blade angels fanfictions

"I swear if I hear the phrase 'maximize GOE potential' one more time, I'm retiring immediately," she groaned.

You laughed softly while brushing your fingers through her hair.

"You love skating too much to retire."

Amber looked up at you.

And suddenly her expression changed.

Softer now.

More thoughtful.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Always."

She hesitated briefly.

Then quietly-

"Do you think we'd ever want kids?"

Your heart skipped instantly.

Not because the idea scared you.

But because somehow hearing Amber say it out loud made the future feel real.

The apartment suddenly felt quieter.

Warmer.

You looked down at her carefully.

"Do you?"

Amber smiled shyly.

"Maybe."

Then after a tiny pause-

"Actually... yeah. I think I do."

You could hear the nervousness hidden underneath her voice.

Because despite all her confidence on the ice, Amber still approached emotional things carefully sometimes.

Like she was afraid to want too much.

You smiled softly.

"I think you'd be an incredible mom."

Amber immediately looked emotional.

"You mean that?"

"Completely."

Because honestly?

You could already picture it.

Amber teaching a little kid how to skate while laughing every time they fell dramatically.

Bedtime stories told with ridiculous voices.

Tiny little jackets hanging beside her competition gear.

It fit her somehow.

Even with all the chaos and ambition and Olympic pressure surrounding her career.

The conversation didn't become serious immediately.

At first it stayed soft.

Hypothetical.

Little comments here and there over the next few weeks.

"What if our kid hates skating?"

"They'd still have your music taste thankfully."

"What if they inherit my inability to sit still?"

"That's absolutely happening."

But one month before the Olympics-

The conversation changed.

Because one night after dinner, Amber quietly admitted:

"I don't want to keep waiting for life to start after skating."

You looked at her carefully.

Amber sat cross-legged on the kitchen counter still wearing training clothes, looking more vulnerable than she ever did in interviews or competitions.

"People in sports always talk like you have to put your whole life on hold," she explained quietly. "Like happiness has to wait until after the next season or next Olympics or next title."

You stayed silent, listening.

"But loving you already feels like my real life," Amber admitted softly. "Not something temporary before it begins."

That sentence nearly broke your heart.

In the best way.

And after a lot of conversations-

Real conversations about timing and schedules and parenthood and fear and excitement-

The two of you decided together that yes.

You wanted this.

So appointments got made.

Quietly.

Privately.

Only a tiny circle knew.

And even during Olympic preparation, Amber somehow became more affectionate afterward.

More careful.

Like the possibility of building a family with you made everything in her life feel sharper somehow.

More important.

Then came the Olympics.

The atmosphere in Italy was chaos from the second Team USA arrived.

Practices.

Media.

Recovery sessions.

Meetings.

Security everywhere.

Amber barely had a free second.

Still, she texted you constantly.

Especially before bed.

Amber:

miss u :(

You:

you literally facetimed me 20 minutes ago

Amber:

and yet i still miss u

On the second day of the Olympics, you took the test mostly to calm your own nerves.

You genuinely weren't expecting it yet.

The clinic told you it could take time.

So when the second line appeared-

You stopped breathing.

"Oh my god."

Your hands started shaking instantly.

Then tears hit almost immediately afterward.

Happy tears.

Overwhelmed tears.

Because suddenly it wasn't hypothetical anymore.

You were pregnant.

Amber was going to be a mom.

And somehow the first thought in your head wasn't logical at all.

It was:

I need to tell her in person.

Which was how less than twenty-four hours later, you somehow found yourself flying to Italy with a pregnancy test hidden carefully in your bag.

Amber's manager nearly lost his mind when you contacted him.

"You want to WHAT?"

"Please," you begged. "I have to surprise her."

To his credit-

The man eventually folded almost immediately because apparently nobody on earth could resist emotional Olympic reunions.

Especially involving Amber Glenn.

So somehow, through an impressive amount of security clearances and sneaking around athlete areas-

You made it inside.

Backstage near the arena felt surreal.

Athletes rushing around.

Coaches talking rapidly.

Camera crews everywhere.

And standing nearby in warmups were , , , and .

The second they saw you-

Chaos.

"Oh my god YOU'RE HERE?" Alysa whisper-screamed.

Amber's manager quickly shushed everyone.

"No one ruin this."

Then Isabeau noticed the pregnancy test box barely hidden in your bag.

Her eyes widened immediately.

"Oh my god."

Jason gasped so loudly someone nearby turned around.

"No WAY."

Ilia looked fully stunned.

"Wait-is Amber gonna be a MOM?"

You were laughing nervously now while trying not to cry again.

"Please don't scream before she gets here."

Alysa looked seconds away from exploding emotionally.

"This is the best day of my LIFE."

Then finally-

The arena doors opened backstage.

And Amber stepped off the ice still flushed from performing, laughing about something with another skater before glancing up casually-

Then completely freezing.

The second she saw you, confusion hit first.

Then excitement.

"Baby?!"

She started walking toward you immediately.

"What are you doing here?"

Everyone nearby looked dangerously emotional already.

You couldn't even speak properly because tears were building again.

So instead-

You held up the pregnancy test.

Amber stopped walking.

Completely.

The entire world seemed to pause around her.

"What..."

Her voice cracked instantly.

You started crying first.

A tiny nod.

Amber stared at the test.

Then at you.

Then back at the test again.

And suddenly her hands flew over her mouth.

"No," she whispered shakily.

Alysa burst into tears immediately.

Jason looked seconds away from fainting emotionally.

Isabeau was fully crying already.

And Ilia yelled:

"I'M GONNA BE AN UNCLE."

"NOT BY BLOOD," Amber's manager hissed.

"STILL COUNTS."

Amber barely heard any of them.

Because suddenly she was crying too.

Actually crying.

Right there backstage at the Olympics.

"You're serious?" she whispered.

You nodded tearfully.

Amber laughed and sobbed at the same time before pulling you into her arms so quickly you almost lost balance.

"Oh my god," she kept repeating. "Oh my god."

She kissed your forehead repeatedly while holding you impossibly carefully.

Like both you and the future suddenly felt precious beyond words.

Behind her, Alysa was openly sobbing into Jason's shoulder.

"I'm gonna buy the baby tiny skates."

"Absolutely not," Amber laughed through tears immediately.

Too late.

The entire Stars on Ice friend group had already emotionally adopted the child.

And standing there backstage in the middle of Olympic chaos, wrapped safely in Amber's arms while she cried happy tears against your shoulder-

You realized something quietly beautiful.

So Amber learned early that love had expiration dates.

No matter how badly she wanted otherwise.

Which was why meeting you ruined everything.

Because somehow you slipped past every wall she built carefully around herself over the years.

You made her laugh too easily.

