The echo of the applause still vibrated in the air by the time Aibek managed to steady his emotions. With a solemn bow to the audience, he headed toward the rink's exit. There, right at the edge of the ice, Jake was waiting for him with open arms. The Canadian wrapped him in a protective embrace, ignoring the incessant flash of cameras, the fixed stares of the judges, and the murmurs of the spectators witnessing this spontaneous display of support.
Jake refused to leave his side. With a renewed confidence, he accompanied the Kazakh to the kiss-and-cry area to await the revelation of the scores.
When the final numbers flashed on the screen, disbelief swept through the arena. Neither the circuit analysts nor the two Russian skaters present could fully process the result—no one except Jake, who celebrated with a victorious shout. Aibek Kenes had been crowned the gold medalist! The Light of Kazakhstan led the podium in first place, followed by Jake himself with the silver medal. Third place went to Zinov, the platinum-haired skater, whose expression reflected a deep bitterness at being sidelined and, worse still, at being forced to witness the camaraderie between his former friend and the Canadian he detested most.
During the official photo session, Aibek's pride shone just as brightly as the golden metal on his chest. As they skated closer to the barrier for the photojournalists, Jake didn't miss the opportunity to show off the bond that united them. In a bold move, he looped his arm around Aibek's waist to pull him into an intimate embrace. They posed before the lenses: the Canadian with a countenance brimming with gallantry, and the Kazakh maintaining an impeccable seriousness, though the faint, involuntary blush that color-kissed his cheeks was immortalized forever in the press photos.
The attention shifted immediately to the press conference table, where the microphones concentrated almost exclusively on the first and second-place winners, intrigued by the obvious chemistry between them.
"How long have you two maintained a friendly relationship?" one of the journalists inquired.
"It has been for such a long time!" Jake replied immediately, unable to hide the excitement in his dark eyes. "Getting to talk to him again has been the best thing in the world."
"When exactly did you meet?"
"We've known each other since we were little! We went to the same kindergarten," the Canadian suddenly revealed.
The declaration caught the reporters by surprise and sent a sudden shockwave through Aibek's memory, unearthing childhood recollections he thought had been buried forever.
"Would you be open to competing in pairs skating in the future?" another voice launched from the crowd.
"On my end, there would be no problem at all," Jake assured, squeezing the Kazakh's shoulder to keep him from distancing himself at the table. "We'd have to see if my friend Bek likes the idea."
"Well... it wouldn't be a bad performance," Aibek murmured when the attention centered on him, weighing the possibility shyly.
"Are you currently dating?"
The direct question caused a slow, evident blush to stain both of their faces. Sharing the same shyness, they answered in unison:
"No."
A murmur of disappointment rippled through the room, until a reporter at the back exclaimed bluntly:
"You should. You make a beautiful couple."
Jake reacted instantly, giving a thumbs-up and a knowing smile in approval of the comment, while Aibek averted his gaze to the floor, utterly overwhelmed by the situation. In the midst of the hubbub, a muffled growl came from the far end of the table; Zinov remained there, relegated to the background like a total non-entity, brooding over the frustration of watching the present erase the last vestiges of the past.
Once their media commitments were concluded, the athletes returned to their respective hotels to prepare for the official closing banquet. As the brand-new champion of the night, Aibek knew his attendance was mandatory, so he took extra care with his appearance. In front of his room's mirror, he observed his reflection with a quiet smile, savoring the triumph. His hair was perfectly styled back in the sleek look of his routines, and he wore an elegant, finely tailored suit—a special gift from his coach.
Upon entering the banquet hall, the dark-haired youth was greeted by a wave of congratulations from his circuit peers, with the obvious exception of the two Russian skaters, who kept their distance.
"Beky..." The voice, laced with that vibrant familiarity he was already beginning to recognize, made him turn around.
Jake stood a few steps away, offering him a soft smile and a courteous bow.
"Jake. I thought you'd decide not to come," Aibek commented with a touch of sarcasm, though his serious facade quickly cracked into a shared laugh.
"No, how could you think I'd miss your debut as champion? No way. I'm here to support you, just like the old days," the Canadian answered in a low voice.
With a natural gesture, Jake lightly placed his arm around his shoulders and guided him toward the hall's balcony, seeking the fresh night air and a respite from the bustling crowd. Aibek leaned against the stone balustrade, contemplating the moon shining sharply in the winter sky, creating a serene and beautiful tableau.
"You talk about those days... I remembered them the moment you mentioned them in the interview," the younger man confessed, without tearing his eyes away from the firmament.
"You used to always stand at your bedroom window to look at the moon," Jake commented softly.
Aibek tensed immediately, turning toward him with a mix of surprise and bewilderment at being caught in such an intimate habit.
"What are you talking about, Jake? I can tell you're not just saying that randomly," the Kazakh sighed, shaking his head as a slight alarm of shyness flared in his mind. "I'm starting to think you were a stalker since childhood."
"I'll be honest. We were neighbors," Jake confessed, averting his gaze toward the horizon with a hint of bashfulness. "From my window, I used to watch you look at the stars. I guess it was my way of searching for a connection."
Aibek softened his expression, processing the confession.
"Silly... Every time I looked at the moon, it was to find a moment of calm," he reflected aloud.
Before he could add anything else, Jake closed the distance, subtly cornering him against the stone balustrade. The Canadian's body reduced the space between them, leaving the Kazakh enclosed within his proximity.
"Beky... dear," Jake whispered, shortening the gap with the clear intention of drawing him into a deeper embrace.
A sharp, unexpected whistle shattered the balcony's atmosphere.
"Well, look what we have here! The meeting of first and second place," the drawn-out, amused voice belonged to Henry. The Swiss skater watched them from the balcony entrance with a mocking smirk, provoking an instant blush from both skaters. "Go on, go on, don't stop on my account."
Awkwardness quickly settled between them. In that instant, Aibek spotted a familiar figure approaching and internally thanked his coach's timely intervention. Taishi Takahashi, a former elite skater and holder of four consecutive gold medals, walked toward them with a firm stride.
Taishi had taken over Aibek's training after Venka left him adrift on the circuit. Driven by the pride of guiding a young man with an unyielding desire for self-improvement and an iron will to polish every jump and technical detail, Taishi considered the Kazakh his greatest achievement as a mentor. With Aibek being his first official student, the coach treated him with impeccable respect.
With a small, elegant bow directed at the group, Taishi extended his hand toward his pupil, requesting that he accompany him back to the main hall to formally begin the celebration.