CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED FOURTY TWO
The return to Detroit was like a Death March. Every footstep closer was a second lost to time. Yuri looked up at the sign above the door, reading 'GOOD LUCK IN SOCHI, YURI!' in black plastic block-lettering. Celestino came up behind him after paying off the taxi, and pat his back as he walked by.
"Let's get inside; it's even colder here than it was in Russia!"
The young skater could hardly make a sound...but it was colder. Somehow.
They made their way through the doors and into the Skate Club, hearing the sound of practice already underway and the thundering boom of music reverberating off the rafters. It was an old building...but it was home to numerous Champions across the years. The flags that hung down from the rafters and off the walls, with different times and events listed, were a testament to that.
Yuri kept his eyes down though, watching the back of his coach's heels as they made their way through to the commissary area.
"WELCOME HOME, YURI!" A group of people suddenly yelled all at once, catching the skater off guard and making him nearly flip-over backwards to get away.
Brown eyes glanced around the room; happy faces of a dozen or more other skaters that had all been training at the DSC; Phichit was there, too. There were other coaches, choreographers, and even past Champions helping out the younger athletes...Yuri had known many of them for all 5 years he'd been there. But that day...he could do nothing but lower his head. He couldn't look them in the eyes. The shame was too great.
"...I..." He started, voice weak, "...I'm sorry, everyone. I let you all down." He slouched where he stood.
To the side, Celestino made a worried face and crossed his arms. The other members of the club all started feeling anxious, seeing the hapless skater there before them on the verge of tears.
"It was your very first time to the Final, Yuri." Phichit finally said; the only one of them who dared to speak in that moment, "Don't beat yourself up over it. Coming in 6th when there's only 6 spots to begin with...that's still really good! Even Vikt-"
"It doesn't matter." Yuri cut him off, shaking his head, tears falling loose as he did so, "I scored lower than most people did in the qualifying events. Everyone must hate me for taking up the slot when someone much better could've been there instead."
The Thai skater came up to him quietly, but didn't dare reach a hand forward to touch him. Instead, he looked back and saw someone tossing a poodle plush-toy in his direction, caught it, and turned back around to face his friend, "You earned your spot fair and square!" He explained, trying to put the plushie into the older figure's line's of sight, though not sure if the man's eyes were even open, "Plus, you can always do better when you go to Nationals in 2 weeks. You just had first-time Final jitters, that's all, but you've been to Nationals a dozen times by now. You'll do great!"
Cherry-hazel eyes looked past the tears that had fallen to the rims of his glasses, and saw the hazy outline of the toy. It just made his throat burn to look at it, and the tears welled anew. He dropped his bags and took the plush in his arms, and fell to his knees right there in front of everyone, sobbing into the brown fluff.
.
There was no 'Welcome Home' party the next time Yuri returned from competition. Like before, his eyes looked up at the sign above the door, this time reading 'KNOCK IT OUT IN JAPAN, YURI!' This time, however...his standing in the ranks had dropped nearly double compared to the Grand Prix.
Celestino held the door open for him, and Yuri stepped in quietly, dark circles under his eyes. He could hear the whispers as they started, but the words passed through him like wind in his hair.
"...There's no chance he can go to 4CC now, is there?"
"What's he going to do for the rest of the season?"
"We heard he was thinking of quitting."
"Is he going to be okay?"
"What happened to him?"
Weeks went by that way. Yuri kept his eyes to the floor anytime he went into the building, no matter how many other skaters or coaches tried to greet him. He just bowed his head a little bit lower than it already was and went back to plodding along like a zombie. Most days, he wouldn't even go to rink-side, just staying in the cafeteria area and doing his homework, snacking on the worst possible food choices, or napping. At most, he would sneak onto the rink at the very end of the night, when it was just him and Phichit left, and did the only thing that ever made him feel better.
Sento una voce che piange lontano
Anche tu, sei stato forse abbandonato?
Phichit watched quietly from behind the rink-wall, crossing his arms and resting his chin there while his depressed friend went through the motions of a superior skater's routine. It was frustrating to see him screw up the quad Lutz and quad Flip, flopping onto the ice like a beached seal, hoarfrost clinging to his pants where he'd landed.
Yuri gave up about a third of the way through though, realizing he wasn't really feeling it that night after all, regardless of his falls. He sighed and went towards the exit, patting his thighs to be rid of the frost...only to find Phichit standing there waiting for him.
"I've seen you do that show before without fault. It's maddening to know that you can do 'Aria,' but for some reason, you can't do it in competition, when it really matters." The younger skater pointed out, looking rather serious for once, "Is it stage fright? Or was it because Viktor was there at the same event? Help us out, Yuri...we want you t-"
"Vik-chan died, back home." The older figure explained suddenly, "...I...didn't want to tell everyone and make a big deal out of it. For some reason, not many people are that understanding about pet deaths when it isn't their own...so..."
