#w!oi

～～～

The ice crunches beneath Yuri’s skates as he cleanly lands a jump, promptly followed by another. The wind flows in his hair as he glides, and he can’t help his satisfied grin.

Victor is gone, out of town for the next couple of days for some sponsor-related thing. Yuri can’t remember the exact details, but it doesn’t involve him anyways, so why should he care? All he cares about is that he can finally get in some actual practice time. Most days, it’s impossible to focus with the endless flirting Victor and Yuuri get up to. Yuri is unspeakably relieved he won’t have to witness that, and he’s also pleased that Yuuri can have some time to focus on his own skating and up his skills too. Yuri wants him at his best when they compete. It wouldn't feel right winning, otherwise.

Now, without Victor around, there are no distractions. Or at least, that would be the case, if Yuri wasn’t so abruptly pulled from his thoughts by a sharp yelp that belongs to Yuuri. The dull thud of a body meeting the ice reaches Yuri’s ears (not for the first time today), and it's with a sense is superiority that he casts a glance over in that direction.

Yuuri lays on the ice, his back to the younger skater. After a long moment spent audibly breathing hard through gritted teeth, Yuuri manages to use an arm to push himself up so he’s sitting on his knees. The position he’s in makes it obvious that he hasn’t sprained his ankle or something stupid like that, which is a relief, since Yuri wouldn't want the hassle of having to carry him to the benches.

Slowly, (perhaps a bit too slowly, Yuri dares to think) Yuuri makes it to his feet, with the help of a hand on the ice to steady himself. Then, with a long and shaky exhale, he starts to skate again.

Yuri slows down his own skating, watching curiously as Yuuri struggles through what should be easy elements. His lips are pinched in a thin line, his eyebrows are drawn together. His step sequence is a far cry from its usual polished perfection. Yuri would make a snide comment about it, but the words die on his tongue as Yuuri makes for the boards where his water bottle is.

Yuuri has stamina that could outdo Yuri’s three times over, as much as he hates to admit it. To see him take a break is enough cause for concern, especially given the fall Yuri just witnessed. Even more alarming is the way his head is ducked down, his face twisted in an evident grimace.

“Katsudon?”

Yuuri either didn't hear him or is pretending like he didn't. He's too busy reaching for his water bottle, clenching it in a white-knuckled grip as he brings it to his lips and takes a drink. He sets the bottle down with a little more force than necessary. Then, after some carefully controlled breathsーand not a single word or glance to Yuriーhe pushes off from the rink wall and returns to the ice as if nothing happened.

Bullshit, nothing happened.

“Hey,” Yuri calls after him. He gets no response and scowls. As if he is going to let himself be brushed off by some dime-a-dozen skater who thinks he's all that because he won a silver medal at the Final. Did he forget who took gold?

Yuri pursues him, irritation increasing when Yuuri still seems set on refusing to acknowledge him. “Katsudon,” he calls again, not bothering to hide his annoyance. “Stop ignoring me, dammit!” He reaches for Yuuri's shoulder to turn him around. “What the hell is wrong with you today? You'reー”

Yuri doesn't know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn't Yuuri protectively cradling his arm to his body with tears in his eyes, breathing in a way that can only mean he’s desperately trying not to cry, go into a panic attack, be sick, or perhaps all three.

Yuri replays the earlier tumble in his mind. While Yuuri's legs may have been fine, he was definitely favouring one arm while pushing himself up off the ice. He must have injured his wrist breaking his fall.

“You're hurt,” Yuri pieces together.

“I'm fine,” Yuuri says, much too quickly. Obviously defensive and even more obviously a lie.

“Yeah, and I'm the queen of England. Come on, let me see it.”

He reaches for the injured hand, and Yuuri instantly recoils, holding his arm more protectively to his chest. “Don't touch it!”

“I'm not going to touch it, I just need to see,” Yuri snaps. “And if it's fine like you so claim it is, then there shouldn’t even be a problem in me touching it.”

After a tense moment, Yuuri reluctantly extends his arm out. “Sorry,” he mutters, eyes downcast. His teeth dig into his lower lip in a way that Yuri can tell means he’s trying hard not to make any noise of pain. “It hurts.”

