CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
-Konstantin Nikiforov; the Russian Bear! THAT'S Victor's father!?-
Victor had eventually succumbed to sleep after dawn that morning, eased into it with the help of his mulled wine. He was awoken only by the sound of barking outside, car-doors closing, and Yuri being bowled over by a particularly excited poodle as he opened the front door to the elder gentleman who'd just arrived.
"Congratulations on winning your first Gold, Yuri." Yakov told him, "You have our Yuri sweating over Worlds already."
Yuri laughed nervously as Makkachin continued laying on the love, jumping around like a hot bean, "It's going to be one hell of a competition."
"Where's Vitya?"
"I'm here." Victor said sleepily as he emerged from the side hall, holding his arm up to shield his eyes from the bright sun, "Thanks for watching Makkachin again."
The dog leapt up to try and lick Victor's face, so the man caught him in mid-leap and held the big pup against his chest. Makkachin wriggled and licked, then licked and wriggled, unsure what order to do things in. Victor eventually set the dog back on the ground, and the excited creature fell onto his back to demand belly pets, to which Victor quickly obliged.
"Were you up drinking all night?" The coach wondered, an eyebrow quirked under the brim of his hat.
"I was up all night, and I did drink, but only one glass." Victor assured him, "I wouldn't be hung-over for something like this."
"And you told Katsuki what's going on?"
"More or less."
"More or less...?" Yuri repeated, "How much more could there be?"
"Sixteen years leading up to it." Victor winked at him, as though it were some big joke suddenly. Yuri didn't really find any humor in it though and worried all the more.
Yakov wasn't sure about the exchange, and couldn't help but switch to Russian, [Vitya, how can you be acting dumb about this? You're setting him up for a situation that isn't likely to go the way you want it to. ...I don't think you should bring him.]
[I already told him it would be okay if he came. I can't just leave him at home now.]
[Yuri doesn't speak or understand Russian, and your father doesn't speak or understand English. This whole thing is going to go right over his head.]
[It's not about whether he understands; he just wants to be there.]
"Vitya..." Yakov sighed, [He's a sensitive kid. I don't know if he can even handle this.]
[A skater with a heart made of glass.] Victor said aloud, smiling, [I won't let anything happen. Konstantin won't get within ten feet of me.]
Yakov grumbled to himself, but then nodded, and headed back towards his car, "Get ready and then let's go."
"Give me thirty minutes; I just woke up." Victor said quietly, and closed the door to go back to the bedroom and do as told. Once finished, he moved to grab his coat and scarf, and went to join where Yuri had been waiting outside, keeping Yakov company while they all waited. Yuri piled into the car as Victor locked their front door. The dog watched them go from the living-room window, looking on as though heartbroken.
"Poor guy..." Yuri said sadly, seeing the brown poodle disappear as the car moved on, "We just got back and now we're leaving him behind again."
"He's in his own house though so it'll be fine. He'll go to sleep until we return." Victor said, "This shouldn't take long anyway. We're only going to get an address."
"I really did try to get him to skip this nonsense and tell me," Yakov pointed out.
"And by the end of it, I told you he was going to make me work for this." Victor retorted, seeking comfort in his partner while they traveled.
Yakov noticed and grunted a little to himself, "If you do that in front of him, he may knock Katsuki's block off as well as yours."
"We already have a plan..." Victor grumbled, "While we're doing this, Yuri is just my student again."
"Do you plan on taking your rings off?"
The pair looked mildly offended, and both said, "No."
Yakov grunted in annoyance, "Do so at your peril. This is Russia. Most of the older generation is deeply conservative. Putin's revival of the Russian Orthodox Church has made a lot of people all too happy to stoke the fires of their old intolerances. Mila told me that she warned you in Barcelona to keep your situation quiet. She wasn't just saying that to worry you."
"...I know, I know."
"And I know that you spent a great deal of effort at the RSF conference trying to hide Yuri's ring so people wouldn't realize it matched yours and figure you out."
Victor groaned and dropped his head back against the seat.
"The only thing protecting you from the worst of it is the fact that you are what you are, and you've honored Russia with your talents." Yakov continued, "But Katsuki isn't famous, and he isn't Russian either. And if either of you end up in a situation where you're surrounded by people who don't know anything about skating, you could both get seriously hurt."
Yuri nervously turned his ring around on his finger, moving it up to the knuckle and then down again as the two Russians fussed at each other. He felt like a fly on the wall, as he often did when Victor talked to anyone on the Russian team when he was around.
"We're not going to be dealing with this for very long. I'm just getting an address and then we're leaving."
"Ah Vitya..." Yakov lamented, "The fact that he insists on giving it directly to you himself means this isn't going to be just a quick exchange."
Victor whined loudly, "...I want today to be over already..."
