He had turned his phone off. This was a brave move considering if Viktor or Yakov tried to call him, and he didn't answer, he'd be in serious trouble. But he didn't want to talk to anyone right now. He couldn't talk to anyone right now. The only thing he needed right now, the only thing he wanted, was to be alone.

He stood in the middle of the ice, pushing his headphones in his ears harshly, pressing play on his iPod as Asking Alexandria blasted through the tiny speakers. He let out a loud sigh, closing his eyes, listening to the loud music as chills washed over him, a million thoughts rushing through his head. He'd forgotten his jacket which was probably another mistake, but there was no way in hell he was going back. Especially since Viktor would be there now, asking questions.

He bit his lip as the music picked up and opened his eyes to look down at the dried blood painted across his palms. Faint bruising was evident under the pale flesh and Yurio winced as he tried scraping some of the red scabs away from the long cut. It didn't hurt much, but the teenager still inhaled sharply as some blood slowly pushed through the new opening.

When they'd gotten back to Russia, Yuuri had taken Yurio to the rink while Viktor picked up Makkachin. Despite Yuuri riding Yurio to take it slow, the Russian Punk pushed himself harder than intended, wanting to make up for lost time since he was still recovering from his illness a few days before. Viktor had been quite mad, giving Yurio stern looks as he cleaned the fresh wounds scrapped into the teenager's flesh.

Yurio sighed loudly, holding his breath for a few minutes as he glanced towards the empty stands. He knew no one was going to be here, but for some reason, he still felt disappointment eating away at him. He flexed his arms, raising his hands above his head. He's not going to be here, Yuri, he thought. Stop expecting to see him dumbass. What about her? Yurio swallowed, turning the volume up on his iPod, letting the music flow through his body, mimicking the sound as movements on the ice.

He felt his body begin to relax, his mind beginning to slow as all the frustration and pent-up anger left his tired body. He smiled slightly as the next song began to play, picking up speed as he practiced one of the routines him and Otabek had been choreographing together. He drew in a deep breath as he landed his next jump perfectly, excitement washing through his body. Despite having been here this morning, it felt good to be on the ice. It felt good to be here. It felt like home.

Yurio wiped some sweat that had begun to drip down his face lazily, stopping momentarily to catch his breath. He pulled his phone from his pocket and turned it on, biting his lip as he waited for the screen to power on. He shook his head as he flipped through 10 missed calls, all of them from Viktor or Yuuri, and shoved the phone back in his pocket, flexing his shoulders. He spun freely, watching the arena spin in a multitude of dizzying colors, feeling his stomach protest the blurry scene. Yurio slowed, skating towards the edge of the rink as the next song blasted through the blue headphones, preparing to work on his jumps.

Confusion etched across his face as he tried to focus on the soft melody flowing through the speakers. He didn't know this song… well he did, it sounded familiar but he wasn't sure where he'd heard it from. He pushed away from the wall, picking up speed as he landed his first jump flawlessly. He licked his lips as he continued his speed, preparing for a triple axel, clenching his fists as realization washed over him. He knew this song. He knew it well. On Love Agape. Grandpa. This was Grandpa's song.

The Russian Punk sucked in a harsh breath as Agape sounded through his headphones, and Yurio faltered momentarily, changing his routine to a Double Axel instead of a Triple. His foot collided with the ice sharply and Yurio let out a soft yelp as his right shoulder smacked against the ice harshly. He groaned, wiping away some blood that was forming in his mouth and pushed himself up on trembling arms. He stood slightly, putting some weight on his ankle to judge if it was twisted, gasping slightly as pain flooded his ankle. He cleared his throat, standing straighter, wincing as something popped in his shoulder causing the Russian to drop to his knees quickly.

Yurio groaned loudly as tears filled his eyes, spilling down his pale face like melted ice cream. The teenager let go of his shoulder, sprawling his legs out in front of him quickly. He yanked his skates from his feet, throwing the metal shoes across the ice, watching it land several times, each with a loud thunk. He buried his head in his hands as he the music continued to play through his headphones, soft, sweet, and bitter. He ripped the headphones from his ears, throwing them across the ice harshly, hearing a soft crack as they met the cold ground. He didn't want to hear that song. He didn't want to remember. All his Agape had left the world when his grandfather died; and now the only thing left was bitter resentment, agonizing memories, and a broken heart. He sighed loudly as he fell back on the ice, wincing as his injured shoulder smacked against the solid ground.

