Chapter Twelve

Once again, I had to thank Otabek for helping me. The next time my skates hit the ice, just three days before the competition, I felt her. I understood immediately, as my music began to play, what I had been missing about Odile. The reason for her selfishness and cruelty. The reason she could hurt others without a care. It was pain. Pain and loneliness, enduring and beautiful. And rather than run from it or hide it, she embraced it. And her pain made her strong. For the next three days, I eschewed all company but my skates, and swam in the depths of Odile's pain, and her strength.

…

As the competition approached, I began to feel more and more nervous just being around Victor. As my coach, he put a halt on having sex as soon as we arrived in Nagoya, since he said it would throw me off. He maintained he himself would be fine, but I sensed there was more to it than that. He was somehow nervous around me too. He held my hand almost constantly when we were out, but during practice he barely looked me in the eyes. Even when I asked him to give me critiques, he would just smile lightly and say I knew what to do.

The insecure part of me kept whispering that this behavior was because Victor was tired of me. He had his own program to work on after all, and he needed to concentrate. But each night, as we went to sleep together, he would look deep into my eyes before kissing me gently, and then pulling my body tight against him. More often than not, he would weave our right hands together as we fell asleep. And when he did this, I found the worry draining from my body. Besides which, on any occasion when I proactively kissed him out of the blue, he would go red and demand more, sometimes to a point of embarrassing me in public. More and more I realized, I had nothing to worry about where Victor's feelings were concerned. So we both fell deeply into our acting roles as the day of the Grand Prix Final approached.

Both my programs had been choreographed to be symbiotic with Victor's. His short was from Scheherazade, by the Russian composer Rimsky-Korsakov, and mine was The Firebird by Stravinsky, a pupil of Rimsky-Korsakov's. While Victor played the eloquent Scheherazade in her softest, lowest and highest moments, I would play her fiery and active masculine counterpart in the form of Prince Ivan, who saves his beloved from an ogre with the help of an enchanted firebird.

Victor said he wouldn't mind performing my Yuri on Ice in the final too, but I vehemently objected. The final was an opportunity for each skater to perform their whole soul and compete against the entire world. I held back from saying that mine was too shabby for him, instead just reminding him that that wouldn't surprise anyone, which was always enough to make Victor change his mind. He would perform what he had originally planned, as would I, so both our programs would be counterparts of one another.

By the scores, we would start with Chris. With Victor back in the competition, Chris outdid himself from last year, and yet promised during the kiss-and-cry afterward that the best was yet to come in his free skate. He scored a 94.9.

Next was JJ. Once again, both his short and free skate would apparently be performed to music he had written and performed himself with his band. He performed up to expectations, with few errors and some exquisite jumps, though everyone also seemed to be wondering whether he would have something more original to offer in his free skate, since he hadn't change tone much from last year. He scored a 98.01.

And then it was the turn of Otabek. Since his was right before mine, I didn't get a chance to see any more than the beginning, and had my headphones in when they announced the scores. Before I went down to the backstage area to concentrate, Victor clasped both my right hand in his. We shared an understanding smile. Then he let me go.

My heart pounding, I warmed up, not looking at any of the TV screens. The character of the brave prince, who in my mind was rescuing Victor as Scheherazade rather than the princess Helen from my own story, floated up along with my love for Victor, emboldening me and removing all nervousness. A few staff members alerted me that Otabek had finished. I removed my jacket, set it aside, and walked down the corridor out into the lights of the rink.

I wished I could have seen Victor perform before me, that would have really got me into character as I fantasized about rescuing him. Then the negative part of me popped up and demanded how that could ever happen. Victor was a god and could never approach a competition with a ranking below mine.

I hesitated before placing my skate on the ice. No, I told myself softly. I smiled, the character of the brave, Russian prince filling me with confidence and love. Victor isn't a god. He's my love and my equal. Maybe Victor sensed that during our last few practices, and that was why he stopped giving me notes. From now on, the difference in our scores would be the result of the effort we put into them. And no matter how they changed, our relationship – and our love – would not. This might be my last chance to show the world what Victor's love and genius could create from my skating.

