A/N: This is just your friendly reminder that early teenage years are confusing, and hormones are messy as hell. Not going to spoil where I'm going with this, but just putting that disclaimer out there. ^^
Also, the show didn't really give us much to go on, but I'm reading between the lines and assuming Viktor didn't have the happiest childhood or the most supportive family. (He said he had gone without life and love for 20 years, at the age of 27, so…yeah). If Season 2 shows us a wonderful set of amazing Nikiforovs, I and a bunch of other writers on this site will have to do a collective 'my bad'.
Disclaimer: I don't own Yuri on Ice!
Lexi left the backstage area a few moments later, saying that she was going to go out and find seats for the women's short program. Sonia walked with her for a few steps before doubling back, under the pretense of retrieving something she'd forgotten from the locker room. She was fairly sure that Lexi didn't believe that, but her friend gave her a sympathetic look and nodded, promising to catch up later.
Sonia hadn't actually forgotten anything, but she headed towards the locker room anyway, as much to keep up the pretense as to clear her head. Her mind felt like it had been stuffed with static, and the world around her seemed blurred, her body carrying her to the locker room on autopilot.
A crush. Her.
She couldn't exactly believe it.
Sonia had heard about crushes of course, and knew what they were, but always from a removed, academic standpoint. They were something that happened to other people, not to her. It was the sort of thing that she always thought would happen to her eventually, but 'eventually' was a long, long stretch of time. She had no idea what a crush would even feel like and wondered if this was it, if the way her heart jumped whenever she got a text message was part of that feeling.
If so, she wasn't convinced she liked it very much.
Her phone beeped again and Sonia nearly yelped, digging it out of her pocket. She tapped out a quick 'have to go, sorry, talk later?' and put her phone away. After a moment, she pressed her fingertips to her cheek, frowning in thought. Her face was warm.
"What are you staring into space for? You already won." The sound of the voice coming from behind her—female, Russian, and unmistakably annoyed—startled her, and Sonia tensed, looking over her shoulder. Zoya was standing there, still dressed in her costume, her silver medal gleaming on her chest. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying, but she glared at Sonia as if daring the other girl to mention it.
Sonia's eyes widened. "Zoya—," she began.
Zoya held a hand up, cutting her off. "Don't."
"Don't what?" Sonia asked.
Zoya rolled her eyes. "Don't ask me if I'm okay," she said. "I don't need your pity. I just wanted to let you know that this isn't over, American girl. I'll see you at Junior Worlds. And this time, I'll win."
Sonia's mouth worked, trying to come up with something intelligent to say. A part of her still wanted to ask how Zoya was doing, wanted to know if she would be alright with her mom, or if this would only hurt things between them going forward. Wanted to ask about Nadya. But she could tell from the look in Zoya's eye that her concerns wouldn't be appreciated.
So she breathed deep and tried to summon up one of the characters she skated as on the ice.
Sonia held Zoya's gaze, letting her mouth curve into a confident smile. "Alright," she said. "You better be there. I'm looking forward to it."
"Good," Zoya said. The other girl moved forward, her shoulder bumping into Sonia's on the way past. "Don't forget it."
"Hey," Sonia said a few moments later, walking quickly towards where Clara was seated in the stands. "Sorry I took so long."
"Where were you?" Clara asked, handing Sonia the other end of the large Japanese flag she had brought to hang over the railing. "Hana-nee's about to start!"
"Sorry again," Sonia said, looking back over at the ice. Hana was standing with their parents and with Yura, who hadn't yet retreated to the stand. The ice was still being resurfaced, but the empty seats were full of people now, and from the sound of it, warm-ups were going to start soon. She could have cut it closer, but not by much. "I had a run-in with Zoya."
Clara scowled at the mention of the Russian girl's name, looking back out at the ice. "Everything alright?" she asked.
"Yeah," Sonia said, "Everything's fine." She didn't tell Clara about that other thing, about the thing that Lexi had suggested to her, the part that still made her mind spin if she thought about it too much. Instead, her mind moved over the other skaters at the rink, taking them in.
