Backstage was utter chaos. The propmen made a final check to ensure the props were in their proper place, one actress accused another of stealing her foundation (the rest of the actors wo did their makeup pointed fingers and eventually accused the first girl herself of being careless), the costume team helped the rest of the actors put on their outfits, with the exception of one team member who mended a hole in someone's pants, threatening to kill the asshole propman responsible if the damage was visible onstage. And, in the middle of it all, the stage manager frantically yelled final reminders, while simultaneously talking to the technical team about the lighting via walkie talkie.

Yuuri was at the periphery of all this, trying his very best not to completely lose his shit. Though backstage jitters were always a thing, a lot of the senior theater majors' college degrees depended on this play, himself included. This boosted his and everyone else's nerves and stress by at least seventy thousand percent. He already had a hard time calming himself down before regular class plays – the anxiety he felt this time, however, pushed him to his breaking point. Yuuri tried the deep breathing exercises his guidance counselor taught him – slow deep breaths with five-second intervals between inhales and exhales. A wary glance at the clock above the backstage door told him there was an hour and a half left before the curtains rise. And with that, the breathing exercises failed, his breaths becoming quicker and shorter instead.

He clutched his script – wrinkled, annotated, and dog-eared – as he mumbled his lines. He kept getting fumbling as he did so, which further heightened his frustration. He cursed himself and said the lines faster, only to screw them up again. His grip on his script grew tighter, leaving more wrinkles and tears.

Yuuri's concentration was broken when one of the costume team members called out to him.

"Othello! We need to get you in costume."

She walked over to Yuuri and quickly led him by the arm to the makeshift dressing room at the other end of the room. The real dressing room was used as a locker for all their things so the costumes and makeup team created their own space at corner of the room using Japanese dividers left over from a previous play. She took his costume from one of the hanger racks and held it out to him.

"Go change over there," she said, motioning to the back of the area where thick, black curtains hung. A sheet of paper with the words "CHANGING AREA BOYS" in black marker was crudely taped to it.

Yuuri nodded, gave the girl his script to hold, and went. Only when he was inside did he peek at his costume. The costume was a white shirt with loose, puffy sleeves, a blue ornate belt, and black pants. Simple and clean cut, it was perfect for Othello's image as a powerful Venetian general.

Once he finished putting it on, Yuuri looked at himself in the mirror, inspecting the costume's fit.

A realization then hit him like a ton of bricks.

This was really happening.

He, Yuuri Katsuki, was to play Othello in the biggest play of his life. The very same Othello that was regarded as the most difficult of Shakespeare's roles. In front of a massive, judging audience.

And he wasn't ready.

Yuuri scrambled to get out of the changing room, gasping for fresh air. Unfortunately, the backstage air was stale and filled with everybody else's nervous energy, so it wasn't doing him any favors. He could feel his breathing quicken again, now with the added threat of tears falling from his eyes.

"Yuuri?" someone asked.

It was the costume member who called out to him a while ago. Her eyes were full of concern as she bounded to him and slowly gripped his arm in hers. She reached to give him his script with her other hand.

"Are you okay, Yuuri?" she continued, clinging tighter to him.

"I'm fine," he said, voice gruff, roughly pulling his arm from her grip. He took his script back quickly. "Thanks."

The costume girl's eyes were downcast, looking disappointed. But she pushed on, placing a hand on Yuuri's arm as she looked over his costume. "How's the fit? Do you think we need to adjust it anywhere?"

Yuuri shook his head. "No. Everything's fine. Now excuse me," he said flatly, effectively ending their conversation. He jogged back to his spot to rehearse his lines, still feeling as panicky and unprepared as ever. One of the makeup team members tried to stop him so he could get his makeup done, but he pretended not to hear and continued on his way.

Once back at his usual spot, Yuuri couldn't rehearse a single line without fumbling or stuttering. He lied down on the floor with his head in his hands and retried his breathing exercises.

This couldn't get any worse, right?

Right?

But of courseit does.

