CHAPTER FOURTY NINE
-One finger and one spirit share the same fate, but only one can be restored at a time...-
The competitive day had been underway for hours already before the second group from Men's Singles even needed to show up. With 25 skaters making the cut to the Free Skate, there was a lot of time to hurry up and wait. With far-fewer competitors than the Singles group, the Ice Dancers and Pair Skaters were up in the morning, leaving the larger chunk of the afternoon and evening for the glut of individual athletes. Everyone in the Men's group still made their way to the arena at the same time though, just as the Pairs Free was finishing outs its medaling ceremony.
Yuri looked at the schedules carefully, eyes fixed on the top ten from the previous day. It was barely different from the Grand Prix Final, save the presence of 'Nikiforov' in attendance.
Come to think of it...I haven't even seen Yurio since the Short Program…
He looked around curiously as he went back to rink-side, but no matter what, he saw no one else from the Russian team but Victor. When that silver-haired skater came to the rink's edge, Yuri waved for him to come closer, "Where's Yakov and the rest?"
"Dunno." Victor shrugged, "I haven't talked to them since Yurio did his Short Program."
"That's what I thought..." Yuri nodded, "I wonder if everything's okay?"
"Hand me my phone and I'll find out."
Yuri turned away and rummaged through his partner's gear bag until he found the device, still encased by that blue-style 'Aria' outfit design, and handed it over to its owner, "Yurio isn't still mad at you, is he?"
"Never know with him. Probably though. There's always something."
Yuri crossed his arms over the rink wall and leaned on his elbows as the call to Yakov was made. He looked around to see other skaters that were sharing their own sections of the practice rink at the time. There was limited room on the ice, so a group of five was allowed out at a time for warm-ups; to Victor's benefit, no one was in his own group that had a history of antagonizing him.
"Hey!" Victor finally said after what seemed like far too long, "Where are all of you? The practice rink opened an hour ago and we haven't seen you down here." Another pause, and Victor nodded as he listened, "Oh...I see. Is he okay?"
"...Okay?" Yuri echoed dubiously, a skeptical look on his face as a thousand possible circumstances played-out in his head all at once.
"…You can't be serious." Victor continued, and rubbed the sides of his brow with his thumb and forefingers, "Alright, alright...I'll come talk to him. Do svidanija." He clicked the phone off and handed it back to his beloved, "Looks like I have to go play big brother again."
"What happened?"
"Yurio punched a tile wall and didn't tell anyone, so now he's got a good-sized cut on the back of his hand that needs attention and he refuses to go see a medic." Victor explained, "Oh, and he refuses to come to practice. If that wasn't obvious."
"Where is he now?"
"In his hotel room."
"This is all a bit immature for him, don't you think?"
"Not necessarily." The Russian explained, nudging himself forward on the ice as Yuri walked alongside to keep pace, and grabbed his blade guards as they went, "Yurio always hated practice. Now that he's got the two Gold medals, he might be slipping back into old habits. Or..."
"Or...?" Yuri wondered; he watched as each rubber bar was fitted to each of their gold blades.
"He's a teen with a huge ego; whatever set him off still bothers him now. It's hard to tell what he's thinking these days or what he wants. It can change like the weather, and for no reason at all."
"Should I come…? I know he probably doesn't want to see my face, but..."
Victor laughed quietly, "No, probably not...but you're going to show it anyway." He pulled off his skates and gathered up his things, "Let's go see if we can find a medic that'll come with us."
.
Yakov waited with Lilia outside Yurio's room when the duo - plus the hotel manager and the aforementioned medic - arrived. Victor stopped just outside the door and Yakov moved aside, "Has he said anything?"
"Nothing but to leave him alone." The elder coach whispered back, a severely annoyed look on his face. Yuri could sense that the older man had yelled himself ragged by then, clearly to no avail.
"Did you see his hand yourself?"
"Barely."
"Alright..." Victor shook his head and drew in a breath, then knocked on the door, "Yuri, open the door."
"Piss off, Victor!"
"You can either open the door or we're going to open it for you."
"Why do you care so much suddenly!?" Yurio barked.
"That's hardly fair..." Yuri grumbled to himself quietly, "After everything you did during that chaos with his grandpa? He says you don't care?"
"It's fine." Victor put his hand on the man's shoulder, moving out of the way to let the manager forward with the universal key fob, "We'll get to the bottom of it."
