"If this is what they do every day, I am no longer surprised that they are good." Christophe was sitting by the dressing table, his legs crossed as he inspected his face in the mirror. Yuuri sat in his bed, looking at Christophe as he plucked his eyebrows. Christophe sat as if he was wearing a suit, as if he wasn't in the intimate setting of a bedroom and he wasn't just wearing a dressing gown. He was slightly intimidating to Yuuri, who would always try to hide himself and who he was. Christophe was very different from him. Not only would he never dare to sit in just a dressing gown, showing off most of his chest, but he wouldn't be able to be as confident and out-spoken as Christophe was in everyday life.
Yuuri nodded. "It was pretty hard."
"Pretty hard? I don't work out like that," Christophe said. "I wonder how much he practice through the rest of the year, because he didn't seem to bothered about it."
"He works out at his job." Yuuri looked at Christophe, who had stopped looking at the mirror and instead leaned his back against the chair, looking at Yuuri through the mirror. "His job is just working out every day."
Christophe smirked. "Knew it," he said. "It was too handy to not be a coincidence. Although Viktor does seem good with kids." Christophe didn't care that much about Viktor. The Soviet Hockey team and their military works were shady, but Viktor seemed to actually go to work every day, and even if that meant that he was exercising all day, it was a job. Christophe was a physiotherapist and spent his day at a hospital, taking care of people, but spending most of his time sitting on a stool, or standing by patient as he instructed patients with messed up limbs. If Viktor got to run around all day, that was obviously a great advantage on the amateur level they were all supposed to be on.
Yuuri nodded. "Everything feels so polished, Christophe." Yuuri moved in the bed, hugging his legs to his chest. "It feels fake."
The swiss man sighed. "I have known Viktor for longer than you, and I can tell you that it all is forged," Christophe said. "You didn't see him when I first took him to a restaurant, he was amazed that he could chose anything he wanted from the menu." Christophe glanced over at the man in the bed, who looked worried. Christophe had showed Viktor so much, and in the beginning, it had amused him (it still did) and as Viktor had started to spend more time with Yuuri, Christophe had hoped that Viktor would end up seeing the truth, the propaganda. "And now he pretends as if they always get to choose what to eat for lunch here. All fake, just for our eyes."
Yuuri nodded. "I know it is, I have talked to him about it, but he just…" Yuuri didn't know what to say. Christophe didn't know much about Japan, but Yuuri seemed nice enough and somewhere he had read that the country was getting military aide from the United States. So surely, they were better off than Korea. And Yuuri was a very nice person, a bit anxious and could do with a course in self-confidence, but Christophe liked him.
"He's very optimistic, isn't he?" Christophe said and Yuuri nodded. "He's two years older than me but sometimes I wonder if that helps."
"He can be serious too, that's what makes it so obvious I believe." Yuuri sighed a little bit. "The longer I am here, the more I understand why he speaks nicely of it." The Japanese man fell silent. "I always hoped, foolishly I know, that we would be able to be together."
Christophe had never dreamt of having a life with another man, but he hadn't dreamt of domestic life at all. Yuuri seemed like the kind of man that wanted to settle down at one point, and Viktor felt like he would like it too. But they didn't have that possibility, they would never have that possibility. "It will be fine, Yuuri, you'll find a way to be together." Christophe said and got up. "Now, don't think too much, it's not going to get better by you thinking about it."
Yuuri nodded and soon he was reading his book again as Christophe was showering. He still couldn't let it go, and laid awake for most of the night.
It was a beautiful evening. Yuuri had not been sure how Viktor had managed to make the officials agree to bring them out to the park they were in, but he figured he had something to do with how Viktor had smiled against the lady with the tight pony tail and a military uniform.
It was warm and the summer sun was still hanging in the sky, even if it was almost eight in the evening. Around them were families, groups of friends and lovers who laid on blankets, talking, playing games and just enjoying themselves. It looked like any other park, on any other summer night.
It had been a quiet evening, Christophe had suggested they should go down to the bar when Viktor had knocked on their door with two bottles of wine and a blanket under his arm. "Let's go to the park!"
