the storm can't grind the mountain down, it can only shift the stones
He was just so angry.
His tears, the gut wrenching sobs, they weren’t something that he had any control over.
No, this was deep, helpless, furious.
Leo listened to the cheers of the stadium that came through more like TV static than people screaming his name, celebrating a program successfully completed. If they dared call it that. He just tanked this event and he had to stand here and bow. He had to pretend he hadn’t left his heart on the ice after he botched his jump. It had been perfect in warm-up. But of course he couldn’t stick it when it actually mattered.
He didn’t want to skate off the ice, to face the kiss and cry. But he could see his coach waiting for him. He took one final moment to steel himself before skating towards her - cheers still echoing around him.
“Save it.” Leo’s voice came out clipped. He took his coat from Elsie with a shaking hand.
Fans from the front row smiled and waved in his direction. He wore a smile plastered to his face. He gave them a small wave as he stepped off the ice, breathing hard.
He glanced up at his coach. Warm pants, USA coat with a sweater underneath, micro braids pulled into a messy bun, eyes narrowed. The quiet look of soft worry written across her face made his stomach twist. “Don’t look at me like that. I know we need to talk. But I don't want to hear it right now. Please.”
“Okay. Later then.” Elsie handed him a towel, and Leo silently wiped the blades of his skate clean before clipping his yellow and orange guards into place. He handed the towel back to her and she offered a small smile. “Are you ready for the kiss and cry?”
“As I’ll ever be.” She nodded, gesturing for him to walk ahead. She pressed a hand to his shoulder as she fell into step behind him, squeezed for just a second before letting go.
Elsie understood there wasn’t anything to be said. Leo just went through a tough performance. She was sure he already had a bruise forming on his hip to prove it. Sometimes there were no words of comfort she could offer. A steady and supportive presence just had to be enough.
“Leo! Leo!!! Over here!!!” A small voice called from the stands and he stopped dead in his tracks. He didn’t want praise or admiration. He just wanted to go crawl in a hole, never to move again. But his disappointment wasn’t his fans' responsibility.
He took a deep breath, in for four, held four four, out for four. He said a silent prayer to the ceiling before turning to the stand and smiling at the little boy still calling his name. He was small, waving with one hand and holding a flower crown in the other.
Leo’s smile turned genuine at the sight. The crown looked carefully crafted, the boy that held it for him couldn’t have been more than 9. Amber eyes bright. Blond hair cut short. Freckle lined nose. Missing two canines.
“Well hello there.” Leo stepped up to the bleachers and pointed to the crown. “Did you make this?” He half shouted to be heard over the sound of the stadium. His eyes widened as Leo pressed closer, getting as close as he could.
“H-hi! Um- yes, my mom helped me make it. It’s for you.”
“For me? Wow, thank you.” Leo smiled again, leaning forward to let the boy place it gently on his head. “Dahlias, golden poppies, daisies, sunflowers, and baby’s breath? All my favorites. You must be a big fan.”
The man standing behind the boy smiled back at Leo. “He’s been wanting to come and see you skate since he was 4, isn’t that right, bub?”
The little boy nodded and Leo bit back his urge to say I’m sorry it wasn’t a better performance . He finally made it to a show just to see Leo pop his quad Toe Loop, fall when he landed his triple Axel, mistime his step out from his layback spin. At least his delayed Axel was flawless…
Instead, Leo adjusted the crown, making it sit more evenly. “I’m so glad you got to be here. It’s awesome that you got to come to Skate Canada! What’s your name?”
“It’s great to meet you, Mylo. Listen, I’ve got to go or I’m going to be late for my own score, which would just be embarrassing, But does your Dad have a phone? We could do a really quick selfie, if you want. Then you can show your mom that I got your present.”
“ PLEASE DAD!” Leo thought he was going to rip the older man’s hand out of his socket, the way he grabbed on and pulled.
Sorry . He mouthed the words with a small grimace as the father pulled a phone from his back pocket. “May I?”
