So We’re Doing This?

There are several notable types of nightmares. Sometimes they are short and only slightly unsettling, coming to a sharp and sudden halt upon awakening. Those ones are pretty forgettable, they leave no real lasting impact on their unwilling creator.

Some are like a mini horror movie where the dreamer is desperately trying to get away from something or another, only to wake up with a little burst of adrenaline. Easily pushed aside, these dreams are disconcerting but bearable.

The most unpleasant kind, however, are not so easily trivialized. These types of dreams feel endless. Something terrible has happened, settling a deep seated dread deep within your very being, and oh, if only it were just a dream, but then you awake and that's exactly the case.

Blinking away the night's sleep and stretching doesn't work to properly erase these nightmares, it only slows their progress. For hours and even days afterward, the afflicted's pupils are shaky and mind even more so. There's an uncomfortable sense of distrust and unease that paints the world in the weeks that proceed a dream which claws its way into the real world.

Yuuri referred to that genre of nightmare as a 'twaddle' due to their nonsensical ability to touch upon reality. The night before the free skate, he was unfortunate enough to have been graced with a twaddle of magnum consequence.

It started off simple enough, with Yuuri skating figures as he often did when stressed. There were specks of ice dotting the air from his blade's steady, fluid movements, rhythmically tracing the same path on repeat. The lights were dim, allowing the sun's gentle light to filter through the broad windows lining the rink's exterior.

Jarring Yuuri from his meditative trance, an announcer's voice was broadcast over the Ice Castle's loudspeakers.

A song he was hardly familiar with began playing. It was some late 2000's pop tune, what was it called again? That's right, 1901… but why was it playing? Why were cheers of his name and claps keeping up with the rhythm?

Were these unwelcome intruders expecting Yuuri to perform to a song he could hardly remember? Why were all of these people at his childhood rink? It was supposed to be a safe space, like Minako's ballet studio.

Why were they trying to take this away from him? Hadn't they taken enough?

Yuuri's breaths became labored as he tried to form a game plan. Was he capable of creating a program on the spot? Improv was his worst nightmare. He was the kind of person who practiced things to perfection, bordering on neurotic, otherwise the concern of crippling failure overtook each sway and step.

He couldn't do this. Not there, and not to that song, and not in front of those expectant faces. Were his parents somewhere in that crowd? Were Yuuko and Takeshi watching with Minako?

Yuuri gagged and keeled over onto the ice, vision spotty and eyes locked into a dissociative trance. There goes his chance for the finals. The finals…?

The teen awoke with a wet gasp. Leaking a disgusting amount of sweat from every pore, Yuuri blinked into the dark room. It was extra disorienting due to the fact that when he had originally drifted off, it was still light outside.

Just as Yuuri had feared, he woke up in the early hours of the morning. Five AM, to be exact, and he was now far too jittery from the twaddle to even consider another attempt at rest.

Phichit was still fast asleep, letting out short little bursts of air every ten seconds or so, therefore Yuuri knew was on his own until 8 am when the Thai skater's alarms went off. Nobody tried to wake Peach up, even Ciao Ciao knew better. Anyone who dared attempt it wasn't getting off without a Thai laden, sleep slurred lecture.

The restless energy wasn't fading, so after slipping on a thin hoodie and a pair of leggings, Yuuri made his way to the hotel's humble gym.

Although he was typically barred from intense workouts during competitions, Ciao Ciao having caught him overdoing it one too many times for comfort, Yuuri felt it was early enough to get away with a sneaky run on one of the facility's few treadmills.

Tip toeing through the long hallway like the true dancer he was, the teen gently pressed the plastic keycard against the gym's automated lock, stepping in after he heard the familiar mechanical click.

The lights were already on, and the sound of a running treadmill and an accompanying pair of feet echoed off the walls of the small room. God, who would willingly be awake and working out at this hour?

Yuuri flicked a subtle glance towards the rows of machinery and caught sight of a familiar lithe form.

"Chris?"

The Swiss skater cast a glance towards the younger man, first looking a bit startled, but after recognizing the newcomer as a familiar face, a smile swam its way across his lips and a small glimmer appeared to alight in both of eyes, small crinkles forming at their corners.

