CHAPTER FOUR HUNDRED EIGHT
Yuri finished putting away all the travel gear, sorting out all the dirty laundry and medals from the costumes that needed to be dry-cleaned. The last things to be set aside were the skates themselves. He paused a moment to look at his husband's; the last ones removed from the bag. The little Russian flag insignia was still evident on the inside of each heel, which gave Yuri reason to make a face.
I wonder if he's considering switching these out so the flags aren't there anymore? I know it's rough to get brand new boots though... Competing in skates that haven't been broken-in yet can be painful. I'll ask him...
He set the boots in their place; a shelf in the trophy room, pressed up against the wall. The shelving unit itself was like a big stack of square-shaped wooden panels stacked up on top of each other, with each square forming a cubby-hole. His own blades were in the cubby next to it, stored on the shelf second-up from the floor. In all, there were about 18 shelving units in the display, 8 along the bottom and 1 less in each subsequent row up to the top, lined-up on the right nearest the door. Other units in the space held small trophies, framed photos, and a few personalized knickknacks. Nearby, there were 4 dress-forms meant to hold up the season's current costumes, though with those outfits in garment-bags - set aside for cleaning later - the forms were bare.
Yuri moved to put the Gold and Bronze medals away, with the ribbons around the 'neck stumps' of two of the dress-forms, for later placement in the frames that lined their respective prize walls. He looked at his reflection in his own medal, and rubbed his thumb over its pink-brown metallic face.
...I'm still a bit sour that I didn't get Silver at least... I wonder if it would've made any difference if I had Jiro with me before the Free Program?
He glanced down to where that very pup was sitting patiently in the doorway, watching him skulk around the room, putting things away.
...It kind of bugs me that I'm even thinking that kind of thing. Viktor should be enough to get me through my panic attacks, right? Why would I need a dog to do that for me instead...?
.
"If you mess up and miss the podium...I'll take responsibility by resigning as your coach."
Yuri's face was blank, eyes wide and body unmoving. Viktor flinched slightly as a droplet fell from his student's chin.
"...Why would you say something like that? Like you're trying to test me...?" Yuri finally asked, tears rolling down his face, "I've thought that maybe you regretted being my coach and wanted to quit..."
"That's not-"
"I KNOW!" Yuri screamed out, trembling, "I'm used to people blaming me for my own failures...but now, everything I do reflects on you, too!"
"...I'm not good with people crying in front of me. Should I just kiss you...?"
"NO! You don't have to do ANYTHING! Just STAND BY ME! I need you to believe more than I do THAT I CAN WIN!"
.
Oh...right... Yuri grimaced, He gives me anxiety sometimes... He shook his head and settled the medal against the dress-form's pale-taupe fabric chest, and turned towards the doorway. Jiro stood and wagged his curly tail just a moment before Yuri reached down to pick him up, "You have a special kind of magic the people don't. Even if I completely mess up, you're still super excited to see me come back. Guess that's a perk of not being my coach...you don't have to remind me of my failings so I can learn from them. You can just be happy that I came back without hurting myself." His eyes went white as he remembered three very specific times when that wasn't the case, "...Most of the time."
The pup yipped and licked his human's face, wiggling in the man's arms as Yuri walked them back out into the main room. Once there though, Yuri set the pup down again, dropping him a short distance into one of the pillow piles he'd arranged earlier, and lifted the blanket covering the kotatsu to check the heater underneath. Makkachin already had the right idea, and was content to lie on his side with everything but his tail under the table-top, and those dark eyes lifted when the light poured in.
"Oh, hey." Yuri teased, reaching further in to ruffle the poodle's ears before lowering his side of the blanket again. He spotted that poof of a tail wagging on the other side, and pushed to stand up, looking towards the kitchen; the air smelled of wine and cinnamon and clove, with a hint of orange and nutmeg.
Viktor was doting over his creation on the stove-top, constantly stirring the concoction while it simmered. So focused on the pot of bubbling wine, he didn't notice the footsteps behind him until a pair of arms went around his frame and a body pressed up behind him. He smiled and set his free hand onto the forearms wrapped against his core, and turned his head slightly to glance a peek at the man who'd hugged him, "Already done, my love?"
