Chapter Text
Victor couldn’t stop smiling since he woke up.
Scratch that, Victor couldn’t stop smiling since he went to his mailbox and found a new letter from Yuuri.
It had only been a week since he sent off his package and he had impatiently waited for a response. He had memorized the schedule of his local mail delivery - there would be a mail delivery at six in the morning and a package delivery at four in the afternoon - and all but camped outside his mailbox in anticipation.
As the days passed, he wondered if he would even receive a letter in return. By day five, he had all but lost hope that Yuuri would respond. After all, the letter was only for a class assignment and he had no obligations to continue their conversation. Yuuri could have easily take Victor's letter and tossed it in the nearest trash can, never go think of him again.
He was unsure how Yuuri would react to his letter. Would he like the gifts? Did he even like chocolates? Was his English even good enough? His doubtful thoughts seemed to invade his mind, eating away at any possible notion that Yuuri liked his letter - or rather his overly expensive package.
Victor never felt this way before, especially not over something so trivial as a response to a handwritten letter that was just for an assignment. He had never hesitated before, always accomplishing his goals confidently. His stomach twisted, threatening to expel the bile that collected in his throat.
Albeit, it was the first letter he had written in a while. In all honesty, it was probably the first handwritten letter he had ever personally sent. He had always preferred to call or email (or had his public relations assistant take care of the situation) so he had to make this letter perfect.
He had eagerly opened his rustic mailbox - a rusted gold with hinges that were obviously broken and definitely needed to be updated - hoping Yuuri’s letter had been included in today’s delivery. On top of a pile of junk mail was a white envelope with his address handwritten in a cute block letters.
It was so unbecoming, borderline immature, how happy he was to receive another letter from his pen pal. It was especially ironic seeing how much he complained about being forced to do the assignment in the first place. Just two weeks ago, Yakov had forcibly signed all of his skaters up for a pen pal program to improve their English. He lectured about how important English was for their careers and that somehow writing letters to students in the United States would be a good way to practice.
At first, Victor saw it as a distraction or punishment from Yakov - Yakov often punished him for misbehaving. He had even gone as far as to beg his coach to not be included. He simply couldn’t afford to waste time with writing English when he could be practicing his routines for the season; his English was good enough for interviews, anyways. Surely his coach could understand that his career came first; after all, he did preach about how important it was to stop wasting time on his phone and practice more.
However, Yakov was relentless. Even after Victor had ignored his studies and officially dropped out of school to pursue skating, his coach insisted that he continue with English studies, at the very least. He wouldn’t have his skaters embarrass him with poor etiquette.
He was all about to forget about the assignment until he received his first letter from Yuuri. Something about his enthusiasm and down-to-Earth personality that made Victor rather intrigued. He wanted to know everything there was to know about Yuuri.
He looked down at the letter, glancing at his name in neat Cyrillic. He hardly had time to open the letter, lest be late to his morning practice. He usually didn’t care if he was late - he often strolled in hours past his scheduled time, earning himself a lecture from his coach - but he wanted to refine his routines before the official start of the season. There were obvious flaws in his routine and he most certainly needed the extra time to perfect the step sequences to enhance the overall performance score. However, that meant he would be forced to bring his letter along on his ten minute walk to the rink if he wanted to read it before practice.
Victor unlocked the doors to the private section of the rink before pushing the doors open. It was early, far earlier than Victor had been to the rink in years. The soft rays of the morning sun streamed from the large windows the rink, illuminating the rink in a warm pink glow.
He hoped that nobody even arrived this early and he could enjoy a quiet few minutes with Yuuri’s letter before he could be distracted by the commotion of the rink. However, he didn’t seem that fortunate to have the rink to himself.
Yuri Plisetsky, the self proclaimed ‘Ice Tiger of Russia’ and current Junior Champion had somehow arrived before Victor. He was the only junior skater at his rink but he was certainly one of the most talented. He had won the title last year and there was an extremely high chance he would win again this year. Or at least Yakov thought so, Victor didn't exactly pay mind to any other skaters.
However, there was something inherently different about Yuri. He supposed Yuri reminded him of himself during his Junior years: eager yet stubborn. He had even attempted quadruple jumps, despite Yakov's protests about his body being too young. Yuri had his own enthralling charm to him that even Victor couldn’t quite explain. His movements were calculated and fluid, borderline perfect, so it was no wonder that Yakov accepted him into the rink well before his senior debut.
Not to mention that he was beautiful, in every meaning of the word. He had short blond hair that extended past his ears, curling around his round face. His eyes were a radiant shade of green that could rival even the most expensive of emeralds. He was still rather young, as evident by his slender shoulders and round cheeks, but he was one of the only people at the rink Victor thought he could truly consider his friend.
"Oh, Yuri!" Victor announced.
Yuri ignored Victor, not even looking up as he completed another loop around the rink. He was doing his obligatory warm up laps, something Victor often skipped in favour of sleeping in later. He knew he should warm up as well - he often lectured to about how warming up was important - but with so many years of experience, he failed to see how an extra few minutes could sincerely improve his performance. Unlike Yuri, he wasn’t a junior anymore.
