Chapter One: Yuuri.
Yuuki Katsuki was good with numbers. He could figure a 15% tip at a restaurant with ease, or multiply three digit numbers in his head. His family and few friends thought it was a cool trick, and sometimes it was a bit of a conversation starter.
But those weren't the numbers that mattered to Yuuri. He was more concerned with calories. Calories burned, consumed, skipped, and cried over. He knew how many calories were in a pork cutlet bowl, how many calories an hour of figure skating burned, and how many calories he could eat in a day to make his goal weights.
It'd grown into something of an obsession for Yuuri. But it hardly felt like a problem to him. He was merely managing his appearance. As a ice skater, it was very important that he maintained a healthy weight. And a slightly lower than healthy weight would only help him make his jumps better, and look better in his skating outfits.
It was also something for Yuuri to focus on. He was quick to fall into bouts of depression and resurfacing was growing harder and harder each time. He needed something to keep himself grounded.
Losing weight was easy, in theory. Create a caloric deficit. Burn more calories than you consume. But it was easier said than done. He was challenging himself, building control and confidence by fighting the need to eat. It was how he had managed to get to his lowest weight ever for the second half of the Grand Prix Finals tomorrow. It was how he finally got his face, which always managed to hold a bit of baby fat, to slim down.
It was hard at times, for Yuuri to look in the mirror and see any change- he had to rely on the scale for that. But he knew he had made some progress when his mother clutched his cheek tenderly and said that his face looked a touch hollow. He had barely kept the smile off his face, but the happiness that lifted his heart made it that much easier to turn down the pork cutlet bowl she offered in earnest.
Yuuri sat on the edge of his bed, stretching gently. He had just finished a very hot shower and was still lazing around in his boxer briefs. Tomorrow was the free skate and Yuuri was so glad Celestino got him his own hotel room this time. The short program had landed Yuuri in third place, better than Yuuri had hoped. Standing up, Yuuri happily walked over to his suitcase and dug out a sweater to wear. Yuuri was feeling way too cold to fall asleep so under dressed.
Yuuri yanked the sweater on as he wandered into the bathroom to brush his teeth. The hotel bathroom had a full length mirror. Something Yuuri was too paranoid to get for his own room back home. He didn't want his family to think he had become self obsessed or anything of the like.
But he had, in a way. Yuuri didn't even try to control the urge to inspect himself in the mirror. In public bathrooms, Yuuri didn't dare look up as he washed his hands. He could watch others fixing their hair or something of the like out of the corner of his eyes, but the thought of doing the same made him blush in shame.
Here, alone in his hotel room, he was free to let his eyes bore into his reflection. He looked the same as he did yesterday, but he tried to find differences. Was the horrible fat that liked to cling to his sides gone yet? He slid the soft green material of his sweater up to reveal pale, pale skin.
He could admit that his stomach looked a bit concave. He could even admit his skin was starting to pull tight to his ribs.
But he was absolutely certain that that was fat collected at his hips. He quickly yanked the sweater down in disappointment.
When the fabric of the sweater bunched and pooled he realized something that made him feel a little better. Yuuri remember quite clearly that he got his beloved green sweater the summer before his last year of high school. Five years ago. Five years ago the sweater was a comfortable fit. Now it hung off his thin frame and seemed fashionably oversized.
Feeling lighter physically and emotionally at this revelation, Yuuri quickly brushed his teeth and jumped into bed. He had a very big day tomorrow and he knew a lack of sleep affected him horribly. Pulling his poodle plushie in close, Yuuri smiled and closed his tired eyes.
Yuuri slept in past Celestino calling him to breakfast. Or rather, he kept his eyes firmly closed and ignored his coach pounding on his door. Celestino gave up after a few minutes and then it was safe for Yuuri to climb out of bed. He couldn't eat breakfast on a day as important as this. The thought of food weighing him down and bloating his stomach was making him anxious.
