CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FOURTY SIX
After a brief side-trip to drop off skates and other related equipment in the hotel room, the rest of the day was spent sight-seeing. A little had already been done while scouting the competition venue, but largely, Shanghai had been left untouched.
"If we start at The Bund, we can see a whole bunch of other things." Viktor explained, trying his best to look at a map he'd found at the hotel while he and Yuri were crammed like sardines into the subway, "The east side of the river has photo-ops like the Oriental Pearl TV Tower and the Financial Building, but if you're not interested in just looking at stuff, we could stick to the west side of the river and go to the Shanghai Museum and Yuyuan Garden." He tilted back a little so he could look down and get a better view of his partner, "The Nanjing Road is there, too, so maybe you'll find a souvenir you like?"
"I'msoclaustrophobicrightnow." Yuri mumbled, squashed right up against the Russian by the pressing crowd. That in itself didn't bother him whatsoever...but feeling some other body behind him did. It was all he could do to avoid panicking in the swarm of other people.
He'd held a map in his hands as well, and had meant to look at it while they decided where they were going to go, but as people clambered on board the train alongside them, it quickly became clear that he would have no such luck. Viktor had to wrangle his husband out of the mass of business-casual flesh, one arm tight around his torso to keep the shorter figure from being dragged away like a log in a tsunami. After that, Yuri just turned and buried himself into the Russian's long-coat, arms around his sides, trying to hold the map up behind the man's shoulder in a desperate bid to avoid eye-contact with whoever was standing in front of him.
"Keep calm and stammi vicino." Viktor suggested, gently rubbing the younger man's back a little to try and calm his nerves. He turned his face inward to kiss his partner's neck a little, "We'll take a taxi back after this, okay?"
He could feel Yuri's fingers clamp down a little harder where they gripped at his coat, the younger skater turning his own face to bury it against a shoulder anxiously. Slate-blue eyes moved up to scan the carriage, trying to see if there was anywhere at all where there was a little more space, but found nothing. In fact, all he found were dozens of brown eyes looking back at him, only to quickly turn away when spotted. The Russian blinked in confusion.
"People are staring at us." He whispered quietly, "I don't think they're skating fans though...no one's freaking out like they normally do."
"They're not staring at us." Yuri corrected, "They're staring at you."
"Hah? Why just me?"
The shorter figure glanced up at him, "How many other nearly-6-foot-tall silver-haired Russians do you see standing around?"
"Oh." Viktor deadpanned, smiling anyway though, "I guess I do kind of stick out more than normal~!"
"Only 'kind of'?" Yuri echoed, hazarding a glance around, and seeing the waves of black-haired heads all around, "...Jeeze, I really blend in with this crowd... If I got dislodged, you'd probably lose me here."
"Don't kid yourself." The Russian huffed, "I'd recognize you even if you had your head covered."
"Eh? How?"
"Only you carry yourself like you do. The way you walk, even the way you look around...only you do it that way." Viktor explained, raising up the map again behind Yuri's shoulder as he continued to hold to the man's back with the other arm, "There's no one else in the world like you, Yuri."
The train was starting to slow for the next station, and the young skater held on a little tighter as Viktor's map-holding hand folded the paper away to reach for one of the poles bolted to the interior walls. The flood of people inside the car quickly evacuated as the doors opened, only to be replaced just as quickly with a new wave, each one scrambling to claim their single-square-foot of real-estate. And just like that, the train started picking up speed again.
When they were at cruising-velocity, Viktor let go of the post, and moved that arm to wrap around his partner's shoulders, "You got really quiet all of a sudden."
Hazel eyes blinked, "Oh...I..." Yuri started, turning his head around on Viktor's shoulder to look around the cabin again briefly, "I guess I've just been around people like you too much lately. Being in Europe and Canada, everyone looks so different and unique...even me. But as soon as we got here to China, I had this couple of hours where it felt like everyone looked exactly the same...even me. I was reminded of it just now, and it made me a little sad, that's all."
Viktor pulled his head up and looked evenly at his partner, the pair of them so close that he could see his own reflection in the man's glasses. He had a somewhat serious look on his face, which starkly contrasted his usual happy-aloof demeanor, "You're doing it again."
"Eh?" Yuri squeaked in surprise, "D-Doing what again!?"
"Doubting yourself."
"...Am I?" He turned his eyes to look away.
