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“The true mission of the violin is to imitate the accents of the human voice, a noble mission that has earned for the violin the glory of being called the king of instruments”
—Charles-Auguste de Beriot
By that standard, Victor’s voice was screaming, or perhaps it was just another imitation of the sad illusion of his mind. He couldn’t distinguish between illusions and reality anymore, and it was becoming quite worrisome.
Pletnev has stopped the orchestra, it seems, and Victor’s heart is clenching up in that way that’s been happening too frequently, and he doesn’t know what to think.
“Nikiforov? What was that?” Pletnev is concerned, not angry, Victor notes, and he doesn’t know if that makes him feel worse or better.
“Sorry, a mistake. Won’t happen again,” Victor responds. He can feel the orchestra looking at him, and he can feel the questions and the surprise and the worry and Victor really just wants to visit the beachside and lie down on the sand, but he simply grasps onto his violin tighter, keeping an impassive expression.
Pletnev regards him warily for a moment, but nods, bringing his hands up in the air to start them off once again. He says something, and Victor finds that he’s responded, his fingers placing themselves firmly against the strings, and Victor takes a breath, and then he’s playing.
♪ ♩ ♫ ♬
Victor, like most esteemed musicians, started playing at a very young age. In fact, holding a violin is one of his earliest memories, and after all these long years, he doesn’t know if he’s come to resent it or not.
He doesn’t. He can’t. Not truly.
(But, oh, how he does. Sometimes he wants to take his violin and smash it against a wall, watching it shatter into pieces. Relief could come. Maybe then he’d be happ—)
He isn’t allowed to resent it.
At the beginning, his playing of the violin stemmed completely from his own want, but it was his parents that continued to encourage his curiosity; however, that encouragement soon grew into an unending burden that Victor was forced to carry throughout all his years growing up. He soon came to believe that he would never experience a normal childhood. When he would ask to go play with friends, a prompt “No” would follow, and then an “encouragement” for Victor to go practice some more.
Victor knows, after all these years, that his parents only promising dinner until after he’s practiced wasn’t ethical, and with the way they treated him upon stumbling upon him and his boyfriend at the time, Victor didn’t particularly miss them.
No good memories came from them.
That doesn’t mean he doesn’t yearn for a family.
(He misses his family so, so much, but he doesn’t miss how they began to treat him, he doesn’t miss the way they would look at him or talk about him when they knew he could hear. He doesn’t miss his family, but he’s never missed anything more.)
And Victor, much like some esteemed musicians, has found himself stuck in a place where moving forward isn’t appealing anymore, but regression just isn’t an option, and frankly, wouldn’t even make sense.
(His violin is shattering in his dreams, and he’s shouting, crying, wondering when and where it all went wrong for him, wondering how and what he could have done to perhaps make it better for him now, wondering what his purpose in life is and what he’ll do in the future.)
So, now, when he plays his destined instrument, his fingers know exactly where to go, what to do, and the arm weight in his bow comes naturally to him, just like everything else, and he’s next to near-perfect, and he’s regarded as one of the best violinists in the world, and he makes money and lives a good life, donating to charities and playing for children, and he’s achieved all his dreams from when he was a child, and despite all of this, Victor Nikiforov has never been unhappier.
He plays without passion, and he knows this, he can feel it deep inside of him when instead of closing his eyes because he is lost in the music, he closes his eyes because he simply doesn’t care anymore, and he plays without that spark he used to be proud of himself for, and still, nobody notices.
He reads the reviews about him. He hears the audiences’ cheers. He signs the pictures and the papers, and they all look at him like he’s everything they want to be, and Victor just wants to tell them, “No, don’t be like me. Be happy be happy be happy, I’m not sure if I want to remain any longer. Don’t be like me, please, please don’t.”
(He never says that.
Imagine what the press would say about that.
He can’t deal with that. It’s too much. Too pointless. Too much of everything that’s suffocating to Victor, and Victor just wants to travel across the world again, this time, without a violin in one hand, and without a weight on his shoulders that he put there himself.)
So, Victor smiles instead.
And every night he goes home and contemplates whether or not he should wake up the next morning.
(Victor doesn’t know if that’s what most esteemed musicians do.)
♪ ♩ ♫ ♬
“No, I don’t speak to her,” Victor says, and Pletnev sighs.