Leo took the phone, holding it up and snapping several photos with Mylo, and a few with his father too, before handing it back. “ Thank you so much for this, Mylo. It means so much to me.” Leo blinked, tried to make the stinging in his eyes lessen. “I’m going to keep it forever. Bye now.” He waved, and then turned to catch up to Elsie.
Leo half smiled. “The biggest.”
He stepped into the kiss and cry - preparing himself to fall to 6th place.
Elsie offered to answer some of the reporter's questions just to give Leo the chance to make a clean break. He was eternally grateful to that woman. He made it through the moment in the kiss and cry with a dead eye smile. Listened as the announcer called his Free Skate score like it was something to be proud of. He stood tall and walked calmly to the locker room - his safe space . Out of the eyes of the public for the first time all night.
He pulled the flower crown off before he had even crossed the threshold, staring at it as he pushed open the door. He set it gently on his skate bag, taking a shaking breath.
The door swung shut behind him, the soft click the only sound in the empty room.
Leo’s scream was matched in volume only by the sound of his water bottle shattering against the wall. Plastic breaking apart from the force he had thrown it with. Water splashed across the tile and it was the least of his concerns.
He had fucked up. Once again placed at the bottom of the pack because of a few missteps. Perfect for weeks in practice. Perfect in warm up. And none of it mattered when it counted. There were too many technical elements missed and his score tanked because of it. 2013 Juniors NHK Trophy. 2016 Cup of China. 2017 Internationaux de France. 2018 Grand Prix Final. 2019 Rostelecom Cup. They were stacking up. All through Juniors and now here in the Seniors - when it actually mattered.
“Shit!” He slammed a fist against the lockers. “Shit shit shit DAMN IT! ”
It was like the words were being ripped out of him.
He was just so angry . His tears, the gut wrenching sobs, they weren’t something that he had any control over.
No, this was deep, helpless, furious .
Leo pressed his forehead against the cool metal of the lockers, fists clenched at his sides as he sobbed . He didn’t know how long he stood there. How long he tried to school his breathing into something somewhat resembling even when he heard the door open behind him. There was no use. He didn’t even care anymore.
Every good skater had been where he was right now. If they wanted to judge him for needing a moment to himself, it said more about them than him.
“That was hard to watch. I’m sorry it happened.” The cool, aloof voice of Viktor Nikiforov hit his ears and Leo’s eyes snapped open. “I would have personally given you a higher PCS. The judges are going to hate me when I finally weasel my way onto the board.” He tossed Leo a wink, but his smile didn't reach his eyes. “I’ve been where you are now. I don’t need to tell you there’s nothing I can say that will make you feel better.”
Leo sniffled hard, scrubbed the tears off his cheeks, and nodded at the Russian legend. All the people that could walk through the door - of course it was him .
“I have given everything to this sport,” his voice was raw as it left his throat. “I’ve landed those jumps flawlessly for weeks . I’ve lost sleep, lost weight , gave up free time and - and fucking family trips just to be prepared for today and it didn’t matter . I still messed up.”
Viktor took a seat on the bench nearest Leo, nodding slowly. “It’s awful when you do everything right and still mess up the performance. There’s little in this world that leaves you feeling so terrible.”
Leo bit back another sob, pressed his back against the lockers and sank to the floor. He pressed his face into his hands and forced himself to breathe so that he wouldn’t scream again. “All I can think about when this happens is that maybe everyone is right . Maybe I should just quit now while I have a shred of dignity left.”
“Dignity isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, Leo.” The older man slid down the bench, extending his poodle shaped tissue holder.
Leo wrapped his finger around the plush fur, pulling it tight to his chest. He pulled a couple tissues out and blew his nose. “Thanks.”
“So you had a bad night.” Viktor met his gaze. “What are you going to do about it?”
Leo blinked, looking up into bright blue eyes. “I…” His voice caught in his throat.
This was Viktor Nikiforov , sitting on a bench in a locker room and listening to him sob like a heartbroken fool. He should say how he’s going to brush it off, go back out there and keep doing what he loves. How he’s going to live to generally fight another day. He should earn the respect of the man he’s idolized for so long . But Leo couldn’t make himself say any of those things.