So instead of focusing on that, Yuuri changed into sweats. He had spied a gym when he walked through the hotel lobby earlier. Exiting his room with a towel and a bottle of water, Yuuri peeked both ways before leaving his room incase his coach was still lurking in the halls. Lately he was being more insistent on trying to take Yuuri to meals. Previously, Yuuri could just poke at a bowl of fruit and the man was content. Last time Yuuri was bullied into attending a meal with Celestino, his coach has pushed and question Yuuri's appetite until Yuuri was a sweaty, nervous mess.
Jogging down the stairs in favor of the elevator, Yuuri sighed at the little ways his life was becoming more complicated. To think, once upon a time, calorie was little more than a word to him. Something Yuuko or his mother would complained about. He knew his pork cutlet bowls were 900 calories and he knew that apples were 60. Those numbers meant very little to him. But now he knew better, and it had been five years since Yuuri had eaten a pork cutlet bowl.
As soon as Yuuri reached the gym, he started up a treadmill. He prefered cardio, fearing the added bulk of muscle. Thirty minutes later, he was breathing hard and his shirt was sticking to his sweaty back. His pace slowed when he felt someone standing behind him. Looking over his shoulder, he nearly tripped when he saw Christophe Giacometti. The older man was watching him carely, green eyes intense with appraisal.
Thinking the skater wanted the machine, Yuuri reluctantly ended his session and jumped off. He was further surprised when the skater spoke to him.
"You're Yuuri Katsuki, right?" The man asked, his voice deep and pleasantly seductive.
Yuuri nodded quickly, his throat feeling too tight with nerves to speak.
"I've seen some videos of you, but I missed your short program look….different," Christophe pondered openly. He took a few steps towards Yuuri, closing the distance. "You look...smaller...in person, maybe?"
"Oh," Yuuri's soft reply was coupled with wide, brown eyes and shallow breaths.
The Swiss man laughed charismatically, "Cute."
Spots were starting to appear at the corners of Yuuri's eyes and he wasn't sure if it was from his workout or the handsome man standing in front of him.
"Leave the poor guy alone, Christophe!" a warm, friendly voice called. Yuuri looked over the Swiss man's shoulder and there stood his idol. The man he had spent the better part of his life dreaming of. Viktor Nikiforov.
Now he really felt light-headed. Viktor's eyes met his and Yuuri's heart seized and sputtered pathetically. Viktor stared at him oddly, before switching to a slight smile.
"Viktor! Finally, I've been looking for you, my dear friend. Let's have breakfast together," Christophe exclaimed. He looked back at as if he suddenly remembered Yuuri's existence. "I look forward to seeing your free skate. Watch mine too, okay?"
Yuuri nodded numbly, he couldn't take his eyes off his idol. Viktor was so much more attractive than what any computer or phone screen could capture. His hair wasn't a light blonde like it sometimes looked in picture, but rather a iridescent, flowing silver.
Yuuri could feel Viktor's eyes on him, too, but his mind screamed ugly words at him. Screamed that he was only looking because Yuuri's chubby looks were so hard to ignore. The voices must have been right, because Christophe and Viktor, his idol, turned and left, talking and laughing between each other.
Viktor jumped back onto the treadmill with renewed vigor. Maybe if he was bit smaller, a little bit less of a trouble, Viktor would talk and laugh with him, too.
The crowd was roaring. Yuuri was leaning hard against the barrier. He felt unnaturally weak. His eyes struggled to focus in all his dizziness, as the ice was cleared of plushies and flowers thrown in the wake of Viktor's free skate.
His performance was breathtaking-maybe that was why he felt so light hearted now. He had rushed to the ice as soon as his idol's name was called and watched in pure adoration. Each quad was executed perfectly, each spin pulled at heart strings, and each step sequence put even Yuuri's best to shame.
There was no jealousy in Yuuri's heart. How could you be jealous of someone on a completely differently skill level? He was no fool. A beggar saw no purpose in comparing himself to a king.
When Yuuri made it into the Grand Prix Finals, he had some small hope that he could prove himself to his idol. He was completing with him directly, so in a way, he was competing on the same standing as he had always hoped.
