Here it is, finally, the final installment of Runaways. Incredibly delayed and probably not as anticipated! I lost momentum due to sickness and lack of inspiration over the holidays and have been feeling incredibly rusty ever since, but I hope that you can enjoy the conclusion somewhat at least.
There's a passage of Victor listening to classical music in one of the paragraphs. I'd like to think that he listens to Gustav Mahler's Adagietto from Symphony no. 5, alternatively Henryk Górecki's Symphony no. 3. Look them up in another browser tab, press play and enjoy the heartbreak.
If you like When you were young and its prequel, please let me know :) As always, thank you for reading (and reviewing)!
xoxo
Victor looked at his phone. Then up, then back down again. Yuuri was beginning to run uncomfortably late, even by Victor's standards. Realising that made him laugh a little. It was funny, how he, Victor Nikiforov, had to wait for him. It was usually the other way around.
It felt a strange to him, standing in the sea of people crowding around him at Barcelona Airport. The amount of mornings he'd been forced to spend alone during the last eight months were easily counted. Eating breakfast alone, getting ready on his own, not being able to talk about skating… it had become a foreign concept to him. Even though it was a habit only eight months old.
Being Yuuri's coach, lover and now, he felt warm inside thinking about it, fiancée had created something Victor realised that he had failed to fully understand until that moment. He could honestly say he'd missed all of that, and not just on that very morning. The small talk, the unintentional and intentional touches, Yuuri's presence… A life with him. A life he'd spent a lifetime looking for.
But Yuuri had decided to slip out alone that morning. Stating that he needed to do something on his own. Something that he'd found hard for some reason. It had been written everywhere on him, not only in his eyes.
Victor shook the prickly feeling off of himself, and decided to call his missing half, no, his missing whole. Not caring even the slightest that it was probably the seventh time he'd done that already in the last half hour. Holding on to the memories of Yuuri sounding perfectly fine, every single time he'd answered his phone. Slightly on edge, true, but fine.
The sigh happened unintentionally, the small huff of air that escaped through his lips. He just wanted to see him, their meeting in the morning had been to abrupt and too unsatisfactory for his taste, and he couldn't wait. Nor did he want to.
As Victor listened to the signal repeating itself in his ear, his eyes quickly found themselves scanning the people coming thought the entrance to the international departures hall. Trying not to get lost in the movement of the crowd bustling about. Trying to see nothing but him, once he would appear.
The muted click made him divert his eyes in order to listen more intently. "Hey, Yuuri? Are you around?"
"Yes, I'm here," Victor could hear Yuuri say. The background noise being almost overpowering, almost drowning him out. Making him sound far away. Small for some reason. "Where are you? I can't see you?"
"Let me go to the check-in," Victor replied and looked up to find his way. "You see where that is?"
"Yes, I'm going there. Oh, wait. I see you now."
Victor turned around instantly and broke out into a smile. It was like he was conditioned to do that. To smile, as soon as he saw him, feeling overwhelmed by a warmth and an expanding need. Yuuri was standing ten meters or so away, waving a little as he put his phone back in his pocket.
His body told him to hurry. Hurry to close the distance in between them. Hurry to take what he hadn't been offered in the morning. Hurry to ask how he was. Hurry to ask where he'd been, what he'd been doing. So, he didn't put up any resistance, he just did what his body wanted him to and got close. Found Yuuri and took him in his arms. Found everything else fade around them as he sighed and held on just a little tighter.
"What's this, no hug back?" He said it jokingly as he let Yuuri go, only to reach out to touch his face.
But, his hand never reached what it intended to touch. Instead of finding that cheek, it touched nothing but air as Yuuri took a step back. Putting a hand up, as to excuse himself.
"No, we… we need to hurry, right?"
"Oh, I guess weㅡ"
Victor interrupted himself when Yuuri walked past him and grabbed his luggage.
"You have the tickets, don't you?" Yuuri said it without looking at him, seemingly strangely fascinated by a smudge on his spinner. Rubbing it repeatedly, although it was beyond apparent that it wasn't coming off.
"Yes," Victor replied upon turning around, reaching into the inner pocket of his coat. Finding himself making excuses for Yuuri's behavior, their interaction, as his fingers searched the pocket. Only coming to the conclusion that Yuuri couldn't handle stress very well, and he had probably been adding to said stress by constantly calling.
With the tickets in hand, Victor asked, "Shall we check in, then?"
The both of them walked towards the check-in, Yuuri trailing a little behind. Victor suddenly felt compelled to say something, to make Yuuri feel at ease. This wasn't the time to be wrapped up in tension, stress or anxiousness. After all, they were going home. Set on deciding what to do with the ever after. Set on celebrating his silver medal with the rest of his family. So Victor slowed down and waited for Yuuri to catch up to him.
"So," Victor began when they were walking side by side, "you did what you had to?"
"W-what?" Yuuri sounded startled, his eyes somewhat enlarged behind his glasses when they made contact with Victor's blue.
