Chapter Text
Victor knew that bracelet. The neon pink one that clung loosely to Yuri's wrist. He knew because he'd seen Yakov put it on older skaters when he was a teen. But not all of them. No, just the ones with the fake smiles and covered arms and bruised bodies. The ones like Yuri.
The bracelets were the kind that you put on and have to cut off when you're done with them. They are made to stay on for a long time. They're the ones summer camps use to identify who is a swimmer or a non swimmer. Waterproof, made of some fabricky paper.
They were pink. Bright pink. Made to be seen, but not really questioned. They were a way of identifying.
It held significance.
The bracelet made Victor scared for the younger Russian.
As Yuuri went out for his six minute warm up on the ice with the rest of Group 2, Victor sidled closer to his former coach, careful to keep a free eye on his skater.
"Yakov, how long?" Victor asked in a low voice. The older man didn't look at him, just kept his eyes trained on Yuri.
"You noticed, did you?" Yakov said. Victor didn't reply, just waited for his answer.
Yakov sighed sadly. "We found scabs and scars on his arms during practice last week. I don't know how long he's been doing it. At least a week."
Victor nodded glumly. He'd worried about Yuri for a long time. The teen was too hard on himself, and he took that out on other people around him. It was something Victor had seen take down many skaters. All some had to show for it was a funeral, leaving friends and families to wonder why.
Victor learned early on to not make a habit of ignoring his needs, especially his mental ones. After his own close call and a pink bracelet, Victor learned to keep an eye on his thoughts and actions, in turn watching his fellow skaters more carefully as well. During the last competition, Victor had realized that, had Yuuri been coached under Yakov, he would have been put in a pink bracelet too.
"How is he doing?" Victor asked. He smiled inwardly, watching as Yuuri landed a jump perfectly.
Fine, but I won't say better. He's never alone accept at night when he refuses to have a 'babysitter'."
"And no more marks?"
"Not really. Sometimes we'll catch him with his nails ripping at skin, but... it doesn't do much damage to him physically."
"But mentally?"
"He has outright refused to talk to anyone. And he has made it impossible for me or Lilia to contact his grandfather." Yakov's frown deepened at the sight of Yuri falling and crashing hard into the ice. The six minutes were almost up.
"I'll do it. He won't expect me to try." Victor offered. Yakov looked at him finally in surprise.
"And why would you do that?" Yakov asked. "He is your skater's competition."
"Because, Yakov, I've been there..." Victor watched as the skaters headed off of the rink. "Or have you forgotten?"
Victor walked away then, joining Yuuri and leaving the room to wait in the warm up area. They were silent as Yuuri began stretching and Victor took out his phone. A second and it was buzzing with a text from his former coach.
-Here is the number. Be discreet about it. Have better luck than we did
Victor typed out a quick reply before tapping Yuuri's shoulder. When the younger man looked up, Victor made a quick motion that he'd be back before tapping on the link to the number. Yuuri nodded and resumed stretching.
Viktor figured the best place would be the stairwell to the parking garage beneath the rink. Standing a floor down in the dim, chilly stairwell, he waited as the phone rang.
A moment and a voice on the other end was greeting him. "Hello?"
"Hi. Is this Nikolai Plisetsky?" Victor replied.
"Yes, this is he. Who is this?"
"This is Victor Nikiforov. I'm calling in regards to your grandson, Yuri." Victor leaned against the concrete wall behind him, his stomach feeling as if it were quivering.
"What happened to him? Is he alright?" Nikolai's voice became rushed, worry evident in his tone.
"He's safe, I promise. Yakov would have called about this, but Yuri is insistent that you not find out."
"Find out about what?" Nikolai asked, seeming to lose a little bit of patience.
"Yuri has been hurting himself." Victor let his head fall back gently against the wall. He wanted to sink down to the ground and hold his knees as tightly as he could. Lord, and he thought he could do this...
"How?"
"Mr. Plisetsky, Yuri has been cutting himself."
"What?! Why?! He's a good boy, why would he do such a thing?" Victor had to hold the phone away from his ear slightly at the volume of the old man's voice.
"I... I don't know, Mr. Plisetsky. You'll have to ask him that. For now, though, he is fine. Yakov has been keeping him under close supervision. I suggest you wait to bring this up to Yuri until this competition is over tomorrow." Victor said, willing his voice to stay calm.
Nikolai sighed deeply. "I suppose you're right. I will talk to him. Thank you for telling me, Victor."
"I hope he opens up to you."
"Me too. Goodbye." Nikolai sighed again.
"Bye." Victor pulled his phone away from his cheek and clicked ended the call. He sucked in a deep, shuttering breath, running a hand through his hair.
He began making his way back up the stairs, missing how a small dark shadow hid quickly behind a corner on his way out the door. Back in the waiting room, Victor took up a place next to Yuuri, who gave him a questioning look.
"Victor, what was that about?" Yuuri asked, taking an earbud out.
"Nothing. I'll tell you later."
Yuuri stared for a moment before shrugging it off and went back to his stretches. Victor's eyes drifted across the room where Yuri had just come in and placed himself on a bench beside his coach. Vaguely, he wondered why Yuri had been gone and why he'd been alone. The look on Yakov's face seemed to ask the same question.