Somehow, even though I should have been self-conscious, nervous, and negative as usual, I could hardly wait for the music to start. I took my stance and waited, unable to wipe away my smile. At last, the joyful crescendo. I burst out into my short program, feeling like my legs had springs in them. I couldn't see or hear the audience, I only pictured Victor waiting for me somewhere in a glade, and us riding the wolf through the forest together to safety. I was the impetuous Prince Ivan, and he was my princess.

I honestly wasn't aware whether I had made any major errors as I was performing. As often happened when I was deep in character, I wasn't really aware of my surroundings. I struck my finishing pose pumped full of joy and adrenaline. It was only then, after the music had finished, that I noticed the tumultuous cheers. I couldn't help smiling even harder, feeling as if the audience had felt my joy with me. I left the rink and headed for the kiss-and-cry, experiencing a moment of deep shock not seeing Victor anywhere nearby waiting for me. But of course, he was getting ready, I reminded myself. Instead, I had a welcome surprise finding Yuuko-chan waiting on the bench to give me a hug, jumping up and down.

"Yuri, you were so manly!" she screeched.

Hesitantly, because by this point Prince Ivan had left me entirely, I chuckled. "Oh…really?"

"I bet Victor fell in love with you all over again," she added with a wink.

"Oh…" I said, going bright red but a little smile twitching half my mouth upward.

And then they gave my score: 116.8. I blinked. It hadn't set any records, but that was my personal best for any short program. Ever. Yuuko screamed and hugged me. I hesitantly patted her arm, trying not to wish she were Victor.

Moments after my score was announced, Victor glided into the rink. Me, as well as the entire audience, gasped and fell into silence. I thought he was someone else for a moment. Or else that I had traveled back in time. He had obviously been saving this surprise for the Grand Prix Final. When he glided onto the ice, he was trailed by nearly two feet of a silvery, flowing mane of hair. Whether it was a wig or whether he actually had magic powers – as I had long suspected – didn't really matter. He was more beautiful than he had ever been. And as he took his stance, ready to begin, he was Scheherazade.

He was mesmerizing. His beauty, his expressiveness with his face and body, captured everyone's heart and made us unable to look away, even for a moment. Even, and perhaps especially, during his last jump, when the smallest shudder ran over his body as he pushed into the air to complete a quad toe loop. And another as he landed. But his acting never faltered, even as sweat broke out over his forehead.

When he finished, the audience were already on their feet. Cheers exploded throughout the stadium, and I couldn't stop grinning, deliriously happy for him in spite of how damning his performance had been for me. He swept smoothly off the ice and approached the bench. He tilted his head, allowing his beautiful hair to swish a little, and smiled happily.

"Victor!" I cried, rushing up to him and throwing my arms around him. "How many times will you make me fall in love with you?" I whispered in his ear.

He snuck a kiss at an angle the cameras couldn't see, holding me tight. "Just what I wanted to ask you after your short program. I got chills."

"Victor, in that last jump, it looked like…"

"Wait, they're announcing the score," Victor said, hurrying me back to the bench.

We sat and waited as they announced Victor's score over the distance speakers. The audience grew hushed, waiting for what we all knew would be an earth-shattering score. And then it came: 119.02. That kind of score wasn't even supposed to be possible in a short program. The stadium was awash with sound. Cheers and crying, and everyone in disbelief that Victor had managed to surprise us once again, beating both his old world record, and Yurio's new one.

Even as my combined insecurity and happiness caused a few tears to run down my cheeks, I kept smiling at him. "You were beautiful," I told him. "You deserved it. I love you."

And then, regardless of the fact that every single eye was watching the big screen on which Victor and I were currently displayed, Victor ducked in close to me and stole a kiss. "We're not done yet. Yurio may give us both a run for our money. And honestly, I think your free skate is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen you do."