“I got a letter!” Victor declared, louder this time.
"What? Who's sending you mail? Some fan you knocked up?" Yuri asked, finally acknowledging Victor. He stopped his warm up laps and skated towards the edge of the rink. He brushed up bits of slush as he halted to a stop near the exit of the rink.
Victor scowled, not appreciating Yuri's comment. He knew outsiders often saw him as an eligible bachelor who could not be tied down to anyone. They often spread rumors about him with any person he made eye contact with, fooling around with every skater in the Grand Prix before tossing them aside for his next victim. But his rink mates knew better than to see him as so shallow. Truth be told, was saving his virginity for someone special.
So it hurt all the same knowing that his only friend at the rink thought so lowly of him.
"No! It's from my pen pal!” he said, completely ignoring Yuri’s comment.
He supposed someone had to be mature in this situation. Sure, he could have screamed at his friend, argued with Yuri until his throat was dry. Instead, he chose to ignore Yuri's comment altogether. He wouldn't let his negativity spoil his lovely mail. Today was supposed to be a celebration for Victor and he certainly wasn’t going to let an angsty teenager ruin his fun.
“His name is Yuuri too!"
"There can't be two Yuris," Yuri huffed. He crossed his arms over his chest, much like a child who didn't get what they wanted. He supposed he couldn't blame Yuri; he was the youngest person at his rink, after all. He had moved from his home rink to St. Petersburg the age of 10 and even dropped out of school to focus all of his energy on skating. Yuri wasn't even fifteen and was already the Junior World Champion.
“But his name has two ‘U’s.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Victor smirked.
"Then I'll call you Yura."
"I'm not Yura," Yuri protested.
Victor tapped his index finger to his lips in thought. It was a reflexive habit - a habit he had developed over his childhood and one he had yet to completely break. He supposed the tapping could be seen as endearing and took no effort to change his instinctual quirk.
"How about Yurio?" Victor suggested, knowing fully well how angry this name would make the junior skater. Only his grandfather was allowed to call him pet names and to everyone else he was Yuri. Not Yura or Yuratchka or The-Fairy-Of-Russian-Skating. Just Yuri.
Victor assumed it was a rebellious way to seem more mature than he was. It wasn’t uncommon to see teenagers wanting to rebel and Victor too found his temper to be less than endearing when he was younger. Although, he knew better than to assume that Yuri’s behavior was a mere product of teenage angst. He supposed the younger skater’s disdain was some sort of roundabout way of showing his affection. Regardless, he knew such a nickname would surely elicit some sort of reaction from the younger skater.
"You're an idiot," he muttered under his breath.
Victor rolled his blue eyes at Yuri's retort.
"Why are you so angry? Are you jealous?" Victor asked.
He leaned in over the banister, his face mere centimeters from Yuri's. He could see every small change in Yuri's expression. His eyes wavered slightly and his lips curling into a frown: all the telltale signs of jealousy. The small tremors in his hands all but confirmed Victor’s suspicions.
"I'm not jealous over something so stupid!" he protested. It was painfully obvious that despite his complaints, he secretly was jealous. Whether it was of Victor's pen pal or Victor himself, he couldn't be quite sure. Victor straightened his back, trying to intimidate Yuri with his mere height over the younger boy.
"Didn't you get a letter?" he asked with fake innocence. He knew Yuri was - albeit unwillingly - forced into participating in the pen pal program as well. Yuri must not have received a letter in return, not that he blamed with pen pal for ignoring him.
"I did," Yuri admitted.
He nonchalantly leaned on the banister, distributing his weight from his skates to the back of the boards. It was poor posture to do such, and he hoped for Yuri's sake that Yakov didn't happen to catch him slouching, but he didn't seem to care.
"I just threw mine in the trash."
Victor audibly gasped, his hand covering his mouth theatrically. "That's so mean! What if they were looking forward to hearing from you?"
Victor couldn't imagine that someone would be so heartless as to throw out a handwritten letter. Sure, it had been for an assignment Yakov had signed them up for as a way to learn English, but it still felt wrong to throw out something so precious. Somebody had went through the effort to write a letter (in a foreign language no less) and now it sat in a heaping pile in a garbage centre ready to be compiled in a landfill. He couldn't imagine if Yuuri had done that to him.
"Shut up, Victor! I don't need your guilt. Just open your letter and leave me alone!”
He grabbed for his water that teetered on the edge of the boards, taking a swig from the plastic bottle. It was almost endearing to see Yuri so distraught (much like a child who was having a fit), but Victor knew better than to comment on how adorable he looked when he was angry.
"Alright," Victor agreed with little resistance.
He pulled out his set of keys from the front pocket of his trench coat. There were at least four different set of keys alongside two key chains with pictures of his precious dog. He picked out an old key to his locker that was beginning to dull before grazing its edge under the flaps of the envelope. He was careful not to ruin the neat packaging Yuuri's letter came in, hoping that he could preserve every little thing from Yuuri.
