A.N~ Trigger warning please just don't read. I don't want to spread this pain on to you so please just leave now. It's not worth it. You might think it is but I can promise you it's not.
Yuri looked watched Otabek open his snapchat. In fact, he watched him open all of them. But Otabek didn't reply. Yuri watched with a tinge of anxiety as the hourglass appeared next to their conversation.
This idiot is going to blow our streak.
Yuri quickly snapped a picture of himself, the dim light made him look like a skeleton. He added the message, 'are you mad at me or something?' Send. He hovered over their conversation, waiting. The picture was left unopened; the message was not read. Otabek didn't reply. Yuri felt his stomach drop. He refreshed the conversation, he checked his wifi connection, he waited. "Come on Beka," Yuri whispered, once again swiping down on the screen to refresh. Nothing. Yuri clicked his phone off and laid it face down on the mattress next to him. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling.
What did I do?
Yuri closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of city traffic. A plane passed overhead shrieking as it approached.
Sounds like it could come down right on top of me.
And with that thought, Yuri's mind drifted into sleep.
/
Yuri opened his eyes the next morning and quickly turned over his phone. The home screen was bare of notifications. He opened snapchat and his heart sunk. His 189 day streak was dead. He swiped over on the conversation his snapchat from the night before had been opened. Not only was their streak over, it had been killed. Yuri's chest froze over. Guilt crawled up under his covers and burrowed into his stomach.
'Are you ok? Did I do something?'
The message was not read and Yuri clIcked off his phone and slowly sat up in bed.
He's being pissy about something. Whatever, he'll get over it.
As much as Yuri would have liked to spend his morning grieving a meaningless number he had more important things to do. He went through his typical routine. He pulled on workout clothes, packed his bag, and grabbed something to eat on the bus ride to the rink. Before, when he lived with Lilia and Yakov he could just ride over with them. It shouldn't be the end of the world to take a dirt cheap, 10 minute bus ride in the morning. Except, the bus fucking sucked. Yuri shoved his earbuds in and tried to ignore the nauseating exhaust fumes and the annoying sniffling coming from the other passengers.
When his stop came Yuri practically leapt off the bus, just like he did every morning. He walked about a block to the rink and pushed oven the heavy glass doors. The sound of skates cutting into the ice caught his ear. God, he loved that sound. He rounded the corner and instantly the air turned sour. Victor. The silver haired man swirled across the ice like a swan. Yakov stood in the middle of the ice watching Victors movements carefully. He wasn't yelling, a fact Yuri took particular notice to. Yuri threw his bag onto the bench not bothering to be quiet. He laced up his skates and checked the clock.
My turn.
Yuri got up and stood by the gate.
"I'd like to run it through one more time, the transition out of the combination could be smoother," Victor said as he wiped the sweat off of the back of his neck.
"Check the clock old man," Yuri sneered. "This is my ice now."
"Just a minute Yuri," Yakov said from his spot on the ice. "Victor, run it through again." Yuri's eyes widened. His hands clenched the blue siding.
What the hell. Why do I bother getting here on time?
Yuri's stomach boiled as he watched Victor practice his short program. Of course, he executed it flawlessly. Victor stepped off the ice like he owned it. He put a hand on Yuri's shoulder as they passed at the gate.
"Good luck Yurio," he said. Yuri stepped onto the ice ready to reclaim it.
Victor was gone for a whole year. He doesn't control this rink. Not anymore.
Yuri's short program for the upcoming season was centered around 'love'' or something like that. Lilia picked it. It contrasted with his free skate which was supposed to be about 'loss'. Yuri rolled his eyes when the concepts were presented to him. One, the love thing was just stupid and overdone and two, Yuri had never lost at anything in his life and he wasn't about to start now. The choreography turned out to be a bitch. It was harder than anything Yuri had attempted in the past, full of quads, combinations and dizzying step sequences.
Practice was torture. Every day he attempted the same ridiculous spins and step sequences and everyday he ended up with his back on the ice. Today was no exception. Yuri found himself looking up at the ceiling lights earlier than usual. His back was throbbing.
"That won't get you to the Olympics!" Yakov roared. "Do it again!" Yuri pulled himself to his feet and after two more attempts, he completed the sequence cleanly.
Finally!
Yakov wasn't satisfied. He never was. "The combination now." Yuri bit his lip. This was the hardest part of the program and because of the angle at which he had to take off, it was at times, terrifying. Yuri set up for his jump but misjudged the amount of momentum it would take to complete the second jump. He came down hard on his side, getting the wind knocked out of him. Again. This time his toepick didn't catch at the right time sending him onto his back before the first jump was even finished. Again. He could feel it was wrong the second after he took off. He was coming down and hard.
Shit.
The momentum threw his upper body back. His head hit the ice with the sound of a door slamming. Everyone siding rinkside, including his teammates and Victor, shot to their feet. Yuri couldn't control the sound that escaped his lips. He cried out, putting a hand to his forehead. His knee bent, bracing against the waves of pain that radiated out of his skull. His other fist slammed against the ice.
"Dammit!" He hissed. Yakov was at his side in an instant.
"Yuri-"
"I'm alright," Yuri said through grit teeth. He pushed himself up on his elbows.
Fuck this hurts.
"Stay down," Yakov said, he put a hand on his student's shoulder.
"I said I'm fine," Yuri huffed. He climbed onto all fours and hastily got his feet beneath him. The pain increased. Yuri fought the desire to curl up and cry.
"Go sit down. You're done," Yakov said, pointing at the bleachers.
"My practice isn't over."
"Now." Yakov's voice was raised to the point that it only added the pain in Yuri's head. He cursed under his breath and skated over to the exit. He slouched onto the bench and ripped his skates off throwing them in a pile with the rest of his stuff. He didn't notice Victor sitting next to him until an ice pack was pushed into his hands. Yuri took it and pressed it to the lump on the back of his head with a wince.
"You'll end up killing yourself if you keep landing like that," Victor said. He looked at the teenager in front of him with visible concern.
"Wow. Thanks for your valuable insight." Yuri's head was making his stomach queasy. "I don't know what I'm doing wrong!" He leaned over and braced his elbow on his knee. He used his free hand to rub his eyes, which were beginning to water.
"You just have to keep your weight balanced in between. You're not landing ready and it's throwing off the whole combination," Victor said. "Here." Victor held out his phone which was opened to a video clip of Yuri's jump practice.
"You recorded it?" Yuri asked in disbelief.
"Watch your core after the first jump." Yuri dropped the ice pack without thinking. He held the phone in both hands, slowing down the video so he could watch it frame by frame. Victor picked up the ice pack and held it against the back of Yuri's head. The teen was too invested in the video to notice or care. Yuri's eyes flickered over the screen.
Damn… he's right.
Yuri put the phone on the bench and put his head in his hands releasing a sound of pure frustration.
"Rooky mistake. I should have gotten it," he said mostly to himself. Victor peeled the ice away from Yuri's head and pushed his hair away to examine the knot that was forming.
"Ouch! Cut it out!" Yuri slapped his hand away.
"You're going to have to get a once over at the urgent care clinic; rink policy."
"I know what the policy is," Yuri muttered, turning away from the older skater. He was silently praying it wasn't a concussion. Something like that would take him off the ice for weeks. "Stupid…" He muttered, rubbing his temples. Footsteps approached and Yuri could feel Victor hop off of the bench.
"Yuuri!" The man chirped in greeting.
"Hi Victor, Yurio," the Japanese man said. He took notice to how Yuri was slumped over, and the discarded ice pack. "Are you ok?" He asked. Yuri grunted in response, not even bothering to look up.
"Fell on the combination," Victor explained.
"Oh-" Yuuri said. It was no secret that combination had been giving him trouble. "You're going to need to get your head checked. Do you need a ride?" Yuri could hear the pity dripping off of the piggy's voice.
"I can manage," Yuri said. He pulled on his jacket and flipped up the hood. He gathered his things and walked over to Yakov's office. Normally an injured skater would be picked up by a parent or friend and a doctor's note would have to be returned to the office in order for them to skate. Unfortunately, Yuri didn't have that luxury. Friends… A family… He waited for an inpatient Lilia to pick him up. She was concerned not for Yuri the person, but Yuri the Grand Prix gold medalist. The only Yuri anyone seemed to care about anymore. The ride to the clinic was filled with Lilia chastising him for not being more careful, for not being able to land a jump he'd spent the last season perfecting. Yuri sat silently in the waiting room and stayed silent as the doctor shined the penlight in his eyes.
