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Yuri!!! on Ice
Bartender & Athlete
LEE SEUNG GIL [이 승길]Yuri!!! on Ice
It was so easy to land a triple, it was dull. The point count was dismal compared to what a quad could give. But, a triple wouldn't be allowed until he was 16 and in his debut... But that wouldn't stop him from perfecting them, to achieve his goal to be the first to land a quad... Even if his bitch of a coach would continually screech at him for trying to do them. Did he ever listen? No. Especially not to a woman. Why he had her as a coach was beyond him; he revolted when she touched him when she hugged him when she kissed him…
There was a crucial moment that was missed on the landing that sent the teen tumbling to the ice, forehead crashing to the solid water, before his elbow made impact, then his back. The slide of bare skin on less than smooth ice left the 13-year-old gasping out, tears pricking his eyes as he gazed upward at the lights. A red ooze blurred the vision of his right eye, the thick liquid causing the optic to burn. That was when the idiot of the rink came into his vision. The fresh-faced French-Canadian, was holding out his palm with a bright smile and even glitters— or were those stars from a concussion?
Lee Seung Gil was pretty sure, even though he wanted to stand on his own and skate away from the bubbly fresh face, he would probably just fall again without assistance. Relenting, his arm lifted, and his palm pressed to the younger skater. Without warning, he was hoisted up to his feet, which he was a little wobbly on. Lifting his own fingers, blood was wiped from his eye and brow, before the elder looked to the grinning younger.
“Gomabseubnida…” he grumbled softly, before limping his way to his coach, and the waiting lashing he would get as she bandaged his bleeding wounds. She would likely ban him from doing triples again, but it was the hag’s fault he had fallen. If only he had the balls to fire her, but he didn’t know very good English, and most coaches only spoke English. Fingers lifted to catch the wall, but it seemed he wasn’t fast enough to lift his arms, his palms crashing into the wall to fast to stop himself properly, his stomach crashing into the plastic and wood with a loud sound.
Then suddenly the young Korean realised he was flat out on the ice again, distantly hearing his name, mixed with a litany of language he could not comprehend. He knew the promenade language was English; he understood enough English to understand what it was-- this was a summer camp in California for junior skaters that competed internationally, after all. It had been an opportunity, Seung Gil had hoped, to size up the competition that he would face… This was just the first day, and he had planned to intimidate the others with his abilities… but that had come crashing down… literally.
Seung Gil felt the lights above him burning his eyes; they were far too bright, right? He was dazed like he couldn’t really focus on the languages or the faces or even his own thoughts. That was bad, right? He realised, to his shock, he could only focus on the concern filled ice blues that hovered over his face, and the sweet sounding words that lulled from his lips. Seung Gil would be angry about this humiliation when his head stopped swimming…
He loved the colour blue…
There wasn’t any hesitation in the kiss that was pressed into him, no. It was forceful, needy, rougher than what the Korean had expected from a 14-year-old, and while he couldn’t complain that he was happy to be kissing the boy— he was also so scared of being caught. The girls were skating, but they were required to be there. Jean-Jacques had whispered that he wanted to show something to Seung Gil. And now the taller male had him pinned to the plaster walls in a broom closet of some stupid rink in the middle of Moscow while the girls skated their junior GPF runs.
And it was deliciously sinful. Fingers curling into the red and white jacket the taller teen wore, a moan slipping as his first kiss was skilfully stolen by the younger Canadian. Pulling away with a deep crimson flush, the Korean turned his head away from those gorgeous smokey blues filled with raging teenaged lust. “Cheong…” The Korean said the only word he knew that remotely sounded like the younger’s name, a double whammy as it was a word Seung Gil would use to describe his favourite shade of blue, too. “No…” He whispered fruitlessly in accented English as the taller teen’s lips found his neck.
