CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FOURTY NINE
It was a mercy to enter into the second half of the program...it meant there were only a few seconds left before sweet release...and a quick retreat. Yuri felt exhaustion kicking in hard already, his legs and chest burning.
I can hardly breathe...! He thought in anguish, sweat beading on his skin.
I won't give up, no I won't give in, 'til I reach the end and then I'll start again
No, I won't leave, I wanna try everything, I wanna try even though I could fail
Thoughts of trying to figure out a way to reinsert the flying jump somewhere else into the program were flying through his head, but the growing power of his panic attack was making it harder and harder to focus. Plans that were once easy to think of were becoming like the jumbled up pieces of a massive jigsaw puzzle, but with the added fun of being thrown around from all sides like in a wind-tunnel. As soon as he thought he had one, another would hit him and knock the idea out of his head, and then 18 more would jump at him all at once in a confusing mess.
All he could do was let himself go into autopilot and hope that his body knew what to do, even if it meant going back on the muscle-memory he had from before Calgary.
He felt himself moving backwards down the length of the rink, spreading his arms out to the side as his left leg went behind him. As he slid in reverse, he dipped forward, reaching his hands for the right skate, the left rising straight up above him. It all felt familiar enough to make sense for a brief moment...but maybe that was a lie. He righted himself, switched feet, heard his name being yelled from somewhere far away, and jumped.
The wall came at him quickly, and his hip hit it hard, sliding into it with only a foot of clearance and forcing him to bowl over a little as the wind got knocked out of him. He could hear the audience crying out in stunned, confused horror, and at least in that moment, he felt like his mind and body were thousands of miles apart from each other. It was like watching the show from somewhere in the rafters. He no longer felt like part of himself, and he couldn't feel his hip hurting.
This has to be a nightmare.
It was weird to watch from above himself, seeing how his body clung to the wall in slow motion as he tried to push himself back to standing normally, desperate to get back to the ice.
That bruise is going to be huge by tomorrow.
Everything felt like it was taking place under water. The crowd was little more than kelp, arms waving about like long green leaves in the riptide, their screams like the waves passing overhead, beating against the shore. The music itself was so muted that, behind the ringing in his ears, he could barely tell what the lyrics were anymore.
I'll keep on making those new mistakes, I'll keep on making them every day,
Viktor had his elbows on the rink wall, hands up over his face, almost opposite the arena from where Yuri landed. He watched through his fingers where the skater had finally managed to put his blades down again and started skating off to pick up where the music left him. Viktor wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry; his partner knew he was going to mess up, but this was well and beyond either of their expectations.
There isn't much of a chance for recovery at this point. The Russian thought, dismayed, The song alone is almost an insult to him in itself, given how bad he felt going into it. I wonder if he'll still be able to get on the podium at all...? It was too much for the ISU press to push him like this. He's not a different person just because he changed coaches; getting married didn't cure his anxiety either.
Yuri spun from the outside spread-Eagle, pausing to do a half-assed shoulder-waggle before continuing on.
Those new mistakes
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, try everything
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, try everything
He slid down to the center of the arena, pulling his hands up against his sides as he went.
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, try everything
The blades whipped around, spinning his whole frame several times before throwing himself into a tri-vaulted butterfly jump. It felt like, even in quick sequence, the semi-single jump was all he had the energy left to do.
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
As he spun around again in the landing, twisting across the ice on one skate, he raised his arms up to about horizontal and twisted to a stop to enter the final pose. He raised his left hand up to touch his shoulder, but couldn't bring himself to look past it to find his coach on the rink wall. In part...he was terrified of what Viktor was going to say, and in part because he'd lost his bearings ages ago, and had no idea where his husband was anyway.
Try everything.
As the music faded away, the audience wasn't sure what to do. A few people clapped slowly, hesitantly, and a few others tossed their plush nigiri out onto the ice, but most were just so stunned by the performance that they weren't sure clapping was even appropriate. They could see how Yuri let his arms slump and held his head low. The humiliation was worse than his Barcelona Short Program. In fact, it was even worse than Sochi before it.
