Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Yudai wakes up fully, all he can see past the blur of unconsciousness and long eyelashes, is the media. Blinding flashes and large black geometrically shaped contraptions fighting each other to get the first sight of the expression on his face, which is none other than confusion. There are mics everywhere, some on large black sticks expertly being crept towards him, the men who yield them concentrating so hard they were presenting frown lines. He looks to his side and sees none other than his brother, Taki, shooing them away and pulling out a large water gun probably filled with something that isn’t water. Yudai is almost certain that it’s bleach.

“He just woke up from a coma, and you guys are trying to get him to talk about an incredibly traumatic event? Shame!” Taki spat, warding them off with the plastic gun like he was trying to diffuse a bear attack, and Yudai diverted his attention from the growing pain in his head, to the needles and tubes stuck on his arms, deciding against ripping them out just incase they were the only reason he’s alive. Taki’s mention of trauma didn’t exactly help either, because now Yudai can hear remnants of his physio therapy sessions during his coma that the therapist would recite to his brother; “If he wakes up, he will feel ghost pain around where he was stabbed for an extended period of time,”. And the ghost pain was already beginning, it didn’t help that whoever stabbed him, didn’t hold back at all, as Yudai began to feel the pain across his back, shoulders and legs.

His throat was dry as hell, now wondering if they had even kept him hydrated while he was knocked out, tuning out the commotion in front of him to turn his head and reach for what looked like a stale glass of water on the bed-side table. Pain. 

While he struggled to reach the glass, in came senior doctors, nurses, and security guards, forcefully removing the people of the press while papers and equipment screws flew all over the room, and when Yudai pressed his eye lids together for a couple of moments, and re-opened them, the room was empty, now tranquil with a tame nurse by his side carefully removing the tubes from his arm. He cleared his throat and swallowed hard, his first words in 4 months being: “When can I go out on the ice?”

Chapter Text

Fuma is busy doing squats holding dumbbells when the guard strolls past and stops in front of him. Waiting until he was finished with his set and until Fuma looked up at him with impatience, to speak. “What is it,” He muttered, waiting less than a second before moving onto the rowing machine in the corner of the poorly ventilated gym room.

Working out at a small detention centre had been the hardest part of being there, apart from the irritating men constantly picking at him for being a figure skater, their ugly hands and uncoordinated bodies moving towards him every lunch time begging and prodding at him for makeshift lessons. Fuma had always said no. 

It had been a couple months since he had been thrown in, accused of trying to kill his gay little figure skating team mate, a petty rivalry people across campus had tried to cash in on once the press and the media hit the university grounds, thinking camera time for a five minute fame story would launch them into their desired careers.

Fuma doesn’t know who turned the press towards his trail, but there are only two names that pop up into his head every time he wakes up thinking about it. Taki, Yudai’s irritating younger brother or Sunghoon, Yudai’s slimy overachieving boyfriend who was also a top figure skater, and Fuma can never forget the way he broke down on camera in front of hundreds of cameras when he ‘found out’. Fuma doesn’t like him.

It started when he was again working out, however this time in the comfort of the studio dorm room he managed to bag miraculously. The police had kicked down the door with massive cylindrical weapons, they’d stormed in, blaring lights and for some reason guns on their belts. Fuma had been terrified and confused, because guns were for sure not needed on him. He was massive, he was strong and assertive, but not a danger.

“You got the wrong person what the fuck!” He had yelled, his head being held firm against the cold wooden floor, face smushed and neck aching. He doesn’t even remember when he had started crying, but by the time he was in the back of the police car, his shirt was drenched in sweat, his face wet and sticky with tears and snot. 

He remembers the cold bleak interrogation room, still only wearing his workout clothes, skimpy shorts and thin top, and no shoes. Fuma hadn’t realised it then, but when he had watched the released footage that hit the news, he was still crying. After watching it in the detention centre’s activity room, he had gone to the toilet, vomited, and cried himself to sleep right there.

In the interrogation room, they’d gotten a detective to fire questions at him at a pace Fuma couldn't even process, all of them overlapping with each other to the point he had a panic attack and threw up on himself. Maybe Fuma and vomiting was an issue. That didn’t even matter however, because then they had simply watched him get changed in the grimy police station toilets until he didn’t smell like protein powder, udon and milk. 

“Why did you attempt to murder Koga Yudai?” They’d asked, and Fuma felt his eyes widen.

“I’m sorry what?” He choked out, glancing back and forth between some lawyer the university had thrown at him and the old, fat detective struggling to move in the skimpy plastic chair he sat on. 

Murder? Fuma couldn’t be a murderer. The same man that collects pokemon cards with plushies scattered across the decor of his bedroom. The same man whose cupboards are stacked with games from various consoles instead of the textbooks he needs to get past his actual degree, Business? Surely they didn’t think it was Fuma.

