CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED FIFTY SIX
Though it had only actually been a little more than half a day since Yuri had last been on the ice, it had felt like much longer. Putting skates on and tying the laces, hearing the soft but heavy thunk of the blade-guards on the concrete floor as he went around the edge of the practice rink, even hearing the sound of other skaters on the ice already...for some reason, it all felt like such a distant memory, brought back to the surface by déjà vu.
"No jumps." Viktor's voice brought him back around, and Yuri turned his head to glance up at the slightly-taller figure, "Promise me."
"No jumps? At all?"
Blue eyes were serious, "You're not even 12 hours out of the hospital yet. I know you feel pretty much fine right now, but let's not tempt fate. Okay?"
Sullen, the younger skater agreed, "Fine..." He glanced around the practice rink, seeing a few familiar faces on the ice already, though they hadn't apparently noticed him in turn yet. He veered right as they came down through the enclosed stairwell from the upper level prep area, and passed in front of the huge one-way glass mural of the Stanley Cup.
Viktor watched the man go for a moment, but then slowly followed after, curious as to his intentions.
I don't remember anything from practice last night. Yuri thought to himself, squinting his eyes as he tried to see anything at all, even shadows, through the window, But I feel like I know where things are anyway.
Once at the end, he turned right again, immediately finding himself at the edge of the doorway that lead behind the mural. It looked like something of a gym, though the equipment had all been moved to one side to make room for the medic station and a few empty beds for potential patients. Of the few people manning it, none of them were known to the skater.
"Oh, you're one of the guys who got hurt yesterday." A voice came, drawing the athlete's attention, "By the look of you, you're not letting it get you down though."
Yuri glanced up and over his shoulder briefly as his partner draped himself across his back, arms going around his core lazily, but then turned to look at the man who'd spoken a moment before, seeing the hand pointing at his feet and the skates thereupon, "Ah...yeah. I mean, no. I'm not dropping out." He looked around the room again one last time before asking the obvious, "Is Celeste around?"
The medic shook his head, "Not yet. We switched some shifts around since she was out late dealing with you and the other guy. She'll be at the Short Program though."
"Oh, okay..." The skater was a little disappointed. He found himself unable to linger on it though, as he felt Viktor starting to pull him backwards out the doorway and back around the corner to the front side of the mirror-mural.
"We don't have all afternoon to mess around." The Russian pointed out, continuing to drag Yuri along as they went back towards the one open rink-wall doorway, blade-guards squeaking as they were pulled backwards, "The warm-up period will be over before we even set blades down if we don't hurry."
"Yuri!" Phichit's call could be heard clear across the rink; the excited Thai skater swiftly rounded the wall, waving excitedly as he glided along on the other side of the Plexiglas to the pair, following along until they all met at the open doorway.
Chris' blades scratched along the ice to get nearer as well, pausing just inside the gate, setting a hand up against the edge of it as the duo finally arrived, "Did you forget which side of the rink wall you're supposed to skate on?" He laughed.
"Of course not." Yuri answered dryly, "I was just looking for the medic who came out and helped me last night."
"Oh, you remember what happened now?"
"No...but I saw her at the hospital after I woke up. I know her from my Detroit days." He explained, standing upright on his own where Viktor had finally planted him. He quickly reached down to start pulling off the rubber blade-guards.
"Ah, yeah, she did kind of talk to you like she knew you somehow. She was pretty upfront." Chris huffed, but then gave a wry chuckle at his Russian rival, "I haven't seen Viktor's hackles rise up so fast."
"...Eh?" Yuri blinked at him, turning then to his husband, one hand placing the rubber bars on the outside lip of the wall, "What set you off...?"
The silver legend set a hand against the man's shoulder to lean on for balance as he pulled his own blade-guards off, but then shrugged as he stood upright again, "Not that it matters now, but at least at the time, I thought she was being kind of rude and intrusive. Giving you grief about how your last name was the same as mine, and how everything about you seemed delusional because she didn't know what happened."
"Oh...yeah." The younger figure realized, "I guess it would seem kind of insane for me to change my name if she didn't know that there was a valid reason for it. What ended up happening?"
"Viktor stood behind her like some angry shadow and listened for a minute...but then he was like, 'Who are you and why are you talking to my husband like that?'" Chris explained, making gestures in reenactment, "She backed down in a big hurry."
"Yikes..."
The Russian made a face, "I didn't like her tone." He insisted, "Yuri even hid his ring-hand behind his back like he was scared to let her see it."
"I did!?" The younger skater could hardly believe it, holding both hands against the sides of his head as he looked down in shock and shame. He hardly had time to linger on it though, as Chris snuck up behind him and pulled him out across the ice the exact same way Viktor had pulled him along in front of the mirror-mural a few moments prior, heel-picks scratching the surface as he went. The Swiss skater just laughed though, and Phichit went alongside them.
Viktor shook his head and laughed, setting his blade-guards on the wall just next to his partner's. Just as he was about to shrug out of his team jacket though, he caught sight of a pair of humanoid shapes out the corner of his eye. Turning, the coat still half-hanging to his shoulders, he spotted Yurio with Otabek coming out of the enclosed stairwell.
