Chapter 11. In and Out (of Love?)

Viktor Nikiforov's eyes fluttered open to reveal a world of blended colors and undecipherable shapes. The young man squinted, stubbornly attempting to discern the nature of the large dark red blur above him.

"Vitya!" a worried out of his mind Bernd von Düring exclaimed, tentatively laying a hand over one of Viktor's. The skater had been found unconscious by the emergency team Bernd had called to action. He had woken up on his own by the time he was brought to the hospital, and as the German laid eyes on him while he was being transported to a vacant room, he had been crying, shouting, and trying to escape.

They had had to drug him in order to examine him properly. Luckily, he had gotten away with nothing more dangerous than a bruised chest. His mental state was the mystery; the doctors claimed it had to be a temporary shock, the reason why Viktor had subsequently gotten a mild sleeping injection. According to the medics, he would be much better once his body got a proper rest.

The first dose of sedatives had waned, and the second, much weaker one, hadn't yet kicked in as Viktor was still blinking and squinting at von Düring with an annoyed expression.

"…Bernd Axel?" he finally asked, voice trembling, face blanching. He moved as if to stand up but failed even to remain in a sitting position.

It pained von Düring to see him like that. He had little time before Viktor was out again, and he had to make the most of it, so he answered quickly:
"Yes, it's me, Vitya. Everything will be alright, you, neposhlushnyy rebyonok."

Viktor's eyes widened in surprise before a shy smile appeared on his face.

"Don't you smile at me, you are the worst, naughtiest, and most foolish kid on Earth; you scared the living hell out of me!"

The skater's expression immediately grew sorrowful, and he turned his head away, wincing at the pain his overstretched neck muscles and tendons gave him.

Damn, I just couldn't keep my cursed temper in check!

The businessman closed his eyes, breathing deeply. A tear rolled out of each of his eyes, as he opened them again. Von Düring moved closer to the bed and sneaked a hand between Viktor's right cheek and his pillow, slowly turning the skater's face in his direction.

"Я люблю тебя, Витенка," the German said softly, his thumb painting soothing circles on the smooth skin.

Viktor's body convulsed, and his eyes went wild in a matter of seconds. He rose up horrified, crying in pain as everything seemed to hurt. In the meantime, a pair of arms had engulfed him, gently supporting his back and his head, the person in front of him warm, worried, welcoming.

The skater's fist unclenched, deep nail marks visible on the inside of his aching palms. He felt weak, every movement of his seemed to get rewarded with pain, so he stood still, struggling to rationalize the situation. He soon gave up – the terrifying words in Russian Bernd had said made no sense. The conclusion calmed Viktor down, so he complied obediently when the German begged him to lay down. Then the man laid his head next to his, cheeks making slight contact.

Viktor huffed, tensed, but as he caught a glimpse of Bernd's ruffled ruby curls, he unexpectedly snickered, having a good idea how much time and hair gel it would take his friend to tame them again. He nuzzled into the comforting mess of hair until it vanished together with the warm cheek.

Von Düring was now looking at him from a sitting position. In a… Oh, no, just as he had feared – a hospital room!

"Vitya, you are fine, you are here to rest for a while, that's all," Bernd tried to assuage the slightly shivering skater, much aware of his disdain for hospitals.

"Take me away from here!" Viktor commanded.

"It's only for a short while, Vitenka." Bernd's pleading look calmed Viktor down… Or was it the injection? Probably, the skater's eyelids were hooding half of his eyes, and his breathing had slowed down.

"Stay with me?" Viktor asked hopefully. Von Düring clenched his jaw.

"I have to leave soon." And I hate myself for it.

"At least until I fall asleep?" Viktor pleaded with a heartbreaking tone.

"Yes, of course."

"Thank you," came out of Viktor's mouth, but then some memories of the past night came back to him again, and he added a muffled, embarrassed "'M so sorry".

"So am I. For so many things. We will talk again, Vitya. About everything that has happened between us, about everything that has happened to you. With Frau Steinmeier, together this time, and we will finally be able to leave it all to rest."

Viktor blinked slowly. He's so drugged already… Bernd thought, hoping to get some answer despite knowing there was a good chance Viktor wouldn't even remember they had this conversation.

"Promise?" The softly-spoken question melted von Düring's heart

"I promise. I have a scheduled summer leave from work soon. I will come and get you, Vitenka."

"Hmph. My baby Yuuri, too, and Yasha, and Zhora, and Yurochka, and Lila…" Von Düring was shaking his head at Viktor's blabbering. He had called Yakov "Yasha", something Viktor never did; was "Lila" supposed to be Mila…?

"Axel!" the loud exclamation startled von Düring out of his thoughts. "Alissa?" Viktor added, his voice faltering.

"She… Got badly hit. They're transporting her back to Saint Petersburg, but it will be long before she's fully operational again." That Viktor had called his Mercedes by her name was worrisome enough since he hardly ever did. Many people wouldn't even bother fixing their car in such a case, but simply replace it. Looking at Viktor's grief-stricken face, von Düring was already thinking who to task with making sure Alissa reached the local Mercedes repair store. He had lied, of course, he had had no time to think about the car. "In the meantime, I'll get you a temporary replacement, da?"

"Alissa!" Viktor whined.

"You'll have her back, I promise this, too." If this continues any longer, I'll probably end up promising the world to this neposlushnyy rebyonok!

"Я люблю тебя, Акселюша!" Viktor proclaimed in response, causing Bernd to burst out in laughter at the ridiculous "Axelyusha", wondering how Viktor could even speak when he was that far gone. His love declaration only confirmed that his brain was shut down, given his horrified reaction at Bernd's own love confession when Viktor was less drugged.

Only to confirm Bernd's theory, his friend's mood switched to its polar opposite in seconds. Viktor's eyes narrowed, and he spat out the Russian equivalent of "I hate you", his exact words being: "Нет! Я ненавижу тебя, ты плохой."

Oh, Vitya, come on, I'm not mocking you here, you're just charmingly delirious right now.

"Я очень люблю тебя, Витенка," von Düring countered with a broad smile, planting a kiss on Viktor's forehead. His declaration of hatred towards Bernd immediately forgotten, the skater hummed with satisfaction, looking like an otherworldly creature with his silver hair and the drug-induced twinkling of his bright eyes. He proceeded to close his eyes and snuggle into the blanket, like a good boy after his parents had kissed him goodnight.

Von Düring closed his eyes too and rubbed his temples. It was probably for the best for Viktor to sleep everything off; the German doubted he would be himself even without the sedatives.

As he opened his eyes, Viktor's were staring back at him, with desperation.

"Yuuri! I've hurt him so much, made him hate me!"

Now, this was sober Viktor talking. Sober Viktor who had been lurking somewhere inside Viktor's head, immobilized by the drugs, until his number one concern had pushed him to fight them. Of course, as sober as Viktor could be under the circumstances. He was more panicked Viktor than sober Viktor.

For von Düring, it had been so much easier with drugged Viktor. He could tell a drugged Viktor that he loved him, he could kiss a drugged Viktor, promise him that everything would be alright without having a clue whether it would.

Being usually awkward with physical affection, the German didn't even consider it a viable option anymore. Since he couldn't lie to sober Viktor either, he reluctantly let the bitter truth roll out of his mouth.

"He might forgive you if he truly loves you. It won't be easy, and you should have a solid reason for doing what you did, and…"

"What if he doesn't love me enough?" Viktor whispered, tears escaping his eyes. Von Düring noticed that his friend's eyelids had slid halfway again and that Viktor was struggling to keep them even halfway up.

"You give him up, keep your distance, probably do what you can for him, and move on." I am sorry, Vitya, I truly am.

"I'll relay this to my heart, that trouble-maker… I will give up, yes, for real…" Viktor was slurring his words. His eyes were a devastated grey, before briefly going bright and twinkly, before closing and staying shut.