Oh but they did. They’d shown him security footage from the street Yudai had chosen to get brutally stabbed in, a massive pointed knife, definitely brand new out of the packet, colliding with his body and tearing the clothes and skin, blood pouring out and quickly soaking his body. The attacker moved at a speed Fuma had never seen before, and instead of feeling sorry for Yudai, he instead felt jealousy, because why couldn't his limbs move as fast? 

Fuma had spent so much time analysing the perp’s form, that he completely missed how whoever was on the security footage had his exact outfit. They were accusing him based off of a very popular sports brand amongst all the male figure skaters in the club. Fuma made the mistake of laughing aloud.

“Do you find this funny Mr. Murata,” The detective questioned, eyes narrowing. 

“No, of course not I’m n- I’m not evil, but do you- what is funny is the fact you’re obviously basing these leads off of what we’re wearing. That’s not fair.” He rambled, pointing towards the video that was for some reason on a loop, back to the point of Yudai being stabbed into a pile of barely alive bloodied flesh and limbs. 

When neither the ditsy lawyer or detective answered him, he continued, “You’re only saying I’m the guy that did it because we’re both wearing an incredibly popular training brand all the guys on the figure skating team purchase from, and the fact we were ‘rivals’,” He makes airquotes with his fingers, “When that was also just petty sports talk. Yudai and I didn’t even hate each other enough to spit in each other’s drinks, I’m being framed!”

The detective sighed as he leant forward, both meaty elbows resting on the dirty metal table. Fuma still didn’t even have any shoes on. “Well, you make an amazing point there Fuma, however our team has gone through your devices, and it’s not looking good for you.”

That’s when Fuma’s heart dropped, he may actually be charged for the murder of Yudai. 

“Fuma, they found incredibly incriminating messages you had sent to a friend Euijoo, where the two of you, well mostly you, joked about Yudai ‘dying’, ‘disappearing’ and much more violence spread across multiple dates through your phone.” The lawyer speaks softly, seemingly sad as she reaches out to take a hold of Fuma’s hand. She’s already given up on him.

All Fuma remembers from that point on is yet again, vomiting everywhere and passing out, all those miserable months leading up to now, where he pointedly ignored the guard in front of him to watch his muscles bulge in front of the machine mirror.

“Murata Fuma pack your things, you’re getting out son,”

Why he was out he doesn’t know, he didn’t know anything and they certainly wouldn’t tell him, it wasn’t until he was out in the open, with Euijoo and his boyfriend Nicholas waiting for him, that he was informed Yudai had woken up and told the police that it wasn’t Fuma.

Yudai had somehow survived the brutal attack and spent months in a coma, the police apparently working relentlessly to find the true culprit, even though Fuma’s useless lawyer had told him that had the police not found anything and Yudai hadn’t woken up, they would’ve put him away just to satisfy the uproar surrounding Japan’s beloved sportsman. 

Fuma sits in the back of Euijoo’s parents’ sports car as he watches the countryside surrounding the detention centre transform into the tall buildings of Japanese cities. He thinks Euijoo is talking to him, but he isn’t listening, instead letting his fidgeting feet tap against the car floor at the thought of finally getting to be on the ice again. Luckily, the university held faith, keeping his place on hold instead of outright expelling him like everyone had called for. They lost money, stocks and investors and still refused to give up, now Fuma feels he owns these old people running the foundation, his life.

“Fuma!” Nicholas speaks, trying to get the daydreaming man’s attention. Fuma looks away from the window and nods, 

“What’s up?”

“Well, since we’re currently on the way, we thought to warn you that all of Yudai’s crowd are going to be on our section of campus,” He speaks with a frown, watching Fuma's sharp face for hints at discomfort, and when he doesn’t find anything Nicholas continues.

“As in, Sunghoon, Taki, and also Yudai will be speaking right on campus, when we left a couple hours ago they were beginning to set up,”

Fuma nods, “How long has Yudai been out of his coma?”

“About two weeks,” Nicholas replied, “They had to get him up to date and also wait for him to adjust to basic things like walking, talking, feeding himself and what not. They also had to wait till he wasn’t completely high off of all his meds,” 

“And also that little shit of a brother Taki refused to let him speak to anybody, only Sunghoon and himself were allowed to see Yudai during the recovery period,” Euijoo sneers. Nicholas flicks the side of his head delicately as a scolding.

Euijoo was a good friend of Fuma’s, also having started at the university as a figure skater, having trained since he was young, only to end up falling in love with fencing straight away. He became a pro at it as quickly as he had come to like it, whisking himself away across the globe to compete in tournaments and somehow always come back a winner. Nicholas is someone Fuma of course met through Euijoo, his timid, calm boyfriend wrapped up in the school’s ballet program. Someone also very good at his craft, Fuma unfortunately having to deal with the early stages of their relationship where neither of them accepted they liked men, and also each other. He’s glad that the angst is over now. 

