He laid there, pressing his cheek against the white tiled floor of the hotel bathroom as the world continued to spin. Despite the cold chill coursing through his body due to the freezing bathroom, he was still burning, and the air around him was getting harder to breathe. His head pounded against the harsh light and he closed his eyes, letting out a rough cough, wincing as the cold air touched his raw throat. He groaned loudly as someone knocked on the door, and Viktor pushed himself off the floor, pressing his back against the tiled wall behind him.

His stomach lurched and Viktor swallowed, pressing his forehead against the toilet rim, knowing he had nothing left to bring up, silently hoping his stomach received the message. He hadn't eaten since yesterday morning, which in all honesty, was probably a stupid idea. And it hadn't helped that his competition was less than 2 hours ago, which meant his aching body was yearning for sustenance and sleep. His clenched his eyes tighter, hoping the floor would stop moving beneath his trembling form. Someone knocked again and Viktor bit back a cough, wrapping his arms around his stomach, hoping that whoever wanted in his bathroom would go away.

He hung his head over the ceramic basin, hoping that the saliva that filled his mouth wasn't leading to another round of puking. Considering he spent last night vomiting up anything that he'd eaten since they touched down in Berlin, and despite downing almost an entire bottle of flu medicine, he still felt as miserable now as he did last night. The teenager swallowed, resting his chin on the rim lightly. At least his skate was over, so now all he had to get through was a 2-hour interview, sign a few autographs, and then he could sleep… then he could have time to be sick. Viktor sighed loudly. His parents would be coming up any minute and he had to be ready; after all, according to them, if he couldn't get through a small interview with a stomachache and slight fever, then he shouldn't be a skater.

Viktor jumped as something cold touched his forehead and slammed into the wall behind him, prying his eyes open as his vision swam violently. He let out a whimper, blinking slowly until the fuzzy image of his boyfriend came into view. Henrik was kneeling next to him, his hand still raised slightly, a worried expression plastered to his face. Viktor gulped loudly, hoping to calm his breathing as Henrik reached forward again, pressing his hand to Viktor's forehead.

"You're burning up babe," Henrik said softly, moving his hand from Viktor's forehead to his cheeks, his blue eyes dancing over Viktor's pale features. Viktor felt tears swell in his eyes, resisting the urge to cry. He was 16, far too old to be found crying on the bathroom floor because he was sick. He cleared his throat, swatting Henrik's hand away, trying to push himself off the cold hard floor. The German pressed his hands against Viktor's shoulders firmly, "Nein, you're not going anywhere. Babe, you're sick. You're burning up, and I highly doubt you can stand properly-"

Viktor shook his hands off, "I'm fine Henrik. Stop worrying babe. Besides, if I don't make to the hotel lobby within the next hour, my dad will kill me." He groaned loudly as he pressed his hand against the wall, standing slowly before leaning against the hotel counter for support. He felt Henrik's arms wrap around his waist, holding him upright. Viktor breathed a sigh of relief at the comforting action, glancing up at the older boy, who stood several inch's taller.

"Vitya," Henrik sighed, pressing his forehead against Viktor's, his blonde hair momentarily shielding his eyes. He bit his bottom lip and shuddered as the heat seeping off Viktor melted into his own clothes. Henrik sighed again as Viktor wrapped his arms around his neck, pressing his shivering form weakly against his. The 17-year-old inhaled, pressing his lips against Viktor's forehead, running his fingers through the younger's silver hair. "I feel like shit," Viktor whispered, grasping Henrik's shirt lightly, running the soft fabric through his shaky fingers.

Henrik nodded softly, "I know love. I know. I can't believe you skated with how hot you are." He ran his hand once more through Viktor's hair, letting it slip through his fingers loosely. A small smile toyed with his lips as Viktor laughed softly, tightening his grip, and Henrik pressed his lips once more against the Russian's fevered forehead.

"What the hell!" Someone yelled loudly, causing Viktor to push himself away from Henrik harshly. His body slammed against the edge of the counter painfully and Viktor let out a soft yelp as his hip made contact against the pointed surface. The bathroom spun in a multitude of colors, and Viktor felt his knees give out beneath him as his stomach twisted. He felt someone grip his shoulder's tightly, and Viktor blinked slowly, realizing Henrik was the one holding him steady. He pressed his head against his boyfriend's chest, resisting the urge to bury his head against his neck, and let out a loud sigh as his vision cleared. He could hear the nervous beating of Henrik's heartbeat and Viktor felt his own speed up.

