#also WORLDS IS HAPPENING NEXT WEEK and it DIDN'T GET CANCELLED i'm pumped

[tripleaxeldiaz]

maybe one day i’ll fly next to you

chapter 6/8

read on ao3

start from the beginning

Eddie gets cleared with two weeks to spare, and they celebrate by making out on Buck’s couch for so long it actually starts to hurt.

Buck can admit that as excited as he was to give this thing of theirs a go (“You can call me your boyfriend, Buck, it’s not a bad word”), there was still a part of him that was nervous. Nervous about how it would affect him, would affect both of them, especially now, when they’re physically and emotionally exhausted as they hurtle closer and closer to Beijing. For the first week, Buck kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Eddie to realize this was a mistake and break it off cleanly, before they got in too deep. He knows what a monster he can be when he’s strung out on stress, and only Maddie has ever been able to see past the short words and shorter temper and get him to breathe again. 

But one day, after an awful practice that brought the monster out in full force, Eddie found him hiding out in the locker room, fuming by himself and at himself. He didn’t chastise him like he could have (like he should have), didn’t tell him he was overreacting or that he was too much. Instead, he did what had become such a pillar in their friendship: he sat next to Buck and waited. And when all the anger and frustration finally seeped out of him, Eddie was there with a warm, solid, grounding hand to pull him back to his feet and away from the edge he was mentally leaning over. No judgement or invalidation, just genuine empathy. 

And that’s all it took for it to slot into place for Buck. That no matter what, they’re friends — best friends — first, and their very unique life paths means they understand each other on a level that no one else can. Being boyfriends just means they get to do more fun things together now, like making out on couches like the real teenagers they never got to be.

The weeks after Eddie’s clean bill of health fly by, and they’re heading to Lake Placid before he knows it. Buck’s excited — he’s always excited for Nats — but he also feels a looming sense of foreboding, like any minute, something is going to go terribly, terribly wrong. The last time he competed here was four seasons ago, when he won his last Nats gold, two weeks before shattering his leg and Olympic dreams in one fell swoop. Who’s to say it won’t happen again? Maybe the universe has decided that the Olympics are not for him, and this weekend will result in a last place finish or another injury or something else that takes everything away from him again.

He feels a warm palm against his and a squeeze, looks up to see Eddie watching him, framed by the snowy mountains whizzing by the bus window. His brow is creased in worry, like he can see the storm starting to swirl in Buck’s head. That worry, the way Eddie knows him, is strangely grounding, pulling him out of his dark cloud enough to actually enjoy the view of upstate New York they have as they make their way to their hotel.

The pre-competition routine is easy, familiar, and Buck lets himself get lost in it, block out any and all doubts that keep trying to sink their claws into him as the weekend gets closer and closer. Eddie’s there every step of the way too, not at all the distraction Buck had been worried about for way too long, but a welcome calm in the clusterfuck of his emotions, something for him to hold onto and gravitate back towards when it all starts to be too much. He can’t believe he survived this season — or any other season — without this to balance him out, but he knows for a fact that he’s never letting it go.

It’s the morning before shorts, and Buck is woken up by obnoxious pounding on their hotel room door. He feels a groan rumble through Eddie’s chest where it’s pressed against his back, smirks as he feels his arms wrap tighter around his waist.

“If we’re quiet enough, maybe they’ll go away,” Eddie whispers.

“Get up losers, we know you can hear us,” Chim yells through the door. Buck throws back the covers, chilly morning air making him even more irritated, and yanks the door open, coming face to face with Chim and May.

“Oh thank god, he’s wearing pants,” May sighs in relief.

Buck squints an eye at her. “It’s 8:00am, what could you possibly want from us this early?”

“It’s team bonding day,” Chim says with a grin. “We’re going to Mirror Lake. Grab Eddie and your skates and meet us at the bus in 15.”

“What if we had our own plans?” Buck asks, crossing his arms. “How do you know we weren’t gonna spend all day in bed having—” A hand clamps over his mouth from behind him before he can finish.

