A/N: Okay, so, I tried to research Russian funeral customs a little, but I didn't really find much. And what I did find really wouldn't fit in with the story I'm trying to tell here. So used my artistic license and made Yurio's grandfather's funeral pretty westernized. I still apologize for any cultural insensitivity, though.

It takes both Victor and Yuuri to wake Yuri up the next morning. To be fair, Victor probably could have done it very creatively all by himself, but the two are being purposely delicate. It is the day of his grandfather's funeral, after all.

After a good deal of soft words and patting, they finally coerce Yuri into a seated position. Still groggy, Yuri stubbornly clutches his comforter around him, the same way Yuuri had wrapped him up last night. He probably looks like an old beggar woman, but he hardly cares.

"We got breakfast. Feel like eating?" Victor motions to the new food that's inhabiting the coffee table. "There's juice, yogurt, bagels, fruit…"

Yuri's stomach turns at the sight of it. He shakes his head.

"Yeah." Yuuri sighs. "I thought not."

Victor approaches him with a comb and a few bobby pins. "We don't have too much time because we were trying to let you sleep."

Yuri frowns as Victor tugs the comforter off his head. Victor stands behind the couch and begins to tame Yuri's snarls. It isn't the first time Victor's done his hair, but it is the first time Yuri doesn't put up a fight. He stares ahead at Yuuri, who is picking at the breakfast food, and notices he's in his suit already, ready to go.

"I don't want to do this," Yuri mumbles. His voice is rough from sleep. He can't remember any nightmares from last night, but judging by the way he is feeling right now, he may not have been asleep long enough to dream. He distinctly remembers seeing the first rays of morning light flood into the room.

"I know." Yuuri hands him a cup of orange juice with a straw. "It sucks, but if you don't go, you'll regret it someday."

Yuri can't imagine that far ahead. It goes against his one-day-at-a-time mentality. He's been focused on tackling each new hurdle as it comes. But today is the day he's been trying not to think about, and brings with it the biggest hurdle yet.

Victor is careful with the comb. "Drink your juice, Yurio. You should get something in your stomach, at least."

Yuri complies. It tastes sickly sweet and thick in his throat, like cough syrup. But he doesn't have the energy to argue. And it seems to be making Yuuri happy, so Yuri takes another sip.

His voice sounds less gravelly now that he's drinking. "I have nothing to wear."

When originally packing a week ago, Yuri had begrudgingly included a nice outfit, since Yakov has a habit of wrangling him into press conferences after events sometimes, but it's hardly funeral attire. There's no way he can show up to his grandfather's funeral in khakis and a green shirt.

Maybe that means he can't go. He can huddle himself back up in the comforter, fall on the pillow, and hide from the world.

"I had some of my old suits shipped over from St. Petersburg." Victor puts down the comb and tugs different sections of Yuri's hair to be pinned down. "One of them should fit you."

Yuri raises his eyebrows at Yuuri, because he can't turn his head to give Victor his incredulous look. "Wouldn't it have been easier to just have my suit sent over?"

Victor says, "Mine are nicer." Yuuri shrugs apologetically.

Victor finishes with Yuri's hair and leads him to the bathroom to freshen up and change. All Yuri does is stare at his reflection and mentally prepare himself for the day.

He'll see his family. That will suck.

He'll have to sit through a church service. That will suck.

People will give their condolences. Yuuri will cry. Yakov won't be there. It all sucks.

And then it'll be time to say goodbye.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Yes. He's ready. He can do this.

He can't do this.

The moment he steps out of the cab, eyes are gravitating toward him. Sympathetic murmurs and supportive smiles follow him as he walks to the church. Victor and Yuuri had purposely planned their arrival for just ten minutes before the service starts, but people still stop to talk to Yuri. His grandfather's elderly friends give him bony hugs, tell him what a great man his grandfather was, and how proud he had been of Yuri.

They're saying all the things Yuri's been trying not to think about.

