Chapter Text
“Yuuri, you should go to the festival with Vicchan today!”
Yuuri was sitting at the kotatsu for breakfast when his mom came up to him, placing a bowl of rice on the table and sliding it towards him. She smiled at him and glanced at the other man, Viktor, who was sitting on the opposite side of the table, quietly sipping on his miso soup. Yuuri huffed and shoveled a bit of rice into his mouth before replying.
“I can’t,” he said, slightly irritated with his mouth full. He swallowed and glanced at Viktor who was now staring at him. “I’m losing weight.”
“Ah, okay.” His mom seemed a little disappointed, and she looked at her son with a sad smile. She’d heard this excuse from Yuuri for the better part of the last five weeks, and Yuuri knew she was getting sick of it. Of course, she didn’t show that though—she’d always been the sweetest person he’d known.
“Well, maybe in the summer, yeah?” She grabbed his face gently as she would when he was a child, kissing his cheek with a loud smack. Yuuri could barely look Viktor in the eyes, but the other man was smiling as he watched. “I’m sure he’d love to spend the time with you,” she added quickly in Japanese.
“Mom, stop!” Yuuri practically yelled, pushing her away despite the small smile growing on his face. “He wouldn’t,” he mumbled under his breath, shaking his head as his mom laughed and left the room.
Across the table Viktor smiled brightly, one of those smiles —and Yuuri really couldn’t put his finger on it—that felt off. Forced. The man practically slammed his bowl back on the table and spoke in his cheerful “coach” voice. “Yup, we need to get you thin enough to start your short program, so no festival for you!” He opened his eyes and looked at Yuuri then and Yuuri flinched at how nonchalant yet utterly patronizing that sounded.
“You’re almost there, though,” he winked, a flirty smile on his lips. Yuuri could have sworn that the man’s blue eyes flicked down to Yuuri’s mouth. Did he have food on it?
He ran the back of his hand over it, feeling sick and increasingly irritated.
“You didn’t have to say it like that, I wasn’t going to go anyway.” Yuuri huffed, putting his chopsticks down. He wasn’t hungry anymore.
That seemed to shock Viktor out of whatever bubble he had been in, and his flirty smile shifted to an uneasy one, faltering. “Isn’t that just what you said though, that you aren’t going because you’re losing weight?” His usually intensely steady gaze shifted down to Makkachin who was now nuzzling her nose against him, whining. Yuuri didn’t really know why.
“I was just agreeing,” Viktor added, a little quieter. He smoothed his hands over Makka’s head.
Yuuri huffed, almost growling, “Yeah, but you said it like—.”
“Like what?” Viktor asked as his distant cheerfulness made a reappearance.
Yuuri frowned. “Like—“
Was Yuuri being an idiot? Didn’t the way Viktor just talked to him sound condescending, like he thinks Yuuri is some stupid child who has no self-control? Or was that just Yuuri’s own voice ringing in his head? He couldn’t tell because the two started to run together.
Well, all but one phrase in Viktor’s smooth voice which stood out like a sore thumb.
‘Little Piggy.’
Yuuri shook his head before he stood up, taking his bowl of food with him. “Whatever.”
Makka tried to follow him, but he gently patted her head and she sat, staying by Viktor’s side and watching as Yuuri left.
Was it…normal to be this bad at talking to someone?
I mean, Viktor never really had a problem like this before, or hasn’t at least not for a long time. Ever since he was little, Viktor had been so good at making people like him. Smile here, wave there, wink at just the right time, and say something cute or charming or sexy depending on the situation. Most people—interviewers, coaches, judges, and fellow skaters—were putty in his hands.
It was really just with the people close to him, the people he really wanted to like him, that he had this problem.
Viktor let his face fall into a frown as he watched Yuuri go through another rep of high knees at a spot near Hasetsu Castle, his unruly black hair bouncing, rather prettily, and his bangs falling in his face. Some of them stuck to his sweat-glistened forehead. His face was still a bit round and his baby cheeks were stubborn—much to Viktor’s delight— but Yuuri’s expression was mature, focused, and determined. His eyes were fixed on some spot in the distance.