"No sign of a concussion." With those words, Yuri let out the breath he'd been holding. He was given the orders to take it easy the rest of the day and a prescription of Advil and ice.
Lilia dropped him off at his apartment. He unlocked the door and stepped inside. It was silent, empty. Lapa, his cat, had died before he moved back in. He planned to get another cat but his practice schedule had other ideas. The apartment was nothing impressive. Two bedrooms, a single bathroom, a small kitchen and a patch of carpet that could be called a sitting area. Or in Yuri's case the patch of bare carpet where he stretched. He didn't bother to make food, just popped a couple Advil and laid down on his carpet square. He went on his phone, scrolling through Instagram. Nothing was really caught his eye until a notification from Otabek popped up.
Yuri opened it quickly prepared for whatever had put his friend in a bad mood.
'I need a break'
Yuri almost dropped his phone. His breath caught in his throat. It felt like a bucket of ice water had been pumped into his stomach.
"What?" Yuri said allowed. He read the message over and over again trying to piece together an explanation.
A break from me? A break from us?
What did that even mean? Yuri didn't have many friends, he has one. Had one.
No, no, come on Beka….
Yuri's mind was spinning. He felt like he was on a roller coaster. He rolled onto his back running through their conversations from the past month. Sure, Beka had seemed more distant than usual but that was because they were busy with skating. Wasn't it? Yuri grabbed his phone to type out a reply when a voice in his head stopped him.
He wants a break.
He laid there for a good chunk of the afternoon. When looking for the point where he screwed everything up became too frustrating, he got to his feet. He grabbed his bag and keys and walked out of his dinky apartment slamming the door behind him.
He walked to the rink which took almost an hour because of the traffic. He arrived and silently walked in hoping not to be noticed. He dropped his doctor's note in the main office and walked over to the gym. Well, they referred to it as the gym it was really just a side room with a few pieces of exercise equipment. Yuri started on core, planking and doing crunches until his entire body shook with fatigue. The door opened and Victor and Yuuri stepped inside. They walked as if they were joined at the hip. Their chatting stopped upon seeing Yuri.
"You're back already?" Victor's face was lit up with some sort of odd curiosity.
"What did the doctor say?" Yuuri asked.
"Not a concussion," Yuri grunted in between sit-ups.
"That's a relief," Yuuri said, "I can't believe coach Feltsman sent you here so soon after a head injury."
"He didn't send me. He doesn't even know I'm here." Yuri rolled over into a side plank. "And if you tell him I'll kill you," he added. Yuuri looked unnerved but Victor shook off the comment with a signature smile. He led Yuuri over the other side of the room and much to Yuri's dismay he began to help Yuuri stretch. The black haired man was blushing like crazy as Victor pushed his legs further and further apart.
"That hurts," Yuuri warned as the stretch progressed.
"Good," Victor purred. Yuri scoffed,
"How many times do I have to tell you not to act like that in front of me? It's disgusting!" Yuri flopped into a seated position. His head was throbbing.
"Act like what?" Victor asked with a devilish grin. Yuuri slapped his arm. Yuri pressed his fingers against his left eye socket. The other two continued to talk. After they were done they walked over and stood in front of Yuri who was still trying to ease the pain in his temples.
"So will you?" Yuuri asked. Yuri looked up confused.
"What?"
"Join us…?" Yuuri trailed off, squinting at the spaced out skater.
"For dinner," Victor added. Yuri looked between them. Apparently, the conversation they had been having was supposed to include him.
"No thanks, I'll pass." He'd be lying if he said they didn't look disappointed.
"Ok… next time," Yuuri said. Yuri nodded. He snuck out while they packed up their stuff.
They don't actually want me there anyway. They just feel sorry for me.
Yuri took the bus home. He stared out the window and tried not to think about Beka and the time he had saved Yuri from his fans, the time they spent practicing welcome to the madness, the time they stayed up all night talking…. Yeah, he was definitely not thinking about that. Yuri made a can of soup for dinner and chased it with more Advil. He hated how quiet it got at night so he put on one of his more mellow playlists. His evening was spent wandering around the apartment. Washing his single dish, putting a load in the laundry, watching it spin, folding it and putting it away. He thought about whatever meal Yuuri and Victor would be having. Yuuri can only cook like two things and Victor, well, Victor was great at ordering takeout. The thought of them sitting across from one another at the table, probably eating Italian takeout, fluttered in his mind. After dinner, the two would probably retire on to one of their many couches with their big dumb dog and watch a movie. They'd fight about the language of the subtitles. Katsudon would win. And then they'd go to bed. Maybe they slept together, but with them no one really knows for sure. Either way, at least they weren't alone. Alone. Yuri shook the thoughts from his head. He hated how hollow it made him feel. He wasn't jealous of them. Never. He laid in bed only to find his stomach was doing back flops.
What the hell did I do?
He reached for his phone and then stopped himself. He rolled around, hugging his pillow to his chest.
When did everything fall apart?
Yuri wracked his mind but he had no clue. Absolutely no clue what would have caused this rift with Otabek. The night moved on and suddenly it was three am. Yuri stared at the digital clock on his nightstand hoping that by some miracle he would fall asleep. When three thirty rolled around he gave up.
'I know I'm breaking radio silence…. I can't sleep. I want to give you space but the guilt is killing me. What did I do? Maybe I'm just an idiot and it's obvious- scratch that I'm definitely an idiot. Beka, I'd never intentionally hurt you. You know that. I'm sorry.'
Yuri closed his eyes, his chest felt somewhat lighter after he sent it. At least now he might get some closure. If things were ending between him and Beka he needed a reason. He needed something that made sense. He drifted off into a shallow sleep.
/
It felt like only seconds had passed when his alarm went off. His heart began to pound when he turned to check his phone. Nothing. Yuri couldn't tell if he was relieved or more anxious. He laid there for a while.
Beka has to be awake by now… maybe he'll respond.
Eventually, Yuri had to get up. He was going to be late but he didn't care. He took his time getting ready. By the time he was sitting in his own personal Hell on wheels Yakov was already texting him. The corners of his mouth turned up in the echo of a smile as he read the message. It was a small act of defiance- being 10 minutes late- but it was something. He should have cared. This was his career! He had a title to defend! But he didn't.
He went through the motions at practice. He ran through cleanly- or at least cleanly enough. Yakov didn't ask for the combination which was a bit annoying. Yuri stopped for water and Yakov loomed ominously near him. Yuri gave him a side eye but the older man didn't say anything. Eventually, Yuri broke the silence.
"What?" He said with an irritated bite to his voice.
"I'm cutting the combination. We'll replace it with a triple salchow instead." Yuri dropped his water bottle. Anger bubbled inside him.
"Like hell we are! The combination stays."
"You can't do it, Yuri, the safest option is to get rid of it."
Yuri scoffed.
"You didn't even give me a chance to get it right!" Yuri's voice was rising.
"I gave you plenty!" Yakov thundered back.
"You wouldn't change the choreography if it was Victor's." Yuri's fingernails dug into his palms.
"You're not Victor!"
"You're right I beat him! I beat his record!" Yuri howled. Yakov's eyes narrowed.
"The combination is out. Nonnegotiable."
Yuri let out a cry.
"Screw you!"" He stepped off the ice and yanked off his skates.
"Yuri-" Yakov started but Yuri was already on his way to the locker room. He ran into Mila and pushed past her harshly.
"Out of the way baba," he growled. He turned on the shower as hot as it would go and stood under the stream.
He doesn't think I can do it? I know I can. Victor's free skate has a higher technical now. I needed that combination.
Yuri's chest felt tight. His eyes burned and without anyway of stopping it his anger poured out through tears. He ran his face under the water until the sobs stopped racking his frame. Once his eyes were clear and his breathing was steady he dried off and got shower helped clear his head and he returned for his things.
There was a corner near the base of the bleachers that was partially hidden by a wall. It was Yuri's favorite place to tuck away in between practices. He watched lazily as Georgie practiced his short program.
It's about a girl. Big surprise.
Yuri heard his phone vibrate in his bag and he reached for it without pausing for a breath.
Beka.
'Yuri-'
He froze.
Yuri not Yura.
'-You weren't there. I tried to confide in you and you shrugged it off. It's your nature, you're selfish. It's what makes you a damn good figure skater but not so much a good friend. I know you didn't intend harm. I care about you Yuri, but I need some time to sort things out.'
Yuri's heart stuttered. He tried to recall the event Otabek was referring to.
Confide in me? When… fuck.
He felt like garbage. How could he not remember Beka trying to tell him something important? More importantly, how could he have ignored him? It felt as if a swarm of birds was tearing around in his stomach. He stared at the message rereading it.