“We’ll see you guys down there,” Eddie says. He shuts the door on them and pinches Buck’s side, turning toward his suitcase to find clothes.

“What?” Buck asks, laughing. “I was gonna say having a movie marathon, you didn’t let me finish.”

That earns him a sweatshirt thrown at his head, but Eddie’s looking at him all fond and soft when he throws it, so Buck’s not complaining.

Mirror Lake is the very definition of “winter wonderland” — the ice seems like it’s never ending, so clean and smooth you almost feel bad skating over it. Mountains and forests surround it on all sides to hide it away from the rest of the world, and Christmas lights are still strung up in the trees and around houses. It’s fairly empty this early, just a small group of kids playing a pickup game of hockey near one of the inns. A dusting of snow covers and muffles everything, bringing a sense of stillness and calm that’s unmatched anywhere else.

Buck takes a deep breath and revels at the bite he feels in his lungs. All the thoughts and voices filling his head finally quiet down, and he can just be here, enjoy this time with his friends without worrying about what’s going to happen tomorrow or next month. He knows it won’t last long, will all come flooding back as soon as they leave the lake, but he’s going to soak it all in while he can. 

He’s fallen behind the group a bit as they spread out, taking in the sight of everyone — Maddie and Chim holding hands and matching strokes like always, Hen and May making up some kind of obstacle course, Bobby and Athena lost in deep conversation as they glide. He keeps looking until he spots Eddie, a little ways from the group, moving and spinning to the music only he can hear in his head. He’s as graceful as ever, confident in every movement, but there’s peace in him too — he’s at ease, free from the pressure of competition and perfection that Buck knows rests so heavily on his shoulders. The early morning sun bathes him in golden light, but it’s nothing compared to the smile sent his direction when he catches Buck watching.

He’s so beautiful it actually takes Buck’s breath away.

Eddie makes his way back to him, the light following in his wake. His smile is even brighter up close, but Buck only gets to enjoy it for a moment before he’s being pulled into a kiss so sweet and slow and perfect it makes him dizzy. Eddie pulls away just as quickly as he came in, the smile replaced with a smirk, and Buck barely registers the words “Race ya!” before Eddie’s speeding off to the other side of the lake. He’s stunned for a minute before he pushes off too, catching up with Eddie and doing his best to cut him off the rest of the way. Their laughter echoes off the mountains, surrounding them in their own joy, and Buck for the life of him can’t remember the last time he was this happy.

~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie’s in first and Buck’s closing out the group, because apparently the universe gets a kick out of watching him suffer.

They’ve been in this same situation so many times before, and he used to be able to turn his irritation at another flawless skate from Eddie into determination, propelling his own skating to be as close to perfect as possible. Now, though, he feels...proud. And happy for Eddie, because despite the weeks out and any lingering pain, he was flawless again — everything perfectly landed and rotated, a commanding presence on the ice. It’s a weird feeling, but it’s also nice, especially when Eddie winks at him and mouths good luck as he makes his way to the kiss and cry, and Buck’s whole body fills up with giddy butterflies.

Turns out butterflies work better than anything else for him — he’s 10 points in first place after shorts, and he feels so electric, so on top of the world he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

Until he sees Eddie again on their way to the presser, costume still sticking to him with sweat in all the right places, hair mussed and cheeks rosy.

Then there’s only one thing he wants to do, and he can’t believe he has to be polite to reporters before he can do it.

He manages to be nice and not stare at Eddie the whole time, but he snaps as soon as they get back to their hotel room, pushing Eddie up against the door as it closes and kissing him fast and dirty.

“Is this your way of distracting me so you win tomorrow?” Eddie asks, breathless from the kiss, fingers threading through Buck’s hair as Buck trails kisses down his jaw and neck, pausing only to shove Eddie’s jacket and shirt off so he can get to more skin. He stops again just as he gets to Eddie’s chest, his breath ghosting over a nipple and leaving goosebumps in its wake. Eddie’s pupils are blown wide when he meets his eyes, and the blush on his cheeks and crawling down his chest is so pretty Buck could write sonnets about it.