"Earlier? You managed to do what you went out to do?"
"Oh, I…" Yuuri paused, just for a second, before he raised his gaze and looked straight ahead. "I did."
"Okay… and?"
"I, uh…" Yuuri's voice died out as they waited in line, and he didn't continue. Like he'd forgotten what he was about to say. "Oh, it's our turn," he suddenly exclaimed when they were instructed to go to an available counter.
"We'd like to check in," Victor said to the clerk before turning to Yuuri, somewhat puzzled by his standoffishness. "Doing okay?"
"Tickets and passports, please."
"Certainly." Victor gave the clerk a quick smile as he put his passport together with the flight tickets on the counter. "Yuuri? Are you doiㅡ"
Then, Victor felt the world fade again. This time, due to a vastly different reason. One that people on the outside probably thought had to do with something as simple as a passport being put on a counter.
-xoxo-
It felt like falling into the sea. The same shock, the same temporary suspension, the same disconnection from his senses. The same brief instant of deciding between moving upwards or settle in sinking.
Victor had always considered himself to be a fighter. Being a world champion isn't something that a person can achieve for free. Reaching the stop and staying there doesn't have anything to do with luck, he was the living proof of that. Everything he'd ever had, he'd paid for. No matter if it was an exchange made with money, sweat, tears, long nights or early mornings, he had the right to it. All of it. He truly, wholeheartedly, undoubtedly believed that.
But now, he didn't know what to think, so he decided to aim for the surface. Like he always did.
After checking in the bags, he took his and Yuuri's passports and boarding passes in his hand as he tried to make his thoughts slow down. Give Yuuri the benefit of the doubt. Make him explain himself, because there was a possibility that there wasn't anything for him to explain. Or… maybe, there was a possibility that he'd misunderstood what he'd seen. Maybe his mind had played him a trick so cruel that made his mind and body spin out of control, made him react to something completely untrue?
"Which gate is it," Victor heard Yuuri ask as he walked behind him towards the security control. Strange how they kept ending up like that recently. One in front and one behind.
Victor couldn't make himself answer. Instead, his eyes tried to see. His mind tried to make sure. But he never managed to, being constantly interrupted by other people. By himself, as he dropped his coat on the floor. By the metal detector, for he was still wearing his belt.
He saw Yuuri on the other side of the security control, putting on his jacket, gathering up his belongings and putting them his pockets. Yuuri was too far away, details obscured and impossible to see. Victor just wanted to get on the other side andㅡ
"Legs apart, sir. Up with your arms, thank you."
This was wrong. What he thought he'd seen was wrong, the panic inside was wrong, the hands that were on him were wrong.
"Thank you, sir. Don't forget your things."
That too. Why did it feel like a struggle to get to Yuuri, to reach him and be reassured? Why did he had to gather his things, put them back where they were supposed to be when his mind told him that the only thing that mattered was missing? It was wrong, all of it!
"Yuuri?" Victor elbowed himself through the small crowd that were doing the same as him, gathering up things upon things. Painstakingly slow, acting as a strange barrier between him and what he needed to reach.
Why isn't he stopping?
"Yuuri!" With his coat over his arm, he tried to put his belt back in the belt loops of his trousers. Not getting it quite right, but not caring the slightest.
Why?
"I'm talking to you! Yuuri, stop! Don't walk away from me!"
People around them stopped, if only for a few seconds, Victor noticed. Yuuri had stopped too, three or so paces in front of him.
"Yuuri, what the heㅡ"
"Which gate?"
"What?!" He felt agitated. Panicked. Maybe that shone through, made his voice sound more sharp that it had to be, but Victor couldn't help it. Couldn't help the feeling of being cornered, that his life was at stake. That he had to... yeah, fight for it.
Victor closed the distance between them and managed to get lost in the flapping thoughts inside himself during those few seconds. Thoughts of Yuuri asking about the gate and how silly that was, thoughts of the possibility that Yuuri might not have heard him the first couple of times he called for him, thoughts of Yuuri still being stressed and acting irrational due to him hurrying. Thoughts that, not surprisingly, ended up in uncertainty, that he'd seen something he now wasn't sure of.
When he touched Yuuri's shoulder, it felt electrical. That invisible magnetism the both of them couldn't deny. Usually reassuring but carrying something else with it this time. Something appalling?
"Turn around."
"Victor, we need toㅡ"
"No, you listen. Turn around, do it now!"
It felt like breaking through the surface, seeing him. Those brown eyes, making him leave the cold darkness below. Those lips, making him feel like he could breathe again. That frame of his, like driftwood keeping him from falling.
Falling.
"Let me see," Victor said through gritted teeth, his hand outstretched, offered to Yuuri.
"See… what, I don'tㅡ"
"Your hand. Let me see your hand." One final imploration, one final way of calming the sea, one final try at treading water. Because, nothing in life is free. Especially not daring, living. That's when you know, really know, that things are at stake. That you need to fight for them.
