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Chapter Text

‘Дедуля... I have always loved you. I have always looked up to you.’

Yuri Plisetsky looked up to his grandpa. He never looked up to his mum or dad. His mum was always working, until she retired in an early age, but she was still quite absent after the retirement. And his dad was, well, almost totally absent. Even more absent than his, way too, absent mother.

The only one who really seemed to care about Yuri was his grandpa, his dedulya, his dedushka, Nikolai Plisetsky. His dedushka was always there, always supportive, always encouraging. Nikolai cooked food for Yuri, he walked with Yuri to the school, he drove Yuri to his skate trainings and competitions, and, if he had the chance, he also stayed to look at Yuri's trainings and competitions. Basically, he was always there.

Yuri didn’t know how to thank his dedulya enough for everything he had given him, but a first step was to dedicate a skating program to him.

When Viktor had chosen Yuri to perform the Agape program he thought Viktor had gone bananas.

How could he, the “Russian Punk”, the “Ice Tiger of Russia”, the God damned only soldier on that frickin’ ice(!), skate something that was about selfless love?

He had been quite naïve about that though. Even he had agape in him. For his dedulya he felt this selfless, unconditional love. He would always love his dedulya, and his dedulya would always love him, and they would always do things to and for one another.

If Yuri was sick, Nikolai would come home to Yuri with things he needed, and Yuri would do the same for Nikolai. And also, Nikolai would take care of Yuri’s cat, Петя, when Yuri went on competitions.

When skating his Agape program, Yuri tried to think of his dedulya, as much as possible, because the program was dedicated to him. Even though it was Viktor who had created the program, Yuri was the one skating the program, the one who made it his own, and the one who could choose to do whatever he wanted with it, so therefore he thought of it as a dedication to his dear dedulya.

He had wondered for a while what the song was about. It was in Latin, and he didn’t know any Latin. But one day at the rink, when he complained about how annoying it was, annoying that he didn’t know what the song was about, Mila told him that Georgi knew some Latin. Yuri gave Mila the evil eye, but, anyway, he did ask Georgi for help later on. Though he thought it might’ve been a trick by Mila and Georgi, he also thought it was worth a shot. And it turned out that Georgi’s translation seemed to make sense.

From there on, he knew exactly what he dedicated to his dedulya.

The song was clearly of a religious theme, but he chose to let the song to be about his dedushka instead.

He stood on the ice, eyes closed, head tilted slightly forward, and the music started.

He lifted an arm into the air, letting it down again to caress his face when he spun around. He bent his body slightly forward, letting his arms shift rearwards to give more force to when he moved them forward in a praying gesture. He floated backwards, gesturing how he gave his soul to the one he prayed for.

Sic mea vita est temporaria, cupit ardenter caritatem aeternam.
Since my life is temporary, I strongly desire eternal agape.

‘Дедуля, I will always love you.’

He made his first jump, flew over the ice, and then kneeled, before going into a sitting spin.

Credam, dabo, sperabo, honorabo, laborabo, gratias agam!
I believe, I give, I hope, I honour, I strive, I grace!

‘Дедуля, I want to give you all of my agape.’

He went up to a doughnut spin.

Et denique aperiens fores occultas, nobis grandis et clara, nosque curabit.
And finally the doors hiding you opens, we are strong and bright, we will be healed.

‘Дедуля, I am sorry that I, at first, did not realize that you are my agape.’

He caressed his face again, first with both hands, as if he was trying to hide, then with just one hand, as if he felt embarrassed. He turned around, showing a gallant posture. He took some tiptoeing steps before gliding across the ice again, showing his beauty by drawing his hand over his hair, his neck, his chest, he went into another jump.

Magna magna, caritas. Magna magna, caritas.
The great, great agape. The great, great agape.

‘Дедуля, you are my agape.’

He floated backwards across the ice in another praying gesture. Then he spun around and made his third jump, showing the gallant posture again.

Audio vocem tuam! Adest mi libertas!
I hear your voice! Set me free!

‘Дедуля, thank you for everything you have done for me.’

He trotted a few steps and made sliding pirouettes across the rink.

Mea vita amabit, caritatis pacem
I love my life, of peaceful agape.

‘Дедуля, without you, I would have been nothing.’

He kneeled again for a sitting spin, getting up into a camel spin, then a doughnut spin, raising an arm, down to a sitting spin again, and finally he could decelerate the spins, come to rest, clasp his hands and raise them in a prayer for his dedulya.

Hanc felicitatem aeternam esse oro.
Give me this eternal happiness.

