CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TEN
The train ride out of Paris was made in drizzly wet darkness. Rain splattered against the outside of the windows, the dim light of the cabin glistening off every drop.
They were on board an antique-looking train called the 'TGV Atlantique.' Despite outside appearances, the fact that the model had been built around the time either of the two skaters had been born was just a façade. The inside had been refurbished at some point to be much more comfortable and modern. First class wasn't quite on the same level as an airplane, but it was still better solely by virtue of the fact that Viktor didn't have his knees squashed up against some other seat right in front of him.
By virtue of luck, or perhaps the hour, there were no other passengers sharing their small 4-person unit. The two slate-grey plush seats faced forward, with an odd-looking table between them and the reverse-facing pair of seats on the other side. The table itself was interesting, as Yuri noted when Viktor fixed it to make room; it was built in segments, with the edges folding up to make room for passengers to get into their seats and sit down. Each small cabin was open for the most part, but with darkened Plexiglas panels for the 'privacy' of the aisle-seat passenger. On the other side of the aisle were single-wide seats, one each facing another reverse-facing chair like their own compartment.
Expecting to sleep a while longer, Yuri took the aisle side, while Viktor sat against the window. But in the end, it was Viktor who ended up asleep, and Yuri had to finagle a way to get his neck-pillow around his husband without waking him up, which was a little difficult. He managed in the end, and settled to lean against Viktor's shoulder while he played around on his phone. He couldn't help but listen to the song the Russian had picked for their Team Skate on repeat for almost the entire trip to Bordeaux, bobbing his head now and then to the beat. The more he thought about performing it at the Grand Prix Final, the more excited he got, especially since Viktor was pretty confident Yurio would agree to be part of it.
His mind wandered back to his Thai friend though.
I'll call Phichit-kun later and see if he's interested in hanging out in Hasetsu after NHK. I'll have to go to Bangkok with him at some point, too...
It was pouring even harder when the train finally pulled into the station, and it pounded on the metal roof of the terminal like a thousand military drums. Yuri moved his hand down to the Russian's thigh to try and wake him up.
"Neh, Viktor...we're here."
"...Mmh..."
Yuri shook his head and laughed quietly as he moved out into the aisle to pull their meager travel bags down from the open shelf directly above their seats. Viktor reluctantly pushed to stand, shuffling into the small walkway as he grabbed his own bag from Yuri's hand, slinging it over his shoulder before following his husband to the exit.
The terminal was still dark because of the weather, but it was at least a little lighter since sunrise. The Russian yawned and blearily moved towards the arrival building.
"You've been here before, right?" Yuri wondered, adjusting where his backpack sat on his shoulders as he followed and looked around.
"Mh. My last French event was here, back when it was still called Trophée Éric Bompard. It's been eight years though. I was starting to think the ISU didn't want me coming here again."
"...Why would they do that? Would it matter?" Yuri wondered.
Viktor got a little quiet after that, but then shook his head, "Second girlfriend. She lives here. Or at least, she did back then."
"Oh..." The younger figure answered, remembering the story Viktor had told.
"Maybe that's why you jumped the fence." Yurio joked, "You've only ever had crazy girlfriends."
"That's not true!" Viktor insisted, slouching back again, "The second one was nice..." He lifted his head as he thought back on it, "She was beautiful, too..."
Yuri looked a little uncomfortable, even though he told himself over and over that he shouldn't feel that way given how long ago it was.
But Viktor continued on, "Long, wavy, pale blond hair...blue eyes like the ocean. Ahh if only she hadn't gotten hurt..."
"Huh?"
"She was a skater." The Russian explained, "But she tore her ACL during practice once, and the surgery to fix it left her in recovery for almost an entire year. She was so heartbroken by the process that she got really depressed and broke it off with me, saying she didn't want to hold me back." He seemed somber at the memories of it, "I dedicated my Grand Prix Final to her that year, but she never took me back. I even started learning French for her, since she had a hard time with English..."
"She always wanted to move to Paris, since that's where all the action was." Viktor went on, "I don't know if that ever happened since she stopped skating though."
"Do you miss her...?"
