Chapter Text
Katsuki Yuri sighed deeply as he turned his key in the lock of Hasetsu Ice Castle, locking the ice rink up for the night. Every day, every week, every month was the same. He’d wake up late, shuffle down to the kitchen at his parents ryokan for natto and matcha, then clean up after the breakfast patrons. A quick run through of all the grunt work that needed doing at the onsen (ridiculously named “Yu-topia!!!” after their only son, and the bliss one was supposed to feel after a soak in the onsen). Amazing how many hours could be killed by that alone. Eventually, some time in the late afternoon, Yuri would work his way over to Hasetsu Ice Castle to run surly tweens through beginner and intermediate skating lessons. Once things were locked down for the night, Yuuri would eventually make his way back to the ryokan, where he would surf the internet until the wee hours, looking at pictures of hot guys and wondering where and how his life had gone so horribly, horribly wrong.
Had it been before he was born? That one was too difficult to figure out. Yuuri figured it happened somewhere about the time he was learning to skate himself. He’d followed his sister Mari to ballet lessons (and why did he do that would be the question he’d ask himself forever, other than he was young and bored and lonely and to be honest he liked the leotards and dance shoes that Mari had for class), only to have the instructor, Minako-sensei, sideline him into skating. What could he do? He was a kid, Minako-sensei was a friend of his parents from their school days, he went to the rink.
At the rink, he almost came alive, almost felt human. Almost. Flying around in the cold, wide-open rink, yeah sure it was an enclosed space, but once Yuuri took off his glasses, it was like the rest of the world didn’t exist. Minako-sensei introduced Yuuri to Yuu-chan, and for a while Yuuri thought that maybe he liked Yuu-chan enough beyond the rink, saw her as more than a sister, until the day that jerk Nishigori sideswiped Yuuri in front of Yuu-chan. How embarrassing! And...Yuuri realized, he kind of liked it. Liked what Nishigori did to him more than Yuu-chan’s fussing over Yuri’s bruises and Nishigori being an asswipe. So when the tiny tv at the rink with the coat hanger and aluminum foil working in service as an antenna pulled in some ice skating competition, Yuuri found himself more and more making pretend gagging faces along with Nishigori at the sparkly outfits and slender skaters, who would have Yuu-chan leaping from their mutual viewing bench exclaiming “Someday I will be there, too!” Still, Yuuri found the outfits the skaters wore, well, for lack of a better descriptor, interesting. He could like the way everyone looked in their flashy outfits, even if he realized more and more that it was the young men in their tight, severe and understated outfits who caught his interest, instead of the budding young women in their pastel chiffon and sequins.
So Yuuri rolled his eyes at the fruityness of ice skating, ice dancing, pairs, you-name-it, while he endured and pretended to enjoy the roughness of hockey. Yuuri would endure just about anything (and hadn’t life growing up with Mari-neechan as an older sister proved that?) to get what he wanted, and in this case it would be in a locker room with a bunch of other guys in various stages of undress. Oh, the glory of Yuuri’s teenage years! The casual nudity, the team members with just a small tiny towel draped around their waists! Yuuri blew out another breath, remembering how nearly impossible it was for him to keep himself from getting overly *ahem* excited by it all. How he’d run home after practice, any practice, whether it was hockey or ice dancing (because by now Yuu-chan had roped Yuuri into that, not like she had to pull hard) and rub a quick one out in the private showers of the onsen before going for a soak and a mental replay of the day’s events.
Yuuri felt entirely too old to be having such thoughts. Youth is wasted on the young, Yuuri thought. Not like Yuuri was ancient: He was only 23, but it felt more like 123, so entrenched Yuuri was in what he could see was the rest of his life until the day he died. Slowly, he and Mari would take over operations of Yu-topia as their parents aged out of the various jobs that entailed running one of the last ryokan/onsens in Hasetsu. Thank god Yuuri was only 23--he still had at least seven more years before everyone started shaming him about getting married and having a family. Poor Mari was already stale Christmas cake, not that things like that ever bothered her. Mari could give two fucks about what ANYBODY thought about her and what she did, and Yuuri found himself frequently wishing he could be both exactly like Mari in her bad-assery and more than a little frightened by it.
But before Yuuri could fully turn and head out, as completely lost in his thoughts as he was, he realized he heard the sound of someone rushing up the steps to Ice Castle Hasetsu. Someone in a huge hurry, someone panting and gasping with what sounded like their last breaths. Yuuri steeled himself, trying to fish his keyring into some kind of weapon. This wouldn’t be the first time some idiot thought that the person closing the rink had money. Money, HA! One look at how down at the heels Hasetsu had become in just Yuuri’s lifetime should work as some kind of warning to any idiot thinking that knocking over the weak-looking dude closing out the ice rink might have some cash on him--Yuu-chan had quit having Yuuri take the night deposit to the bank, simply because it cost more in Band-aids to cover Yuuri’s scapes and cuts than what was in the deposit bag. After the second mugging, it seemed easier to let Nishigori take the bag during the day.