Victor snakes an arm around Yuri's shoulders. He and Yuuri utter thank yous on Yuri's behalf, and offer smiles. All Yuri has to do is make eye contact and nod politely. He's barely managing it.

When they finally make it into the church, Yuri is surprised at how full it is. He knows his grandfather got along with nearly everyone, but he still only anticipated a few dozen people. There is probably close to a hundred people in the church, maybe more. And he's only spoken to about five of them. There's no way he can handle the attention from the rest.

Yuri strains his neck to see all the way to the front row, reserved for family. His mother and uncle are already seated. They don't seem to be talking. Yuri hopes that doesn't mean they're fighting. He doesn't want to be pulled into the middle. In fact, he doesn't want attention from them at all.

He turns around to Yuuri and Victor. "Um, do you guys think that maybe you could sit with me? In the front?"

Yuuri looks touched, but Victor raises an eyebrow in disbelief. "Yeah, like we were going to leave you alone with those two vultures again. Come on."

He leads the three of them to the front row, purposely leaving a respectable deal of space between them and Yuri's uncle and mother. Uncle Andrei is shooting daggers at them with his eyes, but he doesn't say anything about Yuri's bodyguards. Yuuri and Victor sit on either side of Yuri, close enough, it seems, to hold him upright. Any other day he'd yell at them and demand some space, but today he just closes his eyes and tries to borrow their strength.

"They chose a good picture," Yuuri says quietly beside him. Yuri opens his eyes and looks up toward the podium. He instantly regrets it. Seeing his grandfather's smiling portrait, the first picture he's looked at since he died (no use trying to avoid The Thing now, not when the funeral is staring him in the face) sends lead through his veins.

It is a beautiful picture. His grandfather's salt and pepper hair is combed back, and he's laughing into the camera. It's actually a photo that Yuri himself took a few years ago, when his grandfather took him to the Russian ballet. During intermission, Yuri had been bored and stole his grandfather's phone, taking selfies of the two of them in their evening wear. The night had been a happy one, but right now, thinking about it, Yuri feels only crippling fear.

He's sweaty and stifled in his suit. This tie is impossibly tight. He can feel his breathing quicken, so he closes his eyes again. "I'm safe," he reminds himself quietly.

Yuuri hears him and takes his shaking hands. "That's right," he says, matching Yuri's volume so the moment stays private. "You're safe. We're right here for you."

Yuri looks at him, feeling helpless like a child. Victor reaches around Yuri's back to clutch his shoulder and pull him close.

All too soon, the service begins. Yuri keeps his eyes on the floor, tuning out the words and letting the cadence of the hymns wash over him. He keeps telling himself that he's safe, but he doesn't feel safe at all. He can't even look at a stupid picture.

Yuri slowly registers that his uncle is speaking at the podium, but he doesn't want to listen. His Uncle Andrei may be saying some lovely things. He may even be sincere (it was his father, after all), but Yuri can only picture the other side of his uncle, the one that sneered and lied right to his face, just for the sake of hurting Yuri. Yuri tries to focus on the anger toward his uncle, since that has become his way of running away, but today it doesn't work. He only feels stressed out and tense.

Suddenly, Victor releases his grip of Yuri's shoulder. Yuri blinks as Victor stands, startled at the sudden loss of warmth. Yuuri hugs Yuri to his side instead, and Yuri realizes that Victor is going to say something about his grandfather. This is a complete surprise. Yuri sits straight up, attentive.

Victor, in his endless grace, looks right at home at the podium in front of the church. Yuri gets goosebumps as Victor clears his throat, the familiar sound echoing over the PA system.

"My name is Victor Nikiforov," he says, as if there's anyone in the church who doesn't know. Already, murmurs of recognition are sounding through the pews. "I had the honor of knowing Nikolai because I've shared a rink for many years with his grandson, Yuri." Yuri leans forward at the mention of his name, hanging on Victor's every word.