Victor noticed the envelope was tightly packed, sparing no empty space in the small envelope. There was a simple letter neatly folded with a small bag of treats taped to the side. He couldn’t exactly tell if the contents were edible - they were bright pastel colours which often meant they were not for consumption - but he supposed it would be clear once he read the letter. He pulled the letter out, unfolding the edges and smoothing out the page so it was legible.
"It says Dear Viktor . Oh he misspelled my name," he mused aloud.
"Are you really reading this out loud?" Yuri asked with a scowl.
Victor flashed Yuri a fake smile, the one he had perfected after years of spending endless time in the spotlight. The one where his lips were upturned and only his top teeth were visible.
"Of course," Victor said, trying not to be offended by Yuri.
Yuri was never supportive of Victor's personal life. He would often scoff at his extravagant lifestyle, but never seemed too interested in his daily life. Victor assumed that he wanted nothing to do with him if it wasn't skating related and for that Victor couldn’t tell if it was a blessing or a curse. On the one hand, he wanted to have a personable relationship with Yuri, one that extended further than the rink. Yuri - on most occasions, Victor would argue - was rather pleasurable to be around. On the other, he took solace in Yuri’s indifference towards his personal life. He never asked about Victor’s supposed relationships and never seemed interested in Victor’s rather monotonous routine; and for that, Victor was thankful. He didn’t exactly need his rink mates getting involved in his personal matters since it often ended in some sort of disaster situation. His work life and personal life needed to remain as they were: separate.
Instead, he tried to think of a more lighthearted topic. "What voice should I do for him? What do you think he sounds like?"
Victor's mind immediately tried to conjure a perfect voice for Yuuri. He wondered if his voice was smooth like Georgi’s or high like Yuri’s even gruff like Yakov’s. He immediately ruled out his voice having any resemblance to Yakov’s for fear that he would imagine his coach sending these letters to Victor. He ultimately decided his voice was probably more soft and supple than anything. He knew his voice must be angelic, much like a siren calling a sailor out to sea.
"Maybe you should read it so it's more authentic. You know, from one Yuri to another." Victor thrust the paper into Yuri’s hands. His voice was probably as close to Yuuri’s authentic voice - or the voice Victor imagined for Yuuri - as possible.
Yuri swatted his hand away, leaving a red imprint on the back of Victor's hand.
"Ugh, I'd rather die than read it," he declared dramatically.
"Fine, then I'll just have to continue."
Yuri clicked his tongue but didn't provide any more snarky remarks.
" This letter isn't for credit anymore so I can write in English, if that's okay with you. My Russian is really poor and I would be more comfortable writing in English. Plus, I can even help you with your grammar ."
He turned to Yuri, flashing him a heart-shaped smile. "Yuuri is so thoughtful.”
"Just keep reading so I don't have to listen to you anymore," Yuri demanded.
Victor rolled his eyes. He knew Yuri was just as interested in the letter as he was, latching onto every last detail, even if he did deny it. This would be the most exciting event in Yuri's life aside from the Junior Grand Prix Finals. Okay, maybe that was an overstatement (Yuri probably had other important events in his life), but Yuuri's letter did bring some form of entertainment to Yuri's boring routine. And, if Victor was being honest, Yuuri's letter brought all of the wonder in his own cyclical routine. He would wake up, go to the rink for seven hours, come home, sleep, and repeat the same cycle for years on end. Sure it was monotonous and tedious, but it seemed to suffice.
The cycle only seemed to change during competitions when going to the rink for seven hours was replaced with competing for seven hours.
Now, he had something that could break the monotony. It wasn't much - just a simple letter - but it was enough. He finally had something to look forward to and for the first time, Victor felt alive again.
" I am fluent in Japanese so I can help you. Here are some basic phrases. こんにちは (pronounced kon'nichiwa) means hello.
さようなら (pronounced sayōnara) means goodbye. I don’t really know what else I should teach you. Are there any specific phrases you'd like to know ?"
"Wow Yuuri is so amazing and thoughtful," he gushed.
He clutched the paper close to his heart, hoping that by some miracle the piece of paper could communicate his affection to Yuuri. He wanted nothing more than to hug his pen pal and whisper him praise until he truly believed how wonderful he was.
"You and I must have different concepts about amazing," Yuri muttered under his breath.
"Anyways," he continued, choosing to ignore Yuri's harsh comment. He wouldn't be deterred by a teenager's snide remarks about his new friend. He was probably just jealous because his pen pal wasn't as wonderful as Yuuri was.
" Its funny. That was first time I've written Japanese in a while is for a Russian assignment. Right now, I am far from home but I haven't been back home in four years,”
Victor turned towards Yuri, hoping that comment could draw out some sort of sympathetic response from his rinkmate.
"Four years? Can you imagine?" Victor asked to no one in particular.
