#plus side - if im getting sidetracked that hard this long after ive taken my meds For Sure This Time i probs havent double dosed myself

[oatmealcrisp-freak]

anyways hey hi wassap you come here often heres what i have written so far of the wip where yuuri actually kills himself oh look more about his ED okay anyways have fun

It had been a fraught and largely sleepless night.

“I just don’t know what to do, Chris,” Victor sighed, rummaging through the box that held his collection of skin creams and serums. That cooling eye mask was in here somewhere, he just knew it, and after last night’s crying jag he needed it. “I really did think there was something there but now it’s like he wants nothing to do with me! But what else would him skating Stammi Vicino be if not a call and answer?”

It had been such a lovely interpretation, bursting with such sweetness and warmth that the downgraded jumps didn’t make a lick of difference. That video had burrowed into his heart and refused to surrender the newly won territory, leaving Victor feeling claimed and spoken for. Certain it had been the sign he’d been waiting for he’d rushed to Hasetsu in response and then found himself firmly, and loudly, rejected.

Chris sighed. “You know my opinion already, mon cher. It would hardly be the first time someone used the avenue of the heart as a shortcut to gold.”

“But the video-” Victor sighed and scraped a hand through his hair, setting it on his hip as he straightened.

He frowned around. The eye mask was, in fact, not in that box. But he could have sworn…

Victor knew his memory was, perhaps, not the best, but he could even see it play out in his mind’s eye. He could remember putting the eye mask in that damned box, he was positive about it.

“Victor, my darling, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I think you’re looking for something that just isn’t there. Regardless of why he skated your routine - and I can see why anyone would, it’s beautiful choreography mon frere - we don’t even know if he was the one to upload it to his rink’s page, or if he signed off on it. I’ve checked for you, love, he hasn’t posted links to that video on any of his socials.”

“But he hardly posts anything to his socials to begin with,” Victor whined.

“If there’s any of the boy I remember remaining in the man, if it was to reach out to you? He would have.”

And wasn’t that a grimly effective rejoinder? Victor weighed that over as he continued to cast over the boxes but at this point, his heart almost wasn’t in it. He was just sad, and he was tired, and he was very painfully confused. He’d agreed to be Yuuri’s coach simply to get closer to the man and he’d still been rebuffed. And after having greeted him so beautifully in the bath, too. That had seemed to be very fortuitous timing, it allowed Victor to put the very best of himself on gleaming display and show just how fit a partner he could be, but what had worked on literally everybody else just hadn’t worked here.

He’d been yelled at.

He’d asked to sleep with Yuuri and Yuuri had yelled at him. Sure maybe it was a bit soon, maybe he’d been a little over enthusiastic, but he couldn’t get the way Yuuri had run away from him out of his head, the horrified warble in his tone. Maybe he was straight? A homophobe? Victor could have sworn there had been a beautiful chemistry between them, an erupting geyser that spoke to a connection a future could be built on, but though they’d exchanged phone numbers Yuuri had never called him. Never texted him. He’d never even messaged him on any of Victor’s socials the way a person might have if for whatever reason Victor’s number had been lost. He’d not heard hide nor hair from the man in months. He’d been ghosted.

He, Victor Nikiforov, had been GHOSTED. And ghosted by not just anyone, but by the last place finisher at the GPF. His pride was offended on that premise alone. Yuuri Katsuki should have been begging just to be on the same ice as him. 

Victor was an adult however. He knew that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t exactly reasonable. He’d wanted Yuuri to reach out to him without saying so, had tried to play it coy, had tried to be cute, and it’d backfired to slap him in the face. The last few months had been a veritable rollercoaster of worrying, fretting, of heartsick sighing, of does he or doesn’t he, will he or won’t he, with Victor steadily driving himself to the wailing brink of insanity. He’d just decided to get over it and move on with his life when Yuuri’s interpretation of Stammi Vicino went viral.

“Maybe you’re right,” Victor murmured and sat on the bed next to Makkachin, reaching over to run his hand over the sleeping dog’s flank. “Maybe he’s just not that into me.”

Chris’s tone was sympathetic, but firm. “I do think that is the case, darling, yes. I’m sorry.”

Victor felt his chin wobble a bit but after last night there was just nothing left to cry. He dropped his face into his hand.

“Oh, you must think me so foolish, my friend.”

“Non, Victor, only a hopeful romantic yearning for connection. There is no shame in that, mon cher.”

“Well,” Victor gestured hopelessly at the room he sat in, small and piled high with the boxes that had been meant to declare how serious his intentions were. “I’m here. I even agreed to coach him, Chris. What do I do, I can’t just leave?”

“Why not?”

Victor stared, a bit flummoxed. “What do you mean?”

“Why can you not simply leave? Have you already signed a contract?”

“No,” Victor pouted. “I wasn’t planning on having one.”

“And that’s something we’ll come back to at a later date but for now, perfection. You can simply walk away. You do not have to give your time to a man who doesn’t want it, and you are allowed to change your mind. There is no obligation to Yuuri Katsuki here, except perhaps the sight of your award winning ass as you sashay out of his life and make him regret what a fool he was to play with your heart. You can take your vacation here in Geneva, I’m sure I can find a hot spring around here that’s just as fair, if not better, than Yu-topia.”

Chris sighed. “Laying your heart at the feet of a man who won’t appreciate it simply is not worth it, darling. Take it from me, it just isn’t. I know this is a first for you-”

Victor snorted and rubbed at his eyes. “I’ll say.”

“-but it happens to everyone at some point, cher, it is just an unfortunate part of being human.”

“Right…” Victor sighed and lowered his head, shutting his eyes with a grimace. “Right.”

“Tell you what. Stay a week, enjoy what Hasetsu has to offer, play the tourist, take your mind off things. Show him that you are strong and unaffected by his mind games! Then at Worlds, if he even makes it in, we’ll trounce him. Ca joue?”

Victor felt his lips twitch into a smile but his heart really wasn’t in it. “Da. Alright. You make good points, Chris.”

“I do, you were right to call me. Just imagine if you hadn’t? You would have been stuck out there wailing after a man who only seeks to use you! But seriously, mon frere, I’m glad you called me. I know things have been hard for you lately, but as far as seeking inspiration goes, this just isn’t it, darl.”

“You’re right,” Victor laughed. “You’re right. Okay. I’ll buy those tickets then I’ll text them to you. Thanks, Chris.”

“It is no problem at all, Victor. Call me back if you need anything at all, okay? And don’t be afraid to text me to vent either! We need receipts for the eventual call out post,” Chris said with a laugh.

Victor laughed again, a lightness beginning to trill through him. Chris was a good friend, for all that he was competition. He was glad to have him.

“I will do. Give my love to Masumi and Georgia, yes?”

“And you kiss Makka-dear for me. We’ll talk later, darling. Kisses.”

“Kisses,” Victor said.

