NOTE BEFORE READING: This chapter deals with a miscarriage scare and a character death. If you want to be spoiled before reading, jump down to the end notes and I'll summarize.
Chapter 4
Midway into June, Otabek left for Toronto for a week to work on choreography for his new free program with Nathalie Leroy. Mila was supposed to go with him, but she had to cancel last minute when one of her sponsors asked her to model in an ad campaign for a new line of pregnancy athletic wear the company was putting out.
Yuri would have gone in her place if it had been at all possible to avoid spending time with JJ. Sure, over the years, he had grown to tolerate – and on very, very, very rare occasions, even enjoy – socializing with the seven-time Canadian champion, but that didn't mean he wanted to be around JJ any more than absolutely necessary. It didn't help matters that ever since Mila and Otabek announced they were having a baby, JJ had become even more insufferable than usual, tagging Otabek in all his Tweets and 'grams related to Isabella's pregnancy. He'd gone so far to come up with a hashtag for him and Otabek: #IcePapas, which wasn't even that clever (and left a lot of people confused at first, thinking JJ and Isabella had joined Otabek's "harem" – an idea that was offensive on more levels than Yuri could count).
"Oh, for the love of – Have you seen this?"
Yuri held up his phone so Mila could see the photo JJ had recently posted on Instagram. It was a picture of him and Otabek on the ice at JJ's home rink, wearing matching red T-shirts with the words #IcePapas written in large white block letters across the front. Otabek, of course, had that weird not-smile that always showed on his face whenever he was being photographed, but JJ was grinning like a fool, his arm slung casually around Otabek's shoulders.
At least he wasn't doing his stupid "JJ Style" shtick.
Mila giggled. "Aw, I think it's kind of cute how excited JJ is about them becoming fathers together."
She had a strange definition of "cute".
"Dammit, I can't believe some of these idiots still think he and Beka are a couple," Yuri said, scrolling through the comments as Potya rubbed up against his calves. "How many times do we have to explain things?"
"Just ignore it, Yura. They're only trolling at this point."
"But –"
"Sometimes I do wish they had an open marriage, though…" Mila said, twirling her finger around the lip of her water glass. "I always thought Bella was gorgeous. The things I –"
Yuri raised up his palm. "Stop it right there. I'm not interested in hearing about your sexual fantasies."
"Oops, sorry. It's these pregnancy hormones, I swear. I'm just so horny these days, you know?"
"No, I don't, and I don't want to know."
The microwave dinged, signaling that his popcorn had stopped popping. Yuri grabbed the bag and headed back to the couch, Mila and Potya following after him. "Come on, it's about to start."
It wasn't often that he and Mila spent much time together nowadays without Otabek being present, but one of their favorite things to do when the opportunity arose was watch episodes of one of their favorite reality shows, Project Runway, and critique all the creations. It just so happened that the network was running a marathon of the show's best episodes, making it the perfect way to spend the afternoon.
"Oh, I hope they show the Sasha Cohen episode!" Mila said as she settled on the couch beside Yuri, Potya curled up by her feet, and snatched the popcorn bag right out of his hands.
"Hey!"
"What? Baby is hungry!" she mumbled with a mouth full of popcorn.
Yuri rolled his eyes. "You can't keep playing the pregnancy card and blaming the baby for everything, you know," he said, turning the TV to the proper channel with the remote before reaching over to grab a handful of popcorn for himself.
"But the baby is to blame for everything!" she said after swallowing. "I'm a horny, hungry –" She pushed the popcorn back into his hands and stood up, Potya meowing in clear annoyance.
"Where are you going? It's starting."
"Bathroom."
"Fine." He hit pause on the remote.
While she was gone, Yuri pulled out his phone again and opened up the Instagram app. He knew Mila was right, that people were just trolling with their "JJBek" nonsense – who even came up with such idiotic names? – but that didn't stop Yuri from finding his favorite photo from the Olympics, the one where he, Otabek, and Mila were posed in front of the Olympic rings, Otabek sandwiched in between them, and reposting it with the caption: "Ours – and nobody else's!"
