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Yuuri was running, he didn’t know from what, but he knew that he couldn’t stop. Tears poured down his face, the bitter cold starting to freeze them as they crept onto the pale skin of his cheeks. He shivered, his thin jacket doing little to protect him against the frigid wind whipping through the streets. Yuuri ran and ran until he felt his legs give out, sending him crashing down onto the snow dappled pavement. He tried to stand, he really did, but his body wouldn’t answer. Yuuri was tired, so very tired, all he wanted to do now was sleep. Yuuri felt the shivering slowly subside as he curled up into himself. He’d just sleep for a little then keep moving, that wouldn’t hurt, right?
Yuuri awoke with a start, still shivering from the cold he’d been in just a moment ago. No- he hadn’t been in the cold, it was just a dream. Yuuri laid back, listening to Victor breathe beside him, trying to put it out of his mind. He’d had nightmares before, this was nothing new, he just had to lay back and let himself forget all about it.
Yuuri looked up at the ceiling, letting his eyes trace around the room that he shared with his fiance. The space was covered with Victor’s things, medals, trophies and keepsakes just as it had been when Yuuri had moved in. Even though he’d been in Saint Petersburg for over half a year, Yuuri had yet to truly make any space in Victor’s spacious flat truly his . He couldn’t say why, it’s not like Victor would mind if he unloaded a few more of his things or redecorated, but somehow doing so would feel like violating the sanctity of the space.
Yuuri thought that when he moved in with Victor, the apartment they shared would feel like a new home. A place where he could feel like he belonged, as he had with his family in Hasetsu or in Detroit with Phichit. However, despite his best efforts there was a part of Yuuri that still saw this as temporary, more like staying at a hotel than beginning a new life, and he could never exactly place why. It wasn’t as if Victor was any less wonderful than he had been when they’d stayed at the onsen together, if anything their relationship had only grown closer over the years. Perhaps he still needed time to adjust, Russia was very different from Japan or America after all.
Yuuri groaned, turning onto his side and wincing in pain. Had he fallen on that side during practice? He didn’t remember taking any nasty falls, but sometimes the pain didn’t set in for a few hours, however it was odd that he didn’t notice it before bed. Yuuri shivered again, cursing under his breath. It was just a dream, why was his body so stubborn in catching up? Another wave of shivers wracked his body, and Yuuri grumbled, slowly sliding out of bed. If he couldn’t get warm here then he’d take a quick shower, it would be good for the soreness as well.
Yuuri padded across the large room into the luxurious master bath. No matter how much he complained about this place not feeling like home, whatever that means, Yuuri couldn’t deny that the apartment was the nicest place he’d lived by a long shot. The bathroom was no exception, polished marble countertops, an oversize shower and whirlpool tub all in a space larger than some studio apartments.
Yuuri knew that some of the other skaters resented Victor’s success, and it was true that Victor wasn’t exactly subtle with his wealth. From his designer suits to the Chanel lip balm he insisted that both he and Yuuri use, Victor was certainly no stranger to luxury. But that never truly bothered Yuuri in the way it seemed to enrage some others. Of course Victor was wealthy, but whatever money Victor had, he’d earned through hard work and creativity. Victor was the best figure skater in the world, so of course it followed that he would be the wealthiest too, that was only fair in Yuuri’s eyes. Of course, that didn’t mean that Yuuri deserved any of this luxury, the apartment, the clothing, Victor, Yuuri hadn’t done anything to deserve this happiness. He wasn’t the greatest figure skater on earth, not even close. Victor could always find some fault in every performance he gave, and for good reason. No matter how many medals he got, how much praise others gave him, he always knew that he’d never be perfect like Victor, never fully achieve his one goal. Yuuri sighed, pulling off his shirt. A shower would be good, help him clear his mind, and- what was that on his side?
There was a huge bruise, no, multiple bruises across the right side of his body, lined up exactly where he’d fallen in his dream. There was no way he’d taken a fall like that in practice and not noticed it. At the very least Victor would have said something when he changed in the locker room after, a bruise this big couldn’t just come out of nowhere, unless…
No, no, Yuuri that was impossible. He didn’t have a soulmate, or at the very least he’d never find his soulmate. He was with Victor, he loved Victor more than life itself. Even if they weren’t soulmates they were still perfect for each other, and that’s what mattered. But… the dream felt so real, and the bruises certainly were. Maybe Victor was Yuuri’s soulmate after all, and it just took some time for things to start. Sure they’d been in close proximity before, but maybe it was moving to Russia that finally set it off? It had to be Victor, who else could it be?
