CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED THREE
The fender-bender that had delayed Phichit's arrival for Single's had been cleared away long ago, but the damage left behind was still as obvious as ever. After all, the fender of one car had put a bender around a light-post erected on the median. Footprints on the sidewalk marked where the trio had passed the site by, on their way to the meeting point.
Once there though, waiting for their ride to arrive took almost as long as the previous 29 years of his existence, Viktor thought, sitting on a frosted-over barricade where the Makomanai park pathway reconnected with the main road. Every set of headlights on the other side of the road threatened to be his Uncle, and even though he presumed to be the one in control of their interactions, the idea of seeing the man still made the young Russian's hackles stand on end.
[Make no mistake...I had everything I wanted before.] Viktor remembered, thinking back on that moment from Worlds, [This is all extra...if it causes me grief, I'll put a stop to it.]
[You make it sound like I'm some secret agent working for your father, reporting back everything I see or hear.] Mikhail deadpanned him, [I haven't even talked to him since he showed me where your home rink was.]
[You're the one who keeps asking if I want Konstantin to approve of my profession and offering ideas and insight into how to make it happen. But the bottom line is...I don't want him anywhere near me. I don't want to know if or when you talk to him. It'll take me a long time to trust you just on your own. Just keep that in mind...we're walking on thin ice for a little while, you and I.]
Yuri checked the time on his phone briefly, standing closer to the edge of the road and looking at the passing cars, but then pocketed the device and started walking back again. Minako watched him, but shrugged, having no more information about the elder Russian's ETA than he himself did. The young skater nodded and moved off, shuffling up behind his husband and slouching heavily across his back, draping his arms loosely over the man's shoulders.
Viktor had put his ear-buds in sometime back, but pulled one out when he felt the weight on his back.
The younger figure had whispered something to him that Minako couldn't hear, but she could see the silver skater smile and nuzzle Yuri's cheek where it was next to his own, then showing him something on his phone. Yuri seemed to get excited about whatever it was, but just as the ballerina was about to ask about it, she saw headlights coming to a stop on the other side of the road, getting ready to pull into the arena driveway. Two other cars slowly meandered by before it was clear, and the gunmetal Kei-car finally pulled up and came to a stop in front of her.
Mikhail hopped out from the driver's side and quickly moved to the opposite, pulling open the double-doors so everyone else could get in. The back seats were pushed as far to the rear as possible.
"...Why'd you rent such an ugly little thing?" Viktor wondered, gaping at the metal box with wheels, "Normally you go all-out with sleek-looking hybrids."
Mikhail had his mouth open to answer, but spotted Minako to the side waving her hands in front of her throat and shaking her head as though pleading for him not to take the bait. So, he closed his yap again without a word, and just watched as the skater dumped the two bags at his feet and wandered off to get into the vehicle.
Yuri slid in next to his partner, and kicked his legs out as straight as they could go, "...Oh, I bet I know why."
"What's what?" The Russian wondered at him, pulling his seatbelt over as Minako went to take her own place in the front passenger seat.
Mikhail was stuck outside, hefting the skater's luggage in and closing doors behind them all.
"Mikhail wouldn't be caught dead driving a minivan or a people-mover, but he still has to haul Konstantin around. Regular cars probably wouldn't cut it, so he had to get this thing." Yuri explained, pulling his own seatbelt across as well, "...Kei-cars are supposed to be really light weight though. I bet Konstantin doubled the weight just by sitting in it!"
They all seemed to have a good laugh about that as the older silver man was getting back in behind the steering wheel. He put the car into gear and pulled back out onto the road, heading north again.
"Sapporo Prince first. Yuri needs to dig some replacement eyeballs out of their bags." Minako said factually, "Then to the skating rink."
Mikhail just turned his eyes towards her, only one visible from under the short brim of his flat-cap.
"What?" She asked innocently, leaning against her hand, elbow up against the doorframe.
He glowered silently, fingers tightening on the wheel a little.
Minako just laughed at his expense.
"What rink are we going to anyway?" Viktor asked her, "And how late are they open?"
"It's the Sapporo Tsukisamu Gymnasium." She said, turning in her seat to look back at him between the two front seats, "It's only open until 9, but if they're smart, they'll keep the doors open once they see you two."
.
The Prince hotel wasn't hard to spot from a distance, especially since the blizzard from the day before had settled to a whimper of its former fury. The Kei-car halted in the rotunda in front of the main doors, and the skating duo exited, but only after Mikhail opened the doors for them. They said nothing as they stepped within the building and disappeared for a little while, heading to the upper floors.