Falling?
Yes, he was losing his grip. Thanks to his eyes that suddenly couldn't blink, look away, unsee what was playing out before him.
Yuuri's hand in his. Not bound to him anymore.
It was no use delaying the inevitable, although Yuuri had hoped that the inevitable could have waited a little, thinking that Victor would have been better off noticing his bare finger when they'd landed in Japan. Or even later. How puerile and impossible that was.
But hearing the words, the final favor Victor could ever ask of him, he complied. He gave him his right hand and it was met with an enveloping warmth. Soft, it was, Victor's hand around his own. It wasn't gripping him, just held him there. Almost like Victor was carrying something delicate and wounded in his palm.
In a way, he was.
"Where… where is it?" Victor's voice sounded low now, almost inaudible due to the setting. The masses upon masses of people trying to get where they were supposed to be and the noises that naturally followed. "Did you forget to wear it today?"
Yuuri tried not to feel Victor's thumb, the way it was touching his ring finger repeatedly. Searching for metal, but only feeling skin.
It wasn't a question Yuuri found hard to answer. In fact, he felt relieved. If there was one question he'd been wanting Victor to ask, it was that one. He had an answer to it, he'd been practising how to say it, how to steer the conversation to that question and nothing else ever since the night before.
"I did wear it," he started, looking at their hands, his being held by Victor's, "but it's, I… I returned it."
It took a second, maybe slightly longer before Victor's thumb stopped moving. Stopped its feeble attempts of trying to conjure up what was missing. And as it stopped, the grip around Yuuri's hand became firmer.
"Why?"
Yuuri felt a shiver race throughout his skin. He had no more answers, nothing to say, nothing to come up with. Everything he'd been focusing on came back to the question Victor had posed already. Also, he was unsure of Victor, of what would happen, where they would end up. He had tried to prepare himself for that too, see before his inner eye how Victor would react. Yes, he had prepared himself for anger and tears, but this strange calmness was something else. Something horrifying.
"The boarding of flight eight-seven-two to Frankfurt will begin in twenty minutes. Passengers are advised to go to gate thirty six. Thank you."
Yuuri gave his hand the slightest pull, a reaction to their flight being announced or maybe to the hardening sensation in his stomach, but the pressure around it made it impossible to free it. At least, not without force.
"Victor, we need to go. The flight, it'sㅡ"
"I know that," Victor replied, still sounding uncomfortably calm, "but I asked you a question."
Yuuri peered up at Victor. As he met his eyes, it felt like time had stopped. Taking them with it, suspending them without mercy. Keeping them in a moment of ultimate realisation, for it was done now. The bond that had tied a unconfident skater together with an unlikely coach, tied a man new at love together with a man desperately seeking for its true meaning, tied two parts of a whole together with a seemingly undisruptive force just… was no more.
But why does it feel like it's still there?
Yuuri could see that emotions were rippling underneath Victor's skin. He was tense, there was something off with his jaw. Also, Yuuri noticed, Victor's eyes were tearing up. Not like before though, when he'd announced his retirement that evening in the hotel room. When fear, disappointment and a shadow of doubt had been making them aqueous. No, there was something else behind them now. Something unknown to Yuuri. Something that didn't quite fit, something unsuitable no, uncharacteristic for Victor.
"Well?"
Victor's voice made Yuuri find his way back, back to the here and now. Back to Barcelona Airport where time seemingly had carried on, despite his initial feeling. Back to the torture of being them. But despite time finding its way again, he still didn't know what to say or what to respond so he just shrugged. His body reacting truthfully to what his mind couldn't find an answer to.
It sounded like Victor made a small noise then, something low and animalistic, something that made him sound wounded at best. The way Victor looked away, back into the security control area made Yuuri think that he'd misheard it all. In fact, they were at an airport with a myriad of things, people and situations that sound could have originated from.
What if it was Victor?
"You can keep yours," Yuuri heard himself say, as if someone else had taken control over him. Someone without an understanding of the situation. Someone who desperately wanted to cauterise a wound too deep. No, the voice came from someone who just wanted two people to feel that they could somehow endure, but not knowing how to make it so. "Keep it for good luck."
Yuuri felt his hand and arm fall down against his side. It took a few seconds for him to understand that. That Victor had turned around and started to walk, that he had left him there. And in that moment, Yuuri understood something else. The unknown, unsuitable thing he'd seen in Victor.
Walking behind Victor, keeping his distance, Yuuri not only understood. He became sure.
What he had seen was the emotional aftermath of someone feeling completely, utterly defeated. Someone who had allowed himself to let go of what he thought was his.
-xoxo-
They barely spoke after that, although they probably wanted to. The few words shared between them were nothing but necessities, like 'excuse me, going to the bathroom', 'can you throw this away', 'want some coffee too'. Like they were not quite strangers, but far away from being what they were, hours prior. Inside them, at least inside Yuuri, the words his mind wanted him to say were coloured by habit and memories, almost like nothing had happened between them.
