Thank you so much to Hearts' Abyss & The Kindly One for beta reading this chapter.

12

The Sylvan Classes

Morning found Yuuri nauseous from nervousness, even though the heavenly scent of morning dew melded with the petrichor and pervaded the air. Despite Victor's repeated assurances― "You'll be fine. Lilia isn't going to expel you because you made mistakes in her class."―Yuuri's complexion was still tinged with a hint of green.

"That depends on how many mistakes I make, isn't it?" Yuuri replied weakly. "I've never been good enough for her and now I have to dance in front of the whole class…" He buried his face in his hands.

"If it's any consolation to you, the class isn't overly large." Victor patted Yuuri's head as though he were an overlarge puppy. "Lilia wants to give each of her students the proper attention they deserve, so she only allows a maximum of six students per class."

"Does Lilia arrange another slot for the other skaters' ballet classes, then?"

"No, Lilia is a tad too intense for most of our members … so they opt for the other ballet instructor, who also doubles as Guang Hong's skating coach."

Yuuri clutched his stomach as his nausea worsened. In other words, Lilia's class is for the elite—but I'm at the very bottom and the slightest mistake will rescind my right to participate in that class.

"Yuuri, are you all right? Here, drink this." Victor handed him a glass of water.

After thanking Victor and gulping the water in a few desperate mouthfuls, Yuuri asked, "So, who else will be taking Lilia's class with me?"

"I'll be there with you." Victor took the empty glass from Yuuri's hand so he could set it down on the nightstand, but his fingers lingered against Yuuri's skin for a protracted moment before they withdrew. "And then there's also Yurio, Georgi, Chris, and Otabek."

Yuuri recalled that those four, along with Victor and J.J., were the best dancers during the ballroom lesson. It was understandable that someone of J.J.'s nature wouldn't be comfortable under Lilia's disciplined teaching … but being compared to five of the troupe's most talented dancers was certainly not a cheerful prospect, either.

The ballet lesson that morning turned out to be held in the most unique setup Yuuri had ever laid eyes on. The stagehands had assembled interlocking panels to form the portable dance floor and installed portable barre on opposite sides of it. Since there were no bystanders in the forest, there was no need to conceal the makeshift dance studio with a marquee. Thus, for the first time in his life, Yuuri was going to have his ballet lesson on a rectangular patch of brown flooring in the middle of a lush clearing. The view reminded him of his childhood fantasy, where dancers were summoned to the court of the sylvan elves, and this thought cheered him immensely.

However, just as Yuuri had begun to assume that everything might be all right after all, another trial awaited him. The sight of Victor stretching in white tights would not give him peace, whether it be in his mind or his loins. With every alluring flex of those gorgeous muscles, Victor's voluptuous buttocks beckoned him and Yuuri longed to caress every part of his lover. When Victor lay flat on his back and extended both legs skywards, how Yuuri wished those thighs were against his torso while he thrust himself into Victor's tight heat!

'Nononononoooo!' Yuuri tore his gaze from his lover and proceeded to do his own stretching routine. He had to think of something—a rotten chicken carcass infested with maggots, maybe, or the drunken elders in his hometown dancing with comical paintings on their stomachs—anything would do, as long as the mental image did not involve Victor!

When Yuuri eventually calmed himself, he abruptly realized that it had been wrong of him to assume that either Chris or Victor would be the best ballet dancer in the class. If anything, that title belonged to the youngest member of the troupe: Yuri Plisetsky. As he stretched, leaped, and turned on the portable dance floor, Yuri enchanted every onlooker with his sylph-like grace. It was plain to see who would stand under the spotlight as the troupe's lead when Victor eventually retired. Although Lilia bestowed her attention equally amongst her students, Yuuri had a hunch that the younger Yuri was the apple of her eyes. It seemed as though there was glint of loving care in her eyes whenever she corrected the teenage boy's posture.

Nevertheless, Lilia was not the only one who showered Yuri with affectionate gazes. Otabek did too, although he only did so whenever Yuri was not looking in his direction. Yuuri wondered if his love was unrequited, since young Yuri did not seem to treat Otabek any differently from the others. Otabek himself danced with vigor, every movement the very definition of masculinity. If Yuri's fairy-like grace brought the wonders of far-off fantasies to mind, Otabek's inspired adventures from epic sagas. Behind him, Georgi danced by the book—flawless in terms of its technicality and precision, but otherwise emotionless in its execution. It made Yuuri wonder if his spurned romance had inflicted that much damage upon Georgi's lonely heart.