"Mh."
"I'm almost done here, t- oh!" Viktor looked forward and down again as he suddenly felt those hands shift, moving up the front of his sweater, then his undershirt, until they could get underneath and feel his skin instead. He laughed quietly at the sensation of cold fingers against him, sliding around from stomach to sides before coming to rest there, "You're a little chilly."
"You're a little hot." Yuri countered, lifting his cheek from the back of a shoulder to see over it, giving a sly look as he waited his husband's reaction.
"I'm hurt...only a little?" The Russian teased.
"Oh, in that case, you're super hot." Yuri retorted, hands roaming further up under the garments, "Enough that...you set my heart on fire...!" He sang.
"Don't stop us now...the moment of truth, we were...born to make history..." Viktor joined in, finding the younger man starting to sway them both to the imaginary beat. Yuri eventually pulled his arms back though, setting his hands on the silver legend's waist as he rose up onto his toes to playfully nip at one ear, catching Viktor off-guard slightly, and made the taller man give a laugh of surprise. For the second time in a night, those pale cheeks blushed a little, and the Russian watched as his young husband moved back towards the front room, still humming their song as he went.
"So what are your plans for your boots anyway?" Yuri wondered after a moment, sitting on the arm of the blue couch as he surfed through channels on the television.
"My boots...?" Viktor echoed, attention turned back to the pot of wine. He smelled it once more and decided it was finished, turning off the heat and moving over to a pitcher with a fine strainer set over the open top. He poured the liquid through, catching the chunks of spice and orange peel, until the pot was empty, "You mean my skating boots, right?"
"Hai. You still have the Russian flag on your heels. I know they're hard to see, but..." Yuri explained, "Since you're not skating for Russia anymore, and in a few weeks, you won't even be a Russian citizen anymore...maybe you should consider switching them for the Japanese flag? Unless you mean something else by them being there."
"Oh...I hadn't thought about those things." He admitted, lifting the sieve from the pitcher to cast its contents away. Two wine glasses were on the counter nearby, and he grabbed one at a time to pour the mulled alcohol, "I guess we could do a little 'arts and crafts' to fix them for now. It'd be murder on my feet to get brand new boots right now, especially if it's just for the sake of the flag insignias."
"That's what I was thinking, too. Maybe there's a Shoe Doctor in town who can cover them with something temporarily."
"Here I was thinking white-out and a red sharpie." Viktor laughed, putting the left-over wine into the refrigerator before grabbing up the two glasses, and stepped out into the living-room, handing one off, "A toast to your better brain."
Yuri just made a teasing face at that, crinkling his nose slightly as their glasses clink'd together. He pulled his own close to smell his husband's handiwork properly, "It's always a treat when you make this stuff."
"Yours is pretty good too, you know." The silver Russian pointed out, setting his hot and steamy glass down on top of the kotatsu as he sat down into the pillow-pile, moving Jiro out of the way to avoid sitting on him.
"Sure, but there's something about yours that's special." Yuri explained, following after his partner with the remote control still in his other hand. Just as he set his wine-glass down and found his spot between his partner's legs, he paused and reached to pull his thin sweater away...only to hesitate when it was barely half-way up his torso. He glanced back over his shoulder, lowering his elbows again, "...You don't mind if I do this, right?"
"Do I, Viktor Nikiforov, mind if my husband takes his clothes off." The Russian retorted in a half-mocking tone.
"Well...I mean...the marks on my arms and back are still..." Yuri explained, "You said that every time you see them, it just reminds you of everything that happened..."
"You can take your shirt off, my love." Viktor made a face, "Even if the marks didn't remind me, you just did."
"Oh." The younger man's face went pale, "Shimatta...! Gomen!" (Crap...! Sorry!)
Silver hair tousled slightly as Viktor shook his head from side to side once, "Daijōbu." (It's okay.) "It was already on my mind anyway."
