The Outline of Our Lives

Part 3

An American skating forum is ground zero for the sexual assault speculation. After that, it's a fucking feeding frenzy: Phichit hasn't posted anything on Instagram in a record five days, someone spotted Yuri's handprint-shaped bruise, and Yuuri himself got caught leaving the hospital with Victor, a bad limp, and still-swollen lips. Which'd be nothing if the pictures of them at the club hadn't surfaced: Yuri and Otabek shyly holding hands. JJ toasting with a B-52. Yuuri and Phichit dancing hip-to-hip under the strobe lights, laughing, their clothes too tight and too pretty. Yuuri thanks god that the mystery photographer hadn't stuck around long enough to see the ambulances, because at that point, the evidence of the attack that night would've been undeniable. As it is, Yuuri thinks they might be able to play it off as a regular bar fight if they play their cards just right.

"You don't look natural," says Victor, studying him through the camera phone's display. "Maybe don't smile. Make it look like you're trying to be hardcore."

Uncertain, Yuuri flashes upside-down peace signs.

"Okay, yeah, no. Smile," Victor says, and takes a picture.

He hands the phone off to Yuuri, who studies the photo: he looks rough, but nowhere near as bad as he had that night. The bruises have dulled to a subtler, mottled yellow. More importantly, he seems nonchalant: nice smile, taped-up nose; nope, no rape over here. Just a rambunctious young adult who made some really poor decisions before a major sporting event. "This'll work," he says. He goes to upload it, throws a filter over it so the discolorations are vivid and the cold sores he has recently developed are minimized. Hashtag bar brawl. "What should I say in the caption?"

"'You should see the other guy,'" suggests Victor.

That reminds Yuuri of Phichit, and he squeezes his eyes shut, swallowing hard against the lump that rises in his strangely sore throat. Victor sees immediately that he has been affected and reaches in to embrace him from behind, treating the tender space behind his ear to a soft kiss.

"I've said something wrong. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault." Yuuri sighs, straightens, and returns to his phone. Caption: 'Baby's first bar fight. So sorry about the #GrandPrix. Needed a little time to explore my inner #badass.' He shows the draft to Victor, who shrugs.

"It doesn't sound like you, but missing the competition was uncharacteristic too, so..."

Yuuri posts it. Almost instantly it gets several likes, one of them from Christophe. That kind of boosts his street cred, right? Having a witness to corroborate the story? He twists around in his chair to lean into Victor's arms, too tired to cry. He's been doing enough of that lately. Making up for all the crying that Phichit isn't doing.

After his initial breakdown, Phichit's been back to hardcore denial. He's still in the hospital. A physical therapist is helping him with his movement, but it's a slow, painful process, and Phichit doesn't seem very motivated to walk again anytime soon. He's sent Yuuri a few pictures from bed; flowers that he's received from friends, bleak hospital lunches, Seung Gil dozing in the chair beside him. His text messages are equally distant. 'Tired this afternoon,' he writes. 'Supposed to be sunny. Lunch today is kimchi and eggs.' It's a very different, very vague Phichit, disquieting in its impersonality, and Yuuri finds himself selfishly avoiding him. He doesn't think his presence there would help much anyway. Every time they get close to talking about it, Seung Gil reports, Phichit just changes the subject.

Most of the skating community members have booked hotel rooms for the next few weeks in a show of solidarity. Yakov had to leave on his original ticket to take care of things at home, but the rest of them—Chris, Otabek, Yuri, Celestino, even JJ—are still in town. Celestino has taken to bringing Yuuri and Victor breakfast each morning, bean sprout soup and coffee and rice. Good thing, too, or Yuuri probably wouldn't be eating. He feels sick on guilt. Victor's told him over and over that the attack wasn't his fault, but Yuuri can't shake the feeling that he was responsible for what happened to them.