Von Düring took to typing messages while making sure Viktor was finally asleep. First, to Viktor himself, a quick summary of the facts for his forgetful mind:

To Viktor Nikiforov: "You crashed into a stupid tree. Your car will be out of commission for a long while, so I'll be sending you a replacement. Please STAY in that hospital as LONG as possible. NO TRAINING FOR A WEEK AT LEAST! Call/write when you wake up. I wish I could stay with you longer."

Viktor's phone beeped. Good that someone of the emergency team picked it up from his car.

To Yakov Feltsman: "Viktor crashed into a tree. He is physically well but freaked out. Calling him will be of no use for the next couple of hours; he is on sleeping medication. He'll be released soon, but don't let him leave today because he will try to!
I don't know what this Lidia nonsense was all about, but do what you can to help Viktor smooth things out with Yuuri Katsuki. He's head over heels for him through and through.
I hope you are doing alright."

Bernd added the hospital's address and his name, in case Yakov had deleted his number (it wouldn't surprise him if he had). He looked over the message in German again before sending it.

After caressing Viktor's forehead and quickly smoothing out his hair, von Düring exited quickly. He didn't have much time left before his flight to Moscow, given that he had to be at the airport an hour earlier.

As he found himself at Pulkovo, sleep-deprived and barely presentably groomed, he wondered where his annoying secretary was supposed to be, to make his day even worse. Fortunately, he remembered sending her back to Germany on unpaid leave for spying on his personal life in a fit of anger after Viktor left the previous night. Less fortunate was the fact that she was good at her job (minus the spying), and his workload in Moscow would double without her.

Von Düring sighed in resignation, aimlessly looking at the people he would be caged with in a claustrophobically small rectangular cage floating hundreds of meters above ground for several hours… Ugly, ill-dressed, ill-mannered, too loud, too old, too young, too boring, too excitable…
He could find more than one bad quality about every single passenger. It was a good thing that he would be sitting in business class next to a blank seat.

At that moment, a tall, long-haired woman reading a book passed by him, earning points for being good-looking and probably intelligent. He followed her with his eyes in a hunt for hidden bad qualities when a realization struck him. The resemblance was uncanny.

"Everybody is traveling to Moscow early tomorrow," Viktor had mentioned.

Despite the significant number of flights to the different Moscow airports, here was said everybody, Lidia Alyona Davydova!

An evil smirk graced von Düring's face as he made his way to the woman.

"Excuse me for interrupting, but you must be the famous prima ballerina, Miss Davydova, right? I am a huge fan."

Narrowing down for being interrupted at first, her eyes lit up ever so slightly at being called "the famous prima ballerina", before beginning to carefully inspect the man who had spoken to her. Recognition shown in her eyes.

"Would you by any chance have a name, Mr. Huge Fan?" she inquired with an even tone, the not quite friendly way Bernd was looking at her not escaping her attention.

Seems like my reputation precedes me, Bernd thought, Lidia's unwelcoming tone duly noted.

"Bernd Axel von Düring, at your services," the German made a small bow and flashed a wide-toothed smile as cold as Lidia's blue eyes.

"I wouldn't be requiring them, thank you," Lidia said curtly, fainting going back to reading.

"Ah, but I wanted to invite you to sit next to me in business class since my secretary couldn't make it to the flight today."

"I don't know what class you think I'm traveling, and I am not even remotely interested in your offer."

"What If I told you I would love to discuss with you a mutual friend of ours, Viktor Nikiforov?"

"I would say that I don't talk about people behind their backs."

"Even if this statement is true, you misunderstand me. I'm not von Düring der Eisenkeiser taking an opportunity to harass Viktor Nikiforov's former girlfriend. You are talking to Bernd, Viktor's friend, who's simply wondering what sort of human-being would publicly destroy a person's relationship with the man he loves."

"Haha, see who's come to judge me, of all people. You really are full of yourself, von Düring, if you think you can just pop up here and swing accusations at me!" Von Düring's fiery words and blazing eyes had sufficed to convince Lidia that he had told the truth about being Viktor's friend, however bizarre the fact seemed to her. This didn't mean he had any right to talk to her in the offensive manner he just had.

"Oh, yes, I have every damned right to hold you accountable, because Viktor not only has probably ended up without a fiancé, he also ended up in a hospital after a car crash last night!" The German was aware that he couldn't put the blame about Viktor's self-destructive behavior on one person, but his desire to vent out his frustration on somebody prevailed. Lidia was evil. She had manipulated poor Vitya. That Viktor was a mess because of reasons he wouldn't share was way too arduous for Bernd to deal with.
In the meantime, the boarding for their flight had started, but several people were staring at the former skater and the prima ballerina, looking as if they were beginning to recognize them. Lidia eyed von Düring with a hardened expression.

"You'd better tone down a bit unless you want more gossip on Viktor's behalf in the press. Let's go inside, I might have reconsidered talking to you."
Despite Bernd's verbal lash-out, Lidia had briefly seemed genuinely concerned before she'd had the time to hide it. The German nodded, his face growing a little more serene, and walked side by side with the ballerina towards the boarding queue.

An argument with Viktor, followed by fear for Viktor's life, concluding with a sleepless night. It had been more than enough to try Bernd Axel von Düring's far from perfect self-control.

Now I've ended up owing Lidia Davidova an apology… Bernd sincerely hoped his day wouldn't get any worse.

...xXxXxXx…

5 days later, Viktor Nikiforov's apartment

"Whaaa, thick Russian site, I want that shirt, why isn't it available online?!" Yuuri Katsuki whined half-aware he sounded like a mixture of the insolent Russian Yuri and his lovely baby Vitya. Last season's childishly light-hearted Vitenka, of course. Yuuri bit his lip. Vityaaa xxxxxxxxxxxxx! his subconscious was lusting in another Eros-outburst, the unnerving side-effect of Yuuri Katsuki's forced lockdown on the entire section of his brain that proudly bore the starlight-silver inscription "✰VIKT❤R✰".

In an effort to quiet his obnoxious subconscious, he rubbed Makkachin who was spread out lazily in the skater's lap. Were he a cat, he would definitely be purring.

"Luis Vuitton, you are an asshole. Since you haven't got those shirts in stock, now I'll have to compensate with shoes. But we got loads of those already, isn't it right, Makka?"
Makkachin licked Yuuri's hand affectionately, making a low satisfied growl.

"Oh, I'm on board, old boy, the more, the better!"

Obuvyy, snikeryy, the Japanese clicked on the Russian words hastily.

"This can't be!"

He viewed hectically various sneaker models, eventually narrowing his choice down to three, and purchasing all of them.

"I just got the damnedest Eros sex sneakers on Earth!" Yuuri's soft pink lips parted in a dashing self-confident smile. He wasn't seductive awkward Katsudon anymore. He didn't need to play a female seductress either. He was something better. He was Katsuki Yuuri. And he was going to be Katsuki fucking Yuuri to the fullest.
This included finally obtaining the kind of clothing he had always admired but deemed too fancy, slim-fitting, or expensive for him. Things had changed. He was in top form.

He'd won a bunch of medals and sponsors. He deserved a treat for his diligence and perseverance.

His biggest treat was lying dead ahead though. A simple four-letter word.

GOLD.

Grand Prix, Four Continents, Olympics, Worlds GOLD. Quadruple fucking GOLD. The shiny yellow inscription glowed blindingly in Yuuri's mind, outshining the pale delicate ✰VIKT❤R✰ one. It was a matter of time until the silver letters were dismounted and replaced with the new, brighter ones.

Vityaaaaaaaaaa xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx, the young man's subconscious protested.

You'll get your Vitya in due time. Unless he backs down on the promise he made in front of Yuri Plisetsky, JJ, and Isabella. His loss if he does.

