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The little house seemed to smile down at Viktor as he pulled up into the driveway. It was a small two story, painted a pale yellow, trimmed with white columns and shutters. ‘Sturdy, and stable’ thought Viktor, letting his gaze wander over the front garden. It was just as he remembered it, and everything he had hoped for when he had began his search last winter. He turned to the backseat, “What do you think? Isn’t it perfect Yuri?”
Pale blue eyes glowered at him from a curtain of hair. They flicked to the house, and then back to Viktor as the teen assessed their new living arrangements. “It’s fine.” The words came out strained as he buried his hands into Makkachin’s fur. He could see the boy trying to hold back his usual bite, clouding his normally harsh expression with indifference. Yuri flung the door open, escaping his guardian’s stare, and rounded to the back of the car; the large poodle trailing after him.
The silver haired man sighed, following the blond to the trunk and opening it. They gathered two suitcases each to lug into the house. Silence stretched between them as they carried their possessions little by little from the car. The tension built into a palpable fury underneath the thin veil of calm Yuri kept around his person. Viktor wondered for the thousandth time that day if he had made the right decision in moving Yuri here; if he was doing something good in a change of scenery, or merely satisfying his own wants.
Taking Yuri away from his comfort zone didn’t seem to faze him in the months prior to moving day, but it had occurred to Viktor in the past week that he was merely trying to mask over his insecurity. Keeping a strong façade as the year before faded into months, then weeks, until just a few days ago Viktor detected a crack of uncertainty in the young boy’s attitude whenever they talked about moving. A notion that had taken form on a whim a few months before Viktor had decided to retire.
It was the winter of his last season when Viktor had jokingly asked Yuri about his thoughts on training in the United States. The boy shrugged, “It wouldn’t be an awful idea. They have rinks just like any other place.” He said absently, tapping away at his phone. Viktor had laughed, but the neutral response had rolled around in his mind for days after. It wasn’t long before he began to look at different cities on the web. Each photo built up a domestic fantasy in his mind. The idea of trying something new, and immersing himself somewhere unknown to him thrilled Viktor to no end.
When Yuri began to voice complaints of being bored with his programs, Viktor saw it as an opportunity to bring the subject up once again. At breakfast one morning he asked Yuri, “If you had the choice to move to the U.S. where we would continue your training, give you a change of scenery, maybe some inspiration, would you be opposed to it?” He stared intently across the table as Yuri paused, a forkful of eggs hovering over his plate.
“I would say it would be stupid to move in the middle of training.” He started.
Viktor’s heart sank a little, but he pressed. “And if we waited until the end of the season?”
He held his breath as Yuri seemingly pondered the notion. “Then it wouldn’t matter,” He stated finally “So long as we picked up where we left off.”
A grin split Viktor’s face, and that was that.
Viktor and Yuri managed to get what they had crammed into the car settled into their respective rooms, and now they had to wait until that evening for the remainder of their belongings to arrive in the moving van.
Little meaningless tasks kept Viktor busy until he dared to go and talk to Yuri, but sweeping nonexistent dust off the floor could only keep him rooted so long. With an idea in mind he searched for one box in particular. When he found what he was looking for he walked up the stairs, each footfall thumping against the floorboards with his ascent. Yuri was in the bedroom at the end of the hallway, rooting for a minute through a box before discarding it among the others once again. Viktor slipped a hopeful smile on his face and cleared his throat, gaining Yuri’s attention, and held up both of their skates.
“Want to go to the rink?”
___
Yuuri Katsuki let his mind wander as he skated lazily around the rink. It had been months since he retired and months since he had last spoken to his family. The crushing thought of their disappointment, however unlikely, weighed heavily on his mind. After losing at the grand prix final he threw himself into teaching a children’s figure skating class; unable to break ties completely with such a large part of his life. But as bills had piled up he had to find a second job to support himself, and so with the help of his old coach pulling a string here and there and persuasive recommendations, he would start working as a physical education instructor at one of the local high schools.
The sound of his skates cutting across the ice soothed the spike of anxiety he had at the thought of teaching a full class of strangers. At least at the rink he had seen most of his students while he was still training for competition. It was less starting anew with something different, and more doing what he loved with people he saw nearly every day. It was a comfort in his downward spiral of insecurity.
He was the only one in the rink at the moment, and he was somewhat grateful for that. He could let himself mope while he tried to clear his head before his evening class showed up. A deep sadness always seemed to target him in the hours before and after his students distracted him with their excitement. He sighed in relief at the thought of being able to think in his own company, but his short lived solace was dashed as he heard the doors open with a creak of its hinges. It was just his luck; he thought at least, that as soon as he was comfortable for the day something would come and alter it. ‘No matter’ he thought casting his gaze down to his feet. ‘It’s not like I can’t keep to myself.’
The newcomers spoke amongst themselves as they stretched a bit, warming up before putting on their skates and stepping onto the ice. Yuuri focused on his foot placement, avoiding any sort of non verbal interaction whatsoever. But one of the voices sounded so familiar to him, and it bothered him that he couldn’t place where he had heard it before. After trailing in front of them for a while he tried to sneak a small glance behind himself, only catching sight of fluttering blond hair before he averted his gaze.
Deciding that he would be caught trying to look back, Yuuri picked up his pace to skate alongside the opposite end of the rink. When he looked across the cold expanse his breath caught in his throat. The slim figure of his idol, Viktor Nikiforov, skated alongside a teen with a bob of blond hair. An easy grin played on Viktor’s lips as he spoke to the younger male, the latter seeming to answer in short quips before breaking away from him. Leaving the taller man to watch after him as the distance between them grew. Yuuri couldn’t stop staring, even as the teen passed him with a bitter look, his eyes were fixed onto Viktor as he continued to skate.
The silver haired man seemed to feel the intensity of Yuuri’s awed expression; he turned and looked directly at Yuuri, as if he knew exactly who he was. The former skater felt his hear stop for a moment. The smile on Viktor’s face sent a jolt of electricity through Yuuri’s body, one that seemed to grow as Viktor raised a hand in greeting. Two words slipped easily through the air, “Commemorative photo?”
Yuuri felt his face burn, turning scarlet under the intense blue of Viktor’s gaze. He turned from the Russian, nearly fumbling on the ice, and hurried the remainder of the distance to exit the rink. He kept his eyes on his feet as he retrieved his things from a nearby locker, tossing off his skates and shoving his shoes on, leaving them loosely tied as he bolted toward the main doors; his heart beat wildly in his chest and disappointed thoughts raced through his head.
Of course Viktor wouldn’t recognize him as a competitive skater. They were both in the senior division, but that didn’t mean they had ever been in the same league. He wasn’t even close to being someone that Viktor would notice when he was competing. He had failed, he had quit, and he was no one.
The hot summer sun warmed Yuuri’s skin as he began jogging toward home, but the sight of Viktor was burned into his mind. ‘I should go back’ he thought. ‘My class will be there in a couple of hours.’ He reasoned. But Yuuri couldn’t make himself turn around. He’d always dreamed of meeting Viktor. Of being his equal, and maybe, just maybe surpassing him one day. But he never wanted to see him while he was so down on himself, when all he could ever see himself as was a failure.