Selfish. It's your nature.
Yuri swallowed the lump that sat in his throat. His thumbs hovered over his keyboard.
I can't fix this…
The realization made his chest ache. He shoved his phone deep into his gym bag and began pacing.
"Yuri." Yakov's voice caused his teeth to dig into his tongue.
Not now old man.
Yuri turned to face him. Yakov was stepping out of his session with Georgie. "If you are determined to keep the combination then that might be able to be arranged." Yuri's eyes narrowed.
"What changed your mind?"
"You were right. I shouldn't have doubted your ability."
"No," Yuri said.
What's the real reason?
"If you must know I spoke with Victor. He seems to think you're about to get it and watching the film I agree." Yuri's blood boiled.
Victor. Of course.
"Forget it," Yuri mumbled. He pushed past his coach, shoulder checking him on the way to the door.
"Where are you going?" Yakov asked after him.
"Anywhere but here," Yuri ground out.
"Don't be a child. I'm letting you do the combination isn't that what you wanted?" Yakov was fed up. Yuri felt his eyes water and gnawed the inside of his cheek to lessen the burning in his chest.
"I don't care about the combination! I don't care about any of it!" He barked. Yakov's eyes narrowed at the temper tantrum. Yuri stormed away from him.
"You better be on time for Lilia!" Yakov called after him.
"Maybe," Yuri said drily as he pushed open the doors.
The weather was too perfect. It didn't satisfy Yuri's craving for chaos. He was halfway to the bus stop when he stopped walking. He didn't want to go back to the apartment. He didn't want to get food. He didn't want to stay in the middle of the sidewalk either. Shoving his hands in his pockets Yuri felt his wallet and keys. His phone, he remembered, was in his bag; the bag he left at the rink. It was oddly satisfying. His phone no longer sat like a boulder in his pocket. He was free. He crossed the street and just started forward. The street he was walking on was a busy city road, one you should definitely be careful on. Yuri decided to balance on the curb. Wind would push against him every time a car passed. It made him feel alive.
Yuri ended up outside Lilia's studio. He wasn't sure if that's what he meant to do but he was relieved to be a few minutes early.
Wouldn't want to be selfish and waste her time.
Yuri didn't particularly care for the studio. It was always noisy and at the same time while there you were expected to be completely silent. He had a locker where he kept his ballet flats and a change of clothes. When he was ready and warmed up Lilia walked in. She walked like she had a stick up her ass but then again that was what she was like all the time.
/
Yuri gripped the bar panting.
Ok definitely a stick up her ass.
Lilia was pushing him harder than usual. Faster, higher, stretch farther.
"I didn't hear a bone snap- keep going!" Yuri groaned and pushed himself back into the choreography of his short program. "I'm not feeling the loss Yuri! You have to make the audience understand the pain." Yuri rolled his eyes.
I'm doing the choreography lay off.
"Stop." Lilia said, she put a hand to her forehead. "Haven't you ever lost something Yuri?" Lost someone?"
Yuri looked at the floor.
Beka...
"No." He mumbled. Lilia sighed.
"There's a reason I thought this would be a good program for you. It's not easy to express these emotions in a believable way," she pursed her lips, " Yuri your family-"
"Shut up," Yuri snapped, glaring at her.
"I'm just saying, in regards to your mother…"
"You don't know anything about my mother," Yuri growled. Lilia threw her hands up.
"Fine. Focus on whatever you want but if it's not believable you will never win."
I was never going to win in the first place. Not if Nikiforov is back on the ice.
/
Yuri stumbled out of the dance studio on shaky legs. His muscles quivered and his head was aching. He needed food, water, and sleep. He got on the bus, not happy about it, unable to track the miles back to the apartment. The upholstery smelled like feet. Yuri stared out the window watching the city pass him by. The light turned red as they approached. Yuri watched the cars coming wildly from the sides.
Don't stop.
The bus huffed and puffed as it slowed down. Yuri sighed as they sat at the intersection. His stop finally arrived and he hopped down the large steps onto the sidewalk. He walked up the stairs of his apartment building like a zombie. He didn't have his phone with him and for the first time he missed having something to look at other than the plain walls that surrounded him. No phone ment no music. No music meant silence. He scanned his cupboards and refrigerator which were mostly bare. As hungry as he had been on the bus ride home now his stomach felt like it was filled with water. He felt like his organs were sloshing around inside him, there was no way he could eat like that.
Yuri settled for a shower. He washed the sweat off of his body and out of his hair. His chest was still aching long after the rest of his soreness was eased away by the scalding water. After a socially unacceptable amount of time had passed and the water had long been just barely warm, he stepped out of the shower and dried off. He turned on all of the lights trying to fill the emptiness. He could have watched Netflix or something on his laptop, except for the fact that he had no clue where it was and no desire to look for it. He was on break so he didn't need it for school work and the only other reason he used it was to Skype Beka which…. Well, he wouldn't need it for that either. Yuri sat with his back against the headboard. His bedroom door was open and from where he was sitting the closed door on the other side of the hall peered at him errily. That bedroom was essentially a spare. No one had ever slept in it. Technically it was his mother's room, but she hadn't been in the apartment since the day she signed the lease. It didn't really bother him. Yuri was used to it, his mother had traveled for work for as long as he had been alive. He grew up in his grandfather's cottage but when the opportunity came to train with Yakov, he couldn't pass it up. Every month a signed check came in the mail; as time passed he noticed the only aspect of his mother he knew was her handwriting. Yuri got up and closed his door.
He left the lights on that night. Laying in bed his mind went back to the text he had received earlier.
I don't blame him. He deserves better than me.
Yuri felt tears prick the corners of his eyes. They trickled down the sides of his face and onto the pillow.
I should have paid more attention… live and learn I guess.
He rolled onto his side, looking out the window at the dusky night sky.
I'm better at this anyway, being alone. I'll be fine. I always am. I was fine before Beka and I'll be fine after.
More tears ran over his face. He spilled his soul onto the sheets beneath him. It didn't make him feel better to cry, which he thought was unfair. What's the point then?
What's the point of any of it?
/
Yuri was late again the next morning. So late in fact that he missed the bus. He arrived at the rink and his scheduled practice window had long passed.
"Yurio!" He was bombarded the instant he walked into the door.
"What do you want Katsudon?" Yuri said wearily.
"Where have you been? Yuuri demanded. Yuri shrugged. "You missed practice." Yuuri's tone was strict.
"So? What's the big deal it's one day." Yuri tried to walk past him. Yuuri had his arms crossed over his chest. "Look I'll work extra hard this afternoon and make up for it!" His sarcasm cut through the air like a knife.
"That's not the point. You didn't tell anyone, you didn't call."
"I forgot my-"
"Phone?" Yuuri said, holding up Yuri's cell phone. Yuri reached for it but Yuuri pulled it away.
"What the hell Piggy! Give me my phone."
"It's not like you to leave it." Yuuri looked at him with concern. Yuri shoved his hands in his pockets uncomfortable with the attention.
"What do you want from me?" He asked quietly.
"Come to dinner," Yuuri said. He trailed his eyes over Yuri's sharp features, the puffy bags under his eyes, and the way his clothes were just thrown on. Yuri scoffed. "If you want your phone back you have to agree."
"Or I could tear it out of your hands," Yuri sneered. Yuuri cocked his head to the side and held the phone farther away. "Fine. I'll go to dinner," Yuri said with an eyeroll. Yuuri smiled at him and handed over the cell phone.
"Victor is done at six, he'll drive you back to our apartment." Yuuri left with a disgusting smile plastered to his disgusting face. Yuri pulled up the collar of his jacket and checked his phone. There were many messages from Yakov, he was pissed, but nothing from Otabek.
I knew he wasn't going to text me. It was stupid to get my hopes up.
Yuri stuck his phone in his pocket and went to the locker room to change.
/
Yakov had Yuri practice the combination for well over an hour. There weren't any more bad falls, thank God, but he still couldn't land it cleanly. Victor had positioned himself along the railing. Yuri so badly wanted to get it right while he was watching. He wanted to show Victor that he was a real competitor. Yuri setup again.
Watch the core, be ready to jump on the landing.
He landed the first jump and then the second. He stood there for a second, in shock that he was still on his feet.
"Good Yuratchka!' Yakov said in a rare display of praise.
I did it.
Yuri waited to feel the excitement or at least relief but he just felt tired. Victor skated out to them with a smile on his face. Yuri leaned over with his hands on his knees out of breath. Victor thumped him on the back.
"Good job Yurio!" Yuri's legs were shaking.