Minako sat quietly as they waited, lightly tapping her finger against the base of the window as music quietly played on the radio. She let the salty old Russian simmer in his silence for a while before finally addressing him again, "You can talk as long as they're not in ear-shot."
"Thisisridiculous." He said quickly, "Why are you in on it?"
"Because it's either this, or Viktor puts his foot up your butt, and I can't guarantee he won't be wearing a skate at the time. If it makes you feel any better though, this was all Yuri's idea." She explained, still smirking to herself as she did so, but then turning her eyes to look at him, "Just a word of advice though...when they do let you start talking, don't apologize again. Viktor's tired of hearing it. He wants to see how sorry you are."
"I get the strange feeling you're enjoying this."
"Immensely."
Mikhail turned his gaze back out over the wheel, looking at the snowflakes as the headlights in front of the car lit them up into glowing orbs, "I thought you liked me."
"I do. Quite a bit, actually. But in spite of it all, like those boys, I'm still a bit mad at you for bringing Konstantin here. So, if this is the worst punishment either of them are going to mete out on you, I'd consider it a win. Besides, it's fun to watch you squirm." The ballerina explained, reaching over to swipe the flat-cap off his silver head again, putting it back on her own.
The Russian's hair was a bit ruffled from the snatch, but he just tilted his head a little and deadpanned the woman who'd nabbed it, "Are you sure this is going to work...?"
"Viktor said he doesn't want you to leave. He just...wants to be sure you've learned your lesson." Minako said, adjusting where her bangs came out from under the hat's rim, checking herself in the fold-down mirror on the back of the sun-visor, "After everything I've heard, it sounds to me like Viktor kind of lost sight of himself after you popped up in St. Petersburg. He had Yuri and their skating to remind him of what he really was, but then there was you, making him feel like he was 5 again." Satisfied with how she looked, she flipped the visor up against the car ceiling, and sat back against the chair, "From what I've been told, your original separation was pretty traumatic for him, and after you were gone, things went down-hill for him. He doesn't think you really appreciate the gravity of his experience...maybe that you're even dismissing it, thinking he's not being serious, or that maybe he exaggerated what happened. A lot changed when you left, but it wasn't just because you left."
Mikhail reached up to put his hair back in place, but then sulked, leaning against his own doorframe, "I started it though."
"Don't make it about you." Minako warned calmly, "Just accept your punishment as it's doled out to you, and when they're ready, they'll welcome you back into the fold."
.
It was nearly 8:45 before the car finally pulled into the parking lot in front of the second skating rink. A few people were coming out of the building, looking up to admire the lightly falling snow as they headed to their own vehicles.
Like before, the skating duo waited for the doors to be opened for them before they stepped out, and Mikhail had the distinguished pleasure of getting to carry gear for the both of them inside. He followed at a distance, seeing the pair heading for the doors. They hopped up the wide steps at the front of the building, and disappeared within. Minako held back and, if nothing else, acted like something of a quiet cheering section. Still, he grumbled and climbed the steps, carrying all those bags with him. By the time he made it through the doors, Viktor and Yuri had already made themselves known to the rink staff.
Surprising no one, the pair were well known.
Yuri had made a concerted effort to do everything short of begging for the rink to be kept open for one more hour. All it took, in the end, to get them to agree to do so was pose for some photos and sign some rink-posters. They were getting their skates on in no time, and Minako was working on getting their music plugged into the arena's sound system, hooking up Yuri's laptop to bring up the master playlist. Once she was done, she waved to let Viktor know.
"Play 'Duetto' first!" Yuri called out, skating forward quickly towards her end of the rink, "We're gonna do it as a warm-up. Singles and doubles, nothing too complicated."
Nodding, she scrolled through the track list until she came across the requested song, then lifted her head, "Got it. Ready?"
Viktor moved back towards rink-side as his partner moved out to center, swinging his arms out a few times and twisting his core for good measure. Once he was done, he took his position, and waved out to the ballerina to hit Play.
The piano started above, muffled only by the sound of excited giggling by those who were staying behind to watch the impromptu show. Yuri lifted his head and dipped forward, following his cues as the lyrics began softly overhead.
Sento una voce che piange lontano
Anche tu, sei stato forse abbandonato?
The quad Lutz was simplified to a double, but the meager group of spectators clapped anyway.
