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Yuuri shouldn’t have been so stupid, he knew that. Celestino and Phichit had said it so much that he’d never forget it. No matter what, Katsuki Yuuri would always remember that on January 4th, he was a big, stupid idiot. It would be the end of the world, there would be lakes of lava, clouds of ash and the sky would be falling down, but Yuuri would always remember that he was a huge, stinking idiot.
So, here he was, sitting in a hospital, listening to the doctor tell him about the way his ankle had broken, and he was thinking about how stupid he was. It was just a quad, a quad toe loop at that. Yuuri knew he should have warmed up before attempting any kind of jump, no less a quad. He was stupid to think he could go out on the ice for the first time in two days, do no kind of stretching or warm up, and just go for a quad. It was stupid. And here he was with a possibly career-ending injury, listening to a doctor tell him that he’d have to go through three months of rehab, and even then he might be forbidden from skating for god knows how long. Even if he was able to skate again, he would only know if he could compete at the end of his three month rehab course. Three months. It was march now, and in three months it would be June. Even if Yuuri was cleared for competing, god knows he’d never be able to get back to his standard and create programs in time for the grand prix series.
He’d broken his ankle two months ago– clean snap to the fibula, and a fracture on the tibia. Five months recovery time. God, it had been painful, but this was much worse. The saw they were currently using to take off Yuuri’s cast was scary, too, but not as scary as being in rehab– a skaters worst nightmare.
Phichit was in the room with him, loosely holding his hand and looking away from the cast, just in case something slipped and Yuuri foot came off. Yuuri couldn’t blame him. The process was quick, only taking ten minutes, was before long, Yuuri’s gross, pale and itchy foot was exposed. He tried moving it as soon as he could, but he was met with a sharp pain.
“Easy there, we don’t want you to overdo it. We know that the cast is off, but we still want you using crutches, at least until you get to the physiotherapy place. It’s on 32nd street, number 12. Your therapist is Dr Nikiforov– he’s very good, very experienced, especially with athletes. You have nothing to worry about, Mr Katsuki. You’re in good hands,” Yuuri’s doctor, Dr. Giacometti, informed him as he helped Yuuri off the bench. Phichit quickly came to aid Yuuri as he hopped off and grabbed his ugly, grey crutches. Yuuri hobbled back to his and Phichit’s shared car.
“Dr Nikiforov, eh? Sounds Russian,” Phichit commented, getting into the drivers seat and starting the car. “I hope he’s sexy.”
“I don’t think any physiotherapist can be sexy, Phichit,” Yuuri scolded, getting settled into his seat with his crutches thrown into the backseat. Yuuri grumpily reached for his runners that he’d bought to the appointment so he could put on a pair of shoes as soon as possible. Yuuri sank back against his chair, bending his spine in an awful way, reaching his feet towards the ceiling so he could put his shoes on without untying the laces first. God, he hated this. He wanted to go skate, right now. He wished he was putting on skates, right now, instead of these boring, ugly trainers.
“What are you talking about? A physiotherapist’s job is to be sexy– I mean, would you really want an ugly, stinky man bending your feet and touching you and generally being in your personal space bubble?” Phichit explained, but Yuuri just shrugged. He didn’t feel like talking that much, and he really didn’t feel like talking about the guy who he was doing rehabilitation with for the next three months. Yuuri then started to actually think about the next three months, and he realised how boring they would be. What the hell was he going to do now? He’d finished his studies last year and he wasn’t skating. Phichit wouldn’t be around to often– what the fuck was he going to do during the day? Was going to see his physiotherapist all he was to do? Would he go see the guy for an hour, go to the gym for an hour, come home and do his stretches and exercises for another two hours, and then nothing else? God, that was mundane. Maybe he’d take up cooking. Phichit would love that… yeah, cooking sounded good. And then once he was a bit rather in the rehabilitation journey, he could do ballet regularly. Yes, ballet wasn’t to hard on the joints, right? Well, actually, it probably was. He’d just stick with cooking then. Cooking was fine. It wasn’t skating, but it was fine.
“Okay, Yuuri, we’re here,” Phichit said, startling him out of his daze. They’d pulled up near a shop front with blue glass, and the words ‘First Care Physical Therapy’ printed in big, green letters. Yuuri had been to this place before, with an old rank mate who’d sprained their ankle. It hadn’t seemed so bad, but Yuuri was stubborn and the pit of dread that settled in his stomach made him want to grab hold of the wheel and drive he and Phichit back home. But, he knew he couldn’t do that. Instead, he frowned and closed his eyes, praying that when he eventually opened them again he’d see that he was on the couch in their apartment. “Come on, Yuuri. You’re appointment was two minutes ago, we need to go and meet your hot, Russian doctor.”
“Why?” Yuuri groaned, dragging out the ‘y’ sound, and slumping against his seat further.
“Because if you don’t do this, then you’ll really never be able to skate again,” Phichit argued, unclipping his seatbelt, then doing the same for Yuuri. “I know you hate this, but we have to do it. The sooner you do, the sooner you’ll recover.” Yuuri kicked his legs like a two year old did, then opened the car do and hobbled, ignoring the shooting pains running up from his ankle. “Yuuri! You need your crutches.” Phichit sped out of the car, grabbing Yuuri’s crutches and handing them to him. Yuuri sighed and made his way the door, letting Phichit open it for him.
Yuuri wanted to vomit at the sight inside– grey carpet, cream coloured walls, neon green reception desk and blue, plastic waiting room chairs. Yuuri expected a little bit more class from a place like this. Yuuri didn’t bother speaking to the redhead at the reception desk, just plopping down in a chair next to a stack full of sports magazines. The top one referenced Yuuri’s injury, and he turned it over as quickly as he could, not wanting the reminder. It was only his third international season, why did everyone care about whether he was there or not? He’d come third in last years GPF, why didn’t they leave him alone?
