Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Viktor had, throughout his life, gotten his fair amount of emotional moments, positive, as well as negative. His first gold medal, the day he adopted Makkachin, when he almost lost him, Yuuri’s proposal, his mom’s divorce. But when he entered the room, he could only believe all of that was worthless, that it was nothing, insignificant in front of what the twins felt.

Even when their backs were turned towards him, the skater could easily depict just how much they were lost, drowning in their own emotions, suffocating. Slowly dying.

And it was now his job to help them both swim back to the surface, make sure they were safe well, or, at the very least, as well as one could be in such conditions.

And it scared him to no end.

No one, except Yakov, but that didn’t count, had clearly told him so, but Viktor knew. He was the farthest thing one could be from a responsible adult. He was impulsive, dramatic and immature. He drastically lacked tact, barely knew how to cook and was, despite all his best efforts, emotionally unstable at times. In short, he had trouble keeping himself sane and healthy. How exactly was he supposed to, suddenly, take care of two very, very sad kids, who each had two times the amount of psychological and emotional problems he had? It, if he was being honest with himself, seemed impossible for him to do.

But he also knew, he didn’t have a choice.

Because who else was going to do it?

Nikolai was now gone. His wife had passed away years before the twins had even gotten the chance to see the light of the sun. No aunts or uncles, or even cousins, had ever been mentioned. The paternal side of the family was a complete mystery, and was better kept that way. And as far as he knew, their grandpa had been the kids’ only godparent.

To put it simply, there was no other adult available to take care of Yuri and Alexei. Apart from their mother, that spawn of the devil, curse her and bless her enemies, but there was no way, no matter the situation, that Viktor was ever allowing her near the twins ever again. She could as well die in the most atroce manners, and the silver haired man would smile, laugh in glee reading the article.

To say it briefly, Viktor had to do it, no matter what.

He had to. He kept telling himself so. It was his duty, and what he wanted.

But he wasn’t nearly responsible, or even stable enough, to do so. No intelligent enough person would let him take care of kids more than a few hours on a normal occasion, right was, indeed, out of the question.

But he had to. He knew he did.

How was he going to make it work? How was he going to give Yuri and Alexei, who already needed, deserved so much on a regular day, the support and balance required for their comfort and general well-being in these hard times?

A hand took place on his shoulder, squeezing it in a comforting manner, and his world became wide again, opening up for him to be aware of more than just himself, Yuri, Alexei. Yuuri, his beautiful, flawless, perfect fiancee who he loved more than he loved the moon and sun and stars and seasons. He was next to him. The air he was breathing was fresher and the colors were coming back in his eyes.

That was right, he suddenly, finally remembered. He wasn’t going to be alone. Yuuri would be there all along. Yakov would certainly be more than willing to help out, he had always treated every skater under his care, plus Alexei, like his own children, complimenting and scowling in a weirdly fatherly way. Mila and Georgi would be present, too, if the couple ever needed a hand. He would have help, if ever need be, to support Yuri and Alexei, while they grieved, and afterwards as well, for the rest of their lives.

They were gonna be okay. It was all fine. It was going to be fine. Even if it didn’t look the part at the moment.

Viktor wouldn’t have been able to tell if one minute or a whole eternity had passed without anybody saying anything, moving, even. Time in the room felt surreal, almost non-existent. And the impression the space left on the human being was just as strange and stressful. It was as if they weren’t allowed to breathe, to live. A terrifying perspective.

Putting an end to all of it, both twins stood up gently, quietly, as if to not wake up the man laying on the bed before them, before turning slowly, walking out the door without a sound, without turning back, without stopping.

Completely detached, if not for the tears falling down their cheeks, never stopping.

No one had stopped them as they had made their way out of the hospital, and the car ride had gone completely eventlessly. And when Viktor said eventlessly, he meant eventlessly. Not a single word had been even whispered, not a single sound had broken the silence. A first, in the years the man had known the twins.

The driver had decided to go back to his apartment, instead of Nikolai’s house. First of all, he didn’t believe that rushing the kids back into a place so full of memory was the best of ideas, directly after they had lost their grandpa, the most precious and important person to them, right next to each other. Such a big trigger would maybe result in just as major reactions, which Viktor was not ready to deal with. He didn’t feel equipped, he was unprepared, he had no idea what to expect, and so he wouldn’t test his chance.

And, secondly, he didn’t want to leave the twins alone. If they had gone back to Nikolai’s house, he was pretty sure the kids wouldn’t have wanted to get back to the car afterwards, being already on the border of exhaustion when they had left the hospital, amongst other reasons. The problem was, there was no place for Yuuri, and him, to stay the night. If he had been alone, he would have simply slept on the couch, like he had done before, many, many times. But, Yuuri surely wouldn't have fitted beside him on the small couch, there were no other sofas in the house, and sleeping in the just deceased man’s bed felt, well, very wrong.

So, he had assumed the best option was for all of them to spend the night at his own apartment. They had one of these sofas that could turn into a bed in the living room, where he and his fiancee could sleep, while they gave their own king sized bed to the twins.

The car was now finally pulled up, as they had arrived at the residence. It was a medium sized apartment, taking up half of the fifth floor of the building it was in. The place was nothing luxurious, the furniture was modest and simple, and it was, mostly, a mess. One would have thought the presence of Yuuri in the place would have helped keeping it clean and neat, but they would have been mistaken greatly. In truth, even Viktor had been thinking the same way, at first. The young man simply seemed like the type to almost enjoy cleaning, that, and a bit of stereotypes thrown into the judgement. But if he made sure to vacuum and clean up the bathroom every week, Yuuri would never put away anything. He would throw the unfolded pants all in a big mountain, on one of the shelves in the wardrobe in his and Viktor’s room. Pillows that clearly belonged in said bedroom had been forgotten on the couch for months now, neither man ever picking them up. They had bought new curtains a few weeks back, and the old ones were still present, taking up space, thrown onto one of the unused kitchen chairs.

In short, the place was not ready for visit of any kind, even with the new addition of its inhabitants. It was not anything near fancy, nor was it spacious, and it needed a good organising day to get scheduled and done.

But it was the best they had at the moment.

Opening up the door of his car, Viktor turned around to face the twins, who were sitting at the back of the pink Cadillac, the roof of which was closed, to announce, in the softest voice he could manage.

-We’re here.

The reaction wasn’t immediate, as was anticipated, but, after a moment, both boys looked up from the space they had been staring at, and got out, walking directly to the front door of the building before them.

Yuri and Alexei had been over at Viktor’s apartment a few times before, but it hadn’t been a recurring thing. Only on a handful of occasions had they entered the place, like when Viktor had wanted to grab something on his way back to the rink, or when the older skater had just desired to go back home after a long day, and the two other ones had simply followed, for various reasons. Most times, hanging out outside the Sports Champions Club would be either an activity done in the different streets, cafes and parks of Saint-Petersburg, or, just as frequently, at Nikolai’s house. The place was just more spacious, kept tidier, and, above everything else, it was warm and familiar.

Viktor had lived in the studio for a long time, way before Yuuri’s arrival in Russia, many years, in fact. But it had always felt empty. No real personality had ever shone through the apartment, and no emotions were brought up when he came back home. It was just a small space, with white walls and boring furniture. And Nikolai’s house was all the opposite of that. Nikolai’s house was welcoming, hearty, and truly felt like home, to both the man’s grandsons and Viktor. A place to relax, to let their guard down, to eat and play and mess around freely. It was great, and something he was grateful for.

Or, it had been.

Of course, Yuuri’s arrival in his life had changed a lot of things for Viktor, which, among them, was the feeling he got whenever he walked into the apartment. The indifference and coldness on his back had shifted for a sweet taste on his tongue, the warmth of a blanket around his shoulders, love, to say the least. However, none of that was being provided by the actual place. Only the man who now lived here, alongside the older skater, could take credit for all these marvelous, comforting sensations he felt everytime he landed his eyes on him.

The twins, in front of the two, very worried, adults, were now climbing up the flights of stairs, all the way to the fifth floor. Their steps were slow, mechanical, thoughtless looking, just like every movement they had been making, since they had left their grandpa’s side. Once they finally arrived at the door, they both waited on the side, eyes looking down, obviously drifting into their own thoughts, waiting for Viktor to open, which he did without a word. Soon enough, everyone was inside, the door closed again.

Two weeks after Yuuri had moved, unofficially, in with him, Viktor had catched him mumbling something under his breath, everytime he walked through the front door. Very confused, the silver haired man had asked his fiancee what was it, that he was doing? What was he saying? At first very reluctant, Yuuri had finally answered that he was saying a greeting, that was the norm in Japan, to say when one would come back home. His reasoning for not saying it outloud had been that, first, he hadn’t wanted to push his culture and beliefs onto Viktor, when he was the outsider here. That had been brushed off very quickly, the older man assuring him that he loved learning about the Japanese way of living, especially if Yuuri was the one teaching him, and that he would be more than happy to start doing the same, if he had the permission. The second thing stopping the Japanese man from demonstrating the habit out loud, was that he hadn’t been sure if he was allowed to think of the apartment as home. It had been true that, at that time, nothing had been said clearly. Yuuri had only been supposed to stay in Russia for a few days, which had slowly elongated into weeks. That had been when things had been made clear for both men. After a small conversation, they had decided together that, officially, the Japanese man would move in with Viktor, in Russia. They had gone to Japan, not only to visit Yuuri’s family, who he hadn’t gotten the chance to see after the Final, but also, to pick up the man’s various belongings.

After that, Yuuri had always, without fail, called out the cute greeting, everytime he walked into the apartment, past the front door.

But now, he wasn’t.

Surely not to break the current silence, or to not startle the twins. Viktor was disappointed he wasn’t able to hear the “tadaima” from his lover’s lips, but he understood.

Quietly, the shoes came off, getting replaced with slippers, the twins getting two off the spare pairs, and they made their way into the living room.

Immediately crashing down onto the couch.

It was a sad sight. The normally so energetic, so playful kids, now so tiny, so tired, so fragile.

Turning from the grey, heart-breaking picture, Viktor looked over to his other half, before speaking up, just loud enough for him to understand what he was saying.

-Let’s make dinner.

Finally stumbling into the hard, uncomfortable mattress, Viktor had the chance to take a moment and think about everything that had happened, and was going to occur.

The rest of the evening had gone on pretty much the same way it had started as. Very little words from the two adults, none from the twins. After eating the chicken soup both men had heated up, and picking at the bread on the side, the kids had simply left the table, simultaneously, to head to the master bedroom, where they had been told they would spend the night beforehand. The door had been closed, and Viktor hadn’t seen the two boys since.

The only clue they were still alive inside the private, closed space, had been when Yuri had called for Viktor, in a tone so far from his usual voice, it had taken a moment for the man to realise it was the blond talking, asking for him to go pick up Potya. Which had been done immediately, the skater cursing himself for not thinking about the cat sooner on. The door had been, only briefly, unlocked, giving Potya the chance to run into the room, and Viktor, the opportunity to hand out water and food bowls for the animal, as well as her litter. Not even a reflection of the two boys had been perceived during those short moments. The second after, the entrance was closed, once more, and had stayed that way.

They clearly needed time to process, together, what all they had witnessed meant. Neither of them had ever had to go through grieving for a lost one, until then. Their only known grandma had passed away long before their birth. No important friends lost along the way, no violent breakup from truly loved partners, not even a deceased pet. Their first time experiencing grief was, to say the least, a rather harsh one.

