Turn-Around

When Nikolai Plisetsky passes away peacefully in his sleep, the first person to get notified is Otabek.

His phone is ringing non-stop during practice, so much so that his coach is getting pissed off and asks him to take care of whatever asshole is calling. Otabek is surprised to see Yuri's name and picture flashing on the screen, not through a skype call, but through an actual phone call. Early on in their friendship, even before they began dating, they agreed to only call through Skype so their phone bills don't jack up. They save phone calls for very important news.

Meaning, that Yuri has been trying to connect with him for at least five minutes now, so coach and money be damned, Otabek answers the phone. The first thing that comes to him is the sound of soft sobs, and he quickly escapes to a quieter part of the rink, away from the music that he accidentally left on. "Yurka?" he asks softly, and another sob cuts into him through the reciever. "Yurka, what's wrong?"

"Dedushka," Yuri's voice breaks, "Dedushka died last night."

Otabek stops breathing. He almost drops his phone, but ultimately something has to fall to the floor, and his entire body just succumbs to gravity as he slides down the wall to sit. He lets out a shuddering breath. "How are you?"

"Fucked up." Otabek nods, even though the blond can't see. "I want to see you."

"I don't think I can go to Russia that easily this time, Yura. My coach is still kicking my ass over the last time I missed practice without his permission in the middle of the season." Yuri whines, and Otabek's heart breaks because it's not a stereotypical Yuri whine, but instead it's more upset and it makes Otabek want to cry too.

"I love you, Beka."

"I love you, too, Yura," Otabek says, pressing a hand to his face as tears sting in the corner of his eyes. "I'll see what I can do, okay? For now you have to stay strong for me."

Yuri doesn't respond verbally, only sniffs.

"Yurka, can you do that for me?"

"I can try," he finally responds, and the line cuts off. In the safety of the empty hallway, Otabek allows himself a few minutes to cry.

Yuuri calls Otabek later that night, long after Otabek has eaten dinner. He's settled comfortably on the couch when his phone goes off with the LINE notification, which Yuuri recommended to keep in contact with him when they can't get through him via Yuri. He answers it, readjusting the blanket he's thrown over himself when it slides off.

"I'm assuming Yuri called you?"

"He did, earlier today," Otabek replies, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. The severity of the news is starting to give him a headache. "Is he alright?"

"Vitya's with him right now. He's...not okay, but he's not bad. I think it's shock. I know that I couldn't really...feel when I lost my old dog right away."

Otabek hums in response, sitting up. "I feel like shit that I can't be there right now. But my coach mentioned a while ago that he's going to be going to Russia to meet with some other coaches in a month or so. Maybe I could hitch a ride with him and visit?"

"If you can, that would be amazing," Yuuri sighs, as though a huge weight is lifted off of his shoulders. "By chance, is there any way you could...I don't know, send something over? I think having something of yours will make him feel better."

"I can see if I can express-ship my Kazakhstan jacket," Otabek says, standing up and making his way over to the closet, removing said jacket and resting on on the arm of the couch."How are you and Viktor taking it?"

"Not too well, to be honest with you." Yuuri is clearly holding back some emotion, if the sudden tension spike in his voice means anything. "Nikolai was such a kind man, you know. Was like a grandfather to all of us. Taught me how to make those katsudon piroshki."

Otabek snorts, a few tears falling. "He was so happy with our relationship. Every time I would go visit he'd be so excited to see me. And..." he breaks off momentarily, a sob ripping out of his throat. "He was so proud of Yuri." He quickly tries to calm himself down. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You should see Vitya. He's crying probably just as much as Yuri." There's a pause and some rustling, and then the soft voice of Viktor whispering to his husband somehow reaches the speaker. "I have to go, Otabek. I'll keep you updated?"

"If it's not too much trouble, that would be great. Thank you, Yuuri."

A week later, the world can literally feel the missing presence of Yuri Plisetsky. The last time he posted on Instagram was the day after Otabek found out about Nikolai's passing. The blond had posted a simple picture of him and his grandfather, with the date as the caption along with a green heart and a rose. The comments were spammed with condolences and best wishes.

Yuri hasn't been seen on Instagram since.

Yuuri has kept to his promise though, and sends a few photos a day. That's how Otabek knows that his jacket has made it to St. Petersburg, because one of his favorite pictures he's gotten is one of Yuri curled up the couch with his jacket. In almost every picture, Yuri isn't smiling, however. But Otabek doesn't expect much else, honestly. Yuri isn't in the best spot.

