Take it. Everything.
The music flew out of the speakers like a flock of doves.
Agape. Unconditional love. Yuri's heart thumped with every note. He let it move him. His back arched as he looped across the ice. God's love. Or the love of a parent.
His breath danced in the air and fragments of his soul floated up into the lights. The doves rushed past him showering the ice in snow-white feathers. Yuri could feel himself slipping, his control was faltering. The room swirled around him. Combination. Axel. step sequence. Yuri poured himself out, he left nothing. The grief that he had held so heavy in his heart was finally escaping. He was free and he was flying. He spun with his head tipped up, the ceiling disappeared and he lost himself in the stars. The rink around him transformed into a small clearing in the woods. This was the ice his mother skated on, the ice that raised him. Fear was not absent and it rattled his chest with every gasp for air. The only thing keeping him moving was the fact that he didn't care. He didn't care if he failed, he didn't care if he fell, he didn't care if his neck snapped or his heart failed or his career went up in flames.
I'm on borrowed time. It doesn't matter what happens. Yuri Plisetsky should have died months ago.
And he had. The person on the ice now was unrecognizable. He skated in a way that held nothing back, in a way that left nothing to the imagination. He flew into his quad toe loop with both arms raised above his head.
If I come down on this ice so be it. I'll go down fighting.
He closed his eyes tightly and let his body move purely by memory. His skates kicked up ice and it flashed like shards of glass in the light. The music signaled his combination and his heart faltered. His toepick caught the ice and sent him flying into the air. For a second he thought he would never come down. He'd just drift away. Gravity pulled on him and his skate bounced off the ice with a crack. He twisted into the triple flip and let his mind wonder as he spun.
They sent me flowers.
A bouquet the color of blood. Blossoms that would only be beautiful for a second; how fitting. He wasn't paying attention and his ankle rolled out from under him. He sprawled onto the ice. Pain grew up his leg in thick vines. He climbed to his feet and glided out of the faltered combination. His ankle throbbed with every heartbeat. He grit his teeth. A rolled ankle was nothing compared to the throbbing in his chest. It was nothing compared to the comments and the criticism. He prepared for his quad lutz.
I'll make them see. I'll make them understand what they've done even if it's the last thing I ever do.
His feet left the ground and he fought to hover there forever. He couldn't focus on any of the faces around him as he passed them but he could feel them there. His Agape. They were all there.
This is where it ends for me. This is it.
He was sure, so sure that he would not be stepping off this ice. Heaven would come to collect him and he would be gone. That would be alright. It gave him a chance to fight back. His heart roared.
I am the ice tiger of Russia. I am a champion. I will go down a champion.
He skated without hesitation and with both arms raised. Tears leaked from his eyes and took the makeup with them as they fell onto the ice. He flung his arms out and embraced them all. He could see it from above; he watched himself perform from the rafters. He knew what would happen after. He would be covered and driven away. His grandpa would be there and his friends would be there and maybe even his mother. They would lower him into the ground and leave flowers on his grave. Mila would cry and Beka would run. He would run and run and might never stop running. But there was nothing Yuri could do to change that. There was nothing to be done. Yuri would become a memory; he would be preserved like a photograph on this ice until the end of time. He spun, pulling his leg up behind him.
Here lie Yuri Plisetsky.
His back arched and he reached up higher.
Held in our hearts forever.
The spin was over and Yuri knew he was running out of time. His heart beat with Agape and when this song ended so would he. His body was shaking and his legs were weak and fragile. Only a few notes to go.
I didn't mean to hurt him. Can you see that now? Can you see I'm sorry?
Yuri loved skating. He loved the sound skates made when they cut across the surface of a freshly smoothed rink. He loved the way the air was cold in his lungs and he loved the way his feet hurt after a long day of practice. It hurt that he would never see it again; ice so smooth you can see your reflection in it. He wanted to hold on. He wanted to be there to stand on the podium at the Grand Prix Final. He wanted to walk the streets of Paris with Beka and see the Eiffel Tower lit up at night. But… something inside him knew. He was gone the second he stepped onto the ice. He felt himself coming to a stop. He could make out a few faces in the crowd.
I'm going to miss them.
Agape's final note rang out like the shriek of a flatline. The audience was silent. Lights flickered in front of his eyes like snow. He looked up and the light grew bigger. All at once everything erupted. The crowd was cheering, the sound rolled over Yuri and a smile tugged at his lips.
I did it!
He laughed. He'd done it. All the work, all the preparation, it meant something. This is what they would remember. Not the crash, not the gossip, this.
Yuri felt himself sway. His lungs burned for air but he was too tired to breathe. He fell. His back was cold, that was the last thing he felt. His arms were stretched out at his sides and his hair surrounded his head like a golden halo.
I am Yuri Plisetsky, Russia's champion and junior gold medalist, nothing can take that away from me. Nothing.
Yuri's eyes closed. The murmur around him grew into a roar. And then there was screaming.
"Yuri!" Victor shouted as he sprinted onto the ice. His coat flapped behind him as he dove to his knees, kicking ice up behind him as he slid to Yuri's side.
This was how it should have ended. Fate was finally catching up.
"Don't worry, Yurio, help's coming." Victor's words were directed at the young skater but Yuri couldn't hear them.
He was already floating away.
A.N: I made it back- sort of. I don't think I'm the same person I was two weeks ago. This was going to be an easy ending, a happy ending. Well... I guess not anymore. Don't you just love a good cliff hanger? "She wouldn't do that! She wouldn't kill Yura! He's fine!" Are you sure? Do you know me well enough to finish this chapter with comfort? hmmm. Interesting. Did you feel it in your heart when you realized he might not be coming back? Do you still feel it? He could push away the hands trying to help him and get up, he could not. Why should he get up? What would he fight for? Everything? Nothing? I guess we'll just have to wait and see...
I will reply so if you have strong feelings be my guest and express. I know this was short and sweet but it was dense. MORE TO COME. As always, I Can Never Tell.