Out Of Body

Yuuri had always dreamt of visiting Russia. His naive younger self had come up with countless scenarios where he had risen to the top, surpassing Viktor and earning his unwavering affections.

They'd meet in Moscow and run into each other's arms in a movie-style scene of bliss. Tough luck, because Viktor turned out to be a douche and a half and Yuuri wasn't anywhere near his level on the ice. He could fix the latter half of the issue, but the first matter was entirely out of his control.

When he had first seen his assignments, Yuuri was stoked. He'd get to see Viktor twice, get to scout out his home turf, even! There were so many places to recreate Viktor's Instagram photos, not that Yuuri had actually planned on posting his own iterations of them… but that's besides the point.

After everything that had gone down at the first event of the season, the only emotions he felt upon boarding the plane to Moscow were fear, dread, and anxiety. Viktor had the upper hand here, what sort of cruel trick would he pull out this time? Maybe he didn't even consider Yuuri worth his time.

He was known to be a roaming playboy, after all. Perhaps that sentiment extended to his enemies.

Phichit wasn't by his side this time either, having stayed back in Detroit to take part in his school's fall musical production of 'Carrie'. He had of course offered to join the older skater, but what kind of friend would Yuuri be if he allowed Peach to sacrifice an opportunity to perform a show he had been looking forward to for months?

Yuuri needed to grow up and learn how to handle shit like an adult. No time is greater than the present. He'd still have Ciao Ciao to lean on if worse came to worst, anyways.

The coach and student duo were met with a rowdy group of reporters at the Sheremetyevo airport. They had no concept of personal space, shoving their cameras and microphones into Yuuri's bubble without a second of hesitation.

Figure skating was a prominent sport in Russia, meaning the skaters, Yuuri included, would be hounded and harassed with more intensity than they were used to. Some soaked it in, basking in the influx of attention, but Yuuri felt like a fish out of water.

Luckily, Chris had been assigned to the same event. The more experienced skater would serve as a good buffer between the press and his nervous friend. Yuuri has to count his blessings, as mama would say, though few and far between.

The federation assigned hotel was beyond lavish, surpassing any expectations he had held prior. Who on earth had budgeted this event, and could they take over all of the figure skating event planning? Give that gracious bastard a raise, for Christ's sake, they've earned it.

After sufficiently assessing the room and all of its decorative ornaments, Yuuri was left with nothing to focus on, hands empty but mind overflowing. Before long, fidgeting turned to fighting the urge to gnaw on his glossy fingernails.

He had suffered in order to grow them out long enough to paint. His hands had been unsightly, like that of a stubby fingered toddler. If he let his nerves get to him now, all that effort would go to waste. Why go backwards?

Celestino finished checking the two of them in just as Yuuri was about to give in. Then Chris and company arrived. Yuuri regretted not dressing up as his new and improved persona when he saw the flashy look the Swiss man was rocking that evening.

His pressed white suit and sparkly sequin-plated blue undershirt were perfectly fitted to his body, showing off the curves of his calves and contrasting his tanned skin in all the right ways. He wore a pair of Ray Bans over his eyes, adding to the mystique of his well coordinated fit. Yuuri could see why Minako drooled over him.

Though Chris wasn't really his type, even Yuuri had to acknowledge the man's outpour of sex appeal.

"Bonsoir, Yuuri! Look at you! I hardly recognized you!"

Yuuri gave a sheepish smile, ever horrible at handling compliments. Before he could come up with a sufficient response, Chris bent down to his level, concern overlaying the dazzling smile he wore.

"You aren't doing anything dangerous are you?"

Well what was that mean to imply? Yuuri was borderline offended, but knew the man had only good intentions. The two had been communicating on and off since Skate America, checking in more often over text as The Rostelecom Cup drew nearer. Yuuri had simply lost a little weight and gotten a haircut. Was he really that unsightly beforehand?

