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Chapter Text

 “Yuri!” 

Yuuri’s heart skips a full beat, making him turn around abruptly in search of Victor’s face, following his voice. Of course, it was not him whom he was talking to. It was the Russian Yuri, the ice tiger and rising star who looked at Victor angrily and bickered about something in a high-pitched voice as they reached Yakov. It is noisy in the rink lobby and Yuuri bites his lip as he stares at Victor. 

He should- no. He can’t do it anymore. He promised himself he wouldn’t do it yet, reaching out to Victor, but he’s just there and he’s so, so pretty and he’s smiling kindly at Yakov even when he’s kicking his ass for something that happened in the locker room, uncaring of the screaming around him and listening attentively to his coach. Yuuri can’t help but wonder, how can he still be so… good? 

Then he turns around, Yuuri’s heart just stops because he’s looking his way and he thinks he’s going to approach him. Maybe talk, maybe hug him, something close to what they did before. To what they had before. 

But Victor only waves at him from the distance. 

“Would you like a commemorative photo?” He asks voice dripping honey like it always does. 

Yuuri winces at the comment, it’s not even rude and he’s pretty sure Victor doesn’t mean any harm with it. He just beams at Yuuri when he speaks so light-hearted like that like they’re perfectly fine and waits patiently for his answer. But Yuuri can’t even look at him much longer after that, shaking slightly his head and turning around as he listens to Celestino’s confused apology at Victor. His coach remained oblivious to a lot of things these days.

Although they had never been this cold to each other, Yuuri reminds himself this is all he can aspire to, and just keeps walking, heart pounding in his chest and a tight knot in his throat. Yuuri always feels this awful pressure in his chest when he finds himself thinking of Victor again. This happens all the time, but Victor used to be the passion that fueled his purpose and now he is just… empty. It’s hard not to hurt after thinks like this one.  

Yuuri remembers Victor being the reason he ended up following Minako’s advice on going for skating instead of ballet, why he traded his slippers for skates and why he agreed on moving to America all those years ago. Yuuri was so in love with him before everything broke and he certainly influenced him, enormously, to become both the skater and person he was to this day. But more than that, he used to be his best friend, the closest thing he would ever have as a soulmate… In and out of the ice. Time favored them but distance hurt both, now it’s all too painful to bear and Yuuri wonders if he could ever look at him the same way he used to. 

It’s very easy for him to go back to where it all began, when he was happier, at the very beginning of everything when Victor just another star in the sky instead of the sun. Yuuri would’ve never imagined their paths would find so quickly, so naturally, and Yuuri certainly would’ve never even dreamed of becoming what he became with him. For him. It kind of hurt to think about it, now, but Yuuri still smiles when he thinks of the beginning of it all. Going back always made him feel better and safe. 

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Fourteen

"Who taught you to dance?” 

Yuuri had been only fourteen when he met Lilia Baranovskaya at a dancing camp in Moscow, Russia. She was staring at him, expression almost unreadable if it weren’t for the soft gleam in her eyes. 

“Minako Okukawa, ma’am.” He says politely, feeling a trail of sweat falling from his temple as he speaks. And it had nothing to do with the series of pirouettes he just did. 

“Ah, I should’ve known.” She smiles kindly, then. It’s an unfitting gesture on her face, but it’s not unflattering. “You’re that Japanese skater, right?” 

Yuuri nods, unsure if ‘that’ stands for the only Japanese kid, and the only skater, on that year’s program (his coach insisted on it, even if it was almost too expensive for his family) or if it had to do with his mildly acceptable fourth place at last year’s Four Continents. It had been the first time someone like him made it that far. So he just rolled with it. 

“If only Minako would’ve told me about you earlier.” She squints and Yuuri can’t help it but feel slightly frightened about it. 

He opens his mouth to excuse himself, but Lila beats him to it and speaks. 

“You’re dismissed, but I may want to see you tomorrow at four in this classroom. There’s someone I’d like you to meet, he can use a friend but also someone to help him with his extensions. Yours are… nice.”

Nice. 

Then she turns around and leaves. Yuuri doesn’t even know what to say but he just sort of nods even when Lilia is already gone. He takes a sip of water and gets back to the far corner of the classroom to repeat his pirouettes. He doesn’t have to, but he needs to get rid of Lilia’s voice in his head. 

☼

The next day, Yuuri walks tentatively to the classroom he had met Lilia in yesterday. She had said ‘might’, but then again there’s no way he was not going to be in time just in case. He didn’t have anything to do, either way. Camp was officially over at three and he didn’t even have his complimentary classes until six. So he’s there, on his way to the classroom he used yesterday, and tries to fix his hair and glasses. He first peeks into the partially closed door and then almost knocks himself out at the sight of Victor Nikiforov in the classroom. 

The Victor Nikiforov. 

He takes a second to compose himself behind the door, hiding. 

The same skater he had been following for more than years now, the reason behind his small trophies and glass medals. The boy from his posters and the tens of magazines stacked under his bed. It’s the same skater who has been winning the Junior Grand Prix for three consecutive years now, Russia’s big skating promise and biggest bet in international sports. He’s just there, pretty, sitting down with his pretty hair down and his pretty face fully calm, relaxed while Yuuri’s on the other side of the wall panting and red, feeling like he might collapse any moment now. 

Yuuri can’t breathe.

He’s sweating again and his stomach is tying itself into a tight, tight knot. He feels like he’s about to throw up and his heart speeds up to an unmeasurable velocity. It’s like he’s falling, hard, and he can’t do anything to stop it. Victor Nikiforov it’s on the other side of the wall and holy shit he is all that he ever expected him to be and more, so now he’s going to panic about it. Truly panic, with tears and everything because this is not what he expected when he came to Russia for a bloody ballet camp that his coach suggested not only for the practice but to make connections or something like that. He can’t even remember it right now. 

Victor Nikiforov is not what he was expecting any day. 

Yuuri barely steadies his breath when Lilia appears in front of him. She’s wearing a mauve leotard and a thin, long and flowy black skirt over cream thighs. She’s also wearing slippers and a concerned look on her face. It does remind her of Minako and it helps him unwind. 

“Is everything okay, Katsuki?”  

He nods. He is trying so hard to not appear mad right now. 

“Good afternoon, ma’am.” He says and bows lightly. Lilia’s lips curve softly on a smile. 

“Come in, Victor must be here already.”

Yuuri swallows his heart and follows Lilia into the classroom. 

Victor’s still there, so it’s definitely not a dream. He’s wearing black pants and a St. Petersburg Zenit jersey. His hair falls over his shoulders to his back, those silver locks glowing around him and bringing out the surreal arctic blue of his eyes. He’s sitting on the floor, legs crossed and arms folded as he leans against the wall, looking over to the window like he was before. He barely seems to acknowledge Lilia. Much less Yuuri.

“Rude, Vitenka. Stand up and greet your new partner.”

Yuuri’s heart stops. 

“Partner?” Victor expresses Yuuri’s exact concern as he turns to them. Yuuri almost hides behind Lila as the other boy looks directly at him. He opens his mouth to say something but Victor’s already scrambling on the floor to get up, visibly blushing. Yuuri isn’t buying it. Not yet. 

“Hey. I’m sorry, I didn’t know we would have company today.” His English is hard, thick with that accent that makes every word heavier than it is. He looks over at Lilia and she just huffs unpleasantly. “I’m Victor.”

“I- I know.” Yuuri almost chokes on his words and shakingly takes the hand he’s being offered. 

“Yuuri’s a fellow skater. He’s from Japan, with an excellent formation in classical dancing and a very special talent for step sequences. He’s here for the Ballet Camp.” Lilia explains. “The same one-”

“I turned down, I know.” He whines, blush darkening his cheeks like he’s being embarrassed by the ballerina. “I don’t like ballet, Lilia. I only take those stretching lessons because you make me but you know I’m no good at it.”

“Because you’re not passionate about it like Yuuri is. Neither you know it as I know it. I feel like you could incorporate it a bit more into your programs if you found it exciting enough. That’s why Yuuri is here, I think he could ease you into it.”

Yuuri shakes his head and looks over at Lilia, confusedly. The woman doesn’t even spare him a look. 

“I saw your Firebird exhibition in Osaka last winter. A friend of Minako’s and mine invited me to the show while I was in Japan.” Then she does look at Yuuri. “I believe you were exquisite.”

Yuuri almost yelps at it. He loved that program but Osaka had been hell for him. He had never been so stressed about anything that wasn’t a competition and, on top of it, his coach then had just left him. The fact that he even made it to the ice that day is still a miracle to him. 

“Ah- arigatō.” He bows deeply. “Thank you, Lila-sensei.”

She smiles, truly and approvingly, and looks over at Victor, who seems flustered enough for the day. He’s chewing on a strand of silver hair between his pink lips and Lilia smacks his hand away to stop doing it.

“And he has manners, Vitya. You could use his company.”

Yuuri dares to look over at him again and he’s greeted by a bashful, lovely smile. Victor looks like an angel like that and his heart definitely will stop working any moment now. 

“I think I most definitely could.” He says. 

Yuuri doesn’t miss the joyful ring that there’s to his voice, so that smile is genuine. Even if he has his doubts, he returns one of his own. 

“Let’s dance, Yuuri.” 

Yuuri’s heart soars.

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Fifteen

At school, Yuuri was only mildly-famous Yuuri, whose parents owned the best onsen in town and had a sister with cool hair. That was all there was to him, for his classmates, and he was fine with it, really. He didn’t like too much attention either way and the fact that there was no way he could remain anonymous when his face had been on national television before, only made him way more anxious about pretty much everything that happened at school. Which could be a lot. That’s why he enjoyed so much going out and traveling when it was skating season. It meant time for himself and his athletic career, a chance to get away from homework and teachers and the bullies at school who made fun of his makeup and costumes, if only for a while. Plus, sometimes he got medals for it! 

And yes, Yuuri had missed classes before because of local tournaments and national competitions, and that one time he had to go to the four continents in the middle of exams, and his teachers were somehow supportive of him, but this was different. He was traveling to Europe, to his first Grand Prix eliminatory ever, after winning the first junior national of his career. 

That’s when Yuuri gets to see Victor once more a little over a year after camp. Since then, things between them had been… surprising, to say the least. 

They had exchanged emails and landline numbers when Yuuri had to go back to Japan after a few more days of training. It had been awkward since both of them did talk but not enough to be interchanging personal information. And yet, they went for it. Both called each other once a week, when they could, and wrote as many emails as they were able to throughout the months. It was fun, truly, and Yuuri simply couldn't believe they were becoming close. He couldn't believe he got his idol’s number in the first place as if he had liked Yuuri enough to give away his contact information; and somewhere inside Yuuri’s heart, there was a heavy beat that decided to do funny things to his breathing every time Victor replied to his mails or called just right in the night before he went to sleep and Victor was preparing for the day. 

They were both frequent, and consistent, maybe too much for a pair of young athletes in their teens with many other obligations to attend besides training and practicing. But they managed, and they were constant. Eventually, they also started sharing packages of sweets and small goods whenever they could afford it, exchanging gifts for special dates and sharing their lives through bits and pieces of whom they were and what they liked the most, of their cultures and their daily lives. 

Now, Yuuri would be dead if Victor ever found out he had his Russian Team jacket stuffed in the bottom of his backpack that day at the rink. 

'To keep you warm wherever you go!’ The note read. And God was Sweden cold. 

Yuuri's group had finished their participation on the free skate block, they were the last division from juniors and most of them, like Yuuri, were only picking their things up before they could go to the hotel and finally relax. 

Victor, in comparison, bursts through the doors in Yakov’s arms. He was giggling and bright-eyed, he had just won another first place. As to be expected.

What no one, absolutely no one, expected was the crushing hug he gave Yuuri when they found each other inside of the locker room. He let go of Yakov and reached immediately for Yuuri, arms stretched and a hopeful look in his face.  

“Yuurishka!” He calls him in the ear. “I looked for you all over the place after your program, it was great!” 

Yuuri snorts, not knowing what to say and barely taps Victor back in both awkwardness and confusion. Talking about their days through a screen is far much easier than actually touching each other. Yuuri might, or might not, be crying on the inside. He only smiles politely once Victor lets him go. If he sensed Yuuri’s panic, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he blushed like he just realized what he did and looks to his feet with a feverish smile. 

“Thank you, Victor-san.” Yuuri bows slightly. “Congratulations to you on another win.” 

‘You were perfect, amazing’, he wants to say. Instead, he looks down too as Victor raises his head. 

“Spasiba, Yura. I’m so glad I could see you tonight.” He nudges him carefully, by the elbow and Yuuri's heart stops. “Listen, I have an early flight tomorrow but promise me you’ll let me hang out with you at worlds. You are going to worlds, right?” 

He’s like a puppy. An overly excited puppy and it reminds Yuuri of Vicchan. It’s embarrassing, really, when he thinks of that. 

“I- I guess. Sure. Why not? I’ll do my best.” He rambles, crimson tainting his cheeks pink and hands trembling as he holds to the straps of his backpack fiercely. “I- I’ll see you then, Victor.”

It's awkward. So painfully awkward to face each other like this after months and months of calling and messaging each other. Yuuri is so nervous in front of Victor, he truly isn't used to be this close to him. It's like a dream. So it puts him in a very funny position to not know how to talk to one of his closest friends, if he can call him that. 

He only smiles hugely, heartfelt, and nods before launching himself to hug Yuuri again. He flinches for a second and then thinks of Lilia, who certainly put him into his path for a reason.  He thinks of her words, ‘he could use a friend’, she had said. And even if he doesn't want to think too much about that, he clings to it like the only reminder he has to feel like he can have this. Like he has a right over Victor’s friendship and attention. So he just sighs. 

Victor's hair is tickling his chin and he's pretty sure he's got some on his lips, but he couldn’t care less at that point now that they were hugging tightly as ever. 

☼

Yuuri’s going over his coach's notes on his short program for worlds when he logs in to one of his top Victor blogs. He was too stressed to keep reading about how he had to keep doing leg strengthening exercises to improve his jump landings and preferred to find out over the latest news on his best friend just to see what has Victor forget to mention on his calls and emails. It’s just a fun thing he enjoys doing, also, just because they talk frequently does not mean he doesn't want HQ pictures of him on his computer, by the way. 

So he opens the breaking news tab and goes over what he already knows. The new program, the ad he did for television and the documentary they will televise before worlds on the Russian Ice Skating team. What grabs Yuuri’s attention and makes him read twice, and then thrice, is the latest gossip over Victor’s personal life. 

Victor was sixteen, a year older than Yuuri, and word was around that he had a boyfriend. 

A boyfriend, Yuuri almost snorted at the thought. Like Victor had the time for relationships. He almost skipped the article to watch yet again the clip of the ad but his curiosity won over him. Victor truly had not mentioned anything about being in a relationship of any sort. So he dived into the comments section of the note, reading about his new ‘romance’. It wasn’t about a pretty prima ballerina from the Vaganova Academy or an Olympic Athlete, much less a fellow skater, and it made all this even more amusing. And intriguing. Yuuri bit his lip and kept reading, everyone said it was a student from St. Petersburg, a highschool senior. 

Nothing out of the extraordinary was mentioned in the article, which was confusing. Victor should date royalty, not just anyone. Yuuri rolled his eyes as he read over the fansite’s post. It seemed ridiculous but then again Victor hadn’t replied to his emails in a while, a bit over a couple of weeks in fact, and it must’ve been because yes he might have a boyfriend, one he never talked to Yuuri about and was too busy smooching him to read over Yuuri’s rant about English classes. 

Yuuri shivered and bit his lip, thinking of Victor smooching someone was unnerving. He did not like what it did to his stomach. So Yuuri shook his head and opened a new tab, looking at the search bar of his browser before huffing. Just to be sure, he typed in ‘victor nikiforov boyfriend’ and waited a couple of seconds before sure enough, there they were. Tens of notes on his best friend’s personal life. On his dating life. 

He would normally be pissed off, annoyed and disgusted at the excessive attention directed to a poor teenager trying to have a normal life experience. Praying into his feelings and his heart and hunting him down for a good article and paparazzi gossip about a poor kid having a crush. But there he was, reading over the different articles because he knew what it was to have a crush, to be attracted to someone. And he’d like an ounce of insight into Victor’s. It was a tall, dark-haired and good looking student with glasses. The photos embedded in the note showed him holding Victor's hand in a little Russian café, his unmistakable silver hair trying to cover his face in a glistening curtain that fell to his shoulders. The picture was grainy and blurry and positively horrible, proof of the low quality of both the journal and the journalists who seemed to be willing to follow a sixteen-year-old kid into an innocent date. 

But it was Victor, Yuuri could swear it was god-damned Victor Nikiforov because he would recognize him in the dark, at the end of the world. So there was no doubt. Victor just didn’t tell him anything about his boyfriend because yeah, he could have a boyfriend. And Yuuri did not need to know absolutely everything about Victor just because. Like, he’s not entitled to know every single thing about him, right? 

Then again, Worlds are coming and Yuuri scraped his qualification after that horrible, god-awful landing at the eliminatory and if Yuuri’s been working himself to the bone Victor must be, too, and that can be another logical reason for his absence from Yuuri’s life. Maybe he will tell him about his boyfriend in time? Although, that says a lot about Victor's schedule, too. He probably doesn't have the time to nurse a highschool romance when he's already too busy working his soul to the top. That’s probably it, it must be, Victor also has other friends, right?

Over it, Yuuri closes his browser and logs off of his profile. He turns off the computer and shuffles over to his bedroom, ignoring the sting in his eyes. ‘It’s because of the screen’, Yuuri tells himself so he can go to sleep. 

Boyfriend or not, Victor is just his friend. And he doesn’t owe Yuuri anything. Plus he’s an elite athlete and has way too much on his plate to attend Yuuri’s needy ass, so it’s alright in the end. It must be. It will be. Victor’s just too busy practicing, training hard to rip Yuuri and any other skater that thinks half-heartedly of themselves off. 

Yuuri can’t wait to be destroyed by him. 

☼

Worlds come around and Yuuri fights his nerves to the grave, all the way from the airports to the hotel and the rink. He’s not ready, but he will have to do it. And then it happens. What Yuuri dreaded the most from Worlds. Even much more than actually skating. It happens and Yuuri shivers. It’s horrible, unsettling, the way Victor whines his name at the locker room once Juniors are done and Seniors start to crowd the room. Yuuri winces but he can’t contain his smile this time, he just opens his arms and the Russian launches himself at them. 

“Yura!” He screeches. “You were lovely, I want to see your name on the top of the scoreboard tomorrow!” 

Some older skaters are looking at them questioningly, mainly at Victor because most of them can’t believe this pathetic teenager is kicking everyone’s asses six ways to Sunday and it’s hilarious how he can be so whipped for a dime-a-dozen Japanese skater one moment and turn into the steel-cold skater he seems to be the next one. Some are genuinely amused because, holy shit, so he does feel something. Then, some just stand frozen in place the second he’s around, for they know Victor will eat them alive when he’s a senior, and watch quietly.

For now, they can still relish on watching him being loud and obnoxious.

“You’re embarrassing yourself, Victor-san,” Yuuri mutters, trying not to look past Victor’s shoulder, without hiding his face against it. 

“Yura~ You’re so mean!” He giggles and lets go of the shorter kid. “I told you I wanted to hang out with you this time around so let’s go and do it tomorrow after this hell is over.” He says, pushing away his high ponytail. 

Yuuri’s about to say something, opening his mouth without really knowing what he wants to answer to that when Yakov’s yanking Victor away.

“I’m sorry, Katsuki. I tried to stop him.” He grumbles and Yuuri flushes. God no, never stop him from this. 

He shakes his head. He was kind of expecting it.

“Ah, it’s fine Yakov-sensei.” He mutters, scratching his nape. “I promised I would see him this time, after all.” He mumbles, looking away but even with his barely-acceptable English Yakov seems to understand and looks baffled that someone would want to spend time with Victor. Yuuri understands he’s a bit too much, from time to time. But that’s how he likes him. 

“I told you!” The latter says and Yuuri feels like wheezing because this whole thing is ridiculous. “See? He is my friend!” 

But not as ridiculous as Yakov’s face at that. 

He just mutters something about the internet and shakes his head, pulling Victor alongside with him. 

Funny enough, Yuuri and Victor do spend the next night celebrating his first place. Victor’s, because Yuuri barely did it to the top ten and he’s not even mad, he did a fairly good job on pushing his personal best much farther than he intended to and now Victor’s slurping some kind of pasta in front of him with a shit-eating grin on his face and a gold medal hanging from his neck. Yuuri is seating in front of him, munching on some pizza and he might be wearing Russia’s Team jersey just because. Also, Victor said the blue matched his glasses. 

Lilia is sitting a couple of booths away from them, drinking espresso and checking on the kids with her eyes now and then before returning to her book. Yuuri’s coach had intended on being there, too, but Lilia assured them she could manage the boys and advised her to take a well-earned nap. Yuuri tried not to think too much about the ballerina being there and focused on Victor’s excitement over carbs. 

“Ah, I’m so happy we could do this tonight Yura!” He says, smiling kindly at Yuuri who’s trying not to stare at Victor’s red, butter-shiny lips. He’s really trying. “I think it’s been months since I had pasta…” Victor mutters. 

“M-me too.” He admits because god only knows when this will happen again. “I’m happy we are here, I mean.” 

Victor’s expression of joy cannot go unnoticed. 

“We should do this at the next Grand Prix! We can skip the banquet and-”

“I’ve never been to the banquet.” Yuuri immediately says because one, he’s never scored good enough to be invited and two-

“Jesus I keep forgetting we’re juniors.” He laughs and shakes his head, shrugging. “I don’t mind skipping it if it’s with you, I go every year either way,” Victor says it like it’s nothing. “I only get sparkling water and veggie sticks while I walk around with Yakov talking to officials and Sponsors. I hate it. I have to wear a suit.” He says as if it was the worst thing he could ever utter. 