Made her linger too long.

Made immortality feel less lonely.

And worst of all—

You trusted her completely.

That part nearly destroyed her.

The relationship started small.

Coffee dates.

Late-night walks.

Movie marathons in your apartment because you joked Amber “mysteriously hated daytime plans.”

If only you knew.

Sometimes Amber would watch you sleep beside her and feel physically sick with guilt.

Because vampires weren’t supposed to have lives like this.

Not soft ones.

Not human ones.

Certainly not love stories.

Yet every time she tried pulling away, you’d smile at her and suddenly centuries of self-control collapsed instantly.

“You’re staring again,” you mumbled sleepily one night without opening your eyes.

Amber froze.

“…Sorry.”

You smiled faintly into the pillow.

“I like when you look at me like that.”

God.

You made everything harder.

Because the longer Amber stayed, the more dangerous things became.

You started noticing little details eventually.

The freezing temperature of her hands.

How she never ate much around you.

How her eyes sometimes looked strangely red when she was stressed.

And one night—

You almost caught her.

Amber had cut her hand accidentally while washing dishes.

The scent of blood hit instantly.

Violently.

For one horrifying second, her control snapped.

Her fangs emerged before she could stop them.

You turned around just as Amber jerked backward into the shadows of the kitchen.

“Amber?”

Panic flooded through her immediately.

“I’m fine.”

Your brows furrowed.

“You’re bleeding.”

“I said I’m fine.”

The sharpness in her voice startled both of you.

You stepped back slightly.

And the guilt afterward nearly killed her.

That night Amber sat alone in her apartment staring at herself in the dark for hours.

Because she realized something terrifying:

Eventually you were going to find out.

And when you did—

You’d look at her differently.

Not with love.

Not with trust.

With fear.

Every vampire Amber had ever known warned her about humans.

They love you until they see what you really are.

Then they run.

Or worse.

So before you could discover the truth—

Amber decided to leave first.

Cowardly.

Cruel.

But safer than watching you recoil from her.

The breakup happened three days later.

Rain hammered softly against your apartment windows while Amber stood near the doorway unable to fully look at you.

You already knew something was wrong.

She’d been distant for weeks now.

Quieter.

Always distracted.

“Amber,” you whispered carefully, “what’s happening?”

Her chest ached hearing the fear in your voice.

Nothing dangerous existed on earth compared to hurting you.

But she forced the words out anyway.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Silence.

“What?”

Amber clenched her jaw hard enough to hurt.

“I think we should end things.”

You stared at her like the sentence physically hit you.

“No,” you said immediately. “No, you don’t mean that.”

God.

If only you knew how desperately she wished you were right.

You stepped closer.

“Talk to me.”

Amber backed away instinctively.

The movement shattered something in your expression immediately.

“Why are you acting like I’m going to hurt you?” you whispered.

Because I’m the monster here.

But Amber couldn’t say that.

Wouldn’t say that.

So instead she chose cruelty.

The safer option.

“You deserve someone normal,” she said flatly.

Your face crumpled instantly.

“Normal?”

Amber forced herself not to react.

“You want a future I can’t give you.”

“That’s not your decision.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Then HELP ME understand!”

Your voice cracked finally.

And Amber almost broke right there.

Because after all these years—

You still trusted her enough to beg for honesty.

Meanwhile she stood there drowning in lies.

“I’m tired,” Amber whispered finally. “I can’t keep pretending this relationship works.”

Pretending.

The word hit you like a slap.

Because loving you had never been pretend.

Not once.

Tears filled your eyes immediately.

“So that’s it?” you whispered shakily. “After everything?”

Amber looked away because if she saw you cry any longer, she was going to stay.

And staying would destroy you eventually.

“It’s over.”

You stared at her silently for several horrible seconds.

Then finally nodded once.

Small.

Broken.

“Okay.”

Amber felt her undead heart crack apart hearing that.

But she still left.

Because she thought leaving would protect you.

Instead—

It ruined both of you.

Weeks passed afterward.

Then months.

And somehow Amber’s existence became even emptier than before you.

The apartment felt unbearable now.

Everywhere she looked reminded her of you.

The hoodie you accidentally left behind.

Your favorite tea sitting untouched in the cabinet.

A picture booth strip hidden in her desk drawer.

Immortality had always felt lonely.

But now?

Now it felt unbearable.

Meanwhile you spent every day trying to understand what happened.

Because none of it made sense.

Amber loved you.

You knew she did.

So why did she leave like she was terrified of something?

Eventually grief turned into anger.

Then confusion.

Then longing again.

And through it all—

You still missed her.

Which was exactly why six months later, when a violent storm knocked out power across the city and someone started pounding desperately on your apartment door at midnight—

You opened it.

And froze.

Amber stood there soaked from the rain.

Panicked.

Wild-eyed.

For one horrifying second, you genuinely thought she was hurt.

“Amber?”

She looked at you like she’d been drowning for months.

“I need you to listen to me,” she said urgently.

Then lightning flashed behind her.

And for the first time—

You saw them clearly.

Fangs.

Your breath caught instantly.

The world seemed to stop.

Amber looked devastated immediately.

“There was another vampire near your building,” she explained shakily. “I couldn’t stay away knowing you were in danger and I know this looks insane but please—”

You stared at her silently.

Amber’s face slowly crumpled.

“There it is,” she whispered brokenly.

Your brows furrowed.

“What?”

“The fear.”

You blinked in confusion.

Amber laughed bitterly at herself.

“I knew eventually you’d look at me like that.”

And suddenly—

Everything clicked.

The distance.

The panic.

The breakup.

The constant fear in her eyes every time you got too close.

She hadn’t left because she stopped loving you.

She left because she thought you’d hate her.

Your chest ached painfully.

“Amber…”

“You should stay away from me,” she whispered hoarsely. “I’m not safe.”

Rain poured behind her while she stood there looking more terrified of herself than you ever could be.

And honestly?

That hurt worse than the fangs did.

Slowly, carefully—

You stepped closer.

Amber immediately backed away.

“No.”

“Amber—”

“You don’t understand what I am.”

Your eyes burned suddenly.

“You think I care more about WHAT you are than WHO you are?”

She froze completely.

Silence.

Then softly—

“You’re still you.”

Amber stared at you like the words physically wounded her.

Because after centuries of being treated like a monster—

You were still looking at her like someone worth loving.

And for the first time in two hundred years—

And somewhere along the way, fear quietly rooted itself inside her chest.

Not fear of skating.

Not fear of competing.

Fear of disappointing people.

Especially when it came to you.

Because falling in love with you had been terrifying from the beginning.

Not because you were hard to love.

God, no.

You were the easiest person she'd ever loved.

But because every time Isabeau looked at you, something inside her whispered:

What if people hate you for this?