At least for now, he mentally added as he stared at the picture. Despite the fact that he had agreed to move in with Otabek and Mila whenever they found a house and help raise their baby, a part of him feared that such an arrangement was doomed to fail, that the idea was just a temporary bandaid before everyone realized it was all a huge mistake...
"Hey, what are you doing?" Mila asked when she came back out, leaning against the back of the couch.
Startled, Yuri pressed his phone against his chest so that she couldn't see what was on the screen. "DM-ing JJ and telling him you want to bang his wife," he lied.
"No, you're not." She sat back down on the couch, once again grabbing the bag of popcorn from his lap. "Stop feeding the trolls. It just makes them hungrier."
"But –"
"Put your phone away, and let's watch the show."
Childishly, Yuri stuck out his tongue, but he did as he was told, setting his phone aside and unpausing the TV.
They were in luck, because their favorite Sasha Cohen episode kicked off the marathon. However, a little more than halfway through the episode, Mila abruptly stood up once again. "Bathroom break!" she announced.
"Another one? Didn't you just go, like, twenty minutes ago?"
"I'm peeing for two now, remember?"
Blaming the baby once again… He rolled his eyes, waving his hand. "Okay, go, go. I'll pause it until you get back."
Yuri reached for the bag she left behind on her way to the bathroom, scowling when he looked inside and saw that it was empty except for a few unpopped kernels. He had barely gotten to eat any of it. Might as well find something else to eat, Yuri thought with a sigh, heading to the kitchen.
He was in the middle of making a turkey sandwich, spreading mustard on a couple of pieces of whole grain bread, when Mila came back out. "Hey, you want a sandwich?" Yuri asked, thinking he might as well offer before she ended up stealing his sandwich, too. "It's getting close to lun—"
"Yura, something's wrong."
Yuri stopped mid-smear and set his knife down on the counter, his heart jumping in his throat. "What is it? Is it Beka…?"
His mind immediately went to worst case scenarios. A concussion? A broken leg? A heart attack? That last one seemed unlikely as Otabek was, by all appearances, in excellent health, but even though it happened before his time, everyone in the skating world knew the tragic story of the legendary pairs skater Sergei Grinkov.
Mila shook her head, bringing her hand to her stomach. "The baby… I'm bleeding," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I-I think I need to go to the emergency room."
Oh, God…
A miscarriage? But she was already past the three month mark. He always thought that meant the risk of that happening was over.
"Okay," Yuri said, trying his best not to freak out. Leaving out the ingredients he had prepared for the sandwiches, he grabbed his keys and walked over to Mila, gently placing a hand on her lower back as he guided her toward the door. "Okay, I'll take you. Everything is going to be fine."
He hoped.
When Mila and Yuri arrived at the hospital's emergency room, they signed in at the front desk, then Mila met with a triage nurse, who determined that her condition was not serious enough that she needed to see a doctor right away. They were sent out to the waiting room, Mila having to talk Yuri down from cursing out the poor nurse who was only doing her job. He settled for kicking a metal trashcan on the way out, muttering profanities under his breath.
"Seriously, what counts as an emergency around here?" he asked just as the automatic doors slid opened and two men walked in, one with an obvious head wound.
"That does, I guess," Mila said as they watched another nurse bring over a wheelchair for the injured man. "Come on, Yura. She said it probably wouldn't take too long before I could see a doctor. Let's just take a seat and wait."
"Fine."
Sighing, Yuri followed Mila over to a couple of vacant chairs in the corner of the waiting room, sitting down and grabbing a two-month old issue of Vogue from the table beside him, although he was too distracted to do little more than mindlessly flip through the glossy pages.
Why was he so agitated, anyway? If Mila miscarried, then everything would go back to normal, and –
"Fuck," he swore softly, tossing the magazine aside and wrapping his hands around the base on his neck, his elbows on his knees as he stared down at the epoxy floors. He was the literal worst best friend in the entire world.
