Author Note: I've had the idea for this for a while and wanted to write it. Now I'm finally indulging myself. My first YOI story, though I doubt it'll be my last. I hope you enjoy!
What do you have to say about the rumors of your retirement at the end of the season?
The question had been thrown at him so many times over the last few months, and every time he heard it, Viktor did his best to dodge it. After all, Yakov would die from the scandal if he did make any kind of statement on the matter. Viktor himself didn't really see the need to hide it. If people could have figured out enough for the rumor to exist in the first place, didn't that speak volumes? It wasn't that Viktor didn't like the sport anymore. On the contrary, he lived and breathed the ice. But if he had run out of ways to surprise his audience, if he had lost the inspiration to continue, he knew his career wasn't long for this world. It was better to bow out gracefully than to keep going and risk losing his love for the ice in the process.
Looking around the room at the many members of the press who had practically surrounded him, the flashing of cameras occasionally lighting the room, Viktor thought for a moment about what exactly it was he should do in this situation. He had been here so many times, but he was starting to think it was just plain unfair for him to continue dodging the question, especially with the Grand Prix Final so close. With a silent apology to his beloved coach, Viktor brushed his bangs from his eyes, his voice finally leaving his lips, firm yet gentle, "It is unclear what I'll do once the season ends, but a break from the competition does feel like the right thing to do. Of course, that doesn't mean I'm ready to bow out with anything less than gold. What is it they say, 'always leave on a high'?"
Viktor's gentle smile, his 'press' smile was painted across his lips by the time he'd finished his statement. He looked around the room, genuinely surprised to find the flashing had stopped and the room had filled with complete and utter silence. Had he said something wrong? Maybe Yakov was right, maybe he shouldn't have said anything. But just as quickly as the silence fell around him, the press were all clambering to ask more questions, talking over each other until the whole room was roaring with noise. And Viktor would've answered more questions. He really would've. However, the spotlight was swiftly stolen from him as his coach rushed in, grabbing the nearest microphone and speaking firmly, "Viktor will not be making anymore statements at this time."
As his fuming coach was pushing him out of the room, Viktor waved at his adoring public, offering them one of his trademark winks. Yakov was never going to let him hear the end of this, he knew. But it was out there now. He couldn't take it back. The thought that he couldn't go back on his words was comforting. This was it. He'd made his decision.
OoOoO
"It's all over the news." Phichit's voice echoed through Yuuri's phone, but he didn't say a word, staring at the television in front of him, watching as Viktor Nikiforov, the Russian God of Figure Skating, the inspiration for Yuuri's own career on the ice announced that this season was going to be his last.
"He… he didn't really say it, though… right?" Yuuri's voice was barely a whisper, desperation clear as his voice seemed to crack partway through the question, "I mean, he just said it was a good idea, he didn't say he'd actually do it."
"You know him better than anyone else," Phichit's voice seemed to have softened, knowing that Yuuri needed someone to reassure him, "He likes to surprise people, right? This is the biggest surprise he could give us. But don't worry, Yuuri. You made it to the final. You'll get to skate on the same ice as him, just like you always wanted. Just in time, too."
"That's not the problem! Viktor belongs on the ice!" Yuuri snapped, realising after a moment that he had just snapped at his best friend and he really needed to calm down. Running a hand over his face, Yuuri sighed softly, "I'm sorry. I'm just stressed out, I guess. I should probably go. I'll talk to you later, okay?"
Phichit's voice kept its reassuring tone and Yuuri could practically hear his smile, "No worries, man. I'll call you soon, okay? We're all rooting for you."
As he hung up the phone, Yuuri dropped it to the ground beside him, resting his head back on the bed behind him. He had worked so hard to get to Viktor Nikiforov's level. He knew he still wasn't anywhere close, but he'd gotten far enough to at least be able to skate on the same ice as him. And it would be the only time. His one chance. Yuuri knew that this wasn't his decision. Of course it wasn't, Viktor wanted to retire. But why? What had happened to his idol to make him want to leave the ice? There had to be something. It couldn't just be a whim. Could it? Viktor Nikiforov was known to go out of his way to surprise an audience, so anything was possible. Yuuri doubted he'd do something that would hurt himself unnecessarily, though. So why? And why now?
