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the unbecoming of alexis ness
act 1 . the end of the beginning
Alexis isn’t sure if he had come to the rink out of spite, habit, or desperation. His feet had just started moving and he had found himself here.
And of course, where else would he be? Alexis belongs on the ice. He belongs to the ice, his body and soul are so deeply intertwined with his art that he can’t fathom himself without it.
The ice, his art, or his partner - it doesn’t matter which. They are all one and the same to him.
He plans to just warm up, maybe skate a few laps to exercise his tight muscles and clear his head. But when this particular song begins playing, his body moves of its own accord, gliding into their routine by muscle memory alone.
It was their exhibition piece from last season. Sure it had been a few months since he had last performed it, but he’s still supposed to be good at it. He’s supposed to be perfect . Yet here he is, skating an old piece still riddled with mistakes.
Maybe if he didn’t make so many mistakes, he wouldn’t be practicing alone.
Maybe if he didn’t make so many mistakes, he would still have his partner.
He glides to a finish, arms raised in his final position and can’t ignore the emptiness, the space between his arms where Kaiser is supposed to be. After a moment, he drops from the position and skates towards the exit of the rink, head hanging low. His eyes trace the ice in front of him, a vast expanse of white, interrupted by a stripe of black indicating that he reached the threshold between the ice and the area around it.
He finds his exit blocked by two pristine white skates. Those skates are attached to legs, which, of course, are attached to a body.
The body belongs to none other than Itoshi Sae.
For a fraction of a second, Alexis feels like he has seen a ghost.
In a way, he has. Itoshi Sae is a modern legend, a figure skating prodigy since he had entered the scene at fifteen years old.
But no one in the figure skating community has seen Itoshi Sae for the better half of a year; not since he sustained a devastating injury after landing poorly on a jump in the middle of his free program in the biggest competition of last season.
Itoshi Sae is a modern legend; both for his meteoric rise to the top, and for that devastating fall.
“Um,” Alexis starts. “Can I help you?”
Itoshi stares. Alexis feels like those teal eyes are stripping him bare.
“Itoshi Sae? Can I help you?” Alexis repeats dumbly.
“Sae.”
“Excuse me?”
“Call me Sae. Who are you?”
Alexis feels the nervous laughter bubble up in his throat. He is very familiar with this particular question, familiar enough to know what Sae is actually trying to ask. “I’m Michael Kaiser’s partner.”
Part of him knows he shouldn’t say that anymore. Part of him knows that by now, that’s a lie. But before Itoshi Sae was a Men’s Singles World Champion, he was Michael Kaiser’s Junior Pairs partner, and Alexis can’t quell the jealousy and possessiveness that swirls in his stomach. Just one more day as Kaiser’s partner, he promises himself. One more day, and he’ll accept his abandonment.
“I didn’t ask about Kaiser. I asked about you. Who are you?”
“I’m nobody special.” Alexis fixes his face into an approximation of his usual charming smile. Maintaining the facade is exhausting, especially now, and Alexis wishes that Sae would just leave him alone already.
“Why would you talk about yourself like that?” Sae says, eyebrows raised. “Don’t you have any pride?”
“Why would that matter?” Alexis’s voice is cloyingly sweet, dripping honey covering the rot he felt in his heart. “Kaiser is my partner. We’re going to be the best in the world. He is my pride.” Lie, lie, lie.
Sae snorts. “That’s bullshit.”
“I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”
“Skaters like Kaiser aren’t worth shit without a competent partner.” Sae’s eyes meet Alexis’s, his gaze appraising. “And you’re far more than competent, aren’t you?”
Alexis feels a flush rise high i n his cheeks.
And suddenly, his game is up. The curtains have risen at the wrong time, his trick has been revealed.
“It doesn’t matter anyway,” he dismisses. “I’m not competing this season. Kaiser wants to focus on his singles routine. He doesn’t want to do pairs.” Not now, maybe not ever.
Sae’s eyebrows furrow. “Just compete in singles, then.”
“I can’t do that. I’m Kaiser’s partner. We perform in pairs. We are a pair.” In short: without Michael Kaiser, Alexis Ness is nothing.