"Yuuri! What are you doing awake?"

Yuuri returned a small, shy grin and set the gym bag he had tucked under his shoulder next the the treadmill on Chris's left before responding "Just trying to burn off some of the nerves. I have a lot to prove today, yknow? I mean, not that I think I- well…"

The blonde simply choked out a feigned scoff upon hearing Yuuri's nervous rambling.

"I'll be honest, I am a little intimidated, but I'm always up for a challenge. You and I have to keep Viktor on his toes, it seems."

Yuuri nodded attentively, trying to look equal parts agreeable and confident. Wait, was Chris insinuating that Yuuri actually stood a chance against Viktor? Consider him stumped because that was most definitely not in the cards, though it was sweet that Chris believed in him.

Of course the goal was gold, but that was because if he didn't give it his "gold" effort, he'd likely end up in last place. God help him if he manages to podium because that sort of spotlight would feel just as horrifying as it would exhilarating.

Yuuri bent down to tie his shoes in a double knot, not wanting to interrupt his workout if they came undone (as they so often did… he was horrible at tying laces. Call it his one true character flaw).

He pressed the green 'On' button and turned the miniature built-in fans to their max. He'd rather die than look like a sweaty mess in front of such a talented (and handsome!) competitor. Before officially starting his morning workout, Yuuri checked his phone for any messages, felt instant relief that there were none of any importance, and then turned the resistance up to 6.5 before entering into a comfortable jog.

Yuuri honestly hated running, but at the same time it was an addiction. The machine was able to track the miles to a pinpointed precision, showing him exactly how well he was doing which always left him with a sense of accomplishment.

He was able to slip into a trance of sorts when on the treadmill. Songs came and went, first Leni (crystal castles), little talks, and so on and so forth. At some point Chris stopped his interval training and sat on a bench press machine adjacent to Yuuri, playing with his phone while stretching out his legs.

It was only when the Swiss skater tapped Yuuri on the shoulder wearing an expression mixed with concern and awe that the teen finally noticed how hard he was panting. Checking his mileage, Yuuri saw that he had managed 8.5 miles in about an hour and a half.

Ciao Ciao would slit his throat on the spot if he found out and that thought alone had Yuuri checking the time and flipping the 'off' switch. Chris cleared his throat with a polite smile before handing Yuuri a clean sweat rag from the nondescript bin hidden under the cleaning station.

"Would you like to get some breakfast?"

Yuuri thought about it for a second, internally analyzing his budding friendship with the other man. Chris seemed to be pretty low maintenance when it came to interaction, so maybe a little more time together wouldn't hurt. The more time Yuuri spent alone, the more likely he was to overthink, after all.

"Yeah, that sounds good… hotel brekkie or that cafe the next block over?"

Chris perked up at the mention of a cafe, so Yuuri gave a knowing nod and packed up his water bottle and earbuds before holding the door open in wait.

"Oh such a gentleman, you!" Chris teased.

"God, don't let Phichit hear you say that. He'll give you an 8 page list of reasons I'm exactly the opposite."

The two continually bantered, all in good fun, as they made their way to the tiny local cafe near the Hilton. Once they entered the twin doors, the smell of fresh bread and hot coffee filled the stale air, leaving Yuuri salivating and Chris not much better off.

There was a short line but it was no real hindrance. Before he could blink, the two of them reached the front and were met with a cheery, chubby cheeked redheaded girl, probably around Yuuri's age.

"What can I get you two today?" She asked.

Chris turned to face Yuuri, urging him to go on ahead. Yuuri would kill for some carbs, possibly a croissant. Just before he opened his mouth to order, he remembered Viktor's interview the night prior and internally slapped himself on the wrist.

Bending over to the refrigerated display case, Yuuri grabbed a clear cylindrical container which housed two small boiled eggs, then promptly set them on the counter.

"Could I just get these and a large black coffee, please? Actually, could I also get a lemon water with that? Thank you."

The cashier nodded and typed a few of her fancy little keys before flicking her eyes toward Chris.

" Hello! Can I have a Gouda breakfast sandwich and a…"

Chris paused a moment to survey the frozen drinks menu before continuing " A medium mocha frappe!"

