âż TETSUSTATION â 2021 ; do not repost, translate, share without permission, or recycle my writing & layouts. this blog does not hesitate to hardblock in that instance!
synopsis :: erenâs partner is out on injury, or so youâve heard from across the ice. itâs a shame, considering the fact that they were an award winning pair. for that reason alone, youâre not entirely sure how to react when youâre recruited as her replacement. eren does, howeverâand the emotion is anything but positive.
word count :: 3.4k
genre :: modern!au, figure skating!au, kind of e2l, kind of hurt/comfort
warnings :: swearing
notes :: i've been working on this for like two years now on and off so i'm posting the first halfâthere's more than this but I just want to gauge if this is something you guys are actually interested in. no better time than the present!
Where do you belong? That phrase has never been anything but foolish rhetoric to you, and at its core, easy to answerâno where, because no match is made in heaven, no shoe has ever been crafted for your foot, and your fate is nowhere near predetermined. That being said, the closest place you could rule as such is on the cool, shaved ice.Â
Although right now, you wish to be anywhere but. Colliding with the sleet in a rather dramatic manner, you watch your useless limbs as you glide backwardsâgiving into gravity until your figure makes a full stop. Perhaps itâs time to throw in the towel after all, you flop onto your back and let the condensation soak your sweater.
âWhat do you think you're doing?â The exhaustion drips from his tongue, and yet he refuses to drop.
âNapping,â You remark sarcasticallyâclearly conscious. From a distance, you can hear the scratch of his skates as he glides over.
When coming to a stop, he makes a point of pivoting his feet to send loose snow directly into your face. Sputtering, you sit upâalbeit, struggling slightly due to the lack of grip. Heâs staring down at you, gloved hand on his hip, he strangely resembles your mother whenever she scolds you for something utterly ridiculous.Â
Frankly, you have no interest in speaking first, and he catches onto that fact. He releases a sigh that holds the weight of a day's work, before looking around the empty rink, and back down to you.Â
âIs this your way of telling me you're giving up?âÂ
You scoff, âThe rink closes in forty minutes, Eren.â Gesturing to the red, ten foot clock behind him, masked as a scoreboard, âI think this matter might be beyond us.âÂ
And he rolls his eyes at you, the same way that makes your jaw crick uncomfortably. The green looks dull under the fluorescents, but piercing, nonetheless. Sinking to the floor with a steady knee, he leans into you, and as a result you lean back half-heartedly, âAs soon the rink opens tomorrow, weâre trying again.â
You go to speak, retort that overworking yourselves would do no good, but as he skates away, he turns around and consequently halts your hesitant tongue, âNo excuses!â With that, heâs gone. Hopping off the ice and into the locker rooms.
Flopping back down, you letting the chill soothe your aching calves, you wonder how persistent heâs going to be. Mentally, you curse Jean for convincing you to do this, but then againâif anyoneâs going to push you to do your best it's him (and as reluctant as you are to admit it, so is Eren).Â
A weak groan slips your lips as you use the energy you have left to curve your spine into an upwards position. In front of you, your legs are spread apart as you stretchâbut it only sends the shooting pain back up to your hamstrings. These bruises might not ever go away, but a bath might make them feel betterâor so you hope.
Mikasa Ackerman broke her ankle a week and a half ago, two weeks from tomorrow. When you heard the news while tying the laces on your skates, you scoffed, âPoor Erenâthere goes their qualifier.â It was a little apathetic, you can admit that much now, yet the world loves to play its cruel hand with you because soon enough your own partner had offered you up as bait in her place.
ââSheâs great, really! Adaptable and flexible.â Jean argued, pushing you forward by the shoulders to a miffed Eren, âThe two of us arenât going to make it this year, not with our fiasco of a choreographerâbut you two, together? I can see the headlines already, man. Trust me.â A piece of meat up for auction, was the only way you could describe how you felt.
