CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY EIGHT
The sound of the locker-room door closing with a squeaky thump echoed throughout the tiled hall. None of the remaining trio could think of a single word to say.
Yurio stood wide-eyed before his elders, breathing slow, shaky breaths. One hand came up towards his face, cupping his cheek where he'd been convinced he was about to get the wallop of his short lifetime. His skin still tingled from the anticipation. The pinna of his ear stung fiercely where Viktor had flicked it.
"You gonna be okay, kid?"
Green eyes twitched, but the teen looked up at the remaining silver Russian who'd spoken the words, "...I was sure he was going to do it." He answered, pulling his hand back and looking at his palm. He almost thought he'd see blood there, like he wasn't entirely convinced he hadn't been hit, "I'm not even...entirely sure I understand why he stopped."
All he could think of was the look on Viktor's face as he pulled his hand back, and it sent a chill down his spine.
...Was he really going to do it? Did...did he change his mind at the last second, or...?
The blonde shook his head, looking down at the tile floor. His entire body felt hot with adrenaline, and the slightest touch of the cool air around him felt all the more intense against his skin.
"It's done now. Go get ready. We'll wait for you."
The Russian's words sounded like they came from far away, but they managed to get through all the same. Yurio wordlessly turned away and reached for the rolling bag that Mikhail had left near the doorway, and moved with it around the corner to the line of changing stalls. The older two watched him go, and Mikhail gently pat the teen's shoulder as he went around them, turning then to the older skater still standing next to him.
"Are you going to be okay? You look pretty rattled."
Yuri almost twitched to hear the words, but then moved his eyes down again, "I was sure Viktor was going to hit him, too. I'm not even sure what I would've said or done if he had..."
"Maybe that's why he didn't."
Yuri hesitated, but then drew a shaky breath, keeping uncertain eyes low, "Maybe." He raised his hand up to his chest and pressed it over his heart, trying to calm it from the tension of the past few minutes. Another deep breath to settle his nerves, and he turned on his heel to get his things. His hands still trembled a little at his sides, but it was slowly starting to go away.
.
Black turtleneck, black dress-shirt opened in the front to the third button, black blazer held closed in front by one fastening...Yuri was a far cry from his funeralesque black-coat-white-shirt-black-tie wardrobe from his 'Grand Prix Final of Tears.' The perpetually worried look on his face was the only thing that spoiled what would otherwise be a rather slick set-up.
When he came back down the row with the rest of his things, he realized that Viktor had left without taking any of his own. A quick look around and he spotted the blue rolling suitcase and carry-bag near the sinks where the Russian had previously found him. Mikhail was practically standing over them, tapping at his phone with both thumbs.
"Minako's out front with the car if you want to throw your stuff in it." He offered, eyes peeking over the top of the device.
"In a minute." Yuri shook his head, "You said 'we' would wait, so I'll stay for now." The younger figure stepped up to the vanity and set his things aside, turning around to lean his back against the smooth white countertop. He pulled his arms up around himself, a hand loosely on each elbow as the time passed.
The silence between them after that was a little awkward. Mikhail's thumbs tapping on his phone screen was all that could be heard, save the occasional rustle of fabric or shoes around the corner.
After a minute though, the Russian huffed a laugh to himself, and then held his phone out to Yuri, "Maybe you'll like this, and it'll lighten the mood a little."
The younger man blinked, but then looked at the screen and saw something he never thought he'd see. A silver-haired kid of maybe 4 years, sitting in the snow next to a hulking, shaggy black dog.
"...Is that...?"
"Yeah, Viktor." Mikhail nodded, "With Losi."
"How did you get this...?" Yuri asked, looking back at the picture, "Viktor's mom left some photos that Konstantin grudgingly gave us, but they were all from when he was a bit older, before Yakov took him to St. Petersburg."
"I took these myself." The older man answered, pulling the screen back again to look at the image, "I dug them all out of storage after seeing Viktor at the funeral, and scanned them to my computer so I could have digital copies."
"There's more?"
"Yeah, swipe through, there's a bunch." Mikhail said, reaching over the slide his finger across the screen and get to the next photo as an example, giving the phone over to let Yuri peruse at his own pace.
The new picture there before Yuri's eyes was from the same time-frame, but the kid-Viktor was further off, chasing the shaggy dog through a snowdrift. The next was during summer, a 5-year-old sitting on top of a dilapidated tank in the middle of the woods. More photos, more memories, even a few that showed Tatiyana...and a few others that had Konstantin as well. It was weird to see images that showed what looked like a normal family; two parents, and a kid that looked pretty happy to be around them, and their big dog and their house in the middle of the wilderness.
