Chapter Text
‘What is wrong with him?’ Yurio was leaving and had pulled Yuri into the hallway to talk.
‘I, I don’t really know. I think he might be mourning or something?’ Yuri rubbed his hands together against the cold.
‘I’ve never seen him like this before,’ Yurio pulled at the scarf ends poking out the front of his jacket. ‘Want me to ask Coach Yakov?’
‘I don’t know if I'm that close to my wits end, to be honest.’
He grunted in acknowledgement.
‘Look, I can’t stay out here and chat. I'm sure he is on his phone again, and Yakov spoke to the press today. I’ll see you at the rink tomorrow, okay?’
‘Yeah. Later.’
Yuri watched him stalk to the stairwell and swing the heavy door open before he turned and reentered the apartment. It was quiet. Maccachin was snoozing on the couch and Victor was on his phone. Just staring at something.
‘Hey, that wasn’t too bad, was it?’ Yuri was hoping that he had enjoyed dinner.
‘What the hell is this, Yuri?’
‘What?’
‘This. WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?’ he turned the screen and waved his phone at Yuri.
Yuri cupped his hands and squinted at the tiny print on the phone.
Victor Nikiforov: Retiring?
The skating star has been strangely absent from the public since his disappointing third place finish at the Russian Championships, prior to christmas. After a year spent coaching the Japanese skater, Yuri Katsuki, many hailed this return to the rink as the return of the legend. However this afternoon, the Nikiforov’s coach, Yakov Feltsman revealed the reason for Nikiforov’s absence.
‘During the short program performance, a serious injury occurred, which has left Victor unable to return to the ice.’ Feltsman said that the injury was sustained when Nikiforov landed his second to last quad. ‘The injury is serious enough that it would see a younger skater off the ice for at least two or three years, but Victor’s case is different and he will be unable to return to the ice to skate professionally.
‘It’s a great loss to the world skating community, but Victor is still a part of the community and will have many more years to improve and grow the next generation of skaters.’
At this point the nature of …
The screen was yanked out of his hand at that moment, and Yuri was left to look at Victor’s face. It was screwed up into an expression that Yuri had never seen on his face before. His mouth was drawn downward, his eyebrows squeezed together, his eyes ablaze and quickly filling with tears.
‘I- I…’ Yuri was floundering, he didn't have any time to get his thoughts together before Victor was speaking in super speed english and russian.
‘WHAT IS THIS? Why is it that I am the last to find out about this shit? Kakoy trakh idet? You decided to come home and put on this zhalkiy dinner, and you invited that conniving little cat over here and thought we could just play happy family without even telling me about this shit? o chem vy dumali? HOW COULD YOU? TY VOOBSHCHE LYUBISH' MENYA?’
Yuri just stood there dumbfounded. He was doing his best to try and follow the Russian that Victor was throwing at him, and the more he heard he just felt all the little pieces of himself that he had put away the last three weeks, all the pieces that were broken and cracked, falling out of the little box, falling into view again, reminding him that he was heartbroken before tonight. He was falling apart as well, and Victor wasn’t able to save him this time.
Victor’s face was opening up more, and Yuri couldn’t tell if he was getting angrier or sadder. ‘How could you hang me out to dry like that, without even talking to me first?’ his voice was hoarse from yelling.
Then Yuri snapped back into the present. ‘WITHOUT TALKING TO YOU? I don’t know if you have noticed Victor, but the last week has been hell. Without talking to you? I would have had more success getting a response out of the ocean!’ Yuri felt the sadness recede for once. He felt like his chest was on fire and his throat could close over at any second, but he had to say something first.
‘I get that this is hard, I can see you fighting it every day. But you know what? Maybe if you stopped fighting the facts, and stopped fighting me, maybe we could look at actually fighting together!’
‘Fighting you? ty durak?’
Yuri cut him off. ‘YES, FIGHTING ME, DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT IS TO TELL YOU ANYTHING, LET ALONE GET YOU TO LOOK LIKE YOU ARE FUNCTIONING WHEN YOU WON’T EVEN SEE WHO IS ON YOUR SIDE?’
Victor just sat in the chair, his phone, still in his hand began ringing. He didn't even look at it. His face was red and blotchy, and blank.
‘You know what? I need a time out.’ Yuri stalked to the door, grabbed his coat, hat, scarf and keys, shoving everything into his pockets as he jammed his feet into the first pair of shoes he could, and stomped out the door, slamming it behind him.
He ran down the stairs two at a time, incredulous that he didn't trip, since his shoelaces were swinging everywhere. Every step he took made it more apparent that these were not his shoes, Victor’s were about two sizes too big. By the time he pushed out into the weather, he had managed to wrap his scarf haphazardly around his neck and face, and facing the blustery snowy cold, he pulled his hat over his ears and stuffed his hands in his pockets and started walking.
He didn't really know where he was going to be honest, he just had to get away, had to breathe, had to have some time in his life that wasn’t all about Victor.
Oh my God. He had just run out on Victor. Oh my God, oh my God, holy shit, fuck, shiiiiiiitttttt! What was he thinking? What was he thinking!?! He couldn’t just leave Victor alone like that, he could do something stupid!
Yuri turned around and started walking back to the apartment building. He looked up at it, the tall blocky thing, windows lit up on every floor. He stopped walking. Yuri’s face felt extremely cold. But also hot at the same time. He pulled a hand from it's refuge and touched his cheeks. They were wet. He was crying.
He turned around again and started walking faster this time, staring at the ground, willing his heart to stop aching. When he looked up again, he was at the rink. The light was still on inside. The big clock above the front desk said it wasn’t past nine yet. He went in and put on his skates.
The ice was being zambonied and Yakov stood with Georgio arms crossed while the skater unlaced the skates. Yuri tried to not draw attention, and went to the edge of the ice, waiting for the zamboni to vacate before he stepped out.
He wasn’t sure how long he had been skating when he saw that Yakov was standing there watching him. Yuri took a deep breath and drifted across the ice to see him.
‘Here’s a spare key for the staff entrance. Be sure to lock it when you leave,’ he put the key down on the edge of the barrier, his thumb lingering. Yuri thought he was going to say something else, but the older man just turned his back and waved over his shoulder saying: ‘don’t stay too late.’
Yuri pushed himself back out and began skating for his life.
He felt desperate, he felt angry, he felt sad, and he felt invisible. None of that was new, not really. But he felt another emotion, one he hadn’t felt for a while welling up inside him. Fear. He felt so terrified. Was he going to lose Victor over this? Would he quit as his coach? Or break up with him? Was he good enough for Victor? Could he ever skate in a way that would show Victor he was serious enough to fill the gap he left in their division? Or worse? The next time he was in competition, would he be the one going to hospital? Would he disappoint Victor so much?
Yuri pushed himself harder, growing a new routine, formulating a new sequence of jumps and choreography. Growing numb, growing harder, forcing himself to get stronger.