This chapter's Big Mood: Emil is a dumbass, Phichit is an angel, Michele is emo
(CW for this chap: self harm mention, blood mention, sexual assault mention, eating disorder mention. The last two are very brief but I'd recommend skipping Emil's part if the first three upset you.)

JOIN OUR YURI ON ICE ROLEPLAY!
Okay so I used to rp in the beyblade fandom (lmao) when I was like 13 and I forgot how fucking fun it is. I joined a yoi discord rp group the other day and honestly? Depression cured. Only happy fics from me for now on lads
I'm kidding abt that bit but seriously everyone is lovely and im having so much fun. It's a group chat based thing but there's also side servers and irl interactions can be done easily! There's loads of cool characters left like JJ, Chris, Mila, Sara, Emil, etc etc. I play Otabek bc I love him and we're looking for new people!
Just send a message to yuri-on-ice-rp-server dot tumblr dot com to reserve your space! (why does this website blank links thanks fanfiction dot net)The characters are on a first come, first served basis so you better nyoom. If you don't have a tumblr, you can send an anon ask to yuri-on-ice-rp-server dot tumblr dot com slash ask and it can be done through there too. (thanks fanfic dot net) They'll send you the link, which you can just copy and paste into your browser, it will prompt you to create an account and then (hacker voice) you're in. Come chat with me and roleplay some good good bois

I sound like an advertiser but im just rlly excited tbhh

I hope ya'll enjoy this chapter uwu

It wasn't poetic, or like something out of a movie. He didn't sleepily blink his eyes open to be greeted with the view of a hospital room, friends and family crowded around him, holding his hands and climbing over each other to ask him if he was okay. He wasn't lulled awake by the sound of a heart monitor beeping only to crash hard and want to fall back into unconsciousness again when he realised he had failed.

No, it didn't play out anything like that, because Emil never even lost consciousness. As soon as the skin on the delicate part of his wrist parted and a stream of blood clouded his vision, something inside of him snapped. He threw the sharp object away from him as far as he could- somewhere in the general direction of the trash cans- and screamed.

(In retrospect, perhaps this wasn't the best suicide method for someone with an adverse fear of blood).

He was found quickly, fortunately, and an ambulance was called. The entire time he just sat with his head between his knees, hyperventilating, not able to pay attention to the kind stranger who sat with him and squeezed his wrist hard to stop him from losing too much blood. It was nightmarish. What the fuck was he thinking? He didn't want to die, he should have just run away and become a male escort or a street sale vendor. There were plenty of other ways out of his situation and he had to pick the most dramatic one.

The sound of his father's voice echoing in his head almost dissociated him from the wail of ambulance sirens. That raspy growl, telling him that he had failed once again, that he was useless. The feel of his rough fingers over Emil's skin. The smirk he held, predatory and disgusting.

Emil threw up just as the paramedics reached him.

"Hello, love, what's your name? I'm Adhira. Can you open your eyes?"

She was a kind-looking woman, all black hair and smiles, white teeth looking pretty against her brown skin. Emil decided he could trust her.

"E-Emil." He swallowed and the acid made his throat burn. "Am I going to die? Th-That was my aim, but, I-I'm not so sure now-"

"No, love, we're going to take care of you."

Other paramedics surrounded him and Emil just sighed.

He wanted to sleep. He wanted a glass of water. He wanted his father to be arrested and left to rot in prison for what he had done to him.

So, when Adhira asked him if anything specific caused his suicide attempt, he didn't hesitate to look her in the eye and reveal the truth. His words, "my father sexually abuses me", made her visibly flinch, but made him feel so fucking free.


Phichit Chulanont was a slippery fucker. Those were Viktor's exact words, muttered to himself as he poured over page 22 of Google Search results. His laptop screen was a mess of disorganised search tabs, Facebook profiles, Thai lawyer websites and discontinued South East Asian phone numbers- and yet, three hours later, he was still clueless. One false hope about a Phichit Chulanont who turned out to be a vet was enough to deflate his expectations.

Yuuri had taken Otabek and Yuri out grocery shopping once they had woken up, which surprisingly made Yuri alter his expression from 'scarily pissed' to 'only moderately annoyed'. The promise that he could pick up whatever snacks he liked was enough to make him stop threatening the two of them and actually put his shoes on.

So, Viktor was left alone with the simple task of finding Yuuri's old college friend. Only the task was beginning to seem impossible and he was becoming more and more frustrated as time when on. Seriously, who didn't have at least one Facebook account?

He was ready to throw in the towel when his phone buzzed and the screen lit up with a text notification from Yuuri. Viktor smirked, expecting to see an "SOS" message begging him to save him from grocery-store manic Yuri Plisetsky.

