CHAPTER NINETY FIVE
Yuri could still hear the sound of the Russian Tiger's skates scratching the ice behind him, heading back to rink-side where the others were waiting. Their eyes were drilling holes into the back of his head, but no one said anything. He himself had felt like he'd just been hit by a bus after what Yurio had said.
...Until I know who I am again...? He makes it sound like my whole brain was transplanted...
He could feel his heart pounding in his chest despite his confusion. Part of him just wanted to crawl under a blanket somewhere and hide until the event was over.
All I ever wanted was to skate on the same ice as Viktor. But my wildest dreams of even just getting to meet him have been exceeded...I'm married to him... He's called me his equal, his successor, even did a pair skating Exhibition with me...he coached me to GPF silver and Worlds gold, and even bought custom gold-plated blades for me to match his own...
...So who am I? Someone who...got everything he wanted and more? Is that so wrong?
"...What in the world did you say to him?" Mikhail asked as Yurio finally got back around on his blade-guards, "He's practically catatonic out there."
"His cavalier self-pity is making me nauseous." The blond answered, "Not even Viktor got so full of himself after winning competitions, and he had won them five years running. That guy only won once and he's acting this way."
The older Russian heard the words and slouched against the rink wall, watching his partner stay still as a statue in spite of everyone staring at him from all sides of the ice.
"So you're going to fix the problem by making him feel like crap about himself?" Mikhail went on, "Here I thought you were going to help him."
"Sometimes you have to hit extra hard to break something." Yurio shrugged, "I meant to break the mask he's put on. That isn't Yuri, not to me. I told him to figure out who he is now, by at least trying to remember who he was. He's supposed to be doing his old Free Skate, not just standing around like some big dumbass."
"...Oh, there he goes." Minako pointed out, having heard the exchange.
Mari was too busy being a subtle fangirl over Yurio to really take notice of her brother.
Viktor had laced his fingers together and propped his mouth behind them. He watched with trepidation as his husband glided across the ice to the unheard tune of a piano.
"You've been awfully silent on all this." Yakov pointed out, stepping up to his former student and looking out as well, "You're still his coach, aren't you? Or are you just part of the cheering section now?"
They watched as Yuri skated backwards in a circle, then raised his hand up the length of his chest, under his chin, and brought it out ahead of him as he worked his way into the combination jump...only to see him drop on the first landing and miss the launch on the second as a result. The Russian unfolded his hands and put one over his eyes, under his bangs, and sighed.
"I spent the last year getting him to be more confident in himself and his choices. It took long enough just to get him to like himself. I don't know where I went wrong, if people see him the way Yuri described. Arrogant?" He peered through his fingers at his old coach, "...Conceited?"
"It only seems that way because of how suddenly it happened." Yakov answered, "A lot of the other coaches were discussing how it seemed like Yuri had let his recent victories get to his head. If the judges had seen the interview he did right before performing, I don't doubt he would've scored even lower. He carries himself now like he thinks he's entitled to the gold, like he doesn't have to earn it anymore."
"That's so far off base from what I see."
"How can you see it? You aren't impartial anymore." He pat the silver-haired skater on the shoulder and held there, "As a coach, you have to be an authority. You can't be his friend, never mind his husband. It seems like you can't make the tough choices anymore, or stick with them even if you try. I knew that when I read about the jump lineup. You let him override your decisions. What does that say about you as his choreographer?"
"...He wanted to do as much as he could on his own this time. I didn't think it was a big deal."
Another jump...another fall. Yuri was slower to get up that time, and even took a moment to dust the ice off his pants before trying to pick up where he'd left off.
"This is the consequence of an anxious mind trying to make up for past failures." Yakov said, withdrawing his hand to settle it in his coat pocket again, "And you've just been lead right into it. He's been blindsided by gold, and you've been blinded by your desire to see him succeed. You'll both go down hard if you can't find balance again. You still have so much to learn about being a coach, Vitya."
"...I know." He lowered himself to crossing his arms on the top of the wall and setting his chin on them, "I don't even know what to do about this situation. I couldn't see him getting a big head, but now I see clearly that he's losing it. It was easy to fix before...all I had to do was hold him or offer a kind word. Now he's so used to me that my touch hardly matters, and what I say goes through one ear and out the other more often than not."
"I know you've already thought of what to do about the Short Program. Have you told him?"
