Snow blew into Yuri's face, bitter and wet. It hadn't yet begun to pile up on the streets, but the dark gray clouds overhead suggested that the weather would only be getting worse. Yuri wished, for the thousandth time, that he could check the weather forecast on his phone. But even if the internet was still up and running, even if someone out there was still giving weather reports, Yuri would never waste the precious remaining battery life of his phone for that.

He tightened the scarf around his neck and adjusted the face mask covering his nose and mouth. The last thing Yuri needed was to get sick. He shifted his backpack from his right shoulder to his left and continued walking down the empty sidewalk, where tattered Christmas decorations still hung limply from the darkened street lamps. It was late afternoon, and Yuri had to make it back to the bus before nightfall.

As he passed by a small sweets shop, Yuri paused and glanced through the window. The various cupcakes and candies were ruined, but he wondered if they had supplies in the back that could be useful. It wasn't an obvious place to look, so there was a good chance the place hadn't been ransacked already. Yuri held his backpack in his hand to feel the weight, judging if he'd gathered enough goods to make his trip worthwhile. Two cans of peaches. Three cans of smoked salmon. A bag of salted peanuts and three packs of dried banana chips. No water, but if the snow kept up they could catch piles of it and let it melt over a fire. Besides, there were at least six bottles left on the bus. They could make it a few more days at least.

Yuri stared at the door to the sweets shop for several moments, trying to decide what to do. Finally, he reached out and pulled the door open, then reached one hand inside to bang on the wall. After a lengthy silence, Yuri sighed in relief and stepped through the open door. He passed by pink shelves of spoiled treats and walked around behind the glass counter, which doubled as a display case for cakes and cookies, and came to a brightly colored wooden door that obviously led to the kitchen.

There was a moment of anxiety and fear as Yuri placed his hand on the doorknob. Before turning it, he pressed one ear against the door and listened. There were none of the telltale sounds he'd come to recognize as warning signs: shuffling footsteps, bangs and clangs, strained moans. He twisted the knob and pulled the door open, quickly taking in the room with his eyes. It was empty of people, and empty of them.

Moving through the room, Yuri found cans of fruit pie filling, powdered milk, and best of all, two jugs of water. There was a clock on the wall that Yuri emptied of its batteries, as well as a large chef's knife that could definitely come in handy. After gathering everything useful, Yuri squatted down and began shoving items into his backpack, which held everything but the water. Yuri pulled a small length of rope from the side pocket of his pack and tied the two jugs together, then tied them to his belt. He had to keep at least one hand free at all times, in case he ran into trouble on the way back.

Yuri made one more sweep of the room, to make sure he didn't miss anything, before stepping back into the front area of the shop. Cold wind struck him in the face, and he realized with horror that he'd left the glass door open. He swiftly glanced around to make sure he was still alone, then headed toward the open door. Just as he reached it, he caught a glimpse of movement on the sidewalk outside. Yuri froze in place, waiting, terror sliding down his spine. He'd come face to face with them before, and had learned how to deal with them, but it was always a frightening experience. Always.

The thing that used to be a person, the walking corpse, lurched its way into the shop, heading straight for Yuri. It had been a man, and wore the stained, torn remains of a business suit. One arm had been been reduced to bones, the flesh and muscle having been chewed off. What remained of the man's skin was pallid and loosely hanging on his body. Yuri slowly backed away and moved around the glass counter. He'd figured out early on that putting any sort of obstacle between himself and the corpses was an excellent way to buy time. It usually took them several minutes of walking straight into the obstruction before they managed to climb over or go around. So while the corpse repeatedly slammed into the counter, its rotting arms outstretched toward Yuri's throat, he pulled the chef's knife from his backpack.

Cautiously, Yuri edged closer to the counter and reached out to grab the corpse's hair. He pulled the corpse's head down by its hair and pinned it to the counter with his left forearm, then shoved the knife into the base of the corpse's skull. Within seconds, it stopped struggling and went still. Yuri released his hold on the corpse, and it slipped from the counter, crumbling to the floor.

Yuri took several deep breaths to calm himself. The knife shook in his hands as he wiped it off on some napkins near the counter and returned it to his pack. He couldn't help remembering the first walking corpses he'd seen, at the Grand Prix Final.

