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Yuuri stayed up more out of consideration for Yuuko than his own desire to see the sunrise.
“C’mon!” she’d begged, “It’s tradition!”
So they’d spent their night playing Mario Kart on Yuuri’s old ’64. He won maybe one out of every five games, mostly because Yuuko kept getting invincibility each time she drove through a box. Yuuri accused her of cheating. She furiously denied it.
“The first sunrise of the year,” she sighed. They had relocated to the roof of their apartment complex. “It’s so pretty.”
Yuuri breathed out an agreement, but Yuuko seemed to want words.
“You’re not still upset about me beating the snot out of you in that last Grand Prix, are you?”
“No, Yuu-chan. I’m not still upset about that.”
“Then what’s on your mind? We’re up here, watching the first sunrise of the year, and you’re being grouchy.”
“I’m not being grouchy,” he said grouchily. Yuuko gave him a pointed look. With a sigh, Yuuri relented. “I’m just worried.”
“About what?”
“Life in general, I guess. It’s fine. Nothing out of the usual.”
“Are you sure? You know I don’t mind listening.”
“Yeah, I know.” And he did. He couldn’t count the number of times she’d talked him down from a hyperventilating wailing mess. But it just didn’t feel right, dampening her New Year’s Cheer with his existential dread. The truth was, Yuuri had been so worried about his lack of accomplishments that he’d been running and getting nowhere in his dreams. His feet were heavy like cinderblocks, holding him to the blank ground. He didn’t know if he was running towards something or away from somewhere, but he knew he needed to get away, and it was starting to bleed into his daily life, and he swore to any god listening that if his hatsuyume was another one of those dreams he was going to stay in bed for the rest of the year.
“Oh, the birds are waking up!”
Yuuri looked up just as two black gulls soared across his field of vision.
“Happy New Year, Yuuri,” Yuuko said with a pat to his hand. “Let’s take care of each other again this year, okay?”
“Yeah, Happy New Year.”
~
Yuuri knows now. He’s running towards something. A figure, a man, dressed in red. A shirt? A coat. A red jacket. Fancy. Dark pants. He’s dancing, but his movements are stilted, like they’re not…quite in the right place. Yuuri wants to join him, to ask why he’s dancing alone, why do his movements look like they’re half of what they should be? But no matter how hard Yuuri runs, no matter how high he picks up his legs, an invisible tar has him by the ankles. He can hear it laughing. He doesn’t know why he needs to meet this man, but he does. He needs to. The figure turns to face him. Oh no. Yuuri can just make out a strong nose and high cheek bones. Why does his hair look like that? Are his eyes real?
~
All Yuuri remembered from his dream was a red coat and silver hair. He rubbed his eyes, mourning the fact that his internal clock had woken him up on time. He had two hours before he was supposed to go to the shrine with his family, so he puttered around the apartment, putting away dishes and otherwise tidying up until he could leave.
“Yuuko make you stay up?” Mari asked through a puff of smoke when they climbed into the family car together. Parents in the front seat, and in the back, Mari to the left and Yuuri to the right. The way it had always been.
“What gave it away?”
“Well the bags under your eyes are pretty obvious.” She tapped the ash out the window, ignoring the trees and homes passing by. “You manage to have any dreams last night?”
“Don’t really remember. If I did, I’m pretty sure they didn’t have any eggplant in them,” he joked. Mari snorted and almost inhaled her cigarette. She glanced at their parents, who were bickering about whether they should add takoyaki to the dinner menu, then back at Yuuri.
“You’re okay, right?”
“Yeah,” Yuuri said, confused. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Mari sighed. “Well, you had such big dreams as a kid. And I know your nervous thing hasn’t gone away just because you moved out of the house. I want to make sure you’re not, I don’t know,” she waved a hand, “malcontent or something.”
Yuuri had to unclench his jaw to answer. “I’m fine, Mari. You don’t need to worry about me. Honestly, you should be worried about those two,” he said flicking a finger towards their parents who were now engaged in a battle over which radio station to listen to.
“Are you kidding? They could be living on the streets without a yen to their name, and as long as they had each other they’d find something to smile about.”
Grinning, Yuuri wordlessly agreed.
~
Deep down, Yuuri knew why he was having the dreams. He knew. He wasn’t going anywhere in life. He was insignificant. Every day he woke up, went to the ice rink with Yuuko, taught some kids who would give up skating after a year and a half, then he’d come home and go to sleep. The dreams were only a literal interpretation of his waking feelings. He’d live his tiny life in a tiny town, then die a tiny death, and leave a tiny wake that would eventually get swallowed by time and new life. One part of him, the anxious self-deprecating part, practically screamed, “Thank God!” at the thought of his boring nowhere life. But the determined, dreaming part had his head in a crushing grip, whispering, “not enough, not enough, never enough.”