What did it mean if she had a crush on Lyssa? Sonia hadn't really given much thought to who or what she liked in a person—she hadn't really thought about attraction or romance at all. But now she found herself looking at the other skaters on the rink and at people in the audience, trying to work out who or what she found attractive. Her eyes landed on Yura. Was Yura attractive? She knew that a lot of girls and some guys thought so, but at the thought, her nose scrunched up in distaste. He was too close and she knew him too well—he was practically her brother.
What about Otabek? Maybe, Sonia thought, from an objective point of view, but he was too old. It probably wouldn't be a good idea to look at the senior skaters. What about people her own age? Who did she know, besides Preston and Lexi and Xander?
Zac and some of the other American skaters? Sonia tried to imagine herself with any of them, but the exercise just made her face turn red and made her feel slightly queasy. Come to think of it, she wasn't even sure she wanted to—well—do anything with Lyssa. What did you even do with a crush? The thought of kissing her just weirded her out, but—but maybe, Sonia thought, her face growing redder, maybe she'd like to hold Lyssa's hand sometime…
"Okay…" Clara said, glancing at Sonia. "You're really starting to weird me out now. What's wrong?"
Sonia shook her head quickly, trying to clear her mind of the thoughts. She was half-afraid Clara could see them on her face, but the look her younger sister gave her was more puzzled than anything.
"Nothing," she said. "Everything's fine."
Clara frowned, and the look she gave her told her that she didn't really believe that, but she sighed and rested her arms on the railing, not pressing further. Sonia went back to scanning the crowd before an idea struck her. She looked back at Clara.
"Hey…" she said. The heat rose to her face again, her heart pounding. She couldn't believe she was actually going to ask this. "Clara?"
"Yeah?" Clara asked, glancing back at her.
"Um…so…I'm just wondering—because I was talking to Lexi and she—never mind." Sonia quickly broke off, aware that she was about to start over-explaining. "Just, out of curiosity, do you find any of the other skaters…cute?"
Clara didn't seem at all embarrassed by the question, which was great, because Sonia felt like her soul was about to leave her body. Her sister frowned in thought, eyes sweeping over the lower portion of the stands, where some of the skaters and their coaching staff were still congregating. "Hmm…well, that Japanese guy over there's not bad," she said. "He's kind of cute, in a J-pop kind of way. And there was that one Spanish guy from earlier. And Xander's not bad, but he's not into girls, is he? Why do you ask?"
"N-No reason," Sonia said, looking away from Clara. Her eyes swept over the Japanese skater she had pointed out and her face felt like it was turning, if possible, redder. "Never mind."
Clara squinted at Sonia, brow furrowing suspiciously. Sonia held her breath, waiting for Clara to push, but to her surprise, Clara didn't. Instead, Clara gripped her end of the flag tighter, turning her attention back to the rink.
"They're about to start," she said.
Sonia tried to breathe as Clara cupped her hand around her mouth, shouting out a 'Ganba, Hana-nee!' to the ice below. She tried to get in the right mindset to cheer Hana on, but her mind still felt like it was spinning.
She was slowly coming to terms with something about herself…
Hana placed second in her short program, despite Hitomi attempting to rile her up before her skate. Viktor had noticed the other girl coming in to talk to Hana before her performance, but as coaches, he and Yuuri hadn't been able to stop them from speaking, not without making more of a fuss than there already was.
Yurio and Otabek, however, didn't have those same problems. Viktor pretended not to notice the two of them getting up from the bench as Hitomi neared, putting themselves between her and Hana, and pretended not to be pleased when their presence made Hitomi cut her visit short. At the age of twenty-four Yurio still operated on reverse psychology sometimes; the fastest way to make him stop doing something good was to point it out.
Now that the program was over, Viktor leaned against the wall backstage as Yuuri and Hana spoke to reporters together. One of the reporters was Japanese, and Viktor caught a few sentences of the rapid-fire Japanese being exchanged between them, most of it questions about Hana's plans for the free skate. The official press would be too polite to make any mention of the gossip about Hana in Japan, and Yuuri seemed to be handling the media attention very well, but Viktor stayed close just in case he was needed. He checked his phone, noticing the abundance of responses from his post about Sonia.
