Chapter 8
Chapter eight
“Uncle Sergio! Wake up!” Henry shouts, kneeing Sergio in the nuts and jolting him awake.
“Why!” he cries out as he curls into a ball while Gus hisses and runs away from the scene of this repeated crime against Sergio’s favorite part of his anatomy.
“Because breakfast is ready,” Henry says slowly.
Sergio buries his head into his pillow. “Henry, I need you to go away right now.”
The sound of Sergio’s own crying isn’t enough to mask the sound of Henry wailing as he jumps off his bed and goes running down the hall.
“What’s with you today?” Adrien asks from the chairlift carrying them further and further upward.
Sergio doesn’t answer him. Instead, he lifts the safety bar, then leans forward and pitches himself off the lift, headfirst into the snowy mountain below, hoping this grants him yet another do-over.
“Uncle Sergio! Wake up!” Henry shouts, kneeing Sergio in the balls and jolting him awake.
Sergio, relieved his dramatic exit worked, but also still in pain from having his junk smashed in, whimpers as he curls into his now customary ball. Gus hisses as always and bolts out the door.
“Uncle Sergio, are you okay?” Henry asks, crawling on top of him.
“Yeah, buddy, I’m okay,” he says, pulling Henry in for a cuddle. He takes a deep breath, then sobs a little harder, hating himself for how he treated Henry yesterday. Even knowing Henry has no recollection of it isn’t enough to ease his guilt.
“You don’t seem like you’re okay.”
“I don’t?”
“No,” Henry says, shaking his head. “Are you sick?”
“Maybe.” Sick in the head.
“You should stay in bed and get some rest. That’s what Mommy makes me do when I don’t feel good.”
“You know what, Henry? That’s a good idea.” He lifts the covers, letting Henry go free. “Can you go tell your mom and dad that I’m sitting out today?”
“Okay!” Henry yells, then hops off Sergio’s bed and goes running out the door.
Sergio rolls back over, pulls the duvet close to his chin, and closes his eyes. A small part of him wonders if he’d find peace if they never opened again.
But they do open. And thankfully for Sergio, it’s to a quiet house, because people are not something he can deal with right now. Well, people outside of Jeremy, as he can still feel the way Jeremy’s lips felt against his two of his days ago. They were warm, soft, and ever so lovely.
He almost wants to laugh. Almost. He’d been so convinced that after he and Jeremy had shared that kiss, that this hell of a day was going to be over. He’d course-corrected. Where was his reward?
Hungry, he gets out of bed and heads downstairs to raid the kitchen, hoping some food in his belly will help him figure out a solution for his current predicament. Surely there has to be a way to break this loop.
Inside the refrigerator is a plate of pancakes that Holden must have left for him. He places it in the microwave. While the food spins around and around in circles as it warms, he contemplates the events of this day he keeps living.
It always starts the same, that he can’t change, no matter how much he and his balls wish he could.
But everything after that seems to be malleable.
He was able to fix things with Jeremy, but obviously, that wasn’t enough.
And looking back, he does have the brains to realize that the idea of one kiss breaking his loop was a naive notion.
Who does he think he is? A Disney princess?
He’s far from it in every way possible. So, obviously, he needs to do more, but what does that entail?
The timer goes off on the microwave, and he pulls out his food, then begins eating it standing at the counter. “Okay,” he says out loud around a mouthful of food to an empty room. “It’s not only Jeremy I need to fix things with. So what else is there?”
He furrows his brow as he chews, and his mind immediately goes back to Rose scolding him about the kiss at the New Year’s Eve party.
“Ahh, Rose,” he says, laughing for the first time today.
“I’m kind of starting to think she hates me.
” He takes another bite. “I wish Adrien were here. He could tell me how to fix that. She likes him … fuck, Adrien.”
He sighs, then rubs at his temple with his free hand.
“I gotta figure out a way to keep him from quitting.” The prospect of solving his dilemmas with both Rose and Adrien is something he’s designating for Sergio of another New Year's Day.
This version of today is already a wash in his eyes. He may as well give himself a break.
He takes the last bites of his food, then wipes the remnants of sticky syrup from his mouth with a nearby towel.
The feel of the towel on his lips makes him think of Jeremy again.
Not because the towel feels at all similar to the way Jeremy’s lips felt.
But more so because he doesn’t want the feeling of the slightly scratchy dish towel to replace the feeling of Jeremy’s plump and perfectly moisturized lips pressed against his own.
Sure, it’s too late for him to try to fix his life on this version of this day, but seeing as how it’s still well before noon, it’s not too late for him to steal another kiss from Jeremy.
Cleaning up his plate, he concocts a half-baked plan, one that doesn’t involve fixing anything, but does ensure he can feel Jeremy’s lips pressed against his once again and again and again and again, for however long it takes for him to fix everything wrong in his present life.
With a skip in his step, he heads back to his room, taking the stairs two at a time.
He grabs some clean underwear, realizing he hasn’t actually changed his since the night before, far too long ago.
He quickly undresses, then grimaces as he brings his briefs to his nose, expecting them to be completely rank given the circumstances.
To his relief, they are perfectly fine. Fresh even, as if he had only put them on the night before.
That’s a perk. No laundry while I’m stuck here.
Not that Sergio has ever concerned himself with laundry before.
Having his clothes cleaned by a service falls under the purview of Adrien’s job description.