Maybe it was how he was raised. To be true to himself no matter the cost. But as he stared at the man he’s looked up to for so many years he found he wanted to bare his soul.
He took a deep breath, shoulders shaking. “I don’t know . I’m so tired of never being enough. I’m just so tired .”
Viktor nodded, platinum fringe falling into his eyes. “It’s not the type of tiredness that sleep can fix.”
Leo swallowed hard, sobs finally subsiding. “So, what am I supposed to do?”
“I would start by replacing your water bottle. Perhaps with a metal on.” The joke hung in the air - on a good day Leo would have laughed. But today he just stared. “There is no definite way to fix how you are feeling right now.” Viktor’s voice was low, shaking with something that Leo couldn’t quite place. “I had never seen someone skate as if it was the answer to all of their prayers until you, Leo.”
Tears slipped out of the corners of his eyes. Silent, shocked, the ones that were usually reserved for Ota and Jage.
Viktor smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. “When I was at my lowest, I took a season off and rebuilt Yuuri Katsuki from the ground up.” He reached forward, plucking a tissue from the poodle’s back. “I was lucky - helping him… It healed something in me that had been broken for a very long time. And when I came back I could finally enjoy the sport for the first time since I was 16.” He pressed the tissue to the corner of his eye. “I don’t believe there is anything that I can say to you that will make this better for you. So I’ll tell you this - you skate like the ice is the other half of your soul.”
He paused when Leo gasped, hand coming up to cover his mouth. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing…couldn’t pull his eyes away from Viktor.
“Even with a flubbed triple Axel and a popped quad Toe Loop, what you did out there tonight was inspirational. There are competitors that see your name on the roster and panic because you’re you . You can trust me, I’m married to one of them. Competition is not always our friend.” He smiled again, long arm reaching forward and picking up the flower crown Leo had cast aside. He set it gently against his head, pressing it firmly into place. “Just try to remember that the worst thing we can do to ourselves is believe that our true value as a skater comes from a number.”
Yuuri scrolled silently through TikTok while Viktor worked long fingers through his hair. Each audio bite cut short as he lingered for a few seconds and then kept working through the feed. He wasn’t looking for anything specific, just taking in the general carnage an international competition produced online. Praise here. Shots fired there. Fan edits of programs to music that was not used in the live performances. The usual.
He was careful to avoid his own name in the tags. Last night wasn’t the worst program of his career, not by a long shot. But he wasn’t happy with how it went and he was prone to taking stranger’s opinions too close to heart. It has taken a lot of practice and discipline, but he was finally learning to avoid the parts of the internet that could trigger him. Like #YuuriKatsuki ? He no longer followed it
And, yeah, there was a chance that he’d see something while scrolling through #LeodelaIglesia and #LeooftheChurch that might bother him. But the chances of that were low. People didn’t often discuss him and Leo in the same posts. He had to dig deep for them, something he had learned from experience on one of his darkest days.
But then he landed on one that caught his attention.
It was a repost - a screen recording of a post skate interview from last night. The video quality was low but the subtitles were clear, added in post for accessibility.
Leo. Hair released from the bun it was styled in for his Free Skate, carefully crafted flower crown resetting on his head. He was still in his costume, black pants and a deep orange shirt shot through with yellows and pinks. It made Yuuri think of a sunset.
His black USA jacket obscured some of the colors, and the lack of a medal around his neck was glaringly obvious. His eyes were bright and even on the small screen it was obvious he had been crying. Puffy, bloodshot eyes, dark circles, ears and nose red from more than just the cold. Yuuri frowned, he could feel for the guy. He’d been there on countless occasions…
But despite the signs of previously shed tears he stood tall, calmly faced a reporter that didn’t bother to hide the bite in their question. “How are you feeling about placing sixth again, Mr. Iglesia?”
Yuuri’s thumb hovered over the screen, ready to scroll as his chest tightened under the weight of that question. He hesitated, watching expecting a forced smile and a sharp pivot to the standard pre-approved PR statement.
Leo’s smile was tired but certain. “Disappointed.” His voice was steady and Yuuri gasped softly. “But these things happen. The worst thing I can do right now is believe that my true value as a skater comes from a number.”