He wanted to prove himself to everyone, to show that he could do this, that he was stronger than all the self-doubt radiating through his body. He wanted Viktor to see him skate and to know that he had inspired so many people. He wanted his skating to make his idol proud. Yuuri wasn't at the level where he could do that, though. That's what he had kept telling himself ever since the rumors started circulating. He kept reminding himself that if he didn't have the chance to prove himself, then Viktor surely wasn't going to retire. Viktor would wait for him to be ready. But why would he? Why did the voice in his head decide that the God of Figure Skating would wait for him? He wasn't anyone special. Viktor Nikiforov would never watch him skate. He doubted Viktor would even see him skate at the final. No doubt he'd be surrounded by paparazzi desperate for more answers on the news of his retirement.
Yuuri rested his head in his hands, letting the tears stream, his body shaking with the emotions he was feeling. This was his one chance to prove himself, and he wasn't ready. He wasn't ready to lose his idol. Viktor Nikiforov couldn't leave the ice. He wouldn't let him.
OoOoO
As time went on, Yuuri kept training, trying to prepare himself for the Sochi Grand Final, but his coach could see the uncertainty in his every move. The Japanese man hadn't ever been particularly confident in himself, and the only reason Celestino had taken him on at all was because of a video Phichit had shown him of Yuuri skating in a rink devoid of any people. Yuuri Katsuki worked best away from prying eyes, and that was the challenge of coaching him. If Yuuri wanted to step up to the big leagues, he had to be willing to bare his soul on the ice in front of everyone, not just when he was alone. As much as Celestino tried to get Yuuri to see that, he found that his student would always inevitably hide himself from the world, focusing too much on the routine and not enough of the emotion behind it. Yuuri was a fortress, walls of steel surrounded him, protecting him from the world around him. Celestino wanted desperately to break down those walls and let Yuuri's true potential shine through, but he needed Yuuri to want it, too.
Things slowly went from bad to worse, his whole world crashing down around him. His idol was retiring. His dog whom he held so dear was no more, and he hadn't been there for him. Yuuri Katsuki's world was spiralling out of control. His nerves were shot. When it was his turn to skate, he barely heard the call. His whole body shook with a mix of emotions that caused his stomach to sink. He was nauseous. He was hurting. He was alone. Celestino tried his best to encourage Yuuri to get out there and skate like he did in those quiet moments of solitude. That was his only chance to truly make a name for himself out there.
As the music for his routine began to fill the air, Yuuri's eyes were fixed to the ice below him. His coach's words echoed through his mind. Skate like no one's watching. Little did he know that not only was the entire arena's audience watching, his idol was on the sidelines, his eyes transfixed on the Japanese man making the ice his own.
Viktor wasn't sure what to think at first. The dark-haired man standing in the centre of the rink was shaking like a leaf and the Russian couldn't help but feel for him. As Yuuri began to glide across the ice, Viktor's eyes never left the spectacle. His moves were uncertain, that much was clear. That step sequence, though… Viktor had never seen anyone move quite like that. It was beautiful, and he couldn't help but imagine how stunning Yuuri Katsuki could be if those nerves weren't holding him back. It was as if Yuuri knew that Viktor's eyes were on him. As the competitor began his first jump, a triple axel, their eyes met. Viktor flashed Yuuri an encouraging smile, hoping the gesture would be enough to calm those nerves that were obvious in his every movement. As it turned out, this was not what Yuuri needed. As the jump broke their eye contact, all Viktor could do was watch as Yuuri over rotated, falling off his feet and landing hard on the ice. The Russian winced, but didn't look away, silently urging the skater before him to get back up and keep going. And keep going, he did.
