so this has a ridiculously long opening
if you want to skip the setup you can read from "by mid-afternoon" and that will hopefully be less boring?
The Grand Prix ends when October does.
With it, Viktor leaves.
It's simple enough. Months ago, Viktor came to Japan to coach him. Now, though, Yuuri's competitive life as a skater is over - ice skaters only compete for a short amount of time, anyways - so, technically speaking, there's no need for Viktor to stay.
There are a lot of things Viktor still has left to do. He has to coach Yurio, who probably has many competitions ahead of him; he might even resume his skating career after his half-year break. After all, Viktor is the first place finalist, five years in a row, of the Grand Prix - and, as a side note, he's probably the hottest bachelor in the world - nothing makes Yuuri deserving of his attention.
Yuuri isn't, however, prepared when Viktor leaves on a plane a few weeks after the competition ends. He's not prepared to wake up alone without Viktor's large dog next to him. He's not prepared to go to the skating rink near his house and realize that his coach - well, former coach - isn't there waiting for him.
Stories end, people come and go. Viktor is just another chapter to his story. For once, though, Yuuri doesn't want to grow up and accept that.
(He's a selfish person, after all.)
It snows on his twenty fourth birthday.
Swirls of white fall like clouds outside, blurring into a homogenous fog further off into the distance. He watches the snowflakes fall one by one, piling themselves onto his windowsill. The snow is endless and silent and swift, just like it was back in Russia.
He spends a few minutes simply staring out of the window. There's no rush; he's always taken his birthdays off, which means he won't have to practice for the day.
After some consideration, he picks up his phone and, in the process, almost calls Viktor - almost - but then he remembers that their timezones are different, which means it's still 3AM where Viktor lives. He sighs, sets his phone back down onto the nightstand, and goes back to staring at the scenery outside.
It's pathetic, really. He's twenty four, now, and he's still so hopeless over things like this.
When he finally musters the energy to head downstairs, his sister is waiting for him, looking considerably less annoyed than she usually does. "Yuuri, do you know what day it is?"
"November twenty-ninth, right?"
"That's right," she says, "Just making sure you didn't forget your birthday, like last year."
He flushes red. "I d-didn't forget! It just... temporarily escaped my mind."
Mari scoffs and rolls her eyes. "A bit careless, are we? My little brother's getting old," she jokes, and he laughs.
"I'm a solid six years younger than you are."
"It's five and a half. And shut up."
"Happy birthday, Yuuri," his mom calls, appearing from the doorway to the kitchen. "You're up early, I see?"
"M-Mom, it's past nine o'clock," he points out.
"That's really early for you," his sister mutters under her breath, and he almost has the spirit to glare at her.
"Your relatives will be over for lunch," his mom says, "but help yourself to some rice porridge for now, because it's probably the last healthy thing you'll be eating today."
"Okay," he chirps, and takes a seat.
At noon, his relatives start crowding in. It's a family tradition for them to come at this time of year - it's partially so they can throw a congratulations party in his sake, but it's mostly just an excuse to lounge in the hot springs for a week.
He usually doesn't like when his house gets this loud, but this time, everyone is so cheerful that it's a welcome change for once. Last year, when his relatives came over for his birthday, he'd been too upset over the Grand Prix's results and his dog's passing to enjoy himself - he'd just greeted everyone briefly and spent the rest of his time alone in his room.
It's kind of nice to have someone over, though. Even with the guests who come in regularly, the place feels too silent nowadays without Viktor and Makkachin.
At some point, his phone buzzes, and he turns it on. Phichit has posted a picture of himself standing in front of a banner that says 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY, YUURI!' Below the photo is the description, which reads, "happy birthday to you, nerd, hope u enjoy it! :P"
He can't stop himself from cracking a smile.
By mid-afternoon, when he's absolutely certain his former coach is awake, Viktor still hasn't made any effort to contact him. Part of him hopes that Viktor will send him a text or call or something - a simple 'happy birthday!' would be enough, but that doesn't happen.
Perhaps he's expecting too much. He's too old to be freaking out over birthdays, anyways.
...Still, though, it's his birthday, so if there's one day he can be selfish on, that's today. He dials Viktor's number into the keypad, silently hopes for the best, and presses call.
