Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"What do you mean? You're kicking me out? I'm a gold medallist! I have hopes for the Olympics next year, an actually-a year before Viktor won the Olympics, right, Yakov?" In response to this, he shook his head.

"You're no Viktor Nikiforov."

Yuri's heart dropped into his stomach. Although Viktor had been no idol for him growing up the way he had for Yuuri, he'd always been someone he was impressed by and had attempted to defeat. He'd beat his scores at fifteen. Fifteen! How dare they do this to him?

Lilia nodded. "He has a point, Yuri. You've been, well, a little brat."

"WHAT?!" Yuri screeched. "Since when?"

Yakov chuckled mirthlessly. "You are kidding, right? Since forever. Besides, Lillia and I have certain...plans, to make." Yuri's eyebrows furrowed in confusion when the glint of two gold rings caught his attention all of a sudden. Oh.

It all made sense now, like slotting the last puzzle piece into a jigsaw. He was simply an inconvenience to them, and that's all he'd ever been, perhaps. Just a way of upholding Yakov's reputation after his infamous former student retired to coach another ice skater, one whom he was obviously in love with. Maybe Yuri had been a pawn on a chessboard, not a person. A way of making them look good, serving to rake in plenty of money. Besides, he wouldn't want to get in the way of their second wedding, would he?

"Fine," he barked bitterly. "I understand perfectly well why the hell I'm not wanted here. You were using me all along, weren't you? You didn't see me. You saw talent. You saw a star. You didn't see a person, a real human being, throughout all of this. I am not disposable, like garbage, but you still treat me as such. I'm sure the media will have a field day with this-can you imagine?"

Admittedly, it was a last-ditch, desperate attempt to make the pair panic and change their minds at the last minute, but deep down inside, Yuri was fully aware that their minds were already made up on this matter; they would not have summoned him otherwise if they had not come to a decision. That's just what they were like. Cold, calculated, pragmatic. He could not imagine them in a happy marriage together after their divorce, somehow, even though, of course, they liked each other well enough again these days.

"We've asked the media not to get involved," Yakov revealed. "It's regarded as a private business."

Yuri let out a derisive snort. "You really think they'll listen to that? They're bloodthirsty, I swear. They'll hunt me down, you know they will, and bombard me with questions. Like they always do. They won't do what you tell them to do, Yakov."

"Unless money changed hands, of course," Lilia added, her mouth drawn in a thin line. Her cheeks were flushed, with what appeared to be guilt, yet he knew she probably possessed no such emotion in her.

"You're buying their silence? Nice one."

Lilia rolled her eyes and ignored him. Yakov spoke tersely. "Pack your bags, please. You've been nothing but a nuisance this whole time. You've won gold now. Good luck finding a coach who can guide you through the Olympics. You're just as ambitious as Viktor was at your age, but that's not always a good thing. You lack the passion, and the right attitude, to make it big-time the way he did."

Yuri's jaw dropped. He was unable to believe what he was hearing. "But I have made it big! I've already beaten all of his records, at the age of fifteen! I've shown potential. I've shown promise. I've shown persistence. What more do you need?"

Yakov shook his head. "Another 'p' word, Yuri. Passion. As I said, you lack it. Your routines are technically brilliant, and sometimes involve it, but your head isn't always in the right place. You'd only get in the way of us, anyway. Just go. I'm sorry that we have to do this to you."
He didn't sound sorry at all.

“I don’t understand,” Yuri interjected, panic only beginning to set in now. “Where will I go? What will I do?”

His former coach simply shrugged. “It’s up to you, boy. You’re not our issue anymore.” His cold nature towards him angered him to no end. What happened to loyalty, to caring about someone? Okay, so he wasn’t exactly one for affection, but Yuri Plisetsky was hardly an ice cube or a heartless monster. He knew that being cared for felt good. Being cared for meant people promising to be there for you, and keeping that promise, it was him, at five years old, being wrapped up in a warm blanket, clutching his teddy bear as he drifted off to sleep, it was his grandfather’s excellent cooking. It was family. It was home.

Yakov and Lilia had pushed him to be the best from day one. It had never been about caring for him, not once. It didn’t feel that way, at least. This confirmed it. "How could you possibly do this to me? What am I going to do?" He was greeted with dead silence. "Well?! ANSWER ME!"

"As he said, it's up to you," Lilia said, waving her hand at him in a dismissive manner. "I'm sure someone will be willing to take you in... if they can tolerate you, that is."

Tolerate him? What did she mean? He knew he wasn't always the friendliest person, or the nicest guy in the room, to put it mildly. But he was determined and hard-working, and that was ultimately what got you ahead in life, wasn't it? It was what had won him his gold medal. Why wasn't it enough to win people over? Did his demeanour have to exude cheerfulness the way the other skater's demeanours did? Did he really need to act like Phichit Chulanont, so bubbly all the time, or have the seductive appeal of Christophe Giacometti? Come to think of it, maybe not the latter. He was only fifteen, after all. No wonder Victor hadn't assigned him the 'Eros' dance, even though his crazy fangirls would have no doubt gone ballistic over it. That innocence crap, though irritating, had definitely been more age-appropriate, in hindsight.

