"Aaron,” Zack said quietly.
And Aaron knew in that moment that the answer—to a question he hadn’t even asked—was no.
“Yeah?” The word came out as more of a croak. He cleared his throat. Part of him wanted to run before Zack could say whatever he was about to say, but Aaron had never run from bad news or bad scores before and he wasn’t about to start now.
Zack looked at his hands on the table and then up at Aaron again. “We can’t keep doing this.”
“You mean the bondage? Did Katie freak out at you? Because it doesn’t—” Now Aaron was really babbling, but Zack cut him off.
“Not the bondage, Aaron,” Zack’s voice was soft, only for Aaron’s ears. “Any of it. All of it.”
“Okay.” Aaron blinked and found he was blinking back tears. He screwed his hands into fists under the table, suddenly desperate to keep his feelings in check. The fall had been both unexpected and painful, but he had to pick himself and keep skating. “Can I ask why?” he said when he thought he could control his voice again.
Zack sighed. “Because I’m in the middle of a divorce and you’re going to the Olympics.”
“Trying to go,” Aaron said reflexively. “And you said the divorce was final.”
“Yes, both those things are true.” Zack said firmly. “You don’t need the distraction. I need not to let you into the blast radius of my life. For both our sakes. I do not have my shit together. And I should have never asked you to speak to Sauer for me.”
“You don’t get to dump me because Cayden’s an asshole,” Aaron said. Of course, Zack could dump him for any reason he wanted, but this was such a useless terrible reason.
“It’s not Cayden. That’s just evidence of me not being ready to look after anyone’s wellbeing by my own.”
“I can handle myself.”
“You can. You also deserve every bit of consideration. Honestly, I need to spend some time with myself before I try to date anyone else. You’re lovely, and you deserve better than to be a rebound for someone who’s made some pretty questionable ethical choices.”
“So after the Olympics...” There were limits, Aaron knew, to what you could fight for, in skating and in life. There was no arguing with a judge’s scores. Or a federation’s decisions. But everything else—well, he hadn’t gotten this far in the sport by not trying. And he wasn’t going to give up now. “Whether I make the team or not. And once you have your shit together, then you and I can do this again. Right?” he asked.
Zack shook his head, and Aaron, feeling stunned, felt the last of his hope drain away. “No. I’m sorry Aaron. I really am. But me being your boyfriend while not actually dating you is even more irresponsible than what we’re doing now.”
“What if I don’t care?”
“I do, though.” Zack’s face still wore that mask of practiced coolness, but his voice was sad. “Very much.”
Aaron realized he had two choices: Stay and beg, or go. As much as he just wanted to be loved, Aaron had enough pride not to want to take the first option. Even if he had thought more entreaties might make an impression on Zack’s firmness. Which he definitely did not.
“Okay. I get it.” He put enough coldness in his voice to have the satisfaction—small as it was—of seeing Zack flinch a little. He stood, his chair scraping roughly on the floor as he did. “I’ll see you around, since you moved up here for some reason, I guess.”
Aaron had been broken up with enough times in enough places—bedrooms, living rooms, restaurants, and, on one particularly memorable occasion, halfway through the Trophée de France—that trudging out to his car alone and miserable was unpleasant, yes, but not unfamiliar. Breakups had a routine the way loss at a competition did. He’d always recovered relatively quickly from them, but, this time, something felt different.
He started his car, and his short program song blasted on the speakers as he did. He slammed the off button on the dashboard, and then sat there with only the sound of the engine for company. Well. Heartbreak had possessed a routine until he’d had the genius idea to skate to a song that was, in his mind at least, about fucking the guy who’d just broken up with him.
He let his head fall back against the headrest. “It’s gonna be a long season,” he said out loud to himself.
AARON ARRIVED HOME to find Charlotte sprawled out in the middle of the living room with one leg up on a chair, practicing her over-splits. In the background, a French soap opera blared from the television. Sometimes Aaron tried to piece together what was going on with his extremely limited French vocabulary; sometimes, he made up random plots in his head. This time, Aaron stopped directly in front of the TV, blocking her view. He was being a jerk, but right now, he was upset enough not to care.
“Eeeeeey,” Charlotte hissed. “I can’t see anything.”
“Congratulate me. I got dumped. Again.”
She fumbled behind her for her laptop and paused the stream. “Good,” she said.
“It’s not good!” Aaron said, failing to resist the urge to stamp a foot. This was not the sympathy he wanted right now.
“No. It is.” Charlotte was firm. “Now you’ll go to the Olympics, and he can feel foolish.”
“Is there any chance you can be sympathetic about this?” Aaron asked.
Charlotte pursed her lips and thought about it. “No. Not so much. Go whine to Huy.”
“Because complaining to my ex about my other ex—” Of course, Huy was Aaron’s friend more than he was an ex, but Aaron was going to be funny where he could.
“Is exactly your speed, no?”
Aaron peered down at her and her flexibility
