Regret was a word that Viktor was not familiar with. He always did what he wanted, he never faced any hardships, and he had never looked back with sadness of all of the mistakes he had made. He wasn't like that, and when he made mistakes, he saw them as lessons to learn from, to get better. He had had his loves, and he had had his heart broken, but he had never regretted it. Of course, he had felt the feeling, when he made a stupid mistake like reading the wrong book for school when in fact he should have read another one, or when he forgot his mother's birthday one year.

But as soon as Yuuri had turned his back to him, he had started to regret his decision. He wanted to run after him, as if it was a romance novel in one of those magazines that laid in hotel lobbies. Viktor wanted to call out for him, but he couldn't. He was too scared, terrified of the thought of leaving the regime that was everything to him behind.

It wasn't until he stood next to Yakov at the airport and the man showed the security their passports, as he thought about the fact that Yakov always kept his passport in his own room, in his own pocket, he realised that he didn't want to go back to the Soviet Union. Too late. He didn't want to board the plane, he didn't want to have to deal with all the pills, his shaking nerves, his hair was beginning to fall out too. He didn't want to smile at the kids that the taught anymore and he began to wonder why Lenin would be happy that they exercised and played football well? Why he should tell them that the great Lenin would think that?

For a moment, Viktor considered running. Yakov was old and out-of-shape. But what would he do? Yuuri had had a plan, a map, money. Viktor didn't have anything. So he followed Yakov through the customs, trying his best not to look as he was feeling. As his heart wasn't pounding in his chest, as if his throat wasn't clogged up so badly it felt as if he couldn't breathe. His legs felt weak and he couldn't smile as he usually said. Yakov didn't seem to notice how the skater felt and instead spoke with Yuri.

Next year, he'd find himself at the world championships, and he'd be alone. Yuuri wouldn't be smiling to him across the ice, Christophe wouldn't guide him around to restaurants. He'd be alone. 29 years old and alone.

He had never regretted something so badly. He usually slept on the plane, but he couldn't. He couldn't even sleep when they got home, and had to ask Yakov for his sleeping aids, which he had not used for some time.

Leningrad usually looked beautiful in March, as spring was beginning to burst through the icy hands of the dying winter. But Viktor didn't care that much this time. If he wasn't teaching the kids, which turned more and more into Georgi's responsibility, or at the ice, he was running. When he wasn't running he tried to occupy his mind with something else. But never on the beautiful spring that was beginning to bloom around him, slowly but surely. He even tried to flirt with a young skater, and while it worked, he felt even more regret once they had made out with each other.

He tried writing to Yuuri, but he never got a reply, and he figured that he was just annoying him. It was better to try and forget the man, and that was what he did. The more he kept himself busy, the easier it was to forget.

By the summer, he had gotten used to not looking forward to Yuuri's letters, to not writing them. He couldn't stop thinking about him, he thought about Yuuri as he ate breakfast, as he was skating, as he read about Japan in the morning paper. There was signs of Yuuri everywhere, and while he could try and forget about him, it was hard.

The skating season began, the nationals, Europeans and Olympics went by. Viktor won his second Olympic gold, and was greeted as a hero as he returned. He was awarded with the highest decoration in the Soviet Union, the "Order of Lenin" in a nice ceremony where people praised him and other skaters, were he sat in a banquet hall and got a nice dinner. He had gotten orders before and he had always been so proud of them, but not this one. This one just hanged heavy on his chest. All he did was skating. Why was he given an order? He wasn't sure, and the words that Yuuri had told him more than two years ago, that he had been made but the communist regime echoed in his mind through-out the evening.

Georgi had quit skating, so it meant that the three spots in the Worlds and Europeans would go to Viktor, Yuri and Otabek. Viktor could be excited for that, and as they were going to Colorado Springs for Worlds, Viktor was able to tell them all about the city. It meant he had to think of Yuuri as he told them about the great jogging tracks, about the restaurants, the hotel. Otabek listened carefully, it would be the first time Yuri and Otabek was outside of Europe and Viktor was willing to tell them everything about America.