Viktor needed to take care of them, now.

Luckily, it was the beginning of the off season for both kids. They had time to pick themselves up, part after part, before they had to get back to serious training, which meant the unfortunate event would affect their performance in a very minor way, if it ever did.

For now, he had to focus more on keeping the kids alive and comfortable.

For instance, buying a house.

There was no way they could just all stay in the couple’s little, cheap, one bedroom apartment. Viktor could deal with sleeping in the living room for now, and Yuuri had, of course, assured him that it was fine, but it sure as hell wasn’t going to be a permanent solution. They were in need of a bigger place.

Simply buying the twins’, for now, abandoned, childhood home, was an option. The place wasn’t large, per say, but it was still a nice, three bedroom, two stories house. It was already all furnished, and all of the twins' stuff wouldn’t need any moving. And they had a lot. He would have to talk to said kids later, about it.

If not, there was always the choice of picking an entire other living place. Saint-Petersburg, at least, in their area, was full of small and big houses, as well as larger apartments and condos. In which case, they would have to think about moving out all of their things, and possibly getting new furniture, as well as setting things up for the electricity, running water and internet connection.

At least, Viktor wasn’t short on money. Being five times gold medalist of the World Championships, as well as very attractive, paid more than one would probably think.

He would also have to think about their education, too. Both Yuri and Alexei had now finished senior school, and were moving up to secondary school, for another two years. In the past, they had voiced their desire to continue their studies, while still continuing skating, as their priority. Viktor wasn’t sure to understand why they would want to pursue higher diplomas and education, if they still planned to make their passion, their job, but he respected it. It hadn’t been what he had decided on, years ago. He had stopped the moment school hadn’t been obligatory by the law anymore. Yuuri, the younger man had once told him, had planned on getting a higher education, but had dropped out after some time, to fully concentrate on figure skating.

Thinking about that, he would have to call the school program, to get the twins a couple days off. He would do that once he woke up.

He would also have to look into, maybe, if the situation called for one, getting them a therapist.

The kids’ had always been what one would have called, as much as Viktor hated the phrasing, unstable. They weren’t, or, at least, had never shown any sign of being suicidal, but they sure as hell weren’t perfectly healthy. For a quick, boiled down resume, Yuri, even after several years of slow improvement, still displayed some pretty serious anger management issues, as well as some self esteem shortenage, by moments. Alexei, on his part, didn’t exactly run away anymore, but still took very long, extended walks outside, coming back red faced, puffy eyed, exhausted minded. And, sadly, the marks of the past abuse, graceful legacy of that monster, who dared call herself a mother, still, occasionally, shone through, whether at the kids’ lowest moments, or just, slipping, the children not even realising how heartbreaking and unhealthy such mindsets were. To put it simply, Nikolai’s death was, in a way, just another issue on Yuri and Alexei's mental health. Howether, Viktor was unsure if it was, in fact, just another one, or something much, much worse, that would set off the need to go to a professional.

The longer he thought, the longer the man realised, that wow, taking care of children was hard. And, he was sure, he would still remember more things he had to deal with, later that night, the day after, a month passed, even.

A shift of the mattress, accompanied with distasteful, cringe worthy noises, snapped Viktor out of his thoughts. Yuuri was back from the bathroom, finally ready for bed.

A sigh escaped the younger man’s lips as he laid down, the spare blanket up to his nose, a content look on his face. Which, regretfully, quickly changed for a worried one, once he turned to look at his fiancee, to his left.

-Vichan, please take some rest, Yuuri whispered softly, holding one hand out to gently brush a strand of hair out of his lover’s face. Viktor, in front of the request, got very confused. It wasn’t even past ten thirty in the night, he had gotten in bed before him, and, as far as he knew, nothing was scheduled for the day after. His questioning must have shone on his face, because Yuuri continued, explaining why he had asked the man to do such things.

-You’re as pale as when Makkachin choked on plastic wrappers, and you could just as well not have slept for the last 72 hours. Nothing will get done if you stay like that, not your own grieving, or helping the twins with theirs. So, please, just try to sleep.

Yuuri, Viktor knew, must suffer from just as many mental health issues as he did. Binge eating disorder, severe anxiety, depressive episodes, you name it. The difference between them was that, out of the two, the younger one knew best how to take care of himself. He was more efficient with spotting unhealthy behavior, and, whenever he had a low, he was the best at picking himself up. Was it because the Japanese man actually had a supportive family who had helped him deal with the same problems in his younger years, while he had been on his own for the most part, Viktor didn’t know. His mom had tried her best for so many years, but in the situation they had been living in, her best efforts were, sadly, insufficient.

The point was, when it came to psychological problems, Yuuri was the one to listen to in the relationship. And that, Viktor hadn’t even noticed his current, horrendous state.

-Alright, he simply replied, softly, lovingly, as he shuffled closer to his warm lover, laying next to him, before whispering, slowly closing his eyes.

-Goodnight, beloved.

The kids had stayed locked inside the bedroom for the entire morning. Yuuri and Viktor had, together, decided on letting them rest as much as they needed, and desired, staying outside the room, and producing just as much noise as respectful people in libraries. Even Makkachin seemed to get the, to say the least, silent agreement, keeping still and quiet.

It had taken for the two men to start making a very late breakfast, for the door to unlock, first unleashing Potya, who ran out of the room faster than Viktor had ever seen her go, then Yuri and Alexei.

The sight the silver haired man was greeted by what had, bitterly, been the one he had expected.

Yuri’s hair, which, normally, reached his shoulders, seemed to have migrated in the back of his head, all in one big, rather worrisome, knot. His brother’s own locks weren’t looking good either, every singular hair acting as if they were their own individual, not one going in the same direction than another. Even the shaved, way shorter, hair, all around the boy’s skull, somehow had gotten messy overnight. And, giving it a little bit more attention, a small part of the tresses had wrapped around his eyebrow piercing, seemingly stuck there.

The clothes covering them had been the same ones as the ones they had gotten out of the hospital with. Therefore, the same ones they had, also, walked in the building wearing. Ripped, black jeans for Yuri, and cargo pants the same color for Alexei. Came with that, on the side of the blond, a black shirt with an orange paw print, from an unidentified big feline, most likely, accessorised with his favorite leopard print jacket. As for the taller one, his black hoodie valorised a medium sized, low quality, cheap looking, picture of a cow. Each piece of clothing was seen wrinkly, and messy, pretty normal for the rough night they must have gone through.

But not as rough and difficult as the one the kids wearing them had just lived.

If Viktor had had to choose three words to describe what he was seeing, they would have been, exhausted, void, and dead.

Both Yuri and Alexei, were paler than the man had ever seen them, the eldest of the two pretty much matching his brother’s usual skin tone. They were carrying themselves like the sky was on their shoulders, unabling them from standing upright, which they already, almost, never did properly. But, most importantly, they seemed drained of all life.

Empty green eyes, that once were sparkling with passion, excitement, life. Now deceased.

Emotions were starting to bubble up Viktor’s throat, blocking his lungs and unabling his vocal cords, when Yuuri spoke up in a soft, calm voice, accented russian, snapping his fiance out of the unagreeable sensations.

-Goodmorning. Breakfast is almost ready, if you want to take a seat.

While the kids slowly made their way up to the small kitchen table, Viktor turned to give a warm, loving smile to the man beside him, which was immediately returned.

He loved Yuuri so much.

A few minutes later, the two men were sitting down in front of the twins, after settling down the last plates. On the table, was a few options, like the sandwiches topped with fish the Japanese man loved so much, a box of nutritional, Yakoved approved cereals, and, of course, the obligatory rye bread, plain, ready to be enjoyed with either way each man could desire.

Rye bread in the Pkisetsky household had been, for as long as Viktor could remember, a very serious business. He had one specific memory, that once Nikolai and the twins had moved to Saint-Petersburg, the old man had spent three whole weeks going to every single bakery in the area, in between lifts, to find the best place to buy the holy pastry, just to end up making his own most of the time. And, unsurprisingly, it had always been delicious. The grandpa’s passion had rubbed off on his grandsons, who became terrors the moment the rye bread wasn’t to their liking, and, as time had passed, on Viktor, too. The side effects weren’t as pushed on him as they were on Yuri and Alexei, for sure, and he was far from having the talent to do his own without messing it up, but his household never lacked any rye bread, in contrast to the normal wheat bread.

Quietly, everyone around the table started serving themselves, dropping the food onto their plates, pouring themselves some milk, munching without a word.

Once they were finished, faster than the pace they had been swallowing had indicated, the twins stood up, setting their dirty plates into the dishwasher, alongside their silverware, before going back to the master bedroom. Yuri picked up Potya from where she was sleeping, on the couch, and Alexei closed the door behind them.

Viktor and Yuuri could only watch, until they couldn’t see them anymore. What could they do, except leave them alone to let everything flow, to figure out the meanings and new ways?

Throughout the day, the kids were observed outside the bedroom, during sparse occasions. Once, Yuri refilled Potya’s food and water bowls. Both boys went to the bathroom a few times, and, at some point, took turns to take a shower. They walked out when they were called, for a small lunch, and for dinner. But, for the remaining hours, they stayed locked up inside.

It went on for five whole days, of worry and anxiety and unexpected tears.

Chapter Text

On the sixth day, Viktor and Yuuri were starting to have a lot of empty space in their refrigerator, signaling that the time had come for a trip to the grocery store. A small list was scribbled down, the reusable bags were brought out of the pantry, and Yuuri’s coat was finally found, after days of disappearance, most likely from the rushed organising the japanese man, and his russian fiancee, had done all around their apartment.

However, there was still something to do before petting Makkachin goodbye and leaving the place.

Calmly, Viktor walked up to the closed door, of what had once been his room, and knocked three times, before speaking up, announcing.

-Yurochka, Lyoshenka, we’re leaving for the grocery store for a while. Is that okay with you?

For a moment, no response came, only the silence could be heard behind the door. The man had to wait a couple seconds for a voice, Yuri’s, to call out.

-Can we come with you?

The, to say the least, unexpected question, took Viktor back. They had barely walked out of the very room they were currently locked in for the past days, and they wished to go outside the apartment? What was the logic behind that?

There wasn’t any, that was the thing, he quickly came to realise.

Viktor was repeating himself, but the kids were grieving, not anybody, but their grandpa, the man who had raised them almost completely. Who had cared and loved them during all their lives. Viktor guessed that, at a time like this, the twins were simply following their survival instincts, or something of the same taste.

-Alright, we’ll be waiting for you.

Viktor was looking through the different kinds of mayonnaise, displayed on the shelves in front of him, searching for the specific, not mainstream brand he had started using a few years back, when he heard something crash, soon followed by screaming.

Yuri.

Of course it couldn’t have gone all smooth and nice, walking in and out with an incident. They just had to snap and cause drama in the middle of the store, he thought tiredly, feeling a weight being dropped on his shoulders as he turned around.

But, it had to be said, Viktor was very impressed something like that hadn’t begun sooner. The car ride had taken a moment, traffic making it even longer than supposed to, and the little group of four had been picking up groceries for a while now.

-You better apologies, old bitch.

-How dare you talk to me like that?

-Yura, please apologize to the lady.

-She bumped into me, why doesn’t she apologize?

-You both are at fault, but she is an elder, and you insulted her.

-What did you call me?

-That’s not true, Yuka was just standing there, she did it on purpose.

-All of you, calm down, Viktor stepped in, unwilling to let it unravel.

