CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED NINETEEN

The Banquet, being hosted by the JSF, made quite the huge deal out of Yuri being there. They cheered for his two Gold Medal wins in the qualifying competitions, and drank several toasts to his (hopefully) Gold Medal victory at the subsequent Final. By the look of things, it was almost as though Yuri himself had won the NHK Trophy rather than Viktor, since he was in there with Phichit and Leo giving the usual post-Exhibition appearances rather than the Russian.

It wasn't all that surprising though given how salty Viktor had become since their arrival. People didn't even want to ask him to join in. He just played on his phone or drew wrinkles into the cloth at the Team Russia table, and all but ignored those who tried to talk to him. Eventually, after an hour had passed that way, he just put in his ear-buds and went face-down on his crossed arms.

Yuri continuously looked over at him, each time feeling a pit in his stomach, not knowing what to do. He held onto the small bag and box that had been gifted to all the event's medalists, having to claim it on the skater's behalf.

Phichit came up from the side with a flute of champagne in each hand, giving one over like it was slightly more than a suggestion, "What's eating him?" He wondered quietly.

"Yakov scolded him in the shuttle. Viktor hasn't said a word since."

"Not even to you?"

"Not even to me."

"Yeesh. What was the scolding for? I didn't hear anything from the front." Phichit pointed out, taking a sip from his own flute.

Yuri just looked down into his, watching the bubbles rising from the bottom of the glass, "The way he handled the end of the weekend." He said simply, "Yakov thinks Viktor's trying too hard to please his father."

"Really? I thought everyone would be happy with the way things turned out. Viktor looked pretty pleased with it all in the end."

"He was, and then Yakov took him down a notch or two...or ten..." The older skater sighed, sipping a bit at the champagne as well then, and holding the rim of the flute to his lip, "Viktor normally lets Yakov's lectures roll off his back. I don't know why he's taking it so personally this time."

"Where is Yakov anyway?" The Thai figure wondered, looking around the room; the crowd was too thick to really see anything though.

"Probably wherever Mila is." Yuri said, drawing in a breath and taking a step forward towards the Team Russia table, "I'm going to try to talk to him. He's making people uncomfortable by just sitting there like that."

"Okay... Good luck, Yuri."

The older skater nodded and moved off, quietly sneaking between the different tables until he found the one he was after. Initially, Yuri just looked down at the man, wondering how he should approach the whole situation, but eventually he moved to set the gift bag and present onto the table, and nudged it until it was close to center, in front of the skater, "Viktor...?"

No answer; maybe he didn't hear. The music from his ear-buds was loud enough that Yuri could almost make-out what was playing.

That having failed, the younger skater pulled out the chair tucked in next to his husband and sat in it sideways, facing the Russian and reaching a wary arm across his shoulders. He hesitated a moment, but then finally set his arm down. He almost regretted it though, since as soon as his palm was pressed against the dark blue fabric, Viktor jerked up, turning around and looking about ready to reach over and throw whoever had grabbed him right over the other side of the table. Their eyes met though, and the Russian quickly stopped, realizing it was Yuri and not someone else. The champagne flute rolled on the floor, the bubbly spilling out onto the carpet. Viktor quickly looked away after that, burying his face back into the crook of his folded arms again and saying nothing.

Yuri drew in a breath, feeling like his ghost had been scared away by the sudden movement, and glanced down to reach for the glass that had been knocked right out of his hand. He set it onto the table top and wiped the drops of champagne off on a nearby fabric napkin, and tried again with his partner. This time though, instead of just getting immediately close again, Yuri pulled out the ear-bud closest to him and then draped his arm over, putting the bud into his own ear to hear whatever Viktor had been listening to.

It sounded particularly ominous, with a powerful orchestra and a Gregorian-sounding choir in the background, but a few seconds in, Yuri recognized it immediately.

Dark Eyes...

He moved in a little closer after that, resting his chin on the Russian's arm and leaning his head until he could feel the man's ear against his cheek, "Viktor... Come join the party. Everyone's worried about you."

"I don't feel like it right now." The silver skater answered simply, not moving, "I just want to go home."