"Nikolai was the kindest, most supportive person I've ever met. He took Yuri in when he was only four, even though he had already raised his two children and his parenting responsibilities had come to an end. But Nikolai never complained. He was always one to help those in need."

Tears prickle at the corners of Yuri's eyes. There's something different about hearing the comforting words from a person that he trusts. He doesn't want to tune Victor out; he wants to hear more.

"When Yuri wanted to pursue figure skating, Nikolai scraped together all his savings to send him to the summer camp of Russia's finest coach. He only wanted his grandson to have the best. And when that coach wanted Yuri to stay in St. Petersburg to train, Nikolai did whatever it took to make sure it happened, even though he couldn't travel much anymore.

"I'd like to tell you the story of the first time I met Nikolai. It was at a skating event when Yuri was twelve. I sat next to Nikolai while Yuri skated his program."

Yuri's eyes widen a little. He's never heard this before. Victor goes on. "I assume Yuri skated flawlessly, but to tell you the truth, I wasn't watching him. I couldn't help but watch Nikolai, who couldn't take his eyes off his grandson. There was such a sense of pride in his eyes. I had never seen any other parent watch their child with such rapture.

"When Yuri was done, Nikolai had the biggest smile on his face. He turned to me and said something I'll never forget. He said, 'One day, my boy will clean the floor with you.'" Victor chuckles fondly, and the congregation joins in. When they quiet down, he continues. "It was the first thing he'd ever said to me. You can imagine my surprise."

Yuuri squeezes Yuri's hand. Yuri makes eye contact him for a moment, and can almost see the pride that Victor is describing mirrored in Yuuri's eyes.

"Well, we still have a week before we'll know for sure, but I have a feeling Nikolai may end up being right. The love and confidence he had in Yuri made him grow into an amazing person. It's a testament to the kind of person Nikolai was. He was gentle, patient, and self-sacrificing. May we all learn something from his selflessness." Victor bows his head in the direction of Nikolai's poster reverently, then moves back to their pew.

When Victor sits back down with them, Yuri can't help but stare. A single tear escapes. He whispers, "Thank you," and Victor envelops him in a hug. It's comforting, and Yuri wants it to be a sacred moment, but he can feel his uncle's critical gaze on his back. He pulls away before he's ready.

The longer the service goes on, the more exhausted Yuri becomes. He's certain that the only words he needed to hear today were Victor's. He doesn't want to listen to the priest or to his grandfather's friends. He definitely doesn't want to hear anything his mother or uncle has to say. He doesn't want to see the body in the open casket in the viewing area and he doesn't want to go to the cemetery. It's too much.

When the service ends, he says as much to Yuuri and Victor. "Do you think grandpa would be disappointed if we just went back home?" he asks them in a broken voice. He's slouching a bit, weary, but he looks at him with worry.

Yuuri immediately shakes his head. "He wouldn't be disappointed. Funerals are to honor those we've lost, yes, but they're also to bring us closure. If you don't think this is bringing you closure, then we can go."

Yuri nods, relieved. Victor and Yuuri do an excellent job of escorting him from the church with minimal interaction with anyone else, and Yuri thinks he's almost home free when his uncle's voice stops the three of them in their tracks.

"Yuri." On any other day, the disapproval in Uncle Andrei's voice would fire Yuri up, but today, Yuri feels so vulnerable that the words cut him straight to his bones. "Where are you going? After all your grandfather gave you, you're not even going to pay your respects?"

It makes Yuri feel about two centimeters tall. His uncle is flanked by his mother, who is looking uncharacteristically twitchy and nervous. The rest of the congregation is filing out of the church, but they stay a good distance away, as if they can feel the confrontation that's about to happen. They still watch, though.

Victor steps forward. "Yuri is not feeling well. We think it best to take him back to the hotel."

"Is that so?" With everyone watching, Andrei keeps his face neutral, but his words are anything but. "I wonder if it's you who should be making that decision, with his mother right here?"