But something had indeed happened between them, now impossible to undo, and it was on him. It was his doing that made them sit slightly turned away from each other, with him looking at the wall of the cabin or out the window and Victor at other passengers. It was his doing that every accidental touch felt like fire, but not the kind they previously shared. Instead, it burned and scorched. It lingered, making everything feel so incredibly wrong. Cementing the fact that Victor was not for him. It was his doing that he would probably have to explain things he himself couldn't find words for, once they would get back to Japan and his family.
Tension aside, it wasn't really the words or lack thereof, that made the journey back to Hasetsu excruciating. It was when Victor had fallen asleep after three or so hours in the air between Frankfurt and Tokyo, and his head automatically found Yuuri's shoulder. When Victor's hand, heavy and warm, ended up on his thigh. When Yuuri found himself wanting to stay in that bubble, wanting to reciprocate that touch. But also, wondering what he would do when he would fall asleep. Maybe, just maybe, his body would stay in the frame of his seat and not wander. But oh, how he wanted it to. How he wanted sleep to act as the best possible excuse for him to do what he knew he couldn't anymore.
Listening to Victor's deep breaths, slowly exhaled against the side of his neck, made Yuuri feel a vibration inside, something that instantly made him feel weepy. He battled conflicting thoughts being that close to Victor, swaying between feeling that he had the right to mourn what now was lost to him and that other thought, the not so becoming one. That he had nothing but himself to blame and should take the consequences. Take it like a man and move on.
After all, he could have said no on that day in April. No to being coached. No to Victor.
With a sigh, he closed his eyes. Wondering if he could ever forgive himself for leaning his head against Victor's, for being so inappropriately close. For inhaling Victor's scent, for embarrassingly enough wishing for it to be on him. For hoping that sleep would come and claim him and fast, for he wanted to be somewhere where he didn't have to abide to rules, worry about bad decisions made. Just be somewhere, where he could pretend that nothing had changed.
When they finally reached Hasetsu, it was late afternoon. Bordering early evening. Japan was still the same, despite what had happened between them.
It was a silly thought, really, thinking that the world somehow would acknowledge that, the decisions made in Barcelona but nevertheless, Victor sought comfort in that thought. It felt soothing to think that they could be watched over by something vast, by something that must possess all answers. Maybe, it would share its insights if he wished for it hard enough. Then again, probably not. The world, maybe even the universe, had shown that it didn't care for love and those in desperate need of it. That much had become clear to him.
"So, uh," Victor started as they could see Yutopia in the distance, "I'm not… I mean, I'm going to give you space. I won't be in your way."
The first coherent sentence since they left Barcelona and that was all he could come up with?
"Mhm," came Yuuri's muffled reply.
Inside, the was another voice trying to make itself heard. One demanding answers, one that kept on telling him to hold on, to grab Yuuri and not let him go until everything had been said. Until everything had been fixed. But, that was too late now, especially since they were basically on the threshold of Yuuri's family home. Yuuri's moment of truth, coming at them at an alarming speed.
Victor decided that he wouldn't be that person. The one making things difficult, asking questions, making demands. So he strangled that voice inside him with a small sigh, hoping that he'd culled that persistent nuisance of a voice that, painfully enough, was making too much sense.
No, he would keep to himself, he figured. Be present in body but not in mind. Offer enough fake smiles to the Katsuki family for them to believe that everything was fine, the decision made… mutual.
He heard Yuuri open up the front door. The sliding door that had previously carried nothing but positive connotations with it, the sound of being home. Now, it didn't wake that feeling inside Victor. If anything, it made him feel out of place. Lost without comparison.
The noises from inside as Yuuri stepped through the door were ear-deafening, and to Victor's amazement, they continued when he stepped inside. He thought it would be different, he'd pictured the Katsukis stare and grow completely silent upon his arrival.
It felt strange to him, getting hugs. Attention. Love. The warmth of the Katsuki family and friends was still there, trying its best to envelop him. How could he possibly accept that, give it back? He didn't belong to that setting now, he was sticking out. Feeling like a stranger. How strange that they would just take him in, despite Yuuri's decision.
"Yuuri, tell Vicchan that this is for him too!"
The sound of Hiroko's voice made him take in his surroundings. Hiroko sounded delighted, to Victor's horror, making him understand the larger picture. She didn't know. On the other hand, what did she know?
Victor was sure that she knew that the kiss on national TV started it all. She knew of shared beds. She'd seen him put his arm around her son, how they had shared kisses when thinking they were alone. She probably knew that they'd shared more than that, cleaning Yuuri's room when they were away at competitions. Yes, Hiroko knew all that, without a doubt. But, did she know that they'd made promises to each other? Promises that her son had broken just the same? Promises that made Victor think that Yuuri, heㅡ
"What do you mean, mom?"
"It's Victor's birthday soon! We want to celebrate him as much as you!"
"Victor?" Yuuri said with without looking at him. Almost as he was addressing thin air. "Mom wants to tell you that this is for you too."