He ended the call and looked around, allowing himself another sigh in the privacy of this small room. The boxes, a good portion of his life packed up and shipped to a country he’d only been to for competitions, were embarrassing to look upon. Humiliating, really. He’d been so desperate.

Victor looked down at his phone and navigated to his gallery the way he’d been doing for months, now. Yuuri Katsuki was devastatingly gorgeous once you got a good look at him, and that banquet had allowed Victor a very good look. A good look, and a good feel, too, of those broad and sturdy hands, masculine yet poised. They’d held Victor so readily, sweeping him into dance after intoxicating dance, Yuuri’s cheap oxfords elevated through the sheer power of his elegance and verve. They had laughed together, and sang together, and then at the end of it-

For all that Victor’s memory was shoddy it was impossible to get Yuuri’s slurred request out of his head, the vision of his shining eyes in the flowering flush of his face. It had felt as though, in that moment, Victor had been made human.

Not a picture, not a prop, not a manifestation of the ice - sleek and perfect and beautiful. No. Human.

Yuuri had seen a person in him that had the intelligence and the ability to guide him, had faith in Victor’s ability to be more than just a lonely gold toting figurehead.

At least, that is what it’d felt like at the time.

Looking through these pictures and videos, collected by both himself and others, it was hard to believe that Victor was seeing something that simply wasn’t there. It was the same in Yuuri’s performance of Stammi Vicino. To Victor it had been a dance of loneliness and yearning. He was old, and he was tired. He’d given everything to the ice and it had left his life devoid as a result. Victor craved the ability to be a person with someone who could love him. Yuuri’s rendition, though - it harkened to a heady affection, steeped too in yearning and readiness but so open and pleased that, where Victor cooled, Yuuri smouldered.

Victor had been so sure, and so had allowed himself to be played for a fool.

He threw his head back with another sigh, a longer one, and eyed the ceiling for a moment.

‘No, Chris is right.’ He shook his head and stood. ‘He’s pretty but he’s not that pretty. I won’t let myself be taken advantage of or used as a stepping stone just because a man is attractive.’

He’d enjoy Hasetsu for a week then he would go. There were eight billion people in this world - surely one of them could be a match for him, even if it wasn’t the man he’d thought it was. 

‘Perhaps this is karma,’ Victor snorted to himself with a wry shake of his head as he started to shuffle through boxes again. That damn eye mask, where was it? ‘For breaking so many hearts in my you-’

“Ah HAH!” Victor yanked out the eye mask with a crow of victory, thrusting it toward the ceiling. “There you are, you tricky, blasted thing.”

If he even had a heart. Victor snorted, then paused and looked at the box behind him, the one he could have sworn he remembered putting it in. It should have been right next to the toner.

Strange. Oh well. Shaking his head, Victor stood and dismissed it. He had higher priorities - namely ensuring that he was so beautiful he both broke Yuuri Katsuki’s heart, while telling the man he’d never been worth Victor’s consideration to begin with.

~~~

Just looking at him, you wouldn’t expect that level of playboy maliciousness.

“Oh, Victor, good morning!” 

Yuuri’s eyes were large beneath the flop of his fluffy black bedhead, the smile on his face glittering in warm and excited welcome. It made Victor’s own heart flutter and in response he firmed himself. This usually wasn’t something he had such difficulty in, typically Victor could spot these types from a thousand paces and treat them as they deserved, but Yuuri just seemed to have some sort of way about him, an innocence perhaps, or a welcomness that spoke to an instinct of safety.

‘He must use it with deadly precision,’ Victor thought with a nod and smile in answer, sitting next to him.

He would not let himself be fooled again.

“Did you and Makkachin sleep alright?” Yuuri asked. “She wasn’t too unsettled, was she?”

The man was even asking after the welfare of his dog. Victor forced his opinion of his own foolishness to gentle because anybody would get suckered in by this.

“We both slept just fine, thank you for asking,” Victor said and let his gaze drift about the table. Despite the soft sounds of dining in the background from the other customers, there was no food here as yet, only what looked like a cup of tea and a sheet of paper. It was that which caught Victor’s attention and he reached over to take it.

“What’s this?” He asked, though the moment he laid eyes on it he didn’t need to.

Ah. Meal plan.

“I was so excited I couldn’t sleep,” Yuuri admitted with a laugh and a scratch of his cheek. He straightened his glasses and leaned in closer, and Victor struggled not to be drawn in as though he’d been magnetized. “So I thought I’d draft up a meal plan!”

The man kneeled back, determination shining through his face. “I want you to know that I’m taking this very seriously and-and that I’m not going to take this chance you’re giving me for granted, Victor. I promise, I’ll do my best to be the best pupil you’ve ever had.”

‘With the exercise, it’s a bit low, isn’t it?’ Victor thought as he looked at the estimated calorie total for each of the meals, then shook himself of it. He wasn’t doing this. In fact, he’d be best off if he simply left right now before he could get swept up by Yuuri’s spell yet again for surely this must be witchcraft.

“Actually, about that,” Victor said and set the sheet down, turning to look at Yuuri. 

He perked so obviously to attention that Victor’s words nearly stalled out. Months, Victor reminded himself, months of no contact only to be wailed at.

‘He’s hanging on my every word so attentively,’ Victor almost frowned. ‘It’s hard to believe, but that is the reality of the situation.’

He could change his mind again, Victor knew. He could become Yuuri’s coach and get to know this man, really properly know him, find out the long way what that lack of communication had been about, discover the mystery behind Yuuri’s interpretation of Stammi Vicino. Victor could do that.

He had to be strong.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Victor said with a smile. “I’m not going to be your coach after all, Yuuri.”

All that glittering enthusiasm drained out of Yuuri’s face, a sight so sore to see that Victor actually had to rip his eyes away from the pallid ghost it left behind. His heart was throbbing, baying even, with pain. The sensation grew to a scream as Yuuri said, oh so softly, “Oh.”

If there was anything that should have drawn out the entitled heartkiller that surely lay beneath, it should have been this. Instead, when Victor glanced at him from the corner of his eye, Yuuri still looked like he was trying to pick up the fragments of his thoughts as though they’d been scattered by a shotgun blast. 

Months, Victor reminded himself, and drew in a deep breath, pasting the smile more firmly to his face.

“After last night I did a lot of thinking.” Victor tilted his head to look at Yuuri. He shrugged delicately. “And I’ve decided it’s just not worth it.”

What fragmented remains Yuuri had seemingly gathered fell away, again, dropping to leave the man paling and round eyed. Victor very nearly grimaced. Those eyes were the assassins of a guilty conscience, he swore. There was no pleasure in this. This just felt like kicking a puppy. He blew out a short sigh and stood.

“I just wanted to let you know that,” Victor said and turned to start walking away to his room.

~~~

It was seeing him walk away that jerked Yuuri’s mind back into motion.

“W-Wait,” He whispered and jerked, nails scraping the tatami as he forced his numb and clumsy body upward. “Wait!”

He caught up to Victor in the hallway leading to the man’s room, those otherwise painfully empty vacancies, and when he didn’t stop Yuuri put on a burst of speed. His hand careened outward and settled onto Victor’s wrist.

