Chapter Text
"Good, very good. There is definitely some progress there, Yuuri! Your last Salchow was admirable. You can call it a day, well done."
"T-Thank you, Victor!"
"Skuchnij..."
I speak Russian all the time during our training because I want Pork Cutlet to feel left out, but he doesn't seem to suffer the blow in the slightest. Which in return makes me even more exasperated and willing to punch him in the face until he becomes even uglier, then back to step one and repeat.
Most of the times he would just shrug, smile awkwardly, even blush like a little girl, and I don't believe for a second he's not offended. He must be doing it just to keep appearances immaculated in front of Victor, playing the part of the goodie-two-shoes so disciplined he would never - ever! - respond to childish provocations.
"It's not very nice of you, to speak in such manner poor Yuuri cannot understand what's going on half of the time, Yurio."
Staring back at him in fake dismay, blinking fast and open arms, I portray a whole new level of: please admire the gigantic amount of fucks I give.
"Well guess what, I want you to understand what I say, not Piggy."
"Well guess what, I might be not interested in what you say."
I am seriously quitting figure skating to become world champion of boxing at this rate.
"Yuuri, he just said that this is boring. Nothing nice or fascinating. I will translate for you when Yurio can't be bothered to show his sweet side."
"Guys, it's fine, really--", oh just shut the fuck up and get angry.
"I don't have a sweet side!"
"...Unfortunately, I know that all too well, Yurio."
I tend to forget that, since he's gotten so close to Piggy, Victor has turned more and more soft. Not that I've known him for real before, but he always gave off the vibe of the cool, untouchable emperor of ice while, in actuality, he appears to have a weak spot for retarded fat dorks.
Being the polar opposite of a retarded fat dork, my best option is switching to prodigy disciple mode.
"So, Victor, how did you like my performance? Didn't I do well too?"
"Yuuri", did he just fucking ignore me completely, "Do you mind going ahead? I need a couple of words with Yurio", oh, I guess he doesn't want to discourage his beloved Katsudon too much with compliments to me, "Actually, wait, I'll see you off. Be right back."
He takes his sweet time coming back to me. I bet they were flirting again and shit or something. Bljad'.
"Say, Yurio... If I were to figuratively describe my expectations right now, I'd picture young little Vitya opening a tin of Danish butter biscuits only to find sewing tools."
As I feel my heart sink, I realise I've come to hate his caustic sarcasm more than damn Yuuri himself.
"I don't understand what I did wrong", I'm lying. I was so distracted watching him not watching me, my free leg was a mess and I fucked up the last part. I know that.
"Your free leg was really unstable", yeah, yeah, "and as usual, when you start running out of stamina the whole movement feels mediocre and unprecise. It was just a very underwhelming five minutes, that's all."
"Yuuri was worse. His performance was much messier than mine."
"I thought we were talking about your performance, not Yuuri's?"
"Well you said I was bad, but he was worse and you still praised him!"
"Are you putting yourself, a professional, on the same level as a novice?"
In my mind, I just punched him so hard he forgot what a katsudon is. Ka-pow.
"I don't want to perform to that shit. I want to dance to Eros. That Agape is so slow and boring I can't even be bothered to do better, I'll end up falling asleep in the middle of the rink, I'm telling you."
"Which would just mean you've done a really poor job at being spectacular and doing justice to a very beautiful piece of music, Yurio."
"...It is ugly."
"No, you are.", EXCUSE ME?, "And that's what makes the piece ugly too, consequentially."
I've never laughed harder in my life.
"Yeah I'm ugly. Definitely", how do you dare, "You just want me to lose", who do you think you are, "So you can kick me out of here and get chummy with the fatso all you want."
"Yurio, watch your mouth. You're making very compromising assumptions."
"See? You don't even deny it."
"Are you really implying I am being biased?"
"I am implying you don't give a shit about figure skating and you just want to get laid."
The impact of the back of Victor's hand against my right cheek resonates back and forth the arena long enough for me to feel stupid, hurt, ashamed and homicidal all at once. The change in temperature where he hit me is so dramatic I can feel the red all the way through my leather glove.
The look of disappointment and vexation in his eyes is the coldest winter of my fifteen years.
First I shiver, then I recoil. That's it.
My hands reach for the balustrade and I quit the rink out of rage and frustration at their purest form. I don't even remember seeing myself take the blades off, I'm moving so quick and glitchy I find myself catapulted in the locker room in a matter of seconds.
And I'm still trying to figure out how it is even possible that Victor slapped me in the face when he appears on the doorway, sits down calmly, getting changed in a clean t-shirt like nothing happened at all.