***

It started with a scream that stood out amongst the cheers and applause, because it was shrill and blood-curdling, like someone had walked into a room only to find a gruesome murder scene. Yuri was on the ice, about to start his routine, when the scream had shaken him out of his concentration. He looked at the audience, turning in a circle to try and see what had happened. Had someone fainted? Had a heart attack? Everyone else must have heard it too, because the audience fell silent and everyone was looking around the same way Yuri was, trying to determine the source of the noise. Even Viktor had taken his eyes off Yuri to scan the crowd, an unusual look of alarm on his face.

The scream rang out again, and in the absence of other sound, was easy to pinpoint. A woman was running down the steps of the audience seating area, clutching her arm. Even from this distance, Yuri could see that her arm was covered in blood. Even more startling, there was a group of people behind her, running in a disturbingly awkward fashion, their bodies covered in wounds and blood. They were flowing into the building like waves, spilling down the steps and lunging at the stunned audience members.

Yuri turned and looked toward Viktor. Their eyes locked, and for the first time, Yuri saw real fear on his coach's face. Viktor held out his arms in a gesture that Yuri had come to understand meant, 'Come here!' and Yuri skated toward him at top speed. All the while, his only thoughts were, 'I have to get to him. Something bad is happening and I have to get to Viktor.'

***

The streets were a little colder and a little darker when Yuri left the sweets shop. The wind gusts were like icy knives trying to cut through his thick jacket. They'd found some winter clothing, but nothing strong enough to withstand this kind of weather for longer than a few hours. Yuri had already been outside longer than he should've been. He knew there would be plenty of questions and worries waiting for him back at the bus, but he hated coming home empty-handed, or even short-handed. With the goods he'd found at the shop, however, he felt more confident going "home".

Somewhere in the distance, a clock chimed. The wind made eerie noises as it echoed between buildings and blew through alleyways. Yuri had never been the type of person who scared easily. He'd been afraid of failing or losing people, but haunted houses and horror movies had no effect on him. Tangible threats were never a part of his life, so he found those sorts of things silly. Until they became his daily life. Now, every sound he couldn't immediately identify was a threat. Every shadow in his peripheral vision was potentially dangerous.

Yuri stopped in front of a small Japanese restaurant. He'd been here many times since this all started. He had to walk by it almost every time he went out to look for supplies. And every single time, he felt his chest tighten when he stood outside the door, the familiar kanji written underneath the restaurant's name in Spanish. There was even a menu printed on a wooden signboard hanging near the door, in both languages. Halfway down the list, Yuri's eyes were always drawn to the words "Pork Cutlet Bowl". The first time he'd seen it, he'd stood crying in the empty street for half an hour.

The restaurant's door was boarded up from the inside. His first time there, Yuri had knocked and yelled, trying to find out if anyone was still alive inside. The only response he got was a collection of moans and the scraping of dead feet across the floor. Once, Yuri brought a crowbar with him, planning to pry the boards off and go inside. He assumed there would be plenty of supplies in the kitchen, and, in all honesty, he felt an inescapable urge to be surrounded by his own culture, the culture of his family.

Yuri had backed out that day when the shambling corpses inside had begun banging into the door. It sounded like there were more of them than he'd thought, and he wasn't equipped to deal with more than two or three of them at most. Now, Yuri usually tried to pass by the restaurant without stopping and without thinking about whatever was inside. Today, however, Yuri was feeling especially nostalgic. He stood in front of the boarded door and stared at the menu in kanji, thinking about the chance he'd passed up to go home.

***

"What do you mean, you're not going?" Phichit had asked, his hand still tightly gripping Yuri's. They'd been standing in the middle of the airport, surrounded by clusters of panicked people who were crying or yelling or trying to find out when specific flights were leaving.

Yuri had been practically dragged to one of the counters by Phichit, who had spoken to a disheveled looking woman who apparently worked there. Yuri gently pulled his hand free and said, "I can't leave them behind."

Phichit looked confused for a moment, as if Yuri had said something strange, then his eyes shifted to the wall on the left. Yuri turned and followed his gaze to Yurio, who was sitting on the floor, his back against the wall and his knees pulled up to his chin. The hood of his jacket covered his eyes, and his shoulders were trembling. To this day, Yuri didn't know if it was from fear or from rage.

"Yuri, you have to go," Phichit said. "This is the last flight heading for Tokyo. Who knows if there will ever be another flight? Everything's crazy outside."

"I know," Yuri said, and there was an edge to his voice that he didn't intend. He knew full well what he was giving up. He knew he might never see his home, his family, ever again if he didn't get on that plane. But the flight was stopping in Paris, and the airlines were only allowing people with French or Japanese passports on board. It was their way of ensuring that as many people as possible got to go home.