I probably should have eaten something before practice, he thought as his knees gave out under him. "Whoa, easy," Victor scooped him up by his arm, looping an arm around his waist for support.
"Alright," Yakov said, eyeing the exhausted skater. "That's enough for today, good work Yura. Victor-" Yakov motioned to the gate. Victor tightened his grip and Yuri felt them gliding towards the exit. "And Yuri," Yakov called after them, "if you're not on time tomorrow I'm bumping my coaches fee up 80%." Yuri nodded with half lidded eyes.
"I knew you had it in you," Victor chirped. Yuri attempted to pull away.
"I can skate by myself," he protested.
"Now that you've done it once, you'll have no problem perfecting it." Victor ignored all of Yuri's protests and refused to release his grip until Yuri was sat on the bench. Yuri picked up his water bottle and took a long swig. He was shaky and the bottle trembled with him. "Looks like you could use some food," Victor mused. He reached into Yuuri's bag and produced a protein bar. "Here, he won't mind." Yuri accepted the snack his stomach was growling audibly.
"Where is Katsudon?" Yuri asked, he pulled on his jacket.
"Probably jogging laps outside the building," Victor said. Yuri unlaced his skated and winced at the blood stains on his socks.
Blisters will be the death of me.
"He knows we have treadmills inside right?" Victor shrugged and brushed the hair out of his eyes.
"I'll be done in about an hour and a half then we can go and get some real food in you. I hope you like Italian!" Victor stepped out onto the ice to warm up. Yuri smirked.
Italian. I fucking called it.
/
"Yurio," a voice called, accompanied by a hand shaking his shoulder. Yuri hummed and pushed the hand away. "Wake up. You're drooling on my coat." Yuri opened his eyes and found himself sprawled out on the bench. Victor was standing over him with messy, sweaty hair. He sat up slowly and Victor picked up his jacket, the one Yuri had been using as a pillow. "Have you been getting enough sleep?" Victor asked casually as he put his skates in his bag. Yuri shrugged and stood as well, pulling the straps on his gym bag over his shoulders. He followed Victor out into the parking lot.
"You can't be serious," Yuri deadpanned looking at the hot pink convertible. They climbed inside and Yuri tipped his head back against the seat; he had to turn his head to avoid the still tender bump.
"How's your head?" Victor asked pulling out of the parking lot.
"Fine until you started talking." Victor chuckled and picked a travel size bottle of Advil out of one of the cupholders and tossed it in Yuri's direction. Yuri muttered a thanks and shook two pills into his hand.
"You should drink more water too."
"Ok dad," Yuri sneered. He turned so he could rest his head on the window. Yuri was zoning out when Victor turned on the radio to a popular pop station. The music was bad enough but then Victor started to sing along.
"Victor I swear to God I'm going to jump out of the window," Yuri shouted over the music. Victor just turned it up louder.
When they walked into the apartment Yuri was knocked to the ground by a big ball of fur. "Get off me Makka," Yuri said, pushing the poodle out of his lap. His face was sticky with dog slobber.
"Yuuri we're home," Victor said, stepping out of the entry way and into the kitchen. Their apartment was a lot bigger than Yuri's and it had actual furniture in it and like… pictures hanging on the walls. He followed Victor around the corner, making sure to kick his shoes off at the door.
"Perfect, the food just got here so it's still hot," Yuuri said, smiling at them warmly as he put plates out on the table. They sat down around the table which was covered in food. Yuri's mouth watered looking at it. Yuuri and Victor did most of the talking at dinner. Yuri ate quietly adding only briefly to the conversation. He felt like he was watching the whole event from afar. All of them sitting around a table, eating and talking, like some kind of family. It made his stomach hurt. Victor spent most of the night with his hand on Yuuri's leg. Yuri set his fork down with half of the food still on his plate.
They're so happy together.
Yuri felt a bitterness grow in his core.
"So Yurio how have you been? We hardly see you anymore,' Yuuri asked.
"You see me every day," Yuri replied drily.
"Not really. You always rush off after practice." By this point, Victor had gotten out a bottle of wine and although Yuuri insisted he didn't want any, he'd drunk all of Victor's first glass and half of his second. "We miss you," Yuuri all but slurred.
Yuri grit his teeth.
"Are you drunk off a glass and a half of wine? Freaking lightweight." Yuri crossed his arms and bounced his leg. He felt anxious off of a sudden like the walls were closing in. "I should go," he said getting to his feet.
"Come on Yurio, stay a while longer," Victor said. His arm looped around Yuuri's shoulders pulling him close. Yuri felt the table grow longer distancing them. "We can watch a movie or play cards." Yuri stared at Victor's hand, at the way this thumb was rubbing circles on Yuuri's shoulder. The piggy was melting under the contact. Yuri felt an all too familiar prickling in the corners of his eyes. "I'm tired." Victor sighed but got up from his chair.
"Ok, I'll drive you home."
"I can walk." Yuri had to get out. He couldn't breathe here.
"Don't be ridiculous it will take me five minutes," Victor said, he pulled car keys out of the dish on the counter.
Even the keys have their own fucking container.
"I want to walk. Besides, your car is embarrassing."
"Yura?" Victor questioned him. The blond teenager was clearly unsettled by something. Yuri walked to the hall and shoved his feet into his shoes.
"Thanks for dinner."
Yuri jogged down the buildings stairs and onto the sidewalk. His jog turned into a run and his run a sprint.
Stupid apartment. Stupid dog and picture frames and couches.
Tears slipped down his cheeks and he pretended it was the wind.
Stupid takeout food and silverware.
Yuri ran along with traffic the headlights of the cars passing him painted his shadow on the asphalt.
He tripped over a crack and was sent sprawling onto the ground. The pain from his scratched up palms seemed to pull him back to reality. He pulled himself to his feet and took a deep breath.
I'm never going to have any of that.
His chest constricted painfully. The prospects of going back to an empty room was enough to make him want to rip his hair out. He turned and headed into the tunnel that led home. It wasn't lit properly and at night drivers either had to turn on their brights or pray to high heaven they wouldn't hit anything. Usually both. Yuri glanced up and realized he couldn't see the exit. He walked a little farther and when he looked back he couldn't see where he'd come in. He should have been afraid but he wasn't. He could see a few feet in front of him and that was it. It was almost surreal. He looked above him at the useless orange lights that flickered like candle flames. He stepped away from the wall and into the middle of the tunnel. His sneakers crunched on gravel and broken glass. His breathing echoed off the walls. He stood there for no other reason than he didn't want to move any further. He could hear it coming before he saw it. The sound of a car radiated off the walls around him. Surrounding him. When the headlights came into view he stared at them with a strange fixation. The light seemed to spread out, reaching in all directions in long streams. It was so bright. These two orbs of light got larger the closer the car came. They were almost big enough to swallow him whole. The sound of the horn brought him back. Tires screeched and Yuri noticed he could see into the car. He could see the drivers terrified eyes. He took a step to the left and the car zipped past him. His heart was pounding. Adrenaline coursed through his veins making him forget, forget about the pain and the envie. He laughed out loud turning to see if anyone was there to witness. No one was.
By the time he closed his apartment door behind him the high had worn off. It was replaced with a deep and pulsing hatred. Hatred for himself and what he had just done.
I stepped in front of a fucking car!
He sprinted into the bathroom and threw up everything he had eaten earlier.
I almost died. I wanted- I… No.
He sunk onto the tile floor and pulled at his hair. He thought about what would have happened if he was a second slower. They would take his body to the hospital and everyone would be called. Yakov would scream and Lilia would cry. They would mourn the loss of their champion. Mila would get drunk and probably stay drunk for a long time. Victor would flee and Katsudon would go with him. And they would tell the world. And they would plan a funeral. Yuri's body shook with the sobs that tore through him. But eventually, Yakov would train someone else and they would find another champion, maybe one who would actually listen. Lilia would go back to her studio. Mila would sober up and throw her arms around the first boy to catch her eye. Victor and Katsudon would have each other. Always. After the initial blow everyone would move on. Everyone would be fine.
There's nothing tying me here. There's no one here that needs me.
In that moment Yuri had never felt more empty. Would anyone even notice? If he got on the next train and just never came back. Would anyone care? Yuri pulled himself up and looked at himself in the mirror. He didn't recognize the face that looked back at him. He had lost himself.
Yuri pulled his phone out of his pocket and without thinking opened Otabek's contact.
He's the only person. I need him.
He sent a single message.
'Beka please'
But it was never read.
He doesn't need me.
Yuri laid on his bathroom floor hoping that he would melt into the cracks in the tile.
