Otabek dug his skates deep into the ice, scarring the surface with a tight spiral.
The tall man halted his large frame, breathing like a marathon runner as the crowd cheered. His song, "Night on Bald Mountain, ended with the rise of revelers applauding his free skate program. Clapping melded into a jovial buzz during the standing ovation the audience gave him. White polyester stretched on Otabek's costume while he reared his head up, scanning the arena around him.
His program went without a hitch. As he got older, Otabek knew the limits of his skating. His elasticity was lower than even two years ago, and he found even middle difficulty flips to be taxing on his legs. He had to change his programs to focus more on speed and height and less on agility.
Fortunately, the judges had been kind to him so far.
Despite the relative ease of his performance, the only way he could get a high score was to perfect the program. Otabek spent at least eight hours a day for six days a week to make his routine as flawless as humanely possible. His lungs starving for air, he lassoes oxygen back into his chest.
Seated on the white sofa at the kiss-and-cry, he nodded as the yellow lights lit up his score on the jumbotron above the ice.
190.42
Good enough for second place so far, Otabek thought.
Currently, J.J. stood in first place, skating a breathtaking rendition of Coldplay's "Viva La Vida" in the background. Otabek saw the serious expression on his face as he did his final quads. He was a technical marvel, but there was something about his skating and the way that it matched the song that made Otabek feel sad for him. When he looked up at the stands after the performance and flashed his hand insignia, his face collapsed from his fake smile to a small frown. Otabek followed his eye line and saw an empty chair in front of center ice. Disappointed, the Canadian skater sulked towards the kiss-and-cry and barely celebrated his new personal best score. Otabek made a note in his mind to not be so standoffish with him in the future. He did not want to hurt his feelings anymore than they appeared.
An aging Christophe swayed his way to third. The tall Swiss man was in good spirits, but he shook his head leaving the ice. His time on the ice was nearing its end, and Otabek knew he wanted to finish his career at the Grand Prix Finals. With the Cup Of China left on his roster, he would need at least a medal performance to make it in.
Michele Crispino took a nasty plunge onto the ice in the middle of his program, a fast-paced samba to some Brazilian song. With a surprising gold at Trophee de France, however, Michele could afford a fourth place if the rest of the pack faltered in Skate Canada.
With a good showing at Skate Canada, Otabek felt confident that he should qualify for the Grand Prix Finals. Zipping up his olive jacket, he rose to his feet and traversed the walkway towards the stands. He waved in a curt motion at the crowd, who roared in appreciation at the curtain call.
Yuri was the last person in the men's free program, and nerves twinged inside Otabek like branches swaying in the wind during a rainstorm. He massaged his chest in a rare display of outward anxiety as the announcer began to announce the standings and the next skater up. Nearing his chair, Otabek turned his head and spied Yuri at the edge of the ice.
Yuri had remained quiet and to himself the entire day leading up to his final skate. When he first walked into the stadium in Fukuoka, he shrugged off the reporters and ignored his fans as if they were ghosts floating out of site in the walkway. He flung his hoodie onto his head, bounding past the crowds until he reached his locker room. Otabek saw him and tried to get to him, but Yuri slammed the door and locked it. The Khazaki man thought of knocking on the door, but the image of him trying to get to Yuri from a locked door would look very bad in front of the cameras.
Yuri's eyes were slanted, peering at the ice like a surgeon examining a patient. Leaning on the ice-rink his diamond-encrusted silk ebony suit, the smaller Russian skater stood in his skates as the ice was cleared quickly for him. A few members of the audience rushed to there seats. From the corner of his eye, he saw Victor grow in size before standing next to him on the edge of the ice.
The glow of the ice reflected off his steel eyes, cold and calculating as he glared at the ice like it was his worst enemy. The ice that he was so accustomed to controlling, ordering around like a lion tamer had come back to punch him in the gut. The frigid surface showed back his tired, empty face and mocked his misery. His face was paler than usual, and the layer of concealer he layered on his face flittered away every time he rubbed his eyes with the pearly gloves covering his delicate hands. Even his hair, neatly swaddled in a small bun and angel braid, refused to remain straight with tiny tufts sticking out from the crown of his head.