"...I know...we've been gone for a long time..." Yuri agreed, rubbing his thumb gently back and forth across the man's back, "We'll be on the short plane-ride to Fukuoka in less than 12 hours. Then it'll be nothing but Makkachin and the sea-side. Peace and quiet."

"...If we both medal at the Final..." Viktor said, turning his head slightly towards his partner, but looking down at his arm, eyes half-closed, "...I'm going to retire after Worlds for sure. I can't do this again next year."

"Eh?" Yuri lifted up a bit, giving a look of confusion, "Don't say that right now... You've been upset since we got off the shuttle. You'll feel differently later."

"No." The Russian finally lifted off the table, moving a hand over to where his phone had been lying flat just near the gifts, clicking it on only long enough to pause the music and pull out the second ear-bud, "It's different now. If we both medal...or, even worse, if Yurio does, too...we'll be going to all six events next year, not just four."

"We don't have to go to Yurio's events. We didn't last year."

"Have you already forgotten how upset he got when you missed his Free Skate the second time?"

"No, but-"

"The ISU doesn't generally put the medalists into the same events if they all return the following year. What happened this year was a fluke simply because I was back. Next year..." He shook his head lightly, then lowered it, closing his eyes, "...I won't have the energy to hop from city to city for competitions and then go straight to the Final again after that. It's 7 weeks straight. It's too much."

"So opt out of the Grand Prix and just do Nationals, Euros, and Worlds. You've already done enough this season to get your marks for next year if you wanted to be selective." Yuri suggested, "...Please don't make a decision like this when you're in a bad mood. You've barely had time to think about it."

"I've been thinking about it." The Russian reached for a napkin and rubbed his nose on it, crumpling it in his hands after, "Ever since Bordeaux...and especially since we got here to the banquet... I was so much happier just being your coach. I've had a good run and I've set a bunch of records...I'm okay with how things might end this year. But I'm tired."

"You're being impulsive aga-"

Viktor turned sharply to look at him, "Name one thing I did on the fly in the last year that didn't turn into a disaster."

Yuri blinked at him, "Eloping with me to Barcelona...?"

The Russian hesitated, but then shook his head, "Fine, two things."

"The speech you gave at our wedding party back in Hasetsu?"

"...Three things..."

"Giving up 'Evoke' and creating a new Free Skate to replace it in a single day? Getting me gold-plated skates, just like yours? Coming up with Duetto and placing the order for my matching outfit so it'd be ready when we got to St. Petersburg? Buying this matching ring without me noticing, right after I bought the one I was going to give to you? Suggesting we get the matching snowflake engravings on the inside, so we'd always have a link back to the ice even when we're both so old that we can't skate anymore?" Yuri answered again, giving his partner a worried look, "You're talking like you think you never have good ideas. That's not true. You've just...had bad luck with a few things this last year...and basically all of it has been stuff that involves your father. Make impulsive choices that have nothing to do with him and you'll be fine."

"Unless it's saying I want to retire."

"You're making that choice right after getting scolded by Yakov about your father. It's the same thing." The younger figure protested, "Please, Viktor... Let this all settle down... We'll get those bowls of katsudon for our victories and just enjoy the week, away from all this craziness. Don't take all this baggage with you into the Final. Just put it at the back of your mind for now and come back to it later, after you've had time to relax for a while."

The silver Russian lowered his head again, sliding his chin and mouth into the crook of his elbow with a sigh. He held there for a moment, but then moved his left arm up to curl over itself, and felt for his partner's fingers where they were settled on his shoulder, holding quietly.

Yuri watched him for a moment, but then leaned in closer, wrapping the other arm around the older skater as well, pressing his cheek against the back of the man's neck.

"...I really didn't think that inviting my father to Russian Nationals would turn into something like this." Viktor explained quietly, "The way Konstantin seemed to settle down and just accept things...even accepting you... I really thought that everything was behind us now. That the fighting was done and the anger was gone...we could just move forward and start building a relationship rather than constantly finding things to yell at each other over. But the way you and Yakov reacted was a complete shock for me. Where did I go wrong...?" He tilted his face down and buried his eyes against his sleeve, "I don't understand."

