Viktor.

It was several long minutes before security and paramedics were able to push through the crowd. After the paramedic deemed it was fine to move the unconscious skater, Viktor was lead out of the stadium with Yuuri still in his arms. The paramedic and the security guard had both offered to take Yuuri off his hands, but Viktor had insisted.

Viktor, Yuuri, and Celestino- as Viktor had quickly learned was the name of Yuuri's coach-were now tucked away in a small break room meant for employees of the ice rink. The still dead to the world Japanese skater was under a blanket on a small, beige couch.

After much arguing on Celestino's part, the paramedic had relented and left Yuuri in their care. Celestino had blamed his student's fainting on exhaustion coupled with extreme anxiety, and he promised to have Yuuri checked out later.

Viktor stared at his competitor's sleeping face from his spot on the floor in front of the sofa. Yuuri had regained some color, but his dark lashes still rested against his cheeks, fluttering lightly on occasion. Why had he pushed himself so hard? A ice skater collapsing after a program? He had never seen such a thing.

There was a gnawing feeling in the pit of Viktor's stomach telling him something else was at work. Celestino was pacing behind him and Viktor considered pestering the man, but knew it wasn't his place.

"You don't have to stick around, Viktor," Celestino pointed out, gruffly.

"I don't mind," Viktor mumbled, still gazing at Yuuri's peaceful but gaunt face.

"Really," Celestino insisted. "If the kid sees you when he wakes, he might just passed out again. He's a big fan." Viktor struggled to keep his mouth from parting in a giant toothy smile. Yuuri was a fan of his?

"I'd feel better if I could see for myself that he is alright," Viktor replied calmly, scooting closer, so that his side was against the sofa.

"Suit yourself," Celestino sighed. "I'll go get coffee. It might be a long night."

Viktor relaxed a bit when he heard the door close behind the American. Yuuri flinched in his sleep at the noise but was otherwise unaffected.

Viktor pulled out his phone and pulled up instagram. Luckily, Viktor had turned off his notifications, otherwise his phone would be beeping nonstop. Both Viktor and Yuuri's names were trending, and hundred of people had snapped and unloaded pictures of the night's proceedings. There was picture after picture of the two. Viktor racing to catch the other. Yuuri's face just as his eyes' began to slide shut. A particularly tendering looking picture of Viktor looking down at the unconscious Yuuri caught his interest. Viktor quickly saved the image and clicked his phone screen off.

He hoped this wouldn't upset Yuuri. Chris had mentioned that Yuuri was a private person. All the photos and probing comments on instagram would surely bother someone like that.

Sighing, Viktor dropped his face into his hands. Yuuri's soft breathing was rather soothing, and the skater looked tiny under a heavy wool blanket.

Viktor pushed back Yuuri's bangs and felt his forehead. His skin was clammy and cool to the touch. Furrowing his brow in worry, Viktor pulled the blanket up to his chin and tucked the sides in.

He relaxed only after he was certain Yuuri was comfortable. It was the least he could do. As a fellow skater. And a prospective friend. Viktored flushed thinking of how strange his presence must seem to Celestino.

Surely, Yuuri would only been more confused to wake up to him. Possibly annoyed. And how would he feel when he saw the pictures of Viktor carrying him?

He wanted to stay with Yuuri, and see him wake up with his own eyes. But suddenly he felt like he should make himself scarce.

A loud bang pulled him from his thoughts.

"Oh, hey." A young man had slammed the door open, his other hand still easily typing away on a cellphone. "Wait- Viktor Nikiforov?!"

If possible, the man began typing faster. Before he could answer, the man was rambling.

"Phichit Chulanont! I'm fan, not nearly as obsessively as Yuuri," the man joked as his offered his hand to shake. Viktor threw a glance back at Yuuri, and when he saw Yuuri was still sound asleep he was able to relax and return the handshake.

"I guess those photos weren't shopped, huh?" Phichit pointed out. He seemed to finally remember Yuuri's situation when his eyes locked in on the unconscious skater.

Suddenly solemn, Phichit sat down in front on the couch, next to Viktor.

"Has this happened before?" Viktor probbed after a few heavy minutes of silence. He had finally found someone who seemed to know Yuuri.

Phitchit's mouth opened slightly before he faltered. He stared at Yuuri's face as if considering something.

"Why are you here?" Phichit responded with another question.

"I wanted to be sure Yuuri is okay," Viktor answered honestly.