Hot blood coursed through Yuri's veins. He could spit at the ice with disgust.
Victor slapped Yuri on his shoulder, awaking him from his daze. Yuri whipped around and brushed away Victor's hand like a martial artist blocking an attack. Victor took a step back, his face twitching from the curt response.
"Didn't mean to scare you," Victor said.
Yuri rolled his eyes and growled back. "I wasn't scared. I was concentrating."
Victor sighed and yanked up the oregano tie swirled around his neck. He forced a smile before resting a limp hand back onto his shoulders.
The buzz of the people in the audience evaporated into the cold air as they stood alone next to the ice.
Yuri flinched again. Victor's touch seemed to gentle, almost loving as he squeezed his shoulder. Yuri only mustered the strength to keep his gaze at his level, gazing past Victor's eyeline, uncomfortable with looking him in the eye. The last thing he wanted to hear was criticism about his performance or tips about getting a higher score. In essence, Yuri's brain circuited over the past few days. At this point, he was far past grief or anger.
With the skating world holding its collective breath for Yuri's free program, Victor ransacked his mind for any comforting words to say to his skater. His vocal chords remained dormant, his touch being the only message given to Yuri as he avoided Victor's eyes. Words were useless to both of them at the moment.
Victor squeezed Yuri's slim shoulder again and nodded his head. "Postaraysya"
Yuri shifted his gaze to Victor's ice blue eyes. The Russian phrase brought a small wave of comfort to Yuri. With all of the people he dealt with during the day, the language jolted his mind and stopped his train of thought. He forgot just how out of place he and Victor were sometimes.
Without another thought, Yuri nodded and shoved himself onto the ice. He circled around the center logo on the rink, twisting his ankles and snaking around in place like a dreidel. Yuri didn't care about skating for gold or even placing. Those hopes appeared to be dashed barring a new world record performance. He craned his head up and examined the crowd in front of him.
There was Otabek, giving Yuri a quick thumbs-up. He wanted to skate against him at the Grand Prix Final.
A few rows up, Yuuri had his arms crossed, his anxiety at seeing Yuri obvious with his upright seated position. Isabel was more relaxed in the chair next to him. Her olive wool sweatshirt stood out in the crowd of conservatively-dressed Japanese fans. She looked at Yuri down on the ice, examining him like an ant crawling on the ground. A placid expression rested on her face as neither her nor Yuuri shared any words.
Yuri could not help but feel a bubble of a laugh escape his mouth. Both Victor and Isabel shut up for once would normally be a dream come true.
Saxophone seethed out of the speakers. Yuri pushed himself forward to begin the performance.
"An Englishman In New York" began to play in the arena, putting Yuri in a trance. The song remained fitting to him. The loss that he felt was different this time. When he first skated this program, he felt lost about his place in Detroit. He still felt that way, but the loss thumping his head with the guitar strum of the song was one he had not felt in a while. The program was supposed to be easy for Yuri, almost comical in it's simple-mindedness.
Snaking around the ice, he elevated himself. His first jump.
The ice crunched underneath him as he slid forward past the jump.
Double Salchow.
Victor shook his head to himself. It was supposed to be a triple.
"You can hear it in my accent when it talk. I'm an Englishman In New York."
Yuri felt the breeze float past him as he went for a double axel. He gasped as he felt his muscles tense in midair.
A single.
The crowd murmured around Yuuri and Isabel. Yuuri felt his fingernails dig into his pillowed armrest. That jump was supposed to be a double.
Otabek narrowed his eyes. Crossing his large arms, he bit his lip while Yuri thrusted himself into a midline step sequence.
"He's cheating everything," Otabek said to himself.
Yuri traversed the long tundra with his arms flickering in air. Yuri had less and less energy with every stroke of his white skates. His grandfather was in the hospital, and he had no idea what to do about it. Yuri felt more lost than before in front of the massive audience. Why were his legs not working properly?
Breaking out of a quick crossfoot spin, Yuri pushed himself along the sidelines.
It was then that he saw it.
Yuri saw the red door to the ice, slightly open from Otabek leaving earlier. The narrow opening invited him like a lighthouse bringing a ship to harbor.
A small inkling grew in Yuri to simply skate into the space of the door and exit the ice.