âJean, quit it.â You turned your head to the side, and whispered through gritted teeth (as if Eren wasnât right there, and couldnât clearly hear the words as they left your mouth).Â
âNo. If you win with him itâll be good coverage for the both of us.â Meanwhile, the man staring you down looked more disinterested by the second, most likely not interested in taking a fresh Senior skater in to replace his partner, two months before qualifiers. Honestly, you werenât too sure why Jean tried so hard in the first place, it was a matter for your managers and sponsors.Â
Still, he didnât let up, âIf you win this with her, you and Mikasa can take the win to the finals,â you wondered if he fact-checked that, most likely not. âA couple did it in the â80s, if you have a viable reason there's a loophole to switch partners between the competitions, so long as the male partner remains consistent.â He explained, rather adamantly.Â
Eren nodded, not entirely convincedâyet, he didnât not turn it down completely. Candidly, you werenât sure which outcome you preferred. Yes, it would be a great opportunity, but then again, you werenât entirely sure you could reach the bar set high by the skating enigma of Mikasa Ackerman. Erenâs death glare told you, you couldnâtâbut Jeanâs shook your shoulders so vigorously your vision got cloudy.Â
âIâll think about it,â Is all Eren said, and he did.Â
The next day, Eren took you on as his partner, for the sole reason that he hates losing, especially after putting so much work into this program. Still, he vaguely insults your talent in comparison to his usual partner, which erupts a fire underneath your skating skirt.Â
As the days pass, Eren only expects more of you, and you canât blame him. Itâs going well, but not as well as it wouldâve gone with Mikasa. His coach notices, and so does the choreographerâstill you donât let up, not that he lets you, anyways.Â
The connection that Eren and Mikasa have is almost telepathic. In all the times that youâve watched them practice in your shared rink, not once have you heard them speak to each other on the ice. They communicate through eye contact, the occasional nod of a pointed chinâany verbal communication they do is reserved for behind closed doors.
Suspicion is what it arouses in you, but their scores are near perfect in the eyes of all the judges in the province, so there is no grounds to protrude on their methods. Yet, you never expect to take her place, to be forced to cooperate with the King of angry glances, meant to speak a thousand words.Â
Thatâs why this is so difficult for you, or at least, thatâs the conclusion youâve come to. Mikasa has come to watch you practice, made notes on your technique and passed a sheet of crumpled note-paper to you after your daily practice, but not enough to make a dent in the supposedly flawless instruction of hisânow yourâcoach.Â
Itâs difficult, and frankly, you miss the days where people just said what they meant. Jean was never like this, you canât help but think. However, this isnât Jean, and in a way you're happy it isnât. An irritating challenge is a challenge nonetheless, and youâll be damned if Eren Yeager blames his lost ticket to finals on you.
Especially after the number of bruises youâve acquired, from all the times heâs dropped you.
Deep down, you believe there is a reason why Jean put you up for this program (aside from Mikasaâs obvious injury). Despite Erenâs reserved nature of fending for himself in the rink, the set was for the most part, separated. A collection moves that we're paralleled, adjacent to one another, instead of moves that lie in the hands of both.
That is, except for three instances within the seven minutes in which the classical hymn plays. These are virtually unavoidable. While you can perfect your own moves alone, and mirror Erenâs stature down to a âT,â thereâs only so much you can do for yourself when heâs lifting you up with a single hand, palm nearly shaking against his own.Â
Itâs not that you donât trust Erenâalthough, it's kind of a stretch to say that you doâthe problem at hand is that he doesnât trust you, because you're not Mikasa and you canât hold your own against the stiffness of his locked elbows. Or at least, youâve explained that much to Jean and Sasha on the benches outside of the rink, while adjusting your shoes with vigor.Â
âItâs gonna be a process to adjust to each other.â Your former partner reasons, stretching out the blades of his shoulders, âThe jumps are going to take a while, I donât suggest pushing itâor youâll seriously get hurt.âÂ
His vague allude to Mikasa doesnât slip your mind, but you give Eren the benefit of the doubt, thereâs no way he actually would wish malice upon his partner of over a decade. You, however, are unfamiliar to him, heâs not used to your agility, and you're not used to his rigidity. Thereâs a frozen sea separating your techniques, but Jean is right, adjustment is everything.
