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Awaiting music’s sweet death, we cut water’s crystal flesh and melt it with sweat to touch the skies. Sinking allowing flight. What an irony hidden beneath dance. Breathe. Breathe. A spark of agony will rise you above.
Yuri let out an angered breath. It was over. He opened his eyes and looked up at his outstretched hand for a moment. Reflector’s light slid between his fingers and touched his bright eyelashes. He let his arms fall to his sides as he stood in the middle of the ice rink. One uncovered his heart, the other his face. He hissed and skated to the exit where Yakov waited. Despite the pleased look on his face, Yuri looked away.
“You did vell, Yurachka.”
“I vas pathetic. And zis program sucks! Staying here is a vaste of time.” He took down his skates ignored the shoes Yakov offered him. “I don’t care about the scor. I vant to go back to Russia.”
Yakov grabbed his arm.
“YURI!” he kept his grip firm as he moved closer to him and leaned over to talk to his ear.
“Let me go.”
Yuri shook Yakov’s grip off of him and walked away. Before any of the journalists could ask him anything, he was already on the way to the changing rooms. He heard Yakov calling him from the behind.
I von’t need dose anymore.
He threw the white gloves he wore to the stadium seating. A fan that caught one of them quickly hid it beneath his coat, and another one showed it off to her girlfriends that cheered her luck. Yuri paid no attention to that. His ears didn’t catch any noise as he focused on his thoughts.
There’s no vay I vill keep performing to this. It barely shovz any of my strengths. I am more than dis.
He stopped and looked back at Yakov who followed him, but was stopped at the tunnel’s entrance being asked for why Yuri didn’t decide to go to kiss-and-cry.
I’m going to become an unreachable dream for everyone. Victor and that Japanese piggy can forget it.
He looked up.
And Yakov...
His coach blocked the light coming from the rink as he was still explaining Yuri’s behavior to the journalists.
He only holds me back.
He let down his hair and curled down his toes. Cold cement was freezing him to the bone.
“Maybe it iz time for me to move on,” he said quietly and wrapped arms around himself.
•
The changing room was quiet. All the skaters were up at the stadium, wondering here the World Champion has gone. Rows of blue lockers silenced what was going on the surface. Yuri put his skates in a big black bag and threw in the costume, before making sure it’s zipped and locked. He shivered before putting on a thick hoodie. It warmed him up, but he still let out a little sneeze.
What a joke. I live on the ice. I can’t get sick.
He put out his phone and was about to click the maps app to look for the nearest pharmacy, but his thumb slipped and clicked contacts instead.
“Hell,” he hissed about to go back, but stopped himself.
Right on the very top of “favorite” section, name Altin Otabek caught his attention. He starred at it for a moment before pressing it. He jumped hearing a phone ringing right behind him. He turned around.
Otabek smiled at him, but his eyes were expressionless. To an outsider it looked more like a sneer look than something you would greet a friend with.
“God, don’t sneak on me like that, you idiot!” Yuri rose his hands and threw down his bag. “What are you doing here?”
“Decided to watch you perform. Before you went to the ice you looked so focused you didn’t even hear me calling you from the sides.”
“Ah.” Yuri looked away and sat down, breathing in and out sharply.
Otabek looked at him for a moment and sat down beside him.
“Hm.” He scratched the paint covering the bench with his nail. “Why do they always do that to wood? It can’t compare to its natural beauty.”
Yuri did not answer, so he leaned forward and looked at his face. Tightly closed eyes, small nose and lean cheeks were red contrasting with porcelain skin. He must have wash his face roughly to get rid of the make-up.
“Are you cold?”
“No. Stop asking me stupid questions.”
“Then why did you call me?” Otabek’s voice was flat.
“Obviously not to talk about white paint and if I’m cold.”
Kazakh skater sighed deeply. Asking never worked on Yuri, but it didn’t hurt to try from time to time when communication failed for once. He moved closer to make their arms touch. Yuri didn’t move. This time he even leaned on him. A little thing, but Otabek appreciated it.
It’s been almost a year since they became friends. They didn’t see each other often. Otabek stayed in the home country and Yuri was busy with showing up on special events, talk shows and training trips. It was Yakov’s idea to let him travel more. Changes of environment could strengthen him and get used to being the brightest rising star from the northern sky, but they seemed to have the opposite effect. Yuri lacked space. If he did have some he’d occasionally text Otabek, but calls were rare. He almost forgot the sound of his voice.
“Let’s get out of here,” Otabek said after a couple of minutes.
He put his hands in his pockets and got up. Yuri opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling for a moment.
“Ye,” he answered getting up and picking up his bag.
“Food?”
Yuri nodded. “Vatever you vant.”
