Another week after his semi-successful salchow, Yuri was still stuck in a rut. His success rate had increased, with the revelation from Minako, to about three-in-ten. Mercifully the failures were usually step-outs, over-rotations and grazing the ice rather than skidding around on his ass like before. He was happy to be landing on his feet at all, and for a while it even seemed his body may be catching up.
At least, that's what he thought until he woke up one morning with a fresh batch of aches in every joint. He greeted that particular morning with a vehement string of Russian profanity.
Yuuri flailed himself awake in a blind panic, then, after identifying the source of the commotion, turned to Yuri and tried to hold and soothe him in an oddly maternal fashion. "Yuri - kitten - what's wrong?"
"It hurts again," he moaned into his palms, still muttering curses under his shaking breath. Viktor, still looking scandalized at the unspeakable things emitting from Yuri, moved to shut off the alarm.
"What hurts?" Yuuri asked, confused, still clinging tightly to the shaking boy.
"Growing pains, again, everywhere."
Yuuri started to calmly rub his back. "Maybe it's a good thing. Maybe you're just catching up to your last one. I doubt you're having another major spurt so soon."
"When is this shit ever good," Yuri growled as he wrenched himself free and searched for his practice clothes.
A deeply concerned Viktor laid a hand on Yuri's shoulder for a moment before he escaped that one as well. "You should probably - "
"I am not skipping another day of practice for this shit," he said, uncharacteristically calm. He was beyond rage at this point, filled only with a quiet determination to best the ever-loving shit out of nature and a deadly, seething hatred of it.
He heard Yuuri finally leaving bed as well, offering a gentle "Yuri..."
"No," Yuri nearly yelped. If Yuuri asked, if he really needed it, Yuri would be powerless to stop him. He'd hate himself for it, he'd hate Yuuri for it, and that would make him hate himself all the more and he couldn't bear any of that in his current emotional state. In a voice that he desperately hoped sounded less pathetic than he felt, he added "Please."
Yuuri silently walked over to wrap his arms around Yuri's waist, leaning in the kiss the juncture between his neck and shoulder. "Can I at least attempt to massage the pain out a bit before we go? I don't want it distracting you during practice."
Yuri's resolve and hatred melted a tiny, tiny bit. It seemed like a reasonable compromise. "Fine," he mumbled as he all but threw himself back into bed.
"We're going to have to tell Yakov and Lilia again," Viktor said, attempting to downplay his concern as much as possible. Yuri knew him entirely to well for that, though.
"They'll just worry about nothing..."
"They've been doing this longer than you've been alive, little tiger. That, and they hold both your career and your well-being to the highest priority."
"Tell the worrywart geezers, then," Yuri growled, knowing it was inevitable but desperately not wanting to acknowledge what could be happening again. Viktor, knowing Yuri just as well, took his meaning with a small, sad smile as he typed out a message. Sometime after practice Yuri knew he would be getting an earful.
Soon enough, Yuuri's hands were at his back, and everything felt a little better. Still hurt like a bitch, but in the good way that only a properly done massage can manage. He melted into the touch. "Can I at least convince you to lay off the quads until we hear from Yakov?" Yuuri asked as sweetly as he could (which was very, very goddamn sweet).
Witchcraft. Horrible, evil witchcraft. That's what Yuuri did to make these ideas of his seem so reasonable. It was the only explanation. "Fine. Less bitching, more massaging."
He let out a contented sigh as he felt Yuuri's hands running along his back and down his bare sides, his skin positively tingling at the sensation of blood being forced out and allowed back into his muscles at the ebb and flow of Yuuri's fingertips. "I know you'll probably hate hearing this, but...at least you're growing very beautifully."
"What's that supposed to mean," Yuri moaned into his arms. Growth was the last thing he wanted to discuss.
"You're staying in proportion, mostly. Maybe a little broader in the shoulders and hips, but not much...still a very trim waist and the tiniest bit more muscle mass, but ultimately about the same build as before," Viktor answered, carefully analyzing Yuri from the sofa. "You're lucky, actually. It means you really only have to look out for what we discussed with Minako instead of having to also deal with massive changes to your proportions or muscle and bone mass. And yes, it is also very becoming."
Yuri mumbled something unintelligible into his arms about Viktor's hairline. Mercifully only Yuuri heard it. "Very becoming," he whispered as his hands ran along Yuri's side and down to his hips.
