The soft scrape of the ice graces his ears as he glides over the frozen landscape around him. The freezing winter air barely affects the young skater, his frantic movements keeping his blood rushing through his veins and bringing a flush to his cheeks. Russia was still fairly new to him, the winter's brutal and the skies are an endless bleak grey. Yuri often avoided the rink and Yakov's screaming, it wasn't how he learned and he was determined to keep a strong, stubborn stand against the old man. Of course, Victor didn't agree but he was no longer Yuri's coach and was busy immersing himself back into the sport. Yuri didn't think himself a glorious skater, like he thought Victor to be, but even when practice finished, Victor still slaves away at the rink, Choreographing his new routines and practicing into the early hours of the morning to get back into shape. When he did finally come home, he looked like a wreck and flopped on the couch and would often end up sleeping there on the soft cushions with his poodle, Makkachin.

Yuri hated this for many reasons. Yuri had moved to stay with Victor during the season to train with him, Yurio and Yakov. He was in a country he barely knew and now Victor was not there to help him acclimate to his new surroundings. This did not help Yuri's nerves one bit. The skater felt that because of this issue, he was distracted from his goals ahead and couldn't help but feel some of his frustrations towards his fiance Victor.

Secondly, they were engaged but since the move and the beginning of the training season there was not a day or even an hour they had alone that wasn't training or catching up on lost sleep. It was not a healthy lifestyle for two who planned on being married, it was more toxic and the fights that bloomed between them were all the more damaging. There was no form of romance as Victor threw himself headfirst into music and the ice. And when Victor came home and fell asleep on the couch, it was definitely not the bed they shared.

Yuri's face hardened as he continued to go over the list of what was wrong with their relationship while he practiced on the frozen lake outside the rink. He dug his blade into the ice and shoved himself forward and faster while his mind continued to race and fume.

Thirdly, since the golden boy was back and was once again the star of Russia, Yakov was focusing all his energy on him. Even the newest champion of Russia who had just won the Grand Prix Final his first year in was mostly ignored. This was also another reason no one noticed when Yuri would slip outside and onto the lake instead. He knew he was no longer improving and was stuck in a rut without a proper coach to help him grow. Only one good thing had come out of this situation was an unlikely friendship between the two Yuris bloomed into a mutual understanding. They were both being swept under the rug by Victor's return but no one seemed to notice but them.

And lastly, Yuri was worried. Victor was pushing himself to the brink of breaking. His feet were covered in nasty blisters, his body was littered with multi-colored bruises, and the bag under his eyes from lack of sleep was carved into his pale complexion. He had put himself on a ridiculous diet to get him back into prime form but so much exercise and not enough nutrition to balance it, he became a skeleton. The only time Yuri saw him smile anymore was on the rink, he was so driven to win in every competition, he had lost himself. No one had expected this when it was announced that Victor was returning to the rink. Yuri was ecstatic and Yakov was pleasantly surprised at how harsh the man could be. With both Yuri's beating his records, he found it a threat and pushed himself to the breaking point. The savvy, outgoing, confident man he used to be had long since faded in the past months. At night he'd come home like a silent shadow, a ghost of his former self. The sight of his fiance was enough to give anyone nightmares nowadays.

Yuri slowed to a stop, the rink far behind him. He could no longer hear his music from his small boombox, just the howl of the picking up wind and his furiously beating heart. Russia, he found, was nothing like his home in Japan. He had no support from his parents or the overbearing support of his old coach and not even the love from his finance. Before Victor, while he trained in Detroit, he was away from his family for five years and it felt nothing compared to the short months he's spent in Russia. Standing in the middle of a frozen lake, in this unknown, frozen city, Yuri felt alone, isolated and trapped. Apart of him wanted to continue to skate, far away from the rink and never return. As Victor's ferocious need to win grew, Yuri's motivation melted away. Yuri wondered what Victor's surprise was supposed to be for his returning season. He always wanted to bring something the audience would never expect. Who knew it would be this, this phantom of a being dancing frantically across the ice with no rhyme or reason. He wanted to know what his inspiration was for his new piece and why it felt manic, almost deranged. Yuri knew he wouldn't get an answer. He was competition. He was barely allowed near the rink when Victor was practicing, no one was but Yakov.

"Yo Piggy!" Yurio shouted as Yuri entered the locker room. The nickname had stuck, although all malicious meaning was absent from it. "Where have you been?"

"I was on the lake," he answered, sitting on the bench, bending over to untie his skates. Yurio also didn't like it when Yuri went to the lake because he was left alone with Yakov and his star pupil. He wouldn't say it, but he was also worried about him falling into its frozen waters. It wasn't Yuri's favorite place to skate by far due to the roughness off the ice that made his skates unsteady and dangerous. However, it was much better than being in the rink with tension that could be cut with a knife.

They had only been there a short few months, all stuck together during practice for hours on end, and even though Yurio would not admit it, they had formed some sort of friendship, or at least Yuri thought so. In a way, they were on the same boat. Otabek was training in Kazakhstan and they hadn't seen each other since a little after the Grand Prix Final. Victor, of course, was technically absent mentally. In a way, they were both unable to be with the men they loved. Yurio's temper would flare and he would trash the locker room in a tantrum while Yuri would retreat into himself and fall virtually silent. Victor once said that a skater's heart was made of glass, and each of them had been shattered multiple times.