Orsù finisca presto questo calice di vino
e inizio a prepararmi
A rather salty Mikhail was watching quietly from beyond the edge of the rink-wall, leaning where he had his arms crossed on top of it.
Double Flip.
Adesso fa' silenzio
Viktor slid in from the side, meeting his husband's hand and cupping his own against the man's cheek, then taking that hand and skating backwards to get into formation.
Stammi vicino, non te ne andare
Blades scratched harmoniously on the ice, clattering with each jump, louder and quieter like a symphony.
The elder Russian could do nothing but stew in his muted state, watching the program go on like he felt he wasn't entitled to see it anymore.
They debuted this program at the Four Continents Exhibition. ...Did Viktor already know what happened before he skated? Or did he find out about it after...?
His thoughts went back to the moment the whole world changed for him as much as it had for his nephew, getting that phone-call from Konstantin to come home to Russia.
I'd been sick since the previous afternoon. In my soul, I knew she was gone before I heard the words. Actually being told though... I've never known that kind of blinding pain before.
Returning to the Motherland was as hard as he'd expected it to be. Driving through St. Petersburg on his way north, and finally arriving at that little town like he'd only been gone for a few hours. Arriving though, and seeing the state of it...the way everything had fallen apart, decayed...how his own house had burned to the ground...and seeing that little graveyard on a hill next to the Nikiforov household. Konstantin had answered the door quickly enough, and held it aside to let him through. Mikhail had seen the three envelopes on the kitchen table as soon as he walked in.
[What's all that?] He'd asked, skipping the awkward formalities.
[Your Russian has gotten weak since you left. Your accent isn't quite right.] The bear pointed out, [Where were you this whole time anyway?]
[Ukraine at first, then Canada... I travel a lot for work these days.] He answered, stepping close to the table as he realized the Cyrillic on one envelope spelled out his name, [This is Tat's handwriting.]
[One for both of us. She made them about four years ago.]
[Both of us...? But there's three...] Mikhail pointed out, reaching for the third, only to get a massive finger coming down on it. It was flipped upside down to begin with, so the silver Russian couldn't even see whose name was written on it, but he had a feeling, [That's for Vi-]
[His name isn't spoken in this house.] Kon said stiffly, [As far as I'm concerned, he's dead.]
[He's not though, right?] Mikhail asked, a bit nervously, as though chancing the possibility that his nephew might actually be dead, [You're just saying that.]
[I'm going to put this letter into his corpse's hand in two days. His Undertaker is digging him up right now.]
[Let me do it then.] The smaller man offered, pulling on the envelope corner until it came out from under the finger, [He may not even show up if you go.]
[I told Tat that I would put each of these into the hands of the people they were addressed to. I always follow through on what I say I'm going to do. If he doesn't show up, then no one can say I didn't carry out my obligations.] Kon said grimly.
Mikhail wasn't convinced, but found Viktor's envelope swiped from his hand again anyway. He was left with his own, and stubbornly went with it to the couch in the main room. It was the same couch it had been 25 years before; worn out, patched and covered with a blanket on one side, but still the same couch. Unlacing the string from the loop closure, he pulled the flap open and withdrew three pieces of hand-written paper. Before reading them though, he turned his grey-green Rozovsky eyes up at the Nikiforov patriarch, [How did it happen?]
[Blizzard. She hit a tree.]
[...Did she suffer?]
[Hard to know.]
.
Konstantin was at the door. The priest was inside, straightening out his ritual attire. Mikhail was looking at pictures on the mantle. A third man, a local that Mikhail didn't know, was turning his hat around in his hands.
[He's here.] The bear finally said in a hushed tone, not taking his eyes off the sight he'd set them on, [Let's go.]
The silver Russian was out the door after the Orthodox priest, and spotted a thin, silver-haired man with a stocky older man in dark colors walking next to him. Time seemed to slow down for a moment, and Mikhail's eyes went wide.
'He looks exactly like I used to, before I left...' He thought in a slight panic, 'God, I hope no one holds it against him.'
[I forbid you from talking to him on my property.] Konstantin said suddenly, turning his head back slightly as they headed down the path towards the graveyard, [When this is done, he's leaving, and never coming back. Understand?]
[...Ah...er... Okay...?] Mikhail answered in confusion, too perplexed to manage anything more coherent.
'What in the fuck happened here? Why does he hate Vivi so much...?'
.
"VITYA!" The older, stocky man called out.
Mikhail was at the window immediately, wondering if someone was being attacked by a bear. When he pulled the curtain back, he saw Konstantin looming behind Viktor at the grave marker.
