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In the almost four years that Enjolras had known his friends, he always managed to avoid ice skating with them. This was very purposeful. It had to be. After all, they lived in the Northeast, so plenty of opportunities arose for him to go ice skating. He just never took advantage of them. Because Enjolras had a secret. A dark, terrible secret.
Given how nosy and internet savvy his friends were, it was kind of a miracle that only Combeferre and Courfeyrac knew about his past.
But it was time.
“You okay with this?” Combeferre asked.
Enjolras nodded gamely. Joly and Bossuet had their hearts set on the Amis going skating. All the Amis. It was the beginning of their last semester of undergrad. Nature had blessed them with a blanket of snow, which meant classes were cancelled for the next few days at least. Joly and Bossuet decided ice skating (followed by an evening of hot cocoa by the fire) was the perfect way to kick off the semester. Enjolras considered only showing up for the latter part of the day, but when he said as much to the group chat, he received dozens of sad emojis and gifs. So he relented, and agreed to go. He couldn’t be the only one in their group to not go ice skating. It would make his friends unhappy. And that was enough for him to reverse his policy on ice skating.
Still, as the entire group headed to the rink, Enjolras felt antsy. He was usually very open with his friends, but there were certain parts of his life he would rather keep private. And the fear of them discovering his past was eating him up.
At least they were alone at the rink. It was located behind the university rec center, specially built for students to enjoy in the winter months. The university and its facilities were officially closed because of the weather, but Bahorel worked at the rec center, had the keys, and said it was okay. No one was really sure whether or not he cleared it first or whether he decided he just didn’t care. (He probably asked his supervisor first. She was a grad student, taller and tougher than Bahorel himself. She was always laughing when Enjolras saw her, and Bahorel seemed both terrified and entranced by her.)
As soon as Bahorel unlocked the door, there was a mad rush to where the ice skates were stored. No one wanted an old, dirty pair. Enjolras approached the lockers warily, and picked out the first pair that was his size, not caring about appearance. He laced them up on the bench as far from his friends as possible, listening to their chatter.
“I wonder how many people have been murdered by ice-skates,” Eponine said conversationally.
“Ooh. Buffy did that in one of the early episodes,” Jehan said cheerfully.
Enjolras tried to tune out the rest of their quite frankly troubling conversation about ice skates and murder. He tied and retied his skates for what felt like the millionth time.
“Nervous, oh fearless leader?”
Enjolras turned and scowled at Grantaire. “Of course not.”
“It’s just ice skating,”
“I’m aware of what group activity we’re about to do,” Enjolras said, rolling his eyes.
“There’s no shame in not being an expert, you know,” Grantaire said seriously.
“Never said there was.”
“I know. But you seem nervous, so I’m just saying, it’s okay if you suck. No one’s going to judge you if you fall flat on your perfect ass.”
“I didn’t think anyone would judge-” Enjolras paused, the entirety of Grantaire’s words catching up to him. “Wait, what?”
“What?” Grantaire said, his face turning bright red.
“Did you just-”
“No,” Grantaire said, quickly. “Well, I should….”
He waddled away as quickly as he could while wearing ice skates on the changing area floor.
That was odd.
But Enjolras had no time to worry about Grantaire’s weirdness, because everyone else was already out on the rink, and his absence would surely be noticed soon. He sighed as he made his way to the rink. He caught Courfeyrac’s eye. Courfeyrac gave him a reassuring nod, so Enjolras hesitated only a small fraction of a second before getting on the rink.
And was okay. He could do this. He could confine himself to circling around the outer edge, right against the wall. No one would suspect a thing. Slow and steady. Sloow and steady. He had this.
Bahorel and Feuilly raced back and forth across the rink. Neither of them were good enough skaters, so they kept crashing into each other and the walls. Bossuet kept falling over too, and dragged Joly and Musichetta down with him. After about the third time he did this, Musichetta had had enough.
“Babe, I love you, but you’re going to ruin my nails,” she said, kissing both her boyfriends on the cheek, before joining Eponine for rather more dignified turns around the ring.
Marius and Cosette held hands and sweetly skated around the rink. Jehan flitted around the rink with a slightly aggressive gait. Enjolras remembered distantly that Jehan’s dad made him do hockey, so perhaps that had something to do with why he looked ready to bowl anyone over that got in his way. Courfeyrac, who usually looked so suave on solid ground, was wobbly, like a baby giraffe. Combeferre was actually pretty decent at skating, and was going backwards, laughing as he encouraged Courfeyrac forward. And Grantaire...
Grantaire was amazing. Of course he was. He had an aggravating ability to pick up random skills. Enjolras had no idea how he hadn’t realized before that ice skating was one of them. (Well, actually he did know. It’s because Enjolras never went ice skating).
The way Grantaire moved was breathtaking. He did flips and turns and spins, and made it look easy. But what was more, what filled Enjolras with an envious ache was that Grantaire looked happy. He was beaming as he did a sit spin to everyone’s oohs and aaah. Enjolras felt Combeferre glance at him to see his reaction, but he kept his expression neutral.
