(Art available on AO3 version of this chapter.)
CHAPTER FOUR HUNDRED ONE
The table of Team Saito was rather lively in spite of its namesake. Asahi had long-relinquished decision-making powers to his coach and had turned into himself, returning to the introverted nature that had made him comfortable for so long.
Too many people... Too many things being said, done... I feel like I'm being smothered.
He pushed up from the table and excused himself, seeking for the refuge of somewhere quieter.
The skin around his eyes felt as heavy as lead, pushing down into his line of sight, and weighing so heavily that he felt them pull his entire head down. The pain in his chest from the Exhibition had never really gone away; it was slightly dulled by time, but it still hurt. Anytime Asahi let his thoughts get away from him, the shock of white-hot lightening went out from his heart and up into his throat, sometimes reaching right behind his tired, bloodshot eyes.
It's weird to be grateful that no one in Japan really likes to make eye-contact... It'd be annoying to spend all night trying to explain why I look like I have the flu and pink-eye...
As he wandered out of the main Banquet hall, the lights on the walls changed, dimming slightly, and the mood of the music changed. The fun tempo switched gears to something much slower. Asahi looked back for a moment, looking up at the footage on the two big screens, spotting clips from the Exhibition being played back. Yuri's 'Aria' was on display then, which fit the more somber ambiance of the music then.
Sorry, Yuri... I wish I could've been a better friend to you.
He turned his back to the room and slipped out through the wide-open doors, hanging a left to avoid getting caught-up in all the socializing being done by others. The elevators were to the right, but he didn't intend to leave yet, so it was of no consequence that he couldn't go that way. Finding a window at the edge of the hallway was enough; the entire outer perimeter of the floor was lined with windows where the side of the building wasn't obstructed by more conference rooms. He went as far as he could before the walls leading back to the Banquet pressed up and blocked the hall. Still, it was far enough away from where most other people were hanging out that it offered some semblance of respite.
He found a bench against one of the walls and took a seat, pulled out his phone, and loaded up the funding page. To his shock, and deeper down, his guilt, he saw that the number had reached nearly $40,000. Asahi could hardly contain his shock, and his eyes watered all over again, making them sting fiercely.
I don't deserve all this. Why do all these people care so much? I've never met a single one of them.
He closed out of the page quickly and instead went to check Instagram. His following there had sharply increased as well. It didn't come close to rivaling established athletes, least of all Viktor, but it was still a few dozen-thousand more than he'd had the day before. There were thousands of comments posted to the two things he'd uploaded, especially the video that Yuri had helped him make more recently. Though there were a few comments that seemed only to care for Viktor's antics in the background towards the end, the overwhelming majority were for himself.
But then, there were the odd perceptive few who made mention of things that were still quite a sensitive issue.
'Your Exhibition was incredible, but I think a lot of us are wondering if your song choice had some deeper meaning. The way you needed help getting out of the rink at the end...are you okay? Was that performance a eulogy for the accident 2 years ago?'
'Was your Exhibition for Itō-kun?'
'That performance you did hit me real hard. I can only imagine how difficult it was for you to get through the whole thing. I'm glad you're being more open about your feelings now, but I wish it hadn't taken 2 years for you to feel comfortable doing so. I know I'm just a fan and we've never met, but if you need to talk to someone...'
Asahi's eyes went down the page, loading more comments. It was...incredibly strange for so many people to be so keen on how he'd felt doing the Gala show, and more so how many of them could attribute it to the accident. Perhaps because it was so seemingly obvious to all of them, Asahi felt a jolt of courage in his gut, and he went to create a new post. He only took a photo of his crossed ankles and the elaborate pattern of carpet on the floor...but the fact that there were no other feet present in the image made it evident that he was alone. His thumbs went to type the message...
[Thank you everyone for your kind words about my Exhibition.] He wrote in Japanese, [I'm...actually kind of overwhelmed at how many people knew that it was about the accident, given how I've never said anything about it to anyone. But...yes... That afternoon, 2 years ago, I lost someone precious to me, and I've been struggling a lot to deal with that loss. The Nikiforovs helped me a lot this weekend; on that front, as well as in getting me onto social media. I'll be forever in their debt. I don't know that I would've ever been able to come to terms with what happened if it hadn't been for them. I know it's going to be a long road to feeling like myself again, but this journey is only just starting. Please be gentle with me. I didn't think it was possible to cry so much as I have in the last two days.]
He hovered a thumb over the button to submit his post, hesitating to be so open with himself, but eventually he let it go through. He drew in a deep, albeit shaky breath before leaning back against the wall to close his eyes for a moment.
It...kind of feels like a relief to finally say something about Riku, even if not what I really think...
Eyes went back down to his phone, and he started thumbing in the search for information on getting to Wakkanai. To his dismay, the trip would be no less than 7 hours no matter what method he used.
I knew Wakkanai was really far away, but I didn't think it'd take 7 hours to get there... Are layovers really that bad?
