In which time passes

…o…

Yuuri Katsuki was very, very lonely.

See, there was a difference between being alone and lonely. Alone was something that Yuuri did not understand, because he was lonely. Alone, he imagined, was whenever Mama took walks by herself after dinner, meandering along the path winding over the ocean, before coming back just in time to tuck him and Mari in and kiss them on the cheek.

Lonely was what he felt sitting in the back of the classroom; lonely was what he felt when Mari got perfect marks and he awkwardly slipped away, scrunching up his mediocre exam in his hand; lonely was what he felt whenever he got shoved around and called a balloon; lonely was what he felt after Mama kissed him on the cheek and he let silent sobs rack his body, careful that Mari didn't hear him from the other side of the room.

And it was this feeling of loneliness that found him slipping away from Yutopia one night when he was five, carefully scribbling a note and tucking it under Mari's pillow in case she woke up, begging her not to tell Mama and Papa where he had gone. He just wanted to see the moon, he said. He just wanted to see the moon.

So he sat on the beach for what felt like eternity, watching the stars swirl and the moon cry. He was bathed in the pure light, the tears, and the terrible aloneness. Yuuri Katsuki was very, very lonely.

"Oi, kid, what're you doing out here so late?"

Yuuri started, instinctively jumping to his feet and hurriedly wiping the tears from his eyes. From back on the wooden boards lining the beach, a woman was calling to him, hands on her hips. Her eyes were narrowed, her shoulders perfectly straight, her hair tied into a tight bun; but something about her made Yuuri feel very, very safe.

He sniffled, rubbing his nose absentmindedly. There wasn't anything he could say, and it wasn't like a grown-up would listen to him. The woman was pretty, really pretty, so she probably had lots of friends. If she had lots of friends, she couldn't understand what it was like to be lonely.

He mumbled something that sounded vaguely like "feeling sad" and despite being so far away, the woman seemed to hear. Her posture loosened, and before Yuuri could blink, she was crossing the beach. She grabbed his upper arm firmly and gently tugged him to follow her.

Several alarms went off in Yuuri's head. 1) This is a stranger. 2) She is taking me somewhere. 3) Mama and Papa don't know where I am.

"You're Hiroko's kid, aren't you?"

Yuuri started at the mention of his mother's name. He never heard it used often; he wasn't allowed by the inn guests in case they were drinking or smoking. But he was fairly sure that was her name. Sure enough to stutter out a "Y-yes," and allow himself to be dragged halfway across town to a little flat, have a cup of milk firmly pressed into his hands, and watch an American cartoon with the woman he would soon call Ms. Minako.

She helped him sneak back into Yutopia after he cried his heart out, admitting how lonely he was to this woman he barely knew. She hoisted him into the window, where Mari was watching with big eyes, but not before she tucked an address into his coat pocket.

"Follow what I said, and go there tomorrow after school," Ms. Minako whispered, patting his coat. She winked at Mari, before hoisting herself over the fence and dancing away down the sidewalk, bathed in the moon's tears.

Yuuri did as he was told, but not before carefully asking Mama if she knew a lady with pretty long brown hair. Mama frowned at him, before saying that one of her friends had moved back into town recently, and asking him if he had seen her. He bit his lip, nodding, saying that he had seen her after school and she had asked him to come to her ballet studio.

Mama's face lit up so brightly that Yuuri nearly let his jaw drop. She excitedly ushered him outside, telling him to go with Mari to the studio, and reminding him to thank Ms. Minako when he arrived and before he left.

He still felt lonely, after that time. But he wasn't alone.

Ms. Minako taught him ballet, and he learned that she had toured the world as a ballerina for the past few years. She had come back to Hasetsu to settle down a bit, and teach ballet classes. She was fulfilling her dreams and goals. Yuuri liked her a lot.

After a few months of spending more time at her studio than at home, Ms. Minako suggested that he started ice skating. He stared at her in confusion at the phrase, before she explained it as "dancing but on ice." Yuuri soon learned that it was much more than just dancing on ice, but for sake of Ms. Minako's pride, he declined to tell her so.

He met Yuuko there. She was two years his senior, and very good at ice skating. She helped Yuuri learn how to skate at first, yelling at Nishigori whenever he tried to shove Yuuri down. It was okay, though, because for once, Yuuri wasn't being bullied. He was having fun. He had friends.

She excitedly introduced him to all the top skaters two weeks after he started coming to Ice Castle Hasetsu, and with a dreamy look in her eyes, showed him a video of her figure skating idol on the television set.

Viktor Nikiforov.

From that day on, he decided that skating was going to be much more than just an escape for him.

He practiced every day. He didn't have a proper coach for a while, not until he was into his late teen years and he begged his parents to let him go to Detroit to pursue his dreams. He would finish college, he swore. He sheepishly admitted it might take him extra time, with the figure skating included, but after days of consideration, Hiroko decided that she didn't want her son to be lonely anymore.

He met his best friend, Phichit Chulanot in Detroit. Phichit was a couple years younger than him, but just as practiced and eager to improve. They helped each other, trying to get accustomed to the vast cultural and social changes from their home countries. They stayed up together sometimes late into the night, when there was a holiday and they didn't have practice, looking at pictures of hamsters and watching videos of skating competitions.

Yuuri admitted his goal was to skate on the same ice, the same playing field as Viktor Nikiforov. For his idol to see him as worthy competition, in a way. Phichit, to his surprise, seemed very excited by this proposition. "You can do it, you can do it! I'm sure you can! You work harder than everyone else, you can do it!"