The Russian paused and looked back at him, "...Sure, we were good friends aside from the fact that we dated for a while. She helped me get my accent right." He went back around to get into the main atrium, the bright lights shining down onto them, casting their reflections into the polished marble-looking-but-not-quite-marble floor, "After she broke things off with me, it's like she vanished off the face of the Earth though. I messaged her for a long time to see how she was doing, but she never answered back. The one time I got a text reply, it was from a friend of hers using her phone, asking me to stop. So, I did..."
Yuri couldn't tell if the look on Viktor's face was just from being tired, or if he was sad to be reminded of that particular part of his past. He didn't want to keep prying though, since it made him anxious to hear about it. He looked around the atrium to get his mind off of it, seeing all the posters advertizing the Grand Prix event, and the images of various skaters on each of them. It didn't take him long to spot one of himself on the second floor, and when he looked up, saw the huge hanging ad with Viktor himself on it.
The silver-haired skater paused when he heard Yuri's footsteps stop, and looked back over his shoulder to wonder what happened. Seeing his husband's eyes looking up, he turned his own to follow them, and saw the ad as well, "...Yeah, they would do that."
"Eh?"
He huffed a laugh at himself and lowered his head, "I'm often called a 'National Hero' back home, but the French took a special liking to me, too. Look..." He pointed up at where the one other hanging ad was located at the end of the second floor overhand, "The only other skater that got a picture that big was a native. The French Federation of Ice Sports likes to brag about how I chose to learn French over any other language. Hmph...if only they knew it was for selfish reasons...or if they knew I'm trying to learn Japanese now, too."
Yuri was wordless, entirely for lack of knowing what to say.
"Oh, look...there's yours." Viktor said, pointing to where he could see the poster above the end of the stairwell, "It's the first one people see coming up the stairs, so that's a good spot. The one of me might be huge, but it'll probably get overlooked by anyone who isn't coming in from the far termina-"
Arms went around him suddenly, clutching behind his back as a face buried itself in his scarf. Raven-black hair brushed against his face softly, and those arms squeezed a little tighter.
"Sorry."
"...Huh?" The Russian was entirely lost, but he returned the hug before it got awkward that he hadn't already.
"I wasn't thinking. I should've been able to guess the answer to my question before I asked it." The younger skater said, keeping his head low, "Sorry."
"...It was years ago. Don't worry about it."
Yuri grabbed at the fabric of Viktor's coat a little tighter, "...I know what it's like to be fond of someone and have it taken away from me suddenly, remember? I know how unfair it can feel. It might've been eight years ago for you, but it's been six for me and it still sometimes burns. It's like the person died and you never had a chance to say goodbye. They're just gone. They move on without you and never look back."
The older skater held on for a little while, thinking on Yuri's words.
...It's interesting to realize how similar we both are, even if we're so different...
"Yuri." He finally said, "Yuri, look at me."
Messy black hair moved aside to reveal curious hazel eyes, but Viktor just closed his own and turned his head, leaning in to kiss his husband. Yuri's eyes were wide open for a moment, closing only when he felt the Russian's hand softly coming up behind his head. He held there for a little while, only opening his eyes again a little when he felt Viktor pulling away.
"...There's a saying, that everything happens for a reason." The silver-haired skater started, rubbing his thumb through Yuri's hair where he still had his hand on the back of the man's head, "...But sometimes, that reason is because we're all a little stupid and make bad choices. In this case, two women made the worst choices they ever could've because they chose to ignore or forsake us. It wasn't our fault. To me, it just means I got one step closer to finding you. I may wax poetic about lost love, but I think...even if I somehow ran into Sophia again, I'd probably spend the whole time showing off my ring and bragging about how happy I am. So...don't worry about it."
Hazel eyes got rather shiny to hear it, and Yuri nodded, leaning into Viktor's scarf again before finally unclasping where his fingers were clutched around the man's jacket.
"Now, let's get out of this place. We have a Russian Kitten to torment." Viktor suggested, slipping his arm behind the younger man's back to pull him towards the stairs, "...Also, I need coffee."
.
.
.
They stood just outside the hotel door. It was just past 9am when Viktor sent the message to his uncle that they were there. A few seconds after the message was sent, the door opened, a bag was thrown out onto the floor by Yuri's feet, and a particular blonde was shoved outside after it.
"Have a great day, Yuratchka!"
