Chapter Text
"Woah, careful there." Victor gasps with a smile when Yuuri's skate slips as he attempts a forward moving arabesque, his hand latched onto Victor's bicep. Before the younger skater can as much as touch the ice with parts of his body that aren't his feet, Victor steadies him by tugging at his hand and scoops him up in his arms, their chests pressed together.
"I'm fine." Yuuri chuckles, resting his hands on Victor's hips and pulling away enough to gaze at the man's features. "You worry too much."
"It's my job as your doting husband." Victor shrugs with a smirk and leans in closer. Yuuri doesn't miss a beat in closing his eyes and resting his forehead against Victor's. "Ice dancing is different from men's singles, after all."
"I know it is." Yuuri insists, but it's soft and free of irritation. "But we've done just fine at the Grand Prix Final's exhibition. And I'm sure that we'll be amazing next time as well. But first I think we should, you know… stop looking for opportunities to make out and instead focus on practice."
"So you've seen through my intentions, huh?" Victor laughs quietly, his arm around Yuuri's waist.
"You're a wide-open book, Victor." Yuuri grins in response before pressing a lingering kiss to his husband's lips. "Though I don't exactly hate it."
Victor only smiles and brings their foreheads together once more, feeling the side of Yuuri's cool nose against his own. "I love you, too."
Victor can't see it but he can virtually feel Yuuri's pleased smile within his warm exhale against his cheek. It only takes a brief moment before he pulls him in for another kiss, this time long and slow.
They usually tend to keep their PDA down to hugs and nuzzles, since even that much grants them exasperated groans from Yurio whenever he catches sight of their unhidden expressions of love. But now that it's mid-April and all of the other skaters of the St. Petersburg ice rink have returned home for the quickly approaching Easter celebrations, neither Victor nor Yuuri hold back in showering the other with affection. Not being particularly religious, they both agreed to spend the holidays choreographing and practicing their next pair skate for the exhibition of the upcoming season. They do still have five months or so till then, but they decided to start early, taking into consideration the fact that soon enough they would be getting busy with their short and free programs and the exhibition piece would inevitably take the backseat.
The previous year they skated to a piece which depicted their meeting and finding the desire to stay with each other with striking accuracy, and this year… This year Victor commissioned yet another pair of opera singers to poetically describe the developments in their relationship – from the beginning all the way to their marriage (which would be the culmination of their performance).
They had a January wedding. It wasn't the beautiful ceremony by the seaside they originally dreamed of, but after one quick conversation they both realized that they didn't have the patience to wait till summer. After Yuuri scored gold in December's Japan Figure Skating Championships, he immediately used it to propose to Victor once more. The latter only laughed, saying he never meant the 'we'll get married once you win a gold medal' line seriously, but quickly followed it up with an enthusiastic agreement to the proposal, offering his own gold medal from the Russian Championships in exchange. With their engagement rings and medals exchanged, the middle of January was the closest available date for a civil marriage, which they took without hesitation.
It took place in Saga's register office, which admittedly wasn't the most romantic location, but it was good enough for their purposes. Yuuri's entire family, his friends, their children, Phichit and Minako-sensei all attended the ceremony and Victor ever managed to convince Yakov to fly over to Japan to celebrate with them (a choice he later admitted wasn't well thought through, considering that Yakov himself was divorced). Romantic or not, all attendees cried when the two figure skaters received their marriage certificates. The wedding reception was held in Yuutopia Hot Springs, where Chris and his boyfriend already waited for the newlyweds, apologizing for not making it to the actual ceremony due to a delay in their flight. The dinner was calm, but filled with laughter and embarrassment, most notably of the freshly married figure skaters, but not only, as Victor found it only fair to share a few stories about Chris in revenge for his speech during his toast. The celebration might have been humble but the night ended leaving all the guests satisfied and in good spirits. Most of all, Victor and Yuuri were happy, now proud husbands, overjoyed with their union to the point of disbelief that it was actually true. When it finally sunk in, their joy was beyond words.
