Icing Those Hurts (NOT MY STORY. READ DISC)

Part 34

When Tommy finishes running through his routine, he doesn't need to wait for his coach to say anything before he pulls himself back into starting position.

His coach, surprisingly, looks pleased with Tommy- with Tommy's initiative.

"Go on, snowflake, run through." And off Tommy goes. He's exhausted, achingly so, but not tired enough. Not yet.

He doesn't have his safety naps anymore. There isn't anyone waiting to pull him away, to cup a hand against the back of his neck and guide him to bed. There isn't anyone to watch his back while he rests or pull him into a hug, or just be with him. He's back where he started, alone and scared always, but now, he can't sleep. He's got to work to sleep- skate hard and hope that when his head hits the pillow, his body knocks him out.

His coach is happier, and Tommy is skating harder, so maybe it's good. Maybe this is how it should be. Maybe his hands are meant to tremble, maybe his chest is meant to be tight, maybe he's not meant for happiness.

He lands all the jumps and curls around and does his ending flourish- holding it for the music.

"Hold that." His coach says, and Tommy stays, his arms in the air, breathing heavily through his nose. It hurts. It aches. It burns . But Tommy doesn't dare move. And then, his coach comes out onto the ice, skating close, and Tommy doesn't dare breathe.

The coach circles him, looking close for any imperfections. "They'll be judging you from start to end. Everything matters." Tommy's heart feels like it's about to run out of his body. "I want straight lines. Stop shaking."

Tommy, who knows from Phil that the shaking is from lack of sleep, anxiety and not taking care of himself, wants to cry. He'd sleep if he could- he'd rest if he was allowed. He can't though, and he won't until this is all over. He won't be able to stop shaking until he gets gold.

His coach sighs, disappointed. "Hm. Not good enough. But, I suppose that this is the best you can give me." He skates around and slowly, slowly, backs off the ice. Tommy doesn't move, because he hasn't been told to.

"Take the night off, sweetheart," he says, and it's cruel, as he knows that Tommy's having a hard time sleeping. Having a hard time relaxing. Tommy wants to ask him to please, please, make me do another set, work me until I can't. Don't leave me to stare at my ceiling all night. "You don't deserve it, but because I'm so nice, I'll give it to you."

"Thank you," Tommy whispers, trembling, arms still above his head. Straight lines, he thinks, straight lines.

His coach turns away, grinning, and the second the doors shut, Tommy collapses. His knees hit the ice, and he bends in half, pressing his forehead to the solid coldness. He's struggling for breath, struggling to control the way his chest is rising and falling. His sweater feels like it's choking him- squeezing the life out of him.

He's dying, he's dying, and he can't decide if it's a bad thing or not.

The door opens, and a voice calls, "Tommy? Tommy? Are you here?"

Technoblade?

Tommy curls up tighter- he doesn't want anyone to see him like this. But of course there's nowhere to hide on the ice. Ever.

" Tommy?" Techno says again, sounding panicked. He hears the gate open, and suddenly the man is skidding out onto the ice, kneeling down at Tommy's side. A light, worried hand brushes the small of Tommy's back and Tommy wants to sob. "Tommy, Tommy, breathe, kid. Breathe."

Tommy knows he's being clingy, and needy, and doesn't deserve it- especially after ignoring them all week- but he reaches out and grabs Techno's hoodie, and immediately, once Tommy does, the man pulls him close, wrapping Tommy up in his arms.

"Techno," Tommy says, begs - for what, he doesn't know. "Techno, Techno, please."

"I'm here, Tommy. I'm here. Please, breathe."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he continues, pressing his face further into Techno's hoodie. He doesn't want the man to leave him here. He doesn't care anymore whether it's all fake, he just needs help. He doesn't need their care, he'll settle for their pity.

"You have nothing to apologize for," Techno says firmly, pulling Tommy in closer. "Nothing at all."

And under this reassurance, because Technoblade, for everything that's happened, has never lied to him, Tommy finally feels something inside of him, held back for years and years, cracks right down the middle and rushes out. It comes out in a flood of tears, near-silent and shaking, holding Technoblade like he's going to be peeled away.

Techno doesn't move the whole time- the ice must be cold and uncomfortable on his knees, and Tommy must be annoying the longer he goes on- but Techno never tells him to stop. He just rubs Tommy's back soothingly, and whispers reassurances that he's alright, they're both okay, and they will be okay.

Tommy cries himself out, sitting there in the man's arms. Maybe not all the way, as he's got a lifetime full of tears stored in his reserves, but just enough that he can finally breathe and school himself.

"Sorry," he sniffles, suddenly overwhelmed with shame. He unclenches his hand from where it's balled in Techno's hoodie. He wants to throw up when he sees the wrinkle left behind- there he goes, ruining yet another beautiful thing. "I didn't mean to- sorry. You need to go."

"Did I say that I needed to go?" Techno asks.

"No?" Tommy says hesitantly, too confused to see where he's going with this.

"Then I'm fine right here." He says firmly. "You need me here, you want me here, so I will stay. That is never too much to ask, or too much to give."

Tommy nearly starts crying again. He doesn't, but it's right there, just under the surface.

"Do you mean it?" He asks, because he has to. He saw the list. He saw the bet. He didn't see Techno's name, but still, he needs to know.

"Always." The man says, firm beyond anything. "I always did. I always will. And so do those knuckleheads, they're just fucking stupid. They've been a wreck this whole week, Tommy, thinking that they hurt you. That bet...I'll let them explain, but just know that we love you. I know you told us to leave, but I couldn't just- if you needed help-"

He stumbles a bit, and Tommy realizes that he doesn't need to hear more. It's real- it's been real.

"I do." He blurts, then clamps his hand over his mouth in shock. Techno stares at him.

"Sorry?"

Slowly, very slowly, Tommy peels his hand off his face. He takes a deep, deep breath. "I think that I do need some help. Sorry."

Techno softens. "Don't say sorry. Just let me help. I want to help. I'm going to help. That, I promise." Tommy's breath hitches again. Then Techno changes gears, brushing a hand through Tommy's hair. "You've been working, huh, kid?"

Tommy, finally something close to safe in his arms, droops. He's so tired. He's so, so, tired. He wants to drop fully. He can't, but God, he wishes he could. He wishes someone would catch him. "You haven't slept well since we last talked, have you?"

"Sorry," he whispers. Hesitantly, he recurls his trembling fingers into Techno's shirt. He thinks that's okay. He wants to hide here until it's all over. He doesn't want this anymore.

"It's not your fault, kid. Come on, Tommy." Techno says gently. "Let's get you to Sapnap, yeah? How does that sound? A little nap?"

Tommy looks up, eyes wide. "Please," he begs before he can stop himself.

"Alright, alright," Techno soothes. He lets go of Tommy to stand up, and then reaches down, offering his hand. Tommy takes it, and he laces their fingers together- Tommy's thin pale ones in Techno's tan strong ones. "Let's get off this ice."

Tommy can't follow him fast enough.