He couldn't imagine being away from St. Petersburg for more than a few months. He had grown up in the city and would most likely die in this city, if he were being honest. To know that someone was so far from home, by choice, seemed outrageous to Victor.
"Wouldn't care if you left for four years," Yuri muttered under his breath.
Victor chuckled and rested his head in his hands. This banter - banter directed at Victor - he could happily handle. He knew Yuri's comments towards him were all purely playful. He knew those words held no real malice aside from a petty rivalry Yuri created in his own mind. But as playful as his tone was, he wasn't so sure about his rather rude comments directed at Yuuri. Yuri had no reason to hate Yuuri, aside from an extension of the disdain he had for Victor, Or maybe it some sort of teenage angst that came from him having to grow up too early. Or maybe it was as simple as Yuri being envious that he shared a name with someone else in Victor’s life. Regardless, he had no true reason to say such comments about Victor's pen pal, especially since he didn’t know him aside from a few words in a letter.
" I included a picture of my hometown ."
Victor eagerly reached inside the thick enveloping, grabbing a small Polaroid photo that was included in the envelope. The picture was old and was definitely not from this century judging by its grainy details and poor lighting choice (or maybe it was just some sort of aesthetic that was popular nowadays). Victor noted that the picture must have been taken in spring considering the abundance of pink cherry blossom leaves that scattered the trees and ground. At the center of the photo was a Japanese style castle sitting atop a rolling hillside. The castle had two goldfish creatures on top that Victor could only assume were some sort of decoration which reflected into the water below. It looked like it was straight out of one of those Japanese cartoons his friends watched and tried to convince Victor to join.
Underneath the photo were the words Hasetsu, 1998 followed Japanese characters Victor was unfamiliar with. It was probably a typical Japanese town by the sea - nothing too unique about it aside from the castle - but Victor yearned to visit Hasetsu.
"Look at this place!" he raved. His eyes glazed over the photo, memorizing the smallest details of the picture as if it would the moment his eyes left the photograph. "I want to visit! When I'm in Japan for the Finals, I will visit. Do you think it's close to Fukuoka?"
He wanted nothing more than to see the town for himself, wanted to . He truly hadn't felt this motivated in years, not since his first Olympic Games if he were being honest. His goal had always been to win the Grand Prix Finals for the fifth consecutive time. What better than to do it so close to Yuuri’s hometown?
"Who says you'll make it this year," Yuri pointed out.
Victor scoffed at that. He knew Yuri was just trying to rile up the older skater. He had made the Final since he was a Junior, medalling at all of his senior competitions with gold medals at four. There was absolutely no reason he wouldn't make it this year. He was the current champion, after all.
However, there was a growing feeling that Yuri could be right. His routines didn't seem to have the same passion in them as when he had first started skating. It was entirely possible that last season could have been his peak. Nobody had expected a twenty six year old to break world records; many skaters never even made it past twenty five competitively before retiring.
There was a chance that he wouldn’t make it to the finals. He could easily get injured, one wrong move could force him into early retirement like so many other skaters who had continued long last their prime. Or maybe the judges could hate his new performances claiming it to be uninspired and grade him low on his execution. Or maybe he would get fed up with being in the spotlight and simply quit before the competitions even began.
He quickly erased those negative thoughts from his mind. He knew he had to make it to the finals.
"Now I have a reason to work extra hard! I can see where Yuuri's from when I make it!"
"Isn't that a bit creepy? You don't even know him."
Victor blinked twice. He hadn't even thought about how he must have sounded to anyone else. He wanted to visit a town in the middle of nowhere Japan just because someone who had talked to him lived there at one point. He was all about to give up ice skating to meet some guy he barely knew. But he did know him, a bit. He knew he was sweet and thoughtful and absolutely alluring. He wanted nothing more than to meet him, just once.
"But I want to! I want to know everything about him. He sounds so cool from his letters."
Victor was truly in awe over Yuuri. No one else was able to capture his attention for as long as he had. In just two letters, he felt like he knew Yuuri. He could tell Yuuri was rather shy but had his own inviting appeal. He knew that he liked dogs and knew three different languages. Not to mention that he wrote the most beautiful letters he would ever receive.
"Don't get your hopes up. He's probably a weirdo or someone trying to scam you." Victor scowled, annoyed that Yuri had assumed anything about his penpal. He had barely listened to half of a letter and already had negative opinions about Yuuri. His pen pal was nothing but kind and it was a shame Yuri couldn’t see it the same way he did.
"If he was, do you think he would a send me candy?" Victor asked with a smirk.
"Candy?" Yuri asked, perking up. Yuri had an obvious affinity for candy, or rather anything sweet. It took weeks of Yakov's yelling and help from a dietician to get Yuri to curb his unhealthy eating habits.