It was warm, in the brief space of time Yuuri got to feel it before Victor jerked away. But he’d stopped and even turned so Yuuri could see his face, meeting Yuuri’s gaze with expressionless eyes. The smile the man put on in response made Yuuri shiver.

“Yes?” Victor asked, tweaking at the sleeve Yuuri had touched.

Yuuri swallowed the shame and forced himself forward. How did he go about this? His entire future, his idol, this wonderful man - he was walking away from him without so much as an explanation. Yuuri had to at least try.

“I-I-,” Yuuri stammered, withdrawing his hand to his chest.

Victor quirked a beautiful slender eyebrow. “You?”

He restrained his flinch and took in a deep breath then swung into a deep bow, hands firm at his sides.

“Please, if I’ve already disappointed you, please give me another chance to make it up to you. I promise to be a diligent student and work hard, Victor, I won’t let you down.”

There was a long breathy sigh and Yuuri could see Victor’s feet shift. “Won’t let me down, he says. If I’ve disappointed you. Wow. This is impressive.”

Yuuri’s head lurched up even as his heart sank into his chest. So it was something that he’d done. It’d only been an afternoon and a night, what could he have already done to mess up so badly?

“I-If-If I’ve offended you in any way,” Yuuri said and forced his head down again. He could feel himself begin to shake. It was getting hard to breathe. To talk. He was already falling apart. “Please tell me so I can-”

Victor’s feet turned and walked away, and Yuuri’s heart stopped. He felt his head rock up, his breath petering out in his too dry mouth at the sight of Victor’s back. The sunlight glowed shimmering threads through his hair, his bearing as regal as he was beautiful, his motions the epitome of the grace and artistry that had captivated Yuuri for so long.

And he was walking away.

Yuuri’s body was moving before he’d even realized it and the next thing he knew he was staring up into Victor’s incalculably cool face. His breath was moving in and out in mighty rasps, and Yuuri watched as the man’s features became watery and indistinct. Yuuri’s body felt numb with panic as he dropped down onto his knees, set his hands upon the floor, and bowed his head overtop of them - the only thing he could think of to express his ultimate contrition.

“Ou,” Victor cooed above him and clapped. “Japanese dogeza!”

Yuuri clenched his teeth then let it go. He surely deserved this. “Whatever it is that I’ve done, I apologize. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. P-Please tell me so I can make it up to you, I promise, whatever it is I’ll-”

A pair of fingers slid beneath his chin just the way they had last night, lifting his head. Yuuri felt his tongue grow wooden and thick, and his clumsy words trailed off. “-do…it…”

Victor was still smiling, but this was not the rich and syrupy expression of last night, the one Victor had given him while Yuuri tried so desperately to keep his eyes from sliding down below so inappropriately to that glorious revelation of skin. No, this was cool. This was exactly the kind of smile that Victor seemed so prone to performing as late, the one that had stoked the fires of Yuuri’s concern because for so long now it’d just not seemed happy.

Yuuri swallowed deeply, aware that he was crying and hoping he wasn’t too much more of a disgusting mess because of it.

“You just graduated university, didn’t you?” Victor asked, his voice soft as that warm and elegant hand trailed up his jaw to his cheek, and swept some hair behind his ear. The gesture was affectionate but something in it made Yuuri want to flinch and shy away as though it were a threat.

He forced himself to nod. “Y-Yes.”

“Double major? Suma cum laude even.”

Somehow feeling as though he was being insulted, Yuuri felt his face grow very hot and he swallowed back the shame again. He nodded.

“Then I think you’re plenty intelligent enough to know exactly what you’ve done, little piggy,” Victor said and tapped his nose. This time Yuuri couldn’t restrain his jump back, even as the cold of Victor’s words settled into him and made themselves deeply at home. 

Aghast, Yuuri watched the smiling man as he drew upwards and walked away again with a clipped, “Goodness knows our cultures can’t be so different that kind of behaviour is acceptable here.”

This time, Yuuri couldn’t make himself go after him. He felt as though he had grown thick roots and they’d lashed him to the hardwood, his body no longer flesh and bone but instead gone to cypress.

‘What did I do?’ He could barely feel the tears as he watched Victor open the door to his room, the largest they had, and slowly dropped his eyes. The thought was so intense it must have blared through his senses. Even the sunlight seemed to grow dim. ‘I-I don’t know. What did I do? What did I do?’

He didn’t see Victor turn to look at him, and hesitate, his feet twitching back before he grimaced and shouldered through the door. He only heard it slam behind him. It was that which broke Yuuri out of his stupor, his whole body jerking at the sound. He bolted for his room.

There, he scrubbed his face and paced, one hand firm on his mouth to restrain any ugly bawling and the other clutching tightly at his stomach. Back and forth, back and forth he went, his mind racing, turning over possibilities. Victor had asked to sleep with him last night and horrified at the thought of the man seeing what was essentially the shrine Yuuri had built to him in all his fanboy fervor, he’d yelled. Had that been it? Or had it been because he’d said no?

That thought actually dragged his feet to a stop.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

‘Victor’s never struck me as that type of man, though,’ Yuuri thought and resumed his pacing, chewing hard at a hangnail. ‘Not to mention he’s Victor, people would be lining up. The casting couch is the last thing he needs. No, that can’t be it. Fuck. This is just typical of me. It hasn’t even been a full twenty-four hours and I’ve already ruined this practically beyond the point of repair. Typical Yuuri Fucking Katsuki.’

Victor wasn’t going to tell him, though, that much was clear. Somehow, Yuuri was supposed to figure this out for himself. He whisked his glasses off and drew to a stop again, palming his face and trying to breathe through the panic.

His eyes opened. ‘Chris.’

Since Chris had moved up to Seniors, the friendliness between them had shallowed significantly into a yesteryear style twilight. Yuuri wouldn’t really consider them friends anymore, if they’d ever been to begin with, and wary of being intrusive he’d taken the distance for what it was and not tried to push his luck. He no longer had the man’s phone number, but they were still mutuals on a few socials. Yuuri lunged for his phone and swiped through the lockscreen, ignoring the misery that made his heart thud at the photo of Vicchan he still had as his wallpaper, and made his way over to Instagram. His eyes swivelled through any recent posts there just in case, his first, then Victor’s, then Chris’s. He couldn’t see anything that might have some sort of-of clue, of hint. He threw himself into Chris’s DMs, noticing the last messages there had been years ago, then paused.

He had to be, Yuuri knew and bit his lip, very, very careful in how he worded this.

Chris was Victor’s competition, yes, but Chris was also Victor’s friend, their friendship so genuine seeming that Yuuri deeply doubted it was some sort of press-thing the way some conspiracy theorists believed.

He was happy for Chris in that, even though he’d also admit to a little bit of jealousy. Yuuri had hardly been the only skater of today who Victor had inspired.

