“Yes,” he admitted. “But it’s still terrifying. After everything with Nico… going back to Toronto feels like walking into a haunted house. Every corner has a ghost. Every rink has a memory.” He swallowed. “And the skating world is going to be watching. Waiting to see if I fall apart again.”
“Oh, snowdrop.” It slipped out before I could stop it, low and aching.
His jaw tightened. He looked away from the camera for a second—composing himself, I realized. When he looked back, his eyes were glassy.
“Seeing Nico in that hospital bed…” He stopped, started again. “It scared me. Not just because of what happened to him but because I understood it. How he got there. The exhaustion. The pressure. The feeling like you just want everything to stop.” His voice cracked. “I’ve been there, Derek. I’ve been exactly there. And going back to competing—back to that world—what if it puts me right back in that place?”
The question hung between us, raw and honest. I wished I was next to him. I wished I could pull him into my arms and hold him until the fear passed.
“If this is something you want,” I said, keeping my voice steady, “I’ll support you. Whatever that looks like. If you need me at practice, I’ll be there. If you need me to just listen, I can do that. If you need someone to remind you that you can do this differently—Théo, you can.” I swallowed. “I’ve watched you fight for it. Every single day.”
He was quiet for a moment. Then, softly, almost to himself, “What if I’m not strong enough?”
“Then you’ll have people who catch you,” I said. “Sabrina. Your mom. Your brother.” I paused. “Me. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Even if I spiral?”
“Even then,” I said. No hesitation. “You think I don’t know what pressure looks like? After Mackenzie, the concussion, the ACL—I didn’t think I was coming back. It was the darkest, loneliest stretch of my life. I don’t recommend doing it alone.” I leaned closer to the camera. “You’re doing the work. You’re talking about it. That’s not weakness.”
“Nico asked me if it gets better,” Théo said suddenly. His voice was thick. “When I visited him. He looked at me like I had the answer and I told him that it gets different, the bad days get further apart—but afterwards I kept thinking… what if I was lying? What if I’m not actually better? What if I’m just pretending well enough that people believe me?”
“You’re not pretending.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’ve seen what you look like when you’re pretending,” I said quietly. “And this isn’t it.” I held his gaze. “You don’t let people in by accident, Théo. You’ve let me in. That’s not a mask. That’s progress.”
He blinked a few times, fast, and turned his head slightly away from the camera.
“I landed a quad today,” he said, voice wavering. “First one in months. Coach Miller was watching and he just… nodded. Like it was no big deal. But it felt like a big deal. It felt like proof that maybe I’m not completely broken.”
“You’re not broken.” My voice came out fiercer than I intended. “You’re healing. There’s a difference.”
He looked back at the screen and something in his expression had shifted. Still vulnerable, but lighter. Like he’d set down something heavy and was surprised to find his arms still worked.
“I really want to kiss you right now,” he said.
“Four more days.”
“That’s forever.”
He yawned hugely and I watched the tension finally start to drain from his shoulders.
“You should get some sleep, snowdrop. You’re going to have a grueling schedule ahead and you need your rest.”
“Promise to call tomorrow?”
“Promise.”
“Goodnight, Derek.”
“Goodnight, Théo.”
???
The next night we had another chat about his training. We didn’t have a game so I was able to call him earlier, settling back against the hotel headboard while he walked me through his session with Coach Miller. The new choreography for his short program. The jump layout he was considering. The way his anxiety spiked every time he thought about the judges’ table.
We talked for hours. About skating, about the team, about nothing important at all. His mom’s latest attempts to learn how to use Instagram. The reality dating show Hana had gotten him hooked on. Unhinged theories aboutGame of Thrones.