He pushed himself away from Henrik gently, pressing his hand firmly against the counter, and looked up to see his parent's standing in the bathroom doorway. He felt nauseating fear course through his body and bit his bottom lip, taking a deep breath. "Viktor! What the fuck is going on!" His mother yelled. Viktor ran a shaky hand through his hair. This was bad. This was really bad. They hadn't known, and this was not how he had planned on telling them. Viktor took a step back, feeling Henrik's arm around his waist as if it were the only weight holding him down, and Viktor swallowed loudly. "I-I can explain, I-," he started, breaking off into a coughing fit, doubling over as the harsh hacking scraped against his already painfully raw throat. His chest burned violently and Viktor winced with every breathe that he managed to push through to his aching lungs.

He felt Henrik's arm resting on his back and torso, gripping him tightly, and Viktor found his fingers intertwined with the bottom of Henrik's green shirt, willing the fabric to keep him from passing out. He gripped the counter strongly, straightening his posture, his arms shaking as he forced his lanky body to stand. He took a steady breath; his head swimming as cold sweat broke out over his already pale skin.

He groaned loudly as his father stepped forward, concern and anger masking his rough features. "Get away from my son," his father growled, pushing the German away roughly, grabbing Viktor's arm, forcing the younger Russian's vision to waver at the sudden movement. Viktor closed his eyes, feeling Henrik's grasp loosen around his torso, causing him to grip the counter tighter, his mind still concentrating on his father's hand wrapped around his arm. Maybe it was time they knew. He kept it to himself for so long…

Viktor sighed loudly, running a hot hand over his sweaty face, opening his eyes to the harsh bathroom. He groaned loudly as his mother's face came into view. He felt something cold touch his forehead, biting back a relieved sigh as his mother's hand pressed against his cheeks, forehead and neck. "Vitya," his mother whispered sternly, biting her bottom lip as her green eyes searched her son's face, "I- I don't know what's going on here. And I don't know why you're doing this to me, why you would do this to our family…but right now, right now, you need to go downstairs and smile for the camera. You need to be there for the interview, and then we can discuss this whole misunderstanding afterwards."

….

Viktor jolted awake, coughing harshly as hot air forced its way into his lungs. He sucked in a ragged breath as cold air swept over his shivering body, plastering the cold sweat that soaked through his shirt against his overheated skin in icy pools. He pushed himself into a semi-sitting position, coughing roughly, feeling his stomach churning violently as he glanced around the tiny room. He squinted through the darkness, trying to make out a familiar shape, trying to slow his breathing by focusing on something familiar.

It took him several long seconds before he realized he was in Yuuri's old room back in Hasetsu, alone. He swallowed weakly, tightening his grip around his aching stomach as the feeling of vulnerability and loneliness washed over him. He glanced across the room, smiling slightly as his eyes connected with a poster of himself taped haphazardly to the wall above the desk. In the picture, he was standing outside the ice rink, holding a bunch of flowers, the gold medal visible against his pale chest. He had been about 18 when he'd poised for that picture, shortly after his win in Tokyo.

Viktor's stomach groaned loudly, and he doubled over as nausea coursed through his body, his mouth filling with watery saliva. He sucked in a shaky breath, pressing his head against his knees, hoping the nausea would subside on its own. He wished Makkachin was here; at least she would help take his mind off how crappy he was feeling.

He felt tears well in his eyes at the thought of losing her. Over the past few days, this thought suddenly seemed so real, and Viktor wasn't sure what he would do if she died. He had found her when she was just a puppy, wandering the snowy streets late one night. She was so tiny then, cautious and shy- and it had taken Viktor a few hours of sitting in the cold snow before she finally wandered over to him, accepting the pirozhki from his hand. At the time, it seemed like both of them needed a companion… and now, despite leaving Moscow and catching the first flight back to Japan, there wasn't anything Viktor could do for her. He couldn't be there for her. He wasn't there for her.

He bit his lip as the thought of being alone again crossed his mind. He had just turned 17 when he found her, and even though she was now pushing 11, the thought of her dying had never really crossed his mind. He smirked slightly as Yakov's face flashed across his mind. Yakov had refused to let Makkachin stay more than 1 week with them but by the end of the week, told Viktor that if he was willing to be responsible for her, then he could keep her. Viktor had never been responsible for anything up until that point; and even now, if she died, well then- Viktor would be responsible for that. He wasn't sure if he could handle that.