“And what about your boyfriend?” Yuuri blurts out before he can even stop it, he just says it and it’s out there and Victor looks at him with a pasta noodle dangling from his mouth until it sticks to his chin. “Aren’t you taking him to the banquet?” 

Yuuri bites his lip to keep himself from laughing and reaches for Victor’s face without thinking so he can wipe his skin with his napkin. As soon as he does so, Victor’s already holding his hand by the wrist as he looks dead into Yuuri’s eyes. 

“I don’t have a boyfriend. That was just someone I met one day and we keep hanging out but he’s not- I don’t like him like that.” He whispers, trying to keep Lilia off of his business for once as if he was reading Yuuri’s messy mind. 

He sounds so serious and Yuuri swears he has never seen that face on him before, nor he has heard that voice coming from his throat and it makes Yuuri squirm uncomfortably on his seat. He didn’t mean to pry like that, he didn’t even want to ask. It just came out and he couldn’t stop it. He probably ruined their night. 

“I’m sorry-” He begins before Victor cuts him off.

“Oh no, don’t worry!” He reassures him, letting him go quickly and looking down at his pasta bowl, hiding his hands in his lap. Yuuri’s lip twitches with discomfort. “I just wanted you to know because, I know the press is crazy and since last year they’re all over me and they say so much about me- I guess I just want you to know the truth because, you know, you’re my friend.” 

Yuuri retreats his half-stretched arm and rubs his thighs with his hand as he speaks, not thinking. 

“I don’t care, you’re my friend, too.” He blushes and closes his eyes as he speaks. “I just wondered about him because I want you to be happy.”

There, he said it. It must’ve been such a pathetic little phrase because Victor’s silent and he stays quiet for more than ten seconds and Yuuri knows he’s really screwed until he opens his eyes and Victor’s beaming at him as the sun would. Just as warm, blinding and beautiful. 

“Thank you.”

Yuuri’s heart does not crack at that.

Then they’re talking about their dogs again, over ice cream, and the air is easy between them again. 

Victor does tease him constantly about Vicchan, because once he found out he couldn’t let it go for Yuuri’s dear life. But it’s fine because Victor swears it’s the cutest thing he’s ever heard and smiles so wonderfully when Yuuri tells him about his antics and the way he curls up at Yuuri’s back when he’s in the onsen. He shows him a picture of his fluffy, frizzy with humidity hair and Victor swoons. The night goes on without any further incidents. 

So they go back to the hotel, holding each other by their linked elbows and laughing at Victor’s broken English after he tried to explain Yuuri how Makkachin just got sick from eating raw fish and it’s adorable because Yuuri has never felt like he had such a close friend before and it’s amazing. It’s not as awkward as the Grand Prix. Soon, it will be two years since they met and this is the first time they’ve been out like this, so he hopes they could do it again some other time. Maybe in a couple of months, and several more nights out together, Victor will not be Victor-san or Victor Nikiforov to him anymore. He’ll just be Victor, his random friend from ballet camp. 

He smiles at the thought, he’d love that. 

Lilia walks in front of them, several steps ahead to give them some space, and never looks back. She’s very respectful, Yuuri notices and then lowers his voice as he talks to Victor. 

“Maybe you could come to Japan after the next GP.” He says, thinking how much his family would love to see the boy on his walls inside his actual home. His mom says he has very pretty hair, probably they’ll all like him. 

Victor looks at him by the corner of his eye, a long silver lock falling from behind his ear and creating a shiny curtain over the side of his face. 

Yuuri decides to push through. In total fear. 

“You’ve said you’ve never been there and I’m sure you’ll love the Onsen. It’s great for the muscles and I can get Mari, my sister, to give you a full facial treatment. Then we could go to Tokyo, maybe. I don’t know, it’s far- I’ve never been to Tokyo… you don’t have to but-”

“I’d love to,” Victor speaks honestly, brushing the hair from his face back to his ear. He looks down at Yuuri (he’s growing an awful lot so now he does that) and pokes Yuuri’s worried frown until his forehead is soft again, his tone is soft. “I will tell Yakov about it tonight. Maybe this next winter break I can visit you after all, Yura~”

Yuuri smiles too big, with too much teeth but nods and skips a bit on his step when Victor tells him so. He can’t get any happier than this. 

He wishes it could be like this every day, easy and simple. Fun and caring, their arms linked and hips brushing as they walk and talk like they have the time of the world. Victor’s very talkative but also an attentive listener when something catches his interest, Yuuri loves to hear his bicker and whine and laugh and just talk so they make a good pair. If they trained together they probably wouldn’t get much done, they’re always chatting. 

But Yuuri has to go back to Japan where both school and skating await him and he knows there’s no other place in the world for Victor than Russia so he feels just a tiny little bit sad that tomorrow they’ll go back to their countries and remain apart unless they answer each other’s letters and messages but that’s too much to ask because, honestly, who has the time? And then the Olympic Games are coming up and Victor is determined to take home this year’s gold medal and that means extra training and less time to read Yuuri’s cringe-worthy correspondence so, yeah, Yuuri might tear up just a little any moment now. 

He realizes then how much he hates the distance. 

“I wish I could’ve seen you on the podium today,” Victor mutters exactly one block away from their hotel, pulling Yuuri away from his apocalyptic nightmare and makes him look straight at him, stopping him dead in his tracks. Lilia keeps walking. 

“I- what?!” He breathes out. Yuuri stands in front of him. 

“It would’ve been better to stand the whole ceremony with you by my side. Close to me, I mean. I like spending time with you, everything’s much easier and I feel like I don’t have to try so hard when we’re together.” 

Yuuri doesn’t even know what to say. Who’s that open? That shamelessly sincere?

Victor faces him and takes off his medal, heavy in gold as he stares at it. Then at Yuuri. 

“Plus, I know how hard you work. Yakov’s also flaunting it to me every time he can. He says that if I had half the drive you do I could make it to seniors much sooner.” He huffs. “And he’s not wrong- but you deserve one of these things. You know?” He sighs and places the medal on Yuuri’s neck. 

It’s heavy. So, so heavy Yuuri feels like it’s going to break his neck. 

He looks up at Victor through his glazed glasses and Yuuri feels like he is definitely about to break down. 

“It looks better on you, too,” Victor admits and Yuuri balls his fists in fear. He doesn’t know what to say. “Keep it until we make it to your room.”

He says it so tenderly, as softly as his eyes were seconds ago as he looked down on Yuuri and locks his elbow with Yuuri once more as they go on their way. 

Yuuri allows himself to be dragged, clutching the gold circle on his palm and fighting the tears that will spill any second now if he’s not careful. 

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Sixteen

Yuuri doesn’t make it to that year’s Grand Prix, the Olympic Games before that left him destroyed. He didn’t win anything but he did get to participate and it was more than enough. Japan hadn’t been represented on figure skating for a while and he tells himself that he did a fairly good job, just enough to mitigate his shame after flunking the GP qualifiers. 

During the Olympics, he didn’t get to talk to Victor much because he did win and god, how could they talk when Victor just became an Olympic champion? Yuuri only cheers for him, loudly, and waves frantically at him from his bleacher when Victor’s medal ceremony ends. He sees him in the crowd and shoots him one of those private smiles of them and it’s enough for Yuuri. More than enough. They parted ways on different planes at different times on even different days, but that mere moment of intimacy between a huge crowd was more than enough for both of them to hang onto the hope of meeting later on that same affectionate, friendly note. 

As the GP approaches, Yuuri trains harder every day and almost cries on one of his calls with Victor, telling him about his blistered feet and aching hips. He was pushing himself too hard, berating himself over how badly he did on the eliminatory and hurts physically and emotionally on the process of trying to make up for missing a spot on the competition. 

And yet, he gets to go. 

Victor pays for his plane, the tickets to every figure skating event that he will participate in and a couple more that he knows Yuuri would want to see. He gets him a staff pass, too, to get him through the crowds and right into the core of Victor’s team, with Yakov’s condition on keeping Yuuri off of training sessions so he wouldn’t distract Victor. He also pays for a hotel room for him and Minako, who would be flown with Yuuri, right next to him.

Yuuri doesn’t even know how to explain all of this to Kyoko, his new coach. Or his parents, or Mari. He doesn’t even explain it to Minako but thanks to God, she knows. 

“So you’re going to see your boyfriend?” She teases him on the first day in London, where the Grand Prix Final was being held that year. 

“He’s not-”

Whatever he was about to say dies in his throat when he opens the door of his hotel room to find out Victor was there, fist in the air like he was about to knock. 

“Yura!” He smiles, blindingly of course, and hugs him tightly in a second. Yuuri’s not sure how to feel about the fact that they’re past beyond the point of having personal boundaries. Victor doesn’t even wait anymore for Yuuri to open his arms to him, now. He only allows his to open ever so slightly, so Yuuri can hug him back. Then, Victor closes his arms around him again like a lock. He hides his face in Yuuri’s neck and whispers, “I missed you so much at the Olympics.” 

“What are you doing, Victor-san?” He asks sheepishly, knowing that Minako is staring, and trying to divert Victor’s attention from him. Like he ever imagined he’d want to do that. 

“I came for you! Come on, the car’s waiting outside for us.” He lets him go and Yuuri suppresses a full-body shiver, only nodding.

“That means you too, Minako.”

Lilia’s voice shakes Minako out of her stupor and drives her wild with excitement as she approaches the older dancer and bows respectfully at her before nodding and hugging her tightly. 

Yuuri pretends he doesn’t see Lilia’s hand slipping past Minako’s waist.

God, Russians were too much. 

Blushing, he swiftly shifts his gaze at Victor and finds him already staring back. When Victor realizes he’s been caught, there’s a little noise coming from his throat and it dies past his lips. He blushes and looks away. Yuuri’s face is red as well. 

☼

Victor’s at the top of the scoreboard at the end of the day and hugs Yuuri for a split second when the event ends, because he’s sweaty (he tells Yuuri he doesn’t want him to reek too) and pushes him out of their bench so he can go and get a good seat for the couples’ ice dance programs. 

“I-I’ll take a shower and I’ll join you. I swear.” He promises, still panting. “I’ll find you... okay?”

Yuuri only nods, uncaring of Victor’s babbling, and turns around; what else could he do? and leaves instantly. When he looks back, Victor’s gone. 

It’s not much later when Victor is back, Yuuri was chatting with an older, fellow, Korean skater that was training in London for the next season and they both seem to be too engrossed into their conversation to notice the presence of the Russian. They were talking on the bleachers behind the judges’ podium and Yuuri listens attentively as he speaks of his latest training regimen. He’s fairly entertained, almost forgetting about Victor for a split second until he appears beside him, slipping his arm around his shoulders not so subtly, and smiling not so politely at the other skater. Yuuri’s face burns and his back feels suddenly heavy as he bows at his elder and turns to Victor without really meeting his gaze. 

The other man just smiles back and rolls his eyes once neither of the younger athletes is looking at him anymore. He keeps his thoughts to himself when he catches Victor’s piercing eyes looking at him, almost viciously, from behind the curtain of his hair. 

“I saw Vania and Mikhail a couple of minutes ago,” Yuuri tells Victor about his teammates when the silence becomes unbearable. Not awkward, not uncomfortable, just irresistible. He also wants to relieve the other skater from Victor’s eyes. “It’s so sad they’re retiring this year, they were lovely.”

“Well if they’re getting married I don’t think it’s that sad, Yura.” Victor giggles, his arm still around his shoulders and glare softening as he watches Yuuri’s blushed cheeks. 

Yuuri makes a choking sound and then he’s laughing, bursting in loud cackles before he can stop them. He might’ve snorted a couple of times but Victor only laughs with him, so it’s fine. He thinks. 

“I’m just saying I’ll miss seeing them dance together. On the ice.” He clarifies once the laughter has died on his stomach and Victor giggles, still. 

“I know.” He nods. “Although I feel like they will keep dancing together for a very, very long time.”

Yuuri only hums his agreement, because there’s a new couple on the ice and he’s enraptured the second the music starts. He doesn’t say anything when Victor yawns, he must be just so, so tired and he leans into Yuuri’s shoulder. He allows him to and tries his best to keep down the curl of the hairs at the back of his neck when Victor breathes close to it. His head rests over him and his arm falls to his waist, goosebumps erupt everywhere on Yuuri’s skin and it has nothing to do with the chill of the ice rink. Yuuri doesn’t say anything after tensing for one split second, and neither does Hoseok, the Korean skater that was still looking at them when he tries to ease himself into Victor’s embrace and keeps himself as still as possible to keep Victor from waking up.

Yuuri just keeps on watching the ice show and prays to every and any god up above to take care of him even if it’s already a little late. His heart is beating too much, too fast and he hopes he’s not making a mistake when he grabs one of Victor’s hands and cups it between his own, rubbing shaky circles over his palm as the Ice Dance event goes by. 

He hopes that Victor doesn’t think this is a mistake, either, when Yuuri’s fruitlessly trying to sleep after all those pictures of the two of them together exploding on every and any Victor fansite he follows. There are so many photos of them it makes him want to die. He doesn’t know how to feel about them, about the comments, and now he realizes he’s like that Russian student. He’s being called the same names and even Minako’s ridiculous nickname from that morning pops up on the translator. 

He feels like dying. 

And he thinks that this is it, Victor will push him away like he has meant to all this time and won’t even look Yuuri’s way for the rest of his life. Tomorrow he’ll ask for his staff pass and will ask him to stay away from him. Forever. Like he should have on the first day. Embarrassed and ashamed, Yuuri would have to do so. What would Victor ever want to do with a loser like him? He’s going to be done with him. 

Except- except he isn’t. 

The next morning he’s banging Yuuri’s door and greets him and a very pissed-off Minako with two huge paper cups, a scone for Minako and a yogurt box for Yuuri. His hands shake a little bit when he hands Yuuri his breakfast but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he thanks him with a little bow and lets him in. They talk about the day, complain about the English weather, and what they will do after the free program, Victor’s looking attentively at him and even if Yuuri avoids his gaze he just waits patiently for him to look back. He looks kind of hopeful when Yuuri does and gives him a tiny, awkward, smile. He’s safe, for now 

When they make it to the rink, Victor’s arm is yet again over his shoulder, and this time he looks just a little smug about it. He hugs him, by the waist, before he gets to warm up, and allows him to intertwine his fingers through the silver locks of his high ponytail before he has to step into the ice. When he does, he winks at Yuuri subtly.

It makes Yuuri’s stomach turn again- in the best of ways. 

When Victor wins again, Yuuri’s in the commemorative photo at the locker room along with Yakov and Lilia. Victor is hugging him from behind with one arm, still around his waist, and his chin resting on top of Yuuri’s shoulder. He’s a little hunched over himself like that, but he looks good, he always does, and holds his medal up with his free hand beside his face. Lilia is standing beside them happily and Yakov peeks from the back of Victor’s head with a proud expression. Yuuri was trembling at the moment of the picture, one of his hands was tucked inside his jacket pocket, below Victor’s arm, and the other one is up in the air in a peace sign close to his face. His smile, topped with closed eyes and a scrunched up nose, is so embarrassing he wants to hide in a hole when he sees the picture. Nevertheless, his mom prints it for him and leaves it casually over his desk on a golden portrait. It looks strikingly hopeful in front of his real-size Victor poster.

Chapter Text

Seventeen

Time is simply unstoppable, and Yuuri is now seventeen as Victor’s soon to be eighteen. Their friendship has grown warm and sincere, beautiful like a flower that stands proud throughout the four seasons of every single year, and yet they’re still a bit awkward but much more comfortable around each other now. Like blooming on the same cherry tree, they get used to the other whenever they get to meet, like the most perfect spring every time. Distance never makes it easy for both of them to truly grow used to seeing the other, to find comfort in the presence of the other one instead of uncertainty. Hence, they can get to be choppy, to say the least, but nor afraid anymore.  

Tree years have gone by and neither of them wished things would be any different. Even if there are too many kilometers between them, if time zones are easy to forget and competitions aren’t nearly good enough for them to meet to catch up. Vacations are also hard, they don’t really get time for themselves and Yuuri has not t been able to afford another camp in Russia, so they stick to their countries and conform with video calls, emails, and texting. They really use any and every way to just keep in touch.

Until much later, when its Victor’s birthday, he’s finally allowed to go to Japan with Yuuri. 

He would be there until New Year’s, which left both boys with just a few days, but that’s more than enough because he was most definitely invited to Yuu-topia with open arms and huge smiles. Over time, Victor had talked to everyone in the Katsuki family thanks to group skype sessions where they all crowd Yuuri’s desk or slip several letters into his correspondence before Yuuri seals the packages. Also, Toshiya’s very good at taking calls and making notes to deliver messages when Yuuri isn’t around to pick up. Mari has been to a pair of competitions with Yuuri and Hiroko sends him a lot of candy with little, cute sticky notes on top of the wrapped boxes. 

It’s early in the morning when he rings the doorbell.

The whole night before, the Katsukis made sure everything was ready to welcome the guest, taking in only half of the usual reservations through the week he was staying so they wouldn’t be as busy and letting everyone in town know business would be slower than usual. Minako would stay in Yu-topia as well to help in any case an extra hand could be needed and Yuuri paused his off-season training just to be around his friend for some more time. Yuuko, coming home from her first year of College, would be around as well to finally get to know his also idol, Victor Nikiforov. It was safe to say, it would be a whole ordeal.  

It’s Yuuri who greets him, running to the door and hugging him viciously as soon as the iron door is out of their way. He jumps into the other boy’s arms without thinking and breathes hurriedly as snow piles slowly over their hot heads. 

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t pick you up at the airport.” He says and Minako, who did pick him up and came on the train with Victor, chuckles loudly. 

“It’s no problem, Yuuri. I’m here, now.” In the past months, Victor’s voice left his whining tone behind and dropped several octaves lower. He doesn’t sound like a child anymore, Yuuri hears certain strength and resilience on him. It’s rich, sweet and powerful. It fits Victor and messes horribly with Yuuri’s gut. 

When they talked over grainy video calls, he didn’t sound this mature, this real and Yuuri felt his knees give in at the sound of soft maturity coming from Victor’s throat. 

He lets go of him and bows at Victor before reaching for the suitcases when Victor pulls his hand in his own direction. 

“It’s okay, I got it.” He says, thinking Victor doesn’t want him to take his luggage. 

“Yuuri.” It is then when he lifts his head up, almost gasping when he sees Victor’s silver locks gone and a much, much shorter and fashionable haircut instead. It looks sleek, still soft but also sharp. It's short on the sides and at the back of his head, very short. The top’s longer with a fringe falling in front of his face, almost covering up one eye. It’s hot. 

Last time Yuuri saw Victor his long hair was still brushing his shoulders, the streaks of silver perfectly silky in a way that could only be described as luscious, as it had always been. But now its got edge, it’s masculine, too masculine, and Yuuri realizes Victor is not just a pretty baby boy now. Victor turned into a full-blown sex icon with nothing but a decent haircut. 

Yuuri yelps. He can’t think like that.

“You look like a model~” He tries to sound teasing, but his voice is rough and small at the same time. Victor blushes.

“Is it horrible?” His complaints are proven to be annoying when even that heady voice can’t make him sound less like a child, and Yuuri feels like laughing. “You hate it!”

‘I hate that I can’t tell you what I really think about it’, Yuuri wants to say but he shakes his head, 

“I don’t!” He swears. “It’s pretty, it suits you, you look older. But good older. Not old older.” He scrunches up his nose and Victor lets out a relieved laugh. 

“I thought you’d kill me.” 

Yuuri rolls his eyes. What he is immune to, though, it’s Victor’s excessive dramatism. 

“I’m sure I’ll have plenty of other chances in the future, Vitya.” He huffs, sarcastic, and now he grabs his friend’s suitcase. 

“Cheeky ~” Victor laughs, amusedly, and follows Yuuri with his backpack still behind him. Minako is following them closely, muttering something to herself. 

“Otosan, Okasan!” Yuuri calls, yelling in rushed Japanese for his parents. “Victor-san is here!” 

His mom pops up from the lobby desk, smiling brightly at her son and at his best friend. 

Yuuri bites his lip and turns away when she runs to Victor saying a lot of things in Japanese and bowing deeply before her small hands brush his fringe. 

“She says she’s used to seeing you with long hair.” Yuuri translates. “She didn’t recognize you at the beginning. She also said you look thinner than on the T.V.” ‘And broader’, Yuuri thinks. God, he has truly spent too much time thinking about Victor’s shoulders for his own good.

Hiroko then looks at Minako and tells her dinner was ready, she accepts kindly and turns to her son again. 

“He's staying in your room, right?” She says naturally, like it’s no big deal for Victor Nikiforov, the Victor Nikiforov, to sleep in his very own shrine. The one Yuuri has built for the past eleven years. 

But the way she says it, lets Yuuri know there’s no other place for Victor to stay. Even after wrongly thinking his mother would handle the lodging for the other skater. 

“H-hai !” He stumbles over his words, shrieking in absolute panic. “I’ll go prepare the room.” 

What he means, is that he’ll be on his way to rip off all the posters from the walls and hide his merch, tuck away the Russian team jacket and hide his personalized teacup. But either way he squats and takes Victor’s suitcase over his head and runs, hoping his friend won’t follow him there. 

Minako’s laughter will haunt him well into the night.

☼

“My mom wants to know if you’ll take a bath before dinner,” Yuuri asks Victor when he’s back, flushed with both embarrassment and effort, a soft gleam of sweat in his forehead from jumping around in his room to bare it from any evidence of Yuuri’s obsession with Victor gives him away to Minako, who was talking to Victor in English. When she grins, Yuuri has to ignore her with every muscle in his body. 