There was no stopping this, this was a runaway train that was on fire, and it was going to crash one way or another. Be it in the broom closet they now resided, concealed within, or later in his own unchaperoned hotel room. It was an inevitable fate; the Korean could feel it in his very soul as the flames of passion engulfed him from Jean. Pulling from his exposed and offered neck with an audible pop, leaving the poor Asian teen shaken with the knowledge of what was left behind, the sweet lilt of French flowed from those kiss-swollen lips, transformed by the gravelly need that gripped the almost 15-year-old as the younger murmured in husky french against his lips, “Jean, oui.”
Ah, Shibal. A palm pressed to the taller’s forehead, pushing him away with a hiss, his other hand pressing to his now evidence riddled neck, “Idiot.” The Korean spat out, “You will get us caught.” The scolding was meet with a soft laugh, even though the push had caused the Canadian’s head to hit a shelf covered with cleaning products. Seung Gil, in the five months of knowing this fool, still could not figure him out… And in those few months, the younger had grown taller than him, which pissed the elder off to no end. And now he was laughing!?
“Agari dakcho, Jot!” The Korean slurs were slung in utter humiliation, not hate, the elder’s pride damaged by circumstance. “Who uses teeth in kiss!?” Seung Gil was sure that if Jean had bit down on his bottom lip any harder, there would have been blood. It was infuriation the Korean felt, at his own erection, at his own desires, at his own pleasures that the younger man had pressed into him.
Pushing the Canadian again for good measure, the elder teen walked to the door to yank it open to escape. Fingers wound around the knob that held the door shut from the world beyond the space that could barely contain two comfortable, and twisted his hand just to hear a deafening click and the refusal for the door to turn. The blush that Jean had pushed out of the usually very stoic teen quickly drained, his pleasure turning to horror.
“It is locked…” The words held a hint of panic, the broken and unsure English of the 15-year-old an octave higher than he had intended. The Canadian, who had settled back to let his Korean ice prince escape blinked a few times before gently moving his aside via his hips and try himself. There was no give in the knob, and which left the Asian holding his head in his left palm and muttering in annoyed Korean. “This your fault.” Was hissed out so that the man understood.
Fear was quickly subsided when those gentle fingers of the French Canadian touched his cheek, and his eyes lifted slowly to behold those eyes that held the elder captivated. “Don’t fret, Mon pêche… We’ll get out of here. I’ll get us out.”
Fuck I hate him so much sometimes…. The Korean hissed internally as he was drawn, oh so willingly, into another kiss…
This was his time, his debut into the Senior world. He had been cursed to be born five days after the required date to start the countdown to a year being 15 then some for his debut, thus having to wait until he was 17 years of age to skate out for the first time. It was like a dream, to be out of JJ’s shadow on the ice and free to unleash his ability for a year before he knew he would have to once again battle against JJ. His chosen theme was the first of his chosen seven… He would do the seven deadly sins for his years as a senior— No more shitty themes chosen for him by his coach. Who the fuck cares about Freedom? Magic? No, he wanted to make a splash, and what was the best way to start then sinfully?
He would start with the deadliest of sins, PRIDE. Korean Pride would ooze from his programs, having garnished permission from an up and coming K-Pop band to use one of their songs for his free skate, and a beautiful traditional melody for his short, in which he would don a modified Hanbok in his favourite shade of blue for. He was so sure he could at least garnish a place in the GPF, and take on the world. He was beyond ready, ready to make his country proud, and fulfil his first senior year with a few medals. He had calculated his base points and knew if he executed everything perfectly, he would have enough to at least place…
But as he sat in the kiss and cry with the hag he could not stand, holding tight to a few roses that were thrown to him, he watched in shock and awe as the score flashed on the screen. It was his base, plus a few points… which wasn’t normal. He couldn’t understand why he had only earned his base and nothing else. But, he had enough to place, and currently found himself in second… But as he watched the next skate, the esteemed and beloved Viktor Nikiforov, Seung Gil felt his heart slowly start to sink. He was only the third of six skaters, and there was something Viktor had while he did his jumps, his spins, his long silver locks spilling so beautifully over his shoulder as he did a perfect spin that captivated the audience.
