Fic: The Lonely End of the Rink, Part 3/7 COMPLETE
Title: The Lonely End of the Rink 3.1
Pairing: Marcus/Esca
Rating: NC-17
Summary: I looked up and you were there, just sitting there all alone, holding your fist in the air, like, if you need me you're on your own. At the lonely end of the rink, you and me.
I hear your voice ‘cross a frozen lake, a voice from the end of a leaf, saying, ‘you won’t die of a thousand fakes or be beaten by the sweetest of dekes’. At the lonely end of the rink, you and me.
Word Count:100,000-ish in 7 parts, COMPLETE This part 14,000 ish
Disclaimer: These beautiful boys belong to Rosemary Sutcliff and Focus Features, dammit. I just like making them do filthy, wonderful things to each other.
Author’s Notes: 1) This fic is a modern AU inspired by a prompt at the_eagle_kink, and it totally took my brain over, pouring out of me like a flood. It was truly frightening to watch.
This fic is a modern AU filled with hockey, figure skating, high school, a smattering of original and movie characters, with a hefty dose of Canadiana. It is a fic that deals with real life situations and attitudes, not a fluff piece, so keep that in mind.
Master post with extended Author’s Notes, banners and fanmix, as well as links to all the parts here.
Luv (Sic)
Words I carry in my heart, words I carry in my heart.
Clung to, glad of, uncommonly held.
Peculiarly interlaced, remembered and felt.
Am I lovesick?
It's as if love's the only virtue there is
Am I lovesick?
The plot thins, emotions get frayed, attractions move through the shade.
Done for, delight in and forever held.
Influence, given life, remembered and felt.
Am I lovesick?
It's not as if love's the only virtue there is
Am I lovesick?
He’d gone home in a daze, his stomach churning with the feeling that he had made a mistake. But what was the mistake? Was it kissing Esca, or was it running away? Marcus couldn’t tell, his intentions were so mixed up and confused in his head that he didn’t even know what to think.
He threw himself on his bed, his eyes burning with tears that he blinked back desperately. He was not a little girl, he was almost a grown man, it was ridiculous. But then he thought about Esca, about how it felt to press their lips together, how amazing it had felt when Esca’s hands had slid across his jaw, how soft his hair had been when Marcus had cupped his head...it was overwhelming. The tears slipped out, wetting his pillow but doing nothing to ease the ache in his chest.
He shouldn’t have left. He shouldn’t have run like a scared child, afraid to face himself and his feelings. But he was afraid, he was terrified. He thought of all he would be giving up if he followed his heart, all the hard work and striving that would be rendered meaningless, all because a beautiful boy had skated into his life and turned it upside down.
He stood, dashing away the wetness on his face and wandering to his hockey shrine, as Uncle called it. There were shelves and drawers and hangers for his gear, as well as pictures, trophies, photo albums, all with a piece of his history, a piece of his father, his family.
He pulled out the newest one, beginning with pictures of his parents holding him, an impossibly tiny infant in his mother’s arms, his father beaming at him as if this tiny person in the arms of his beloved was the peak of his accomplishment. Tears filled Marcus’ eyes again as he flipped through, his mother nursing him, playing with him, carrying him in a wrap that kept Marcus close and warm, safe. His father, smiling as Marcus unwrapped his first hockey stick, laughing as he pushed Marcus ever higher on the swing in their backyard, holding his hand as he took his first steps onto the ice, his little feet encased in tiny black skates.
It wasn’t long enough, there hadn’t been enough time, only two more pages until a yellowed newspaper clipping, pictures of the car, words describing the scene of horror where Marcus’ mother had been taken from them so abruptly in the spring of 1994. More clippings followed, the grief of his father, his smile slipping away as he struggled to cope with the loss of his wife amidst the biggest season of his hockey career. The Canucks had been on fire all season, taking the division by storm, winning their way through the playoffs despite the flagging performance of a man lost in his own desperate sorrow.
When he had let in that goal, the media had turned on him. No longer did they offer condolence and support, now there was only doubt and derision, and questions. So many questions. Why had Vinnie Aquila been allowed to play, why hadn’t they replaced him when it had become clear that his play was compromised, why hadn’t he stepped down, allowing the back up to take over, why, why, why?
