With a firm limit, with an end date in mind, Yuuri found it easier to live his life. This would be the last time that they spent this much time apart.
Yuuri did what he always did, he appeared in some interviews, he studied, and while he was still together with Yumiko, he tried to cool things of between them without being outright mean to her. She got the hint after a few months and left Yuuri over the summer. Gradually seeing him less and less. It was better that way, and Yuuri allowed himself to happily think about life together with Viktor, to imagine him in his bed as he woke up in the morning. He began to imagine a life with him, and he was so happy.
He continued to skate, redacting all his plans to stop. He had not told anyone, not even his parents, but his coach had known of course. When he had told him that he was indeed not retiring, Sasuki had looked at him. "But I thought you were sure about?" he had said but when Yuuri stated that he had changed his mind, the coach had no issues with letting the best skater in Japan train under him for one more season.
His body was not what it had been and while he was looking for jobs, he didn't take it that seriously, but instead devoted himself to skating for one last year. He and Viktor could maybe open a little skating school, but neither of them would skate professionally again. Yuuri imagined them going to the Worlds in 1964, to cheer on Chris or Minami together. It wouldn't look strange and Yuuri wanted to go back to Colorado Springs were it all began.
Yuuri was doing well at the nationals, still being the best skater in Japan, even if he was getting old. Yuuri skated for Viktor. He knew that if he didn't skate well, he wouldn't get to go to the worlds and if he didn't do that, he and Viktor would never meet.
Kenjirou Minami was the second-best skater that year, which was impressive for it being his first time in the seniors. He was a cute boy, still a teenager, who would do great once Yuuri actually retired. "I have been looking up to you for years," the boy confessed. "Since your first worlds, in Colorado, I've been following you and dreaming about being as heroic as you!"
Yuuri blushed at the boy's words as they were waiting for their time to get their medals. "Next year, you'll be the one going to the Worlds, and the Olympics." Yuuri told him with a smile. He was uncomfortable in the role as a teacher, but he tried to sound encouraging to the younger boy.
"You're retiring?!" The boy nearly shrieked, disrupting the light music and ambience from the women's medal ceremony. "You can't do that! You're still so good."
Yuuri could feel himself blush even more at the boy's words. "I was going to this year but decided to stay for one more year."
"I'm so happy you didn't, this is my senior debut and I have been looking up at you for ages."
Yuuri was flattered and told Kenjirou that he would do much better than him next year. In fact, he thought that it was unfair that he wasn't going to the worlds this year, to get some practice and not letting the Olympics be the first international event that Kenjirou competed in.
But just like he had made sure to be the best skater in Japan to be allowed to go to the Worlds, he had to go there. He had to see Viktor, he had to help him.
Because Yuuri didn't think that Viktor would dare to go on his own.
Afterwards Yuuri would think about what would have happened if Christophe had not been arrested during the summer, having been caught "seeking to perform indecent acts" in Italy. There was quite a scandal at the time, and while homosexual activity wasn't illegal in Christophe's home country, it was in Italy, which meant that the Swiss government had to fight to get Christophe back. There wasn't a day that the newspapers didn't write about, that they didn't gossip about it, and when Christophe finally came back to Switzerland his character was defamed.
He wasn't described as the handsome bachelor he had been before, and even if the magazines didn't write anything derogatory, they almost didn't touch on what had happened in Italy, they speculated and went as close as they could.
It didn't get better when Christophe in a radio interview said that he was homosexual. They had apparently been talking about the diplomatic crisis, what had happened and the host had given Christophe the chance to redeem himself to the Swiss people. "Well, the Italian police isn't exactly known for their competence, are they?" the host had laughed. "Must have been infuriating to have to spend time in jail because of a mistake like that? To be accused of homosexuality?"
"Well, I am homosexual, and I was in that bathroom to find someone, so let's not be too harsh to the Italians." Yuuri had heard what he had said, and even if he didn't speak French, he could admire how casually Christophe had delivered that line.
The host had gone quiet for a moment and then he had laughed, and gone to his next question to Christophe. It did change some people's view of him to the nicer, as if they should feel sorry for him, as he was considered to be ill, while most people began to bark even harder for his punishment. Christophe's skating career was over, the Swiss people didn't want a homophile to represent them at international competitions.
Christophe didn't seem to grief over it though. In his letters to Yuuri, which Yuuri retold to Viktor with great care, the man wrote about his honest feelings. He was sad that he would never get to compete again, that his days on the ice were numbered, and that no matter what he did again, he would be judged over it because of his sexuality. I had to stop working at the clinic too but I moved to Zürich though and it's beautiful here! Christophe had written so carefree as he was telling Yuuri about his plans, his life from now on. He wanted to move to the US after a few years, and maybe start coaching someone. Of course, it would take a few years, Christophe wrote, because he had to let the gossip had to die down. Overall I feel freer, less anxious and feel like I have opened new paths for me.
