Sorry guys, for letting you wait so long! I know I said I'd upload this chapter earlier, but I got so excited about the YOI shit bang, I spent a lot of time on that.
To make up for this I made this chapter a little longer than usually, so I hope you will forgive me. ^^

His legs, his back and his shoulders hurt when he woke up. He couldn't remember the dream, just that it had not been a nice one. Moaning he turned to fetch his phone from the night stand; 12:27 and 8 new messages. Opening the app he found seven of them were by Boris.

hey are you free today

we didnt finish yesterday because of the ocelot i need to continue today do you want to come

the ocelot didnt make it by the way

poor creature

let me know if you have time so i can tell maxim if i need him today and i still owe you your payment for yesterday too

btw tomorrows my wifes birthday she told me to invite you if you arent busy

everyones coming so we thought it would be nice if you came too think about it

Frowning Otabek looked at the messages. His arm hurt the way he held his smartphone, but he didn't want to sit up yet, so instead he kept holding the device above his head, reading through Boris' texts again. Due to the lack of punctuation marks the content of them was a little confusing and the intention didn't make things a lot easier for him to comprehend. He got the question about the collection, also the information that the dwarf leopard had died that night - which he of course already knew - but he didn't quite get why Boris wanted him to come to his wife's birthday party. He didn't know the woman. Actually he didn't know Boris all too well either. Wouldn't it be awkward to go to a birthday celebration with only strangers?

Eventually Otabek sat up with a huff.

If my help is needed today again I would gladly join you for the continuation of yesterday's work, he wrote. Please let me know about the time and place for me to come.

He tapped the paperplane graphic and exited the chat to check out the other text he had received. The phone number was not saved to his contact list so he had only the string of digits sitting in the top line of the almost empty chat. Reading the message it was pretty obvious though who the sender was.

91617050829: I set the timer for auto deletion of the messages to 30 seconds for his chat, so no one can know that we wrote and what we wrote. I just wanted to thank you for this morning. It's not smart to tell you this but you helped me a lot, just like you always do. But still, I'd rather have you not here. It's dangerous. I don't want that anything happens to you. If you'd just go back home to where it's safe and turn your back on Moscow and everyone here I wouldn't worry so much. Please consider that, for both our sake. I need you to finally be alive and happy.

Against better judgement Otabek took a screenshot of the message before it could disappear only seconds later. Pondering he read it again and again before answering it:

Me: I told you already. I can not be without you. I beg you to accept this.

Only moments later a reply came in.

91617050829: I'll try. Please be careful. It's very dangerous here. Promise me to be careful.

Me: I promise., he typed and smiled a little. It felt good how concerned Yuri seemed to be about him.

The messages disappeared and Otabek deleted the screenshot before getting under the shower. Halfway through washing his hair he realized that he was still smiling.

ч

(He wants to have sex with Yuri. The thought is as simple as it is ultimate. He wants him physically. And there's nothing embarrassing about it. He doesn't feel guilty. He doesn't feel like a bad person because he wants that with a 15 year old boy. Because he doesn't think of Yuri as a 15 year old boy. He thinks of him as just Yuri, Yuri as a person, Yuri as a phenomenon. And Yuri is enticing, too enticing. Too beautiful. Too much of everything. And Otabek is only human.

He stands there and watches the final pose of allegro appassionato in B minor and as Yuri starts crying there are so many emotions in Otabek. There's pride: Yuri just won a Grand Prix gold medal. Otabek knows even before the scores are announced and he is incredibly proud of his friend. But there's also concern: Yuri should not be crying. He just made history, he should be happy. But on the other hand Otabek knows exactly what it feels like when the pressure is gone all of a sudden. He knows how it feels if you don't get that one jump right and touch the ice, the whole program worthless because of one mistake. And he feels sorry for Yuri: he wants to be there for him. He wants to wrap his arms around Yuri and take care of him. He wants to comfort this incredibly strong, incredibly fragile boy who stole his heart without knowing. He wants to kiss him. His lips, his hair, his neck, his feet. Everything. Yuri is so beautiful, so slender, so white, so strong. His hair like gold, his skin like snow, and his eyes, his eyes! He wants Yuri to look at him like that again. Like back then when they were both children and Otabek felt so lost and tiny and terrible. He was broken back then and it's Yuri who showed him how to get on his feet again and acknowledge his wealth. He wants to do that for Yuri now, show him that although he missed that one jump he is perfect in every way possible. He wants to worship Yuri so that he can not be misunderstood: with absolute devotion. His throat is dry and his breath shallow as he watches Yuri get up from his knees again and wave to the audience with a perfect slender arm, long fragile fingers. Otabek's heart beats heavy in his chest. He wants him. He wants him so much.)