Viktor calls him at the end of the week. Otabek has just come home from practice, and he wants nothing more than to just sit at his kitchen table and eat something. "I talked to your coach today." "My coach?" Otabek asks. "How'd you manage that?"

"I used my connections with Yurio. Told your coach that I'm basically the only family Yurio's got left. Had to give him some backstory; I guess you didn't tell him about Nikolai?"

"I didn't feel that it was my place." Otabek opens the fridge and peers in, grabbing an apple. "Besides, the media is having a shitstorm with the news since Yuri posted that last photo."

"I asked him if it was possible for you to come visit. He was hesitant about it, given what happened when Yurio was over there."

Otabek chuckles. "I wanted to hang out with my boyfriend and not have to worry about practice, is that a crime?"

"Otabek, your retirement is inching nearer, you do know that, right? Your coach is just looking out for you." Viktor sighs. "Anyway, he said in a week, after the conference here, you can come visit. I've already bought your ticket. You won't stay for long, a few days only, but it should be enough to possibly up Yurio's spirits."

That upcoming weekend, Otabek tunes in to the livestream to see what Yuri's theme will be for the season. Compared to the other skaters, Yuri looks like an upset mess, and Otabek bites his lip. He's so worried for his boyfriend.

When it's Yuri's turn, he steps up to the microphone. The audience goes silent, and through the grainy screen, Otabek can see Yuri take in a deep breath and stare into the camera. "Dedushka," he says, and squares his shoulders. Otabek covers his mouth as Yuri steps away, straight into Viktor's embrace.

He loves Yuri Plisetsky, but he's never loved Yuri Plisetsky more than he does now.

When Otabek arrives at Viktor's apartment, Yuri is lounging on the couch, a pocky stick in his mouth, half-eaten, Otabek's jacket wrapped around his shoulders. His green eyes are wide as he stares at the door. Otabek opens his arms and Yuri stumbles to his feet, rushing over to wrap his arms around his boyfriend's waist. "Beka, you're here! I thought you said you weren't able to."

It's not a usual Yuri-tackle, which means Yuri is still very far from alright.

"Thank Viktor, he's the one that pulled some strings." Otabek presses a soft kiss to Yuri's collarbone. "I can only stay for a few days though. Hopefully we'll make the best of them, right?"

Yuri nods into Otabek's hair, and the older man nods a greeting when Yuuri steps into the living room. "I have ingredients for katsudon piroshki. You guys want dinner?"

"Yes, of course!" Viktor prances behind his husband, planting a wet kiss to the dark-haired man's cheek. "Come you two, let's get Otabek settled while Yuuri gets dinner ready."

Yuri and Otabek shuffle their way to Yuri's bedroom down the hall, and Otabek sets his suitcase down next to the large bed. While his back is turned, Yuri presses the team Kazakhstan to him. "Here," he says quietly, eyes locked with the floor when Otabek takes his jacket. "It doesn't smell like you anymore."

"Understandable," Otabek replies, removing his sweater and throwing the jacket on. "Can't have you without my scent for too long now can we?" Instead of replying, Yuri hugs Otabek. The Kazakh man immediately holds the blond close when he feels Yuri's shoulders begin to shake.

No words are exchanged, and eventually Otabek has to sit down on the bed because he isn't sure that Yuri can stand for much longer. He whispers sweet nothings into Yuri's ear. Soon enough, the smell of pork cutlets wafts into the room, and Otabek nudges Yuri gently. "I can smell food. Do you want to head over to the kitchen?"

Yuri nods, swiping his sleeve over his eyes to dry them.

"Yakov is really angry that I'm bothering to compete this season," Yuri tells him quietly late that night, while they're side-by-side in Yuri's bed, looking up at the ceiling. Yuri clearly isn't ready to fall asleep and Otabek is afraid to, only because he doesn't want Yuri to happen to wake up in the middle of the night and have to deal with emotions all on his own.

"Why is that?" Otabek whispers back, hand blindly scampering around the covers to find Yuri's slim fingers, intertwining them. "Shouldn't he be happy that his most prized skater is still willing to continue the season?"

"He thinks it would be better for me to take it off so I can grieve."

Otabek frowns. "You're mourning in your own way. Choosing to honor your grandfather as your theme is celebrating his life and the time he spent it with you. Most people wouldn't do that." He turns his head to look at Yuri. "The least Yakov can do in this situation is support you like we have been."