"I'm fine, Chris. Just the same old same old. What about you? Dare I say that suit is a little too flamboyant, even for you. Are you trying to make a statement?" Yuuri teased back.

Chris pressed the backside of his palm to his forehead, swaying slightly as he pretended to grow faint. If skating ever fails him, he'd make a damn good stage actor, or even a comedian. His charisma knew no bounds.

"Oh, how ever am I supposed to go on? You've caught me in the act… I'm concealing a horrid hangover behind all of this Versace and silk!"

"Yeah, that tracks."

Chris paused before exploding into a fit of quiet laughter, wrapping an arm around Yuuri's shoulders and rustling his hair affectionately.

"Where did all this sass come from? I love it!"

"I think I've been texting you a little too often. Maybe it's contagious?"

The two bantered as they made their way to the elevator, respective coaches in tow. Hopefully Celestino could see the kind of person Chris truly was, not who the tabloids made him out to be. If the man's relaxed posture was anything to go by, he was finally starting to see the light. Old dogs can learn new tricks, it seems!

Yuuri let Chris take over the conversation. It was easier that way. The older skater wasn't excessively exhausting or anything, but keeping up a consistent, confident, and steady front was taxing, even with the most amicable of people. It was equivalent to acting for a crowd of one, reading from a script of predetermined text that could only be found in his own mind.

However, there was a minor caveat. Yuuri had to assign the right lines to the right moments. It was imperative that he towed the line between witty and attentive. One slip up could cost him years of a future friendship.

"- and I mean, I get it. I'm an Aquarius too, but that doesn't explain why-"

A tug on the sleeve of Yuuri's team Japan jacket interrupted Chris's monologue, cutting through his concentration like a jack knife. Standing just below his sternum was a young boy with messy blonde hair and dewey green eyes. The jacket he wore looked like a knock off American flag, red white and blue, yet there wasn't a star or stripe in sight.

"Mister Katsuki?"

A strong sense of unpleasant deja vu overcame Yuuri. Could Chloe have cast a curse upon him or something? What was it with strangers-… He was wearing his lanyard again. False alarm.

Relieved, he angled himself downward in an attempt to maintain respectful eye contact with the strange boy. The poor kid had probably lost sight of his parents somewhere in the raging sea of athletes and reporters that had overtaken the hotel.

Yuuri knew how scary and disorienting it felt to be separated from his loved ones. His first few weeks in Detroit had been god awful. Time to put on his big boy britches and do for this child what Celestino had done for him not so long ago.

"Hi there. Are you lost?"

Instead of tearing up and affirming Yuuri's suspicions, the tyke shook his head back and forth, brows furrowed in a frustrated scowl. The boy then stood up as straight as he could, rolling his shoulders back stiffly and tilting his head up into the air.

He may have been standing on his tiptoes, too, not that Yuuri held any judgment. Putting up a brave front, huh? No biggie, they'd get down to the bottom of this in-

"No! I'm… I'm a skater!"

Oh, so that's what this was. The kid was scouting out his future competition, how bold! No wonder he moved with such grace and determination. Yuuri envied his courage, though the brash attitude was an obvious facade.

It takes a fake to know a fake, and Yuuri might as well be made of ceramic and plastic at this point. Regardless, the display was endearing, and he could see a prior version of himself in the boy's shaky demeanor. Maybe Yuuri could give him the boost of confidence he sought. God, he was the least qualified person in the building, but it wouldn't kill him to try, right?

Placing a hand upon the boy's unruly mop of hair, Yuuri chuckled out "That much is obvious, silly. You move with a dancer's grace. You've trained in ballet, haven't you?"

"Yes! I train with Madame Lilia Baranovskaya!"

Madame Baranovskaya was Viktor's ballet teacher… they couldn't be… right? He was just being paranoid. He was in Russia, it wasn't that odd to run into another one of her pupils at a competition held in her home country. She was world renowned, after all. Realizing his silence had drawn out, Yuuri banished the thought and returned his full attention to the child.

