as a writer, itâs very important that you know this: whenever you tell yourself âthis will only be one-chapter-longâ that is a lie. your brain is lying to you. it wonât, in fact, be just a short one-shot
Guan Shan wakes up in his childhood bedroom with a headache, after maybe four hours of sleep. He didnât even drink yesterday, neither did his parents. Itâs just that the bedsheets are tucked too tight and this bedroom simply isnât really his anymore although it has been kept almost as he left it years ago."
"Itâs sizzling hot today, and it will be at least until the end of the week.Â
To make their meal more bearable, the restaurant owner decides to pull the canopy over the patio. Guan Shan gets up from his plastic stool before he is asked to give a hand to the small old man. Once itâs done, he sits down at the table and his dad, sitting across from him, thanks them for the extra shade.Â
âAlways helpful having a tall guy around,â dad says.
The old man smiles back at him in agreement and heads inside.
âIâm not that tall,â Guan Shan retorts, digging back into his food. A bit taller than average, maybe, but heâs seen worse. Senior citizens just like him, for some reason. Itâs a thing. Thereâs always some little grandma asking him to pick stuff from the high shelves for her when he goes grocery shopping. He used to think having that many visible tattoos would scare most people away. Little grandmas donât give a fuck."
@synthsamuri and I have been working on a new fic since around February... I'm so excited I can't keep it secret anymore and decided to share a little preview. We're probably gonna post it once it's completed and we're currently at chapter 4, expecting it to be around 10 maybe (probably more).
Working title "Tianshan on ice" lmao
Enjoy
Chapter One
Ice sprayed in a sharp arc as Guan Shan drove down the rink, cutting tight crossovers through the cones. The puck stayed glued to his stick, tapping back and forth in controlled rhythm as he shifted his weight from edge to edge. Steel hissed against ice.
He rounded the final cone hard, pivoted, and snapped a wrist shot high glove side. The puck cracked against the back netting.
Good, but not good enough.
He glided past the crease and coasted toward the boards, chest heaving. Sweat burned beneath his helmet despite the cold. When he ripped it off, steam curled faintly in the frigid air.
Heâd been out here for hours now and his ankles throbbed inside the rigid boots. His core felt like it had been wrung out. He leaned over his stick at the boards and reached for his water bottle on the bench. It slipped from his shaking hands and clattered to the rubber mat.
âFuck.â
He shoved his gloves off and dropped onto the bench, yanking at his laces with numb fingers. Relief came slow as he loosened them, blood rushing back into his feet.
The rink was a disaster with cones scattered and pucks everywhere. Heâd clean it up eventually. Right now he just needed to be exhausted. Needed his muscles too tired to feel anything else. It had been a week since the suspension. Benched, and just as the season had started at that. He had never felt so humiliated.Â
He hadnât started the fight, but he sure had finished it. Finished it with blood on the ice and someone missing a tooth, or several of them. Apparently that had been too much.Â
Guan Shan still couldnât shake the anger and betrayal he felt. His team was supposed to have his back, his coach was supposed to have his back. The other player was obviously pushing the limits and the referee wasnât doing shit about it. And he definitely didn't like it when Guan Shan called him out on it.Â
Guan Shan could handle the shit talk, that was nothing new, but that asshole just had to go take it further.
âUnsportsmanlike conduct,â his coach had said as he sat him down with the ice pack.
Unbelievable.Â
How else was he supposed to react after he got smacked in the face with a hockey stick? Just let them get away with that? He hadnât been able to see out of his left eye for two days after. Only just recently had the swelling started to come down. The asshole got what was coming to him. He just wished it wasnât at the cost of his own season.
âOpen skate is at ten, Red!â a voice called from behind him.
Guan Shan glanced over his shoulder. Yao Bin stood near the gate, arms folded. The rink manager was a retired figure skating coach whoâd taken a strange liking to him over the years. He let Guan Shan come in early on weekendsâsometimes even stay after hoursâas long as he helped clean up.
âGot it, boss,â Guan Shan called back.
He bent to retighten his laces, hauling them snug through the top eyelets and double-knotting hard. Then he pushed to his feet and corralled the scattered pucks into a pile with the toe of his blade, stacking the cones near the boards before the Zamboni came out.
The resurfacer rumbled onto the ice, blade grinding low as it shaved away the torn-up surface. A thin sheen of hot water trailed behind it, smoothing over gouges and cuts like nothing had ever happened. Guan Shan watched it work, glaring without realizing it.Â
âWhatâs with the face?â
Guan Shan looked up to see the old coach looking down at him, furrowed brows and all.Â
âNothing, just waiting for the ice.â
The old man sighed and sat down next to him. âPracticing yourself to death isnât going to make you any less suspended.âÂ
Guan Shan didnât look at him. âI said I wasnât interested in talking about it, old man.â
Yao Bin exhaled in exasperation, then pushed himself back up. âFine. Have it your way, kid.âÂ
Guan Shan rolled his eyes and stood to stretch. He piled up his helmet and gear. He was done with pucks and pads for the day. Now he just wanted to cool down before heading home.Â
As soon as the ice was ready, Guan Shan stepped through the gate. He started slow this timeâlong C-cuts down the red line, deep inside edges around the faceoff circle, tight pivots at the blue line. Drills heâd been doing since he was eight. His body knew them better than it knew anything else. They were grounding.
People began filtering in for open skate, blades clicking against the rubber mats, chatter echoing under the high ceiling. Guan Shan barely noticed, zeroed in on the movements and the rage simmering beneath it all.
Heâd only been back on the ice a short while when someone cut cleanly into his path.
Guan Shan jerked to a stop, spraying ice. âWatch where youâre fucking goingââ Guan Shan looked up and scowled. He fucking Tian. Obnoxiously tall. Infuriatingly composed. A figure skater, of course, and a good one at that.
âThis is open skate,â Guan Shan snapped. âNot ballet rehearsal.â
He Tian looked down at him and tilted his head, assessing him. âYou have good edges.â
âWhat?â
He Tian pushed off in a slow circle around him, never taking his eyes off him.
âWhat the hell are you doing?â Guan Shan pivoted sharply to keep him in front of him.
âYou lean too hard into your outside edge when you pivot,â He Tian said mildly. âBut your balance recovery is fast. Strong core control. As expected of a hockey player on your level.â
Guan Shan stared up at him like he was speaking another language.
âYou⊠look light enough to lift,â he said, sounding almost a little surprised.
âExcuse me?â Guan Shan barked. âNo one is fucking lifting me.â
âWhy not? You might actually have fun.â He Tian said pleasantly. âMaybe even loosen up a bit.â
âFuck off!â Guan Shan yelled. He turned to skate away but didnât make it two strides before a gloved hand caught his.
He Tian stepped in close, shifting his weight smoothly onto his inside edge and guiding Guan Shan into the rotation.
The next thing Guan Shan knew the room was spinning. Before he could respond, his instincts kicked in. His core tightened and his knees bent, shifting his weight to try and control the movement. Somehow instead of stumbling, he managed to complete the rotation, He Tianâs hands guiding him through it.Â
They came to a stop facing each other, still holding hands.
Guan Shan blinked. âWhaâwait, whatââ The whole interaction was so ridiculous and unexpected he didnât even know how to react.
He Tian nodded once, satisfied. âYup. Youâll do great. And even better, we both know youâre already free.âÂ
âWhat the fuck!â he snapped, yanking back his hand. âTry that again and Iâll send you into the boards! Then weâll both be out for the season.â He pushed off hard, skating away.
Behind him, He Tian just grinned. Heâd found his mark.