But it wasn’t this display that had the Korean realising he was no longer in the Juniors, but the big leagues… It was the subtitles of the Russian that were being spoken, displayed in stark and damning English. They were talking about his performance, how it was lacklustre, how he needed more showmanship, how the South Korean would likely need to improve his presence on the ice, like Victor… The interviewer continued to hold his mic to Seung Gil's lips, repeating his question that fell upon deaf ears. Seung Gil couldn’t be fucked to tell the man what his favourite jump was, couldn't be assed to answer any of his stupid questions. He realised he needed to yell at that nopa about her lack of coaching skills, the inability to prepare him for this...
Finding Park Min So in the middle of an interview with a reporter from Seoul, Seung Gil’s anger was swelling. How many times had she watched him practising the routines and never mentioned the fact that he put no emotion into his routines, never gave him the tips he needed to succeed in this sport? He waited, visibly shaken and on the edge of a nervous breakdown, as she continued to answer questions about his performance, and her goals for him. She spoke of Sochi, and how he would be a contender. Internally, the Korean was screaming a litany of angry curses at the woman, the 17-year-old beyond ready to burst as the elder woman bowed to the man with the recorder, before turning to the male and tilting her head, “Everything you do is for Sochi.” She said her favourite mantra as if to remind him that the Olympics were more important than his personal performances.
He slumped a bit, his anger leaving him in an instant to give way to utter despair. Watching the woman, the detestable wench, walk away with a feeling of inadequateness festering in his soul. How would he defeat Viktor on the ice in Sochi if he couldn’t even place in the main events? Did she even think of that? The teen’s mind started to reel, thoughts of how to up his base, how to improve his technical score. Figure Skating was, honestly, a sport with points earned for the most arbitrary things. He would have to cut the flair on his costumes to prevent point deduction and put the flair into the colours and the outfit. He would have to work on jumps with untucked arms… But these points were… minuscule. Might squeak him into a third if he was lucky.
As he walked, he glanced to the TV, as the subtitles spoke of the jumps of a figure skater, explaining an axel and a toe loop, and how rotations worked. How a fall was better than failing to meet all the rotations, but putting extra rotations into a jump would add points. On the screen, Viktor landed a beautiful Triple Loop, followed by a single axel to set up for a toe loop.
It wasn’t common to see the South Korean figure skater smile, but he was now, as the idea of how to wow the world, how to put his name in the history books and how to blow his points base out of the water looked him in the face. He would figure it out, get the proper height to execute it, and would do it as many times as needed to prove the point that South Korea, that Lee Seung Gil didn’t need his terrible coach, didn’t need ridicule. No, they would all be speaking his name for years and years to come, as the first figure skater to perfectly land the “impossible jump”, a Quad Loop.
It wasn’t fair how deliciously sinful it was, to be on his knees before the Canadian while his tongue lapped up the precious seed he offered. They were both so wasted, thank god for Germany and the lack of a drinking age law. It had been a wild night of endless booze and self-degradation that led them to this shitty gay club in downtown Berlin, in this disgusting bathroom stall, with JJ pressed to the door, dick out with the Korean’s lips skilfully drinking down a second load of cum like it was his favourite treat. Three years had passed since they shared their first kiss in that cramped broom closet, and it set the tone for what they had become now.
The man gripped his hair and tilted his head back, moaning that delicious moan as the Korean’s mouth skilfully wrapped around the still throbbing cock, looking for a third helping of hot semen before he was pulled away with a loud whine. “Seung Gil… You’ll make your stomach sick.” the words purred down at him, his eyes lifting to gaze at the handsome 17-year-old. His debut had seen them both placing into the GPF, and they had both skated as if their lives depended upon winning, just to fall short. The Fifth Place winner gazed up at the Fourth, and arm wrapping around his legs as he gave him nothing but love in his eyes.