But now Yuuri knew for certain that was far from the truth. Viktor still stood head and shoulders above the competition. He strong, lithe form loomed in the distance, god-like.
Before Yuuri knew what was happening, the ice had been cleared off, and Celestino was snapping his fingers in front of his face.
Legs that shook ever so slightly stepped onto the ice. Suddenly noticing the cold, Yuuri shivered violently. He skated out the the center of the ice as his track started playing over speakers. Yuuri could hear Celestino calling supportive words over the music, but Yuuri couldn't pick apart the words in all his anxiousness.
He couldn't tell which was worse, his empty stomach that was starting to send out painful waves of hunger, or the slight pressure between his eyes and his blurry, shifting vision. Yuuri knew the tell tale signs. He had passed out a few times before.
He started his program a half second late. He fought the urge to speed through it to catch up to the beat. He needed to focus. He wouldn't pass out. He had eaten not too long ago. On Tuesday.
His closed his eyes through a spin, ignoring how his head also spun. What day was it again?
He held his head proudly and his arms barely wavered. His theme this season was "Creation". He hoped Viktor was watching. He hoped his idol was watching him create.
Celestino had chosen the music, as usual, but he had thought up the backstory.
In this story he was an artist. A sculptor, to be exact, he worked away, day and night, at ice. With the tools of his trade, he carved and picked at the heavy, cloudy block. Building by taking away. Stripping layers, yet adding depth, adding worth. Like this artist, Yuuri was making something beautiful from something of little worth- ice and himself.
He moved into the second part of his program. His first jump was perfect. The second even better. The last was a quad toe loop, his favorite. The black spots began to crowd out more of his vision. He nearly fell out of the quad but held strong til the end.
The track ended, his final pose on his knees, the passionate artist with arms spread, displaying with pure abandon his creation. His new self.
The crowd went wild. It was far from the reaction to Viktor's free skate, but he would probably beat his own best score. Would it be enough to draw Viktor's attention?
His slowly moved off the ice, but first scooped up a plushie shaped like a peach. He waved shyly to the crowd, and squeezed the peach to calm his buzzing nerves.
The cheers and the light headedness only grew. His stamina was impressive, but he shouldn't have pushed himself on the treadmill so much. Drawing closer to the barrier, the flashing cameras grew impossible to ignore.
Celestino stood ready to receive him.
And so was Viktor Nikiforov.
Could it be true? Or did the Russian just happen to be standing near the kiss and cry? He had just received his own scores, after all.
As he drew closer, he found that each breath in satisfied his lungs less and less. Finally his skates left the ice, but by then the black splotched were dominating his vision. Celestino's voice was booming but impossible to understand.
"Yuuri?" This was a different, melodious voice. Yuuri tried to focus for a moment longer. Inches from his face, was his idol, standing with his arms slightly outstretched towards Yuuri. He couldn't pinpoint the expression on his face.
He wanted to answer, and to decipher the expression, but his strength was slipping away too quickly.
Noo, he panicked internally. This couldn't be happening here, not now. But his body wouldn't listen to him.
Instead it began a plummet to the cold cement ground, his eyelids sliding shut before he could feel the impact.
Chapter One: Viktor.
Viktor jumped on his bed in glee. He had put together a very surprising free skate for tomorrow and he was very excited to show it off to this new audience. He was currently in first after the short program, but Christophe was closing in on him. The Swiss man was certain he would beat him this time. Viktor, however, knew this was unlikely. For starters, his was more technically challenging and would earn more base points. Viktor also had a trick up his sleeve. Unlike his free skates at his qualifying competitions, he was going to include a quad in the second half. He had been working on his stamina for this. A quad flip, his signature move.
If possible, he jumped with more glee. After nearly kicking a pillow into a lamp, Viktor decided he should call it a night.
Viktor woke early, excitement preventing him from lazing in bed like he liked to do. Changing into a tracksuit, he headed down to the gym. A short workout before breakfast always helped wake him up.
But Christophe Giacometti got in the way of that.