"But why? We trained in the same rink. I know him well enough to know you two aren't friends." Phichit argued, suddenly quite hostile. "I didn't know if you just feel bad, or if you're trying to profit off the publicity, but Yuuri doesn't deserve to be played with him."

"...You're right." Viktor admitted sheepishly. "I don't think I've ever spoken to him, really. And I do feel bad. But you can never have too many friends, and honestly it seems like Yuuri could use another friend."

Phichit's expression softened but he remained silent.
"You said that Yuuri is a fan, right? Well, I'm also happen to be a fan of his," Viktor confessed. His piece that night had been breathtaking and Viktor knew that at the very least, he would follow Yuuri's career from a distance. "I'm sure we'll find something to talk about."

"He f-fainted once before," Phichit revealed in response. His face was downcast and he was visibly tense. "It was just any other late night at the rink. He said it was nothing, that he was just tired. It seems reasonable enough. That was a year ago."

"A year ago?" Viktor echoed weakly. Yuuri had been in this condition for a year?

"I didn't not care," Phichit stressed. "It was after that that I started to really notice things. He was always counting under his breath. For the longest time I thought it was a coping mechanism for his anxiety. Eventually I put the pieces together and realized he was counting calories. Maybe that doesn't sound to bad, but there was other things-"

A soft groan from the couch silenced Phichit. After a bit of shifting and groaning, two dull brown eyes were gazing up at the ceiling. Both Viktor and Phichit were holding their breath. A minute passed, and then another.

Viktor glanced over at Phichit. The man was also carefully watching Yuuri, and the corners of his eyes were starting to tighten with worry.

Viktor gulped. Was he going to be okay? He had no idea what effects fainting had. Before he realized what he was doing, he had reached out a hand and was gently shaking Yuuri's shoulder.

Yuuri snapped out of it immediately, bolting into a sitting position. The soft groan that escaped him lips before he slumped back down was enough to get Phichit involved.

"Yuuri? How do you feel?" Phichit asked softly.

"Phichit? I-I am fine," Yuuri mumbled groggily. His hands raked down his body looking for something, and Phichit quickly scooped his blue frames off a coffee table. Pressing the glasses into Yuuri's hands, Phichit smiled kindly at his friend.

"Thanks, Phichit." Yuuri smiled back, and his chocolate colored eyes seemed to brighten a bit. Only after slipping on his glasses did Yuuri notice that is wasn't Phichit's hand that shook him. "Viktor Nikiforov?"

"Glad you're awake," Viktor tried his best to sound casual. Like he hadn't laid down Yuuri's limp body on that couch less than an hour ago. Like images of the two weren't currently trying their best to break the internet.

"What are you doing here?" Yuuri gulped, "Uh, I mean…"

"He wanted to make sure you were okay," Phichit supplied calmly.

Yuuri only seemed more baffled at Phichit's answer. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You fainted. After your short program." Viktor choked out. There had to be something wrong if Yuuri didn't even remember.

"Oh," Yuuri mumbled, massaging his temples gently. "Right-no, I remember. It just took me a second."

Yuuri sat up again, but slower this time.

"Maybe you should take it easy," Viktor suggestly lightly.

"I'm fine, don't worry about it," Yuuri blushed intensely, and it took Viktor a few moments to realize he was staring. "Uh, I didn't get much sleep and probably pushed myself little too hard."Phichit hummed lowly, looking scared or disappointed, Viktor couldn't decide.

"We need to talk, Yuuri." At Phichit's words, Yuuri's eyes seemed to glaze over once again, this time with unshed tears. Before Viktor could be sure of what he was seeing, Yuuri ducked his head down.

"I really don't think there's anything to talk about," Yuuri mumbled weakly. He had physically pulled away from Phichit, not seeming to notice it brought him closer to Viktor.

Viktor, however, couldn't focus on anything else. When he had held Yuuri in his arms early he had been completely panicked. Lights and cameras were flashing in his face, and Yuuri felt too cold, and too light in his arms.

Now in this dim, musky break room Yuuri looked so young and vulnerable. He was still wearing the costume from his routine, now with a team Japan jacket thrown on top. The jacket was a size or two too big and swallowed up his narrow form.

Viktor stared openly, wondering how someone so thin and delicate could look so strong on the ice. More importantly, Viktor wondered how much longer he'd be able to in his condition.

Viktor had no clue how long Phichit spent trying to get his attention.

"Viktor?" Phichit asked in a tone and volume that made it clear it wasn't the first time.