“She contacted me again.”
“Why?” asks Victor.
“I’m not sure. She never gives me details. She just asks to talk to you,” Pletnev says.
Victor can’t imagine why his mother has been contacting him over the past few weeks. Maybe they want to ask him for money again. He knows that someone didn’t die because if that was the case, his mother would have said from the start. She’s not one to hold back on important information like that.
“Victor,” Pletnev says. Victor’s attention returns to him, and he raises an eyebrow. “You have an offer.”
Victor frowns. “An offer? For what?”
“For the LSO, Victor,” Pletnev responds.
(A flash of a memory—Victor claiming he wants to play for the London Symphony Orchestra at least once. He was talking to his pet at the time. He stopped having friends once he entered the performing arts school he went to.)
“Why?” Victor asks. Victor knows the answer, but he doesn’t particularly understand how such an esteemed group cannot see that he lacks the passion to play for them. Perhaps they don’t care about trivialities like this. Perhaps they just want him for his reputation and his precision.
“They want you to play a concert cycle for them. A duet. After that, they’re considering extending membership to you. You’d be concertmaster, naturally.”
Victor has been offered this before by various other orchestras. Everyone wants to see two top violinists play together. People like to compare other people. It’s sickening, and Victor is afraid of what his answer might be.
“A duet? Who with? Bell? Hahn? Chang?” If he’s to perform with any of them, he’d prefer Hahn simply because she plays much like him, all precision, less emotion. Victor is afraid that if he is to play with Chang or Bell that he’d be seen for how pathetic he truly is. He’d rather be pathetic because he made a few precision errors (he would never) than because he lacked the passion he used to have.
“No, no, not with a violin,” Pletnev corrects.
Victor’s thoughts come to an abrupt stop, and he can’t help the surprise. Something new then?
(Something stirs inside of him. Anticipation? Excitement? Nervousness?)
“Well then, who?” Victor asks.
Then Pletnev speaks again, and Victor didn’t expect him to say, “Katsuki. Katsuki Yuuri.”
“The pianist?”
♪ ♩ ♫ ♬
Victor knew of Katsuki Yuuri alright. He first heard of him about fifteen years ago, when Katsuki had only been ten, and Victor himself fourteen.
Katsuki had played at some festival in Japan, and astounded the world. His teacher had kept him hidden apparently, not wanting to throw him into the spotlight earlier. Victor always found it strange that Katsuki’s teacher wasn’t averse to throwing him out into the world at only ten though. Who was it that taught Katsuki again?
Ah, yes. He remembers. The drunk for a pianist.
Okukawa Minako.
She was apparently a free spirit in terms of the music world, and after her long run, she retired, saying she had “had enough” and then settled down in the middle of nowhere in Japan.
The whole world was in a frenzy when it was revealed that she was now the teacher of Katsuki, but Katsuki had risen above all expectations, completely shattering both Okukawa’s and other prospective pianists’ careers.
The first time someone spoke to Victor of Yuuri, they referred to him as the elements. They spoke of the earth in him, and then the water, the fire, and the wind. They spoke of him like he created the very elements themselves.
(This isn’t better, Victor realizes. This means his dispassionate playing will be even more obvious to the world.
Maybe this is just the means to his end.)
Pletnev told Victor the LSO would be looking for his response to their invitation within the next two weeks.
(Victor didn’t even know if he wanted to be alive in two weeks’ time. Oh, how absolutely depressing. This isn’t the Victor he believed himself to be.)
Victor remembers what Yuuri looks like as well. From a faraway glance, maybe one wouldn’t notice him. Maybe some would look for others around him. Maybe some would not even greet him.
Victor remembers what Yuuri looks like, and he knows that that man is beautiful.
Even more so when his fingers glide across the keys, and the music hall is filled with a kind of music that Victor can’t even remember playing.
(Victor thinks about it for a few days longer, but by the fourth day, he’s already sent in his response.
And so with the spring cycle coming to an end, a completely different one is just about to begin.)
♪ ♩ ♫ ♬
[1 month later]
It’s raining in London when Victor arrives, but at least it isn’t snowing. That’s all it ever seemed to do in Russia.
(He’s exaggerating.
No, he’s not.)
He said his goodbyes to his orchestra just two days ago, and he didn’t expect there to be so many that would be genuinely upset over his departure. And he absolutely did not cry.