By now they’re muttering to each other sweetly, and all Fuma can see is Nicholas’ defined cheekbones from his position in the car. 

And then he sees the University campus. In all of its glory, Fuma can’t help but shiver. Somewhere he used to love being, a place he’d step out to be in even when he had no practice nor classes, now settles in his stomach as a strange nauseous feeling, like a preyed animal sensing danger in the bushes ahead. And that was quite literal, because their area of campus was decked with a large stone, cathedral-like building, overgrown with technicolour green shrubs that somehow turned a dark, gloomier shade in the winter months, much like the people who trained in there, constantly putting on a show.

Euijoo parks the car and Fuma catches the wary glance he shoots at Nicholas, and Fuma can tell the older man tells his boyfriend to cut it out, and who is Euijoo to not listen to him?

Fuma sees it then, like a spectacle set up for him personally, flowers surrounding Yudai in bouquets and individually, with both Sunghoon and Taki on either side of him, in their national/university sports uniforms. Considering Taki had just gotten into the school, and was still rookie level (ass) at archery, he just had to wear the school’s colours. Sunghoon however, the show off, was dressed head to toe in South Korea’s national event uniform. The one they wore for events, as extra and extravagant as the country usually makes themselves seem, Fuma thought.

But he looked good, and he could tell half of the cameras and reporters were drooling over him, because even Fuma was now wrapped up in the thought of Sunghoon, drowning out Yudai’s words that were beginning to bore.

As if to read his mind, Yudai stops talking abruptly, and his eyes snap to Fuma. 

People notice his silence and divert their attention to what captured his, and soon everyone has their eyes fixated on the new false ex-convict.

Chapter Text

Before Fuma knows it he’s darting past the crowd and scurrying into the building that held the dining hall, running into the toilets with heavy breaths. His eyes began to blur and all of a sudden he was winded, fumbling for the sink’s countertop but instead of finding grip his sweaty palm slipped and he found himself face down on the dirty toilet floor. 

He managed to push open a stall door from down on his knees, heaving as he moved his legs and crawled up next to the toilet bowl. It was unsanitary yes but he was more focused on not vomiting all down his front. Just in time for the fatal heave, he bent over the bowl and gripped the wall with his overgrown fingernails, listening to them scrape against the grey plastic. 

When he was done, his face was drenched, sweaty hair falling against his face with stray singular hairs getting caught in his eyelashes. He sat there for a few moments, again involuntarily beginning to cry, slamming the back of his head against the cubicle divider in a small fit of rage. He didn't like Yudai as it is, now he was standing there a smug little freak and his beady bright eyes and good skin. Here he was sitting on the floor of a toilet in a weirdly smelling outfit, no money and no remaining confidence. 

Not too long later, Fuma hears two men walk into the bathroom, bickering with low level voices until they think they are in the privacy of an empty bathroom, and raise their voices a little louder.

“Maki it is the middle of the day! We are not having sex on campus,” One hisses, probably at his boyfriend or a really clingy stalker. Fuma hopes it’s the second option to make things a little interesting. 

“Rua please, I literally have practice soon and I’m hard as fuck! It’s embarrassing everyone will be able to see my boner through my uniform,” 

The horny dude is Maki, his boyfriend named Rua. He thinks he could stay in the toilet a bit longer and listen to them talk about Maki’s “already leaking” (his words not Fuma’s) dick. 

“No, pup-,” Petnames? 

“Pup I told you, I’d be putting restrictions on how many times you can cum in a week, especially by silly little quickies. That’s why when I actually want you to fuck me you don’t perform as well as you should be,”

Maki releases what sounds like a scoff, “Okay well maybe if you didn’t have a mythical cock ring on me all week I wouldn't cum so quickly! Please Rua? Just a quick handjob in the stall?”

“Oh my god, Maki I said no! One I’m also in uniform, I’m wearing black tights and black slippers, if your cum gets anywhere-”

“-It won’t if your mouth is quick enough to lap me up,” Fuma can tell Maki is sneering

“-If your cum gets anywhere,” Rua continues, “It’ll be incredibly fucking obvious. Non handjob, wait till we’re both home from practice.”

Maki huffs and Fuma can’t help but smirk. The name Maki doesn’t sound familiar, so his sport definitely doesn’t take place on his side of the campus. Rua however, describes his uniform and Fuma can conjure up something he’s sure he’s seen Nicholas wear around his and Euijoo’s shared apartment. 

And as if to read his thoughts, yet again, Fuma begins to hear the voices of the couple become closer and closer through the walls until they are also in the bathroom. He sighs.

