Disclaimer: I don't own Yuri! On Ice.
A/N: Those who have watched Your Lie in April would know what's happening. In case you haven't, I will try and explain all situations. It's not too divergent from canon, except the settings and circumstances (I guess that's what AU is about, I don't usually write AU, lol). I chose Detroit for a setting because I thought it'll be neutral plus Yuuri and Phichit can be roommates yay! Anyway, enjoy the story.
Valse Sentimentale
I
Springs are beautiful in Detroit.
Daisies along the side of the roads like scattered specks of colour, brighter leaves, little sheets of ice still floating in the water - spring often brought in a series of surprises.
Like this one, right then, as Yuri Plisetsky asks him to come on a picnic. Asks? More like, begs, eventually threatens with his own shade of grumpiness. In any case, Yuri Plisetsky on a picnic is not a sentence one hears everyday.
"Who else is coming?" he has asked.
"That old hag Mila and that drama queen Georgi and a doofus who wants some attention."
A doofus who wants some attention. Going by Yuri's standards, it sounds like a really nice person.
"Okay, edgelord, I'll be there."
"Are you mocking me again?!"
So there he is, before a giant patch of green, in his jogging outfit (Yuri is going to be so mad, which made the idea all the more compelling), his brown poodle Makkachin woofing by his side, ecstatic about the large open space. He searches his pockets - he has an energy bar, if that can feed the five (five, is it? He thinks he forgot) of them for the whole day, his wallet, headset, and the parchment where Yuri wrote out the address (Yuri never texts him as he forgets to reply).
"Boy, all of them are late," he breathes in the fresh air. He lets Makkachin on its own and decides to take a walk around.
He screws his eyes and looks ahead. There is something going on under that cherry blossom tree. He closes in; there is a batch of children - three children to be exact - and a young man playing with them, more like, dancing under the falling leaves.
And suddenly it looks so beautiful he is stunned. The guy seems to be in his early twenties, younger than he is, Asian, his unruly hair falling over his forehead, his glasses catching the glint of the sunlight, his small laugh leaving a blush on his nose as his arms arch into a graceful pose.
He feels this urgent need to capture it as he pulls out his cellphone. And he does, a few, of the trees and of the kids and a slightly-blurred photograph of the young man, but before he can buckle up to get a better one, he finds himself at the centre of attention - the three kids are giving him a hostile glare, their arms akimbo.
"Excuse me," it is the guy with the glasses speaking, "Are you taking pictures of the kids?"
He passes into a deep shade of red, not sure what to say; just crosses his fingers and hopes the guy doesn't take him for a paedophile.
The guy is different now, as if withdrawn into a shell. He is quieter, a little embarrassed, and perhaps a little pissed. "It's impolite to take someone's pictures without their permission - "
"Oi, piggy!"
They turn at that; it is the whole club arriving - Yuri, the shortest of the lot, in his usual tiger-print hoodie shooting death-stares at Mila, the pretty redhead who is clinging onto his arm just to mess with him, and Georgi Popovich, who is walking with a careful distance from them, making sure nothing hurt his dramatic aura.
Wait, this guy with the glasses - is he the doofus Yuri was talking about? "Are you really going to call me that?" the new boy whines and snaps all the same.
Yuri smirks. It is time for introductions. "So you've already met Victor, huh? This is Mila," at that, if Victor isn't mistaken, he saw Yuri's expression change into a smug grin, "and that's emo Georgi. Guys, this is Katsuki Yuuri." So he's Yuri's namesake. That explains the heap of insults.
"Hi, Yuuri!" Mila is already onto him, as she ushers him to walk by her side, "Aren't you getting late for your competition?"
Competition? It seems everyone but Victor has an idea of what she's talking about. Yuuri checks his watch, and flinches, "Um, I... just a minute."
Apparently the picnic grounds are adjacent to one of the city's major ice skating rinks, where a local pair skate competition is supposed to be held in about an hour. As soon as Victor sees through Yuri's ploy, he seethes. Yuri is still smug, "Surprise, motherfucker."
"Maybe I'll wash your mouth and strangle you."
Unfazed, Yuri walks off proudly. As the group heads out, Victor realises he has fallen back with the other Yuuri, who right then is waving goodbye to the kids. In the meantime Victor finds Makkachin, and cuddles the dog in an attempt to distract himself from the ugly throbbing in his chest.
"They're actually my friend's kids," Yuuri explains, "The whole family's dropped in cheer for me in this competition."
"So you were practicing with them?"
"Yeah," he says, "sorry, I thought of you as some kind of creep -"
"It's okay, Yuuri."