"He was up all night trying to figure out what sacrifices he wanted to make. I told him this morning to give me his top three and I'd approve the one I thought was best, but...he only offered up one and it didn't cut enough of the extra stuff. I didn't want to start a fight over it so I just agreed to what he gave me."
"You see?"
"Mh..."
Yuri fell for the last time. He didn't get up that time, and just laid there on the ice for a few seconds before sitting up and hunching over.
"...Maybe I was harder on him than I meant to be." Yurio grimaced, "Now he can't skate at all."
Viktor's brow furrowed as he saw Yuri pulling his skates off, throwing them several feet away and then making his way in just his socks to a rink-side exit on the other side of the arena. The pain Viktor felt stabbing through his chest as the blades clattered on the ice was enough to wind him. Mikhail saw the pained look on his nephew's face.
The Calgary Saddledome was a huge venue though, so any attempt to catch up with Yuri from clear across the ice was futile, so all Viktor could do was call out the man's name and hope he'd stop running...but it didn't work, surprising no one. The skater disappeared under the stands in a hurry.
"Welp, there he goes." Mikhail said dryly.
"...Unbelievable..." Yurio added quietly.
Mikhail just raised a brow at him, making the teen go quiet before anyone could remind him of his own outbursts in the past.
Viktor shook his head and stepped away, gathering up his husband's things before walking onto the ice and getting his skates. Several people who had been standing around waiting had moved out of his way without a word, feeling the tension in the air. He could still hear them whispering once he was passed them though.
'You're a World Champion gold medalist, so your blades should show it to everyone.'
The words came unbidden to his mind as he looked at the golden sheen on the metal, but stuffed them into the backpack to make the reminder fade. He realized then that Yuri's phone was in the bag as well, so any hope of calling or texting him to find out where he'd gone had suddenly gone out the window.
"...Great."
"We'll help you find him." Mari said, staying safely behind the rink wall. The other two were right behind her, but Yurio and the other Russians had stayed behind.
Viktor knew they weren't going to ditch a practice opportunity to go sort out some other skater, even if it had technically been Yurio's 'fault' that Yuri had ended up the way he did. He rose back up to his full height and threw the backpack over his shoulder, "If you find him before I do, message me, and if you can help it, don't talk to him. I want to do this my way."
.
.
.
It had eventually taken Mari going outside for a smoke-break, after 45 minutes of looking and asking if anyone had seen the young skater, before anyone finally found him. He had gone out the west entrance and was sitting at the bottom of the concrete staircase, leaning against the red-painted railing where it lead under the covered walkway with its yellow roof. Mari hadn't even recognized it was him at first, since he'd somehow acquired a dark maroon beanie while he was missing, and she couldn't see his hair from where she'd been standing at the top of the stairs behind him.
She knew she wasn't supposed to say anything to him, but part of her desperately wanted to. She was still Yuri's big sister, even if he had gotten married.
...Viktor just said not to talk to him...he didn't say anything about sitting quietly by him...
Mari pulled a drag on her cigarette one final time before stepping it out on the ground, and moved down the stairs quietly, eventually sitting on the last step next to her brother. She silently noticed he'd acquired more than just the hat, but a Styrofoam cup and something to drink as well. His socks were wet and dirty though...he hadn't found shoes, apparently.
Yuri didn't say a word to her, simply staring into the cup as he heard her texting someone. He felt as she leaned against his shoulder as she put her phone back away, and then cozied up closer to him, still quiet as a shadow.
"...Wooowww..." She finally said, having lifted her head to the dark Canadian sky and seeing a waving band of green there.
The skater lifted his red, sunken eyes as well, wondering what she'd seen, and saw the auroras waving in the night. He couldn't bring himself to reciprocate her awe though; his throat was too sore for that.
The sound of the Saddledome doors being pushed open clicked him back away from the northern lights though, and he lowered his head, losing all interest. Mari seemed to be paying keen attention though, as she rose to stand up and pat her brother on the head lightly before stepping away.
The thought that she would leave him there without having said a word, or even seeming to be worried about him, made Yuri feel even worse. He set the Styrofoam cup down and wrapped his arms around his knees as new tears filled his eyes again. He didn't hear the quiet whispering at the top of the stairs. The sound of footsteps coming down them again didn't mean anything to him; they could've belonged to anyone. Dozens of people had walked by him since he'd gotten there.