‘Дедуля, my memories of you will always stay with me.’

“Дедуля... I have always looked up to you, I love you.”

“I love you too, Юрочка, I will always do.”

Chapter Text

”Yurio…”

”Huh!? What!?”

Oh no. He had said ’Yurio’, again.

Even though they had the same name, ‘Yurio’ was now stuck in Yūri’s head when referring to his namesake.

Yurio-, no, Yuri, didn’t seem to notice it, this time. Good. Yūri didn’t want to be called ‘katsudon’ or ‘stupid’ or something. It was good that Yuri Plisetsky didn’t notice. Or maybe he did notice, but he was too tired or irritated to even bother.

It was one thing that Viktor said ‘Yurio’, Viktor could be a bit nonchalant about these kinds of things, but Yūri would never… Well, he already had. Damn it. It’s not nice to call a person something they don’t like. But then again, Yuri called Yūri ‘katsudon’, soo… No, it’s still not nice.

The first time they had met, Yuri had yelled straight in his face.

‘We don’t need two Yuris on the same bracket. Incompetents like you should just retire already. Moron!’

Katsuki Yūri was bolder now. He had understood that Yuri Plisetsky was kind of immature in a way. After all, he was only 15. And he hadn’t any eros in him, even though he thought that he had. Yūri had started to understand eros, just a little, being a late bloomer on that point, while Yuri Plisetsky actually had no idea about what it actually meant. And the biggest difference was that Katsuki Yūri admitted that he didn’t know what eros was, while Yuri Plisetsky didn’t admit it, or even understand that he didn’t know anything about it.

Even though Yūri didn’t know it at the time, Viktor had two reasons to give him, and not Yuri Plisetsky, the eros program. Yūri didn’t know yet that he had seduced Viktor at last year’s banquet. He also didn’t know that Viktor actually thought that Yuri Plisetsky was too young to skate the eros program. Not that his age really mattered, he would be old enough to legally have sex next year, or was it this year? Never mind, he was, or almost was, old enough, according to Russian laws. The thing was just that if Yuri Plisetsky had skated eros it would’ve been an immature version of eros, because that would be the only type of eros Yuri had in him, yet. Katsuki Yūri on the other hand, he had the mature eros in him, even though he himself didn’t know it, or, for that matter, didn’t acknowledge it, because of his low self-esteem.

Even so, Yuri Plisetsky was the first one of them to find the love, to find agape, while it took longer for Katsuki Yūri to find the love, to find eros.

When Yuri Plisetsky had found his agape, Katsuki Yūri saw what happened. Yuri Plisetsky grew, he matured, he evolved. That was when Katsuki Yūri started to see Yuri Plisetsky not only as a competitor, and an annoying, angry youngster, but as someone to look up to. Yuri Plisetsky didn’t just skate, anymore; he made the music, the ice dancing, and the agape, his own.

It was fascinating to watch Yuri Plisetsky skate the agape program. Every time Katsuki Yūri saw the other Yuri floating over the ice to the music, he knew that this other Yuri was someone to look up to. Never had Yūri managed to perform like that, not even when he had gone all the way to the last Grand Prix Final, well, except for that one time he became an Internet sensation, that time he had made a performance.

Yuri Plisetsky was young, and that was why Katsuki Yūri started to look up to him. Someone so young, being so talented. Just as Viktor; Viktor had been someone so young but, oh, so talented. Yūri had looked up to Viktor, it only made sense that he should look up to Yuri too. Actually, even though Yūri had skated for a very long time, there were several things he couldn’t do on the ice, especially in competition. His nerves, his self-esteem, his anxiety… He didn’t believe in himself. But he wanted to learn.

So maybe, just maybe, he could get help from someone, besides Viktor. Someone who he, in a way, idolized…

”Yurio…”

”Huh!? What!?”

”Sorry… Yuri… Please teach me how to land a quad Salchow.”

Chapter Text

Ever since he was a child he had looked up to Viktor Nikiforov. He wished to stand on the same ice as Viktor, one day. And he did, but it was a disaster. His dog Vicchan died just days before the competition, and he couldn’t concentrate on anything. He cried until he felt emotionless, and then he was emotionless until the sorrow hit him again and it felt like he would never stop crying. It was like that for days. After the competition, just after the medal ceremony, he went to the bathroom to cry again, and Yuri Plisetsky found him and yelled at him, making him even more miserable. And after that, when he was about to leave the arena, his idol, Viktor Nikiforov, asked if he wanted to take a commemorative photo, as if he was only a fan, not someone who had just competed against him. It felt humiliating.