“Hello, I have an appointment under Katsuki for two pm?” Yuuri heard Phichit say to the young, redhead. (It was very red, like not ginger at all. Full on redhead.)
“With Dr. Nikiforov, right?” Phichit nodded. “Wonderful! He’s waiting for you now, just through that door there,” the girl said, pointing to one of the plain white doors.
“Great. Lets go, Yuuri,” Phichit said, trying to sound his cheeriest in hopes of it rubbing off on Yuuri. Yuuri stood up with a grump and followed Phichit through the door. He was met with a nice looking, open gym area, with a guy in a white polo and well fitting black shorts. He had a set of keys around his neck, and the ends of his sleeves and collar had a blue stripe on them. He wore almost new-looking black trainers, and his hair was silver. His name tag read ‘Victor Nikiforov.’
“Good afternoon, Yuuri! Welcome to the gym here at First Care, I’m Dr. Nikiforov but you can call me Victor,” Victor told Yuuri like he’d said it a million times, all while wearing a commercially good smile that he’d also probably put on a million times.
“I’m Yuuri’s friend Phichit, and I’ll be going now, so hello and goodbye,” Phichit said with a cocky grin, leaning in to whisper, “I told you so,” as he left. Now, it was just Yuuri and his very sexy physiotherapist. Yuuri stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, awaiting instructions. Victor was still smiling, his hands on his hips.
“I’m glad you’re using your crutches, walking on a freshly healed fibula can be very painful,” Victor said, sitting down on a bench next to the door. “So, today I’m just going to walk you through some easy exercises you can do at home, and then I’ll tell you about our three month, rehabilitation plan, okay?” Yuuri nodded meekly and sat next to Victor. “Lets get this jacket off of you, okay?” Yuuri nodded, still not saying anything as Victor leaned in and helped Yuuri take his boring, brown jacket off. It was very awkward, but it didn’t bother Yuuri too much because his hot physiotherapist was leaning very close and smelled very good.
Once that had finished, Victor took Yuuri’s jacket and hung it up on a hook above them. “Sorry if I’m acting a little awkward, I just love your skating so much,” Victor confessed, scratching the back of his neck.
“No, it’s okay. I’m flattered, actually,” Yuuri replied, his stomach curling in at the thought of a hot doctor admiring his skating. The dread that had made a home in Yuuri’s belly for the past two months started to ease up.
“I imagine this must me scary for you, da?” Victor asked, walking away to fetch a little wad of paper held together by a staple. “I had a look at your x-rays and spoke to your doctor, and it seems pretty bad. Nothing we can’t help, though.”
Yuuri nodded, finally letting go of his crutches and resting them next to the door.
“So, this is a plan for you. For the first few weeks I want you to see me twice a week, and practice the exercises I give you religiously every single day, okay?” Victor flipped open the book and shuffled closer to Yuuri to show him, which made Yuuri’s heartbeat go crazy. This man was very nice looking. Now Yuuri was wondering how he’d survive the next three months for a whole different reason. “For this week, I’m giving you three exercises. If you just come with me over here, I’ll take a look at your foot and mobility and then I’ll show you them, okay?” Yuuri swallowed and stood, following Victor to a part of the room where two green yoga mats were laid out.
The 90 minute session passed a blur. A slow, awkward blur, but still a blur. Yuuri hadn’t talked much at all, and was only listening to Victor half of the time. The other half was spent staring at Victor gorgeous hair, and picturing Victor watching him skate. It wasn’t a perfect afternoon, but it was alright. A lot better than Yuuri had thought it would be. They scheduled in an appointment for Thursday, and every Thursday and Monday for the rest of the month, for ten thirty to twelve. Yuuri paid in bulk for the rest of the month and then was on his way.
Phichit was waiting for him in the car outside with Starbucks– green tea for Yuuri because Yuuri was crazy about watching his weight since he’d stopped skating– and a million different questions. Yuuri answered them vaguely and with a dazed smile that told Phichit everything he needed to know.
Yuuri was happy to get back home when they did, and collapsed on the couch as soon as he could. He flung his shoes across the room, vowing to get newer, prettier ones for when he saw Victor and then placed a few pages of his printed exercises from Victor on the coffee table. Maybe this whole thing wouldn’t be as bad as Yuuri thought it would be.
–
Yuuri returned the following Thursday in a nicer, cleaner pair of shorts and a dark blue shirt, and his new, Nike trainers. Even though for some reason he expected things to be a lot different when he came back, things were mostly the same, save for a middle aged woman in the corner using one of the exercise machines. Victor wore the same uniform, and they practiced the same exercises. Yuuri hoped Victor would notice his new shoes, but he said nothing. Yuuri also said nothing, for most of the session, but at least things weren’t as awkward as they had been on Monday. Yuuri wished he could have talked to Victor a little more, but it was probably his own fault that he hadn’t. Yuuri had liked Victor giving his foot a little massage as they wrapped things up anyway. As he was leaving though, Victor asked him something that caught him a little off guard.
“So, what have you been up to? Have things been boring for you now that you’re not skating?” Victor asked while Yuuri was tying up his shoes again and Victor was putting away the elastic Yuuri had used in a little bonus exercise they’d done to kill some time.
“Uh, yeah it has been boring. I’ve not been doing much… I like to cook though, so my days have just been filled with baking and mixing and boiling,” Yuuri replied, laughing awkwardly. (Why had he said cooking? That was such a weird thing to say! Victor probably thought he was being really weird.)
“Cooking, huh? That sounds interesting, I would have never guessed that one of the best skaters in the world cooked as a hobby! What do you make?” Victor replied, shutting a supply cupboard. Yuuri almost choked. The most beautiful man he’d ever seen had just said he was one of the worlds best figure skaters and had actually sounded interested in Yuuri’s weird conversation topic.
