Somehow, Yuri survived the night - in the chaos of thoughts and emotions - although in the morning his main feeling was the disgust with himself. He could accept anything but not the effect the current state had on his intellect... on his personality that seemed completely different now. Would anyone be happy with such mood, opinion and decision swings? Yuri Plisetsky had always been someone to make decisions and stick to them, someone to choose one option and follow it. However, the current situation turned him - an adult man, at least officially - into a shaking jelly that, alternately, wished that the morning never came, and desired to run to the rink and see Otabek again as soon as possible.

It was very degrading indeed.

As for the main problem, he was no wiser than before... but he managed to convince himself that what he felt in regard to Otabek was the most simple sexual desire. Stupid as it sounded, it was nonetheless the fact - or, at least, the safest option. He had spent the last evening and part of the night satisfying that desire, so he needed no further proof. Then again, he could always control his body, and he would manage this time, too. If only that physical arousal wasn't accompanied by other sensations, like sudden heart-racing or blushing whenever he thought of Otabek, there would be no problem at all... But no, it was only about sex and nothing more. After all, it was perfectly normal - and healthy - for an eighteen years old guy to think about sex. As for thinking about sex with his best friend... well, he was sure it could also be explained somehow, especially that Otabek - just as he'd already acknowledged - was a very attractive man.

Yuri was under the impression there was something very off with such reasoning, but he stubbornly drove that realisation into his subconsciousness. He wasn't in love. Internet claimed that being in love was the most pleasant and the happiest state one could experience, while he undoubtedly felt no pleasure nor happiness. At least not for most of the time.

Before leaving, he took a cold shower, although he was aware it wouldn't help much. When he arrived in the rink - Otabek wasn't there yet - he took another one. Last night, he'd decided he wouldn't think of those things outside home. He just wouldn't. And damn him if he didn't adhere to it. Cold showers he'd taken a few times since yesterday, reminded him of that absurd training Victor had forced him into, three years ago in Japan... and now there was something good about this memory. For the first time, he thought that meditation could be of some help. Well, he didn't intend to do it now, but concentrating on one matter and detaching himself from everything else could really be of use. He had no choice if he wanted to solve this problem. It was all about Otabek... about his and Otabek's friendship, and he would do anything to save it.

Just when he changed into his training clothes, Otabek came in - ten to nine, as always. Seeing him in the door, Yuri had to suppress a moan and a sudden urge to run away or turn around and look at anything else. He felt dizzy and hot again... but he knew he had to control himself. He mustn't give himself away... and Otabek was the most perceptive person he knew... except Lilia, perhaps. 'Think, Plisetsky, think!' he told himself. 'How to greet him in the most casual way?'

"You're on time?" Otabek asked in a surprised voice. "How's the cat?"

Yuri blinked. God, what cat? The next second he remembered his excuse... his lie from yesterday. Right, he'd said he would be late today... "I got the date wrong," he replied, trying to sound like usual. He did pretty well, despite his dry mouth.

Otabek only raised his brow, putting his bag on the bench, then nodded and started to change. Yuri realised he couldn't tear his eyes off him, but quickly forced himself to look away. Before Otabek's arrival, he'd unscrewed one bulb, so the changing room was dimmer than normally; he hoped it would conceal his emotions from Otabek's observant gaze... emotions he wouldn't be able to hide, despite his best and earnest efforts. Now he realised that dimness could also hide Otabek from his gaze... but, at the same time, it stirred his imagination, which was even worse.

He turned away to take care of his hair, determined not to look at Otabek. His hands trembled only slightly when he secured his hair. He took a deep breath, clenching and relaxing his fists. Don't think about that, don't thing about that... Not for the next three hours. Ah, speaking of that...

He gulped and gave Otabek a furtive look. He had to say it now, even if he'd gladly leave it for later... or even write in an sms. But he couldn't be such an asshole. "My training schedule is to be changed from now on," he spoke and sat down to put on his skates. "I have to limit our sessions... and it seems I'm going to be awfully busy for the next few weeks, too. I'm sorry," he added and realised he really was.

Otabek turned to him with his t-shirt half removed. Yuri forced himself not to stare at his belly, that he could see perfectly well despite the dimness, and looked up instead, in Otabek's eyes. No, fuck... It wasn't good either.

"Limit... To how often?" Otabek asked crisply.

Yuri gulped again. "Once per week," he said in a low voice and licked his lips.

He was aware the best option would be to have a full month break... but he was unable to completely give up on Otabek. Until now, they would meet three times per week - three morning sessions when they could practically reserve the rink, for there were no people coming here in the summer - so the difference would be considerable... and he wasn't happy about it, but knew it to be necessary nonetheless.

Otabek slowly nodded. "You're going to train more with Yakov?" he asked.

Yuri nodded, his eyes fixed on some invisible point behind Otabek's right ear. "Yeah. Lilia is putting together a hellishly difficult free programme... Well, I asked for it myself," he confessed. He felt better when he didn't need to lie all the time. "It'll have quite a few new elements I must... well, I must master."

"I see," Otabek replied after a moment, pulling his t-shirt over his head, and Yuri realised he'd been holding his breath when waiting for his response. "Once per week... Which day?" came the next question.