"...Vik-chan...died...? When did that happen?" Phichit was caught off guard by it.
Yuri rubbed his forehead on the back of a sleeve, but then reached for where he'd left his blade-guards on the rink-wall, and slipped them on before stepping off the ice, "The day of my Short Program in Sochi. I found out...right after I got my score. My parents had been waiting for me to finish so they could call." He stepped past the Thai skater and went to look for his jacket and towel, and Phichit followed him with a worried gaze, "Now...all I can do...is..." Yuri's words trailed, and he shook his head, feeling at where the edges of his work-out shirt weren't even flush against the elastic of his pants anymore; his lithe skater's body was starting to erode already, 32lbs overweight and really starting to show, "...All I can do is skate 'Aria,' and pretend for 4 minutes and 30 seconds that I'm not the failure I actually am."
"You're not a failure." Phichit countered, though the older figure clearly wasn't listening anymore.
"...I'm going home."
.
"What!?" Phichit yelled, making everyone in the rink turn their heads. He got super self-conscious suddenly and whipped both hands up in front of his mouth, but then glared at the Japanese skater who'd just said the most impossible thing, "I thought you just meant you were going home last night! Like, to our apartment!"
Yuri shook his head, keeping his eyes averted, "No...I'm..." He drew in a breath, "I'm going back to Japan. I need to figure things out on my own..."
Celestino had his arms crossed, but closed his eyes and nodded reluctantly, "I understand. But..."
The skaters both looked up at the man.
"...Wouldn't it be better to just keep training for now? Even if not for anything in particular...Worlds is right around the corner, and after that, it's off-season anyway. You could go on a vacation or something and come back refreshed."
"...I feel like that's all I've been doing." Yuri grumbled, becoming acutely aware of the 'vacation weight' where he'd hidden it under a big jacket and sweat-pants, "I'm sorry, Celestino...I... I think I need to call things off...and just go home. I'm obviously not meant for this." He started pushing past, wanting nothing more than to just run away.
"What do you think Viktor would do in this situation?" The coach suddenly asked, forcing Yuri to stop where he'd stepped and look back, aghast, "Do you think he'd just give up like this?"
The skater was just gaping, eyes wide and paralyzed. Celestino wasn't giving any ground though, returning the gaze with his own, though more stoic and persistent than anything else. He wanted an answer.
"...What...would Viktor do...?" Yuri finally said, echoing the question posed to him, "...How...would I even know that? He's never been in a situation like this. He's too good for that." His brow crinkled, and it seemed like something in him snapped, tears rolling down his cheeks as his voice rose, "Viktor's a thousand times better than I ever was! He's a five-time consecutive Grand Prix Champion, and by the end of the month, I bet he'll be a five-time consecutive WORLD Champion, too! How stupid was I to ever think I could be like him!? How arrogant was I to ever think I could skate at the same level as him, or even on the same ICE as him!? He's practically a God and I'm NOTHING." He ripped his jacket open, pulling his shirt up to 'show off' the results of his misery, "THIS IS ALL I AM. DEBU. DEBU DEBU. FATTY."
Everyone had stopped what they were doing by then, caught off guard by their former rink-mate's fit.
Yuri let his shirt and jacket go, but they didn't fall far, caught on his roundness and making him even more miserable. He just stood there angrily, clenching his fists at his sides, "I've been trying to catch up to him since I was a kid..." He said, trembling, "...All I ever wanted was for him to notice me...to see me as a competitor worth paying attention to... But all I am is a big, fat idiot who dreamed too much and accomplished too little..." He turned on his heel and started pulling his clothes back into place, zipping up the jacket to hide his shame, "...So...I'm going home now...to rethink my life..."
.
The sign above the doors was new again, reading 'HOME RINK, HOME RULES! THE GRAND PRIX FINAL IS OURS! GOOD LUCK SKATERS.'
The sound of the door being pulled open was like a nightmare, and Yuri went perfectly silent, feeling the air change all around him. Lights darkened compared to outside, and the sound of the rink echoed into his ears, bouncing off the inside of his skull like the murder-taunt of some terrible demon. Someone's music was playing in the arena, the bass bouncing off the walls. The petrified skater, still slung over his husband's shoulder like a sack of spuds, just put his hands over his glasses and covered his eyes, falling limp where he was and giving up the struggle.
Viktor huffed a triumphant laugh to himself, and pat his partner's back where he still held to it to keep him from sliding off, and followed after Phichit into a large, open room just outside the rink.
"Hey!" The Thai skater greeted the two people still putting their skates on at one of the many round, 4-person tables in front of the blur-rimmed, glass double-doors. Those two people saw the Russian coming and gaped, unable to form coherent thought, never mind words. Phichit wasted no time though, throwing open the doors and cupping his hands around his mouth to amplify the sound, "HEY EVERYONE! LOOK WHO I BROUGHT!"