JJ, Seung Gil realised, made everything he did worth it. He made the long waits, the hours of practice, the hours of pain and long distance worth every bit. Kissing at his needy head, the teen purred at his beloved Canadian, “Then I won’t swallow.” The words were dripping in sexual desire, the Korean greedy for more of his cock, as his tongue lashed against the pink tip. He wanted to lavish his handsome lover with all the adoration he held, and sadly, only when he was drunk did his affectionate side come out. Usually, he distanced himself from JJ when in public, not for his own sake but for the Canadian’s. No, Seung Gil had walked out of the closet both in his personal life and in the public eye.
His parents had kicked him out of the house-- His father had, anyway. His mother still cared for him and helped him out whenever she could, but it wasn’t like he needed them to support himself. He had been supporting them; his income was double their own. Min So didn’t seem to bat an eye when he announced it when announcing his theme of Lust but had since become even colder toward him, to the point that Seung Gil was essentially his own coach and she was just a reminder of Sochi on repeat. He had no qualms about being out in the open, even if it was taboo in Korean— yet it didn’t change his fan base. In fact, it made it grow. Women loved gay men; it seemed.
And this gay man was showing love to his closeted beloved, the Canadian King as he had branded himself. His eyes flicked upward to gaze into those jewels of ice that graced his eyes, like the eyes of an angel, he muses as he sucked on the thickness, his fingers working his base and moving to fondle his balls playfully. Closing his eyes so that he could focus so that he could will his jaw to stop its ache, so he could bring his handsome king to completion, he pushed lower, before pulling back with a loud squelch.
He was yanked back by the hair, crying out in pain as the Canadian growled that he wanted more. More than his sweet mouth, more than his slutty lips. Before Seung Gil could protest, he was lifted from his knees; his form was forcefully turned so that it was parallel to the dirty toilet, palms pressing to the graffiti-littered wall with drawings of dicks, cuss words in a multitude of languages and phone numbers for a “succ” with five different country codes. He knew that the only memories he would hold of this night were the hickey that JJ was pressing into his neck and his drunk fingers fumbled with the button of his jeans. Once success was garnished by the Canadian, he felt his pants fall forcefully from his hips, dragging his boxers with them and exposing his ass to the cool air of the men’s room. One knee pressed to the toilet lid, ebony tinctures gazing back as JJ fished from his jacket pocket a vile of portable lube.
The Korean looked back at the wall, gasping at the realisation that JJ had prepared for sex anywhere with him, and something about that, deep in his soul, bothered him a bit. Were they just friend’s with benefits? Were they more? Seung Gil wasn’t given time to ponder these things as he felt the pressure of his lover filling him and husky words in his ear “Don’t space out on me yet, Seung Gil… I’m going to have you screaming for more before the night ends.”
Thoughts were lost, washed away by pleasure, utter and complete pleasure pushed into him roughly by the Canadian. He left bruises, he left bites, and left a J in hickeys on his back. And all Seung Gil could do to keep from screaming in his mother tongue greedy, needy words for more was bite down on his wrist until it bled.
Seung Gil let the fires of passion consume him.
“Come, Min-Hee.” He would pat his leg, the one-year-old Husky clambering to be near her master as he walked from the front door with a paper bag of delivery. She was a beautiful dog and highly uncommon in his home country. The Christmas season before, they had met in Berlin the day before the GPF and had spent the day together shopping and sightseeing. He had seen Min-Hee, as an adorable wee puppy, in a shop window of the historical section of the city, and felt his heart swell. JJ had been talking nonsense, something about a fangirl he met in high school or something, but Seung Gil had only been half listening when his eyes fell upon the puppies, and he was drawn into them like a moth to a flame.
“Mmmm?” JJ had noticed he was looking at the puppies and had stood behind him as he placed his hand on the glass as the puppy scratched at it, he had watched that smile bloom on the Korean’s face and watched as the elder melted in a way he had never seen for the husky. It was a shock when JJ left him alone for like an hour, waiting outside the restaurant they had a beautiful dinner at together. It was almost like a date, and now he was alone in the bitter cold with nothing but his dying phone and worry.
