What the even heck is this? I don't know guys, honest. Hope you enjoy nonetheless.

˪ Agape

Unconditional love

It started with a cold.

At the time he hadn't thought much of it. Yakov had been oddly strict with the order of him not practicing, and Victor had sworn up and down that he'd ensure that he wouldn't take advantage of their now coach's free schedule and try to surpass him. Empty promises as Yuri knew the man just wanted to spend time with the other Yuuri like the sickening couple they were.

The only good thing that seemed to have come out of the whole thing was spending so much time with his grandpa; the much older male using most of his free time fretting over his grandson's health, petting his hair and practically showering him with affection, and Yuri didn't miss the way he practically beamed when Victor and Yuuri visited him one night carrying bags of soup and rice and water.

"I'm fine idiots!" he snapped, blanket wrapped over his shoulders like a cape and nose red and stuffy making his voice sound all weird as he glared at their bundled forms grinning patiently at him on his doorstep.

He would've slammed the door in their faces if his grandpa didn't suddenly emerge asking him who it was, and if he didn't know they'd catch their death outside come in come in come in. Yuri couldn't do much more than glare irritatedly as he watched them be ushered in, door slamming shut behind them.

"You're grandson is very articulate," Victor spoke up as they were seated in the living room, Yuri given strict instructions to lay on the couch and to not move again.

Yuri's glare deepened, boring holes in the older man's silver scalp. Victor didn't even seem to notice, smiling that stupid innocent smile up at his grandpa; Yuri just happened to know otherwise, having spent enough time with the male to realize a barb directed at him any day.

His grandpa glanced at him, eyes soft like they were whenever he thought too much of how Yuri had grown, as he hummed, "Yes. I am very proud of him."

Which, of course, never ceased to put a blush on Yuri's cheeks. His face grew hot, and he had to duck to hide the expression he knew the other two had already seen. It wasn't fair. He never went to their home and harassed them whenever one got sick.

"I'm sleepy now," he announced instead, rolling over and wrapping his blanket around him as he mentally willed them to leave.

"Nyet. Nonsense boy. Sit up while you have company," he was chided for all his efforts, a hard slap on the leg accompanying the irate words.

He should've known better- especially considering he spent the better part of the day protesting that he was fine and that his grandpa needed to stop coddling him. Maybe that was why Victor and Yuuri were there, led by Victor's weird talent to show up the precise moment Yuri didn't want him to.

"We're just making sure you're taking care of yourself," Yuuri reassured genuinely, "Victor mentioned something about how you're parents weren't around much."

And just like that the jovial atmosphere was over. Even Victor was narrowing his eyes at Yuuri, and Yuri suddenly regretted having shared a coach with him the better part of his career. Most days he thought it was cool but was soon to realize Victor had come to realize a lot of things he'd rather keep private.

Yuuri blinked in surprise at the tense silence as he quickly reassured, "I didn't mean any harm. I didn't realize-"

"Of course not," his grandpa promised warmly- almost fondly- as he explained, "They were never the most involved parents, and then one day they decided a child was too much."

"As long as I can recall it's been me and my grandpa. Nothing's changed," Yuri blurted in rudely, eyes narrowed and glaring but they didn't seem intimidated by that much anymore as Yuuri nodded in apologetic understanding and Victor watched and waited tensely.

"And I couldn't be more proud," his grandpa agreed with a faraway expression and dreamy smile spread across his normally stoic features.

"As you have every right to be," Victor nodded, "He's come very far for someone so young. He certainly represented Russia proudly in my absence."

"Ah yes," Yuri's grandpa hummed in thought as his eyes moved to Yuuri as he added almost offhandedly, "You're little Japanese project."

Victor tensed, hands fisting together tightly. Blue eyes were practically burning in barely concealed fury, and Yuri thought back to that moment by the ocean when he'd declared such reckless things. Yuuri didn't seem to notice, eyes still watching Yuri like a kicked puppy which kind of sucked as he felt too sick to take advantage of the sudden vulnerability.

Not that Victor would've allowed him to venture too far, and Victor was capable of being far more frightening than even he knew.

"Quit looking at me like that," Yuri snapped without thinking, "I don't talk about my parents for a reason. There's never been much to talk about."

Victor blinked, blue eyes focusing back on him void of his previous fury. Not that Yuri noticed, too busy entranced by Yuuri's bright relieved smile. His eyes seemed to sparkle as a giddy expression crossed his features, and it came as shock when Yuri later realized Victor hadn't paid attention to any of it.

His parents.

Why did everyone concern themselves so much with his parents? Why did it draw such expressions from people that otherwise wouldn't even notice him if he was standing five feet away?

Why?

"Quit it," Yuri repeated before his grandpa could step in, "Both of you."