But no one had asked. They had assumed he would play, after all, who would give up the opportunity to capture one dream, especially so soon after the loss of another? Marcus’ father bore some of the blame for that, for never having spoken up, for never sharing his despair in an attempt to ease it. He had held his grief inside and had used it to erect a wall that no one had been able to conquer.
He died less than two months after the last game of his career, brought low by a combination of drugs and alcohol, his life mercifully ended by his own passive hand. He had been unable to cope, Uncle had said, the pain had proved too much and he had been desperate to numb it.
Marcus sobbed, dropping to the floor in a heap, unable to look anymore. His life had changed irrevocably, and he hadn’t even been old enough to understand it. He didn’t even remember it, Uncle was all he knew, the title meant as much to him as that of Mother, Father.
He didn’t remember his parents, but he loved them all the same. He ached when he thought of those pictures, his mother’s arms holding him close, his father’s pride a blanket around him. These were the things he clung to when uncertainty faced him, when he was unsure of how to proceed.
He rose up, replacing the album with reverent hands, touching the wedding rings that hung from his mother’s favorite gold chain, feeling closer to them than ever before. He went into the bathroom and washed his face, letting the water flush away his tears and his uncertainty.
Leaving had been the right thing. He could not allow his feelings for Esca to get in the way of his goals, his dreams. He owed a debt to his father, to his name, and that debt would only be repaid when he took to the ice in an NHL arena and proved himself his father’s son, bringing the name of Aquila to people’s lips once more, this time with admiration and love instead of derision and censure.
**
Marcus skipped his solo practice the next morning, having no idea if Esca was planning to retake his Saturday slot, but unwilling to take the risk. Instead he wandered the house, kept indoors by the weather, until Uncle’s questions became too much and he’d fled, driving into town by rote, ending up at the Henderson house before he’d realized where he’d been going.
It was for the best, he needed to end things with Cottia before he could be allowed to hurt her anymore. She didn’t deserve it, she was worthy of more than the half hearted attentions he’d reluctantly given her.
“Marcus!” she’d exclaimed in excitement, ushering him in happily before she got a good look a this face. When she noticed his expression, she guided him upstairs quietly, shushing him as they passed Charlie’s room, but Marcus didn’t need the reminder. The last thing he needed just then was to see Charlie.
“Marcus, what’s the matter?” she asked, sitting beside him on the bed and taking one of his big hands with both of her small ones.
“I,” he began, pausing to take a deep breath and looking her in the eye. “I can’t see you anymore,” he said simply, holding her gaze as realization set in and she dropped his hand.
“But, I don’t understand,” she said, eyes glistening. “Things were going so well, I thought.”
“They weren’t bad,” he confirmed. “But they weren’t good either, you must have known that my heart just wasn’t in it.”
“I suspected you were holding back, but I didn’t know why,” she said sadly. “Why?”
“I’ve not been honest with myself, and as a result I wasn’t honest with you, either.” He rubbed hand over his face, headache developing, making him wish he was back in his bed. “It’s complicated, but I know I haven’t been fair to you, and I had to fix it. I couldn’t keep letting you think that we had a future, it isn’t fair. You deserve better.”
“I do?”
“Yes.” He reached out and took her hand again, squeezing it affectionately. “I care about you a lot, more than I’ve let myself admit, but I’m never going to love you the way you want me to. It’s not fair of me to keep you hoping for it, not when there’s a man out there who will treat you the way I should have.”
He looked up, and that’s when he noticed the twinkling lights behind her, red and green and white, reminding him of just how shitty a boyfriend he’d been.
“Shit Cottia, it’s Christmas, I’m so sorry,” he said, squeezing her hand even tighter. “I’d forgotten, I should have left it-”
“No Marcus,” she interrupted in a shaky voice. “I’m glad you didn’t leave it. I’m glad you ended it now, Christmas or not. You’re right, I deserve someone who wants me truly, and you deserve to be with someone you want just as much.”
