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“Hey.”
Victor sat on the ground in the skaters’ area, eyes closed and head back against the wall and his earbuds in to listen to his short program music for the thousandth time. He opened his eyes when he heard Yuuri’s voice, so attuned to its tone and cadence after listening to it for almost a year. He offered his fiance a smile, genuine but small, and pulled the earbuds out to wrap the cord around his fingers.
“Hi.”
Yuuri stood over Victor and cocked his head to the side, taking in the Russian’s strange quiet and stillness. “You okay over here?’
“Mhm. Fine. I’m fine.” Victor nodded a few times and continued wrapping the cord around his fingers. When he got to the end, he let the earbuds go and wound them again, over and over. Yuuri put his back to the wall and slid down to sit next to Victor, legs pulled up and arms resting on his knees so no one could see the careful concern in his face.
“Talk to me.”
Victor stopped winding his earbuds and looked at Yuuri, his face suspiciously fixed. “What?”
“I have spent a majority of the past year by your side, learning you every mood. Victor Nikiforov never says he’s fine. He’s wonderful or brilliant or inspired, but he is never simply fine.”
The Russian tipped his head forward to hide his blue eyes behind his silver fringe. He pulled his long legs in to sit cross-legged but remained silent. Yuuri scooted a few inches closer and reached out to take his hand.
“Victor, it’s just me.”
Yuuri waited a moment and gave his fiance’s hand a gentle squeeze. It was like an activation button. Victor spoke to Yuuri’s hand, playing with his fingers while he tried to gather his thoughts, his eyes down and voice low so as to keep his feelings from reaching prying eyes and ears.
“...Nervous. I’m nervous. Twenty years of skating and for the first time in a very long time I am nervous. I took almost a year off from competing, and even after my comeback at Nationals...I’m competing against my student and my fiance for the first time. If I mess up, everyone out there is going to hate the both of us. Or worse, pity us. I will have let them down and let you down. And I don’t quite know how to handle it.”
Yuuri turned and reached over to tilt Victor’s chin up with his fingers.
“Hey, look at me.”
Victor didn’t resist, but he didn’t look Yuuri in the eyes. He closed them and sat motionless, merely existing in Yuuri’s presence. The Japanese skater wouldn’t have it. He dropped Victor’s chin and in one fluid motion pushed off from the wall and swung his far leg over Victor’s lap, effectively straddling his thighs and caging him in. He put both hands on the sides of Victor’s head and forced his head up and their eyes to meet. “ Look at me, Victor.” His own bright blue eyes widened at the sudden change in Yuuri’s demeanor. For a moment, Victor was entranced by the sight of the determination and protectiveness in the expression. When Yuuri spoke, his earnest voice was strong and clear. “Forget everyone else, everything else. There’s nobody here, no coaches, no fans, no press. When you get out on the ice, skate for me. Just like at the Ice Castle. Only me.”
“Yuuri...”
“Not so long ago I needed you to believe in me more than I believed in myself. Now I’m doing the same for you. You can do this, Victor.”
Victor didn’t have time to respond when Yakov turned the corner, and finding the couple in such an insinuating position, lost his mind and started shouting at Victor to get a move on. Yuuri stayed focused on Victor, not immune to Yakov’s shouting but too concerned about Victor to care. He kept their eyes locked for a moment more, then swung his leg back over so he was sitting next to Victor instead on top of him. The couple got up from the floor quickly, Victor clutching Yuuri’s hand and Yuuri gently taking his earbuds. He walked with Victor and Yakov all the way to the barrier, Victor handing off his jacket and skate guards to his coach as soon as his name was announced. Yuuri caught his arm before he pushed off on the ice and they exchanged a determined look.
Victor took a lap around the rink and took the liberty of a single axel before he got into his starting position in the middle of the rink. He took a barely perceptible deep breath and waited for his music to start, trying his best to shut out the sounds and sights of the crowd watching him.
Only me.
As the familiar sound of his short program filled the arena, Victor thought of Yuuri. He thought of the familiar brisk air in the Ice Castle in Hasetsu, of the long lingering days the two of them spent dancing around each other on the ice, of the shining brown eyes that seemed to follow his every move with awe and adoration. He felt Yuuri’s hands in his, warm and soft even after dozens of falls; Yuuri’s lips on his, gentle and undemanding but still inviting and passionate; Yuuri’s embrace, the home that for the longest time Victor didn’t think he would ever have or deserve.
He poured all of this into his short program, into every twist and turn and step and spin. Every jump felt like catching more air than ever before. When he landed his final pose, the crowd went crazy. They chanted Victor’s name, waved Russian flags and homemade banners, and tossed stuffed poodles onto the ice. Victor was stuck bowing and waving until an exit path was cleared for him. He grabbed a poodle pushie, still completely oblivious as to what actually happened during his skate, and kept his eyes fixed on the scratches and divots in his path.
Yakov waited for him at the barrier. Victor snapped on his skate guards and shrugged into his team jacket, not really listening to his coach’s critique and really searching for familiar brown eyes or a shock of dark hair. He didn’t have to search for long. Yuuri was at his side in an instant, hugging him from behind until Victor turned in his arms and kissed the top of his head.
Yuuri let go only to frame Victor’s face with his hands once more, tipping their foreheads together as in a gesture so intimate the crowd quieted significantly at the sight.
“Well done.”
Yuuri whispered into the space between then, as if the praise were a secret between the two of them. Victor couldn’t quite hide the smile that pulled on the corners of his mouth. He pressed it to Yuuri’s cheek quickly, happy for so many things - to be back on the ice, to be competing, and to have made his fiance proud. He beamed the entire way to the Kiss and Cry, where the scores showed Victor Nikiforov in first place with Yuuri Katsuki in second. With only one skater left to perform, medalling was a guarantee.
Later, after the medal ceremony and during the press conference, Victor held Yuuri’s hand under the table as reporters fired questions at them. Victor called on one he recognized, an observant woman from Japan who followed both of their careers closely.
“Mr. Nikiforov, many have commented that working as a competitor and coach has the potential to split your focus and unhinge your performances. How would you respond after today?”
Victor felt Yuuri squeeze his hand, and he turned to offer him a knowing smile. Looking back at the reporter, the determined glint in his eye obvious, he responded.
“If Yuuri believes in me half as much as I believe in him, then our winning streaks are just beginning.”