Chapter Text
“Can you tell me your full name?”
“Victor Ilitch Nikiforov.”
“What do you do in life?”
“I’m a figure skater.”
“How old are you?”
“26.”
“What year is this?”
“2015.”
***
It all goes very fast. Victor’s blade catches a dent when he lands a jump during practice. He falls backward. The back of his head hits the ice. The scene happens in a second and yet in Yuuri’s brain it lasts forever.
Victor is still unconscious when he is taken into the ambulance. Yuuri sits in the waiting room of the E.R. for four excruciating hours. The sound of Victor's skull hitting the ice haunts him. He cannot think about anything else but this split second where he looked at Victor and saw him falling. He waits, but it feels like time has stopped.
Finally someone comes to get him. A man in a white lab coat makes him sit at a large desk. He explains that his husband has a hairline fracture of the skull. He calls it a traumatic brain injury. Yuuri nods politely. He says that they did a lot of tests and that it's the reason why Yuuri had to wait for so long. According to him the scans revealed a minor trauma but the tests showed that Victor has no language or motricity problem. His injury is mostly superficial and he should get away with just headaches and dizziness while he recovers. Yuuri has a small smile at the news. He cannot wait to see Victor.
“However…” the doctor says before he clears his throat and looks at Yuuri again, “your husband seems to have... memory issues. We need to study his condition a bit more to have a more accurate diagnosis, but it looks like retrograde amnesia. He doesn’t remember what happened for a period of time before his accident.”
Yuuri blinks. It would not be surprising for Victor to be a bit shaken after such a hit on the head. He should be fine even if he doesn’t quite remember the circumstances of his accident or the few hours before it.
“We don’t really know how much he remembers exactly,” the doctor resumes, “but he doesn’t seem to remember the past three or four years or so.”
Yuuri’s heart skips a beat. He must have heard it wrong.
“Three or four... years?” he repeats.
“He could remember random things in between, but yes… As far as we know, he thinks it’s 2015.”
Yuuri’s whole body freezes. His stomach turns. Why didn’t the doctor start with this information instead of telling him for ten minutes that Victor was fine? 2015 seems so far away, so many things have happened in the past 3 years. Yuuri feels panic bloom in his chest just thinking about how many things Victor might have forgotten.
“Will it- Will it come back?” he asks weakly.
“We cannot tell. We can try to stimulate his memory with photos, stories, sounds, anything, it usually helps with retrograde amnesia, but I cannot guarantee it’ll ever come back completely. He will most likely remember some things, eventually. Other things will be lost forever. Only time will tell.”
Yuuri opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes. He needs to see Victor. He needs to see him, to talk to him, to hear him say that it'll be ok. Surely Victor was just confused when he woke up and he needs a bit of help to get his thoughts into place again.
“So far his condition is fragile and he’s very tired,” the doctor resumes, “we tried not to ask him too many questions or to tell him too many things that would upset him, he’s already overwhelmed by the shortest conversation.”
Yuuri nods again and looks away.
“How long have you known each other?” the doctor asks.
It’s hard to say it out loud. “Three years.”
The doctor's face changes. He understands.
“I’m sorry.”
Yuuri is allowed to visit Victor. From the very first seconds he can tell that he doesn’t recognize him. Victor watches him walk into the room with questioning eyes. He looks paler than usual, his hair is messy and his eyes distraught. Yuuri wants to touch him and hold him and hug him, tell him how scared he was and how relieved he is to see him awake. He wants to tell him not to worry, that they will go home and that he will take care of him and he will soon feel better. He wants to kiss him and to tell him how much he loves him.
He does none of this. He just stands there, and gives Victor time to look at him.
“Hey,” he says, after long seconds where Victor doesn't show any sign that he knows Yuuri.
There is a silence. Victor is visibly hesitant. “Hi.”
Yuuri walks up to his bed. He refrains from taking Victor’s hand. “How are you feeling?”
Victor’s tone is polite. “I’m good, thank you.”
“I’m glad. I- I was really scared.”
Another silence. Yuuri doesn’t know what to do. Victor keeps looking at him like he expects him to say something.
“Do you work here?” he asks, after Yuuri has been standing by his bed for a good minute without moving. Yuuri’s heart sinks in his chest. He should have expected this but he was still not ready to see it. He presses his lips very hard not to show his reaction. He remembers the words of the doctor not to assault Victor with too many questions or brutal news. He tries not to look overwhelmed so as not to make Victor panic.
“I don't, I’m just visiting. I wanted to make sure that you were ok.”
“Are you a fan?”
“... Yeah.”
Victor has this big, naive heart-shaped smile that makes Yuuri’s heart hurt. “Thanks for stopping by!” he says happily.
“You really… really don’t know who I am?” Yuuri tries despite himself.
Victor shakes his head slowly. “Sorry, I can’t remember all my fans.”
Yuuri doesn’t have the strength to continue this conversation. He nods. “I’ll see you later, Victor.”
Yakov visits after Yuuri leaves. He spends a long time in Victor’s room. Victor knows him, he trusts him, it’s easier if it’s Yakov who tells him about the past few years. Yuuri waits. When Yakov comes out Yuuri hopes that he will tell him that Victor wants to see him, but Yakov shakes his head. “He’s tired. He doesn’t want to listen to me. The doctor said we should let him rest, it was a lot for today.”
