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Chapter Text

The weight of someone’s eyes on the back of his neck had Victor turning around. Something inside him uncurled under that gaze, blooming like a plant towards the sun.

Yuuri.

It had to be.

The smile spread across his face before he could stop it, bright and happy and just a little bit breathless as he scanned the crowd behind him at the Sochi Airport security lineup.

There.

Victor’s eyes landed on a slight figure with dark hair, made even smaller by the way he hunched into his jacket. Disheveled, dragging his suitcase, he looked like he’d rather gouge his eyes out with a pair of rusty skate blades than be here.

After last night, Victor wasn’t surprised. He smiled wider as Yuuri looked up, their gazes locking. Soft, bright blue to velvety brown.

Victor was already in love with those eyes and the sense of rightness that settled into his soul just looking at them.

He truly hadn’t expected to see or hear from Yuuri so soon. For them to run into each other one last time at the airport security lineup...fate really was smiling on them.

“Did you want to get a photo?” Victor asked, voice pitched to carry across to the other man. They hadn’t announced their bond yet, but the press wouldn’t think anything of him taking a selfie with another skater.

He was about to step forward when Yuuri’s expression changed. The dull, depressed sheen fading under a sharp glimmer of shock, followed by acute shame. Victor froze, breath catching in his throat, but it wasn’t enough.

Yuuri’s black and blue jacket weaved through the other passengers as he made his way over to a different security checkpoint.

He fled, scurrying away from Victor with his head down, like anywhere else in the world was more desirable than being with his soulmate.

Fled.

That was the only word for it. His soulmate had fled from him, Victor thought, a jagged-edged void opening up inside his chest. The soulbond was still there, pulsing little flickers of warmth with every beat of his heart. But now, it bled.

Yuuri didn’t want him.  

Victor’s breathlessness morphed into panic, ears ringing, palms damp. Someone had placed a 50-pound brick on his chest when he wasn’t looking because his lungs no longer worked properly. Not that he really cared about breathing anymore.

None of that mattered now that his soulmate didn’t want him.

Behind him, Yakov was shouting at Other-Yuri (as Victor had already come to think of the younger skater. Other-Yuri as opposed to his Yuuri). It blended into the muffled buzz of airport noise, the usual commotion of travelling bodies.

“Victor, let’s go.” One of Yakov’s rough hands seized Victor’s arm and yanked him forward through the line.

Victor didn’t care. He would have stayed glued to the airport tile forever, indifferent to everything around him, if Yakov hadn’t grabbed him.

He didn’t care what happened next. Whether or not he made it back to St. Petersburg. Whether or not he ever skated again.

None of that mattered because his heart lay shattered on the airport floor.

Chapter Text

The best part of coming home wasn’t the hot springs, or the food, or even seeing his parents for the first time in years.

It was seeing their bond again.

Ensconced in a corner of the dining room, seated at one of the low tables, Yuuri watched his parents. Before he left, he’d taken for granted that this was what a soulmate relationship looked like.

He’d forgotten what the devotion between them looked like.

It wasn’t just the way his mother’s eyes sparkled every time she looked over at his father. Or the soft smile that ghosted across his father’s face at the sound of his mother’s voice. It wasn’t just the small, insignificant touches or the way they seemed to always know where the other was and what they were doing, so that they could move in perfect harmony around one another.

There was something more, vibrating in the air between them. It was quiet, subtle, and Yuuri had only noticed the absence of it when he moved to Detroit. He’d seen soulmates meet and fall apart. Dating, fighting, falling in love, breaking up, getting back together, among his classmates and fellow skaters. Every relationship scenario imaginable played out as the words on their arms drew people to one another.

But even the happy couples hadn’t always had this.

Yuuri didn’t have a name for it, even now that he was face-to-face with it as he shoveled a mouthful of rice and egg from his (first) pork cutlet bowl into his mouth. It was just there. This quiet certainty, an air of something other underneath the bond.

As though the bond was a manifestation of their feelings, not the reason for it.

He’d tried to explain it to Phichit once, hanging out in the Thai skater’s dorm room in Detroit.

“Yuuri, sometimes you just get that lucky,” he’d said, stroking one of his hamsters while the other crawled over Yuuri’s lap. “Sometimes you and your soulmate are perfectly compatible and sometimes you aren’t.”

Yuuri had protested, shaking his head. “No, this isn’t like that. I know sometimes relationships don’t work, even if you’re soulmates. But…my parents…they’re different.

“You know those un-soulmated pairs you see?” Yuuri had asked after a moment, struggling to get the words out. “The ones where you know it doesn’t matter that they’re not soulmates and that nothing is ever going to tear them apart?”

Phichit had nodded. They were rare, but everyone knew about those pairs. The one-in-a-million, forsook their soulmates for this partner pairs.

“Life partners,” he supplied for Yuuri. “That’s what my moms always called them.”

Yuuri nodded, even though that still didn’t feel quite right. Was there a word for when you and your partner were both soulmates and life partners?

He didn’t know.

Years later, back in Hasetsu, watching his parents interact in person, Yuuri still didn’t know.

But the ache in his stomach had nothing to do with how fast he’d devoured that first pork cutlet bowl, and everything to do with a longing Yuuri had no name for. A bone-deep yearning for what his parents had. A soulmate who was also his life partner.

He’d been feeling it more and more, ever since the Grand Prix Final. A sense that something -- someone -- a vital part of his life was missing.

That gaping hole, which he’d ignored in favour of figure skating until now, demanded attention. He hadn’t bothered dating in University. Why bother when your soulmate was going to come along one day and you’d have to break up? Or get dumped because your partner met their soulmate first?

The black mark on his wrist might as well have been invisible. It didn’t burn, didn’t throb. There was no ghostly echo. But Yuuri could feel the letters pressed into his wrist. Written there by fate, waiting for his soulmate to flare to life.

His stomach gurgled, and Yuuri glanced down, averting his eyes when he saw his newfound gut nearly bumping into the table.

Right. He was an overweight, disgraced, mediocre figure skater with no prospects after retirement and even worse prospects for making a true comeback.

Who in their right mind would want him ?

------

Ice Castle Hasetsu really hadn’t changed at all, Yuuri thought. Same posters, same locker room. Same ice-damp chill in the air as any other rink.

It still felt like home.

He warmed up after Yuuko let him in, idle, lazy laps slowly loosening his muscles. The way his blades cut over the ice -- this ice, specifically -- was familiar and soothing. Basic forms and figures settling anxious nerves and calming him down.

When Yuuko came down to watch, Yuuri skated over to her.

She opened her mouth to say something, but Yuuri held up a finger, stopping her.

He pulled off his glasses and dropped them into her hands when she reached for them.

“Um, I wanted you to see this,” he said, shyly meeting her gaze. “So I’ve been practicing it since the competitions ended. Please watch.”  She nodded, carefully setting his glasses aside.

Taking position at center ice, Yuuri’s soulmark caught the corner of his eye.

I should have worn longer sleeves , he thought. Usually it was small enough to ignore. Just one word -- “yes” -- nestled between the veins on his left wrist. But tonight, with sleeves that ended just below his elbow, the short black gloves on his hands did nothing to cover the mark.

It taunted him. That promise, that desire for what his parents had. Three little letters that promised nothing but uncertainty and had had Yuuri aching for months.

Stupid, he thought. He hadn’t even met his soulmate yet. So, why this new ache that he couldn’t escape, even on the ice?

Yuuri shoved all thoughts of his potential soulmate from his mind, taking a deep breath as he started the routine. He was only 23. His competitive figure skating career might be coming to a close (and honestly, he had no idea if he was going to retire, but he only had a few competitive years left anyway, even if he did go back, so what really was the point of making a comeback?) but he still had plenty of time to meet his soulmate.

Exhaling, Yuuri waited for the music to begin.

And then, he skated.

-----

When Minako saw Victor perform “Stay Close to Me” she told a room that wasn’t listening to her that the performance would tug at the heartstrings more if it came from a younger, more naive man.

This was true. Even Victor would have admitted it if she’d had the opportunity to say it to his face.

Anyone with eyes could see the longing in Victor’s performance, the aching desire for a soulmate captured and choreographed to perfection. Every jump a leap of the heart, every spin the dizziness of confused, desperate longing as you waited for something you knew was coming...you just didn’t know when.

A feeling so completely universal that the audience caught their breath in the first few moments. Every person felt this way, often for years, before those (usually) cherished words were spoken and the ink on their arm burned in confirmation, sealing the bond into their souls.

But Victor...his longing was old. Tired. Worn down from too many years on earth alone.

What Minako wanted to see -- what the audience -- wanted to see, was something brighter. Younger. More vibrant. They wanted a performance full of hope, with a guarantee of a soulmate at the end instead of the quiet despair that suffused Victor’s entire being, and had since the Grand Prix Final.

The routine had changed then, though it had been so subtle only Victor, and maybe Yakov, could pinpoint what specifically had shifted.

All the audience could say was that it felt different.

Movements that were once longing were now melancholy. Jumps that pushed off in determined pursuit, unwilling to give up, now landed with the hollow, empty thud of resignation. Step sequences designed to entice and enthrall, inviting the viewer to stay close, were now tinged with a heavy desperation that turned the invitation into a broken plea.  

Victor’s rejection suffused every performance since that day at the airport and the audience could feel his despair.

He knew this.

It got him another gold medal, though. Another World Championship. Another flight back to Russia, so he could crawl back to his beautiful

(cold)

(empty)

apartment, alone, and cuddle Makkachin.

And avoid Yakov’s calls. His coach was relentless but Victor--Victor was empty. He’d spent his entire life trying to surprise the audience. Every year, it got a bit harder. This year, though, Victor had nothing left to give. No ideas, no inspiration. No desire even to skate anymore now that the season was over.

He’d have to get that back, before the next season started...but did he even want to?

The ache in his chest was relentless, but having Makkachin around, who obviously cared that he was hurting, helped. How saw was it that his dog cared more about him than his soulmate? Victor wondered.

The poodle had taken to crawling into bed or onto the couch with him and laying his head on Victor’s chest, a paw over Victor’s heart as his hand combed through the soft, springy curls. They sprawled together, so entwined it was hard to tell where man ended and dog began as Victor tried to soak in Makkachin’s love.

But all the cuddles in the world did nothing to ease the hole that had been punched into Victor’s soul. The bond felt raw, tender. Like a wound that refused to close and just kept bleeding no matter what he tried.

His soulmate didn’t want him.

During one of these cuddle sessions, Victor’s phone buzzed an alert. Tangled up in his dog, trying to scrape together some semblance of the wholeness and sense of self he’d once had, Victor almost didn’t answer.

It was probably just Chris tagging him on Instagram again. The Swiss skater had (jokingly) been tagging Victor in all of his sexiest selfies since the European Championships, where Victor had admitted to his friend that he was struggling. That he had no inspiration anymore, and he could only skate the despair for so long.

But his phone was in his hand before he could register that he didn’t want to pick it up, body parts moving on autopilot.

Yuuri’s name on the screen was a brief arrow of hope that fizzled and died when Victor realized that it wasn’t a text from Yuuri, but a news announcement about Yuuri.

He half expected to read that Yuuri was announcing his retirement.

Instead, there was a video.

It was Yuuri. Skating his routine.

A routine Victor had choreographed to represent his search for his soulmate.

And Yuuri--Yuuri moved as though his body was made of music. All song and emotion and hopeful pining.

Technically, it wasn’t just clean. It was flawless.

How was it possible that Yuuri could skate like this and yet have faltered so badly at the Grand Prix Final last year? If this was the true extent of his abilities, why hadn’t Yuuri skated against him again at World’s?

The way he moved...that longing ...it called to Victor. Some part of him--the one he thought had died when Yuuri ran from him at the Sochi Airport--flickered back to life. A half-hidden ember still alive underneath Victor’s despair.

A fool’s hope.

Well, then Victor Nikiforov would gladly be a fool.

Because it wasn’t possible to skate “Stay Close to Me” without thinking about your soulmate. Victor had choreographed it that way.

Except when he skated it, it became a cold and broken plea: “Stay close to me.”

When Yuuri skated it, it was a pure, crystal clear desire: “Where are you?”

Where are you?

As though Yuuri was calling out to him.

Like Yuuri didn’t know he was there. Like he was still searching for him, for Victor.

Victor played the video three more times before exiting the app and booking a ticket to Japan, unable to tear his eyes away from his soulmate’s body.

Right here, his heart whispered. I’m right here, Yuuri.  

Chapter Text

There was something in the steam.

That had to be it. Some new chemical his parents had added to the baths, maybe a new cleaning agent.

Yes. That would explain why a mirage of Victor Nikiforov appeared in the hot springs, and told Yuuri he was going to win the next Grand Prix Final.

Except Yuuri knew he wasn’t a mirage.

The heat from Victor’s body, the clean, sharp scent that wafted off of his hair when Victor walked by, like a pine forest in winter...Yuuri couldn’t be imagining that.

He knew he wasn’t even as he moved on autopilot, ushering Victor through the spring and into a robe. Hands shaking and clumsy every time the Russian smiled at him.

Looking at Victor was like being in the middle of a panic attack before he stepped on the ice, Yuuri realized, fumbling another towel. There was that small, rational part of him that was still perfectly sane. He could hear it underneath the chattering panic, reassuring him that yes, Victor was here. No, he was not dreaming. Here’s how you fold a towel. Here’s how you open the door.

Yuuri could hear that voice, but his body wasn’t responding. That familiar quasi-blankess, like white cotton fluff lying just above the mass of panicked doubts that were all clamoring for his attention, covered his mind.

What did he do now? he wondered, watching Victor play with Makkachin in the dining room. Rolling around with the poodle on the floor while Yuuri knelt, hands fisted on his knees, waiting for an explanation that wouldn’t come.

Between one stroke and the next, Victor was out. Fast asleep on the floor, fingers still nestled in Makkachin’s fur.

Jetlag. He’s probably exhausted .

Right. That explained it.

Except, it didn’t. Why would Victor Nikiforov, of all people...be here?

The Russian’s chest rose and fell rhythmically. Not a care in the world while Yuuri was falling apart.

Under the shock--the stuttered words and shaking hands that clenched the fabric of his sweatpants just for something to hold onto--there was happiness. A warmth that suffused the blankness that came with the panic.

Victor was here. For whatever reason, his idol, his inspiration--the reason Yuuri started skating, really--was here. In front of him. Sleeping on the floor his parents’ inn.

Victor wanted to be his coach.

Consciously, the words hadn’t registered yet. The reality of Victor Nikiforov wanting to coach him, Yuuri Katsuki, hadn’t sunk in yet. His mind wasn’t able to process them through the blankness of the shock. But they were there. Lurking underneath the white space where his thoughts should be, hiding behind the warmth that kept his heart pounding.

Those words inspired a single feeling in him: terror.

Yuuri’s fingers curled against his knees even tighter.

He couldn’t even think it. What if Victor was serious? And what if it was true, the things his anxiety whispered? That Yuuri wasn’t good enough. That even Victor Nikiforov couldn’t fix him?

Yuuri stayed completely still as Minako rushed into the room, some of the blankness finally breaking when he had to respond to her hysteria.

But the things she was saying...that he’d brought Victor here...that Victor had chosen him ...that he had inspired Victor …

Never had Yuuri wanted the ice more. The warmth grew and his heart pounded faster and his feet itched for his skates.

On the ice, he knew what to do. He had instructions to follow. He could clear his head. The thoughts that raced underneath the blankness stopped as he focused on his skates, his form, the precise movements required for a beautiful sport.

The blankness was a blessing when he was on the ice. He could harness it, use it. Drown out that spike of black fear with endless practice, until he was so exhausted it just disappeared.

Victor sneezed. Yuuri jumped, fingers flexing on his sweatpants reflexively. The twinge of his muscles echoed down his back; every part of him still tight with surprised tension.

Victor sat up, blinked like a baby owl, and asked for food.

A sliver of tension trickled out of Yuuri’s shoulders. Dinner was good. He knew how to do that.

-----

It had taken every ounce of composure for Victor to not fling himself at Yuuri in the hot springs. The disheveled hair, red cheeks, his breathless soulmate staring at him. Those brown eyes wide with surprise and a slew of emotions that echoed the chaos roiling inside Victor.  

Just seeing his soulmate again...every crack in his soul had started to heal when Yuuri skidded through the glass doors.

Of course, he’d pulled away immediately after. And Victor’s ceaseless (and very obvious) flirting hadn’t yielded any results so far, but it couldn’t hurt to try one last time before bed.

He rapped his knuckles against Yuuri’s bedroom door. “Yuuri, let’s sleep together. As your coach, there’s so much I need to learn about you.” It was a genuine offer. Victor did need to know about Yuuri if he was going to coach him and get to the bottom of his performance issues.

But he would be lying if he didn’t admit that it was also self-serving. After so many months apart, he wanted to be near his soulmate.

“No!” The single shouted word wasn’t unexpected, but the pang of hurt that hit Victor in the stomach was. Every time he made any move forward, Yuuri recoiled. And Victor would give away his skates before he believed that Yuuri ran away from him for “no reason”.

Something was going on with his soulmate, and Victor was determined to find out what.

He kept knocking. “Yuuri! Yuuri! Yuuri?” The sudden silence from the other side of the door was startling. There had been a flurry of activity before. But now...

Finally, Victor sighed. “Come on, Makkachin,” he said, rubbing the poodle’s head as he turned to leave. “Let’s go to bed.”

His feet tread lightly on the old wooden floors, moving with the balance and grace of long years of training. His heart dragged behind him.

What had he done?

Their words weren’t split. There wasn’t a gap between Yuuri speaking to Victor and Victor activing Yuuri’s soulmark. And their bond was definitely not unrequited.

So why, then, did Yuuri run from him every chance he got?

Why did Yuuri run from him?

It was the same question he’d been asking himself for months. He toyed with it as he stripped, climbing into bed with Makkachin. The poodle circled, digging at the covers for a moment before nestling down in Victor’s arms.

More importantly? What could Victor do to  stop Yuuri from running away? Or, at least, entice Yuuri closer?

The problem was, Victor admitted, staring at the ceiling, that he didn’t actually know Yuuri...at all.

He’d asked -- discreetly -- around the skating community, but had gotten very little. Quiet, reserved, keeps to himself. Struggles with nerves when performing but still talented.

Nothing more personal than that.

How could he win Yuuri over?

What could he try?

Victor sifted through flirting strategies and scenarios, planning and revising what he would say to Yuuri tomorrow. How he’d phrase questions to get Yuuri to open up to him, instead of shying away the way he had today.

The look on his face though...when he saw Victor in the hot spring. That had been beautiful. The complete shock and utter surprise.

But it had hurt too. Yuuri had looked at him like...like…

Like he was Victor Nikiforov, 5-time consecutive Grand Prix Final gold medalist, current world champion, and world record holder.

Not like he was Victor Nikiforov, Yuuri’s soulmate. Flown over from Russia to train the love of his life to his fullest potential and help him realize the dream that had shattered at last years’ Grand Prix Final. A dream which Victor knew, with every cell of his being, that Yuuri could achieve.

