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It shouldn’t have come as a surprise.
“We have an announcement to make!”
From the beginning, Yuri should have expected this.
“Otabek and I, we’re dating!”
After all, he always ends up being abandoned.
“Actually, we have been for a little while, but decided to keep it a secret until we got a little more serious. Wouldn’t want the press knowing too soon!”
A little more serious, huh?
Yuri felt like he was going to throw up. He probably looked like it to. Georgi’s eyebrows had shot up, and thankfully he didn’t look over at Yuri. That would just raise suspicion. Yakov frowned at Mila, as he always did. Otabek stood next to her, awkwardly stoic. Though, instead of his usually resting frown, there was something behind it that neither Mila nor Otabek picked up on. It was worry. Concern.
“I see.” Was all Yakov said.
“Good for you too. Love is a wonderful thing,” Georgi hummed. He pointedly didn’t look at Yuri. Instead, he shot a smile towards the young couple before standing and going off towards the rink.
“Just don’t be gross like Viktor and his Katsudon,” Yuri said. That was all he could manage to get out. He followed behind Georgi, hands balled into fists.
After warming up, he decided to practice a jump. He could feel Yakov’s hard gaze boring into the back of his skull, but he ignored it. He moved into position, and-
He fell.
Hard.
He missed the jump completely.
He swallowed thickly, and tried again.
And again.
And again.
A growl ripped through his throat, missing every landing and bruising not only his legs, but his hands from using them to soften the fall.
“Yuri! Are you feeling well?” Mila called from her side of the rink. Yuri didn’t need to look up to know she had some sort of stupid, concerned look on her face.
“I’ve never seen you fall so much,” Otabek commented, worry laced in his voice as well.
“Just fucking peachy. I’m fine. Worry about your own damn routine.”
“Geez! Okay, okay!” Mila huffed. What had gotten into him, she wondered. Was he sick? When she turned to look at Otabek, it was obvious that was what on his mind as well. He began to go over to his friend, but Mila reached out for him, grabbing his arm.
“Dont,” She whispered. “When he’s like this, it’s best to let him blow it off on his own.” Otabek’s brow furrowed deeper, but he nodded, complying. It was just at that moment, Yuri landed with a hard smack on the ice, having yet again missed another jump.
Yuri felt his eyes burning. If he had looked at a mirror, he would have seen the rims of his eyes tinged red, and his face flushed pink with frustration. It was like his emotions were weighing him down, heavy on his chest. His heart seemed to be beating a million miles a minute, and suddenly, it clicked.
He was having a panic attack.
With the realization, tears welled up in his eyes and he fought to push them back. He looked up at Yakov, pure panic on his face having replaced the frustration.
“Yura, come. You don’t look so well.” Yakov called, his gruff voice just loud enough for Yuri to hear. The anxiety had always been an issue with Yuri, but as he got older, it worsened as more pressure was placed on him. Yuri did as he was told, nearly stumbling out of the rink as he placed his blade covers on. He didn’t go to the bench just outside the rink, he made his way as quickly as he could to the locker room. Yakov followed behind him, a guiding hand on his back.
“I don’t know why I’m reacting this way,” The words tumbled out of Yuri’s mouth before he could even think about what he was saying. “Yakov, I can’t- I just can’t concentrate, I feel like I’m about to--” He cut himself short, putting his head in his hands as his breathing became labored.
“Do you want me to call your grandpa?” Yakov asked quietly.
“I don’t-- no, no I don’t want him to see me like this or question why,”
“Who do you want me to call? Yuratchka, you can’t practice like this. You need to go somewhere that is not here and sort yourself out. Do you want to go to the studio with Lillia?” Yachov was not the best at handling these situations. Viktor was completely different than Yuri, so the same tactics didn’t work.
Wait.
“Do you want me to call Vitya?”
Yuri looked up, tears running down his now bright red cheeks.
“Please.”
Yuri did not hear Yakov as he made the call. He simply packed his bag up, hearing Yakov’s voice but not processing the words. He tried to control his breathing, tried to compose himself at least for a few minutes, just in case someone came in. He sat quietly on the bench in the locker room after he was finished packing his training bag, just staring at the floor and counting.
So this is what heartbreak feels like, he thought to himself.
He bit the inside of his cheek.
This is what Viktor had felt like after Yuuri had ignored him after the banquet, huh? How Yakov felt when he divorced Lillia? How Georgi felt when Anya left him?
How did they survive a pain like this, he wondered. It felt like a thousand pound of bricks was sitting right where his heart was. His head and his heart were pounding out of sync of each other, but each of them hurt with the same intensity.