Otabek turned around and started going towards the exist. It was for the best he didn’t encourage Yuri to catch up with him. If he wanted to talk he’d really bitch about whatever was bothering him, but instead he walked slightly behind Otabek, just making sure to follow the helmet hung on his arm swaying in the corner of his eye.
After they arrived at the private part of the underground lot, Otabek showed his identification card to the security guard and passed under the barrier. Yuri walked passed it, still lost in thought, but he looked up at Otabek when he was securing Yuri’s bag.
“I need to drop by a pharmacy before we eat,” he murmured when Otabek offered him another helmet. “I think I’m getting sick.”
Otabek put on his own helmet and got on the machine.
“I can just give you mine. We’re going to my place anyway.”
“What? Why?” Yuri couldn’t complain more, because the rest was muffled by his hiss and a little squeak when he pinched his finger in the chinstrap’s buckle.
“You said we can get whatever I want.” Otabek smiled down at him. “I decided to cook myself.”
Yuri put his finger out of his mouth and looked at him in bewilderment, but a faint smile brightened up his pinkish face.
•
“I’d never sink someone attending the Grand Prix Finals would rent a house instead of a hotel. You still have the energy to cook yourself?”
“I like cooking,” Otabek murmured. Cold wind drowned the last syllable as they walked towards a small bungalow, but Yuri still made out what he said. “And I can make the food taste exactly how I want.”
“Doesn’t it distract you from practice?”
“Why would it?”
Yuri didn’t answer.
A moth circulated around a lamp that automatically lighted up at their arrival. The light was so faint Otabek had to ask Yuri to use his phone’s flashlight on the keyhole. They took of their shoes and walked to the kitchen barefoot. All lights were out, Otabek’s coach was sleeping in his room occasionally snoring every now and then, so Altin closed the door and turned on two lights; above the stove and the counter. Both of them were quiet. Otabek set water to boil in the kettle, put out a cold medicine in a sachet from a bag and then focused on warming up milk after washing his hands in the kitchen sink. Yuri decided to just scrolled down posts on Touchbook.
Katsuki posted some pictures from practice with Victor. Nothing interesting, just them in an embrace and smiling on the ice. He looked at it for a moment.
“Have any spare clothes in the bag?” Otabek asked setting a glass of already prepared cold medicine in front of him. The bag lied in complete shadow on one of the chairs next to Yuri. “You could take a shower and get under a blanket.”
“Tch. I do, but you sound just like my dedushka,” Yuri laughed putting his phone aside. He drank the entire glass in one go. “Eugh! That crap’s awful!”
“Don’t complain, kid.”
Otabek chuckled hearing how Yuri was on the edge of boiling over.
“Hey!” he rose on his hands on the kitchen island. “Who you are calling ‘kid’, prick?! You zink you can can call that a world champion?! How about you show me on the rink what a kid I am, ha?!”
It was the first time Yuri heard Otabek laugh. A low sound, pleasant, but with his characteristic hoarseness. He stopped screaming and looked at Otabek grabbing the edge of the counter. Without his leather Ramones jacket and black glasses, he looked so much less intimidating. When he finally stopped, he kept a gentle smile while mixing the dough.
“Where’s de bathroom?” Yuri asked quietly.
Otabek pointed at a door directly behind Yuri. He reached to his bag and took out a towel and a fresh pair of sweatpants, boxers and the tiger shirt he bought back in Hasetsu. The print was harsher in touch, detaching from the fabric in a couple of places. Yuri frowned and left to the bathroom.
When he returned Otabek was almost done cooking. A few pieces of flat bread were laid on a white plate with a blue and gold lining. Two small jars of honey and blueberry jam were open and set aside. Grey rivers of steam made their way to the ceiling in meanders before trailing off towards an open window. There was a bag of home delivery services besides the trash can near a cheap fridge, list still attached.
So Otabek and his coach just order food, instead of shopping, but I can hardly imagine Otabek with groceries on the motorcycle anyway.
A drop from his wet, blond hair fell onto Yuri’s bare foot. He stopped starring and quickly rubbed it fairly dry, then hung the towel on a chair and put on fresh socks. Then he started eating after putting jam on one of the pieces.
“Mm!” His eyes widened and his stomach squeezed at the reminder of what food feels like. After just the first bite he started to eat so fast Otabek could barely see the bread on its way to his mouth. He leaned on his hand.
“Good. You’re enjoying it.”
Yuri answered something, but it was completely muffled. Otabek passed him a cup of tea and encouraged to drink it. As it wet the food in his mouth, Yuri took a big breath and raised his voice.
“Vkusnyy!! Vat is dat?”
Otabek smiled eating his own piece he rolled like a thin pancake standing beside the stove. He didn’t say anything, but Yuri must have been too focused on eating, because he forgot to nag him to give him the name of the dish again. Once Otabek put down the last piece, he turned off the hood vent and sat next to Yuri. He looked at the honey about to drip off his shelpek. It glittered in the warm light and hesitated for a moment before falling onto the counter. Otabek looked at the drop and stopped chewing.