Chris’s loyalty had always been to Victor first - to the one who had believed in him.

Yuuri blew out a hard breath. Just sitting here and staring at the screen wasn’t going to do anything, and if anyone knew what the hell Yuuri had done to fuck up so badly it surely had to be Chris. He chewed on his lip for a moment longer then shook his head and started to type.

‘Hi Chris, long time no chat. I hope you’re doing well, congratulations again on your silver at Sochi. This might seem strange, and I apologize for that, but Victor is currently staying here at Yu-topia and I’

Yuuri’s thumbs crawled to a stop. A string of flesh began to fray from his lip. His teeth worried at it. Another deep breath. ‘C’mon Katsuki, man up.’

‘I fear I’ve already managed to deeply offend him and I’m sorry and ashamed to say that I don’t know how. I know you two are friends. I was hoping you might be able to tell me something, anything, so I can understand what I’ve done wrong and make up for my-’ What was the fancy English word for ‘fuck up’? English had its own rules of formality, which this type of request certainly required, and ten-dollar words were a part of it. Swearing was most certainly not. Yuuri cast for it then nodded. ‘-gaffe. I would be in your debt. Thank you.’

There. Yuuri read it over once, twice, ten times, then after the fifteenth he took in a shivering breath and sent it before he could chicken out. Then Yuuri dropped onto his bed, abruptly exhausted, and looked around his room.

‘Maybe he got a look in here and realized I’m nothing but a creep,’ Yuuri snorted bitterly, then jumped as his phone buzzed. He blinked and looked down at it. He hadn’t actually been expecting such a quick reply, maybe Chris had actually-

‘you know exactly what youve done 😂’

‘🐷🐷🕺’

Yuuri almost growled with frustration and quickly typed back that he was clearly an idiot who really didn’t, but the message wouldn’t send. He tried it again.

‘He blocked me,’ Yuuri realized with a sinking feeling of dread. ‘He actually-’

He quickly checked the other socials they shared and found himself blocked on them as well. He was too stunned to even cry about it. Cold, Yuuri set the phone to the side, clasping his face and staring into nothing. 

Eventually the wordless shock began to churn over into thoughts, into ideas. Yuuri looked at the phone screen again then took a screenshot in a flash of paranoia.

He read and reread long enough to have the short exchange memorized. 

‘Two pig emojis and a dancing man,’ Yuuri thought, feeling like he was trying to interpret hieroglyphs. ‘What the hell does that mean?’

He scrubbed his face with a sigh then looked up into the face of one of his posters, searching the planes of Victor’s exquisite features and lines as though they could give him some sort of clue. He, of course, came away with no new ideas.

The only thing Yuuri could think of was to wait for the emotions to cool then try again.

He got his opportunity come lunch, which Victor had asked to be delivered to his room. Yuuri tried not to breathe in the delicious scent but it still made his stomach growl, reminding him that he’d yet to eat today. He hadn’t wanted to until Victor, as his coach, gave his approval or disapproval of the meal plan Yuuri had drawn up.

Last night, the bounding happiness and excitement that had glittered through him and stolen his sleep until he’d finally crashed at just after three, already felt like a dream, a distant memory. With things as they were now, the thought of asking Victor to be Yuuri’s coach was the last thing on his mind, he just wanted to-to fix this somehow, to make it up to him.

The thought of Victor being mad at him curdled any stirrings of an appetite Yuuri had right to rot. He shuddered as he came to stand outside of Victor’s door, then took a deep breath in and knocked.

“Come in.”

Bracing the tray against his hip, Yuuri did so, refusing the urge to look at Victor and instead keeping his eyes down.

“I’ve brought your lunch. You ordered the squid tempura set with green tea?”

“Ah, perfect! Yes I did, thank you very much. Just on the table is fine,” Victor said from his seat on the couch, barely looking up from his phone.

Yuuri nodded and, doing his best to be as quiet and unobtrusive as possible, made his way to the table and kneeled at its side, divesting upon it the contents of his tray.

“It looks delicious,” Victor said, and Yuuri was helpless but to look up and see the delighted glimmer in his eyes. Makkachin’s nose was really going too, her head lifting from Victor’s lap.

He smiled a bit. “I think mom’s cooking is the main reason we’re still open. I hope you enjoy.”

“I’m sure I will. It’s no wonder you’re such a little piggy, surrounded by such delicious food,” Victor laughed.

Yuuri made himself laugh too, though he was certain it was quite weak. He murmured an agreement then, unable to help himself, poured Victor a cup of tea. He should leave. He typically would. Instead Yuuri stayed right where he was, clutching the serving tray to his chest between his arms and gripping onto it tightly.

He almost felt it when Victor looked at him, and held onto the tray all the tighter at the next soft chuckle.

“Does the staff dine with the customers in Hasetsu? How interesting!”

Yuuri looked up. “No! No. Uhm.” He lowered his head again. “No. I’m. Sorry for intruding on your meal. I-I was just.”

He swallowed deeply and squeezed his eyes shut. “I wanted to ask for you to please take pity on me and tell me what I’ve done so I can apologize to you properly, Victor. Please.”

Yuuri laughed and was a little horrified at how wet it sounded. “I’m an idiot, and I can’t figure it out. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, I see. Hm.”

Yuuri opened his eyes and peered through his frames upwards at the man, thumbnail scraping the tray back and forth. Victor was looking at the spread of food before him, seemingly more interested in his meal than in Yuuri himself, which honestly wasn’t unfair. He still didn’t look about to answer. Yuuri hugged the tray tighter to his body and forged ahead. He really didn’t think this was it, but just in case it was-

“If-If this is about your…request last night, I-”

“When I asked to sleep with you?”

Yuuri hesitated then nodded. Victor hummed and reached forward to gather up his chopsticks and the small dish of rice.

“Maybe a little bit,” Victor said.

Yuuri felt his shoulders hunch in deeply. This was so terrible to even say, but, well. If it was Victor, then-

“I would be willing to, if that’s what you’d like,” Yuuri pushed his voice out but it still came out not much above a whisper. Whether it was simply sharing a bed, or if it was sharing a bed intimately, if it was with Victor, then, at least it was Victor.

Victor just laughed, louder this time, and the humiliation turned Yuuri’s ears red, welled deep in his throat until he was forced to swallow or risk choking on it.

“I’m hardly the kind of man to go where he isn’t wanted, Yuuri, your chastity is safe with me,” Victor said, his tone hair-sizzling with its contempt. “No need to look so afraid. So. You really don’t know, hm?”

Mute, a little worried he might break the tray with how hard he was clinging to it, Yuuri shook his head.

“I see. Alright. Well, I’ll be sticking around for a week to take in the sights and enjoy your family’s hospitality. If you can figure it out before then, let me know. Until then,” The levity dropped out of Victor’s voice. “Don’t talk to me unless you know exactly what you’re apologizing for. Now please leave. You’re ruining my appetite.”

