Dean stayed still, waiting.
“I think you believe I was frightened by attraction itself.” I shook my head. “That was never the problem. I grew up around men like Sokolov and federation officials and coaches who treated discipline as religion. Every hour of my life revolved around restraint—what to say, how to behave, what parts of myself deserved air and which needed locking away before anybody noticed them.” My voice roughened, though I kept going before hesitation could close my throat. “So when I wanted men, I ignored it. Not because desire horrified me, but because I understood my own capacity for it. I knew if I ever stopped denying myself entirely, Iwould not do it halfway.” I finally looked at him. “I was afraid of becoming attached to someone in a manner I could not survive losing.”
He gazed at me, so quiet.
“And then there was you,” I said, my voice soft. “The only reason I dared to want you? That was because the Olympics had already loosened the lock.”
“So I opened the door?” he said with a smile.
I shook my head. “No, you were simply standing on the other side of it, waiting for me. And then you walked into my life and looked directly atmeinstead of the version I perform for everyone else.”
The confession left me raw in a way skating never had.
“I had a thought while you were in the shower.”
Dean arched his eyebrows. “That sentence could go in several directions.”
Under any other circumstances I would have smiled properly at that. Instead I stared down at our hands again.
“In ten days, perhaps less, I will board a plane back to Velkarya. The Games will end. You will return home celebrated and adored, and I…” I paused, searching for language that didn’t sound theatrical or self-pitying. “I will return to a life where every step has already been mapped out for me. Interviews. Appearances. Federation dinners. Questions about medals and national pride and gratitude.” My fingers tightened around his. “And through all of it, I will carry the knowledge of what waits outside that life. What I found here with you.”
Dean watched me carefully now in a way that told me he already understood where this was heading.
“Heavy thoughts,” he said quietly.
“I know.”
His jaw flexed before he spoke again. “You asked me once if I regretted this.”
My throat tightened because I remembered the exact look on his face when he’d asked it. “And you told me no.”
“I meant it.” Dean shifted closer, his knee pressing against mine. “Luka?—”
“No, let me finish.” I sat up, dragging a hand through my hair before looking him in the eye. “I think part of me believed that if I kept this unnamed, if I avoided saying certain things aloud, then eventually distance or fear or reality would solve the problem for me. That I would go home and survive it because surviving difficult things is what I have always done.”
Dean didn’t interrupt.
“But that stopped working somewhere along the way.” I swallowed hard. “Maybe the moment you asked me to stay. Maybe earlier.” I forced myself to keep speaking instead of retreating into silence the way I usually would. “I love you. And I think I have for longer than I wanted to admit, because nothing else explains why losing you already feels unbearable.”
Dean closed his eyes.
I kept talking before fear could reclaim the words.
“I don’t know what happens after Milan. I don’t know whether I am brave enough for the life you deserve from me. But I need you to understand this much at least.” My voice unsteadied despite every attempt to hold it firm. “Loving you will never become the thing I regret. Hiding it, perhaps. Being frightened of it. Leaving you behind. Those things may haunt me for the rest of my life.” I reached up then, touching his face carefully. “But not this.”
“Luka.” He reached for me slowly, his hand settling against my face. “I love you too.”
He rested his forehead against mine. “We’ll figure the rest out later. Velkarya. Distance. All of it.” His thumb brushed across my cheek. “But you’re not carrying it by yourself anymore.”
I closed my eyes.
My future remained uncertain, but I did not feel entirely afraid of it.
I wasn’t facing it alone.
Dean
It feltas though both of us didn’t want to leave my room, to put off the separation that had to come.
