A cover on Katy Perry’s Rise, sung by Boyce Avenue, was playing loudly through the skating rink. The ice occupied by a sole skater. His movements graceful, controlled. A routine with extremely high technical difficulty executed as if it was nothing. The sound of the ice-skate’s blades against the ice mixing with the music in a beautiful symphony. Vulnerability combining with strength in the skater’s expression and motions. Jumps high and determined, the step sequences showing nothing but absolute comfort on the ice. Yet if one observed the ice-skater closely they would see the sweat dripping from his face, making strands of long blonde hair stick to his skin. Or they would see how his breath came labored, chest rising and falling fast in an attempt to suck in more oxygen. If one looked really closely they would even see the quiver in his muscles with each movement.

The music was abruptly shut down. The blonde collapsing to the cold ice as if shot down, he laid there gasping, sucking in as much air as he could each breath.

“You’re pushing yourself too hard,”a voice sounded near the edge of the rink, deep and calm.

The blonde rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself to sit up with trembling arms, “It’s not like I have anything better to do.” His Russian accent was thick as he spoke while blue-green eyes sought out the dark haired male at the opening in the rink, welcomed by the usually expressionless face of the Kazakhstan representative.

Otabek’s gaze was focused on the way the blonde was getting up on the ice, looking quite like a newborn deer. His hands ached to wrap around the skater’s waist, to help him off the ice. Yet he knew how proud Yuri Plisetsky had always been and helping the skater would only result in angry glares and rude words. It left Otabek at the sidelines, drinking in the image of his friend. The bags under his eyes showed he hadn’t been sleeping properly, the redness of them the only indication of the grief the blonde was going through. Otabek noted he looked thinner as well and it left anger smoldering in his stomach, the blonde ice-skater was obviously breaking at the seams yet refused to ask for help. Otabek stared down at Plisetsky with a blank expression on his face as the blonde neared.

Yuri felt Otabek’s eyes boring into him, making him look away uncomfortably before looking up, steeling his gaze: “Stop staring, douchebag.”

Otabek had known the younger male long enough to know that while his words were harsh, it was just the way Yuri covered up his insecurities. The blonde stepped off the ice and leaned on the boarding as he reached for his guards, slipping them in place over the ice-skate’s blades. Yuri could still feel the way the Kazakh was looking at him as the blonde walked over to sit on one of the benches. Something about the silence unnerved him, so much so that he noticed his hands were trembling as he started untying his skates. He knew he hadn’t been going through the most healthy routine lately, yet he hadn’t cared too much. Now Otabek was here and somehow that terrified him, he felt afraid that one of his only friend’s would judge him, get angry with him or maybe even felt disappointed in him. Otabek noticed the trembling in Yuri’s hand and knelt down in front of Yuri. Plisetsky stilled all of his movements, not daring to look up, afraid he would be completely exposed if he looked up.

Otabek sensed the way Yuri tensed up and waited a second before gently taking hold of the laces, easily untying them on both the skates. He slipped the skates off Yuri’s feet and put them aside. He then reached out and with the most gentle of movements he brushed the curtain of blonde hair away from plisetsky’s face, looking at the boy’s shocked expression. Yuri’s eyes closed tightly, sure that the other would ask if he was okay and he had heard that question way too often lately. He couldn’t stand the looks as if he was a porcelain doll. The words that spilled from the Kazakhs mouth however, made him open his eyes, blue-green eyes searching the depths of the others dark brown orbs. Otabek had put his hands on the sides of Yuri’s face, gently stroking his thumbs over the blonde’s pretty face: “You’re amazing. You don’t have to prove that anymore. So while you go through this, accept help. I know how much he meant to you.”

Yuri’s expression went from confused to pained, then the slightest of smiles was visible on his face as his eyes started watering. Otabek was barely able to keep them upright as Yuri dove down to wrap his arms around Otabek and buried his face against the male’s shoulder. He sobbed, the only sound in the skating hall his heart-wrenching cries and the words he was struggling to bring into the world, mixed with the gentle hushes of his friend. “I.. Otabek.. it hurts.. and.. I.. I.. I can’t do… A-A-ANYTHING right.. everything is.. it’s falling apart.. and I.. I.. I NEED the ice… I NEED TO SKATE.. Otabek.. I can’t do anything.. and I need.. I need my grandfather.. I need him.. I.. I miss him and I can’t.. it doesn’t stop hurting,” Yuri managed to gasp out between his sobs, his fingers doing everything to hold onto the fabric of Otabek’s clothing as if the sole thing keeping him alive was the other male.

