CHAPTER THREE HUNDRED NINETY EIGHT
There was barely a heartbeat worth of time that passed between Yuri's exit from the ice, and the switching of the lights for the last act of the night before closing ceremonies. Blue and purple in the rink switched to white, surrounded by a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes that swirled around center and over the audience. The entire arena could be seen again. Cheering lingered from the end of Yuri's performance, dulled to a welcome-level applause as a carpet was rolled out from the other side of the arena by a small gaggle of event-staffers. A nationalistic, parade-like song played out overhead as the JSF elites started walking out towards the center of the rink.
Yuri kept his face down, too overwhelmed by everything to be able to lift his eyes and look outward. Instead, he pulled his hands back from the coat he'd been clinging to and slipped them within it instead, fingers grasping for the cotton sweater within. He managed to avoid complete collapse, but that didn't stop the periodic quake of hiccupped breaths.
Viktor carefully pulled the edges of his coat around the younger figure's back, and replaced where his arms had been around him. Fingers wove back through raven hair, his thumb rubbing slowly back and forth there near one ear.
So much to say, and absolutely no time to say it... Yuri's found so much strength in spite of everything, that it was enough for me to forget for a minute how fragile he can be, too. I should never have put those words out in the open...it was selfish and cruel of me...
Quietly, Asahi glanced over at the pair, his own eyes still swollen and red from his own sorrows earlier on. He sighed a bit under his breath, feeling the cold air catch in his throat as he tried to inhale again, and pulled his coat closer around his frame as he looked out to the announcers.
I can't help but feel like their troubles now are mostly my fault... He thought, eyes lowering slightly to the edge of the rink wall, If I hadn't been in such denial about Riku, I might never have interfered with Yuri like I did... What a mess I've made...
The tension at rink-side was in sharp contrast to the excitement all around the arena, though as a microphone was taken, the cheers died down to a whisper so the words could be heard. JSF President Keiko Hashimoto had a mic in her hand, looking as noble as she had the day she'd presented the Olympic jackets to the Nikiforovs at Yu-Topia. After a few more seconds, she raised the mic up, and spoke simply, [Thank you everyone, for your kindness and support to all the athletes who came here to Osaka this weekend, to skate their all for these Japanese National Championships.]
Yuri turned his head slightly, but dared not lift it away from where he felt the warmth of his partner's neck against his skin. Viktor seemed to notice, and turned them slightly where he stood so Yuri could see out into the rink without having to move much.
[On behalf of the JSF, I offer my heartfelt congratulations to all of our medalists, and my utmost gratitude to everyone who was brave enough to compete.] The President went on, [But it seems like we are still one member short of the full Olympic team.]
More applause answered her words, and the atmosphere at rink-side shifted slightly...at least, for those whose fate might still be impacted by the announcement. Many of the top Ladies Singles skaters had come out to join the Mens who were already there, each of them practically biting their nails with anxiety.
[It has taken us all last night and this morning to come to a decision about the final member of Team Japan, whom we will be sending to PyeongChang in just over 6 weeks.] President Hashimoto continued, taking one small step forward on the velvet carpet, getting nearly to the edge, [There were many things we deliberated upon...not merely the scores we saw at this weekend's competition, but the history of each prospective skater, and their continued potential for growth. But with all of those considerations, we were required to narrow down our selection to one athlete...a single skater from either the Men's or the Ladies' brackets. At this hour, we would like to reveal our selection...]
Asahi couldn't manage the nerve to be anxious. Everything else about the entire day weighed heavily on him already. He could hear the murmur and chatter behind himself from the young women hopefuls. Oddly...as he turned his eyes from the President, over to the struggling couple next to him, and out again...his gut seemed to roil on itself, like a painful knot. No longer the butterflies of nervous excitement...but the molten lead ball of dread. The words being spoken overhead seemed to fade away, as though he'd been plunged under a raging torrent of water...the sound of waves breaking above his head morphing into words he'd heard before.
'How the HELL do you expect to prove to me how sorry you are IF YOU LEAVE SKATING?'
'You're GOING to get picked for PyeongChang, and you're GOING to go to South Korea in February. And so help you, you'd better skate like you've never DREAMED you could. You skate like your life and love DEPENDS ON IT...you struggle, and you FIGHT... You prove to the entire WORLD the kind of man Riku thought you were.'
Clapping was all around, and Asahi blinked his sore, red eyes, returning to the moment. On instinct, he just started clapping as well, and side-stepped to get out of the way, assuming one of the female skaters behind him would be needing to get through to the ice. He felt hands on his shoulders though, and a gentle push forward, though he put the brakes on just as soon as he felt it and barely moved a single step forward before he looked back.
