CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINETY ONE
It was easy to hear the sound of the audience through the walls. Cheering and applause met the end of the most recent Pair skaters' performance, the cacophony of sound reverberating off the stadium walls like waves. Under the stands though, the volume practically made the walls and ground vibrate, pushing into the chests of everyone walking around down there.
Yuri lifted his head as it washed over him; no matter how many times he heard or felt it, it was always a force to get his attention. He'd known it to be even more powerful on occasion though, and he glanced up and to the side, looking at Viktor walking alongside him, slate eyes forward to where they were going. For a split second, the man was just his idol again. The legend, the genius, the best skater of their generation...the untouchable one. Those blue eyes blinked though and turned towards him, the man smiling, and in half a moment, the young skater's cheeks went pink. Without a word, Yuri just smiled back and turned his face ahead again, stepping to walk a bit closer, pressing his shoulder to the silver Russian's arm.
Not really sure what had just happened, Viktor tilted his head a little, watching quietly as Yuri brought his ring-hand up, and felt as the man kissed the gold on his finger. The raven-haired skater held a moment before letting it go back between them again as they walked, all without having said a thing. Not one to leave a kindness unreturned, Viktor leaned in quietly and kissed his partner's cheek, giving that hand a gentle squeeze as they kept moving.
By then, the thunderous roar of the audience had died down again as the performing skaters moved off to the kiss and cry for their scores, the next set lining up in the cue for their turn.
Yakov had pulled ahead of them ages ago by then, catching up with his sole actual athlete and diverging from the path to rink-side to head into the staging area instead. Yurio followed closely behind, with Viktor and Yuri pulling up the rear in their own time. It was only then that Yuri finally decided to pull out their event passes, reaching into his inside-coat-pocket to retrieve them. One lanyard caught around his phone though, pulling it out and sending it bouncing off his chest until it hit the ground with a hard plastic thwap.
Yuri half-had a heart attack as he watched the device plummet, practically in slow motion, until it landed case-side down by his feet with half a bounce. The sound it made reminded him starkly of the day Yurio had yelled at him in St. Petersburg, scaring him into dropping the thing, and it had crashed onto the ice, sending the text message that would change their lives forever. As he reached down to pick it up again, his finger grazed the 'on' button on the side, bringing up the Lock screen, and a text window that had been sitting there for nearly an hour. He clenched his eyes shut for a moment to shake the déjà vu, and then rose back to his full height, looking at the message as Viktor watched.
"Is it okay?" The Russian wondered, "Yuri."
"Yeah, it's fine." He answered, seeing the Japanese [救ってください, 勇利] from his ballet teacher, "I think Minako-sensei needs an out."
"What'd she say?" Viktor asked, turning to see what was written on the screen, though not being able to read it either way.
"'Save me please, Yuri.' But it was almost an hour ago..."
"Let me put my stuff down real fast and we can go."
Hazel eyes blinked at the man, but followed dutifully, "You sure you want to? You could just go straight to the participants' viewing area like we planned."
"Why wouldn't I want to go help save Minako?" The Russian wondered, glancing back over his shoulder.
"...Because of what we'd presumably be saving her from?"
Viktor shrugged, trying not to look as nervous as he was starting to get, "I'll just stand in the hall while you go snag her, or we'll just text her that we're waiting." He offered, "Go ahead and tell her we're coming. She can sit with us."
Looking at the Russian's all-too-obvious team track-suit, and how the red lines of the eagle-crest Coat of Arms popped out from the black it was printed on, Yuri sighed quietly. The nerves that he'd finally pushed back down into submission from outside were starting to bubble up again, and he wondered if the man had entirely forgotten what he'd said the day before already.
'...I don't even want to close my eyes anymore because you'll be out of my sight again, even just to blink. I guess...I'm just not ready to share you with other people again yet.'
