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Vignette 8: Two Men In Love

Chapter 5: Meditations

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When Salomé had sought him out to inform him about Deniss’ idea for his new short programme, Stéphane had chalked it up to the recent change in his and Chris’ relationship. For weeks his student had voiced his displeasure regarding their intransigence in making their relationship public. While he was not wrong that it would help in terms of representation if he spoke up, Stéphane was too selfish to risk negatively impacting Deniss’ reputation among judges on the off chance that his coming out would make any positive change at all.

 

He figured skating to Two Men in Love while wearing a costume bedazzled in large crystals that would glitter in the colours of the rainbow when the light hit them at just the right angle, was his student’s way to flip off any homophobes in their sport. Nonetheless, part of him had worried that conservative judges would mark him down simply for the choice in music. A fear that had quickly been dispelled when Deniss improved upon his personal best scores from the previous season. People were either oblivious to the main point of the song or figure skating was indeed becoming less judgemental. 

 

With the Corona pandemic shutting down not only their little bubble but the entire world, any deeper meaning behind Deniss’ short programme was quickly forgotten until he approached Stéphane, brimming with overflowing excitement, to share an idea for a new exhibition programme: It’s a Sin.

 

A song written by an openly gay man that had recently featured in the eponymous British hit TV series depicting the lives of a group of men during the HIV crisis in London in the 1980s. And as Deniss was no one to do things by halves – very much like his coach – he insisted on using the 2021 cover version the lead actor, also openly gay, had created with none other but Elton John.

 

            “I’ve already checked – I still fit into my Two Men in Love costume, so I’m going to use that. What do you think, Stéph?”

 

If Two Men in Love had been a subtle ‘fuck you’ towards their sport’s inclination to pretend homosexuality did not exist in their ranks, It’s a Sin would be a one-fingered salute with both hands. The only saving grace for Stéphane’s nerves was that despite the concentrated gayness of the exhibition number, it would still be more subtle than any of Johnny’s bedazzled onesies and his makeup. But people aware of the Two Men in Love short programme would undoubtedly recognise the costume and jump to conclusions Deniss’ might not even have factored in himself. Conclusions not even Stéphane was immune to…

 

            “What if he’s trying to tell us something?” he questioned Chris and plucked the book from his hands, carelessly throwing it out of bed to prop up his chin on his partner’s chest.

 

            “What if he just likes the song? It’s got a nice rhythm…”

 

            “Sometimes I forget that you’re not an artist,” Stéphane groaned histrionically and rolled back to his side, glancing at Chris from the corner of his eyes. “It’s all too well thought out to be a coincidence.”

 

            “He’s recycled costumes before…”

 

            “But this one?”

 

            “If you want real answers, Stéph, I suggest you have this conversation with Deniss and not with me. And now get up and fetch me my book.”

 

            “Why?” Stéphane whined, pulling away his legs when his partner gently kicked his shins underneath the blanket to underline his demand, grumbling something unintelligible when Chris pointed out that he had been the one to throw it across the room in the first place. Unlike many other people who used to let him get away with his airs and graces, particularly during those heydays when the press dubbed him Switzerland’s Little Prince and the world was his oyster, Chris had always been immune to his fame and the puppy eyes. He still was, but after almost two decades Stéphane had come up with a number of tactics to occasionally undermine his well-meant attempts to keep him grounded.

 

            “I have a much better idea than Tolkien, mon cher,” Stéphane grinned mischievously and threw back the blanket, straddling Chris’ thighs, his fingers trailing down his naked chest as he leaned down to steal a kiss from his lips.

 

:::

 

Chris had been right that Deniss was the only source for proper answers, but that was easier said than done. As involved as Stéphane was in his student’s life, he respected his privacy and aside from the occasional little ribbing, he did his best to stay out of his love life. Not that there was any to his knowledge. Sure, there was the occasional unlucky girl – or boy – who tried to flirt with him because it had not escaped anyone’s notice that Deniss had grown into a handsome young man, but as he never tired to remind him: he had no time for such frivolous things because he was more than busy with training, university, and his novel.