Except Yuuri’s conversation with Minako had made it painfully clear how low Yuuri’s self-esteem was, as well as how much Yuuri looked up to him (he hadn’t been entirely asleep after the hot spring bath, just drifting)...Victor could understand Yuuri’s disbelief. And his reluctance.

Maybe Yuuri just didn’t believe Victor could be his soulmate?

Makkachin snuffled, and Victor flinched as a wet dog nose found a home in his throat. He carded his fingers absently through the poodle’s fur.

The piggy comment had been cruel, he admitted, silently tracing the beams that criss-crossed the ceiling. A snide little jab he hadn’t been able to resist. It was unattractive, but that vicious little corner of his heart, the one that was still mad at how Yuuri had fled from him in Sochi, wanted Yuuri to hurt too.

Until it saw how Yuuri wilted under the criticism.

Then all it wanted was to gather Yuuri into his arms, whisper sweet nothings in his ear, and never let him go.   

Except that would have freaked Yuuri out even more.

Victor sighed. Makkachin’s ear twitched where Victor’s breath touched it, and he dug his hands deeper into the poodle’s soft curls.

It didn’t help. When he finally drifted off to sleep, Victor’s fingers were still haunted by feeling of Yuuri’s smooth skin pulling away from him.

Chapter Text

It was the stairs that finally convinced Yuuri that Victor was here for real. He’d run the stone staircase three times already today, the cool April breeze ruffling his hair.

His legs burned, his heart was pounding. The layer of fat around his stomach wobbled slightly as he ran. The excess weight slowing him down as he huffed his way up the stairs.

Okay, so Victor was right. He was a little piggy right now. He’d never admit it to the man smiling at the top of the stairs. Even though the surprise had worn off after a few mornings, it still felt like Victor was some sort of daydream--maybe a mirage. Not quite entirely here or solid. Ready to disappear the moment Yuuri got close.

Except Yuuri could smell Victor every time he ran by him.

The wind blew Victor’s spicy, clean scent directly into Yuuri’s face, mingling it with the smell of cherry blossoms and dog.

It was so strange...it must be real.

This was real . Victor Nikiforov was here.

Victor Nikiforov was training Yuuri Katsuki .

Why the hell would he ever want to do that?

That thought kept resurfacing for Yuuri, no matter how hard he pushed it down. The training was punishing, grueling even, given the way Yuuri had let himself go. And yet the doubt kept returning.

He pulled his windbreaker off as the day warmed, wrapping it around his waist as they started a number of other drills.

Whatever the reason, there was a small smile on Victor’s face. And that made it worth it.

It’s probably just the view , a voice whispered in the back of Yuuri’s mind. Why would Victor smile when he’s got a student so out of shape he can’t even skate?

It was a spectacular view, Yuuri admitted, caving to the voice in his head. All of Hasetsu laid out before them, sun shining on the water, cherry blossoms floating down around them. It’s not like Victor was his soulmate or anything. Why would he smile for Yuuri?

Celestino smiled when he did well in practice all the time, Yuuri reminded the voice. Coaches were proud when their students did well.

Another jump. Switch legs.

From this side, Yuuri could see the end of Victor’s soulmark peeking out where Victor had rolled up his sleeves. It mocked Yuuri like a bad joke: “Victor!”

Like Yuuri would ever win.

Every fan of Victor Nikiforov knew that the full mark read “Look! It’s Victor!”.

How many women had thrown themselves at Victor over the years, saying those exact words? Yuuri wondered, correcting his form before moving into the next jump.

With as many fans as Victor had, it was a good thing soulmarks burned when you found your soulmate. An extra confirmation that yes, this was the right one.

Victor would need it.  

Heck,  Yuuri needed it. Since he was a child, he’d been jumping every time someone said the word “Yes.” That urge, the excited zing of hearing that word, had never really gone away. But Yuuri had pushed it back. Easier to not feel the excitement at all so he didn’t feel the crushing letdown every time it turned out not to be his soulmate.

“Do you have feelings for Minako?” Victor asked, shocking Yuuri out of his thoughts.

“What? No way!” Yuuri dropped to his knees, waving his hands in Victor’s face. Denial coursed through him, a visceral, almost automatic reaction to what Victor was suggesting.

Minako was important to him yes, but she was like another sister. He didn’t have feelings for her like that.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Why did Victor have to smile so big when he asked questions like that?

“No,” Yuuri said, quieter.

“Any ex-girlfriends?” Victor leaned in closer, his excitement puzzling Yuuri.

“N-No comment,” was the only thing he could think of. Yuuko didn’t count -- he’d only had a slight crush on her, and only until he discovered Victor. And he hadn’t really been interested in anyone else. What was the point if you’d only have to break up with them once your soulmate showed up? And no, maybe not every soulmate pair were supposed to be life-partners, either but...that’s what his parents had.

That’s what he’d always envisioned growing up. A soulmate who was also his life-partner. Why lead someone on and have a relationship if you knew it could never be that ?

“Let’s talk about me!” Suddenly, Victor was in Yuuri’s face, close enough to kiss and babbling about girlfriends and Yuuri...something inside him couldn’t stand it.

The muscles around his heart spasmed, and the word ripped out of his throat. “Stop!”

With a sigh, Victor pulled away and it took Yuuri a moment for him to register that his coach was sitting on the opposite side of the bench again. Chin in his hands, staring out at the sea. Looking like Yuuri had...hurt him?

Was that...even possible? He just didn’t want to hear about all of Victor’s romantic conquests. What was wrong with that? The wind played with Yuuri’s hair, as he and Victor sat there in their own silences. Victor’s radiating hurt, Yuuri’s an awkward stiffness.

He didn’t know what to say. Victor’s shoulders slumped, blue eyes sparkling a little less. The scent of sea salt and cherry blossoms was too nice for a moment like this, he thought, fingers digging into the wood of the bench.

Panic started to creep in around the edges. He didn’t know what to do. Victor was sad...because of him. If he thought about it, Yuuri stopped being able to breathe.

Makkachin’s bark cut the silence. They turned at the same time, but Victor’s gaze turned up, to Hasetsu Castle.

“Yuuri, what’s that castle over there?”

Yuuri breathed a sigh of relief. Victor was speaking again, looking for all the world like that little outburst hadn’t happened at all. “Oh, that’s Hasetsu Castle. Inside is a ninja house.”

Victor’s eyes widened in surprise and delight. “Really? Ninjas!”

Yuuri followed as his coach dragged him to the castle and insisted Yuuri take pictures of him and Makkachin for Instagram.

The breathlessness eased as Victor clambered all over the castle like an excited toddler, no trace of the earlier sadness left in him.

Yuuri smiled. But the doubt lingered.

Chapter Text

Victor noticed when Yuuri disappeared.

A sudden chill shivered in the middle of his chest. Like someone had been standing behind him and then just vanished.

Even in the middle of dinner, talking to the newly-dubbed Yurio (which was much better than Other-Yuri), he couldn’t ignore it.

It was different from how he’d felt in Sochi, but not. That hole had filled in when he saw Yuuri again. This was like the seed of it opening back up again, a scab tearing open at the center.

It was strange. People talked about soulmate bonds, about being able to feel their soulmate’s presence...but Victor had always assumed it was the same as knowing someone was in the same room as you. A physical perception.

Not this. This feeling like the center of his heart was stretching, moving...fading. It’s warmth and light tied directly to his proximity to Yuuri.

He could feel it grow brighter, perking up as he approached Ice Castle, settling into its usual glow when he saw his soulmate circling the ice.

Yuuri’s eyes were distant, completely lost as Yuuko and Nishigori let Victor into the office to watch with them.

“He’s always come here to practice by himself,” Nishigori said. Hands on his hips, watching Yuuri with something like resigned amusement on his face.

“It always made me think he really loved skating,” Yuuko said, leaning forward, elbows resting on the counter. Her eyes shone with admiration, even though Yuuri was only practicing the basics. “He didn’t even play with his friends.”

“Well, he was never very good at making them,” her husband pointed out. “Skating aside, he’s not good at putting himself out there.”

Yes, that fit with what Victor knew of his Yuuri. It fit with the picture Minako had painted too. A boy who ran away from his feelings, but could lay them out on the ice for anyone to see, if they just looked.

Victor was looking now. Yuuri was stiff, despondent. His skating was...depressed. That was the only word Victor had for it. Depressed...and thinking. Thinking so very hard about something.

What’s on your mind, Yuuri? he thought with a little shiver. The office might be warmer than the rink, but it was by no means warm.

“I don’t want this to be the end for him,” Nishigori said.

The end? Victor had heard the rumors that Yuuri was retiring but surely that’s all they were. Rumors. If his friends were worried about Yuuri retiring...no, that wasn’t even an option.

“Me, neither,” Yuuko said. “He actually hates losing.”

Now that was interesting. But not unexpected, either, Victor thought, taking in her words. Yuuri wouldn’t have been so crushed at the last Grand Prix Final if he hadn’t truly wanted to win.

But if Yuuri could only express his emotions on ice...well, they’d have to deal with that doubt first.

“I hope you’ll bring out a side of Yuuri that we’ve never seen before, Victor.”

Oh, I will , Victor thought, tapping a finger to his lips. He could feel the yearning in his soulmate’s heart from here. An ember, constantly undermined by a quiver of doubt, that had never been allowed to grow into the flame of passion and ability it should be.

“So, a magic spell to change the little piggy into a prince…” Victor said, earning puzzled looks from Yuuko and Nishigori.

“Nothing,” he waved them off. “Thank you. I know a lot more about Yuuri now,” he said, turning to leave, Makkachin bounding behind him.

The poodle followed on his heels through the streets of Hasetsu, lit by the glow of streetlamps.

If his soulmate skated to deal with his feelings...if Yuuri shut down whenever he felt too much...it was no wonder he’d been rejecting Victor.

The soulbond was intense, and theirs was no exception. Especially when exchanged their words, Victor thought, flinching as the lights of a car blinded him momentarily, leaving him and Makkachin in the dark with the smell of gasoline.

Was it any wonder Yuuri kept running away?

No, he thought, feet treading the old cobblestones that led back to the in. No, it wasn’t. Victor would just have to change tactics. He needed Yuuri to open up to him, the same way he needed air.

Talking with Minako, Yuuko and Nishigori--the understanding had helped. But he wanted to hear it from Yuuri . Hear those words spill from his soulmate’s lips as Yuuri entrusted Victor with his heart.

Something inside Victor’s chest eased. The part of him that had been braced for more hurt since the day Yuuri walked away from him relaxed. He just had to slow down and let Yuuri come to him. He just had to have patience.

Chapter Text

Yuuri froze at the edge of the rink, determination slipping away from him when he saw Victor the next morning. Pale morning sunlight filtered over his silver hair, the strands shining softly as Victor skated absentminded laps, waiting for the two Yuris to arrive.

Yuuri’s breath caught in his throat. He’d always loved watching Victor skate. But the look on his face now was far away, melancholy. Yuuri’s hand was frozen to the gate. He couldn’t open it if he tried.

This moment was fragile and intensely private...almost painful. Yuuri’s heart squeezed as Victor circled the ice. Even his warm ups were graceful and polished.

He’d always thought Victor was beautiful. His horde of raging fans--both male and female--assured Yuuri that he wasn’t alone.

But now, there was something pained about Victor’s beauty. An empty hollowness to it. Like something vital had been stolen from him.

A corresponding ache echoed inside Yuuri. Poor Victor. Yuuri had been so wrapped up in first his own failure at the Grand Prix Final, then the uncertainty about his career, and the whirlwind that had been Victor’s arrival, that he hadn’t noticed how the other skater had changed.

Yuuri would do just about anything to see that go away. To make Victor happy again.

His whole body jerked when he realized his line of thought.

Him? Yuuri Katsuki ? Make Victor Nikiforov happy? As if.

Besides, even if Yuuri could do it, Victor wasn’t his soulmate. They’d never have a future together--

“Move it, pork cutlet bowl.”

Yuuri jumped, startled, as Yurio pushed past him and onto the ice. The moment broke when Victor saw them and skated over, waving, before directing them to the end of the rink.

Right. Yuuri squared his shoulders, his earlier resolve creeping back. He could do this. He’d win the Hot Springs on Ice event, and then the Grand Prix Final, with Victor as his coach.

Maybe, he thought, stealing a glance at Yurio out of the corner of his eye. After a few days, together, it was easy to see that the scariest thing about the younger skater wasn’t his attitude--it was his talent.

Preoccupied, Yuuri missed what Victor said, but his heart leaped when the first strains of music floated into the air.

Had Victor been thinking of him when he picked this song? It felt like it. Clear, high, beautiful. Sweetly innocent. It resonated down to Yuuri’s bones.

“This piece comes in two arrangements, each with a different theme,” Victor said, eyes flitting from one Yuri to the other . “On Love: Eros and Agape.

“Have you ever thought about love?”

Yuuri shook his head as Yurio said “Nope.”

That wasn’t surprising; Yurio was only 15 after all. He didn’t even have his soulmark yet. Most people didn’t think about love until their soulmarks appeared.

At least, Yuuri hadn’t.

And then it had only been a passing thought. He’d been too busy skating. Besides, he trusted that his soulmate would show up when it was time. Surely, it didn’t really matter, then if he hadn’t thought about love? The soulbond would take care of it.

The look in Victor’s eyes, however, said something entirely different. That love was an enigma, a puzzle, something a 23 year-old should be pouring his heart and soul into understanding.

Victor’s shoulders didn’t move and he didn’t exhale, but Yuuri would have sworn he sighed in exasperation.

“All right. Then, how do you feel when you listen to this music?”

Eyes closed, Yuuri savoured the notes for a moment, searching for something to say. “It’s very clear and innocent, like someone who doesn’t know what love is yet.”

The unimpressed silence radiating from Yurio was telling. Yuuri didn’t even have to open his eyes to feel it.

“I don’t like this piece.  This innocence crap makes me want to barf.” Yuuri looked over at the younger skater, holding back a laugh when he stuck out his tongue. He might be an intimidating competitor, but he could still be a goofy teenager sometimes.

“Okay.” A click of the remote and Victor played the next track.

This was...richer. Deeper. A faster tempo, more strings. Yuuri tilted his head back to listen, eyes closed as he tried to see how this version could play on the ice.

It’s like a completely different song.

“Victor. I want to skate to this one!” Yurio’s body language had completely changed, vibrating with energy now. He shot a glare at Yuuri as if to say ‘don’t you dare take my song.’

Yuuri nearly rolled his eyes. Why would I? That song isn’t me. I’m not like that. I don’t have that...whatever this is.  

“The first piece is ‘On Love: Agape.’ The theme is unconditional love.” Yuuri turned back to Victor when his coach spoke, nodding. Agape. It made sense. He could do unconditional love.

“And this piece is ‘On Love: Eros.’” Victor continued. “The theme is sexual love.”

Victor raised a hand to his chin, considering the two of them.

“I’ll have you two skate to these opposing themes. This is how I’m assigning them.” His words were light, but his eyes were dead serious.

A tremor of fear crawled into the back of Yuuri’s throat a split second before Victor pointed at him.

“Yuuri, you’ll skate to ‘Eros’!” Victor declared, a huge grin on his face. “Yurio, you’ll skate to ‘Agape’!”

“What?!” Yuuri hadn’t realized he’d spoke aloud until Yurio shoved forward.

“Switch them! That piece isn’t me at all!” the smaller Russian demanded. Yuuri shivered at the intensity in his voice. When you looked past his youth, the Ice Tiger of Russia was actually a very accurate name for him.

Victor smiled, one finger raised like he was teaching them a lesson. “You have to do the exact opposite of what people expect! How else will you surprise them? That’s my motto.”

He lowered his hand and his smiled changed. It was sweeter, gentler. The exact same smile he’d given Yuuri before calling him a pig all those weeks ago. “Actually, you’re both far more ordinary and mediocre than you think. You need to be more self-aware. I’m surprised you think you can choose your own image.”

When Victor’s eyes opened, they were sharp and cutting. That smile a mask for the vicious criticism Yuuri knew was coming. He braced himself, but it wasn’t enough. “From the audience’s perspective, you’re just a piglet and a kitten.”

Yuuri started shaking, sweat running down his face as his heart seized. Did Victor really think so little of him? Was this whole thing just an excuse to go back to Russia early? ...Did Victor even want to coach Yuuri?

“If you aren’t up to my standards by next week, I won’t choreograph either of your programs.” With a gulp, Yuuri straightened his shoulders when Victor pointed at him. It was more of a reflex than anything, to jump when his coach gave him an order. But everything inside Yuuri stilled, waiting for Victor’s approval.

Why did it mean so much coming from him?

“Both of you are my fans, so I’m sure you’ll manage,” Victor said, bringing that finger back to his lips. He winked again, and the words did nothing to quell Yuuri’s anxiety. The praise was so faint it barely mattered.

A fan. Yuuri was Victor’s fan. Not a competitor. Not even his student. A fan.

Why did that hurt so much?

Yurio yelled at Victor, something angry and defiant that Yuuri couldn’t quite make out over the buzzing in his ears.

Yes, he’s a dime-a-dozen Japanese figure skater, but to hear Victor say that. Victor Nikiforov. The living legend. Yuuri’s idol.

Victor Nikiforov, who took a break from competitive figure skating to be Yuuri’s coach.

He’d rather let Yurio stab him in the heart with a pair of skates than hear that again.

“If I win, Victor, you’re coming back to Russia. And you’ll be my coach! That’s what I want.” The word Russia broke through the fog threatening to engulf Yuuri.

“Sure.”

One word. One word and a smirk. That was all it took to stop Yuuri’s breath again. Not because of the way Victor’s hair fell across his face this time, but because…

Yuuri didn’t know. All he could think was "No." A sense of helplessness and impending doom creept up the back of his neck. His body was numb, unresponsive. He wasn't frozen -- he knew that feeling, from when he’d been skating too long and every muscle in his body was cold and stiff from icy falls. Right now, it’s like his nerves have been switched off. He can’t feel anything except the weight in his chest and the pounding of his heart in the hollow of his throat.  

It’s beating hard and fast, like it wants to burst through his skin and throw itself at Victor. Some macabre inner part of Yuuri can almost see his heart twitching like a dead fish on the ice at Victor’s feet, slowly freezing to death when Victor chooses Yurio and Russia over him.

“Yuuri, what about you?”

Huh? Yuuri snaps back to himself, fingers tingling, every cell in his body suddenly and painfully aware under those blue eyes.

“What would you like to do if you win?” It’s such a reasonable question. And Victor’s smile is so fond.

It hurts.

It hurts to think that Yuuri will lose that if he fails. If he’s weak. If he screws up again like he did at the Grand Prix Final.

Why does it hurt so much to think of Victor leaving? Why does it feel like, if Victor leaves...if he just skates off the rink and never returns...a piece of Yuuri would leave with him forever?

The words slip from his lips before he can stop them.