Yurio was appalled by the audience, looking around at them with a disgusted look on his face. When he finally turned far enough around to see Minako, he could tell she was just as disappointed and frustrated as he himself was.
"CHEER FOR HIM, GODDAMNIT." Mikhail yelled at his television.
Yuri had already fallen to his knees by that point, deaf to the silence anyway, only really able to hear the sound of blood rushing through his throbbing head. He reached up to cross his hands over his chest and gripped tightly down on his shoulders, and dipped forward until he could feel his forehead on the ice, his whole body trembling.
"KATSUDOOONNNNN! MOLODYEEEEETS!*" Yurio's voice pierced the air, "MOLODYEEEEETS!" He screamed again, this time while standing on his seat, both hands up around his mouth to amplify the sound.
And with that, the stadium finally filled with the cheers that should've been there from the start. More plush food and a few plush poodles flew to the ice, along with flowers and other gifts. The skater was little more than a shaking heap though, and he wouldn't move. It was taking everything he had not to cry right there in the open for everyone to see.
Viktor felt his heart pounding in his chest, but it was at least a small relief to hear the audience finally cheering. Seeing his husband unwilling to get up though was disheartening. He looked around to the ushers around rink-side and saw one of them give the OK for him to go out and collect his athlete, and the Russian slowly scuffled his dress-shoes across the ice to get over to him. A few seconds later, he crouched onto one knee and set his hand gently on Yuri's back.
The younger man just twitched to feel it though, and moved his hands from his shoulders to his face, sitting up only enough to hunch over his knees. He was sure Viktor was going to say something, and couldn't bear to look at him, but instead found that the Russian remained quiet. Yuri felt the cool touch of plastic being slipped over his neck, settling there, and two nubs being put into his ears.
'Power on... ...Connected.'
Light boom...echo...the sound of water dripping '...Are you...afraid of the dark?'
Viktor pat his back again and let the sound of the music take hold over the audience, then helped his skater get back to the rink exit. It was subtle, but the Russian turned his head when he heard the haggard breaths, and watched the tears starting to roll down his husband's face. He gave Yuri's shoulder a squeeze, noting how the younger man still wouldn't look at him.
The score came up rather quickly after they sat in the kiss and cry. Yuri kept his head down, elbows on his knees, staring at his skates. Viktor could hear the music pounding from the ear-buds, knowing full and well that the skater wouldn't be able to hear as the number was called, nor the cue to look up, so he listened on Yuri's behalf.
Maybe it's for the best that he doesn't know what he got yet. I'll tell him later, once he's had a chance to calm down.
"Next to take the ice, representing the United States...Leo de la Iglesia!"
Facing the reporters was harrowing, but Yuri just let his coach do all the talking. He wasn't even sure what they were saying specifically, though he had a good idea of at least the topic. The music was too loud for him to hear...and he wanted it that way.
I don't want to think right now...
As the songs changed over, there were a few seconds where he could hear the exchanges.
"...Yuri's got a really strong Free Program, so I'm certain he'll make a big come-back and still take the event." Viktor was saying, "The Short Program is the Achilles' Heel to a lot of skaters, and Yuri's no exception."
"How does it make you feel as a coach that Yuri scored so low after such a strong start at Skate Canada?" One of the reporters asked.
Yuri blinked, his brow furrowing, and he turned his head to look at the floor disappointedly. Viktor saw it out the corner of his eye, and reached back to take hold of his hand reassuringly.
At least this guy had the sense not to state the number, the Russian thought. He turned back to the media, "I'm disappointed, of course; any coach would be-"
The words were drowned out again by the next song; the Worlds EX Gala Opening Ceremony. The memory of how much fun Yuri had at that event was in stark contrast to everything else at that moment. He wanted to be there again, to win again, but he just felt frozen in place.