Viktor smiled as he scrolled through them, responding to a handful of notable ones. Thinking of Sonia's win still left him with a warm feeling in his heart. It also left him feeling a little tired, his mind flashing back to the intensity of the night before. It was a pleasant sort of weariness, nothing like last night. He'd promised the girls and Yuuri a celebratory dinner, but he supposed no one would complain if they made their celebration a quick one and headed straight back to the hotel.
He was looking forward to being close to Yuuri again.
Someone approached him out of the corner of his vision, and Viktor instinctively put his phone away. Yakov was walking down the hallway towards him, carrying a large bag in one hand. The Russian coach looked older and more tired than he had the last time Viktor had seen him, and Viktor felt his lips turn down in a concerned frown. He straightened up, turning to face Yakov and turning his back to Hana and Yuuri.
"Vitya," Yakov said, by way of greeting.
Viktor put a smile on his face, raising his hand in a wave. "Hello, Yakov," he said. "You're looking well."
Yakov grunted in response, holding the bag out to him. "That boy I'm coaching pulls in more of those plush toys than anyone could want," he said. "Look through those and see if the girls want any."
Viktor refrained from mentioning that Sonia and Clara both had more plush toys than either of them needed—many of them shaped suspiciously like cats. Instead, he thanked Yakov, taking the bag from him and setting it aside.
"How is Ilia?" Viktor asked, remembering the younger Russian from the men's short program yesterday. He'd finished in fifth place, unless Viktor was mistaken. A good score, but nowhere near Yurio's.
Yakov grunted in response. "Well," he said. "I noticed Yura is stubborn as always."
"He never changes," Viktor agreed.
Yakov's eyes moved past Viktor, drifting over Yuuri and Hana before snapping back to his face. They were narrowed critically, as if they were searching for something in Viktor's expression. Viktor frowned, slightly puzzled, and waited for Yakov to speak.
"Things are alright?" Yakov finally asked. "Between you and Yuuri?"
Viktor arched an eyebrow.
"You were alone in the kiss-and-cry last night," Yakov said. "With Yura."
Ah. That would explain it. He was sure he hadn't looked his best last night either, but how could he? He offered Yakov an apologetic smile.
"Things between us are fine, thanks for asking," he said. "Yuuri was just…with Sonechka."
He left it at that. Yakov's brow furrowed in suspicion, but after a moment of glaring at Viktor, he dropped the subject. Instead, he glanced away, his eyes fixed on the television screen which was now displaying highlights from the earlier competitions.
"That girl of yours did well today," he said.
Viktor privately thought that was an understatement, but considering that Yakov had watched him set world records with a scowl and a 'don't let it get to your head', Viktor wouldn't have expected anything less. He nodded. "She did," he said. "We're very proud of her."
"She reminds me of you," Yakov said, giving him a sidelong glance.
There was a lot of history in that statement. A lot of memories of cold nights in St. Petersburg, of moving from one competition to another, of moving to an apartment for the first time with no one but Makkachin for company. There were a lot of things that went unsaid, and Viktor didn't say them now. Instead, he tried for a smile and hoped it didn't come out too melancholy. "Only the good things, I hope," he said.
Yakov grunted in response. There was a pause, during which the clips being played on the screen moved from today's competitions to yesterday's, showing clips of Yurio and Otabek on the ice.
"I'm retiring soon," he said, not looking at Viktor.
Viktor let out a breath of air. In some ways, he had been expecting this. Yakov wasn't getting any younger. But Yakov had been at the skating club in St. Petersburg for decades. He was a fixture, a constant, coaching one champion after another. It was hard to imagine what Russian skating would look like without him.
"What will happen to the rink?" Viktor asked, after a while.
"Would you consider moving back to Russia?"
For a moment, he wasn't sure he had heard right. When the words did reach him, he wondered if Yakov was joking, but then he glanced at his former coach and realized that Yakov was nothing but serious. Yakov had once said, nearly ten years ago, that Viktor could never coach anyone.
Something in his chest went tight. He thought about Yuuri and Yurio in St. Petersburg, thought about the earlier days of his and Yuuri's relationship, thought about bringing that back. And then he thought about Sonia and Clara, so very at home in America, thought about pulling them out of warmth and familiarity and into the cold and strangeness of his home country, and the knot in his chest tied itself tighter.