The memory had come suddenly as Otabek stood in front of the small bathroom mirror topless, scrutinizing the scars on his skin. He had always had his doubts about his body, all his life. His skin having a weird olive shimmer and being of small built, his lashes a little too long and a little too black. Athletic, but not exactly impressive, that's how he had always seen himself and more than anything way too mediocre to stand a chance with Yuri Plisetsky. The tables had turned, but for both of them. He had grown in the coma and although he was not exactly tall still, he hadn't remained too small either. The training had done him well, too, his chest and shoulders broader and his overall shape way more muscular than he had been back when he had still skated. The melee exercises made him look like he wasn't someone to mess with, the scars adding to the impression as well as the tattoo on the upper side of his lower right arm. He could see why people called him attractive, but despite all the masculine charisma, looking in the mirror he saw the same stoic, awkward Otabek who had hopelessly fallen in love with the most beautiful creature in this world 10 years ago.

A creature who had become even more beautiful in the meantime. He hadn't noticed this morning but the more he thought about it the more he realized that he still felt attracted to Yuri the very same way as he had years before - if not more! He didn't feel like Yuri felt something comparable for him, he most likely only still saw him as a friend, but recalling how the silk-covered ribs and hip bone had felt under his yearning fingers his heartbeat sped up. No wonder Yuri had been popular starring in those videos Otabek had heard about. He was not only stunningly beautiful, like he had been years before, no, he was what Otabek could only describe as sinful. His long, slender legs, the gold-spun hair, the silky lips and shimmering eyes; the way he moved unconsciously gracefully, elegant in every ever so unremarkable movement, it enchanted Otabek beyond measures. Yes, he had wanted Yuri before his coma - he wanted him ten times more now.

The fact that he by far wasn't the only one feeling like this made his want taste bitter though. Otabek saw his eyebrows move into a frown when in his head the terms for what Yuri had performed echoed like a curse. Cross-dressing and fetish, that was what Oleg had mentioned in the club and Yuri himself had added more: roleplay, bondage, gang bangs, he had even mentiond strangling. Never having been one for adult videos, only ever fantasizing about the Russian Fairy in the most respectful way his hormones had allowed him to, Otabek could only vaguely imagine what that meant. It was clear though that you could not earn a fortune, like Yuri had called it, with loving kisses and gentle caressing. And although Otabek could not even picture what Yuri had been through it hurt that he had pushed himself so far, bringing his body on the edge of self-abandonment for money.

And what he had spent the money for! By now Otabek only knew about speed, marihuana and cocaine, but he couldn't say for sure if that was all. It must have been a lot though if he had acted in so many videos, being paid as fairly as he had stated to have been. What else than drugs would he have spent all the money on if he had been accommodated in a hotel and dressed by the woman who had scouted him? What else could he have spent so much money on? What-

There was a sudden pressure on his chest, like a hammer hitting his sternum and pressing the breath out of his lungs.

That was how choking must feel like: wanting, trying, needing to breathe and not being able to. Obviously it didn't necessarily take a physical impact to let that happen. Obviously in his case it was enough to come to realize that the boy he loved had sold his body and his soul in order to pay his hospital bills. It was not more than a mere suspicion, but it made more sense the more Otabek allowed his thoughts to assemble until he could only hold himself upright by pressing his trembling hands onto the porcelain of the sink.

It was his fault. It must be. There was no other explanation than that Yuri had kept him alive for such a long time by allowing this excruciating perish to tear him into pieces. Forced to endure humiliation both physically and mentally, willing to let strangers treat him like a toy and worse, hurting him, staining him, raping him, all so that the machines that made Otabek breathe and his heart beat would be kept running until the day he either woke from the coma or eventually died… All the pain and fear and abuse that Yuri had gone through, it crushed Otabek. The red crept into his vision as he tried to breathe. Everything hurt. He couldn't think anymore. Just feel. Only feel. So much pain, his own and Yuri's, such terrible pain. He clenched his teeth until he thought they might break. His hands pressed against the sink so hard he expected it to break from the wall and from the pipes or his shoulders giving in under the force, the wound on his right hand burning. He squint his eyes shut to not see the red, nor his mirror image. This mirror image that showed the man who was the cause of all this.

