i've been updating all my accounts so that eveything is consistent, so take another fic

It's not the first time Callum has gone ice skating.

He's not unfamiliar with signing in at the desk, digging through his wallet as fast as he can so he doesn't hold up the line, and walking through the automatic door to the rink. There's a blast of cool air as soon as he enters, and he shoves his hands into his pockets and pulls his jacket closer to him.

When he approaches the counter to get skates, he has to repeat his skate size multiple times before the worker hears him. As they walk away to find his size, Callum tries to calm his racing heart, rubbing his hands together. He hasn't had a chance to put gloves on yet; it's hard to lace up the skates with them on, so he leaves them in his pockets.

His rentals are handed to him, and he mumbles a quick thank you the worker probably didn't hear and scrambles off.

There's a surprising amount of benches available, but it is a Tuesday, so he's shocked he's surprised. He sits towards the edge of one, setting his skates next to him and untying his shoes. Once he gets them off, he slides them under the bench and slips his feet into the skates.

He can feel them press into his ankles, a choked grip around where his foot meets his leg. Rental skates try to give the same support as actual skates, but they fail every time. His friend let him try her skates before, and they were a lot better in terms of quality.

Speaking of his friend...

She's on the rink already, and he takes a quick glance up to see her.

She's been doing lessons for years now; he's not exactly sure how many, and he thinks she doesn't know either. He can tell she's been training for a while. She glides with ease, muscle memory and practice making her movements graceful, like an ice version of a ballerina. She's not doing anything extravagant now, nothing even close to what he's seen her do, but she makes something as simple as circling the rink look easy.

It's a few seconds before he realizes he's staring, and even though there's no reason to be embarrassed, he still looks away, feeling bashful and shy.

He yanks the laces as tight as he can, the fabric stiff, and he crosses them over until he reaches the top. Looping them off with bunny ears, he stands on the blades.

His friend had dragged him to the rink a few times, so he's no stranger to skates, but he's still nowhere near as good as the others who show up. He's seen little kids no older than Ezran whip circles around him. How they do it, he has no idea. He's come to the rink before and still can't balance.

Though maybe that's just his balance being shit.

He stumbles over to the wall and holds on, attempting to find his nonexistent stability. There's a panel of glass between him and the rink, and he does his best to avoid instinctively putting his hand on it when he nearly topples over.

Through the glass, he makes eye contact with his friend and sees her smirk. Oh no.

White hair flowing out behind her, she runs on the ice over to him, skidding to a stop and putting her hands on the glass, acting like she crashed against it. But she bounces back quickly, wide smile and eyes crinkled, and she mouths something he misses.

He'll blame it on her clothes. The black is a stark contrast to the white of the rink and her hair, and she looks good in the darker color, too. It's not his fault he wasn't paying attention.

Callum stumbles across the floor, trying to lift his knees high and "march" like he was instructed to by her. She's tried to teach him the proper way to skate, but he can never apply it. In the end, he gives up and starts walking normally, which works a lot better. Avoiding eye contact with the moms standing by the glass, he makes his way to the gate, where his friend is already waiting for him.

She's leaning against the opening, arms folded and one leg crossed over the other. "Look who decided to show up."

Callum finds himself smiling, despite the struggle and slight frustration that comes with it. "You say that like you don't want me here."

She shrugs, eyes closed. "Maybe I don't."

"Then why would you invite me?"

She opens her eyes, violet color somehow matching the aesthetic of the rink. "Maybe I did." She smirks, tilting her head and pushing off from the wall. "Come on, dummy."

"Not all of us are ice skating pros, Rayla," Callum points out, grasping the wall as he tentatively places a foot on the ice. His leg doesn't immediately slide out from under him, so he takes that as a plus.

She twirls in place, sliding over in front of him. She lifts her arms out. "What did I teach you about balancing?"

"Arms out," he says, stepping fully onto the ice. "Can I get onto the ice first?"

"You are on the ice. Now, arms out."

He complies, awkwardly at best, not quite putting his arms up as much as he should. "This looks stupid."

Rayla doesn't reply, and Callum narrows his eyebrows. "You want me to look stupid."

Shrugging, Rayla turns away. "Please, you'd look stupid anyways. And it actually does help with balance."

"Then why don't you do it?"

"Can't be bothered."

Rayla skates off as he tries to get used to the ice. It usually takes a few minutes, but after a while, he gets to the point where he can skate on his own and even slowly spin in place.

While he warms up, he watches Rayla. She flips directions and starts skating backwards, arms out and legs crossing over each other. If Callum, or anyone else for that matter, tried to do the same position, they wouldn't look half as elegant as her. She skates like she's been doing it all her life, like it's second nature, as natural as breathing.

She lifts up one of her legs, holding it behind her as she turns slightly to the side. She digs the toepick into the ice, and in a movement too fast and too smooth for him to comprehend, she launches herself into the air and into a spin. A double, he thinks. He's not entirely sure what type of jump she did, but he guesses a toe-loop, since she used her toe to push off. She's taught him a little about certain moves, and sometimes he can recognize them.