Still, did he need to be a happy person to be a successful skater? No. So why did they act as he did? Was he really such a burden on them? He knew he tended to shut people out, to snap and swear at them, to treat them poorly sometimes. Sometimes, he played his music too loud, or snuck out at night for a walk to clear his head, or cried because he missed his grandfather, his home, his sense of family and the feeling of belonging anywhere that wasn't cool hard ice. Was that a crime? He didn't think so, but maybe they did, and that was the issue. He just couldn't believe he was being abandoned. Again. His blood boiled at the thought of their betrayal, the way they had let him down when he'd needed them the most. How dare they. How dare they! He was Yuri Fucking Plisetsky. He'd show them what a mistake this rash decision of theirs was. He didn't know how, just that he would. Anger coursed through his veins as though it were his lifeblood. They were causing him all this suffering, and the worst thing of all was that they didn't even care. Bastards.

"Fine. Fuck you both!" Yuri yelled, storming out of the room as dramatically as possible, and giving them both the middle finger. His only possessions could be found sprawled across his bedroom floor, or otherwise hung on his wardrobe, taking up his walls or rammed into his animal print suitcase. He muttered to himself as he worked, words such as 'freaks' and 'fucking losers' being hurled about with easy fury, his angry words rolling off his tongue like fire.

After approximately half an hour of ranting to himself about how goddamn unfair this was, how he of all people didn’t deserve this, how surely, he couldn’t be so worthless or useless or replaceable that he was only destined to be tossed around from place to place, used by everybody and wanted by nobody, he was finally done with his packing, the room looking surprisingly vulnerable and naked now that it was stripped bare and empty (bar him and his suitcase, obviously). Maybe, if they were going to treat him like some hopeless kid, he was better off without them anyway. He could be successful without them; he was certain of it. He was talented, self-disciplined, motivated-and, disregarding what Yakov had told him completely, because screw Yakov-passionate.

Ice skating was his talent, his career, his life. How could he be denied coaching and shelter, stability, like this? It infuriated him to no end. He stood still for a second, letting his emotions consume him, before squeezing his eyes shut and taking a deep breath. He would not give them the satisfaction of seeing him cry. Not today, not ever.

Shakily, he made his way to the living room, where Yakov and Lilia were stood waiting for him, their faces expectant.

"That took a while," Lilia observed, stating the obvious.

"And?" Yuri hissed. "So what?" After today, he'd no longer be in their charge, so did manners actually matter given what they'd just done to him?

"Yuri, that's enough," Yakov responded; his eagle-like face stern. "We're sorry to see you go."

He snorted at this. "No, you're not. You're not sorry at all." A pregnant pause followed his words, and that was the only confirmation he needed that his suspicions were true-they didn't care about him, after all. "Right. I'm going. Have a nice life together, придурки. Goodbye!"

Yakov's face turned an ugly shade of beetroot, and Lilia was shaking her head in disappointment at the insult. Okay, so calling them ‘assholes’ had been quite rude of him, but Yuri was about as sorry for it as they were to watch him leave.

"Goodbye, Yuri." Yakov practically spat out, his face stone cold.

"Good luck for the future," Lilia added. her tone of voice was near enough devoid of emotion. Yuri pushed down the sense of hurt and betrayal he felt, swallowing thickly and turning away, slamming the door behind them. Fuck you both, he thought for the second time that day as he stormed out of their place, dragging his suitcase behind him angrily. After a few minutes of aimless walking through the bright, cold morning air, it hit him that he'd really been kicked out. The questions that had been running through his mind earlier on that day returned to him. Where would he go? What would he do? He thought about his grandfather, Nikolai. He needed to know about this.

His grandfather had always been there for him, no matter what. Through thick and thin, the good and the bad, you name it, he was there. However, his back problems had unfortunately taken a toll upon his health in the past years, and there had been some days in which the man had struggled to so much as get out of bed, which made Yuri think that perhaps he couldn't help him out of this situation. Nonetheless, he had to try to explain what was going on. He didn't want him finding him through Yakov and Lilia, who would only tell him a twisted version of the tale. With his mind now made upon the matter, he whipped his phone out of his pocket and dialled Nikolai, who answered on the second ring.

"Hello?" The familiarity of his voice forced a small smile out of him; finally, a reminder of the family; safety; stability; love; home.

"Dedushka!" Try as he might, he couldn't mask the affection in his voice. At the end of the day, his grandfather seemed to be one of the only people in the world who actually cared about him. His fans didn't count. They didn't know him. But his grandpa did. "How are you?" As much as he usually liked to cut out what he regarded as 'meaningless crap' in a conversation, such as small talk, he knew it mattered to the man to have a polite, decent conversation.