~
“You know, everyone calls me dramatic, but I think if they’d met you, they’d reconsider,” Chris mused.
“I’m not dramatic!” Viktor pouted through his phone. He glanced around his empty hotel room, thankful that his roommate was out for dinner. He cast about for the right word in French. “I’m…intense.” The ice in his glass on the side table clinked as if to mock him.
Viktor could practically hear the raised eyebrow as Chris said, “I’m pretty sure that’s the exact same thing.”
“Whatever, just listen, I’m dying, Chris. This show is slowly killing me.”
“Hmm. Just like the last show was killing you, and the one before that, and the one before that too?”
“Yes!”
“Wow. I’m so surprised. How come you’re still alive then?”
“I’m dying, and you’re making fun of me!”
“Dramatic.”
“I should have stayed competitive,” he whines.
Chris takes a deep sigh. “Viktor, you know that was never a possibility.”
“I probably could have finished out the season.”
“You wouldn’t have podiumed, and you’d have been in excruciating pain, just—”
Oh, Chris was starting to get that tone he got when he was frustrated. “Okay, okay! I’ll shut up now!”
“That’s not what I meant! Just…Just be honest with me, okay? Are you alright? Really alright? Because every time we talk it just seems like you’re, I don’t know, trapped? Like you’re stuck in that competition still.”
Viktor blinked, pulled the phone away from his face and looked at it as if he could check for Chris’s expression. “Excuse me?”
“Vikt—”
“Apologies for the expression but you’re treading on some very thin ice, my friend.”
“Viktor. I’m just worried about you.”
“I called to complain, not to get psychoanalyzed, thank you very much.”
Chris sighed heavily again. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make you upset. I’m just worried about you. You’re not happy, Viktor. I just want you to be happy.”
Viktor felt some of the fight drain out of him. “…Sorry for snapping at you. I know you’re trying to help. You’re right. I’m frustrated. I’m not…I feel like I’m stuck in place. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Well,” Chris said, a tinge of humor in his voice, “Last I checked, you were going to Japan next.”
“Smartass.”
~
A month later, Viktor found himself in some Podunk town in southern Japan, touring the decrepit facilities of Ice Castle Hasetsu. That was unfair. The facilities were fine. A little old, but obviously well-cared for. But he was bored. The young woman in charge of showing the company around had at best, functional English. He leaned over the sideboards, elbow propped up so his cheek rested on his fist. Another show, another ice rink that would fade into all the rest. He fancied the stadium full, people from all over the island waving banners and plushies, cheering for whoever was taking the ice next, the dull drone of an announcer calling names, asking for scores. How long ago was he a part of that again?
His group was moving again, probably to see “backstage” or rather, the changing rooms behind the rink. He pushed off the edge of the wall and followed, mind and body still trailing after his daydream. As much as he’d like to see the dressing rooms and offices, he really needed to find a bathroom. He’d call Chris again. It had been a few weeks. Although maybe not. Chris had suggested a therapist last time, and Viktor was not looking forward to the follow up to that conversation.
As the young woman led the rest of the troupe down a short hallway, Viktor hung back, then walked in the opposite direction, around the left side of the rink. He’d almost made it to where a Kiss and Cry would be situated when he saw a figure bent over a row of bleachers, halfway up the stands.
“Excuse me,” Viktor said. His voice echoed in the crisp air. The figure startled, but he must have been tangled with the bleachers because he jerked unnaturally, and let out what must have been a string of curses in Japanese. When he finally looked up, the young man’s glasses were cockeyed. “Do you know where the restroom is? The tour has been wonderful, but I’m about to pop.”
“R-restroom?”
“Ah, toiru, uh d-doko?”
“The restrooms are next to the dressing rooms,” the young man replied, wide-eyed expression unchanging.
“Oh, of course.”
Whatever the young man had been doing a moment ago no longer seemed important, since he practically flew down the bleachers and into some previously unknown hallway.
~
Yuuri remembered what he’d seen in his dreams. He remembered with terrifying clarity. There was that handsome foreigner in the Resurgence on Ice show. He was the one in Yuuri’s dreams. The eyes were the same, and he saw the man’s posture, the charming but disconcerting smile, in his dreams every few nights. To say it made Yuuri nervous was an understatement. And that same man was staring at him from the center of the rink.