Yuri wasn't sure which aspect of his anxiety bothered him more at that point...the idea of leaving Viktor behind to go find Minako on his own, or of bringing him with and being mobbed by the fans who were still trying to find seats. It would be pointless to try and disguise the Russian under a hat again, even if he'd be willing to wear the surgical mask, and he knew that Viktor had already changed into his Short Program ensemble under the track-suit, too. He grit his teeth and resigned to letting the man do as he wanted.
"Yakov, we're going to go rescue Yuri's ballet teacher from my fa-..." Viktor's words cut off, seeing Mila lifting her head to listen, "...Uncle. We're going to go sit in the competitor's box until Opening Ceremonies. I'm going to leave my skates here."
The older man just raised a brow at him, then turned to a particular blonde who was standing silently in the wings, watching everything unfold, "Yuratchka, go with them."
"Eh? Why me?" He wondered back indignantly.
Both older skaters wondered the same thing, but said nothing as Viktor set his carry-bag down and nudged it under a folding chair with one foot.
"Tell Mikhail to come down here."
"...We can tell him that." Viktor pointed out, a little confused.
Yakov just stood fully upright from where he'd been sorting out his own bag, and turned to face the younger figure squarely, "I have this vexing feeling that you won't get anywhere near him."
"He's with them though...?"
"Yuratchka's going to make sure he actually gets here. There's no need for you to get in the middle of it." The elder coach said simply, giving off the stern affect that used to thoroughly intimidate the young Asian skater, "Just go see your friend and ignore the rest."
Yuri lifted his head to look at his partner's face, seeing the neutral expression change to one of slight worry. He still had his phone in his hand, and turned to glance at the face-plate, seeing the text window still there.
I wonder if I could tell her to just meet us somewhere else...?
"And don't just text him." Yakov went on, seeing Yurio about to do that very thing, "Go to him and make sure he doesn't have a chance to bail."
"...Why am I suddenly an errand-boy?" The teen protested, scrunching his shoulders up a little as he stepped closer to the two older skaters.
"Because he's your sponsor and you have nothing else to do. Make yourself useful to the team." The coach said with finality, "Now go already. This meeting is official business, not just some chit chat between old men."
Viktor nervously turned on his heel, but quietly followed the Russian Punk back out of the waiting area and out into the main hall. He looked over to watch his partner attempting to thumb an answer to the ballerina, but it was a slow-going process, mistyping most letters as he tried to look and walk and touch the tiny keyboard at the same time.
Getting frustrated with it, Yuri pulled his hand out of his husband's and looped their elbows instead, freeing his fingers to type the message more efficiently than before while still maintaining his hold on the man. Viktor settled that hand into his pocket after that.
"Where are we even going?" Yurio asked, looking back over his shoulder as they came to the end of the competitors-only area, and pausing to wait for the answer.
"I'm asking." Yuri answered, seeing the three little jumping dots that indicated Minako was answering. His phone buzzed with her reply, and the skater looked up, "She's on the west end of the arena, by the northern stairwell."
"It looks like the inner part of the arena is blocked off after all." Viktor pointed out, looking around, "They must be funneling spectators straight into the seating area so they can't wander all over the place."
"Makes it easy for us to move then." Yuri said, putting his phone away, "Let's get going; Minako-sensei sounds miserable."
Moving out into the larger hall, and leaving the barricaded area behind them, the trio started making their way from the south-eastern end of the building to the western half. As they passed the stairwells that lead steeply up towards the normal access points to the rink, they could see fans standing right up against it and blocking all sight past them. None noticed the small group going by, making it easy to make progress unmolested. By the time they made it to the stairs where the ballerina had said she'd been sitting near, the next Pair skaters had finished their program, and another round of thunderous applause filled the arena with the sound of cheering and clapping. The announcer was calling the score soon after, but the audience and the echo made it hard to make out from under the stands.
The trio paused at the edge of the last corner, barely sticking their heads out to get a look. The woman wasn't there, so Yuri went back to his phone.
[We're at the bottom of the stairs. Where are you?]
