És egyébként kellemes ünnepeket mindenkinek! ^^ Remélem, mindenki túlélte a kajatúladagolást.
“Finally, you persuaded him to stay at home.”
This was the comment which started everything. Yuuri stared at Yakov uncomprehendingly, as the old coach told him that theoretically Viktor shouldn’t have been on the ice for two weeks now and that gave him the creeps.
So this was the reason why Viktor recently preferred the late night practices although he went to sleep early, and that lately he was never seen without a roll bandage on his knees and ankle. Yuuri didn’t want to assume things because if he would have thought about it more seriously, he would have done exactly that, and that never ended up good. Now he felt guilty and angry that he repressed his divinations that something is wrong with Viktor’s smiles, that he is unusually angry if he fails at a jump, or that he hissed more from the pain. If Yuuri asked, he always waved it away that nothing was wrong, everything was alright.
So that was the reason why he spoke on the phone so much lately. With Yakov, with the doctor… with everyone, and Yuuri listened every time anxiously to the conversation which was in Russian and which was too fast for him to follow.
And Viktor probably spoke like that so Yuuri wouldn’t understand it.
Suddenly, Yuuri didn’t even know if he should feel angry or betrayed when Yakov copied him Viktor’s medical papers, from which he didn’t understand anything, but at least he had something to wave before Viktor’s nose when he confronted him that he had been caught. That he is practically banned even from running if he doesn’t want to walk with a halt for the rest of his life. If he wants to use his legs like they’re supposed to.
Yuuri went home with a bitter taste in his mouth, chewing on his lips as he opened the door but Viktor wasn’t home – just like Makkachin. The poodle didn’t greet him anymore on the doorstep because she has been put to sleep a year ago when her illness turned out to be incurable. The loss of her shattered them both and although Yuuri brought up carefully that they could adopt a dog from a dog shelter, Viktor kept aloof from the idea. Yuuri hadn't pushed the issue since because it was hard for him to get used to Makkachin’s presence after Vicchan too. But it also would be good for Viktor if they would have someone to take care of beside themselves, not to mention that Viktor wasn’t able to hand over Makkachin’s old toys and beds. During a cleaning session, Yuuri even found an expired canned dog food which he threw out and didn’t even mention to Viktor.
Theoretically, Viktor went in to the gym that day, but Yuuri had already guessed that was a lie. Last week he stated that he had spent a whole day there when he tumbled into the rink grouchily and now it made sense that he was probably rushing from examination to examination.
Yuuri didn’t understand it. They made an oath to be at each other’s side in health and in sickness. Why had Viktor kept such a thing in secret and why does he want to carry such a weight alone? It happened a lot that Viktor took care of Yuuri when he splayed or strained his ankle. Why doesn’t Viktor allow him to do the same for him?
He looked up at the Latin phrases in Viktor’s clinical evidence but they didn’t make him worry less. It was true that in their sport everybody’s fate was that their joints and cartilage will be ruined from the exertion, but Yuuri didn’t understand why Viktor hid this from him. Yuuri’s knees weren’t the same anymore either and Yuuri did take care of them if they hurt.
Neither of them had the habit to rummage in the other’s belongings – except if the other asked – but Yuuri broke this unspoken promise as he went to Viktor’s side in the bedroom.
As he suspected: all the medicine and roll bandages were in Viktor’s nightstand and Yuuri pulled out the drawer with such a force that it came out from its place and he couldn’t put it back, hands shaking from nerves.
The key clattered in its lock. Yuuri froze, then took a deep breath.
Nothing is wrong, he hasn't done anything wrong, he just needed to make sure about it…
He heard as Viktor rustled with the bags in the kitchen, and Yuuri smoothed a mop of hair behind his ear which had escaped from the ponytail, and got up from the floor.
“Yuuri, dear, where are you?” he heard Viktor’s voice.
As Yuuri stepped into the room, Viktor packed the groceries in the fridge. At least he went to the store. Viktor quietly hummed a melody which Yuuri recognized as the music they chose for their duet last season and his heart sank even more. Viktor’s whole existence brightened when he saw the Japanese man, and he opened his arms for a hug but Yuuri held up one of the medicines. The smile froze on Viktor’s face, his eyes rounding.
“When did you want to tell me about this?” he asked in a sharper voice than he planned.
Viktor opened his mouth to speak, then his eyes fell on the table, noticing the copied pages of the clinical evidence Yuuri left there beneath his scarf when he got home, throwing it off in a hurry. “Where did you get that from?” he whispered instead of an answer.
“Yakov told me a really interesting story today,” Yuuri continued with awakening anger. “He said he’s glad I made you to stay at home. Why do you think that is?”
“Yuuri, it’s nothing. I’ve had this problem for years, you don’t need to…”
“Maybe I don’t understand what is written here but I’ve heard that Yakov and the doctor banned you from doing sports for indefinite time.”
Viktor pressed his lips together stubbornly, his face getting colder from this gesture. Yuuri never thought before that his beloved would ever seem this frigid before him and something squeezed his throat. If he would have known that wishing Viktor back on the ice would cause such consequences, he would have hold his tongue. And although he didn’t win that much anymore – because Yuuri was serious about becoming a five time world champion and he only needed one yet – lately it seemed like Viktor had fun competing.
“Viktor,” he began, seeing the other man wincing because he rarely used his whole first name anymore. “This is not a game. Do you want to continue this until you are physically unable to skate?”
“You wanted me to come back.”
“But I didn’t want to make you hurt yourself!” He raised his voice without noticing, so the worry didn't come completely over him. “You never know where your limit is.”
“I thought you liked to compete against me!”
“Not if your health is the price! I can’t believe I have such an irresponsible coach.”
“It has nothing to do with me being your coach,” Viktor’s voice was sharp, and Yuuri had only heard that before when he had a fight with Yakov or somebody else from the Russian team. But he never used this voice on him. “This is my own business.”
Yuuri’s lips were shaking as he held up his hand with the golden ring. “I’m your husband and your health is my business too. I won’t watch you ruin yourself with your stubbornness.”
“What, you’ll ban me from the ice too?” Viktor asked and Yuuri saw already the parallel with a cheeky immature teenager Yakov always said Viktor took after. Especially when Viktor crumpled the copy and throw it into the dumpster with precise aiming.