“I want to eat pork cutlet bowls with you, Victor.” It’s small and quiet and sounds like the plea of a child instead of a professional figure skater.

Shock widened Victor’s eyes, and his body jerked, more affected by that small plea than any challenge Yurio could throw at him.

Yuuri broke. Something inside him snapped and the fuzziness burned away by a wave of deep anger, a new determination to fight for this. Whatever it was. Whatever he had with Victor. He wanted this chance. Even if it would end, one day.

Just for now. Just until the Grand Prix Final, he wanted this.  

“I want to keep on winning, and keep eating pork cutlet bowls! So I’ll skate to ‘Eros’!”

He was shouting, unaware of how loud he’d gotten, or that he looked fiercer than Yurio in that moment. All Yuuri could see was Victor, completely taken aback. Surprised. Like he didn’t know Yuuri had this in him. There’s a pang of sadness, deep under the fire that almost takes Yuuri’s breath away, but he’ll look at that later.

“I’ll give it all the eros I’ve got!”

Victor’s eyes sparkled as Yuuri’s words echoed inside the arena, the grin on his face exuberant.

“Great! That’s exactly what I like!”

Everything inside Yuuri unclenched at those words, even as Yurio assessed him anew. Yuuri would have withered under that kind of challenged from the younger skater before, and had at the Grand Prix Final. But now...Victor believed in him.

Victor believed in him, and that was enough. Victor directed them to start warming up, face still lit up as they skated away to the other end of the rink.

This is the first time I’ve seen him truly smile , Yuuri thought, imprinting that grin on his memory. Something deep inside his soul settling into a happy glow. He did that. He made Victor smile like that.

Maybe, just maybe, he had a chance at this.

Chapter Text

Yuuri Katsuki was a completely different person when he skated.

That thought had nagged at Victor ever since he’d seen Yuuri skate Stay Close to Me. But the Hot Springs on Ice event was the first time Victor actually had a chance to see Yuuri really perform .

It wasn’t that Yuuri’s hair was slicked back or that he took his glasses off, although that helped. It wasn’t the skating itself, either -- Victor had seen Yuuri skate hundreds of times in practice by now.

No, it was the way he moved. His body language was completely different.

He held himself differently, Victor thought, watching his soulmate take center ice. He smiled a little.  Surrounded by people, bundled up against the chill of the rink, the chatter and cheers of spectators almost drowning out his own thoughts, and Yuuri still managed to hold all of his attention.

He could see the nerves that crawled under Yuuri’s skin, had felt the nervous tension in his muscles when they hugged. He could still feel the ghost that hug, Yuuri’s arms burning through his jacket. Did Yuuri realize that was their first embrace? Probably not. He wasn’t keeping track of their bond the way Victor was.

That didn’t matter.

What mattered now was the way Yuuri skated. When he forgot the nerves and just let himself feel -- like he had in Stay Close to Me.

The way he carried himself...it was like every feeling Yuuri had been pushing down came to the fore, drowning out the anxiety and the nerves. All his shyness and reserve vanishing as Yuuri moved, his body making the music come alive for the audience.

For Victor, it was completely enchanting. Forward and aggressive, Yuuri’s body flowing to the opening chords, moving to Victor’s choreography.

And then Yuuri threw him that smirk.

Victor whistled. There he was. He’d known that Yuuri was in there somewhere.

This was the Yuuri he’d been hoping to see. The opening step sequence and spin weren’t perfect -- not by a long shot. But the way he moved...it didn’t matter.

Every single step was a motion of yearning or seduction. Every flick of the wrist a “come here, please.”

The part of Victor’s brain that was, and forever would be, a champion figure skater, saw all the flaws and spots for improvement. Places to up the execution and polish the performance.

The part of Victor that was Yuuri’s soulmate, however...just watched. And it was completely and utterly seduced.

As Yuuri spun and flowed across the ice, it wasn’t the sex appeal that surprised Victor. No, he was already aware that his soulmate was quite attractive, thank you. That had figured prominently in their first meeting, after all.

It was the confidence Yuuri was exuding.

Small touches -- the dip of a shoulder here, soulful eyes there. This wasn’t the brash, forward playboy performance Victor had been envisioning for himself.

No, this was better.

...Until the Salchow. Victor’s breath hissed through clenched teeth as Yuuri stepped out of the jump. Was he--

But Yuuri kept moving, recovering easily. Completely unphased. Still spinning. Still seductive. Still ON in a way that Victor hadn’t seen since the video -- and had never seen in person.

It was a relief to know that one mistake wouldn’t trip Yuuri up the way it had at the Grand Prix Final.

The last spin, the final jump combination, his final steps were still suffused with that same seductive, erotic charge. Understated, but so enticing.

And painfully attractive, Victor admitted, shifting his stance. It was a good thing his pants were hidden by his coat...and the boards.   

The arena erupted when Yuuri finished. Cheers of “Welcome back, Yuuri” bouncing off the ice.

Was this a welcome back? Victor didn’t think so as he gazed at his soulmate. Yuuri was flushed and panting on the ice, overjoyed, exhausted. Maybe just a touch bewildered. A hint of “did I just do that” lurking underneath the surface.

Victor’s heart sang, the warm pulsing glow that was (and always would be) Yuuri warming his chest.

Yes, this was a whole new chapter for Yuuri. For them.

How lucky was he to be here for that?

---------

Winning Hot Springs on Ice was...Yuuri still couldn’t describe it. Something inside him glowed with pride and joy, and a sense of rightness settled into his bones.

He could still feel the press of Victor’s hand squeezing his shoulder, the warmth of his body as he pulled Yuuri tight to his side. A shiver of...well, definitely-not-platonic feelings ran through Yuuri at the memory, one hand closing over his shoulder as if to hold the ghost memory in place.

That memory--the shiver of warmth it brought--that was why he was wandering around the onsen in his sweats, looking for his mother.

Socks whispering on the hardware floors, Yuuri padded down to the laundry room, hand falling away from his shoulder before he pushed the door open.

“Oh, Mari…” His mother was nowhere in sight, but his sister stood there, folding a massive load of towels. “Have you seen mom?” he asked.

“She and dad went out.”

“Oh,” Yuuri’s face fell and Mari sighed, putting down the towel she had been folding and turning to face her brother.

“What’s wrong?”

“Eh? Oh, it’s nothing…” Yuuri stammered, flushing and glancing away, toes fidgeting on the floor.

Mari grabbed the cigarette she kept behind her ear and ran it through her fingers. Yuuri never made eye contact when he was feeling awkward.

“You’ve got that wrinkle between your eyebrows that means you’re worried about something.”

Yuuri twitched, a surprised full-body jerk before he met her eyes and sighed.

“I just...do you know how mom and dad fell in love?” he asked, walking over to Mari’s pile of towels. He grabbed one and started folding, keeping the laundry basket firmly between them.

“Not how they met, I know that. But when did they know it was love and not just the bond?” Yuuri’s hands were careful, meticulously creasing each fold perfectly straight. Fiddling, for lack of anything better to do.

Mari huffed air through her nose, the sound both annoyed and resigned. The two of them continued to fold for a few moments before Mari spoke again.

“They’d choose each other even if they weren’t soulmates.”

“Huh?” Yuuri looked up, brown eyes wide with surprise.

Mari shrugged. “Even if they had other soulmates, do you think they’d care?” She placed her last towel in the basket, holding it out for the ones Yuuri was still folding. He dropped them in, expression somber as he took in her words.

“They’d still choose each other. That’s what I think anyway,” she said,walking out of the laundry room, leaving a perplexed Yuuri to stew in his own thoughts.

Chapter Text

Morning sunlight washed over the floorboards behind Victor. Birds chirped, the songs of sunrise fading away into their day calls as he stood in the hallway outside Yuuri’s bedroom door.

Remember, just let Yuuri come to you , he thought, taking a deep breath to brace himself.

Easier said than done. Yuuri had been running away from him since last night. What he’d done, Victor wasn’t entirely sure, but he was determined to fix it. And that meant keeping Yuuri off the ice for today. It was far too easy for Yuuri to switch off, into training mode, when they were skating.

Faint rustling sounds drifted out from the other side of the door. It sounded like Yuuri was up.

Be nice . A deep breath in, and Victor slid open Yuuri’s door. A blanket covered lump squeaked as he plastered a smile across his face.

“Good morning, Yuuri. Let’s go to the ocean.”

The lump turned to look at him, sweating and shaking in terror. It took every ounce of performance ability Victor had to keep smiling, pretending like he hadn’t seen the look on Yuuri’s face. Was Yuuri really that terrified of him?

The question was a lead weight around his heart, pulling on the bond. Not choking it off, but weighing it down, dimming the light he felt from it. Every time it seemed like they took a step forward, something happened and Yuuri pulled back.

“Okay…” Yuuri said, more a small sound of assent than an actual word. But it was enough.

They walked to the beach in silence. Victor made a conscious effort to relax, rolling his shoulders back, breathing out the tension as Makkachin loped ahead of them.

Beside him, Yuuri trudged, shoulders slumped. Like a little black cloud on feet, guilt and anxiety flowing off of him in waves instead of rain.

It was a pleasant day, warm enough, despite the cloud cover, that the salty breeze was refreshing rather than chilling, as Victor found a spot for them to sit. Even though this was Yuuri’s home, he made no effort to guide Victor’s choice, or give input.

He was so far deep inside himself, inside that spiral of anxiety and shame, that Victor, for a fleeting moment, wondered if he’d be able to pull Yuuri out of it. And what had even triggered it in the first place.

Yuuri hunched himself up into a ball, his grey hoodie swallowing him up as he tucked his knees under his chin. Like he wanted to collapse in upon himself, be as small as possible. Makkachin settled between them and Victor was almost glad of it as he slung an arm over the poodle, fingers idly stroking his fur.

They sat in silence for several minutes, watching the waves--silvery grey under the clouded sky--wash onto the beach.

Cries of gulls echoed overhead.

“Oh, seagulls,” Victor said.

“Black-tailed gulls,” Yuuri corrected him, voice muffled by the sleeves of his sweatshirt.

Victor leaned back a bit.  “Ever since I came here, I’m reminded of St. Petersburg when I hear seagulls in the early morning.”

Truthfully, he’d been a bit disoriented the first time he’d heard them, hit with a pang of homesickness like he’d never felt before. A kind of hollow ache in his chest for something as familiar as breathing, something he’d taken so completely for granted he’d never thought he could miss it.

Never thought he’d miss the way Yakov barked orders at him, or the grueling training routine they stuck to. He’d been so wrapped up in Yuuri -- training him, creating the programs, coaching him, living with him, loving him in the small ways he would allow -- he’d barely had time to miss any of it.

But in the quiet moments like this, it snuck up on him.

“I never thought I’d leave that city, so I never used to notice the seagull’s cries. Do you ever have times like that?”

Yuuri’s voice was soft and low when he spoke, his words taking Victor completely by surprise. “There was a girl in Detroit who was really pushy and kept talking to me. One time a rink mate had an accident. I was pretty torn up with worry…”

A speedboat was crossing the bay in front of them, and Victor tracked it across the waves, resisting the urge to look at his soulmate. He could feel Yuuri hunching deeper into a ball from over here, physically retreating to counteract the vulnerability of opening up emotionally. It was a fragile balance Victor had to hold -- staying still enough that Yuuri wouldn’t flee, but not so still that Yuuri felt rejected.

He kept watching the waves, breathing slow and easy--relaxed, yet completely controlled--as he gently rubbed Makkachin’s head.

“I was in the hospital waiting room with that girl. When she hugged me to comfort me, I shoved her away without thinking about it.”

“Wow, why?” The breeze ruffled Victor’s hair. He didn’t really need to ask. After these last few weeks together, Victor could guess at why Yuuri would have pushed her away. But he wanted to hear it from his soulmate.

“I didn’t want her to think I was feeling unsettled. I felt like she was intruding on my feelings or something, and I hated it. But then I realized that Minako-sensei, Nishigori, Yuko-chan, and my family never treated me like a weakling. They all had faith that I’d keep growing as a person, and they never stepped over the line.”

“Yuuri, you’re not weak.” Victor’s voice was gentle, his tone somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. Just a touch exasperated that Yuuri couldn’t see what everyone else did and a tad resigned because of course that would be how Yuuri saw himself. “No one else thinks that, either.”

They sat in silence for a moment, breeze swirling between them, before Victor spoke again.

“What do you want me to be to you? A father figure?” At this point, Victor genuinely didn’t know what his soulmate wanted him to be. Their relationship had been...unusual from the beginning. Maybe a soulmate-type bond wasn’t what Yuuri actually wanted?

“No,” Yuuri said into his knees.

“A brother, then? A friend?” Victor suggested. Yuuri shrugged one shoulder a bit. As much as he was capable, with his knees pulled up like that.

“Then, your boyfriend, I guess.” Victor’s heart lurched a little, a spark of hope igniting even as he tried to tamp it down, keeping the words light.

“I can try my best,” he said. Yuuri jumped into the air and...Victor would have to figure out a way to get him to do that on the ice. Almost three feet, straight up, from a sitting position? Landing on his feet and--

“No, no, no, no, no!”

The vehement denial, the waving hands--Yuuri was the most animated Victor had seen him all day. But that little hope withered and died as soon as the first syllable left Yuuri’s lips.  

It was almost worth it to see some life in Yuuri again.

Almost.

A furious blush spread across Yuuri’s cheeks as he stood, hands clenched into fists as if to keep the steady. “I want you to stay who you are, Victor! I’ve always looked up to you.”

That was…

The absolute last thing Victor had expected to hear. And he stared at Yuuri in wonder for a moment, blue eyes drinking in Yuuri’s shy, averted gaze. Too embarrassed to look Victor in the eye as he bared his heart to his soulmate.

“I ignored you because I didn’t want you to see my shortcomings.” Yuuri was...ashamed? Could he really--this whole time--have felt like he wasn’t worthy of Victor? Could he really have been worried, this entire time, that Victor -- his own soulmate --- would leave ...because Yuuri was human?  

Something inside his chest melted. His soulmate hadn’t rejected him. At least, not because of anything he’d done. Not because he didn’t want Victor. The wind teased the dark strands of Yuuri’s hair, and Victor’s heart ached with how beautiful he was. Not just physically, either. Opening up was hard for Yuuri; Victor could read that in every line of his body. The fact that Yuuri did it anyway? For him?  

His breath caught in his chest at Yuuri’s bravery.

Then Yuuri’s eyes met his and he lost his breath for a whole other reason. “I’ll make it up to you with my skating!”

So it did exist... that fire in Yuuri’s eyes. Victor hadn’t imagined it the night they’d met. He’d started to wonder, doubting himself, questioning if he was imaging something that was never there to begin with.

But there it was, quieter, flatter, but that same relentless determination, layered now with vulnerability and honesty.

Victor smiled and held out a hand for Yuuri to shake.

“Okay, I won’t let you off easy, then.” A touch of wonder crept into Yuuri’s eyes as Victor spoke. “That’s my way of showing my love.”

A smile bloomed across Yuuri’s face. Almost radiant. Something eased in Yuuri’s posture, even though Victor couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Something about the way Yuuri saw him just...changed.

The handshake sealed it, Victor’s fingers lingering in a brief caress over Yuuri’s skin before their palms parted and they silently turned to head back to Hasetsu.

The sun came out and the lake glittered behind them; Victor ignored the view. The change in Yuuri, the lightness in Victor’s soulbond--that was a thousand times more beautiful.

-----

“If you want more impact,” Victor’s pen scratched against Yuuri’s notebook, “maybe the last jump can be a quadruple toe loop?”

Yuuri straightened from where he’d been leaning against the boards, unease pulling his spine upright.

“Huh? For the last one?” he asked, taken aback. Even Victor never put a quad at the end of a program. Even though he could land the toe loop reliably, it was still risky. He’d be at his most tired, and even with his stamina…

“With your stamina, I think you can pull it off,” Victor said, smiling as his warm blue eyes caressed Yuuri’s face.

Had he...Did Victor really...Victor believed in him, Yuuri realized, freezing for a moment as his brain processed the feeling unfolding in his chest. A breathless fullness, almost like --

“You’d rather not?” Victor asked with a tilt of his head. Lips curling in a flirty challenge that always made Yuuri blush, even though he was starting to realize that it hid Victor’s uncertainty and doubt.

The five-time world champion doubted himself...and believed in Yuuri. That was a revelation.

“I’ll do it!” he said, finding his voice from somewhere. It came out louder and sharper than Yuuri had intended, but Victor smiled wider.

“Okay!”

And just like that, a tension Yuuri couldn’t name snapped between them, noticeable only in it’s absence as Victor turned away and started to shed his hoodie before pausing midstep.  

“Oh, right. Yuuri, did you change the musical theme?”

“Oh, um…” Of course...the one question he didn’t want Victor to ask. He looked down so he wouldn’t have to meet the Russian’s gentle blue eyes.  

“What is it?”

It’s embarrassing, is what it is, Yuuri thought. You’re not even my soulmate. And I think I already love you. After what Mari had said to him, he hadn’t even bothered to talk to his mother. If love was feeling like you’d choose that person over your soulmate, well…

He’d known what the theme needed to be.

“The theme is ‘on my love,’” he said, voice strong and somehow hiding the nerves he felt. He met Victor’s eyes in time to see his coach smile, again.

Sometimes it felt like Victor smiled every time Yuuri looked at him.

“That’s the best theme. Perfect.” The feeling that spread through Yuuri at Victor’s praise...he almost couldn’t describe it. It was like someone had taken the sun out of the sky, hung it inside his stomach, and it was rising inside him now, just for Victor.

If this was how people felt when they liked someone, Yuuri finally understood why they’d date someone who wasn’t their soulmate.

He’d do anything to hang on to that feeling.

Chapter Text

Victor Nikiforov had never encountered someone who could shut down emotionally in so many different ways as Yuuri Katsuki.

Spectators, even his competitors, might look at Yuuri and think he was in the zone. Victor knew better.

It was nervous tension that rode his soulmate’s shoulders, shuttered his face, and turned him hard as stone as he skated out onto the ice during the warmup. Ignoring everything but himself and his routine as they waited for the men’s singles free skate to start at the Chugoku, Shikoku, and Kyushu Championship.

It was no surprise he missed jumps when this was how he reacted to stress, Victor thought, tucking his stuffed Makkachin tissue box under his arm. That still didn’t excuse how he’d treated Minami, brushing the younger skater off like he was nothing. Cold and distant.

A Yuuri Victor had never seen before.

A Yuuri Victor wasn’t sure he liked.  

That his soulmate could be so callous with others, so unaware of their feelings--that hurt.

Would Yuuri do that to him? Victor wondered. One day, if he was anxious or nervous or upset, would he turn away from Victor like that? Eyes stone-cold and hard as ice.

Even the thought of that had the bond shivering inside Victor’s chest.

If Yuuri shut down and retreated inward every time the pressure was on...it really was incredible he’d made it this far. Skating was about feeling, about expressing your emotions through the beauty of the ice.

If Yuuri couldn’t feel that inside himself, how could he ever share that with anyone else?