Yuuri peeled off his pajama pants, climbing into the shower and letting the warm water soothe his aching muscles. He’d never heard about anything happening to Victor like he’d seen in his dream, but it wasn’t as if Victor was very forthcoming with his past. For all Yuuri knew that was some traumatic event from Victor’s past that he’d simply never mentioned. That was the point of having a soulmate after all, to truly love and understand someone you must experience life through their eyes, and that’s what these dreams were. When your soulmate is near your dreams are filled with their memories, so go the stories, at least.
Yuuri let the water cascade around him, the soft pattering of the droplets against the fine tile floor slowly pushing the thoughts of soulmates and destiny aside, allowing him to close his eyes and enjoy the sensation of warmth that chased away the bone deep chill that had set in after the dream. He hoped that the next of Victor’s memories he inhabited was a fun trip to the beach, or at least took place in the summer.
---
“Wake up! It’s time to get to the rink!” Victor’s voice rang out, jolting Yuuri awake. His eyes blinked open, taking in the small, cluttered apartment that he called home, filled with exercise clothing, medals, and … posters of Yuuri Katsuki? Yuuri sat up, rubbing his eyes, and getting another look at the space he was inhabiting. It was a small, cheap apartment, clearly Russian, given the language of the magazines that littered the bed and floor. They were all skating and sports publications, the kind that Yuuri used to scour for information about Victor when he was growing up.
“I mean it, you’ve overslept already and I’m not going to ask again!” It was Victor again, and Yuuri felt his body rise from the bed slowly. It seems that he only has partial control in one of his soulmate’s memories… wait, if this is a memory, and he could hear Victor’s voice, then…
Yuuri felt panic rise in his throat, losing track of what was happening in the dream as his own mind began to spin out of control. He wasn’t Victor in this dream. That meant that he wasn’t Victor in the last dream either, which meant that.
Victor wasn’t his soulmate.
That wasn’t possible, was it? How could Yuuri ever love someone who wasn’t Victor Nikiforov? Victor had done so much for him, shared so much with him, given him a place to live in Saint Petersburg. They were perfect together, Yuuri knew that, and he knew everything about Victor Nikiforov. “But how much do you really know?” Yuuri asked himself, dread filling his gut. “You’ve read all the stories, watched every interview, but has he ever told you about his childhood? Or anything before you two met?” Yuuri couldn’t do this. He didn’t know who his soulmate was, and he didn’t want to. If he learned then it would be over, wasted. Everything he built with Victor could be gone in an instant. “If your love is so strong then what are you so scared of finding out?” No, no, it wasn’t that he was insecure, he just couldn’t deal with this, he didn’t need to deal with this, because it was just a dream, nothing more. Wake up Yuuri, wake up… wake-
Yuuri bolted awake, gasping desperately for air, cold sweat clinging to his body as his eyes darted around. He exhaled in relief, Victor’s apartment, no posters on the walls, no magazines everywhere, he was back in reality.
“Are you well my love?” He heard Victor’s voice, ragged from sleep behind him, a hand tracing gently over his back.
“F-fine, just a nightmare.” Yuuri leaned back into the touch. Everything was okay, he was back with Victor, back with the man he loved. “The man you think you love.”
“You’ve been having a lot of those recently, huh?” Victor wrapped his arms around Yuuri, holding him close. He placed a soft kiss on top of Yuuri’s head, humming as he noticed the scent of his own conditioner on Yuuri’s hair.
“Yeah, I guess I’m just stressed about the next season. I’m starting to feel like a relic compared to some of the younger skaters.” Yuuri chuckled anxiously, hoping Victor didn’t see through the lie.
“Maybe you should see your therapist more? You need every advantage you can get if you want to stand a chance against Yurio in the next season. Your quads are still sloppier than his, and you have years more experience.”
“I know Vitya- I know. I promise I’ll try my best, okay?” Victor’s words disquieted Yuuri, but he tried not to show it. He knew that Victor meant well, but sometimes it was hard to tell where his coach ended and his lover began. Yuuri wished Victor could keep the critique on the ice, and not bring it to bed with them, but he knew that it wasn’t reasonable to ask Victor to keep his thoughts to himself.
“I know you will, and your best is always getting better!” Victor smiled, ruffling Yuuri’s hair before he laid back, pulling Yuuri down with him. “Try to get some sleep, alright?”