“I don’t think you would take me more seriously than Yakov or the doctor if you didn’t even give a fuck to tell me.”
Viktor inhaled sharply. They weren’t used to speaking with each other like that. “I would have told you!”
“When? When you can’t even walk without help?”
“Yuuri, let’s end this. Now.”
“Fine!” Both his voice and lips shaking, he pushed Viktor out of the way, snatched up his bag from the floor, yanked off a light jacket from the hook, and jumped in his shoes, treading down their heels. “I can’t even talk to you.”
Yuuri didn’t hear anything Viktor said after that from the blood thrumming in his ears, and he slammed the door on Viktor when he tried to reach for him. He raced down the stairs and he trustworthily held back the tears until he reached the gate to the street. In the fresh and much cooler air, the tears began to roll down on his face and he ran so he could be far away from the fighting and from how they spoke with each other.
Finally, he ended up at one of the Neva’s canals when he was out of breath after crying and running at the same time. He was so stuck in his own head because of the fight that he didn’t even realize the concerned stares of the passers’. He collapsed on a bench, his mind still wondering where he should go for the night. At the moment, he didn’t even want to see his husband and he was sure Viktor felt the same too. When they were fighting, it usually took a couple of hours till they calmed down but Yuuri didn’t want to beat around the bush in the apartment till it happened.
He considered his chances. He could go to a hotel but he wasn’t sure that he could take the cold loneliness of the room. He got so angry he still gasped for air just like when he was having a panic attack. As he watched his surroundings more closely, he noticed a subway and it crossed his mind that Yurio’s apartment was just five stations from here. Yuuri knew that no matter how grumpy the boy was, he would take pity on him because Yuri spent a lot of nights at their place in the past when he was still living with Yakov and Lilia, when he was sick of their fighting. Yes, he will grumble about why Yuuri hadn't said it earlier but he will take him in. Maybe if Yuuri could call him now…
He dug into his bag and as he pulled out his phone, he remembered that the battery was low already in the middle of day. No problem, at least Viktor won’t call him when he calmed down. He should know too how it feels like to be worried about someone you love.
He got himself together so that he wouldn’t take the subway while crying. He was able to let himself in the house where Yurio lived with the code he memorized when they helped him move in. Then he climbed the three floors and rang the bell but nobody answered. Suddenly, Yuuri felt the urge to bang on the wood, kick into something, and make a scene.
Yuri and Otabek had a day off tomorrow which usually meant they went out. How big was the chance that they will be back before dawn and they will be sober?
Despite it being summer, it was chilly in the hallway so Yuuri pulled on the jacket he grabbed at home. It was one of Viktor’s that he started to wear in the autumn weather. It even had a scarf in the arm which he stuck into his bag because he could smell Viktor’s scent on the jacket because of it. He sat down on the stairs and waited, his new thoughts chewing on his insides.
Viktor said let's end this. He couldn’t have meant it like their marriage, could he? Yes, they were talking to each other really roughly but it was to be expected that the honeymoon phase would be over and someday the other’s stubbornness would be really nerve-wrecking. They had had fights before and they always made up afterwards. And anyway, Yuuri was right, Viktor shouldn’t have kept this a secret. Then Yuuri told him that it was impossible to talk with him and slapped the door in his face. What if he accidentally hit Viktor with it? Yuuri couldn’t hold back the new tears from gushing out.
He must have dozed off in the self-loathing because he was woken up with loud laughter which echoed in the staircase. He could recognize Yuri’s uproarious voice and Otabek’s bass calming him so he wouldn’t be too loud and wake the neighbours up, because neither of them wanted to get a complaint for being too noisy.
Yuuri just raised his head from his knees as the pair arrived at the flight of stairs. Yuri being a head taller than the other, clung onto Otabek’s shoulder who held his awkwardly tall-grown body. Going by the scene, they had had a few beers, especially Yuri. However, Yuri finished the loud laughing only when he had noticed Yuuri huddling up on the stairs.
“Katsudon, what the fuck are you doing here?”
Yuuri gulped. He expected this. “Can I sleep at your place, please?” After four years knowing each other, it was easier to ask and not that Yuuri had so many choices. He wouldn't go to Mila and her parents.
“We wanted to fuck,” Yuri blurted out with his usual honesty. Otabek let him go, supporting him on the wall when he was sure he wouldn’t roll down the stairs and went to open the door.
“How long have you been waiting here?”
Yuuri tried to remember as he couldn’t see his watch in the dark. Otabek began to jump up and down to turn on the automatic lighting.
“I have no idea.”
Yuuri’s limbs were numb from sitting on the floor for hours, his head throbbing with pain from the sudden movement. Otabek let him in first, then went to recollect Yuri who slapped his hand away, wobbling in to the apartment on his own.
“What happened?” Otabek asked, closing the door and filling each of them a glass of water. Yuri drank his right away then he looked in the fridge for anything edible. Yuuri didn’t dare to drink it because he feared the tears would have supply again.
“You look like shit,” Yuri stated what he already knew. Maybe Yuuri could scare himself too if he would look into the mirror.
“I had a fight with Viktor.”
Yuri snorted. “You can do that?”
Yuuri gave him a dark gaze.
“Don’t be an ass, Yura.”
“He was banned from the ice for undefined time and he didn’t tell me a word about it. He just came to train with me in the evenings when Yakov wasn’t there anymore.”
“Typical.”
“Did you know about it?” Yuuri suddenly blinked up from his glass but the boys were shaking their heads.
“No, but it’s not like he hasn't done anything like that before.”
“Great,” Yuuri groaned, pulling his bag into his lap.
“Do you have any clothes to change into?” Otabek asked.
He shook his head. “I have only my training clothes.”
“Fuck you, we have to do the laundry because of you!”
“Yura,” said Otabek softly. Yuri vanished into the bathroom (and judging by the curses, he was packing into the washing machine), while Otabek got him a grey t-shirt and pants so Yuuri had something to sleep in. Yuuri thanked the fates that he wasn't the same size as Yuri anymore because he hadn't got bored of the leopard-print and cat-ears yet despite already being nineteen.
