A/N: Hi again, and welcome to one of my new stories! This is a canon divergence story, where we'll be exploring those funny what-ifs and all that jazz. Viktor and Yuuri are a bit younger in this (21 and 18 at that point of time - I spent way too much time making calculations)

For the ones wondering why I'm not updating Adagio on the Ice, it's because my life's been hectic these days, with other writing projects, Christmas travelling (it's a drag when your family lives far away from you) and my finals.

This was my backup fic, the fic I'd prepared for when things turned out like this. Either way, I hope you like it!

Ch. 1. Reaching out for you

Yuuri dried off the sweat from his forehead with the towel Minako handed him. The woman was near tears, cheering and waving at every skater almost as if she was at the World Championship instead of the Japanese regionals. She had dropped everything to accompany him on his first time in a competition, but it wasn't sure if she had done it for him or for her big love for figure skating.

Yuuri tried to calm his nerves as he waited for his score, worrying his lips between his teeth and almost drawing blood. Minako squeezed his shoulder in silent reassurance.

"You did it really well, Yuuri. Don't worry about it."

His soft panting didn't completely come from exhaustion when he answered, "I flubbed my jump, though."

"But your step sequence was award-worthy. You did it so well, honey."

The announcer's voice began blasting off from the speakers then, and Yuuri's breath hitched. His name was mentioned, and he was about to say his score. Yuuri could feel his heart pumping hard against his chest, and he mildly wondered if you could get a bruise of heart over-excitement.

The crowd went wild as the score was announced, and he looked around, his mind still trying to grasp the meaning of what had been said. Minako threw herself to his shoulders, laughing like a madman, and he managed to catch both of them before they fell to the floor, but the older woman didn't seem to pay any mind. She squished him, laughing loudly in his ear, and shook him out of his stupor.

"Yuuri! Yuuri, you've won!"

A smile finally broke in his face as he grinned bewildered to the spectators. The three winners were called to the ice, where they were handed their respective medals, and Yuuri skated back to where Minako was waiting for him. He put his shoes on, carefully placing his skates in his sports bag, and zipped up his jacket, covering his costume completely.

He finally put on his glasses, sighing in relief when the world fell back into focus. He needed to start thinking about buying contacts for when he competed.

Some reporters swarmed by then, asked him multiple questions at the same time, and he struggled to answer them all. One of them looked much more enthusiastic than the others, and he seemed to have genuinely enjoyed his performance, going as how he was asking about the technicalities of it instead of the pre-formed questions the others had.

He also asked whether there was a theme for both his short program and the free skate, and Yuuri enjoyed answering his questions – he stuttered through most of his answers, but it was the thought that counted. He checked his name – Morooka, his journalist tag said – and he tried to remember him for his next competition.

"Yuuri!" Minako called for him. He turned around, and he spotted her standing beside a weird man, which was wearing sunglasses despite being in a closed building. And wow, his hair was so long!

He bowed at the reporters, apologizing for having to cut the questions short, and trotted towards them. Once he reached them, Minako put a hand in his shoulder.

"Here he is, Katsuki Yuuri," she said in English, then she switched to Japanese. "Yuuri, this is Celestino Cialdini, one of the most famous figure skating coaches of the world."

"Nice to meet you, Yuuri," Celestino said with a bright smile, and raised his hand to shake it with him.

Yuuri accepted the handshake, smiling nervously at the big man. "The pleasure's mine, Mr. Cialdini. I- uh, I've read about you before in ice skating magazines."

He grinned in response. "Don't believe half of the things those vultures say. They have the bad habit to twist reality at their will."

"Oh! Uh…"

Celestino laughed and patted his back "Don't worry about it, kid."

"Yuuri," Minako butted in, "Celestino was telling me how much he'd enjoyed both of your programs."

"Yes, boy! Although your jumps need a bit of work, your step sequence was very rich and expressive. Minako was telling me you took ballet lessons with her, and practiced those steps in her study. Your hard work definitely showed, Yuuri."

"T-thank you, sir."

Celestino waved his hand. "Please, call me Celestino. I am not one fond of formalities. So Ms. Minako taught you the technicalities of the steps in figure skating. Who taught you to jump? Where's your coach?"

