Archive of Our Own

It begins in PyeongChang. He’s standing under the shower, his body weary and aching but for the first time since his injury, there is a satisfaction in the tiredness and pain, a sense of a job well-done, a goal achieved. He’s… not quite happy, no, but he can say all the things he’s done, risked and given up to get this – his second Olympic gold – were worth it.

Then he remembers Javi. Javi telling him that he will be retiring, that this was their last competition together. Javi leaving. The emptiness he feels at the thought of a Javi-less future is shockingly deep. He may have succeeded at pushing away his feelings, silenced that nagging knowledge that has resided in the back of his mind for almost as long as he has been training at the Cricket Club, stomped out the emotions so as to allow himself to focus on his goals and dreams… but it is still there. He’s in love with Javi. He knows this, has known this for years. And now it’s too late.

His chest seizes up uncomfortably, a sharp, sudden pang that makes Yuzu clutch at himself. He leans against the shower wall, fighting against the familiar shortness of breath, against the burning in his lungs. His asthma hasn’t flared up in months. He tells himself to stay calm, and inhales as deeply as he can, counting to four, listening for the tell-tale wheezing sound. It’s not there but his lungs still feel tight. Just breathe, he tells himself, and breathe he does, even though his eyes water with the effort, salt mingling with the water from the shower.

Eventually, his chest eases. He coughs – an irritation rising up his throat, as if he had swallowed something scratchy. One, two, three coughs – and then it’s gone, a tiny drop of red swirling down the drain. Yuzu stares at it, thinks of the cherry tomatoes he had eaten earlier, trying to remember if he had accidentally inhaled a tiny piece.

He can’t remember. But his lungs feel fine now as he steps out of the shower, rubs himself dry, and heads to bed, sparing a glance for the gleaming medal sitting on his bedside table. When he closes his eyes and falls asleep, Yuzu dreams of Javi.

*

“I’ll miss you,” Yuzu whispers when he and Javi hug, the last day of the Fantasy on Ice shows.

Javi smiles into the hug, Yuzu can feel it against the crook of his neck where Javi has rested his jaw. “I’ll miss you, too, Yuzu,” he says, and there’s a tiny tremble in his voice but that’s it. Yuzu can tell how happy Javi is to be heading home to Spain, to the sunshine and beaches and friends and – his girlfriend. Yuzu had met her, briefly, in Korea – she has a bright smile, and kind eyes, and Yuzu could almost trick himself into thinking that he’s truly happy for Javi… until he remembered that this is something he’ll never have, Javi’s arm around his waist or shoulders like that, not in a casual friendly gesture but one of belonging, of togetherness.

“But I’ll come visit, don’t worry,” Javi is saying, and Yuzu almost doesn’t notice the pain, or rather he assumes it’s just his poor heart, faced with the fact that this is it, that he’ll never have this again, or at least not until next year’s shows, and even so… it will be different.

“I’ll be waiting,” Yuzu mutters, and Javi laughs, a bright, beautiful sound that eases the odd tension spreading through Yuzu’s chest, then begins to tingle into his limbs, like anxiety, but not quite.

Then Javi is gone, well and truly gone, and Yuzu is alone. He doesn’t know what to do, now, without Javi.

*

In the end, Yuzu does the only thing that he can think of, the thing that comes as naturally as breathing. He skates. It is not the same, without Javi, the club feeling oddly subdued without his cheerful charisma. But it is comforting, the familiar grind of daily practices, the sensation of blades on ice, the exhilaration of a jump well-landed. It still hurts, landing jumps, and he wonders if it will ever stop hurting, but it is a mild kind of pain by his standards. He can deal with it.

As long as he can skate, he is going to be fine. And for a while, he is, letting himself get caught up in the process – creating new programs, discussing music, costumes, choreography. He suggests to Jeff that they change the entrance for his quad sal, like Javi’s quad sal, he explains – Jeff looks at him, and smiles, and opens his mouth to say something, but clearly changes his mind halfway through because he only nods and says okay, with a little pat to Yuzu’s back.

It’s the quad sal that betrays Yuzu, that one day in practice – he falls, and falls, and falls, and there’s no one to give him a hand up, or poke him until he laughs. He stops after his fifth fall, choosing to be a little wise. He picks himself up off the ice, and looks up, his eyes finding the familiar red and yellow of the Spanish flag almost by instinct.

He doesn’t realize that he has been standing there, staring, for a good minute or two until Brian skates up to him.

“Yuzu?” he asks, and Yuzu tears his eyes away from the flag, blinking at Brian’s concerned face. “Is everything alright?”

“I just miss Javi,” the words tumble out before he can stop himself, and he blushes, but Brian only smiles.

“Aww,” he says, and pats Yuzu’s arm. “We all do.”

Yes, Yuzu wants to say, we all do, it’s perfectly normal, but suddenly it’s hard to breathe, it’s hard to focus on anything but the ache inside his chest. “I take a break,” he gasps, and Brian gives him a curious glance, opens his mouth to ask – again – if Yuzu is fine, but Yuzu doesn’t wait for him, because his eyes are stinging and he is not going to cry in the middle of a session like this, not with some of the juniors there today. He is supposed to be a role model, the senior one now that Javi is gone…

And oh god, it hurts, to think of Javi, and think of all the pictures of Javi on beaches that Yuzu has seen on Javi’s Instagram. Javi is looking happy and golden and in love with his girlfriend, and Yuzu should know better than to be envious but he is – sad and envious and lost and missing Javi so, so much.

He stumbles into the restroom and splashes water on his face, but his breath is still coming in short, pathetic wheezes, and Yuzu wonders where his inhaler is – in his bag in the locker rooms, he knows that, and the monitor strapped to his chest should have warned him if this is an asthma attack and –

He coughs, straining over the sink, eyes closed and tears slipping out, and then it’s over, just a dull ache inside his lungs, a slight burn inside his throat. He blinks the tears away, takes a cooling sip of water, then closes the tap and goes back to practice.

He’ll get that sal. It’s his tribute to Javi, and he’ll be damned if he can’t jump it properly.

*

It is as if the world conspires against him. He jumps – and lands, except not well, and he knows the sickening snap inside his ankle for what it is even as he stands up and skates up to Brian, pretending that he’s fine, he’s fine. He can’t fool Brian and Ghislain, of course not, but he can fool the cameras and the fans, hopefully. He can’t let them down.

And so he skates, his leg numb from the painkillers by the time he finishes his freeskate, but it’s enough, he knows it, he’s done enough, and even if it wasn’t perfect, he accepts the congratulations and the praise from Tarasova-san, the clap on his back from Evgeni. It is enough. It has to be.

He’s back at the hotel when his phone rings, and his gut twists when he sees the small icon bobbing up on his screen. Javi. They texted here and there but Javi doesn’t call him, not usually, and Yuzu never has been one to initiate phone calls. Especially not now, now that Javi is safely ensconced in his new life, at the start of his happily ever after, perhaps, in Spain.

“What were you thinking?!” Javi snaps from the other end of the line the moment Yuzu picks up, and it’s so good to hear his voice – angry as it is, dripping with the Spanish accent that always comes through more strongly when Javi gets emotional – that Yuzu just sits there on the bed, speechless, his heart pounding, and doesn’t say anything.

“Yuzu?” softer, now, concerned.

“Hai,” Yuzu says dumbly, and smiles, forgetting for a second about the throbbing pain in his bandaged ankle, or about the fact that he’s injured himself again. He’s missed Javi.

“You should not have skated,” Javi says. “I can’t believe you did, Yuzu, you stubborn, stupid – “ Javi stops there, and draws a deep exasperated breath. Yuzu imagines him, rubbing at his face with his large hand. Javi sighs. “I – I watched you and I knew you were injured the second you stepped on the ice. It was scary, Yuzu.”

“I had to do it,” Yuzu says quietly, and it’s true, he had to, otherwise he would have disappointed everyone… Himself most of all.

Javi sighs again. “How bad is it?” he asks after a pause.

Yuzu feels a warm stirring inside his stomach, he cares he cares he cares! his heart thrums. He stomps it out. It’s pointless. Javi cares… but the way one cares for a friend, the way Javi cares for everyone, ever the kind one.

“Like last year. A little better,” he admits, and Javi gasps at the other end of the line.

“Mierda,” Javi hisses, and Yuzu feels a smile tug at the corner of his mouth once again, because Javi had taught him that word, thinking it would be funny to have Yuzu use it around Raya. He had been right. Raya had stared at Yuzu, scandalized, when Yuzu had fallen on his ass in front of him during a practice, and cursed in Spanish before dissolving into giggles, Javi’s laugh echoing from a bit further down the rink.

“It will be fine,” Yuzu says. That is what he is telling himself. “I can get back for Nationals.”

“Yuzu,” Javi starts, and Yuzu imagines the doubtful expression, the near eye-roll. Then Javi just sighs. “Please be careful,” he adds gently.

There’s something about his tone that makes Yuzu ache. “I will,” he says, suddenly very aware of his own frailty, now that Javi has addressed it. “I have to go,” he mumbles quickly because he can feel the emotion well-up inside him, and Javi can’t know what he does to Yuzu, not when he is living his life, their connection that had always felt a bit special a thing of the past. It wouldn’t be fair, even though Yuzu feels like he will choke if he doesn’t let the words out, if he doesn’t tell Javi. It’s so hard without you. I miss you every day. I think I love you. I know I do.

It would be foolish, and so he hangs up, tossing his phone onto the bed, then falling against the cushions. And there it is again, the gaping shortness of breath, the urge to cough. He reaches for his inhaler on the bedside, and inhales, exhales, inhales, then waits for the relief…

It never comes. His chest hurts. His throat feels aflame and so he coughs, loud, aching coughs that rack through his entire body. He curls onto himself, pain in his ankle and pain in his lungs, burning, impossible to ignore.

He feels like he’s going to choke, and he grabs for his phone – call mom, call the doctor! – but then his whole body convulses with one last spasm, one last coughing fit… and he can breathe again, even if it still hurts.

Yuzu blinks away the moisture from his eyes. And stares.

There is a petal – or rather a small smattering of them. Stark crimson against the white sheets on the hotel bed, crumpled, covered in saliva.

There is a petal, and it has dislodged from somewhere inside him, and even though a part of him can hardly believe this, a part of Yuzu knows. He’s watched enough anime, and read enough manga, after all, to know what this is. He just never thought that… that it could be real.

Equal parts fascinated and terrified, he picks up one of the petals, unfolding it, gross as it is in its current state. It’s from a bloom he recognizes instantly – he has bought bouquets of carnations plenty of times for his mom on Mother’s Day over the years. The meaning he associates with the flower does not quite align with this, though, and so he reaches for his phone to search the internet. It occurs to Yuzu that maybe flower meanings should not be his top priority right now, but he needs to know… and maybe a flower meaning is an easier thing to wrap his head around than the fact that he, somehow, seems to have developed the Hanahaki disease.

It doesn’t take him long. In the West, red carnations stand for deep love, while yellow stand for rejection – Yuzu lets out a mirthless laugh at that; shouldn’t he be coughing up yellow petals, in this case, then? They are also Spain’s national flowers, he learns, and closes his eyes at that, then sets his phone aside, lying down on his back.

He should be looking up facts, he knows. Come up with a plan. He always makes a plan, and sticks to it, that is his weapon. But maybe that can wait until tomorrow, Yuzu thinks, suddenly acutely aware of the battered state of his body – and the state of his heart. If the manga and anime are anything to go by, he is dying, the flower taking root inside his lungs on a slow mission to kill him. But all Yuzu can think about, and the thing he is worried about most, is Javi. Yuzu knows that if Javi found out, well, he would try to help, he might even try to convince himself – and Yuzu – that he loves him back. Worse still, Javi would probably blame himself. There is only one solution to that, Yuzu concludes as he slowly lets his weariness draw him towards sleep. Javi can never know.