The warm up ended, and Yuuri skated over to the gate, eyes downcast, still trying to block everyone out on the pretext of focusing.

“Yuuri,” Victor asked, voice carefully controlled so only the smallest hint of icy bite broke through, “how can someone who can’t motivate others motivate himself? I’m disappointed in you.”

He really was, he realized as he slapped down Yuuri’s red and white guards and walked away, disappointment curdling in his stomach. He could deal with having a soulmate who wasn’t a figure skater. He could deal with a having a soulmate who wasn’t as good of a figure skater as he was--not that he believed, for one second, that Yuuri wasn’t as good as he was. His potential was enormous. He definitely had the skill and the talent to win.

What he couldn’t deal with was a soulmate who was so...unaware. Yes, Victor was forgetful. But he didn’t turn cold or hard or make people feel small and unimportant. And he couldn’t stand the thought that Yuuri was okay with being that person--even if he didn’t know it.

The little gasp of shock Yuuri made as he walked away was almost enough to get Victor to turn back...almost.

He took a seat in the stands, watching Minami take the ice to start his routine. Victor knew Yuuri would continue warming up as he was skating last. He didn’t need Victor right now, and Victor...honestly, Victor could use the space.

He couldn’t be Yuuri’s coach, not in that moment.

As Yuuri’s soulmate, he was too disappointed.

Claps and cheers greeted Minami, slowly dying off as the arena fell into an expectant hush, waiting for the music to start.

At the last moment, one more cry ripped through the arena.

“Good luck, Minami-kun! Good luck!”

Victor nearly laughed. The look on Minami’s face was priceless. The poor boy was completely overwhelmed with joy.

He was so free with his emotions, so expressive.

But that twinkle in Minami’s eyes...it was the same one Yuuri sometimes got during practice, when it was just the two of them alone on the ice.

Sometimes, when they practiced, Victor caught Yuuri looking at him like he was a living, breathing miracle.

Maybe that wasn’t just because they were soulmates, Victor realized. Yuuri had mentioned that he’d looked up to Victor before but Victor...Victor hadn’t thought about it from Yuuri’s point of view before.

Yuuri hated being seen as weak.

Yuuri had been shattered by his defeat at last year’s Grand Prix Final.

Yuuri wasn’t just modest about his abilities -- he could barely see how talented he was.

Could Yuuri not see the hero worship on Minami’s face earlier? Was his soulmate so focused on looking up, on reaching the top, that he couldn’t even see how far he’d come? How many skaters he’d inspired?

Victor nearly shook his head. If it was anyone other than Yuuri, he wouldn’t believe that.

But something about it fit so perfectly, he thought, watching Minami skate, shifting on the uncomfortable wooden benches.

He watched the other skaters from the back of the crowd, mentally cataloguing their form, talent, potential as he waited for Yuuri to return.

Yuuri looked so out of place here, Victor thought, mentally comparing him to the younger skaters. Funny how he belonged so perfectly at the Grand Prix events or even Worlds. But here he looked awkward and gangly.

Too big for the small, local arena. And yet, somehow, Yuuri himself couldn’t see that at all.

By the time Yuuri re-entered the rink, Victor was waiting by the boards. He covered up a laugh when Yuuri gave Minami-kun one very awkward shoulder slap.

You know, Yuuri, there is a difference between being nice, and being in the zone , the thought. Fondness rising, warming him from the inside.

“Yeah, this costume’s great,” he said, taking the coat Yuuri handed to him, assessing the glittering purple jacket one last time. The costume was a key part of the performance, after all.  

And it really was a beautiful colour on Yuuri, bringing out the warmest tones of his skin. Complementing the dark hair and liquid brown eyes Victor could get lost in for days.

“You look beautiful in it.” Yuuri adjusted his sleeves silently.

Pushing back an imaginary lock of hair, Victor lightly caressed the side of Yuuri’s face. Fingertips lingering across the skin in a silent message: ‘It’s okay.’ And: ‘I forgive you.’

“Your lips are chapped.” Victor reached into his coat and pulled out the tin of balm he kept there. Ice rinks could be horribly dry places, terrible on the skin.

The balm he spread on Yuuri’s lips was a peace offering, and they both knew it. Healing that small moment between them when Yuuri came off the ice as surely as it healed the small, dry cracks in Yuuri’s lips.

Victor stepped forward, one arm cupping the back of Yuuri’s neck, the other pulling him close into an embrace. Resting his forehead on Yuuri’s shoulder, he breathed in deeply.

Truth be told, Victor was probably just as nervous as Yuuri. Except where Yuuri shut down when he was nervous--going as cold and hard as ice--Victor opened up. Sought reassurance.

Or, at least, he did from his soulmate, it seemed.

The warm weight of Yuuri’s hand on his neck was a blessing. More than forgiveness, more than acceptance, it was calm and sure, and everything Victor needed to relax.

Yuuri was going to do just fine.

----

The press conference was a big deal at the hotsprings. Yuuri’s family even stopped working to watch, while Yuuko and Nishigori trekked over there with the triplets (who were arguably more excited than everyone else combined) and Minako in tow.

The ballet instructor took a seat beside Victor, discreetly offering him a drink before scooching over a few inches. Brown poodle fur and white clothes did not mix. Victor had learned that lesson the hard way, and was thankful for the soft green robe he had stolen from the inn (and fully intended to keep as a souvenir when--if--he ever left).

“ Next we have Katsuki Yuuri, who’s thought to be the next leader of men’s singles in Japan. Please show us.” The announcer’s voice was slightly tinny through the tv speakers, and Yuuri’s face had that washed-out-tv-glow, Victor noticed as he wrapped his arms tighter around Makkachin.

On screen, Yuuri didn’t move. Victor wasn’t sure if the red tinge on his cheeks was a blush or the TV lighting. He’d been lit horribly at several press conferences in the past -- especially the smaller ones.

The announcer spoke again. “Um...Please show you theme for this year. Skater Katsuki?”

Yuuri flipped over the white card in his hands and placed it on the podium. The character was one of the few Victor had learned to recognize in the last few months in Hasetsu.  

And that was definitely a blush on his soulmate’s cheeks.

Taking the microphone, Yuuri started to speak, face wooden and robotic, eyes downcast from embarrassment. He still had a hard time talking about his theme, Victor realized, burying his nose in Makkachin’s fur.

Are you so embarrassed by your feelings for me, Yuuri? By us? VIctor’s stomach clenched just the slightest bit, the edges of his body tensing, waiting for another rejection from Yuuri. Not because Yuuri didn’t want him, he knew, but because pushing people away was Yuuri’s default mode.

It still hurt, even when Victor knew better.

“My theme in this year’s Grand Prix series is love.’” Yuuri said. “I’ve been helped by many people in my competitive skating career this far, but I’ve never thought about ‘love’ until now.” Stirs and titters traveled among the adults beside Victor, the triplets enraptured by the tv, little otaku hearts flailing in excitement as they watched Yuuri talk about love.

“Though I was blessed with support, I couldn’t take full advantage of it. I always felt like I was fighting alone. But since Victor showed up to be my coach, I’ve seen something totally different.”

What? That was...surprising. The tension started to seep out of Victor, the rejection he’d anticipated clearly not coming.

“My ‘love’ is not something clear-cut like romantic love, but the more abstract feeling of my relationships with Victor, family, and hometown...I was finally able to realize that something like love exists all around me.”

The camera pulled back to show the announcer and the rest of the skaters on stage -- all of whom looked completely shocked.  They’re not the only ones, Victor thought, glancing at the rest of the room from the corner of his eye.

Minako, Yuuko, Yuuri’s parents, Nishigori...they were all aghast. And honestly, Victor felt the same way as Yuuri continued, looking up and gazing directly into the camera. As if he was trying to make eye contact with Victor, even though they were miles apart.

“Victor is the first person I’ve ever wanted to hold on to. I don’t really have a name for that emotion, but I have decided to call it ‘love.’ Now that I know what love is and am stronger for it, I’ll prove it to myself with a Grand Prix Final gold medal!”

Victor’s world shifted on it’s axis ever so slightly. Gravity loosened its hold on him, so his grip on Makkachin was the only thing that keeping him upright.

Victor is the first person I’ve ever wanted to hold on to . Those words hung in the air, repeating inside Victor’s head, and he wanted to reach out, snatch them out of the air, and hold them as close to his heart as he could before the shocked silence in the room broke.

Yuuri had just…

“We…” Nishigori started.

...declared their soulmate bond...

“...were abstract,” his wife finished for him.

...live...

“After all this time we’ve supported him…” There was both outrage and genuine bewilderment in Minako’s voice.

...on national television.

The realization sank in as one of Makkachin’s paws twitched, nails dragging along Victor’s arm. A small, dull pain, but enough to know that he was not dreaming.

He really was not dreaming.

A smile spread across Victor’s face. Oh Yuuri. Of course you would .

“When you come back, we’ll burn that unfashionable necktie, Yuuri.” Victor said to the image of his soulmate on the tv. “Let’s buy a new one before the Cup of China.”

Yuuri waved back at them, and though Victor knew that Yuuri couldn’t see him, he imagined that, somewhere inside, through the bond, Yuuri could feel how full Victor’s heart was right now. That the warm glow inside him was echoed in Yuuri, after he declared their bond for the world to see.

Chapter Text

Yuuri, the sin of keeping Victor to yourself is grave. The whole world is hoping for his return. Chris’s words whispered in Yuuri’s mind as he warmed up for his routine.

The sin of keeping Victor to yourself is grave . He knew that. Of course Yuuri knew that. Victor should be on the ice with them, maybe even instead of him. After all, Victor was the living legend, not Yuuri.

It had been easy to forget that while they were together in Hasetsu. Easy enough to be selfish and let Victor focus solely on him, instead of facing the fact that Victor...Victor would have to make up his mind, soon. Leave, and return to the ice, or stay and retire.

Except…

He couldn’t give Victor up. He wouldn’t. Not without a fight.

After seeing Phichit’s performance, I’m no longer unsure. Yuuri breathed evenly through the jog as he warmed up in the hall, waiting his turn. Measured strides keeping his muscles warm and loose, feet thumping into red carpet he barely saw.

People who want to see Victor skate will never be satisfied with my skating.

He had come so far in the short time they’d been working together. Winning Hot Springs on Ice. Shattering his personal best in his last competition.

He still wasn’t Victor.

And while the choreography of Eros was (almost) exactly the same as Victor had imagined for himself, Yuuri skated it completely different. Not as the playboy, but to seduce the playboy -- to seduce Victor .

That was a routine the Russian never would have skated. He didn’t need to seduce anyone. Anyone he pursued -- soulmate or not -- would be lucky to have Victor. Yuuri knew he was. Victor was cheering for him now, but...

The people who’re cheering for me wouldn’t be satisfied with the old me, either.

The old Yuuri, the one who had self-destructed at last year’s Grand Prix Final...his parents, Mari, Minako, Yuuko, Nishigori, the triplets.

Victor.

None of them would be okay seeing that Yuuri again. He had to leave that person behind. The nerves, the fragility--all of it. That had to go. No matter what, someone wasn’t going to be happy. Either he would let down the people closest to him, or Victor’s fans would hate him forever for stealing Victor from the ice.

If that’s the case, I want to be hated as the man who took Victor from the whole world!

Deep down, in a place beyond consciousness and words, where only shapeless feelings and pure conviction reside, Yuuri knew that “the whole world” included Victor’s soulmate. And that he had already forsaken his own for Victor.

A tiny little frisson of doubt shivered down there, whispering What if Victor wants to return? What if he wants to come back? Can you steal that which would not be stolen, Yuuri? Could you cage him, knowing he longs for freedom?

Breathing deep, Yuuri continued stretching until it was his turn.

-----

He should be more nervous than this, Yuuri thought as he approached the rink. His pulse still jumped a bit, his insides fluttering in anticipation, but it was faint. So faint, even compared the way he’d felt at the Chugoku, Shikoku, and Kyushu Championship. Instead, he felt...certain. Determined. Not in a way that he knew he could skate this. But more like--he was going to do this. No matter what.

The nerves wouldn’t stop him this time.

And this...this desire--it burned .

Blades hitting the ice, Yuuri turned back for Victor’s usual pep talk, fists resting on the bright blue boards. Victor caressed his knuckles, the warmth of his touch seeping through leather gloves and Yuuri’s costume.

Their eyes locked as Victor spoke. “The time to seduce me by picturing pork cutlet bowls and women during your skate is over. You can fight with your own personal charm.”

A spark of warmth trembled inside Yuuri’s chest, happy and afraid as the meaning behind Victor’s words registered: an invitation to seduce Victor directly. For the entire world to see.

Yuuri stared at his coach, lost in his gaze for a moment. Captured--and held--by the soft, ocean blue he’d stared at since he was a teenager, falling asleep under pictures of those eyes every night after training.

“You can envision it just fine, can’t you?” Victor smiled at him, strands of silver hair drifting in his face.

He’d fallen in love with Victor’s eyes first.

Those eyes were soft right now, filled with some emotion Yuuri shied away from naming. He had to skate, they were in public, what about their soulmates -- excuses flooded Yuuri’s brain, but that warmth uncurled in Yuuri’s chest and rushed down his limbs.

Victor rubbed a finger over Yuuri’s knuckle, and threaded their fingers together. A tight grasp that said more than his last few sentences.

No, this desire didn’t burn: the urge to keep Victor with him, to win Victor over, enchant him with his skating. Blind him to everyone but Yuuri.

Make it so that Victor never wanted to leave.

This desire was as cold and hard and implacable as ice. Resilient, no matter how many blades crossed its surface.

Yuuri surged forward, pressing their foreheads together, gazes completely level. Had they been alone, Yuuri might have kissed him.

“Don’t ever take your eyes off me,” he said, knowing that it was a desperate plea. The closest he could come to voicing all of the feeling currently swirling around inside of him.  

Don’t look away from me, even for a second. Don’t look away from me, even for your soulmate. You chose me over them once. Choose me again. And again. And again.

Forever. I will skate for you forever, if you just choose me.

Victor doesn’t say a word. Instead, his eyes speak for him: show me .

Yuuri pushed off of the boards, arms out to greet the crowd as he took position for his opening.

The first notes of the guitar strummed through the arena, and Yuuri started to move. Desire coursing through his veins, it suffused every movement. The tilt of his head, the little lick of his lips, the smirk he threw to Victor.

Just watch , it said.

But also: Come get me, it whispered.

“K-Katsuki Yuuri from Japan is skating his first program of the Grand Prix series. The music is ‘On Love: Eros’.”

Years of practice made shutting out the announcer easy. Yuuri’s entire focus was on the routine.

His skating was crisp, fluid. A challenge to everyone watching. See me. See the new me.

Are you watching, Victor?

“What an amazing step sequence! That was wonderful!”

The praise doesn’t phase him. It doesn’t even register. All that matters is the next step, the next movement. Every second a chance to keep Victor’s eyes on him. Only on him.

A chance to steal Victor away from a soulmate he hasn’t met yet.

A chance to be the only person in Victor’s heart. Forever.

“Katsuki Yuuri has planned all of his jumps for the second half of his program to get higher scores so he can win the Grand Prix Final.”

“Well, this will be tough.”

Dropping down into a spin, Yuuri imagined grabbing Victor’s heart and pulling it close to him. Holding it to him as he skates through the routine, dancing with it through the triple axel. Flying with it through the quad Salchow.

I’m the only one who can satisfy Victor. It burns inside him like frostbite.

I’m the only one in the whole world who knows Victor’s love. I’ll prove that now.

The final spin. The last steps.

He casts aside the whole world, grabs Victor’s heart and holds it close, arms wrapping around, holding it safe. His alone.

“You’re witnessing the birth of a new Katsuki Yuuri! Love wins! No one can deny that this was a perfect performance!”

It took Yuuri a moment to remember that he could move, flushed and panting. That he wasn’t actually holding Victor’s heart in his arms.

That he won’t lose anything if he lets go.

Flying on the heady combination of adrenaline and victory Yuuri bowed to the crowd.

“It’s a personal best for Katsuki Yuuri.”

Yuuri could barely hear the announcer over the cheers, and he was a little stunned. They liked it that much?

It didn’t matter. Not really. It was good that the audience liked him, but he was scanning the boards for Victor as he skated off the ice.

Were you watching me? Did you ever look away?

The pang of fear disappeared as Victor grabbed him in the kiss and cry. The smile on his face saying everything Yuuri needed to hear. But it was his coach’s words after his score was posted that took his breath away: “You’re the best student.”

You’re the best student. He would give up katsudon forever to hear Victor whisper those words to him just once more.

You’re the best student.

Chapter Text

Where had the man from yesterday gone? Victor wondered, watching Yuuri before the long program. Where was the confident, determined man who had so effortlessly seduced not just Victor but the entire audience?

He knew that Yuuri got nervous before competitions, but this wasn’t just nerves. Vacant eyes, shaking hands -- Yuuri was in the middle of a near-complete meltdown. And every fibre of his being was screaming at Victor to make it better.

He ushered Yuuri ahead of him, down a back staircase, into the chill, stale air of the underground parking garage. The shaking, the shrinking, the dark bags under his eyes that grew deeper with every wave of cheers from the crowd --maybe that would ease now.

If anything, Yuuri looked worse than after his performance in the Grand Prix Final last year.

Victor wasn’t even sure if Yuuri could skate.

“Victor, what are the current standings?” The tremor in Yuuri’s voice tugged at the bond, a trembling ached in Victor’s chest.

Victor raised his hands, trying to be a calm, soothing presence. “O-Okay, Yuuri. First, let’s take deep breaths.”

He was as nervous as Yuuri, he realized. What if he couldn’t help him? He watched his soulmate warm up, searching for a zone, a peace of mind that constantly seemed to slip through his fingers. His usual flowing warmup reduced to a set of discrete movements. Engaging and releasing his muscles, but all of the music normally present in how he moved completely gone.

The sound of applause pulled Victor’s gaze upwards. If they could hear it down here, the roaring of the crowd must be thunderous. Phichit’s routine must have been flawless to earn that sort of reaction.

And Yuuri--

Yuuri was standing there, headphones in his hands, looking smaller and more scared than Victor had ever seen him before.

He moved automatically, pure bond-driven instinct. Hands closing over Yuuri’s ears, trying--desperately--to block out the sound. Trying, even more desperately, to block out the fear that was creeping deeper into Yuuri’s eyes.

“Don’t listen!” he commanded. The faint, plasticy pop of Yuuri’s headphones hitting the ground echoed loud in the silence.

They stood there, eyes locked. Victor’s a hard, piercing blue, boring into Yuuri’s soft, frightened brown.

I understand how you might be affected by other skater’s standings if you were younger. But why is Yuuri so nervous? Was it the pressure of being in first? Had Yuuri ever been in first before? The lack of sleep? What?

How can I motivate Yuuri? Maybe motivate was the wrong word. Yuuri needed to forget his nerves. Go back to a calm, centered place. Flip that fickle little switch that had him so beautifully ON yesterday, but that refused to budge from OFF today.