He took a deep breath, smiling at her sadly. “See, you are so much better than I gave you credit for. I hope we can still be friends.” She laughed, throwing her arms around him and for the first time, he hugged her back, for real, clinging desperately until she pulled back. He needed a friend more than anything else, then.
“You just try and stop me,” she said, smiling through the unshed tears.
“Good,” he said, “thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she replied, pulling him into another hug, holding him longer this time. He just breathed, closing her eyes and accepting the comfort.
“You look horribly sad Marcus, this isn’t just about me, is it?” she asked, and he could not lie to her.
“No, it’s not,” he confirmed, but he shook his head when she opened her mouth to speak. “No, it’s not just someone else either, not really...it’s much more complicated than that.”
“Okay,” she said. “But you had better come talk to me, if you need to, promise?”
He nodded, accepting another hug before she stood up, pulling him up with her.
“Now go on and get out of here, I think I need a little cry.”
“Cottia, I’m so sorry,” he began, but she cut him off again. “Just go, Marcus. We’ll talk soon, alright?”
“Okay,” he said, squeezing her hand once more before doing as she’d asked and leaving her alone.
**
Marcus’ phone rang twice that day with Esca’s ringtone. He ignored it both times, leaving his phone in his jacket while trying to distract himself with game tapes. He’d been slacking off on them anyway, it was about time he focused his attention back where it belonged.
Uncle asked him why he wasn’t out with Esca, since he’d just got back and Marcus didn’t know what to tell him, so he made up an excuse about Esca’s Nan needing him and retreated back to his room.
When the game tapes became tedious, he flipped through his dvr for something to watch and found himself being tempted by one entry in particular, Esca’s long program from the finals in Seoul, his winning performance. He’d taken the final with that program, it had been so expressive and moving that Marcus had run upstairs shortly after it and had given himself the orgasm of his life.
He thought about watching it for a moment, but then, before he could be weak again, he deleted it, following that with every single performance of Esca’s that he’d recorded. When the machine was wiped clean he sat staring at the menu, breathless, unable to keep from thinking that he’d just done something he’d regret.
He turned the machine off, throwing the remote onto the couch. A run, that would clear his mind. And the rain would only make it more distracting. Once he was ready, he grabbed his phone from his jacket pocket out of habit, to take with him, but stopped when he saw ‘2 missed calls’ flashing on the screen. He pressed the ‘view’ button, unsurprised to see Esca’s number listed twice, along with two new messages. He pressed ‘listen’ and put the phone to his ear, his stomach churning.
The first was short, just Esca’s voice saying, “Marcus, call me back, please? Soon.” He deleted it immediately, then listened to the second. It was much longer.
“Marcus, I don’t know what...I mean, can we talk about this? I missed you and I barely got back and I’m really, really sorry if I did or said anything to make you, oh I don’t know. I won’t deny I wanted it, that I want it. I’ve always...but if you don’t...it’s alright just...call me, would you? We don’t have to talk about it if that would be better but...I’d like to see you. I bought you something, okay, a few somethings, and I thought we could get together this week and, exchange gifts? I mean, I’m not assuming you’ve got me something or...oh bugger this. Just call me.”
Marcus let out the breath he hadn’t known he was holding with a rush. Esca sounded, well, almost desperate, and Marcus felt a tugging ache in his chest, telling him to press send, to call back and he almost did, but then he thought of what he would say. What was there to say? ‘I think I’m in love with you, but even a rumour of me being gay could ruin my career, and I have to stop hanging out with you so I don’t cave to the temptation of having you close.’
Marcus didn’t think that would go over well. He deleted the message, assuring himself he’d call Esca later, tomorrow or Monday or after Christmas. Just not now.
**
Christmas came and went. It was a rather subdued holiday, just Marcus and his uncle. Stephan had gone East to visit family and Sassy prepared them to make a small meal for Christmas, leaving the instructions with Marcus rather than his uncle, before heading off to see her on family.
Esca had called several more times over the days following his message, but he didn’t leave another one. On Christmas Eve, Marcus received a text from him that said, Fine, if that’s how you want it. Marcus almost caved when he read it, the ache in his chest filling up his whole body, but he didn’t want to ruin Esca’s Christmas with a fight. Besides, it seemed that Esca was done with him. It was for the best, really.