*

It is useful, in the end, to have the ankle as an excuse. Yuzu hates it… but it makes things easier. It gives him time. Time to research, to understand, unearth the few scientific studies buried beneath a mountain of lore and romantic fiction. The ankle gives him a reason to take himself to Japan instead of Canada, so he can avoid his official medical team.

Instead, when he is home, he calls on Kikuchi-san. He has trusted the man with his body for years, and he trusts him now, confident that he will know where to point Yuzu, even if he can’t fix his lungs.

“I have a delicate issue,” Yuzu tells Kikuchi once they are sipping tea from Kikuchi’s traditional set, seated in his home this time rather than in the office Yuzu had always visited in the past. Kikuchi-san really meant it when he retired, Yuzu realizes, and watches as Kikuchi raises his eyebrows with that curiosity he has always had. “I was hoping you might know someone who could help.”

“I may be retired, Yuzu-kun, but do you really think I am incapable already?” Kikuchi teases, and Yuzu blushes. The old man laughs, though, and waves his hand to indicate that Yuzu should go on.

“It’s not that,” Yuzu mumbles, still embarrassed. “But this issue, it’s not quite… it’s internal,” he says, and watches Kikuchi’s eyebrows rise another fraction. “I don’t think stretching will help with it,” he adds, and is grateful for the short laugh this earns him, feeling a bit more at ease.

“Do tell me, then,” Kikuchi prompts.

Yuzu draws a breath. He doesn’t notice his automatic gesture until he feels his palm press against his chest. He drops it, feeling a bit silly. “It’s… Have you ever heard of the Flower Disease, Kikuchi-san?”

Kikuchi doesn’t laugh. His eyes widen and his mouth drops open slightly, and Yuzu knows that he knows – that this is real, that this exists. He is both relieved and somehow… disappointed. He had half expected to be told that the Hanahaki disease is exactly what most of the internet seems to think – a trope, a fantasy, a useful tool to make love stories dramatic. Maybe he had even hoped Kikuchi would tell him that he is probably mis-diagnosing himself, that this is something else.

But Kikuchi looks at him, dead-serious, and asks: “You do not have it, do you, Hanyu-kun?”

Yuzu hangs his head. Hears the alarmed noise Kikuchi makes. “Do you know someone who could help?” he asks, then looks up, determined to face this head on. It’s not like he can do anything else. He can’t ask Javi for help, that is for sure, no matter how much he may want to.

It would be such a relief. To go to Javi. Get lost in that embrace, inhale Javi’s scent – a little sweet, a little spicy, but mostly warm. Enjoy the warm glow in his stomach, the happiness of being together… forget the knowledge that it is this, his love for Javi, that is slowly killing him from the inside. Yuzu would love that, and his heart aches just thinking about it, about seeing Javi, hearing Javi, being close to him. But he can’t. And he won’t. He has been able to ignore his feelings for years… and he is strong enough to ignore them now, too.

Kikuchi nods, breaking Yuzu out of his melancholy. “There is a doctor, a good friend of mine,” he says. “She can be trusted,” he adds before Yuzu can even open his mouth, somehow anticipating the concern. Then: “Does your mother know?”

 Yuzu shakes his head, slowly.

Kikuchi sighs, nods, then sits in contemplative silence for a few heartbeats. “Does he know?” he asks then, smiling a little at the face Yuzu makes. Yuzu stares at him, shock mingling with grateful relief when he finds no disgust in Kikuchi’s face, no judgement.

“Fernández-san, isn’t it,” Kikuchi then says, though, and somehow it is not a question. Yuzu’s hands begin to shake, the panic sudden and intense.

“I – How?!” he stammers. This was – it was always a secret. He has kept it tucked away so carefully, even from Javi, keeping his feelings hidden away so they wouldn’t get in the way, wouldn’t show too much…

Kikuchi gives Yuzu another of his small smiles. “I may be old, Yuzu-kun, but I am not blind,” he tells him, then his expression turns serious. At Yuzu’s stricken face, he goes on: “I know you very well and have been around you and Javier-san many times. I do not think everyone noticed the things I did,” he reassures, then pauses before adding “It’s not my place to say, but you should talk to him.”

“He can’t know,” Yuzu gasps, his heart in his throat.

To his relief, Kikuchi nods. “I will not say anything, Yuzu-kun,” he says, but he sounds sad as he does so. Yuzu has to bite his lip to stop himself from crying. “Let me call my friend.”

 *

Sasaki-san does not tell him much Yuzu didn’t already know.  She is a cordial woman, with white-peppered hair and a genuine air about her, and she chats at him while she inspects his throat, then X-rays his chest, trying to keep him at ease.

“The blooms are fairly small, still, as you can see here” she tells him later, pointing out the dark stains of them on the X-ray. “That is good, it means that your attacks are likely to stay few and far-between for another while, though they will get worse as the flower matures.”

She flips forward to the second image. “Now, the root-system…,” she says, tracing the white lines threaded through the black of his lungs with the pen she is using as a pointer. “It is quite developed already,” she goes on, stating the obvious. It is an awful sight, and a beautiful one at the same time. Yuzu looks at it, curious fascination warring with the sheer terror he has been trying hard to keep at bay. “This has been growing for at least a couple of years, probably longer,” Sasaki-san tells him, and Yuzu thinks of Shanghai, of how Javi had beaten him at Worlds for the first time, of how confusing it had been to feel so miserable – and so proud, so happy, at the same time. He had realized he was in love then. But had he loved Javi before that already? Probably. Certainly. “The good news is, it is not too late for a removal surgery.”

Yuzu thinks of it. Of what he has read, of what Sasaki has confirmed. It is a safe-procedure, physically speaking, performed under full anesthesia. They would open his chest, a small incision. They would cut the root-system, then medicate him to help the plant decompose as it dies off inside him. Yuzu has had worse, surgery-wise. It is the other side of things that scares him.

Slowly, he nods, thinking. Of his family. Of the rest of the season. Of Worlds. Of the quad Axel. Of the Beijing Olympics. “Will I be able to skate with this?” he asks.

Sasaki snorts. “Hanyu-san,” she says. “You should be asking if you will be able to live with this, and for how long.”

Yuzu looks at her, shrugs. “Skating is my life,” he says simply.

She stares at him, her dark eyes boring holes into him. Yuzu is good at staring, though. Eventually, she looks away, shrugs. “It will get worse faster if you do, I assume. There is no medication I can give you to slow the plant’s progress, but we can control the symptoms. It is quite similar to treating asthma, actually, which I take you are familiar with?”

Yuzu nods.

“Yes, so – the idea is to open-up and soothe the bronchi, so that you will be able to breathe more easily even if – when – blooms do form. It will still be painful,” Sasaki warns, then goes on when Yuzu acknowledges the piece of information with a small nod, “and as you can imagine, the overall process of the blooms leaving your body can be unpleasant, like choking, or vomiting, as I trust you’ve already experienced to some degree.”

Again, Yuzu nods, remembering the burning sensation, the way his body seized up over a mere few petals.

“It will tire you out,” Sasaki says carefully. “What that will mean for your competitive shape… I am not sure.”

Yuzu is not sure either. But he figures that if he has been able to cope with asthma, skate with it… “Is there any way to control when the attacks happen,” he asks. His hopes are not high, but still he deflates a little when Sasaki shakes her head.

“Hanyu-san, I would recommend to plan for the extraction surgery as soon as possible,” she tells him. Then she seems to consider something. “Unless, of course, you think there is… a reason to wait. A hope.”

He wants to say no. Tell her that there is no point in waiting, that Javi does not – will not, cannot – return his feelings.  And yet… The idea of losing everything he’s feeling, everything he’s ever felt for Javi, as the plant is cut out of him, makes Yuzu’s very soul quiver. There is a high chance he would lose all of his memories of Javi, too. Who would he be, then, without them? How would he skate? How would he live? He shudders, wiping the cold sweat off of the back of his neck.

“How much time do I have?” he asks. “Until it’s too late for the surgery?”

“You know I cannot guarantee an exact period?” Sasaki-san asks, folding her hands in her lap. When Yuzu nods, she takes out a pair of wire-rimmed glasses out of her breast-pocket and, setting them onto her nose, studies the X-rays on her screen another while, zooming in and out, adjusting the settings of the images… “Three years at the absolute best, with medication and care,” she says. “If you strain it – if you skate – perhaps eighteen months?”

A year-and-a-half. It is not much. Not enough. But even if it was five years, or ten… it still wouldn’t be enough, Yuzu thinks, his hand straying to his chest. There will never be enough time to make peace with the idea of losing Javi… again. Forever.

 *

The ankle is both better and worse than previous year. Better because the injury was not as bad this time around, worse because the ankle already was in miserable condition before. The feeling when he finally steps on the ice again is the same, though. Exhilaration… and endless frustration as he works his way through some basic skating, telling himself to be patient.

By the time Javi comes back to Cricket to train for Europeans, Yuzu dares to jump doubles, but not much more yet. This time, though, seeing Javi there to train is not hard to watch. It’s a relief.

It is a relief from the moment Javi first appears at the club, throwing out smiles and waving his greetings at everyone. It is a relief when Javi makes a beeline for Yuzu, and after a split-second of hesitation, opens up his arms in invitation, like nothing has changed, even though everything has.

Yuzu wonders if maybe he should not, if this is a bad idea, if staying away and keeping his feelings about Javi neatly pushed back to some distant corner of his mind would be the smarter strategy. If Sasaki is right, him trying to ignore what he feels for years may have stopped the plant inside his lungs from blooming sooner - and maybe if he keeps doing that, it will be slower, his inevitable tumble towards his demise… or the destruction of all this warm, glowy sense of affection and rightness.

But he can’t, he can’t possibly do this, pulled as he is into that embrace by some invisible force, and it’s all messy, all this, it has been since the Olympics and his realization that he has missed all the chances… if there ever had been any. It’s messy, the bright-red petals he chokes out every once in a while now. It’s messy, the way his heart leaps at the very sight of Javi. The way his body tenses and convulses for a completely different reason, at night when he can’t help but imagine Javi with those large hands on his skin, finding and exploiting every single one of the spots that make Yuzu’s toes tingle and curl in pleasure.

And so he falls into Javi’s arms, smiling like he hasn’t in months, and when Javi is the first one to say, in a joy-infused voice, “I missed you,”, Yuzu’s heart swells so much he’s worried his chest will burst.

Then Javi’s hand is on his face, a gentle brush, a concerned look in his eyes. “How’s the ankle?” Javi asks.

“You’ll see,” Yuzu teases, feeling light and buoyant, even despite all the things dragging him down.

He lands his first triple halfway through the session, and even if it sends a shiver of pain through his foot, he feels giddy, doubly so when he sees Javi smile and clap for him from the other side of the rink.

He coughs out a whole fistful of petals that evening, but there is no blood on them - Sasaki-san had said that as long as they don’t come up bloody, he’s relatively safe - and either way, it’s worth it. Who knows how many opportunities he’ll still have to spend time with Javi?