Yuuri got off the chair. Makkachin whimpered as he was unceremoniously placed on the floor.

Ignoring the poodle and the image of a golden-haired woman grabbing his Vitya and his Vitya kissing that woman back without wearing his engagement ring, Yuuri prodded towards the huge hi-fi in the very same Vitya's living room.

Noow, I rule the world. And the starry sky, spreading above, Jean-Jacques Leroy's voice sang gently.

Yuuri was doing his morning stretches to the "Theme of King JJ", the song he'd played on repeat for the last couple of days, after suddenly and inexplicably developing a likeness for it. He found it oddly comforting and inspiring, a stark contrast to how cocky and boastful it had appeared to him throughout the previous season.

I'll never give up even if the night should fall. If Yuuri was asked to choose his current slogan, this phrase would be it. No more gaining weight and falling in depression; a true champion doesn't let anything touch him and break his resolve. If he was ever to win gold, he had to stop allowing every miniature obstacle influence him so greatly.

Letting his entire existence revolve around Viktor was wrong and would only lead him to ruin. Viktor showed no signs of appreciating this creepy obsession on Yuuri's part either. As little Yurio, of all people, had rubbed it into the Japanese's face – the best he could do with his life was to have a decent career. If Viktor was interested, he would be his bonus prize for winning the 2017 Grand Prix Final. If not… Well, being the champion and dressing bad-ass would surely land Yuuri somebody to soften the blow with so that he could go on winning.

Reverse that, he didn't need anybody to sustain him emotionally. He would simply finally have some fun after the Final; being a 24-year-old virgin was dull and embarrassing, to say the least.

Vityaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx !

When will you shut the hell up?!

Yuuri hit the "stop" button on the hi-fi harsher than needed, letting out a sigh of frustration. JJ was of no use when his uncontrollable subconscious was in this state. He had to pour his lingering soapy and shamelessly horny emotions into something else, and luckily, he had a very effective something planned later. He selected another song to complete his stretches with.

See the mirror in your eyes
See the truth behind the lies

That was a significantly better release given his current state of mind.
Your eyes are haunting me.

Viktor's enticing ethereal eyes flashed right before Yuuri. You are killing me, Nikiforov.

Falling in and out of love, was coming from the hi-fi, making clear what Yuuri had to do.

He would fall out of love. Eventually. Maybe even if Viktor agreed to be his in December, Yuuri wouldn't even want him anymore. It would be better for his emotional and physical health, no doubt about it.

Soon after Yuuri was finished, someone rang the doorbell to Viktor's apartment. As the Japanese opened, a delivery man shoved a large parcel in his hands.

"The rest is for you, too, gospodin Katsuki," the man said, gesturing at the five huge cartons on his trolley.

Right…

2 x Burberry, 1 x Armani, 1 x Gucci… And Hilfiger + Levi's to save some money. But the 31 629,99- ruble receipt inside the Hilfiger packet told a different story. The TH clothes' dollar value of just 560,80, while sounding significantly less disturbing than their ruble one, was still more than steep compared to Yuuri's usual clothing standards. Hadn't he been careful to mostly pick items on sale, his shopping spree would have been an even greater financial disaster.

It's a business investment, Yuuri reassured himself as he slipped a brand-new pair of ripped skinny jeans. If the right people catch sight of me in such clothes throughout the new season, I might land a top fashion brand as a sponsor.

While walking towards a beauty salon in an outfit that oozed much more Eros than originally intended, a much different take on his wardrobe renewal surfaced from someplace else in his head.

I can be fucking sexier than any woman with 1-meter-long legs, golden hair, and plush lips!

...xXxXxXx…

"You are jealous," Georgi observed eyeing his friend's tight outfit and smelling the provocative perfume he was wearing.

"What? No, I'm not."

"Reeeaally?"

"You have to be in a relationship with somebody to get jealous."

"Not necessarily."

"Do I need a reason to dress well? Or is it because I'm nerdy, awkward Yuuri Katsuki that I'm not allowed to finally look good on a daily basis?"

Georgi's expression got pained, but as he was about to answer, the door to the ice rink's male dressing room swung open to reveal a smirking Mila.

"Hellooo, boys!"

"No one naked? What a shame!" she pouted immediately afterward. "I take my words back, this is even better! Yuuuuri, you're tempting anyone to tear your clothes apart. Revisiting your Eros, are you?" Mila gushed after taking a closer look at the two friends.

"Hm, if you look like that during the day, I wonder how you'd look if I took you on a late-night date," the young woman winked flirtatiously.

Yuuri's face went through several shades of red until it settled on scarlet.

"Ah, Zhora, you can't compete with him even with your V-neck tank top. Thanks for helping me out with training, though." She planted a kiss on Georgi's cheek. "See ya, hotshots."

Georgi chuckled at Yuuri.

"Good to see there is something of Yuuri Katsuki left inside this diva package."

"Did she just barge in the men's dressing room?"

"Ah, she has a habit of doing that. It all started when Yakov sent her to drag me out of here for a competition right after Nadya broke up with me. She took it as a permanent permit to enter the men's dressing room."

"Uhh, does that mean…?"

"Yeah, she's seen everybody in underwear, really. After the little blonde devil fell victim, he decided to even the score and stormed in the female dressing room one day. He ran from it shrieking; he'd seen Mila in underwear, taking her bra off, I believe." Georgi made a pause to clear his throat

"How is he still alive?" Yuuri asked bluntly, memories of the tale how Mila's ex-boyfriend had ended up in a hospital for cheating still vivid in his mind. The hockey player's family had even wanted him to press charges, but he'd been too embarrassed to. He'd probably deserved it anyway, Yuuri thought darkly.

Georgi chuckled, oblivious to the grim turn Yuuri's thoughts had taken.

"Yurio was a 12-year-old kid and couldn't even look Mila in the eye for days. She didn't stop making fun of him for months because of it, she still does sometimes."

"How come she hasn't caught anyone naked yet?" Like me, for example?!

"We just avoid showering here," Georgi laughed. "Ah, but we have the key to the door hidden in locker 13 over there, so normally we lock if we shower."

"Why the hell do I find out about this now?!"

"Aahaha, Yuri Plisetsky hasn't told you on purpose, that's for certain. As for Viktor… He enjoys displaying his naked ass. He never locks when showering and never even gets a towel to cover himself with when walking to and fro the showers. That's how poor Mila found him one time."

Seriously, poor Mila?! I wish he still did that, Georgi, because he hasn't since I've arrived… Yuuri thought wistfully.

"Well, that's about how I saw him in Hasetsu for the first time, too. He was soaking in a pool at the onsen, and I just had to run over there to make sure it was really him. When he saw me, he simply stood up to greet me."

"I didn't know that was Viktor's way of getting boyfriends."

"Naah, that's just his way of getting students," Yuuri amended.

"So, you just couldn't refuse such coaching professionalism..?" Georgi raised an eyebrow.

"Of course not, you refuse a naked Viktor Nikiforov!" Yuuri exclaimed loudly, his cheeks reddening again. ❤ Naked Vitya ❤ was taking Yuuri's mind by storm, while Damn, I'm beyond all hope! was twirling in the still unaffected spaces.

In the meantime, Georgi wrinkled his face in a disgusted grimace, thinking that the only thing he'd do to a naked SSZ would be to shove it in a room and not let it out until it put some damned clothes on.

"What about naked Vitya? I want to hear, too!" a deep voice suddenly demanded to know from the direction of the dressing room's entrance.

For a second, Yuuri was convinced Yakov Feltsman had just read his mind and viewed all the scarcely clothed Viktor photos it was stuffed with at the moment, before remembering what he had been talking about with Georgi. This barely dispersed his embarrassment.

Fortunately, Georgi cried out loud Yakov's name and wrapped his momentarily stunned coach in a bear embrace. After a good while, the older man said as tactfully as he could,

"Ahem, Zhora, don't be such a child, let me go already."

