A/N: People asked for it, here it is! Enjoy! (Also, keep in mind who the POV is from, hence the tone difference)

TEN

It takes all of twenty minutes for Yuri to reply to his taunting message, a quick snap of his headphones on the keyboard of his laptop, a mixing program on the screen. He's made sure that the save file name MarchBirthdays is visible, so he's honestly surprised it takes that long, but it's a Friday and Yuri is probably still at the rink. When he gets the messages, he's brushing his teeth and pauses to read them, toothbrush tucked in his cheek.

'!'

'THAT BETTER BE FOR ME.'

'WAit, why is it plural?'

'BEKA'

Otabek smiles around the toothbrush, then sets the phone aside, intentionally ignoring his best friend to finish getting ready. After he's done with his teeth he does a quick razor through his undercut and a brush through his hair, then raids his dresser for one of his favorite after-hours work outfits. He can hear his phone continuing to vibrate with messages that come more consistently the longer he ignores it, and it's stupid how much he enjoys knowing he has Yuri's attention, especially the day before he knows Yuri is competing.

He pulls on a white mesh shirt and is putting his arm into a black and grey 3/4ths sleeve blazer when his phone notifies him of an incoming Skype call. He pauses, then goes to the bathroom and picks up the phone, eyebrow lifting at Yuri's name on his screen. Yuri must be desperate to be calling him when he knows he's working tonight.

He smirks and hits the ignore button.

Yuri calls again an instant later, it's so fast Otabek actually laughs out loud, startling Лео who had trailed into the bathroom after him, he watches the kitten flee the room back to the safety of his bedroom. He lets it ring twice before he hangs it up again. Yuri sends a flurry of messages, mostly half-typed insults.

When there's a pause, he finally types, 'I have to get going, you should relax and focus on tomorrow. Eat something, I know you haven't.'

His reply is a picture of a plate of bland looking food and, 'fuck u'

Otabek snaps a photo of himself in the mirror and sends it off for approval in reply.

༺༻

The sun's already set by the time he pulls his motorcycle into his reserved spot at the back of the club. It's still early, but he can hear the music inside calling for people, beckoning the crowds to line up for opening time, and he's a bit surprised to see the line when he rounds the building to the entrance. He shifts his bag on his shoulder and tugs his jacket closer a little before approaching, keeping his head down to hide his face. They've got posters of it plastered all over the front of the building and the last thing he really needs is to be spotted, but the back door has been busted for months and can only be opened from inside, so he's forced to go through the front.

Oraz bumps his fist and lets him through, then blocks the door like a brick wall again and recognition must ripple through the crowd as a cheer goes up then dies away. He glances back, but there's nothing to see except Oraz's broad shoulders, so he winds through the dark hall and into the empty theatre.

"There he is!" Medina is up on the platform, headphones around her neck, and she steps away from the boards to lean over the railing and wave at him as if he doesn't see her all the time. He waves at her once, then crosses the empty dancefloor, watching the flashing lights on the ground, to the bar to check in with the owner. Tazhibai smiles at him and moves to the fridges to fish out his usual request for a beer before his performances and he assumes water is already up on the platform.

"There's a crowd outside already, did you do some advertising?"

Tazhi grins and he sees her earrings flash in the neon lights before they hide in her curly hair when she shakes her head, "That's all you, sweet thing. I just flash your name on our page and they all come running. Hope you've got some magic for us tonight."

Otabek drains a quarter of the beer, then pats the bar with his hand, "Don't I always?" He points a finger at her, then heads for the platform, taking the stairs two at a time to meet Medina at the top. He flips open his bag, fishes out a USB stick, pausing when his hand finds an MP3 player. For a moment, he's confused, but then he remembers and his eyes widen.

"Beshka?" Medina's voice drags him back into the present and he lets it drop back into the bottom of the bag.