The class' faculty adviser and director, Mr. Yakov Feltsman, entered backstage and yelled for everyone to keep quiet. He motioned for all of them to gather in front of him by the backstage entrance. Yuuri stood up, grabbed his script, and positioned himself at the very back of the crowd. He can tell someone's by the door behind their adviser, but he couldn't make out who it was because Yakov's stocky build blocked his view.

Yakov spoke once he had everyone's attention. "During the seniors' final play, we invite alumni to watch and see how far our new talents are coming along. This year," he said, pausing as he motioned the man behind him to enter, "we have a very special guest."

The guest walked inside and Yuuri heard a collective gasp as jaws hit the floor.

Yuuri dropped his script.

It's the Viktor Nikiforov.

Like, the award-winning movie star Viktor Nikiforov. The one plastered on the walls of Yuuri's room back in Hasetsu. The one handsome one with the shiniest of silver hair, the brightest of blue eyes. and the deadliest of defined jawlines. The one that could who got him to pursue acting in the first place.

Yeah, that one.

Viktor waved at them, beaming his billion-dollar smile. He wore a three-piece navy blue and white pinstripe suit with a metallic gold necktie. The outfit complemented his lean but athletic figure and brought out his eyes. Yuuri thought he looked amazing.

"Hey everybody!" Viktor said cheerfully.

Oh my god, he speaks, Yuuri thought. The man's slight Russian accent was sexier in person, and the actual person even more so.

"I'm so glad to see so many of you here!" Viktor said with a smile brighter than the one he initially gave, arms outstretched. "I can tell most of you are tired – this isthe most stressful day of your entire undergrad lives – but that's okay!"

Viktor paused for a moment, assessing his audience. Yuuri felt the tension and panic rise in the room. He honestly doesn't know if Viktor is here to give them a pep talk or to preempt their doom. The latter man broke the silence by laughing.

"Really, you're all so tense! The probability of you screwing up is higher if you keep that up, you know."

To this Yuuri's class gave a tiny, nervous chuckle. Viktor replied with a giggle. "I've been through this myself so I know how hard you've all had to work for this. I also know that you wish you had more time to perfect this or that. But no time in the world can ever make you feel ready, so just go with it! You've all prepared well and done what you can – that's more than what you can ask for."

The class' mood lightened up a bit. Some of them even gave Viktor small smiles.

"Lastly, remember everything on that stage and everything behind it is love – you wouldn't be in theater if you didn't love it. So it's not an exaggeration to say you've all lent your hearts to this production," Viktor continued, trying his best to make eye contact with everyone gathered. The moment he locked eyes with Yuuri the latter man thought he would burst into flames.

"And if you've survived Yakov's Spartan methods, then those hearts are strong. Break a leg!"

The class cheered. Yuuri can feel himself getting pumped up, charmed by Viktor's speech.

"Oh, and before I forget," Viktor added, voice low. "I'll be watching you."

The class was momentarily refilled with nervous energy. But since this was the second time Viktor teased them, no one took it to heart. Instead, they chuckle and hover around Viktor, asking for selfies.

Everyone except Yuuri.

Viktor's pep talk did the opposite for him. While the Russian actor's surprise appearance first put him on a delightful high, reality's weight made him crash and burn.

Viktor Nikiforov, his idol and celebrity crush of many years, will be watching him. And if Viktor will, then surely several of the school's distinguished alumni will too. Plus all the theater faculty, the students, and the staff.

In his mind's eye Yuuri saw all those eyes scrutinizing his performance, piercing his skin and dissecting his body with their gaze, judging whether he should graduate or not. He can already hear them say he was shit and he shouldn't graduate. Afterwards he'd have to return home to Hasetsu with his tail between his legs as the failure who wasted his parents' money.

At this point, his barely contained panic turned into a full-blown panic attack.

He was very sure he was going to fuck up.

Yuuri's breathing suddenly got heavier. His throat felt constrained and the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes a while ago started to run down his cheeks. He bent down and shakily picked up his neglected script. His eyes met with Viktor's once he rose.

"Photo?" the Russian asked.

Yuuri was stunned. He gave Viktor a teary, wide-eyed stare.

He wasn't even sure if he could say something because he'd have to breathe first, which he stopped doing the moment Viktor spoke to him.