"Oh, I'm so jealous! My ballet instructor trained beneath the madame for most of her teenage years. She always tells me how wonderful it was to learn from such a natural talent."

As he awaited the next excited response, Yuuri found himself stressing. The elevator would be arriving any second, and Yuuri was still a bit concerned for the child's well being. Where were his parents? It's not like he could just leave him there.

"Can I please get a picture with you? I'm your biggest fan, and one day, when I join seniors, I'll be your biggest rival !"

Yuuri felt his already pink face heating up as he processed the comment. He had a fan in Russia? He had a child who looked up to him the same way he had admired Viktor? It was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.

The power he held was dangerous, if he let his anxiety slip through the cracks or accidentally came off as condescending, he'd break the kids heart the same way Viktor had obliterated his.

"I- uh- with me? You want a picture with me?"

Think it through, Yuuri, he chided to himself as he gathered his bearings. It was possible he had been referring to Chris… that would make sense! He was probably just too shy to make eye contact with his idol, or something.

"Or did you mean Chris-"

Instead of responding, the boy placed his phone in Yuuri's sweaty palm, skipping over to his side and looking up expectantly.

Ok, well he knew what he was supposed to do, but the nerve endings in his brain were short circuiting from shock. The boy's phone was gently removed from his possession, thank god for that.

Already posing, the mystery child angled the phone up above the two, standing on his tiptoes in an attempt to include both of them in the photo. Yuuri bent down just slightly in an act of passive assistance.

A barely audible click sounded as the timer reached three seconds, capturing the two boys in all their nervous glory. Now it was up to Yuuri to locate his guardian. The luggage and elevator would have to wait.

Just as he turned to inquire upon the pressing matter, Yuuri saw the blonde running towards a hooded figure in gray.

"Viktor! Look, I did it!" The child shouted as he ran back towards the stranger, small palm holding his cellphone outstretched in the air as if it were a trophy. Even before the words had time to process, Yuuri knew.

How could he not? Viktor's figure was something that had been burned into the back of his eyes via years of misconstrued envy. He had spent countless hours in front of the living room Tv settled in the kotatsu watching and rewatching every skate the man had ever performed…Of course Yuuri could recognize Viktor by stature alone.

Yuuri felt his pupils dilate, latching onto Viktor's own. The Russian had frozen mid step, looking just as shocked as Yuuri felt. It was like they were sharing a moment alone in a liminal place, a place where time couldn't encroach upon then. Had he sent a child to spy on him?

No, he was letting his mind spiral out of control again. They were probably just rinkmates. The little one must be a fan of Yuuri due to him and Viktor's Public 'rivalry'. It was likely an act of rebellion, or something.

Why else would he exhibit such genuine excitement over one silly picture? It would be jaded to place the blame on the kid, an innocent who was simply stuck in the middle of their unfortunate rivalry.

"Wait!" Yuuri called out. Both Viktor and the child looked up. The blonde noticed the older Russian's movement, and promptly stomped the toe of his boot on Viktor's sneaker clad foot.

"He was talking to me, idiot…" Whispered the boy through gritted teeth. Could they have more in common than Yuuri had first thought?

"You didn't tell me your name." Yuuri endeavored.

"Yuri! Yuri Plisetsky of Russia, and don't you forget it!"

"You're the first person to ask for a photo with me. You couldn't pay me to forget a moment like that. I'll see you on the ice soon, Yuri!"

"Да! Stomp out the old man!" Retorted Yura, gesturing to Viktor's still frozen form with a nod of his head. Yuuri's first instinct was to sputter nervously and deny the very possibility, but that was old Yuuri.

New Yuuri had something to prove, everything to lose. It was time to let that be known, the battle of will was upon him. They had no idea what kind of surprise Yuuri had in store.

"I will."

Yuuri turned back around towards the elevator where his group had remained. Celestino looked stoked to see his student taking a stand, and Chris was mirroring that expression, left hand on his hip and right hand pulling the shades he wore down just enough to peek over the top.