One morning, just a couple of days after Viktor and Yuuri had gotten back from the Olympics in Austria, Viktor woke up in his room by Yakov's yelling. He had his own room now, since Georgi had married and moved out with his wife. It wasn't uncommon to hear Yakov yell. Not at Otabek, as the skater mostly did what Yakov wanted him too, but he often yelled at both Viktor and Yuri. But this was different, he wasn't yelling because he was angry at Yuri eating sweets in the bed, but something more concerning "I should have known better, fucking homos!" Viktor bolted up from his bed, and ran over to the other room. He knew that Otabek and Yuri were together, he heard them even more now when Yuri was old

He saw the two younger, much younger, skaters being beaten with Otabek's hockey stick. They were both in bed, still naked and had obviously been doing something together.

Yakov was over 70, and while he wasn't as physically fit as he had once been, and with the wooden stick in his hand, he was clearly hurting them. If Otabek had not shielded Yuri, Viktor assumed that the blonde boy would have tried to get away from the situation, but now he was being held down by the man. "Yakov!" Viktor yelled and placed his hands on his shoulders. "Yakov, stop hitting them!" Viktor grabbed the stick and bent it from his hands. Viktor remembered how he himself had been beaten up, at the same age as Yuuri was in now, how Yakov had made him feel, how he had realised that he should hide better.

"Viktor, they're homosexuals, homosexuals! I found them… going at it, I am not sure it was they were trying to accomplish, but it was disgusting and completely amoral!" Yakov looked at him and remembered who he was talking to. He moved away from the boys on the bed and shook his head. Yakov only wanted his skaters to do two things, to be good skaters and well-adjusted citizens. He saw them as his children, as he had taken care of them since they were young. Viktor had been the youngest and he had been there for him through thick and thin. That all of his skaters seemed to be so perverted made him wonder what he had done wrong?

Yakov rushed past them. Lilia stood in the hallway, looking at Viktor with a puzzled look. Her husband was often grumpy, but very seldom was he angry. Yakov turned around, and pointed towards Viktor who stood in the door frame. "What is wrong with all of you?" Yakov yelled. "Have I really failed this much in raising you?"

Viktor stood still, knowing that there was no idea to argue with him. Otabek came out in the hallway to apologize. He had his head lowered, and Viktor could see that he would get bruises all over himself. "I'm sorry. Comrade Feltsman, please don't…"

"Don't comrade me you chink!" Saliva flew out of his mouth as he yelled at Otabek. Yakov then turned to look at Viktor. "And you!" Viktor raised his arms as if he was asking what he had done. "When are you going to grow up?! You're soon 30 and you behave like a teenager." Viktor stood still, not sure what he was supposed to say. Yakov wasn't going to be calmed by anything that Viktor had to say either way. He could try and pat his shoulder, or hug him, but perhaps that just proved that he was childish. "Do you know what I have had to do for your sake?"

Otabek moved in with Viktor, and while he usually didn't say that much, he was strangely quiet. His back was badly bruised, but otherwise Yakov's attack hadn't seemed to affect him. Yuri was silent and completely ignored Yakov, refusing to go to the Komsomol meetings or be in any interviews in preparation for the World Championships. He said nothing during their dinners, which wasn't uncommon but not even when Viktor made fun of him, the boy said anything. Yakov was also quiet, clearly still upset.

There was only one month between the Olympics and the World Championships, which would be in Colorado Springs. Yakov put them all into hard work, probably as a punishment. That month, Viktor changed his opinion completely, and he grew so much braver. It happened when Yuri uncharacteristically hugged him when they were out on their usual run, and sobbed in his arms. "I hate it here, I hate it." The young boy leaned towards him. "It's not because I'm just 19! I don't want to live here any longer."

Viktor had never seen Yuri cry. He had never seen him emotional at all and to have the almost ten years younger boy now cry against his shoulder was strange. Viktor patted his back and hoped that he was doing something right. "I'm going to leave. With Otabek at the worlds. I don't care if he wants to or not, I'm going to take him with me and not give a fuck about this cruel, fucked-up country any longer."