"I'm alright," Nikolai responded. "My back's been playing up recently, Yuratchka, but I'll be fine, I'm sure. Don't worry about me."

Yet Yuri always did every time. He didn't think he would stop doing so any time soon; that's what people did when they cared about someone. Unlike Yakov and Lilia, Yuri thought bitterly, reminding himself of why he'd needed to make this phone call in the first place. He was then asked how he was. As much as he didn't want to concern the older man, he had to be fully honest with him and tell him the truth.

"Not great...that's why I called, actually." He tapped his fingers on his jeans repeatedly, a form of self-soothing he'd discovered not so long ago.

"Oh no, my Yurotchka, what is it?!" He could hear the panic in Nikolai's voice and resented the fact that he'd caused it. "Did you have a panic attack again?"

Oh right. That. He hardly needed a reminder of it. A few months ago, he'd experienced a panic attack and mistakenly believed he was dying. It had been a terrifying experience for him, and not one that he wished to repeat any time soon. No, it wasn't that it was possibly worse, because, although horrible, his panic attack had been temporary. A passing thing. Not like this situation he found himself stuck in.

"No, grandpa. The thing is...Yakov and Lilia might have...kicked me out of the apartment?" Yuri revealed, holding the phone away from his ear just as Nikolai let out a cry of surprise.

"What!? I thought they were supposed to look after you; I thought they cared about you."

"Apparently not. "

Nikolai heaved a deep sigh. What was it with other adults and leaving his grandson behind? He really didn't understand it-he was a good kid and a smart, talented one at that. Why was he treated like this? "I'm so sorry to hear that, Yuratchka. That must hurt."

Yuri shrugged, although his grandfather obviously couldn't see him do so. What was he supposed to say? That the loss of what he'd once been guaranteed had shattered his ego and bruised his soul? That his heart was breaking because he had no idea if he could even attend the Olympics the following year? No, of course not. He didn't want to worry the man more than he already had done and become a burden.

"It's fine. Don't worry about me. The only thing is, that I have nowhere to go. I can't live with you and Potya, I know, or anything, so..."
There was a pause as Nikolai considered Yuri's options. After about ten seconds, he managed to come up with a suggestion. "Why don't you go and stay with Mila? I know sometimes you can't stand her, but she's a lovely girl, isn't she? She'd look out for you, I'm sure. Doesn't she live twenty minutes away from Yakov and Lilia's?"

That was true. Yuri considered it, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "I suppose so," he conceded after a minute of weighing up his options. "The hag does get on my nerves all the time, though."

"Yurotchka!" Nikolai admonished, shocked. "You can't go round calling her that! Have some respect, for once."

Yuri flushed and scratched the back of his neck. Even though he could tolerate it just fine with other people, he hated it when his grandfather told him off. It felt more like a personal attack than when anybody else did it. "Sorry, grandpa. I won't call her that in the future." A blatant lie. No wonder Yakov and Lilia didn't like him, he was a disrespectful, compulsive liar. "I think staying with her might be my best option at the moment, you're right."

At this, his grandfather chuckled. "You know I'm always right. Anyway, whatever you do, try your best to avoid Yakov and Lilia, at least until things have blown over. No doubt you weren't so polite or respectful towards them."

"You could say that, yes." His tone was somewhat sheepish, although he had no regrets about what he did. "But they're the ones that kicked me out of their place!"

He knew that his grandfather couldn't really argue with that. "I suppose so, but there's no need to hold resentment or bitterness in your heart or to act out in a hateful manner towards either of them, you understand me?"

"But-"

"Hatred hardens the heart, Yurotchka. Never forget that."

He sighed, reluctantly agreeing with him. "I won't, grandpa."

"Good." They had nothing else to say to each other-they'd spoken only a few days prior.

"Tell Potya I said 'hi'," Yuri said, breaking the awkward silence that had settled between the two of them.

"I will." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "She loves you, and I love you, too. You're stronger than you know, Yurotchka. You'll get through this, I promise."

Nikolai clicked off, satisfied that their conversation had ended, and leaving Yuri feeling slightly better and more hopeful than he had been before calling him. Mila may be irritating and all, but she could be a lifesaver when he needed her to be. As long as he wasn't going to be bothering her, she should have no problem with him staying with her for a bit, until he could find his feet, anyway. He'd pay her if he had to, so long as he could be guaranteed the safety of warmth and shelter. That's what mattered now. Something he'd taken for granted before, and hopefully would never take for granted again.

Steeling himself to message her (and make himself come across as vulnerable and helpless, which he currently was), he took a deep breath and contacted her.