Viktor coughed again, pressing his hands gently against his stomach as an uncomfortable warmth washed over him. He shivered harshly, his shirt sticking to his tired overheated body, and he groaned loudly, dreading the idea of moving. He felt a soft hand touch his back and he flinched, his muscles tensing as he realized he wasn't the only in the room now. His stomach groaned in protest as hot stomach acid climbed his throat, and Viktor swallowed harshly, realizing he was fighting an already lost battle.

"Easy Vicchan, easy sweetie," Someone said softly, and Viktor shook his head, his stomach lurching violently. He swallowed loudly, trying to keep whatever he had eaten down, as his body pitched forward again, loud retching escaping his mouth as watery bile spewed past his dried lips. He heard his companion gasp softly as Viktor's body lurched once more, and he pressed his lips firmly together, squeezing his eyes shut. He felt a hand press against his forehead as his stomach heaved again, bringing up another wave of predigest food and foul stomach acid. His skin felt hot and clammy, and he could feel sweat dripping down his face as he sucked in a harsh breath, trying to calm his aching stomach. He retched once more, only bring up bitter saliva, and air.

He shuddered, feeling saliva dripping down his chin, painfully aware of the damp clothes sticking to his shaking torso, and the hand still resting on his shoulder. He coughed loudly, feeling tears stinging his eyes as he peered at the person sitting next to him. He bit his lip as his eyes met Hiroko, and he sucked in a small breath as tears fell from his eyes softly, "I-I'm sorry."

Hiroko looked surprised for a second, confusion etching across her face as Viktor looked down at the vomit splattered across the blue comforter. She shook her head gently, tucking a loose strand of sweaty hair behind Viktor's ear. The Russian was shaking, hunched over the blankets, sweat plastering his silver hair to his forehead. She sighed quietly, reaching her hand up to wipe away some of the tears falling down Viktor's face, stopping when he flinched slightly. "Oh honey," she said softly, "it's okay. Nothing to be sorry about. I've raised two kids Vicchan, I've seen it all. Do you feel better?"

Viktor shrugged, realizing his arms were still hugging his midsection tightly. He swallowed, feeling his stomach turn again. Honestly, he didn't feel better, He felt worse. His head was spinning and his stomach burned as nauseating acid wavered in his raw throat. His body was shaky and hot; his sinuses felt stuffy, and despite taking allergy meds earlier, his headache was still there. Viktor groaned loudly as Hiroko pressed a gentle hand to his forehead. Her hand felt nice against his burning skin, and he resisted the urge to lean into her touch. He swallowed again, "It's- it's fine, I'm fine. Just an upset stomach."

Hiroko let out a soft laugh, "An upset stomach doesn't lead to fevers, honey."

Viktor nodded, not really comprehending what she was saying but not wanting to be rude. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, loosening his grip around his stomach, and pulling the sheets back slowly. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, shivering as his bare feet touched the cold wood beneath him. He tugged his shirt off gingerly, careful not to move too fast, and reached for the soiled blanket, biting his lip as his head throbbed against every movement. He looked up, feeling Hiroko's hand grasp his shaking fingers, "Vicchan, let me do that. Why don't you go get cleaned up? I'll make you a nice cup of tea while you're showering."

Viktor stared at her for a second, confusion etching across his face. "I can, you don't have to. I-" He started, reaching for the sheets once more.

"It's no trouble," Hiroko whispered softly, her hand once more grasping Viktor's, "besides honey, it's what mothers do."

Hiroko stood gently, grabbing Viktor's hand once more, motioning for him to stand. Viktor stood slowly, his eyes fixated on her small form, questions racing through his tired mind. Was this what moms did? His mother never did this. Then again…

Viktor's vision wavered for a second as he stepped forward, bumping against the nightstand, knocking over the small blue lamp, sending it crashing to the ground as his shoulder slammed against the cold wall. Ringing echoed in his ears for a second as black dots danced wildly in front of him and Viktor swallowed loudly, clenching his eyes shut. He leaned his head against the wall, breathing steadily until the dizziness subsided. He opened his eyes slowly, suddenly aware of Hiroko's hand pressed firmly against his chest while the other gripped his arm, her worried eyes staring up at him as he towered over her. He forced a smile, standing up straighter, letting out a soft sigh, "I'm okay now. Just got a little dizzy. I'm okay."