Viktor looked at him expectantly, eyebrows raised. Yuuri realized the Viktor was waiting for him to answer.

While he stared and cried silently.

Panicked and embarrassed, Yuuri walked briskly away.

He left the backstage area with his head lowered. Once out the door, he ran full speed up the stairwell and into the men's bathroom at the second floor. He entered a bathroom stall, locked the door, and started full-on sobbing with his head in his hands.

I can't do this, I can't do this, I can't do this.

Yakov knew he didn't handle pressure well. Why did the man even give him Othello's role? He wasn't enough. There were better actors in class. Surely someone could replace him?

Yuuri already knew the answer. An extra actor can be replaced quickly. But Othello? Othello had so many lines it would be impossible to find a replacement in less than an hour. Even if they did miraculously find someone who memorized the play by heart, they still can't teach blocking and stage directions in such a short amount of time.

If he did perform though, it was a guarantee that he'd screw up monumentally.

Yuuri wasn't sure if he'd rather let the class down by performing or by doing nothing at all.

After a sigh and a frustrated hand through his hair, he pulled out his phone to try and call someone. Maybe Phichit, his ever cheerful roommate. He dialed Phichit's number, only to be lead to voicemail.

"Hey! It's Phichit! Can't pick up right now, got a final to ace. Feel free to leave a message!"

Right, Phichit told him he had a final that would end thirty minutes before the show. Yuuri cancelled the call with shaky hands.

In a final attempt to get a grip, he started doing his breathing exercises again. He started breathing deep breaths and exhaling long and slow. He began to look at his surroundings to ground himself. He saw the tiled floor, the old, wooden bathroom stall, and the crappy graffiti all over it. He heard the muffled sound of cars driving past the street below.

When he finished listing off what he saw and heard in his surroundings, he began to recount information about himself.

What was his name? Yuuri Katsuki.

How old was he? Twenty-two.

Where was he? In New York. In one of the best theater schools in the world.

What was he studying? Acting.

How's it going? Well enough.

Yuuri started calming down. He felt mind clear up and his breathing normalize.

Until his phone started ringing.

He whipped out his phone from his pants pocket and looked at the caller ID. His eyebrows arched in mild surprise to find that it was his mother on FaceTime. He picked it up.

"Hello, Yuuri?" his mother started. It was comforting to hear her speak Japanese.

"Hi mom. I'm doing okay," he replied, still not quite believing what he said.

"That's good, honey. I know this is a stressful time for you. I called to tell you ganbare!"

"Thank you," Yuuri replied, a small smile on his face. "You know in English, they say 'break a leg' instead, because they believe that good luck will jinx them."

"Good thing we're speaking in Japanese then," his mother quipped with a laugh.

He laughed too. "How's Vicchan?"

Yuuri's mother went silent. Then he heard her take a deep breath. "Kaa-san?"

"Yuuri, look, I'm sorry I can't lie to you," his mother finally said, voice low. "You know how terrible I am at lying. Vicchan he… he passed away this morning."

The news was the final nail on the coffin of his pretend calmness. Vicchan, his beloved dog, was dead. And he… wasn't there for him. Like he won't be for his class.

Yuuri started sobbing harder than he did before. He was not okay.

-oOo-

"Othello! Where the fuck is Othello?!"

Viktor heard someone yell to his left, just as he finished his selfie and autograph session with Yakov's students. It was the class' visibly stressed stage manager. Her long dark hair was in a messy ponytail, there were dark bags under her eyes, and she looked deathly pale.

"Yuuri!" the stage manager yelled again, exasperated. "Has anyone see him?! He's not answering his phone and we're on in 30 minutes!"

Nobody responded. More specifically, they couldn't. The actors sat in a circle, hands linked while performing speech exercises. On the other side of the room, the costume and props members were preoccupied with laying out the props and costumes by scene. Yakov, the only responsible faculty member that could help them, left backstage to greet the other guests.

The stage manager sighed in frustration at their lack of reaction. She couldn't even be mad.

Viktor approached her, seeing as he was the only one free to do so. "Do you need some help?" he asked.