Nicholas gasps and someone, seemingly Rua, squeaks.

“Ee~! Nico! Hi!” 

“Oh my god Harua! What are you doing here?” Nicholas laughed, Fuma assumes the two are hugging.

“Oh well Maki is yet again harassing me for-”

“Nothing! I haven’t done anything,” Maki huffs, and Euijoo snorts.

“What are you two doing in here though? Nico you don’t have ballet this week surely? You’re not in our section of the show,”

Ah, Harua does ballet.

“Ah well, we’re actually here looking for our friend Fuma,” Nicholas spoke, voice getting quieter and much more awkward. Great, it’s like Fuma is Beetlejuice. 

“I’ve never heard you mention that name before,” 

“Ah well he’s actually a friend of Euijoo’s,”

“Wait actually that name does sound familiar,” It’s Maki’s turn to speak now, and when Fuma continues to hear silence it also eggs Maki to keep going.

“Yeah wasn’t he the figure skater that was so shit at his sport he went crazy and sta-”

“Maki!” Harua gasps, and Fuma can imagine a puppy cowering away in shame as he faintly hears mumbles of apologies leave Maki’s mouth.

“He didn’t do it, he’s not crazy, and he’s certainly not a bad figure skater. Watch your mouth Maki.” Euijoo warns, and Fuma can’t help feeling a warmth in his heart listening to his friend stick up for him.

It shouldn’t even matter what Maki thinks, he doesn’t know him, but then again that’s the point. Maki doesn’t know Fuma and still thinks he’s a raging murderer. 

“Anyways,” Nicholas continues cautiously, “We’re in here because he ran off after seeing Yudai and his entourage. We thought he might be in here. And if he is, well than Maki you’ve just made a horrible first impression,”

Maki huffs again. How old was he really? He sounded pretty immature and exactly what Harua called him, a puppy.

Fuma swallows before mustering up the power to croak out a small, “I am in here,” listening to the way someone gasps quietly and someone else lets out a small ‘shit’ under their breath.

He stands up and wipes his sweaty palms on his body, trying to catch his reflection in the silver of the toilet flusher to fix his hair slightly, before slowly unlocking the door to see four people staring straight back at him.

He didn’t pay much attention to Nicholas and Euijoo, instead turning towards the others, figuring out that the small one with a toned body, long front teeth and too big irises and pupils was Harua. Dressed in the school’s official ballet class uniform with the badge on the white leotard. And Maki, who he diverted his eyes to, was massive, standing at the same height as Fuma, but slightly bigger with massively impressive thighs. He had to play rugby, no doubt about it. He however, looked quite different to the average Japanese person, with a strong, big nose and down turned eyes with no monolids. The elder realised he didn’t care enough and also felt he was making Maki uncomfortable, and so turned back to Nicholas and Euijoo.

“Thanks for looking for me,” He spoke, trying to put on a small grin. It didn’t convince either of them.

“It’s- that’s no problem!” Nicholas spoke again, for both himself and his boyfriend.

The air was getting thicker and in the reflection of the mirrors, Fuma could see the nervous way Harua’s nose twitched and his eyes spun around the room, trying to focus on anything but Fuma’s face. Maki, almost as if he sensed or smelt his boyfriend’s unease, not so subtly puffed out his chest and fixed his posture.

“This is-“

“-Maki and Harua, yes I heard them talking when they came in,” Fuma nodded, interrupting Nicholas to glance back at the couple who seemingly took a couple of steps back.

“Um, yes hi!” Harua said sweetly, managing to flash what seemed to be a genuine smile when he fully realised Fuma wasn’t any harm. Maki still wasn’t so sure.

“So did you hear everything that was said for the past 15 minutes?” Maki asked gruffly.

Harua pointedly slapped his arm. “Of course he fucking did, your voice isn’t quiet you know, and don’t act so tough, apologise.”

Maki’s eyes widened, “Me- for what?”

“For making assumptions about Fuma here! And him hearing you talk about him like he’s a freak.”

“Fine, I’m sorry Fuma, really, I shouldn’t have made assumptions,”

Fuma nodded towards him, “It’s all good!” And it really was.

But now it was getting awkward, and they were standing there in a stinking bathroom.

“Should we leave and get something to eat?” Euijoo suggested, his hand crawling upwards to rest at the space between Nichola’s back and ass, rubbing the area with his thumb while a smile took to his boyfriend’s face. To his other side, Harua and Maki had snuggled into each other, Maki wrapping two large hands around Harua’s waist, swallowing him whole almost. 

“Oh yes! Great idea! I still have some time on my break and I’m starving,” Harua squeaked, jumping up a bit too high and almost knocking Maki’s teeth out, but he doesn't flinch, probably gets enough of that outside on the field.

