Breathe in. Breathe out. Relax.

Kyungsoo repeated those words in his mind as he wiped the ice from his skates’ blades, keeping his eyes lowered. He could feel his annoyance building, but he brushed it away as he tried to find where his routine was in the music that played over the speakers. Of course he would fall now, of all times. The routine had been perfect when he was alone, but now it was ruined.

It was a rare thing, indeed, for the ice rink to be empty of other competitors, and Kyungsoo had gone through quite the process to reserve the rink for himself, if only for an hour or two. The emptiness calmed him. He could go through his routine with his music playing and give his full attention to his moves.

He hated sharing the ice with others, always had. It was one of the main reasons he was a solo skater. He had tried to compete in couples once, a task assigned by his trainer as a bonding experience within his team, but he could never focus. Another person on the ice was distracting.

It wasn’t an ego thing. He would gladly share the spotlight with others if they deserved it. He wasn’t above admiring another skater’s skill, either. He just couldn’t handle having another person to worry about while he skated. His routines were intense, technically challenging, and he was a perfectionist. He would be on the ice for hours, going through every move over and over again until it was second nature. Adding another person into the mix, who could throw him off or – God forbid – botch a jump, was not an option. He dreaded sharing the ice during warm ups in competitions because of his need to keep tabs on the others’ movements. Where was that skater going to jump? Was he getting too close to that skater’s spin? What happens if they collide?

He was constantly aware of the other person’s actions, to the point where he would forget his own moves and make ridiculously simple mistakes. He could perform in front of hundreds, thousands if you count television coverage, but put another skater on the ice with him and he crumbles, tripping over his skates and falling like it is his first time on the ice. All of his years of training, gone in an instant.

It wasn’t uncommon to mess up. Ice skaters fall all of the time, even at the Olympic level. But for a technical skater like Kyungsoo, it is his worst nightmare.

It was exhausting to be aware of other skaters. Therefore, he stuck to his solos and happily took any opportunity to have the ice to himself during practice, much like this morning when he first arrived.

But now Jongin was here.

The younger man had strolled right into the arena without a care in the world, skates thrown over his shoulder and head bobbing to whatever music was blaring from the headphones he wore. The clock on the wall told Kyungsoo he still had the ice for fifteen minutes, but Jongin had apparently shown up early. And that was all it took for Kyungsoo to lose his footing.

It was only a double salchow, a jump he had perfected years ago, but his blade caught the ice wrong on the way down and suddenly he was hurdling towards the ground. He landed hard on his side and slid a few feet, hands dragging along the surface to slow his momentum. Kyungsoo was up in an instant, trying to find his place in the routine and ignoring the sharp ache in his hip as if nothing had happened. But despite the nonchalant attitude he tried to emote to the younger skater, Jongin - ever the emotion-driven individual - had paused and given his full attention to the ice. Jongin had seen the fall and was now watching him carefully, headphones pulled away as if expecting Kyungsoo to call out for help. It was only a fall, yet Jongin was poised and ready to rush to his aid if he needed it, as if Kyungsoo couldn’t handle a little pain.

It was embarrassing. It was frustrating. And it was all Jongin’s fault.