The knowledge should have relieved him, but all it did was make a knot of pain form in his belly, a knot that didn’t fade away.
**
New Year’s Eve rolled around before Uncle confronted him, and Marcus supposed he should be grateful for the reprieve. He had barely left the house for anything other then practices and runs, it was hard to swim during the winter, even though the pool was heated. He had ignored calls from Luke and Cottia, sending them both a text saying he’d been feeling sick and wasn’t in the mood to socialize. They seemed to accept his excuses, at least neither of them had pushed further.
He continued to skip his Saturday practice as well, unable to face Esca and the thought that had been steadily creeping in, day by day. The thought that he’d majorly fucked up, that he’d never get another chance. Esca’s words from that night, right before Marcus had kissed him, kept playing in his head, over and over.
He refused to believe it though. If he’d made a mistake, it was letting himself get close to Esca in the first place. He clung to the thought, although it was wearing thinner and thinner as time went by.
“Marcus, there you are,” Uncle said, finding Marcus in the sunroom off the kitchen where Sassy grew herbs.
“Here I am,” Marcus said quietly.
“You’re not going out tonight?” Uncle asked, sitting on the couch beside him, moving the book Marcus had forgotten out of the way.
“No, I’m not in the mood,” Marcus replied. Uncle sighed, resting a hand on his arm, drawing Marcus’ attention to him.
“You haven’t been in the mood for much lately,” he said. “Did you have a fight with Esca?”
“What makes you think that?” Marcus asked, turning away.
“Because I haven’t heard you speak his name since before Christmas. And considering how excited you were that he was coming back, it’s a bit of a surprise,” Uncle said.
“I haven’t mentioned any one else’s name, either,” Marcus said, trying to deflect the conversation, but his uncle was annoyingly single minded when he wanted to be.
“Yes, but no one else seems to mean quite as much to you,” Uncle said quietly. “Esca is special, isn’t he?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Marcus said, getting up and wandering to the other side of the room, pulling a mint leaf off one of Sassy’s potted plants and chewing it.
“I think you do,” Uncle said, standing as well. “But if you aren’t ready to talk about it, that’s fine.” He followed Marcus across the room and put a hand on his shoulder. “But I’m here when you need me.”
“Thanks,” Marcus whispered, his voice thick with emotion. Uncle was all the parents he’d ever known, and Marcus loved him fiercely. But there were some things even your parents couldn’t fix.
“Don’t mope around too long, tonight,” Uncle said, stepping back. “There’s some champagne in the fridge if you feel up to it, and Sassy left a trifle, which I know you love.”
“I do, thanks Uncle,” Marcus said, turning around to face him. “For everything.”
“Anything you need Marcus, you know that.” Uncle smiled at him. “But I must be off. Stephan will be impatient. Happy New Year,” he said, giving a wave and heading out.
“Happy New Year,” Marcus replied, quietly to himself, alone in an empty house, with a heart that felt just as barren.
**
The following Sunday Marcus received a phone call that he did answer, figuring it must be something important to make Jeff call him. Usually they talked at the arena, but then Marcus realised he hadn’t been going on weekends and had been slipping in and out for practices with barely a word to anyone. Even Luke had given up trying to engage him in conversation, and Marcus had thought he’d wanted it that way.
“Hello,” he answered.
“Oh, so you are alive,” Jeff said with a laugh. Marcus couldn’t help but smile back.
“Yeah, I’m alive,” he replied. “How are things, Jeff?”
“Good, good, you know, life as usual,” Jeff said. “Only you haven’t been in for a few weeks, not on Saturdays anyway, and I was wondering if you wanted to give up your time slot. You’ve paid through, so you don’t have to, but I can think of a few people who would be grateful for the ice time.”
“Shit, yeah, sorry about that,” Marcus said. “I’ve had a lot on my mind.”
“I figured it was something like that, it’s just not like you to not call if you’ll be away,” Jeff explained. “And Esca hasn’t mentioned that anything happened, so I thought I’d give you a call.”
