The applause resonated like a thundering rain over the rink. The scene was so captivating that the audience, hypnotized, wouldn't stop cheering. However, upon realizing that all eyes were on them, a primal instinct awakened in Jake: the desire to hide his treasure. Without a second thought, he wrapped Aibek in his arms, protecting him against his chest as if he could prevent the gazes of others from even touching him. It was a possessive side he was barely beginning to know, but the embarrassment of being the center of attention made him laugh at the irony of his own reaction.
"Jake... it's better to leave..." Aibek whispered, his voice trembling, though he snuggled even deeper into his refuge.
It was of little use. The photographers were relentless, and within seconds, the video of their dance went viral. They were a trending topic. The story they had told on the ice had become a public manifesto of their closeness.
"No, just a little longer... please," the Canadian begged, tightening his grip around the younger youth's waist. He didn't want to lose that warmth, that contact confirming Aibek was right there, present.
"Just a bit..." Aibek yielded with a pout, letting himself go. For the first time, he wasn't thinking about technique, or the judges, or the fear of external judgment. He was surrendering to those arms with a vulnerability that felt liberating.
"Beky... you make me so happy..." Jake murmured against his hair. His heart was hammering with such intensity that he feared Aibek could feel the agitation beneath his ribs.
"I really like being with you..." Aibek responded in a breath, finally confessing, after years of repression, a feeling he had feared would be rejected. There was no rejection; on the contrary, Jake held him tighter, reaffirming that, to him, the Kazakh was his entire world.
But miles away, in an office steeped in opulent coldness, Zinov Kuznetsov watched the screen. His fury wasn't a gradual burn; it was an instantaneous explosion. With a roar that shook the walls, he smashed his phone against the marble, shattering it into pieces. His bloodshot eyes locked onto the image of Aibek in the arms of another. To Zinov, Aibek wasn't a person; he was an extension of his own will, a possession being stolen from him.
"I am going to wipe that idiot smile off your face!" he bellowed, kicking the desk. "I won't let you keep MY Aibek!"
He paced the room like a caged beast, hating the Canadian with every fiber of his being. In his twisted logic, he convinced himself that his previous abandonment of Aibek had been a "lesson in strength," and now, that lesson was being ruined by an intruder.
"Bek! You are coming back to me!" he muttered with a smirk dripping with arrogance, refusing to face reality. "I know you love me. I am still the owner of your thoughts, even if the boy wants to play at rebellion."
When Zinov managed to power up a spare phone and dialed, the call went straight to voicemail. The shout of frustration he let out was that of a man who knows he is losing control.
Meanwhile, back at the rink, Aibek was taking off his skates with Jake by his side, watching over him as if he were made of glass. Then, the familiar—all too familiar—ringtone of his phone shattered the calm of the locker room. Seeing the name on the screen, the color drained from his face.
"Oh... It's... Zinov..." Aibek hesitated. He looked at Jake, who, with a gesture of forced courtesy, stepped away a few paces to give him privacy. Aibek answered, trembling.
"YOU FINALLY ANSWER!" Zinov's shout was so violent that Jake tensed instantly.
"Zinov... calm down..." Aibek pleaded, his voice breaking. The submission the Russian usually invoked in him surfaced immediately—a conditioned response that made Jake's blood boil.
"I AM NOT GOING TO CALM DOWN WHEN YOU ARE SELLING YOURSELF TO SOMEONE ELSE IN PLAIN PUBLIC! SPEAK, AIBEK! DO YOU NOT LOVE ME ANYMORE?!"
The shout was loud enough for Jake to hear perfectly. The disappointment in Jake's eyes felt like a direct cut to Aibek's heart. Unable to endure the scene, the Canadian abruptly stood up and walked out of the facility into the freezing air outside, seeking solace in a cigarette.
"I don't have time for your madness!" Aibek snapped, hanging up and throwing the phone away. He felt dirty, as if Zinov's voice had left a stain. He ran out after Jake.
"Jake! Wait! It's not what you think!" he managed to catch up with him outside. Jake stopped, his back turned. His shoulders were tense, and his gaze, when he finally turned to face him, was one of the coldest Aibek had ever seen.
"Then what was it? A joke in bad taste?" Jake asked, his voice tinged with a deep sadness that hurt more than anger.
Arming himself with courage, Aibek took him firmly by the arm. Jake, surprised by the younger man's strength, didn't pull away. They ended up walking until they found a themed café, decorated with figures of bears and lions—a place that felt like a reminder of their happy moments.
They sat down, surrounded by plushies and decorative figures. Tension was a third guest at the table. Aibek knew this was the moment of truth: either he erased Zinov's shadow once and for all, or fear would end up separating them indefinitely.
"Listen to me, Jake," Aibek began, locking his purple eyes onto the Canadian's blue ones. "That man... Zinov... has no ownership over me. And if you are going to hate me because of his shouting, then he will have won. I don't love him. Never again. And if you are willing to believe me, we will have to learn to face that lion together. Because, even though it scares me, he is no longer the one I choose at the end of the day. I choose you."
Hearing those words, Jake felt the coldness in his chest begin to melt away, giving rise to a new and dangerous determination. The storm was only beginning, but for the first time, they were on the same side.