Three minutes and forty-seven point seven seconds wasn't nearly as good of a record as he thought it would be.

Yurio's legs were on the verge of collapsing, breathing erratic and mind still whirring from running not only to defend his dignity, but also escape the hotel security.

"Shit," he groaned, arm leaning against the wall as he panted, "You're a slightly better runner than I thought."

"Slightly? Mister, I would care to remind you that I just beat you by a whole fifteen seconds. Pssh, slightly. You're just jelly! Yuri's jelly! Ooh, then Beka-babe's the peanut butter, hmm?" Calliber stuck her tongue out, nudging his shoulder as he straightened back up.

He glared at her, willing himself not to think about the fact that she was barely out of breath. Apparately, the banquet hall was a larger distance than he'd previously remembered it as-- the hotel must have done renovations. Definitely. There was no way they had just raced across the same amount of space he'd walked yesterday.

"And, if I possess the audacity to ask, why were you so slow? Honestly, my grandma could've done better." She scoffed playfully.

"Fifteen seconds, shorty!"

"Mmph, sure. But remember who's had the longest training experience? And who is biologically at the peak of their athletic performance? Quite odd that the person who lost had all these advantages... sad. Hmm? Or... maybe you had other things on your mind distacting you. Yay or nay?" Calliber did a small victory dance, shaking her hips as she gracefully-- not gracefully at all-- spun to the other side of the room, arms above her head.

Yurio glared at her with careful eyes, wavering on the thread of trust. Since she was the only person he'd confided in, he may as well continue to open up to her, for his own mental health.

"Yeah," he tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, "yeah, you're right."

"Ooh, hon, spill the beans! My ears are wide and open for you, you know! Turn up!" Calliber criss-crossed the room side to side with her lazing spins.

He let his hand linger on his head, breathing in sharply before averting his eyes wryly. Yurio focused on the light scoffs of Calliber's feet across the floor, and began to speak.

"I've listened to what you've said, started doing it, and I think it's working. Being around Beka is easier to cope with now, I have a clearer... mindset. Fuck, I'll save the formalities, this whole thing was tearing me up. Last week I had a shitty breakdown right in front of him, but I suppose that's life. In a few more weeks, I think I'll be able to think of him as just a fucking friend. Finally." Yurio sighed, yawning a second after due to shortness of oxygen-- his lungs weren't used to talking for extended periods of time.

Calliber paused in her spinning, frowning at him. She tapped her foot impatiently as she thought, eyebrows expressing every thought that flitted through her mind. She was quite expressive when thinking, whether she meant to be or not.

"And? You're still sad about something, hon." She pouted, skipping back over to where Yurio stood.

"Hah," he laughed dryly, "When am I not? If I had to choose the most stickling thing right now, it would be my neediness." Yurio found comfort in staring at Calliber's dark curls, pronouncing each syllable everytime they bounched. They were a lovely, ebony distraction that kept his attention on the subject at hand.

"Explain it to me, jelly bean. Ooh, that's nice! Or maybe caramel, or chocolate-- wait, no, I'm the chocolate one here-- or you could be gummy bear!" She rambled, showing her apparent affinity for candy.

"I feel needy, like I ask too much, like I'm a problem. But Beka-- I never really help Beka, he doesn't seem to need help. Why does he befriend me then? It's so one-sided?"

"Hon, some people need to be loved and some love to be needed. Okay, now, I'm done being philosophical for today! In other recent news, I heard Yuuri and Viktor are coaching our class today!" Calliber quite literally squealed, nearly bursting Yurio's eardrums in the act. She resumed spinning around, occasionally calling out another trivial thing, such as continuing to talk about her favorite sweets-- not that Yurio was listening.

Instead, he was mulling over the offhanded counseling she'd given him. It seemed to resound within him, sending residual waves of assimilation soaking into his bones. He understood what she said, even if he didn't like that he was the one that needed to be loved.

"Yura." A familiar voice appeared behind him, moving along with the body slowly coming into his peripheral vision.

"B-Beka. Good morning."

"...You just saw me twenty minutes ago? Before you and Calliber ran off randomly." Otabek raised an eyebrow as he set down his bag, taking off his jacket rhythmically. Yurio really wished he wouldn't-- that just made his attempts to make their relationship platontic even more difficult.

"We were--" Yurio started, trying to explain it without making it sound like they were lunatics for suddenly deciding to run in the hotel for no apparent reason. He, unfortunately, was cut off-- by his 'favorite' people, no less.

"Yurio! My son! Vkusno, vkusno!" A pair of pale and vein-induced arms tightened around him like a cobra, squeezing him with unwarranted kindness. Yuuri stood to the side, waiting a second awkwardly before deciding to join in on the hug as well, taking to accomodating Yurio's other side.

"My name is Yuri, crusty old man! Get off me before I catch your mushy germs and turn into a brain-dead zombie with so little intelligence that I fall in love with an overweight bowl of katsudon and--" Yurio struggled, spitting out words as the cobra's hold tightened.

"You can't speak to your fathers like that, Yurio." Viktor reprimanded him, shaking his head; Yurio couldn't tell if it was mockingly or seriously.

Yurio looked up to Otabek pleadingly, who stepped back with his hands up.

After mentally screaming at Otabek, Yurio made a mental note to punch him later. Slim chance he'd go through with it, but he was extremely pissed at Otabek in the moment.

"Then good thing you aren't my fathers!" Yurio escaped from their grasp, thankful he had enough self-control to not start cursing at them.

It wasn't that he really hated them, he just hated skin-to-skin contact with most people, including them.

Although he'd never admit it, sometimes Yuuri and Viktor weren't half-bad-- they were sort of, kind of, possibly like father figures to him. Maybe. The thought had crossed his mind, though he'd pushed it away frantically; one crisis at a time.

"Otabek Altin!" A booming figure appeared from the doors, sending the skaters currently entering scurrying away like startled mice.

"Yakov." Otabek nodded, seeming to know what Yakov wanted already. He gave a small wave goodbye to Yurio, exiting the room quietly. His footsteps echoed as a few people watched, not many daring to make sounds with the frustrated aura Yakov was emitting.

The room soon turned back to the normal buzz it had been at, conversations flowing again. Yurio continued talking to Viktor and Yuuri, bickering but comforting to him; at least some things wouldn't change so quickly.

Soon enough, Otabek returned and practice started. The air was different with these coaches than with Yakov-- more relaxed, although that may not be the most beneficial at a training camp. Nonetheless, it was undeniable that the skaters had fun at practice with the change in mentors.

The rest of that day, Yurio continued to ponder what Calliber had said-- it was still sending vibes through his bones, and he wasn't sure what that meant.

~ ~ ~

A/N: I feel like I say this every chapter, but I'm too lethargic to check for mistakes, so... my apologies. But, thank you all for your comments and votes and support! That is the fuel of a wattpad writer.