 

Well, most of the time, at least, because Stéphane was fairly certain his student crushed on Alexia when she trained with them, and he was inclined to bet his beloved Hublot cowbell that she had humoured him at least for a little while. As they had both been legal adults at that point, he had kept out of it – or rather Chris had kept him out of it.

 

            “I don’t think it’s Alexia he’s crushing on.”

 

            “Diana?”

 

            “No…”

 

            “Shaline?”

 

            “No…”

 

            “I’d be a bit worried if it were Isolde…”

 

            “Now you’re just naming any female student you can think of,” Chris sighed in exasperation and rolled his eyes at him.

 

            “Well, unless you share your wisdom with me, oh Christopher the Wise, I have to assume it’s Alexia since he’s been following her around like a lovesick puppy for weeks.”

 

            “I’m fairly certain that’s not going to be necessary. Last time I checked, he and Koshiro tried to prank her with water balloons made from condoms only to get their asses handed to them.”

 

Stéphane remembered the incident vividly as the owner of the Palladium had called him to pick up his students who had caused quite a scene at the swimming pool with their antics.

 

            “Then who do you think he’s crushing on if not Alexia?”

 

            “Think about it, Stéph: who does he draw pictures for, so she can colour them during her flight? Who does he cook for privately instead of the entire team? And who does he gush over in interviews when it comes to skating skills?”

 

            “… Satoko?”

 

            “He certainly doesn’t do any of those things for Alexia – he hardly treats her any different than Koshiro. My guess is that he’s testing the waters with Alexia, and she’s agreed to be his guinea pig.”

 

Stéphane had been less convinced by Chris’ theory than he had been, but none of it mattered in the end because not long after their discussion his little hermit returned his attention to his books, his cooking experiments, and the fantastic worlds he was building in his head.

 

Recognising that not everyone was as much of a man-about-town as he used to be at his student’s age – the primary reason why he worried when Deniss exhibited similar behaviour, as he vividly recalled his own recklessness – Stéphane also had to take into consideration that what he perceived as a general reluctance to throw himself into the dating market, might very well be Deniss’ way of figuring out his sexuality. If the new exhibition programme was his first tentative steps to expressing his true self, the last thing he wanted to do was to snub him by blatantly calling him out on it. While it was exactly what Johnny had done with him, he doubted it would have the desired effect with Deniss. Knowing him, he would retreat into himself, and Stéphane would have to deal with monosyllabic replies for at least a week.

 

            “Stéph, if you brush that same spot one more time, I’ll either get a bald spot or my scalp’s going to start bleeding,” Deniss voice cut through his thoughts and belatedly he realised that he had been disentangling a particularly difficult strand of hair more than thoroughly.

 

            “Sorry…”

 

As there were no hair clippers in sight for Deniss’ hair anytime soon, they had spent the better part of the summer trying to find styling methods that would withstand the gravitational forces of spins and jumps. For some reason, he was less enthused about pigtails with ladybug clips – the only hairdo Stéphane excelled at and that had received raving reviews from his niece. Not even the prospect of Star Wars hairclips had swayed Deniss’ opinion and he was usually game for anything Star Wars!

 

Braiding had seemed like their best option to tame his mane, but after one too many rats’ nests on top of his head Deniss had ruled that out as well. At least for as long as neither of them was more skilled at it. Next had been a traditional ballet bun, but considering how Stéphane’s recent attempt had ended, he expected that it was going to be off the table pretty soon as well. Like it was his fault that he had to securely shove in those finicky bobby pins to ensure it did not all came crumbling down the moment his skater so much as moved.

 

            “Popcorn for your thoughts,” Deniss offered and held up the bag he had been snacking on while his coach had tried his best to ram hairpins straight into his skull.

 

            “Hm?”

 

            “Your mind’s like miles away, today, Stéph… What are you thinking about?

 

            “There… there’s actually been something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about,” he replied after a short pause and put down the hairbrush on the table.

 

            “They aren’t cancelling competitions yet again, are they?”

 

            “Non, non, nothing like that,” Stéphane reassured him, grabbed a handful of Deniss’ popcorn, and then pulled out a chair to sit opposite him.

