[A/N]
This is by far the most depressing thing I've ever written, so apologies in advance.
Also, take note that this fic is not what it looks like, stick with me to the very end to see.
He was in love with Yuuri Katsuki.
It took him an impressive amount of time til he reached that devastating conclusion, but Yuri Plisetsky knew there was no going back from it, not when the fact had itself known, not when reality chased him brutally until he couldn't escape its clutches any longer, not when its ropes were wrapped around his neck and its shackles were clasped shut on each limb, bruising his skin, keeping him in place and suffocating the air out of his lungs.
His cocksure and stubborn younger self was strong enough to delay the realization, by focusing instead on the series of unbalanced voices that were consuming his mind deafeningly, coating the reality with a layer of melody to keep him mentally stable.
God, he missed them, missed those loud sounds that were sometimes infinite in pitch, they were beautifully distracting, helpful, protective. He was never able to define them; the wavelengths that were sourced from a different medium couldn't possibly be translated into words.
They were perhaps tunes, hisses, or screams, fueling him with anger and denial, convincing him that was happening wasn't actually happening.
But all musical pieces must come to an end, and the last echo of sound, the vanishing of the foggy melody, and the new horrifying clarity of what had remained, marked the beginning of Yuri's misery.
He was in love with Yuuri Katsuki.
On his twenty first birthday, Yuri was going to end it.
To put it frankly, Yuri might've been able to bullshit people left and right like it was his second nature, but he couldn't bullshit himself.
He tried, though, he really did, no one can deny that.
Not that anyone was aware of it, not with how disgusting and pathetic it was.
Only one person in the entire world knew, and Yuri was planning to keep it that way.
He was taking that secret with him to the grave, even if it meant going there sooner than planned.
At age fourteen, Yuri was bitter.
To be fair, lots of teenagers were, but Yuri, just like he did with everything else, had to take it to the extreme, to its very peak until it was unbearable for him and everyone around him.
People called it aggressive behavior, but Yuri called it sheer confusion, a reaction to unfamiliar feelings that no one warned him of or taught him how to deal with.
"And then there's the one from Japan- hey, Victor!" he heard Mila shouting one day. "Goddamnit, for once, pay attention to what I'm telling you!"
"Yeah, I'm following," Victor lied, his eyes glued on his phone in the same way the smile rested on his face, empty, shallow, and just there for the hell of it. That pretty much explained the dynamic of him recently, Yuri decided. "There's of course Chris, and that guy Altin, and uh... Jean Jacues Rosseau, go on."
Georgi snorted at that.
"It's Leroy, Jean Jacues Leroy, you ass!" Mila snapped. "How could you not know the names of the people you're competing with?!"
With his guards fixed on his skates, Yuri decided to join them on the benches, bottle of water in hand, and all set and ready for today's pile of bullshit. "I think we should all be surprised by how he miraculously referenced a philosopher just know, I'm strangely impressed."
"You discover wonders every day." Georgi added with a smirk.
"Very funny." Victor flashed them a bigger smile, but nope, no glint, no meaning, just a hollow reflex. "Go on, Mila."
"You got it, right? Jean Jacues-"
"Too long... too long... skip to the next one-"
"Look here, asshole, he's my current skater crush and it's your duty to know his name."
"You have too many of those." Victor commented.
"Yes," Yuri agreed with passion, "If your body can't keep tabs on your hormones, how can we?"
"Shut up there, midget."
"Fuck off, hag!"
"I'm pretty sure JJ has a girlfriend-"
"Georgi, don't fucking ruin it!"
Victor just chuckled at them, dryly as the sand grains on a hot summer day.
God, it pissed Yuri off.
"Quit slacking off!" they flinched at Yakov's sudden, but usual wrath, echoing throughout the practice area at whoever was unlucky enough to be in the coach's range. "And how many times should I remind you twats not to swear in the rink?!"
He knew all three of them wanted to do it, desperately, but they were not ready to face the consequences, so Yuri took one for the team.
He flashed Yakov a pretty middle finger behind his back, and fortunately got away with it.
"Yes, just like that." Mila smiled in content.
"Thank you." Georgi sighed.
Victor patted him on the back.
"As I was saying," Mila breathed heavily, trying to regain her train of thoughts. "There's also that skater from Japan who's known for his step sequence, Yuuri Katsuki."