Confused faces turned to face the exit, and even Celestino, sitting in the stands, glanced over, recognizing his student's voice. But, a moment later, Viktor stepped through those doors as well, and a garbled mess of shrieking, gasping, and whistling echoed across the ice. Blades started scratching across the white frost to get nearer to the newly-announced group.
Yuri could hear them coming, but up to that moment, no one had known he'd been the pair of legs hanging across the Russian legend's front. In a second mad panic, he flailed again, this time managing to get free and flopping to the ground like a fish that had mistakenly jumped into a boat. For lack of anywhere else to go, he clambered quickly under his husband's jacket, sitting behind the man's legs and pulling the heavy black fabric to hide his face.
Viktor just looked down behind himself and smiled nervously, but then turned back to the gathering group at the rink wall, and raised a hand, "Hiiii~!"
"I was wondering when you guys would get here." The Senior Coach said, waving as he came up, "Ciao Ciao~!"
"Celestino!" Phichit called back, waving excitedly, "Sorry it took so long! We ran into JJ at the Arena...then the roads were pretty bad..."
The ponytailed man just huffed a laugh, but then turned to the lump behind the Russian's legs, "...Yuri?"
Viktor smiled innocently, but within the tails of his coat, he could feel his partner shaking.
Murmurs rose within the group that was on the ice, joined by a few people who were approaching on rink-side. Even for the skater still hiding his face, it was becoming palpably claustrophobic.
"He got kind of nervous as we were coming inside." Phichit explained, leaning on the wall casually, "Thinks he isn't welcome anymore or something!" He said sarcastically, trying to inspire the crowd to show some support.
"Come out from under there, Yuri." Celestino suggested, picking up on it easily enough, "We're all friends here."
"Come out, Yuri!" Others started, "It's been 2 years since we last saw you in person!"
"Yuri!"
It went on like that for what felt like forever, but the anxious skater couldn't budge. The fabric of the jacket eventually slipped through his fingers though as Viktor stepped backwards over top of him, one careful leg passing a shoulder at a time, until the man was standing directly in front of him...and crouched down to one knee.
The silver legend took hold of those shaking, clenched hands, and brought them up tenderly, looking at his husband evenly, "Yuri...whatever bad you think happened in the past is forgiven and forgotten." He said quietly, giving the skater a warm smile to try and calm his nerves, "Come up and introduce me."
"Th-they know f-full well who you a-are..." The younger figure answered back, feeling a crushing sense of guilt looming over him.
"I don't mean that." Viktor pointed out, looking down slightly to where he held those trembling hands in his own, and the gold that gleamed off each of their right 4th fingers, "You said you couldn't wait to see the looks on peoples' faces when you got to tell all your old Detroit friends about what happened. Here's your chance! Let's get started!" He said excitedly.
Yuri was still somewhat perplexed, but seeing his partner looking so happy and hopeful gave him a growing feeling of calm. He nodded nervously, seeing that smile brighten as Viktor moved to stand up again, taking him up in turn by pulling on his hands. When he was finally upright again, he could hear the small crowd behind him starting to clap, and though his heart skipped a beat to hear it, a gentle hand on his shoulder helped ground him. The young skater finally turned on his heel, and raised his anxious eyes to the people ahead of him who, to his naïve surprise, looked rather pleased to see him there.
"H-Hey..." He managed, his voice a bit of a squeak compared to normal. Yuri raised his free hand and waved weakly, but then dropped it down again and held his fingers tightly together in front of himself, eyes going down again, "...T-There's a few new faces here...b-but...it seems like most everyone's here that was around wh-when I left..."
Phichit and Celestino exchanged glances, but then turned to focus on the terrified speaker again.
"I-I was...last here about 2 years ago..." Yuri went on, fidgeting slightly, as though all his old habits were trying to creep up inside him again, even with the Russian's arm around his back, "And the l-last thing...I said...or did, rather...was yell at everyone about how...I thought...I was less than nothing...especially compared to a certain legendary skater that I'd been trying to emulate..." He could feel the gentle stroke of a thumb through his coat, rubbing reassuringly against his shoulder where the rest of that hand held him close, "Two years ago...I ran home with my tail between my legs, thinking I'd never skate again, and not knowing what to do with myself. I'd been chasing the scratches left in the ice by my idol's skates, and left the sport thinking it had all been for nothing. But now..." He unclamped his fingers from where they'd been knotted together, and let his left hand slip between himself and his partner standing close by, "...Two years later...the very man I'd been trying to catch up to...well, he stopped for a minute and went back for me. He didn't have to, and for a long time I was worried he'd just give up and go home again...but he stuck by me. Through the best times, and the worst...through moments of incredible happiness, crippling anxiety, and self-doubt...he stuck by me. Everyone..." Yuri glanced between the crowd and his excited spouse, setting his free hand against the center of the man's chest and looking to the group again, feeling the excitement as well, "...I want to introduce my idol... My coach...my husband...my soul-mate...Viktor Nikiforov."