He turns to his friend, who has made himself comfortable with Vicchan in his lap and smiles tenderly. 

“What do you usually do?” Victor asks him in return. 

Yuuri takes a paper napkin and removes his glasses, sighing. 

“I do it after. I’m not sure if it’s actually a thing but Minako once said the heat helps me with my metabolism so I’ve always done it that way. It might be just crap but, eh, habit.”

Victor chuckles, he probably doesn’t giggle anymore, and nods.

“Then after dinner, I will.” He looks down and adds, nonchalantly. “With you.” 

Yuuri, who was in the middle of putting his glasses over his nose once more, drops them to the table surface with a jarring sound and scrambles them with his hands to hold them back up. Minako barks a boisterous laugh and Yuuri blushes so fervently Victor notices it. He doesn’t really explain to his father what happened when he asks about the scraped crystals later at dinner. 

“I saw Yuuko on my way here, she suggested you should take Victor to the Ice Castle one of these days,” Mari mentions as if she was trying to divert the attention from his little brother. “She’s very excited to meet you, Victor-san. She’s a huge fan.” 

“Yuuko is one of my dearest friends.” Yuuri clarifies. 

“Oh.” Victor blushes. “Absolutely! I even brought my skates- I’d love to meet her.” 

“She’s very good at imitating any skate choreography. She used to nail yours down in a matter of a couple of days.” Yuuri says proudly. “The Hasetsu Ice Castle Madonna.” He chuckles. “She really supports you.” 

“Does she not skate anymore?” Victor asked. 

“Not as much, no.” Yuuri presses his lips. “She couldn’t afford a coach when she was younger and her dad really made her focus only on her studies. She goes to college in Osaka, now, and only helps to manage the local ice rink when she is able to.” 

“That’s a shame…” Victor murmured, swirling his glass of water. 

“She really helped me getting fully into figure skating, without her I don’t think I would’ve kept it up as long as I did before that ballet camp,” Yuuri says proudly, looking at Victor with a knowing smile at the mention of that fateful camp. “We’ve been very good friends since elementary school.” 

“Then it’d be an honor to get to know her.” He says, looking with intent at Yuuri. “Anyone who’s your friend is a friend of mine.” 

Yuuri giggles, trying no to appear so embarrassed by that, and nods sweetly as he proceeds to tell Victor about all he did with Yuuko in both his spare and training time. He mentions the games they’d play on the ice and the way they used to simulate couple’s ice skating events just for fun. Victor listens patiently and nods along with the story, even when Yuuri takes some extra time to think of the right words to say and laughs at his poor jokes. It’s like there has never been any distance between them, and they behave so much like kids it’s adorable. 

“Dinner’s served!” Hiroko passes along bowls of Katsudon for everyone and pours a couple of beers for Toshiya and Minako, smiling proudly at her meal and nudging Victor to have the first bite. 

“Be sure to take a big chunk of meat with a good pinch of rice. It must be coated in egg.” Yuuri explains to him. “It’s a little hot so blow it before you eat it… and try not to  inhale it. It’s that good.” 

“I can tell…” Victor eyes his food curiously, but eagerly, he smells in attentively and nods, excited. “Do you say grace or something like that?” He asks innocently. 

Yuuri shakes his head. 

“We say thanks,” Yuuri tells him. “Repeat after me, itadakimasu .” He says slowly. 

“It- itadakimasu .” He mumbles, shy, before eating. And so, Victor does as he’s told, having his first picture-perfect taste of Katsudon with his eyes closed. He hums through it, swallowing slowly, moaning, and then looking at Hiroko with an adoring expression “Hiroko-san… you’ve changed my life!” 

Hiroko laughs and bats her hand as to hurry the compliment away. She blushes and urges him to eat more. 

“Vkusno !” Victor exclaims and digs and digs through his plate with an uncharacteristic excitement. Yuuri does let his mom know he has never, ever, seen Victor this happy and excited over food. Not even over pasta, and assures her Victor is far more than just impressed. His mom beams. 

Dinner goes by swiftly, Victor eats three bowls of Katsudon and kisses Hiroko’s cheek to thank her for the meal. It’s the first time he ever had it, and he thinks he is more than willing to gain weight from eating pork cutlet bowls alone. Yuuri feels so happy to have him there, he even lets him have his favorite cup to drink tea before they head down to the onsen. As of this day, Yuuri doesn’t think he has ever been as happy as he was in that moment alone. 

☼

Yuuri sinks further into the tub, trying not to stare at Victor as he dips into the water closely. 

“It’s so hot~” Victor mutters to himself, Yuuri only snickers. 

He's really hot and it has nothing to do with the steam coming off from the Onsen. Victor turns around and the water covers him up to the waist, now. He sits down and it's barely lapping his chest. Yuuri feels horrible for peeking at his pecs, the strong and hard, bulging muscles that shift whenever he moves his arms and tremble just slightly when Victor's skin is printed with goosebumps. He is hypnotized by the flawless line of his shoulders and the striking definition of his collarbones, the shape of his sternum, the steel-like chest. His skin is perfect, totally unblemished and glistening like polished ivory. Yuuri's jaw is clenched and Victor, not knowing any better, stretches his elbows like he's warming up, behind his head, and then pushes his hair back with wet hands leaving his arms up, unconsciously flexing them all the way to his shoulders and obliques, muscles pulled taut and defined. Yuuri’s mouth goes dry. 

In the prime of his adolescence, Yuuri has had issues with coming of age and to terms with his sexuality. And it was all because he felt under-experienced in comparison to what he heard on the locker rooms. Yuuri doesn’t think of himself as a physical being, however, but that might be because his very few encounters have been with boys his age at school in closed classrooms and in the back of the ice rink who were just as lost as him and whose kisses never went any lower from his neck. Yuuri, anyways, ignored the fact that none of them were Victor Nikiforov, whom he was thinking of most of the time. But seeing Victor, the actual one, like this, made him feel very differently. He’s now not so sure about none of that, and the thoughts and fantasies he has tried to ignore for so long start to creep in the back of his mind. 

Yuuri really tried to avoid looking at his stomach, the chiseled abs and the barely noticeable ‘V’ shape between his legs under the water. Yuuri is shaking when he realizes what he's doing, ogling Victor's body like that and feeling his mouth salivate at the thought of his nails digging into his back muscles. 

Yuuri almost shivers. 

“This is so nice Yura!” Victor says after shifting until he found the best position to seat down. “I'm so jealous you can always have this~” 

Yuuri, blushing madly, only huffs and rolls his eyes. He doesn't even know what to say. His mind just keeps going over the same thoughts over and over again, and when he looks over at Victor he notices he’s not looking back, his eyes are closed, and Yuuri stares. 

“I’m really happy you invited me over.” Victor comments after a couple of moments of silence. He opens his eyes slowly and stretches slightly, approaching Yuuri languidly until he's sitting beside him. Their thighs brush and Yuuri contains a pathetic little moan. “I missed you, I’m always missing you.” His voice goes soft. 

Yuuri's chest constricts when he hears Victor's confession and he looks up to him to find that ridiculous pretty face looking down at him with care. They're friends, Yuuri repeats himself and ignores everything he just thought in favor of this. Their friendship. He supposes it's way better than anything his incredibly dumb head can provide. So he smiles, barely, and nods. He has to push aside any other kind of thought, so he crosses his arms over his chest.

“I'm glad you're here, too. You're a great friend, Victor-san.” He bows at that and Victor pushes him up and circles his shoulders with his arm. 

“It's lovely that you use so many honorifics around me. But I'm just Victor, Yura. Call me Victor, or Vitya.” He mutters the last part but it definitely reaches Yuuri's ears. 

He really doesn’t want to overreact, but he’s going crazy right then and there and Yuuri feels his blood boiling south furiously. He wants to die, really. Just take him, now. 

“Sorry.” He mumbles, looking over at his own shoulder, where Victor’s hand is, before speaking. “I’ll try, Vitya.” 

Yuuri, to this day, doesn't know if Victor's body truly twitched at that. Or if he was just picturing things. Again . 

☼

They go to sleep fairly late that night, as they end up soaking in the Onsen longer than intended and they rush out of the bathhouse with their fingers wrinkled and their bodies boiling. Mari yells something at them for wetting the floor but they barely notice when they make it to Yuuri's room. 

Yuuri only gets to close the door when he turns around to find Victor looking attentively at his desk. Yuuri reaches for his clothes and puts them on, trying to be swift and discreet as Victor does the same in the other corner of the room. 

It looks barren without all of his collectible figures of him and the framed photo cards he got recently. The walls are naked of posters and no merch inside whatsoever. His desk looks plain without the Makkachin plushie and no framed art of the Russian skater. Instead, it holds only a picture of him and Vicchan when Yuuri was much, much younger, the framed photograph of last year’s GPF and another one of his family outside of the Ice-castle. The new computer he got for his birthday, a little pókemon figurine and his school stuff, there’s also a medium sand-clock Victor gifted him. Other than that, there’s not that much decoration around the room. It’s weird to see it so empty, but Victor stares at it like it’s an exhibit from a museum. 

Yuuri scratches the back of his neck, unsure of what to say until Victor turns around and stares at Minako’s old Swan Lake poster from Russia, the one that is permanently, until today, covered by Victor’s own debut poster. It’s right above the feet of Yuuri’s bed, besides the large window with the St. Petersburg snowglobe and the Matrioshka Victor sent Yuuri a couple of years ago at the pane. 

“There’s a lot to see…” Victor mutters and Yuuri doesn’t know how to take it. He just nods. 

Victor walks over to the bed and sits down on it before taking the snowglobe between his hands and shaking it until the white glitter swirls inside it. He smiles. 

“I always wondered if you even kept this.” He comments and Yuuri swallows an offended noise. 

“Of course I did!” He exclaims, almost annoyed, before clarifying with much more calm- “I keep, wear and eat everything you give me. Even Vicchan wears his Zenit’s bandana, and my parents have their own Matryoshka. Mari has one of your jerseys because it’s too big for me. Even Yuuko has a couple of things…” He mutters. “I love your gifts.” 

Victor blushes and looks down to the snowglobe, there’s no more glitter dancing around inside it. He shakes it again. 

“I love yours, too.” He says. “I have everything you gave me in my room, I’m afraid I don’t share anything like you do and I keep it all for myself. Maybe I’m a little selfish.”

Yuuri shakes his head. 

“No, no- I, uhm, everything’s for you. Of course.” He stutters. “It’s fine- I just- I don’t know…”

Victor huffs a small laugh and leaves the snowglobe back where it belonged. 

“You have a really lovely place. And your family’s also wonderful.” He bows, it kind of startles Yuuri when he does so. “Thank you again for receiving me.”

Yuuri jumps a little and then he’s bowing, too. 

“Thank you for accepting our- my- invitation.” He straightens up only to find Victor beaming once more at him. Yuuri even feels like the sun just decided to crash into his room for the night. 

So they sit around in silence, Vicchan bargains into the room and Victor coos at him for hours as Yuuri prepares a futon on the floor for him. It takes a while for Victor to put the dog down and look at Yuuri. 

“What are you doing?” He asks. 

“I’m preparing my futon, what does it look like?” Yuuri comments offhandedly and misses Victor’s blush. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t have to sleep on the floor-” 

Yuuri snickers. 

“I’m not sleeping on the floor, this is how I should actually sleep, Victor-san.” He stares at his western bed and laughs at himself. “Minako got me that, in fact, a couple of years ago. It’s not like I have a preference.”

Victor’s mouth is gaping until he finds the right words to say, after several moments of struggle.

“I mean- I know.” He laughs humorlessly. “But we can- squeeze .” He sounds almost doubtful. Then he looks at the bed and Yuuri bites his lip. The realization leaves him frozen. 

Victor wants to sleep with him. 

“I don’t think we would fit.” Yuuri says, just to pretend he’s not achingly desperate to say yes immediately. 

“It’s not that small…” Victor says like it’s not a big deal they will spend the night cuddling tightly against the other. 

“But you grew a lot, Vitya .” 

He flashes Yuuri a self-satisfied smirk, grinning like the little shit he is. He knows he is grown now. And the fact that he winks at Yuuri lets him know Victor himself knows what he has been doing to his friend after his latest growth spurt. 

“But you haven’t, Yura.” He says in return, almost coquettish as he scans Yuuri from head to toes with his blue eyes. If he notices the way they curl at the tip of his feet, he doesn’t say anything. 

Yuuri throws him a pillow. 

Victor ends up winning, as always, and Yuuri is positively shaking when he walks over to the bed after turning off the lights. It’s dark, and Victor probably can’t see him pathetically fidgeting with his pajamas as he climbs into the bed and touches the mattress tentatively to find the right place to sleep. He takes his time, thinking it’s better this way to not disturb Victor who’s probably half-asleep already since Yuuri doesn’t want to wake him up. But then he’s being pulled down, hastily, by Victor himself, into his chest. Yuuri swallows a yelp and bites his lip hard enough to draw blood when he feels Victor’s legs tangling mindlessly with his own and his long, strong arm draping itself over his back. Yuuri’s chest and stomach mold perfectly into Victor’s side and his head gets to rest in the pillow right above the other’s shoulder. Victor smells like himself, probably because he just came from the onsen into his bed, after wearing his own moisturizer and covering both of them with the worn, cotton sheets. It’s nice, even if it’s totally random and strange, and Yuuri doesn’t get to sleep that night. 

Victor sleeps messily, moving around a lot and snoring just a little to make him sound adorable. Yuuri is too aware of his little cough fits that don’t seem to wake him up, of the way he exhales air so many times Yuuri actually wonders if he is even asleep. Victor moves a lot in the bed and even kicks Yuuri a couple of times by accident, but he never lets go. Yuuri allowed himself to be moved and manhandled around as Victor pleased, who wasn’t even aware of what he was doing when he threw a leg over Yuuri’s lap at some point of the night. At no moment he ever got to close his eyes properly, nor did he felt his heartbeat slowing down at any point. Yuuri was hyper-aware of every little single thing that happened that night. And when Victor finally woke up early in the morning, he could probably tell exactly what time it was after counting every minute he laid by his friends’ side. 

“Did I wake you up in the night?” Victor asks, worried. 

Yuuri does not plan on telling him anything about his restless night. 

“Not at all, why?” He pretends to not be dead tired. 

“I don’t know, you look a little tired to me, still.” There’s worry in his tone. 

“It’s just that I had a really crazy weekend…” Yuuri yawns and covers his face with his hands. “Don’t worry about it, we still have a couple of hours before breakfast.” He falls again into the bed and Victor follows him. 

When they go downstairs for breakfast the next morning, Yuuri feels much more fresh than he has in years. He didn’t even bat an eye in the night, true, and his mom comments something on it, because his dark and sunken eyes show exactly how little did he get to rest the night before, but Yuuri can’t hear his mom because, despite the remaining exhaustion in his bones, Yuuri’s sure he’s feeling good as hell.

Victor’s sipping a cup of tea and trying to chat with Toshiya about the weather when he looks over at Yuuri across the table, who was helping with breakfast. He winks yet again and smiles confidently when Yuuri rolls his eyes, pretending to ignore him. Yet, his heart is beating like crazy inside his ribcage. When Yuuri sits, he feels out of breath. 

He’s beyond lost by now. 

When Yuuri looks over at Victor, he can only think how much it was going to hurt when he broke his heart. But he thought he would gladly take it. 

That winter, Victor was very different towards Yuuri, in a way the younger didn’t really know how to take. He was touchy, very touchy, and searched for Yuuri in ways he had not ever before. He followed him wherever he went, he put his hand over his knee and thigh protectively every time they were sitting together and when they walked on the street he tied his arm around his shoulders in a way that kept Yuuri anchored to him. They took care of Vicchan together, bathing him twice that week and took him out on walks before dinner, Victor’s hand over Yuuri as if they were both holding the leash. Victor also fed Yuuri, becoming an expert with chopsticks, and massaged his shoulders at the bathhouse. When they were watching TV in the living room, he lied down on his side and placed his head on Yuuri’s lap. Victor turned into the little spoon when they slept at night and drank from the same cup of tea as Yuuri did. When they hit the rink on the morning, Victor asked Yuuri to teach him his last exhibition program so they can run over it together, and even insisted on trying to do some ice dance together. When they were done, Victor nuzzled against Yuuri on the locker room after they showered, and brushed his hair after massaging his scalp with leave-in conditioner. It was so odd and new, but Yuuri didn’t have the heart to stop it at all, even if he knew it was going to be very hard to move on after it when Victor left. 

So he enjoyed every second of it, relishing on the friendship he had with Victor and giving thanks for the sole opportunity of being able to call him his, in a way.

When New Year comes around and Victor has to leave, they both swear to meet again very soon, and they promise they would have more hot baths together in the future, more walks together with Vicchan and they part ways teary-eyed at the airport before Victor’s called to his flight. 

“Keep working hard, Yuurishka,” Victor says. “I’m going to miss you a lot.”

Yuuri nods. 

“I will, I’m missing you already, Vitya.” He admits. “Thank you for coming to visit me.”

Victor sniffles a little. 

“Thank you and thanks to your family for receiving me. Next time you’re coming to visit me at St. Petersburg, right?” 

Yuuri only nods. 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do without my best friend.” Victor can’t let go of him, and his hand runs through Yuuri’s nape softly. 

“Me neither.” 

And then they part ways, Victor still had to go through security and Yuuri decides to run away the moment his luggage is being scanned. He knows that if he stays, he would cry for real, and Victor has yet to see that side of him. So he keeps it in for a second more, running away from the terminal and feeling his heart missing from his chest when he gets home after a long train ride. 

He looks at his empty bed and realizes that his heart left with Victor that afternoon. 

☼

When Yuuri’s parents ask about Victor months after he’s left, he doesn’t know what to say. 

‘Oh, Victor-kun was so nice’, they’d say. ‘Victor-kun was lovely’, they’d remind him. 'Victor-kun is so pretty’, they’d mutter to themselves… Victor-kun this, Victor-kun that. 

“How’s Victor-kun doing?” Hiroko asked him when Yuuri came back from his morning jog one Sunday. 

“Fine, I guess. We haven’t-” He inhaled deeply. “Talked in a few weeks, he’s busy preparing his new programs.” 

Hiroko muttered.

“Must be hard being so successful.” She says, a little sing-song tone to her voice.

Yuuri’s eyes squint at that.

“What does that mean?” He asks. 

“Oh, you know, winning and stuff.” She says nonchalantly. “The pressure of delivering every time, having everyone expect so much of you.”

“Everyone’s always expecting a lot from you no matter how much you win or not.” Yuuri spats.

“Yeah, but with Victor-kun must be different. All those sponsors and the money he has to make up for!” 

Hiroko does not mean an ounce of harm with that, Yuuri knows, but it hurts because he knows Victor’s getting more than enough money for him and his fees, equipment and traveling expenses while Yuuri milks every single drop from the Onsen at the expense of his parents. He knows, goddamnit. And his mom’s passive-aggressive tone does not make it better. 

“Well screw me, we can’t all be that fucking good.” He barks and turns on his heels, furiously, and launches himself straight out of the kitchen’s door with his mother completely silent and Mari yelling at him. 

He doesn’t even care . 

Yuuri makes it to the Ice Castle after a few minutes of sprinting. Yuuko, who just opens half days on the weekends, doesn’t even say anything when he bolts into the locker room and furiously gets his skates out. She doesn’t say anything when she notices him tying them up way too tightly and pulling at his sleeves harshly before he makes it to the ice. It’s supposed to be his day off, which means his Coach isn’t there to pester him around either and Yuuri dives directly into a series of difficult jumps he still doesn’t get quite right. He knows he’ll only fall again and again without his coach around to help him but he can’t even care anymore. 

He’s just so pissed.

As he lifts himself up from the floor once more, Yuuri’s mind goes back to Victor. He thinks of him and his effortless grace, the way his legs curve just right for his jumps and the tension on his back for his elegant extensions, the ones Lilia hates, and his impossibly creative choreographies. Yuuri still has a hard time remembering Yakov isn’t even giving him a program this season, for Victor to try out his own skills, and his fury only rages on. 

He loves Victor- he really does. He’s his only friend in the international circuit and, god forbid, his idol, still. He’s great, caring and fun. Maybe just a bit annoying, but he’s supportive and truly loving. But he’s just… perfect. And Yuuri isn’t. 

Yuuri falls once more and he’s immediately up. 

He’s not Victor, he knows, his Coach constantly tells him so and it hurts to remember it whenever he sees all those pictures of the two of them together. Sometimes, the worst of times, he’s not even acknowledged as a skater and he’s just regarded as a friend of Victor’s. Like he’s not competing alongside him, Like he hasn’t managed to get to the same group and bracket as him on several international competitions, like he’s not beating his ass every single fucking day like him … or even more than that. Like he’s not the best skater of his own country. 

He’s not Victor Nikiforov, he’s Yuuri Katsuki and like hell he’s only some friend of the world’s most successful junior skater.

Yuuri stumbles over his own feet, not even in the middle of a jump, and lands hastily on the floor once more before he decides to just lie there in the cold to deal with the heat of his face.

He had just been terrible to his mother.

Yuuri sighed, thinking how that was something Victor didn’t truly have. 

It hurt to even think about it and Yuuri winced at how awful he was being. But it was true. He had been friends with Victor for years now and still, he doesn’t know hell about his parents. Nobody does and if in the past it hurt him, now it’s like an invisible barrier between what he could consider his best friend and himself. 

But if he doesn’t say much, that must be all there’s to it. 

And while Victor can’t say much about his family, Yuuri can.

He has an amazing, incredible, family. Really. They never really complain about Yuuri’s career and they encourage him as much as they can. They’re present, loving, equally supportive and they all break their backs to help Yuuri in any and every way they can. He is so grateful for them, but he doesn’t really show it. He’s such a horrible son…  Yuuri lifts himself up, feeling even worse, and starts skating several laps as he looks down on his feet and the sharp cut of the blades against the ice.

