It DOES get less confusing as it goes, promise :) thanks for reading!

Day Two

He was practicing on the ice, working his quad Salchow until his limbs begged for mercy. Victor would've frowned at his relentless practicing the day before the Final – and so did Celestino. But Yuuri didn't care, and refused to leave the rink until he had it down pat.

Even Yurio was getting frustrated after Yuuri had tried – and successfully executed – five more of them. "You've got it, alright? Stop being such a pig and just get off the damn ice before you fucking hurt yourself!"

When Yuuri finally allowed himself to step off the ice, his legs were shaking with the effort he'd put in. Although Celestino was his coach, it was Yurio who was lecturing him.

"Are you stupid? Are you stupid? Tomorrow's the Final – I won't forgive you if you give a shitty performance, you pig! Goddammit, even an actual pig could make better decisions than you! Even when Victor was here..."

Victor.

Yuuri's chest clenched.

He unlaced his skates as Yurio continued yelling, slipping on his sneakers and putting his skates away into his bag. He didn't look at Yurio as he grabbed his coat and swung his bag over his shoulder.

" – hey, are you listening to me? Get back here, you damn pig!"

Yuuri swept past Celestino, who let him go without a word, and pushed open the doors to exit the rink. Yurio was hot on his heels, their coaches trailing behind them out of curiosity and mutual understanding.

"What would Victor say?"

Yuuri stopped. Night had fallen, and the streets were lit. The air was brisk and cold, and Yuuri's heart was aching. He turned to face Yurio, who was trembling just a bit, but whose expression was fiercely determined. "What?"

"I said, what would Victor say? What would he say if he saw you like this? Aren't you going for the gold? Why would you overwork your body, you damn idiot?!"

Puffs of steam were coming out of Yurio's mouth. Yuuri shivered. "I don't know." He couldn't say anything else.

"He'd damn well make you regret it, pig!"

Yuuri tucked his hands into the pockets of his coat, suddenly feeling cold. "He's not here."

"And so you decide to overwork yourself? To fucking injure yourself before the Final?!"

"I'm not injured."

"You might as well be!"

"I'm not. Good night, Yuri – "

The next second, he'd been backed into the outside wall of the building. Yurio's green eyes were filled with rage. He had one hand on Yuuri's collar and the other one raised, ready to punch him. His expression was one of pure fury. "Don't you dare try to undermine me like that," he hissed, and for the first time in a while, Yuuri actually felt afraid of the blonde. He wasn't joking around. He was deathly serious, and he was ready to kill. He wasn't a fluffy kitten anymore; he was a full-grown tiger, ready to pounce. "Don't undermine Victor like that! How dare you disrespect him like that? After everything he's done for you – after everything! How fucking dare you?!"

There were actual tears rolling down Yurio's cheeks, and Yuuri was surprised to find something warm and wet on his own. They were both crying.

"You selfish, greedy, stupid pig!" Yurio sobbed, shaking Yuuri by the collar. Yuuri let him. "He always says your performances are beautiful, and yet you never come to see him – not one damn time – I told him we were both going to the Final and he told me to wish you good luck – and now you do this to yourself, to him – "

Yurio was only sixteen years old. He was a teenager, hormones raging, high schooler, all that. He was supposed to be finding a girlfriend (or boyfriend, Yuuri definitely wasn't one to judge), having fun at karaoke with his friends (do Russians do that?), eating lots of good food at home with his family.

But instead, he was standing outside in the cold streets of Nagoya, Japan, miles and miles away from home, from the man he considered a brother. He was heartbroken and in pain. And although Yuuri felt his pain – felt it thoroughly – Yurio was an entire eight years younger than him.

The poor kid.

Yurio's grip was losing its strength, and all he could do was say "how dare you" over and over again as hot tears rolled down his cheeks. Yuuri didn't hesitate as he wrapped his arms around him.

The boy didn't even flinch. Yuuri hadn't cried for an entire week, but he couldn't stop the tears anymore. His heart ached and his stomach burned. Victor, his idol – Victor, his coach – Victor, his motivation – Victor, his inspiration – Victor, Victor, Victor...

His sight was blurry with tears, but he could faintly hear the adults calling for a cab nearby. The hotel wasn't too far away, but Yuuri supposed that they figured the extra money was worth it at this point. Yuuri suspected that nobody had ever seen Yurio cry before.

After all, the blonde hadn't even cried when Victor was hospitalized.

Yuuri said sorry over and over again, guiding a sniffling Yurio to the taxi when it arrived. He was still in tears himself, but willed himself to stay strong for the poor teenager. It was the least he could do.

Victor Nikiforov was gone.

He was on his own.