Marcus’ heart clenched at the mention of Esca, but he ignored it. “No, that’s fine, thanks. Yeah, I’ll be in next week for sure. It’s about time I get back into the swing of things.”
“Great, I’ll see you then.”
“You bet,” Marcus said, before disconnecting the call. He slipped the phone back in his pocket and finished making himself a sandwich. Jeff was right, it wasn’t like him to forget something like that, never mind to skip practices just because he was uncomfortable with the thought of running into Esca. The fact was, they were going to run into each other at some point, and it was going to be dealt with then. He might as well get it over with before school started.
The weight of the phone in his pocket served as a constant reminder that Esca hadn’t tried to call or text him after that first weekend, though Marcus couldn’t deny he was longing to hear Esca’s ringtone, just once more. But no, that would just tempt Marcus to pick up the phone and that was not something he could contemplate doing. It was done with now, for better or worse.
**
He didn’t see Esca that Saturday though, he went down to the locker room feeling a little dejected and hating himself for it, but when he came back up to rink level, he spotted Esca with Andrew on the ice. His stomach flipped, the ache in his chest flaring to sudden life at the sight of Esca, moving around the ice as if suspended above the surface, so graceful were his movements.
Marcus was unable to move, unwilling to tear his eyes away, starved for the sight of him. It felt like an eternity since they’d spent time together, and it had been, three months had passed, not including the one night before it had all gone bad. And there was Esca, just as beautiful as ever and Marcus felt suddenly sick, turning away and almost running out of the arena.
When he got home he spent the afternoon cleaning his hockey gear, thoroughly, The he cleaned his bedroom top to bottom, finished his homework, read a few extra chapters in his texts and sorted through his clothes, separating a pile that was too small or he didn’t use, to be taken to the Goodwill.
“Trying to distract yourself?” Uncle asked from behind him, making Marcus jump in fright.
“Not at all,” Marcus said once his heart left his throat and had repositioned itself in his chest.
“I just thought I’d do some spring cleaning,” he continued, giving his uncle a sheepish grin.
“It’s January,” Uncle remarked dryly.
“No time like the present,” Marcus said, patting Uncle on the shoulder and jogging up the stairs, half to finish his tasks and half to escape his uncle, who stood at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes narrowed in Marcus’ direction.
**
He ran into Esca at last, the first day back to school. Before he’d had a chance to even open his locker, Esca was there. His face was set in a blank expression that Marcus had never seen before and now that he had, he wished he could forget.
“We need to talk,” Esca said, staring at Marcus with that dead expression.
“Now? We’ve got class in-” Marcus began.
“Now,” Esca said firmly, his voice as set as his face. He turned and walked away, and Marcus could do nothing but follow him. Esca led them into the back stairwell, making sure there was no one else there before turning on Marcus, his eyes suddenly alive with fury.
“Were you ever planning on speaking to me again?” he asked, voice as heated as his eyes. “Or were you just going to avoid me and pretend it never happened?”
“I could hardly do that,” Marcus said softly, feeling like the biggest ass in the world.
“Oh really? You did a pretty good job of ignoring me these past few weeks. So what’s the deal Marcus, do you want me or not?” Esca said, his voice softening as he spoke, tugging on Marcus’ heart.
“I...it’s more complicated than that,” Marcus said.
“You know what I think? I think you’re a coward who cares more about his precious reputation than being true to himself!” Esca said, taking a few steps closer and poking Marcus in the chest.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Marcus snapped back, pushing his hand away, wanting to use it instead to pull him forward. He took a step back instead.
“Oh, because I’ve never had to worry about what it’s like being gay and telling people about it, have I?” Esca asked.
“Hey!” Marcus said, looking around. “Keep your voice down!”
“You’re not going to deny it then, are you?” Esca asked, crossing his arms.
“It’s not that easy for me,” Marcus hissed. “You’ve been out since you were fourteen, and you’re a figure skater, it’s practically a pre-requisite.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. There aren’t nearly as many gay figure skaters as you’d think,” Esca said.
“It’s still much more accepted in your sport,” Marcus pointed out. “Have you ever heard of a gay hockey player? You haven’t because it just doesn’t happen!”