Yuuri was a little confused upon studying the man's reaction. Viktor and Chris were an iconic duo, powerhouse best friends on and off the ice. He's expected a little pushback at the very least.

"Well said, Mon Cher. Give him something to think about."

"Um, to be honest… I thought you'd be mad. Aren't you guys, like, super tight?"

Way to be eloquent, Yuuri… well, maybe it was better to just rip the bandaid off instead of talking in circles.

Chris pursed his lips, eyes far away as if reliving a moment only he could see. It was disconcerting seeing the typically vibrant skater wear a worn down expression, not that Yuuri could blame him. Losing a friend was basically the same as a breakup.

"That's what I thought, too. He was my best friend, at least."

Yuuri knew not to push, so he simply placed a consoling hand on the older skater's shoulder, rubbing small circles until he heard the elevator ding, signaling them to board. The air had turned stale, the vibes solemn.

It felt like they were on their way to a funeral instead of lush suites. Yuuri was unpleasantly surprised at the thoughts that bombarded his busy mind as they rode in silence. He had felt a rush of… satisfaction upon hearing of the two's falling out.

Not empathy, not pity, just a surge of manic energy. It was so unlike him. Yuuri cried during romance movies, sobbed when a character in his novel of the month died. What possessed him to think such manipulative thoughts? Instead of worrying for Chris's well-being, his mind has jumped at the opportunity to take Viktor's place.

Chris, who had treated him and Peach with nothing but the utmost respect and kindness, was not a pawn in whatever game Yuuri and Viktor were playing. He felt sick to his stomach.

An anxiety attack was on the horizon, yet here he was, trapped in an elevator with three other people, two of which had never been subjected to one of Yuuri's fits. They were almost to the fifth floor. He only had to hold out for another two minutes, max.

By the time Yuuri flopped onto his room's bed, every bit of energy in his body had been zapped to null. The shaking was picking up, tremors passing through him in waves causing his top and bottom teeth to chatter against each other in dissonance.

The trigger had been small, but once he began spiraling, that was it. One intrusive thought had now morphed into a cacophony of self destruction. Yuuri would never be as successful as Viktor. No one would ever take him seriously.

He'd have to live out the rest of his life taking care of the inn. He would die a virgin, because, let's be real, who would want to be with someone who buckled under the smallest hint of pressure? He wasn't pretty enough, wasn't handsome enough to make up for his mental shortcomings.

Yuuri wasn't as thin, and would never be as thin as the other skaters since he binged like a little piggy, as Viktor had referred to him, as soon as stress came knocking. His lack of self control was disgusting. Sure, he'd managed to drop a little weight, but how long could he hold out before he screwed it all up again? No, he couldn't lose control again.

He had no choice but to keep going. Maybe, if he truly pushed himself past his limits, he could make up for what he lacked facially with a body sculpted to perfection. What would it take to get there?

It was hard enough sticking to 1300 calories a day while keeping up with his rigorous training schedule and college workload. The brain fog was immense and overpowering… but he wanted it so badly, to see the ideal version of himself. Everyone else deserved to see it, too.

No one would love him in any sense if he didn't get it together and carve his misshapen body into something beautiful. That's right, he could fix this! All he had to do was try harder. Lots of people fasted for days on end, it's not like knocking another 600 calories from his daily diet could kill him.

He'd have to be thin for it to be dangerous. When he got skinny, he'd stop, simple as that. Hope wasn't lost, because Yuuri had control, and as long as he kept it, carefully maintained what he had worked for, things would go his way. Beautiful people always got their way. Viktor was the prime example of that fact.

The boy managed to catch his breath, tremors steadily declining into small twitches. He was proud to have calmed himself down without medication.

This new Yuuri was becoming more and more beneficial, not just for his outside interactions, but in the privacy of his own company as well. It felt like having a reassuring hand on his shoulder at all times, someone to guide him through the solitary moments when the worst parts of himself leaked past the tight blockade Yuuri worked tirelessly to maintain.