"You're alive!" Georgi rejoiced in answer, not granting the request.

"Of course I'm alive, you glupyy zaychik you! Did you think you'd get rid of the Terminator Coach this easily, hmm? That I'd just vanish, and you'd be free to overeat on Stroganoff all you want?"

Georgi laughed, finally releasing Yakov, whose eyes glinted with a light Yuuri was uncertain he had ever seen there. Hm, maybe when Yurio won the Grand Prix Final…

"So, you're back full-time, right?" Georgi made sure to ask while he had the opportunity.
Yakov furrowed his brow, his face gaining its usual unwelcoming expression. Perhaps even a tad more hostile.

"I can't say for certain. But am I to be absent on a given day, I'll do my best to arrange training sessions for all of you with Maxim. He has time on his hands now that an ice dance pair of his has retired."

Yuuri had no idea who Maxim was supposed to be, but his dirty subconscious immediately came up with a magazine of the same name with naked women on the cover. I'm going crazy. For real.

"But Yakov…" Georgi started meanwhile, displeased with the news his coach had just brought him.

"Zhora, I'm sorry, if this wasn't important, I'd never mess with my students' training schedules. I am sorry for the called off sessions and for disappearing like that, too. However, what's going on right now is my own problem, and I'm not getting anyone else involved. Your concern is to prepare your 28-year-old ass for the new season."

Georgi furrowed his brow, his feelings hurt. Why wouldn't you tell me what's going on, Coach?

Yakov's reaction to this was rather unexpected for the skater. The older man narrowed his eyes, angry flames dancing within their blue depths.

"Speaking of which… I'm gone for several days, and all hell breaks loose! Vitya's…" A small uneasy pause followed, "…wrecked his silly million-dollar car; the blonde devil has moved out of his father's and is off to Kazakhstan; Mila's off to God-knows-where with some tattooed smoking garbage man, and you two are here discussing naked Vitya when you should have started training 15 minutes ago!"

Wrecked? Yuuri was aware that Viktor's car was at a repair's store, but "wrecked" was a rather strong word. But Georgi beat him to speaking up with a question of his own:

"What was that about Mila?"

"Just as I arrived that careless girl was getting in the car of some ugly delinquent by the looks of him. She saw me, waved, giggling like some 5-year-old baby girl, and made that moron take off before I could do anything!"

"So, here's the reason behind her flirty mood today."

"Uh, shouldn't it have been reserved for the tattooed smoking guy?"

"Haha, if the two of us got that much, imagine what a load of it that delinquent-like type will be up against." Noting Yakov's dangerous scowl, Georgi added, "Ah, you know she can handle herself, Coach, there's no need to worry. She beats up huge hockey players, for Christ's sake, while I get screwed over by petite innocent-looking ice dancers!"

"Yes, Georgi, I am well aware of this. But it doesn't mean that wasting her time and energy on losers is a good thing for Mila. Seriously, Katsuki, of all the people my students have gotten involved with, you're the only decent one. Huh, who would have thought Vitya would be the first to get an adequate boyfriend."

The hell, I am not your Vitya's boyfriend, have you watched the news recently, Feltsman?!

VIIIKTR

Yakov actually approves of me? And he called me Viktor's boyfriend?

A myriad of contradicting voices was overloading Yuuri's mind. Why would Yakov Feltsman say any of this after Lidia appeared out of nowhere to sweep Viktor away? It was too late for such words. Only days ago they would have fuelled Yuuri's confidence and given him hope, but all they actually served to do was to rub salt into a fresh wound.

"Uh, Coach, we're thrilled that you came." Georgi's voice betrayed his uncertainty – both Yuuri and Yakov had distant and troubled looks on their faces, and he had little clue how to act.

The young man's voice brought Yakov back to the dressing room. The coach cleared his throat.

"How couldn't I? You rarely go against my advice, Georgi. I had in mind to stalk the two of you from the balcony before coming down to tell you what an awful skate you've made, but after no one showed up for fifteen minutes, it seems I got myself a front-row ticket for the grand finalization of your new short program, Zhora. We'll see what it's worth, but you'd better goddamned hurry up here and save naked Vitya for later!"

Yakov's footsteps echoed in the corridor while Georgi grinned at a frowny flushed Yuuri.

...xXxXxXx…

Georgi and Yuuri exited a spread eagle simultaneously, then fell into a series of spins, their bodies bending gracefully to the music as each of them did his best to banish his residual love and heartache.

Let it fade away, a female voice sang beautifully. They ended the skate looking away from each other, stretching a hand in a shooing gesture.

Yakov skated towards them with approval in his eyes. He had watched their progress silently and was eager to give his opinion on the finished product.

"You have done well, boys, better than I expected. There is plenty of room for improvement, of course, Zhora, we want you to retire with gold, after all. But I am impressed, honestly. The synchronization between you was ridiculously good for a week; I am almost tempted to make you enter pair skating," Yakov laughed mirthfully. One good thing had been accomplished while he had been away from the rink. It was enough to fill him with hope that everything else would somehow fall into place.

"Hm, I have to admit that skating with Yuuri is fun. What a shame that I'm too old to switch disciplines!" Georgi patted his friend on the back with a grin. The Japanese smiled back with much more restraint. His mind was visibly occupied with something other than the conversation at hand.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to show you my free skate, Coach Feltsman."

The polite formulation was negated by Yuuri's exacting tone. Yakov lifted an eyebrow at the unusual combination.

"Sparing ten minutes is hardly a bother, I believe," the coach answered while struggling to piece out the reasons behind Katsuki's sudden behavioral change. Had it been anyone else talking commandingly at him, they would have already been put in their place.

Georgi was no less baffled than his coach, so when Yakov shot him a quizzical glance, he could only shrug and wonder whether his presence was welcomed or not. Figure skaters could become very touchy when it came to revealing their programs to competitors before the start of the season.

"You can stay if you want, Georgi," Yuuri said as if having read the other skater's mind. The Russian nodded and decided to make himself useful by turning the music on since Yuuri had already selected the track he needed and taken up position on the ice.

...xXxXxXx…

"Gori, Gori Moya Zvezda" was playing, and for the first time, Yuuri wasn't swept away by crippling sadness or selfless love and devotion. He felt comfortably detached – his reward for investing his troublesome emotions in Georgi's skate to "In and out of love". His head clear, he jumped and spun with meticulous precision, that of a would-be world figure skating champion.

The music was still playing as he finished.

"I don't have the ending figured out yet," he clarified for Yakov and Georgi. Because you still haven't put an end to your one-sided love story. Just how long will you dwell in this insufferable limbo? Yuuri jerked uneasily, cursing himself for it. Even when he was as void of emotion as he could bring himself to be, something still tied him to Viktor Nikiforov.

"So, what do you think?" the Japanese continued, refusing to let his discovery unnerve him any further. Falling out of love would take its time, nothing new under the sun.

Yakov's expression was one of sadness and regret. He managed a half-hearted smile which had Yuuri frowning.

"A great many would be envious of the skill and determination you just conveyed. But there was no love, not in a single one of your movements; your performance was stripped of it, painfully so. That is something a program to "Gori, Gori, Moya Zvezda" can't survive without."

Yuuri narrowed his eyes.

"Songs can be interpreted in a number of ways. This is how I feel about the piece."

Yakov simply shook his head. There had been barely any trace of feelings in the way the Japanese had skated. The older man stubbornly refused to consider the implications of the fact. Viktor was a sore loser, and his emotions were already all over the place. How long could he stand watching Yuuri Katsuki skate this way to this love song?

"Viktor must have told you already that "Gori, Gori Moya Zvezda" is too beloved a Russian romance to experiment with. There's no need to take unnecessary risks; just find a more upbeat piece you can adapt your choreography to."