“I know,” Victor says when Yuuri walks into his room again the next morning. He looks slightly better than the day before, some color is back in his cheeks and his hair has been combed. Yuuri raises an eyebrow.
“There was a wedding band in the box with my belongings,” Victor adds. “Yakov told me. That we’re married. You and me.”
“Oh.”
Victor shakes his head. “I have all these pictures of you in my phone... I asked the nurse. She says my record says I’m married.”
Yuuri raises his hand to show his own ring. “Yeah, we’ve been married for almost two years now.”
Victor looks away. His fingers twitch. He struggles to find his words.
“I- I don’t even know your name,” he eventually says, in total disbelief that he is unable to remember the name of his alleged husband.
“Yuuri. Yuuri Katsuki. Katsuki-Nikiforov.”
Victor has a small laugh that Yuuri had never heard before. It’s sharp and ironic, not happy at all. “Yeah right? Apparently I’m also a Katsuki-Nikiforov now…”
Yuuri remains silent. The tone in Victor’s voice, the way he speaks and he moves, nothing is familiar. It’s cold and distant, far from the love and the gentleness he usually shows when he is with Yuuri.
“I just- It doesn’t make any sense,” Victor says almost for himself. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs.
Yuuri nods. “I know it sounds crazy, but-”
“How did we even meet? I mean- we live across the world?”
“I know, it’s a long story-”
“Yakov says I dropped out of competition?” Victor cuts in again, and he is visibly deeply distressed just to say it out loud. “Why? Why would I stop when I’m winning everything? And he said I took a full year off !? It- I’d never do that willingly!”
“You needed a break-”
“And so I traveled across the world and met you?”
Now that Victor says it out loud, it’s true that the scenario of their first meeting sounds quite unlikely. Yuuri would have liked to have a better explanation but he just nods. “Erm, yeah.”
Victor sighs. He shakes his head silently before looking up again. “I think I need to rest.”
Yuuri takes the hint and doesn’t insist. Victor’s attitude is so different that Yuuri doesn’t really know how to act around him. He walks to the door.
“My number is in your phone. If you need anything."
Victor needs a while to calm down after a stranger confirmed that they are married, and have been for almost two years. He cannot believe that he forgot about such important life decisions, and he cannot shake off the idea that the whole thing sounds like a scam. He has won the last five world championships, there could be someone who wants to stop this winning streak. But why would Yakov take part in this? Especially lately, the beginning of the season was difficult, his motivation and his form weren’t always as high as they used to be, he knew he had to work twice as hard to stay at the top, it didn't make any sense to suddenly take a gap year. The idea that he is retired is honestly terrifying. What is he supposed to do now if he doesn’t skate anymore? He doesn't know anything else.
That night Victor cannot sleep. His room at the hospital is cold and gloomy, the bed is hard, his head hurts. He takes his phone from the nightstand. He still cannot believe the date that tells him it’s September 2018. He opens the messages that he exchanged with his husband before his accident. He scrolls up. He doesn’t remember sending any of these. It’s not like him to be so mushy and to use so many heart emojis. It’s horribly domestic.
“Can you please buy bread on your way back from the rink tonight?”
“Thinking about you <3”
“My mom called she says it’s ok for this summer”
“I took Makkachin out to the park I’ll be home soon”
“I love you <3”
Victor cannot stop staring at these messages that he doesn’t remember typing. The frustration of not being able to know when, where, or why he sent these makes his headache worse. He closes the phone but he cannot sleep until the early morning.
Yuuri visits again the next day. He brings Victor several changes of clothes and his toiletry bag to make his hospital stay more comfortable. He tries to follow the doctor’s advice to stimulate Victor’s memory and shows him pictures on his phone. Victor doesn’t recognize his belongings and the pictures don’t wake any memory. Yuuri is disappointed but he understands that Victor will need time and support to recover. He talks with the doctors for long hours to try and find the best ways to help him. He is convinced that it’s just a matter of days before Victor recognizes him again, he only needs to rest a bit more.
Every day that follows, Yuuri comes to the hospital to spend a few hours with Victor. He tells him about their relationship, shows him photos, brings items from their apartment. He makes him listen to songs they have skated to and the ones they like to listen to together. He chooses special pictures that he knows he and Victor really love and that he is sure will trigger his memory. He tells him about anecdotes in their married life that Victor simply cannot have completely forgotten. He is confident that Victor will soon remember their relationship. He holds onto the doctors’ words that most people with retrograde amnesia recover when they get help finding their memories back. Every day he thinks it will be the right day, the day Victor will remember him when he walks into the room.
But the days pass and Yuuri’s visits at the hospital do not bring the results he expected. Victor does not remember a thing. He listens to Yuuri and looks at the pictures but he can only shrug and apologize as he tells Yuuri that he has no recollection of these scenes. Several times Yuuri thinks Victor remembers something but Victor is just smiling to be polite. It is a special kind of torture for Yuuri to talk to his husband about their relationship and watch him shake his head as he doesn’t remember a single minute of the time they shared together.
What makes it even harder for Yuuri however, is that Victor remains coldly distant and gives him very little attention. After several visits he still treats him like a stranger, and the pain in Yuuri's heart gets deeper. Victor asks very few questions, mostly about himself and his life, about the medals he won and the records he broke during the years he forgot. Yuuri briefly catches his interest when he confesses that he has been a fan of him for years. Victor offers to sign him an autograph. Yuuri declines.