Both twins were very obviously furious. Yuri was doing that thing, where he would look at someone with his head tilted down, eyebrows angled, teeth clenched. As for Alexei, his eyes were opened wider than usual, the corner of his lips, pulled downward, in what the older skater had learned to be the boy’s very own, rageful, face. Both of them had the same sharp, soul piercing, intimidating glare in their green eyes.

The lady in question, the current enemy, obstacle to their calm, relaxing visit to the store , was pretty much the same height as the blond, her entire body hidden behind a humongous black coat, the collar adorned by a thick layer of what Viktor hoped was faux fur, the whole thing looking very, very expensive for someone who shopped at the same grocery as the skater did. Her grey hair was tied up into a neat bun, her cheekbones were high, and her lips were pinched. In short, the air around the woman smelled authoritarian, classy, and like old perfume.

-Can you please tell me what is going on, he asked the three other men. But, before any of them could grasp the chance to speak, the old lady interrupted, her voice piercing and most irritating, pointing a burgundy manicured nail at Yuri.

-That young man tried to make me fall, like the uncivilised bastard he is. I expect an apology and for you to discipline him properly.

Viktor couldn’t remember a time where he had moved faster than at that exact moment, to grab onto the furious, hot-blooded blond, his arms around his armpits, in his best attempt to keep him from committing an ugly murder in the very public setting they were in.

Luckily for everyone present, the older skater was blessed with more physical strength than the smaller one. Yuri squirmed and screamed and kicked and whipped around. Viktor, already feeling his dangerously low amount of energy being drained from his body, quickly motioned at Yuuri to get the groceries, that were now spilled on the floor, while he would get the teenager out of the store, in a safer place, for both him and his surroundings.

Thirty minutes later, everyone was back in the car, on their way to the apartment.

After getting Yuri out of the building, Viktor had practically dragged the boy into an empty, dark, thin dead-end alley, before releasing him from his hold. That was a trick the silver-haired man had learned from Nikolai. When Yuri was upset, take him outside, in a place where he cannot escape, but still open. Keeping him inside would just give him the opportunity to wreck the place down, forcing him into a car or other confined spaces would have him panic, and letting him wander freely when he was stuck in such a state was a good way to have him punch someone in the face and get the police called on him. So, in that situation, an alleyway was the best option.

Yuri’s tantrum had gone on for about twenty minutes. Twenty full minutes, of kicking trash cans, screaming his lungs out, letting the world know, he hadn’t been content with what was happening to him, what had happened to him. Twenty minutes, before he had sat down, hiding his face into the sleeves of his shirt, his hood hiding the remaining of his could be visible features, hugging his knees tightly.

Viktor, carefully, had made his way up to the boy. Crouching down to his level, he had asked quietly, as to not startle him.

-Do you want to go back to the car?

It took a moment for the blond to answer, nodding his head, still hiding in his arms. Standing up, the elder skater had taken out a hand for Yuri to grab, helping him get up. Once he had been stable on his own two feets, however, he hadn’t let go, holding Viktor’s hand tightly, looking down. He had let him. It was the least he could do.

Inside the car, Yuuri and Alexei had already been waiting for them, sitting in complete silence. Without breaking the quietness inside the vehicle, the two latecomers had taken their designated places, before taking the road, on the way back to the apartment.

Thin, delicate fingers gripped Viktor’s naked shoulder with more strength than they should have been able to, shaking his whole upper body energetically, without management, effectively waking the, once sleeping, man, out of his slumber.

-Yoka! Wake up. Yoka ran away! A hushed voice informed him.

If his eyes had been sleepy, and his mind, foggy, before, now all of the skater’s senses were fully awakened, alert, blaring, screaming, in total panic. Alexei.

Alexei was gone.

Shit.

Viktor got up in a flash, almost tripping on the discarded bedsheets, laying messily on the floor, next to the bed. He was about to run to the entrance, before getting stopped in his tracks by Yuuri, calling for him, resting a comforting, warm hand on his shoulder, the opposite one that the younger boy had been handling him with a few seconds ago.

-Vityenka, count to ten.

Despite his assured tone and secured grip, Yuuri definitely wasn’t completely calm either. His lips were locked into a tight, wiggly line, as his eyes were filled with worry and insecurities. That had Viktor curse at himself, interiorly, of course. Why, in a situation like this, was his fiancee the one helping him? Was he really so incompetent, someone who had never experienced a similar problem, was the one taking charge and making decisions? Was he actually so pathetic, he couldn’t stop being an egocentric brat, and help when it was actually, truly needed? How was he supposed to take care of the twins, in that case? How was he supposed, the incompetent dick he was proving himself to be, to raise two teenagers, special children with special needs and desires? He couldn't even notice when even one needed his attention and support, he now realised.

Yes, he saw it now. Yuri was the most in shock, the most panicking, most frantic person in the room. He was the one that, at the moment, was the priority. But Viktor couldn’t even notice that. How on Earth-

-Vitya, Yuuri interrupted his train of thoughts, tone of voice firmer this time. Count to ten, the young man repeated, Viktor following the instructions.

One. Yuuri shouldn’t have to do this for him.

Two. But he is kind of grateful, to be completely honest.

Three.

Four. He took a deep breath, his head clearing little by little.

Five. Six, seven.

Eighth, nine.

Ten.

The effects weren’t immediate, but the influence the exercise did have on him was relieving. His distressed, quick breathing had slowed down, his vision had come back from the blurry mess it had been, his thoughts were, mostly, senseful.

One slow breath, two slow breaths.

-Alright, he finally uttered, turning to face Yuri, the poor boy twisting his hair frantically, almost violently. Viktor, doing his best to keep the dark thoughts at bay, placed two hands on the blond’s shoulders, in a reassuring manner. He continued, carefully choosing his words, doing his best to remember what Nikolai would have done before, in the same situation.

-Do you have any idea of where Lyoshenka could have gone? Yuri, snapping ever so slightly out of his, seemingly crushing, but justified, agitation, took a deeply concentrated, though still twisted by the fear, face, before answering.

-He said he wanted to go home.

Well, it did make a lot of sense, now that he thought about it.

After getting dressed and making sure Yuri was calm enough to proceed, the trio had entered the car, taking the direction of Nikolai’s house, which wasn’t far away. The ride had been eventless, both in good and bad ways. At this hour deep into the night, no cars had been active on the road, as expected, and no accidents had occurred. But, not a millimeter of Alexei had been sighted. Not a sleeve, not a hair, not a breath. And they had searched, gaze piercing into the darkness of the alleys surrounding them, desperate for the smallest, most insignificant clue.

And they still were.

Once arrived in front of the house, Viktor had immediately sensed that something was off, without being able to pinpoint what exactly it was. Then, he had realised. The house had been in complete darkness, in complete silence. No one had been there.

Yuri had still gone through the entire household afterward, making sure his brother truly hadn’t been present, before going back to the two adults, who had been waiting in the car.

-Yoka ain’t in here, he had told them, voice low, desperate.

After the, sadly expected, revelation, Viktor, taking up the role Nikolai had assumed for so many years prior, had begun organising the searches. The instructions had been short and simple for everyone. Yuri would be driven back to the apartment, Viktor would roam around the streets, and Yuuri would be given the keys to the Moskvitch 444, which had been left in its place, abandoned in the house’s parking lot, to do the same.

And that was exactly what the three of them were doing at the moment. The eldest of the group had been looking around the area for what seemed like days now, but truly, were only a couple hours, proven by the digital clock illuminating his car with a faint green glow.

The searches continued for a couple minutes before the man’s phone rang, the sound startling him more than it should have. Without loosing a second, Viktor grabbed the device, Yuuri’s name on the screen illuminating his face, before accepting the call with a rough tap.

-Did you find him?

-I did, we’re heading back to the apartment now, the man on the other side of the call replied. His voice was kept low, but even so, Viktor could hear the shaking of it, the worry and shock that tainted his fiancee’s every word. However, he could also decipher the calmness Yuuri was trying to project, less for himself than for the, presumably, boy sitting next to him, surely. The care the younger one had for others always outstanded Viktor. And, at the risk of sounding cheesier than usual, everytime, he fell a little bit more for the soon to be his, marvelous young man.

-Thank you, he said, almost, whispering, before taking a sharp turn, making his way back home without a second being lost.

The ride back was as eventless as the last two hours, minus the constant, frantic glaring, and the tight fear, gripping his chest, his heart. Once arrived, he came to the revelation, at the moment of stepping out of the vehicle, that his legs were shaking. Out of exhaustion, he assumed. It was nearly five in the morning, he had been awake since three, and had, overall, not slept well for the last week, each night providing him with less rest than the one preceding it.

The shaking, luckily, stopped by the time he reached the stairs, leading to his door, which he climbed with a certain, steady rhythm. Soon enough, he opened the door, and walked inside.

Viktor barely took the time to take off his shoes before sprinting towards the living room, where he knew everyone was. He was about to, practically, fling himself onto Alexei.

He stopped right away.

He was crying. Fat, clear tears were rolling down Alexei’s cheeks, without a stop.

Viktor couldn’t remember the last time he had seen the boy shed tears. It was a known fact that he was the farthest thing from an emotional person, and what he did felt inside, he never showed, out for everyone to see, especially when it came to negative emotions. So, to see the boy, that boy, sob semi loudly, smushed between Yuuri and Yuri, gave Viktor a shock he hadn’t been prepared for.

Slower, quieter than he had originally intended, the silver-haired man approached the couch, which was still in its bed form, where the trio was sitting. Crouching down in front of him, Viktor took a better look at Alexei’s features, as they were no longer half hidden by the awkward angle the tilted head of his provided, the dark hair being the only real obstacle left.

Without surprise, the hockey player’s cheeks and jaws were completely stained by tear trails, and dry snot had collected on the space between his nose and upper lips, still being added to with a small flow. And his eyes were so filled with emotions the skater wished he could simply pick out, force out of the viridian orbs, put in a bag, and throw away, far, far away in the distance, where no one would have to find them. Viktor guessed that had been what the younger boy had been looking like every time he had been running away. The real difference there was that, they had found him before he was finished, before he was able to let out everything and to calm himself down to a bad imitation of his usual self.

To Alexei’s left was Yuri, almost on top of his brother, holding him tight with both arms. He was looking close to being as devastated as his brother. The most noticeable difference, was the divergent glow in his own eyes, looking as if the feelings inside his heart weren’t the same as the other Plisetsky’s. They didn’t seem any better, though.

To the opposite side was Yuuri, his Yuuri, who was whispering small, quiet words of comfort, also hugging the boy tightly. True, authentic worry and care were engraved in his face, eyes focused, eyebrows arched, mouth very slightly twisted.

Without saying a word, Viktor started rubbing circles on the boy’s knee, as a small sign of comfort. When it came to the twins, even more so in such a context, he always made sure, were it be by looking at the situation, or by asking directly, if affection and physical touch were okay. Since Alexei was, literally, getting squeezed by two men from both sides in a communal, love-filled, warm hug, the older of the bunch assumed it was okay to do so.

If any of the men in front of him had noticed his presence, which Viktor hoped they had, as he hadn’t exactly been discreet in the first moments, and was almost touching them now, positioned right into their field of vision, no one truly acknowledged him. Not a nod, not a smile. And he understood. Alexei was who mattered right now, the one who needed all their attention.

It took another thirty minutes for the boy to calm down, not fully, but an improvement from before. It was even enough of a difference, for him to be able to mutter a whole sentence comprehensively.

-I’m so sorry, Yuka.

The reply was given in no time.