I don't want to die, he thought staring at the light on the ceiling. I just want to disappear.
/
Yuri was on time the next day. He sat in the same seat on the same bus. He got off at the same stop and walked the same path on the sidewalk. He put his bag in the same locker and skated on the same ice to the same music. This was his life. After practice he knocked on Yakov's office door.
"What is is Yuri?" Yakov asked, he was filling out paperwork.
"I want the weekend off." Yakov looked up from his desk. His eyes looked over his student, lingering on Yuri's dull eyes.
"Why?"
"I want to go home, to Moscow." Yuri's tone was subdued almost somber.
"Yura, this is the height of your career. Taking time off..."
"I know," Yuri seemed to fade. "But I-" his voice broke ever so slightly. "I need to go." Yakov leaned back in his chair. Yuri wasn't himself. How long has he been like this? Yakov thought. He looked at the teenager in front of him and remembered that he was just that, a kid. A kid who lived nine hours away from the only family he had left.
"Just the weekend?" Yakov asked. Yuri looked at him wide eyed, surprised he managed to get this far.
"I'll be back Monday morning."
"Alright. Make sure you call when you get there." Yuri light up and for the first time all day he resembled his old self.
"I will. Thank you."
Yuri packed his bag the second he got to the apartment. It was like breathing air for the first time all day when he locked the door behind him. Victor met him outside the building with his bright pink car. They passed the bus on their way to the train station.
"Do you need me to pick you up Sunday night?"
"No. I can manage," Yuri replied.
I'll be better by then.
/
His grandfather's cottage always smelled like apples and cigars. The fireplace was never lacking a flame and the air was always warm. Yuri melted into the old leather couch letting the cushions consume him. Nikolai returned to the room with one cup of coffee and one cup of hot chocolate, a force of habit.
"I'm glad you're here Yura," he said, handing his grandson the warm mug. "Although it did surprise me when you called. Is everything alright?"
No.
"I had the weekend off. Is it a crime that I wanted to see you?"
"Of course not," the older man said with a smile. "I'll never turn down an opportunity to see you even if it's just for a day." Yuri's chest felt warm and he knew then he had made the right decision coming here. Nikolai turned on the old TV set and put on a black and white movie. Yuri pulled a knitted blanket onto his lap and they sat in a comfortable silence. The evening was spend in front of the fire. Yuri felt at peace. He felt loved.
I have something here. I have someone.
Yuri never wanted to leave. His chest was free of any anxiety and the voices in his mind were quiet. He was safe. Yuri wasn't paying attention to the movie he listened to the gentle, old-timey dialogue and trailed his fingers over the scratches in the worn leather. The house cat Kuzma was napping on the windowsill. That cat was older than Yuri and still going strong. It was thought that Kuzma was actually immortal, considering all the times Yuri had accidentally stepped on him when he was a child. Yuri dozed lightly on the couch listening to the sounds of the crackling fire. It was the sound of the TV clicking off an hour or so later that jarred him awake.
"Yura it's getting late. I know I'm tired and I didn't even sit on a train for nine hours. Your room is exactly how you left it." Nikolai got up from his chair with a grunt and shuffled into the kitchen to rinse his mug. Yuri got up and walked down the hall towards his childhood bedroom. He left the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. The old man walked past him on his way down the hall. Nikolai paused, ruffling Yuri's hair.
"Good night Yura, sleep well."
"Good night," Yuri returned. He pushed open the door and stood in the doorway for a moment. It was the smell that he noticed first. It was hard to explain, slightly musty from being closed up so long but it was still the smell of his room. His home. Kuzma ran in first, darting between Yuri's legs. Yuri stepped inside and flicked on the light.
It's all here…
His eyes trailed over the purple quilt that laid over his bed. He walked over to it and sat down. The walls were covered with posters and ribbons from first skating competitions. One of the posters, Yuri noted with a chuckle, was of Yakov. Yuri's eyes lingered on the faded photo of his coach. Yakov was much younger and stood on the Olympic podium sporting a gold medal and a full head of hair. Yuri looked over at the nightstand. Next to his lamp was a framed picture of himself as a toddler in the arms of a young woman.
Mama
Yuri picked up the frame and brushed the dust off of the glass. This was the only picture he had of them together. He could remember spending years staring at it as he fell asleep. Looking at it again Yuri's heart thumped. He stood up and walked over to the closet door. Inside were boxes of clothes he didn't take with him to St. Petersburg, clothes that would only fit an eleven year old. On the back wall his first pair of ice skates hung on a nail. He could have fit both in one hand. Next to those hung his mother's last pair worn from hours and hours of wear. Yuri closed the closet door. He had the strange feeling that he was intruding. He moved back to the bed turning the light off on his way. He laid on his back and a smile stretched across his face. Hundreds of glow in the dark star stickers littered the ceiling. He'd forgotten about those. Kuzma hopped onto the bed and curled up on Yuri's stomach purring softly. The cat treated him as if he had been gone for a weekend and not five years. Yuri laced his fingers in his soft fur.
Why can't it always be like this? Like it was before?
Yuri closed his eyes and let the rhythmic patter of Kuzma's heartbeat on his stomach lull him to sleep. He wanted to go back in time. He wanted to be preserved in this moment, in this bedroom, forever.
He woke up in the morning with Kuzma's sharp claws digging into his thighs as the cat stretched. His tail brushed Yuri's face and Yuri swatted it away. Light came in through the single window. Because of the curtains, the room had a warm glow. He petted along Kuzma's back.
"Lay down dummy," he whispered. The cat settled like a hot water bottle on Yuri's stomach. Yuri continued to pet him absentmindedly. It made him miss Lapa. Yuri jumped at the sound of harsh coughing. He jumped out of bed and ran into the kitchen. Kuzma, who had been thrown to the floor, hissed at him. Nikolai was holding to the edge of the counter coughing into his elbow.
"Grandpa are you ok?" Nikolai nodded and after what felt like an eternity the coughing subsided. He cleared his throat and reached over and picked up a pill bottle. Yuri looked at the counter and noticed there were many of the same type of bottles. "What's all this for?" He asked, a seed of fear planted itself in his stomach. Nikolai chuckled at him,
"I'm an old man Yuri. Medication comes with the territory." Yuri didn't fail to notice the way his grandpa patted his chest.
"Your heart?" Yuri asked. He picked up one of the bottles and tried to make sense of the medication name.
"You don't have to worry, I'm doing great. It's just precautionary. Yuri set down the bottle feeling no more at ease. He reached over and poured himself a cup of coffee. Nikolai looked at him strangely, "You've grown up." Yuri sipped the warm drink.
Unfortunately.
"It's just one cup." Nikolai sat across from him reading an actual newspaper and eating a bagel. Yuri picked up the box of cereal that was sitting on the table and started munching on it dry.
"I was thinking we could spend the afternoon in town and get some lunch at the cafe." Yuri didn't have to ask which cafe, there was only one. Yuri nodded and shoved a handful of cereal into his mouth.
They enjoyed the lazy Saturday morning. Yuri went outside and sat on the hill behind the house.
It's smaller than I remember.
In fact, everything seemed smaller. The cottage itself carved out a section of the Russian countryside. The grass was long and dry. There used to be a small garden behind the house but that was abandoned long ago. The tree that ruled the top of this hill was missing it's tire swing and the paint on the back porch was peeling.
Grandpa's alone too.
Yuri felt guilty for that. He was the son of an unmarried woman. No siblings and no cousins.
Maybe I should come home for good. No one in St. Petersburg needs me, but maybe Grandpa does.
Yuri was called inside before he could explore the thought any further. He was ushered into Nikolai's old truck. They drove the fifteen minutes it took to get to town with Russian folk music playing in the background. The first thing Yuri noticed was the unusually large amount of people bustling around.
"Is there a festival coming up or something?" Yuri asked.
"No, they put in a factory nearby a few years ago. More and more people moved here for work."
"Here?" Yuri asked.
To possibly the world's smallest village in the middle of nowhere?
As he thought it he looked around. New shops and stores speckled the streets. There was a movie theater and more than a few apartment buildings.
"Well this is… different," Yuri said. They pulled into the parking lot of the familiar cafe. When they walked inside the entire room turned to greet Nikolai. Two older men walked over to them.
"Kolai, you didn't mention your grandson was visiting." Yuri looked at the strangers uncomfortably.
Am I supposed to know who they are?
"It was a surprise to me too," Nikolai replied putting a hand on Yuri's shoulder.
"I hope this doesn't change our poker plans for tomorrow night," The other man said with a humorous stirn look.
"Don't worry Andrei, You'll still have a chance to lose your money. Yuri is leaving in the afternoon."