God, Yuuri was just trying to do his job. He didn’t need this ethereal, strong-jawed Adonis of a man judging him for scraping gum off the underside of bleachers, or picking trash up off the ground, as he was supposed to do following each lesson.
“Sumimasen,” a voice called. Yuuri’s grip on his broom tightened. The handsome foreigner was leaning over the sideboards, ignoring the rest of his company marking through their places on the ice. “Uh, namae, uh, wa…”
“Katsuki desu,” Yuuri replied without thinking. “Uh, I mean, I speak English.”
“Oh, thank God. Your name’s Katsuki? Or is that your family name?”
“Family name.”
“Can I have your given name? You don’t wear a nametag, and I’d like to know the name of my knight in shining armor,” the man winked.
Yuuri’s tongue caught in his throat. “Kn-knight?”
“Yes! The man who saved me by pointing out the direction of the bathrooms!”
“That’s hardly…Uh, My name’s Yuuri.”
“I’m Viktor,” the man, Viktor, held a hand out over the boards. Yuuri took it and gave it the best shake he could, given circumstances. He avoided eye contact like Viktor’s eyes had teeth.
~
Yuuri was staring. He knew he was staring. It was honestly embarrassing, especially every time Viktor caught him, and gave a friendly smile or wave in response. Viktor was just so entertaining to watch during practice, even when he wasn’t skating. He had good repartee with his other performers, and was often getting reprimanded for goofing off. But when Viktor was skating? Oh, Yuuri would find himself sighing wistfully after him. He had this artistry to him, everything he did was deliberate yet effortless, from the bat of his eyelashes to the shine of his fingernails to the extension of his ankles.
When the kids had gone home from classes, and he was alone, he’d try and imitate Viktor’s style. It was in turns satisfying and frustrating as hell. Just when he thought he had it down, Viktor would show up the next day and remind Yuuri how large the gap in their skills was.
Not only that, but the dreams were getting stranger. No, stranger wasn’t the right word. They were…more unbelievable. Viktor’s dream counterpart, all swathed in reds and golds would approach Yuuri, take his hand, kiss his knuckles, and smile at him a large heart-shaped grin. Other times, Dream-Viktor would put a finger under Yuuri’s chin and press his thumb to Yuuri’s bottom lip, and make as if to kiss him. Yuuri always woke up before Dream-Viktor could make it that far, but it still shook him up, made it even more difficult to look Viktor in his too-blue eyes.
All of this came to a head two days before the opening night of Resurgence on Ice. Yuuri was behind the skate rental counter, spraying disinfectant on the smelliest skates. He bent over to pull out some of the kiddie skates.
“Wow,” came Viktor’s unmistakable timbre. Yuuri dropped the skates he had just barely gotten a hold of to whip his body back upright. Viktor was leaning over the counter, a small smirk on his face.
“How can I help you?”
“Do you know any good places to eat around here? I’m tired of eating convenience store food.”
“Ah, there’s Nakamura Ramen, about five minutes’ walk from Yu-Topia,” Yuuri said as he pushed his glasses up his nose. He conveniently left out the fact that his parents lived at Yu-Topia, just in case.
“Oh, would I be able to search that up on Google Maps?”
“I can take you if you want,” Yuuri said without thinking. He wanted to tear his hair out as soon as he heard the words come out of his mouth. Viktor, on the other hand, looked ecstatic.
“Are you serious? That would be wonderful! My Japanese is terrible at best, so it would be pretty hard to order if they don’t speak English there.”
“Y-Yeah. Uh, I’ll be done in a few minutes.”
“Okay! I’ll wait on the benches over here!”
~
“and, oh Chris, he’s wonderful!”
“Hmm. He sounds it.”
“And he has these pretty doe eyes and when he looks up through his eyelashes? He could kill a man Chris! I think I stuttered more last night than I’ve stuttered ever in my life.”
“Slow down, Viktor!” Chris laughed. “What’s his name?”
“Yuuri!”
“Oh, that’s funny! There’s a Russian kid debuting this year with the same name.”
“Well, he couldn’t possibly be as wonderful and amazing and talented as my Yuuri,” Viktor bragged while inspecting his nails.
“Of course not. Do you have any pictures of this mysterious man?”
“Hmm. Just one, from our date.”
“He did know it was a date, right?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you remember Dimitar, don’t you?”
“Dimitar was an idiot. Yuuri knows it was a date,” Viktor laughed.
“Okay, well I hope he’s really as amazing as you say. It’s been a while since I’ve heard you this excited about…anything, now that I think about it.”
“He’s just that special, Chris! Have I told you he has a video game collection? He got all embarrassed about it until I told him I had never played something called “super smash brothers!” And he invited me to his apartment!”