The relationship stayed secret for almost a year.

Not because you asked.

Actually, you would've supported whatever made her comfortable.

But Isabeau kept finding reasons to wait.

"Maybe after Nationals."

"Things are too hectic before Worlds."

"Maybe after the Olympic season."

And every time you nodded understandingly, guilt clawed deeper into her chest.

Because the truth was uglier than scheduling.

She was scared.

Not of you.

Never you.

Of headlines.

Of comments sections.

Of disappointing sponsors.

Of conservative skating fans.

Of becoming "the lesbian skater" instead of just Isabeau.

And worst of all-

A part of her hated herself for even being afraid.

You noticed the hesitation slowly.

The way she got nervous holding your hand in public.

The way she immediately let go if someone looked too long.

How during Olympic season, she barely even let herself look at you around cameras.

Meanwhile behind closed doors?

She loved you so openly it almost hurt.

Late-night phone calls that lasted until sunrise.

Forehead kisses before practice.

Sleepy whispered "I love you"s.

Her entire face softening every time you entered a room.

Which somehow made the distance in public hurt even more.

The breaking point came after Worlds.

Isabeau had skated beautifully.

Not perfectly-she'd criticize herself for tiny things afterward of course-but beautifully enough that interviews and media obligations swallowed her entire evening.

You waited patiently near the exit area while reporters crowded around her.

Then one interviewer smiled casually and asked:

"So Isabeau, any special person celebrating with you tonight?"

The answer should've been easy.

Because you were right there.

Instead Isabeau froze.

Only for a second.

But you noticed.

And then she laughed nervously.

"Oh, you know, just family and friends."

Friends.

The word hit harder than you expected.

Not because you thought she meant it maliciously.

But because suddenly everything clicked together painfully.

You stood there watching the girl who kissed you like you were precious suddenly act terrified to claim you publicly.

And for the first time-

You wondered if she ever would.

Later that night in the hotel room, Isabeau immediately noticed something was wrong.

"You're quiet," she said softly.

You looked away.

"I'm fine."

"No you're not."

Silence stretched between both of you.

Then finally-

"Why are you ashamed of me?"

The words shattered the room instantly.

Isabeau looked horrified.

"What?"

"You heard me."

"I'm not ashamed of you."

"Then why does it feel like you are?"

Your voice cracked despite trying to stay calm.

"Because every time someone asks about your life, it's like you panic that I exist."

"That's not fair-"

"Isn't it?"

Isabeau stopped talking immediately.

Because the worst part?

Part of you was right.

Not ashamed of you.

Ashamed of herself.

Ashamed that she couldn't just be brave.

Tears burned behind Isabeau's eyes immediately.

"You don't understand how scary this is for me."

"I know it's scary," you whispered. "But loving me shouldn't feel like something you need to hide."

That sentence nearly destroyed her.

Because she loved you more than anything.

Yet somehow she kept making you feel hidden anyway.

You looked exhausted suddenly.

Emotionally exhausted.

"I don't need some huge announcement," you said quietly. "I just... want to feel like you're not afraid to love me."

Isabeau started crying then.

Actually crying.

Because she realized something awful:

Her fear had started hurting you more than protecting her.

"I'm trying," she whispered brokenly.

"I know."

And that somehow hurt worse.

Because you weren't angry.

You were understanding.

Patient.

Gentle.

Even while your heart broke.

That night ended quietly.

No screaming.

No dramatic breakup.

Just two people lying beside each other hurting in different ways.

But after you fell asleep facing the opposite direction, Isabeau stayed awake staring at the ceiling for hours.

Thinking.

About the little girl she used to be.

About how hard she fought for every medal.

Every title.

Every opportunity.

About how fearless she looked on the ice compared to how terrified she felt off it.

And eventually-

She realized something.

If she could skate in front of millions of people despite fear...

Why couldn't she love you bravely too?

The answer came a week later.

At Stars on Ice rehearsal.

You were sitting quietly in the audience section watching practice while Isabeau adjusted her skates near the boards beside Amber Glenn.

Amber looked over toward you.

Then back at Isabeau.

"You know she looks sad lately."

Isabeau's chest tightened instantly.

Amber's expression softened slightly.

"She loves you a lot."

"I know."

"Then stop making her feel like something you need to survive instead of something you're proud of."

That hit hard.

Because Amber wasn't judging her.

Just telling the truth.

And suddenly Isabeau felt tired.

Tired of fear controlling something beautiful.

So later that night after rehearsal, when fans gathered outside waiting for photos and autographs-

You stood nearby like always, trying not to draw attention.

Isabeau finished signing a program before glancing toward you.

Then paused.

Her heartbeat pounded violently.

Fear screamed inside her chest.

But this time-

She ignored it.

Instead, Isabeau walked directly toward you in front of everyone.

And before she could overthink herself out of it-

She grabbed your hand.

The world didn't end.

Nobody screamed.

No disaster happened.

Just warmth.

Your shocked expression.

And Isabeau realizing your hand fit perfectly in hers.

One fan nearby smiled softly.

Another person barely even noticed.

And suddenly Isabeau almost wanted to laugh at herself.

Because she spent so long convinced loving you openly would ruin her life-

When really it made her feel freer than she'd ever felt before.

You looked at her carefully.

"Are you sure?" you whispered.

For the first time in a long time-

Isabeau answered honestly without fear.

"Yeah," she said softly. "I am."

Then gently, right there outside the rink surrounded by lights and people and cameras and everything that once terrified her-

Isabeau kissed you.

Not hidden.

Not rushed.

Not afraid.

And when she pulled back, tears filled her eyes again.

But this time-

They weren't from shame.

They were relief.

Because finally, after all this time-

Your hoodies? More comfortable.

Your sweatpants? Better somehow.

Your giant flannels? "Emotionally supportive," according to Amber.

Even your oversized graphic tees slowly vanished from your closet one by one.

The worst part?

She looked ridiculously adorable wearing them.

Amber naturally had this energetic personality off the ice-loud laughs, chaotic stories, dramatic reactions-but when she wore your clothes, something about her softened.

Maybe because oversized clothes made her look smaller somehow.

Or maybe because every time she borrowed something, she acted so weirdly content afterward.

Like your hoodies became her safe place.

One afternoon after practice in Colorado Springs, you came back to the apartment and immediately knew something was wrong.

Because it was quiet.

Too quiet.

Usually Amber greeted you dramatically within thirty seconds of hearing the front door.

Instead, you found her curled sideways on the couch completely exhausted, still wearing training leggings and-

You narrowed your eyes.

"...Is that my hoodie again?"

Amber didn't even open her eyes.

"Mhm."

"That one disappeared three weeks ago."

"I rescued it."