"Uhm, I don't have a couch." He looked to the side, taking a deep breath to calm himself. "Hasetsu is a very little town; the only ice skating instructor we have is Yuuko's mother, and she only knows simple jumps. When we got bored of those, we taught ourselves harder jumps watching videos online and reading manuals."

"You learnt to do a triple Salchow, a triple Axel and a double toe loop combination by yourself?" he asked, looking impressed.

Yuuri rubbed his nape self-consciously. "Yeah… Although my Salchow came out wobbly today, and I had to put my hand in the ice. But I can land it in practice most of the times."

Celestino's eyes glinted at that and Yuuri felt a shiver running through him from head to toe. He fidgeted slightly where he stood, waiting for him to say anything. The older man rubbed his chin, and looked at the boy from head to toe, regarding him with a new light.

"Say, Yuuri… how old are you?"

"Huh?" he muttered, taken off guard, "seventeen, eighteen the 29th of November. Why?"

Celestino's mouth began curving up in a smile. "That's what I thought. Well, first things first: Yuuri, do you want to skate competitively?"

"Yes," he answered instantly, conviction oozing from every pore of his body. Minako gasped, as she had never seen the boy so sure of something in all the time he'd known him.

"Why?" he asked, and his sole focus fell on the boy, testing him.

Because Celestino wasn't looking for people thriving for fame and success. He wanted deep passion, something uncommon nowadays, and something he could see in the boy in front of him. He had seen it in the way he moved in ice; putting aside his nerves, his gaze was steady and focused in his objective, and he'd moved him in a way most of professional skaters had never been able to.

But still, he wanted to hear it coming from his mouth, which was the force that drove him, despite not having the best upbringing or the facilities most skaters had in their life.

"I want to face someone in the ice," he replied, and Celestino had no doubt that it was true.

"Who? If you don't mind me asking."

At that, he looked startled, and his cheeks acquired a soft pink colour. "Uhm, Viktor Nikiforov, sir. I have always liked his skating, and I've dreamt to skate in the same ice as him for years."

Ah, Viktor Nikiforov, the Russian prodigy of 21 years, who had earned the second place in the last Grand Prix Final. Of course Yuuri would like to compete against him in the ice. It was a common dream nowadays, more so in the junior skaters. However, he didn't let that answer dim his hope in the boy.

"And once you reach him, what will you do?"

"I'll keep skating, of course. I want to show everyone my love for skating. I don't care if it's here or in bigger competitions, or even in Hasetsu. I just want to skate."

There it was, that spark he'd been looking for so long. Celestino smiled to himself, relief overflowing him. He'd found him.

However…

"Yuuri, I would be honoured to help you reach your dreams by coaching you in Detroit." Yuuri's eyes began to widen at that, not really sure if he was hearing correctly. "However, I need you to be 18 so you can get the Sports grant, so we'll need to wait until this season is over to take you with me. I'll be coming for you in April, if you want, of course."

"R-really?"

"Yes. Just let me fish for my business card…" He patted at his pockets, and took out a small card from one of them. "There it is. So you remember me once this season is over."

"I-I won't forget! I promise!" he replied enthusiastically, holding the card to his chest.

Celestino laughed at the boy's antics. He was still too young, and his motivation was refreshing. He felt like he wasn't giving the boy what he deserved. He had single-handedly won the Japanese regionals with self-taught figure skating, he wanted to give him more than promises for the future, something tangible. A thought crossed his mind, and he had to supress a grin. Oh, he was going to love it.

"What about that. In two months, I will be going with one of my skaters to different competitions around the world for the Grand Prix classification, and I believe that one of them will take place in China. Do you want to join me? It'll give you a taste of what senior figure skating is like. Who knows? If we're lucky enough, maybe Viktor Nikiforov is assigned to compete in there."

Tears of gratitude pooled in Yuuri's eyes as he bowed to the man in gratitude. He clenched his fists shut, trying to repress the urge to just jump at him and hug the man – and wouldn't that be embarrassing?

"Thank you so much," he muttered with heavy voice.

