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min-minn · 5 years

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Symphony - Chapter Five

A03

Summary: Viktor Nikiforov, tenor prodigy and top student at the Salchow Institute of Music, is looking for an accompanist.

And word around campus is that Yakov Feltsman, Head of Music and conductor of the prestigious Institute Band, is looking for new members.

Yuuri Katsuki is just looking to survive his next Piano recital

The Yuri on CONCERT Music School AU that we all deserve

Pairings: Viktor Nikiforov/ Yuuri Katsuki

Rating: Teen And Up

Content Warning: Anxiety

A/N: *bows profusely* I'm so so sorry it took me this long, and I'm sorry it was a bit of a shorter chapter!

After finishing Fever I had to literally purge myself and get my mind back into this fic properly. This chapter felt like a bit of a warm up - getting ready to throw myself into the deep end that is the story to come. AND BOY AM I READY to throw myself in. I've never wanted to write something so much in my life.

AND ITS THANKS TO ALL OF YOU GREMLINS! Thank you so much for all of the support - I actually don't know how to describe how much it encourages me. Knowing there's people out there who actually want to listen to some crazy story I've dreamt up, it makes me want to wake up in the morning. I hope I can do this story justice and give you some half-decent food to keep us all satiated until YOI gets back from the war...

No music this chapter, but there'll be plenty in the next one! I'm writing it as we speak!I also hope to update this fic on a bit of a stricter schedule - After this weekend I'll be posting a new chapter (sometimes two) every Monday night PST! (Give or take because I'm at the other end of the world and Monday night is actually Tuesday evening for me~) I really want to challenge myself to write this fic as fully as I can, and I don't like keeping people waiting!

And also, of course, find me on twitter or tumblr if you have any questions. I also do art when my brain wants a break from writing which I post there, and I've met some great members of the YOI fandom already around my art and writing so I'm always open to making more! (YALL KNOW WHO YOU ARE, YOU SICKENINGLY BEAUTIFUL HUMANS)

ANYWAY LOTS OF BELATED LOVE,

- Min

Shortly after the practice session, Yuuri had completely thrown himself into his study. His anxiety was nothing new - after however many years of bathroom stalls and car parks and stage wings soaked in fear, the panic attacks were like old friends. And every time they rolled through him, passing through like a tornado and leaving him weak, his first thought was always music.

At least he had his music.

As a child, Yuuri had been blessed with plenty of time to practice. His life was easy-going in Hasetsu - school was simple, friends were simple, home was simple. If anything threw him into an anxious spin, nobody paid any mind when he would slip away quietly to his room, or sprint to Minako’s then studio to use her grand. It was a sort of therapy, he’d decided. There were probably better ways for him to find relief - ways that didn’t border on obsession - but he reasoned that if it worked, if it wasn’t hurting anyone else, then how bad could it be?

When he’d practice to calm himself, it didn’t matter what he played, so long as his fingers were moving along the keys. Sometimes it was Liszt. Sometimes Chopin. Sometimes jazz or simple accompaniment pieces. He even had a small folder of pop songs and film scores that slipped into his rotation every now and then. Phichit always loved listening to Yuuri play pieces from The King and the Skater – his ‘absolute favourite movie of all time, no exceptions’- though that usually only happened when they were drinking at home, Phichit screeching along at the top of his lungs while Yuuri stumbled his way through the chords.

Now that Yuuri was focussed on his thesis and composition, he had plenty to fill up his practice time. And so, after the disastrous practice session, blinded slightly by tears and desperate to get his hands on his keyboard, bitterly afraid of running into Viktor, he’d come home with Phichit and all but chained himself to his piano. Had run over the notes from his last session with Lilia. Practiced scales and glissandos and tremolos until his nails dug into his skin. Written pages after pages of ideas - notes erased and moved like chess pieces across the bars. Ideas scrawled in fine pencil in the margins - sometimes in English, sometimes in Japanese.

Very soon, as the days drifted past, the events of that practice session - and with it, the painful thoughts of Viktor - drowned into quiet at the back of his mind. Phichit was kind enough not to bring it up, though he was quite busy with his own practice and some latest video project he’d been commissioned to do.

Sometimes the thoughts would resurface - particularly if Yuuri spotted a flash of silver hair across the quad, or heard someone say his name in passing - but all in all, Yuuri felt he was slowly putting the whole thing behind him.