“SEUNG GIL!” Eyes lifted from the twitter feed he was scrolling down to look up at him… at JJ, then his eyes fell upon the puppy he had watched play a few hours ago, prancing happily with a red and green bow around her neck and a pink leash leading to her new master. Stooping to pet the beautiful dog, Seung Gil mused softly.
“You went to buy yourself a dog, JJ?” His fingers scratched at her ears, her cheeks. She was such beautiful dog, with such a beautiful disposition… He wanted to say he was jealous, that he had always wanted a dog. But he couldn’t ruin JJ’s fun. No, he was lucky to have bought himself such a sweet girl…
“No. I bought you a dog. Merry Christmas, Seung Gil.”
Ebony tinctures tore from the pup, looking up at the man as the leash was offered to him. There was shock on his face, he could feel it. Eyes blew wide as he looked between the offered lead, to the beaming Canadian, then back. Tentatively, the Korean took the leash, before lifting the puppy into his arms.
He had cried into her fur, he recalled, bawled like a baby at the overwhelming joy of owning a dog for the first time in his life. They had stood there for what felt like an hour until he finally calmed enough to get to the hotel. It was likely more like ten minutes, but JJ had been beaming his stupid smile the whole time, trying to comfort the Korean and even placed a kiss to his temple.
A lot can change in a year…
They hadn’t been placed together that year in any of their competitions, something Seung Gil complained about to JJ in FaceTime, Text and SnapChat a few times, but as the circuit went on he seemed… more and more distracted. It wasn’t worrisome, JJ had been doing so well. Two silvers, Seung Gil could barely hold in his pride for the teen. He sat with his Bibimbap in one hand, as his other set up the live stream so he could cheer for his beloved Canadian. Leaning back with his laptop on his lap and the husky curled into his leg, Seung Gil watched the interviews.
He saw JJ but realised he wasn’t alone as the interviewer pressed him for questions. On his arm was some Chinese woman, pressing her breasts against his arm as JJ spoke. Seung Gil’s eyes flicked from the screen to his phone, before looking back. This was live; this was a live event, a Live interview. He couldn’t just call JJ and ask who the fuck was on his arm.
But when her lips pressed to his cheek, and he didn’t do anything but smile, his phone was in his hand and rapidly working the English onto the screen, the Korean so angry he was shaking mad. He pressed send and waited. He watched as the chime, the text tone he put on Canadian’s phone, went off. He watched the Canadian pull from the woman to pull out his phone and studied JJ’s reaction as he read the text. He watched the colour drain slightly; those ice blue eyes flicker with fear before he smiled at the bitch and interviewer.
Then pocket his phone without even giving him a reply.
There was a moment, a real moment that Seung Gil thought he was going to throw up. JJ kept the woman, Isabella, at an arm's length the rest of the interview, which seemed to upset her, and he saw the fear hidden behind his eyes as he cut the interview short to go ‘get ready’ he had said. His hand pressed to the Chinese woman’s back, and he whispered into her ear as the camera panned away from their retreating forms.
Slamming the lid shut, and pushing his laptop from himself violently, the Korean scooped up his dog and curled around her, sobbing into her soft fur for the second time in her life… but this time there was no joy. He wouldn't believe the excuses, he refused. Whatever reason the man tried to tell him, this was the final straw.
He had wanted to give himself completely to the younger, put his fears aside and let himself be truthful to himself-- but now?
It was mid-summer, so hot outside that morning runs were now unbearable. But in the rink, it was like winter was settled in. No matter how cold it was though, Seung Gil was sweating as he worked on next big splash, to get not just another jump to his name. The Quad Loop wasn’t enough, now that he had felt the rush of breaking through, he was hell-bent on going higher, doing more. He would be the first man to land every form of the Quad, starting with the Axel, the Lutz, the Salchow, and he was so close to landing them. He had four rotations down by now; he just needed a higher jump to get that last half rotation for the Axel. Unlike JJ, his hight needed work, which meant he hardly had time for a break. His knees were bruised, his hands torn up in his gloves from falling over and over, but he would never give up.