Viktor has always been intimidated by just how focused Yuuri could get.
But over time as Yuuri continued with his exercise, his knees just weren’t getting high enough.
This would happen often with Yuuri. He’d start off strong usually, and when he got too quiet, or when Viktor and him had a disagreement earlier in the day, Yuuri would start to falter about halfway through. Viktor had first thought it was a lack of stamina, but that really wasn’t it, especially not since the first week. Yuuri could run for miles without so much as breaking a sweat. And where other skaters would double over in exhaustion, Yuuri was only out of breath. No, it wasn’t his lack of stamina, that much was evident. Yuuri, on a good day, had no problem with high knees.
But this wasn’t a good day if that morning was any indication, and Viktor didn’t know what was causing it or how to stop it, but he was pretty sure it had something to do with how anxious the other man could get. Viktor had picked up on it the day he arrived in Hasetsu when Yuuri had practically flown back multiple feet when Viktor only grazed his chin with his fingers. It was shocking, to say the least, a sharp contrast from the carefree Yuuri he’d danced with so many months ago. What’s more, he continued to notice it as a daily occurrence—blushing cheeks, jittery legs, lack of eye contact, bouts of irritation. And since it was such a daily thing, Viktor was starting to realize that the anxiety Yuuri had wasn’t like his own. It didn’t just go away after a task was completed or with a quick dip in the onsen—no it sort of grew. Snowballed even, until Yuuri could go hide in his room for hours and emerge somewhat calmer.
Viktor had no earthly idea how to help Yuuri when he started getting like this. No idea that didn’t include shutting Yuuri up in his room or derailing his entire workout.
Yuuri huffed and bit his lip, struggling a bit as his steady pace faltered.
How was Viktor supposed to know what to do?? Yuuri barely talked to him!
So…for better or for worse (it was for worse) Viktor just used what he knew.
“Get those knees higher!” Viktor ordered, summoning the best ‘Yakov’ voice he could, combining memories and memories of days spent in the ice rink to create something that would make Viktor seem like a coach—because he sure as hell didn’t feel like one.
Yuuri blew out air through pursed lips, his breath heavier now, and he started pulling his knees higher, but after a few seconds his knees started to fall again with each kick of his legs. Viktor clicked his tongue.
“Stop!” He yelled, clicking the button on his timer. Yuuri came to a steady stop and wiped the sweat off of his forehead before glaring at him. Viktor’s heart skipped a beat—there was something about Yuuri with no glasses that gave him butterflies— but he pushed that feeling waaaay down. Not now.
“What?” He practically hissed out, cheeks red and breath uneven.
‘What’ indeed. What should Viktor say next? He racked his brain for more Yakov catchphrases.
Maybe Yuuri needed more of an incentive?
“You’re not working hard enough,” he parroted, the words feeling heavy on his tongue and a lot harsher than he intended. Yuuri seemed to pale, but Viktor was already in too deep so he continued. “You’re not allowed to go to the rink until I get 3 more reps of flawless high knees.”
Viktor had given in practically a week after telling Yuuri he couldn’t get on the ice until he lost weight—the look on his face when Viktor would remind him of it was pure dejection. It mirrored how Yuuri looked in the kiss-and-cry after last year’s Grand Prix, and it was an established fact in Viktor’s mind that he absolutely despised that look on Yuuri’s pretty face.
So he would let him go at night, only baring the Japanese skater from practicing jumps, and Yuuri would skate for hours on end, especially on bad days.
Viktor thought for a moment that he could use it as an incentive to get Yuuri out of his head—
Oh, he was so wrong.
Yuuri looked at him first with panic, the telltale signs of his anxiety—furrowing his brow, biting the inside of his cheek, picking at his fingernails—making a slow but sure appearance. But then he started to grow angry, and he glared back at Viktor, indignant.
“Why do you treat me like a child?” He spat out, pushing past Viktor and grabbing his workout bag.
Viktor stumbled to the side as Yuuri shouldered him. “Wh—what do you mean?”