"Maybe it's because of Skate Canada, or maybe it's just how you've always been...but I notice that when you get anxious about a competition, it's not enough that you mess up your jumps." Viktor explained, pressing his forehead and the bridge of his nose against the side of his husband's head, just above his ear, "You lose sight of yourself. You forget everything you've learned and ignore your own accomplishments."
Am I really that bad...?
"You told me at the wedding party that your heart, mind, and soul are divided among the four great loves. That Agape sometimes gives way to Eros, but sitting at the back of it all, never quite gone but never quite present either, was Philia. It waits and watches, clinging to a view of the past that's no longer reconcilable. The part that constantly questions what I see in you, why I chose you over everyone else...the part that makes you see yourself as unworthy." The Russian went on.
To Yuri, the sound of his voice was all he could hear. The train, the tracks, the sound of people bumping up against each other, phone screens being tapped on, some kid in the back making weird noises like he couldn't quite figure out if he was hurt or not...it all faded into the background, almost inaudible altogether.
"When you let it take over, you forget what you're capable of." Viktor continued, "You forget things, like skating, that are second-nature to you. You let yourself be absorbed into the collective and try to disappear, to be invisible, like you feel you always have been." He nudged his shoulder a little to get the skater to look at him again, and when slate met hazel, he leaned forward to kiss the man for a few moments. When he stopped, he barely pulled back enough to speak, eyes half-closed as he looked on, "You may think that the world sees you as less than nothing sometimes, but to me, you are the world. You're my partner, my lover, my best friend, my husband..."
Yuri's face went red again, but it just served to draw a smile on the Russian's face.
"But beyond all that...you're Japan's best figure skater and you've won Gold at your last 3 straight events, 4 if you let yourself count Nationals.. You know you're good enough, so keep going. It's okay to let yourself be anxious, just don't let it cripple you. Let me be the one to bear the weight of that worry."
"V-Viktor..."
"You're a pork cutlet fatale that seduces men...a mistake here and there won't be enough for you to lose your charm. No one's perfect all the time anyway...if we were, the world would be pretty boring, don't you think?" He went on, moving his hand away again to reach for the post, seeing the signal that the next station was a few seconds away.
Yuri held a little tighter again, looking around nervously as he felt the carriage starting to slow beneath them. The bustle of people getting ready to disembark was enough to silence them both for a moment, giving the young Asian skater a reprieve to gather his thoughts.
I'm so nervous about whether or not I can win Gold this weekend that I can't even let myself enjoy going out on a date with Viktor. I'm too focused on all my doubts... If I can't figure out how to let them go, I'll crash and burn like JJ did last year, just like how I did at Sochi the year before...
The passengers that were leaving had all finally gotten off the train, and the new arrivals were starting to pour in, surrounding them on all sides again.
But I don't even know why I'm so worried. I have the best coach and choreographer in the world, and I don't skate any worse than before just because others around me have gotten better.
The sliding doors closed again, and the train started moving, lurching everyone back a little until the speed evened out.
"You don't look the same as all these other people." Viktor's voice came back, "Black hair, brown eyes...they're all just trying to look like you. But they'll never be able to come close to it." He nosed the raven hair in front of him affectionately, "You're the tastiest pork cutlet bowl there is, and you're mine, whether you're wearing gold, silver, bronze, or nothing at all."
.
Sheremetyevo International Airport was as busy as ever, even for late-evening. Minako looked around the terminal for the self-check-in kiosk, but finding the matching Cyrillic was hard for her untrained eyes.
"What are you looking for?" Yurio asked, standing quietly by her with his leopard-print carry-bag at the end of his reach, a black, studded backpack over his shoulders.
"I can't tell which of the kiosks are the ones I'm supposed to get our tickets from." She answered, eyeballing the Cyrillic in the forwarded email on her phone, and the signs above three different spaces nearby.
"What airline is it?"
"Aeroflot."
He quirked a brow at her, "You're focusing too much on the Russian writing. Aeroflot has a sign in English." He pointed at it, "Right there."
"Oh." She deadpanned it, seeing that it was probably the most obvious thing in the terminal at that point. They walked over quietly and got the tickets printed, checked their bags, and then moved on through International security, until they were finally sitting at the terminal to wait for boarding procedures to start.
Yurio had kept his backpack, and was holding it on his lap, leaning over to rest his chin on it as his arms held around it in a lazy hug. He tried to doze, listening to the music on his phone, but found that he couldn't. He twitched a little to feel a hand go flat against his back, patting twice softly before sliding down a ways and then pulling away again.