His coach was there, and Webber behind her, each of them looking at him as though he was embarrassing them somehow. Another soft nudge, and Nagisa gestured her head out towards the ice, "What are you waiting for!? Go out there!"
"...Huh?"
"Weren't you paying attention?"
"...I...zoned out. Who did they call?"
"YOU! GO!"
Still disbelieving, Asahi turned towards Viktor, as though only the skating legend himself could possibly make sense of it all.
"Congrats," The Russian managed, though in the moment, it was all he could think of to say. Yuri snuffled a breath and those slate eyes were looking down again.
Asahi swallowed his nerves and nodded, though was still unsure of it all. He stepped closer to the rink-wall and leaned to pull off the blade-guards under his feet, This must be some joke. As soon as I step out there, people are going to yell at me and tell me to go back.
One toe-pick touched down to the frost though, and a spotlight found him. Instead of the jeering and taunts of being arrogant though, there was cheering. The perplexed skater could hardly shift his mindset...he could barely muster the focus to stand, let alone participate in any kind of ceremony. Still though, as soon as he blinked, he was already standing in front of the JSF leadership, and the President was holding out a folded white jacket towards him.
[Represent Japan with all your heart at the Winter Games, Saito Asahi-san.] She said, her words echoing all around the stadium, [The hopes and dreams of the Japanese people are riding on the shoulders of you, Yuri, and Viktor now. Wear this jacket with pride and keep your head held high.]
[...Y-yes, ma'am.] He uttered reluctantly, accepting the jacket, and bowing his frame forward even as the pair of them held it together, [Thank you for trusting in me.]
The audience burst into cheering again as the jacket was passed on, and both figures stood upright again. Asahi couldn't take his eyes off the folded bundle, looking at the light grey hash-marks that decorated it, the gradiented red-to-white line with [JAPAN] written in English letters beside. It was surreal.
...This is what I was hoping for by coming here, wasn't it? He wondered, the clapping turning to a rush of moving water again, then quieting to the tranquility of Imari Bay, It was never just about using Nationals to earn my way back to international competition...it was on the hope of getting to go to the international competition... I just... He cringed slightly, ...It feels like the only way I can be at peace with this is knowing that Yuri already had his jacket before I got here. If I'd stolen this from him, too...
His thoughts were cut off suddenly as music blared loudly from above, startling him into breaking his trance on the coat.
['Last Moment' - SPYAIR]
Shougai kimi ni totte, ore wa donna ore de ireru darou?
(In my life as a whole, what kind of person do you see me as?)
Asahi quickly unfolded the jacket and slipped it over his arms in place of the black and teal Team Japan jacket he'd been wearing before. Lights dimmed all around. The JSF management were already gone, and the carpet had been rolled away...somehow, all without his notice.
Te wo nigitte, yume wo katatte
(Holding your hand, talking about the dream)
Nemuru sono isshun, de ii, kimi no...mirai de itai...
(Even if just for that moment while we sleep, I want...to be your future...)
Na na nana na nanana nanana na na nanana...yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah!
The rest of the Exhibition's skaters were filtering onto the ice from their singular entrance, keeping close around the rink-wall as they moved along to make sure there was room for everyone. Viktor lifted his head as the lights dimmed again, bringing one hand back over his partner's shoulder to rub a thumb against one cheek, hoping to see those eyes, "Time to go back out."
Hesitantly, Yuri unclamped his fingers from the sweater he'd attached himself to, though he kept his head down a little while longer.
"I know I can't go out there with you, so skate for the both of us a little while longer, okay?"
That earned a reluctant nod. Arms felt like stiff branches, but Yuri pulled them back to hang at his own sides again, pawing for the Russian's right hand as they went though. For a moment, he pressed the ring to his lips.
Viktor could feel the warmth and wet of a few stray tears as that strained face was bent down over his fingers, "...Yuri..."
The younger figure shook his head slightly, but then pulled away, stepping a toe-pick back out onto the ice without so much as a glance as he went. He held onto that hand in spite of it though, trying to rub his eyes on the half-glove that covered his other wrist, "...I don't want you to leave me...and yet, now, I have to leave you. I hate everything about this..."
Viktor was taken aback by the words, "I'm not going to leave. ...There's a lot more that I want to say, but...this isn't a good place. Everything's going to be okay though. Please don't be so worried..."