“He’s leaving you, isn’t he? I don’t see the problem.”
Alexis’s expression tightens, his perfect smile finally beginning to crack. He feels his patience fraying.
“But Kaiser -”
“Kaiser, Kaiser, Kaiser,” Sae mocks. “How lukewarm.”
And apparently, that’s all it takes to snap the final strands of Alexis Ness’s composure.
“Don’t you dare fucking say that. You don’t know me, and you don’t know Kaiser. You might be jealous of me, but you’ll never have Kaiser as your partner, no matter how much you want him back. Even if we’re not competing in pairs now, he’s still mine.”
Alexis’s chest is heaving as if he’s just performed his entire routine again, tears collecting in the corners of his eyes and clogging his throat. He stares at Sae, unwilling or unable to tear his gaze away.
Sae looks completely unmoved. “I don't want him back. It’s not you who I’m jealous of.”
act 0.5 - an unwanted servant
Alexis picks up on the second ring.
“Kaiser,” he starts, cheerfully. “Great timing! I have some great ideas for our short program this year. Are you free tomorrow night?”
“About that,” Kaiser’s voice is tinny through Alexis’s left earbud. “Sorry, I meant to tell you before. I’m not doing pairs. I’m just focusing on my singles pieces now. Coach Noa and I have been talking about it for a few weeks, but I only just decided today.”
“Oh,” Alexis starts. Then: “What?”
“I have to go, I’ll talk to you later.” There’s muffled shouting from the other end of the line.
“Wait, Kaiser, what do you mean? Are we not doing a pairs piece this year?”
“Yeah. You can do one with someone else.”
“No, I don’t want to perform with anyone else,” Alexis starts, but is cut off.
“Okay, well, do whatever you want, I guess. Listen, I just called to tell you I’m not doing pairs, but now’s not really a good time for me to talk.”
“We’ll do one together next year, though, right?” Alexis’s voice is just on the edge of hysteria.
He’s met with a buzzing dial tone.
act 2 - an unruly master
Alexis Ness was nothing before Michael Kaiser.
At least, that’s what he chooses to believe.
He certainly had earned his fair share of accolades, both in singles and pairs skating, before Kaiser had ever entered his life. He was a third place singles finisher in the Junior’s Division World Championship.
But isn’t it just so romantic to imagine that Kaiser had picked him out from the garbage and polished him until he shone?
Alexis is a man of few worldly desires. In truth, he just has one: his desire to be the most beautiful, shining jewel inlaid upon Michael Kaiser’s crown.
He remembers when he received the call from his coach telling him that Kaiser had taken an interest in him as a pairs partner. He had sat awake, deep into the early hours of the next morning, watching tapes of Kaiser’s old singles and pairs performances.
Kaiser had several pairs partners during his time in the Junior’s Division and the most notable of them was Itoshi Sae. The two of them skated together not like a couple in perfect harmony, but like a pair of warriors engaging in battle: powerful and smooth like a beautifully choreographed fight. It was mesmerizing.
When he aged out of the Junior’s Division Itoshi Sae had announced his retirement from pairs skating, leaving Kaiser’s search of a new partner.
Alexis knew he wasn’t Itoshi Sae. He knew he could never be Itoshi Sae. But Alexis, a man of few worldly desires, felt greed for the first time that day.
He wanted Micheal Kaiser as his partner. He would become nothing, and allow Kaiser to reshape Alexis in his own image, so that he could be wanted in return.
Now, Alexis Ness is nothing without Michael Kaiser.
act 3 - an unexpected companion
Itoshi Sae has taken to interrupting Alexis’s practice time in the rink.
In reality, ‘interrupting’ may be a strong word to describe what Sae does. All he does is stand in the perimeter of the rink and lean on the railing. He always wears his skates, but he never steps on the ice. He simply stands and watches, occasionally shouting out pointers or corrections to Alexis’s form.
And, in reality, ‘practice’ is also a strong word to describe what Alexis does. All he does is rehash his old pairs performances. He puts on the music and allows his body to carry him through the choreography, muscle memory taking over. When he makes a mistake, he repeats the section over, and over until he performs it perfectly. It’s as if he’s trying to atone for his past sins.