It had been a relatively productive week by the time Yuuri’s next session with Lilia rolled around. He was still slightly nervous - certain that she’d be just as cold and ruthless as their first meeting - but the edge was taken off ever so slightly since he knew, now, what to expect. He almost felt comforted, knowing with certainty that he was going to be chewed up and spat out by the diva. Kind of fitting.

He deserved it, after all.

Because that was the one constant as his mind reeled. As he tried to make sense of the strange events surrounding Viktor. As he tried to reason and brute force his way through all his emotions with some sort of logic.

He wasn’t good enough for him. Wasn’t good enough for The Institute Band. Wasn’t good enough to even be here at SIM…

“Do I have your complete attention, Mr. Katsuki?” A voice cut across his thoughts.

“Oh! Yes, Madame Baranovskaya. Of course,” he quickly straightened in the piano stool, Lilia was a constant presence behind him as she scanned his movements. He’d drifted off while playing again – working his way through the first movement of his composition piece to try and show her what he’d been working on.

“I admire your appreciation of the musicality of your piece, Mr. Katsuki, but we’re strictly working on tempo today,” she said coolly, eyes flashing as she looked down at him. Yuuri’s heart sank ever so slightly – if only he could keep his mind in check for one second perhaps he’d be worthy of Lilia’s time. But, of course, who was he kidding? He hardly had any right to be here, under her supervision, let alone at this school…

“And I do believe,” she said in an oddly soft tone, “This piece was originally intended to be played in a major key, correct?”

Yuuri blinked, furrowing his brow. Had he been playing in a minor key? He could hardly remember…

“Yes, of course” he dipped his head in embarrassment.

“Celestino did warn me about your tendency to get lost in the music,” she continued, pursing her lips as she appraised him. Her gaze never failed to set his teeth on edge. Like he was on display, completely exposed and slowly being picked apart. He swallowed as the silence dragged on, bracing himself for the inevitable reprimand.

“You can use that to your advantage, if you have someone skilled enough to record your playing,” and her voice was rather quiet. Almost as if she were speaking to herself. “You have a unique way of phrasing that would do you wonders if you were actually paying attention.”

Yuuri tried to hide the blush he could feel warming his ears at her words. Was it …meant to be some kind of compliment? He’d never heard someone speak that way about his playing before.

“I’ll see what I can do,” and her voice was back to its usual strict tone. “For now, Mr. Katsuki. Tempo.”

Their session lasted most of the afternoon, the sun dipping low as they came to a close after hours of metronome instructed exercises and Lilia’s constant reprimands and observations. It felt like Yuuri had run a mental marathon by the time she called the session to a close.

But it was a good feeling, in its own way. He knew he’d hardly have the mental energy to worry about running into Viktor on his way to the bus. To worry about what Lilia really thought of him as a student. It was like a kind of mental static – too exhausted to even bring up coherent thoughts as he slowly packed his sheet music and notes away.

Lilia offered him a few pointers for his practice at home, giving strict instructions for their next session. He bid her farewell and made his way to the door, only to be stopped by the sound of her clearing her throat.

“And, Mr. Katsuki,” she called after him. He turned back toward her and took in her severe silhouette as she stood by the grand, expression unreadable.

“Congratulations,” she said, mouth a hard line, though her eyes seemed … uncharacteristically warm.

Yuuri blinked.

“Congratulations?” he asked quietly.

Congratulations for what?

“Try not to celebrate too much this weekend,” and Yuuri all but choked as he watched Lilia … smile? It was thin, hardly reaching her eyes, but it was a smile nonetheless.

Celebrate?

What on earth—

Yuuri didn’t get the chance to question her, however, as her phone suddenly rang loudly, filling the room with a strange ringtone. Some kind of high staccato singing. She picked it up quickly and waved for him to leave, greeting whoever had called in a stoic manner.

Yuuri hurried out of the room. The whole meeting was quite strange – stranger than his first meeting that still gave him chills when he remembered how cold Lilia had been with him. Despite how exhausted he felt, he couldn’t help but gnaw on the thought in his mind;

Why had she congratulated him?

