Tommy doesn't go to breakfast.

He wakes up before everyone else- no alarm, because his roommates are still asleep and he doesn't want to risk waking them- stretches, grabs his skates and a protein bar and heads down to the rink.

He doesn't talk to his coach, in fact, his coach is probably still sleeping. His coach will probably have a nice warm breakfast and make his way down when he deems necessary. But still, he'll be expecting Tommy to have done his reps. So, he does the same thing that he always does whenever someone expects something of him- he delivers.

Camel to donut to a one handed Y-spin. Over and over and over. After every routine, he pulls himself out into a glide to give himself just a half a second to breath. The wind rushes against his cheeks, Tommy swallows the coldness down, hoping it will settle his stomach.

He goes and goes and goes until his fingers are numb, and then he puts on his gloves and does ten more. Tommy curves around the rink for just one more go, when he catches sight of a bunch of guys in gear walking in through the door. They're dressed in red and black and have hockey skates and gym bags in their hands.

"Hey!" One of them yells- the one with shaggy black hair tied back by a red headband. "We've this rink scheduled for right now, man. Who do you think you are?"

Tommy tenses, barely resisting the urge to scoot back on the ice. Then another guy, with pink hair, reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back.

"Nice skatin' kid."