“So…another date?” Chris grinned through the phone. Viktor just laughed coyly in response.
~
“Yuuri, is something wrong?”
“Uh, no not at all!” Yuuri lies. “I’m just thinking about dinner.”
“You really do like to eat, don’t you?” Viktor laughed.
Yuuri nodded half-heartedly into his pasta. The clock on the apartment kitchen wall ticked too loudly. The little conversation Yuuko had had with Viktor twenty minutes earlier should not have been as terrifying for Yuuri as it was. It had been innocent, mundane. But Yuuri hadn’t needed the reminder that his time with Viktor was very very limited. Viktor didn’t seem to mind that he was only in town for another week, but to Yuuri, the little fantasy of connection he’d created had come crumbling down around him, like a sand castle in a wave.
Yuuri had been hopeful. Perhaps Viktor and his friendship could grow into something more romantic. Perhaps Yuuri and Viktor could have a real relationship, something that could last. Viktor was just so…nice. He was so excited about Yuuri’s life, he made every day less like a slow trudge and more of a marathon. A goal. Yuuri was always working toward the next time he could see Viktor, and it was wonderful. But one week. One week left. That wasn’t enough time. That wasn’t enough time for Yuuri to even decide if Viktor was really his friend, let alone boyfriend material. That was wrong, Viktor was definitely boyfriend material, Yuuri just needed to decide if he himself was worthy of Viktor.
Yuuri sighed again, not helping his case. Viktor seemed placated by Yuuri’s lie, but probably wouldn’t if Yuuri couldn’t keep up his smile.
“Yuuko seems nice. I was getting worried, you know.”
“Worried?”
“Well, this is the fourth time I’ve been over to your apartment, and I hadn’t met her. I thought maybe you didn’t want us to meet. Or maybe you didn’t actually have a roommate.”
“Why would I lie about having a roommate?”
“I don’t know, I’ve had a lot of boyfriends who lie,” Viktor shrugged. For a moment, Yuuri was confused. Why would Viktor compare Yuuri to past boyfriends? “When can I meet your parents?” Viktor asked with a smile.
Oh shit.
Yuuri had trouble swallowing his next mouthful of pasta.
~
“I think I fucked up.”
“Even if you did, it’s probably not nearly as bad as your head is making it out to be,” Yuuko said, as she hefted a box full of tax documents back onto the office shelf. “God, I hate spring cleaning. Okay, so what did you do?”
Ignoring the fact that they were halfway through the summer, Yuuri said, “I think Viktor thinks we’re dating.”
Yuuko blinks a few times, trying to separate that sentence into words. “You mean…you mean you’re not dating?”
“No!” Yuuri runs both hands down his face. “We aren’t dating! We’re just friends!”
“You brought him over to the apartment.”
“I know.”
“You talk about him all the time.”
“I don’t mean to!”
“You take him out on dates almost every night.”
“Those aren’t dates!”
“You do realize how weak your arguments sound, right? Have you told him he’s staying with your parents?”
“No,” Yuuri whined, “He asked about meeting them and I couldn’t tell him that the onsen he’s staying at belongs to them. I got too embarrassed.”
“Hey, you grab the next box. My arms are like soba noodles right now. Well, my advice would be to just come out and tell him.”
“Tell him what exactly?!” Yuuri tossed the box gently to get a better grip. “That we’re not really dating? What if I do that and he doesn’t think we’re dating? And I come off as presumptive and over-confident?”
“You? Over-confident? Stubborn and selfish, sure, but I don’t think anyone would call you over-confident, Yuuri. He has a crush on you at the least. But it’s pretty obvious that he thinks you’re dating. Hell, I thought you were dating.”
“Okay, fine, but what then? Tell him we’re not and hurt his feelings?”
“Yup,” Yuuko sighed as she wiped down the office’s solitary desk. “And then you start over.”
Yuuri grit his teeth. He wasn’t good at starting over. He held on too tightly to his feelings and others’ expectations. So, he quietly dismissed Yuuko’s advice. He’d just…not avoid Viktor. He’d just conveniently be not where Viktor was. And the “relationship” would fizzle out, no problem.
~
Viktor had him cornered between the bathrooms and changing rooms. Yuuri looked mostly normal, save for his shifty eyes and tight grip on his skate laces.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
“No, I haven’t!”
“Yes, you have. You’re not subtle.” Viktor planted his hands firmly on his hips. “Why are you avoiding me?”
“I’m not, I just got busy!”
“With what?”
“With…with—”
“Did...did you get bored of me?”
