Gliding

Xiaoyu and I don't really talk much.

So you can imagine my surprise when she comes over to me as I'm wrapping up my training session, all casual like it's just part of her daily routine.

Part of me gets pissed off that we're finally going to exchange more than a couple words and here I am, out of breath and dripping with sweat. But I don't let it bother me for too long 'cause if I turn on enough charm, she won't even notice.

"Hi, Hwoarang."

My confusion must show on my face because she goes on. "We're friends, right?"

What the hell? We've spoken maybe three times, and that's a huge maybe.

"Sure," I reply.

"Well, do you have plans tonight?" Xiaoyu asks, "I really want to check out the new roller rink, but I don't have anyone to go with."

I'm pretty athletic. Not to brag or anything, but there's a good chance I'll be able to beat your sorry ass at any sport you challenge me to.

Skating around in a circle over and over until you either get tired or bored is not my idea of a sport. Or even a good time.

In fact, it's just plain stupid.

On top of that, Xiaoyu's clumsiness is practically common knowledge. She damn near falls over every time she walks at a regular pace, let alone a fast one. Strapping wheels to the bottom of those feet is an accident waiting to happen.

And I do have plans.

Multiple plans, actually.

See, I told Julia to meet me in the lobby at six o'clock so we can go save the animal shelter or whatever the hell she's always going on about.

Sounds peachy keen, right?

I wouldn't have given it a second thought if she hadn't been wearing that miniskirt. Damn that woman and her revealing clothing, making me agree to lame shit.

Then Christie asked me to be her sparring partner. Either I was the first person she'd run into, or she's so jealous of my killer moves that she wants to see them up close and personal.

I'm gonna go with Option B.

So we agreed to start at eight-thirty, which gives me a gracious window of time to get back from the Powwow and pretend I'd been in the hotel gym all along.

A little while later, Asuka felt the need to rant to me about a certain teacher of hers that was about to get a piece of her mind. I zoned out after a couple minutes, but apparently he hasn't been grading her papers fairly, or so she thinks.

I told her I'd help her study from ten until whenever she felt confident enough to ace her next test and cram it down the bastard's throat.

'Cause everyone knows what happens during study dates, and it sure isn't studying.

So Xiaoyu's offer is out of the question. It seriously has everything going against it. There's no way I'm going.

No way.

"Sounds like fun."

Wait, what?

Damnit!

: : : : :

I would have, could have, should have stood her up.

She wasn't even wearing a miniskirt!

Ask me why I didn't, and I won't have an answer for you. I'll just shake my head pathetically and bury my head in my hands.

Sorta like what I'm doing now, after watching Xiaoyu take two steps on her skates and fall face-first onto the carpet.

She tries to stand up, but to no avail. Gravity is definitely this girl's arch nemesis.

Oh, for the love of—people are starting to stare.

I only have to use one hand to pull her onto her feet. She sways precariously at first, clutching a fistful of my shirt to maintain balance, but eventually remains still.

I can't believe I'm letting this nightmare cut into my evil, yet clever, watch-Julia-jump-up-and-down-enthusiastically-for-an-unspecified-amount-of-time plan.

When she finally lets go of my shirt, I skate to where the carpeting meets the wood of the rink. Noticing she isn't with me, I throw a glance over my shoulder and see that, much to my chagrin, she hasn't moved.

Wanting nothing more than to get this over with, I say encouragingly, "Come on in, the water's fine."

Her bottom lip trembles, and for a moment I think she's going to cry.

And you can bet the minute I see tears, I am so out of here.

Her mouth settles into an innocent smile instead. "A little help?"

I skate to her side and have to stifle an annoyed groan as she grasps my hand. She starts to lace her fingers with mine, then pauses. I can feel her eyes move toward my face. She drops my hand in favor of my shoulder.

So she decided to save me some humiliation after all, huh? Can't let my guard down yet, though.

By the time we step onto the polished wood, I swear my arm is gonna need to be amputated due to poor circulation. She's holding onto me as if I'm a rope above a pit full of starving alligators—and adding excess weight to one half of my body.