It was difficult to move through the weight dragging his limbs down but Yuuri nodded and quietly left, closing the door behind him. He returned the tray to the kitchen, washed it, dried it, left it with the others. His mom asked if Vicchan had liked his lunch and Yuuri said yes, he had. Then he left and went back up to his room, where he silently shut the door. There, he took his phone out of his pocket and navigated back into his and Chris’s conversation. Two pigs, and a dancing man. He backed out, sliding to the floor and curling up as he went again through Victor’s socials, through Plisetsky’s, Babicheva’s, every skater in the senior division who he followed. There was nothing. Thinking himself insane, Yuuri popped into his own camera roll, scrolling, scrolling. It was all the same as it ever was. The same was true of his files, of his notes, his emails. Yuuri scoured his text messages, then his call history, then his contacts, thinking maybe he’d somehow managed to get a hold of Victor’s phone number and drunk texted him something abhorrent, or maybe he had said something inflammatory to someone else and it had gotten back to him, or something but.

There was still nothing. Nothing. There was NOTHING.

Yuuri buried his hands into his hair, the panic making him shake, turn cold. He’d done something wrong, something horribly wrong, to VICTOR. To not just Victor, but to Victor Nikiforov at that. If this got out somehow, if the world knew just how badly Yuuri had offended him, it wasn’t just Yuuri’s dreams that would be over but his family’s too. Yuuri had seen first hand the wars Victor’s fandom had launched in defence of their sacred icon over any slight. These days it was common behaviour. The last restaurant to come under fire had closed within three months. The harassment campaigns had always made Yuuri sick to watch. Victor had never okayed them, never asked for them, had always tried to call them off whenever they happened, but the information still always somehow managed to get out, and left businesses and people to crumble under the weight of Victor’s empire.

‘I’ve brought us to ruin,’ Yuuri shook, doing his best not to hyperventilate as he clutched at his mouth. ‘Bad enough that I’ve squandered away all our money with my degree and shitty skating, but now this? I have to figure it out. I have to!’

If they lost Yu-topia, their family would have nothing left. They were just hanging on by a thread as it was, supported via the dregs of Yuuri’s waning sponsorships which after his performance at the GPF, he just knew would shortly be called off. He jumped to his feet and began to pace furiously, wracking his brain for anything, anything at all.

‘C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,’ Yuuri bit deep into his knuckle. ‘There has to be something. Think, Katsuki, you fucking idiot. THINK.’

Two pigs and a dancing man. It was something Yuuri should know and, more, it was something that was seemingly so painfully obvious that it was apparently laughable that he didn’t realize it. Something so big that even Victor’s patience snapped under the weight of it. Something he should know. What had he done? What had he done?

‘Two pigs and a dancing man.’ Victor had called him a pig several times since he’d been here. It had to be a clue. Chris had done what Yuuri had asked for and then cut him off. He would be getting no more assistance there, and Yuuri was too afraid of this getting out even faster to ask anyone else. He had a week. One week. Seven days. This must be what Sadako’s victims had felt like. ‘Two pigs and a dancing man. Two pigs and a dancing man.’

The dancing man had been yellow. Yuuri was Japane-He shook his head. Neither Chris nor Victor were racist, yellow was just the default skin tone for emojis, it wasn’t that. Two pigs and a dancing man. He tore apart the drawers of his memory, clawing through their innards. Two pigs and a dancing man. Two pigs and a dancing-

From the corner of his eye Yuuri caught sight of his reflection in the mirror next to his closet and stopped.

-man.

Wrapping his arms tightly around his middle, Yuuri approached the mirror, taking himself in from his harried expression and the way his hair relentlessly stuck up, to the fat leaking out of the waistband of his jeans.

Two pigs, Yuuri thought, recalling Victor’s comments the night before about his body, and a dancing man.

The most in his face obvious thing Yuuri could think of, if it wasn’t sleeping together in whatever way Victor had meant the words, the biggest thing that had happened recently was Yuuri’s viral interpretation of Victor’s Stammi Vicino.

‘Two pigs,’ Yuuri turned to study his body in the mirror from all angles, stepped into profile and lifted his shirt. When his palm touched the swell of his soft stomach, it was ice cold. ‘And a dancing man.’

He’d really thought to make an attempt at Victor’s incredible choreography… while looking like this?

Yuuri dropped his shirt, feeling like he’d just been gut-punched, and looked at his reflection in the mirror one more time. Then he reached forward and set his hands upon it, stood there, and gripped the sides to rotate it until it faced the wall instead of his horrible self.

Two pigs and a dancing man. That had to be it. Yuuri had his answer. He picked up his phone from the floor and navigated into Youtube, finding he was still trending with a grimace. He muted his phone and tapped into the video, sitting down on his bed, and watched it play. There, Yuuri scrutinized every contortion of his body, every roll, every lash of skin when his clothes could no longer contain his girth. It made him sick to his stomach. The shame was unreal.

Not only was he so hideous to look at that Minako had screamed at the sight of him, but Yuuri had made a mockery of that sweet and sensitive dance and then it’d gone up on the internet for everyone to see. Victor must have felt humiliated at seeing all the feelings he’d put into Stammi Vicino disgraced like that. Disgusted, Yuuri turned off the phone and set it down next to him, dropping to hang his head into his hands.

‘Victor said that I needed to get down to my weight at the GPF before he’d even consider teaching me,’ Yuuri recalled. ‘At a minimum. This…pig’s body meant lessons would be useless until I did. He’s not going to be my coach anymore, but losing this weight could go a long way to demonstrating how sorry I am and how seriously I take his opinions and feelings. That, and maybe promising to never skate his routines again…’

That just on its own was a painful thought for how much comfort Yuuri had found flowing through those impeccable and inspiring motions, but he swallowed it back. If it meant Victor was willing to let things lie, even if he couldn’t forgive him, Yuuri was willing to do it.

However.

Yuuri’s one and only special talent was dieting, but even with that being the case Yuuri didn’t know how he could drop this much weight in one week.

His eyes flashed up into the emptiness of his room. ‘I have to try.’

He snapped up his phone then grabbed his wallet, his mask, a couple of jackets and a toque that he could use to cover himself so the sight of him might at least not offend anyone else. There was only one thing for it in times like these, Yuuri thought with Minako’s lessons ringing loudly in his ears. Twenty five pounds in one week was going to be tough, probably downright impossible. Without the ability to ease into it, it wasn’t going to be super healthy, either, but fuck it, who cared. He was a disgraced athlete and set to retire before he made things even worse. He had no coach, he had no dog, he had no career, and with Victor’s antipathy on the table his entire family’s livelihood was at stake. Yuuri had to make this right, no matter the cost. He dropped down the stairs and called out that he was going out and borrowing the car. His dad laughed and asked him to get more eggs in that case.

Yuuri smiled at him and pulled up his mask. “Sure thing.��

He stepped into his shoes and walked out the door, keys painful in the clutch of his fist, his teeth ground down tight.

‘I’ll make this right,’ Yuuri unlocked the car and got in, jamming the keys into the ignition even as he shut the door behind him. ‘Even if it kills me.’

