CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SEVENTY TWO
As quickly as the winter sun set behind the horizon, it felt like a lot more time had passed than really had. By the time the last sliver of light faded away, and the stars could be seen as clearly as though they were painted on a canvas, the Russian countryside was as dark as ebony. There were a few meager lights on in the small hamlet down the road, but they were too far away to illuminate the graveyard. Even the small lights from inside the house nearby weren't good for much.
A dog barked somewhere far away, then a second joined in. Otherwise, the night was quiet.
Viktor was still sitting on the marble bench, elbow on his knees, forehead on the back of his wrists, cradled where his fingers were laced together. In the dark, he'd completely lost track of time. He'd said everything he could think to say, and had managed to become thoroughly disgusted at his younger self in the process.
All those years, I blamed her for falling out of touch...when it was really my fault. I wonder if Yakov stopped telling me when she called...? How many times did she try, only to get told I wouldn't answer...?
"Viktoooor!" He heard Mikhail calling, unable to see him in the dark but knowing where he was. The older man's outline was obvious enough against the light on the front of the house, but the flashlight on the front of his phone only illuminated the area immediately around him.
The younger Russian lifted his head a little to the sound, seeing the dark shape with the bright light in front of it nearly 100 yards away, then hearing his name called a second time. For lack of knowing what else to say, he drew in a breath and rose to stand up again, stuffing his cold hands into his coat pockets, and looking in the direction he knew the statue stood.
I burned everything she'd saved for me, even the letter... I never even finished reading it. That would've broken her heart, I'm sure of it... I really am horrible.
Mikhail squinted as he looked into the dark beyond the wooden house, and was relieved when he finally saw the camera-phone flashlight turning on a ways beyond the hill. He waited quietly and patiently as it got closer, until his own flashlight app was strong enough to cast a pale glow onto the figure approaching.
"Did you get what you needed?"
Viktor paused long enough to turn the app off and put his phone back into his pocket, shielding his now-ungloved hands from the cold, and shrugged, "Don't know. I actually feel a bit worse now that I've basically confessed to all the horrible things I did after I left."
"We all go through phases like that when we're young and stupid. We can only hope to learn from it early enough that we don't end up old and stupid, too." Mikhail answered, "Come around the other side of the house. Kon's digging out the fire pit."
Nervously, Viktor nodded and followed, stepping the path through the snow where feet had pushed the white fluff down already. Once behind the house, the young Russian paused, looking out towards the woods, and seeing the faint glow of moonlight on the pond in the caldera-like depression at the bottom of the hill.
The sound of a crack, and the faint but steadily growing light of a fire, caught his attention and forced him to look back again. With the fire rising, Viktor could see where his behemoth of a father was using a wide shovel to dig a wide edge around it, scooping it up into three big piles all around the center, packing it down after every few scoops. When Viktor finally realized that his uncle had vanished, the man was already returning, carrying what looked like tarps and horse blankets over his arms.
"Here, do something useful." The older figure said, holding out one of each until Viktor took them, not sure what to do, "It's for snow-chairs. Put the tarp down first, then the blanket, then sit."
"Oh."
"It's like sitting in a big bean-bag. You'll get it." Mikhail said, moving off to do the same with the remaining two sets.
Viktor watched in silence as his uncle did as he'd explained, and then promptly flopped back into the covered snow-pile, making a custom seat for himself by fire-side. Blue eyes looked down at the items folded over his arms, and cautiously stepped closer to mimic what he'd seen, setting the tarp down over the pile, then the horse blanket, and then turning around to try sitting. It felt really awkward.
"Just fall back into it. The snow will conform to your shape." Mikhail said, trying to encourage him.
"What if there's a rock under it?"
"There's no rocks up here. None big enough to bother you, anyway."
"Ja ne govorju po-anglijski." Konstantin grumbled, setting the big shovel into the snow against the back of the small 'barn,' and then dropping into the pile that had been made ready for him. The tarp crinkled as it moved under his weight, and then one more time as the big man crossed one ankle over the opposite knee to settle in.
"Izvinite." Mikhail answered back, [Force of habit.]
Viktor just looked around nervously, being the only idiot still standing.