(He absolutely did, but that’s besides the point.)
Victor sees his chauffeur, and goes to introduce himself, Makkachin following close behind him, and his suitcase dragging behind him as well. He’s having the rest of his bags delivered to him soon, and he knows he could have easily brought them all with him, but he simply didn’t want to deal with the hassle of it all.
“Mr. Nikiforov,” his chauffeur greets, smiling when Victor finally reaches him. “Would you like me to take your suitcase?”
“Call me Victor, please. And yes, thank you so much,” Victor says, rolling it towards him. “What’s your name?” he asks.
The man smiles, taking the suitcase. “My name is Richard. And you’re of course welcome.”
Victor notes that he likes Richard, and as they walk to the car together, Victor looks around, familiarizing himself once again with the new surroundings. He’s been to England before, but it’s been about a year and a half now.
He’s glad to be back.
(And the weather is about the same as well.)
♪ ♩ ♫ ♬
He’s to meet with both Gergiev and Katsuki today, and then he and Katsuki will meet with the orchestra the day after.
That’s the plan at least.
If he gets there in time.
Victor detests being late, and he’s frustrated with himself for forgetting to set his multiple alarms, and he’s lucky that Makkachin was hungry enough to wake him up, or else he would have been even more late.
Richard is prompt with his arrival, and Victor gets in, violin case in one hand and a coffee in the other. He barely had time to comb through his hair, Victor notes upon seeing himself in the mirror. He grimaces when he realizes he forgot to change shirts too.
(He hopes that Richard didn’t notice.)
Victor leans his head against the window, sighing miserably. What an absolute mess, he thinks as he takes a dejected sip from his coffee.
And his coffee is too bitter.
He takes another sad sip, sighing loudly, and tries not to let his pride be too damaged when Richard lets out a small chuckle.
(Victor briefly wonders what his life would be like now if he never became a violinist.)
♪ ♩ ♫ ♬
Victor was nearly half an hour late yet he still arrived earlier than Katsuki apparently. Gergiev stands upon seeing him, letting out an amused chuckle.
“Ah, Nikiforov. It’s nice to finally meet you. I hope tardiness is not a habit of yours?”
Victor cringes, shaking his head, as he holds out his hand to shake. They shake hands, and Victor laughs awkwardly before saying, “No, I actually loathe tardiness; however, I was so tired from yesterday’s trip that I forgot to set any of my alarms.”
Gergiev chuckles again, before frowning. “Well, you’re here before Katsuki. I wonder why he’s late as well.”
Victor was wondering the same thing. Perhaps tardiness really was a habit of Katsuki’s? If that’s the case, Victor doesn’t see any scheduled practice sessions being the best.
“Have you decided on the duet yet?” Victor asks after a long few moments, and Gergiev studies him thoughtfully.
“I have several picked out for the two of you, but I would like both of your opinions on which one the pair of you would like to play. That was one of the major purposes of this meeting in fact.”
Victor nods. “What pieces are we choosing from?”
(Whatever it is, Victor knows he’ll be able to master it, and he knows the world will fall in love with it, and a darker unsettling feeling fills his soul.)
Gergiev simply smiles before responding, “I’ll let you listen to them when Katsuki gets here. I would much rather have you two listen before basing your choice off the compo—ah, here comes Katsuki!”
Victor turns swiftly, and there indeed is Katsuki, all messy hair and all large glasses. He looks younger like this, Victor thinks, almost like a college student.
“You’re late, Katsuki!” Gergiev exclaims, but Victor hears the same amusement in his tone that he had with Victor just minutes ago.
Katsuki Yuuri is blushing wildly, and Victor simply peers at him, wondering how such a seemingly-endearing man-child-person can become the passionate, mysterious, and flawless pianist he asserts himself to be.
Then again, Victor knows all too well about creating an image for oneself, and it seems that Katsuki Yuuri has created an image as well.
“I apologize, sir! I completely forgot to set my alarms! I feel awful about it, sir, I’m really not one to usually be late… okay, maybe that’s only partially true, but I’m usually always on time,” Katsuki manages to say, and Gergiev only becomes more amused.
“First Victor, and then you. What would you two have done in a world without alarms at all?”
“Suffer, probably,” Victor deadpans before he can help himself. Katsuki gives out a loud laugh at that, and Victor smiles at him.