Yurio
Hey Mila, I need your help.
Mila
You do? Xx
Yurio
Yep.
Mila
What type of help? Xx
Yurio
Can I come over to yours for a bit to explain it to you?
Mila
Sure thing! Xx
Yurio
I know where the building is, but what floor are you on again?
Mila
Oh Yurio, so forgetful, aren't you? Just teasing, of course! I live on the tenth floor, in Apartment 122 (the third one along) Xx
Yurio
Okay, thanks. I'll be over in the next fifteen minutes. Be ready.
Mila
Yurio, you're so dramatic sometimes! What is it??? Xx
Yurio
Look, it's complicated. I'll tell you later, alright?
Mila
Alright, see you soon :) Xx
Yurio
Yeah. See you soon
Seen at 11:39 am

He sighed, slightly irritated at the smiley face and the two kisses Mila always added to the end of her messages. He couldn't explain why it got on his nerves, exactly; it just did. She was too perky and bubbly all the time, maybe that was the issue with her. Or the fact that she loved to tease him constantly, always referring to him as her 'little brother', when she knew full well that it irked him. Still, what other choice did he have? Sure, he might have a few options, but this one was the most practical and the easiest because there was no way in hell that Yuri Plisetsky was giving up on his dream of winning the Olympics.

Given that, he set off, shivering as he went despite his coat offering him sufficient protection from the cold. Only his thoughts were present to keep him company through the biting cold, and that provided him with no comfort whatsoever. Had it been all his fault that he was kicked out, or were Yakov and Lilia just being unreasonable, the way adults often were with him? Was he as unfriendly and prickly as they were making him out to be, or just an inconvenience now that he'd helped them uphold their reputations? Had he not won, it would have been a shame for both of them, given that their careers had been prestigious ones. They wanted to uphold their reputations, especially Yakov (given the whole Viktor debacle and everything) and were willing to hurt him to do so.

Well, in that case, so be it.

Chapter Text

After a journey that seemed to last an eternity, and one in which at least a dozen fangirls had asked him for his picture (he'd refused, given the media frenzy it would fuel-why was he out? What was he doing? Yakov and Lilia couldn't prevent him from making an appearance on social media). He was almost relieved when he'd turned up at the block of apartments that Mila lived in, and that was really saying something.

He pushed his way through to the lifts. Apparently, Mila lived with Sara (her girlfriend) on the tenth floor. Yuri had forgotten, given that he hadn't visited her recently. Why should he? He'd been too busy practising, but now the skating season was over, and he felt like he had nothing left to do. Perhaps skating was his sole ambition in life. He supposed it was, although of course, he loved ballet, too. Knowing what you loved was part of finding yourself, but despite him knowing his passions, there was one missing puzzle piece in the jigsaw that made up Yuri Plisetsky.

If only he could figure out what it was.

He'd been too lost in thought to notice that he'd reached the floor he needed. Apartment 122, Mila had said. Yuri squinted at the door numbers in front of him, his sea-green eyes clouded with confusion. The interiors of the apartment doors all had peeling paint on them, and the numbers inscribed upon them were minuscule-how the hell was he supposed to be able to make Mila's apartment out? He had no idea because he was hardly going to go up to people's doors to just staring at the numbers on them. That would be plain weird. After a minute or so of searching, he finally found Mila's apartment, only a few doors down from where he'd exited the lift, thankfully. It wasn't even midday yet, but Yuri was already exhausted; emotionally, physically and mentally. Why couldn't today be over already? It had been a nightmare, and, knowing his luck, his situation would only get worse as the day progressed.

He sighed, knocking on Mila's door as hard as he could. “Come in!” Mila’s cheery voice greeted him.

Unable to believe that his circumstances had got him here, he slowly prised the door open, dragging his bulging leopard-print suitcase behind him. His eyes narrowed while he took in his surroundings; the peeling yellow wallpaper, the musty smell being emitted from the corner of the room, the tacky, knock-off posters portraying the glory days of Viktor and several other professional figure skaters, the-

“Oomph!”

Ironically enough, in checking out his surroundings, Yuri had failed to notice the piles of boxes scattered across the worn beige carpet and had tripped over. To be fair to him, the room he’d just entered-which took on the appearance of a living room, with a rusty clock in one corner of the room situated next to the windows with their wispy curtains, a dark green armchair sitting alone in the middle of the room. He shuddered involuntarily; this place was a mess, and not anywhere he could envision himself living any time soon, that much was certain.

“Yuri? Are you alright?” Sara, Mila’s girlfriend, asked, making her way through the room with care and holding a box that was marked ‘Ornaments’, jerking her knee upwards to keep her hold on it.

“Fine,” he grumbled, not wanting to appear weak or clumsy in any way, shape or form. Perhaps, on a better day, he would have offered to help her out with the heavy items, but today was not one of those days, unfortunately. “What are all of these boxes for? Where’s Mila?”

Sara sighed, setting the box down and wiping imaginary sweat off her forehead (like a complete idiot, Yuri thought but didn’t vocalise out loud). “She hasn’t told you?”

“Told me what?” He didn’t like the sound of that, not at all.

She shook her head and looked as though she was debating with herself inside her head. “Nothing. Honestly, you’re better finding out from her than you are from me. She’s in the kitchen, by the way.”

