EGRV 33 | Gravity

When he kissed him, his heart skipped a beat—a sensation of freefall—before being caught again. It felt exactly like that split second of dropping in.

The competition broadcast finished just then, and the rankings were displayed on the LCD screen. His name sat boldly in first place. The table of guys who had asked for his autograph earlier started cheering, whistling in his direction and raising a toast from across the room.

When it came to drinking, Chi Yu had always been generous. He accepted the gesture, raised his glass, tilted his head back, and with a bob of his Adam’s apple, the second drink hit the bottom. He raised his hand and ordered a third, same as Liang Muye’s. Another Delirium Drive.

On the big screen, he was first, and Max Willard was right behind him. Just like at Mont Tremblant, just like in their childhood, they had swept the top two spots hand in hand. But now, everything around them had changed.

The screen cut to a new frame, beginning the post-race interviews. Chi Yu had bolted faster than anyone after the race, so the reporters hadn’t managed to catch him. Instead, they had grabbed the runner-up, Max, interviewing him for six or seven minutes. They listened as he chatted about everything from today’s competition to his long-term plans for the FWT this season, and even the big winter sports movie his board sponsor, Rossignol, was planning to shoot this year.

Liang Muye saw him staring fixedly at the screen, and seeing him turn his head away at that specific moment, he guessed what was on his mind.

He spoke up. 

“There’s a magazine in your car. I took it up to read that night while I was waiting for you overnight.”

It was coverage of the last competition where he and Max had shared a stage at Tremblant, reported by a local ski magazine. After that, Max had left the training camp at his parents’ insistence. His parents were quite dissatisfied with his rebellious streak in recent years and had high demands for his academic performance. They sent him to a local elite boarding high school, delaying his entry into international competitions.

That year, he was sixteen and Max was seventeen. He went to three stops of the Junior Freeride Tour and placed in all three, while Max was forced to stay in a fully enclosed boarding school. That was when the two had their first explosive argument. Teenagers are always arrogant and high-strung; having missed a year, Max not only spent little time with Chi Yu but also couldn’t reconcile his own position in the hierarchy, refusing to answer Chi Yu’s calls several times.

Chi Yu didn’t dodge the subject. He nodded. 

“Yeah.”

“What happened between you two back then?”

He thought for a moment before speaking. 

“That was… stuff from when we were kids. We came out of the same youth training team in the same year. Later, his parents made him go back to boarding school to study. Whatever was between us was supposed to be over.”

Max was indeed very handsome—pale blond hair, pale green eyes that looked almost gray in the sunlight. He probably had millions of followers on Instagram; he was the kind of handsome that countless adolescent girls would swoon over. Liang Muye felt that teenage Chi Yu hadn’t exactly lost out in that regard.

“And later?”

“Later… two years later, after I finished competing abroad, I went back to Montreal. He found me and said he didn’t want it to end. So, I agreed again.”

That summer was like a fucking dream. It began with a moment of soft-heartedness during a low point in Chi Yu’s life and ended in the most humiliating predicament of his life. After just one year back at boarding school, Max seemed like a different person. He was commanding attention on social media, posting photos with hot girls every other day.

“I found out he had a girlfriend on the side. Or rather, I should say, his girlfriend found me in his room.”

“…” Liang Muye thought about how thin-skinned Chi Yu was and silently cursed, Fuck.

Moreover, it wasn’t just Max’s little girlfriend at the time who found out—his whole family did. Max’s parents didn’t even talk to Max; they called Chi Mian directly to talk to Chi Yu’s father.

The sky that had been held up entirely by affection and love at sixteen or seventeen collapsed at a speed defying natural science. Chi Mian used to give him some pocket money and call him a few times a year. Now, hearing that he wasn’t studying properly and was gay to boot, he practically disowned him. The only thing was, Chi Yu had already stepped out of that house at ten years old, living in a different country. To kick him out any further, they’d have to send him to outer space.

“And then?”

“There is no ‘then.’ That’s the whole story.” Feeling the alcohol go to his head, Chi Yu didn’t answer the question directly but turned it back on him. 

“Why does everyone insist on moving forward?”

“What do you mean?” Liang Muye couldn’t quite keep up with his train of thought. He deduced the context from what was said before and asked, “Did he—did Max say that to you? Told you to move forward?”

The more Chi Yu thought about it, the more he spiraled, his tone becoming aggressive. 

“Who made the rule that we have to move forward? I won’t move forward. Is that okay?”