Yuri, with the moon reflecting against his face, smiles softly. "You three are more than I could have ever asked for, Beshka." He leans in close and presses his lips gently to Otabek's.

"Why were Yuuri and Viktor there with you at the conference? Both of them are retired."

"Support. Familial support, at least. I didn't feel comfortable being up there on my own, and having them on that stage really helped when I revealed my theme."

Otabek hums and runs his thumb against the skin of Yuri's hand. "I love you, Yuri. And I'm so proud of you."

Yuri smiles again, and his eyes flutter closed. His breath evens out, and Otabek guides the blond's hand to his mouth to kiss it. "But I'm also scared for the ruin."

Otabek leaves a few days later, his Kazakhstan jacket left behind for Yuri to keep close. Social media is still untouched by the blond, to the point where Yuuri is still sending Otabek daily texts. Apparently, Yuri is putting everything he has into his routines, which is why he hasn't even been messaging his boyfriend. It's difficult to get him off the ice rink at the end of the day, and at home he's practicing his turns and leaps in the empty spaces.

Otabek can feel the breakdown coming.

And the breakdown does come, at the first competition of the season. Otabek is watching via livestream since his own competition is in a few days and he's not allowed to go see Yuri perform live. For once, though, he isn't too sad about missing the skate.

"Representing Russia, Yuri Plisetsky," the announcer says, and the blond makes his way onto the ice. He's wearing a royal blue one-piece outfit, with violet ruffles along the chest. His hair is left down, with a braid plaited at the side of his head.

He doesn't send a thumbs-up at the camera. Otabek bites his lip.

"Plisetsky's theme this year is honoring his grandfather. He is skating to the American film 'Anastasia's 'Once Upon a December'. According to Plisetsky, his grandfather adored the film and often sang the song to Plisetsky when he was a child." Otabek zones out right after that, choosing to focus more on Yuri's skating. Because the song is slow, Yuri's moves are slow and precise, and even though the camera was far off from his face, Otabek can see the clear grief etched on it. This would clearly be one of the skates where emotion would win over technique for the audience.

And then the first jump comes.

Yuri flubs it. In fact, he flubs every jump after that as well. When Otabek tunes back to the announcer, even he is surprised at the sudden change in Yuri's normally flawless routines. Otabek watches the rest of the routine with a hand over his mouth in shock. In all the years he's known Yuri and watched Yuri perform, he's never seen the blond make so many mistakes.

The next day, Yuri skates to a traditional Russian folk song, which Otabek manages to catch as being called "Troika". It's a beautiful piece, played on a balalaika, clearly from the olde days, and must have some connection to Nikolai if Yuri is skating to it, but the announcers don't mention it. They're too busy being stunned over the fact that Yuri only manages to land one jump today.

At the end of that skate Yuri is on his back on the ice, hands over his eyes, chest heaving. Otabek isn't sure if it's just Yuri catching his breath or if he's crying, but he goes with the latter.

Otabek doesn't stick around the livestream to watch the medal ceremony, only because it's way too obvious that Yuri doesn't make the podium.

Yuuri doesn't send him any pictures for days after that, instead texts Otabek that Yuri has locked himself away in his room and refuses to come out for anything other than food and bathroom breaks. Viktor and Yuuri are doing their absolute best to help, but Yuri is young, he's hurting, and he's an emotional mess. Otabek didn't expect anything different.

One day, Yuuri voices how Otabek hasn't really tried to get in contact with Yuri since the one time he visited. When he thinks about it, Otabek doesn't have a concrete answer. Why hasn't he tried to contact Yuri after the failed competition? He isn't disappointed—well, that's a lie, he is, but he's not disappointed enough to not talk to his boyfriend. Was he scared of how Yuri would react? Of the tears and the wave of emotions he would no doubt be faced with should they Skype?

He settles for telling Yuuri, "I think he needs more time to grieve on his own."

The pause in the conversation lasts an uncomfortable amount of time. "You saw what happened at the competition, right? I don't think Viktor and I are enough to help him through this. He's lucky he's a world champion and that the Grand Prix hasn't told him he can't compete."

Otabek takes a swig of the beer he's been slowly drinking. "He's competing in the Grand Prix? Even after fucking up as bad as he has?"

"Otabek, what the fuck? Do you even care about your boyfriend?"