“I’ll do my best.” Yuuri spoke softly, laying back in the plush, perfect bed, listening to his perfect boyfriend fall asleep in his massive, perfect apartment. Everything in his life was a fantasy, more than anything he could have even dreamed of growing up, “But fantasies are just that, they never last do they?” Yuuri groaned, rolling over away from Victor. Things were fine, he and Victor were fine. Soulmate or not they still loved each other and nothing could ever change that.
---
The dreams stopped for a few weeks after the last incident, and Yuuri was so absorbed in training for the season that he almost forgot about them entirely. Perhaps he had been wrong, and what he thought were signs of a soulmate were actually just vivid dreams all along. The bruise was odd, but it wasn’t like bruises were foreign to Yuuri, especially when he was training his quads as hard as he had been.
Still, despite the long gap Yuuri wasn’t surprised when he woke again in the now familiar ratty apartment, adorned with his posters. At least he knew that his soulmate was a fan, that narrowed down the pool quite considerably, and he lived in Russia too, and … knew Victor? That meant he probably went to the same rink, but Yuuri hadn’t met anyone at the rink who he’d even call a close friend, let alone a soulmate.
His soulmate slowly rose from the bed, stretching as he made his way to the bathroom. Yuuri didn’t fight it this time, letting the dream play out. Maybe it was because Victor had been pushing him to the brink with the practices lately, having him run quads and programs over and over, finding a fault every single time, or maybe it was simply curiosity. If it was someone in the rink than Yuuri thought he should know, just to keep an eye on things. “Do you want to know so you can stay away from them or because you want to run away from Victor?”
His soulmate padded softly across the room, finally reaching the bathroom and shoving the door open with little grace. Yuuri felt his mind tingle with anticipation as he reached the mirror, knowing that, whatever he saw, it would be life changing. He could still leave, there was still time to not know… “But you want to know, don’t you?”
Yuuri looked into the mirror through the emerald green eyes of Yuri Plisetsky, breath catching in his throat as he took in the delicate frame of the younger skater. This wasn’t a recent memory, Yuri’s hair was still short, and the height which he’d gained in the years since his senior debut were gone, replaced with a scowl that threatened to crack the stained mirror in front of him. Yuri- the guy who’d yelled at him, tried his best to take Victor away from him, and constantly insulted him over the years, was his soulmate? He couldn’t imagine it, not even a little bit. Dreams or no, there’s no way he would ever leave Victor for Yuri. “He asked how you were yesterday at practice, he always gives you food when you forget to bring some, he asks how you are when even Victor doesn’t notice you’re feeling stressed.” No. Yuri is a friend, barely that, they didn’t- they wouldn’t, ever be like Victor and Yuuri were. “Do you want another relationship like the one you have with Victor?”
Yuuri watched as Yuri got ready for the day, showering, pulling on practice clothes, and skipping breakfast as he jogged over to the rink, breath fogging up as the cold morning air sent pinpricks of sensation along his face. Yuuri wasn’t sure why the universe had seen fit to show him this memory out of all the possibilities. Was it crucial that he have an in-depth understanding of what Yuri’s morning routine as a teenager was? Or was there something magical about this fairly standard jog through Saint Petersburg towards the rink? As Yuri neared the rink, Yuuri found his mind wandering, and he wondered if Yuri was having dreams of his past. Was Yuri experiencing the Hot Springs on Ice from the other side? Seeing Yuuri cry as he left for Detroit? Yuuri could almost hear Yuri’s frustration at having to spend all night watching sappy bullshit.
Yuri was at the rink now, checking in and depositing a few things in the locker room, a space that Yuuri was intimately familiar with after his time training there. Yuri seemed unhurried, but Yuuri couldn’t help but notice a lack of any other skaters. Yuri was either early or late, and knowing Yuri, Yuuri could assume that he was late.
“Late again?” Victor’s voice was cold, cutting through the silent space like a knife. Yuuri had heard Victor angry, frustrated, but he’d never heard Victor use a tone like that.
“Alarm didn’t go off, besides you and Yakov don’t start training me until 10 anyways, I don’t waste my time with those bullshit assistants, you know that.” Yuuri was taken aback, he’d never heard Yuri’s voice when he was this young, and even if his disposition was the same, the high tone wasn’t what Yuuri expected from the skater.