Perhaps Yuuri should have let Christophe's positive attitude affect him. But Yuuri had just worried. He had been reading the letters, the newspapers and magazines with great care as anxiety swept over him. When he laid in bed, thinking of Viktor, he imagined that the police would storm into the room and arrest them, that they would have their faces plastered over the news. That they would be called debauched, immoral, a disgrace for Japan and the Soviet Union. Yuuri almost burnt the photographs, but he couldn't.
No one questioned Yuuri's and Christophe's relationship, that they had been to Leningrad together, nor that he had been seen with Viktor on several occasions. Yuuri felt selfish when he thought about that, as Christophe's life was ruined. At least he didn't distance himself from the man, but replied to his letters, just as he had been doing up until then.
It was safe to say that that summer was not spent like the last one. Yuuri had turned down the invitation to the summer camp, explaining to Viktor that he didn't want to fuel any more rumours or gossip, and while Viktor understood, he thought that Yuuri was being overly cautious. Viktor didn't see Christophe's confession, his coming out as something bad, and he hoped that once he and Yuuri got settled somewhere, they would be able to do the same. Maybe not as openly, but at least to their circle of friends and family.
And the autumn passed quickly. Viktor and Yuuri began to write about things like what kind of breakfast they ate, sharing recipes for food, arguing about landscaping. It was very domestic but not enough for the person that read their letters to truly caught on. Yuuri wrote more cautiously than Viktor, almost every letter talking about how he was looking forward to getting married and starting a family, as if they were planning two separate lives and not one together.
The winter came and went, and spring was beginning to sneak into Japan as March approached. 1963 would be the best year of Yuuri's life. He would finally be living with Viktor. He had been planning everything carefully, making sure that he had money saved up, that he had some sort of plan of their life together.
Viktor on the other hand had not thought much about it. It wasn't until Yuuri started to talk about gardening and breakfasts in his letter that he was reminded that he had promised to do something that he actually didn't know if he wanted. And the date was coming closer and closer.
Viktor went on many walks that winter. He walked around in Leningrad in the cold and thought. And the more he thought, the more scared he got. He realised that he would never get to set his foot in the city again. That he would never get to skate again. That he would never get to see his friends again. It scared him.
Before, Viktor had not thought a lot about what it would mean for him to leave the Soviet Union. He had not considered what would happen to him. He had not had to sacrifice anything in his dreams about spending time with Yuuri. He had never had to give anything up, and he realised that in Cortina d'Ampezzo he had told Yuuri that he would defect because he was more scared about losing Yuuri than he was leaving the Soviet Union. But he wasn't sure that it was true.
He would never get to see his mother again. He went to visit her for his 27th birthday, and she looked so frail. She had a nice apartment, and it was warm. She had food and looked much better off than the last time he had seen her, not even 50 yet but looked much older. His mother was tiny, frail and he knew looked like the men on the posters. All he was to his mother was a man on a. She held his hands and told him that it was all because of him, that because of him she had been given this apartment, that she got food and that people respected her. The countryside, Viktor had thought amused as he was with her, but on the train back home he thought that people in Leningrad was also getting favours from everyone.
That wasn't communism. That wasn't equal.
What would happen to her if he left? Her hands that had held his was small and weak, shaking with arthritis and she complained how much in pain she was. She had spent her life on her knees, her hands in cold water, and now she worked with accounting. What if they made her go back to washing people's clothes?
The more Viktor thought, the more scared he became. He loved Yuuri, but was he prepared to leave everything behind?
He wasn't sure.
But the world championships came whether he was ready or not. Dortmund wasn't far away from West Germany's capital. Nor France.
Viktor's hands was shaking on the plane. "Do you need a pill?" Yakov asked him, but Viktor shook his head.
"Just nervous."
Yakov raised his eyebrows. "You're never nervous," he said.
The day had come. They had decided that it was better to do it as early as possible as they had met the first day. Yuuri had told him all about his plans, that they would take a taxi to the train station, take the night train to Bonn and then to the American embassy ("Do you want to go to America? I guess Germany would also take you", Yuuri had said).
The night before the competitions began, Yuuri went over to Viktor's room.
Yuuri snuck into Viktor's room as so many times before. But this time there was something different in the air, it felt exciting for a different reason. Yuuri was ready for their life together to begin. "I wish we could fuck first," Viktor joked with Yuuri as he was sitting on the bed, Yuuri going through the plans. They were both so nervous, and Yuuri's giggle showed that.
"So, are you ready?" the Japanese man asked him. The clock would soon strike midnight, the church bells would sound all over Dortmund. Perhaps like an alarm bell.
