This will make Evan happy, Grey thinks as they stare at themself in the mirror. They’re still not used to looking into a mirror, and watching their reflection move for long periods of time is still deeply unsettling. But they know for a fact that Evan loves to stare at himself in the narrow mirror of the packhouse bathroom. His own appearance is one of the few things that Grey knows Evan likes for sure. It’s what makes them so sure that he will like this.
He was trying to steal shirts like this not so long ago, and the angular hole in the neck of them had only been half the size of this one. They’ve been carefully sheering more and more of it away, checking how it looks in the mirror with every new cut. By now, Grey has managed to cut a perfect smooth v that runs all the way from the collar of the shirt to their naval. If they go any further, they’ll risk cutting it fully in half.It will show off a lot of Evan’s chest and stomach. Grey’s never actually seen Evan in clothing this revealing but something, maybe instinct, tells them that he will in the warmer months. It’s a pretty shirt, soft and green, made of warm fabric. There’s only a little bit of dirt on it. They leave it carefully folded and tucked beneath Evan’s pillow so that no one will see it and try to take it from him.
sorry this is just a spinning out au, i don’t make the rules.
the blackrock figure skating club was more ruthless than it had any business being. i mean, it did produce some of the best figure skating champions in the midwest; cold weather makes for colder people and the best skaters on the ice.
and clover oxendine was the best. was being the operative word here.
once the darling of the figure skating world: junior solo champion, junior silver pairs, and a win at skate canada and hong kong once she was eighteen, she suffered a devastating fall at the olympics following the death of her sister, violet. her ankle was shattered, and that was a death sentence for most skaters.
her pairs partner and former lover, raine jones, wasn’t particularly enthused either. he’d have to find someone else to pair with for the next olympic push and he’d been training with clover for most of their lives.
some, however, were happy about the fall. one less skater on the ice meant one less person to compete against come regionals in helena. so clover left, she moved to missoula to work with a physical therapist and thought she’d never see the ice again except in her dreams.
two years pass away from the blackrock team, everyone has all but forgotten clover oxendine and clover oxendine has been working as a waitress at a run down diner when she gets a particularly interesting patron.
“you skate anymore?” sam mehta asks over his third slice of pie. of course, she knew he’d recognize her. he was one of the best when she was skating in juniors; it’d been all over the forums when he became a coach.
“no.” and clover feels almost bullish for throwing that back in his face. “bum ankle. bum life. i’m too old to catch any glory, why waste the money?”
sam snorts. “i’d have thought you’d miss it.” he sighs and pulls out a wad of bills. “you know, raine jones has a new partner.”
“and?” she watches his movements closely.
“and, it’s some asshole out of waco. pampered princess, can’t take direction to save her life.” he holds out the bills to clover with an earnest glance.
clover eyes the bills, but takes them after a moment. “why should i care?”
sam rises with some effort and blows air through his nose. “because i hate having her around the rink. she’s a nuisance. but to knock them out of first place, i need a new pair. diego’s crew won’t go lightly.”
clover pauses in counting the money and looks at him, craning her neck to see his full height. “i won’t compete as a pair.”
sam’s expression doesn’t change. “you’ll lose as a solo. nat and lola have that side locked up. the only pair that can rival raine is the one i make; there’s no way teddy and milo can catch up, or laurel and romeo. it’s just you.”
she leans back out of sam’s sphere of personal contact for a moment and shoves the cash in her apron, sucking on her teeth as she thinks. “i haven’t trained in two years.”
sam waits patiently though the hesitance, but he grins when she accepts. “you’ve got me, and mar.”
her brows draw together. “didn’t mar– sorr,y but didn’t she quit when her pairs partner like– you know– died?”
his jaw goes slack. “she’s back in it. just as a choreographer. she’ll keep you in top shape.”
thoughts swirl around her head as she comes to terms with the decision she’s made. the rink, the ice– she’d get to lace up skates again.
“i’ll see you back in blackrock in a week,” sam said, a light smile on his face.
“wait-!” clover reaches out a hand to grab his wrist. “you didn’t tell me who my partner will be.”
sam stands, his stance relaxed. “i thought that was obvious. it’s evan.”
clover’s eyes go wide in surprise. the golden goose, thought to be missing for years. the youngest person to ever snag a solo gold medal.
[ lighter ] my muse pulls out a lighter and lights it for your muse to use to light their cigarette ——————— FLASHBACK
BABA where are you samir? come home NOW. HELLO? ANSWER YOUR PHONE
It was a small town, they could have found him if they really wanted to.
The last thing he wanted was to go home and sit in silence, just because it made them feel better to know where he was. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t the best idea to fuck off for three days without notice, but it never did feel right, asking them for any kind of permission.
It felt much better to just… sit. Sit and watch.
He wasn’t sure whose basement it was, but he was among friends that didn’t always want to talk about home (which no one was ever invited to) or school (which he was failing). If he could just maintain a comfortable buzz that kept his mind from racing and his anxiety at bay, he could be happy, or at least something close to that.
He fumbled with a box of cigarettes he’d nicked from someone’s bathroom in his travels because it was easier than figuring out what to do with his hands when there wasn’t a drink in one of them.
Sam, go smoke outside. My mom hates the smell.
He didn’t remember how he got there, but the sting of cold air on his face once he made it outside woke him up and made him realize he wasn’t alone.
“You’re Evan, right?” There’s no telling how he could remember the name, but he recognized the kid, who was only a few years younger, and definitely wasn’t hanging out much inside. Sam could picture him sitting over the piano at the local church, which Sam, being not particularly religious, himself, had little reason being at, other than the Holiday masses being one of the few things to do around Blackrock in the dead of winter.
“You want a cigarette?” He asked, and offered the semi-crushed box for Evan to pluck one out. It shook lightly as he held it. His fault for forgetting his coat inside. He tucked the box in his pants pocket and lit his cigarette.
“Oh, sorry. Here.” Sam held out his lighter and waited for the other to lean into the flame.
“Don’t worry, it kind of sucks in there. You’re not missing much.”
his mind splutters for a minute, or wait maybe that was actually him spluttering. he blinks his eyes slowly at evan as if that’s going to make the whole thing feel better. this is not what he expected when he agreed to this game in the first place. “why-” he starts and stops again. “isn’t diego like your dad?”
he takes another large swig of beer. “i think i liked you better when you were eating dirt.”
"An imaginative man is apt to see, in his life, the story of his life; and is thereby led to conduct himself in such a manner as to make a good story of it, rather than a good life."
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