Her eyes lit up but she quickly attempted to keep her face neutral. "I don't think Mr. Feltsman would allow me to ask you for help," she paused, considering what she was about to say next. "But yes, I do. Please. Our Othello's gone missing."

"Yuuri?"

"Yeah, it's Yuuri. The Japanese guy with the glasses. Sounds like a generic description but he's the only one in our class."

There was a flash of recognition in Viktor's eyes. He remembered Yuuri.

How could he not? Yuuri was the only person who ever ran away crying from him when he asked if they wanted a photo.

"I saw him! He left backstage."

"Shit! Um, can you please look for him over there? I'll cover the front of the theater. There's not much time."

"Yes, of course."

"Thank you!" she said gratefully before she ran outside.

As the stage manager left, Viktor suddenly realized that he was pretty much tasked of looking for a needle in a haystack. Assuming the school left everything the way it was when he was in college, he recalled he had two floors with long, winding halls to go through to look for Yuuri. And this was only if the latter man didn't leave the building.

Still, he figured he had to start somewhere.

He was about to begin his search someone called him

"Mr. Nikiforov?"

He turned to see one of the girls from the costume department. She looked up at him shyly with doe-like eyes.

"Yes?" he replied. There was a smile on his face but a slight impatience in his tone.

"S-sorry but i-if you're looking for Yuuri," she said, fumbling with her hands, "you should try going to the men's bathroom on the second floor."

"How do you know he'd be there?"

"We've had a few classes together and right before plays I always saw him go there by himself."

"Why didn't you tell anyone sooner? Or look for him yourself?" he scolded. Normally he'd be kinder to strangers but there wouldn't have been a problem if this girl spoke up earlier. Wasting time is a sin in theater, he thought.

"B-because! I know that's his quiet place. And… I don't think he wants to see me there." She answered, head low.

Viktor raised an inquisitive eyebrow but said nothing. There was a story there, but he didn't have the time to hear it.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you," he said, waving the girl off. "But thank you for telling me. I'll bring him back soon."

Viktor quickly left backstage and climbed the stairs to the second floor. The men's bathroom was to the left, at the end of the hall. As he walked, he imagined what he would say to Yuuri. How would he go about it? Would he scold Yuuri like he did the costume department girl? Or would he gently coax him to go back? He didn't have enough time to think as he reached the bathroom door soon enough. After a deep breath, he pushed it open.

The bathroom looked empty. All the stalls were open, save for the one in the middle. Viktor carefully made his way to it and heard the faint sound of whimpering. The sound stopped once he'd managed to make it in front of stall.

He mentally counted to three and spoke.

"Yuuri?" he said.

There was no response. He tried again.

"Yuuri? Is that you? It's Viktor Nikiforov."

"Viktor?" the person inside the stall croaked. Their voice was hoarse, which Viktor noted was the result of crying.

"Yup, it's me. This is Yuuri, right?"

"…Yes."

Viktor smiled. He'd found him. But now he had another problem: how can he convince Yuuri to exit the stall and act in the play?

"Um, Yuuri," he cooed, unsure of what to say next. "Are you okay? Would you like some water?"

"I-I want to go home."

"Yuuri, you can't do that. You have a show to perform. Your class needs you."

There was a pause. Viktor should not have said that.

"I'm n-not good enough!" Yuuri replied, hand loudly slamming against the bathroom stall door, making Viktor flinch. "Mr. Feltsman shouldn't have picked me to play Othello!"

Viktor sighed. Yuuri started crying again. Guilt-tripping him like this wasn't going to work.

"Yuuri," Viktor began again. "Can you open the door for me? Please? I only want to talk to you."

"You are talking to me."

"I meant face-to-face. Pretty please?"

After a pause Yuuri unlocked the door and swung it open. He was seated on the toilet seat, arms and knees brought together to make himself look smaller. His continuously vibrating phone was in his shaking hands. Viktor noted his eyes were red and puffy from crying, his glasses, wet from tears, were barely hanging on to his nose bridge, and his disheveled hair fell stickily in front of his face. He looked at Viktor like a scared, defenseless animal.

