Another little YOI fic that was kicking around my brain. I'll probably chapter spam this too since it's all written out and just needs edited before posting. Enjoy!
Yuri Katsuki woke up the morning of his twenty fourth birthday like any other day. His alarm went off, blaring Dancing Queen which Mari had programmed it to a week ago and he hadn't figured out how to change it back. He fumbled for his phone, finally snatching it off the bedside table and hitting the snooze just as ABBA was starting to feel the beat of the tambourine oooh yeah.
Once the music went off, he felt along blindly for his glasses and sat up. The room he was staying in was nice enough, but its proximity to the rink was what he'd really cared about when reserving it, so he ignored the ugly burgundy bedspread and slightly scratchy towels. A text notification pulled him from his ruminating on his lodgings and he checked his phone. Good luck, honey! The cheery message from his mother brought a small smile to Yuuri's face. He pulled on his practice clothes, checked to make sure his costume and skates were safely packed in his duffel bag, then headed across the street to the rink.
Though there would be half a dozen other skaters practicing that morning, he was the first one on the ice. He put in his ear phones and began to warm up, stretching and going through basic drills. Once he felt limber enough, he ran through his Free Skate program. He didn't miss a single jump. Not that it made any difference in practice. He'd made all his jumps during practice at the Grand Prix final the year before and still missed them during the actual program. Then he'd done it again at nationals. It had taken intense training to get himself back into shape after letting the depression have it's way with his body. Requalifying for nationals had been a near thing, but by some stroke of luck, he'd managed to squeak by.
Now, he needed to get a good ranking at the Rostelecom cup in order to qualify for the Grand Prix Final again. Originally, the reason he'd been so determined to make it to the GPF had been not just to redeem himself after his abysmal failure, but to skate on the same ice as his idol, Victor Nikiforov again. By yet another bit of luck, however, he was already getting to do that. Victor, too, was competing at the Rostelecom cup. Yuuri began to sweat every time he thought about it.
Of course, Victor had landed himself firmly in first place after the Short Program the day before. No one had expected otherwise. Yuuri hadn't come in last, at least, but he would need to move up from his current place in fourth if he wanted to qualify for the Grand Prix. How he was going to do that, he wasn't sure. No matter what he did, the nerves still got to him. If he couldn't find a way to manage the pressure, he was going to miss his jumps and fail to qualify.
Yuuri tried to clear his mind and lose himself in his skating. The music had changed from the familiar tune of his free skate program to the song that Victor had used at the GPF the previous year. Yuuri had learned the entire program as a way to deal with his depression, and it had worked incredibly well. Not only had it forced him to start getting back into shape after he'd let himself go, but it also let him feel close to the man he'd idolized for so long. He closed his eyes and let his feet move through the now familiar steps. It was a routine he could do extraordinarily well when there was no pressure. The only one he'd ever showed it to had been Yuuko, shortly after he'd arrived back in Japan. He had performed it for her on the same rink where he'd first learned to skate. Every move had flowed through him like quicksilver, dancing along his skin and moving his body with a rhythm from within.
Of course, he only ever skated like that when there was no pressure, no one he needed to impress. Yuuko's girls had secretly recorded the whole thing, but Yuuri thanked his lucky stars that he'd found the video and managed to delete it before they did something crazy like upload it to youtube. What a disaster that would have been. Yes, it was some of the best skating he'd ever done, but he wasn't able to stomach the idea of the rest of the world seeing such a personal performance.
When his foot landed on the last jump, he overextended and stumbled. Even thinking about what might have happened if he hadn't deleted that video still made him nervous enough to fall. His chest seized with a moment of panic as he thought of making just as much of a fool of himself later on during his free skate. He was so focused on trying to calm his racing heart that he hadn't noticed someone else on the ice. Hadn't noticed them skating over to him. And so, jumped and shrieked like a little girl when a hand was held out to help him up.
Yuuri's eyes darted up the arm that the hand belonged to, then to the face smiling down at him.
Victor.
He could only stare for a moment, hardly daring to believe it. When Victor's lips moved, no sound emerged, making Yuuri wonder if this was really a dream or something. But no, he couldn't hear because his headphones were still in. He tugged them out, feeling his face flush, and tried to form a coherent sentence.
"V-Victor Nikiforov!"
Ah yes, coherent and dignified. Victor didn't seem to mind. He smiled kindly and kept his hand held out in invitation.
"Katsuki Yuuri, yes?" he asked genially. Yuuri nodded, slipping his hand tentatively into Victor's.
"Call me Yuuri," Yuuri added as Victor pulled him to his feet.
"Yuuri," Victor repeated. "Alright then. And I trust you're willing to return the gesture?"
"U-uh s-s-sure, Victor."
"Good." The warm smile was still there, now seeming fixed in place as Victor looked Yuuri over from top to bottom. "You did a rather lovely job performing my program, if I do say so myself. Perfect, up till the slip at the end."
"You saw that, huh?" Yuuri's face flamed bright red. It was exactly the kind of thing he'd wanted to avoid... Victor was never meant to see Yuuri's tribute to him.
"Indeed I did. That's not your first time."
"Uh, no. I learned it after last years GPF, to... practice."