“You don’t have to threaten me to get me to do things.” Yuuri was fuming now, snatching his water bottle from the bench and starting to walk off as Viktor followed. “Sure maybe you needed that because you’re such a—such an airhead —“ Yuuri stopped in his tracks as soon as he said it. He peered over his shoulders but hid most of his face. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
Viktor’s uneasy smile fell as soon as he heard it.
‘Airhead’
“No, you’re right,” he replied almost immediately, feeling small but at least successfully maintaining some semblance of control in his voice. Barely.
Yuuri turned around then and stared at him—he looked regretful, and he opened his mouth several times as if to speak before sighing roughly and pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. Viktor watched, his face hopefully unreadable.
“Just—“ Yuuri finally continued. “Let’s just start again tomorrow. I’m going on a run.”
Viktor just stared, defeated, as Yuuri walked away. Even Makkachin followed him this time!
Shit.
The rest of the day was just…Viktor sitting, a bit anxiously, in his bed and waiting to hear the familiar click of Makka’s nails and the soft shuffle of Yuuri’s house slippers going down the hall. He tried to occupy himself with everything he could think of—he tried to finish that French book he’d been putting off, and when that didn’t work, he organized Yuuri’s documents again, searching his brain for anything he might be missing. He resisted calling Yakov for the 50th time in the last few weeks…and eventually, he just decided to lay in bed and watch whatever Youtube video he decided to play next. Sometime after some weird comedic commentary on the new The Bachelor episode he heard the thump of Mari’s bare feet and a quiet knock on the door followed by a—
“My mom wants you to eat something. Come to the kitchen.”
Viktor couldn’t refuse. Mama Katsuki, as he loved to refer to her in his head, was scary stubborn when it came to these things.
She must be where Yuuri got it from.
Dinner was equally as quiet and lonely save for the few times Mari would come into the family’s private room and pick up Viktor’s empty sake glass before pouring him a little more. Her eyes watched him, much like Viktor expected an older sister would. She seemed concerned.
Eventually, the third time she came in, Viktor spoke up.
“Where do you think Yuuri is?” He asked quietly. She looked at him with a glance that seemed to say ‘finally.’ Viktor traced the rim of his glass before continuing. “He said he was going on a run, but it’s been 5 hours.”
She bent down and grabbed Viktor’s now empty bowl before placing it on her tray with a small sigh. “He either ran off to Minako’s place or else down to Ice Castle,” she replied simply before huffing, much like Yuuri always did, and heading towards the door. “It’s what he does.”
Minako’s bar? That sounded a bit odd, especially since Viktor hadn’t seen Yuuri drink since the GPF banquet. In fact, Yuuri always ran away when alcohol was offered to him, but.. Viktor was desperate—he stood up, grabbed his jacket by the front door, and headed over there to check.
Exactly like he thought, Yuuri wasn’t at the bar.
“He’s not here,” Minako said after pouring Viktor yet another glass of sake. He could feel a tingling buzz in his skin, and it made it somehow easier to listen to her.
“When she said my place she meant my ballet studio.” Viktor perked up at the sound of that. In the last few weeks, Yuuri would run off to god knows where just as soon as they finished conditioning and Viktor would always check the rink, usually to no avail. How had he not known that Minako taught ballet?
He felt like a stranger and it made him feel even lonelier. He was only ever a stranger peering at Yuuri through a glass window or a computer screen—that’s at least how he felt.
Minako leaned back and crossed her arms before continuing. “You see, when Yuuri gets anxious, practicing chills him out. If Ice Castle is closed, he’ll run through some dance sequences with me at the studio. He started off as a ballet dancer, you know? I was the one who told him to try ice skating.”
Sure, Viktor should have guessed it. Most skaters took ballet to supplement their technique and training off the ice, but there was something beautiful about the thought that Yuuri had started as a dancer. It made Viktor smile. No wonder Yuuri skated with so much emotion
Viktor smirked while taking another sip of the cold drink.
And no wonder he won that dance competition.
“He’s always been an anxious guy,” Minako added finally after watching Viktor take another sip of his drink. “He came as far as he did because he had a safe place where he could practice on his own. He’s no genius, but he works hard. And he truly loves to skate,” her words were sincere, much like a mother’s are when they talk about their child. Slowly, Viktor was starting to put together some of the pieces of Yuuri that were hidden deep when Viktor had first met him.