They moved to St. Petersburg soon after their marriage. They didn't get to enjoy a relaxing honeymoon reserved for just the two of them and their intimacy, as the European Championships drew close and Victor still had elements of his performance he wanted to polish to perfection. Their honeymoon was spent on the ice rink, if it could even be described as such. But Yuuri didn't mind – he knew the schedule for the season very well and was more than aware of their priorities. He cheered for his husband louder than his entire fan club and he took some pride in thinking that this helped him win gold and thus qualify for the Worlds.
Then came more practice for Yuuri before the Four Continents Championships, which paid off, having yet another gold around his neck to prove it. Almost as soon as the two finished celebrating, they were back on the rink, putting all the remaining days into making sure their performances were flawless beyond human capabilities. And then, the Worlds came. It was a close call but Victor took gold, becoming the sixth time World Champion. Yuuri, having won silver, was disappointed with himself for longer than either of them anticipated (even though he was the one to say "No matter who wins, I still love you" before the competition even began) but once he finally picked himself up, they were as good as after the Grand Prix Final, promising to do their best in the next season all over again.
It's April now – the beginning of the off-season. The two got so used to spending most of their days on the ice to the point where going to the rink became part of their daily routine and a habit they couldn't quite kick. So they stopped trying to fight it and embraced it instead.
'Embraced' in a sense only partially different to the embrace they stand in now, taking a break from their ice dancing and enjoying their closeness, free from scrutiny of Yakov or the other skaters. They agreed that they will take some quality time off soon, perhaps spend an actual honeymoon somewhere far away from the ice, but for the moment they choose to keep going on the momentum leftover from the World Championships.
And they get to be close anyway. Especially now, with everyone gone, there are virtually no downsides to this set-up. They both think this to some degree.
"Maybe you should do that move instead?" Yuuri suggests once they finally increase the distance between them to more than a few centimeters. "I feel like you could pull it off better."
"Well, let's see." Victor lets his eyes wander around the rink in thought as he gently gets a hold of Yuuri's palms "Hold my waist and arm, alright?"
Yuuri complies, watching his husband carefully as they skate forward to gain some momentum before Victor performs the move flawlessly. Which is the same word Yuuri would use to describe 90% of Victor doing anything on ice, the 10% being the times where they learn new elements for their ice dance. He believes that the only reason Victor isn't perfect then is because he's literally never had anything to do with skating in pairs, and even then he thinks Victor does exceptionally well for someone who's only ever performed in singles. Victor always argues that he could say the same thing about Yuuri, but Yuuri still prefers to shrug it off as either luck of 'Victor's influence' rather than his own ever-evolving skills. Victor makes sure to give him the praise he deserves regardless of his excuses.
"Yeah, I think you should do the move instead." Yuuri insists once they come to a stop.
"I'm sure you could do it too, though." Victor argues. "With a little practice, it would look great."
"Well, maybe…" Yuuri admits, then shakes his head. "But no, I think this would fit you more after all. We can find something else for me."
"We'll need to find something else for you." Victor frowns briefly. "Or it'll throw the entire performance off balance."
Balance has been the one thing they made sure to keep while choreographing their exhibition program, and not simply in the obvious sense either. They always focused on presenting their relationship as balanced, equal. No strictly defined male and female roles – constantly switching between gender-typical moves instead. They were not a man and a woman after all and they would flaunt that fact during the exhibition as hard as it was possible. They were already defying the rules by skating together as a same-sex pair, even if they didn't compete. They would take it as far as it was necessary to drive the message that same-sex pairs could be equal in skill and performance to their heterosexual counterparts home. But of course political statements aren't their main intention – love is. And regardless of their personalities, their relationship is certainly balanced.
Yuuri is just as eager as Victor to present their relationship accurately. He just isn't all that familiar with choreographing programs yet. Even with his extensive research, he finds deciding which one of them should perform which elements difficult. He's more than a little glad that they still have plenty of time to choose and that Victor at least seems to know what they are doing.