Yuuri barely landed any of his jumps, falling on a few more occasions and with each stumble, the nerves seemed to be catching up with him. He shouldn't be there, his mind kept telling him. He didn't belong on this ice. He wasn't good enough for this. He should've been back home with Vicchan. He should've been anywhere but here. His idols eyes were on him, and it just made that voice in Yuuri's head remind him that he would never be able to stand proudly beside Viktor Nikiforov. He would never be able to inspire people like the Russian had inspired him. Yuuri just wanted it to end. Every jump was a stumble, his heart racing with fear and shame as the program he'd worked so hard to learn was slowly falling apart at the seams. And just as quickly as the madness began, it was over. There were tears in Yuuri's eyes because he knew. He knew he couldn't possibly recover from this humiliation. He didn't pay much attention as his legs guided him to the kiss and cry. His coach was there waiting for him with an unreadable expression and all Yuuri could do was sit, his head in his hands as he tried to drown out the sound of his score being revealed. Yuuri knew he wasn't going to make the podium. Hell, he knew he wouldn't be beating anyone with that performance. He felt sick to his stomach, quickly getting to his feet and making his way out of the arena the moment he was able to.
OoOoO
"Why do we have to waste time with these stupid banquets, anyway?" The blond boy beside him practically spat out the words and Viktor couldn't help but smile.
If there was one thing Viktor could appreciate, it was someone who spoke their mind. Yuri Plisetsky was young, but he had a fire inside him both on and off the ice. It was a fire that Viktor knew could take the young boy far. If only his young companion could learn to keep that fire to himself, particularly around the paparazzi. He was young, Viktor had reasoned. He had time to learn. Viktor took a sip from the champagne flute in his hand, looking around the room as he spoke, "Better get used to it, Yuri, you're in the big leagues now."
A huff came from the small figure beside him, a moment of silence passing before he finally spoke up, "You've got to be kidding, what's that clown doing here?"
With Yuri's question, Viktor turned to look in the direction his companion was staring, and the sight truly caught him off guard. Of all the people he expected to see at the banquet, Yuuri Katsuki was not one of them. It wasn't that he didn't think he belonged there. On the contrary, Viktor was pleased to get the chance to see him again, but Yuuri's skate hadn't exactly been the most inspiring of performances. It was obvious that Yuuri wasn't taking it well. So why come to the banquet? And then he saw the coach's hands on Yuuri's shoulders, urging him to move into the room, encouraging him to mingle. This wasn't where Yuuri Katsuki wanted to be. This was where he was stuck being until this nightmare finally came to an end.
"Shouldn't he have crawled back to Japan by now?" The Russian voice beside him finally distracted Viktor enough for him to look away, frowning at the young boy.
"He's just as welcome here as anyone else."
Yuri scoffed, "You saw that performance. If you can even call it that."
"Yurochka." Viktor's voice was stern, causing a few people around them to look in their general direction, but Viktor really didn't care. He didn't call Yuri by that name often, only when he was taking things too far, and for Viktor, 'too far' was very subjective. "Rule one of skating; respect your fellow competitors."
"I wasn't competing against him…" Yuri grumbled, but took the hint and let any further insults for the Japanese man across the room die before they left his lips.
The banquet itself had started out quietly, the same routine from every other banquet like it was falling into place as Viktor would be approached by someone, make some small talk, and then excuse himself. It wasn't that Viktor didn't like the attention, he just didn't feel like answering the same questions over and over again. Viktor didn't like routine. He liked surprise. It was with this thought in mind that things in the room began to get a little more interesting.
Viktor had to admit, he had torn his attention away from the Japanese figure skater who always seemed to be on the other side of the room, but it was hard to ignore him now. He was drunk. So very drunk. How much could he possibly have had to cause him to be moving so sluggishly? Viktor couldn't begin to imagine what was going through Yuuri Katsuki's head as he stumbled through the room until he was dancing. And Viktor couldn't for the life of him take his eyes away.