When the class concluded and Yuuri immediately rushed to Victor's side, he could not pretend that the way the white leotard clung to Victor's lower half had no part in his haste. He was about to make small talk when a hand fondled one of his buttocks from behind, startling him.

The surprised yelp Chris earned from Yuuri caused the whole class to turn around and stare at them. Lilia nearly dropped the disk she was removing from the gramophone when she had ascertained the cause of Yuuri's exclamation. "Would that your sensibility be on par with your dancing, Christophe Giacometti!" she sternly rebuked, after Chris had delivered his apology before Yuuri and the entire class.

When Lilia left, Chris apologized to Yuuri once more. "Yuuri, I'm really sorry. I went too far with my jest in hope of catching a glimpse of Victor's jealous expression. And, well, seeing how you danced ballroom before, I believed there was a fair chance you'd grope me back instead."

"It's fine, Chris—truly it is. But why would you wish to see Victor jealous in the first place?"

"He had never been possessive before, but he clings to you at every available opportunity. Victor has always been a perfect role model for other skaters, since he's always smiling and never appears to be nervous, but he has turned into a more and more of a spoiled brat since you came. Naturally, I wanted to see if he could be angry, but…" Chris stealthily glanced at Victor, whose expression remained indecipherable, before continuing, "Anyway, I shouldn't have used you to achieve my aim. Yuuri, if there's anything I can do to amend―"

"You owe me no further apology. After all, I should be ashamed for causing such a ruckus." When a thought crossed Yuuri's mind, he groaned aloud. "Now everyone will be annoyed with me for doing something like that. Lilia may even reconsider taking me as her student!"

"Surely not! You're an excellent―I repeat, excellent―dancer! Yuuri, my dear, your tour en l'air could no more be deemed abysmal than Victor Nikoforov could be ugly."

Yuuri chuckled a little. "I still required corrections during the class, mind you."

"And so did everyone. Besides, Lilia corrected you less than twenty times in one full session. That in itself is quite a feat."

"What do you mean? You and Victor were both corrected less than ten times."

"After years of practice, Yuuri. Look at you! It hasn't even been a week since you joined us, yet you've been admitted into the top ballet class and received less than a quarter of the corrections I received when I first joined at the age of fifteen."

Yuuri blinked, unable to form a verbal response. How could being compared to Chris' fifteen-year-old self make him feel better? Besides, Yuri Plisetsky was obviously the best ballet dancer at the age of sixteen. Before Yuuri could voice his thoughts aloud, Chris had left with a wink and a lightsome wave. When Victor's eyes narrowed at Chris' retreating back, Yuuri suspected that rousing Victor's jealousy might have been easier than Chris initially envisioned. With that thought in mind, he hurriedly tugged on his lover's arm and led him in a different direction.

The students left for refreshments, but they were to return within fifteen minutes for their next lesson, joined by the rest of the skaters. On their way back, Yuuri and Victor passed a rectangular wooden enclosure that was less than a foot high. Around its perimeter were the stagehands, who were busily attaching triangular brackets that acted as supports for the detachable boards. To one side lay a folded heap of white fabric that Yuuri believed was the liner for an ice rink.

"We're finally going to skate!" Excitement filled Yuuri to the brim, so much so that he even forgot about being in plain sight as he hugged Victor.

"Not 'til early in the evening, I'm afraid," one of the stagehands told him with a genial chuckle. "The water needs time to freeze."

"Then we'll be skating under the stars!" Yuuri grinned even wider. It had been years since he'd had the luxury to indulge in such an experience, and the anticipation only made him feel giddier inside.

"Quite the romantic, aren't you? No wonder our Victor is so smitten with you!" The rest of the stagehands laughed good-naturedly and, although Yuuri felt a light blush making its way up his cheeks, he continued clinging to Victor's doting arms.

###

The stage dueling lesson turned out to be every bit as ridiculous as Yuuri had envisioned, with cardboard sword fights, theatrical falls, exaggerated twists and turns that exposed each fighter's vulnerability to their opponents' attacks, and much more nonsense besides. They formed two groups—two fighters belonged to the first group, while the rest fought as a mob. Every three minutes, they took turns to swap in and out of the first group. Despite having no love for the melodrama of stage dueling, it was a necessary element in the troupe's shows, which was the only reason why Yuuri endured them. At least stage dueling was a weekly and not a daily lesson; it made it easier for him to last the hour.

After the lesson, Yuuri took another peek at the ice rink. This time, fewer stagehands were present, so it wasn't terribly difficult for him to see that the liner was already in place and was currently being filled with a mixture of glycerin, ether, nitrogen peroxide and water from many a copper pipe. It was this solution that froze water when the air temperature was above zero, according to one of the stagehands.