Victor also grows tired of Yuuri’s visits. Instead of helping his memory and making him recover, Yuuri’s stories only make him painfully aware of the giant void in his brain. Victor thought there was not that much that he had forgotten, surely three years couldn’t have brought too much change in his life, and yet Yuuri keeps bringing up important things that he should remember and that he doesn’t. Every time Yuuri says something, he looks at Victor hoping to see a spark in his eyes, a smile, a sign that shows that he remembers, but Victor can only look down and shake his head, and Yuuri’s shoulders fall in disappointment.
The pressure to get better and to be someone he is not stresses him and worsens the exhaustion and the headaches he has had since the accident. Soon he becomes ashamed of his problem: he never knows how to act around people because he doesn’t know if they have met before, he cannot follow a normal conversation because he has no idea what people are talking about, he doesn’t recognize himself in the choices he has made in the past few years that brought him where he is. No matter how much he tries to catch up it seems that his memory is a bottomless pit, and every time Yuuri comes the pit seems deeper and wider and Victor is falling into it headfirst. He comes to dread Yuuri’s visits, knowing that they will only bring him stress and anxiety.
One afternoon Yuuri visits but Victor barely says a word. He hardly even looks at the photo Yuuri is showing him. Yuuri has to gather all his strength not to break down in tears.
“Please just… just try to focus?” he asks when Victor is absolutely not responsive. “Just for a moment. Just look at the picture, I’m sure you remember this.”
Victor poorly represses a sigh. “I am focusing, I can’t remember on command, I’m sorry.”
“Just try!”
“I am trying! If I could remember everything I would!”
Yuuri pulls back and slumps on his chair. “I’m sorry,” he says after a pause. “You don’t remember but… I’m in this in sickness and in health and for better or for worse, and maybe it feels like the worse but I love you anyway. I can’t force you to love me back, but I love you.”
After three weeks and not even the shadow of an encouraging sign, the doctors start talking about what could be permanent memory damages, and Yuuri’s heart crumbles at the thought.
“It’s possible that the change of career and way of life that he made three years ago when he moved to Japan remained a key point in his memory and now he has forgotten everything since that last big event," the doctor explains.
Yuuri refuses to even think about it. “Maybe if we just find the right thing he will remember?”
“Could be. But the more time passes the more likely he is to simply create new memories and try to move on.”
Soon Victor’s skull injury is almost completely healed and he has recovered his strength. He still gets headaches and dizzy spells when he pushes himself too much but he doesn't need constant supervision anymore. He is cleared by his doctors to leave the hospital at the end of the week when all his last tests are done. And he is quite eager to go home. He is tired of lying on his bed and feeling so helpless. He doesn’t want to look at pictures of himself like he is going through a stranger’s album anymore, he doesn’t want to hear funny anecdotes about his husband that don’t even make him smile. He wants to take a hold of things and stop listening passively to a life he barely believes has existed. He hopes to go back to the rink as soon as possible. He needs to get back on track and make it to the Russian nationals at the end of the year.
He has a last visit with his psychologist before being discharged and he cannot wait to be done with it. He hates these sessions that do not help him progress whatsoever and consist of paying someone to ask him about his day. He only tries to comply to be released as soon as possible.
“How are you doing, Victor?” the woman asks when he sits in the chair in front of her.
He flashes her his press conference smile. "I'm good, I'm still a bit tired but other than that, I'm alright."
The psychologist looks at him silently as if she expected something more but Victor still smiles politely without a word.
“How is your recovery going?” she asks. “How do you feel about the things you’ve been told, the things you don’t remember?”
Victor shrugs. “It’s fine. I don’t really mind. I can make do.”
“Nothing that stresses you or disturbs you?”
Victor shakes his head. “No.”
There is a silence while the doctor scribbles in Victor’s medical file. She doesn’t look happy despite Victor’s best efforts to look convincing.
"I think I’d like to see you again for a few more sessions after you leave the hospital Mr. Nikiforov. If it’s alright with you."
"What? Why? I feel good!"
"I'm sure you do. It's just to follow your progress.”
Yuuri has been told by the doctors that Victor would be out soon and he is excited to visit him that day. It’s only when he walks into his room and Victor looks even more upset than usual that Yuuri feels that something is wrong.
“We need to talk,” Victor says when Yuuri takes off his coat and sits in his usual chair by Victor’s bed. So far Yuuri has tried to ignore Victor’s bad grace during his visits. He doesn’t want to acknowledge that Victor isn’t very interested in recovering the memories they share together. Self-preservation maybe.
“I appreciate what you’re trying to do,” Victor says, “I really do, but it’s not working.”
Yuuri shakes his head. “It’s ok, the doctors say it can take time, we just need to find the right things to trigger your memory. I’m sure when you get home it’ll be easier.”
“No I think-”
“I brought food today!” Yuuri says hastily as he takes a plastic box out of his bag and opens it. He doesn’t want to hear what Victor has to say. He doesn’t want to give up so soon.
Victor frowns. “I’ve had piroshkis far before my accident.”
“Yeah but not these ones! They are filled with fried pork, eggs, and rice. Yuri made them for us!”
Instead of looking excited, Victor sighs and pushes the box aside.
“Listen, I’m sorry,” he says. “You’re cute and you look like a good person but this is not going anywhere. I… I don’t really… understand how we got married. Honestly I don’t really think you’re my type.”
