Chapter Text
The airport lights were already fully on, like it was midday instead of five in the morning.
Luca stood near his gate with his backpack slung over one shoulder, reading the departure screen for the third time even though nothing had changed. Still Zurich, still on time. He adjusted his glasses and blinked slowly. His body felt heavy, and his side was still sore from a hard check he’d taken from a Philadelphia defenseman last night.
On the late post-game flight back to Ottawa, he’d closed his eyes but never properly slept. Too much adrenaline still sitting under his ribs, and then too little time. Plus, he’d been sitting next to Hazy, who loved to use flights to explain the nuances of the Marvel Cinematic Universe to Luca if they wound up as seatmates.
He rolled his neck once and headed toward the Starbucks.
The line was short. A few travelers in business suits and one woman pushing a stroller while the three-year-old sitting in it watched Cocomelon without headphones, much to Luca’s dismay. He kept his hands tucked in his pockets and tried not to think about the fact that in less than 12 hours he would be back in Switzerland, and then in Milan, and then at the Olympics, which still felt abstract, like something that was happening slightly to the left of his real life.
When it was his turn, he ordered a black coffee. The cup warmed his hands as he walked back toward the gate. The terminal hummed quietly with rolling suitcases and distant boarding calls while the smell of something fried drifted from further down the concourse.
He was passing a Chili’s Too when he heard it.
“…now on the ice, Evan Whittaker and Jade Koriyama of Team USA…”
He slowed down without really meaning to.
A TV above the bar showed the Olympic broadcast, the arena in Milan bright and loud compared to the gray airport morning. It was the pairs competition. He would not have stopped for figure skating on a normal day. He didn’t really follow the sport.
But he did recognize the name.
He stepped a little to the side of the walkway, just out of the way of the main flow of people. On the screen, Evan stood at center ice, his hand at Jade’s waist, as they waited for the music to start.
He looked older. Obviously. Taller than Luca remembered from school, too. His shoulders were broader, his jaw was sharper. The camera caught him in profile for a second, his expression focused.
Luca took a small sip of his coffee and watched.
He had known Evan in the loose, school-corridor way of knowing someone. Same grade. Same classes sometimes. They had been friendly, but not close. Evan had always been casually charismatic in a way that Luca had never known how to be: easy smiles, easy jokes, switching between languages like it was nothing. People seemed to orbit around him without any effort on his part.
Luca had mostly listened to him. Answered when spoken to, desperately trying not to say the wrong thing.
At some point, when they were thirteen or fourteen, Evan had started being shorter with him. Less patient. A little cutting, sometimes. Luca had never quite understood why. He had replayed conversations in his head, wondering if he had been dull or awkward or accidentally rude.
He had settled on the simplest explanation: Evan eventually stopped bothering with him because Luca was too quiet. A little stiff. Not very interesting. That would have been reasonable.
Not that it mattered much, since Evan had moved back to the United States shortly after.
On the television screen, the music began.
They moved into the opening sequence, their blades carving clean lines across the ice in a way that hockey skates never could. Luca didn’t know the names of any of the elements, but he could see the control in it. Evan lifted Jade smoothly overhead, arms steady, his expression concentrated in a way that felt different from the boy Luca remembered leaning back in a classroom chair.
There was something impressive about it. Technical, precise. He found himself following the timing without realizing it, the way he would track a play from the bench.
Jade landed cleanly from a throw jump. A woman sitting at the bar, who was clearly already several drinks in despite it being five A.M., let out a cheer.
Luca shifted his weight and adjusted the strap of his backpack. He told himself he was only watching because he happened to be there. It would be strange to walk away immediately. That would look pointed. As if he cared too much.
They moved into a step sequence, close together, their hands linking and separating. It was clearly well-practiced. They fit around each other easily, the way linemates eventually do when they stop having to think about their positioning.
The program built toward the final lift. Evan’s grip tightened at Jade’s waist; he rotated, controlled, then set her down into their ending pose. They held it for a beat as the music cut.
Applause filled the arena. Even through the airport speakers, it sounded loud.
Luca exhaled slowly. He hadn’t realized that he had been holding his breath.
As the ice was pelted with roses and stuffed animals, Luca momentarily wondered how his teammates would react if Centaurs fans started throwing flowers when someone got a hat trick.
The broadcast followed them to the kiss-and-cry. They sat close together on the small couch, their shoulders touching. Jade laughed at something Evan said, then reached up and grabbed his face with both hands, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. Evan laughed, bright and unguarded.
Luca looked away for half a second, then back. It was nothing dramatic. Teammates celebrated all the time. But their closeness was easy, like second nature.
The commentator’s voice carried over the scene. “Longtime partners, together for seven years now. What a journey for these two.”
Seven years together.
Luca’s mind caught on the phrasing and accepted it at face value. He didn’t follow figure skating terminology closely enough to parse the nuance. Partner meant partner. Seven years meant seven years.
He took another sip of his coffee, which was now warm instead of hot.
That made sense, he thought. Evan had always been comfortable with himself. Open about who he was, even as a teenager. It was not surprising he would have a long-term relationship. It was, in fact, extremely normal.
Jade leaned into Evan’s side as they waited for scores. Their knees pressed together. He rested his hand lightly against her back.
They looked settled.
Luca felt something small and quiet shift inside his chest, just a slight adjustment. A recalibration of expectations he had not consciously admitted to having.
He had not come to Milan for Evan, obviously. He had come for hockey. For Switzerland. For his family, who would be coming to as many of his games as they could and who would watch all the others from home in Zurich. The fact that Evan would be there was incidental. A strange footnote from his old life.
Still, it was strange, seeing him like this. Seeing the version of him that had continued forward without Luca anywhere in the frame.
On the screen, the scores flashed up. The few patrons at the Chili’s Too clapped.
Luca didn’t look at the numbers. Instead, he shifted his backpack higher on his shoulder and stepped back into the flow of the terminal. Boarding had begun; a line had formed near his gate.
As he joined it, he told himself there was nothing complicated about this. Evan had a partner. Seven years. That was solid. Stable. Good for him.
Whatever had existed between them had been vague at best, a half-formed curiosity that was really just on Luca’s side, and even that had been buried under layers of fear and wanting to fit in.
He handed over his boarding pass with a small nod. “Thank you.”
On the jet bridge, the air felt cooler. He walked slowly, feeling the weight of the past week settle more fully into his bones.
Inside the plane, he found his seat by the window and stowed his backpack carefully under the seat in front of him, making sure there was enough space so it wouldn’t be crushed. He sat down, buckled in, and folded his hands loosely in his lap.
He thought of Milan. Of the Olympic Village he had only seen in photos. Of wearing the Swiss flag across his chest.
Evan would be there too, somewhere in that same orbit of buses and arenas and cameras.
It was fine.
When the plane began to taxi, Luca rested his head back against the seat and closed his eyes, letting the low hum of the engines wash over him. He would sleep now, if he could. He would just have to wait to see who Milan placed in front of him.