Yuuri had walked close to Viktor and enjoyed the tour he was getting as there was no one with them. No translators, officials or guides, just the three of them. They didn't need to walk on any side of the road, didn't need to be chartered around in buses, but Viktor just led them to a green, beautifully lush park, and spread the blanket on an empty spot. They had started to drink and chat (Yuuri had brought cups as Viktor had forgotten about that completely) and as they sat on the top of a hill, they studied the people below them.
After an hour, Viktor had decided to invite some others, and ran back to the hotel to call home. Very soon, Otabek and Yuuri joined them. Otabek brining some kvass, a type of soft drink, and Yuuri without a sour face for once (which Viktor was sure to point out).
"Try it," Otabek said and poured some kvass into Yuuri's glass.
It wasn't hard to communicate with each other even if they didn't know each other's languages. Viktor and Yuri acted as translators for Otabek, who caught up on some words and Yuuri suspected that Otabek understood more than he could speak. They didn't talk about anything in particular, but just skating, about their home countries and for some reason Christophe started to talk about his vacation in Italy, which grew more and more lewd the longer that he was allowed to keep on. The small blonde skater, as well as Yuuri, was blushing at what Christophe told them, even though it wasn't bad, they both understood the implications of it. Viktor just laughed.
Yuri and Yuuri held a cartwheeling competition, which Viktor declared was tied. "You're too diplomatic!" Yuri yelled at him and lifted his mug filled with wine. "You try me then, come on, I challenge you!" Yuuri laughed at the determination in the smaller skater's word.
"Do it Viktor!" Yuuri cheered him on, and Otabek said something in Russian, that Yuuri assumed was similar to what he had said.
"Fine!" Viktor said and stood up, brushing his hands against his pants. Yuri showed off, doing pretty cartwheels, Viktor fell and rolled halfway down the hill, swearing as he managed to stop. "I'll get grass stains all over myself!" he yelled as he ran back up the hill. Christophe was laughing so much he almost began crying. Otabek joined in and Yuuri chuckled as he grabbed Viktor's hand, pulling him down to sit next to him.
If someone had been watching it would have seemed very friendly. But no one was watchin, and no one was expecting to see anything else than friends.
Georgi joined them together with his girlfriend as the sun had long left them in the dark, and he had brought wooden skittles to play a game of gorodki. "You throw the big sticks at the small sticks and try to knock them down," Yuri explained to Yuuri as if he was an idiot for not understanding how one played the game.
Yuuri was horrible at it, but it was a good excuse for Viktor to stand close behind him and teach him how he should throw.
This was exactly how Yuuri wanted to live, how he wanted him and Viktor to be together. He didn't feel anxious as he played around with Viktor, as Viktor chased him down the hill when accidentially had hit Viktor with one of the bats. He laughed as Otabek wrestles Yuri to the ground, and later into the night he was determined to learn how to make flower wreathes from Georgi's girlfriend, placing it on Viktor's head when he was done.
He didn't feel worried and he didn't think about the future. All that was, was him and Viktor.
Sometime in the middle of their second week together, Viktor and Yuuri was left on their own in the dining room after the dinner. Viktor had waved at Yakov, saying that he could get back on his own. They had been reading a magazine, or Viktor had been translating it for Yuuri, and that was why they had been left on their own.
They didn't move until the cleaners was beginning to move around them. "Why don't we go up to your room?" Viktor asked and Yuuri could feel himself blush. He pushed his glasses back up on his nose and nodded.
They kept more of a distance to each other now than they had the whole week. Yuuri had stood close to Viktor, almost leaning over him as he listened to instructions, and Viktor had not been shy, touching Yuuri, playing with him, but now when they were both aware that they were doing something that other people wouldn't approve of. Long gone was the memories of that evening in the park. So therefore they barely looked at each other.
Christophe looked at them when they both stumbled into the bedroom. He sighed dramatically. "You're lucky that I found someone," he said as he moved from the bed.
"Who?" Viktor asked curiously. He was much more relaxed about It while Yuuri felt his cheeks burning from the fact that Christophe knew what they were going to do. Had he ever told a third party about sex? About having sex with men? Not really. He knew that Christophe also slept with men, that he was like them, but it was still odd to think about it.