He smirks, the novelty of the effect he has on Eddie far from wearing off. “Do you want me to stop?”

Eddie shakes his head, cupping Buck’s jaw to pull him back up. “Fuck no, don’t even think about it,” he says before kissing him hard again, tongue licking into his mouth immediately, and Buck can practically taste the quiet, subconscious sounds Eddie makes as his fingers run down his chest and stomach. He quickly thanks whoever made track pants a part of the Team USA uniform before shoving Eddie’s down his thighs and finally getting a hand on his cock, already hard and leaking. Eddie whines as Buck breaks their kiss, but it settles into a sigh as he resumes his trail down his body. Normally he’d spend a lot longer working his mouth over as much of Eddie’s skin as he can reach, relish in the salty sweet taste of it and hit all the places that make Eddie’s hips buck forward without his permission, but he’s only got one goal in mind at the moment. He’ll make it up to Eddie later.

He finally swallows Eddie down, hears a “fuck” and a thump above him as Eddie’s head hits back against the door. He knows exactly what Eddie likes — the first week of their relationship was pretty much dedicated to figuring out all the best ways to make each other fall apart. Eddie gets a hand in his hair again as he hollows out his cheeks and hums, vibrations sending another wave of shivers over Eddie, making his hips rock even more. Buck looks up, and Eddie looks wrecked, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth, head thrown back and neck bared. It’s a miracle, really, that Buck doesn’t come right then and there.

“Christ, Buck, I’m—” Eddie tugs on Buck’s hair in warning, but it just makes Buck go faster, coaxing and coaxing until Eddie’s spilling into his mouth. Buck just barely has time to finish swallowing before he’s being yanked back to his feet and into a searing kiss, Eddie wasting no time in tasting himself on Buck’s tongue. He barely registers where Eddie’s hands are until he feels one wrap around his cock, steady and determined. He’s so keyed up now that it doesn’t take much — a few twists of Eddie’s wrist and a bruise sucked onto the underside of his jaw has him spilling over Eddie’s hand before he knows it. 

He presses kisses to every part of Eddie’s face he can reach as he comes down, soaking in the warmth radiating from him, only stopping when Eddie not so discreetly tries to wipe his hand on Buck’s pants.

“Hey!” he cries, laughing at the look on Eddie’s face. “Go wash your hands like a normal person and come meet me in bed.”

“Room service?”