This time Yuuri doesn’t know what to say. He had not expected Victor to be so different. He had never even considered that Victor might not want to stay with him. Suddenly Yuuri realizes that Victor might leave him and the idea is too big to grasp.
“To be completely frank,” Victor adds when Yuuri doesn’t say anything, “I can’t help but think that if I don’t remember you, maybe our relationship wasn’t that strong and we weren’t meant to be together?”
Yuuri is paralyzed. Victor’s words cut like blades into his chest. It hurts so bad, it must be true. Their love might not have been that important to Victor if his brain just decided to wipe it out clean in a second.
Victor keeps looking at him but Yuuri still doesn’t respond and keeps looking into the void as the situation sinks in. Victor winces. “I’m sorry but just try and put yourself in my place…”
There is no one to put themselves in Yuuri’s place. He just nods and stands up. His fingers are shaking when he feverishly tries to put his things back in his bag and grab his coat. He steps back and stumbles against his chair. He needs to leave.
“I’m sorry,” Victor repeats.
Yuuri shakes his head hastily. “It’s alright."
He has never been less alright. He almost runs through the door.
Yuuri doesn’t go back to the hospital the following day. Nor the day after. After a painful reflection he decides to leave the apartment before Victor comes out of the hospital. The place is still Victor’s, and now that Victor doesn’t know him anymore, he doesn’t want to impose his presence. It was already hard enough to be treated like a stranger in the hospital, Yuuri doesn't want to feel the same in this place that he considers his home. He starts slowly gathering his belongings and considers flying back to Japan.
On the third day Yuri knocks at his door to check on him after not seeing him at the hospital. He finds Yuuri packing his suitcase and putting his things in order. He is leaving a lot of things behind but he doesn't really care.
“If you leave he’ll never remember anything,” Yuri says blandly.
Yuuri grimaces vaguely. It’s not like he has many other options. “He doesn’t know me, it doesn’t even want to talk to me, I can’t live in his apartment and sleep in his bed.”
“Just sleep on the couch for a while. It’ll come back.”
Yuuri shrugs slowly. It’s not that easy. He avoids Yuri’s gaze. “I have nothing left here - I don’t even have a coach anymore.”
“Yakov can coach you until Victor remembers.”
“What if he never remembers?” Yuuri blurts.
“What if he remembers and he realizes that you gave up on your marriage after only a few weeks?”
Yuuri clenches his teeth. Maybe it’s anger, maybe he is just trying not to cry. Yuri’s attack feels undeserved. “I tried, I showed him pictures, I told him that we are married I-”
“You tried for three weeks!” Yuri shouts, and Yuuri finally straightens and dares to look at him in the eyes. “Three weeks and you give up? Is that what your marriage is worth? I sat in this fucking ceremony for an hour listening to your stupid vows of love forever and it ends like this? The idiot was already forgetful as fuck before his accident so now of course it’s even worse but now you gotta work for it!”
Yuuri clenches his fists. He doesn’t know if he is more upset or angry to be called out like that. Listening to Yuri it sounds like all he has to do is go talk to Victor, it sounds like it’s easy to face his husband and see that he doesn’t remember anything from their life together, that every precious moment they spent, every breakfast, every kiss, every touch, it’s all gone. He could have exploded in rage against Yuri and instead it’s like his strength leaves him and big tears roll on his cheeks.
“I can’t do it anymore.”
Yuri raises an eyebrow.
“I can’t go and see him and live with him and see that he doesn’t remember me,” Yuuri sobs painfully, “that he doesn’t love me, and hear him tell me that our relationship wasn’t real. It hurts too bad. I’ve had enough.”
Yuri pretends to be reluctant but he lets Yuuri cry on his hoodie when he hugs him. Yuuri wishes Victor would be there to take him in his arms and tell him that things are going to be alright. It makes his tears flow even harder.
Yuri pats his back, awkwardly but still gently. “Wanna sleep at my place tonight? I’ll order pizza.”
That night between two slices of pizza while Yuri is under the shower, Yuuri calls home. He tries to keep it together but hearing his mother's voice makes him realize how lonely he feels, thousand miles away from his family, and virtually that far away from his husband. It's not a minute before he ends up crying again. It’s so hard being alone and knowing that it might never be the same again. Victor is so different, Yuuri can hardly find traces of the man he has married. It’s like the Victor he knows is dead. Sometimes he feels like it’s even worse than if he were dead, because he can see him, he can talk to him, but Victor has moved on.
“I’m sure Victor will get better," Hiroko says," he just needs time.”
Yuuri’s eyes are so swollen with tears that they hurt. “But what if he doesn’t get better?”
“Victor loves you, his brain is hurt but his heart remembers.”
Yuuri sniffles loudly. He wipes his tears with his palm but it only makes a mess on his burning cheeks. “I don’t think he does.”
“He is upset because he is lost… You know how he is when he is upset…”
Yuuri knows. When he is with people he doesn’t know, Victor will go to great lengths to avoid admitting how he is feeling. He will play a role, hide behind a fake smile, he will act like a child and go to hell and back before he opens up and admits what is bothering him.
“Yuuri… You know you can come back at any time if you need to, but I think you should give Victor a bit more time.”
“I-”
“I know it’s hard. But I’m sure it’s worth giving him another chance.”
