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"FUCK!"

His profanity echoed through the empty rink. He didn't move from his current fallen position, feeling his body pulsate from the crashes he'd made over the last four hours. He botched every quad, swears flowing like a waterfall when he ended up on his ass after each attempt. He smashed his fist against the ice, ignoring the bruises that had already formed there from other similar bouts of rage. If he kept this up, he was going to injure himself. His feet were pleading with him to take the fucking skates off; he could feel a slight moisture around his toes that he knew was a mixture of sweat and blood. His calves and thighs were jelly; they wouldn't hold up much longer under this kind of assault. His mind, which had churned itself into a mess after Victor left the rink, was now a desert of white noise.

He'd loved skating since he was a boy, revered it when Yuuko first showed him a video of Victor dominating the ice, and then chased it relentlessly, trying to find equal ground with the Russian legend. He reflected wryly on the fact that skating was the only long term commitment he'd ever made. He rested his head on the ice, letting the cold seep in, letting himself go numb. He'd become so accustomed to having Victor there with him, a constant sight, his grounding, that being alone in the rink felt like some alien world. The space was eclipsed by melancholia and regret and it made Yuuri sick.

'Don't think about anything. Get up. Skate.'

He cursed again, wobbling as he got to his feet, and, completely ignoring that his body was running on fumes, worked into the speed and momentum for another quad. He failed. Miserably. His shoulder took the brunt of the impact and it hurt like fucking hell. He did it again and again until all that was left was physical pain, and the look on Victor's face when Yuuri demonstrated his utter lack of eloquence and sensitivity.

Victor didn't deserve that. Yuuri didn't think for a second that his coaching or their eros was a mistake. His consternation had ripped the word 'tact' right out of his vocabulary. But...he was worried, dreading that the things those assholes wrote would come to pass and cripple Victor's future. It could be for the best, him going back to Russia, rejoining that elite skating world he so obviously belonged in...

'But...you don't want him to leave. It would kill you.'

Yuuri clenched his fists. Of course he didn't want to lose Victor. He was only trying to...

'Hurt him. You were trying to hurt him. You wanted to give him a viable reason to walk away. You didn't even stop to think it through.'

He stumbled to his feet and found his guards, stepping off the ice for the first time that morning. His body crumpled against the barrier, knees creaking in gratitude. He took up Victor's phone, turning it over and over in his hands as though the secrets would fall out. It had stopped vibrating for the most part. Yuuri stared at the unlock screen, hesitated, then put the phone down.

'Sochi? Is that where we danced Victor? How fucking drunk was I?'

Yuuri grabbed his phone instead, still too worked up to entertain any new information, even if he'd been craving those answers since his first encounter with Victor. What he needed right now was perspective. He messaged Phichit: Hey...got some time to talk? /Y

His phone rang a few seconds after and, as always, Phichit was his usual jovial self, "Yuuri! It's so good to hear from you! Oh my god, those pictures were amazing! And that video, I've never seen you move like that! Some of that belongs on the ice you know! Tell me you're incorporating it into your...Yuuri? Yuuri, are you there?"

It took Phichit a moment to hear the sniffles; Yuuri was quiet because he was crying. The sound troubled him, "Hey, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I-I'm fine," Yuuri was mortified that he'd broken down for what felt like the hundredth time that morning, but he could control the tears as much as he could control the weather, "It's n-nothing."

"Liar," Phichit said gently, "You overdosed on those stories didn't you?"

"They said Victor would never return to the ice, he's wasting his time when he should be in Russia, I'm just an excuse to take time off, no amount of coaching can bring me-"

"Yuuri, calm down. Take a deep breath for me," he listened as Yuuri did as he said, his breathing sounding like a man who'd almost drowned, "Okay another. Good. One more," he waited for him to normalize some, "Where are you?"

"The rink."

"You're there alone? Where's Victor?"

"I-I don't know."

Phichit frowned, "Did you guys get into a fight?"

"Y-yes," Yuuri blanched, "Phichit, the things I said...I blew it. I didn't mean too. The words just spilled out. But...he's better off, right? I'm not worth the risk. He can leave Hasetsu. He'll be free of this bullshit."

Phichit wished he was there with Yuuri, "Did Victor say that? Does he agree with any of it?"

"N-no but-"

"What exactly did you say to him?"

The guilt was like sludge in his bloodstream, "I told him it was a mistake. All of it."

"Yuuri," Phichit said patiently, "Remember when you first met me in Detroit? You were so shy and you seemed so surprised when I, in your words, put up with you. I just wanted to be your friend because, contrary to what you may think, you're pretty awesome. Now, multiply that mentality by the looks Victor was directing your way last night. Was that a mistake?"