"Come on, Yuri, let's find somewhere to sit." Viktor's voice came back, muffled by the music and barely discernible, but the skater nodded and let his husband guide him off.
Leo's program had ended, and the sound of Seung-gil's music starting was barely audible as they passed the hall that lead to the rink-side entryway. Yuri wasn't sure what it was.
He looked up only long enough to see Otabek there by the curtain, who in turn was looking back at him. Oddly, the 19-year-old gave him a nod, which Yuri took as the man's subtle way of showing solidarity with him, so he nodded back in thanks and kept on walking.
Yurio says they're friends because Otabek saw that he had a soldier's eyes. Tsh... I wonder what he sees in mine? A coward...? A naïve idiot who had the gall to think he could compete evenly with our generation's best skater...?
They passed Michele and Sala quietly. Yuri didn't notice the sad look on the woman's face, nor the passive-aggressive 'what happened?' look on her brother's.
Viktor felt a buzz in his coat pocket, realizing it was his partner's phone that was ringing, and withdrew it to see who it was. Yuri was looking aside by then, since he heard the jingle in his ear-buds as the music got cut off by the incoming call. The Russian held the screen for him to see; it was Phichit.
The young skater lifted his left hand to click the 'answer' button on the front of the collar, "Sa was dee krab, Phichit-kun."
"Hey...I was watching the LiveStream just now...are you okay?" The Thai skater answered, a worried tone in his voice, "What happened? You wouldn't even talk during that interview after."
"...I don't know." Yuri answered, his voice still a bit raw from trying for so long to not cry.
The Russian finally pulled him around to a quiet hallway with a few plastic seats along the wall, and gently guided his partner to sitting, then took the place next to him.
"All this talk about Viktor and I both getting gold going into the Final really got to me, I guess...and it really hit me at the last second how disappointed everyone would be if I couldn't pull it off." Yuri explained, lowering his head again as he clasped his fingers together ahead of his knees, "It's like...I took the Nikiforov name and now I'm supposed to consistently perform like one."
Slate eyes turned, but the Russian said nothing.
"How am I supposed to do that? I'm still just Yuri Katsuki at the end of the day." He reached up to rub his nose, feeling a few stray tears rolling down to the tip of it.
"You're your own worst enemy in that respect, Yuri."
"I know..."
"Hasn't Viktor taught you yet how to perform under pressure...?" Phichit wondered.
"It's not like I haven't gotten better." The skater sighed, leaning back up again to slouch in the chair, crossing his arms in front of himself, using his partner's arm as something of a neck-pillow where it was resting behind his head, "He can't stop me from having a panic attack anymore than I can."
"That panic attack didn't need to happen." Viktor pointed out.
"Huh?" Yuri finally turned his eyes to look at the man, "Viktor...I can't control it..."
"Oh, sorry." Phichit said nervously, "I should've guessed he'd be right there."
"Ten seconds before you stepped onto the ice, you were fine. You were confidant and ready to score over 100 just like how I told you to. Why did you suddenly get so freaked out? You normally panic well ahead of time, if you're going to at all." Viktor went on, pulling his partner's head closer to rest on the front of his shoulder, "What changed? Did something set you off?"
"...I don't know... It's like a switch got flipped in my head." The younger figure answered nervously, feeling the ear-bud on the left slip out where his cheek was pressed against Viktor's coat, "I felt great when I got here...a bit nervous, but nothing too much more than usual..."
"...Was it because of Yurio?"
"...Yurio?" He turned his head up, confused, "Why would he-"
"Or was it me?"
"Eh?"
"I don't know what you guys are talking about." Phichit said awkwardly.
Yuri flinched, but then reached up for the loose ear-bud hanging in front of his chest. About to put it back, he paused...and then reached to put it into Viktor's ear instead, "Sorry, Phichit-kun...I've put Viktor on the line. He can hear you now."