Nishigori, sigh. Not that Nishigori was anything near Yuuri’s ‘ideal’, other than the fact that Nishigori was a dude. Nishigori’s attitude left a LOT to be desired, in Yuuri’s book. Yuu-chan didn’t seem to find that a problem, as evidenced by the triplets, whose appearance before Yuu-chan was technically finished with high school caused quite the scandal for about a week in Hasetsu.
So Yuuri heard the breathing, heard the footsteps racing up the stairs, and turned and braced himself for the inevitable smash and grab. He was already in a semi-crouch with his hands up in a defensive posture, when in a heavily accented voice he heard his name: “Yuuuuuri!”
Yuuri looked up through his crossed arms. This can’t be happening to him…
In front of Yuuri was the most beautiful creature Yuuri had ever seen, man or woman or beast. Tall, silver-haired, eyes that danced between blue and turquoise and green, with a mouth shaped like a heart and a body shaped for either skating or sin or both. A little taller than Yuuri, but that was ok, Yuuri always liked a bit of a stretch.
Yuuri, thank god I found you!”
Well, that was a new one. Not like he had time to review, but Yuuri couldn’t honestly remember if anyone, anywhere, had ever greeted him with such a statement. Not like Yuuri’s brain was giving him time to process it all.
Yuuri!
This time, the good-looking stranger was a little more intense. The stranger stopped, tried to grab Yuuri’s arms. Yuuri was having none of that. A brief remembrance of that time in Tokyo, how Yuuri had to wear long sleeves and had difficulty moving for months afterwards...Yuuri swung his arms up and around, breaking the hold and making off down the street. Good-looking stranger seemed flummoxed for a moment, then quickly picked up and trailed behind Yuuri.
Oh shit, oh shit, ohshitohshitohshit… Yuuri began to think. What is this guy up to? What does he want? What do I have to do to get away with the least amount of pain here? Yuuri was panicking, looking around as he both headed back to the onsen and deliberately tried to not head in that direction, not wanting to lead whoever-the-fuck this was to where Yuuri lived. Big mistake, letting them know where you lived. Like that time in Tokyo…
Yuuri, darling, moye malen'koye solnyshko, I’ve missed you so much!
The beautiful stranger shouted, tugging at Yuuri’s sleeve.
Yuuri! Something is wrong with the world, something horrible has happened!
Well, ok, Yuuri thought. Something indeed horrible has happened, because I don’t know who the fuck you are, even if you are easy on the eyes and quite probably the one true embodiment of everything that I could ever ask for in a love interest. Yuuri picked up his speed, trying to look at his surroundings without being too obvious. Can’t let good-looking weirdo realize what Yuuri had in mind…
The good-looking stranger kept pace with Yuuri. How was that even possible? Nishigori couldn’t keep up with Yuuri these days, whether on the ice or out for a jog. Triplets would do that to a guy, but Yuuri never had to worry about that, even if he wasn’t as skinny as his high school days. Suddenly, it dawned on Yuuri: Head to Minako’s. She’s most likely be behind the bar at this point in the evening, but even if she was in the dance studio for some unguessable reason, there would still be a crowd of people. Yuuri crossed his fingers that the crowd would be at the bar instead of the studio: drunks were always easier to rally than dance parents. Dance parents were always so judgy; they just KNEW you’d done something to deserve whatever you dragged into the studio. Which said a LOT about them bringing their children to learn ballet in the first place, if Yuuri thought about it.
Minutes...seconds...Yuuri could see the door to Minako’s bar up ahead. Almost...almost...Yuuri found himself breathless, remembering all the mistakes of his past, the furtive gropings in love hotels, the gimlet eyes of proprietors as they handed over keycards, the grim darkness of a standup in what was hopefully a secluded enough alley...was this what they meant by one’s life flashing before their eyes at the final moment? Yuuri thought to himself that if he survived whatever was next, he would earnestly, truly, try to be better, to live a better life. Be himself. Be honest. Fuck everyone else. Because…
Yuuri!!! Don’t you know me? It’s me, Viktor! Yuuri, I’M YOUR HUSBAND!
It seemed like hours but was just minutes that it took for Yuuri to open the bar door, the patrons to see that Yuuri was in serious distress and rise to his rescue, to hear the good looking stranger’s shout, for Minako to come out swinging from behind the bar with a baseball bat, for the good-looking stranger, those eyes so blue-green-turquoise-whateverthefuck beautiful overload to give Yuuri a look that conveyed more love and loss and pain and hope than Yuuri ever thought possible to convey with just a look….
With a shriek, Yuuri short-circuited, and everything went black.