"Now that one's easy to memorize," Victor flung his arm around Yuri's shoulder, smirking his way. "Maybe we'll have two Yuri's competing against each other next season, how exciting!"
You sure don't look excited for shit, Yuri thought, immediately seeing past Victor's sorry ass of a facade, because Jesus Christ, it was getting pretty bad.
Yuri was aware of Victor's lack of inspiration lately, but the man was literally starting to look dead on the inside.
He knew that he had to get on that at some point; Yuri couldn't afford Victor half-assing during his senior debut next year, not when he was the one to choreograph the upcoming program himself.
They still didn't discuss it, but Yuri had time, and honestly, he wasn't in the right mind, nor did he have the patience to deal with Victor's incompetence and fuckery; he can find a solution for his muse dilemma himself as long as Yuri's program was in the making.
"Alright, I got it." Victor beamed, "On to the next one!"
"Oh, yeah?" Mila raised an eyebrow, completely unconvinced. "What's Japanese Yuuri's last name, then?"
"You underestimate me, Mila," Victor flipped his hair confidently; "It was obviously Atsushi."
"Goddamnit, Victor!" Mila yelled, frustrated. "Why are you like this?!"
"But Milaaaa, those Asian names are haaaard-"
Two Yuri's, Yuri thought for a second, a swirl of anger consuming him all of a sudden, his teeth grinding at the idea. Not on the same ice there ain't.
That night, Yuri spent the entire time, while he should have been fast asleep like he was instructed to, stalking the shit out of that Japanese bastard.
There was nothing to worry about as far as the information his profile and accomplishments provided. Yuri didn't detect anything that would hint at a dangerous level of competition, but something was very unsettling.
And Yuri didn't like that feeling.
Mila was on a competitive league and wouldn't mention something about other skaters if it wasn't truly important, well, beside how hot and pretty they were.
He also knew quite well that some skaters would get ticked all of a sudden and rise to the top unpredictably.
Why would he care though? They just had the same name.
Yet, the whole thing was still unsettling.
A week later, Yuri was intrigued.
He found himself watching Katsuki's performance more intently than he did Victor's, and that strange feeling only got worse by the second.
He was overcome with disappointment at first, groaning in contempt as he watched that bastard flub almost all of his jumps, the overwhelming pressure crushing him flat on the ice.
Fuck, he couldn't believe that his all-nighter of stalking lead to this, he even learned everything about the guy's private life too while he was at it, for fuck sake.
He wanted to see him in his best form. He wanted to see how he'd do without mistakes. He wanted to see what he was going to face soon, but everything he had asked for was denied, perhaps harshly, too.
Yuri didn't like surprises, and he certainly didn't like not knowing what to expect.
After all, he was scouting for competition.
But Yuri wasn't stupid; that step sequence he witnessed was easily the best he'd seen so far, one that could outmatch even Victor's.
The expression on the man's face, however, itched Yuri in a really bad way.
Somehow, it eerily resembled his own reflection on the mirrors around him after a failed attempt at acing something, while fully knowing that he could get it perfectly done under different circumstances.
Admittedly, the bastard didn't look anything like his profile picture on the official website; Yuri had expected no grace or significance as far as looks went, but he was met with a representation that wasn't entirely bad. Slicking back his hair and ditching the glasses were a good call, because the transition must've been exotic for the audience; Yuri knew that, he also knew what Mila would be talking about the next time the guy was mentioned.
Yuri, for the first time, was criticizing Victor for something that was actually related to skating; Victor never paid attention to the competition around him, barely knew and recognized other skaters he was competing with, and Yuri was sure that it would come back to bite him in the ass one day.
Because Yuuri Katsuki faced the audience in shame, his brown eyes filled with regret, and Yuri deciphered the exact words he wanted to shout at them.
'You didn't see it.'
'You didn't see what I can actually do.'
In the bathroom, Yuri was angry.
Not twenty minutes ago, he had seen himself in that man; he had been excited, he had been curious to know what he was like.
And that crying pathetic piece of shit in front of him was not the man he saw.
His chest was heaving thunderously when he exited, feeling completely satisfied and content after yelling out every single phrase that could demolish the Japanese bastard to fragments, and god, it felt so good.