*

They fall into a routine. It’s comfortingly the same… and yet refreshingly different, now that they are not training to compete against one another. Javi seems even gentler than Yuzu remembers. There are the little touches that they’ve always shared, the encouragement as they each struggle with their own challenges. But there’s also Javi touching the small of his back as Yuzu is exiting the ice, as if afraid Yuzu might trip and fall. There’s Javi being early when their sessions do not overlap, standing by the boards, sipping his coffee and watching Yuzu run through his cool-down. And then there’s Javi asking him if he wants to grab a tea at the cafeteria, and Yuzu saying yes for once, even though he doesn’t usually linger at the club after his training.

There’s Javi bringing him his green tea, winking to say that he got Kathleen to give him the good one, and Yuzu laughs because there is only one kind of tea at Cricket and it is a little atrocious, and Kathleen probably pulled Javi’s leg. But it’s fine, he’s not really there for the tea, but rather for Javi, his eyes bright as they collide with Yuzu’s, and then a little melancholy as he talks about the upcoming European Championships, his last ones.

It’s beautiful, and soothing, and exciting, and Yuzu can’t believe he spent so many years - subconsciously or not - pushing Javi aside a little bit, for the sake of his success. He thinks of his PyeongChang gold, and all the things he has sacrificed for it, and while it still gives him a strong sense of satisfaction, knowing that he has won it and made his country proud, he begins to wonder if maybe there would have been another way… a way to keep a smidge of this kind of happiness, let his friendship with Javi blossom into something beyond their time on the ice. It would have been nice, it is nice, even if Javi will never feel quite the same as Yuzu does about him.

The one time Yuzu starts coughing desperately when Javi is with him, bent over double as they are walking through the parking lot side by side, it is both terrifying - because Javi can’t know, can’t see! - and soothing, Javi’s warm palm rubbing up and down his back, Javi pulling him close and supporting him as he doubles over, gasping for air, asking him in a panicked voice where his inhaler is and should he call someone?!

“No, no,” Yuzu gasps out, and covers his mouth, turning away from Javi, tears in his eyes. A single petal comes up – a light attack, then – and Yuzu quickly squeezes his palm into a fist to hide it, tucking his hand into his pocket.

“Is your asthma worse?” Javi asks, wide-eyed and cupping Yuzu’s chin in his hands, searching his face.

“Acts up a little,” Yuzu whispers, and forces a smile, even though his lungs feel full of needles.

It’s only later, once he’s safely in the car with his mom, that he notices that there is a tiny smudge of blood inside his palm.

*

His skating gets better, the pain in his ankle easing. The pain in his lungs, however… By the time Javi is about to depart, the disease is flaring up every other day, and he knows he should be smart and stop, avoid Javi, stop thinking about him day and night… It would be responsible. And yet he can’t, indulging in every lingering embrace, basking in the joy of having the man who has been his pillar for years back, however temporarily. It’s blissful, and his heart rejoices even as his lungs wither inside him.

On his last day, Javi stops at the end of the session, leaning back against the boards, taking everything in. “I almost wish I could stay,” he says a little wistfully, then turns to Yuzu who is standing beside him, wiping his face with his Pooh-towel.

His gaze lingers on Yuzu’s face, and Yuzu wonders what Javi sees when he looks at him like this, with the odd softness in his eyes.

“You could,” Yuzu says, even though it would probably kill him in a span of months if Javi did, or push him to the surgery much sooner than he’d like, force him to excise the terrible growth from his body… and Javi from his heart, forever. So Yuzu forces himself to face the reality of things, at last, and adds: “Your girlfriend would miss you.”

Javi’s eyes widen a fraction, and then he ducks his gaze, laughs a bit breathlessly, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess,” he says, and Yuzu wonders if maybe he can die from this kind of pain, too, the kind that blooms inside his heart and soul.

“I see you at show?” he asks, torn between knowing what he should do… and what he wants to do.

“At the latest,” Javi says, and smiles, and pulls Yuzu into a hug that smells like everything Yuzu dreams of at night. “Take good care of yourself, Yuzu. I mean it,” Javi says, his breath warm against Yuzu’s neck, making his nerves tingle.

He nods, and swallows, keeping the tears at bay by sheer power of will.

*

Yuzu feels good. With Saitama Worlds to work up to, he has been able to focus on his skating, put Javi out of his mind a little bit. His lungs seize up less often, even though the petals falling out of his throat every time he does have an attack seem to increase in volume and size. He’s had a check-up with the specialist in Toronto Sasaki-san had put him in contact with, listened once again to a very vehement recommendation of scheduling the procedure sooner rather than later, then asked about the blood that he has noticed spattering his palms more often than not whenever the flower decides it needs out. There are little rips in the tissue of his lungs, the doctor had informed him, where the roots are tightening their hold around the organ. ‘Not critical…yet’ had been the conclusion.

And so, even though he is tired, Yuzu is confident. He feels good. He can win. Nothing will stop him from winning his title back in his home country.

Nothing except the quad sal, it seems, as he loses his focus on the take-off and ends up popping the quad into a double, instantly aware of what a cardinal mistake this is, of just how much of a gift he has just laid down at Nathan Chen’s feet. He’s trembling as he embraces his coaches, so disappointed in himself. He barely manages a weak smile for his fans in the Kiss & Cry.

The damn quad sal. Yuzu can’t get it out of his head during the press-conference, the ride back to the hotel, while he stands in the shower. It makes him think of Javi, and how he seems to have taken the secret to the jump along with Yuzu’s heart, and it is exhausting. He is slowly dying, and he is missing Javi so much he wants to cry, and on top of everything else, he has let everyone down.

He’s about to plop down onto the bed and rewatch his abysmal performance once again before crying himself to sleep, when his phone buzzes.

Ganbatte, Yuzu. Don’t give up, you are very strong. Hugs. It says, next to Javi’s little icon, and Yuzu is perched between gratefulness and frustrated anger, hating how much he needs this, loving that Javi is still there for him, even if they’re not training together anymore.

Then another message arrives, and Yuzu’s anger evaporates in an instant, replaced by a small smile. PS: You can have my quad sal for the free. Use it well. ;)

*

It’s not enough. Yuzu is sitting in his room once it’s all over, ice pack strapped to his ankle, the silver medal he has earned tossed somewhere in his bag along with the rest of his gear. He needs to train harder. Get the lutz back, get the flip, get the axel. His head buzzes with the frustration of the disappointment, but also with the thrill of a new challenge. So what if some days he feels like he has been hit by a freight-train, his chest heavy and tight, his body exhausted. It’s not new, suffering.

There is a knock on his door and Yuzu doesn’t want to open but he does, because there aren’t many people who know which room he’s staying in, and as such, it is most likely something important.

When he answers the door, though, it’s not who he expected at all, and he would be embarrassed by how his heart leaps inside his chest if he wasn’t so surprised. “Javi!” it comes out high-pitched and breathy, and Yuzu feels helpless faced with Javi’s smile. “You’re here!?”

Javi shrugs, amused, and Yuzu’s treacherous mind wants to jump to conclusions, the way it tends to do, losing all reason around Javi. He’s here for me, it wants to convince him, making him light-headed.

“Can I come in?” Javi asks, and Yuzu nods, moving out of the way to let Javi inside his room. “I was doing some work for Japanese TV, and I - I wanted to see you compete, too!” Javi admits, his smile turning sheepish, soft, and Yuzu doesn’t know what to do, not when Javi is looking at him like that, like he could stop the nightmare Yuzu has been living with a simple word… or three.

“I’m sorry,” he manages. “Didn’t compete well,” he adds, the bitterness of the loss coming back full force.

“I thought you fought great,” Javi counters. “The free was amazing!” he goes on, and Yuzu shakes his head. The free was good, but…

“Not good enough,” he says, grimacing.

“Yuzu…” Javi starts, and reaches for Yuzu’s shoulders, stepping into Yuzu’s space like it is that easy. Yuzu lets him. “You know you are the best,” Javi says, then shushes Yuzu when Yuzu starts to protest. “You are.”

“Didn’t win,” Yuzu mutters.

“It doesn’t - damn, I know it matters but…” Javi trails off. Of course it matters. Of course everyone always wants to win. It’s a sport. They’re athletes. Then Javi smiles at him, his hands finding their way to the nape of Yuzu’s neck. “Remember what I told you in Shanghai?” he asks, voice going soft. He doesn’t let Yuzu get a word in before he goes on. “You are the champion, always. The champion of everyone’s hearts. Of my heart, too,” he adds, his lips curling just so, and it hurts, god, it hurts more than the violent tremors hacking through his chest on a regular basis. To see Javi like this, to hear him say this, and know he can never have him…

“Don’t say that,” Yuzu snaps, sharper than he intended.

“Why not?” Javi asks, puzzled, pulling back a fraction to study Yuzu’s face. He looks so genuine, so honestly confused. It makes everything inside Yuzu seize up, the stress of the previous weeks, months, coiled and waiting - snapping loose.

“Because is not true,” he says, and he knows it’s dramatic, he’s being dramatic, but he can’t - he can’t do this, oscillate in this weird place between despair and small flickers of hope, irrational as they may be. “Because if I do this, you feel nothing,” he says, and leans forward, into Javi’s body, seeking out Javi’s mouth, one of his hands coming up to grab at Javi’s nape to pull him closer.

It’s… overwhelming. The rough scratch of Javi’s facial hair against his chin, the shocking warmth of his lips, of his breath as Javi gasps his mouth open. The tip of Javi’s tongue colliding with the tip of his own for an ephemeral instant, electric and accidental, because there is no way Javi would…

He feels Javi melt into the kiss, his head tilting, as if his first instinct was to reciprocate, and then tense, a sound that’s half sigh, half something else escaping his lips. Then Javi slowly extricates himself, his mouth lingering on Yuzu’s for another excruciating moment before it’s gone.

Javi stares at him with wide-eyes, his hand drops down from Yuzu’s neck, finds his own lips, touching them in disbelief, as if it was possible to wipe off what had just happened.

“I - “ Javi stammers, clearly shaken.

And Yuzu feels betrayed, and angry, even though he has no right to be, really. But mostly, he feels deeply, desperately sad. “I’m sorry,” he says, and imagines he can already feel the awful growth in his chest roar to life, victorious, feeding off of this rejection like the monster that it is. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

He turns around, tearing his eyes away from Javi’s stunned face. “Can you please leave, Javi?” he asks, his anger dwindling quickly, guilt and fear flooding him.

“Yuzu - “ Javi breathes, and Yuzu wonders if he’s still touching his lips, still trying to scrub off the imaginary essence of Yuzu’s kiss.

“Please,” he whimpers, not surprised in the slightest when his breathing turns labored, when his throat starts to itch, a sign of another carnation finding its way up his airways.

There is a moment where he can still hear Javi’s breathing. A moment where he imagines Javi is reaching out, the air around them shifting. Then there are soft footsteps, and the click of a door, and Yuzu is alone.

He drops to his knees and breaks down on the floor, and sobs, cries, wheezes, letting the disease claim his body as it will. When it is done, he stares at the small bud – not petals, not a fully-grown bloom, but a bud, a carnation just beginning to unfold, slick with blood, saliva, and tears. He barely has the energy to crawl to the bathroom and flush it down the toilet.

He cannot go on like this. This has to end.

*

It is a blessing, to have trained his mind over the years of competitive figure skating to focus on nothing but the goal at hand, to compartmentalize the puzzle-box of his life.  The goal now is recovery, and then the shows, nothing else. His lungs appreciate his efforts – as he puts his thoughts and memories of Javi to rest, the flower seems to become a fraction less violent. It is still destroying him from within, though, Yuzu is painfully aware of it every time he claws at the porcelain of the sink, the hacking coughs so strong sometimes that he is surprised he manages to stay on his feet. He will not let it kill him.

