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Yuuri waits for the scores go up, tongue caught between his teeth and heart pounding, breath caught somewhere in his throat. Yakov is nearby, clicking his tongue at Yurio for one thing or another, but Yuuri sits alone in the kiss and cry, because Yakov didn’t think it was right of him to take Viktor’s place there.
Yuuri had silently agreed with him.
His performance had been worse than China, but he is only somewhat aware of that as they finish calculating and he waits for the number to pop up on the scoreboards, glasses quickly scrambled to be put on once he realized Viktor wouldn’t be there to read him the score. An ache throbs in his chest at the thought, fingers itching desperately to pull the phone from his pocket and call the only person who he wants to hear from right now. He resists.
Viktor would want him to do this, he tells himself in lieu of dialing a familiar number, breathing are you okay, are you okay, down the line. To be there the moment his scores go up and smile and wave and enjoy the excitement of the competition and the thrill of placing, even though it’s the absolute last place Yuuri wants to be right now.
Because he doesn’t want to be alone in the kiss and cry box. To be thinking about how desperately he wants a warm hug, a smile, some outrageous gesture of pride and love, an excited murmur in his ear reading the number off the scoreboard. To not be facing the cameras with the smile he’s trying his best to maintain when all he can think is how cold the foot of bed is going to be without Makkachin.
But Viktor has been protecting Yuuri from the media all this time, and Yuuri can’t help but think that it’s his turn to keep the cameras off Viktor during such a difficult time, to diffuse the theories as to why his coach isn’t at his side so that Viktor wouldn’t have to deal with them later.
Yuuri musters his strength. Brightens his smile. Adjusts his glasses as the scores are released.
It’s time for him to read his own scores off the board for once, to send his strength back to Japan where he knows Viktor needs it more than him right now. His scores are suddenly less important; he’s only half present, enough to keep up the pleasant façade while his bides his time until he can take a phone call.
He’s the last contender today, so his score decides whether or not he’s going to the grand prix right then and there, its significant, but Yuuri can’t bring himself to be worried about beating the other skaters, not when he had other concerns that took precedence in his mind right now.
The numbers stare back at him, and he registers with a sort of distant surprise that he scored higher than he had in the Cup of China. It’s only a few points difference, probably due to his improved performance on the short program, but he gives a cheer nonetheless, pleasing the cameras even though his heart weighs in his chest like a stone.
He’s in third place; he’s going to the Grand Prix final, but right now it doesn’t feel like much of a success.
Loud, he thinks approximately fifteen minutes later as he taps his fingers against the cell phone in his pocket, answering another question shouted at him about Viktor with a kind, blank-faced evasion, using it to springboard onto another topic like he’d seen Viktor do a hundred times. It didn’t work quite as well for him, but he figured if he did it enough, maybe they would—
Bzzt, bzzt—
Yuuri jumps at the interview stand, and they give him curious looks as he raises his hands apologetically, slipping his phone out and being careful to keep the caller ID facing himself.
“Ah, I’m so sorry, but this is important, I have to take it, it’s my family—” He shoots them another remorseful smile, before leaving the stand and fumbling with shaking hands to slide the screen open, tucking himself into a corner a little ways off where it’s a bit quieter. Yurio makes his way over, having batted the reporters off like flies and left Yakov and Lila to deal with them, standing a few steps in front of Yuuri, just out of earshot, growling like an animal at anyone who tries to get close. Yuuri tries to make a note somewhere in his rattled mind to thank the fifteen-year-old later.
He presses the phone to his ear with a sharp inhale, the static crackle making his stomach churn.
“Viktor?” He breathes softly, grip on the phone going tighter, curling in just the slightest as though it’ll make hearing his response any easier. He can’t hear the bustle around him anymore, just the shifting movement of someone on the end of the line. The dread grows, wrapping tendrils around his lungs and squeezing the air out of him in a sharp exhale as the silence continues for another beat.
“Yuuri,” Viktor starts, just an exhale of his name, before pausing for a moment, and Yuuri swallows before Viktor continues, “you did amazing.” His voice is quiet and hoarse, the words barely whispered into the receiver without excitement or cheer. Yuuri’s heart cracks, feeling the distance between the two of them manifest as a physical ache in his stomach and the way his fingers numb from holding the phone too tightly. He squeezes his eyes shut with a quick breath as Viktor says, “A beautiful performance—”
“I’m so sorry, Viktor.” Yuuri says thickly, letting the emotion ruin his voice, a quiet way of saying you aren’t alone, even if I’m not there, you aren’t alone—
Viktor goes silent for a moment, before Yuuri catches the shuddering inhale that breaks the static with the whisper of heartache. “Nonsense, Yuuri!” It’s all forced cheer and broken bravado, too loud and strained, he can visualize the mask Viktor is trying to put back together, pushing broken pieces together with too much force—
“We should be celebrating!” Viktor’s voice cracks on the final word, like even his throat knows how wrong it sounds to say that right now, with one heart cracked jagged and the other shattered into a mess on the floor, with Viktor trying to pick up his pieces and pretend he hasn’t broken anything at all. Yuuri sighs into the receiver, flexing his fingers and clutching his pieces firmer, determined not to let it all fall apart now.