He laid there like that for a while, staring at the white ceiling above him, listening to the sound of his own breathing, watching as tiny puffs of air formed in front of his face, disappearing a second later. Numb chills wracked his tiny frame as his bare arms laid motionless on top of the ice, causing the teenager's teeth to chatter unconsciously. Yurio looked to his left to see his bag laying a few feet away, the cheetah print scarf his grandfather had made protruding from the open bag. Yurio grit his teeth. It should have been you.

He sat up slowly, running a shaky hand through his hair as he let out a loud sigh. He pulled his phone from his pocket, feeling his bottom lip begin to quiver as he glanced down at the messages strewn across the small screen.

-Hey Baby! Call me. I want to see you Yuri!

-Yuri, honey, it's mom. Give me a call. Love you.

-Yura, are you okay? Viktor wants to know. Call us, okay? – Yuuri.

-Honey, I have something to tell you! Give me a call when you can! Love Mom.

Yurio's fingers hovered over the small keyboard as his thumb flickered through the messages quickly, skimming through them. He swallowed loudly as his phone vibrated in his hands and Yurio dropped it quickly; the small device smacking against the ground. The teenager wiped his nose on the bottom of his shirt as shaky fingers reached for the vibrating mobile. He coughed softly as the phone went dark, the vibrating ceasing and Yurio wiped at the remaining tears on his cheeks.

He pulled his right foot towards him, pulling his sock off gently, gasping as greenish purple painted the injured ankle. He touched it softly, relieved that a dull pain was the only thing that he felt as he pressed his fingers against the bruise. It looked worse than it was. He would need to hide that otherwise Viktor was going to kill him. Yurio let go of his ankle and pulled his shirt collar down slightly, frowning as the same purple, blue and green bruises met his eyes.

The Russian punk sighed loudly as his phone vibrated again, and glanced down at the mobile clutched in his hand, his thumb trembling over the "talk" button. Micha.

Yurio pressed the answer button and brought the phone to his ear slowly, "H-Hello?"

"Hi baby! It's Mom!" A voice echoed through. Yurio pulled the phone away from his ear, gritting his teeth as tears welled in his eyes again. He swallowed thickly as memories rushed back to him.

"What do you w-want?" Yurio asked softly. He felt nausea course through him as he heard his mother sigh on the other end. He sniffed loudly, biting his lip as his other's face flashed in front of him. He hadn't seen here in almost 4 years. Hell, he hadn't talked to her in 6.

"I wanted to see you baby. I'm in town for a while," his mom said softly.

Yurio shook his head, wiping his nose once more with the bottom of his shirt, "No."

The line was quiet for a few minutes and Yurio wondered if she had hung up. He heard a loud sniff, realizing she had been crying. "I heard what happened honey," She whispered, "To Nikolai… I think we should meet baby."

Yurio froze, swallowing back the sob in his throat at the mention of his grandpa's name. It really should have been you. You should be dead. Yurio ran a shaky hand through his hair. He wanted to cry. Hell, he wanted to scream. He wanted to die. He felt like his world was closing in on him, eating him alive and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He sat motionless for a while, listening to his mother's soft sobs on the other end of the phone. Guilt washed over him as Yurio let out a long sigh, "When?"

His mother sniffed loudly, "What honey?"

Yurio winced as he pushed himself off the cold ice, "When- when do you want to meet?"

"How about… Friday. Is that good honey?" his mother asked softly.

Yurio bit his lip as he bent down to pick up his skates and headphones, pain pulsing through his ankle sharply, "Yeah. Fine."

He sniffed as he walked over to the edge of the rink, throwing the skates in his bag, scrubbing at the silent tears that painted his cheeks. He closed his eyes as he stood there, listening to his mother's voice. God, it hurt to hear her soft voice. It hurt so fucking much. And yet he had missed it. He had missed her. He had missed her for a long time.

"Alright honey, I'll see you Friday. I'm so excited to see you Yuri," She said. Yurio bit his lips, opening his eyes, squinting as he the fluorescent light burned against his face.

"I'll see you Friday," He whispered. Exhaustion washed over him as all the energy drained from his body. The phone was shaking against his ear.

"I love you baby," She said softly. Yuri closed his eyes again, tears slipping past his long eyelashes. I love you too, he thought. But if you love me, why'd you leave me? Leave me with so much pain.

