1 ❆ YURI

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Author's notes, TW & CW

Present day

It's just for one day.

Yuri has to keep reminding himself of that as he lays in his scratchy hotel bed, alone. It's a weird feeling, honestly, to be alone in Russia while Victor's all the way back home. The roles have never been reversed like this before.

He turns over, tucking his arm under his pillow to cool it off and sticking a foot out from under the comforter. This usually works, but... not tonight. He's still sweating bullets, he's uncomfortable in what feels like every way possible.

There's just so much to be worried about. Everything would be better if he could just fall asleep but—what about Makkachin? What if Makkachin is dying, right this second? What if he fails tomorrow? What if he can't do it without Victor, would that mean these last few months were nothing but a waste of time? What if Victor leaves him?

You're making it worse, Yuri. Stop overthinking. Just go to sleep already.

He feels a familiar heat behind his eyes, those tears of frustration and disappointment coming back to him yet again. Blinking them away as best he can, Yuri stands up. He stares at the floor for a second, trying to get past his own gut-wrenching disappointment in himself so he can go to the kitchen and make himself a cup of chamomile and just go the hell back to bed. He trudges over to the "kitchen" section, filling the kettle and turning it on, then ruffling through the cupboards only to realize there's no decaffeinated tea.

He nearly starts crying again.

Yuri takes a deep breath, tries to compose himself, and gets out a mug to pour his hot water into. He's honestly glad for the lack of actual food in the kitchen. He can't afford to start binge eating.

With his mug of plain hot water, he trudges back over to his bed and sits down. Blankly, he stares ahead of him and blows on the hot water. As he takes a tentative sip, a small lump by the doorway catches his eye. He blinks, trying to look past the darkness, then he puts down the mug and makes his way over to it.

Look, even Makkachin's here to cheer you on.

Yuri could cry from relief alone. He picks up the dumb little thing and takes the tissue box out of it. Like a little girl he hugs the stuffed dog close to his chest. It smells like Victor. Without once letting go, he climbs into bed and tucks Plushy Makkachin under his neck. The smell of Victor's cologne. Finally, Yuri's able to keep those relentless, spiralling thoughts from plaguing his mind.

Okay. You know the program. You know the jumps. You know the consequences if you fail.

Just keep up the momentum from the short program.

The music begins.

Yuri can feel his confidence wavering already, he hates it, but there's nothing he can do about it. He just has to stick to the program. He lands the first jump, a quad toe loop combination, but he pops the second jump.

Oh god. He can't fail, he can't. He has to prove that Victor's work hasn't gone to waste. It can't. But Yuri doesn't know how he'll recover from this one. He spares a glance at the place where Victor usually stands, watching him with those intense, determined blue eyes. Nobody's there.

His stomach lurches, and he nearly messes up the step sequence. He can't do this.

He can't do this.

He builds up to his next jump, flies through the air—under-rotation. The right edge of his blade catches the ice. His stomach drops. He knows what's coming, and steps out of the landing. He can't recover from this one, there's no way. Just... just get it done, Katsuki.

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