Chapter Text
apparently, the phrase ‘if i never see huening kai again, it'll be too soon’ was not enough to convey to the universe his sentiments.
they had always been this way, it seemed. from the first time a squeaky, shy voice sounded from taehyun’s left, muttering out his thanks as a gold medal was dangled from his neck, taehyun knew he hated him. the silver around his own neck made his skin crawl, a distaste growing so sour and potent in his mouth that it almost made his impassive expression twitch into something foul.
he was better than that, only slightly though, as he promptly shoulder-checked huening kai on the way to the locker rooms, not even bothering to look at the way the boy had tumbled to the floor from the force.
what was equally irritating to taehyun was huening kai’s never ending smiles, blinding and warm like the sun. he was the picture-perfect example of everything you'd want in a figure skater, easily marketable with a sunny disposition. huening kai was everything taehyun was decidedly not. where kai was soft edges, easy-going demeanour wrapped up in sugary kindness; taehyun was direct and serious, strategy drilled into him like a battle plan after years of harsh training.
he supposed kai’s happiness itself wasn't what bothered him, but rather the fact that he was the sole person on earth to not be receiving it. it was deserved treatment, no doubt, but it still grated on his nerves. anger settled like an oily film over his skin every time that bright smile slid off of kai's face the second the two made eye contact.
it seemed the hatred was mutual. good.
maybe if taehyun was kinder, more open, things might have been different. perhaps if he had smiled instead of sneered when kai first introduced himself, all chubby cheeked and blinding grin, he wouldn't be in this position. and yet–
smack.
his fathers hand cracks against his cheek, making taehyun’s head snap harshly to the side. he thinks he hears his neck pop, but he doesn't make a noise, doesn't dare to. he refuses to allow a single change in his expression, impassive. any anger he feels at the treatment is pushed down, down, down. his feelings don't matter, he says it over and over in his head, a mantra to keep himself in check. his fathers rule is absolute, and he is in no position to question the word of god.
“you haven't won anything better than silver in far too long. we are losing money on your training, and it's clearly going to waste.” his fathers words cut into his chest like shrapnel, painful and brutal, but it is the truth. taehyun can't possibly ignore it. he lost his passion a long time ago, if he ever had it to begin with, and it's apparently becoming obvious. too obvious, too quickly. he thought he had more time.
“you will make yourself useful to this family again. find someone else and do your fucking job, by any means necessary.”
any means necessary.
“and so help me, god,” taehyun doesn't dare raise his gaze to meet his fathers. that is an act of war. instead, he allows his father to grab him by the collar and tug him close, and he does his best not to cower. dont show fear, dont show anything– “if you don't bring in the money i want, when i want it, you're no longer my son.”
his father cares little for rules, for routine. he cares only for results. as long as the job gets done, he gets his money, he leaves taehyun alone. mostly.
“..yes, father.”
he walks down the hallway, footsteps silent. any noise he makes would surely be followed by the wrath of his father. ‘children should be seen and not heard.’ the walls are barren. no family portraits, no accolades from past victories, no medals celebrating his prowess, nothing.
everything had been sold a long time ago. every medal he ever won, every trophy he ever held, all to the pawn shops down the street. taehyun doesn't mind, how could he? his feelings don't matter. he is doing his job.
he makes it to his room, door closing soundlessly behind him. perhaps a lesser person would have cracked by now, sliding down the door into a crumpled heap now that the pressure of his fathers gaze is no longer felt, but taehyun is better than that. he knows there is no relaxing, no semblance of peace while hes within these walls. fathers rule is absolute, his eyes everywhere, his presence a permanent fixture. the air is thick with it, enough to make one choke, but not taehyun. no, taehyun simply moves around his room in eerie silence – too sharp, too precise – as he prepares for bed.
dirty clothes are stripped in what is obviously routine, into the bin with sections already prepared for optimized colour sorting. fresh boxers, fresh shorts, fresh shirt, all folded neatly in a pile prepared to change into. he snags a pair of socks as well, because the thermostat always gets turned too low at night. it will probably be freezing tonight, given his fathers earlier temper. he turns, walking to the bathroom to continue his routine. he showers, washes his face, brushes his teeth, does his skincare, dries his hair, don't make a sound, don't look too hard at yourself in the mirror; next, next, next.
he doesn't stop, he doesn't falter, not when his hair is dry, not when his skin is glossy and moisturized, not when he moves back to his room, not when he sinks into bed, stiff as a board, and not when he falls into a dreamless, restless sleep.
he doesn't quite know why he hates him so much. actually, no– that's a lie. he knows. he hates him because he has everything. a loving family, full of support and warmth.
everything taehyun lacks.
he was happy. he smiled and treated everyone around him with kindness and tenderness that taehyun thought had to be fake. there was no way someone that bright could exist. it had to be impossible, a lie. because if it wasn't, what did that mean for taehyun? that he could have been treated kindly? that he just didn't get it when he could have?
