 |
[ This blog post is viewable to friends only ]
|
|
|
05/30/2024 02:21 PM
|
Midnight Musings
The digital alarm clock's harsh red numbers blinked mockingly as Hunter stared at them through bleary eyes: 2:37 AM. Beside him, Ophelia let out a soft snuffling noise and shifted positions, burrowing deeper beneath the mound of blankets cocooning them both in blessed warmth. Away from the chill December night air seeping through the old dorm's leaky window frames. Even in the shadowy dimness of their shoebox apartment, Hunter couldn't help but be transfixed by the way Ophelia's features seemed to almost glow, backlit by those faint crimson numerals. The normally bright constellations of freckles dusting the bridge of her nose and cheekbones were smudged into a burnt sienna palette in this half-light. Loose tendrils of chestnut hair fanned out in a haphazard halo across the pillowcase. In that bleary, exhausted state of half-wakefulness clinging to Hunter's consciousness, he marveled at just how damn beautiful his girlfriend - no, his partner, his other half, his everything - could manage to be even like this. Wrapped up in bunny-printed pajamas and drooling slightly, mouth-agape in the throes of a deep sleep. God, he was so bloody lucky to be the one who got to share this view. This private, perfect, peaceful vision of the woman who had turned his entire world upside down the moment she had first stepped onto that scuffed-up frozen pond back in elementary school all those years ago. Before Hunter could reign himself in, those swirling thoughts of adoration started escaping their confines as half-mumbled verbal musings. "Hey Ophs...you awake?" A noncommittal hum answered him, her shapely back shifting beneath the quilted blankets. "Do you ever wonder...I mean, just think about if things had been different for us?" Hunter continued in a hushed ramble, his voice cracking slightly from fatigue and the weight of his meandering theories. "Like, if we'd grown up in some alternate world instead of as skating partners? Do you think we'd still...you know, be a couple? Wind up together no matter what?" A sleepy tousle of red hair appeared from the fabric nest as Ophelia turned to regard him with one bleary emerald eye cracked open, brow furrowed in a mixture of confusion and exasperation. "Are you having those dumb midnight existential asthmatic thoughts again?" she groaned, clearly only half-registering his rambling queries through her haze of drowsiness. Hunter shrugged sheepishly, draping one thick arm around her narrow waist and tugging her plush form flush against his larger physique. The soft scents of lavender shampoo and crisp, clean linen washed over him as he nuzzled the crown of her head reverently. "Maybe..." he admitted, voice pitched lower against the delicate whorl of her ear. "Just can't seem to make my brain shut off at night sometimes, you know?" Ophelia let out a contented sigh as she allowed herself to be enfolded into the warm cocoon of his embrace, her eyelids already fluttering closed once more. "Well, keep those racing thoughts away from my end of things, West," she purred in a drowsy murmur. "Let me at least get some damn sleep." Hunter hummed an affirmative reply, nosing aside a few loose tresses so he could brush a feather-light kiss against her temple. He felt the tension seep out of his girlfriend's slender frame at the tender gesture as Ophelia sagged fully into his sinewy arms. For a few tranquil moments, the only sounds filling their shoebox apartment were the steady in-out cadences of their mingled breathing patterns, slipping in seamless sync with one another. One heartbeat melding effortlessly into the next. As it had since the first time they cautiously intertwined their gangly teenage limbs all those years ago. Hunter traced abstract, soothing patterns along the sliver of exposed skin peeking from between Ophelia's tank top and pajama bottoms. Allowing the hushed peace surrounding them to settle into his very marrow. Until... "You don't think we'd already be married by now?" he pondered aloud before he could censor his wandering thoughts. "With like...five kids at least? Or maybe an entire hockey team's worth of little ankle-biters running around, knowing us?" Ophelia groaned, cracking one emerald eye open again to shoot her boyfriend an exaggerated glower from the depths of her blanket nest. "For the sake of avoiding the very real possibility of smothering you with a pillow right now?" She settled the full force of her drowsy glare on the sheepish Hunter, pursing her lips in displeasure. "Go. To. Bed." Hunter couldn't help the low chuckle rumbling up unbidden from his broad chest as Ophelia swatted him half-heartedly. His smile only widened further as he pressed another teasing peck to the tip of her adorably upturned nose, eliciting a fresh disgruntled grumble. "Roger that, babe. Going to sleep now, just like you asked." As Ophelia harrumphed and shifted to get more comfortable against the solid wall of Hunter's torso, one last drowsy murmur reached his ears. "If we did have five kids, I'm telling you right now that potty training duty is ALL on you, pal." Hunter simply hummed a wordless note of wry acknowledgment, resisting the urge to rumple her tangled hair in playful retribution. He knew better than to push his luck tonight. So instead, Hunter cradled Ophelia tighter and welcomed the waves of exhaustion already dragging him back under into peaceful slumber, perfectly content to pick up their silly late-night musing at a later date. Perhaps in some future reality where five squirming little bundles did indeed call them Mom and Dad, and these quiet, intimate moments would ultimately seem like some long lost fever dream.
