interlude one - pandemonium

yuri knew that something was wrong the moment his phone rang with the number of the moscow psychiatry institution. potya, his black and white siberian forest cat, a cherished pet and companion that his grandfather had given to him when he was 10 years old, stirred in her sleep. she flicked one of her ears irritably at the vibrations and the ringtone that erupted from the rectangular device under her stomach.

yuri lifted potya into his arms and brought the black iphone to his ear. his stomach was flipping and writhing within him. his heart was suffocating itself inside his chest and his ribs were constricting with his nerves. potya, lifting up her amber eyes to level with yuri's ocean ones, released a mewl of distress, as if questioning his owner 'are you alright?' with her gaze.

yuri tapped on the green telephone icon that displayed on the bottom right of his screen and opened his mouth. his voice came out rasping and desperate, like a man that had not drank water in days and is dying of thirst. and now, he is thirsting for the answer of the person on the other side. "h-hello?" he croaked.

"is this mr yuri plisetsky?" the cool female voice on the other end asked. yuri didn't recognise the tonality, it was different to the fake positivity of the usual receptionist who kept him updated with his grandfather's status. the voice on the other end sounded rather sorrowful, but also as if she just really wanted to end the call.

"yes, i'm yuri plisetsky." yuri choked out. his heart gave a little flip in his chest, dread seeping through every vein for the woman's next words.

"good morning, mr plisetsky, this is lilia baranovskaya, nikolai plisetsky's psychiatrist." the woman, lilia, said on the other end. yuri raised an eyebrow, even though his heart was constricting again. his ageing grandfather, nikolai plisetsky, was admitted into the moscow psychiatry institution a few months ago, diagnosed of schizophrenia. yuri had never suspected anything wrong with the older man, he always thought that his grandfather was the same as before, always loving and tender towards him and treated everyone with respect. yuri had thought he was sane.

but during the monthly check-ups that his grandfather had with their family doctor, dr igor vasiliech, around four months ago, nikolai was suspected of schizophrenia and submitted into the psychiatry department for a check-up. two weeks later, and he was diagnosed with severe schizophrenia and needed to be removed from his residence with yuri and moved into an anonymous treatment cell. visiting hours were only open once a fortnight as well, at the most inconvenient hours when yuri was at ballet and his figure skating lessons with his rink mates, georgi and mila. so as a result, he was only allowed to visit his grandfather only once in a while, as not to miss that much of training. yuri was thrown into the care of a foster family as well because of this, and he hated his new caretakers and their stupid, slobbering, annoying little toddlers. he hated everyone deep down to his core. damn his coach. damn georgi and mila. damn everyone.

"yes?" yuri answered, his voice hushed and stroking potya absentmindedly with the back of his hand. he was dreading the worst, yet hoping for the best. he wanted to hear that goddamn hag on the other end say that his grandfather was fit enough to go home, and completely sane again. he missed his grandfather. he missed him so, so much. he missed his warm hugs, the loving rufflings of his blond hair, his kind smile and his pirozhki that he would make for yuri after his grueling practices. he braced himself for pain as he waited for the woman - lilia baranovskaya -'s next words.

"i am very sorry to inform you this, mr plisetsky, but your grandfather will be transferred from our hosopital to the hasetsu psychiatric institution, in kyushu, japan. i am afraid that you might not be able to see him again until he has been cured. your last visit is available today at 7pm."

yuri wanted to die at that moment. he felt as if all of his happiness shrivelled up inside him, replaced with an angry inferno. he was furious. furious at all the stupid psychiatrists that just couldn't cure his grandfather. it was their fault. their fault that everything happened like this. he didn't want this. four months ago, he was a happy teenager that lived with a loving grandfather and was a respected prodigy in the world of ballet and junior figure skating. he couldn't care less about his academics, but that was alright. he had friends, mila and georgi, even though they were extremely annoying, and had a rather sardonic attitude, but still, he was happy. he had actually genuinely loved his life. he didn't know what else he would want.

but a split second later, he was stranded, without anyone to lean on for support as his grandfather, his idol and closest confidante, the person that raised him when his parents died, was suddenly a psychopath that was deemed too unstable to stay around. and now, when everyone hears the name of yuri plisetsky, they would look down on him because of his grandfather's currently state of sanity. what a load of bullshit.

without answering the hag on the other side, he ended the call and screamed, with tears streaming down his ocean eyes and threw the phone with all his might at the opposite wall. to his momentary satisfaction, he heard a crack and saw the long jagged cracks across the screen, but it didn't feel as good anymore. drops of moisture landed on potya's black and white fur.

the angry inferno leaped out of his mouth and ravaged the room around him. it threw his furniture around, tore out strands of shoulder-length blonde hair from his head. it clawed at the floor and ripped all his ballet and figure skating medals and certificates, leaving them in a messy pile at the foot of his bed. his foster parents came running, along with their annoying toddlers, always slobbering and tripping everywhere. he didn't care that the children were present. he just screamed. screamed his heart out and ripped the obscenities from his vocal chords.

soon, he slammed the door, locking it with a click and jumped onto the bed, crying to himself. his tears blurred his vision. he couldn't see anymore. potya had probably leaped through the open window onto the ground a few meters below when she saw that yuri had started breaking down. but the truth is, yuri needed her now more than anything. so he ripped his grandfather's checkered shirt from a drawer by his bed, the very same one that he was wearing the day of the diagnosis and clutched it over his heart, burying his face into it and inhaling his grandfather's familiar scent of mint and tobacco. he ignored the calls and shouts from outside his bedroom door. he didn't want to deal with those assholes right now. so he cried and cried until he finally fell asleep with exhaustion and tears staining his cheeks, clutching his grandfather's shirt close to his heart. the last thing he has to the most important person to him in the world.

when he woke up, late at night, with his ocean eyes set in rock-hard determination, he grabbed his large black bag and stuffed his things within it. with his passport, his cracked up phone, a few hundred dollars that he stole from his foster parents a few days ago, and sleeping potya under his arm, he eased open the large window and dropped onto the ground below, wincing when he hit the grass hard. potya mewled in complaint. he ran out onto the street, his sneakers squeaking against the wet tarmac and hailed a taxi.

"to the sheremetyevo airport, please." he said, his face determined. he cuddled potya closer as the taxi drove off.

he didn't care about the consequences. he didn't care about his foster parents' reactions when they find that he is gone in the morning. he didn't care that he was an unaccompanied minor travelling across eurasia on his own. he was going to japan to see his grandfather.