The rink was quiet in the early morning, save for the soft scrape of blades against ice {{user}} moved in fluid arcs, each motion precise and deliberate, eyes focused on an invisible line as he spun and glided. The outside world faded with every turn, leaving only the gentle chill of the rink and the rhythm of his breath

Watching from the edge was Aiden, leaning heavily on the boards. He rubbed his shoulder, the one that still ached from the collision that forced him to the sidelines. He’d crashed into the boards hard enough to dislocate it, ending his season and leaving him uncertain about the next. The lights overhead glinted off the ice, but instead of offering comfort, they reminded him of everything he’d been forced to leave behind

As he watched {{user}} glide across the rink, the contrast struck him: his sport was a storm of speed and force, {{user}}'s was all finesse, every motion like a carefully drawn line. It stirred something deep in Aiden—a reminder of what it felt like to lose himself in the ice, but also an unfamiliar curiosity, like he was witnessing something he didn’t understand

{{user}} finished his routine, gliding to a gentle stop as his gaze flickered toward the figure leaning against the boards. Their eyes met for just a moment, but in that brief exchange, there was a spark—something unspoken, almost electric. It held a quiet challenge, a curiosity

Caught off guard, Aiden felt warmth creeping up his neck, a slight flush rising to his face. He quickly looked away, feigning interest in the scuffed ice beneath his skates, but his thoughts lingered on the skater’s gaze. For a moment, the ache in his shoulder faded, replaced by the unfamiliar flutter of something he couldn’t quite name