“Uh, not anything interesting. I usually cook a lot of Japanese food, but I’m been venturing into some western baking, so my apartment is currently filled with brownies that neither me or my roommate can eat because of their nutritional value,” Yuuri said, giggling.
“Your roommate– Phichit Chulanont, right?” Victor asked, holding a hand out for Yuuri so he could get up properly. Yuuri was shocked, but then remembered that Victor had followed his career. Had he seen interviews as well? Yuuri wondered how much Victor actually knew about Yuuri.
“Uh, yeah,” Yuuri replied, reaching for his crutches.
“Wait! I actually want to keep these hostage– I don’t think you need them anymore. I know walking gets painful without them, but now that you’re doing the exercises regularly it would probably be good to actually start using your ankle,” Victor said, grabbing said crutches before Yuuri could. Yuuri nodded and started for the door. “Um, I’ll see you Monday?”
Yuuri turned and met Victor’s gaze. “See you Monday.” Yuuri smiled and left, finding that he actually couldn’t wait til Monday came around. He still held back from telling Phichit any details who he hopped into the car crutch free. He didn’t want to give Phichit the indulgence of him admitting that having a hot Russian as his physiotherapist was kind of amazing. (So amazing that Yuuri may have gotten off to thoughts of Victor as he fell asleep that night.)
–
“Yuuri, you need to stop baking. We have so many cookies and brownies and cake pops and cupcakes and cinnamon rolls. We have too many baked treats– we will never eat them. The staff at the rink are probably starting to think I’m trying to make them fat,” Phichit said, looking into the fridge at all the containers of baked goods. Yuuri had to actually buy more containers yesterday. “I love coming home to an amazing cooked dinner every night, but I think you need to take this in a different direction.”
“What else am I supposed to do? All I do is cook, see Victor, go grocery shopping and watch tv. There is nothing else for me to do,” Yuuri said from the couch, watching a Netflix documentary and eating a bowl of last nights gyudon.
“Maybe you should see Victor more, you seem to like him enough,” Phichit said, grabbing a container of homemade hummus and croutons, laying them out to eat at the kitchen island.
“I do not,” Yuuri groaned, shooting a glare at Phichit.
“Well, Victor definitely likes you. You stayed for twenty minutes after your session had finished last week, who does that?” Phichit said. “Nobody keeps Yuuri from seeing their best friend for twenty whole minutes without having a good reason.”
“We just lost track of time, Phichit,” Yuuri argued, getting up from the couch to put away his empty bowl and grab the elastic that Victor had leant to him in his last session.
“But, you’ve seen that man six times now, and you haven’t told me anything about him, that means you’ve got something to hide,” Phichit reasoned, siting down with Yuuri who had his foot outstretched and in his elastic, practicing a special exercise that Victor had given him.
“I don’t have anything to hide,” Yuuri replied innocently, trying to divert his attention to his ankle, not to the conversation. If he started to actually pay attention to what Phichit was saying, he’d start blushing, and then Phichit would really know about Yuuri’s fondness for his physiotherapist.
“Yes, you do! I can see you blushing.” Shit. “Now you’re blushing even more– c’mon Yuuri, tell me about Victor Nikiforov, your physiotherapist. Do you really like him so much that you won’t gossip about him to me? You can tell me what he smells like and how soft his hands are and how his hair is always perfect,” Phichit said, clasping his hands together against his chest and looking at the ceiling, pretending to be in a daze of love. He kind of looking how Yuuri imagined he looked when he left his sessions, but he wouldn’t mention that. “Is his hair always perfect?”
Yuuri looked down, away from Phichit. “Yes,” he mumbled under his breath.
“Oh! I knew it. What about his cologne? He wears cologne, right? It must be good,” Phichit mused, trying to get a good look at Yuuri’s face.
“It is good. He does smell nice,” Yuuri replied quietly, trying to again focus his attention on his ankle, and not on how Victor Nikiforov, the physiotherapist, smelled. “His hands are soft, too.”
“So you do like him!”
“Fine. Yes, I like him, but it’s more than just his soft hands and perfect hair it’s– he’s– more than that,” Yuuri told Phichit, trying to save himself from being the kind of person who hangs out with an attractive person for more than two seconds and instantly falls in love with them.
“Well, tell me more,” Phichit urged, grabbing another crouton and dipping it in the hummus he had brought to the floor so he could talk to Yuuri.
“He’s… well, he followed my career,” Yuuri admitted. “Victor told me he loves my skating, and he talks to me about how he can’t wait to see me back on the ice again.” Okay, now Yuuri was really, completely blushing. From scalp to mid chest and shoulders, blushing. He felt very hot, all of a sudden.
“Aw, Yuuri! That is so adorable.” Yuuri rolled his eyes. “He’s so hot, too. I can’t believe my little Yuuri has a chance with his hot physiotherapist.”
“I do not have a chance with Victor,” Yuuri argued, raising his voice a little more than necessary. “He’s my physiotherapist. I can’t actually date him.”
“Sure you can! I’m sure he likes you,” Phichit said, way to cheerily for Yuuri’s liking. That was the danger of admitting that Yuuri actually may have a little crush on Victor– that Victor would like him back. Or wouldn’t. They both sounded bad. On one hand, Victor and Yuuri couldn’t date, and even if they did Yuuri would most definitely mess it up, and on the other, having to see Victor at least once a week knowing that Victor didn’t like him like that would be hard, and very awkward. Yuuri was not dating Victor. He’d only known him for a few weeks anyway.