And so after the Grand Prix Final, when he quietly murmured that he wanted to go home, Phichit did not give him sympathy, and he did not give him pity. Instead, he gave him a firm nod, forced Yuuri to look in his eyes and said, "You keep working harder than everyone else. You can do it, Yuuri. It'll be okay. You can do it, because he matters so much to you."

Yuuri let tears fill his eyes, let his sleeve fall, and turned his wrist to face his best friend.

…o…

Viktor Nikiforov was very, very lonely.

He supposed that came with his goals. To most he was an idol, someone just out of reach; to others, the great prodigy rink-mate, the insolent student, the transparent son. Even the other skaters didn't like him, he was sure of that. They all thought he felt better than them, that he had some odd form of a superiority complex. And perhaps it was true in a way: Viktor did know he was better than them. But that was because he kept placing ahead of them in competitions, in the public's eyes, in skaters' minds. So who was he to blame?

He wasn't alone, perhaps. He had Makkachin, Yakov, his rink-mates, and Christophe…but it wasn't the same. He was still lonely, and he had a feeling nothing would fill that gap. Not after…not after the Grand Prix Finals. Not after Yuuri Katsuki's name slowly started fading from the standings. Not after Viktor was too weak, too weak to reach out to his soulmate and see if he could find something to hold on to.

He spent twenty one years without life and love.

Makkachin padded in front of him, excitedly tugging on the leash as an especially pretty-looking flower (which was uncommon, if not impossible to find in the winter time) came into view. Viktor chuckled, tightening his grip on the leash so the poodle didn't trample the bloom. He bent down, plucking it from the ground and holding it up to the dog's nose. "Hm, do you like this, Makka? Does it smell nice? Do you want it?"

"Viktor, the hell are you doing."

The man pursed his lips, straightening his back and turning around to look at the person who was addressing him. Ah, it was Yuri…Plisetsky, was it? One of Yakov's other students. He was rising rather face in the Junior standings, but the pure contempt on his face would make it seem like someone took away his skates and told him to go slide across the ice on his butt for his free skate.

"Makkachin liked the flower," Viktor said, as if that would explain everything. And it did. Dog liked flower. Viktor liked dog. So flower goes to dog.

Yuri scoffed, walking past them and nearly shouldering Viktor to the side. "The dog doesn't know Russian, old man. Much less whether you're asking it a question."

Ah. There comes the old, fake smile. Oh dear, and he had been doing so well this past week…

He tugged twice on Makkachin's leash, and the dog barreled forward so fast that Yuri jumped to the side with a yelp, glaring at Viktor with a mix of confusion and anger as the man jogged on by. "He may not understand Russian, but he sure does understand stupid people!" Viktor said cheerily, waving as they rounded a corner and the teenager dropped out of sight.

After a few more minutes and snow-covered blocks, Viktor checked the time and decided that he really should head home before he was late to the rink. Worlds were coming up in just the next two weeks, and the last thing he wanted was to give Yakov another reason to yell at him. They both knew he would do well, of course, because after all,

Viktor Nikiforov did well. Always. No matter how very, very lonely he was.

And so he went back to his apartment, pressed a kiss to Makkachin's head, tossed his bag over his shoulder, and silently walked to the rink just a few blocks away. And so he practiced well, helped the others whenever they asked, ignored Yuri Plisetsky's screaming, imagined what it would be like to be in front of those hundreds and thousands of people again. Again, and again, and again.

And so when he walked back to his apartment in the cold and hazy streets, watching as the moon's tears painted everything in the faintest colors of blue and gray, he found himself brushing a thumb over his soulmate's name, wondering what it would feel like not to be lonely. Wondering if Yuuri ever felt lonely. He imagined he couldn't. He seemed to be surrounded by so much life and love, if at least the pictures on social media were anything to go by.

Yet…

Two weeks later, he found himself curled up on his couch, a hand pressed to the side of his head and the other supporting his phone against his knees. Makkachin had settled himself against Viktor, but his warmth felt only like a dull touch, numbed by the video playing on the tiny screen in front of him.

Two days later, he found himself flicking through Disney movies on his way to Japan. It was hot, oddly enough for a plane, but he kept his coat on, having forgotten to wear long sleeves that day. He couldn't concentrate on the heat or movie playing in front of him, though. All he could think of was the clean cursive barely peeking out over a beige sleeve. All he could think of was his own name, pressed across Yuuri's hand, as he grinned at Viktor during the banquet.

A few hours later, he found himself watching the blinking lights of a runway enlarge into view, as the plane thundered across the strip and slowly taxied into a gate. A few hours later, he found himself being ushered into Yutopia by a woman named Hiroko with a glint in her eye. A few hours later, he found himself brightly introducing himself to his soulmate once more. A few hours later, he realized that Yuuri had no recollection of the scenarios at the banquet.

But the thought did not make him lonely.

And as he sat in between Yura and Yuuri, the younger teen bickering about how a food dish had nothing to do with sexuality, a content and sleepy dog splayed across his and Yuuri's lap, and a smile dancing across his soulmate's face, Viktor realized that he was not lonely.

Not anymore.

…o…

I'm back! …again…

Thank you for your reviews! Hhhh they actually really helped me…I hope this chapter was okay. I'm deviating a bit from the original plan, because I'd like to focus on character development just as much as plot. ;; It's what I like best about writing!

I've slowly been falling back into the anime so hopefully updates will come better now. Any motivation or support you could give through reviews would really help me! But thank you for reading, I hope you liked this! :D

…o…