-Don’t you dare apologize, fucker, Yuri said back, his face smashed into his brother’s hoodie, the same way it had been for the last five minutes, making it impossible to decipher his facial expression. However, Viktor could speculate it wasn’t a happy one, given the tone he had used. Against the greater good, Alexei either didn’t get the very clear message just sent to him, or had elected to ignore it, continuing.

-I left you. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.

-And I’m telling you that it’s alright.

-But it’s not. I’m the older one, I should be protecting you.

-I’m not some sort of incapable baby, I can take care of myself. You, however-

-You don’t worry for me, I’m fine.

-You clearly aren’t-

-You’re in a weak state right now, I should have stayed, but I didn’t.

-I’m not in a weak state, you are!

-You are.

-No, y-

-You-

-STOP FUCKING INTERRUPTING ME, ASSHOLE.

Yuri snapping at Alexei like that was Viktor’s clue to separate the both of them, and to act quickly. The twins’ arguments were feared around the whole Sports Champions Club, as tiny and insignificant they could be. The conclusion of a serious one, in this tired, strained, anxiety filled atmosphere, was not something anyone wished to ever witness.

-Alright, calm down, he called out, rather unproductively, as neither twin seemed to even hear him.

-Why did you leave anyway, if it’s so unforgivable and life-threatening? Yuri continued harshly, spitting every word that left his mouth.

-Because I thought grandpa might still be there.

Oh.

Well, no one had guessed that, nor had been prepared for it.

-But then, I realised that he wasn’t, and that it was stupid to think so. He’s gone, and that hurted you, and I left. Saying that, Alexei folded onto himself, taking so little space in comparison to his stature, mirroring his voice, which was softer and quieter by each word uttered. Taking one last breath, he murmured, before stopping.

-I don’t want to hurt you.

Yuri had completely forgotten his previous anger burst, now looking more sad than anything else. He looked down, letting his blond hair hide his face, with a pensive look, before going in to give Alexei the hug they both needed. Just as low as his brother, he muttered.

-It’s fine, I don’t want to hurt you either. Instead, let's help each other repair.

That hit Viktor like a truck, the words way too deep for two sixteen years old kids.

He let them hug all their feelings out for a handful of minutes, before, carefully, speaking up, making sure not to startle anyone.

-What would help to comfort you both. The answer he got, heartwarming, especially in this particular situation, made him smile, bringing back distant and not so old, comforting memories.

-Piroshkis would be nice.

Sadly, no one in the household was experienced enough to quickly and efficiently bake a delicious, flawless batch of fresh piroshkis. Viktor was far from being good enough in the kitchen, and Yuuri had never actually tried making the tasteful pastries, always being treated to some by Nikolai every time the couple could ever desire some, in the past. The kids were normally able to make some, but getting them to do so, in their tired state, was out of question.

So, instead of the usual home-made ones, the four men got to taste some bakery ones, which the eldest rapidly bought from the best bakers in Saint-Petersburg, a title given by none other than the twins’ grandpa. They were lucky they were the kind of place that opened up in advance from the competition, preventing them from having to wait another hour. And they got to choose the freshest, best piroshkis in the place, as well as some other desired pastries.

The treats were, quickly, all gone, and soon enough, everyone went back to bed, like they had been doing for the last week. The difference this time was that, the twins left the bedroom door open.

Things were on the right path to recovery, it seemed like.

Chapter Text

Viktor had noticed the difference the moment it had occurred.

The kids had been doing better and better with each passing day since Alexei’s fugue. The line wasn’t straight, resembling more of a rollercoaster, with ups and down and moments when nothing was clear or sure. Alexei took walks more regularly than ever, staying out alone on the streets for three, four, five hours, sometimes twice a day. Yuri had outburst every so often, locking himself into the master bedroom to scream his heart out, scarring the animals every time. But, as a whole, the twins had been on the right path to recovery.

Until that very morning.

What had been the trigger for the change in behaviors, Viktor had no idea. Why they hadn’t gone through the phase of grieving before, when they had been at their lowest, he had not a single clue. But, he had to remember, Yuri and Alexei’s emotions had never been a smooth, cute trail for anyone to take and not get completely lost in.

He had had no difficulty catching sight of the change, though, so at least there had been that. Even if, one could probably argue that it had been pretty obvious.

Indeed, for the last few days, the kids had been restarting their training. Of course, it had been nothing extravagant, as the next in season for both of them was very far away, but simple, basic exercises, like running a few miles, or doing a few squats. What was needed, and maybe a smidge more, to keep the forms already acquired. And, for sure, practicing some small moves on the ice, at the arena.

There was a reason both twins were recognized as prodigious skaters, heading for a professional, successful, gold colored career in their respective on-ice sport. As anyone could guess, Yuri and Alexei loved skating.

They adored sliding on the ice, taking quick turns, going as fast as possible, jumping above whatever obstacle was in their way. It could be seen in their eyes, on their faces, it could be heard in the way they talked about skating and pretty much anything related to the activity, just how much they affectionated the way they could move on the hard surface, with the help of the special footwears. It was truly fascinating, to catch the glimpse in the viridian of their irises when they were on the ice. Such love and fondness and passion, from such grumpy teenagers, sure was a sight not everyone was given the chance to experience.

That’s why, when Alexei had expressed their mutual desire to go back to the rink for some recreational skating, Viktor had been more than supportive about it. If something, anything had the power to help, or better, speed up the kids’ grieving in a healthy, safe way, it surely was skating.

So, they had been going every so often, for the last few days, hitting in a few goals, jumping a few axles. And everytime, the space around them seemed a bit brighter, a bit more colorful, as if the kids’ well-being made the world a better place, all on its own. Viktor was far from arguing against that theory.

However, that morning, as the sun shone softly through the curtains, as the air lifted and transported the graceful odor of breakfast throughout the apartment, as life seemed to be a playful, worriless walk on which one could skip and sing and have a great time, neither Yuri, nor Alexei, had walked out the bedroom.

Viktor hadn’t thought a big deal of it, at first. The kids were notorious for not being morning people, and would often, if not obligated to start the day by training, stay in bed until ten, eleven p.m.. The door having been left open, the skater had made his way to the room, planning on, at least, waking them up. It had been a beautiful day afterall, wouldn’t want to miss it completely and sleep through it.

He had stopped right on his track, a hand on the door knob, the other on the frame.

Yuri and Alexei had been sitting side by side, on the edge of the bed, at an angle unabling Viktor from seeing their faces, but letting him take notice of everything else. The eldest had had his legs extended in front of him, hands squeezed between his thighs, while the youngest had had his legs crossed lazily, fingers intertwined together. The room had been submerged in complete, heavy silence, and Potya had been nowhere to be found, surely having already made her way to some other part of the apartment without the man noticing.

After a second of staring, Viktor had breathed in sharply, shaking his head to reload and organise his thoughts. Sure, it had been a strange sight to witness, the twins, together, being silent while awake. But it was nothing otherly alarming, so, until proven wrong, he would just let it slide.

-Hey, wakey wakey, it’s morning time! The sun is shining bright, the day is beautiful and we’ve got breakfast ready on the table! The man had sing-sang cheerfully, in an unsuccessful attempt to disperse the gloomy tension present in the place. Even though it hadn’t been immediate, the call had received a reaction, both boys standing up slowly, energilessly, heading towards Viktor, who had made way for them to pass the door before him. The perfect opportunity for him to run a quick facial and body expression exam on the two of them.

And it had honestly not been that bad. Maybe a little slouching at the shoulders, a little tired on the eyes, but otherwise, Yuri and Alexei had seemed fine. Not at the peak of their strength, but everyone had bad days once in a while.

Everyone had made their way to the table, where Yuuri had just finished placing the plates, and began eating, in silence.

That’s when Viktor had taken note of another clue, unconcequencial given the following events, but still a proof of his applaud-worthy observance skills.

The twins had been picking at their food.

Viktor had seen them eat a whole bunch of times in the past, entire meals and small snacks undifferenced. He knew how each one usually ate their food, Yuri taking big old bites that barely fit in his mouth, and Alexei practically inhaling the nourishments, as if breathing wasn’t necessary while food sat in front of him. It wasn’t always the same exact thing, of course. Sometimes they would be tired, and go slower, and other times they would not like one specific ingredient and argue about it instead of getting other it and ingesting the aliment. Or maybe they absolutely adored what had been placed into their plates, and took the longest time eating it, to bring it justice and savore it until the very last lick to the fork.

But they didn’t pick at their food. In the theoretical situation where they wouldn’t like the food, they would either have made it known loud and clear, or simply pick another option, as there were multiple choices available on the table, something Viktor and Yuuri had started doing after the twins’ arrival into their apartment, as it had been a constant in the Plisetsky household for years.

Once again, Viktor had made sense out of it, calming himself down and avoiding jumping immediately to the worst of conclusions. Maybe were the kids, simply, not hungry. They had been way less active than usual these past few days, therefore, needing less nutrients. It had all made sense, once he had stopped and took a moment to think more deeply about it.

The meal had gone on, calmly, silently, eventlessly, until everyone was almost finished, their plates nearly empty in front of them. Yuuri, making one last attempt to cheer everyone up before the official start of the day, spoked up, talking to the twins.

-What are you going to practice today at the arena? It was a great idea, directing the conversation towards skating. Couldn’t go wrong with that topic, when the other party was Yuri and Alexei. Well, until someone started giving out their opinions on certain skaters or hockey teams. These were mine fields, to avoid at all cost, as no information was left unknown by the kids, and they tended to have very strong opinions on stuff like this.

-We don’t wanna go, today.

It took a second for Viktor to register what Yuri had just pronounced, what words had just left the blond boy’s mouth. They… They didn’t wish to go skating?

Yuuri, next to the eldest man, displayed his surprise by retreating back in his seat. Even so, he was the first of the two adults to reply, nothing shocking there, really. Viktor was completely stunned in place, unable to make a sound even if he was asked to, eyes as large as the plates sitting on the table, in front of him.

-Oh? Alright. A pause was made, before the man continued.

-Do you want to do anything else, then?

He was answered with silent, negative, head shakes, before the twins, just as quietly, simultaneously, stood up, placed their plates and utensils into the dishwasher, and walked back to the bedroom. They closed the door, after Yuri had gone back to pick up Potya.

Viktor and Yuuri, after staying still for a second, turned to look at eachother, in desperation and sadness. Were they really back to the original point? How long would it last, why had it come back? Were all of their efforts worth nothing in the end? Were they not enough? Was he not enough? Why hadn’t all the care he had given them work? Why wasn’t he able to-

-Seems like this is a down day, Yuuri spoke up, snapping the silver haired man, out of his thoughts. His lips were twisted into a strange smile, resembling the expression one would make after biting into a lemon, but, otherwise, he looked calm enough. After a second, Viktor looked away, up to the ceiling, before replying.

-Yeah, apparently.

In contrast to what Viktor had originally assumed, the twins were not back to their original situation. They had, in fact, fallen into a much worse phase.

The days following the kids’ arrival at the couple’s apartment, they had avoided the exterior of the room as much as they could. The only moments where they could be seen were meals and, once in a while, when they were on their way to the bathroom. In short, they would subsist in the room, unless it was for providing basic survival needs.

Now, they wouldn’t even do so, the adults having to leave them plates of food in front of the door, in order for them to not starve to death.

