Icing Those Hurts (NOT MY STORY. READ DISC)

Part 28

Tommy is on the ice, and on the ice, and on the ice.

He does sits spins, and when he is told, he pulls his body into whatever shape looks the best. Distantly, he aches, but since it's distant, it's fine to ignore. Around and around and around, and when he pulls himself out of it because he can't take another second, his coach is the only thing he sees, scoffing.

"You used to be able to do many more revolutions than that," he says. "And then what happened? Go on, tell me."

It takes Tommy a bit to find his voice- he's losing it again. He only talks when he's on the ice. When he's told to. So now it's harder and harder for him to speak.

"I got distracted," he answers and his coach doesn't scoff or roll his eyes, so Tommy gleans that his answer was somewhat correct.

"And what is it that distracted you?"

Tommy doesn't have to think before answering this. "Other people."

" Friends, as you called them," he sneers. "They were the ones that distracted you from your goal. Pulling you around everywhere except where you needed to be. Do you really think any of them cared about you? Really?"

Tommy swallows. He's not supposed to answer. He's glad, because he still doesn't know which answer is correct- no and yes are fighting to win in his head. He just wants someone to tell him the right answer. He can't make the effort to decide for himself.

"No," his coach continues. "No, they didn't. Friends don't pull you away from what you've been working on your whole life. Friends don't stop you from doing the things that you know are right, in order to have fun. You are at the Olympics. You have a once in a lifetime opportunity. They are making you weak."

And Tommy believes him. How could he not? Before, he could be on the ice for hours and hours and feel nothing but his arms burning and his knees aching. Before, he could wake up and go to stretch and not think about anything else except his routine. Before, he was able to drift through life numbly and not need to take any extra time for things like being tired, or being anxious, or being sick. Before, all of that was just a mental hurdle that Tommy could clear easily.

Now though, even sitting here, listening to his coach- he's hungry, he's exhausted, he feels like his heart hurts. He's in pain, always. They taught him how to feel, gave him what they thought he was missing, and then they left him, made him realize all of it was fake- the pain and toil from that is a million times worse than if they just left him to be numb forever. At least then Tommy wouldn't know what he's missing, at least then Tommy wouldn't miss something he can't ever have again.

"This," his coach opens the gate, comes out onto the ice, "cannot happen again. It will not happen again. You don't get friends. If you want company, you must earn it. Even mine."

Tommy looks up sharply at that, panic seizing him. If his coach leaves him, if he decides that Tommy isn't worth all the hard work anymore, then what will he do? He can't skate on his own. All his success is his coach's. He's no one without him.

"Please," he says, speaking out of turn, but desperate. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

The coach raises his eyebrow slowly. More trembling apologies fall from Tommy's lips. After a moment of watching Tommy plead, he sighs loudly, cutting him off. He skates forward, then reaches out a hand, cupping Tommy's cheek.

Tommy holds his breath. He stays perfectly still. He doesn't know what his coach wants from him. If he hit Tommy, he wouldn't say anything. He knows that. They both know that. But would he really do that?

"You're weak again, little trophy," he says softly, and his tone, even though Tommy is terrified, makes him relax. "I'm going to build you back up. We've still got two weeks of pre-practice. You better be ready. There is a lot of ground to cover."

Tommy nods, and his coach pulls his hand away, satisfied. "Good boy. Alright. Go on now, give me the spin that I deserve."

Tommy moves.