"Under different circumstances, I'd be ridiculously turned on right now," Yuri sighed.
"Me too," said both Yuuri and Viktor. They laughed, and even Yuri wrestled with a smile.
After a successful if non-erotic massage, the pain subsided somewhat. Enough for Yuri to have a serviceable practice, focusing on footwork and less complex jumps. For once in his life he was excited for Yakov's call because it meant he could get back to business, but of course the old man wouldn't be awake until after practice was over. Even so, the pain and the continuing physical difficulties were even affecting his triple jumps now. No wipeouts, but a lot of technical errors and deeply frustrating inconsistency.
Yakov called shortly after the three of them finished eating lunch, meaning he likely called Yuri the instant everyone in St Petersburg was settled into morning practice. "Yuri, Viktor tells me you're having growing pains again," the old man said with mingled irritation and concern (so basically his default tone).
"It's not a big deal," Yuri said, rolling his eyes. "Katsudon talked me into taking it easy this morning and it was fine."
Yakov shook his head. "Viktor said your triple jumps were looking weak this morning."
Yuri shot a venomous glare across the room at Viktor, who had his most innocent and lovable face on. "Viktor has a fat mouth."
"Viktor is doing exactly as he was told for once in his insubordinate life," Yakov shouted, making sure Viktor could hear. "Lilia and I will be watching your afternoon practice. We need to see what's happening."
"Just watch the videos from last week - "
"We have, and we told Vitya to keep a close eye on things for that reason. You don't seem to realize how important it is to take care of yourself right now, and you need to - "
"What I need is for everyone to stop telling me what the fuck I need!" Yuri shouted. He'd have hung up the phone if Viktor hadn't moved it out of reach at that exact moment.
"That's what coaches are for, Yuri," Yakov snapped. "We will speak after practice, and that's the last we are discussing this."
Viktor smiled and waved at the phone as he continued to hold it out of Yuri's reach. "See you soon, Yakov! Say hi to everyone for us!"
Yuri sat down as the call ended, fuming. "What the fuck, Viktor?"
"I'm worried about you, Yurio. Everyone keeps telling you to take it easy, and you keep pushing yourself," Viktor said with surprising sincerity.
"No shit. That's what I do, and it works every time," Yuri growled, wanting to swat that damn goofy smile off his face.
Viktor almost frowned. "This is different, though. This is a very delicate time for your body, and one that will require a lot of adjustment on your skills. The answer to that is more practice, not a grueling series of competitions."
"Bullshit. You just want me out of the way so you know you have a clear shot at the podium, don't you? That's why you're blowing this out of proportion," Yuri hissed. Distantly, he was aware he had crossed a dangerous line. Viktor's smile was frozen ice solid, but he didn't otherwise betray his feelings. Yuuri looked petrified, eyes flitting between them in a panic. That was what Yuri felt truly bad about, but he stood his ground. Every year older you get, you're more and more afraid of competing with me, and now you're just clearing the path for one more shot at glory,"
"You shouldn't say such silly things like that to people who are trying to help you. That seems like an excellent path to ending up alone and afraid," Viktor said brightly, standing to clear away their dishes and maintaining his most intimidating smile. "But you should be used to that, shouldn't you, Yurachka?"
Yuri gaped at his disappearing back. Fuming, practically leaking steam, he prepared a withering retort that died in his throat the instant he saw Yuuri trembling where he knelt on the floor, a look of utter terror on his face. A look that, to Yuri, screamed, please, please don't make me choose sides. "Katsudon...I'm..." sorry? He wasn't. At least not about what he said to Viktor, just what it did to Yuuri. Even so, he still couldn't say it. Instead, Yuri turned on his heel and stormed out the opposite door and headed straight to Ice Castle Hasetsu.
There were a few random townspeople skating around as Yuri remembered it was public skate for a few more hours. Rather than risk having to talk to all these people who would probably recognize him, if not on his own merits then as Yuuri's boyfriend, he knocked on the door to the office in the hopes that Yuko was working.
Mercifully, she poked her head out and smiled. At least someone was happy to see him right now. "Yurio! Are you all alone today? Did you want to skate?"
He shook his head. "Plenty of time for that later. Can I come in?"
Her smile brightened as she opened to door. "Sure! Where are Yuuri and Viktor, anyway?"
"Probably back at the inn still," he muttered as he shoved past her to slump in a chair.
"Is everything okay?" Yuko's voice was positively oozing motherly concern. Yuri instinctively wanted to sulk, but in truth that was exactly what he came for.