In the years that Otabek had known the Russian Ice-skater he had never seen him this desperate and raw with emotions. He had seen the male hold back his tears after competitions but never saw him cry this openly. Yuri rarely even talked about his insecurities, leading Otabek to believe that the blonde had none. It warmed his heart a little that Yuri allowed himself to break down like this in front of Otabek. So Otabek sat with the blonde, rocking him gently, whispering sweetly into his ear that it was okay, that he would be fine. Otabek soothingly kept rubbing circles over the youngster’s back. He didn’t know how long it took before Yuri finally stopped crying but they didn’t pull apart even as the sobbing subsided. It was only when Yuri moved away that Otabek let the male go.

Yuri rubbed at his eyes before silently grabbing his skates and taking a towel from his bag. He took of the guards and took his time to wipe his skates dry properly, taking his soakers from his bag and securing them around the now dry blades before stuffing the skates in his bag, the towel and the guards on top. He searched for his tissues and blew his nose. Otabek just watched silently as he watched the blonde go through the routine. Yuri gathered all of his stuff before standing up, silently walking past Otabek, his Russian accent seemed thicker than usual but his voice was almost a whisper: “Not a word of this to anyone.”

Otabek let the male walk out of the doors first. He sighed and brushed a hand through his locks. Yuri had always seemed independent, too grown up for his age. For this first time Yuri struck him as lonely and with that thought he quickly went after the blonde to the entrance, where he barely caught Yuri speaking to his coach in Russian. Yakov gently squeezed his Olympic skater’s shoulder and uttered something Otabek couldn’t understand. Yuri scowled, looking like he was about to object, but then he glanced at Otabek and he just kept quiet.

Yakov nodded once and grunted before he left, holding up his hand in a wave-like gesture. Otabek flocked to Yuri’s side: “What was that all about?”

Yuri just shook his head before looking up at Otabek, tears burning behind those beautiful eyes once again, frustration plastered on his face and seeping through his voice: “He’s not allowing me on the ice for a week.”

Otabek let out a soft noise of understanding, then cracked the faintest of smiles at Yuri: “Looks like I’ll have to take you out on many dates then.”

Yuri stared at Otabek for a moment before also cracking a smile: “You’re an idiot, Beka… also. Are you staying with me or did you book a hotel?”

“I’ll stay with you,” Otabek uttered, “Get you to eat something first. You’re thin.”

Yuri looked down at himself and could indeed see that his normally form fitting shirt was loosely hanging around his body. When was the last time he even ate? As if on cue his stomach started growling.

“How about we order pizza, you can take a shower while we wait. Change into fresh clothes. And then we watch a movie while we eat,” Otabek offered.


Otabek had settled in the living room, Yuri’s cat settled on his lap. He petted it absentmindedly, thinking about how much Yuri had changed over the years. He had grown, he was only slightly smaller than Otabek now, his hair had also grown, now settling past his shoulder blades, his form had become even more graceful, still definitively more on the petite side but his limbs were long, his waist thin. In personality he had settled a bit more, leaning more towards the mischievous side than the rude punk he had been when he was younger. His figure skating had become more refined, he had polished up his flaws in his step sequences, perfected his jumps and refined his spins, defeating his competition year after year. Gold medals at worlds, 4 years in a row. Otabek had come in third the first year. It was only the last year that he had managed to get second place. Victor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki proving to be too much of a competition the other years.

In the shower Yuri had put the water a little warmer than he usually would, soothing his aching muscles. A small smile tugged at his lips as he shampooed his hair, Otabek was here. His smile falter and he felt his face get red as he rinsed the shampoo out of his hair, Otabek had seen him cry like a child. He took a deep breath, he had the week off. Was Otabek going to train? He said he would take him out on many dates though.. dates.. did that mean actual dates? Yuri soaped up his body and let the water wash all the dirt and sweat off his skin. He’d never actually been on a date before. He’d been asked before but he never really felt the need to go on one. His training was more important, his grandfather was more important. Was. Yuri swallowed thickly and turned off the water, stepping out of the shower and wrapping himself in a towel. He dried himself quickly then slipped his clothes on, a formfitting black shirt and a pair of panther-print shorts. His hair was still soaking wet.. but he didn’t really care. He had to do something, something that allowed him to stop thinking. He looked down at his feet, right.. blisters.. he should take care of them.

Otabek had just retrieved the pizza from the delivery boy and stepped back inside, putting the boxes on the coffee-table when Yuri stepped out of the bathroom. Otabek turned to Yuri as he spoke: “Your timing is.. hey? Yuri are you okay?”

Yuri had hastily walked towards the kitchen, opening his fridge and retrieving a bottle of iced water from the freezer compartment, then opened a cabinet and retrieved his med-kit. When he turned around he almost bumped into Otabek, who looked at him with concern in his eyes: “Yuri.. take a deep breath for me okay?”