She typed Chris's order in and stood there a bit awkwardly, obviously having a bit of technical trouble. A look of relief washed across her face and she announced the total, eyes flicking between the two men as if asking "So which one of you is paying?"

Yuuri quickly shoved his hand into the side pocket of his leggings, flipping the old denim wallet he'd had for years open and sliding out a crumpled twenty. Chris was quick to protest, pushing a card towards the chip reading machine, but Yuuri managed to get there first, slipping the bill across the counter.

The cashier giggled, handing them their items. That was expedient… Starbucks usually takes ten minutes to get orders pushed out. Yuuri smiled politely in thanks and grabbed his food and drink, sending a mischievous glance over his shoulder towards an exasperated Chris as he did the same.

They sat down at a quaint wooden table bordering the slippery clean glass window paneling near the front of the cafe. Chris went to town on his sandwich while Yuuri plucked the yolks from his eggs and placed them back into the clear container from whence they came, eating only the flubbery white flesh.

For being as pretty a man as he was, Chris's eating habits were borderline unsettling at best, nauseating at worst. Sparing no time in the actual eating part, the older skater's face was left covered in small bits of egg and cheese, the flecks sticking to his modest beard.

Yuuri couldn't help it. He laughed like a little kid, surprised by Chris's unexpected lack of poise. If the fans knew their 'sex on ice' king was such a child when it came to food, they'd probably lose it.

"Chris. You've got some, like-"

Yuuri cut himself off with another fit of giggles upon making awkward eye contact with the other skater, which in turn caused the blonde to check his complexion using the front facing camera of his iPhone.

Then they were both laughing, red faced and doubled over the table like unruly teenagers who had just smoked their first joint. It was a moment that Yuuri would not soon forget, as it marked the beginning of a bond he would come to appreciate wholeheartedly.

After their breakfast escapade the two went their separate ways, returning back to the hotel at around 8:30 am. Ciao Ciao texted Yuuri, asking him where he had gone off to.

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Celestino: Yuuri, what's with the disappearing act? You placed first yesterday, you'll be the first skater on the ice.

Yuuri: Now why would you say that, I'm gonna have a stroke :(( skater down !

Celestino: Sì, sì. You'll be fine. Seriously though, where were you kiddo? Phichit and I were worried once we realized you weren't there this morning.

Celestino: I figured you just needed a moment to breathe but you didn't even send us a text. Are you at the hotel?

Yuuri: I'm sorry, Chris and I were getting brekkie.

Yuuri: Chris as in Christoph Giocommetti. (Ok but how cool is that?!)

Celestino: What is a brekkie?

Yuuri: lol… breakfast, coach.

Celestino: Okay. Why did you go with that Christoph boy? I don't trust him… you've heard the rumors. He'll get you into trouble if you don't watch yourself.

Yuuri: It's fine, Ciao Ciao, promise. He's been really nice! :)) We just ran into each other at the gym this morning. You know how the press likes to spin things.

Celestino: Why were you at the gym?

Yuuri: oops…

Celestino: You're going to be the death of me, kid. Meet us in the lobby, we are about to head out.

Yuuri: Roger that.

Yuuri did an awkward little jog through the revolving glass doors of the hotel and perched himself up on a set of dusty stairs near the reception desk in order to catch a glimpse of where Phichit and Celestino were hidden away.

He seemed to be able to find nearly everyone but who he was actually looking for. After a few minutes of scanning the room he was able to momentarily survey the sight of a familiar head of air curled chestnut hair, tastefully tied up into a high ponytail, where it would likely remain until every last strand had grayed and withered. Celestino was so 80's chic.

Sparing no time, the teen hopped down off the ledge and squeezed himself past the people crowding the lobby, ducking and rotating as he tried to make himself as small as possible.

"Celestino! I need to grab a phone charger, but then I'll be good to go!"

Before the coach could respond to Yuuri's request, Peach proudly pulled a little turquoise box from the bag resting on his shoulder.

"Already ahead of you, Yuuri. I've got the portable charger and three different adapter cords. I know how spacey you get."

Yuuri leaned forward and gave his best friend a side hug, resting his weight on him for a moment before pulling away and mumbling an affection warmed 'thank you'. They weren't running late, but time was tight if he wanted to make it to the arena in time for the allotted 6 minutes of warm up.