âYou should talk to him,â Sasha suggests, standing against the glass and watching Niccolo practice his triple axel for the umph time, âIf heâs too stiff, of course youâre going to fall.â A hiss slips from her lips as the blonde in the rink misses his landing, wiping out not-so-gracefully.Â
A yank of the wrist and the sound of strained laces is music to your ears, âI feel like everything I tell him goes in one ear and out the other.â You adjust, âHeâs convinced his way is the only way, heâll listen to me but the second it seems unnatural to him he shifts back to what heâs used to.âÂ
Standing up, you grunt, âWhen is he going to learn Iâm not Mikasa?â Itâs a bitter fallacy on your lips, but aggressive nonetheless. It could even pass as a growl, if you listen closely. However, when you hear the door open and close, and watch Eren walk past the bench you're standing in front of with a stoic expressionâyou hope itâs meek and unintelligible through the glass doors.Â
Behind him is Erenâs coachâyour coachâyou stand a little straighter. Levi Ackerman is small, and not very menacing from afar, but he has the bite of a bark and the skills of a lion. In your core, you fear him, but out of respect more than anything else. The coach you and Jean shared was much nicer, but then again, you and him werenât up for finals, now were you?Â
âStretch out, and on the ice in twenty.â He snaps a pointer finger to the rink where Niccolo is currently stepping out defeatedly, âWeâre doing the lifts again today.âÂ
The bruise on your hip from yesterday aches at the mention, but alas, your work is cut out for you. Jeans sends a half hearted condolence your way, already marking up how much ice youâll need for your bath tonight to soothe the pain. Stepping onto the ice is anything but unfamiliar, but today it feels distantâsomehow, the momentary skate to Eren feels grueling as he waits for you with crossed arms.
âPlay the track!â Levi yells elsewhere, where someone is waiting from the booth above the rink, âI want to see how much ground you covered without me.âÂ
The melody is crisp, and echoes through the rink with a boom. Sometimes you canât help but like a bat in a cave, this climate isnât welcoming to the typical personâbut youâve become adept at it after so many years that you can navigate it like the back of your hand. The ice is where you live and breathe, fly to the best of your capability against the push of gravity. Itâs freedom, but at what cost?Â
Eren nods you off, to which you follow him in a series of turns, he glides and you mimic, the two of you look as if you're attached by an invisible string that strains each time the direction of your skates change. The ice comes up in flakes of snow, and they sting your nasal cavity as you take a deep breath in, readying yourself for the upcoming lift. Â
Levi is standing against the rink, his skates perpendicular to sustain balance, and his arms crossed in premeditated judgment. Youâre painfully aware of the fact that he doesnât expect much from either of you, the condescension of your âadjustment phaseâ still at the forefront of your mind. Still, heâs there to guide you, you keep going.
âStart crouching! Give him room for the lift!âÂ
A good eye is what Levi has, he can tell youâre milliseconds out of sync, and that's all it takes to send you belly up to the unforgiving ice. Crouching, you make a straight line to Erenâhis eyes donât give you the confidence you need to latch onto his palms and lift yourself, but itâs too late to stop.Â
Grasping his palm flat in yours, fingers outstretched and face one another, your grip and jumpâto which Eren lifts you over his shoulder. The only thing holding you up is the grip on his hand, and heâs barely paying any attention to it, already attempting to move away from the spot in which you hopped from.
It becomes increasingly difficult to keep your legs still, as he moves quickly across the iceâyou can feel your forearms shake slightly, and that's all it takes to come tumbling down.Â
Eren barely has enough time to recapture your hand, before you slip behind him and onto the ice with what might as well be a splat. The blades of your skates clang, and you can feel a multitude of eyes stare down your splayed figure. Only taking a moment to take back your stolen breath, you sit up and brush off.Â
Never is Eren entirely apathetic, as he skates over and leans down to your eye level, where you're just barely holding yourself up by the frozen heel of your hands, âAre you alright?â His eyes flick downward, falling on your hip, âSame spot as yesterday,â he looks up again, âDoes it hurt?â
No shit, you think, âCourse it hurts.