From behind the couch, Potya snuck out meowing at Yuuri before she jumped in his lap. Yuuri automatically stroked her soft, light fur and the cat burst out in loud purring. Yuri said that Potya was gratuitously fond of the Japanese skater, and she betrayed him as soon as Yuuri set foot in the apartment.
So, if he is lucky, Potya would be his sleeping partner for today. Yuuri already missed Viktor’s warm embrace and for a moment he wanted to hit himself for being angry before he talked with him about the situation and that he couldn’t handle it normally.
Soon, Yuri yelled that he was done and Yuuri could come put his clothes in the machine and take a shower. Yuuri was glad that he could finally get away from Otabek’s searching look. Yuuri liked Otabek, but he didn’t want to talk about their problems because his gaze always felt like he could read anybody’s mind, and that’s why it was really hard to lie to him.
The hot water refreshed him a bit and he forbade himself to think about Viktor because when he looked into the mirror, he could see a red eyed Yuuri Nikiforov-Katsuki, who he hadn't seen for a long time. He mustn’t get angry again, he didn't need the sobering Yuri yelling at him for how pathetic they were.
He was wiping his hair when he heard Yuri shouting in the living room.
“Fuck, Katsudon, Viktor called me at least ten times already. Why can’t you just pick up your phone?!”
Yuuri inhaled sharply. “I don’t want to speak with him yet.”
“I won’t be your postman!”
Yuuri’s lips shook as he answered. “My phone’s battery was low.”
Oddly, Yuri didn’t have any rude answer to that. Maybe Otabek told him not to pick at him. When he emerged from the bathroom in his temporary pyjamas, the boys had already made the couch for him and they were munching chips, leaning on the sink. They offered him some snacks too but Yuuri didn’t have any appetite. After the shower, he felt the tiredness of the day hitting him with full force, especially after the training, the fighting and sitting on the cold stairs for hours.
Without a word, he laid under the blanket so he wouldn't be so noticeable then soon after Yuri and Otabek wished him good night. Otabek encouraged him to make tea or eat if he found something he likes in the fridge.
Yuuri closed his eyes tightly but he couldn’t fall asleep immediately. In the silence of the night, he heard his hosts talking about them behind the closed door. That Viktor got what he deserved and he is lucky that Yuuri tolerates him and doesn’t constantly recount his mistakes to him. These words hurt because he doesn’t just tolerate Viktor – he loves him even if he behaves like a big child sometimes. Otabek thought one could understand Viktor’s point of view too. Even if it wasn’t correct what he did, Otabek didn’t doubt that they could make up with each other. Yuuri pulled a pillow on his head and pressed it on his ears so he wouldn’t hear anything except his own breathing and the thrumming of his heart. Potya, who was shut out of the bedroom, laid down next to him, nudging his elbow with her rosy nose and laying on his arm as she began to purr. Yuuri dozed off to this sound.
~*~
Those same words Yuuri said in Barcelona once, the words that had made Viktor cry too and the words that almost ruined their relationship.
Knowing Yuuri, he was at the edge of crying as he dashed out and as much as Viktor wanted to go after him to make it up to him, he didn’t do anything. He knew they needed some time to calm down their heads, so they’ll could talk with each other like normal grown-ups. If he would have gone after him now, there would have been more fighting.
Viktor collapsed on the couch and buried his face in his hands. They might have had some disagreements but this wasn’t like those. They simply never spoke with each other in that tone. Yuuri yelled when he was angry but that stiff sternness in which he pulled him up was completely new. Just like he caught himself being arrogant with him.
Yuuri was right but Viktor didn’t want him to worry about him. His husband tended to overthink everything, and Viktor didn’t want to put his own problems on his shoulders too.
But without a doubt, he did more harm than good with hiding it. He walked into Yuuri’s heart with not telling him, smilingly denying when his legs hurt. Maybe he blames himself now that Viktor’s condition worsened because he let him skate without knowing about it.
Viktor knew he was harming himself, but he didn’t want to refuse the ice that drew him together with the love of his life. Yuuri wouldn’t even let him close to the rink if he saw his clinical evidences from the beginning because he knew Viktor exactly. That he couldn’t have withstood to skate. Even when he was just Yuuri’s coach, he was more on the ice with him than an average coach and together they ran over the elements till Viktor could keep Yuuri’s pace.
And that was part of the problem too. Viktor had to admit no matter how awful it is but he wasn’t twenty anymore and his stamina wasn’t so good like Yuuri’s or the other young skaters’, not to mention the fresh seniors who had still all their chances to develop, they had dreams and fresh joints not worn out from quadruple flips yet. Yuri constantly barked at him, calling him an old man who should already retire and Viktor had the feeling it wasn’t just mocking anymore. Yakov hadn't bothered anymore even saying there was still a season in him. Instead of that, he gave Viktor tips for various carrier chances. After Yuuri’s several successes, Yakov would have taken him as an assistant although Viktor still didn’t have the official qualification for that.
Of course, it would have been such an accomplishment to be a coach with Yakov’s recommendation but Viktor was terrified that if he is done with competing for good, nothing would be the same anymore. That he would be forgotten as a competitor; the retired Chris wasn’t invited out by the active skaters that much either…
He was terrified that Yuuri would come down from the clouds and realize that Viktor wasn't able to tell him stories and miracles carved in ice anymore. Because Yuuri fell in love with his skating first.
Something might be lost from their relationship if he wasn't competing anymore.
He gave Yuuri two hours to calm down then tried to call him but his phone was shut off. This was usually not something he would worry about but it was already ten in the evening and although it was still bright, he didn’t want Yuuri to walk around in Saint Petersburg alone so late.
His next idea was Yuri but when he called, he didn’t answer it no matter how many times Viktor called him. Next, he called Yakov, who lectured him for bothering him so late and said that he deserved what he got. He asked Georgi, Mila and some ice-dancers they were on good terms with if they knew where Yuuri was but they couldn’t help him either.
He was just about to slide into the deepest pit of despair when his phone beeped after midnight.
He is here, loser, Yuri wrote. And then: you’re an asshole.
For once, Viktor agreed with Yuri.
~*~
Yuuri woke up much later than usual, with an aching back and Potya purring beside him. His arm was numb under her weight. It was a strange feeling to wake up without somebody telling him to; usually Viktor woke him up even if they had a free day.