"He'll be fine."
Emerald eyes turned towards the older woman, "Who are you trying to convince?"
"Whoever will listen." Minako huffed dryly, "You're not worried at all?"
"They said it was an out-patient procedure. What's to worry about?" He said, pivoting his chin on the top of the backpack as he turned to face forward again, "That he'll fall off another roof somehow? They're only keeping him because he'd be alone if they sent him home while he waits."
"I guess you're right."
She glanced down at the tickets poking out of her small carry-bag.
.
"I swear to God, if you stay in Moscow just because of me, I'll never forgive you." Mikhail glowered at her, "I've already started to forward the email confirmation. Go to China!"
"But-"
"No!" He repeated, "I'll catch up with you later. Take Yuri with you in my stead. There's no sense in wasting two tickets when both of you really want to be there anyway. You have people to cheer on."
"And you don't?" Minako asked pointedly, crossing her arms and looking at the Russian dubiously despite his being in a wheelchair.
"I don't mean that I don't." Mikhail protested, looking quite miserable in his hospital-issue bathrobe and sweatpants, arms crossed as a nurse wheeled him along, "I meant that you aren't crippled, so you don't have any excuse for not being there."
"You're not crippled."
"Temporarily crippled, but crippled all the same."
They came out of the radiology section and were turning through the waiting area to go towards some elevators, and Yurio caught sight. He bounded over to catch up, "So what's the verdict?"
"I'm an old shit and I'm dying." Mikhail said, harshly sarcastic.
The blonde just scoffed at him, turning instead to Minako, "I defer to the more sensible party for answers."
"T10 compression fracture." The woman said, "He needs surgery."
"So you broke your back." Yurio repeated in normal terms, "Way to go."
"I didn't ask for your opinion." Mikhail sulked, "I've fallen off that roof a hundred times and never so much as scraped a knee."
"Maybe we should be getting your head examined instead of your back then." The teen quipped, "Falling off the same roof so many times can't be a good sign."
Minako tried to hold in a laugh, "Remind me...what's the definition of insanity?"
The elder Russian sulked even further, but felt a twinge and had to uncross his arms just to get the pain to stop, "...Doing...the same thing over and over...and expecting a different result...I know... That's not what happened though!"
"Then why do you keep getting up there?" The pair asked at the same time.
Mikhail's eyes were wide as he was taken aback, "Don't even start! I won't be ganged up on!"
Minako shook her head, but then put her hand on the teen's shoulder to pull him aside. The nurse parked the wheelchair and hit the button to go up in the elevator.
Once out of earshot, the older woman slung her whole arm over the blonde's shoulders, but kept her voice low, "Hang out here a little while longer. They're keeping him until Saturday morning. I'm just going to make sure he doesn't try breaking out as soon as we leave."
Yurio just huffed a melodramatic groan, pulled out his phone, and went back to sitting. The spot he'd been in was still warm, "Fine. Don't take forever."
Blue-grey eyes followed him for a moment, but Minako nodded and turned away, heading back to catch up with the nurse just as she was backing Mikhail's wheelchair, and its incredibly grumpy occupant, into the big elevator. She leaned up against the wall as the carriage started to lift upward towards the in-patient suites.
"I could stay in a motel." He tried to barter, "I don't want to stay overnight."
"If you want Yura and I to go to Shanghai then we can't hang out and keep an eye on you." Minako explained, "The hospital will be able to manage your pain better than you can anyway."
"...I could manage..."
"Just like you managed to get yourself out of the car and into the passenger-side seat earlier?" She shot back. It just got her a look of disdain, "Why are you being so cantankerous? You're lucky the fracture is allyou ended up with. It could've been a lot worse."
Arms folded over again, and Mikhail stared at a corner of the floor, "I didn't want the fracture in the first place."
"No one asksfor trouble. It finds us on its own easily enough." The ballerina retorted.
The elevator doors opened again, and the nurse pushed the chair forward, turning to the left to go down another corridor. She checked a list at the nurse's station briefly before signing it and continuing on quietly. The cranky old man was put into the bed he'd be stuck in until the following day, was given brief instructions on how to call for help if he needed it. The nurse then left the room, quietly closing the door to just a crack.
Minako had her arms crossed as she leaned on a wall nearby, watching as the silver Russian reached up with both hands to cover his face, moving them up a little through his hair and then back down again with a disgruntled sigh.