Yurio nodded, pulling the phone away from his ear gently, pushing end call. He sighed again, opening his eyes, pushing the phone in his back pocket. He shoved his ratty converse on his feet and grabbed his bag carefully, avoiding his injured shoulder. He ran a hand through his hair as he started towards the exit. Friday, he thought, fucking Friday.

….

Viktor sat there, twirling his cold cup of coffee in his hands, watching the brown liquid splash against the side of the cup dangerously. He sighed loudly and turned to look out the window of St. Petersburg Café, watching the rain slide down the window, shielding the commuting public from his view. The door chimed again and Viktor turned towards the sound, smiling vibrantly as Nikolai stepped through, taking his coat and hat off before taking a seat across from Viktor.

"Good Morning Nikolai," Viktor said softly, sliding a cup of coffee towards the elder man. He watched as Nikolai studied the cup's contents before taking a slow sip, setting it back down on the table gingerly. Nikolai ran his hand through his hair, sighing loudly, "Thank you for coming Vitya."

"No problem. I was waiting for Yuuri's plane to get in anyway, so I figured this spot would be nice," Viktor said gently, taking a bite of his mostly eaten croissant.

Nikolai looked around, smiling fondly, "I remember when this place use to be a bakery. They made the best Blinchiki. Milia's, I think it was called. I used to come here when I was a boy. That, of course, was before the war…"

Viktor nodded slowly, letting the old man trail off, lost in reliving the past. He smiled warmly as Nikolai told him the story of how he used to flirt with the baker's daughter, trying to score some free bread, among other things. He laughed softly as Nikolai closed, running his finger along the cup's edge, "I'll never forget the look on her dad's face when he found us, covered in dough and flour. I was never allowed to come back after that, but my friends and I always managed to sneak in somehow. Oh, how I miss those days."

Nikolai sighed loudly, rubbing his hands together and leaning forward, pressing his elbows on the glossy brown table. He cleared his throat, "Anyhow, how are thing's going with you, my boy? How is that fiancé of yours?"

Viktor leaned back in his chair, running a finger over his engagement ring absentmindedly, a goofy smile masking his face. "He's amazing," he started, his eyes watching the small smile break out on Nikolai's wrinkled face, "He went home to help his parents set up for their annual Hot Spring convention. Unfortunately, I was unable to go, Yakov wanted to set up a press conference to introduce the upcoming season…"

Nikolai nodded, stroking the end of his beard, "That's good. I'm glad you are finally happy Vitya. You've come a long way from where you were a few years ago. I'm very proud of you."

Viktor snorted, taking a sip from his stale coffee. Nikolai had always been supportive of him, even when it seemed like no one else was. Yurio was lucky to have him. He set the cup down on the table gently, glancing around at the tiny café. He shivered slightly as the door opened again, letting in the brisk October wind, cooling the warm coffee shop.

He paused briefly as lightning struck outside, wondering if Yuuri's flight would make it back tonight due to the weather. It had been storming the whole week, causing power failure throughout the city, forcing Viktor to maneuver around his apartment via candlelight. This wasn't a huge issue except when Makkachin had tried eating several candle flames.

Viktor ran another hand through his hair and leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table softly. "I must say Nikolai," he said, "I was quite surprised you called. We haven't gotten together for years."

Nikolai nodded, sighing softly, "I'm afraid I called with intentions, my boy. There are matters I need to discuss with you and I'm afraid I don't have much time."

Confusion etched across Viktor's face, "What does that mean?"

Viktor jerked awake, cold sweat plastered to his face as he thrashed about, pushing the blanket that covered him to the floor. He bolted up, gripping the edge of the couch as he tried catching his breath. He ran a shaky hand through his hair as he looked around the tiny dark apartment. He had been waiting for Yurio to return from the rink, and after flipping through several television channels, he must have fallen asleep.

Viktor let out a loud sigh as he sat up straighter, touching his feet to the cold wooden floor. He grabbed his phone, clicking the screen to see the small digital numbers glaring at him. 23:43p. Viktor ran another hand through his hair and stood slowly, picking the blanket off the ground. He looked up as the door clicked open and watched as Yurio stepped through quietly.

"Where have you been?" He questioned as Yurio glanced in his direction before kicking his shoes off harshly. The teenager stood motionless, setting is bag on the ground gently before turning to face Viktor. He felt a shiver run down his spine as his eyes connected with Viktor's, worry and concern masking the older Russians tired features.

