Hi, its me again! Can't believe I left you all hanging for another two years. I should stop promising to be more regular because its jinxing everything! Once again, I had a first draft of this chapter completed in the summer of 2019 but then I got busy finishing my masters degree, COVID lockdown made me lazy, and then I started job hunting and moving back home - those are my excuses this time.

Anyway, this takes place around the same time period as the last chapter, but from Victor's POV. Hope you all enjoy!

"Victor, no!"

"Victor, yes!"

Victor smirked and put his hands on his hips, looking between his two companions, "I don't know why either of you are giving input; I've already made up my mind."

And with that, Victor turned around and exchanged 500 Swiss Francs for the gaudiest pair of odd-framed, pink-lensed sunglasses ever.

As they headed towards the doors of the shop, Victor snapped them open, put them on his face, then turned to his friends. Christophe immediately bursts out laughing, clutching his chest. The young man beside him wasn't amused though.

"That was such a waste of money."

"Oh, come on David," Victor said, still smirking, "They're not that bad."

"They're silly."

"They're designer." Victor corrected, but he took them off anyway.

It had been a while since Victor had done this; just had fun with a couple of friends. Even during the off-season, he was usually practicing as hard as ever, and any time off the ice was spent on studying or media-related commitments like interviews and commercials. His injured knee had given him free time he wasn't used to and, if he was honest with himself, free time he wasn't sure he actually liked. It felt odd to wake up at 7AM in the middle of May and realize that, while his skating equipment was meticulously packed by his bedroom door, he wouldn't actually be taking it anywhere. Applying for university, studying and testing took up time for a little bit and searching for music for the upcoming season provided a nice distraction from his overall boredom, but Victor still couldn't deny that most of his days were spent restlessly pacing his apartment or reading.

Starting physical therapy, then, was a godsend for the young man and Victor felt his spirit rise with every day that the pain in his knee lessened. When Yakov gave him the all-clear to return to the Club and get used to the ice again – complete with the assurance that he would watch Victor like a hawk to make sure he didn't try anything risky – Victor couldn't stop himself from giving the older man a massive bear hug. Victor's desperation must have shown through loud and clear because Yakov's first words once Victor pulled back were, "Relying on the ice alone isn't healthy. Have fun."

So as soon as August rolled around, Victor took Alexei's advice to heart and asked Christophe Giacometti if he had a spare bed at his family home in Geneva.

As the three young men left the glasses store and headed down the Rue de Marché, David looked over to where Christophe was now merely chuckling to himself, "Now I know why you were so excited to have this Russian friend come visit. He's just as nuts as you are."

Christophe rolled his eyes, "Hey, there's nothing wrong with being silly every once in a while. I can't believe you haven't learned that with how many years we've been friends."

David snorted at that, "I think being friends with you in particular has made me want to be the furthest thing from 'silly', if only to keep you from doing stupid things literally all the time."

Victor couldn't help but smile, "I think you'll have to thank Coach Karpisek for taking on that role during the season. He's probably the only reason Christophe hasn't gotten arrested yet during the down-time we get at competitions!"

"As if Yakov doesn't do the exact same thing to keep you from joining me!" Christophe protested, "Don't gang up on me with him!"

As Christophe raised his voice in mock indignation, a young woman passing by looked in their direction. Then did a double-take. Victor could almost feel what was about to happen as a smile broke across her face.

"Excuse me, are you Christophe Giacometti and Victor Nikiforov?"

As Victor nodded, he saw Christophe stand a little straighter and puff out his chest a little, and he couldn't help but laugh internally. The younger boy was clearly still not used to being noticed on the street, and it was amusing to see him swell with pride and excitement. Victor could remember when he reacted the same way after he won his first European Championships and gained a lot more attention.

"I'm sorry to bother you," the woman said nervously, "Would it be too much to ask for an autograph and photo?"

"Not at all," Victor said, "We're not in a rush and would be happy to pose for a lovely lady like yourself, right Chris?"

Christophe nodded and the woman relaxed slightly, fishing a small camera and notepad out of her handbag and handing them to Christophe, who then handed them off to David. Victor didn't see why she was so anxious speaking to them in the first place, but he may as well help ease it. She didn't look much older than he was.

"What's your name," he asked, smiling.