Skating to his water bottle and his phone, the sun burned low in the sky, breaching the skyline. Fellow skaters were starting to filter in as he unlocked his phone. He didn’t want to be assed to even say hello to his cunt for a coach, just sipping his water as she mumbled something about how she was happy he was working so hard. The Korean didn’t even care about PyeongChang; he didn’t care about medals or anything like that. Lifting his head, he retorted with a grunt and a whatever, before looking back his phone. And the pending texts he had with Phichit and Guang Hung Ji. They had dubbed it the “Asians chat” and dragged him into it (Yet Yuuri hadn’t accepted the invite yet), and it had been active after two days of being quiet. His eyes scanned the messages.
How will Seung Gil react, do you think?
But what greeted him wasn’t worrisome… it was earth-shattering. The water bottle slipped from his hand as his eyes drank in the image of JJ and that woman from the interviews, kissing as someone took the picture from above, the caption saying “Celebrating one month with my beloved Bella. I’m so happily in love.”
The world just stopped, his hand shaking as everything came to a standstill. The shock so complete that all focus was lost. JJ was in love… with someone else. He had been nothing; it hadn't even been a month yet... He had just been a nice kiss and a good fuck, nothing more. He was nothing. Nothing. Fingers tightened over his phone, his free palm lifting to press to his temples as all the happy memories of his past, of his teenage years with the man, so lost in utter love and bliss, even if it was nothing more than casual, became tainted. Became malicious. They had ended everything just a few weeks before, and JJ was already with another, had been with another. He was shaking; he watched the ice waver as head as he tilted forward, holding his head. He heard someone screaming in utter agony, before realising it was him.
Shifting on the ice, his form standing upright as he finally lost his last strand of composure. He lifted his hand above his head, and in a blind rage he threw his phone down as hard as he could, before screaming again as he gripped at his black under armour shirt. It was like he had just learnt of the death of someone he loved, of something special to him… something that was the rock of his life. It might as well have been.
Seung Gil didn’t feel the eyes of everyone in the rink area looking at the usually so stoic and secretive Star of their troop having a meltdown; no one could move as he skated to the exit, to yank off his skates. Only one was brave enough to pick up the broken phone and hold it out to her elder as he struggled to get his skates off. He screamed at Min So to not ‘fucking touch him’, crudely, before he grabbed his phone away from the junior. Once his sneakers were on, the crying man was out the building and running.
He couldn’t stop running once he started, never mind his apartment was across the river and 8 miles away in the busy city. He couldn’t stop the running, he couldn’t stop the pain, he couldn’t stop the tears.
Everything he did, had done, was to be closer to that man, all for the illusion… the illusion of his love. It had been a perfect illusion, perfectly executed, perfectly fooled. He hated him. Seung Gil was slowly murdering every part of him that still loved that man as he ran. He was mentally cutting his emotions down, destroying his heart and placing a steel wall around it to never, NEVER let another in. If he hated women before, he now LOATHED them.
His hands planted on a car that stopped just shy of hitting him, the Korean panting as he was cursed by the elder within, but Seung Gil was to lost to even be bothered to apologise, to bow, to show proper respects. He could feel the bruise of the car’s license plate blooming onto his skin, but he didn’t care.
His whole body ached, begged him to stop as he ran towards his neighbourhood. His muscles had been pushed beyond their limit as he turned down his long street. His lungs burned so completely as he took the stairs two at a time to get to his door. His knees were ready to collapse as he opened the door and looked down at the dog that had been a blessed gift from the man. Pushing past her welcome, the Korean started to collect things from his flat. Pictures, gifts, mementos, and trinkets that held so many memories.