Beside him, Mila sat quietly, wringing her hands in her lap. Every once in a while he caught her biting down on her bottom lip, blinking back tears. Yuri was about to wrap his arm around her shoulders to try to comfort her when a nurse, different from the one before, walked over to them.
"Ms. Babicheva? A doctor can see you now," the nurse said, glancing over at Yuri. "Are you the father?"
"O-Oh, I'm just –"
"Yes, he is," Mila interrupted, reaching over to grab Yuri's hand. "He's my partner."
"Okay, right this way," she said, not questioning Mila's claim at all. "Follow me." She led them to an empty examination room down the hall. "Wait here and have a seat. Dr. Klimkin will come by to examine you in a few minutes."
After the nurse left, Yuri helped Mila up onto the examination table. "Sorry I told her you were the father," she said, grabbing his hand once again. "I-I just didn't want to go through this alone."
"It's okay." He squeezed her fingers. "Do you want me to call Beka?"
Yuri's free hand reached for his back pocket, only to find it empty. Crap! In his rush to get Mila to the hospital, he had left his phone at home on the end table.
Mila shook her head. "No, don't. He's halfway around the world," she said, blinking back tears. "There's nothing he can do right now…"
"H-Hey." He pulled his hand out of her grasp, instead wrapping his arm around her trembling shoulders and pulling her close. "We don't know anything, yet," he reminded her. "It could be nothing."
"But what if something really is wrong?" she asked, her voice muffled in the fabric of his T-shirt. "W-What if I lose the baby? I love it so much, Yura. I really, really do. I know I wasn't sure if I wanted to keep it at first, but…"
Yuri tightened his hold on her, kissing the top of Mila's head. He didn't know what else to say, feeling guilty for his earlier thought. He wished Otabek was here with her instead of him. Otabek was the father, not him, no matter the lie Mila told the nurse.
"Ludmila Danilovna Babicheva?"
A kindly-looking middle-aged man in glasses entered the room, looking down at the tablet in his hand. Mila pulled herself away from Yuri, using her hands to wipe the tears off of her face.
"Mila," the two of them corrected the doctor in unison. Only Mila's parents got away with calling her Ludmila, and even then, only on certain occasions.
"Ah, I thought the name sounded familiar," the doctor said, smiling when he looked up. "You're Mila Babicheva, the Olympic bronze medalist, and you're Yuri Plisetsky, the gold medalist, correct? I'm Dr. Klimkin, and I happen to be a big skating fan. Good to meet you." After shaking their hands, he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I thought Otabek Altin was the father of your baby, though?"
Unsure of how to reply, Mila and Yuri exchanged looks. "Um, Beka's out of the country at the moment," she said, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, "but Yura…"
"It's fine. I'm aware of your unusual nature of your relationship. He may stay if you like."
She sighed in relief. "Thank you."
"So, Mila, I understand that you've been experiencing some vaginal bleeding. Anything else? Any pain? Cramps?" he asked, setting his tablet aside and slipping a pair of gloves over his hands.
"No, that's all. I just saw some blood when I wiped myself and got really scared."
"Well, a little spotting during pregnancy is very common and usually no cause for concern. Chances are, there's nothing for you to worry about, especially at this stage in your pregnancy, but I'll perform an ultrasound to make certain. If you will, lay back for me and pull up your shirt."
Yuri helped Mila lay back on the examination table, holding her hand as the doctor spread some sort of gel on her abdomen. Dr. Klimkin then began rolling the wand over her rounded belly, explaining that he was looking for the fetal heartbeat. Mila's grip on Yuri's hand tightened to the point that she was almost crushing his fingers, but he bit down on his bottom lip, forcing himself not to cry out in pain.
It didn't take long for the doctor to find the heartbeat, Mila letting out the sob she had been holding back when they heard the soft thump-thump, thump-thump.
"Is the baby okay?" Yuri asked, not really sure what it all meant. A heartbeat had to be a good sign, though, right?