The door was finally open, and Yakov went in first, followed by Lilia, then Victor, then the medic, and finally Yuri, though he held back in the hall just inside the door so as not to create a scene. Yurio had done enough to make a scene on his own though, as when Yuri looked around the room, there were blood smears all over the place. It even looked like a meager attempt had been made to clean up the mess, only to give up after a time and just ignore it. The blond had already started loudly protesting the presence of the medic in Russian, but Yakov insisted he cut it out in English. Victor just stood stoically, keeping his arms crossed as he watched.
"He busted it pretty good, but there's a slight drop in the finger and it's pretty swollen." The medic explained, examining the youth's hand, "He should see a surgeon as soon as possible."
"Do what you can right here." Yakov said simply, "The rest will have to wait until we're back in Russia."
"Yessir."
"Don't touch me!" Yurio protested, and swiped his hand away, only for Yakov to whop him over the head with his hat like he was shooing a cat off a table. The teen flailed in return, tucking his hand into his armpit to keep it hidden, "I don't need this!"
"You're a minor and you need stitches." Victor finally said, "So sit there and let the woman do her job."
"I don't consent! This is assault!" He snarled, trying to get up from the edge of the bed where he'd been sitting, "You can't do this to me!"
"Yuratchka! You're a kid and I'm responsible for what happens to you." Yakov retorted.
Victor had finally had enough of the teen's flailing and moved to sit next to him on the bed, wrapping both arms around him and even one leg over his lap to hold him still. He managed to wiggle the blonde's injured hand out from where it was wedged between them, and gave it over to the medic. Once he seemed to finally give up, the lady continued her inspection in more detail.
"Why do you think I hate you so much?" Victor asked quietly where he held Yurio's head against his shoulder, "What did I do to deserve this?"
"You broke your promises, you left Russia without saying a goddamn word, you dropped out of competition so you could coach some half-baked nobody, and now that nobody is..." The teen's voice trailed off as his breath caught in his throat; the medic had used alcohol to cleanse the injury site, and the pain was excruciating.
...He's mad because of me…? Yuri thought to himself from where he still hid behind the wall.
The medic used sterile gauze to wipe away the alcohol and blood, and as more clean skin was exposed, she got a bottle of lidocaine with marcaine ready. A big syringe with a large-bore needle came out, making Yurio seize in place, but when he realized she was just using it to draw-up the anesthetics, and switched out the big needle for a much smaller one, he seemed relieved...even if still severely cranky. He yelled-out in pain and anger as the bee-sting-like pain shot up his arm, needle-tip piercing his skin and stinging anesthesia injected.
Victor was certain that if he hadn't been holding Yurio still, he'd probably have left the room with a black eye later, but he held fast and offered his less-needed hand for the teen to squeeze. Yurio's grip was stronger than he expected, but by the look on his face, one couldn't know how much it still hurt.
"This will take a minute to set." The medic explained, opening her supply bag a little further to safely discard the used needles, and access more of her supplies, "Once it's numb, I'm going to deep-clean it, okay? It doesn't look like the tendon's busted all the way across, but you should try your hardest not to clench your fist until it can be looked at properly. One tug too hard and whatever's holding on might snap, and you'll have a useless finger that you can't extend anymore."
"Whatever." Yurio said between clenched teeth.
"...You were saying?" Victor inquired, wanting the full confession before making his decision about what the teen meant.
He felt Yurio slump against him a little, keeping his head low as the pain in his knuckle started to fade with the numbing medication, "You left me to train some fucking worthless fat-pig-nobody..."
"Watch yourself." The silver warned dubiously, "That nobody is my husband now and he's standing in earshot."
"See!? That's what pisses me off so much! You and him are practically tied at the hip! You even brought him back to Russia instead of leaving him in Japan where he belongs! And you fucking married him, too!? Are you serious!? This is just absurd! Like, SERIOUSLY WHAT THE FUCK, VICTOR?" He would've jumped right off the bed if his senior hadn't been holding him still.
"What? Am I not allowed a personal life that doesn't involve you? Does the fact that I found happiness really make you that angry?"
"It's a ridiculous mess!" Yurio barked, "There's no way you mean it! You're so stupid, you don't even see it!"
"Maybe you're the one who's blind."
"You don't know what you're talking about!"
"Then what do you want from me?" Victor wondered seriously, "What more could I possibly offer that I haven't already?"
"End this stupid mistake you made with the pig and get serious!" Yurio said flatly, but with intensity; a blue chuck-pad was set under his hand to prevent the upcoming cleaning from making an even bigger mess, "You belong in Russia, as a competitor, NOT a coach to some Japanese cry-baby failure!"