“Should I callー”

“No!” Yuuri snaps his head up. “No, don’t call Victor. I’m fine.”

“Fine?” Yuri echoes back in disbelief. He gestures to the collection of bruises colouring the unnaturally swollen joint. “You call that fine?!”

“It’s… probably just a sprain.” Yuuri sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself than Yuri.

Yuri has seen his fair share of sprains. Hell, he’s received a couple on various parts of his own body. This… this looks like it might be a little worse than that. How could Yuuri even skate in this condition? Sure, you don’t necessarily need hands to skate, but his wrist must be causing him excruciating pain, especially if it is broken. Yuri would almost be impressed at Yuuri’s ability to push past the pain, if he didn’t already think him an idiot for risking further injury.

Yuri rolls his eyes. “C’mon.” He grabs Yuuri by his uninjured arm and starts pulling him towards the benches. “You’re in no condition to skate, and don’t give me any more of that ‘I’m fine’ bullshit,” he adds when Yuuri opens his mouth to argue. “Victor will kill me if he finds out you hurt yourself because I let you do something stupid.”

When they get off the ice, Yuuri sinks down onto the bench, not saying a word. Yuri stands in front of him, arms folded across his chest. His phone is a lead weight in his pocket; he’s still debating calling Victor, an idea he contemplates further when Yuri notices the exaggerated rise and fall of Yuuri’s shoulders with each heaving breath. He's coming up on a panic attack, and feeling out of his depth, Yuri's own panic swells. Victor is usually the one who deals with this kind of stuff, not him!

Not knowing what else to do, he places a hand on Yuuri's shoulder. “It’ll be alright. Just… breathe and stuff. Okay?”

Miraculously, that seems to be enough. Yuuri manages a nod and closes his eyes, taking slow measured breaths until he regains control. “Thanks…”

“Don’t mention it,” Yuri says, meaning it.

Yuuri keeps his eyes down and busies himself with trying to untie his skates. His progress is slow, and he doesn’t get very far. His uninjured hand is visibly shaking as he fumbles with the laces, and whenever he tries to use the other it draws a hiss of pain.

Yuri huffs. “I got it. Move,” he says before kneeling in front of the bench.

Yuuri lets out a long breath and cradles his hand to his chest again. “It really hurts.” His voice is hardly a whisper, and though he’s no longer about to go into a panic attack, it’s clear he’s not doing well.

Yuri sets Yuuri’s skates on the bench and rises to his feet. “It looks bad,” he says, grimacing when he catches sight of the injury again. He doesn’t try and asses it, not after how Yuuri reacted before, and instead reaches into his pocket to pull out his cell phone. “I’m calling Victor.”

“Wait!”

Yuri pauses, the phone halfway to his ear, and raises an eyebrow at Yuuri.

“You know you can’t hide this from him. He’s going to find out eventually.”

“I know, I just… I don’t want him to worry,” Yuuri frets. “I’ll call him later. Once we know everything’s okay.”

Yuri slips the phone back in his pocket. “Whatever.” He's not about to let himself get roped into their domestic disputes. “Then on that note, I’m dragging your ass to the emergency room.”

He’s prepared for Yuuri to argue, to start on another plethora of I’m fine’s. Instead, Yuuri gives him a look of almost smug amusement. “I didn’t know you cared so much.”

“You wish. I just don’t want Victor freaking out at me because you were an idiot.” It’s much easier to act inconvenienced than to admit that he actually cares.

“Whatever you say,” Yuuri says, still far too pleased with himself for Yuri’s liking.

Yuri turns his head to the side with a tch before standing up. “You may have fucked up your wrist pretty bad, but your legs are fine, so get up and let’s go already.”

He doesn’t wait to see if Yuuri is following him before he heads in the direction of the change rooms, hoping the light flush on his cheeks will go unnoticed.

～～～

           Years later, in an interview, Yuuri and Victor would be asked, “What’s the grossest thing that’s ever happened to you?” Yuuri would blush to his toes, laugh bashfully, and Victor would take his hand as the two did their best to recount a somewhat television friendly version of the story. It was just a memory, maybe a little funny in hindsight, and absolutely embarrassing. Currently, however, it was not years later. It was nearly 10pm, and Yuuri was stuck in an elevator with the Stomachache to End All Stomachaches.