[Oh jeeze, just pull me up and take my spot if you're that worried.] The Rozovsky elder muttered, holding his hand out and flopping it around dramatically for emphasis. The younger man did as instructed and yanked his uncle up, then cautiously took his place in the pile that had already been tried and tested, turning his eyes to watch the man drop into the untested snow-mound like it was no big deal. He landed without issue, and retook his previous pose, crossing his legs out in front of him to warm his feet by the flame-pit, [See? Nothing to worry about.]
[For a guy who just had surgery for a broken back, you sure are careless.] Viktor said meekly, [Maybe that's why you fell off a roof in the first place.]
[I broke one bone.]
[In your back. That'd be the end of my career if it happened to me.] Viktor pointed out, only to then go quiet and look away as he realized he'd mentioned that thing. He cleared his throat nervously and said nothing more.
[Oh bah, there's plenty of people who've had worse injuries and got back into the game after recovering.] Mikhail went on, heedless of his nephew's discomfort, [After seeing you in action, I'm surprised you haven't already gotten hurt. Your back must bother you sometimes at least.]
"...Mh..."
[Knees then?]
"...Mhhh..."
[That move you do at the start of your Free Skate.] The older figure still hadn't gotten the hint, [Where you stomp your one foot down really hard. I was sure you'd break your ankle with it.]
Viktor just looked at his knees, and at the fire just beyond them, not wanting to speak of it.
[I'm glad you've at least decided against asking Yuri to get you all riled up before you go out there. His poor little heart couldn't take it.] Mikhail went on.
[Can we talk about literally anything else?] Viktor finally said, keeping his eyes down as he spoke, and bringing his legs back to cross them under himself, [Seriously.] He pulled his phone out to look at something that was familiar, idly checking the World Clock app to see that it was just past midnight in Japan by that point. Without internet access to check Instagram with, the perturbed skater started scrolling through his photo albums instead, trying to calm is pounding heart with better memories.
Mikhail watched him, but then huffed and shrugged, turning to the man-bear who'd been silent to that point, [Anything you want to say?]
[No.]
[You're both so boring!] The man lamented, kicking both feet up dramatically.
Slate eyes scanned left, and Konstantin looked on his bristling son, seeing the phone case past his hand and being surprised at himself for recognizing what it was...sort of, [...Isn't that one of your skating outfits or something?]
"Huh?" Viktor looked up nervously, turning his phone around and realizing he still had the Duetto mash-up case on display, [...Ah, yeah. Kind of.]
[Kind of? Either it is or it isn't.]
The young Russian just sank a little.
[Relax. That's just how he talks.] Mikhail said, trying to be reassuring, [He doesn't like it when people are vague. Be literal or say nothing at all.]
[It's...] Viktor started again, his heart going a thousand miles an hour again, [...It's not just mine. It's Yuri's, too.] He tried to explain, moving his fingers to the bottom of the case and then pointing at each half with the other hand, [The wine-side is mine, the blue is his.]
Those telltale eyes looked at the phone-case as the explanation was given, but then couldn't help but move to where the golden band on Viktor's finger glinted in the fire-light. The huge man drew in a sharp breath and then turned his head away.
Viktor just glowered, tilting his hand where he realized what had made the older man recoil, and then settled back into the snow-seat with a grumble, [I wish you weren't so judgmental. If you knew the relationships I'd had before, maybe you wouldn't care so much what I'm doing now.]
[Were they all men?]
[No, actually.] The younger silver figure said stiffly.
Mikhail glanced back and forth between the two as each said their piece, not sure whether it was worth it to interrupt or if he should just quietly let it play itself out.
[And it's not exactly like I dated those women and then decided one day that I was done with them, and that I'd only be interested in guys after that.] Viktor went on defensively, [I didn't choose it.]
[You know it's wrong.]
[IT'S NOT WRONG.]
[Yeesh, that went to 11 in a hurry.] Mikhail said quietly, mostly commenting to himself.
[How can it possibly be wrong to love someone!?] The young Russian continued, looking like he was about ready to jump back to his feet at any moment, sitting forward in the snow-chair, [You know how hard it is to trust, in my position? How hard it is to tell apart the people who only care about my skating fame from the ones who actually give a damn about me as a person? Do you even know how long it took for me to trust Mikhail again after everything that happened, when he popped up in St. Petersburg after the funeral?] Viktor pointed at the man for emphasis.
[Ohhhhh shit, he actually said my name.] The older silver said, shocked.