Liang Muye put away his usual laid-back expression and looked at him seriously. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong, so of course you should move forward. He, on the other hand, shouldn’t be allowed to forget.”

Deceit is a form of betrayal, of course, but so is forgetting. Liang Muye was right. Chi Yu hadn’t even realized it himself, but that one sentence was what had made him so angry. Everyone else could laugh it off, everyone else could take the high road, but he alone was trapped in the past. Whether with Max or with Yichuan. All the pasts, piled up.

However, in a different context, Chi Yu didn’t know if he was qualified to move forward, to walk the main road.

Truth hits much harder than alcohol. Chi Yu drank too much and let his guard down. He said, “Liang Muye, I didn’t expect it. We’re actually pretty alike.”

They were sitting very close, knees pressing against knees. The voice of the man beside him dropped lower and lower until it was almost a whisper. 

“I’m actually not surprised. I used to be more like you. Besides photography, I liked mountain climbing, outdoor rock climbing, that sort of thing. Nature is an endless puzzle; there’s always a new mountain you want to conquer, right?”

Chi Yu turned his head, and borrowing courage from the alcohol, asked a question he already knew the answer to. 

“And later?”

Liang Muye gave him only the truth. 

“It might sound cliché to say it out loud. A few years ago, I lost my best friend at the time. It was a very routine project. I never expected that of the two of us who went, only I would come back.”

This part, Chi Yu didn’t know. He asked again, “So, did you move forward?”

Liang Muye didn’t answer him. Instead, he smiled, patted Chi Yu on the shoulder, and raised his hand to call the waiter for the bill.

Within five seconds, someone delivered the check to the table. Chi Yu felt he hadn’t experienced such speed in paying a bill in years. He felt they hadn’t talked enough; he still had the words closest to his heart left unsaid.

But Liang Muye didn’t linger. He hadn’t even finished his drink; the ice had melted too fast, diluting the cocktail, so he left the dregs at the bottom of the glass.

As they walked out the door, Chi Yu mustered his courage again and said, “There are actually a lot of things I haven’t told you…”

He was so nervous he just started walking down the first path he saw, not looking at the direction at all.

“Tell me slowly when we have a chance later,” Liang Muye walked on his outer side, reached out to drape an arm around his shoulder, and steered him to the right. 

“Parking lot is this way.”

He guided Chi Yu into the small alley behind the bar that led to the parking lot.

“Then when will you…” Chi Yu didn’t finish his sentence. Because Liang Muye hadn’t removed his hand. He was still holding his shoulder, as naturally as could be.

When Liang Muye appeared before him, he was always perfectly calm, like lake water, like a mirror. For the past few weeks, Chi Yu had leaned in close, looking from the left, looking from the right, but all he saw reflected back was his own thousand-fold anxiety.

But beautiful illusions must eventually shatter. Tonight was the deadline; he might as well shatter it with his own hands.

Chi Yu broke free from his arm. Just as Liang Muye was about to speak, Chi Yu pushed him against the wall with one hand.

He leaned in close, his breath dusting Liang Muye’s face. 

“What exactly… are we considered right now?”

Liang Muye remained composed. 

“We are whatever you want us to be.”

“Then I want us to be this. Is that okay?”

Chi Yu didn’t even finish the sentence before those thin lips pressed against his. It was a kiss that was urgent, forceful, wishing it could carry the wind. But the kiss was soft, like his heart.

Liang Muye told himself to stop. He pushed Chi Yu’s chest away slightly, creating a distance of just a palm’s width. But it was still too close; he couldn’t even escape the scorching breath.

Chi Yu looked at him, his gaze burning again. Just like when he had just skied down from the top of the Diamond Bowl. Without goggles to block it, the light was blinding.

Liang Muye never claimed to be a gentleman, and now, what little composure he had left was about to be discarded.

“Chi Yu, you better fucking be sure.”

But this time, Chi Yu didn’t hesitate for a second. He threw Liang Muye’s own words right back at him: “Regret is more terrifying than failure.”

When he kissed him again, Chi Yu closed his eyes.

The most unforgettable part of skiing big mountain freeride is nothing other than that split second at the top of a steep slope, when the body leans forward. You have to defy your instincts, embrace gravity, and wait for yourself to land on the edge. No matter how many thousands of times you repeat it, it is forever dangerous, forever dizzying.

When he kissed him, his heart skipped a beat—a sensation of freefall—before being caught again. It felt exactly like that split second of Dropping In.