And he kept learning more as he met Yuuko and Takeshi in the sound booth at Ice Castle. He had finally found Yuuri—he was skating in lazy figure eights, his face downcast and his gaze forlorn. He looked—scared. Viktor did his best to hide his own emotions, resting his finger on his chin as he learned to do for interviews— now it was just a habit.
Yuuko told him about Yuuri—his stubbornness, his shyness—but one thing stuck out to him the most.
“The thing you should know about Yuuri is he’s actually a pretty sore loser. I hope you can bring out a side of him that we’ve never seen before.”
Oh, there was a side of him they had never seen before—one where Yuuri was relaxed, where he was confident, where he danced and danced and was the most beautiful person in the room. They needed to see that Yuuri. The whole world needed to see that Yuuri.
Ideas started to form in Viktor’s head. He had some short programs that he had been planning for the upcoming season—a couple of songs that Viktor felt flirted with the concept of love.
Perhaps…
Perhaps Yuuri needed a challenge.
“I see,” Viktor stated, gaze steady. He continued to watch Yuuri’s dejected face. The man was still beautiful as he glided across the ice–ethereal, sweet, angelic, and soft—but there was more to him than that. “I just need to find a way to turn a little piggy into a prince.”
‘There’s just one thing’ Viktor thought as he left Ice Castle and was hit with the warm, salty sea air.
How on earth was he going to get Yuuri to do anything if he couldn’t even talk to the man?
The rest of the night Viktor found himself buried deep into the rabbit hole of planning Yuuri’s short program. The outlines and jump orders he had made before were completely discarded and replaced by anything that would draw out the Yuuri he had first met—sensual, sexy, and confident moves that would accentuate and mature his beauty in a way that still highlighted Yuuri’s softer features. Something challenging that would utilize Yuuri’s insanely refined spins and footwork. Something classy, but right on the edge of racy. Teasing. Flirtatious. That’s what Yuuri needed.
But even after video after video of references and hours of Viktor blocking out the step sequences right there in the middle of his room, Viktor still felt uneasy. He had a good idea of Yuuri’s short program now—but what he didn’t have a good idea about—
It was Yuuri.
Viktor collapsed on his bed with a dramatic sigh, jostling his skating notebooks and his computer. He pulled his earbuds from his ears roughly and the sultry guitar that had been playing non-stop for the past several hours was replaced by crisp silence. It was jarring.
It took a few minutes before Viktor lazily turned on his side and picked up his phone, and the bright screen illuminated his face in the dark room. The sun had set hours ago, but Viktor still hadn’t turned on a single light, distracted by the streams of ideas he just needed to get on paper.
He absentmindedly pulled up Instagram and scrolled aimlessly past pictures of sunsets, beloved pets, and romantic evenings, eventually stopping at one of Chris’s pictures and liking it on autopilot before scrolling some more—
but wait
He scrolled back up and really looked at the photo. It was a ‘throwback-Thursday’ post that featured him and two other skaters at last year’s Skate America. The caption was flirty…as usual.
‘Can’t wait to see these two handsome boys again 😘. You two better be training hard, or I’ll be disappointed 😉. #tbt #GPF
Much to Viktor’s surprise, the two other skaters were Yuuri, a sweet smile on his face, and another boy who was clinging to Yuuri’s shoulders.
Phichit? That was his name, right?
Viktor could have sworn Yuuri mentioned his name once or twice.
In the comments, it looked like Phichit had commented, so Viktor clicked on it.
‘You better believe Yuuri and I will be there! 😤⛸️❄️’
Damn right, Yuuri will be there. Viktor clicked on Phichit’s profile—it was public, and littered with hundreds of photos. Most of the more recent ones were of him and his other rinkmates, food, and the skating rink in what looked like Detroit. He saw Celestino a couple of times, mostly yelling in the background. After Viktor scrolled down far enough, he saw the recurrence of a very familiar face, and Viktor’s eyes lingered on one of Phichit crying and holding Yuuri who was awkwardly smiling with a suitcase handle in his hand and a face mask under his chin. This one was also captioned.