Suddenly invigorated, he slipped on a pair of black running shoes, not bothering to change his clothing. He ran a total of nine miles that night, taking in the smell of mulled wine and baked bread as he passed by the vendors situated on street corners throughout the city. The entire experience was oddly ethereal, therapeutic in a sense.

Something was a little off, for Yuuri to be this happy before a competition, but he wasn't complaining. He'd put the feelings to good use in his short program the following day.

Except, by the next morning, whatever it was had faded, snuffed out by the night's rest. How ironic, thought Yuuri as he made his way into the morning's assembly to draw his performance placement. Rest was supposed to improve one's performance, but here he was, far worse off having caught some Z's for once.

When the time came to pick a piece of paper out of the little black box, Yuuri was lucky enough to be right in the middle, gratefully situated in the third position, going after Chris who had drawn first, but before Viktor, who had drawn 6th.

Afterwards, Celestino had invited Chris and his coach to a little brunch gathering held by several of the more influential athletes present, Viktor and Yakov included. Ciao Ciao assured Yuuri that it would be fine if he were to sit this one out, but the boy felt that it would be admitting defeat, and that was the last thing he should be doing.

Yuuri was surprised to see a familiar face within the Russian group when they arrived. Little Yuri was standing with his arms crossed over his chest, looking like he'd prefer to be anywhere else. Chris was by Yuuri's side, but it was clear he felt uncomfortable being in close proximity to Viktor. Yuuri chewed on the inside of his cheek, pursing his lips as he fought back more selfish thoughts and ideals.

This would be the perfect chance for the two to reconcile… but where would that leave him? What if Viktor convinced the Swede that Yuuri was the one to blame, then Yuuri would be on his lonesome again, at least until Peach joined the senior division.

It was a chance he'd have to take. Poor Chris looked like a kicked puppy. What kind of friend would Yuuri be if he didn't at least try and help? Softly sighing, the brunette reached out and tapped Chris's shoulder, signaling him to crouch a little so Yuuri could discreetly whisper into his ear.

"Go talk to him. You want to, right?"

"I… He treated you like shit. Why are you encouraging me to reconcile our friendship?"

Great question, Chris, Yuuri internally chided. He must be a masochist or something, but it felt wrong not to help the older skater. He had done so much for Yuuri, it was time to return that favor.

"You should see yourself. You're obviously miserable. Yeah, he hates me, I don't know why, but that doesn't mean he feels the same way about you. I won't hold it against you, okay?"

Chris looked at Yuuri with an awestruck wonder in his eye. God, you'd think he'd handed the man the keys to a new car.

"Go on, I'll sit with Ciao Ciao."

With one last glance over his shoulder at Yuuri, the blonde gave a grateful grin and sheepishly made his way to Viktor's little group. Already regretting his decision, Yuuri stood there awkwardly as he waited to be sat at the table by a member of staff.

It took a few minutes for someone to come by and lead the group of athletes and coaches to a table, and in that time Yuuri had only grown even more anxious. The red plush chairs of the diner were giving him a migraine. The fluorescent lights weren't doing much to help, either.

Assessing the layout of the table, Yuuri picked a chair on the far right, as distant from Viktor as could be. His coach sat to his left, and to his right was a red headed girl who's name he couldn't place.

She made eye contact with him for a moment, sending him a sly wink. She must know of him, and that left the boy feeling even more uncomfortable. Yuuri needed to do his research and learn some names, otherwise he'd come off as an uncaring asshole. He nodded at her, smiling warmly in feigned recognition.

"Katya! Trade me, please? I'll clean your skates for a whole week! I swear!"

Yuuri wasn't at all surprised to hear the familiar voice echoing from across the table, but the concept of the seat at his side being a coveted item was definitely unexpected. Yura was already making his way toward Katya, as Yuuri now knew her, and himself. The redhead clicked her tongue, turning her nose up at the boy's request.

