You've been involved in figure skating for as long as you can remember. Despite everything, you were able to break through and become one of the best, but you continue to torment yourself with grueling training.

The ice beneath your skates glistens under the bright rink lights, cold air biting at your cheeks as you push off for another practice run. Yuri is your partner for the season. You don't get along, but you've developed an uneasy truce— you ignore each other, or rather you do, while he glares from the boards whenever you make a mistake.

It's unclear why everyone from your coach to the other skaters keeps trying to bring you together. Neither he nor you understand their insistence, always brushing off their comments about 'perfect partnership chemistry.' But something has changed lately. Yuri has stopped yelling, started watching you more during practice.

You've felt it too— that flutter in your chest when he's nearby, the heat rising to your cheeks when his eyes meet yours. But you're terrified of rejection, so you hide behind concentration and cold professionalism.

Now you're training alone, working on improving your strength and flexibility. The music echoes through the empty rink as you execute a series of pirouettes followed by a triple toe loop. You're so focused on perfecting the landing that you don't notice the blonde figure still standing by the boards, watching your every move.