“Fuma you’re coming by the way,” Nicholas whispered, letting Euijoo forcefully lead him out of the bathroom with the other couple following.

Fuma was halfway out of the door before he realised his phone was missing. “Wait you guys go ahead! My phone is in there and now I actually have to pee,” He says with a chuckle, sniffling away the last of his feelings by returning the kiss Nicholas blew at him and retreating back into the bathroom, but before the door can even shut another figure looms up behind him.

“Nicholas, I’m coming I swear,” still laughing, but it isn't until he stops peering at the floor and looks up at himself in the mirror, that he spots Yudai standing behind him. Too close behind him.

Fuma spins around on his heels flawlessly and backs up into the sinks, eyes wide and frantic, figures, as if he’s the one that’s just been stabbed. 

Yudai smirks and Fuma shivers, trying to back up more as his long legs take small steps towards him.

“Ha,” He chortled, throwing his head back and clasping his hands together behind himself. “You should not be the one cowering away from me, should be the other way around,”

He mumbles the last part to himself however Fuma catches it, and also the way Yudai’s eyes drag slowly over his body, gay freak.

“You’re not cowering away because I’m not the one who hurt you, and you know it,”

Yudai shakes his head and meets his eyes again, that usual, fake timid glint gone and replaced by something much darker, playful and degrading, as if he thinks Fuma is beneath him.

“I actually don’t know it, because I don’t know who did it.”

“But you said-”

“-correct, I said it wasn’t you, but I can’t even remember, can’t think back to that night or it gives me a horrible itching rash and a panic attack. The doctors said it’s not worth it, even though i fully remember seeing my attacker’s face, they said it isn't worth it to try and remember, and if that I do it'll one day come to me naturally,”

“So you let me out of the centre because…?”

“Because it was boring, a story where my attacker is caught and gets sent to jail immediately? That’s not fun. What better way to use my advantage of surviving by making it up as I go along. I let you out, you get comfortable going back to your ‘old’ life, and when you’re finally reaching new peaks I pretend to remember and tell everybody that it was you.” Yudai finishes with a grin, satisfied in the way Fuma looks at him with horror.

“But then you’re lying. You can’t lie, I- I’ll just tell people you’re lying,”

“Oh my god Fuma, give it up, who in their right mind is going to believe you? I’m not lying, just twisting the truth, because technically it could actually be you, ya’know based on the fact I can’t remember,”

He leans forward with that line, and even though him and Fuma are the same height, it almost seems like he’s bending down to meet his eye level, and it’s fitting because Fuma has never felt so small before.

Not too long ago, when Yudai and Sunghoon had started dating, the latter was known as the Ice King and the former known as the Polar Cub. A rumour had spread, based on these groundless assigned personas alone, that Sunghoon was probably beating and abusing Yudai in the relationship, because every time he came to practice it’d be with random bruises and cuts. Fuma and the rest of the figure skaters knew it was just because of his falls and nipping himself on his skates, but everyone else seemed to believe it. Fuma now thinks it’s instead Yudai being the abuser between the two.

“Fuma, now that you are back, it’ll help me get back on track towards the winter Olympics coming up soon! I’ll give you enough time to train and believe you’re making it instead of me, based on the fact they can only send one person from our team, but if you do, miraculously get chosen, I let the cat out of the bag and they pack you and your small dick right to big boy jail.”

Fuma had dissociated to the point he could just hear Yudai’s voice, now only noticing the man had gone and peed and was now beside Fuma by the sinks, washing his hands and fixing up his jet black, sleek hair.

“Although, a part of me is glad that you’re back! Healthy competition and all. I even think we’re living on the same block of student accommodation this semester, maybe we’re put in the same exact flat, forced to live side by side? A bit romantic, no?” Yudai whispers, now close and personal, trapping Fuma’s body between his arms, his lips grazing Fuma’s ear.

When Fuma shivers Yudai giggles moving away before patting him on the shoulder.

“Can’t wait to see you out on the ice again tomorrow! Bye freak.” Yudai deadpans before swiftly, and ever so graciously exiting the bathroom while Fuma stands there in disbelief.

When he leaves, Yudai makes contact with Nicholas, Euijoo, Harua and Maki all standing around and chatting. Euijoo spots him leaving and the sly smirk Yudai shoots him, before realising something is up.

“Woah, what were you doing in that toilet Yudai,” Euijoo hisses, walking up to him with Nicholas following closely behind him.

“Um, not that it’s any of your business, but I was using the toilet? What? I can’t use the same one as Fuma for my protection?”

“I thought he didn’t do it?” Maki whispers to Harua.

“I-, he didn’t!” He answers, but doesn’t sound too sure.