He was still worrying away at the question when he rounded the corner and came into one of the common areas. It was a large, spacious room with high ceilings – couches and coffee tables huddled in one corner with tables and chairs filling what remained. There were large expanses of wall space taken up by posters and flyers of every kind. It was the main common area at the school – the one where all of the latest news and postings always ended up. Things like simple advertisements for local concerts or gigs that students were involved in. Flyers looking for roommates or accompanists.

But there was also one wall dedicated to official postings. It was a dividing wall that cut through the room, and it was often crowded at this time of year.

Today it was positively crammed with students.

The noise was overwhelming, Yuuri finding himself flinching ever so slightly as he realised how many people he’d have to pass just to get to the exit. There was shouting and screaming, what sounded like someone practicing scales on a clarinet. There was laughter, and as the crowd came into view, Yuuri could see countless people jostling each other for space around the wall.

Yuuri distantly remembered that today was important, though he couldn’t remember why. There must be a posting – parts for the SIM Musical perhaps? Or maybe there’d been new chairs announced for the orchestra?. Yuuri knew none of it would apply to him, however. He hadn’t auditioned in years, preferring to just focus on the orchestra when he needed to. He ducked his head to make sure nobody recognised him, tucking his chin into his scarf and making his way toward the exits.

A familiar voice rang out across the din and he froze in his tracks.

“Yuuri! Yuuri, over here!”

Viktor.

Viktor’s voice.

His legs turned to water the second the realisation hit him, and he barely had the strength to turn towards the sound. He cursed his high-functioning anxiety for choosing to auto-pilot right at that moment. He wanted nothing more than to pretend he hadn’t heard him and bolt for the doors, but his body seemed to move on its own. Wooden and puppeteered by years of trying to appear normal in social situations. Not to mention the uncomfortable flip his heart did in his chest that took control of his pulse quickly.

He turned to see Viktor standing at the front of the crowd, shouldering his way through and making his way towards him with a beaming grin lighting up his features. It almost hurt to look at. Like staring straight into the sun.

Yuuri figured Viktor must be greeting him out of pity. He could see a few of the school’s best and brightest hanging near where Viktor was standing by the posting wall, so it was unsettling to see Viktor prying himself away from his elite friends, focussed on Yuuri instead. Christophe Giacometti, the school’s top double bassist, stood out instantly, his curly blonde hair all too visible in the sea of browns and blacks. He was one of Viktor’s closest friends, Yuuri knew, and the man seemed to be shouting something after Viktor, though his voice was lost as someone blasted a note on a trombone nearby.

“Congratulations, Yuuri!” Viktor cried, breaking free of the crowd and all but running over to him. The uneasiness of Lilia’s words returned with full force.

Congratulations for what?

“V—Viktor,” Yuuri said in a small voice by way of a greeting, though it sounded more like a question, a deep sense of dread beginning to work it’s way into his chest. He hadn’t spoken with Viktor since their last practice – hadn’t replied to the one text message he’d sent. He hadn’t even opened it, too petrified of what it might entail to even read the opening line. Viktor would surely be offended at Yuuri’s silence. It had been just over a week since their practice, after all.

“I’m so thrilled you decided to audition in the end,” Viktor said breathlessly, rearranging his shirt after being tossed around in the crowd. He stood just slightly too close, eyes bright as he watched Yuuri with all the excitement of a child.

Wait…

Audition?

“Wh—what?” Yuuri’s voice came out as a strangled squeak as he felt himself grow pale. Audition? As in—?

But before he could finish the thought, another familiar voice rang out across the room. He turned to see Phichit, red-faced and gasping for air as he all but sprinted toward Yuuri from the doors on the other side of the room, saxophone slung precariously across his shoulder, satchel bouncing against his hip as he ran.

“Yuuri my love!” He all but screamed, crashing into Yuuri with full force, crushing him in a hug. Yuuri barely had time to register Viktor clearing his throat behind him, crying out as Phichit tackled him.

“I’m so sorry! Did you find out already? Shit! I can’t believe I missed it! All that work for nothing,” and around Phichit’s senseless rambling Yuuri managed to gasp a few confused words and worm his way out of the hug.