Yuri mumbled a quick ‘thanks’ and pushed past her to the kitchen, where Mila was sat, cross-legged, on the countertop, with her phone between her shoulder and her ear, talking fast. She sounded excited, for some reason unbeknownst to him. It wasn’t long before she spotted him, holding her hand up to indicate that she’d need his patience for just a minute longer. In typical Yuri Plisetsky fashion, he huffed and grumbled and fidgeted, ranting on and on in his head about how frustrating Mila could be sometimes. Like, when she picked him up for no reason, or when she teased him for still being a child (despite the fact she was only several years older than him), or even when she asked him if the rumours that were flying around about him on Twitter were true (spoiler alert: they never were-what did she expect?). Still, desperate times called for desperate measures, so here he was, waiting impatiently for her to finish up her phone call already to discuss his present living arrangements with her. God, it wasn’t going to be easy displaying such emotional vulnerability, but what other choice did he have, at this point? It wasn’t like Yakov and Lilia were going to take him back any time soon.

“Yurio!” She jumped off the countertop, stealthy as a cat, and enveloped him into a warm hug, practically crushing the teenager. He pushed her off, irritated at her unexpected display of affection towards him.

“Back off, Mila. I’m not some dumb kid anymore.”

She looked slightly affronted at his words. “I know that, Yurio. You think I don’t?”

“You act like you don’t, most of the time,” he retorted bitterly. “But I’m not here to pick a fight with you, hag. I’m in a bit of a messy situation right now.”

Her face shifted, from her usual bubbly expression to one of concern in an instant. “Yurio, is everything okay?” He shook his head, swallowing down any tears that were threatening to escape. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

It was reassuring to know that at least somebody cared about what had happened to him, aside from his Dedushka. “Yakov and Lilia kicked me out from their place. I’m no longer welcome there,” he revealed, pushing his hair away from his eyes and making proper eye contact with her. “I have nowhere else to go. Grandpa can’t look after me due to his health issues, and I can’t trek from Moscow to each rink and back again, can I? Nobody else would probably be willing to take me on, but you’ve always been there for me. So, what do you say? Would you like to look after me a bit, help me while I try to stand on my own two feet?”

She stood there with a look of shock and confusion on her face like she was unable to believe the words that had just come out of his mouth. Truth be told, he could hardly believe them himself. It took a lot of processing to let the events of the day thus far sink in. “Coach Yakov and Lilia did that? Why?” He could almost hear the hurt and betrayal in her voice; an important reminder that Yakov had coached her, too, and would probably continue to coach her. Why did that hurt so much?

“Because I’m a nuisance, I’m getting in the way of their plans for their second wedding, and this year, they were using me. I always thought that Yakov believed in me, I mean, he’s been my coach for such a long time, and although we’ve never exactly got on well with each other, I thought he at least had some sort of respect for me.”

Mila nodded, understand where he was coming from. Coach Yakov had always seemed grudgingly fond of the boy he always had done. So, why dump him now? Especially after he’d just won gold after his first-ever Grand Prix Final. It made no sense to her. “I’m so sorry that this has happened to you, Yurio. You’re the last person that deserves to be treated like this.”

Yuri shrugged, unwilling to admit that actually, he thought he might deserve it for his contrary and awkward behaviour.

“Maybe. Anyway, I’m trapped in this situation now, because I’m not allowed to live alone, I can’t live with Dedushka-I mean, Nikolai-and nobody else would be willing to take me in, would they? Georgi seems to hate my guts, and everyone else lives in another country.”

Mila sighed. “Sara didn’t tell you?”

Yuri scowled again, not liking the direction that their conversation was heading in. “Didn’t tell me what?” Anger flashed in his viridian eyes. That seemed to be a recurring theme with those two, not telling him something that needed to be told. He had a feeling it was about the same thing.

Sadness flashing in her eyes, Mila put a hand on his shoulder, in an attempt to comfort Yuri, but he soon pushed her hand away. “Look, Yurio. I love you (like a brother) and all, really I do, but I’m afraid to say that Mila and I are moving away from here, to train in Italy under her coach.” In response to this, Yuri let out a choked sound.

“What the actual hell, Mila? How come you’re leaving the country without even telling me? It’s such bullshit, I swear. I’ve just returned home from Barcelona and this is what I get greeted with?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s nothing personal, Yurio.”

“Believe me, I know that!” he articulated through gritted teeth. Oh no. His frustration was showing. He didn’t need to be displaying emotional vulnerability right now, he really didn’t. Coming here had already been a sign of weakness as it was.

“I’m sorry that there isn’t more I can do for you,” Mila said, resigned to the fact that she, unfortunately, could not help him “But there are always people you can go to, right?” He let out a bitter, icy laugh. It was sharp and biting, not suiting him one bit, despite his notorious reputation as the supposed 'Ice Tiger of Russia'.

“Like who?”

She placed a hand on his shoulder again. “What about the other skaters?”

“They’ve all gone home, and I can’t leave the country without a guardian, or live alone,” Yuri explained, resting a hand under his chin and pouting. There were only a few skaters in his country right now, and he couldn’t depend on many of them.