“What? No, I just.”
“It’s okay if you got bored. I mean. I have run out of surprising things to tell you. And I’m not really all that interesting. Like you.”
“Viktor, what the hell?” Yuuri used his free hand to cover his eyes in confusion and embarrassment. “I’m not bored of you. I’m just. I’m not used to having someone so interested in me. You thought we were dating, didn’t you?” The last part is so quiet, Viktor can barely hear it over the humming air conditioner.
“We weren’t?”
“No, we weren’t. At least, I wasn’t ready to be dating you. I’m, uh, I don’t know how to put it nicely. I’m a private person. I need to really know someone before I can commit to them romantically. I need you to be a friend to me before I can even think of you romantically. I’m sorry.”
“But that’s not a no,” Viktor said, straightening his posture. “We’re friends now, right?”
“Uh, yeah, but—”
“And there’s a possibility we could have a future?”
“I-I guess, but Viktor, you’re leaving in two days. A ‘future’ isn’t going to happen in two days.”
“That’s fine.” Yuuri almost asked him to repeat himself for fear that he’d misheard, but Viktor kept speaking. “If it doesn’t make you too uncomfortable for me to say so, I really really like you, Yuuri. I think you’re amazing. I thought…I thought you were the perfect boyfriend. And I’m a little disappointed that you don’t feel the same. Okay, I take that back, I’m kind of heartbroken, but I want to keep whatever relationship we have. I’ve felt more alive in the last four weeks than I have in months. If there’s a chance for any kind of relationship, I want to explore it with you.”
Yuuri, chest tight, and voice caught in his throat, managed to grunt out, “That was sappy as hell.”
Viktor laughed. “I’m a bit of a sappy person if you hadn’t noticed.”
“I-I don’t know how to do this. I don’t understand why you think I’m even worth all that.”
“Because you are.”
“I’m not!” Yuuri laughed. “I’m really not. Even if we work together romantically, what, in terms of the future, could I possibly offer you? I work as a teacher for children in the middle of nowhere Japan. I can’t offer you anything.”
Viktor’s face was bright red, and his eyes were drawn together in a very unflattering way. Yuuri found he didn’t like Viktor’s face all pinched up in anger. “I don’t think it’s up to you to decide what I need in the future. Or if you’re good enough for me, whatever the hell that means. That’s for me to figure out, and I have found you more than worth my time.”
“I should go. You need to get ready for your last show.”
Viktor stomped his foot like a child. “Stop running from me!” His expression softened. “Do you dislike me that much? Am I that annoying?”
“You’re not annoying! I just. I can’t understand it. I can’t accept it. As I am now,” he added as an afterthought. “You really should get ready though. I’m not trying to run. I’m just trying to look out for you.” And with that Yuuri slipped away. In his anger, Viktor let him go.
~
A month later, and Viktor was feeling restless. He had accompanied his troupe to Australia, as his schedule dictated, and found himself anticipating nothing but the final performance of Resurgence on Ice. He’d known this feeling before, the desire to do something, but not knowing what that something was. He knew he had practices and performances, and yes, of course that was something to do, but whenever he thought about doing them, his energy seemed to evaporate. He’d called Chris three times in the last week, whining about not hearing back from Yuuri. Last time, Chris had told him to very kindly fuck off which was fair, considering training would be starting soon, and Chris had contracts to fulfill.
He contemplated that for a moment, but his mind wandered to the strange dreams he’d been having, involving a suspiciously handsome silhouette. The man was probably about a hundred fifty centimeters, if Viktor had to estimate based on his own height, with black hair, and dark blue clothes. Desperately, Viktor wanted it to be Yuuri, calling out to him from across an ocean with the impossibility inherent in dreams. He wanted it so badly.
Viktor, alone in his hotel room, almost felt bad as he hit the call button once again. Chris picked up on the second ring.
“Viktor, I have great news!”
“Hmm?”
“You’re coming for the final ice show of the season!”
“Is that a double entendre?”
“No, no, switch to French, English is awful,” Chris whined. In French he went on to explain, “I am appearing in one final ice show this summer, and I asked the coordinators if I could bring you along to perform with me. They approved! You’re coming to Paris with me and performing again!”
“I perform for a career, Chris.”
“Yes, I know, but this is a competitive ice show! Well, not competitive, since there are no judges, but a competitive level ice show!”
“Wonderful, I can show everyone how little I can do on the ice.”
“You can do quite a bit you know.”
“I’m also confused why your coordinators would allow a no-name ice performer an into a show like that.”
“Viktor, I don’t know if you remember your days in juniors, even before the injury, but you weren’t a ‘no-name.’ People still talk about you.”