Once he got home he carried each tray of eggs, thirty each, carefully into the kitchen, then he went back into the car and unloaded his own groceries. He paused by his dad at reception.

“Hey, uh,” Yuuri rubbed the back of his neck, glad for his mask because he couldn’t lie to save his life. “I know it’s bad timing but I think I’m coming down with something, I’m feeling pretty gross.”

His dad blinked and looked down into the bags Yuuri was carrying, no doubt taking in the mound of water and tea bottles.

“Ah,” Toshiya gave him a sympathetic smile. “That is too bad. But you go and get better.” He laughed, chuffed. “After all, you’ve got a handsome new coach to impress!”

Yuuri winced at that. Best to just get this out of the way before he got their hopes up even further. He backed away slowly. “Uhm. About that. He changed his mind. Victor isn’t going to be my coach. Uhm. I’m gonna. Go to my room. Remember I’m sick so don’t come in, okay? Bye!”

“Wh-Yuuri?!”

Clutching his groceries to his chest, Yuuri raced to his room and slammed the door shut, panting softly. He took off his mask and sniffled hard, wiping at his eyes beneath his frames and shifting to walk over to his bed. Several bottles of unsweetened tea, several bottles of water, and a bottle of electrolyte tablets were what he unloaded onto the floor. Tying up the plastic bags automatically, Yuuri eyed the assemblage of his fast, then nodded. That done, he looked around his room where he’d be spending most of his time for the upcoming week, not wanting to offend Victor with his presence even more than he already had. The blue eyes that he’d so admired seem to glare down at him from their posterly berths in accusation. Yuuri grimaced.

Victor Nikiforov. He was a beautiful man to look at, one who Yuuri was painfully attracted to in all honesty, and a goal to aspire towards. He was an inspiration and a wonder. He was a man. Yuuri had been long aware of how closely he’d skirted toward parasocialism when it came to him and he’d tried hard to avoid it the moment he’d learned the definition of that word. Victor was, before he was Yuuri’s idol, a person deserving of respect. He had his own thoughts and feelings just as Yuuri did, and though he’d often been concerned for what he thought he’d seen in those feelings, Yuuri’s obsession was not Victor’s responsibility.

The man disdained him, now that he knew who Yuuri was beyond a fan and an offer of a commemorative photo. It was quite obvious.

Yuuri got to his feet and began to remove the posters from his walls. They weren’t anything he deserved, and were no longer appropriate to have.

He couldn’t find it in himself to throw them away, though. Looking at the bundle in his hands, Yuuri flipped through them. He’d not framed them, wary of putting holes in the walls, but he had laminated them to protect their edges then hung them with small applications of adhesive putty. Those he did throw away, leaving him with just the sheets bearing Victor’s countenance.

Yuuri looked into those beautiful blue eyes, and bit his lip.

‘I know it’s selfish to hang onto these, but…’ Yuuri turned and put them away in his closet where they would remain, a shameful secret, until he could muster the courage to do anything else with them.

If anything, Yuuri thought as he traced his fingers down the smooth plastic then shifted the door shut, they would serve as a reminder to Yuuri of what happened when he reached beyond his ability.

‘I was foolish,’ Yuuri hiccupped and cupped his hands over his mouth to muffle his whines. Nobody needed to hear this. ‘I was such a fool.’

Last night he had been so happy. He should have known better than to think Victor would ever be truly interested in him of all people. Who was Yuuri Katsuki, after all, if not a fat and ugly failure. A dime-a-dozen dead last. He was a fuck up. Just a fuck up. Victor had said Yuuri wasn’t worth it, and he was right.

He bent over his knees, trying to ignore the gorging width of his thighs. He should have known better.

‘I’m sorry,’ Yuuri shuddered and shook his head, pressing it into his knees. ‘I’m so, so sorry.’

He cried for a while, then when he got tired of that he changed into some exercise clothes.