His breath made his throat rattle like it had when he had first tried and breathed without the machine. Then, very slowly, the pain vanished, but only stepping aside for a feeling of guilt he had not known he was capable of. It took him a minute to force his eyes open to look at his mirror image.

What he saw scared him. It was a young man with a desperate frown, the jaws clenched, the complexion pale despite the olive tan. He was attractive although his lashes were a little too long and a little too black and there were scars. Many scars. One splitting his left eyebrow where a fist blow had hit him. One running alongside the left jaw bone, shimmering in the light of the lamp. One that was proof of a laceration that must have made his lower lip bleed like crazy. One on the back of his nose where a kick with a metal capped boot had left the bone broken. All those and the acne scars on his attractively high cheek bones. All those and the ones on his torso and arms and legs and those not visible. The one on his shoulder blade, from the knife and the one under his jet black, long, wet, tousled hair that was the remain of the kick that had almost killed him. He saw a broken man, with dark, sad eyes. But this man was alive. He had survived. And it was all thanks to Yuri.

He owed him, that became clear to Otabek in this very moment. He owed him his life, more than he had known until now. The promise he had made to Yuri peeled itself from the pain in his chest. Only half an hour ago he had promised Yuri to be careful, because it was dangerous. His life was in danger. This life that was no longer only his own. Not after all Yuri had endured to keep him alive. He had promised to be careful but he knew that only moments ago he had been ready to sacrifice himself for Yuri. He would have done anything for this boy, had gladly been reckless if just to do it for Yuri. But how could he now? Now that he knew about the hell Yuri had gone through to keep this scarred body alive, to keep this miserable organs working not knowing if Otabek would even make it in the end. No wonder he had turned to take drugs, to numb the pain and deafen the indignity. No wonder he had fled into Anatolij Orlov's arms, if only to leave this agony behind.

Otabek owed him. More than he could ever repay him. More than he could ever give. But he was willing to give. Everything he had. And he'd do it with responsibility now. He'd take care of this life that Yuri had gifted him by sacrificing himself. He'd take care of them, both of them. He owed Yuri. Everything.

I promise, Yuri., he typed, back in his room. He meant it like never before.

к

"You look like you're in a bad mood today", Boris said, the cigarette between his lips half gone already despite the no-smoking rule. "But then again you alway look like you're in a bad mood." He chuckled and pulled the black Audi out of the parking lot and into the early evening traffic before Otabek even had time to buckle the seat belt.

"Just sore muscles", Otabek murmured and plucked his own pack of cigarettes from the inside pocket of his suit, but instead of taking one out he looked down on the small cardboard box. He owed Yuri his life. He couldn't endanger it by poisoning himself. With a huff he put it back in the pocket and leaned back in the seat.

"Ah, I see, you sure seem to do a lot of training,", Boris chattered nonchalantly, "you're pretty athletic. I used to look like that 20 years ago." He guffawed and overran a red light. "Well, no, that's a lie. I never looked quite that good. So, what do you do? Workout or some kind of sport?"

Otabek nodded. "Several things. Running and workout in the gym. Kickboxing and melee exercises, stuff like that. I went to an airsoft field today. It was the first time here in Moscow, but I feel like it is very helpful to train actual combat situations. I think I need to keep track of that to be effective if I am to pit against someone."

The field was located a short motorcycle ride outside Moscow, Otabek had received the pamphlet from Vlad at the shooting range. The teams playing had gladly allowed him to join in a friendly match. However after they had seen with how much skill and determination he played they had vied for him to join their teams long term. And that although his body still hurt from the excessive workout the night before. Still, it had been a purifying experience and he indeed planned on going there on a regular basis whenever he found time. To combine his knowledge and skill in melee combat, shooting and cross-country running had made the training and exercises make sense all of a sudden. It had meshed like the gears of a clockwork mechanism in the most satisfying way, proving that he indeed was capable of handling combat situations by eliminating the members of the opponent team one by one - he had not been hit even once.