"Yuri is strong boy," his grandpa reinforced with a sharp edge in his tone that appeared whenever Yuri's parents came up in conversation, "and he needs his sleep if you two would be so kind."

"Oh. Of course," and just like that Victor was back to normal as he rose and cheerfully exclaimed, "Come along Yuuri."

Yuuri still looked hesitant, eyes blinking at him uncertainly, before he gave a reluctant nod and agreed a little too submissively, "Yeah. Okay."

And Yuri almost felt bad that they were being kicked out because even after all these years his grandpa still got weird about the parents he never even knew.

Almost.

Ever since he was little, everyone always told Yuuri how he cared too much. He berated himself so much, yet never hesitated to try to lift someone else's spirits and there was nothing wrong with that as long as he didn't drag himself in the mud in doing so.

Then he met Victor, and something inside him changed. He became selfish, wanting nothing more than to horde the man all to himself. Monopolize him, show the whole world that he was worth it. Worth Victor and that was fine.

Then he opened his stupid mouth in Yuri's apartment and he knew he screwed up without Victor telling him. Victor was just naturally protective of those he cared for and he'd practically watched Yuri grow up.

He did wait until they were back at Victor's, which Yuuri appreciated. He didn't think he could handle suddenly balling his eyes out in the middle of Russia.

"Yuuri," Victor sighed in that disappointed way of his, head bowed as the door clicked shut with a resonating sound of finality.

This was it.

The moment he'd been dreading since opening his stupid mouth, bringing up the teenager's missing parents and witnessing the way Yuri's eyes grew withdrawn and sad. Heavy in an emotion other than his usual anger.

"Victor," Yuuri replied, voice choking on even that because he knew what was coming and- worst- he knew he deserved it.

Only something in his voice triggered something in Victor's mind. He could practically hear the click as icy blue eyes softened and- no- Yuuri didn't deserve that. He knew he didn't.

Victor's hands reached out to grab him, to hold him, and Yuuri shook his head as he stepped back. Only Victor was used to be turned down and knew the way to bypass that.

Victor made a grab for Yuuri's hand instead, placing a soft kiss to his fingers as he reassured, "You couldn't have known."

"I did though," Yuuri fought snapping his hand back against his chest and holding it there so he could glare furiously at the older male, "and even if I didn't I shouldn't have said anything. It wasn't my place. I just never thought- never expected- for him to look so…"

He trailed off, images of Yuri pale and curled up on his couch with a giant blanket encompassing his small frame as he looked at him like he couldn't believe he'd just went there. That he said something so callus.

"Vulnerable," Victor finished with a knowing nod and distressed sigh as he added, "I know but believe me when I say that he's not upset with you. In fact, he's probably overjoyed you're carelessness got us kicked out."

Yuuri shook his head because he'd been wrong on his assumption that Victor understood. He didn't care what Yuri did or didn't think- the teen came up with something to be mad at him over every day of the week. A frequent enough occurrence that Yuuri started returning, especially whenever he learned Yuri would snort in silent approval like he'd always been testing his strength- checking his backbone.

That fleeting look of betrayal and heartbreak that flittered across Yuri's face- that was the expression Yuuri regretted. That was when he knew he unwittingly crossed over, and he'd do anything to take it back.

He'd been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed his breathing had grown irregular until Victor's arms wrapped around his slender frame and just held him there. He tensed, hands fisting in the front of Victor's shirt, as he focused on the words Victor was hissing in his ear.

"Breathe Yuuri. That's it. In. Out. In. Out. Just like that."

"Victor," Yuuri murmured, interrupting the Russian as he asked feeling sad and helpless, "How do I- What do I do now? How do I fix this?"

There was a long moment where Victor said nothing. Growing anxious Yuuri pushed at the older man's chest, pulling away despite the cage Victor's arms trapped him in. Bright blue eyes stared down at him in that guarded way Yuuri hated, before the man finally spoke.

"Yuri will have forgotten about it by tomorrow," Victor reassured and Yuuri opened his mouth to protest when Victor continued in a low tone, "It's his grandfather you really need to talk to. He practically raised him, and the topic of Yuri's parents is practically forbidden whenever he's around."

That Yuuri could work with.

After all, no one mattered more to Yuri then his grandfather and if Yuuri made amends to him then he might be able to find he could forgive himself.

"I'll go tomorrow," Yuuri vowed with a firm headshake, "After practice ends I'll go see him."

Victor gave a fleeting smile as he pressed a kiss against Yuuri's temple and practically breathed, "That's one of the things I love so much about you."

This time Yuuri allowed himself to melt in Victor's hold as the older man ushered him into the bedroom tossing him on the bed and closing the door. This time the sound of the door shutting was a welcoming sort of ominous.

The next day Yuri showed up to practice, still a little pale and sleepy looking but he had enough fire in him to snap at anyone who dared question him about it so Yuuri figured he was fine. After all for the kid it meant that he practically was.

