A/N: I feel like I should include a trigger warning. There is reference to rape in this chapter.

Bright side: this chapter is in Victor's POV, so you'll get some insight into his thoughts.

"I can't believe you did that to the katsudon."

Yurio dried his hair with a towel, scowling. Another white towel was wrapped around his waist, leaving his toned chest bare.

"I had no other choice," I said, without looking at him. I couldn't stand facing him. I had never felt ashamed in front of Yurio before.

"It's cruel," he deadpanned. "Do you know what you're doing to him?"

"I'm doing what needs to be done," I replied defensively. Yurio punched the wall, but I didn't flinch.

"You're destroying him!"

"I'm saving him."

"Bullshit."

My eyes filled with tears, and I blinked them away, standing up. "Trust me," I said. "It's best for Yuuri to be as far away from me as possible... to have a shot at a good life."

"What are you talking about?" Yurio asked, calmer, but confused.

For a moment, I thought I could tell him... but how? How did someone say something like this?

Instead, I smiled. "You must be hungry. I'll prepare dinner."

I left the room, ignoring his stunned silence.

However, once I entered the kitchen, I found a surprise. A whole tray of chocolate cupcakes, and mittens left carelessly on the counter.

Yurio didn't know the first thing about baking... which could mean only one thing.

Makkachin approached me, whining and rubbing his nose into my leg.

"Makkachin..." my voice broke. I knelt down beside him and hugged him. The poodle licked my face, as if to tell me he understood.

You're destroying him...

No. That can't be true.

I'd anticipated Yuuri to suffer... but it wouldn't destroy him.

Right?

"What am I supposed to do, Makkachin?" I said, speaking into his thick fur. He whined again, sharing my sorrow.

I felt a heavy shove on my shoulder. No, it was a kick. Ow.

"Cut it out, moron," Yurio growled. He pushed me aside. Makkachin grunted and calmly walked away.

Silently, Yurio waked to the counter and started making tea. He took two plates and placed a cupcake on each of them. "Take these to the living room," he ordered. In a minute, he joined me with two cups of steaming Earl Grey Tea.

"I love this fragrance," I said, sipping the tea. I couldn't bring myself to touch the cupcakes, and yet they looked delicious.

"Tell me what's going on."

I looked up at Yurio's steely eyes and tightened my jaw. Makkachin sat by the coffee table, watching us. An eery silence settled. What better time to say it than this?

I took a deep breath.

"Remember that time I went out for lunch?"

Several days ago.

"I'm heading out! Do you guys want anything?"

The Russian skaters all seemed too focused. They thanked me, but Yurio ignored me. Nothing surprising there.

I looked over at Yuuri, who was on the far side of the rink, practicing his jumps.

"Yuuri!"

Yuuri looked at me and smiled.

"I want to get this one down. You go ahead for now. Bon apetit!"

"Alright," I smiled back, hiding my disappointment. I admired Yuuri for his determination. I decided I'd bring him something nice to eat from the restaurant; he deserved it.

The restaurant was five blocks away. Not too far, but still quite a walk from the rink. I reached the restaurant after a ten minute walk and sat down inside. A pretty attendant approached me to take my order.

"Hey... you're Victor Nikiforov..." she blushed. I smiled at her.

"Yes, I am."

"I'm a fan," she continued. "I've been watching your every performance since your Juniors championship. You're amazing. I'm so glad you've announced your return this year."

"Ah, thanks," I said.

"Do you mind if we take a quick selfie?"

"No, of course not." I stood up and posed for a photo.

"Thanks. What will you order?"

I ordered two pork cutlets with a side of rice, one of them to go.

"Ah," the waitress smiled. "This is for you Japanese boyfriend, no?"

I smirked. "Fiancée, actually."

"I see," she was grinning now. "Two pork cutlets, coming right up."

She waltzed away.

The man sitting on the table across had been listening to us. I turned my smile on him.

"Another fan?" I asked.

He turned away and grumbled an unpleasant phrase in Russian. Afterwards, he emptied some money from his pocket on the table and left. A waiter stopped by and took the cash.

The waitress returned with my meal.

"Here you are," she said. "I'll bring your package on the way out." I thanked her.