Boris whistled. "Wow, boy, what kind of drill did they sent you through in Korea? You sound like some sort of hunting hound."

"I am not. It might come in handy though. I am not willing to take any risks."

"Because of the attack?"

Otabek flinched slightly. How did Boris know about the attack? How the hell could he know? Had his cover blown already?!

"Don't act so surprised, I might be dumb, but with all those scars it's not really hard to put the pieces together. Must have been a pretty rough time leaving so many ugly traces on such a pretty face." He shrugged and tossed the cigarette stump out of the window slit. "Left its traces on the inside as well I guess." When Otabek didn't comment on that he went on: "It's a good thing you can defend yourself though, you're a smart boy and easy to be around, it'd be a shame if something happened to you. My wife will be relieved if she hears about your combat skills. By the way", he smiled over to Otabek. "Have you received my message? About the invitation?" Otabek nodded, so he continued. "Have you thought about it? Anka would be so happy to get to know you."

"Why", he asked, pondering. "Why would she want me to come? I mean, I will come if you insist, but I am technically a stranger."

A chuckle escaped Boris' chest. "What are you talking about? We're family now, Erasyl! And everyone's coming. Maxim even brings his kids, you will love them, you're so good with children, aren't you. Anka pickled melons, she'll be so disappointed if you don't come. She suspects I made you up because all I tell her about you sounds like you are a character in a soap opera!"

"What the hell did you tell her?", Otabek blurted out bewildered.

"Nothing but the truth!", Boris exclaimed grinning. "Only that you are a very reliable, calm, honest, handsome young man who believes in true love. It's not my fault that it sounds like you are straight out of some little girl's fairytale." He turned off into a smaller street that was lined with leafless thin trees. "I told her how you drove Katyusha to the vet. It has that Hero in Shining Armor vibe to it, don't you think?"

"But the ocelot died", Otabek reminded him, trying not to feel upset by the comparison that was so similar to his old nickname. It pulled a string in his chest that Boris, someone who had known him for not more than a couple days, seemed to characterize him so accurately like his old self. Maybe after all that was just how he was. Erasyl, the Noble Hero. Maybe the name had rubbed off on him eventually.

"Yes, yes, it's a pity. I bet Katyusha was mightily sad."

Otabek nodded. "Orlov came to pick him up. He was really compassionate, I hadn't expected that."

Again Boris laughed. "Yeah, you might think that such a powerful man would become a mean dog after some time, but it's really not true for him. It's probably thanks to his wife, she's wearing the trousers at home, so he stayed in touch with reality all those years-"

"Wait, what?!", Otabek interrupted him. "He's married?"

"Sure, to a wonderful wife and he has two wonderful daughters."

"But…" Otabek shook his head slowly. "I thought he's with Katyusha?"

"She allows him this little pastime." Boris shot him a short amused glance when Otabek remained speechless. "I told you she's a wonderful wife. You should get to know her, and the girls, they are two adorable angels, not like Maxim's little witches. Don't tell him I said that!"

With a sigh Otabek frowned. The more he learned about this clan the more he was under the impression that everyone was really nice and bonafide. Had everything he had expected this clan to be been a horrible error of judgement?

But when he ran his hand through his hair he still felt the scar on his scalp and it reminded him. He had almost been killed by members of this bratva. It was a fact as real as the injuries he had suffered. That and Nad's warning: "The Orlov bratva, a powerful clan that rules the entire Moscow underground. And if I say powerful I mean you really don't want to fuck with those guys unless you have nothing to lose but your miserable life." And not less Yuri's plea to take care, to be careful. "They'll hurt you if you stay. They'll kill you if you stay. It's very dangerous here. Promise me to be careful." Maybe there was a side of the Orlov Bratva that was as gentle and domestic and friendly as Boris described. Otabek could believe that. But more than anything he trusted the fear in Yuri's eyes. The desperate tears. "I can't let you die for me again." The threat was just as real. And he'd not let his guard down.

"So, I can tell Anka you are coming?", Boris said with a bright smile and Otabek nodded.

"Yes", he replied frowning. "I happily accept the invitation."