He calls Sasaki-san. He schedules the surgery. After Fantasy on Ice, he will wrap things up, get the plant removed, take the few weeks his body will need to recover before returning to Canada to train for the new season. That is Yuzu’s plan.

He follows it meticulously, doing his best to avoid Javi once the tour begins – ensuring his individual practices fall in with the group that Javi is not in, keeping to himself during the breaks. He mostly sleeps during those anyway, exhausted as he is, taking naps to restore some energy in-between performances. There is the nearly constant ache in his chest… and there is an ache in his heart, too, because he cannot avoid Javi all the time. He still sees him. Hears him laugh and banter with the other skaters, all of whom want a piece of him. It makes him want to skate over and throw his arms around Javi, laugh, hold hands like they used to…

But that is a thing of the past – even if the plant was not, Yuzu certainly did a great job of ruining their friendship with that… that kiss in Saitama. He doesn’t allow himself to remember it often but when he does, it is with a flash of shame and guilt… but also a butterfly flutter in his belly, remembering how hot Javi’s mouth had seemed against his, how solid his body as Yuzu had pressed himself against Javi…

It is a torturous thing, remembering the kiss – how inappropriate he was, how exquisite it had been to feel Javi react to him, even if it was for just one confused second. How much he had wanted more, all of it – all of Javi’s love, all of Javi’s passion, not just the friendly warmth but a hot blaze of desire.

Frustrated and turned-on, Yuzu corners, teases and eventually fucks Scott between the third and fourth stop of the tour, closing his eyes and pretending that it’s Javi buried between his legs, that it’s Javi’s breath against his ear, Javi’s teeth grazing the back of his neck… Luckily, Scott seems to understand that Yuzu doesn’t want cuddles when they are done, at least not from him.

“Are you alright, Yuzu?” he asks, touching the small of Yuzu’s back as they lie side by side, Yuzu on his front, Scott stretched out on his back.

He can’t see Yuzu’s face, and so Yuzu just hums, “Yes,” and that seems to be enough.

“Would you like me to stay?” Scott then asks, and rolls closer. He kisses Yuzu’s shoulder, a caring gesture, but non-committal. Yuzu considers the question.

“I want to sleep,” he says, and it’s the truth. Scott chuckles, and strokes his hand down Yuzu’s back before sitting up.

“Alright,” he says, and Yuzu rolls onto his back to look at his face. He’s wearing a content smile. “Have a good night,” Scott says, and brushes some hair out of Yuzu’s face. “And thanks, Yuzu. You’re lovely.”

Yuzu stretches out, feeling a little relaxed at last, but so, so worn out. “I know,” he says, and Scott laughs from where he is now pulling on his clothes.

“Javi doesn’t know what he’s missing,” he says lightly, and leaves, and Yuzu wonders what the hell Scott was implying, but it doesn’t matter because… because suddenly he is crying, choking at flowers and tears alike, his stomach heaving and his heart so very sore.

The tour cannot end fast enough.

*

“Yuzu!”

Yuzu freezes, and turns to leave. He can’t exactly start running down the hallway, but he wishes he could, his heart hammering inside his chest and color rising in his cheeks almost instantly.

Still, he strides out, hoping that maybe Javi won’t follow…

Javi catches his wrist, and the sensation of his fingers pressed against his skin makes Yuzu stop in his tracks. He squares his shoulders, turns, and smiles, even though he knows Javi can tell his fake smile from a mile away. “Hi, Javi,” he says.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Javi accuses.

“I have not,” Yuzu says but Javi rolls his eyes:

“You just tried to run away!”

Yuzu pouts, and doesn’t comment. He wasn’t running. “I need to go,” he says, and tugs at his wrist, still trapped in Javi’s hand.

“Yuzu, just – “ Javi bursts out, clearly exasperated. “Please. I don’t know why you’re acting like this, I’m not mad or anything, I just – “ Javi stops, and his eyes seem lost when they center on Yuzu, as if he was not quite sure what to say, or do. “Can we please just… be friends again?” he says in the end, his grip on Yuzu’s wrist loosening as all fight seems to go out of him. 

“I miss you, okay? I just want to have fun in the shows. I miss skating with you. I was so happy when you landed the lutz, and I couldn’t even –“ Javi’s shoulders sag, and he gives a minute headshake. “Please don’t hate me.”

Yuzu stares at him. “No!” it comes out a breathless gasp, and he feels sick, but not because of the Hanahaki flower this time. Has Javi really spent this time thinking that Yuzu disliked him now? “I don’t hate Javi. I’m so sorry, Javi. I was stupid, I was embarrassed, I – I should not do what I did in Saitama,” he says eventually, and notices that his hands have found their way to Javi’s hands, holding them cupped inside his smaller palms.

“It’s okay,” Javi tells him. “About Saitama. It’s… fine,” he says with a peculiar look on his face, and his eyes flick down from Yuzu’s own, to Yuzu’s mouth, then back up, a faint smear of pink across Javi’s cheeks. “Come here,” Javi whispers then, and Yuzu does, stepping into Javi’s hug, laying his head on Javi’s shoulder, the way they used to before all this awkwardness, before Yuzu’s terrible predicament and his stupid outburst. It’s the best thing, to just let Javi wrap his arms around him, to cling to Javi’s neck and body as if he was the anchor in the middle of a raging sea. And maybe he is. Maybe he has always been.

Yuzu doesn’t know how he could ever let loose without drowning.

*

The shows draw to a close, the last closing number done and skated, the last pictures being snapped. He sits next to Javi where Javi’s dropped down onto a chair by the side of the rink.

“Good show,” Javi mutters, and they high-five each other lightly, exchanging the satisfied smile of a job well done.

“Hanyu-san. Javi-san.”

They turn to find Nobuaki-san grinning at them over the rim of his camera.

Yuzu leans into Javi, draping his arms around his torso, and smiles, happy to have this, Javi next to him, with him, for a few more moments before they part ways again.

The shutter goes off, catching Yuzu’s smile, and Javi’s.

“Will you put it into the book?” Yuzu calls after the photographer as he begins moving away, already on the lookout for his next subject.

“If it’s good, hai,” Nobuaki replies, giving Yuzu a smile, which Yuzu returns, relieved. It suddenly seems so important: to know that somehow, somewhere, the memory of him and Javi will be immortalized, a snapshot of Yuzu’s happiness in this moment, of the love Yuzu feels his heart overflowing with.

Once this is all gone, once he can’t love Javi anymore, there will be this, at least. An eternal memento of another life, a better life.

*

“It’s not a good idea,” Sasaki-san tells him when he postpones the surgery, when he doesn’t even request a new date. But neither are quad axels, in theory, and yet he has been jumping them, feeling them take shape bit by painful bit.

“I can’t tell you exactly how much longer it will take before it’s too late”, the doctor warns, poring over the new X-rays, over the latticework of roots, tangled with the delicate tissue of his lungs. “The progress seems slower than I had initially anticipated but it would be wiser to do it now, Hanyu-san.”

Yuzu knows that. It would be wiser. He has never been a wise person when it came to things he lives for. Like skating. Like love. Like Javi.

“I can’t,” he admits. “Not yet.”

Sasaki-san’s expression turns pensive. “Is it – is this person – worth risking your life for?” she asks.

“Yes,” Yuzu says immediately. “Yes.”

*

The costume is beautiful, even in its currently unfinished version. Yuzu stands in front of the mirror, turning this way and that, admiring the fine details while Satomi-san dances around him with her pin-cushion.

“Can you add some red flowers?” he asks on a whim, looking back over his shoulder, at the butterflies Satomi is positioning on his back, thinking of how appropriate they are, butterflies. He lives with them daily, now. “Or just petals, strewn here and there? Like… carnations?”

Satomi looks up, meeting his eyes in the mirror. She smiles. “That is so sweet, Hanyu-kun. To honor your origin, and your mother who helped from the beginning?” she asks, thinking – predictably – of the Japanese meaning of the carnation flower.

He nods, even though his stomach is suddenly full of guilt rather than butterflies. He hasn’t told his mom, nor is he going to. She worries enough as is.

*

It is a little overwhelming – to keep training as if nothing was going on, not let anyone notice. But then again, Yuzu has enough experience with that – he has hidden injuries from people multiple times in the past, when he was young and foolish. He wonders if he is being foolish now, not telling Brian, Tracy, and Ghislain about the fact that he is, essentially, slowly suffocating to death.

Not telling Javi is worse, though. They text now, more frequently than before, and every time his phone lights up with a notification from Javi, Yuzu feels like something inside him both dies and comes alive. It feels… easy, now, to be talking to Javi. It makes him feel confident and loved, having Javi’s support when he tells him about the quad Axel struggle, about his new jumping passes. And even if it is not the kind of love that would appease the plant growing inside him, Yuzu basks in it, in the glowing warmth of Javi’s affection. It is what he thinks of every time he starts choking on bloodied petals – this is why he is doing this, waiting, not getting rid of this source of suffering. He can’t let this go yet, even if he knows that he will, eventually, have to.

When Javi shows up at Autumn Classic, unannounced and unexpected, Yuzu’s heart does a wild thing inside his chest when he spots him there, walking down a hallway, smiling casually.

He’s here, his brain goes, and even if he doesn’t voice the for me, not even in his thoughts, the knowledge still warms him from within like a good cup of tea.

“Javi!” he exclaims, arms flying up of their own accord, heedless of the gaggle of photographers, officials and media surrounding them.

Javi’s smile is the most beautiful thing Yuzu has seen in a long time, and as he delves into the embrace, he nearly forgets all the pain of the past months. This is worth it, Javi is worth it.

“I saw you practice,” Javi tells him, speaking softly, lips nearly brushing Yuzu’s ear. “You’re so strong.”

Yuzu blushes at the praise, and the camera shutters go off all around them. He doesn’t care if they see.

*

He is in full competitive shape, this time, and Javi is far from it, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is that the ice seems to glow brighter when Javi is on it, call to Yuzu even more than usual. What matters is the encouraging nods he gets from Javi as he works himself into the floor every session. What matters is the small touches their conversations over tea and coffee are peppered with, and the sparks they send up and down Yuzu’s spine, hopeless as they are. What matters is Yuzu being invited for a game of Mario Kart to Javi’s rented place, just a short walk away from the club.

They sit on the couch with their remotes, laughing and being loud as they play, making it a tournament of five. Yuzu wins three to Javi’s two, and pumps his fist into the air as he shoots across the finish line during the final race.

“Yes!” he exclaims, and feels a wild sort of happiness, easy and light, inside his belly.

Javi groans and buries his face in his hands, dramatically bending over them where he’s sitting next to Yuzu. “Not fair!” he mumbles, and Yuzu laughs, tossing his remote aside to pat Javi’s back.

He runs his hand up and down his spine a few times, and says: “Good race. You play good.” Javi lets out another exaggerated groan, making Yuzu giggle. “But I win,” Yuzu ads, feeling mischievous.

Javi mock-sighs and straightens up. “Of course you did,” he says, shaking his head at Yuzu, eyes bright. Then his gaze softens. “You always win.”

Something about the way he says it makes Yuzu wonder what Javi is referring to. He has a feeling it is not the video game, nor skating. He looks at Javi, a little puzzled. Javi’s lips curl in a small smile, and he reaches up. The back of his hand brushes against Yuzu’s cheek, feather-light.

Suddenly, Yuzu is incredibly aware of his own breathing, the way it hitches in his throat. Of his heartbeat, speeding up a little. Of his mouth suddenly so dry he needs to lick his lips. Javi’s eyes flick down to follow the movement, and his mouth falls open a little. Then Javi draws a breath, a shaky, shallow one –

It’s like a giant wave crashing over him, the pressure suddenly unbearable, cutting off his air. Yuzu closes his eyes, wills it to go away. It doesn’t.