Not answering him, Dr. Klimkin continued staring at the ultrasound screen, his face unreadable. Yuri was about to repeat the question with the addition of a few choice expletives when the doctor smiled.
"Everything looks good, Mila," he announced. "The fetal heart rate is well within normal range, and I see nothing to indicate that your baby is in any danger."
"Really?" she asked, swiping her hands over her tear-streaked cheeks. "The baby's going to be all right?"
With his own hand finally free of Mila's vice-like grip, Yuri discreetly hid it behind his back to shake the feeling back to his fingers.
"Yes, the baby looks to be strong and healthy," the doctor assured her. "Do you know the sex yet? While you're here, I can go ahead and tell you if you would like to know."
"We have the anatomy scan scheduled for next week, when Beka gets back," Mila said. "I… I wouldn't feel right finding out when he's not here."
"Understandable. Would you like to still see the baby?"
She nodded, and the doctor turned the screen so that she and Yuri could see, Yuri's eyes widening as he comprehended what he was seeing in the grainy image.
"Holy sh—There's a baby in there!"
Mila laughed through her tears. "Of course there is, dummy! Did you think I was just getting fat?"
"No, of course not! But…"
He'd seen the sonogram picture from her first ultrasound at eight weeks to confirm her pregnancy, but at that point, it had mostly been a small blob, only vaguely human in shape. Now it looked…well, like an actual baby.
"It is pretty amazing, though, isn't it?" Mila asked, completely captivated by the image.
"Y-Yeah."
Dr. Klimkin cleared his throat. "Now, as I said earlier, a little spotting is common, but if the bleeding gets any heavier or you start experiencing any pain or cramping…"
The doctor's voice faded to the background as Yuri stared at the screen at the baby – Mila and Otabek's baby.
For the first time since Mila peed on that white stick, it felt utterly and undeniably real. The baby was no longer some abstract concept, some theoretical "someday". Mila was already close to halfway through her pregnancy; the baby would be born in only a few months, months that seemed far too short the closer November approached.
Yuri had hoped that in that time he would grow used to the idea, that he would come to love the baby as much as Mila and Otabek already did, but… Maybe it had been a mistake to agree to Otabek's idea of raising the baby together. He felt no connection at all to the image on the screen.
"Yura? Hey, Earth to Yura!"
Someone waved a hand in front of his face.
Yuri blinked. Mila was sitting back up on the examination table, her shirt pulled back down over her belly and a concerned look on her face. "You okay?" she asked.
"Uh, yeah," he said. "Sorry. Is that it?"
"Yes, you're free to go," Dr. Klimkin said, tapping on his tablet. "Just drop by the front desk to sign some papers."
"Thank you, Dr. Klimkin, and sorry for wasting your time," Mila said as Yuri helped her down from the table.
"Nonsense. A mother wanting to be certain her baby is okay is never a waste of time."
As soon as Mila finished signing all the necessary paperwork at the front desk, Yuri immediately started heading toward the exit. "Come on, let's go," he said in a gruff voice, more than ready to leave.
"Wa—" Mila caught up to him, reaching for his arm and stopping him. "Yura, are you sure you're okay?" she asked, placing a hand on his forehead. "Are you feeling sick? Maybe you sh—"
On reflex, Yuri slapped her hand away. "Don't touch me, hag! You're not my mother."
Mila took a step back, and Yuri brought a hand to his mouth, horrified when he realized what he had said. "Sorry, I-I didn't mean…" He sighed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I'm fine. I'm just… I don't know."
How could he explain when he didn't understand himself why he had reacted that way?
"Oh, okay," Mila said softly. For once, she didn't pry.
"Stay here," he said. "I'll bring the car around front."
"That's not really necessary, Yura. I'm fully capable of walking to –"
"Please, Mila." He just needed a few minutes to himself.
"Fine," she said after a brief pause. "I'll wait for you at that bench over there." She pointed to the bench in front of the hospital entrance.