"Oh crap."
'What do I do? What do I do!?' He thought, panic creeping up inside him again, 'I don't know what to do!'
[You made us wait.] The bear's voice could be heard, but only barely.
[We were here an hour before you said to show. Whatever tardiness you're accusing me of is your own fault.] Viktor answered back, staying still where he was.
[At least you had the sense to leave your wife behind.] Konstantin chortled.
What Mikhail saw next left him gaping. The comparatively tiny silver man had risen up, spun on his heel, and planted his right fist in the middle of Konstantin's face, drawing blood.
"VIVI!" He whisper-screamed, legs trembling where he stood.
"VIKTOR!" Yakov yelled, "What are you thinking!? Get out of there be-"
The older silver Russian hid behind the wall after that. He saw Viktor being held by the neck, shoved down to his knees on the freshly-turned earth. Mikhail knew what was coming, and he couldn't stand to watch it happen. More words were spoken, too quiet and muffled by the house to hear properly...but he heard the bone-cracking punch...and the second one. The hollow sound of a kick in the chest, and the impact of a body against the gravestone echoed after.
After a brief silence, the angry yelling began. Mikhail had his hands over his ears for the start of it, but then gathered his strength and pushed to stand, reaching for his jacket and hat next to the door.
[I'm not a stripper. I'm an ATHLETE. Figure skating is an Olympic sport for fuck's sake!] Viktor yelled, cringing in agony, blood swiftly dripping down the side of his face, darkening the white snow with splatters and streaks of red.
'Figure skating...?' Mikhail thought, standing deadly still in the doorway like the words had sucked the ghost right out of his body, 'No... There's no way, it's not possible... Of all the things...'
.
"You okay?"
He twitched and blinked, looking up from where he'd buried his face against the crook of his arms on the rink wall.
Minako was looking down at him, a hand on his shoulder, "...Mikhail...?"
Grey-green eyes went out across the rink, realizing the music had stopped. His nephew and in-law were skating casually, talking quietly between each other. He shook his head and pushed to stand upright, cringing a little and dropping a hand to the rink-wall where an unexpected cramp in his back nearly winded him. Holding his free hand to the painful spot, he grumbled quietly, "Yeah...I just...zoned out I guess."
"You've been zoned out for 30 minutes."
"Ah Hell... Did I miss Viktor's SP?"
"No, he's still working himself up to start it." The ballerina explained, "They've been doing their Exhibitions and Pair Skates, and are taking a quick break right now. I think Viktor's working on something new, but I'm not sure. I'm surprised the bass from 'The Ghost' didn't bring you around though."
"Me too. That thing could wake the dead a mile away." The elder sighed, wincing as he tried to sit down on a bench behind himself.
Minako quickly stepped in to help him down, and sat next to him, "Turn sideways and take your coat off. I'll straighten you out again."
Mikhail just cringed at the thought of it, but did as told and turned to face away from her, "...Why did the gods bless you with the ability to remove pain, but curse you by making it so you'd be inflicting more first...?"
"No pain, no gain." She said simply, "Ready?"
"Absolutely not."
The skating duo slid by in confusion as they heard a quiet shriek, looking back over their shoulders to see Minako torturing the older man. Viktor seemed to recognize the technique though, "...Minako-sensei knows deep-tissue massage...?"
"Sure." Yuri answered, "Why?"
The silver skater scratched to a quick stop, glancing at his husband with an opportunistic look on his face. He smirked then and started moving back the way they came, pulling his partner along until he got to the rink-wall where the pair were sitting.
"You must be doing a good job if you're making him cry." He mused, "I should have you work on me next time."
The ballerina gawked up at the skater, seeing that irresistible playboy look on his face, "...You...want me to do...this...on you?" She stammered.
"Sure. It's horrible to go through, but it works really well." Viktor started, turning to thumb over his shoulder, "Sometimes my lower back and legs hurt after practice, an-"
"I couldn't."
"Eh?" Blue eyes blinked at her, "How come?"
"Yuri might get mad at me. If you let me put my hands on you, I might never take them off again."
"HEY." Mikhail harped, only to get two hands coming around from behind to clamp his mouth shut again. He could only sulk after that, drowning in the sorrow of everyone around him laughing. His only consolation was having his lady love pressed against his back, despite the pain still lingering from her knuckles and thumbs pressing so deeply into his skin before.
Why does everything good in life have to hurt so much...?