This program is useless, Yuri thought. It won't be enough for the podium. There's no point in embarrassing myself anymore. There's nobody behind me. Nobody to fight for.
Spying Victor from the corner of his eye, he looked back down, his face forming a red blush in shame. Victor doesn't care. He just wants to win with me. All of that talk about Agape and unconditional love was just him wanting more medals.
Victor sprinted from his spot and bolted around the edges of the ice. He ran as fast as he could to where Yuri was escaping. Victor knew what that look meant. It was a look that he saw many disgruntled beginners on the ice wear when they decided to give up. His coach credential pass swayed in front of him with every large step he took.
He can't give up, Victor thought to himself. Even if I have to lock the door before he gets to it, he can't just leave us.
Passing Yuuri on the ice, he swallowed as the door drew nearer. Yuuri hates me. He's only in this for Victor. The moment this ends, he's kicking me out and I'm back to Russia.
At this point, his lithe body began to slow from his stride. The ice crunched underneath him as he began to recede in velocity.
The door was only a few feet away.
The surprised yelps from the crowd stabbed Yuuri in the spine as he realized the problem at hand.
Yuuri began to panic. He gasped and leaned ahead of him, almost falling into the row underneath him.
No way, he thought. Is he giving up? We put in all of these hours, and he is going to give up? His career is over if he leaves the ice in the middle of a performance.
Yuri skated past Otabek, whose mouth hung agape as he understood what Yuri was conjuring in his mind.
Beka doesn't deserve a friend like me, Yuri heard himself say in his head. I've never done anything for him. Isn't that what friends are for? Just people you can ask favors from? That's what Grandpa said to me once.
Finally, he spotted the bright sweatshirt and the girl that was inside it. She leaned forward with Yuuri, struggling to understand the severity of the situation.
Isabel. That girl he met in Detroit.
That girl with a smile that never disappeared except for now.
That dumb blonde girl that annoyed him to no end with her stupid jokes or her stupid blind optimism or her love for such a shitty place like Detroit.
That beautiful girl that was with him not for fame or money, but because she actually found something valuable in him outside of skating.
We can't be together, Yuri thought. I made a mistake. We aren't meant to be. She's real and pure. I'm just an angry skater who can barely speak English. She cares about other people. I hate other people. I'm going to mess this up between us. I'm going to find a way to break her heart. The moment this is all over, she's going to go off and become an amazing chef. I'm going to be a nobody.
I can't do this anymore.
Yuri flashed his skate on the ice one more time as his arm reached out by itself to the door. Once he grabbed the top of the wall, he could just pull himself over and end his time on the ice.
He slowed to the speed of a new skater thrashing around the ice for the first time. It was almost over.
I don't have any agape left, Victor, Yuri thought.
"Proschay," he muttered to himself in an unconscious fashion.
He reached for the door.
Like a lightening bolt, Victor appeared right next to Otabek. He was too far from the door to slam it on Yuri's desire to quit.
Otabek stood up next to him, his eyes wide with shock.
Yuuri and Isabel shot to their feet, standing tall in the crowd of seated patrons.
Like a telepathic connection, the standing group felt a surge of energy shoot through them like a zap of electricity. None of them could physically stop Yuri from leaving, but they knew what they had to do.
In a simultaneous shout, they cupped their hands and directed their shouts towards the door.
"Davai, Yuri!"
Yuri perked up, a quick gasp filling up his lungs.
They're still here, he thought. They haven't abandoned me yet.
He jerked back his arms and clenched his fists.
Digging his skate into the ice, he propelled himself like an energized runner past the exit. In fact, Yuri took his fist and punched the door shut.
He raced past Victor and Otabek. A match was lit in his chest, and it fell into a vat of gasoline, transforming a small flare into a massive wildfire inside him. Yuri knew that Victor and Yuuri had all the time in the world to gather Isabel and leave the ice, afraid of seeing the disaster that he was from embarrassing himself further. Otabek could have simply stayed in place, never saying a word as he saw his competition leave the ice.
He had an opportunity to fail, and they refused to see it happen without a fight.
They wouldn't have done that if they wanted me to fail.
Everything Yuri thought about the others disappeared and resolve replaced it. Yuri bended his knees and launched himself forward to greater speed.