As his husband came to his mind, his heart sank, remembering the fight. He shouldn’t have attacked him like that… but if he brought the issue up gently, then he’d never have gotten an answer. Yuuri was still angry with him for keeping his condition a secret, but now it was mixed with disappointment.
Sitting up, he noticed his phone on the table. Yurio must have put it on the charger when he was taking a shower yesterday, and Yuuri picked it up after a bit of hesitation, turning it on. He had at least twenty missed calls from Viktor – he was a person who called everybody until they picked up. He sent messages too, and the lines were blurry before Yuuri’s eyes without his glasses. Let’s talk, I’m so sorry, where are you, I’ll come get you…Yuuri was unable to read it all. His stomach was in knots when he thought about the talk ahead of them. What if Viktor hated him now?
I need time, he wrote, shutting his phone down. He leaned back with his lower arm pressed before his eyes, and took deep breaths as he repeated do not overthink this, don’t, don’t, don’t over and over again, but it didn’t help. Viktor overdid himself because of his reckless request, and he counted as the oldest among the active figure skaters. He worked stubbornly and smiled with his teeth clenched whenever Yurio beat him on the Nationals or the European Championship.
Now that Yuuri finally saw what it costed, he had a bitter taste in his mouth, and he was ashamed that he didn’t notice the pain earlier. Viktor was a good actor towards the outside world, but Yuuri thought that he could read his husband like an open book. But no, he did as Viktor wished, he let himself believe that there isn’t any problem if Viktor is smiling.
His stomach rumbled, but he didn’t have any appetite. Potya jumped off from him as if it was a sign, and began meowing. Yuuri stroked the cat below her chin.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what your owner feeds you,” he told her quietly in Japanese, and Potya looked at him so insulted as if she had understood it. She jumped off of the couch, running towards the bedroom with her tail up, literally bumping into the door before starting to scratch the wood with a loud meowing. Suddenly, she reminded Yuuri of Yurio, and he almost laughed when he heard a thud and an angry yell.
So this was Yuri and Otabek's alarm.
Yuri was terribly shaggy and grumpy despite it was almost noon already, but Otabek acknowledged Yuuri’s accented dobroye utro as they entered the kitchen in hopes of breakfast.
It was a stupid feeling that he practically slept through the half of the day. In normal circumstances, he would have been already running at the canal before seven in the morning, most likely with Viktor.
If Viktor doesn’t listen to anybody, the jogs together will be over too. Of course, he can’t lock Viktor in the apartment, but maybe he can come up with a sanction Viktor would take seriously.
He shook his head. No, he won’t bribe him with no sex, he won’t go that far.
Yuuri concluded he was not in a state of mind to go and train. Probably he would fail all his jumps as he would be so busy thinking about Viktor’s condition. Yakov would understand it if he explains the situation later…
“I won’t watch you feeling sorry for yourself.” Yuri sat down beside him with a plate. “Eat because I want to make chopped cubes out of you if you’re staying here.”
Eventually, it was good for him that Yuri made him play video games. Sometimes Otabek joined them if they needed a third player, but he was mostly busy reading his required books while Yuri and Yuuri killed zombies and yelled at each other. Actually, Yuuri learned all the Russian swearwords because of Yuri, and sometimes he still heard new ones he tried to engrave in his vocabulary.
At least doing that distracted his attention from Viktor.
In the late afternoon, Yuuri cooked in exchange for the hospitality so they didn’t need to order food. When he was cutting the vegetables with grating exactitude, he heard Yuri talking to someone. He cluttered in his usual way with an aggressive tone, and Yuuri heard his name a couple of times. Then, Yuri handed him the phone, and Yuuri could guess who was on the line.
“Behave like an adult,” he growled, but Yuuri just snorted because he remembered how Viktor reacted when he confronted him yesterday.
“I will when he does the same.”
Yuri probably didn’t fling at him his phone just because Yuuri had a big knife in his hand. Instead of that, he put the call on speaker.
“He doesn’t want to talk to me, right?” Viktor’s voice was hoarse, he sounded exhausted, and there was no sign of his usual cheerfulness. “Could you ask him if he’d come home today? I know he said he needs time, but… I miss him.”
“I won’t listen to this,” Yuri mumbled. “Come here then, and tell him that yourself.”
“I’m afraid he doesn’t want to see me.”
The knife knocked on the wooden table as Yuuri dropped it, fleeing from the kitchen He heard Viktor’s surprised yelp as he realized that Yuri put him on the speaker, then he locked himself in the bathroom.
No, he clearly wasn’t prepared for the talk, to face what they threw at each other’s heads. Suddenly, he wanted to be alone to think about his feelings, maybe it would help if he cried again, but Yuri kicked the door, telling Yuuri not to hide in his apartment in the bathroom to get depressed.
“Hey, Katsudon, what the hell was that? If you don’t want to go home just tell him that, but I won’t listen to his whining.”
“Yura, calm down, that’s their own business,” Otabek interjected.
“Not when Viktor is whining to me!”
Yuuri got up with a shaking sigh, and washed his face.
One day. He definitely needed one more day to be able to talk to Viktor with a calm head, and to figure out what he would tell him.
~*~
Viktor slept terribly without Yuuri. He kept turning side to side because he didn’t have anybody to cuddle with, he missed Yuuri’s body heat and his presence, and at some point, he was thinking about going to the living room and sleep on the couch, but he knew his back and waist would hurt. Finally, he covered himself with Yuuri’s blanket, and buried his face into his pillow where he could smell his husband’s scent. It wasn't easy, but he fell asleep eventually.
There was one good thing about being caught: he didn’t have to come up with excuses to explain where he was going when he had an examination. But the chances that anybody would let him on the ice after this were almost zero. He would be glad if Yuuri spoke him by the weekend. Iit hurt when he wrote that he needed time. Usually, Yuuri’s anger was gone quickly, and after a few hours they made up. He must have crossed a line if Yuuri wasn’t even willing to talk to him.
The doctor, during the examination, asked him what was aching way too cheerfully, then nodded quite sympathetically, saying that it was the curse of this sport. He also added some advice that he should rest his whole body, and no, he is not allowed to run, it’s better to forget even about walking fast as well, and he has to pay attention to his steps.