“Phichit, what on earth is going on—?” but there was another strong grip on his shoulder that froze the words in his throat, Yuuri crying out in shock as he spun around. It was Otabek – the Otabek, from their practice session. And he was standing over him, clapping him on the back, face stoic as he nodded. The man offered a thumbs up, blinking once, not saying a word, before walking past him toward the exit. Yuuri watched him wide-eyed and more confused than ever as Otabek wandered toward a small figure with a guitar slung over his back.

Toward Yuri. The other Yuri. With blonde hair peeking out from a black hoodie, leopard print across its back. The smaller man glanced back to him with piercing eyes, waving at him in a way that seemed almost … friendly?

It was all too much. Why were they all here? Why was Yuri waving at him? Why was Viktor bouncing up and down where he stood, Phichit running his mouth like a stream?

Why was everyone so excited?

“Phichit,” Yuuri’s voice was weak, breaking ever so slightly as that same sense of dread bloomed into full-blown fear. “What's going on?”

“Huh?” Phichit glanced at him worriedly, stopping his rambling as he took in Yuuri’s expression, though he still had a ridiculously wide grin plastered on his face. “What do you mean?”

“Why is everyone congratulating me?” Yuuri whispered, eyes darting nervously between his best friend and Viktor as they stood, watching him like he was the only person in the world who didn’t know…

“Oh, Yuuri…” Phichit’s eyes grew wide, his feet shuffling as he took a tentative step closer, hand reaching out instinctively. “It’s okay, don’t—“

“What did he mean by audition, Phichit?” Yuuri said distantly, the light from the wide windows flashing off his glasses, eyes hidden.

Phichit swallowed.

“Yuuri, I need you to take deep breaths,” Phichit said slowly, two hands out now. Wary.

“What did you do?” Yuuri all but whispered, feeling his stomach threaten to drop to the floor. Surely not. Surely Phichit would never…

“Well,” Phichit swallowed again, rubbing the back of his neck and throwing Viktor a desperate look. “You know that, ah, project? The video one?”

“You didn’t,” Yuuri breathed, taking a small step backwards as his legs threatened to give way. He could fit the pieces together easily enough. The video project. An audition. All the strange secrecy and vague answers.

“I may or may not have,” and Phichit’s eyes were concerned. Fearful. But there was that typical sparkle of mischief and excitement that – in any other circumstance – would have won Yuuri over.

But this was…

“Wait, what’s going on?” Viktor asked cheerily, face slightly confused as he glanced between the two friends. He spoke like someone at ease with slotting himself into conversations, and Yuuri found himself marvelling at the social confidence, despite it all.

“Ah, I’m a terrible friend,” Phichit said with an exasperated smile. “I filmed our practice the other day and sent it to Yakov by way of an audition.”

Yuuri felt like all of the words were coming at him from a great distance – like he’d suddenly slipped into a well, sound and light having trouble reaching his senses. Audition. Practice. Yakov. Film…

“Yuuri please, hear me out,” Phichit said quickly. “I knew you’d never have the balls to audition on your own and now the hard part’s out of the way! You were accepted!”

Yuuri blinked.

“No I wasn’t,” he whispered matter-of-factly, shaking his head ever so slightly. He couldn’t have been accepted, it must have been some kind of mistake.

“But you were, Yuuri!” Viktor said with a dazzling grin, eyes bright as he reached and gripped Yuuri by the shoulders. The touch sent flames licking along Yuuri’s veins, and if it weren’t for Viktor’s strong grip, he knew he would have fallen right then and there.

“Come and see!” and he was suddenly being whisked through the crowd, bodies pressing against him tightly as Viktor reached down to hold his hand, tugging him along after him like a kite, Phichit trailing behind with a steadying hand on his back.

They made their way to the posting wall, faces crammed towards the small piece of paper pinned to the centre of the board.

It read, in a simple non-descript font:

2016 Institute Band Members

Saxophones

Alto: Phichit Chulanont

Tenor1: Guang Hong Ji

Tenor2: Leo De La Iglesia

Trumpets

1st: Jean-Jaques Leroy

2nd: Sara Crispino

3rd: Seung-gil Lee

Trombones

1st: Emil Nikola

2nd: Michele Crispino

Rhythm

Double Bass: Christophe Giacometti

Guitar: Yuri Plisetsky

Percussion: Otabek Altin

Piano: Yuuri Katsuki

Vocalists

Viktor Nikiforov

Mila Babicheva

Practice this Thursday, March 16th, 6pm sharp

- Yakov Feltsman

Yuuri felt the ground fall away beneath him.