"I-I'm sorry?"
"This. It's… for your birthday."
ㅡhadn't been truthful. Not even to himself.
-xoxo-
Victor retired early, using jet lag as the blame for his uncharacteristically low spirits.
He knew that he hadn't been much of a company by keeping to himself like that, barely touching his drink, smiling when necessary but not much else. He knew that he hadn't been himself, but worrying about how he had been perceived throughout the evening felt immensely obsolete. Come to think of it, everything did, now that his moments were counted.
He'd been asked by Minako to say something, something about his and Yuuri's time together, and all he could come up with was something generic. Something without the passion and soul, something without all those words he actually wanted to say. But he'd kept it civil, because as the night progressed, the inevitable questions inevitably came like he'd expected them to. The ones about the future. He'd passed them over to Yuuri with some indistinct excuse, not staying long enough to demand or become offered an answer, although he wanted to. But he knew he couldn't bear to hear what Yuuri was about to say, no matter how he would phrase it or in what language.
With Yuuri's unintelligible explanation of their future in Japanese following him, he'd returned to the room where he previously had spent countless nights alone. With Makkachin as his only company and classical music in his ears, the thoughts came crashing in. Just like the last time he could remember spending time alone in that room. But instead of branching out, like his thoughts more than often did when he was alone, they stayed focused on only one thing.
Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri.
For an entire year, he'd been thinking about Yuuri. It had been comforting before, allowing his mind to travel back to a drunken dance, clothes being shed and an offer he'd waited too long to take up on. Now, he wanted to wean himself off it, the only thing that had mattered, the only thing that made him feel that retirement maybe wasn't as daunting as it had seemed at first.
Again, that dark haired beauty had proved how easily he could turn his life upside down. For all the wrong reasons, this time.
Victor pulled out one of the earbuds and listened. Seemed like the inn had simmered down. Some muted voices were still heard outside his room, but as far as he could tell, they belonged to Toshiya and Hiroko. That meant they were probably cleaning up and that the festivities were over, giving him an opportunity to go outside without having to meet anyone.
"Makkachin, want to go out?"
The poodle looked at Victor from the corner of his eye and slowly wagged its tail, apparently saying yes to the proposition.
"Come then."
Victor got out of the bed and quickly headed for the front door. He noticed that Hiroko saw him as he passed the main room. She smiled and nodded at him, which he reciprocated in a similar fashion, despite feeling a sting inside.
To think that all of the things he'd come to love were to be taken away, so easily. It wasn't just about Yuuri, it was all the things that came with him. His family. His friends. Hasetsu. The feeling inside Victor that made him feel settled.
Victor put his coat on, then his shoes and ushered Makkachin outside with a sigh. He decided to stand and wait for the dog to finish relieving itself, and leaned a little against the outer wall with his hands in his pockets.
He realised that he had to leave, but why did it feel like his heart was stuck to this place? Why had St. Petersburg faded during these eight months, and why had Hasetsu gained colour?
"Shit," he said under his breath. The feeling, that tremble in his throat, only started to build as his hand gripped the mobile phone in his pocket.
He knew he needed to leave, and this time, make a decision based on reason.
'The future? Um, well… I… I… this was my last competition as a professional skater. At least, that's what Victor and I decided. He's not going to coach me.'
'Oh… Victor? He's… he's going back. Back to Russia. He needs to think about his career too. I… I've borrowed him long enough.'
'As I said, Mari, they were just a token of my appreciation. I wanted to thank him andㅡ'
'He was kidding. They weren't engagement rings. You know Victor, he's…'
Everything.
'...he's got a strange sense of humor at times. He thought it was funny and… I'm sorry. For not saying anything, back then.'
Yuuri exhaled. They just kept on looping, those questions. That conversation from yesterday evening. But it was done now, his immediate family knew what he and Victor also knew. The only difference was that he and Victor never… said anything about it. At least, not to each other.
Yuuri wondered if they had to. If they had to bring it up, the overhanging fact that Victor was going to leave. Continue with his life on hold, because of him taking over. Maybe, it didn't matter if they did or not. It wouldn't change anything after all. But… he needed to know when.
He sat up in his bed and reached for his glasses. With a sigh, he put them on, brushing away some strands of hair that got stuck in between the rims and his face. He sighed, for the world became clear again.
Yeah, he needed to know when, but it felt not only strange to bring it up with Victor. It felt excruciating. Unthinkable to bring up because that would make it real.
That voice inside him, that voice that usually reminded him of all of his worries and fears time and time again, did nothing to help. Neither did that new voice, the one that wanted him to suck it up and carry on, anything to relieve him of that indescribable feeling they had brought on within.
It was a sudden influx, but Yuuri considered if it was possible to avoid Victor until he'd left. If he could stay holed up in his room, without having to see him but still knowing when he would return to Russia. He could eat at different times, or not at the inn. It was doable. He could probably sneak out to skate too, if given a possibility. Just to kill time.