‘My heart is leaving Detroit! 🥺🥺🥺 ”
Viktor physically flinched, feeling a pang of jealousy and clicking off his phone before rolling back over onto his back. He stared at the ceiling.
…
But… maybe?
Viktor grabbed his phone again, quicker this time, pulled up his DM’s, typed in Phichit’s handle, and texted him in five seconds flat. It took no time at all for Phichit to respond.
Viktor was frazzled when his phone started ringing, wondering how on earth Yuuri of all people was friends with someone who really was ten times more energetic and eccentric than Viktor was. And Viktor was freaking eccentric.
“Viktor!” Phichit yelled into the phone over what sounded like chatter and ice skates scratching freshly leveled ice. “What’s up?”
“I–” He hesitated, wondering just how on earth he was going to put it. He had the feeling that one wrong move and Phichit might fly to Japan just to kill him. That really was an uneasy feeling.
“I just was wondering,” He started slowly. “if you might have any advice?”
“Advice?” Phichit paused as someone seemed to yell at him in the background. He ignored it. “Advice about Yuuri?”
“Yeah,” Viktor replied. He tried to combine the jumbled words in his head for a second before deciding to say, “I never seem to say the right thing when it comes to Yuuri.”
Viktor could hear Phichit laugh on the other side of the phone and the sound of a bag plopping down on the floor, or maybe the bleachers in the rink. “Here’s the thing you need to know when it comes to Yuuri: he’s a stubborn bitch.”
Viktor laughed at that, almost bitterly.
“And he doesn’t want to feel like a weakling.”
“I see,” Viktor said, nodding as if the man could see him. Phichit continued.
“So for Yuuri to see his, like, all-time favorite idol in his hometown after having probably the worst five months of his life was probably a low blow for him.”
Viktor hadn’t really let himself think about what Yuuri had gone through since the last Grand Prix. He’s seen the headlines, he’s heard the rumors…it was heartbreaking to think about. Viktor started to frown and pick at a loose threat in his gray workout t-shirt, but something else caught his attention.
Wait–
“His idol?” Viktor asked excitedly. He was Yuuri’s idol?
There was a brief moment of silence before Phichit responded. “Of course, you’ve seen the posters right?”
“What?”
“What?” Phichit immediately responded, but Viktor wasn’t going to let this go.
“He has posters?!” He practically screeched, falling back onto the bed and kicking his legs. That’s why he never let Viktor in his room! It wasn’t because he, like, thought Viktor was a closet pervert of something. Believe it or not, this was the best news Viktor had heard in weeks.
“No he doesn’t—“ Phichit tried to backtrack but Viktor was still in his head.
He said the next part more to himself than anything. It was almost a whisper. “He likes me?”
Phichit sighed—he must have heard him. “Oh God, you’re both ignorant.”
Viktor just sat in the bliss of knowing Yuuri didn’t hate him as Phichit continued. “Look, let’s say he has posters of you, and let’s say you’re his childhood… role model," his inflection on the last two words sounded suspicious, but Viktor let it be. "Imagine how he’d feel if he felt like he’d failed in front of you, and then 5 months later you come crashing into his childhood home when he’s not feeling very good about himself.”
Viktor had known all of that…theoretically. But there was something about hearing it out loud that made it… hurt more. The bliss from seconds ago started to dissipate and Viktor sat up, crossing his ankles and pulling his knees to his chest. Of course, coming here had been selfish—Viktor was always selfish. He should have thought about how it would affect Yuuri.
The last thing he wanted to do was make Yuuri feel bad about himself.
“Why are you telling me all of this?” He asked, his change in tone was striking even to him. Phichit took a little longer than expected to respond.
“Okay first,” He started, sighing again. “You gotta understand what Yuuri’s thinking. He’s very bad at showing it, so a lot of the time he just looks mad. But most of the time, he’s just… self-deprecating.” He paused, letting Viktor consider what he said before continuing. “And second, because I love him, and he deserves the world.”
He did deserve the world and so much more.
And what Phichit was saying made sense, it really did, but Viktor was still left with the exact same uncertainty that had plagued him the entire day. “I still don’t know what to do.”
