Many Meetings
“Just let me know I’ll be out the door.”
The morning was crisp and the air was thick. Not all the stars from last night had gone away, and still the silvery specks glimmered over the stormy grey.
His large exhalation creates wisps of breath. As he watched the breath flow away with the breeze, his muscles slacken from their tension.
Finally, he could escape the uncomfortableness of the world. The moment his skates touched the rink, it was as if time froze around him. Nothing moved, nothing talked, nothing was where it needn’t be. And everything he needed was right here, beneath his feet.
6:03 am. A notification on his phone made him pick up it not long after he had set it down. It was becoming a bad habit; his days now consisted of abnormal amounts of skating and in the time he wasn’t on the rink, he was on his phone.
Whether it was watching tiktoks on tips to improve his jumps or physical exercises to increase his endurance (that seemed to fail by day), the application seemed to have everything. Oh, and of course, his recently founded obsession of Regulus Arcturus Black.
The new figure skating prodigy who had recently won the gold in the Olympics had been a source of great interest to James for a while now. It may had been his good looks, in particular his green, green eyes, or his specific skating style. His outfits he looked so phenomenal in. Each ending pose where he was poised like a tiger preparing to jump on its prey. His search history would reveal it all.
He was all the figure skating industry could talk about these days. “He who made figure skating great again.” “He who brought skating ‘in’ again.”
James agrees with it all; the boy was simply majestic. Yet his decades of heartbreak on ice (and physical break) identified the sense of a burnout in Regulus the moment he saw his first performance. Something about the darkness under his eyes. The dead look on his face as he left the rink. Not that he looked like that on the ice; he was the epitome of the worlds greatest actor with his skates on.
It was only when the cameras turned away, when the coaches were shaking hands with another player, when he thought no one was looking, he would shrink into himself again. But James was looking. He was always looking.
This feeling was more than a crush. It was an emotional connection with someone he’s hardly ever met. But it felt genuine and sweet, and the concern he felt for the 25 year old was real.
To become a worldwide star at 19, to tour the world and to sustain injury after injury and to still be able to stand; if anything, James admired his courage. Of course, any sports player would jump for an opportunity to be the best in the world even before they reached their peak in the career, but to actually be the one to fulfill it was an unimaginable stress.
It wasn’t much of a surprise to see him break. His name, now with a more infamous tone to it, was splashed on every headline.
“Regulus Black- once figure skating prodigy. Now a figure to remember.”
The headline was not to be mistaken for a death announcement, but of his retirement, which was as good as being dead. Retired at the age of 25, when he had at least another decade to compete? To thrive under the spotlight?
It was unimaginable; unthinkable for someone with Regulus’s status in the industry to retire so young. Yet James understands the other man. It required far too much strength to beat the curve. And for what? To beat his own record? Was it wise to risk his reputation just to get the same record again? Prove it wasn’t one lucky run? One lucky spin? Sometimes even James doesn’t know.
His phone reads 7:54 when he leaves the rink. Deciding to take a shower at home instead of the moldy ones at the training center, he was about to grab his jacket off the hook when a pale hand grabs for their own.
As their hands brush against each other, James catches a glimpse of the other person. His eyes a familiar green, his pale face and lithe frame; it couldn’t be…
Regulus Arcturus Black, as he lived and breathed.