“All good things, too, I’m sure.”
“When did you get so depressing to talk to?”
“Hmm.”
“You don’t need to be worried about jumping or anything either; everyone downgrades jumps. The focus is on performance and pleasing the crowd, which are your favorite parts of skating anyway, right? Please Viktor, this could be so good for you!”
Viktor ran a hand through his bangs, squinting in the darkness. Sighing, he said, “Fine. Fine. I’ll be off work in two days anyway. Not like I have much else to do.”
“That’s the spirit!” Chris goaded, but he sounded genuinely pleased with Viktor’s answer.
So, Viktor began choreographing. Chris was right, he did enjoy the expressive aspects of skating, and creating for himself was always something of a selfish pleasure. But he still felt that lagging feeling behind his ribs, like no matter how beautiful and well-choreographed, his program could never reach the glittering heights it should have. Fine. It was fine. His program was acceptable. Chris said as much when Viktor finally managed to get to Paris and show it to him. But it wasn’t the feeling he remembered from performing, hell it wasn’t even the feeling he got when he was showing off for Yuuri a month ago.
He sent Yuuri a text at least once a day.
Sometimes Yuuri would read it.
~
“You’re all mopey again!” Yuuko accused.
“I’m not mopey!” Yuuri pushed and pulled the mop he was using with more force, as if that would get Yuuko off his back.
“You are. What’s got your panties in a twist?”
“Panties? Really?”
Yuuko shrugged.
“I’m just tired.”
“Tired. Right. Are you sure this has nothing to do with the fact that you not-boyfriend has been gone for over a month and you haven’t heard from him?”
Yuuri’s grip on the mop handle tightened. “No.”
“Uh-huh. Sure.”
“It’s not about him! We sorted everything out.” They hadn’t. Yuuri knew they hadn’t, and he hated lying, but it was just so much easier. He’d get over Viktor anyway.
“Yuuri, even if you ‘sorted everything out’ that doesn’t mean you’re happy. It’s okay. I just wish you’d talk to me about it. Just a little bit.”
“I’m fine. I just…I guess I miss him a little. Which is stupid.”
“It’s not stupid—”
“It is. It’s not like I don’t hear from him, either. I got a text from him earlier today.”
“Really? What did it say?!”
“The same as all his other morning texts. That he hopes I have good day, and that he’s looking forward to hearing from me.”
Yuuko blinks, mouth agape. “I’m sorry, I thought I heard you just say that he texts you every morning.”
“Well, if not every morning, most mornings.” Yuuri hunched over the mop bucket, awaiting Yuuko’s impending wrath.
“Please tell me you’ve been responding,” she said with a slowly souring smile.
“It’s…gotten to the point where it might actually be rude if I did text him back,” Yuuri mumbled.
“Katsuki Yuuri, you’re an absolute idiot!” She threw her dirty wash rag at his face, and it connected with a satisfying whap. “That hot foreinger is practically crawling on his knees for a chance with you and you’re leaving him on read?! Are you out of your mind?!”
“No! M-Maybe?!” Yuuri swats the rag out of his face. “I can’t—it wouldn’t work! He travels so much for his job, and I have nothing to offer. It’s best if we just forget about each other and move on.”
“Yuuri. If you don’t at least try, you’re going to regret this for the rest of your life.”
“No, I won’t.”
“Yes, you will! I know you!”
“Yuuko!” Yuuri threw his hands up, exasperated, “There is not universe in which Viktor and I are a viable couple! It’s okay. It’s fine.”
“Yuuri, do you remember Takeshi?”
“The guy who used to bully me all through middle school?”
“Yeah. Him. He was, well, he was sweet on me. Second year of highschool, he asked me to be his girlfriend. I turned him down.”
Yuuri said nothing, sensing her silence was just a natural pause rather than an invitation to speak.
“Sometimes I wonder what things could have been like if I’d accepted. He was…a good guy, when he wanted to be.” Yuuri rolled his eyes at that. “And I regret not at least trying. And I’m terrified that it’s gonna be the same for you. Think about it, five years from now, are you gonna regret not taking this chance? Are you gonna look back and think about all the chances you didn’t take and wonder how much fuller your life could have been?”
“Do you…think about that a lot, Yuu-chan?” Yuuri said hesitantly. Yuuko’s only response was a sad smile. “I didn’t realize. I’m sorry. That’s a lot to handle on your own.”
“Yuuri, it’s fine. Not all of us can be as outwardly mopey as you!”
Yuuri glared at her, though his gaze held no heat. “I want to text him back. I just don’t know what to say. I’m not. I’m not interesting like him.”