What he got instead was an Instagram page link.

'Found him! Xxx' The following text read, and Viktor was all but ready to throw his phone against the nearest wall because of course Yuuri could locate him with no trouble whatsoever.

He clicked the link with only a small amount of distaste and was immediately sucked into a page of hamster pictures, selfies, sunset shots and the occasional meal picture. Phichit was a cute-looking man, with a face that didn't seem to suit his age or profession, but Viktor wasn't one to judge. He was just relieved that he had a way to contact him.

Finger hovering over the 'send message' option, he took a moment to think about what they were doing. In little over a month, he had gone from casual cover teacher to Viktor Nikiforov: full time class co-ordinator slash temporary carer of two damaged kids slash social media protégée. It was a transformation that he definitely wasn't expecting, however it was on his shoulders now and he had responsibilities.

Yuuri crashed through the door a little while later, clutching an overwhelming amount of grocery bags. He was red in the face and had stress lines between his eyebrows. Any other time, Viktor would have found it cute, but now he just pressed his lips together and watched as his boyfriend let the bags fall on the floor as he rubbed at the red idents on his arms from the plastic handles.

"Everything okay?" Viktor all but whispered. Yuri and Otabek were lurking in the doorway and he felt like he needed permission to break the silence.

"Yep!" Yuuri smiled and gestured behind him at the teenagers. "Can you two help me pack the food away? Just throw the tins in the cupboard and the frozen stuff in the cooler." Surprisingly, there was little protest as Otabek herded Yuri into the kitchen, and when they were out of sight Yuuri sighed loudly.

"Oh my god. I know teenage boys eat a lot, but an underweight, upset, and hungry teenage boy is like an entirely new species."

Viktor couldn't help but chuckle. Okay, that was cute.

"How much did the bill-?"

"Don't. Just don't even ask that." Yuuri collapsed into the chair next to him and lay his head on Viktor's shoulder, ignoring the way his boyfriend chuckled. "So, did you message Phichit? It was a stroke of luck, really, that I found his Instagram. He's always changing his username and I accidentally deleted my account so I lost him, and then he came up in my recommendations."

Viktor shook his head slightly. "No, I thought you should message him. He knows you better, after all, right?"

Yuuri blinked a few times as if he suddenly came to the same realisation. "Oh. Yes. That would make sense. Well, you go help them unpack-" the smirk on his face made Viktor wince "-while I explain what's going on."

Viktor could hear the hushed conversation that the teenagers were having, and before he joined them to move the food from bag to cupboard, he hung back to watch and listen in.

"Beka." Yuri hissed, shoving a box of microwavable pizzas in Otabek's face. "There's so much food. What do I eat first?"

Otabek smiled in the subtle way that only Yuri recognised. He hesitated, looking around him, then passed him an entire bar of chocolate. "This."

"All of it?" Yuri gaped.

"As much as you want."

Viktor smiled to himself as Yuri tore the wrapper off and shoved a huge chuck of chocolate into his mouth. He ate with a sense of desperation, him and Yuuri had realised the night before, as if someone was going to take his food away or he wasn't going to get any more for a long time. The two of them came to the sad realisation that those scenarios were probably the reality, so they didn't comment or raise eyebrows when Yuri asked for third helpings or insisted on swallowing the fatty parts of meat that people usually left behind. Otabek ate in a much more contained way, however he, too, didn't turn down the offer of seconds.

Watching them now, laughing about the food they had, made Viktor happy. It made him sad, too, of course- nobody should be this excited over basic necessities- but it also evoked a sensation of happiness and pride. This was evidence that he was making a difference. He could see with his own eyes that he was helping them.

That was all he could ever ask of himself.


Yuuri sent the message, and luck was on their side for once, because Phichit was constantly on social media and responded almost immediately. He was delighted that Yuuri reached out and said how much he missed his best friend- and, most importantly, said he would be honoured to help Yuri and Otabek get their own place.

Viktor had to physically contain himself so he didn't shriek with joy and alert the teenagers, who would be staying until their situation was sorted out. No protests came from this, something that Viktor was shocked about, but put that down to the fact that they now had a source of food and a safe place to sleep. He and Yuuri decided to keep from telling them about the possibility of them getting their own place. They didn't want to get their hopes up only to let them down if it didn't work out.

But for now, things seemed to be falling into place. Yuuri insisted on paying for Phichit's plane ticket and the man would be arriving Tuesday afternoon, meaning that Viktor would have to get someone to cover his class for a couple of days. He couldn't deal with teaching on top of all the legal work they had to sort out.