The video looped. Leo sounds grounded, the flower crown frames him in warmth and yellow petals. Yuuri’s thumb clicked the comments.
SushiRush: Honestly??????? KING BEHAVIOR!!!!! 👑
-Replies- ❤️ 6.2k 👎
LuigiCore: We love to see a man that knows his worth!!!
-Replies- ❤️ 303 👎
CrazyScarySpooky: Are you kidding? “Disappointed”? ☝️🥸 I think you meant “Disappointed but not surprised”
SpotDot: omg imagine leaving this comment and thinking that ANYONE was going to support you.
SkatingRotating: 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 MY BOY
Yuuri looked up, catching Viktor’s reflection in the mirror — standing a few feet back, fingers still working idly on braiding Yuuri’s hair for the exhibition skate tonight. Their eyes met in the glass.
“Did you see this video of Leo that’s trending this morning?” Yuuri’s voice was low.
“I did.” Viktor tied off Yuri’s braid, using a couple bobby pins to keep it in place. He tucked his own hair behind his ear as he smiled. “He is a well-spoken and talented young man. I am eager to see what he does tonight.”
“Vitya?” Yurri’s voice dropped even lower.
VIktor leaned close, wrapping his arms around him, keeping their eyes locked in the mirror. “Yes, my love?”
Yuuri leaned into him, shoulders pressed to chest. “Does that interview have anything to do with you telling me not to follow you into the locker room last night?”
Viktor grinned, soft and heart shaped and unapologetic. “What else was I supposed to do? He deserved to have his breakdown in peace, Yuuri~” It never got old, the way Viktor said his name like it was a song.
Yuuri turned to look up at Viktor, unable to stop his own grin. “Exactly how many skater’s careers are you planning to save, Vitya?”
“Hmmm…” Viktor feigned consideration. “I don’t know. However many it takes to keep the sport interesting, I suppose.”
“That doesn’t sound as altruistic as you think it does, Viktor.”
“Does it not?” Blue eyes blinked down at him.
“No. We’ll have to practice for when people start questioning you about what you said to Leo last night. You might be the most selfish man I’ve ever met but the world doesn’t need to know that.” He squeezed Viktor’s wrist. “Come on, swap places with me. I’ll braid your hair. And we can practice what to say while we do.”
Viktor whined. “You think I'm selfish?”
“Do you dare deny it?” Yuuri pressed a soft kiss to his husband’s lips. “Come on, budge. We have to get your hair ready and you know it’s going to take about three hours to get it to lay the way you want it to.”
Viktor slowly pulled his arms off Yuuri, allowing the man to stand. He set his phone on the table, face down and locked. Viktor took a seat and relaxed the moment Yuuri ran his fingers through his hair. “Vitya?”
“What else did you tell him?”
Viktor opened his eyes, tipped his head back to look up at him. “The truth.”
“That he is an inspiration.”
----------------------------------------------------
Howdy! 👋🏻 If you made it this far, thank you for reading!
I wrote this today after being inspired while listening to Stained Glass by Danny Schmidt.
It's a beautiful song that has often made me think of Leo - today for whatever reason- I decided to do something about that. He's such a gentle soul and I don't know - a break down in the locker room, a rare moment of "I can't do this anymore" just seemed so...honest. ☀️🦁 He's just such a beacon of light it makes me wonder what happens behind closed doors.
So of course Viktor finds him and says exactly what he needs to hear - the words that once may have saved little Viktor. 🥺😭
Someday I may go back into this and give it the God-tier prose that I think it deserves. But for now this is enough.
I miss this show. I miss this fandom. I miss how real the characters felt when I was younger and Yuuri Katsuki made me feel less alone.
I hope I've done them justice. I hope I continue to do so.
I hope you like what you read. Regardless of your enjoyment, I hope the world is kind to you. 💟
Yuri on ICE tumblr is skating-rotating!. Feel free to stop by if you want to chat about a fandom that is slowly fading.
Thanks, as always, if you decided to use your precious time on Earth to read my words. It means more to me than you know. ♥️
Martininini ⛸️🖖🏻✨
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