Now, if they had anything in common, Katsuki will have to rise up and try to prove him wrong.
And Yuri couldn't wait.
An hour later, Yuri was empathetic.
"Man, that fan sure looked devastated seeing me," Victor murmured sadly in the sidelines amidst a life lecture Yakov was thrusting Yuri's way with no mercy. "I bet he was shocked by how old I look."
Yuri rolled his eyes, both at his coach's outburst and Victor's unnecessary love for his fans. On the other hand, he was a bit grateful of the fact that one of them didn't jump up at the first chance to grab Victor's attention, fuss over him and literally have seizures like morons right then and there.
He was also glad to see Victor showing some genuine emotions for a change; his sulkiness actually made the man look real for a moment there.
Yuri glanced at the entrance to see the fan in question and solute him, just to add salt to Victor's wound, only to see Katsuki there with his back to them, out of all people, and again, Yuri knew exactly what he was going through.
Victor, you cruel bastard.
Later that night, Yuri was challenged.
"Keep drinking, asshole," Yuri taunted, trying his hardest to provoke Katsuki, to bring out something in him that he didn't understand, not the nature of it, nor the reason he wanted it to be unleashed so bad. "Go ahead, drown in your sorrows!"
Katsuki slammed the bottom of his glass on the table, and suddenly, Yuri felt the air shifting around him, the equally distributed noises of the hall impossibly narrowing as the man loosened his tie and took off his glasses.
Katsuki turned slowly, his face completely blank, and Yuri was lying if he said he wasn't disappointed, because the bastard obviously looked like he didn't give a single shit, polar opposite to the reaction he received in the bathroom.
He was in front of the boy within a few seconds, looking down at him with a half smile, "At least I'm old enough to do that."
Victor chuckled behind them, and Yuri didn't have enough energy to dwell on how it didn't sound as empty, but instead chose to glare at the man in front of him as hard as he can.
The noise drew Katsuki's attention to the ice skating legend, his eyes immediately sparkling with interest and awe.
It pissed him off so, so much.
Don't do it, idiot. Yuri thought angrily, his glare intensifying. Remember how he just gave you the greatest diss as a figure skating finalist a few hours ago?
Katsuki's gaze instantly redirected at Yuri, his whole attention shifting to him and a smirk forming on his lips, as if he heard his exact thoughts and understood. "I can destroy you, you know."
"Ha?!" Yuri's mouth twisted into an ugly snarl. "I wanna see you try, fucker. I'll wipe the floor with your face-"
"Let's go, then." The bastard, for some bizarre reason, started taking off his suit jacket sluggishly and – oh, hell no!
"No, no, no, fuck off!" Yuri struggled against the surprisingly strong hold, because Katsuki was grabbing his hand and leading him toward the dance floor all of a sudden. "Don't even think about it! I won't do it! Not in a banquet! I meant the Grand Prix-"
Katsuki was the one to glare at him this time. The mere mention of the event seemed triggering, and Yuri gulped, knowing all too well that he had struck a nerve.
Fully aware that the man should be shitfaced by now, Yuri still didn't understand where all that grace was coming from.
Because Katsuki let go, as if Yuri wasn't worth it anymore, and literally fucking threw his jacket at Victor.
"Shame." Yuuri smiled, still not breaking eye contact and not sparing Victor even a glance as he walked backwards, every word daring. "So you were just bark and no bite after all."
When he was a fair distance away, Yuri turned in absolute confusion toward Victor, ready to start talking shit. "What the fuck?"
Only, he was met with a strange sight: a grinning Victor. What the fuck?! "What should I do with this?" he chuckled, holding the jacket with uncertainty. "I didn't know he was a skater, god, I feel like shit."
"Be prepared to feel worse," Yuri snorted, pointing a thumb at the dance floor. "He's about to make a fucking fool out of himself. Look, he already crashed into three people – where the hell is my camera?"
He was about to call Mila so she could join in on the fun too when suddenly, the music changed into something entirely different, making Yuri release another loud what the fuck? in the air.
Apparently, that idiot was attracting attention all over the place, and soon the entire density of the hall was focused on that figure in the center, dancing so out of beat it was sad.