It was a horrible 35 minute drive, but when they finally pulled up to stop, it had felt like eternity. A block away was the entrance to the Summer Garden in the center of the city. There were a few dozen people wandering around, but most of them were on the move, so it didn't look like anyone was waiting...for them, or anyone else.
"Konstantin said he'd be waiting at the Ivan Krylov Monument." Yakov explained, gawking at the two as they looked around for anyone suspicious, "He may be huge, but you won't see him from here."
"So you've seen him recently?" Victor puffed.
"No, but I doubt he's changed since the last time I did."
Grudgingly, the two in the back seat finally emerged, and the group made their way to the park. For such a dour circumstance bringing them there, Yuri still thought it was a nice place to see. They passed along the long sidewalk with the massive wrought-iron fence - black of bar and trimmed in gold - until they passed within its huge gates. Inside, Yuri marveled at the fountains, and walkways decorated with marble statues, even though the landscape was blanketed in snow and nothing was turned on.
"The statues were brought here from Italy by Peter the Great." Victor explained, seeing the sparkle of wonder in his fiancé's eyes, "But most of them are modern replicas. The real ones were moved somewhere else to protect them." He leaned closer to point to their left, "Over there is Peter the Great's Summer Palace."
"This place makes Japan look..."
"Different." Victor said, cutting him off before he could say anything else.
"Yeah."
"You said that Hasetsu Castle was just a tourist trap with no historical value." Victor continued, "Maybe we should go touring the real historical Japan one day?"
"We should come back here during the summer, too." Yuri suggested; he'd almost let himself forget why there were there in the first place.
"I can see him." Yakov said, stopping in place where he'd lead the duo to that point, "Wait here."
Victor abruptly turned around, keeping his back to the direction his coach was walking.
Yuri watched him quietly, but then looked past, seeing where Yakov was going, and hoped to catch the first sight of this relic from Victor's past. It was hard to see from their vantage, but Yuri thought he could see a dark blob rising from a bench near the monument. He squinted to try and see better, "...Well, I think he's bigger than Yakov...but it's hard to tell from here..."
Victor's half-hidden eye twitched under where his bangs covered them, "That's nice."
A minute or two passed in tense silence, and Yuri watched the approaching pair, occasionally looking back to his partner - and his trembling stance.
"Vitya." Yakov started.
Yuri looked at the man with terrified curiosity, wondering how in the world he and Victor could possibly be related. Easily over six feet tall, the man looked half an ox. Thick, wind-burnt, a closely-cut beard that was dark as coal, but salted with grey...and those pale, slate-blue eyes peering through it all. He wore a long, dark, smoke-grey coat and a brimmed hat similar to Yakov's, and a clean but obviously-long-owned suit and tie.
Their eyes, Yuri thought to himself, Victor has his father's eyes.
"Victor."
Yuri could see his partner cringe at the sound of the voice, and he slowly turned his head to peer back over his shoulder. Victor refused to say anything in response though. He could only manage a half-turn, keeping his side-face to the man, his hands clenched in his coat pockets as the wind swirled in short gusts, whipping scarves and coat lapels all around.
[Who's the runt?] Konstantin asked the shorter gentlemen.
[Yuri Katsuki, a skater from Japan that Vitya's coaching.] Yakov answered.
[Why's he here?]
[I asked him to come.] Victor answered for his coach, [Let's get this over with.]
The large, husky man took a step forward, and Victor instinctively took one away in turn. Yuri could feel the tension rising like water in a sinking ship.
[Scared?]
[You nearly blinded me last time we met. I'd rather not try that again.]
Konstantin laughed at that; a barreling thunderous laugh, [I bet you would. King Queer and all, you need both eyes to keep on dancing.]
[I didn't come here to trade insults. You said you would only give up the address to my mother's funeral if I showed up myself, so here I am. Let's have it.]
[You refer to her like she's some alien.] The older, gruff man said sharply, [Do you even really want to be there when we put her in the ground?]
[I wouldn't have bothered coming all this way when I had other plans if I didn't really want to be there. You always said the Bible commanded my obedience anyway, so why are you questioning it?]
[You were never much of a believer, Victor.]
[The address.]
Konstantin held up his right hand, and pulled an envelope from the inside pocket of his coat, [It's in here.]
Victor's eyes twitched in bitterness at the gesture, realizing he'd have to get closer to his father to get the information.
Yuri could see it, and stepped up to his partner's side in a gesture to continue moving forward in his place, "Do you want me to...?"
"No." He answered firmly, and put his left arm out to keep Yuri behind him, "You stay there. I don't need you getting involved in my fights."
[The hell are you saying? Talking in Moonspeak now?]
[It's English. How else do you think I can coach a foreign athlete? We all speak English.]
[That's nice of you.]
Victor's eyes narrowed, "Dois-je plutôt parler en français?" (Should I speak in French instead?)