“God whatever, I hope you didn’t say anything to him in there, he’s had enough trouble the past few months because of you as it is,”

Yudai becomes visibly ticked off on that, it was like watching an animal become aggressive at a feather dropping..

“Oh and I haven’t? I’m not gonna protect Fuma’s fragile little feelings, what I may or may not have said to him in there is nothing compared to what i’m dealing with physically.”

“He didn’t mean it like that,” Nicholas spoke.

Yudai ignores him and walks closer to Euijoo then, sticking out a strong long finger and poking him with it, “Watch it sword boy,” He growls, and turns to walk off.

Back in the toilet, Fuma is vomiting again.

Chapter Text

It’s two weeks until Fuma is actually on the ice again. It’s only early october and yet the campus was completely frozen over with a thin layer, specs of water clinging to the blades of dying grass out on the courts and the fields. Fuma wonders if Maki has to play in conditions like those. He himself has a full body of protection, new gloves and warm wear for his muscles, basically sweating underneath his clothes but it was better than having his already underused muscles straining during his exercises. He made it up the steps to the large door that led to the ice sports building, and stopped just in front of them to breathe in and give himself a mini pep talk. In there, he was going to interact with a bunch of people who had thrown him under the bus almost half a year ago, just pretending like they never said what they had and that there were no ill feelings. But Fuma didn’t know if he could pretend. Your entire team trying to get you sent to jail simply because they were shit at their sports wasn’t something easy to just let go. He figured he’d have to do it anyways, what better time than now?

He steps in through the hallway and hurries down through the cold towards the changing rooms. He was early enough that he didn't have to pass the never-ending whispers and stares, slipping through the new academic school year flyers lazily punctured into the notice boards all over the poorly painted walls in the school’s representative colours. One flyer was about a party, another was about a party also, but in a house, and when Fuma quickly read a different flyer as he strode past, it was again about another party. He forgets this school was also inhabiting students studying for one subject with no other extra-curricular talents. Fuma scrunched up his nose at the thought of only being good at reading books and taking exams, and before he could form the disgust on his face, he bumped into someone exiting the changing room as he entered. 

“Watch where you’re going dude,” He muttered, smirking as he took in the features of Fuma’s face, which was a stage of interactions he had begun to hate. He’d talk to someone he didn’t know or bump into someone gently and then have to watch as they realised that he was Fuma. He’d once even heard a group of alternative girls walk past him and call him the Japanese ‘Handigo’. He still doesn't know what that means.

“You bumped into me,” Fuma answered, trying his most monotone non-aggressive voice as to not strengthen his violence allegations. 

“Alright calm down, don’t go all Ghostface on me,” The boy snorted, passing by Fuma and making his way down the hall. He was going the wrong way but Fuma felt no need to correct who was obviously a diversity hire.

He sat down at his spot in the dressing room and opened his locker, a stack of notes falling out in differing pieces of colour, all folded multiple times. He set his bag down and picked up a neon blue one, unfolding delicately until he realised his fingers were trembling. 

You’re sick for what you did to Yudai

Fuma scrunched it up in his hand as he felt his eyes well with tears. His efforts to ignore everything were being torn down quicker than he imagined. He thought he’d give up and become overwhelmed maybe a few weeks in, not on the first day. Like self harm, he picked up another note.

You’re NOTHING and you needed to get rid of Yudai to feel better

Fuma picked up another.

It should’ve been you in that alley

And another.

I’m surprised Sunghoon hasn’t done to you what was done to his boyfriend

Fuma sniffed at that one, it made it sound as if Sunghoon had it in him to recreate what happened to Yudai. Again he wouldn’t be surprised, the man had this essence of nothing in his dark brown eyes. His overly thick eyebrows didn’t help the image either and Fuma was sure that mole of his was a spying device. 

Shaking his head, Fuma picked up all the opened and unopened notes and threw them in the trash, then opened a bottle of energy drink from his bag and poured it over all the paper, watching as it distorted and soaked up the liquid, and the ink of the pen bled until the words were black meaningless clots.

“I see you've got our group project,”

Fuma snapped his head over his shoulder to catch the glimpse of none other than Sunghoon standing in the doorway, leant against the frame.

“What do you want,” Fuma mumbled.

“Aw, Fuma, don’t be so cruel, that project took a while to make,”

Sunghoon strode over with his strangely long legs, also taking in the build of Fuma’s body, dark orbs taking in his figure and glinting with sheen, and the latter now thinks that maybe the couple just want him to be their third.

“You mean you probably paid a bunch of students to write heartfelt messages about how I'm evil, you’re a prince and Yudai is the damsel?” 

“Well when you put it like that it kinda sounds like the truth,” Sunghoon smiled, his eyes looking genuine before they flickered back to their original soullessness. 