How could Victor do that? I have no idea.

Yuuri broke the protective silence first, his fingers encircling Victor’s wrists before pulling his hands away from his ears. Even Yuuri’s fingers were tentative today, lacking the grip strength Victor knew he had.

“V-Victor? It’s almost time. We need to get back.”

Victor could see Yuuri’s heart in his eyes -- heavy, almost broken. Like it had given up fighting before the battle even started, so completely convinced that it would break. That it would lose.

Skater’s hearts are as fragile as glass. Victor’s was no exception. It held perfectly still, aware that the wrong movement, the wrong feeling would shatter the precarious balance of anger and sadness inside him as Yuuri walked away.

If their hearts are so fragile…

“Yuuri.” The word was loud in the silence of the parking garage.

Yuuri’s footsteps stopped. “Huh?”  

Let's try shattering his to pieces.

Deep breath, Victor. You can do this. He braced himself for the pain he was about to cause his soulmate, one hand pushing his hair back.

“If you mess up this free skate and miss the podium, I’ll take responsibility by resigning as your coach.”

The hand on his collar was there to make sure his heart was still beating as the harsh words spilled out of his mouth.

Yuuri froze, pale and washed out from stress and lack of sleep. For a moment, Victor thought his soulmate had stopped breathing, and guilt churned in his stomach.

Yuuri, please say something, he thought, before the first tears silently overflowed from Yuuri’s eyes.

“Why would you say something like that, like you’re trying to test me?” Yuuri said, voice choked with sobs, composure -- finally -- cracking. But his heart...Victor flinched.

It shattered!

Cautiously, Victor walked towards Yuuri, hands up like he wasn’t sure if wanted to rest them on Yuuri’s shoulders. Would a gentle touch hurt Yuuri even more right now?

Inside, a voice whispered: How had Victor not known this pain was lurking inside his soulmate all along? How inattentive had he been to miss this? How pushy, how little did Yuuri trust him, after all these months, if Victor could miss this?

The guilt in his stomach sharpened, twisted. He did this. Now he had to fix it.

“Uh, sorry Yuuri. I wasn’t being serious--”

“I’m used to being blamed for my own failures.” The tears rained down, as Yuuri bit the words out furiously.

“But this time, I’m anxious because my mistakes would reflect on you, too! I’ve been wondering if you secretly want to quit!”

The pang of hurt in his chest -- Victor couldn’t tell if it was his or the bond. How could he quit when he was Yuuri’s soulmate? How could Yuuri think that he would just walk away from them? From their bond? From everything they’d achieved together?

You idiot. Yuuri didn’t need breaking. He needed love.

His voice was gentle and soothing:  “Of course I don’t.”

“I know!” The words were fierce and sharp and took Victor completely by surprise. If Yuuri knew that Victor didn’t what to leave...then what could he actually do ?

He didn’t know. He didn’t know how to help his soulmate. And that killed him even more than Yuuri’s tears.

“I’m not good with people crying in front of me,” Victor said, the words a quiet admission of defeat. He felt vulnerable, even naked just saying the words, stripping away the armour and confidence that Victor had worn since their first meeting.

“I don’t know what I should do. Should I just kiss you or something?”

It’s the only thing he can think of that might make Yuuri stop crying. But would it actually make things better?

“No!” The word ripped from Yuuri’s throat. “Just have more faith than I do that I’ll win! You don’t have to say anything. Just stand by me!”

And for the first time Victor felt like he was actually seeing his soulmate. Broken, afraid, so full of talent, and so desperate for someone to believe in him like he can’t. He saw Yuuri. All of Yuuri. Even the parts he struggled so desperately to hide from everyone--especially from Victor.

Terrified, with all of his walls washed away by fear...Yuuri was beautiful. And far, far stronger than Victor.

They walked back up to the rink in silence, Yuuri’s tears slowly subsiding.

All I have to do is believe in you, stand by you--and that’s enough? Victor wondered. It felt so small. So completely insignificant. Of course he believed in Yuuri. That was a fundamental fact of his existence now, like breathing air or drinking water or being the five-time world champion.

It was in his bones. The question was, how could he make Yuuri feel his faith

He lay a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze as they walked through the warm up area, past the cameras and photographers. A silent “I’m here.”

And when Yuuri patted his thin spot before heading off into the ice...something inside Victor settled. Shifted. The bond hummed and he let out a sigh of relief.

Yuuri would be okay.

His soulmate would be okay .

-----

The routine was beautiful. Despite the touchdown on the axel, Victor could feel all of it. Every step, every motion, every single tear Yuuri shed. All the love.

As though crying before the match had bled off the nerves, leaving only the love to shine through.

The last jump, though…

The approach…

Victor knew, even before Yuuri took off. It was a flip. His quadruple flip.

The hardest jump, and the last. And Yuuri had put it in there just for him.

That space inside Victor’s heart that was his soulbond to Yuuri expanded, flooding him with warmth, light, love.

After the way I hurt you, you still did that for me?

Awed, Victor buried his face in his hands, fighting back his own tears. Yuuri skated his emotions, that was true. But never before had Victor seen him skate forgiveness .

Forgiveness for him.

He ran. His heart would have nothing less than a dash to the gate. Catching himself clumsily to meet Yuuri as he came off the ice.

“Victor! I did great, right?” Yuuri was glowing. Alight with more than just victory.

I love you. So much.

If Victor spoke now, the words would come out. He knew they were shining from his eyes--he couldn’t help that. But Yuuri wasn’t quite ready to hear that.

So Victor did the only other thing he could.

Time slowed as he jumped, Yuuri’s eyes widening in recognition of what was about to happen.

Their lips met, soft and sure. One of Victor’s hands cradling Yuuri’s head as they went flying back to land on the ice.

Yuuri’s arms around him felt like coming home. Lying together, smashed onto the ice, Yuuri sweaty and exhausted beneath him, Victor was home in a way he hadn’t been since the first time Yuuri walked away from him..

“This was the only thing I could think of to surprise you more than you’ve surprised me,” he said, pulling back to look at Yuuri’s face. And he’d needed to surprise Yuuri, to show him exactly what that routine had meant to him--what Yuuri meant to him.

Yuuri’s face morphed, shock and awe turning into something softer, warmer. Something like the feelings that lurked in Victor’s heart, still unsaid.  

“Really?” It was so soft, so unsure. All Victor could do was smile back and nod, sending everything he felt through the bond.

How could you ever doubt it, Yuuri?

Victor kissed him again when they got back to the hotel. After the medals were handed out and the interviews were done.

This time, Yuuri kissed him back.

Chapter Text

Things changed after China.

They still trained as normal and Yuuri still slept alone in his room when they returned to Hasetsu.

But now there were stolen kisses and fleeting caresses as they passed one another on the ice. The backs of their hands brushing as they walked Makkachin.

Victor gave him a small, intimate smile when Yuuri dug into his extra large pork cutlet bowl their first night back in Hasetsu. (Technically he hadn’t won at The Cup of China, but second place in his first Grand Prix event of the season was enough to get Victor to relent for one night.)

Sitting across from one another at the table, even the air between them was softer and warmer than before. Yuuri wondered if anyone else could see it. How things had changed between them

Victor had feelings for him, there was no denying that. That was clear in China. Not just on the ice, but after. At the hotel.

He’d spent so many nights sleeping underneath posters of Victor, staring at that smile, and now Yuuri knew exactly how those lips tasted, how soft that silver hair really was, sifting through his fingers as they pressed together...

“Yuuri, you’re not eating?”

Yuuri blinked open eyes he hadn’t realized he’d closed.  Victor was staring at him with a mouth full of pork and rice, a frown creasing his brow.

“Sorry, I’m fine,” Yuuri said, blushing and spearing another piece of pork with his chopsticks.

“You were daydreaming,” Victor said, leaning forward. Food forgotten as a mischievous gleam entered those ocean-blue eyes.

Yuuri gulped, face growing hotter under Victor’s gaze.

“Were you daydreaming about me?” Yuuri could lose himself in Victor’s voice. Smooth as silk with that rich accent rounding out the edges, it took a moment for Yuuri to parse out Victor’s words.

“No! No, I--” Face flaming Yuuri tried to deny it, waving his chopsticks in the air and almost knocking over his bowl. Victor laughed as Yuuri scrambled to save his katusdon. His ears burning with shame Yuuri froze. But Victor’s laughter was...delighted?

Slowly, Yuuri looked up, gaze tentative, as though he was trying to hide behind his eyelashes.

Victor’s smile was warm, happy. No mockery or malice in there anywhere. Just pure delight. Delight...at Yuuri?

He shook his head, not really understanding it.

Victor coughed, looking away. His smile fading as an awkward silence fell, neither man really sure what to do. Victor fidgeted, shifting around on the floor while Yuuri picked at his food. The warm, intimate atmosphere from earlier completely gone.

“Is it okay?” Yuuri asked after a time, his voice small and quiet.

“Huh?” Victor looked up, completely lost.

Yuuri flushed -- again. (At this rate his cheeks were going to stain red permanently.) “That I was ...daydreaming about you.”

A smile spread across Victor’s face, warmth and intimacy flooding back between them.

“Yes.”

It’s a small word. So tiny. But to Yuuri, so huge. The mark on his wrist throbbed a reminder that no, Victor’s ‘yes’ was not the ‘yes’ Yuuri was still waiting for. But the love in those eyes...Yuuri would forsake anything for that.

It didn’t matter if Victor wasn’t his soulmate.

It didn’t.

--------

Yuuri’s socks slipped a little on the polished wooden floors as he padded into the kitchen arms piled high with dishes from his supper with Victor.

“Ah, Yuuri, there you are.” His mother was standing on a step stool in front of the sink, up to her elbows in sudsy water.

“Let me take those,” she said, shaking water droplets from her hands before reaching out to take the dishes from her son’s arms.

“Thanks, mom,” Yuuri said, handing the over before grabbing a towel and drying the dishes already on the rack.

The onsen had a dishwasher, but with all the new guests who had been staying since Victor arrived, there were almost more dishes than they could handle.

Yuuri dried while Hiroko scrubbed, the silence between them comfortable and comforting. The small stack of dishes beside the sink dwindled rapidly.

“What’s on your mind?” Hiroko asked, passing Yuuri another bowl to dry.

He blushed. Of course she knew he wanted to talk about something. Before he left home, this was what they had always done when he wanted to talk.

It took Yuuri a few seconds to muster up the words, glad that Victor’s Japanese was still somewhat sub-par. Even if he walked in, he wouldn’t understand what Yuuri was saying.

“Mom, what do you think is more important...finding your soulmate, or having your life partner?” he asked, continuing to dry the bowl in his hands long after he should have stopped.

Hiroko hummed.

“This is about Victor, isn’t it?”

“Um…” Yuuri turned red to the tips of his ears, and his mother laughed, brown hair flying back as she shook her head.

“We were watching that kiss, you know,” she said. “All of us. Even your father.” If he could melt into the floor, Yuuri would have.

Kissing Victor was...well, kissing Victor had been amazing. That it was on live TV--Yuuri tried not to think about that.

“I think it’s sweet, the two of you together. He obviously loves you. And he makes you happy. That’s all your father and I have ever wanted for you.”  

Yuuri’s hands faltered, dishcloth going still.

“Really? It doesn’t matter if he’s not my soulmate?”

Hiroko smiled at him, wide brown eyes, so much like his own, soft and caring. No hint of the judgement Yuuri had been secretly dreading in them.

Soulmates were precious. Sacred. You weren’t supposed to throw that away just because you’d fallen in love with someone else.

“You want to know the most romantic thing your father ever said to me?” Yuuri nodded.

Hiroko crooked a finger and Yuuri leaned down so she could whisper into his ear.

“It was on our second date. He said it was good thing I was his soulmate, or he’d have to break some poor girl’s heart.”

Yuuri stared at her. His chest was tight, like he’d fallen and had the wind knocked out of him.

“Even if you weren’t…?”

She nodded.

“And you know what? I’d choose him, too,” she said, placing the last dish on the drying rack. Rinsing her hands, she unplugged the sink before stepping down from her step stool.

She smiled up at her son, and patted his arm. “Would you mind finishing those for me?” she asked.

Yuuri nodded, a little dumbfounded. Her words still echoed in his ears, and he stayed in the kitchen long after he’d finished drying the dishes.

Even if they weren’t soulmates.

Chapter Text

Even if they weren’t soulmates.

Hiroko’s words followed Yuuri to Moscow.

These words were the challenge he flung at the Russian audience. Spinning from his blades, they dared anyone to come forward. Dared even Victor’s soulmate to come and take him.

Even if they weren’t soulmates...Victor had chosen Yuuri.

He proved that with his performance. They proved it when Victor kissed his skates. When Yuuri beat his personal best yet again.

It didn’t matter if they weren’t soulmates, he’d chosen Victor and Victor had chosen him. All of Russia knew that now.

A knot of tension Yuuri hadn’t known he’d been carrying eased.

He could do this. He could do what Chris had (jokingly) accused him of in China and steal Victor away from the rest of the world.

His phone buzzed, Mari’s name appearing on the screen.

It wasn’t like her to call when he was at a competition. A whole new feeling of dread started to rise, fingers clenching around his phone as he answered. Thank goodness there weren’t any reporters around in the athletes’ waiting area this time.

“Oh, Yuuri? Sorry to bother you during an event,” he could tell, from the quaver in her voice that something was wrong.

“But Maccachin stole some buns and they got stuck in his throat. We’re at the vet right now, but we’re not sure he’ll make it.”

His phone was cold against his ear. A strange ringing drowning out the sound of the crowd. He could barely hear Mari over it.

“Sorry, what do you want us to do?”

Vicchan . For a moment all Yuuri could feel was the crushing regret of not getting to hold the little ball of fluff in his arms one last time before he’d died.

That was a wound that still hadn’t closed.

And now Makkachin…

He couldn’t let Victor go through that. He couldn’t.

“Victor!” his coach looked over at him, surprised to hear Yuuri shouting.

“Go back to Japan right now. I’ll face the free skate tomorrow on my own!”

----

This was the just like last year’s Grand Prix Final, Yuuri thought, watching Victor’s back disappear through the glass doors of the hotel. Last year, he’d been so knotted up with grief over Vicchan’s death he’d performed horribly. His will to win held hostage by an iron cage of frozen tears.

Now, though…

This time was different. Ropes of uncertainty constricted around his heart, each heartbeat painful as it thudded against them.

The warm reddish flagstones and rich carpeting of the hotel lobby were colder and emptier than any arena Yuuri had ever set foot in.

Victor was gone.

That piece of his heart reserved for Victor -- the one right at the center -- left with him. A dim, faded hole staying behind.

Yuuri carried the weight of that hole into the free skate the next day. No news from Mari or Victor. That wasn’t surprising though. The last minute flight had Victor in transit for nearly 24 hours. Yuuri couldn’t expect to hear anything until after his performance.

The ache of worry eased a bit as Yuuri took the ice, but the empty spot on the boards where Victor should be haunted him throughout his performance. Relying on memories of Victor instead of the real thing worked...barely.

Yuuri made it to the Grand Prix Final by the skin of his teeth.

Wandering around in a daze, Yuuri had no recollection of hugging Yakov or any of the other skaters after. Everything was fuzzy until he stepped outside, into the bracing chill of the winter air.

Yuuri breathed in, drawing the clear coldness deep into his lungs. It swirled there, calming and grounding him as he leaned on the guard railing, snow drifting lazily down around him.

I’m this close to the peak of my competitive figure skating career. I really want the gold now.

A car drove past, headlights cutting through the darkness. Yuuri barely noticed, lost in his own thoughts and missing Victor.

Victor…

Yuuri had heard what Yakov had said when Victor first approached him. About Victor coming back. The look on Victor’s face--something in the way he’d paused before asking Yakov to watch Yuuri...Yakov had struck a nerve.

Truth be told, Yuuri had known for a while. There was a melancholy look Victor would sometimes get, staring at the ice. Regretful little glances as they left the arena, bits of choreography Yuuri would catch him performing when Victor thought he was alone.

The Grand Prix Final will be my last chance. Even if I don’t win gold, I’ll have Victor step down as coach after the Grand Prix Final, and…

A foot slammed into his ribs and Yuuri went flying, skidding on the snow as he fell.

“There you are, pork cutlet bowl. You made me look for you,”

“Oh, Yurio…” Yuuri pushed himself up to a sitting position, icy sidewalk cold against his bare hands. Of course it was Yurio. That foot had been familiar .

“What was that earlier? Stop creeping me out. And what was that free skate, anyway?”

The young skater barely stopped to draw breaths between his complaints. And in a way, Yuuri was glad as the small blond boy lectured him. He didn’t have to react right now. He could just sit here, hands slowly going numb in the snow, and let Yurio yell at him.

“You can make the excuse that you couldn’t do your best because Victor wasn’t there, but I was in top form and earned a new personal best, only to lose to JJ again! You have no right to feel more down than me, pork cutlet bowl!”

Was Yurio...trying to cheer him up? The soft flush on the Russian’s face was at complete odds with his tone of voice and pointed finger. And yet, somehow, Yuuri knew that was exactly what he was trying to do.

In his own, Yurio way.

It wasn’t enough to stop the ache and uncertainty roiling away inside of Yuuri, but it was enough to soothe it, just a little.

Yurio threw a paper bag at him, looking up so Yuuri couldn’t meet his eyes.

“You can have it. It’s almost your birthday, right?”

“Huh?” the sound slipped out before Yuuri could stop himself, a delicious aroma wafting from the bag. He hadn’t eaten since before the competition and his stomach, ignored during the angst and anxiety of the day, growled.

Pulling the top open, golden brown buns peeked back at him.  

“Pirozhki?” he asked. Victor had described the traditional Russian dish to him, but Yuuri hadn’t eaten it yet.

“Eat.” The single word was terse and impatient.

“Huh? Right here?” In the middle of the sidewalk, with snow starting to seep through his pants?

“Eat!” Yurio yelled it this time and Yuuri stood, wiping his snowy hands on the leg of his pants before bringing one of the deep-fried buns to his mouth.

Crispy dough gave way to an explosion of flavour. Yuuri had expected some kind of meat filling, but the familiar taste of pork and egg and rice burst onto his tongue instead.

“Huh? There’s rice in this...Pork cutlet and egg, too.” Yuuri chewed, swallowing. “It’s a pork cutlet bowl!”

“That’s right!” Yurio’s smile was huge as he leaned back on the guard rail. Happy and so proud.  “My grandpa made them himself! Great, aren’t they!”

“Yeah! They’re vkusno!” A small, warm smile lit Yuuri's face.

They’re more than vkusno. They taste like victory. They taste like home. They don’t lessen the ache of missing Victor, but the pirozhki and Yurio’s smile fill up another part of him. One that’s been empty for almost as long.

They were friends now, somehow. In some strange way. And that made the moments when Yuri was alone and unsure--the entire trip home, really--that much more bearable.

I have a lot I want to tell you, Victor. What do I say first?

Chapter Text

Makkachin’s bark was a welcome sound.

