"Mr. Nikiforov, do not move him! Let go, now!"
"Back off, give him room! Hey!"
"Aren't you listening, do not move him! He might've hurt his neck!"
"Excuse us, let us through! Sir, move. Move? Can somebody get him to move?"
The paramedics were quick to arrive, thanks to the staff who had heard Victor's desperate cries.
As the medical staff took Yuuri's vitals, Victor was taken by the arm. Removed from Yuuri's side. He'd struggled initially, he wanted to see Yuuri's face.
Standing some paces away, he all of a sudden couldn't make himself look in that direction. He was shaking. A deafening rush of adrenaline coursed through him, making everthing sound like he was under water. And yes, it felt as if he was drowning. Strange, that. He'd seen a lot of accidents during his career, even had some of his own. Some had been serious too but all of them, his own or others', had been easy to shake off. They'd been like dipping your feet in a very shallow pool. With Yuuri, that was not the case. It dragged him down into an abyss, so that seeing the light of the surface became impossible.
Victor went outside, still wearing his skates. It felt as if the ground was shaking, though it was his knees. He sat down, putting his head between his legs. He felt sick. He couldn't understand why Yuuri was on the floor of that bathroom.
I shouldn't have come here early. I should have gone with him. What the hell am I doing? What the hell am I doing to him?
In that very moment, Victor blamed himself. Hated himself. And he was scared. Scared to lose what had brought him back to life.
"Victor?" One of the staff members stood at the top of the stairs. She cleared her throat a little. "He's awake now, why don't you come inside?"
"I'll be there. Just a moment." He couldn't make himself to look at up her. When he heard the door close, somewhere behind him, his defences crumbled. Victor Nikiforov wept.
Victor was hesitant to come back inside. But he wanted to. He wanted to see him. Make sure that he was okay. He needed to come up for air.
Victor was stopped before he could enter the locker room. The paramedics asked him if he'd be comfortable interpreting, not that they couldn't understand English, but just to make sure that nothing was lost in translation. Victor nodded.
Yuuri was on the floor with a neck brace. They had covered him with a bright orange blanket after they had moved with with the help of a stretcher, and had apparently put surgical tape on the gash he had on his forehead. He had a some caked blood in his hairline.
As soon as Victor saw him, he wanted to leave. He couldn't stand seeing him. Not like that. At the same time, he wanted to feel him. Make it better. He felt a terrible tremble in his throat as he went up to Yuuri. He took a deep breath before he sat down on the floor.
"Yuuri?" His voice sounded stronger than he'd imagined it would.
Those dark brown eyes looked at him. Started to tear up. Not before long, they overflowed.
Victor wiped Yuuri's face softly with his hands. The tears kept on coming, but he was quick to catch them. The trembling inside Victor was building up.
"Are you in pain?"
Yuuri sobbed as he lay on the floor, trying to turn his head away but was restricted by the neckbrace. He tried to cover his face with his elbow, whimpering as he did. The display made Victor feel like crying too.
He blames me! I can't take this, what have I done? What did I do?
The paramedics started to ask Yuuri questions with the help of Victor. Yes, he knew his name. Yes, he knew what day it was. Yes, he knew where he was born. No, he couldn't recollect what had happened when he fell. Yuuri said that he felt dizzy and nauseous too. The paramedics looked at each other with concerned expressions on their faces.
Yuuri was recommended to get x-rays taken of his neck just to make sure that he was okay. Yuuri started his 'no, no, everything's okay'-routine and seemed, to Victor at least, very ambivalent. Victor decided to make it easy for him.
The x-rays seemed okay, but according to the hospital's routine, a second traumatologist would check the images the next day. Yuuri was told to keep the neckbrace on until he'd been officially cleared. They couldn't rule out a possible minor concussion, so Yuuri was told to take it easy and not skate for at least a week. Not watch any TV or use computers. Yuuri seemed indifferent.
Victor rummaged around in Yuuri's backpack as the doctor closed the door behind them. He found Yuuri's skates, shoes and his running jacket. Victor couldn't remember bringing the bag along, nor packing Yuuri's things. It felt strange to him, not being in control. Taking out the shoes, he walked up to Yuuri who was sitting on the exam table.
Yuuri had his eyes locked on the floor. As Victor hunched down, their eyes met for just a second. What's going on inside you, Yuuri? Victor, almost insensibly, trailed his hand along Yuuri's left leg after untying the laces of the sneakers, giving Yuuri's calf a small squeeze as if to tell him to put his foot in. Yuuri did so without a word. When Victor asked if he had tied the shoes too hard, Yuuri barely shook hos head.
Victor left his phone number as they prepared to leave. He was told that he would get the results of the second opinion of the x-ray results early the next day. He was happy to see that one of the nurses had been very accommodating during their visit and had arranged a taxi. Brought him some coffee. He gave her a peck on the cheek as thanks. He couldn't stand being photographed today.
Neither Yuuri nor Victor spoke in the taxi on the way home.
As they arrived in front of the high rise, Yuuri got out of the taxi before Victor.
"Yuuri! Wait," he called as he watched him disappear into the building. Victor excused himself to the driver and paid the fare, not really caring for the change.
He had a gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach. He knew that the afternoon would be hard for the both of them. He hurried to the entrance.
"Yuuri! Please, Yuuri... Wait!" Victor raised his voice when he saw Yuuri standing in front of the lift, his voice echoing as he did. Yuuri had pressed the button already.