It had been sequential, getting worse with each step, which were very short and quick to follow each other, giving no one any time to adjust properly. It had started simple. The twins would retreat back to their room, and stay in it until called out, for dinner, as an example. The days following, they would take longer and longer, before stepping out the door. Then, they had stopped taking showers everyday, for a more free schedule, of one shower everyday two, three days. Viktor and Yuuri had stayed silent for most of it, deciding together, Yuri and Alexei just needed time to get back on their feet.

But when Yuuri realised Yuri hadn’t brushed his teeth for almost a week, and that Alexei had barely eaten anything for just as long, they took the chance to look more into it.

It honestly was a miracle that, and a complete mystery why, Yuri hadn’t completely stopped taking care of Potya, seeing his current state. The bags under his eyes were worriedly prominent, a frightening contrast from his colorless skin, which had obviously not seen the shadow of a soap for quite awhile now. His hair, as well, had never been so greasy, so messy, all of his usual silkiness and shy brightness, seemingly gone for good. It was, unfortunately, not needed to be said, but the boy also had this stickiness, that particular odor around him, acrid, nose-scrunching. The illusion of the Russian fairy was no longer in sight, had left a long time ago.

Alexei, on his end, wasn’t any better than his brother. Mirroring the blond, he clearly hadn’t taken a proper shower in quite a while, his face, as pale as Yuri’s usual tone, glowing with sebum, valorising the almost purple bags. His lips were crusty and dry, and his eyebrow piercing definitely needed a clean up, hair tangled into the small balls at each end, dead skin surrounding the two holes where the jewelry entered the epidermis. His hair was just as expected, messy beyond belief, and dirty just the right amount for Viktor to have to suppress a disgusted grimace. The same scent, smelled near Yuri, was glued to the boy, maybe was it a bit stronger on him. Everything about Alexei, just like his brother, looked greasy and weak. The Russian tiger was very well hidden, if he was still present.

The twins' eyes, in contradiction to beliefs, didn’t shock and scare and worry Viktor more than he had anticipated. Maybe was it because he had grown adjusted to such heartbreaking sights. Maybe was it because there wasn’t actually anything to trigger such emotions, in the kids’ orbs. Because it was all there was. Nothing, complete and utter emptiness.

Letting Yuri and Alexei stay alone, without surveillance, all day, in the master bedroom, hadn’t been his greatest idea ever, Viktor now realised. The situation had gotten out of hand, slipping through uncareful fingers.

He honestly should have known, should have catched on to the clues that had been dropped for the past few days. He hated, despised remembering those times, but two years prior, he had been in the exact same position as the twins. He remembered how all motivation, all will, never seemed to enter his body, how he would not get out of bed, not of laziness, but because he genuinely hadn’t been able to, how finding reasons to keep on trying seemed impossible.

Luckily, he quickly stopped his train of thought, he was in a much better place now, with Yuuri alongside him, medication he took regularly, and, simply, a wish to keep on pushing. Right at that moment, what he needed to do was take care of the teenagers in what had once been his bedroom.

The two kids, the youngest sitting on the floor, the eldest laying on the bed, looked over at the adults throughout the whole inspection, with a kind of lazy, but mostly just uninterested, detached, demeanour.

Surprisingly enough, Yuuri didn’t speak first, the silence prolonging itself, up until Viktor decided on greeting the twins, as a starter.

-Hello, Yurochka, Lyoshenka. No reaction was given to him, which was expected. He continued, gaining somewhat a tiny bit of confidence.

-Would you like to do something? Take a shower, or go on a walk? he asked, making sure to not force any decisions of the twins. Viktor remembered, when getting things done would have taken all of his energy, being told to do the same actions only achieved to make him hate himself even more.

It took some time before any reply was given, but the patience was worth it, as Yuri, surprisingly in a pretty normal voice tone, answered, followed with an approving nod from his brother.

-A shower sounds nice.

-Alright, the skater smiled, glad to receive the positive answer. Then, who goes in first?

For that one, it didn’t take any time before a response was being said, surely, because it seemed as if insulting each other was coded inside the twins’ genes.

-Yuka can go first. He fucking stinks.

-Fuck off, I ain’t the one sweating on my side of the bed.

-Who is it, then, you fucking fountaine?

-You, motherfucker.

Despite the miserable situation they were in, as in, how even Yuri seemed completely emotionless whilst talking, Viktor couldn’t quite stop himself from finding the whole thing a smidge funny. The overuse of the f word, the subject of the disagreement, the fact that neither twin had moved from their previous places, insulting each other without even looking at the other one. The addition of every, small, detail, had the man snicker to himself, before he had to stop the bickering, in fear of it evolving into a more serious, more enraged argument, unstoppable, therefore. The memory of their last fight was still fresh in his mind, and they obviously weren’t emotionally stable enough at the moment.

-Alright, alright, you two, this isn’t the moment. What are the alternatives? he stepped in, pulling out, yet another, strategy he had learned from watching Nikolai work his art. Have them think about solutions, diverting their attention away from their argument.

Finally moving into their places, Yuri turning around to face the bed, and Alexei rolling on his stomach, before each one pulled out two hands, for a very quick game of rock-paper-scissors, which ended with Yuri pulling out a paper, and Alexei, a scissor gesture, signaling the victory of the eldest one. Quietly groaning, the boy got up from the mattress, announcing quietly.

-Guess I’m going.

Which made no sense, but no one tried to argue with him, the twins acting as if it had been the logical outcome, in such situation, to occur, as if it had been expected. However, what no one had thought might happen, was for Alexei to fall down on his knees, almost right after getting up on his two feet.

Their bodies acting on instinct, the two adults ran to the boy, holding him in place in order for him not to continue his fall, his upper body having already been positioned into a dangerous angle above the floor. Potya, who had been sitting nearby watching the whole scene, jumped and swiftly made her way to Yuri’s lap. The blond, Viktor saw from the corner of his eye, made a movement to stand up, surely in order to help his brother as well, but quickly fell back on the ground. So it wasn’t just a blood pressure thing. It was, probably, a lifestyle issue.

For the first time since he had entered the room, Yuuri spoke up, worry dripping from his words, panic accompanying it in great amounts.

-Lyoshenka, are you okay?

Any further questions about the hockey player’s well being were cut short, as said hockey player, tried to get up weakly, stubbornly, groaning from the efforts the actions must have taken from him. Hurriedly, Viktor pushed him back on the ground, a place way safer than anywhere else, at that moment.

-Woh, sit down, you’re not going anywhere.

The boy continued to, try to, fight back, for a small moment afterwards, unsuccessfully of course. However, to his surprise, Viktor had to stand up, using his weight, in order to properly secure him on the floor. He may be dangerously weakened, but he had to remember that, Alexei was a sixteen years old professional athlete, in a sport that trained his brute force and strength every single day, exercising his muscle mass, which he was already, naturally prone to have stronger than the average. He was far from being the toddler that grabbed Viktor's arm, mirroring his brother, while the skater pulled them off the ground, spinning around like a swing ride, giggles and joyful screams filling the air.

-Stay still, the man called out, once again. After that, Alexei very quickly gave up, letting his whole body go loose, as if all strength had left him at once. After a few seconds, Viktor crouched down, to face the boy, in order to have a proper, civil conversation.

-Hey, it’s alright, it’s alright. Once again taking a small break, this time to make sure everything actually was fine, he asked.

-Can I know why you were struggling like that?

Silence was the only reply Viktor got, until, unexpectedly, Alexei decided himself to, at the very least, give him a clue, a small hint.

-’Cause I want to take it, the shower.

-Yeah, I get that, and you’re going to have one, but pushing yourself like that isn’t going to achieve anything good. We’ll help, don’t worry. Anything you want us to do, you just have to ask.

Alexei shook his head in understandment, and, after a small moment, asked, voice uncertain.

-Can you help me get up?

-Yes, of course, Viktor replied, smiling at him in encouragement. Placing himself in the well-known, under the arm posture, Alexei’s elbow behind his neck, his own arm around the boy’s waist, as to make sure to keep him up straight, the man carefully, steadily, stood up. Before attempting to make his way to the bathroom, he turned to Yuuri, who was now standing next to him.

-Can you keep an eye on Yurochka, please? The answer was immediate, the younger man nodding his head positively, therefore, giving Viktor the green light to start the adventure that was, leading Alexei to the bathroom.

Which wasn’t as hard as one could assume, actually. The bathroom and bedroom were placed right next to each other, making the travel between the two very short. Alexei wasn’t completely limb anymore, and did his fair share of the effort, supporting a great amount, maybe even a little bit too much, of his weight while walking. And, he couldn’t forget that, as greatly as he had thought about the dark haired boy’s physical strength previously, he, himself, was far from being weak.

So, soon enough, the two of them arrived at their destination. The adult was just about to speak up, when he heard his phone ring, from the pocket of his jacket. Quickly changing his speech program, he asked.

-Can I take this? The eldest twin nodded, Viktor lowering him slowly, on the tile floor, in order to be more comfortable while, at least, checking who was calling him, on his personal phone, furthermore. He had his professional calling device, the one he used for sponsorship related, or, really, any job affiliated, rings, left on the kitchen table, on silent, as to not distract him from the twins. He must have forgotten to do the same thing with his second cell phone, but he wasn’t exactly mad either. Right now, the kids weren’t in immediate need of his full attention, and, if this phone rang, and not the other one, it must be serious, maybe a doctor’s call, or Yuri and Alexei’s education program’s, for example. The only other option at that moment, was for a fellow skater to be the one calling, in which situation, Viktor would simply ignore them for the time being.

His face twisted into a frown when he finally took out his still ringing phone out of his pocket, still crouched next to Alexei. The reason being that, the ID showing on the screen, was nowhere near what the man had imagined.

“Novoselov Funeral Home” it read.

After making sure his phone wasn’t set to speaker, Viktor finally took the call, getting greeted straight away, by the rough voice of a woman, who must have smoked cigarettes everyday for the last thirty years.

-Hello, this is Novoselov Funeral Home calling. You sir, are Viktor Maksimovich Nikiforov?

Understanding very little of the current situation, Viktor answered with the positive, on autopilot, his brain too busy, trying to find itself a way out of the confusion it was currently swimming in. The woman, surely a secretary for the corporate, or, holding a similar post, continued.

-You are invited to Nikolai Anatolyevich Plisetsky’s funeral, on May the third. The address is…

And Viktor didn’t hear anything of what was said next, his body seemingly having stopped working for a second, all of its energy focused on registering the new, shocking, information that had just been given to him.

Nikolai’s funeral. How could he have forgotten.

But also, who had arranged the whole thing? He sure hadn’t done any procedures, the doctors at the hospital having told him he would be called when, if, they needed him to sign some papers or organise anything along the way. It had been close to four weeks ago, and no call, no email had been sent to him.

And Nikolai had no relatives, out of Yuri and Alexei, except for… For her.

That monster, child abuser, self-centered, horrible person that she was.

Feodora.

Chapter Text

-We’re here, Viktor called out, grabbing the attention of the two kids, who had been dozing off in the back seats of his pink Corvette. Yuuri, sitting next to the driver, yawned as well, mouth going wide, stretching his arms as far as he could with the car’s roof over his head. It had been a long, never-ending seeming, seven hour long ride.

The grey haired man walked out the vehicle, stretching as well, his back muscles screaming at him at the top of their lungs. The group had only taken two breaks throughout the whole ordeal, twenty minutes of walking around a grocery store’s parking lot, plus a brief pause to eat some takeout, and Viktor’s body had not appreciated the immobility it had been forced in for so long.