"Oh well that's a shame," Andrei said. The three men continued to chat. Yuri looked between them with a strange look on his face.
Grandpa has friends? Since when?
Yuri couldn't help but notice his grandfather, an old man who lived in his recliner, had more friends than he did.
They sat down in a booth and ordered sandwiches. Yuri took notice to the handful of pills Nikolai took with his turkey on rye. Nikolai talked about the weekly poker matches he played in with a group of friends.
"Andrei's been losing to me since we were in high school." Yuri smiled.
It's nice to know he's not alone.
Nikolai went on, "Ivann is a cheat but his wife makes excellent Churchkhela."
"I had no idea you were so popular," Yuri said. He sipped his drink and munched half heartedly on his lunch.
"Well…" Nikolai trailed off. "I'm just glad you got to meet them. I think they were beginning to think I made up the fact that I have a national champion in the family." Yuri smiled and let out a breathy laugh.
National champion? Not for very much longer.
They finished their meal and walked around the block to the little duck pond in the center of town. It was one of Yuri's favorite places as a child, especially in the winter when it froze. You weren't really supposed to let your small children skate on the frozen duck pond but that never stopped them. Yuri leaned over the railing and caught a glimpse of his reflection in the water. His eyes were still dull and unfamiliar to him.
Being home was supposed to fix this. Fix everything.
Yuri felt a familiar numbness return to his chest. It cascaded down his arms and into his fingertips. Nothing stays the same, he realized. And there's no going back to the way things were.
Yuri spent his last evening with his grandfather the same way they had the night before. Yuri was swept up in this mundane lifestyle. Home cooked meals and old fashioned movies distracted him from the hole in his lungs, the one that leaked oxygen and bits of his soul. He tried to sleep and ended up looking at his stars for hours.
He has people. Friends. He doesn't need you here.
He was laying in the bed of a stranger, living the life of a boy who no longer existed. Yuri got up and wandered into the kitchen. He could hear his Grandfather snoring down the hall. He reached into the cabinet and pulled out a glass for water. He filled the glass all the way up and leaned against the counter while he sipped it. The pill bottles were sitting out ready for morning.
"I'm an old man Yuri…"
His grandfather's voice floated in his head and it made his heart ache.
He's not going to be around forever. Then what? Where will I go then?
He took a deep breath to shake the thoughts from his mind. The cabinet in the corner caught his eye. He walked over and opened it. There was a wine collection lining its shelves. Yuri looked down the rows and rows of bottles and noticed many of them were old. Like really, really, old and probably very expensive. Among the wine were a few bottles of hard liquor.
Probably for the poker games, Yuri thought. He picked up an unopened bottle of Vodka without thinking. It was heavy in his hands.
Deep breathing might clear my head but this will clear it faster.
Yuri took the bottle back to his bedroom and buried it in his backpack.
The next morning Yuri woke up to Kuzma staring at him. His eyes seemed to say, "I know what you did." Yuri glared at the cat and rolled onto his side.
It's no big deal. It's one bottle he won't even notice it's gone.
He only had a few hours until he had to be back on the train. He was dreading the long trip back to St. Petersburg. He made it the first time only because of the over the counter sleeping pills Victor had slipped him in the car on the way to the train station. He highly doubted that without them he'd be able to sleep. That meant nine hours all to himself and his mind. Lovely.
There was a knock at the door.
"Yuri are you up?" Nikolai asked.
"Da," Yuri replied, pulling himself to a seated position.
"I made food." Yuri could hear the sound of his grandfather's footsteps walk away from his room. Yuri stood and pulled some clothes on. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror over the dresser and he cursed quietly. His skin was almost translucent except for the dark circles under his eyes.
Maybe he won't notice.
Oh he definitely noticed. Nikolai sat a large plate of food in front of Yuri it was understood that he would have to eat all of it. Nikolai sat across from him while he ate. "You're taking care of yourself aren't you."
"Of course Grandpa," Yuri said in between mouthfuls.
"And you're eating real food none of that premade garbage-"
"Grandpa, I'm doing just fine." Yuri smiled at him and hoped that this would be the end of the conversation.
"You're still living with your coaches correct?" Yuri paused.
"No," He said casually. "I moved back into the apartment after the Grand Prix." Nikolai did not seem pleased.
"You didn't mention anything. That was months ago."
"It's not a big deal! I spend all my time at the rink so I'm almost never at the apartment anyway. It's nice to have my own space, that's all."
"I don't like that you're alone, Yuri."
Welcome to the fucking club.
"I'm not alone. I had dinner with Victor just the other night. Really, it's fine. I can take care of myself."
Nikolai dropped the subject. There was no point in making their last couple of hours unpleasant.
After a breakfast that was late enough to call brunch, Yuri packed his things tightly in his bag making sure the vodka bottle remained hidden. He considered taking Yakov's poster with him, it was sure to get a few laughs at the rink, but he decided against it. This room was a memory and Yuri vowed to leave it untouched. He gave the room a once over making sure he didn't forget anything. His eyes lingered on the bedside table for just a second. A small picture frame joined the belongings in his backpack and his vow was broken.
Nikolai drove him to the train station and walked him to his platform. Yuri's backpack seemed to weigh a thousand pounds even though it was mostly empty. He was sure you could hear the vodka sloshing around when he walked. Half of him wanted to give it back and apologize; the other half wanted to drink it till he died. Yuri's hand was clenched around his ticket.
"I enjoyed this Visit, Yura. You'll have to come see me again soon."
"Of course." Yuri wished that they could just drive back to the cottage and stay there forever. "I love you, grandpa," Yuri said. He wrapped his arms around Nikolai and hugged him tightly.
"I love you too, Yuratchka." Nikolai's voice rumbled in his chest and Yuri wanted to melt into it. Yuri held on longer than usual.
I don't want to leave. I don't want to be alone again.
Yuri watched out the window as the train pulled away. He could feel his lifeline stretching , it became more taught the farther away the train traveled. Eventually, it snapped. All at once it returned, the pain, the lothing, the emptiness.
He's going to die. You'll have no one left in this whole world.
Darkness invaded his mind.
What's the point of living if there's no one left who loves you?
Yuri grit his teeth and held tightly to the backpack on his lap. He was not going to cry on a public transit. Absolutely not. He pulled his phone out, desperate for a distraction. He had the videos of himself skating and he watched them over and over again. He closed his eyes and ran through the entire routine over and over again.
By the time this train ride is over, he thought, I'll never miss that jump again.
/
When Yuri walked inside his apartment he was exhausted. He looked around at the bare walls and empty rooms. It was nothing compared to his grandpa's house. Nothing. He let his bag fall off his shoulders and onto the floor. The sound of something heavy made him stop. He opened the bag and pulled out the vodka bottle. Yuri stared at it with disgust.
Weak.
The bottle was placed in the middle of the kitchen table. It seemed to double in size, grow until it was the only thing Yuri saw in the room. This apartment was suffocating. It stole the life out of whoever stepped through its door. Yuri got up and paced the length of the room. His feet were antsy.
I can't stay here.
He shoved his feet into a pair of running shoes and didn't even bother to lock the door behind him as he fled.
He ran until he could barely breathe. Storm clouds loomed over him and then came the downpour. He pushed through, desperate to replace the pain in his chest with pain in his legs. Physical pain, pain that could be managed. He came to a stop at the pier. The rain poured down on him making it hard to see. He fought to catch his breath and used the railing to hold himself up. After a minute he stood and leaned so his stomach was pressed against the railing. His arms raised like a bird. The rain felt good. It was cold and heavy and real. His hair and clothes stuck to him and his breath shown in the air. Something inside him fought to the surface. It hovered in his mind with only one desire,
Jump
Fear shot through him. His hands gripped the cold metal railing and he looked down at the raging sea.
He closed his eyes tightly trying to find a reason to walk away, trying to find a reason to keep running. The water swelled against the wooden beams holding up the pier. Yuri wanted them to snap.
That way it wouldn't be my fault.
The wind blew and pushed him against the bars. His hands didn't let go. He kept himself from falling over the edge but on the flipside, he couldn't walk away from it either.
"What am I doing?" He whispered. Tears and rain mixed on his face. He wailed into the wind. "What the hell am I doing!" He screamed. The sky thundered back at him. Lightning flashed across the sea. "Hit me!" He roared at the storm above him. "I fucking dare you," he growled. The lightning returned in the distance. The far distance. Yuri fell to his knees with his forehead pressed against the wet metal. He was shaking and only partly because of the cold. He looked back at the water. "Don't do it Plisetsky…" He chastised himself. "You're a soldier remember. That's what Beka said, a soldier." The words calmed him enough to be able to release the railing. He backed up slowly and only relaxed once his feet were on concrete. His mood shifted in a heartbeat.