Why can't you look at me? What did I do?
Victor tried to touch him. Tried to pull at his sweater a little, but Yuuri silently moved away. As they got inside the elevator, Victor felt desperate. He felt stupid for doing so, but as he cornered Yuuri, he pressed for the elevator to stop between floors. He got so close that he could feel Yuuri's exhales against his face. It seemed like he was agitated too.
Yuuri averted his gaze immidiately. The small gesture made Victor sick to his stomach. Tears were burning behind his eyelids. Again, he tried to touch him, but got no response. In desperation, he leaned in for a kiss and felt Yuuris hand on his cheek. Brusquely pushing him away.
Don't push me away! Don't deny me!
Victor broke down. He got overwhelmed and all the tension, all the emotions he'd been trying to keep inside for hours ripped through him. Clawed their way out. Leaving him tattered and torn on the inside.
"Yuuri, don't do this. Please, don't do this." He felt tears cascading down his face, but he refused to look away. Refused to dry them. Desperately wanting Yuuri to touch him. To do anything to him. "Don't make this a new Barcelona. Please, Yuuri."
Victor saw Yuuri frown, his eyes fixed on the floor. Why does that provoke you? He grew angry. Grabbed him by the arm.
"What is this about? Tell me, Yuuri!"
Victor's heart fell apart when Yuuri pressed for the lift to continue its way upwards.
Yuuri wasn't angry. He felt betrayed. A feeling he couldn't carry inside. He knew that if he spoke, he would break. He was afraid to shatter, knowing that the pieces would never be able to fit properly again.
As the lift dinged, he silently walked out. Leaving Victor standing in that corner. He hated himself for doing it. He started to cry as he unlocked the door to the flat. Their flat. He leaned against the door as he closed it behind him. Trying to pull it together.
Is this the way it's supposed to end? I want us, Victor, but you're set on leaving. I can't have you leave me. I'll die.
He took off his shoes, dropped his backpack and went straight for the bedroom. He tried to remember what Victor said about Makkachin at the hospital, but failed miserably. Since the dog wasn't there, he guessed that probably Yakov had picked him up. That was one less thing to worry about.
As he entered the bedroom, he got undressed. Fighting slightly to get his head out of his sweater. The neckbrace felt clumsy and made it a lot tougher. He got into bed and pulled the duvet up over his head. He curled up, making himself as small as possible. Because that's what he was in the bigger scheme of things. Insignificant.
"Don't make this a new Barcelona", huh? Why would he say that?
Yuuri couldn't fight it any longer. He cried until he fell asleep.
Victor tried to collect himself. He couldn't believe the last twenty-four hours. He retraced his steps since last night. Eating dinner. Yuuri falling asleep on top of him. Not getting into bed. Leaving for practice. Finding Yuuri on the floor. Being rejected. Being scared. Hating himself.
And now, sitting on the floor of a lift instead of going inside. Seeing Yuuri leave, it felt like the end of him.
Victor stood up, grabbing the handrail as he did for support. Shall I go home? What will happen if I do? Will he end it?
He wanted to go to him, out of concern. At the same time, every minute he wasn't home was a prolonging of his relationship. No, I need... to go outside. Just for a second. Then, I'll go in. I'll... convince him. Convince him that I'm worthy of him. And it'll all be okay. It'll all be like yesterday.
Victor pressed the button for the bottom floor. The lift dinged. Before exiting, he gave himself a look in the mirror. He felt disgusted.
He had his routine. Ever since he was young, he'd done the same thing. He went outside. Took a walk. Cleared his head. Severing all ties with the people pleaser. Leaving that sad excuse of a human somewhere else.
The people pleaser, huh?
That part of him had taken over. Grown into a monster. A monster riding on his back, whipping him raw. Victor knew this, but he was afraid to face the fact. Face the monster.
He tried to remember when it had taken over. Somewhere between his late teens, early twenties. He'd been appreciated. Cheered on. Revered. He fed off it, initially. It filled a void within him that he couldn't sate. And when he started winning, that side of him exploded.
It was all about others. Pleasing others. Giving himself to them through his body, his movements. Being so occupied at always excelling, no matter the cost. Losing himself in the process. Losing what was important. Losing Life and Love.
But he'd gotten weary. Tired. The monster was slowly running out of whips and flails. But it still wouldn't get off.
Then, he met Yuuri.
Yuuri!
He'd found a new purpose. He'd found someone who filled that void. He didn't need anything else. Nor did he want to.
Victor unlocked the door. Before opening it, he took a deep breath. What would it mean to go inside? Were they supposed talk? Should they sleep on it? Could they sleep together? Were they still together?
Victor went inside. It was silent. He spotted Yuuri's shoes and backpack. He removed his own shoes and coat.
I don't think I can do it today. I can't talk to him, not now.
He headed for the bedroom. Yuuri's clothes were scattered on the floor. He felt scared to approach the bed, but did it anyway.
Yuuri was asleep. His breathing was slow and heavy. The neckbrace looked horrid, a reminder of what had transpired earlier. Victor felt a sting inside when he noticed Yuuri holding on to his pillow. Hugging it.
I should have been here to comfort you. I'm sorry.
Victor carefully stroked Yuuri's hair. Removed a strand from his forehead. He had missed touching him today.
Thank you for falling asleep.
He sighed as he walked out of the bedroom.
