Fan Fiction - Krasobruslení - Povídky
His heart is still pounding and he's still a little out of breath when he finally runs away from the reporters and slips through the door of the locker room. It's empty and Johnny is relieved – a little privacy, some time alone is just what he wants – needs – right now. He lets out an audible sigh and brushes his hand angrily over his face as he feels a treacherous tear trickle down his left cheek.
He's angry at himself, his free skate was shaky and sloppy – he knows that and he knows that he can do much better. But it's over now, it's too late, he realizes with a bitter laugh, and there's nothing he can do but wait… four years until the next Games. Johnny likes things going the way he wants them to go – but today they didn't and he's disappointed, mad, upset. A new wave of anger rises in his chest and he slams his fist against the wall, kicks his foot against the solid material, the tip of his skate's blade collides with the wall with an unpleasant scratchy sound.
Johnny is shaking and there's nothing to calm his rage, to soothe him and rid him of the bad temper, so he just keeps beating his fists against the wall in the deserted locker room, bang bang bang, even though the pain that shoots up his arm with every hit makes him cringe.
The voice startles Johnny and he spins around, the ‘sod off’ and ‘leave me alone’ already on his tongue. But he never gets to actually saying the words; instead, he freezes mid-movement and gasps in surprise.
“You don’t want to injure yourself so close before the championship, do you?”
There he is, the man Johnny looks up to, the man he admires, the champion of Torino who already owns the gold, although three more skaters are yet to perform. There he is, Evgeni Plushenko, smiling at him in a friendly manner.
“I watched you skate,” he announces.
“Oh?” Johnny realizes that he has been gawking and closes his mouth.
“It wasn’t your day today,” Evgeni states casually.
As if Johnny didn’t already know that!
“No, it definitely wasn’t,” he smirks and shrugs his shoulders, tugs at the frilly cuff of his costume nervously. This entire situation is weird and Johnny feels unusually awkward – it’s sort of hard to be your normal confident self when you’ve just been caught crying and throwing a tantrum… all that in front of the eyes of the world’s best male skater, your idol and competitor at the same time.
Johnny observes his feet for a while, then looks up to find the Russian’s blue eyes fixed on him. Seconds pass and Johnny decides that maybe it would be best to simply say ‘congrats’ and ‘bye’ and walk away, but then Plushenko speaks and his words once again root Johnny to the spot.
“You are very beautiful,” Evgeni says and his lips curl in a small smile.
“I… What?” Johnny blinks, not sure if he really heard what he thought he heard.
“You look wonderful on the ice,” the Russian explains and takes a step towards Johnny, who watches him with wide open eyes. “And off the ice, too,” Plushenko adds and steps even closer.
“I… well… thank you,” Johnny manages, too taken aback for a more coherent reaction. His heart flutters erratically inside his chest and little sparks of excitement run through his limbs when Evgeni closes his fingers around Johnny’s bicep and pulls him closer. Firm arms wrap around his waist and crush Johnny against the other skater’s lean body, so that he can feel everything…
Johnny meets the Russian’s eyes once more, then lets his eyelids fall shut and tilts his head up in anticipation.
When warm lips touch his mouth, followed by a tip of tongue, Johnny suddenly forgets all about medals and skating, Olympics and axels and salchows and spins, he forgets the anger and disappointment and allows himself to get lost in the kiss… Why care about a silver or bronze medal when you can have the gold medalist?