[I'm coming. I thought I'd wait.] She answered quickly. Minako clicked out of her phone and slid it into her jacket, leaning over to whisper something into Mikhail's ear before pushing to stand up and move out of sight. The barrier into the lower area wasn't as crowded as some others had been, so it wasn't too difficult to get to it. When she looked down and spotted that mess of black hair and blue-rimmed glasses, she felt a wave of relief wash over her and she quickly lifted one leg over the barricade, to the glares and judgmental stares of a few around, and then the other. She looked back only once as she went down the steep stairs, and then threw her arms over the young skater's shoulders, "Yuri!"
"Sorry it took so long to message you back earlier." He answered, returning the hug eagerly, "I didn't even realize you'd reached out until after we got here."
"I can't imagine spending all afternoon sitting around those two," The ballerina went on, holding onto the skater like she'd get sucked right back into her seat if she let go, "It's bad enough they're speaking in Russian the whole time, but that big Yeti is absolutely insufferable. Why would Mikhail think it makes any sense to bring him here when he clearly doesn't want to be?"
"I have no idea." Yuri said quietly, pulling back at least far enough to be able to see how annoyed she was, "I wasn't there when they decided to ask him."
Viktor slouched against the painted concrete wall, just out of sight, feeling even more guilty than he already did.
Green eyes turned up at him quietly, then glanced back over at the two Japanese figures, "Is Mikhail still up there?"
Minako turned her head to see the teen, "Oh, sorry Yura...I didn't expect to see you there. Is Viktor around somewhere, too?"
The Russian Tiger nodded and thumbed back behind himself as he stepped over towards the stairs, "Trying to be a fly on the wall."
The brunette let her former pupil go, and moved towards the edge of the wall, setting her hand gently against the corner before pulling around to look. Just as had been stated, the Russian was there, but he had his hands in his pockets and his eyes were staring straight at the floor. Minako wasted no time, the wedge-heels of her shoes clicking along the ground as she cautiously moved over to him, setting a hand on his shoulder to get his attention, "...I'm sorry, I would've been more careful with my words if I knew you were right here."
He simply shook his head.
"...Oh Viktor..." She hummed quietly, stepping in closer to give the man the same hug she'd given to Yuri a moment before, "This isn't your fault. I know you agreed to let your father come but it wasn't your idea. You can't make him enjoy something overnight." She rubbed his back with one hand, relieved at least to feel one of the Russian's arms lightly return the gesture, "...Mikhail said...Konstantin's mostly just annoyed about how long it's going to be until the Men's Short Program even starts. I guess Mikhail didn't warn him about how things work before we got here."
"More of my uncle's brilliance at work when it comes to my father." The silver Russian said quietly, "I should've figured there'd be a limit to his apparently vast cache of sagely wisdom."
"Everyone's stupid at a few things." Minako offered, "I just wish Mikhail's 'stupid thing' wasn't this."
"I was stupid for thinking this would turn out any differently." Viktor sighed, lowering his head even more than it already had been, "The man couldn't stand to even see skates before, but now he's supposed to sit for an entire afternoon and half an evening watching skating? What could possibly go wrong?"
"...That." Yurio said suddenly, getting everyone's attention as he pointed up the stairs, "Move it!"
[SHE LEFT. I'M LEAVING.] Konstantin barked, stepping over the metal barricade like it was barely there, descending the steps three at a time until he was on level ground again.
[You can't!] Mikhail pleaded, quickly jumping down after him and giving chase, right past the stunned group, [We'll never get our seats back!]
[I DON'T GIVE A DAMN ABOUT THE SEATS. THEY'RE TINY AND HORRIBLE ANYWAY.]
The two older Russians didn't even seem to notice who they'd just barreled past. Konstantin was making a B-line for where he knew the main exit was located, taking long, quick strides, though making it seem like a normal pace for someone his size.
"What in the Hell?" Yurio asked, watching them go.