"You stole it."

"No," she argued sleepily. "Borrowed permanently."

You snorted quietly before walking closer.

Training had clearly wrecked her today.

Her hair was messy from practice, and there were faint marks on her hands from repeatedly adjusting skates. Between national team training camps, media obligations, choreography run-throughs, and competition prep, Amber pushed herself constantly during the season.

Some days it caught up to her.

Today looked like one of those days.

You sat carefully beside her on the couch.

Immediately, Amber leaned into your side automatically without even thinking about it.

"You okay?" you asked softly.

"Tired."

"Bad practice?"

Amber groaned dramatically into your shoulder.

"My axel hates me personally."

"That sounds fake."

"It's TRUE."

You laughed quietly while brushing your fingers through her hair.

And within seconds, Amber somehow got even closer.

Like wearing your clothes and sitting beside you physically reset her nervous system.

Eventually you glanced down at the hoodie again.

"You know you could just buy oversized hoodies."

Amber finally opened one eye.

"That's not the point."

"What IS the point then?"

She looked at you for a second.

Then her expression softened completely.

"They smell like you."

Your brain stopped functioning briefly.

Amber immediately realized what she admitted and turned bright red.

"I mean-not in a creepy way."

"You literally steal my clothes."

"Okay fair."

You laughed softly while Amber buried her face into your shoulder dramatically to hide her embarrassment.

But honestly?

Your chest melted a little.

Because Amber Glenn-confident performer, elite skater, chaos gremlin of a human being-got shy about things like this sometimes.

Especially relationship things.

"I just like them," she mumbled into your hoodie. "They're warm and baggy and feel safe."

Safe.

That word hit differently.

Especially knowing how intense her career could get sometimes.

The pressure.

The expectations.

The constant travel and scrutiny that came with being one of Team USA's top skaters.

So if wearing your oversized clothes made her feel calmer?

You'd let her steal every hoodie you owned.

Even if she was absolutely never giving them back.

A week later things escalated further.

Because Amber showed up to Stars on Ice rehearsal wearing one of your giant jackets.

Not subtly either.

It was obviously yours.

Especially because the sleeves covered half her hands.

The second Alysa Liu saw her, she burst out laughing.

"Oh my god not the emotional support jacket again."

Amber pointed accusingly.

"Don't expose me."

Too late.

Jason Brown looked delighted.

"Wait, are those your girlfriend's clothes?"

Amber crossed her arms defensively.

"Maybe."

"You're doing the thing," Alysa accused dramatically.

"What thing?"

"The lovesick stealing-clothes thing."

Amber gasped.

"I am NOT lovesick."

Everyone stared at her silently.

Meanwhile across the rink, you had just arrived carrying coffee for her.

Amber immediately lit up the second she saw you.

Actually lit up.

And Alysa started cackling instantly.

"Oh that girl is DOWN BAD."

Amber ignored her completely and skated directly toward you instead.

The second she reached the boards, she leaned against them smiling up at you.

"You brought coffee?"

"You looked dead this morning."

"I love you."

The words slipped out casually.

Naturally.

Without hesitation.

Amber froze immediately afterward.

So did you.

Because even after months together, hearing it still made your heart trip over itself a little.

Amber's face turned pink almost instantly.

"...Too much?"

You smiled softly.

"Nah."

Then you tugged lightly on the sleeve of your stolen jacket.

"You can keep this one."

Amber blinked.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

Her expression melted completely.

And before anyone around the rink could tease her again, Amber grabbed your hand quickly and kissed your knuckles with the sappiest smile imaginable.

Behind her, Alysa yelled dramatically:

"SOMEBODY GET THIS WOMAN MORE OF HER GIRLFRIEND'S CLOTHES."

And honestly?

You inspired her in the same way skating inspired you.

Both of you understood what it meant to turn emotions into art.

Still-

Amber never expected your newest album to emotionally destroy her.

The album release happened during offseason training in Colorado Springs.

Amber woke up ridiculously early because she insisted on listening to the album immediately the second it dropped.

Which meant at midnight, she sat cross-legged in bed wearing one of your hoodies with giant headphones on while you pretended not to panic beside her.

"You're nervous," Amber noticed instantly.

"I'm not."

"You're literally shaking."

"I'm a passionate artist."

Amber snorted softly before pressing play.

The album itself was incredible.

Of course it was.

Amber already loved every song you'd ever released.

She listened carefully to every lyric while occasionally looking over at you dramatically whenever a line hit particularly hard.

"You're insane actually," she whispered during track seven.

You hid your face in your hands immediately.

But then-

The album ended.

Amber blinked.

"Huh."

Your stomach dropped instantly.

"What?"

"There's one more track."

You froze.

Because technically-

There wasn't supposed to be.

Then suddenly a soft guitar melody filled the room.

A bonus track.

Untitled.

Amber frowned slightly in confusion before listening closer.

And then-

The lyrics started.

A song about falling in love with someone stubborn and bright and endlessly passionate.

Someone who hid exhaustion behind humor.

Someone who spent her life chasing impossible dreams on the ice.

Someone whose hands were always freezing after practice.

Amber slowly turned toward you.

"Oh my god."

You immediately buried your face deeper into the blanket.

"Nope. Don't look at me."

"Baby."

"No."

Amber's entire chest ached listening to the lyrics.

Because every single line was undeniably about her.

Not celebrity Amber.

Not Olympic-level athlete Amber.

Her.

The girl who cried over bad skates in private.

The girl who stress-ate cereal at two in the morning.

The girl who loved too loudly and feared failure constantly.

You somehow saw all of her.

And turned it into music.

By the final chorus, Amber was openly crying.

Which honestly wasn't surprising.

She cried over emotional dog videos.

This was significantly worse.

"You wrote a love song about me," she whispered shakily.

You looked horrified by your own vulnerability now.

"It was supposed to be a surprise."

"It's beautiful."

Your face turned red instantly.

Amber grabbed your hand quickly.

"No seriously," she whispered. "Nobody's ever loved me like this before."

That sentence hit you so hard emotionally you almost started crying too.

The song immediately exploded online.

Fans became obsessed with the mystery bonus track.

People dissected lyrics.

Guessed who inspired it.

Meanwhile Amber walked around training camp looking permanently emotional for two straight weeks.

Alysa Liu eventually got tired of it.

"You need to stop looking at your girlfriend like a Victorian man dying of tuberculosis."

Amber looked offended.

"I can't help it."

"She wrote ONE song."

"One PERFECT song."

Alysa groaned dramatically.

Still-

Nobody realized Amber was secretly planning something.

Because while the internet obsessed over your song, Amber kept replaying it privately during practices.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Until eventually her choreographer noticed.

"You really love this music."

Amber looked up slowly.

