The routine was flawless. Not a step out of place, every jump perfectly rotated. Yuuri was always perfect. But apparently, perfect did not mean good. It was a concept he was finding difficult to understand. Though every step was exactly as the program described, his scores were always low. It was the same for all androids in his position. Their programs were performed to perfection, but their scores remained low.

"It's your performance, not your components." The familiar voice of Victor Nikiforov floated through the room, catching Yuuri's attention, "Your skating is perfect, but it lacks… soul."

Eyes now trained on Victor, Yuuri cocked his head, "I don't understand."

"Yeah, I should've expected that," Victor nodded to himself, stepping onto the ice, "Follow me."

At first, Yuuri simply watched as Victor's gold blades moved along the ice, propelling him forward with such grace. Even that was something Yuuri was unable to achieve. There was something about the way humans moved on the ice, something that Yuuri simply could not replicate no matter how many times he analysed them.

Following Victor onto the ice, Yuuri stood beside him, watching closely as Victor crossed his arms over his chest, "Why do you skate, Yuuri?"

"It's what I was programmed for," The answer seemed simple enough. There were androids for just about everything. His programming was design for skating. Yuuri was made to memorise programs and perform them to perfection, and he wasn't the only one. And yet every android like him had the same struggles and none of them could figure out exactly why they could not compare to human skaters.

Victor sighed, shaking his head, "But doesn't it bring you any joy?"

"Androids can't feel emotions," Yuuri's face remained stoic, his hands rested politely behind his back as he paid close attention to Victor, "Skating is simply my purpose."

It seemed his words were troubling Victor, though he couldn't be sure why. Humans were such complex creatures. There was still so much about them that Yuuri didn't understand. Victor was even more complex than most, but Yuuri wanted to understand. His programming had given him the intense need to learn. Routines, music, jumps, everything he possibly could. That need to learn stretched beyond the ice. Yuuri needed to understand the humans around him, too. Unfortunately, he couldn't just scan them to analyse their components and understand. And all the observation in the world could only teach him so much.

"Close your eyes."

"Why?"

"Because I told you to," Victor replied simply, waiting for Yuuri's eyes to shut before he continued. There was the sound of a button being pressed before music filled the room, no doubt Victor's doing, "What can you tell me about this song?"

"I don't recognise it," There were thousands of songs in Yuuri's database, but the music Victor had started playing was unfamiliar.

"That's because I had it composed for an upcoming program. What else?"

Yuuri listened closely to the music, his eyes remaining closed as he was instructed. It was a relatively simple piece, "It's comprised primarily of piano with vocal accompaniments. Both a soprano and tenor."

"No," Victor quickly stopped Yuuri further analysing the music, "No, that's not what I want to know. I want you to tell me how the music makes you feel."

"I already told you, androids don't feel," Yuuri wasn't sure what the purpose of this task was exactly. Everyone knew that androids didn't feel. It wasn't built into their programming. After all, there was simply no reason to make an android feel. Why would there be?

"Forget that for a moment. Forget about what you're made of. Just tell me what this music brings to mind," Victor insisted.

Yuuri had learned in this short exchange that any insistence that this wasn't in his programming would fall on deaf ears. It wasn't what Victor wanted to hear, and Yuuri had no choice but to attempt to understand the task he had been given. What did the music make him feel? Paying close attention to the music, Yuuri did the only thing he could, he spoke his mind, "It seems… sad. Like the singer is… alone? Are they searching for someone?"

A moment later, he felt Victor's hand on his shoulder, his voice soft but much closer than it had been a moment ago, "Maybe. Do you think they'll find who they're looking for?"

"I… don't know," Just as Yuuri spoke, the second voice in the music joined the first. Yuuri's eyes opened, meeting Victor's, "They found each other."

Victor smiled, "Yeah. They did."

"They must be happy," Yuuri smiled as he realised he had given Victor the answers he was looking for. They weren't logical answers, not really. Emotions were never logical. Yuuri could only make assumptions based off what little he knew about humans and emotions, but it seemed to be enough. Strangely, Yuuri almost wished he could feel it for himself. If he could, maybe then he could learn. Maybe then he'd understand.

"Good," Victor let his skates move him away from Yuuri, "Now I want you to skate."

Yuuri frowned, watching as Victor backed away, "You must teach me the program if you want me to skate. I don't know any programs for this music."

"You don't need one. You're going to skate whatever this music makes you feel. There are no rules, Yuuri. Just skate."

It wasn't a request that made any logical sense, but Yuuri was quickly learning that little did when it came to Victor Nikiforov. He was requested to skate, and Yuuri didn't know what he was supposed to skate. Analysing the programs already in his system, none of them really fit the music that was playing. Not perfectly. Some were close matches, but not enough.

Victor seemed to notice Yuuri's uncertainty, "Close your eyes. Skate the music. Stop analysing, Yuuri. Stop thinking. Just act."

Closing his eyes seemed to please Victor last time, and it was by far the easiest of his requests, so Yuuri did as he said, letting his eyes slip shut and focusing again on the music floating through the room. Yuuri knew he couldn't stand still forever, that Victor simply wasn't going to allow that. No thinking. No analysing. There was nothing that could possibly help him in this situation. All he could do was place his trust in Victor. As foreign of a concept it might've been, it was his only option. With his eyes remaining closed, Yuuri did his best to simply move around the rink, paying little attention to what he was doing. Sometimes he'd stretch his arms out, other times they'd remain at his sides. Sometimes he'd jump, but most of the time, he kept both feet on the ice.

Just as the second voice returned in the music, Yuuri felt Victor's hand take his own, moving with him on the ice. Despite his request to close his eyes, Yuuri opened them, wanting to see this strange man who was teaching him things he had no ability to understand. Victor was smiling as he moved, and though Yuuri didn't know what Victor was going to do next, he did his best to predict it, moving in unison with the man pulling and pushing him along the ice.

Yuuri watched closely as Victor moved away, their hands still linked together, and just as quickly as they started, he could see Victor losing his balance. Perhaps he'd pushed Victor away too hard, perhaps his grip was too soft. Yuuri didn't know. He'd never skated with anyone before, and this program was completely spontaneous. Acting in an instant, Yuuri reached out, wrapping Victor in his arms and allowing himself to hit the ice instead, Victor landing safely atop him.

"Did you just… try to protect me?" Victor smirked.

"Statistically speaking, it was more likely for you to be harmed than me. My parts can be replaced. Yours can't," Yuuri tried to explain, though he really wasn't sure why he was trying. After all, Victor didn't seem to enjoy when Yuuri spoke logically.

"Let me pretend you just cared, okay?" Victor chuckled, sitting up, "You skate beautifully."

"I don't understand. We fell." Everything Yuuri had been taught about figure skating said that falling was bad, that you were supposed to stay upright as much as possible. Balance was important, landing on the ice would result in deductions.

"Perfection isn't beautiful, Yuuri. Imperfections are. Skating is about feeling and telling a story. Mistakes happen, and they're okay. If something's too perfect, it's boring," Yuuri watched as Victor got to his feet, offering his hand, "You've just proven you're more human than you realise."

Yuuri wasn't sure why, but the compliment brought him… joy. Real joy. An emotion. Yuuri wanted to feel more, to learn, to understand. Taking Victor's hand and pulling himself up, Yuuri averted his gaze, "Can we… try again?"

Victor's smile was dazzling, "I thought you'd never ask."