When Grantaire got bored of showing off, he approached Enjolras, who still hovered by the wall.
“So you’re a figure skater,” Enjolras said. He didn’t even bother to phrase it like a question.
“I dabble,” Grantaire said, shrugging. Enjolras huffed, and edged past him. Grantaire , the little shit, got in front of Enjolras, and skated backwards. “What?”
“Some people work really, really hard to be good at figure skating, and you just dabble?”
Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Fine, I’ve done it on and off for a few years, and in the winter, I teach it to beginners. Happy?”
Enjolras sighed. He wasn’t being fair. This wasn’t about Grantaire, it was about him, and his own issues. “I’m sorry. It’s just…I guess I don’t understand how you can regard it so casually. I always assumed you had to let figure skating consume your entire life to get good at it.”
“Was that a compliment buried in a lecture?” Grantaire smirked. “It’s not that hard. Let me show you.”
“No, I’m good. I’ll stick to just doing laps,” Enjolras said.
But Grantaire wasn’t having any of that.
“Come on!” he said, waggling his eyebrows. “Unless you’re scared?”
Enjolras never could resist rising to Grantaire’s challenges. He picked up speed, and to his surprise, found himself laughing as the cold air hit his face. He was so caught up in the delightful feeling of the wind whipping against his face, and Grantaire’s smile as he turned the corner, that he almost didn’t notice Bossuet trip, drag Joly down with him. Enjolras was just considering himself lucky that they hadn’t fallen in his path, when Bossuet’s phone slipped out of his pocket and skittered a few feet in front of Enjolras.
There was no time to think. Enjolras reacted instinctively, using the speed he had going to leap over the phone. Unfortunately, the jump put him right near a corner. His options were to either crash into the wall or... he grit his teeth as he landed and executed a perfect spin.
He spun and spun until he worked through the momentum from the jump, and could stand at ease. He caught himself grinning. It had been so long since he felt that particular rush of adrenaline, the giddiness of a sticking the landing so to speak. His smile died when he remembered he wasn’t alone, and in fact, was surrounded by all his friends. From the ground, Bossuet and Joly gaped up at him.
“Hoooooly shit,” Feuilly said.
“What the fuck was that?” Eponine said.
“Uh…” Enjolras said, turning to face the rest of his friends. “Luck?”
“Bullshit!” Bahorel said, pointing an accusatory finger at Enjolras. “That was a gorgeous motherfucking backspin right there. That was beautiful.”
“Backspin?” Eponine repeated incredulously.
“What? Ice skating is an elegant, physically demanding sport that I enjoy watching. I’m not ashamed!”
“So how did you know how to do a backspin?” Cosette asked tentatively.
Enjolras took a deep breath. “Alright. Fine. Everyone, I have something to tell you.”
He made the mistake of looking up at his friends. For the most part, they looked supportive. He couldn’t read the expression on Grantaire’s face though. He took a deep breath. This was it. The secret he had dreaded his friends finding out for years. Once he said it, there was no going back, and his friends would always look at him a little differently.
“I used to be a champion figure skater.”
There was a stunned silence. Finally, Joly spoke up.
“I’m sorry….What?”’
Enjolras sighed. “From the age of four to seventeen, I was a figure skater. I did competitions and…yeah.”
Where was his eloquence when he needed it?
“You were…good, I take it?” Jehan asked tentatively.
“They wanted him to try out for the Olympics team!” Courfeyrac said proudly.
“Courfeyrac,” Enjolras hissed.
“What? I’ve been wanting to brag about that for years. Anyway, the cats out of the bag, and you know they were going to Google your figure skating career right after we left.”
“I’m doing it already,” Eponine said.
Bahorel peered over her shoulder at her phone and gasped. “Oh my god. Enjolras, I didn’t think it was possible, but I love you even more now.”
“How did we not know this?” Musichetta said.
“I’ve done enough activism that those articles pop up first when you Google me,” Enjolras said.
“I don’t make a habit of Googling my friends,” Musichetta said, rolling her eyes. “I meant why didn’t you ever tell us?”
Joly gasped. “Don’t tell me. A tragic accident kept you from your Olympic dreams?”
“No,” Enjolras said, clenching his fist. “It’s because- I hated it!”
Bahorel let out an indignant shriek. Enjolras pressed on.
“It was something my mother made me do. And I hated every second of it. It was very elitist. Our coaches bullied all of us, but especially the girls about our weight and appearance constantly. They were cruel. As I got older, I watched the people I started out with slowly quit. Because they were pushed too far and injured themselves, or had nervous breakdowns. Because our adult coaches were so awful to them, my friends started to hate something they used to do for fun. It was terrible. And it took up all my free time. I couldn’t hang out with my friends. I couldn’t volunteer or do activism or anything that mattered. I started getting scholarship offers, and people scouting me. I got in a huge fight with my mother, because I didn’t want the figure skating to shape the rest of my life. I told her if she didn’t let me quit, I’d break both my legs, so she finally relented. And that’s that. I haven’t looked back since.”
“I call bullshit,” Grantaire said quietly.
Enjolras whirled on him. “I think I know my own life story, Grantaire.”
