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When I open my eyes, it’s night time. Ughh…I must have slept for longer than I thought. I roll over and see that Victor’s gone. How is he dealing with this jet lag? I grab my phone and open Instagram, still too groggy from my too-long nap to do anything else.
The first picture loads quickly. Oh, Victor’s at the pool with Chris. My chest constricts, surprising me. Am I…jealous? I keep scrolling. Yurio, Otabek, Phichit—Phichit!
I flop back on the pillows and groan. I slept through my plans with Phichit! How?? At least he made it to the Sagrada Familia without me—I hope he wasn’t too disappointed. Classic Yuuri, no followthrough.
Flashes of last year’s disaster flash through my mind. Falling to the ice on my first jump. My uncooperative body turning quads into doubles. My cheeks so hot with shame I’m amazed I didn’t melt the ice.
Yurio, Phichit, JJ…they’re so cool under pressure. I’ve never seen them have that kind of meltdown. I flop over and grab the pillow, pressing it into my face.
Victor would never have that kind of meltdown.
The calm, cool face of my coach floats up in my mind’s eye. Always the showman, that twinkle in his eye, making the crowd fall in love with him over and over again. So far from the trembling mess I was on the ice this time last year. My hands grip the pillow tighter.
Victor.
Help me.
As if by magic, the door bursts open at that very moment, revealing a dripping wet Victor Nikiforov and—Christophe Giacometti.
“Yuuriiii, I’m freezing! Can you run a hot bath?”
“Could you put some coffee on too?”
“Were you still asleep?”
I bolt upright in time for two very cold, very wet adult male figure skaters to dog pile on top of me.
“Get off me!! You guys are freezing!”
Victor nestles in to me and shakes his head, scattering icy drops of water across my face. Chris is pressed to my other side, equally stubborn.
My body tenses, the aftershocks of my anxiety returning. After a beat, Victor stirs and mumurs, “So Chris…about that coffee…”
A strange look crosses Chris’s face for a moment before he slides off me and stands back up. “Right…so…the kitchen. Through here?” He gives me a look I can’t quite figure out. Curiosity? Jealousy? Pity? I nod, and he slips through the open doorway to the kitchenette of our suite. Victor had insisted we share a room—and, him being Victor Nikiforov, had to book us the nicest room possible.
With Chris gone, I’m suddenly aware of every inch of Victor’s wet, exposed torso. He snakes his arm around me, nestling in closer to my chest. Without thinking, I wrap my arms around him, hands resting on his bare back. Almost instantaneously, I realize what I’ve done and stop breathing for a second.
“Yuuri…” he murmurs. My heart flips in my chest. Can he sense that I’m freaking out? Am I making this weird? Is he…
“I don’t know how to protect you from this.”
That was…not what I was expecting. “From what?”
“From whatever’s happening in your head right now.”
I let out a long breath. Of course he can tell something’s off; he spends more time with me than anyone.
We allow the silence to stretch out between us, and I feel him soaking into my shirt. I shiver.
I can tell he’s waiting for me, so finally I speak.
“It’s always been like this.” No sense trying to hide anything—he’ll get it out of me eventually. “It doesn’t even have to be important things, my mind will just catch on something and I’ll…spiral. Like first it’s ‘oh, I missed a date with Phichit, how could I be so lazy sleeping so long?’ And then it turns into ‘Why do I even think I can keep up with these skaters when my record is so inconsistent, do I even belong here, do I even deserve you as a—-“
“A date?” Victor lifts his head and raises his eyebrows.
“A—I don’t know! Meetup? Hangout? Friendly outing?” Why is that the thing he fixates on, out of everything I just said?
He smiles. “Careful, Yuuri. You don’t want to see me jealous.”
My eyes widen and I look up at the ceiling to hide my surprise. Victor…jealous? Where is this coming from?
He lays his head back on my chest, and I close my eyes. He’s the one to break the silence this time.
“Your anxiety doesn’t define you as a skater anymore, Yuuri.” His voice is a purr against my soaked shirt. “It’s love, now. That’s what I see when you’re on the ice. Your love for skating, and your love for me.”
I’m suddenly hot, despite the ice-cold skater on my chest. My love for…him??
He puts his hand on my chest and raises himself up so he’s looking in my eyes. “Don’t look so surprised, you’ll hurt my feelings.” His eyes dip down to my lips almost imperceptibly. It’s getting hard to breathe. Every nerve in my body is on fire.
A clattering sound comes from the kitchen. Right—Chris. I try to pull away but Victor is on top of me, studying me as if I’m a particularly difficult, beautiful step sequence.
Chris enters the room balancing three steaming mugs of coffee.
“I’ll uh…take mine to go.” His tone is cautious and suggestive.
“Thank you Chris,” Victor says, twisting upright to claim two of the mugs.
The door shuts behind Chris, and I shiver again, water evaporating from my thin shirt now that Victor is no longer pressed against me.
“Caffeine probably isn’t the best idea for you right now, given your anxiety,” he says, “but hold this—you look so cold.” I take the mug and look into his icy blue eyes. He pauses. “Well, I’m going to get out of this wet suit and take a nice warm shower.”
I force my eyes not to linger on his shining torso as he rises, his muscles still defined even after an off season of pork cutlet bowls. I have to look at the ceiling as he walks away because his…butt…in a speedo…is just too much to take.
I hear the shower turn on and look down into my coffee mug. What is happening? I expect the anxiety to slam back into me, but my mind keeps returning to those blue eyes boring into mine. My love for skating. My love for Victor. I know he’s right. How can he read me so well?
I change out of my wet clothes and hunt for a dry patch on my bed to curl up on as Victor comes back out in a towel.
“Whoops…did I do that?” he says, eyeing my soaked sheets.
“Uh, you and Chris I guess.”
“Just sleep with me then!” He pulls the sheets back on his bed. “You aren’t still afraid of me after all this time, are you?”
I wince, remembering how skittish I’d been around him when he first came to Hasetsu. I’m certainly more comfortable around him now.
Because you’re in love with him.
I cautiously slip under the sheets of his bed as he steps into his sleeping pants. He flicks off the overhead light and crawls in with me, his body quickly finding mine in the dark.
He rests his wet head on my chest, and this time I’m warm enough that I don’t really mind. I inhale quietly, the scent of Victor surrounding me. His body is warm against mine, melding so easily to my side.
I move, and he adjusts so I can slide my arms around him. Victor…in my arms. It’s like a dream. His breathing slows, and I feel his body relax deeper into mine as sleep claims him.
Love defines my skating now? Sounds about right.