           They were in Quebec City in the dead of winter- some of the biggest names in figure skating had showed up for this invitational competition. It was a grand two day event, not a part of the grand prix series but still as competitive as ever, all in the name of fun, skating, and good sportsmanship. After free skates were done Victor and Yuuri had gone for a walk around the city, and shared a poutine for lunch before being invited by Chris to a Quebecois sugar shack for dinner. It had been loud and crowded, the cozy restaurant absolutely packed with hungry athletes. Yuuri was absolutely determined to be normal tonight; yes, he had been around people all freaking day, and yes, he was stressed, exhausted, and fighting to ignore a headache. But damn it, he was going to be normal, and he used up all the energy he could muster to socialize, and tuned out J.J’s boring rant about how awful American beer is compared to Canadian beer, how he’d drink a whole litre of the stuff if he didn’t have to drive home tonight, and joined everyone else in indulging in servings of tourtiere, pancakes, and Canadian maple bacon. He suffered in the cold with everyone else learning to roll sticks of snow taffy, and left for the hotel feeling uncomfortably full, but also pretty proud of himself for participating in all this social activity. With some of the younger skaters having left early to go to bed and J.J heading home with Isabella, Yuuri, Victor, Chris, Phichit, Yuri, and Otabek arrived back at the hotel together to spend some time relaxing in one of their rooms.

           All of the skaters for this particular competition were housed on the ninth floor. Huddling into the elevator, Yuuri found himself burying his face in Victor’s scarf, dreading spending any time in someone else’s room, or worse, having other people in their room. His stomach hurt. His head hurt. His fingers and toes were tingling, and he felt cold sweat building and dripping under his jacket. In the cab home he’d assumed it was just anxiety- it had been a big day, after all- but now he felt sick and weak, and was feeling symptoms of his anxiety entirely separate from all of that. The lift started moving and Victor was stroking his back, always in tune with how Yuuri was feeling, but somebody else in the elevator knew him at least as well, and wasn’t interested in subtlety the way that Victor was. That somebody poked Yuuri on the butt with a selfie stick to get his attention.

“You don’t have to keep hanging out with everybody if you don’t feel up to it,” Phichit reminded him, poking his butt again when he hesitated to respond. Yuuri managed a half-smile and hip checked the device away from him, biting his lip when the movement sent a ripple of discomfort through his stomach. Phichit’s slightly-louder-than-intended voice had summoned all eyes on him, and Yuuri was working his jaw around an excuse about being tired when the elevator came to a creaking halt, stuck between the seventh and eighth floors. Everyone startled, and Otabek was the first to get his shit together and press the call button. Yuuri gulped, feeling his heart (and stomach) drop straight to his ass. There was a pause, and then a crackling voice sounded through an overhead speaker.

Bonsoir, Hôtel de Jardin Royale. All eyes rested on Chris, and noting he was already absorbed in tweeting about the stuck elevator, Victor rolled his eyes and spoke up.

“Allo, nous avons six personnes dans l’ascenseur, et il ne bouge pas. Aussi, nous sommes internationel. Parlez vous Anglais?” There was another brief pause, followed by:

Un moment, s’il vous plait. There was a clunk as the employee put them on hold, and Chris glanced up from his phone.

“His accent was fucking disgusting,” he commented, before busying himself again in Twitter.

“Your face is fucking disgusting,” Victor replied. Yuuri whimpered in discomfort and Victor brought a gentle hand up to his hair, gently petting him and scratching his scalp.

“What did you say?” Yuuri asked quietly.

“I just told him the elevator stopped and we’re all stuck in here. I think he’s getting someone who speaks English for us.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re claustrophobic,” Yurio snapped. He leveled Yuuri with an accusatory, if a little concerned, look.

“I’m fine, I just-

Hello, this is the hotel manager. Are you all alright up there?

“Hi,” Phichit chirped brightly. “We’re stuck.”

Yes, the engineers are already on their way.

“How quickly can you get us out?” Yuuri asked, and everyone raised their eyebrows. After all, this was basically a phone call, something Yuuri usually Did Not do.

It depends. The engineers will evaluate the problem and whether it’s safe to pull you all out before they get to work. If there is a medical emergency, and it is safe to do so, we can call the fire department to get you down.