“I asked you to be here at seven, and you show up at nine thirty? Do you even care about this Yura?” Victor stepped closer, looming over the smaller blonde, who stared defiantly up at the older man.
“Of course I do, idiot! What kind of question is that?” Yuri spat the words out, slamming his locker shut and spinning the combination lock closed.
“Do you think I got here by slacking off? That Yuuri got where he is by taking mornings off? If you want to reach the professional level you have to take things seriously, and that means listening to your coaches!”
Coaches? Yuuri was taken aback, did Victor used to coach Yuri? From everything Victor and Yakov had ever said, Yuuri was Victor’s first student. But, the way that Victor was talking it almost sounded like he was Yuri’s coach, but that couldn’t be true, could it? And why was Victor bringing up Yuuri’s name like he knew him already? Had he really been on Victor’s radar that far back?
“Shut the fuck up asshole, Yakov only calls you coach to make you feel better while your knee gets fixed. You just get whiny when you realize how useless you ar-” Yuri didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence before Victor’s hand stopped him, the older man slapping Yuri across the cheek, hard enough to send him stumbling into the locker.
“You do NOT fucking talk to me like that. I’ll see you on the ice in half an hour, you better not be fucking late.” Victor stormed out of the locker room, a noticeable limp in his step.
Yuuri whimpered as his eyes slowly opened, the sting of the slap still lingering on his cheek. The bed was empty, and the sunlight pouring through the curtains put the time at somewhere around 10:00. It was Friday, Yuuri remembered, one of his few days off and the day when Victor spent the morning in physical therapy, making sure none of his old injuries were acting up again.
Yuuri didn’t know what to think about that dream. He knew that Yuri and Victor had never been on the best of terms, especially not after the hot springs on ice, but he didn’t know things had been that bad between them. And coach? Had Victor been Yuri’s coach when he’d taken that season off all those years ago? That would make a certain kind of sense, but why hadn’t Yuuri ever heard of it? He’d read everything there was to read about Victor over the years, and not once had he seen any reference to coaching before 2016, when he left for Japan. “He lied to you, he hid the truth. He hurt Yuri and covered it up.” Yuuri pushed the thoughts out of his mind, he didn’t know the full story yet, he’d have to wait for more before he made a decision. “But how can you face him, talk to him, love him, after seeing that?” Yuuri shook his head, sighing. He didn’t know how he was going to hide it from Victor, but he’d find a way. If Victor found out he had a soulmate then things would be over, regardless of whether or not Yuuri was planning on leaving Victor. Whether or not… was he really considering leaving Victor for Yuri of all people? Yuuri groaned, curling up underneath the blankets. He needed to talk to Phichit, his friend always knew what to do in these situations.
Yuuri didn’t bother getting out of bed, instead he just grabbed his phone from the desk, unlocking it and navigating to facetime. The clock in the top right corner told him it was 10:15, which meant he still had an hour or two before Victor got back, plenty of time to speak to Phichit in private.
When Phichit picked up the call, Yuuri’s screen was filled with the bright glow of a rink, Phichit smiling happily into the camera. “Yuuri! What a surprise! It’s been a while since you called!”
“Hey Phichit…” Yuuri tried his best to force a smile, but the best he could manage is a lopsided grimace.
“Yuuri, you’re my friend and everything, and I say this with lots of love, but you look like garbage right now. What’s up?” Phichit chuckled lightly, but the concern in his eyes was clear. Yuuri sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. How was he supposed to explain this in a way that made sense?
“Did you know Victor coached Yuri?” Yuuri saw a look of confusion float across Phichit’s face, that wasn’t how apparently.
“No? I thought you were the only Yuri he’d ever coached, but why is that important right now?” Phichit furrowed his brow, speaking carefully. “Did something happen? I can be there by the end of the day if there’s an ass you need me to kick?”
“No, no no, nothing like that. I- don’t know how to say this, so I guess I’ll just spit it out. I have a soulmate.” Yuuri looked down, unable to meet Phichit’s gaze.
“Yuuri! Why didn’t you say earlier! That’s incredible! I’m surprised it took you and Victor this long! I mean with me and Chris it was like boom! You know? As soon as we touched the first time it was overwhelming. But even if it took a while I’m so happy you finally found that connection…” Phichitt babbled excitedly, Yuuri sighed, speaking up to interrupt his train of thought.
“It’s not Victor.” The words were blunt, smashing through the light tone of the conversation like a brick through glass. Yuuri could see Phichit recoil at the revelation.