The nature of his question is polite, but you can tell by the way his hand is twitching that it wasnât an invitation to restâinstead, heâs eager for you to get back up, refusing to be stopped by something as measly as a fall. Nodding, you grab his hand and hoist yourself back up.Â
âMy bad,â Is all you shout to the room.Â
âGood.â Levi affirms, âLetâs keep moving.âÂ
The empathy that Eren shows you the first couple of times you fall dissipates as the day goes on. With each flop on ice, he becomes more irritatedâclearly frustrated with evident roadblock youâve seem to have placed in his otherwise âperfect program.â When stepping off the rink, he doesnât give you a goodbye.Â
Itâs grueling on you, honestly it is. To come in everyday and take his attitude along with Leviâs insistence on perfection. Perfection goes both ways, you believe, and Eren is hardly upholding his end of that promise. The only comfort you find on the rink is Levi, though he can only do so much for you, and youâre not sure if his mild surges of pity are endearing or degrading.Â
Frankly, you canât remember the last time you had this many bruises, up down the sides of your legs and alone the cranes of your pelvic bone. The locker room is the last place you want to be, although for the first time in a while you find yourself smiling upon entering,
âLong time no see.âÂ
Jean is propped against the lockers, Niccolo is next to him motioning about this and that while holding up a blunt skate. âYouâre one to talk!âÂ
 You watch him stand up straight, striding towards you, but is cut off by Sasha who is closer by just a couple feetâhaving been seated on the bench untying skates of her own. Sheâs quick to come hug you, nearly knocking you off your feet, but itâs the last tumble you're worried about taking today and quickly reciprocate her affections.Â
Once your autonomy was returned to you, you walked over the bench and threw a leg over the other end so that you were straddledâa stretch that always made you feel comfortable enough to sit for long periods of time. It all felt too familiarâthe red plastic beneath you, and the friendship you seem to have neglected over the past couple of weeksâwhile training with Eren, he became your life, and the rest faded to fuzz and scratched ice.Â
They smiled down at you like you were the face of the hour, an enigma, it wasnât praise but from the people who established you at this rinkâyou couldn't help but feel some sense of gratitude as they spared you their silent approval.
âSo,â Jean started, âHow is training with Yeager?âÂ
The smile you wore dissipated to crumbs of false pride when you recalled just how awful you truly feltâhow demeaned you felt beside Eren who stood tall despite his own shortcomings. And you hated how noticeable it all was, how your momentary joy fleeted and the exhaustion in your shoulders hit you like the initial fall, your shoulders slouching as you looked anywhere other than directly into their eyes.Â
âAwful,â was all you said, âItâs awful.âÂ
Ever distasteful towards the awkwardness of competition Niccolo cleared the air with a clap, âThatâs Yeager for you, heâs a real stiff one.âÂ
âYou're telling me, heâs got a real stick up his ass. Justâshoupâright up there.â To which Jean had accompanied with a rather lewd hand gesture.Â
This was news to youâyes, you had heard tales of Eren being a diva to some extent, but he was practically a god amongst others at this rink and in all the competition magazines. Him and Mikasa owned the regionâs senior competition stats, it was impossible that sleazy locker room talk was enough to dethrone him of that.
Sasha, always blunt in her sentiments, places a hand on your own, âHeâs nothing but a name without Mikasa, donât take it to heartâdo your best.â
Jean picks it up, âWe recommended you for a reason, youâre the best of us without all the unnecessary press.âÂ
âPlus you challenge Yeager,â Niccolo chimes, âNo one challengeâs Yeager.âÂ
âNo one challenges him because heâs a fucking prick,â Jean couldnât seem to help but blurt.Â
His eyes swell like saucers when the locker room door hits the opposite wall with a slam, and none other than the subject-of-conversation himself briskly walks past you and Sasha, only to open his own locker with another slam. The room falls painfully silent, and Jean opens his mouth to speak only to subsequently close itâas rectifying the situation is really beyond him at this point.
Eren manhandles his duffle bag, slinging it over his shoulder. When he closes the locker he looks around the room, scanning for the eye contact that no one will make with him. He huffs, and mumbles something that vaguely resembles a bitter affirmation that you were indeed discussing him. Knowing the walls and the echo of the place better than anyone, it was unlikely he missed the comment that brought the conversation to a halt. He stormed out in the same fashion in which he came, and you were all left to your devices.Â
Niccolo kicked Jean for his ignorance, to which he took with nothing more than a grimace. Sasha turned to you again, the color had faded from your face, and she didnât quite have the words to console you, so she only said, âAt least it wasnât you.â
Though, it might have well been. Jean was your partner before you were Erenâs, just like he was bonded to Mikasa in such an all consuming way, something similar could be said about you and Jean. Thus, his sentiments were yours and vice versa.Â
Yes, you missed your friends dearly, and for a moment it did feel nice to joke with them. Although, you knew that the consequences of such were only going to make practice that much more difficult for you tomorrow. Grabbing your belongings half heartedly, you said your salutations. The smile that sat on your face didnât quite come back for the rest of the night.
