Viktor closed his eyes and groaned, bracing himself for the ear-splitting tirade that was sure to spill forth from the Russian Tiger's jaws. He waited for the brash words to hit his ears, anticipating a sharp escalation of his pounding headache but was instead met with steely silence. He cautiously opened his eyes to look at the young skater, puzzled as to why he hadn't laid into him yet. Yura was just sitting there, his unyielding jade stare silently fixed on him, the contempt written clearly on his face. Finally, after what felt like a rather awkward eternity, the tiger opened its maw.
**Conversation between all characters is assumed to be in Russian.
"Do you think you're the only one who cares about him? Are you under some delusion that your life is the only one he's touched? Is your head so far up your own ass that you don't see how he affects others?"
The young man's voice was so uncharacteristically low and steady as he spoke, that Viktor was completely caught off-guard by it. He wasn't prepared to deal with this atypical approach, and just sat there gaping, like some fish out of water. The young man carried on, undaunted.
"Mila is devastated. She just lost an amazing practice buddy. She has learned so much from him recently and pretty much credits him with her gold medal. Georgi is in active mourning, being all insufferably melancholy and wearing black from head to toe. Volkov's in a sour mood over losing the best student he ever had. Hell, even Yakov is grumpier now. He's added another petrified cucumber to the other one that's permanently stuck up his ass."
Viktor smiled wistfully, not missing how the teen had left himself out of the list of people affected by Yuri's departure.
"And you, you lost your best friend after finally having found him."
Yura's eyes immediately narrowed and he crossed his arms in front of his chest, clearly closing himself off to the older Russian man across the table from him.
"This isn't about me. This is about you and whether or not you actually realize how fucking precious Yuri is."
A dark shadow crossed Viktor's face. He could not believe that after having just been through hell and back with Yuri, some immature and naïve whelp was trying to pass judgment on him. He took a deep breath and tried to keep his voice even as he spoke through gritted teeth.
"With all due respect to your ignorance from lack of experience, you should not stick your nose into things you do not understand."
The fury that rose and blazed in the young man's eyes at that very moment was so fierce, that it would certainly have been enough to scorch any human foolish enough to stare into its hellish depths.
"We've been through this exact same shit before! You keep acting like no one 'gets' Yuri like you do, and I'm sick of it!"
The teen smashed a closed fist down on the table, rattling all the dishes and cups on it and causing the salt and pepper shakers to topple over.
"You talk a big game, but you don't put your money where your mouth is. You couldn't even bring your sorry-ass self to fucking hug him goodbye at the airport! You didn't give two shits about what Yuri was going through and how much he was hurting. You…"
"ENOUGH!"
Viktor shot to his feet, his booming voice filling the kitchen and echoing loudly off the tiled walls. The chair he'd been sitting on had been flung backward with the force of the action, and it clanged violently on the floor after toppling over. The adolescent's mouth hung open, frozen in the shape of the last word he'd spoken. He sat in absolute shocked silence, unable to do anything but stare in disbelief. He'd never ever heard Viktor raise his voice or lose his cool before. Hell, he'd never even imagined that it was possible for Viktor to lose his cool. The seconds ticked by in awkward wordlessness as Viktor stood trembling and heaving in the middle of the kitchen.
A few tense moments ticked by before he'd finally managed to compose himself. He was then able to pick the chair up from the floor and sit back down on it at the table. As calm settled over the room once more, and the Russian Tiger eyeballed the older man suspiciously, the outburst having temporarily forced a truce between them. A few moments later, Viktor's voice was the one that pierced the quiet.
"You weren't here when Yuri spent three days in a catatonic episode. You weren't the one trying to feed him shards of ice, pleading desperately…and…and willing to give anything if it meant him coming back to you. You didn't experience the utter helplessness of seeing him in such a condition, and being powerless to do anything about it…all the while knowing that your actions put him there."
Viktor turned to face the teenage skater, clearly exposing the tears streaming down his face as he did so.
"And after having him come back to you, and give you everything you've been dreaming of for over a year, to have the floor suddenly fall out from under your feet…and you're all alone again. You're certainly not the one sitting here, feeling as if you're somehow still not good enough because he's left you behind and you can't figure out why."
For the second time that afternoon, Yura was stunned speechless. The mask Viktor usually wore, that nauseating happy-go-lucky façade he donned for fans and media, was gone. What he was seeing instead was immense pain and raw emotion, two expressions that were very much out of place on Viktor's face. He remained silent, partly because he just didn't how to react or what to say. A few uncomfortable minutes later, however, he couldn't take it anymore and stood up.
"Sometimes people just need to do stuff on their own before they can figure shit out. I get that, I've been there myself. It's how I got to where I am today. I don't know if you've ever been through anything like that or not. Maybe that's why you're having such a hard time understanding where he's coming from."
Viktor listened quietly, not yet fully trusting himself to speak.
"All I know is that he already feels really bad and super guilty about everything, and your hissy fits aren't helping things. Whatever inner shit he's dealing with must be a pretty big deal in order for him to leave, and he needs you to man-up and fucking support him, not make him feel worse."
The young teen walked toward the kitchen door, pausing to look back over his shoulder once his hand was resting on the knob.
"He's in Japan now, by the way. You should let him know that you're not dead or something. Even though he was going through his own fucking personal hell, he was still worrying about your sorry ass."
