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IRL
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↳"I MISSED YOU."

When Lovette told Maeve and Levi about her decision to compete, she hadn't anticipated their reaction. The second the words left her mouth, their cheers filled the room, so loud she thought the neighbours might call to complain. Levi jumped up from the couch, nearly knocking over a lamp, while Maeve clapped her hands like a seal at feeding time.

Lovette couldn't help but laugh, the sound bubbling up in her chest despite the nerves still coiled tightly in her stomach. She hadn't felt this light in a long time.

Maeve eventually pulled her into a tight hug, her voice soft against Lovette's ear. "I am so proud of you," she whispered, her words laced with emotion that Lovette didn't dare unpack right now.

Later, when she broke the news to Mateo, his reaction was just as intense. The moment she said "competing," he closed the gap between them, wrapping her in a bear hug that knocked the air out of her lungs.

"You're serious? You're really doing it?" he asked, his dark eyes wide with a mixture of disbelief and something else she couldn't quite place.

She nodded. "Yeah. I am."

"Then I'll be there," he declared, his voice firm as though he'd already cleared his schedule.

Imani, of course, was the most dramatic. Over Facetime, her best friend gasped so loudly that Lovette flinched, nearly dropping her phone. Tears welled in Imani's eyes as she grinned at the screen.

"This is huge, Lovette! Oh my God, I'm so proud of you. Of course, I'll be there!"

It seemed like everyone she cared about was rallying around her, determined to show up for her big moment. It filled her chest with warmth, but the pressure of their expectations lingered too.

Now, with only two weeks until the competition, Lovette sat cross-legged on her bed, her laptop open to a blank document labelled Routine Notes. The cursor blinked at her, mocking her lack of progress. She had the concept and the song—I'm Tired by Labrinth and Zendaya, a gut-wrenching melody that mirrored the grief she wanted so desperately to shed. But the rest? Nothing.

Her costume remained a distant thought, a detail she hadn't even begun to tackle. And the rink? She hadn't set foot on the ice in days, the fear of failure keeping her from lacing up her skates.

A sharp knock on her bedroom door snapped her out of her thoughts. Maeve poked her head in, a sly smile tugging at her lips as she held up Lovette's worn skating bag.

"I have a surprise for you," Maeve said, her voice light and teasing.

Lovette arched an eyebrow. "What kind of surprise?"

Maeve grinned, her tone turning sing-song. "Come downstairs and you'll see."

Curiosity tugged Lovette off the bed, her feet padding softly against the carpet as she followed her sister to the foyer. Maeve stood to the side, her smile widening as a figure emerged from the direction of the kitchen.

Lovette blinked, certain she was seeing things. "Coach Maddie?"

"In the flesh!" Maddie's voice rang out, as sharp and commanding as ever. She spread her arms wide like she was greeting an old friend instead of an overwhelmed former student. "I heard my best skater was coming back to the rink. Of course, I had to help."

Lovette's mouth opened, but before she could form a coherent sentence, Maddie clapped her hands together with a sharp crack that made Maeve jump.

"You've got ten minutes to change," Maddie barked, her tone leaving no room for argument. "We're blocking and choreographing, which, judging by your face, you haven't done yet."

Lovette nodded sheepishly as Maddie raised an eyebrow, daring her to deny it. Without another word, she turned and bolted upstairs, pulling open her dresser drawers with a newfound urgency.

As she changed into her practice gear, her nerves twisted with something else—something she hadn't felt in a long time. Hope.

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The car ride was quiet, save for the haunting strains of I'm Tired spilling through the speakers. Maddie tapped her fingers against the steering wheel, her eyes fixed on the road, but Lovette could see the gears turning in her head.

"This is powerful," Maddie said, her voice firm, almost reverent. She glanced briefly at Lovette, her sharp eyes scanning her expression. "You've chosen well. This song—it's raw. Honest. Now we just have to make the choreography match it."

Lovette shifted in her seat, fiddling with the edge of her hoodie. She wasn't sure how Maddie managed to sound both reassuring and like she was about to drill her into the ground at the same time.

Maddie had always been like that. Lovette remembered those long hours on the ice, the way her coach could pinpoint the smallest imperfection and fix it, never raising her voice but always commanding attention. She was a master of precision, a sculptor shaping raw talent into brilliance. And Lovette had been her prized creation.