“What? Not Victor? How is that even possible?”
“I don’t know, Phichit, but the dreams I’ve had, they aren’t Victor’s memories.”
“Then who is it?”
“Yurio.”
“What? That can’t be right can it Yuuri?”
“I didn’t think it was either, but the memories, I learned some things about Victor, and I don’t know if I can stay with him.” ,Phichit’s face dropped, the shock seeming to wear off as the gravity of the situation hit him.
“What did you learn, Yuuri? I can’t imagine there was anything about Victor you didn’t know before now.” His voice was serious, eyes gleaming with intensity, studying Yuuri’s face for any indication.
“I don’t know- the memories are short, I haven’t seen the full story yet…” Yuuri sighed deeply, “This doesn’t leave this call okay?”
“Of course, you know I’m great with secrets!” Phichit smiled reassuringly.
“Victor coached Yuri at one point, when he hurt his leg. He- he hit him, didn’t treat him well. I don’t know how bad it got, but it just… I don’t know if I can look at him the same way after seeing that.”
“Shit, that’s intense Yuuri.”
“Yeah, I just- I don’t know what to do.”
“Well, you have time, you don’t need to make a choice right away. Maybe you should wait until the dreams show you the full story. Not everyone chooses to be with their soulmate, you know/”
“Yeah, I know, but it’s nice to hear someone else say it. Thanks Phichit, I needed to let this out of my system. Just- please don’t tell Chris, alright?”
“I meant it, Yuuri, your secret is safe with me!” Phichit giggled, miming a zipping motion across his lips. “Not to cut things short, but I gotta get back to practice, text me, alright?”
“Yeah, talk to you later.” Yuuri waved until Phichit hung up, as soon as the screen was blank he put his phone off to the side, collapsing back onto the bed. What was he going to do? If he chose Victor he’d be ignoring his soulmate, and all the lies Victor had told didn’t sit well with him. But Yuri, Yuri was nine years younger, and Yuuri had never seen him as anything other than a friend. “Is that really true? You couldn’t keep your eyes off him at practice the other day…” Yuuri sighed, reluctantly climbing out of bed. Dwelling on the issue wouldn’t solve anything, now he just had to wait for the next dream.
---
Yuuri didn’t have to wait long, the next dream came within a week, his eyes blinking open to take in the familiar rink in Saint Petersburg. Yuri was skating, some old program that Yuuri couldn’t quite remember, but the fluidity and performance was remarkable for a junior. Hell, this program was difficult enough that performing it at this level would have been a strong showing even for a senior. The music reached a crescendo and so did Yuri’s performance, a beautiful combination spin followed by his final pose, gasping for air as the soft echoes of the piece echoed off the walls.
“No no no, that wasn’t how I saw it at all!” Victor sighed, exasperated. “You need to put feeling in it, you're still skating like you don’t mean it!”
“Hard to feel the fantasy and wonder of this piece when you’ve had me run it all fucking day.” Yuri scoffed, relaxing out of his pose and skating over towards the side of the rink where Victor sat.
“You wouldn’t have to keep running it if you’d just listen to what I’m telling you!” Victor shouted back, wincing as he jumped to his feet.
“Can I at least mark the jumps? The performance is what you’re pissed about anyways.” Yuuri could feel the burn in Yuri’s muscles, the strain of a body pushed beyond its limits.
“The jumps are a part of the performance. Stop being sloppy, Yura.” Victor sighed, stepping over to the boombox. “Back in position, we can be here all night if we need to.”
Yuri groaned, skating back to his starting position and launching back into the program as the music began again. He threw everything into the performance, but halfway through his body failed him, sending him crashing out a jump, small frame splayed against the ice as sobs began to fall from his throat. It hurt, it hurt a lot. He’d fallen before, but not like this, not so many times in one day.
“That’s the best you can do? Get up and do it again!” Victor shouted across the rink, voice echoing off the walls.
Yuri tried, he really did, but his body wouldn’t move, couldn’t move. He was breathing fast, too fast, and everything hurt, the whole room was spinning, he was going to pass out. “V-Victor I don’t feel well, I need to take a break.” He managed to stammer out, voice weaker than Yuuri had ever heard the Russian before.