Yuri was stunned, but only for a moment. He pulled his shirt off anyway and cast it onto the couch nearby before turning to lean into his husband's waiting embrace, "...Why were you already thinking about it?"
The Russian wiggled a little as he reached his right hand to his back pocket, and pulled his phone up, "I was checking Instagram while you were putting our things away. Saito updated again."
"Oh...? Is it bad?" The younger man reached for the unlocked device, and saw that Instagram was already loaded from before. He scrolled to the top of the post that his husband had been looking at, reading the comments no doubt, and saw a small photo-album had been posted on Asahi's new account. The first image of the 10-long slideshow featured Asahi, without his hair dyed, and someone Yuri didn't recognize, black hair highlighted with thin scarlet streaks. He read the caption quietly to himself as he made room for Viktor's arm to come back around his core, and felt a chin come down onto his right shoulder.
[I honestly don't know how many people will care, or want to know this much about me, but...] The post started, [If there's nothing else that I learned this weekend, it's that I need to be more open about myself. I've been quiet about this aspect of my life for my ENTIRE life, but I think...I'm ready to be out with it. While it brings me great sadness and pain to see these photos after so long, I thought it would be helpful to use some of them to highlight the kind of person I am...by also showing off the person that I loved.
[Many already know that the car accident from 2 years ago claimed the life of a fellow skater and rink-mate of mine...but to me, he was so much more than that. I made him keep it a secret because I was so ashamed that anyone would know. He took that secret to the grave with him, while we were on our way to a meeting where I'd planned on starting to tell people.
[This is Riku...someone I cherished and lost too soon...someone I never got to express that to properly before he was taken from me. My heart has been a void since he was taken out of it...and my soul's been ripped in half since having to confront that loss. I put it off for so long, because at the back of my mind, the fact that the accident that took him was while we were on our way to start explaining ourselves, and the fact that I lived...somehow was meant as a punishment for our hubris. That I lived...as punishment for having ever thought I could admit that I loved another man.
[I spent 2 years trying to pretend that we never were. I got cold feet about absolutely everything after I lost Riku. I went into seclusion and pretended Riku was just a friend, because it was easier than trying to explain the truth that we'd kept hidden. But he was everything to me, and it kills me that I couldn't tell him that while he was still alive.
[So...while you look at these photos...please remember these words: Live and love every day like you'll never get the chance to see the sun rise another day...because it will never be as beautiful again if you don't.]
"Wow..." Yuri said quietly as he blinked a few tears away, and scrolled back up to leaf through the album. The images were innocent; hugs, hand-holds, gentle touches on the face, and a few funny ones with Riku trying to style Asahi's hair while Asahi tried to hold the phone...but the last two images hurt more than anything. The first of the two was a photo of Riku's grave-marker from the day of the funeral; snow-covered from the season but colorful from the flowers placed all around, and an almost-invisible white dog with honey-tipped accents that couldn't be moved from the front of it all. The second, was a photo from earlier in the day, showing Asahi with that very dog inside someone's home. Yuri could feel the tears trailing down his face, and he snuffled slightly before scrolling back to the front of the album, "It was just...stories before...but with these pictures...it just makes everything so real now."
"See what I mean about how weird it is to suddenly take relationship advice from him?" Viktor commented, "In spite of all the mistakes he made at Nationals...it's hard not to take him seriously in light of this kind of thing."
"Yeah..."
"It really is good advice though... Live every day like it's your last. You can never be sure when it really will be; for you or someone you care about."
.
The afternoon and evening had been particularly hard to get through. By barely 9pm, regardless of the sleepless night beforehand and the early rise to make the trip, Asahi was exhausted. Most of the rest of the Itō family seemed to agree, though Hayate remained awake in his own room with the lights on.
This is so unfair. I've been taking care of that phone for 2 years and mom just gives it away to a guy she's never met. A guy who took 2 years just to show up here finally! I was gonna use that phone to keep Riku's spirit alive...but this Asahi jerk is probably just going to put it into a drawer somewhere and forget it as soon as the next pretty face wanders by.