After a moment of silence and stillness, Viktor went back to the Corvette, opening the back door, discovering the twins gradually starting to emerge from their previous semi slumber, and his fiancee still stretching, saying words of encouragement to the kids, just as much as his own person.

-We’re here, guys, it’s time to wake up.

Such care, such sweetness, in the man’s voice, it made the other adult’s heart flutter in his chest, and a smile illuminate his, also sore, face. Anyone had barely talked in the last two hours of the trip.

-Wake up, he repeated, sounding way less soft and nice than Yuuri, but more, cheerful, annoying, the kids would have added, if they could read his thoughts. Which, apparently, they had the power to do, when they deemed such capacities necessary for the given situation.

-Shut up. Let Yurets do the talking, he’s way cooler than you, Yuri moodily ordered, leaning forward in his seat to look past his brother, next to him, and give poor Viktor a murderous, though absolutely non threatening in the receiver’s eyes, glare.

-What hour is it, Alexei asked, completely ignoring the conversation happening above his head. While opening the door, Yuuri took out his phone from his pocket, before answering, louder to be heard by the ones still inside the car.

-It’s five minutes past four, we’re sooner than needed. There’s no need to rush, really. And you boys have complete reign over what we should do while here.

The last part had been said, specified and repeated, from the moment Viktor and Yuuri had sat down to talk about the whole thing with the kids, the evening after the skater had received a call from the funeral home.

The couple had had a quick discussion beforehand, while Alexei had been in the shower. Viktor had asked if it was okay for his black haired caregiver to leave Yuri’s side for a second, the man following him out of the bedroom after the boy had nodded his approval. The almost murmured conversation had gone something like this.

-The funeral home called me, for Kolya’s funeral. It’s probably Feodora holding it.

-Okay. Who is Feodora?

-The twins’ mother. She’s an abusive bitch.

-Alright. We’ll talk to them. It’ll be Yurochka and Lyoshenka’s decision if we go or not.

-Of course.

Then one had gone back to the blond child’s side, while the other turned to ask the other twin if he needed any help or supplies.

Five hours later, everyone had been sitting around the diner table, eating and munching on food with various appetites, when Viktor had made up his mind, and spoke up. The kids had each cleaned up, everyone had relaxed, and he really hadn’t wanted to wait too long before making the announcement. Especially since the dreaded event hadn’t been so far away on the calendar.

-Yurochka, Lyoshenka, he had started, I got a call this afternoon. Alexei had nodded his head, probably recalling that it had happened, while Yuri hadn’t reacted much, only displaying a little confusion and interest, surely wondering why the man in front of him had been talking about such a small, uninteresting thing. Yuuri, next to him, had visibly concentrated, to be ready and do his part in the following conversation.

Careful to every sign of reaction the kids might have displayed, Viktor had continued.

-It was from the funeral home.

The room had gone completely silent, completely still.

-It’s for your grandpa’s funeral. The chances are, your mother is the one hosting the ceremonie.

Viktor had waited a second, before finishing.

-Do you want to go?

No one had moved, for what had seemed like a good minute, before the answer had been given.

-I do, Yuri had spoken up, affirmatively, quickly followed by his brother.

-Yeah. Some deep thought process had seemingly been used to take the mutual decision, but none of it had been heard. And Viktor had not been going to ask neither of the kids to explain it, as they had seemed so sure, so confident in their answer, rare would have the ones that could have doubted them, that could have, even, imagined it not being the ideal solution, at that moment.

-Okay, the man had simply replied. Just, tell us if anything changes, alright?

He had been answered by two silent nods, and the conversation had pretty much ended there.

This time as well, Viktor was met with two wordless shakes of the head. However, it was clear that, this time, the replies were completely honest, the twins truly taking note of the promise, ready to use it to its full potential, if need be.

Without rushing, maybe even, hesitating a bit, the two boys walked out of the bright pink car, Alexei first, Yuri following him closely. Their discomfort had visibly grown exponentially when they had set foot in the parking lot, large shoulders already hunching, thin fingers already getting twisted between blond locks.

Nikolai wasn’t there anymore.

Last time the kids had been seen near their mother, the old man had been present, to fight, to defend, to protect, to prevent his grandsons from having to deal with that woman any more than they had already had, for years, atrociously passing the limit of acceptable. He had sent them, and the silver haired man, back to his old car, while he had argued, making sure they were safe, making sure, no one would get hurt in the process.

It was now Viktor’s turn, to do exactly that. Sure, he wasn’t planning to fight over custody of the kids, or anything as grand as Nikolai had done back then, but he was, he was certain of it, going to protect Yuri and Alexei, all throughout the dozens of minutes the ceremony would extend itself in. Because they were not going to stay there afterwards, that had already been discussed.

Puffing up his chest, trying to trick himself into believing he wasn’t even a smidge afraid, Viktor turned to face the huge, grey, cold building that was the mortuary.

Inside, he knew, Feodora was waiting for them. Waiting for the twins, to walk straight back into her claws and fangs.

Following an exhausted looking employee, the group of four turned the corner, stepping inside a small, separate hall, revealing a medium height, unnaturally dark haired, pale skinned woman already standing there, dressed fancily in a black dress and jacket combo, expensive golden jewelry heavily hanging from her wrists and neck. She turned when she heard the sound of their shoes on the floor, her, very obviously fake, smile dropping the moment she laid her brown eyes on the couple standing in front of her.

It returned, twisted, cruel, dangerous, when she noticed Yuri and Alexei, behind the two adults.

-Viktor Maksimovich Nikiforov, if I’m not mistaken? she asked, making her way up to them, extending out a hand for the eldest to shake, which he did, partly out of reflex, partly out of sheer spite. He was going to be the most polite, most diplomatic person present at that reception, while he adopted that woman’s two children.

Because setting his eyes on their mother had, all on its own, completely changed Viktor’s plan about getting Yuri and Alexei’s custody.

As they all began walking further into the hall, the feeling more one of a rabbit jumping into a fox’s mouth, Feodora continued, her voice piercing through the very tense atmosphere surrounding them.

-The priest shall arrive in a few minutes. The casket is at the front of the room.

-Aren’t other guests supposed to arrive, as well? Viktor asked, genuinely intrigued by the lack of mention the host had given about any other person attending the ceremony, and the otherwise completely empty hall. They had managed to arrive a bit sooner than requested, but it wasn’t so much that other guests couldn’t have arrived as well, especially since most of the ones he had assumed would be present lived in the very same city the ceremony had dragged them to, Moscow. On the outside, however, the grey-haired man was pulling out every trick years of dealing with the overly aggressive media employees had taught him. Polite smile, calm tone, professional, elegant posture.

-No, there isn’t, she answered, his confusion growing. Why wouldn’t-

-Why would anybody else be present, may I ask? she continued.

-Well, Kolya did have friends, didn’t he.

-Oh. And why would I invite those?

Ah.

She really just, didn’t have a good side, did she?

To be very honest, Viktor didn’t know a lot about Nikolai’s friends and old colleagues, as he never talked much about his personal life. He mostly only remembered that the man had befriended most of them by playing hockey on the same team. And, he had been told once that it had been thanks to a previous hockey partner that he and his grandsons had gone to the arena, near Moscow, where the skater had first met them. He also knew, the old man would, from time to time, have a reunion with a bunch of his friends, over a glass of vodka, updating themselves on everyone’s life, because Viktor would be asked to stay and take care of the twins while he was gone. They had all stayed relatively close and friendly with each other, maintaining contact throughout the years. He was sure, whoever they may be, they would have liked to attend their friend’s funeral.

He would try to contact all of them, afterwards, to at least, inform them about Nikolai’s passing. Right now, though, was not the time to start worrying about it.

He was about to reply, something he wasn’t sure what it was going to be, when he noticed the emptiness of the space behind him and Yuuri.

To his right, the twins were slowly, silently, carefully making their way between the few rows of wooden benches, up to the small stand, in the back of the room, where was standing a large, also wooden, table.

A casket was displayed on it, just as Feodora had said.

Viktor heard Yuuri’s voice, the other man, supposedly, speaking up to call the kids, before he was interrupted abruptly, by the woman standing in front of them.

-Yulienka, Lyoshenka, I didn’t say you could move.

Everyone flinched, in their own way.

Yuuri’s eyes widened, his jaw clenching, while Viktor felt his mind emptying itself, his smile turning into what could be described as a smirk. As for the boys, they both brutally stopped all movement, Yuri’s fists tightening, Alexei’s shoulders hunching forward. And, the skater was sure, their faces, currently out of his view, described so much more about what exactly they felt and thought at that exact moment.

On the contrary of the men in the room, Viktor’s brain, after a split second of immobility, restarted working, emotions and images flashing inside his head. How should he react, how should he reply? Yuri had assured them, sometime before, that he was okay with them outing him to Feodora, as he never intended to see her ever again, and, the chances of her not already having noticed her son was, indeed, not a girl, were too low to take into account. So, should he correct her about Yuri’s name? Or would that give her a reason to snap? The first reason for their coming, was for the twins to say goodbye to their grandpa one last time, properly. If Feodora started drama now, that wouldn’t be possible, most likely. So what should he do? Just let it slide? No, that would be even worse than messing up, that would be, letting that woman get her grip back on the children. He couldn’t do that. So, maybe…

-You can go, boys, we’ll deal with her, Yuuri, voice assured, encouraging eyes on the twins, spoke up, breaking Viktor’s train of thought, while also earning himself a sharp, disgusted look from Feodora.

-And may I know who you think you are, inciting my own children to disobey me? Any restraint to make herself look composed and professional was now dropped, sharp, thin brows furrowed in a furious angle, lips reshaped up and down, hands clenched in front of her, together. Complete disbelief, repugnance in her eyes. Viktor was sure, if it hadn’t been for the makeup she was wearing, her cheeks would have already been red with rage.

-A better human being, is who I am, Yuuri replied, standing up straight, eyes icy cold directed directly into Feodora’s brown ones.

When he had first met him, well, in his normal state let’s say, Viktor had assumed the japanese man was the insecure, shy, panicky type of person. And while he hadn’t been fully wrong about that first impression, there were also times, where he would prove the exact opposite of that. The truth was, Yuuri, on the contrary of his fiancee, was confident, when it was most needed.

This was one of those moments.

He continued, not letting his opponent have a chance to bite back.

-You are calling them your children, but there is a reason Kolya took them away from you. Now, these boys came here, not for you to hurt them in unnecessary ways for your enjoyment, but to mourn and say their goodbyes to their grandpa. So if you would be kind enough and let them do that in peace, that would be great.

Yuuri, apparently, was not sticking to the fake politeness the other two adults had shown before his interruption. If someone had asked Viktor, he would have said he had never been more proud of his boyfriend. His words seemed to act as a slap into Feodora’s face, her eyes widening, her lips parting ever so slightly, her face dropping. The shocked expression was quickly replaced, however, by an outraged one, as if she simply couldn’t believe someone could talk to her like that.

-How… dare you, she almost whispered, voice shaky, her composure totally lost. She went on.

-I, gave birth to them. I gave them a roof, food on the table, and an education. I even paid for everything that was needed for them to practice those sports, the material, the classes, the special academic programs, agreed with everything, without asking for anything else, not anything in return, except for them to not make it all go to waste, to make something out of it. A simple task, I believe. But no, of course, I am accused of being an abusive mother, who doesn’t love her children, she said, pointing a finger at Viktor’s fiancee, long, painted nail looking ready to stab him through his button-up shirt.