 

            “Then what’s on your mind?”

 

            “Your exhibition programme actually…”

 

            “Oh… okay…” Deniss was better than Stéphane at masking his emotions, but even he could not hide his disappointment as he visibly deflated. While he had always had creative input with his programmes, It’s a Sin had been his first proper collaboration with Stéphane as a choreographer. The fundamental idea of how he wanted it all to look like, the story behind the programme, it was all his. A rough diamond he had entrusted to him to polish and to raise to its full potential. Always in the hopes that it would be good enough for Stéphane to deem it worthy to be associated with his name. “I mean… if you don’t like my ideas, we can still change it… I guess.”

 

            “Non, that’s not…” Snacking on the popcorn he had taken bought Stéphane a minute or two to sort his thoughts before broaching the same topic he had discussed with Chris last night, primarily the conclusions people might jump to. “I don’t think we’d have to worry about that if we changed the costume and removed the immediate link to Two Men in Love, but if you insist on using that costume… some people might consider it a public coming out…”

 

            “… would you and Chris be against it if it were?” came the tentative question after a long pregnant pause, and Stéphane could visibly see the young man, previously sitting astride opposite of him, reverting to that insecure 17-year-old boy who feared he would send him away the moment a more talented Swiss skater would cross his path. With all the self-assurance and confidence he exuded these days, it was easy to forget that that part still existed.

 

            “You don’t have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable—” Stéphane chose his words carefully, grasping one of Deniss’ hands in his own when he kept digging his fingers into the bag of popcorn likely grinding his snack to tiny pieces in the process— “but… do you identify as gay?”

 

His heart broke at the flinch that last word caused. Deniss might be comfortable with his and Chris’ relationship, more than happy to shut up anyone who dared to say anything derogatory within his earshot, but it was different when that same label with the negative connotations some still associated with it was suddenly hanging above yourself like the sword of Damocles.

 

            “I… I honestly don’t know,” he sighed and brushed over his face with his free hand. “It’s— sometimes I just… and then—” Jumping to his feet, he began pacing on the carpet between the dining area and the living room, raking his fingers through his long hair likely creating countless new knots after Stéphane had spent a good fifteen minutes of detangling it moments earlier. He kept muttering scraps of sentences, his mind working faster than his lips could form words as he jumped from one thought to the next.

 

Over the course of the five years Stéphane had known Deniss, he had become familiar with this kind of behaviour and experience had taught him that it was best to wait and let him work through his thoughts until they were in an order that could be articulated. Something that had not always been the case. At the beginning of their collaboration, when he lacked the English vocabulary to properly express his feelings and Stéphane’s Russian was barely enough to get the vague gist of what he was trying to convey, frustrations would frequently lead to meltdowns. They were rarely an issue these days, but as Deniss continued to work himself up into a frenzy, eventually crying out loud and throwing his hands up in irritation, Stéphane took that as his sign to intervene before they reached the melting point.

 

            “Deniss…”

 

Speaking his name was all it took to get him out of his head and collapse into the hug he offered him. One that was apparently dearly needed if the way he was clinging to him was anything to go by.

 

            “Oh, mon petit câlin…,” Stéphane sighed, and tightened his embrace, patting Deniss on the back as he gently swayed from one foot to the other. Still vividly recalling those bygone days when he thought his waning interest in Caro as his girlfriend was down to their busy schedules and the demands of their sport only for Johnny to call him out on constantly eye-fucking the next best guy crossing his path when they went out, he had a pretty good idea of the emotional turmoil Deniss had been dealing with. Particularly if this was the first time the matter had been addressed out in the open and not just in his head. “It’s okay if you don’t have the words, yet, to express yourself. You don’t have to… You can take all the time in the world, and once you’ve found them and feel like you want to talk to me about it, I’ll be here, and I’ll listen.”

 

There was a tiny nod, followed by Deniss momentarily burying his face deeper into the crook of Stéphane’s neck, only to lift his head and look at him with frantic eyes.