‘Mountain climbers to start,’ Yuuri thought with a grimace and dropped to the floor. He hated mountain climbers, but desperate times called for desperate action.

~~~

The food was delicious but Victor still felt, honestly, like a huge jerk. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said Yuuri was ruining his appetite. Victor didn’t know how one could avoid such a thing in the face of a begging man whose pleas seemed so earnest on the surface.

It was that which was fucking with him the most, Victor thought. Every sense Victor had told him that Yuuri’s responses were honest and, further, uncalculated. He’d even cried, he told Chris. Yuuri that is, not Victor. And he’d done it a lot too.

Yuuri had worn the face of a man whose world was ending, and it just wasn’t fair.

‘i threw him a bone for you, don’t you dare give in under those puppy dog eyes Victor Nikiforov,’ Chris said then shortly after sent a screenshot.

Victor had to admit, that little string of emojis should do the trick. It could only get more obvious if Chris had thrown a ghost in there, but just this should do.

‘he will hardly be the first or the last person to cry on command, you know this’

But with that being the case, why had Yuuri not yet skidded into his room to wail his defeat and apologize for ghosting him so boorishly after the banquet? If the timestamp was to be believed and the time conversion correct, the conversation they’d had over Victor’s lunch took place after this exchange, and Yuuri still claimed to have no idea. His confusion then defeat had been painful and irritating both to behold. Yuuri’s misery was palpable and made Victor feel like a monster when really it should be the other way around. Victor had hardly seduced Yuuri then left without a word! This whole situation was baffling.

Victor had asked the internet, through the guise of anonymity and typing a query into the search bar, if that was acceptable behaviour in Japan and Google said yes, ghosting actually was a common way to end relationships and mitigate conflict. Foreign responses seemed to be just as irritated as Victor was to this, at least. However, though that may be the case, Yuuri had been Stateside for years and ghosting, though Victor was sure it wasn’t uncommon there, wasn’t exactly seen as kind there either. He’d dealt with enough Americans to know this. Surely Yuuri would have picked up on that nuance? And either way Victor couched it, a refusal was still a refusal. No, it was only because Victor had changed his mind about being Yuuri’s coach that the man was reacting like this. Right?

Victor was useless at handling other people’s tears, he’d be the first to admit it. He wasn’t always the best at decoding other people’s emotions either - this had led to a lot of conflict in his past relationships. 

For all of that, though, Victor was fairly certain he could tell when he was being lied to, either by a body or with words, and he just didn’t get the sense that Yuuri was lying to him in any capacity here. If he was, Victor thought as he recalled the redness of the man’s ears, the hunch in his posture, the way he’d looked kneeling in that hallway, he was an exceptional actor and his next career should absolutely capitalize on that. It sang through in his skating, and that was still the case now. A man like that, he seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve. You’d expect therefore that he’d be a terrible liar. Victor supposed his expectations were wrong.

When Victor realized he was watching Yuuri skate Stammi Vicino yet again, he shook his head and stood. He had to get out of here, get some air, maybe make use of that rink and just get his mind off things.

He still found his way back into that screenshot, reading it yet again.

‘All the words seem correct,’ Victor thought. ‘He seems genuinely remorseful.’

He had in every interaction they’d had, but he certainly hadn’t been last night. No, Victor shook his head again and stood to find his skate bag. Yuuri Katsuki was just another athlete hungry for gold and went the route of mindgames to get there. Victor was no stranger to this. Hell, Victor had himself participated in such in his youth, when his reputation had yet to grow to the point his very existence played the game for him. That was just the world of professional figure skating. It was cut-throat, and it was messy, and it was oftentimes painful but it was also deeply rewarding.

Or it had been.

Such had not been the case more and more as of the past few years, leaving Victor feeling as though his well had run dry. Even thinking of choreography had grown substantially more difficult. His mind was quite nearly a placid lake, unstirred and unemotional. Void. He’d dragged the thoughts for last season’s choreography from the mire of past routines, by and large, and the depths of that lake, and it had of course won him gold but it had felt a rather hollow experience. It always did these days.

And then, of course, Yuuri happened. Who Victor was getting pretty sick of thinking of.

He’d expected some respite from that at the Ice Castle, as it seemed to be called. Victor didn’t know why that was, but he had, and he was proven shortly wrong.

There was a woman manning the front desk, pretty, busty, with brown hair tied up in a tail. She was pouting at her phone for some reason but when the bell rang to announce Victor’s presence, her head swung up with a cheerful smile.

Then she saw him and promptly screamed. This drew the sound of running footsteps and a bark of Japanese as a widthy man burst out of the back, who also looked at him, and said something that was probably a cuss word. Entertained at the show, Victor settled his hand on his hip as he watched the man tend to, if the rings were anything to go by, probably his wife who was presently suffering from a catastrophic nosebleed.

She looked at him again, screeched his name, and immediately passed out. 

These screams? Much, much better.

“Here,” Victor said and strode forward, settling his bag on the counter. He was hardly unfamiliar with this sort of fan response. “Let me help.”

“Hi,” The woman said in warbling, accented English when she’d woken up, mopping her face with a damp towel and still looking very star struck. “I’m Yuuko Nishigori, and this is my husband Takeshi. Minako told us you were here but we didn’t believe her!”

Minako… Ah, right, that was the name of Yuuri’s ballet instructor, the shrewdly smiling one who seemed to take Yuuri’s weight as a personal insult, if the way she’d dropped him in it with Victor and just watched him tear into Yuuri with a smile was any indication. Victor put on one of his prettiest smiles.

“She’s right, I am indeed here! Hallo. It’s very nice to meet you both.”

“I can’t believe Yuuri didn’t say anything,” Takeshi snorted. 

Victor felt his smile strain just a smidge.

Yuuko giggled. “Maybe he’s just overwhelmed. Anyways, I take it you’d like to skate? There’s nobody in there right now and we don’t have any bookings so please, feel free! But. Uhm.”

She poked her fingers together and gave him a hopeful look. “Would you mind if I watched?”

“Not at all!” Victor turned around and dug out his phone. “In fact, if you could help me out and film me so I can send it back to Yakov, I would be very grateful.”

The resulting squeal was rather ear splitting. Victor was always so glad to be able to please his fans.

“So are you staying at Yu-topia, then?” Yuuko asked a few minutes later as she watched Victor get into his skates.

Victor looked up with a smile. “Da. They’ve been very welcoming, and I’ve been enjoying the, ah, the onsens?” Yuuko nodded rapidly and Victor beamed, finding her enjoyable and sweet. “And the food very much.”

Yuuko’s smile gentled. “That’s wonderful, I’m so glad to hear it. I have no doubts they’ll take very good care of you while you’re here.”

She turned and looked around as Victor stood. “Will Yuuri be joining you?”

Victor had been at this game too long for his wince to come through thankfully. “No, I don’t expect so.”

Yuuko turned back with a sad little frown, looking down at Victor’s phone and swiping into his camera. “So even with you here, he’s still retiring, huh?”

This time Victor’s startle did make it through. “What?”

That had not been his impression.

Yuuko looked up with a nod. “He didn’t take his results at the GPF very well. Honestly, he’s too hard on himself.”

If Victor had skated that poorly, he’d be hard on himself too. He said as much, and was not expecting the way Yuuko instantly puffed up with righteous indignation.

“And how well do you think you would have done if you’d found out right before your SP that Makkachin got hit by a car and died?!”

“What?!” Victor couldn’t help his squeak. But wait, what did that have to do with anythi-

It clicked.

Oh. Yes, Victor thought back to the recordings he’d seen of those very dismal performances, rife with falls and a stiff demeanour that was entirely unlike Yuuri’s usual fluid musicality, insofar as Youtube had shown him since he’d never paid much attention prior. That would do it. He briefly licked his lips, very uncomfortable with this conversation now.

“I told them to wait to call him,” Yuuko sighed. “But they all loved Vicchan so much and. …Yeah. I’m sorry for snapping at you like that. It’s just that Yuuri’s like a little brother to me.”

Victor rubbed his arm, casting his eyes to the side. “Uhm. It’s fine. Only. Why are you telling me this?”

That caught Yuuko’s attention, making her glance up then take him in with widening eyes.

“I just-” Yuuko started, stopped, her brows drawing inwards with confusion. “Are you… not here to see Yuuri, then?”