“Yuzu?” he hears Javi say, feeling a little dizzy. He forces his eyes open, grabbing for Javi’s hand, his other hand coming to his throat.

“In- inhaler. Blue. Bag,” is all he manages, gasping. It takes Javi a split-second as he sits there, staring, horrified. Then he springs into action, running for Yuzu’s bag which Yuzu had dropped in the hallway.

Yuzu slowly lowers himself onto the floor, into a kneeling position, and begins shuffling towards where he knows the bathroom is.

“What are you doing?!” Javi exclaims when he returns, dropping down beside Yuzu, gripping his shoulders. Yuzu’s blue inhaler is in his hand, and Yuzu gropes for it, desperate. Maybe it will help, it usually does when he uses it early enough. You can’t stop an attack, Sasaki-san had clarified as she had handed him the prescription. It only makes it a bit easier to get through.

Javi seems to understand Yuzu’s intent, and presses the small plastic container into Yuzu’s hand, then brings both their hands up to Yuzu’s mouth. Yuzu squeezes, tries to inhale. It is laborious, each breath a burning tangle of pain. He feels his lungs strain, imagines them struggling against the roots of the flower inside his chest.

“Breathe, please, come on,” he hears Javi whisper. And he does, one painful breath after another, on all fours on the floor. “Good. Just keep breathing, okay?” Javi is mumbling next to him. Yuzu can feel his warmth, wants to lean into it and just fall asleep.

After a moment, his breathing eases. He knows what is coming next, however. Javi can’t see that, he realizes.

“I need –“ he wheezes, then tosses his head towards the bathroom. Javi looks at him, puzzled, then nods in understanding. Strong arms hoop under his armpits as Javi helps him to his feet. Yuzu feels ridiculous and weak as he leans against him, stumbling along. It would be embarrassing under normal circumstances.

Then they are in the bathroom, all beautiful white tile, and Yuzu sags down against the sink, leaning over it. “Leave,” he whimpers, just as the first cough tears out of his mouth.

“Are you crazy?” Javi barks. “I’m not leaving you!”

“Please,” Yuzu begs, and squeezes Javi’s hand. “Please, wait outside.” There are tears in his eyes from the effort of keeping the coughs small, and Yuzu looks up at Javi.

“Yuzu…” Javi all but whimpers, shaking his head.

“Please,” Yuzu repeats, and something in his expression must work, because Javi shakes his head, face scrunched up.

“Okay,” he says, even though he doesn’t sound convinced. “I’ll be right here,” he gestures towards the door, pulling it shut as he leaves the room, but not closing it completely. “I’m right here,” he announces from the other side. “If you need me.”

Yuzu closes his eyes, and opens his mouth wide to give the plant space. One, two, three coughs that feel like they will tear him apart. He fears he might throw up as his body seizes up, and he clutches at the edge of the sink to keep himself upright.

Then the bloom comes up. It’s bright red, crumpled but fully grown, its petals glistening with droplets of saliva and blood. Yuzu stares at it for a second, the way it sits in his palm, almost large enough to cover it. Then he squeezes it in his fist, clenches his teeth around the coppery flavor in his mouth. He tosses the bloom into the toilet bowl and flushes, watching it swirl away.

“Are you alright, Yuzu?” calls Javi from the other side of the door. He sounds scared. Yuzu hates it.

“Yes,” he calls back, even though he isn’t. He never will be again, no matter what he does. But he doesn’t want to think about that now. And so he rinses his mouth, washes his face and hands, and emerges from the bathroom to come face to face with Javi.

He doesn’t let Javi ask the thousand questions he probably wants to ask. “Thank you for helping,” he says. “Can we play some more?”

Javi looks like he wants to protest, tell him no. “Yuzu, what – “

“Just stupid asthma,” Yuzu lies. “I can play lying on couch,” he adds, and gives Javi his best puppy eyes.

Javi sighs. Then, after a moment, he says: “Fine. I’ll make you tea, and then we play one game, and then you rest.”

Yuzu doesn’t remember the game the following morning. All he remembers is falling asleep on Javi’s couch, and then waking up in Javi’s bed, warm and rested, with Javi greeting him groggily from where he had clearly spent the night on the couch himself.

This time, when they hug just before Javi departs to compete in Japan Open, it is so much harder to let go. Perhaps it is because something has changed. Or perhaps it is just because it might well be the last time that Yuzu gets to sink into Javi’s embrace, and feel it in his very heart.

*

Yuzu doesn’t believe in miracles. And yet, when he competes first at Skate Canada, then NHK, without incident – his ankle intact, but mostly, his chest not dissolving in a bloody mess just yet – it certainly feels like one.

“Has anything changed?” Sasaki-san asks him during one of their regular calls. “I’m looking at the latest X-rays.”

“No,” Yuzu answers, shrugging even though he knows Sasaki cannot see him. “The flowers are still coming, full blooms.”

Sasaki-san is quiet for a moment. “I meant – “ she starts, but doesn’t finish her sentence. “Well, nevermind. But they are one at a time? The same size?”

“Yes,” Yuzu confirms. As if one at a time was not bad enough.

“You are very lucky, Hanyu-san,” Sasaki states, then her voice turns more stern. “I would still urge you to proceed with the surgery as soon as possible, however. It seems that the plant is slightly less aggressive now than it appeared to be when we first spoke. This is good… but it’s also bad because it makes it unpredictable. It could go on like this for a while, or there could be a drastic change of pace and – “

“And then I’d die?” Yuzu asks, and hears the sharp intake of breath on the other side of the line, realizing the doctor probably did not expect him to be so blunt about his own demise. He realizes that maybe Canada has changed him in more ways than he has been aware of.

“Then it might be too late for the surgery,” Sasaki says, a more polite way of saying what he has just said.

It is odd, to think about dying at not even 25 years of age. It is equally odd to think of a life without Javi in it.

“I’ll let you know,” he says, suddenly uneasy, and eager to be done with the call. The end of the season, he thinks. That’s how long he needs to postpone this. Then… then it will be time. He hopes to see Javi at Worlds in Canada one last time. Win gold. Share his joy and accomplishment with Javi. And then he will let Javi go, because he has to go on. It is his responsibility – towards his family, his country, his fans.

*

He finishes his freeskate in Torino gasping for air, chest heaving, legs shaking, the arena boiling around him – cheering voices, a storm of yellow and red as the Winnie the Pooh plushies rain down upon the ice, a sea of flags to greet him. His lips feel numb and he can barely breathe, can barely stand, his lungs burning inside his chest. For a second, he is afraid that he will start asphyxiating right there and then, in the middle of the ice – and wouldn’t it be poetic, him literally betting his life to skate here… and losing it, just like he knows he has lost the gold?

Then he realizes that there is none of that horrendous tickle of a carnation forcing its way up his windpipe.

You’re fine. You’re fine, he tells himself, steadying himself as he navigates through the sea of Poohs towards the boards, falling into Ghislain’s embrace.

“Good fight,” Ghislain says, and Yuzu is so tired, so tired of fighting. He wishes Javi was there at least to make it all more bearable, make a loss less bitter.

“Not enough,” is all Yuzu manages.

But he is still alive, he is twenty-five, and when he walks out of the arena to people standing in the cold, singing Happy Birthday to him, when he sits down in the car and lets his mom kiss his temple – so proud, Yuzu-kun!, when he drops into his bed and looks at his phone to find a message from Javi there… Yuzu feels like maybe he can pull through this, both the disappointment and the disease. Because he is not alone. There are people fighting with him. He will not let them down.

*

He doesn’t know what time it is. He barely knows where he is, mostly he only knows because everyone around him speaks Japanese. He hasn’t been sleeping well, both jetlag and the nightly coughing fits getting the best of him. He has no idea how he makes it through the short program at Japanese Nationals. He is not surprised when he bombs the free. All he wants to do is curl up and sleep, glad that it is finally over, but the demands of the press seem never-ending. He answers their questions mechanically, holding back tears, hiding his face from the cameras wherever he can because he knows they will be looking for any and all signs of weakness.

He feels weak. He still doesn’t want to appear so.

He doesn’t expect Javi’s call at all but drags himself out of his weary misery to answer it because if there is one person in the world he knows will understand, it is Javi.

“I failed,” he says wearily, and feels the tears gather in his eyes once again.

“Yuzuru, are you in bed?” Javi asks, and it takes Yuzu’s drowsy brain a minute to process the question. Why would Javi be asking that?

“Yes?” he says because he is, at last, his feet in warm fluffy socks and the costumed Pooh Ghislain had picked out for him out of the small mountain of fan gifts sitting on the other side of the bed.

“Good. Now stay there, and don’t set your damn alarm, sleep through gala practice if you must, but stop for a minute and rest.”

“I have to train harder,” Yuzu mumbles, his mind still in press-answering mode.

“Yuzu, you train harder than anyone else. You have trained hard enough,” Javi tells him, and it’s true, Yuzu has, as hard as he possibly could between the long-haul flights and the way his lungs are starting to hinder him when he skates.

He sighs, and then he starts crying, the tears he’s been holding back all day finally spilling, his frustration, disappointment, and exhaustion finally winning over. “I was not happy to skate,” he admits, and it shakes him to the core because he always enjoys skating but lately his love for the ice has felt on hold, overshadowed by the mounting frustrations and fears. What if he’s not good enough anymore? What if his approach is wrong? Has he been wasting his time on a sport that doesn’t even want him anymore?

“Yuzu…” Javi’s voice softens, and Yuzu knows he understands the severity of that statement, just the way Javi has always seemed to understand him without many words. “I wish I could help,” Javi says, and Yuzu’s sobs threaten to turn ugly, because of course Javi would want to help, he always has. “I know it’s not… I know you love to win but maybe, try skating just for fun?”

*

The next day, when Yuzu steps on the ice and skates Seimei, it brings him so much joy he can’t believe that just a day ago, he nearly wanted to quit.

And so, when he realizes he needs a new program for Worlds, he keeps it, Seimei, and brings back his Chopin short program as well. They remind him of the past, of a time when everything was easy, when he could just goof around with Javi without fear of consequences, without wondering whether it will aggravate the plant inside his lungs. When he could win, and throw himself into Javi’s waiting embrace, clinging to Javi’s neck as if he never wanted to let go.

He still doesn’t. But he knows he doesn’t have much time. He knows he needs to make a decision quickly when he wins in Korea, then spends the entire night after the free skate tossing and turning, coughing and wheezing, until his bed is covered in petals, and his mother calls him from the adjacent room, asking if he is alright, and panicking about the new coronavirus.

He returns to Canada, and isn’t sure how he is going to train now that his attacks are becoming a more frequent occurrence. But he drags himself to the rink… he only has to make it till Worlds, and then… Yuzu prefers not to think about what happens then.

Then they lock them down… and Yuzu doesn’t need to worry about training, or Worlds, all of a sudden. He has to worry about Javi in Spain, with people dying by the hundred every day, and with Madrid closed and confined to balconies and windows. He has to worry about his family in Japan, his father, and sister, and grandparents. He doesn’t worry about himself, not as he waits in Toronto, not as he flies back to Japan, traveling through empty airports and on gloomily silent planes. He already has a 100% chance of dying… or losing the thing that is more precious than even skating to him.