 

            “It’s just… There are so many labels! How do I choose? How do I know which one I am? I read their definitions and some parts align with how I see things, while others are entirely wrong. But then I come across the definition for a different label and parts of that also kinda fit and—”

 

            “Deniss…”

 

Huffing in frustration, he buried his face once again in the crook of Stéphane’s neck, but his coach had other plans and loosened the hug.

 

            “Let’s sit down, shall we?” he suggested and guided Deniss over to the seating area. While he had not expected him to take a seat on the other sofa or in the armchair, neither had Stéphane anticipate his student curling up by his side, lying in his arms as he hid his face in the crook of his elbow. “Oh, mon petit câlin…,” Stéphane repeated the term of endearment he had used minutes earlier. While it was one primarily reserved for his nieces and nephews when they could not get enough cuddles from their tonton, it would occasionally slip out with Deniss as well, immediately resulting in protests that he was no little snuggle bug. To be able to use that nickname without eliciting such a reaction was truly a testament to the state of his mind.

 

            “First of all,” Stéphane spoke up calmly and began running his fingers through the blond locks he had disentangled not too long ago, “I love you, Deniss, and I am so very proud of the man you’ve grown into these past five years. As is Chris. And nothing will ever change that, you hear me?”

 

A small nod. Logically, Deniss knew that he did not have to fear rejection from his Swiss family, but it still felt good to hear those words. To have that affirmation of their unconditional love for him.

 

            “Now, the good thing about anyone’s sexuality is that – unlike in figure skating – there’s no rulebook. You won’t get deductions if you haven’t chosen a label by a certain age, just like there are no rules that state you can’t use several labels to describe your sexuality or that you’re stuck with them for the rest of your life. Having said that… in my experience, you can’t just determine your sexuality by reading some books and articles. At one point, you’ll have to venture into the real world and try it out. And—” Stéphane leaned down to press a kiss against Deniss’ temple, remaining near his head as he quietly continued— “you might not want to hear that, but there’s a good chance you’re going to get hurt along the way, just like you might end up hurting others. But that’s part of the learning process.”

 

            “It’s just…” Deniss huffed in frustration and wiggled out of Stéphane’s hold only to properly bed his head in his lap. “Look at all the other figure skaters of my generation! They’re getting engaged or married… some even have children. And here I am, and I can’t even figure out myself!”

 

            “Oh, mon amour…” Stéphane sighed, “what I keep telling you on the ice counts in everyday life as well: don’t compare yourself to other people. We all walk our own paths at our own speed, leading us to our own personal destinations. Drawing comparisons will only lead to frustrations.”

 

            “Yeah… I can attest to that.”

 

            “You’re allowed to take all the time in the world. You’re the one who has to be comfortable with your sexuality, no one else. And if you’ve got any questions, I hope you know that you can always come to Chris and me.”

 

            “I know…” Deniss breathed a heavy sigh as if the weight of the entire world was resting on his shoulders and turned to his side to wrap his arms around Stéphane’s waist. “I just feel like… I should have figured all of this out years ago. Instead…” When he had first moved to Champéry, he would frequently clash with his coach when he encouraged him to spend time with other kids his age, doing things that had no relation to figure skating at all, instead of constantly hanging out with Chris and him. While he had loathed Stéphane’s attempts to get him to socialise more with his peers, in hindsight, Deniss appreciated his persistence. Still, his time in Champéry would never be enough to make up for everything he had missed out on as a teenager as he had spent every waking moment chasing that Olympic dream. He would never regret those sacrifices because the sport had given him plenty of opportunities he would have never had otherwise, but in moments like these, he could not help but wonder if it would be easier had he just been a normal kid in Daugavpils.

 

            “You have your entire life ahead of you, Deniss, to make up for it and to meet the man you are in a relationship,” Stéphane encouraged him, his fingers continuing to comb through Deniss’ hair in long, languid strokes. “If it wasn’t for It’s A Sin I would have never pressed the issue, but I worry about the conclusions people might make and how it might affect you if this reaches you…”

 

Exhaling, Deniss let go of Stéphane and rolled onto his back to look up at him, his jaw set in stubborn determination.