Even sitting in the airport, surrounded by people, the poodle hadn’t quite been back to himself. There was a sparkle missing from his eye, and the bounce in his step was gone.

That changed when he caught sight of Yuuri. Bounding up to the glass, stubby tail wagging, tongue lolling out to smother Yuuri in kisses, that was when Victor finally knew his dog was going to be okay.

It was when he knew that he was finally going to be okay.

Because there, on the other side of the glass, was Yuuri.

All the grief and stress and tension of the last few days hadn’t melted away yet. It was still there, underneath everything else. But the naked yearning reflected on Yuri’s face, it matched -- exactly -- what Victor was feeling.

All he wanted was his soulmate.

And all his soulmate wanted was him.

They started running, pacing each other along the glass until Yuuri reached the security exit. Victor held out his arms, and Yuuri threw himself into them.

That--that was the moment when everything started to ease. The soulbond thrummed, a bright happy glow as everything inside Victor warmed, breathing in the smell of Yuuri, stale from airplanes and travel.

It was the best thing Victor had ever smelled.

He tightened his arms around Yuuri, burying his face in the other man’s hair.

“Yuuri...I’ve been thinking about what I can do as your coach from now on.” He’d had nothing else to do on the way home. Nothing but to sit and plan and think. Thinking about Makkachin (at least, before he’d arrived at the hospital to bury his fingers in his dog’s fur, reassuring the poodle, over and over that he was going to be okay) had just made things worse.

Instead, he’d dwelled on the way his throat caught when Yakov had asked if he was coming back. On the persistent itch between his shoulderblades that intensified every time he watched Yuuri compete without him.

Should he stay? Or go back? Torn between his soulmate and the career that had brought them together. The sport that made them both who they were.

“Me, too.” Yuuri pushed back out of the hug, eyes deadly serious as he held Victor at arm’s length. “Please be my coach until I retire!”

Victor’s head spun, the moment dizzying. ‘Coach’ was a word with so much meaning for them. So many intricacies and layers of their relationship wrapped up into two small syllables.

And Yuuri--those fierce brown eyes knew exactly what that word means. To him. Them. Those eyes know exactly what his request means for Victor’s career and his chances of returning to the ice.

The weight of it hung in the air between them.

Coach has always been an easier word for Yuuri than soulmate, Victor thought, raising one of Yuuri’s hands to his lips, kissing chapped knuckles.

“It’s almost like a marriage proposal.”

Relief and love softened Yuuri’s face, his lips parting on an inaudible “oh”. Victor wanted nothing more than to kiss him, but Yuuri was already moving back into his arms, his grip fierce this time, tight. Like he couldn’t bear to let Victor go.

Like he wouldn’t let anyone else take Victor away. Not even the ice.

It was a bittersweet moment.

“I wish you’d never retire,” Victor whispered into Yuuri’s hair.  

In the secret language of coaching and skating that he and Yuuri had fallen into over the last 8 months, retire meant something totally different. And they both knew it.  

Victor ignored the sob, and pretended not to notice Yuuri’s tears.

“Let’s win gold together at the Grand Prix Final.”

And World’s. And the Four Continents. Nationals . Victor kept adding competitions in his head. He didn’t want this to end. But his soulmate hadn’t asked him to stay beyond the Grand Prix Final.

They’d talk about that once they got to Barcelona, Victor thought, keeping his hand on the small of Yuuri’s back as they walked out of the airport and -- finally -- headed home.

Chapter Text

It was funny how, after so many years of travelling for competitions, waking up disoriented and jetlagged in an unfamiliar hotel room had become familiar. The dark room Yuuri woke up in this time was as unremarkably nice as any other hotel he’d stayed in for a competition, and it took him a second to remember he was in Barcelona.

Barcelona. The Grand Prix Final. With Victor. Yuuri patted the bed, searching for his glasses before sitting up and putting them on. Dark shapes blurred into focus, the second bed conspicuously empty.

“Huh? Where’s Victor?” he asked, as though the empty room could answer him. Talking to himself helped with the disorientation. Otherwise, it was too easy to think he could still be asleep when his mind was fuzzy with jetlag.

Pulling out his phone, Yuuri opened Instagram and started flipping through posts, attempting to track down his wayward coach.

“Oh, he’s at the pool with Chris,” he murmured, spotting a post from the Swiss skater’s account only a few minutes old. Chris and Victor were sitting side-by-side at the edge of the pool, one leg each raised and pointed like they were trying out for a synchronized swimming team.

With the sunglasses they both wore they could probably make it.

“Oh, Phichit’s here…” Yuuri said, as he scrolled to the next post. A perfectly framed selfie of Phichit in front of La Sagrada Familia. He’d known Phichit would be here, of course. But seeing his friend sightseeing around Barcelona really drove it home that they were both competing in the Grand Prix Final this year.

A little sliver of regret for sleeping off the jetlag instead of sightseeing wormed it’s way under Yuuri’s skin before he brushed it off. Rest was a part of work too, as Victor had told him. He could sightsee later.

Who else is here, already? He wondered, continuing to scroll.

“JJ…” who, by the looks of it, had just gotten engaged. If the matching rings he and his girlfriend were sporting could be any indication. Matching rings and matching cat ears...okay.

“Yurio...wow” The Russian punk was being mobbed by his fangirls-- also decked out in cat ears.

Yuuri sighed and flopped back onto his pillow, staring at the ceiling for a moment. His heart felt cold, and he knew it was because he was missing Victor.

Rolling onto his side, his left arm outstretched, Yuuri gazed down the length of his arm to the soulmark on his wrist.

“Yes.” If only that word wasn’t there. Just smooth skin instead of the ink that swirled between his veins. Or maybe it could read “Oh, you wanna get a photo?” Or possibly “Yuuri, starting today, I’m your new coach.”

Those had been Victor’s first words to him that day in the airport. And at the onsen.

Any hope Yuuri had had of Victor being his soulmate had perished that day.

But now…

“‘Now that I know what love is and am stronger for it, I’ll prove it with a Grand Prix Final gold medal,’ huh?” The cotton pillowcase was smooth against his cheek as he whispered the words into the dark room, cool sheets tangled around his feet.

It felt like that when he jumped, sometimes. Like there was something tangling around his feet as he flew through the air, tripping him up when he tried to land.

All the others could do it.

Phichit.

Chris.

JJ.

Even Yurio.

Especially Yurio.

But him...he could never quite get it right.

After everything he’d been through, after how hard he’d fought to keep Victor as his coach, after all the countless hours of training, Yuuri had really thought that he would be okay.

But being here, in Barcelona, almost exactly one year later...Yuuri could still feel the ice under his hands as he fell. The bruises blooming on his hips and thighs as he spectacularly self-destructed for the whole world to watch.

He rolled over, burying his face in the pillow and clutching it tight. Fingers threatening to tear through the hotel sheets, he fought to contain the rising panic as it mingled with despair and self-loathing. What the hell was he doing here?

“Help me, Victor.” He pushed the words out even though his throat was tight. Praying to an empty room as though his coach could hear him.

Maybe he could. At that moment the door slammed open and the lights turned on.

“Yuuri! I’m freezing! Please draw a hot bath!”

Yuuri peeled his face out of the pillow, looking up with a gasp. Victor and Chris stood in the doorway, hair still damp and smelling faintly of chlorine.

“Yuuri, can you make coffee, too?” Chris asked.

“You were still asleep?”

Blinking, eyes still trying to adjust to the sudden light, Yuuri sat up.  

“Woah!” It’s a hoarse, short scream, more a surprised shout than anything, as Victor launched himself at Yuuri, Chris following close behind.

Victor’s arms were cold where they wrapped around Yuuri and dragged him back down to the bed, knocking his glasses askew. Chris landed beside them, wrapping his arms around them both.

“Y-you’re freezing!” Yuuri stammered, wriggling in Victor’s grip. A hand slipped under Yuuri’s shirt and he shivered, pushing Victor off of him.

“Quit clinging to me! Both of you!” he said as he scrambled off of his bed and out of reach. Victor and Chris laughed, grabbing for him, trying to drag him back.

It didn’t matter how cold they were. That little piece of Yuuri’s heart was warm again, and the panic was gone.

Everything was going to be okay.

Victor was there.

Chapter Text

The next day at practice, Victor winced as Yuuri fell, yet again, trying to land a quadruple flip. It was the only way Yuuri could compete with JJ, but Yuuri had yet to land it.

Victor truly believed Yuuri could do it. But he doubted that Yuuri believed that, and seeing Yuuri fail the jump, yet again, fed that doubt.

Would that doubt be lesser or greater if I was skating too? Victor wondered. The weight of the empty arena had been sitting on his shoulders for the entire practice session. It was oppressive in its emptiness, somehow more haunting than when it was filled with crowds.

When it was filled, Victor could pretend he was just waiting for his turn on the ice.

Empty...there was no way he could deny he wasn’t skating. The tug-of-war started up inside him again, his gut regretting ever leaving the ice, his heart pulling towards Yuuri, called to provide for his soulmate above all else.

He needed to be Yuuri’s rock.

But the way Yuuri skated off the ice had Victor reconsidering. Despite wiping out, Yuuri was still confident. Strong. Assured. There was no doubt in him, Victor thought. Yuuri steadied himself with a hand on Victor’s shoulder as wiped his skates and put on his guards.

No doubt whatsoever.

It was both a relief and--somehow--disappointing. Did Yuuri still need him if he didn’t doubt himself? That--not the fact that they were soulmates--was the entire foundation of their relationship.

If that was gone would Yuuri even still want him around?

“Yuuri, what do you want to do now?” Victor asked.”I recommend a good night’s rest to prepare for tomorrow’s short program.”

I don’t want you waking up sleep-deprived and anxious again. Not like the Cup of China. You need to be your best here. For you and for me.

Because maybe, just maybe, if Yuuri saw what they could do together...he’d keep skating. Forever.

“Don’t be such a model coach now,” Yuuri said, straightening and holding up a finger, as if to lecture Victor. The flat, unimpressed stare was...different.

Very different. But…

“This is my first time in Barcelona, so take me sightseeing.” It was the demand of a boyfriend, not a student, and for a moment, Victor was taken aback. This wasn’t like Yuuri.

But it  was wonderful. The bond trilled in delight.

“Leave it to me!”

The pang of regret he’d felt earlier faded as they shopped and Yuuri drank in the city, cheeks flushed with excitement in the chill air.

The uncertainty gnawing at Victor’s gut eased every time Yuuri smiled over some little trinket he oohed and awed at. That smile soothed every one of Victor’s worries.

Retirement. Returning. Missing the ice. Yuuri leaving. The competition.

He could think about all of that later. For now, he just wanted Yuuri to keep smiling as they toured around Barcelona.

-----

Yuuri was never going to forget Barcelona.

Even the incident with the nuts bag wasn’t enough to dampen his mood. He’d followed Victor from landmark to landmark all day, shopping down cobbled boulevards, drinking in the sights and smells of Spain.

He could really come to love this city, he thought, as he and Victor walked into the Christmas market. Stalls crowded close and hung with twinkle lights, handmade gifts and decorations piled high on their shelves. Handcrafted food and drink on display at every turn.

It really was beautiful.

“Victor, your birthday is Christmas Day, right?” he asked, smiling at his coach. His silver hair sparkled under the twinkle lights.

“Yeah.”

“What would you like for your gift?” Yuuri asked as they walked. The thought was there that he could make up for the nuts incident, but more than that...he wanted to give Victor something to remember him by. A way to say thank you--for everything.

Something Victor would treasure and cherish forever. Even if he left Yuuri one day.

“In Russia, we don’t celebrate before the actual birthday,” Victor murmured, sipping from the red plastic cup of wine he’d purchased from a vendor a few stalls back.

“We don’t really celebrate Christmas, either,” he added, an inscrutable look on his face.

“I see,” Yuuri said, turning his gaze forward so Victor wouldn’t see his disappointment. He’d just have to find another reason to get Victor a gift then, Yuuri thought.

“Do you want some hot wine, too?” Victor asked, offering Yuuri his cup.  

“I try not to drink before a competition,” Yuuri said. He wasn’t great with alcohol at the best of times, and by the time he’d had enough to settle his nerves, he was so drunk he could barely lace his skates. No matter how anxious he got about competing, hangovers would never help Yuuri’s performance.

“Oh, right.”

Victor fell silent beside him and they kept walking through the market. Touring stalls with miniature Christmas trees, stuffed animals, snowmen. Decorations of every kind.

But nothing felt right. Yuuri didn’t want Victor to think of Christmas when he looked at Yuuri’s gift. Yuuri wanted Victor to remember him .

Maybe that was a bit selfish, but it needed to be something with meaning. Something that could make Victor remember him after their time together was gone -- even if it couldn’t tie Victor to him. Only the words on his arm could do that, and Yuuri’s were all wrong.

The yellow glow of a shop window caught Yuuri’s eye. Squinting, he tried to make out what that strange glint was…

And then squeaked when he realized what he was looking at. It was perfect, but did they have--

Yuuri ran forward, pressing his nose to the glass case as he searched for it. It needed to be the right style, not too fancy, not too plain. These weren’t quite right but...

“Victor, let’s go in here!” he said.  

-------------

Victor followed Yuuri into the jewelry store, completely baffled as his soulmate started talking to the clerk. Asking about styles and sizes before settling on not just one ring, but two.

Two matching gold rings.

Victor could barely believe his eyes. He stood there, frozen. Breath coming fast and shallow. Not panicked, but not really able to move, lest he wake up and this all be a dream.

Yuuri was buying rings.

One of which was in his size.

In a daze, Victor followed him out of the store as Yuuri tapped something into his phone. Nodding, he started to talk, turning down a few side streets before they came to the steps of a church. A choir, dressed in white coats, santa hats, and reindeer antlers caroled in front as he and Yuuri climbed the steps to the front gates.

The doors were closed and locked. The church obviously shut down for the night, and Yuuri stopped when he reached the top of the steps, turning to face Victor.

White exterior lights backlit Yuuri, highlighting the blush on his cheeks and rich dark brown of his hair as he reached for Victor’s hand and pulled off the glove.

Sometimes, when backed into a corner, athletes can act completely unexpectedly, Victor thought as Yuuri slid the gold ring onto his finger. The metal was warm from Yuuri’s hands. The ring heavy, but grounding. Comforting. Like the soulbond in his heart now had a physical presence in the world. A claim laid on him by his soulmate for all to see.

The bells chimed, and Victor couldn’t think of a more romantic moment, until Yuuri started to speak.

“Thank you for everything up to now. I...I couldn’t think of something better.”

Oh Yuuri, what could be better than this?

“But, um...I’ll try my best from tomorrow on, so...Tell me something for good luck.” The doubt, the awkwardness--it was so unexpected after how confident he’d been on the ice earlier today. But it was also so Yuuri. This beautiful contradiction of strength and certainty with embarassed vulnerability. Victor’s heart melted a little more.

As though Victor could ever meet his soulmate with anything less than unconditional love.

Yuuri couldn’t even meet his eyes, his cheeks flushed a bright rosy red.

Victor’s smile was soft was he took Yuuri’s hand.

“Sure. I’ll tell you something that you won’t even have to think about.”

“Tomorrow, skate in a way that’s true to yourself. Show me a program that makes you proud,” he said, sliding the second ring onto Yuuri’s finger. The slight tremble of his soulmate’s hands stilled once the ring was on.

Yuuri’s amber brown eyes sparkled with some combination of joy and determination and -- Victor hoped -- love.

“Yeah.” Yuuri’s voice was soft, filled with too many emotions for Victor to name. But that word felt like their soulbond. Bright and soft and his entire reason for living.  

That’s the only shortcut to a gold medal I know.

The walked off down the street, arms around one another, a sense of peace and contentment floating between the two of them.

“I’m hungry,” Yuuri confessed after a few steps, blushing and tilting his head towards Victor.

Victor laughed. “Let’s go grab a bite.”

I have absolute faith in what you decide, Yuuri, he thought as they strolled through Barcelona hand in hand. I have absolute faith in you .  

Whatever the future held, they’d figure it out together.

Chapter Text

When Victor had suggested dinner, Yuuri hadn’t expected to be commandeered by his sister and Minako for a massive gathering of skaters. He’d been thinking more of a romantic dinner for two, not the eight of them crowded around a table in a large, tented seating area.

The food, at least, was lovely, despite Yurio scowling at it.

“Still, it’s kind of weird of us all to be here like this before the Final starts,” Yuuri said after they’d been served. It was weird, but nice. He was used to being alone all the time, and even after all the help he’d received this year, realizing that he had friends willing to eat with him was still something of a shock.

A nice one, but not something he’d thought he could have. Except apparently it had been there all along. He’d just had to reach out and see it.

“At last year’s Final, I was always by myself, even at the banquet,” he continued. The banquet last year had been painful. Yuuri hadn’t wanted to show his face, but Celestino had made him go -- despite the fact that he had absolutely zero chance of impressing any sponsors after that performance.

“I couldn’t even talk to Victor.” The one thing he’d wanted to do -- and he’d been too cowardly to even approach his now-coach. Amazing how things could change in a year, Yuuri thought, smiling as he spoke.

Victor choked, spewing beer across the table and Yuuri frowned. What--?

“Yuuri, you don’t remember?”  Victor asked, staring him down, something about his expression deeply concerning. A strange tension took up residence in Yuuri’s chest.

Huh ?

“What?” he asked, completely surprised. Taken aback, actually, by the intensity of Victor’s gaze. Sea-blue eyes boring into his, hard and almost...desperate?

Chris’s voice broke their staring match. “Yuuri, you got drunk on champagne and started dancing. Everyone saw it.”

The amusement dripping from his voice was just as mortifying as the content of his words.

“Huh?” It was verbal this time, and a bit distressed. He didn’t remember any of this.

“That was disgusting as hell,” Yurio said at the other end of the table, scowling Yuuri. “I was dragged into a dance-off and got humiliated, too!”

Oh no. “A dance-off? With Yurio?” This just kept getting worse. How much had he drunk?

“I did mine with a pole-dance, half naked,” Chris said, an angelic smile beaming off his face.

Yuuri covered his burning cheeks with his hands, one eye twitching under the horrified shame that was making it hard to breathe.

“I start going off the rails when I drink, just like my Kyushu born-and-bred dad, so I was trying to lay off, but…” Yuuri trailed off into silence, unable to go any farther. Wracking his brain for any scrap of memory of that night.

“I still have videos of what happened,” Victor said, offering his phone to Yuuri, his expression caught somewhere between complete blankness and fond amusement. There was something darker underneath all of it though, and --

There were videos?!! Yuuri jumped about three feet into the air, stifling his scream with his hands. This couldn’t be happening. It had to be some sort of nightmare.

“I do, too.” Chris said, offering his phone to Phichit.

The Thai skater hunched over the phone. “Wait, what? Yuuri, that’s so dirty.” The comment may have been directed to Yuuri, but Phichit couldn’t take his eyes off of Chris’s phone. If anything, he pulled it closer.