“No way, that is not happening. I think I prefer just admiring how soft his hands are and how gentle he is in my head anyway. I’m fine with how things are going. I thought physiotherapy was going to be awful, but it’s actually okay and I don’t want to change that. Can we drop this now?”
“Fine, okay. But it’s still cool that Dr Nikiforov follows your career and talks to you and likes you enough to lose track of time,” Phichit commented, reminding Yuuri of how well things were going so he wasn’t in a bad mood for the rest of the day. Phichit knew Yuuri was already walking on thin ice with how much weight he’d gained recently. (Not a lot, nothing that was noticeable, but Yuuri knew it and he hated it.)
“Why do you either call him my physiotherapist or Dr Nikiforov?”
“I think it makes him more attractive.”
–
Yuuri had been told to go for a thirty minute walk each day. He’d been told to exercise his ankle for at least an hour a day, and he’d been told he was doing very well. He’d been told that Victor loves poodles and ice skating and that his favourite jump is the quad flip, (Yuuri had just landed that one before he broke his ankle.) Yuuri was learning quite a lot about Victor, and he loved it. He loved how even though Yuuri didn’t need to be seeing Victor twice a week anymore, he did anyway. He loved how sometimes Victor would ring him on days where he didn’t see him to make sure he was doing his exercises and wasn’t in too much pain. He loved how hopeful Victor sounded about Yuuri getting back on the ice in a few months, and how hopeful he was that Yuuri would be able to skate competitively. Yuuri knew he wasn’t doing perfect, and he wasn’t healing perfectly. He knew that it wasn’t bad enough that he’d know for sure he was out of skating, but he knew he could be better, and he knew that Victor was deliberately not telling Yuuri this to make him feel better. Yuuri had asked Victor if anything was going wrong, and nothing ever was. It seemed so good, but as time progressed, he realised that he did want to date Victor.
Sometimes, when Victor was particularly close to Yuuri, Yuuri wanted to kiss him. Sometimes, when Victor held his wrist, Yuuri wished he was holding his hand. Sometimes, when Victor would talk a colleague with flirtatious ease, Yuuri wished that he and Victor would speak in the same way. And sometimes they did, when they were wrapping up. They would talk about skating news, but it was April now and there wasn’t very much going on. Worlds had just passed a couple weeks ago, and everything in the skating world had quieted down. Sometimes they’d talk about dogs, though, or Yuuri’s favourite beverage, or where he or Victor studied. It would always only be for a few minutes, but those few minutes were always what got Yuuri through to the next appointment.
This appointment though, this appointment was special. It was a Thursday afternoon and Yuuri was getting ready to actually use the special exercise machines they had in the gym. Yuuri had wanted to for ages, but Victor had always forbade him. If this session went well, then Yuuri would be able to go to a normal gym and do what he used to do there, which mean he could work off all fat he’d gained in the past six weeks. Yuuri was sad that because Yuuri was using the machines more, Victor would be touching him less, but still.
“So, on this machine, you lie back and hook your feet under this tab here, kind of like on one of those slanted sit up boards, but instead of doing sit ups, you’re going to slide your body up, and then lower yourself, okay?” Victor instructed, holding Yuuri’s arm as he got into position.
Yuuri smiled up at Victor. “Okay.” Yuuri found it very easy, and it barely hurt at all. Most of the time, he experienced no pain on his ankle at all. Yuuri thought he was doing pretty good, and was impressed with himself when he used all of the machines with ease. Victor had immediately cleared him to go the gym whenever he liked, as long as he promised not to overdo it.
He would say “Promise?” In a stern voice, with his eyebrows raised, and Yuuri would nod and say “I promise,” back. It was very cute, when Victor made him promise things, like they were both seven years old or something.
“Alright, you’re doing very well. Which it going to make your x-ray appointment tomorrow even better,” Victor said as they finished up. “Um, would you mind if I came with you to that? Just so I can look things over with your doctor.”
“Yeah, sure, that’ll be fine,” Yuuri said as he dabbed the damp towel Victor had given him on his sweaty forehead.
“Well, wonderful. And as for next session, I think we should do some hydrotherapy stuff,” Victor suggested, taking Yuuri’s towel, setting it aside and helping him and over to the bench they usually sat at when they were finishing for the day.
“Like, in the pool?”
“Mm, yes! The water reduces the stress of gravity on your joints but provides resistance on your healing ankle that you need to make it stronger,” Victor informed Yuuri. “I think it would actually be good to trade our Monday sessions for sessions at the pool. Hydrotherapy really is amazing.”
“That sounds good, then,” Yuuri replied, making Victor punch his fists into the air in excitement. Yuuri laughed. “I’m excited to be able to go to the gym again. It’ll be good to keep my body in shape for when I get back to skating.” Victor stiffened. Yuuri widened his eyes. “Not that I’ll be for sure going back to skating, but, you know. In case.”
“Yeah, of course. So, I’ll you tomorrow at twelve at the Henry Ford hospital?” Victor asked even though their actual session was supposed to end in over five minutes. This was the usually the bit where they talked, right? Yuuri always liked this bit, but maybe Victor had work to do, or something. Or maybe, he’d realised that his short conversations with Yuuri were a waste of time, and he should use the time to work instead.
“Yes, see you,” Yuuri replied before grabbing his mostly empty gear bag and coat and leaving. He met Phichit in the car, like he always did, and he wasn’t happy when Phichit expected him to start answering the questions he asked, now that Yuuri had admitted to liking Victor.
“So, what was he like? Can you go to the gym now?”
“He was fine and yes, I can go,” Yuuri answered, not facing Phichit and clipping in his seatbelt. He didn’t want to talk about Victor right at this moment. He didn’t want to realise that without even saying anything, Yuuri had driven Victor away. He should’ve known he was coming on too strong, god, he was probably being so obvious about his crush. Who bought new shoes just for their physiotherapist? No one. Who looked forward to chatting to their physiotherapist more than talking to their best friend? No one. Who had a fucking crush on their physiotherapist?