(He’s starting to see it now. It’s tucked away right now, but the passion and heart and life and love in Katsuki Yuuri is strong, and god, Victor is finding himself to be almost jealous.)
“I’m Victor Nikiforov,” he says, holding out his hand. Yuuri blushes again (Victor is slowly coming to the realization that he loves when Yuuri blushes), and shakes his hand.
“Yuuri. Yuuri Katsuki. It’s great to meet you,” he says.
“Do you want me to call you Yuuri? Or do you prefer Katsuki?” Victor asks, once they let go of the other’s hands.
(Yuuri’s hand was awfully cold, but Victor’s hands are also cold so he doesn’t think too much of it.)
Yuuri ducks his head, and says, “Yuuri is fine. Is Victor okay?” He looks back up at Victor, and Victor has found himself enraptured by Yuuri’s eyes. Dark, but so so bright.
Victor smiles his award-winning smile. “Of course,” says Victor.
Yuuri gives a soft smile, and then turns his attention back to Gergiev, who is watching them, seeming even more amused than ever.
“I’m glad you two like each other. I like to believe that good chemistry is a necessity when performing a duet, and it’s better for your sakes anyway considering you’ll need to get used to playing with each other.”
Victor glances at Yuuri, and is partially surprised to see him already looking back.
(And something shifts then, perhaps it’s just the world, perhaps it’s just another stepping stone, but something shifts, and Victor’s heart gives a pang, and Yuuri smiles at him, and Victor realizes that for the first time in a long while, he feels anticipation. The kind of anticipation that’s good, the kind that Victor hasn’t had since he started down his own spiraling decrease in mentality, the kind that Victor has been waiting for.
And the shift is barely noticeable, but Victor feels like his entire world has been flipped over.)
♪ ♩ ♫ ♬
The piece begins with the soft entrance of the piano lulling the audience into a trance, and when Victor comes in, he’s to be even more entrancing. He’s to make the audience wish to be wherever he is. He is to play in such a way that the audience’s hearts beat quicker than usual and they wouldn’t know why.
All the while, Yuuri would be gliding his fingers across the keys in such a way that Victor himself would want to become absolutely lost in it. Yuuri is to play like a forest, an ocean, a magnificent imaginative world that Victor is to be completely enchanted by.
(Victor doesn’t think that’ll be too hard to difficult. He’s already entranced with Katsuki Yuuri.)
They’re to play without the orchestra, which was a surprise to Victor, but Gergiev explained that he wanted to see the reception to just Victor and Yuuri playing. They will, of course, play with the orchestra in their other pieces, but for the duet, it will solely be the two of them on the stage.
(That feeling came up again. Anticipation.)
Victor had looked to see what Yuuri’s response to it was, and he seemed nervous for some reason, and it hurt Victor to see that expression on his face, so he looked away.
At home now, he plays his music, and after a quick read-through, and a few listens to past performances, he begins to understand how he wishes to play it. His violin feels unnatural in his hand, and Victor’s heart hurts with that knowledge, but he still places the violin on his shoulder, and prepares to play once again.
He thinks of the technical aspects of it, and he hates the way he sounds, knowing it sounds technically beautiful, and yet he plays on, trying to prove to somebody, most likely himself, that he is better than this.
He is better than this he is better than this he is better than this oh god, is he no longer better than this is this the best he will achieve oh please no oh please no oh please do not let this happen—
Yuuri flashes into his mind, and Victor frowns, his bow moving faster and his pace quickening and his thoughts racing, and Yuuri is there again, and Victor begins to see what he can do to be better and so he does it. He does it, and the notes fly by, and even though Victor is still too tense and still too uncomfortable, he is experiencing something he hasn’t felt in too long a time.
He plays for hours, he eats a homemade meal, he practices again, and then thoughts of the texture of Yuuri’s lips lull him to sleep soon after.
♪ ♩ ♫ ♬
“Hello, everybody. This is our new concertmaster for this concert cycle, Victor Nikiforov, and our new pianist, Yuuri Katsuki. Make them feel welcome,” Gergiev announces, and Victor is instantly under scrutiny as is Yuuri, but Victor simply smiles.
“Hi!” he says, knowing that tends to warm people up to him. It seems that he was right as he notices the people relax a bit more and offer him warm smiles.