At some point, Yuuko tells him she’s closing but that she will leave the back door open for Yuuri to find his way out. He only nods and thanks her, still lost in his thoughts and divided between apologizing to his mother, profusely, or talking to Victor to help him feel better. 

He knows he’ll end up crying either way, but there’s something much more important than anything else in the world.

So he walks back home, hours later, with a deep cut in the back of his hand after messing up a Biellmann spin, and makes it to his parents' bedroom with tear-brimmed eyes. 

“Okaasan.” He moans, pathetically. “I’m sorry.” 

He sobs and Hiroko is there, instantly hugging him as she wraps a piece of cloth into the wound. The fabric is tainted crimson, like Yuuri’s face, and she only kisses her son’s wet cheek. 

“I didn’t mean it.” He mutters, Hiroko nods. “I’m sorry.” He repeats.

“I know.” It’s all she says before she takes him to the bathroom to tend to his wound. Years of healing hurt feet and scraped hands have prepared her to deal with this thing like they’re nothing. 

As she cleans the cut, Yuuri wonders who takes care of Victor’s wounds, who is there when everything’s too much and he just wants to cry, for him. He can’t see Lilia hugging him and making him a cup of tea afterwards to make him feel better. And he can’t really picture Yakov either. So he just bites his lip through the pain of the antiseptic and sobs when Hiroko’s warm lips press against his forehead to distract him from the first dig of the needle. He thinks of Victor’s first-aid kit, in that pretty knitted pink bag and wonders if he bought it or if someone made it especially for him. He thinks of Victor and the way he would style his hair by himself, when it was longer, and how he seemed able to put on makeup even without a mirror. It’s awful, the sensation that floods Yuuri, and it has nothing to do with the throbbing pain of his hand. 

But he also thinks of Victor’s endless patron list, of all his sponsors and the way the ISU officials smile at him wherever he goes. Yuuri thinks of Yakov, the proudest man he’s ever seen and of Lilia’s satisfaction every time he comes off of the ice. He thinks of the money, the way he can simply pay for everything and his pretty, beautiful and expensive costumes. He thinks of his perfect programs, his perfect jumps, his perfect scores- and squirms. He thinks of his unlimited creativity, his elaborate sequences, and his most complicated jump combinations. He thinks of his stupid, ridiculous face and that equally stupid, ridiculous body. The way he looks on pictures, on the papers, on posters and the press, how he smiles and how he seems to dance even when he’s just walking off the ice. Yuuri thinks of everything Victor is, and what he has, and he can’t stop the words spilling from his lips.

“I wish I was like him, too.” Yuuri says when his mother is stitching his hand, still crying, and Hiroko looks up from his work to stare at her son. Yuuri doesn’t meet her gaze. 

“I never said I wished that.” Her tone is hard, yet not accusatory and it gets her point across. 

Yuuri’s head only hangs deeper in shame. 

Unfortunately, he doesn’t, and can’t, take back what he said. 

Eventually, his hand is bandaged over the nine stitches his mom gave him, the white cloth is slightly damp with some remaining mixture of blood and sweat and Yuuri hates the look, and smell, of it. When he looks over at it, he feels like crying again. Instead, he goes down with his mom and helps her making dinner, she prepares him Katsudon, even if he doesn’t deserve it, and then she feeds him because Yuuri can’t hold the chopsticks or even a fork. When they’re done, Yuuri offers to do the dishes but Hiroko tells everyone to leave the kitchen alone, that she would handle it tomorrow morning before breakfast. Yuuri doesn’t contradict her and then curls up in her lap, even if she protests against it because he’s grown already, and nuzzles into her chest in search of some warmth. He’s not in the ice rink anymore but he feels like it. It’s too cold but his mother makes him feel safe, the pain in his hand has dimmed and she reminds him to take an antibiotic along with his vitamins and supplements before going to bed. 

“I’m sorry.” He repeats. 

“I know.” Hiroko presses his lips against the crown of Yuuri’s head and sighs. “Just remember you’re you, stay true to it, and you will succeed, too. Hard work beats talent, Yuuri. And I’ve never met anyone who’s half as hardworking as you. Not even Victor-kun.”

It’s probably the first time she says something about him as a fact, instead of asking about it, and Yuuri swallows his words as he feels them balling up in his throat. He doesn’t let them choke him, for once, and Yuuri realizes that no matter what goes on in his life his family will always be there for him, before anyone and anything else. And Yuuri must be thankful for that. He has never been alone, and he has made it as far as he has because of all of them. As a matter of fact, he would have never gone to that ballet camp in Russia if it had not been for their sacrifice, so Yuuri reminds himself of being much more thankful from now on. Not because he has to, but because his family  deserves it. He is so privileged, he realizes, he has to be more aware of that. As he grows, he has learned so much, and it is all to keep him humble. 

That night, when Victor calls, nobody picks up.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Eighteen

Time goes by, swiftly and uneventful until Victor, right before turning 19, finally moves to the Senior division and Yuuri actually starts winning in the Junior circuit. The GP, worlds and four continents, among other minor international events, become somehow easier without Victor in the ice. They still see each other, they hang out after competitions and share rooms without everyone knowing. Yuuri turns 18 and he meets Celestino Cialdini at Skate America, where he is also offered a scholarship to study college in the United States. 

Life certainly moves fast, it goes on and on and Yuuri totally hates how everything changes in a matter of seconds. He doesn’t like this kind of evolutions, fast and inconsiderate and yet he sorts of enjoys the challenge of a new phase in his life. He had never thought of going to America, the simple idea seemed far too unrealistic for somebody like him, but he has de language and the grades and certainly an ability that might get him into any college ice-skating team, he has gotten better in time and now he feels like he might as well be ready for the challenge. It would be difficult, yes, nobody expects it to be all sunshine and rainbows but Yuuri sort of wants to become truly independent and live a life where he doesn’t have to be constantly worried about being a failure to his family. Yes, they will still support him but they would also not be in charge of every little aspect of Yuuri’s life. And that was something the skater could certainly look forward to. 

It’s not easy for him to accept Celestino’s invitation to train with him, and neither is the prospect of leaving his family behind in favor of a brighter future in America, for both his academic and athletic life. So he takes his last year as an opportunity to grow and focuses on studying his english and enjoying one last season with his coach, in Japan, after finishing high school. Ultimately, he will go to America, but after having what he decided to pronounce his best year yet. 

“It was to be expected.” His coach tells him. “You’ve been getting better and my knowledge only gets this far. Celestino is great, I believe you will grow much more with him, now.”

Yuuri looks up at her after he’s done untying his skates. Kyoko-sensei had been his longest-running coach ever since he was fourteen. They met shortly after Yuuri came back from the ballet camp and his other coach had dropped him after getting some Chinese skater they had been after, and ever since she had helped Yuuri grow to an unknown extent. She was a beautiful woman, long, early, gray hair to the waist and eyes full of tenderness. Younger than his mom, Yuuri had found more than just a coach in her. She had been his close friend, devoted to his skating and insanely knowledgeable in all things life. After losing her husband more than twenty years ago, she was also incredibly strong and resilient, something she passed on to Yuuri with grace, and by example showed him how to never give up.

“I really appreciate you, Kyoko-sensei.” He says earnestly, standing up only to bow at her. Deeply, head hanging low, and heart cracking just a little. “Thank you for all these years!” He exclaims, eyes filling with tears and numbness in his throat that keeps him from crying. 

She only huffs and ruffles his hair before hugging him, something she’s been doing much more now that Yuuri has won some more tournaments. But, this time, she does it with much more care in her embrace. 

“Stick around Nikiforov. He needs somebody to keep him grounded, and you need somebody to lift you higher.” She giggles and kisses his forehead, the gesture is motherly and Yuuri starts crying. When he sobs, his coach coos at him to calm him down. “You’re an amazing skater, Yuuri. And student and dancer, but also you have the potential to be anything else you want in this world. You are an amazing everything. Keep working hard.” 

Yuuri hugs her tightly and thanks her profusely every day after that one. Together, Yuuri earns a couple of first places in the GP eliminatories after that summer, he makes it to the Final and wins a well-earned second place that puts him over the edge. Kyoko-san is ecstatic, she cries with happiness and decides to retire from coaching after the Banquet where Yuuri is treated like a celebrity after his firebird free program, a much more elaborate version of his exhibition from all those years ago. Victor, watching from afar, bursts with pride, too. 

“I am so, so proud of you, Yura.” He tells him on the elevator to their hotel room. 

This year both Kyoko and Lila arranged them a suite with a door between walls to keep both skaters into one space, coaches in another one, and some level of privacy and concentration before competitions. Yakov is staying with Giorgi, a new member of the team, and says nothing the entire event. He only looks at Yuuri, questioningly, and huffs when Victor catches him staring every now and then. When Yuuri is left alone with him on an evening after training, he doesn’t say anything but pats his back with a shaky hand in a gesture of gratitude. Yuuri is confused, but when Victor is back and hugs him from behind, the relieved look on the coach’s eyes tells him more than enough. 

“Thank you, Vitya.” He mutters, feeling drowsy and tired, leaning on his friend as they make it to their floor. Victor won second place as well on his category, and for once Yuuri doesn’t tell him how happy and in love he is with him and his skating. This time, he allows this to be about him. 

When they open the door to their room, they go inside in silence and strip of their suits without any kind of hassle or ‘secrecy’. They don’t even hide from each other anymore now, after Japan there was no use in pretending. They wash their faces and make sure they take their meds and supplements, sharing a glass of water, and head on to the same bed. Yuuri doesn’t say anything when he notices Victor isn’t wearing a shirt this time, so he takes off his own in favor of feeling Victor’s skin against his. Platonically. 

“After we met at the ballet camp I asked Lila to show me the firebird exhibition she talked about.” He muttered when Yuuri laid down by his side. “I don’t think Minako ever told you but she sent her a video for me to watch, I played it almost every night until I got to see you again. I had never felt threatened by another skater until I saw that, and I enjoyed it far too much.” 

Yuuri’s breath caught on his throat and waited for him to continue. 

“You have a potential I have never seen on anyone else, I knew it from the first time I saw you dancing, and every time I get to see you skating, I realize one day you’re going to kick my ass.” He chuckles. “Sometimes I think that you’re the only reason I keep skating, so one day we can be side by side on the podium, no matter who’s on top.”

“That’s always going to be you.” Yuuri can’t stop himself from saying it. “And I’ll be more than happy to be by your side, left or right, it’ll be an honor.” 

Victor huffs, annoyed, and turns around until his chin is resting on Yuuri’s shoulder, he whispers softly against his neck and closes his eyes. Yuuri feels the butterfly touch of his eyelashes against his yugular and holds back a groan. Victor’s got to be kidding him. 

“You don’t get it because you have never seen yourself. You can be as good as I am, you already are, one day you are going to beat me. And I’ll be looking up to you on that podium. I want you to want it as much as I do.” Victor’s lips are dangerously close to his skin, when he speaks Yuuri feels his hot breath running down his entire body. The only thing that keeps him from shivering is Victor’s arm over his chest. “I want you to see it, too.” 

Yuuri shifts until he is facing Victor, lying on his side and holding his hand, legs intertwined and the bedsheets falling to their hips. He doesn’t know what to say, he truly can’t  picture it and it breaks his heart because he wants everything and anything Victor wants too, but sometimes he reminds himself how much Victor tends to daydream, to follow a mirage until he fully believes it without any doubt, and Yuuri just can’t. So he just nods, because he feels like he would cry if he speaks, and shrugs, swallowing hard. Victor is looking at him, fringe falling into his face and remains of glitter on his eyelashes. Even in the darkness, with only the streetlamp outside the hotel illuminating their room. Yuuri can perfectly see each one of his features, royal and perfect. 

“Okay.” He whispers, eyes closing. “One day I’ll give you a run for your money.” 

Victor laughs silently, but Yuri can feel him. 

“Yes, you will.” 

☼

The day they have to go back home, Victor is uncharacteristically silent, and when they have breakfast at a little coffee shop in downtown Copenhague, it’s Yuuri who has to direct a conversation for the first time in years. Victor limits himself to nodding, shaking his head and keeping his verbal answers to one syllable. Yuuri feels confused, but decides not to push him, and pays for their meal before heading back to the hotel by foot. Victor barely touches him, as well, just brushing hands as they walk. Yuuri wants to ask him what’s wrong but even if he did, Victor would never tell him he saw him crying in his sleep the whole night, last night, but none of them talk and focus their attention on the little time they have left together. Neither of them knows when they will be alone like this ever again. 

At their airport, Victor’s mood seems to have improved, and he chits chats on the terminal with Kyoko, Lila, and Yuuri as they all wait for their respective flights. Yuuri and Kyoko’s being the first, they remain on the edge of their seats as they wait to be called to board the plane. When their flight number crosses the room through the intercom, Yuuri almost jumps to his feet, at the same time as Victor, and launches himself into his best friend’s arms. 

“Congratulations again, Yurishka.” He says, hugging him tight. “I am so proud of you.” 

“I know, Victor.” He says, his arms getting impossibly hard as he holds him. “I know.” 

“I’ll see you soon. I’ll see you soon.” Victor almost sounds like praying, if he ever has, voice trembling with an unknown kind of fervor. Yuuri has never heard him like this. “We’ll see each other soon.” 

“Yes Vitya, goodbye.”

They let go and Yuuri says goodbye to Lilia and Yakov too, bowing at both before turning around and walking away with Kyoko by his side. He’s dragging his suitcase and holds on tightly to the straps of his backpack. He takes his seat on the plane silently and Kyoko holds his hand during the whole flight. 

“You’re destined to greatness as much as Nikiforov is.” She tells him when they go back to Japan. “Don’t ever forget it.” 

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Nineteen

It doesn’t really matter how and Yuuri, nineteen and a month after the GPF, is invited to another ballet camp in December, by Lilia which makes every other event in his year insignificant after reading the email he gets with the camp information. 

After being sure with his parents that they can afford it, he makes the executive decision to immediately tell Victor about it. He calls and his best friend answers instantly, making Yuuri melt. He hears that angelic laughter on the other side of the line and Yuuri feels like fainting. 

“I know, I was the one who told Lilia to arrange it.” Yuuri’s about to ask what he means by that when Victor timidly admits. “The camp, I mean.”

Then he’s stumbling over his words, rushing to get them across the ocean through their phone call. 

“There’s going to be another one in the summer andIreallymissyouandIdon’twanttowait but this one is only for skaters!, Unlike the other one that’s a bit more exclusive for ballet dancers alone.” He clears his throat. “You don’t have to worry about anything but the flight to Moscow, Lilia will take you to her house and I will be in charge of your expenses here.”

Yuuri hears all of what he just said perfectly and dares, just for that moment, to say what he really feels like. He has to start to do so. 

“Victor.” He cuts him sharp before he can keep on rambling. “I miss you too, thank you. I can’t wait to see you again.” 

The line goes dead silent for a second. 

Of course, Yuuri doesn’t even imagine Victor smashing his face against the pillows in his bed and muffling a squeal like he is doing, because he’s not a thirteen-year-old schoolgirl with a big fat crush, but he sure as hell acts like one when he’s talking to Yuuri, and instead waits for him to come back to life from whatever place he went to die to for that moment. All unknowingly to Yuuri, who only hears the line shifting.

“I can't wait, too.” His smile warms Yuuri even if he can’t really see it, along with his blush and the churn of his stomach. 

When they hang up, Yuuri feels a warm heat settling in his gut after two hours in the phone with Victor, the night has fully fallen and the rest of the house remains still once his own voice has faded away. Yet, he can’t keep his thoughts away from Victor and his rich, grave tone through the line. It washes over Yuuri’s ears like honey and settles in the base of his chest. Then, he thinks of him in that same bed where he’s lying now after soaking for days in the Onsen. The image of Victor dipping into the hot water plays like a broken record in his head, he can’t get it out and he shakes fully at the thought of his hands tracing the expanse of his muscles.

He can perfectly picture the outline of his torso, the sharp lines of his chest and stomach, the dips of his lower back and the curves that follow them to his legs. Yuuri knows Victor perfectly, he realizes, and the vivid image of the Russian in front of him stirs the heat on the pit of his belly. Yuuri remembers the nights they spent together on that Grand Prix, their skins touching and melting while they slept over the other one as they could afford it. He thinks of their mornings, both of them up before sunrise and stretching half-naked in their room before going for a morning jog together, Yuuri bending everywhere perfectly and Victor doing pushups, squats and crunches with huffs and grunts coming deep from his throat. Yuuri wonders what it’ll be like to hear them on top of Victor.  

He feels like crying. Yuuri thinks he’s horrible, picturing stuff like that with his friend. If Victor knew he would hate him, he’s sure of it, they wouldn’t ever speak again and, god, he would totally make a fool out of himself. He already was, red and sweaty with an uncomfortable hard-on on his pants, breath short and tongue dry. If he ever found out… 

‘Ever’ rings in his head. Yuuri doesn’t have to say anything and Victor will never know anything, then he thinks of him in his bed, curling around him and hugging him tightly in all the right ( wrong ) places and desire clouds his judgment. He blames it on the late night, the horrible afternoon run he had and the assaulting memories of his past. Cussing, Yuuri turns around and sinks his face in his pillow as his hand finds its way to the front of his pants. 

He says he won’t think of victor, but as soon as he starts touching himself there’s an undeniable Russian voice speaking sweet nothings into his ear. He instantly melts. 

☼

Victor picks him up from the St. Petersburg airport. 

Yuuri flushes immediately, interrupting every and any thought that his head decides to provide him about the many, many wet dreams he recently has about his friend and feels a shiver running down his spine. When they hug, Yuuri truly prays that he had not felt his full-bodied tremble. He hates himself instantly, knowing it was his fault alone the fact he kept allowing himself to have all kinds of fantasies and prays to any god up above to let him think straight for a second. He should’ve stopped by now, but Yuuri knows damn well it was physically impossible for him. 

Victor, on the other hand, looks calm and happy as ever and helps Yuuri with his suitcases and pushes them into Lilia’s car. She’s not with them and the chauffeur gives them the funniest of the looks as they get into the back, laughing and chatting about the flight and Russia’s god-horrid weather. It’s cold, it’s too fucking cold and Yuuri is shaking like a leaf. He’s glad he has an excuse to express his anxiety, somehow. Lately, he needs to have a physical outlet for all that bottled energy whenever his mind starts going into overdrive. 

When Victor notices, he just scoots closer to him. 

“You’ll get used to it.” It’s all he says before wrapping his arms around Yuuri’s smaller frame. He’s suddenly filled with warmth but he’s still shaking, even if he’s not that cold anymore.  He knows why, and his body starts betraying him. Yet he ignores it, he won’t pop up a boner just from a hug, he’s not that young anymore, and thanks, Victor. They keep taking and Victor doesn’t let him go, they cuddle closer and Yuuri inhales Victor’s sweet berry smell profoundly. He wonders if he has changed his lotion recently. 

Yuuri leans against him and his cheek rests on the front of his shoulder. They stay quiet and Victor only presses him tighter against himself. When they make it to Lilia’s flat, they don’t let go. Holding each other’s hand, they get inside and greet the ballerina, who looks somehow amused at what she considers an innocent display of friendship. She rolls his eyes, welcoming Yuuri warmly with a tight and uncharacteristic hug. 

“Thank you for letting me stay with you, Lilia-sensei.” 

She just huffs, amused, at Yuuri’s deep bow and eyes Victor, wanting to say something at him but keeping it to herself instead. 

“You have successfully caused a soft spot for you inside me, Katsuki Yuuri. You are welcome in my home as you are in my heart. I hope this camp serves you as a skater and a dancer in your future, I’ve heard you’re going to America to train and it is with my deepest excitement that I congratulate you.” 

Yuuri blushes. 

“Yes, Lilia-sensei. I’m very excited about camp and America, and I can’t thank you enough for your support.” 

“You are one of the few I favor, Yuuri. I think of you like my own dancer. If that Minako would’ve sent you to me…” She reaches out for his face and huffs. “What a dancer I could’ve made out of you. But it’s fine, I can help you be the superb skater you can be.” 

Yuuri bows again. 

“I’m so honored…” 

Lilia rolls her eyes but there's an honest smile in her lips. 

“Can’t believe you haven’t picked up a thing from this boy, Victor.” She jokes. 

Then they’re dismissed, Lilia tells Yuuri she would talk to him about the house rules at dinner, and both kids run to the stairs, up to Yuuri’s bedroom to keep talking. They forget the luggage at the living room and Lilia locks herself in her office, willing to give the boys some time for themselves. They spend hours sitting down on the floor, talking over the faint buzzing of the radio in the background and take a couple of pictures for their recently-opened social media accounts. By now, the press and both of their fans knew perfectly about their strong bond and sincere friendship, and they had no intention of letting them forget about it. 

It’s too late into the night when Yakov appears, like a father picking his little kid up from a playdate, and Victor only leaves because he’s being physically dragged away. 

Ballet camp goes without any issues, Yuuri is great and Victor praises him endlessly, so does Lilia, who seems more than pleased with the japanese boy’s performance on class and training sessions. Yuuri makes a couple of friends more and hangs with them shortly after every class, however, he always leaves in time to meet Victor and returns with him, either to his place or to Lilia’s, once night has fell down. Lunch is shared, always , and sometimes they invite other skaters, but they sit tightly together and avoid the weird looks they get when they feed each other or drink from the same glass. 