“What the hell do you think I’m here for?” Yuuko said, smiling again. “Give me your phone, let me see the messages. I’ll help you whip up the perfect response.”
~
That figure in blue, the one in his dreams, it had to be Yuuri. He was so skittish, but so determined. Last night, Viktor had dreamt the man, Yuuri, had taken his hand, and even though Viktor couldn’t remember his face, his hand. So soft, like that time they’d both accidently reached for the same pair of chopsticks. The figure moved so gracefully, blue coat trailing behind him, despite his hesitance. Viktor just wanted to see his face. He knew it was Yuuri, he just wanted to see his face.
~
Hey Viktor, have you seen this?
Viktor glances at the link for a moment, not really seeing much past the string of Japanese characters. Knowing Chris, it could be anything from a cute puppy or cat video, to an extremely raunchy clip from a porno.
What is it?
Just watch it
I’m in public
We both know thats a lie just watch it you ho
Viktor rolled his eyes but clicked the link, then waited for his phone to switch to the YouTube app. His eyes flicked open as soon as he heard the opening trumpet notes, and saw a figure in blue fade into the picture. The camerawork was a little shaky, obviously unprofessional, on a phone. It was Yuuri. Viktor took a deep breath as the singer crooned out the first few words. Yuuri probably had no idea what she was saying, since he didn’t know French, but that was irrelevant, considering the emotion in her voice. Yuuri’s skill was equal to Viktor’s, if Viktor were feeling generous with himself. Much more emphasis on the technical aspects, especially when Yuuri whipped through his spins like he was at the center of a merry-go-round. By the time the woman’s voice over the speakers began singing in English, Yuuri had lost himself to the music, letting the slow, plodding beats plot his steps from one end of the rink to the other. It was magical, in Viktor’s opinion, not knowing if the performance was the product of the music, or vice-versa.
Viktor might have been a little misty-eyed as Yuuri nailed the final three spins into his ending pose. The ending was a little jumbled as Yuuko’s excited cheers and clapping sound.
How did you find this?
I always search for our programs after the show is done. It popped up in the recommended. Pure chance.
Viktor took a second to take in how lucky he’d been. So many things must have lined up for that video to reach him. He sighs and thanks God or whoever else might be listening for Chris and Yuuko specifically. He’s not waiting around for Yuuri to respond anymore. He pulls up the Areoflot website.
~
Yuuko rolled her eyes. “You’re still moping. Oh my God. I go out of my way to help you and you still act like your pet died or something.”
“I don’t have a pet,” Yuuri defended.
“It’s been what two days since we filmed?”
“Three.”
“And you haven’t heard anything back from him?”
Yuuri’s eyes dart looking for a way out of this one. “Mmm.”
“Yuuri.”
“Hmm?”
“You did send the video to him, didn’t you?”
“Well—”
“Yuuri!” Yuuko slapped her clipboard down on the barrier wall. “Are you serious?! God, I take it back, you are the worst!”
“Yuuko!” Yuuri whined, “I was gonna do it, I promise I was, but then I started thinking about it, and what if, uh, what if he thinks it funny? What if he’s insulted?”
Yuuko seemed like she was trying to understand for a moment before she gave up. “Huh?”
“I’m not. I’m not nearly as good as him, so what if he makes fun of me or something? Or hates me for butchering his program?”
“Oh my God, Yuuri,” she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Fine! I give up!” Throwing her arms up, she stalked out of the rink and towards the front desk. “I’m glad I uploaded it then. Maybe he’ll stumble upon it or something.”
“You what?!”
Yuuko gave a saucy wave as she let the door shut behind her. Yuuri grumbled, but went back to scraping yet another wad of gum off the underside of the bleachers. He distantly heard the rink entrance open again, then Yuuko screech, but to be honest, that was mostly normal for Yuuko. She’d probably just seen a cockroach crawl by again, and considering the bad taste in Yuuri’s mouth, he wasn’t inclined to save her right now. Doors opened again, this time much closer, clearer. Yuuko was coming to get him to squash the bug then. He sighed.
“You come here often?”
Yuuri smacked his head against the bleacher seat he was under. That was…That voice was—
“Viktor?” Yuuri looked up, rubbing the back of his head. Viktor stood there, in all his perfect beauty, which wasn’t looking so perfect, actually. He had bags under his eyes, his clothes were wrinkled, and his hair had definitely seen better days. But he was smiling so widely, Yuuri almost didn’t notice how unkept he was.
“Viktor?”
“Ne me quittes pas.”
“Huh?”