In one last desperate bid, Mikhail lunged at the bear, grabbing him around the head and trying to steer him like a bull, losing his flat-cap in the process, [You may not even be able to get back inside once Opening Ceremonies is done! You can't leave now!]
Konstantin stopped, but only so he could try and reach around to grab the monkey on his back, [I'LL COME BACK FOR VIKTOR'S SHOW AND NOT A SECOND SOONER. I'M NOT GOING TO SIT AROUND ALL DAMN DAY WATCHING A BUNCH OF PANSY-ASS, TWINKLE-TOED FAIRIES PRANCING AROUND.]
Viktor's eyes twitched to hear it, but Yurio just scowled hatefully.
[Damnit, Kon, that's your kid you're talking about! You're not even giving it a chance!]
[I CAME, DIDN'T I!?] The bear argued, still reaching, giving the onlookers a brief scare, as it seemed like he was just about ready to ram his back against the wall to squash Mikhail enough to make him let go, only to keep turning after all, [I SAID I'D WATCH VIKTOR, NOT EVERY GODDAMN SKATER IN THE WHOLE GODDAMN COUNTRY.]
Yuri and Minako exchanged glances, turning to the Russians for clarity, "What are they saying?"
"Nothing of value." The teen said simply.
Konstantin finally managed to get his giant murder-mitts around the skinny figure clinging to his neck and shoulders, yanking him off like he was barely a child, and set him down on the floor roughly, [I'll be back, BUT NOT ONE SECOND SOONER THAN I HAVE TO BE.] He yelled again, turning on his heel to finally leave.
The silver elder watched him go, stunned, feeling entirely defeated, but feeling one last word bubbling up in him, [WHAT WOULD TAT SAY IF SHE SAW YOU LEAVING LIKE THIS?]
[SHE'S DEAD. YOU DON'T GET TO USE HER AGAINST ME ANYMORE.] The bear said with finality, disappearing around the curve of the rounded stadium's walls, heading for the exit.
Three sets of astonished eyes stared ahead, unblinking, until the sound of fabric rustling against a hard surface caught their attention and they turned back. Viktor had slid down against the wall until he was sitting on the floor, elbow on his knees, forearms crossing over his head protectively where he bowed it low to hide his face.
"Viktor!" Yuri cried out, going to his knees beside the man, setting his hands gently on the Russian's shoulders, "Forget him, we won't even let him come back...! This isn't worth it!"
Minako was down on the silver skater's other side, one hand gently on Viktor's forearm, "I agree, this is too much..."
Grey-green eyes finally turned back, only just then realizing the group was even there. Mikhail was immediately horrified, but that quickly faded to guilt and disappointment. He stepped the few paces back to where his hat was lying on the floor and picked it up, dusting it off before setting it back on his head and cautiously walking forward. He barely made it halfway before he saw Yurio starting to come towards him instead.
"That's far enough." The teen said firmly, "You're coming with me."
"But Vivi-"
"He's not someone you have the privilege of getting to worry about right now." Yurio said, gritting his teeth, his kicking-leg twitching.
"...Minako?" The elder Russian wondered instead, looking past the blonde, but only seeing the woman shaking her head at him like it wasn't the best time to argue. He sighed and furrowed his brow, wondering how much deeper he'd just dug his own grave. Reluctantly, he bowed his head and turned to go with the teen, pausing only long enough to set his fist on the wall briefly so he didn't punch it instead.
After a few moments of tense silence, interrupted only by the music of the show and the maelstrom of cheering that followed, Viktor finally unraveled from the ball he'd made of himself. He crossed his legs and lowered his hands against them, head still bowed so his bangs shielded his eyes.
"...Viktor...?" Yuri said again, quieter than before.
"...Why do I never know how to feel about things...?" The Russian asked, his voice strained as he stubbornly refused to let himself shed tears over what had just happened, "...I don't know if I'm more angry that he left...or that I stupidly hoped that he'd stay..."