Yurio immediately turned his eyes away, though the Kazakh didn't immediately notice. It was only when the older Russian finally turned away, hanging his jacket up on the upper corner of the open doorway, that Otabek could feel the awkward tension between them. Viktor moved off without a word, blades scratching along the ice as he moved like smoke over water, going swiftly to 'save' his husband from the evil Swiss skater's clutches again.
"You've been acting weird." Otabek noted simply, "Did something happen after Cup of China?"
"Stuff always happens."
"You'll have to be a bit more specific. You're acting like you're not allowed to talk to them anymore." Otabek gazed over with those cool brown eyes, "Are you guys fighting again?"
"Again? What's that supposed to mean?" The younger teen shot back at him.
Blade-guards thunk'd against the floor, moving on towards the entrance, "You and Viktor were rink-mates for a long time, but you don't even hurl insults at him anymore. You act like you're strangers."
"I don't need him."
Otabek raised a brow, setting a hand on the edge of the doorway as he reached for the rubber on the bottom of his skates, "Is that the only reason you're friends with anyone? Because they can offer you something?"
Yurio was taken aback by the idea, "What? No way. I didn't mean it like that at all. I'm friends with you, aren't I? And I've never asked you for anything."
"Then how did you mean it?" The older skater stood back upright.
The Russian Punk's attention was briefly snatched by the sound of Viktor suddenly calling out to Yuri, chasing him across the ice like he was trying to grab him. The silver legend comically pleaded for the man not to try any jumps, while Yuri just kept moving away in reverse, teasing that he would anyway. A right leg went out behind him, feigning the toe-pick launch into a Flip, but Viktor just gave him a deathly 'you'd better not' glare, and Yuri set his foot down sheepishly.
Yurio blinked and shook his head, trying to regain his train of thought, "Things are just tense right now. A lot of stuff is going to be changing and not everyone is happy about it."
"Changing how?"
"I'm moving to Hasetsu full-time to train, but Viktor doesn't really want me there. He thinks I get into Katsudon's head too much."
The Kazakh gave a look, not sure what to make of the statement, "...How's that work, exactly?"
Yurio just gave a shrug, "Ask him. He's the one who gets jealous and paranoid over nothing."
Otabek just raised a brow, then turned to glance out across the ice, seeing the four skaters moving around one another like a flock of birds. For a moment, the brooding figure thought back on the few moments he'd seen either Viktor or Yuri prior to the Russian's sudden withdraw from competition, and considered the way they'd both evolved since then. It was a difficult task though, given how he'd never really interacted with anyone unless he absolutely had to. However, the poignant memory of Viktor's roof-top melt-down in Shanghai was testament to the younger teen's truth.
.
"What's gotten into him?" Yuri wondered quietly, leaning towards Minako, "Why's he standing on the other side of the railing like that?"
"I dunno," The woman started, turning her head and holding the cardigan up a little higher, "He was all happy-go-lucky when we started, and then he suddenly got worried about you. He started blaming himself for your Short Program and then came up with all these doomsday scenarios where he thinks you're going to leave him, and fire him as your coach. Currently he thinks you're going to divorce him to marry Yuratchka instead."
"...What?" Both Yuris asked in tandem, one more in disbelief while the other was more awkwardly embarrassed.
Otabek chortled, but then held his hand over his mouth as he coughed to try and dispel the stunned laugh, clearing his throat.
.
"Okay." The older skater mounted his blade-guards along the outer lip of the wall like the others had and quickly toed-off to join them on the ice, leaving a confused Yurio behind.
"Wh-what!? I didn't mean literally! OTABEK!" The blonde barked, but it was too late. Otabek was already halfway across the rink by then, and by the time the Russian Tiger had his own blade-guards off and stowed, it was pointless to try and catch up. The Kazakhstani skater was already in the midst of the flock, giving his greetings to Yuri. The teen could hardly believe it; though it was impossible to hear what any of them were really saying, he could only dread that Otabek was actually asking them all what the conflict was. The Japanese skater just seemed to gesture towards his head though, raising up his bangs a bit as Chris and Phichit came closer as well, all of them getting their first clear look at the cut that vanished beyond his hairline. Yurio just seethed, pushing out onto the ice bitterly, and keeping to his own side of the rink.
From the above-rink observation club, coaches, choreographers, and sponsors alike were mingling amongst one another while the practice took place below. Most were waiting for the 30 minute warm-up period to tick by before heading down the rink-side for their specific athlete's SP run-through. A certain pair of grey-green eyes was watching the rink intently though, separate from the rest of the crowd and standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows.
"He's going to be trouble, papa." Nikki's voice spoke softly, watching the rink as well, but sitting in one of the plush chairs nearby instead of standing, "He can't even play nice with the people he competes against."
Mikhail hummed to himself quietly in sullen agreement, "This schism between him and Viktor is making too many waves."
"Cousin Viktor wasn't the one that yelled at him in the van." The young teen pointed out.
