(Author's Note: This chapter would work well in combination-format if it were animated or otherwise in artwork form, but since it's not, I'm going to split it into two sections. One for Yuri and Viktor's part, and the other for the show, since they're happening at the same time. I just think it'd be too much to have both scenes overlap each other in writing...music/lyrics + choreography + Asahi's thoughts, and a totally unrelated conversation off-ice.)

CHAPTER THREE HUNDRED NINETY FIVE

Everything beyond the rink-wall was plunged into black, illuminated only occasionally by the passing color of the spotlights roaming overhead. Music thundered to life overhead, rattling the arena with the sound of heavy drums. In the middle of the frost-laden stage, Asahi's frame came to life, arcing and weaving out from center in ever-widening circles, changing directions along his path or spinning quickly, as each procession of drum-beats hurtled the song forward.

Viktor watched sullenly, arms crossed as he leaned his back against the wall under the stands. In the dark, he could clearly see his husband's silhouette against the lights on the ice...but, that meant the man was standing in front of him at a distance, rather than within arm's reach. He sighed quietly, feeling his brow crinkle above his eyes, as though a weight had come down over them.

Why is it so hard for him to see how much this bothers me...? He's pushing me off like I'm just some grey and ominous cloud, raining on his otherwise-sunny day.

It felt like half the song had gone by before Yuri even registered that he was standing alone, save for where he held Jiro against his shoulder. He glanced around, having a bit of difficulty seeing beyond himself after having been focused on the lights on the ice. His eyes gradually adjusted though, and he spotted his partner a ways behind him, and down the length of the wall. Making a face, Yuri backed up carefully, hoping he wouldn't trip over anything unseen on the ground, and slid his back down the wall to shimmy up next to the Russian, "How come you're all the way over here?"

Viktor didn't change where he looked, eyes staying forward on the show going on in the rink, "This is where I've been the whole time. You're the one who moved."

"Oh..." Yuri looked aside sheepishly, "I guess I didn't notice since the lights are out."

A strange void of words followed, hollow and yet deafening in its own way.

The younger figure chances a glance towards his spouse's shade, "...Why are you so distant suddenly?"

The Russian shrugged his arms up slightly and shifted a few more inches down the wall, "I'm a third wheel to you right now. I wouldn't want to get in the way."

"...Eh?" Yuri narrowed one eye in confusion, "What are you talking about?"

Viktor didn't want to justify the question with an answer. He kept his bangs between his line-of-sight and his partner beyond it.

"...You can't just say something like that and then not explain." Yuri pointed out, hugging Jiro a bit closer in the man's absence.

One eye turned towards him in the dim light, but it wasn't giving a friendly look, "How is it possible that you're so emotionally invested in all the people in your life, but you let yourself become so completely blind to me in the middle of it all?" Viktor asked pointedly, "I thought I was your husband, not him." He nudged his head out towards the skater in the rink.

Yuri grimaced, "...I don't know why you feel that way."

That one slate eye clenched shut as Viktor turned his face away again, gritting his teeth in frustration, "...I'm used to people dismissing me, because they think my being famous somehow means I get everything I want in the end. Yakov, Yurio, him..." He gestured out to the performer in the rink, "...And my Uncle most of all... I didn't think I'd have to worry about you disregarding my feelings, too. It's like you don't even care."

Yuri's heart sank, but he didn't know how to answer. He could hear the despair in Viktor's voice, and could only imagine the tears already in his eyes, though he didn't have the courage to look.

"Time and time again, you put me on the back-burner in favor of others..." The silver figure went on, "And I've...I've told you...so many times how much it upsets me that you're willing to sacrifice yourself in order to make other people happy... But I never thought that meant you'd start to sacrifice me instead." He reached up one hand to rub his eye on the inside of his wrist, "Least not for the sake of someone who attacked you, and made you feel so bad because of it."

Still at a loss for words, Yuri lowered his head.