But it also meant Yuri would have to go alone. And he couldn't do that.

"I can't leave them," Yuri repeated. "There aren't any flights left going to Russia. And after what happened to Yurio's grandpa..."

Phichit looked down. "Yeah. I know. There aren't any flights to Bangkok left either."

Yuri could see the pain and fear in Phichit's face, hidden by a smile. "I'm sorry," Yuri said, not knowing anything else to say.

***

The snow was coming down harder now, flying in with great bursts of cold and wind. The sun had set and darkness was creeping in around the edges of the city. Yuri quickened his pace as he walked down the street, the jugs of water bouncing against his right hip with every step. The bus was still three blocks away, and he'd promised to be back before it got too dark.

Yuri passed by several alleys, most of them empty. Occasionally he saw one of them, shuffling around or clawing at a door. As long as Yuri stayed out of their line of sight and didn't make any noise, they paid no attention to him. What alarmed him, and caused him to stop dead in his tracks, was a group of the walking corpses clustered into one alley.

He'd caught a quick glimpse of them as he passed by, and the sight of so many together made him pause, fearful that his footsteps would alert them. They hadn't seen him as he'd walked by the alley, or else they would be coming toward him now. By his guess, there were a dozen of them, though he hadn't had time to count. He stood just past the alley, keeping his breathing shallow and quiet, clutching the chef's knife in one hand, listening to the sounds of their moaning.

One of the moans came especially loud and clear, sounding terribly close by. Yuri stepped quietly away from the entrance to the alley while watching for anything to come out. When he was around twenty yards away, he saw the first bony, bloodied arm extend from the shadows of the alley, and behind it, the corpse of a woman in a long red dress. In life, she would have been underdressed, standing in the snow with her sleeveless, low-cut dress. In death, her only concern was finding warm flesh to eat. Her vacant eyes fell upon Yuri, who was still trying to quietly put distance between himself and the alley.

The corpse in red's moans turned sharply to snarls when she spotted food, and she headed toward Yuri with surprising speed. Some of the "fresher" corpses could break into an awkward jog, but the ones that had been dead for more than a week were sluggish and plodding. Yuri tried to keep himself from panicking. He kept an even pace, hoping to stay quiet so that the rest of the corpses didn't follow. He could deal with one. He couldn't deal with a group. His plan was to get far enough away so that the others couldn't hear his hurried footsteps and then break into a run.

He only made it a couple of yards before he heard more snarls and loud moans filling the street, drowning out the howls of the blowing snow. Yuri looked over his shoulder, saw at least six corpses limping out of the alley, and took off in a sprint, having no more need to stay quiet. The jugs of water slammed against his hips so hard that he knew there would be bruises later. The backpack felt increasingly heavy as he ran, his breaths shallow, his body beginning to feel warm even as the air steadily got colder.

Outrunning the corpses was not an issue. Any able-bodied person could do so. But Yuri had to pull far enough ahead that they couldn't even see him. The last thing he wanted to do was lead a group of them straight to the bus. His mind raced as he tried to think of a plan. He needed to lead them down another alley, and hopefully back the other direction, away from his destination. He glanced down the various alleys as he ran, trying to remember which ones led where. Despite his recent supply runs, he still wasn't familiar with the streets of Barcelona. If he ran down an alley that led to a dead end, as many of the alleys did, Yuri would end up trapped. Being cornered by a group of corpses was the worst case scenario. Yuri knew that very well.
Running through the streets like this, his life on the line, Yuri thought of the mad dash he and some of the other skaters had made when they escaped the ice rink on that first day.

***

It had been crazy inside the ice rink, but outside was total chaos. People were running, screaming, being attacked, scattering like ants. A car had crashed into one of the trees that lined the sidewalk. The skaters had paused for just a moment, taking in the terrible scene, and then they ran. Someone had suggested they try to make it to the airport, but there was no way they could get there without a vehicle. Regardless, Yuri kept moving, Viktor's voice ringing in his ears, telling him to run.

Yurio was lagging behind, trying his best to literally drag his grandpa along with him. The old man had flown to Barcelona to be there in the audience for his grandson, and Yurio wouldn't abandon him. Yuri turned, intending to help, but a tall figure ran past him and approached Yurio. JJ, who'd been running in the front, had come back and squatted down in front of Yurio's grandfather. "Climb onto my back, grandpa," he said.

Yurio looked stunned, but quickly helped the old man onto JJ's back. JJ grinned but didn't say anything as he took off at a run again, as if to prove that he could move just as fast even while carrying the weight of another person.