“Are you okay?” Victor whispered, meeting Yuuri’s eyes.

“I have to go to the bathroom!” Yuuri wailed. He immediately clapped a hand over his mouth, realizing what he’d just blurted out. “I mean- I…” Yurio was howling with laughter, but everyone else at least looked sympathetic.

“So that’s what’s wrong with you,” Chris chuckled. Yuuri could swear he heard the manager holding back a snicker as well, but maybe it was just his imagination. He hoped.

Unfortunately that doesn’t count as a medical emergency- I couldn’t legally call 911 because you need the washroom. However we’ll do our best to get you out of there as quickly as possible.

Yuuri turned and buried his face in Victor’s scarf again. The pain in his stomach was quickly turning into nausea, and he was feeling weaker and shakier by the second. He zoned out as the manager gave them a generic hang in there and hung up the phone for the time being, only tuning back into reality when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

PHICHIIIT<3- Are you really okay?-

Yuuri glanced up, giving a short nod when Phichit met his eyes. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t look convinced. There was silence for a moment, but Yuri was in the elevator too, so of course it didn’t last.

“So, you need to piss, Katsudon?”

              Time was crawling. Yuuri had long since sat on the floor, too exhausted to stand, and Victor sat beside him, helping him out of his coat when he noticed how sweaty he was. Before long everyone else followed suit and made themselves comfortable. At this point Yuuri was swallowing convulsively, and they still had no idea how long their imprisonment would last. Weirdly enough, it was Otabek who finally spoke up.

“Victor, I think Yuuri is going to throw up.” Yuuri felt the weight of everyone’s eyes landing on him, but he just couldn’t muster the I’m fine this time. He was too tired. His stomach hurt too much. He heard Victor sigh, felt him rub his shoulder. He didn’t sound surprised.

“Does anyone have a bag or something?” Victor asked. His voice was low, worried. It was Yuuri’s fault.

“Here, use this.” Yuuri slit his eyes open and watched Phichit pull a couple of maple leaf and fleur de lis keychains and some maple candies out of a shopping bag and pass it to Victor. Victor took Yuuri’s hands, moved them so they held the handles of the bag.

“Just if you need it, okay?” Being given something to puke in instantly made him ten times more nauseous, but Yuuri bit his lip, desperate to suppress it. There was no way he would throw up in front of five other people. No wa-

Fuck.

No.

Yuuri was gagging uncontrollably, desperately swallowing back wave after wave of sick. Victor’s hands were on his back, in his hair, on his hands, making sure the bag was open. His voice was in his ear whispering “just let it out, it’s okay, you’re okay.” He pressed his hand against his mouth and Yuri’s voice floated into his consciousness.

“If he pukes I swear to god.” A wet burp escaped and tasted sickeningly like maple syrup, and that was the last straw. Vomit splashed forcefully into the shopping bag. Yuuri coughed and heaved, and he genuinely didn’t know if the tears pouring down his cheeks were from the strain or the humiliation. Maybe both. He tried taking a deep breath, but it turned into a retch halfway. His entire abdomen clenched against his will, and as he heaved again, hot lava loudly and painfully exited him, straight into his pants and onto the floor. By the time he caught a break everyone was silent, staring in horror. Half delirious, Yuuri wondered if it was obvious he’d just shit his pants. Then there was a crackle above him, and the speaker buzzed to life again.

The engineers are here, and they’re working on fixing the problem. Unfortunately you are stuck between floors, so it looks like they’ll have to repair the elevator to get you back down here. How’s everybody doing up there?

“One of us is really sick,” Phichit answered frantically. “Are you sure you can’t get us out to help him?”

Unfortunately it isn’t safe to try and pull you out, but if you need it I can call an ambulance and have it waiting for him when we get you down.

“He doesn’t need an ambulance, he needs a bed,” Victor sighed. He was running his hand through Yuuri’s hair. It was so cool. So nice. He almost felt like he could fall asleep…

RING RING!

Everyone jumped, and Yuuri snapped awake as Phichit rushed to silence his ringing phone.

“Oh, it’s Ciao Ciao,” he mumbled, sheepishly raising it to his ear. “Hey.”