Yuri Plisetsky had also looked up to Viktor since he was a child, which in fact wasn’t that long ago, being a teenager now. He was going up to senior level in the next season, and his idol, Viktor Nikiforov, had promised him to make a program for him. He couldn’t be more fortunate.

But then, at the banquet, Katsuki Yūri got drunk, and he wanted to challenge Yuri Plisetsky in a dance battle. Was it because he had screamed at the Japanese Yūri the other day? Maybe, but it didn’t matter, because he realised that he had to take the challenge anyway. Not only because he wanted to show that he, Yuri Plisetsky, the Russian Ice Tiger, had to defeat the fool Katsuki Yūri, but also because Viktor wanted to watch the whole thing. His idol, soon-to-be rival, wanted to see Katsuki Yūri defeated by him. Right? That must’ve been what he wanted. So Yuri Plisetsky accepted the challenge.

After that day, Yuri Plisetsky had noticed that Viktor had become different in some way. He was more annoying than ever, and he never even mentioned anything about Yuri’s gold medal in the junior Grand Prix. He had promised to create a program for Yuri’s debut in the senior division. What was wrong with him? Why didn’t he talk to him about it?

Katsuki Yūri was going to quit competitive skating, and he used his last three months in Detroit being stressed about his studies, and being depressed in general. He graduated, and started to work a little on his mental health by starting to skate again, and then he went home to Hasetsu, Saga, Japan.

Just a few days later he found Viktor Nikiforov, the actual Viktor Nikiforov, naked in his family’s onsen. What the actual…? And now Viktor wanted to be his coach, and, apparently, it had been Yūri who brought Viktor here, but Yūri didn’t feel like he had brought Viktor there, more like he had lured him there. And then, just a couple of days after that, Yuri Plisetsky was also in the onsen. What was happening? Why was this happening?

Yuri Plisetsky was angry, no, he was furious. Viktor had ignored him. Viktor had forgotten his promise, and then he had gone to Japan to coach someone else! Unacceptable!

‘Глупый Виктор.’
‘Glupyy Viktor.’
‘Stupid Viktor.’

Viktor Nikiforov was no longer Yuri’s idol.

But he had become Yuri’s friend.

Time went by. Yuri Plisetsky had gotten a program choreographed by Viktor, and so had Katsuki Yūri. Plisetsky had gone home to Russia, and Viktor stayed with Katsuki Yūri to be his coach. Yūri’s idol had become his coach. He couldn’t be more fortunate.

Then, one day, when they had been training, Viktor was tired, but Yūri wanted to train for a bit longer. He needed to train for a bit longer, now that his pulse was up. But Viktor was tired. Wait… Viktor was tired? What? Yūri had seen Viktor as an idol, he had put him on a pedestal, he had almost thought of Viktor as a god, or at least some kind of demigod. How could Viktor be tired, whilst he himself only was a bit sweaty? This must be a dream, right? It couldn’t be true. Viktor was talking about how Yūri was younger than him, but Yūri didn’t really pay attention to what Viktor was saying; he was only paying attention to his own thoughts, about Viktor not being there for real, just being a dream.

‘Could it be…?’

Yūri poked the top of Viktor’s head.

“Is it getting that thin?”

No, that wasn’t what he had meant! Damn it Yūri, can’t even keep your fingers in control! Now he had to apologise to Viktor, and he could never, ever explain why he had poked Viktor’s head, that would be so embarrassing. Dammit. How would it sound to explain what he had actually done? “Sorry, I was just checking that you were not my imagination since you got tired whilst I wasn’t.” As if! He could never tell Viktor that!

From thereon, Yūri had realised that he didn’t see Viktor as a god, or demigod or whatever, but more as a friend, but still his idol though, until Viktor made him cry at the Cup of China.

When he had stopped crying, and was about to start his skate, he tricked Viktor to bend a bit forward over the rink rail so that he could see the top of Viktor’s head. He poked Viktor’s head, again.

‘I understand now Viktor, you’re just like anybody else.’

Then he patted Viktor’s head, and went out on the ice.

‘I feel a lot better after crying. Viktor’s expression when I started to cry was priceless. I’ve cried after a competition, but that’s the first time I cried before one.’

‘Victor is too inexperienced as a coach. It’s not like my anxieties started just now. He should’ve been prepared for that.’

‘ヴィクトル、バカ。’
‘Vikutoru, baka.’
‘Stupid Viktor.’

Viktor Nikiforov was no longer Yūri’s idol.

But he had become Yūri’s friend.