Viktor looked up at his Yuuri with his blue eyes, he really loved Yuuri. "Always ready," he said, making Yuuri smile. It was reassuring that Viktor took everything so calmly when Yuuri felt like a nervous wreck himself.
Yuuri nodded. "Are you bringing anything?" he asked, but knew that Viktor couldn't exactly bring a suitcase. It would look too suspicious. Not that leaving the hotel wasn't suspicious, but Viktor could just pretend that he had wanted to go for a walk. But no one went for a walk with a suitcase packed with clothes and all the worldly possession they had. Yuuri wasn't sure what the officials that came with Viktor would do if they caught him. Would they drag him away and never allow him to leave their sight again? Did they only have one chance.
"I'm wearing a lot of clothes." Viktor laughed and nervously pulled a hand though his hair. "And I have some pictures." He had not been sure what to pack as he stood in his room in Leningrad. He had lived in that room since he was 8, and fitting twenty years of his life in a suitcase wasn't possible.
He didn't have that much either way. Even if he had spent twenty years in that room, he didn't have many things of value. His medals and ribbons were kept in museums, behind panes of glass. He didn't own much, and the money he won he had always proudly given back to the state. So all he had was pictures. There were the pictures of him and Yuuri, of him with his friend, his parents from when they were young. He didn't care for worldly possessions, and there was nothing that he had that he could not replace. The only thing was his skates. He wanted to bring them, but knew that it would look suspicious if he was caught.
He'd have to leave them behind.
Yuuri leaned down and gave the taller man a kiss. "I'm ready to start a life with you," he said.
"I can't wait until I get to wake up next to you," Viktor said and stroked Yuuri's black hair. "I've always wanted to fall asleep next to you and know that when I wake up again, you'll be there. I want to be close to you for more than a few hours." Viktor spoke with a voice braver than he felt. He was nervous, scared of the change that was about to come. He had thought that it would be easier than this. Viktor had always liked change, he had liked surprises and challenges, but now, when he was going to leave his whole life behind, he wasn't so brave any longer.
He would never be able to compete again. Would he even be able to skate? What if no country wanted him? Or what if he would fail, if he would be caught? What would happen to Yuuri if that happened? Viktor swallowed. He thought about Christophe, how he had done a single mistake and now his life was completely different. He couldn't skate. He couldn't work. Yuuri said that Christophe was happy, but even Yuuri had not seemed to believe that.
Viktor was about to do a much bigger mistake.
Yuuri could feel how tears burned behind his eyelids. He had waited for this moment for four years. And it was finally here. He knew things wouldn't go quickly, that they wouldn't find themselves living together next Friday. But he could wait for a few months if it meant that him and Viktor got to spend a lifetime together. And it would be different to wait for him this time.
It was the difference of waiting for an engagement and waiting for the wedding to take place. They could enjoy their time together, write letters, and when the time was ready, Yuuri would move in with Viktor. It wouldn't even look suspicious. Yuuri was a translator, why wouldn't he want to live in the US? "Let's go then."
Viktor nodded and kissed Yuuri one more time, before leaving the hotel room. They turned off the lights, and Viktor jokingly asked if he should bring his toothbrush.
It was the first time they left the hotel room together in the middle of the night. Usually it was only one person that had to sneak out, but now they walked down the deserted and empty corridors all by themselves. Viktor was scared of making any noises, and even more terrified of someone catching them. They took the stairs, rather than using the noisy elevator down to the lobby. Yuuri stroked Viktor's shoulder as they got out of the hotel and started to walk.
"Are you cold?" Viktor asked Yuuri after a while. It had begun to snow and it was cold outside, their breaths hanged in the air like smoke. Viktor noticed that just like their steps seemed to sync up, they were breathing in rhythm too.
Yuuri shook his head. "I'm fine, Viktor, thanks." Viktor nodded but kept close to the other man. Yuuri had wanted to take every precaution and ordered the taxi to an address that was a bit from the hotel. He figured that they would have a lot more time to make sure that no one was following them.
It was so silent that not even the most skilled spy would have been able to catch them. It was a relieve, and Yuuri felt that freedom was closer than he had previously thought. "It's just around that corner." Yuuri said and smiled at Viktor, who looked a bit pale. Which was understandable, he was after all running from a very dangerous regime. He could lose his life for this if he was caught. Or he would lose his life for it if he wasn't Viktor Nikiforov. Still, the skater would face some sort of consequences, but maybe not as harsh as others.
It was a little roundabout in an alley that Yuuri had chosen because it looked secluded, but yet a places from where two people could need to be picked up from in the middle of a cold, snowy night. A single streetlight illuminated it, and it was fully deserted. There were residential homes all around them, but each and every window was dark except for one. That did not make Yuuri become less careful though. "This is it," Yuuri said and stood close to Viktor.