It wasn't difficult to sense the tension, but the 'adults' of the house made sure to keep it away from the target of that indignation. A soft knock came from outside the teen's room, and a simple groan of 'what' bid them ender. Brown eyes with flecks of gold turned as the door opened, and Hayate grumbled even more as his two parents both came in and sat on the edge of his bed. He stayed at his desk and computer though, scrolling through nonsense that he wasn't even really looking at anymore.
[We know you're mad,] His mother started, [But we're not the only ones who lost your brother that day. You heard what Asahi said about why it took him so long to come...and the fact that he still feels this badly after 2 years should tell you something.]
[I'm not mad because he cares.] Hayate growled, [I'm mad because YOU'RE giving away my brother's things. Things I've been keeping safe.]
[We know the phone meant a lot to you, bu-]
[But nothing!] He argued, turning in his seat, [What else of Riku's will I have to remember him by when Asahi leaves with that phone tomorrow!?]
[Half the things in your room right now were Riku's.] His father pointed out, gesturing to a number of objects; school mementos, toys from younger days, even a pair of skates kept in a corner, [You won't even let Asahi look at those...] He gestured at the bladed boots.
[Cuz you'll give them away if he shows attachment!]
[He's getting the phone. You can keep the rest...but for the love of your brother, let him look at the skates, Hayate. Your feet don't even fit in them.]
[That's not the point!]
[Then what is? You seem fixated on things that you can use for yourself, whether realistic or not.]
Hayate crumpled over his keyboard, [I don't just want Riku's things to disappear or to get put into storage somewhere, never to be seen or used again!]
[...That's...part of the point with the phone right now.] The matriarch explained, [You heard Asahi earlier...if someone, if you, had answered back on Riku's phone when he called and texted this morning, imagine how much pain and suffering that would've caused him. The fear that someone other than your brother might have that phone and number is just unthinkable to the people whose lives he was a part of. You have to give the phone up. Making sure no one other than Riku ever uses it again is exactly why we want Asahi to have it.]
Hayate didn't seem to appreciate the words, but he didn't answer, simply burying his face into his folded arms on the table top.
[Now that you know the passcode, leaving it here will just give Asahi a lot of anxiety. You're young and can be kind of cruel sometimes, especially when it comes to protecting the things you think belong to you. I would never forgive myself if I made Asahi give you that phone back, and you used it to torment him for daring to show up here.]
[I would never do that-]
[People do things when they're hurting that they normally wouldn't. If this were about anyone other than your brother...we would believe you. But...this is Riku.] His mother explained, then rose back up to standing, husband going with her, [The phone stays with Asahi. It's a small gesture, but it's something that can give him some peace. He deserves that.]
The sound of footsteps left the room, and the door closed again, leaving Hayate to sulk and be bitter about it. As with most teenagers...the prospect of being told they're wrong was never an easy thing to accept, and he was no exception. But there was nothing more that he could do. The phone was gone.
The two parents went back out into the living room to find Asahi sitting on their couch, arms wrapped tightly around himself, his phone and Riku's on his lap. Hana was curled up next to him, back pressed to his leg. He glanced up, eyes red, to the pair as they returned.
[I know the walls can be paper thin at times, but...I'd like to say to you that the phone is yours.] The older woman explained, [Please forgive Hayate. He's become quite territorial over his brother's things since we went to get them from Tokyo.]
[I could tell...] Asahi sighed, relaxing a little bit to know there was no more risk of the device being taken away, [The sweater he's wearing right now was Riku's.]
[You remember his clothes after all this time...?] The father wondered, surprised.
Asahi nodded, [There's a hole on the front of the left elbow that Hana put there while trying to chew up my clothes once.] He moved his hand over to stroke the dog's fur, [I'd recognize it anywhere...because I felt bad that it happened.]
[Ahh...]