"I know, I know." Yuuri sighs, nodding slowly and closing his eyes in thought. Suddenly, an idea runs through his body like a spark and he immediately straightens his back, closes his fists and turns to Victor with a grin and bright eyes. "What if we-"
His words stop as quickly as they originally appeared as Yuuri closes his mouth and shakes his head with an all but embarrassed smile. "No, that's a stupid idea."
This piques Victor's curiosity. His eyebrows twitch in interest, as he assures: "There are no stupid ideas, Yuuri. I mean, there are but you're not the type of person to ever suggest anything stupid so go ahead." He grins in turn. "Tell me."
"I mean… I was just thinking that maybe we could try a… throw jump?" Yuuri explains slowly with a light blush and a grimace – a testament to how silly he feels actually pronouncing the words out loud.
"That's not part of ice dancing, as far as I'm aware." Victor speaks firmly and knits his brows and Yuuri knows that he doesn't fancy the idea.
"I know it's not; it's pair skating. But as far as I can tell, it shouldn't be that difficult." Yuuri makes an attempt at defending himself, trying to find words to justify his suggestion. "I'm not saying we should do a throw quad flip. We could just try a… single toe loop, let's say. I mean, don't you think it would be interesting to have something like that in our performance? Everyone would be floored that we're going beyond ice dancing. Of course, we don't have to, it's just a random though after all-"
"Yuuri, relax. I'm not saying 'no'." Victor places his palm on Yuuri's cheek, stopping his partner from his occasional rambling under pressure. "Slowly now: who would do the jump? Explain the details for me."
Yuuri takes a deep breath and continues, gazing into his husband's warm blue eyes. "I guess I would? You're taller, so it would be easier for you to throw me, even if I'm stronger."
Just like with the lifts in their last ice dance, Yuuri would be the liftee rather than the lifter due to his height, rather than their physical abilities. He did try to lift Victor before and he more or less succeeded, but it was far from graceful, his husband's height forcing him to raise his arms higher, thus causing him more strain than necessary, resulting in sloppy execution. And Yuuri didn't mind being lifted, there was certainly something reassuring in being steadily held in the air by the love of his life, and there was much less stress involved, since he didn't have to worry about dropping Victor or just giving a lousy performance overall. He was happy to note that during the actual performance, the only thing he could think of was how much he loved his then fiancé and got entirely lost in the music and Victor's touch, all but completely forgetting that they were being watched by thousands of people around the world who followed the live broadcast. Yuuri liked to think that Victor's presence made the exhibition breath-taking in more ways than one.
"Then for the actual jump," Yuuri explains. "All I do is get into the position for a toe loop, and push myself off my pick like I would normally. What you do is skate behind me, lift me by the hips and add to the height of the jump. The rotation and the landing are the same as always."
"It does sound easy enough." Victor shrugs, his arms crossed on his chest - enough of a message for Yuuri to understand what will come next. "But I think it'd be dangerous for amateurs like the two of us. We've literally never done this, Yuuri, and this time there's throwing involved. I'm not sure how I feel about that."
"Yeah, I can understand your reservations." Yuuri admits with a light frown. "I know that I'm inconsistent with my jumps and I'm putting myself at a risk, but-"
"It's not about your jumps, Yuuri." Victor attempts a smile, but it doesn't help Yuuri much, considering that his voice is laced with concern. "I just don't think we'll have enough time to perfect an entirely new element, especially that soon we'll have our own short and free programs to work on."
"But we could at least try? Just once?" Yuuri insists. "If it goes really badly then we'll never do it again and stick to ice dancing, but I'd like to at least give it a shot."
Victor winces and looks at the far wall of the empty ice rink with his index finger pressed to his lips, thinking.
Yuuri can't stand the tension in the air and finally adds. "I won't pressure you into it though. You're the coach here after all and if you think that it's not a good idea then I'll understand and we'll just return to coming up with the usual choreography."