Another reluctant nod followed, but Yuri still wouldn't look up. He just kissed the ring again before stepping off, gliding away close to the rink-wall, doing his best to pretend nothing was wrong as that almost-nauseatingly enthusiastic music played overhead.
.
The shuttle ride back to the hotel was quiet in its noisiness. Yuri kept his ear-plugs in, not even listening to music as he watched the snowy roadway fly by, street-lights flashing overhead as the van drove under them. Jiro was passed-out cold across both available laps. Even the feeling of the pup's warm, fuzzy body lying directly on top of clasped hands was of little comfort in that moment.
'Sorry isn't enough! How can I know you mean it when it keeps happening!?'
'...You were supposed to be mine. That's why you took my name, isn't it?'
'It's like you don't even care.'
Yuri tipped his head to press it against the glass, shoulder set on the inner wall of the shuttle.
I've given him all of me; heart, body, mind, and soul... I thought I was enough...to fulfill him and make him happy, but all I do is make him miserable. He was happy before me...wasn't he?
'Has this past year just been too hard? Have you finally reached your limit...?'
Have you?
"We're just tired, that's all." Viktor's voice said, as though unprompted.
Yuri moved his eyes aside to look, and spotted the other half of Team Kyushu looking back at them, each of their much-younger faces gaping at them in wonderment.
"Are you going to make it to the Banquet later?" Minami asked, skeptical.
"...We might be the oldest competitors, but we're not that old." The Russian huffed, "I'm sure we'll be there...though, we might be a bit late."
"Try not to be too late." The teen gave a coy look, "You're both medalists, and Asahi-kun almost never goes to Banquets...someone from the podium has to turn up."
"There was that one time he went," Hikaru noted, leaning over one of the seats in the next row back, "When he won Gold at that Nationals before he disappeared."
"If he tries to skip out on it tonight, I'll bet his coach drags him in there by his Chicken Butt," Minami laughed, "He's climbed too high to be allowed to not show up for the Banquet."
Yuri looked away again, spotting the lights of the hotel on the other side of the river.
.
The door clicked open, and the lights clicked on. Feet shuffled in, and Jiro's leash dropped to the ground as he scampered inside before the door closed again. The pup immediately went under the bed, sniffing at everything he could in the wide new space, coming out again only as he heard the sound of kibble being poured onto a paper plate. Yuri used the moment to unhook the lead and remove the small harness, rubbing his hand over the Akita's back to fluff up the fur where it had been pressed down before.
Viktor drew in a hissed breath as he finally let himself sit down against the edge of the high bed, and pushed himself up a bit further before drawing his right leg up against the other. He tossed his shoe to the floor, for once not caring so much about appearances, and made quick work of the brace that he'd worn with it, as well as the thin sock that covered his pale skin. It wasn't so pale anymore though, splotched with a purple-red bruise that he could've sworn wasn't as bad as all that the last time he looked, "Čert poberi..." (Goddamnit...)
Blue eyes caught sight of a blue shimmer, and Viktor looked up from his swollen and bruised ankle to spot Yuri finally taking his jacket off, the 'Aria' ensemble still worn underneath. Still, throughout it all, Yuri wouldn't look at him. Viktor stayed quiet, rubbing his thumbs over his pained joint instead, waiting and hoping that the younger man would say something, anything to break the silence.
However...as soon as his wish was granted, the Russian suddenly backpedaled.
"...Were you...happy...before me?"
Viktor was too disheartened to be surprised by the question, and he hesitated to answer, "...I...was okay. Desperately lonely, but okay."
"Oh..."
"You already knew that though." He added, "You know more about me than basically anyone else on this Earth."
"...I don't know enough." Yuri said, quieter than before, pushing the sliding door to the room's coat closet shut, and held his hand there for a moment where the panel and the wall came together. The mirror that hung on the door reflected his left side, but he kept his eyes away from it, "...If I...keep making the same mistakes, then I don't...know if I'll ever be able to give you what you need to be happy."
"...Don't say that..."
"I'm just repeating what you said earlier, aren't I?" Yuri wondered, hand clenched at his side, "You told me about how you can't even be sure I'm sorry because I just keep doing the things that hurt you."
"...Then I misspoke." Viktor explained, only to sigh slightly and cringe as his thumb hit a particularly tender spot on the inside of his heel.
"Say it with confidence so people believe it even when you're wrong." Yuri said, eerily echoing the man's own words from earlier in the day. He turned around and pressed his back to the wall, sliding down until he was sitting on the floor, and hugged his arms around his legs, "I'm dumb and naïve, and I look up to you...I'd believe almost anything you say."