And suddenly-

An idea formed.

By competition season, Amber had kept the secret perfectly.

Which honestly shocked everyone who knew her because she was historically terrible at surprises.

You only realized something was happening when Amber became weirdly protective over her new program music.

"No spoilers," she insisted constantly.

"Amber."

"No."

"You literally spoiled my Christmas present three weeks early last year."

"That was different."

Then came the first major competition of the season.

You sat nervously in the audience beside other skaters' families while Amber prepared backstage.

The arena buzzed with energy.

Commentators discussing layouts.

Fans cheering loudly.

And when Amber's name was announced-

You smiled automatically.

God.

No matter how many times you watched her skate, it still stole your breath.

Amber stepped onto the ice looking focused.

Confident.

Then the music started.

Your music.

You physically stopped breathing.

Around the arena, confused murmurs spread instantly.

Because suddenly your voice echoed through the entire building.

Amber glanced toward you briefly from center ice.

And smiled.

A real smile.

Not performance polish.

Not competitive focus.

Love.

Then she started skating.

And suddenly your song looked completely different through movement.

Amber interpreted every lyric like she was telling your story back to you.

The soft moments.

The emotional crescendos.

The joy hidden between lines.

Every movement felt intimate.

Personal.

Like she wasn't performing for judges anymore.

She was answering your song.

By the second half of the program, tears blurred your vision completely.

And apparently you weren't alone because even the commentators sounded emotional.

Meanwhile backstage, Alysa was losing her mind.

"She USED THE LOVE SONG."

Jason Brown looked seconds away from crying too.

"Oh this is sickeningly romantic."

When Amber hit her final pose, the crowd exploded instantly.

But Amber barely seemed to hear it.

Because she was looking directly at you.

Only you.

Then after scores, interviews, and approximately a thousand emotional hugs later, Amber finally found you backstage.

The second she reached you-

You launched yourself into her arms.

"You used my song," you whispered tearfully.

Amber laughed softly while holding you tightly.

"You wrote me a love song first."

"That was private emotional damage."

"Well now we're even."

You pulled back just enough to look at her.

"You skated beautifully."

Amber's expression softened instantly.

"I could feel you the whole time."

That nearly broke you emotionally all over again.

Because somehow the two of you had done the same thing in different ways.

You wrote your love into music.

And Amber turned that music into movement.

Art loving art.

And standing there backstage while Amber kissed your forehead gently with your song still echoing faintly through the arena speakers-

You realized something quietly beautiful.

Some love stories didn't just get spoken.

And because Olympic season was chaos.

Training camps.

Media days.

Travel.

Pressure from every direction.

She was exhausted too.

So neither of you realized how bad things were getting until it was already too late.

When Isabeau left for the Winter Olympics, you stood at the airport hugging her tightly while she kissed your forehead over and over.

"I'll call you every day," she promised softly.

You smiled.

"I know."

"I mean it."

"I know, Beau."

God, she loved when you called her that.

Isabeau smiled instantly before grabbing your face gently.

"And when I come home," she whispered dramatically, "you're legally required to let me sleep for approximately sixteen hours."

You laughed softly despite yourself.

"Deal."

Then she kissed you goodbye.

And for a little while after she left, you held yourself together.

Barely.

You watched every event.

Every interview.

Every practice clip people uploaded online.

You texted her constantly encouragement and support even when getting out of bed felt impossible some days.

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away in Italy, Isabeau missed you terribly.

But she thought missing you was the problem.

Not realizing something much deeper was happening back home.

The first sign should've been the calls getting shorter.

Then the texts slowing down.

Then eventually-

You stopped sending selfies altogether.

Whenever Isabeau asked, you brushed it off.

"Just tired."

"Didn't sleep good."

"Busy day."

But the truth was uglier.

You stopped recognizing yourself lately.

The apartment slowly became darker over time.

Laundry piled up.

Dishes stayed in the sink.

Some days you just sat motionless staring at the TV without actually watching anything.

The loneliness made everything worse.

Especially seeing Isabeau surrounded constantly by teammates and cameras and excitement while you felt trapped alone inside your own head.

And the guilt ate you alive because part of you hated feeling abandoned when you knew she was literally living out her dream.

So instead of telling her the truth-

You got quieter.

Meanwhile Isabeau kept trying.

FaceTimes after practices.

Pictures from Olympic Village.

Sleepy voice notes at three in the morning Italy time because she missed you.

But depression had a way of making love feel very far away sometimes.

Eventually the Olympics ended.

Then Stars on Ice began almost immediately afterward.

And somehow that made things even harder.

Because now Isabeau wasn't just busy-

She was constantly moving.

Different cities every few days.

Rehearsals.

Shows.

Meet-and-greets.

Travel exhaustion.

Still, every single night she texted you.

Even when you only answered with short replies.

You never realized how much those replies worried her.

Especially because Isabeau knew you.

Knew how warm and talkative you usually were with her.

So when "goodnight ❤️" slowly turned into just "night," something inside her started panicking.

By the final month of tour, Isabeau spent almost every night lying awake in hotel rooms staring at your messages wondering what she missed.

Then came the last show.

Everyone celebrated backstage.

Amber Glenn and Alysa Liu were already planning chaotic afterparties while skaters hugged goodbye emotionally.

But Isabeau couldn't focus.

Because all day, you barely answered her texts.

And something felt wrong.

Deeply wrong.

The second tour officially ended, she practically sprinted through the airport trying to get home.

By the time Isabeau unlocked your apartment door late that night, exhaustion clung to her entire body.

Still-

The moment she stepped inside, her stomach dropped instantly.

The apartment was dark.

Not cozy dark.

Heavy dark.

The kind that felt lived-in but abandoned at the same time.

And then she saw you.

Curled beneath blankets on the couch.

You looked smaller somehow.

Thinner maybe.

Or maybe just tired in a way sleep couldn't fix.

"Baby?" Isabeau whispered softly.

You startled awake immediately.

For half a second confusion crossed your face.

Then relief.

"Oh."

That tiny sound nearly broke her heart.

Isabeau dropped her bags instantly before kneeling beside the couch.

"What happened?"

You tried smiling automatically.

"Nothing."

But your voice cracked.

And suddenly Isabeau knew.

Not details.

Not everything.

But enough.

"Oh baby," she whispered painfully.

The gentleness in her voice shattered the fragile wall you'd been holding together for months.

You started crying immediately.

Not dramatic sobbing.

Just exhausted tears.

The kind people cried when they'd been carrying too much alone for too long.

"I'm sorry," you whispered shakily.

Isabeau looked horrified.

"Why are you apologizing?"

"I didn't want to ruin this for you."

That sentence physically hurt her.

Because all these months you thought your pain was something that needed hiding.