They waited.
Perhaps things would have been easier for them if the taxi had already been there. If Christophe had stood on Viktor's other side and joked with them. If things had been different.
But they weren't.
Viktor was given time to think. Not to think with his intellect, but rather with his emotions, especially the emotion that was beating inside his heart, roaring in his chest and making his crotch tickle. He was scared of the new things that would come. He was terrified of what was happening. And he realised that he couldn't do it. He realised that he couldn't do what Yuuri wanted him to do.
How many minutes took it for him to say it? To gather up the courage to say that he was scared? That he couldn't? If he had spoken sooner, maybe Yuuri had been able to calm him. But he didn't speak quickly, but let the cold silence fill the void, and his mind, with more ideas.
"I can't do it, Yuuri."
Viktor Nikiforov's accent was much better than it had been four years ago. He pronounced the words with ease. Snowflakes stuck to their thick coats, and the lonely street-light illuminated them in the middle of the night. Their cheeks were getting stiff from the cold caresses of the late winter, and Yuuri's leather gloves didn't make his fingers any warmer.
It was so serene. The silence laid over them like a heavy blanket, as if the sounds from the outside world couldn't travel through the mace that the snowflakes made. There was no storm, there wasn't even wind, the snow was falling peacefully. Viktor's hair looked wet, but Yuuri's looked like a starry summer night, with dots strewn over the black hair.
"I can't." The words came again, as if they would make more sense if the older man spoke them again.
Perhaps they had both known that this was how it would go. "All you have to do is to get into the taxi, Viktor." Yuuri spoke softly.
Viktor shook his head and took a few steps away from Yuuri. He looked so beautiful in the beige wool coat, the red scarf contrasting to his fair colours. "Yuuri, I…" Warm tears roll down Yuuri's cheeks, blurring his vision. Not now, he thought, not now. He wanted to see Viktor, he wanted to look at him. He removed his glasses to rub his eyes, to get the teas away. He wanted to see Viktor.
"Why not?" Yuuri looked at him. "Why can't you leave?"
Viktor didn't have an answer for Yuuri. He really did not. But he knew that he could not get into the taxi. He knew that he couldn't defect, that he couldn't leave that life behind. Viktor was terrified. He thought about his things, about his photographs, the medals he had won, the things that he had achieved. He thought about Easter cakes and his mother. He thought about Georgi and Yuri and Otabek. He even thought about Yakov.
In front of him stood the man that made his heart beat faster every time he thought about him. But right now his heart was beating out of fear. Viktor once more shook his head and reached out to grab Yuuri's hands, but the younger man pushed him away. "I can not live like this Viktor," Yuuri said as tears streamed down his cheeks behind his glasses.
Viktor lowered his head. "I understand."
Yuuri tried again. "Please, Viktor."
How long did they stay silent? Viktor's nose was beginning to turn red as he stood there, curled together with a blanket of snow over him. "I can't defect, I can't do it."
"Please come with me, Viktor."
One last attempt. Viktor stood silently still. He was so beautiful, his ash blonde hair falling into his face. Yuuri didn't want to cry, he wanted to be able to look at Viktor. He wanted to cup his cheeks and kiss him, grab his hand and give him courage.
But someone could see them.
Yuuri tried his best not to hide his hands in his face, but tears streamed down his face. He didn't want to cry, but how couldn't he?
Viktor took a step backwards, now standing too far away for Yuuri to grab him. He didn't say anything, but through his blurred vision, Yuuri saw how the man wiped away a tear. This is how I am going to remember him, Yuuri thought to himself. Viktor was beautiful even when crying.
The taxi arrived, it's headlights illuminating them both. Yuuri stood still, and his mouth moved to form a final please that was drowned out by the sound of the car horn. Yuuri looked at Viktor who stared towards the car with a scared expression. The Japanese man moved first, taking a step towards the car, and when the other man didn't follow, he accepted that it was how it was going to be. How it was going to end.
There was no last kiss. There were no final good byes.
Yuuri went back to the hotel in the taxi, and he saw Viktor at breakfast that morning. Sasuki was reading a book, Yuuri was eating toast and Viktor sat with his coach and Yuri Plisetsky. Their eyes didn't meet.
Their eyes didn't meet as they had to be at the rink, as they skated and passed each other.
Viktor had never done poorly, but by his standards he did that competition, only barely making it to the podium, winning a silver, just a few points over Yuri Plisetsky who became the new champion in his first World Championships.
Yakov had beaten the older skater after each and every program, and Yuuri had wanted to go over to him, to help Viktor with the skate blades, to let the blonde man lean against his body. Just like he had done four years ago.
But he didn't.
And they never spoke again.