They meet Seung-Gil Lee from South Korea and Jean Jacques from Canada, both being the complete opposites of one scheme and Victor introduces Christophe Giacometti, a close friend from European championships. Mila, Victor’s newest team member also joins them every now and then alongside Sara Crispino, seen for once without her brother by her side. All of the skaters find themselves quite amused with the Japanese and the Russian’s friendship and slowly get used to their presence and dynamic without batting an eye like they initially did. Yuuri likes being away from the spotlight and gladly gives it to Jean, or JJ, who seems more than happy to take up the stage. Victor can’t stand  the Canadian but he doesn’t say anything in favor of keeping lunch with Yuuri on perfect peace. Mila instantly warms up to the younger boy and messes up with him just enough to make Yuuri get comfortable around her, then she gets to talk about all the stuff Victor says about him and they both make fun of the older’s embarrassment. 

Yuuri helps Victor stretch after they’re done with all their classes, they rub each other’s feet and Victor makes sure Yuuri doesn’t miss his strength training. Every morning before camp starts, they hit the gym together for an hour and then part ways to attend their different schedules. To no one’s surprise, Yuuri is part of the master class and Victor cheers for him from the intermediate group. Lilia has a couple of private classes with both skaters but she always emphasizes on Yuuri and lets Victor go so he can still practice on the ice rink before the camp’s done for the day. It all works perfectly.  

Two weeks go by and then Victor’s turning twenty, he celebrates with Yuuri and Makkachin at Yakov’s place. They have cake, miraculously, and stay up all night watching horror films because neither of them wants to even think about the Holidays. Yuuri does miss his family and Victor- Victor has never particularly liked them. Even if it was his birthday.

So they lean into each other, like they have been doing it for years now, and quietly jump as they watch the movie. They giggle small and Victor lets his arm fall from Yuuri’s shoulders to his waist, without a word. When Yuuri screams, he only squeezes him hard against his body and laughs to himself, it’s clear who’s the scaredy-cat, and makes sure Yuuri’s okay after it. They have popcorn, buttered, and sometimes it spills from the bowl after a particularly strong scare-jump, but they don’t mind the mess. They’re too busy with the other to even try to pick it up. 

It’s way past midnight when they finish another gore film, Victor’s birthday is gone and he’s standing up to change the DVD when there’s a strong hand pulling him down once more, he stops in his tracks. 

“Victor,” Yuuri calls him, whispering, and he doesn’t even know what he’s doing. 

He looks up to him, tall and perfect with his hair slightly long now that he’s off-season. It’s sticking out everywhere and he bites his lip, pulling the pink flesh. He’s only wearing a pair of white fuzzy socks, pink jogging pants, and black fleece, but to Yuuri, he looks the most handsome he has ever seen him. He has the terrible feeling that he will never meet anyone as beautiful, pretty and perfect, like Victor. He’s everything he has ever dreamed of, and Yuuri really wants to be something else than his best friend. He has thought about it for years and it is only now that he feels he should do something about it, fearing that if he doesn’t, he will never have another chance.  

“Yuurishka?” He looks concerned, really, but Yuuri doesn’t dwell too much on it and launches himself forward, pulling Victor until they meet and collide. He doesn’t know how (he does) but his lips find Victor’s and it’s their first kiss and it’s probably horrible but he can’t really help it so he just presses his mouth against Victor’s and tries his best not to make it awkward by breathing over it or something like that when Victor pulls away. 

“Yuuri.” He says, eyes wide open and mouth trembling. “You-you're my best friend.”

That’s it , Yuuri knows he ruined everything and it’s horrible because he never thought any of this through and it seemed like such a good idea seconds ago but now he’s terrified of what will happen next. Victor must hate him and he ruined their night, it’s awful and Yuuri feels like he’s crying because he is. His breathing is stuck in the base of his throat and oh, oh god, he’s really crying, he opens his mouth but he can’t even breathe. He doesn’t know what to say and then Victor’s smiling so fucking beautiful and then it’s him the one putting his lips over Yuuri’s, cupping his face with both of his hands and sweeping the tip of his tongue over Yuuri’s cupid’s bow, still smiling. 

“You’re my best friend.” He repeats and Yuuri can’t really unpack all of that in that very moment so he just smiles too, not as brightly, and clings to Victor’s shirt as he tries to catch up with him. Victor is on his knees in front of him and Yuuri fels his wet face burning, holding onto him for dear life. They kiss and Victor slides his hands from his face to his shoulders, his waist, his hips. 

Yuuri can feel perfectly his inexperience in the trembling of his hands, no matter how determined they are and Yuuri turns into a puddle. It’s as endearing as it is hot, their kiss becomes heady and hazy, but they don’t let go. They barely breathe and Victor bites down on Yuuri’s tongue slightly, ripping a moan from him and they laugh. He feels enamored and pulls Victor even more into him until he’s practically seated on his lap, knees apart and resisting the urge to grind down on Yuuri. They kiss and kiss until the movie’s credits stop rolling until the TV turns off by itself and both boys are shirtless and panting, lips red like cherries and chaffed from saliva and a few tears.  

When Victor mentions once more he’s his best friend, Yuuri nods and caresses his peach-soft cheek with his knuckles and nods dumbly because yeah, he is. And Victor is his’. 

☼

It goes downhill from there. 

Maybe because they’re both young, still, because they don’t have much time or because they’ve just been waiting far too much for this. They learn about each other’s bodies and kisses and hands roam far much more quickly than they should, but they excuse themselves saying they’ve known each other for quite some time and both indulge on that pathetic excuse to play with their searing-hot touch. They are ridiculous, way too cheesy and everyone teases them at the ballet camp when Victor spends hours watching Yuuri dance every time he can, eyes full of adoration as Yuuri twirls in his slippers. Lilia mocks him, but he doesn’t care, and keeps Yuuri in check as he jumps and twirls and glides around with Victor’s eyes all over him every damn time. They’re reckless, too, but there’s not much to be said about that. Both Yakov and Lilia trust them far too much and they have quite some time alone. So the last week of ballet camp goes in a blur. 

It’s wonderful, perfect, Yuuri can’t even begin to imagine how in the world has he managed to have all of this with Victor. But he only thanks heaven for it and keeps on enjoying it, that much he can do. 

When the Ballet camp ends, Yuuri is absolutely heartbroken. He doesn’t want to leave Victor. 

One night, he is staying over at Victor’s once more, it was Yakov whom surprisingly suggested it and they’re squeezing in Victor’s more than big enough bed with Makkachin dozing in the floor next to them. It’s late, too late and Yuuri could regret this in the morning when he has to drag his ass to the airport but he knows he won’t because Victor’s kissing his face stupid and giggling so hard at Yuuri, who’s so ticklish, and cooing at him like a baby. The other doesn’t even seem to mind about it when his lips crash against his neck for what feels like the millionth time and breathes in deeply the smell of Yuuri in his t-shirt, and only his t-shirt, as a pajama.

“Stop ~” Yuuri chimes. “Yakov might hear us.” 

“Yakov sleeps like he’s dead .” Victor presses his lips against his temple. “He won’t hear us.” 

Yuuri only laughs again, muffling the sound against Victor’s lips before they’re fleeting to his eyelids and his brow bone and his ear shell and his jaw and his chin and  everywhere, Victor’s unstoppable. He’s shirtless and Yuri feels fucking ecstatic, his hands fly all over his body and he kneads Victor’s strong muscles like dough, breathless and trembling while all of his fantasies become true, one at a time.

He’s so happy, so fucking happy and he knows Victor is, too, because he hasn’t stop smiling and maybe he has muffled something about sore cheeks but Yuuri’s Russian isn’t that good so he can’t really tell. 

“I don’t want to leave,” Yuuri admits, kissing Victor’s shoulders and nipping at his collarbones. “Japan’s too far away, America is going to suck. I hate all this distance.” 

“I’ll see you at the four continents, I already spoke Yakov about it, we’re getting a room together.” He answers, going slightly breathless when Yuuri sucks at his Adam’s apple. “I know you’re going to crush it.” He whispers encouragingly, pulling Yuuri to face him. “And then, you have to rip me to pieces at Worlds.” He kisses him to emphasize his words.

Yuuri snorts, yeah right, and nods. 

“Yakov will hate me for dragging you around the world just so see each other.”

Victor shakes his head vehemently. 

“He likes you more than he likes me.” Then he laughs again. “For all that I care, I think he’s just glad I found myself a friend.”

Yuuri just buries his head in Victor’s chest and hugs him harder, it’s almost impossible and totally ashaming but he does it nevertheless. He plants a little kiss over his heart.

“You’re my best friend,” Yuuri states, because it’s true, and thanks to the world for allowing him into Victor’s life like this. 

“And you’re mine, too.” 

☼

As Victor said, Yuuri crushes the Four Continents and snatches his first gold in a major international event. He’s so flustered as he leaps around the rink, flushed from both effort and emotion and anxiety because the rhythm his heart has picked up is not normal but he has Japan’s flag hanging from his shoulders and he’s clutching his medal so hard it’s hurting his palm. The crowd’s wild, it sounds impossible but it is, deafening behind the music blasting from the speakers and Yuuri’s feeling too much as he tries to take it all in. All he can do is smile and cry and keep on smiling, Kyoko-san is still cheering loudly for him just as much as Victor. 

Because Victor is there, screaming his name and he’s a mess.

He looks demolished, faces red and wet with tears and probably spit from laughing too much. He is seated next to Minako and Mari, the three of them behind a huge, pink and embarrassing sign that is definitely from a fansite that they shouldn’t know about. 

When Yuuri hops out of the ice, he’s barely able to take his skates off when Victor’s tackling him in a hug to the ground. 

Yuuri feels like kissing him. Madly .

But they just laugh giddy and excited as Victor lifts him up and screams something about celebrating with drinks because they can, now, thank you very much, and Kyoko-san is only rolling her eyes. 

The press crowds them and they want to talk to Victor, who flips them off saying he’s just there to support a friend and he disappears to leave Yuuri alone. Then he’s interviewed. Yuuri’s answers remain short and precise, trying to ignore the pull in his chest, coming from his heart. 

At the locker rooms, everything feels a little bit awkward. Yuuri doesn’t know if it’s because the word ‘ friend ’  stings just as much as the fact that the press didn’t really care for him or if it’s just that, the press ignoring him. Yet Yuuri hates the awkwardness lingering in the air and breathes deeply as he strips from his costume, throwing in the first pair of sweats he finds and Japan’s Team jacket on. He turns around to face Victor and opens his mouth, it’s just the two of them in there so he guesses it’s safe to just say it. 

“I am your friend.” He says, soothingly and much more calmer than he thought he could. “And I don’t care that the press might follow us this much. You’re- well, you. So it can’t be helped.”

“And you’re you .” Victor snaps at him, sounding pissed off. “You’re Japan’s top skater, who just won his first four continents and will give me a run for my money any day, now. I don’t care if the press is on our asses all the time, we’re both excellent skaters and very good looking athletes- no, don’t look at me like that- but I don’t like them acting like you’re not there. You’re amazing, too. It’s not like I’m still alone.”

There it is, again, Victor’s broken little voice that pains Yuuri because he’s been through so much and he can barely do a thing about it, no matter how hard he tries, and it really hurts him. Victor shouldn’t be speaking like that anymore. 

“No you’re not,” Yuuri reassured him, sitting down by his side, he held his hand. “I’m here, and I’m your best friend.”

Victor nods, looking straight at him and then both of them are reaching towards the other. Victor’s lips land on his and they’re kissing, softly and effortlessly, before they get to speak once more. 

“Yakov told me it’s better if we just keep it friendly in front of the cameras” He breathed against Yuuri’s cheek before he kissed him again for a split second. “I hate it, but he suggested it. You know how fans can be and-”

“Yeah, I know.” ‘ I used to be one of them ’, Yuuri almost says. But he only kisses Victor’s jaw before nudging his neck with his forehead. He hides his face in the crook of his shoulder and clings to him desperately. “It’s fine. We are friends.” 

They just keep saying it like that, like it’s nothing and it doesn’t hurt. But it’s fine, it fits them and they’re both happy about it, about this new and mildly terrifying thing that makes them ridiculously happy but also scared of the world for a second. It’s alright, they know that even if they kiss and hold hands and say embarrassing stuff they’re still best friends who just like to be… close . It’s good, they feel good. 

They don’t care about much else. 

☼

It is frustrating, though. 

It fucks a little bit with their heads because Yuuri knows friends don’t kiss like them, friends don’t… grind against each other in the back of the ice rink at the GPF in Germany after the short program because the both of them are battling for the first place in their categories and they have a lot of steam accumulated inside them and friends definitely don’t sleep together, in the literal, ‘innocent’ sense of the world, after almost tearing their competition on the ice to shreds. Friends don’t… doodle silly little hearts on each other’s passes or coffees, they don’t feed each other and they totally don’t think about three, sappy and shameful words that totally make rounds in their heads because it’s so fucked up, it’s way too soon but they’ve also been best friends for, what, five years? So they feel like it, just maybe. 

Victor ends up in second place, Yuuri misses the podium on two-hundredths and god these Americans are relentless, they laugh at Victor when he limps after failing, miserably, that quad loop landing and Yuuri curses them in Japanese. 

“It’s fine, Yura.” Victor is seething. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” Yuuri is dead worried, sitting beside him as they wait for the first aid team to be done with him so Victor’s staff physician can take over them. “You should’ve left the ice after you fell but you pushed through it and now you’re-”

“I’m what?” Victor barks, ignoring the paramedics beside him and frowns at Yuuri. “I couldn’t leave the ice. I never do that. I had to finish otherwise it would’ve been worse than a fucking sprained ankle, Yuuri. I would never leave a program halfway like that, of course, I had to push it. I don’t ever back down like y-”

He cuts himself off and looks away, at some wall and waits to be lifted in the stretcher the doctors have placed beneath him after coming off from the ice.

Yuuri doesn’t say anything else, biting his lip and fighting his tears. He just steps back, his costume feeling a thousand pounds heavier and looks away when Victor’s taken to the infirmary. He just waits and when he’s gone, Yuuri runs the hell out of the venue. 

He leaves Germany without seeing Victor again after that. Yuuri feels like he should've said it. 

☼

When the season’s over and his family has thanked and repaid Kyoko-san in every way imaginable, Yuuri moves to America after a couple of months in Japan with Celestino. In his time in Hatsetsu, his new coach spends his days talking to Kyoko, his family and even Yuuko. He also asks Yuuri a lot of things and they even talk about Victor, but he doesn’t say much. He doesn’t know what to tell him, or what he wants to hear, so he just focuses on his training and packing what he will take to America. It’s not much, he has some money saved up and there’s a lot he can’t just take with him this time. There are far too many memories in his home and he spends a full night crying into Vicchan’s fur when he’s days away from leaving. Still, no word from Victor. 

He doesn’t have anyone to talk to, not like he wants to, because Victor hasn’t reached out and Yuuko is too busy with college. Minako could do, but Yuuri is kind of ashamed about bugging her so he bottles everything up and flies to Detroit with a very excited Celestino beside him. 

Lilia emails him, once, to congratulate him on this new chapter of his life and talks to him about Victor. She says a lot, Yuuri doesn’t know how to take any of it and keeps his answer short and polite before he goes back to unpacking the rest of his stuff at his College dorm. 

Victor has sprained his ankle, luckily that’s just it and he has to rest for half a year. The season’s over for him but it’s okay, he won’t miss any major tournaments and he will most definitely spend most of his time in bed, resting. Yuuri feels like it’s the first time he has done it in over ten years. 

Yuuri wants to visit him, badly. Victor can’t travel by any means in is state and Yuuri’s starting college in the summer. He will take a couple of supplementary classes before the course starts in September and he has to get a roommate, also his pride is in the way and it restrains him from doing anything majorly stupid like flying to Russia or something dumb like that. He just keeps studying and training, filling his life with everything that’s not Victor even when he’s everywhere around him. It’s a bit hard, but he gets used to it.

That’s when Phichit Chulanont bargains into his life. 

Sunny, warm and bright Phichit arrives smiling like everything’s fine and nothing hurts, he’s one of Celestino’s new students and Yuuri obsesses over his fun, charismatic programs and the exciting sway of his hips as he blasts through the ice with an uncharacteristic kind of power. Yuuri warms up to him immediately and it’s the other way around, too. Phichit fanboys over him for a solid five-minute rant about his four continents presentation and then he whips his phone out to show him a blurry, grainy video of his free skate.

“I was there!” Phichit giggles. “There’s where I met Celestino, too, after three years of sending him my videos and programs with no real response but-” He shrugs. “It was my birthday present! I was so excited to see you when I found out we were going to be roommates I could not believe it!” 

Yuuri blushes, madly, because it kind of reminds him to the first months when he talked to Victor and he whined this loudly, this excitedly and openly, about him while Yuuri remained silent because, really, how could he be saying that when he does so much more on the ice? Yuuri only shakes his head, he can’t keep thinking this much about Victor. They haven’t spoken in weeks.

Of course, Phichit doesn’t know any of that and pierces Yuuri with his eyes for a split second before grinning wickedly and asking like he was reading his mind. 

“Hey, what’s up with you and Nikiforov?” Yuuri freezes and Phichit cackles. “Look I know he’s just another pretty white guy, but he knows his thing and I just wanna know- that’s why I’m asking. What’s gotten into the two of you? You seem… close.”

Yuuri rubs his eyes with the heel of his palms before answering. How much does this kid knows?

“We’re just friends.” He replies. “Best friends .” He has to remind himself. 

Phichit squints, clearly not convinced but he lets it go. For now. Then he resumes his rambling about how much he will miss Thailand and proceeds to continue unpacking. It feels like he has been doing so for, what, three days?

Yuuri looks over to his phone and no, Victor still hasn’t texted him back. 

He groans and flops into his bed, ignoring his course material in favor of sleeping. He guesses that if only for today, he can just be a lovesick teenager and not an athlete with an academic overload. Today, being the key word. 

☼

His first training sessions with Celestino go just fine, both of them still trying to figure out each other patiently enough to let go of little mistakes and misunderstandings. Yuuri’s finishing with his workload of the day when he becomes self-absorbed into the esthetic components of his programs, going over and over again through them with  military precision. Yuuri’s spinning like a madman in the center of the ice rink, his Biellmann has never been wider but he can’t get right the final turn before the jump, so he continues pushing through and tries to swipe his blade over the ice for the millionth time when his ankle decides to give out and send Yuuri to the floor with a loud crack. Yuuri doesn’t even want to know what that was. 

He considers staying there, on the floor, laying in his own sweat before he hears some russian barking that sounds like an insult. Yuuri scrambles from the floor, trying to get up and finds Victor besides Celestino. Both looking equally annoyed. 

“Victor!” He gasps, not really knowing what to say.

“If I could put on a pair of skates I would’ve dragged your ass over here years ago.” It’s his answer. “I’ve been here for twenty minutes and you haven’t stopped doing that- thing! You didn’t even notice me.” 

Yuuri blushes, Victor sounds pissed but if Yuuri knows anything it’s Victor, so he also knows that he’s not truly angry. Not really. He glides over to the barrier where he is, Celestino shoots him a warning look and walks away in Phichit’s direction. He looks both parts amused and terrified, like he can’t believe Victor’s such a dork but at the same time, he can’t believe it’s actually Victor Nikiforov at their rink. 

“Why are you here?” Yuuri breathes out as soon as his eyes land on Victor’s stupidly pretty face. It’s been a while and yes he feels like smothering it in wet, loud and  embarrassing kisses but he can’t do any of that until he fully understands this situation and he sticks to drinking water. 

“Lilia came to America to scout a few dancers. She allowed me to come and visit you. I still can’t skate, nor run, but I can walk. Slowly.” 

Yuuri winces at that and races to the closest entrance, putting on his guards and wobbling to Victor. He takes his hand and makes him sit down on the bleachers behind them. 

“No.” He shakes his head. “Why are you here?” He presses. 

“I miss you.” He admits, looking down to their intertwined hands and brushing the pad of his thumb over the silver of skin between Yuuri’s gloves and his long-sleeved shirt. “And I was an ass to you on the GP, that day.” He looks over to his leg and blushes. 

“It’s fine. You were under a lot of stress. I don’t blame you-”

“But you were being so kind, you always are!” There’s the whining. Yuuri’s heart steadies just a little bit after listening to it, knowing Victor has not changed in the past few months. “You were worried, so sweet and caring, and I snapped at you because I can’t think past myself when it comes to skating and… stuff. I’m sorry, really sorry.” 

“And stuff .” Yuuri's not mocking him, it’s just that he really missed this dork. His dork. 

He looks at him, and Yuuri notices how his hair is hanging from his ears and neck in a very, very short bob. It’s fluffy and light, like he’s trying to grow out his haircut, and it makes him look precious. Victor's face is glowing, he’s sporting a very light beard shadow that shapes his jaw and he’s wearing a black turtleneck beneath a leather jacket over perfectly pressed black slacks, a pair of sunglasses resting on top of his head. There was a time when Victor always looked like some kind of fae, but now he’s a prince, and Yuuri can’t help but notice how much he has grown, in every sense of the word. Victor was only a year older than him, but it seemed like their age gap was bigger, Yuuri still looked like a kid and Victor was a full-grown, insanely attractive, man. He was suddenly self-conscious about his leggings and an oversized tee, the worn training skates, and his dirty gloves. 

He wants to pull his hand away from Victor’s hold, feeling shy, but he doesn’t let him do so. Yuuri looks at him, tentatively, and he finds out how much attention Victoir is giving him then. He bites his lip and breathes deeply, thinking about his next words. 

Yuuri did feel down when Victor snapped at him at the GPF, but he also knows it was the first time he messed up a program, ever, and he really understands. His apology sounds sincere, so he lets go of his fears and doubts in favor of a happy little moment into the clusterfuck his life has turned into. He misses a lot of things, his house and his family, Japan and even Kyoko-san, but most of all he missed Victor. He wasn’t there when he moved out of his house, he wasn’t there at his national exhibition and they both missed several months from each other’s lives- they were apart from the other like they’ve never been and it hurt. Yuuri hurt as much as Victor did and they missed each other terribly, so Yuuri decided to turn his longing into love, the one he has been saving up for this exact moment. 

