Edge of the Rink: Where Pride Meets Passion | jakehoon

14

Third Person Pov

The rink was quieter than usual, the atmosphere heavy with tension. Sunghoon arrived early, trying to shake off the conversation with his parents. Their disapproval hung heavily on his shoulders, and the pressure felt suffocating.

As he laced up his skates, he tried to focus, but the expectations and whispers online loomed large. The chill of the rink did little to calm his racing thoughts.

Jake arrived shortly after, his usual cheerful demeanor slightly subdued. Sunghoon noticed the change, sensing that the encounter with the fans had affected him too.

"Hey," Jake greeted, forcing a smile. "Ready to practice?"

Sunghoon nodded, but his mind was elsewhere. As they began their routine, the rhythm felt strained. Each lift seemed heavier, and the chemistry they had worked hard to build was faltering.

"Sunghoon, you okay?" Jake asked, noticing his partner's distracted expression.

"I'm fine," Sunghoon replied curtly, his voice clipped. "Let's just focus."

Jake tried to push through, but the atmosphere felt charged with unspoken anxiety. As they attempted a complicated lift, Sunghoon's grip faltered, and Jake stumbled, nearly falling.

"Careful!" Sunghoon snapped, frustration bubbling to the surface. "We can't afford mistakes like that."

Jake's eyes widened, surprise and hurt flickering across his face. "I'm trying, Sunghoon. What's going on with you today?"

"Nothing," Sunghoon replied coldly. "Just focus on your part."

Jake's chest tightened, the harshness in Sunghoon's voice cutting deeper than he expected. They continued to practice, but the whole situation felt strained, the tension thick enough to cut through.

After another failed attempt at a lift, Jake stopped, breathing heavily. "This isn't working. We need to talk."

Sunghoon sighed, irritation flashing in his eyes. "There's nothing to talk about. We need to practice."

"Not like this," Jake insisted, frustration creeping into his voice. "You're pushing too hard, and it's not helping."

"I have to push hard!" Sunghoon shot back, his voice rising. "This competition is everything, and I can't afford to let anyone down."

Jake stared at him, a mixture of anger and understanding in his gaze. "This isn't just about the competition, is it? What's really going on?"

Sunghoon looked away, jaw clenched. The pressure from his parents, the public's expectations—it all felt overwhelming. But admitting that felt like a weakness he couldn't afford.

"It's nothing," he said quietly.

Jake stepped closer, his expression softening. "You don't have to go through this alone, Sunghoon. We're a team."

For a moment, Sunghoon considered opening up, letting Jake in. The fear of vulnerability held him back, and the familiar walls he had built around himself felt impenetrable. Instead, he turned away, his voice cold. "Just focus on skating, Jake."

Feeling a sting of disappointment, Jake watched as Sunghoon skated away, the distance between them more significant than the stretch of ice. The earlier warmth felt like a distant memory, replaced by an icy barrier that neither knew how to break.

As they continued to practice in silence, the tension remained palpable. Sunghoon pushed himself harder, but every movement felt heavy with the burden of his unspoken fears. Each spin and jump blurred together, the routine that once brought him joy now overshadowed by the weight of expectation.

After practice, Jake called out softly, breaking the silence. "Sunghoon, I'm here if you need to talk. I know things are tough right now, but shutting me out isn't the answer."

Sunghoon's gaze softened for a brief moment before the familiar mask slipped back into place. "I appreciate it, but I need to handle this on my own."

With that, he turned away, leaving Jake standing alone on the ice. Frustration and sadness washed over Jake as he watched Sunghoon walk out, the door closing with a finality that echoed in the empty space.

As Jake packed up his gear, he couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment. He had hoped their partnership would be more than just skating; he had hoped for friendship, for trust. But today, it felt like they were back to square one, with walls built higher than ever.