"You're welcome! I'll send you the information and the plane tickets later, okay? And congratulations for winning gold, Yuuri. You deserve it." He patted him in the shoulder and smiled down at him. He couldn't wait to see what the Japanese would become in the future.

Once Celestino Cialdini left, Minako couldn't take it anymore and hugged the kid, bathing him in praises and congratulations. She felt how he trembled in her arms, but his fists were steady.

Minako couldn't believe how he'd grown so fast. He was just a toddler walking in her study what felt like two days ago, but look at him, earning his rightful place in the professional figure skating world. She couldn't be more proud of him.

She let go of him and quickly grabbed her phone, ready to call his parents and tell them about the great news. Yuuri stayed behind, eyeing the blue card in his hands. It had the imprint of a skate, and Celestino's name on it, along with his contact information.

His cheeks hurt from smiling so much, and his hands tingled for being clenched shut for so long, but the discomfort didn't matter to him. Finally, he was one step closer from facing Viktor in ice.

He couldn't wait until that became true.

.-.-.-.-.-.

The two months from the Regionals to the Shanghai Cup went by faster than he expected. He already had the plane tickets and the accreditation he needed to go in as a spectator. Celestino would accompany him most of the time, excluding the time he had to be with his skater.

Yuuri didn't mind. He was too happy to mind.

The night he'd discovered that Viktor Nikiforov had been assigned to compete in Shanghai too, his loud squeal could be heard in all Yuutopia. His parents rushed to his room, asking what was wrong, only to find him bawling his eyes out and hugging his laptop against his chest. Once he calmed down, he shyly explained what had made him cry so much, and his parents shook their heads, bemused.

It didn't bode that well with his sister, who threw him a pillow when she found out Yuuri was just fanboying with ice skating again. The pillow hit him square in his face, and his glasses fell to the mattress because of it.

Vicchan, not at all angry to be rudely woken up at 2 AM in the morning, licked his tear-stained cheeks and curled against him in bed, falling asleep almost instantly. His family left the room afterwards, Mari still fuming at his "ridiculous behaviour" – huh, as if she wouldn't do the same if she got tickets to one of those boybands she loved – and Yuuri buried his face in Vicchan's soft fur, breathing in.

He looked up to his ceiling then, the excitement of knowing that he would see Viktor in real life so soon stopping him from falling asleep. He knew he would regret his lack of sleep in the morning, but he couldn't bring himself to care at the moment.

He threw himself into practicing his jumps with renewed vigour, either on ice and off of it. Minako also helped him, correcting his posture as much as she could in her study, while Yuuko and her mother helped him in the ice rink. The extra effort paid off, and he was landing more than not his jumps, and he felt steadier in his blades.

His birthday came and went by in a blink, and he could only remember the extra tasty Katsudon his mother had made for him for dinner. After an exhausting practice, the taste was incredibly better.

Then, the day came. The night of the 10th of December, Yuuri couldn't keep his eyes shut for long periods of time, let's not talk about sleeping. Resigning himself to a sleepless night, he threw the covers off himself and jumped out of his bed.

First of all, he checked he had everything he would possibly need for the trip; his passport, ID, plane tickets… once he'd made sure that, indeed, he'd packed everything for the four days trip, he sat on his bed, not really sure what to do. He stared off at the distance, and his eyes landed on the posters of Viktor Nikiforov hanging on his walls. They'd been there for so long, since he'd put them up as a child. They were his constant reminder of where he wanted to be, the reason why he had to keep going despite the bruises, the blisters and broken nails.

He would get there someday. He would fight with nails and teeth to reach him, to amaze him just as much as he stunned him every time he skated. He wanted to make him feel in return his awe, his passion, how much he'd make him love the ice under his feet when he glided freely.

He brought his knees to his chest and hugged them, hiding his smile against them. He'd never felt closer to his objective until then, and he felt he could almost grasp it with his fingertips. He laid down on the bed again, covering his mouth with his hands to stop the bubbling giggles from coming out. He didn't need another pillow thrown at his face from his sister, once was enough, thank you.