"There aren't any photos that show you." Yuri pointed out quietly, pausing on a photo of just Viktor and his father, with Viktor looking rather excited about something where his tiny self clung to the hulking man's shoulder.
"Well, I was the one taking the pictures most of the time, but there's one or two of me that my sister took. Keep scrolling, you'll find them."
The young skater did as such while they continued to wait, huffing a laugh to himself as a few baby photos went by, revealing that even Russian Skating Legend Viktor Nikiforov did, in fact, look like a potato at one point in his life. But then he stumbled onto photos that seemed to show the present-day Viktor, albeit with longer hair. One in particular stuck outl; the figure was asleep on a couch, with a silver-haired toddler asleep on his chest.
Yuri turned the phone and gave it a strange look, wondering if he was really seeing what was shown, "Jeeze, is this you?"
Mikhail looked over, "Yup."
"You look just like Viktor." The younger man gawked, "I mean, I almost thought this was Viktor!"
"It goes back another few generations before that look kinda dissolves." The elder shrugged, "Viktor looks like me, I look like my grandfather, he looks like his uncle and so on...but then it's too ambiguous to tell where all the features came from. The silver hair though...that goes back a long ways. Far enough back that even I don't know when it started. The Nikiforovs all have those slate blue eyes though. People in that little village used to quip that Viktor was my kid rather than Konstantin's, which got really awkward sometimes...but I'd always remind them of his eyes."
Yuri sighed, "...I look like my mom when I let myself go..."
Mikhail burst out laughing, "I could see that!"
The skater cast his eyes back down to the phone, sliding through another few photos. It saddened him a little to realize that they were all from when Viktor was 5, "...These must be from right before you left."
Again, the Russian leaned over to see what Yuri was referring to, and he sighed as he pulled away, nodding, "Da."
"How come you never said you had these before?"
"I didn't want to stir up trouble."
The memory of Viktor burning the photos and letters came freshly to Yuri's mind, and he nodded again as he turned away, "Viktor said you'd never gone back after leaving...how come?"
Mikhail kept his eyes straight ahead, his poker-face cracking a little as he reached up to pull his hat off and scratch the top of his head before settling it back again, "Same reason he didn't. Once you escape...once you see the wide world and everything it has to offer...a shanty town on the side of the woods really doesn't seem that appealing anymore. Besides, I'd been there for some 25 years already...I wasn't lacking for memories of it." He shrugged up his shoulders as he drew a breath, then let them down dramatically as he exhaled, "It broke my heart to leave Viktor behind, but at least back then, he still seemed happy. If I had known what was going to happen after I left...a thousand wild horses wouldn't have stopped me from taking him."
Yuri wasn't sure how to respond to that. If Viktor had gone with his Uncle, he'd have had a better life, but maybe he never would've...
"Knowing what and who he is now though, I guess maybe it was worth it in the end." Mikhail ended the thought.
"He found out about skating pretty soon after you left."
"Guess he needed something to do to pass the time. There weren't any kids his age around at the time."
"What about school...?"
"He was home-schooled by his mom. She was brilliant. Viktor got his genius from her, no doubt about it. All his best qualities came from her. Seems he got a few of Konstantin's worst though." He crossed one arm over himself and looked at his hand, rubbing his fingers together lightly, "He's a bit more vindictive than I thought he would be."
"A lot of wrong was done to him..." Yuri said, handing back the phone as he realized that was the last of the photos in the album, "But I think he does well enough keeping himself in check most of the time. We all slip once in a while though...even him...and the last little while has been pretty stressful. We're both hoping China and Japan will be better."
"Yeah."
The awkward silence came back after that, but it was mercifully brief, as Yurio finally finished and came back to join them. His hair was up, tied loosely behind his head, and he wore a deep burgundy suit, with a dark blue dress-shirt and silver tie. Over all of it was a long, black velvet coat with a dark grey shaggy lining. It folded over onto the front of the lapels, looking quite warm.
"Ready?" Mikhail asked, reaching for Viktor's rolling suitcase.
The blonde nodded, but had nothing to say.
Yuri's brow furrowed a little to see how subdued the teen still was, so he stepped closer and put one arm over his shoulder, patting it a little where his hand came to rest on the opposite side, "You don't have to go if you don't want to."
"I'll be fine."
Yuri nodded, and pulled his backpack over his shoulders, letting the clasps dangle at his sides instead of fastening them around himself, wanting to keep his suit smooth. Viktor had picked it out, after all. As Mikhail held the door open with his foot, Yuri followed the teen out, and reached into his blazer's inside pocket to withdraw his phone, realizing he had 3 missed texts and a phonecall from his partner. He felt a slight twinge as he checked the side to see that the 'silent mode' lever was still flipped. He reset it, then unlocked the device.