It suddenly mattered though when he heard the sound of a bag being settled on the step behind him, a sigh, and then felt as his legs were pulled out from his grasp and turned so his entire body twisted. He was about to protest, but he caught a glimpse of the silver-grey hair, and immediately took back the thought.
Viktor pulled Yuri's legs across his own and immediately pulled the ice-cold and visibly-wet socks off, wrapping them in a towel from the younger skater's backpack to dry them off. He left them bundled there and then turned a little to pull Yuri to his chest, setting his chin over the maroon beanie and just holding him.
A few minutes passed in silence, with the Russian looking up at the auroras as the cold crept in.
"How long have you been out here?"
"...D...don't know..." Yuri answered, his voice hoarse. It had only just dawned on him then that his throat was so sore because he'd cried so hard he'd lost part of his voice, and he reached his hand up to touch at it before lowering his head a little more, "...I came...straight he...here..."
"You'll get sick, and then you won't be able to skate tomorrow." Viktor leaned back a little to see if Yuri would let him look at his face, but all he got was the top of the man's covered head. He saw a black C on the front of it with flames coming off the left side, bordered once in white and again with yellow, "...Who gave you this thing anyway? You're not a hockey fan."
"S-Someone thought...I was homeless." He answered raggedly, "Gave me coffee...t-too..."
"Let me help you get inside before you catch pneumonia or something." Viktor suggested, moving to do just that, but finding Yuri stiff as a board and resistant to moving, so he settled back where he was again, "...Yuri...?"
"...Why...am I like this?"
"Yurio said some unkind things...?"
"N-no...I mean...what did I do...wrong? Why does...does everyone think I'm...arrogant?" The tears were coming fresh again, one trickling down his cheek to land on his coat, "I never...meant it this way..."
"Because I'm a bad coach." Viktor answered quietly, "I take full responsibility for what happened here."
"But...it was me..." Yuri said in a confused tone, lifting his head a little.
"No, Yuri. Listen." Viktor's own tone suddenly got rather serious, "I pushed you too hard to be just like me, and I realize that's not what I should've been doing. I got you to be more confident in yourself and to take more control over your programs, but in the process, I stopped being what I needed to be for you. By letting you have as much control over your shows as you did, I ended up letting you sow the seeds of your own failure. I should've put my foot down a long time ago and cut you off...but I spent so much time trying to be a compromising spouse that I neglected to do my duty as your coach and choreographer. I just didn't realize until it was too late that what was happening wasn't healthy for you."
Yuri just looked at him incredulously.
"So...starting today, when it comes to skating stuff...if you still want me to be your coach, then you have to play by my rules. You can have your way right up until the moment where I know it's a bad idea, just like when we did YoI together. Leave the rest to me."
"...So you're...s-saying my ideas...are bad...?"
"What? No. You're just doing too much at once. The whole point to having me as your choreographer in the first place was to help you find balance in your shows. You already have incredible talent...and after last year, your technical capabilities are vastly superior to what they used to be, too. My task is to put everything I know about your skill set to good use. If you trust me to do all that, then let me do my job, and stop usurping me when I tell you no."
Yuri was quiet in his understanding, and he nodded, even as he felt a shiver run down his back from the creeping cold. Viktor could feel it where he held the man's small frame in his arms, so he pulled one away and pat Yuri's knee to signal the time to move. He reached back to the backpack and pulled out the younger skater's shoes, slipping them onto the cold but dry feet, and then helped him back to standing. To Yuri's surprise, Viktor then shoved the backpack into his grasp, and looked at him sternly.
"...And don't ever let me see you throw these off again. I know you only meant to suggest that you didn't think you were worthy of them, but that's not what it felt like to me. You gave me this gold band," He held up his ringed hand, "...and I gave you these gold skates." He pressed against where he could feel them under the fabric of the pack, "They were my wedding gift to you, not just some trivial token. Seeing you toss them onto the ice like you did...it was like when I had to give you my ring back, except there was no explanation that you ever intended to wear them again. Don't do that to me again unless you mean to end it between us, okay?"
The words came out like a nail gun, and Yuri was stunned into horrified silence, just staring back at him like a cow just lead to slaughter.
Viktor saw the look on his face and realized what he'd said, feeling the pit in his stomach open up.
"...I...I would...n-never..." He started, "...I...c-couldn't..."
The Russian reached out with his scarf to dry the younger skater's eyes before any tears could fall, and when the scarf came away again, he leaned down to kiss him, "...I know. Me neither."