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Phichit is just under a month shy of 18 when he boards the plane to America, an acceptance letter to a university in Detroit in one hand, and a contract with a new coach (Celestino, he reminds himself, Celestino Cialdini) in the other. He's leaving everything he knows behind, but it's a necessary sacrifice: he's going to re-write history for southeast Asian skaters, after all, and he knows he's come as far as his current - no, his old - coach can take him. He's lucky Celestino took an interest in him, even if he didn't make the podium at Worlds.
He's lucky, too, that America at least speaks English. His is broken, accented, learned from basic lessons in grade school and furthered in international competitions, but it's enough for him to get by. He hopes.
He’s not worried, though, not really. He makes friends easily - he's always made friends easily, and even if for once he doesn't, it won't matter. Most of his time is going to be spent on the ice, skating, anyways.
It would be a lie to say he sleeps the entire plane ride, but he does sleep for most of it, waking up only to eat the meals that left much to be desired, and to watch a couple of the in-flight movies. They don’t have the King and the Skater, which is a real tragedy in the 17 year-old’s mind, but he makes do anyways.
When he lands in Detroit, it's 2pm and Phichit is wide awake. He takes out his phone, connects to the airport WiFi so he can snap a picture for his instagram (#America #HereICome) and shoot his mother a message to let her know he’s landed, and sets out to find his bags and his coach.
Celestino hands Phichit a new phone and helps him grab his bags, and then they’re off, on the way to his new apartment and already chattering away, Phichit needling his coach with questions about the rink, training, his apartment, his roommate. Celestino seems more than content in answering his questions, and Phichit finds himself grinning as he watches the city pass by his window.
He learns that there's a shuttle that will take him from the apartment to campus, that the rink is only a ten minute walk away, that his roommate one of the other skaters under Celestino, who's a few years older than Phichit is and from Japan, that training begins at 7:30 sharp every morning, except Saturdays which becomes their “day off” so to speak.
An hour or so later (traffic is hell, Celestino has been grumbling about it for ages), they make it to the apartment.
It’s a studio, and Phichit finds himself thinking that it looks a little more like the hotels he’s stayed in for competition than what he was expecting, but it’s perfect all the same. A half-wall separates the kitchen from the rest of the apartment, and just beyond that is the bathroom, and then - there. There are two beds pushed against opposite walls, both partially obscured by the tall desks that stand at the foot of them, creating a sort of barrier between the beds and the rest of the room. There’s a tv, a game console, and standing awkwardly in the middle of it all is a bespeckled man who’s shooting Phichit a shy smile as he rubs the back of his neck.
With a grin, Phichit strides up to him, sticks out his hand, and says, ”Hey! I’m Phichit.”
He’s pretty damn sure that’s the moment his life decides to change forever.
The routine is easy to fall into. Phichit has made it his goal to make his roommate more comfortable around him, so he starts by doing everything with him. To an extent, at least - he doesn’t follow Yuuri into the shower or anything, and is usually at the rink with Celestino while Yuuri’s in class, but otherwise he does his best. Drags Yuuri out to dinner with him when he decides he’s too lazy to cook, out to movies, out to the park, for a run. It’s his goal to make Yuuri laugh, to make him relax a bit, and it takes time (he’s learning just how shy his roommate is), but Phichit’s determined it’s worth it.
It’s a never ending list, really, but there’s two key moments that stick out to Phichit.
The first time is when he sees Yuuri skate, really actually skate, not just the goofing off Phichit is prone to do when Celestino’s out on a coffee run. He looks like he thinks no one’s watching - and maybe he doesn’t, because Phichit was running late today and Celestino is nowhere to be found - and, well, it’s just awe inspiring.
Yuuri looks more at home than Phichit has ever seen him, it’s like he’s speaking to the ice - or, rather, like the ice is moving him itself. It’s nothing fancy, a few simple step-sequences, but Yuuri’s not jumping, he’s not even trying a double, and yet Phichit is entranced.
It’s the way he moves, the story he tells with his body, Phichit decides as his grey eyes follow his rinkmate around, unable to do anything more than marvel as the older skater glides so gracefully over the ice, his arms arching in perfection, choreography just so and just so. He thinks back on all the competitions he’s watched, at how closely he’s followed the one and only Viktor Nikiforov and admired his skates, and wonders how he managed to miss Yuuri’s.
There is something magical about the way Yuuri skates. It has to be magic, has to be.
When Yuuri finishes the rough routine he was doing, standing in the middle with his head tilted back and arms stretched behind him, Phichit can’t stop himself from clapping.
Maybe Yuuri looks a little embarrassed, but when grey eyes meet amber and Phichit claps harder, he’s certain that the smile that grows on his roommate’s face is filled with pride, too.
The second is when he finds out Yuuri’s never seen his favorite movie.
”You WHAT?” He’s certain his expression is a mask of horror, but he only finds himself feeling a little guilty when Yuuri flinches.
”I’ve - I’ve never seen it. ‘The King and the Skater’? What’s it about?”
”We are fixing this. Right now.”
They make a night of it. Order pizza, set up the couch with blankets and pillows and spend an hour looking for the hdmi cord before giving up and retreating back to the beds. Yuuri makes hot cocoa (because even in April, it’s chilly in Detroit), and they sit shoulder-to-shoulder on Yuuri’s bed, computer propped in front of them as the movie plays.
Phichit’s seen it a thousand times already, he knows every word by heart, and it’s tough to not sing along when Shall we Skate comes on, but he’s determined that his roommate gets the full impact of the movie, so he zips his lips and loses himself in the story.
The moment the movie’s over, Phichit closes the computer and turns so look at Yuuri expectantly. The japanese man is still squinting at the computer, and Phichit can slowly feel disappointment growing in his gut. The silence goes on. And on.
Finally, Phichit can’t stand it anymore, and he prods Yuuri’s side with a nervous finger, eliciting a squeak from the older man. ”So? So?” He demands, unwilling to admit that he’s worried. ”Did you like it or did you love it?”
”I… I guess it was okay…”
Immediately Phichit feels his face fall, the disappointment growing and - oh god are those tears he can feel building up? But then Yuuri takes a look at his face and starts laughing and Phichit finds the tears stunned away, a flicker of hurt crossing his face, and Yuuri’s apologizing but Phichit is confused and then -
”I loved it, I really did. I just - I’m sorry I couldn’t - the moment was too perfect and you were so into it I had to - Sorry! I didn’t mean to --” The man is gasping for breath as he speaks, broken off only when Phichit flings himself at the other, pulling him close for a hug- he liked it, Yuuri liked it! - that quickly turned into revenge in the form of tickles, and then into an all-out war that had them both screeching with laughter until they rolled off the bed, landing with a painful thunk on the floor.
It’s the moment that solidifies their friendship, and just to make sure Yuuri knows too, Phichit takes a selfie and tags him in it.