"Well," says Victor coolly, keeping his voice down so the onlookers won't hear, "since I haven't seen her act like a mother for one minute since we've arrived in Moscow, I'm taking it upon myself to look out for Yuri's best interests. Right now he's not feeling well, and we're taking him back to the hotel. Get him in the cab, Yuuri."

Yuuri takes Yuri's hand and tries to pull him in the direction of the street, but Yuri can't tear his eyes away from his uncle, who is literally going red with rage.

"Irena!" Uncle Andrei barks.

"Yuri," his mother whimpers. She scampers around Victor and takes Yuri's free hand, clutching it close to her chest. "Please come with us. I had something I wanted to talk to you about."

Yuri narrows his eyes at her. "What?"

"Just, things, darling. It's a hard time for us all…"

So money, then. His mother is only sweet when she wants something.

"I don't think so." Yuri pulls his hand from her grip.

When he takes a retreating step back, she hurries to plead her case. "I was just thinking, since you don't have to support your grandfather anymore, that maybe it would free up some funds…"

"That's quite enough, Irena." Victor's voice is firm when he steps between the two of them. "This isn't the time or the place."

"Excuse me," Uncle Andrei speaks up, loud enough to be heard by the spectators. "This is none of your concern. Please leave the poor child alone so he can grieve with his family."

Exhaustion forgotten (or perhaps it's his exhaustion that's fueling him), Yuri closes the gap between him and his uncle. He stands directly in his uncle's personal space and hisses, "You have no right to call yourself my family, or to treat my friends this way. We are leaving now, and if I never see you again, it'll be too soon."

He ignores his uncle's sputtering reply and turns to his mother. "You're lucky I don't cut you off right here and now," he says in a low voice, so low Yuuri and Victor may not even be able to hear him. It's an empty threat, and he and his mother both know it. He's not even sure he'll be able to keep her away from his money much longer, if she truly gets guardianship back.

That doesn't mean he can't make her sweat a little, though.

He regards them both with contempt, daring them to say another word. It's lucky they don't, because Yuri doesn't think he'll have enough self control to keep himself from yelling for much longer.

He turns his back on them and takes a few steps toward Yuuri and Victor. He knows his face is stormy, so he keeps his gaze carefully trained on the ground. "Take me home, please," he whispers, and lets them lead him away.

When they get back to the hotel room, Yuri switches immediately into his sweatpants. He leaves Victor's suit scattered on the floor of the bathroom with little remorse, and the bobby pins from his hair are soon scattered across the counter. The small bit of vulnerability he'd felt in the church has passed. The anger at his family has dissipated. Yuri's not sure what's left over. He flops down on Victor and Yuuri's bed, freshly made by housekeeping.

He has every intention of just lying on his side and staring at the wall until he falls asleep, nightmares be damned. Unfortunately, Yuuri and Victor want to get all touchy-feely again.

"Hey, Yurio," Yuuri says gently, sitting down next to him, on the edge of the bed. Yuri's knees dip with the mattress. "Want to talk about what happened back there?"

It's annoying, but Yuri can understand why they're being persistent. "No."

There's a slight pause. Victor climbs onto the bed behind him, but his voice comes from high above, so Yuri can tell he's sitting. "You sure? I think it's probably time to talk about it."

Damn it, they're teaming up on him. Yuri squeezes his eyes shut as the wall he's built in his head begins to strain. Hold it back, he thinks. We go back to St. Petersburg tomorrow. Everything will be back to normal. Naturally, that little niggling voice in his head is dying to remind him what will happen after that, the Grand Prix Final and the rest of the season, and then he'll be right back here in Moscow with his mother. Yuri does his best to silence the little niggling voice. "Just go away. Leave me alone." Even to himself, his voice sounds pained.

Victor lets out a half-laugh. "I think not."

Yuuri, as always, is a little less blunt. "I really don't think that's a good idea right now."

Yuri doesn't have the energy to argue. He sighs. "Fine. Do whatever you want."