"He said: Thank you so much for sending candy. They were very good! I included my favourite candy. It's konpeito . They're little sugar stars. "
Victor took the small bag out from the envelope, examining the contents closely. The packaging was an obnoxiously pastel shade of pink with cartoon animals smiling on the plastic wrapping. Through the clear plastic, Victor could tell the package was filled with sugar cubes that were shaped in jagged stars. It all seemed innocent, albeit a bit unappetizing given its artificial design.
"Wow! I love them!" Victor gushed. "They're adorable!"
He opened the sealed package, pulling out two little stars between his index and middle finger. He placed the pink star on his tongue, savoring the taste of the sugary treat. It wasn't overly sweet as he imagined a sugar cube to be and it was surprisingly mild in flavor with just a hint of strawberry. He popped the other one into his mouth, enjoying the sweet taste of the white coloured star on his tongue. He wasn't able to have anything this delicious in quite some time, his strict training diet forbid him anything unhealthy - or, in his opinion, anything with flavor.
He knew in the back of his mind that he wasn't supposed to eat the treat. His dietitian would surely be disappointed and his coach would surely lecture him for being so careless. Yet in the moment, Victor didn't seem to care about his regiment. Two pieces of candy weren't going to hurt his diet as much as much as his dietician would pretend it did. Besides, he could treat himself once in awhile, especially if that treat was from Yuuri.
"Want one?" Victor asked. He extended his hand, offering Yuri the open package.
He eyed the bag suspiciously. "You won't tell anyone?"
"Not a soul," Victor promised.
Yuri shyly picked a blue star out of the package and placed it in his mouth. He rolled the candy on his tongue, costing his mouth in the artificial taste of the sugary treat.
"It's good," Yuri finally said after swallowing the candy.
"I know." Victor looked down at the bag reluctantly. He wanted to devour the entire bag, wanted to taste the sweet sugar on his lips and imagine it was Yuuri’s lips instead of a sugary treat. However, he refrained.
"Just continue your letter already," Yuri said, his tone lighter than before.
"Right."
Victor cleared his throat. You asked what I like to do in my free time. Mostly I play video games and ice skate ."
Victor's eyes read over the statement again.
Yuuri liked to ice skate.
"Oh my goodness he likes ice skating!" Victor beamed all but fawning over Yuuri's simple response. Sure, it may have been an overreaction to something as simple as saying one likes to ice skate in their free time - and by no means did his statement conclude that he adored professional figure skating at all. For all Victor knew, Yuuri's so called love of ice skating could have been a simple hobby that he had enjoyed in his spare time. Or even just a poor translation on Victor's part which could have meant something entirely different. He tried not to think about how skating could be that brutish hockey sport that all but mocked the true beauty of the ice.
He quickly brushed that thought aside. Yuuri wasn't one to like hockey, at least Victor convinced himself of this.
"It's a match made in heaven," Yuri commented sarcastically.
"I know, right?" Victor gushed, his smile wide and genuine.
"Then go marry him already.”
Victor smirked at that notion. He knew Yuri was just being his usual charming self (and by charming he meant the complete opposite of charming). Nevertheless, he did consider Yuri's outlandish proposition. Marrying Yuuri could be a dream come true. Yuuri was everything Victor wanted in a partner: he was nice, he liked dogs, and he liked figure skating.
It sounded silly - marrying a man he barely knew - but people did that all the time. There was even a ridiculous reality show dedicated to that very premise (not that Victor ever watched The Bachelor in his spare time). And if there was a reality show about something, it definitely couldn't be considered an odd idea at all.
"I bet he'd love to marry Victor Nikiforov," Victor claimed. "Do you think he knows who I am?"
For someone who liked ice skating, it wasn't unreasonable to assume that Yuuri knew who he was. It may sound egotistical, but Victor didn't think anyone didn't know who he was, especially someone who was supposedly interested in skating. He was the Four Time World Champion, Two Time Olympian, and practically a household name around the world. Okay, maybe that was an overstatement, but surely who knew anything about figure skating at least knew his name and watched his routines once or twice.
The thought of Yuuri watching him skate brought an invigorating chill up his spine.
"Who cares. Just finish you letter so I don't have to hear you anymore. I have practice you know."
Victor exhaled but complied. " Anyways, thank you for the plush. It reminded me of my dog ."
He turned to Yuri. "Oh my goodness Yuuri he has a poodle too!"
"Or a generic brown dog," the younger skater pointed out.
Victor shook his head. Leave it to Yuri to be pessimistic about everything.
"Nope. It has to be a poodle! Poodles have curly hair," he reminded his younger rink mate.
"Good for him. Now can you please finish the letter?"
" It was nice talking to you. I look forward to your next letter. From, Yuuri ."
Victor was a tad saddened by the almost abrupt ending of the letter. He admired the ending, his eyes memorizing the way Yuuri signed his name. The Y was curved with towards the bottom, the loop extending around the 'I' like a masterpiece.
"Isn't he wonderful?"
Yuri dramatically placed a finger in his mouth mimicking the motion of gagging. "I swear if you don't shut up about him, I'm gonna vomit."
"Victor! Yuri! Stop playing around and get warmed up!" Yakov shouted as he entered the ice rink.