"We could try." Victor finally nods, his tone more relaxed. "It's just a single toe loop, right? You've always landed quad toes in competition, didn't you? Then there's probably no harm in trying."
"Really?" Yuuri asks hesitantly, his eyes gleaming with hope, betraying his excitement.
"Yeah." Victor smiles warmly. "Just once. Run me through what I have to do again."
"Alright." Yuuri raises the corners of his lips in agreement. He reaches for Victor's hands, places them loosely on his hips and turns around, his back resting against his torso.
"I like this already." Victor hums, leaning over his shoulder.
"Victor." Yuuri chuckles, all but shaking his head before turning it and pressing a kiss to Victor's cheek. Yuuri concludes that at this rate, the explanation will certainly take longer than usual. He doesn't hate it one bit.
When Yuuri finally gets him to understand the intricacies of throw jumps, Victor has the distinct feeling that his husband also has coach potential. He mentally notes how they could spend the rest of their lives once they choose to retire from competitive figure skating.
Now that he understands his role in the throw jump, they do a few dry runs including only the lift to make sure that Victor has an idea of how to do it properly.
"Think we're ready?" Yuuri wonders out loud.
"Yeah, let's give it a go." Victor smiles.
"Alright." Yuuri replies with the same and brings their foreheads together, momentarily closing his eyes. "I trust you."
"Glad to hear it." Victor whispers, pressing a kiss to the side of his husband's nose. He certainly values trust in their relationship. "Then, shall we?"
"Yeah." Yuuri holds Victor's hands and skates a little distance away, preparing for the run up. Suddenly, he stills, his gaze fixed on the empty space in front of him. "Wait."
"What's wrong?" Victor wrinkles his forehead.
"No, I just thought…" Yuuri lets go of his hands. "Maybe let's record it so that we can later examine what we did well and what wasn't so great?"
Victor agrees, noting that it is indeed a good idea and wondering how he didn't come up with it himself. He watches Yuuri skate to the exist, then leave the rink entirely. Yuuri picks up his phone, taps the screen a few times and finally sets it on the barrier, eternally amazed at how it is just the right thickness to keep his humble film equipment standing.
"Smile!" he calls across the rink as he begins the recording. Victor doesn't need to be told twice, even striking a pose as he waits for Yuuri to return to his side.
"Okay, let's do this." Yuuri leaves a brief kiss on Victor's lips and smiles before they begin to skate forward, gaining momentum necessary for the jump.
Everything is going perfectly fine as they take a turn by the barrier and begin skating backward with enough speed for the jump. Finally, Yuuri offers his cue. "Now!"
Victor makes sure to get into position just like they discussed, and presses his hands to his hips the moment he hears Yuuri's pick stab the ice and feels him rise in his arms.
Somehow, nothing goes right.
And it's really the one thing Victor felt so confident about that he didn't even bother thinking about it.
He lifted Yuuri properly and pushed him up into the air, all according to plan.
He never thought it would be their legs clashing mid-lift that would undo everything.
Victor skates forward, but before he can do anything, he's already watching the nightmare unfold in front of his eyes.
Victor feels like it's all in stop motion, but it's still too fast, too quick for him to react, to do something, to do anything.
The clash with Victor's leg causes Yuuri to go from the normal vertical position to horizontal with the ice. He immediately aborts the jump, attempts to save himself, arms flailing, legs searching for solid ground.
But it's not even two seconds. It's too little time, not nearly enough to find a way to land safely.
Victor watches as his husband hits the ice head first, body immediately falling limp, sliding backward, lifeless, moving only on its own inertia.
Victor can't move.
Yuuri is simply not moving, eyes open, as though watching the ceiling, lips parted as though wanting to speak.
Victor can't move.
Yuuri is not moving. Not trying to stand up, not groaning in pain, not sitting up and wincing at the weak attempt.
Victor can't move.
Yuuri is not moving.
Victor shakes his head, clenching his jaw, dreading the worst.
The first breath that leaves him is a piercing scream. "Yuuri!"