"You're pulling me down," I snap, "Want me to fall?"

"Oh, sorry!" she gasps.

She releases my shoulder from the death grip, and I'm incredibly relieved until I see her teeter haphazardly.

You've gotta be freaking kidding me! I knew she was clumsy, but I never thought it'd be this bad.

"Just—grab my hand," I suggest through gritted teeth.

She complies. The connection provides her with enough stability, and she stops swaying.

I consider asking why the hell she asked me to come here with her if she can't even skate, but opt to grumble under my breath.

She either doesn't notice or ignores it.

: : : : :

"You want anything? Some popcorn, maybe?"

Am I desperate to get out of here or what?

"That'd be great, thanks."

I eye her skeptically. "Sure you'll be alright without me?"

"Yeah," she replies, leaning against the wall, "I'll be fine."

With a smile, she teases, "Somebody's concerned."

Concerned? Don't make me laugh.

"Am not," I insist, "I just don't want to come back to an eight-human pile-up."

I leave the rink and walk over to the concession stand near the entrance. I note the obnoxious neon clock on the wall near the soda machine and sigh.

Nine o'clock. I'm so late.

"What can I get for you?" the clerk asks.

"Just a large popcorn."

Thought about getting two mediums, but why do that when we can share one? Saves me the extra cash.

"Plain, buttered, or salted?" the cashier responds in a tone that tells me he's had to say that a few times before.

Damn.

I should've asked her about that before I came over here. Now, you watch, I'll get the wrong thing, and she'll guilt me into buying an entirely new bag just for her.

It's a very simple question, yet when I open my mouth to answer, no sound comes out. Something that should be answered right away is left hanging in the air—you know, kind of like the musty smell old people carry with them wherever they go.

Not such a big deal, I guess. My brain must have missed the memo.

I mean, sure, if you were a complete nerd like Julia, you could psychoanalyze my hesitance and find some kind of deep, hidden theory.

Like that the three options actually represent the three girls I'm blowing off right now, for instance.

If you were going to entertain such a theory, which I'm not saying is right or anything, then Julia would definitely be plain popcorn. The least appetizing of the three, lacking any sort of flavor. Caring and nurturing, the healthy choice—the safe choice.

That would make Asuka the salted kind. She's got an attitude, that one. There's a thrill in the chase, the battle of wills, but get too much of her and you're likely to end up in the hospital.

And that leaves the butter for Christie. Smooth, enticing. People simply gravitate towards her.

All three are great, in their own ways. But, I don't know, they're just—missing something.

What the others have.

The sensible part of my brain, which has apparently woken up from the nap it was taking when I decided to come to this place, tells me that I should just get whatever I want, and if she doesn't like it that's just too damn bad.

Yeah, there we go.

It's not like this is a date, anyway.

"Buttered with salt. And don't be stingy with the butter, pal."

He retreats to the popcorn machine. As I wait for my order, I survey the rink out of the corner of my eye.

She's gone!

I turn and openly stare at the now unoccupied spot she was standing in just a few minutes ago.

Where the hell did she go that fast? The bathroom?

But she can't skate without my help! She probably toppled over somewhere, and the kids are using her as a ramp.

Great. Just great. And the embarrassment continues.

A streak of pink whizzes past the opening of the rink. I'm ready to dismiss it as a trick of the roving disco lights, but something tells me to take a closer look.

It's Xiaoyu!

And she's—skating?

Not just that. She's moving with precision, grace, a level of skill you wouldn't find in anyone without years of practice. Gliding.

Her flowing top moves in tune with her rhythm, creating soft shapes. Her skin glows with the luminance of a dozen vibrant lights, her eyes shining brighter than any of them.

She looks so—happy.

It takes a little while for what's happening to register in my mind. For a few minutes, I merely stand there, dumbfounded.

Then I smirk.

I really need to give this girl more credit.

A/N: This is how my brain interpreted the rollerblades in Xiaoyu's Tekken 5 customization.