I

A record free skate score of 221.4 and yet missed the gold to Yurio by a tiny sliver of 0.12. On paper it sounded like the perfect recipe of dissing Victor both as a competitor and coach. If it hadn't been that moment in the rink last day he would've genuinely wondered whether Victor was mad at him. After all, he had made Victor begrudgingly announce his comeback to the media. Was it not almost like admitting defeat?

But Victor looked happy.

Right then, Victor had been keenly trying to pull a cursing Yurio to the banquet dance floor for a waltz. When Yurio managed to break off his grip and run for his life, Victor stumbled towards Yuuri with a glass of champagne, beaming.

"Noooo," Yuuri flinched at the sight of alcohol, "not again."

"Yuuuuri. It's not a party until you drink."

As if the pictures from last year's banquet weren't embarrassing enough. On top of that, Phichit was here. Yuuri hoped it was a testimony of their trust and friendship that he didn't take pictures of last year's pictures and let them off on the social media. In any case, before Yuuri could decline Victor had emptied the glass by himself.

"Are you drunk already?" Yuuri laughed.

Victor drawled happily, "I'm not drunk... you're drunk."

"...Umm, Victor. I needed to talk about something."

Ever since Yuuri watched Yurio's free skate, this had been on his mind. Yurio had been so passionate, almost angry. In the same vein of what he told him before Yuuri's own performance - Yurio seemed to be iterating it again and again through a language they both understood best - do not disappoint me.

On top of it, Victor threw him some more ambiguous hints. "I don't feel like kissing the silver medal, Yuuri," he had crooned, smiling smugly, "Do you have something in your mind? Something that'd excite me?"

He hadn't said anything back then, but he did have something on his mind. It was more like hunger. He wondered if this was the right time to tell Victor - Victor was pretty much on his way to get wasted - two more drinks away before starting to strip and hug him like there was no tomorrow.

"Victor, will you stay with me for another season? I promise I will win the gold this time!"

They said alcohol always brought out people's truest natures. Victor literally jumped on him even as Yuuri backed against the liquor counter, his eyes glistening again (well, alcohol brought out Victor's comedically melodramatic nature) as he whispered into his ear, "I'll stay with you forever."

Yuuri wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. "I meant as a coach, Victor."

"Coach, not-coach, un-coach, partner, husband, all good. Marry me?"

He blushed, "Didn't you say that was after I got the gold?"

Victor seemed to going into shock with the realisation of how he dug his own grave with his words. "Ah," he sighed, now wasted if Yuuri might mention it, "this brazenly drunken boy from last year's banquet made me fall in love with him and had me pining for him for a year, now he uses my own words against me and asks me to keep pining."

Huh? Yuuri scratched the back of his head. He remembered he had caused some major embarrassment last year, but what was Victor even on about? He fell in love with him... what?

Victor was in no position to stop. He leaned against a bar stool, sighing deep breaths, so much so Yuuri had to make sure he didn't get any more access to alcohol. Then followed a sudden spasm of inexplicable sadness, and Yuuri had no choice but to take him out to the roof for some fresh air.

"I changed my free skate programme for the Four Continents ... and, and for the World Championship," Victor continued, even as Yuuri helped him by the shoulder, "Stammi Vicino... non te me andare... It was for that boy. The boy who never looked back. The playboy who played the game of love with the most beautiful woman in the room and then cast her aside the next day." With it, he hopped ahead out in the roof, "The breeeeze!"

"Victor, don't go close to the ledge!" warned Yuuri, whilst his mind was at sixes and sevens. What was even going on...? Was Victor trying to confess he had been in love all along? That he got a silly schoolgirl crush on Yuuri? Yuuri? That he choreographed routines dedicated to him before they became friends? In all seriousness, Yuuri needed a drink right then.

Victor leaned towards him, so close their noses touched. "Stay close to me," he breathed, entangling their fingers , "We'll leave together. Stay close to me, Yuuri, won't you?"

His heart throbbing against his chest, Yuuri kissed him under the moonlight, tasted the flavour of the champagne on his lips. Victor kissed back, and never wanted to let go. "Always," Yuuri mumbled, his breath barely catching up before he dug his fingers into Victor's silver hair and went for another kiss, "Always."

Victor watched from a distance, laughing, as Yakov and Lilia made offended (and secretly proud) faces at Yurio's full-fledged metal mode gala performance. Just when one'd think the punk had a softer side to him, he'd make sure he had all the edge to welcome them to the madness.

"I'm off," Yuuri pecked him on the cheek, "Wish me luck."

"I'll follow you," he winked back. Yuuri high-fived him and set off towards the rink.

While Victor was pleasantly surprised at Yuuri choosing the song, he was kind of curious about what triggered Yuuri to do Stammi Vicino again. On top of it, the smug smile from Yuuri that he received upon putting forth the question, added a level of mystery to it.