And the only thing faster than his skates on the ice as he closes the distance between them and falls to his knees is his heart, beating hard and quick against his ribcage, each pump of blood a deafening 'NO'.
"Yuuri…" Victor whispers on a shaky exhale, cupping his cheeks, seeing him blur right in front of him as tears fill his eyes. "Yuuri."
He repeats his name multiple times, a pacemaker between his uneven sobs, his eyes shut tight, his hands shaking. He leans over Yuuri's motionless face helplessly, the roaring pain in his chest pulling him close, forcing their foreheads together softly, too softly as Victor feels the need to scream again, scream into eternity.
And then he feels it. The faintest, shyest breath on his cheek. He freezes immediately, wipes his eyes with the back of his hand and watches Yuuri's features. His eyes are open in that not-seeing way, empty, his lips are open, but unmoving. But he's breathing. Victor brings his cheek close to his mouth and becomes certain – he's breathing.
"Oh, God." Victor allows himself one last sob, followed by a whisper. "Thank you."
"Okay, Yuuri." He closes his husbands eyes gently, the pounding in his chest still painful, but resounding with something new now – hope. "It'll be okay."
He knows Yuuri can't hear him. It somehow helps anyway.
Victor tries to calm himself, attempts to breathe evenly, and fails. But he focuses, does his best to clear his mind and think rationally.
He places his fingers on Yuuri's throat and moves them until he feels his pulse – the one sure proof of life still beating within him. It's somehow faint, quiet, especially compared to the thump in Victor's ears, but it's certainly there, right under his fingertips. He's alive. That one thing is confirmed. Victor allows himself a breath of relief and attempts to think of what should come next.
He immediately lets Yuuri go, remembering how dangerous it could be to touch or move anyone with head trauma. He finally forces his eyes to the ice beneath Yuuri's head, the one spot he ignored the entire time. It's clean, pristine, white as ever. There is no blood. "Okay." He breathes. "We'll be okay."
Leaning over Yuuri, he realizes that there is nothing he can do to help him, not personally, at the very least. The sense of loss and helplessness is larger than anything Victor had ever felt. Emotions well up within him – anger, fear, more tears, but he knows they're useless now. They won't help him with anything now.
So Victor swallows his tears, gets to his feet, skates over to the exit – to Yuuri's phone. He calls the ambulance, all but falls apart as they ask him to describe the situation, but manages to keep himself whole and then waits.
He sits on the ice, holds Yuuri's unnaturally cool hand and waits.
Victor was never religious.
For the first time in his life, he prays.
When they arrive at the hospital, all Victor can do is wait.
His hands clasped over his face, his elbows digging into his thighs, he sits in the waiting area.
Five minutes.
He prays. He tries his hardest to pray, but it stopped helping him a good half hour earlier. He's tired of hearing his pitiable begging echoing in his head. He just wants to know that Yuuri will be fine. Please. He doesn't know who he's asking.
Fifteen minutes.
He blames Yuuri. If he wouldn't have asked, none of this would be happening. They'd be back at the ice rink, putting together another stunning performance, hugging, kissing- The thought of holding Yuuri close and feeling his warmth brings the promise of tears to Victor's eyes. He breathes, trying to blame Yuuri, failing-
Thirty minutes.
He blames himself. It was Victor who agreed to everything after all, who didn't think how badly everything could go. It was his leg that got in Yuuri's way, threw him of balance, caused him to fall so quickly, so hard. Victor could have equally kicked him in the head and the blame would be the same. It's his own fault, his own. He hopes that Yuuri is fine, but he knows that no one who is fine needs to be taken to a hospital by an ambulance. And if there's something wrong with Yuuri, something permanently damaged… He won't ever forgive himself. No matter the hope he may hold, the thought lingers in his mind, that something is wrong, very wrong. What is taking them so long? He feels he should have an update by now, he should know something. He remains in the dark. It's darker than the passing nurses could ever imagine.
An hour.
