Chapter Text
Viktor Nikiforov... What was he to Yuri? A fellow skater? A role-model? A friend? No, all of those words were too simple, too one dimensional. Viktor wasn't simply a person to Yuri, Viktor was part of his life, everything he did, he did for Viktor. A single word of praise was all he skated for, a nod of acknowledgment was all he craved, Viktor was all Yuri Plisetsky wanted.
Which was why finding out that Viktor had gone to Japan had stricken the young Russian teen harder than anything else, it hurt more than the wound of any knife, like a dull throb coursing along his veins. He had looked up to Viktor his whole life, the elder man had promised to choreograph a program for Yuri, Yuri was going to win with that program... He was going to make Viktor proud. His plans were shattered now, broken into pieces. But they were big pieces, with a bit of work, he could pick them up and put them back together. He could fix this.
Yakov warned him against it, or that's a euphemism, he threatened Yuri with harsh and annoyed words. About how this would set him back on training, how he would return alone, how Viktor would have to grow out of whatever faze this was. But Yuri didn't listen, his mind was clouded, his ticket was booked, he was going to Japan.
Viktor had taken the year off from skating. He had taken it off to coach. The thought would've made the blond teenager laugh in disgust if it didn't bring a throb to his heart. Jealousy, anger, hurt... Too many emotions to store themselves inside of him. He had gone all the way to Japan in search of that skater who had came dead last at the Grand Prix competition. He was an embarrassment, a loser, and somehow, he had also managed to capture Viktor's attention. Viktor who had always seemed so unattainable. A proud figure, somebody who was so superior to everybody else in an almost godly fashion, was lending himself out to a failure.
He had forgotten about Yuri, left him for another... Yuuri Katsuki. The fact that Yuri shared a name with him was an embarrassment. Yuuri was fat, ugly, talentless, a loser, while Yuri was beautiful, graceful, a prodigy, he won. And he would get Viktor back, he would get his program and he would proceed to prove himself as one of the best skaters out there.
But before all this happened, he first needed to get to Japan.
With a popped hood and an expression that seemed to harshly portray his dislike for the world, he boarded a plane, shoving past a few slow people and getting to his seat, which happened to be right next to an elder lady who held a small book in her hands. She looked nice enough, but Yuri was in no mood to chat, elder or not, so the minute he sat down, he placed his earphones in and turned away. If she said anything, it went unheard by the young male. Soon enough, his eyes closed over and the darkness of unconsciousness took over.
'Good job, Yuri.' A word of congratulations, something that Yuri strived to hear. The young boy, at an age where he should still be playing with toys and running from girls, skated over to the side of the ice rink, where two taller figures were standing.
Even as a young boy, his bright green eyes held a mature pride to them, and also a greed, a greed to be the best. He had just finished practicing a new program, and the adrenaline was still pumping through him. Though his chest was still rising and falling with near-exhaustion, he expression told it all, he had nailed it, it was perfect and he knew it. Yuri was a star, a prodigy, he was the one who was envied by some twice his age simply for his sheer amount of promise. Yuri looked up to nobody, except for his grandfather and... One of the men standing in front of him.
Viktor Nikiforov. A teenager at the time. Long silver hair was tied up neatly into a ponytail, though his lips were hidden from where he had been burying his nose into the high collar of his jacket, his ice-like eyes smiled.
"You're getting better every day." Yakov spoke, continuing from his earlier praise. Yuri nodded, a disinterested action of thanks. His eyes were still trained onto Viktor. After a couple of moments, the beautiful teenager finally straightened up, freeing his mouth to speak. "Keep it up, Yuri. I expect to see you in many competitions soon." He spoke. Words simple, yet somehow more encouraging than anything Yakov could tell him. At the time, Viktor was untouchable, he was a senior skater that Yuri could only watch from the bleachers, being talked to like this was every young skater's dream. After all, even as a teenager Viktor was a legend. But before Yuri could reply, there was a sudden,
Ding
His eyes shot open, shock glazing over the emerald orbs before they settled into a cautious calmness. Right, the airplane... The seatbelt sign had just gone up, they were about to land. Yuri was about to bring Viktor home.