“The program. Ne me quittes pas.”
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about?”
“Do you know what that means, in French?”
“No?”
“Do not leave me.”
“O-Okay.”
“Did you know it was for you?”
“Huh?”
“The program? Did you like it? It was for you.” Viktor’s eyes pleaded up at Yuuri. It was hard to dismiss that much emotion.
“Well,” Yuuri stuttered, “I liked it. I don’t understand how it could be for me, but yeah. Yuuko showed me all the YouTube videos. And I. I learned it.”
“You were amazing.”
Yuuri gaped, but Viktor began climbing the bleacher stairs, getting closer with each syllable.
“Chris sent me the video, and I was. I thought you hated me. I thought you were done with me, but when I saw you dancing like that, I just knew.” He was only a step and a few seats away from Yuuri now. “I miss you. I’m so tired without you. I want…” Viktor sighed. “You don’t have to understand, Yuuri. It’s okay. I don’t really understand it either. But if you don’t hate me. Please. Please. Give me this chance?” He stepped right into Yuuri’s personal space now, taking both his hands. For a moment, Yuuri searched his face for any sign of diversion, and found nothing. Viktor looked so nervous, on the verge of tears even.
“O-Okay.”
Viktor doesn’t break eye contact for a moment, face still warring between hopeful and hopeless. Finally, his expression breaks into a pout. “‘Okay?!’ I text you every day for two months and all I get is ‘okay?’ I choreograph an emotional skate to a French standard and I get ‘okay?’” He shakes his head in disbelief. “I pour my heart out to you, half delirious with jetlag, and you say ‘Okay?’”
“Yeah?” Yuuri, wide-eyed and slightly terrified, only hoped it was enough.
“Okay. Yeah, okay.” Viktor let their hands hang between them, then smiled. “Okay.”
~
They lived together for two years before tying the knot. Yuuri had insisted on moving to Russia, since Yakov Feltsman had hired Viktor on as a choreographer. Apparently, news of Viktor’s appearance in Chris’s ice show had made Viktor’s old coach remember how much talent Viktor had, even if Yakov grumbled constantly about how talent and obedience seemed to be inversely related. Yuuri was just glad he could even understand Yakov’s grumbling, given his understanding of Russian. Yuuri had picked up a job at the rink as “the nice teacher.” He focused on the little ones, trying to foster their love for the sport before Yakov ripped it to shreds.
Yuuri came home tired every day, but so excited to share his day with Viktor and hear about Viktor’s day in return. Today, he stumbled at the apartment door over a package. He picked up the box, which was unmarked, save for their address.
“Vicchan!” he called as he jimmied the door open.
“Welcome home! In the kitchen!”
“Did you order something recently?”
“A couple posters of Yura? They shouldn’t be here yet though.”
“I found this on the doorstep.”
“Oh! Surprises! Open it, Open it!”
Yuuri tore through the tape with some scissors as Viktor pulled his pan full of stir fry from the stove. Under all the butcher paper, and bubble wrap was a small snow globe. Yuuri held it up to the light, and watched as a few particles of glitter-snow flutter back to the bottom. Two figures, one in red, the other in blue, are caught mid-dance, each with one arm reaching out for the other, even though they had their other arms wrapped around each other. Yuuri studies them, transfixed by the way the fluorescent light bounced around the globe, and shone on each face equally. There aren’t any telling features on the faces, but the emotion was clear regardless.
“‘To Yuu-chan and Vichan—’ Oh, it’s from Mama!”
“Kaa-chan?”
“‘Mari found this old thing in the attic. Not sure when or why we got it, but we figured it would fit right in with you two. Good luck on this season! Hope to hear from you soon! Mama Katsuki.’”
“Her English has gotten much better. Do you think Mari is forcing her to write us that way?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. Let me see, let me see!” Yuuri handed the snow globe to Viktor carefully. “Wow, it’s beautiful! I used to dream of you like this you know.”
“H-Huh?” Even after two years, Yuuri sometimes forgot how open Viktor was with him. “Really?”
“Yup! I had dreams of us dancing together and being so in love it hurt!” He grinned.
“I did too.”
Viktor’s grin grew even wider. “And now we are! Dance with me Yuuri!”
“Wait! The snow globe! Viktor!”
Yuuri’s concerns were for nothing, as Viktor somehow managed to place the snow globe on the mantelpiece even while holding both Yuuri’s hands in an impromptu waltz. Yuuri laughed as they spun together, narrowly avoiding the couch and low tables in the living room. They danced and danced. They danced so long Viktor’s cooking grew cold on the counter, and neither of them cared one bit.