Victor blames the universe, fate, whatever it may be that caused this. Because it didn't have to happen, it doesn't have to be their fault. It was bad luck, something, anything, but their mistake. Was Yuuri wrong to ask him to try a new move? Was Victor wrong for saying yes? Of course not. Then it must have been the bad will of the world, turning against them now, at a vulnerable time. Victor curses whatever he could think of – the skates, the ice, something, anything that will help him get the rage out of his system.
He paces the tiled floor now, tired of sitting, tired of standing, tired of being apart from Yuuri, only wanting to see him, only wanting to hear something, anything about his husband's condition. It's been over an hour; what is taking them so long? They should know what's wrong with him now, in which case, they should come and report their findings. They know Victor is the spouse, they've performed a thorough interview in the ambulance. But none of the passing nurses know anything about Yuuri and Victor can only thank them for their time with a sigh and without enthusiasm.
Then finally, finally Victor spots the doctor who had taken Yuuri in when they arrived in the ambulance and runs to him, his footsteps echoing clear and loud in the large corridor.
"What is Yuuri's condition? How is he doing?" Victor asks the balding, middle-aged man in glasses immediately.
When the doctor gives him a once-over with a doubting gaze, and Victor immediately raises his right hand with the most formal proof of their relationship he has on him now. "Spouse. Victor Nikiforov. Please, I need to know."
The man seems to remember Victor and his eyes relax, his expression remaining rigid, uninterested regardless. "There is good news." He announces in a monotone voice that is all too slow for Victor's urgency. "He is not in a coma."
Thank God.
"There is also no damage to his spinal cord and apart from his head, he had sustained no injury." The man continues.
Thank God.
"And there is no major damage to the brain." He concludes.
Thank… wait.
A certain word catches Victor's attention, preventing the breath of relief from rising from his lungs.
"Major? So there is minor damage? What sort of damage? How will it affect him?" He attacks the doctor with questions as weapons.
"We aren't entirely certain yet. The scans don't suggest anything dangerous or life-altering but we will only be able to examine the extent of the damage once he wakes up." The man explains, slowly, calmly. Too slowly, too calmly for Victor's taste. "We have just administered drugs that will wake him up. If you-"
"Can I see him?" Victor desperately asks the one question that sat on the tip of his tongue for the past hour. "Can I be there when he wakes up? Can I take part in the examination?"
"I was just about to say that it would be better for him to see a familiar face. And you, Mr. Nikiforov, will most likely be able to tell first if he is acting unusually." The man insists, his monotone voice almost irritated, or perhaps that is only the impression Victor gets from his tired expression. "Please, follow me."
Victor does so without hesitation, remaining half a step in front of the doctor despite not knowing where they are heading. When the man finally stops before one of the doors and presses its handle, Victor is the first person in the room. It contains three beds, but only one of them is occupied. He rushes over, pulls up a chair and sits as close to Yuuri as it is physically possible.
His husband is not yet awake, but no longer unconscious, now looking the way he usually does in his sleep. Victor can't control himself. He holds Yuuri's palm and lifts it to his cheek. It's warm now; alive, and okay. Tears gather in his eyes as he watches Yuuri breathe in his usual rhythm with his usual strength. "Yuuri."
And slowly, Yuuri wakes, his features coming to life in a growing wince, his eyelids finally fluttering open. His brown eyes, so lifeless before, appear tired and dull, but alive, alive and well. Victor gasps when he looks at him, relief flooding his body.
"Where am I?" he asks, understandably confused.
"Hospital, St. Petersburg." Victor offers him the basic information before posing a question of his own. "How do you feel?"
"My head hurts." Yuuri admits, squinting his eyes in pain. "What happened?"
"You… had an accident." Victor finds it difficult to pronounce out loud, unable to offer him any details. "What's your name?"
Yuuri knits his brows, more in surprise than anything. "Yuuri Katsuki." His mind catches up with the intentions behind the question. "My parents run a hot springs resort called Yuutopia Katsuki. My sister's name is Mari. Hometown: Hasetsu, Kyushu, Japan."