"Yeah. Yeah, here. Get this in, I'll be right back." He tosses her the stick, then heads down for the makeshift green room hiding behind curtains at the bottom of the stairs, through a door in the wall. The sudden silence behind the thick door is a strange comfort, but the bass echoes in his ears still and does nothing to silence the other song suddenly filling his mind.

He shouldn't be thinking about any of this right now. He needs to focus and thinking about Yuri is really the farthest thing from focusing on work as he can get. His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he fishes it out before he sheds his leather jacket and hangs it with his bag on a hook on the wall.

It's a snap from Mila, which is not what he was expecting, but when he opens it, he sees why he got it. It's Mila and Yuri, both of their hair wrapped up in towels, faces covered in sickeningly green-colored goop, wearing hotel bathrobes and reclining on a bed. Both are giving him a thumbs up with serious expressions and the caption simply says davai.

Otabek doesn't care that they'll see when he does it; he screenshots it before it can vanish and puts it in his folder of Yuri photos, which is stupidly large and he should probably clean out at some point. He doesn't send a reply to Mila, but shoots Yuri one more message before he tucks his phone away in his jacket again.

'Sleep well, I'll talk to you tomorrow.'

༺༻

They'd gone to a club together exactly once since the Madness fiasco, and it had been relatively tame, since they'd been accompanied by literally every other skater in the circuit. This time, though, they were slipping out unnoticed, heading as far on the other side of town as Otabek's rental bike and Google Maps would take them. They couldn't read the sign outside, and the bouncer at the door didn't understand English or Russian so the language barrier made it interesting getting in, but once inside it was like any other club Otabek had played.

Only, he wasn't playing the stage that time. He watched the lights play with Yuri's blonde hair as he weaved through the crowded bodies like he was invisible, dragging Otabek along by the wrist behind him. They hit the bar first, Otabek managing a beer while Yuri somehow got across his need for something with vodka, which made Otabek laugh and earned him a sharp glare. Yuri finished his in a few short gulps, then gestured to the dancefloor, eyes already sharp and analyzing. Otabek shook his head and held up his beer, to which Yuri rolled his eyes and abandoned him to wander into the crowd.

Otabek shifted on his barstool until he could see the blonde, who already seemed at home, lifting his hands up into the air with the strangers around him, hips gyrating to the beat. Otabek knew how these dances went, had seen it unfold a million times before. People were almost always single when they started out on the floor, everyone there was there to move, after all. The beat shifted and the crowd started bouncing to match the heavy bass, arms waving wildly. Otabek lost Yuri to the insanity that descended.

He drained his beer and pushed himself to his feet, hunting for the blonde. Bodies jumped higher as the song reached its peak, and then suddenly dipped into a lull. Blue lights seemed to summon him as he stepped towards the floor, and he suddenly found his best friend again. Yuri was facing him, arms above him, head tipped back, blonde hair loose tangles over his shoulder and down his back. He had his eyes closed and just a hint of a smile on his lips that made Otabek's steps falter and his heart stutter.

He both loved and hated seeing Yuri like this, intimate and anonymous, untouched and innocent, beautiful and free. He burned like fire, moved like smoke, lived like nothing Otabek had ever experienced. Otabek wasn't sure how he'd ever been so lucky to earn Yuri's attention. He clenched his hand into a fist, dragged in a calming breath, then crossed the dancefloor just as the song shifted. Yuri must have sensed him, he tilted his head down, eyelashes fluttering. His smile grew wider as sea-green met brown and a delicate hand extended an invitation.

Otabek never danced at the clubs he went to, he was always there to perform or to drink with friends. That was the first time he'd ever danced anywhere without ice, and the first time he'd heard the beginnings of a song in his head that wouldn't leave him be.

༺༻

The set goes better than well, he plays until closing time and his take in tips is huge. He counts out the bills again before tucking them away in his jacket pocket. He's not one for interacting with his audience, but some people pay good money for VIP and he returns to the after-party for a brief meet-and-greet to sign autographs and take a few photos. It's nearly four am by the time he's finally heading back to his motorcycle, shouting one more good-bye to Tazhibai as he make sure she gets in her car before he finds his key and his phone.

