Chapter Text
Victor felt okay. In fact he was probably happy. But he didn't want to think too hard about it, just in case this was the only happy time he got. He was certain that once he cooled down and thought about it, after flunking out of the russian championships in his comeback routine, he was certain that everything would crash. Because even though he felt okay now, his knee was really hurting.
The podium was overwhelming, everyone cheered for him and it was almost embarrassing, that the bronze medal winner garnered more applause than the gold medal winner. And now christmas was on it's way. Yuri had said no gifts for each other this year. Which Victor guessed he was okay with.
The press was pushing forward for interviews, and normally he would have let them, but there was a face in the throng of people that he was searching for. He said what he could to appease the journalists shoving microphones in his face, but he took off as quickly as he could.
He knew that Yuri had been watching and would be worried, but Yakov had been crystal clear. ‘Once this is done, we are getting a professional opinion.’
He pushed through towards the locker room, and began unlacing his skates. Thankfully none of the other skaters spoke to him, he guessed it was the air he was putting on. But maybe they knew. That they were witnessing the fall of Victor Nikiforov.
Yuri didn't come to the locker room. Victor was grateful for that. As much as he wanted to see him, he knew his facade would fall to pieces the moment he saw those big brown eyes, worrying for him.
After all, there was no need to panic. It was probably no big deal, a growing pain or a strain from coming back into the competition after a year off. It would probably be a couple of ice packs and a week or two of rest, and he would be right as rain.
Yakov snagged him at the exit and managed to get them into the car without too much notice. Victor tried not to limp.
The trip to the hospital was a blur. When they arrived, a nurse whisked them into a private room, away from the eyes of the other waiting patients. Waiting was horrible. It took two hours for a doctor to visit the room, and a very quick examination to tell him what the problem was.
Victor had torn his left anterior cruciate ligament. The swelling was becoming uncomfortable, and at this point, victor was glad he had opted for a soft, loose pair of tracksuit pants, as opposed to the stiffer trousers he usually wore as Yuri’s coach. But all of this was a distraction. Yuri still hadn’t arrived.
‘We will have to do an MRI to observe the full damage as accurately as possible.’ the doctor pushed his heavy dark rimmed glasses up his nose, and advised Victor that he would be at the hospital for the next few hours, to fit him in today, as well as how the process of an MRI worked. Victor held his smile in place for the doctor, nodded in all the right places, and spun the ring on his left hand with the fingers on his right.
When the doctor left the room, Yakov turned to Victor and apologised. He was needed elsewhere. He was a busy man after all. He left, and Victor was left in the little waiting room, alone.
Another hour passed, Victor filling his time with the endless feed of instagram. People who looked far too happy about various things. People who showed the same mask he did when he was sharing photos with the world.
He felt too old to be 27. His heart felt so empty.
Then his phone buzzed in his hand, Yuri was calling.
‘Where are you?’ he said, urgent but hushed.
‘I'm at the hospital,’ Victor said.
‘Yeah, what room are you in?’
‘I think I’m just off the emergency room, I’ll poke my head out.’ he went to stand, but his left knee refused to support him, and he fell forward, sending one of the chairs in the room clattering into the wall.
‘Victor, what was that?’
His voice wasn’t only on the phone now. He could hear him through the door, and when he looked up at him, poking his head through the door, from the floor of this little room, he felt his mask crack completely.
‘Oh my God.’ Yuri dropped his phone on the floor, and Victor heard the screen crack, as he kicked the door closed behind him and helped Victor off the ground. Everything sped up. It was like the colour in the world was seeping back in, but so was the pain and so was Victor’s panic.
Yuri managed to sit him on the bed, before victor started hyperventilating and tears started flowing from his eyes. He was trying to tell Yuri everything. But all that was coming out was wet blubbery nonsense.
Everything was going black around the edges, and he felt himself sliding sideways the hollow ring of Yuri’s voice talking to him echoing in his ears.