He doesn’t want to be clingy but the day he reads about the ice rink converted to a morgue, he calls Javi… and then calls him daily, after that. Javi cries into the phone a few times, and it’s all Yuzu can do not to cry with him – but it’s his turn to be strong, his turn to be a rock in the middle of a storm for Javi. 

“Are you safe?” Javi asks him every day, and there’s that small quiver in his voice that breaks Yuzu’s heart every damn time. Because he has to lie. Yes, he says, he is safe. Yes, he is healthy, since Javi is asking about Covid.

He wants to tell Javi. I love you, he wants to say, because time is running out, and they will never see each other again, not with Yuzu’s heart intact. It will never be the same, after. I love you, he whispers every time Javi hangs up, and wishes he would make a mistake sometime, that he would speak a moment too early, so that Javi might hear…

But that would be selfish, and Javi carries enough of a burden right now, what with his sister sick and isolated, what with the world plummeting into collective despair.

I love you, he writes it down, in hiragana and kanji first, just to test out the shape and feel of the words, then in Latin letters so that Javi can understand. He writes a letter every day, just a couple of sentences some days, several pages on others. And in every one of them, he makes sure to say that this is not your fault. And I will miss you forever, even if I don’t know it.

He knows Javi will never read the letters. Javi wouldn’t believe him. He would think it was all his fault.

He cries until his eyes are dry, and he coughs until he thinks his lungs should be, too, but there’s always more.

The flowers are beautiful. Crimson like rubies, they make Yuzu think of the Flamenco on Ice crew’s costumes, the swirling skirts hemmed by red ruffles, the red lipstick on the women. Yuzu wonders how it will be, doing shows, looking at Javi without that tug of longing inside the pit of his stomach… He can’t imagine Javi, his Javi, as just another cast-member that Yuzu is cordially polite to.

“We can go out now!” Javi tells him one day, overjoyed, and sends him a video of splashing in a pool with a bunch of other men. The jealousy rises like a tsunami wave, rearing its ugly head, clawing at his lungs. “I wish you could be here,” Javi then adds, some of the brightness ebbing now, replaced by something else, something that sounds almost wistful. “I’d take you out of the city, though, just… to the beach,” Javi says, and Yuzu imagines it, the sparkling blue water, the warm sand, Javi’s golden skin, Javi’s hand holding on to his own…

Then he stops himself, heartsick and aching, and tells himself not to be stupid, not to torment himself. He’s got the plant for that.

Suddenly, he wishes he could skate. To clear his head. To forget. To leave it all there, the pain and blood and tears, his whole heart, on the ice.

But he can’t. And so he only smiles, and nods, and tells Javi to have fun. And then he calls Sasaki-san and schedules his appointment for the surgery.

*

It’s still a week until the date but Yuzu decides he needs to do this now. Clear his head, try to clear his heart, hoping he will at least remember even if he will not love Javi anymore, once this is done.

He doesn’t know how to…

He writes one final letter.

And when Javi calls him that day, he chokes on the silences, on the tears he’s keeping barred inside, on the painfully beautiful lilt to Javi’s voice as he says his name, asking him if he is safe, if he is alright.

“Goodbye, Javi,” Yuzu says at the end of the call, and hangs up, and thinks he is going to die from how much it hurts.

*

It’s late July, and Yuzu knows he should have gotten this over with sooner, because he can barely stand upright. He has his bag packed, and he has made his excuses to his family – lying, lying, even more lies, because nobody except him, Sasaki and Kikuchi know about this. He stands in the middle of his room, dawdling. He runs his fingers along the edges of the crisp white envelope, the one with Javi’s Spanish address and a couple of stamps, ready to be thrown into the mail when he goes out.

He heads to the bathroom, rinses his face one more time, sweating despite the unusually cool weather. He puts on his face mask, then adjusts it two more times, fiddling with the strings that are suddenly too uncomfortable behind his ears. He feels like he can’t breathe, and he can no longer tell if that’s just regular shortness of breath due to his asthma, if it is the mounting panic and anxiety, or if it’s the Hanahaki. 

“You can do it,” he tells himself. “You have to do it.” He has to. There are people whom he cannot let down. There are goals to reach. History to make. There is no space for silly things like love. No time.

“Yuzu?”

It’s his mother, knocking on the door of his room.

“I just need a minute,” he calls, terrified by how weak his voice sounds.

“You’ve got a visitor.”

Yuzu starts, stepping out of the bathroom back into his room. Are you crazy? he wants to ask. Because who lets in visitors during a pandemic? And who would visit him anyways?

Then the door opens, no further knocks, and Yuzu almost wants to snap at his mother. Except –

It’s not his mother.

He makes a sound, a very pathetic one that is half-whimper, half-howl. Or it would be, if he had breath to spare.

He’s dizzy, and he must be hallucinating from the lack of oxygen. Because there he is, Javi.

“Yuzu!” he’s saying, wearing a black mask and thin black gloves, twitching as he tries to decide whether to move or not. “You’re – “

“What are you doing here?!” Yuzu snaps, clutching at his chest, at his stupid treacherous heart which seems to very much approve of Javi’s presence here, picking up an elated rhythm, even though Javi being here… it’s wrong. So wrong. All kinds of wrong. And Yuzu loves him and he can’t, he can’t possibly do this –

“Are you alright?” Javi asks, ignoring him and his tone completely, and his eyes above the mask are wide and wild. Yuzu notices the rings under his eyes, and the gauntness to Javi’s features, the way Javi seems to be shaking. “Do you – do you have it?” he asks then, and by the way his voice cracks Yuzu understands he means the virus.

He nearly laughs. “I would not be with family if I did,” he says. And then he adds, reckless and angry. “I wish it was Covid.”

Javi stares at him, then takes a step forward, discarding the gloves. “Don’t say that,” he whispers, and he is reaching out to touch. “I’m good,” he says,, “I got a test last week after you called and then two tests done the moment I landed, I – oh god, you’re alive.”

Yuzu blinks, but then Javi’s touching him, hands on his skin, and it’s irresponsible and reckless and so so incredible, the sensation of Javi’s hand against his neck. It’s selfish. But Yuzu realizes he’d rather die than forget this.

“You’re alive,” Javi whispers again, and Yuzu registers the words. They don’t make any sense. Javi doesn’t know, couldn’t know…

“Why did you come here?” he asks, puzzled, leaning into Javi’s touch so hungrily it would be embarrassing if Yuzu actually cared.

Javi’s eyes are swimming in tears. “You – you said goodbye, Yuzu!” he manages. “You were all weird, and you said goodbye like you’d never see me again, and then your phone was off, I thought…” Javi trails off, and leans his head against Yuzu’s shoulder.

“You thought - ?”

“I thought something was wrong!” Javi cries, and his hands on Yuzu become claws, desperate and scared. “I had to come!”

“You flew to Japan from Spain in pandemic,” Yuzu says in disbelief. He realizes just how much Javi has risked by coming here, and it terrifies him. “Because you – “ he shakes his head, fear twisting inside his gut.

“Yes! You, you idiot,” Javi gasps.

“Why?” Yuzu asks. “I’m not your responsibility. You don’t have to – “

“WHY?!” Javi bursts out, and it’s half a hysterical laugh, half a sob. “Why? Because I fucking love you, that’s why, and I thought you were dying, Yuzuru!”

It feels like the world stops for a second. “You –“ Yuzu says. The air feels very thin. He reaches up to his ear. Pulls off the mask. “You said you –“ he leans against Javi, feeling heavy. “Love me?” he whispers, a small puff of breath.

He looks down at his mask. There’s red spatter on it already.

“Yes,” Javi says, and his hand returns to Yuzu’s nape, the caress so familiar and right Yuzu just wants to close his eyes and dream of this forever.

“It can’t be,” he mumbles, reaching out to steady himself, palm against Javi’s chest.

Javi reaches up to pull off his own mask. He smiles, small, shy. Shrugs. “It’s true. It just took me very long to admit, Yuzu,” he says.

“How do you know?” Yuzu asks, and Javi is going blurry around the edges as his eyes flood with tears. “How do you know you’re not just – “

Javi’s hand moves up, touching his jaw, his ear, tucking a strand of hair behind. “Because I feel it, when I do this,” Javi says, and leans in, and fits his mouth against Yuzu’s. It’s delicate, merely a brush of lips. When Yuzu doesn’t push him away, Javi pulls him closer, seeking more of him, more of his mouth, seeking out his tongue when Yuzu’s mouth falls apart, chasing it and taking Yuzu’s breath away.

Yuzu feels lightheaded, delirious. It’s – it’s real. It’s real, and Javi is kissing him of his own volition, and Yuzu feels like he might faint –

The world swoops sideways. He grabs at Javi, hand shooting out on instinct to hold on to something, anything. Dizzy, he opens his mouth to breathe, but he can’t, he can’t –

“Yuzu?!” Javi’s voice comes as if from the other end of a long corridor. He tries to focus on Javi’s face, on his arm now keeping him upright, but then his body convulses, and the pain in his chest is so sudden and so overwhelming that Yuzu’s knees buckle. Javi catches him, then gently lowers them both to the floor. “Dios,” Javi whispers, but whatever he was going to say next gets interrupted as Yuzu starts coughing violently, feeling as if something is tearing inside him.

His gaze blurs, and he feels more than sees the flower that forces its way past his lips, a large, bloodied lump.

“Oh god,” he hears Javi’s voice, but it is faint, like everything else around him, like he is wrapped in bubble wrap. 

“Sasaki,” he squeezes out. “Doctor Sasaki.”

Then darkness closes in around him like a curtain, and Yuzu doesn’t see or hear or feel anything anymore.

*

White.

Everything is white and too bright.

He is warm, and he feels light, like he’s floating.

For a moment, Yuzu wonders if he is dead. Then he notes the dull ache in his chest and his larynx, and in his whole body, really, as if someone had beaten him up. And then he remembers.

“Javi,” he tries to say, but it comes out barely more than a breath.

And yet something stirs beside him. “Yuzu?” comes Javi’s voice, sleepy and quiet, and then there’s a hand around his hand, and Javi’s face comes into view, hovering above him. “You’re awake,” Javi says, and if the situation were different, Yuzu would poke fun at him for stating the obvious, but as things are, he can only nod weakly. “Thank god, you’re awake,” Javi mumbles, and brings Yuzu’s hand up to his lips, kissing it.

And Yuzu wonders if he is dreaming, if he has indeed died and gone to heaven, but no, he remembers the kiss, it had been real, then, not a figment of his imagination.

“What happened?” he asks, and when Javi looks at him blankly, Yuzu realizes he has spoken in Japanese. He takes a second to gather his thoughts, then repeats the question in English. His mouth feels parched, and he licks at his lips.

“Here,” Javi says, and holds up a glass with a plastic straw, so that Yuzu can take a tiny sip. Yuzu nods, grateful, then turns his eyes to Javi, willing him to go on.

Javi shrugs. “Your mom called the doctor. They brought you here, gave you a shot of something, and an oxygen mask. I think the doctor did an X-ray?”

Yuzu keeps looking at him, but Javi doesn’t say anything anymore, only shrugs. “That’s all I know, Yuzu. The doctor told us you have a rare disease, and then we just… waited,” he says. Then, with a quiver to his voice, Javi adds: “She says you’re safe now. That’s all I know.”

Yuzu stares at him. “You don’t know – ?” he asks, finding his voice a bit more easily now that he has had a drink.

“Hanyu-san, welcome back.” It’s Sasaki-san, stepping into the room. She is in full gear – face-shield, mask, goggles, gloves, plastic suit. Yuzu wants to tell her that he’s pretty sure unrequited love is not contagious – then realizes this is probably not about the Hanahaki. And that… his love is not really unrequited, is it? “You gave us quite a scare here, I must say. I will not say ‘I told you so’ because that would be unprofessional, but let me just say that you have waited a tad too long, longer than would have been advisable.”