The next lesson, combat survival, took place after lunch. Like stage dueling, the lesson involved a continual rotation of partners, but it retained none of the earlier theatrics or lightheartedness. Yuuri found himself mercilessly pounded into the ground by every skater, even those with a smaller stature or who were of the fairer sex—for although Kouki had an extensive range of martial arts spanning the likes of judou, karatedou, aikidou, kendou, or kyuudou, Yuuri had never shown any interest or aptitude towards them during his childhood. Endurance through the persistent throes of painful practices, coupled with an obligation that condemned him to bear the burden of fatigue was not something he would willingly indulge in. The miserly hours he had today left him with perilously little time to learn much, let alone enjoy anything about the lesson. While none of his opponents used their true strength, being nothing more than a glorified sandbag for nearly two hours made him yearn for the solace of the ice rink all the more.

"Yuuri, is all well with you?" Victor rushed to Yuuri's side as soon as the combat instructor had left.

Yuuri nodded in response, but felt a peculiar urge to shake his head so he could have an excuse to pull Victor toward him and cling onto the older man for the rest of the afternoon.

What is the matter with me? Yuuri questioned himself. He had never felt this way toward his family and friends in his hometown. It was one thing to cling to Victor's arm when his lover offered it, but to initiate the skin contact himself… Could one night of physical intimacy with Victor alter him this drastically?

"There's still time until the ice rink is ready. Shall we take a walk with Makkachin?" Yuuri asked, attempting to distract himself with the question. Then, with a sudden burst of confidence, he took Victor's arm in his own even before the older man had said "yes."

A wide smile graced Victor's lips. "Wow, Yuuri… Which spirit has imbued you with bravery and allowed you to initiate such a gallant move?"

Yuuri simply leaned his head against Victor's shoulder in response, reveling in their closeness as they walked back toward their tent to fetch Makkachin. They passed Guang Hong, who paused in his animated chat with Leo to blush at their intimacy.

Since they were going to walk through a forest and not farmland, they did not bother restraining Makkachin with a leash, allowing her to trot happily alongside them instead. Yuuri was grateful that the poodle was not instigating a boisterous chase, for his fatigue had not fully receded from his body yet.

At the distant sound of babbling water, Makkachin veered to the right in pursuit of its source. Victor and Yuuri willingly followed her, as they had no particular destination in mind, but followed at a far slower pace than the excited dog. With every meter they ambled, the sound grew louder, until the trio eventually found themselves standing at the gravelly bank of a swollen river.

"I've never seen a bridge like that before." Yuuri pointed at its beam-like deck, which was composed of long, thin stone slabs propped on well-worn rock piers. As he stepped closer to examine the structure straddling the rapid water, the pebbles crunched underneath his shoes. Seung-gil's shoes, Yuuri reminded himself. He had tried to return them to their rightful owner, but Seung-gil had convinced him to keep them until Yuuri could obtain his own pair from a cobbler.

Oblivious to Yuuri's tangential thoughts, Victor explained, "That's a clapper bridge. You'll see quite a handful of them in this country. This one must have been built centuries ago, when the water level was far lower than it is now."

Yuuri cast a longing gaze at the bridge. The piers were submerged beneath the currents, save for the topmost portion connected to the bridge's deck, and those stones, dappled with watery patches that shimmered under the sunlight, appeared to be slippery. Even so, he wanted to traverse it despite the risk of ruining his borrowed shoes—or worse, incur a sprain from failing to maintain his balance … not to mention pneumonia, should calamity descend upon him and force his hapless body into the river.

"It may be best if you take off those shoes," Victor spoke, as though he had read Yuuri's mind.

Yuuri blinked slowly at Victor. "You aren't going to forbid me from stepping onto there?"

Victor shook his head, something mischievous and wild flickering in his eyes. "On one condition: Makkachin and I must also cross the bridge with you."

Removing his shoes from his feet, Yuuri remarked, "I see you have faith in your swimming ability."

"It's the one thing I'm confident in, apart from skating and sleight of hand." Victor removed his own shoes, too.

"Are you certain that your most notable forte isn't your seduction techniques?" Yuuri quipped, nudging Victor's shoulder with a languid smile.

Pinching the counters of his shoes together with one hand, Victor solemnly replied, "My seduction skill is history."

"But your supposedly defunct skill is still working, even as we speak."