Yuri nodded his understanding before heading out to the car.
However, it wasn't until he had walked almost to the end of the parking lot that Yuri realized he had no clue where he parked it, having been too preoccupied with Mila to take note of which row he had parked in. It had been near a tree, right? He remembered a tree. Maybe.
If he hadn't forgotten his stupid phone at home, he could call Mila and ask her if she had any idea where he had parked, but, of course, he had.
"Great. Fucking great," Yuri muttered, kicking at a rock in his path. Could the day get any worse?
After roaming around the parking lot for a couple more minutes, checking the areas around nearby trees with no luck, he gave up the search and pressed the panic button on his key fob, following the piercing sound of the alarm to his car. The Mercedes was parked three rows over, nowhere near a tree.
Yuri turned off the alarm and unlocked the doors, sliding into the driver's seat. He didn't immediately start the car, however, leaning back in the seat and pressing the heels of his hands against his eyelids. "Pull yourself together, asshole," he told himself.
Mila had just weathered a huge scare. This wasn't the time to deal with whatever stupid issues he had. He needed to concentrate on Mila, to be the best friend he was supposed to be. Even if Otabek was on the other side of the world at the moment, she wasn't alone.
After taking a couple of breaths, Yuri started the car and drove up to the front entrance. Mila was sitting on the bench like she said she would be, walking over when she saw him pull up and sliding into the passenger-side seat.
"Sorry. Um, I got a little lost, couldn't find the car," he explained as she buckled her seatbelt.
"It's fine," she said softly.
That was the extent of their conversation, the rest of the drive back to their apartment building passing in silence. Mila headed straight toward the door to her and Otabek's apartment when they arrived.
"So, do you, um, need anything?" Yuri asked, scratching the back of his neck. "I can make you lunch... Well, I guess it's closer to supper, now, huh? Or we can get takeout if you want, my treat?"
Mila gave him a wan smile. "Thanks, but I'm okay now," she said, opening the door. "I'm going to call Beka and tell him what happened, then I think I'll just go to bed. I'm tired. It's been a long day."
"Oh. Yeah, okay. Good night, then."
"'Night."
Yuri waited until she had entered her apartment and closed the door behind her, then sighed and stepped into his own apartment.
After cleaning up the mess he had left behind in the kitchen and opening a can of cat food for Potya, Yuri cooked a quick dinner of chicken and salad, making enough for two servings. Despite what Mila had said, he sent her a text anyway, inviting her to come over and eat with him if she was hungry.
It came as no surprise when he didn't receive an answer.
"Why do I always have to be such a jerk?" he asked Potya, feeding the old cat a few small pieces of chicken he tore off Mila's share.
Potya meowed.
"Because I'm an asshole? Yeah, you're probably right."
Frowning, Yuri covered Mila's uneaten plate in aluminum foil and put it in the fridge. No point in letting it go to waste; he could reheat it and eat it for lunch tomorrow. He then plopped down on the couch, grabbing the phone he had left behind from off the end table. Otabek had sent him a short text message while he'd been cooking: Thanks for being there for her today.
Yuri scoffed. Yeah, he had been a great help.
He didn't reply back, instead setting the phone down to eat his dinner.
Yuri had eaten about half of his meal when he heard a soft knock on the door. Brow furrowing, he wondered who it could be. Most likely a neighbor, since his apartment hadn't been buzzed. They didn't visit often, but occasionally someone would drop by, wanting to borrow a cup of flour or something of that nature.
He set his plate on the coffee table and walked over to answer the door, eyes widening when he saw Mila standing in the hallway. She was already dressed for bed, but her eyes were bloodshot, her nose rubbed red and raw. "Um, is your dinner invitation still good?" she asked, sniffling as she swiped a hand over her cheek. "I tried to go to sleep, but it's so lonely without Beka..."
"Y-Yeah. Of course." He stepped aside, letting her in. "I'll warm it up for you."
"Thanks."
