"Come back."
" I can't."
The silence was something awful. Yura huffed, scowling around him before letting his gaze fall back upon the man he was trying to drag back to St. Petersburg.
It had been little over two years since Yuuri had won silver at the Grand Prix. In 2017 he has finally worked his way to a gold, with Yura himself in close second and Viktor just behind. Yura supposed that was when his friend's anxiety had begun to get worse again, and the Grand Prix just gone spoke for that.
Yuuri had bombed at the last minute, flubbing too many of his jumps, and missing his combination in his free skate. That had been the worst- Yura remembered seeing him nail that perfectly so many times during practise. It wasn't his worst year, for certain, and it didn't come close to JJ's crushing defeat back in 2016, either, but it was enough.
Yura studied Yuuri, as they stood there in the hard frozen snow. The formers face seemed to have frozen too, into a stiff smile that in the past had been only reserved for strangers and over-excited fans.
A window above then opened with a chunk, and a small sheet of snow plopped onto the ground next to them. Yuuri sighed and shifted to move, as a small apology was called out by the woman above them.
"Would you like to come in?" Yuuri asked, the formality quiet, his voice muffled by his scarf.
Before Yura could answer, Yuuri had moved to the reception door and was holding it open for him.
The hotel that Yura had found him in was small, but no less homely. The warm tungsten lights in the low hanging ceiling of the reception helped take the chill out of the atmosphere somewhat, and Yura could feel himself beginning to relax a little. Surveying his surroundings, he noted a dark green sofa, and a well stocked magazine rack, before Yuuri's stilted Russian brought his attention back to the matter at hand.
"I would like to book one room for my friend, please." He was trying his best, and Yura noted that it had gotten a little better since the last they saw each other.
"Hey, Katsudon, I'm not staying!" Yura interjected, stalking over, "please ignore him, he is meant to be checking out."
"You can't just leave this instant; it's getting late. I don't even know how you got here." Yuuri had switched back to English again, frowning.
"Otabek is outside," Yura replied, teeth gritted, "and he's getting cold. So hurry up and grab your shit-"
"Ah, sorry, please make that one double room-"
"What? No!"
"Oh, sorry, a twin. You know, I don't think they mind it here, Yurio-"
"Katsuki, I swear-"
"It's okay, you can always push the beds together. Go and get Otabek; I'll wait here."
"We're not dating, you idiot." He huffed, knowing he wouldn't win, and yanked the outside door back open.
Stomping over to the car park, he noted Otabek had killed the engine on his rental bike and was stood against it, fiddling on his phone. He looked up as he heard the approaching angry footsteps.
"Ah, Yura, look at this post-" he held up his phone for the other to see, but was snubbed.
"Show me later. We're staying the night."
"Oh. I take it this is Katsuki's idea." It wasn't a question.
"Mm." Yura grunted an affirmation and started unbuckling his side of Otabek's saddlebags. His fingers had started to stiffen up from the cold, so he wasn't doing very well, and his frustration was building.
"Ugh. Beka?"
Otabek unbuckled the whole thing and slung it over his shoulders, pocketing his phone beforehand.
"Lead the way."
Yuuri welcomed them back in and handed them their room key. A small, but nonetheless polite greeting was exchanged between Yuuri and Otabek, before they moved through the hotel.
"So… how did you find me?" Yuuri asked, not through curiosity it seemed, but just to break the silence as they climbed the stairs. In fact, Yura felt he could almost sense a tinge of annoyance in there.
Despite that, he couldn't help but laugh.
"Are you serious? You tagged the location on one of your angsty photos!"
"Angsty photos?"
"Yes? On your instagram? He fumbled with his phone, cursing with the slow connection as Yuuri's profile loaded. "There."
Yuuri began to laugh.
"Just because it's in black and white, it doesn't mean it's angsty," by now they had reached the room. "Anyway, here- you're next door to me."
Otabek dropped the saddlebags in front of the door and waited patiently for Yura to finish.
"Listen, Katsudon," he grumbled, "I appreciate the room, but you need to come home tomorrow okay? We'll call Viktor, get him to meet us. Three can't fit on Beka's bike, so…"
Yuuri looked awkward, and Yura caught it.
"What, you can't even face your own husband? Are you kidding me?!"
"That's not it, I-"
"You what? Do you know how upset he is? He misses you! The fucking dog, too! They both just sit on the sofa all day, sighing while Viktor texts everyone. He hasn't done the dishes since you left!"
"He doesn't do the dishes anyway." Yuuri tried, voice quiet.
"That's not my point! How could you just leave him? No messages, nothing, but you can still post a god damned picture of- what even is that, hotel soap?" He paused to look at the photo again. "Fucking hotel soap. You can post a picture of some shitty soap, but not message your friends. And now I have to call your husband, drag his sorry ass from practise-"
At that point, Yuuri's hotel door opened, and a very sleep bedraggled Viktor peered out. Yura was stunned.
"Are you fucking kidding me?"
"Yurio, why are you shouting?" Viktor leant against the door frame, rubbing his face, "I was having a nap."
Yura wondered for a split second why he was so surprised. He just stared at the two in disbelief, while Otabek pried the hotel key from his hand.
"Are you two actually fucking kidding me?" He repeated, almost growling.
Katsuki looked like he might cry, and began trying to push his idiot of a husband back into their room.