“I’d say you were the proof that does that theory in,” Esca said.
“It’s not that no hockey player is gay, they just don’t come out, for fear of their careers. The hockey world isn’t tolerant. At all. It would be career suicide if anyone were to find out that I’m...like that.”
“That you’re gay,” Esca said. “Not saying the word doesn’t make it any less true.”
“It doesn’t matter what’s true or not, what matters is what people think.”
“You are so full of shit,” Esca said, poking Marcus again. This time Marcus grabbed his hand. Esca tugged, but he didn’t let go.
“I have ambitions,” Marcus said. “And I’m not willing to give them up to make some kind of point.”
Esca’s face fell and he stopped trying to pull his hand free. “Fine,” he said, moving closer. Marcus licked his lips. The last time Esca had been this close, Marcus had kissed him. The memory lingered, hanging in the air between them, tempting Marcus with what he couldn’t have.
“But you should know what you’re giving up if you don’t,” he said, using his free hand to pull Marcus’ head down to his, sucking Marcus’ bottom lip into his mouth before Marcus knew what was happening. Then he thrust his tongue in, and Marcus was lost.
He pulled Esca closer with the captured hand, his other arm wrapped around Esca’s waist until they were pressed flush, merged at the lips, chest, hips. Marcus groaned when the kiss deepened, letting go of Esca’s other hand to press his own against Esca’s strong jaw, rough with stubble.
Just when it started to get interesting, Esca pulled back, panting, giving Marcus a shove, wrenching them apart.
“Remember that when you sign your precious contract, you bloody coward. Because you won’t be getting it again. We’re through.” Esca turned and slammed open the stairwell door, which swung shut behind him with a clang, leaving Marcus panting and confused, his cock hard and his chest aching.
**
For all that Marcus saw him over the next few weeks, Esca might as well be gone again. Marcus felt like he should be grateful for the reprieve, but he just felt the loss more keenly.
He’d spent the time in a constant state of turmoil. He’d practiced as normal on Saturdays, but he didn’t see Esca when he left the ice. He must have been watching though, because by the time Marcus made it back up, Esca was on the ice. It was just as enthralling as it had been the previous week, watching Esca. And it was getting harder to leave.
Esca hadn’t said a single word to Marcus after their confrontation in the stairwell, and Marcus couldn’t really blame him. He couldn’t stop thinking about what Esca had said, about missed chances, about being true to himself, about missing out, and he felt the panic rising, day by day.
He began to rethink everything. Nothing was making sense anymore, and the taste of Esca’s second kiss lingered on his lips and tongue, bringing home the reality of what he was passing up. But then he would think about his father and the reality of his ambition and he felt like he’d been dropped into a tub of ice, shocked into the harsh truth of the hockey establishment.
He was being pulled in both directions, and he just couldn’t make any sense of it all. He needed help. Bad.
**
Marcus gathered up his courage and headed into the kitchen where his uncle was fixing an after dinner snack. He’d spent the last few hours watching Esca’s previous performances on YouTube, unable to stop himself and regretting having deleted everything from his dvr. He needed to see Esca, needed to have some kind of connection with him, despite the distance and their estrangement. He was heartsick, thinking about Esca. Thinking about the taste of his lips, the way he felt in Marcus’ arms. About the way he laughed, and his fiery intensity, everything about him made Marcus feel alive, the thought of spending a life devoid of Esca, even if he became the most successful NHL player ever, was something he was realizing he didn’t want.
What this meant for his future, he couldn’t fathom.
“Hey Uncle,” he said, slumping onto a bar stool, across the counter from where his uncle stood, now munching his nachos.
“Marcus my lad,” Uncle said, mouth half full of tortilla chips and cheese. “Are you hungry?”
“I’m feeling a bit sick to my stomach, actually,” Marcus said.
“Well, that won’t do,” Uncle said. “Are you ready to talk about it?”
“Yeah,” Marcus replied. “I need help.”
“Go on, then,” Uncle said.