Like your suffering mattered less than her career.

Isabeau climbed carefully onto the couch beside you and immediately pulled you into her arms.

"You could never ruin anything," she whispered fiercely.

You cried harder hearing that.

And honestly?

So did she.

Because suddenly Isabeau realized how many signs she missed.

How many "I'm tired" texts were really cries for help.

How alone you must've felt while she skated under bright arena lights across the world.

"I should've noticed," she whispered tearfully into your hair.

"It's not your fault."

But Isabeau still felt guilty.

Because while she chased medals and applause and performances-

You were drowning quietly back home.

That night she didn't unpack a single suitcase.

Didn't check social media.

Didn't answer anyone's texts.

Instead, Isabeau stayed beside you.

She cleaned the apartment slowly while you slept against her shoulder.

Ordered food because she realized you barely ate properly lately.

Changed the bedsheets.

Opened the curtains the next morning so sunlight finally entered the apartment again.

And over the following weeks-

Isabeau took care of you the same way you always took care of her during difficult seasons.

Gently.

Patiently.

Never making you feel broken.

Some mornings she simply sat beside you quietly until you felt ready to get out of bed.

Other days she dragged you outside for tiny walks while holding your hand the entire time.

When your thoughts got too loud, she'd ramble about skating drama until you smiled again.

And every night without fail-

She held your face gently before bed and whispered:

"I'm here."

Not "fixing" you.

Not rushing you.

Just there.

Steady.

Loving.

One evening almost two months after tour ended, the two of you sat together on the apartment balcony watching the sunset quietly.

You leaned against her shoulder while Isabeau absentmindedly played with your fingers.

Then softly-

"I think I forgot what it felt like to be okay for a while."

Isabeau's chest tightened instantly.

She kissed the top of your head carefully.

"You don't have to figure it out alone anymore."

And for the first time in months-

Every tone shift.

Every sigh.

Every pause that lasted a second too long.

Sometimes Alysa forgot how observant you really were.

Especially during skating season.

Because after returning to competitive skating, Alysa's life became chaotic again quickly.

Training.

Travel.

Media.

Recovery.

Sponsors.

Then Stars on Ice rehearsals layered on top of everything else.

Some days she came home physically exhausted.

And while she still loved you endlessly-

She occasionally got things wrong.

Like forgetting to warn you before changing plans suddenly.

Or accidentally overwhelming you after long practices because she talked too loudly without realizing it.

And every time she messed up, Alysa apologized immediately.

But lately she'd started looking tired afterward.

Not annoyed.

Not angry.

Just tired.

Unfortunately-

Your brain interpreted exhaustion differently.

Because your entire life, people eventually got tired of accommodating you.

Teachers.

Friends.

Family.

Especially your family.

The second they found out you liked girls, things got worse somehow.

And eventually the distance between you and them became permanent.

So now every tiny shift in Alysa terrified you.

Because deep down, part of you constantly waited for people to realize loving you was too difficult.

And lately?

You thought Alysa was realizing it too.

The worst part was that Alysa genuinely didn't notice what was happening.

Because in her mind, she was simply overwhelmed balancing everything.

Not falling out of love.

Never that.

But one bad week turned into another.

Then another.

And suddenly every interaction felt heavier.

One night after practice, Alysa accidentally snapped while trying to help you through sensory overload after the grocery store became too overwhelming.

Not cruelly.

Not aggressively.

Just exhausted.

"Baby, I'm trying, okay?"

The second the words left her mouth, Alysa regretted them instantly.

Because your face fell immediately.

Like something inside you cracked quietly.

"I know," you whispered softly.

Alysa immediately moved closer.

"No no, I didn't mean-"

"It's okay."

But it clearly wasn't.

And somehow that hurt worse.

Afterward Alysa apologized repeatedly.

You told her it was fine.

But your brain wouldn't let it go.

Because now every exhausted sigh sounded loaded.

Every tired expression looked painful.

And you noticed all of it.

Too much of it.

You always noticed too much.

Eventually the thought settled painfully into your chest:

I'm becoming too much for her.

So one evening while Alysa was still at practice, you packed a small suitcase quietly.

Not much.

A few clothes.

Your headphones.

Your favorite oversized sweater.

You stared at the apartment afterward feeling numb.

Alysa's skate guards sat near the doorway.

One of her hoodies still draped over the couch.

Your favorite mug beside the sink.

You cried while leaving.

Not loudly.

Just silently.

Because despite what your brain kept telling you-

You loved her more than anything.

You just thought leaving might make her life easier.

Unfortunately, you had nowhere to go.

Your family barely spoke to you anymore.

Most old friendships disappeared years ago.

So eventually your feet carried you somewhere familiar instead.

The flower patch.

Hidden deep in a quiet section of the park hardly anyone visited.

You discovered it months ago during a bad sensory day.

Wildflowers everywhere.

Soft wind.

No loud people.

No overwhelming noise.

Just quiet enough to feel safe instead of lonely.

So now you sat there curled beneath a tree with your suitcase beside you while night slowly settled around the park.

Meanwhile across town, Alysa finally got home around 10 PM completely exhausted from practice.

The second she opened the apartment door-

Something felt wrong.

It was too quiet.

Painfully quiet.

Even when you slept, you always kept something playing softly in the background.

Music.

Rain sounds.

A TV show.

Anything.

But tonight?

Nothing.

Alysa's stomach dropped instantly.

"Baby?"

No answer.

She checked the bedroom first.

Then the bathroom.

Then finally noticed the half-empty closet.

And the missing suitcase.

Panic hit immediately.

Not anxiety.

Not concern.

Panic.

"No no no no-"

Alysa grabbed her phone instantly.

Multiple calls.

Straight to voicemail.

Texts after texts after texts.

Where are you?

please answer

baby im serious please answer me

im sorry if i upset you

please just tell me youre okay

Nothing.

Alysa felt physically sick.

Because suddenly every exhausted moment replayed inside her head all at once.

Every sigh.

Every missed cue.

Every time she looked too tired.

"Oh my god," she whispered shakily.

Then immediately grabbed her keys again.

She ignored how badly her body hurt from practice.

Ignored exhaustion completely.

And drove everywhere she could think of.

Your favorite coffee shop.

The bookstore.

The quiet convenience store you liked.

Nothing.

By the time Alysa pulled into the park parking lot nearly an hour later, desperation clawed painfully at her chest.

Please be here.

Please.

Then finally-

She saw you.

Curled quietly near the flower patch beneath dim moonlight.

Safe.

Relief hit Alysa so hard she almost cried immediately.

You looked up hearing footsteps approach.

The second you saw Alysa, guilt flooded your face instantly.

"Alysa-"

Before you could say anything else, Alysa dropped to her knees beside you and pulled you into her arms so fast it almost startled you.