[ TO BE CONTINUED ]
âż TETSUSTATION â 2023; do not repost, translate, share without permission, or recycle my writing & layouts. this blog does not hesitate to hardblock in that instance!
synopsis :: erenâs partner is out on injury, or so youâve heard from across the ice. itâs a shame, considering the fact that they were an award winning pair. for that reason alone, youâre not entirely sure how to react when youâre recruited as her replacement. eren does, howeverâand the emotion is anything but positive.
word count :: 3.4k
genre :: modern!au, figure skating!au, kind of e2l, kind of hurt/comfort
warnings :: swearing
notes :: i've been working on this for like two years now on and off so i'm posting the first halfâthere's more than this but I just want to gauge if this is something you guys are actually interested in. no better time than the present!
Where do you belong? That phrase has never been anything but foolish rhetoric to you, and at its core, easy to answerâno where, because no match is made in heaven, no shoe has ever been crafted for your foot, and your fate is nowhere near predetermined. That being said, the closest place you could rule as such is on the cool, shaved ice.Â
Although right now, you wish to be anywhere but. Colliding with the sleet in a rather dramatic manner, you watch your useless limbs as you glide backwardsâgiving into gravity until your figure makes a full stop. Perhaps itâs time to throw in the towel after all, you flop onto your back and let the condensation soak your sweater.
âWhat do you think you're doing?â The exhaustion drips from his tongue, and yet he refuses to drop.
âNapping,â You remark sarcasticallyâclearly conscious. From a distance, you can hear the scratch of his skates as he glides over.
When coming to a stop, he makes a point of pivoting his feet to send loose snow directly into your face. Sputtering, you sit upâalbeit, struggling slightly due to the lack of grip. Heâs staring down at you, gloved hand on his hip, he strangely resembles your mother whenever she scolds you for something utterly ridiculous.Â
Frankly, you have no interest in speaking first, and he catches onto that fact. He releases a sigh that holds the weight of a day's work, before looking around the empty rink, and back down to you.Â
âIs this your way of telling me you're giving up?âÂ
You scoff, âThe rink closes in forty minutes, Eren.â Gesturing to the red, ten foot clock behind him, masked as a scoreboard, âI think this matter might be beyond us.âÂ
And he rolls his eyes at you, the same way that makes your jaw crick uncomfortably. The green looks dull under the fluorescents, but piercing, nonetheless. Sinking to the floor with a steady knee, he leans into you, and as a result you lean back half-heartedly, âAs soon the rink opens tomorrow, weâre trying again.â
You go to speak, retort that overworking yourselves would do no good, but as he skates away, he turns around and consequently halts your hesitant tongue, âNo excuses!â With that, heâs gone. Hopping off the ice and into the locker rooms.
Flopping back down, you letting the chill soothe your aching calves, you wonder how persistent heâs going to be. Mentally, you curse Jean for convincing you to do this, but then againâif anyoneâs going to push you to do your best it's him (and as reluctant as you are to admit it, so is Eren).Â
A weak groan slips your lips as you use the energy you have left to curve your spine into an upwards position. In front of you, your legs are spread apart as you stretchâbut it only sends the shooting pain back up to your hamstrings. These bruises might not ever go away, but a bath might make them feel betterâor so you hope.
Mikasa Ackerman broke her ankle a week and a half ago, two weeks from tomorrow. When you heard the news while tying the laces on your skates, you scoffed, âPoor Erenâthere goes their qualifier.â It was a little apathetic, you can admit that much now, yet the world loves to play its cruel hand with you because soon enough your own partner had offered you up as bait in her place.
ââSheâs great, really! Adaptable and flexible.â Jean argued, pushing you forward by the shoulders to a miffed Eren, âThe two of us arenât going to make it this year, not with our fiasco of a choreographerâbut you two, together? I can see the headlines already, man. Trust me.â A piece of meat up for auction, was the only way you could describe how you felt.