Everyone continued running for what felt like ages, never stopping for a break, occasionally dodging corpses. JJ was at the front, still carrying Yurio's grandpa, when he suddenly stopped. Ahead of him, Yuri could see a large group of corpses, blocking the street. JJ moved into the roadway to avoid them, but as he did, a corpse moved out from behind one of the decorated trees along the street and grabbed the old man, ripping him from JJ's back.

JJ spun around and grabbed the old man's arms, pulling him back, but by this point several of the corpses from the group had broken away and were now grabbing hold of the old man's legs. Yurio screamed and dashed forward, gripping his grandpa's right arm while JJ held tight on the left. Both of them grunted and yelled as they tried to pull the old man free. Yuri and the others rushed forward to help, but before they could reach JJ, the ever growing cluster of corpses pulling on the old man's legs began biting into his flesh.

Yurio screamed. His grandpa cried out in agony. JJ kept struggling to pull the old man free. But within seconds, the corpses had ripped the old man's legs open and were digging into his torso. There was no helping him now, and JJ finally released him. Instead, he grabbed Yurio, who would have held his grandpa's hand until they were both dead if JJ hadn't acted. He slung Yurio over his shoulder as if the younger boy was a doll and continued running. Behind them, Yuri could see Yurio's anguished face, and he would never forget it, for the rest of his life.

***

Yuri stood panting in the alley, waiting. He'd been lucky enough to choose an alley that exited to the next street over with little to no obstacles to hold the walking corpses up. He needed them to move as a unit, no stragglers left behind. He made sure they saw him enter the alley, so now he had to wait until they followed him in before he could lure them to the next street. His chest ached and his body felt sore from the jugs and the pack. Fatigue was setting in.

The first of the corpses appeared at the other end of the alley from Yuri, some of them moving faster than others but overall keeping a fairly consistent pace. This was manageable, Yuri thought. He could handle this. Yuri waited until all of them were in the alley, resisting every urge he had to run away the moment he saw the first corpse. Once they had gathered into the narrow space and were heading toward him, he jogged out of the alley and to the next street over, then headed back the way he had come. He only ran a few yards before stopping again to wait.

He used this time to calm his breathing and prepare for the sprint ahead. This would be the last time he had to wait, and the last chance to rest. After several tense moments, he heard the moans and snarls of the group as they began filing out of the alley. The sky was getting much darker, and his field of vision of was getting more and more limited. He stood ready to take off, waiting until the majority of the corpses were out in the street. Once they were, he ran, faster than he had since that first day. He ran with everything he had, and when he felt he was far enough away from them, he cut through another alley and then back to the main street. He hoped that even if they did spot him going into the alley, they would just stand around aimlessly like they did before when they couldn't find him.

Still, Yuri glanced back occasionally as he walked quickly toward the bus. Luckily, he never heard or saw any more corpses, and by the time the sky was completely black and dotted with stars, he was standing at the back end of the bus. It had been crashed into the bottom floor of an apartment building, specifically, into a small grocery shop that connected to the front lobby. The entrance to the lobby had been blocked off by the crash, and the only way inside was to climb onto the bus from the back, walk through it, and exit the front bus door into the building. As far as Yuri could tell, the corpses didn't seem to know how to open or close doors, and simply moved forward until something obstructed their path. The chances of them getting inside where very slim, so Yuri and the others felt some measure of safety inside.

When he stepped off the bus, Yuri saw the orange glow of the fire they had built in the storage room behind the grocery shop. The shop itself was in surprisingly good shape, considering half the wall had caved in around the bus. There were three small aisles of shelves. When they first found this place, the shelves were mostly empty, and what little was left had already been used. There was a counter in the corner with a cash register sitting on it, and behind that, a door to the storage room.

On the other end of the shop was a set of glass doors that led to the lobby, where four plush couches sat facing each other. On nights that were not too cold, the couches were great for sleeping on, but the past three nights had forced all of them to sleep huddled around the tiny fireplace in the storage room. The lobby had an elevator that no longer worked as well as a door to a stairwell that was already boarded up when they arrived.

Yuri headed to the storage room to get warm. When he opened the door, the smell of cooked salmon assaulted his nose. They'd found plenty of cans of it a few days earlier, and it had been the go-to dinner ever since. The storage room was small, about the size of Yuri's bedroom back home. The walls were lined with wooden shelves, empty save for the few personal items they'd brought with them or found.