"Oh, so it dares to make you an exception without consulting me first?" Victor wiggled his eyebrows and allowed a silly grin to grace his features. "In that case, I shall have a word with it. Now, where is it hiding? Is it here?" He kissed the side of Yuuri's forehead. "Nope. Here, then?" He kissed Yuuri's cheek. "Still no. What about here?" He aimed for Yuuri's lips, but Yuuri thwarted his efforts at the last moment.

Rather than docilely accepting Victor's kiss, Yuuri angled his face to press his mouth against Victor's throat. He nipped at it, but not hard enough to leave any semi-permanent marks. Awkward questions and discomforting glances from their rink mates were to be avoided at all costs.

"You do love my neck, don't you?" Victor giggled.

"The fault lies in that gorgeous neck for tempting me at every available opportunity," Yuuri replied as casually as he could before meandering closer to the bridge.

The clapper bridge was not wide enough for two abreast and, truth be told, Yuuri was glad that Victor had not opted to cross the bridge first, as it spared him the embarrassment of being caught blushing at his lover's complacency. Upon taking the first step onto the bridge's beam, though, Yuuri found himself shivering from the cold stone beneath his bare foot. However, the dulcet sound of water passing beneath him was enough of a distraction for the small discomfort, allowing him to brave another step forward and advance. Even so, the stone bridge was treacherously smooth from centuries of intermittent use; hence, he took his time, carefully picking out one foothold after another. Knowing that Victor and Makkachin were at his heels lessened the pall of terror whenever he stared into the cold water that threatened to submerge them whole.

Much like the embankment whence they had come from, the opposite side abounded with trees and shrubbery. Both Victor and Yuuri wiped their wet feet with the largest leaves they could find before slipping their shoes on again. Nevertheless, when they had wandered from the clutches of clingy brambles and espied a hamlet in the distance, they wordlessly retraced their steps back toward the river.

Midway, Victor halted in front of a large, slate-gray rock that barely reached his chest. The jagged rock possessed a cavity large enough to accommodate a child, but was definitely too small to fit the description of a grotto. In a fit of childish merriment, Victor crouched down and settled himself in that alcove—yet, even with his back pressed against the rock's wall, he still could not fit all of himself in there. As a result of this, his shoes were jutting out rather awkwardly from the rock.

Yuuri bent down toward him and asked, "What are you doing?"

The reply Victor gave him was a melodramatic one, accompanied by a furrowed brow and soulful gaze. "Who goes there? And why are you out on so wretched a night as this, fair traveler?"

Victor's love of drama has returned, Yuuri told himself, before he decided to play along anyway. "I'm naught but a wanderer seeking shelter until the weather lessens."

"Do come and join me, good sir. You look famished. I would gladly break bread with you—but alas, not even the smallest crumb can be found on my table."

"Fret not, o fair man o' the hamlet. No victuals could satisfy me better than your very own kiss."

Bracing himself on the rock wall for balance, Yuuri kneeled on the ground and leaned forward to grant Victor the kiss he had previously denied his lover. The stark contrast between the hard ground beneath his knees and the soft flesh of Victor's lips urged him to continue their contact longer than propriety would allow. He noticed Victor gasping for breath, but pursued his mouth again once Victor had refilled his lungs.

Every last one of Yuuri's nerves seemed to catch fire as Victor's lips molded against his, soft and demanding. Generally, he was inclined to cringe at the word "explosion," for it triggered the sad memory of his hometown's annihilation, yet Victor's activities had bestowed it with a new meaning in Yuuri's mind. He could never get enough of the explosion behind his eyelids and inside his chest whenever they kissed; as soon as it ended, he was seized by the visceral urge to reconnect with his lover so that they could ignite the sparks together, over and over again.

He was relishing in Victor's moan when a sudden pain stung his left index finger. "OUCH!"

Yuuri drew back at once, eyes zeroing in on his throbbing finger. He examined the rock and was dismayed to see a red ant crawling near the spot where his finger had been.

"We must seek help this instant!" Victor sprang from the rock, unceremoniously yanking Yuuri by the wrist as he rushed back towards the river.

Victor immediately dipped Yuri's stung finger in the icy water as soon as they reached the river. "Are you all right? Do you feel nauseous or dizzy? What about your breathing? Is there any chest pain at all?"

"Victor, calm down. It's an ant's bite, not a scorpion's."

"The damnation that stung you could be a fire ant! If left untreated, its bite can swell into a white pustule that lasts for days and leaves a scar if you scratch it!"

Yuuri gulped as his forehead beaded with sweat at the imagery. With a graceless stagger, he hauled Victor to his feet and headed towards the bridge with a worried, "We'd better make haste, then."