âJean, quit it.â You turned your head to the side, and whispered through gritted teeth (as if Eren wasnât right there, and couldnât clearly hear the words as they left your mouth).Â
âNo. If you win with him itâll be good coverage for the both of us.â Meanwhile, the man staring you down looked more disinterested by the second, most likely not interested in taking a fresh Senior skater in to replace his partner, two months before qualifiers. Honestly, you werenât too sure why Jean tried so hard in the first place, it was a matter for your managers and sponsors.Â
Still, he didnât let up, âIf you win this with her, you and Mikasa can take the win to the finals,â you wondered if he fact-checked that, most likely not. âA couple did it in the â80s, if you have a viable reason there's a loophole to switch partners between the competitions, so long as the male partner remains consistent.â He explained, rather adamantly.Â
Eren nodded, not entirely convincedâyet, he didnât not turn it down completely. Candidly, you werenât sure which outcome you preferred. Yes, it would be a great opportunity, but then again, you werenât entirely sure you could reach the bar set high by the skating enigma of Mikasa Ackerman. Erenâs death glare told you, you couldnâtâbut Jeanâs shook your shoulders so vigorously your vision got cloudy.Â
âIâll think about it,â Is all Eren said, and he did.Â
The next day, Eren took you on as his partner, for the sole reason that he hates losing, especially after putting so much work into this program. Still, he vaguely insults your talent in comparison to his usual partner, which erupts a fire underneath your skating skirt.Â
As the days pass, Eren only expects more of you, and you canât blame him. Itâs going well, but not as well as it wouldâve gone with Mikasa. His coach notices, and so does the choreographerâstill you donât let up, not that he lets you, anyways.Â
The connection that Eren and Mikasa have is almost telepathic. In all the times that youâve watched them practice in your shared rink, not once have you heard them speak to each other on the ice. They communicate through eye contact, the occasional nod of a pointed chinâany verbal communication they do is reserved for behind closed doors.
Suspicion is what it arouses in you, but their scores are near perfect in the eyes of all the judges in the province, so there is no grounds to protrude on their methods. Yet, you never expect to take her place, to be forced to cooperate with the King of angry glances, meant to speak a thousand words.Â
Thatâs why this is so difficult for you, or at least, thatâs the conclusion youâve come to. Mikasa has come to watch you practice, made notes on your technique and passed a sheet of crumpled note-paper to you after your daily practice, but not enough to make a dent in the supposedly flawless instruction of hisânow yourâcoach.Â
Itâs difficult, and frankly, you miss the days where people just said what they meant. Jean was never like this, you canât help but think. However, this isnât Jean, and in a way you're happy it isnât. An irritating challenge is a challenge nonetheless, and youâll be damned if Eren Yeager blames his lost ticket to finals on you.
Especially after the number of bruises youâve acquired, from all the times heâs dropped you.
Deep down, you believe there is a reason why Jean put you up for this program (aside from Mikasaâs obvious injury). Despite Erenâs reserved nature of fending for himself in the rink, the set was for the most part, separated. A collection moves that we're paralleled, adjacent to one another, instead of moves that lie in the hands of both.
That is, except for three instances within the seven minutes in which the classical hymn plays. These are virtually unavoidable. While you can perfect your own moves alone, and mirror Erenâs stature down to a âT,â thereâs only so much you can do for yourself when heâs lifting you up with a single hand, palm nearly shaking against his own.Â
Itâs not that you donât trust Erenâalthough, it's kind of a stretch to say that you doâthe problem at hand is that he doesnât trust you, because you're not Mikasa and you canât hold your own against the stiffness of his locked elbows. Or at least, youâve explained that much to Jean and Sasha on the benches outside of the rink, while adjusting your shoes with vigor.Â
âItâs gonna be a process to adjust to each other.â Your former partner reasons, stretching out the blades of his shoulders, âThe jumps are going to take a while, I donât suggest pushing itâor youâll seriously get hurt.âÂ
His vague allude to Mikasa doesnât slip your mind, but you give Eren the benefit of the doubt, thereâs no way he actually would wish malice upon his partner of over a decade. You, however, are unfamiliar to him, heâs not used to your agility, and you're not used to his rigidity. Thereâs a frozen sea separating your techniques, but Jean is right, adjustment is everything.