“I’m going to miss him, too.” Yuuri says softly.
Viktor stops trying to force his pieces back together.
It starts with a broken noise that gets caught in Viktor’s throat, a strangled gasp of sorts, before it devolves into sobs that bubble up faster than his breath, muffled by what Yuuri can only assume is his hand, and Yuuri’s heart shatters. The breath is kicked out of him by the sheer amount of emotion that overcomes him as the heart wrenching noises spill over the phone, and Yuuri has to will the tears burning in his eyes not to fall, a sick feeling of helplessness and desperation washing over him as his stomach ties itself in a knot and his throat closes, fingers tingling painfully as he’s reminded just how much distance is between them right now and just how little he can do from so far away. How he can’t gather Viktor into his arms and kiss the crown of his head and help him tape together the shattered pieces that are stuck somewhere in his diaphragm, tearing holes in him with every shudder and shake. Yuuri bites his cheek hard enough to taste rust, and swallows against the tightness in his throat.
“Shhh, shhh, Viktor,” He hushes over the line, mustering the strength back into his voice, “It’ll be okay, I promise, it’ll be okay.” His heart aches, his fingers itch to card through Viktor’s hair, to pull him close. Yuuri wraps the arm he’s not using to hold up the phone around himself, digging his fingers into the fabric of his own jacket, clenching it tightly as Viktor sucks in a shuddering breath, gasping out a strangled,
“So-sorry—I, sorry, I—it’s supposed—it’s your day—I’m messing it up.” Yuuri’s fingers fist in his jacket tighter, grip on his phone going white knuckled as, for a moment, he’s terrified Viktor’s going to hang up, and he shakes his head rapidly, voice louder than he intends it to be.
“You aren’t!” Yurio glances back at him with an eyebrow raised in concern, and Yuuri drops his voice to a whisper once more, “You aren’t; you don’t have to apologize for anything. You’ve stood by my side all this time, and right now I don’t want anything more than to stand by yours, too.” The phone is trembling by his ear, hand shaking from how much pressure is in his grip, and for a moment it’s silent across the line except for Viktor’s hiccupping breaths.
“…I love you.” Viktor breathes softly, still sniffling, and Yuuri still flushes red at the confession despite it all, “I love you so much, Yuuri.” Viktor says it like a prayer, like his knees hit the floor and he’s thanking the high heavens, voice gone soft and watery, still a little jagged and torn around the edges, but full of adoration and warmth. Yuuri smiles, the warmth on his face easing the pressure in his chest and relaxing the grip of his fingers.
“I love you too, Viktor.” He says quietly, and Viktor gives a hoarse chuckle, one that stutters a bit and still sounds broken, but is present nonetheless.
“Are you blushing, Yuuri?” He teases lightly, and Yuuri flushes darker even though Viktor isn’t even there to see it, spluttering indiscernible syllables that leave Viktor laughing just a bit more, calming the hitch in his breath, and Yuuri thinks his embarrassment is an easy weight to carry if it makes Viktor smile even at a time like this. Yuuri smiles softly.
“I’ll see you soon, okay?” He says, and Viktor hums a quiet affirmative, before murmuring hesitantly,
“Hurry home.” Yuuri nods, despite the fact he knows Viktor can’t see it.
“I will.” He says, voice tender, before letting the call drop. Once he pulls his phone away from his ear, Yurio strides over.
“What’s going on?” He asks, voice low, speaking like he’s irritated but Yuuri can read the concern in him easily.
“Makkachin didn’t make it.” Yuuri replies, solemn, and his heart aches at the thought of the sweet dog. Yurio’s eyes flicker, but he doesn’t say anything, so Yuuri continues. “I’m going home.” His eyes are already on his phone, looking up flights, but Yurio waves him off.
“I already booked one using Viktor’s card, Katsudon, don’t worry about it.” Yuuri looks at him, but Yurio is shoving his phone in Yuuri’s face in lieu of meeting his eyes. “We have to get to the ceremony. You’ll need to leave right after to catch it. I mailed you the ticket.” Yurio is walking away, and Yuuri scrambles to keep up. It’s silent for a moment.
“…Thanks, Yuri.” Yuuri says seriously, and Yurio just sticks his tongue out in distaste.
“Just don’t do anything disgusting with Viktor in front of me ever again, and we’re even.” Despite it all, Yuuri laughs, and a mischievous look comes to his eye.
“No guarantees.” Yurio shoots him a horrified look, stopping short, and Yuuri keeps walking forward, grinning despite the tint to his cheeks. His phone buzzes once, and Yuuri opens it to a text from Viktor, with a string of emojis attached to the words miss u! and Yuuri smiles. He sends back a screenshot of the plane ticket, and says, I’ll be home soon. Thanks for first class ;) Did you know Yurio knows your credit card number?
His phone buzzes in his pocket all throughout the ceremony.