Again, he came in close and kissed the tears from my eyes. He offered a slightly hesitant smile. "I was so nervous I may have overdone it trying to catch up."

"What?"

But the next moment, we were shooed off the bench by the organizers as Yurio's skates met the ice and he glided to the center of the rink. Or maybe it was a fairy. Or an angel. In a repeat of his performance in the Russian final, once again Yurio had made himself into a creature that didn't seem to be of this world. This time, it was the white swan. Victor and I both took in a sharp breath when we saw his face. It was streaked with sadness, and gentle love. For a moment, neither of us could believe he was real.

It had been a few days since I had seen him, and the only thing either of us had heard from Yakov was that he had been immersing himself in training. The results were obviously worth it, because he simply took everyone's breath away before he even started to move.

And when the music started, it was truly difficult to remember that he was a human boy. All his anger, as was his natural state, was gone. All that showed in his eyes was love and longing. Hurt and beauty. He broke our hearts.

It seemed the judges had a hard time with his score, since they felt he deserved a higher score for his moving performance. Even though there had been little at all wrong with his jumps. But in the end, even if his acting had been perfect, his jumps had been lower and fewer in number than Victor's, or mine. His score came out at 107.60. It was still an incredible score, and in any other year it would have been more than enough to intimidate the other competitors.

That meant that the order leading into the free skate would be Chris, JJ, Otabek (who had scored a 98.30), Yurio, me, and finally Victor. My heart thrummed in my ears as we went back to the hotel that night. It was tradition for the finalists to have a little get-together the night between the short program and free skate, but as Victor and I were useless, only capable of staring at one another, we both just wanted to be alone.

In the hotel room that night, I felt something a little strange about the way Victor was acting. He was a little too happy, if possible. I expected him to be nervous as I was, because I knew how competitive he was and I had no intention of holding back tomorrow. But he didn't seem to be able to see me as a rival that night, even though I definitely felt that way at least a little bit. His smile when he looked at me was adoring. Nothing else. Did that mean he didn't view me as an equal? Still? Well, that honestly crushed me a little, but there was nothing for that but to show him. Tomorrow. I kissed him as we fell asleep, swearing both my love and my determination to stand beside him as his equal.

And then it was the day of the free skate. The last day of the Grand Prix Final. With the lowest score, Chris was up first. He outdid his own sexiness, if possible, and got a 149.17, bringing his total to 244.07. In any other year, that score would be near impossible to beat. JJ went next, and even though he made few mistakes, the judges remained mostly unmoved by the fact that his program still hadn't changed much from last year. He scored a 139.9, which brought his total to 237.91. So Chris had already beaten him.

Otabek performed well, but somehow he seemed absent. He was always stern, but now he looked almost lost. Even so, his jumps were impeccable. The brooding nature of his expression even added to his acting somehow, though whether intentional or not it was difficult to tell. He ended up with a 170.47, and although I still hadn't heard his score for his short program, they announced that his total was now 268.77. That meant he had pulled ahead of Chris and was currently in first place.

Yurio was up next. I was aching to see his performance, but I couldn't. If I did, I would lose focus, and probably lose heart because I knew how beautiful it would be. As he glided onto the rink, bringing a hush to the audience with his dramatic appearance and subtle acting already begun, I stood from my seat. I kissed Victor on the cheek and wordlessly retreated to warm up and banish all outside thoughts from my mind. I felt him squeeze my hand as I left, and felt a flood of love in my heart for him.

With headphones in, my music playing softly into my ears to drown out the music of the Black Swan and the frenzied crowd, I focused entirely on my character and my upcoming performance. I found utter peace and silence there. I knew the odds were against me. With Yurio being in top condition, with an incredible concept and program, and Victor - the living legend - breaking a record in his short program, no one was expecting anything of me right now. I would be lucky to even stand on the podium beside them. Well, I thought, a strange sense of happiness growing inside me. Let's see what they think of this.