[And the only reason I'm even here right now is because of Yuri!] The skater barked, [If it was just me back then, I'm not even sure I would've told Yakov to go ahead and arrange for us to meet. But in spite of all the horrible things that've happened to me, specifically because of you, at least I got Uncle Mimi back, and finally covered over one of the gaping, bloody holes in my soul...one that was put there, I've since learned, because you and the people in this god-forsaken town drove him away in the first place.]
The bear's cold eyes just stared, unblinking.
Viktor grit his teeth, and then fell back against the horse blanket, [I don't even know why I bother letting myself get riled up about this. You'll never be rational about it. The fact that Yuri makes me happy is entirely irrelevant to you.]
The fire crackled between them, sparks flying up into the night. Viktor just went back to the photos on his phone, scrolling through them without really looking at them.
[Why are you even here then?]
Viktor just glared over the top of his phone, then looked back down again, [It wasn't for your illustrious company, I can assure you. I came to apologize to my mother for putting her though literal Hell; for being good at the one thing you hated most in this world, and for leaving her alone with you after the fact.]
[You make it sound like you think she hated me.]
[I wouldn't be shocked if she did!] Viktor snapped, pulling his knees up after that to make a proverbial wall between them, [I don't even know why she married you, never mind being close enough to create me somehow.]
The huge man narrowed his eyes, going silent for a moment and looking up past the fire. A quick glance over at Mikhail, and Konstantin sighed quietly, [Things were different before.]
[They were always the same to me.] Viktor grumbled, keeping the phone up.
[Tell him.]
"Hah...?" Mikhail answered, a bit surprised at being dragged into it suddenly, [Tell him what...?]
[Tell him how things were before. He won't listen to a word I say, or believe me even if he does.]
Grey-green eyes quirked a little, [...How far back do I have to go?]
[All the way. Tell him everything.]
[But-]
[ALL OF IT, ROZOVKSY.]
Mikhail just quietly growled a little, crossing his arms over his chest, [What difference will it make if he knows any of it? His experience is entirely separate from ours, growing up here. We grew up in the USSR, him in the Russian Federation.]
[I'm not talking about the politics of the time, idiot.] Konstantin said stiffly, [I'm talking about us. You, me, and Tatiyana.]
Viktor side-eyed his uncle from his side of the fire, quietly wondering why the man was so reluctant to speak.
[Asking me to explain it all makes it sound like you're asking me to take the blame for how things turned out, and that's not fair.] Mikhail protested finally.
[You are half the reason things turned out the way they did.] The bear pointed out, [After all the things you did, you're lucky you didn't end up in the pond.]
[Oh come on, you can't expect me to take responsibility for the tension between you and Tat. I was horrible as a kid, sure, but I can't make you do anything.]
['Horrible?'] Konstantin echoed, as though the idea were absurd, even scoffing a little, [You were an unholy little monster. The entire town suffered because of you. Would you have still been such a nightmare if our families hadn't arranged for Tatiyana and I to be married? You were so petty, jealous, and vindictive over the whole thing that it's amazing you weren't chased out of town with torches and pitchforks. Viktor being born is probably the only thing that stopped you. Those few years short years after that, before you left, were the only years of peace Tatiyana and I ever had.]
The skater lifted his head cautiously, [What's he talking about?]
[He thinks I tried to break up the marriage when all I was doing was having a bit of fun.] Mikhail said defensively, keeping his eyes on the bear to his side, [It's not my fault Kon reacted the way he did.]
[Your definition of 'fun' is pretty fucked up then, Mik.] The gruff older Russian said bitterly, [Only a psychopath would think what you did was anything less than vicious and sadistic.]
[What is he talking about?] Viktor asked again, more firmly this time, [Tell me.]
[What good would it do to tell you about the delinquent I used to be? It's all in the past. I'm a completely different person now.] Mikhail answered his nephew stiffly, rocking forward to thrust himself back up to his feet, then turned back to Konstantin, [Viktor's only just starting to forgive me for leaving in the first place. Don-]
[After all this time, telling me I needed to tell Yuri everything about my past, don't you think it's a little hypocritical that you refuse to tell me about yours?] Viktor wondered, lowering his phone and knees a little.