Yuuri informed him that Phichit expected a law suit to go down since Yuri's mother still claimed child tax on him. If he legally moved out and emancipated himself from her, the money would go down the drain.

A court hearing loomed all too quickly. Viktor realised that soon, he might be meeting mother Plisetskaya. The woman who could so carelessly abuse and neglect her child for his entire life.

The thought disturbed him.


"Okay, okay, settle down. Mister Nikiforov is off for a couple days, so I have been appointed to teach you all of these… subjects." Christophe gestured vaguely at the piles of math and English books, a grimace on his face. He had no idea what he was doing.

"I have no idea what I'm doing. I know how to talk about herpes and where to get free condoms, not algebra and maths, so you'll all have to bear with me. But I'm going to try my best and I expect you all to as well." He smiled triumphantly and nodded at a raised hand at the back of the room. "Yes, what's up? And who are you?"

"Um, Minami Kenjirou, sir. And algebra is part of math. Just so you know." Minami clasped his hands together excitedly and Chris was amazed that his smile didn't fall as the rest of the class groaned.

"Right. Well, that shows how much I know about all this, but no fear! I have mastered the art of improvising. Right, everyone- that includes whoever is pretending to be asleep in the corner over there- open your textbooks to page twenty-five. The lesson plan says to complete questions one to six, so, just… do that I guess. I won't know the answer to any questions you may have so Google them instead of asking me."

Michele turned to Seung-gil, who sleepily rubbed his eyes and sat upright. He noticed as soon as he walked in how oddly quiet the class was. There were no threats being directed towards JJ from Plisetsky, no whoops of joy from Emil about having a cover teacher (a cover teacher to cover the cover teacher, ironically) and therefore no obligation to do any work. Otabek was hardly a loud person, but his intimidating presence had disappeared from its looming position in the corner. Michele didn't like it. It felt weird and he wanted answers.

"Oi," he said with no air of friendliness, "where is everyone? Why do we have the sex ed guy teaching us history?"

Seung-gil stared back with that creepy look of his and shrugged. "Do not know. Do not care. I will sleep." And then he put his head back down on the desk and Michele wondered why he had even bothered.

He rolled his eyes and leaned backwards on his chair to invade Leo and Guang Hong's personal space, fixing them with a raised eyebrow. "Do you two know where everyone is?"

Truthfully, he didn't know what to do with himself without Emil around to entertain him. The boy could be annoying, sure- he never stopped talking and his mood swings exhausted even the most resilient of people- but he was fucking funny. He was good company and after his weird outburst the other day… Michele worried about him. It wasn't like Emil to take a day off school, surprisingly, let alone without warning. Him and Minami had the highest attendances in the class. So this was uncharacteristic.

Guang Hong shrugged, but Leo's brow creased as he thought about it a little more. "I'm not too sure, but…" he begun, crossing his arms over him, "Yuri wasn't here at all last week, was he? Otabek showed up most of the time but I don't think he was here on Friday. Emil had a fucking breakdown last week. Dude, I used to share a class with Emil before we were put in E2, and he has some issues, so…"

Michele could hear the implicit suggestions in Leo's tone and he didn't like it. He pursed his lips. "Like, Yuri Plisetsky-level issues, or-?"

"It's hard to compare. He isn't an angry person, per say." Leo was choosing his words carefully. "He just always had a certain aura about him. Like he was either going to hug you or throw a chair at you. Which, yes, he did once, to a teacher. He would suddenly start crying out of nowhere and refused to let people touch him. He's a nice guy, but… he's just fucking weird."

"So he skipped class to have another meltdown?"

"Perhaps. Or he caught a bug over the weekend. I've got no idea, Micky, you're his mate. I just think it's weird how Plisetsky was off all week, and then Otabek, and now even the teacher isn't showing up."

"And Emil." Michele supplied.

Leo nodded. "Yeah. And Emil."

Michele turned back around, eyes looking in the general direction of his text book but not focusing on the words. A horrible feeling had lodged itself in the pit of his stomach and he wished he had asked Emil what was going on with him sooner. Fuck, if he was having trouble at home, Michele wouldn't have minded him crashing at his and Sara's place. Once the two of them had turned 16 they had rented an apartment for themselves to get out of the foster system and had plenty of room to spare.

He would wait for a couple of days, and then he would go to Emil's house and ask his parents what was up. Emil's father gave him the creeps but he would tolerate that for the knowledge that his friend was okay.