“You want to take a break? Do you hear yourself? I’d kill to be where you are. I wish I was on the ice, able to move and perform however I want, but instead I have to sit back here and watch you squander your potential! You want a break? Fine, get off the ice.” Yuri stumbled to his feet, clumsily navigating his way off to the side, sliding his guards on. Victor limped over, piercing blue eyes locked on the younger man.
“I’m sorry Victor, it’s just, we’ve been going all day, the others already left.” Yuri looked down, trying to ignore the glare from his coach as he pulled off his skates, slipping into more comfortable running shoes.
“And? You want to be the best, right? That means you have to work harder than anyone else.”
“I know, but I don’t have the stamina you do yet.”
“How do you think I got it?” Victor was next to Yuri now, a heavy hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “I got it by working, by killing myself until I was the best. And now that I’m useless, they’re having me train my replacement, I’m not going to let you revel in mediocrity while I’m supposed to be coaching you!” Victor struck Yuri, knocking the boy off the bench, onto the ground. As soon as he did Yuuri heard him gasp, a hand gently tracing across Yuri’s cheek, where a bruise was already starting to form.
“Fuck- Yura I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I just got angry, and my leg hurt, I’m so sorry.” Victor’s voice was strained, eyes wide with shock as he tried to help the smaller skater off the cold floor, placing him on the bench before stepping back. “I’m going to go get an ice pack, just try to sit still, okay?” Victor set off as quickly as his injured let would allow, disappearing into a side room where Yuuri knew the freezer held a number of ice packs for the skaters. Yuri, however, didn’t wait for Victor to come back with the supplies, instead he set off with a choked sob, running out of the building.
Yuuri remembered this, the first dream of Yuri’s he’d ever had, before he even knew whose mind he was inhabiting. He was running, desperate to escape the rink that, despite its massive size, seemed too small, too constricting. No space with Victor Nikiforov could be large enough for Yuri, he needed to leave, now.
This time Yuuri’s mind wasn’t clouded with confusion and he could feel Yuri’s rage, sadness, and betrayal flowing through him. He understood, for just a moment, why Yuri had always been so angry. Everyone he’d known had either left him, wanted to use him for their own purposes, or hurt him, and Victor was the last straw. Yuri ran and ran, not stopping until he collapsed onto the ground, everything going blank.
Yuuri awoke with a cry, pain shooting through his body. He clasped his hands over his mouth to muffle the sound, tears streaming down his face. Everything hurt. His side, his legs, his face- fuck his face felt like it was on fire. Yuuri felt Victor stir beside him and stood, sliding into the bathroom, locking the door shut behind him as sobs wracked through his body, curling up on the floor. Pain, both emotional and physical, drove all other thoughts out of his mind.
After a few minutes the sobs subsided into whimpers. Yuuri didn’t rise from the floor, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He heard a soft knock on the door, most likely his cries had woken Victor. “Hey, Yuuri, you okay in there?” Victor spoke softly, carefully.
“F-fine, give me a minute, alright?” Yuuri knew that the sound of his broken, thin voice wouldn’t do anything to convince Victor that he was alright, but he needed a little time to put himself together, come up with some excuse and ease Victor’s worries. It was when Yuuri stood, reflection clear in the mirror, that he realized with horror that there was no hiding this.
A massive bruise covered the right half of his face, with another, this one familiar, covering his right side. His eyes had deep bags, a sickly red from sobbing, and his face was pale as death. This wasn’t something that could be covered with a thick hoodie or even makeup. No matter what he did Victor would see, and when Victor saw he would ask, and Yuuri wouldn’t be able to lie if Victor asked him directly.
He’d been immersed in lies since this entire ordeal had begun, but he was getting tired of hiding, tired of pretending like everything between them was normal. “Tired of pretending you haven’t watched your husband beat his teenage student.” Yuuri whimpered, and tears were falling again, stinging as they fell over his ruined cheek. This was it, the moment where everything he had, everything he and Victor had built over the last few years would fall apart, all because of some stupid coincidence. “If Victor had been honest from the start maybe you would have been his soulmate…” No, there was no point debating that. Whether or not there was a world where he and Victor could live happily together was beside the point. What Yuuri needed to do now was come clean to Victor, whatever the consequences.
The door was only a few steps away, but it felt like miles. Yuuri walked slowly, body moving of its own accord, each step sending waves of pain through his sore limbs. Yuuri reached out, slowly opening the door, to reveal his boyfriend on the other side, eyes wide with worry.