Well. Yes. He was. Had been, rather. He wasn’t going to tell her that, though. Victor shook his head and mustered a weak smile.

“He told me about the family business at the banquet, yes, and I wanted to try it. I’ve never been to an onsen before! That is as far as that goes though.”

“Oh. Oh no,” Yuuko flushed deeply. “I’m really sorry, I must have made this so awkward for you! I just thought that you might have come here after seeing his interpretation of Stammi Vicino. The-the timing and all…”

He had to give her that, the timing was certainly suspicious and difficult to wiggle out of.

“It did serve to remind me that Yu-topia existed,” Victor laughed. 

“So you saw it?” Yuuko’s eyes hesitantly lifted back up, a restrained sort of excitement leaking through there. She definitely had the ‘proud big sister who wants to brag about her brother’ look down pat. “It was just beautiful, wasn’t it? He performed it for me, you know. I was,” She turned and pointed. “Right there!”

Victor blinked.

“Oh, I see. He’s in love with you.”

The words were out of his mouth before he had the time to realize he’d even spoken, but it wasn’t untrue. That, he thought with a sinking feeling, did go very far in explaining the vivid warmth in Yuuri’s eyes, the-the everything, really. Yuuri had been skating his love just as Victor thought he’d been. It was simply that Yuuri’s love wasn’t for him, but for the beautiful and married woman beside him.

Chris was right. The entire time he’d been looking for signs that, simply put, just didn’t exist.

Yuuko raised an eyebrow at him. Squinted. “He was. I’m pretty sure his heart has belonged to someone else for a while now, though, even if he doesn’t really know him very well.”

The way Yuuri had skated the routine really said otherwise, but who was Victor to point out a stranger’s naivety? The massive hint toward bisexuality was at least a little comforting, he probably hadn’t been imagining the chemistry between them then that he’d feared. Victor had yet to misinterpret a straight man as interested in him, that was not a humiliation he ever, EVER wanted to endure.

“That must have been awkward,” Victor said with another smile. “With you being in a relationship and all.”

He was frankly surprised the man was even allowed to practice here, that being the case, with the way Yuuri seemingly strummed hearts as though they were strings to be played. If he was Takeshi, Victor would be feeling very insecure right now.

Yuuko narrowed her eyes. “Why would it be? Yuuri may have had romantic feelings for me in the past, but he’s always known I’ve never felt that way for him without my even saying so. We’re family to each other and he’s never pushed his feelings on me! He’s a good guy!”

Tilting his head, Victor asked, “He is?”

Yuuko huffed, her cheeks inflating with ire. Haha, whoopsies. “YES.”

“Hm,” Victor said and unzipped his jacket, leaving it on the bench and making his way to the entrance of the rink. “I guess a lot can change in four years. Sorry, we’ve gotten rather off track.”

He turned around and blew her a winning smile and a wink. “You still don’t mind filming me, do you?”

Yuuko seemed to grind her teeth for a moment, then she huffed again and lifted the phone. “No. But only because Yuuri would kill me for refusing, though.”

Victor shrugged and took off his guards. Whatever worked, he supposed. “Spasibo! I appreciate it very much, Yuuko.”

“Please,” Yuuko said with burning eyes. “Just Nishigori is fine, Mr. Nikiforov.”

And thanks to Yuuri Katsuki, it seemed as though Victor had lost a beloved fan. Oh well. You win some you lose some, Victor tried to reassure himself through the irritation he wouldn’t let show.

“Would you mind playing the second song in the 2016 playlist? The one called ‘eros’,” Victor called back with a wave of his hand.

Yuuri, that goddamned Yuuri, had inspired a lot of feelings within him after that banquet, rejuvenating him and making the ideas burst forth into colourful, vivid paintings of watercolour. Eros was just one of the routines Victor had created as a result, albeit this one came largely from a place of spite, and disappointment, and yes, more yearning. He hadn’t managed to escape Yuuri by coming here after all, Victor thought as the opening guitar chords played and he flowed through the movements on center ice. But he could at least use the fuel of his irritation to smooth out the problem areas in the choreography.

Something about it just never felt right. 

Victor was gratified, at least, that upon coming out of the routine, Yuuko’s eyes had regained a hint of that sparkling shine she’d had the moment she registered him walking in.

When she looked up from the screen at him, though, Victor felt with a jolt that she was looking right through him and wasn’t buying what she was seeing.

‘She knows,’ Came the immediate paranoid thought, but Victor knew it to be the truth. ‘Somehow, she knows exactly why I’m here.’

“It’s beautiful, Mr. Nikiforov.” Her smile grew teeth. “Not to worry. Yuuri will definitely do your hard work justice.”

Victor managed to swallow and smiled widely himself as he skated over to the wall. 

“I really don’t know what you mean,” He said even though he knew her meaning exactly.

That couldn’t be true though, right? Victor took the water bottle as Yuuko passed it to him, paying a somewhat disturbed glance at the ice behind him as he wondered. These were routines he’d created with the full intention of skating them himself come Worlds, he hadn’t made them for anyone else.

Eros had not been created for Yuuri Katsuki.

‘And yet I can’t deny,’ He lifted the nozzle to his lips, shaken and cooled right down to his core. ‘How well it fits.’

It had been a flamenco, hadn’t it, that Yuuri had used to draw Victor in and invite him to dance? Improper as the footwear might have been, the man’s shifting hips, whirlwind feet, and the flirt of his snapping fingers as his arms led the eye up and down the showcase of his splendid form had pulled Victor in as surely as gravity.

God. All he’d done for the last few months had been obsess over that damned man and it seemed as though his brain, mighty coward and rebel that it was, had no intentions of doing anything else, even through the avenues Victor hadn’t foreseen. Maybe he should cancel those tickets and head to Geneva even sooner than he and Chris had planned.

He turned back to the wall and set down the bottle, combing his hair out of his eyes and giving Yuuko a sparkling smile. “May I see?”

“Of course, it’s your phone,” Yuuko said and handed it over, but then leaned in to watch as Viktor played the video.

His instincts continued to itch that this was a dance suited for somebody else, injected with his feelings and his angst though it might be, and Victor wondered if the woman next to him might actually be right. He pushed it away and brought forth the mind to critique instead, noting where he was less than perfect, where a transition could be smoothed over even further, or where a different step might suit a space in the step sequence better. It was riveting, visceral, sexy, and powerful. These were things that suited Victor very well. So why, Victor thought with frustration, did it look like a poorly fitted coat on him?

“You know,” Yuuko said about three quarters through, her eyes lidded, no doubt doing the same thing he was even though he’d never seen her on the circuit. “Whatever it is that’s going on between you and Yuuri, if you just talk about it with him, I’m sure he’ll listen. He is sometimes self-centered. He doesn’t understand the effect he has on people, and that can lead to him being accidentally hurtful.”

Victor found himself meeting her eyes despite himself.

“But it is accidental, Mr. Nikiforov. Yuuri cares. In fact sometimes I think he cares too much.”

Victor smiled. “I really don’t think this is an appropriate conversation, Mrs. Nishigori.”

To his horror he found frustrated tears shortly blooming on the woman’s lashline. 

“For all that we looked up to you-” Yuuko shook her head and slapped the phone down on the wall, turning to stalk away. “Please forgive me, Mr. Nikiforov, I thought I was talking to a person. I’ll send Takeshi to film you, don’t hesitate to continue using the rink as much as you like.”

Victor watched as she left, finding himself of the opinion that, perhaps, Hasetsu just wasn’t for him.

‘I don’t think I’ve ever made people cry out of misery,’ Victor thought, turning to take up his phone again and finding with relief that it was intact. ‘As much as I have today.’

It was not a good feeling. Victor refused to feel guilty for having boundaries, though, and continued to watch himself on the little screen. It was a few minutes later when Mr. Nishigori swept in through the doors with a cheerful looking smile. He also looked a little relieved to see Victor still there.

“Ah, sorry about that! Yuuko might not look it, but she can be feisty when she wants to be.”

Victor made himself laugh and it came as easily as breathing. “It’s not a worry at all, Mr. Nishigori! I’m sorry that I seemed to have upset her. A little firecracker, is she?”

Mr. Nishigori, too, laughed, and it seemed genuine. “It’s a big reason why I fell for her, yes. Loyal, beautiful, passionate, what’s not to love? Now, would you still like someone to film for you, Mr. Nikiforov?”

“Da, I would, if I’m not taking you away from your work?”

“Nothing that can’t wait.” Mr. Nishigori’s smile fell a bit. “We’re hardly busy, after all. Alright. Anything special I need to know about this phone?”