Yuuri

The first day of the tournament started out rather smoothly. My day was rather bland in the sense of normal; all I really had to do was wake up, get dressed, and prepare the inn for the day. Nothing exciting was happening here at Yutopia, but the Ice Palace was packed with spectators, reporters, and [obviously] the skaters themselves. Seeing as I detest and feel awkward around a fair amount of the skaters participating, I decided to forgo watching the event live.

It isn't even as if I've never been to a live skating show though, considering the fact that I, myself, was once a literal-to-God figure skater (this is my first retired season, for Christ's sake...). This tournament will be just like any other- cheesy, sappy music in every performance- loud, clapping crowds- hideously sexual costumes- and you guessed it- Victor, the show hog.

I mean, it's all the same...

Yurio will wow the crowd with his innocence. Otabek, possibly the most indifferent person to ever exist, will surprise everyone with an emotional performance. Phichit will be throwing around happy, go-lucky dance elements every chance he has. JJ with a self-absorbed everything. And Victor, with choreography most likely about love and heartbreak, acting as if 'my' departure actually meant something to him. The only performance I'm even remotely interested in is Phichits, so that's the only one I'll probably catch later on.

But to sum up everything, nothing that happens today will even matter.

It's only around noon that the tournament starts, and it's also only around noon that I finally leave the inn. Slow-paced visitors crowd around the rinks doors, all awaiting to make it in time to watch the performances.

Girls competitions are starting tomorrow; I have my money on Mila winning because from my shortly-lived time in St. Petersburg, I watched her truly blossom into an amazing skater (plus, Sara twisted her ankle a month back, so that puts her out of the way).

"Katsudon," An angry voice screams from across the street. "Where the Hell have you been?" I turn to the noise and there I see the fuming Russian punk in all his glory, cat ears and all.

A shy-smile breaks out on my face; hesitantly, I raise my hand in a small wave. "Hey, Yurio. Aren't you supposed to be-"

"Save it, pig. I couldn't stand Victor's moping any longer," Yuri half-shouts from across the road, his face growing redder by the second, highlighting his corn-cob colored eyebrows.

We stand there for a few seconds, just basking in the presence of one another. Yuri, as impatient as ever, waits not even a breath's worth of silence before screaming, "Fucking answer me!"

The glowering teen's brightly sequined leotard contrasts his red-hot face, the skates slung over his shoulder swaying back and forth as he stomps towards me.

My eyebrows raise in confusion at the demand, my smile wavering. "Yurio, I've been helping at the inn these past few days. You've seen me..."

"No, asshole, where were you when Victor needed you?"

The question throws me off guard, and it's as if a rock had been dropped in my stomach. It isn't my fault that Victor is throwing a tantrum [again]. Just as it sure as Hell isn't my fault that our relationship failed.

"What are you even talking about?" I ask evenly. "He left, not me."

His angry glare falters, some foreign, confused emotion crosses his face, "Victor's headstrong. Impulsive. He didn't mean-"

"Yurio, stay out of our... our problem. What do you want me to say? Victor ended our relationship. Terminated it. How else should I explain it?" I hiss, my friendly pretense dropping entirely. "At one point I loved him, but now I know him leaving was for the best."

Instead of getting angrier, Yuri kinda just stands there, taking everything I just said in. His cheeks, only a few minutes ago were scarlet as a rose, slowly fade to a pristine-paper shade.

Looking lost, he fumbles around for a few seconds, before finally coming up with an ever-so-brilliant reply.

Shifting from one foot to the other, Yuri looks oddly upset, as if our relationship actually meant something to him. Barely even audible, I somehow make out his mumbled-up answer of, "So? Fix it."

Turning away, I look at the cracked, mossy sidewalk. My heart dropping to my feet, somehow I realize Victor and I could've never lasted. Not with his impulses and not with my insecurity. Making my mind and breaking my heart even more, I only then come to final realization.