“Let me ask you this,” Phichit started. Viktor could hear him unzipping his bag and pulling out his skates, placing them on what sounded like metal. “Do you not like that he’s gained some weight?”
It was an odd question—weren’t they talking about Yuuri’s skating? Why would it matter if he liked the way Yuuri looked…well he did like it, but that really wasn’t relevant.
“I don’t dislike it at all, I think he’s…” Viktor trailed off, the words evading him.
“A good person?” Phichit supplied, almost probing for a specific answer.
“Of course.”
“Has a lot of wasted potential?”
“Well, not wasted —“
“A great skater?”
Viktor was becoming increasingly certain about his answers. “One of the best—”
“Hot?”
Hell yeah! Viktor practically wanted to scream it, but something stopped him. Admitting that felt like a whole new level and this was the first time he had even spoken to Phichit.
“I–” He started quietly before whispering. “Yes.”
“I can’t hear yooouuuu!” Phichit teased, loud.
Fine.
“Yes!” Viktor yelled as he covered his face with his free hand. His cheeks were hot. “But…but I never can communicate that to him.” He added, exasperated.
“Which part?”
“All of it!” Viktor yelled again. He was feeling the frustration build. “I just…try to say what Yakov would say to me, you know? Sometimes, well most of the time, he had to just— be harsh —so that I would actually listen to him.”
“Ah, well Yuuri is already harsh with himself.”
Viktor shrunk in on himself and lowered his voice. “I know.”
There was zip in the speaker and Viktor could hear the heavy thud of skate guards on rubber floors.
“Maybe stop thinking about what Yakov would say and start thinking about what you would say.”
“Oh yeah, because that’s so easy,” Viktor huffed out bitterly.
Phichit just laughed half-heartedly. “Look, there’s a reason you’re there. There is something about him that keeps you there. Tell him honestly what you think.” The sound of skates hitting ice rang in the speaker and then he spoke again. “It won’t help Yuuri if you just boss him around like you think a coach should. At best he’ll think you’re messing with him, and at worst he’ll take it all to heart.”
That made sense, and it seemed easy. It was so straightforward: think and then say what you’re thinking.
But all words just flew out the window every time he saw Yuuri.
Before Viktor could respond, Phichit continued, the teasing tone back in his voice. “That goes for flirting too! Say what you truly mean, not what you think he wants to hear. Many a man and woman learned that the hard way when he was here in Detroit I assure you.”
“I’m not flirting with him,” Viktor pouted, trying to feel a little less exposed. His heart was still beating astronomically fast.
He could practically hear Phichit rolling his eyes by the way he replied.
“Sureee,” he drawled. “And I’m a hockey player.”
Yuuri let out a long, labored sigh as he settled into the hot water. His hair was already plastered to his forehead and the sides of his face from the steam, so he pushed some of it out of his eyes. It was a clear night, and Yuuri could finally feel some of the tension from the day slowly melt as he waded in the shallow pool. Well, most of it at least.
He still felt a pang of guilt every time he thought about Viktor and their conversation earlier in the day. He’d let his anxiety win again—what a big surprise— and he went and called his skating idol and living legend, Viktor Nikifororv, an airhead. If there was an award for being the world’s biggest idiot, Yuuri would win that in two seconds flat.
But the look on Viktor’s face after he had said it? No award in the world would make that worth it, truly.
Yuuri didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there, his head resting on a rock on the side of the onsen and his eyes closed, when he felt ripples of water against his skin. He opened his eyes, only to see said living legend looking at him and moving towards him in the water. Yuuri sat up quickly, fixing his bangs again, and looked away.
Viktor stopped moving, and Yuuri could see him also messing with his hair out of the corner of his eye. Yuuri turned his face to look at him straight on and felt his face heat up when he saw that Viktor was already looking at him.
“Hey,” the older skater said with a small wave of his hand, his smile tight.
Yuuri stared for a second before remembering that he had to reply.
“Hi.”
The two sat in silence for a while, nothing but the sound of trickling water and distant chatter from the bathroom inside the inn kept them company. Yuuri was just starting to get enough courage to stand up and make a quick exit—one where Viktor didn’t see his body for too long —when Viktor spoke up.