She eyed him for a few moments before releasing her grasp around his arm, adjusting her glasses. Viktor nodded softly, pushing himself away from the poster covered wall, wrapping his arms once more over his stomach protectively, walking towards the bathroom. He paused briefly, turning in the doorway, watching Mrs. Katsuki strip the bed gently, humming softly as she picked up his shirt, and set the lamp back on the table. He turned back towards the hall, squinting against the harsh hallway light that stabbed at his eyes. Was this what mothers did?

…

Viktor leaned his pounding head against the cool metal of the elevator, watching his little sister drive one of his old toy cars up the wall. He smirked slightly as she paused over the elevator buttons, jumping the car from one side to the other, mocking driving sounds as the car sped up. He groaned and pressed his forehead harder against the wall, his mother's stern voice coming back into focus. He felt like shit; and despite having walked in on him and his current boyfriend, his mother was doing what she did best, ignoring the situation.

The teenager coughed roughly, putting his hand to his mouth, hoping to stifle the rough noise. He turned around to look at his mother, standing in the opposite corner of the elevator. She was leaning against the wall, her arms crossed over her slender frame, her voice light and friendly while her green eyes conveyed frustrated disappointment. She tucked some of her silver hair behind her ear gently, "Did you hear me Vitya?"

Viktor shook his head softly, pulling his shoulder length hair into a tight bun with his hand before letting it fall loosely through his fingers. He glanced down, feeling someone tugging on his sweater, and smiled at his sister as she handed him one of her cars. His mother sighed loudly, "I said despite the incident, we can get through this interview. We'll sort you later. After we get home. Maybe taking a break from skating will be good for you. I think Yakov would be willing to pull you from next year's program in order for you to clear your head."

Confusion etched across Viktor's face as he looked up, pocketing the car in his blue hoodie. Why would he need to clear his head? He felt crappy and he wanted some rest, but he didn't want to quit. He wasn't done with skating yet. He rolled his sleeves up gently as his breathing hitched, fire burning against his skin. He reached a shaky finger towards the elevator, pressing the emergency stop, emitting a small cry from his sister. She jumped slightly, grasping at Viktor's shirt, hiding behind his weak form as their mother pushed herself away from the wall.

"Viktor, what the hell are you doing! Your father is expecting us downstairs and-," She started, stepping forward, reaching for the blinking red button. "I don't need a break," Viktor said. He winced as the words left his mouth, realizing talking hurt. Moving his jaw to form words felt like a big enough task, and having to start a conversation with his mother when she'd already made up her mind, seemed like utter agony.

A nervous smile formed on his mother's face, and Viktor swallowed, placing his hand on his sister's back as she cowered behind him, her toy cars strung across the ugly floor. "Honey, I think you do. You're ill. That- that boy- you won't get anywhere as a figure skater if you don't change! You don't love him, you just need some rest. Trust me, you don't want people to view you like that," she put a hand on Viktor's cheek before running a hand through his damp hair.

Viktor stepped back, pressing his sweaty back against the cold metal, hugging his sister to his side as she called his name. It was getting harder to see straight, and the air that pushed past his lips, felt hot and heavy, hard to breathe. His stomach clenched again, and Viktor swallowed thickly. He felt tears welling in his eyes as he realized he what was happening; as he realized what she meant.

"I-I do, I-" He whispered softly, his body shaking as tears fell down his face. He sucked in an airless breath as his sister pulled at his hoodie once more. He felt dizzy and lightheaded. The heat was unbearable now and he couldn't keep his heartbeat steady. His mother pressed the emergency button and sighed as the elevator began to move towards the lobby. She motioned for her daughter to pick up her cars, and straightened her dress before glancing back up at her son. Viktor was leaning against the wall, his eyes closed as sweat glistened against his pale skin. She bit her lip and stepped forward, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. "No honey," she whispered, wiping some of the sweat and tears that fell from his face, "you only think you do. Trust me, I know you. And this isn't you. We don't need this type of embarrassment on our hands. Beside we have a few lovely girls in our neighborhood who are perfect matches for you. You'll find a nice girl and marry her, just like your father. You'll see honey. Once you take a break and clear your head, then we can put this whole misunderstanding behind us. So, for now, force a smile and cheer up."