They sit in silence for a minute. When it becomes apparent that Yuri isn't going to say anything, Yuuri stands up. "Hey!" he says suddenly, his voice far too chipper for the current situation. "You know what always makes me feel better?" Yuri lifts his head to stare at him, almost in disbelief. Victor is normally the one to be falsely cheerful in these situations. Yuuri grins when he sees he had Yuri's attention. "Comfort food."

Yuri puts his head back on the pillow. "I'm not hungry."

"Oh, I think you will be."

Yuri glares at him. "I don't want any more room service."

"It's not room service. Sit up."

Scowling, Yuri scoots into a sitting position next to Victor, crossing his arms stubbornly. Yuuri darts out of the room. Yuri can see him digging around in the mini fridge. When Yuri glances at Victor, he only provides a mysterious smile.

Yuuri comes back and hands Yuri a Tupperware container. It must have been in the icebox, judging by the temperature and the crystalline designs on the inside.

Puzzled, Yuri pulls back the lid. Inside are three perfectly puffed pirozhki. Yuri looks up in shock.

"Are these…?"

Yuuri beams. "We found them in the fridge when we were cleaning out the kitchen, so we grabbed them for you."

Yuri's mouth is halfway open as he looks down at the pirozhki. They're a perfect golden brown, and as flawless as if they'd just came out of the oven.

"I never thought I'd have Grandpa's pirozhki again…" he says quietly.

Maybe it's this small act of thoughtfulness shown by his friends, or the stress of the funeral, or seeing his grandfather's smiling picture and his uncle's disapproving stare. Or maybe it's the pure exhaustion of four days with no sleep. Whatever the reason, now is the moment that Yuri's wall, the one that holds everything back, finally crumbles down.

Every muscle in his face seizes up at once and he dissolves into tears. He sets the Tupperware to the side, draws his knees to his chest, curls up in a ball.

Victor is instantly there, pulling Yuri close. Yuuri surrounds him on the other side, rubbing his back. And Yuri cries like a baby.

He's gone, Yuri lets himself think. He's gone. The knee-jerk reaction that came whenever he thought about The Thing before doesn't come, and he stops lying to himself about his new reality.

The smiling picture from the funeral, his grandpa will never smile at him that way again. He won't be waiting for him to come home for the summer. He won't be on the other end of their weekly phone calls, asking Yuri every detail about his life. He'll never make him pirozhki or call him Yurochka or hold him tight after he performs, ever again.

And it hurts. It hurts. It's like a rock that sits heavy on his chest and makes it hard to take a full breath. He leans completely onto Victor, unable to hold himself upright. Victor is strong and steady for him. It's impressive, because Yuri is letting out some deep, body-wracking sobs.

Both Victor and Yuuri murmur supportive things, though Yuri is too caught up in his grief to listen to them. Victor strokes his hair like he did that night in the restaurant and Yuuri rubs circles on his back.

Yuri's not sure how long they stay like that, but it's long enough for the mean little voice in his head to finally run out of things to say. His sobs turn into shallow, hitching breaths.

The instant Yuuri notices him slow down, he magically produces a glass of water and a box of tissues. Yuri peels himself off Victor's white dress shirt, which, Yuri is embarrassed to see, is soaked to the point of being almost see-through.

"I'm sorry," Yuri says. His voice sounds rough, like sandpaper.

"It's okay." Victor flashes him an encouraging smile and slides off the bed to change.

Yuri takes a long drink of the water, then tries to use the tissues to clean himself up only to realize the tears are still coming.

"I'm sorry…" he says again, helplessly, to Yuuri this time.

"Hey, it's fine." Yuuri's voice is full of compassion, and Yuri notices he's cried a little bit, too.

Yuuri's arms surround him and Yuri melts. "I just… I miss him so much."

"I know," Yuuri whispers. "I know."