|
|
|
05/30/2024 01:50 PM
|
Sisterly Insight
"I'm tellin' you, Lor, it's not like that with me and Ophelia." Hunter flopped back onto his bed with a huff, glaring up at the ceiling as if it had personally offended him. His older sister simply arched an immaculate eyebrow, settling herself onto the room's solitary desk chair. "You're protesting an awful lot for someone who claims there's nothing to actually protest about," Loretta needled, a teasing lilt to her voice. "Face it, little bro - you've got it bad for your skating partner. And from what I've seen, the feeling's pretty darn mutual." A dusky blush crept along the tips of Hunter's ears at her insinuation, confirming Loretta's suspicions even as he shook his head vehemently. "We're just friends, okay? Best friends. Partners on the ice and that's it." He scrubbed a hand over his face, reluctantly meeting her mirthful gaze. "Sure, maybe I think about...you know, other stuff sometimes when it comes to her. But who wouldn't? Ophelia's beautiful, talented, an incredible person inside and out. We click together like nobody else can." Hunter's expression took on a distant sort of wistfulness as he trailed off. But he blinked it away rapidly, reverting to his previously defensive posture. "Doesn't mean I'm going to go ruin the most important relationship in my life just to indulge those dumb passing thoughts, though. She means too much to me for that." Loretta regarded her brother shrewdly for a long moment, seeming to weigh her response carefully. When she spoke again, her tone was softer but still carrying an undercurrent of fond exasperation. "You know, there's absolutely nothing wrong with having...shall we say, more intimate feelings towards someone you clearly care for so deeply. Contrary to what you meatheaded jocks seem to think, it's possible to want both emotional and physical intimacy with a person." At Hunter's visible squirming discomfort, she raised a calming hand to halt his protests. "Hey, I'm not saying you need to rush out and basically propose to the poor girl or anything, OK? Just..." Loretta paused, trying to find the right phrasing. "Don't be so quick to completely shut down one aspect in favor of maintaining the other, you know? Especially at your ages." Hunter's brow furrowed quizzically. "What do you mean?" "I mean," Loretta clarified with a warm smile. "Would you want to tuck Ophelia in at night, maybe give her a soft kiss on the forehead as she's drifting off? Or wake up with her in your arms some lazy morning, peppering her face with gentle little kisses just because you can?" The question seemingly gave Hunter pause, fresh tinges of crimson coloring his cheeks as he clearly envisioned the scenes she described. But his expression remained uncertain, almost...wistful. "Well? Would those sorts of tender, romantic moments spent with your closest friend appall you so much?" Loretta pressed lightly. "Or would you cherish each one, if she felt the same way?" After a lengthy pause, Hunter finally exhaled a deep, shuddering breath - some of the built-up tension easing from his broad shoulders. "You know..." he began slowly, choosing his words with great care. "If Ophelia wanted that...to share that side of ourselves too...I don't think I would ever get tired of holding her while she slept. Of finding new constellations to map out in those radiant little freckles she always tries to hide from everyone." The soft smile playing across Hunter's lips held a sort of reverence, like he was describing something profoundly sacred rather than reciprocated intimacy. His eyes soon refocused on his sister, open and searching. "But how could I even know if she thinks of me like that? Ophelia means everything to me, Lor. If I screw up what we already have going for some stupid high school crush, I'll never forgive myself." Loretta held his stare for a long beat, her expression incomprehensibly warm and tinged with what seemed like pity. When she finally replied, her words were measured and carefully chosen. "Maybe don't completely rule out the possibility, is all I'm saying. Especially before you've taken the time to really look." She rose fluidly to her feet then, smoothing out her skirt as she made her way towards the door. "Who knows? You two kids just might turn out to be as epically, storybook-levels of made for each other as it already seems to an outside observer." With a last inscrutable smile tossed over her shoulder, Loretta slipped out of Hunter's room - leaving her younger brother alone to muddle over the unexpected turn their conversation had taken.