"That's some practice. You skated it better than I did."
"What?!" Yuuri's voice echoed around the empty rink and he clamped his hand over his mouth. "N-no! Of course I didn't!"
Victor chuckled. "Let's let the gold medalist here be the judge of that, shall we? You're an incredibly talented skater, when you're not under pressure." Yuuri didn't know what to say. He shook his head and looked down, over Victor's shoulder, anywhere but into those piercing blue eyes. "So shy," Victor chuckled. "And here I thought we could be friends."
"Friends?" Yuuri's eyes did meet Victor's then, wide and shocked.
"Well of course. Why not?"
"I just... I mean, of course I'm flattered-"
"Wonderful! Why don't you come to lunch with me this afternoon, then? I've been watching you skate all season, and I must say, we have a lot to talk about." Victor put one finger beneath Yuuri's chin and lifted it, bringing their faces close together. Yuuri's breath stopped. "Noon, at the cafe down the street?"
Yuuri felt himself nod once and then there was a bang of the door being opened. The voices of JJ and Leo rang out as they argued on their way to the rink. Victor smiled, winked, and skated away. Yuuri felt the breath he'd been holding finally release. What had Victor meant? He'd been watching Yuuri all season? They had a lot to talk about? He couldn't be serious, could he?
On shaking legs, Yuuri made his way off the ice and changed back into his shoes. He left the rink just as Seun Seun Gil and Emil Nekola were walking in. Emil waved brightly. Yuuri barely acknowledged him. Seun Gil, who hadn't bothered to wave at all, didn't mind. Emil, on the other hand, looked hurt. Yuuri was too wrapped up in his own thoughts to notice. He walked back to the hotel quickly and closed himself in the solitude of his room.
Anxiety began to creep up his spine until it tapped him on the shoulder like an old friend. A chill went through him and his stomach clenched. Despite the deep breaths he took, it didn't seem as though he was getting enough air. His skin grew clammy and it felt as though the weight of the world was pressing down on him, crushing him slowly but surely until there wouldn't be anything left of him but a smear on the ugly burgundy bedspread.
Yuuri stopped trying to fight the panic and let it consume him, dragging him along on a tide of fear and insecurity.
When he looked up again, the glaring red numbers on the clock by the bed told him it was ten minutes after noon. If he rushed, he could still catch Victor at the cafe. But what could they possibly have to talk about? He didn't want to think something so cruel of his idol, but what if Victor had only invited him as a joke? They had nothing in common; the idea of them being friends was laughable. Yuuri was too weak to be friends with someone like Victor Nikiforov, too inadequate, too... everything. Victor had probably just been being nice. He probably wanted to have lunch on his own and was relieved that Yuuri hadn't shown up. It was better this way.
Yuuri watched as the minutes ticked by. Twelve fifteen, twelve twenty, twelve thirty. One o'clock. Victor would have eaten and left by then. Hurt churned in Yuuri's gut, though he knew he had no right to feel it. He wasn't the one who'd been stood up. He'd... oh, god, he'd just stood up Victor Nikiforov. It didn't matter that Victor couldn't have actually wanted to have lunch with him anyways. If Victor Nikiforof invites you to lunch, you show up and let him have his way with you, even if all he wants is to mock you the entire time.
"I'm such an idiot," Yuuri moaned, tears of frustration falling down his cheeks. He pulled the pillow over his head and tried to blot out the rest of the world.
Several hours (and three orders from room service) later, Yuuri made his way back to the rink. Hundreds of people filled the stands, milled around the lobby, and mingled together. Yuuri kept to himself. With his earphones in, he had an excuse not to stop and talk to anyone. Just before the warm up, he caught sight of Victor and turned away. He didn't know what he could possibly sat to him, how he could explain, what excuses he could offer. On the ice, Victor spun past him twice, even held out a hand to help him up when Yuuri missed a jump, but Yuuri continued to turn away. It was just like the GPF the year before, all over again. He was going to humiliate himself on national television, and in front of his idol, again.
The buzz in his ears started as soon as the programs began. Emil skated first, followed by Seun Gil. Then, with the buzzing growing even louder, Yuuri stepped onto the ice.
He didn't miss every jump, that was something, at least. But he'd missed enough of them that he dropped to third immediately, then fourth after JJ's program, fifth after Leo, and finally landed in dead last after Victor finished skating. He didn't bother to stay for the whole award ceremony, only staying long enough to see Victor getting his gold medal, then quietly left the rink.
Back at the hotel, he expected panic to grip him once more, but instead, despair settled around him like a second skin. He'd known he was going to fail and of course he had. It wasn't as though he was surprised. The pressure was gone. His chance at making it to the GPF was gone. And just like that, he felt his career slip through his fingers and shatter into a million little pieces. There was no coming back from this. Not for him, not again. He'd accomplished his goal of skating with Victor once more, and he'd learned his lesson.
He was done.
After a hot shower, during which he'd cried until his whole body hurt, Yuuri collapsed into bed and waited for sleep to mute the pain of complete and utter failure. Tomorrow was another day. Tomorrow was the beginning of his life without skating. Tomorrow, he was going to start trying to move on.