Victor joins them back on the bed, but Yuuri is welcoming in a different way, a softer way, so Yuri stays in his arms. And this cry is a softer cry, not all-encompassing, like before. Since Yuri can talk now and he feels like he owes them an explanation, he finds himself pouring his heart out, even if he can only manage half-sentences.

"He was probably all alone and maybe he was afraid and I wasn't there! I should've been there, I should've… but I was skating! I was skating." He pulls back to look Yuuri in the eye. "I was so excited when I won gold, Yuuri. I was so happy, and all the while, my grandpa was dead and I had no idea…"

"Holy shit," whispers Victor.

"You can't feel guilty about that," Yuuri says firmly. "That was not your fault."

But how could he not feel guilty? How could he have been so oblivious that he didn't sense that the one person who mattered most to him in the world was gone? Shouldn't he have known? Shouldn't he have had at least a bad feeling or something?

He blubbers through some unpolished version of those questions, but Yuuri cuts him off.

"Stop. You're not psychic. There's no way you could have known."

"But… but I've been having these dreams. I think Grandpa blames me."

Victor looks surprised. "You've been having nightmares, Yurio?"

Yuuri ignores him and addresses Yuri instead. "Dreams aren't real. They're just your imagination running wild while you sleep. Think of your grandpa. He loved you. Why would he blame you for anything?"

Yuri finds himself slowly nodding along, even though he doesn't completely believe Yuuri yet. He sniffles and looks down.

"What else, Yurio?" Yuuri urges. "What happened yesterday at the apartment? With your mom?"

Fresh tears fall, and Yuri wonders briefly why Yuuri is torturing him. But he scoots off the bed anyway and retrieves one of the shoeboxes with his letters. He explains what happened, shows them the shredded remains.

"That bitch," Victor says.

By the time Yuri finishes telling them about what followed with his uncle, Victor's face is hard with anger.

"You can't listen to them," Yuuri says. "They're manipulative and emotionally abusive."

"I know." Even as he acknowledges that Yuuri's right, Uncle Andrei's words about how Yuri left his grandfather all alone are running through his mind. Even though he knows better, he can't let go of the things his mother and Uncle Andrei said to him. Why did he have such a shitty family? Why couldn't his mother be loving and supportive, like Yuuri's mother, who once welcomed Yuri with a loving embrace, even though he was a stranger?

These thoughts bring a whole new wave of tears, even though, by all accounts, Yuri should be out by now. Victor steps in again this time, pulling Yuri's head to lean against his shoulder.

"What am I going to do?" he whispers into Victor's t-shirt. "How can I go back to her?"

"Wait a minute." Victor brings his hands to Yuri's shoulders and yanks him backward to look him in the face. "What do you mean, 'go back to her?'"

Yuri blinks, tears clinging to his eyelashes. "After the skating season ends? I always go home to Moscow. But now that he's gone…" His voice only barely cracks on the word this time. "…my mother has custody back." Victor and Yuuri are both staring at him, so, in a small voice, he adds, "Right?"

"Oh my god, no!" Victor looks at him with a mix of disbelief and pity. "Is that what you think? Yura, you think we'd let you go back to that horrible woman?"

Yuri is confused. "But… what?"

Victor smiles, kindly, at him. "You're going to be emancipated. Yakov's already filed the paperwork and everything."

"…emancipated?"

"Yes. When the court emancipates you, you're a legal adult, even though you're not eighteen yet."

"What the hell?" He shoots Yuuri a baffled look. "That's a thing?"

They both laugh. "Yes, that's a thing."

It's the best news Yuri's heard in days. Really, it feels too good to be true, and he's reluctant to get too excited. "Will it work?" he demands.

Victor smiles patiently at him. "You've won gold for Russia in figure skating at several international competitions. I think you've got a pretty good case."

Yuuri chimes in. "Not to mention you have an unfit parent, you live in your own apartment, you've been supporting your grandfather financially for almost as long as you've been competing…" He ticks them off on his fingers, but doesn't mention the money Yuri's been sending to his mother, for which Yuri is grateful.

