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[wintergameskink]

 2010 Winter Games Kink Meme
Figure Skating Post!

Only figure skating/ice dancing prompts/fills go here!

Part 1 is here.
Part 2 is here.
Other Sports and Crossovers are here.
Speed Skating is here.

Rules are still there to be followed.
If you are new, please be sure to read the rules before posting.

Feel free to repost any prompts that have not been

Comments

Pt. 2/6

[anonymous]

2. Like a network of cells, the attendees at Stéphane's funeral stood in shifting groups with occasional members traveling in between. Johnny, frightened of their connections to Stéphane, hovered at the edge of the glade. Initially, he had welcomed their telephone calls. They vicariously resurrected his lover for him in one more tour bus trip, one more childhood antic. When he envisioned Stéphane during these mental constructions, it seemed as if Stéph really lived again and it was he, Johnny, whose spirit had become discarnate - a pale shadow hanging nebulously in the air, hopping through time to watch Stéphane live. Johnny relished experiences that he hadn't seen firsthand, for they bore the novelty of real life. But nonetheless, he was still grateful to watch Stéphane interact with the doppelganger of himself (although who was really the doppelganger, Johnny wondered).

Stéphane had been loved. The stories about him remembered the sweet and delicate man with a quiet nucleus of strength and security. But they also threatened to overshadow the small piece of Stéphane that meant the most. Johnny could only preserve so much of a second person's life into his mind, and he dreaded losing their secret moments alone to a great-aunt's tale about a bout of food poisoning. It was this intimate side of Stéphane that spoke to him now, and after having pressed all his memories of it under a protective glass too thick to see through, Johnny felt like he was going to die from feeling its raw presence around him once again.

Without you, I am so lonely....

In a different corner of the glade, Evgeni Plushenko spoke quietly with the figure skaters and ice dancers. They stood out from the other mourners, for assembled on their faces were composed expressions that betrayed pain only in their listless eyes - a technique hammered into them by the rigid, remorseless ice. They were all practiced sufferers. Evgeni marveled that Johnny had stayed true to this characteristic after Stéphane's death. After hearing the news, he had immediately taken a plane to Johnny's and Stéphane's Boston summer home, to where Johnny had fled. He had rung the doorbell to find Johnny, vacuum cleaner in a shaking hand, politely inviting him in and asking him for stories about Stéphane. Now that he considered it, the behavior felt unnerving. Evgeni had always considered himself to be a particularly resilient person, but when a horribly failed quad six months ago had stolen from him Sochi, skating, and the use of his right knee, the crushing grief and helplessness had pulverized his will to live. He didn't understand how Johnny had, for the few days that Evgeni had visited him, continued to clean and cook and treat him graciously, requesting nothing but stories, stories, stories upon stories about Stéphane. It was not healthy, Evgeni thought, how Johnny's eyes had been a matte dark stare that looked but didn't see. Chilled by the image, he excused himself from the skaters, repositioned his cane, and slowly maneuvered over to the man standing alone in the glade. "How are you, Johnnik?" he whispered in soft Russian.

The man turned towards him in the bright sunlight, and Evgeni's body paralyzed in irrecognition of the wild, quivering face he saw. Johnny's eyes focused on everything, everything around him with an excruciating ferocity, an impossible inferno of heat and cold. Several horrible seconds passed before Johnny, looking in front of Evgeni rather than at him, realized the threat and gasped, "Zhenya, please go, this will be my Stéphane, not yours." He left Evgeni standing speechlessly as he promptly drifted away to another part of the glade, re-submerging himself into the overwhelming, intoxicating presence in the air.

Re: Pt. 2/6

[anonymous]

OH, my heart. :'((((((((( this is so good, and emotional and gahhh. johnnyyy. :'(