 

            “If my potentially being anything other than a straight cisman is the only thing people take away from the programme, then I’m not interested in their opinion as it only proves that they didn’t pay attention anyway. It’s their problem, not mine if they get all het up about that possibility – with some luck it might spark a discourse, because figure skating is still so deeply rooted in those antiquated heteronormative stereotypes, and we don’t talk about it enough. And if anyone dares to make any homophobic comments while I’m within earshot, I’ll clap back just like I do when I overhear anything derogatory aimed towards you.”

 

            “That was a very long and passionate reply for ‘No Stéph, I’m not changing anything about the programme!’” Stéphane chuckled, not even bothering anymore to reprimand Deniss for fighting his battles. In that regard, he truly was like a lion protecting his pride – at least he was discreet about it, never causing a public scene. Unlike him who had very much wanted to punch those idiots in the face when they suggested doing a gender test on Johnny because his skating was considered effeminate.

 

            “No Stéph, I’m not changing anything about the programme,” Deniss parroted, stubbornness quickly making way for a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Giggling, he rolled onto his side again and pressed his face into Stéphane’s stomach when he cuffed him and affectionately called him an idiot. With his arms wrapped around his coach and mentor’s waist once more, he stretched out, feet dangling over the armrest. There was comfort in the knowledge that he supported both his artistic vision as well as his identity, and Deniss could feel himself relaxing again, melting into the man he had come to consider a second father and someone whose opinion he valued as much as his parents.

 

Closing his eyes, he breathed in the familiar scent of lavender and cinnamon he associated with Stéph, mixed with the laundry detergent that also clung to his own clothes because he had never bothered to change the brand after moving out and had simply continued to buy the one, he was used to from living at the chalet. With Stéphane continuing to pet his hair, while his other hand rested heavily – grounding – on his shoulder, it was easy to move past the confusing thoughts in his head that had come to the surface over the course of their conversation. In the past, there had been times when he had bombarded both Stéphane and Chris with questions about their sexuality and their relationship to the point where they shut him down as he would cross a line. Looking back, he wondered if his curiosity had stemmed from the unconscious knowledge that he did not simply identify as straight but that there was more than he could currently name. Why he had previously never mentioned these thoughts to Stéph and Chris, when he usually discussed everything else with them, was beyond him as they would undoubtedly be the last people to judge him – something his conversation with Stéphane about his programme had only highlighted. At the same time, it had brought back another thought he had brooded over every once in a while but had never dared to bring up.

 

            “Hey Stéph…” Deniss poked him in the side, “can I ask you something?”

 

            “When have you ever needed permission?”

 

            “Have you ever thought about having kids of your own?” Deniss flopped onto his back to properly look up at him.

 

            “Where’s that coming from? Because, let me tell you, at 22 there’s absolutely no reason for you to hear your biological clock ticking. Besides, I’m way too young to be anyone’s grandfather. You’re allowed to bring up kids when I’m in my 50s… better yet, my 60s!”

 

            “No,” Deniss laughed before he grew serious again. “You’re just really good at this whole parenting thing – and I’m speaking here from first-hand experience – that it seems unfair that you can’t get to do that for a child that’s yours…”

 

            “You might have noticed that neither Chris nor I have the female parts necessary to make a child…”

 

            “Maybe Brenda would be willing to help,” Deniss quipped back and scrambled away giggling when Stéphane cuffed him gently on the head. Shaking off his house shoes, he pulled his feet onto the sofa and continued to press the issue in a more serious tone. Not too long ago, he had watched a documentary on SRF depicting the journey of a gay couple to have biological children through the help of a surrogate mother in the U.S. Granted, the film had been in German, and he had not understood much, but they had been a happy family in the end. “And you could always foster or adopt.”

 

            “You’ve given this way too much thought.”

 

            “I just think you’d make a great dad – both you and Chris!”

 

            “Considering how opposed you were to Koshiro in the beginning, I never imagined you’d be the one basically asking for siblings. I still have the parenting books on sibling jealousy to prove it.” While Koshiro had been perfectly alright living on his own in one of the nearby flats, it had been a given to include him in their family life as much as possible – after all, he had only been 16. Being close in age and sharing the same injury, it had seemed like a given that the boys would get along and nothing could have prepared him for the jealousy and hostility Deniss had displayed over months.