Yuuri and Yurio were like him. They were nomads, they could live anywhere. But could he do that to the girls? Could he undo all the work that he and Yuuri had put into starting this fledgling skating club of their own?
But Yakov's rink was a tradition. It had existed before Yakov, and would continue to exist after him. How could Viktor let that die?
Yakov must have seen something of his conflict on his face, because he scowled, turning away. "Think about it," he said. "But don't do it if it would mean uprooting your family. I've made that mistake before, Vitya. Don't repeat my failure."
He started walking away. Viktor stared after him, mouth dry. It wasn't often that he was rendered speechless, but it took him a moment to find his voice.
"You didn't fail," he said.
Yakov paused in his step, looking over his shoulder at him.
"You didn't fail," Viktor said again, insistently. "You didn't fail to hold onto a family."
Yakov's eyes widened a fraction, and he looked away quickly, shaking his head. "You never change," he said. "Sentimental idiot." He took a step forward, as if he was about to start walking again, then stopped. "At Nationals," he added, looking over at Viktor, "Don't forget to bring the girls over for dinner."
"I won't," Viktor promised.
Yakov met his eyes, nodding once.
He walked away.
Sonia liked girls.
Maybe.
She wasn't sure. Because while she was becoming aware of the fact that she might like Lyssa, she still wasn't fully convinced. She'd never had a crush before, so how did she know this was a crush? And if she wasn't sure if it was a crush or not, she certainly wasn't going to tell anyone about it. Her parents would be supportive, sure, but how embarrassed would she be if she got them all worked up and then had to take it back later? And how did she know she wasn't just really excited to be friends?
But it was a thought that seemed to match up with all the evidence Sonia could think of now. So far, in the two hours or so that she had been thinking about this, she hadn't felt anything to the contrary. Sure, she didn't actually feel like she liked any of the girls around her, but Lyssa was a girl, and if she liked Lyssa, then the number of girls she liked was not zero.
So that was proof, right?
Only...if she did like girls, wouldn't that have come up before now? She spent every summer for the past six years basically living at a hot springs resort, and there were other girls there all the time.
Oh God, she thought, her face flushing with red at the thought. If that was true, then what was this summer going to be like? Would she even be allowed to go in the hot springs—no, wait, that was ridiculous. Her parents got in the hot springs all the time—but how was that even supposed to work?
"Um…Son?" a voice asked from behind her. "Are you okay? You're looking a little, um…warm."
Sonia let out a squeak of surprise, actually jumping at the sound of the voice. She'd been so preoccupied thinking about that that she'd almost forgotten where she was—at the arena for the Grand Prix Final. The Grand Prix Final she had just won. She looked over her shoulder and saw Preston standing there, hands wide and palms held up towards her as if to show that he was unarmed. She stared at him, her face turning redder from embarrassment, and quickly looked away.
"Um—yes—yeah, I'm okay!" she said, inwardly cringing at how high-pitched her voice sounded. She tugged at her hair and tried to calm herself down. "Are you—sorry, were you saying something?"
"Just congratulating you on your win," Preston said, drawing up beside her and leaning against the railing. The ice below them was already getting resurfaced—how long had it been since the ladies' competition ended? People hadn't left the arena yet, so the pairs' competition hadn't started, at least. "It was really awesome. Lexi, Xander and I were talking about going out to celebrate, but Lex mentioned that your parents might have plans."
Parents. Plans. Right. Because she'd won. Sonia tried furiously to kick her overheated brain back into some semblance of function, searching through her memory for any conversation about dinner. "I think we're meeting for dinner in like ten minutes," she said. "Dad and Hana are just talking to some people."
Which might explain where Clara had gone, come to think of it. Had her sister said something about coming back for her, or was she supposed to meet them somewhere? Sonia wished now that she had paid more attention.
If Preston noticed her inner turmoil, he didn't say anything. "Yeah," he said, "That's what Lexi said. So I was thinking, we should just meet up tomorrow night. After we all finish skating. Then we can celebrate Team USA or something."
Right, Sonia thought, her mind slowly putting events back in order. Team USA. Because Lexi, Xander, and Preston were all skating tomorrow.
"How are you feeling about your free skate?" Sonia asked, because that was the sort of question a friendwould ask, and come on, Sonia, pull yourself together!