If Victor only cared about the money, he would never have comforted Yuri in any way. He would not joke with him or drive him places or ask him about his day in school.
If Yuuri only cared about keeping Victor happy, he would never have cooked Yuri all of that food and ask him about his day at school. He would never have helped him study for things like math. He would never let him live with him rent-free.
If Otabek only cared about competition, he would never have called him on his birthday and try to get him with Isabel.
Isabel. She would never have spent hours on end studying with him or talking about her life with him. She would never laugh at his lame excuses for jokes or blush every time they made any physical contact. She would never have the patience to hold him when he heard about his grandfather.
Yuri may be losing his grandfather, but there are still people worth skating for.
Yuri grew warmer, more light as he relaxed his muscles. His agape, his grandfather, vanished from the back of his mind. As he skated his emotions, new faces popped into his head. New people to skate for.
Victor. Yuuri. Otabek. Isabel.
Yuri slammed himself into a Bielmann Spin and leaped out of it a supersonic two-foot spin. The world rushed by like a hurricane as he etched tight circles on the ice. Faster. The banners with his name on it in Cyrillic and English blended with his fan clubs blonde wigs. The faceless crowd remained mute to him as the world disappeared in a mush of vibrant violets and pinks.
This is my Agape, Yuri thought to himself. I don't need to find another source of inspiration. Another source of passion. They are right here.
Releasing from the spin, he regained his footing and zoomed across the ice. Suddenly, his brain switched back on the noise. He noticed the hyper crowd mixing with the depressing song. The music melted back into his brain, making him feel as light as the low fog that sneaked through Downtown Detroit every day from the lake.
The saxophone solo began.
Yuri pushed himself around like a snow flurry and whipped into a triple toe flip.
A combination with a triple lutz. He nailed it.
The crowd cheered again as he skated past Victor.
Victor blinked a few times, the tears barely staying in his eyes. The lightbulb finally exploded in Yuri's head, and he was skating with more emotion and energy than ever. There was a flame that burned in Yuri's eyes, and the resolve in his expression made Victor want to cry with joy. Yuri found another reason for skating, and the fact that he was at least a small part of it made him shake with happiness.
Another jump completed. There was no screw ups this time.
His lithe body flung itself into the air, the desolate sound of the saxophone covering for the lost scratches on the ice. Weightless. Yuri felt like the world was beneath him with every jump.
The crowd exploded in applause when Yuri landed the quadruple loop. He wasn't cheating anything else. The entire second half of the program was the pure Yuri Plisetsky, It was as if he was a new skater, reborn and ready to slay the rest of his competition.
The last segment of his program confronted him like a dragon waiting to be killed by a handsome night. He felt like he had to do something big. He had to show off and prove how good he was. Simply following the blueprint by Victor would not do anymore for him. He wanted this performance to be special. Not for Victor or Yuuri or himself.
As he skated around the ice for his final segment, he glanced up. There she was, smiling from ear-to-ear. She held up a thumb, mirroring Otabek and Yuuri.
Even his fans began to do the same thing, chanting "Davai" while holding their thumbs up.
Yuri could not help the small smile that grew on his face.
In the heat of the moment, Yuri bolted down to center ice. He wanted everyone to pay special attention to what he wanted to do next. The song entered its final segment, he remembered the panhandling drummer on the street on his way to school. The rhythm the beatings made on the narrow, cracked sidewalk electrified his heart like a defibrillator.
All of the anger, frustration, and isolation at losing his grandfather gave way to the fire in his chest. The joy of finding people to unconditionally love radiated off of him as he buckled his knees, ready for the final assault.
Yuri pursed his thin lips together, blinking away a bead of sweat from his eye. He leaned his body down slightly and sprang up from the outside skate edge behind him. Spinning in the air, his arms closed deep into his chest while he held his breath. His form had more confidence than ever, even more than at Skate America.
Yuri nailed the ice with the outside edge of his skate.
A quadruple toe flip.
Yuri charged forward. He went up again and twirled for a triple axel spin.
Victor laughed to himself. He turned towards Yuuri in the stands.
Yuuri held Isabel close to him, as if he was sheltering her from the inevitable fall. However, they were both hopping up and down with support for Yuri.