A staff member caught me and told me to head to the rink. Yurio was finished and his score was being announced. I didn't catch it. But as I stepped up to the rink side area, I saw Yurio crying on the big screen. I smiled, though in character. I could tell at once that it was happy crying. And even though Yurio was actually just about the biggest ugly-crier that I have ever met, the emotion visible in his painted, dripping, ugly face was utterly beautiful.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, feeling happiness for him and the audience's love for him still lingering in the air. They said my name. I stepped out and was met with significantly lesser cheers than Yurio had gotten just now. And that was fine. I took my stance, in the center of the rink, and waited for the music to start.

First, the gentle caress of the violins, the music expanding softly from silence. I felt surprise and attention gather to me with the kindness of the melody as soon as it became recognizable as Debussy's Claire de la Lune. That was the theme of mine and Victor's free skates which, like our short programs, were meant to be taken as pair performances. Victor was a princess, and I a prince. Victor was the sun, and I the moon.

My costume, silvery and with softness echoing Victor's costume in his Scheherazade, was accented by silver makeup around my temples and eyes, and just a hint of silver paint in my hair. I tried to catch the light with them at first, but soon – as I felt the warmth of the audience and became lost in my performance and love for Victor – I stopped thinking about anything. My body felt like it was made of light. The music took me over and all I could do was let it carry me away.

I leapt higher than I felt I ever had before as the music reached its crescendo. I felt no fatigue, barely felt anything but adrenaline and joy. Tears reached my eyes as the realization reached my heart: it was perfect. Peace and hushed silence began to fall over the stadium as the music finally dimmed back to its gentle caress. I reached my ending pose, gazing toward the sky at the imagined sun which inspired any beauty that had ever been in me. Victor.

I realized I was crying softly to myself, as I gazed up at the roof of the stadium, though imagining Victor's face. I didn't want it to be over. It was violently sad to know I would have to leave the rink, my free skate of possibly…probably…my last Grand Prix Final was finished. In that moment, I didn't care about a medal, didn't care about beating anyone, I only wanted to skate.

I didn't hear my score. When my consciousness returned to where I was, all I could hear was the eruption of excited screams from the crowd. Where was Victor? I had to see him. I knew his skate was next and I shouldn't distract him, but I ached so badly for him at that moment. And then…there he was.

They hadn't announced his name yet, but Victor stepped up to the rink entrance. When I saw him, my heart stopped.

Victor was glorious. His costume was inspired by the Russian ballet, tight from the waist down and princely from the waist up. He was all white and gold. He glittered and shined, truly luminescent to my eyes. His presence overwhelmed even this beautiful costume though. He glided toward me, like some god or legendary creature.

He smiled at me. He extended his right hand and his ring caught my eye. Even as tears rolled down my face, I reached out to take his hand in mine. All at once, he held me tightly in his embrace. I think he was even shaking a little. His momentum from gliding toward me set us into a slow spin in each other's embrace, and it was like we were the only two people in the world.

"Yuri," I heard him whisper. He sounded a little choked up. "You were perfect."

I couldn't respond. Couldn't speak. I sobbed and clung to him as we slowly spun together on the ice, half blinded by the stage lights and by love.

At length, Victor sighed a little. "I don't have any confidence after that, but you deserve my best, Yuri. So I'll give it. Okay?"

I helplessly nodded against his chest. He squeezed me a little tighter for a moment, and then let me go. I left the stage but stayed right by the rink side to watch, not bothering to go to the kiss-and-cry. Upon realizing this, the announcers fumbled to introduce Victor, as he was clearly ready to go.

I already heard people crying in the audience. There were lovestruck shouts of encouragement for Victor as he closed his eyes and turned his face upward to take his stance. For his music, he had chosen was Sun by Thomas Bergensen. It was a triumphant and deeply emotional song. My heart broke eighteen different ways as he shone on this, likely his final stage.

His first jump was a triple salchow. I held my breath as he entered it. He jumped. I, and the audience, gasped, but this time in shocked disappointment. Not a triple. Not even a double. He had made it a single. On top of which, even though he hung gracefully in the air for what seemed like an unnaturally long time, the height was so low he barely left the ice. What?

