Chapter 3
December 3rd, 2017
James Potter, a sensation in the ice community since his unforgettable performance during his Junior debut, has continued to advance in the ranks of figure skating at an unimaginably fast pace. Still unsatisfied, he moved to Detroit a few years ago for the purpose of training under legendary Russian skater Viktor Nikiforov and his Japanese husband Yuuri Katsuki. Both coaches competed against each other, stealing record by record from one another while being engaged at the same time, stealing the public’s affection. They had met on the ice in such a unique way that their story could not be told in a simple paragraph.
When James arrived in Detroit he had to adapt in a variety of aspects. Even though the change was sizable, it could’ve been worse. His English was not bad, since his father, an Englishman, taught it to him a while ago back in Thailand.
James and a Welsh skater Remus Lupin took a liking to each other the instant they met on their first day training under Viktor and Yuuri. Viktor was a strangely charismatic man, always preferring to cling to his husband and wine in dramatic bursts of energy, but Viktor saw both skater’s determination and was inspired to lead the boys to success.
Speaking of inspiration, James was 18 and on the brink of losing his own inspiration just as he had lost hope that he would ever find his soulmate.
He was still a champion, yes, and as arrogant as he knew it was, he was quite sure that he would win his 3rd seniors division Grand Prix Final in a row in Sochi, 2017. After his first Grand Prix at eleven, he became the public’s favourite by winning almost every single gold in the competitions following his Junior debut. The ice was his life, companion and sole purpose. But skating didn’t bring him the joy it once had. Some mornings he dreaded getting out of bed. At night, sleepless, sometimes he thought about the day that would surely come when he would step onto the ice and feel nothing. Nothing but numbness, empty and flat.
And, just as he worried about his inspiration, James worried about his soulmate. They had felt each other a couple times over the years, a soft brush of hands, a banged knee or a twisted ankle, but nothing more than that. He sometimes did feel what he could guess to be falls, but his soulmate simply must be a very clumsy human. Nothing like all the romantic movies James had watched, where two soulmates would think about loving each other and trace letters on their skin for the other miles and miles away.
James had tried that once, when he was seventeen, drunk and painfully lonely. There had been no reply, not even a brush or a pinch.
James had stopped trying, after that night. He didn’t want to hurt like that. Maybe, with his soulmate, it was better to be numb. Every day that passed, the likelihood that they would find each other waned. Most people had found their soulmate by the time they were in their late adolescence, the two souls moving heaven and earth to be together, and as James crept closer to twenties his hope faded as the yawning loneliness in his chest gaped wider every day. He missed the warmth of his mother and father that not even Remus’ sarcasm, Viktor’s hugs or Yuuri’s caring demeanour could bring.
“Prongs, what are you thinking about that’s got you so glum?” Remus said, coming up behind James as he brooded and slinging one arm around his shoulder. His tall, caramel haired friend had granted him the name of “Prongs” after repeatedly pointing out James’ “Deer in the headlights” look that fell into place each morning after the two woke up in their shared apartment. The best friends had been living together not only because it was cheaper, close to the rink and practical, but because of the comfort they provided for each other, rigorous training schedules far from home granted an unsettling way of living after all.
James looked up sharply, a little surprised. “I’m not glum,” he said automatically, flashing Remus a manufactured smile.
Remus snorted. “Sure.” He patted James on the back. “You’re ahead in the short program, and you’re just about set to win your third GPF in a row. What’s the matter?”
James shook his head. “Nothing, I’m fine,” he said, and then plastered a smile on his face once again. “Have the free skates started yet?”
Remus studied him critically for a moment, and then withdrew his arm and nodded. “Yes, Crispino and Leroy have already gone, Gogolev is about to get on the ice. Do you want to watch?”
James shrugged a little listlessly. “Sure.” He followed Remus to a different warmup room, where there was a telly set up so that the other skaters could watch their fellow competitors. Cao Bin and JJ Leroy were already standing in front of the telly, JJ Leroy looking very pleased with himself. Michele Crispino was nowhere to be seen.
“Hey, Potter,” Leroy said with a smirk as James and his friend entered. “You’d better watch out, I might just take your throne this year with JJ Style!” He flashed a “JJ” symbol with his fingers, and James blinked. “Um…” Jean Jaques Leroy strangely reminded him of an old classmate, Gilderoy Lockhart.
“Not again, this fucker…” Remus murmured in Welsh from James’ left, and if anyone knew any bit of Welsh they didn’t react.