The next few minutes were a chaotic blur of trying to keep Mari and Minako away from the pictures, reassuring Phichit that no, he and Victor were not married, Victor announcing that they were engaged, and trying to not melt into a human puddle of mortification under the table.

JJ’s arrival was almost a blessing.

Yuuri breathed easier as they all filed out of the restaurant, cheeks still burning but some of the mortification now fading that he was alone with Victor.

Victor looked...not happy, Yuuri realized as they walked back to the hotel. There was something off about him, and that strange tension still filled Yuuri’s chest.

He’d spoken to Victor at the banquet and he didn’t remember it. The word on his arm itched. No. There was no way--Victor would have said something. He would have told Yuuri, reminded him that they were soulmates.

But what if …

No. Not possible, Yuuri thought, shoes clicking on the cobblestones, their hotel coming into sight as they rounded a corner.

They weren’t soulmates.

The word on his arm wasn’t Victor’s “yes.” But the ring on his finger was. A warm, golden weight that bound them together more firmly than any soulbond.

They’d chosen each other. That was enough for Yuuri.

-----

The feeling of gold rubbing against leather under his gloves had been thrilling, at first. Now, it was confusing as Victor and Yuuri walked back to the hotel.

Yuuri had given him something so precious, even more precious than their soulbond, in many ways, but then…

I couldn’t even talk to Victor.

The absolute horror on Yuuri’s face had frozen Victor’s blood. Yuuri couldn’t fake that. He wouldn’t fake it -- that wasn’t the kind of person he was.

A strange numbness had settled over Victor. His heart should have been breaking, shattered on the restaurant floor at discovering that Yuuri didn’t remember the banquet. (Shattered, the way it did in the Sochi airport a year ago.)

Instead, it kept beating steadily inside his chest. Normal speed, normal rate, pumping blood through his veins. Nothing more. No panic or fear coursing through him.  

But Yuuri didn’t remember.

Yuuri. Didn’t. Remember.

He should be devastated that his soulmate didn’t remember their first meeting. And he is. But it’s a cold kind of devastated. The kind that could hold itself together, hiding under smiles and photos and witty banter until it was alone and the nameless, devastating emotions fighting to come to the surface could be released.

For now, though, the dull fog kept him from feeling the sudden hole that he was sure was yawning in the pit of his stomach as he and Yuuri meandered down the side streets of Barcelona, winding their way -- eventually -- back to their hotel.

I couldn’t even talk to Victor .

Yuuri didn’t remember anything.

Every moment of their relationship ran through Victor’s mind. Every advance, every twitch of Yuuri’s, every slight, every rejection -- every time Victor had thought that Yuuri, his soulmate, didn’t want him …

Even the ring felt different now. Before, it had felt like Yuuri was finally, viscerally laying claim to what had always-- always -- been his.

Now...

Everything was different now.

The numbness Victor had been wrapped in started to lift as they approached their hotel. He almost wished it hadn’t. Everything felt louder, brighter. The faint clatter of their shoes on the cobblestones grated in his ears, ridiculously loud for just two people. The aftertaste of the beer he’d been drinking was sour at the back of his throat. The warm, wool-blend fabric of his coat scratched against his neck.

The warm, clean scent that was Yuuri wafted over to him, and did nothing to soothe him.

Yuuri didn’t know.

They were walking back to their hotel room together, and Yuuri didn’t know they were soulmates. That the entire reason Victor had flown across the globe to pursue him, that the entire reason Victor was even breathing, was because Yuuri Katsuki was his soulmate.

The tickle at the back of his throat might have been panic. Maybe despair. Rage, anguish, endless regret. Never-ending longing.

But the ring was heavy and warm on his finger. A solid anchor that somehow was the only thing keeping Victor from floating away on the tide of his own confused feelings.

Even not knowing that they were soulmates, Yuuri had chosen him.

And Yuuri…

Yuuri was quiet as they walked. Brown hair gleaming under the occasional streetlamp. A blush still dusting the tops of his cheeks and adorable pinkish-red in the night.

This silence between them was fragile and unnatural. Like they were both waiting for something, neither one wanting to make the first move and potentially shatter their relationship.**

When they entered the hotel lobby, the silence stretched. It filled the room, echoing around them despite stone and glass and plush carpets beneath their feet. It followed them into the elevator, haunting them as they rode up to their room, following them inside.

One of them was going to have to say something, Victor thought, pulling off his gloves.

The slope of Yuuri’s shoulders as he shrugged off his coat told Victor he was still embarrassed by the revelation about the banquet last year. Victor slid his own coat off, throwing his scarf over top of it.

“Hey, Victor,” Yuuri’s voice was soft, quiet. His right hand was curled around his left bicep, like he was trying to comfort himself as he stared out their window. “Why did you want to coach me?” he asked.

“Huh?” That was the last question Victor had been expecting.

“Was it because of something that happened at the banquet? Because if this” Yuuri waved his free hand, somehow encompassing everything in the room, the competition, and everything that had ever passed between them in the one gesture, “was all just because of something I said when I was drunk...You can stop now.”

“Yuuri, it’s not like that,” Victor said, raising both hands gently, as if to comfort him. ”You didn’t even remember any of this until tonight.”

“I still don’t! But…” Yuuri bit his lip. “I need to know you’re here because you want to be,” he said, eyes somehow completely uncertain yet filled with resolve.

They met Victor’s -- that soulful brown with more depth than any ocean. There was so much love in them Victor stopped breathing.

“You know I’d choose you, even over my soulmate, right?” Yuuri’s voice quavered, but his eyes held firm.

How could a heart break and be so full of happiness at the same time?

“Yuuri, you are my soulmate.”

Chapter Text

Yuuri stood beside Victor in the elevator, a tense silence spreading between them. Neither of them knew what to say, both lost in thought and waiting for something to happen.

They entered their room in silence, and Yuuri slipped his coat off.

Even after he’d made a complete fool of himself, Victor still became his coach, he thought, moving to stand in front of the window. The lights of Barcelona twinkled in the darkness, almost warm and cheery enough to make Yuuri pull the curtains so he could hide from them. Almost. Closing the curtains wouldn’t close out the memory of those photos.

“Hey, Victor,” Yuuri swallowed the lump in his throat, forcing the words out. He needed to know. Before tomorrow. Or the doubt would devastate him on the ice.

“Why did you want to coach me?”

The stunned silence behind him was broken with a “Huh?” Yuuri didn’t need to turn around to be able to guess at the expression on Victor’s face. It was that poleaxed one, with a hint of sadness beneath it.

“Was it because of something that happened at the banquet? Because if this” Yuuri waved a hand, trying to put their entire relationship, something that felt so big, into words, “was all just because of something I said when I was drunk..You can stop now.”

A piece of his heart -- that warm, glowing one he’s come to associate with Victor -- trembled. It’s terrified, but small and defiant and proud at the same time. The answer might shatter it permanently, but it still needed to know.

“Yuuri, it’s not like that. You didn’t even remember any of this until tonight.” Victor’s voice is soft, soothing, conciliatory. Almost like Yuuri’s being ridiculous, and he is, a little. Why would the greatest figure skater in the world coach him after that debacle?

“I still don’t! But…” the sting of his teeth biting into his lower lip grounded him. Reminded him that no, this wasn’t a dream, and he needed to press on.

“I need to know you’re here because you want to be,” Yuuri said, turning and lifting his eyes to meet Victor’s.

The calm sea blue was deeply troubled now, shadows Yuuri had never seen before lurking in their depths. Something deeply painful was weighing on Victor, and Yuuri would rather skate through a broken heart than see that pain continue.

“You know I’d choose you, even over my soulmate, right?” The words were soft and his voice wavered a bit, but Yuuri held firm. He needed Victor to know this. To know that he was the most precious person in Yuuri’s life. That he was the one person Yuuri wanted to hold on to, forever.

But only if he wanted to stay too.

Victor sighed, and there was a world of emotions Yuuri couldn’t understand in it. Sadness, grief, regret, relief, some faint glimmer of joy, despair, fatigue.

He’d thought, he’d hoped that Victor might be happy, down in that tiny, hidden corner of his heart that had dared to hope. Even in the dark of the night, their hands fumbling and caressing between the sheets, neither of them had ever said the words ‘soulmate’ or ‘love.’ It wasn’t forbidden, they just never spoke of it.

Then Victor spoke and Yuuri’s entire world shifted.  

“Yuuri, you are my soulmate.”

Yuuri knew he was standing upright. He could feel the length of his spine down his back, feel the hotel carpet squishing beneath his shoes. Maybe it was the building that had started spinning? The whole tower leaning 45 degrees behind him.

“What?” It’s not so much a word as a sound of disbelief.

Silent, Victor slid his phone out of his pocket, tapping on the screen until he found what he was looking for.

“Here.” Yuuri took the phone, gripping it in both hands to steady himself. “Chris took this one. He sent it to me after the banquet last year.”

Yuuri’s heart pounded as he read the video’s title: “Soulmates ;)”

Gripping the phone case so hard his knuckles went white, Yuuri tapped play. The blurry cover shot of last year’s banquet hall started to move, figures and people quickly coming into focus.

And there was Yuuri, dancing and grinding on the dance floor. There were a few murmured sounds, a few laughs, but nothing distinct enough to make out on the cellphone video until Yuuri spun around. He didn’t have his pants on and his tie was hanging around his forehead.

The dread and shame watching it was almost crippling, but Yuuri forced himself to keep watching.

On screen, his spin stopped and he wobbled a little, giggling before looking up and almost directly at the camera. He gasped. “Look! It’s Victor! Victor!”

Those words…

Those words. Words every fan of Victor Nikiforov’s knew by heart. Words Yuuri had known since he was a teenager.

Those words came from Yuuri’s mouth. A gasp trembled from Yuuri’s lips as he continued to watch.

In the video, he flung himself almost directly towards the camera, just a touch to one side. The camera (presumably held by Chris) followed him as he wrapped his arms around Victor. Sing-song drunken babbling falling from his lips.

“Victor...After this season ends, my family runs a hot springs resort, so please come.”

Oh god I was so drunk, Yuuri thought, seeing the reddened cheeks and wide—almost vacant—brown eyes. I was so drunk. Had he just said the words because he was drunk? Had he deliberately been trying to see if Victor was his soulmate?

“If I win this dance-off...You’ll become my coach, right? Be my coach, Victor!”

Yuuri cringed. He’d probably been too drunk to even think of that--

“Yes.” In the video, Victor breathed the word and Yuuri’s entire world stopped. The tattoo on his wrist pulsed, echoing its reaction from a year ago.

Yes.

Tears spilled down Yuuri’s face as he covered his gasp with a shaking hand.

Yes.

That word. That one word he’d waited so long to hear. It had been Victor.

And Yuuri didn’t remember.

Shudders wracked his body as Victor’s phone thudded onto the carpet. Strong arms caught Yuuri as he sank towards the floor, then wrapped around him as Yuuri sobbed into his hands.

“Yuuri, it’s okay,” Victor’s voice whispered into his ear, one hand cradling the back of his head.

The tears came harder.

Victor was his soulmate. Victor Nikiforov was. His. Soulmate.

He wanted to scream with joy.

But he’d forgotten all of it.

Victor’s fingers rubbed small, soothing circles into Yuuri’s scalp. Eventually, the sobs slowed.

“It’s okay,” Victor said again as Yuuri found his voice. A sudden anger gave Yuuri strength he didn’t know he’d had.

“No, it’s not!” Yuuri pushed Victor away, sitting back on his hands. “I—“ the grief was nearly overwhelming and Yuuri’s voice cut out again.

Victor raised a hand, caressing the side of Yuuri’s face.

“I didn’t understand at first, why you kept running away from me,” Victor confessed, turning his eyes away from Yuuri, hiding behind his bangs. “I spent months thinking you didn’t want me. And then, when I came to Hasetsu…at first you pulled away.”

Yuuri flinched. He had, hadn’t he? he thought, remembering those first few days. Victor’s strong, obvious advances had been bewildering

But… if Victor was his soulmate… everything started to piece together for Yuuri.

“But then you started to open up, and I thought… “

“You quit skating.” Yuuri pulled off his glasses and set them on the floor. The lenses were covered in tears and he could barely see through them.

“You quit skating for me,” he whispered. The weight of that—Chris’s comment about keeping Victor to himself…all of it had new meaning, so heavy Yuuri could barely stand it.

Victor shook his head. “None of it means anything without you.”

Eyes the colour of the sea, like that day they’d spent on the beach with Makkachin. When Victor had asked what Yuuri wanted him to be for Yuuri. And Yuuri—

Yuuri had never suspected that he could have said soulmate, the way he’d been aching to. And Victor...Victor would have said ‘yes.’

Victor had already said yes.

Yuuri looked down to the word on his wrist. Victor reached out, taking his hand, running his thumb along the black letters in a caress that made Yuuri shiver.

Yuuri looked up and pressed his lips to Victor’s. The kiss slow and deep, full of meaning and all the emotions Yuuri couldn’t name or say.

“Come on,” Victor said, “you’ve had a long day.” Rising, he held out his hands to Yuuri, and pulled his soulmate back up to his feet. “Let’s go to bed.”

Yuuri nodded, going through all the motions on autopilot before crawling into bed with Victor. Face buried in his soulmate’s chest, Yuuri fell asleep to the soothing motion of Victor’s fingers carding through his hair.

Chapter Text

 Ice. The cold press of ice under his fingertips haunted Yuuri. It dogged him through the step sequence, tingling up his fingers and into his arm.

Goddamn it.

He’d had it. He’d been so sure he’d be able to land that jump.

He was skating for Victor, after all. Why couldn’t he do it?

Yuuri spun and danced through the rest of the routine, muscles burning, heart pounding. The kiss of the ice still tingled up his arm.

Skate in a way that’s true to yourself. Show me a program that makes you proud.

He wasn’t proud of this, Yuuri thought, coming to a stop.

He wasn’t proud of this.

Yuuri’s knees gave out and he sank to the ice. His fists clenched on top of the ice, arms and hair hiding his tears from the audience before they froze into the rink. Jagged little circles slowly freezing into white.

The freezing burn of ice seeped into his hands—both of them this time. Freezing out the faint whisper of Victor’s lips against his ring.

Skate in a way that’s true to yourself. Show me a program that makes you proud.

The roar of the crowd was deafening, but the absence of Victor’s voice was what Yuuri heard the most.

Slowly, he rose. Even his bones felt tired after that performance.

And how the hell could he face his soulmate after that? Their bond may have been a year old now, but to Yuuri, it was brand new. Stunning in its beauty and joy, and so fragile he ached with it.

Yuuri trembled. He didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to face--

A warm little pulse of...something flared inside Yuuri’s heart. The piece he’d always associated with Victor, the one that would leave him forever if Victor ever left. The piece he now knew was their soulbond.

That piece was warm and bright and Yuuri...Yuuri had to look up.

There was Victor, standing at the exit, a soft smile on his face. He wasn’t happy with Yuuri’s performance any more than Yuuri was--that was written all over the lines of his shoulders, the set of his jaw. Even his eyes.

But it wasn’t anger or disappointment. It was...Victor felt it for Yuuri. Not because of Yuuri.

How he knew that, he had no idea. Except for that little warm spot in his chest. Yuuri knew Victor’s heart still beat for him. No matter how badly he’d messed up.

That was what pulled him to his feet and let him skate off the ice into Victor’s arms. Victor squeezed his shoulder, wrapping an arm around him as they walked to the kiss and cry.

That was what got him through Phichit’s performance, through talking to the reporters after. That little warmth fuelled the resolve building inside Yuuri. He’d do better. He had to.

Why was he even skating if not for Victor?

---

It was the line of Victor’s jaw that convinced Yuuri: just doing better wouldn’t ever be enough for Victor.

Doing better wouldn’t even be enough for himself. The revelation of their soulmate bond had shifted everything.

Jogging up the stairs to the viewing stands, Yuuri stopped mid-step, Victor’s name frozen on his lips. The applause was thunderous; Yurio’s performance must have been breathtaking.

Victor was the only person in the arena not cheering. A dark spectre haunting the railing, hands clenched in front of him. His shoulders set rigid and tight with anger, jaw grim and sad and pissed off, all at the same time.

How he must ache to be out on the ice with us right now, Yuuri thought as Yurio’s score was announced.  

A new world record. Wow, Yurio…

Twin embers of pride in the younger skater and sorrow for Victor burned inside Yuuri. It was one thing to have your record broken. It was another for it to happen immediately after you left the ice.

Victor turned from the railing, as if to head back down to the athlete’s areas and blinked when he saw Yuuri.

“I got curious about how it was going, too,” Yuuri said.

“Chris is about to take the ice. Let’s find a seat.” Maybe no one else would have noticed the subdued tone, falsely light, but Yuuri did.

They took their seats as Chris took the ice. Fondness lifted some of the gloom from Victor’s face.

He watched the other performances, but really, Yuuri was watching Victor. Gauging his mood, his thoughts from the way his shoulders shifted, the faint flickers of emotion across his face.

That flicker grows by the time Otabek leaves the ice. Yes, his performance was stunning and exotic. No hesitation, every move filled with a fierce determination.

Victor loved it.

And Yuuri...Yuuri knows he needs to stop this now. This joy--Victor needs this joy. He may have been happier last night, when Yuuri remembered their soulbond, but this.

Victor is content . Figure skating is a hole inside him that even Yuuri’s love cannot fulfill.

It was one thing for Victor to agree to stay with him until retirement when Yuuri was just his lover and student. When Yuuri was someone he could walk away from, theoretically, even if Yuuri had made the decision to retire once the Grand Prix Final was over.

It was another thing entirely for Yuuri to keep his soulmate from the ice.

“Huh, another score higher than the pig’s.”

Yurio’s words were a physical blow, and Yuuri slumped, the plastic arena seat hard and cold behind his back.

Yurio was right though. Otabek did outscore him. And Yuuri had to face the undeniable fact that just watching him skate and coaching him will never be enough to satisfy Victor Nikiforov.

Chapter Text

That hollow never-enough feeling settled into his stomach, lining it through dinner, gnawing away at Yuuri as Victor showered.

What if Victor retired? What if he retired to stay Yuuri’s coach? He wanted that more than anything. To skate with Victor for the rest of his life. Until they were wrinkled old men, hunched over and barely able to balance as they hobbled around the ice.

But Victor…the way he smiled this afternoon...

Yuuri would give anything to see his soulmate happy like that again. Even his own career.

The water turned off, silence abruptly loud in the hotel suite. Yuuri grabbed his phone and started scrolling through photos as he waited for Victor. Anything to distract him from the conversation they needed to have.

Victor sat down across from Yuuri, swathed in a fluffy white robe, patting at his hair with a towel.

Another one of Phichit’s selfies—this time with Chris (blowing a kiss to the camera) and the mystery brunet who’d been with him in the kiss and cry. Yuuri made a note to ask Victor about him later.

Minako, Mari, and Celestino were in a brightly lit bar, cocktails in hand and just happy enough to be bordering on tipsy. Better stay away from that restaurant if they went out. Which wasn’t likely, given what Yuuri was about to say.

