Yuuri's feet dragged him home. His heart was pounding, shell-shocked by the dramatic turn the evening had taken. Yuuri shut his eyes tight at the memory of Victor approaching him in the lobby of the hotel in Sochi. It was the second time he'd walked away from the man because, just like then, it didn't make any fucking sense and that uncertainty sent Yuuri's mind into the abyss of 'what ifs' and 'whys'. Not to mention, he couldn't remember ever having someone so willingly within his vicinity, much less looking at him with a mixture of curiosity, ease and...lust?

Yuuri shook his head. No. Bullshit. Victor did not fly from Russia, leaving behind his decorated career, adoring public, and die-hard fans to look at him in any way or become his fucking coach. He was a reject. Victor was a god. That was that.

Yuuri forced the competing impressions out of his mind. All he wanted to do was soak in the hot-springs, take a couple shots of whiskey, and go the fuck to sleep. He would wake up in the morning, and things would be back to normal. He'd skate, attempt to think about his career, and hopefully not self combust from feeling like a total failure.

All those things were clearly too much to ask for.

"YUURI!" Minako's boisterous tone set his eyes rolling; she assaulted him as he stepped through the door, "I was just about to come see you! If I'd known Victor was at Ice Castle with you-"

"You would've known if you didn't hang up on me," Hiroko rarely pursed her lips but Minako could be such a quandary, "You really need to contain yourself sometimes."

"That's besides the point! Plus, when have I ever gone overboard, hmm?"

Yuuri could write a book on the subject and it still wouldn't capture Minako's excessive personality. Any other night he would've gotten a laugh out of it; after all, Minako was practically family. Now, the joke was a tumbleweed in his mind, barely registering with his wholly sour mood. He cracked his neck, and made random gestures in the direction of his room.

"I'm going to bed. I really don't want to be disturbed tonight."

Hiroko was concerned; Yuuri looked a bit ill, "Are you okay dear? You want me to prepare a tray for you? You can eat from your room if you want."

"That's fine," he was grateful, "I'm really tired-"

"Victor!" The women suddenly squealed in unison. Yuuri felt the presence behind him and he heard the cutest bark, accompanied by a mass of fluff and paws climbing up his leg. He scratched behind the dog's ear, swallowing rapidly. The insanity of it all was ebbing away to reveal the very unexpected reality. He wished he could zip his jacket to his forehead and disappear.

"Are you also Yuuri's family?" Victor stepped next to him and winked before greeting Minako with his trademark charm, "Good to meet you."

"Good lord you are beautiful," Minako mewled. Hiroko sighed into her hand. Yuuri's mind was suddenly and very uncomfortably occupied by his dream from that morning. Of all the times for it to make an appearance.

"Well, that's enough for one night," Yuuri moved away from the gathering, gritting his teeth. Makkachin seemed unamused by his abruptness.

"Let's at least have dinner-"

"No, Minako. Mom. V-Victor. Goodnight."

Exasperation laced his voice and he could care less if they noticed. It wasn't directed at them anyway. It was all for him. He disappeared around the corner much to Victor's disappointment; he was getting quite tired of Yuuri walking away from him like that.

Minako, having regained the no-nonsense segment of her manners, eyed Victor critically, "So the reports are true? You're taking next season off to coach Yuuri?"

"Much of it is exaggerated and speculative, but yes, that part is correct."

"Why?"

Victor raised an eyebrow; thus far, everyone had indirectly questioned the sincerity of his actions, "You are all very protective of him."

"Damn straight," Minako poured them both another drink, "I've known Yuuri since he was a boy. He spent most of his time in my ballet class, and I've spent my life watching over him as he skated. Familiarity breeds comfort, you know? He's no genius but he works hard. He's a fighter. And you haven't answered my question."

"I believe he can win gold. I want him to believe it too."

Minako narrowed her eyebrows, "That's not much of an explanation. I hope you're not so blind not to realize what you are to Yuuri. He doesn't mean anything by his avoiding you. He's just scared."

"Of me?"

"Of what you represent, Victor," she swirled the drink in her glass, "so let me ask you again, why do want to coach him?"