Viktor opened his eyes slowly, the image of his mother doubling, causing him to blink a few times. He pressed his lips firmly together, wiping roughly at the remaining tears with his sleeve and forcing a crooked smile. He felt too sick to deal with this right now. His body was on fire, and air was getting harder to choke down his raw throat.

He pushed himself away from the wall, pressing his hands firmly on his sister's shoulders as the elevator doors opened, revealing the horde of reporters and paparazzi crammed into the tiny hotel lobby. He felt his mother's hand on his shoulder again, and chills run down his spine as she pressed a kiss firmly on his temple. She squeezed his shoulder lightly, posing for the cameras that flashed in front of her, and waving towards her husband across the lobby. "Don't embarrass us Viktor," she whispered softly, squeezing her son's shoulder once more as they walked towards the interviewer.

…..

Viktor felt tears pricking his eyes, and wiped at them harshly as memories flooded back to him in waves. He coughed as his fingers began to shake, feeling his heart beat faster, and he sucked in a sharp breath. Despite having been on his own for several years, the memories were still painful, even more so when he was sick. He coughed again, trying to force oxygen in is aching lungs as tears flooded down his face, and Viktor buried his head in his hands.

Even with the hot water that washed over his body, he felt cold, he felt numb. His head spun for a second and Viktor leaned against the tiled wall of the shower. He coughed loudly, feeling the steam starting to clear his sinuses and ran a hand through his hair roughly. He hadn't meant to cause Hiroko so much trouble. He hadn't meant to leave Yuuri alone in Moscow. And he hadn't meant for Makkachin to be so alone, so abandoned. He hadn't meant to be a burden.

Viktor cleared his throat as someone knocked on the door lightly. He turned the shower off, and let the water drip from his body, soaking in as much warmth as he could get. "Vicchan, sweetie? Are you okay?" Hiroko asked, her voice echoing through the door softly. Viktor nodded, grabbing the towel she had left for him, before realizing she couldn't see him. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you. I'll be out in a second."

Despite feeling a little better, his voice was still hoarse and it made him feel small. He cleared his throat loudly, spitting some of the gunk that had occupied his nasal passages a moment ago, in the sink, washing it down with cold water and a shaky hand. He turned the faucet off and glanced at his reflection in the mirror, watching the water drip from his silver hair and run down his pale face. He wiped roughly at what he assumed was remaining tears and pulled his hair away from his face, taking a deep breath. He was almost 28, and despite having come to terms with everything a long time ago, he still felt like everything had happened yesterday.

He sighed loudly, pulling one of Yuuri's old shirt's over his head, taking in the familiar scent of his Pork Cutlet bowl. A smile broke out across his face as Yuuri flashed across his mind. Viktor had seen his performance last night on one of the televisions sitting in the Katsuki living room and despite being slightly sloppy, Yuuri's performance had taken his breath away… like the first time Viktor saw Yuuri skate to one of his old routines. There was something about Yuuri that Viktor had found so breathtaking in that moment, and it made Viktor feel proud. It made him feel loved.

…

Viktor was sitting on the bed, wrapped in two blankets, clutching a small cup of tea in his hands, watching Hiroko put a new pillowcase on one of the pillows. He sighed, looking down at the green liquid occupying the old wooden cup. Hiroko set the pillow gently on the bed before pulling up a chair, and grabbing her own cup of tea perched on the nightstand. "I'm really sorry," Viktor said softly, grasping the cup tighter in his hands. The warmth felt good against his cold fingers, but despite this, the idea of trying to force down a foreign liquid made Viktor's stomach churn violently.

"Vicchan, honey, listen to me. I raised two kids. I promise you, you have nothing to be sorry for. The most important thing to me right now, is making sure you feel better," Hiroko said softly, placing her hand on Viktor's forehead. She sighed as her fingers connected with his skin, an uncomfortable warmth present beneath his silver locks. She felt an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach like she did with her kid's when they were sick, and took a slow sip of her tea, her eyes studying Viktor's features. She had never seen him so sad, so vulnerable. Every time Yuuri showed her a picture, or even when Viktor had come to stay with them to train her son, he seemed so calm, happy, and full of life. Even when they picked him up from the airport yesterday morning, and rushed him to the vet to see his dog, Viktor seemed bubbly. Hiroko cleared her throat, pulling her blue hanten closer to her, and glanced down at the full cup in Viktor's hands.