Logic spoke to Yuuri then, or rather, took him over. It battled his self hatred and self blame and became a winner, at least for the time being. And just like that, it became decided. He would ask Victor when, and he was going to be around him for as long as he was there. Act as normal as possible. After all, that would give Victor some peace of mind. Knowing that it was okay betweenㅡ
He put his hands over his mouth, muffling the small cry that fought its way out of him. And just like that, Yuuri felt Logic slowly lose its dominion over him.
-xoxo-
It took a while for Yuuri to dare to go downstairs. The fear of meeting Victor was almost as palpable as the fear of his feelings faltering, showing, telling all and everyone that he'd spent a good hour letting them get the best of him.
As he came down the stairs, he glanced in the direction of Victor's room. The sliding doors were open, but he couldn't see him. He felt ashamed for feeling relieved, but it was almost as a battle was won, not seeing Victor first thing. Something that could keep him together for a little while longer.
"Morning," Toshiya said as they passed each other, Yuuri heading for the dining room and Toshiya for the kitchen.
"Morning, Dad. I was more tired than I thought," Yuuri said, trying to laugh a little to make it sound natural but feeling somewhat embarrassed for getting out of bed at lunchtime. "Um… where's Victor?"
"Victor? He was carrying things outside last I saw him."
Why did his heart throb so hard, why was it pumping ice into his veins? Yuuri felt frozen, taken over by wave upon wave of chills, and only managed to bleat, "Th-things?"
"Yes, he has a lot of things here so it's good he started already. Some were supposed to be picked up today, I think your sister said? The things up in the storage room." Toshiya corrected his glasses a little before he added, "I think it's sad that you're retiring, son. This season has been good for you. I need to, you know..."
"Yes, I… I know. Are… are you sure he's outside?"
"I think so. Go check."
There weren't many steps to take in order to get outside, but to Yuuri, walking to Sapporo felt like an easier task. So, he stood there for a while before he dared to take a few steps towards the front door, naturally stopping in front of Victor's, no, the old banquet room.
He's really leaving!
The image was overwhelming. There were quite a few boxes inside, already taped up and labelled in Cyrillic. Victor had packed some of the lamps that previously stood next to the bed, the matryoshkas, some of the books. Almost all his clothes. Instantly, Yuuri felt it again, that flood of ice coursing through him, making him unable to do anything but stare.
Of course, the front door had to slide open at that exact time. Making his heart cease to beat, for Yuuri didn't have to look to know who was looking at him from across the hall. He didn't have to look, for there was something about Victor's presence that resounded within him, telling him a million things without the use of words. It was still the same, although this time, he couldn't make anything out. It was a cacophony, an apparent discord between them.
Yuuri heard Victor hang up his coat and take off his shoes before he stepped up from the genkan, but he still couldn't look his way. It was as if the image of the boxes buried itself into him, burned itself onto his retina.
"Sorry," he heard Victor say, as he walked past him, accidentally brushing against his arm.
Yuuri had to breathe through Victor's touch. His body wanted to react, wanted to reach out to Victor as he passed, but those voices inside himself, that arguing troika, made him fixed in the same position.
"I…" Yuuri started, realising that his voice was too weak. He cleared his throat a little, and saw Victor continue to pack that bust by that Greek sculptor he never remembered the name of. "Victor, I…"
"I'm packing, Yuuri."
Hearing Victor speak his name made the spell of immovability fade, allowed him to use his body again. So, he carefully took three steps, or possibly four, until he stood outside Victor's room. In the doorway, looking in.
"I can… I… don't… I can help you. If you want."
"Thank you, but I'm almost done."
"Oh…" Yuuri broke the divide made by that doorway and picked up a book on his way inside. "I never asked you why you brought so many books."
Why can't you just turn around?
Yuuri felt disappointed by Victor's standoffishness, but he couldn't quite find the reason why. Maybe, he wanted to show Victor that he was okay. That he could talk to him, somewhat at least, and not turn into a snively idiot that cried, preferably in bathroom stalls. Maybe, he wanted to show Victor that they could part on somewhat agreeable terms. Maybe, and this hurt him when he realised it, he wanted Victor to turn around just to make himself a memory. A memory of Victor Nikiforov, the Russian living legend and his childhood idol, standing opposite him. Standing inside his home with his blue eyes looking at him, smiling at him, one last time.
But, that didn't happen. Instead, Victor got down on his knees and continued with packing. Books this time.
"Here," Yuuri whispered and reached the book down, over Victor's shoulder.
"I had a feeling you were a late sleeper," Victor said, his voice mellow as he took the book, inspected the title with a sigh and put in inside the box with the others.
"What?"
"Why I brought so many books. I thought I would get the time to read."
"But… you brought so manㅡ"
Yuuri cut himself off before he could finish the sentence. It became clear to him that Victor had planned to stay.
"Yeah," Victor whispered from down below, his head bent over the box.