..that he wasn't worthy of getting it?
thats why it was impossible. kai was a fake, a fraud, an obvious forgery of happiness personified.
taehyun was determined to draw back the curtain, to reveal the ugly truth underneath. maybe get something out of it for himself along the way.
back to the present. his fate is directly before him, gliding around on the ice in tattered, beat up skates that have most definitely seen better days. perhaps even better years.
but his fathers words ring in his head, clear as a bell and just as jarring; he needs to win, and he needs to do so by any means necessary.
even if that means he will have to work with him.
it's a cruel fact, an unsavory answer drilled into him by his own logic. he knows that huening kai is talented, their rivalry from years past still bringing fresh rage into his veins. years and years of competing for the same titles still stoking the flames of hate even after all this time. but looking at him now, seeing how far that talent has fallen, makes his stomach churn. huening isn't much of a competitor anymore, he has no reason to be. everyone who's worth anything in this field knows that kai was decently well off, unlike taehyun, but he never shows it. all his materials are worn, beaten, nearly junk. he doesn’t skate to show off, to make himself shine, he just does so naturally. he does it for the love of the sport, something taehyun hasn't felt for a long time.
taehyun’s fingers clench into such tight fists at his sides that he feels his palms start to bleed.
huening spins gracefully on the ice, slicing through the chilled air with sharp yet graceful movement, fluid yet precise. it makes taehyun scowl. such talent, such perfection that taehyun can't even hope to attain on his own.
because that’s the crux of the issue, isn't it? it isn't just kai’s support system that taehyun envies. it's everything. the talent, the ease with which he does everything flawlessly, while taehyun grinds himself into dust to reach the same goals. where kai is flawless, all soft skin and smiles, taehyun is tattered, bruised, useless.
taehyun just watches from the sidelines, a feeling of growing distaste clawing up his throat. the gold medal he is ruining himself for is in the hands of his childhood rival.
the longer he stands there staring, the more the disgust curls in his gut, making him burn from the inside. he has to move; he should leave; he should find any other way to win other than–
“You will train me.”
the words are out faster than taehyun can process them. kai skids to a stop, very disgracefully. taehyun wrinkles his nose at the deep gash in the ice.
“what?”
“i said,” taehyun steels himself. he is perfection, forged by his own hands. he is not scared, not nervous, not intimidated. he steps onto the ice, the laces on his skates tied impeccably, his outfit comfortable, yet still has that air of sharpness that all have come to associate him with. he pushes off and draws close, standing slightly closer than strictly necessary. sloppy skating, a voice whispers in his mind, sounding suspiciously like his father.
“i said you will train me.” taehyun lets the sentence settle, thick and heavy in the air between them.
huening kai blinks, visibly confused. his brows slowly furrow, and taehyun pointedly doesn’t watch as they draw closer together. he keeps his gaze firmly settles on kai's eyes.
“what makes you think i want to?”
taehyun shrugs. it isn't a no, it isn't a yes, either. any means necessary.
“quite frankly, i don’t give a damn what you want. you will be here at 7 p.m. sharp tomorrow, ready to train. not a moment later.” taehyun's head tilts away, finally breaking the tense eye contact. he stares at a sponsor's poster pasted to the rink walls. “now get out.”
“get out?” huening kai echoes, sounding a little too pleased, as if taehyun has said something that amuses him. he shifts his weight back and forth slightly, eyes trailing down taehyun's form as if to size him up. that lazy smile stays planted gracefully on his face. taehyun wants desperately to slap it off.
“get out,” taehyun confirms, with a sharp tilt of his head toward the exit. “now.”
huening’s brows raise further, an incredulous puff of laughter punching from his chest. he raises his hands slowly, a mock surrender, a white flag, and backs away, just as instructed. taehyun preens.
“yes, sir.” and with that, he’s gone. huening kai’s absence creates a vacuum, allowing taehyun’s previous emotions to slam back into his chest in full force. he doesn't know what it is, exactly. anxiety, likely. fear, unsurprising. yet he refuses to look those emotions in the eye– give them a name, give them power.
taehyun is the only one with power in this rink. he will make sure of it, this time.