His father bristled a little, [The weak language of fairies. I recognize that one. I'm not surprised you know it.]
[Put the envelope on the ground and leave. You'll see me again at the funeral, if you're even there.]
[I wouldn't be the one giving you the address if I wasn't going.] Konstantin pointed out, but refused to move his hand, or the envelope, one inch, [You'll take it from me if you want it at all.]
Victor grit his teeth, unsure how to proceed. His father took another step forward, and he himself took yet another step back. The envelope was right there in between them, held at the limits of Konstantin's reach. Instead of cautiously stepping closer though, Konstantin just barreled forward, closing the distance until he rammed the envelope into the center of Victor's chest with a speed that surprised all three of them. Victor had his hands out of his pockets then, both up in a defensive posture as he stumbled over his own feet in shock at the sudden advance. He didn't fall though, and held his ground.
"...Victor!" Yuri blanched.
"STAY WHERE YOU ARE." He barked, not taking his eyes off the huge man in front of him.
Both skaters were on edge, and for the next few seconds, no one moved. Even Yakov was unsure what to do, so he stayed put as well.
It only took a second or two for Konstantin to notice the gold shine on one of his son's fingers, and his eyes glanced over to where Yuri had his hands up as well, seeing a matching ring there. The huge pale hand that was flat to Victor's chest - with the envelope still pressed between them - suddenly clenched, grabbed the front of Victor's sweater in turn and yanked him unexpectedly closer. The strength of the man was enough to make Victor, despite being 5'11", look like a small child.
Yuri acted on instinct after that, and jumped into the fray to try and put himself between his fiancé and the man who'd grabbed him, "Don't hurt him!" He pleaded, "Let Victor go!"
"Yuri get out of there!" Yakov called.
It was too late though. Yuri's flailing was like a fly on a horse's backside, and it just annoyed the huge bear of a man. Konstantin reached his left hand under where his right had grabbed his son, and yanked Yuri clean under it to hold him up again on the other side. Cold slate eyes glared at him, like they could stare straight into his skull and bore a hole into his brain. Konstantin just sneered, and literally threw Yuri away without a word; he landed with a crunch in the snow and skidded several feet more before coming to a painful stop.
"Yuri!" Victor cried out.
[I thought I could forgive you for wanting to be a dancer instead of a man.] Konstantin said, his voice quiet and deep, [Since you had apparently done so well, and become King of all the Fairies for five years straight. But this...] His huge left hand grabbed Victor's right arm by the wrist and yanked it up, glaring past the ring, [...This is unforgivable. This is exactly what I said you'd become if you skated. You shame us all.]
Victor thought the man's grip was so tight, it was like to break his arm.
[Konstantin, I'll call the police if you don't put him down.] Yakov warned, [You swore you wouldn't lay a finger on him if I gave him the message and brought him here.]
[I'm not going to hurt him.] The gruff man snarled, doing everything he could not to crush Victor where he held him, [But our Father commands that men who lie with other men should be put to death. He also commands us to beat our children if they are disobedient. I should kill him.]
[Konstantin Nikiforov! That's enough!]
Victor's father shoved him back so hard that he couldn't stay on his feet; he collapsed backwards and spun over himself before finally landing on his stomach in the slush and snow. The crumpled envelope fell onto the walkway between them, and Victor's left eye twitched nervously behind his bangs.
[Come to the funeral tomorrow, or don't, I don't care. My son died when he was twelve, but Tatiyana deluded herself into thinking you were him in the flesh. For her, I gave you this last gift, but that's it. After tomorrow, if I see you again, I'll kill you.]
Yuri finally collected himself and slowly struggled over to Victor's side. Victor cringed as he tried to push himself up to sit as well.
Konstantin snarled at the both of them, spat a wad at Yuri's face, and then kicked snow over the both of them before finally leaving. He passed Yakov without another word, and without looking back.
Yakov scrambled over to Victor, "Vitya, are you...?"
He was too busy using his cold, wet scarf to wipe the spit off his fiancé's face to answer. He shook terribly as he did so, and Yuri tried to avoid letting him get his own clothing even more dirty for his sake, and tried to rub the wet spot off on his own sleeve.
"I should never have let you come." Victor finally said, and dropped his arms to his lap, "You didn't need to see that."
"Are you okay!? Are you hurt!?" Yuri was too worried about physical harm than his own emotional state, and he grabbed Victor's shoulders to try and shake him out of his stupor, "Victor!"
The Russian just looked at his hands where they'd fallen to his lap, his clothing wet from the snow, the cold seeping in. His fingers were starting to turn pink from exposure, but all he could think to do was use them to grasp at Yuri's coat and pull him close, and buried his face against the crook of his partner's neck.
Yuri wrapped his arms around the man and held him for a while...and Victor cried.