No one answers.
That's weird. Viktor usually calls him every single day, birthday or not, and he always picks up incoming calls after one or two rings. Determined, Yuuri tries calling again.
No one answers.
And again.
"I'm sorry. The person you are calling has a voice mailbox that has not–" the phone chirps before he turns it off, frustrated. What the hell is Viktor doing, anyways?
When nighttime rolls around, he's starting to get worried. Maybe something's gone wrong and he's oblivious to it. Viktor hasn't called him all day, which would be strange even on a normal day, but today...
He considers calling Yurio, then promptly decides against it. He doesn't exactly want to be yelled at on his birthday.
But then again, he's pretty sure that Yurio knows where Viktor is. So, maybe, just this once…
"Hello?" he says when Yurio picks up. He holds the phone at a distance from his ear, just in case Yurio arbitrarily decides to screech at him for sending over a random phone call.
"What do you want, Yuuri?" the blond answers, and his voice is actually surprisingly calm for once. Weird.
"I was j-just… you know, wondering if you knew where Vik–"
"No idea."
Yuuri blinks, surprised at the snappish response. "What?"
"I don't have any knowledge about Viktor's current location. I'm hanging up."
His brown eyes grow wide, and he nearly drops his phone in his haste. "Wait, don't hang up! I called him today and he didn't pick up! I thought he was just busy, but it's been the whole day, and he still hasn't c-called and I–"
"Hold up, stop talking a mile a minute."
"But–"
"Relax."
"..." He flinches, his posture sagging slightly. "Just tell me. Is Viktor okay?"
"Oh, he's fine," Yurio assures him, sounding bored. "Seriously, calm down."
"Then where is he?"
A pause. "What time is it there?"
Wait. "W-What?"
"What time is it in Japan?"
"...It's eight thirty in the afternoon," he answers cautiously. Is this a joke?
"Eight thirty? Oh, then try calling him again, he'll pick up."
"What are you talking about?"
"Bye, Yuuri," Yurio sings, and this is the happiest he's sounded in months. "I hope your birthday isn't too lonely."
"WAIT–"
The line goes dead.
He's tempted to throw his phone in frustration as he dials Viktor's number one last time. One ring goes by. Two. Then–
"Hey, Yuuri!" Viktor's voice is cheerful and smooth, just like always, and Yuuri feels himself relax into the familiar sound. "What's up?"
"N-Nothing," he stammers, holding the phone close to his chest as if it's something precious. "I just– you haven't called today."
"Oh. That's right." Viktor laughs, sounding happier than usual. "I'm sorry, Yuuri. I forgot."
Yuuri bites his lip, perhaps a bit too hard, then regrets it immediately afterwards. "But I… called you. A few times, actually. You didn't pick up."
"Ah, yeah. I blame my phone for that."
"Did your phone break?"
"Not really. It was just... temporarily rendered unusable."
"Oh." Viktor isn't usually this enigmatic, but he'll take it. "Okay."
"So, what's up?"
What's up? Nothing much. Just celebrating my birthday, you know. Which, by the way, is pretty lonely without you. That's what he wants to say, but not even his birthday entitles him to be that much of a pretentious jerk.
Instead, he settles for the shaky intake of a breath. "I... nothing. Nothing's new."
"Really? Nothing at all?"
"Yeah. It's pretty quiet around here without you and Makkachin," Yuuri admits, trying to sound as nonchalant about it as possible.
"Oh, that's right. You used to have a dog, right?"
That bit makes him smile. So Viktor had noticed the photograph with him and Vicchan in it, after all. "Yeah, I did. He was a poodle, just like Makkachin."
"What was his name?"
"Vicchan."
"Vicchan?"
"Yeah. It was short for his full name." Yuuri stops, realizing his mistake. "Uh, I-I mean… sorry. I didn't mean to say that. Disregard that last statement."
"I want to know, though," Viktor prods. "What was his full name?"
Yuuri falls silent. He's really screwed up now. And to think, after he'd put this much effort in hiding all his posters of Viktor under the bed...
"Yuuri?"
"Y-Yeah!" He responds automatically, then feels his cheeks flush in embarrassment. "Don't laugh, okay?"