“Nice… nice to meet you,” Yuuri says carefully, and Victor looks at him, realizing he’s nervous.
Gergiev smiles at them, and Victor carefully situates himself in his seat, watching Yuuri move toward the piano off to the side.
His stand partner is a woman, and she smiles deviously at him as he sits down. Victor can tell he’ll like her already.
“I’m Mila,” she introduces.
He nods. “Victor. Good to meet you.”
She laughs quietly, but doesn’t say anything else, and Victor takes the chance to look around, seeing the various players and instruments. When he looks over at the brass section, he’s reminded that Chris plays in this orchestra, and he smiles brightly at him when he notices him.
“Take out the Sibelius!” Gergiev commands, and then they begin.
♪ ♩ ♫ ♬
“Victor!” Chris exclaims, coming up to him after rehearsal and hugging him. Victor laughs and hugs him tightly for a moment before pulling back. “It’s good to see you! I guess I missed the memo that you’d be playing for us this cycle!”
“Honestly, I only got the memo about a month ago. It’s good to be here,” Victor says, and Chris smirks.
“Missed me, huh?”
Victor rolls his eyes, and he looks around again at everybody, packing up or leaving the hall. “Is there anybody I should meet?”
Chris grins wider, but nods. “Otabek! Leo! Get over here! Meet Victor!” Chris shouts, and Victor sighs, trying to push down the feeling of wanting to leave already. He sees that Yuuri is still at the piano, and tries not to be too aware of the pushed back hair thing he has going on today.
(What even is that? His hair wasn’t like that yesterday.)
Two other men walk over, and Victor shakes their hands, smiling as welcoming as he can.
“I’m Victor. Good to meet you. What do you play?” he asks.
“Trumpet,” Leo responds, smiling just as warmly back.
“I play the bassoon,” Otabek responds politely.
“Spectacular,” Victor says, still noticing Yuuri more than he’d like to. His hands are drifting over the keys lightly and he’s studying his music intently. “I apologize, but I just remembered I need to ask Yuuri something. It was good to meet you! Have a good day!”
(He hopes his English isn’t too terrible.)
They tell him it’s not a problem, and he promises to text Chris before he finally makes his way over to Yuuri.
“Are you practicing?” Victor asks after a long few seconds, and Yuuri jumps, startled. He looks back at him, and those eyes of his are wide and gorgeous.
“Uhm, I’m reading through the music again so… sort of?”
“Ah,” says Victor. “I was wondering when would you like to have our first practice together?”
“You could practice now, gentlemen,” Gergiev suddenly says, and they both turn to see him, packed to leave. “I don’t lock the area. The guards do that, and they won’t do that until everyone is out of the building which is in a few hours.”
“Uhm….” starts Yuuri, but Victor suddenly doesn’t want to leave anymore so he cuts him off.
“Do you want to practice now?” Victor asks. Charming smile charming smile charming smile, Victor thinks, and he can practically see Yuuri give in.
“Yeah, sounds good. Yeah,” Yuuri says.
“Excellent!”
Gergiev nods at them, pleased, and turns to leave. “Have a good time practicing, gentlemen! Good job at being on time today! Keep it up.”
And then he’s gone, and Victor feels how alone the pair of them are.
“I’ll get my violin and music then,” Victor says, leaving Yuuri’s side to grab his instrument and stand.
He brings his stand over to the right of Yuuri’s piano, and takes out the music, ignoring Yuuri’s gaze on him. Finally, he gets situated, and nods at Yuuri, confirming that he’s ready. Yuuri nods back, and there’s something there, Victor feels, something between them and Victor isn’t sure he’s allowed himself to know what it is quite yet. His mind and soul like to play tricks on him like this.
As soon as Yuuri’s hands press down on the keys, Victor knows he is not enough to play with this exceptional man. Yet, he knows he is more than enough. They were put together for this duet for a reason, and he knows there we will be people who will travel across the world just to see the pair of them play one piece together, and there’s something so unrevealing in that knowledge, and Yuuri sounds like absolute magic.
Victor places his bow on the string, waiting, and then he’s pulling and pressing down, and he hears the perfection of the note, but he doesn’t hear what he believes music to truly be, and Victor wonders how people would react if he went home and killed himself tonight.