"Yuri, please come up here..." The Russian asked quietly, watching for a few seconds of motionless before asking again, "Please..."
Though his eyes felt heavy, Yuri finally pushed to stand, and moved towards the head of the bed, resuming the same knee-hugging position he'd been in before, and stared at the blankets in front of his black-clad toes.
Viktor sighed again, "...This is the fourth night we've been away for competition, and this'll be the fourth night in row that we've had a really depressing conversation. If it wasn't the toy, then it was Saito taking advantage of you, then it was you being mad after the Free Skate, and now th-"
"Me again." Yuri interrupted, "...You can say it. Every bad conversation we've had is specifically because of me. I had the freak-out about the toy, even though I was the one who bought the thing. I was the one who trapped Asahi, even though you specifically told me to avoid him. I was the one who got mad about Asahi getting Silver when I should've been able to beat him. And now...I once again have caused problems between us." He rubbed his still-red eyes on the side of his arm, "It's okay to blame me...I know it's all my fault..."
"It's not your fault." Viktor countered, "From my point of view, anyway. I don't blame you for any of it. The toy was my idea, Saito didn't have to put his hands on you even though you blocked the door, you can't control your anxiety and it would be crazy to expect you to after everything else that happened, and I wasn't even going to say anything close to what you're thinking before you cut me off."
Yuri wouldn't budge, except for where he clamped his fingers down a bit harder.
"I was going to say...that I made a mistake when I said those mean things earlier." The Russian tried to explain, "I was feeling jealous and insecure...and instead of simply doing something to get your attention when I wanted it, I..." He hesitated a moment, but then shook his head, and looked at his bruised ankle again, "...I lashed out, and made you feel a hundred times worse than I had any right to. I can't take back what I said... I ran my mouth again and said things that deeply wounded you...just like back then..." He let go of his shin and watched the ankle slide off the end of the knee it had been resting on, letting the whole leg dangle off the edge of the bed, "...I did the same thing to you that I was upset at you for doing to me. I just didn't realize it until Saito pointed it out. You can imagine how idiotic I feel to be taking something he says about relationships seriously."
Still, Yuri held silent.
Viktor turned his head and looked at his partner, "...And I... I understand, kind of...how it would be confusing, regarding the way I treat him. I'm still wound up and ready to punch him in the mouth for what he did to you... I don't know that I'll ever be able to forgive him for that. But I can see how much it means to you that I understand why he did it, even if I don't personally care. And... You're right, in that it makes perfect sense to want to make peace, even if it's an uneasy one, so the next time we run into one another, it won't be a giant cluster."
"You didn't even have to want the same thing." Yuri pointed out bitterly, "He was ready to quit anyway. It would've worked just as well to drive him out of competition, so we wouldn't even have to deal with him later."
"That's not the choice you made." Viktor explained, "You tore up the formal complaint and made yourself very clear in the process."
"I mean that grand speech you made earlier today!" The younger figure lifted his head, but kept his eyes clenched shut, "He just said he would turn down the Olympic offer if it was given, and that he'd retire from the sport after this weekend. You could've left it alone then and been done with it."
"And you would've spent the next few weeks worried sick that he went back to Imari and hanged himself."
Yuri's whole frame clenched up, and he pressed his brow to the tops of his knees to hide his face.
"I wasn't being insincere when I said that I resented how much time and energy you've put into him," Viktor went on, drawing a breath in the midst of it, "But I can understand why you would. I can see how securely you've tied your emotional wellbeing to his situation, and how his outcome will impact you as a result. So...I put my pride and anger away, and forced myself to help him, because I was so desperately worried how you would feel if it didn't end well."
"...Now we're just back to how it seems like your help isn't legitimate..."
"I'm doing my best not to clobber the man who put his lips on my husband, and left bruises behind to remind me of the fact that I wasn't there to stop him." Viktor said simply, "I can't make myself not feel that way. Maybe it's the Russian in me...I've seen people get out of their cars back in St. Petersburg, and smash each others' windshields with baseball bats because one of them cut the other off. Plus, you did once give me grief for having hit my father in the nose."
"...He deserved it."
"Hmm..." Viktor crossed his arms and looked at the wall in front of him, "...In any case, making sure Saito sticks around for a while means you'll have peace of mind. If that means I have to suffer the indignity of seeing him around sometimes...then I'll just have to be okay with that. I appreciate his efforts to make amends for it anyway. I'll give him credit where it's due...he is trying."
"You don't care about his own situation though."