The Russian looked up, a sad smile plastered to his face. "You're nothing like my mother," Viktor whispered softly, running his fingers over the rim of the cup. Mrs. Katsuki looked up, surprise masking her tired features, taking another sip of her tea as she mulled over what Viktor had said. She set her cup down gently, wrapping the blanket tighter around Viktor's lean frame as he shivered slightly. She ran a hand through his hair lightly and reached for the wet cloth on the side of the bedside table, folding it carefully, before pressing it against the Russian's skin.

Viktor sighed, closing his eyes as a wave of dizziness washed over him. He wanted nothing more than to lay down, but Mrs. Katsuki made it very clear that he wasn't allowed to sleep until he drank something. He opened his eyes slowly as Hiroko tapped the small cup in Viktor's hands. "Drink something Vicchan, it'll help settle your stomach and help you sleep," she said slowly, peering up at the young man, fixing her glasses as they slid down the bridge of her nose.

Viktor glanced down at the pale liquid as nauseating disgust painted his pale features. Hiroko laughed softly, "I know that look. I promise Viktor, it will help."

Viktor held the small cup in his hands, raising it slowly to his mouth with trembling fingers. He held the cup to his mouth, feeling the steam warm his cheeks, and felt a small smile toy with his lips as the liquid touched his tongue, flooding his taste buds. He glanced once more at the liquid in the small cup. He didn't normally like tea, but this was good. It was light, and tasted earthy but sweet. It tasted good, and it felt comforting.

Hiroko laughed again, taking the cup from the younger man's hands gently, "It's green tea with a little bit of milk and honey. It was Yuuri's favorite when he was sick as a kid. You can lay down now sweetie."

Viktor pressed his back against the mattress, letting his feet hang off the end of the bed, and ran a hand through his hair as another smile crossed his face at the mention of Yuuri's name. Despite the two blankets huddled against his body, he still felt cold. He felt warmth in the pit of his stomach from the tea, and crossed his arms over his midsection gently, wondering if what Hiroko has said was true, or if he would see the green liquid's reappearance. He sneezed softly as Hiroko ran her fingers through his hand once more. "Can I ask you a question?" He asked cautiously, squinting at the ceiling, trying to make out the greenish blobs above him.

"You can ask me anything, honey." Hiroko said, pulling the chair closer to the bed, and scooting the trashcan closer just in case. Yuuri had never had a problem with green tea, but Mari however, was a completely different story.

"If- if you could change something- anything about him, would you?" Viktor winced as the question left his mouth. He wasn't entirely sure why he'd asked it but he chalked it up to the fever coursing through his body. His whole head felt fuzzy and muddled, and images of his mother kept flashing through his mind. She was leaning against the wall, her arms crossed over her slender frame, her voice light and friendly while her green eyes conveyed frustrated disappointment.

"Yuuri?"

Viktor nodded, feeling tears well in his eyes. His mother's voice echoed loudly in his head. That- that boy- you won't get anywhere as a figure skater if you don't change!

Hiroko sat quietly for a few seconds, watching the expression on Viktor's face change. Her face was clouded with worry and concern; questions whirled through her mind as she tried to figure out why Viktor would ask her something like that. Then it clicked. Viktor never brought up his past for a reason, and he shied away from questions revolving around his parents, revolving around his family… Hiroko swallowed thickly, feeling tears well in her eyes as she wondered what the Nikiforov's could have done to bring so much pain to such a sweet soul.

"No. I wouldn't change a single thing about my Yuuri." She whispered, wiping some of the tears that formed in her eyes with the bottom of her shirt. Viktor smiled softly, wiping away some of the tears that quietly slid down his face. Besides honey, it's what mothers do. Hiroko pushed some of Viktor's hair away from his face with trembling fingers, "Would you?"

Viktor shot up quickly, retching as the tiny room swirled violently. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hiroko hold the trashcan up slightly, and Viktor shook his head, sucking in a shallow breath. He sat there, hunched over the purple blankets, concentrating on his breathing as his stomach slowly caught up with the sudden movement. He eased his body back against the mattress, pressing his cheek against the cool sheets, deciding it was best to use words versus actions. He glanced up a Hiroko, wincing as the table light stung his eyes, "No, not in a million years. Your son is perfect just the way he is."

A soft smile toyed with Hikoro's lips as she cupped Viktor's cheek in her hand gently, "He really loves you Viktor… he has since he was 11," She pressed the damp cloth once more to the Russian's forehead, "He was such a shy boy, Vicchan. He still is… Yuuri was always my little helper. He's such a sweet boy. He used to say he was going to be better than the great Viktor Nikiforov one day."