Nevertheless, he takes the clean underwear and a towel with him to the bathroom across the hall and takes a steaming hot shower.
While in there, he indulges in a jerk off session that he normally would stretch out for ages, but given his current circumstances, finishes in an embarrassingly short few minutes.
Regardless, he does feel better having relieved some of the tension he’s been carrying around, repeated day in and repeated day out.
After his shower, he dries off and changes into a simple pair of jeans, a dark green, long-sleeved Henley that matches his eyes, and his black leather boots. He relishes in the comfort of being dressed in something other than his ski gear or his sharp New Year's Eve party suit.
By the time he’s finished with all of this, he hears Jeremy return home from lunch with Henry in tow.
Not too much longer, he thinks and goes back downstairs where he finds Gus eyeing him warily as he walks back and forth in front of the back door, as if, like his mom, he wants to create an obstacle between Sergio and Jeremy.
Sergio crouches down and reaches his hand out to stroke Gus between the ears. The cat seems to enjoy it when everyone else does it. No such luck. Gus hisses loudly and bears his claws, swiping at Sergio’s hand. He makes contact, drawing blood.
“Asshole,” Sergio says, standing up. He walks to the sink and rinses the wound.
It’s not too bad, only a scratch, but it still stings.
As he dries off his hand, compressing the scratch with a paper towel, he watches Gus walk away with his tail swishing high behind him.
He yells out to the cat before he disappears out of the room, “I’m not apologizing to you! ”
He checks his scratch again to make sure the bleeding has stopped. It has, but panic washes over him. What if he’s stuck in this loop because of that damn cat?
He shakes his head. “No. There’s no way.
” But just in case, he vows to maybe not call the cat an asshole again.
It’s worth a shot. But right now, he’s not going to let Gus impede his mission.
He has lips to kiss and no amount of ‘cattiness’ is going to stop him.
So instead of having a battle of wills with a feline, he patiently waits for the time to be right for him to head down to the barn and collect young Henry.
When the time finally does come, Sergio practically sprints through the trees to get to the barn.
He’s out of breath when he opens the door, but the sound of Wicked Game resounding through the speakers causes his world to slow back down.
It slows even more as he watches Jeremy glide across the pristine ice.
It occurs to Sergio that this ice appears like glass, preserved and untouched by the outside world.
Sure, there are the deep edge marks from Jeremy’s skating, and from Allison’s earlier today, but it’s still so smooth comparatively to other rinks he’s seen.
There’s something beautifully intimate about it.
No one else in the world knows this little piece of heaven exists outside of their little rag-tag group of family and friends.
No one else has ever set foot on this ice and marred its surface.
Suddenly, the vision of Jeremy skating seems to be that much more of a marvel.
Sergio is lucky. For all the millions who watched Jeremy skate when he was competing, Sergio gets to watch him now when it’s for nobody else but whoever Jeremy invites in.
Which reminds Sergio that he is, in fact, an uninvited interloper. So he better always remember that witnessing Jeremy in his element is a gift.
“I thought Henry was my only audience,” Jeremy says when he spots Sergio walking towards the half wall. He slows in his tracks, gracefully drops his arms to his sides, and comes to a stop a few feet away with flushed cheeks.
“Sorry,” Sergio says, hurrying over to grab Henry and pick him up off the ledge. “I should have announced myself.”
“It’s alright, I guess.” He shrugs. “I haven’t had an audience in four years. I was kind of hoping I’d never have to get used to it again.”
“I hardly count as an audience,” Sergio says. “Besides, I followed your request and didn’t bring my camera.”
Jeremy flashes him that genuine smile that causes Sergio’s stomach to flip. “I can’t believe you remember that.”
“Of course, I remember. And you were right to request it. It was a real treat to watch you skate without the barrier of the lens. I’m glad I don’t have it with me this time, either.”
“Even if you did,” Jeremy says, giving a soft shake to his head, “no one would be asking you for the prints.”
“That’s not true. You were made for the ice.”
Jeremy averts his gaze and braces himself against the half wall as he slides a blade guard on. “Maybe before,” he says with his chin tucked towards his chest. “But not so much anymore.”
With one arm wrapped around Henry, Sergio offers his free hand to Jeremy to help him step off the ice. “You’ll probably tell me you’re out there playing around—”
“I am.”
“I know. And that’s what makes you so beautiful to watch.” Sergio pauses as Jeremy places a guard on his other blade, giving him time to steady himself again and face Sergio directly so he can tell Jeremy the truth of what he sees. “You look free.”
Jeremy tilts his head, appearing to contemplate Sergio’s words. “I guess I am,” he says, holding Sergio’s gaze, while tugging at his left eye.
Together they share a familiar moment of silence, standing and staring at each other while Henry watches on. Sergio’s heart rate kicks up, along with his hope and anticipation.
He lets go of Jeremy’s hand, then carefully reaches to cup Jeremy’s cheek. He runs his thumb across his cheekbone, then leans in, placing the gentlest of kisses on Jeremy’s lips. As gentle as the kiss he placed there a few days ago.
He holds his breath, waiting for Jeremy’s response, hoping it’s the same as the time before. When Jeremy opens his mouth slightly and kisses him back, it takes all of his strength to once again not drop Henry and scream out in joy.
“You look free,” Sergio says, smiling as Jeremy tilts his head, looking at him in contemplation.
“I guess I am.”
“I guess I am.”
“I guess I am.”
“I guess I am.”