For a moment, Yuuri was about to snap at Yakov. He had fought for "Gori, Gori Moya Zvezda"; he had developed a program on it all on his own, he wasn't going to drop the song simply because Yakov Feltsman told him to!

Except that the legendary coach was right. Insisting on "Gori, Gori Moya Zvezda" could jeopardize his season unless he was willing to torture himself back into heartbroken Viktor-worshipping idiot mode. Which, of course, he was not. It would probably disrupt his newfound ease of executing the technical elements, anyway, and shatter his fledgling self-confidence.

"I might be able to bring more feeling into my performance." Without reverting back to being pathetic. "But if I fail, I'll take you up on your advice."

Yakov nodded, squaring his jaw. "Fair enough." There may be hope for you still, Vitya… But is it big enough?

Yakov cleared his throat, effectively ending this line of thought. "Right. I'll get going then." However, he halted just as he was about to turn to leave.

"Ah, Katsuki? In case you need any help or a professional opinion in the future, just ask. I know I don't strike as a welcoming person, but that's how I am, nothing personal. So, don't let this discourage you."

Yakov Feltsman, saying kind words with about two months' delay again. Why the sudden change of heart?

Yuuri nodded wordlessly. Yakov's departure was what finally made Georgi stir. He had watched his friend's skate silently, face sullen, and stayed deep in thought throughout Yuuri's exchange with Yakov. Noticing the change in him, the Japanese wondered:

"So, was I really so bad that you wouldn't even comment on my performance?"

"What?! No, just… I agree with the Coach. You skated to a Russian romance without a hint of romantic feelings. The program will work only if you and Viktor make up."

Yuuri eyed Georgi coolly. "No need for such dramatic statements. I'll have picked a new song long before I'll have had to rely on Viktor Nikiforov to swear his undying love for me. And if you have any respect for me, you will refrain from similar commentary in the future."

Georgi averted his gaze. "No dose of "In and out of Love" can cure my romantic soul it seems. I'm sorry, I just… I'm just sorry for the way things developed for Viktor and you. But don't mind such an irredeemable sucker for romance as me; it'll all turn out fine for you, Yuuri, you are on top of your game when it comes to technical execution, and your Eutychia kicks ass."

"Oh, I will make it turn out fine. And so will you, just don't get your hopes too high up, I still intend to snatch all the gold medals."

Georgi smiled. "That's the spirit. I'll go get us something to snack on from the fridge, OK? Better have something before we go on that shopping therapy we planned."

Yuuri nodded. Georgi slipped out of the rink grateful for the excuse he found to get some time alone and gather his thoughts. He was hungry alright, but his emotional state was what bothered him infinitely more. Or, more precisely - his bottled up frustration at the hopeless state of Yuuri's and Viktor's relationship. Both refused to talk through their issues. It was a matter of time until the fragile thing deteriorated to the point of no return.

Georgi had confronted Viktor and gotten no answers. He scowled while rummaging through the refrigerator. It had been a fool's errand to think that Viktor would share anything with him after so many years of mounting estrangement between them. What irked Georgi to no end, however, was the fact that his brother looked more and more like a shadow of himself and instead of fighting for his love, he was giving it all up despite it being painstakingly obvious this was fucking him up in every possible way.

What the heck is the matter with that SSZ?! Georgi nearly asked aloud.

The common room wasn't more eloquent than Viktor Nikiforov himself. Georgi finished the sandwiches he was preparing with a long sigh. Getting wound up was pointless. The best he could do was be there for the one half of the dysfunctional couple that allowed him to.

Yuuri Katsuki. While at first glance he didn't seem to suffer like Viktor did, the cold demeanor he was developing was unsettling. Georgi was clueless how to react given that the phenomenon improved Yuuri's skating to some extent. Still, it was hindering his connection with his emotions... Which was probably the point?

Georgi shook his head in confusion and entered the rink where he was greeted by the sight of Yuuri Katsuki skating to the "Theme of King JJ". He wasn't surprised. It was all Yuuri listened to these days; the Russian had even caught him doing parts of JJ's program already. Somehow, it's helping him cope with the situation, Georgi believed. He found it irritating that it had to be Jean-Jacques song; the amount of publicity the Canadian skater's recently published biography was gathering was ridiculous enough. What hidden depth Yuuri found in the "Theme of King JJ" was beyond Georgi.

This was of little relevance in the current moment, however. Yuuri looked the epitome of confidence while executing JJ's highly difficult short program. He wasn't doing an exact copy because he hadn't had the time to learn it that well. For Georgi, Yuuri's spontaneous improvisations were adding more value to the performance. He gave a fair share of applause when his friend was finished.

"Imagine JJ's face when he sees you can skate his short program better," Georgi grinned while accessing the recording of the cameras inside the rink and cutting the last 3 minutes. Time to shock the Internet community with another Katsuki YouTube video. It had been about a year since "Stammi Vicino" after all; why not mark the anniversary with another YouTube sensation?

"Georgi, what are you doing?" Yuuri asked dreadfully while struggling to remove his skates as fast as possible and hinder the smug Russian from doing anything stupid. When he finally reached his friend, Georgi showed him a YouTube page with the footage and the added description. He was a click away from posting it.

"Don't!" Yuuri warned. He wasn't sure how good his performance had been, and he was uncertain whether he wanted the attention even if it had been stellar.

"Why not? You were perfect, my dear. I say let the competition sweat the whole summer before the start of the season." God, I'm probably only making his recently inflated ego worse right now. Still, it's Yuuri we're talking about. Despite it all, he might still use some public acclaim; it might actually calm him down.

"You know what? Go ahead," Yuuri agreed, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Georgi's opinion could be trusted; he wouldn't upload the video if it wasn't good enough. The Japanese was also intrigued to find out what the public reaction would be. His lingering insecurity be damned. He could deal with the attention!

Georgi pressed enter.

"Let's switch our mobiles off and check what's happened with the video after the shopping tour? We won't get interrupted during the afternoon, and we'll have plenty of entertainment for dinner."

"Deal."

...xXxXxXx…

Several hours later in a local shopping center, Yuuri waltzed out of a shop, looking incredibly proud of himself. On his tail was a grumpy Georgi, dragging several bags of clothes and muttering insults.

"I told you already, Georgi, the opinion of foolish rabbits doesn't count. Yes, I do need three more new shirts."

"I didn't agree to this to watch you throw your money away and carry the endless shit you buy; I only wanted to cheer you up," Georgi grumbled.

"Well, the shopping is cheering me up," Yuuri flashed a naughty smile. "How did Yakov end up calling you "glupyy zaychik" anyway?"

"Ah, well... He came to the local rink one day to search for new students. I was eight at the time and pretty much obsessed with Lutzes. I'd recently picked up the jump, so I'd go to the rink and do Lutzes for hours. Apparently, I also thought it a good idea to try jumping triple and even quadruple ones."

"Quads at 8?" Yuuri threw his friend an incredulous glance.

"I know; I was an idiot - I could barely do triples, trying quads was suicidal. So, after a quad gone horribly wrong, someone picked me up and carried me out of rink while giving me a thorough dressing down about foolish baby rabbits trying too hard for their own good. I was too embarrassed to dare look at the man, but I had no choice when he sat down, depositing me on his lap. Well, then I saw the man happened to be the former East Germany figure skating champion, Yakov Feltsman, and I bet I stared at him with my mouth hanging open. He proceeded to say that foolish rabbits like me needed strict coaches and that he could use somebody with my skill and determination."

"Aand what did you say to that?" Yuuri asked with a smile. This turned out to be quite the endearing story.

"I... hugged him. Heaven knows how long I clung to him."

Yuuri burst into laughter. "Yes, fine, I am the clingy type, everybody knows that," Georgi acquiesced.