“Apparently, Minako-sensei’s drinking with Celestino at a bar,” Yuuri said, breaking the comfortable silence with a small chuckle.  

Victor laughed. “Wow, best to keep our distance,” he said, dropping his towel.

“By the way, Yuuri...What did you want to talk to me about?” Yuuri looked up; Victor’s eyes are bright, happy. His skin glowing from the shower, strands of wet silver darkened to grey by the water.

“Right.” Yuuri soaked in Victor’s happiness for a moment. Basked in the warm glow coming from their soulbond.

His hands knotted into fists on his thighs, fighting the urge to walk away. He would have before. The person he was before he met Victor would have absolutely run from this conversation, would have pushed Victor away the way he did that girl in the waiting room in Detroit.

Yuuri let out the breath he had been holding, seeking his voice in the emptiness inside him. This would hurt. He had no doubt about that. But this was what Victor needed. And Yuuri wouldn’t hold his soulmate back, not anymore.  

This was absolutely the right choice.

“After the Final, let’s end this.”

Every line of Victor’s body stiffened, the relaxed, happy repose gone. Yuuri could have slapped Victor and he would have jumped just as hard.

“Huh?” It was a soft, quiet, confused sound.

“You’ve done more than enough for me, Victor,” Yuuri rushed on, needing to get the words out. Needed to end this before it could go any further and keep Victor off the ice. He could still return, if Yuuri ended things now. They could figure out something -- long distance maybe, or Yuuri could move to St. Petersburg. He wasn’t leaving Victor’s side, not like that. But he was leaving the ice, so that Victor could--no, would --take his place in the spotlight again.

“Thanks to you, I was able to give everything I had to my last season. Thank you for everything, Victor.”

Yuuri bowed, hands on his knees, hiding from blue eyes filled with shock and anger and confusion. “Thank you for being my coach.”

The words were sincere, and Yuuri’s voice held steady. A small part of him was amazed at how calm he was. He should be quaking. He would have been, a year ago.

He didn’t want to look up, too afraid to shatter the sudden silence.

Then, a tear splashed onto Victor’s foot, rolling off and dripping on to the dark carpet.

No…

Compelled, Yuuri lifted his gaze.

Victor Nikiforov--five-time consecutive world figure skating champion, Yuuri’s life long idol, Yuuri’s soulmate --was crying.

Something about Victor just...shattered. That innocent joy he took in so many things (that hid his cruel, brutal honesty so well) was just...gone.

He looked broken, Yuuri realized. Like Yuuri had stolen something more precious than he’d understood.

“Victor?”

Blinking, Victor’s tears continued to fall. “Damn...I didn’t expect Katsuki Yuuri to be such a selfish human being,” he said. It was petulant, annoyed, reproachful, but also deeply, deeply hurt.

“Right.” It is selfish. Forcing Victor back on the ice because he doesn’t want to carry that burden is selfish. Deciding on this alone without talking things through with Victor is selfish. But Victor would never allow this. Victor would -- Victor already had -- sacrificed part of his career for Yuuri. To help Yuuri get better.

And Yuuri refused to return his soulmate’s gift by forcing him to waste away, becoming cold and bitter because he couldn’t return to the ice which held his heart as surely as Yuuri did.

So he was doing it anyway.

“I made this selfish decision on my own. I’m retiring.” In Yuuri’s mind, it was final. Telling Victor was the hard part, telling the rest of the world--they’ll be surprised, now. But it’s not a big deal. His career never amounted to much. This was his best season, and he still hasn’t won a gold medal.

Better that he quietly fades away now, and let’s Victor have what glory remains for him.

Tears continue to fall from Victor’s eyes. The Russian makes no move to stop them, and Yuuri can’t take it.

He reaches out, brushes Victor’s bangs off of his forehead. Damp silver hair clinging to the back of Yuuri’s hand, like it’s begging him not to go.

Victor’s face is such a riot of emotions. Sadness and hurt and a slow resentful anger at being excluded. The last one was etched into the line of Victor’s brow. It echoed in his voice: “What are you doing, Yuuri?”

“Oh, I’m just surprised to see you cry.” He’d expected Victor to be mad. To yell and rage and push back, to beg him to keep skating. Or to just...go along with it. Yuuri was 24 now. Retirement wasn’t that far off anyway.

“I’m mad, okay?” Victor slapped Yuuri’s hand away, and it occurred to Yuuri that he’d never seen Victor mad before. Peeved, certainly. Annoyed? Definitely. But truly mad? Never.

Victor Nikiforov cried when he was mad.

Suddenly, Yuuri was far less sure that this was the right decision.

“You’re the one who said it was only until the Grand Prix Final!” It’s a desperate last play, part defense, part barb. But Yuuri didn’t have anything left as his newfound uncertainty about the whole situation started to unravel his resolve.

“I thought you needed my help more.” Victor’s words were calm, cold. Matter of fact. Yuuri wasn’t sure if they were praise or criticism.

“Aren’t you going to make a comeback?” Every cell in his being begged Victor to say yes. Say yes to the way his eyes lit up watching the other skaters, say yes to being in that joy again. Say yes, to Yuuri not having to carry the guilt of his soulmate retiring just to coach him , a dime-a-dozen Japanese figure skater. “You don’t have to worry about me--”

“How can you tell me to return to the ice while saying you’re retiring?” Victor’s voice was full of venom as he stood, gripping Yuuri’s shoulders. His fingers pressed tightly against Yuuri’s bones, bordering on painful. Drops of water fell from his hair into Yuuri’s face.

“The ice means nothing without you!” The words were quiet but his tone was fierce and Yuuri trembled under Victor’s hands.

What had he done to win such devotion?

The sheer force of it was dizzying. Looking into Victor’s eyes felt like falling into a glacier-coloured abyss, full of such a fierce love it was all Yuuri could do to keep breathing.

“After the Final, then.” His mouth moved without him being aware, the words slipping out to delay the inevitable. “We’ll each decide after the final.”

Victor nodded, a firm agreement before letting go and getting ready ready for bed.

When he slipped into bed behind Yuuri, one arm wrapped around his stomach and pulled his soulmate close. And Yuuri knew, no matter what they decided, Victor was never going to let him go.

Somehow, that made the entire argument worth it.

Chapter Text

It was a strange feeling that filled Victor as he leaned against the boards with his arms crossed. Not even so much a feeling as an absence of feeling. This wasn’t the calm before a storm, or the quiet after a long exhale.

It was a moment of complete clarity and presence. A complete and absolute absence of expectation.

It was, quite frankly, uncomfortable. Victor was used to being tense or nervous or cheering Yuuri on. But now...at what could possibly be the last free skate of Yuuri’s career...Victor felt nothing.

No, not nothing. His eyes drank in every movement. The long, graceful lines of Yuuri’s body moving as though the music was coming from inside him. As though this routine had been pulled from his very soul.

In a way, it had. Given the bond they shared and everything they’d been through.

Watching Yuuri, Victor forgot about the future. About the other skaters, the cheering crowd. He watched as every line, every movement of Yuuri’s body told a story, conveyed some aspect of the love he felt.

Victor wanted this moment, this performance, to never end.

He’d never intended to retire. This had only ever been a break...until Yuuri asked him to stay.

How could he leave the man who had brought joy and inspiration back into figure skating for him? Who was endlessly surprising and delighting, him.  

Today, Yuuri skated with complete ease. His jumps looked effortless, even lazy. No hint of uncertainty in that quad-double toe loop combination, not a waver in the Salchow. The triple loop was next. Not a flicker of doubt or nerves in Yuuri’s body as he leaped--

He changed it from the triple loop...Yuuri, you can’t be serious.

Victor stood up straighter, an odd tension creeping into his muscles. The tension of something he was trying to be both aware and unaware of at the same time.

Yuuri wasn’t--

There was no way to tell until he finished--

Except he was.

Victor knew it. Yuuri’s intent burned through their soulbond. And every part of Victor ached to be out there with him.

Graceful choreography, delicate movements so beautiful. Spread eagle. Ina Bauer.

Triple axel.

Yuuri’s ring glinted under the stadium lights. It all looked so effortless for him. He wasn’t present, not really, Victor knew. He knew that feeling of losing yourself in the emotion, in the movement, the performance, intimately. That was what he called inspiration. That was what he had seen when Yuuri skated Stay Close to Me.

Those moments of pure feeling you could only experience on the ice.

Moments he ached to share with Yuuri.

“A triple flip is planned next.” The announcer’s voice was a faint buzz, like an echo of Victor’s memory repeating back to him the sequence of Yuuri’s jumps.

“A quadruple toe loop?” The crowd cheered as Yuuri landed the jump, flowing back into the choreography as though the two were each simply extensions of the other.

They were. But had never skated them that way before.

A quad? You added another for a total of four quads, Yuuri?

Every movement was a challenge. All the things Victor had never said, never expressed about skating -- all the philosophies he’d never been able to voice--flowed through Yuuri’s fingertips. They danced through the air, filling the rink, transfixing the audience, surprising them more than a performance by Victor ever could.

Yes, Yuuri. I know what you’re trying to say.

He didn’t need the soulbond. They didn’t need the soulbond. Yuuri’s love was so clear, so true.

He’d become one of the top figure skaters in the world. For Victor.

He’d faced his fears, built his confidence, and blossomed. For Victor.

He was skating, now, for Victor. Portraying the kind of love -- not just for another person, but a love of the ice, of skating itself, of the sport and everything it was capable of conveying -- that pushed you beyond your limits, and the fearlessness it gave you.

Because with that love as your guide, everything suddenly became easy.

Even walking away.

Every fibre of his being screamed at Victor to go out there. To skate for Yuuri. To answer him in their best shared language.

Ice. Skating.

I don’t want it to end here, Victor. I want to be in figure skating with you forever.

The plea was written in every line of Yuuri’s body.

It won’t end here, Yuuri. A silent promise back. Yuuri couldn’t see him, couldn’t see the way he twitched, the way he would have skated if it were his blades on the ice. I will be in figure skating with you forever. I will never leave your side.

A long, slow grief unfolded from Yuuri’s arms. But your staying on as my coach means slowly killing you as a competitive skater.

Victor wanted to deny it, wanted to shout a “no” into the air, so the entire arena knew just how vehemently he opposed that idea. But he couldn’t. His clenched jaw wouldn’t open, and he knew, deep down, that Yuuri was right.

Look at the Victor who lives on inside me. Your becoming my coach wasn’t a waste of time. I’m the only one in the whole world who can prove that.

It hurt to watch this. Hurt, in the best way, to see Yuuri finally come into his own. Become the skater--the person --Victor had always known was inside him. The one Victor had always wanted the rest of the world to see.

It hurt, because he knew that this was Yuuri saying goodbye.

And the thought of never again seeing that body sway, gliding across the ice as though pulling music from the depths of his soul…

Victor couldn’t fathom it, even as he watched a performance more beautiful than he could have ever imagined. Breathtaking in its technical precision, but also in it’s grace, it’s effortless beauty.

A beauty that had already inspired dozens of routines inside Victor’s head. A beauty that had him yearning to skate out to Yuuri, take him in his arms, and dance across the ice with him -- even though neither of them had ever pair skated before.

A beauty born of love.

Chapter Text

 His score was surreal: 221.58.

He’d just skated what was in his heart. Not trying to be proud or good or better than anyone else--just honest.

And he, Yuuri Katsuki, had broken Victor Nikiforov’s (his soulmate’s ) world record.

The announcers were lost over the roar of the crowd. He could barely believe his eyes.

He couldn’t--he hadn’t…

He’d never even dreamed of this.

He had actually surpassed Victor. The out-of-reach dream since he was a child had finally come to fruition.

Victor’s hand slid off his shoulder, a warm weight Yuuri noticed only in its absence, and he turned. Victor held out his hand, a small smile on his face.

Not quite sure what he should do, or even what Victor was feeling, Yuuri reached up and clasped it. The grip awkward in the small space between their bodies.

Victor pulled him forward, wrapping his other arm around Yuuri’s neck and whispering into his ear.

“Congratulations, Yuuri.” A blush rose to Yuuri’s face, unbidden, as Victor’s words crawled inside of him, as precious as the soulmate bond they shared.

“Having both Yuris beat my records is the ultimate bliss as your choreographer and coach, but it’s the ultimate diss as a competitor.”

It took Yuuri a moment to process what Victor was saying. The bright lights and screaming cheers slowing Yuuri’s reaction as he filtered everything through them.

“Huh?” A small noise slipped out of his mouth, incredulous. Happy.

pulled away, just far enough so he could see Victor’s eyes, the unabashed joy and utter love shining in them.  

“Does that mean you’ll come back?”

Victor made a small sound of assent and Yuuri...Yuuri’s entire world felt right again.

---

The feeling of the silver medal sliding around his neck was something he would never forget. Bittersweet. A personal best, a world record -- and still silver. Fractions of a point behind Yurio, the new, rising figure skating legend.

Yuuri was happy for his friend. And the solid, carved weight of his silver medal on his shoulders grounded him.

But it still wasn’t quite enough.

The highlight of his career was this single moment--standing on the podium at the Grand Prix Final, a bouquet of purple flowers tucked under one warm. Yurio sneered beside him, a haughty, regal beauty. JJ waved to the crowd, having bounced back in a way that Yuuri hadn’t been able to manage last year.

He drank it in. All of it. The chill of the ice, the sweet smell of the flowers. The crease of his jacket, chafing his shoulder slightly. The lights and the cheers and the sheer joy and he snuck a glance down at the silver disk, gleaming against his dark jacket.

This moment…

It was beautiful. But also, somehow, incomplete.

Part of Yuuri was still missing.

Maybe it was the gold medal hanging around Yurio’s neck (and frankly, completely deserved after that performance). Maybe it was the look he imagined he’d see on Victor’s face.

Maybe it was the small kernel of doubt growing in the pit of Yuuri’s stomach as the ceremony carried on.

He didn’t want this to be his last skate.

He didn’t want this to be his last moment.

He wanted more.

He wasn’t done yet, he realized, as the ceremony ended and he headed off the rink.

Victor was waiting for him at the boards, like always. That happy smile on his face, but Yuuri thought he could see a tinge of sadness underneath.

Slipping the medal off, he held it out to Victor with both hands

“It’s not a gold medal, but…”

Victor smiled, laughing a little as he tilted his head to the side. Fondness quickly overcoming surprise.

Please don’t take it . Something inside of him whispered. Please don’t say yes. Don’t let this be the end.

“I don’t feel like kissing it unless it’s gold.”

What? Yuuri pulled back, startled, clutching his medal closer on reflex.

Victor was smiling the jovial smile that covered up his darkest urges. The one he used to make his cruelty sound sweet and joking. He meant the light tone, or he wanted to, Yuuri knew that. But the underlying darkness seeped out along the edge of his eyelids and the crease of his lips.

“Man, I really wanted to kiss Yuuri’s gold medal. I’m just a failure as a coach.” Victor’s words were completely at odds with his tone. He was almost--happy? That edge of frustration was still there, but the play-acting sad...what was Victor up to? Yuuri wondered as his coach walked forward.

Victor clearly wasn’t going to stop, Yuuri realized as he backed up. Victor just kept coming, until Yuuri was leaning backwards over the boards with Victor looming above him.

“Yuuri, do you have any ideas?” Victor held his chin, the way he always did when he was thinking. “Something that would excite me?”

A thought popped into Yuuri’s head and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block it out.

“What did you think just now?”

“Oh, um...Well…”

He really shouldn't even think this. It probably wasn’t even possible but...

Yuuri pushed forward, catching Victor off guard as he wrapped his arms around him. They landed on the floor in a heap, Yuuri’s silver medal landing on the mats with a soft thump.

“Please stay with me in competitive figure skating for one more year!” The words spill out, filled with a determination Yuuri -- finally -- felt.

“This time, I’ll win gold for sure!” He pushed back, needing to see Victor. To meet those ocean-blue eyes and know, without a doubt, that Victor could feel the fire burning in Yuuri’s heart, searing along their soulbond.

Victor gasped, eyes going wide for a moment, before he was overcome with joy.

That was...unexpected. And a little unnerving how big Victor’s eyes could go.

“Great! But keep going!”

“What?”

Victor was...happy about this? Happy that Yuuri couldn’t retire and was selfishly asking Victor to stay with him?

Victor reached over to the medal lying beside them on the mats. Fingers caressing it as he picked it up and placed it over ’s head.

“Even I’m worried about making a full comeback if I’m also staying on as your coach. In exchange, I’ll need you to become a five-time world champion, at least.”

This wasn’t a demand or a request -- it wasn’t even a declaration of love. Victor’s smile was soft, smitten, and so full of love. It was a look he had only ever given to Yuuri. Would only ever give to Yuuri.

That smile wasn’t about love -- it was the absolute faith Yuuri asked him for back at the Cup of China. It shone from Victor’s eyes, highlighting the curve of his lips, and hummed along their soulmate bond, the faintest hint of challenge.

Of course Yuuri could do that.

He was crying, the smooth edges of his silver medal -- not an ending, but their beginning -- digging into his palm.

“Okay.”

Chapter Text

 The arena was dark, held in a breathless silence as the crowd waited for the exhibition skates to begin.

Blue lights lit the rink, illuminating a solitary figure at the center of the ice. The military-styled blue jacket echoed not just the lights, but another performance from a year ago.

Anticipatory tension filled the air, as though every spectator watching had decided to hold their breath at the exact same time.

“The men’s singles silver medalist, Japan’s Katsuki Yuuri.”  Even the announcer, though cool and collected, had an undercurrent of that same excitement in his voice.

“His exhibition is the free program of his coach, Victor Nikiforov, who’s just announced his comeback, last year’s ‘Stay Close to Me.’”

A deep, sonorous voice began to sing as Yuuri skated like he had in an almost-forgotten viral video. Except this time, something was different.

The longing was there, that same unfulfilled ache of the first time he’d skated this routine. The bone-deep absence of someone you loved that the world saw every time Victor Nikiforov had skated this routine.

It did tug at the heartstrings more, coming from a younger man like Katsuki. Especially given his history--rising and falling and then rising again through the sport.

It wasn’t that his jumps were different now, smoother and more consistent. It wasn’t even the innocence of the longing that Yuuri skated.

Something about that longing had changed.

You couldn’t skate this routine and not think of your soulmate

Victor Nikiforov had choreographed the routine that way.

And the crowd knew that.

So who was Katsuki thinking of?

Gasps from the crowd murmured underneath the music as the lights changed, adding red to blue to shift into a glowing purple as Victor skated out to Yuuri.

One hand caressed Victor’s cheek, fingers twining together as they skated around the rink. Spinning, lifting, dipping together, as a pair. Movements matched and perfectly in sync.

Love shone between them in a way even the audience could see.

And they understood, how the routine had changed.

It was no longer the cold and broken mourning Victor had once skated.

Or the deep-seated empty ache of longing Yuuri had uploaded to the internet.

It was a clear and overwhelming joy.

A triumphant and resounding Yes.