"Oh my god," she whispered shakily into your shoulder. "Don't ever scare me like that again."

And that was when you realized-

She'd been crying.

You pulled back slightly in surprise.

"Alysa..."

"I thought something happened to you."

Her voice cracked badly on the last word.

You stared at her silently.

Then quietly-

"I thought you were getting tired of me."

Alysa froze instantly.

"What?"

Your hands twisted nervously in your lap.

"You always look exhausted trying to help me lately," you admitted softly. "And I know I'm difficult sometimes and-"

"Hey," Alysa interrupted immediately.

Firm.

Gentle.

"Don't do that."

You looked down instead.

"But it's true."

"No," Alysa said quickly. "I'm tired because skating is exhausting sometimes. Not because of you."

You blinked uncertainly.

Alysa moved closer carefully.

"Baby, I need you to listen to me okay?"

Slowly, you nodded.

"I'm still learning," Alysa admitted honestly. "And yeah sometimes I mess things up. Sometimes I get overwhelmed balancing everything."

Her eyes softened painfully.

"But none of that means I don't want you."

Your throat tightened immediately.

"I just thought..." you whispered shakily. "Eventually you'd realize loving me is too hard."

Alysa looked heartbroken hearing that.

Then gently, she grabbed your hands.

"You are not a burden to me."

Tears filled your eyes instantly.

"You don't have to leave every time you think you're making my life harder," Alysa whispered softly. "You're my favorite part of my life."

That sentence shattered something painful inside your chest.

Because she sounded so sincere.

So certain.

Alysa leaned her forehead against yours gently.

"I need you to tell me when your brain starts lying to you like this," she whispered.

You laughed weakly through tears.

"My brain lies a lot."

"Okay," Alysa said softly. "Then we'll fight it together."

Together.

Not alone.

Not abandoned.

Together.

The wind moved softly through the flower patch around you while Alysa held your hands carefully like something precious.

And for the first time in weeks-

Snow crunched beneath your boots as another snowball narrowly missed your shoulder.

You stared at her in betrayal.

"Oh, it's ON now."

Earlier that evening, the date had actually been calm.

Sweet, even.

The two of you had spent hours wandering through a small winter festival downtown, bundled in oversized coats while soft music played through the streets.

Isabeau insisted on trying every hot chocolate stand "for scientific purposes."

You were almost certain she just liked whipped cream.

Still, watching her excitedly rank hot chocolates like an Olympic judge had been strangely adorable.

"This one tastes emotionally supportive," she announced seriously after stealing another sip from your cup.

You laughed softly.

"What does that even mean?"

"It means this hot chocolate would help me through difficult life events."

"That's concerningly specific."

"You understand me."

Honestly?

You were starting to think maybe you did.

Dating Isabeau felt easy in a way you hadn't expected.

Not awkward.

Not forced.

Just... natural.

Like somehow your personalities clicked together immediately.

Even now, walking her home through softly falling snow, conversation came effortlessly.

Your shoulders occasionally bumped together on the sidewalk.

Sometimes Isabeau reached for your sleeve absentmindedly while talking.

Neither of you pointed it out.

Neither of you mentioned the fact that this was your third date and still no one had made a move yet.

But the tension was there.

Soft.

Nervous.

Lingering.

Especially whenever Isabeau smiled at you too long.

"You know," she admitted while walking beside you, "I was really nervous before tonight."

You looked over surprised.

"You were?"

"Yeah."

She laughed quietly at herself.

"I wanted this date to go perfectly."

Something warm settled in your chest immediately.

"You know," you teased gently, "most people don't measure dates by hot chocolate rankings."

"You're limiting your imagination."

You laughed again.

God.

She was cute.

Dangerously cute.

By the time you reached your apartment building, snow had started falling heavier around both of you.

Streetlights reflected softly against the white-covered sidewalks while the world around you felt strangely quiet.

Peaceful.

For a second neither of you moved.

The date technically over now.

But neither of you seemed ready to say goodbye.

Isabeau shoved her hands deeper into her coat pockets awkwardly.

"So..."

"So," you echoed softly.

Her cheeks were pink from the cold.

Or maybe from nerves.

Possibly both.

"I had a really good time tonight," she admitted quietly.

Your heart melted slightly.

"Me too."

Another pause.

The kind full of almosts.

Then suddenly-

A snowball hit your shoulder.

You blinked.

Slowly looked down at the snow sliding off your coat.

Then looked back up at Isabeau.

Who immediately looked horrified by her own actions.

"Oh my god," she whispered.

You narrowed your eyes.

"You just attacked me."

"It was an impulse decision."

"You made a terrible choice."

Isabeau laughed instantly before taking off running down the sidewalk.

You stared after her dramatically.

"ISABEAU."

Her laughter echoed through the snowy street.

"You were too powerful emotionally!"

You scooped snow into your hands immediately.

"Oh you're DONE."

The next ten minutes devolved into complete chaos.

Snowballs flying everywhere.

Both of you laughing too hard to aim properly.

At one point Isabeau nearly slipped trying to dodge your attack and grabbed your arm instinctively to stay upright.

The two of you froze for half a second afterward.

Close.

Really close.

Then she panicked and threw another snowball directly into your chest.

You gasped.

"That was personal."

"You're scary when competitive!"

"You started this war!"

Eventually both of you became breathless from laughing and running through snow.

Isabeau bent over slightly trying to catch her breath while snowflakes clung to her hair and eyelashes.

And honestly?

She looked beautiful.

The kind of beautiful that snuck up on people.

Soft.

Real.

Warm despite the cold around her.

Then Isabeau looked up and caught you staring.

Immediately, her smile softened.

The air changed instantly.

Quieter now.

Neither of you moved.

Snow drifted slowly around both of you while distant city sounds faded into the background.

And for the first time all night-

Isabeau looked nervous.

Not playful nervous.

Real nervous.

"You know," she said softly, "I've kinda wanted to do something all night."

Your heartbeat sped up immediately.

"Oh?"

Isabeau laughed quietly.

"You saying 'oh' like that is making this worse."

You smiled slightly.

"Sorry."

"No you're not."

Fair point.

She stepped closer slowly.

Close enough now that you could see every tiny snowflake melting against her scarf.

And somehow Isabeau Levito-elite skater, performer in front of thousands, literal competitor on international ice-looked genuinely shy.

"Can I kiss you?" she whispered.

Your chest melted instantly.

"Yeah," you answered softly. "You can."

Isabeau smiled then.

Small.

Almost disbelieving.

And then she kissed you.

Gentle at first.

Careful.

Like she was scared of ruining something.

But the second you kissed her back, she relaxed completely.