It's been a long night and he doesn't have anywhere to be in the morning, so he'll probably sleep through his alarm he'd set to watch Yuri's live-stream, so he pulls up their Skype and shoots off one more message.

'Good morning. Kick everyone else's ass. Davai.'

His bike purrs to life under him and he clicks on his helmet, doing one last check that everything is secure before pushing the kickstand up and heading out onto the main road.

He doesn't remember anything after that left turn.

༺༻

Things come back slowly. He hears Yuri's voice, but it's in a fog and all he wants to do is sleep. Yuri wouldn't be in Almaty, anyway.

He goes back to sleep, because Yuri will be there in his dreams.

༺༻

The next time he's aware of anything, his sister is leaning over him and he can smell his father's cologne. Where is he? Why are his parents and sister there? He hears his mother coo at him, fingers in his hair, and he fights against drowsiness that tries to pull him back so he can look at her. His body doesn't move like he wants it to and his eyes won't focus.

His mother is saying something, he knows it's Kazakh, but his brain won't translate it to mean anything. Everything hurts in a dull, far off way, like he's disconnected from himself. He barely feels when a soft hand lifts his and Alina leans into his line of sight again.

There's a constant beep to his left and something sharp in his arm and his leg is propped up and numb. He's trying to piece it all together, but nothing fits. He'd finished the club, headed home.

He finally understands the word, "Doctor." and things start to fall into place. Hospital. Something bad happened. ана is crying, fingers in his hair again as she stumbles through words he can't catch. He closes his eyes again to try to focus on what she's saying.

When he opens them, the room is dark and he's alone.

༺༻

Alina talks. She has always been the talker of the two, but now he thinks she does it because he can't. Won't. She tells him Yuri is here, sleeping in his apartment and that makes him both embarrassed and happy. She tells him she took Yuri to MEGA Ice and how pretty he is in person and how worried they've all been.

He's pieced together what he can, but he can't remember anything. His bike is totaled, his leg will take time to heal, his skating career may be ruined. The first sucks, the second is annoying, the third is devastating. It sets him on edge and it makes him forget simple things quickly. He chases Alina off with a dark look so he can come to terms on his own.

He hasn't even seen Yuri yet. Maybe Yuri will make one visit, hear the doctor say he's done with his skating career and bail. What good is Otabek if he can't compete? He's nothing to Yuri if he can't be competition. It's an ugly thought and it makes him scare off a nurse later in the evening.

There's no sign of Yuri or his friends for days, though his mother says they're worried about him. He feels bitter about it at first, finds himself in the stages of grief. It's only on the third day he realizes it's the doctors keeping them away. Because he can't convey his thoughts properly.

Because he's been broken and they can't figure out how to fix him. He can think what he wants to say, he practices it over and over in his mind, but when he tries to push it out, to make words, it's all wrong. The anger returns. It fast becomes a friend that follows him into sleep.

༺༻

He's moved rooms and every time he wakes it's disorienting. He's lost to begin with, and the scenery chance just makes it worse. But one morning he wakes up to the sun slipping through the blinds and he realizes there's someone there with him. He's sure it's the medication in his IV when he finds Yuri beside him. Yuri's voice is so soft, he thinks it's just a figment of his imagination.

But then Yuri keeps talking, "There are easier ways to get me to visit, you know." He turns his head to the side, "Your family has been nice and your friends are interesting? Loud. Weird." Yuri looks back at him again and it frees something inside his chest, "Not you."

Maybe he can do this. With Yuri here, maybe things will be okay. For the first time in days, he makes an effort to move on his own. In the end, it takes help, but they get him sitting upright and he feels more like himself than he has in days. Maybe it's because he moved, maybe it's because Yuri is here, but he feels like maybe, maybe, things can get better.

Yuri talks. Otabek hears, but he can't listen. All he wants is to say his name. If he can do that, maybe it will be a new beginning, the silver lining he's been looking for. Yura. He thinks it to himself, he's said it a million times, Yura. It's a prayer he wants heard so, so bad. Yura.