He walked back to his apartment and slammed the door behind him. Standing in the middle of his kitchen he shook with anger. He grabbed one of the chairs and threw it against the wall.
"Pathetic," he groaned. It wasn't enough. He picked up a glass from the counter and threw it on the floor. Shards of glass flew up and bit at his legs but he didn't care. "Where you really going to kill yourself?" He kicked over the garbage can. "How selfish could you be!" He huffed and knocked over the rest of the chairs. He threw open the cupboard doors and knocked the contents to the floor. "This is why Beka left you!" He punted a can across the floor putting a dent in the wall. "You piece of shit!" He punched his fist into the wall and cried out through his teeth as pain blossomed up his arm. "Fuck-" He gasped, holding his bleeding fist. Tears fell from his eyes. Hot, angry tears. He closed his hand around the neck of the Vodka bottle and made a move to swing it against the wall. Just before it collided and exploded into a million pieces Yuri stopped. He held the bottle tightly and sunk to the floor. It was open in a second and pressed against his lips. He took a big swig, it burned, but not half as bad as the fire in his stomach. More. His head was foggy and so blissfully empty. The liquor gave him a false sense of warmth, of comfort. Suddenly he wasn't angry anymore. He was feeling nothing.
/
Victor chewed on his lip as he scrolled through his phone. Yuuri walked past him to fill his water bottle.
"Yuuri, did Yurio text you last night?" Victor asked.
"No," Yuuri said, there was a question resting on the tip of his tongue. Victor hummed and brushed his hair away from his eyes.
"He was supposed to get home last night but he never texted me." Yuuri walked over and picked up his gym bag.
"I'm sure he's fine."
"Right, right," Victor said. He thought for a minute. "And I definitely shouldn't use my day off to check on him right? That would just be annoying." Yuuri smiled at him softly.
"There's no harm in stopping by his apartment." Victor nodded. His mind was made up.
"I'll just go and make sure he gets to practice on time." Yuuri chuckled under his breath.
"Call if you need anything," He said. Victor heard their door open and close. His leg bounced a bit.
"Yeah, ok." He got to his feet and fished out his car keys.
Victor knocked on the apartment door for a good three minutes.
"Yurio," he called. There was no way Yuri had already left, his bus wasn't due to arrive for another twenty minutes. There was no sound coming from inside the apartment. Victor could feel a nervousness seize him. "Yuri!" He banged on the door loudly with his fist. He tried the door handle and found that it opened. "You shouldn't leave your door unlocked!" Victor said loudly before stepping inside. He froze. The apartment was destroyed. Fear gripped his heart. "Yuri! Yurio!" Victor shouted tearing through the apartment. He checked Yuri's bedroom and the bathroom and found them both empty. "Yuri answer me!" He yanked open the door to the spare room. "Yu-" his breath caught in his throat. Yuri was laying across the bare mattress with an empty vodka bottle in his hand. "Oh my God," Victor ran over to him. Yuri's eyes were closed and his breathing was shallow. Victor tapped his cheeks until Yuri's eyes fluttered open. He looked up at Victor dazed.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he slurred. Victor glared at him and yanked him into a seated position. The empty bottle fell to the floor with a thud.
"What are you doing with alcohol!" Victor said loudly. Yuri winced and Victor but his tongue. "Did you take anything?"
"No," Yuri mumbled. He curled in on himself. Victor pursed his lips. He kept his voice low.
"What are you doing Yura?" The teenager shifted uncomfortably. His cheeks were rosy and almost feverish.
"Nothing."
"Yuri."
"I'm not doing anything. Get out of my apartment!" He shouted. Victor didn't move from where he was sitting on the edge of the mattress. Yuri swung at him. "I said get out!" His fists collided weekly with Victor's chest. When his left hand hit he hissed and pulled it close to himself. In the dark Victor could just barely make out the blood.
"What happened downstairs?" Victor asked. Yuri didn't respond. Victor felt a chill settle in his bones. "Did you-" Victor didn't even know how to ask. Did you destroy your apartment in a teenage drunken rage? Yuri groaned and slid so he was laying curled up on his side. Victor could feel the frustration build up inside him. "You know you have practice today right? How are you going to skate when you're passed out drunk?"
"I don't want to skate," Yuri hissed. "I just want to forget." Victor's eyes softened.
"Yurio…" He trailed off.
"Leave me alone!" Yuri pleaded, burying his face into the mattress.
"Let's get you cleaned up," Victor said softly, he put a hand on Yuri's back and felt his feel damp clothes.
"No," Yuri said, curling in on himself tighter. Victor tried to pry his limbs apart. Yuri kicked at him. Victor stood up quickly to avoid being pelted in the face. "I don't want you here! Get out!" Yuri stood and pushed Victor squarely in the chest. Victor took the beating with a straight face.
"Calm down." Victor held up his hands. Yuri laughed and plucked the bottle off of the floor.
"Calm down? You broke in here and now you're telling me what to do!" Yuri tried to take a step and wobbled so severely he fell against the wall. Victor took a step forward. "Get away from me!" Yuri roared. He slammed the bottle against the wall and the bottle splintered into razor sharp shards. He held the shard of glass in his hand and blood dripped from his palm. Victor's eyes were wide. Yuri took a step closer. "Fuck you. Fuck you and your perfect life." Yuri stumbled again.
"You're hurting yourself," Victor said, eyeing the shard of glass. Yuri looked down and noticed the glass for the first time. He opened his hand and let it fall to the ground. "My life is not perfect Yuri," Victor added.
"Shut up!" Yuri tried to hit him again but ended up falling into him. Victor stumbled against the wall. Yuri's forehead was on his shoulder. "You have a family and a home with actual furniture. You eat dinner at the table with someone who gets drunk off of a glass and a half of wine, someone who loves you. I will never have that! I don't have anyone!" Victor remained motionless. He could feel tears soak through his shirt. Yuri gripped a fistful of his shirt. He was trembling. "I tried, I tried to find something. I went home and you know what I found?" Yuri's face pressed hard against Victor's shoulder. "A dying old man," Yuri choked on the words. Victor wrapped one arm around Yuri. His heart was breaking for him.
"Yura, you have such a long life in front of you," He said. He could feel Yuri's body convulse, taking in uneven breaths. Yuri's knees gave out and all of his weight fell onto Victor. Victor used his other arm to hold the boy up, Yuri refused to release his hold on Victor's shirt. His voice came out weak and defeated.
"But I don't want it."
When Yuri came to his head was splitting in vaguely noted he was in his bed. He wanted to lay as still as possible forever but his body had other plans. He barely made it across the hall and to the bathroom before he violently threw up the liquor from the night before. He braced on the toilet too weak to stand. A hand was on his back in an instant rubbing small circles.
"You're alright," Victor said, he gently eased Yuri back so he was sitting with his back against the wall. Yuri didn't know why Victor was there but at this point, he didn't care.
"My head is killing me," Yuri whined. Victor chuckled at him.
"That's what happens when you down a whole bottle of vodka in one sitting." Yuri was basically unresponsive, he shivered violently. "You should lay back down, you're lucky it didn't kill you ."
Lucky? Sure whatever.
Victor made a move to help Yuri up but the boy shook his head.
"If I move I'm gonna throw up again."
"I have a feeling you're going to do that regardless." Sure enough, Yuri spent the majority of his morning bent over the toilet. His throat was burning and his eyes were watering.
I'm dying.
Victor was sitting close by. Yuri's arms trembled as he held himself up. His head gave a sudden throb and he collapsed onto the tile floor. Victor moved over and shook his shoulder. "Yuri get up. You're dehydrated you need to drink something." Yuri's eyes fluttered but they didn't open. He felt like he was floating. He gasped as something cold and wet poured over his face. His eyes snapped open and he saw Victor holding a water bottle. He coughed and rolled onto his side wiping the water out of his eyes.
"What the hell!" He snapped.
"You need to drink something," Victor repeated. Yuri sat up slowly and reached out for the water bottle. He swore and dropped the bottle when his hand gave a sudden throb. His left hand was cut along the palm and the knuckles were cracked and bruised. He picked up the bottle with his other hand and took a greedy sip. He didn't realize how thirsty he was until the bottle was being ripped away from him. "Not all at once, you'll make yourself sick." Yuri glared at him. He looked back at his hand and tentatively opened and closed his fist. "Did you break it?"
"I don't think so," Yuri said.