"M-Maria," she said, blushing, "I can't believe I ran into you…just…on the street! You're amazing skaters."

"Thank you," Victor said graciously, "Do you skate?"

"No," Maria shook her head, "I just love watching the sport."

"Well thank you for your support!" Christophe said as he walked up and shook her hand. He winked, and she ducked her head in clear embarrassment.

Victor rolled his eyes. Don't tease the poor girl.

"How's this?" he asked, moving to stand beside her for a photograph. He put his arm around her shoulders and Christophe did the same on her other side. She put her arms around their waists and Victor could feel Maria shaking a little – with excitement or with nervousness, he wasn't sure – as David raised her camera and snapped one, two, three times.

"Oh thank you, thank you!" she said, dropping her arms and reaching for the camera, "I can't wait to show my friends that I ran into the Victor Nikiforov and Christophe Giacometti."

She put the camera back in her bag but kept the notepad in her hands. "Can you sign the cover of this as well, please."

"Of course, mademoiselle." Christophe flirted as he took the pen and pad. He scribbled his signature on the notepad, making Victor bend over a little so he could use his back as a writing surface. Maria giggled as Victor then took the pad and did the same to Christophe.

"Don't forget to watch the Grand Prix!" Victor said as he handed the pad back.

"Wouldn't dream of missing it," Maria said. She paused before asking, "What will you be skating to this year."

Victor smirked, "Now I can't reveal that! That would spoil the surprise."

"Fair," Maria blushed again and nodded, "It was nice meeting you."

"Likewise," Victor said.

And he meant it. It was always wonderful to interact with his fans, either in person or through the fan mail he received on a weekly basis. Yakov always warned him not to let the attention get to his head, but it humbled him more than anything. It showed him how inspiring he could be to so many people and after trying to seem more normal with Shousei, he figured it would be just as good to seem more approachable to his fans.

As Maria ran off and the young men continued walking, David laughed, "Being friends with celebrities is weird."

"What? Nah, you get used to it," Christophe said, waving his hand dismissively.

Victor snorted, "Right? As if none of us saw your head inflate as she recognized us. Careful with that ego, it may burst out any day now!"

"Ah shut up," Chris said, nudging Victor, "Like you weren't reveling in the fact she was all over you."

"Huh?"

"Come on," Christophe patted Victor on the back, "You can't say you didn't notice she called you 'theVictor Nikiforov' and, during the photo, she was practically clinging to you more than me. I even turned up my charm and she still blushed harder while talking to your oblivious ass."

Victor snorted, "You call that 'charm'? And I was just being polite."

"Sure you were Mr. Cassanova," Christophe said sarcastically.

Victor huffed, "You know those stories are exaggerated by tabloids. I'm not smooth at all. Flirting with everyone that comes up to us is more your thing than mine."

"Well," Christophe said, running a hand through his locks proudly, "What can I say? People love me! May as well give some of that love back, y'know!"

All three young men laughed at that and fell into a companionable silence. Victor's mind raced over the details of their interaction with Maria though. The way her freckled face shone and her blue eyes lit up whenever he had said something to her. The way her hands trembled when she posed with them for the photo. Had she been fawning over him, really? He definitely picked up her excitement and nervousness at being face to face with two people she clearly admired, but anything more than that went straight over his head. If she was attracted to him then, well, he took it as a compliment. But it wasn't completely mutual. He could acknowledge that she was pretty, but Christophe was wrong about him reveling in the idea of a pretty girl liking him simply because he didn't think he liked girls like that anymore. Or at all, if his last attempt at a relationship with one was anything to go by – six months was enough for him to come to terms with the fact that he found his comfort at the rink more than from being in the arms or bed of a girl. Ksenia hadn't judged him too much for it, surprisingly, but she had been hurt it had taken him that long to figure it out. And Victor hated hurting people. A part of him still nagged at the back of his mind saying she just wasn't the right girl, but it's call had dimmed as the years had gone by and no other girl caught his attention or interest in the same way he thought Ksenia had when she'd first cornered him after practice to confess that she liked him. No other girl…

Victor looked over at where Chris had begun chatting with David and felt a slight twinge in his chest.

~ * ~

Victor woke up on the morning of August 28 to soft sunlight and a sharp cry of annoyance.

"You bastard!"