He observes him. Yuuri is jogging at his position, rubbing his fingernails together, mumbling to himself, his forehead clamming up with sweat - far, far apart from the carefree first impression he just made for himself. Victor places a hand on his shoulder even as Yuuri jumps out. "Are you nervous?"
"Yeah. Very."
"Don't worry," he's awful at comforting, but tries his best, "You'll do fine."
"Maybe, um, you can lend me some tips."
For Victor, ice-skating is a long-lost friend. "Tips?" he laughs, "Me?"
"Why not?" he protests, though he's apologetic for suggesting it, "You're Victor Nikiforov. There's no one in the skating circle who doesn't know about you."
Victor wonders if that's true. To be honest, he doesn't care anymore. It's a part of a past he doesn't want to return to. He glances up and finds Yuuri staring deep into his eyes. As if he's searching for something, looking for a dousing rod. If he isn't wrong, he watches Yuuri's eyes sparkle, as if they hold a solution.
All of a sudden, it's Yuri making a return, panting for breath, and roaring out to them, "Oi, piggy! The competition's been preponed half an hour. Come on, your partner's looking for you, you're gonna miss your chance you dumbass!"
The moment passes and the gaze is broken. Yuuri looks down at his watch and almost lets out a pterodactyl screech, "Shit!" With it, he breaks into a hasty run and never looks back. Yuri follows suit.
It takes Makkachin almost knocking into his shin to realise Victor is simply frozen at his place, staring ahead. He is confused. He is fascinated. Maybe he does care after all, who knew.
When he was still in business, Victor never used to shy away from media attention. He always had a smile on his face, no matter how exhausted, how broken he had been.
Right now, even as he finds himself a seat amongst the audience, the constant murmur about him ("Is that Victor Nikiforov?" "Victor Nikiforov? You sure?" "Victor Nikiforov is here?" "Didn't he go into a hiding after the scene he made at the Grand Prix finals?") enveloping him from all sides, grates on his nerves. He clenches his fists and decides to shake it off.
"Why are you snoozing?" Mila nudges Yuri, who has his arms behind his head and feet up on the seat before him, "If you don't respect your rivals, you're never gonna get far."
"They're not my rivals and I'm not interested. Let me sleep."
"You know, now that there are two Yuris, I think I'm gonna call you Yurio."
"What?! I came first, nickname him you hag!"
Victor laughs, "Well, he's older than you so technically he came first, Yurio."
"That's not my name!"
Mila plays along. "Why is Yurio getting so mad?"
"Shut up, shut up, shut up!"
They had to sit through four routines before Yuuri and his partner took the rink. The applause at the beginning dies down as the crowd watches on with bated breath. Victor glances around him; Yuri is awake and staring down at the rink with undivided attention. Mila cheers out loud, at which Yuri grumbles. Georgi shushes them down.
Yuuri has changed from that blue jacket he had been wearing when they met him. He looks strangely radiant in that black costume, his glasses off and his hair slicked back ( "So sexy," Mila fangirls beside him, much to Yuri's barfing noises). For a second, Victor believes Yuuri made eye contact with him. For a second, his heart skips a beat.
The music starts and Victor forgets to breathe. Of all the performances he has seen and done in his lost career, he has never seen one so bold. Every move Yuuri makes, every manner his arms flail and every way his free leg holds up is art. The ice is his canvas and he keeps lathering it with colours, bravely and carelessly. His dancing is so rebellious Victor has to restrain his own instincts to axel himself out into the rink.
That's when he notices Yuuri's partner is bogging him down. Their triple axel isn't in sync; his partner is out of tempo. The lift is faulty. Yuuri tries to recover the damage with a quad toe loop. Sure, a quad toe loop at a competition of this level is impressive, but doing it alone is hardly going to make a difference to the pair skate routine.
"Oh, this isn't gonna go well with the judges," gasped Yuri, voicing his thoughts, "Why does he have that dumbfuck of a partner?"
"Language, Yuri."
Despite everything, Victor notices how pumped up the crowd is. Maybe it's the music; maybe it's the way Yuuri moves, as if his body composes the music. Maybe that's why noone can look away.
"Go, Yuuuuri! That was amazing!" Mila yells out of the blue as soon as the performance ends. She isn't alone at it, the whole audience seems to have gone bonkers - more on this routine than on any other. Yuuri seems content, waving at them, smiling, trying to cheer up his partner who was on the knees, dejected.
The score isn't too bad - they lost a lot of technical points and somehow managed with the PCS in spite of Yuuri's dancing almost being a giant "fuck you" towards the rules. As of now, Yuuri and his partner are ranking third out of the four pairs.
