CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY
The thunderstorm continued well into the night, with thunder rolling gently across the sky after a prelude of lightning. Yuri had found himself awake and listening to it, taking comfort in the ease of droplets on glass, coming in waves on the wind.
A flash of lightning crept across the underbelly of the storm-head, illuminating the room with a strobe of pale light.
One... Two... Three... Four...
A crack of thunder, tumbling down into a crescendo of lesser thrums, like a lion's roar being replied to by others farther away.
As per usual, sometime in the middle of the night, as though on a timer, Viktor had rolled to his side and pulled Yuri's back to his chest, arms around his smaller frame to keep him close, cheek against the nape of his neck. There were a few times where he'd relaxed and slipped off again though, and this was one of those times. He was halfway onto his back again, the arm wedged between his partner's waist and the mattress staying in place while the one that went overtop started the drift away. Another crack of thunder rolled through though, and it was loud enough to actually make the silver skater twitch and wake up with a start.
Startled blue eyes scanned the room as Viktor pushed up onto his elbows, but when nothing was there, he lowered down to his back again with a 'paff' against the pillow.
"That was the loudest one yet." Yuri commented, turning his head away from the thinly-covered windows, "You've slept through the rest."
"...You've been awake the whole time?" The Russian wondered blearily, his words almost drunkenly incoherent from still being half in slumber, "Why?"
"I like to listen to the rain sometimes." He answered, "But thunder actually woke me up about 15 minutes ago, so I haven't been up all that long." Yuri flipped over after that, twisting until he was on his opposite side and facing his husband instead of looking away.
Viktor rubbed his eyes and then turned to meet him, feeling a leg come up between his own as a pair of thin arms went around his neck and shoulders, fingers going through his hair to gently pull his head down.
"Try to go back to sleep. It's almost 4am." The younger man advised, "Sleep right up to the start of the Free Skate."
"Hmm..." The Russian mused, sliding one arm under Yuri's and settling the other in the curve of his waist, "Always."
.
.
.
Viktor's team track-suit was stiff and smelled faintly of the rain when the pair finally got up to get ready, so the Russian forewent wearing it altogether. That, and his SP outfit. Both were gathered up into clothing-totes and given over to the hotel's laundry service to be dry-cleaned. Viktor was anxious about leaving them in untrained hands, but Yuri eventually convinced him that a 4-star hotel would have a lot of explaining to do if they lost or damaged his outfits.
"...Or are you just using that as an excuse to avoid going to the Patinoire until the last possible second?"
"Why not both?" Viktor huffed, pulling his scarf up a little over his chin as Yuri, sans glasses this time, pulled him closer to the doors to leave.
They were about halfway down the block, stepping through fading puddles and listening to cars drive through larger ones, before Yuri could feel his partner starting to slow down again. Even the excited shrieks of passing fans did little to instill cheer in the Russian, and often garnered little more than a half-assed-but-well-meant smile and a nod before returning back to looking at the ground just ahead of where he was stepping.
Yuri stopped where he was, the sound of small, hard-rubber wheels from Viktor's rolling suitcase coming to a halt as well. Viktor paused quickly as he noticed it, and lifted his eyes a little, trailing from the bottom of his husband's scarf to finally looking at his eyes.
"What's wrong?"
"I don't want you to think you have to walk on eggshells all afternoon." Yuri answered, "We don't even know if she's going to show her face again."
"She will. She has to." Viktor said, looking off with a pained half-sigh, "Neither of us can avoid it."
"...What are you talking about?"
The Russian looked back down again, adjusting where the clothing bag sat over his shoulder where he slung it, "While you were getting dressed, I was checking local news websites to see if I could find which one she belonged to. I found it, but unfortunately, they've gone out of their way to make a huge deal out of my being here...Sophia's basically being strong-armed into finding a way to interview me, one way or another."
"Seems kind of cruel to do to either of you." Yuri commented bluntly, twisting on his heels to keep walking again, giving his husband's hand a gentle squeeze where he held it between them, "Or maybe they don't even know about your shared history."
"I doubt that." Viktor said, huffing a quiet sigh as he lifted his head to look out at the road, "Odds are good that, aside from the French skater, mine's the only name they know...so if anyone ever caught wind of the fact that Sophia knows or knew me, they'd want to bank on that association to get them easy access, regardless of what it means for either of us. A lot has changed since I left this place. Coming back here with the record that I have now...all these people are going to want a piece of me, like some long-lost relative finding out their cousin won the lottery. Everyone suddenly wants to be best friends because they want a piece of the pie... It's just that in this case, the pie is me."