“You have an x-ray tomorrow, right? Do you want me to drive you?” Phichit offered, sensing Yuuri’s irritation.
“No, I’ll just take the tram. I can actually probably start driving myself to these things now,” Yuuri told the other man, waiting for the car to start.
“Okay.” Phichit started the engine and began the drive back home.
It was silent most of the way, but just as they were pulling into their underground parking space, Phichit said something again, which Yuuri didn’t want to hear. “Um, has Victor said anything about going back to skating, yet? I assume he’s going to be there when you start to get back to the ice, right?” Yuuri leant his head against the headrest and closed his eyes. He shrugged. “I suppose you’ll find that out tomorrow, huh? You must be anxious about it… I’m sorry for bringing it up.” Yuuri sighed, letting Phichit think that he was in a bad mood because tomorrow he’d get an idea of how his bone was doing. Honestly? Yuuri hadn’t even thought of that, all he could think of was how his time with Victor had been cut short. But, now that Phichit had brought it up, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. What if he really couldn’t go back to competitive skating?
–
Yuuri laid back in the x-ray room, looking at the radiologist, Yuuri’s doctor and Victor standing in the room opposite it. They were all looking at one photograph, pointing out things and discussing it. Yuuri had been here for twenty minutes, much longer that he would normally have because of how much they were talking in there. Why couldn’t they just take the photos and then talk about it?
The radiologist took a few more shots and printed them out, which took another ten minutes, but soon Victor and his doctor was helping him out of the weird, beige leather and chair and back into his shoes. (Yuuri could do this himself but it was nice having Victor do up his shoelaces.) Yuuri hobbled– having his ankle bent in funny positions wasn’t nice, but Victor’s hands on him again was– into the room where the pictures were up on a light box.
“So, your healing is perfect. The bone is very strong, thanks to Victor, and it all healed up,” the doctor said. “Anything else we explain now it out of our expertise, and I think if Victor has anything else to say, he’ll tell you, but for now, your bone is good and perfect. We don’t know much about movement and we’re not athletes so we don’t know what you get up to– again, this is Victor’s area– but we’re really happy with how everything has gone. We’ll keep you with Victor for the rest of the three month period, more or less if Victor thinks so, but other than that you’ve done well, and most of the gritty stuff is over,” Mr Giacometti told him, with a big smile. “I hope the rest of your time with Victor goes well, and we were happy to be of service to you, Mr Katsuki.”
“Oh, well, thank you, really,” Yuuri said awkwardly, before walking out the of the room with a wave. Victor followed him closely behind, not saying anything.
“Yuuri, I think we should go get some lunch,” Victor said, gesturing to the strip of cafes in the hospital.
“Lunch?” Yuuri asked, his brows scrunching at the look of all the tacky, American cafes. “Here? With you?”
“Well, maybe not here, but somewhere else, da?” Yuuri nodded, loving the way Victor said ‘da?’ Yuuri wished he could here him speak Russian. It would probably be really sexy. “Alright, well, there’s this sandwich place across the road from where I work, so we could go there?” Yuuri nodded again. “Did you drive here?”
“No, I took the tram,” Yuuri replied, hoping he could ride with Victor. Or actually ride Victor. That too. Yuuri imagined Victor’s car being super expensive because he probably earned a lot of money being a physiotherapist and all.
“Oh! I’ll drive us, then,” Victor offered, heading to the elevators to take them down to the underground car park. Yuuri’s heart fluttered. Ah! He would be riding with Victor. Thanks to Phichit, he’d been worrying about today for all of yesterday, or half of yesterday, because Yuuri was to distracted by Victor to actually worry about his bone not being strong enough and all that, but today wasn’t so bad. Kind of awkward and boring yes, but Victor was there being all attractive and rich, so it was just an average day for Yuuri.
The pair stepped into the elevator, rode it down, stepped out and, of course, Victor’s car was right outside. It was a goddamn Maserati, too. A grey Maserati stood in front of Yuuri, leather interior and all. Yuuri swallowed and blushed at Victor opening the door for him. Yuuri slipped in as gracefully as he could, which wasn’t that graceful under the gaze of Victor Nikiforov. Victor in the other side, and they did up their seatbelt in tandem, fluffy seatbelt covers sitting on their shoulders. Yuuri tried to squeeze his body up as much as possible, wanting the least amount of him to touch Victor’s flawlessly clean Maserati. Victor drove them out of the underground carpark, surprisingly not saying much. But Yuuri didn’t really know much about Victor outside of work, so he didn’t really know what to expect. Not that this was outside of work, they weren’t buddies going to get lunch, they were just… well, Yuuri didn’t really exactly know why they were getting lunch. Maybe Victor had news? Maybe Victor wanted to tell him that he didn’t need to come to their sessions any longer, and he was free to skate again. He’d tell him he’d be watching the upcoming season with Yuuri in mind, and they enjoy their sandwiches. Yuuri tried to focus on that fantasy, instead of the possibility that Yuuri’s joints weren’t quite right, and that he couldn’t skate anymore. No, he thought of Victor and sandwiches and skating. Things were getting back to normal– soon he’d be on the ice again, and they wouldn’t have to worry.
