Chapter 7: Sign of the Times

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Just stop your crying, it's a sign of the times

Their palms facing each other, Will's right leg crossed against Ocean's left as if to mark the spot of a pirate's treasure, they stay frozen for a half second. Then they are off, controlling their skates' edges as if the motions are as effortless as lifting fingers.

They clasp their hands before separating completely, making a sort of arch between them, meant to symbolize the gateway to heaven.

Will loves the feeling—of his body cutting through the wind, his hair ruffled immediately and ruining their stylists' hour of work. And even, admittedly, Ocean mimicking the moves beside him. The crowd is suspended in silence, and every small movement outside is drowned into a meaningless hum. The only thing Will can focus on is his skates matching each beat to the lyrics, breathing in tune to them. As they complete crossover's to gain speed—counterclockwise of the rink—Will resists the urge to glance at Ocean.

Because despite everything off the ice, they are one in the moment.

Welcome to the final show

The approach to their first jump is always the moment of rushing—all of the wind and the anxiety and adrenaline melding into one. Twisting around to skate forward, the view of the judges panel is in sight. But Will doesn't focus on that. Instead, he clenches his teeth and imagines that Ocean is the one lifting this one for him. And vice versa—always.

Hope you're wearing your best clothes

Just by the takeoff from the outside edge, Will can always tell whether he will land it clean. And he holds his breath, tucking his limbs together, judging his technique from the height and angle. When he lands cleanly on the back of his right, outside edge, the force seems almost enough to crush his knee to bits. As it always does. But the sound of the ice, being dug into holding his weight, sends a flow of relief through his veins.

Screw you for making this jump, Axel Paulsen.

Ocean lands just a moment later, not wavering in the slightest.

Will thinks, that although their synchronization was off the slightest, their landings should be enough to save them. By the rising clamor of the crowd, the majority seem to agree as well.

You can't bribe the door on your way to the sky

Will and Ocean can glance each other at the first time, letting the emotion on their faces match the theme of longing in the music. They draw together near the center of the rink, turning in short circlets along the way and position themselves so that Ocean is skating a foot behind his partner.

You look pretty good down here

Will lets himself decelerate, launching from his toe as Ocean grabs him from the waist. Even when he's lifted only an inch, he is now in Ocean's control, and the element of trust immobilizes him just as much it is freeing. Will takes hold of his partners shoulders, twisting around Ocean's back until he's horizontal in his arms.

The triple twist lift is effortless, and Will's vision swirls from the ceiling to the crowd to the floor. Caught and clean. Set back down while the cheers turns deafening.

But you ain't really good

A pause in the music. The silence allows them to regroup, joining their hands together and twisting like blue angels falling from the celestial sky.

Will remembers as they spin into position for the final half. He remembers—not the right angles of his skates, not the next set of dramatized hand movements for their choreography—but Ocean's sixteenth birthday party. More specifically, the conversation directly after. They were dining at some fancy Italian restaurant, the specific city they were in forgotten, as a present from Coach Burnaby

"I..." Ocean had started. "I would've rather celebrated my birthday back home than here. Like, on the beach rather than in the mainland."

"It is what it is," said Will. "This press tour is part of what allows to skate in the first place." Even back then, he didn't bother with any filters on honesty.

"Do you like skating with me?" Ocean said. The question was so unexpected that Will was taken aback, almost coughing up the swallowed chicken back on his plate.

Why does he always get sappy at the weirdest moments?  Will thought.

"I like skating with you, O."

"But do you like..." Ocean started then bit his tongue. "Never mind, Will. Thanks for going out to dinner with me."

Will nodded. "Let's focus on our spins for next practice. If we fall on that one, it really would be a shame."

The memory, like a spark of a promise, strengthens Will as the song makes a transition into the pre-chorus. This will be their time. When they are running empty from their opening elements, to prove to the judges that they have more fight than any other skating duo in the building.


A/N : Song from this chapter and the next is "Sign of the Times" by Harry Styles. Send it some love! 

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