As Victor slowly opened his eyes, he spotted Christophe storming out of their shared bathroom in just a towel, pointing furiously to his own face.

"Look what Austin did to me!"

At first, Victor sighed. He supposes this is what he gets for sharing a room with Christophe instead of agreeing to take Lukas' room and let the two brothers share. Peaceful mornings just didn't seem to be a thing in the Giacometti household. But then he actually propped himself up on his elbows to look at his friend…and was immediately glad that Christophe had woken him. Two large, black circles were traced around the blonde's eyes, filled in so that the color reached to the edges of his eyelids.

He looked like a raccoon.

If it wasn't for the pout on his friend's face, Victor would have laughed loudly. Instead, he just stifled his giggle with a yawn.

"Did you wake up to that?"

"Yes!" Chris huffed, "I'd been texting the stupid limey last night before we went to bed and must have forgotten to put on my patches before falling asleep. The sonofabitch noticed and decided to mess with me."

"And that's why I'm glad I'm not a Marker," Victor said, yawning again, "Have you asked him to remove it?"

"Duh!" Christophe threw his hands up and rolled his eyes, "He laughed and said he was bored. Sick at home. Not sick enough to not leave the Sharpies alone and not draw on his own face to torture his soulmate, sadly."

Victor finally laughed, "Well I guess you're stuck with it. It doesn't come off unless he removes it from his own skin, right?"

"Yeah, but you can't expect me to go out in public like this! I'll look ridiculous!"

"You mean more ridiculous than usual?" Victor asked coyly and braced himself as Christophe stepped forward to push him roughly back on the bed. "Just wear sunglasses."

"For the whole day?"

"Yeah!" Victor said, "You can pretend to be my bodyguard while we're in Courchevel. I'll need help with the media circus."

"Not unless you're paying me for that service," Christophe shot back, rolling his eyes, "I'm not going to spend the whole time fielding cameras and questions just so you can go find your soulmate."

Victor frowned. Of all days, he needed Christophe's support on this one. He'd been dying to meet Shousei since they'd properly started talking and a year was a long time for someone as impatient as him.

"Oh come on! Why not take the opportunity? He said he was going to be there."

"Yeah but you told me he's also a nervous kid. Ran away from your bond once too. Maybe I should be his bodyguard for the day…"

"That won't be necessary," Victor said quickly.

A small smile grew across Christophe's face, "Afraid he'll like me more than –"

"On second thought," Victor interrupted loudly, "Maybe we should keep our distance. Wouldn't want to scare him off again, after all."

And with that, he hopped out of bed and avoided Christophe's now-victorious smirk as he opened the door and marched downstairs.

No, he didn't care that he was still just in his boxers.

~ * ~

Unlike the Senior Grand Prix series or Worlds, Junior Grand Prix events didn't attract thousands of people or get widespread media attention, so the streets of the Courchevel 1850 weren't as packed as usual. Granted, a ski resort town in the summer wouldn't be packed with tourists anyway, but it still eased Victor's mind that he might still be able to enjoy himself here without attracting tons of attention. A few people wrapped up in their light winter coats glanced back at him and Christophe as they left their hotel, La Pomme, and headed for the Patinoire du Forum but neither of them were approached until they got closer to the rink.

"Ohmygod, what's Victor Nikiforov doing here?"

"Does he know any of the skaters here?"

"Or maybe he's scoping out the new generation?"

"Is that Christophe Giacometti beside him?"

"Yeah, I think it is. What's with the sunglasses"

"Maybe he just doesn't want to be noticed? Fat chance of that, standing beside Victor."

"Maybe he's hungover?"

The speculation continued as the boys made their way into Forum and more people noticed them. They had some time before the competition actually began so they made their way towards a small café and shared a pizza between them. The whispers continued throughout their small lunch and Victor barely held back a snort – followed, inevitably, by Christophe hissing "shut up" – every time the sunglasses were mentioned.

"I can't help it!"

"You'd better learn to help it," Christophe muttered, "I swear I'm getting my revenge on Austin, one way or another."

"Well, you can think of your evil schemes while we watch the short program," Victor assured him, "Maybe you'll be inspired by some of the performances."

"Victor Nikiforov!"

The new voice directed Victor's attention to a man heading towards them. He had a recorder in his hand and Victor straightened in his seat at the sight.