"Victor, I… I wanted to ask you when..." Yuuri paused and took a deep breath, preparing himself for the question he feared to ask but knew he had to. "I wanted to ask you when you are leaving."
Victor stopped what he was doing and sat quiet for a while. Yuuri wasn't sure that Victor had heard the question, or maybe he had but didn't think that Yuuri was worthy of a reply. Either way, Yuuri prepared to repeat the question, now that it finally had been voiced.
Just as Yuuri drew breath to steel himself for a second take, Victor interjected. "Tomorrow," he said. "I'm leaving tomorrow."
Yuuri's hand automatically covered his mouth. He was going to keep his promise to himself, to not become emotional. He would show Victor that he was okay. He would show Victor that he was free from the shackles of Yuuri Katsuki, free to make what he wanted of his life and nurture the rest of his career.
So they remained like that, the former coach on his knees with his head bent and the former student with his mouth covered, waging battles of their own.
When they finally spoke, after what seemed as an indescribable silence, it was Yuuri who took the initiative.
"Will… will you please find me before you go?"
Yuuri saw Victor nod over his box, nothing more.
"Good. Then I'll… I'll see you tomorrow."
Without a word, Yuuri left and headed for his room. Head bent down as he quickly walked across the hallway and up the stairs, closing the door behind him and finding solace by burying his face in the pillow. Deciding not to leave the sanctity within those four walls. Somehow thinking that he was the only one hurting.
But down below, hunched over a box of books, someone else was hurting too. Weeping soundlessly into his hands with tears landing of the cover of a book depicting a story about love. A love just like this.
That night, Yuuri slept horribly, if anything at all. He fell into a strange state of being partially awake, and kept checking his phone out of fear. Every time he awoke, it felt like he'd been sleeping for hours when in reality, nothing more than, say, fifteen minutes had passed. But it was better that way, he reasoned with himself in that far from lucid state. Sleeping in would mean that he would walk down those stairs straight into a paradigm shift, one he needed to experience for himself in order to cope.
When he finally gave in to his anxiousness, he once again looked at his phone and decided that trying to sleep once more was a luxury he couldn't afford. It was dark outside, still, when he crawled out of bed, got dressed and walked down the stairs on soundless feet.
It wasn't a surprise that no one else was awake, that the inn was silent and shrouded in darkness. To Yuuri, it didn't matter. Or rather, he liked it this way. This way, he could sit and wait. Be alone with his thoughts, making plans about what to say and what to do, once Victor would emerge from his room. Also, doing something actively felt better than tossing and turning in bed, even though sitting and staring intently at that pair of sliding doors across the room wasn't really making him any less worried or active.
The morning crept on, brought with it daylight and activity. With it came the surprise his family got when they found him sitting in the dining hall, accompanied by nothing but a cup of tea and the local paper from a few days back, with a photo him and Victor on the front page. The one taken in China.
"Are you awake already?" his mother asked, not even trying to mask the tone in her voice after both his sister and father had made astonished and unbelieving noises.
He just nodded in response. Somehow, it felt ridiculous that the one time he was up before his family was due to a reason that wasn't attributed to them. Not even the slightest. In fact, they didn't matter right now but he knew they would. When Victor was gone, they would.
"Mom," Yuuri said hesitantly after searching her out in the kitchen, "do you know when Victor's leaving?"
"No. He tried to tell me but…" She shook her head a little, probably referring to the ever present language barrier when three languages collided. Two of which she couldn't understand.
"Oh," Yuuri said, trying to decide if he dared to take a shower or not. Then again, Victor had given his word but knowing his fickle nature… No, he wouldn't. Not now. He would seek him out. He had to.
"Mom, I'm going to take a shower," he declared. "Can you ask dad to get me if Victor gets up?"
His mother nodded and gave him a smile. One he would have preferred not to have seen because it was the kind of smile a mother makes when she knows.
-xoxo-
Yuuri had his shower in peace. Or rather, he wasn't bothered.
Standing in the shower, he just listened as the stream of water collided with the top of his bent down head. He listened for footsteps, a knock on the door, maybe a voice calling out, but the only sound he could hear was the hiss of the shower, the myriad of drip-drops when water leaped off his body and onto the floor.
Strange, how such a simple thing like taking a shower could be tied up like that. Tied up in audiovisual memories. If this had been a normal day, any day before Barcelona, Victor would be there with him. Either waiting for his turn or crowding the shower with him. Victor would shampoo his hair, put a dollop of foam on his nose and gently blow it off. Afterwards, Victor would dry his hair with a towel, not minding the soft reprimands to wait until he had put on underwear. Victor would give some ambiguous comment about how he looked, making him blush. And then, they would go out together, curious to see what the day would bring.
But this isn't a normal day, Yuuri thought to himself as he turned the water off and reached for his towel.
As he was drying himself off, he started to wonder how a 'goodbye' could possibly feel like. He'd only lived through a few in his life, two as a matter of fact. The first one was when he went to Detroit, leaving his family as a nineteen year old, the second was when he left Detroit at twenty three, leaving not only a friend behind but his aspirations of becoming someone who could stand on the same ice as Victor.