Viktor was in a really bad mood when he got home, and as he passed by the shop they usually went for groceries, he realised he could call Yurio. Maybe that way Yuuri would be willing to talk to him, or at least he would give a sign of him. Yurio showed his advanced diplomatic skills when he put the call on the speaker, and Yuuri just fled from him – he was probably still angry.
Viktor felt pathetic to be so addicted to the presence of his husband. He couldn’t even give him space.
He dragged himself up the stairs, his knees crackling with every step, and he let himself into the silent and empty apartment which felt as lonely as when he lived here alone. He turned on the TV as background noise, trying to convince himself to pay attention to the news as he slowly dozed off.
~*~
Next day Yuuri was more tired than he expected, but he couldn’t escape from the training anymore – and he didn’t want to hide behind the fact that he fought with his main coach. He listened to Yakov’s scolding about if he wants to catch up to Viktor or even wants to surpass him in World Championship titles, he can’t relax and miss the training just because he was in a bad mood. Viktor worked out his body and soul to be at the top of the world, and Yuuri should follow his example. Yuuri nodded and skated without complaint until his time was up.
The ice helped to ease the anger he felt because of Viktor’s secret and the injuries he caused himself. It didn’t matter that Yuuri wanted to retire back at age 23. Now, after four years, he had no intention of leaving the ice. Always the same pattern: one more year, and the next because of the Olympics, and why not go on when he has titles to defend after all…
Realistically, Yuuri knew that his third Olympics would be the last he competes at, and with Yuri, Otabek, Phichit and Seung-gil in his footsteps he didn’t have much chance to protect his title, not to mention the other younger competitors who are at the peak of their strength. It didn't matter if he had a good stamina, he was getting old too, not to mention Viktor.
“How is Vitya?” Yakov asked at the end of the day when Yuuri sat tiredly down on the bench to take off his skates. It seemed like Yakov didn’t want to scold him for the day he missed anymore, so Yuuri dared to look at him.
“He didn't react well when I confronted him.”
“It was to be expected,” the older man nodded. “Vitya has always been endlessly stubborn, and no wonder he kept this a secret. He needs someone to hold him back when he is about to do something stupid.”
Yuuri bit his bottom lip guiltily. He didn’t even realize something was wrong until it was too late.
“He will listen to you, you have always had a good influence on him.” Yakov handed him a thick folder. “Give this to him, there are some job offers he might be interested in when he retires.”
Yuuri took the folder. It was a new one, and not as creased as he was used to seeing in Yakov’s office. He had known for long that the relationship between Viktor and Yakov was much more than a simple student-coach one, but he discovered a new layer of Yakov’s care every time. After all, Viktor was the student who stayed for the longest time because Yakov’s coaching style wasn’t for everybody. Moreover, Yakov took Viktor in when he had no place to go home. Of course he would take care of him even after he stoppped competing actively. Yuuri had heard some rumours that Yakov wanted Viktor to take over his place when he went into well-deserved retirement for good.
After he promised he'd pass Yakov’s message and good wishes, Yuuri was free to go to shower. The hot water eased his limbs, and somehow it was like all his anger and frustration was gone. He felt like he was ready to go home, and that he wouldn’t scream at Viktor the second he remembered how Viktor didn’t take care of himself.
While showering, he wasn’t careful enough, and a part of his hair got wet. When he tried to pull the hair band out of his hair, it got tangled. Sometimes he got tired of having long hair, and he wouldn’t even have had the patience to grow it, or would have gotten rid of it, if Viktor wasn’t so excited to make intricate hairstyles for competitions. Sometimes he didn’t even recognise himself in the mirror looking at himself with long hair. Where did the shy, short-haired Japanese guy that wanted nothing more than to blend into the crowd go? When did he find the courage to stand out? Viktor had the biggest influence on him: he gave him self-confidence, and he made an Olympic and multiple-time world champion out of him. And a worried husband.
They were responsible for each other.
“Shit, don’t pull it like that, it creeps me out,” Yurio spoke behind him when Yuuri was sitting on the bench with a towel around his waist, trying to pull the hair rubber out of his wet hair even more impatiently. He startled guiltily.
“I can’t pull it out.”
“Loser,” Yuri snorted, but he leant to him, unravelling the tangle surprisingly gently. “I don’t understand why you even force the long hair when you wear it in a ponytail anyway.”
“Viktor likes it,” he blurted out, and he realised right away how stupid that might sound.
“You should think about yourself for once.”
Suddenly, there was an idea forming in Yuuri. What if he surprised Viktor? “Do you know an English-speaking hair dresser somewhere near-by?”
Yuri stared at him, horrified. “I don’t go to hairdressers, I cut it myself.”
“Why?”
“I didn't have the money earlier so I learned to cut it myself. And anyway, two years ago when Lilia brought me to a hairdresser who was supposed to be good, he almost made me bald. All of them are crappy, I don’t trust them.”
“Oh, I see.”
Then the only solution was to look for one that spoke English well enough to understand what Yuuri exactly want. Or Yuuri could just show a picture of the style he wanted…
“I can cut it for you if you want.”
“No, no, I don’t want to cause you problems.”
If he didn't know the boy well enough by now, the gaze Yuri gave him would have creeped him out.
“You’ve been fucking around at our place for two days, so it doesn’t matter now.”
No matter how serious Yuri turned out to be in three years, Yuuri was happy to be far from him if he had a sharp item in his hand. He was about to state that Yuri didn’t need to cut his hair, and he would solve it himself, but then Otabek spoke from the door. With that, everything was settled.
“He does mine too, you can trust him.”
This was how he found himself at Yuri and Otabek’s place again. He wanted to go home and talk to Viktor already, but Yuri made him sit down in front of the bathroom mirror, laying a towel on his shoulders and lap. Then Yuri said that he must not move because he refuses to take responsibility if he cuts his hair wrong because of it. Yuuri froze immediately. Yuri asked what he wanted only one time, then worked silently, not starting shallow, small talk. Yuuri was grateful for that.