Yuuri agrees to wait a little bit before deciding to stay or fly back to Japan, mostly because he doesn't have the strength to make a decision anyway. He settles in Yuri’s studio, on the couch. It’s small and not ideal but it’s a temporary solution and he doesn’t have the heart or the energy to find a hotel room. Being without Victor leaves him like an empty shell and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. During the day he is like the ghost of himself and at night he sobs that Victor might never come back to hug him to sleep.
Victor is discharged from the hospital the next day. He is relieved to come home: he still lives in the same apartment, Makkachin is waiting for him, he finally finds things that he remembers and that feel familiar. He cannot wait to have some quiet time alone after his hospital stay, where everyone was trying to tell him that he was not who he thought he was and constantly pushing him into a life he didn’t want.
He pretends not to notice all the little things that have changed in his apartment. A new couch. A new TV. He turns it on. He looks for the remote and grumbles when he cannot find it in the usual spot. He gets hungry. He opens a kitchen cabinet. He doesn’t recognize half of the things inside. There are half a dozen bottles of Asian sauces with labels that he cannot read. He fumbles in the back and finds something that looks like dried seaweed. There is a rice cooker plugged on the countertop. He doesn’t even know how to use a rice cooker. He orders food.
The more he looks around, the worse it gets. There are trinkets on his shelves that he doesn’t recognize. He doesn’t remember where or when he got them. In the bedroom he stumbles on a pair of skates that are far too small for him. It’s a brand he doesn’t know. Two toothbrushes are in a glass on the sink in the bathroom. He double takes at his reflection in the mirror. His hair is just slightly shorter than usual. His abs are less sharp than they were, his waist is slightly thicker. He makes a mental note to watch his diet and wonders bitterly how he let himself go like that.
There is underwear that doesn't belong to him in the laundry basket. On the bed he finds a T-shirt that is too small for him. Without thinking, he brings it up under his nose to smell it. The smell is soft and sweet. He smells it again. It feels strangely comforting.
It doesn’t feel like he is at home. It feels like he is living in someone else’s place. He thought going back home would make him feel better but it’s actually worse. Seeing that he doesn’t know his way in his own apartment makes his problem even more obvious to him. After only a few hours being home he wants to scream in frustration when he knocks his hip against a piece of furniture that wasn’t there three years earlier or when he finds a Japanese magazine on his nightstand and his brain cannot find any reasonable scenario to explain how it arrived there.
That night when he goes to bed, his sheets don’t smell like usual. It’s a new laundry detergent. Makkachin climbs next to him on the mattress, sniffs the other pillow and whines. She lies down on the empty side of the bed and gives Victor her sad puppy eyes. Now it feels like even his dog is telling him that something is wrong.
He opens his laptop to try and take his mind off things before sleep. He blesses himself that he has not changed his password in 3 years. New folders catch his eyes on the desktop. There are several dozen gigas of photos from the past three years. He hesitates for a second but curiosity wins and he opens one of the oldest ones. It feels different to go through the photos by himself, alone, when the doctors or his husband are not over his shoulder, staring at him in hope of seeing his eyes light up and his memory come back suddenly, triggered by a picture of a dog or a day at the beach. He lies back in his pillows and keeps going through the folders. He looks at pictures from 2015. This he remembers. He remembers the beginning of the season, his programs, his assignments. As he advances in the photos he remembers less and less. He doesn’t recognize the faces. He sees himself in situations he cannot recall. He stops on a picture of a Japanese airport. He doesn’t remember traveling to Japan that year. He goes back in the pictures. He remembers the Grand Prix Final but not the banquet. Anything after the podium of the final is a blurr.
He starts looking at these pictures that he doesn’t know. He skips through full albums that could be someone else’s. Sometimes he even wonders if he was not just photoshopped into these pictures. It’s a never ending flow of casual photos, at home, outside, at the rink, while traveling abroad. There are pictures of himself, of his husband, of Makkachin. They look happy.
The night is well advanced when he sees a folder called “Wedding”. 4847 pictures. He opens it. An out of focus picture of a flower arrangement. A group of people he doesn’t know. A series of pictures of table decorations at a luxury venue. Himself, wearing a tuxedo and talking to Yakov over a glass of champagne. A picture of his husband, smiling. His cheeks are pink and his eyes sparkle. His suit is slightly untidy but he still looks very handsome. Victor wonders how he didn’t notice how good looking he was while at the hospital. To be fair, he has barely even looked at him in the eyes. He presses the arrow on his keyboard. A picture of Chris standing up and holding a microphone and a piece of paper as he reads a speech. A blurry picture of a couple dancing. A neat picture of the same couple. It’s them, in each other’s arms, turning slowly. Victor keeps looking at the pictures one after the other and the void in his brain feels overwhelming. All these pictures of himself without being able to recall anything about them is too much. All the stress from the past few weeks crushes him. His sight gets blurry as his eyes fill with tears. Makkachin comes to lick his face. He hugs her.
How is it possible to live all of this and not remember anything? Every time he looks around, every time he talks to someone, every time he sees a picture, the void in his mind seems bigger. It is like he didn’t miss three years of his life but twenty. How did he become such a different person in such a short amount of time? How did he change career, meet someone and get married so quickly when he had been a workaholic bachelor for 25 years? It feels like everything has slipped out of his mind like sand through his fingers. He has never felt so helpless.
He keeps looking at more pictures. He finds another photo of his husband. Another one. Another one. 20 pictures of him in a row. He cries into Makkachin’s fur.