"Just a week? This is prime real estate, Yuratchka. I'm gonna need a little more from you than that. Make it three, and you've got a deal."

The blonde didn't even take a second to think on it, nodding his head excitedly and ushering Katya from her seat and taking her place at Yuuri's side. Before she made her exit, the woman placed a light kiss on the Japanese skater's cheek.

"Kick ass out there today, kid. I know you've got it in you." With that, she made her way to Yakov's side, leaving Yuuri red faced and shocked. He was almost a grown man for Christ's sake!

A little peck shouldn't get him this worked up. That had been his first kiss, technically, though it was just on the cheek. Yuuri needed to get that figured out too, once he turned 18. Tinder or Hinge should be a quick fix, right? Then he wouldn't have to feel so insecure about his lack of experience.

"Are you doing that prince song again? The record breaking one? Will you sign my skates? What made you decide to be a skater?"

Yura's rapid fire questions sufficiently knocked Yuuri from his spell, instead forcing him to think quickly so he could respond in turn.

"Yes, was it record breaking? I didn't beat Viktor's high score. I'd love to sign your skates, but maybe choose an older pair so I don't ruin your fresh ones… and I was a fan of the sport as a little boy, so it was only natural for me to join the lineup once I came of age."

"Did you have a favorite?"

Yuuri's first instinct was to lie, to declare his own coach was who had inspired him to take to the ice, but Yuri's precious face inspired an honesty in him. How could he deceive someone who looked up to him? It would be cruel to take advantage of the child's naivety. Yuuri steeled himself, beckoning Yura to come a little closer with a small wave of his hand.

"You promise not to tell anyone? It's pretty out there…"

The boy's jade eyes gleamed as he mumbled a soft "Да".

"Viktor was always my favorite skater to watch as a kid. I memorized all of his skates and everything. Practicing his routines day in and day out is what pushed me to learn quads."

"All Katsuki fans know that you love Viktor. It's, like, common knowledge."

Well that was news to Yuuri. Sure, his fellow skaters knew of the way he adored the Russian, but had word really spread from their small community and into the fan base? Before he could think of censoring himself in front of his tiny friend, Yuuri choked out "Oh my god… I'm so embarrassed I could just curl up under a rock and die!"

"I don't blame you. I was always curious as to why you chose the old man over, say, Chris, or something. He's a strong competitor but that's all he's got going for him, yknow?" Retorted Yura as he began eating directly from a small packet of butter that had been left in one of the small black containers that rested upon their table.

Now more concerned for Yuri's safety than his own embarrassment, the older skater pointed at the half eaten pad of butter, nearly whispering out the words "Um- you shouldn't do that. You'll get a stomach ache… They feed you, right?" He was half joking, but just on the off chance that they didn't… well, it couldn't hurt to ask.

Yura's face turned red, embarrassed, clearly having munched on it subconsciously. The rest of brunch went by seamlessly. Yuuri found that chatting with the young Russian was easy and somewhat familiar, though he couldn't quite place his finger on why.

The only hitch had been a small comment on Yuri's part when his older counterpart declined to order a meal, instead opting for a cup of plain black coffee. Yuuri had assured the younger skater that all was well and that eating has a habit of making him nauseous before competitions. It wasn't technically a lie, just a small stretch of the truth. No harm, no foul.

Once everyone had gone their separate ways in preparation of the day's short programs, Yuuri's nerves returned tenfold, once again beckoning him to chew his nails until they bled.

Celestino ran him through a few breathing exercises, but it did little to ease his fear once his name was called over the loudspeaker. He hadn't even noticed the first few skaters take to the ice, nor had he skated any warm up laps… his head was all over the place. This was going to be traumatic, wasn't it? Trauma builds character, Yuuri assured himself humorlessly.

Yuuri sucked in a deep breath and skated to the center of the rink, trying his best to drown out the murmurs of the audience. All he had to do was pretend he was alone, back in Hasetsu with Yuuko and Nishigori.