"Victor," the man said again as he reached their table, "I'm André Perreault, journalist for International Figure Skating magazine. What are you doing in this small town? Senior skaters don't often come watch junior events."

Victor answered with a well-practiced smile, "I just thought coming to watch an event while on holiday would do me some good. Looking at the performance of the future generation of skaters will help motivate me in the development my own skills."

"Ah, is your focus on any skater in particular? I'm sure anyone would love to have you support them."

My soulmate, Shousei, he thought.

"No, no," Victor said, "I don't think it would be healthy to play favorites with anyone."

Behind Victor's back, he could see Christophe mouth 'liar' at him. Victor kicked him under the table in response. The blonde at least had the awareness not to yelp loudly, but he doubled over.

"That's understandable," André agreed, completely oblivious to the pain of the teen behind him, "So are you definitely competing this season? Is your knee healed?"

"Yup," Victor smiled, glad he could finally say it, "I've already chosen my music for this season and will get straight to developing both programs as soon as I get back to St. Petersburg."

André nodded and turned to Christophe, who had recovered, "Ah! Bonjour Christophe, comment ça va? Comment était votre service millitaire?"

"Difficile," Christophe switched to fluid French with a sigh. Victor had to admit he loved hearing the language on his friends' lips, "Je pensais que j'étais en forme avant…!"

"Donc c'est la même chose pour vous, ici?"

"Pourqoi pas? Et je garde cet idiot loin des ennuis, tu sais?"

André chuckled and Victor frowned. He didn't know French but he did know the word 'idiot'.

"I can't exactly say its easy to be a friend with a miscreant like this." Christophe said in English, smirking.

"I need to learn French so I can stop you spreading rumors about me." Victor said, folding his arms. "If you're calling me an idiot, should I tell André about your mishap this morning? It's a juicy story."

Victor couldn't see Christophe's eyes, but he could see his flushing cheeks.

"Uh…" He glanced up at André, who now had a curious gleam in his eyes, but the man waved his hand dismissively.

"Don't worry, this is just a casual conversation that doesn't have to go out to the public," André winked, "I imagine it has something to do with the ink showing just beneath the rim of your sunglasses though?"

Christophe gaped, and then turned to face his friend, "Victor, I hate you."

"I know."

"Anyway," André continued firmly but jovially, "The short program is set to start in 20 minutes so I have to go. You two enjoy your day."

The food on the table didn't last much longer so the two boys ended up leaving the café not too long after André anyway, and followed the building map and signs towards the ice rink. As they approached the unassuming doors that would take them rink-side and the familiar draft of an artificially-chilled room wafted towards them, Christophe grabbed Victor's arm.

"Don't get all moody if your mate didn't come after all, or decides not to talk to you, right? I know you're excited but…"

"Got it," Victor rolled his eyes. He wasn't obsessive. If Shousei didn't want to interact with him, he was fine with that. He'd just enjoy the show and hold onto the fact they were both in the same room together. They didn't have to be side by side or face to face for their immediate companionship to mean something.

Besides, the rink wasn't too full so he'd be able to see Shousei if he did a quick scan. He hoped. Yakov once laughed at him for thinking he would just know when he saw his soulmate, like there'd be some kind of electricity or intuition that would alert him when he laid his eyes on them. It was an antiquated, romantic myth but dammit, Victor was a romantic. He thought he had felt something when he'd first met Yelfim at 15 years old, but everyone had just written that off as giddiness from the first meeting of soulmates. Still, it didn't hurt to dream…

As they took their seats, listened to the official announcements, and watched the first group of young boys take center ice for their warmup, Victor pressed two fingers to the wings on his wrist.

'Shousei?'

Silence answered him, so he decided to use his eyes to search for his soulmate. The stands across from them were peppered with people of all ages; many mothers who had come to watch their sons compete, sisters and brothers and friends cheering the skaters on. A few of them looked like they could be Japanese, so Victor spent more time raking his eyes over them to see if maybe he could recognize Shousei, but he knew it was no use. Without any clear physical description or confirmation through their bond, Victor knew he wouldn't be able to spot the boy. He sighed.

"Hey," Christophe nudged him in the side, "Moody."

"Right," Victor shook himself and focused on the ice below them.