Viktor had never told anyone about what he had planned with Yuuri, except for Christophe. He knew what a mistake he had made last year when he had not gotten into the taxi with Yuri. Perhaps there was still time to fix it? And perhaps it had been meant that he was to stay, so that he could help the two younger skaters. "I'll go with you," he said.

The younger skater pushed away Viktor and wiped away his tears. Yuri looked at him, wanting to say something witty as he was surprised. Viktor had never seemed to do anything else than praise the regime. Yuri had always despised him for that that. The precious Viktor, a Soviet Hero, a man to look up to. He had heard of Viktor before he came to live with Yakov, he had heard how great he was, winning nationals and small skating competitions all around the Soviet Union. He had idolised the man as he grew up, as he became a teenager. Viktor was like his brother. When he had hit puberty he had also gotten "asthma", just like Otabek and Viktor. He had realised much quicker that he didn't have asthma at all and he had been so angry at Viktor for doping himself. More so than he was of himself. Viktor was his idol, someone he had looked up to for years and to learn that the man had been using drugs to get better achievements had hurt him.

That was when he had stopped talking to Viktor, but now, with a couple of weeks left before the World Championships in the US, he had to talk to him. He and Otabek had been surprised to hear that Yuuri Katsuki wasn't coming back to competitive skating and seeing Viktor alone at the Olympics had been odd. So, he figured that he could tell him what he wanted, and he had almost thought that Viktor would try and oppose them, tell Yakov about it. But Viktor didn't. Viktor took both Otabek and Yuri on separate runs, and they discussed things with each other. Viktor had the same plan as Yuuri had had, and since he had been in Colorado Springs before, he had a pretty good idea of what to do.

In the end, they got help from Leo de la Iglesias, without him they probably had not been able to achieve it. Viktor would always remember that moment when Yuri, a blonde Yuri knocked on his door. It was just like the last time, only that this time he wasn't alone. It wasn't just him and Yuuri sneaking around, but he had an American, two of his own He wanted to refuse once more but Yuri had looked at him with stern eyes, his brows furrowed. "You're coming with us whether you like it or not," he had said. Otabek had looked at Viktor and then shrugged. "I'm not leaving without your stupid ass, you're not going to win at the worlds after I did."

So, Viktor had followed with them.

And so Viktor had decided to leave. They did it before the competitions began, and while Yakov and the two intelligence officers that had gone with them yelled at them and tried everything in their might to get them out of the hands from the US government, who had immediately helped them.

Viktor had never felt so lost in his life. He had never felt so free either. At first there was a ton of tests, he spoke to military personnel, to psychologists, he was sure he heard the president's voice on a line as well. Viktor admitted to using performance drugs and he heard the doctors and an officer talk about whether that would be beneficial to the United States or not at that moment. There was interviews, in magazines, on radio, even on television, he had to talk badly about the country, and for a while he was a bit scared that he'd be murdered after a comment from a police officer about spies.

But nothing happened. Not to him, nor to Yuri and Otabek. His fame didn't die down during the summer. Viktor felt free. And he realised that he would have felt so much freer so much earlier, if only he had listened to Yuuri.

He tried writing him a letter, but it was returned to him.

If only he had not been so scared.

If Viktor had felt regret, all that Yuuri had felt was pain.

As he returned to Hasetsu, he realised that not only the life he had imagined with Viktor had ended, but also all that had ever been his life. He didn't need to wake up early to run, he didn't need to go to the ice rink. From having his whole life be about two things, skating and Viktor, he found himself to have nothing. There wasn't even the comforting rhythm of school to keep him busy.

His friends were all busy with their jobs, and their growing families, and he found himself feeling lonely in the town where he lived. He went back to his mother and father, and while they as always welcomed him with open arms, and his mother fed him, it wasn't the same. He laid on futon and stared into the ceilings at night, feeling an overwhelming grief.

It was as if he had died.