“I came to apologize, Yura.” Victor kisses his lips when Yuuri scoots closer, uncaring of who sees them and what anyone might think. He doesn’t pull away when he speaks again. “Please forgive me, it wasn’t fair of me to treat you like that. I have thought a lot about that day and I have realized my mistake.  You did not deserve any of that, and I did not mean it. But I promise I will do better from now on… I will watch out after my words.”

“It’s fine, you are forgiven.” He immediately says and Victor releases a long breath against his forehead after Yuuri looks down to their tangled legs. “But I am sorry too, I should’ve talked to you after it. It’s my fault we missed so much time, I apologize for being a proud idiot. I know you didn’t mean it, I overreacted.”

Victor shook his head.

“No, you did not. We needed the time off, either way, not like this, but we needed to take a breath.” Yuuri looks at him confusedly. “I just wanted to give you the chance to think about us, now that you’re here for college… I thought maybe you wouldn’t want me anymore?” 

The way he asks breaks Yuuri’s heart. He almost interrupts him with a definite answer, but Victor doesn’t let him do it just yet.

“And whatever you had to tell me, I had to listen to you in person. Whether it gave me an excuse to visit you or to see you again one last time.” 

Yuuri shook his head and covered Victor’s mouth with his hand. 

“No, stop.” His voice was firm. “How am I going to want anyone else that isn’t you? Nobody’s got a thing on you, Victor. It doesn’t matter where I’m in the world, it’s just you who I want to be with. You didn’t have to cross the world for it, you know I’m your boyfriend. Always.” 

Victor’s eyes widened at that and he blushed, feverishly burning and smiling under Yuuri’s hand, he then feels it caressing his cheek. He holds it there and kissed the open palm of the younger boy. 

“So we’re boyfriends?” He whispers sweetly. “Huh?” 

“Yes, Victor,” Yuuri admits, eyes downcast as he stares into Victor. 

“I don’t want to lose you,” Victor mutters. “I can’t. Of course, I would cross the world for you.”

When Yuuri’s heart stops at that, he doesn’t say anything else.

He doesn’t, either, when the practice’s over and Phichit is giving him a very funny look. Neither does he when he walks out of the ice rink, hand in hand with Victor and his St. Petersburg’s Zenit jersey (the one he was wearing when they met) over his shoulders. 

They don’t have much time together and pretending they could make up for the past months without each other is futile. So instead they focus on their voices, on the things they decide to share and on the stolen kisses. Yuuri talks to him about his new life, about classes, college, and Celestino. Victor tells Yuuri about what he did on his time off and how much he hated physical therapy. They show each other silly pictures they have taken in the past few weeks, Victor plays Yuuri a couple of Makkachin’s videos and talks to him about the books he read while on bedrest. Yuuri told him about his last days in Japan and how much he needed him back then, Victor tells him he missed him like hell while off-season, they both laugh and cry just a little. Things feel perfectly normal, and Victor looks healed. He crashes Yuuri’s dorm one night and Phichit has to pretend he’s not going absolute bonkers by having him over. They go to the movies, have a couple of dates around Detroit and Yuuri has him watch over his training sessions. It only lasts a few days, before Victor has to go back, but they do good. They fall easily into each other all over again.

Yuuri falls asleep the last night on Victor’s hotel bed, curled up against his chest in a pair of sweats too long for him, they curl together tightly in a tangle of limbs and messy hair but they never let go. They kiss, they keep laughing, Victor presses him against the mattress and swallows every single word he could ever say in favor of feeling Yuuri into his body. They sleep late and enjoy that familiar old feeling of having the other one simply resting and breathing at their side. Yuuri realizes he was craving much more than just his boyfriend, but the physical connection and the bodily reassurance of his best friend.  

They were dating, yes, they were boyfriends , also yes. But above anything and everything else, they were best friends. First and foremost, forever. 

Chapter Text

Twenty.

College sucks. Hard. 

When Yuuri’s second semester comes around, everyone gets to know him to some extent, either because he’s that new ‘ cute exchange student ’ and also because he’s that mildly famous athlete whose name finally brings up an instant image when they google it, and he hates it. Teachers ask him way too many questions, personal questions, and people flock him during breaks. He’s not even popular, he’s just the new kid with some cool medals and he hates it. Really, because the peace and calm he had for his first semester evaporates when he comes back from the winter break with a first place at the junior’s GP, suddenly everyone wants to become his friend and he realizes how little time he has to even try to be the popular kid. So he focuses on his grades, on his training, and avoids social interaction. Both Victor and Phichit make endless fun of him because of it.  

Practice is only bearable thanks to his Thai friend, who forced Yuuri to use the word ‘boyfriend’ when talking about Victor, and another student of Celestino’s, Agnes. Who tries to go from acquaintance to friend to something else real quick. 

Agnes’s small, but strong and really fierce. She walks around meekly, looking almost embarrassed of her shadow until you speak to her and she turns into a whole new person. She has great jumps and an incredible rhythm, although her step sequences lack a bit of creativity and that’s how she befriends Yuuri. Sort of falling for the Japanese boy for his kindness and soft words, she begins mimicking his training regime and looks up to Yuuri much more than necessary, but Yuuri never pushes her away. So she sticks around. Agnes also thinks that he and Victor are only friends and constantly invites him on dates. Yuuri, being the horrible person that he is, always has to make something up to avoid such dates and make a fool of himself. Victor scolds him, but never too much, the fact that Yuuri is so respectful and private of their relationship is lovely in his eyes, no matter how poorly he enforces it.

“You are irresistible, Yuuri, that you just don’t get, do you?” Victor chimes and winks at him from the screen. They had a monthly video call on a weekend where they didn’t have to worry about time or assignments or training or anything. Usually, hours went by without any of them noticing, and Yuuri loved to see his boyfriend, regularly shirtless on his request, paying him undivided attention.

“Shut up!” He screeches, covering his face with a pillow and listening to Victor laugh at him when he does so. 

“You are! Can’t help it, can you? You’re just a hot motherfucker who’s too dense to even realize the effect you have on other people.” 

Yuuri is absolutely speechless at that, he rolls his eyes and proceeds to slurp noodles from his instant cup as Victor changes the subject. In the darkness of his friend’s room, Yuuri can see himself on the screen of his laptop, and he sighs. He tries to keep listening to Victor, but he thinks of his words and looks attentively at himself. 

He figures he’s alright, slightly tan and hair smooth and black. He got nice glasses, and he knows he sort of looks better when he has his hair done for competitions. Makeup also suits him, and Yuuri likes to pretend he dresses a bit better than most guys at the faculty. He’s got nice legs, he thinks as he looks down at his thighs and sighs. His face isn’t that striking, though the perfect monolids and warm brown eyes do stand out behind his glasses. Thick eyebrows and thick eyelashes, a straight nose slightly upturned and a pink, small mouth make up most of his face, it's nothing breathtaking but it's not scarce. He has good skin thanks to his water intake, skincare regime taught by Mari over the years and the fact that he washes his pillowcase weekly, some beauty marks but nothing too bad. If he thinks hard enough he can pretend he doesn’t know about the stretch marks on his hips or the softness of his belly. Maybe even ignore the scar on his hand and his ugly feet, battered by skates and ballet slippers over time. He's no Victor Nikiforov, but he isn't that far off either, however, he does favor his boyfriend being the hot one no matter what he says. 

Victor isn’t talking anymore, but he doesn’t notice, he’s completely spaced out and as he thinks of him, Yuuri feels his stomach turn. He can’t consider himself handsome, not by a long shot in comparison, why would anyone want him? More importantly, why would Victor want him? Victor’s perfect, beautiful, he can’t even begin to think of all that Victor is because he knows he wouldn’t be able to stop. And he’s with Yuuri ? What does he even see in him? 

“Yura, don’t go out on me?” He asks- no, he pleads , and Yuuri interrupts his own thoughts. He barely has the opportunity to react when Victor frowns and raises his voice at him. “Whatever your head is telling you, it’s a lie. I can see it in your eyes, you’re seconds away from falling apart  because of something you’re thinking about.” 

Yuuri looks at him, eyes wide and blushes. 

“I was just…” He shakes his head. “I don’t know? Looking at myself? I can’t really see why...” He cuts himself short, not wanting to annoy Victor with his self-deprecating thoughts. Besides, he’s just biased and Agnes probably only wants to date him because she’s studying Japanese at a second language and she might need some practice. There it is, Victor has his rose-colored best friend slash boyfriend glasses on and his fellow skater only needs some extra credits. It all makes sense, and he breathes in deeply. He will not say anything else at Victor. He just smiles. “You’re right, it’s nothing. Thank you, Victor.” 

The Russian beams at him and nods. 

“Anytime, now tell me, how are you doing with Celestino’s new program?!” Yuuri looks at him shine and can’t help but give him a smile. Whatever he is doing that keeps Victor by his side, he will keep doing it, even if he feels like he’s not fit for it, because he needs his best friend at all times, no matter what. 

Yuuri ignores the pain in his head and pushes every negative thought away. He will deal with anything else later when he has the time and energy.

☼

When the new season starts, Yuuri finds himself feeling unmotivated like he has never been. For some reason, he’s dreading competitions, even if they mean seeing Victor and getting to skate on the same ice as him. He doesn’t like to feel this discouraged, but he can’t help it when he notices how unprepared he feels for competition, and the fact he doesn’t feel comfortable talking about it with Celestino floods him with worry. So he talks to Victor when they have time, since he texts him all the time, and calls, too, but when he starts to mention the upcoming tournaments and preliminaries, there’s a hole in Yuuri’s stomach that only grows bigger. He knows Victor is only trying to distract him from his issues by talking about his own, but this time it doesn’t cut it. 

“Lila wants me to do something with the Nutcracker but I’m not very excited about it. Although Yakov suggested a  very cool rock ballad that I love… It makes me think of you, too.” 

Yuuri’s heart stops in full force and he chokes on his spit before coughing, that catches his attention, then he laughs pathetically and exclaims,

“What?” 

Victor chuckles. 

“Listen.” 

It’s the cheesiest thing ever! Yuuri blushes horribly as the song starts and he thinks, ‘this is something that should’ve happened when we were seventeen, not twenty’, and that only makes it better. He goes all soft and delicate, feeling something break within him and he’s smiling stupidly at the ceiling of his room. The song is a total power ballad, romantic as hell and Yuuri totally clutches his chest with his hand. He smiles and laughs, listening carefully to the other side of the line and makes sure to remember the chorus to look up for the song later and listen to it every single day. When it ends, he is totally speechless.

“It will be my short program. I’ll think of you every time I practice to it.” Victor admits after a minute of silence. “When I skate it this season, it will be for you.” 

Nothing Yuuri says will ever top that. Except, maybe perhaps-

“I love you, Victor.” He doesn’t even think about saying it. It just happens. The words are out there and Yuuri clearly hears Victor swallowing an awful, desperate sound. 

“Yura!” He whines. “Not fair! You can’t say that on the phone.” 

Yuuri laughs, loudly, and repeats it.

“I love you Vitya~”

“I hate you!” He groans, sighing. “I wanted to say it first!” 

Victor is straight out crazy but Yuuri does love him. Even when he behaves like a little kid.

“I’ll be watching you closely this season then, Victor.” He comments, voice low and totally not sultry. He didn’t intend it, nope. “See you at the GP.” 

He listens to how Victor swallows air thickly. 

“See you, Yura .” 

College sucks, America is weird and practice can become too much out of the blue. But Yuuri has Victor and his phone calls, his ridiculous texts and the long and sensitive emails to get by. He has him speaking sweet Russian over the speaker and sending him messages with way too much emojis. He’s there, even if he’s thousands of miles away and Yuuri loves him. It makes everything better. Suddenly, he doesn’t feel so worried about competing this year. He has the motivation of Victor promising to skate for him, and that is more than enough. 

☼

Yuuri gets to see Victor at his second GP event, both competing on their categories at the Tropheé de France and both coming with first-place medals hanging from their necks after the first qualifiers. Celestino doesn’t approve of Yuuri’s relationship with Victor as much as Kyoko-san did, but he manages to keep his opinion to himself and allows Yuuri to arrange a double suite as he's accustomed to with Lilia. The Italian coach thinks Yuuri should not get any kind of deep, personal relationships mixed in with his skating, worried about the future when he goes into seniors and finds himself competing against Victor. Yuuri has never thought much of it himself, and he doesn’t really listen to Celestino, too nervous about meeting his boyfriend for the first time since they saw each other in Detroit. 

They get to the hotel first thing in the morning, after a long overnight flight, and check in for their respective rooms. Yuuri notices he has already been checked in with Victor and Yakov and turns around as he starts looking for both russians in the lobby area of the hotel. He hasn’t even been able to scan properly the room when he feels almost tackled to the floor by an unmistakable weight against his side. 

“I love you.” It’s the first thing he hears. “I love you a lot, Yuuri.”

Yuuri shivers and smiles lovingly at the ring of Victor’s voice against his cheek, the one he kisses and laughs sweetly. 

“I love you too.” He says back, like he was whispering a secret, and hugs Victor back in the middle of the lobby. It’s like the world around them has disappeared and they stare into each other. They’re both adults now, but by the way they blush and shy from each other’s eyes, they look like prepubescent kids, smiling dopey among themselves.

 “Yeah but I said it first, so I win.” They split, people around them are eyeing them strangely and they have half the decency to move away from the center of the lobby. 

“That’s not how it works.” Yuuri reaches to take his hand between his, intertwining fingers and pulling the taller man close to him. “But fine, you win. Only because I really like you.” 

Victor visibly melts, legs giving out and making him crumble into Yuuri’s frame pathetically. He whines something and Yuuri laughs loudly. Phichit is behind him, totally taking a thousand pictures of them with his cellphone and Celestino only seems mildly uncomfortable as he acknowledges Yakov with a nod of his head. The Russian trainer, totally used to it by now, returns the gesture and tries to keep talking to some other coaches on the other side of the lobby. Most people by now are used to the skaters’ antics, but it never gets less amusing. For most of them, they’re just very. very good friends, and it’s alright. They are. 

“We’re making a scene, Vitya. We should get going.” Yuuri says absent-mindedly not implying anything else. 

“Let’s go to my room,” Victor mutters like he is implying something, and Yuuri nods dumbly. For some reason, it sounds promising. 

It is more than promising. 

The younger is panting hard against Victor's throat as he feels his dick rubbing harshly against Victor's, into his hand. He's whining, spit running down his chin and eyes rolled back to the inside of his skull as Victor grunts in low russian against his ear. Yuuri's flaring up, he has done a lot with Victor in the past but this is different; he doubts Victor has ever been this crude before, this raw and sexually open. He curses, eyes closed and holds Yuuri's throat with a hand hard enough to constrict his breathing but not enough to leave bruises behind. Yuuri loves it, and he feels like he is going absolutely crazy in adrenaline.

Yuuri’s on top of Victor, arms holding him up and knees buried deep into the mattress of the bed. His boyfriend lies underneath him, red and looking absolutely mad as Yuuri’s droplets of sweat fall into his face. Tongue lolling out and everything, he doesn’t let go of Yuuri and neither does the other. They move in perfect syncronization and moan lowly as they push and pull the other, trying to push themselves over the edge. Victor exhales through his mouth and Yuuri bends over to kiss him, stealing his breath and biting down on his lips.

He shakes, powerfully, and moans Victor's name again and again until he's coming and crying out loud from sensory overload. Yuuri can't think when he bites down on Victor's shoulder and gasps with the lack of air, he pushes himself back up and tries to catch his breath. Victor comes, too, just when Yuuri comes down from his high and he thinks the sight alone of that could make him cum once more. Victor shudders, says something else in Russian and grabs the other man until he slams Yuuri harshly against the mattress, reversing their positions as he kisses him like his life was depending solely on it. Yuuri swallows his pitiful, helpless moan and babbles in Japanese as he feels Victor's hands going down to his thighs and ass. Yuuri thinks he could die like this. 

It takes them a moment to get back on their five senses, sweating and flushed with a little giggle stuck on both of their throats. 

“Okay, wow , that was-” Yuuri rambles and Victor laughs. 

“Amazing.” Victor breathes against his chest and kisses a wet trail up to his lips. Yuuri smiles sweetly and holds him in a tender embrace, strikingly contrasting to what was happening before. 

They remain in silence for a couple of minutes, happy to be together again and enjoying the extra shot of euphoria that runs through their blood systems. It never gets easier to be so much time apart, and both dread the ending of the Grand Prix just because it means absence to both of them. They don’t like to jump into the future without enjoying the present, but after spending time together just like this it feels heavy to know it can’t always be this way. It’s hard, and both know it, and they have known ever since they were just kids. Every second time goes by they remember how much they’ve been through, and think of the way their relationship has overcome distance in a thousand ways, but sometimes they just wished it were a little bit easier to be together more often. 

Yuri stands up and gets a glass of water for them to share, legs quivering as he puts on his boxer briefs and offers the cold glass to Victor. he thanks him and brushes his hand after taking it, drinking from it before Yuuri gets more water and repeats the action a couple of times. He looks over at Victor and sighs, it’s always good to see his face. He puts the glass down on the coffee table, away from where they could knock it down and moves back to the bed slowly. 

“I want to see you on the podium this season, again.” Victor practically demands and Yuuri wistfully nods as he kneels down on the matress like he couldn’t do anything else but to obey him. 

Victor has the tendency to push him constantly when it comes to skating, even when they’re not on the ice or training, he’s devoted to bringing out the best he can from Yuuri. Sometimes little phrases of encouragement or even short words of support do the trick, and fuel Yuuri to keep going on even when he feels like he is through with everything he has in him. 

“Good.” Victor smiles, clinically, and a shiver runs down Yuuri’s backbone. “Now get your ass over here, I’m not done with you.”

Yuuri’s legs give out. 

☼

Yuuri does make it to the podium on the Tropheé de France, and that GPF, both in the first place. Victor celebrates him even more than his own victory, and cheers so loudly for him at the awarding ceremony that Yuuri has to gesture him to shut up with a finger over his lips. The picture of him doing so, with his first place medal and the flag of Japan on his arms, complete with a flower crown and a stuffed Pikachu plushie, makes rounds around the world and they both adore it. But he gets sick shortly after, and so he misses three weeks' worth of training and doesn’t make it to worlds. Victor also struggles on his own, barely making it to the first place at both the Grand Prix and the World Championship, consecutively for the first time since he joined the Senior circuit. Yuuri doesn’t need to see him when they talk over the phone to know that he’s fuming. The fact that he won doesn’t mean he’s not failing, in his eyes. 

It’s unnerving to listen to him this angry . 

“Yakov is on my ass every single day, I can’t get him to listen to me and Lila just started fucking hating me. Everyone at the rink looks down on me like suddenly I’m a nobody, Yura.” He breathes. “I can’t stand it, if I don’t get my scores up I’ll rip my own legs off. People are threatening me, Yuuri.”

Yuuri snorts at that, unable to help himself. 

“Yura!” Victor whines. “It’s not funny!”

Yuuri giggles for a second before speaking.

“No it’s not, but you’re so dramatic, Victor.” He sighs, trying to lighten up his (boy)friend’s mood. “Listen, I know you’re tired but you’re barely adjusting to the senior league. Once all of this is through you’ll be back on your feet. There’s no one as great as you, Victor. You’re just not used to the pressure of being the youngest. It’ll pass and you’ll crush everyone easily, you already are… It took you a while and after your injury, nobody should expect you to be on top shape, but you’re doing great! You’re so amazing Vitya...”

“You think I’m great?” Victor asks, voice suddenly small and tainted with shy curiosity.

It dawns on Yuuri, then, how long have they been friends for and notices he has never openly discussed his admiration for Victor on the ice. Sure, they encourage and compliment each other, but Yuuri has never told him about his level of infatuation. Yuuri breathes in, realizing it’s time.

“Victor, I turned to ice skate because of you. If it wasn’t for you I would’ve ignored Minako and continue to pursue classical dancing.” He admitted. “I’ve been your biggest fan since I was ten, I swear . I had a panic attack the first time I ever saw you in person at that camp where we met. I could not believe I was in front of my idol. Everything I've ever done as a skater is to bring myself just a little closer to you, as a competitor. If I'm on the ice is because of you, more than anyone else.” 

The line is silent like it hasn’t been in years. Yuuri thinks of those nights when they were younger and sometimes they didn’t know what to say, when both ran out of english and speaking became too hard, creating uncomfortable silences that lasted too much before they hurriedly hung up with breathless goodbyes. 

“You what?!” The tone in Victor’s voice is incredulous.

Yuuri giggles, and tells him about it. 

“I had- have , posters of you all over my room back home. I collect your merch and duplicated your costumes for my first national exhibitions. Your first winning short program was the first full program I ever skated to. Why do you think Vicchan is named Vicchan?” Yuuri retorts and turns on his stomach as he speaks. “I saw all of your performances, Minako got them on tape for me whenever I missed them or they were not going to be on t.v. I even skipped a day of school to watch you at Worlds once. My parents grounded me for a week, no skating and took one of my copycat hoodies away from me. They told me they donated it so I would behave.”

“How am I finding out about this just now?!” Victor screeched. “We’ve been best friends for years and you decide to tell me about all this today?!” 

Yuuri stays quiet.

“So what about that winter I spent at your place?!” Victor asked, still unbelievengly. “I slept with you for a week and I never saw anything of what you just told me.”

“I hid it.” Yuuri comments off-handedly. “I didn’t want you to think I was obsessed or… anything. Which I am, but you didn’t have to know any of it back then. You probably think I’m ridiculous.”