Yuuri didn't stick around to harass the poor kid, wasn't sure they were ever in the same room. The only reason he knew Yuri was back was because Victor had told him, along with a disturbingly in-depth analysis on the kid's state. Not that he could ever fault the Russian, had been well aware of their relationship before he started his own with Victor.

The moment Yakov had called Victor for his own training Yuuri had gathered his things and left. He didn't bump into Yuri. He didn't see anyone, now that he thought about it, but shrugged it off because that was normal.

It wasn't like people flocked the ice rink to watch the skaters frustrate themselves trying to perfect everything.

It wasn't like they cared. They were all Russian, with Russian schedules, something Victor had giggled about the first time he informed Yuuri of as much.

The outside air was several degrees colder than on the inside but not enough to make much of a difference. Yuuri just yanked his coat tighter around his shoulders and moved, walking with the urgency of someone trying to escape the cold.

It wasn't a particularly long walk. Yuuri has traveled further in Japan, but it felt like forever before he got to the humble apartment complex where he only slightly hesitated before banging his fist against the wood. Yuri's grandfather- Nikolai- answered with his usual pinched up expression.

"What do you want?" he demanded, blockading the entrance in case Yuuri got the assumption he was invited in.

"I came to apologize about last night," was what rushed out of Yuuri's mouth without any sense of grace or preamble, followed by an apologetic bow.

When he rose back up he realized the man was staring intensely at him, eyes searching for something. Yuuri wasn't sure what but he knew that it made him uncomfortable. He didn't move, refused to show any discomfort on his features as he pleaded silently for his forgiveness.

"He's never told you about them, has you?" Nikolai finally asked, sounding old and worn.

Yuuri shook his head a little too much vigorously. Too excited.

Thankfully Nikolai didn't seem to mind as he waved Yuuri inside, and Yuuri found himself back in the same spot he'd sat the day before staring at one of the few people who put a broad smile on the usually sour teenager's face.

"They had been young when they had him. Perhaps a little too young," Nikolai started slowly, "My son- Yuri's father- had just became a man and was excited. Next thing I knew he was calling me to tell me he got the girl he'd been seeing pregnant and, well, neither one of them were ready."

Yuuri didn't say anything, afraid of over stepping his bounds once more. He just sat, hands clasped in his lap and eyes focused on the man before him as he tried picturing what it must've felt like to be that young and handed so much responsibility at once.

"I should've known. I think a small part of me suspected but not enough to stop them. They wanted an abortion but I told them they weren't allowed. The baby hadn't done anything except resemble their carelessness. Several months later Yuri was born, and I thought that would be enough. They loved the kid enough for it to be enough."

"And then what?" Yuuri asked when the man paused for too long, eyes welling up as he realized why this was probably such a sore topic.

How do you look yourself in the eyes knowing that your own parents hadn't wanted you?

Nikolai gave him a sharp expression before his face softened and he explained, "Yuri was barely 2 when my son called asking for me to take in the boy for a while. Said he couldn't handle the pressure of fatherhood. Claimed he needed a break, and I said I would. Then a couple of weeks turned to months and months to years and before anybody knew it I'd raised this kid, and if they thought I was going to return them then they were wrong."

"Wow," Yuuri whistled impressed before he said, "I never realized."

"Of course not," Nikolai dismissed, "I try not to think about it. Yuri is good boy. Strong in ways people don't even realize. I don't like thinking it is because his own parents didn't want him."

Yuuri bent over, touching the back of the older man's hand as he reassured with a touch of steel he hadn't been aware he was capable of, "You did an excellent job, and he loves you very much. It wasn't your fault."

Nikolai smiled kindly back at him as he nodded and agreed, "I know. That's why I'm happy he's found friends like you. He's been alone for far too long."

Yuuri beamed at the thought of being Yuri's friend. At the thought of the younger skater to talk about him in such a way that his grandfather would consider them friends. It sent a blossom of warmth through his stomach, coloring his cheeks an embarrassing scarlet color.

A hand grabbing onto his broke Yuuri from his thoughts and he found himself blinking in the serious expression of the older man as he ground out seriously, "Watch over him for me. Promise me you will."

"Of course," Yuuri agreed almost instantly, "me and Victor will look out for him."

A soft smile of relief shattered the disturbingly solemn expression as Nikolai bowed his head, giving it a slight nod, as he whispered almost to himself, "Good. He needs someone like you two in his life. Keep him safe."

Yuuri smiled about the same time the phone rang, and he wasn't sure what it was but something must have tipped him off that something wasn't right. The sudden knot in his stomach was testimony enough to that.

˪ Philia

Brotherly love

Yakov wasn't happy when he showed up to practice, but Yuri didn't care what the old geezer wanted. His fever had been broken for almost 12 hours and- try as he did- his grandpa couldn't find anything serious enough to keep him on the couch.