Yuuri Katsuki was like nothing he'd ever seen before. It wasn't just that he could move on the ice. When his inhibitions had faded away, when he was completely lost to the world around him, when Yuuri was dancing for no one but himself, he was absolutely stunning. There was no hesitation in his steps as he dragged the Russian Punk onto the dance floor and Viktor couldn't help but laugh as the young boy protested. Viktor was sure the only reason Yuri was going along with this dance off was because of that strong competitive streak within him. Viktor didn't care. He was just so focused on the way Yuuri moved, the certainty of his every breath. Viktor was in awe of the man before him.
All too quickly, the dance had ended with no clear winner announced, but in Viktor's mind there was no doubt. Yuuri started heading back to the bar for yet another drink and Viktor felt himself struck with one thought. I need to dance with him. Without a second thought, Viktor was walking with so much purpose, making his way towards the dark-haired man who had entranced him both on and off the ice. As he stood beside Yuuri Katsuki, he leaned against the table, a champagne flute still in hand, "You really do move beautifully."
It was the first thought that came to Viktor's mind and perhaps it wasn't the best way to introduce yourself to someone, but he meant every word. The sound of his voice seemed to cause the man beside him to jump, quickly looking up at him and Viktor was sure his heart has stopped at that moment. He had seen Yuuri Katsuki on the ice, but there was so much distance between them then. Now, though… Yuuri was so close and he found himself lost in those rich brown eyes. He could see every detail of those eyes from this close, the flecks of gold within them, the sheer innocence. Viktor wanted to ask for that dance, but as he looked into Yuuri's eyes, words seemed to fail him.
The first emotions he saw in those eyes was easily recognisable. A mix of surprise, shock, and… was Yuuri star struck? Another fan, Viktor had concluded, but it didn't really matter. If nothing else, it meant that he had more of a chance to convince Yuuri to dance with him with all the passion he'd shown moments ago. Viktor was about to ask him to do just that when the look in those dark eyes changed. This was something else. Anger. Hurt. Viktor felt his breath catch in his throat at the sight of it. What was the young man in front of him thinking? What could possibly have those beautiful eyes looking at him like that? And as if he'd heard the question in Viktor's mind, Yuuri finally spoke.
"Why are you quitting, Viktor?" The words were slurred, but Yuuri's expression was filled with sadness. He knew exactly what he was asking.
"I…" Viktor had been asked this question so many times and every time, he'd managed to dodge it. This was the first time someone had truly caught him off guard. He didn't know what to say. And once again, as if Yuuri could hear his thoughts, he spoke again, letting Viktor off the hook. For now.
"You can't! You belong on the ice!" Another statement Viktor had heard from most of the press and almost everyone in that room, but never had he heard it said with such desperation. And once again, Yuuri's expression shifted. The hurt disappearing and now nothing but pure resolve was left behind, "If I win gold at the next Grand Prix Final, you have to come back to the ice. You're going to compete again."
It didn't even seem to be a question. Yuuri seemed so certain that he was going to win gold the following year and Viktor would be back on the ice. Without thinking, Viktor tilted his head to the side, his silver locks, shifting out of his eyes as he did, "And what about if you lose? What do I get then?"
Yuuri seemed to consider the words for a moment, "What do you want?"
And Viktor had never been more certain of anything in his life, "One dance." He reached out, brushing his fingers against Yuuri's chin, causing the man before him to look back up into his eyes, "One dance filled with all that passion you keep hidden within you. I want to know who Yuuri Katsuki really is."
A blush crept up Yuuri's face and Viktor couldn't help but smile. Reluctantly, he dropped his hand from Yuuri's face, raising an eyebrow, determined to maintain that eye contact for as long as he possibly could. Yuuri hesitantly reached out a hand, taking Viktor's and shaking it between them, "D-Deal."
Neither of them had any idea what they'd just signed up for.