CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED THIRTY TWO
Walking back down to the main part of the resort, Yuri couldn't help but think back on the moments prior. Yurio's words had pulled him back into the room, only to end with a 'never mind,' and it settled like curdled milk in the skater's sensitive stomach.
What was he going to say...?
It nagged at him endlessly, even as he made his way back into the onsen changing room and got back into the practice clothes he'd worn over from the house. Eventually getting to the main entryway, he couldn't help but be reminded of another time the teen had looked vulnerable.
It was just like that time in the waterfall last year, when he found his Agape. Back then it was his grandpa...I wonder if this time it was Mikhail? ...Who knows...he'll probably never tell me anyway.
The front door slid open, and Yuri caught sight of Phichit and Viktor both tossing snowballs across the resort's front patio, with Makkachin jumping up repeatedly in the middle trying to catch them. The pooch quickly caught sight of him though, and abandoned the snowballs almost immediately. With a bark, the big brown poof came charging at the hapless skater, knocking him right back inside the building like he'd done on the eve of their very first meeting nearly 2 years prior.
Sprawled and stunned, Yuri blinked down at the dog, only to get a few licks on the face before the pup's main human came to pull him off again with a laugh.
"You okay?" Viktor mused, leaning down and holding the dog up with its back to his chest, "Makkachin got you good."
Seeing the silver-haired legend looking down from above was a stark departure from Yuri's memory of that first encounter with the poodle, and his cheeks flushed lightly. He lazily dropped down all the way onto his back after that, staring at the ceiling with his arms splayed out to the side on the cowhide rug, "...Yeah, it's been a while since I got knocked over like that. Guess I wasn't paying attention."
The Russian hoisted his dog back over the threshold and set those cold front paws down in the snow, patting the animal's fluffy back leg to encourage him to go back outside, then turned to his rattled husband. Two ungloved hands went forward to pull the skater up to his feet again, but when Yuri was vertical once more, Viktor continued to pull those hands up, guiding them over his shoulders and only then let them go. His own hands went down around the man's sides and pulled him closer, "What took so long?" He purred.
Yuri gave an uncertain expression in response, lowering his voice in case the Russian Punk was somehow in earshot without his notice, "Yurio thinks we told Mikhail to get him the tiger plush."
"...Technically we did, kind of." Viktor answered, speaking quietly as well.
"You only suggested he do something nice for Yurio, in Detroit."
The older figure shrugged, "All the same."
Yuri sighed to himself, leaning his head forward to bury it into his husband's pale grey scarf, curling his arms around the back of the man's shoulders to hold a little tighter. He could feel the soft warmth of Viktor's cheek and lips against his neck, and it was a small solace, "...He thinks it's just a bribe to convince him not to be upset about all the changes happening now. I don't know how to convince him that the world isn't out to get him. No matter what I do or say, it's like Yurio is firm in his belief that everyone is a betrayer waiting for the opportunity."
Phichit watched them quietly, but being unable to hear what they were saying, turned instead to kneel down in front of the poodle as Makkachin came trotting up to him. He reached forward and ruffled the dog's ears, playfully holding them out like they were wings. The flufferbutt just panted quietly, happy for the attention either way.
"I don't think there's anything you can do, Yuri." Viktor whispered, speaking the words against his spouse's skin, "Once he's made up his mind about someone, it's hard to make him change. Even I've had to make adjustments to how I handle him because of it."
The younger man sighed again, knowing it was too true.
...Yurio never acted like he was that close to anyone, but he still came all the way to Japan just to track Viktor down. Then he went back home to Russia with his tail between his legs, and was antagonistic towards Viktor for the rest of that entire season, climaxing at Worlds with that huge meltdown that got him kicked off the Russian team.
He pulled back a bit from the taller man's shoulder, looking into the pools of light blue that gazed back at him adoringly, but all he could do was furrow his brow in worry and cast his own eyes down again, forcing Viktor to worry a bit as well.
I don't know what more I can do to help him. Yuri thought, pulling his hands back down and clasping his fingers around the dark fleece lapels of the Russian's heavy jacket, Am I the only person he trusts...? Can I even truthfully say that about him? He keeps me at a distance even when he's trying to be open.
Viktor just held him closer, one hand coming up to weave fingers through raven hair, "Let's get going." He suggested, pulling the younger man out of his thoughts, "You need to do some footwork drills before you go crazy."
.
The call's out-going dial-tone rang on for an uncomfortably long time. The Russian Tiger was convinced it was going to go to voice-mail any second. However, just as he was pulling the phone away from his ear, he heard the click.