âYou should talk to him,â Sasha suggests, standing against the glass and watching Niccolo practice his triple axel for the umph time, âIf heâs too stiff, of course youâre going to fall.â A hiss slips from her lips as the blonde in the rink misses his landing, wiping out not-so-gracefully.Â
A yank of the wrist and the sound of strained laces is music to your ears, âI feel like everything I tell him goes in one ear and out the other.â You adjust, âHeâs convinced his way is the only way, heâll listen to me but the second it seems unnatural to him he shifts back to what heâs used to.âÂ
Standing up, you grunt, âWhen is he going to learn Iâm not Mikasa?â Itâs a bitter fallacy on your lips, but aggressive nonetheless. It could even pass as a growl, if you listen closely. However, when you hear the door open and close, and watch Eren walk past the bench you're standing in front of with a stoic expressionâyou hope itâs meek and unintelligible through the glass doors.Â
Behind him is Erenâs coachâyour coachâyou stand a little straighter. Levi Ackerman is small, and not very menacing from afar, but he has the bite of a bark and the skills of a lion. In your core, you fear him, but out of respect more than anything else. The coach you and Jean shared was much nicer, but then again, you and him werenât up for finals, now were you?Â
âStretch out, and on the ice in twenty.â He snaps a pointer finger to the rink where Niccolo is currently stepping out defeatedly, âWeâre doing the lifts again today.âÂ
The bruise on your hip from yesterday aches at the mention, but alas, your work is cut out for you. Jeans sends a half hearted condolence your way, already marking up how much ice youâll need for your bath tonight to soothe the pain. Stepping onto the ice is anything but unfamiliar, but today it feels distantâsomehow, the momentary skate to Eren feels grueling as he waits for you with crossed arms.
âPlay the track!â Levi yells elsewhere, where someone is waiting from the booth above the rink, âI want to see how much ground you covered without me.âÂ
The melody is crisp, and echoes through the rink with a boom. Sometimes you canât help but like a bat in a cave, this climate isnât welcoming to the typical personâbut youâve become adept at it after so many years that you can navigate it like the back of your hand. The ice is where you live and breathe, fly to the best of your capability against the push of gravity. Itâs freedom, but at what cost?Â
Eren nods you off, to which you follow him in a series of turns, he glides and you mimic, the two of you look as if you're attached by an invisible string that strains each time the direction of your skates change. The ice comes up in flakes of snow, and they sting your nasal cavity as you take a deep breath in, readying yourself for the upcoming lift. Â
Levi is standing against the rink, his skates perpendicular to sustain balance, and his arms crossed in premeditated judgment. Youâre painfully aware of the fact that he doesnât expect much from either of you, the condescension of your âadjustment phaseâ still at the forefront of your mind. Still, heâs there to guide you, you keep going.
âStart crouching! Give him room for the lift!âÂ
A good eye is what Levi has, he can tell youâre milliseconds out of sync, and that's all it takes to send you belly up to the unforgiving ice. Crouching, you make a straight line to Erenâhis eyes donât give you the confidence you need to latch onto his palms and lift yourself, but itâs too late to stop.Â
Grasping his palm flat in yours, fingers outstretched and face one another, your grip and jumpâto which Eren lifts you over his shoulder. The only thing holding you up is the grip on his hand, and heâs barely paying any attention to it, already attempting to move away from the spot in which you hopped from.
It becomes increasingly difficult to keep your legs still, as he moves quickly across the iceâyou can feel your forearms shake slightly, and that's all it takes to come tumbling down.Â
Eren barely has enough time to recapture your hand, before you slip behind him and onto the ice with what might as well be a splat. The blades of your skates clang, and you can feel a multitude of eyes stare down your splayed figure. Only taking a moment to take back your stolen breath, you sit up and brush off.Â
Never is Eren entirely apathetic, as he skates over and leans down to your eye level, where you're just barely holding yourself up by the frozen heel of your hands, âAre you alright?â His eyes flick downward, falling on your hip, âSame spot as yesterday,â he looks up again, âDoes it hurt?â
No shit, you think, âCourse it hurts.