Yuri landed it, but his foot slipped and he stumbled for a second. His knee just scraping the ice, he got back up and charged onward. \His fans waved Russian flags while hugging each other, celebrating the sudden turnaround.
Yuri, still oblivious, clenched his teeth and took another deep breath. He had never done it before, but he would nail it this time. He wanted to wipe the stupid smirk off his face. Both of their faces. He would smack Victor right in his teeth for all of this pain he went through. He deserved it for dragging him to that awful city and being the awful coach that would let him stay in his apartment for free and ask about his day.
"Be yourself, no matter what they say," the lyric whispered in the air.
The skates scarred the ice one more time as Yuri flung himself into the air. He cut through the sky like a twister, the aching in his legs giving way to the bliss of zero gravity.
Pulled down to earth, Yuri braced himself for whatever came next.
The skate slammed onto the ice like two attracted magnets. Yuri's arms stayed firm as his balance remained intact.
A quadruple lutz. Perfect.
"I'm an Englishman in New York."
Yuri finished the program with the scheduled triple flip and loop combination he was supposed to do earlier. Nailing the jumps, he circled around the rink for a few seconds. As the music ended, he mentally told his ears to prepare themselves.
His final pose was his arms crossed defiantly underneath the giant scoreboard. He tried his best to not gasp for air, taking in short, measured breaths through his slightly parted lips.
The audience went insane. His fans were in the midst of a section-wide heart attack, jumping up and down hard enough to shake the rafters above. The rest of the crowd waved banners and posters of him around like a matador egging on a bull.
Victor was hugging Otabek, who allowed the strange man to grope him. Both of them were smiling as if they had won gold.
He accepts us, he thought. He accepts us as family.
Yuri looked over at Yuuri and Isabel, his gasps still loud enough to be heard at the kiss-and-cry.
Yuuri held Isabel even harder. He was driven to the point of tears as he understood the message Yuri delivered with his skating. Their shouts of encouragement to Yuri was the boost he needed.
Things are going to feel weird when we get back to Detroit, Yuuri thought to himself. He laughed off his nerves and looked down at Isabel. We'll get through it.
The power of Yuri's comeback was not lost on her. She had both hands on her chest with a small, innocent smile resting on her face. It was the kind of expression someone had when a gift was given or good news was received. She was awed to no end, and Yuri was the object that she could not tear her royal blue eyes from.
When their eyes met, they knew what the skate meant. As Yuri drew nearer, both Yuuri and Isabel shook off the loud crowd and barreled down the stairs. Yuri saw them, and a new wave of excitement flowed through him. It gave him the energy to race to the edge of the ice and meet them.
Victor and Otabek saw where they were converging and decided to join in. They ran over to the spot.
Yuri smacked himself into the wall and reached out his arms.
Isabel flung herself into his arms, and she grabbed him around his waist.
"Davai," she whispered in his ear.
Yuuri wrapped his arms around the pair and hugged them as well. As he made contact, Victor and Otabek joined in. Victor slammed himself into the group so hard, they shifted a few feet back towards the kiss-and-cry. Otabek, not one to get emotional, made it over and slowly put his arms around the bundle of bodies, completing the huddle.
The group hugged right on the ice, the crowd going wild as they supported each other. The noise was deafening as people stood up and applauded. A few fans threw stuffed plushies of cats towards the tight group hug. They bounced off their backs, pelting them like a light sprinkle of rain.
Yuri felt the warmth spread through him. The exhaustion of his muscles caused him to buckled his knees, but the group kept him up.
"Sorry," Yuri choked out. "I'm sorry. I'm s-so sorry for everything! I won't ever give up again!"
The despair grew in his voice as his shoulders rocked with the intensity of his cries. Yuri began to collapse from his emotional and physical exhaustion. The group hugged him even tighter as his cried started to drown out the noise of the audience.
Victor, already a slobbering mess, nestled his face into Yuri's hair and chuckled. "You have nothing to apologize for, Yurio. W-we're here... We're here for you."
"I want to face you at the Grand Prix Final, Yura," Otabek said, his breath tickling Yuri's ears. "I want you to be there to skate with me."