“Yuuri, what the fuck ?” He breathes out. 

“Told you!” Yuuri instantly regrets everything he said.

“No, baby , listen-”

Yuuri cuts him sharp.

“Did you just call me baby?” He laughs. 

“Well, you just told me you’re my biggest fan, it’s only fair.”

“...” Yuuri sighs. “Okay…?”

“You should’ve told me. I didn’t- God , I spent hours thinking of what to mail when I could’ve literally sent you everything from my national merch store? Yuuri I have more mugs with my face on them than I’ll ever need. You don’t understand- my best friend, my crush and the biggest fucking inspiration in my life admires me?”

Yuuri is wheezing again.

“Inspiration? Victor, I’m-”

“Japan’s top skater. Your dedication and resilience are unparalleled. If I had half the drive that you do I wouldn’t be butt-hurt about my current career development. I would be winning.” He barks. “You are beautiful and talented and so, so smart. You inspire me in every way too, Yurochka.”

“Well if I had half your talent I would be winning, too.” Yuuri inhales a deep breath, feeling his heart grow heavy. 

Victor makes a sharp spitting noise on the other side of the line and Yuuri bites his lip. 

“I hate it when you treat yourself so poorly. You’re a great skater, you just haven’t found your perfect balance point. I wish Yakov would take you if he couldn’t help you you’d still have Lilia and me.” Victor mutters. “But other than that, you’ve got to be kidding. First place on the GP again ? You have so much more than ‘half’ my talent, Yuuri. Please, stop looking down on you like that… Maybe you should come training in Russia, I’d make you see how good you are! No skater in here has a thing on you.” 

Yuuri rolls his eyes, a big smile on his mouth.

“I wouldn’t allow you to distract yourself from your skating just because I can’t jump for shit.” He jokes.

“Stop that.” Victor says, not quite laughing. “I would do it without even thinking about it. I’d love to train with you, seriously. Sometimes I even wonder how’d I do as a coach.” He admits lowly, almost shy. 

“Perfectly, like everything you do.” 

Now it’s Victor’s time to snort.

“You, of all people know that I-” He mumbles something and chooses to stay quiet for a moment. 

Yuuri waits.

“It's just that I wonder if I could really guide someone to be as successful as I am. I don't want the world to think that my talent makes me selfish. I want to enrich the skating world, and not- hoard every single medal in my way, contrary to what people might think.” His voice breaks. “I don't want to be alone at the top.” 

Yuuri bites his lip, choosing his next words carefully. 

“You don't have to be. The podium has three slots and there are other two for other skaters that match you. It means that you will always have company while you climb your way up.”

Victor’s answer comes almost instantly.

“Join me at seniors next season and let's make it to the top. Both of us.” 

“Hm. Let's do our best, Victor-san .” 

☼

Yuuri becomes aware of his own mortality when Celestino pressures him into getting in the Senior category of artistic ice skating. It sounds far more dramatic than it really is, but he doesn’t like the way he has been struggling recently against much younger talent that breaks through every year that he’s supposed to go into the major leagues. It’s mildly terrifying and it makes him wonder if he really should, after all, he is much older than the minimum average age of the other skaters who switch categories, and maybe he wouldn’t be the youngest debutant, if he’s lucky. But he’s not so sure about it.   

As time goes on and college takes over Yuuri’s life completely, he decides to take a year off of international competitions to focus on his studies. He will keep studying and skating, he can’t forget that’s what got him to study in America in the first place, but he won’t go into the GP or Worlds, much less the four continents. He will travel to Japan for the nationals and a skating exhibit he was invited to, but other than that he figured he should focus on college tournaments and intramurals. He feels confident about his decision, one his coach respects and supports but warns him about how much more extreme training could become. Yuuri yields, and Phichit takes him out to celebrate after midterms. 

When they get to their dorms late into the night, he realizes he has made a good decision, and ignores the little voice in his head telling him it will make him fail in the future in favor of going to sleep. He keeps the news from Victor, at least until he has a press release ready and writes an email to his parents to let them know, the rest would be taken care of by the journalists who will make absolutely sure everyone finds out about what he will be doing in the following year. 

Victor doesn’t take the news quite as well as everyone else, since he had his hopes high on the chance to have Yuuri competing against him in the senior circuit for the first time that year. He’s not disappointed, just a little sad, but nonetheless he understands and makes sure he tells Yuuri he’s going to visit him soon if they’re not going to be seeing each other as often this year, with Yuuri not traveling anywhere for competitions. 

Then, Yuuri realizes he had not thought about it, and his heart breaks. 

Okay, maybe he did not think it through. But what could have he done? He's still all alone, and he only has himself. 

He tries to remain positive about it, but then his head assaults him with endless images of absence and pain and he realizes there’s no way he’s going to make it through a year with seeing Victor only for one time. It’s hard enough as it is, but this makes it worse and then he’s not so sure about his decision anymore. But it’s too late, he cannot back down now. He has made a choice and he’s going to have to deal with it, no matter how much pressure and pain puts him and his boyfriend through. Even if it’s too much, even if it’s almost unbearable. 

☼

It gets harder as every month goes by, with the tournaments rolling around and both Victor and Yuuri too busy to even try to visit the other. Calls become less frequent, emails short and texts monosyllabic. No more video chatting and an incredible hole growing between them both slowly, almost inevitably. One thing leads to another and fights become a thing, screaming becomes a thing, disappearing from each other’s lives for days becomes a thing. Yuuri thinks he’s going crazy, but Victor does really know how to rile him up and Yuuri becomes well known for not knowing when to give up, or give in. 

Yuuri's walking hurriedly through campus to make it on time to training. He busted out of an exam wet-eyed from stress and crippling with anxiety, yet he has to spin on the fucking ice for at least two hours before he can head home. He fears he might've bombed his math evaluation and it's raining cats and dogs in the middle of the day. On top of it, he's fighting with Victor over the phone, speaker on and everything. 

“I'm telling you I can't make it to the Japan Nationals, Yakov won’t let me go. My hands are tied, he will pull me out of the Olympics if I don’t listen to him.” Victor’s voice sounds raw .

“It's not about you being there, it's about the fact that you ignored me completely since my exhibit in Canada. You don't even read my texts, you hang up on me and you spend our one Skype call on the cellphone. I understand if you can’t be there but why the fuck can’t you be a little sweeter to me? Today I needed you hear your voice saying anything but this bullshit, you’re treating me like I’m bothering you and we haven’t even seen each other in almost a fucking year. I don’t want you to run to an airport and come see me, I want you to listen to me for a moment and tell me everything’s going to be alright. I want you to act like you care about me.” 

“It's ten o'clock here, Yuuri.” Victor exhaled.  “If Yakov finds out I'm not in bed-”

“Fuck Yakov.” Yuuri spat, eyes brimming with tears. “You never cared about it before.” 

“That's because l wasn't winning with the seniors before!” His voice turns a notch lower and his accent rips through the syllables. “I can't afford to do thi- fuck, nevermind .” 

“Do what?” Yuuri asks. 

“Nothing, let it go.” 

“Victor, I'm in the middle of a fucking thunderstorm talking to you, putting up with your shit for you to not tell me what the hell you're talking about, even when you’re being an absolute ass ?” 

“Yura, go to the rink. I have to sleep.” 

“Don't boss me around. What can't you afford? This? Our friendship or our relationship? The hell you mean?” 

Victor inhales. 

“I don't mean it. Much less like that. I'll talk to you later so we can sort this out.” 

“You keep. Doing. This !” Yuuri whines. He doesn't whine. “Is it because I didn’t move up to seniors? Is it because I’m not competing this year? You can’t date a loser? You can’t be friends with a bum?” 

“Shut up Yuuri!” Victor snaps. “I can't be nursing a junior who behaves like he's ten years old and train to stay at the top of the podium at the same time. You don't understand because you're not on my level! All you do is complain and cry and run away. Do you want compassion? Ask your family for it, you have one.” 

Yuuri bites his lip down, hard enough to break the skin, and wipes his tears. He doesn't know if he's actually crying or if it's just the rain. Suddenly, he doesn't feel cold at all, even if he’s soaked, even if his heart has just been destroyed.

“I know I'm not on your level.” He says. “I wish I were. Maybe that way we could still be friends. Maybe that way I'd matter to you.” 

So Yuuri hangs up and turns left instead of right where the ice rink is. He chooses to miss practice that day. Either way, his exhibit wouldn’t be even nearly exciting if Victor isn't going to be there. 

Yuuri feels like Victor won't be around much, now. 

☼

So that’s what happens between Yuuri and Victor, neither of them know how to take it and it’s almost as if they cut each other from their lives forever. Not a message, not a sound, not a signal is shared, only Yuuri knows he’s alive because Victor keeps winning, as he’s used to, and makes headlines all over the world. He’s unstoppable, nobody can beat him, Victor’s hoarding every medal and trophy and award thrown his way and his social media goes dry after one single celebration post that follows every one of his wins. Yuuri, on the other side of the world, flunks History and is threatened by Celestino to make it right if he doesn’t want to take him off of the skating team. It’s hard. It’s too hard. 

By the end of the semester, Yuuri pushes through his finals and assignments and manages to reclaim his History score. He’s done, Celestino softens a little bit, and he even wins the college ice skating intramurals. Yuuri thrives in the worst conditions, and he breaks free with a couple of good experiences under his sleeve for the next year at school. It also turns out, his year off is running out, and as much as he feels ready to go back to the international competitive circuit, he can’t help but feel anxious. 

“You are in top shape, Yuuri. This year off did you wonders! I think your jumps have improved a lot and you’re getting better at choreographing for yourself.” Phichit tells him as they watch Yuuri’s training session on their desktop, the one the little Thai recorded for scientific purposes, “It’s not like you retired , everyone will be so excited to see you again!” 

“I’m just concerned that Celestino will push me to go into seniors again, I might be ready to go back to the GPF and Worlds and all of that, but I am still unsure about being face to face with Christophe and Sir. Invincible Nikiforov.” He says bitterly. “I will make a fool of myself in front of them.”

“Ah, come on, Chris is not that bad! He’s just a little bit full of himself.” He doesn’t even bother with Victor. “Plus he likes you! He asked about you in Shanghai this last time I was there, I’m sure he´d be thrilled to be skating against you.” 

“Yeah, I don’t think so. He just likes to mess with Vi-” He cuts himself short. “Whatever, I’ll tell Celestino about it and whatever he decides I’ll try to go with it. Even if he wants to send me into the belly of the beast.”

He shrugs and turns the computer off, Phichit looks over at him and bites his lip. He thinks of something to cheer up his friend, anything, and then beams with excitement. 

“Hey! Are you going tonight to Delta Zeta’s party?”

Yuuri game him a funny look, he wasn't used to attending frat parties, but then again he thinks of that one time last week when that cute guy from History invites him over. He had lost his shit after recovering his average final score and the boy sort of, found it charming? Yuuri had said he would go, nodding and smiling charmingly at him just because he was a pretty boy with a pretty smile and giving him pretty eyes to convince him. How was he supposed to say no? 

Phichit still doesn't let that die. 

He groans and looks over at his friend. 

“I did say I would go.” He mutters and Phichit shrieks loudly. It makes Yuuri laugh and he watches the smaller boy zoom through their dorm in direction to his closet, pulling out all of Yuuri’s clothes to help him pick an outfit. 

“You are going to look so hot!” He screams from where he’s standing. “This is going to be so much fun.”

So he's there, now, in the epitome of American culture stereotypes, sitting on the kitchen counter with this dude from History between his thighs clad in ripped jeans and a red solo cup filled with disgusting beer. Somebody’s blasting R&B through the speakers and there are at least three persons on the floor, passed out, while Yuuri tries to ignore the sleepiness that clouds his head. Tony, he thinks that's the boy’s name, traces circles inside the knee rips his jeans and teases Yuuri about the way his cheeks flare up whenever he says something about him. He praises his grades, his skating and even his style. Phichit will be so proud when he finds out the outfit he chose got him laid. 

Laid. 

Yuuri's brow furrows at the thought and looks past Tony where Agnes is watching him curiously. Phichit is dancing not far away from her and suddenly Yuuri feels like he wants to go. 

“Wanna get out of here?” Tony asks and Yuuri bites his lip. He does want to go but he would rather do it alone. He doesn't know how to phrase that. 

“I'm-” Yuuri's cut by his phone, vibrating beside his right leg with that corny rock song that Victor skated to seasons ago. His heart drops, it’s the first time in months he calls Yuuri. “I'll be back.” He takes the phone and answers the call as he hops down the counter, sliding out of the residence to listen to Victor. 

“Victor?” He answers, walking away from the frat house and sitting down on the grass, the other side of the line sounds hazy. 

“Hey, Yura.” When Victor speaks, something in Yuuri’s heart pulls. He wishes they weren’t estranged, but that’s not how it is. 

“What is going on?” Yuuri can’t help but feel worried. The voice of his best friend sounds weak. 

“Nothing, I’m- Nothing. It’s early over here and I’m very tired.” He huffs. “Couldn’t sleep, I dreamed of you last night.” It sounds like a confession. 

“You should try to get some more rest.” He tells Victor, unsure of how to answer to all of that. "I bet you have a long day ahead, please go to bed."

“I don’t need resting, I need you Yuuri.” His voice wavers, turning small. “I want to apologize, I understand now.” 

"We'll speak when you've rested Victor," Yuuri says, not quite ready to hold that conversation up. "Please take a nap." 

"No, Yuuri- Listen to me." He breathes, and Yuuri has to hold onto himself to not lose it at Victor's tantrum. "I get it, I'm sorry, I get it."

“What? How?” Yuuri spits, not caring whether he sounds rude or mean. He doubts Victor gets anything. 

“I need to hear your voice, it’s so hard without you. I’m sorry, I get it now. I'm always awful to you.” Victor breathes and repeats, “I'm sorry.” 

"What? Couldn't your gold medals comfort you in the night?" He doesn't know why he says that, but at the same time he does. 

"No, they don't. You're right." Victor sighs. "I've been so cruel, and I'm sorry. I regret it Yuuri. I truly do."

Yuuri bites his tongue but he doesn’t hold back his words. 

“Yes, you always are. I’ve never been mean to you but you have.” He looks back at the party and feels a tug of rage in his stomach, it’s not like him to be petty but since the last time they fought Yuuri can’t help but feel like he deserves some compensation. At least from himself. “I don't want to listen to it right now, Victor. I thought you’d get back at me until I was on your level.” 

He is aware of how bitter and dumb he sounds, but the ache inside his chest doesn’t let go. He’s speaking out of a hurt place, and even if he knows he shouldn’t, he can’t figure out a different way to answer. 

“Yuuri-” But he hangs up and returns to the party. He knows that if he listens to him, he was going to yield, and he can’t let Victor win all the time. He’s far too used to it. 

As soon as he steps back into the party, Tony finds Yuuri and pulls him to the dancefloor. Not a song goes by when Agnes invites herself over. Both reach over the Japanese kid and Yuuri lets himself be squeezed. They start dancing, moving at the same time as drinks flow between them. Shots, beers, a questionable joint rolled in a hurry and Yuuri’s starting to get faded. Squished between the other two, he feels his anxiety evaporates as the alcohol and the adrenaline pump through his bloodstream. Yuuri's head is filled with everything but Victor and he sways to the beat of the music. There are hands over his body, roaming through the muscle over and under his shirt and mouths dangerously close to his lips and neck, he doesn’t make way for them but he doesn’t push anyone away either. He takes someone's drink and downs it as he's circled by more and more people. The music changes and when he feels a warm mouth against his jaw, he doesn't know whose it is and pushes it away as Victor's voice flashes inside his head. He’s getting drunk, that much he knows, and flows with the rhythm of the party until he’s barely aware of Phichit pulling him away and hauling him into a car. When he tries to reach for his friend, he doesn't meet resistance and then he blacks out. 

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Twenty-one. 

Back in junior competitions, Yuuri realizes how much has it been since the last time he skated on this level. There are new faces, new programs and even new rules, it takes him a while to get used to it and it almost costs him his qualification to the GP Final. Celestino is not happy about it. Neither is Victor, who avoids him even if they get to skate on the same places for one of the competitions. 

It has been well over a year since their last time together since they last were face to face, and Yuuri can’t help but notice how different Victor is after all this time. He looks different again, physically as well as mentally. Yuuri catches a glimpse of him at the airport, away from him but close enough to notice how skinny he is now that he has lost some of his teen muscle. His hair is slightly different as well, the shortest it has ever been, even with the fringe barely brushing his eyebrows. His face looks more defined, angular, it has lost the youthful fullness it had to it and now it’s pearly clear, absent of any past trace of blush. Victor is walking differently, and his chin is high and proud as his back remains straight and his shoulders square. His energy has shifted, his presence is stronger, Yuuri realizes how powerful he looks now that the last remains of that fairy-like boy have died and now Yuuri is looking right into a full-blown icon. 

When he walks past him, Yuuri feels like there’s a barrier that has been built between them, and he can’t help but wanting to cry over it. Romantically and platonically, Yuuri believes he can’t even call Victor again. And it’s his fault for pushing him away when he tried to reach out. 

But at the same time, he's hurt. Victor hurt him deeply when he decided to absent himself from Yuuri's life and choosing cruelty over kindness when he was needed the most. And once he had realized his mistake, Yuuri was far too deep into his own affliction to listen instead of attacking him. Victor once had said he couldn't nurse a stupid junior, too focused on his gold trophies; but once those trophies couldn't hold him in the night and encourage him with little videos over chat, he turned back to the stupid junior who had been left to his own luck. Yuuri had needed him too, far too many times to pretend he had been alright without him all those days and nights before he called him in a fit. But Yuuri's heart had grown hard, and Victor called in the wrong time to get anything out of his best friend. 

So there's that, whatever it is. 

Yuuri sees him again at Worlds, after avoiding him as much as he could during the Grand Prix. They had separate rooms on separate floors and neither did their coaches or themselves even looked on the other’s way, and it was easier than what anyone would’ve expected to keep each other away. The real problem came in hand with the paparazzi and the news anchors who were more than used to catch joint interviews with both skaters and snap photo shoots of the boys, asked for a statement on their separate ways. Celestino handled the press and Yakov and Lila managed to keep the attention away from Victor by introducing their newest skater, Mila Babicheva. This way neither did him or Yuuri had to stand awkward questions that ultimately would cause more gossip than they could have. Other than that, it was hard to believe how could such a big skating event go away without any sort of interaction from the duo. It went unspoken, but not unnoticed, how different and even dark that year’s tournament was. 

Celestino, on the other hand, kept suggesting Yuuri that he should move to the Senior Circuit but he still doesn’t feel like it just yet, and to be honest he’s not done basking on the feeling of being at the top, enjoying gold medals and consistent royalties to just go back to the bottom of the food chain. He wants to save up some more before he finds himself going broke after losing repeatedly against big names like Cao Bin and Michele Crispino to say the absolute least. Yuuri decides to keep pushing his luck and avoid the senior league until he can’t anymore. But, in the meantime, he would focus on keep winning for himself. Even if Celestino doesn’t really care for gold medals against kids and teenagers. If anything, Yuuri doesn’t care that much since he is not even the oldest one in the league by far. Yuuri knows he can keep his good luck up like this. 

Or some of it, at least. 

When he sees Victor entering the lockers for the Senior division competitions, Yuuri tries his best to escape before the taller can see him. He takes his stuff in a hurry and ignores Celestino as he tries to bolt out of the room, but he doesn’t get very far. He’s not even through the door frame when Victor calls for him, sweetly 

“Yura- Yuuri .” It sounds like he’s correcting himself and Yuuri winces. It’s awful. 

He turns around, silently, and tilts his head to look at him. 

“Stay?” It’s all he asks. 

Yuuri huffs and holds onto his bag strap harder. He just looks to one side and bites the inside of his cheek, unsure of what to say. It hadn’t been this hard to talk to him before and everyone around noticed it. He begins to burn up and sighs. He knows he’d regret saying yes, but he knows he’d regret even more saying no. 

“Sure.” He mutters, sharing and giving Celestino a look that Phichit, behind their coach, recoils. In the eyes of the Thai, it’s almost as if his friend was challenging their trainer.

Nobody says anything as the rest of the skaters flood the lockers and Victor reaches for Yuuri. His touch is hot, warm, familiar and Yuuri wants to drown in it. It only takes that, the grip of his hand on his forearm, to make him feel like he was safe and sound once again. He can’t do anything else but lean into it. Victor seems to notice this and tightens up his fingers around Yuuri’s limb. His voice trembles when he speaks. 

“Go to Yakov, he’s waiting for you.” He mutters behind him, his lips too close to his ear shell and his breath too hot to be coming from someone in the backroom of an ice rink. Yuuri shudders, not really knowing why, and nods as he resumes his way out of the locker room 

“Yuuri, I think you should come with us.” It’s the first thing he hears as soon as he steps out of the lockers. Phichit is there, running after him, face red and lip worried between his teeth. “I don’t think it’s-”

“I’m fine,” Yuuri says, not looking anymore at his friend as he walks over to the hallway that will take him to Victor’s side of the barrier. It’s always the same one and Yuuri knows perfectly how to just get there, he’s been doing so for years.

Nodding at Yakov and sitting down on a bench he sees Yuri, the young, new, little Russian skater, eye him with both parts curiosity and annoyance. He’s about to debut, he remembers, and wonders how much does he know about what’s he getting into. Yuuri has heard he’s good, very good, and he wonders what does Victor thinks about him. Is he as good as he was when he first debuted all those years ago? Or is Victor a space and time singularity that cannot be repeated? The little kid keeps staring at him and Yuuri just hints him the smallest of the smiles, not even a genuine one. Maybe they’d be friends by now if Yuuri hadn’t been so proud. 