Victor could see that the flippant behavior he'd used to breeze pass the Nishigoris wasn't going to work with Minako. He allowed himself to look back on the banquet before dropping his act a bit, "Because he asked me too."

"Excuse me?"

"He doesn't remember though. He was quite drunk that night," Minako's eyebrows vanished into her hairline, "Let's keep that between us, yeah?"

"Oh god, please tell me you didn't up and leave Russia on the whim of a drunkard. Yuuri and alcohol are a dangerous combination."

"It isn't quite that. He may have been wrecked but the request was genuine. For a long time I convinced myself otherwise. But his video..."

Minako saw something bright and authentic in Victor's eyes, "What?"

"He doesn't know it but he showed his true self during that skate. A nudge in the right direction is all he needs. I...I need him to see it."

"Need?" Minako laughed softly, "Alright Victor, here's a I've-had-five-drinks story for you. Back in my ballet days, I met someone. Tall, handsome, content to shower me with every pleasure. It was as romantic as you can imagine, as are such youthful serendipitous encounters. But what stayed with me over the years was the look he'd give me every day. A once in a lifetime kind of gaze, like I was the only thing in the world he could see."

Victor drank, his wall quickly going back up but the message and his expression were already clear. Minako topped him off.

"Victor, I don't know what encounter you've had with Yuuri and even I'm not going down that road, for both your sakes. But if you're doing this for yourself, it won't work. Yuuri hates being toyed with and he's actually a pretty sore loser in every respect. So either you're here for him or you go back to Russia. There is no in between."

"It's completely for him but...it's a little for me too," Victor admitted, "one thing I know for sure is that I'm happy to be here. I wish Yuuri was too."

Minako felt pleased by his honesty; it still wasn't a full answer and there were clearly details missing, but it was real moment and she let him have it. Here was a different Victor Nikiforov from the one lauded on the ice, "He is, trust me. He's coming to terms with it. Remember, twenty-four hours ago you were nothing more than a dream. Give him his space and, when he's ready, show him what you just showed me."

Victor smiled, "Thank you Minako. I'll do my best."

Yuuri scrolled through the reports that Phichit forwarded his way. Not that they needed too; a quick search brought up dozens of articles on the situation.

Russia's top ice-skater retiring?

Coach Nikiforov? Rumors circulating about next season.

Who is Yuuri Katsuki? How a viral video inspired a five-time world champion.

(Exclusive) Will the career change be permanent?

It couldn't be real. It couldn't. Much of it was abstract since neither Victor nor his coach Yakov had made official statements to the press. There were however many zoomed in photos of both men talking in the airport, and of Victor heading towards his flight to Japan. It wasn't proof of anything but the sounds of his longtime idol moving around in the room next to his was. Yuuri looked back at his phone as it vibrated.

Yuuri? /P

He'd forgotten to reply to Phichit, Sorry! No, we haven't talked yet.

Yuuri, for the last time you're not dreaming! Celestino's getting word from other coaches. Yakov isn't confirming much, but he's saying Victor is there for you. /P

That's insane. /Y

They're saying it's Aria. Yuuri, you have to talk to him. You can't hide in your room forever. /P

Phichit...who would want to coach me after Sochi? /Y

Apparently Victor fucking Nikiforov. /P

Yuuri choked out a laugh. He drifted back to listening to...Victor's low footsteps. Makka's barks made him smile. It couldn't be real. It couldn't.

Except it was.

"My coach, huh?" Yuuri murmured, spreading his arms above his head, "Why Victor? Why did that video of me skating Stay Close To Me matter so much?"

Something else was nagging him since he'd removed Victor's hand from his chin. The silliest thought had crossed his mind: 'I've felt this hand before.' It was impossible, he knew that on the surface, but his mind seemed adamant on refuting the obvious. He combed back his hair, taking his glasses with him, feeling the way his heart vibrated in his chest as a more rational understanding of the night began presenting itself. His lips curved up. His spine was tingling. He was happy. And he was downright exhausted from the night's barrage of emotions.

He yawned, rolling off his bed to get undressed. Maybe he could sneak into the hot springs and wash the whirlwind off of himself. He glanced contemplatively at the door just as a loud scratching noise emanated from the other side. It was followed by a distinctly adorable whine. Yuuri held his breath, opened the door and found Makkachin sitting happily in front him, his tail a blur as it went from side to side.