[You look so tired, Asahi.] The matriarch commented, crouching down before him with a hand on one knee, the other pressing up to the skater's forehead, [We don't want you to get sick from all this stress. You should be safe to get some rest now. Put the phone somewhere safe in your bags, and try to sleep.]
He nodded through his exhaustion, and pushed up from the couch as Riku's mother stood as well. He checked the phone one more time before clicking it off and putting it somewhere in the middle of his suitcase, amidst the soft clothes that would protect it from scratches and meddling. He returned to the couch after that, and shooed Hana down so he could lie flat on the deep cushions.
[Do you need anything before we turn in as well?]
Asahi glanced up, then down again, [...I had...one question.]
[What is it?]
[How long did you know about Riku and I? I mean...] He started, nervously unsure if he was clear, [Did he tell you right away? Was it close to the end...?]
[He never actually said it directly...] The woman explained, [But when he did speak about you, there was a very distinct change in the way of it after a while. One day, he spoke of you simply as a rink-mate that he liked, and his slight frustrations at how you hadn't noticed him over the course of the year that you two trained together. Then, suddenly, he was over the moon about you. There was only one reason why that might be. But, as long as he never specifically said anything, I just played along with the terms he used. He had never been shy about his relationships before, so we had to assume it was something to do with your preferences at that point.]
[...Oh...]
[We supposed that maybe it was your first same-sex relationship, or a number of other things. Riku could be quite direct when he wanted something, but he wasn't so sure about whether you'd return his interest. He complained sometimes about how hard it was to read you...] She continued, moving around the room to start turning lights off, [I guess he got impatient and told you finally?]
Asahi's face was a bit red, but he nodded against the blanket he'd pulled over himself, [He was...very direct. I couldn't resist. Didn't really have the option.]
The woman smiled, standing next to the last switch, [That was my Riku. Never shy.]
[...I wish...that I could've saved him.] Asahi pulled one arm free from the blanket and pinched the bridge of his nose, [But I couldn't even tell where he'd been hurt. He looked fine to me.]
[...There was nothing you could have done,] Mrs. Itō explained, feeling the sting in her eyes to be reminded of that day so specifically, [From what we've heard about what happened, from the EMTs who were there, what you did was enough. My son knew that he was loved when he passed; you held onto him. You will always have our gratitude for that.]
Asahi nodded quietly, drawing in a ragged breath as he closed his eyes. The matriarch waited a moment before finally clicking off that last light, and she went with her partner out of the room. With the room still, dark, and quiet, Asahi could feel his head tingling from the tension of those memories flooding back again. He tried to let himself relax, taking in the smell of the place so he could imprint it into his mind before his inevitable departure, but even after a few minutes, he was restless. Exhaustion wasn't enough to let him sleep, and he rolled onto his side. Eyes opened in frustration...but straight in front of him were two unexpected dark eyes. Asahi jumped a little, blinked, and realized...it was Hana there, with her snout pressed right onto the edge of the couch in front of him, tail wagging slowly, hopefully. She whined at him.
"...W-what...?" Asahi stammered, unsure of the situation, "I don't know what you want..." He whispered.
One paw came up then, and the Hokkaido-ken scratched at the edge of the blanket. She put the paw down and snuffled to get her nose under the warmth instead. The skater finally understood...or thought he did...and lifted his arm, moving the blanket up with it. Hana quickly made the most of it and jumped up, collapsing into a fluffy ball against Asahi's chest and stomach, and set her head down on the arm he'd folded under his pillow.
...She...never wanted to do this with me back then... Riku was her cuddle-buddy. It was always her against Riku's front, then me in the back...if she didn't migrate between us at some point in the middle of the night, paws against my chest like she thought she could shove me away...
He sighed, but accepted it, and draped the blanket-holding arm over the dog when he let it down over her, "...You know I can't take you with me... You're not even my dog..."
She just snuffled at that, as though she understood the words, and was saying 'try me' in response.
Asahi huffed a pained breath against the dog's fluff, and settled down again as well as he could. Somehow...having Hana there was enough. His heart stopped racing for a little while, and after a few minutes, he finally fell asleep.