[Minako-sensei is out front.]
[Yuri?]
[Are you coming or what?]
The voicemail had no message, just a click.
[Sorry.] Yuri typed with one thumb, dragging his suitcase behind him with the other hand, [My phone was still on silent from the EX and I wasn't looking at it until just now.]
By the time he'd been able to finish typing it, they were practically outside as it was, so he hit 'Send' just in time to spot Viktor at curbside, looking at his pocket. The silver Russian was leaning against the rental car next to Minako, and she held an umbrella open above them. The ballerina spotted them easily enough, raising her arm up to holler at them and getting Viktor's attention away from his phone in the process. It was hard to tell if he'd been able to read the message or not.
The man didn't look particularly thrilled to see them, though he didn't quite look angry either...he just...looked. From their distance, it was difficult to see that it was a look of emotional fatigue. It was getting harder to muster the energy for anything beyond a neutral setting.
It was lightly drizzling; enough to make their faces wet but not enough to make puddles just yet. Yuri slipped his dark-blue top coat on, and the trio moved over to the back of the car as Minako popped the trunk, reaching to help get Yurio's things while Yuri waited at the back of the 'line' with his own gear. Mikhail set Viktor's things in next, and then reached for Yuri's own cargo, shuffling things around in the trunk like a weird game of Tetris.
When he finally had his bags stowed, the young skater stepped over to where Viktor was looking back at his phone, still leaning against the passenger-side front door. He stood stiffly in front of the man, waiting for even the slightest, most tacit recognition that he was even there, but it came bitterly.
"What is it?" The Russian asked, the circles under his eyes a little more obvious in the dark of the outdoors.
Yuri felt his heart sink into his stomach, "...We're still walking there together, right?"
"Hm...I thought you were on Yurio's clock now." Viktor looked back down at his phone, thumbing through Instagram but not really looking at anything that scrolled by. His chest felt hot and his throat was sore, but he refused to give in to them.
Minako gaped at him.
Yuri's hazel eyes went wide, "...That's not...what I..."
"Viktor, knock it off." Mikhail said suddenly, "He's your spouse, not a condo. You're not Time Sharing him."
The younger Russian looked over the back of the car to his uncle, but said nothing, simply giving him a look of indignation. The hot spot dissolved with that, but the sore throat lingered.
.
"Viktor!" Minako called out, stepping out of the parked car as she unfurled the umbrella overhead, "Over here!"
The silver Russian glanced up from where he'd been looking at the stairs, having initially thought the voice was coming from some fan or reporter who wanted his attention. Realizing who it was though, he paused, and turned on his heel to walk towards her, "Oh good, someone who isn't mad at me."
"Hah?" The ballerina was perplexed, "What do you mean? Where's Yuri?"
"Inside still." He answered curtly, stepping off the curb as Minako came around the front of the car with the shelter.
She held it up a little higher to account for his height, and blinked at him as he immediately moved in to hug her, "Viktor?" She returned the gesture as well as she could, fleeting as it was.
He pulled back then and slouched back against the wet front door, exhaling a sigh as he thumped it, "I don't know how you and my Uncle handle that kid." Viktor reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes clenched shut, "I'm trying really hard to be patient, but he's working my last nerve, and just now..." He paused, looking down at where the slightest hint of a trickle was starting to stream down the edge of the curb, "...Yuri told him to apologize for his choice of words from earlier in the day, but Yurio decided to ask me to hit him instead."
"Yura wanted you to hit him...?" Minako deadpanned him.
"Da." The Russian nodded, keeping his eyes down, "Some deep, dark part of my soul really wanted to do it, too..." His eyes closed, hiding the world for a moment, "I'm worried about the kind of person I'm turning into...someone who, even for a split second, was actually willing to hit a kid."
"Everyone has moments like that." Minako said, reaching over to take the man's arm in her free hand and leaned in close, "You have the unique privilege of dealing with a guy who makes it his mission to push peoples' buttons as hard as he can sometimes. You can be forgiven for the temptation of reacting like you did. It's the fact that you restrained yourself that really matters, and that you're reflecting on it now."
"The thing of it is..." Viktor went on, turning his head slightly to look at her, "Yuri said he'd do anything to make Yurio happy again. Anything. What am I supposed to do about that? I have no problem telling Yurio to back off, but...I can't just tell my husband what he can and can't do. I feel like he entirely left me out in the cold on this."