It is Victor's idea that they should go down towards the entrance to congratulate him. They find Yuuri right outside, the jacket and the glasses back, still skipping on his toes out of nervousness, surrounded by those kids he was with earlier, and a smallish cute woman and a brick-like man, perhaps their parents.
Victor wants to tell him a million things. He wants to tell him he was inspirational in the rink. He wants to tell him he screwed up one of the lutz combination because his technique was wrong. He wants to tell him he looks kind of pretty with his glasses on and the hair slicked back. He wants to tell him he did the right thing by not blaming his partner.
Even as Victor calculates when and how to step forth, his path is blocked by Mila, who has run ahead and reached out to hug Yuuri. Yuuri is alarmed, blushes a deep shade of red, but nevertheless accepts the hug.
Suddenly, the distance seems a mile apart. Victor turns his back.
Yuri is sniggering at something else, "That doofus has been asking me to set him up with that old hag. Guess they're set. Although I should warn him that Mila's a player..."
"D'you want to get a coke or something?" asks Victor, trying to ignore the strange lurching in his stomach. Something he ate this morning feels like regret now.
He guesses he has missed his chance.
From: Mila Babicheva
To: Victor Nikiforov
Victorrrr! Urgent!
From: Victor Nikiforov
To: Mila Babicheva
What happened now? :/
From: Mila Babicheva
To: Victor Nikiforov
Listen pls do me a favour. Pls pls pls
From: Victor Nikiforov
To: Mila Babicheva
Okay ^O^
What are you on? ._.
From: Mila Babicheva
To: Victor Nikiforov
Listen I was supposed to meet Yuuri but suddenly Sam's game gets cancelled and he asks me whether he can crash at my place I'm sorry I'm sorry can you please haul up Yuuri and NOT tell about this
From: Victor Nikiforov
To: Mila Babicheva
Are you cheating on Yuuri?
From: Mila Babicheva
To: Victor Nikiforov
Well I just met Yuuri last day so technically I'm cheating on Sam :3
Sorry, I know you're pissed but pls do this for me I PROMISE I'll break up with Sam this evening I promise
From: Victor Nikiforov
To: Mila Babicheva
Okay I'll try. -_-
From: Mila Babicheva
To: Victor Nikiforov
Thank uuuu :*
Really sorry about this crap. Yuuri's too cute, I won't hurt him I promise :3
Victor scrolls past his conversation with Mila this afternoon, waiting outside the rink of the Detroit Skating Club, a twinge of annoyance making a vein at his temple pop. Mila is a cool person to hang out with; she's the captain of the local basketball team, and quite free to use her charms when it comes to dating - her most famous cross-country affair has been with the Italian Sara Crispino. Of course, it didn't end well. Maybe the four of them have gradually grouped together being Russians, but Victor has never approved of Mila's skill at breaking hearts. And certainly, he won't let her hear the end of it if she does the same to Yuuri.
"Yuuri!"
Victor waves at the oblivious Asian guy who has just jogged out of the building. He wheels at Victor's direction and his face brightens into a small, shy smile. "V-Victor?"
"Hi!" Victor chimes out happily.
"H-have you seen Mila?"
Crap. Victor realises he hasn't rehearsed anything, and desperately searches about for an excuse. "They're having a double shift because of this major tournament right about the corner," he babbles without thinking, hoping Yuuri buys it without further questions.
Yuuri's face fell a bit, but he doesn't look too disappointed. "She could've just texted me or something."
"Pity," Victor rolls his eyes. Something inside him is excited at the thought of it, even as everything else chastises him for being so salty. It's like a tussle between the angel and devil on his either shoulders. He adds, "I guess you're gonna have to hang out with me on your first date, Yuuri."
Yuuri chuckles at that, pink specks falling across his cheeks, "I guess so. Everytime you substitute as a date I'll call you Friend A. You wanna catch a movie or something, Victor?"
Till this point, Victor has been tugging at Yuuri's jacket sleeve, egging him to move on. As Yuuri laughs at his own joke Victor abruptly lets go and spaces out, point-blank, gazing at the wide street. Yuuri doesn't make anything of it, instead he walks ahead to hail a cab. It seems to be a busy evening. None stops. Soon, Yuuri is tired and tells him the breeze is nice and the multiplex is near. Victor simply nods.
He's Friend A. At the present moment, he isn't even sure if he's complaining.
This isn't my first fanfiction here, lol, I have another account, but the stories are incomplete so I feel too guilty about starting another there. :3
Also, this story is gonna be a slow burn, so bear with me. I will not follow exactly the story I am basing this on, so um, *sweats nervously* I'll think of alternative endings. You'll be in for surprises, and lots of Viktuuri. He he. :P
Please review!