Yakov would swear up and down that Viktor never did what he said, but that wasn't true. If he really thought about it, he'd remember the one time that Viktor listened.

It was in the dead of night when Viktor was out on the veranda. From there, he could see cloudy, frost-bitten Moscow. No moon. No stars. Behind him, the banquet continued. A jazz singer crooned into the microphone, and it mingled with idle chatter. Insincerities. Platitudes.

Also behind him was Yakov, who was making conversation with a sponsor.

"I couldn't believe a boy that young could pull off that routine," she gushed. "You can tell how much he loves the sport."

"I couldn't believe it either, really," Yakov admitted. "It was simpler when I choreographed it months ago, but he kept adding to it."

It was at that moment that Yakov noticed Viktor and excused himself, pretending to go get some quiche bites. He walked straight out to the veranda and joined Viktor on the concrete bench. He tried to. The feeling of ice on his ass was familiar but not welcome.

Viktor chuckled despite himself.

"Oh, you think that's funny, do you?" Yakov asked, a light smirk on his lips.

Viktor didn't say anything. He just kept looking at the skyline.

This was not the first time Viktor spent a publicity event in a figurative or literal corner. Yakov was beginning to get worried. It would be one thing if Viktor was bored or easily distracted, but he always radiated a cocktail of anxiety and melancholy when around more than five people.

"You know what your problem is, Viktor?"

The question was so jarring that it took a moment to register, but Viktor thought about his answer honestly.

"I'll pull a muscle if I keep doing the splits when I'm bored?"

"What? No. Well, yes, but I was going to say that you don't assert yourself enough to enjoy yourself. You have to know what you want and go for it. Like a jump. Find your confidence. Embrace it."

Viktor didn't have much to say to that. Sensing this, Yakov continued, "If you'd prefer to stay out here, I won't make you come inside. Just remember, there's a fireplace in the lobby. You don't need to catch a cold. We can politely leave in about an hour."

Viktor finally turned to him. "Thank you," he said with a smile.

"Don't mention it," Yakov ordered as he returned to the world of shrimp puffs, starched shirts, and small talk.

'He's so quiet,' Yakov thought to himself. 'What's his true personality when he's not afraid?' The man would make it his life mission to answer that question for all his students. Viktor, Georgi, Mila, they would all come out of their shells.