A funny word called Love

Chapter 35

Otabek decided that enough was enough when he noticed that Yuri was sobbing against his back. He couldn't force Yuri to tell him what was wrong but he figured that Yuri probably needed to talk about what was going on, and just needed a little gentle prodding before he would tell him. Otabek decided to circle back to a park that they had passed a short while ago and once they got there he lead Yuri off of the motorcycle and to a nearby bench, enveloping him in a hug when he sat down beside him.

They sat there in silence, except for Yuri's sobs, for a few minutes, until Otabek broke the quiet and asked, "Yura, what's wrong?"

"It's nothing," Yuri grumbled.

"I know that it's not nothing, Yura, and you know, talking through it won't hurt. And not talking about it doesn't make it disappear," Otabek said calmly.

"Okay," Yuri said and took a deep breath before saying, "It's my grandfather..." Yuri's voice trailed off as he broke into more sobs.

"What happened. Is he alright?"

"No."

"How bad is it."

"Beka, he's, he's dead..." Yuri choked out.

For a while Otabek said nothing. He didn't know what he could say that would be able to comfort Yuri, and he was in a bit of shock at this news, though he knew that it couldn't begin to compare to how Yuri was feeling. So, he just pulled Yuri into a tight hug, deciding that that was the best option that was available.

"Beka, what do I do now. What if he would've been fine if I had been there. What if I had been there... Maybe he would've survived. And if I had been with him at the time... If I had just given up the Grand Prix for this year and moved back to Moscow to help him... Maybe he would still be here... I shouldn't have been so goddamn selfish. I should've moved back to help him I'm such a fucking idiot!" Yuri's sobs had now stopped, though the tears still ran down his cheeks, but now there was something other than sadness. Anger.

"Hey Yura."

"Yeah?"

"This wasn't your fault. I'm so sorry that your grandfather died but it's not your fault. Your grandfather was an old man, and there's only so long that one can outrun death. It was his time to go, and so he went. Your being there wouldn't have caused him to survive. It wasn't being selfish for you to continue skating. You being in Moscow wouldn't have helped. You wouldn't have been able to prevent another stroke, even if you had been there. And besides, didn't you say that your grandfather had always supported your skating. Didn't you say that he had always wanted to see you succeed? He wouldn't have wanted you to miss competing because of his health, I don't think. There's only so long a person can live, and he reached the end of his life, and there wouldn't have been anything you could've done to prevent this, so don't blame yourself. I'm so sorry that he's gone, Yura, I'm so sorry."

They sat there for a few minutes, Yuri slowly processing what he had been told then Yuri said, "I wish it were my fault. It makes more sense when something's a person's fault, not a true fact, like human mortality."

"Not everything is somebody's fault. Assigning blame doesn't make anything easier you know..."

"It sure makes things seem a lot easier," Yuri said.

"Well it doesn't make them actually easier, it's just a coping mechanism that often ends up hurting others or yourself rather than fixing whatever is going on."

"I suppose..." Yuri said quietly, his voice hardly more than a whisper. Then he continued by saying, "Grandfather, he was the last of my family..."

"I know," Otabek said softly, hugging Yuri tighter still, as if he could somehow shield Yuri from all the pain and sadness and grief and inner turmoil that he was now experiencing by hugging him.

"Now it's just me," Yur said with a sigh, and a far off look in his eyes.

"Your biological family being gone doesn't mean that you're alone..." Otabek responded.

"Thank you," Yuri said softly.