Another little reflection after Episode 7. This one focused on Russian Yuri and Yakov. Angst ahoy!.

Yuri Plisetsky gasped raggedly. "Yuri" Yakov muttered. "Go take a break for the rest of the day. There's a fine line between working hard and setting yourself up for injuries."

"I have to beat that poser Yuri from Japan!" He growled. "If I can't do that, how can I make Victor come back?"

Yakov sighed. It was easy to forget how young Yuri was. He was so advanced in his career, but really he was a kid. It had been the same with Victor, a decade and more ago. "Yuri." Yakov said. "Take the gold. You can do it. But I don't think Victor's coming back?"

"Why not? If he wants to train someone I'll prove I'm way better than that sad sack."

"You watched the China cup, no?" Yakov said, calmly.

"Of course I watched it. Sure that guy's getting good, but-"

Yakov held up a hand to stop Yuri's ranting and shook his head sadly. "Not that. He's in love."

"Tch." Yuir scoffed. "It was just a stupid kiss. It doesn't mean anything. Victor is always too free with that kind of thing."

"Not the kiss. Have you ever seen Victor run like that? For anything or anyone? Win or lose, he belongs to that Japanese Yuri now. He probably doesn't even realize it himself yet."

"Victor isn't gay. He's dated loads of women."

"Hmmf." Yakov muttered and then grabbed Yuri by the shoulders. He hated what he was about to say, but it needed to be said. "Victor was a year older than you when he made his senior debut, so I never had to spell this out for him. But listen now. People will think what they want about male skaters, but you publicly date another man and your career in Russia is over." He couldn't afford to let his face be less than stern, but his heart was breaking for Yuri. "You can emigrate. Any country in Europe. Canada. The US. You can be that way there. But you cannot represent Russia if that's the kind of thing you're going to do."

Since Yakov had made it beyond clear he was serious about taking the afternoon off, Yuri stomped into the locker room. He snarled and slammed his fist into the aluminum door of a locker again and again until he'd made a nice dent and he could convince himself the stinging wetness in his eyes was from the pain in his knuckles. Victor was such an asshole with his stupid wise man routine. He'd made Yuri remember that agape, and for what? Just to remind him that everyone who ever really gave a damn about him was gone? To prove that Victor himself was never in that number to begin with, despite what Yuri might have wanted to believe? God, he'd been naïve. How had he ever thought he might be able to make Victor look at him. Victor didn't care.

"Fuck you, Victor! I'll beat your record by a year and win against that piggy loser of yours, too. Just you watch." Yuri hit the locker again and bit back a sob. "I will definitely win. Winning is all I have left, thanks to you."

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