Yuri held his chest where he stood against the wall. The insults were getting to be a bit much, All this, even after he'd apologized for what he said at Sochi...and sticking up for us against the press...
"You wanted me to be your coach once." Victor continued.
"We're BOTH RUSSIAN."
"I don't see what difference that makes."
"YOU'RE HELPING THE ENEMY."
"This isn't a competition between you two for my affection." Victor informed simply, "And I don't appreciate you treating my wedding vows like this is all some stupid game I'm playing. You think I'd go through all that effort to find a way to make that happen if I didn't actually want it to? Give me a little more credit than that, Yuri."
For the other Yuri, it was hard for him to listen to his husband using that name with the Russian Punk, but he knew it would be worse if Victor used the nickname Mari had given him instead, so he remained silent.
The blond winced and groaned as he felt the medic starting to flush the wound, moreso from the feeling of the cold liquid dripping down his un-numbed fingers than from pain. Despite the anesthetic, he could still feel the deep sting of the irrigation being jet-streamed straight into the cut, "I think you're just saying that because he's standing in ear-shot." Yurio growled, trying to ignore the pain.
Victor shook his head and sighed, "I didn't think you could be so cruel...to me or to Yuri. We've both done everything we could to help and support you through all of your own trials, and this is how you repay us? By being nasty?"
"I never asked for your help!"
"That's because we're your friends. You shouldn't have to ask for help when it's obvious that you need it."
"Is that really all I am to you?" Yurio suddenly asked, catching the whole room off guard, "I'm just a friend?"
"...What else do you want to be?" Victor was really thrown by it.
Yuri peeked around the edge of the wall at that point, a little flustered as well, not sure how to feel about the situation. Victor saw him, and they exchanged worried glances, but the Russian turned back away a moment later.
"How long have we known each other? ...Years." The blonde explained, "Since I was old enough to be in the Junior ISU! Even before then, when I was still learning! You got paraded in front of all of us aspiring skaters and told about how fucking legendary you are, and you took me under your wing like your kid brother, and then just fucking disappeared."
Victor had to hold the Punk tighter during that outburst, as the teen threatened to jump up again as the bandaging began, "Yuri...I need you…!"
The older Yuri gawked, oddly feeling like this time Victor meant him and not the blonde, and when he saw that Yurio's twisting and flailing had put Victor right to the edge of the bed, he realized it was indeed him being summoned. He quickly came out of hiding then and helped keep his partner from falling off the corner - and dragging the already-perturbed youth with him - shoving him up just enough to get him back on more stable mooring.
The bandaging was almost done; the medic must've had experience with thrashing patients in the past.
Yuri sat on the corner to act as a buffer against the edge, ensuring neither Victor nor his charge took a tumble.
"Why couldn't you just leave him in retirement?" Yurio said, quieter than before, "You gave him everything you had, and why? You should've given it all to me..."
"Quit being greedy, Yuri." The older Yuri finally interrupted, getting pretty-well everyone's attention, "Victor helped raise you up for all those years that you mentioned. He bent over backwards to help you when you needed it. The fact that he even offered to go back to Russia if you won the Hot Springs on Ice event should tell you how seriously he took you. Do you know how much of a heart-attack that gave me when he said it!?" He rose back to his feet to loom over the teen, "He came all the way to Hasetsu and offers to be my coach, not knowing I didn't remember asking him to, completely upended my entire life, and he still gave you the chance to steal him back. I don't even know if I could've recovered from the shame if you had won and he'd actually left again! Can't you get out of your own head long enough to see how other people feel!?"
To the room's confusion, and Victor's wry amusement, Yuri went off on a tirade in Japanese after that. He could only imagine what Yuri was saying, and to Victor's surprise, Yuri actually stormed out of the room at the end. They expected to hear the door slam as he left, but it never came.
"THE FREE SKATE STARTS IN TWO HOURS. GET IT TOGETHER OR GO HOME, PLISETSKY." Yuri barked, finally speaking English again.
They could hear Yuri's footsteps as he stomped off down the hall, and the soft click of the door latching again, but not one person in the room said a word. Yurio just snapped his hand back as he felt the last of the bandage applied, and looked at how his middle and ring fingers were wrapped together, and neither was able to bend anymore. He scoffed bitterly; by then though, it was hard to tell if it was because of the state of his hand, or Yuri's outburst.