Viktor hung his head low, his hair serving as a curtain of sorts, hiding the way his face flinched at the new information. He had been so caught up in his own pain that he had completely forgotten to check in with Yuri and make sure he'd arrived safely. His head dropped lower, as if the shame had manifested physically, and the sheer weight of it was pushing it down. He felt an overwhelming sense of guilt, regretful that he'd allowed things to get to this point. Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder, and startled badly at the touch. He had assumed that he'd been alone in the house, so he was very surprised to look up and find Yakov standing there.
"Take everything that you're feeling right now and channel it into your new programs, Vitya. If there's something you want to say, do what you always do…say it out there on the ice. Show everyone…show him the only way you know how."
Yakov lifted his hand from Viktor's shoulder and turned to leave, but then paused to tentatively pat his student on the head a few times.
"There are no shortcuts to any place worth going*. Come back to the rink when you're ready."
And then Viktor was alone once more.
He sat in the stark silence of the kitchen for a while, his mind in a foggy haze. His thoughts and emotions were a mess, flitting about in his head and mixing with the murky wisps of the hangover. Eventually, his stomach began to growl, and he was reminded that he hadn't actually eaten anything in over a day. He got up and rummaged through the cupboards, sighing with relief when he found the powdered electrolyte solution packets in the back. He filled a pitcher with water and then threw them all in, mixing until everything was all dissolved. He poured himself a glass and chugged it as quickly as he could, then refilled it and repeated the action. He hoped that it would get to work on his headache while he made something to eat.
As he rummaged through the fridge, he found the bacon and sausages he and Yuri kept as rewards for extra grueling practice days. He immediately snapped them up, stomach growling in approval. He needed greasy food for his hangover, diet be damned. He fried up the meat and added two eggs to the mix, scrambling them in the bacon grease runoff. His mouth watered as the heavenly scent filled the room, and he had to actually remind himself to make sure everything was fully cooked before diving into it. He plated his recovery meal and then cut up the sausages so they would cool faster. He then separated a few pieces and patted them dry on a sheet of paper towel before placing them in Makkachin's dish. He called out to his canine companion, and soon the kitchen filled with the sounds of doggie nails clicking against tiled flooring. He gave the canine some well-deserved butt, belly and ear rubs in an effort to ease the guilt he felt for having neglected him.
"Go check your dish, boy. I've left something special for you in there."
The canine plodded happily over to his set of bowls, nose lifting to scent the air on his way over. His little tail nubbin' began wagging furiously the second the aroma hit his nose, and he instantly devoured the offering upon arriving at the food dish. He licked the dish until it was squeaky clean, not leaving behind a single crumb. Viktor smiled, happy that his four-legged companion enjoyed his treat. He then turned to his own meal, hoping that it had cooled enough for him to eat it. He grabbed a fork and then dove in, managing to spear a little bit of everything with it. When the fatty meat and eggs hit his taste buds, he practically moaned. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a meal like this, and it tasted so sinfully good. He had a few more mouthfuls before realizing that there was just one more thing missing.
He stood up and walked over to the counter, taking a slice of multigrain bread from the package and popping it into the toaster. While the bread was toasting, he poured himself another glass of electrolyte solution, adding some freshly squeezed lemon to it for a little more flavor. Once the toasted slice popped out, he grabbed it and dropped it onto his plate as he sat back down. He broke off a piece and used it to mop up the tasty grease and leftover egg bits from his plate, licking his fingers for good measure. Once he had fully cleaned his plate, he stayed seated at the table a little while longer, simply reveling in the comfortable sated feeling of being full. He then got up and did the dishes, and finished the remaining electrolyte solution. All the liquid seemed to have finally caught up with his bladder and so she went to the bathroom to relieve himself.
As he entered the bathroom, the smell of stale vomit hit his nose and he nearly gagged. He immediately flushed the toilet and turned on the shower. He waited for the water to get really hot and then used the detachable shower head to spray the outer surface of the toilet bowl as well as the floor. He would clean it all properly later, but for now, he had more important things to do. He walked up to the master bedroom and took a deep breath before turning the knob and stepping inside. It was dark and quiet, so he reached over to flick on the light switch. As he scanned the room, he saw that everything looked exactly like how he'd last left it. The bed was still immaculately made, and the curtains were drawn, blocking out the last bit of natural light left in the day. He took a few more steps, noticing the lingering smell of his deodorant and Yuri's mild cologne. He sighed, resigning himself to his current situation and resolving to face his demons.
He sat down on his side of the bed, feeling the mattress dip to accommodate his weight. Once again, he was struck by how quiet things were. He had grown so accustomed to having Yuri in the house with him that the silence was particularly deafening. He sighed once again and then took his phone out of his pocket, instantly noticing all the unread messages and missed calls. Most of them were from Yuri, but there were quite a few from Yura and even Yakov. He opened a new message window, his thumbs hovering over the keyboard for a few moments as he struggled with what to type.
"This is ridiculous. What am I so afraid of? This is Yuri we're talking about. The Yuri I love and want to be with forever. Writing him a text message should not be this complicated."
Viktor took another deep breath and then physically willed his thumbs to start moving. Once he got started, however, he found it much easier to keep going.
Sent at 19:43
Viktor: Hi.
I'm sorry I was such a jerk at the airport, and I'm sorry I missed your messages and calls. I had a bit of a rough night last night and was… indisposed…today. I'm glad you made it to Japan in one piece. I'm happy that you're safe.
Viktor critically eyed the message he had sent, and decided that it needed one more thing to be perfect.
Sent at 19:46
Viktor: I love you, and I miss you.
_terminology_
"There are no shortcuts to any place worth going" is an original quote from Beverly Sills. In Russian it is: Нет коротких путей туда, куда стоит стремиться (Net korotkikh putey tuda, kuda stoit stremit'sya.)
