Chapter 13: The Shadow of My Heart
Victor tossed and turned in his sleep, moaning restlessly as his free skate music played relentlessly in his battered mind. In all of his dreams, he skated his free skate program, but not alone. Dressed in blue and looking like a sweet, gentle prince from a fairy tale, Yuuri Katsuki skated with him, moving with the music, making each sweeping turn, smiling lovingly as he reached out with a partially gloved hand that caressed the side of Victor's face, making his eyes soften dreamily and follow the motion of that loving hand as it retreated.
Stop it!
Stop tormenting me!
It was just a stupid dream.
It was just my mind playing tricks.
It wasn't real.
Victor sat up in the bed in his penthouse suite at the Japanese hotel, sweating and still trembling all over from how deeply the dream had gripped him.
"Maccachin!" he called softly, aching all over to hug the old dog.
Then, he remembered.
He's back in Russia, staying with Lilia while I compete, here in Japan. Damn it, it's so hard to sleep alone. I always sleep with my arms around him, except when I go to competitions these days. Maccachin is pretty old, and it's harder for him when we travel, so I don't take him everywhere, like I used to.
He tried wrapping his arms around the extra pillows on the bed, but huffed out a frustrated breath because it just couldn't match the feeling of curling around a warm body. And although he knew he only had to step out into the hallway and talk for a few minutes to any number of females or males hanging out around the skater's rooms to find a companion, he was sure that no one would feel right to him.
It's almost like a curse, knowing exactly who I want to share my bed with, but not being able to be with that person. I feel almost desperate enough to go crawling to that silly boy in Hasetsu, tear my clothes off in front of him and beg him to notice me.
Why him?
Why can't someone, anyone else be good enough?
Why Yuuri Katsuki?
He sat up again, knocking the extra pillows onto the floor, and his fingers dug into the sheets, shaking as he struggled inside to force away his melancholy. He briefly considered the wet bar in his room, but almost immediately abandoned the idea.
I might get drunk after the competition, but I'm not going to do that when the competition is just hours away.
He picked up the extra pillows from the floor and laid down again, curling tightly around them and loosing a discontented groan into their depths.
I'm going to get very stinking drunk after this, then I won't have trouble sleeping.
He consoled himself with that as he gazed out the wide, floor to ceiling windows of the penthouse, admiring the stars that were so like the little lights he recalled seeing in Yuuri Katsuki's brown eyes. After what seemed a torturously long time, Victor drifted off and, luckily, was too tired to be troubled if there were any more dreams. When he woke, it didn't matter that he had rested poorly. It was a competition day, and after twenty years of competitions, Victor Nikiforov was conditioned to perform.
He climbed out of bed and showered, then dressed and left for the arena. He found Yakov waiting, and earned a nod of approval at being, not just on time, but early. As soon as his skates touched the ice, he knew already that he was ready for the competition. Still, he focused carefully and practiced the moves that were second nature. Any remaining emotions or troubling thoughts were pushed out of his mind as Victor became the Russian ice prince that everyone waited to see.
"I see you got your head together," Yakov rumbled as Victor placed a hand on the old man's shoulder and lifted on long, slender leg to stretch the warmed muscles, "Just keep it focused."
"Of course," Victor said easily, "I will. Don't worry."
"Hmm," the old man grunted, "you haven't been yourself for awhile, so it makes sense to be worried."
"I'm fine, Yakov," Victor assured him, "Everything will be fine."
Yakov watched as Victor returned to the ice for a final bit of practice. When practice was over, Yakov waited while Victor changed out of his skates, then the two left the ice rink and the old coach and his skaters in the competition headed to a restaurant for their midday meal.
Victor ate lightly, then walked back to the hotel, where several reporters were waiting in the lobby to do a short interview.
"Victor, you are leading by a wide margin," Morooka said appreciatively, "Do you have any concerns about tonight's competition?"
"No," Victor answered, smiling casually, "I have a comfortable lead, and my practice this morning went well. I'm looking forward to competing tonight."
"Well, there will be a lot of people watching you go for this record setting fifth world title. Do you have anything to say to all of your fans out there, watching you?"
"Yes," Victor said emphatically, "I want to tell all of my fans just how grateful I am for their constant love and support. I wouldn't be where I am, if not for all of them, so I will skate my best tonight to show my love for them, and for the sport of figure skating."
"That love comes through, loud and clear, whenever we see you skate."
"Thank you. You're very kind."
"Good luck to you, and to all of the skaters who will be out there tonight."
Victor felt a touch of relief as he left the lobby and rode the elevator alone, up to the top floor. He walked to his room and went inside, then set his things down on the bed and sat quietly on the edge, looking out, over the nearby buildings, and into the distance, where the Japanese city gave way to lovely, green countryside.