Viktor felt a tug at his heart. Unsteadily, he knelt in front of the younger man.

"May I… hold your hands?" he asked, voice giving away his uncertainty. To be honest, Viktor had no idea what he was doing. Yuuri was crying in front of him, obviously stressed and panicked, and he wanted to try his best to calm the younger man down.

Yuuri gave him a small nod and Viktor gently took the younger man's hands in his. As he did so, he slowly pried Yuuri's phone from the younger man's hand and put it on the ground.

He looked Yuuri directly in the eyes. The latter man stared at him wide-eyed and his heart skipped a beat. They were a lovely shade of chocolate brown.

"Yuuri," he said. This is the third time during their conversation that he used the Yuuri's name and he felt like he couldn't say it enough. "I know you're panicked and stressed out right now, but I believe you can do this, okay? Yakov wouldn't pick you to be Othello if he didn't see that you had it in you. And," he gripped Yuuri's hand's tighter, "I've known you for less than an hour but I believe in you, too."

Yuuri's stopped crying at this point, and Viktor could tell that his hands stopped shaking. He continued. "Remember what I said about you all lending your hearts to this production?" Yuuri nodded in response. "Well, actors lend more of their hearts than others. We lend our hearts so that the characters on stage come alive."

Seeing that he had Yuuri's full attention, Viktor brought the latter man's hands closer to his chest. "Y-Yuuri," he stammered. "If you feel like your heart isn't enough for this role I can lend you mine."

Viktor's face suddenly flushed red. What the hell was he saying to a crying guy he just met? He meant it, but not like romantically or anything, since he knew more than anyone how fragile actors were. But what did Yuuri think?

Yuuri laughed. It was a melodic, heartfelt laugh that made Viktor's heart pound harder. "I knew you had a flair for the dramatic but I didn't know you were such a cheeseball" he said.

"I meant it Yuuri! You got this! How can you fail when you have Viktor Nikiforv's heart in your hands? You're basically infallible!"

Yuuri laughed at him again. "Not only are you a cheeseball, you're an egotistical cheeseball."

Viktor gave him a genuine smile. "Well, at least I know you're better now. So, do you think you can do this?"

Yuuri gave him a small nod. "I think I can," Yuuri looked him in the eye. "Thank you."

"No problem. Do you want to wash your face before we head back?"

Yuuri nodded again and unclasped their hands as he headed for the sink. Viktor noticed Yuuri's phone was vibrating again. He peeked at the screen and the words Stage Managerflashed back at him.

"Hey, Yuuri, the stage manager's calling you. Do you want me to pick it up?"

"Yes please," Yuuri replied between splashes of water.

Viktor picked it up. He reintroduced himself to her again and told her that he'd found Yuuri and that they'd be back in five minutes. Viktor heard her sigh in relief before he ended the call. "Are you ready, Yuuri?"

"Yeah. Thank you again, Viktor."

"And I keep telling you, no problem." Viktor replied, handing Yuuri his phone back. "So, shall we?"

Yuuri and Viktor walked side by side until they reached the backstage area. No words were exchanged between them, but Viktor could see the change in Yuuri. There was a determined fire within those beautiful eyes, not that defenseless animal look Viktor saw earlier. Once they reached backstage the stage manager yanked Yuuri by the hand, thanked Viktor profusely, and whisked Yuuri away to get his make-up done. "We owe you, Viktor!" she yelled, before turning her back and telling everyone to get into position.

While Viktor didn't like being tossed aside so rapidly, he understood that the class had work to do. He took this as his turn to leave backstage and head for the theater lobby, where a stars-struck usher lead him to his reserved seat on front row. Nobody else made a fuss as he entered, probably because the ushers were all in a hurry to get everyone seated and made no time for distractions. He thanked the usher who guided him to his seat with his billion-dollar smile, making the poor girl blush. As he sat down, he saw his young, blonde companion was already on the seat next to his, preoccupied with scrolling through his phone.

"Sorry I took so long, Yuri."

The boy didn't even spare him a glance. "I don't really give a shit about where you go, Viktor. So long as you give me a ride back."