Yuri looks back and forth between the two of them in disbelief. "I… didn't know."

"Oh, my poor Yura." Victor leans forward and brushes Yuri's hair back. "Have you been worrying about this the whole time?" He smiles and cups Yuri's cheek with his palm. "This is why we wanted you to just talk to us. We could have told you days ago if we had known you were so stressed."

"Oh." Yuri feels incredibly stupid, especially when he remembers what Victor said a minute ago. "Yakov did this?"

"Yeah, he was on the phone with his lawyer for hours, and faxing paperwork back and forth."

So that's what he had been doing at the hotel all that time. He wasn't coaching Mila, or at the very least, he wasn't only coaching Mila. He was helping Yuri.

At a loss, Yuri asks, "Why didn't he tell me?"

Yuuri frowns. "We figured you had enough on your mind. Yakov was going to explain it all when you got back to St. Petersburg."

"I yelled at him." A few more tears escape Yuri's eyes. He's starting to get sick of all the crying, but he can't help it. "I sent him away."

Victor interjects immediately. "Don't worry about that. Yakov is a good man, but he doesn't deal with this kind of thing very well. I really don't think he knew how to act around you. That's probably why he picked a fight with a grieving sixteen-year-old instead of being patient with him." Yuuri and Victor exchange frustrated looks. Apparently they weren't too happy with the way Yakov acted yesterday.

Yuri finds himself rushing to defend him. "I was the one who started that fight."

"But Yakov should have handled it better." Victor shakes his head. "That's not the point. The point is, Yakov was already uncomfortable here anyway. So don't feel bad about fighting with him."

Yuri nods slowly. When Yuuri hands him another glass of water, he sips it.

"Is there anything else?" Yuuri asks gently.

Yuri's sure there is, but his mind is going blank right now, so he just shrugs and shakes his head. He feels physically and emotionally drained, and just empty. At the same time, a huge weight feels like it's been lifted off his shoulders.

Yuuri takes the glass of water from him and Victor holds him close again, running his fingers up and down his bare arm. Yuri shakes and sniffles, but the tears have finally stopped coming. His breath still catches every once in a while, as if his body has gotten so used to crying, it's reluctant to stop.

Still, the air is cleansing. Every inhale is fills his body, all the way down to his fingertips and toes. Every exhale takes with it some of his stress and sorrow. The knot in his heart slowly unties itself. Slowly, he relaxes, sagging against Victor. His eyes start to droop.

Victor must sense that Yuri's fading, because he leans them back until they're laying down. Yuri's head is in the crook of Victor's neck. He can feel Victor's chin on the top of his head. Yuuri's there at Yuri's back, clutching him from behind.

Safe in their embrace and comforted by their touches, Yuri finally drifts off.

Yuri doesn't know how long he's been asleep, but when he wakes up, the room is a lot darker. There's one light on in the corner, casting the room in a golden glow.

He lays still for a few minutes, just getting his bearings. His cheek is pressed against Victor's shoulder, and every now and then he can feel Victor's soft snore. Yuuri is still curled around his back, feeding him warmth.

Yuri's eyes feel swollen. When he blinks, it's gritty, like his tear ducts have gone AWOL on him now. When he licks his lips, he can taste the salty remnants of his weepfest. The dried tear tracks are stiff on his cheeks. Gross. He needs to wash his face.

But he's surprised to find that he actually feels better. He would have sworn he'd wake up feeling humiliated that he let himself go so badly in front of Victor and Yuuri. But right now, sandwiched between them, he realizes there's no one else he could have possibly bared his soul to.

Part of him wants to lay there, enveloped in the security of their arms forever, but he's feeling crazy dehydrated. He tries to get up as slowly as he can, so as not to wake either of them up. Unfortunately, he's failed to notice Yuuri's arm across his waist, and a secret escape is impossible.

Yuuri stirs, blinks up at him blearily. "Hey, Yurio," he says, his voice thick with sleep. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Yuri's voice doesn't sound much better.