It’s as if he believes that if he can perfect these old choreographies, his old partner may come back to him.
Almost two weeks into this daily routine, and Alexis still doesn’t know why Sae is here.
It’s not you who I’m jealous of.
The words swirl in Alexis’s head. If he doesn’t want Kaiser why spend this much energy on Alexis?
Still, he has to admit that he doesn’t hate it. He doesn’t hate being watched by Sae. The scrutiny is comforting, like scrubbing himself with a hard-bristled brush after spending years covered in dirt.
Every day, when he steps off the rink, Itoshi Sae says the same thing.
“Perform in singles.”
Every day, Alexis replies. “I can’t.”
“Why can’t you?”
This was new. Sae had never continued the conversation past this point before. To be fair, Alexis had never let him. Today he had lingered in the rink rather than going directly to the locker room.
Alexis paints a smile on his face. “For starters, I don’t have a program.”
“Take mine.”
“Yours?” Alexis pauses. “I didn’t know you were competing this year.”
“I’m not. So take mine. I obviously,” Sae stutters, taking a breath. “I obviously can’t skate it myself right now. But I choreographed something anyway. I think it’ll look better on you.”
“I’m sorry,” Alexis says, unusually sincere. “I appreciate the offer, though.”
“Apologize by taking the piece.”
“I told you, I can’t do that. I wouldn’t be any good at it anyway.” Something about the last two weeks has finally worn Alexis down. He can’t bring himself to hold his smile. His face drops into something more neutral. It almost looks like a grimace on him, his mouth sagging at the corners as if drooping from exhaustion from holding up his usual mask. He feels raw, exposed. A magician without his props, tricks laid bare for the world to see.
For some reason, this makes Sae crack a smile, the corners of his lips twitching up.
“Prove it to me.”
“What?”
“Look at it tonight and skate it tomorrow. If by the end of the day tomorrow you hate it and I think you look shitty doing it, we’ll forget this and you can go back to your little fucking trip down memory lane. But if you like it, you have to perform it at least once.”
Alexis doesn’t agree, not in so many words, but he goes home with a new phone number burning a hole in his phone.
When he watches the video of the choreography the first time, he’s astounded. It’s rough, as preliminary choreography videos often are, with a man who looks to be a ballet dancer (“Rin,” as Sae calls him from behind the camera) moves around an empty parking lot as Sae calls out names of figure skating moves and jumps where they don’t clearly translate from solid ground to ice.
Itoshi Sae is insane for two reasons, he decides.
One, for choreographing something so heartachingly beautiful, and deciding to give it away.
And two, for thinking it would look good on Alexis Ness.
Some deep, dark part of Alexis’s mind desperately wants him to be right.
So Alexis knows, even before he steps on the ice that day, what the outcome of Sae’s little bet will be. He knows it as the music comes to a final swell and he stands there, eyes closed and chest heaving, arms wrapped around himself in his final position, feeling for one moment like he is the most powerful person alive.
When he opens his eyes, Sae is in front of him on the ice. Sae isn’t smiling, but there’s a quiet pride in his eyes that tells Alexis they have both reached the same conclusion.
“I don’t have a coach.” Alexis’s voice comes out surprisingly steady. “I already told Coach Noa I wasn’t competing this season.”
“I’ll be your coach.”
And for some reason, Alexis doesn’t question him.
act 4 - an unwelcome guest
His hands clench into fists, nails digging into the flesh of his palm so hard he’s sure they’ll leave crescent moon marks in his skin.
Micheal Kaiser is looking at his new partner like he is the most interesting person in the world. Kaiser used to look at him like that.
Alexis knows Kaiser better than he knows himself. He should have known Kaiser would lie through his teeth.
He realizes - with the rush of a bullet train speeding past, missing him by only a hair’s breadth - that he has been replaced.
And Alexis is nothing once again.
“Kaiser’s a fucking liar,” Sae’s voice comes from slightly behind him. “So what. It didn’t matter then and it doesn’t matter now.”
Alexis can’t find his voice to respond. Sae fills the silence for the both of them. It’s unusual for him - Sae is a man of actions over words - but some part of Alexis realizes that Sae must be doing this to try to calm him down.