Dawn came quicker than expected, and soon, his mother knocked on his door to tell him he should start getting ready soon. He put on his clothes quickly and ran to the kitchen, his fists clenching the shoulder strap tightly. He swallowed down his breakfast, and in less than 15 minutes, Yuuri was outside of his home, not caring at the slightness that his train wouldn't arrive for an hour.

His memory of the trip was hazy. Once he'd settled down in the train, he'd immediately fallen asleep, and he was so relieved he'd put on an alarm to wake him up when they were arriving at the airport. Once in Fukuoka Airport, he tried to make his way inside, and he had to ask twice for directions, but at last, he found his boarding gate in time.

On the plane he dozed off again, his excitement not helping him to stay awake. Yuuri didn't mind, though. He preferred sleeping in there than being exhausted and not being able to enjoy the show later.

Celestino picked him up at the airport. In their ride to the hotel, he told him that his skater, John Bane, was already in there, and they had the whole day for themselves. He then proceeded to tell him how their morning practice had gone, and how he was going to enjoy his protegee's performances.

Once they arrived at the hotel, Yuuri dropped his things in his bed, and Celestino offered to do some sightseeing. He agreed, eager to do anything that made the time go faster. He took the camera with himself, as his mother had asked for pictures of the trip – and that included pictures of the city, she insisted with a smile, not only pictures of men skating.

Shanghai was beautiful, he guessed. He snapped some pictures here and there, and he even posed with Celestino in some of them. One time he could've sworn he'd seen Christophe Giacometti from the corner of his eye, a skater that was competing in the senior GPF for the first time, but Celestino had dragged him into the next tourist spot before he could make sure of it.

When night drew near, Celestino dropped him at the hotel, saying he was meeting some coach friends before the competition, and Yuuri lied on his bed, the hours of wandering around the city and his fidgety behaviour for weeks having drained him. He couldn't feel his legs, and it was a struggle to keep his eyes from closing.

He gave a fleeting thought to change into his pyjamas, but that thought went as fast as it came, his limbs too heavy to even think about getting changed. He fell asleep on the top of the covers, his dreams full of the music that only came with skates gliding on ice.

Yuuri didn't need his alarm to wake up. He opened his eyes slowly, slightly surprised in his drowsiness that he could see so well, but then he remembered that he hadn't taken off his glasses the night before. He rubbed his eyes, sleepy, and grabbed some clothes, making his way to the shower. Once inside, he realized just where he was right now, and nearly slipped.

His shower ended soon afterwards. He stepped out, drying his hair quickly with a towel – and trying not to slip to his death again – and put his clothes as fast as he could. His legs got tangled with his trousers and he almost fell again, but he managed to avoid it gripping at the basin, panting in relief. He folded the towels afterwards, and eyed his unruly hair. There wasn't much he could do with that.

He stepped out of the bathroom at the same time Celestino knocked at his door. He grabbed his things and opened the door, surprised to see the restraint in his face. Was he hungover, perhaps?

Next to him, another man stood, looking no more older than him, and Yuuri guessed he was John Bane. He looked excited to be competing in the Shanghai Cup, albeit a bit nervous. He didn't stop babbling in all the way to the ice rink, gushing about the city, the food and heck, even Yuuri's performance back at the Regionals, what brought a hard blush to his cheeks.

"I can't wait to skate with you at Detroit, kid!" he exclaimed, patting his shoulder before entering the part of the ice rink reserved to competitors and coaches.

… John knew he was 18, right? He knew he looked younger than the guys his age, but he was no kid anymore. Yuuri looked at Celestino, who shrugged in reply.

"He's very talkative when he's nervous. He can be a bit too much sometimes. I'm sorry if he made you feel uncomfortable, but you actually helped him quell down his nerves. Thank you, Yuuri."

"It was nothing. All I did was listen."

He smiled wistfully at that. "Sometimes, that's all that's needed. You'll understand it sometime."

Celestino guided him to his seat, asking him if he would be alright on his own, and he nodded in reply. He said he would come for him once John finished skating and waved him goodbye, leaving him on his own. He couldn't believe he was seating in the second row. Those seats were really exclusive, more so in a competition of that calibre. He couldn't believe he was so lucky to be in there.