"I thought for sure you had considering the hole you put in your wall." Yuri groaned and put his head on his knees. "Are you going to tell me what happened?"
"No." Victor huffed but he didn't push the subject. Yuri could feel himself falling over.
"I think I want to go lay down," He said groggily. He fell over practically passed out on the bathroom floor. Victor picked him up easily, too easily. He's lost weight, Victor thought. He put Yuri in his bed and moved the trash can close by.
When Yuri opened his eyes he noticed the time on his electric clock read five pm. He sat up quickly.
"Shit." He tried to get out of bed but hands pushed him back down.
Victor? He's still here?
"What are you doing Yura?"
"Yakov is going to kill me!" He couldn't hide the anxiety in his voice.
"You're just now concerned about practice?" Victor looked at him strangely. Yuri laid back and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. "I already called him, told him you had the stomach bug." Yuri looked at him in disbelief.
"Why?"
"Because the rink is zero tolerance and I really don't want to watch you throw away your career because of a stupid mistake." Yuri couldn't meet his eye. Victor's phone chirped and he glanced at it.
"You should go. Have dinner with katsudon."
"Yurio I'm not going to leave you here-"
"I'll be fine. I'm used to it just go." Yuri rolled over on his side and pulled his blanket up higher. He could hear Victor hesitating. "God, Victor, it's a hangover. I'm just going to sleep it off."
"Alright fine," Victor plopped a glass of water on the night stand, "make sure you drink that. I'm going to pick you up in the morning be ready and please take a shower you reek." Yuri grunted in acknowledgment and listened to Victor's footsteps disappear down the hall and out the door. Yuri slipped into a restless, dreamless, sleep.
/
Yuri woke up early and sat in the shower for an hour. The events from the night before had come crashing back knocking the breath out of him. He made a fist with his hand and watched how the water turned red and swirled around the drain. His hand was a mess, bruised and bloody. He turned off the water and sat there for a minute.
I'm going to have to face all of them. Victor is going to ask questions about why I was drunk, about what I did….
Yuri took a shaky breath and pulled himself up. He quickly got dressed and walked out of his bedroom into the war zone that was the rest of his apartment. He walked over the garbage and broken glass. He pulled his gym bag over his shoulders and pulled a pair of skating gloves over his hands. He walked out of the apartment and walked down the stairs and out the front door. He stood by the curb and waited for Victor to pull up. When the pink convertible arrived Yuri noticed Katsudon was in the passenger seat.
Of course he knows now too.
Yuri could feel a blush creep up on his cheeks as he climbed into the back seat.
"Feeling better?" Victor asked. Yuri nodded mumbling something incoherent.
They arrived and Yuri felt weird with all of them walking in together. Yakov was waiting for them.
"Yuri, Lilia is here to see your free skate. Get ready."
Thanks for your concern. I'm fine by the way.
Yuri rolled his eyes and went over and put his skates on. He went through the motions warming up and setting up for the free skate. Lilia stood on the side of the rink. Her eyes studied his every move. The music started, it was a sad slow song that built at the end. Yuri moved through the choreography perfectly. When the song ended he turned to face her. She was not pleased.
"There was no feeling in that Yuri. You have to make me feel something. Are you incapable?" Her words stung. Yuri grit his teeth. "Make the audience believe you have lost something dear to you. Make them hurt with you."
You want to feel my pain?
"Play it again," Yuri said. He moved to the middle of the ice to set up again.
You want to feel my loss?
He moved rhythmically to the music. His skates kicked up ice on the spins.
Which will it be? My best friend? My will to live? Take your pick!
Yuri could feel the tightness in his chest amplify. He was losing himself for everyone to see. As the song built so did his desire to sob. The night on the pier hung in his mind like a ghost. He could see it all, the pill bottles, the text messages, his mother's photograph, the hole in his apartment wall.
Take it! Take all of it!
He spun and jumped wildly. He could feel his eyes tearing up. He moved like the ocean, like the rain. His heart surged. He could see their faces. Beka, his grandpa, his mother. He clenched his fist and anchored himself with the pain in his hand. More came pouring in, Victor and Katsudon, the way they touched, the way they smiled.
I'll never have any of that. It's my nature.
He was out of breath. He couldn't tell if his jumps were clean or of his spins were tight. The song came to an end and Yuri stopped. The rink was silent. He was breathing heavily.
"Oh Yura," Lilia said. She was tearing up. Yuri looked at all of them, they seemed to be in shock. He skated towards the exit. "Was that believable enough for you?" He wiped the tears off face with the back of his hand and walked out.
It didn't help. Nothing did. It didn't help to drink or to cry. It was inescapable. He abandoned everything, his bag, his phone, he didn't even bother putting on his jacket. He just walked. One foot in front of the other again and again. He vaguely heard someone running behind him.
"Yurio wait!" Yuri stopped but he didn't turn around. "Where are you going? What are you going to do?"
Katsudon
Yuuri's voice was wavering. He'd seen it in the way Yuri skated. He'd seen the exact point where the younger skater stopped fighting. Yuri turned to face him slowly. Tears were freely falling down his face. They both just stared at each other. "Well?" Yuuri prompted.
"I-I don't know," Yuri said. Something inside him shattered. He sobbed. It was heart wrenching. This was the way a dying man cried. Yuuri wrapped his arms around him. Yuri sunk into the embrace, burying his head into Yuuri's neck. Yuuri held him tighter, trying to keep the pieces together.
"Take him home Vitya, wherever that is." Yakov felt older now than he ever had. He should have noticed something sooner. The way Yuri skated… It was as if he was trying to escape his own body. Overwhelmed. Broken. Victor nodded. "We'll have to make some calls I don't…" Yakov in all his years had never seen something like this.
"We'll keep an eye on him." Yakov nodded.
"I'll talk to Nikolai, he'll have to decide ultimately what happens next." Yakov was dreading making that phone call.
"Maybe it's not what we think?" Lilia asked, hope dripped off her tongue. Victor looked at her sadly. The things Yuri had said the night before and his performance just now…. It was definitely what they thought it was.
/
Yuri blinked and suddenly he was sitting on the couch in Victor's living room. Makka had her head on his lap and his fingers were entangled in her fur. Victor was sitting on one side and Yuuri on the other.
Is this a dream? How did I get here?
Everything after his practice was a blur. He had a blanket over his shoulders and his left hand was bandaged. He looked up and noticed they were watching a movie with Japanese subtitles.
"I went to the pier the night it stormed," Yuri's voice sounded foreign. The other two both looked at him. Victor muted the TV. "I thought I was going to fall off but I didn't" Yuri didn't know what was possessing him to speak.
Shut up idiot.
"I-I…" Yuri stopped speaking. They were both turned toward him. Yuri continued to stroke Makka's head.
"Why were you at the pier?" Victor prompted. Yuri shrugged.
"I was just trying to get away." Victor and Yuuri made eye contact. Victor untangled himself and got up from the couch.
"I'll be right back," He said quietly. He stepped around the corner to make a phone call. Yuri stared at the TV. Yuuri's thumb rubbed circles on his shoulder.
This isn't my life.
The movie continued to play in silence. Yuri felt like he was watching the scene from third person. He looked down and saw himself sitting on the couch in a bright and warm home with a dog on his lap and an arm over his shoulder.
This isn't mine.
"Do you know where my jacket is?" Yuri asked.
"Yeah it's in the spare bedroom. Do you want it?" Yuri nodded and Katsudon got up and walked over and opened the door just a few feet away. Yuri stood, unwrapped the blanket from his shoulders and walked out the front door.
Yuri could tell he was walking but he didn't feel the asphalt beneath his feet. He didn't feel the bite of cold on his skin.
It's a dream. Just a dream.
He kept walking until he saw something familiar. The tunnel looked different tonight, bigger somehow.
"Yuri!" He could hear voices calling but they sounded so far away. Yuri stepped into the tunnel and listened to the sound of his heartbeat echo off the walls. He looked up at the flickering lights. "Yuri!" His name bounced in all directions, surrounding him. Another sound caught his ear. He looked down the tunnel and two headlights danced in front of him. The closer they got the harder it was for his eyes to focus on them. They were so bright. There was a screeching sound as rubber met asphalt. Yuri was transfixed on the light. His foot twitched ready to step out of the way but his eyes were captivated.
It's kind of beautiful
…
A.N~ Take from this what you will. I lost it at the end it all started to fall apart but it's done now I guess. I might have to delete this... It's not healthy. I'm sorry. For those of you mad at Beka, don't be. Even the best people in the world are entitled to cut off ties. What Yuri did after was not his fault.