"...You were supposed to be mine..." Viktor said with finality, holding out that same arm with the gold ring upon his finger, "That's why you took my name, isn't it?"

Yuri nodded where he stood, though he wasn't that sure if it was visible in the dark.

"...Why don't you say something...?"

"...I..." He stammered, feeling a cut on his voice, "...I don't know what to say. I've been lost since you said you felt like a third wheel. How is that...even possible? I do everything with you...he's the one that turns up sometimes."

"Just because we're always around each other doesn't mean we're always mentally available...at least, not you." Viktor explained sadly, turning his eyes away again, seeing the show but not really watching it, "You've gotten so invested in Saito's redemption that it's like you have no room in your heart for anything else right now...me least of all... I've become optional to you..."

"...Viktor..."

"Has this past year just been too hard...?" The Russian wondered desperately, "Have you finally reached your limit...? Did everything with Saito resolve so fast that it's more attractive than returning to the problems I still carry...?"

"What!? No...! Never!" Yuri answered quickly, his voice pleading, "I just... Most of why I reacted so badly to what Asahi did was because of how scared I was for how you would react to finding out...! I was terrified that you'd say I cheated, or that I didn't try hard enough to avoid him like you said I should...or that you'd even accuse me of setting us both up for it on purpose, like I knew he'd try something and consciously allowed it, and betrayed my vows in the process..."

Viktor stayed quiet that time, only moving slightly to rub his eyes again.

"...But then you didn't... You worked so hard to help me get through all of it, listening to me without judging me, or making me feel like it was my fault, even though I was convinced it was..." Yuri went on, barely able to hold it together but for the cold wet nuzzles he felt on his cheek from Jiro's nose, "If you hadn't been so understanding and sympathetic...I'd be a mess for months... But thanks to you, and everything I've learned from you since you first turned up...I was able to bounce back, and clear my head for the things I normally think about..." Yuri lifted his face, trying to find his partner in the dark, "I mean, you walked away from me once because I was so cold to others... You told me, 'how does someone motivate himself when he can't even motivate others?' I took that to heart! Now I want to motivate others! This thing with Asahi...even though what he did was so stupid...after everything else we've both learned about him since it happened, I don't feel like I have the right to hold it against him... I feel like he was just desperately reaching out to someone, asking for help in all the wrong ways, and now that things are clear between us all, I want to help him... But you're just..."

"I'm just what." Viktor asked stiffly.

Yuri cringed slightly and looked away, "You're so hostile towards him still, but then you're so civil, even motivating sometimes... I'm so confused... I don't know why you keep jumping back and forth. It's like you can't decide if you hate him or not."

The silver Russian pinched the bridge of his nose, "I don't hate him." He answered simply, "I resent how much of your time and mental energy has been put towards him. This entire weekend has been about him since almost the minute we got here. Even our trip to USO was marred by the shadow he cast over us. And now I just feel like you're bringing the shadow home with us...asking him to take the train with us, then inviting him to Yu-Topia, a place you admit you never invited him to before... And now you want to go to Wakkanai with him? What next, you'll offer to let him live with us so he can get out of Imari faster?"

"What!? No!"

"Then take it down a notch!" Viktor argued, his eyes still a bit misty, "You've already done plenty to help him! More than he was ever entitled to and way more than he ever expected anyway!"

"...Okay...! I'm sorry!"

"Sorry isn't enough!" He went on, crossing his arms tighter over himself, "It's just like I told him! How can I know you mean it when it keeps happening!?"

The younger figure fell quiet again, a worried look cast over his face.

"...I need you, Yuri." Viktor admitted bitterly, "But putting all of my emotional needs aside for so long, only to call me Captain Crankypants like my attitude is somehow unjustified... " Viktor echoed bitterly, "I don't think I've been so angry in such a hurry in a long time..."

"...I didn't mean it like that..."

The audience abruptly sent out a roar of applause, drowning out anything else that might've been said. The music was over, and when Yuri looked back over his shoulder to the ice, he saw Asahi down on his knees in the middle of the rink, sobbing.