Not that Yuri didn't appreciate their concern. It's just he already lost so much valuable time Victor or the other Yuuri could've very well taken full advantage of. Others too but something about the sickening couple sent a new flame to Yuri's competitive streak and he'd rot before he gave them an added gain over him for anything, which included hours spent on practicing.

He just wished Yakov didn't have to be so loud in his displeasure.

"I get it already," Yuri finally snapped, arms hugging his chest as he glared furiously back pressed against the wall for slight support- not that anybody needed to know that his head still felt fuzzy and light because he was fine, "You don't want me on the ice. Well I'm here now and I'm getting on that ice so you can either get over it or move out of my way."

Yakov didn't bother replying as he planted his feet and glared stubbornly. He wasn't going to move and he wasn't going to allow Yuri to slip by quite so easily. Ridiculous because the cold hadn't even been that sever.

Yuri glared back but something in his coach's eyes made him uncomfortable so he lashed out with another, "I'm fine old man."

He was saved by Yakov's response when Victor turned the corner, blinking in surprise at the scene. Yakov immediately took a step back though none of his tension left his short frame as he continued to glare at the blonde teen.

"I'm so glad you're here Vitya," Yakov spoke as his eyes continued to drill holes into Yuri's very being, "Tell Yuri that he's still unwell and should remain off the ice for at least the remaining of the week."

Yuri gawked as Victor's eyes shifted nervously between the two of them. Yuri wasn't sure why. He already knew whose side he'd take.

"Maybe you should go lie back down," Victor suggested unhelpfully, hand held out in front of him in what he no doubt considered a pacifying gesture.

It wasn't.

If anything, it only infuriated Yuri further.

"I am not a child," Yuri snapped using the wall to puff himself out like a cornered animal on the verge of desperation, "Quit treating me as such."

Yakov pinched the bridge of his nose, and Victor looked uncomfortable. Yuri just blinked as his words caught up to him, sending a bright red to flame across his expression.

Idiot.

The cold must've made him stupid.

"You're fifteen Yuri," Yakov replied and Yuri knew that was the end of this particular argument; his coach was going to get his way- again- and Yuri was so tired of that.

"I'm fine," Yuri ground out between clenched teeth and narrowed eyes and he felt moments from exploding but that wouldn't do any of them any good; it definitely wouldn't help his child remark.

"Maybe you should back off Yakov," Victor stepped in, voice as unsure as his eyes as the blue orbs flittered between the two of them, "If he says he's fine then maybe-"

"You're both idiots," Yakov interrupted, brushing off Victor's attempt at consolation and Yuri had seen the man mad before but not quite like this, "and I'm not playing any part of this. You want to skate. Fine. Go skate, but I'm not going to coach you today so you won't get any work done."

Then he was gone, signaling the end of the conversation.

Yuri blinked because that was a new one.

It wasn't like Yakov never got mad. He was Russian, it was practically his default setting. This had just been a controlled sort of fury, precise and deadly and completely uncharacteristic of the older man. Even when Victor ran off to Japan his displeasure had been eruptive and violent.

This Yuri had no idea how to handle.

From Victor's stunned expression, the older male didn't either.

But then Victor blinked and- just like that- his expression had changed. He was smiling down at him in that stupid fond way of his as he tilted his head to the side and suggested, "Why don't I go give you some pointers, da?"

Yuri didn't reply because he heard what Victor hadn't said. He was only letting him think he won when in actuality it was a trap to get him to go home without much more fuss, and some part of him hated that it worked.

He nodded.

Victor practically beamed, an expression Yuri blamed the sudden sour sensation churning his stomach on. Something Yuri would never admit that he liked, but he did. Not that it mattered all that much. He suspected Victor already knew; he was obnoxious like that.

But thirty minutes later Yuri had to force himself to stop, legs shaking weakly underneath him as Victor worriedly peered back at him. Something wasn't right. His head didn't feel quite right, and he remembered saying Victor's name. He remembered calling him over, and he remembered Victor obliging without much fuss.

And, later, he'll be able to recall Victor's startled cry as Yuri sank into oblivion.

Victor knew he should've listened to his instinct, but Yuri's stubbornness convinced him to at least compromise and he'd honestly thought no longer than thirty minutes would've been fine. Should've been fine.

Now he was kneeling down on the ice, screaming at Yakov to call an ambulance- Yuri passed out and needs and ambulance, Yakov- and only by sheer luck the man had actually heard him. Or maybe he figured something was bound to happen so decided to stick close, wait it out.

Victor didn't know. He didn't care. All he knew was if the man had suspected something like this then Victor was going to break his nose because Yuri wasn't a means of getting back at him for taking a year off. Yuri wasn't a tool he got to use to make Victor feel helpless and idiotic.

