Short update this time, but we are at a Revelation.

Mama emailed in the morning. We talked with your brother. We didn't tell him anything you wouldn't want him to, but I think he understands a little better what had happened.

I'm sorry that we didn't realize at the time; I think we were so focused on you that we didn't notice what your brother was seeing. Kids are always more observant than we give them credit for, I think.

I think for the short term he's decided to be angry with us, rather than with you and your friend, but he’s going to stay here another day so you could have some privacy.

Let us know if you need anything. We're still planning on having you over tonight, but if you'd rather not come, we'll understand.

“You still want to deal with the rest of my family?” he asked Yuri.

“Sure,” Yuri said. “You have, like, another brother and sister anyway, right? They can’t all hate me.”

“They might.” His parents would have tried some damage control, but Sunnat was persuasive. And he’d been angry as hell.

“Okay, maybe they do. At least I’ll have tried, right?”

“Right,” Otabek conceded.


Either Otabek’s family was the most accomplished group of liars he’d ever met, or they loved him. Either way, Yuri had decided to count it as a win.

Gulisa had chased him out of the kitchen with a spatula, and Damira had pinned him down to talk about music instead, because Beka never likes my suggestions, and they’re really good, and then Berik had insisted that both he and Otabek play with his toy trains. Sunnat lurked around, glowering at everything and everyone, and Yuri choked down his first instinct to glare and gave him a bright, pleasant smile instead. (Thanks, Katsudon.)

He sat by Ulbolsin at dinner, which was a huge mistake, because she worked at a fucking investment bank and had Opinions on what skaters should do to properly invest their winnings and sponsorship money. Otabek, apparently, had a trust that he couldn’t touch until he was twenty-five, and had had to beg his mothers for motorcycle lessons. “You have to be careful,” she said, sagely. “Too many professional athletes end their careers with chronic pain and empty bank accounts. You can’t always prevent the former, but--”

Otabek sighed, dramatically, and Yuri wondered how many times the Altin-Chorieva family had had this discussion. “Berik could probably start his banking career tomorrow, and he’s ten.”

“Well, Yuri’s never visited before, Zhanym.” Yuri had heard that one before, and made a mental note to figure out what it meant.

“Once they came to Skate America to cheer me on, and she practically taught a class,” Otabek said.

“And your friend Leo was very grateful,” she said, archly.

“None of us want to end up broke,” Yuri said, because it was true, and she smiled at him, pleased and just a little smug.

Sunnat snorted, and Otabek glared and maybe kicked him under the table. Yuri pretended he didn't notice, because he was the boyfriend and that meant grabbing every inch of moral high ground he could find.

Ulbolsin did, though. Sunnat was clearly on some kind of Mama Probation. Good. Sunnat could hate him all he wanted to, but he had no right to take it out on Otabek. And Yuri wasn't--shit, whatever Sunnat thought. He'd paid his own bills for most of his life. Spent half of his life paying other people's bills. Sunnat didn't have any idea how hard he worked, or how hard his brother had worked or for how long.

Fuck. He was thinking you don't know my life to his boyfriend's shitty brother. Time to let that shit go. "Beka says Berik skates," he said, instead. "Is he going to compete?"

"I don't think so," Gulisa said. "He's having fun but he's not as...driven."

"I'm going to be a train engineer," Berik said. "Skating's fun but I don't want to wear the costumes like Beka does. He looks silly."

Yuri tried to hide his smile, but Otabek kicked his ankle, so he must have caught it.

"I've worn the traditional costumes of our country," Otabek chided.

"Too many sequins."

"There's never enough sequins," Damira said. "Except that velvet suit your coach wouldn't let you wear. That had...too many sequins."

"Too many," Gulisa agreed, like she'd seen some shit. Yuri made a mental note to ask Otabek about it later. "But I do like the sequins. They make things stand out better in the spotlight."

"That's what they're supposed to do," Otabek said, and it sounded like he'd had this argument multiple times with multiple people, all of whom were sitting at the kitchen table. "I liked the velvet suit."

"We know," his mothers and sisters said, simultaneously, and Yuri had to bite back a laugh.

"Have you decided on a costume yet for this year?"

Otabek shook his head. "Need to settle on the music, first. I know some people do it when they choose a theme, but that never works for me."

"He hasn't even told us his theme yet," Gulisa confided. "Normally it's all settled by now."

"I know, I know," he said. "It's close. It...needs to say exactly what I want it to say."

"What's yours, Yuri?" Sunnat asked.

Yuri wondered if telling him would get his theme leaked all over the forums in the next two hours. Well, fuck it, he didn't care. "Heroes," he said. "For Moscow--because it's a Hero City--and for my grandfather. He took care of me when--when I didn't have anyone else. And he was a safety officer for the Kalinin power plant until he retired. He's brave. And he taught me to cook." Sunnat could say he came from nothing all he wanted to. It wasn't true. Not even close. "I know you wouldn't let me in the kitchen tonight, but--"

"We know," Gulisa said. "Beka has told us all about your cooking."

"You didn't want me to cook last night!"

"You're a guest!"

"I like cooking," he grumbled.

“Next time,” Gulisa said.


"Have you really not decided on a theme?" Otabek was always so determined. It wasn't like him to be the last one out.

He sat down heavily on the couch and pulled Yuri into his lap, his face resting against the back of Yuri's neck. "I know what I want to say and what I want to be skating about. But I have to say it the right way, and I haven't figured that out yet. It's kind of like how you've got a lot of things you want to talk about, with your theme. About home and about your grandfather. It's like that, only...it's more than that, I guess. I want to get it right in my own head first."

"That makes sense," Yuri said.

Otabek pressed his lips to Yuri's skin. "Are you going to skate a tribute to the Kalinin power plant?"

"Funny, asshole. But no. I...I want my free skate to be about. About--" He hadn't told Otabek much of this before. He'd mostly talked around it. "After Mama left, the last time. She'd promised--" She'd promised a lot of bullshit. "She promised that we'd go away for a week, fishing. I should've known. She didn't even know how to fish."

"And your grandfather took you instead."

"He rented a place. Took time off. I don't know how much it cost, because he never--if we were short, I didn't know it. And then I started skating, and I started winning, and it got easier." Otabek's thumb was stroking slow, down the bumps of his spine. It felt weirdly good. "But he--maybe I wouldn't have made it, you know? Maybe we would've kept...he gave up a lot. For me."

"I think it's a good theme," he said. "You don't have to tell anyone all that, but you can use it."

"Exactly," he said. "That's why I want the Stones song. He used to buy bootleg albums, you know. In secret. Lilia wants something classical, but she always wants something classical."

"You could do a cover."

"Fuck covers. All everyone does is those slowed-down bullshit covers. If I want to hear a children's choir sing something I'd--fuck. I don't know. Go to a children's choir concert? Watch a bunch of movie trailers?" He felt Otabek chuckling below him. "What would you do?"

"Complain. And probably fight. Does it have to be the Rolling Stones? Maybe you could pick another song he liked?"

"I remember him humming this one," he said. "I want it to be this one."

"Then you have to fight," he said. "And you'll win."

He closed his eyes, and thought: I love you.

And then thought: Oh, shit. I really do.