"There's nothing to fix."

(I low key want to have a Yurio perspective following this, but alas, I will not because of this story's formatting)

Victor

Getting hit in the head with a frying pan is never a pleasant experience, no matter who does the hitting. Coincidentally, when Mari hits me— not once, but three times— with her pan, I just about pass out.

Unfazed by the short beating, Chris turns to her nonchalantly and explains, "Yuuri is a stripper, and Victor is freaking out because he still has feelings for him." His soft, hazel irises don't blink as he stares her dead in the eyes. Not an ounce of remorse given while he paraphrases my mini heart attack over 'Eros' pole dancing.

Silence falls for a moment before she just about loses it. Irk and hatred fade out from her expression, while she tries to process everything said with remorse crossing her face.

"What do you mean Yuuri is a stripper?" Mari finally asks, her glare faltering slightly, a slightly shocked emotion filters across her face. Ignoring Chris' comment about my love for Yuuri, she momentarily flips over the idea of Yuuri pole dancing.

"That... Can't be..." Her soft voice panics slightly, before slapping me again. "Screw off, you lying—!" Back to the Victor I love qr hung, she starts throwing a well-served bitch fit.

Chris looks mortified as she continues spewing off curses my way— her one-sided shouting match only expressing a small bit of her hatred for me.

Unsure of what to say in return to her fit of rage, I just stand there awkwardly. Coming to my rescue, one of the novice skaters puked in the onsen so she was whisked away to clean it up.

As guilty as I feel, I'm glad someone other than Chris and I know of Eros. Because now at least she can stop him from landing himself a bad customer.

It's nearing midmorning as I watch Georgi stretch and listen as Yakov scolds him for being late to warm-ups. My heart aches as I observe them, their coaching-student dynamic very much the same as its been for over a decade. That strange dynamic is something I long for, something that never fully happened between Yuuri and I. Perhaps our relationship took off too quick, perhaps that's why I fled from the engagement so fast. Maybe if we took it slow— as coach and student— then maybe we'd still be together...

I normally strive for excellence. Just the very thought of skating competitions brings me head over heels— this is what I live for. However, with the whole Yuuri-Eros situation, I'm not sure how I feel today.

I miss him the way I miss the ice.

And perhaps that's why I failed to notice Yuri leave warm-ups.

And then failed to notice him slink back in the room, twenty minutes later, growling the whole way through.

And then continually failed to notice him sulk and glare daggers at me.

But hey, no one can really blame me; everyone knows I'm an airhead.

Yuri's eyes, burning the back of my head, twitch as he brings his leg to his head midstretch. Nostrils flare as he plans murderous, teenage deeds.

Little do I know, but tiny Yura finally uncovered the truth to my failed romance.

And that I'm a lying hoebag.

A solid hour passes since warm-ups started, and there I sit, watching floozy-like men, glide across ice in the middle of an obnoxiously-lit stadium.

Billy Joel's, "We Didn't Start the Fire" is blasting on the loud speakers while Yuri practices— flawlessly, might I add. Georgi, doing God-knows-what, is covered in purple and pink powder. His face looks like a clown threw up shit-mixed-sparkles on it, an absolute mess.

Still hungover, my mind only then turns to social media. A place where my heart shall forever linger.

Scrolling aimlessly through Twitter, dropping a few likes on some Victor-fan accounts, two suspicious trends make it to my eye.

#katsukiyuuri and #slutfest2k17

And only then do I realize what terrible act I committed the night before...

What fucking idiot records— and then posts— a video of their ex-fiancé striping anyway?

Huge shout-out to YoiFan, I was out of ideas and ready to go on hiatus but their social media idea got this shit-fest rolling.

Also, thanks to everyone who's stuck with this story so far and those who have taken the time out of their day to comment— you guys are the best!

Enough said , this was a pretty long chapter (by my standards, at least).

Hope you guys enjoyed this!