Viktor laughed softly. To be honest, having Yuuri surpass him hadn't really occurred to him, but something about the idea made Viktor feel warm and proud. Despite everything, Yuuri definitely had the determination, and with Viktor as his coach, there wasn't any reason why he wouldn't one day be better than him. In fact, Viktor couldn't really think of anything else that would make him happier. He felt a chill run down his spine, and clutched the blankets tighter around his shoulders as exhaustion washed over him. The green tea that had once felt heavy and nauseating in his stomach, now made him feel drowsy and warm.

The room was quiet for a few minutes and Viktor turned to face the ceiling once more, squinting again, trying to get his vision to readjust on the greenish blobs above him. Hiroko shifted slightly in her chair, "Vicchan, sweetie, what did you mean when you said I wasn't anything like your mother?"

Viktor was quiet for a long time before he yawned softly, "not many people know this but… I used to get anxiety attacks," He paused for a second, pulling the blanket further up his body. He stared at the ceiling above him, smirking as his eyes finally adjusted on what he originally thought were shapeless green masses hanging above the small bed. He coughed quietly as his eyes met the five glow-in-the-dark stars that were still glued to the ceiling. He smiled, imagining Yuuri growing up in this room, begging Hiroko and Mari to help him glue stars to his ceiling. Viktor cleared his throat, "I used to get anxiety and panic attacks all the time. Just like Yuuri… after my parents… I remember one night, I couldn't sleep so I just laid there, staring at the ceiling and trying to steady my breathing, trying to keep quiet so Yakov wouldn't hear. Lilia, Yakov's wife, came into my room and sat with me the whole night. I remember listening to her sing, thinking about how if she had been my mother, she would have told me to stop being so childish. She wouldn't have come in there to calm me down…"

Viktor sneezed, covering his nose with the crook of his arm. He rested his arm against his forehead, blinking slowly as the stars became unfocused greenish blobs once more. He peered over at Mrs. Katsuki, studying the soft features etched across her face. Despite only knowing her for a few months, she seemed kind and sweet- she seemed like the definition of motherly. Yuuri was lucky. Lucky to have someone like her in his life, to have a family that cared so much for him. The closest thing Viktor had had after his own family was Yakov, Lilia, and Nikolai. Viktor let out another yawn, "Yuuri is lucky to have you. He's lucky to have a whole family that cares so much for him."

Viktor laid there in silence for a while with his eyes closed, focusing on his breathing and the heavy feeling coursing through his tired body. "The worst part wasn't the looks," He laughed lightly while running a hand through his hair, opening his eyes slowly and glancing back towards the ceiling, "The worst part was when I went home. After the hospital. They had moved… I remember standing in this big house. Standing in the hallway, running my hands over the cracked walls, tracing the memories that were etched into the faded paint, and wondering how they were willing to leave behind all this... My father grew up in that house; my sister and I grew up in that house, and- my mother- my mother, forced them to move because I had embarrassed them on television. Because it was worse to have a son who was gay, than it was to leave him behind without an explanation, without a phone call…"

Hiroko wiped at the tears that fell down her cheeks. There was pain etched across Viktor's face and Hiroko felt her heart break at the sight of the young man. She could never imagine leaving behind one of her kids. It was emotional enough when Yuuri had left for Detroit to train under Celestino; and Hiroko would have followed him if Toshiya hadn't convinced her to let the boy branch out on his own. She pressed her hand against Viktor's warm cheek softly as the Russian closed his eyes. "It's okay," He said quietly, "I don't talk about it because it's painful sometimes, but I forgave them a long time ago."

Viktor cleared his throat, turning on his stomach, hugging the pillow to his chest. He closed his eyes slowly, hearing Hiroko's chair scrape heavily against the wooden floor. He bit back a groan as cold fingers ran through his hair once more, pausing lightly to feel his forehead. It was a comforting gesture, something Viktor had missed. He heard Hiroko let out a soft sigh, and the gentle creaking as heavy feet met the old wooden floor. Part of him yearned for Mrs. Katsuki to stay just a little longer, while the other part felt relieved that she was finally getting some sleep.

"Vicchan? Sweetie…"

Viktor pried his eyes open harshly, seeing Hiroko standing the doorway, her hand resting lightly on the knob. Hiroko shifted against the doorframe, stifling a soft yawn behind her hand.