The next morning in Yuri’s studio, Yuuri is woken up by his ringtone. His eyes are swollen and his head hurts. He struggles to find his phone in the cushions of the couch and squints at the screen to read it without his glasses. He frowns. Chris hardly ever calls him. They are friends but Chris usually mostly talks with Victor. He slides the green button to pick up the call.
“Yuuri?”
“Yeah?”
“How are you?”
“Good. You?”
“I called Victor.”
Yuuri pauses. “Ah.”
“I wanted to know how he was, I heard he was out of the hospital.”
“Yeah, he just went home yesterday.”
“He seemed… different. I thought I’d call you, maybe he was still a bit tired.”
“Yeah.”
There is a silence. Yuuri cannot find the right words. He doesn't know where to start. His throat is so tight it hurts.
“Are you ok?” Chris asks.
“Yeah.”
“Really?”
“It... It’s complicated.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know if he told you but Victor hit his head pretty hard and he has amnesia…”
“Yeah, he said he doesn’t remember everything. He said he was mostly fine though.”
Yuuri’s heart is already in tiny pieces but hearing that Victor considers that he is fine makes him feel even worse. “He doesn’t remember anything between 2015 and his accident,” Yuuri says bluntly. “He didn’t know he was married, he doesn’t know who I am.”
Another long blank on the line.
“But it’ll come back, right?” Chris asks. “He will remember, won’t he?”
Yuuri takes a deep breath to steady his voice. “It’s not looking good. He… isn’t very cooperative. I moved out of the apartment.”
“Yuuri, I’m sorry.”
“Yeah.”
“If you need anything...”
He needs Victor back.
“Thanks.”
The following days Victor wanders in his apartment like a lost soul. He cannot find where he stores the toilet paper, he doesn’t know the password to the streaming service on his TV, he gets positively upset wondering if the items on his shelves belong to him or if his husband left them there while moving out.
Back home he scrolls the internet and tries to piece things together, tries to make a timeline of the years he doesn’t remember. The competitions he won, the ones he lost. He finds a few articles about the championships, but his name is almost always attached to Yuuri's in the headlines. An article announces his trip to Japan in March 2016. “Victor Nikiforov becomes a coach!” “Victor Nikiforov’s skater takes silver at the Grand Prix Final!” “Victor Nikiforov : Engaged?” “Victor Nikiforov & Yuuri Katsuki: The Wedding of the Year”. He reads so much about this Victor Nikiforov that he forgets that he is reading about himself. It means nothing to him.
In an effort to make his life feel normal again, Victor grabs what looks like his current pair of skates and heads out to the rink. He doesn't even reach the locker room before Yakov stops him.
"Katsuki said the hospital has not cleared you to skate again yet.”
Victor wants to scream. Could he just for one day not hear about this Katsuki who is haunting his apartment and trying to tell him how to live his life? Now he even prevents him from skating, the only thing that was still stable in his life.
“This is none of his business!” Victor snaps as he tries to walk around Yakov, but Yakov still doesn't let him pass.
“He’s your husband, your health is his business. I suggest you put a bit of order in your life before you skate again.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do!” Victor argues. “Trying to start again and move on!”
“That’s not how it works! You may not remember the past three years but everybody else does. We cannot all act like these years don't exist to make you feel better. We’re not going to change our lives to make it easier for you!”
Victor flinches. He is having one of the most difficult times in his life, completely lost, alone, and now even Yakov refuses to support him. He almost resents Yuuri Katsuki even more that he managed to turn his lifelong coach against him.
“Can you imagine how I feel?” he moans pitifully. “What it’s like not to know who you are?”
Yakov has seen Victor whine often enough and doesn’t even blink. “Can you imagine what it’s like to be married to someone who doesn’t know who you are? You moved to another country to live with someone and overnight he doesn’t remember you and doesn’t want to make any effort to save your relationship?”
“I made efforts!”
“When?”
“I listened to what he told me when he came to the hospital.”
“Did you really? What did you take from it?”
Victor pauses. To be fair he was busier trying to understand how to get rid of his husband and get back to competition than actually listening to what he had to say. “He is nice?... He skates and he likes dogs.”
“I’ve seen you work hard to get something before Victor, and this is not it," Yakov mumbles in anger. “Katsuki loves you more than you deserve it. No one else will be stupid enough to love you like he does. Especially not with that attitude.”
With that Yakov turns around. Victor watches him leave. He hates that his words ring true.
And so Victor skates alone during the late hours, when the public is gone and the skaters have left the locker room. His muscles feel tight and his joints stiff. How did he age that much in only three years? After only a short warm up his head turns and the dizziness forces him to take a break. A voice in his head tells him that Katsuki and Yakov were right to tell him to stay off the ice and it makes his frustration worse. He sits on a bench and breathes until his head is clear again. He takes out his phone and looks for videos of his competitions in the past years. There is a video of his husband skating his program. Once again, curiosity gets him to click. Yuuri Katsuki is a bit chubby and the quadruple jumps are triples but somehow Victor cannot take his eyes off the screen. Until the very last note he holds his breath. The way Yuuri dances, the way he spins and turns, the movements of his arms and the expression on his face, everything is captivating. Victor plays the video again when it ends, and a third time afterwards.
Yakov’s words echo in his mind.
He picks up his things and walks back home.