Yuri headed to the kitchen and microwaved the piece of chicken he had saved while Mila took a seat on the couch, cuddling with Potya. He brought the plate to her when the microwaved dinged and sat down beside her with his own half-eaten dinner. Neither of them said much while they ate, Mila mostly just picking at her food with her fork.
"Do you not like it?" he asked when he finished his share, breaking the silence between them. "I can fix you something else if –"
Mila shook her head. "No, it's delicious. Sorry, I'm just...not very hungry, I guess."
"No problem." Yuri stood back up, taking their plates back to the kitchen and putting the leftovers away in the fridge. "So, uh, about earlier, I really am sor–"
"It's fine, really," Mila said, interrupting. "Let's just forget about it, okay?"
Yura was certainly in favor of that, wishing he could wipe the whole rotten day from his memory. Coming back to the couch, he grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. Potya jumped up on his lap.
"So...Project Runway?" The marathon was probably over, but he had a few favorite episodes saved on his DVR.
Mila smiled, wrapping her arms around Yuri and snuggling up against him. "Project Runway."
"Yura, tell Beka that he's not dropping out of the Grand Prix."
A couple of weeks after her miscarriage scare, Mila burst through the door, Otabek right on her heels. Yuri, who had been playing a game on his Nintendo Switch, swore as he lost the race for the fifth time in a row, then looked up from the screen, eyes wide when he realized what Mila had said.
"What? You're quitting the Grand Prix?"
Neither of them seemed to hear him, continuing to argue as if Yuri wasn't even there. "It's my decision, Mila," Otabek said. "Don't bring Yura into this."
"It's not just your decision anymore. You didn't even think to ask me how I felt about it."
"Because I thought you would be happy."
"Well, I'm not. You got the two assignments you want–"
"Wait, they've posted the assignments?" Yuri interrupted, setting his controller aside to reach for his phone on the coffee table. Usually on the day the Grand Prix assignments were rumored to be announced, he was glued to his cell, constantly refreshing the ISU website for news, but Yuri was feeling remarkably relaxed about the upcoming season.
"You got Skate America and NHK Trophy," Mila said, saving him the trouble of looking it up. "Beka got Rostelecom Cup and Internationaux de France."
The one bad thing about sharing the World podium with Otabek was that there was an unofficial rule that the reigning medalists weren't allowed to compete against each other on the Grand Prix circuit until the Final, provided they qualified. He and Otabek hadn't competed in the same Grand Prix qualifying event since the 2018-2019 season, when they both were invited to Cup of China.
"You're not injured, are you?" Yuri asked Otabek, frowning. He hadn't noticed anything off during practice earlier. In fact, Otabek had skated great, only stumbling out of a quad lutz attempt during the run-through of the new free program Nathalie Leroy had choreographed for him. "Why are you dropping out of the Grand Prix?"
"Because he's a stupid, stubborn ass," Mila said, crossing her arms over her chest.
"No." Otabek plopped down on the couch beside Yuri. "It's because I don't want to risk missing the birth of our daughter."
"But I'm not even due until mid-November. Both of your events are in October."
"You know due dates are just an estimate. The baby could come early."
"She could also come late, by that logic."
"Exactly. We don't know, so it's better to be safe than sorry."
"But –"
"Is there a reason why you two can't fight about this at your own apartment and let me play my game in peace?" Yuri asked, interrupting once again.
Over the years, he had learned it best not to take sides whenever Otabek and Mila argued. All it did was make Mila angry with both of them since he almost always sided with Otabek – although, for once, he was Team Mila. Yuri had yet to decide if he was going to continue competing for another full quad, but Otabek was committed to trying for a third Olympics and winning the gold. As the new and reigning World Champion, the upcoming Grand Prix was a great opportunity to solidify his reputation as the one to beat for the next four years. Of course he knew Otabek didn't want to miss his daughter's birth, but like Mila said, she wasn't due until November, and both of his events were close to home. It was silly to withdraw so early when it was impossible to know what would happen.