-You paid for stuff, but you sure did not support Yurochka and Lyoshenka in any way, he spoke back, brows furrowing, anger starting to show through his features, changing his voice ever so slightly.

-What is there to support? You, homosexuals, don’t have any kind of idea what and what is not acceptable. My daughter told you she was a boy, that liar, and you all simply decided to believe her. You just go with everything, without a care in the world about what is right or wrong, she said shakily, doing a confusing shift in subjects.

The longer she opened her mouth, the more Viktor hated that woman. At this point however, he wasn’t even surprised anymore.

Homophobia, and transphobia, had been fought, and mostly won, against, worldwide years prior, when the now professional skater wasn’t even born. He had learned afterwards that it had implied a lot of educating people via the media, and governments adjusting laws to make sure no discrimination would be acceptable under any circumstances, against anyone. Of course some people, especially in culturally conservative countries, still believed in the old ways, holding onto their judgemental preconceived ideas, stubbornly staying in place while the rest of society moved forward, slowly making its way towards the right direction. It was the case in Russia, where the government hadn’t exactly done everything right or with the most effort. A lot of the steps had been passed over, like the mandatory teaching of all population, and, if what the twins had said was still the case, same gender relationships were barely talked about in sex education, or in any classes, really.

It was truly a sad sight, and an infuriating one, as well, when uneducated, unwilling to learn people, happened to be parents, pushing these ways onto their kids, and crap, when one of those children just happened to be part of the LGBTQ+ community.

Viktor was about to step in the argument, but Yuuri, his perfect Yuuri, was not finished with their common enemy, it seemed , as he quickly replied back, rage now filling his every, cold, word.

-Maybe you should be more careful about what you confess, we could bring you to court for what you just said.

Fear immediately filled up Feodora’s eyes, her mouth shaking, just as much as her voice, when she spoke up.

-You wouldn’t.

-Oh, yes I would.

That was another something that had come in the package, this one, that the country they lived in had actually fully adopted. Bringing someone to court because of homophobic or transphobic issues was totally acceptable and valid, and taken as seriously as any other crime. People had been sent to prison for saying slurs, in the same way it had always been for racist insults. If proven guilty, every detail of the crime was written down on the offender's criminal papers, making any potential employer know of their bigotry.

As far as Viktor knew, Feodora worked in the media industry. If he recalled correctly, she had been a russian idol for a few years, before retiring prematurely, possibly because of her pregnancy. Afterwards, she had gone back to the surface, that time, sitting in front of a camera and telling Russia the latest, most exciting news. In short, she was a very public figure. If she had the bad luck of getting even one criminal case, she would, presumably, be forced into a second early retirement, with, this time, no chance to find a job again.

Yuuri was basically threatening her to end her whole career, and Viktor was all there for it. He would have cheered and applauded, if it wouldn’t have been for the situation they were in.

-Please don’t. Please, not that, she asked, her attitude having done a radical turn from what it had previously been, as she now sounded, and looked, lost, desperate, terrified. She continued, her voice much lower than what it had been just seconds before.

-What, what should I do, what do you want me to do, for you not to do it?

-Nothing. We will bring you to court, and you will be punished.

-But, but the children won’t have anywhere to go! I’m the only guardian who’s remaining! she exclaimed, lips stretching, eyes crazy, as if she had found the one flaw in Yuuri’s speech, the one crack she could slip into, to flee from, to avoid the inevitable. The black haired man, however, was far from being impressed by her sudden realisation, as he replied back, without any hesitation.

-They will always be welcomed into our home, he said, gripping Viktor’s arm in the process. The eldest man could only nod affirmatively at that statement. They had already been taking care of the boys for weeks now, and, even though it had been far from easy and simple, he didn’t regret it in the least, he wouldn’t have taken a different decision, at any time. Next to him, Yuuri quickly continued.

-We’ll just do the proper steps to obtain guardianships while they throw you in prison.

And while the couple hadn’t actually discussed the subject of adoption before, Viktor knew, what his fiancee had just said, was the complete truth.

Chapter Text

After a moment of total silence inside the hall, Feodora walked out, steps quick, febrile, shaky, by the fear she very obviously felt, for her soon to be finished career, towards Yuuri.

The two adults watched her exit the room without a word before, simultaneously, turning to see how the twins were handling the whole situation. The conversation that had just been held had not been a quiet one, and the room wasn’t a particularly large one either, making the kids perfectly capable of hearing every sentence that had just been said.

Yuri and Alexei were still backs turned to Viktor and Yuuri. From afar, they seemed unmoving, but, as the older duo got closer to them, the silver haired man could see, their shoulders were shaking.

They were crying.

The adults positioned themselves in front of the casket, next to the kids, surrounding them, before Yuuri set a comforting hand on eldest brother’s shoulder, Viktor quickly imitating him, doing the same with the youngest. He could see the tears rolling down Alexei’s cheeks, silently, slowly. Yuri’s face was hidden behind his blond locks, but Viktor was sure, his skin was just as flooded as his twin’s.

In front of them, the casket was opened. It was, surprisingly, a pretty close fit to what he would assume Nikolai would have wanted to lay in, for eternity. The dark wood was lightly ornamented, frills accenting carefully carved flowers on the lid and sides of the casket, the whole aesthetic staying clean and simple, the materials nothing extravagant, though still of very good quality, without any over the top details. It was sober, elegant, and the choice of it would probably be the only compliment Viktor would be ever willing to give Feodora.

Inside the casket, Nikolai laid, his eyes closed, features calm, serene, as if sleeping, comfortable enough on the dark, toned down velvet padding.

Viktor wasn’t religious. He hadn’t, simply, been raised in a religious family, his parents being atheist. He didn’t know where one would go after life, once dead, or even if people actually went somewhere in those conditions. But, he knew Nikolai had been Orthodox, going to church every Sunday, referencing Heaven, angels, and God, even if it wasn’t a very recurrent conversation subject. So, even if he, himself, was sort of puzzled in front of a system like Heaven, he still wished for the old man to get sent up there, to meet up with his late wife, and continue watching over his grandsons, even if it was from a distance.

The quadrio stayed still, silently mourning the man for a handful of minutes, before the echo of soles hitting the floor resonated throughout the hall, the sound indicating the newcomer had entered the small room. Turning around, Viktor set his eyes on the small, almost hairless man who was standing in the entry, his clothes giving away his position as a priest, surely there to lead the funeral service.

The priest walked in the hall slowly, uncertainty painted across his face, across his movements. His eyes shifted across the space a few times, before he turned towards the group, voice surprisingly low pitched for his almost frail stature.

-Nikolaevna Plisetskaya isn’t with you? Putting on a smile, Viktor stated.

-No, but she won’t be coming back. After a small moment of reflection, he continued, to ask.

-By the way, is it still possible to make some adjustments to the location of the cemetery plot? I’ll pay for any extra money it can cost.

-Erh, I’ll have to ask, it’s not in my department to deal with that. Where would you want Mr. Plisetsky to be buried?

-Saint-Petersburg.

The arrangements with the funeral home having taken up the whole rest of the day, the small group decided to stay the night over at an hotel, a comfy two bedroom, three beds suite, with two bathrooms, a small living room area and a kitchen. It was nothing fancy, really, but for a last minute reservation like the one they had done, Viktor was far from unsatisfied.

While he and Yuuri were looking online for the various choices of delivering food they could have for dinner, Yuri called out for them, voice loud to make himself heard from the bathroom, where he had just finished refreshing up.

-VITYA, CAN YOU CALL SOMEONE TO TAKE CARE OF POTYA?

-Yes, I’ll do it, he replied back, much quieter than the blond behind the door, but still loud enough, he knew, for him to hear him just right. Most of the time, Viktor would shout back, but at that moment, he wasn’t exactly in the mood for it. Rearranging a cemetery plot was much more legal talk than he had anticipated, the afternoon’s unfinished arrangements had completely drained him. And the water had stopped running, there was no reason for screaming to be necessary in order for Yuri to understand him perfectly fine.

He was glad that he had reminded him though, as Viktor had, not forgotten, but more of, pushed the thought of the two animals that had stayed back at the apartment aside. He would have surely remembered about them at some point, but it was better to call someone now than later. The more he waited, the shorter his list of possible willing people became.

As he and Yuuri had been looking up the restaurants on his phone, Viktor picked up his fiancee’s, that had been resting flat on the coffee table, in front of the couch. After a few taps on the device’s screen, the man’s fingers came to a stop, as he took a moment to think of who could he possibly ask for such a favor.

Of course, Viktor knew, everyone he would even think about would do it, but, he also was well aware that, not everyone would proceed without any problems being thrown his way. If he called Yakov, his coach would, most likely, have him work extra hard the next time they would practice, which he would most appreciate not being forced to do. Lilia was out of question, as she was not in town at that moment, for a reason that Viktor had either forgotten, or had never been told in the first place.

Which left Georgi and Mila as possible candidates. And the moment the young woman’s name crossed the silver haired’s mind, he knew she was not an option, no matter what. Asking Mila for favors, or, really, the smallest of requests, had him turned into a slave more than once in the past, when he had still been young and innocent. And now that he had learned, he was, in fact, not willing to go through it again.

Which left Georgi as the winner of the caretaker-of-Makkachin-and-Potya-for-that-night title.

Swiftly, Viktor tapped on the man’s name, before placing the phone next to his ear, waiting for him to pick up.

-Yes? Is everything alright? Amused by the very worried greeting, Viktor answered, before asking.

-Everything is alright, yes. Can I ask why you’re asking that?

-Oh, Vitya, it’s you. Well, because you and Yurets and the twins were gone to Nikolai’s funeral, right?

Indeed, Georgi knew of the evenements that had taken place that day, as Viktor had been keeping in touch with him and everyone else under Yakov’s teaching, using the group chat they had created a long time ago, under circumstances that the man couldn’t recall to save his life. If he had to take a guess, it would have most likely been either him or Georgi asking for it, but for which reasons, he couldn’t begin to think about it. It had, at first, only been him, Georgi, Mila, and Yakov being invited in the chat. After a moment Lilia had been added, even though neither her nor her now ex-husband used it very often, usually only sending messages when two or three of the young adults would be texting late in the night, to tell them to go to bed. When Yuri had joined them at the Sports Champion Club, he had also been added to the group chat, quickly followed by Alexei, as no one who knew the russian fairy, didn’t know the russian tiger. And it wasn’t as if, if his brother hadn’t been added, the blond wouldn’t have shown him all of the messages sent either way. And finally, Yuuri had joined them a couple months ago, even though he had never actually been coached by Yakov yet. Everyone knew it was coming soon enough, so there was no point in waiting for it to be official.

Sometimes the conversation would be left weeks without a single message being sent within it, and sometimes, it would be used almost hourly. But what was most usual, was for the groupchat to be written in when one of the skaters had an announcement to make to the other ones, which they hadn’t thought about or had the time to speak about during practice.

So, when the whole, situation, had started, Viktor had explained to everyone why he and the other man living with him wouldn’t be able to see anyone else for some time, and why Yuri and Alexei would most likely not reply back to any text message within the same time period. The twins had told him afterwards that the blond had texted Otabek to tell him he wouldn’t be able to talk to him for some time, and the brunet, his hockey team, using their own group chat. As far as the man knew, that was the whole of the communication the kids had had with the outside world at the beginning of their grieving.

-So it was held by the twins' mother. And we all know how she is, Georgi continued, voice going, somewhat darker, at the end of his sentence.