“Duh.” He kisses Eddie’s nose before flopping onto the bed and flipping through movie rentals. The rest of their evening is quiet, full of bad movies and french fries and conversations about everything and nothing, and Buck feels an ease that he never feels the night before free skates. Tomorrow may be make or break for him, for both of them, but in this little cocoon of theirs, his face tucked into Eddie’s neck and Eddie’s arms around him as they drift off to sleep, the worry and nerves and anxiety feel too far away to touch him.

~~~~~~~~~~

The worst part is that he knows it’s a dream.

He knows if he jumps in real life, he’ll always come back down. Maybe not gently and maybe not on his feet, but after half a second of air time, he will touch the ground again. 

But now he’s taken off and he just keeps going — it’s completely impossible, but he’s still scared. Scared of the unknown that he’s propelling towards, scared that he can’t control his body or where it’s going, scared that it’s all going to end and there’s nothing he can do about it.

Fear turns to pure terror as his weight shifts of its own accord and starts sending him back to the rink he’s made up in his head. He thinks (hopes) he’ll wake up before he makes impact, but the panic is still clawing at him, sinking into his bones and running all the worst case scenarios though his head. He crashes through the ice but it doesn’t stop — flashes of disappointed faces, snippets of voices tinged with pity for him and the fact that he failed once again. It’s cacophonous and overwhelming, but he catches specific voices — Maddie, Bobby, Eddie — that try to push through, try to pull him out, but it’s not enough. He’s falling into the nothingness of his own failure and there’s not a damn thing anyone can do about it.

He finally wakes up, his skin feels like it’s buzzing, alive with lingering panic. He’s got an arm around Eddie’s waist and his face pressed into the back of his neck, and he takes a minute to breathe him in and get his heart to slow back down. It’s early, barely light out, but Buck slips out of bed, grabs the comforter from the other one, and quietly slides open the balcony door. The snow is just starting to glow from the first rays of sunlight, and everything is quiet, still, a direct contrast with the thoughts and feelings still swirling in Buck. He sits on the little bench facing the surrounding forest, does his best to focus on the chill in the air and the quiet nature sounds around him, tries to shut out everything else and be right where he is.

It takes a while, but it helps. 

The sun is fully up by the time he goes back in, and Eddie’s just finishing packing up his skating bag. Buck’s bag, actually. Eddie’s is already set by the door. He feels on the verge of tears again, but not in a bad way.

Eddie turns to him as he slides the door shut. His eyes track everywhere, like he’s cataloging Buck, taking stock before making a move. Buck’s stupidly grateful for it — he feels like one wrong move could send him cracking all over again, and it wouldn’t be Eddie’s fault, but he’d get the brunt of it. But Eddie knows him better than almost anyone, so whatever move he makes will be a good one.

He watches Eddie move slowly toward him and reach for his hand, giving Buck every opportunity to back up and say no. That’s not at all what he wants, so he meets Eddie halfway and laces their fingers together.

“Do you need another minute?” Eddie asks quietly.

Buck shakes his head. “I’m okay. We have to leave soon anyway.”

“Will you believe me if I tell you that everything’s gonna be fine?”

“Probably not.”

Eddie nods. “Okay.” He tugs Buck toward him, gently kisses his forehead, cheek, and lips. “We need to be downstairs in 30 minutes.”

Buck squeezes his hand and heads towards the bathroom. He steps into the shower and tries to convince himself that Eddie’s right.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Channel your nerves, Buck. Everyone here is rooting for you. Show ‘em what you got.”

Buck nods at Bobby before pushing off the boards. He hears On the ice, representing the 118 Skating Club of Los Angeles, Evan Buckley and the applause that follows, but it sounds tinny and far away. He’s trying to channel everything — his nerves, doubts, fear of failure, whatever — and make it work for him, but it’s not as easy today. He feels heavy, like his body isn’t quite in line with his mind and what he needs to be doing, and he knows he’s going to be fighting himself for every element for the next four and a half minutes.

The music starts and he tries to float with it, use it to push through the extra gravity he feels and lift himself up more. He lands his first jump — his triple axel, usually one of his strongest — but feels himself wobble, knows his GOE will be low. He misses the second jump on his first combo and has to mentally comb through his program to figure out where he can tack it onto to make up points. On and on it goes — he doesn’t fall, there’s no monumental breakdown, but he’s subpar, doesn’t meet his own expectations and probably doesn’t meet those of the USFSA. He finishes with the fakest smile he’s ever slapped on his face and all but sprints to the kiss and cry.