"Growing pains," he said simply. "My jumps are really inconsistent all of a sudden, and...well, Viktor was being an ass."
"How so?" Yuko asked, cocking her head to one side in curiousity.
"Telling me I should take the season off to get more practice for Nationals and Worlds. He won't shut up about it, just like Yakov."
"It sounds like they're worried about you."
"Yakov worries too much. Viktor just wants me out of the way so he only has to beat one of us for the GPF."
Yuko gasped. "He wouldn't do something like that!"
"I've known him a pretty long time, and even before I really met him Yakov was always talking about him. Trust me, that's exactly the kind of selfish and manipulative shit he would do," Yuri growled.
"True, you would know him better but..."
Yuri squirmed under her gaze. Something unpleasant was about to happen, he could tell. "But what? Is that not an end of discussion sort of admittance?"
"Maybe he would do that to someone else, but," she said, forcing Yuri to look at her. "Imagine what it would do to Yuuri if that were true. If Viktor did something like that to you. I just can't imagine him taking that chance with Yuuri's feelings."
"We're talking about Viktor 'lol let's tell Yuuri I'll quit if he misses the podium' Nikiforov here. This kind of pathetic mindfuckery is right up his alley, even if it does make his precious Yuuri cry."
She smiled. "Yuuri told me about that one. I doubt it's a mistake he's ever going to repeat."
"Viktor doesn't really learn from mistakes. He'd have to admit he made them first."
Yuko laid a hand on his arm. "Yuri, I really don't think he would do that to you, or to Yuuri. I don't expect you to believe me if I say he cares about you, but I know you don't believe he'd hurt Yuuri like that."
That was what she said. What Yuri heard was "After all, you were the one who left him shaking on the floor to come and sulk."
It was silent in the small room for a long time as he fought the lump in his throat and the memory of Yuuri kneeling on the floor between them, utterly petrified. He might still be like that. Half of his brain screamed at him to go back. The other half refused to even look at Viktor, petrified at the idea of having to apologize first. Yuko's hand never left his arm.
"You know, when Yuuri had something to work through, he used to come here and skate figures," she finally said, hoping it would distract him long enough to speak.
"Figures?" He choked out. "That shit was phased out before Yakov even started competing."
She nodded, a wistful smile on her face. "It was almost a kind of mantra for him. Even then he could only express himself on the ice."
"I'd give it a try, but I'm not sure where I could find an ancient scroll to dust off that had diagrams on it."
Yuko laughed. "It's probably very boring for anyone other than him."
"Definitely," Yuri said from behind the ghost of a smile. "Explains his crazy footwork though."
They sat there and watched kids skate around and fall on their asses. Yuri kind of envied them. He had precious few memories of a time where skating was something he did for fun, let alone to relax. For most of his young life it was a constant battle to keep his loved ones fed and clothed, supported by his relentless and often brutal competitive nature. Not counting when he was extremely young, the only times he ever remembered being happy skating were when he was skating with Yuuri.
He wanted to go back so badly. Still, he knew they would be here sooner rather than later, and he wanted to draw as much strength from Yuko as possible.
By the time the sun began to set and public skate ended, Yuri was resigned to his fate. He had to make things right with Viktor. He had to make it up to Yuuri. And he absolutely had to do listen to Yakov this time: he was not in any shape to compete, and he would absolutely be risking his career and maybe his life trying to fight through it. Two of those hurt like knives in his gut, but he choked them down all the same. He told himself he was doing it for Yuuri, but he knew he had to do it for himself.
Yuko forced him into a supportive hug which he awkwardly returned. The walk to the changing rooms seemed impossibly long, like the hall was stretching out before him for miles, like the door was looming above him, towering into the sky like an impossible obstacle preventing him from making things right. He could hear quiet, tense conversation behind the door, but couldn't make out any words. Gathering his courage, he barreled through the door, nearly tripping over the bench and into the wall.
"Thank god," he heard a sigh of relief, felt Yuuri's arms around him. "I'm sorry."
Yuri turned into the hug, burying his face into Yuuri's neck. "What are you sorry for, katsudon? I'm the one that fucked up."
"No, I...I should have stepped in. I should have seen that it was going to escalate, and..."
Yuri released him and reached out to stroke his face. "Stop. I'm the one who's sorry. I should never have put you in that position. It's completely my fault. I never, ever, ever, ever want to make you feel like that again."