"No, but the problem stems out from them specifically. Viktor's extremely protective of Yuri. His distrust and skepticism of Yura goes back quite a ways, and it's boiled over a couple times already this season. But...Yura's also too proud to apologize, or even to forgive, so this'll just keep going on until someone else steps in." The elder Russian shifted his weight from one foot to the other, "He's going to start getting tired of me if I keep being the one to do so."
"Were these guys ever actually friendly with each other? It sounds like Yuri's tried, but Yura keeps mucking it up somehow."
"It was Yuri's idea that I be Yura's sponsor in the first place. ...I wish I could understand why Yura keeps taking two steps forward, only to take twenty steps back. He does so well and then he just trips all over himself and causes a big scene."
Nikki gave him a flat look, "And this is the guy that's supposed to come live with us...?"
Mikhail drew in a sharp breath, but then turned and leaned down over the back of the seat, holding himself up with his hands on the head-rest, "He has the capacity to be a good kid. I've seen it. He just has this weird outlook where it seems like he thinks people abandon him all the time. First it was Viktor, when he left Russia to coach Yuri in Japan. Then Yuri became his friend, and they were pretty close, but then Yuri backed off a bit because Yura wasn't in crisis anymore. The way Yura's sticking to his own side of the rink now, I'm worried he might be thinking Beka's about to leave him behind, too."
"Beka?"
"The guy that joined the group last. Yura looks up to him, thinks he's a badass and all that. He told me once about how Beka saved him from a crazy group of fangirls at last year's Final by riding up on a motorcycle and whisking him off to safety." Mikhail explained, recalling all the stories, "He even launched himself at my car back in Moscow, begging to go to Shanghai because Beka was skating against Yuri there."
"A crazy group of fangirls, huh?" Nikki put a finger on her lip, looking down at the ice, and at the lonesome blonde keeping to himself, "The way he acts, I'm surprised he has any fans at all."
"They only see what he's like during performances. Yura tries to avoid them as much as possible when they find him at events."
The teen just gave an exasperated sigh, "Does he like anyone? It seems to me like he avoids and deflects from every kind of social situation. He's weird."
"That's one of the reasons why I suggested he come stay with us, sweetie." Mikhail pointed out, "Yura needs some kind of stability in his life, to be surrounded by people who aren't just going to give up on him because he's difficult. Even Viktor doesn't want to give up on him, but Yura has this annoying habit of treating the people he likes the same way he treats people he doesn't like."
"That doesn't make any sense."
"It does when you think everyone's two minutes away from betraying you all the time. Plus, he grew up in a really competitive environment. Every minute of his life, from the moment he could stand, has been on the ice. If he wasn't the best, he couldn't support himself or his family. If he didn't think of everyone else as the enemy, someone to be crushed and defeated, he'd never be able to motivate himself enough to climb to the top. He made history last year by winning Gold at the Final during his Senior debut. But at some point..." The Russian turned his eyes back out towards the ice as well, "...He's going to have to learn that he can still be friendly with the people he's competing against. Viktor has trounced every single person in that rink, but he's still on good terms with them."
"Well, if Yura's going to be living with us, then that means he's not responsible for anyone anymore, right?" Nikki wondered, "So he can stop worrying about all the stuff he used to, because he'll be fine even if he doesn't win."
"You'd think."
The silver teen just huffed to herself in annoyance at the whole thing, "I don't think I've ever known someone so on-edge like him. Do you think what Yuri and I said in the van had any lasting impact?"
"It's hard to know. He has this mortal fear of looking weak or admitting fault in front of people." Mikhail said, pushing back up to stand again, "I think Yuri's the only person he's ever opened up to, really. I'm honestly worried that if those two don't make up somehow, it's never going to get better."
"So why don't we just pull them aside again later?"
"I want to...but we have to tread carefully on this one." The elder pointed out, moving off towards the stairwell that lead down to the lower level, "If Yura pushes back too hard and upsets Yuri too much, Viktor's going to put an end to it all himself. If it comes to that, I'm not sure I'll be able to stop it. Viktor has as much a right to protect his own family as anyone else does, and he's been extremely patient with all this stuff." He paused at the top of the stairs, one hand on the railing as the other came up to his lip, "...Come to think of it, all this time I've spent worrying about the two Yuris, I've yet to actually talk to my nephew about his perspective. Maybe I should talk to him first."
"...I can talk to Yura." The young teen offered, hopping up to follow after her father.
"...You want to?" Mikhail was a bit surprised, glancing back at her.
She nodded, though hesitantly, "I've played peace-maker between Vikki and Sergio. Maybe I can help."
The elder was somewhat skeptical, "...Ehhh..."
"Let me try!"
"Are you sure about that? You saw how they went at one another like cats and dogs..."
Nikki nodded again, this time more confident than before, "He didn't yell at me when I jumped in before."
"...Alright...but stay in my sights. If he tries to walk off, just let him. This is a pretty big place, and Detroit can be kind of dangerous, even without Russian Tigers skulking about."