#t.ethan

     He has put the heat on, the chilly months of the autumn creeping up on them now. And despite being dressed, under covers, comfortable enough - the apartment still feels cold. He feels cold. The tiny ball of resentment in his chest aches and shudders, trying to escape the narrow spot Ethan has buried it in, looking to expand and grow and take over his chest. He opens his eyes, peering at the sliver of light crawling underneath the door to their bedroom - he has left the light on, knowing Akizawa would return. At some point. He takes a breath, turns around and faces the empty spot next to him. The distant echo of laughter and the rumbling voice of the other man occupy the space beneath his skull. Does he show that laughter to other people? To him? 

     Resentment is joined by ferocious jealousy, before both of them are encompassed by fragile insecurity. He reaches out to touch the cold, empty space where his lover should be. He’s sure that side smells like Akizawa more. A furrow latches onto his eyebrows, before being replaced by surprise as he hears the door of the apartment groaning open and being closed with a thud. Shuffling sounds replace the solemn silence of the space now and his eyes flutter close. Perhaps he can ignore it altogether - the belated arrival (again) and his resentment, jealousy... Even the insecurity could be quieted down. He wishes sleep would attack him at this moment, he wishes not to hear the inevitable words that will come from the lips of the blond. 

     The steps of the other man pause slightly as the wooden floor groans. His breath is caught in his throat as he waits for the ritual to take place. For a moment, panic settles in his mind and he’s sure Akizawa will turn around and choose the couch over him. But then the mattress sinks in and he can’t help it. He opens his eyes and is welcomed by a passive expression - it makes his stomach twist and his chest flush with anger. Then the words come. Ethan clenches his jaw, presses his lips together, closes his eyes again. He tries to soothe his hurt ego and his tired, tangled thoughts. 

     Meniscus tear. That was the diagnosis that came from the lips of his doctor after a particularly painful day. It is a common injury amongst skaters and Ethan saw it coming. The moment he took off the ice to do a triple Lutz, he felt his knee physically pop from the place it usually nestled in. Then the inflammation and the pain arrived. The stiffness began. It was only one morning when his knee gave in, sending him against the wooden floor of his apartment that he realised there might be something wrong. They would try conservative treatment first, his doctor said - ice, rest, medication and physical therapy. Ethan considered himself lucky. In all his years of skating, he could barely count the injuries that plagued him on one hand. And now, he was forced to rest. No unnecessarily strenuous activity, definitely no skating. He began with medication to ease the pain and discomfort, a lot of resting, he continued with therapy. Twice a week, he goes to the medical centre his doctor referred him to. He is in the hands of experts, he is told.

     His knee is the last thing that plagues him, however. It's his mental health that is giving him trouble, keeping him awake at night and unable to function normally. Luckily, the competition season has just wrapped up so he can actually rest. But he doesn't want to - he misses the ice, he misses gym and not having to worry about his god damn knee. As the weeks pass by and he reaches the one month mark, his knee is definitely better. He can fully extend and bend his leg again and the pain is only dull and infrequent. It's worse on rainy days, for some reason. His depression is still not better, however. He knows he should probably do something about it, but at the same time he can't help but want to let himself go. The usual six pack he sports is a tad soft, his face a bit more sunken and alcohol has been introduced in his diet more than he wants to admit it.

One thing to know about Ethan is that he is never late. In his entire adult life, he can count on the fingers from one hand the amount of times he’s been late to something. Today he has to add another digit to that number. As he frantically makes his way into the skating rink, giving his hurried ‘good morning’ to people, he feels a sense of dread come over him. He knows he looks like a mess. Anyone would after wrestling with a bursting pipe for a good portion of the morning. The coffee cup in his hand also reminds him he might be in a bad mood because he hasn’t even been able to wake up properly before he was propelled into sorting out the mess in his apartment. In the end, he gave up, shutting of the water and trying to hurry to work. 

When he steps close enough to call his waiting pupil over, he takes the time to actually breathe and collect his thoughts some. Worried glances are passed over from different people - it also doesn’t help the rink has been undergoing renovations and a host of new faces are to be seen everywhere. In all honesty, he feels embarrassed - this is not the impression he likes to make. Once instructions are provided to the student, he takes a seat near the rink with a sigh, feeling the tiredness in his body. As bad luck would have it, as soon as he takes a sip of his coffee he realises it’s way too hot and now he has not only a headache and bad hair but also a burnt tongue. Embarrassment runs hot through him as he notices the silhouette of the man who has been spearheading the renovation project walking in and he tries to give Kotaro a smile, hoping the man did not catch him stupidly burn his tongue. He rises from his seat to welcome the man, nodding in his direction. 