A blonde woman walked inside the restaurant. I didn't notice her at first, but she sat on the empty chair the man had just vacated. She was alone. She began digging in her bag for her phone when the waiter approached her and handed her a menu. She thanked him meekly and started looking through it. When the waiter came to take her order, she looked up: that's when she saw me.

Stammering, she ordered a Borscht, and the waiter left.

I finished eating and paid the bill. The waitress thanked me, brought my package, and I left the restaurant. I had taken but ten steps, when I heard the restaurant door open and someone run after me. I turned around and saw the girl from the table.

Breathless, she handed me a piece of paper and smiled. Before I could say anything, she ran back into the restaurant, probably to avoid confusion.

I looked down at the paper. She had given me her number, and her name: Irina. I chuckled, and considered throwing it away. Then I thought of the girl, her excitement, and decided to chuck it once I was further away from her.

I started walking back to the rink. I took the road passing by an old construction site.

The air was so cold...

I kept walking, turning my collar up against the wind. Just then, I felt a pain on the back of my neck, and dark circles attacked my vision. Last thing I remembered was pork cutlets hitting the ground, and then I passed out.

When I came to, I found myself lying face first on the concrete of the abandoned construction site. My muscles ached violently, especially my thighs, and my clothes had been stripped. I tried to push myself up, but cold object against the nape of my neck stopped me.

Something leaned in, its body pressing against me, its warm breath on my ear.

"You faggots deserve much worse," a graveled voice grunted. I sucked in a breath. I recognized the voice. "You're lucky I'll let you off with just this. Next time, we won't be as merciful."

He hit me one last time, and disappeared.

For several minutes, I lay on the ground, freezing and paralyzed, my heart threatening to rip through my skin. I couldn't stop the shaking in my hands, or get my breath in order. I squeezed my eyes shut and curled over, wrapping myself in my arms.

You're stronger than this. You're stronger than this. You're stronger than this.

You need to get back and act like nothing happened.

This can't touch you. This can't hurt you. This is nothing. You're stronger than this.

I thought I would never have to live through this nightmare again.

You're better than this. You defeated this. It can't touch you. It can't hurt you.

It can't hurt me.

I'm stronger than this.

But what about Yuuri?

My naive little Japanese katsudon... how was I to protect him? He would never be safe as long as he was close to me.

I heaved myself up and straightened my clothes, making sure the bruises on my torso and legs were safely hidden under my clothes. After brushing off the dust, I entered the nearest bathroom to wash up, and then started running back to the ice rink.

How much time had passed?

Only ten minutes.

It had felt like time had stopped, but apparently not.

I pulled out my phone and typed in a text.

"I'd like to get to know you."

Send.

This had to work.

It was my only hope.

Present day.

Yurio simply stared.

"The bruises..." he whispered. "I thought... I thought you got them during practice."

I shook my head.

Yurio reached out and hugged me.

"I understand," he said. "You were alone and afraid... but you should have told us right away, Victor. Asked for help. What you did... it was irrational. They can't hurt you. You can fight against them. You can get Yuuri back."

"In Russia?" I exclaimed. "Do you think anyone is going to care? And what about the press? Do you think they'll cease attacking us with this, ever?"

Yurio's face turned pensive.

"Still," he said. "The way you dealt with it... estranging Yuuri? That's not the way to deal with this, Victor."

"I have to protect him," I said simply. "I can't let him get hurt like this, because of me."

"You're not protecting him. You're traumatizing him."

I looked at Yurio's solemn eyes. Perhaps he was right, perhaps not.

I didn't know.

I couldn't say anything in response.

Had I made a grave mistake?

A/N: This chapter is slightly shorter than the other ones, partly because I wanted to end it here, and also because it was such an emotional hurdle to write this. If you follow some Russian or LGBTQ politics, you'll be aware of Russia'a anti-gay laws, which has spurred out lash against the government but also increased discrimination and harassment of LGBTQ people. This chapter was, in part, inspired by the consequences of that law, without any relation to real persons or events, of course. On a further note, my classes are starting this Monday, but I'll still try to update regularly.

And don't worry. Everything is going to be alright.

EDIT: So, some of you might have noticed that I posted this without proof reading it first... because heck, I couldn't bring myself to read it after I'd finished writing. Which is why I've went back and corrected some mistakes, hence the update.

I would very much appreciate it if you guys could share your thoughts about this chapter. What could use improvement?

Thank you all so much, and take care until next time.