The door closed hard. The deadbolt and an inside-only lock could be heard getting fastened, and then silence.
Yurio looked up at the silver-haired Russian with an utterly perplexed look on his face, but then rage settled in and he spun on his heel to kick hard at the heavy brown panel in front of him, "IDIOT, WHAT WAS THAT FOR!? GEEZER! OLD MAN! STUPID! OPEN THE DOOR!"
"Hi, Yuri~" The two said together.
Yurio side-eyed them, "Hang on a minute." He went back to kicking the door, "MY PHONE IS STILL IN THERE."
The door cracked just enough for the item to get tossed out and then slammed shut again; more clicking.
Viktor wouldn't give it anymore time, wrapping an arm across the blonde's chest from behind and dragging him backwards across the carpet towards the elevators, "Let's go practice!"
"Haaahhh?"
Yurio started to flail, eventually getting loose as they stood in the adjacent hall, though it was mostly because his superior let him go.
"The Hell are you guys doing in Bordeaux already!? The competition isn't until next weekend!"
"We know. Rostelecom is happening right now." Viktor pointed out, "Surprise!" He waved a few fingers at him where they had held onto a coffee cup, the other hand back in his coat pocket by then.
Yuri just stood with both arms out to the side, "We're going to do our own Rostelecom while we're waiting for Trophée de France to start, with just the three of us."
Yurio just blinked at him, but then scoffed and stepped forward to give the hug he owed, "Why didn't you warn me? I could've been better prepared."
"The whole point was to surprise you!" Viktor said eagerly, "You've had enough time to think about doing the Team Skate Exhibition. We thought we could help coerce you into agreeing by coming down to show you what we've worked on so far."
"...What, you think you can get me to want to say yes by trying to make me jealous that I haven't already?" Yurio raised a brow at that, "What kind of plan is that?"
"The best we can come up with given the circumstances." Yuri pointed out with a weak laugh, letting the blonde go after that, "Today and tomorrow will be the last times the skating arena here is open to the public before they shut it down to get it ready for the event. So, now or never."
The elevator doors opened up, and the trio went in.
Back in the hotel room, Mikhail dropped face-first into the first bed, arms and legs splayed out like road kill, "He's finally gone..."
"How long are they going to keep him for?" Minako asked, doing much the same, but face-up.
"Viktor promised to keep him at least until late afternoon." The Russian answered, "So we have all day to ourselves."
"I haven't been so exhausted in ages. Watching a teenager for more than an hour a day is hard work...!" The woman lamented hazily, "...Sweet sleep...here I come..."
"...The truth has been spoken..."
.
.
.
With the Russian Tiger fed and sated for the moment, the trio finally made their way through pouring rain to the soon-to-be competition venue. They quickly shuffled their way up the curving stair-way and ran for the cover of the green triangular-shaped overhanging 'roof' over one of the many entrances along the front of the building. "Patinoire de Bordeaux" was in big blue letters above the doors.
Despite the downpour, a few people who were walking by with their umbrellas still seemed to have the time to holler at them from across the street. Viktor waved back at them happily, but the two Yuris kept to themselves, as usual.
A sign on the door stated that the rink was booked for a private event for half the day, and Yurio pointed it out, but the older Russian just winked at him.
"That's because I booked it."
"...How much money do you have sitting around just so you can do shit like this?" The blonde wondered.
"Pfft, plenty. Yuri just won $18,000 for his gold at Skate Canada, remember? Since he doesn't have to waste it on coaching or rink fees, we can waste it on stuff like this instead!" Viktor announced, "Besides, if I medal at all this coming weekend, we'll recoup what was spent today. It really wasn't all that expensive anyway."
"'If' you medal?" Yurio gaped, "As if you have any reason to doubt it."
Viktor just laughed, "Even if I already knew for a fact that I'd win, giving the benefit of the doubt is always for the best. After all, you beat my Short Program record by nearly three points before I took it back."
"...And you beat it in turn by four more points. How is a mortal human even supposed to be able to catch up with that now?" The blond complained, "People are going to have to learn how to fucking fly."
"Language." Yuri elbowed him, "Anyway though...we've booked it until 4pm. After that, we'll go shopping around for our outfits!"
"Quit talking about this like I've already agreed! If I don't like what I see, I'll leave!"