"Fine, whatever," Mila said, throwing up her arms. "He's not listening to me anyway. If he decides he wants to apologize, I'll be in our room, FaceTiming with Sara about wedding colors."
With that, she stormed out of Yuri's apartment, the door slamming shut behind her.
"Wow, she is PISSED," Yuri said. "Shouldn't you, like, go after her, or something?"
"She'll get over it once she bitches about me to Sara," Otabek said, grabbing Yuri's Joy-Con from the coffee table and pulling it apart to create two separate controllers, one of which he handed back to Yuri. "Here, put it on two-player mode."
"Okay…"
Yuri turned back around on the couch, going to the main menu and changing the settings to support two players. After he selected his usual Bowser and Otabek chose Toad, they began racing, Otabek's face settling into a determined look that Yuri usually only saw on the ice. When did he take video games so seriously?
Well, whatever. Yuri welcomed the competition. He'd been getting bored of playing against the computer anyway.
Yuri won the first two races as Otabek reacquainted himself with the controls, but the next three Otabek took handily, kicking Yuri's ass in spectacular fashion. Letting out a string of profanities after the third loss, Yuri's eyes narrowed, determined to tie up the score, yet shortly after the start of the next race, the fight went out of Otabek. He sighed, dropping the controller on his lap and leaning back against the couch cushions as he stared up at the ceiling.
Frowning, Yuri exited out of the race and turned his attention to Otabek. "Are you really gonna drop out of the Grand Prix?"
Otabek shrugged. "I don't know. Probably."
"But you'll miss out on the prize money and a chance at the Final. You have a great shot at winning the gold this year, Beka!" Not that Yuri intended to let him win that easily, but if Otabek kept skating the way he did at Worlds... Well, he was definitely going to be an even bigger threat than he was before. "Plus, it's always good to get your programs out early to see what the judges think about them."
"You sound like Mila. I can always go to a couple of late Senior Bs instead. It's not a big deal."
"But –"
"Yura, I've given this a lot of thought," Otabek said, cutting him off. "If something happened, and I wasn't here again…" He shook his head, shielding his eyes with his hand. "I never should have gone to Toronto," he muttered, so low that Yuri had to strain to make out what he said.
Oh. So, that was what this was all about.
"Hey, you know, shit happens sometimes, Beka," Yuri said, rubbing Otabek's shoulder. "You can't predict it. Nobody blames you for not being here."
"I know that… But I still think it's best to sit out the Grand Prix, just in case."
"So, what? You're just gonna give up on going to international competitions for the rest of your life on the off-chance that something might happen to Mila or the baby?"
"I didn't say that. I'll come back for the second half of the –"
"Will you?" Yuri asked. "If something comes up again like last time and they aren't able to come with you to, say, Four Continents, will you really be able to leave them behind and concentrate on your skating?"
"I… I don't know," Otabek admitted, pushing back his hair. "God, the baby isn't even born yet, and I'm already a nervous wreck. When Mila called and told me what had happened, I… I don't think I've ever felt so helpless. I mean, I'm glad you were there for her, that she didn't have to go through that all on her own, but…"
Yuri glanced away. Mila apparently hadn't told Otabek the whole story about what happen that day, about the way he had acted toward her afterwards. He still didn't understand what had come over him.
"Look, nobody's saying that you have to compete in the Grand Prix if you're really worried about something happening with the baby, Beka," he said, getting back to the original subject. "I just think it's too soon to make that decision. The assignments were only announced, what, an hour ago? And the first competition isn't until mid-October, months away! If it looks like Mila may go into premature labor, you can always withdraw, but until then, isn't it better to keep your options open?"
"Maybe you're right," Otabek admitted.
"Of course I'm right. And even if something does happen while you're gone, Moscow is only a thirty-minute flight away. It'll take a little longer from France, but it's not like you're going to be halfway across the world this time."
"Okay, okay. I get your point!" Otabek sighed. "When did you become the level-headed one between us?" he asked, earning him a playful punch on the arm.