“I don’t want you near Yudai at practice later on,” He begins, and Fuma rolls his eyes both internally and externally.

“I wasn’t even fucking planning on it.” Fuma grumbles, angrily slamming his locker shut and gaining heat in his face as he struggles with the stupid keys. His fingers are too big and the piece of metal is much too small, and he feels Sughoon’s eyes continue to burn into none other than Fuma’s ass. 

When he gets the door locked in place, he holds his head high and walks past Sunghoon in the door frame, pointedly and aggressively brushing his shoulder with his own, and as the latter was much bigger in muscle than Sunghoon was, of course it was satisfying to see the man falter at the force. 

How was this man meant to protect Yudai? Fuma could do a better job. Not that he was thinking about the possibility.

Fuma walked until he hit the carpeted corridor he knew all too well. Just beyond the small pair of swinging purple doors, was the what the school called the skaters’ bay, the small area with the benches, the vending machine, the water fountain and whatever necessities they needed were all there, and then down the ramp and through the metal hatch would be the ice rink itself, along with the 1000 viewing seats built to make the rink resemble a theatre. Fuma sometimes thought that the school had too much money.

As we walked he revised the journey onto the ice about 50 times, but when he actually got to the first obstacle, the purple doors, he felt that horrible feeling in his stomach. He peered through the grimy small windows and bit his lip as his eyes locked onto the soft features of Yudai’s face. His eyes as beady as ever, his skin just as soft and milk-like, and as usual, surrounded by people in awe of him. Patting his shoulders where his scars lay, and of course Fuma was the one to notice his winces and the shine of tears breaking through the barrier of his eyes. Fuma wasn't jealous of Yudai, but from time to time he always wondered what it would be like to live in his skin. His body, his face, that were considered perfect by so many different cultures and their subjective beauty standards, standards Yudai somehow managed to bend to centre himself. Yudai was always the centre of attention. 

Fuma walked in and vomited, just a little bit, into his mouth, as the room fell silent and too many pairs of eyes turned to look at him with caution. On the topic of Yudai, Fuma sometimes wished that he had his slender body, because his own bulky build, natural or pumped full of protein shakes and weight lifting sessions at the gym, intimidated more people than they liked to admit. Here he was seeing the evidence, because as he walked past golden boy and his harem, he noticed people subconsciously shrunk like a beta trying not to accidentally challenge the alpha male. Fuma from now on will think of it like that to stop the ache of loneliness in his chest.

He plunked his sports bag by a far bench, he sat and prayed conversations would resume as usual, when they didn't, he huffed and moved to find his blades he could spot from across the space, his heart beating as he walked up to the cubbies and noticed his name engraved into the metal plate above his shoes, had a shitty attempt at being scribbled out and erased. His blades however were untouched, now thanking the unspoken rule throughout the team that blades were more precious than a newborn baby, and damaging someone else’s is basically the equivalent of punching someone’s new born baby. The shoes were, however, collecting an alarming amount of dust. 

When he got back to his bench, he realised everyone had dispersed while his back was turned, now leaving him face to face with Yudai, and the back of a person Fuma didn’t recognise on a bench even further away. Fuma didn’t care about either of them. He sat back on the bench and pulled on his shoes, almost moaning at the slip and the cushion within the leather, resisting the urge to take off the blade protectors and run his delicate fingers across their sharpness. He’s done it countless times after school holidays and breaks, and has ended up with too many little scars all over his hands. He decided not to follow today because he didn't think blood anywhere near him after recent events was good for his reputation.

“Fuma?” Yudai calls delicately, looking up from where he straddled the bench he had claimed, peering innocently through his dark hair that had fallen over his face. Fuma used to the think he was horrifically manipulative all the way down to moulding his appearance, he now thinks that’s just what Yudai is - a ball of warmth and comfort.

Fuma sighed and turned towards him, trying to muster up his best ‘I’m bored.’ look.

“Yes?”

“Can’t wait for us to get out on the ice again today, genuinely, i missed us.” Yudai said quietly, but now Fuma was suspicious again. Not even two weeks ago Yudai had towered over him, basically threatening Fuma’s life and everything he ever loved. Now, here he was batting his long, lucious eyelashes with the most impressive ‘fuck me’ eyes Fuma had seen a dude do to him. He shook the thought and concluded he was probably just horny and jumping to conclusions on a dude that looked the most like a girl out of all men he’s interacted with. 

“Why are you so docile today, the second we get out on the ice you’re probably going to try and slit my throat with your skates,” Fuma mumbled, moving to face Yudai.

He giggled like a school girl in response and momentarily looked down at the floor in bliss. “Sunghoon fucked me real good this morning, that’s probably it. Get your fill before I turn back to normal though,” He spoke. The last few words definitely held some sort of warning. 

