Chapter 25 #3
I nodded, and we moved farther down the corridor, away from most of the foot traffic. The sounds of the arena softened there until only distant music and the scrape of blades filtered through concrete walls.
Marek stopped first, and for a few seconds, he simply looked at me.
I stared at him. “Well?”
He laughed, shaking his head. “You really did it.”
I frowned. “Did what?”
“Made them notice.”
Cold settled over me, but I kept my expression neutral. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t insult me.” The words came out flat. “I’ve watched you all week.”
The sharp, bitter edge in his voice nailed me to the spot.
Marek dragged a hand through his hair. “You stopped hiding it. With Foster.”
My heart hammered. “We are friends.”
His laugh this time carried no trace of amusement. “Right.” Then his gaze sharpened. “You know what the funniest part is? You actually look happy.”
I stared at him. I had not realized anyone else could see that.
Marek looked away, his jaw tightening. “I kept thinking maybe I imagined it at first. But then after the medals…” He exhaled sharply. “Kvrat, Luka. You look at him as if the rest of us are not even there.”
My face grew hot. “I do not—”
“You do.” His eyes snapped back to mine. “And the problem is?” His lips twisted into a bitter smile. “People notice things like that.”
The federation meeting echoed through my mind in a heartbeat.
Optics are delicate.
I forced my voice steady. “If you came here to lecture me—”
“I came here because you’re being reckless.”
That startled me enough that I actually blinked.
Marek laughed again, the sound roughened by exhaustion. “You think this is about morality?” He shook his head. “Bo?e, you really do not understand what you look like from the outside right now.”
A chill inched slowly down my spine.
He stepped closer, lowering his voice even though no one was near enough to overhear. “You think they will not destroy you if this becomes real publicly?”
The question hit like a physical blow.
“They have already noticed.” His voice was low and raw. “The media noticed. The federation noticed.” His expression tightened. “You know what happens next.”
I swallowed. I did, but the terrifying thing was that part of me no longer cared as much as it should have.
Marek must have seen something shift in my face, because all of a sudden his nostrils flared and his eyes seemed to bulge, his anger on view for the first time since he’d opened his mouth.
“Unbelievable,” he said through gritted teeth.
“What?”
“You actually want this.”
I gaped at him.
His jaw flexed hard enough that I saw the muscle jump beneath his skin. His hands clenched into fists at his sides.
“Do you know how long I have spent making sure nobody ever looked at me that way?”
The words stopped me cold.
Oh.
Realization unfolded.
Marek laughed again, the sound hollow. “Yes, you see it now, don’t you? Congratulations.”
Neither of us spoke for a moment. The corridor suddenly felt too narrow, too exposed.
“I am being careful,” I said at last. It sounded weak in the face of his rage and desolation.
His eyes snapped back to mine. “No, you are not.” The words came out sharper this time, roughened by something still dangerously close to anger. “Careful is distance. Careful is control.” He took a step closer. “You look at him like losing him would matter more than protecting yourself.”
The words hit hard enough that I couldn’t answer.
Marek folded his arms across his chest. “You think no one before you has learned to keep quiet? You think the federation hasn’t buried people before?”
An ice cold edge slid beneath my ribs. “What happened?”
His expression closed. “That’s exactly the point. Nothing happens publicly.” He held my gaze steadily. “People disappear quietly. Funding changes. Assignments stop coming. Careers flatten out.” A pause. “Stories get corrected. You of all people know this.”
I thought suddenly of Vasiliev smiling across the folding table.
Symbols must remain clear.
Marek looked exhausted now, the anger draining into something far older and more bitter.
“I spent years teaching myself that this part of me was something to survive, not something to live,” he said quietly. “Then you arrive here and look at an American skater as though he is the first honest thing you have ever seen.”
A flutter of guilt squeezed my chest. “Marek—”
“No.” He shook his head. “Do not pity me. I made my choice.” His voice cracked on the final word.
We stood there in silence after that, until at last he exhaled.
“You should end it.” His words landed with a precision I was certain he’d intended.
I said nothing.
Marek studied my face for one long moment before bleakness settled into his expression. “You can’t, can you?”
I could not. Not even for a second.
He nodded, then stepped past me toward the corridor leading back to the rink. Just before disappearing into the noise again, he stopped without turning around.
“For what it’s worth, I hope he’s worth what this is going to cost you.”
Marek walked away.
I remained where I was, staring after him.
I had known the answer to Marek’s question immediately.
And that frightened me more than anything Vasiliev had said.