"I said before that I don't hold it against him." The silver Russian corrected, "I empathize plenty with his plight. I just don't accept it as an excuse for what he did. Personal traumas and sorrows do not transcend consent." He pressed his left hand to the bed and leaned slightly, reaching across the poke the crown of his partner's head with a single finger, "You shouldn't be so eager to forgive him for that either."
"You know I blame myself for that whole situation..." Yuri cringed, clinging around his legs a bit harder, "I may not have specifically consented to what happened, but I did deserve it..."
"You did not."
"But-" He lifted his face, already looking like he would cry again, but found himself too surprised to let the feeling linger as the same finger that poked his head now pressed against his lips to quiet him.
"...You didn't." Viktor repeated, slate eyes staring firmly into brown, "You closed a door and talked. You didn't hold him down against his will. The bruises he left were offensive, not defensive. On top of all that, it's not like you went out of your way to track him down. You ran into him by mistake while talking to Yurio on the phone. ...I thought I had already helped you realize all this. Why let it haunt you?" He wondered nervously, pulling his hand away again.
Yuri just lowered his face in shame, "...I don't know..."
"It's all done and over with anyway." The Russian went on, "Saito is going to the Olympics. We've helped him pull his head out of his arse about Itō. We got him hooked up with social media so he can earn an income and get on with his life. We've done absolutely everything humanly possible for that guy to put him on the right path. And..." He raised his right hand in a half-assed waving gesture, "...Tomorrow, he's going to get to have a Victory Katsudon. You don't owe him friendship on top of that. We're his co-workers now. We can be friendly and socialize at competitions like we do with all the other skaters who aren't Chris and Phichit, but that's it. If for no other reason than because I'm practically begging you...let him go. Until we see actually his face at Four Continents, after tomorrow, I don't want to think about him again."
"You watch his account on Instagram." Yuri pointed out stiffly, "And he watches you back."
Viktor gave a dubious-sarcastic look, "Just because I watch him doesn't mean I see him."
"...Touché."
"So..." The silver legend started again slowly, "...Are we done being sad and confused about everything? I'm really worn out."
"Do you need a nap?"
"...I need a coma, but I'll take what I can get." He answered, flopping down onto his back, arms thrown above his head.
Yuri watched him for a moment, and those eyes that closed, only for one to peek open to look at him again. For a short while, he hesitated, but eventually relented, and unfolded himself from around his own knees. Standing briefly at the edge of the bed, Yuri reached to start unclasping the cords across his chest and stomach, and slipped piece-by-piece out of his blue 'Aria' ensemble. Eventually, he found his phone, set a timer, and set the device down on the nearby nightstand. With nothing left on his frame but his black socks and undershorts, Yuri picked up the puppy, clicked off the light-switch, and climbed back up onto the bed.
Viktor had barely managed to get his arms out of his overcoat before fatigue took him, though he still had at least enough strength to curl an arm around his husband's back as the man crawled and cuddled-up next to him, one arm draped over his chest. Jiro wandered around on the massive bed-space before eventually coming back to curl up against his main human's back.
"Two hours..." Yuri said quietly, "That's when my alarm goes off."
"...Then there's just one thing left that I want to ask..." He started again, feeling the slight twinge in his partner's frame, "...Why 'Aria'?"
Yuri lifted his head again, and twisted to set his chin down where his cheek had been on the man's chest, "...When we were back at home and I was getting my costume, I was thinking how lackluster it would be for the Bronze medalist to skate an unpolished show for the Gold Exhibition, since you were dead-certain I'd be skating in your spot. That's when I ran into my 'Duetto' outfit. I thought... 'Aria' was a Gold-medal performance, and it was yours...and knew it... So it crossed my mind...that I would do a show worthy of your placement."
"Mh...you did...but you went even further than I ever did."
"I wanted to show Asahi what I was really capable of."
Viktor shifted his gaze and gave a wry smirk, "...And put him in his proper place, at the bottom of the podium."
"...Yeah." Yuri turned his head again to settle back where he'd been before, "It just turned out to...be a really good choice for how things ended up today. I think I've gained new appreciation for your mindset when you were still using it in competition. I...never really understood it before, the way you described how it felt to do that show after Sochi... But I think I do now... I had no idea you were watching until I was done, so it felt like I was calling out to someone who couldn't hear me, like you said about me back then." He drew in a little closer, bending one leg to rest over one of his partner's, "But then, you were there at the end, waiting for me..."
"And it didn't take you 8 months of concerted effort to get me into bed with you after."
"Viktor-"
"Mhmm..." He mused, eyes closed in the dark of their room, "I love you."
Yuri couldn't help but smile, "I love you, too."