That night he tries to forget his worries but everything around him still screams that something is not right in his life. He receives notifications in Japanese on his phone. He accidentally knocks a little buddha statue off the chest of drawers and he wonders why he even has a buddha statue. He takes the trash out and the neighbors greet him warmly and wish him to get well soon. He has no idea who they are. Makkachin keeps dragging her paws and looking at him like she’s the saddest dog in the world. Victor cannot shake the feeling that he is responsible for her misery.
He cannot fall asleep before the early hours of the morning. He has not had a proper night of sleep since he came back home. The bed is too big and too cold. He keeps turning and stirring and trying to make sense out of everything. He catches himself hugging a pillow. It has this sweet and soft smell that feels weirdly comforting. Makkachin keeps whining on the other side of the mattress.
Yuri convinces Yuuri to come and visit Yakov with him, if only to take his mind off things. Yuuri just wants to stay under his blanket and forget about everything. He wishes he could be like Victor and forget they ever even met. Surely it’d be easier. But Yuri insists on making him leave the couch and so there he is, sitting at the kitchen table at Lilia’s and holding a porcelain cup with both of his hands. Yakov brings black tea and dried biscuits that expired before the fall of the USSR, and sits next to them. He sighs and grumbles when Yuri dives a hand into the biscuit box and grabs five at a time.
“Victor came to the rink yesterday,” Yakov says seriously. Yuuri opens his mouth to protest but Yakov cuts him with a sign of the hand.
"I know. I told him he couldn't skate again yet. He wasn’t happy."
Yuuri looks at his cup of tea. Victor being forbidden to skate must be the last straw to his misery. Yuuri can’t help but ask for news. A part of him hopes that Victor still thinks about him. “How was he?”
“Not good.”
It was expected but Yuuri still looks down in disappointment.
“He reminds me of how he was… before,” Yakov adds. “When I said that he was selfish and full of himself, I wasn’t making it up. It got better as he grew older, but… he had times where he was… like that. He thought he was always right and wouldn’t listen to anyone. I kept coaching him because he was hard working and I knew he was a good kid inside, but sometimes… sometimes he came really close to the line.”
Yuuri remains silent. It hurts to know that Victor is in such a bad place and he cannot help him. He knows that his attitude is the result of his stress and his loneliness and he wishes he could hug him and relieve him from this pain. For a moment the kitchen is silent and only the sound of Yakov’s spoon against his tea cup fills the void. He clears his throat in a rough cough. “You’re not going to leave him, are you? The kid’s stubborn but he needs you.”
Yuuri looks down. He could stay forever but he has no guarantee it’ll ever help Victor. He doesn’t even know if Victor will agree to see him again.
“If you stay I’ll make you more katsudon piroshki,” Yuri says, and it’s so unexpected that Yuuri can’t help a smile.
“I’ll coach you until Victor is well enough again,” Yakov says, and his voice is grumpy but it gives Yuuri just the little bit of hope that he needs. He nods and takes another sip of tea. Yuri gives him one of his biscuits. Yuuri’s chest feels strangely warm.
Victor, however, feels like he is losing the battle. He has only been home for a week and yet he is already exhausted and giving up. Everything around him, all these things that he cannot figure out, are reminders that he is just pretending that everything is fine. No matter what he does, everything feels wrong in his life, from the moment he wakes up without knowing what he is going to do with his day to the time he goes to sleep at night in his cold empty bed. He tries to skip his psychologist appointment but the hospital harasses him on the phone. He cannot wait to be done with these sessions and yet she keeps adding more appointments everytime she sees him and he doesn’t understand why.
"I'm good,” he says when he slumps in the chair in front of the psychologist.
"Are you?"
"No!” Victor blurts angrily. “I'm losing my mind! Literally."
The psychologist raises her eyebrows and nods with satisfaction. Victor is even more irritated that she seems happy to hear that he is going crazy.
"Did you see your friends again?” she asks. “Your coach? Your husband?"
"No. They keep trying to tell me what to do, I don’t need them.”
The psychologist loses her smile and scribbles again."We’re going to need more sessions."
Victor holds back a scream of frustration.
When he comes home after his appointment that evening it feels like he hits rock bottom. He downs two glasses of some Japanese alcohol that was in his cabinet and plans to drink until he forgets his problems, on top of having forgotten everything else. When his phone rings he is surprised, but relieved to see that it's at least someone he knows.
"Chris?"
"I called Yuuri."
Victor rolls his eyes and refrains a sigh. Katsuki will seriously follow him wherever he goes. "And?"
"I think you're making a mistake."
Chris is serious and concerned and Victor hates that everyone around him decided to lecture him about his life choices. “Why?”
"I know you pushed him away and he moved out of your apartment.”
Victor is slightly embarrassed that Katsuki reported his behavior to his friend. “So what?”
“Yuuri's probably the best thing that ever happened to you… if you let him go you're going to be miserable again.”
“I'm not miserable.”
"Oh?"
Chris’ tone is sarcastic and the silence that follows is enough of an answer. Victor looks at the bottle that he was drinking alone and cannot find anything to say to argue.
Chris continues. "It's none of my business-”
“No it's not,” Victor cuts.
“-but you both are my friends and I don't want to let you ruin this just because you’re a stubborn idiot.”
“What-”
“You remember that time in Lausanne when you showed me your new program and you asked me to be honest with you? To be a true friend and tell you frankly if it wasn’t good enough?”