But, saying goodbye to family and friends wasn't the same as saying goodbye to someone that had taken him over, filled him up in ways he couldn't possibly explain. Not even to himself.
Yuuri pulled his sweater over his head and put on his jeans, folding the towel up neatly.
No, this wasn't the same. Not at all. He had been filled with emotions then, those two times prior, but now, it felt like he was fighting himself. A part of him telling him to let it all out, another scolding him for even thinking that, making him feel caught in something revolving, something that went both high and low.
As he exited the shower area, he heard footsteps coming down from the stairs leading up to his room. He waited in the doorway and saw Victor come down, rounding the corner as he headed towards the dining hall with his hands in his pockets.
His first impulse was to go back in, close the door and sit down. His second was to call out, call Victor's name to get his attention. His third was the one he went with, to just go to him andㅡ
"Were you looking for me?"
Blue eyes gave him the briefest contact before they turned away.
"Yes, I was."
"I… I asked dad to get me when you were up but I guess heㅡ"
"I told them to wait."
"But… you went up to my room?"
"Mhm."
They stopped, just outside Victor's, no, the old banquet room. Side by side, not facing each other. Breaths and rustling clothes playing their requiem.
"So…" Victor started.
"So…" Yuuri replied.
"About social media?"
"Oh. I… follow me if you want."
"Will you reply?"
"I… I don't know."
"Hm. Texts, then?"
"Please let me know when you're home. In St. Petersburg."
"Can I keep your number?"
"Victor…"
"Right. I'm sorry."
They glanced at each other then, and for a moment, just as long as it takes to feel a heartbeat, it felt like before. The feeling he always got when blue eyes looked into his, when something resembling a supernova smile came and went.
"The rest of my things, theyㅡ"
"Yeah. Later this week. Or so I heard. Have you eaten?"
"Yes."
"Do, no, I mean, are you…"
"Yes. Soon."
Yuuri fisted his hands. He wasn't sure what he had pictured this to be. This goodbye. For that was what they were doing, he figured. They were trying to find the appropriate words fitting their last scene, the history of them coming to a close.
What if I'll miss you, he wanted to ask. He wanted to ask that, and a myriad of other questions, but he choked that impulse even though it felt alarmingly close to explode out of him.
"Are you taking the train," he asked instead, trying to forget all those questions he wanted answers to.
"No. Taxi this time." Victor put his hand in the pocket of his trousers and fished out his mobile, looked at the time and put it back. "You Japanese like being on time, so…"
When Victor's finger closed around his own, he felt faint. When Victor's fingers closed around his hand, his heart stopped. When Victor's lips touched the back of his hand, he wanted to cry. Cry and fall into his arms and make it all undone. But that wasn't the way of Yuuri Katsuki. When Yuuri Katsuki decided on something, it was set in stone.
So was this.
"I need to go," Victor said then, loosening up his grip around Yuuri's hand. "Makka, come."
"Victor, before you go…"
"Yes?"
"Thank you. For this. For the time you gave me, for being my coach," Yuuri blurted out, bowing deeply with his eyes tightly pinched together. "Thank you for making me win silver. Thank you for… for believing in me."
"Thank you, Yuuri. For allowing me to."
Yuuri could do nothing but watch as Victor patted Makkachin before he directed his eyes and attention elsewhere, before he went off to say goodbye to the rest of the Katsuki family.
It felt unfair. The way his family so easily did what he wanted to, with the tears, the hugs, the pats on Victor's cheek. The gift Victor was given and graciously accepted with a smile that looked genuine despite it all. Why wasn't that for him?
His entire family followed Victor to the genkan, silently watching as Victor put on his shoes and coat. Yuuri stood behind them, a few steps further in. It felt safer. Safer but harder.
"I'll be going," Victor declared, sliding the door open and wrangling both Makkachin and a bag.
"Please come back," Yuuri heard his family say in unison.
Victor seemed to smile at the pleasantry, dropping his bag on the ground outside before touching the frame of door with his fingers. And with a hissing sound made by the sliding door closing, Victor Nikiforov was gone.
Further in, still standing in the exact same spot despite his family dispersing, Yuuri let out a small whimper. Trying to talk himself into believing that the last eight months, the look Victor had given him just seconds before, the feeling of immense loss in his chest, were all real. Not gone, pretended or lost with something so simple as a door closing in front of him.
-xoxo-
Almost twenty four hours later, a text message popped up on the screen of Yuuri's mobile phone. It was short, nothing more than four words long, but when Yuuri saw it he went straight to his closet.
Sitting with the hidden stack of posters of Victor in his lap, he felt tears welling up. Not because of the fact that he had decided to throw them away, not at all, but because of the fact that on one of them, there was a message.
Written with exquisite penmanship.
Just as short as the text message on his phone.
-the end-