"Life is a race, but a race unlike any other. To win it, one must not be in a hurry to finish"

The First to Last

Moscow, 14:22

He had only been late for a few minutes, and already the man sitting opposite of him had a tight lipped expression on his pale face. Ivan Braginski slowly unravelled his long woollen scarf, folding it neatly against his leather briefcase while sharp golden eyes followed his every move.

"How have you been, Yao?" Ivan asked mildly, smiling across the table with his large hands settling atop its smooth wooden surface.

Yao Wang nodded lightly, explaining he had been doing well and asked how Ivan was, in turn. The Russian replied jovially. A waitress arrived beside their table, a small clipboard in her arms. She pushed her hair behind her ears and with a sweet face asked for their orders. The two asked for more time, and settled with some plain water for the time being. The waitress nodded and said she would be back shortly with their drinks.

Ivan stretched his legs forward, feeling his left foot falling asleep. By accident, he felt a bump against his toe and uttered an apology.

"Hmmm? What was that?" Yao asked, too absorbed in the menu before him.

"I'm sorry, I kicked your foot," Ivan said.

Yao frowned, insisting he had felt no such thing, and the two lapsed into a silence. Ivan stared intently at the lunch options before deciding on a simple meat pasta and Boston chowder. He looked up in time to see Yao look away. He knew better than to ask.

"What are you getting, Yao?" Ivan asked. "I'm ordering some pasta and soup."

"Oh, well I thought that the Buffalo blue-cheese burger sounded good, so..."

"Ah, really?" Ivan felt his toes curl inside his leather oxfords. "Did Alfred introduce you to it?"

"Yes." Yao said. His tone was curt.

Ivan closed his menu. The waitress had returned, a tray with two glasses in her hand. She set the water in front of them both before asking if they were ready to order. After jotting the placements down she collected their menus and left.

Ivan ran a hand through his coarse blond hair. He caught Yao staring at the shiny silver Seiko on his wrist. "Is something the matter?" he asked. "I'm not holding you up, am I?"

"No, of course not. I've scheduled my whole day around this, you know. I'm not as rude as you want to believe." Yao replied.

"I never said you were," Ivan protested. He piped down and stared out the window, at the city below. Cars moved like little toys along the grey strips of road, and people were dots of different coloured ants that hustled about in a disorderly fashion. From the reflection of the glass, Ivan could see golden eyes watching him. He didn't mind one bit.

"Sorry, aru." came a sad little voice. "I've been just horrible lately haven't I."

Yao turned his stare out at the cloudy sky. His eyes were somewhere far away, somewhere Ivan could never hope to reach. The taller man shook his head and assured the other that it was just the stress of work. They broke into an animate chat about their jobs and life at the office. It felt just like old times, Ivan thought, as Yao's hands made dramatic sweeping motions in the air. He was saying something about having a schizophrenic co-worker. Ivan nodded, listening with full interest and talked about his younger sister, and how she seemed to be withdrawing from him. Yao nodded empathetically, having been through that stage with many of his siblings. For once in his life, Ivan felt as if he'd come to a mutual understanding with the Chinese man-as if for once, he had reached the same level of maturity.

Their food arrived in steaming dishes. Ivan's light mood was broken as he caught sight of the burger on Yao's plate. It wasn't the greasy aroma or the fries that got to his nerves-it was the fact that someone else had gotten Yao to try something new in such a short amount of time, while it took all of Ivan's years knowing Yao to get him to taste a simple spoonful of borsch. Something unpleasant stirred in the Russian's stomach as he gripped his metal fork tightly.

"That looks really good," Yao stated, staring at his pasta and having no idea of the turmoil within Ivan's head. "We should have a taste of each other's food."

Ivan only nodded, smiling, while taking a long drink from his glass. The icy water cooled his face.

Yao dug into the burger, a genuine smile spread over his thin lips. Ivan nearly choked on his chowder, feeling a burning guilt in the back of his mind. It was horrible that he was upset at Yao's happiness. He couldn't even enjoy the hearty bits of clam going down his throat, focusing on bringing each spoonful steadily to his mouth. He panicked when the soup was finished, in dire need of another distraction. He speared his fork into the cheesy pasta.

"Want some of this?" Yao asked, gesturing to his half finished burger. Ivan flushed as he took another drink of water. Politely he declined, saying how his pasta was more than enough. Once again, he was back to chewing laboriously at his meal.

A noisy buzz sounded through the air. Yao retrieved his cellular from his pocket, frowning at the red blinking on the screen. "Excuse me," he said, before turning sideways.

A voice just as loud and obnoxious as the buzz itself shouted through the speaker. "Hey Yao! How's it going dude!"

"Alfred, can we talk later? I'm at lunch right now with my friend, remember?"

Ivan bit the side of his cheek and clenched his teethe tightly together.