Without the usual arguments, gossip and snide remarks towards the teacher, the class was eerily calm. It was a breath of fresh air when JJ started talking about himself to Minami too loudly and Mila told him to shut the fuck up, accompanied by a pen flying in his direction. Giacometti had glanced up from his book, nodded as if he understood Mila's actions, and promptly went back to the novel he was using to distract himself. He didn't even bat an eyelid at the sight of Seung-gil sleeping at his desk again.

"This is so weird." Guang Hong said. "I almost want someone to start flipping tables. When was the last time the class was this quiet?"

"God, way back. You weren't here yet. There were seven of us: me, Michele, Sara, Emil, two girls called Sam and Leah, and a boy called… Jake? Jason? Something like that."

"James." A voice piped up, and Sara turned to face them. Michele followed suit until the four of them were crowding around one table, work long forgotten. Giacometti either didn't notice, didn't care, or was also asleep at his desk at this point. Leo snapped his fingers at her and nodded.

"Yeah! James, that was it. He was a fucking weirdo. Anyway, in the space of a week the class sized halved 'coz there was a spontaneous police dog search and loads of people in here got busted for possession. They were sent to, like, juvie or schools that were specifically designed for "problem kids"." He demonstrated air quotes around that phrase and rolled his eyes. "So it was just the seven of us. The two girls were both 18 and actually managed to pass their entry exams so they went off somewhere else. JJ and Otabek were brought in sometime during their transition. This was… God, what, four years ago?"

Michele nodded slowly, resting his chin in his palm, listening to the old stories. So much had happened since then that they had almost forgot about that echo of peace within E2.

"No-one knows what happened to James." Sara frowned. "He was taken to hospital after collapsing one day. He was severely anorexic and his heart stopped." She shrugged, looking sad for a moment. Then the expression was gone. "Then Yuri, Mila, you and Minami. Seung-gil was the most recent. Hence why no-one knows much about him."

Sara didn't bother lowering her voice for that last part; Seung-gil was dead to the world, and besides, they weren't too sure if he knew enough English to understand. The rare occasions he spoke were with a very thick accent, yet he always seemed to be listening in. It was unnerving.

"Gosh." Guang Hong fiddled anxiously with his pen. "That's… a lot." The rest of them nodded in agreement.

Despite the conflicts within the class, they all had the same fucked up connection that set them far, far apart from the rest of the school. A mutual understanding of what it was like to be considered the worst of the worst, insufferable and plagued with issues that sent teachers running and kept other kids at a distance. You didn't volunteer to cover E2; you crossed your fingers and prayed for any other option. You didn't walk past an E2 student in the hallway; you turned around and found another route to your class. A school of three thousand, and every single one of them held the same opinion about those eleven students: you didn't go anywhere them.

That was part of the reason why they had come to tolerate Nikiforov. The man was like a carpet stain: they didn't like him, but he wasn't going away any time soon. And they could grudgingly admit that he was making a difference. A few of them were scraping passing grades in math and English, which usually sounded like less than the bare minimum, but for them it was a god given miracle. Attendance rates were only 'unsatisfactory' rather than 'completely unacceptable'. Yuri hadn't got into one physical fight with JJ for weeks.

Of course, there would always be issues: Seung-gil still slept through class, Leo dissociated at every opportunity available, Minami maintained his refusal to take his ADHD meds. It was no secret that the majority of them self-harmed. Many had shitty home situations. Otabek didn't talk and Mila relied too much on alcohol and weed to get through the day.

But they showed up at 9am and stayed until 3 now. They had stationary, attempted their homework, contributed to class discussions with only minimal threats and swearing. There was no longer the sense of a ticking bomb in the class and someone was only one wrong move away from making another explode. No-one else had ever managed to accomplish something like that, but it seemed Nikiforov had done the impossible.

Michele sighed. There was a sense of calm inside him, a quiet and restful feeling that felt foreign but appreciated. However he couldn't swallow the dread that clung to the inside of his throat, refusing to let go, forcing him to keep his mind on Emil and look back on all the warning signs that he had missed.

He hoped it was just useless anxiety. He hoped that his friend would walk through the door at any moment, all smiles and jokes, holding himself tall in his 6-foot glory and laughing about anything and everything.

But his brain forced him to think of the despair in his friend's eyes that was always masked by humour, the concerning jokes that he had made, the cries for help that Michele was too selfish to acknowledge.

He hoped he was just being paranoid.

He really, really did.

This is the train journey towards the end my dudes. It's been a wild ride and I've loved having you all here with me along the way. (But don't worry, several more chaps still to come!) Thank you all so much for your comments thus far, every single one has inspired me to keep writing:^)
Leave a review if you liked it! It really helps me out :^) also join our rp group and chat w/ me
love yall