"You've got a gift, Lovette," Maddie said abruptly, as though reading her thoughts. Her tone was matter-of-fact, not the least bit flowery. "You always did. You don't waste gifts. You refine them. And that's what we're going to do."

Lovette swallowed hard, nodding. She'd forgotten how Maddie could strip a person bare with a simple statement, peeling away doubt and excuses until all that was left was the truth.

The moment they stepped into the rink, Maddie's demeanour shifted completely. Her expression sharpened, and her posture straightened as though she were a general surveying the battlefield.

"Stretch," Maddie commanded, her tone brooking no argument.

Lovette hurried to obey, lowering herself into a deep lunge and feeling the pull in her hamstrings. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Maddie circling her like a hawk.

"Point your toes," Maddie said sharply. Lovette adjusted immediately.

Maddie crouched down to Lovette's level, her gaze dissecting every line of her body. "Don't rush through this. Your body remembers everything you've ever taught it—good or bad. Give it the right cues."

Lovette nodded again, her muscles trembling as she held the position. She could feel Maddie's intensity like a physical weight, pressing her to do better, to be better.

Once Lovette finished stretching, Maddie was already holding out a clipboard. On it was a neatly organized plan: warm-ups, drills, choreography blocking, and a cool-down. Lovette couldn't help but marvel at how Maddie had created a detailed routine in their short time in the car.

"We're starting with edges," Maddie announced. "You need to feel the ice again before we even think about choreography."

Lovette stepped onto the rink, the chill biting at her cheeks. Maddie followed closely, a stopwatch in hand.

"Push off," Maddie ordered, her voice cutting cleanly through the air.

Lovette glided forward, her blades carving smooth arcs into the ice. Maddie's sharp whistle stopped her mid-stride.

"Your left edge is weak," Maddie called out. "Go again. Fix it."

Lovette gritted her teeth, pushing off again, this time focusing on the curve of her blade. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed this—Maddie's laser-focused critique, the structure of a routine, the feeling of being pushed to her limits.

"Good," Maddie said after a few more laps. The single word felt like a victory, and Lovette's chest swelled with a mixture of pride and determination.

Maddie was intense and unrelenting, but she always had the singular goal of pulling out the best in her students. And for the first time in a year, Lovette felt like maybe, just maybe, she could reach that potential again. She sat on the edge of the bench, clipboard in hand, watching Lovette skate through her warm-ups with the kind of focus that could make anyone squirm. After another set of edges, she finally nodded in approval.

"Basics are coming back," Maddie said, standing. "Now let's talk about the routine."

Lovette turned to face her, her chest still rising and falling from exertion. "Okay," she said cautiously.

"You've got a solid concept, strong music choice," Maddie began, pacing slightly. Then she stopped and fixed Lovette with a piercing look. "But you're missing the signature. The thing that will make them remember you."

Lovette tilted her head, wary. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying we add the quad axle."

The words landed like a stone in the pit of Lovette's stomach. She froze, her fingers tightening around the hem of her sweater. "No."

Maddie raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

"Because—" Lovette hesitated, grasping for words. "Because it's too risky. I'm not in shape for that and I haven't done it in a year."

"Which is why we practice it," Maddie said matter-of-factly. "Lovette, you've done it before. You can do it again. It's what separates you from everyone else."

"No," Lovette said firmly, shaking her head.

Maddie didn't press further, but her expression said everything: this wasn't over.

TWELVE DAYS UNTIL THE COMPETITION:

Maddie's relentless drills had left Lovette physically drained, her muscles sore in places she didn't even know could ache. Yet, despite the progress on the routine, everything felt wrong. Her edges were off, her spins wobbly, her jumps lacked the precision she once took for granted.

"Again," Maddie called, her voice cutting through the rink's cold air.

Lovette skated back to the starting position, taking a deep breath before attempting the triple lutz. She approached the jump, but at the last second, her confidence wavered. She stumbled on the landing, frustration bubbling up inside her.

"Off the ice," Maddie said abruptly.

"What?" Lovette blinked, startled.

"Get off the ice," Maddie repeated, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Reluctantly, Lovette skated to the boards, unlacing her skates as Maddie joined her.

"What's wrong?" Maddie asked, her voice softer but no less direct.

"Nothing," Lovette muttered, looking away.

Maddie snorted, crossing her arms. "This partnership only works if we're real and honest with each other. And that answer? It's bullshit."

Lovette's jaw tightened, but she didn't respond.

