Alone on the ice, Yuri takes a deep breath. The stadium is full of thunderous applause, although whether it's because of his Grand Prix Final scores or because the announcer is explaining that Yuri's exhibition skate is dedicated to his recently departed grandfather, Yuri doesn't know.
He only had a week, so Yuri worked tirelessly on this program. It's quite easily the most personal program he's ever skated. He's almost more nervous to perform now than he was when he stepped out on the ice for his competitive pieces over the last couple days.
He takes his beginning stance and waits for his cue. The familiar first notes of On Love: Agape ring out over the speakers.
Victor was able to convince the original composer to create a new arrangement for Yuri, last minute. They are calling this one On Loss: Agape. The first part, though, is the original piece, and Yuri uses his old choreography, too. On Love: Agape has always been about his grandpa.
Soon enough, the music changes, growing lower and more ominous. Yuri stumbles on purpose. The music is frantic, chasing him. This part of the program is hard for him to do, because it's so indicative of how he still feels about his grandfather's death sometimes. He'll be at home, alone, and the residual shock will suddenly crash to him, and he's unable to escape.
He skates aggressively, almost fighting the music, but in its climax, the music wins. He does a quad Salchow and botches the landing, tumbling into dramatic-looking but perfectly safe roll until he lays in a crumpled heap on the ice. The violins hold a suspenseful, continuous note.
Yuri remains still and waits the note out. Then, a single piccolo rings out and Yuri lifts his head weakly. As the piccolo is joined by a few more, Yuri struggles to his feet. They play a mournful melody as Yuri regains his footing and begins a slow step sequence.
This part represents when Yuri finally embraced his grief. He had been hoping the vocalist from the original piece would have been available, but on such short notice, it had been impossible. Somehow, though, the piccolos make it better, like a certain shift from a human presence to one defined only by sound. Yuuri calls it 'otherworldly.'
He goes into a spread eagle, arms open wide, accepting what has happened to him.
He's cried a lot in the days since he's come back from Moscow. But crying, as it turns out, is cathartic. Who knew?
Even now, as Yuri is pouring his heart into the routine, he feels a tear run down his cheek. But that's okay.
The music gradually turns more joyous and Yuri celebrates in the agape all around him that still remains. In the last couple of phrases in the song, he extends his arms in time to the music.
First he gestures to where he knows Victor and Yuuri are watching. He's called one or the other them over to his apartment more than once this week, when he's needed someone to talk to, or maybe just some company.
Then he motions fleetingly to Yakov. When he returned to St. Petersburg, he'd thrown himself at the poor old man, and Yakov had held him in his sturdy embrace, their fight behind them. He'd handled all the details surrounding Yuri's emancipation. Yuri's lawyer got them a court date before Worlds, and assured them the judge was very likely to rule in their favor.
Yuri still hasn't decided whether he wanted to keep sending his mother money after he became a legal adult. Ultimately, it didn't seem smart to make a big decision right now, when he's grieving. He'd deal with it one day, but it's an issue that can wait.
He raises an arm to Otabek, who can uncannily sense when Yuri is feeling particularly blue and sends him funny memes at the perfect times.
Lastly, Yuri aims a sweeping hand around the entire stadium, at the other skaters and the audience as he spins. It's his way of saying thank you for all their support.
As the music winds to an end, Yuri stops spinning and, just as the end note is held, puts one hand on his heart and holds one hand toward the sky. That mournful little piccolo tune rings out. I'll always love you, Grandpa.
As the routine ends, Yuri knows it's not just one lone tear on his face anymore. He bows and feels the now-familiar pang of sorrow when he wishes his grandfather could have seen that.
The pain of losing him hasn't gone away. Perhaps it never will. But Yuri has learned that not all family is related by blood.
And his family will take care of him.
A/N: Thanks for reading, guys! I'd like to especially thank my beta reader (you know who you are) and everyone who reviewed! I'm really happy I wrote this story. It seriously changed my entire understanding of Yurio as a character. I love him so much now!
Anyway, I'm not working on anything new at the moment, but I'm trying to plan out something for NaNoWriMo (shoutout to my fellow NaNoers!), so hopefully I'll have something new to post in December. I know it's a long time from now, but I'm SUPER undisciplined when it comes to writing. And a perfectionist. And a procrastinator. It's really a bad combination. But that's what NaNo's for! Feel free to add me as a buddy if you're participating, too. I'm always looking for new writing buddies, newbies to mentor, etc. My username over there is Paige42. Everyone else... see you in December, probably!