"Sorry," Viktor flushed as he pulled his eyes away from Yuuri. "What was that?"

"Do you mind?" Phichit probbed gently, "I think Yuuri and I better talk alone."

Viktors head snapped back to Yuuri. He looked just as eager to talk to Phichit as Viktor was to leave. Sighing, Viktor stood up anyways, knowing it wasn't his place. At least not yet.

"You guys are going to be in Russia for a few more days right?" Viktor asked casually, "Don't be a stranger. I could show you around."

Phichit smiled and nodded. Yuuri looked perplexed and anxious but blushed all the same. Before Viktor could ponder that, he forced himself to walk out of the room.

If he wanted Yuuri to trust him, to be his friend, he needed to give him space. They needed to met on even footing.

Confident in his thinking, Viktor was on to the next part of his plan: gathering as much information about Yuuri Katsuki as humanly possible.

Phichit.

"Yuuri. Yuuri," Phichit pleaded softly, "Just look at me."

A tense silence had permeated the room. Finally Yuuri met Phichit's eyes, but by then an icy determination had settled into Yuuri. His lips were tightly closed, as if he had to physically hold in his secrets. And his eyes were clear and calm, a feat his anxiety usually prevented.

"You're not okay, Yuuri," Phichit stated firmly, ignoring his friend's resistance. He had been silent for too long. Too many times had he not mentioned the skipped meals. The obsessive exercising. The clothes that seems to get looser each time he saw Yuuri. And the counting. The fucking counting.

Phichit had been skating long enough to recognize the signs of an eating disorder. The pressure to be in the best shape possible was tremendous. Everyone wanted to be the best. To be the first on the ice and the first off. To have the perfect routine with the best jumps. To be lighter and jump higher. The industry practically romanticized eating disorders.

Even a mental illness had turned into a competition. Girls piled into locker rooms to compare their weights, and lived off rice cakes and chewing gum. He had used bathrooms in skating rinks where the person in the next stall was purging shamelessly. Phichit wondered sadly if it had been Yuuri any of those times.

However, there was still plenty of stigma. Not many disordered people lasted long. They got too weak and too tired. He could recall several fellow skater that just stopped one showing up to the rink day, almost as if they had dropped off the face of the universe. He had heard horror stories of heart attacks mid practice.

Despite all these, everything was still swept under the rug. The only thing more untalked about than eating disorders was boys with eating disorders.

Maybe that was part of why Phichit had pushed this off for so long. He had convinced himself that it was his only option. He couldn't accuse Yuuri of something like that. What if he got offended? What if it was true?

Phichit took a deep breath and strengthened his own resolve.

"You're not okay," Phichit repeated, letting his pain and worry leak into his words this time.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Yuuri denied, his lip barely quivering.

"You're not okay, and you should see a doctor. You need to see a doctor," Phichit insisted, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder.

Yuuri sneered, a foreign and unfamiliar expression on his face, before pushing Phichit's hand away. "You don't know what you're talking about, Phichit. I can take care of yourself."

"Obviously, you can't. If you cared about yourself you'd eat more, workout less, and not count everything!" Phichit didn't mean to yell, but he couldn't understand how Yuuri didn't see it.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Yuuri bit out. "I am trying here, okay?"

"Trying to do what, die?" Phichit's voice softened, "I know things have been rough, but please, Yuuri. Talk to me. Or a therapist or a doctor. Just please talk to someone."

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm fine. Everything is going to be fine. Y-you don't understand! It's not as bad as it looks. It's the stress. I just needed something to focus on," Yuuri was pleading now, the nonchalance for just a moment ago nowhere to be found.

"You're not fine, Yuuri. You're just not. And you haven't been for a long time," Phichit felt the tears pooling up in his eyes and he recognized the burn at the back of his throat. "I should I said something earlier. And I'm so sorry for that. I'm so sorry, Yuuri."

Yuuri wasn't listening.

He looked a wreck. Pacing the room, his hands were tugging at his hair. Tears were streaming down pale cheeks. His breathing was fast and choppy.

Phichit immediately recognized the panic attack for what it was. He shouldn't have shouted. He reached out a hand, desperate to help his friend.

Yuuri jumped away from the extending limb like he had been electrocuted. Phichit tried to hide how much it hurt, but the look on Yuuri's face let him know he had failed.

"Oh geez," a gruff voice drew Phichit's attention. Celestino had slipped in at some point, as stood by the door with drink carrier in one hand and a paper bag in the other. The man looked completely at a loss.