|
|
|
05/29/2024 07:03 PM
|
Sibling Respite
The muffled thwacks of fists pounding into well-worn leather echoed through the dimly lit basement gym. Sweat trickled down Hunter's bare back as he drove blow after punishing blow into the hanging heavy bag, grunting from the exertion. This had become his nightly ritual of late - working himself into a lather through whatever physical outlet presented itself. An attempt to expel the ever-simmering darker impulses lurking within before they could fully detonate. So consumed by the rhythmic violence, Hunter didn't even register the overhead lights flicking on until a familiar voice cut through the silence. "Jeez, bro. You keep wailing on that thing like it owes you money, pretty soon we'll need to invest in a new one." Hunter faltered mid-combination, chest heaving as he turned to face the intruder with narrowed eyes. His expression softened only slightly upon recognizing the figure leaning against the doorframe. "Lorey. Didn't hear you come in..." He swiped at the sheen of perspiration coating his brow with one taped hand. "Thought you had that work thing tonight?" His older sister shrugged one slim shoulder, pushing off from the frame to drift further into the makeshift gym. Even in her stylish pantsuit, Loretta managed to make the surroundings seem smaller by her presence alone. "Conference call got moved. I figured I'd swing by, see if my little brother wanted some company for once." Her lips quirked in a teasing smile as she nodded towards the punching bag. "Unless this particular opponent is providing more entertaining conversation than I could?" Hunter barked out a mirthless chuckle, shaking his head as he resumed battering the hapless heavy bag with a series of brutal combos. "Well, it's not much for memorable repartee. But at least this loudmouth knows to shut up and take his lickings without any backtalk." The strained attempt at sibling banter fell flat between them, both immediately regretting having given it voice at all. An uncomfortable silence descended, broken only by the dull thudding of Hunter's gloved fists kneading into unyielding leather. Eventually, Loretta sidled up to the mounted bag's opposite side, tilting her head appraisingly at her brother's handiwork. "You want to talk about it?" she asked in a gentler tone, all teasing pretense dropped. "Whatever it is that's got those demons rattling their cages so loud you're down here at..." She craned her neck to check her watch. "2AM on a Wednesday wailing on this poor defenseless thing?" Hunter's jaw muscle twitched, but he maintained his laser-focused state of percussive violence, refusing to meet Loretta's concerned gaze. "Not really, no." Each blunt word was punctuated by another thudding impact that caused the heavy bag to shudder on its chain. "Kinda the whole point of all this, Lor. Pound all that crap into submission without having to dredge it back up with talking." He could practically feel his sister's incredulous stare burning into the side of his skull. But Hunter refused to relent, refused to grant her entry into the storm front currently roiling within. Not out of any animosity for Loretta - she'd been one of the only tethers preventing him from spinning off into the ether entirely after...after everything went to hell. No, Hunter's reticence was more out of weary resignation, and a gut-deep fear of fracturing the fragile stasis Loretta's support had allowed him to maintain. So he poured every ounce of swirling anguish into demolishing his silent, unyielding foe. Each stinging blow chipping away at his internal agonies, if only for a few fleeting moments of impact. The tense quiet between them stretched onward, Hunter's ragged breathing and the cadence of gloves pummeling cowhide the only soundtrack. Until eventually, Loretta let out a soft, sad sigh of resignation. "You're killing yourself with this strong and silent routine, you know that right?" she murmured, leaning back against the nearest wall with her arms crossed. "Pretty soon there won't be anything left of you except that towering brick wall you keep insisting on rebuilding over and over." In his peripherals, Hunter watched Loretta's caustic stare morph into one of resigned acceptance as she studied his contorted features. As if realizing she had lost this particular battle before it even began. "Well, when you've finally beaten yourself stupid against whatever demon is riding you tonight, I'll be upstairs." Pushing off from the wall, she began heading back towards the doorway, steps heavy with disappointment. "Don't be a stranger if you start feeling human again and want to join the rest of us, Hunter." As her receding footsteps faded from earshot, Hunter felt something inside crumple and splinter - as if one of his ricocheting fists had slipped through his defenses to cave in his sternum. He staggered upright, chest heaving with exertion and eyes squeezed tightly shut against a sudden upwelling of bitterness. Before his mind could fully process the compulsion, Hunter had already pivoted and launched his boxing glove directly into the swaying heavy bag with a guttural roar of fury. The thick hide split apart instantly on impact, canvas restraints parting as an eruption of sand and stuffing splattered outwards like a light eruption. For a beat, Hunter simply froze amid the settling debris cloud and regarded the scene of destruction with hollow detachment. Then he slumped backwards until his spine thudded against the concrete wall behind him, sliding downwards to sit cradling his throbbing hand in stunned silence. And that's where Loretta found him nearly an hour later - slouched against the wall with his head tilted back in exhausted repose, tear tracks visible on his cheeks even through the semi-gloom.