The wild expression in the other male's eyes indicated that he was equally freaked at the unmoving blonde form sprawled out on the ice. Red matted half of the teenager's face from where he struck headfirst and there was so much of it.

Hands reached out, grabbed his shoulders and jerking him away. The motion was enough to jolt Victor out of his stupor, and he cried out as he tried breaking free. His elbow collided in the back of something with a satisfying crunch, and the hands released him cursing.

"Victor!" Yakov shouted, and Victor blinked as he turned around to see the furious expression of his coach.

"Yakov. I don't know what happened. He just suddenly collapsed," Victor rushed, eyes wild and desperate as he searched for any signs of comfort on the older man's expression.

"I got that," Yakov snapped shoving him away so he could check Yuri, "I told you he wasn't ready. He needed sleep."

"I know," Victor swallowed hating the feeling of hopelessness that nearly enveloped him, "Is he going to be okay?"

Yakov moved away from Yuri as he admitted softly, "I don't know. He hit his head pretty bad. Stay with him, try talking to him. I'm going to go wait for the ambulance outside."

Victor nodded, immediately shifting over to the younger boy's side. He propped the kid's head in his lap, mindlessly stroking blonde hair from his features as he whispered meaningless things. Not that it mattered, Yuri never stirred.

Not on the ice, not in the ambulance, and certainly not in the hospital where it finally struck Victor to contact the teenager's grandfather.

Yuri remembered everything in pieces- something he'd later come to blame on his supposedly harmless cold.

He remembered people- dark objects, really- hovering over him in wild panic. He remembered voices and hands, demanding for him to wake up. Come back to them and wake the damn up.

He remembered feeling cold and thinking that whatever he was laying on was one of the most uncomfortable surfaces and that whoever thought it was a good idea to lay him on that was an idiot. Perhaps an even bigger idiot than Victor and that idiot of the other Yuuri.

He remembered Victor. He remembered Victor's voice, Victor's panic and concern. He remembered Victor calling his name, or was it the other's name? He couldn't be sure. He wasn't sure he wanted to.

Then he was enveloped by darkness, and he remembered no more.

One hour.

It took the hospital one hour before they came out in the lobby with soft reassurances that Yuri was fine. His fever had relapsed and combined with the minor concussion he received from hitting his head had caused them some slight concern, but he should be fine as soon as he woke up.

Nikolai thanked them, hands visibly shaking as he crammed them in his coat pockets, and they offered one last consoling smile before disappearing down the hall. Then it was just a waiting game, one that left a sour aftertaste in his mouth- especially considering he knew this was his fault.

Together, as a group, they all moved towards the teenager's room. Victor made it all the way to the doorstop before he turned to wait in the hall. Yakov gave him a condescending glare, one that he knew well. One that screamed that he was a coward, and that he needed to get it together because he was needed on the other side of that door.

Except he wasn't needed. Yuri had never looked up to him, and he lost all chances of a relationship with the boy when he ran off to Japan; a decision he'll never regret, but he had just hoped that they would all one day be able to move past that.

Apparently not.

Yuuri stayed behind with him, offering a friendly smile to Nikolai as he passed. It seemed to work, the man giving a final glance between them before disappearing inside.

"You doing alright Victor?" Yuuri asked worriedly, coming to stand with him.

Victor smiled at the small Japanese man, a fond smile crossing his face at the worried glint in his eyes. God, he loved him.

"I am fine Yuuri. Thank you for your concern," Victor reassured reaching out just so he could touch him, hold him.

Yuuri gave a slight noise, one that indicated his disbelief, but he didn't speak on the matter again. Instead he leaned his weight against Victor's side, hugging his center firmly.

"I talked to Yuri's grandfather," Yuuri whispered, Victor snaking his arms around him so Yuuri could look up at him and he asked, "Did you know? About Yuri's parents?"

Victor didn't reply immediately. He just swooped over, nestling his nose in the younger male's hair and inhaling deeply. Every inch of Victor's being felt like it would shatter at any moment, but Yuuri kept him grounded.

"Victor?" Yuuri pressed, large oval eyes staring up at him.

"I'm aware that his parents abandoned him as a child, yes," Victor hummed, hating the thought that his fiancé had been subjected to such a harsh reality.

Then again, the two had bonded quite a bit and if Victor was a petty man then he'd find it in himself to be jealous. Which he wasn't because that's ridiculous.

"You know it wasn't your fault right?" Yuuri asked suddenly, catching Victor off guard.

Victor gently pushed Yuuri from him so he could look into the other male's eyes as he breathed out, "Yakov was against Yuri training again so soon, so I offered to give him some pointers. I never meant to push him past his limits so soon."

"It's what you do Victor," Yuuri murmured, "You strive to bring out the best in people. It's what makes you such a fantastic coach."