"Why would I laugh?"
"Just don't!"
"Okay, okay! I promise I won't laugh."
He takes in a deep breath. "His full name… was Viktor," he murmurs quietly. "I really admired you at the time, so I named him after you."
There's a beat of silence through the phone, and Yuuri can practically imagine Viktor being disgusted over how avid of a fanboy he used to be. It's utterly humiliating, really–
"...I'm flattered, Yuuri," Viktor says finally, and he sounds sincere enough. "All those years and you're still not quite over me, are you?"
"No. Yes. Wait, I meant– Viktor!" Yuuri yells angrily, the meaning of the sentence finally crashing down on him. "Stop messing with me!" He really, really hopes that his face isn't as red as it feels.
Of course, Viktor is right, though. The posters of him are back on the walls now that he isn't staying with Yuuri anymore. As much as Yuuri hates to admit it, he still hasn't gotten past his childhood crush, and he probably won't be anytime soon.
"Apologies, Yuuri." Viktor's voice through the phone is enough to snap him out of his thoughts. "I... have to hang up now, okay? I'm going to see someone."
Yuuri feels his heart drop. "Okay," he says, trying his best to sound happy. "Who?"
"Someone important," Viktor declares vaguely, then there's the sound of a click, and then there are only two words left on his phone screen: Call ended.
Yuuri flops back down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Soon, it will be time for dinner - katsudon and cake - though those are his two favorite foods, he can't really find the energy to celebrate right now.
He hears the chatter suddenly explode downstairs and closes his eyes, hoping the sound will dissipate soon. "I miss you, Viktor," he murmurs into the phone. Suddenly, his eyes are stinging, and tears are spilling onto his cheeks and he's making no attempt to stop them.
His breath hitches in a silent sob. It's selfish, and he knows it. He knows that he's asking too much - it's the reason why he said nothing a month ago when Viktor took his leave.
And yet, he wants Viktor by his side. So freaking much.
Every inch of him feels empty. It's like he's mostly devoid of matter, or as if his bones will simply clatter to the ground if he attempts to stand up. He closes his eyes and squeezes his pillow close to him and imagines it's a fluffy, abnormally large poodle–
And suddenly, there's a fluffy, abnormally large poodle licking his face, and he wonders if he's dreaming. "M-Makkachin?!" He exclaims, reaching out to scratch behind the dog's ears.
"That's right," Viktor says, standing in the doorway. For a few moments, Yuuri forgets how to breathe. He simply sits there, choking and sputtering.
"You!" he finally manages, forcing himself into an upright position, and points an accusing finger at the intruder. "You're not supposed to be... I thought you were…"
His former coach smiles - it's the same warm, genuine smile that Yuuri has fallen in love with. "Happy birthday, Yuuri."
He's so surprised that he doesn't feel the spare tears start to pour down his cheeks again. "So," he finally manages, "This is what you were busy with all day?"
Viktor shrugs noncommittally. "There was no cellphone reception on the plane," he says, "but I got up at 4AM just to take the earliest plane to you! It turned out that I still got here pretty, late, though–"
His sentence is cut off, because Yuuri has somehow sprinted up to him in the time he was talking and thrown his around him. "Don't…" Yuuri mutters, his voice muffled by the fabric of Viktor's shirt. "Don't leave again."
"I won't," Viktor promises, "because this time, I brought my things."
Yuuri stiffens, pulling back slightly from the embrace. "What?"
"There's a moving van outside with my stuff. I spent the month abroad packing everything so I could move here," Viktor explains.
"Move–!" Yuuri is suddenly furious. "And you didn't think tell me any of this? You just left me hanging! I missed you so much the whole month–"
Viktor blinks, wide-eyed, looking like a deer in headlights. "I'm sorry," is all he can say. "I wanted it to be a surprise."
"You'd better make it up to me," Yuuri mutters, and his coach smirks.
"I will."
The kiss that follows isn't like the one after the cup in China. This one is softer, slower, sweeter. Viktor's lips taste like nostalgia and first love and daily phone calls.
He tastes like home.
barely made yuuri's bday ;-;
i am so sorry i have no idea what this is