|
|
|
05/27/2024 11:30 PM
|
Punishment and Perfection
Blah, blah. Self loathing. Blah, blah. Hunter's a f***ing perfectionist. CW: Weed, forms of self harm / bruising / self-hatred, etc. Enjoy.
The harsh screech of metal blades carving into the ice reverberated through the empty arena like a battle cry. Hunter propelled himself across the gleaming surface with powerful strides, his jaw clenched in intense determination.
He was alone tonight - just the way he preferred it lately. No prying eyes, no distractions, nothing to disrupt Hunter from confronting his deepest demons through the only way he knew how: pouring every ounce of raw emotion into his skating. This ritual had become his sole obsession over the past several months, an attempt to absolve himself through sheer physical punishment and perfection of his craft. If he skated hard enough, long enough, honing every jump and spin into absolute precision, maybe - just maybe - he could outrun the guilt steadily devouring him from the inside. Hunter transitioned into his first jump sequence, launching himself into the air with a ferocious athleticism. His body arched and twisted in a dazzling spiral - quad lutz, triple axel, quad toe loop. Landed in textbook form, not even a wobble on the landings. A small, grim smile crept across his sweat-slicked face at sticking the immensely difficult combination. But it wasn't enough. It would never be enough. So he fed off that caged anguish bubbling within him, channeling those bruised emotions directly into his movements. The rage and self-loathing over what he had sacrificed with a single, careless mistake. The all-consuming shame of failing his closest friend when she needed him most. And the desperate, ravenous hunger to feel that all-consuming fire of competition again - to be the best no matter what it cost him. Because at his pinnacle, before the accident, Hunter had been utterly sublime. An ethereal force of physicality and artistic prowess on the ice, destined for the sort of immortal greatness reserved only for the sport's legends. He and Ophelia had been unstoppable, their incandescent partnership unlike anything the figure skating world had ever seen. Until Hunter's arrogance and obsession with perfection destroyed it all in one stupidly reckless instant. He shuddered at the memory of Ophelia's fragile body crumpled on that unforgiving ice, the way her anguished screams mingled with the clatter of breaking bones still replaying in Hunter's skull on an endless, torturous loop. A white-hot flash of anger knifed through him at his role in ripping away her dreams - perhaps their last opportunity at achieving immortality together on the biggest stage. The fury propelled him into a blistering step sequence, Hunter practically snarling through each intricate footwork pattern like a caged animal. Every slashing shoulder movement, dramatic twisting of his spine and carved edge radiated his inner turmoil for the world to witness, even if no other eyes were currently taking it in. This rink had become his own personal hell to marathon through, night after night. Pushing past physical limitations until his body was drenched in sweat and threatening to give out. The more he depleted himself, the better. Hunter deserved that rawness consuming every muscle, that beautiful brutality of skating greatness that risked destruction with any mistimed lapse in focus. In a sense, he was punishing himself the only way he could comprehend. Hunter refused to let any stint tonight feel unearned, because that's what had led him to those fateful moments where self-indulgent complacency made him cost that which mattered most. No, he would fight for every second of time on this ice, just as he should have been fighting alongside Ophelia with every fiber of their beings. So he kept skating through the ambient silence, interrupted only by the shredding of his blades and his own ragged breathing echoing back at him. Hunched over at one point in exhaustion, sweat cascading down Hunter's body. He blinked moisture from his eyes - from exertion or silent tears, even he couldn't tell anymore. Whichever they were, Hunter refused to yield, refused to acknowledge any weakness. When he finally straightened back upright, it was with the hollow, dead-eyed stare of somebody shutting down emotionally. Time for his final revolutions. Hunter tore across the ice, building up his speed and rotation for an audacious quad axel. A jump only the sport's ultra-elite dared even attempt, with the insane amount of spins required courting near-guaranteed disaster. But Hunter refused to settle for any less than impossibility tonight. As he coiled into the air, contorting his body with such serrated