"You pointed at the audience like you realized Uncle Mimi wasn't out there. I'm guessing you put two and two together, and figured out that the reason we were acting weird was because we were trying to keep it from you." Viktor went on, adjusting how the nub sat in his ear before letting his arm fall back behind Yuri's neck, "I didn't want you to worry about it unnecessarily before you went out there, but..."
"Maybe...I don't know..." Yuri sighed, slouching a little, "I mean, it didn't help anything that I saw Yurio was in his seat...but before that..."
"Yeah, Viktor's come-back was as smooth as a bear's arse." The teen's voice suddenly resounded, forcing the pair to crane their heads a little to see him leaning against the corner of the hall, "If someone were recording the look on your face, I could point to the frame where you started to look nervous." He kicked off to stand normally, pointing at him directly, "If you weren't consciously thinking about trouble before that moment, you sure were afterwards. Your worry about what was really going on probably pulled on your latent worry about whether you could win gold this weekend."
"I did try to make sure you two didn't run into each other before he skated." Viktor pointed out, giving the teen a look, "But Yuri seemed happy to see you, so I didn't shuffle you out right away like I probably should have." A finger went up to waggle at the blonde, "And again, without a badge, you shouldn't be down here."
"ISU staff let me through." Yurio retorted, putting his hand back in his pocket, "Otabek's about to skate, so I came to wish him good luck. If you two are done throwing a pity party though, come watch him with me. Maybe you'll get inspired so you can skate again tomorrow like you normally do. You can still turn this thing around."
The older Russian looked at his partner and shrugged, "It won't hurt. Might give you some sense of normalcy to be in the audience like we usually do while waiting." He reached into his coat and withdrew Yuri's blue-framed glasses, giving them over so he could see normally again.
Yuri nodded, put his frames on and drew in a deep, but still strained breath, before turning his attention back to the call at hand, "Phichit-kun...we're going to go sit in the stands and watch the rest of the Short Program."
"Okay. Rau kui gan thi lang. Feel better, Yuri."
"I do a little already. Thanks for calling."
Beep. 'Call ended.'
Brown eyes went between the two Russians, "So what happened to Mikhail then? Why isn't he here? If you went so far to try and keep it a secret from me, it must be serious..."
Viktor was a bit reluctant to answer, "I only know the basics..."
"The idiot fell off a roof and broke his back." Yurio answered in his stead, standing side-face to get the pair to follow him more quickly, and watched them push to stand, "He waited a whole day to let anyone do something about it. Made us take him all the way back to Moscow like everything was fine before he admitted he had to go see a doctor. I was just texting him with Okukawa before you started your show."
"...Is he okay then...? If he's texting you guys..." Yuri asked anxiously, clipping both ear-buds to the magnetic docks on the front of the collar. He felt Viktor's fingers slide through his own after that, and they followed the blonde towards the curtain to rink-side.
"They injected cement, late last night, into the bone he crushed." Yurio explained, walking quickly, "This late in the day, he's probably home already. In that case, he's fine." He turned his head to the side to glance back at his Asian rival over his shoulder, "We just didn't know that until you were getting on the ice."
"I didn't want you to go out there worrying about whether he was ever going to walk again." Viktor went on, "You already had enough on your plate. Minako-sensei says he plans on being at NHK still."
The relief of knowing 'the big secret' was a weight off the young skater's shoulders. He heaved a still-pained sigh, but leaned in a little to walk a bit closer to his partner, "So then what was he doing on a roof in the first place...? Didn't he say he was going back to your hometown?"
"Yes, but I have no idea about the rest." The Russian answered with a slight shrug, then turning his eyes to glance at the back of Yurio's head, "Do you know?"
The teen glanced back, pulling the curtain away with one hand, "He never actually said."
.
.
.
Molodyets = Good job.
Sa was dee krab = Hi.
Rau kui gan thi lang = Talk to you later.