Yurio was sitting next to the fireplace, watching it closely. He looked up when Yuri approached, and his expression shifted from momentary relief to intense anger. "You were supposed to be back by dark," he said, glaring up at Yuri.

Yuri sat down on the floor beside the fireplace and began unlacing his boots. "Sorry. I ran into some trouble on the way back."

Yurio raised an eyebrow, the anger shifting to curiosity. "What kind of trouble?"

"A dozen corpses started following me," Yuri said, peeling off his damp socks and lying them close to the fire. "I had to lead them around for a while to keep them from ending up here."

"A dozen?" Yurio asked. "I haven't seen that many together since the first few days."

Yuri nodded as he slipped off his jacket and stretched out his legs, trying to get comfortable. He turned to Yurio and motioned for him to reach him some of the salmon that was cooking on the fire. "Where are the others?"

Yurio frowned as he got a plate from the closest shelf and used a fork to grab a few pieces of meat. He reached it to Yuri and said, "Phichit saw that light in the window across the street again. He thinks someone has a generator. They left to go ask if we could borrow some power to charge our phones or take a hot shower."

"And you decided to stay behind?"

Yurio shrugged. "I guess they thought the two most charming guys in the group should be the ones asking strangers for help."

Yuri smiled, and the action felt strange and foreign to him. "That makes sense."

"Still, I don't get why Phichit is so desperate to charge his phone. It's not like there's any service," Yurio said, leaning his back against the wall behind him.

"His phone was a big part of his life," Yuri said.

Yurio snorted. "Yeah, right. I asked him about it today and you know what he said? He said he wants to record everything that's happening so he can upload it after all of this is over. I told him most of his followers are probably dead by now. You should've seen him. I'd never seen that guy look like he wanted to punch someone before."

"You shouldn't say things like that," Yuri said, his tone slightly stern, "even as a joke."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Yurio said dismissively.

Just then they heard the sound of the bus door opening. "I guess everyone's home now," Yuri said, getting to his feet. Yurio rolled his eyes.

Yuri didn't bother putting his socks back on before walking toward the shop to greet the others. The door between the storage room and the shop opened before he got to it, and Phichit walked through. He smiled at Yuri. "Hey, you're back!"

"You're back too," Yuri said. "Did you find out who has the light?"

Phichit grinned. "We sure did. There's a nice old lady living alone in an apartment over there. She said we could charge our phones and take showers once a week if we want."

"That's great," Yuri said, and he meant it. Then he looked behind Phichit. "Where's-"

"Hey, Yuri," a voice said. "Did you find anything good today?"

Yuri watched as JJ stepped into the storage room. Even after weeks without a shower and careful food rationing, the man still looked amazing. Yuri began telling them about his day, about what supplies he'd found in the sweets shop, about the group of corpses he'd led away. And after they were done talking, Yuri put back on his now-dry socks and walked into the lobby. It was cold, but it was quiet, and Yuri could be alone. He sat down on one of the couches and pulled his phone from his pocket. Now that he knew he could charge it up later, he felt like it was okay to use some of the battery power he'd been saving.

When he turned it on, the wallpaper of him and Viktor standing side by side in Yuri's back yard in Japan greeted him. He opened the gallery and looked through the pictures he'd saved, of his home, his parents, Minako-sensei, the triplets, Makkachin, and, dominating most of them, Viktor. Yuri's eyes became wet as he stared at Viktor's image. Viktor skating on the rink Yuri grew up using. Viktor curled up in Yuri's bed. Viktor eating a pork cutlet bowl. Viktor holding Makkachin like a baby. And despite Yuri's best efforts to suppress them, the memories of that first horrible day came flooding back into his mind.

***

They were trapped in the rink area, hiding beneath the audience seats. Viktor and Yuri had met up with Yurio, his grandfather, JJ, Phichit, and Chris. They watched as crazed people, whom they would later realize were the dead still walking the Earth, attacked and devoured every person they could catch. The exit was blocked by hordes of them, so the only option left was to escape via the parking garage. But to get there, they would have to make it back through the dressing room hallway without being caught.

"We can make it, I know we can!" Phichit whispered enthusiastically. His cheery optimism was actually comforting.

Yuri did a rough count of the attackers wandering around the rink between them and the doorway to the dressing rooms. There were at least thirty, though not all of them were directly in their path. "I don't know, there's an awful lot of them," he said.

JJ lightly patted his back. "Don't worry. We're a lot faster than them. Look, they're pretty slow. We can outrun them."

Yurio shot JJ a glare. "My grandpa can't outrun them! He's old and he has a bad back."