There is a whole world out there that I know nothing about. There are so many things to go and explore, and someday, I would like to get to do that. After tonight, there will be more time. I have to go back to Russia, of course, to pick up Maccachin, but after that, I'll plan a trip. I don't know where, exactly, I'll want to go, but I need to go somewhere. I need to do something. I feel stuck in place, and it's not good to stop moving. I need to be doing something.
I just wonder what it is that I'm longing for.
He laid down on the bed, resting quietly as the hours passed. He barely moved until he heard Yakov's tapping on his door, and he got up and put on his free skate costume. He had no idea that, as he dressed and headed to the arena, miles away in Hasetsu, the young man who had been constantly invading his thoughts was also thinking about the competition about to take place.
I wish that I could have done better and qualified for worlds, Yuuri thought as he soaked in the family's hot spring, Right now, I would be putting on my costume and standing there, thinking about the fact that Victor was probably doing the same thing in a room not far from mine. I'd be thinking of his hands carefully setting each piece in place, of his blue-green eyes looking into the mirror as he turns to make sure everything looks perfect. Of course it would be, so he'd leave his room and maybe we'd meet in the elevator on the way down to the lobby. And maybe, just maybe, I'd be able to unglue my tongue and wish him luck in the competition.
He had no idea that the reality was that while Victor was, indeed, dressing and checking himself for perfection, he rode the elevator alone to the hotel lobby, very much feeling Yuuri's absence.
Victor was quiet and composed as he walked with Yakov and the others to the waiting cars that carried them to the arena. He gave his fans a brilliant smile and a charming wink as he walked past them, then he walked with his teammates to the preparation area. He was well aware of the cameras that picked up his image as he warmed up slowly.
Back in Hasetsu, Yuuri sighed and climbed out of the hot spring. He dried off and dressed, then hunga towel around his shoulders and walked back to where Minako was watching Victor on TV, as the Russian skater did a final off-ice run through of his program. As he watched Victor, his regrets that had begun to recede in the warm depths of the hot spring, came flooding back. He felt twinges of anxiety and his heart throbbed uncomfortably. And as Victor waited for his turn to perform, Yuuri's anxiety overcame him, and he ran out of the hot spring inn, headed for Ice Castle Hasetsu.
At the arena, Victor waited calmly for his turn to perform. As the skater before him finished and headed for the kiss and cry, Victor stepped onto the ice, only half listening as Yakov said something he completely ignored.
It was actually so beautiful, he thought absently, that dream I kept having. It was only tormenting because he isn't here. I wish he was. I wish that I could have watched him skate, and that I was going out to defend my title in competition with him. For some reason, knowing that I inspired him to become a skater makes it special. And these dreams I keep having of skating this program with him must be a result of that. There is a feeling like magic in those dreams. It hurts to be tortured by them, but…it drives me to want to make it real.
Victor's mind remained in a small, protective bubble as he skated to center ice and took up his position, unaware that on the quiet ice in Hasetsu, Yuuri Katsuki was doing the same. As Yuuri and Victor moved together while the music carried them, Victor found himself carried into a vivid manifestation of the dream he had been repeatedly having.
It's so clear, he thought as he skated, the music was made to be a duet, and this program is made for two people. When I skate, you can feel that there is a person who should be here with me. If I perform it well, the audience will be able to almost see that I have an imaginary partner, moving with me.
I wish he was here.
I wish that Yuuri Katsuki was here, dressed in a costume like mine and moving with me to this beautiful music. It would make a lovely ice dance, and I'd be so happy, looking into his handsome, loving eyes and feeling his hand in mine, his arm come around me, and his smile make me feel like I don't know what loneliness is anymore. There are so many spaces that his presence would fill.
It would be Yuuri's eyes and his sleepy smile that would greet me each morning. His voice would be the first that I would hear each morning. We would talk while we prepared our meals together and I wouldn't have to walk alone or with just Maccachin in the mornings. We would skate together for hours every day and walk home together after. We'd share hot tea or cocoa in the afternoon and maybe make out on the sofa while we'd watch TV together. And every night, we would lie down together, and Yuuri would fill that space in my arms that would hug him tightly.
God, our lives would be so full if we could just live them together…if he would just come and stay close to me.
Victor realized very suddenly that the music had ended and that the arena had erupted into raucous celebration.
Wow, I don't remember anything after beginning, he mused inwardly, I must have done well. Thinking of Yuuri like that really inspired me.
He smiled and bowed, waving to his happy fans, then he skated to the kiss and cry, where Yakov stood waiting for him. The old man studied him for a moment, then shook his head.
"That was an amazing performance," he complimented Victor, making the Russian skater blink in surprise at the lack of any criticism at all, "Whatever you did mentally, it was the right thing."
I was just thinking of Yuuri and me, dancing on the ice together. I guess that, to everyone here, it seemed as right as it did to me. So, I guess it's not the craziest idea. It's not the strangest need that I feel to be with him. The only thing left to do is to figure out how to make it happen for real.