Each was put in a box, every picture ripped in half as he threw them in, anything that could be broken was, anything valuable was tossed in. His eyes fell on Min-Hee, his rage boiling as she sunk to the floor. Seung Gil had never looked at her like that before, and it clearly scared her to the point of pissing herself. He hesitated, before sighing and finally dropping to his knees, his arms coiling around the only creature in the world that loved him.
“Min-Hee… You are a good girl.” He murmured softly, before moving to gather a towel to clean the floor. He would burn everything in the box, burning his humanity with the items. But he needed to end it, on his terms. JJ had asked him to be his, and Seung Gil had never responded to him, out of fear of being hurt... He had asked, and Seung Gil had stubbed up... And JJ... JJ hadn't meant it at all, clearly.
Pulling out his phone, he opened the standard texting app and stood there, his soul burning in red-hot rage as he texted the man. The final nail had been struck into the coffin of teenaged Seung Gil and thus was the birth of his new self.
It was snowing, and Min-Hee was so excited to be in the snow. He had so much to digest about what he watched the last two days, what he had missed out on. He had wanted to prove to the world he was okay, but he wasn’t. He had moved on, he understood now, he didn’t care that JJ had proposed to his girlfriend. He was so clearly head over heels for her, and he was happy. That’s what mattered, honestly. Even if he was slowly dying from everything that happened, he wanted her— he needed her. And that was fine. It was fine.
Looking down as the husky that ran back and forth excitedly in the snow, he couldn’t help but smile of so slightly to himself. JJ had done the impossible and had used his own ace to clinch his place on the podium. He almost felt bad for Otabek, the poor guy had a wonderful routine, both, and had such command of the ice. But Yuri had left him breathless. He had used the advice he gave after Rostelecom Cup. Those technical points placed him on top, and he couldn’t help but feel some sense of pride. It was a risk, a huge risk, to lift his arms, to not tuck them. But it had taken his performance to the next level, to the Olympic level, if Seung Gil knew anything about it. Yuri would surpass Viktor, with ease.
Boots crunched in the snow, his attention being stolen from the falling snow and his thoughts to his beloved husky as she dragged a huge tree limb around, growling playfully. There was a single chuckle that fell from his parted lips, his breath lingering long after the laugh had fallen silent, his head tilting as he pushed his naked hands deeper into his coat.
JJ’s failure had been a shock too, to see the man, such a gregarious, energetic man fall so completely… part of Seung Gil, the part that still wanted to clutch to his pain and his anger, the part he buried deep into his mind, screamed for him to celebrate it. But he couldn’t. No matter how much JJ had hurt him, he couldn’t be angry. No, he had forgiven him, he had almost completely let everything go. Holding on like that would just leave him in the state of stagnation he was in.
Dipping to scoop up some of the ice powder, his fingers coiled tightly around it, before gently patting it into a ball between his fingers, “Min-Hee~” He called to the sweet animal. She perked up, her snow-covered ears pointing to him as she watched him make a snowball. Tossing it up, he couldn’t stop his chuckle as she abandoned the stick for the ball, which instantly broke apart once she caught it.
Yuuri had done well, the only problem that plagued him was the same he faced. His showmanship had been lacking. He was too focused on the routine. It wasn't that he didn’t deserve his place, no, he had seen the man do better, it was just the GPF nerves. Seung Gil understood that. He had felt them himself. Fingers ran through his precious girl’s fur as he sighed softly.
He wouldn’t even let anyone in again; he didn’t need anyone else… He never wanted to feel the pain he had felt ever again. The only love he needed, he had decided, was the unconditional love of a dog's. Min-Hee would always be a blessing from a dark time for him. A tainted memory, but he could look back on it now and not feel pain. Kneeling down, he started to brush snow from his beloved dog’s coat. She was his rock now; she was his best friend and his only companion. She was who he shared his bed and baths with; she was like his needy child that needed only him and only had love to give.
