It would be great, if he was on the road right now, riding on an empty lane, with no cars ahead to slow down the motorbike's roaring, biting the asphalt, eating the distance with only freezing wind between them and the hills, the mountains, snow that would crackle and melt under their steps. It would be amazing, looking at Russia unnoticeably melt into Kazakhstan, beautiful in its cold browns and dry green.

It would also be great to ride a motorbike, take it on a hill, with Otabek driving, and then they could sit somewhere, some place where other eyes can’t see. Let the motorbike rest somewhere without a care, and just relax, quietly, the way Yuri likes doing. For once, it would be nice, not having to explode in someone’s face, and Otabek is the only person who won’t… force him to.

Otabek’s proximity does this to him, it soothes him, as there are no peaks and no lows in the way he understands, in the way he sees Yuri. He rescued him from fans who saw Yuri like an icon, and listened to Yuri complain whenever there was something irritating or hurting him. Otabek is that person, the one helping Yuri grow by holding a silent mirror in front of him.

But also, when in his company, Yuri can be just a boy. Not a multi-medal winning figure skating champion, not an almost-adult, but not a child either, which everyone else seems to see him as.

If they were on the road, with a cool, powerful roar between their legs and nothing else, he would be lacing his arms around Otabek’s leather jacket and know he’s there, he’d be touching him. He’d feel the ice cold Russian wind scratch his face but that would only give him an excuse to press his face against Otabek’s back and there would be no reason to feel embarrassment. There would be no weird silences along the line, no need to speak to fill it up like when they’re on the phone. There would be no distance and Yuri could touch him whenever he wanted.

He would not care about looking at the ugly parts of the road.

But all he has right now is a computer screen, and Potya loudly purring on his keyboard while Otabek looks at him from another corner of the world, from another time zone, barely cutting time for a brief Skype conversation before training.

There’s no time for motorbike rides.

“Anyway, the roads would be filled up anyway…” Otabek reminds him, with a small, amused smirk. “But I’ll see you soon, Yura. Maybe we’ll go somewhere on our own.”

Yuri’s cheeks turn pink quickly, as he grabs the poor Potya, ignoring her whines from having to abandon the computer’s warmth, and holds her to his chest.

“When?” He asks, looking down at the bears printed on his duvet.

He doesn’t see Otabek shrug, but can imagine he did.

“Soon.”

Yuri nibbles at his lip, with a pout he hides against the poor Potya’s fur, and Otabek speaks again.

“Put her down, the poor thing clearly doesn’t want cuddles right now.”

Yuri looks back to the screen with a frown (if he can’t hold her, who could keep his chest warm?), but then lets his arms rest so that the ragdoll can escape and plop back on the keyboard right away.

“I miss you too,” Otabek says almost tenderly after a brief pause, as if he’d read Yuri’s mind.

Yuri’s eyes go wide and his cheeks flare all of a sudden, and thank God there is no heating turned on because with the heat wave right now he would be sweating.

“Shut up,” he mutters, and his fingers naturally find their way through Potya’s soft fur, just to fidget as he tries to dissimulate.

Otabek hums the way he does, amused, but then someone knocks at his door and gets in his room hurrying him out and suddenly there’s no space nor time for Yuri; the thought of him is forcibly kicked out of Otabek’s mind when he quickly says goodbye, I’ll see you soon, he adds.

Yuri sees his face disappear and clenches his teeth at the throbbing hurt and rage in his chest.

If only they were on a road somewhere, only looking at the landscape vary but never really change, they would have time to talk or not, nobody would intrude. But he’s got to wait, he’s got to spend more days alone. The closest person he’s got is Viktor, but he’ll go straight to the worst circle of hell before asking Viktor for some company. The Japanese pork cutlet would be there attached to his hip anyway, so there would be no point to maybe skating together. Even Viktor abandoned him, but that’s just a fact now, one that is useless to fight against.

So he lies down, and immediately Potya crawls on his chest, snuggling against him.

“You’re the only friend I have,” he mumbles, possibly even in a worst mood than before. Potya looks at him with a calm air, rubbing her cheek against his, and the softness of her fur, the pressure of her tiny feet on his chest somewhat seem to calm him down a little, enough to make him pet her gently, and tell her about his fantasies of riding Otabek’s motorbike up the mountains near Almaty and then looking down at the clear water of the Issyk lake. The air would be nice, too. He knows he would love to maybe bring some beer, and maybe Otabek would scold him for it because he’s still underage and there’s time to start drinking, but then Yuri would tell him to let it go, for once. And Otabek would.

“I miss him,” he finally admits with a mutter as he looks up to his ceiling, and lets out a sigh before looking at his cat as she curls comfortably on his chest and closes her eyes as if she was also relieved he finally said it.

Yes, he does. The next time they meet, he’s going to make every second count. Maybe he could really convince Otabek to run off somewhere for a couple of hours, somewhere it can be just the two of them.