"...Mmmello...?" The voice answered blearily.
Yurio stayed quiet for a moment, but then closed his eyes and spoke simply, "Hey."
There was another pause, though it sounded like there was a rustling of blankets in the background. The man on the other end yawned and rose to his feet, quietly leaving the room with not but a pair of thin blue-plaid flannel pants on, "Sorry, I didn't realize it was you. Give me a second to go somewhere else." Mikhail whispered, hoping his movement and the flashing lights of his phone hadn't woken Minako up. He turned back as he was putting the door to, making sure she stayed where she was in the big bed, and tip-toed down the hall.
Feeling his way along the banister, the elder Russian slipped down the stairs, making his way down to the lower level and into his private study before turning on any lights.
The room was big. One side had a massive Belgian shrank; glass doors on the middle cabinets shielding numerous small trinkets from the dust of the open air. The uncovered shelves just under the roof of the solid wood wall-unit held rows of thick books, texts from college years gone by on one side, some with lettering in Cyrillic while others were in English, and books dedicated to the craft and art of architecture on the other. The rest of the enormous structure housed closed cabinet doors, some with small locks keeping them closed, others free to open. On the other side of the room, separated by a huge floor-to-ceiling window with wooden blinds pulled to half-tilt, was a solid wood L-desk, parked directly into the corner. The room's furnishing was completed with a casual comfort-corner; a low glass-top round table with two futons and a leather reclining-chair around it.
The walls were decorated with a few, albeit large framed pictures. The largest was a 6'x4' impressionist painting of the Moscow skyline, followed by several slightly smaller ones of varying shapes that featured the Triad of Rozovsky children, plus one with them and Mikhail all together from some trip when they were all much younger.
When the Russian sat in the leather office-chair in front of his computer and looked back towards the double-doors that lead into the room, he spotted two rather tall framed pictures. On the right side of the door, a blown up photo from his nephew's wedding photobook, featuring the world-famous couple in their 'Duetto' ensemble, Viktor behind Yuri, their hands clasped together somewhere outside the frame where their arms were raised, each of them looking towards center to see one another. On the left, one of Yurio in his 'Appassionato' outfit in the midst of a rather intense maneuver; the wide spin-kick from the very beginning of the program.
On the desk itself though, a smaller framed picture of Yurio and Minako from one of their brief visits to Moscow during the summer, and next to that, a three-unit frame with school photos of the man's kids again; more recent pictures.
"Okay, sorry about that." He said again, rubbing his eyes as they adjusted to the light, reclining back in the chair, "What's up? Got tired of me pestering you?"
"I..." Yurio started, "...Mhhhh... Thanks for the tiger."
"Oh wow, you got it already?" Mikhail mused, smiling a bit where he still had his fingers pinched at the bridge of his nose, eyes closed, "I didn't think it'd get there till Wednesday."
"You haven't called in hours."
"...It's 1am here, Yura, and I just spent 12 hours on a plane." The elder made a face, looking around in disbelief, "There's no phone service at 30,000 feet."
"...Mmhr."
"You didn't call just to say thanks for a plush toy though, did you?"
"No."
Mikhail rolled the chair back a little on the thick plastic sheet beneath it, and kicked his feet up onto the edge of the desk, "Do you want to go first or should I?"
"Probably you."
"Okay." The elder Russian drew in a breath, "You don't have to feel angry or threatened by what's happening out here. I'm not going to pull my sponsorship of you and just piss-off into the sunset just because I have a few more things to handle now. I told you I'd take care of you and I'm going to."
Yurio slouched a bit further, sinking down against the side of the plush tiger. He pulled the phone from his ear though and clicked the screen to set it to Speaker, and set it down on his chest, crossing his arms behind his head.
"I've thought a little about how this whole thing is going to play out anyway... There really isn't a single thing I can do that'll work out well for everyone. The best I can think of is to move everyone to Hasetsu. You tag along with me there often enough anyway, and most people in the city speak English, so my kids won't feel like alie-"
"Your plans sound an awful lot like you think I'd be living with you."
"Not really. You were living with Lillia again after getting reinstated. Plus you still have that apartment in St. Petersburg with you mo-"
"It's basically my apartment." The teen corrected, "Well...mine and Potya's, anyway. My mother is barely around long enough to change and sleep and then leave again. I'm not even sure my father remembers the address."
"Who is taking care of your cat anyway? She's been alone for over 2 weeks now."
"I use a pet service when I'm gone. I prefer that she isn't in a kennel, so I pay for someone to stop by every other day to make sure everything is okay. The guy that goes sends me a video-text every time he's there. Cats are very adaptable." Yurio explained, hearing the sound of a car starting outside, "Potya can handle herself."