He even thought that maybe that was for the best. He would walk along the beach, looking towards the horizon as the grey clouds hanged onto the sky. The cold, grey waves rolled into the beach, sometimes making his shoes wet. The seagulls cawed over his head and if he closed his eyes and tied his scarf closer around his neck, he could almost imagine that it was summer.

He never did it though. He had let Viktor, and his love for Viktor, rule his life for four years, and he wouldn't allow it to go on any further. He was four years older now, and at age 24, he should be able to live his own life.

There was so much more to life than Viktor, he thought and was reminded of that as he went back to his small apartment in Kagoshima, which he had lived in since he graduated from the university in the same city. Living surrounded by students didn't make him feel better, but Kagoshima was a large town and he soon got a job as a translator and interpreter at an electronics company that dealt with NASA and computer technology. He liked his co-workers too and learning the technical lingo was also a fun new challenge. He was able to save up a lot of money to buy an apartment as the pay he earned was good. Moving meant that Viktor no longer had his address.

Viktor had been sending letters to him. Three of them. They had ceased to come just before the summer and while Yuuri thought that Viktor had given up, decided to move on just like he had, he was scared that he would one day find himself coming home to a familiar letter with Viktor's handprinted letters on it. He had read the letters that Viktor sent, the first one with it's apology had made him cry, and he almost wrote back, saying that it was alright, that they could still love each other from a far. But he couldn't do that, he just couldn't, no matter how many times he tried, he couldn't do it. The second letter had been a reminder that he should write to Viktor. The last letter, he had not opened for days, but when he had, he had cried.

It would be a relief not to have to worry about them. He kept all of Viktor's letters, and the photographs of them in a small safe, together with other items that meant a lot to him. He didn't want to be reminded about Viktor, but he also did not want to get rid of him.

In fact, it was very easy to forget about Viktor. Not in the dead of night, but when he was in his suit, talking with an engineer from the United States as he was translating negotiating deals, it was very easy. He met up with old friends all the time, drinking and eating with them. That was how he met Yumiko's brother again, and through him, he got in contact with Yumiko.

He remembered how happy she had made him, and he was chasing for that happiness. Anything that could dampen his anxiety, his nightly thoughts of Viktor was rewarded. Anything that could make him feel normal, like a productive member of society. Anything that could make him stop staring at the photographs he still kept in his drawer, of the two of them four years older and still with hope.

Yuuri took her out on dates, he bought her flowers and gifts. He was still nervous and sweet, and Yumiko was still the same funny, kind and determined girl she had been before. It didn't take long for Yuuri to love the normality he had previously longed for. "Yumiko," Yuuri said and grabbed her hand as they were out on a walk together. "Marry me."

"We haven't spoken for a whole year, Yuuri," Yumiko said but didn't move away from him.

And before the end of 1963, Yuuri and Yumiko stood in front of a priest, ceremoniously watching the priest pour sake into three cups. Yuuri was nervous and smiled at Yumiko as he gave her the first cup, his hands ever so slightly shaking. She smiled at him. He knew that he wasn't honest with her, but he would never be able to love any woman like he loved Viktor.

She had been softer than Viktor had been, when they finally consummated the wedding, and she had smelled a lot sweeter. He told himself that he didn't hate it as he laid next to her, a couple of days after their wedding. But he honestly didn't like it. He had never been with a girl before and while he had never thought much about it, he just never figured that he would be able to do it. That he was too depraved, too strange, too disgusting. But he had managed and Yumiko didn't seem to appalled by him.

Perhaps he was finally becoming normal?

Yuuri had avoided watching any skating competitions other than the Japanese Nationals, as he had promised Kenjirou that he would. He had been interviewed, and asked if he was sure that he wouldn't return to skating. He had just said that he was happy as a married man and that he was sure that Kenjirou would achieve great things at the World Championship and Olympics later that year.

He had not planned on reading about it. Perhaps the scores if they were in the morning paper. But the short program wouldn't start yet, so on that Wednesday morning, he thought he was safe from any news, any pictures, that could remind him of what had passed. He had lazily gotten out of bed, Yumiko's toy poodle moving around his legs as he fetched the paper, almost falling over in his slippers. He had picked up the paper, unfolded the front page just like any other morning and read:

FIGURE SKATING WORLD CHAMPION DEFECTS FROM THE U.S.S.R.