    Laughter echoed beneath Ethan’s ribs as he watched Nikki struggle keep his balance above the ice, before he glided effortlessly towards his friend. 

Ethan is a creature of habit. He likes knowing his clothes will smell the same as last time when he takes them out of the drier because he always uses the same detergent. He likes not looking at his GPS because he takes the same route to work and around town every time. He likes habits that feel stable and comfortable. What he didn’t know is that he also likes habits that bring with them a thrill of excitement in his life. This has been the case for a few months - a new habit to swing by a new café to get his second coffee of the day on his way to work. He would usually not linger, but somehow, during all these months, he guesses he built some sort of familiarity with the place and it now feels strange to leave it sometimes. And, if he were honest with himself, it is perhaps also because he’s been getting to know the quiet, serious man who has been serving him the coffee at that early time in the morning. Satoshi seems to be the only one as early as he is, before the morning traffic and rush can kick in and the city rustles itself back to life. 

They’ve exchanged tidbits of information - morsels of knowledge about each other. What do you do and what books do you like to read and what’s planned for you today. The mundane, the unnoticeable, the simple things. And with every crumb of interaction and little piece of information, Ethan has grown curious about the other man. There is not enough time in the morning to ask all the questions he really wants to ask - not even if he lingers. And he often lingers. 

Today is no different and, as he fiddles in place with his to-go cup of coffee, he offers the man a smile before turns to leave. The makes it half a revolution before the gnawing curiosity pushes him back towards the counter and he leans against it a bit with another smile. 

❀ for a forehead kiss

Ethan likes the consistency of his life. He enjoys the knowledge his friends are always the same, that they always recount the same stories, that they've laughed at the same joke a thousand times. He likes knowing his mother calls him on a Wednesday and Friday afternoon and he likes being able to predict the moment she will call over his dad to talk to him on the phone. He likes the predictable and mundane, having had enough excitement to last him three life times and still feel himself reeling from change.

Nikki is anything but consistency, however.

From the way he came in his life like a challenge, like something to overcome, to the way he made Ethan doubt his own instincts and sanity, to the way how to this day Ethan still feels a thrill of excitement every time he sees Nikki smile, despite how many times he's watched the man grin that smile that makes Ethan a tad breathless and weak at the knees.

Building consistency around Nikki seemed almost impossible until this morning. On instinct, he reaches for the man's body and presses his lips to Nikki's forehead - and then he lies there for a moment, an idea scratching at him, a question sitting on the tip of his tongue.

When did this start?

He finds a memory from early in their relationship and how he sleepily reached for the other man and instead of finding his lips, his own planted a kiss against Nikki's hairline. He smiles to himself, warmth blossoming in his chest as he watches the brunet slowly wake up and come to life. He's mumbling something about coffee, before he leans in and Nikki's lips press against the corner of his mouth.

This time around, a test of dexterity. There so happened to be a small basketball behind the bar. Almost over the status of tipsy, Nikki declared that height was of upmost importance when winning a game, cockily stating that even though he barely had experience, he could score most points.

Of course, with every score, the opponent would have to drink. "Ready to get schooled?"

Ethan cocked an eyebrow, a smile pulling at his lips. Oh, this would be fun. He nodded along to Nikki's declaration, a secret grin on his lips as he neared the other man and took the ball from him.

     There is a smell in the air that welcomes him as soon as he steps into the rink. It’s the smell of frigid cold, shattered dreams, realised desires - it smells like what flying feels like. His feet carry him on instinct through the long corridors, low lightning making his shadow upon the ground diffuse. Two steaming cups of coffee sit in his hands which are now getting cold as he approaches the ice rink. Surprise contours against his features at the sounds of skates slashing across ice and he finds himself eager to see who could it be. The gasp is almost involuntary as he catches the figure of the man flying through the air, half way through a simple double lutz (one of the movements they have practised together). Ethan swears for a moment he can see wings spreading from the man’s back and he watches transfixed, even after the skates land on the ice once again. He gives a grin to himself, giddy, noticing the perfect landing of the other, the beautiful, elegant form. He looks... Breathtaking. His stomach does a somersault as he thinks that, the wedding band on his finger now heavy and cold against his skin. 

     He shakes his head softly, willing his own thoughts away, before stepping further into the rink and onto the ice, steps as stable as they would be on solid ground.