power and aggression, everything seemed to fall away in that fleeting eternity of flight. Just him, the cold stillness, and the void of solitude he had created around himself. A prison of his own making. But like all things, gravity inevitably reclaimed Hunter's mortal form, dragging him back down hard onto that unforgiving sheet of ice. Metal crunched against the surface with a violent shudder as Hunter tumbled and crashed through the final rotations - two, three, four...a wild lurch of his shoulder sending fresh shocks of pain radiating outward. Just as he somehow managed to deck the landing on one set of blades, an ankle twisted sickeningly beneath him on the other. He skidded to a tangled, messy halt and simply laid there on the ice, sucking in ragged gulps of air to combat the lava coursing through his body. Hunter stared up into the dimly lit rafters unblinkingly, giving no hint of being fazed by his brutal wipeout whatsoever. Just remaining numb and motionless like a discarded ragdoll. Only when his limbs started trembling uncontrollably from the sustained brutality did Hunter finally accept defeat for the evening. With a pained grunt, he dragged his battered body upright and limped off the ice, making sure to grab the small plastic baggie stashed in his gear bag on the way. Once inside the locker room, Hunter peeled off his sweat-soaked clothes, shivering slightly as the cool air washed over his overheated frame. A grimace twisted his features as his fingers traced the fresh scrapes and bruises already mottling his skin - reminders of his relentless pursuit of perfection. In the back of his foggy mind, Hunter knew he should probably seek medical attention for what was assuredly a sprained ankle or worse. But that was a voice drowned out by different needs, and a simpler kind of pain management. With his body on that precarious edge between numbness and agony, Hunter twisted off the plastic baggie to reveal his chosen remedy: a stash of premium weed and a lighter. Flicking the flame to life, he ignited the joint and eagerly suckled in that first precious lungful of smoke like a man half-drowned finally reaching air. The harsh vapors singed his throat in deliciously familiar fashion, already beginning to spread tendrils of psychoactive tranquility outward from Hunter's core. His eyes slid shut as he savored the initial lurching tide of delirious calm slowly unspooling his abused nerve endings. Some distant part of Hunter knew he was far past self-medicating at this point, and well into straight self-destruction. To keep chasing the same vicious cycles of physically punishing himself on the ice, only to smoke, drink, and numb it all away after. It was an insulated bubble of isolated torment that afforded neither growth nor redemption. But as Hunter took another greedy toke, his lungs savoring the sticky smoke unfurling within, he simply didn't give a f*** anymore. Not about his health, his dwindling self-worth, or even attempting to rebuild the shattered pieces of his former life. All those concerns were just static in the void clouding Hunter's mind as he surrendered fully to the lurid pull of intoxicated oblivion. The harsh realities would keep until morning, until he was forced to drag his wrecked body back onto the ice to start the whole cycle anew. For now, blissful nothing beckoned with sweet, seductive release to dull the gnawing ache inside. So Hunter inhaled deeply and fully embraced its stifling, suffocating caress.
|
|
|
05/26/2024 11:01 PM
|
Five + One.
Here are five times Hunter almost texted Ophelia: - It was late one night as Hunter nursed a glass of whiskey, memories of Ophelia's smile and infectious laugh replaying in his mind. His thumb hovered over her contact, ready to confess how much he missed her. But he stopped himself, convincing his heart it was for the best to let her go.
- After an intense sparring session at the gym, Hunter caught his reflection in the mirror - sweaty, muscles rippling. He smirked, picturing Ophelia's reaction if he sent her a flirty selfie with "Missing this?" as the caption. His fingers twitched towards his phone before hesitation kicked in.
- Ophelia's favorite band was playing in town, and for a split second, Hunter's fingers began typing out "Two tickets for old time's sake?" He could already envision her delighted smile. But then reality hit - they were over, and opening that door again risked further heartbreak.
- It was a crisp autumn evening when Hunter walked past the ice cream shop where he'd taken Ophelia on some of their first dates. Unbidden, his phone appeared in his palm as he started to joke "Feeling nostalgic for those double-scoop sugar highs..." He stopped, throat tightening.