 

            “I know. I used to check them for newly marked sections whenever you and Chris were gone, so I’d know what you might try next,” Deniss recalled. For a while, it had almost become a ritual when he was alone in the chalet – find the books wherever Stéph had left them last, translate the new passages he deemed helpful with his phone, and then devise countermeasures.

 

            “You cunning, little…” No wonder he had been frequently outmaneuvered by his student.

 

            “But you went astray from the script when you baited me with all those foreign, Japanese ingredients. That wasn’t mentioned in any of the books…”

 

            “Because that was Koshiro’s idea – he only told me afterward.”

 

            “That sneaky, little devil,” Deniss muttered under his breath, causing Stéphane to chuckle. The days of sibling jealousy were long gone, and it always warmed his heart to see how well they got along these days to the point where they called each other brothers. Part of him had feared the rivalry might resurface when Shoma joined them, but Deniss’ welcome of the newest member of Team Champéry had been a testimony to the trust he had in their relationship by now as well as the maturity he had reached – not the one he had always claimed to possess when Stéphane had first met him, but the one that came with age, experience, and a stable homelife.

 

            “See, I don’t need kids – I get all the joys of parenthood thanks to you.” Smirking, Stéphane leaned over and tussled Deniss’ hair, but instead of complaining histrionically as he would frequently do, he bridged the distance between them and leaned against his side with his head bedded on his shoulder, wrapping his arms around his waist. Without hesitation, Stéphane reciprocated the gesture and enveloped him in a hug.

 

Logically speaking, he was well aware of Deniss’ having loving parents who would do anything for their son, but the ways of the heart were often mysterious. His own had decided sometime between Deniss’ distraught call from Sochi and picking him up at the airport weeks later that he would do anything for that boy. He may not be his own flesh and blood, but he might be the closest he would ever have to a son. Not that Stéphane had ever shared that sentiment explicitly with Deniss – he was already struggling to find the right balance when it came to spending time with his parents. The last thing he wanted was to add more pressure on top by superimposing his own paternal feelings.

 

            “Did you ever regret it?” Deniss inquired quietly and shifted somewhat to not only fold his legs underneath him but to also lean more into the hug.

 

            “Hm?”

 

            “Taking me on as your student… You basically raised me as your child – you still do…”

 

            “Why should I have any regrets?”

 

            “You had to cancel or postpone so many shows and engagements when I first moved here… and to this day, people come up to me and tell me how much I’ve changed you for the better… How you were finally forced to grow up and take on responsibility when I came along. I guess, what I’m asking is if you ever felt like you missed out on something because you had to raise me?”

 

            “First of all,” Stéphane said and leaned his head against Deniss’, “I didn’t have to do anything. No one forced me to raise you. I chose to. And do you want to know why, mon amour? Because you were a child.”

 

            “I was 16. Pretty much grown up…” Unlike in the past when Deniss had flung the very same words at Stéphane’s head, usually in the heat of a temper tantrum, nothing but amusement was now resonating in his voice as he snuggled up to him.

 

            “Non… Don’t get me wrong, you did an Oscar-worthy performance of mimicking an adult, but underneath the charade, you were a kid craving stability…” Stéphane flashed him a sad smile as he rubbed small circles into Deniss’ arm, recalling all those times he had to push past his fears covered up by teenage bravado as they both tried to navigate the roles they had suddenly found themselves in with their collaboration. “I’m glad, I could give you that safe space that allowed you to not only focus on your training but to also reclaim some of your teenage years. And to answer your question: non, there were never any regrets, neither about cancelling any shows to be with you when you needed me nor about having to grow up myself. The alternative would have been you missing out on your childhood and that was never an option.”

 

Not trusting his voice to be heavy with emotions, Deniss snuggled closer to Stéphane and tightened his hold on him, finally breathing a barely audible “Thank you.”

 

            “Always. I’ll always be here for you – as is Chris.”

 

Little did Stéphane know that their quiet life in the Swiss mountains would soon be upheaved and that it would be Deniss who stepped up and had his back.

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