Victor exhaled as he shoved the letter into the side pocket of his training bag. He wasn’t about to have an argument with his coach so early in the morning.
He unceremoniously dropped his training bag on the bench beside him pulling out his pair of skates. They were rather expensive custom pair but it was a small price to pay to have perfectly sculpted skates. The boot was rather boring to look at: a basic black shoe save for the small Russian decal. The most interesting aspect was the gold blade that accentuated the bottom of the skates which we a tad tacky but Victor didn’t seem to care. Personally, he liked how different they were from everyone else’s basic skates.
He slid his foot into the boot, wiggling his toes to make sure the skate was on correctly. He laced up the skates before teetering over to the ice, carefully balancing himself. He placed his right foot on the ice, basking in the comfort of how effortlessly he seemed to glide on the ice.
He began with an elementary loop around the outside of the rink, acclimating himself to the conditions of the ice. It was still rather fresh, not yet cut up and full of slush but still a fair bit torn by Yuri’s rather aggressive skating.
He thought about how Yuuri would like the privacy of such a rink seeing as he was probably used to the terrible conditions of a public rink. He couldn’t even imagine how anyone could skate on such horrible conditions.
Victor pushed those thoughts aside as he finished his first lap around the rink. He easily passed Yuri who was stretching his leg on the boards as began to gain speed. He could show Yuri how a true senior ice skater warmed up. He extended his right foot forward pushing himself off his right foot, and turning his body in four rotations.
However, he found himself landing on the ice before he could complete the fourth rotation.
Victor exhaled, his breath a bit strained. He hadn't fallen during a quadruple flip since his injury almost ten years ago and even then it was due to his sprained ankle. He supposed he was getting older and his body would no longer be able to perform such jumps. He only hoped that nobody noticed his fall.
Victor gathered himself off the ice, brushing off a few pieces of ice that clung to his black clothing. He needed some water, a snack, and maybe the entire day off. He certainly wasn’t in the mindset to continue skating.
"What the fuck was that?"
Victor winced. He was hoping Yuri was too busy with his own stretches to notice such a fail. He certainly didn’t need a Junior skater to comment on two much of a failure that jump was.
"That was terrible,” he continued.
"Such praise,” he replied, brushing past the younger skater. He grabbed for his guards, placing the teal and blue plastic over his gold blade.
"You popped your quad flip! You're lucky Yakov’s on the phone and didn't see that fucking disaster."
It hurt but Victor knew Yuri's harsh words were true.
"I'm distracted. I can't think straight," he confessed in a quiet voice.
“Distracted? Who are you? Georgi?” Yuri asked with a scoff.
Victor exhaled. He knew his infatuation with Yuuri wasn’t that bad, not nearly enough to be compared to Georgi’s obsession with his previous girlfriend. However, it wasn’t like Victor to be distracted. He had never been this careless before but it seemed no matter how hard he tried, his mind continued to dwell on his pen pal.
"What should I write back?"
"Why are you bothering me with this?"
"I'm going to get a snack. Tell Yakov I'll be back,” Victor decided.
He easily exited the ice, heading towards the vending machines on the far side of the rink. They were usually off limits to professional skaters, seeing as they were filled with sugary snacks, but Victor didn’t seem to care. He supposed the snack could clear his mind of any negative thoughts as well as provide a decent gift for Yuuri.
"What? You can't just leave,” Yuri protested. He followed after Victor, wobbling on the ground without his blade guards.
"I have to pick something up,” Victor said as if it were the most obvious statement in the world.
"What are you doing?”
Victor ignored Yuri and reached into his front pockets for any loose change. He shoved a few crumpled rubles into the machine. He easily clicked on A2 (a raspberry flavoured protein bar) and B7 (a package of ptichye moloko).
"You know you can't have candy. Yakov will kill you if he finds out you're eating shit right before the season."
He watched as the two treats fell to the bottom of the machine. He picked both treats out of the vending machine, taking them in his arms. "It's not for me."
"For fucks sake. That's what has you distracted? That fucking letter."
"Yes. I don't know what I should get him."
"Don't get him anything. Why waste your money."
Victor rolled his eyes.
"Because I'm a nice person, unlike some people," he quipped.
"Unlike some people, I put my career before a kid I met through a letter!"
"I'm not letting him affect my career,” he gritted through his teeth.
"Oh really?"
Victor paused, biting his lower lip.
"Cause to me, it looks like your distracting thoughts made you flub your signature move. Get over him before he ruins you like how Eva ruined Georgi last year,” he chastised.
"Don't you have a routine to practice" he asked, deflecting Yuri's comment. He didn’t want to admit Yuri might have been right.
"You're not listening to me."
Of course Victor wasn’t listening to him; he was making false accusations about Yuuri.
He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. He wanted nothing more than to slap that smug grin off of Yuri's smug face, even if it did mean hurting a minor.
He crossed his arms over his chest, locking them right above his stomach. "I don't have to listen to you.”