"Of course I do!" Otabek shouts. "But I'm giving him space. I know that boy better than anyone else does, and I know for a fact that he needs a break from everyone. Why do you think he stopped posting online? He wants to be alone to figure out what to do. I saw him early on because that's clearly what he wanted. But then he stopped texting me so I left him alone." Otabek storms into his kitchen, slams his beer down on the counter, and rests his hip against it. "When he wants my company back, he'll text me and I'll talk with him. For now, I'm respecting his wishes."

"So are you telling me that what Viktor and I are doing isn't helping him in any way?" Yuuri huffs, and Otabek can hear some commotion in the background. Viktor must have walked into whatever room Yuuri was in. "That we aren't doing everything we can?"

"I'm not saying that. I'm just saying that it's not the best way to help him. It's obvious he wants to be alone, but you and Viktor don't seem to understand that." Otabek presses his hand against his face. He didn't want to argue with Yuuri when the call started, but now it seems like this fight is getting far too out of hand. He admires Yuuri; the Japanese man is very respectable, and the last thing Otabek wants to do it have a bad relationship with him. "Listen, Yuuri, I love you, I really do, and I don't want to argue with you tonight."

Yuuri sighs through the phone. "Neither do I. I shouldn't be getting angry with you, I'm sorry." Otabek smiles, even though the Japanese man can't see. "I understand that you know Yuri very well, but remember that we have known him personally for far longer."

"Yes, I remember. You two must remember that I know him on a much deeper level."

"I think it's safe to say that we both have very varying stances on this. Arguing isn't going to help Yurio. We need to think about what we can do once he's ready to face us."

Otabek takes another sip of his beer, moving back to the couch. "You and Viktor are going to have to keep close eye on him, especially while he practices. When he's angry Yuri tends to overdo things."

Yuuri hums into the receiver. There's some rustling and then Viktor takes over. "Hello, Otabek!"

Otabek winces at the loud voice. "Hello, Viktor," he greets. Honestly he would prefer to talk with Yuuri about the blond, but he guesses that in the end it doesn't matter who gets the information he wants to convey. "How are you?"

"I'm doing pretty well, actually." Otabek can hear the faint smile in his voice. "Given the circumstances, at least. What about you? Is your training going well for the Grand Prix Finals?"

"It is," Otabek replies, running his finger around the rim of his beer can. "I'm pretty confident in my routines. Is Yuri going to perform the same skates he did for the last comp?"

"Hopefully." Viktor sighs, and Otabek can understand his exhaustion. Dealing with Yuri for these past few weeks has been rough on everyone. Even more so on the few people that were constantly with him. "I don't think he's given up hope but...honestly we don't know what he's thinking. He's not exactly expressing himself through words. Unless they're curses."

Otabek supposes that in itself is good enough, especially since cursing is very much Yuri's style, and chuckles softly. "At least he's still got his...colorful vocabulary."

Viktor laughs.

"Tell Yuuri to keep me updated the best he can, alright?" Otabek swallows hard. "Tell Yura I love him, and good luck."

The next time Otabek hears from Yuri is when the Grand Prix Finals finally roll around.

And he can tell there's been a huge improvement.

Yuri still doesn't tackle him, which is fine, really, Otabek is honestly kind of glad that his knees can take a break from having to catch a lot of weight in such a short amount of time. But he does reach down and pecks Otabek's lips first, leaving the Kazakh man pleasantly surprised. Yuri hasn't initiated anything while they were together in a while. "Hi, Beka," he whispers, brushing their noses together.

"Yura," Otabek greets back, leaning up a little to kiss the blond again. He's missed kissing Yuri. "How are you?"

"Better." The two of them slowly begin to make their way to their joint hotel room, courtesy of their coaches. "Ready to get that gold for Dedushka. What about you?"

"Ready to get silver to make your dream come true."

Yuri huffs, and they step into the elevator. He rests his hip against the wall as Otabek presses the button for their floor. Even after all the shit and the practices he's sure to have had, Yuri still looks absolutely amazing. "You're that willing to give up gold?"

Otabek glances up at the blond. "Of course. Anything for you."

Yuri bites his lip.

"This is where you tell me I'm a sap and to shut the fuck up while gently punching me in the shoulder," Otabek teases, and Yuri does punch him in the shoulder, before grabbing him by the arm and pressing their lips together. "Or, you can do that."

"Har-har," Yuri laughs as the elevator doors open, and the two file out to find their room. "I missed doing all that romantic mushy crap with you. I wasn't myself last time you visited."