The words alleviated some of the tightness wound around Victor's chest. Enough so that he brought Yuuri back towards him so he could place a gentle kiss against his forehead.

"I'm not Yuri's coach," Victor whispered gently, "and I was never meant to be."

The door to Yuri's room opened, Nikolai stepping out. He looked ancient and tired as he regarded the two males still standing out in the hall, though Victor swore his eyes strayed on Yuuri longer than himself.

"Can I speak with you Victor?" he finally asked, the pressure returning to Victor's chest as he nodded; Yuuri gave him a supporting smile before disappearing into Yuri's room.

Nikolai leaned his weight against the wall beside Victor, silent and stern and more intimidating than he probably should've been. Victor tried telling himself that it was just his guilt talking, demanding for him to find hostility in every little thing, but another part of him chimed in to remind him that Nikolai may be old but he could still snap Victor like a twig.

And his grandson was his whole world.

"Yakov explained what happened," he finally spoke, breaking the silence in way that almost felt worse than when he hadn't said anything.

Shame washed over Victor as he bowed his head, silver bangs falling over his features, as he apologized, "I shouldn't have let him on the ice so soon. I just- he looked like he was going to do it anyways and I thought I could mediate enough that he'd get peace of mind-"

A hand- large and warm- settled on his shoulder effectively silencing him. He blinked up at Yuri's grandfather to see his eyes had gone soft with understanding.

"You don't have to explain," Nikolai reassured, "It wasn't your fault. Yuri's just so damned stubborn, and it's hard to say no to him."

Victor blinked back at him, and it must've been enough of a signal to continue because the man did.

"He's been alone a long time, Victor, and no matter what I've tried he's always acted a bit sourly to others. That's why I suggested him taking up ice skating in the first place, so he could make friends like you."

Victor smiled sadly, mind drifting slightly, as he protested, "I don't think Yuri would approve you throwing such sentimentalities around on his behalf."

Nikolai's face soured as he grunted, "Bah. Boy's dense and stubborn, but he's not stupid. He knows what you mean to him just like he knew that without you someone needed to represent Russia proudly."

Victor blinked.

Represent Russia? That certainly explained a lot of things, especially the teenager's distain towards Victor and Yuuri's budding relationship and Victor should've seen it. Why hadn't he seen it?

Because you were blinded by your love.

"Just do me a favor," Nikolai added as he squinted his eyes in careful suspicion, "Be the type of friend he needs. Don't let him chase you off. Don't let him convince you that he deserves to be alone."

Victor nodded.

There wasn't much more he could've done, not with the sudden commotion erupting at the end of the hallway.

˪ Eros

Sexual love

Reporters had been on the story almost instantly, swarming the story like the hungry vultures they were. Victor had just never stopped to think on who could've seen it, much less care enough to travel at impossible speeds to the hospital.

Unless…

Some thoughts really weren't worth pondering.

He hadn't even paused to glance at Yuri's grandfather before he rushed towards the source of the commotion. It was certainly loud, and he slowed to a stop when he realized it was Otabek running towards him as tired staff chased demanding to know his relations towards the patient.

The other skater stopped upon seeing Victor, a look of shock and sudden concern crossing his features as Victor reassured the hospital staff that it was fine, and he'll take care of the other male. They seemed indigent but backed off nevertheless.

As soon as they were out of sight Victor turned on him because somethings weren't normal, and this was definitely one of them.

"What're you doing here?" he demanded, arms cross and feet firm in a stance that screamed he wasn't getting past until Victor approved his answer.

Otabek blushed, turning his head, as he grumbled out, "I was visiting when I heard the news."

Visiting? Russia? A season before competition?

As if.

"What business could you have possibly have had?" Victor demanded, voice unnaturally hard and sharp like he could cut the man down just by words alone.

To his credit, Otabek didn't seem moved.

He planted himself, straightening his spine, as he replied with the honesty of a child, "Yuri told me how he hadn't been feeling well lately. I came to check on him," and Victor recognized those eyes, the tone in which he had used.

It was the same one's he used whenever his Yuuri was involved.

Except this wasn't like that. Yuri was only fifteen and, last Victor checked, too young to start any relations with another person that wasn't strictly platonic.

Fifteen was too young to have your heart broken.

Fifteen was just too young.

But Otabek didn't seem perturbed as he waited for what Victor was certain he already knew was coming. After all, Otabek was intelligent and fearless and-

"How long?" Victor demanded because his mind was whirling on all the times the two had been alone together, under the pretense of friendship.

- Otabek has yet proven himself worthy of the teenager Victor's grown quite attached to despite the latter's attempts to deter that sort of relationship.

Dark eyes widened in surprise before settling back to their normal indifference as he explained, "We're not dating."

Victor stepped forward- an intimidation factor, his brain screamed at him- as he asked with a dark smile spreading across his features.

