When he got the phone call, Viktor felt sick to his stomach. He doesn’t remember if he threw up or not. His knees buckled under him, his breathing was erratic. Him and Yuuri have been in New York for a few weeks doing a skating workshop. Yuuri was going to be on the news and skate at Rockefeller Plaza and then have an interview and talk about skating and what not. He was deemed the most Influential skater in the entire ISU. Yuuri and the news anchors were going over everything and Yuuri did a run through of everything and then he was going to head back to their hotel. Only in one of the super busy intersections, he was hit. It was buy a huge SUV that was speeding through the intersection. They were trying to avoid stopping at the light but it had long since changed to red by the time Yuuri was in the middle of the intersection.
He was just arriving at the hospital when they were bringing Yuuri into surgery. He was covered in blood-soaked bandages. He is already hooked up to a million machines and IVs and Viktor felt like a rug was ripped out from under his feet. Yuuri is his whole world. He lives and breathes for Yuuri. A doctor comes and finds him and begins to fill him in on everything that’s going on with him physically. Viktor is only half listening because he has this heavy, terrifying feeling that Yuuri isn’t going to walk away from this as easily as the one in the SUV is going to walk away from it.
“Right now, our most pressing matter is the fact that he has a brain bleed, nothing too huge, but we’re going to take care of that before we do anything else so there’s no psychological permanent damage,” The Doctor says.
“Will he be okay?” Viktor chokes the on the words.
“We are very hopeful that the broken bones and lacerations will heal beautifully, our only hesitation is the brain. We won’t be able to tell the extent of the damage until he wakes up. We will have a better picture of what’s going on mentally than what we have right now,” Viktor nods, only he feels like all of this information is coming in one ear and going out the other. “I take it you would like him moved to a VIP room? It offers you two and your families a little bit more privacy.”
“Y-Yes please,” Viktor thanks the doctor and he slumps down into a chair. He pulls out his phone and does the hardest thing he’ll probably ever have to do, he calls Yuuri’s parents, not knowing what time it is there, and telling them what’s going on. It doesn’t take long for the tabloids to tell everyone that Yuuri was in the crash and then the fans spread it so in a mater of minutes, the news that Yuuri was in a car crash has spread like wildfire through the entire world. Phichit and Chris are in California and they are booking flights here, Yuuri’s parent’s got a flight for the next day, Viktor’s mother couldn’t get a flight out, but she offers to pay the bills for Viktor so he doesn’t have to think about it - so his main focus can be on Yuuri and his road to recovery.
While he waits, Viktor is thrown into some sort of limbo. He can’t tell if time is trugging on or if it is speeding by. Someone sits next to him and tries to make polite conversation, but he’s so absent minded that he barely pushes out two words.
“My son is in here with a minor concussion and some cuts. He was in a car crash, who are you waiting here for?” she’s a short, round woman with wiry blondish grey hair.
“My husband,” Viktor replies. He’s sitting next the mother of the man who put Yuuri here. “Your son hit his car.” The look of horror on her face will be something he will never forget. She doesn’t even say she’s sorry on his behalf, or hopes that Yuuri is okay. She just sits there silently. Part of Viktor wonders if she is silent because she’s against the fact that Viktor has a husband and thinks that her son did a public service. Either way, Viktor gets up and walks around to try to get rid of the anger that’s pooling inside of him. All of his life, he has been the “forgive and forget” type, but this is something he won’t forgive nor will he forget.
The press try to worm their way into the hospital to get the inside on what’s going on with Yuuri because to them this is just a popularity contest to see who can get the better, more detailed story first. Something like this is going to go down in history in the skating world.
It’s hours later before Viktor is allowed into Yuuri’s room. He’s spent the better part of one of those hours, watching the news coverage of the crash; Watching drone shots of the wreckage, the EMTs prying the drivers side of Yuuri’s car open to get him out. He watched all the way up until they were loading the wreckage on trucks and toeing it away. The intersection opens up again as if nothing happened the moment everyone is done with it.
It was a surreal feeling walking into Yuuri’s room. His head is covered in a white bandage, his face has little patches on them from cuts from the glass shards. He has spikes in his right hip, it was broken badly from the crash. His skin is a litter of bruises and patches covering up tiny open wounds. He has a brainwave monitor, and IV, a nurse is taking out an empty blood bag, he has an oxygen cannula. He should have brought Yuuri his extra pair of glasses.
“This is everything that was on him when he was brought in,” A nurse says handing Viktor a clear plastic bag with his shoes, phone, and the wedding ring. “The things from the car are in the bag on that chair.” His skatebag made it, although that’s the least of Viktor’s worries. He opens it and the skates look as they did before all of this His glasses case is inside with them in it. He uses contacts when he skates. The doctors say they don’t know how long it will be until Yuuri wakes up, but they’re very positive he’s going to wake up. The VIP room is nice, it has a little closet and inside of it is a cot. The chair in the room is also a recliner so it can also be slept on. There are extra pillows and blankets inside. Viktor knows one things for sure - he’s not leaving here without Yuuri. He drags the chair up to Yuuri’s beside and he gently holds his hand.
“Yuuri, I’m right here. You’re going to be fine,” He says, his voice is barely above a whisper.