Chapter Text
“Just be careful, Yuri,” Victor said with a laughing grin, “we know where all this food is going to end up.”
He poked a teasing finger into Yuri’s side, where in sank in further than it had any right to, poking into fat and flab. Yuri froze, the fork in his mouth, the restaurant’s food suddenly tasting like ash and disappointment. He looked at the plate in front of him, almost empty now, and was intensely aware of how much he’d just eaten. He was going to end up a fat pig again, too fat for Victor to want to skate, too fat for Victor to want.
Across the table, Yurio and Mila continued their discussion about their respective programs, apparently oblivious to the conversation between Yuri and Victor. Around them, the other diners shared meals and conversations, no one paying the slightest bit of attention to the group of skaters at the corner table. Still, Yuri felt like he was standing in a spotlight. A spotlight that cast every curve and roll of his body into stark relief.
“Yuri?” Victor said, concern starting to replace the teasing tone. Yuri forced himself to swallow the mouthful of food and set down his fork.
“It’s alright,” Yuri said. “I was getting pretty full anyway. I guess I’ll go for a longer run than usual tomorrow before practice.”
But a run wasn’t going to cut it. He could feel his stomach, swollen and huge with the amount of food they’d just eaten. It was restaurant food too, probably cooked with loads of fat and oil. It had tasted so good because it was full of calories. He could run for miles and probably burn off only a single mouthful.
He needed to do something quickly, before he ended up the disgusting mess he’d been after his first Grand Prix.
“Excuse me,” Yuri said, pushing up from the table and hurrying to the restaurant’s bathroom before Victor could say anything else. There were three stalls inside and Yuri checked them all to make sure they were empty before shutting himself in one and dropping to his knees in front of the toilet. His stomach was already churning with disgust, nausea rising at the thought of so much food. He barely needed to stick his fingers to the back of his throat before he was vomiting up everything he’d just eaten.
The vomit burned his throat, chunks of meat and vegetable pouring out of his mouth. He coughed and half-choked on a mouthful of undigested dinner and then he was vomiting again. He watched the food hit the bowl of the toilet, splattering up the sides, and wondered if it was enough, how much he’d got out of everything he’d just eaten. It didn’t look like enough. He’d stuffed himself like a pig. It wouldn’t do to stop while he still had half a feast in his stomach ready to add layers of fat to his torso and thighs.
He stuck his fingers into his mouth again. They were already splattered with vomit and that helped set off the next wave of retching vomit.
“Are you throwing up in here?” a voice asked. Yuri hadn’t heard the door opening over the sound of his purge.
Yuri coughed out a last acidic mouthful and froze, face heating with the shame at being caught. He was an idiot, doing this somewhere so public.
Yurio’s face appeared beneath the cubical door. Yuri started to shake. He was caught. Yurio would tell everyone and now the world would know how little self-control Yuri had. They’d know he was a disgusting pig who couldn’t be trusted not to stuff himself, who could only stay in shape to skate by throwing up.
“Have you got food poisoning or something?” Yurio asked. “If it’s making you sick, we should go deal with the chef. There’s no way we should be paying.”
“It’s not... It’s not food poisoning,” Yuri said. He had to say it, because Yuiro’s way of dealing with the chef would probably involve kicking him across the kitchen and then either someone would get hurt or Yurio would get arrested or both. Yuri couldn’t let an innocent person get beaten to a pulp because of his weakness.
“Then what’s going on?” Yurio asked. He peered up at Yuri from his awkward, crouched position, frowning when he saw the vomit smears on Yuri’s fingers. “Did you make yourself sick?”
Yuri looked away. His eyes, which had been watering from the puking, started to fill with tears properly. He didn’t want to get caught trying in a bathroom by Yurio twice, but he couldn’t make the tears go away. Yurio obviously took that as an answer.
“Why the hell would you do something so stupid?” he demanded.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal? What the hell are you talking about? Of course it’s a big deal!” Yurio’s voice rose to a shout.
“Please, just go back to the table.”
“Does Victor know you’re doing this? Did he call you fat again? Is that why you’re doing this?”
“It’s not like Victor’s the only one who’s called me fat. You call me a pig more often than you use my name.” Yuri couldn’t stop the tears flowing. They ran down his cheeks, just another sign of his weakness.