Everyone in Yakov’s team also knew about Feodora and the mistreatment she had perpetrated towards her boys, to some extent. No one, not even Viktor, knew the whole story, but they were all aware of the important parts, like, not to mention a specific tv program, if they didn’t want to be tasked with uplifting Yuri and Alexei’s mood afterwards. And because no one appreciated seeing the kids sad.

-Yes, she was there. But everyone is fine, and she won’t bother the kids anymore, Viktor assured him, his pride towards his soon-to-be-husband showing between his words. Yuuri had really did that, in the most efficient, most brutal, most perfect manner that he could have ever dreamed to ever achieve.

-That’s good. So, in that case, why did you call me?

Surprisingly, the man on the other side of the phone hadn’t asked for more detail regarding the whys and hows. But, Viktor knew it very well, he would be drowned in questions the moment he would set foot at the arena, as long as the twins were out of ear shot.

-We left Makkachin and Potya at home, and we need someone to give them food and change their water tomorrow morning. Also if you could take Makkachin out for a walk, that would be great.

A moment of silence was the only answer he got, until a loud sigh made itself heard.

-Alright, alright. Yakov still keeps a spare of your keys in his office, right?

-Yeah.

-Then I’ll go grab them first thing tomorrow. Viktor flashed a big, toothy smile, at the man that could not see him.

-Thank you! He sang-song. The two men exchanged their goodbyes, before ending the call. Yuri had now gotten out of the bathroom, his hair still very wet from his shower, blond locks dripping on the floor and the white towel the boy had around his neck. He sat down, even though Viktor would have more described the action as launching oneself, on the couch, taking place next to him, before asking.

-Who’s taking care of them?

-Gosha.

-Erhg, the boy grunted, rolling his eyes, much to Viktor's amusement. It was true that Yuri didn’t have much of an appreciation for dramatic people, or, what he, himself, deemed dramatic, and it was a well known fact that Georgi fell right into that category, pushing it to the extreme. Add that to the fact that the two figure skaters were technically rivals and that Yuri was very, very competitive, and the common outsider would, very certainly, assume that the boy hated his senior, or at the least, was annoyed to no end by him. Which wasn’t completely untrue, the youngest had voiced his irritation towards Georgi more than once, everytime he was given an opportunity, really, making sure it was loud and clear everytime. But, Viktor knew, he was far from hating him. If the silver haired man had to label their relationship, or describe how they acted towards each other, he would say Georgi was like Yuri and Alexei’s very strange uncle, with whom they spent a good part of their time, and who would embarrass them, sometimes without meaning to, sometimes completely doing it on purpose. It was great to witness.

Yuuri, who had still been browsing the restaurants, spoke out, taking advantage of the fact that everyone was nearby and in his field of view, Alexei having just stepped out of the bedroom he and his brother would share for the night, on his way to the now free bathroom, his used towel hanging from his arm.

-How about we go out instead of ordering? he asked. All looked at eachother, before acquiescing.

-That does sound like a great idea, Viktor answered, leaning towards his fiancee to lay his head on his shoulder, but not prior to kissing the smooth skin of his cheek lovingly. Yuri and Alexei, on their part, simultaneously nodded, before the blond retorted, eyebrow raised.

-But we’re already changed, and I don’t particularly feel like putting on jeans again.

-You can just, go in your pajamas, Yuuri proposed, earning himself a thoughtful, almost concentrated look from the youngest twin, and the closest thing to a contemplative expression that he could get from the eldest. Again, they nodded in perfect sync.

-Yeah, it’s not like I care, Yuri announced confidently, crossing his arms over his white, old, faded, tiger t-shirt.

And that’s how, after Yuuri had finally found a good place to eat, the little group walked out of their hotel suit, the two youngests of the four, in their sleepwears, Yuri having accessorised the outfit with his favorite leopard print jacket, while Alexei’s shirt was hidden by his own, almost everyday worn hoodie, an image of a cow displayed almost proudly on the front.

The day was sunny, the lightest wind brushing Viktor’s hair and skin, a pleasant sensation to have with the surprisingly hot temperature outside. Winter had truly ended, it looked like, letting its place to a new spring, a new life cycle on Earth.

In front of him, Nikolai’s casket was getting ready to be lowered into the ground, the grave hole deep and dark in the ground. To his left, the twins were keeping silent, the same they had been since that very morning.

Organising the burial, and even, compromising with the funeral home to have it go his way, had been a whole, messy ordeal. Financial, legal, ethical, timing issues were all thrown on top of each other, one after the other, keeping Viktor awake more than it should have, obligating Yuuri to take away his computer when he would send email too late in the night. Feodora had not been willing to cooperate, the government had been taking its sweet time to take the necessary decisions, the funeral home’s demands were unclear and confusing. In conclusion, it had been one hell of a week and five days. Viktor was just glad he wouldn’t, well, he hoped so, have to ever deal with something like it, ever again.

But now, it was all coming to an end. And he was feeling the tears rise inside his gut, inside his throat, approaching his eyes with dangerous speed. After all, Nikolai had been more of a parental figure to him than his actual father had ever tried to act as. His own mourning hadn’t been his priority this whole time, and it still wasn’t, but he couldn’t help the pain in his chest. And if there was one appropriate moment to let it finally go, it probably was during the deceased’s burial.

Didn’t mean he was letting himself crumble to the ground and whail his voice away. His grieving had been completed some time before, he assumed, this was just his final goodbye, an unhappy event, but nothing so hard on his heart and spirit he couldn’t keep himself up. And, most importantly, the twins needed his support.

Viktor was no psychological expert, of course. Only a few years ago, he hadn’t even been able to recognise how much he had needed help, and even now, he often found himself struggling with noticing when he needed to take a break. In short, the man was barely knowledgeable of his own mental health, so it was understandable for him to be far from being the most trustful person when it came to the twins’.

Even so, he could at least guess that Yuri and Alexei weren’t that far from arriving at the finish line of their grieving journey, so to speak. He had read a few articles, some saying the process of mourning was made in five steps, others, in seven, and he even read one describing eleven of them. Either way, they all followed approximately the same path, going from shock, to anger, to depression, to acceptance. Considering everything that had gone on for the last few weeks, and how the kids had acted these previous days, Viktor would say they were swaying between the acceptance phase, and the depression one. The two of them had gone on, back and forth between the two stages, talking and living and doing everything they did the same way they had always done, before falling into silence, locking themselves in their room, and avoiding eye contact. It came and went in waves, without a clear schedule or triggers. Viktor could say, though, that improvement was being steadily made, each passing day bringing less and less of the slowdowns, and more and more of the usual attitude that filled the silver haired man’s heart with warmthful joy.

The men in charge began elevating the casket, slowly, steadily, making their way to the hole in the dirt. Viktor watched without a word, before he heard the faintest, most quiet sound.

-Vitya.

Turning, he saw the twins still standing next to him, the exact way they had the last he had checked on them, eyes glued on the wooden funeral box, filled to the brim with sadness. He knew, however, that the one who had called out for him had been Alexei, ears trained over many years to decipher the voices of the two kids. And, to be honest, Yuri and Alexei’s voices were just as different as their physical appearances. Softly, he answered, only having an afterthought about the fact that the eldest had spoken first, without being prompted.

-Yes, Lyoshenka?

-Can we… Can we go say goodbye? One last time. He murmured the last part, looking down, voice, oh, so full of emotions. Every single one of Viktor’s instincts were screaming at him to take the boy and his brother in his arms, to lock them up inside his old bedroom, now theirs, and to wrap them up with blankets until they couldn’t be hurt by the world and its worries anymore.

-Of course, he replied instead. The men handling the casket seemed to get the message quickly enough, setting the case on the ground with experienced movements, before stepping aside to give them all the space they could possibly need. Viktor was sure, they had seen it all, and knew exactly what to do in any given situation they might encounter. Interrupting the burial, in comparison to some of the wildest stories he had heard over the years, was tamed and pretty normal.

At a steady pace, not too fast and not too slow, Yuri and Alexei walked up to the casket in which their grandpa would be resting for ever after, hands locked together between them. They crouched down in unison, the older’s knees steady on the ground, while the other boy kept his balance on his toes. They set their free hand on the wood, steady, assured, before calling out, their voice in sync due to their twins powers, Viktor had to assume.

-Goodbye grandpa. We hope you rest well until we come to join you.

And they got up, fingers lingering onto the surface until they weren’t, and the men went back to work, the casket finally making its way into the ground. Without a word, they began burying it, shovelful after shovelful.

The little group stayed silent until the very end, when the grave mound was completely formed, and the metal plate was placed on it, delicately, carefully. Nikolai Anatolyevich Plisetsky, 1938-2015, it read.

The working men walked away, while the four of them kept in place, the two adults waiting for any kind of signals the twins may give them. It didn’t come for a minute, before both kids held up their hand to wave at the grave, prior to starting to make their way out of the cemetery, hand still holding the other one’s. Swiftly following them, Viktor and Yuuri interlocked their fingers as well. If Viktor had to guess, the two duo were doing the same action, for the same reason.

To tell eachother, make sure the other knew everything would go without a problem. And if there ever was an obstacle, if there ever were some bad, difficult times, they would be there to take care of eachother, no matter what. That was a promise.

-I’m home! Yuuri’s voice made itself heard throughout the house, the Japanese words loud enough for everyone to hear it. Viktor, who had been scrolling mindlessly on his phone, practically ran to the front door, to wrap his fiancee in his arms as the man tried to settle down the reutilizable bag he was holding on the tile floor of the entrance. They had been running out of ingredients for dinner that evening, so he had made a quick run to the local grocery store, somehow managing to convince Viktor to stay at home while he did so.

-Welcome, was heard two times simultaneously, the, also Japanese, greeting coming from the twins, who were busy pushing buttons and frantically shaking remotes in front of their video game. The two boys had also wished to come along for grocery shopping, only begrudgingly staying with the silver haired man.

-Welcome back, Viktor repeated, lips brushing against his lover’s skin as he held him tight. Hugging him back, Yuuri asked, humor laced with his words.

-I missed you too, during the twenty minutes I was away, but now I need to take off my shoes and start doing some laundry before we have to start making dinner.

-I already did the laundry, so we can cuddle and relax, he replied, beaming.

Smiling, Yuuri thanked him for his help, wordlessly accepting Viktor’s proposal by sitting on the couch, in front of the screen, where two non-human creatures noisefully rode their bikes, racing each other on a rainbow road in the middle of space. The silver haired man gracefully joined him, falling onto the cushions with a sigh, leaving no space between him and the love of his life. On the floor, Yuri and Alexei finished their race, immediately starting a new cup. Yuri had won that one, and neither had ever accepted defeat that easily. Even if this would be the seventh cup the kids played that day.

Life, to say it simply, was great.

It was not back to normal, or, to be more accurate, to what it had been before, and Viktor knew it would not do so, no matter how hard they all wished. Nikolai was gone, sadly. He had grieved. The kids had grieved, and he suspected that they would never fully go over it. Him neither, if he was being honest.

However, they had found a new normal. They had bought a house, somehow managed to get custody of the twins, placed together a new routine. Together, as a family, they had built a new path. One for Yuri and Alexei to start following after their previous one was cut short, and one for Yuuri and Viktor to jump on, choosing what was right over what was easy.

Viktor could go all day, spilling out always different metaphorical descriptions of the shift they had gone through and were still all getting accustomed to. Even so, he always went back to the same one, a simple sentence that had stuck with him.

It was the beginning of a new book, in the long series of their lives.