“Hi, Ciao Ciao!” Yuuri sang. He felt drunk. The unrelenting pain and fever was intoxicating, and somehow, covered in sweat and shit, holding a bag of puke, Yuuri was suddenly feeling surprisingly social. Phichit glanced at him, making no effort to hide the concern in his eyes. Not that Yuuri minded; even high on a boiling brain, he was pretty well aware of what he looked like right now.

“Do you want me to put him on speaker, Yuu?” Yuuri grinned dopily, and Phichit pressed the speaker button, letting the hand holding his phone fall to his lap.

“Where are you two?” came Celestino’s voice, and Phichit rubbed at his eyebrow.

“We’re in a stuck elevator. In the hotel. Say hi, everyone.” Four voices chimed in with a hello, followed by a loud belch out of Yuuri, and a responding gag from Yurio.

“Text me next time, you’re always on your phone after all. Is Yuuri drunk?”

“No, he’s sick, and we’ve been stuck in here for almost an hour,” Phichit sighed.

“I’m not sick,” Yuuri defended, having no idea why he suddenly felt inclined to lie about this. “I just have to go to the bathroom.”

“You already went to the bathroom,” Yurio spat. Yuuri threw him a halfhearted dirty look, but it felt a bit ridiculous given the disgusting mess he was sitting in. Looking up, though, he realized everyone in the elevator looked pale and uncomfortable. Otabek was hiding his nose and mouth in his scarf. Chris had his knees brought up to his face so only his eyes were visible. Yuri was blatantly holding his nose, and Phichit was grimacing as he talked to Ciao Ciao in a low voice. Even Victor was breathing shallowly, coughing to himself as he cuddled Yuuri, hugging the source of the nasty smell like a trooper. Guilt flooded Yuuri’s being all at once, and he was crying before he had a chance to realize how upset he was. Time was racing and crawling at the same time. He could hear Victor talking in his ear, Phichit talking to Ciao Ciao, Yuri saying something to Chris and Otabek in his biting voice, but it all morphed into overwhelming white noise. He could hear his stomach grumbling inside of him- something was still definitely leaking out of the back end of him, and he felt his hands tremble at the thought that he might throw up again. He cried and cried, desperately wanting to stop but unable to even remember what it was like to not be crying. He cried so hard he threw up, and it caught him off guard- only about half the puke actually made it into the bag, the rest coating his hands and lap. Then Victor was wiping his hands with tissues from someone’s bag, but it didn’t even matter because Yuuri felt so utterly disgusting. He was sticky and wet and smelly and after all of this nonsense his stomach was STILL hurting. It wasn’t fair.

           By the time the elevator groaned to life the cramping had become too much to handle, and Yuuri had felt everyone’s glares as a second wave of mush filled his pants. He was so dehydrated he ran out of tears, but his hiccupped sobs wouldn’t stop, as hard as he tried to hold them back. Everyone else cheered when the elevator started moving. Yuuri just gagged miserably.

           Everyone stumbled desperately out onto the first floor, gasping for fresh air. Yurio ran and puked in the fancy trash can in the lobby. Otabek actually stepped outside for a few minutes. Victor carried Yuuri out, and Phichit carried the sacrificed shopping bag at an arm’s length, depositing it in the garbage once Yuri was out of the way. The engineers were now holding their breath as they continued to work on the faulty elevator. Obviously the cleaning staff would have to be called down as well. The manager was apologizing profusely, offering them all coupons they didn’t want.

“So,” Victor spoke up, “Can I get him up to our room in the other elevator, or is that one going to break down on us too?”

“The other elevator is working just fine. Although given the state of this one, I’d have to request that you do your best not to… make a mess in the working one.

“I won’t,” Yuuri groaned, probably surprising the manager. He looked like he was asleep in Victor’s arms. “I just want to go to sleep.” He felt Victor kiss his head and start off toward the working elevator.

“I’ll come with you,” came Phichit’s voice. Victor startled.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. He’s really not well, and… well, we’ve lived together before. I know it’s hard taking care of him, ‘cause he gets so sick. I can run a bath and buy some ginger ale from the vending machine while you wipe him off.” Yuuri listened and felt affection for his friend well up in his chest. People were so good to him.