Yuuri's hand raised to meet his own. "Never thought I'd hear you say anything like that, Yurio," he teased, voice still weak but regaining strength with every syllable.
"Well, you're rubbing off me in more ways than one," Yuri admitted. "Where's Viktor?"
"He's just talking to Yakov outside," Yuuri said, suddenly nervous.
"What about?" Yuri asked, making a sincere effort to ask the question calmly.
"He's...trying to convince Yakov to let you compete, actually," Yuri said through a weak smile.
Yuri couldn't help but return it. "What an idiot," he mumbled. "He should make up his damn mind, then."
"He felt really awful about what he said. Bad enough that he decided that you should do what you wanted even if it was stupid," Yuuri said quietly. "He really does care, Yuri."
"Ugh, I know," Yuri mumbled. "I...well, I'll be right back," he said as he leaned in to give Yuuri a very well-deserved kiss before he headed out.
Viktor was standing just outside, red-faced and bickering with Yakov. It was something Yuri had seen many times, but seldom with such furor. The daggers in his stomach twisted. That Viktor was willing to stand up for him like this made everything so much worse, but made what he had to do so much easier. He threw open the door and stormed towards Viktor, snatching the phone away before the man knew what was happening. "Quit your bleating, you old fuck, I'm taking the series off already!"
"What?!" Yakov and Viktor both shouted.
Yuri just rolled his eyes. "You heard me! But I'm going to practice my ass off for Nationals. I swear to god, I'm not missing that one even if it does kill me."
Yakov just rubbed his temple. "You kids are going to kill me. Everyone tells you to take a break, you explode on all of us, then Vitya spends half an hour fussing at me and now you're just going to step down without a fight...if Katsuki is behind this one, too, I'm writing him into my will. Which will pay out very soon if you two have anything to say on the matter."
"Nope, no katsudon," Yuri said with newfound confidence. "This was for me."
Yakov just sighed, but he looked more relieved that Yuri had ever seen. "What does it say about my coaching that I'm actually concerned when my students agree with me?"
"Oh, quit your whining. Talk to you soon," Yuri said as he ended the call and looked up at Viktor, who was making that ridiculous puppy face he made when he was overwhelmed with emotion. "Ugh, don't make that stupid face at me."
Viktor swooped in on him with the biggest, bone crushingest hug of his entire goddamn life. He felt his feet leave the floor. "Yurio, I'm so sorry about what I said! Can you ever forgive me?!"
"Jesus, yes, just put me the fuck down!" Yuri choked out. Viktor obliged but did not release him. "I'm sorry too. In fact, I'm even more sorry than you are."
Viktor just laughed. "So you even have to apologize better than me?"
For once in his life, Yuri returned the hug. "Yeah. I'm apologizing the fuck out of you as a warm up for when I cream you at nationals."
"Looking forward to it," Viktor whispered.
"How was katsudon after I left?" Yuri asked, anxious.
"He didn't speak for a while, but he didn't cry either. I just stayed with him a while and then we went to the studio."
"So you didn't apologize?"
"He wouldn't let me. I was too busy stopping him from apologizing."
"Ha! I totally apologized to him," Yuri gloated. "I win."
Viktor released him from the hug with a hearty laugh. "I'll just let you have this one, then. These are the first two apologies of your life, after all."
"Whatever! I just wanted to keep getting bottoming tips from you."
"Oh, I think you know everything I know and was able to learn from Christophe," Viktor said with a wink. "Do you think you're ready?"
Yuri bit his lower lip. He remembered the way he felt mounting Yuuri, teasing him, how he had the greatest thrill of his life just from holding Yuuri while he and Viktor went at it. The way Yuuri looked at him when they kissed, the way he felt when they were clinging to each other naked in the onsen. But most of all, he remembered Yuuri's beauty illuminated in the light of a sparkler on a Hasetsu beach, the only time he ever saw Yuuri truly carefree, and he knew. "Hell yes."
Viktor offered the most beautiful and genuine smile Yuri had ever seen on him. "Good, because I arranged to go drinking with the girls tonight. I thought you might want to perform with a little less pressure for your first time."
"Sure, whatever," Yuri said, hiding behind his walls as quickly as he could, even knowing that Viktor could see through them. Now he was going to have to do something even more thoughtful. He refused to be one-upped. "Oh, and by the way. That eros competition you wanted? Totally on. And I'll kick your ass there too."