There was a picture of him, a close-up from the airport. Yuuri knew what airport it was, he had been in it himself after all.

The paper hit the floor again and Yuuri stood still, looking at the door. Did he want to read more? Did he want to know if there were any reasons for Viktor's sudden change of mind? Did he want to be reminded about him? About his lips, his thighs, his blonde hair. He didn't. He had managed to forget about him for the past year. From almost thinking about him daily to only be reminded about him from time to time, sometimes weeks passed without him thinking about him. He didn't want to.

He bent down and picked up the paper again, patting the dog as he did. He didn't read the paper that morning, and yet he continued to be reminded about it. His co-workers knew that he had been skating of course, and so did his friends. They knew that he had been friends with "Nikiforofu", Yumiko knew, his parents knew, and everyone wanted to ask him about it.

Even the papers tried to get him to comment on it all, and he found himself coming home from work, sinking down into an armchair and just staring at the TV he had just bought. Even if he didn't care for what it was airing he watched it just to avoid talking to people. Yumiko tried, and while he couldn't tell her the full truth, he could talk to her a little bit.

Why had Viktor decided to do this now? Now when Yuuri was married, when they couldn't be together? He knew that Viktor didn't know that he was married, but surely, he must have understood that Yuuri wasn't going to wait for him? When Yumiko was asleep, he would sit in the living room, crying into his hands. He still loved Viktor, he really did, but what could he do? He was married, Yumiko was the loveliest wife he could imagine, his mother smiled at him and nagged on him that he should make sure she got to become a grandmother. His life with Viktor was over.

Perhaps it had all just been his young mind, something that he had done at university, a young foolish thing. Perhaps he just missed that freedom. He wasn't only longing for Viktor, but also battled with himself whether or not he was normal.

One night, when he was crying in the living room, hiding his face in his hands as tears streamed down his face, he heard Yumiko's footsteps in the hallway. Light and soft. He tried to wipe his tears away before she reached him, but it was still obvious that he had cried. "Yuuri," she said. "Are you crying?" She didn't pretend that she had heard Yuuri cry every night for the past week.

"No, I'm just…"

"It's fine, you're allowed to cry, I just wish you could tell me what it is." Yumiko sat down, not next to him, but opposite him in the armchair. Between them was a coffee table that she had picked out together with him. She sat silent, looking at him with worried eyes.

Yuuri didn't want to face her, not when he was crying over missing his lover. He looked down into his lap, feeling shame build up as her silence felt like an accusation. "I don't know what it is, it's hard to explain."

"Please try," she said, her voice soft as ever.

After a couple of minutes of silence, Yuuri managed to say some of the truth. "Viktor was a friend, we had made plans together, to be together. He promised he'd…" Yuuri's voice broke and he began to cry again.

Yumiko sat silent, not sure how she should interpret Yuuri's words, and for a moment she was closer to the truth than she would ever be, but Yuuri spoke again.

"He betrayed me, Yumiko, I don't understand why, but it feels like I wasn't good enough for him, that it was first when I was gone that he felt that he could…" Once more Yuuri's voice broke down and he began crying, resting his head in his hands.

"Yuuri," Yumiko said and moved around the table, hugging her husband's head. She had nothing more to say, nothing to add. She knew how it was to lose friends, to feel abandoned. She was the same age as Yuuri, and she had thought she was never going to get married as she was so old. They were lucky to have each other. Yumiko kissed the dark hair. "We have each other now, Yuuri."

Yuuri loved Yumiko so much, but he didn't know if he would ever be able to love her like he loved Viktor. They had sex that night again, only for the third time since they had gotten married and three months later, Yuuri sat in a doctor's office, just six months away from becoming a father.

He would never love anything else more than the child that he had never met, he realised as he listened to the doctor talk. He listened more attentively than Yumiko did and from that day on, he decided to no let Viktor's betrayal matter to him.