As he looks over to the ice he just skated through, Yuuri thinks of Phichit and Celestino. He knows they worry in all honesty, they’re both well-intended, but he can’t bring himself to care, they don’t know him and Victor to make any kind of assumptions or comments on whatever Yuuri chooses to do about them. He just wishes they wouldn't stress too much over him and sighs. He texts Phichit and lets him now he’s going to be okay, and thanks him for being such a good friend. That much he can do. 

It had been two years since the last time Yuuri was at the Ice Skating World Cup, and he knows things have been tough for him ever since. With his relationship with Victor starting to crumble like pastries and the imminent change of league, Yuuri realizes he has never been pressured like this. It makes him wonder, if it’s going to be this hard from now on, and it pains him. There were much simpler times, easier days, and less hurtful things to worry about. It scares him to even think about it, if things will turn so dark from now on, he just wishes for strength to go through.

Yuuri wished for Victor, who used to be his spirit, even if he knows he can’t have him anymore. 

Not after what they have done, at least. 

As much as he couldn’t stand being apart from him this long, Yuuri knew it was for the best to let him go. He knew it was horrible, just to think of it, but since neither of them spoke or tried to mend things it was no use on pretending anymore. They had a good run, but t was time to cut it short. Victor was growing too much too fast and out of reach for Yuuri, he would never be able to catch up to him. No matter how much Yuuri craves Victor like he has been starving all this time, he has to part ways with him. He can’t keep dragging him down and Victor can’t keep hurting him anymore. They’re different, they’ve always been, but now those differences are almost irreconcilable. 

Victor has outgrown him, and Yuuri is too far away now. 

When he appears last on the ice, dressed to perfection and face colder than the ice he was about to rip, Yuuri takes all of him in and acknowledges what a blessing it had been to see him grow from that fawn-eyed long-haired baby to this one king, right there by his side. He wonders what it must feel like, to be Victor Nikiforov and to stand on the ice while knowing how much power, how much talent and magic one has. It must be addictive. 

It must be why he chose that feeling over anything Yuuri ever made him feel. 

The music starts playing and the crowd goes silent. Victor starts sharply gliding and he’s flying, he looks possessed and he jumps higher than ever. This year he’s presenting a new kind of program, something nobody has truly ever done before, and Yuuri can see right through his movements and step sequences to find out it was all Lilia and little to no Yakov. It’s almost funny to see so many classical dancing elements in his choreography, just by remembering how much Victor doesn't like ballet. But by the way he’s skating, from the movement of his body and the expression of his face, nobody would really ever be able to tell. Like everything Victor ever did, he executed his free skate to perfection. 

He runs over the ice, turns and twirls on top of his blades and when he jumps he flies and dances in the air. All he does is beautiful and lethal, his program enhancing his two strongest attributes and delivering them to every single note of his killer choreography. Lilia has outdone herself and Victor can only live up to her expectations. Even if they were almost unrealistic. 

When Victor finishes, the crowd is absolutely wild. This year, Victor has taken a much more traditional, if not ‘national’, angle for his skate and performed over classical russian music with a gorgeous, elaborate outfit that flows over his body and showcases his chest, offering glimpses of his toned abdomen with every jump and turn. His skin is gleaming with sweat and glitter, his hair is dusted with specks of gold and his eyes shine bright and hungry when he looks at Yuuri after crashing against the barrier once he finished thanking the public and the judges. 

Yuuri looks at him almost painfully, he knows Victor’s fine but this specific program was too hard for anyone who didn’t have an abnormal level of resistance. Yuuri thinks that even himself, with his stamina, wouldn’t be able to push through the whole thing easily. So he just, sort of, hopes he’s okay. He can tell Victor is physically strained, exhausted, and Yuuri can see it in his eyes when Yakov pats his face dry from sweat, but suddenly he wonders if that look has even something to do with skating, at all 

“You did well, Vitya.” He hears Yakov say, proud like a father as he wipes his face with a cold towel. Even he was aware of the level of difficulty of that program, and worries for his skater as Victor tries to ease his breathing. He’s still on the side of the ice and he seems like he won’t be moving in a while, he just stays there and looks over at Yuuri, breathless and broken, with pleading eyes. Yakov lets him pinned against the barrier and turns to Yuuri. 

“Katsuki, can you hand me the-”

“ Yuuri.. .” Yakov turns around to see Victor, pale as a ghost, trying to reach out for the younger skater before his eyes roll to the inside of his head and he exhales heavily before his face crashes against the edge of the barrier. 

Yuuri yelps and races to him just before the Russian med staff tries to get him. Yuuri steps into the ice with one feet, not even thinking about it,  sneakers squeaking against the cold surface and heart pumping nothing but adrenaline through him when he pulls Victor to the exit. He doesn’t know how he does it, his foot never slips on the ice and his arms suddenly seem able to carry Victor’s heavy and limbless body into his lap. He falls on his ass and cradles Victor’s bloody face as he wipes the blood from his nose with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. He looks down on him and finds nothing but a busted nose, a pierced lip and a whole lot of blood gushing out from his nasal cavity. 

“Victor, c’mon.” There’s Russian screaming around him but, god knows how he blocks it out and keeps talking to him. Yakov barely keeps the press at bay and Yuuri barks at some cameraman that tries to take a shot of Victor. His nose still runs red and his lips, parted with a slight breath, are painted crimson when Yuuri turns to him once more. “For fuck’s sake, Victor, please wake up. Victor.” 

The first aid team is there, the Russian doctors crowd him and yell at him, but he can’t let go. He doesn’t feel Victor breathing and Yuuri holds on to him for dear life. 

“Someone cut his shirt he can’t breathe!” Yuuri finds himself screaming. 

Somebody rips Victor’s costume in half and then hands him a bag of frozen gel and guides his hand to press it against Victor’s forehead while a nurse pinches the bridge of his nose to stop the blood from leaking. Yuuri wipes some of it from Victor’s face with a wet towel that finds its way to his hands and mumbles something in Japanese. Yuuri looks for Yakov and finds him looking at both men worriedly, pushing Yuri Plisetsky away before he turns to the skaters again. Yuuri shakes his head and looks down at Victor. 

“C’mon Vitya. You need to wake up, please wake up.”

“He passed out from fatigue and stress.” He hears a nurse say before him, then pinches his eyelid open and lights a little light straight into his eyeball. “His pressure levels are through the roof, but his reflexes are fine. We’ll stop the bleeding soon. He’s going to be alright but we just need him to wake up.”

"Got it," He says before brushing his knuckles over his jaw, whispering in Japanese as his last resort to bring him back into consciousness. 

When he does, he swallows air like he's brought back from the dead, and clings to Yuuri desperately as soon as he does so.

“Alright everybody, he’s awake. Let’s move!”

Yuuri stops listening to the doctors and pulls Victor closer to his body. He helps the nurses strip him of his shirt completely and wraps Victor around with a blanket. When he realizes it’s Yuuri who’s holding him, he smiles. Victor tries to touch his lips immediately, but Yuuri ushers his hand away and presses a ball of cotton gauze to it to prevent him from getting even dirtier.

“Hey.” He smiles at Yuuri, who only rolls his eyes and contains his need for smacking him or something, His worry does not subside. Victor tries to seat up but Yuuri presses one hand, the one that's bloody, to his uncovered chest. 

“Stay down. You're bleeding.” 

“What happened?” He asks confusedly when somebody lowers a stretcher beside them. He looks at it confusedly, and then back at Yuuri. 

“You passed out after your skate. Your legs gave out and you smashed your face against the edge of the barrier. You might've broken your nose.” Yuuri whispers. 

“Fuck, not my nose-” 

Yuuri giggles, helplessly, and pushes his tears back to his eyes, he hadn’t even realized he had been crying. 

“God you're so dumb.” 

Victor is taken away on the stretcher, not without letting Yuuri know which is his hotel room and begging him to be there for the night. Yuuri finds himself unable to say no and nods just to let Victor go in peace. He kisses Yuuri’s cheek and thanks him for taking care of him, making him shiver. 

When Victor disappears backstage, his final scores come through in the giant screen at the ceiling of the rink. He has won, and he has set a new world record for 311.75, total score. 

☼

Yuuri spends the night with Victor after he’s back from the hospital. Luckily, the Russian didn’t break his nose, he just busted a vein that caused all that bleeding and by the time they got to ER, it was mostly coagulated. His lip was also alright, as his head, and they sedated him for the rest of the evening so his body had some time and peace to rest and regenerate comfortably. He was totally doped up, and Yuuri spent most of their night together lulling him softly after he came from the podium with his gold medal. He had Victor’s in his hand, too, as he had missed the ceremony, and dropped both of them together on the desk by the bed. Victor seemed high when he got to the room and even if they didn’t speak, Yuuri felt his longing subdue after having him in his arms in silence for the night. 

It’s five in the morning when Victor comes back to reality, looking nothing short of lost and wakes Yuuri up just to make sure it was him and not other one of his dreams. 

“Let’s just go to sleep Victor, we’ll talk in the morning.”

Victor gave him a look and bit his lip. He shook his head and dived right into Yuuri, hiding his face in his chest and hugging him tightly. 

“I can’t do this without you.” He says, and his confession sounds small coming from him.  

Whatever it is that Victor means, for some reason Yuuri wholeheartedly understands him, because even if they’re not going through the same things, even if they’re not the same kind of person, Yuuri knows everything would be far much easier with Victor always by his side. This year was proof for that, being the first one they spend apart for so long and also the first one they both struggle this much. If things were any different, if they were just a little bit better, maybe Yuuri would finally be on the Senior division and maybe Victor wouldn’t have fainted after skating what should be a pretty regular routine for him. Maybe that way Yuuri wouldn’t feel so sad, so empty and maybe that way Victor wouldn’t be so stressed, so worried, so fragile. They have become dependent of the other, and they can’t afford that much. 

“You have to.” Is all Yuuri says, trying not to give in to the inviting hug Victor offers him. 

“Then at least let me have this.” His voice is no louder than a whisper. “Be kind to me, I’m ill.” 

Yuuri giggles, helpless, and rolls his eyes. 

“A bleeding nose is not being ill, Victor-san. ” But he allows himself to be melt into the hug, embracing Victor as tight as his arms allow him, and he kisses his shoulder. “You have to start taking better care of yourself, especially if I’m not around.” 

He knows he’s saying goodbye, at least for now, and Victor seems to understand this too. Otherwise he wouldn’t be so silent, so incredibly pained that he can’t even speak, can’t even let himself breathe properly. Victor only nods and chases Yuuri’s lips, wanting to kiss him more than he ever has. 

There was a time where Yuuri couldn’t even picture himself being in the same room as Victor, much less befriend him. But he was so past that, now it was weird to not be around him and any room without Victor seemed ridiculously empty. Yuuri had never grown used to it, but it was obvious who he was expecting to have by his side on every step he gave on his way. Now Yuuri used to be best friends with Victor Nikiforov, his idol, and there was a time not so long ago when they were even a couple, where they had had something much more stronger than any other kind of relationship there could ever be between two people. And even if all that was long dead, Yuuri was thankful for it because it had been the best part of his life, ever. He was so happy to have lived all of that with Victor that it only seemed fitting to let go from all of it just like this, because if there was a time where Yuuri couldn’t see himself anywhere around Victor, he now had the feeling that he would have to make himself stay away from him. 

Victor circles Yuuri by his waist and helps him to take off his clothes, stripping him of everything until Yuuri was fully naked on top of him. Then he sheds his shirt and pants, his briefs and undershirt, never allowing himself to stop kissing Yuuri as he did so. The room was chilly and the AC was on, but every single little goosebump that appeared on their skins had nothing to do with the cold, and they welcomed the shivering sensation of the other one with a smile. It had been too long since the last time they were together at all, but it had been even much more time since they ever found themselves just like this, giving all they had in kisses and touches that flared up from the insides of their bellies. 

“Stay until breakfast,” Victor whispers. 

“I don’t know.” Yuuri replies, his hands cradle the other’s face and brushes his lips over his temple and cheekbone. “I’m not sure.” 

Victor exhales and chuckles almost bitterly. 

“I’ll make you sure about it.” His answer comes humorless, but Yuuri can’t help but laugh. Where he was so insecure, Victor was overconfident, making them fit like perfect puzzle pieces in so many ways than just one. 

With every little kiss Yuuri plants on his skin, Victor comes alive with color from the blood rushing through his veins. Little pink flowers bloom on his shoulders and collarbones until they blossom into full-blown crimson bouquets of flush and love. Yuuri steps back for a moment and contemplates the way his torso contrasts with the paleness of his face. Even if they had cleaned it up at the hospital, Yuuri noticed the way it looked sick and lifeless. His nose was purple and so were his eye sockets, deep under-eye bags swollen and lips blistering red from the hit they took, tasting metallic from the blood dried over them. His porcelain skin was so pale and white that every other color contrasted in a striking manner, as the empty canvas of the masterpiece he was. 

Yuuri’s now grinding down on Victor's thighs and he breathes heavily against his chest, he’s bent over his torso and Victor's hips buck erratically against Yuuri's center. Yuuri pecks Victor’s chest, right over his heart, and flicks his tongue over his nipple. The moan Victor releases it’s so much more than just hot, it makes Yuuri feral. They're both panting, breathless and whiny with their skins sticking to the other. The light is on at the hotel room and Victor can see the beads of sweat falling from Yuuri as silver droplets mixing with his own. He is positive, absolutely certain, that Yuuri might be an angel, there’s no other explanation for him to look that precious otherwise. 

His fingers lace with Yuuri’s air ruthlessly, pulling the black strands, needy, as they keep moving against the other over and over. Victor's grunting, moaning breathily in Russian a lot of stuff Yuuri can't figure out and has him wanting to hear more of it. He forgets about time, place and instead he only focuses on the hot feeling of Victor against his own body. The soft glide of flesh, the warmth of his love and the loud beating of his heart. Every time Victor exhales against his ear, Yuuri thinks of an orchestra playing just for him. He whines and pleas for more when Victor's hands grab a couple of handfuls of his ass and pulls the muscle like dough, kneading the supple flesh and causing Yuuri to mewl urgently. He moans, rutting harder against Victor and running out of breath as he mumbles and stumbles over his words in Japanese, making a mess of phrases and sentences until he isn’t even sure he’s speaking anymore. 

“Vitya, more.” He asks, barely remembering his English, and Victor delivers. 

They can’t think of tomorrow, they are unable to picture a world outside that hotel room and the plane tickets they have waiting for them along with their passports. They don’t even care about none of it right now, far too obsessed over the other and floating away in the haze of their lovemaking. Yuuri keeps biting on Victor's abused nipples and rocks particularly slow against his dick, as his hands find their way to the head of it and he presses down with his palm right over the slit. 

“Fucking hell .” Victor moans. “Yuuri…” 

He doesn’t give Victor any kind of peace, he lowers himself until his own cock is resting right on his thigh and rocks back and forth, grasping Victor and twisting his wrist to the pace of his movements. When they kiss it’s too sloppy, too wet, a little too much, but they can’t stop. They don’t want to stop even when they feel their orgasms building up and up as they get sky-high. Yuuri’s breath becomes erratic, he pants and Victor licks his neck as they roll their bodies in the pursuit of their release. 

It takes more than a while, with Yuuri dragging time with the rhythm of his hips until he makes the older cum on right into his hand. Yuuri follows him shortly after, hips stuttering and cum covering Victor in a thick white layer that barely stands out against his fair complexion. Yuuri shakes violently, vision going white and face flushed until he’s done, a moan ripping through his throat as Victor kisses his shoulders and hugs him by the waist. 

“Victor.” He moans, lost in the aftershock of his orgasm. “Vitya~” 

Suddenly Victor's seating up again, arms never letting go and lips brushing the bridge of his nose where his glasses are absent. 

“Come back to me.” He says immediately, ripping Yuuri away from his lust-ridden dream. He sighs and feels his heart clench, it was far too good to be true. 

He looks at Victor and he sees the most vivid image of his teenage years staring back at him. The beautiful eyes, the perfect face, that silver hair shining like a halo straight out of heaven… and he feels like he could cry. Victor was, and would always be, the best part of his life. Of skating and of growing up, he would always be his favorite  everything. But he has to let him go, he knows that as they grow up they would become more and more distant, more different, more devoted to skating. Soon they will both reach a point where they won’t be able to keep their relationship up. No matter which kind they decided to go after. It was settled by then, he had to go before Victor made him stay. For the best of both, Yuuri knew it was right to do so. 

“This was a mistake.” He mutters once he looks down on Victor. “This isn't fine, we’ve got to stop this.” 

Victor, arms still circling his midriff, keeps on looking at Yuuri like he’s begging for something. 

He’s looking up to him, eyes wide and open with adoration and  silent begging, while Yuuri slides his hands off of his body. Suddenly, no matter how close they are, they feel like miles apart. This might as well be the most distance there has ever been between them. 

“Yuuri-” Victor starts. 

“This is for the best, you know we were bound to part ways, it was only a matter of time.” Yuuri’s voice breaks with a sob. “Truth is we shouldn’t have made it this far, and now that we keep fighting and we’re struggling so much even to see each other at least once a year…we can’t keep this up. We have to let go, we’re just stopping each other from everything ahead of us. We’re not kids anymore, Victor. We don’t need each other that much.”

“You will always be my boyfriend.” Victor whispers. His voice is small and there are tears running down his face. It’s the first time Yuuri sees him cry like this. “But more than that, you will always be my best friend. You are my only friend. Can’t we be friends still, at least?” 

Yuuri shakes his head, he knows he’s crying too. At least on the inside. He’s not touching Victor at all anymore, but he stays kneeling down on the bed as he speaks. 

“You think we can stay as friends after all this shit?” His voice is bitter. “We fucked things up, I fucked things up. I don’t know how to be your friend and neither do you.” 

“How do you know?” 

Yuuri looks at him and deadpans. 

“Look at us, the first time we’re alone in months and we can’t keep our hands to ourselves like we’re still teenagers.” Yuuri speaks like he hates himself. “There’s no going back to being ‘friends’.” 

“So what am I supposed to do now?” Victor crosses his arms over his chest, and Yuuri doesn’t know if he’s suddenly trying to cover himself up or just protecting himself from Yuuri’s words. 

“You have a career, the best and brightest that has ever been on ice skating. I’m studying, our focuses are different, we’re concentrated on other stuff, we don’t share anything off of the ice anymore. You have to understand that–.” 

“When you move to seniors it’s all going to be alright again, why can’t–.” 

“Fuck seniors!” Yuuri’s lips tremble when he barks. “What will we have then? Tournaments and that’s it? We’re to busy to even pick up the goddamn phone and make a single  call. How’s it going to be, really?” 

“If we tried-” Victor gritted his teeth. 

“Even so, there will be a day I won’t qualify, it has happened, and there goes another year by. I don’t have money to travel for leisure and you’re far to busy for it.” He pushes the words out of his throat, like he doesn’t want to say them even if he knows they’re all true. “And it’s not fine, no matter how much we pretend it is…” 

“I can stand it.” Victor mutters. “I can do it.” 

“But I can’t.” Yuuri whispers. “You have your medals and championships, Yakov and Lilia. I don’t have any of that, my family is on the other side of the world and to keep skating I have to be a perfect student. You have no idea how hard it is. You only have to worry about yourself and that’s it. I’m balancing money, training, grades, work, I don’t even have time for myself.” 

“Don’t do this.” Victor covers his mouth with one of his hands, he says something in Russian before speaking again. His voice is strained, muffled not only because of his palm blocking his words. “We can fix this. If you need anything from me just ask. Money I’ve got to burn, what else is weighing you down? I’ll take it off of your shoulders, please allow me to. Yuuri, I can’t let you do this.” 

“You don’t understand.” He says as a fact and a realization. Both make him want to weep. “I think it would be best to focus on our careers alone, Victor. You should’ve been asleep for hours instead of fucking with me. We clearly need to sort out our priorities, or it’ll cost you more than a bleeding nose.”

“Is it because of what I said that day on the phone?” Victor closes his eyes. “When I said you weren’t on my level? Is that it? Huh?” 

‘Yes.’ Yuuri would like to say, but he keeps that answer to himself because he knows it's not just about that. 

“Forget it.” 

“I don’t mean any of that. I don’t think that way. I was just tired and stressed, it’s not you. Of course, It’s not true. You’re far better than I am at simply everything Yuuri. Please forgive me, I am begging you, forgive me.” 

Yuuri slowly starts to leave the bed, moving quietly, inch by inch, as he speaks. 

“You were right, Victor. I can’t keep dragging you down. I can’t pin you here when you’re meant to be somewhere else. I cannot distract you, and you can’t distract me either.” 

Victor’s mouth gapes, like he’s trying to say something but he can’t. He doesn’t know how to push his words out and Yuuri’s almost gone. 

“We need time, and distance. More of it. Without each other in our absences. Please understand, Victor.” He puts on his sweats, his shirt, and takes his glasses. Standing on the floor and trying not to look at Victor as he breaks apart, Yuuri does his best to remain whole. He has never done anything so cruel. “We’re only hurting each other. This has to stop, until we get our shit together and we’ve worked through our obligations. You will always be my best friend, you’ll always have me. But I hope you don’t need me.”

He takes the rest of his stuff from the floor and puts his shoes on hurriedly. Still not looking at Victor, he hopes he has made his point clear. He has run out of words, he doesn’t know what else to say anymore, he just hopes one day Victor will understand. 

So he misses Victor’s broken, lost expression. He doesn’t realize he’s stopped crying in favor of processing every single word coming from the other man’s lips. His hands grip his own thighs and his lithe fingers dig into the skin, biting down hard on it with white knuckles and reddened crescent moons where his nails press down viciously. His eyes are still wide open, his hair falls over his face and his breathing seems to have stopped. 

Yuuri doesn’t get to know how abandonment looks like, for he turns around and leaves. He never looks back.