Victor makes a non-committal noise.
“Well I’m being a friend, I’m telling you frankly you’re being an idiot.”
Victor feels ashamed to be scolded this way. He wants to reply but he glances up and sees Makkachin sleeping in the mess that is his apartment, the dirty laundry on the floor, the take-out boxes piling up on the coffee table, and his hospital bag, so carefully prepared by Yuuri and now open and thrown in a corner. It does look like he let himself go.
It takes him a moment before he manages to swallow his pride, hold back a snappy answer for Chris and his unrequested honesty, and find his voice again.
“You think I was happy? When I was with him? ” he eventually asks. If there is the tiniest chance to get himself out of this lonely misery that he is in, he'll take it.
There is another silence. When he speaks again, Chris’ voice is slow and sincere, like Victor knows he is when the matter is serious.
“Yeah, I had never seen you happier. I didn’t even know you could be that happy. I thought you winning the Olympics was something, but this was a whole new level. Yuuri… He’s a treasure. I’m still jealous you got him before I could.”
“What were we like?”
“You did everything together. I don’t think I’ve seen you without Yuuri since you met him. And when you were not together you only talked about him.”
Victor looks around the apartment again. After spending days trying to understand everything it suddenly seems that the question he should be asking himself is not what, where, or when, but maybe just who?
“You think I should try to remember?” Victor asks.
“You have to remember.”
Victor shakes his head. It's easier said than done. Even with all the research he did and the medication he takes, his brain is like a Swiss cheese and he doesn’t manage to fill in the holes. “People tell me all these things,” he says in embarrassment, “but I don’t know who to trust.”
“Trust yourself. Give him a chance.”
“I don’t know how!”
“Just give it a try. Let him help you. I’m pretty sure loving Yuuri is like skating for you, you’re a natural.”
Victor can’t remember what it feels like to be in love with someone. He doesn’t even know if he has ever actually been in love. “But how did I fall in love with him? Did he love me?”
“He still loves you even. Honestly you’re the only one who can tell. But I know that he made you happy. He inspired you. Yuuri... he made you a better person.”
Victor spends the next two days lying on his bed and going through pictures again, this time paying more attention to Yuuri. He hates to admit it but if both Chris and Yakov side with him, maybe there's something he missed about Yuuri Katsuki. He can now vaguely understand the timeline of the years he is missing. He realizes how much Yuuri influenced his life. How he is not just a guy he met and had a good time with for a few nights, but someone who has grown to be a full part of his life. So much so that Victor cannot find pictures of events that he attended alone after he met Yuuri. It feels almost scary, such a level of complicity and commitment. Maybe that’s why it took him so much time to understand and accept the truth. The timeline didn’t make any sense because he always unconsciously tried to keep Yuuri more or less out of it. He considered their relationship like a side event that had had no real impact on his life and his career. Now with Yuuri at the center of it all, it all falls into place. He lies back on his bed and looks at the ceiling until the night lightens. The sweet and soft smell on his pillows is fading. He doesn’t want it to fade.
There is a knock on the door of Yuri’s studio. Yuri has left for the rink. Yuuri is sleeping in to forget his sadness. His eyes are still puffy in the morning. He goes to answer the door. He doesn’t expect anyone and he has not ordered anything. He looks through the peephole. Victor is standing in the hallway, soaking wet from the rain.
Yuuri opens the door. He blinks. “Did you… Did you forget how to use an umbrella?”
“I’m willing to try,” Victor says without introduction. “I can’t promise anything but- I’ll try. I’ll try to remember.”
Yuuri winces despite himself. He doesn’t know if he can trust Victor. After weeks of exceptional bad grace at Yuuri’s efforts to help him remember, it feels unlikely for Victor to suddenly want to give it a go. Victor sees that Yuuri hesitates.
“I’m sorry for the things I said,” he says slowly. “I didn’t think about how hard it must be for you. I'm not really good at dealing with other people's feelings. I- It’s stupid but I had no idea what it meant to be married and to live with someone. How important it was. I didn’t imagine that we were that close! I didn’t think I could get that close to someone!”
Yuuri keeps staring at him warily.
“I'm sorry. I want to give it a try. If you still want to.”
Yuuri cannot help it. A big tear rolls down his cheek and crashes on his sweater. Seeing Victor again and hearing him say all these hopeful things, it’s a lot.
“Oh no don’t cry!” Victor says. “I don’t know what to do when people cry…”
“I know,” Yuuri sobs, and he wipes his eyes with his sleeve.
Victor hesitates for long seconds and hugs him awkwardly. It’s stiff and impersonal and for a minute it makes Yuuri cry even harder that his husband became such a stranger that he doesn’t even dare to hug him properly. But hearing Victor’s voice again, smelling his cologne on his shirt, feeling his arms around him, Yuuri had not realized how badly he had missed this.
Victor waits until the sobs calm down slightly and pulls away. “Please come back home,” he says and despair pierces in his voice. “I don’t know where my things are, I can’t find where I put all my training gear, I don’t understand the things I’ve written on my schedule, I- strangers call me by my first name? I get emails in Japanese I don’t know why, Makka keeps whining and crying on the pillow. I- I’m lost. And tired. And I… I think I need you.”
Yuuri sniffles. He nods. “I’ll get my things.”
***
“Your last name is Katsuki-Nikiforov. You're a figure skating coach. You're 29. It's 2018.”