“Yuuri, what happened?” Victor’s voice was soft and caring. Yuuri felt another wave of tears come as the reality of the situation hit him. What if this was the last time he could collapse into Victor’s embrace during an episode? What if things didn’t work out with Yuri either and Yuuri was left all alone, having driven off everyone around him?
Yuuri was taken away from his thoughts by a jolt of pain, Victor had traced a finger lightly across the bruising that covered his face. “What happened? I don’t remember you taking any hits there during practice? Do you need me to get ice?” Yuuri pulled away, eyes meeting his lover’s.
“Victor, I know what happened.” Yuuri’s voice was broken with sobs, and he could see the desperation filling Victor’s face, the need to comfort the man he loved.
“What do you mean Yuuri?”
“I know what happened with you and Yurio.” Yuuri looked down, pulling close to Victor again. Even now he still sought comfort in the older man, old habits die hard. Even without watching he could feel the change, Victor’s posture slumping with disappointment, voice becoming more strained.
“I- I’m sorry Yuuri I should have told you sooner. What I did was wrong, I know it was, and I regret it every single day. I was angry and in pain because of the injury, but that doesn’t excuse any of it.” Victor’s voice was filled with pain, Yuuri knew that he was sincere, he’d at least learned enough about Victor to know that. Part of him wished that Victor hadn’t been regretful, or that he’d argued that it had never happened, it would make what was about to come easier.
“I know Vitya, I know. It’s just- it’s how I found out.”
“H-how? Did Yakov tell you?”
“Yuri is my soulmate.” The words fell so easily out of Yuuri’s mouth that he barely noticed he’d said them, until he felt the silence that had fallen over the room.
“What? That’s impossible! I mean I didn’t know you two even liked each other, and we were going to get married, remember?” Victor was crying too now, Yuuri could feel the warm tears falling onto the top of his head.
“That’s where these bruises came from Vitya- and the dreams I’ve been having, they’re all Yuri’s memories. I didn’t want this either, but- you- I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Yuuri’s words slowly trailed off into nonsense as he began sobbing again, pressing himself further into the taller man’s embrace. That’s how the two stayed for a time, slowly moving over to the bed where they sobbed together for what felt like hours. Yuuri fell asleep after Victor, right as the first rays of sunlight began to fill the room with warm light.
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Yuuri moved out of Victor’s apartment a few days later. Neither of them wanted things to end, but neither of them could really feel comfortable around the other after that night. A wall had been put up between them, and Yuuri could feel the distance everywhere, like a fog filling their apartment. In the end he decided it was best to move out, their relationship ending with a whimper.
Victor made the announcement on Instagram a few days later and Yuuri was bombarded with questions from his friends and family, all of whom seemed desperate to know how his seemingly perfect relationship had fallen apart overnight. He didn’t tell them, he didn’t tell any of them. How could he? He hadn’t even had the courage to talk to Yurio for weeks, scared that any small conversation could bring out the secret passion that the universe seemed to think was hiding within their relationship. In truth, Yuuri still didn’t see what about Yuri was supposed to bring him happiness. There wasn’t any great draw to the younger skater, not the electric, desperate passion he’d felt towards Victor. Without Victor his life felt empty, his skating had grown bland, and his motivation to practice had been melting away.
After another day of practicing in silence, doing his best to avoid both Yuri and Victor, Yuuri was asked to go home early by Yakov, the older man had said that Yuuri needed to get himself out of this hole before he could have any sort of productive practice. Yuuri could feel the stares as he left, the sympathy and pity sending waves of anger through his stomach. He didn’t need to be pitied, this whole thing had been his fault to begin with, and if he couldn’t deal with the fallout of his actions then that was his problem, not anyone else's. Yuri had skated over, but before he could say anything Yuuri was running, not stopping until he collapsed back into his bed at home, falling into a restless sleep.
Yuuri’s eyes blinked open, and he immediately knew that he was dreaming. He was in a hospital bed, thin blankets piled atop his bony frame. He could hear voices, familiar voices speaking in the next room over.
“Victor, what you did was reckless, irresponsible, and makes me ashamed to call you my student. He could have died out there in the cold! He could sue you, and if he does I have half a mind to help him.” Yakov’s voice boomed out, echoing off the linoleum walls of the hospital, even through the thin door separating him from Yuri’s room.
“I know alright? I know I fucked up, but he’s alive right? And the nurses said he’d make a full recovery!” Victor sounded desperate, Yuuri recognized this tone very well. Victor never could face up to a failure, there was always something that meant that he hadn’t really messed up.