“When will you be ready for your short program, Yuuri?” Viktor’s face was unreadable, almost as if he was trying to make it so. He glanced at Yuuri through wet bangs before pushing them back out of his face a little awkwardly.
Yuuri felt suddenly ten times more aware of himself if that was even possible. He slid his hands up the sides of his arms so that they rested, crossed, across his chest and midsection. He looked away. “A week,” he said definitively. “Maybe a little more than that, but not much. I won’t be back to my weight before last year’s Grand Prix,” he looked back at Viktor hesitantly. Where he expected to see something like disappointment or anger, he saw that steady, unreadable expression. “But, I’ll be a little more than 10 pounds down from when you first got here.”
Viktor nodded and looked away to something in the distance. “That sounds good. You aren’t far from a healthy weight for skating, I think you should be good to go.” He looked back at Yuuri and smiled again, still strained, but a little warmer this time.“If it’s something you want, we’ll keep working on it. We have plenty of time.”
The air was hot, as it always was in the onsen, but Yuuri felt his face heat up impossibly more when he realized Viktor was still staring at him, watching.
“I’m pretty good at losing weight, you know,” he said with an awkward smile and breathy laugh as he folded in on himself slightly. “I’ve done it a lot.”
It was agonizing waiting for the other skater to reply.
“You don’t seem proud of that,” Viktor spoke carefully. Each word seemed hesitant.
Yuuri rolled his eyes as the irritation from earlier flooded back. “Would you be?”
Viktor’s face was still expressionless, but he kept messing with his bangs nervously. “I’d be proud of how resilient I was,” he eventually replied. “As you should be.”
Proud. What a joke.
“I don’t want to be proud of having to lose weight just to do what I love,” Yuuri replied, his voice a little harsh. He physically pulled back when he heard himself and watched Viktor’s face.
Viktor frowned then and he moved slightly closer to Yuuri before stopping himself. “I think that’s because,” he paused, looking down at the water and then back up to Yuuri’s eyes. “You see gaining weight as something shameful.”
“It is,” Yuuri stated without hesitating.
“It’s not,” Viktor met with just as much vigor. “But it’s just something that will affect your jumps and your knees. I just want you to have as few obstacles as possible and as little risk of injury as possible.”
It was irritating that Viktor was just stating exactly what Yuuri already knew. He knew his weight was a problem, he hated it. He hated it more than Viktor realized.
“Exactly,” he snapped. “That’s why it’s shameful.”
“No,” Viktor pushed back. “It’s not.”
Sighing, the older skater ran a wet hand across his face and looked at Yuuri, blue eyes more determined. “Like, take this for example,” he waited for Yuuri to look at him. “It's not bad to have my shoes untied. There’s no moral failure if my shoes are untied. In fact, it lets me take off my shoes so I can relax or go into the onsen,” Viktor moved closer again but stopped when Yuuri backed away. He swallowed before continuing. “But when I need to run, I need my shoes on, and my shoelaces have to be tied so that I can run my best. If they’re not, my shoes will make me stumble, or worse— I’ll trip and hurt myself.”
Yuuri stared at him for a moment as the words set in. They were making sense…they made a lot of sense in some weird Viktor way that always had to include some elaborate analogy. And he would have let the warm feeling of relief flood over him, but a part of him resisted.
“Does that make sense?” Viktor asked with a small, faltering smile.
Yuuri huffed and glared at him, trying to deny that yes, it did make sense, but he was too stubborn to admit it. “You’re comparing me to a shoe?”
“No.” Viktor practically growled out. He pushed his bangs out of his face again and left his hand resting on his head. It was…a very seductive pose, but the man seemed completely unaware of that. “о боже, sometimes I think you’re willfully misunderstanding me.”
Yuuri took that as a challenge and continued to willfully misunderstand him. “You seem to have no problem maintaining your weight,” he added bitterly, glancing at Viktor’s lean arms and back up to his chiseled face. “So I don’t think you understand.”
Viktor slammed his hand back into the water. “Yuuri, I have a hard time believing you understand. I haven’t met it directly, but after observing you for just over a month now I think it’s safe to say that the voice inside your head is the meanest person I’ve ever met.”