"You've never met him Phichit," Yuuri said stubbornly, "He could be thinking-"

Phichit interrupted him again; he needed to force Yuuri out of this rut for him to see reason, "Yuuri, I want you to tell me about the past month. We haven't talked in a while and I want all the details. So, fill me in on everything about you and Victor."

"Why?"

"Humor me. Please?"

Yuuri sighed, "Okay."

Phichit knew bits and pieces since they kept each other updated via messages, but this was about the bigger picture. Yuuri started off his story professional enough, a lot of technical details and getting attuned to rigorous sessions that tested his strength and stamina. Slowly, because Phichit knew it hurt to talk about Victor at a time like this, Yuuri began mentioning him, talking about his remarkable choreography skills and how incredible it was that they produced his free program together. Victor didn't act like a coach, and he was a manipulative and petty bastard when he wanted to be, but he was always himself and somehow that made all the difference.

Soon, Yuuri was focused on emphasizing how Victor motivated him, believing in his capabilities, making him feel stronger and more confident. It led into more intimate specifics about their relationship, the build up to that entertaining kiss, and Victor never asking for more than Yuuri could give. He admitted to skating his free program with a fresh outlook, knowing deep down that everything would be okay. With Victor's eyes on him, he felt like he could conquer the world.

Phichit listened to him with an enchanted smile; he'd known Yuuri for a long time and this was Yuuri 2.0 in the making.

"Now," Phichit instructed, "think about everything you just told me versus all the stories you read this morning. Which one are you going to take at face value? The bastards out there who don't give a fuck who or what they ruin, or Victor Nikiforov telling you he wants to be there, and be with you?"

"Phichit," Yuuri wavered, "it's still complicated-"

"Yuuri, listen to me. You're my friend and I worry about you all the time, especially since Sochi. Do you know why I'm so excited for this season? Because I want to compete with you. I want us to advance to the Grand Prix. It's been my dream for a long time. You have it Yuuri, you have what it takes to stand on the podium but you don't need me to tell you that. You said it yourself, your free skate yesterday was your best yet. Victor inspires something special in you. He sees you. It's definitely one of the most beautiful things I've ever laid eyes on. You were so busy reading that crap, did you look at the pictures? Did you watch the video? Can you honestly tell me that Victor has ever looked as content as he did with you last night? Find me one picture, one video, any kind of proof and I swear I'll drop it."

Yuuri knew no such media existed; he would know, he'd idolized Victor for years. It still didn't feel like enough, "But his career-"

"Is entirely his business Yuuri. He is free to compete, or take time off, or retire on a tropical island. He made a choice to take the season off and coach you and he's been very honest with you about the way he feels. How offended would you be if someone questioned the way you lived you life? How would you feel if you loved someone and they labeled your choice a mistake?"

Yuuri felt his heart break; he didn't fail to notice Phichit using the word 'love', "I'd feel like shit actually."

"Exactly. Now imagine how Victor feels. Seriously, how did you manage to escalate things so far in two days? You could've given it a week, geez."

Yuuri dragged his sleeve over his face, "Another flaw. I'm full of them."

"You think Victor doesn't know that? You told me he always meets you where you are, no matter the issues you're having. Why do you think he does that?"

Yuuri was silent and Phichit knew his point was prying his friend's defenses open, "You care about him a lot. This is different from Detroit. You actually let Victor in. Be honest, do you want to him to leave?"

"No...I don't," Yuuri managed.

"Has your skating improved?"

"Yes."

"Has your life improved?"

"Drastically."

Phichit was serious, "Then as your friend, let me be the one to tell you that you need to apologize to Victor for the things you said. It wasn't fair to him Yuuri. You need to fix this."

Yuuri's hand hovered over Victor's phone, "What if...what if I went too far?"

"Well...I think it's time for you to meet him where he is."

Yuuri's eyes welled again, "I really miss you, you know that Phichit?"

"I miss you too Yuuri. Promise me we'll see each other soon on the ice."

"I promise."

"Hi Hiroko, it's Minako. Is Victor doing okay?"

Hiroko sighed, "He got back from the beach an hour ago. He gave me the usual kiss on the cheek but he looked so depressed. I didn't have the heart to ask anything or stress him out. I already spoke to Yuuko. Did you check in with her? Is Yuuri still at Ice Castle?"

"Yeah. Yuuko says he's been running himself ragged all morning. She's sticking around, just in case. She's really agonizing over what happened."

Hiroko was sad, "I thought the pictures were rather adorable. They both deserved a good time. They've been working so hard."

"I hope Yuuri doesn't push him further away," Minako rubbed her neck; she was still sore from last night, "Yuuko told me some of things she heard Yuuri say. I know he can be...dramatic, but that was a lot to throw on the pile."