“Physically, Vitya. Mentally who knows what this could have done to him, and that can affect skaters just as much, if not more than physical health, especially at his age.” Yuri groaned, shifting under the blankets, trying to bury himself in the thin bedding, not wanting to think about his coaches in the other room. His efforts were useless, however, when the two men slowly stepped in, Yakov sitting next to Yuri while Victor stood sheepishly near the door, trying his best to avoid eye contact with the younger skater.
“I’m so sorry this happened Yura, I should have kept a better eye on the situation.” Yakov’s voice was serious, he rummaged around in a satchel, producing a few forms. “And while I promise it will never happen again, I hope you understand that what happened can never leave this room.”
“What? That’s bullshit! You’re just gonna pretend that never happened now?” Yuri shouted, the effort sending pangs of pain through his body, but he didn’t care, he was too angry to care.
“I will do no such thing. I will take charge of your recovery and future training personally. I will ensure that you get only the best from here on out. But to do that this club has to stay open, da?” Yakov put the forms on the small bedside table, fishing around for a few pencils.
“I guess that makes sense… what are those?” Yuri’s voice quieted slightly, he couldn’t stay angry for long, not in this physical condition.
“This is a non-disclosure agreement and an agreement not to press any charges against Victor.” Yakov spoke grimly, pointing out a few empty lines. “Sign here, here and here and we can begin the process of your recovery.”
“And what if I don’t sign? I could sue Victor for this you know.” Yuri glared defiantly up at his coach, shimmering green eyes not dulled by the days in the hospital.
“Then you’ll never skate again, not in Russia. Your family will lose their main source of income, and you’ll hardly be in a position to retain a lawyer. I’m sorry Yuri, I don’t wish to force your hand, but we can’t afford to lose Victor, not now.” Yakov’s voice softened, he placed a hand on Yuri’s shoulder, eyes almost begging the boy to not fight more.
“Fine, but I’m not working with him again.” Yuri spat out, scratching his name onto the forms, and tossing the pen back at Yakov when he was finished.
“Of course, I wouldn’t expect you to. Rest up Yura, I’ll visit you again soon.” Yakov looked once more at Yuri before he packed up his things, practically dragging Victor out of the room, the sounds of their argument picking back up as soon as the door was closed. Yuri laid back on the bed, eyes fluttering closed. He’d prove to the whole world that he was every bit the skater that pathetic old man was. He’d make sure that no skater from here on forward would ever forget the name Yuri Plisetsky.
Yuuri woke, it was late, past closing for the rink, but still early enough in the night that he didn’t want to go back to sleep. All Yuuri wanted now was to skate, feel the ice underneath him, the cool air of the rink in his hair, and forget all about Victor. Yuuri grabbed his skating bag, slid on his shoes and was out the door. He didn’t bother changing, he was still wearing his workout clothes from practice earlier that day and it wasn’t like anyone would be at the rink this late regardless.
Yuuri stepped into the rink, glad that he could skate in peace, without the pressure or watchful eyes that came with a group practice. His excitement was broken when he heard the soft scraping of ice skates. Who else would be skating at this hour? He’d never seen anyone else at the rink this late before. Stepping closer to the ice he realized it was Yuri, gliding gracefully across the ice, running through a program Yuuri didn’t recognize.
Even without music, Yuuri could tell what it was about. The program told a tale of loss, desperation, and burning, aching need that Yuuri knew could only represent one thing. Yuuri watched, unable to tear his eyes away from the younger man, stepping closer and closer to the rink, until finally the program came to a close, Yuri’s arm outstretched towards what he expected to be an empty rink, and what was instead Yuuri, eyes locked on his lithe form.
Neither of them spoke as Yuri skated over the edge of the rink, sliding to a stop next to his soulmate, green eyes meeting the deep brown of the older skater. “I’m so sorry Yuri- I, I didn’t know.” Yuuri looked down, tears forming in his eyes. “It was only in the last two months that I even knew who you were to me, let alone what Victor did.”
“It took you this long to have the dreams?” Yuri laughed softly, tilting Yuuri’s head up to meet his eyes.
“Did you have them earlier?”
“Oh Yuuri, I’ve had dreams of you since I was twelve years old…” Yuuri opened his mouth to respond, but his words left him as Yuri’s lips met his in a deep kiss. It was forceful, needy, everything Victor wasn’t. But maybe that was exactly what Yuuri needed.