“My good girl. I’m going to bring you home a gold medal one day. I’m not going to let you down… You’re the only one to not let me down…” he would coo, hugging her, “Let’s go inside, I’m freezing.”
Peeling his snow-covered jacket off, then leaning against the wall to pull his feet free from the sporty snow boots, the Korean felt his phone buzz. Pulling it from his pocket, he looked at the screen before smiling softly for a second at the picture Phichit had sent him, with an adorable “Wish you were here.”
He wouldn’t respond, he didn’t know how to. Phichit wouldn’t give up on trying to be friends with him, and that was fine. He didn’t mind the persistence. He was really cute, and maybe one day he would break down the walls he had built, crack the mask of indifference he wore in public… But he was also sure he would give up before then.
Setting his phone in the charging cradle, the Korean walked into his small home that he had recently started to rent. He had his own yard, he had his own space, and no one would invade it. It was his and Min-Hee’s, theirs alone. He could ignore his phone for a while to make himself food and sit and stew about these developments.
What struck him the most was JJ’s Quad Loop…The four continents would be fun, with two skaters using the elusive jump. But JJ wouldn’t be expecting Seung Gil’s new ace, and he couldn’t wait to see the Canadian’s face when he executed the Quad Axel or the Quad Lutz…
bad printed t-shirts
- Jumping - Seung Gil's greatest strength in his sport is his jumping ability. He is agile and quick, and he's always been known for having amazing jumping ability, even in his juniors. However, he is known as the first figure skater to land a ratified Quad Loop (and the first quad jump ever), which has written his name into the history books.
- Math - While this is a sad Asian trope, for Seung Gil, it is a reality. He is able to calculate his base scores while he is doing his routines, even to the point of being able to calculate a jumps score while executing it.
- Dance - Not just Ballet, even though he is very skilled in such a dance. Seung Gil is an expert at a few dances, having dedicated himself to the art of dance since he was a boy-- because Figure Skating is just a fancy dance on ice with technical moves using acrobatics in a way. Seung Gil has a passion for Salsa and Samba, but he's very good at K-Pop style dancing, too.
- Martial Arts - While Seung Gil is a figure skater by trade, his father is a Martial Artist, having awards in the sport along with boasting a black belt with numerous stripes on it. It's only natural he has passed these skills on to his only son, and Seung Gil proudly boasts a black belt himself with 3 stripes stitched into the belt. He's very flexible, a result of ballet and this skill.
- Personality - There is much to be desired with Seung Gil's personality or lack thereof. Only those close to the male know the true extent of his personality, not just the cold and distant front he puts on-- however most people will only know the coldness of the Korean.
- Showmanship - The reason Seung Gil does not do as well as he should is he lacks the ability to engage the crowds, and moreover the judges. He lacks command of the ice emotionally, and while smiling and showing to much facial expression can deduct some points, Seung Gil is stiff and way to calculated in his movements, taking away from the fluidity he could have.
- Fashion - Terrible. Seung Gil'll fashion sense is in the shitter, let's be honest. If he has to wear anything but sportswear, he calls his mother on skype or a facetime like app and will have her help him pick out an outfit that will look well. But t-shirt, jeans, runners... Jumpers and jogging clothes... that's his main go-to. Oops.
- Power - No, I don't mean "THE STRENGTH OF BEING MALE" because while he's twink AF Seung Gil is strong. By 'Power' I mean on the ice. It's again a case of not being able to complete himself to perfection in a competition. He's no powerhouse; he's pretty unassuming. Yet, he's been working on this.
Okay, first off, ow, how dare you.
Second, I love him so much, okay, Seung Gil is a minor character but you've given him so much well-deserved depth. It must be upsetting, getting pulled to a new universe before a big competition, but maybe his luck, and mood, will improve in Ipsum, away from bad memories? A new world with a chance for a fresh start and all that? Either way, I'm excited to see him, and how he'll settle in c:
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