Please keep in mind this is an AU- characters may be slightly different because the interactions will be different! I'm trying to keep as true to character as possible, while going with this idea I saw in a youtube comment lol

What if Victor was the one who was the student, and he was being coached by a very successful Yuri? How would that success change Yuri, and the frustration change Victor?

All characters are still in the same places except for Yuri and Victor! Enjoy!

Hands gripped the guard rail of the rink, pale blue eyes watching the figure as he danced around the cold ice in front of him. It was like watching a summer breeze, his movements smooth and graceful in a way he'd yet to achieve. How did he look so relaxed, so fluid as he glided across the ice, as if he had always lived on the slick surface below him. He wanted to be like him… he wanted to be that shining light on the ice, to make people marvel and be entranced by every movement he made!

But it was never enough… he rushed things, forgot steps, changed his program at the last minute and made mistakes when he got flustered. Even now in the Grand Prix, he had forgotten to kick his leg forward high enough before going into a spin, making it into only a double… and it had cost him enough points he was last. He seethed with his frustration, his colorful glittering uniform a stark contrast to the black emotions within him.

"Victor, how many times have I told you?" His coach growled down at him in his rough voice. "You forgot the moves again, didn't you? You have to remember the routine, Victor!" He hissed angrily down to Victor, who looked away, his mood only darkening further with the scolding.

He felt eyes on him, looking over to see a familiar form walking toward him, and it made Victor freeze on sight. He was looking right at him.

"Nikiforov." Yuri smiled softly, his Japanese accent tripping on his last name a bit. "You have potential, just-" He was called away by a reporter who wanted an interview, the gold metal of the Grand Prix hanging around his neck.

"Ah, whatever." His teammate growled from beside him. He was dressed in his typical attire of street thug meets ice rink. Chewing on a leftover stick from a sucker he'd eaten before the show, he glared over to Victor. "Next year I'll be competing." He grinned wryly, his green eyes flashing with competitive ferocity from under his golden bangs. "And there's only one Russian who can get the gold."

Victor gritted his teeth and glared at his teammate, looking over to Yuri again as he was led away by reporters. His heart skipped in alarm when Yuri's dark eyes turned back to them, and their gaze met for a second before Yuri chuckled at something a reporter said, rubbing his neck anxiously as he answered. He was always so quiet and humble… why? He had won the gold again, achieved something some skaters only dreamed of! Why act like he was just an amateur trying to win people's affections?

His forgetfulness plagued him at his next event, tripping over his skate so he skidded to a knee before the end of his routine. He cursed himself on the inside as he raised his arms and smiled out to the audience, gliding back over to the exit and wringing his hands through his silver hair anxiously as he listened for the score. He didn't do well. It was just too competitive, and he was frustrated… maybe Yuri was right, maybe only one Russian would stay on the team to get gold… but it wouldn't be him. He couldn't seem to help himself, he felt like he was missing something. He wanted to figure out what it was… how to fill the strange void he felt in his routines. He had to figure it out… had to find out what he was missing!

The idea came to him as he watched youtube videos of Yuri's championship routines. He had won all five gold medals, and when they had interviewed him at the table he had just smiled and laughed, tilting his head as he always did when put in the spotlight, a slight blush on his cheeks. He seemed like a totally different person on and off the ice…

Yuri could help him- he knew it! He always seemed so flawless in his routines, his every movement fluid but with purpose. But he was so busy with his own training… there was no way someone like him would help him, when would he have the time?