The trio scrambled out of the hotel and into Ciao Ciao's van, Yuuri taking shotgun and Peach sitting in the middle of the backseat. Phichit does so on most competition days because it allows him to rest between the other two men and feel more included in their conversations.

Next year, when he begins competing in the senior division, Phichit will find a way to escape bitch seat in the back and sit his happy ass squarely in the front seat. For now, he'd have to accept the hand he was dealt.

"Yuuri… have you seen Twitter?"

Yuuri turned his head around, pivoting on an angle so he could stay buckled while acknowledging his friend's inquiry.

"Um, I checked it for like ten minutes before bed last night."

Phichit blanched, turning unusually pale. Yuuri had avoided bringing up Viktor's interview. It was embarrassing, above all else. He knew better than to be properly offended over some polite advice, so instead of any anger or competitive spite, Yuuri felt small and humiliated.

"Peach, it's fine."

The Thai skater cast a skeptical look, able to read through the practiced calm expression Yuuri was trying so hard to maintain. Neither of them were stupid, it was obvious that a statement such as the one Viktor had made would be hurtful to anyone, especially his biggest fan.

With a sigh, Yuuri thought up a response, choking out "Look… I appreciate you caring about me. It means a lot that you give a shit. I'm serious."

Pausing for a moment to find his words, Yuuri continued

"Viktor noticed me. He complimented my skating and gave me some friendly advice. What's the point in getting butthurt over it? I'm almost an adult. I have to learn how to handle this kind of criticism."

"Yuuri, he called you a piglet. In what world is that 'respectful'?" Phichit countered.

Yuuri grimaced. "He.. What? Is that what the Russian was…? I… shit. It's fine. I'm fine. Let's drop it, ok?"

Phichit was ready to continue the argument, fiercely protective of his friend, but Yuuri turned his torso so that he was facing forward and looking away from the younger skater. After a few beats, Yuuri found himself pulling his phone out as discreetly as possible and opening Twitter to check the damage for himself.

Before he had a chance to glance at his feed, a swift hand plucked his phone from his sweaty palms. Glancing upwards, pissed at whoever the culprit may be, Yuuri's attitude quickly diminished once he caught Celestino's hardened glare.

"No, you're not going to sabotage yourself. Focus on the free skate. Screw the Russian what's-his-face, just go through your mental preparation exercises."

Yuuri choked back a crude remark, turning away and rolling his eyes. Celestino knew Viktor's name, he didn't need to pretend that the situation was less embarrassing than it actually was. It was a shitty scenario with shitty timing and ignoring it, no, downplaying what had happened wasn't going to fix anything.

The teen knew he was being petulant and childish, but c'mon. He was under a lot of stress, who wouldn't act out a little? Before he could freak out any further, the car came to a stop at the pay-to-park counter. Celestino flashed his coaching pass and nodded to his student.

They were allowed in, free of charge of course. They weren't so lucky in regards to parking, unfortunately. The early bird gets the worm, and all that. They were far from early, bordering on late after the unexpected traffic that had the highways stacked with cars.

Feeling the nerves building like bundles of fibers pulled taught, Yuuri held a hand outstretched towards Celestino while putting on his best 'I can do no wrong' pout. Skeptical but understanding of his skater's needs, he placed Yuuri's phone into the boy's trembling hand.

They got into the venue with minimal setbacks just in time for him to participate in the warm up. Yuuri was relieved but a little bummed that he had to remove his earbuds so early on. He'd put them back in after his skate. Celestino must have sensed his hesitance, the sneaky bastard that he was.

"No quads in warmup today."

Yuuri gawked. He needed to be prepared. This program held a lot of meaning for him, he couldn't risk screwing up. Each jump, step sequence, and spin had to be perfect if he wanted a chance at podiuming.

"Yuuri, listen to me. You pay me to give you guidance. Don't waste hard earned money with that stubbornness of yours."

Knowing better than to argue, he not-so-gently pushed his skate guards into his coach's open palm and slid out onto the ice, simply marking his jumps, even the triples. If Ciao Ciao wasn't going to let him work on his quads, why should he exert the effort for triples? It was wasted energy.