Victor parallel parked outside the physic place and hopped out, quickly rushing around to Yuuri’s side to help him out of the car. Or, at least open the door for him. It was then that Yuuri noticed it was the first time he’d seen Victor out of his preppy uniform. Today, Victor was wearing some, plain, black pants, a white sweater and the longest brown peacoat Yuuri had ever seen. (It went down to his knees, and Victor was tall. Tall-ish. Tall-ish in a good way, though. Yuuri decided he liked Victor’s outfit, and was a little embarrassed by his own– it was just the same thing he wore every time he saw Victor, except he swapped his Nike’s for a pair of pink, faux leather converse. (Phichit had said they were the gayest thing Yuuri owned, and Yuuri may have picked them out that morning with that in mind. It had backfired, though, because apparently converse were shitty to your feet and didn’t support you at all. It had not been fun getting a earful about his pink, gay converse from Victor.)
Yuuri leapt out of his seat and shut the door behind him, ignoring the slight sting in his ankle. Maybe he really shouldn’t have worn converse. Maybe Victor was right– he usually was. Victor took Yuuri by the hand and pulled him down the street and into a bright red shop, with a glass display full of breads and sandwich fillings. Yuuri’s stomach grumbled. Perfect timing.
“Mm, I’m hungry too,” Victor said, laughing, his hand still connected to Yuuri’s. “Mm, what are going to get? I usually get chicken and avocado.”
“Ugh, I love avocado,” Yuuri groaned, trying not to think about their connected hands, but of course he did start to think about it. How could he not? His physiotherapist was holding his hand! Why was his physiotherapist holding his hand? It was so soft and smooth, and that was besides the point, but Yuuri did find himself enjoying the warm, smoothness of Victor’s hand. It was so big and wide, and god, it was warm. Yuuri tried to look at the menu board on the wall, and then at the toppings in the display, but it was hard to when you were the giddiest you’ve ever been because your physiotherapist was holding your hand. Yuuri didn’t know why he was so happy. He held hands with Phichit all the time, and it’s not like Yuuri had ever fantasied about Victor’s hands. Actually, he had, but not in this context. He’d never fantasied about getting lunch with Victor either, but he found himself getting very happy about it. Yuuri had liked Victor for his muscles and his hair and how he smelled, and he found him sweet because he followed Yuuri’s career. He’d never fantasied about Victor in a boyfriend-y way, just in a sex way. But, after today, Yuuri was sure he’d be thinking about Victor in all kinds of ways. Which, really he shouldn’t let himself do but he hadn’t been on the ice in almost four months, and he was so very bored.
“Me too, avocado is the best,” Victor mused beside him,
“I think I’m going to get chicken and avocado, actually,” Yuuri said.
“Ah! Me too!” Victor giggled, pulling Yuuri’s towards the cashier, reciting their orders before Yuuri could protest. The girl at the counter nodded and gave them a table number, which Victor took and pulled Yuuri outside, saying something about fresh air that Yuuri didn’t quite catch, but made him happy to hear anyway. Anything that came out of Victor’s mouth made Yuuri happy, Yuuri almost felt like he could listen to Victor talk for hours. (Not almost, he could definitely listen to Victor talk for hours, but he wasn’t going to admit that.)
“I almost always sit outside, I think,” Victor remarked, pulling out a seat outside. Yuuri sat opposite him and looked at the number 7 that stood on their table. “Do you sit outside or inside?” Victor asked. Yuuri almost laughed– he sat inside, of course he did. He also was not a morning person, but could guess that Victor was.
“Inside, definitely. I’m guessing you’re a morning person, too?” Yuuri asked, as a waiter came out with a Voss bottle of water and two glasses. She greeted them and poured two glasses, before leaving.
“I am,” Victor replied, laughing again, and Yuuri found himself laughing too. (Victor was easy to laugh around.) “So, how are you finding the exercises? And how are you finding the gym, after a four month break?”
“Fine. The new ones you gave me are a little painful, especially the ones with the wobble board. The gym is good though, and I’m not as fit as I used to be so that’s a bit frustrating, but still good. It feels good to do the things I haven’t been allowed to do,” Yuuri said, trying not to be bothered by the wind that was blowing his hair. He also was a little bothered by the fact that they went straight into their session stuff. He liked it when they talked normally, about everyday stuff.
“Well, that’s good,” Victor stated, with a tone so flat he sounded like he was stating facts, kind of like he did when he was telling Yuuri about how the bone readjusts to being used again during their first appointment.
“So, um, do you think I can start skating soon?” Yuuri asked, and knew something was wrong from the moment Victor looked down averting Victor’s gaze. “Victor?” Victor snapped his head up at that though, but it didn’t seem like it was because of Yuuri’s previous question. “What?”
“You’ve never said my name before,” Victor replied, seeming to be in awe. “Katsuki Yuuri said my name!” Victor laughed, throwing his hands up in the air in sarcastic cheer. Yuuri blushed at the fact that Victor used to be– maybe still was– a fan.
“Oh. Well, can I skate? Do you know yet?” Yuuri asked again, wanting to know as quickly as possible. He didn’t even want to wait for the syllables to pass Victor’s lips, he just wanted to know, right this millisecond.
“I don’t know yet,” Victor said after a while. “I think I need to review the photos again, and our three month plan. We might do an assessment of where you’re at, but of course we’ll do that on Thursday since we’re in the hydrotherapy pool on Monday, but after that I’ll have a better idea.”
“Next Thursday? I’ll know next Thursday?” Yuuri asked, his voice desperate and high. He slumped in his chair and put his head in his hands. “Do you have an idea, though?”
“Huh?” Victor asked, not hearing Yuuri though his hands.
Yuuri removed his hands, but kept his hands down. “Do you have an idea? I mean, initial reaction– good or bad?” Victor swallowed, and Yuuri thought he saw tears in his eyes. Was it bad? Did Victor feel sorry for Yuuri? Was it so bad that Victor pitied him enough to cry about it? Was Yuuri out for good?
“I don’t know,” Victor whispered.
“That’s not ‘good’ then, huh?” Yuuri said.