Minako nodded, listening and contemplating, "Yuri didn't grow up with too many friends, so the ones he did have, he cherished above all others. He's fiercely loyal to the people who manage to get close to him, and he always aims to please, even at the expense of himself. He doesn't handle pressure well though...you know that better than most." She pat his arm with her fingers where she held it, "He'll calm down and revisit what he said. You and him just have to talk about setting healthy boundaries, and make sure he knows where you stand on this. Your experience with Yura is entirely different than his."
The Russian's eyes narrowed a little, skeptical of the whole thing. He pulled out his phone and loaded up the text window to his partner, "I really need him out here..."
.
"Yuri...you and Yuratchka are in the car with Minako." Mikhail's voice was commanding, "Viktor and I are walking."
"I am?" Yuri echoed, "You are?"
"Pile in, kids." Minako said anxiously, handing off the umbrella as the older man stepped over to her, "The party's probably already started."
As he took the black plastic handle on the aluminum shaft, Mikhail held it over the door to let her get into the car without getting wet, and pushed it closed before stepping towards the back of the vehicle again to get out of the street.
Yurio was already in the back seat and closing the door before she'd finished talking, but Yuri was still a little confused and hadn't moved a muscle. Viktor's coldness had literally frozen him in place. Every muscle felt tense, even as he saw the man finally put his phone into his coat pocket and reach for him.
The Russian's fingers felt like cold metal on his skin, but when he allowed himself to look up, he saw the calm blue eyes he'd known, and the hardness of his touch softened. Pale white fingers traced the edge of Yuri's jaw, lifting his face as they came to his chin, "Prošú proŝénija. Ja vas ljubljú."
Yuri only understood one word of what was said, but it was enough to let him relax a little. He snaked his arms through the opening in the front of the Russian's long-coat and slipped in past his hand, pressing his face to the man's shoulder. It was an anxious few seconds before Viktor returned the gesture, but he finally did, hugging him tightly. A few seconds passed that way, and the Russian pat his partner's back gently before getting out of the way of the passenger-side front door.
"Get in and warm up before you catch another cold." Viktor said simply, opening the door and gesturing over the door with his right hand for his partner to sit, the left still on the small of Yuri's back, "We won't be long behind you, so don't get sauced before I get there."
The younger man nodded, stepping off the curb before reaching to take the out-stretched hand with his own and kissed the gold thereupon. Brown eyes glanced back as Yuri turned, setting one leg into the footwell, half-wondering if that would really be it...if that would really be how they parted ways.
Viktor seemed to have the same thought, and when their eyes met, he gently took his hand back from where Yuri still held it, and cupped the side of his husband's cheek with it. He stroked his thumb across the damp skin, and leaned forward to kiss him properly, "We'll talk later, okay?"
The words were barely audible over the sound of other cars passing on the wet street.
Yuri blinked at him, bringing his left hand up to put it over where Viktor's was still on his face. He downcast his eyes a little, but leaned in to acknowledge the whispers with a light kiss of his own, then one more for good measure.
Once inside, Viktor pushed the door closed, and tapped the roof of the car with his free hand. As it was starting to move off, the Russian suddenly became acutely aware of his uncle's stare.
"Chto?"
The switch from English to Russian gave the new conversation a strangely detached feeling.
[You're even crueler than your father in some ways, you know that?] Mikhail said dubiously.
[I was mad, okay? It's fine now.]
[Fine? You're going to give him a coronary one of these days.] Mikhail argued, holding the umbrella over his shoulder, [Yuri doesn't deserve that.]
[You make it sound like he's the only one suffering.] Viktor retorted, starting to walk down the block to get to the corner where all the trees were.
[Yuri suffers because he feels guilty about everything. You're suffering because, what, you didn't get to pop Yuratchka in the mouth after all?] The elder Russian said, moving quickly to catch up, hoisting the umbrella more vertically so it would properly shield them both from the drizzling rain, [Would you really have done it?]
[No.] Viktor shook his head.
[Then what in the world are you still mad about?]
Viktor bit the inside of his lip, but then turned slate blue eyes to the man next to him, [Yurio's putting me in this weird position where it's my fault if he doesn't get acknowledged by Yuri.] He turned his head back again and looked at the damp sidewalk, [He doesn't even want me around anymore, like my very existence is an assault on his sense of self-worth. So if I don't give him Yuri's time and step back, then I'm the badguy.]
[It's not like you won't get Yuri back.]
[I'm not worried about not getting him back...I'm worried about letting him go in the first place.] Viktor practically sulked as he said it, [He and I have never been apart for that long unless it was specifically for a skating thing. Handing him over to Yurio makes me nervous.]
[Maybe it's time you do it a bit more often then.] Mikhail suggested, [Distance makes the heart grow fonder, right?]
