Icing Those Hurts (NOT MY STORY. READ DISC)

Part 24

There's a reason why Tommy just does what he's told.

Everything, everything can always get worse.

"You've been slacking," His coach says. "Give me a triple lutz."

Immediately, Tommy moves, not letting himself think twice. He pulls around the ice, builds speed and leaps into the air, one-two-three rotations, land, balance. Breathe after. Always after.

"Slow," he's told. "All that time spent snow tubing, I bet."

Tommy stiffens.

"Yeah, I bet you thought I didn't know. You think that I'm an idiot? Are you running around here thinking that I'm not watching you throw yourself away? You're at the Olympics and you're acting like you're back home, in the middle of nowhere." He spits. "What a waste."

Tommy pauses on the ice, lowering his gaze, waiting for further instruction. He wasn't told to move, so he doesn't. He wasn't told to respond, so he doesn't. He just listens.

"All these distractions- hockey players and spending time taking naps and playing games," he growls. "Double salchow. Now."

Tommy moves.

He gains speed around the rink, then- backward right edge, turn three, take off, arms in position, to catch him when he lands on the ice.

He barely remembers to breathe after.

"Not enough height."

Of course, Tommy thinks. He felt that. He was low. He wasn't- it wasn't good. Not good enough.

"You see what having friends does to you, snowflake? You want to dance around on the ice and lose my points at the Olympics?" He asks, and Tommy can feel tears, from deep inside him, building. "No. Absolutely not. You are mine. Your points are mine. Your jumps are mine. Don't you dare forget it. I am the only one who wants you the way that you are."

Tommy presses his fingers against his sides, straight lines, just to keep himself from pressing them against his burning eyes.

"You're not coming off that ice until you remember why we're here. And since we're off arena, no one will interrupt looking for their rink time. Here is where you are and here is where you will stay." He says. Tommy's heart sinks.

In anticipation, his legs already burn. It's mental, he knows. Pain is mental, but- God. Confined to the ice. Chained to victory. How is he supposed to live like this?

"Triple Lutz double toe loop combination," He demands. "Three of them. If you fall, start over. I only want to hear from you when you're done. Then I'll tell you what's next."

Tommy opens his mouth, but then closes it. He doesn't want to hear anything, Tommy was told not to speak-

His coach smirks. "Go on, snowflake. Thank me."

"Thank you, coach." Tommy whispers, head low. "Thank you."

He hums, self satisfied, and waves Tommy off. Of course, Tommy goes.

He does his first three, then goes through his short skate routine, then another three, and by then, Tommy wants to pass out on the ice. He can't, of course, but what he can do is think, Jesus, is anything worth going through this? Isn't it just easier to obey?

If he didn't have friends, then he wouldn't be in this situation, he thinks, spots dancing across his vision as he goes for another jump. He doesn't really know why he's practicing these, because they're not in any of his routines. Just a punishment, he supposes.

Does he really deserve it?

No, a voice in his head goes. It sounds like Technoblade. It sounds like Wilbur. It sounds like George and Quackity and Schlatt and Sapnap. No. You don't deserve that. You deserve so, so, much more.

When he skates around, waiting for more instructions, his legs burn and his mind is distant. His coach is talking, telling him how he should just listen and do what he's told and he wouldn't have to work as hard, and Tommy realizes that he just might believe his coach if not for the fact that the happiness that hockey team and those snowboarders give him is more than anything. He can't be doing the wrong thing by being happy.

His hands, clasped behind him, find the bruise just to the side of the small of his back. Without thinking of it, he presses down on it, and the pain is just a slight ache, just enough to clear his mind.

He was happy when he got this mark. He was dizzyingly happy. He can't remember the last time he was so joyous. His coach has no idea. Has not a single clue about this mark or how they make him feel- how when he isn't on the ice, he's warmer than ever, draped in hockey clothing like he belongs. Fed and rested and warm.

His coach can say that Tommy shouldn't have them, but he doesn't have the right. Tommy will endure anything to keep them. As long as they want him, Tommy will fight to stay, and that's something his coach can't take from him.

-

a/n-

the reason that these chapters are so inconsistent with the sizes is because of how i'm doing it with the chapters. in the Ao3 version, at the end of each part, there is a line and then the next part. no chapters, so i'm trying to mimic that in a way that would translate into chapters. (hopefully my last a/n. sorry to get in the way of this lovely work of art)