"Don't say I didn't warn you."
Victor paused, turning on his heel. He bent down, his eyes level with Yuri’s. He wouldn't let his friend be talked about this way by a fourteen year old who didn't have the slightest idea about Yuuri. Victor finally had something besides ice skating that made him happy. Was that enough?
"Yuuri isn't sabotaging my career," he said, his voice dark. He straightened from his position, easily towering over the Junior skater. “He's helping me. And I should help him in return. I should give him something from Russia. What do you think?"
"Oh, now you want my opinion?"
"How about a matryoshka?" he asked, his tone light once more.
"That's cliche as hell."
"You're right. How about I get him something ice skating related.”
"You're still talking to me? Go annoy someone else.”
Victor looked around the rink, hoping to find someone else who could relate to him. He could always complain to Yakov but he was certain he would only chastise him for not practicing like he was supposed to. He could have easily called up his friend Christophe but he supposed it might have been too early to bother him with something so trivial. Lucky for him, one of the other skaters had walked in.
"Mila, Yuri is being mean to me," Victor complained.
"Don't drag Mila into this," Yuri argued.
"Drag me into what?" Mila asked.
Mila Babicheva was one of the new female skaters training under Yakov. Victor didn’t know much about her aside from her very impressive skating record; and if he was being honest, he didn’t need to know much more. This year would be her second year in the senior division but Victor had no doubt she would continue for many seasons. She had won silver at the World Championship, losing only to the reigning champion Sara Chrispino.
Victor knew she had her own sort of charm. She wasn’t built like most traditional female ice skaters: she tended to keep her red hair short and her muscles toned. But despite her unconventional appearance, she was sophisticated and graceful on the ice. Truth be told, Victor admired her for that.
"Victor got a letter from his pen pal," Yuri explained.
"That's so sweet!" Mila gushed.
Her enthusiasm made Victor's cheeks flush ever so slightly.
"What's the problem?" she asked as she placed her hands on her hips.
"Problem? There's no problem," Victor defended. It was obvious to every that he was flustered by the slight crack in his voice.
"Oh really?" Mila asked arching her eyebrow.
Victor sighed in defeat. He knew he couldn't hide anything from Mila; she would always find out in the end anyways. Besides, he she was very experienced with relationships and could provide him with some useful advice.
"I want to make my letter perfect for him but I don't know how," Victor confessed.
"Alright, I'll have to teach you how to be the best pen pal, after me of course."
"You have a pen pal too?" Victor asked. His eyes sparkled at the mere thought that someone else was sharing the same experience he was. To think that Mila understood how exhilarating it was to send handwritten letters and the absolute torture it was to wait for one in return. Victor couldn’t be more thankful.
"Yeah, Yakov signed me up too," she said, less enthusiastic than Victor expected.
He would have assumed Mila would be ecstatic about joining the pen pal program, but she seemed rather disinterested. He supposed it must have been due to Mila’s poor English skills compared to him.
"I can't pronounce his name though,” she continued. “Phichit. How do you even pronounce that? Phi-cheet? Pi-chart? I don't know. I’m just glad we talk mostly on Instagram now."
"Wow! You got his social media accounts? I'm so jealous!" Victor admitted.
He had wanted to ask Yuuri for his social media accounts seeing as it would be an easier way to talk to his pen pal without waiting for the sluggish mail to deliver. However, something felt entirely wrong using social media platforms to connect with his pen pal. He didn’t exactly feel comfortable including his social media accounts feeling that it would seem like a cheap tactic to gain more followers.
Anyways, he liked remaining anonymous; there was something so genuine about being just ‘Viktor’. Viktor the pen pal could be anyone without the expectations that Victor the world famous ice skater. It seemed more and more that Yuuri was the only person he could be himself around. He wouldn't compromise his anonymity just so he didn’t have to wait as long. Besides, he secretly liked the novelty of receiving handwritten letters.
"What can I say? I'm an expert at making friends," she bragged. She flipped her red hair over her shoulder theatrically.
Victor's eyes widened. Mila would be the perfect person to get advice about writing a letter to Yuuri. He didn’t know why he hadn’t asked before.
"Think you can help me with Yuuri?"
"Of course. Yuuri will be no match for my womanly charms,” she bragged.
Yuri snorted.
“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” Mila asked, turning towards Yuri.
Yuri huffed but walked away regardless.
"Thanks Mila! Let me grab some paper!"
Victor rummaged through his duffel bag, searching through his belongings for his fancy paper. He always kept a few sheets in case fans demanded an autograph, but now he found a better purpose for the paper.
Victor placed the paper on his lap and uncapped his ball point pen. "Okay. I'm ready."
"We'll start with a good introduction. Say something like Dear Yuuri ."
Victor stuck out his tongue. Dear Yuuri was boring and basic, something people wrote to their dying aunt. He needed to write something more dramatic, something that would keep Yuuri invested in writing letters back to him.
"How about My dearest Yuuri ?"