Yuri stared up at Otabek, watching how the male breathed in, mimicking his breathing, trying to at least. He suddenly realized that he was breathing awfully fast, not getting enough oxygen. His tried to look at way, to hide himself from Otabek. Otabek had other plans however and planted his hands on the sides of Yuri’s face. They felt warm and comfortable, he slowly found he was able to breathe more freely. When he found himself staring up at Otabek he pulled back and walked over to the couch, suddenly feeling awfully shy: “Sorry.. the heat from the shower must have gotten to me.”

Otabek huffed: “Don’t lie. You’re bad at it.”

Yuri flinched slightly before he quickly put the iced water bottle on the floor and put his left foot over it, rolling the water bottle under his foot to soothe the pain. His apology was barely audible, shame creeping up on him that he tried to lie to his friend. Otabek just sat down next to him and opened the first pizza box, handing Yuri a slice with his right hand while his left reached over to touch the blonde hair: “You need to dry your hair better.”

Yuri scoffed and stuffed the slice of pizza in his mouth, talking with a full mouth: “Sure, mom.”

Otabek shook his head and grabbed a slice of pizza from the box: “You were cuter when you were younger, looking at me with those puppy dog eyes and following me around.”

Yuri nearly choked in his pizza as he swallowed, barely managing to get it down as he sent a glare towards the Kazakh skater: “You were older than me! And you had a motorcycle. You went to clubs and had DJ friends. Don’t blame me for looking up to you, you were cool!”

Yuri grabbed another slice of pizza, not noticing how this time Otabek nearly choked in his pizza.

As Yuri leaned back on the couch he pointed at the TV, Otabek had turned on Netflix and picked out a movie, but hadn’t started it yet: “This should be good, start it.”

Otabek started the movie: “I’m still cool you know. Still have my motorcycle and my cool friends too.”

Yuri looked at him briefly, feeling a surge of loneliness in his heart as his voice lowered: “I haven’t seen you outside of competitions for ages.”

Otabek couldn’t help it, he laughed: “Not cutting me any slack, are you? Maybe if you weren’t this mean, I’d visit more often.”

Yuri growled and ate another slice of pizza in top speed, shoving the bottle of ice towards his other foot and repeating the process of spreading the cold under his sole: “I’m not mean! People call me the Russian fairy. Fairies aren’t mean.”

“People just call you that because you’re a pretty boy. They also call you the Russian Punk because you have such a big mouth.”

“I’m not mean! And I don’t have a big mouth!”

“Sounds like you’re also a liar.”

“Shut up, Beka.”

“Yuratchka. You should know that if you want to see me, all you need to do is call.”

Yuri’s voice lowered in volume as he opened his med-kit and retrieved his tape, taping up his feet: “You’re too cool for me anyways.”

“Who is the four time world champion again?”

Yuri rolled his eyes as he picked Puma Tiger Scorpion up and curled up on the couch with the cat. Potya purred as Yuri scratched behind the cat’s ears and planted a kiss on his head.

Otabek noted how innocent Yuri seemed right at that moment, completely opposed to the way he always seemed on the ice. Then again, figure skating was probably the only thing Yuri always had. Swept away by the sport at a young age, so good that people kept pushing him to do more, to be even better, to compete and to be the best. Maybe that’s why Yuri’s social skills often left something to be desired, he could still be very childish.

When Otabek came back from his thoughts, he noticed that Yuri had fallen asleep on the couch. Otabek turned off the television and stood up, leaning over the blonde, finger’s gently grazing the pale cheek. The blonde let a muffled noise. Otabek spoke gently as he nudged his one arm under the blonde’s knees and the other on the boy’s lower back. Yuri lazily wrapped his arms around Otabek’s neck, letting the male carry him to bed. As they reached the bed, Yuri murmured softly against Otabek’s neck: “Hold me while I fall asleep.”

Otabek chuckled as he dropped the male on the bed, earning a surprised shriek. Otabek was taking off his shirt as the yelling started: “What was that for?! Shithead, forget what I asked, just get the fuck out.”

Otabek quirked a brow before slipping out of his pants, wearing nothing but his boxers as he slipped in bed with the blonde. He pulled the blonde to his chest and held him close, pressing his lips to the blonde’s forehead: “You’re cute when you yell.”

Yuri’s heart started hammering in his chest and his cheeks heated up, he hid his face in the crook of Otabek’s neck, his tone annoyed but his embarrassment obviously creeping up in his voice: “Goodnight.”

“Sleep well, Yuratchka.”