"You don't remember?" Yuuri had asked during the rehearsals.

"Remember what?" he had scratched his chin, confused. Was Yuuri talking about last night - because he kind of - just kind of had no memory of anything after the fourth drink till the morning when he woke up beside his boyfriend, half-naked.

"We promised something."

"Yuuri, are you gonna explain or...?"

Instead of answering, Yuuri played the song. It wasn't the same version that Victor used to perform. "I guess we'll have to make some changes," Yuuri had said, "Victor, will you do a duet for the gala? We'll leave together."

That was all Yuuri said that day. They managed to pull off a good pair routine given both of them were fairly inexperienced at it; first Victor created the original, then Yuuri responded to it through that viral video - this duet seemed to bookend the story. All was well.

Mid-song, Victor skated into the rink as if he were drawn to the figure in the middle of the ice like a moth to a flame. The crowd rang with an applause, the commentator thundered, "The Russian legend is on ice again!"

He wouldn't lie; returning to the ice under the spotlight felt good. And what could be better than Yuuri accompanying him. He held his hand tight as they shifted into a pose. Le tue mani, le tue gambe, le mie mani, me mie gambe...

Yuuri had suggested they bottle the routine off with a lift that symbolised his journey this season. It was rather difficult, and even invited flirty-teasing about Victor getting old (counting in the innumerable times Yuuri bopped at the middle of his head). It involved a carry lift with Victor holding a spread-eagled Yuuri over his head. Grinning, Victor had taken in the challenge. It excited him how confident his man had become.

- No, Yuuri, wait, it's too soon -

Before he could blink, Yuuri was skidding towards him for the leap of faith. It was mistimed - was Victor not going with the tempo? What was happening? In any case, he had to brace up now. If he froze, it would lead to a mighty collision.

- Yuuri, no -

He managed to pull him up somehow. It wasn't a very well executed lift - but they managed it -

"Yuuri!"

It was the sweat. Victor's fingers couldn't keep a grip upon the slippery costume as Yuuri tumbled over his shoulder and slammed headfirst into the floor. Victor fell to his knees. This couldn't have been happening. His head spun and his world toppled over its axis. Yuuri ought to get up and tell him he was okay. Maybe scold him for his mistake. Why wasn't Yuuri moving?

"Yuuri," he could hardly hear his own voice, "Yuuri, speak to me." With trembling hands, he reached out and pulled his unmoving body from the ice into his arms. Yuuri's face was so peaceful it was scary. "Speak to me, dammit!" Victor yelled in desperation, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.

It seemed as if hours had passed with Victor holding him, the only consolation being Yuuri's slowly but steadily beating heart. The medical emergency team arrived - the the crowd was still buzzing - Victor sensed people around him - somebody was tugging at his shoulder asking him to let Yuuri go - was it Yurio, no Yakov - he didn't care. He couldn't care.

The ambulance ride felt like hell. His fists clenched, his eyes itching, throat constricted, gaze unfocused. All he wanted to know was one thing and no one would tell him about it.

"How's he doing?"

Victor wanted to ask the first thing as they ran up to the doctor, but when no voice came out, it was Phichit who prodded. The doctor looked up, his expression unreadable.

"He seems to have suffered a grade C concussion. We've sent him for an MRI scan, the reports should be in shortly," he answered calmly. Upon seeing the devastated faces, he assured, "Don't worry. He'll be alright."

Victor felt his knees buckle even as he reached out for a bench for support. His insides still churned in fear. Slowly, he sank onto the bench, his chin on his knuckles, staring at lining of the hospital tiles. The ominous smell of the sanitisers made him nauseous.

He turned his head when he sensed something on his shoulder. "It's a shock blanket," clarified Yurio, softer than usual, "the doctor asked me to give it to you." Victor nodded in compliance. Suddenly he felt like a child lost in a crowd.

"Get over yourself," the fifteen-year old boy snapped at him, "Don't fall apart. Katsudon's gonna be pretty pissed if he sees you this way."

"I - I have to call his parents - I - " the first words that came from Victor since he reached here didn't happen to make a lot of sense, " I have to - "

"Don't worry," said Yurio, "I called Yuuko. Of course, they all saw it on TV." Seemingly running out of ways to console, he offered Victor his untouched coffee, "Here, have this. That Katsudon better wakes up soon or I'm gonna kick his ass."

This couldn't have been happening. He had been having the time of his life. The one person he cared about the most lay upon that hospital bed, not waking up. If it were possible, he'd have gladly exchanged places. No, that wasn't the point. He was the reason Yuuri lay on that bed. His world was crashing around his ears, and all he could do was sit back and watch it burn, all thanks to one mistake.

His mistake.

An angsty jaegerbomb for the new year! :D Please review!