"But you'd like to, wouldn't you?" he asked with a faux friendliness in his tone, and he would be the first to admit that he's always enjoyed the company of the other male and never held any ill will towards him but the thought of the eighteen year old start a relationship with Yuri was enough to send hackles down his spine.

"Yes."

The answer caught Victor off-guard, forcing him to freeze, as he blinked in surprise. It was so blunt and genuine without even a hint of malice; it was enough to distract Victor long enough for Nikolai and Yakov to catch up with them.

Both older men blinked as Nikolai asked, "Altin? What are you doing here?"

Otabek's eyes shifted off of Victor as he explained simply, "I'm here to see Yuri. Is he alright?"

"Yes. Yes. The boy is tougher than he looks, he's Russian," Yakov waved off, but Victor could tell he was as surprised at the other male's presence as Victor had been.

Otabek's eyes shifted between the three of them before he asked, "May I see him?"

"Of course," and the fact that it was Nikolai that answered, already leading the boy to Yuri's room, sent another wave of confusion rushing over Victor.

Perhaps he missed more than he thought on his year off.

Yuri woke to a room crowded with familiar faces, and for the longest moment he was convinced he was dreaming, but he couldn't fathom a reason his dream would give his grandpa such a worried expression.

"Grandpa?" he croaked past the dull throb in his temple and lump gathered in the back of his throat at the sight of Otabek and Victor and Yakov and the other Yuuri and-

What the actual hell?

"You're fine," his grandpa immediately reassured, warm hand pressing against his arm as his eyes shone with his concern, "Do you remember what happened?"

"I-" Yuri wrinkled his nose as flashes returned to him piece by piece, "Did I faint?"

"You relapsed," Yakov explained in his usual harsh tone that made Yuri cringe because he suddenly realized it was probably his fault, "You weren't better, and you didn't listen, and you passed out because of your fever."

Yuri reached up, fingers probing the sore spot on his scalp, as he apologized softly, "I'm sorry."

Yakov snorted, turning his head, and Yuri realized that he must've really freaked the man out if he was letting it go without much fuss. Victor too because he distinctly remembered Victor being there and now Victor wasn't looking him in the eye- but even that didn't explain Yuri's most pressing concern.

He tilted his head so he could see the man beside him and asked, "Otabek? What're you doing here? You're supposed to be Kazakhstan."

Otabek nodded before he replied obviously, "I came to see you."

And Yuri's mind must have been playing tricks on him because he could've sworn he saw Victor's entire being tense, only to be stopped from doing anything particularly stupid by Yuuri's hand enclosing around the other Russian.

Even so, Yuri couldn't keep the goofy expression from his face as he murmured sleepily, "Great," before he found himself drifting off once more.

Victor wasn't calm.

Yuri wasn't sure why that was his thought when the man entered his apartment, the other Yurri not far behind. Then he realized he caught himself staring so he settled for scowling, Otabek's soft voice echoing as he led the two of them to where Yuri was holed up.

Nikolai had left begrudgingly to fetch some groceries, leaving Yuri with the visiting skater under the pretense that they'll behave. Yuri idly wondered how Otabek managed to convince his grandpa to do that. At least he did until Victor just randomly showed up five minutes later.

Yuuri looked out of place, trying to strike a conversation with Otabek, who didn't reply with much more than firm nods and slight grunts. Victor- the more social of the two- just sat there scowling like an angry father who just realized their daughter was dating a thug.

Yuri blinked in surprise.

Oh.

Oh.

Yuri growled lowly, gathering the attention of the three males in the room, and he focused a hard glare towards Victor. One he hoped conveyed that Victor was not in fact his father, and therefore had no say in who Yuri may or may not be interested in. Not that he was dating Otabek, the other male not interested in much more than just being friends.

Victor blinked, narrowing his expression before he asked with that faux cheer of his, "Yuuri, darling, I think Yuri needs something to drink."

Yuuri narrowed his gaze suspiciously before nodding, asking if Otabek would care to join him and being the painfully polite person he was, Otabek agreed. As soon as they were gone, Yuri pounced.

Figuratively, of course, because he was still on strict orders to not move until his fever broke for longer than 48 hours.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Yuri demanded, Victor's eyes never leaving him.

"Nothing. What's wrong with you?" Victor asked back, voice laced with an innocence that didn't belong there.

"You're not my father," Yuri tried instead because how long did it take two people to fetch one glass of water?

"I never said I was."

"Well quit acting like it," Yuri snarled, fists clenched angrily at his blanket as he added softer, "You don't have to act so hostile towards Otabek. We're just friends."

Victor gave him a sharp look. One that made Yuri's skin crawl with nerves, and he was certain now that Victor was aware to just how frightening he could turn.