A voice over the loudspeakers let the men on the ice know that warm up time was ending. The varying faces took turns exiting the rink. The day of reckoning was upon him. How dubious, Yuuri cackled to himself.

Oh no, it was far too early for the hysterics to start. As Yuuri's turn to exit came along, he noticed a small pothole in the ice near the open area's border. That would spell trouble for more than one athlete if the Zamboni didn't take proper care of it-

His thoughts were cut off as an unwarranted source of warmth pressed against his chest. Casting a glance in front of him, where he should have been looking in the first place, a familiar form took the boy's breath away.

There, in a red and white 'team Russia' jacket was a man a few inches taller than him. Not just any man, Yuuri wasn't that lucky, but a man with long, flowing, silver hair tied up into a tight ponytail, accented by his impossibly clear skin.

Actually, up close like this, a few faint freckles dotting the bridge of the skater's nose and soft curves of his cheeks could be seen, illuminated under the fluorescent lighting which scattered down from the fixtures above. Was that a scar in his hairline?

Five seconds passed before Yuuri caught himself, cheeks flushing in mortification. He hadn't even apologized yet! For shame, he mentally scolded himself.

"I'm, like…I was looking at the hole… I should have been paying attention, I know, I'm sorry, I'll- wait, you can go first. Sorry. I'm sorry." Yuuri teetered off with a nervous chuckle, not daring to meet Viktor's gaze.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're prone to rambling? It's fine, no big deal, really."

Well that wasn't the response he'd expected. Sweet, talkative Viktor, the same one who was known for throwing adoring fans' winks and responding to as many tweets as was humanly possible had just brushed Yuuri off…albeit quietly. He had used that same sweet tone that was ever present in his many redoreded press interviews, but the smile on his face didn't reach his eyes.

Yuuri gave a slight bow and stepped backwards, allowing Viktor to exit first.

On Yuuri's bad days he could come across as curt and distant, especially with competition level expectations looming over his head. Apparently Viktor wasn't immune to the pressure either, otherwise he wouldn't have come across so coldly. The younger skater understood and accepted the interaction for what it was, two competitors under too much stress.

After exiting the ice and checking the time, Yuuri slid his earbuds in and used his last half out of time remaining to check Twitter. He'd be fine… being out of the loop wasn't helping his nerves anyways.

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@Lifelovelemonade

Caught a picture on the Las Vegas strip last night!! Lookie there… Viktor likes to live it up before events, I guess lol. Maybe it helps with nerves? He looks HOT tho 😭 pick ME!! choose ME!!

A picture of Viktor, white button up half undone, holding a half empty bottle of vodka, arms around the waist of a pretty blonde in heels and a pink maxi dress

11:02 am• 10/19/19 • 10,716 views

128 Retweets 1.5k Likes 79 Bookmarks

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Maybe his date night had gone horribly awry, interrupted by demanding fans. Maybe that's why he's in such a bad mood, Yuuri mused to himself, biting his lip to suppress a small smile. The original poster wasn't wrong though, Viktor looked very suave in his dressed down state.

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@Sxdrgsroknroll

@lifelovelemonade holy shit holy shit holy shit I'm drooling all over my phone rn. Did u see the Tiktok he posted last night bro? He looked SMASHED. I doubt he even remembers posting it Lmao. And he's STILL gonna kill it on the ice today. The man the myth the legenddddd or whateva

11:09 am• 10/19/19 • 1,453 views

3 Retweets 122 Likes 0 Bookmarks

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Yuuri had to actively fight the urge to open tiktok that very second. It would be too embarrassing to live with if he got caught watching one of Viktor's videos right before he went out on the ice for his free skate. Instead, he scrolled further, secretly hoping someone had reposted the aforementioned TikTok on one of the various Nikiforov fan pages he was following.

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@Mafuririku

@yuurikatsuki 頑張って 勝生選手!10歳からファンだよ,ですからワクワクしている. 遠くからですがあなたのことを応援しています!

11:19 am• 10/19/19 • 892 views

2 Retweets 103 Likes 1 Bookmarks

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@donttrustmee

Can everyone shut up about the Yuri vs Viktor thing??? Literally no one cares abt sum random ass no name skater who got lucky. Like… chill.