"How old are you?" Victor asks anyway, wanting to be more than sure that Yuuri still knows all the basics about himself.
"Twenty-four. Will turn twenty-five in November this year." He replies with a few blinks.
Victor nods and takes a breath of relief.
"He knows who he is. That's good, isn't it?" Victor turns to the doctor who until now watched their exchange in silence. The man nods and takes notes on the clipboard he had brought along. He urges Victor on. "Please, feel free to continue."
Victor doesn't know what other questions to ask so he only smiles, stroking down Yuuri's hand with his thumb. "I'm so glad you're okay, Yuuri."
"So am I, I suppose." Yuuri laughs nervously, his gaze falling to his lap. "And you are? My interpreter…?"
Victor blinks, smiles in disbelief, shakes his head. "Not funny, Yuuri. It's not time for such jokes. You don't even know how worried I was."
"I'm sorry." Yuuri apologizes, but it's somehow different to how he usually says it, more stiff, forced. "But I really don't recognize you. Have we met before?"
Victor actually laughs – a short, strained laugh. Yuuri can't be serious. "Victor Nikiforov? Six time world champion of figure skating?" He suggests.
"Oh." Yuuri spares him a longer glance before bringing his eyes back to his lap. "I feel quite embarrassed for not knowing someone from our sport with such great achievements. It's really weird, actually. I should have at least heard of you…"
Yuuri rambles, now lost, not doubting Victor's words, simply confused at how he doesn't seem to know someone who must be so famous. But that is not Victor's concern. Before he can voice it, Yuuri speaks again. "And… may I ask why the six time champion is visiting me in the hospital after an accident?"
Yuuri glances around the room, hoping to find someone else that could answer his question.
Victor shakes his head, lips parted, eyes wide open.
You know the answer.
"Because I'm your husband?" he offers him the fact that should be obvious with a breaking voice, raising his right hand so that Yuuri can clearly see the gold ring.
Yuuri gapes at it for a moment, then turns his eyes away with a sad smile. "I'm sorry, I think you're confusing me for someone else, Mr. Nikiforov. I don't recall ever being married."
In a single sentence, Victor's world is shattered.
An unforgettable banquet, a hot springs resort, a strict training regimen, the Grand Prix Series, the Final, their ice dance, the Nationals, their apartment in St. Petersburg, the Worlds, the long hours on the ice rink, tens upon tens of kisses, hundreds of hugs, thousands of tender touches and gentle words and love, two gold rings, a silver medal, two gold medals, a marriage certificate, a wedding, a happy life together…
All undone by one bad throw.
An entire year, gone in a matter of seconds.
There have to be limits to unfairness, Victor thinks bitterly.
"Come on, Yuuri. You remember me, don't you?" he attempts with a smile, despite the tears pooling in his eyes. "I was your coach last season. You remember me, right?"
Victor squeezes his hand, hoping to make him remember somehow and Yuuri only pulls his hand away in fear.
Victor doesn't try to catch it.
His heart breaks.
"Celestino was my coach. I'm really sorry, I really think you've got the wrong person." He doesn't even look at Victor as he speaks, scooting further away from him on the mattress.
In one moment in his arms, in another falling out of his reach, never to be touched again.
It hurts too much, even for Victor's standards.
Stranger, idol, coach, friend, more-than-friend, lover, fiancé, husband, stranger.
Stranger.
Stranger.
Victor doesn't even try to contain his tears.
Yuuri who admired him since he was twelve years old, fell in love with him when he was twenty-three, married him at twenty-four now acts like they've never as much as spoken.
There must be a limit to the world's cruelty.
"I love you, Yuuri." Victor pronounces quietly – his last, desperate attempt at making Yuuri remember - and watches the horror unfold before his eyes: Yuuri shaking his head, turning his face away, wincing in disgust.
Victor wishes he could hit his head and forget everything, too.
It would be better than this.
So much better than this.