"Please go back inside-! Please! Yurio is mad! Why didn't you text him?!"
"Oh, I was supposed to?"
"Yes! Yes, you were! Once you left the rink-!"
"Oh. Oh!" Viktor laughed. "I guess I forgot. I'm sorry, Yurio. You know, thinking about it, I should have really told Yakov, too, so…" he looked at his husband, then Yura, and then over to Otabek, who had now got the hotel room open and was just about to carry the bags in. "Ah, hi, Otabek."
"It's good to see you, Nikiforov."
"I didn't know you were in Russia. Are you staying long?"
"He's here until February," Yura interjected, teeth gritted, "and stop using my friend to get out of the line of fire."
"Oh, just friend?" Viktor asked, his head tilted to one side, his shit-stirring smile beginning to creep across his face.
"Yes! Shut up! You do this with all my friends!"
"I thought Otabek was your only friend?" Viktor was going in for the kill tonight, apparently.
"Shut up!" Was again, all Yura could think to hiss as he ushered Otabek through the door, slamming it behind him.
He turned to see Otabek struggling to keep a straight face.
"Don't you start, or I swear to God, Altin-"
The man shrugged, and turned away, but Yura caught the grin as it formed and swatted at the back of his friend's head gently.
"You dick, I said don't start."
"Am I really your only friend?"
"No! I'm friends with those two idiots, too, although right now I'm seriously considering otherwise. And don't forget Mila! Even though she still throws me about."
"Aren't you taller than her, now?"
"Yes, but I swear to God, that woman is possessed. How else would she have that strength yet still look so tiny? I bet she secretly works out by bench pressing cars."
"You mean, you don't?" Otabek crossed the room and hung his jacket on the back of a chair. "I can lift my bike with one hand."
"Oh, sure," Yura rolled his eyes, "and I can do press ups with my pinkie."
He flopped onto one of the beds while Otabek made his way into the en-suite. It was comfy, he noted, even if it did look like an old lady had decorated it. There were floral prints everywhere, and the decoration was a single painting featuring a cat sat next to a jug of hyacinths. That was bolted to the wall none too lovingly. The cat he liked, but he could give or take the flowers- they were painted in a blue that was a little too harsh for his tastes. He rolled over to look out the window, and saw it had started to snow again. Begrudgingly, he accepted that Katsuki was probably right. Driving back this late in the day would have been dangerous. Even if the imminent nightfall wasn't a factor, motorcycling in the snow didn't sound as fun as it would have looked badass to the passerby.
He heard the chain flush and the sound of water running. A second later he looked up as Otabek re-entered the room.
"Do you have a charger?" Yura asked, not moving.
"Uh, I should do. Did you check your bag?"
"Does it look like I've moved at all?" Yura snorted. "I don't even think I brought one. It's not like I was planning to stay the night at some weird hotel."
"I think it's nice," Otabek offered.
"What, the hotel?"
"Yeah. That soap really is something."
"Fuck off about the soap. It's what got us here in the first place. What kind of an idiot disappears for a week, says he wants to be alone, and then broadcasts to like, a thousand people that he's in some hotel barely two hours from St. Petersburg?"
"Mm. Maybe he just needed a holiday."
"Yeah, maybe, but not without Viktor. Let alone Makkachin."
"So, he was getting lonely," Otabek rummaged around in his bag and brought out his phone charger, and threw it over to Yura. "Although, Viktor knew where he was anyway."
"Honestly, the more I try to understand what goes on in the heads of those two, the more confused I get." He sat up to catch it, unravelled the cable and hung over the bed to search for a socket.
"Then don't."
He heard Otabek sit down on his own bed.
"What?" He asked, sitting up and then hitting his head on the corner of the bedside table and yelping.
"Well done," the other laughed, "but seriously. Why do you have to understand a person to be friends with them?"
Yura slipped to the floor, clutching his head.
"Don't life-lesson me when I'm in pain, idiot, I'm dying."
"You're not dying."
"Yes I am! You've never hit your head like this, 'cause you came out of the womb wearing a bike helmet!"
"You're so melodramatic. You never complain like this when you fall a practise."
"That's because the ice made me a man."
"I thought your testosterone did that?"
Yuratchka sat up and shot a glare over the bed at Otabek.
"You shut your face, Altin. I was a man before that, too, you know."
"I know," Otabek smiled, "I'm sorry. That joke was in poor taste."
"You bet it was, fucker." Yura threw a pillow at his head. "Anyway, I'm going to go and get some food before my brains leak from my ears. Do you want anything?"
"Mm. Piroshki."
"There's more to eat in Russia than piroshki," he muttered, standing up and heading to the door. "What if there isn't any?"
"Guess I'll die." Otabek shrugged.
"And I'm melodramatic." He opened the door to the hotel hall and turned to shit it. "Let me back in?"
"Will do," Otabek affirmed, and Yura shut the door with a click.
A.N~
So, I hope this was a good read for you all! I haven't written in so long, so I feel that there are bound to be a few mistakes-!
Nonetheless, if you guys have a spare minute, feedback would be so greatly appreciated ;w; it keeps me motivated to get the next chapter out lmao,,,,
Speaking of which, the next chapter coming will be from our other Yuri's perspective. It hopefully should be up soon!