"Feeling pretty good," said Preston, offering her a grin. "After all, my Grand Prix twin just won gold. Can't let you show me up tomorrow, can I?"
Sonia smiled, remembering the post that Preston had made about them in Bratislava. "That's right," she said. "I'm expecting a gold medal from you, Preston."
"That's the plan, Son," Preston said, clapping her on the shoulder. "That's the plan." He walked off, raising his hand in a wave. "See you tomorrow?"
"Um—sure. See you tomorrow!"
Preston frowned at her, head tilted slightly to the side. He paused, looking like he was going to say something more before he shook his head, walking away. Sonia kept the smile fixed on her face until he was gone, then breathed out and bit her lip, her mind jumping down another rabbit hole. Because she thought she had things figured out, and it was a small thing, it was a really small thing. It was the sort of thing that she might not have noticed if she hadn't been spending the past couple of hours looking for exactly that thing.
But Preston's hand on her shoulder had left an odd sort of tingle in its wake, and Preston was definitely not a girl, and now she was really confused.
It was the second to the last night of the Grand Prix Final, and Hana was fast learning that she couldn't keep up drinking with Yuri and Otabek, although not for lack of trying. It wasn't that any of them were particularly drunk, not with all of them having free skates to do the next day, but while Hana was carefully nursing her first glass of wine, she was fairly certain Yuri and Otabek had had more than one drink each.
Viktor and Yuuri had invited her and Yuri to attend the celebration they were hosting for Sonia, but both of them had declined—Hana because she didn't want to intrude on what was almost certainly going to be a family event, and Yuri for reasons of his own. Hana had no idea why Yuri and Otabek had invited her out with them, whether it was because they wanted to make sure she made it to her free skate alive and scandal-free after finishing a full two places ahead of Hitomi, or whether it was just that they didn't want to be alone with each other with the free skate looming.
Looking at the two of them, Hana thought it was probably a little bit of both. She picked up her glass, taking a small sip of wine.
She wasn't sure what clued her in to Hitomi's presence. Maybe it was the fact that the restaurant they were sitting in turned a little chillier, a little less friendly, or maybe it was the way that both of the skaters sitting in front of her went tense, their eyes flicking to something in the middle of the room. Whatever it was, she lowered her glass, the wine still tart on her tongue as she looked over her shoulder.
"Oh, out drinking already, Hana-chan?" Hitomi asked, in falsely sweet Japanese that did not at all line up with the ugly look in her eye. Her eyes swept over Yuri and Otabek at the same table, and Hana saw her hand reach for her purse, as if she was about to pull out her phone. "Haven't learned your lesson yet?"
"I'm eighteen," Hana replied, her voice cool, "I'm in Spain, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't speak to me on such familiar terms, Hitomi."
Hitomi's eyes narrowed, her smile turning brittle. "You'd think you'd want to watch your reputation a little more," she said, lowering her voice to a near whisper. "Since the free skate is tomorrow, and all."
Hana held Hitomi's gaze, casually raising the wine glass to her lips. She tipped it back, draining it all without breaking eye contact, and set the empty glass back on the table in front of her. Hana quirked a brow in challenge, and Hitomi's smile broke, her face going white with anger. Her fingers closed tighter around her bag strap.
"Hey, bitch," Yuri said, in accented, broken Japanese. "This is private table. Back off."
Hitomi's eyes widened, and she looked back at Yuri, as if she was surprised at being understood. Yuri scowled at her, and beside him, Otabek—who couldn't possibly have understood any of the conversation—bristled, looking ready to stand up and call security. Hitomi's eyes flicked between the two of them, and she looked back at Hana.
"You can't keep hiding behind them," she said.
"You want start something?" Yuri asked, still in Japanese. "Go ahead. I'll wait. Otherwise, go find own friends—if you have any." He leaned back in his chair, holding his glass and looking up at Hitomi expectantly.
Hitomi glared at them as if she were seriously considering it, but apparently, the prospect of making an enemy out of Yuri Plisetsky wasn't something she wanted to do that evening. She turned around, leaving the restaurant in a whirl of skirts and fury. The three of them watched her go, and Hana topped off Yuri's glass when he set it back down.