So Marcus did, telling Uncle everything, from how meeting Esca had changed everything, had torn him away from his single minded determination to restore his family’s name, how he’d been struggling for years with feelings that he knew would make that very goal almost impossible. How hard it was to pretend to be something he wasn’t, to push aside feelings that threatened to overwhelm him. How he’d tried to date Cottia, not only to deflect Charlie from the idea that he was gay, but to try and feel normal, to convince himself that he could do it.
How he’d kissed Esca and then run, like a coward, and hidden. How Esca had confronted him at last, kissing him again before walking away, making Marcus realize what he’d done, what he was giving up.
“But I just don’t know what to do,” he said, his head in his hands. “I think I love him.”
“I think you do,” Uncle said, smiling sadly at him. “And I think you’ve done a damn good job of fucking it up.” Marcus glared at him.
“Thanks,” he said.
“Just telling the truth,” Uncle replied. “Although I think your reasons for behaving as you did are understandable, if a bit dramatic.”
“But what do I do?” Marcus asked.
“Well, that all depends on what your intentions are,” Uncle said.
“I want him back,” Marcus replied, pleading with his uncle for advice. “I’m tired of being afraid, of hiding myself. I don’t have the energy to keep it up, and I just don’t want to go on without him.”
“So are you going to come out then?” Uncle asked.
“I have to. Even if I never get another chance with him, this mess has taught me that when you lie to yourself and everyone else, things get messy. You can lose things you never knew you had.”
“Very wise,” Uncle said, patting Marcus on the hand. “Now the question is, how are you going to do it. Start telling people?”
“I don’t...no, I don’t think I can do that,” Marcus said. “It was hard enough telling you, and I knew you wouldn’t react badly.”
“Well I love you Marcus, as if you were my own son and not my brother’s. And to be perfectly honest, I already knew,” Uncle said, stuffing a few more chips into his mouth.
“You, what? How did you know?” Marcus asked, stunned.
“A father knows his son, and all things being equal, that’s what we are to each other,” Uncle said. “I’ve suspected since you were a young lad. Most people would see your obsession with hockey and assume otherwise, but I am not so easily fooled by what lies on the surface.”
“Wow, I don’t even know what to say to that. Why didn’t you say something?”
“You had to get there on your own. I knew what a tough spot you were in, the difficulties you were up against, so how could I make that decision for you?” Uncle said. “We each of us must find his own way.”
Marcus took a few moments to let it all sink in. Even after he had, he still didn’t know what to do, how to come out in the quickest, least painful way.
“So what now? I have no idea where to go from here,” he said at last.
“Well, I think you should play to your strengths. Use the things you excel at to achieve your goals,” Uncle replied.
“How is hockey going to help me come out?” Marcus asked incredulously.
“Hockey isn’t the only thing you’re good at, Marcus,” Uncle said. Marcus stared at him blankly.
“Writing,” Uncle clarified at last. “I’ve read a fair few of those essays you’ve written and I’d say you have as deft a hand with words as you do with a wrist-shot, if you put your mind to it. I think you should put something in writing, let it all hang out, as it were.”
“That way I would only have to do it once,” Marcus said, cluing in.
“Exactly.”
“The school has a paper, I bet I could convince them to publish something,” Marcus said. “Not everyone reads the school paper, but it would spread to everyone pretty quickly.”
“I’d imagine so,” Uncle said with a grin.
“I’ve got to go,” Marcus said, standing up and heading toward his room. He stopped on the threshold of the kitchen and turned back taking a few steps to wrap his uncle in a hug of gratitude.
“Thank you Uncle,” he said. “I’d be lost without you.”
“My sentiments exactly. Now go, make history.” Uncle pushed him toward the door, and Marcus went.
**
Marcus spent the next week trying to find the right words. The team was on another away trip, this one into Saskatchewan and Manitoba, so thankfully, they flew. Still, all his spare time was spent poking away at his phone, trying to put something eloquent and inspiring together. It was much more difficult than he’d imagined.
He wanted to get it done in time, to be published in the paper when Esca got back to school after the Four Continents Championship in Vancouver at the beginning of February. Which Marcus was also planning to be at, well, long enough to see Esca’s long program, anyway. Uncle and Stephan had made the arrangements, though they would have to leave almost immediately after Marcus got back, but it would be worth it.