"You need something?" Yuuri pushes himself to sit up.

Yuri nods. "I was going to get some water."

"I can get it." But before Yuuri can get up, Yuri's stomach growls audibly. Yuuri's face breaks out into a grin. "And some food? You feel like eating?"

Yuri is surprised when he answers, "Yeah," right away. None of them have had anything to eat since that morning, before the funeral. Even then, Yuri only had juice. But more importantly, for the first time since Skate America, Yuri realizes he actually wants to eat.

Yuuri shoots him a mischievous glance. "Should we wake up Victor? I want to go out. I'm kinda tired of room service, aren't you?"

Yuri nods and returns his smile. As the two of them jump on Victor, Yuri thinks that maybe, just maybe, things can be almost normal again.

A/N: Cuddle party! If it was up to me, all problems in every fanfiction would be solved with a cuddle party.

Over the course of editing, I wrote a few scenes from Victor or Yuuri's POV's, just to see, but ultimately realized the story's much more powerful from just Yuri's POV. But you guys have had to deal with a lot of angst, so here's a fun little bonus scene, after Yuri falls asleep. It's unpolished and kind of pointless, but I think it shows how Yuuri and Victor are kind of putting up a front for Yurio, and once they're alone, they act more normal. (Is Craigslist in Russia? Whatever, we're past the point of pretending to be accurate.)

BONUS SCENE:

After Victor lays the three of them down, it's only a few minutes before Yurio's breathing evens out. Yuuri frowns as he remembers that what little sleep the poor kid's had has been fraught with nightmares. Hopefully, having talked through some of his feelings will help with that.

When Yuuri's sure Yurio's asleep, he gently slides away. He's still wearing his funeral suit, and he needs to get the precious pirozhki back into the freezer before it thaws any more.

"Yuuuuuri…." Victor's soft whine sounds from behind him as he unbuttons his shirt. "I'm stuck."

Yuuri turns to regard the two of them on the bed. Yurio's dead to the world, his head on Victor's shoulder and his arm draped across his chest. He makes little snuffly noises as he breathes, his nose in rough shape from the crying.

Victor is, indeed, stuck. He stares at Yuuri with pleading eyes.

Yuuri shutters his face into a warning look. "Vitya, if you wake that child up, so help me, I am getting rid of that pole you bought for the den."

Victor gasps slightly. "I haven't even had a chance to set it up yet."

Yuuri tugs on a t-shirt. "Then you'd better quiet down."

By the time Yuuri returns from putting away the pirozhki and disposing of the many tissues that blanketed the bedside table, Victor has managed to twist a tiny bit to look at the clock.

"Yuuri," he whispers. "It's barely three. I could be here for hours."

"Hmmm." Yuuri pretends to ignore him, pulling out his phone. "What section of Craigslist would 'stripper pole' fall under? Not furniture…?"

Victor whimpers, which makes Yurio moan and stir a little bit. Victor freezes and holds his breath until Yurio relaxes.

Yuuri chuckles and curls up against Yurio's back again. In a moment of mercy, he hands his phone over to Victor. "Just rest. Answer some fan mail or something."

"Hey, you didn't have Craigslist up at all!" Victor whisper-teases, and they both laugh a little.

Now phoneless, it isn't long until Yuuri begins to yawn. He's starting to fall asleep when Victor speaks again.

"Yuuri?"

"Mmm?"

"Did I do okay?"

Yuuri blinks himself awake, pushes himself up on his elbow to look at Victor. "With Yurio, you mean?"

"You know I'm not great with people crying." Victor looks miserable. "It seemed like you were saying all the right things, but…"

"Hey," Yuuri says, cutting him off. "You did great. You helped him, too."

"You think?" Victor offers him a hopeful smile.

Yuuri doesn't dare lean over Yurio, so he kisses his hand and reaches over to pat it onto Victor's cheek. "Trust me."