Yet Yuuri is pulling him along, it seems. Yuuri is playing, and Victor almost feels as if he is playing for him. Victor has never played for anyone else before, and yet here he is, feeling so unlike himself and so out of place that he begins to play for somebody else.
(What does that mean? What can that mean? What does that mean, please, somebody tell him, please.)
Yuuri doesn’t glance at him, and Victor doesn’t glance at him, both too focused on reading the new music, and of course there are mistakes, but they are mistakes that are easily fixed, and now the pace has picked up a bit, Victor moving his bow faster and cleaner.
(He feels like this is the kind of music he’s striving to play again, but perhaps he’s just being too hopeful.
He hopes not.)
They play for a long while, mistakes shining through every now and then, especially Yuuri, whose part is much harder than the violinist’s, but he plays so well that it overshadows any mistakes.
Victor is surprised when he never feels an ounce of boredom while playing through it. He’s obviously less musical, but he’s no less perfect, and he’s no more bored than other times, and Victor doesn’t want to know what that means for him.
They’re nearing the end now, and Victor moves the bow languidly, and time seems to move slower than ever, and then it’s fast again, both Yuuri and Victor playing together, and when they end, Victor is breathing heavily, and Yuuri is visibly tired.
Yet they both seem more relaxed than before they started. Victor’s gaze slides to Yuuri’s, and Yuuri is staring right back at him.
Then Victor smiles, and the world shifts a bit when Yuuri does too.
“That was amazing!” Yuuri exclaims suddenly, and then drops his head, embarrassed.
Well, that won’t do. “I haven’t played like that in a long time, Yuuri,” he says, and he knows he’s being vague, but Yuuri seems to understand something in his tone or words, and looks relieved.
“Honestly… I’m a little intimidated by you. You were—are—one of my favorite musicians… I guess, yeah,” he says, laughing awkwardly, and Victor is absolutely floored, and he doesn’t know what this means.
(Because Victor has heard dozens of compliments like that. He’s heard that phrase of being someone’s favorite musician hundreds of times at least, and Victor has never felt such a response. He doesn’t know what Yuuri is talking about when he is even more intimidating than Victor could ever be. It’s intimidating when somebody else makes him express himself in a way that he’s been failing at for years.)
Yuuri seems to have taken his silence as a bad thing, and starts to explain himself, but Victor cuts in before he can become too hard on himself.
“Maybe if you saw me with my dog, I would be less intimidating,” Victor jokes. “Also, I think you’re an exceptional player. I have never enjoyed playing with someone else more than with you.”
(Yuuri looks even more beautiful when he’s blushing like this.)
“I would say the same, but you’re the only one I’ve ever played with before. Honestly, I always rejected any offers before because I was afraid that I’d be too nervous to play with somebody else,” Yuuri says.
“But you were okay with playing with me?” Victor asks, confused.
Yuuri looks abashed now, but he clears his throat and admits, “Actually, playing with you used to be a dream of mine, and I told myself no matter how embarrassing it is, I have to do it.”
“I-I was a dream of yours?” Victor asks, heart catching in his throat. Yuuri blushes even harder, and Victor seriously needs to tell him to stop doing that because it’s distracting.
“Well, yes, erm, playing with you, yes,” Yuuri says, and Victor can only stare at him wondering how the hell such a person exists.
“I’m… I’m honored, Yuuri. Truly,” Victor finally manages to say. Yuuri nods shakily.
(Victor wants to tell this man that’s already done so much for Victor than Victor has done for himself. Victor wants to tell him that he’s jealous of him and scared of him and enthralled by him. Victor wants to tell him that Yuuri makes him feel something and that something is overwhelming, is something important, is something life-changing, but Victor doesn’t know what it is. Victor wants to tell this man that he doesn’t deserve the praise, at least not anymore. Victor wants to tell this man to run while he can, but he doesn’t understand how that advice can even be relevant.)
But most of all, Victor realizes.
Victor wants to mean something to this man.
He just needs to figure out why.
♪ ♩ ♫ ♬
Over the past year and a half or so, Victor had come to stop enjoying practicing. The first time he addressed this concern, it was to a friend of his who simply told him that “nobody enjoys practicing,” but that wasn’t quite right because well, simply put, Victor always did.
Or at least he thought so. And then one day, he went home, and practiced, and realized that he didn’t enjoy one bit of it. It became a chore to him. It was no longer something he loved to do, and Victor didn’t understand why.