“What did I expect,” He whispered to himself. Yakov looked at him, eyes full of sadness. “All he wanted was to be my friend anyways. Fuck, Yakov. I really thought that for some reason I had a chance.”
Yakov was silent. After all, what could he say?
“Viktor will be out front soon. Let’s go wait for him,”
And so they did.
When Viktor’s car pulled up, Yuri expected Yuuri to be with him. Instead, it was just Viktor. He wore a soft smile on his face, though it was the same expression he had used when practically begging Yuri to win gold at their first Grand Prix Finale together, in order to stop Yuuri from retiring. It was strained, fake.
A mask.
“You’re in luck, Yurio. Today is Yuuri and I’s day off from training.” Viktor walked up to the younger teenager, putting an arm around him and walking him to the car. They didn’t give Yakov a second glance. Viktor opened the door for Yuri, who slipped in easily to the passenger’s seat. Viktor softly shut the door before walking over to the driver’s side. When he got in and pulled out of the parking lot, he said nothing. Yuri stared out the window, taking short breaths.
Yuri walked into Viktor and Yuuri’s shared apartment, toeing off his shoes and leaving them in the entryway as Viktor had always instructed him to do. He dropped his training bag next to Yuuri’s, and stood there, unsure of what to do. Behind him, Viktor took off his shoes as well, and called out a “We’re home” into the apartment. Yuuri appeared before them, having come from the direction the kitchen was in. He smiled at Yuri, holding his arms out.
“Welcome home.” He murmured.
In that moment, Yuri knew it was true. This was his home, in a way. He rushed into Yuuri’s arms, burying his face in the Japanese man’s chest. Hot tears once again fell from his eyes, darkening the fabric on Yuuri’s t-shirt as he cried.
“It hurts so much,” He sobbed, clutching onto Yuuri like his life depended on it. Viktor came in from behind and sandwiched Yuri between him and Yuuri, making sure Yuri felt secure.
“I know,” Yuuri said, petting Yuri’s head.
“I had no idea I could hurt so much,” Yuri gasped out. Viktor chuckled.
“Yuratchka, we don’t lie when we say heartbreak is the worst pain imaginable. But the thing is about heartbreak, is that if you’re lucky, you have people to comfort you when you go through it.”
“We’re here for you, Yuri.” Yuuri whispered. Yuri responded only by holding on to Yuuri tighter, his throat becoming too tight to speak. Somehow, he was lead to the couch, where he continued to cry on Yuuri’s shoulder, with Viktor’s reassuring hand rubbing circles on his back.
Yuri felt vulnerable. He did not feel like a tiger, he felt as though he was a kitten who hadn’t even opened its eyes. He did not feel like a soldier as Otabek had called him, he didn’t even feel like a fairy.
He felt like a child, and that scared him.
“I love him so much,” He said, after what seemed like hours. In reality, it had only been about thirty minutes since he had spoken last. The sobs had died down, but he knew it was only a matter of time before another storm came through.
“Do you think you could hate him for dating Mila?” Yuuri asked, genuinely curious.
“And could you hate Mila for dating him?” Viktor followed up with, knowing that Yuri hating either of them would not be a good situation.
Yuri was silent for several minutes.
“No. I couldn’t hate either of them,” He hiccuped. “Besides, it’ll fade away, right? I’ll stop loving him.”
Yuuri and Viktor shared a look. Sure, the love would fade away. But it would leave a scar. And since he had to train with Mila, the wound would be reopened many times before fully healing.
“Eventually. Yes.” Viktor finally said.
“You will find someone else. I found Viktor, and I never, in a million years, would have thought I’d be engaged to him. There will be others.” Yuuri hummed.
“I know that! So why does it hurt so much?!” Yuri demanded, fresh tears pooling in his eyes. Viktor wiped them away, sighing.
“First love heartbreak is always the worst, really. But Yuuri and I will be here for you, every step of the way.”
Yuri stared at Viktor, then looked towards Yuuri. He took each of their hands in his, holding them firmly. They squeezed his hands, and Yuuri put his head on Yuri’s shoulder. Viktor swiped his thumb over the back of Yuri’s fist. People joked about Viktor and Yuuri being his parents, but Yuri knew they couldn’t put a label on their relationship. Not quite like brothers, not quite like parent and child, and friends didn’t seem to fit either.
But sitting in between them, he knew he was safe. He didn’t let his guard or show his emotions like this too often, and he knew that within a few hours time, he would revert back to his grumpy self, but right now, it was okay to be soft. There was no need to have a guard up. He felt love resonating from both of them, and that was enough.
They were his agape.