“Say, didn’t Otabek move here to avoid the family issues he had going on in Kazakhstan, be more independent and save money?” Yuri’s head shot up in an instant at the mere mention of the man, paling a little. It was no secret to most people (bar Otabek himself, naturally) that he had a crush on him, and Mila had a tendency to tease him about it regularly.

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“No,” she told him, frowning. “I’m sure he’d be more than happy to look after you.”

He punched her shoulder, hard. “What’s that supposed to mean, pridurok?”

She rolled her eyes. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Yurio. I meant sweetly. Besides, I’ve talked to him quite a lot before, and he doesn’t shut up about you.”

Yuri moved his pale hands to his burning cheeks. “God, Mila, why would you lie about something like that?”

She frowned. “I’m not.”

“Yeah, right.”

“No, really.” She showed him her phone, pulling up her text messages with Otabek. “Look.”

Otabek
Hey, is Yura okay? He seemed really upset about something earlier, and I didn't have time to catch him around. Will you please check up on him for me? Thanks. 

She saw his face and scrolled down to their other text messages about him.

Otabek
What do you think of this playlist that I compiled for Yuri? Do you reckon he’ll like it?

Yuri’s eyes widened as he read the messages, unable to believe his eyes. If this was a prank, then it was an elaborate one, that much was for sure.

Otabek
Hi, how’s Yuri? I haven’t seen him all day.
Otabek
Hey, I saw this really cool tiger jacket that reminded me of Yura. Should I buy it?
Otabek
Hi, Yura has been acting funny with me all day today. Any idea what’s up with him?
Otabek
Yura was hilarious today. He’s just the best, isn’t he?

Yuri gasped out loud; that one had to be fake. Yet, Mila’s face was deadly serious. She mustn’t have been joking about this, then.

"Oh," was all he managed to choke out. Mila smiled at him.

“See? He cares about you, Yuri.”

Yuri shrugged. “Not in the way that I want him to, though.”

In response to this, Mila threw back her head and laughed at him. “Yuri, are you serious? Anybody can see how crazy he is about you.”

What was she on about? She had to be, without a shadow of a doubt, out of her mind. “Shut up, Mila. Seriously,” he hissed. You know that isn’t true.”

Mila’s face fell, and she looked completely crestfallen-evidently, her attempts to convince Yuri that his crush likes him back were going to be futile, and there was no point in insisting on it, despite it being a well-known fact to everybody bar him. “I’m not going to argue with you about this,” she told him, “but I’m just trying to be a good friend and help you out. Going to Otabek’s is your best option right now.”

As much as he hated to admit it, there was a level of truth to her words. “That’s true,” he grudgingly admitted. “But surely I shouldn’t burden him?”

Mila shook her head, laughing. “You wouldn’t be, though, I promise. If anything, he’d be delighted at the concept of living with you.” He just stared at her. “Well, what are you waiting for? Go on, go and find him!” Yuri dithered uncertainly, not sure whether to stay or go. He suspected that her wanting to get rid of him had something to do with the packing she and Sara needed to get round to doing, but would never admit this out loud.

“Okay,” he said, sighing. “But only because I’ve run out of options here. Not because of my crush on him or anything.”

That mischievous look from earlier returned to her eyes. “Sure thing, Yura,” she called after him, as he walked to the door, dragging his suitcase behind him. He flipped her off. “Sure thing.”

He paused when he got there. “Good luck with moving out, Mila. I hope it goes well, or whatever.”

She smiled to herself then, knowing full well that the boy cared about her, really. “Thanks, Yurio. And, good luck with Otabek!”

He rolled his eyes, but he was smiling to himself all the same. “Cheers, Mila. I appreciate it. I’ll see you soon?”

She nodded. “See you soon!”

With that being said, he shut the door of her flat and got back in the lift, deep in thought once again. He hated to impose on people like this, really he did, but what other choice did he have in the matter, at the end of the day? It wasn’t like he could go back to Lilia and Yakov, and sob and beg for them to take him back. No; he would find somewhere to go himself. He wasn’t a baby or a loser. He would show them. With that thought in mind, he wearily stepped out into the chilly streets of St Petersburg, anticipating whatever was to come next. Little did he know, just how drastically things were about to change for him.

Chapter Text

Once he'd got there, Yuri knocked on the door, over and over again. No answer. He must be busy, Yuri thought, or out. Why did I bother him in the first place? Nevertheless, being the stubborn person that he was, he still persisted.

After an eternity, the door swung open, and a confused looking Otabek appeared. Yuri breathed a sigh of relief, his friend's presence instantly having a calming effect on him. The older of the two scowled, not knowing what to think. 

"Yura?" His voice was surprisingly soft. "What's up?" 

At the gentleness of his tone, Yuri became overwhelmed with emotion, tears that he didn't even know he'd been holding back cascading down his pale face like a river running through a snowy grass bank. 

