But it had been...
Cold.
And not just because ice skating rinks were, by definition, something close to freezing. Mason was a summer child, and he loved the heat, but it was very hot and he'd thought that a quick trip into the sub-zero might be good for both of them.
But every time he reached for Khaz's hand, he'd tensed, if not pulled away entirely. And Mason didn't know why.
Maybe it was because he was uniquely terrible at ice skating, he'd finally convinced himself. Maybe it was because Khaz was worried that if they held hands, and Mason fell down, he'd bring Khaz down with him.
So Mason had decided he better get better at ice skating, if he ever wanted to have cute wintery memories with his boyfriend. He stood up, wobbled over to the rink, and cautiously stepped onto the ice. He felt the usual displacement, the feeling like the world wasn't quite solid under him, and pushed past it, trying to move with the grace that some others around him were - he felt a pang of something like jealousy at the way some of these people moved across the ice like it was - like it was air and their legs were wings and they were flying.
...That was a convoluted analogy even by his standards, Mason realized, as he stared down at his feet, and he had to keep himself from laughing at the image of his legs turning into wings. He swallowed a laugh and wobbled immediately, making his grip tighten on the handrail he was clutching.
A small child glided past him and the laughter died in Mason's throat. He was a freaking Knight, a Page of Earth, and he was being lapped by five-year-olds.
No wonder Khaz didn't want to hold his hand. He was an embarrassment.
Shanyume
