Chapter Text
Yuri rested his crutches against the railing overlooking the Moskva river, leaning on his good leg. He sighed wondering why he needed this so badly but didn’t feel the usual anxiety or fear that plagued him when they usually met. He had nothing else to lose.
When Pyotr finally arrived, leaning against the railing with him, Yuri didn’t flinch. But Pyotr did when he saw Yuri’s leg and bruises.
“The people you owe money to did this to me,” Yuri said, still looking out to the river. “Did you know this was going to happen?”
“I-” Pyotr’s eyes were sleepless and plagued with nightmares. He couldn’t spin a lie fast enough. He looked wild and his facial hair had overgrown in patches like he couldn’t bother to clean himself up. The men got to Yuri first, Pyotr knew this when they made their threats, and Pyotr waited for his turn but they never came to collect. He wondered if something happened to them.
“During any of this, did you even start to care? About me? Or my ‘world’ as you put it? Did you know that I need both of my legs to win that money you needed?” Yuri seethed, spitting venom as he managed to keep his voice low. “This,” he gestured to his leg. “Should have been you.”
Whether it was guilt or something else, Pyotr’s heart hardened in defense. His plan failed and with Yuri’s injury, there was no way of talking himself out of this one. It was time to throw it all away.
"Here,” Pyotr shoved into Yuri’s hands the picture he had in his wallet. "I stole that from your deda when you went out running once. You can have that shit back."
Yuri recognized it. He thought it was Pyotr's keepsake but it was his tool to manipulate Yuri. He was amazed the man’s selfishness could keep surprising him. He gave a small laugh in disbelief. This wasn’t how he’d thought a final goodbye would go.
"You're a monster."
"I'm the monster? I'm not running around in a skimpy outfit with sequins and flowers, pretending to be a man. I have been, for months , trying to be a good father to my son who parades around like a damn fairy. Those men did this to you because of what you are. Because you couldn’t help me ."
"Listen to yourself! Those men did this to me because of you ! Do you honestly believe you were 'trying to be a good father' when your desperation for money cost me my dreams?!"
"If it wasn’t for your damned deda and that stupid f--"
"Keep them out of this! All you've done was beat me down until I started to believe what I wanted was to be good enough for you to stay. But now I know it was all just a part of some stupid gamble and the truth is you left because you weren’t good enough for me . Fuck you. I'm done pretending."
He ripped the photo.
Pyotr was shocked, genuinely this time. Hearing his plans laid out in front of him aloud made him realize how wrong this all ended up. And the insecurities he had instilled into Yuri completely vanished. When did this boy become so strong? "Yuri, I… I made mistakes. I hadn’t learned a single thing. But with you, I feel like I could. Please, let me try again. We share a bond. Blood! You know the saying."
Yuri wordlessly pulled out the ring he bought months ago and held it in Pyotr's line of sight. He watched Pyotr nearly drool over it.
"Choose then." He held his fist over the bridge over the dark depths of the river. “Me or the money?”
Pyotr didn’t say a word and the silence was far too long; it spoke volumes. Yuri sighed and opened his fist.
“NO!” Pyotr grasped him by the collar, his knuckles white and hot. Yuri would have stumbled on his bad leg if Pyotr wasn’t holding him up, but Yuri smirked anyways.
Pyotr was completely stunned when the object didn’t fall. His greed blinded him in believing it was in that hand. He let go of Yuri and like a magician, Yuri revealed the ring in his other hand.
"The only thing thicker than water is your damn skull. Get a grip, Pyotr ‘ Plisetsky .’ I will no longer let your feelings manipulate me. If you want this fucking ring, go get it and drown ," Yuri spat and he tossed the ring into the river.
Hot fury burned inside Pyotr, he heard half those words before. Desperation, humiliation, and loss ate him from the inside out. The hatred radiated off his face. It was obvious. He screamed, "You son of a--"
"--A bitch ?" Yuri interrupted, scowling albeit triumphantly. He gave Pyotr a final glance from head to toe. "Yeah."
Yuri turned to grab his crutches and limped toward a car waiting nearby for him. Viktor rolled down the window and waved flirtatiously to Pyotr whose expression was both defeated and angry.
As they drove off, Yuri stayed silent, looking out of the window. For the first time in a long time, his mind was completely blank. They arrived at Nikolai’s where Yuri had moved back after pulling out of the competition. He had no choice but to rely on physical therapy to return stronger than ever. The doctors and therapists said his leg wasn't likely to return to normal, but it was possible for Yuri to get back onto the ice without problems if he learned to adjust for it. He had Yakov and Lilia, Viktor and Yuuri, his grandfather and Otabek, and so many more people to help him.
Viktor assisted him out of the car. “Are you okay?”
Yuri pursed his lips and thought honestly. His grandfather came out of the house to greet them. “No,” he looked up at Viktor with eyes that mirrored his age for once.
“But I will be.”