Why did I hesitate? Why did I not reach for gold, for the dream, just like I’m just sitting here in silence.
He wet his finger with his tongue and wiped the drop off the table then tasted it.
It’s like scavenging. Picking up after it already became an easy target.
Yuri could barely finish his third piece, but once he did after a long struggle, he let out a long yawn and stretched on the chair. Eyelashes slightly covered his eyes as he leaned forward and put his head on his folded arms at the island. He rested like this for a moment. Then he opened his eyes. His sharp gaze made Otabek look back at him.
“Vat does dream mean to you?”
“Where did that come from?”
“Just answer, oke?!” Yuri’s cheeks became red from anger again. A most adorable trait.
Otabek’s eyes stirred a little bit, but all the cheek muscles and his eyebrows remained in the same spot. How interesting that only recently he’s begun to smile at people, but at last – he actually had a friend he could do it for. He looked away for a moment. Yuri observed him from the curtain of his bangs. Otabek’s face was of a true soldier he once claimed Yuri to be. He was more down to earth, not wasting too much time on philosophy of things in skating. Maybe that was the reason why he couldn’t reach Yuri’s level. His technical perfection was admirable, but that can never be. Yuri found out about it in Hasetsu all that time ago. Maybe it was time to visit the city again.
“What we see when we sleep, what we want—”
Yuri cut him off with a wave of his hand.
He’s still zinking about most basic of definitions. He lacks novelty.
“And what if you want to become a dream?” he said after a moment of silence. His voice weak for a moment. He shook it off quickly and clasped his fist.
“Become it?” Otabek frowned.
Yuri walked away and lied on the sofa, his legs spread comfortably.
“I can’t be zinking like you.”
Otabek felt a stir in his chest, but did not make any louder sound than a controlled breath in. He waited for Yuri to explain himself.
“What Yakov doesn’t get is that I need something more than a fairly challenging program. I need something dangerous. Something that won’t let anyone in the future question my superiority.” He slammed his feet onto the floor again. “I’m more than they let me show!”
He grit his teeth, warm light drowning in his eyes as his pupil widened.
Otabek starred at him without a word. What does he see in front of him right now? What made him desire fame so strongly?
“I’ll go crazy with that won’t stop,” Yuri added his fingers digging into the seat.
Otabek looked at his own skates standing at the wall between bathroom and the entrance hall. Through the glass on the sides of the front door, he saw a cat run by turning on the motion detection lamp. It was chasing a moth, but once it caught it, it let it go, so it could play some more.
“Listening to you makes me think I could never win against you. We might not be as similar as I thought. You evolve so quickly it terrifies.” Otabek kept a faint smile on his face, still observing the cat. “But somehow I still can’t get myself to walk away from you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you since the day I saw you for the first time.”
Yuri looked away from him and stared through the window. Clouds covered the night sky, but streetlights shone in their place. The brightest, blue ones, hurt the eyes of the observer, but no yellow light could ever compare to it.
Plop! Both of their phones got a notification. Otabek looked at his, after lowering the brightness that previously hit him in the eyes. Yuri completely ignored it.
People gathered under one of the yellow lamps outside, chatting about the just announced competition results. Their excited voices slipped into the house, but Yuri couldn’t make anything out of them. It didn’t matter to him at the moment. He just kept looking between the yellow and blue lamps. The later, though brighter, seemed avoided. That wasn’t a surprise since it is the blue lights that are the most cursed at while driving, especially when the car coming from opposite direction has them.
Floor creaked as Otabek stood up.
“Maybe Yakov thinks you’ll destroy yourself, if you don’t slow down your growth,” he said walking over, his strong posture blocking out the light from Yuri’s body, putting him in deeper and darker shadow with every step he took. “Us, sportsmen, don’t have much time to make name for ourselves. Just like stars in the sky we must burn brightly, ending our lives, just to be noticed.”
“Den I need to become an explosion.” Yuri smiled, his face full of determination, then added with a chuckle. “Or like dose annoying ass blue lamps.”
Otabek smiled back at him. “That’s more like you.”
They looked at each other for a while, then clasped their hands firmly and held them together. Only then Otabek realized how hot Yuri’s skin was. He put his other hand on his forehead.
“Hey!” Yuri brushed his hand aside. “Vat do you sink you’re doing?”
“You’ve got a fever. We need to tell Yakov,” Otabek murmured as he looked through contacts on his phone. “I won’t be able to stay here with you tomorrow. I still need to compete in the free skate and make up for finishing in the fourth place.”
“Ha?” Yuri frowned. “I don’t need dat old man to babysit me.”
To confirm his words he let out a tiny, sweet sneeze.
◦