"Naah, you're too cute, Georgi!" Yuuri said between laughs. "I just wish I could see Yakov's face, it must have been hilarious! It sort-of was during today's hugging session; imagine his surprise back then."

"Humph, the Coach likes to claim that hugs aren't his thing, but excuse me if I have my doubts about it. He endures them surprisingly well for somebody who dislikes them. And in emotional moments, he tends to grab you and throw you in the air if you're a kid, or hug you to death if you're too big to carry around."

Yakov, carrying Yurio after he won the Grand Prix gold flashes in Yuuri's mind. Followed by the traditional bear embrace he shares with Viktor after every gold won.

"Hey, wait a minute, you asked after my nickname's story only to get me to stop complaining about your crazy shopping spree!"

Yuuri didn't even have the decency to look sheepish.

"Ah, not quite. I figured the story might be worth hearing, but what was definitely worth it was shutting up your boring rant, so I took a chance."

"Blunt, aren't you?" Georgi sneered. "I am not going shopping with you ever again!"

"Fine, just don't spoil the mood again!"

An uncomfortable silence followed that Yuuri hurried to break. "How did Yakov even agree to compete for Germany instead of Russia? He's crazy about Russia; it makes no sense."

"Ah, you haven't read much about him, have you? It's all on the Internet. He was born in East Berlin to a Russian mother and a German father of German-Russian descent. He wasn't even a citizen of the USSR. Initially, he had no qualms about competing for East Germany, but they made him into a propaganda tool. With West Germany having no shining skaters at the time, his every win was supposed to represent the idea that the Soviet State was the better system. They wouldn't let him leave the country to the very end - 1990, when he was near retirement. So, he just skated for two more years for Germany before moving to Russia to take up coaching."

Yuuri wasn't feeling either sympathetic or understanding. The facts about Yakov Feltsman Georgi presented were contradictory, and he would very well point it out.

"I still don't get it. In East Germany, they used him to further the Soviet agenda. If he liked Russia, why was he so much against the whole thing? And, in the end, he continued skating for Germany when he could have done two years for Russia. That's rather controversial."

Georgi eyeballed Yuuri as if he'd just killed a man in cold blood right in front of him.

"God, you sound exactly like everybody else. They never understand. The USSR and Russia aren't the same thing. That Yakov loved Russia back in Soviet times doesn't mean he's fond of near-totalitarian regimes. He's just always felt more Russian than German, and he is - his parents combined have more of a Russian heritage than German. About the last two years of his career - he finally wasn't being used as a tool for a police state, and it probably was too much hustle to transfer to Russia, get a new coach and all just for two years. He can't have been sure if he'd last as an active skater for more than one season, either. Not to mention that Russia was pretty much in disarray in the early 90ies."

This was getting too complicated too fast for Yuuri's liking. He didn't feel like involving himself in political discussions about communism with a Russian. Or basically, anybody whose country had been significantly affected by the Cold War. He was neither well-read on the topic, nor had Japan been much of a Cold War underdog, so he decided against speaking up lest he offended Georgi. He wouldn't let his attitude cost him his friend.

They walked in silence until a commotion to their right caught both their attention. In front of the mall's play center, there was a couple of bickering children while inside there were many more, caught in various activities. The children's clothing looked old and worn while they themselves were rather on the skinny side. A few kept to the corners, shyly eschewing everyone else or staring blankly into the distance, refusing to interact with the environment.

At a secluded table next to a painting little girl was sitting none other than Viktor Nikiforov, his figure and hair unmistakable. Yuuri began walking away the moment he spotted him.

"What? You won't even stop to greet him?" Georgi's eyes were narrowed. "Well, I will."

The Russian skater turned on his heel, not waiting for an answer on Yuuri's part. As he entered, he was met by an excited group of children, shouting "Zhora!".

"Hello, babies, it's good to see you!" Before he'd had the time to say this, he was assaulted by numerous questions and invitations to join the children in their activities.

"I'm sorry to say that I'm not bringing you any presents this time; the bags I'm carrying are filled with boring grown-ups stuff. Buut, I'd love to stay for a couple of games of whatever you want me to play with you."

Disappointment was soon replaced by cheers, and Georgi smiled warmly. He would have come prepared had he known that Viktor had taken the children for a city trip, and stopped at the mall.

Speaking of Viktor, he had risen from his place and was looking appreciatively at Georgi. His friend gathered him in a hug that Viktor welcomed until his eyes settled on Yuuri standing by the entrance. As his body abruptly stiffened, Georgi guessed the reason why.

"We went shopping together and saw you here with the children."

"Tell me you haven't..."

"No, I haven't said a word about anything. Look, I'll distract the kids, you talk to him!"

Georgi broke the embrace and was met with Viktor's distraught gaze. He wouldn't be nearly as afraid to talk to a three-headed monster, Georgi noted with a shake of his head.

"Alright, children, what do you say we start with bowling first?" Some of the younger children protested, but the older ones approved. Nonetheless, all headed for the bowling grounds.

"Ali, you coming?" Georgi crouched in front of the girl that had sat next to Viktor. She jumped in her place at the sudden attention and clung to Viktor.

"It's alright, love, you can go with Zhora now. We'll finish the painting later," he reassured her. She only gripped him tighter.

"Hm, I believe we won't have much progress here. Go bowling." Viktor smiled wanly, and Georgi let himself get dragged away by several impatient 13-year-olds.

Yuuri reluctantly came closer when Viktor was left alone with the little girl.

"Ali, look, this is Yuuri from Japan, a country far away from here. He lives on a lovely island and can go the seaside every day, imagine that?"

The girl looked up with caution, large shimmering hazel eyes inspecting the strange newcomer.

"Здравствуй," Yuuri greeted careful not to frighten the child away. He stretched out a hand and Ali, after a nudge from Viktor, tentatively shook it.

"Hm, he doesn't speak Russian, you know. So, besides some basic words, he won't even understand you. We can gossip about him, and he won't catch a word of what we're saying!" Viktor forced an impish grin on his face.

"But that's not very nice, Vitya!"

Viktor sighed. "You are right, it's not. How about we sit down again? You can finish the painting, and I can talk to Yuuri for a while. We'll be talking in English, but no worries, just poke me if you need help or are wondering what we are discussing."

The girl looked uncertain.

"I promise we won't be talking about you. And I will be sitting right next to you, da?"

Ali nodded. The three took places around the table. The girl immediately took to painting while an uncomfortable silence started stretching between Viktor and Yuuri.

"So, uh, Zhora says you went shopping together. That's good."

Yuuri raised an eyebrow at Viktor's awkward attempt at starting a conversation.

"You canceled today's training session, and I had time on my hands." Apparently, you think it more important to spend time with these children, whoever they are, than prepare your student for the new season.

Viktor's face blanched as if he'd actually heard Yuuri's thoughts.

"I... I'm sorry; I needed some to myself..."

Yuuri struggled to keep a straight face. Time to yourself? You're never at home with me! Ah, wait, this probably includes the people he parties with at night. Got tired of them too, eh, Vitya? At least I'm not the only one.

"It's a funny thing how these children probably help me more than I help them." Viktor was looking out the window, his gaze distant.

What the kriff was that supposed to mean? Who were the children? What was Viktor even doing here? Yuuri had run out of patience, but if he bombarded Viktor with all those questions, he had a feeling he would shrink into himself. Needless to say, the Japanese would also appear disgustingly attached to Viktor, nosy, jealous, and whatnot if he started holding the man accountable for how he chose to spend his time. He was definitely done abasing himself on Viktor Nikiforov's account.

The uneasy silence returned with a vengeance. The constant sound of crayons connecting with paper wasn't helping disperse the build-up pressure; it made it worse. Viktor fidgeted in his chair.

"How was the shopping?" came out of his mouth unbidden. He had to say something; he would implode otherwise.