Upon walking into the hotel faculties, he immediately noticed the Swiss man leering over an Asian man who looked impossibly flustered. Rolling his eyes, Viktor approached.
"Leave the poor guy alone, Christophe!" He called out in good nature. When Viktor got close enough, he realized his friend was speaking to Yuuri Katsuki. The crowd surprising Japanese skater, currently third in the leaderboards.
Viktor examined him with great interest. His short program had been beautiful but had a slight shaky feel to it. He had touched down during a triple but landed everything else. On the ice, the skater had underlying air of mystery and innocent seduction.
Off the ice, he was...cute-and sputtering, if not a bit concerningly skinny. Viktor's eyes zoned in the other skater. He actually was very concerningly skinny. In his sweaty state, his shirt clung to him and Viktor swore he could see the slight outline of ribs. His shirt hung off his collar bones like a shirt off a hanger.
Viktor suddenly wanted to reach into his gym bag to offer the other man a protein bar but Christophe distracted him.
"Viktor! Finally, I've been looking for you, my dear friend. Let's have breakfast together," His friend insisted. Viktor nodded easily. He disliked cardio anyways. Christophe paused to say something to Yuuri and Viktor used to opportunity to look the man over again.
He was very skinny, yes, but when Viktor focused on something other than his seemingly fragile body, he realized his was beautiful, and gave off a very shy and sincere air. His inky black hair was pushed back with sweat and in contrast his ivory skin nearly glowed. And his eyes. They were a warm and expressive brown. In that moment they seemed tired but in awe.
Viktor torn his eyes off of Yuuri when he felt Christophe pulling him away, jabbering in his ear about food options. Viktor allowed the Swiss man to pull him away but let his thoughts stay cemented on Yuuri Katsuki.
He was rather intriguing wasn't he? Viktor could vaguely remembering having seen videos of the man skating at previous competitions, but he had been noticeably heavy. Not overweight, but rather holding a youthful layer of chub. It seemed cute and fitting with his young looks. Now he looked slightly older, and much slimmer. Viktor wasn't sure if it was an improvement or not. Then he thought of the outline of ribs through a sweat stained shirt and swallowed nervously. Definitely not.
Viktor decided he wanted to become friends with Yuuri Katsuki. And he regretted not having invited Yuuri to breakfast with them. The skater really could use a meal.
In the meantime, Viktor decided he could do a bit of information gathering. His first source would be none other than Christophe, seeing as how the man had been conversing with Yuuri.
"Is Yuuri Katsuki is friend of ours?" Vikor asked, trying for nonchalance, as Christophe finally pulled them into a cafe he deemed acceptable.
"Yuuri? Cute, isn't he?" Christophe acknowledged easily. "He's seems to kept to himself and the public doesn't know much about him. I was just meeting him then."
"Ah," Viktor couldn't mask the disappointment in his voice. Who would he get insider information from, in that case?
"Why do you ask? See something you like?" Christophe wagged his eyebrows at Viktor, laughing all the while.
"Never have too many friends," Viktor mumbled weakly.
"Well, you have my blessing, even though I saw him first," Christophe allowed jokingly. "He's a bit too boney for my taste. The Japanese must take dieting much more seriously than we do."
Viktor stiffened at the comment and wanted to defend Yuuri Katsuki, but Christophe wasn't wrong. Instead Viktor tried to confirm something.
"He wasn't so skinny last season, correct?" Viktor implored.
"Hmm, definitely not." But Christophe had already moved past the conversation and was examining a menu with much greater interest, not having looked up when he answered Viktor. Letting the conversation fade away, Viktor picked up his own menu.
He swore to himself to speak to Yuuri at the next available time, but first had to make it through breakfast.
His free skate went off without a hitch. He was able to connect with the crowd and make them feel what he felt with each step. Beaming, he blew kisses with both hands, reveling in how the cheering only picked up in response.
Stepping off the ice, he remembered that Yuuri Katsuki was to skate right after him. Viktor silently prayed that he could get out of the kiss and cry as quick as possible.