She lands with her leg somewhat lifted, arms big and steady. Transferring her weight onto her other foot, she uses her momentum to whip into a spin, choosing to show off a little and arch backwards, changing her spin into what Callum presumes is a layback. Eventually, she comes out of it, twirling away for a couple seconds before catching his eye and winking.

Suddenly, he almost falls over.

He sees Rayla's eyes widen out of the corner of his eye, but then her face breaks out into a grin, and she bends over and tries not to laugh. While the sudden loss in what little grace he had annoys Callum, he can't help but laugh it off.

Rayla skates over, a little shakier due to her giggling. "What, was the power of my skating too much for you?"

"No," Callum says, clutching onto the wall for dear life. Rayla slides up beside him, holding out her hand. How she manages to not freeze with a lack of gloves, he will never know.

"C'mon. I'll hold onto you."

Callum stares at her hand for a few seconds. "If I fall, I'm dragging you down with me."

Rayla shrugs. "I'll blame you then."

He doesn't want to bring her down, even if he knows she's only offering to be nice. He'd feel bad for making her fall after her perfect run. He's seen her fall a couple times, but he'd feel awful if she got hurt because of him.

"I'm okay," Callum replies, deciding to be a little brave and shift away from the wall. Rayla raises an eyebrow.

"Too bad. Take my hand already."

Well, if she's offering...

Callum's hand is rough in hers, his glove rubbing against her skin. She has no need for gloves anymore, growing used to the cold after hours of practice at the rink.

She can see Callum stumble; usually he's a bit better than he is today. That or he gives up after a few minutes. Sometimes, he'll quietly ask to take a video of her, and she'll see him sitting on one of the benches, pencil to his sketchbook. In truth, she's honored he takes the time to draw her, and his sketches always turn out amazing.

However, today is a skating day, she supposes.

She begins dragging him away from the wall, taking his other hand in hers when he automatically reaches out. She can see him wobble, his lack of the same core strength she has failing him. She's tempted to tell him to tighten his core, but she doubts he knows what that means, much less how to execute it.

"You good?"

"Yeah," Callum responds, gaining enough confidence to let go of one of her hands and turn to the side. Her motto for skating has always been 'confidence, not cockiness,' courtesy of her dad, Runaan. There's a difference between believing in yourself and believing you can do more than you can. She hopes Callum can draw the line, otherwise, they'll both fall.

She starts skating forwards. It's difficult to stay at a slow speed; she's much more used to going faster. Callum trails behind her, still grasping her hand, letting her drag him along. "You're doing good so far!"

Callum glances up from the ground for a second, offering her a smile. "You got me away from the wall, so that's a plus."

"Yeah, and in record time too." She looks up at the clock. "Only two minutes in and look at you!"

"I know, I'm such a pro now." Callum cocks his head, giving her a wink this time.

And then he falls over.

Out the corner of her eye, she sees his skate catch on the other one, and he begins to collapse. She tries to save him, but it's too late; and she feels him pull down on her hand. They both wind up on the ice, skidding to a stop, her sat up and Callum sprawled out.

Rayla is the first to start laughing, feeling the giggle in the back of her throat bubble out. She covers her mouth with one hand, now covered in water and small pieces of ice. "Go- pfft— good job, Callum. So— ha— so pro."

He groans, sitting up fully. He slaps her shoulder lightly. "Shut up."

She might be laughing too loud to be socially acceptable, but honestly, she doesn't care.

And it must be contagious, because she sees Callum try to hold back a smile and fail miserably. He laughs a bit quieter than her, but just as passionately, and for a moment, the rest of the rink melts away. It's just her and Callum, his gloved hands and her ice covered ones, her professional skates and his rentals, her laughter and his.

It's nice, she thinks. It's like the rink is theirs.

She pushes herself to her feet, and Callum remains sat on the ice. Feeling nice for once, she offers her hand to him again, and he takes it. But with a smirk, he pulls her back down again and close to him into a makeshift hug.

She knows enough about falling to not get hurt, and Callum acts as a buffer anyways, but a spike of frustration shoots through her. "Callum, you little sh—"

"Pfft—haha-" Callum laughs, his face red and his eyes crinkled. "You... pfft- actually fell—"

"Yeah I did, thanks for noticing!" she yells, but in all honesty, she's not mad. Part of her finds it funny, the other part is too prideful to show it.

When she stands up this time, she doesn't dare give him her hand. Callum pouts. "What, not gonna help me up?"

"After you dragged me down? Not a chance. I haven't fallen in ages, and now I've fallen twice."

"Fallen for me twice?" Callum asks, wiggling his eyebrows. Rayla whacks his arm with the side of her skate.

After that, Callum must get a sudden stroke of inspiration, because five minutes later, she sees him on a bench, sketching away. Rayla continues to dance on the ice, and sometimes she'll catch his eye, either glaring or smirking. Callum always smiles back.

She came here to practice, but Callum keeps distracting her with his occasional glances and the question of what's in his sketchbook.

(Later, she finds out the drawing was of them laughing when she fell into his arms, bright smiles on both of their faces.)