JGMAS 7

Yuuri lifted his head. His head still lowered out of wasn't to hide his embarrassment. "Then . . ." He murmured under his breath, "Let's go."

And although he shrank from the eyes of the people around him, and the eyes seemed to melt him to the bone, he took Viktor's hand.

"I . . . I know a good place . . . Close to my place . . . Shall we g-go?" He lifted his head only to peak through the edge of his glasses, not wanting to look fully into the other man's eyes.

The other man smiled. "I'd be happy to."

With that, not letting go of Viktor's hand, seeming to be a life line to sanity, he lead the way.

Although the crowd they had left behind at the building was behind them, there was still the trailing gazes of those they walked past down the city main road.

Viktor seemed to acknowledge Yuuri's discomfort, as he managed to walk beside his companion.

About three streets away from Yuuri's apartment block, he lead them into a smaller and thinner street.

As the clatter and calls of the small cafes and restaurants closed or opened for the evening business life, men and women in suits entering the bars and cheap shops to whisk the night away until the early morning hours of the next day.

After a few twists and turns down various alleyways, they reached a small Japanese restaurant.

Barcelona Evening written in English and shinning in the chipping silver paint.

The outside of the shop presented artfully done photos of skaters, their promotional posters from both Japan and international.

"Once I moved here . . . I uh . . . Found this place with Phichit . . . We wanted a place that had good food and played the skating championship when it was on." At first, Yuuri was stiff when he spoke, but slowly, his guard lowered and a small smile appeared on his face. "We hated the other places because they were loud, busy or just didn't have skating on. Then we found this place . . . I think . . . I think we've been going here for 4 years now . . ." Yuuri let out a chuckle. "Time flies . . ."

Viktor silently watched Yuuri mutter, his eyes never moving from the other man who held his hand.

"I . . . I actually desperately wanted to see the tournament . . . 4 years ago I mean . . . It was . . ." He turned to look at the Russian, his face reflected his embarrassment yet slight sadness. "It was the year . . . You announced your retirement . . . You were going to retire at the end of the final."

Yuuri combed a hand through his still messy hair, finishing finally with, "I didn't have a TV . . . And I wanted to watch until the end . . ."

Yuuri then turned and hung his head, seeming to realise what he had done. "S-Sorry . . . I didn't mean to go on a rant . . . Sorry." He repeated.

Viktor let go of his hand, turning to stand in front of the other, he placed both hands on his shoulders.

"Yuuri. You don't need to apologise." He said, his voice clear and crisp. "You act like just breathing is something you need to apologise for."

"I-I'm sorry I just-" He was interrupted by a gloved finger on his lip.

"Don't say that. Ok? Not until you actually need to say it." He murmured, no longer loud, his voice seemed to indicate these words were only for Yuuri. "I like that part of you. But to see you feel everything you do is wrong . . . It's a shame to see such kindness be hidden by your passive nature."

He then took his finger away. And for a moment, just a moment. There was pure silence.

Yuuri then nodded, his face no longer showing any sign of guilt but rather a passive smile.

"T-Thank you Viktor . . ." He uttered. Looking down to the ground.

With that, Viktor took Yuuri's hand and pulled him to the restaurant. And with a push and ring of a bell, they opened the door to the dim yet warm, candle lit, European restaurant.

The warmth of the restaurant was a comfort for the two in the cold of the outside. And the small tables, all set with western cutlery and image of skaters along the walls gave a feel they were no longer within Japan, apart from the menu and labels on drinks.

They were sat at a table in the comfy corner, the TV portraying a rerun of a Canadian skater Jean-Jacques bowing over the flowers and presents falling onto the rink as his final skate completed.

With a look at the menu, and with small advice on food on the part of a confused Viktor they ordered their drinks and dinner.

They silently seemed to begin feeling discomfort by the awkward silence that approached. Neither not knowing very well what to say to the other.

The small clatter of knives and forks echoed the hall as people murmured and soft bouts of laughter came from the other customers.

"So . . ." Viktor began. "You're . . . A fan? . . . Of my old work as a skater, I mean."

"Oh . . . Uh . . . Yes very much so." Yuuri murmured. Shuffling in his seat.

"I-Is that weird . . . ?" He asked, but he then suddenly answered his own question, "Of course it is . . . Anyone would be weirded out by being with a fan from when they were . . . A famous gold-medal skater . . ."

Viktor gave a small laugh. "That became specific."

"Well . . . I'm not sure if it's different for other types of celebrities." He murmured in his defence.

Viktor let out another soft chuckle as he then answered. "It would've been . . . If it was back then."

Yuuri tilted his head in polite confusion, "Back then?"

"Uh . . ." For the first time Viktor seemed discomforted, even uncomfortable with the subject. "Well . . . When I was a athlete . . . You get a lot of attention . . . And admirers . . . I didn't really have anyone close to me who I felt that sort of way towards."

Viktor cautiously scratched the back of his neck as he tried to translate and control his discomfort into construction as he continued? "It was mainly . . . You know . . . One night stands and that sort of thing . . ."

Yuuri was the one that was silent. Although there was a slight glint of embarrassment at the subject at hand, he still showed maturity and listened before passing judgement.

"I also couldn't do much with someone like a fan . . . Because of the backlash and hate we would both receive."

He wondered in his head why he was saying so much. Perhaps it was due to Yuuri already spouting a dark secret of their own.

"Besides, back then . . . Anyone who could've dated me, whether fan, fellow skater or not, should get a hard time by the public . . ."

After a short silence, Viktor raised his head, taking a deep breath through his nose before giving a weary smile.

He then reached to touch the hand of the Yuuri's which lay on the table.

"But . . . Things are different now . . . I have time . . . I have privacy . . . But . . . Most importantly," He looked up, his weariness fading as his usual soft and kindhearted confidence returned, "I actually have someone I want to be with."

With that Viktor gave the other man's hand a soft squeeze, as if he thought Yuuri would Ice again not get his hint.