"And it's not like it matters all that much," Yuri continued because whenever Victor looked like that Yuri had the urge to babble, "He's not interested in me- not in that way anyways."

Victor blinked, ice melting from his expression, but Yuri didn't get long to ponder it as Otabek was returning to hand him a glance of water as Yuuri took his seat beside Victor, and it was the first time Yuri was relieved at their relationship because Victor was looking like that stupid harmless love-struck fool.

"Why don't you wait for me outside darling," Victor suggested with a kiss to the back of Yuuri's skull on their way out.

Yuuri gave him another look but nodded as he turned to leave. Otabek waited by the door, arms crossed with a serious expression as he waited for the inevitable.

Certainly not a coward, Victor thought approvingly because Yuri had it all wrong.

Victor wasn't his father, nor did he have any intentions of becoming his father but he was his friend and didn't want to see him hurt. He knew Yuuri shared the same sentiment- had discussed it one night when he was supposed to be sleeping- but wanted to see him happy as well and Otabek certainly made the teen happy.

"Don't think this me approving of your relationship," Victor warned lowly before his eyes flickered to where Yuri was being pestered by his grandfather, "but don't be a fool about it either."

"You think of me as foolish Victor?" Otabek inquired, tone innocent as he blinked back at him.

Victor shook his head before clarifying, "I think you're in love, and sometimes that blinds us to the true reality. All I'm saying is to try and look around that."

Otabek tilted his head as he added, "And not hurt him."

That time Victor's beam was genuine as he clapped the younger male's arm as he announced, "You're learning," before adding louder, "Bye Yuri."

He closed the door before he heard the response.

He was sure it hadn't been polite, and for whatever reason that made him smile.

Otabek hung around until Yuri was allowed back on his feet, offering his silent encouragement as he smiled softly at him. It was still strange, having him there, but he was joyful for it nevertheless. After all, his presence was one of the few that made him feel calm and almost at peace.

His first friend.

His first real crush.

"You alright?" Otabek's worried voice suddenly asked, back of his hand settling over Yuri's forehead as he added, "You turned bright red all of a sudden."

Yuri brushed the hand away as he reassured quickly, "I'm fine. It's just cold is all."

Otabek stared at him like he didn't believe him.

Yuri wouldn't believe himself either.

He turned his attention elsewhere, suddenly nervous as he crammed his hands in his pockets. His stomach was light, like it had been that time on the motorcycle and Yuri had to force those thoughts from his mind.

Something heavy settled over his shoulders, and he blinked in sudden shock before he realized it was Otabek's jacket.

His blush grew more profound as he ducked his head and muttered, "Idiot."

Otabek snorted, corners of his mouth turning upwards slightly. It made Yuri's stomach flip over itself with knots as the fire returned to his cheeks.

How was it he suddenly became the lovesick fool?

"Hey Otabek," Yuri finally spoke, voice soft as he turned to where the older male was watching him, "I- I'm really glad you're my friend."

Something dark settled across Otabek's face before it vanished. He turned his head so he wasn't looking at him as he grumbled out his agreement. Yuri tilted his head in confusion because he had honestly thought Otabek enjoyed being his friend.

Stupid.

How could anyone enjoy being your friend? Your own parents hadn't even wanted you.

Pressure welled up in the corners of his eyes, and he turned his head away, refusing to cry. Refusing to let this get to him because he had always sort of known. Not even Victor had stayed, despite how the man may have acted previously.

A hand grabbed his and he turned to see Otabek staring back at him with intense concern. Dark eyes were wide as he closed the distance between them, and Yuri knew Otabek wasn't one of emotion and he suddenly feared what was to happen next.

Their foreheads touched, Yuri's hand trapped in a tight hold and his chest felt like it was going to explode. This wasn't right. This was-

"Yuri I- please don't cry. I couldn't handle it if you did," he protested, and Yuri stared up at him through unshed tears.

His words lit a flame inside Yuri's soul.

"I'm not going to cry idiot," he protested, going to turn away but Otabek held him firmly in place, "I just- if you don't like me please don't pretend like you do. I don't want your pity."

"I'm not pitying you," Otabek promised softly, "I like you. I like you a lot."

The fire returned, engulfing Yuri in its intense heat, and he figured Otabek was the only person capable of getting away with saying such sappy things. That didn't mean he didn't have a reputation to uphold.

Using his hands, he shoved Otabek away. Otabek didn't move very far, leaving enough space between them so Yuri could stare up at him.

Good enough.

"Otabek, the truth is that I like you a lot too."

And that was most certainly not what was supposed to come out of his mouth just then.

He clamped a hand over his face, eyes wide and suddenly unsure. Otabek was silent and still, dark eyes unreadable as he regarded Yuri softly.

Then he smiled a soft affectionate smile, and if they shared a kiss on a random street in Russia then that wasn't really anybody's business.