Yuuri had to stifle his laughter again. Just how freaking ridiculous was this conversation about to become?

So, how was the shopping? As fulfilling as it could be. Buying clothes you don't need to fill a void you can't stand. A distraction, not a solution. Only time can solve my problem. A couple more appearances at Pasha's show might speed up the process, though.

Viktor's fidgeting had gotten worse. Oh, he'd probably expected an answer. Sorry to disappoint; you'll have to do better if you want to get me to talk to you, dear.

Viktor's phone vibrated, positively startling him. He clumsily got it out of his pocket only to drop it to the ground thanks to his not quite steady hands.

As he lifted it from the floor with no visible damage to it and unlocked it again, it vibrated several times more. Viktor blinked at the display, then quickly pocketed the phone back.

"What was that about?" Viktor shifted in his place, surprised Yuuri would take the initiative to break the silence. Unfortunately, he had no idea what Chris' messages meant. What connection was there supposed to be between Yuuri, JJ, and JJ's short program from last year? And JJ had a published book? Did Chris expect him to know anything about it? Hm, perhaps it was something he should have heard about and probably had, but excuse Viktor if JJ's book was the last thing that concerned him and had therefore been timely deleted from his memory.

"Ah, it was nothing," Viktor replied with a significant delay, shaking his head. Chris had attached some YouTube video; maybe it had all the answers. He'd watch it later. But whatever it was, it couldn't be important. People were bothering him unusually much this afternoon; he was rightfully annoyed. He'd been too busy with the children to read any messages, and put his phone on silent mode.

Meanwhile, Yuuri's gaze had grown cold. But of course it was nothing. Nothing you'd tell me. Yuuri glanced at Viktor and saw a stranger. He neither knew his family nor his friends. He could only guess what he did in his free time. He didn't even have the faintest idea what was happening inside the man's head.

He'd fallen in love with a stranger; he'd been no better than a teenager obsessing over his celeb crush and said crush's fictional feelings for him. That was how low he'd gotten; he wondered how Yurio hadn't been meaner to him.

Viktor never shared a thing with him and why the hell would he? First, it was Lidia, now it was children, well, the children at least Yuuri could live with, but what would it be next? He was furious and he didn't know whether he was madder at Viktor or at himself. Probably at himself. He should have seen it all coming.

"You know that Lidia dropped by last Saturday evening; after the Ice Palace training? She was looking for you; I totally forgot to tell you." Lie. "Did she phone you afterward? It was a shame she missed you with her flight being early next morning; you might not get to see each other for a while."

Yuuri could only admire his inexplicable acting prowess. He was a terrible liar; the charade he'd just put up was a true masterpiece, something he'd never done before.

Viktor was gawking at him.

"Yuuri... Lidia and I..."

God, Gorgeous Vicky, you look like you're about to die. You're fucking the ballerina; that's not a crime.

"No worries, I saw Pasha's show. There's no need to explain."

Viktor breathed hard.

"Yuuri. There's nothing between Lidia and me. Nothing," Viktor's sky blue eyes were fixed on Yuuri's, imploring the person he loved to believe him. Yuuri was frowning. His expression was hostile. You could have at least had the decency not to lie to me. Why are you doing this, anyway?

Viktor's last bet was to explain the motivation behind his actions. He had a nagging suspicion it might distance Yuuri even further, but he had to take the risk.

"We were a popular couple years ago, so we made an ambiguous appearance on TV, and let the yellow press get crazy with it. Publicity of any kind is important for Lidia's career. And it usually translates into more money, which I can use, too." Viktor had covered his eyes with a hand, unable to meet Yuuri's gaze.

This time, Yuuri let his laughter run free. It wasn't cold, mocking, or hysterical, but utterly genuine. He was laughing at himself. At his petty jealousy, at how the world had seemed to end because Viktor had kissed somebody that wasn't him. He laughed harder than he had in months. Because obviously, he had been a much greater fool than he had presumed. All the drama had been for nothing. Yuuri had dismissed everyone who thought the truth behind the kiss could be much different from what it looked like.

The Japanese was shaking with laughter. Viktor and the little girl were watching him oddly. Hm, his behavior was probably getting too weird; he tried to stifle his laughter while rationalizing everything again.

Viktor was the ultimate unknown variable. Yuuri was the ultimate blind fool in love with an idolized version of whoever Viktor Nikiforov was. Viktor hadn't cared to mention that he wasn't in love with Lidia probably because it should have been self-evident to anyone who knew him. Except Yuuri didn't and was the most paranoid man in town. Well, Viktor wasn't to blame for that. Also, while he held little romantic interest in him, he'd never been deliberately cruel to him. He might have even meant to tell him... Before he... forgot to?

Yuuri's laughter made a comeback. His world had ended most probably because he wasn't important enough for Viktor to remember he needed to be warned about his little scheme on Pasha's show! Yes, Viktor didn't love Lidia, at least that offered some comfort. But the whole incident was a testimony to the fact that he didn't love Yuuri either. So, heaven knows what would turn out to be the reason behind Viktor's wedding talk. A mere manipulation that had to give Yuuri the motivation to win? What if his "just Viktor" had been Viktor playing his lover?

The chilling thought shut the young man up. In the blink of an eye, he wasn't sure any part of him wanted to get to know the true Viktor Nikiforov anymore.

Suddenly, burying his love seemed, albeit hard, entirely manageable. First, of course, he would be returning half the clothes he bought recently. There would be no void in his heart to try to cover up with bags of clothes soon enough. It would be good not to have gone broke by then.

"Yuuri? Are you alright?"

The Japanese shook his head. He was still in his chair. Viktor was holding the girl now and still watching him with mute concern and... fear? Yuuri shrugged; he probably wasn't reading him correctly anyway. If he was so concerned, he'd have been the one to ask why he had been laughing like a maniac.

Georgi was the man who had. He had also somehow materialized in the room out of nowhere.

"It's all good, Zhora," Yuuri grinned. "Will it be too much of a bother if we revisited some shops to return a thing or two?"

Georgi blinked in surprise. "I really wish I could be cross with you right now," he smiled. "But I guess it's better to get your wits back late than never."

"Dinner is on me," Yuuri promised appeasingly.

"Good. I have to say "Bye" to the kids though. Be right back," Georgi took off quickly, sensing something unspoken between Viktor and Yuuri. More like a pile of unspoken stuff, he mused.

I've been an insensitive bastard for days. But somehow, the wrong people were my primary victims when it should have been Gorgeous Vicky. Maybe I should remedy this?

Yuuri arched a hand sideways in a seemingly absent-minded gesture. Due to how close their chairs were, said hand ended up caressing Viktor's thigh, and, to Yuuri's triumph, partially his crotch as well.

He hastily removed his hand, trying to appear surprised and apologetic.

"Sorry, I was just trying to get my jacket from the back of the chair." He didn't sound convincing to his own ears. Viktor's eyes were wide, shocked, and if Yuuri dared say - longing. He didn't appear to have registered the made-up explanation at all.

Yuuri stood up and grabbed his jacket, looking at anything but Viktor. He had his suspicions confirmed - there was a tiny little something here, something physical. Viktor was definitely bisexual. Something he held secret. Because it might decrease his public appeal? Because he was Russian? Ah, so he probably hardly ever risked exposure... Hence the "fling" with Yuuri Katsuki; spending so much time with a man close to his age who adored him - even if the man wasn't much to look at, Viktor probably was affection-starved when it came to his own gender. Oh, I won't stop coming up with Viktor Nikiforov theories, will I?!

In fact, Yuuri was half-embarrassed with himself, half-mad that Viktor hadn't swept him off his feet with a kiss... Or something. He had provoked him and only gotten an infuriating sky-blue dove-eyed look that was currently doing things to him he didn't want to acknowledge. Despite his better judgment, Yuuri let his gaze dart back to Viktor.