"Ivan?" Christophe said. "Ivan Ilyich?"
"Vanya?" Viktor said surprised. "I didn't know that." Yuuri moved into the room and began to flip through a book as he was trying to hide how embarrassed he felt. Christophe and Viktor talked for a bit longer, but as Viktor glanced over at Yuuri, seeing how embarrassed he was, he ended the chat. "Have fun then!" Viktor smiled at Christophe before pushing him out the door. "Thank you," he called after him before closing it.
Yuuri hugged Viktor and for the first time in months they were alone and safe from the outside world in a hotel room. "I've been thinking about you," Yuuri said as Viktor was undressing them.
"That handjob last week didn't make me miss you less," Viktor said and kissed Yuuri who chuckled.
"Don't you like it here, Yuuri?" Viktor asked as he played with Yuuri's black hair as they both laid in bed. Viktor had just gotten his breath back and Yuuri was contemplating whether he should have a shower or wait for a little bit. Maybe they wanted to do it again?
Yuuri placed a soft kiss on Viktor's shoulder, but hesitated to say anything. He didn't like it, and the fact that Viktor couldn't tell that he didn't, bothered him. "I like being with you, Viktor, but…" Yuuri fell silent. "I am not sure I enjoy being here."
"Why not?" Viktor asked and there was such a genuine surprise. The Russian still smiled as sweetly as he always did and Yuuri stroked his naked chest, thinking about what he should say.
He thought back on the conversation he had had with Christophe. "It's very polished. It feels like I'm in a play." Viktor looked at him with a quizzical face. "Like I'm on a stage and every costume, every movement around me have been carefully planned, don't you agree?" Viktor began to laugh and Yuuri playfully hit him. "I'm serious! Is it always this nice? You said you don't always…"
"Well, Yuuri, if you are having guests over, are you going to feed them your everyday food?" Viktor asked and while Yuuri thought that was reasonable, he thought that Japan wouldn't redecorate hotels and clean away anything that wasn't proper. Maybe ban some homeless people, but that would be it. Viktor hugged Yuuri and sighed. "It's okay, I know it's a bit strange, even Emil says so, and he's just Czech?"
They cuddled with each other for some time, and Viktor enjoyed it. When had he ever just laid in a bed with another man, feeling soft skin against his own, feeling the warmth of another person? Of course, he had felt it when he was having sex with someone, but sex in a bed wasn't that common, and even so, they usually wouldn't cuddle with each other afterwards. It hadn't been many times, and most of them had had been with Yuuri.
"Viktor," Yuuri said, breaking the silence. "Could you tell me more about your parents?" Yuuri had told Viktor everything there was to know about his family, about the onsen that had been in their family for centuries (and of course what an onsen was), about his older sister, how his mother and father had met, how he felt about being an only son and the expectations he had to live with. Had he not cried in Viktor's arms, saying that he felt ashamed that he didn't want to marry and give his parents grandchildren? How he didn't want to be the last man in the Katsuki family?
But Viktor had not told him much. Yuuri talked most of the two in general, as Viktor was happy to talk about superficial things like food and sex, but when it came to his personal life, he was very quiet. Even to the point that Yuuri had not known that he lived together with Yakov and the other skaters.
"What do you want to know?" Viktor asked.
"Everything," Yuuri giggled.
Viktor sat up a little bit in the bed, and Yuuri followed, still leaning against his chest. "Well, my mother always said I was born one month too early, but I weighed 4 kilos so I doubt it," Viktor laughed a bit and moved closer.
"A bastard," Yuuri giggled and kissed the man.
Viktor hummed. "My mom is lovely, she is kind and sweet, and looks so young. She had just turned 18 when she got me, she's a little Octobrist, born in the heat of the great revolution." Viktor smiled at the memories of his mother and he told Yuuri how he she looked, how she dressed and that she smelled like a special kind of soap and caramel.
"What about your dad?" Yuuri asked.