Otabek smiles softly. "We have plenty of time to make up for that, Yurka."

The blond yawns. They're pretty jet-lagged, and it's relatively late at night, so sleep is a pretty accurate plan of action. They both strip down and Otabek has to remind Yuri to brush his teeth because he looks about ready to fall asleep on his feet. They fall into bed together, arms linked together, and fall into dreamland quickly. At first, Otabek is a little nervous about falling asleep, knowing that Yuri is prone to nightmares according to Yuuri, but he lets himself drift off.

Turns out, Yuri doesn't have any unpleasant dreams tonight.

Otabek is on his toes when Yuri steps onto the ice. The Russian skates over to where Otabek is standing by the rink's perimeter, thumb lifting into their signature thumbs-up. "Davai," Otabek whispers, and Yuri leans down to steal a kiss. The older man blinks, surprised. Yuri's never kissed him in public, in front of cameras like this. Their relationship has always been exclusive to Instagram and their group of friends. Otabek can already see the thousands of tags on Instagram—all of them reposts of this kiss caught on camera.

But he can't exactly tell himself that he minds it. He's way too happy that he got a kiss from his perfectly amazing boyfriend. "What did I do to deserve that?" he whispers against Yuri's lips, going up on his toes for more when Yuri pulls away. He's clearly drunk off of the affection.

"You've supported me this whole time," Yuri mumbles back, pressing his lips against Otabek's a second time, and then a third. Faintly, they can hear an excitable Viktor gushing to his husband about them from the other side of the arena. "I love you, Beka."

"Love you too, Yurka." Otabek combs his fingers through Yuri's loose hair. He doesn't exactly know how he feels about this sudden display of affection—it's a brand new thing for the blond, but he just chalks it up to Yuri being on his own for such a long time. Away from Otabek and away from all the romance.

Away from normalcy.

Yuri backs away and skates on over to the center of the ice, spreading his arms out at the sides to take in a deep breath, and the announcers begin their rants. It seems as though they're just as nervous about Yuri based on his previous performances as everyone else is. "Representing Russia, Yuri Plisetsky." The crowd roars in response, a few teenage girl screams echoing against the walls—the Angels. They've been surprisingly tame ever since the news of Nikolai broke on Yuri's Instagram. "Despite his poor season, he's determined to redeem himself here at the Prix. He is skating to the American film's 'Anastasia's 'Once Upon a December'."

The music begins, nice and slow as it has been all of the other times Otabek has heard this piano's tune, and Otabek holds his breath. He hopes that what the announcers said will be true and that Yuri will properly prove to the world that he is deserved of the title of Ice Tiger—maybe even the Russian Fairy. The first jump comes, Yuri increases his speed a bit, turns his body, and into the air he goes—

He nails it. Arms up, perfect landing, no falls; a beautifully executed move, and the crowd goes wild. It seems as though the noise doesn't even faze the skater as he continues his routine, landing all his jumps and performing his step sequence to absolute perfection.

When the music dies down, he barely catches himself from falling to his knees, instead covering his mouth with his hands and staring up at the ceiling, as if looking up at Nikolai.

And Otabek, on the sidelines, clapping while trying his hardest to not cry, knows that Nikolai is watching over his grandson.

His free skate goes as well as his short, and it's after that performance that Yuri falls to his knees in tears, knowing that he did his very best and that his grandfather would be proud. He then stands back up and skates over to Otabek at the kiss-and-cry, throwing himself at the shorter man, legs wrapping around Otabek's waist.

A Yuri-tackle. Otabek's missed this so much. He's missed his beautiful gold-medalist so much.

❤️️ y-katsuki, otabek-altin, v-nikiforov & 24,748 others

yuri-plisetsky for the longest time, I've been off of social media in an attempt to heal after the death of my dedushka. This season I skated for him. I wasn't myself for the beginning, and I apologize to my Angels for it, but I also have all of you to thank for being by my side during this hard time. But the person I have to give my most thanks to is my dearest boyfriend, Otabek. I couldn't have done this without his support, even if it was from a distance. Thank you, Beka. I love you. And Dedushka, because I know you're watching, I love you. This gold is for you. I miss you.

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author's notes:
im abroad in poland rn so imma try to poop out fics when i get the time
sorry not sorry for sadness tho
lmao if youve been with me for a while yall know i love my tragedy throne
follow my instagram eternalwhiterose