- Hunter's finger lingered over Ophelia's contact info as he composed a message for the hundredth time: "I'm sorry. For everything." Regrets swirled in his mind, but he couldn't bring himself to hit send and risk reopening old wounds.
The One Time: It was a quiet Tuesday evening when Hunter's phone lit up with Ophelia's name and picture. His breath caught in his throat as he fumbled to answer the FaceTime call with shaking hands. When her soft smile filled the screen, all his practiced speeches escaped him. "H...hey," was all he could manage as his heart thundered in his chest. Ophelia simply gazed at him for a loaded moment. "I miss you, Hunter," she finally murmured, voicing the words he could never quite say himself. And just like that, the door was open once more.
|
|
|
05/26/2024 11:01 PM
|
Rock Bottom Reckoning
The amber liquid burned Hunter's throat as he drained another glass, seeking that familiar solace at the bottom of every bottle. The dingy bar blurred around him, a safe haven to escape the endless cycle spinning through his mind - memories of that fateful day constantly on rewind, replaying each agonizing second when a flawless routine shattered into shards of regret. Stumbling out into the harsh chill of the night air, reality slapped him once again - he'd done it again, let the guilt and shame fester until the only relief was surrendering to the oblivion of drunken numbness. Each bender chipped away another piece of the man he used to be, the fearless artist who danced across the ice with effortless passion and joy. But tonight was different. Ophelia's tear-stained face flooded his memory, her trembling voice crackling like the dying embers he felt mirrored in his soul, "I can't keep watching you self-destruct like this, Hunter. You're killing yourself...and us in the process. Please, you have to get help...for both of us." Her raw, achingly vulnerable pleas lodged in his chest like shrapnel tearing through skin. For years, he'd desperately clung to the idea that she could never see the true depths he'd plunged - that by some miracle her love would remain untainted by his spiral. But now, staring at the shattered reflection in a puddle, Hunter understood with searing clarity that his reckless alcoholism wasn't just poisoning his own life - it was slowly strangling the last precious threads keeping their bond alive after so many years of harbored trauma, regret, and unspoken feelings frozen in time. He crumpled to his knees on the unforgiving pavement, gasping for air as if the weight of a thousand lives lost pressed down on his fragile frame. Ophelia's love, her gentleness, her spirit - it had been his sole constant liferaft in the turbulent sea of self-loathing and doubt constantly battering his psyche. And now, the gutting truth revealed itself - he was staring into the deep abyss of losing her forever to the all-consuming darkness rapidly unraveling the semblance of life he still clung to. This was his reckoning, his cosmic wake-up call forcing him to confront the demons that had mercilessly tormented him for far too long. Tonight, as the frigid air burned his lungs, a sobering flicker of hope revealed itself - a chance to claw his way back from this brink, to rediscover the unbreakable strength and perseverance that had once bonded their souls so seamlessly for a decade across the ice. He would honor their journey, their dreams, their connection by beating this demon gnawing at his existence...or be utterly consumed by it. There would be no more running, no more numbing the pain with a temporary antidote that only poisoned him further. It was time to fight, to reclaim the fearless fire that had been his lifeblood, the spark that had set their passionate routines ablaze in front of arenas full of awestruck fans. Summoning every ounce of fortitude still lingering in his shattered spirit, Hunter vowed to purge the inner self-loathing toxin before it bled him dry for good. He would face down each waking nightmare, endure every anguished memory, embrace the overwhelming tides of guilt - and emerge from the tempest reborn and whole once more. If not for himself, he would do it for her: the other half of his soul, now standing on the other side of the yawning chasm, hand outstretched with love and belief in the man he could still be.