"Your Japanese is terrible," she said, in English.
"Your language is fucking hard," Yuri replied, in the same language. He raised his glass, and said "Cheers." Hana arched her brow.
"You speak Russian," she said.
"Yeah," Yuri said. "So?"
"Aren't you even a little worried?" Hana asked, glancing back at the door. "She's going to find a way to drag you into the crossfire now."
From beside him, Otabek snorted in derision, taking a sip of his own drink.
Yuri shrugged. "I've been trying to get my fan club to back off for years," he said. "I'd like to see her try." He drank deep from the glass in his hand, then set it back down on the table, meeting Hana's eyes. "You better crush her tomorrow."
"Don't worry," Hana said. "I was planning on it."
Yuri's hotel room was on the same floor as Hana's, three doors down and across the hall, and Otabek's room was only two floors below theirs. So of course, on the way back from the restaurant, the three of them parted ways so that Yuri and Otabek could take a 'shortcut' back to the hotel that would actually end up setting them on a winding route that took twice as long. From the way Hana's brow creased when he waved her off at the crosswalk, he wasn't fooling anyone, but she went back to the hotel on her own without another word.
That left him and Otabek alone, on the night before the free skate.
They walked in silence for most of the way. Otabek didn't attempt to start conversation, letting Yuri work through his thoughts on his own. When they had gone halfway down their rambling path, Yuri grit his teeth, looking up.
"I still don't like that you're retiring," he said.
Otabek nodded. "I noticed."
"But if this is what you want to do, then do it," Yuri said, scowling. He stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Just don't go easy on me tomorrow. If you slack off just because you're going to be retired soon, I'm never going to forgive you."
Otabek's lip curved in a tight smile.
"That's the last thing you have to worry about, Yura," he said.
Hana should have seen this coming.
She should have known better than to leave her bag unattended at all, even if it was only for ten minutes or so while she went over some final points with her coaches. She should have expected Hitomi would try something, that the other girl wouldn't take the insult in the restaurant lying down.
She should have been prepared for this, but she wasn't.
It was Saturday night, the last night of the Grand Prix Final, immediately before the ladies' free skate. The junior events had all wrapped up this morning. Sonia's pair skating friends had medaled and her friend in the junior men's division had placed fourth, so all of the junior Americans had gone out to dinner before the senior events started, Clara included. The girls were in high spirits and the mood was catching, so by the time Hana and Yuri arrived at the rink for their own competitions, Hana was feeling pretty good about the event.
Good enough to forget to be careful, apparently. Good enough to forget that she had enemies.
Hana stared at her costume for a few long moments before picking it up out of her bag, zipping up her jacket, and leaving the locker room. Yuri was standing not far away, near the entrance to the waiting area where skaters and their coaches were congregating. He glanced at her from over his phone, scowling.
"Why aren't you dressed?" he asked. "Your event starts in twenty minutes."
In response, Hana unfolded her costume, holding it in both hands. She'd been proud of her free skate costume. Hana had never really been much for the frilly dresses and sparkly outfits that her old coach had forced her into, but Yuuri and Viktor seemed to understand who she was and what she wanted. Her costume conveyed the perfect blend of femininity and strength, a silk-over-steel sort of understated elegance that Hana had been happy to wear. It had also been expensive, costing some two thousand dollars or so.
And it had a tear in a seam all along its side, one that definitely hadn't been there when Hana had packed the costume.
Clara's Phone
WhatsApp Messages from ~Axel~ (Axel Nishigori)
Axel: Literally everyone in JP is cheering for Hitomi. Except in Hasetsu, ofc. (10:36 AM)
Clara: that's sooooo dumb, ugh. hana-nee is so much better and already in 2nd place (10:39 AM)
Axel: Right? Mom and Dad have a poster of her at the rink, lol. They don't care. (10:40 AM)
Clara: i your parents, say hi! (10:41 AM)
Axel: Okay! Btw, Clara-chan, can you be a tiebreaker for us? Lutz is asking. (10:44 AM)
Clara: okay, how? (10:45 AM)
Axel: Men's division: Lutz thinks Otabek can win, Loop isn't voting, and I'm betting on Yurio. Thoughts? (10:47 AM)
Clara: hmm… (10:49 AM)