Yuuri nuzzled his head into Victor's shoulder, trying to comfort the emotional man. "Me and Victor are here for you, Yuri. We're not just your coaches anymore, Yurio."
Yuri cried even harder at that statement. The feelings that he displayed on the ice were returned.
By all of them.
Finally, Isabel reached one hand up and stroked Yuri's cheek. Yuri looked up. She smiled at him, leaving him in awe at how she could always brighten up his day. They were inches apart from each other in the tight group hug, cocooning them from cameras and social media posts. There was a look of happiness and optimism, but what silenced Yuri's sniffles was the peace on her face. There was an expression, almost a trance that her eyes put him in. A calm comfort swirled in him like he was gazing out at waves crashing into the shores of the Detroit waterfront.
No kiss. No confessions of love. Just a girl giving a soothing touch to her boyfriend.
"Thank you," Yuri whispered to her.
"For letting you be yourself?" she joked in return.
Yuri laughed. This laugh was different than his others, Isabel noticed. It was not a mirthful laugh, or a sadistic scoff. It was a light laugh. A real, honest-to-god laugh. A laugh of joy. He replaced his remaining sobs with the laugh. It was a clear, melodic laugh that sounded like sweet music to Isabel's ears.
The weight on Yuri's shoulders evaporated into thin air. He laughed even louder as he thrusted himself closer to Isabel. He rested his head next to hers, their cheeks rubbing. He silenced his laugh, but the smile remained on his face. Isabel could hear it as he breathed.
"Just...thank you," Yuri whispered. "Thank you, Isabel Flynn."
"And thank you, Yuri Plisetsky," Isabel replied. "Thank you for moving to Detroit."
Nobody in the group knew how long the group hug session lasted, but all members decided it was time to adjourn when the zamboni, used to resurface the ice, chugged closer and closer to them.
Whew! So that's basically the 2/3rd mark of this story. Yes, it is coming to an end soon (of course, the GPF will be the climax), but I'm happy with how it is progressing.
As always, make sure to review and tell me how you feel. It only takes a second, but it gives me the energy to finish this story up. I already have my idea for my next story, and I would like to start it soon.
Basically, my idea is an AU where Yuri, a world-famous ice skater, attempts suicide. He fails and is kept at a hospital where (surprise!) our favorite ice skaters are doctors and nurses. There, Yuri learns about the meaning of life and his purpose in the world and yada yada yada. It sounds really dramatic and depressing, but it's going to be a dark comedy of sorts. Dr. Nikiforov and Nurse Katsuki flirting with each other left and right? Yes, please! I imagine Isabel would make an appearance as well, but I'm not writing it yet. Think that idea is worth anything? That is a motivating factor to finishing, but you are the top priority as the reader!
So what did you think?! You think Yuri did well enough? Did you think he would really quit? How do you think his actions around people will change now that he has accepted new unconditional love into his life? What will happen next?
I'm almost thinking of doing a little "omake" type thing between this chapter and the beginning of the next arc. y'know, just a silly fun one shot, but I'm not sure what it will be about. We will see.
Shout out time:
bstarqueen: Another amazing review. I am so happy I have such a great reviewer that reliably reads my stuff. Thank you from the bottom of my heart!
Despite them appearing to be more accepting, there will still be questions about familial loves role in these character's lives. We would all like to think a big moment like this would lead to happily ever after, but it almost never does. There are still complications, and heads will still be butted into, but that's family for ya!
As far as JJ goes, he will have a kind of big role in this next third of the story. Mainly, i just wanted to see how funny it would be if Isabel became good friends with the one guy Yuri cannot stand to save his life. Don't worry, plenty of hijinks will ensue.
applejack465: It's so weird, because if you just saw the ends of episodes 8 and 11, you would think Yuri On Ice! was the story about a Canadian skater rising from his insecurites. It's so weird the amount of focus put on him, but I actually love JJ for how annoying he is. After all, he never hurt anybody!
SkyeShah: Thank you so much for saying that to me! Please tell me what I can do to continue this being your favorite fic. I try my best for my readers!
Thank you so much! Please review and don't be afraid to recommend this to anybody you know. We are already one of the most reviewed fics in this newly-emerging fandom on this site. I hope we can rocket to the top.
Thank you. See you soon!