"My father died in the war." Yuuri felt Viktor's hand mindlessly stroke his back. Viktor didn't sound sad as he spoke, but only as if he was trying to remember things. "I was young, about seven, so I don't remember a lot about him."
"I'm so sorry, Viktor." It wasn't news to Yuuri, as Viktor had told him about it before. Yuuri's father had been too old to be drafted, and even if he had been, he had always been a bit chubby. But Yuuri knew that others weren't so lucky, and Viktor's father was one of those people.
Viktor shrugged. "I wish that I got to spend more time with my mother, I don't meet her often." Yuuri nodded. As he was studying and living far away from Hasetsu, he didn't have time to meet his family when there weren't longer holidays, during the summer vacations. He wasn't sure how things would be when he would graduate, what would happen if he moved to another country with Viktor. "I saw her a few years ago, it was the year before my first Worlds."
"That was in 1956?" Yuuri said with a shocked voice. Had Viktor not seen his mother for six years?
"Yeah, it was in spring '55, I was still a teenager," Viktor chuckled. "She said I had grown so much, and I was so surprised how small she was. I remembered her as towering me, and now I was taller than her by… a lot." Viktor laughed.
Yuuri looked up at him. "What do you mean? It sounds like you didn't see her at all."
"I haven't seen her a lot," Viktor said. "When I was 6, Yakov saw me at that ballet performance, he liked what he saw, and when I was 7 he took me to Leningrad. It was before my father died, but he had been away for years already, and I remember my mum tucked my shirt into my pants at the train station, telling me to behave or she'd come to Leningrad herself and beat me up," Viktor laughed at the memory and lazily kissed Yuuri. "I haven't really lived with my mom since." Viktor smiled, but Yuuri didn't think it looked very honest. "I met her a few times, but mostly it was me and Yakov. When Georgi came to live with us I was thrilled to not be alone with Lilia and Yakov," Viktor chuckled.
Yuuri listened to the story, and while he had heard versions of it before, this was the first time he heard it in full. Viktor continued to talk about picking up Georgi, bomb shelters and the war. How Lilia and Yakov had acted like his parents from the age of 7, how they had been the one who took him to school, how Georgi had been like a brother. Viktor told him about the competitions, about the doctors' appointments, at how Yakov had beaten him when he got home drunk for the first time. But Yuuri didn't fully listen to his story, but instead began to think. Viktor must have been 7 in 1942 and the thought that the Soviet Union was training a seven-year-old in gymnastic during the war felt absurd. "Viktor, did you want to skate?"
The blonde was silent, taken aback by Yuuri's sudden question, but he quickly responded with words that he had repeated to himself many times: "I love skating."
"Yeah, but was it your choice?" Yuuri knew that Viktor loved skating, one could see it when he skated. Viktor was always excited about his programs, he talked about it with passion with both Yuuri and Christophe. Yuuri didn't even entertain the thought that Viktor didn't love skating. Otabek was the type of skater that didn't look like he loved skating, he loved jumping and technique. But Viktor, he loved it.
"Not really, I wanted to do ballet and play around, I never said 'I want to do figure skating', no." Viktor said, not annoyed nor with ease, but simply stating it as a fact and he was still stroking Yuuri's hair with lazy fingers.
"You don't think that's strange? That you were just… chosen to do it?" Yuuri thought it sounded strange, it sounded like they were using him for propaganda, like they were using his successes for their own good. Yuuri knew that Japan was also proud of him doing as good as many other western countries, and he was in Russia for a reason that he couldn't understand, but it was his own choice. When he was 7, he hadn't been taken away from his mother.
Viktor was silent, and then shuffled around in the bed, hugging Yuuri closer to him. "Perhaps, I haven't thought about it."
Yuuri continued to prod into the questioning, wanting to get to know more, but also hoping that he could make Viktor understand. "Your whole life is already decided, Viktor, doesn't that bother you? Have you ever thought about doing something else?"
"Skating is all that I have, all that I like doing." Viktor said softly. Yuuri knew that Viktor wasn't the person to get angry, but he could sense that he was getting a bit annoyed. "I love skating, it's not like I am forced, and I am good at it."