[That isn't exactly something that worked for me, Uncle. I'm the guy that fled from home and never looked back, remember?]
The older Russian gawked at him, but then shrugged and looked away, [You make a habit of running away, and people will eventually stop chasing after you. But this is Yuratchka we're talking about here, not some rival for Yuri's love. He's just a kid. All he wants is someone to be proud of him.]
[I WAS proud of him!] Viktor said, his voice getting a little louder, [He crashed into his Senior debut and took Gold AND broke my Short Program record, with a program I choreographed for him! Then he took Gold at Russian Nationals 2 weeks later! The thing with his granpa was awful but it's not like it was his fault. No one would have expected him to perform as well as he usually did when he was so worried, and I never stopped being proud of him because of that.]
[The only reason he took those Gold Medals was because you weren't there to stop him. You sent Yuri in your place and he resented it. He thought it was some kind of cruel joke. 'Five Time World Champion Viktor Nikiforov, represented by Grand Prix Sochi wash-out and general loser who, at age 23, still can't land a quad Salchow, Yuri Katsuki' and all that.]
Viktor looked at him incredulously, [Why would you say something like that? How would you even know? You weren't around back then.]
[It's true that I wouldn't have known just from watching the events or from listening to interviews, but Yuratchka told me this stuff himself.]
Blue eyes blinked, [He...told you that himself? Why? He treats you like a Minder.]
Mikhail shrugged again, [Momentary lapse in judgment? I dunno. But that's what he said. We were on our way to Fukuoka on one of our trips back to Hasetsu, and he mentioned how mad he was that he wasn't at his best at Worlds when you'd finally come back to competition. He hated that you quit skating the same year he was going to join you in Seniors, and that he'd have to compete against a guy he hated and looked down on instead. He vowed to crush Yuri and take Gold just to spite you.]
The younger figure just grumbled to himself, [He puts on a good show about how he doesn't care if I'm around or not. Tried to kick me off a pier in Barcelona before saying just that.]
The trees dripped heavier droplets of water on the umbrella as they passed beneath them.
[Did he also tell you about his ulterior motive?]
Viktor glanced at him sideways, [...He had one?]
[Yuri hadn't planned on continuing to skate after the Grand Prix, right? Yuratchka told me he wanted to take Gold so Yuri would regret quitting for the rest of his life, like a punishment.]
[And this is the kid that I'm supposed to let Yuri have unsupervised visitation with?]
Mikhail laughed, [You make it sound like you're sending Yuri to visit him in prison or something!]
[This isn't funny! I'm being serious!]
[That's all ancient history. Everything is different since the end of Worlds. What could possibly happen between them now?] The elder glowered at him, though still amused from before, [Yuri is Yuratchka's only real friend. He knows that guy from Little Former Russia, but it's not like either of them has the funds to go hang out with one another outside of competition, and he can't just book a plane ticket as a minor anyway. Yuratchka's outburst at Worlds was basically his death-scream for realizing you were entirely lost to him. So, when Yuri came along to try and prop him up, he latched on.]
[I'm not going to start marking my calendar for Yurio Night.]
[Yuratchka still lives in St. Petersburg, and you two don't. It won't kill you to just let them hang out on their own once in a while when we're in town. Yuri has other friends he already does that with.]
[Yuri's other friends don't have a habit of making him cry or feel bad about himself.]
[Oh, you mean like you just did?]
Viktor sunk into himself, but said nothing.
[I'd give you credit for that one, but I can't. Like I said, that's all in the past. Lilia told him that the only people who are strong are the ones who can be reborn as many times as necessary...and Yuratchka considered himself dead to the world after he got cut from the team. Yuri helped him be reborn again.] Mikhail nudged the man with his elbow, [Yuri is the only person he really cares about. Hurting him was only ever a side-effect of his attempts at hurting you, and he really never meant for it to hurt Yuri as much as it did. He's still learning what it means that you two are a unit. When it's just them on their own, it's all 'katsudon pirozhki.']
Viktor grumbled, [I don't like it. I haven't seen Yurio be nice to anyone in a really long time. Yuri even told me about the pirozhki thing at Rostelecom and I still have a hard time believing it.] He turned to face his elder, hands up and expressive, [After everything that came before, Yurio gives his hated rival a birthday present straight from his own grandpa's kitchen? It just blows my mind.]
[It's not like you have to let Yuri go right now. The competition is over and everyone's getting ready to leave. You won't even see Yuratchka again until the Final. By then, I hope you've had a chance to cool down and talk to your spouse about all this. I really want to see that Team Skate. I think working together would go a long way to mending some of the broken bridges.]