"…I didn't know your mother, but from what I can tell of you, it was her loss in losing such an extraordinary son. She was wrong, honey. Not you. Don't forget that… and I want you to know that you always have a family here, no matter what."

Viktor stiffed as tears swelled in his eyes again, and burning against his cheeks as Hiroko closed the door behind her. His breathe caught in his throat and he felt his tired body trembling despite the warmth that surrounded him. He let out a half-choked sob as he ran a shaky hand through his hair. She was in the wrong honey… her loss in losing such an extraordinary son… Viktor sobbed softly, biting back the cough buried in his chest, biting his lip as another cry threatened to escape his raw throat. Was he an extraordinary son? He had never been called that.

Viktor grasped tightly at the pillow clutched to his chest. He had never met a family as extraordinarily wonderful as the Katsukis. Just as he had never met someone who captured his attention quite like Yuuri did. Viktor coughed harshly as tears glistened against his cheeks. He glanced up at the five stars on the ceiling. So many memories they had seen; plastered to the ceiling, watching over Yuuri as he slept through all the nightmares, all the fevered dreams, all the sleepless nights and all the broken hearts. Maybe one-day Viktor would be able to be one who replaced those childish stars.

…..

Viktor shivered as the heat that was radiating through his body was replaced with cold. He gulped loudly as his vision swirled, blending the sea of faces and horde of cameras together into a mass of dull colors. He couldn't think straight. His head was spinning, and despite having shed his hoodie before the interview started, he was suffocating. His mind was trying to rake through the muddle mess that was his brain, looking at words that his lips could form.

He felt something touch his hand and tried shaking his head to clear his vision, his mind, to clear something, anything. He blinked slowly as the hotel lobby became a distorted image of shapes and sounds. He closed his eyes, feeling his heart beating wildly, trying to force air, any air into his lungs, as fire swallowed his veins.

"Viktor? I asked if there were any special ladies in your life." Someone said softy. Viktor turned his head towards the noise slowly, his whole body feeling sluggish and wrong. He opened his eyes and shook his head, not really understanding the question. Not really understanding where he was, or why he was here. He'd been skating earlier, right? Yeah. Then how did he get here.

"No ladies then," the person interviewing laughed softly, "how do you expect to meet any pretty girls with such a busy schedule?"

Viktor wheezed softly, feeling his chest tighten as chills racked his body. He coughed harshly, bringing his elbow to his mouth, pausing briefly as his stomach lurched. I don't feel well, he thought. "I-I don't-" he whispered, his gaze meeting his father's, who stood a few feet away. Disappointment and anger were masked on his features, and Viktor felt like his heart was being torn from his chest, the oxygen squeezed from his lungs. His body felt hot, sticky and slow, and black dots danced in his vision. His body was shaking now, visibly shaking and Viktor wondered why Yakov wasn't here; wondered where he was. He felt another hand grip his arm softly, "What do you mean you don't? You don't plan on marrying one of the adoring ladies after your heart?"

Viktor ran a hand through his hair, his father's face doubling. He felt disoriented, dizzy and sick. Tears welling in his eyes as he silently yearned for a dark room with a soft bed; somewhere he could sleep, somewhere he could be alone until he sorted out what was going on, until he could sort out what was wrong with him. He groaned loudly, closing his eyes as his mind tried to piece together what was happening. He'd been skating. In Russia. No- Berlin. Someone was mad. Ana? No, that wasn't right. Henrik? "My boyfriend- I have a boyfriend," He mumbled softly.

He forced his eyes open slowly, squinting against the harsh lights, as his eyes scanned the blurred faces, looking for a familiar one- looking for Henrik's. If no one was willing to help him sort out what was happening then maybe Henrik could. He pushed himself from the chair slowly, his knees buckling the moment he forced his shaky feverish body to stand. He didn't remember falling but he remembered someone screaming. He remembered hearing his mother yelling for them to turn the camera's off.

A million questions raced through Viktor's mind as ringing echoed in his ears, drowning out the chaotic commotion around him. His burning skin felt nice against the cold ground, and Viktor closed his eyes as his vision swirled. He didn't know what the commotion was about. He wasn't sure what was happening. He felt small finger's grasp his hand and heard his sister call his name, but despite desperately wanting to know why she was crying, Viktor couldn't bring himself to open his eyes as his body drifted into an ugly darkness.