Was I imagining things? None of what I had just seen made any sense. I could think of no reason why that had just happened. I had never seen Victor make a single mistake. And anyway, from where I was standing, it hadn't looked like a mistake. He chose not to try. Now my heart broke again, but this time in anguish. What was happening?

"Victor!" I heard Yurio cry from nearby, also watching from the rink side and still in costume. Everything I was feeling, along with another level of unspeakable outrage, was streaked across his formerly beautiful face.

As we both watched helplessly, our mentor continued his skate even as the audience grew hushed and some began to cry. They had already realized what it took Yurio and I so long to do, out of disbelief and love for Victor. Each time Victor landed on his left foot, pain echoed across his face. It wasn't that he didn't want to jump. He couldn't.

I've never felt pain so deep as the moment I realized that. I cried so hard my head started to hurt. But still, even as it broke my heart, I knew I owed it to Victor to keep watching until the end.

Despite his pain, Victor let nothing diminish his performance. His skill and expressiveness were still utterly transcendent. No one could tear their eyes away from him. Everyone ached for him, and loved him, in all his shining glory. No one who saw it would ever forget the feeling of watching Victor Nikiforov's sun prince.

The music drifted away into its heartfelt resolution. His performance finished. The reaction began with a slowly building round of applause. Then someone in the crowd shouted, "Victor!" Shouts of encouragement joined this voice. Then slowly cheers grew and eventually rained down upon Victor, along with an entire carpet of flowers. He bowed as the cheers continued and then scanned the edge of the rink. His eyes found me. He smiled sadly. I could see even at this distance that, although he tried to hide it, a tear streaked down his face.

"Victor…" I murmured, biting my lip. I covered my eyes, unable to return his gaze. I was so ashamed. I knew Victor must be crushed. I knew it wasn't his fault. I knew I should be supportive of him. Why was I so shallow, that all I could think about was never being able to compete with Victor on the same stage, as equals? Why was all I could think about my own pain?

I heard skates exit the rink in front of me. Victor's outward breath of regret. "Yuri," I heard his soft voice as he approached.

I couldn't look at him.

"Yuri," he implored softly.

I gritted my teeth.

Victor took a breath, seeming to search for words. When he finally found them, they only twisted the knife. "I'm so sorry," he whispered.

My hand at my side closed into a fist.

"I tried too hard in my short program. Trying to keep up with you two rising stars. I pushed a little too far."

"Don't," I murmured. I'm not sure he heard me.

He took the hand at my side into his own, lowering his head to murmur in a voice I barely heard, "I wanted to go all the way with you. You deserved my best, and I couldn't give it. I'm so sorry, Yuri."

"Stop it!" I cried, throwing off his hand. "How…how can you be so loving?!" I demanded. I sobbed, covering my eyes again. "You make me ashamed! I know…I know how much it must hurt…I know you did your best, but even now all I can think about is myself. I feel like I've lost you forever."

Victor gave a difficult laugh which still sounded like he might cry. "I'm right here."

"But as a competitor, you left me behind in that short program!" I cried. "I'll never beat you. Even if I break your record…and I don't think anyone ever will…it will only be a memory!" I wiped my eyes, the makeup stinging them. "Don't sympathize with me…I'm the worst person in the world. Your career may be over, and all I can think about is how much it hurts me!"

"Same."

I gasped and looked up at him, fearing he would say the words that would crush my spirit completely, while making me fall ever deeper in love with him. Beautiful, glittering tears were falling down Victor's face even as he smiled at me, his eyes filled with love.

"My career? As far as I'm concerned, my reason for living, from the moment I saw you performing my program, has been you. Yuri. Part of me was desperate to compete with you. But now we have. And don't say you'll never beat me." Victor took both my hands in his, bringing them to his chest as he looked deep into my eyes. "If I hadn't pushed myself that hard, I would have had no chance against you. And my body couldn't keep up with you. Do you see? And don't you dare say it's because I'm old. Anyone can get hurt, you know that as well as I do."