"It looks like I overestimated both your skills and your discerning abilities. My mistake. I clearly miscalculated", eh?, "Don't even bother coming in, tomorrow. All circumstances considered, I do not intend to coach you any longer even if you were to win against Yuuri by some miracle." Eh?
"Nezrelij", No, no, no, no. "You're unripe."
"You never gave half a shit about me", when did I jump up? "You promised", when did I start shouting? "You promised you'd coach me for my debut, you promised!"
I'm done for, I'm done for, my whole life is done for.
"Please, go back to Russia.", my head's spinning.
"Liar", when did I punch the locker? "You fucking liar!"
"Whatever you like to think."
I'm a tiger in a cage and the tamer wants me dead by the end of this show.
"I am better than him in every aspect, I move better, I learn better, audiences like me better, why won't you just let me dance to Eros?!"
"Because you don't have what it takes. You should have learnt the Agape, which I had picked for you personally, and shown me what you can actually do. But you can't", the fuck do you know about me, "because the moment you taste failure then you blame the music, your coach and your rival instead of yourself. You don't put any passion in what you do. But look at Yuuri."
The way the look in his eyes shifts to bright summer in one instant hurts more than any slap I could have ever received.
"He was scared stiff of the piece I picked for him, yet he still turned out to be grateful and humble enough to embrace it and roll up his sleeves."
I am not even listening anymore, the audience in my head asking for the animal to be relinquished is clapping too loud.
"He knew nothing on the matters of seduction and sensuality. Now, while still being far from perfect, his performances can make my heart flutter anytime without any effort. Or anyone's, for the matter."
"You just like him more."
"You bet I do", did he just admit it? "He might well be my best talent discovery so far." Did he?
"I am better", I know it's true, he can slap me all he wants, "but you want to get laid so much you don't even see it."
"Fine, Yuri", I won't change my mind, "show me, then."
The tamer lights the ring of fire.
"Show you-?"
"Da, da.", now he talks Russian to me, "Go on, Yuratchka", now he does, "show me how much better than Yuuri you can be."
The whole of my life depends on this one occasion and I do not even know where to start. What would Yuuri do? ...Did I just think that? Did I?
"What is it?", closer, "You can't get in touch with your Eros side, perhaps?"
"I can", how do you do it, "of course I can", how do you seduce someone?
"I'm waiting", closer, "Yuratchka." closer.
I recognise this scene, I've seen it before, I remember it clearly - Victor was standing there, holding stupid Yuuri like a lover would, eyes locked, one fingertip brushing his lips - which are now mine, my own lips and my own eyes, my existence at stake being played in a gamble on the palm of his hand.
The first thing that comes to mind is: imitate him. If he does what he does then it must mean that in his eyes those gestures hold some significance to him, so here I brush his lower lip with my finger, there I lean over him, closing the gap between us as much as I can - pathetically - it doesn't work at all because he's so much taller than me. I don't look seductive or sweet, just stupid. He doesn't even flinch.
The knot of nerves between my eyes tightens, involuntarily making me frown more than ever, I can't catch my breath and the second thing that comes to mind is: kiss him.
And this is how I give my one and only very first kiss away to Victor Nikiforov, eyelids half-shut, tip-toeing, but he is cold and still like a statue and doesn't react to me at all. My hands don't know what to do so I clench them in fists that dig red half-moons in my palms. Kissing him feels like being left alone in the dark.
Third and last: jump. When everything else fails, then you must try a completely new approach - running the risk of either failing even harder, possibly one last time, or finally hitting the target. My dedication is not enough, neither is my anger, insulting him didn't work, emulating Yuuri was counterproductive, so I jump. You can have it all for what I care, have it all, do whatever you please with it, anything it takes to win you over, you promised, you promised you'd be all mine when the time would come.
So "Vitya", I whisper, "I am yours", I whimper, at this stage I'd rather die jumping the ring of fire than be rejected again.
"Yuri", I'm burning, "that's enough."
"Wait, let me--"
"Yuri, Eros is about making someone fall in love with your charms", somebody save me, "Not... this." I'm burning.
I cannot read between the lines of disgust written all over his face, too dense, too thick to leave any space for me.
"Please", don't say that again, "Just go back to Russia."
Victor has left, but I don't realise until the door slams back in its frame under the pressure of the automatic hinges.
And I am left behind, my dignity is left behind, my whole fucking life is left behind and dumped in the fucking garbage like the fucking worthless failure it is.
I've never cried harder in my life.