Yura. He watches Yuri's eyes, the light in them as he animates himself in his story. Yura. Yura. Yura.

"Green." No. Fuck.

"What?" Yuri sounds breathless.

That isn't what he wanted to say. Why would he say that? Why is his body doing this to him? He wants to apologize, to try again, to explain away everything. Of course, nothing he wants to say comes out, only, "Three kings."

Curse it all. He can see Yuri trying to figure it out. But there's nothing for him to figure out, Otabek knows he's destroyed. He curls his hands into fists and fights the urge to press the morphine button until he can't breathe. It wouldn't work, but it would make him feel better temporarily.

Pale fingers cover his hand, draw him out of his dark thoughts. He looks up and Yuri looks him in the eye and says, "We'll figure this out, Beka."

Otabek takes his hand and believes him.

༺༻

He dreams a lot, his brain trying to reconnect the pieces. He would label them nightmares, but one of them may be true. All of them end in bright light and his bike skidding sideways. Sometimes, Yuri is with him, a warmth against his back, hands around his waist that vanish and leave him shaking when he wakes up.

Diaz is watching him when he bolts awake, he looks like a shadow of his usual collected self. Otabek classifies his life into four categories; family, skating, Yura, and his friends. He's known Diaz and Medina for forever, he learned to braid hair watching Diaz, learned his first music mixing program from Medina, performed on his first stage with both of them. Before Yuri, they were what he thought all friendships were like. He's, of course, learned the difference by now. And he's learned Diaz can read him easier than almost anyone.

Diaz doesn't ask questions, it's probably pretty obvious what he was dreaming about, all things considered. Instead, he runs fingers through his curled hair, sighs, and says, "If you fuck this up, I will kill you myself and Medina has volunteered to help hide your body."

Otabek frowns and hits the button to incline his bed, wincing as it bends him in sore places. Diaz doesn't expand on his threat, he stands up and starts pacing, hands in his hair again. It takes a few moments and two treks across the small room before Diaz says, "You know that kid flew out here the day after the accident? Alina said he didn't even have a fucking hotel room arranged, so that's why he's at your place. He literally dropped his entire life to be here." He paces back to the foot of the bed, "We've all been worried about you, but that kid-Yuri-but Yuri's been a walking ball of stress since he got here. I don't know all the details, we've tried to hang out with him when we could, but…"

Diaz walks back to the window and looks outside, "I took him to the studio. I played him the acoustics of your song." Otabek freezes, eyes going wide. Diaz still doesn't turn around, just continues, "I didn't tell him anything about it, but he was skating to that horrible file you sent me originally, with you humming the tune. It was sad, I couldn't leave him to listen to that when we didn't know if…" Diaz finally turns as he trails off, looking at his friend, "So when you get feeling up to it, we'll all celebrate your survival. And then you talk. to. him."

The door to the room opens while Diaz is ranting, and there's too many things going on. Yuri is here. Yuri's heard his music. Yuri's heard his song. Yuri knows. But how much? And how much has he found in the apartment? Maybe he's been too busy with other things. Maybe he's kept to himself. Yuri is avoiding his eyes, it makes him nervous. What is going on? Otabek offers him a smile, tries to make him relax.

"You're both idiots. If neither of you figure it out, maybe I'll just murder you both." Diaz finally realizes Yuri is in the room, it doesn't seem to phase him, probably because Yuri can't understand him. He looks between the two of them, zips up his jacket and says, "I should give you guys some space. Think about it, Beshka, I know what I'm talking about." Pointing a finger at him, before brushing past the bed and out the door.

Yuri turns to watch him leave, then spins back, frowning, "What was-" He cuts himself off, lifting his free hand as if Otabek will interrupt, "Never mind, I don't want to know."

Otabek smiles again, but it fades when Yuri looks away. What is going on? Yuri is obviously uncomfortable being here. Maybe something has happened? Did he do something wrong? Is Lilia taking him home? What is bothering him?