He had smashed the record high for a free skate once again. And the scores came quickly- the gods had answered his prayers. He found a spot from the barrier to watch just moments after Yuuri's track started.
Yuuri looked different on the ice than he did in the gym. There was less sweat, for starters. His raven hair was pushed back and gone were his clunky glasses. The simple alterations changed his look from frazzled and adorable to sensual and beautiful. Did the skater know he had this power? Viktor presses himself against the glass in a vain effort to get closer.
Yuuri started a half beat late. Or did he? The resulting pace, a barely under the surface franticness, set the mood so well it had to be intentional. His expression was of longing and determination. He was reaching for something he could not have, but desired more than anything.
Was there even music playing? Viktor wasn't so sure anymore. Yuuri's presentation devoured the rhythm and spat out something beautiful and free from any instrumental control. Black hair whipped out of place, framing his face carelessly.
He landed move after move on steady legs, fighting through a slight tremor Viktor could see from his spot at the barrier. Was it too much for him? Viktor could see his chest heaving, but the hunger and confidence did not leave his eyes. All his jumps were planned in his second half, a show of natural stamina.
Viktor had never watched another skate in such anticipation before. He knew for certain that if Yuuri fell, he would also feel the sting of hard ice.
But he didn't fall. He completed his quad toe loop, and Viktor almost didn't notice how his legs shook and wavered in landing.
As the free skate came to an end, Yuuri slowed and lowered himself down onto his knees. The skater stretched out his arm. Was what he wanted in reach or was it an act of desperation? His expression was serene, even as his body shook and his mouth hung open to take in as much air as possible.
The stadium exploded in applause and a suddenly blushing and shy Yuuri climbed to his feet. Slowly moving towards the gate, he scooped up a plushie and waved to the crowd.
Wanting to be there to receive him, Viktor ran to the same gate. This would be the perfect opportunity to speak to him. With his endorphins still high, maybe Yuuri would be more confident and willing to talk.
As the Japanese skater approached, Viktor realized something was wrong. The man's eyes were too hazy, and his chest was still heaving. It looked painful. By the time he reached the barrier, Viktor could actually hear his frenzied breathing.
He stepped off the ice with legs that shook like dead leaves in the wind. Yuuri's coach, an American Viktor had never met, was trying to get his attention but was quickly adopting a concerned look.
When he began to sway slightly, Viktor could stop himself. He jumped forward, arms outstretched. Empty, tired eyes-on a face that looked much more sunken close up, met his in mild confusion.
"Yuuri?" Viktor vaguely wondered if the other man would mind him calling to him so familiarly. A second passed and the red blush that exertion caused slipped completely from Yuuri's cheeks. He was deathly white.
Another second and those long, long eyelashes were covering warm brown eyes. Yuuri Katsuki's body began a plummet to the ground, seemingly boneless, like a rag doll.
Horror overcame Viktor and he leapt to close the distance, barely grabbing the smaller man before his head hit the cement.
The crowd went silent. Reporters and other skaters were lined near the gate to receive Yuuri. Besides him, Viktor heard Yuuri's coach swear under his breath. The older man sunk to his knees near the pair. A single camera flashed.
And just like that the trance was broken and the crowd broke out in panic. Fans screamed and yelled, holding out phones to capture the unconscious skater. Reporters had little more decorum, but much better cameras.
Annoyed, Viktor pulled the man in close, and more or less into his lap. The dark head limp against his neck and his boney arms slung lifelessly over his shoulders. Viktor could feel his breath, now slow and steady, against his skin. And he could feel how the boy's ribs, through both of their outfits, still managed to feel like sharp edges digging into Viktor's chest. Weaving one arm under Yuuri's knees and the other under his shoulders, Viktor climbed to his feet. Yuuri was so light that Viktor wondered dumbly if he was hollow.
Viktor decided then and there that Yuuri needed his help. He wasn't leaving the younger man's side until he was better and he wasn't taking no for an answer. He held his light load closer in determination, not noticing how the camera flashes only grew in response.