Hurt, Yuuri started to open his mouth to retaliate, but Viktor continued. His voice was softer now.
“I don’t want to keep saying stupid things that will feed it.”
His tone was genuine, open, and gentle. And Yuuri felt like an asshole for getting so upset. Why didn’t Viktor just yell at him dammit? Yuuri avoided making direct eye contact, embarrassed and confused.
“You know,” Viktor continued with a rueful smile. “I think I say stuff that Yakov used to say to me without questioning the validity of it.” He looked up at Yuuri and let out a breathy laugh.“I’m learning half of what he said was shit.”
It was odd, that moment where Viktor and Yuuri just sat there staring at one another. Viktor’s face was no longer unreadable—it was uncertain. It was such a foreign emotion on the man’s face that it made Yuuri uneasy.
Perhaps that’s because Yuuri hadn’t been paying attention.
“We can start training tomorrow at the rink instead, yeah?” Viktor said as he tilted his head playfully and let his smile grow to something brighter and more relaxed. “I think it’s past time to get you back out there. And I have some step sequences I want to test out on you.”
Yuuri still felt traces of resentment in him that just couldn't seem to leave him alone. He decided to throw another dart to see how Viktor would respond.
“But I’m not ‘thin enough’, コーチ,” he said mockingly.
Viktor just laughed again before looking at Yuuri with a guilty smile. “Again, Yuuri, if half of what Yakov said to me was shit,” he tilted his head to the other side to emphasize his point.“At least a good 60% of what I say is shit too.”
“80%” Yuuri replied deadpanned before letting a small smirk form on his lips.
Viktor chuckled brightly and it was one of the prettiest sounds Yuuri’s ever heard. “Fair enough.”
He was moving now, wading through the water slowly as he inched closer to Yuuri. Yuuri could see a faint blush behind speckled freckles—he hadn’t seen those before.
“You know, you look good like this,” Viktor said, quietly, before brushing his fingers through a few loose strands of Yuuri’s hair and pushing them back. Yuuri could feel the steam that rose from Viktor’s skin. “You should keep wearing your hair back like that while you skate, all the girls will swoon.” He cocked his head and smiled, laughing lightly. “And before you say anything, I know I’m right about this.”
Yuuri’s arms were still crossed across his chest, but as Viktor’s hand drifted down from Yuuri’s head, it gently caressed the side of Yuuri’s left arm until he got to his elbow. He pulled it towards him and continued to trace his fingers to Yuuri’s hand. He gently pulled Yuuri closer and ran his thumb over the back of Yuuri’s hand.
The Japanese skater could only stare and say the first thing that came into his mind. He had a habit of doing that around Viktor when the two were alone, and when the voices that jumbled around in Yuuri’s head finally calmed down.
“What if I don’t want them to,” he asked, eyes drifting down to Viktor’s lips and lingering there for a little too long. Viktor smiled, their faces hovering close together for a moment, before pulling away and wading towards the entrance of the onsen— Yuuri froze, totally not understanding what the hell just happened. He looked away when Viktor looked over his shoulder at him.
“Then wear it that way for yourself,” he lilted, the softer and more… intimate tone now replaced with a more familiar one. One Yuuri would listen to over and over again every time Viktor did another interview. “You’ll break hearts regardless.”
Yuuri watched as the man left and noted the almost uncertain look on his face as he wrapped his towel around his waist and glanced back at Yuuri.
“And Yuuri,” he added, slowly. Almost hesitating.
Yuuri blinked. “Yeah?”
Viktor’s smile was small and fragile like sakura petals. Yuuri was breathless.
“I’m glad I’m here. And I can’t wait to see what you do this season.”
As Viktor walked away, Yuuri, dazed, let himself fall back onto a rock, rest his head on it, and sigh with exhaustion. He couldn’t tell if the warm buzz under his skin was just from the hot water in the onsen or something else.
Yeah, probably just the onsen.
Before falling asleep that night, a small smile resting permanently on his lips, Yuuri noticed a notification from Phichit.
It made zero sense.