Yuri cut the long locks without mercy or any question, then he grabbed an electric razor to cut the hair short at the back. Yuuri shivered when he felt the device vibrating at his neck, but he tried to stay still, not wanting to make Yuri’s warning come true. Yuri cut his bangs so they weren't in his eyes anymore, and Yuuri was surprised how much of his face was visible after that. It was also surprising that he looked exactly like the day he first met Viktor.
“You look like a school boy now, Katsudon. I don’t get why age doesn’t affect you.” Yuri shoved a mirror in his hand so he could see what his new hairstyle looked like from behind. His head felt less heavy and without the weight, his short locks were sticking up. Yuuri hoped his locks would slick to their place once he washed his hair because he looked like as if he had been electrocuted. Maybe it was a mistake to let Yuri cut it? What if Viktor laughed at him for looking like a child?
“Crap, don’t you dare to cry now, I can’t glue it back.”
“Thank you, Yurio.” Suddenly turning around, he caught the boy to give him a bone-crushing hug, and Yuri let him grumpily. He even patted his back. “I guess I won’t bother you anymore.”
"Finally."
Yuuri suspected that Yuri didn’t mind having him around – Yuuri even cooked for them, and washed the dishes. Yuri was too lazy to do it if it wasn’t something sweet. Yuuri picked up his things quickly, turned on his phone, and led himself out of the dark building to the fresh air.
He was going home. He and Victor would have to talk it over, and then he would go with him to his next examination and support him, and everything would be alright between them like before.
If the Olympics weren't so near, he would even consider retiring with him. However, he knew that everybody was expecting him to try and defend his title, even if he realistically didn't have that much of a chance to do it.
~*~
Viktor didn’t count with his ankle being the first part of his body to hurt as his feet touched the ground when he sat up, looking for his slippers. He cried out, and brought his hand to his ankle; it was throbbing, and was maybe a bit warmer than it should be. Viktor pressed his foot carefully – he won’t jump with this for a while. Hissing, he stood up, stumbling to the kitchen. As he heated up the rest of his coffee, he scrolled through the conversation they had with his sister yesterday. Mentally, he wasn’t feeling well either, and since Georgi was occupied with his relationship, he wrote to Katya about his problems, and usually, his sister sympathised with him. This time, she suggested Viktor to talk it over with Yuuri, but no matter how hard Viktor tried to do so in the past few days, Yuuri was slipping away from his grip.
He put some pressure on his foot carefully, but it was still throbbing painfully. He won’t be able to go anywhere with his foot aching so much, and he was hungry, but the pain made him not wanting to cook. Not to mention that he wouldn’t be able to stand at the stove like that.
His gaze fell on his phone. The last message was from Katya: a bunch of emoji, maybe her little son got his hand on the device. Viktor texted her about how his situation was still the same with Yuuri, and his foot wasn’t really well.
He wasn’t aware that his sister was currently on a holiday, and she would show up with a few boxes of food.
Ekaterina Zharkova (born as Nikiforova) seemed like she didn’t age even in her forties, after giving birth to three children already. With her burning energy, as she was running up and down, she couldn’t deny the fact that she’s related to Viktor. Even though it was obvious since their smile and hair was the same, only that the woman’s hair was a little bit darker. She didn’t go into unnecessary chit-chats, and came to the point instead.
“Tell me, what have you done to chase that poor boy away?”
Viktor just groaned on the couch, raising his swollen foot. Katya snorted, shaking her head.
“Typical. I thought you would at least pay attention to each other since you both are breaking yourselves on the ice.”
“Maybe I didn’t tell him. You know how much he worries.”
“So you rather waited until he finds out and you fight because of it.”
“I didn’t think he’d go nuts this much!”
“Think about it, Vitya,” Katya began, bustling in the kitchen as she heated up the borsch on the stove, and judging by the rattling, she was looking for the plates. “How would you react if he kept such a secret from you?”
Viktor had thought it through earlier, and he had to admit that he would have been furious to Yuuri too – after all, he is his coach. Taking care of his own self, and admitting that maybe he was overdoing himself was really hard. It didn’t matter how much he learned to lean on others since he has been together with Yuuri, it was still hard to admit if he needed help.
“What should I do now?” he yelped.
“Eat.” Katya handed him a tray with the soup-bowl. “And then apologize to him.”
“He probably doesn’t even want to see me. What if he doesn’t want to come home today either?”
“I don’t think that’s likely,” she patted his shoulder. “But you need to talk this over. Just like before. A marriage doesn’t contain only the honeymoon phase, don’t think that this would be the only time that you fight.”
“I know,” he groaned. “But I hate it when he is mad with me. When he’s angry with me he does this, he doesn’t talk to me, but he hasn’t done this for this long before, and…”
“And?”
Viktor’s heart sank, a bitter pain spreading across in his chest. “And I told him to let’s end this. He couldn’t have gotten it wrong, could he?”
“You need more for a break up, you are not fifteen anymore.”
“But… He told me the same in Barcelona.” Viktor choked, and his eyes were burning as he noticed with a slight shock that he was on the edge of crying again. He didn’t want to cry, he felt miserable enough for dragging Katya to nurse him.
“You’re overthinking it,” Katya said, stroking his hair as she pulled him close. Viktor clung on her as if he was a teenager again that feels lost in the wide world because he has no place to call home. Viktor’s shoulders were shaking. “Everything will be fine, you were both stupid, that happens sometimes. Now calm down, eat and then you call him up. I can stay until afternoon while Nikita is in the kindergarten.”
“He won’t pick it up,” he sniffled. Katya pulled out a crumpled tissue from her pocket.
“He will.”
Viktor blew his nose, somehow managing to calm down to eat from the food. It smelled good. He didn’t feel that miserable as he was full, and Katya made a pack for his foot before sitting down next to him to show him pictures about her children, distracting him from the sadness. But it reminded him of a talk they had with Yuuri one night. Yuuri asked him with blushing face what he thinks about having children on their own because Katya’s last baby looked so good in Viktor’s hands and his nieces adored him too. Viktor was so amazed by this that he didn’t answer for a good thirty seconds. Yuuri thought he said something wrong, wanting to wrap his arms around Viktor’s neck, crying and apologising, saying that of course they don’t have to, if Viktor doesn’t want it, there’s no need to fulfil every single one of Yuuri’s dreams. But Viktor wanted it. A child is a really big responsibility, and since Makkachin wasn’t with them, Viktor even doubted that he could take care of himself. He could do anything for Yuuri, he loved spoiling him, but doing things for himself wasn’t that exciting.