"Wouldn't you prefer to get to see her every day in person?" Mikhail said, the suggestion sounding rather abrupt.
The teen's green eyes widened, then narrowed, "What are you saying?"
"Viktor considers his dog to be like family. He once told me that he'd been really glad for the break he took from competition to coach Yuri, because it meant he got to spend a lot more time with Makkachin."
"So?"
"Isn't Potya like family to you?"
"Of course she is. Why would you suggest like she isn't?" Yurio pushed up to sitting, holding the phone aggressively in front of himself, looking a bit annoyed.
"Well, if I take the whole Fam Damily to Hasetsu, you'd be more than welcome to come with us. Bring your keekat with you." The elder explained, staying placidly still in his cushy chair, "It'd be super easy to transfer all your schooling stuff there, cuz I'd be doing all that for my kids already anyway. ...Hell, I think it'd probably be good for you to have some kids your own age to hang out with sometimes. Beka is the only person you like that's even close to your age."
"...Beka?" Yurio cocked a brow.
"That guy from little-former-Russia. The one you did that Pair Skate with at the China Exhibition."
The teen smacked his forehead, falling back to the tiger's side, phone dropping down to his chest again, "Otabek."
"Yeah, him."
"...'Beka.'" Yurio repeated incredulously, "Jesus Christ."
"Point is...he's not around a lot. You basically only see him at competition. You have no friends in St. Petersburg, and you basically think Mila is covered in cooties. Everyone else is way older than you, so you can't easily relate."
"Your son's an asshole." The blonde growled, "You couldn't convince me to hang out with him if you got me a small pride of life-size wildcat plushes."
"I know, I know, I'll be dealing with him tomorrow. I think you might have a lot in common with Viktoria though. You and her have the same style sense. She's big into wolves, and I honestly wouldn't be shocked if you could get her addicted to big cats if you tried."
The teen had no answer to that.
"Nikki is pretty laid back and easy-going, always wanting to please people; she'd be an easy friend if you gave her half a minute. ...I know you barely interacted with any of them when they popped up in Calgary, and you thought they were annoying just from that, but consider what you thought of Yuri before." Mikhail explained, switching the phone to his other ear, "You cornered him in a bathroom once and screamed at him to retire so you wouldn't have to bear the shame of sharing the same name when you got into Seniors. Now he's practically like a big brother to you. ...I remember how mad you got at me this past weekend, and all I can think of is how you were trying to protect him from my terrible ideas. You weren't even really trying to protect Viktor from it...you were there for Yuri. ...And he's still young enough that you can hang out with him and still have things to relate to one another about, so there's that, too."
"Why are you even talking about all this? What sense is there in asking me to move in with you and your family? It'd just be weird." The teen grumbled, flipping over to throw himself over the tiger's back, dropping the phone down to the blanket behind it and crossing his arms just over top of it, staring holes into the wall.
"Because you're family too, and I want to make sure you're always okay. It's easier to do that, and easier to help you out, when you're actually around."
Yurio's eyes went wide, though his brow crinkled like he didn't believe it, and was angry at the taunt.
"Ever since I reunited with Vivi, I've slowly been introduced to all the people in his life. You, Yuri, Minako...all of you have become really important to me. I was really scared this weekend that I'd fucked up so badly that I'd lose everything. It's happened to me twice already...I don't think I'd handle a third time very well." The elder Russian explained, "...But things in Sapporo actually ended up turning out really well. I got to keep my nephew, my first family...I got to keep my new, third family...and now, in a weird, fucked-up sort of way, I'm getting to take back my second family, too. To have all three together in one place would be like a dream for me. ...I can only offer it to you the same way I'll be offering it to my kids."
"And if they refuse, you won't be able to do shit." The teen said angrily, burying his face in his arms where he slouched over the wildcat's back.
"That's a possibility." Mikhail agreed with a despondent, though quiet sigh, "I have to consider what they want, too. I'm sure the possibilities have crossed their minds over the last 2 weeks. They might already be resigned to the idea that I'll be moving them out of Banff. All three of them know I don't like the place, and the decision is mine in the end. I'd just prefer that they go willingly."
"And if they don't?"
"I won't stay in Banff any longer than is necessary to let them finish out the school year. By then, Sergio will be 18, and the girls will have had all that time to get used to the idea that they'll be moving. I'll be moving to Hasetsu regardless, after that."
"Why Hasetsu though? Why not Moscow? You're Russian."
"The thing about family, Yuri...is that home is where they are." Mikhail explained quietly, "I have no personal attachments in Moscow. It was just a work outpost to me."