“You said he’s safe,” Javi speaks up, throwing a worried glance at the doctor.

“Yes,” she confirms, and Yuzu sees Javi visibly exhale, tension going out of his shoulders. “Yuzuru-san was very lucky indeed that you arrived when you did,” she says, and gives a pointed look to Yuzu first, then to Javi.

“I – I don’t understand,” Javi says helplessly.

“I can imagine,” Sasaki says, her voice softening for a moment. “I will let Mr Hanyu explain, once he is feeling a bit better.”

Then she turns to Yuzu and, with a quiet Excuse me to Javi, switches to Japanese. “Hanyu-san, I do not want to overwhelm you with information right now, and I think your mother is also waiting to come in, so only the basics now. You probably would have been in very real danger of dying if we had had to perform the excision in the state you were in,” she says, and glares, clearly disapproving. “You have your companion to thank for the fact that you are alive,” she goes on, nodding towards Javi.

“What – what happened?” Yuzu asks.

“The plant is dying,” Sasaki says. “It’s fascinating, really, I’ve never had the chance to observe such an advanced specimen retreat and detach,” she goes on, and there is an almost excited gleam in her eyes behind the visor and her glasses.

“It’s dying,” Yuzu repeats, feeling a little dumb. “It means – “

“Yes,” Sasaki-san says, and Yuzu thinks she is smiling behind the mask. “Like I said, you are lucky,” she adds, glancing towards Javi. Yuzu feels a warmth settle in his stomach when he follows her gaze and his eyes inevitably collide with Javi’s. Javi loves him back. It’s insane. Unbelievable. And yet Sasaki has just confirmed it.

“Am I fine, then?” he asks.

Sasaki-san chuckles. “You will be. It will take a while for the plant to decay completely, even with medication. You will probably be having some discharge for another couple of weeks.”

Discharge. Yuzu thinks of the blooms, their red petals, their monstrous beauty. He certainly will not be giving his mother carnations for Mother’s Day ever again.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely.

Sasaki shakes her head. “Don’t thank me, I did not do much.” Then she smiles behind her mask, it shows in her eyes. “It’s you who made him fall in love with you.” 

*

His mom cries, and hugs him so tightly Yuzu has to gently remind her that he still needs to breathe.

“You always told me,” she tells him once she has calmed down somewhat. “You always told me about your injuries, even if you didn’t tell your coaches, or anyone else. This is the first time, Yuzuru,” she says, meeting his eyes. She wants to be stern with him, he can tell, and he supposes he deserves it. But then she tears up again. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

“Mom,” he says gently, and tells her the easier part of the truth: “You already worry so much about me. I didn’t want to make it even worse.”

She shakes her head. “We talked about this so many times, Yuzu.”

He knows that. He also knows that having an ankle injury and having a potentially fatal disease are two vastly different things, and the usual rule of you can tell me anything did not seem adequate to the situation.

He fidgets a little in his bed, sitting up now and feeling a bit better. His mother is still looking at him, and he caves – the Hanyu glare his fans like to talk about was his mother’s first, and he is not immune.

“It’s… complicated,” he says, swallows. “I’d have had to explain many things. About myself.” Somehow he had never thought to apply the you can tell me anything rule to his being gay, either.

His mom sighs. “Yuzuru,” she says, shaking her head and squeezing his hand. “I’m your mother. I’m not blind, nor stupid. I know you were never interested in girls,” she says, and Yuzu gapes at her a little, provoking the smallest of chuckles from his mom with that. She squeezes his hand, then goes on: “I may not wholly like it, because it will make your life even more complicated than it already is, but… it is who you are. And I love you, we all do.”

She reaches out, touching his cheek, and Yuzu closes his eyes, feeling a fresh round of tears well up beneath his eyelids. “I love you, too, mom,” he tells her, holding on to her hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

He hears her sigh, but when he opens his eyes, she is wearing a small smile. “At least Javier-san is someone I can trust,” she says, and Yuzu blushes. Somehow, having his mother know about him and Javi is both kind of wonderful and thoroughly embarrassing.  “Maybe he can convince you to drop the quad axel madness, too,” she adds.

“He would never!” Yuzu protests, and knows that Javi indeed wouldn’t, just as his mother does. He smiles, his heart somewhat at ease for the first time in what feels like ages.

*

He explains to Javi once his mother leaves. Javi cries, and gets angry, then deflates and holds Yuzu for what feels like an eternity, saying you could have died, you idiot so many times that Yuzu loses count. Eventually, he falls asleep, his eyes-red rimmed and his heart sore, but at the same time relieved. Because Javi is still there as he drifts off, holding his hand.

When he wakes up from his nap, it’s to find the lights dimmed and Javi napping in the chair by his bed, his head leaning against the wall behind. Yuzu smiles, watching Javi’s chest rise and fall, watching the small frown Javi is wearing in his sleep. It feels like a miracle, to be here, on his way to recovery… and with Javi by his side.

He wants to let Javi rest, but he also selfishly wants to touch him, to make sure he is truly there, real and solid and warm, that he is not imagining Javi. He rolls onto his hip and reaches out, catching Javi’s hand.

Javi mumbles something, and squeezes, and then slowly opens his eyes. “Hi,” he says, blinking at Yuzu in the semi-darkness. Then he scrapes his chair closer, so that Yuzu doesn’t have to stretch quite so much. “Sleep well?”

Yuzu nods, because he has, with the stress of the disease finally off his shoulders, and the nearly constant pain he has been living with the past couple of months eased somewhat, he feels like he has gotten a lot more rest than in the previous several days combined.

“You?” he asks, and then they share a laugh when Javi cracks his neck from side to side, all stiff.

“It’s fine,” Javi says, and threads his fingers through Yuzu’s. “I’m happy.”

“Me, too,” Yuzu says, and he is sure he looks like a dork, smiling like this, but he doesn’t care.

Then Javi’s eyes cloud over. “You should have told me, Yuzu,” he admonishes.

Yuzu shakes his head. “You would feel guilty. You would try to help, and it will not work, you would try to fake you love me and – “

“Yuzu,” Javi interrupts him, shifting closer still, until he can lay a palm against Yuzu’s chest. He lets out a little laugh that hovers somewhere between disbelief and despair. “Do you think that this just… happened?” Javi says. “Overnight, just like that?” he snaps his fingers.

Yuzu looks at him, puzzled.

Javi sighs. “I loved you in Saitama, when you kissed me. I loved you way before that, too, Yuzu, I just never dared to admit it.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry it has taken me so long,” he says, looking down at their joined hands, at his other hand covering Yuzu’s heart. “I did a lot of thinking during the quarantine, you know,” he says quietly, pauses, and Yuzu knows he is thinking back on those weeks of darkness and despair. “Do you remember Worlds in Shanghai?” he then asks.

Yuzu nods. Of course he does. The first time he lost to Javi when it really mattered.

“I realized I was in love with you then,” Javi admits, smiling at Yuzu’s surprised expression.

“But that was five years ago!” he protests, because even though he himself has been loving Javi for at least that long, it seems outrageous to him that Javi may have felt the same way…

“Yeah,” Javi confirms. “I won the gold but I wanted to give it to you, just to make you smile.” He ducks his head a little shyly. “I wish you had told me about the… the flowers,” he says then, and looks up, and he looks so scared it hurts.

“Can you come here?” Yuzu asks abruptly, petting the bed beside him, shuffling to one side to make space, suddenly overcome with the urge to be closer to Javi. “Please.”

Javi only nods, and toes off his shoes, and then he is climbing into the bed beside Yuzu. It’s a narrow fit, but it works, and Yuzu doesn’t mind that Javi has to be pressed against him quite closely to make sure neither one of them falls off the bed.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers, running his hands over Javi’s back, feeling his warmth.

“You don’t need to ask,” Javi says. “You never need to ask that again, cariño,” and he kisses him.

*

It is supremely awkward, being released from the hospital and having to explain to the rest of his family just what had caused his condition and what had “magically” healed him now. His father, ever the pragmatic, looks at him with slight disbelief until Yuzu has a coughing fit, which ends up with his father tightly embracing him and helping him sweep up the petals off of the bathroom floor.

It is even more supremely awkward, introducing Javi to his family… or it would be, if Saya didn’t roll her eyes the moment Yuzu is done with his little speech and his furious blushing.

“We know Javi, Yuzu,” she says. “And if you ask me, it was only a matter of time, it was all Javi this, Javi that ever since you moved to Canada.”

Yuzu buries his face in his hands then, and turns to Javi, who is standing behind him quite stoically, wearing only a slight blush. He drops his head against Javi’s chest, embarrassed. “It’s fine,” Javi whispers, and Yuzu groans, mortified, making Javi laugh.

And as simply as that, Saya bursts out laughing, too, and even his father chuckles, and Yuzu supposes it’s going to be fine…

Luckily, when his mother invites Javi to stay with them for as long as necessary, she doesn’t insist on giving Javi the guest room, and instead just lets him cart his small suitcase straight into Yuzu’s bedroom.

They stand there then, in the middle of Yuzu’s bedroom, once Yuzu has shown Javi around, after they’ve had dinner with the family… They stand there a little stupidly, truly alone and undisturbed for the first time since Javi’s confession and Yuzu’s dramatic hospitalization, and Yuzu can feel his heart inside his chest, so very alive.

It’s as if they both act on the same impulse. They’ve talked in the hospital, kissed, and talked some more. But this is different.

Javi looks at him with such urgent longing that it makes Yuzu’s stomach tingle in excitement. And he needs this, too, with his whole person.

He steps forward to find Javi moving towards him as well. They don’t even need words right now, falling into sync the way they used to on the ice, too. They fall into each other’s arms, and this kiss is far from the gentle ones they traded while Yuzu was recovering from the worst at the hospital. Yuzu plunges his tongue into Javi’s mouth, and swallows the small sound Javi makes, locking his arms around Javi’s neck, pulling himself as close as he can.

It feels so good, to just… get lost in this, in the anticipation, in the sensation of Javi’s arms around him, strong and secure.

“Take it off,” Yuzu gasps into the small break between kisses, and finds the hem of Javi’s t-shirt, sliding his hands beneath. He feels Javi’s muscles tense under his touch, and it’s exhilarating to be able to do this, feel this, especially after he has convinced himself he never would be able to.

Javi obliges, pulling his t-shirt over his head, making quick process of Yuzu's as well. Yuzu gasps at how good it feels, Javi's skin against his own, so warm, tan where he is pale, like Javi is made of summer and sunshine. Javi touches his face, a gentle caress, and then captures his lips once again, making Yuzu wish he didn’t need to breathe, so that they could kiss forever.

Arousal sizzles down his spine, and it’s marvelous – there is none of the usual frustration that he has experienced so often with other lovers, none of the lurking sense that this is great but it’s not right. He tips his head back, letting Javi kiss his throat, his collarbones, the tops of his shoulders. He knows he’s probably leaving marks, clinging on to Javi’s back as he is, nails digging, but he doesn’t care… and he has a feeling that Javi doesn’t exactly mind.

He tugs Javi in the direction of the bed, stepping back and pulling Javi with him. A small cough escapes him, and Javi tenses.

“Are you okay? Is this okay?” he asks, seeking Yuzu’s gaze with eyes that are lust-blown but also concerned.