"I can't wait for them to prove those reports wrong," Hiroko said fiercely. She could feel Minako's restlessness through the phone.

"But...how are you so sure they'll don't recover from this?"

"They will," Hiroko was firm, "We need to have faith in them both."

"Heading out?" Yuuko's face betrayed her cheerful voice. Yuuri handed her his skates, not bothering to hide his enervation.

"Yeah. I'm going to get something to eat, maybe take a walk."

"Okay. We're open if you want to come back this afternoon. But, between you and me, I think you should take it easy." She eyed the bruises on his hands and arm critically. Yuuri glanced at them too; he looked like he should be quarantined.

"I'll try."

Yuuri took an absent stroll into town, stopping at his favorite spot for some ramen to full the hole in his stomach. He and Victor often went there after marathon practice sessions. It really didn't taste as good without Victor next to him. Not to mention, more than once he bent to pet Makka, only to look down and see an empty space. That stung. Makka's company was always the link in those rare moments Victor wasn't next to him. He felt untethered, drifting further into a smothering blackness where the light in Victor's eyes was extinguished by his fucking verbal diarrhea. He pushed his bowl away; it was dreadful to recollect it, to replay Victor walking away from him.

I...I can't look at you today...

He walked to the beach, the music of the waves and seagulls evoking poignant nostalgia. He settled on the sand, took off his socks and shoes, wincing as he did, and dug his toes into the sand. Probably not a good idea since he hadn't treated the abrasions, but he needed to feel connected to those quiet afternoons they'd spent here with Makka. Victor dedicated so much of that time to glancing at him, his eyes bright with affection and longing. Had he ever looked at him any other way? The answer was a resounding no. Yuuri blinked at the sky, wondering why these significant details occurred to him after the fact. It didn't matter if they were lying winded in the middle of the ice, or sightseeing around Hasetsu, or taking soothing dips in the hot springs, or rummaging through Victor's old costumes...there was never a time Victor wasn't admiring him.

What was the phrase he'd used last night? Yuuri pulled out his phone and sounded the words in his head as he typed. It was misspelled but his browser corrected and translated it. Zvezda moya - my star. His heart clenched. That, more than anything else, brought him wholly out of today's bleak abyss.

'I'm so sorry Victor. God, I'm a jackass.'

Armed with the resolve he'd been searching for, Yuuri took out Victor's phone and punched in the code. He smiled at the background of Victor and Makka in front of Hasetsu Castle. With a deep breath (because there was no turning back now), he accessed the gallery and found the folder. The little thumbnail alone left him dumbfounded. His hand was really far up Victor's thigh. "So it was the banquet," he murmured as the pictures loaded. His jaw went slack as he scrolled through the dozens of images; the evidence was immortalized and glaring at him but Yuuri ran through all the far-fetched alternatives. A body double. Photoshop. A fucking alternate universe.

He couldn't believe how many pictures there were. How long had they danced for? Wait one fucking minute...a video?! Yuuri nearly dropped the phone, he was trembling so bad. His face was hotter than the surface of the sun as he watched himself take Victor's hand and delight him on the dance floor. Victor looked positively thrilled to be in his arms.

'I remember thinking about this! You looked so unhappy at the beginning of the night and I fantasized about doing something to make you smile. I never imagined I'd actually do it. Is this...is this your favorite moment? Is that why you wouldn't answer the note?'

He actually did scream upon finding the shots of him in an apparent dance off with Christophe and Yuri. How much alcohol did he fucking consume? It was insane that he couldn't remember any of this. How could this have been a contributing factor to Victor coming to Hasetsu? Usually sane people went in the opposite direction of public displays of social lunacy.

Torn between (mild) amusement, shock, and confusion, he swiped to the last picture and went stiff. Was that...a hotel room? Victor's hand was holding...his own? Yuuri stared between his arm and the picture, second guessing what he was seeing. The dance made some level of sense, fine. But this...how? That would mean...Victor had been in his room? No...it couldn't be. Why would Victor have gone to the third floor? There was no reason for it. Yuuri was utterly gob smacked until he noticed something else in the picture, something that had him shoving his feet in his shoes, giving no thought to the socks or the chaffing that was about to happen. He ran home, his fingers tracing along his lips.

He dashed into Yu-topia, Minako and his mother a peripheral blur. He jumped the stairs three at a time, ran through the hall (Victor's footsteps in the closed guest room both scared and comforted him), and into his room. He very nearly collapsed because his body was on fire now, but somehow he managed to pull open his desk draw and produce the watch, Victor's watch, from the back of it. A quick comparison with the picture confirmed everything. It was like something switched the light on in his mind. He knew.

'We kissed! We kissed in my hotel room in Sochi. That's why I recognized your touch. That's why I felt the pull when I met you. Oh Victor!'