LIKE THE FIRST SNOW

sehun-centric; light vibes of sehun/suho | ~1200 words | pg | ice skating!au

Try harder, he said, so Sehun does, in all moments of his life.

He can't quite remember when it has become his life motto, but whenever he hits an all time low, he remembers that voice - a deep baritone, words permeated with underlying tones of disappointment. It has kept Sehun going, the little boy inside of him wanting nothing more than words of praise, acknowledgement, and possibly a smile. He can't remember the last time his father had looked proud when standing next to him. When he looks at his father now, he only sees fatigue, barely concealed behind a fake smile and even faker words of satisfaction.

Being second is not good enough, Oh Sejun has always preached, and five year old Sehun has gladly soaked up every word his father, a renowned ice skater – and his idol – has said.

"Being second is no good," Oh Sejun says later that night when they're on their way home, away from cameras and flashlights, photographers and journalists. Mr. Oh is driving, eyes never straying from the road, but that doesn't keep him from talking, one word spurring another.

"I know," Sehun whispers in reply, more to himself than to anyone. His eyes are closed, lest he would start crying. He's tired, but most of all, he is frustrated with himself. Why did things turn out like this?





At the age of five, Sehun stood on the ice rink for the first time in his life, although he fell in love with the sports earlier. When people ask him what makes him love what he is doing so much, all Sehun can do is shrug. He doesn’t know either. The only thing he knows for sure is his profound love for this sports. He loves the exertion, the feeling of satisfaction that comes after perfecting a new jump or figure, and most of all, he loves being one with the music, a moment that makes him forget everything around him, both the good things and the things that weigh him down.

But maybe, the answer to that question is much simpler. He might just be craving for some attention from his constantly busy father who had started training new talents so he wouldn’t have to part from the ice rink after spending dozens of years on it.





His performances lately have lost all their glamor. Sehun doesn’t need to look at the reports and news coverage to know that, neither does he need to look at his father. He can feel it. Something is amiss, causing him to struggle. It’s not so much the different elements that make him stumble for he manages to execute them and land perfectly after a jump, never losing his balance, but when put together into a choreography he can’t cast a spell over the audience anymore.

“Must be your age,” his father tells him. Sehun just nods. He’s only twenty-three and those words sting, but that must be it. The media is saying the same: Sehun has lost his magic. After y