11:21 am• 10/19/19 • 231 views

0 Retweets 8 Likes 0 Bookmarks

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@Yuurikatsuki

@donttrustmee You spelled my name wrong. ;((.

11:23 am• 10/19/19 • 3,452 views

21 Retweets 832 Likes 32 Bookmarks

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@donttrustmee

@yuurikatsuki oh my god wait ,,, no way 😭 The one time a celebrity notices me, I'm talking shit. Fuck.

11:25 am• 10/19/19 • 121 views

0 Retweets 3 Likes 0 Bookmarks

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After sending off his heated and spite fueled response, Yuuri felt more ready than he had felt all day. He only had 5 minutes to go before his name was to be called. The nerves were mixing with anticipation, blood rushing to his head in an almost pleasant rush.

Yuuri was still willing to get run over by a truck if it meant he could turn around and go home instead of being ridiculed by a crowd if he did happen to blow it, but he was ready. Not for the truck thing, for the skating thing. (Maybe the truck, too).

The nervous little taps of his skates accompanied the metaphorical clock's insistent ticking. Bending down one last time to double check his laces, Yuuri stood up as the announcer spoke his name.

"Starting us off today is Yuuri Katsuki of Japan. He ended yesterday's short program in first place, leading Viktor Nikiforov by a roughly three point margin. He will be performing to 'The Room Where It Happens' from Hamilton The American Musical."

Yuuri's choice of music was out of character but entirely fitting for the multitude of feelings that danced underneath his skin. It had been Phichit who had shown him the soundtrack. His roommate was a theater kid, through and through, even performing in his school's fall play if he was able to find the time.

The song spoke to him, to his aspirations. Yuuri wanted to be on the ice with all of the other greats, not as a fan but as an equal. He wanted to be important, to make changes, to make history .

Lightly testing the ice with one skate Yuuri did a subtle once over to make sure the hole he had seen earlier had been filled. Once his fears had been placated, the boy handed his skate guards over to Celestino, and with a slight nod, made his way to the center of the rink, slipping into his starting pose with practiced ease.

The first notes left the overhead speakers, elegantly pairing with the singer's velvet voice the same way a vintage Pinot noir would pair with a block of Gruyère. He glided to the quick succession of staccatoed trumpet notes, motioning with his hands to 'hush' as the vocalist murmured "Talk less… smile more."

It was a solid level 3 step sequence. Yuuri was known for his level fours, but he wanted the beginning of the program to contrast the more fast-paced and emotional second half. Maybe he was taking after his idol a bit, trying to surprise an audience who knew little about what it was that he could offer.

As the song built up to the end of its first spoken section, Yuuri flew into a triple axel once the trumpet section repeated, completing all of the necessary rotations and landing into an outstretched lunge.

On the first "But no one else was in the room where it happened" Yuuri slid into an Ina Bauer, transitioning into another step sequence while bearing a grimace laced with suspicion. He could exude any emotion. This piece was a perfect way to exhibit his acting skills.

He did a little skip into the air, gracefully poised as he held his arms above his head. The silk cravat around his neck pinched a little but he didn't let the momentary ache show in his expression. It would do him no good to ruin the illusion over something so trivial.

The crowd was alight with energy, clapping along to the song's beat as the character in the song lamented upon his power struggles. Yuuri knew what that felt like.

Next was a triple flip-quad toe loop combination. It came and went with ease and Yuuri found himself melting into the character, stress bleeding into the ice like molten lava from a volcano.

His movements became more jagged, angrier as the line "what did they say to you to get you to sell New York City down the river?" Echoed off the walls. Artistic expression wasn't just about quirked eyebrows and well timed grins, emotion had to exude from every limb, every step and spin.

Yuuri moved into the flying camel spin, and then on to a level four step sequence. The clapping grew louder, drawing out his inner attention whore, as he liked to call it. He had to impress, had to make everyone in that room adore him. More spins, more expression, more showmanship, he had it all, didn't he? They'd eat it up out of the palm of his hand, as they should.

Yuuri turned towards the judges, motioning with his arms and dancing upon the ice knowing that the song's climax was almost upon him. This is where it would count most.