Finally, he finished, reading it over and thinking it would just have to do. He double checked for errors and then attached it to an email he sent to the editor of the paper, from whom he’d extracted a promise of complete secrecy, until it was published.
His stomach knotted at the thought of what he was doing, knowing that things would never be the same afterwards. He might never be drafted, might never...but then he thought of never holding Esca again, never kissing him. Never seeing his smile turned in Marcus’ direction. Marcus shook his head. No, it wasn’t worth it, to have all his dreams come true but have no one there to share it with. No Esca to share them with.
And if his dreams didn’t come true, well, hopefully he’d have Esca beside him to remove the sting.
**
Marcus arrived home in time to have a shower, eat something and grab the bag his uncle had packed him, before climbing into Uncle’s SUV, bound for Vancouver. The drive was only an hour and a half long, getting them there in time to check into the hotel, change and get to the arena for the men’s long program. Esca would be skating last, as he’d placed first in the short program, and Marcus knew that by the time the others had finished skating, he’d be a bundle of nerves.
And he was. His first glimpse of Esca came when the skaters in the last group flooded the ice for some warm up. He was wearing the same outfit he’d worn when he’d won Skate America, the white with blue designs. He looked ethereal in it, and Marcus’ stomach was full churning with anticipation.
It seemed to Marcus that the other skaters took forever. There were ten in the group, and Esca was the last.
“Now I know why they call it the long program,” Marcus muttered under his breath, but Uncle heard him anyway.
“Patience,” he said, patting Marcus’ shoulder consolingly. “It won’t be long now.”
“That’s what you said half an hour ago,” Marcus said, and Stephan laughed.
“It’s times like this when I remember you are only seventeen,” he said, and Uncle laughed with him.
When Esca finally came out, Marcus feasted on the sight of him, unable to shift his eyes away, even for a second. Esca settled himself on the ice and when the music began, he moved with it, his movements, body and expressions telling the story that the music conveyed. Marcus hadn’t seen him perform this program since he’d won Skate America, and he soon decided that it was his favorite. Esca’s artistry and athleticism were displayed to their best, his jumps seemed higher, his spins faster and his footwork more precise than any other skater Marcus had seen that night.
When he finally stopped, slumping onto the ice in exhaustion, the roar of the crowd overwhelmed Marcus’ ears, but he still could not tear his eyes away from the boy on the ice, who was pulling himself up and brushing the ice off, waving to the crowd as bouquets rained down around him. He turned toward where Marcus and the others were seated, his eyes scanning the crowd as he waved his thanks.
Then he froze as he spotted them, his gaze meeting Marcus’ across the distance, but it didn’t matter to Marcus. It was the most he’d seen of Esca in weeks, and he was desperate not to lose it.
But Esca moved again, tearing his gaze away from Marcus and continuing around the rink, bowing and waving to the crowd. He didn’t turn their way again, instead leaving the ice and sitting in the waiting area to await his score.
It didn’t take very long, but Marcus was impatient, he knew Esca had to have won it, but he was still apprehensive. And then, there it was a 182.84, higher than any of the other long program scores, and Esca had been in the lead to begin with. Marcus leapt into the air, cheering like a lunatic, clasping his uncle in a hug of celebration. They weren’t the only ones cheering, the entire stadium was roaring with the elation of Esca’s win for Canada on home turf.
Esca jumped on to the ice and skated around a few more times, waving and cheering as young girls in frilly dresses buzzed around him in an attempt to collect all the flowers and stuffed animals that littered the ice surface. Esca accepted a bunch from one of them and kissed her on the cheek to renewed cheers from the crowd.
Marcus’ heart was pounding with love and excitement as he watched, but Esca never met his eyes again, avoiding the section of the arena they were in entirely. Marcus tried to convince himself that it didn’t matter, that he would win Esca back and this time, he would keep him, but it still hurt.
With one last long look at the jubilant skater on the ice, Marcus turned to his uncle and Stephan.
“Let’s go home.”
Part 3.2