“I don’t think we should talk about this right now,” Victor said, and it was the quickest thing he’d said all day. The one thing he’d said that he’d been sure about, that he’d been confident in saying. “I’m on break anyway.”
“What are you talking about? I thought that was the whole point?”
“The whole point of what?”
“The whole point of this lunch? Why else would we get lunch together? I thought you wanted to talk to me about stuff?” Yuuri asked, confused. A small part in the back of his mind, the part that was seriously crushing on Victor told him that the Russian he was sitting opposite wanted to have lunch with him because he wanted to have lunch with him. Yuuri ignored that part.
“Well, I don’t know. It was time for lunch, and you were there, so I took you to lunch,” Victor explained, confused himself.
“Oh. So, you just wanted to take me to lunch?”
“Yeah,” Victor replied, like it was no big deal at all. Yuuri tried to not let himself be happy at that. It was one thing getting excited about Victor, another thing getting excited about the things Victor did that could mean something. Yuuri pressed his lips together in thought.
Their food arrived a minute later, not a word passing between the men.
“Are you gay?” Yuuri blurted as he watched Victor take a bite out of his sandwich, which Victor almost spat into Yuuri’s face. “Sorry. I was just wondering– I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No, no, it’s fine. Um, yeah, I’m gay,” Victor told Yuuri before taking another bite. Yuuri took a bite of his own, almost identical sandwich. “What about you? Gay? Straight?”
“Gay, duh,” Yuuri said, giggling. “I’m a figure skater– of course I’m gay!” Victor laughed too, then.
–
Victor should’ve told him upfront. He should’ve gotten it out of the way, or at least said something at today’s session. Instead he’d just let Yuuri place his bare hands on Victor’s bare shoulders for balance in the deeper part of the water. It was kind of stupid really, to think so much about someone’s hands on your bare shoulders, but Victor did. That, and the fact that he would have to tell someone who he used to squeal about that he career was over. Victor had nearly four days to do said career ending. In four days, Yuuri would surely hate him. Surely. And it was selfish, but Victor didn’t want Yuuri to hate him. It was selfish, but Victor didn’t want Yuuri’s career to end either, and not because it would make him upset. Well, that too, but more because he’d never be able to watch Yuuri skate again. Unless Yuuri decided to do ice shows after he retired. He could probably do those occasionally, if he wasn’t too depressed. God, Victor felt awful. He can’t believe he had to do this to Yuuri, except he wasn’t really doing it to Yuuri, he was just informing Yuuri of it, but still. He didn’t think Yuuri would think of that. He’d hate him, the opposite of what Victor wanted Yuuri to feel towards him.
Victor held the mug that contained his herbal tea tightly and sighed. He looked around his apartment that was dark now– Victor hadn’t bothered to turn any lights on yet– and took some deep breaths. He looked over at the desk where he’d first learnt that he lived in the same city as Katsuki Yuuri. He looked over at the couch where he’d first seen Yuuri skate. He looked at the barstools at the kitchen island and thought of all the times where Victor had waken up and the first thing he’d done in the morning– apart from get some coffee– was watch videos of Yuuri’s skating. He was so beautiful on the ice and he was so sad to see him go. Victor had first seen Yuuri four years ago when Victor had been watching the Rostelecom Cup from his sister’s facetime– she was a mega skating fan– and Victor had immediately turned on his television to see Yuuri properly. He hadn’t gotten into the GPF that year, but the next year he had and he’d come fifth. Victor had watched Yuuri adjust to being in the spotlight, and while Yuuri had come third last GPF, Yuuri was undoubtedly one of the best figure skaters in the world, and to Victor, he was the best. Last year Yuuri had come first at Worlds, and Victor had been so proud. He felt sorry for Nathan Chen and Adam Rippon (who he was so very, very gay for,) but Yuuri was just so much more beautiful than them. And seeing Yuuri in real life– he was beautiful there too. Even sweaty or in pain, he was gorgeous. Victor had fallen in love with Yuuri, the skater, and over the past seven weeks, he’d fallen in love with Yuuri, the human, too. And now he’d have to break the man’s dreams.
–
“Tell me, you have to tell me,” Yuuri said before he’d even closed the gym door and put down his stuff. “I’m not doing any exercises or telling you about my exercises until you tell me.” Yuuri shrugged off his jacket and hung it up like he usually did. He dropped his bag by the bench they usually sat at before doing their usual exercises. “You’ve bought enough time.” Yuuri sat at the bench with his hands in his lap, waiting. Victor knew the face Yuuri was making– it was the face he made when he was waiting for his scores in the kiss and cry. It was concealing anxiety. Faking calm.
“Good morning to you too,” Victor replied, preferring to stay standing for this. Yuuri’s eyes raked over Victor’s uniform, and he found himself missing seeing Victor in normal clothes.
“Well?”
“Well… I looked at your x-rays, and while the bone is very strong, it’s not in the same place that it used to be,” Victor explained, pulling out Yuuri’s x-ray and a picture of a normal ankle. “Your tibia healed well, and it’s good and strong, but because your fibula was snapped all the way through, it healed a little outwards, to the left, which means it’s not as strong as it used to be.” Victor heard Yuuri sigh shakily and Victor looked up from the pictures to see Yuuri’s eyes rimmed with red. Victor pushed through, trying not to cry himself, or let on that he was more nervous that he looked. For Yuuri. He was doing this for Yuuri. “I know this is hard, Yuuri, I do.”
Yuuri nodded. “I… Keep going,” Yuuri said, letting go of saying anything else. He just needed to hear whatever Victor was going to say.