Although under strenuous circumstances and tempers flaring, they found a kind of unspoken solace in each other's company.

"You left me alone with Yakov and frantic twinkle toes in there," Yurio responded, voice full of irritation and a little disappointment.

"There wasn't room out there," Yuri responded, somewhat quietly and ignoring the name his fiance was called. Yurio only snorted and flicked his bangs out of his face as a response.

"Whatever," he said after a while and sat on the opposite bench of acquaintance.

"Why are you here," the blond demanded, causing Yuri to look up from untying his skates.

"What do you mean, why am I here, to train-"

"Don't bullshit me. Why leave your cozy little home and your cutlet bowls for frozen over hell? Because you're an idiot, blindly following another idiot," Yurio said harshly. He remained unphased by the blond's tone and accusations and continued to remove his skates from his blistered feet. He wasn't sure if he even knew an answer to that question. He'd come here for his career and for Victor, both of which were currently a flaming dumpster fire. He had to admit he thought of leaving several times but did not want to repeat the shame he felt coming home a loser before Victor was his coach. He couldn't bring himself to pack his things and leave the past year behind him.

He sighed before he answered, "I want to win Gold, I owe that much," he said with more conviction than he actually had. Yurio scoffed, removing his hair from the updo he had, sitting on a bench adjacent to also unlace his skates. "Moron," he muttered under his breath, at least having the decency to pretend Yuri wasn't supposed to hear.

"I called Lilia, I am going to live and train with her for the rest of the season," he said offhandedly. Since the new season began, Lilia Baranovskaya had yet to be in the picture after another falling out with Yakov. Yurio had decided a week ago to abandon Yakov and exclusively train with the Prima Ballerina until the next Grand Prix.

Skates now fully removed from his feet, he stopped to look up at Yurio in surprise. He should have seen it coming in retrospect but he definitely did not want to be alone here in Russia. Yurio almost looked remorseful when he met the other's gaze. He was young, his career was young, he couldn't be stalled like they were. Speechless, he nodded in understanding and before another painful exchange could take place, Victor floated in. The sight of his haunted fiance made him instinctively rise out of worry.

"Done for the day?" he asked gently. Victor looked so fragile and frail, he spoke to him as such almost like HANDLE WITH CARE was stamped on his forehead. Victor's smile did not reach his eyes and sighed, "Unfortunately, it's not perfect no matter how many times I do it, Yakov wants to go home as well."

"Let's get dinner," Yuri suggested before Victor cut him off by shaking his head, saying something along the lines of wanting to go home and have a bath.

"We are going to dinner," he snapped, getting closer to Victor with fire in his eyes. He was tired of this and Victor needed to eat. Victor looked frozen in place for a moment at his partner's sudden forcefulness, both forgetting Yurio was in the room and slowly attempting to sneak out before they blew into a fight.

Victor stood almost a head taller than Yuri being in skates and he was completely barefoot but nevertheless, the dark-haired man stood his ground. It was common in Yuri's family to work through their familial issues through food as a bonding experience. While his family did argue a lot, he gained weight fairly easily but no problem was too big that dinner couldn't fix. He fully planned on using this strategy on Victor but it would take some force.

Before Victor could argue, he spun on his heel, still only in his socks and walked out with his gym bag clenched in his fist. With knuckles like matched the snows outside, he stopped to put on his shoes in the lounge. He felt a twinge of guilt leaving Yurio with the ghost of Victor, but he had to stand his ground and not let himself be pushed around. There was a heat behind Yuri's eyes that continued to burn and clench of his heart as he stared out the window into the flurry of snowflakes outside, his shoes untied. The lounge was barren and modern but it felt like it was shrinking, his breaths coming faster and his knuckles becoming porcelain again, clenching his sweatpants. Porcelain and breakable, always breakable.

There is no reason to be acting like this, he repeated in his mind so much the words no longer sounded like words but his quivering body refused to believe him. What if snapping at Victor only made the situation worse or made him angrier. What if his lack of patience ruined what was left of their engagement. There was this raging battle in his head that kept his chest in a vice, constricting his breathing. He was trapped between the feeling of going too far and between it is what needs to be done. The idea of what is right and logical is lost in the flurry of ice past the glass. Along with proper reason.

Twitching and forcibly shoving the anxiety back down into the pit of his stomach, he finished tying his shoes and made his way to their car. Once inside and the heater blasting Yuri's frozen body, attempting fruitlessly to defrost his slim body. Minutes went by like hours as he waited for Victor to join him in their car. Some part of the skater believed that there was a chance he would decide to run home instead. While it sounds outrageous, Victor did this often, coming home with fingers so cold they looked a pale purple from running home in a snowstorm. How he didn't freeze along with the lake surprised Yuri.

The door opening and slamming next to him startled him out of his thoughts as his fiance got into the car, looking annoyed. Yuri took this as giving in to his dinner proposal and smiled since he was his ride. Victor didn't have a choice but come with him. For a split moment, Yuri felt a tang of what used to be, the light that used to be between them that seemingly died some time ago.

He heard as the engine turned over and warm air blew on fridged, frosted bodies. Yuri never got used to the cold Russian weather, but this artificial heat was becoming a stranger to him, just like the man pouting next to him. He drove anyhow in this usual silence that was certainly familiar.