"Hey you," Yuuri squatted to pet him, "Sorry about earlier boy. It's been a hell of a night."

He heard rustling from the room further up, and soft whistling that made his smile wider. He patiently waited for Victor to step out his room and stand amidst the multitude of boxes he was yet to unpack. He was dressed in one of the inn's robes, and his cheeks were flushed from the hot springs. For all the pictures Yuuri had collected over the years, nothing compared to seeing him in person. They shared a much less stressful moment together and Yuuri could again swear he'd experienced this exact level of calm before.

"Goodnight Yuuri," Victor said. Yuuri didn't know why, but those two words held so much weight, as though there were a thousand unspoken things attached to the otherwise simple remark.

"Goodnight Victor." Yuuri ushered Makka into his room and quietly closed the door.

Victor took Minako's speech with him to sleep. As far back as he could remember, Makka was the friendliest dog on earth but he never slept with anyone except Victor. If his poodle going to Yuuri had been the only thing that happened tonight, it would've been enough to make him feel better about his choice to be there.

Yuuri woke with a stiff right arm thanks to Makka hijacking it sometime during the night. He extricated it and cuddled the poodle closer as compensation. He was Vicchan, except bigger, and Yuuri felt ridiculously attached to him now, a feeling he was happy to run with. Last night had been much too confusing. He wanted to start the morning with a more open mind.

When he heard the knock on his door, Yuuri didn't wonder about the intrusion into his personal space. For once, he concentrated on archiving the good, "It's open!"

"Still in bed?" Victor voice was between sleep and waking, "I thought we could have breakfast together, if that's okay."

"It's only six a.m. I'm not ready to get up yet. Plus, I don't think Makka will let me," he reminded the Russian. Victor's laugh was a thing to bottle.

"Do you mind...if I sit with you?"

Yuuri looked at Victor upside down with a kind face; last night, for some inexplicable reason, was starting to feel far, "Feel free, I guess." He gestured to the general area. Victor wanted to crawl under the covers with him. He settled for the floor, close to Yuuri's shoulder.

"I'm sorry about last night."

Yuuri shrugged, "I overreacted but in my defense, I had no warning," he paused and stroked Makka's ear, "Um, why do you want to coach me Victor? No offense, it's just a bit surreal for me."

"You've showed you have the skill to win." And the eros to match it.

It was such a matter-of-fact answer, and Yuuri felt his heart seize, "B-But...last year's Grand Prix..." He left the sentence hanging, face hot with embarrassment.

"Yes?" Victor asked patiently.

"How is that worth more than..." You? Your career? Yuuri couldn't bring himself to say either one. Victor didn't respond. He leaned his head back against Yuuri's bare arm. It was still warm.

"Let's start with a strict exercise routine. There's not much I can do with you until you're back to your weight at last year's Grand Prix. Daily running and ballet, to loosen those muscles, and whatever other regime you're accustomed to. I can start putting together your programs for this season. I have some ideas for both of them and we can brainstorm additions as you progress. And don't worry about my coaching fee, we'll sort that out when you win something. Deal?"

Victor was being so adamant, bypassing Yuuri's failure at the Grand Prix as though it wasn't enough of a reason to abandon him; Yuuri breathed out, "Sure, thanks, but I have a condition."

"Hmm?"

"You have to answer my question. Not today if you don't want to, or tomorrow. But at some point..." I need to know why I matter so much.

Victor wanted to be annoyed at the traits he'd picked up from Minako, but instead he felt strengthened by the bold statement; 'It would be an interesting conversation and I'd like him to know how he made...makes me feel, one day.' "Deal."

Makka yawned, and strolled onto Yuuri's chest, settling down so his paws were on top Victor's head. The two men chuckled.

"Will you tell me something about yourself?" Victor asked gently.

Yuuri couldn't believe the change in comfort from last night; it was like another universe entirely, "Um, I love pork cutlet bowls. You should try one for dinner tonight."

Victor closed his eyes, "Something else to look forward too."

They dozed off for a bit, settling into each other's company like matching puzzle pieces. When Yuuri opened his eyes an hour later, he was enamored to find Victor still with him, snoring lightly.