A maelstrom of emotions stirred up in his heart: anger, at himself for being the way he was, anger, at Yakov and Lillia, for kicking him out, at the universe for giving him his victory, and then taking something so insignificant away from him. Sadness twisted in his heart like a shard of ice, at what things once were, at the memory of his grandfather and his cooking, at being made to grow up so fast, at how his win couldn't even satisfy him. Shock hit him-shock, that they'd drop him and make plans for marriage as soon as he won gold-had that been their plan all along?-and shock, that everything could go so wrong, so quickly. 

Fear, at what his future could be potentially be, and the not knowing. He hated to be put in a situation where he was out of control-it was his worst nightmare, which both Yakov and Lillia knew. Resentment, at both the adults who were meant to support him, and himself. Hurt, at how easy people found it to abandon him, and disappointment, that his life had turned out this way.

He was caught in a trap, really. Mila and Sara were moving, so he couldn't stay with them, Christophe and Phichit were moving too (but they were out of the question anyway, in his mind), JJ and Bella were completely out of the question, Leo and Guang Hong Ji were leaving the country, and he barely spoke to them anyway. All the other skaters refused to take him in. He was sure that Yuuri and Victor would be too busy with their own lives and plans to accommodate for him. 

And he didn't want to burden Otabek, of course, but what other choice did he have?

"It's all gone wrong," he sobbed. "Y-yakov and Lillia, they kicked me out, and I don't know what to do. I'm a mess." 

Otabek's face softened in an instant. "They did?" Yuri nodded. "I'm so sorry, Yura. I know how much security they gave you, how much ambition and determination and hope for the future, even if you didn't always get along with them that well." 

There it was. The sign that Otabek just *got it*, that he understood him better than anyone else ever could. Rendered speechless, he could only nod again as his vision blurred with tears. Before he knew it, Otabek has his arm around his shoulder, his grip on Yuri strong and warm and reassuring. This is what he needed. This is what he wanted. Otabek's warmth and comfort. He knew that this man wasn't made of stone all along. He was human, too, and human company was something he was very grateful for at that moment. 

Yuri managed a shaky smile as Otabek let him into his apartment, which was all dark wood, plants, photographs and boxes, the colour scheme dark green and brown. It looked cosy and appeared to suit Otabek well. "You're so good to me," he muttered as the older of the two removed his leopoard print jacket, took his suitcases (which contained his worldly possessions in it) and instructed him to sit down on the dark brown sofa. He sunk into it lazily, grateful for the warmth and comfort of it after having been out in the rain and cold for the past three hours.

"I try my best," Otabek responded, shrugging. "Hot chocolate?" 

Yuri nodded, taking a deep breath in and trying to relax after the stresses of the day. "Yes, please. If it's no problem, of course." 

"No, not a problem." Otabek said. "Not a problem at all." 

Yuri simply sank further into the sofa, as if he was trying to drain all his bad memories from the day into it. Before long, Otabek returned with a hot chocolate and a smile. 

"I added whipped cream and marshmallows to it, just the way you like it." 

Yuri took it gratefully, warming his hands on the mug. "Thanks." 

"You're welcome," Otabek replied. "Are you cold?" 

Yuri nodded. Otabek promptly fetched him a blanket. 

"Beka, you don't have to-" Yuri began, flooded with gratitude to him. God, not more reasons why to love this guy. He'd been given enough as it was. 

"Oh, but I do," Otabek interrupted. "You've had an incredibly difficult day. Yakov and Lilia had no right to do what they did. Nobody deserves that, let alone someone as incredible as you. Just...let me look after you, okay?" 

Yuri sipped his hot chocolate and gave his friend a wary look from above his mug. They knew each other well. He trusted Otabek with his life. Yet, he couldn't pin down his crush's absurd behaviour. Him, incredible? Yeah, right. Plus, he was being too kind. It scared him a little. 

"If you insist," he finally managed to come out with, his voice trembling. 

"Yura. Look at me." He did so. "You're safe with me, I promise. Why don't you have a nap? I have some practice to do, and some playlists to compile. I'll leave and lock the door behind me, so that nobody can get in. Does that sound good to you?" 

Well, he was exhausted, he had to admit it. "Yeah, I guess." 

Otabek nodded, concern visible in his dark eyes. "Before you ask, Yura, I don't see you as a kid or a charity case. I see you as a human being, and one I care about deeply." 

The words made Yuri's heart beat faster in his chest. Otabek cared about him, and deeply. Could it mean something more than friendship? He wasn't sure. He didn't think so; besides his Angels, nobody had ever crushed on him before. Not when they looked past his physical appearance and came across his personality. 

Yet, Otabek was different, somehow. Wasn't he?

He certainly seemed to be; his only friend and trusted confidante, yet someone who made his stomach do somersaults and who looked at him like he meant the world to him. 

He smiled at Otabek. "If you insist, Beka." 

Otabek nodded. "I do." He sighed, looking older than his years all of a sudden. "You've had a tiring day, Yura. You need to get some sleep now. I'll see you later, alright?" 