“Yuuri? Yuuri!” Phichit managed to catch him as he fell, holding his shoulders firmly and giving them a slight shake.

Yuuri distantly registered that Viktor was still holding him by the hand…

“It can’t be real,” Yuuri whispered, attempting to steady himself. Yakov had seen him practice – had seen his lack-lustre playing with Viktor and Yuri and Otabek there to outshine him at every turn. Had seen it and …

Accepted him?

“I can assure you, it’s real,” Viktor said with a smile, and as Phichit helped Yuuri stay on his feet, Yuuri noticed that Viktor was smiling at him warmly. But his eyes were … troubled? He seemed to be searching Yuuri’s face, trying to figure something out…

“I’m … sorry,” Yuuri managed to squeeze out, heart clenching painfully as he realise that Vikor was probably disappointed. Probably angry that Yuuri had run him around. “I’m sorry I caused you so much trouble…”

And Viktor’s face fell into a mask of confusion, brows knitting together as those piercing blue eyes continued to search Yuuri’s face. Despite the raucousness of the room, Yuuri couldn’t help but feel himself getting lost in them. Reminded of their first practice session at Minako’s studio…

And Viktor seemed to be about to say something, eyes fervent as he wet his lips, but a hand on Viktor’s shoulder had him turning around before he could speak.

“Congratulations, everyone!” a lilting voice cut across the crowd. Christophe Giacometti. He was about the same height as Viktor, leaning in to offer a knowing smile to Yuuri and Phichit as he joined their little circle at the front of the crowd, pressed close together.

“It’ll be nice to finally have some … fresh meat,” and Yuuri watched on in horror as Christophe licked his lips, eyes heavy-lidded. He seemed to be directing his flirting towards Phichit, who took it in his stride easily.

“I do hope you’re gentle with me,” and he laughed, light and easy. Of course. It was all so easy for him. For everyone.

Yuuri found himself running down the list again, taking in every name and feeling his heart stutter uncomfortably in his chest when he saw his own name nestled among them. He knew them all – all accomplished musicians. All ridiculously talented. All self-assured and socially confident and…

“Let’s get a drink to celebrate!” Christophe exclaimed, wrapping an arm effortlessly around Viktor’s shoulder.

Oh.

Yuuri took in the gesture and felt a strange twist in his gut.

“Yes!” Phichit jumped on the spot, pumping his fist and letting out another giggle of excitement. Yuuri reached for Phichit’s sleeve, tugging ever so slightly to get his attention. No. Not drinking…

Phichit seemed to notice, chewing on his lower lip and leaning in to try and speak with him in confidence.

“Come on, Yuuri,” Phichit whispered behind his hand, making eyes at him that made Yuuri feel guilty and angry and... “I know you’re freaking out right now but trust me. This will do you the world of good,” and before Yuuri could protest, Phichit suddenly creased his brow and gave him a pleading look, eyes darting back to Christophe pointedly, who was now chatting away with a few of the other members who had gathered around them.

Yuuri took the hint. Phichit had had a crush on Chris for as long as Yuuri had had a crush on Viktor. Of course, Phichit would want to take up the opportunity to go out drinking with him.

In the whirl of emotions and shock and terror that started to simmer just under Yuuri’s skin, Yuuri found himself helpless when he saw Phichit’s expression. When he turned and saw Viktor’s expression, wrapped in Chris’ arms and gazing after him…

Hopefully?

“Oh do come, Yuuri,” Viktor said gently, eyes warm, mouth set in a soft smile. “At least let me buy you a drink to apologise.”

Yuuri furrowed his brow and moved to speak; “Apologise?” But the words were lost as his voice broke and Chris let loose a loud laugh. There was another tall man with a trumpet case in hand – Jean-Jaques, Yuuri distantly recalled – talking with him. Was he coming too?

Yuuri felt like he was drowning. Everyone wanted to celebrate. All smiles and laughter and loud, loud, loud.

And between Phichit’s desperate puppy dog eyes and Viktor’s piercing blue stare, Yuuri found himself nodding, though everything screamed at him to run.

#symphony #minminnsfics #fic #music school AU #alternate universe #AO3 #fan fiction #yuri on ice #yoi

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