The dove eyes were still there with the difference that Viktor was clutching the little girl even closer. She had buried her head in his shoulder.

Yuuri's shame peaked. Not only had he resolved to underhanded sexual harassment, but he had also done it all in the presence of this frightened child that appeared to have some mental issues already. Well, better finish the job appropriately.

"Do svidanya, Vitya," he said half-mockingly, half-seductively, adding a playful wink as a final touch. Get a dose from your own medicine, Nikiforov!

As Yuuri turned to leave, Viktor looked like a kicked puppy.

...xXxXxXx…

Being evil just doesn't make you feel better, Yuuri concluded once he was a safe distance away from the mall's play zone. His disgust by how low he had stooped would not abate. He was angry at himself. Ironically, he was plagued by a desire to vent this anger on anybody or anything else. Now isn't this a vicious circle? he sighed.

He had no choice but to admit to himself that his emotions were running wild and had been doing so for days. Only the "Theme of King JJ" kept him soldiering on as did what little self-respect he had - he wouldn't fail another Grand Prix because of poor self-control. However, if he kept on this track neither JJ nor anyone else would be able to stop him before he went off the rails.

I will do better. I'd rather end my wretched career right now than permanently turn into a monster. WHICH IS WHY I will NOT let my sick romance with Viktor make me do either!

Yuuri's thoughts had turned way more serious than he was currently comfortable with, so he sought refuge in the virtual world. He turned his mobile on, hoping that somebody would have sent him some random message. Marie with some Hasetsu gossip. Minako threatening she would show up in Saint Petersburg unless he wrote or called more frequently. Somebody!

As soon as Yuuri entered his password, his phone exploded with notifications.

Oh, no! The bloody video!

It was the last thing in the world Yuuri wanted to deal with. Retract that, Viktor took 1st place in this discipline (when doesn't Viktor get the gold after all?), so the Japanese took to plowing through messages with a heavy heart.

The oldest one was from Jean-Jacques himself and was promptly looked over. Yuuri couldn't deal with it, especially given the fact he had ignored JJ's apologies for his inappropriate behavior at the dinner they had during his brief stay in Saint Petersburg. In the end, he had no sufficient excuse for not answering the man's weekly messages, so he bashfully skimmed through what everybody else had written him.

Mostly, it was mountains of praise. Yuuri couldn't believe his eyes. He opened the video, expecting this to be compensated by the bashing of his performance by the public or JJ's fanbase at least. But the YouTube video had thousands of views and barely any dislikes.

"Ah, here you are! You know that besides forcing me to search the entire floor for you, you also did something to Viktor that had him barely speaking to anybody? The little girl, Alina, was even worse; it took me an eternity to bring them both back to reality!"

Yuuri glanced at Georgi. What was he to say to this? Plead guilty as charged? And what the hell was Viktor's deal these days?! Yuuri at least had a reason for his assholery; Viktor had no right to be as... worryingly creepy as he was. He would withdraw into himself at anything; Yuuri had no idea what triggered it. Not to mention that he had been too self-absorbed and furious at him to give it more than a passing thought.

"Look," Georgi started with a serious expression, "I know he did you wrong. But he's my brother, and I won't just stand by if you continue turning him into some hollow shell of a person! Payback won't make you feel better; I have experience in the matter."

"I know," Yuuri answered petulantly. What I don't know is how I will stay true to myself so close to Viktor. You don't get over a man you work with every day and live with unless... You leave, and, no, I can't leave; I dismissed this possibility already... To end the unpleasant conversation, he handed his phone to Georgi, saying simply, "Look."

"Wow," Georgi muttered, appreciating the hundreds of views and likes Yuuri's video had gathered. "Told you so."

Just as the words got out of his mouth, Yuuri's mobile started ringing. A grinning JJ appeared onscreen.

"Hang up!" Yuuri pleaded instantaneously. "No, don't, just wait until he hangs up."

"Tell me one good reason."

"I've been ignoring him for weeks! I just can't talk to him right now!"

"Oh, I've had it with people ignoring things until they blow up in their face!"

Georgi took the call.

Jean-Jacques had his camera turned on. To Yuuri's horror, the Canadian was standing in front of dozens of people, wearing T-shirts with JJ's logo under which "JJ Style" was written. For some reason, they were all cheering. JJ held a hand up, gesturing for silence.

"Yuuri! You got us all by surprise! Your "Theme of King JJ" skate was astonishing, which is why I'm coming to you! I'm at Heathrow right now; this amazing crowd decided to see me off after the JJ book premiere in London!" JJ had to wait until the applause dried up before continuing, this time turning to face his fans: "Sooo, everybody, listen! My flight to Saint Petersburg is in just an hour! In three more days, we I will be holding a skating gala at Viktor Nikiforov's home rink together with Yuuri Katsuki and Georgi Popovich! Feel free to spread the word, and no worries, we'll stream the event live on my YouTube channel!"

Yuuri and Georgi exchanged puzzled glances. "I think it's good we answered the call. Now at least we know he'll show up sometime during the night!" Georgi whispered.

"Georgi, that's crazy; he can't just do that out of the blue!"

"Well, he's calling us right now to let us know," Georgi snickered. "Though I've no intention to argue the matter of his sanity."

"He's more focused on letting his British fan base know about an event that's not happening!" Yuuri whispered back angrily.

In this moment, JJ turned to face them again.

"So, Georgi, Yuuri, see you at Pulkovo in about 4 hours."

"Four hours?!" Georgi and Yuuri exclaimed in disbelief.

"Yeah, flights to you from here take no time; part of the reason why I decided to pay you another visit!" the Canadian smiled dashingly. "This is going to be soooo... JJ STYLE!" he shouted out, performing his trademark sign, the whole crowd behind him following suit.

JJ winked and waved goodbye before disconnecting the call.

"I'll die before I let another video of me get posted on YouTube again!" Yuuri groaned. "What are we gonna do with him?!"

"I suggest dinner first. Then he'll have to stay at my place, I presume. And tomorrow we'll discuss the crazy gala thing he's planned at our rink."

Cutting the whole "What are we gonna do with JJ?" into sizable chunks calmed Yuuri down, but he was still far from content with the situation.

"We really could have done without another crazy coming to town. We're crazed enough as it is."

"Why content with crazy when things can get insane?" Georgi laughed. So did Yuuri.

"We're so fucked, my friend. Let's at least get rid of the damned clothes before the King arrives."

"My, I'll be housing royalty! In a Soviet apartment building!"

The two friends headed for one of the many shops in the mall, trading jokes at JJ's expense.


Notes: So, here we are finally. I hope the characterization makes sense to you. There are still many missing puzzle pieces about Viktor, but we're already seeing him in a different light. The Bernd-Viktor hospital scene wasn't going to be included initially, but I think it gives us an idea of what the relationship between those two is (if it seems weird at first, remember that Viktor just crashed into a tree and Bernd got scared to death about his Vitya). The scene also shows how unstable Viktor is and that, honestly, he needs help ASAP (no surprise Bernd wants to drag him to Germany for a session or two with Steinmeier).

Next chapter: Yurio and Otabek will be back! Maybe even Yurio's dad. "Fat Bulat" - definitely. :D King JJ is a must, of course. Viktor will be pushed to the back seat a little, but the 13th chapter is going to be his own as much as the 10th was Yurio's, so important puzzle pieces are coming soon.

Dictionary:
Neposlushnyy rebyonok = Naughty child
Я люблю тебя = I love you
Нет! Я ненавижу тебя, ты плохой. = No! I hate you; you're bad/evil.
Я очень люблю тебя, Витенка. = I love you very much, Vitenka.
Obuvyy, snikeryy = Shoes, sneakers
Glupyy zaychik = Stupid/foolish little rabbit.
Здравствуй = Hello
Do svidanya = Goodbye