Asahi clicked through the itinerary, and true enough, the flight itself was barely over half the total travel time. He grumbled quietly as he saw the hour at the top of his phone.
If I could, I'd leave right now...but the trains don't run this late, and I have to use one to get to the airport... They start up again at 5am though... I wonder when the first plane leaves?
A few other clicks, and before Asahi knew it, he'd already booked his trip. He swallowed nervously and checked for the confirmation email in his inbox, showing his departure and return-flight all the way back to Fukuoka.
I'll be leaving in less than 5 hours... I'll have to tell Yuri and Senpai that I won't be able to go with them to Yu-Topia like Yuri offered... Senpai will be relieved about it at least. Maybe I should find a way to tell him alone so it doesn't feel so awkward with Yuri...
The phone screen turned black, and Asahi drew another sharp breath before he pushed up to stand. With the phone stowed in his breast-pocket, he wandered back to the main Banquet hall. His eyes scanned the room for the Nikiforovs, spotting Yuri at the far end, bringing back the office chair that Minami had found earlier in the night. He watched for a moment, realizing that the pair were heading for the dance-floor in front of the stage.
I'll have to catch them later, then...
Viktor sat sideways with his right leg bent under him in the seat, and used his left to push himself around rather than making Yuri push him again.
"How's it feel at this point anyway?" Yuri wondered, looking down slightly, rubbing his thumb over where their hands were clasped together between them.
"It still thumps me sometimes," The Russian explained, nudging himself along at his husband's walking pace, "But for the most part, I think it's settled down. I just have to be more careful about turning certain ways when I stand on it. It only really got me earlier because I tried to turn to my left on it, and pulled my ankle back out the same way I'd hurt it in the first place. If I keep it neutral, it feels fine."
"So with a week of bed-rest, you should be good enough to at least drive, right?"
"A week of bed-rest!?" Viktor whined, "I'm gonna get fat if I don't do anything!"
Yuri gave him quite the look for that comment, "You can exercise in every way other than running, and you don't even need to go to the gym at the Ice Castle to work out. Maybe the docs will even give you one of those fake peg-leg things to hold your foot out so you can still get around but not bear weight."
"...Fake peg-legs?" Viktor echoed in horror.
"Yeah, it's this thing that you rest your knee in so you can walk." Yuri explained, helping leverage the chair to get the flimsy wheels over the lip of the wooden dance floor, "You keep your knee bent, with a post directly under it to act as the bottom half of your leg, and there's a platform that holds the rest of your real leg out at 90 degrees so you never touch it down to the ground."
"...Oh, yeah, I know those. But you're Japanese. It wouldn't work."
"...Eh!? What does my being Japanese have to do with anything?" Yuri gaped, finding their spot on the big square surface.
Viktor pushed up to his good leg and turned around, resting his right knee against the seat cushion as he found the best way to stand with the chair's bulk so close to him, "Well, Japan is known for its Ninjas, not its Pirates...and if I have a peg-leg, well... The Nikiforov household will be in chaos! Yuri and Jiro vs Viktor and Makkachin! Who will survive!?"
Yuri was incredulous, but he couldn't help laughing anyway, "I can't believe you just reduced this situation to a Pirates vs Ninjas thing."
"I have to do something to make it fun, otherwise it's just a miserable nightmare." The Russian answered, offering his hand out now that he'd situated himself and his 'crutch' properly. His husband took it and stepped in closer. Before either of them could actually take position though, Viktor reached up and pulled his spouse's glasses away, folded them neatly and placed them into his jacket's inside pocket, "There, now I can really see you. Nothing in the way."
Yuri's cheeks pinked slightly, but he didn't protest; they were close enough that his vision didn't blur anyway. He felt hands and arms slide around his waist, clasping loosely behind his back, and he raised his own up to go over and behind his partner's shoulders, "Don't let me forget you have them."
"Have what?" Viktor wondered, half-teasing. He leaned in closer and pressed his brow to his mate's, brushing nose-tips over one another softly, "All I have right now is you."
"Mmh..." The younger figure agreed, closing his eyes and letting his other senses take over.
[pic]
With the lights low, music quiet, and the ambiance of the late night Banquet lowered down to a relaxed tempo, the stress brought on by the 'ankle incident' and the 'Saito incident' could almost be forgotten for a while. Dots of pale light roamed around the room, reflected off a mirror ball above the dance floor.
Yuri let himself melt into his husband's warmth, gradually moving down as the music changed over a few times, until he could rest his head against one shoulder. He felt his right hand taken up into another, fingers gently weaving in and out, between one another, feeling and exploring slowly over every inch as though for the first time. He didn't even notice when the chair disappeared, but by the time he did, he supposed it had been gone for a little while, and so long as Viktor didn't make any physical sign of pain, he supposed it was best to just leave it to the man himself to decide how much he'd be willing to use it. All he cared about in that moment was the arm around him, the other holding to his hand, and the feeling of a warm cheek pressed to his brow as they slowly swayed one another to and fro to the music.