When his foot began to throb again, Katya gave him painkillers without asking anything, ordering him to rest so firmly that he didn’t dare to say no. He wanted to call Yuuri to talk to him, but he was terrified to face rejection again. He couldn’t listen to Katya’s nagging anymore because it hurt that she was right. Viktor was relieved when his sister finally left him alone, leaving him to himself with his thoughts and guilt.
~*~
Yuuri was right at the canal when his phone rang. His eyes widened at the name on the display. It was Katya, Viktor’s older sister – what could she want from him? Whenever they spoke they did it on Viktor’s phone… Viktor, there must be something wrong with Viktor, and Yuuri started to feel worried again as he almost couldn’t pick up the phone in the hurry.
“Yes?”
“Yuuri, I don’t want to involve myself,” Katya began without saying hello, and her friendly voice sounded unusually serious. “But go home as soon as possible, Viktor isn’t feeling well.”
Yuuri gasped.
“I mean, don’t worry,” she added quickly because she knew him already well enough to know that he worries about everything, often unnecessarily. “It is not that serious, but he can’t really walk now and…”
“I’m going.”
He didn’t pay any attention to the crowds, he began to run real fast, and still heard Katya’s well wishes through the phone before ending the call. He made the way home as quickly as never before, his sides ached as he was breathing fast. He was grateful that some neighbours always forget to lock the gates so he didn’t have to screw around with the keys.
“Vitya?” he called him, heart sinking as he stopped at the doorstep unsurely.
“Yuuri!” He heard Viktor’s voice from the couch, then he saw his head as Viktor sat up. He didn’t jump to greet him but groaned painfully. Yuuri didn’t even put his bag down, just ran up to him with his shoes still on. Yuuri fell on his knees beside him, wrapping his arms around Viktor’s neck, squeezing him into a hug. “Last night I thought you wouldn’t come home.”
“I’m sorry, I was stupid,” Yuuri whispered, burying his face into his neck. “I was… I was furious because you hurt yourself, and I couldn’t bear watching you in pain.”
Viktor began rocking him gently. “I was the stupid one, I didn’t want you to worry.”
“Can I worry now, though? Katya said you can’t walk.”
“Did you talk to her?” There was some surprise and guilt rushing through Viktor’s face.
“Show me your feet.” Yuuri pulled back from the embrace, stroking down his leg, and he touched his swollen ankle. “For how long has it been like this?”
“It became swollen by this morning, although I didn’t strain it. Katya made pack on it, but it fell off when I was sleeping.”
Yuuri shook his head. “I hope you know you can’t use your feet. And no lifting either.”
“Yes, sir,” Viktor tried to salute, but he raised the wrong hand to his forehead. Yuuri laughed, taking his face between his hands and kissing his hair.
Yuuri was bustling around, boiling some water for tea, making packs for Viktor’s leg, and checked the fridge which wasn’t as empty as he expected. Katya probably brought Viktor food when she was there. Yuuri was glad there was something in the fridge. He thought he wouldn’t be in the mood to make proper food. Turning back, he caught Viktor staring at him with his mouth open, and out of habit, he reached to touch his own shoulder to play with one of his long locks, but it wasn’t there anymore.
“What happened to your hair?” Viktor asked quietly, and Yuuri bit on his lip.
“I asked Yurio to cut it.”
“Oh… I’ll miss it.”
And Yuuri was suddenly hit by a bad feeling. Viktor got rid of his long hair because he considered his first relationship as ended, and maybe he would take it as the end now. For a moment, he wanted to glue back the annoying, long locks of hair although he knew it’s impossible. It was a sudden, stupid idea to cut them, and Viktor surely doesn’t like it…
“I’m sorry for not telling you about it.”
“What? Why? It’s your hair, I can understand if it was annoying, long hair is a pain,” Viktor smiled, but this wasn’t easing the strange, dull lack of his cut hair Yuuri felt now.
Only a few hours later, as they were cuddling under the warm blanket, did Viktor realise how Yuuri might have taken his comment. Earlier, Yuuri stated straight that he wouldn’t have sex with Viktor in this condition, but he was fine with petting and satisfying each other with hands. Especially when Viktor convinced him that orgasm can ease pain.
“I really like your hair,” Viktor said out of the blue, running his fingers through Yuuri’s hair. Yuuri gazed up at him frowning, lifting his head up from Viktor’s chest.
“No sex for today no matter how nice things you say.”
“No, Yuuri, seriously!” Viktor grasped Yuuri’s hair the way he liked it, and Yuuri moaned quietly. “I love it. It was the same when we met.”
“I look like a high school student.” Yuuri hid his face to Viktor’s neck while Viktor caressed the locks between his fingers.
“It doesn’t bother me, you’re my high school student.”
Yuuri snorted, laughing. He felt Viktor shaking a bit from his breath on his sensitive skin on his neck. “Does it make you a perverted, old teacher who seduces his students then?” he whispered.
“Yuuri, why are you so mean to me?”
He pulled his face away from his neck, rising further to lean to Viktor’s ear, biting on his earlobe playfully. He bit the part of Viktor’s ear which he pierced when he was a teenager. He didn’t let go of it until Viktor moaned.
“Because you’re mean to yourself. You always come with your age, and you’re only four years older than me.”
Viktor sighed. “That’s an eternity in our career.”
“I know.” Yuuri gave a gentle kiss on the place he bit him. “That’s why I don’t want you to torture yourself anymore.” He drew away from him, leaning on his elbows to look into his eyes. “I made a translation of your medical records, Vitya. I know it’s bad and that it hurts, but I don’t want you to hurt yourself just to meet everyone’s standards. You could take this as a new beginning, and Yakov would be happy to have you as a full-time coach.”
It was something they didn’t expect – that Yakov would accept Viktor as a coach, and that he would approve him that much that he offers him such an honour. Yakov had to admit that even if Viktor didn’t have a degree of it, he was good, and not only at choreographing. And it wasn’t a negligible fact either that he had already trained an Olympic gold medallist and a multiple world champion at such a young age.