The first few skaters to take the ice were quite young – barely 13 from the looks of things – with wiry bodies that still seemed a little unsure of what they were being made to do. They skated well, Victor could see that, but the way they swayed their arms and steadied themselves after each double jump told him they still needed to grow in more ways than one. One boy, Michal Březina, gained a few more cheers once he stepped up and Victor quickly learned why. Once his music began (Victor recognized it as the jazzy classic 'Sing, Sing, Sing' and couldn't stop himself from bobbing his head to the melody) the boy skated with an obvious air of confidence and amusement. His spins needed work but his jumps were high and his choreography was expressive.

"I think we've got another showman on our hands," Christophe whispered, "You'll have to fight to keep your spotlight in a few years."

"Gladly," Victor said. If Michal's potential was met and they did end up together on the senior stage, then he would gladly look forward to the competition.

He applauded Michal along with the rest of the rink when his turn ended. As expected, he came in first with a score of 60.32.

The boy that came after him, in contrast, stared firmly at his boots as he made his way towards the rink's center. Victor's ears perked up at the announcement that the boy, Yuuri Katsuki, was from Japan and he briefly considered if this was the friend that Shousei was rooting for. If so, then it felt respectful to pay attention to him as well.

The boy looked up and the expression on his face steeled into one of concentration as he entered his starting position: left leg crossed in front of his right, both hands crossed in front of his face. Soft notes blossomed in the air and he began to move. His costume flattered his slender frame, with the black pants and an asymmetrical top colored a beautiful robin egg blue with smatterings of white glitter, and Victor nodded to himself in the thought that it just worked. He didn't recognize the song, but it spoke of relaxation and flight in a way that fit the bird flying across the ice before him. Katsuki skated with very clean edges and a sureness in his steps that didn't seem like they belonged to the nervous boy who had shuffled his way to center ice a minute before. He tensed for a moment before taking off into a triple axel. Victor saw immediately that he wasn't going to land it securely and, indeed, the boy almost stumbled upon touching back down on the ice, but soldiered on into another small sequence that seemed to erase the minor smear the mistake put on his performance. He popped his next jump, the triple lutz, but landed all his others cleanly and skated on through a strong step sequence to close out the program.

It was beautiful. Flawed, but beautiful.

Victor hadn't lied to André when he'd said that watching the junior skaters would motivate and inspire him. He had fully expected to come across some pieces or choreography that would give him new life for the upcoming season. But as Katsuki bowed and the audience clapped, Victor also felt like he just wanted to see Shousei skate more than ever. If his friend could show this much talent, then what was his soulmate capable of?

Victor couldn't wait to find out.

And the wings on his wrist remained as cold as before.

So there's the chapter. Victor watched his soulmate skate without realizing it was him, but he liked it! He's definitely going to have questions for Shousei the next time they talk!

Victor's reflection on his short journey to realising his sexuality should come with the disclaimer that I am completely straight, so I hope I made his feelings and initial confusion in his youth sound somewhat realistic. I should also say that while this series is trying to be as realistic as possible, I firmly subscribe to the YoI creators' belief that "in their world, love is love" so will not be including any homophobia. These characters deserve to be happy and I'd rather not add them getting bullied for their sexuality for the sake of angst.

The Rue de Marché is a high street in Geneva and, yes, I did look up the 2008 average cost for a pair of designer sunglasses.

La Pomme and the Patinoire du Forum are both locations in the Courchevel ski town dubbed '1850'. La Pomme is a hotel and I chose it because it was the closest hotel to the Patinoire, which is an entertainment center best known for its rink.

This is Andre and Christophe's conversation, translated into English:

"Ah! Hello Christophe, how are you? How was your military service?"

"Difficult. And I thought I was in shape before...!"

"So are you here for the same reason [as Victor]."

"Why not? And I keep this idiot out of trouble, you know?"

Swiss men have mandatory military service and I had Christophe do it in the Spring/Summer of 2008. Its usually done at age 18 but I had Chris do it at age 17 because you can technically be considered an adult at 16 in Switzerland with your parents' backing and him being an athlete might allow him special circumstances.

As stated in the previous chapters' notes, Yuuri gets Bronze in this event overall, but doesn't do well enough in his other events to make it to the Finals.