|
|
|
05/26/2024 11:01 PM
|
Last to know
It was a quiet evening at the West household. Hunter had just gotten home from another grueling day of practice with Ophelia. As he trudged into the living room, still catching his breath, his parents looked up from their respective books. "Hey champ, how'd it go today?" his dad Michael asked, offering a warm smile. Hunter opened his mouth to respond, but then paused, a new realization seeming to dawn across his features. He furrowed his brow pensively as he replayed a particular interaction between him and Ophelia from earlier. The way her hair fell across her face as they nailed that final spin...how her laugh made his heart flutter...the reassuring squeeze of her hand in his as they took their bows. "You know..." Hunter began slowly, choosing his words carefully. "Ophelia and I have been partners for what, over a decade now? Since we were just kids messing around at the local rink." His mom Evelyn nodded, sharing a knowing glance with Michael. "That's right, dear. You two have grown up together on that ice, chasing your dreams side-by-side." "Right. And obviously our connection and chemistry has always been...special, you know?" Hunter continued, pointedly avoiding his parents' amused expressions. "She's my best friend. The person who knows me better than anyone in this world." He exhaled heavily, mentally working up the nerve to finally voice the thought that had been swirling more and more frequently. "What I'm trying to say is...I think..." Hunter faltered momentarily before barreling forward with the confession. "I think I might be in love with Ophelia." The words hung in the air for a beat before his parents began chuckling in unison. Hunter's brow furrowed in confusion and slight indignation at their reaction. "What? What's so funny?" he asked defensively. Evelyn shook her head with a warm smile. "Oh honey, we're not laughing at you. It's just..." She glanced at Michael, who was still wheezing with laughter, before finishing her thought. "Congratulations on being the last one to finally realize what everyone else has seen for years, sweetie."
|
|
|
05/26/2024 10:58 PM
|
The Shattered Legacy.
Another night, another bottle rapidly drained in a futile attempt to extinguish the eternal bonfire of shame and regret searing through Hunter’s soul. If he squeezed his eyes shut tightly enough, the room would spin and blur around him, transporting him back to happier times. He could practically hear the phantom roars of adoring crowds cheering their names, feel the electrifying rush of nailing their signature throw triple axel on hallowed ice. The high of pushing their bodies to the extremes and being universally revered as one of the greatest pairs teams of all time used to be Hunter’s unquenchable drug. Until that fateful night when Ophelia’s entire world shattered like the fragile ice beneath her blades. The sickening snap of her leg fracturing replayed on a searing loop in Hunter’s memory, no amount of whiskey potent enough to blot it out completely. All those years of tireless training and sacrifice, building an unbreakable bond and transcendent partnership - crushed in a single obliterating moment. The unrelenting guilt of being physically unscathed while his other half’s dreams imploded around them consumed Hunter. A mirthless, guttural chuckle emerged from the deepest recesses of his whiskey-ravaged throat as Hunter’s bloodshot eyes bored into his own disheveled, haunted reflection. Who was this pathetic, self-destructive shell of a man mocking him from the cracked mirror? Definitely not the fearless, unstoppable athlete who once owned the world alongside his vital other half. Down another burning gulp to blot out the memory…only for it to be immediately replaced by the cataclysmic sense of abject failure encircling him like a viscous, inescapable tar pit. All those years of sacrifice, of forsaking a normal childhood and teenage experiences, of pouring his entire existence into a craft - all obliterated in a single catastrophic moment. Staring down at the almost-empty bottle cradled in his trembling hands, Hunter felt a wave of revulsion roil through him. The proud, confident young dynamo who used to own the world from center ice was now just a hollow shadow mainlining misery and self-pity through the bottom of a glass. How had he plunged from the dizzying heights of being the best in the world at his art to this pathetic, unrecognizable nadir? The self-loathing chewed away at Hunter’s insides with increasing fervor until it felt like he might actually crack apart at the seams. The thought of his former skating partner’s name twisted the serrated dagger of shame and regret deeper into Hunter’s guts. Sweet, nurturing Ophelia had been the driving force keeping him upright after her career-ending accident. Her resilience and refusal to let the tragedy utterly derail them both was breathtaking. Hunter had been in hopeless awe of her strength even as he crumbled under the weight of crippling survivors’ guilt. But he’d predictably driven Ophelia away with his perpetual spiral of self-destruction and weakness, letting her down like he disappointed everyone who ever believed in their meteoric talents. Hunter could still see the crushed look in her warm, caring eyes the night she finally realized he couldn’t be the supportive partner she needed in return. She deserved so much better than his pitiful shell. The waves of self-loathing left Hunter desperately gasping for air, as if the weight of his cowardice and failures were physically suffocating him. So he raised the bottle to his lips and kept drinking - the bitter balm his only fleeting refuge from the oppressive crush of having to face the consequences of abandoning the light of his life in her darkest hours. If only he could go numb enough to block out the crushing magnification of how far he’d plummeted from the exalted throne of his former greatness. Then maybe Hunter could simply cease to exist altogether - the fate he’d convinced himself he deserved after disgracing his sport and surrendering to the demons slowly devouring him from the inside out.
|
|
|
[ This blog post is viewable to friends only ]
|
|
Back to Posts
|