Because Victor’s entire life was his violin, and he had always been perfectly content with that, but then he reached a point, he supposed, where his entire life was his violin, and that was exactly the problem.
He didn’t want to look at it as a problem. He didn’t understand why it had to be a problem, and he tried so hard to analyze his own feelings and interpretations of the music and of the violin yet he still sounded dull to his ears yet amazing to everybody else.
And it was frustrating as hell because if Victor tried to tell somebody, they didn’t believe him, and they didn’t understand. They would say something unhelpful and then end it with a compliment to Victor’s playing, and that wasn’t what Victor was looking for.
Yet today, after about a week and a half of playing with Yuuri and getting to know him in and out, he comes home, as he has for the past week and a half, and enjoys practicing.
He doesn’t know why he does, and he doesn’t know what he thinks about while playing.
(He’s lying. He thinks about Yuuri. He thinks about Yuuri’s passion, his kindness, his soul, his brevity, his compassion, his talent, his hands, his lips, his eyes, his fire in his heart. He thinks of Yuuri, but that’s scarier than anything ever before.)
And he plays for hours and hours, and he knows he’s already mastered all the technique and intonation, but now he’s practicing, and he’s practicing because he’s trying to once again master the emotion.
And it’s working, he thinks.
(Yuuri is working. Yuuri has done something to him. A spell of some sorts, but Victor can’t complain about it. It’s what he’s been striving for after all.)
And every new day comes a new experience with Yuuri and a new release of emotions while practicing, and Victor doesn’t even stop to realize just how much it’s happening.
♪ ♩ ♫ ♬
They’ve taken a break, and now Victor is sitting next to Yuuri, Yuuri’s hands over Victor’s as he introduces him to the piano as if they’re old friends. Yuuri is leaning in toward him, lowly instructing Victor on what to do.
Victor is trying to pay attention, but all he wants to do is touch Yuuri. He wants to touch his arms, and his cheeks, and his nose, and his chest, and his legs, and his thighs, and the ripples of his back, and Victor cannot believe he is letting himself be so distracted by a man.
“Victor? Did you hear me?” Yuuri asks, glancing at Victor, who’s already looking right at him. Yuuri frowns, and Victor can only shake his head.
(He feels powerless yet he has never felt more empowered.)
Yuuri laughs softly, and Victor watches the way it transforms his body, and then Victor is laughing as well because he’s being quite ridiculous, isn’t he?
“Sorry, Yuuri. I didn’t, no. I was just admiring the way you are,” Victor says, obviously not thinking before he speaks.
(This is already absolutely mortifying.
At least that blush is back.)
“Oh, well, thank you. I think… I admire you for… you as well,” Yuuri says before Victor can even try to come up with an excuse for his weird response.
Victor’s sure he’s blushing now too.
“Oh,” he says.
Yuuri isn’t looking at him anymore and is staring resolutely at the piano, and Victor doesn’t know what to say.
So instead, because he’s obviously an idiot, he reaches out and lightly strokes at Yuuri’s arm instead.
(Victor doesn’t understand what’s happening to him, but at the same time, he thinks he does.)
Yuuri, surprisingly, doesn’t pull away from him, and so Victor continues to do it, amazed that he’s finally getting to touch Yuuri.
(Perhaps he’s sick?)
It feels like hours when Victor finally pulls back and stands up. He can’t, no matter how much he’d like to, just stay here and touch Yuuri. Yuuri seems startled by the loss of his touch, and Victor gives him an apologetic smile. Yuuri just seems embarrassed.
“Sorry. I need to go,” Victor says, and he instantly regrets it when he sees the flicker of disappointment on Yuuri’s face who hides it easily with a smile. He’s finished packing up his violin when Yuuri responds with, “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
Victor nods at him, heart beating loudly, and they stare at each other for another long moment until Victor finally responds.
“Yeah,” he starts, clearing his throat, “see you tomorrow.”
♪ ♩ ♫ ♬
Victor plays with more passion than he can remember now, and he doesn’t want to know what that means.
♪ ♩ ♫ ♬
Rehearsal was going very well today, and Mila keeps making jokes about some poor clarinet player, and Victor is trying not to let himself be amused by them, but obviously, after a third look from Gergiev, he isn’t succeeding. If he was younger and more concerned about job prospects, Victor would have been scared shitless if even one conductor looked at him funnily, but Victor finds that he couldn’t care less anymore, and if he wants to make silly faces at Yuuri from across the room, then he will.