"Nowhere," the teenager spat, unzipping his jacket, wincing slightly as pain enveloped his shoulder. He took a step forward, faltering slightly as his ankle protested the harsh movement, catching himself against the small table next to the door. He threw his keys in the bowl, pretending to lean against it for a second. His phone buzzed again and Yurio grit his teeth.

"Nowhere?" Viktor stated flatly, "Yuuri said you went to the rink. He said you seemed upset. What happened?"

Yurio shook his head and turned to glare at Viktor. The older man crossed his arms, a serious expression painted across his face as he arched an eyebrow slowly. There was no way in hell Yurio was going to confide in Viktor, let alone in the middle of the night. He can't fix anything. He can't fix you. You're broken. You're broken, beyond repair.

"I'm tired,"' Yurio said. He dropped his gaze towards Makkachin, smiling faintly as the big dog tried to curl up in his tiny bag. He snorted softly, and flexed his ankle gently, walking towards his room, walking past the older Russian. His right shoulder was beginning to ache again, and despite smelling like sweat and wanting to take a shower, Yurio wanted to crawl into bed and forget everything, if at least for a few hours. He wanted it to stop. He wanted everything to stop. He he felt a warm hand grasp his wrist gently, and he turned to face Viktor.

"Yura," Viktor whispered sternly, "What's going on?"

Yurio felt his body freeze. He felt his breathing catch in his throat as Nikolai's voice echoed in his head...

"Yurochka! What's going on?" His grandfather asked softly, pushing some blonde hair away from his grandson's face gently. Yurio looked away, tears spilling down his cheeks slowly as he took a deep breath. Chills washed down his spine as his eyes connected with his grandfather's, and Yurio flinched as anger washed over Nikolai's features. The teenager closed his eyes as his Nikolai's thumb brushed against the small cut present on his grandson's cheek…

"Yuri?" Viktor asked softly, taking a step closer. Yurio ripped his hand out of Viktor's grasp, smacking away the older Russian's fingers as Viktor tried grabbing his arm once more. "Just leave me alone, da!" Yurio spat harshly, pushing away from Viktor's reach. He bit his bottom lip as his phone vibrated again and Yurio backed into his room, slamming the door behind him. He winced slightly, hearing something fall in the other room, and bit his lip as Yuuri's startled voice filled the tiny hallway, asking Viktor questions. You woke him up. Good going.

The teenager stood there for a few minutes, waiting for the voices to die down, waiting for Viktor to knock on his door… hoping Viktor would knock on his door. He sighed loudly as silence filled the hallway and walked towards his messy bed, sitting on the edge. He slid his jacket off slowly, pulling his blue shirt over his head, wincing as his shoulder protested the simple movement. He turned on the bedside lamp and looked over at the exposed flesh.

Deep green and purple painted most of his right shoulder, spreading down towards his elbow. It looked worse than it had earlier, and Yurio inhaled sharply as he pressed along the bone in his shoulder, making sure nothing was dislocated or broken. He slid his sock off once more, probing the swollen ankle, pressing against the bruises, before leaning back against the cheetah pillow behind him. He glanced around the dimly lit room trying to make out Potya… no luck. She was probably under the bed, or Yuuri and Viktor's room. Yurio sighed again and pulled his phone from his pocket.

He groaned loudly, seeing he had 27 messages, 4 missed calls, and 260 notifications. He threw his phone across the bed, deciding it was better to deal with it in the morning. He shifted till he was lying on his back, staring at the mini multi-colored Chinese lanterns hanging above his bed.

Yuuri and Viktor had gotten them for him after complaining about the closet light Yurio kept turning on in the middle of the night. The teenager had tried to convince them that he forgot to turn it off… but truthfully, he was scared of the dark. It was childish, he knew, but bad things happened in the dark. Monsters crawled out of the darkness… and Yurio had a lot of monsters. A soft smile crossed his face as he continued to stare at the lights. He told Yuuri he hated them and threatened to take them down almost every night, but honestly, he thought never would. He'd never seen mini lantern lights and he thought they were cool, he loved them. It made the small spare room feel like his.

The Russian Punk's eyes grew heavy as his body fought the oncoming exhaustion and pain flowing through his body. He let the familiar colorful lights blur together, slipping from his sight as an unfamiliar darkness took over, painting his vision black as he closed his eyes.