"Ah, brah, this is pretty important though. I need you to come back ASAP. There's a problem with the-"

"I can't now, Alfred. You know that." Yao clipped. His voice was nowhere near as aggravated as how Ivan felt.

"Well, you know, come back by tonight or something. I really need you."

I really need you.

"Sure, I need to go." Yao frowned. "See you later Al."

"Later dude."

The call ended and Yao placed the phone back into his pocket. He cast Ivan an apologetic glance. "Sorry. He's annoying at times."

"I see." Ivan smiled. "It's okay."

He had been replaced by something like that-something as childish and shameless as that-and everything was far from okay. But he grinned and bared it simply because he was mature now. He wanted Yao to notice that.

They finished off the remainder of their lunch. After a heated argument over the bill, courtesy of Yao, the two men decided on going Dutch.

"There's a nice place on the other end of town. The setting there is more formal but the food is great." Ivan said as he wound his scarf around his neck. Yao raised a brow at him.

"We just ate."

"I meant for dinner."

Yao buttoned up his trench coat. He appeared deep in thought. "I really want to stay for dinner,"

"But you can't. Business and an emergency with Alfred?" Ivan was surprised at how calm his voice came out. He was both proud and hurt.

"I'm sorry." Yao said.

The autumn cast its frosty gale over the sleepy city, thin sheets of ice forming on the curbs. The trees were stripped bare of their leaves, which lay in crispy brown piles all over the sidewalk. The two men made their way slowly across the small stone bridge of the highway.

"Nothing's changed much has it?" Yao asked. He was staring at the wide buildings across the river.

"No. Same old, same old." Ivan replied. He stopped beside his friend and joined him. "The city doesn't change much."

"Apparently not." Yao agreed. "Say then, is that ice rink still where it used to be?"

Ivan raised his brows. "Well, yes, the last time I checked it hasn't moved."

"Why don't we pay it a visit? I miss it."

I miss it.

For old times sake, Ivan thought, and he smiled. "Alright. Sounds like a plan."

Moscow, 15:31

The skating arena stood in its place just as it always had. The familiar purple and blue billboard was still proud and large, hung over the large dome of the rink. Ivan felt a thrill run down his spine. He had not skated in a while.

"I've improved, you know." Yao said, as they entered the complex. "I've been practising."

"Have you now?" Ivan asked.

"Yes, so don't be surprised when I beat you in a speed-skating race." Yao replied. The two exchanged lopsided grins.

"I hate to burst your bubble Yao, but there's no way the Winter Prince will allow a petty little chink to beat him in his hometown." Ivan said in a mock-angry voice.

"Well, this chink has been training, while the Prince has put on a couple of pounds."

Ivan's smile faltered. He hadn't thought he looked fatter, though it was true he hadn't had as much time to exercise. The damned Manager of his company had been forcing extra shifts on him non-stop lately.

"I was joking, Ivan." Yao said, his fingers brushing the Russian's shoulder. "You look great."

Ivan flushed. They rented their equipments and sat down on the wooden benches to lace up their skates. Ivan couldn't help but notice how Yao's fingers moved with an unexpected litheness while tightening his skates, as if he had been doing it all his life. He was suddenly dying to find out just how much better his friend had gotten.

In moments of stepping onto the ice, Yao glided easily over the surface, his short black hair whipping back in the momentum. Ivan followed close behind, moving just as gracefully as his body remembered to. Something in his heart tugged as he stared at the figure in front of him, and he cared to keep a distance between them. He was afraid, afraid that if he sped up, Yao would too. He was afraid he wouldn't be able to catch up.

Ivan jerked to a stop, managing to keep an air of grace as his body stilled. Yao's body spun in a tight circle, motion perfectly carried out. His golden eyes landed on Ivan, before he sped off to the side. Taking the initiative, the Russian burst after him. It became a chase, and it reminded Ivan of how things were a couple years ago. Except this time, there was an uncertain frenzy to the chase. This time, Ivan was scared he would lose.

Like a car, they accelerated from tame to wild speeds. Adrenaline rushed through Ivan's veins as he struggled to keep the motion of his mind and legs together. The blood was pounding in his ears, throbbing in his temples and his cheeks and nose were numb with cold. Then, as suddenly as the chase started, it stopped.

Yao's arms flew out in a straight line, his feet surging forward and his body gliding in a diagonal line across the ice. In slow motion, Ivan watched as the man seemed to draw closer and closer to the ground, body stiff all the while. He couldn't stop Yao's fall, couldn't reach him in time to cushion it-all he could do was stare in horror.

Finally, Yao connected with the ground, sliding a few paces before coming to a stop dangerously close to the plastic walls. He lay there in an unmoving heap. In seconds, Ivan was knelt by his side, frozen hands hovering above his friend. He called Yao a few times, before receiving a small groan as a response. Then, a small whisper reached his ears, but he didn't catch it, so he asked Yao to repeat.