"I missed you too," Viktor retorted.

Yuri gave him a low, pissed-off growl in reply. As he did, the lights in the theater started dimming and a voice told them that it would be ten minutes before the performance began.

"So, what's so great about Othello, anyway?" Yuri asked.

"It's a classic, Yuri. As an actor you should pay attention."

"Othello, Oshmellow," Yuri huffed.

The conversation between them died. Soon enough the theater was enveloped in darkness and the curtains parted. Viktor noted that they were truthful to Shakespeare with the bare set design. Loud footsteps were heard on the right as the actors playing Roderigo and Iago took the stage. Viktor thought they were good, but were obviously nervous. He wanted them to get their scene over with so he could see Yuuri, who he recalled would only be making an appearance on the second scene. Viktor would be lying if he said he wasn't intrigued by the fact that the crying guy in the bathroom stall was good enough for Yakov to pick as Othello.

The first scene ended with the two actors exiting on stage left. The lights dim for a moment before the second scene started.

Viktor audibly gasped when Yuuri took the stage.

Yuuri did a 180 in the short amount of time it took him to get ready. His glasses were gone and his formerly disheveled hair was neatly slicked back. There was a cape that draped over his shoulders and pinned on his chest. His posture is straight and his eyes. His eyes! The fire and determination Viktor saw on their way backstage was so visible Yuuri practically glowed with it.

In short, Viktor thought Yuuri was absolutely mesmerizing.

Then, he spoke.

"'Tis better as it is."

It was a simple first line, but Viktor though he was amazing. Yuuri continued to grab Viktor's attention as the play progressed, until Viktor couldn't even take his eyes off him. He'd watched and performed Shakespeare countless times during his student days but Yuuri gave them a whole new refreshing light with the way he magnificently delivered his lines – the way he showed anger, grief, joy – and bounced off the energy of other actors.

Viktor didn't even realize that the play was over when Yuuri/Othello brought the hidden sword from his costume and killed himself. He was stunned. Then, he started clapping.

When the curtains rose and the actors each give their final bow, Viktor directed his eyes at Yuuri. The younger man was smiling from ear to ear. As Yuuri walked to the middle of the stage to take his bow, Viktor immediately leaped of his seat and cheered Yuuri on. The latter man noticed him (he was Viktor Nikiforov – on front row – how could Yuuri not?), smiled, and mouthed "thank you." Once Yuuri bowed, Viktor realized other audience members also gave the younger man a standing ovation. Even Yuri, with all his faux apathy, begrudgingly stood up and clapped. The only thing that ruined the moment for Viktor was that it ended – Yuuri broke eye contact with him when he returned to the line of actors, which made Viktor feel slightly miffed.

After Yuuri returned to the line of actors, they all walked hand in hand to the front of the stage to take one final group bow. There was a final roar of applause as the curtains were drawn closed.

With the clapping done and the audience's cheers down, Viktor turned to his young, grumpy companion.

"So, how was it?" he inquired.

"It was… it wasn't bad," Yuri mumbled.

Viktor lightly smacked Yuri on the shoulder. "Come on, let's get out of here. I want to buy the playbill."

People started cheering as soon as Viktor stepped foot on the lobby. For a second, he thought they were cheering for him but soon realized they were cheering for the cast, who made their way to the lobby to greet the audience as they exited the theater.

That meant he could greet Yuuri too, right?

He spotted Yuuri to his left, talking with Yakov and the stage manager. He waved his hand to call Yuuri's attention and shouted.

"Yuu-"

"YUURI!" someone screeched as they shoved him aside.

What the hell?

His attacker was a lithe, tan man. Viktor saw him make a beeline to Yuuri and hugged the latter man tight. Viktor can't help but feel miffed all over again. The man dragged Yuuri farther from where Viktor stood as more people pouted out of the theater. Since the crowd was so dense, he couldn't see where the pushy man dragged Yuuri off to.

With a resigned sigh, Viktor decided he wouldn't be able to see Yuuri again that night.

But, with Yuuri as talented as he is, he expected they'll meet again soon. Whether onstage or behind it.