Status: Still being thought out.
Carvings in the Ice
Separate Ways
On the plane ride home, Annabelle was drifting in and out of sleep. No matter the state of consciousness, however, she found herself replaying the past twenty-four hours in her mind, as dreams and as memories. The way her hand fit in his. The smile on his face as he walked proudly through the halls. Her comfort with him. Pat's jokes. Johnny's asides. Going to the party with Team Canada, and seeing the Americans crashing to celebrate with them. Being alone with Jonathan that night, feeling his body over hers, him making love to her, making her feel as though nothing else could feel this sweet. And after the climax, when they'd both calmed down, he'd curled up around her, spooning her, and they'd talked. He told her about hockey, about his constant need for perfection, about being under a microscope for every moment of his life and how he hated it. She told him about her past- about her parents, constantly fighting and blaming her for everything, about the constant struggles to eat, the moment she'd fallen in love with figure skating, the moment she'd realized it could take her away from her overbearing family and make her into something more, something beautiful. She'd talked until she couldn't anymore, and then she felt his lips on her ear. He whispered, "You never needed skating to make you beautiful. You only needed it to get away from everything else hiding it." She'd felt her entire body tingle, and tears prick at her eyes. But she'd blinked them away- no more tears, she'd cried enough- and turned to accept his lips on her own. Everything had felt so perfect, she couldn't bear leaving him this morning. But they had to go their separate ways.
"Here," he whispered to her, slipping his address in her pocket. "Don't bother with a hotel room or anything if and when you come to Chicago. Okay?"
"Okay," she murmured, and kissed him again. He chuckled, deepening the kiss.
"I don't want to leave here..."
"I know, baby," he said, touching his forehead to hers. "I wish I could take you with me."
"You still can," she teased.
"Nah... we both have things to take care of. But..."
"But?"
He sighed, his eyes looking over her face. It was as if he were trying to take note of every detail of her. "I still want to be with you... it's not even possible, but... I do."
"I do, too."
He kissed her forehead, and Johnny called to her that they were boarding. "This is it," she said.
"Let me know when you land."
"I will. Same with you."
"Yep."
One more kiss, and she left him, walking to the gate. She handed the flight attendant her pass and looked back. A small smile, a wave, and Johnny waggled his fingers, and they were down the tunnel.
Annabelle opened her eyes to see the gold medal highlights on the TV inside the seat in front of her. She smiled, a small thrill going through her. "Loverboy's a star, isn't he?" Johnny asked her, smirking. She looked at him, too happy to retort. All she knew was that she was in love with the small white jersey wearing #16 on the screen as much as she was in love with the actual man she'd slept with the night before. And nothing could possibly take away this feeling, no matter how much time went by before they could see each other.
Jonathan was thinking too much to sleep. He and Kaner sat next to each other on the plane back to Chicago; he'd agreed to keep his gold medal away from Pat, and things were fine. They were joking like normal friends, and now Pat was dozing off next to the window. Jon rested his head against the wall and thought of everything that had happened between him and Annabelle. He'd never thought she would have shown up like that and surprised him; not that she was incapable of it, but there had been the fear that he'd fucked up so badly no number of apologies could ever fix it. Yet there she was, so lovely he could barely look at her, warm in his arms, her smile reaching his heart. It was like the best dream, turned into reality for everyone to see.
They'd spent an incredible night together, and he didn't just mean the sex. He'd finally found someone he could be honest with, open himself up to. His whole self. He'd held her to him and poured his heart out, and she didn't judge. She didn't speak over him. She just let him go until he couldn't anymore. Then she opened her mouth and let him know he wasn't alone. And he needed that, more than he'd ever thought possible.
The Olympic recaps had jumped to figure skating, and he saw her going through her routine there. His breath caught as he saw her leaping, spinning, powerful and magnificent. She'd done the unthinkable, gotten silver from Mao Asada, apparently one of the best in the world- and now, her name would be everywhere. His chest swelled with pride and love knowing that that was the girl he'd completely fallen head over heels for, and that no matter the distance, she would be all his... somehow.
He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. Someday.
"Here," he whispered to her, slipping his address in her pocket. "Don't bother with a hotel room or anything if and when you come to Chicago. Okay?"
"Okay," she murmured, and kissed him again. He chuckled, deepening the kiss.
"I don't want to leave here..."
"I know, baby," he said, touching his forehead to hers. "I wish I could take you with me."
"You still can," she teased.
"Nah... we both have things to take care of. But..."
"But?"
He sighed, his eyes looking over her face. It was as if he were trying to take note of every detail of her. "I still want to be with you... it's not even possible, but... I do."
"I do, too."
He kissed her forehead, and Johnny called to her that they were boarding. "This is it," she said.
"Let me know when you land."
"I will. Same with you."
"Yep."
One more kiss, and she left him, walking to the gate. She handed the flight attendant her pass and looked back. A small smile, a wave, and Johnny waggled his fingers, and they were down the tunnel.
Annabelle opened her eyes to see the gold medal highlights on the TV inside the seat in front of her. She smiled, a small thrill going through her. "Loverboy's a star, isn't he?" Johnny asked her, smirking. She looked at him, too happy to retort. All she knew was that she was in love with the small white jersey wearing #16 on the screen as much as she was in love with the actual man she'd slept with the night before. And nothing could possibly take away this feeling, no matter how much time went by before they could see each other.
Jonathan was thinking too much to sleep. He and Kaner sat next to each other on the plane back to Chicago; he'd agreed to keep his gold medal away from Pat, and things were fine. They were joking like normal friends, and now Pat was dozing off next to the window. Jon rested his head against the wall and thought of everything that had happened between him and Annabelle. He'd never thought she would have shown up like that and surprised him; not that she was incapable of it, but there had been the fear that he'd fucked up so badly no number of apologies could ever fix it. Yet there she was, so lovely he could barely look at her, warm in his arms, her smile reaching his heart. It was like the best dream, turned into reality for everyone to see.
They'd spent an incredible night together, and he didn't just mean the sex. He'd finally found someone he could be honest with, open himself up to. His whole self. He'd held her to him and poured his heart out, and she didn't judge. She didn't speak over him. She just let him go until he couldn't anymore. Then she opened her mouth and let him know he wasn't alone. And he needed that, more than he'd ever thought possible.
The Olympic recaps had jumped to figure skating, and he saw her going through her routine there. His breath caught as he saw her leaping, spinning, powerful and magnificent. She'd done the unthinkable, gotten silver from Mao Asada, apparently one of the best in the world- and now, her name would be everywhere. His chest swelled with pride and love knowing that that was the girl he'd completely fallen head over heels for, and that no matter the distance, she would be all his... somehow.
He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. Someday.
♠ ♠ ♠
Music to Write By: Plane-Jason MrazLove Hurts- Incubus