Yuri shifts in his seat and twists his hands together, still not looking at him, "I'm sorry I didn't come back yesterday. I lost track of time. Were you okay?"

Otabek nods. Yesterday was a whirlwind of visitors. Yesterday was Yuri's first day of practice at Otabek's rink, he hadn't really been expecting him to come back. And his sister had kept him company for most of the day anyway. He takes a chance, pushes her name from his brain to his lips, "Ali."

"Ali? Alina? Oh, god, that's cute, I'm going to call her that now." Otabek shakes his head and waves a hand back and forth. Oh god, she'd kill Otabek if she ever found out Yuri got the idea from him. She hated that name growing up, "No? Don't tell me no. She likes me, she'll let me call her whatever I want. You're her brother, you don't get a say." Yuri sticks his tongue out at him.

Otabek pauses, then laughs. It feels amazing. He can do this. Whatever was wrong seems to no longer be bothering Yuri. Maybe it's because Otabek said what he meant, maybe it's just because they're together again. It makes Otabek brave, and he holds out his hand, palm up.

Yuri hesitates, then takes it, fingers a little cold and careful. Otabek holds on to him carefully and meets his eyes again. The blonde uses his free hand to push his hair out of his eye and leans forward in his chair.

"By the way, I renamed your cat."

༺༻

The fight is all uphill, he has physical therapy on his good leg and his arms every morning, the speech therapist comes in after lunch. He feels like he fails more than he succeeds with both. With his fractured leg, he can't do much until it begins to heal, so he's stuck mostly in his bed, and his brain still feels scattered when he tries to do anything too taxing. He can't write lyrics, he can't mix music, he can only read for so long before blinding headaches hit him.

But they tell him it's getting better, that he's getting better. He finally manages to get Medina to bring him a board and marker so he can at least write quick thoughts and replies out to people and that makes everything feel a million times easier. He tries not to rely on it, but sometimes trying to speak gets to be too frustrating. Especially when he argued with Diaz to hold off his 'party' until he could say full sentences.

It's been two weeks since he learned Лео is now сенімен and he's amazed he's only seen Lilia twice and she was relatively pleasant both times. All he can figure is Yuri must be trying his best to appease her so she doesn't ship them both home. Otabek honestly has no idea how Yuri has managed to stay so long, much less why he would. He has work to do, the new season has begun, he has competitions coming up, he should go home and get ready. And yet he's still here, in Almaty, visiting him every morning and most evenings, staying most of his free days in the hospital room telling him about everything and nothing. Otabek feels like he's still alive because of Yuri's voice.

"Come, Otabek. It's been long enough, let's swing those legs over the side of the bed." His physical therapist has been pushing for this for the past few days. He seems to think Otabek is ready to stand up again, maybe even take a few steps. Otabek is less than willing to believe him, especially when he gets his legs over the side of the bed and pushes himself up with his good arm only to have dizziness slam into him like a brick wall.

"I've got you," at least his therapist has a soothing voice, "Your body isn't used to it anymore, let's take it slow and give it time to adjust. Your brain needs to sort out the orientation again, so don't move too quickly."

He closes his eyes and says a short prayer, but the room still spins when he opens them again. He knew recovery was going to be difficult, but he's always trained hard, he'd figured he's ready for anything. Apparently, he's not. There's an arm under his and one around his waist on his bad side, and it's urging him to rise. The therapist wants him to lean his weight on him like a crutch, so he does, and almost falls as his good leg almost gives out.

But in the end, it doesn't. He stays where he is while his blood circulates and makes him dizzy again. Then the therapist is reaching for crutches and explaining how they work, but Otabek can only half focus on the words.

The door opens and sunlight pours in. But it isn't sunlight. It's in human form, and it pauses, still holding the door. The therapist turns to scold the interruption, but Otabek puts his good hand out to stop him.

"Yura."

The golden figure laughs and it's the most beautiful music Otabek has ever heard.