"Was?"
"I moved operations to St. Petersburg over the summer, because being there made it easier to watch over Vivi's things. I'll probably get rid of my time-share in Moscow once things in Banff are settled." The silver Russian said, pulling his feet off the desk and pushing to stand, switching phone-hands again and relaxing the other in the pocket of his flannel night-pants, "At this point...and I know you hate watching it, so I imagine hearing about it will make your skin crawl...but, things with Minako are getting a bit serious now. I...love her, and want to be with her. She lives in Hasetsu, and so do Vivi and his husband. Mentally, I'm already putting this house in Edmonton up for sale, and taking stock of all the stuff I'll be moving to Japan pretty soon. The only part of my family that's missing now is you..."
Yurio was in abject shock at the words he was hearing. He lifted his face from the crook of his folded arms, glaring down at the phone's faceplate like the man speaking through it was there in its place. He was almost mad that he could feel the sting in his eyes, and even more so when he could see his vision starting to blur, but he rubbed them on his sleeves before anything else could happen, and continued his rattled stare.
"...But, you're your own person, and I can't make you do anything you don't want to do." Mikhail went on, "Things with us will just stay the same as they've always been if you decide to stay in Russia. You have reason enough to stay where you are...Yakov and Lillia are there, and the St. Petersburg Skate Club isn't going anywhere, so I understand if you say no."
Still, the blonde couldn't think of what to say. His throat was hurting and he grit his teeth in a desperate bid to make it stop, but he couldn't do anything about the shaky breaths he drew in.
"Yuri?"
"...I...I don't...believe you..." He choked.
Mikhail was taken aback slightly, but he could hear the pained sound in the skater's voice. He glanced at the photos in the room, and inhaled deeply, "I'm going to text you some things. Hold the line." He said, hitting the home-button on the front of his phone and pulling up his camera app instead, taking aim at both the life-size skating frame and the smaller photo on his desk, and sent them both to the teen, then pulled the phone back to his ear. He listened to the sound of Yurio's phone receiving the messages, and Yurio himself moving around to pick it up to click over to the next window. He waited a moment to give the teen a chance to see the pictures, but then spoke softly, "I set these up over the summer. Got a big Viktuuri photo on the other side of the door, too. I promise, Yuri...I'm not screwing with you. You don't need to have my last name to be part of this. Admittedly, it might be weird at first, but we'll figure it out. That's what families do."
Tears ran down the young figure's face, even as he had his hand clawed over it, trying not to let it happen. He couldn't take his eyes off the two photos in the text window though. Before his emotions could get away from him though, Yurio dragged in a ragged breath, and spoke the only words he could think of, "...I'll think about it..." And promptly hung up the phone.
Mikhail heard the click, and pulled his own phone away from his ear, seeing the call window change back over to the text screen. The 'Delivered' footnote under his photo-messages changed to 'Seen.' Worried about the skater's state of mind, he thumbed another text, and sat on the edge of the desk to see if he'd reply.
Yurio's phone blinked, and he cast his emerald eyes over at it.
[Goodnight, Yuri. I'm proud of you. You're loved and we want you to be happy, and we'll support you in whatever you decide to do.]
His hands shook where he held the phone. He knew Mikhail could tell that he'd read the message, but his mind had gone blank, and he didn't know what to respond with. Mercifully, three of the prompts at the top of the new-message bar offered him respite from thinking, suggesting [I], [lol], and [Spasibo] so he wouldn't have to write anything himself. He tapped a finger against [Spasibo] and sent it before the phone fell from his hands, and he clung to the back of the faux tiger, trembling with every ounce of strength to not just burst out crying.
The elder looked at the text, nodded, and clicked his phone off, yawning against the back of the arm that held it. He pushed off the edge of the desk and started wandering back to bed, clicking off the lights of the study as he went through the doors. With his eyes having adjusted to the brightness, the house was pitch black when everything was dark again, and he pawed his way along the walls to get back to the stairs, and eventually, back into the master bedroom. His spot had cooled since he'd gotten up, but he crawled back in under the heavy blankets, twisted to plug his phone back in, and then went gently back to where he'd been originally.
He realized his efforts to spare Minako were lost when he felt her moving next to him, tossing an arm over his thin frame and resting her head on his chest like she'd been before, "...Sorry..." The Russian whispered.
"Must've been important if you got up to take that call." She mumbled sleepily, "What happened?"
"Yura liked the tiger." He answered, smiling to himself in the dark as one arm curled up around the woman's back, "Hopefully tomorrow will go just as well."