The nature of his question is polite, but you can tell by the way his hand is twitching that it wasnât an invitation to restâinstead, heâs eager for you to get back up, refusing to be stopped by something as measly as a fall. Nodding, you grab his hand and hoist yourself back up.Â
âMy bad,â Is all you shout to the room.Â
âGood.â Levi affirms, âLetâs keep moving.âÂ
The empathy that Eren shows you the first couple of times you fall dissipates as the day goes on. With each flop on ice, he becomes more irritatedâclearly frustrated with evident roadblock youâve seem to have placed in his otherwise âperfect program.â When stepping off the rink, he doesnât give you a goodbye.Â
Itâs grueling on you, honestly it is. To come in everyday and take his attitude along with Leviâs insistence on perfection. Perfection goes both ways, you believe, and Eren is hardly upholding his end of that promise. The only comfort you find on the rink is Levi, though he can only do so much for you, and youâre not sure if his mild surges of pity are endearing or degrading.Â
Frankly, you canât remember the last time you had this many bruises, up down the sides of your legs and alone the cranes of your pelvic bone. The locker room is the last place you want to be, although for the first time in a while you find yourself smiling upon entering,
âLong time no see.âÂ
Jean is propped against the lockers, Niccolo is next to him motioning about this and that while holding up a blunt skate. âYouâre one to talk!âÂ
 You watch him stand up straight, striding towards you, but is cut off by Sasha who is closer by just a couple feetâhaving been seated on the bench untying skates of her own. Sheâs quick to come hug you, nearly knocking you off your feet, but itâs the last tumble you're worried about taking today and quickly reciprocate her affections.Â
Once your autonomy was returned to you, you walked over the bench and threw a leg over the other end so that you were straddledâa stretch that always made you feel comfortable enough to sit for long periods of time. It all felt too familiarâthe red plastic beneath you, and the friendship you seem to have neglected over the past couple of weeksâwhile training with Eren, he became your life, and the rest faded to fuzz and scratched ice.Â
They smiled down at you like you were the face of the hour, an enigma, it wasnât praise but from the people who established you at this rinkâyou couldn't help but feel some sense of gratitude as they spared you their silent approval.
âSo,â Jean started, âHow is training with Yeager?âÂ
The smile you wore dissipated to crumbs of false pride when you recalled just how awful you truly feltâhow demeaned you felt beside Eren who stood tall despite his own shortcomings. And you hated how noticeable it all was, how your momentary joy fleeted and the exhaustion in your shoulders hit you like the initial fall, your shoulders slouching as you looked anywhere other than directly into their eyes.Â
âAwful,â was all you said, âItâs awful.âÂ
Ever distasteful towards the awkwardness of competition Niccolo cleared the air with a clap, âThatâs Yeager for you, heâs a real stiff one.âÂ
âYou're telling me, heâs got a real stick up his ass. Justâshoupâright up there.â To which Jean had accompanied with a rather lewd hand gesture.Â
This was news to youâyes, you had heard tales of Eren being a diva to some extent, but he was practically a god amongst others at this rink and in all the competition magazines. Him and Mikasa owned the regionâs senior competition stats, it was impossible that sleazy locker room talk was enough to dethrone him of that.
Sasha, always blunt in her sentiments, places a hand on your own, âHeâs nothing but a name without Mikasa, donât take it to heartâdo your best.â
Jean picks it up, âWe recommended you for a reason, youâre the best of us without all the unnecessary press.âÂ
âPlus you challenge Yeager,â Niccolo chimes, âNo one challengeâs Yeager.âÂ
âNo one challenges him because heâs a fucking prick,â Jean couldnât seem to help but blurt.Â
His eyes swell like saucers when the locker room door hits the opposite wall with a slam, and none other than the subject-of-conversation himself briskly walks past you and Sasha, only to open his own locker with another slam. The room falls painfully silent, and Jean opens his mouth to speak only to subsequently close itâas rectifying the situation is really beyond him at this point.
Eren manhandles his duffle bag, slinging it over his shoulder. When he closes the locker he looks around the room, scanning for the eye contact that no one will make with him. He huffs, and mumbles something that vaguely resembles a bitter affirmation that you were indeed discussing him. Knowing the walls and the echo of the place better than anyone, it was unlikely he missed the comment that brought the conversation to a halt. He stormed out in the same fashion in which he came, and you were all left to your devices.Â
Niccolo kicked Jean for his ignorance, to which he took with nothing more than a grimace. Sasha turned to you again, the color had faded from your face, and she didnât quite have the words to console you, so she only said, âAt least it wasnât you.â
Though, it might have well been. Jean was your partner before you were Erenâs, just like he was bonded to Mikasa in such an all consuming way, something similar could be said about you and Jean. Thus, his sentiments were yours and vice versa.Â
Yes, you missed your friends dearly, and for a moment it did feel nice to joke with them. Although, you knew that the consequences of such were only going to make practice that much more difficult for you tomorrow. Grabbing your belongings half heartedly, you said your salutations. The smile that sat on your face didnât quite come back for the rest of the night.
[ TO BE CONTINUED ]
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