Maddie studied her for a moment, then stood. "Okay. Plant your feet on the ground."

"What?"

"Just do it," Maddie said, gesturing for Lovette to follow suit.

Lovette sighed and stood, her socks flat on the cold floor.

"Bend your knees," Maddie instructed. "Slight bend. Give yourself some bounce."

Lovette complied half-heartedly, bouncing slightly.

"Shake it out," Maddie said, demonstrating by shaking her arms and shoulders.

Lovette stared at her like she'd lost her mind.

Maddie raised an eyebrow. "I know you think this is stupid."

"It is stupid," Lovette muttered.

"That's fine. Be stupid," Maddie said, her voice light but insistent. "Relax." She exaggerated her bouncing, practically hopping in place.

Lovette couldn't help but crack a reluctant smile at the sight of her usually intense coach acting ridiculous. Slowly, she let herself lean into the motion, shaking her arms a little more freely.

After a few moments, Maddie stopped and looked Lovette square in the eye. "What are you scared about?"

"What?" Lovette frowned.

"You heard me," Maddie said, her voice steady. "What are you scared about?"

"Nothing," Lovette said quickly, crossing her arms.

Maddie didn't blink. "What are you scared about?"

"I said nothing."

The intensity grew with each repetition, Maddie's voice rising as Lovette's answers became more clipped. Finally, Maddie leaned in, her voice sharp and demanding. "What are you scared about?"

"I'm not scared!"

"What are you scared about!?" Maddie shouted, her voice echoing in the empty rink.

Lovette's composure snapped. "That I'm not good anymore!" she yelled, her voice breaking as the words spilled out.

The admission hung in the air, raw and vulnerable. Maddie's gaze softened, but she didn't say anything right away. Instead, she sat back down, giving Lovette space to breathe.

"Okay," Maddie said finally, her tone quiet but firm. "Now we're getting somewhere."

Lovette sank onto the bench, her head in her hands, tears threatening to spill over. Maddie didn't push further, didn't try to fill the silence. She just sat there, her presence steady and grounding.

After a long moment, Maddie spoke again. "You're good, Lovette. Better than good. But you don't have to be perfect right now. You just have to show up. And we'll figure out the rest together."

TEN DAYS UNTIL THE COMPETITION:

Lovette groaned as she flopped face-first onto her bed, her muscles aching from hours of drills and jumps that refused to stick. The faint scent of the rink and sweat clung to her, and she scrunched her nose. A shower was non-negotiable.

Dragging herself off the bed, she shuffled toward the bathroom, peeling off her skating clothes with every step. She let her mind wander, already planning to call Chris after this—if their schedules finally aligned. After changing into soft lounge clothes, she reached for the doorknob to her room, ready to collapse into bed. But the moment she opened the door, she froze.

Chris stood in the middle of her room, casually leaning against her desk like he belonged there.

"Hey," he said, a grin spreading across his face. "Surprise—"

The rest of his sentence blurred into white noise. For a split second, Lovette's brain couldn't compute what she was seeing. He wasn't supposed to be here—not for another week.

"Chris?" she breathed, her voice barely audible.

Before he could answer, she launched herself at him, arms flying around his neck. The force of her jump knocked him off balance, and the next thing she knew, they were tumbling onto her bed in a tangle of limbs and laughter.

"Lovie!" he exclaimed, half-laughing, half-surprised as they landed with a bounce.

She didn't care. Her face was buried in his shoulder, and she clung to him like he might disappear if she let go. The familiar warmth of him, the faint scent of his cologne—everything about him was real and here and now.

"You're here?" she whispered, pulling back just enough to look at him, her eyes wide and shining.

"I'm here," Chris said softly, his cheeks pink, his grin shy but steady.

Lovette didn't think. She leaned in, pressing her lips to his, the kiss brimming with relief and joy and all the emotions she'd bottled up in his absence.

When she pulled back, his face was as red as she'd ever seen it, but he was smiling too.

"I missed you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I missed you too," Chris replied, his hand finding hers, squeezing gently.

Lovette couldn't help but laugh softly, a sound filled with unrestrained happiness. She was still worried about everything—her routine, the competition, her future—but right now, Chris was here. That was what mattered most.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:
is it crazy that i have like 3 more chris and matt fics planned (2 for chris, 1 for matt)

but I'm gonna finish this one before i publish those ones

i hope u enjoyed

until next time <3!