.

Asahi rubbed his eyes as he rose back up to his feet, and finally took his starting pose despite the anxiety building inside him. He lowered his eyes towards the ice, seeing Riku still superimposed over his reflection directly under him, and waited for the music.

['I (Just) Died in Your Arms' - Hidden Citizens remix (Orig. Cutting Crew)]

The song thundered to life, practically shaking the foundations of the arena with the intensity of the drums. He swiveled and turned in place, gradually drawing a white line in the ice as he made an ever-widening spiral away from center. With each few seconds that passed, and the trill of smaller drums that echoed with the larger, Asahi made a deliberate twist, hop, or direction-change before moving on to the next.

Oh I... I just died in your arms tonight
It must have been something you said
I just died in your arms tonight

As the first line of a woman's voice resonated, the skater glided forward easily, raising one arm up above himself, then brought both out to the side and around himself, flipping around backwards before leaning into crossovers as he rounded the short end of the rink. Coming out the other end, he kept his arms hugged in place, and descended to both of his knees, forcing himself into a slow rotation as the momentum of his glide pulled him several yards across the ice.

I keep looking for something I can't get
Broken hearts lie all around me
And I don't see an easy way to get out of this

He turned his head to glance around the rink, and lowered his palms to the frost, seeing the glossy, blurred visage of his partner's ghost within the clearer parts. Hands pawed around for a moment before reaching out towards the dark. As his hands came back up, he reached for the rafters, and leaned up, then back until collapsing down to the frost. Legs kicked up and hard, forcing him into a backspin until he set his hands down onto the ice again and forced the momentum to lift himself, setting those blades down with his legs in a V-shape, still rotating, until it became a bent-forward inside spread-eagle, and he could use it to stand again.

Though he did his best not to think about it, he couldn't help but see wreckage in the rink. His new path cut through the debris and fire like he was somehow skating through the accident that had claimed his partner's life.

I've lost and found, it's my final mistake
Loving by proxy, no give and all take
'Cause I've been thrilled to fantasy one too many times

Asahi shook the imagery out of his head, and the ice looked normal again...though he saw that the glow of those flames still shimmered under the ice. It was a completely inverted world down there, showing the highway, the other cars, the people who were running around...and in the center of the rink, and the center of the road, was his own reflection, separate from himself, rocking back and forth with a figure cradled against him.

The pain in his chest hit like a sledge-hammer, and all the fear and agony of those minutes poured through him, fresh like they'd been on that day. He knew Riku was gone already. The echo of his own cries gave that much away. Beneath his own feet, reflected in the ice, he could see the spectral glow of Riku's shade, as though the man had drifted around the accident for a while; lingering, watching...wondering.

I... I just died in your arms tonight
It must've been something you said
I just died in your arms tonight

The tears were hot and stung his eyes, but Asahi did his best to continue on; the music calmed from the clamor of a moment before, leading with a single piano-key as the woman's voice softly returned.

Even so, as she began anew, Asahi kicked off from his reverse glide for his signature quad Lutz, triple Loop, and twisted over for a long outside spread eagle as he landed. His blades stayed spread as the line continued, and he leaned forward and back through a serpentine pattern, until the stanza ended and he threw himself into a triple Axel. The next lyric went by quickly, giving him only enough time to twist and gesture with his arms before the third began, and Asahi lowered down to glide backward on his right skate for a slow hydroblade.

Ohhh...
I...I just died in your arms tonight
It must've been some kind of kiss
I should've walked away

The program was becoming harder with every second, and each word poured into him like molten lead, burning and destroying everything it touched. It reached his heart and it hurt with such ferocity that it felt like it would burst.