"You'll be up and walking within an hour of the procedure." The ballerina said, trying to cheer him up, "So all you have to do is wait until then."
"They booked it almost at the exact same time that the flight is leaving. It's like the universe is mockingme." Mikhail grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I was really looking forward to this weekend, too."
"Why? What's so different about it?"
He gaped at her in disbelief, and it only made him sulk again, crossing his arms and looking away with a sour look on his face.
"What? Seriously, what's so special about Cup of China?"
Mikhail muttered something under his breath that she couldn't hear.
"Say again?"
"...Yuratchkawasn'tgonnabethere."
"Sorry?"
"Yura wasn't going to be there this time! It was gonna be just us!" He blurted finally, his face going red from the admission. The silver Russian tried to turn onto his side, but regretted it immediately, feeling the wind get knocked out of him again from the twist.
Minako saw the look on his face and went over quickly, pulling him down onto his back by his shoulder. She couldn't help but smile at the fact that, despite the pain, the older man still couldn't stand the embarrassment of looking at her after his admission.
"Aww, were you gonna flirt with me this weekend?" She mused aloud.
"...Maybealittlebit..."
"Only a little?" The teasing continued, much to Mikhail's chagrin. Minako was relentless though, sitting on the edge of the bed and poking at him, "Were you finally going to put on that sweet Rozovsky charm and try to woo me again?"
"Again?" He echoed, cheeks even redder than before somehow, "...Wh-what's that supposed to mean?"
"What, you forgot the night before the Viktuuri wedding party? When we got snowed in at my snack bar?"
"Ohmygodyourememberedthat!?" He hid behind his hands.
"Why would I forget...?"
"You drank a LOT."
"I drink a lot all the time!"
Mikhail would've sunk into himself if he could've, but all he could manage was trying to vanish into the pillows behind his head...though that didn't work out all that well either. He felt a gentle hand on his forearm, and parted his fingers on the left just enough to glance at the woman ahead of him.
"You're like a girl who just got asked to prom for the first time." Minako teased, "It's kind of cute."
"I'm never going to live this down." Tears comically ran down the sides of his face.
"You only live once, and neither of us is getting any younger." She added, "I can tell you want more from this, but I can also tell you're scared as all Hell. What's the big deal? You act like you're starting from square one again every day."
The silver Russian could feel his heart pounding like a jackhammer in his chest. It just made his back hurt all the more. Drawing in a deep breath made it even worse, and he exhaled with a slight grunt of pain, trying to catch his breath again with shallower drags after that. He pulled his hands off his face, anxiously holding them together in front of his chest instead, "I've been burned really badly before."
"I know...you've told me."
"But...I..." He struggled, closing his eyes and trying to be stoic again, "...I also...really like you, too."
"Thank you for finally saying so." She pat his knee where it poked up through the thin blankets.
"I'M A CONFUSED MESS." His hands were up on his head again, ruffling his hair madly and making quite a mess of it, "I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M DOING OR WHAT I WANT."
"Hmm..." Minako mused, "You remind me a lot of Yuri."
"Hah?" He stopped abruptly and gawked at the woman.
"When Viktor first showed up in Hasetsu, Yuri couldn't believe it." The ballerina started, "He was freaking out for days. If you knew what he was like before, how much he looked up to Viktor and aspired to be like him...you'd be as amazed as the rest of us to see how far he's come. Not just as a skater, but as a person. It took a while to get there though. He was worried Viktor was just using him as an excuse to take time off and didn't actually want to be there for his own sake, but...Yuri eventually grew to understand the truth of it all. Viktor actually cared about him." She explained, remembering those days fondly, "But my point is...you can't grow unless, like Yuri, you stop being afraid and just go with it. You'll never know what could happen unless you give it a chance."
.
Two hours had passed by then, and Yurio had drifted to sleep, leaning against the woman such that his face was mashed between her arm and the space behind it. The ballerina looked at her phone, seeing the time, and sighed to realize the plane was already 30 minutes late.
"...Viktor wasn't kidding about Aeroflot making him wait..." She sighed.
Her phone jingled just then, and she pulled it back ahead of her, lifting her right arm to drape it over the unconscious teen more comfortably.
[Well, I'm not dead, so I guess that's pretty neat.]
She huffed a laugh to see the message, and one-thumb typed her reply, [You'll do great, hun. Get some sleep. We'll call you in the morning.]