"I think we should try," Chris said. "We can help carry your grandpa."

Yuri looked to Viktor, who looked worried. A drop of sweat slid down his brow. "I think we should try too," Viktor said, looking straight at Yuri.

In the end, they decided to make a run for it. Viktor had a broken broom handle that he'd found discarded nearby, which he'd earlier used to knock one of the attackers away. Yurio was clutching one ice skate. They waited until most of the attackers had their backs turned or didn't seem to be paying attention, and then they ran.

They made it to the dressing room hall without any serious problems, except that a group of the attackers had followed them into the hallway. They kept running, heading for the double glass doors at the end that would lead to a stairwell to the parking garage. The hallway was thankfully empty as they sprinted through. As they neared the end, Yuri noticed that Viktor was slowing down and, now that he was looking, he realized Viktor was limping.

By that point, they had reached the doors and JJ had flung them open. Chris and Yurio pulled Yurio's grandpa through and Yuri turned to Viktor, reaching out a hand to grab him by the arm. If Viktor was injured, Yuri would simply carry him.

Viktor jerked his arm free, and instead pulled Yuri's entire body into an embrace. "I love you," he whispered against Yuri's ear. "I'll always love you."

Yuri pulled back in alarm. "Viktor? What's wrong?"

Viktor kissed him lightly on his face and then shoved Yuri through the doors. As Yuri whirled around to come back, Viktor shut both the doors and slid the broken broom handle through the door handles, effectively blocking the way. Yuri banged and shoved on the glass desperately, screaming, "Viktor! What are you doing?! Open the doors!"

"If they have something to eat, they won't follow you into the parking garage," Viktor said, as if he was explaining a difficult jump.

That was when the full horror of the situation dawned on Yuri. He threw himself against the doors, trying to break the glass. "No, no, no! You can't!" he cried, even as Yurio and Phichit tried to pull him away. Behind Viktor, Yuri could see the herd of attackers getting ever closer.

Viktor gave him a weak smile and pulled up his left pant leg to show his ankle. It was red, swollen, and turned at an odd angle. It looked broken. "I won't be a burden to you," Viktor said, his face suddenly stern. "I won't be the reason you die. Now run!"

Yuri had his forehead pressed against the glass. He turned his head back and forth. "No," he said, "I won't leave you. We'll die together!"

"I don't want us to die together!" Viktor screamed, and the sudden harshness of his tone shocked Yuri. He'd never heard Viktor's voice sound like that before. "I want you to live!"

Yuri didn't know what to say to that. He stood rooted to the spot, tears pooling in his eyes and dripping down his cheeks.

Viktor's face softened. "Yuri, please. I know this is selfish and cruel, but I've always done whatever I want. Let me be selfish one last time."

Yuri still refused to move. How could he? How could he abandon the most important person in his life? His mind couldn't fathom his life without Viktor's voice, Viktor's embraces. He couldn't imagine a world without Viktor in it.

Viktor looked behind him, at who, Yuri wasn't sure, and said, "Get him away from here."

Yuri felt several arms hooking around his torso and his arms, pulling him away from the glass doors. He struggled and screamed, his throat going raw, as he watched Viktor's face through the glass growing more and more distant, and finally disappear as someone bodily dragged Yuri down the stairs to the garage.

***

Now, swiping through the photos of Viktor on his slowly dying phone, Yuri felt the enormity of regret. He had many about that day, but one stood out above all others. Viktor had told him he loved him for the first, and last, time. And Yuri, in his panic and desperation to change Viktor's mind, had never said it back.

Yuri wiped his eyes and turned off his phone. He had to be strong now, for Yurio and Phichit, and even for JJ, who was finally beginning to let the exhaustion show through his brave facade. He still clearly remembered what Chris, who ended up catching a flight back to Switzerland, had told him in the parking garage that day: "Viktor did this for you. Don't let it be for nothing."

And those words propelled Yuri through the streets that day, and every day since. Because the only thing crueller than Viktor dying for him, was Viktor dying for nothing. Yuri would live. He would force himself to be brave, to protect his friends. Because it was the only way to protect Viktor's legacy.

Yuri pushed the phone back into his pocket and walked back through the shop, to the storage room where the others were eating canned salmon around the fireplace. Phichit smiled at him and patted the floor, inviting Yuri to sit down. JJ was telling an outlandish story from his youth and Yurio was pretending to be asleep, but occasionally opening one eye to glare at JJ when the story got too crazy. Yuri sat down among them and felt, to his very core, warm.