He slid forward though, dragging a toe-pick behind himself to slow down, and he came to a stop in the first quarter of the rink, right arm reaching further than the left before he brought them both down with a pained bow. He barely had the strength to lift himself back up again, fingers inching for the toes of his boots as he circled in place before arcing away again, only to come up again and cover over his mouth as he leaned fully upright. The calm of the last line was maneuvered with a few sweeping kicks, dragging a blade across the ice before setting it down in front to switch off...only to brake hard on the drawn-out last line, the intensity of the singer's voice picking up. With the last bit of speed from before the brake, he immediately twisted with all his strength, pushing his body into a brief scratch spin, raising his arms until they were reaching up directly above himself. He suddenly kicked a toe-pick down though and came to an abrupt stop just as the music cut out as well, one arm raised above himself, only for the sound to boom back loudly.

I should've walked away

He held still for the line, and stomped his right skate down twice on the return of the drums before quickly moving forward again.

The pain in his chest became a pain of anger and rage; the reflections of fire and shrapnel under the ice were gone. It was just black down there now, like an endless void, with nothing to give away the rink but the white scratches he himself left in its surface. As the drums hammered all around him, the reflections of those he'd known from Tokyo faded into sight, their images shaking with the thunder of the song. He knew the words they all said; the kindness they'd meant to give that only fell on deaf ears, because of their ignorance to the truth of the loss they spoke of. There were so many of them, they became faceless golems with empty words, and emptier platitudes.

Asahi's skating became more like a fight; the fury of his silence thrashing around inside him like an enraged animal, desperate to be uncaged. He dipped low and sent a flurry of ice up in a circle around himself, then rose up again, only to kick hard in one place and brake hard in another, whipping up more shards of frost before he took off in another direction again.

I should've walked away

The beat of the drums and horns intensified; Asahi cracked his boots against the ice, leaving deep gouges in his wake, but not caring one bit. Every molecule of wrath that he'd locked up under the lies and secrets, it was all coming out; every kick was harder, every jump was higher. It went on like that throughout his rage-sequence, calming only slightly as the chorus tapered down, ready for the grand finale.

I... I just died in your arms tonight
It must've been something you said
I just died in your arms tonight

In a long, backward glide, Asahi readied for another quad Lutz, digging deep and kicking up chunks of the rink as he toe-picked down for the jump. His blades were like talons, raking the frost on the landing, and tore off down the long-side of the wall like a madman unleashed. He eventually arced back towards the middle again, and threw himself into a flying camel spin, morphing swiftly through a number of variants and sit spins.

Tonight

He kicked hard and switched feet with a jump, continuing the spin as he rose back up for the swift scratch-spin finish. His arms came up, curved around his core as they rose, the drums banging above him until he was a thin and spinning blur under the red lights.

The music cut out to nearly silence, and Asahi spread his arms out far to the side, his spin slowing considerably in a hurry, and he stopped, facing one short end of the arena with his head bent down. It was hard to breathe then, as the pain of the whole performance, and all those memories, settled inside him like lead weights hooked into his flesh. The low rumble of a few more notes echoed around him, and he slid forward gently, arms coming down as his body dared to quit on those final strokes.

By the time it was finally over, he could feel the scream at the back of his throat, even as a few tears clung to his eyes. He barely heard the audience...all that came to his ears was the quiet scratching of someone else's skates.

"...That was fantastic." Riku said, coming to a stop directly behind him, clapping slowly, "For a show you haven't done in two years, and never really perfected... It's one Hell of a send-off, right?"

Asahi reluctantly turned around. The figure before him was no longer just an overcast of his own reflection in something...it was the full figure of his partner; pale and spectral, wisps of light and dust wafting gently like steam, "...I...don't want it to be...the end..." He said, his voice barely a croak under the murderous pain in his throat.

"It's time to say goodbye."

"No..."

"You can't put it off anymore." Riku insisted, sliding closer on one blade. Ghostly hands went to each cheek as he came within reach, and those colorless eyes looked up, "This is it, Asahi."

"No, please no..." He begged, hands going right through the fog of his partner's ethereal frame, "Don't make me do this again, please..."