It was somehow amusing, at least, because there were smiles and laughter spreading around him like poison. The DJ, who was obviously bored out of his mind, thought it would be funny to play a loud, upbeat hip hop song out of fucking nowhere, immediately spreading energy around the party that was full of class and etiquette just a few minutes ago.
Shit. Even the DJ was an evil son of a bitch, Yuri realized, did he not have enough with the guy embarrassing himself with a classic song? Now he wanted him to go all out, too?
He, for some bizarre reason, was starting to feel sorry, and not having the heart to keep looking at the dance floor for one more second, Yuri glanced away.
The whole shitshow dragged itself longer than necessary, and Yuri had half a mind to go and drag him out of there by force, maybe try and savor whatever dignity Katsuki had left, but he wasn't entitled to do that, nope, fuck no, it would've been too embarrassing to be associated with the guy at the current time and place.
He heard a gasp, followed by sudden silence and murmurs, and Yuri closed his eyes, knowing that he wouldn't find whatever was happening amusing anymore.
"Holy shit, Yuri!" Victor's blue eyes were blown wide when Yuri turned to him, and watched as the older man fumbled for his phone like his life depended on it. "Look at that!"
Yuri did, and he was speechless.
What the actual fuck?!
Katsuki was still dancing like there was no tomorrow, but god, what was happening? He looked around, everyone awed and smiling. Consistent clapping issued next, and Yuri looked again, still speechless.
Where in the fuck's name did this man learn to dance like that?
The shift of music unleashed a monster, because Katsuki became one with the song, and did not miss one single beat without pulling a move harder and more exotic than the next.
Yuri had seen the kids in his school when they formed groups for dance-offs, always attracting everyone's attention around them. He had seen how they fought tooth and nail to beat each other, and well, honestly, it was considered the coolest shit ever for people his age.
Yuuri, though, Yuuri was on another level, because he was break dancing like he was born for it. Jesus Christ, those kids in his school would cry tears of envy if they witnessed this.
Victor and Yuri gaped at him, jaws hanging and continuous snaps sounding from the older man's phone.
Everyone was cheering and rooting for him the longer he went. Yuri even heard whistles and hoots that were becoming too loud, and not long after, Victor was acting like a true embarrassment, waving the guy's jacket with so much pride it was humiliating to even be standing next to him, "He gave it to me!" Victor told whoever was nearby, pointing at Katsuki then himself, "He gave his jacket to me!" and that shit was the final straw.
"You bastard!" Yuri shouted, literally pushing people away and running toward the center of the hall.
By the end of the song, Yuri got a taste of his own medicine.
He tried.
He really did.
However, people were laughing their asses off, Victor and Mila looked like they were having the time of their lives, and Yuuri motherfucking Katsuki was patting him on the head in sympathy.
"It's alright." He laughed, his hand gentle and fingers running through Yuri's blond hair. "You weren't that bad."
"Shut the fuck up!" Yuri snapped, because goddamnit, he was lying through his teeth.
People were laughing at him, not Katsuki, he made a fool out of himself, he lost to that bastard by a long shot, who apparently, was some sort of break dancing legend because those moves he busted were not coincidental.
"Yuuri!" he heard Victor's voice amidst the loud cheers, annoyingly cheerful and vibrant. "That was amazing!"
Yuri turned abruptly, ready to give that inconsiderate fucker a piece of his mind because he was obviously mocking him, until he realized that Victor was actually addressing the other Yuuri.
Katsuki though, that evil little shit, knew exactly what he was doing, because he chose to not even acknowledge it.
From Victor's vintage point, he was completely ignored and perhaps wasn't heard, but Yuri didn't miss that sly smile on Katsuki's lips, and he couldn't deny that he was impressed by how the tables were turned.
Victor deserved it, anyway, so Yuri didn't mind.
Nor did he mind that Yuuri's fingers were still in his hair.
Later on, Yuri was being wicked.
He was exhausted after the dance-off, to say the least, the adrenaline leaving his body and all energy vanishing from his system, so he found himself a seat and decided to record whatever the hell was happening; he was humiliated fresh, yet he wasn't going to give up, he had to be there and see other people hitting rock bottom too so he could blackmail whoever had evidence of his... mishap.
Yuuri, though, Yuuri was still at it.
He thought Katsuki was bluffing when he agreed on another dance-off, with Christophe nonetheless, and on a goddamn pole, the Swiss man's very own territory.