Yeah… that would be nice. It had been so long, there was so much to catch up on. Letting himself get distracted was Yuuri's first mistake. He had neglected to notice the opening notes of 'Let's Go Crazy' trickling out of the sound system. Startled, Yuuri floundered to catch his place, rushing into the program with messy footwork.

His entry into the quad loop was rushed at best, leading him to turn the four rotations he was aiming for into three.

No big deal, Yuuri could fix this, he could recover the rest of the program if he managed razor sharp focus. The jump's exit into a spread eagle smoothly transitioned into an Ina Bauer. Prince's voice urged him forward, pushing him into the quad salchow triple toe loop combo.

The arm gestures that came prior had cost him his attention, leading to another botched jump. This time, the quad had gone well but the second jump of the combo, the triple toe loop, had spun out, causing Yuuri to touch down on the ice momentarily.

He cursed under his breath, but did his best to maintain a cool exterior as he led his tired torso into the camel spin, completing the proceeding arm movements successfully by tapping his temple with one finger while the line 'let's go crazy' reverberated through the auditorium. The spin had been a successful level four movement, but Yuuri felt nothing but disdain.

Was Viktor watching, scoffing at him silently from the sidelines? What about little Yuri, was he disappointed in the man he had chosen to look up to? The thoughts were eating away at Yuuri's stability.

His lack of confidence led to several additional mistakes throughout the second half of the program. The boy needed to purge away this humiliation, he'd do anything to escape the growing sorrow that filled his aching existence, but he had to get off the ice first.

As Yuuri stood in front of the crowd holding his final pose for a good ten seconds or so, he felt unwavering tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Now was not the time to cry. He was stronger than this, goddamn it. Why couldn't Yuuri prove himself? Why couldn't he properly show the world what he was capable of?

There wasn't time to degrade himself further. Celestino stood at the edge of the rink with a soft yet concerned expression, waving his student over. He knew. What if everyone else did, too? Not a word was spoken as they made their way over to the kiss and cry. Yuuri had blown it big time . Only the score would tell if he could salvage this event with a perfect free skate.

Next to his name, written in English, was the dreaded number. 89.93 had been typed out in a small, bricky font. He had scored about twenty points lower here than he had at Skate America. Each breath felt like a sucker punch to the gut, organs clenching unceremoniously with each exhale he released.

Podiuming was out of the question, even if he skated his free to its maximum potential. He wasn't likely to make it to the GPF if he didn't at least land in fourth place here.

All of the would've, could've, should've's were irrelevant, Yuuri knew better than to dwell on what was now set in stone. He could pinpoint where things had truly gone to shit, in fact, it had happened before he had even stepped foot on the ice.

The boy had made the mistake of being genuine. Brunch with Yura had been far too comfortable, easing him back into his typical, soft self. New and improved Yuuri K. had taken the backseat.

"You didn't do badly. I'm pretty sure you would've been stoked about this score had you not blown everyone else out of the water at Skate America. The only person disappointed is in you… is you ." Comforted Celestino. How pathetic, to have to be comforted by one's coach at Yuuri's grown age.

Teachers are meant to push their students to new limits, but Yuuri was so feeble that his poor, empathetic coach felt the need to coddle him. It was wrong, and he knew better, but something about it made Yuuri irate, all rational flying out the window.

"I can do better. I will do better. You shouldn't have to put up with a student going out there and…. embarrassing you like this. Yell at me, scold me, I don't care, but never enable me to fail."

With that, Yuuri plastered a plastic smile on his face, doing what he could to play off his fit as a sweet moment between coach and student for those who had been paying attention to the K&C cam. Ciao Ciao looked stunned, and the familiar feeling of deserved guilt immediately replaced any remnants of fire that had burned within the boy. Honestly, though, could you blame him? He wasn't mad at Ciao Ciao.