Viktor exhaled long after Yuuri’s monolog, and he got scared for a moment that they might argue again because of the older man’s dying competing career.
“I think I had enough of the pain.”
“Right,” Yuuri nodded. “I can go with you to the examinations too if you don’t want to go alone.”
It didn’t matter how strong he tried to be, he choked when he said the word ‘retire’ out loud. Yuuri pulled him gently to his chest as Viktor wept over his career, his shoulder was shaking. Yuuri let some tears to fall because he hated to see Viktor being sad, and he knew his decision means the end of a big era. On the other side, he was glad that Viktor gave up on being stubborn, and admitted that he had to make this step.
~*~
It took weeks until Viktor was able to step into the rink without the burning emptiness left by the retirement in his chest. He still raised his head to Yakov’s screaming which wasn’t for him – except if he wanted to step on the ice because it was still forbidden. But the therapy went well, and his legs were hurting less than earlier. The doctors encouraged him, saying that he may be able to start to train carefully by winter and demonstrate choreographies if he does fine at the therapies and heals fine.
Without a quadruple flip, of course. Moreover, he can forget about all quadruples for now.
Viktor couldn’t complain, there were others to take his legacy. Yuuri was serious about the fifth gold, and Yuri was successfully landing the quadruple flip most of the times as he wanted Yuuri’s gold at any cost. Viktor was really glad that they had become friends after all these years, and motivated each other to develop.
Autumn had arrived, and without the training, Viktor didn’t really have any motivation to take big walks in the city. Temporarily, he had to neglect jogs with Yuuri. No matter how much he whined about it, his husband refused it until the doctor says it’s alright. Viktor knew that it’s not worth a fight because Yuuri only wants the best for him. Just like Yakov, and Viktor was still amazed that he can get that coach job from him once he healed.
More and more, he caught himself watching the dog walkers with envy. He missed Makkachin beyond measure, and knew that no dog could replace her, but Yuuri was right when he said he shouldn’t let grief take over on him.
“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Yuuri asked carefully for the last time when they prepared themselves to leave for the dog shelter. “You don’t have to just because I want it.”
They talked through the topic repeatedly, and Yuuri’s enthusiasm and unusual positive attitude was infectious. Viktor realized that he will never be over losing Makkachin if he doesn’t give a chance for a new dog.
“Of course, solnyshko,” Viktor smiled at Yuuri. “I’ll be alright. And we shouldn’t leave them hanging when we already spoke with them, right?”
Yuuri squeezed his upper arm reassuringly, with obvious excitement on his face.
The only thing they couldn’t decide was the dog’s size. Yuuri voted for a smaller while Viktor loved the bigger ones, and he hoped they can find a poodle waiting for its owner. In the end, they agreed that the breed doesn’t matter, they choose the dog that both of them like.
The shelter was on a suburban street where there were big gardens. Yuuri drove because Viktor’s driving style was a sentence of death even for Russian measures, and exceptionally Viktor didn’t take it as an offense.
They were still too young to have a child, and they are not in a hurry until Yuuri retires too and won’t be away every second week to the other half of the world. Until then, they can experience how their raising skills match on a dog.
Yuuri parked in front of a big house, and let Viktor go ahead because he knew this place. He was a volunteer here when he still had the time. Nowadays, he was collecting donations for this and other animal shelters in Saint Petersburg.
“It’s good to see you, Vitya!” said Anna, the old owner of the place. She was enthusiastic. “What brings you here? I thought you were training for the next season so I was really surprised when my grandson told me you’re coming.”
Viktor hugged her then he grabbed Yuuri’s hand so he couldn’t hide behind him. “He’s my husband, Yuuri.”
She grabbed his hand, squeezing it, “I’ve heard so much about you.”
Yuuri was a bit flustered as he let her shake his hand firmly and fervently.
“We haven’t made the official announcement yet, but… I’m retiring for good.”
“Well, somebody didn’t let you ruin yourself?” she winked at Yuuri.
“He didn’t have any other choice.”
“I’ve heard what happened to the good old Makkachin… I’m so sorry. But if I’m correct then…”
“Yes, we want to give a chance to another dog. Makkachin can’t be replaced but…”
There was a sudden crash. Anna startled then she ran out of the room. Viktor followed her quickly, giving Yuuri no other choice but to go after them. As they found out, they came right at feeding time, and a few dogs were in the kitchen where Anna made their lunch. A huge, tawny, poodle-looking dog was currently in a sack of dry food, and a brown-white corgi was helping her. However, when they saw their attendant, the bigger one tried to get out of the sack immediately, and it fell on the floor with a thump. Tiny pieces of food fell out of the bag, rolling around on the ground.
“I can’t believe it, it’s these two again!”
Viktor couldn’t really hear her grumbling because he was enchanted by the tawny, huge dog. She had massive limbs and big, brown eyes, and Viktor fell in love. Not paying attention to the others, he approached the dog, and after she sniffed his hand, he patted her neck. She had soft, slightly wavy fur, and Viktor laughed when she licked his hand.
She was perfect.
“Ah, she is Filya,” Anna introduced the dog. “She has been here for quite a long time, and since Bimka arrived, they are inseparable, and they always cause trouble… I don’t even know now where that little hellion went.”
“He is here,” Yuuri said, almost crying, “and he is an angel.”
Turning around, he saw Yuuri sitting on his heels on the tiles, and the corgi that helped Filya to get to the dry food tried to climb in his lap, tail wagging. His husband was stroking the dog with a happy face as he babbled him in Japanese. Viktor knew this face, and he also knew that they have a problem now.
“The others are outside with the volunteers, but these two sneaked in at the back door when I didn’t watch.” Anna pulled out a broom, and swiped up the dog food that rolled away.
Viktor turned back to Filya. “Do you want to come home with us?”
She barked.
“I think Bimka wants to come home with us,” Yuuri said innocently, having the dog already completely in his lap, and he putting his short limbs on Yuuri’s arm.
“I have to say beforehand that we don’t want to let them be adopted separately,” Anna said. “It would be painful for them.”
There was a silent communication between Viktor and Yuuri.
They’ll need a bigger apartment.
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