Dropping everything onto the table, Celestino dragged a tired hand through his hair. He seemed be looking anywhere but Yuuri who was also getting more panicked. An idea must have crossed his mind, and he picked the paper bag back up and dumped its contents onto the table. A few muffins rolled across the surface of the table and one even rolled onto the ground, but Celestino didn't seem to care.

Without missing a beat, Celestino waved the bag at Yuuri, who snatched it eagerly.

Still pacing frantically, Yuuri began breathing into the bag. Celestino only spoke after Yuuri had calmed enough to sit down.

"You're off the ice until further notice, Yuuri."

"What?! No-" Yuuri jumped to his feet immediately, swaying slightly.

"Yes, Yuuri. I'm sorry but maybe you need a break. Maybe you could go back to Japan and see your-" Celestion began.

"No. No. I'll go back to Detroit, even if you make me sit out every practice." Yuuri pleaded with energy Phichit didn't know he had left.

"Either you go home, get better, and join us next season, or, you see a doctor as soon as we land in Detroit." Celestino laid out the terms firmly, but Phichit could see how much it was hurting their coach.

Yuuri paused. "What if I go back to Japan and...g-get better in time to finish the season?"

Yuuri was barely able to choke out the words and immediately looked like he regretted it.

Celestino stared long and hard at Yuuri. Phichit would be sad to see Yuuri go, but knew this was what was best for his friend.

"The cup of China is in a few months. We can talk then. When you're better," Celestino relented finally. Yuuri nodded solemnly before collapsing back onto the couch, and dropping his head into his hands.

Celestino moved closer and laid a hand down on the skater's shoulder.

"I'm really sorry, kid. I've been in the business long enough. I should have seen the signs. I guess I was hoping you'd pull yourself out of it. But it shouldn't have all been on you. And I won't let it go on like this any longer," Celestino's voice was softer and more gentle than usually.

Yuuri didn't reply, or lift his head from his hands, but he didn't shake off Celestino's hand either.

The three of them gathered around, trying to find the words to make everything right again. To make Yuuri alright again.

Eventually Celestino passed out the coffees, and no one pushed Yuuri when he didn't touch the muffin set in front of him. No one had the courage to push any further that day, least he truly breaks.

When everyone was finished, and all the trash was collected they finally vacated the break room. Phichit only realized how late it had gotten when they walked out of the rink and were met with the pitch black night sky.

The cab ride to the hotel was short and quiet. No one knew what more could be said. And no one knew what needed to be said.

When it was finally just Phichit and Yuuri, heading to their respective rooms, Phichit found himself incapable of the joking and jesting that was normal of him.

He couldn't even spit out a goodnight before Yuuri had closed the door to his room behind him. Phichit knew this had to be the right choice. But somehow he still felt like everything was falling short.

Letting himself into his own room, Phichit vowed to do better. He had known Yuuri for four years now. When they first met, some might haven considered Yuuri a touch chubby. Even then he had been odd about food. Sometimes impulsively eating and sometimes nauseated at the sight of food.

As the years past, Yuuri grew more strict with himself and it showed on his body. Initially people would compliment or praise Yuuri for his dedication. Not that Yuuri ever seemed happy with any comments.

Then as time passed and Yuuri got smaller and smaller, the compliments were traded out from whispering and sidelong glances. People treated Yuuri like glass, to afraid to say anything to his face. It was like a bubble had formed around Yuuri. And with no one willing to interfere, it only got worse.

Phichit could barely recognize Yuuri as the stammering but kind skater he met four years ago. He was a skeleton of who he used to be. This newer Yuuri was always focused on something no one else could see. Irritable and tired, even if he refused to admit it.

Phichit had no idea what the future held for Yuuri Katsuki. But he prayed his friend lived long enough to find out.

A/N: And here is chapter 2, nearly 8 months later. Writing this was really hard for me and I apologize for how long this is taking. I'm not a doctor or a therapist, just someone trying to use writing to heal my own wounds, like I'm sure so many you guys are. I wasn't in a good place when I wrote the first chapter, hence the delay. But in light of my own experiences I trying to rediscover my love of writing. And maybe try to write something that will make someone happy while I'm at it. Any comments or critiques are welcome. I understand how damaging it is when literature/film/etc portray eating disorders as something glamorous or desirable in any way. I'm trying my best not to romanticize, but if I'm not doing well enough please let me know.