“I’m fine,” Yuzu rasps, and smiles, and settles down on the futon, then pulls Javi down into the space between his knees. “Really,” he adds when Javi’s frown doesn’t disappear, cradling his face in his palms. “I’m not in pain.”

Javi nods, then blushes. “Your family, though –“ he glances nervously towards the door.

Yuzu smirks. “I locked the door,” he tells Javi, receiving a headshake in return for his cheek. He slides his hands down Javi’s broad back, soothing. “Javi,” he says, infusing his voice with sincerity. “I’ve – I’ve waited so long,” he says, and thinks that some of his desperation must seep through because Javi’s eyes widen. “I don’t want to wait until we leave here,” he whispers, and kisses the corner of Javi’s mouth. “Please,” he says. “I need you.”

Javi nods, then laughs a little against Yuzu’s lips. “It’s not like I want to wait,” he says, and nips at his lip, then deepens the kiss once more, leaning over Yuzu, then toppling them both down against the sheets.

He lets Javi take the lead, reveling in the kisses Javi scatters across his chest and his stomach. He bites back a cry when Javi lets his teeth graze one of Yuzu’s nipples, just a gentle bite. He’s hard in his shorts, has been for a while, and he pushes his hips against Javi’s thigh between his legs, seeking friction.

Javi gets the hint, reaches between them to palm him through his pants, then moves up to lick the shell of Yuzu’s ear. “So how far do you want to take this?” he asks, his breath hot and tingling.

Yuzu glares at him, then laughs deep in his throat. “Take off the rest,” he tells Javi, delighted by the way Javi’s eyes light up, by the smug smile that curls up the corner of Javi’s mouth.

 He lifts his hips and shuffles out of his shorts and underwear with Javi’s assistance, watching as Javi’s cheeks go a little pink, his mouth a little slack. “Yours, too,” he orders, and Javi obliges, kicking off his own pants, then lying on his side next to Yuzu. He draws a heart over Yuzu’s chest with his fingertip, feather-light and tickling.

“Come here,” Yuzu tells him, and captures his mouth in a kiss, rolling over so he’s on top of Javi.

Javi moans into his mouth, a quiet little thing that makes Yuzu heady with need. He wants more of that, and even though he knows they have to be quiet now, he can’t wait – he can’t wait for all the other times they’ll do this, in future, wondering just what will make Javi lose his mind, what will coax out the best of sounds.

He tweaks the nubs of Javi’s nipples, making him hiss, smiling as he soothes the sting with his tongue. He kisses down Javi’s chest, dips his tongue into his belly-button, follows the trail leading down from there.

“Yuzu,” Javi whimpers when Yuzu takes a detour to kiss Javi’s hipbones, sinking his teeth into the tender skin there. It takes a lot of restraint not to delve down just yet but it is worth it – the urgent desperation in Javi’s voice, the way his whole body tenses in expectation. “Please, I – “

Yuzu takes him in his mouth, and it’s – it’s dizzying, the taste of him, the way Javi is hot and thick inside his mouth. He laves at him gently, teasing one moment, then taking him in deeper, as far as he can, until his eyes sting and he feels like he’s going to choke. This is what choking on love should feel like, he thinks, swallowing around Javi, making Javi clutch at his hair, strong fingers against his scalp.

He then pulls off, and Javi whines, eyes flying open in confusion.

Yuzu smiles, pleased, and moves up to lie on top of Javi, kissing him once more. “All the way,” he says when he pulls back a fraction. “I want to take it all the way,” he adds, and Javi’s eyes grow impossibly darker as understanding hits him.

“You mean – ?” he asks anyway, and Yuzu loves him, this man who wants him so bad and yet would stop to ask.

“Make love to me,” Yuzu says, and threads his fingers through Javi’s, pressing their palms together. Javi’s eyes turn soft, and he smiles, then leans up to press a gentle kiss to Yuzu’s mouth.

“Yes, sir,” he says, grins, and then he’s kissing Yuzu for real once again, and it is messy and hot and it’s making Yuzu’s heart hammer wildly inside his chest.

Javi flips them over, pinning Yuzu down with his weight for a moment, just looking at him. “You’ve got lube?” he then asks, and Yuzu jerks his head towards his bedside table, the one he hopes his mother hasn’t opened by accident.

When Javi comes back, small bottle and a condom tossed on the bed beside them, Yuzu can barely breathe in anticipation. His whole body feels like it is on fire, and he can’t speak, the pressure inside his chest not from the deadly plant that’s well and truly dying inside him, but from the way his love for Javi swells inside him, something way more beautiful blooming in place of the Hanahaki flower.

“You’ve no idea how many times I’ve dreamt of this in the past months,” Javi says, and rubs at Yuzu’s opening, making his nerve-endings twitch. He pushes a slow, careful finger inside, and Yuzu tenses up at the breach, at the luscious way Javi’s finger stretches him, a tiny spark of pain joining the pleasure.

He wants to tell Javi that he has dreamt of this for years, too, in moments of weakness when he allowed himself to indulge in such fantasies. He wants to tell him how many times he’s lain there in his bed, spent and sobbing as the realization that he will never have this hit in post-orgasmic bliss. And yet here they are.

Javi adds another finger, and then a final, third one, curling them inside Yuzu, making Yuzu arch and push against him.

“So beautiful, you’re so beautiful,” Javi mutters, and Yuzu flushes under his praise, welcoming it, even though it usually irked him when others called him that in bed, rather than hot or sexy, or some other of those other impersonal words that Yuzu thought were appropriate for fucking. Beautiful had felt reserved for special things, for special moments, like the fleeting bliss of a perfect performance, like wearing feathers and diamonds under gala lighting.

But when Javi says it, it feels different, and Yuzu basks in it, in the way Javi’s eyes eat up his face, his skin, the way his body moves under Javi’s touch.

“Javi,” he pleads. “Please.” He doesn’t need to say more than that, he knows it, and Javi knows exactly what Yuzu wants and needs, just like he always has. He removes his hand, and sits up to roll on the condom, then runs a palm up the inside of Yuzu’s thigh, pushing it a little higher. Yuzu feels bare and vulnerable, he doesn’t usually do it this way, preferring almost always to be in control, seated on top… and yet this is perfect, the way his muscles stretch as Javi leans down onto him, bringing Yuzu’s knee up, the way Javi anchors him.

Then Javi’s pushing inside him, and Yuzu closes his eyes and breathes, just breathes for a moment.

“Good?” Javi asks, and Yuzu opens his eyes to find Javi studying his face, wearing an expression of utter concentration as he focuses on staying still.

“Hai,” Yuzu exhales, and lets go of the calm he’s been trying to maintain, letting himself feel everything. The exquisite fullness. The arousal that’s coursing through his veins. The way his head feels almost dizzy when he thinks about this, of Javi inside his body, as close as he can be.

“Alright,” Javi says, and laughs a little in relief, then moves, careful and slow, and Yuzu wants to cry from how good it feels. He pushes up against Javi on his next thrust, clinging on to Javi’s shoulders, Javi’s back, pulling Javi down into a kiss, their mouths melting together.

He’s not sure if he begs Javi to go faster, harder, at some point. His head is swimming, his breath coming in fast and sharp, his heartbeat echoing everywhere – his head, his dick, his fingertips. But even if he doesn’t say it, Javi does exactly that, picking up the pace, making Yuzu bite his lip as he tries to stay quiet. Yuzu welcomes it, the increasingly frantic rhythm of their movements, the slickness of sweat where he slides his hands down Javi’s back, clutches at his ass, pulling him in deeper, the starburst beneath his eyelids as Javi hits the right spot over and over again. Javi slides his hand between their bodies, stroking Yuzu – awkwardly and out of pace, but even that is perfect, and Yuzu feels the sweet ache build in his abdomen, like a tidal wave threatening to crash.

And then suddenly it’s all too much, his body is convulsing, and he’s biting into Javi’s shoulder to muffle his cry, tears coming out of his eyes as he comes all over Javi’s palm, trashing under him.

He’s vaguely aware of Javi stilling above him, and he lifts his arm, leaden as it is, and reaches for Javi’s hips, to make him move again. “Come,” he whispers, and he’s not even sure which language he is speaking. But Javi gets it, and moves a few more times, sharp quick thrusts that make Yuzu’s oversensitive body burn in the best ways, and then Javi tenses up above and inside him, and comes, his face pressed into Yuzu’s neck to keep quiet.

They stay there for a while, a mess of limbs and fluids, before Javi lifts his head and pushes off of Yuzu. Yuzu whines as he pulls out, mourning the loss, and paws at Javi like a mindless kitten, wanting him back.

“It’s okay,” Javi tells him, and kisses his forehead. “I’ll be right back,” he says, and comes back a moment later indeed, carrying a damp towel from Yuzu’s ensuite bathroom so he can clean him up.  

Yuzu curls around him when he lies back down, his arms coming up around Javi’s neck on instinct.

“Aishiteru yo,” he mumbles into Javi’s temple, and thinks that perhaps he should say it in English, so that Javi would understand, just like he has written it in all those letters he never sent, but it doesn’t seem enough, not when he’s talked about loving skating, and loving Pooh, and all that before.

He feels Javi smile against his cheek, and his arms tighten where he is holding Yuzu. “I love you, too,” he says, and so do his eyes, when he catches Yuzu’s gaze. He presses his hand to Yuzu’s chest between them, not quite his heart, but more where breath makes Yuzu’s ribcage move up and down. “Remember it, okay? I love you.”

Yuzu nods, eyes suddenly full of tears, and he may have almost died for this… but it has been worth it.

*

The sun is warm upon his skin, and the breeze makes his t-shirt ripple as he waits for Javi, squinting towards the stretch of blue some distance off, wondering if the water is warm enough already, wondering if the sand is as soft as it looks.

Javi comes out of the shop, hands Yuzu his frozen strawberry smoothie, and smiles. “Let’s go,” he says, grinning under his sunglasses. He looks handsome, Yuzu thinks, despite the smattering of silver hairs that have been popping up more now that Javi has his own set of skaters to coach at the Cricket Club – or perhaps he looks handsome because of it, the silver marking the passage of time, time they have spent side by side.

Yuzu lets himself be led, his free hand linked with Javi’s, marveling at how easy it feels, even if the past half year has been anything but easy – what with the battle for the Olympic gold, and his subsequent coming out, the mess of being dragged through the media. It feels liberating now, to be here, in public, holding Javi’s hand.

He takes his flip-flops off as they hit the beach, giggling at the warm sand tickling his feet. Javi makes him reapply sunscreen once they settle down by the water, and Yuzu fusses, but secretly enjoys the way Javi kneads at his back as he spreads the lotion over his skin.

He does the same for Javi, though Javi – unlike him – doesn’t really need it just yet. He stops over the tattoo on the left side of Javi’s chest, tracing the thin lines of it with his finger, the bloom with its unfurling leaves, the splash of red color over the black outlines. Carnation.

It makes his heart flutter, still. It is not an anxious flutter, though, infused with dread and dark memories. No.

So that you know that I carry you in my heart, always, Javi had said when he had shown Yuzu the tattoo artist’s sketch, before getting it etched into his skin. So that you never forget. It’s forever.

Yuzu smiles now, and kisses Javi’s nose, squinting at him.

“Can we swim?” he asks.

“You’ll wash off all the sunscreen,” Javi protests, but gets up anyways when Yuzu pouts at him, pulling Yuzu up with him. “I’m so whipped for you,” he tells him, and kisses him, and then starts sprinting towards and into the water.

It is cold. And Yuzu loves it, loves it when Javi splashes at him, and topples him into the waves, coughing as he inhales some salty water. He has never felt so in love. And so alive.