It was a quiet and pensive Victor Nikiforov who left the arena alongside his coach and rode back to the Japanese hotel. Victor remained in a thoughtful haze as he undressed and put on his suit for the celebration. Only half aware, he left the hotel again, to join the other skaters from the competition at the evening's gala event. But the music wasn't nearly as enjoyable, nor was the drinking and dancing as lively as the night of the Grand Prix Final. Victor stood talking with friends and stealing glances at the dance floor, while his mind replayed the night of the Grand Prix Final gala.
Yuuri got so drunk, but even drunk, he looked so good out there, dancing. This party is so dull without him here to liven things up. And even better than all of the wild dancing was what happened after, when I took him to his hotel room and tucked him in. I can still feel those hot, devouring kisses on my mouth. I remember how sweet he smelled for a man, and how good his lips and tongue tasted after we drank so much champagne!
"You look like you're a million miles away," Chris commented, breaking into Victor's reverie, "What's the matter? Five world championships and you're starting to get bored of it or something?"
"No, nothing like that," Victor chuckled, "I was just thinking."
"Ah, thinking, hmm?" Chris repeated, narrowing his eyes, "About what? The way your eyes look so far away like that, it must be love."
"I don't know what you mean," Victor said, smirking, "I'm just thinking."
"I know that look," his longtime friend teased him, "You're pining away after someone."
"I am not," Victor lied.
"Come on, now," Chris laughed, "you can't put on over on me. I know you."
He followed the path that Victor's eyes had been taking and his own eyes widened in realization.
"What?" Victor asked, "Do I look like I'm pining after someone? I'm smiling, see?"
"You're smiling," Chris scoffed, "You're always smiling. I'm insulted you don't think that I know what kind of smile you're wearing by now. We've been friends forever. You're definitely pining after someone, but I can take your mind off of that."
"Is that right?" Victor asked, giving him an amused look, "How will you do that?"
Chris pulled out his phone and called up a set of images that had the exact opposite effect. On his phone screen, pictures from the Grand Prix Final gala showed Yuuri's wild dancing, making Victor's heart flutter and skip in his chest.
"Now, that is something to get hot and bothered about," Chris said appreciatively, "He's just luscious!"
"Don't let your boyfriend hear you talking like that," Victor snickered.
"Oh, are you kidding me? He loves these pictures!" Chris gushed, "Such a beauty!"
"Are you sure you're not just talking about yourself?" Victor teased, "There you are dancing on the pole."
"And there we are together," Chris sighed nostalgically, "You know, it's too bad that Yuuri Katsuki is quitting figure skating, isn't it? We could…"
"What?" Victor asked, cutting him off abruptly, "I mean, I know that he was thinking about quitting, but there was an announcement?"
"Oh, I don't think so, but he did quit with Celestino and came back home to Japan."
Chris gave him a little knowing smirk.
"You could go to Hasetsu and ask him," he suggested saucily.
"I'm not going to Hasetsu," Victor sighed, looking at his watch, "I think I'm going to call it a night and go to sleep."
But, even once he got to his room, Victor found that he couldn't sleep. Chris's words about Yuuri rang loudly in his head, keeping him awake through the night. He couldn't sleep on the plane ride home, either, and even Maccachin wasn't much of a distraction from his worried thoughts.
Yuuri can't quit.
If he does, that ends any real chance of anything.
He sighed in annoyance as a notification sounded on his phone and he scowled at the device. After several more buzzing fits, he picked up the phone and gave it a bored look. He clicked on a message from Chris, and his eyes widened.
Victor, I thought you might find this interesting. If you liked Yuuri Katsuki's dancing, just look at this boy's skating when no one's around and the pressure is off!
Victor watched in silent wonder as Yuuri appeared on the screen and Victor's own free skate music began to play. And unlike the other times he had seen Yuuri skate, the Japanese man made each move in a relaxed and perfect fashion, pulling off jumps he was sure he had never known Yuuri could land.
This is Yuuri Katsuki?
The same boy who came to compete in the Grand Prix Finals for the first time…and failed? This is that same Yuuri Katsuki?
It's just not possible!
Look at him skate! The way he is performing, he could be on my level. Looking at this, I can't easily say if I would beat him or not.
Why?
Why did he fail before?
I know it's nerves, but there must be something that can be done about that. There must be some way around it. A skater like this can't be quitting?
No!
It's not going to happen.
He flashed back to the Grand Prix Final gala, when the drunk Japanese skater had thrown his arms around Victor's neck and looked up at him through very drunken eyes.
"Come to Hasetsu and be my coach, Victor! You'll do it, won't you? BE MY COACH, VICTOR!"
"Was he making fun of me?" Victor whispered, replaying the video, "Did he somehow know all along what I was feeling, and he did this to torture me? And now, he shows this to the world to taunt me? What sort of man is this?"
Victor's eyes narrowed and his lips curled in determination.
"There is no way that you are going to show me this and then run off to Japan and leave me again!" he snapped, coming to his feet, "Yuuri Katsuki, you are about to be very, very surprised!"