The younger figure could feel his throat starting to hurt, as though his partner's pain was seeping into him. He turned his head where it lay and kissed the Russian's ear lightly, "We're still hurting from what happened to you because of him." He explained, "I can't forgive what I saw, not this easily. The image of you coming back to the Skate Club in St. Petersburg with a red eye, and blood all over your face, in your hair, and on your clothes...that'll haunt me until the day I die. Yakov probably feels the same, and he'd seen it happen once before then, too...so everything that happened last year was a trauma he had to live through again. We both had to step back and watch how much you suffered, even letting you do your Rage Skate despite how high the risk was that you'd seriously hurt yourself while performing it. But you're done with it now...and so are we. We're done seeing you agonizing over that man. We want to see you happy again."

"I thought I was happy."

"...You took a big step towards healing, that's true." Yuri said, "But you're trying to skip a bunch of steps to get to the end. You're not there yet."

Viktor lifted his head again, twisting to pull away from the table, and slid his arms under his partner's arms, around his sides and to his back, settling his eyes against the crook of the man's shoulder and neck, "...What am I missing? What else do I have to do?"

"Have patience." The younger figure answered simply, "Let time pass. Rest. It's like I told you before...what's happening with Konstantin right now is Mikhail's project. Let him figure it out. It was brave of you to give your father your car...but let that be the end of it. I'll find a way to move back into your house myself if I have to, just to keep it for us."

"But why? What do we need it for? We moved away from Russia for a reason..."

"We left Russia mostly to get away from your family. But we both said that we should go back during the summer and be tourists for a while. I fully expect to see the Summer Garden one day...in Summer."

"...Even though that's where all this started?"

Yuri shook his head, "This all started in South Korea. I'm trying to reclaim the things that were spoiled for us after that. If we go during better weather, the Summer Garden will be an entirely different experience for us anyway. We're supposed to go tour Old Japan, too, remember?"

The Russian turned his head, setting it sideways against the skater's shoulder instead, "...Yeah..."

"And next weekend, I'll be able to show you my old stomping grounds. The last time you were in Detroit for anything, we didn't know each other, so whatever you saw or did there had no history. But I lived, went to school, and trained there for 5 years. It's my second home, after Hasetsu. I wouldn't be surprised if most of the people I knew there are still there." The younger man explained, turning as well as he could to see his partner, "...And most of them knew what a giant fan of yours I was. Won't it be funny to see the looks on all their faces when I show up with you? The way I talked about you back then, I should've been on staff as your publicist or something. I was always bragging about the things you'd accomplished or the competitions you'd won. They probably knew more about you back then because of me than they did about their own kids' friends."

Viktor couldn't help but laugh softly at the idea of it, "Wow."

"You laugh, but I'm not joking." Yuri said, "What you saw at the wedding party was just the tip of the iceberg. All those fan-clubs for you? I was the President of all of them. And now, I'm the President and CEO of the best fan-club of all."

"Which one's that?"

"The Viktor Nikiforov Husband Club. I'm the only member. I have the surname to prove it." He pulled out his wallet and flipped it open to show his Japanese ID card, "See? They even had to write it in English font for accuracy. I can only imagine how many people in the government were looking at the document change orders and wondering what happened. It must've been really confusing for them to change a man's surname for once."

The Russian huffed another quiet laugh, thumbing the card briefly through the clear-plastic window.

Yuri folded it back up again and returned it to the pocket from which it came, reaching his hands forward after that to find his partner's, "Do you feel better now?"

Viktor nodded lightly, lifting his head a little higher than before, "A little."

"Only a little bit?"

Blue eyes raised to meet hazel, and the skater drew a sharp breath, nodding, "Maybe a moderate amount better."

The silver Russian could feel his partner inching closer, nosing his way past his bangs, and the light brush of soft black strands against his brow. He closed his eyes and let himself be drawn into the soft kiss, bringing one hand up to set it gently against his husband's chest, then a second kiss before Yuri pulled back to nose his lip a little.

"And now?"

"...A lot better."

The younger figure smiled, reaching both arms up over his partner's shoulders and drawing him into a hug, "That's just what I like to hear." He could feel the Russian returning the gesture, sliding his arms under his sides again like before, "Now...come with me to the rest of the party. People will be glad to know you're okay again. They were worried."

Viktor nodded lightly, but held in the hug a little while longer, "...I sometimes still get flutters in my chest when we do that."

"Mh...me too."