“Isagi Yoichi. Name sounds familiar,” he says, reading off of the program. “Kaiser’s also in the singles category. Doesn’t matter though, his singles programs have always been shit. He gets too focused on the technical aspects and always loses performance and interpretation points.”
They’re sitting in the locker room, other competitors milling around them as they prepare for their performances. It’s supposedly a competitor-only area, but Sae had managed to get in as well. Earlier, Alexis had been thankful for the company. Now, a few feet away from Kaiser and his new partner, he wishes neither of them had ever come.
“This was a mistake,” he says abruptly, standing. “I should leave.”
Sae snags his wrist and pulls him back down. “You’re not leaving.”
“I can’t do this.”
“You can.” His voice is firm, leaving no room for discussion.
Alexis says nothing, staring at the tiled floor by his feet. Sae’s hand comes up and cups his chin, turning his face so that they’re looking at each other.
“You can. You are going to get on the ice and perform that piece and make the audience fall,” he pauses, “make the audience believe in you the way I do.”
Alexis is a little startled by the sudden proclamation. They were quiet companions on the rink, Sae’s coaching amounting to little more than constructive criticism. He’s not sure how to respond to this much outward, overt encouragement.
He says the first thing that comes to mind. “If I do well, will Kaiser want me back?”
The hand on his face tightens only fractionally, but the look Sae is giving him could kill.
“If you do well, you’ll never need Kaiser again.”
Somehow, Alexis doubts that. He feels his breath clog in his chest.
“Just promise me one thing,” Sae starts. “When you’re performing, don’t look at Kaiser. Don’t look at anyone. Just look at me. Okay?”
act 5 - an unsworn oath
As Alexis arranges his limbs into his starting position, his eyes search the coach’s area for Sae. Once he finds him, he allows himself to relax, his eyes fluttering closed.
Alexis takes a deep breath, and the music begins.
act 6 - the beginning of the end
When he steps off of the ice after his performance, he’s accosted. He had finished his program feeling fine, good , even, the flush rising in his cheeks from the cheers of the crowd surpassed only by the sight of Sae on his feet, hands out in front of him, as if inviting Alexis to run to him. And truly, there is nothing that he wants more.
The sight of a woman with a microphone steps from where he exited the ice, poised and ready to ask him a hundred different questions, immediately pulls him out of his reverie.
This is an exhibition, not a competition, so there’s no scoring or judging. Still, with high profile competitors, many prominent reporters on figure skating are here. Alexis resigns himself to his fate and allows it.
He does not expect the sheer volume of attention he would receive. He hasn’t given an interview by himself in a long, long time. He had always had his partner by his side. When microphones are thrust into his face and questions begin to fly at him, Alexis can feel breath catching and his heart rate picking up.
Alexis can barely hear over the sound of the blood rushing in his ears.
He does hear one thing though - or rather, he can read lips all around him forming an uncomfortably familiar word.
Kaiser.
The name echoes through his head.
Is this the start of your first competitive season without Kaiser?
Why did you choose to perform without Kaiser?
What do you think of Kaiser’s new partner?
Kaiser, Kaiser, Kaiser, Kaiser, Kaiser, Kaiser -
And before he knows it, he is crying. Fat tears are welling up in the corners of his eyes and dripping down his face. He isn’t sad. He’s proud of his performance, actually. But here he is, unable to control his emotions, feeling like he has been swept up in the current.
He is crying so hard that his vision blurs. So he feels, rather than sees Sae cutting through the crowd and walking towards him.
Alexis can’t stop himself from reaching a hand out towards him. In search of what, he is not entirely sure.
And now, Sae is in front of him, hands on Alexis’s face, thumbs wiping away his tears.
Don’t look at anyone.
And now, Sae is leaning so close that all Alexis can smell is his cologne.
Just look at me.
And now, Sae is kissing his cheek, lips plush and warm and feather-light on his skin, damp and sticky from his tears.
Alexis, almost unconsciously, closes his eyes.
“There. Now they have something else to talk about.” Alexis can feel Sae’s breath warm against his ear.
Sae pulls back. “Let’s go.”
The reporters have gone silent. Either that, or Alexis can simply no longer focus on anything except Itoshi Sae standing in front of him.