My dearest Yuuri.
Victor liked how that sounded. He wished one day to say those words to him. He wanted to see how his face would flush at the mere compliment, his cheeks turning a bright red shade that would extend to the tips of his ears. He wanted to see how he would sputter incoherently, trying to find the right words to say before planting a kiss on his cheek affectionately. He wondered how his soft, pink lips would feel on brushing against his skin.
"Too much?" he asked, trying to gauge Mila's reaction.
He knew he often came off too strong - much like an excitable dog - especially around people he liked. It often deterred his dates, saying that he wasn't exactly the mysterious bachelor the media dressed him up to be but rather an excitable child that was hardly a compatible romantic partner. He didn't want Yuuri to think he was annoying or irritating.
"No, it's sweet," she assured him with a genuine smile. "But you're missing a comma after dearest."
"Ah, yes. Of course!" he agreed, adding a comma between dearest and Yuuri. "Now what should I say?"
"We’ll just say something about what he sent you."
"Okay."
He unfolded the letter he received from Yuuri, scanning the words in hopes that he could find something to write about.
"I love your hometown. It is very cute! I would love to visit it one day! Also, thank you for candy. It was very sweet. I also got candy. It is coffee flavoured,” he wrote in the neatest handwriting he could muster. He bet Yakov would be proud of his penmanship. Sure, it was a bit uneven and some of the letters were almost illegible in his version of English cursive, but it was the best he could write in a foreign language.
"What should I say now?"
"Ask him all the basic stuff. You know, favourite color, favourite flower, favourite television show?"
Victor agreed with Mila’s reasoning. He should stick basic questions before asking anything too personal. After all, he was curious about Yuuri's favourite colour.
" I want to know everything about you! What is favourite flower? What is favourite color? "
He turned towards Mila, waiting for her approval. "What do you think?"
She glanced down at the paper, scanning over his writing for any minor mistakes. "Sounds good. Now talk about something you like.”
" Also, you like ice skating. I love ice skating! I love feeling cold. I want to skate with you one day ."
He smiled, imaging what it would be like to skate with his pen pal. He imagined Yuuri to be a rather amateur ice skater, and in comparison to Victor everyone was a rather amateur ice skater . He imagined he would have to lace up his rented skates correctly, making sure it was right enough to mold around his foot but not too tight that it would be uncomfortable. The two would take to the ice and he would be amazed by Victor's fluidity, wondering if he was a professional. Victor would perform a simple single jump, just to show off that he was in fact professional. He imagined Yuuri would attempt to copy his waltz jump, claiming the jump could be rather easy, before falling on his bottom. He would be flustered, not giving up until he could land the jump, shaking and wobbling but still landing upright. He would then ask to hold Victor's hand so he couldn’t embarrass himself further as they lazily looped around the ice rink. The two would tear up the ice until the moon would rise and their faces were numb. It would be the perfect first date - or rather meeting, definitely not a romantic date.
“Now end it.”
" Until your next letter.Yours truly, Viktor. "
He wanted to sign his last name, he truly did - he had debated on adding it when he had first written his letter - but a part of him enjoyed the anonymity. He didn't need to live up to anyone's expectations when writing Yuuri a letter. Instead, he could embody the person of Viktor. Viktor was just an average 26 year old Russian who into participating into a pen pal program to improve his poor English.
"It sounds like a love letter," Mila joked, chuckling into her hands.
Victor blinked twice, his eyes scanning over the letter, critiquing his word choice. He may have been a bit too forward by basically inviting him for an ice skating date. And was it really necessary to ask for Yuuri’s favourite flower?
He shook those thoughts from his mind, hoping to forget any notion that he was in love with Yuuri. It was a ridiculous thought, wasn’t it? Loving Yuuri? How absolutely absurd.
Yet every letter seemed to have Victor falling harder for someone an ocean away. He supposed it someone could call it an interest, but his feelings for Yuuri could hardly be simplified as an interest. There was something more passionate, more intimate than a pure interest. Maybe more of an infatuation but that sounded just a bit too obsessive, much like some sort of fanboy obsessing over an idol.
No, Mila was right, it was love.
And as embarrassing as it was to say, he was absolutely smitten by Yuuri. Just the thought him brought a pink hue to his cheeks. It was so cliche, like something out of a high school romance: Victor Nikiforov had a crush on his pen pal.
However, the rational part of his brain reminded him that he barely knew Yuuri aside from a few trivial facts that were hardly indicative of who Yuuri truly was. He had a dog that was probably a poodle, he lived in Japan but was now living in America, and he liked ice skating. That was hardly enough information to say that he surely loved Yuuri. He didn’t know if he wanted to be the big spoon or if he was a virgin or if he was attracted to men at all.
That thought left a sour taste in his mouth. He was not about to get his hopes up about someone he had yet to truly meet.
He snatched the letter and shoved the paper into his training bag before Mila could judge him further. It was her idea anyways to include such romantic questions, anyways.
"That's just how every letter sounds.”