Some of the people around him looked at him curiously, having recognised the man who had just brought him there, but Yuuri did his best to ignore them, fumbling with the settings of his camera.

The first skater came to the middle of the ice, and Yuuri's sole focus rested on him. He watched with avid eyes his performance, snapping some pictures here and there, and winced in sympathy when he fell after a jump. The skater kept going with a smile in his face, his focus in his routine not wavering one bit, and Yuuri wished he could do the same as him in the future.

The man finished his performance and went to the kiss and cry, his scores were announced – huh, not bad, considering he'd had an ugly fall – and the second skater came out to the ice. It was Christophe Giacometti, and he felt forced to avert his eyes in most of his performance. It was too… intense for his liking.

His score was announced too, placing higher than the first man skating, ant the whole crowd went wild when Viktor Nikiforov's name was announced. The man skated elegantly to the centre of the rink, his deep blue costume shining in the artificial lights. Yuuri felt the air escape from his lungs as he leaned closer, subconsciously putting the camera to record.

Then, Viktor's eyes scanned the crowd and stopped at his direction, gazing at them with an intensity that left him breathless and made his heart pound wildly in his chest. The time seemed to slow down until it came to a halt, as his pale eyes roamed around the crowd until focusing on him. His gaze was curious and way too playful to be any good.

There was no way he was looking at him, right?

His hazy mind strongly disagreed, and he couldn't help but let out a dreamy sigh. Suddenly, he saw Viktor's lips curve in a little smile before the music started.

His playful smile fell to give away to an expression of pure longing and warmth. He didn't recognise the piece he was dancing to, but he would make sure to look for it once he got home.

His movements were more fluid than what it looked on video, if it was even possible, and Yuuri could feel his soul dancing with him. When Viktor bended, he steadied him, when he jumped, he jumped with him, and when he reached for his invisible dance partner, he met him in the middle. His heart pounded at the rhythm of the music, and his eyes were drawn to his every movement like a moth to a flame.

His dance was intense, but not the way Giacometti's has been. It spoke of both deep passion and softness, of secret moments stolen from the world, but he wasn't sure he was seeing something that had already happened or would happen. No matter what, it felt private, like they were seeing something they shouldn't, but instead of feeling ashamed, they felt honoured to be allowed to see glimpses of his inner world.

The performance ended way too soon for his liking, and Viktor was already bowing at the boisterous applause filling the rink. He reached for some stuffed dogs his fans had thrown at him, choosing the poodles from all of them, and glided to the end of the ice. Yuuri could've sworn he caught him throwing a side-glance at his direction.

The Japanese brought the camera near to his face and stopped the recording. The presenter announced Viktor's score for his short program, and the crowd went wild once again, as he hadn't only placed on first place, but he'd also surpassed his personal mark. Yuuri found himself cheering with the rest of the crowd, a huge smile on his face as he clapped wildly.

He couldn't remember very much the other performance that came afterwards, if he was being honest.

Celestino came to seat beside him once John had finished skating, and he asked him how he was liking it so far, and the older man had never seen the boy look so enthusiastic before. They watched the last performance together, and they made their way to the skaters' area to pick John up. He'd ended third after a Greek competitor, not a bad position for his free skate.

The Italian coach asked for him to wait at the door while he fetched for the skater, and before the door closed, he saw a glimpse of bright grey hair. He waited patiently at the door, trying his best to ignore the stares people were giving him, and praying that no one would come to ask him anything.

What felt like half an hour later, Celestino came out with a happy John tagging along. He explained with detail his whole performance, something Yuuri was grateful for (as he couldn't remember one single bit of it), and the three of them made their way out of the rink and to the busy streets of Shanghai.

Some reporters stopped John to ask him questions, and Yuuri tried to stay as far as possible from them, but they weren't long, as he'd already answered most of the questions inside.

Before they left the rink out of sight, Yuuri turned around, looking at the building. A smile came to his face, remembering he was going to return the day after to watch professional figure skaters performing again.

And who knew? Maybe one day he'd be skating in that ice too.

I feel like Yuuri is really #relatable in here hahahha. I couldn't help but pour my fangirl heart in him.