Blue Flames (Yuzuru Hanyu)

Memories

Authors note: Happy Easter to all that celebrate it!! Spring break is coming to an end, meaning I won't be posting chapters as much as I do now but I'll update as much as I can!!

I honestly don't know how the timing of this story lines up bc shes 11 when she starts skating again, and now she's 13, the next Olympics (2022) she will be 16 because she's 12 during the 2018 games? Yeah, I think that's it. 

Warning: This chapter contains mention of attempted suicide, harmful thoughts, and cutting. If you feel triggered by any of those things you can just skip to the next chapter since this is just filler/backstory :)

I awoke to the blank white walls of a hospital room, the little sunlight that filtered through into the room dulled by heavy storm clouds. There was a window to my right, an IV in my arm. I've never really liked hospitals, squeaky floors, chemical smells and mint green hospital curtains. This hospital was different than the other one I've been too. The last time. I'm still drowsy with lingering exhaustion. I close my eyes and drift away again.

Memories/ backstory

I was a happy child, as most of us were. Not a care in the world. My early memories were blanketed in a soft golden haze. I had my mom, my dad, my older brother. I had no worries, went through life with a bubbly positive attitude. I skated a little back then, lessons and such. Life was simpler back then.

(cherry blossoms, dark brown ringlets, hello kitty skates)

Maybe I was a little too inquisitive. I think maybe I realized a little too soon how twisted this world really is. Crushing ideas and hopes and dreams. "You can only have these thoughts." They said to me, thinking that they were helping. Not realizing how small they made me feel. Alone and helpless, trapped on an island in the middle of the Pacific, not being able to swim.

(windblown hair, ripped jeans, wilted flowers)

I was eleven. Lost in a world that was far too big for anyone alone. I turned to cutting. A knife is solid and sharp. Maybe I felt grounded by it. Cut by cut. Until blood dripped, hot and sticky down my legs and into the shower drain. The pain was my coping mechanism. Dig the blade in too deep and the wound won't heal. Too light and you don't feel the sting. Long scars crisscrossed across my skin. Nobody helped me. I swallowed a handful of pills in the bathroom, sitting cross-legged and accepting my fate. And when they found me, a few minutes before I passed out, I only smiled at them. "You'll be better off without me."

(blood stains, blank eyes, empty smile)

I'm not sure if I needed reality to smack me in the face or what, but when I woke up in the hospital after all that, that's what it felt like. Maybe I didn't have to die. Maybe I should actually try, instead of being a coward. I honestly have no clue what occurred to me to change my mind. I still attended therapy after (obviously) but I promised myself I would try a little harder. That's when I found Yuzuru Hanyu. He captured my attention when I was scrolling mindlessly through my youtube feed. He was skating at the Sochi Olympics, and the moment I saw him skate, everything clicked. Honestly. I remembered those days when I went to the rink as a child, taking lessons and being overjoyed at the prospect of going to the rink. I wanted that. I knew that it would definitely be different this time. Some scars don't heal, mental or physical, but I knew that I had promised myself that Id try. And boy did I try. I was actually decent as a small child. Singles, scratch spins and bruised knees, and that's pretty much all I remembered. But when my crappy rental skates touched the ice, I knew it was meant to be. I mean I fell the moment I tried to move, being so frail and weak coupled with my fear of face planting played a role it that, but I started going to the rink religiously after that. I started to be happy, or at least somewhere close again. I was learning, and I was competing and I was healthy.

And here I am now, one month from nationals, lying in a hospital bed.