"What do you want Burr? If you stand for nothing, Burr, what'll you fall for?"

An upright spin and some twizzles, good. Everything was going perfectly.

"I… wanna be in the room where it happens, the room where it happens…"

He did, he really truly did. From the day that he turned 12 years old and saw Viktor Nikiforov gracing an arena full of enamored fans with his talent, Yuuri knew that he needed that success too. He adored Viktor for his beauty, grace, and confidence, all things that seemed to come so naturally to him, things Yuuri had to sacrifice everything to try and replicate.

He embodied this longing as he built up into a quad lutz. It felt wonderful to fly above the ice, soaring into a jump he couldn't land the season prior. He had so much to prove.

The final chorus and its hearty vocals hit. Yuuri pushed himself to the brink of collapse, fighting hard against the exhaustion creeping its way into his body. One more jump.

The takeoff was smooth, the rotations felt fine… until they didn't. It was as if someone had removed the pair of rose colored glasses Yuuri had metaphorically adorned. A flickering hint of silver hair and half a millisecond of distraction was all it took for the teen to fall out of his quad salchow, landing hard on the ice. It hurt like hell.

Yuuri was entirely used to slips and sprains but the shame of publicly flubbing a jump did a bigger number on him than any bruise or cut could possibly hope to rival. He had to get back up, there was nothing worse than giving up at the foot of the finish line.

The remaining twenty seconds of his program passed in a flurry of blurred shapes and short, panicked breaths. Like that, it was over. Yuuri held his final pose for what felt like an eternity, one arm reaching towards the sky and chest rising and falling at an unhealthy rate.

Yuuri felt tears pricking behind his eyes. This had been his one chance and he ruined it… because what else was he consistent in? If he had trained a little harder, had dieted a little more persistently, would he have nailed that jump? It didn't matter now, it was too late.

Half dead and walking as if it were a fact, Yuuri meandered over to the kiss and cry while Celestino muttered assurances at him. He couldn't hear it, not with the blood pounding in his ears and his own thoughts eating him alive.

Even seeing his score of 189.9 did him no good. Sure, he had beat his own personal best again but it stood no chance when compared to Viktor's world record of 223.6. It was over thirty points lower. The lord only knows that the Russian was aiming to surpass his own record once more.

People came and went, asking questions and hyping the young skater up. None of them mattered to Yuuri. All he could think about was what he could have, should have done more to prepare.

He just wanted to do better. All he had ever wanted was to be something, someone important. Yuuri was so much more than this, he knew it. He had to be special, the same kind of special as Viktor because why else would he put up with this hellish environment and demanding set of expectations?

Tired of deluding himself, Yuuri left the rink. He didn't want to stay and watch. The very idea of it left him sick to his stomach. He couldn't leave because Ciao Ciao had driven them there, but he could sure as hell drown out the world with music and sit outside the arena.

A couple of hours slipped by listlessly, taunting him with their sudden expedience. Both Phichit and his coach had reached out but Yuuri asked them to politely mind their own and leave him be. Only once the final skater had completed their program did Peach wordlessly grab Yuuri by his arm and drag him inside, eyes watering with an emotion Yuuri was unable to identify.

The announcer was rambling on about scores and whatnot, calling skaters names here and there. Yuuri didn't care. He didn't care one bit… until he heard his last name. What was everyone staring at him for? Why was Celestino pushing him into the ice?

"Give a round of applause for Yuuri Katsuki of Japan, taking silver here at Skate America with a score of 296.43!"

Oh, he was suddenly on the podium. How had he gotten there? He couldn't have possibly walked there, he'd remember something like that.

Yuuri wasn't at the top or the bottom, but rather anchored between two familiar faces. He hadn't won gold. His best wasn't enough for gold, but god dammit it was enough for silver.

Katsuki Yuuri had podiumed at his first international seniors event, placing above Christoph Giocommeti who had scored 267.92 and below Viktor Nikiforov who won with a score of 305.28.

None of it made any sense to the shell shocked teen who felt numb to any kind of praise or discouragement as he stood there with a blank expression. Nothing anyone could have said had the capability to ruin that moment for him. The slack jawed shock he was wearing so gracelessly morphed into a wobbly smile.