“Your bone isn’t as strong as it used to be and it can’t take the pressure it used to. If you perform any kind of jump on this bone, you could risk breaking it again. If you continued skating, I have no doubt in my mind that it will break again, and it won’t get better from there. It’ll get worse and…” Victor trailed off when he saw Yuuri burying his head in his hands. He heard sniffling, and he decided to sit down with Yuuri. “Yuuri… Come with me,” Victor said, grabbing Yuuri’s free hand and pulling him into his personal office, that had a proper, comfortable couch and tissues. Victor sat Yuuri on the couch and tried not to notice that his crying was getting worse, and he wouldn’t look at Victor. “You can’t keep skating, not as much as you used to. I’m sure you could do shows, if you wanted. You might have to do spins on your other leg, but you could still do them. There are other things to do, Yuuri.” Yuuri just shook his head and took a tissue from a table near the couch, wiping his nose and eyes.
“I think I should go… I need to go,” Yuuri whispered, not trusting his voice to go any higher. “I’ll pay for the session.” Yuuri got up off the couch and Victor didn’t have reason to stop Yuuri from leaving, but he really, really didn’t want him to. Victor understood this– he understood what losing something like this felt like. He could help Yuuri! But, more than that, he just wanted to be with Yuuri. He wanted Yuuri by his side, and he wanted to take care of Yuuri, like he had during the past seven weeks.
“Wait, Yuuri!” Victor scrambled to say, just as Yuuri was closing the door again. Yuuri froze and looked at Victor for the first time that day. Victor’s heart broke when he saw how upset Yuuri was. “I… you can call me. If you want. I’ve been through something like this before and… I know how it is. You can talk to me, anytime.” Yuuri nodded, and made to close the door again, but paused, again.
“Um, why? Why am I allowed to do that? I don’t know any other physical therapists that would do that,” Yuuri asked, wiping at his puffy eyes again.
“Uh, well. I like you, Yuuri. I don’t want you to be sad, and I like talking to you. I want to extend this offer to you, because I like you,” Victor said, hoping the words would make Yuuri feel better. Anything to make Yuuri feel better– not that what he had wasn’t true. If anything, Victor more than liked Yuuri, he loved Yuuri.
Yuuri nodded, pulling at his lip in thought before closing the door, leaving Victor alone again.
–
Yuuri’s thumb hovered over the call button. Victor had said he could call him any time, but would Victor be working? It was ten past five, six hours since Yuuri had seen Victor. Surely Victor would have finished by now, right? And it wouldn’t be a big deal if he wasn’t– he could just call later. Victor would understand. It would be okay. He should just call Victor. But, then Yuuri thought of Phichit sitting out in their lounge, eating something Yuuri had made. Leftovers, probably, since Yuuri hadn’t made dinner for tonight. He couldn’t find it in himself to do so. But, there was Phichit, a few steps away. Shouldn’t Yuuri be talking to Phichit about this? Phichit was an actual skater, and Phichit knew Yuuri far batter than Victor did, no matter how many interviews Victor had watched. He should be talking to Phichit about this. Phichit was probably worrying about him. He’d been in his room all day and hadn’t talked to Phichit, and it was Phichit’s off day. But then he remembered the way Victor’s skin felt, and how he smelled and his words, ‘I’ve been through something like this before,’ repeated in Yuuri’s head. He pressed call.
“Yuuri?” Victor answered. He didn’t sound like he was at work.
“You said I could call you if I needed,” Yuuri said, not bothering with a greeting. Yuuri was lying in bed, the covers pulled over him. He was still cold, even though it was spring now.
“Do you need to?”
“Yes,” Yuuri replied breathlessly. He always needed Victor. He needed Victor from the day he set his eyes on the man. “You said… You said you’d gone through something similar.”
Yuuri heard Victor chuckle. “I have. It was a long time ago, though. Do you really want to hear it?”
“Yes. Please, tell me,” Yuuri answered, not caring that his voice sounded crackly and Victor could probably tell that Yuuri had been crying. Yuuri didn’t mind. Victor had seen Yuuri’s skating– spill his heart into his skating and subsequently onto the ice. Knowing Yuuri had been crying was nothing compared to that. Plus, he’d definitely cried at competitions before.
“Alright, well, it happened when I was sixteen. So, eleven years ago.” Yuuri quickly did the math in his head. “I used to play ice hockey when I lived in Russia. My father, Viacheslav Fetisov, was one of the best hockey players of his time. He wanted me to play, too. So, I did, and I fell in love with it. I was pretty good too, if I don’t say so myself. But, hockey is a dangerous sport. I fractured my cheekbone, being wacked by a puck, when I was thirteen, and I sprained my wrist when I was eleven and fifteen. But, when I was sixteen, I broke my tibia, near my knee. I couldn’t skate again, and I still have to do my stupid little physiotherapy exercises to this day,” Victor explained. “I was heartbroken. My father was heartbroken, too.”
“How did you deal with it? How do you get through this?” Yuuri asked, knowing he sounded desperate, but he couldn’t help it. He was desperate. He wanted to know how to survive this, because at this current moment he felt like he couldn’t.
“I threw myself into something else. I focused on something else– I put all my energy into my studies and became a doctor. It’s not hockey, and I can’t connect with my father through physiotherapy like I could with ice hockey, but it’s something. It helps, just to love something else as much as you loved ice skating, or hockey or whatever. Throw yourself in something new,” Victor said, his voice gentle and quiet. And, as a fleeting but consequential thought, he thought he should throw himself into Victor Nikiforov.
Yuuri didn’t reply to what Victor said, but kept on the line, just to know that Victor was still there, listening to Yuuri breath.
“Yuuri?” Victor said again after a few minutes of complete silence.
“Yes, Victor?” Yuuri replied, remembering their lunch and how Victor had liked it when Yuuri said his name.
“Will you go on a date with me?”
“Yes, Victor,” Yuuri laughed. “You may have the honour of going on a date with the retired Katsuki Yuuri.”