Nats scores are always inflated, so he doesn’t do bad, but he’s certainly done better. There are three skaters left, including Eddie, and a terrible part of him hopes that the other two eat ice so he can still finish on the podium and salvage his spot in Beijing.

They don’t. Naturally. He sits in the green room as they each have the best skate of their season and leap frog over his score. Eddie’s last to go and he lays it all out there, like he’s already at the Olympics, but Buck’s hardly mad about that. He’s a force, attacking every jump but still keeping a softness in his movements to match Jeff Buckley’s voice. Buck’s got chills up and down his back during his last step sequence and into his final pose, and he knows it’s a gold medal by a mile. And he’s happy for Eddie, ecstatic even, but he also feels his heart break a little bit, because Eddie winning puts him in fourth.

The pewter medal. A stupid consolation prize that only the USFSA gives out. He’s technically still on the podium, but it somehow feels worse than if he’d finish last.

“You had a great Grand Prix this year, that counts for a lot more than Nats,” Eddie says on the ride to the airport the next day. It’s the first time Buck’s let him talk about it without changing the subject or kissing him or literally walking into another room. He’s run out of energy to avoid it anymore. 

“They’ll want someone consistent, and that’s clearly not me.”

“You have the second highest overall score in the country this season, fifth in the world. They can’t ignore that.”

Buck shrugs, picks at an errant string on his hoodie to avoid looking Eddie in the eye. He feels lips press to his temple and unconsciously melts, head moving down to rest on Eddie’s shoulder.

“It’ll all work out. We’ll be in Beijing together, I know it.”

Eddie’s always so confident, so sure in his convictions and unwavering in his beliefs. Buck loves him for it but it’s also unnerving, because he wants to believe as hard as Eddie does, but he knows how this goes. He works and works and pushes and pushes but in the end, it’s not far enough. All his hard work, his literal blood sweat and tears, can’t get him that extra inch closer to where he wants to be.

It happened four years ago, and he can feel it happening again. And this time, he won’t be able to blame a broken leg for his failures.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Buck, stop shaking your leg, you’re gonna trigger an earthquake.”

Buck scowls at Chim but stops. It’s been three days since Nats, three days of waiting, knowing that at any minute, the USFSA is going to post their final Olympic team. He’s been on edge for 72 hours because they won’t have an idea it’s happening until it happens, and he thinks he might be starting to go insane.

“It’ll be soon,” Maddie says from where she’s leaning on the boards. They’re all supposed to be warming up, a long day of practice ahead, but they’re congregated around the benches instead, anxiety crackling between all of them like lightning.

He doesn’t even notice his leg starts shaking again until Eddie places a hand on it to stop him.

“Opening ceremonies are in three weeks,” May says as she stretches on the floor. “They’re cutting it awfully close if they don’t announce, like, today.”

Chim groans as he stands up from the bench to join Maddie. “Why is it even taking so long? They’ve seen how the season’s gone so far, there can’t be that much left to deliberate.”

“Do you think they’re actually still deciding, or just waiting because it’s dramatic?” Buck asks.

Eddie snorts. “Probably the latter.”

“Guys!”

They all turn towards the doorway to the locker room, and Buck feels his blood run cold. Hen is there, looking calm as ever on the outside, but he meets her eye, and he knows.

“They just posted the list. Bobby has it up on his computer.”

Chim grabs Maddie’s hand and sprints, and May is hot on their heels. Eddie gets 10 feet in front of him before he realizes Buck hasn’t followed. He’s frozen in place, hands numb, heart beating so hard he’s worried about his ribs. Right now, on the bench, he can convince himself he’s living in a world where his dreams haven’t been crushed, where he still has a chance. Once he takes a step, that all ends.

Eddie comes back for him, grabs both of his hands and waits until Buck meets his eye. When he does, he gives him that small, soft smile Buck knows is just for him, and it feels like he’s saying I believe in you. It’s enough to get him moving.

They catch up with the others just as they get to Bobby’s office, and they jostle and crowd around the desktop, trying to get a clear view. Buck’s thankful for his height and looks over everyone, the world quickly narrowing to just him and the computer screen.

From the top, the list goes men, ladies, pairs, dance, so he starts from the bottom to delay any disappointment. 

He feels the tears prick when he sees Chim and Maddie listed, his smile nearly splits his face at May’s name. Eddie was inevitable, but his heart still soars when he sees it written out.

And then.

And then.

His name. His name, just above Eddie’s. 

Evan Buckley. Right there, clear as day, in Times New Roman font.

He’s glad Chim and May are already crushing him in a hug, because he’s pretty sure his knees have given out.

This is real. This is happening. Eddie is squeezing his hand and Maddie is crying and it’s happening.

They are officially, officially, going to the Olympics.