The Japanese man didn't want to argue with Viktor, and they both knew each other well enough not to, but tonight he couldn't help himself. It would probably be the only night they had together in Leningrad. "You're good at it because they made you good at it. If I didn't have to go to school or work, and lived with a coach, I'd probably be better than I am now." Yuuri didn't believe that he would be better than Viktor, but someone like Christophe probably could probably be. "And," Yuuri wasn't sure if he should say it, and it took Viktor's kind touch against his neck for him to be brave enough to do it, "You do take medication." He held Viktor's hand in his. "It's odd to me that they seem to have produced you."
There was a moment of silence, but there wasn't anything hostile in the situation. "I haven't thought about it like that," Viktor sighed. He knew that Yuuri was right, and it wasn't as if he had never thought about it either, even if he claimed so. Viktor was given every opportunity to excel, more chances than anyone else. He could tell himself that it was because of communism, but his mother wasn't given these chances. The man who cleaned the ice rink wasn't. But he was.
"My biggest concern is why?" Yuuri said calmly as he continued to caress Viktor's hand. "Everyone likes you, they write about you in newspaper, saying how fantastic you are. Your government must love it."
"I guess," Viktor said, listening to Yuuri and replying mostly to let him know that he was listening.
"How were things with your mother, Viktor? I doubt they were this nice."
Viktor moved a bit, letting Yuuri hold onto both of his hands. "I don't recall much," he said at first. "They weren't good no, we were poor and hungry, but that was because people didn't embrace communism, it was the countryside and farmers have a hard time adjusting because they were oppressed for thousands of years without any revolution happening." Viktor remembered the idea that the French revolution had not reached the farmers in the small town that he had grown up in and that was why they were poor. That it was why he and his mother had lived in a small room that they rented from a family who had 5 kids on their own. He was pretty sure that all they had actually rented was the bed and a dresser. "I was almost always hungry." Viktor didn't really want to think about it, but perhaps there was some truth in what Yuuri was saying. Perhaps he was being treated better than others just because he was a good skater. When Otabek had talked about his life prior to moving to Leningrad, which he had when he was 16, he spoke about poor living conditions, about outdoor life, about having to look for food in the wilderness. Things that Viktor had romanticized as the man and the Kazakh people living close to nature.
But hadn't he spent his childhood with his mother in the laundry room she worked at? Hadn't she nearly cried with his ballet teacher had told her she didn't need to pay for his lectures as he was doing so well? And the few times he had eaten meat, hadn't it been mostly pigs feet? He had loved it, but compared to what he ate now, wasn't it strange? Wasn't it strange that even though there had been an ongoing war, Viktor had been taken to Leningrad to practice figure skating. When most people was fleeing the city, living on nothing, he had been given good food, being in a safe place and learning how to skate. He had never lacked anything. But people had died in the war, they had died from hunger. Viktor knew that, and he knew that it was the Nazis fault, the Americans fault. But why had he been able to always go to bed with a full stomach?
Wasn't it odd that Yakov would beat him? When he was younger he would get much worse than a slap if he didn't do well. If he threw up from practicing too hard, Yakov had told him that he should always throw up, because it proved he worked hard. He had missed most of his schooling, but still had great grades, he lived comfortably and Yakov and his wife cared for him, but wasn't it all… odd?
"You might have a point," Viktor said. "But, that doesn't mean it's bad."
Yuuri nodded. "I didn't say that, I just want you to know that perhaps you're being used."
Viktor nodded. "You make me feel things I have never felt before Yuuri." Viktor hugged him closer again. "I didn't think that there was more to life than skating, and casually sleeping with people, but since I met you, I have come to realise that there is so much more."
Yuuri smiled. "I feel at ease with you Viktor, I feel more confident on the ice when you're watching."
Viktor loved hearing that Yuuri liked him so much, that he could help the skater with his anxieties that he had told Viktor about previously. They didn't speak any more about the subject, but began to move around in the bed. "I could stay the night," Viktor said and Yuuri nodded. He wanted to wake up next to Viktor for once. "Come here," Viktor said and kissed him again.