There were no tears to accompany said smile but they were begging to be let loose. Yuuri denied them that pleasure.

Sucking in a small gasp of the frigid air, Yuuri gazed upon the blonde head of curly locks settled slightly lower than his shoulders. Chris had already been staring, so Yuuri wasn't ashamed that he had been caught doing the same.

"I told you, Mon Cher. Looks like we'll be spending a lot of time together here… make the most of it, ok? You've earned it." The blonde shot off with a wink.

Yuuri nodded, cheeks still flushed and heart still numb. Viktor's presence weighed heavy on the teen's left, raised above him enough for a subtle glance to be an impossible feat. Would it be too ballsy to look with intent? He could give him a polite once-over, right? It wouldn't be weird to survey his competitors.

Before he could act upon the impulse a pale hand shot down to gently shake Chris's shoulder.

"Don't worry Chris, I'm sure you'll get the gold once I retire." Teased Viktor.

That was a new tone, one Yuuri had yet to observe in any available interview. Was it a podium privilege to see the hidden sides of other skaters? Was the little bubble they were in truly capable of hiding such prolific secrets?

Maybe Yuuri had found his way to the room where it happens. Despite his failure to rise to the occasion, Yuuri got a glimpse of the other side, of what it was like to hold a semblance of importance. It hit him like a freight train.

White hot elation coupled with a few sporadic pangs of envy rooted his feet to the floor. It was bordering on euphoric, like the nights where he was a little too manic to sit still, instead opting to sneak into the rink and practice his quads.

Viktor didn't speak or or interfere with Yuuri outside of an obligatory nod, but it could have been worse. The younger skater was happy to be a blip on his radar at this point. Yuuri knew that he would show the world his worth soon enough, and once the competition stress had faded and everyone was gathered at the banquet, maybe he'd even get a chance to congratulate Viktor.

After the medaling ceremony Yuuri and Phichit, who was too young to officially attend the banquet (that did not mean he wouldn't be there, no one could keep Peach away from a party), made their way back to the hotel via Ciao Ciao's beat up four runner. It took more than a little convincing but eventually Yuuri conceded to Phichit's prodding and agreed to attend.

He still had a day and a half to prepare considering the exhibition skate that he was required to perform the next day, but it still felt daunting. He had never gone to one of the celebratory post-competition parties before, mostly because he knew there was no reason to… that and the fact that he was an anxious mess.

Since he had medaled and earned an opportunity to woo some sponsors, Yuuri knew better than to kick up a fuss about attending. If he wanted to skate professionally, he had to earn money. To earn money, he had to do well both on the ice and off, that's all there is to it.

Celestino, Peach and Yuuri went out for a celebratory dinner that night, and for the first time in a year and a half Yuuri felt confident enough in his own skin to post a group photo on Instagram.

It was nothing extraordinary, just a photo of him and his found family. It blended seamlessly with his last photo, posted two years prior. It was a picture of a sixteen year old Yuuri holding a bouquet of white flowers, if you zoomed in enough and tilted your head at just the right angle, you may be able to recognize what kind.

Standing next to him was a young man with bleached blonde hair. He stood a few inches taller than Yuuri, half of his face covered by a surgical mask. The teen was holding a silver button out in front of his chest as Yuuri gazed on fondly, proudly displaying it as if it were a trophy.

If only he could see Yuuri now. Surely he'd have insisted on taking Yuuri out to dinner with their families, taking proud pictures of his medal, fawning over it and spilling words of praise with uncontested abundance. Maybe they wouldn't have argued over who got the last piece of pork belly, too caught up in the happiness of the moment.

As it was, though, Yuuri was grateful for what he had at present.

The next day, as everyone prepared for their exhibition skates, Phichit surprised Yuuri with a bouquet of white lilies. The hidden meaning behind them was not lost on Yuuri, and he was brought to tears by his best friend's kind heart and thoughtful gesture.

Keeping Peach's generosity in mind, Yuuri gave his exhibition piece every bit of life and love that he could, tweaking his final pose a bit to match one of Phichit's own for the season as a show of gratitude. Had it been scored, Yuuri thought, he may have won gold.

With Yuuri's final skate of the event out of the way, there was only one trial left to overcome at Skate America; The Banquet.