“That’s not...” Yurio seemed lost for words for possibly the first time. It took him a few moments to find the words to continue. “That’s because I hated you. Victor should be better. No one should insult their boyfriend. If he calls you fat again, you should punch him in the face, kick him in the crotch, and then dump his ass.”
“That’s... a bit extreme,” said Yuri.
“No. It’s not. You shouldn’t just take the shit people throw at you. Stand up for yourself, moron, and don’t let your boyfriend call you stuff like that.”
“Even if it’s true?”
“True?” Yurio looked like he wanted to kick down the stall door and throttle him. “How could you think it’s true?”
“Just... look at me.”
“Don’t make me say it, Yuri,” Yurio growled out.
“Say what?”
“You’re not fat! OK! Happy now?” He looked like that statement pained him to say.
“You’re just saying that to be nice.”
“WHEN HAVE I EVER BEEN NICE?!” Yurio screamed. He continued at a normal volume, “You’re annoying and you can’t land a quad flip twice in a row and you making goo-goo eyes at Victor across the rink makes me want to puke, but you’re not fat. You got that?”
Yuri nodded, but only because he thought Yurio would yell at him again if he didn’t. Yuri knew what he was, knew that he wasn’t in the same shape as the other skaters, knew that one little slip-up was all it would take for him to be a disgusting mess again.
He heard the bathroom door open again and then Victor’s voice said, “It’s been getting noisy in here. Is everything alright?”
Yurio stood up and Yuri could only kneel by the toilet at the thought that Victor, of all people, was about to see him as he really was.
“You broke your boyfriend,” Yurio growled. “Fix him or I’ll fix you and if you ever call him fat again I will strip the skin from your flesh and turn it into my next costume. Got it?”
There was the sound of footsteps retreating and the door opening and closing once again. Yuri stayed where he was, frozen in fear and shame, aware that only a thin, cubical door was between him and Victor.
“Yuri?” Victor asked, voice full of concern. “What’s going on? I broke you?”
“Yurio’s just being dramatic. It’s fine. I’m fine. Go back to the table.”
“Yuri, what happened?”
Yuri hated the sound of all that love and concern in his tone, because he knew that the moment Victor saw what was really going on, all that love would turn to disgust. Yuri knew that would kill him.
“Why was Yurio talking about me calling you fat?” Victor asked. There was movement on the other side of the cubical door but Yuri didn’t dare turn to look. He faced the toilet rather than seeing Victor’s face where Yurio’s had been a moment before.
“Yuri,” Victor said, “were you making yourself ill?”
“I just ate too much too quickly,” Yuri said. “That’s all. Please, go back to the table. I’ll be out soon.”
“I’m not going to leave until you open this cubical door.”
Yuri was trapped. There was no way out of this except to try and downplay it. Maybe he could claim food poisoning; it wasn’t like Victor would beat up the chef.
He used toilet paper to wipe his hands and mouth and then dried his tears, hoping against hope that he might look vaguely normal when he walked out. He flushed the toilet and stepped out into the main bathroom, walking past Victor to the sinks. He couldn’t look his boyfriend in the eye.
“Yuri,” Victor said, whispering his name like a prayer. Yuri just ran some water and rinsed his mouth out, before scrubbing his hands thoroughly with soap. “Did you make yourself sick because I joked about you gaining weight?”
“It’s nothing, Victor,” Yuri said. “I told you. I just ate too fast.”
“Yuri, you are a terrible liar. I’m sorry.”
“Forget about it. It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing!” For a moment, Yuri thought Victor might start yelling like Yurio had, but instead, he making a choking sound. When Yuri dared risk a glance at Victor’s reflection, he saw tears on his cheeks. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say. I didn’t mean... I’m sorry.”
Yuri couldn’t stand seeing Victor cry. He wanted to comfort his boyfriend, to reassure him that this wasn’t his fault, that this was all Yuri’s weakness, but admitting that felt like exposing himself to scrutiny that would destroy any respect Victor had for him. There was no way out of this conversation that was good. Yuri’s own tears started up again.
The bathroom door opened. For a moment, a strange man stood there, watching the two of them crying at each other.
“I’ll come back,” the man said and backed out of the bathroom.
“Can we not do this here?” Yuri asked. “Not in public.”
“OK.” Victor nodded. He grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser and wiped his eyes with it. “OK. I’ll pay our bill and we’ll go home. We can talk there.”
Yuri nodded. He didn’t want to talk there either, but at least the walk back to Victor’s apartment would give him some time to think about how to explain this.