My lip quivered as I struggled with what he was saying. His love was so beautiful it hurt. And I knew he was right. But I was still so embarrassed that my lover was forever so much more mature than me. I sniffed and swallowed.

"Victor…"

"Yes?"

"I don't know if I have another year in me," I murmured. "And I doubt that you do."

"Hey."

I returned his hold of my hands. "But I don't want it to end like this. It's too much."

Victor nodded. "Well. You never know. You may be satisfied with this. Let's listen to the final scores."

"But-"

The lights dimmed as the final scores went up on the big screen, and the announcer's voice echoed loudly through the stadium, "In sixth place, with a combined score of 220.10, Victor Nikiforov!"

I blinked. "But if they didn't give you any points for technical elements…that must mean…a perfect components score?!"

Victor bumped me with his hip, unbalancing me. He folded his arms and looked pleased with himself. "So now that's two records for you to beat. Along with what I'm sure was the worst ever free skate score! Ha ha ha!"

"Are you okay?" I grumbled, genuinely not sure if he was actually disturbed or just being his usual space cadet self.

"In fifth place, with a combined score of …Jean-Jacques Leroy! In fourth place, with a combined score of 237.91, Christoph Giacometti! In third place, with a combined score of 268.77, and personal best, Otabek Altin! In second place, with yet another a record-breaking free skate score, a combined score of 301.47…Yuri Plisetsky!"

While they had cheered enthusiastically for every skater so far, the audience erupted. They had loved his black and white swans. I wished I could have seen them live. But I wasn't thinking about what it meant. I was happy for Yurio, and sad for Victor and myself, I had somehow completely forgotten I would almost certainly be standing on a podium and walking home with a medal today. Even when I remembered that, all I could think was that they hadn't said my name, and for a moment I feared that I may even have been disqualified for some reason. Gradually, in the moments before the announcer continued, it occurred to me that there was a more obvious reason they hadn't said my name.

"And the winner of the Grand Prix Final…the dark horse of this competition, only his second time on the podium and first gold medal at 24 years old…with a combined score of 301.59, just 0.12 above his nearest rival…Katsuki Yuuri!"

The cheers were deafening. Victor was hugging me so tight I could barely breathe. Within moments, Yuko and her family, Minako-sensei and even Yakov had crowded around us and were crying, hugging me (or rather us, because Victor wouldn't let go) and ruffling my hair. The cheering was so loud and so long I thought it would never end. And I was so filled with adrenaline that I still only felt numb for some time, the reality that I had met my goal of almost my entire life not really sinking in.

Moments later it seemed, although I didn't have much sense of the passage of time, after Victor had fixed mine and Yurio's hair and makeup, Yurio, Otabek and I were standing on the podium together, and a gold medal was around my neck. The Japanese national anthem played, and we all listened in silence. I kept thinking I must be dreaming. But then I would spot Victor's happy-crying face in the crowd. He was smiling so hard it looked like it hurt. The more I watched him, the more my disbelief and insecurity melted away. The more glad I was that I had met Victor and come this far.

The thrill of winning faded in favor of desire to be where Victor was. I barely noticed the strange tension between Yurio and Otabek, standing oddly silent beside me. I joined him after most of the fanfare was over and kissed him, knowing we were likely still being broadcast on international TV at this moment and not caring.

As we were leaving the stadium, holding hands, reporters mobbed us. Victor ignored most, pulling me along behind him, until one got close and asked in Japanese, "Yuri-senshu! What will you and your coach, Victor Nikiforov be doing to celebrate this win?"

Victor stopped. He grinned at the reporter and tilted his head coquettishly. He leaned down and kissed me on the cheek. Now somewhat conscious of what was going on, I blushed up to my ears. "Getting married," Victor announced, wagging his right ring finger and hold up my right hand beside it.

"Eh?" the reporter replied, showing a face that simply read "error".