That bitch is crazy. Yuri decided, capturing every moment of it with insistence.
And Jesus H. Christ, the man actually kept up.
There were some positions that looked physically impossible to pull off, yet, there he was, only in his briefs, fisting the pole with two hands, his entire body aligned in a horizontal line, with Chris casually lying on his back with all of his weight.
How?
Just.
How?
Every female in sight was squeaking, no shit.
That guy managed to become the life of the party in the matter of an hour, leaving no one's wildest expectations and brains unfucked.
But Yuri knew exactly what was going on.
He knew exactly why he was holding Chris in such intimacy and dominance; he knew exactly whom those seductive moves were directed at.
And Yuri didn't know what to do with that information.
Especially with how fucking oblivious Victor was to it.
Because, well, the man was too busy taking pictures and blushing like a goddamn teenager, gasping every now and then, and pouting each time he pitifully called Katsuki's name just so he could receive no response.
Yuri felt an odd sense of satisfaction coursing through him, enthralling and new, courtesy of the fact that Katsuki was actively ignoring Victor throughout the whole thing and posing only for Yuri's camera.
His innocence was disheveled, to say the least.
Yet, Yuri enjoyed every fucking second of it, because he knew what was going on, they were, in an unspoken way, teaming up to bring Victor down on his knees.
Katsuki probably wanted vengeance, and Yuri just took pleasure in getting under Victor's skin, because god, he was so fucking sick of him lately, so it was a win-win situation.
And it was working so beautifully.
"Ugh!" Victor exclaimed, making his way toward him in absolute frustration. "Yuri! Send me all the pictures you're taking!"
Yuri was laughing devilishly.
Fuck, it excited him. Only if he was able forget the shame of his dance-off, he could honestly consider this the best banquet he had ever been to.
At the closure of the party, Yuri felt used.
There were some things he didn't expect, but as it was established before, Katsuki and expectations were proportional.
He didn't expect him to have enough energy left to detach from the pole, put his clothes on, and dive in head first into the dance floor again.
The man looked like he wanted to dance specifically to that one classic song playing, and soon enough, he was showing off perfect skill in ballroom and interpretive dancing because well, why the fuck not? Yuri didn't even bother to ask or even be surprised anymore.
Victor, the poor asshole, was reaching absolute desperation at that point, so he decided to join in on a whim and keep trying.
The Russian man couldn't dance with him at first, even though he was pathetically dying to get closer, because Katsuki – and Yuri took pride in saying that – still had his game on, leaving Victor far away from him on purpose.
It took some time, but eventually, they were in sync. People got the hint and left the floor to give them space because obviously, there was no room for bullshit anymore, those two were on a whole different league and everyone else had to take their half assed dancing elsewhere.
But Yuri didn't expect him... to actually turn around and start dancing with Victor directly.
No. Yuri wanted to shout, feeling a strange streak of emotions. That's too soon, idiot!
Their telepathy didn't work this time, though.
He still took pictures for the lack of nothing better to do, and just couldn't stop his eyes from rolling at how beyond happy Victor was becoming with each frame, taking full pride in finally having Yuuri all for himself.
There was that one shot that almost made him barf; the two were amidst an elegant spin, quick with their impatience, but still making it effortless. Yuuri was holding Victor by the leg and cheek, though he knew quite well that the latter had nothing to with balance, as he dipped the taller man down so low that Yuri wondered how he managed to not fall on his ass. Both of them were laughing in sheer glee, eyes closed shut with wrinkles of emotion.
He stopped taking pictures then.
He didn't expect Yuuri to spend the remaining of the night dancing with Victor like there was no one else present.
He didn't expect him to not show any signs of fatigue, not the slightest, his pants disappearing later on for some reason.
He didn't expect to be neglected and ignored the entire time, either.
And most importantly, he didn't expect that the whole thing that was going on between them was just an illusion in Yuri's head.
But if it had happened and he wasn't in fact looking too much into it, then Yuri would've been played the whole night in the most ironic way possible.
"If I win the dance off, you'd be my coach, right?"
Alright, that one really stung.
"Be my coach, Victor!"
Ouch.
He looked at the side, and wasn't even remotely surprised with what he saw.
Victor had fallen.
- To Be Continued