"Alright," Yuri responded, tired of fighting his own feelings, basking in the warmth of Otabek's kindness. "Thank you again, Beka. For everything." 

"It's no problem," Otabek murmured as he left the apartment, locking the door behind him as quietly as he possibly could. Before he knew it, Yuri had drifted off to sleep, away with the angels, as his grandpa usually said.

Upon waking up, he sat up and rubbed his eyes, confused. This wasn't Yakov and Lillia's place, nor was it his Dedushka's house, or Katsudon's, or the old man's, where he'd stayed over once when Nikolai had been getting back surgery, and a few more times since then, come to think of it. It wasn't even a random hotel (many of which he'd woken up in, given his extensive travelling over the years), Georgi's place (where some of them stayed, occasionally) or his parent's, where he'd been a long, long time ago. It looked different, felt different, smelt different. 

Where was he? 

"Morning," a deep voice greeted him. Otabek. That was right, he was crashing at Otabek's place for the time being. Yuri sat up straight, his cheeks flushed. Otabek had entered the room, a relatively cheerful smile plastered on his face. He held a mug of hot, steaming coffee. Wanting to look grown-up, Yuri took it. He smiled gratefully at Otabek, and took a cautious sip of his drink, before almost spitting it out. Why the hell was coffee so strong, and so bitter? Holding back a shudder, he placed it carefully down on the coffee table in front of Otabek's sofa, as Otabek gently opened the curtains. Sunlight streamed in, illuminating his crush's features. Those dark brown eyes shone so beautifully in this light. 

"Alright?" he responded. "Is it actually the morning?" 

Otabek nodded. "Yeah. Seven. Didn't want to disturb you by moving you when you were asleep, so I left you there. I hope you don't mind too much." 

Yuri shook his head. "No, not at all."

"I've got a guest room I set up for you last night, you can stay there for a bit, if you'd like," Otabek suggested. 

Yuri nodded slowly, attempting not to appear overly enthusiastic so as to not drive Otabek away. "Yeah, sure. That'd be cool. Thanks." 

Otabek rewarded him with another smile, softer this time. He reached forward and squeezed Yuri's hand. Yuri stared at the floor, unable to look his friend in the eye. Otabek released it. 

"Take heart, Yuri," Otabek said, his voice quiet. "I remember being sixteen, seventeen, like it was yesterday. It's so hard, to figure out who you are and what you want. School, skating, family stuff. Other stuff...it's hard to navigate, but I want you to know that you're not alone, Yuri. You're never alone. You've got me, alright?" 

Yuri took a deep breath. "Got it. Thanks, Beka. Seriously." 

He stood up and enveloped his friend in a hug. Otabek froze for a second, seemingly taken aback, but he soon returned it. Yuri sat back down again. Otabek stayed where he was.

"Come on," Otabek said, once they finally let go of each other. Yuri looked puzzled. "I know we have time off today, both of us. I don't want you moping here, thinking about what Yakov and Lilia said and did."

That's exactly what he'd been planning on doing. Damn it, was he always that obvious? 

"What are we doing today, then?" Yuri asked, quirking an eyebrow up at Otabek. He was unable to keep the suspicion out of his voice. 

Otabek picked up a cushion from a footstool near the sofa, and chucked at him. The expression on his face was almost uncharacteristically playful. 

"I'm going to take you to the best breakfast place in town, then we can come up with a plan from there." 

"So basically, you don't want to have to make me a proper breakfast?" Yuri teased, smirking. Otabek punched his arm lightly, and ruffled his hair. 

"Yup, pretty much. Let's get a move on." 

"Just let me shower and get changed, then I'll be right with you," Yuri replied, grinning. Maybe, just maybe, today wasn't going to be so bad after all. 

"Fair enough, but I'll be leaving in half an hour. No later," Otabek warned him. Yakov had made sure to tell everybody how long Yurio spent hogging the bathroom first thing in the morning. 

Yuri rolled his eyes and got himself up off the sofa. "Fine," he groaned, making a move towards the door. Otabek stopped him, much to his surprise, by touching his arm. 

"And, Yura?" 

That nickname. The one that made his insides feel like jelly. Damn it, Yuri thought, tapping his fingers against the leg of his jeans. 

"Yeah?" he managed to choke out, after a second. 

Otabek's smile spread to the rest of his face, lighting it up in the most beautiful way. "Although I am sorry that Yakov and Lilia turfed you out like that, I'm glad you're here." 

Yuri's breath caught in his throat. Had he heard correctly? Had Otabek really just that to him? After a few seconds, he managed to compose himself enough to be able to formulate a response. 

"I'm glad I'm here, too," he replied, his voice hardly above a whisper. Feeling bold, he reached out and squeezed Otabek's hand. Otabek squeezed it back. 

"We're going to have a great day, Yura, trust me," he said, picking up Yuri's coffee and drinking it himself, while Yuri made his way to the bathroom. 

Yuri smiled, believing him all the way.