"Well, you can't make it your fault that her bosses want her to talk to you. If you'd rather avoid her outright, then I'll keep an eye out to make sure she never gets that close." Yuri suggested.
The Russian just shook his head lightly, "It's fine, really. I had my moment when she turned up yesterday. I don't think I'll be that emotionally raw again if I see her today. I think I'd almost feel better if we got it out of the way rather than putting it off."
"...I'll leave it to you, then."
"You don't want me to talk to her at all." Viktor said flatly, more a statement than a question, slate eyes scanning the younger man for a flinch of guilt, but finding none, "I get it."
Yuri just shook his head, "I don't want you to be upset. You said at the train station that if you ever ran into her, you'd probably just brag about how we're married and show off your ring...but that's entirely not what actually happened. It's not that I don't believe you, I just think you're underestimating how much the past still haunts you."
The Russian had nothing to say to that, pursing his lips a little as he struggled with how to reply.
"You're pretty good at putting stuff at the back of your mind, and ignoring things that bother you, right up until the moment where it's brought out and shoved in your face. Then, it's like...you get these glassy eyes. It happened back at Four Continents when you were trying to explain Yakov's texts, it happened when we had to go meet Konstantin for the address of the funeral, and it happened yesterday when whatsherface showed up by Chris."
"You know her name, yet you refuse to say it."
Yuri nodded, but shrugged, turning brown eyes up to meet blue, "Naming a thing gives it power. I refuse to give her any. You're my husband, not hers, and until or unless I know what she wants, I have to keep her as powerless in my mind as I can."
"She wants to run away from this place as fast as legs can carry her."
"Maybe that's just what she wants you to think. Did she play hard-to-get originally?"
Viktor's eyes winced, but he nodded, "...It was like trying to catch vapor with a net. No matter what I did, she only ever accepted me as a slightly flirtatious friend... Things only changed after she decided they would change."
"And she initially seemed fairly happy and interested when she did that interview with me, but as soon as I made a point to correct what my last name was, she and her crew got all shifty. My first thought was that they were all disgusted to hear it, but now that I know who she is, I wonder if it wasn't just stunned disappointment." Yuri stepped in closer and rubbed shoulders, "She might've come up here thinking she could rekindle what you had, only to retreat when she realized I was an obstacle. All this 'wanting to get away' stuff might just be because her grand plans got messed up and she's trying to regroup."
Again, Viktor was left without a response.
"But if you have a better idea on what I should do, then I'll just follow your lead like always."
"I'm at a loss on this one." He answered with a whine, "...I don't feel like she was ever the sort of person to try and cause problems, but I never thought she'd kick me to the curb either, so I don't really know what she's going to do here. It's been such a long time, too...people change."
The short, rounded staircase leading into the arena was just ahead, and the crowd of people got thicker, held at bay only by a pair of barricades to give athletes a path to walk through. At one point, Viktor caught sight of someone who had a brown poodle puppy in their arms, and it made him miss Makkachin all the more. He was half-tempted to go over to whoever the puppy belonged to just to pet the tiny creature, but he thought better of it when he felt Yuri tugging on him to avoid tripping on the first step.
"You'll never get away if you go over there." The younger skater pointed out.
"...I know..."
"Two more weeks, and then we'll be back in Hasetsu." Yuri offered, turning on his heel where he stood on the first step, letting go of the rolling suitcase long enough to press down on the fluff of his husband's scarf to give the man a quick kiss, "Back in our own house, with our own bed, and our own couch, one crazy poodle, and two huge bowls of my mom's katsudon for each of us for the Gold Medals we'll bring back before the Final."
Viktor's eyes closed as he smiled and tilted his head a little, "Two for you, maybe, but I can have all I want. I'm not the one who gains weight easily."
Yuri deadpanned him, "...That's so cold...!"
"As your coach, it's my duty to make sure you stay in peak physical condition!"
"You aren't a coach at this event though!"
"I won't retire from being your coach until you retire from skating, remember? That's what you asked of me."
Hazel eyes widened a little at that, but then Yuri's face relaxed into the same smile he'd given the Russian when he'd made that proposition in the first place at Fukuoka Airport, "Yeah."
Camera flashes were going off all around them, but neither paid any attention. Yuri was too busy leaning off the edge of the stair and into his husband, and Viktor was too busy making sure Yuri didn't fall because of it. Neither noticed as Viktor's rolling suitcase was dragged away; there were too many people passing by as it was. One last kiss and Yuri was standing normally again, hand reaching for the handle he knew should've been there, and suddenly having a mental panic attack as he realized it was gone, his hand groping at air.
"I swear, I could rob you two blind if I wanted." A familiar voice stated from the top of the stairs.