Yuri blinked and then resumed tying his skates. "Which day fits you best?" he asked helplessly.

"Everyday."

Yuri bit his lips and focused his eyes on the lace, his mind working frantically. To tell the truth, he hadn't given it a thought yet. Monday would be good - the best way to start a week... But if it were Friday, he would have a whole week to look forward to... Only that Friday of the next week was far too far, so...

"What about Monday?" he asked, his voice too much timid, so he cleared his throat and added louder, "Morning?"

"Fine," Otabek replied in that concise way of him.

Yuri felt relieved. The next Monday was in just a few days... It took him a moment - he was already tying his other skate - to start and wonder about this feeling. Limiting his trainings aimed at limiting his contacts with Otabek in order to regain his inner balance - why he was so happy, thinking of the next time they would meet, then? He didn't let himself to follow that thought, though.

"Thanks," he muttered, still staring down, although he could see Otabek out of the corner of his eye. "I'm sorry."

Otabek shook his head. "Don't be."

"I just brought it up, out of the blue. It's not fair to you..." Yuri felt compelled to add.

"Don't worry about it."

Now Yuri did look at Otabek; for some reason, he felt cold. 'Don't worry about it.' Saying that, Otabek had probably wanted to reassure him and nothing more, but... For some reason, it'd sounded like, 'It's all the same,' or 'It doesn't really matter,' and that thought was unpleasant. He would be upset if it were all the same to Otabek.

He shook his head. Was he going to analyse Otabek's every one word? Was he wrong in the head or what? He checked his bindings and sat up... only to see Otabek taking off his jeans and grabbing his sweatpants. He gulped, snatched his gloves and almost ran to the exit, hoping his blush wasn't visible.

"I'm off to the ice," he said firmly.

As he warmed up by the fence - driving away the wish that Otabek stayed in the changing room as long as possible... and that he came immediately - he came to the conclusion he hadn't done poorly. Probably. The first confrontation, even if it was only a few minutes, hadn't come out badly. Sure, he'd become pretty distracted, and it'd required some effort on his part to focus on the talk, but apart from that he'd acted just like always. He realised the routine helped. Arrive, change, tie your hair, put on your skates. Warm-up, skating... If he concentrated on these actions he'd know and done for so long - more than half of his life - then everything would be just fine.

However, when Otabek joined him, his determination was put to the proof. Tight training clothes rather revealed than concealed Otabek's anatomy, and Yuri caught himself staring at him. He turned around, annoyed. 'It's not the first time you see him,' he told himself. 'Why would it start affecting you now?' Well, that was the main problem here... Still, he remembered he shouldn't think of it. He. Shouldn't. Think. Of. It. He took a deep breath and started to practise his short programme.

It was difficult, at the beginning, but the longer he trained, the better he could focus. On one hand, skating absorbed his all attention; on the other hand, it was something as natural as breathing to him. It was something he loved and could do with his eyes closed, something he would do well even after a poorly slept night and despite psychical fatigue. Maybe coldness of the ice helped, too... Suffice it to say that he managed to survive the next three hours, retaining his dignity and even being satisfied with the training. Apparently, he was really a pro, he thought with a wry smile, pulling off to the fence.

Of course, something just had to happen. When he was quenching his thirst by the board, his breath still quick after the workout, Otabek stopped by him - which was completely natural and would happen thousands of times. Yuri closed his eyes, forcing himself to remain calm. During the training, he'd managed to 'ignore' Otabek's presence, which had proved to be much easier he might have expected. They'd done so many sessions together before, that Otabek perfectly fitted his reality on this ice. Actually, Yuri thought that without Otabek in this rink he would feel... incomplete. Maybe even anxious.

Now, however, this very moment, the situation was different, much less... safe. Otabek was standing one meter from him, much too close. Yuri knew he would do best if he left the ice and went to the shower - again - but he just couldn't move. He would have to go past Otabek, and suddenly he felt he wasn't strong enough. There was no other option, only wait for Otabek to leave first...

Otabek, however, tilted his bottle upside down and said, "I drank everything."

And Yuri reacted the exact way he'd reacted many times before - unconsciously stretched his hand to offer his own bottle. Only when Otabek's fingers brushed against his own, he twitched and tore his hand away, letting go of the bottle, that fell then on the ice.

"Sorry," he muttered, his ears burning, and barely heard Otabek say the same.

He was dead sure of one thing: he couldn't look him in the eyes. For one dreadful moment, he just stood there, his heart pounding in his chest and his head empty, unable to move, even if some part of him knew he should do something, anything. Yet, seconds passed one by one - it seemed to him like the whole eternity - before finally Otabek stooped to pick up the bottle, while Yuri regained control over his body and darted to the exit. Some voice in his head kept telling him he'd chosen the worst option, but he was again - again! - overwhelmed by that irresistible instinct to flee. He was a coward and could do nothing about it.