“That’s disgusting, I don't need to know that,” Fuma muttered bitterly, swirling an odd taste in his mouth around with his tongue, the pang in his chest sharper as he snatched a glance at Yudai trying to find his other glove.

Fuma opened his mouth up to speak again but jumped instead when a much younger skater bounced onto the empty bench space in front of him. He bore a smile and Fuma watched in confusion as a snaggle tooth poked through as mischievously as the eyes glinting on his face, thinning into that of a sly cat, waiting for Fuma to talk first.

“And who the fuck are you?”

“Oh! Right! I’m Yuma! I’m a freshman! And I want you to be my mentor!”

Fuma watched as Yudai blinked confusedly behind him. 

“No chance-” He stopped mid sentence realising this Yuma was the boy who made the ghostface joke just thirty minutes ago, and now here he was asking for him to be his mentor? Fuma couldn't tell if this was a win or another shitty jab at his personality.

“You know, how have you forgotten you made that joke outside of the locker room not too long ago,” He questions, leaning forward and lowering his voice just enough so that Yudai couldn't hear him.

Yuma’s face dropped and contorted into fear, violently shaking his head and holding up his palms to Fuma as if to surrender. “No I swear I hadn’t noticed that was you! I wouldn’t poke fun at you then ask you to do something for me without pay, genuinely the whole reason I asked you and not Mr. Nosy behind me is because of your accusations, whether you did it or not, I need someone tough to make my skating the next level and Mary Poppins isn’t going to help me do it.”

Fuma considered it, he didnt care enough nor was he offended enough to turn down whatever this was to be petty, and he would never admit it but being chosen over Yudai to do anything skate wise in the team was something out of the ordinary. He wasn’t going to pass this chance.

“Sure.” Fuma squeaks, suddenly feeling shy under Yudai’s strengthening gaze, slightly realising the way his face hardens as he pieces together the quiet overheard information from both Yuma and Fuma.

He stands up abruptly, visibly angry and Fuma ignored the way Yuma presents a beaming grin on his face as he talks Fuma’s ears off, but of course the latter isn’t listening, he’s too busy watching the way Yudai begins to tower over the pair as he straightens up. His outfit is hugging his body a bit too snugly, as if he wants Fuma to falter in his words and let him consume every piece of his mind. He would never admit it to Yudai, but it was working.

❄️

Out on the ice, Fuma is tentatively skating towards the crew with a young Yuma still talking as he follows behind. The elder would clock in and out of the conversation, picking up on how Yuma is apparently an insanely gifted child and was awarded early admission into not only the university but straight onto the team. Fuma then realised their team had too many skaters, and someone is bound to be getting cut not long from now. 

The conversations dwindle as Fuma and Yuma finally make their way at the back of the bundle and face the instructor, Yuma’s rambling quieting to a small mew as none other than Yudai and Sunghoon turn to give him a sharp look.

Their new coach is somebody Fuma had been dying to meet since he was young, he too a figure skater that had one too many medals and championships to count, but unfortunately was taken out of the game right before the olympics,  because somehow a barbell had fallen and landed right on his left shin. Breaking the bone immediately and landing him with permanent injury. Of course there were campaigns to uncover the real reason his leg was so injured, only for it to be disclosed that he’d had prior injuries that went unchecked, and all of those factors together basically led to his leg completely giving up.

Fuma realises that Yudai has yet again another chance at being class pet, his story now strangely similar to the new coach’s, and Fuma didnt plan to suck up but he also didn't plan on acting like he didnt care either.

Lee Taemin. Soon Fuma will be his first born son.

Taemin began with taking out a piece of paper from his back pocket while leaving the rest of the team to look amongst themselves in confusion. Usually they’d start with drills or harder skills after a long break or with a new coach, here he was wasting practice time fumbling with dirty paper.

“I want to spice up our practice!” He declares, dark eyes settling on each of them, they all began to fidget when it was their time to receive his hard gaze.

“I’ve heard rumours about happenings amongst this team, one of you suffered a brutal attack, and another was accused of doing it. I know this would bring a division between you all, but we know that’s not ideal when we’re trying to build a winning team of athletes that need to trust and depend on each other. So for now, you will have a partner, or a buddy. I’m going to read out your partnerings now.”

Fuma is completely in shock, heart beating as he anticipates who he’s stuck with for an uncertain amount of time. He admires however, how Taemin made no effort to ask the team how they felt about the arrangements.

He calls out the names and Fuma watches as the men around him high five and playfully punch each other as they get announced as partners. When Yuma is called, he lets go from where he was clinging to Fuma’s bicep (he hadn’t even realised) juts out his bottom lip and pretends to cry as he’s paired with Sion.

Fuma is paired with Yudai