[Sure it's hypocritical...but there's a saying about doing what I say, and not what I do. You should consider it sometime.] The older silver man said angrily, turning his back to the fire and stepping slightly out of its glow, the toes of his shoes touching the edge of where Konstantin had stopped shoveling snow away.
[Maybe you're right.] Viktor answered, turning his back to the man, sitting sideways on the horse blanket, [Maybe I've only just begun to forgive you for leaving. But your stubborn refusal to tell me what happened is starting to make me wonder if even that was premature. If you're not the same person you used to be, then admitting what you did before shouldn't be a problem, right?]
[It's not that simple.]
[Nothing ever is. We keep moving on anyway. You're acting like you think I'll hold a grudge against you for stuff that happened before I even existed.]
[Sure, because the things I did left an impact that carried on well into the future...so much so that I was surprised I was even told Tat had died.]
[Viktor wasn't the only one who had a care package set aside in case something happened to her.] Konstantin said grimly, [If she hadn't left instructions to contact the both of you, I never would have...but she never forgot. She was stubborn and willful that way. No matter how much I pleaded with her to let you both go, she never would. No matter how much it hurt her that you were both gone, she kept hoping you'd both come back one day anyway.]
[Oh, and you had no personal hand in making her miserable?] Viktor argued, [I remembered all the times you got furious over catching me skating, yelling at her over it. I remember hearing you screaming in the background when she was on the phone with me after I left.]
The bear's slate-blue eyes narrowed again, and he growled a bit as he exhaled, [I had a short fuse over a few things.] He paused for a moment, watching as his son glared at him over his shoulder, [It's a shame you were too young to remember how things were before the skating. After you got on the ice, it's all you ever lived for, and I know that now, looking back on all the years you two were sneaking out so you could skate. Can you really blame me for being mad when I found out my own family had been lying to me for so long?]
[We only lied because you were so unreasonable about it.] Viktor said, turning back around again to face the back of the house, [We both thought it was stupid.]
[It was. I recognize that. But this is now...and that was 20 years ago. I can't undo what happened back then, and I can't change the fact that your precious Uncle Mimi made me hate it so much...but that's how it was back then.] Kon went on, quieter than before, [If I could go back and change one thing, that would be it. Maybe if I hadn't been so angry about it, you'd never have felt the need to skate in town, and Yakov never would've found you and taken you away.]
[Then maybe I should be grateful that Mikhail made you hate it.] Viktor shot back bitterly, hugging his knees in front of himself, [After all, I would've ended up at that god-awful steel mill if I hadn't escaped this horrible place. I would never have met Yuri, either, and the thought of being without him is almost entirely unbearable to me. If not for him, I'd have probably thrown myself into some icy river somewhere by now.]
[You can't possibly mean that.]
[I do.] The skater said, clenching his eyes shut indignantly, then turning slightly, setting his hand down as he twisted to stare at his father, [I'm nearly 30 now. My skating career is going to be over soon. My whole life has been about skating. I had no idea what I was going to do once I couldn't compete anymore; I didn't even want to think about it because it was too depressing. If Yuri hadn't skated my program when he had, and if I hadn't gone to be his coach afterward, I not only would be retired from the one thing I ever did that I was proud of, but I'd be miserable and alone, too.] He held his right hand up after that, the gold glinting on his finger again, [He's been my life-line in more ways than I can count. Being the reason I can stay in skating somehow, keeping my head above water as I deal with everything that came up with this place... I wouldn't be able to do any of this on my own. He means everything to me because of it. I'm not going to apologize for being married to him, and I'm not going to let you make me feel bad about it. I love him. You can either learn to accept that, or you can shut up about it.] He twisted back away to face the house again, his hand going just above his head, [Cuz I've had it up to here with this. You don't even want to know who I am, what kind of person I've become, what I've done with my life... You think you can read a newspaper article about my events now and then, and think you know enough. And despite all that, you think you have the right to judge me because you knew all along that skating would make me like this. No, I made me like this.]
Both men listened anxiously, though for entirely different reasons.
[And maybe, just maybe, if you could stop being such a bigoted ass about the whole thing for five minutes, you'd actually get to see what I'm like normally...] Viktor ranted on, [...I hate being like this...feeling angry and anxious all the time... I came back to put my ghosts to bed. I did that as well as I could. Now I just want to get back to Japan so I can be with my husband again. ...I hate it here...]