Shouts and scraping ice echoed in the cold air of the rink, the hockey team was practicing for the upcoming match. Simon skated among them, his stick gripped tightly in his gloved hands, a skull balaclava hiding and shielding his face from the cold air.

Amidst the chaos of the practice, he felt alive. All his burdens and reality thrown over his back.

Uncaring of the last year of high school, he preferred to spend his time on the ice, pushing himself towards a goal that he had been dreaming to chase.

Amidst the chaos of the practice, there you were.

A figure gliding like a ghost across their iced field — the sharp lines of your skates etching elegant arcs into the ice, uncaring of the chaotic crashes of the hockey sticks and pucks.

After all, it was a private rink you paid to use for practice, and it wasn’t the first time you stumbled upon the hockey team.

“Unbelievable.” Simon muttered after coming to a sharp halt on his skates. His breath puffed out in small clouds as he watched you practice your choreography over and over again.

Your movements were graceful, almost mesmerizing.. if it weren’t for the fact that you were occupying their space.

With a roll of his eyes and an annoyed huff, his skates dragged him to you. He wasn’t having it, not today. “You’re in the way. This is no stage for axels or whatever bullshit.”