He was mad at himself for sullying his coach's good name with such an appalling performance. Yes, Yuuri needed to apologize, to bow his head down and grovel, but he also had to prove his sincerity with a decent performance tomorrow. Decent? Get fucking real. Decent wouldn't be enough, it had to be stunning, jaw-dropping, life changing, and Yuuri knew in that moment that was fully capable of it.

Yuuri had opted to discreetly return to his hotel room instead of watching the rest of the skaters perform their programs. The last thing he needed was to see Viktor's smug face as he sat at the kiss and cry awaiting an undoubtedly perfect score.

It had only been an hour since Yuuri had laid his sore head atop on one of the down pillows that decorated his bed when a heavy knock resounded from his door. He knew exactly who would greet him when he freed the latch.

Celestino looked exhausted. Had Yuuri done that? Were his sharp words truly tactile enough to do that much noticeable damage in such a minimal pocket of time? Tears welled in thick droplets, dangerously teetering atop Yuuri's thick bottom lashes like dewdrops.

He knew he wouldn't receive a telling off, no matter how much he deserved it. Instead, the two hugged. After Yuuri had cried it out, they had a long heart-to-heart. The young skater apologized profusely, and his coach did the same, much to the boy's chagrin.

"I project my own worries onto you. I'm sorry, I know you're not a little boy anymore… I just think of you as my son, so when I see you being so critical of yourself… well..." His coach had explained.

Yuuri was quick to assure the man that the blame was laid entirely on him. There was no talk of the other skaters, no critique of his own performance, just a heartfelt conversation among family. It brought such contentment to Yuuri's wobbly soul, like an angel had graced him with a cure-all elixir.

The pair watched some trashy reality TV until around nine p.m, when the older man's tell-tale rhino-esque snores alerted Yuuri that it was past Ciao Ciao's bedtime. He awoke his coach and encouraged him to get some rest after the long day they had endured, swearing up and down that all was well once more.

Once Yuuri was left to his own devices, the haunting visions of failure returned, self doubt relentlessly encroaching upon him from the darkest corners of his being.

That wouldn't do, so he sought out one distraction after the next, going through every app on his phone, excluding his photo album and Twitter. He couldn't handle seeing any unpleasant reminders, not with dark and impressionable worries looming just beyond the horizon.

The netizens could wait. The few Yuuri felt comfortable interacting with would understand, surely. He was at an active competition, after all. Four Unisom tablets and three melatonin gummies finally lulled the boy into a restless slumber, heavy eyelids overpowering his active mind.

All night long he tossed and turned, but when Ciao Ciao shook him awake, he couldn't remember the night's dreams, which was likely for the best.

An eerie calm had settled over Yuuri that morning. He had his trump card locked and loaded, his costumes were ironed and his hair wasn't acting up the way it normally did. The teen had managed to avoid any news about the prior day, carefully skirting around any talk of the other athlete's scores.

What he didn't know couldn't hurt him. Yes, though Yuuri had placed everything on the line, he knew it would be ok. He knew he had what it takes, and soon everyone else would know too. Chris believed in him, as did Yura, Peach, Ciao Ciao and his own family back in Japan.

A light breakfast and a quaint cup of espresso supplied him with the energy he needed for warm up. The other skaters seemed uneasy, but he paid them no attention. Viktor had probably scared them into submission with his short program, but they hadn't seen anything yet. A faint buzz in his jacket pocket caught Yuuri's attention.

He had silenced any social media notifications, as well as most text notifs, therefore the message had to be from someone he deemed to be of high priority.

Peach: Knock em dead, Yuuri

Yuuri: you know I will >:))

Peach: THATS WHAT I WANNA HEAR!! WOO!!!

Yuuri: Don't blink, ok?? You might miss the good part. I'm doing the thing, me and Ciao Ciao messaged the staff a week ago w the changes. surprise!

Peach: Holy Shit Holy Shit Holy Shit

Yuuri: gtg <3! Text you after < p>

Eyes forward, gait steady, Yuuri made his way to the arena, more than ready to prove without a doubt that he belonged in the senior division.