"Hey, I can be level-headed…on occasion," Yuri said, reaching again for his controller. "Now, come on, let's get back to racing so I can kick your ass."
"Actually, I should probably go apologize to Mila first." Otabek set his controller on the coffee table and stood up, walking over to the door. "She was right. I should have talked to her instead of blindsiding her with my decision right aft— Milasha!"
As it turned out, Mila had the same idea. When Otabek opened the door, she was standing right outside the apartment, her eyes widening in surprise.
"I'm so—"
"Sorry, I —"
Mila burst into giggles and Otabek grinned, the tension between them from earlier melting away. Even Yuri hid a smile, glad to see them getting along again.
"I'm sorry," Mila began again once her laughter subsided. "It's your career, your decision. I still think you're jumping the gun, but if you really think it's best to withdraw –"
"No, I've decided to hold off for now," Otabek said. "Yura made me realize I've just been scared." He brought a hand to her stomach. "After what happened..."
"Oh, Beka..."
Deciding to give them some privacy, Yuri stood and headed to the kitchen to grab a bottled water from the refrigerator. He was about to twist off the cap when his cell started ringing in his back pocket. He pulled out the phone, frowning when he glanced at the display. It was an unfamiliar number with a Moscow area code. Probably Grandpa's landlord, calling to gripe because Yuri had forgotten to mail off his rent check until it was already a couple of days overdue. Seriously, who required payment with checks nowadays, anyway? He paid all his other bills online – fast and convenient, just the way he liked it.
With a roll of his eyes, he answered the call, bracing the phone between his ear and shoulder as he opened his bottled water. "Hello?"
"Yes, hello. Is this Yuri Nikolayevich Plisetsky, grandson of Nikolai Grigoryevich Plisetsky?"
"Yeah, I'm him," he said, pausing for a second to take a sip. "Look, if this is about Grandpa's rent, I know I sent the check off a couple of days late this month, but –"
"No, I'm not your grandfather's landlord. I'm Dr. Alexei Konstantinovich Mozalev from University Central Hospital."
"Hospital?" Yuri's posture straightened, his grip tightening around the cell. A knot started forming in the pit of his stomach, knowing that getting an unexpected call from the hospital was never good news. "Did something happen to Grandpa?"
"Are you alone, Yuri Nikolayevich?" the doctor asked, ignoring Yuri's question.
"No." He glanced over at Mila and Otabek. The two of them were hugging and exchanging kisses, having apparently made up. Not wanting to watch, Yuri set his bottle down on the island counter and turned to face the window over the sink. "No, I'm, um, with friends," he said, wondering what business it was of the doctor's if he was alone or not. He pushed a strand of hair that had fallen over his face behind his ear. "What is this about? Is Grandpa okay?"
The knot tightened even more at the long pause that followed on the other end of the line. In reality, it probably only lasted a couple of seconds at most, but for Yuri, it seemed to stretch on forever, his heartbeat quickening as realization hit even before the doctor delivered the news.
"I'm so sorry for your loss," the doctor finally said, confirming his worst fears. "Nikolai Grigoryevich died a short time ago. There was nothing we could do to save him."
SPOILER SUMMARY: While Otabek is in Canada, getting his new free program choreographed from JJ's mother, Mila has a miscarriage scare. Yuri takes her to the emergency room. It turns out to be nothing major, just a little spotting, but Mila is really shaken up and Yuri doesn't handle it the best. They make up, though.
A couple of weeks later, Mila and Otabek argue over his sudden decision to skip the Grand Prix. Otabek is afraid that if he goes to an international competition near Mila's due date, something might happen again, just like when she had her miscarriage scare while he was in Toronto. Yuri manages to convince him that it's too early for him to make any definite decisions, and Otabek and Mila apologize to each other. While they are making up, Yuri receives a phone call from a hospital in Moscow. The doctor informs him that his grandfather has died.
DISCLAIMER: "Yuri! On Ice" doesn't belong to me.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! The next chapter should hopefully be posted in early February.
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