Shower helped him to cool down a bit, but he couldn't stand there as long as he needed - it would be too suspicious and might make Otabek, who'd just taken the next cabin, peek in to check if everything was all right with him... He couldn't let it happen. He turned off the tap and took a deep breath, trying to calm down... Impossible, but he still tried. He had... he had to explain himself somehow. And, above all, he had to act normally, for if he continued to behave like a schoolgirl in lo... like a schoolgirl, Otabek would figure him out in no time. Act naturally, that was the key. First... First he would dry himself. Then he would return to the changing room. He would look straight ahead and not avert his eyes. And he wouldn't blush, damn him!

In a firm move, he grabbed the towel to dry his hair and the rest of his body, trying to think of Japanese waterfalls. He could make it, he could make it... He wouldn't reveal anything. He was Ice Tiger, and he really could control himself. He just mustn't think of Otabek in the next cabin, everything but that... Fuck... Waterfalls...!

He wrapped the towel around his hips and ran to the changing room to put his clothes on before Otabek returned. His hands trembled just a bit when he dressed. He felt like running away immediately... but he couldn't; he would be finished if he did so. He focused on combing his hair and tried to calm down his heart, tried to prepare himself for the next fifteen minutes. Otabek would come back. He would enter through that door and then dress himself. Then he would pack his bag. Yuri had seen it so many times before... had that image in his head. Normally, they would talk about the training, exchange remarks, then decide where to go eat. Today... today they would talk, too... but Yuri could forget eating, for his stomach was like a tight knot. It appeared he couldn't stay with Otabek too long; three hours was his limit - and it was three hours when each of them focused on their own activity.

He stared at his hands; their tremble stopped almost completely. He lifted the right one and rubbed its back, that Otabek had stroked just a moment ago. He thought he could still feel the tingling in it, and his heart sped up dangerously again. It was that very moment that Otabek chose to enter the room, and Yuri forced himself to look at him. Although the light was poor, he could still very well see the water drops on Otabek's skin, as well as those dripping from his hair. He didn't avert his eyes, still rubbing his hand. Otabek fixed his eyes on this movement before giving him a questioning look.

"In a triple Axel... I jumped a bit too close to the fence and hit my hand," Yuri said without thinking and then waved said hand. "It was a bit numb, but now it's gone already. Nothing serious."

"I didn't notice," Otabek responded, frowning.

Yuri shrugged and started to pack his things. "That aside, I'm satisfied. I think I start to grasp what this programme is about," he said casually.

"I remember you saying yesterday you've already mastered it...?"

Inwardly, Yuri cursed Otabek's good memory... although he felt strangely pleased that Otabek remembered his words. "Well, I admit it may have been slightly premature on my part... You saw that bloody step sequence in the middle, didn't you? To tell the truth, I don't really know how I should skate it. I think I first have to try every possible interpretation in order to decide. Of course, Lilia wouldn't tell me how she sees it..." he muttered in a complaining manner. "How about you?"

"Fine," Otabek replied shortly. "I'm slowly moving forward."

"Are you really going to have a quad Lutz in your short programme?" Yuri asked in a slight disbelief.

"Once I learn to execute it clearly. For now, it's pretty lousy. I manage to land no more than half of them."

"Well, I think it's just a matter of time," Yuri replied with conviction, glancing over his shoulder. "I wish I could say the same, " he added mockingly and then felt like smiling. "Forget the landing, I think I managed to have enough rotation maybe two or three times, no more..."

Otabek's eyes filled with warmth. "You'll do it sooner or later."

"I'd rather sooner," Yuri said and giggled.

They really didn't have any trouble talking about skating - and he probably shouldn't be as surprised as he was upon realising it. Training had come out nicely, even though he'd fretted about it beforehand. He recollected his thought from yesterday: as long as he had his skates, he would manage - and it was really so. He enjoyed that knowledge and comfort it gave. Then, however, he remembered the situation from the ice... Such situations could happen from now on, too, so he really needed to limit their meetings - at least for long enough that being close to Otabek stopped affecting him this way. He focused his eyes on the bag again and zipped it up. Even if he was tempted into forgetting such precautions, he just couldn't - if he wasn't prepared to forget about Otabek. There was one thing he was certain of as he was of his own name: if Otabek learned about his, say, quandaries, it would mean the definite end of their friendship.

"Are we going to eat?" he heard in the next moment.

"Sorry, I must go," he replied, although he wished nothing more than stay and spend one more hour with Otabek. After all, what might happen in the restaurant? asked some carefree voice in his mind. He answered it at once: pretty much. It was no point to take a risk.

Realisation that Yuri Plisetsky ceased being a man who took a risk, was unpleasant. He lowered his head and clenched his fists.

"Fine," Otabek said like he used to, and Yuri felt even worse.

He raised his eyes and looked with a sudden determination. He didn't intend to change completely. He didn't want to. He didn't want to grow up yet and always act wisely, forbidding himself any spontaneity.

"Next time," he said and then gulped. He had a whole week to prepare himself. "We'll go to eat next time... On Monday."

Otabek stared at him for a while, before nodding. "All right," he replied, making Yuri extremely happy.

Yuri took the bag and turned with a smile. "Then, see you on Monday!" he called and ran to the metro station, feeling life was wonderful, after all.

He was in too good mood to reproach himself for such sentimental rubbish.