“Huh?” Alexis’s voice is thick and garbled with tears.
“Let’s get out of here, Alexis.” Sae reaches out and takes his hand, threading their fingers together.
And something about his name, warm and sweet on Sae’s lips, leaves him with no desire to object.
act 0 - the becoming of alexis ness
Sae was fine . He’s never been better, really. He’s said those words so many times that he’s practically convinced himself.
So he isn’t sure why nobody seems to believe him.
His coach hadn’t been the most supportive of his choice to come to the ice rink today for the first time since the injury. His exact words were probably something more akin to if I hear you were at the rink you can kiss your chances of competing next season goodbye, but Sae didn’t particularly care for the specifics.
He did opt to drive to a rink an hour and a half out of his way, though, in hopes that his coach wouldn’t find out.
His physical therapist had told him he needed to come to terms with the fact that he may never skate competitively again.
His brother had begged him to rest, a request which had broken Sae’s heart the most of all.
What the fuck do they know, Sae thinks, gripping the strap of his duffle bag so tightly that the ribbed edges cut into the soft flesh of his palm. He knows his body better than anyone. He knows he’s ready.
He’s scared if he doesn’t go now, he’ll never be able to step onto the rink again.
It had been almost eight months since he’d last been on the ice, since the dramatic fall in the middle of a competition that tore his ACL.
The moment had played out in his mind like slow motion. The axel jump, two clean rotations in the air. The third, under rotated, the ground rushing back up to him faster than he was prepared for. The sound of his body hitting the ice, echoing through a stadium practically silent except for his music.
The way he lay there, limp and lifeless, begging for his limbs to obey him. The adrenaline had deadened the feeling of pain, but not the sheer, overwhelming panic that surged through him in that moment.
Sae’s hands shake imperceptibly as he laces up his skates.
It’s just the cold, he tells himself. I’m just not used to it anymore.
When he walks out of the locker room , he is fully planning on getting on the ice.
So it’s a mystery how Sae finds himself frozen in place, inches away from it. One single step separates him from his past. It might as well be a galaxy. The ground practically turns into a black hole, and Sae is afraid that if he sways even the slightest bit forward he will be sucked in, never to return.
He stands there, hands gripping the railing, at a loss before the insurmountable challenge before him.
Then, the music starts.
Sae registers that he is not alone.
He looks up and, as if in slow motion, he sees someone glide onto the ice from the other side of the rink.
Sae faintly recognizes him as Michael Kaiser’s pairs partner. Admittedly, Sae has never paid much attention to Kaiser’s career after parting ways with him. He was just another stepping stone on Sae’s rise to the top.
Fat lot of good that did him now.
This man is beautiful. That’s Sae’s first thought. But beauty isn’t uncommon in their line of work. In fact, Sae would go so far as to say that beauty is their job , both on and off the ice.
If beauty is a currency, this man’s coffers are full. Yet when he starts to move, he skates like he is in desperate need, as if he has nothing at all.
Sae watches him as he tells a story of loneliness and of longing, his arms reaching out for a partner who isn’t there.
Sae has skated alone for years. To him, loneliness on the ice like an old friend. Seeing this man is like looking into a warped mirror; where Sae has chosen loneliness, this man has been thrust into it. He looks lost in a labyrinth of his own design.
Sae doesn’t realize he’s crying until the cold air of the rink stings his damp cheeks.
--
The first time Sae sees Alexis perform his choreographed short program is also the first time he steps onto the ice since the accident. He doesn’t even realize it until they are standing in front of each other, and by then Alexis’s big maroon eyes are on him and he can’t think of anything other than Alexis, Alexis, Alexis .
act 7 - epilogue
Alexis Ness had always been a man of few worldly desires, but now he finds himself wanting . He wants, and wants, and wants, and it’s like a dam has been smashed open in his chest because suddenly he is the greediest person alive for how he wants Itoshi Sae, and how he wants Itoshi Sae to want him, exactly as he is, in return.
The words leave his mouth before he has a chance to think them through. “Be my partner next season.”
Sae glances up at him, and like it’s the most natural thing in the world, he replies: “Okay.”