"I lost," Yao's voice was faint, but filled with humour. "You're still the Prince."

"Can you see?" Ivan asked tentatively. "Open your eyes for me, Yao."

And he did, revealing the most brilliant, focused orbs of gold. Ivan let a sigh of relief, having expected the worst-unfocused gazes, a concussion-but it seemed as though his friend was alright.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"Just a bit sore on my bum."

"Here. Try to stand." Ivan offered his hand, assisting the unsteady man up. Yao's knees wobbled for a split second, before he straightened his back and let out a long sigh.

"I'm too old for this, aru."

"No. You did great." Ivan led the Chinese to the side, helping him out of the rink. They sat on the bench and slumped back in exhaustion.

"If only I hadn't slipped." Yao grumbled.

"But you're not hurt, so it's all good. Safety comes first." Ivan reminded him. But his words didn't seem to quell Yao's stubborn thoughts.

"No. It's just, I've been training for forever and ever. Just to be fast. I do everything as quickly and efficiently as possible. Why is it that I can't be the same on ice?"

Ivan frowned. "Does it matter? It's just skating."

"Then how come you are so good at it?"

"Yao, I've been skating since I was three." Ivan rationalized. "Of course I'm going to be a bit more experienced because I got a head start in it."

There was a silence. The temperature seemed to drop and Ivan shivered.

"Alfred's always really fast at learning new things. Why can't I be the same?"

Something in the Russian snapped as he turned on his friend.

"I don't understand what your obsession with that idiot American is," Ivan began. "He is a man of speed, but what good is speed? What good is anything if you simply rush past it without enjoying it at all?"

When Yao said nothing, he continued.

"You've changed. The city has not, but you have. You've become a fool, Yao. A true fool, to think that being the best means being the first to arrive at the finish line. That pig of a friend, that Alfred-I hear about him, I hear how he can play basketball like a professional. How he can beat his own brother in a competitive hockey game-and how he has lots of friends and how strong he is and how he's always the first to start and first to finish anything. But Jao," he paused, feeling how the pet name sat thickly on his tongue. He hadn't used it in a while. "Jao, he's really fast. And you're not. So what? So what then?" Ivan stared at the ground. "You can't change who you are. And you don't have to. You probably don't want to listen to an ex-lover's rant, but there something I need to tell you, that you should know. I may not be smarter or better looking than that bastard. I may be slow at learning things or changing habits because it's in my nature to take things step by step. But there's a secret that I have, that no one, not even Alfred, knows."

Yao's face was unreadable, as he stared at Ivan. Their eyes didn't waver, and their minds were so completely isolated that there was nobody in the skating rink other than them.

"Do you want to know my secret?"

Yao shook his head yes.

"I know how to win in life. And I can tell you, Yao." Ivan watched as the other's face scrunched in thought. "Life is a race, but a race unlike any other. To win it, one must not be in a hurry to finish. To win in life, to be the fastest would mean to lose; to be speedy, suicidal. To be the first to last, and to last the longest, is the purpose of life."

Yao's intense stare did not flicker as he continued to look at the Russian. Then, as if through some climatic epiphany, Yao broke out into the brightest smile Ivan had ever seen.

"You've changed too, Yiwan. You've grown up, into a wiser fool than I have become."

Ivan's arms wrapped themselves around the smaller man, pressing his nose into the nape of Yao's neck. He inhaled deeply, slowly, and a rush of familiar jasmine and cedar wood hit him. He missed it, he really did. Hands rubbed the Russian's broad back, returning the embrace. The cold was no longer had an effect on them.

A loud buzz sounded.

Pulling away, Yao drew his phone from out of his pocket. Ivan sat back reluctantly, a pang racking his chest. He watched as Yao lifted the phone up. It had to be Alfred.

What the Asian man did next surprised him. Yao pressed the reject button with his thumb, before slipping the device back into his pants. He looked up and smiled at Ivan.

"Don't you need to answer that?" Ivan asked. "Your boss might need you-"

"That can wait." Yao interrupted. "I'm in no hurry. Now, where were we?"

Ivan smiled, and was pulled into a bone-crushing hug.

Author's note:

SO...this is a lot cheesier than I intended for it to be. It didn't come out too horribly I hope! I wrote this for a friend, Qingmu, on deivantart. She is an amazing artist, and I think you all should check out her artworks! I'd give you the link but Fanfic's an ass and eats all the links that I provide. Anyways, I do believe she has an account on here as well, with the same name 'Qingmu.'

I hope you guys enjoyed this. By the way, I had no editing, so if you guys spot an error feel free to comment on it. Also, please give feedback on how you thought this story was! It seems I much prefer oneshots over long ass stories...

Well, I'm out, and please don't forget to REVIEW! Thanks!

-Sunny