“I don’t think you hated every second of it. I saw your face when you finally started letting loose. And your face when you nailed that spin. I think you enjoy figure skating, but had the misfortune of training with a bunch of assholes. You’re one of the ones who used to do it for fun but started to hate it because of your coaches were bullies who had no business teaching kids.”
That was completely ridiculous. Enjolras opened his mouth to argue, but something stopped him from voicing his retort. Because deep down, he knew Grantaire was right. He hadn’t always hated it. What difference did it make though? It was something that he had put behind him.
Grantaire stood up and extended his hand to Enjolras. Enjolras stared at him.
Bahorel let out an excited squeal. “Yessssss.”
Courfeyrac looked between Grantaire and Enjolras. “Ohmygod. You guys. You have to. You have to.”
The rest of their friends were starting to murmur to each other with barely concealed anticipation. And who was Enjolras to go against the majority? He took Grantaire’s hand.
But he had to be honest, at least with himself. He didn’t take it because his friends were clamoring for them to show off their figure skating. He took Grantaire’s hand because he wanted to. Because Grantaire had started to look embarrassed for offering, and that wouldn’t do. Because he wanted to share something positive with Grantaire. Because he liked that for once, Grantaire was going to try to convince him to see the good in something.
“We’ll start slow,” Grantaire said.
In the background, Enjolras was dimly aware of Feuilly starting music over the loudspeakers. It sounded like a song from a film soundtrack Enjolras had heard before.
True to his word, Grantaire started slow, circling Enjolras. Enjolras mimicked him, until he felt comfortable enough to drop into a sit spin, much to the delight of their onlookers. When he came to a stop, he caught Grantaire’s eye and found the other man beaming at him.
They traded off like that for a while: Enjolras would do a jump or a spin, then Grantaire would do one. But as they started to get to the climax of the song, Grantaire surprised Enjolras by saying, “Trust me?”
Enjolras nodded. Then the next thing he knew, Grantaire was skating behind him, and putting his hands firmly on Enjolras’s waist. He lifted Enjolras up with his strong arms, and suddenly, Enjolras felt like he was soaring.
All too soon, the song was over, and Grantaire was gently lowering Enjolras back to the ground. They were face to face, and once Enjolras’s feet hit the ice, he felt a sudden giddiness. A small breathless laugh escaped. Grantaire echoed it, and leaned forward, resting his forehead against Enjolras’s for just a brief second, before the loud whooping of their friends reminded Enjolras that they had an audience. Grantaire seemed suddenly embarrassed by their close proximity, and backed away as their friends crowded in.
“That was amazing!” Courfeyrac said.
“I can’t believe you haven’t skated in years.” Bossuet said enviously.
“I can’t believe you never told us about this before,” Eponine said.
Enjolras just shrugged. It had never seemed to matter before. And he had never missed it or thought he would miss it, until he had skated with Grantaire. Speaking of…where had he gone?
He craned his neck, and saw Grantaire skating away from the crowd, and off the rink.
He didn’t manage to talk to Grantaire until that evening, when they were all crowded in Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta’s flat. They were crammed in the kitchen, making hot cocoa and popcorn before starting a movie night. Enjolras snagged two cups of cocoa and went out in the living room, where he found Grantaire curled up on the corner, wrapped up in a pile of blankets, with a contemplative expression on his face.
“Mind if I join you?”
Grantaire looked surprised to see him, but scooted over, and offered some blanket to Enjolras. Enjolras repaid him by offering one of the mugs of cocoa.
“I wanted to thank you for earlier.”
“Don’t mention it,” Grantaire said.
“Grantaire,” Enjolras said, until Grantaire met his eye. “Thank you. I had fun. I didn’t realize skating could be, but it was.”
“You’re welcome,” Grantaire replied quietly.
“Maybe…” Here Enjolras lost his courage, so instead he took a sip of his hot chocolate.
Grantaire nudged his knee. “What?”
“Maybe we could do it again some time?” Enjolras said.
“I’d like that,” Grantaire said, smiling shyly.
They both sat in compatible silence, until Grantaire burst out laughing.
“Bahorel’s birthday is in a month. We should surprise him with a couple’s routine.”
“Couple?” Enjolras repeated.
“I meant…” Grantaire said, trying to backtrack.
Enjolras silenced him by laying his hand over Grantaire’s free one. “That sounds good to me.”
“Good,” Grantaire said, looking slightly dazed. “Good, I mean, you know, for Bahorel’s sake. He’ll probably cry.”
“Is that the only reason?”
“And I guess…it won’t be so terrible to spend some extra time with you. As long as you promise not to murder me with an ice skate. Eponine left some pretty graphic images in my head, and I know we argue, but let’s not, you know, hack each other to death when we practice or anything.”
Enjolras interrupted his stammering by kissing Grantaire gently on the cheek. Grantaire seemed shocked into silence. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Grantaire rubbed his cheek reverently. “Good. Brilliant. Yeah.”
Enjolras smiled smugly, then snuggled against Grantaire as their friends slowly trickled in and started the movie.
(Bahorel totally cried when he saw their couple’s routine).