Brown and blue eyes looked up to meet grey-green, and a wave of relief washed over the young skater to see the suitcase just ahead of him.
"Mikhail! We missed you yesterday!"
"You should really be more careful where you decide to get lost in each other." The older Russian explained, trying to look cordial despite the gravity of what he was saying, "Not everyone around here would intend to give you your stuff back."
"Uncle." Viktor followed, "How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough. Let's get inside before it starts to rain again. This system's going to hover until long after we're gone." He answered, pointing a finger casually at the sky.
More camera flashes followed as the two silver-haired Russians stood next to one another, and Viktor gave the crowd one last wave before ducking in through the doors. It took all of three seconds before Viktor found his uncle pressing the underside of his wrist against his forehead suddenly, holding, and then letting him go again.
"Well at least you aren't feverish." The Rozovsky said, handing Yuri back the rolling case so he could pocket his hands again, "That was kinda dumb to run around in the rain like you did yesterday."
Viktor balked, "...Sheesh, you weren't even there; what'd you hear?"
"I wasn't there?" Mikhail echoed, "Maybe not for all of it, but I went outside trying to find you and saw your dumbass running through the rain without an umbrella. That's why you aren't wearing your team colors today, right? It got soaked right through and probably smells like pond scum now."
The younger Russian was, for the third time that early afternoon, at a loss for words.
"Yakov asked me to find you if he didn't find you himself. Can't you feel the energy in this place? If people were bees, half the audience would have to be out here, buzzing their wings just trying to keep the place cool. You really stirred up shit yesterday."
"What? How'd I do anything?" Viktor retorted, almost defensively.
The younger skater nodded in agreement, "You didn't do anything...he's just being dramatic."
Mikhail held his hands out as though holding things in the palms of each, "Something about a 'young, beautiful woman' and then 'Viktor's sweet, sweet tears.'" He slapped them together in a loud clap, drawing the attention of half the atrium, "Boom!" Jazz-hands, "Drama."
"Sheesh, lay it on a little thicker, will you? I'm only standing right here." Yuri grumbled.
"Some old flame turned up." The elder went on, being rather on point, and to the point, "That's why you practically ran out of this place like rat from a sinking ship."
"...It's a little more complicated than that." Viktor explained, nudging his head for them to move along to the prep area, and started to walk that way, "But it's no one's business but my own."
"You guys are normally all over Instagram. Haven't you seen the posts about it? You're acting all oblivious."
"Err..." Yuri commented tepidly, "Well, I haven't been looking...have you?" Eyes went up to his husband curiously.
"I haven't checked since before the Short Program."
"So you are oblivious."
"How bad is it?"
"It's getting a bit rough. Some folks have found archival footage of you and that girl back when you were still dating. A lot of people are wondering you're going to leave Yuri to go back to her."
Yuri choked on himself as he heard it, and had to pause and cough, trying to catch his breath.
Viktor stopped and rubbed his husband's back gently until the fit had passed, then turned back to his uncle, "A lot of people were wondering if I was retiring as a competitor when I went to coach Yuri last year, too...and they were wrong. They're wrong about this, too. Why in the world would I leave him for someone who broke up with me nearly a decade ago?" He had a pained look on his face; the idea was incredibly offensive to him, "Why would I leave Yuri at all? We're practically inseparable. We had to change all of our plans after the Final last year because we'd gotten engaged."
Mikhail shrugged, stuffing his hands back into his coat pockets, "I'm not the one asking...but others might. I'd advise you avoid Instagram until after this event is over and things have settled down again. I'll keep an eye out for this woman in case she's here again today. Do you want me to send her off if I see her?"
Yuri looked up from where his eyes had been watering from the coughing fit, waiting to hear the answer. With all the new information, it might've changed the paradigm.
"No." Viktor said with finality, "I already told Yuri the same thing earlier. If she's here, let her come to me. If she's not, then a whole lot of people got their feathers ruffled over nothing. I'm not going to let it distract me...I have a Gold Medal to win." He grasped his partner's head gently and pulled him close to kiss the side of his cheek, "Practice starts in 30 minutes. I'm going to go change. You should find Yurio and the rest and set-up shop there. I'll be along soon enough."
"...Shouldn't I come with you?" Yuri wondered, feeling where the Russian's fingers were still woven through his hair, holding him there briefly, "If she's here, I don't want you to face her alone."
"You shouldn't have to feel that way." Viktor pointed out, giving the younger figure some slack to turn and face him, "It won't be like before. I promise."
Yuri sighed, but knew it would be pointless to argue.
...You sometimes forget your promises though...