To think, I used to be scared of him being close, and of him touching me at all... Now I can't stand the idea of him letting me go.
He glanced up slightly, opening his eyes just enough to see without disturbing his partner's perch there against his forehead. It was hard to tell from that vantage, but he was sure Viktor had his eyes closed and was smiling.
...This is the first time all weekend he's really let himself relax a little. Even when we went home, he was still a bit tense. ...I...should learn how to do more to keep him settled. Maybe I should reconsider what that toy means to me...since it was his idea...
It gave him a nervous flutter to think about the object still hidden under their bed in Hasetsu, but he put the anxiety away, forcing it down until it disappeared.
It must've hurt him on some level that I rejected it so harshly... I wonder what he'd think if I changed my mind...? I mean, it...
He could feel his face getting hot with the red hue that overtook it. He drew a sharp breath, and let it out just as quickly.
...It did feel good...
Feeling the fingers laced through his own for a little while longer, Yuri then pulled his back, sliding them down the sleeve of his husband's arm. He pulled his head up and looked straight on, into those slightly-confused blue eyes. His other arm came out from around the Russian's side as well, and he pressed both palms to his partner's cheeks.
I'm sorry for what I put you through this weekend... I promise, I'll do better...
Viktor's eyes softened, as though, somehow, he could hear those thoughts. They closed and he leaned forward, pressing his lips to the younger man's forehead, then down to the bridge of Yuri's nose, "You got so serious all of a sudden."
Yuri lowered his face slightly, looking aside nervously, "...I feel like I did a lot of damage to us over the last few days... I want to take the easy route and blame my inexperience with relationships, but...even if I'd been with a thousand other people before you, it still wouldn't change that your take on things is unique to you. No amount of experience with others will ever help me with knowing how you're doing at any given moment."
Viktor hummed quietly to himself, but then reached a hand up to curl his fingers around the right pressed to his face, pulling it back slightly to kiss the ring there, "Maybe that's partly my fault as well. You may know things about me now, but that doesn't mean I've really changed my behavior around it. I don't do you any service by feeling bad about myself, while keeping it to myself, until it's so bad that it dissolves into hurt on both sides. ...Thinking back on it," The Russian sighed, feeling rather embarrassed suddenly, though his cheeks wouldn't give it away, "...What I said to you before you skated 'Aria,' it must've felt like it came completely out of left field. If I had just come out and said...'let me deal with Saito on my own...it makes me uncomfortable when you try to help him,' maybe we could've saved ourselves a lot of trouble."
Yuri blinked up at him, but then nodded, "...I thought...after you had that meeting with him and Minako-sensei, that things would be better. If I only ever did things for Asahi while you were around, that it was okay, as though I was doing it under your supervision. Then I got carried away because you were doing so much for him yourself, and some of the things you said...I guess I felt like I had to do something just to catch up to you."
"It was never your responsibility to help him. The fact that you were friendly before was a moot point. You owed him nothing after what he did to you in the changing room." The silver legend explained, stepping carefully as they continued their slow sway, "In that way, I kind of wish I could imbue you with some of my pettiness. I have no problem cutting people out of my life if they cause me trouble...past interactions don't always mean much."
Yuri's eyes were white, "Icauesyoutroubleallthetimethough!" He panicked.
"Shhh...shhh..." Viktor cooed, "The kind of trouble you and I find ourselves in is a very different thing from the kind of trouble that I would want to get rid of. Our troubles make us stronger together. We'll be stronger still after this weekend." He reassured, releasing the fingers from his gentle grasp, and returned his hand around his husband's waist. Yuri rested his own against his shoulder, those hazel eyes still looking up at him nervously, "And while I hope that, one day, we'll have experienced enough of the right kind of trouble that we don't have to go through it all that often...this is still Year One for us. Things were different before we got engaged and married. Love and sex, and everything that goes with it, makes the rest much more complicated, because we've invested so much more into it. Does that make sense...?"
Feeling a bit emotional, even as he felt an overwhelming sense of relief, Yuri nodded. He slid his hand up from the shoulder, past the Russian's glossy black ascot and collar, and wove his fingers through silver hair, "It's...dumb how obvious some things are, yet we can be so oblivious to them unless someone else points it out."
"Deshou?" (Right?) Viktor smiled, "So...does this mean we can start kissing again, or is there something else on your mind? It's been hours..."
Yuri blanched, "...I was doing it again, wasn't I?"
"...Oh, you weren't doing it on purpose this time?" The Russian huffed, "I thought you were waiting for something."
"Well..." The younger man started hesitantly, "I did...kind of think that I should probably earn back the privilege of getting to kiss you... But...the stuff you said just now...makes me feel a lot better about everything. Maybe it wasn't as bad as I thought."
"We should dance more often then. It's usually quite productive."
Yuri nodded, and pulled a bit where his hand was parked behind his husband's head, "...We should anyway, even if there's nothing to say."
"That's just the kind of thing I like to hear." Viktor nosed his spouse's lips, then...finally...got the kiss he'd been so patiently waiting for.