"It won't be the same." The younger figure reassured, "This time it'll be okay. You've told people. Someone knows."

Asahi couldn't form words anymore; his vocabulary was gone. All he had left was his agony. He could see where the kiss came, but it tortured him that he couldn't feel it...just the whisper of a cold feeling against his skin. The chill faded as Riku pulled away again, gliding slowly backwards then, as though pulled by an unseen force. Asahi reached, but his blades were stuck in place, held down by the same weights he'd felt clinging to his frame before, "No, Riku...RIKU...!"

"I loved you. Don't ever forget..."

"NO! NOOO!"

The spectral image was gone then, faded into the dark, leaving Asahi utterly alone. He couldn't even blink; his eyes were wide and stuck, until the tears came back, rolling down his face like they'd never done before. He dropped to his knees, limp and dead, and brought his hands up to cover his face before he screamed into them.

Still, the audience cheered, completely oblivious to what he'd seen.

Yuri watched nervously from his place on the other side of the rink-wall. He could tell what was going on, but his own partner's words kept his feet glued to the concrete beneath his blade-guards. He sighed quietly to himself, only to suddenly become aware of the people standing not too far away; Nagisa and Webber, realizing what their athlete had done, and vaguely understanding why he wasn't coming back right away.

Viktor watched the skater as well, knowing all too well what that posture meant. Eyes went from the one in the rink to the one standing just in front of him, and the silver Russian opened his mouth as though to say something anew.

"Yuri, you still have skates on still...could you-" Coach Nagisa started, only for Viktor to get between them and cut her off.

"No." He said, interrupting the idea, and his own, "I'll get him."

"Viktor..." Yuri said quietly, stunned, "...But...why?"

The Russian stepped carefully towards the ice, setting the toes of his leather shoes over the cold before pausing to turn back. He gave a studious look at his partner, "Because in spite of everything else I said, I don't hold his grief against him...and I don't want him to suffer needlessly. It's probably the one thing in this whole situation that I can completely agree with you on."

Yuri watched nervously as his spouse stepped carefully out onto the ice, still slightly limping on that tender right ankle, though holding his own with the aid of the brace. The audience simmered down quite a bit as they, too, watched the silver legend, all done-up in coaching gear instead of a performance ensemble, walked into the middle of the rink, one purposeful step at a time. By the time the man made it, everyone was watching with baited breath, many wondering if Asahi's persistence on his knees had been related to the outburst they'd heard about online. Wondering was all they could do, though.

Viktor gently set one hand on the skater's back as he got close, bending down slightly with his other hand braced against a knee to hold him up, "...Hey..."

Asahi glanced up reluctantly, eyes swollen and red, and full of tears. He couldn't see much of anything beyond the blur of colors and bubbled shapes, though he recognized the Russian's voice as easily as his own, "...S-Senpai..."

"Can you stand?"

It took some effort, and a bit of help, but within a few moments, he was on his blades again, shuffling back towards the exit with one hand perched on the legend's shoulder for guidance. The audience cheered again as he made it safely to rink-side.

Yuri watched quietly, trying to piece everything together. He lowered his gaze though and drew a pained breath, I really did go too far with this one... I got carried away and neglected Viktor despite how much support he gave to me... How do I even make up for this now...? How do I make him feel better when I don't even feel so good anymore...?

Viktor exchanged a few words with Coach Nagisa as Asahi tried to bury himself under his jacket and scarf again, going incognito like he'd done in public to avoid scrutiny and recognition. No words needed to be said for them to know the man wanted to get away from the noise of the arena, and the group followed after him like a small and confused procession.

Yuri kept his eyes down though, looking more at Jiro and the floor than anything else. He could sense Viktor's presence next to him, but he didn't dare reach like he would normally, My worst fear before was that Viktor would think I betrayed him by 'letting' the kiss happen, even though I didn't...now it just feels like I betrayed him with everything that happened after... I don't know what to do...