One hand lightly grabbing your coat sleeve while snow continued falling around both of you.

The kiss itself wasn't dramatic.

Wasn't perfect movie magic.

It was better.

Warm laughter still lingering between you.

Cold noses.

Smiles interrupting the kiss halfway through because neither of you could stop grinning.

When Isabeau finally pulled back, both of you looked equally stunned.

"Oh," she whispered softly.

You laughed quietly.

"What?"

"That was definitely worth getting hit by snowballs."

You snorted.

"So romantic."

"I'm serious!"

Her cheeks turned pinker immediately.

Then suddenly she pointed accusingly at you.

"Wait-you distracted me."

"With a kiss?"

"Yes."

"That sounds fake."

Before Isabeau could answer, you quickly grabbed another handful of snow.

Her eyes widened instantly.

"Oh no."

"Oh yes."

And seconds later the snowball fight officially resumed-

The problem was the silence afterward.

Because Alysa didn't address the rumors at all.

No denial.

No clarification.

Nothing.

And logically?

You understood why.

Engaging with gossip usually made things worse.

Alysa had dealt with media attention practically her entire life. She knew ignoring rumors was usually the smartest option.

But emotionally?

It still hurt.

Especially because your relationship had always been private.

Not secret.

Just protected.

Alysa posted you sometimes in casual ways-your hand in photos, blurry date-night pictures, your shoes beside hers-but never enough for the public to fully know who you were.

Which usually felt safe.

Until now.

Now every comment section made your stomach twist.

"They'd actually be cute together."

"Wait I thought Alysa was single?"

"They're definitely dating."

You never told Alysa how badly it got to you.

Mostly because you felt guilty for even feeling insecure.

She hadn't done anything wrong.

Still-

Every time she dodged another interviewer question or ignored another viral rumor online, a tiny voice in your head whispered:

If she wanted to claim you publicly, she would.

And honestly?

That thought wrecked you more than the rumors themselves.

Alysa noticed the change slowly.

The quieter phone calls.

The way you stopped sending teasing texts during rehearsals.

How your smile looked smaller every time the rumors resurfaced online.

But Alysa misunderstood the reason completely.

She thought maybe the distance from tour was just hard on you both.

So she tried compensating in other ways.

Extra FaceTimes.

Late-night calls from hotel rooms.

Pictures from rehearsals.

"Miss you :("

"Wish you were here."

And every single message made you feel worse somehow.

Because she loved you.

You knew she did.

Yet part of you still felt invisible.

By the final week of Stars on Ice, you were emotionally exhausted.

You hated feeling jealous.

Hated feeling insecure.

Hated that some stupid internet rumors affected you this much.

So instead of talking about it-

You swallowed it down.

Like always.

Then came the final show.

You decided to attend mostly because Alysa begged.

"Please?" she'd whined dramatically over FaceTime. "It's the last show."

So now you sat quietly near the front row while the arena buzzed around you.

The show itself was incredible.

Of course it was.

Alysa looked completely alive on the ice-playful, fearless, effortlessly expressive in the way that made audiences adore her.

And watching her skate still made your chest ache with love despite everything.

Unfortunately, the media section afterward ruined your mood again almost immediately.

Because during post-show interviews, one reporter smiled a little too knowingly before asking:

"So Alysa, fans online are very curious about you and another skater on tour-"

Your stomach dropped instantly.

Alysa's expression changed immediately.

Not angry.

Just tired.

The interviewer continued anyway.

"There's been a lot of dating speculation recently. Any comments?"

The arena hallway suddenly felt painfully quiet.

You looked away instinctively, already preparing yourself for another vague laugh-off answer.

But then-

Alysa spoke.

"Yeah actually."

You blinked in surprise.

Alysa crossed her arms casually.

"I'm not dating any skaters on this tour."

The interviewer looked startled.

"But the rumors-"

"Are rumors," Alysa interrupted simply.

Then her expression softened suddenly.

"And honestly? My girlfriend deserves better than constantly seeing people make up stories about me."

Your breath caught instantly.

The reporter looked surprised.

"You have a girlfriend?"

Alysa looked almost offended.

"Yeah? For a while now actually."

Your entire chest tightened painfully.

Because Alysa almost never talked publicly about your relationship.

Not because she hid you.

Just because she protected her private life fiercely after growing up so publicly.

But now?

Now she kept going anyway.

"She's not famous," Alysa explained calmly. "And she likes her privacy, so I'm not putting her life online."

Something in your eyes immediately burned.

"But she's literally the best person I know," Alysa continued easily. "And if she's seeing all this rumor stuff, I hope she knows I'm ridiculously in love with her."

The entire world stopped.

You genuinely forgot how to breathe.

Meanwhile Alysa just shrugged casually like she hadn't detonated your emotions completely.

"I don't really care about internet gossip," she added. "But I care about her."

Silence hung for a second before another reporter awkwardly moved onto skating questions.

But you barely heard any of it.

Because suddenly every insecurity that spent months eating you alive cracked apart all at once.

Not because Alysa gave some huge dramatic declaration.

But because she chose you publicly without hesitation.

Calmly.

Confidently.

Like loving you wasn't something she needed to hide from anymore.

By the time Alysa escaped interviews backstage, she found you standing near the hallway looking seconds away from crying.

Her face immediately softened.

"Hey."

You stared at her for a second.

Then suddenly grabbed the front of her jacket and kissed her hard enough to surprise her completely.

Alysa made a startled noise into the kiss before immediately melting into it.

When you finally pulled away, she looked adorably confused.

"...Not complaining," she breathed. "But what was that for?"

Your eyes filled with tears embarrassingly fast.

"You idiot."

Alysa blinked.

"That narrowed it down zero percent."

You laughed shakily despite yourself.

"You had NO idea how much those rumors were messing with me?"

Her entire expression dropped instantly.

"Oh."

Immediately.

Immediately Alysa understood.

"Baby," she whispered softly.

You looked away embarrassed.

"I know it was stupid-"

"No," Alysa interrupted quickly. "No, c'mere."

She pulled you gently against her chest right there in the hallway despite staff and skaters still moving around nearby.

And honestly?

You didn't care.

"I should've realized," Alysa admitted quietly into your hair. "I thought ignoring it was better."

"I know."

"But I never want you thinking I'm unsure about you."

That sentence hit straight through your chest.

Because Alysa Liu had spent so much of her life avoiding unnecessary media attention.

Yet the second she realized your feelings were involved?

She chose you anyway.

Publicly.

Without fear.

You looked up at her carefully.

"You really meant all that?"

Alysa snorted softly.

"Baby, I could've kept going."

You laughed through tears.

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

Then Alysa gently grabbed your face.

"I don't care what rumors people make up," she whispered. "You're my person. Okay?"

And somehow-