Besides, Gergiev hasn’t noticed those yet.
(It’s only a matter of time before he does though.
It’ll be worth it.)
He’s known Yuuri for almost a month now, and Victor can’t remember being so happy. He’s happy to go to rehearsals now, and he’s happy when he practices and he’s happy when he’s rehearsing with Yuuri and he’s happy and happy and happy and it’s because of Yuuri.
(Victor thinks he knows what this means, but he’s too scared to consider it. He can’t. Not now.
But why not?)
♪ ♩ ♫ ♬
Almost immediately after Victor returns home, Yuuri is calling him.
“Yuuri?” he asks, surprised, as he sets his violin down, and slips off his shoes.
“Victor, you forgot your tuner,” Yuuri says, and Victor walks over to his couch, plopping himself down onto it.
Victor pauses, confused. “My tuner?”
“Yeah, you forgot it,” confirms Yuuri.
“Okay?”
“Do you want me to bring it to you?” Yuuri then asks, and Victor almost wants to laugh. Surely, Yuuri knows Victor owns about ten different tuners, right?
He clears his throat and says, “I mean I’m going to see you tomorrow, and I wasn’t planning on practicing today, and I also already have—”
“But it’s your tuner! What if I lost it?” Yuuri asks, and Victor thinks he notes a hint of playful innocence in his tone. Victor masks a laugh with another clearing of his throat.
“So, what are you going to do about it then?”
“I could always come over. That way, I won’t lose it, and you’ll have it safe,” Yuuri suggests quickly, and this time, Victor can’t stop his incredulous laugh.
“Yuuri… if you wanted to come over, you could have just asked,” Victor laughs.
Yuuri huffs. “I never said that. I’m just worried about your tuner. Which I have.”
“Okay….”
“I’m coming over,” Yuuri says, and then he hangs up with a click, and Victor laughs again, completely bemused.
(He’s feeling that kind of anticipation again, but this time it’s mixed with a happy feeling of nervousness. He wanted Yuuri to come over, he realizes.
He wouldn’t mind if Yuuri came over every day.)
♪ ♩ ♫ ♬
Yuuri did indeed have his tuner, and he quickly places it on Victor’s counter before shyly making his way to Victor’s couch. Victor is still standing by the door when he did all of that, but he wastes no time in joining Yuuri on the couch.
And they talk for hours, and Victor cooks them dinner, and when they realize how late it is, they laugh and turn on a movie and make a blanket-bed on the floor, leaning up against the couch, and Victor is happy that he’s the last one awake because he gets to see Yuuri’s sleeping face before he drifts off to sleep beside him, hands loosely laced together, and his heart feeling like music itself.
♪ ♩ ♫ ♬
Victor and Yuuri are practicing, and Victor watches the way Yuuri’s hands move and the way his body moves and the way he is so effortlessly beautiful and absolutely extraordinary, and Victor plays what he feels, and he hears what he sounds like, and he likes it.
He hears the passion in his playing. And he hears the emotions that are so overwhelming, and Victor is looking at Yuuri.
Yuuri, the man he’s texted and gone out to eat with and went to go see a movie with and looks forward to seeing every day he opens his eyes.
Yuuri, the man he thinks about now instead of what it’d be like if Victor was dead.
Yuuri, the man who inspires him, the man who has somehow dug his way into Victor’s heart, and Victor is in the third movement of their duet when he realizes that he might just possibly be in love with Katsuki Yuuri.
(He keeps playing.)
♪ ♩ ♫ ♬
With the realization that Victor loves Yuuri came a wave of calm, followed by a thunderstorm of anxiousness, and then ended with a sky of blissful acceptance.
(He thinks that maybe just possibly he isn’t alone in this.
Victor has been thinking of his family recently.
He misses them.
His mother has stopped calling, apparently, and Victor doesn’t think he cares to know why.)
Loving Yuuri, or at least realizing he loved Yuuri, didn’t change a single thing except for Victor’s closer concentration on Yuuri’s reactions and responses to him. Victor isn’t sure if he’s always watched Yuuri so closely before, but now he does it with more purpose: to see if Yuuri might just return his feelings.
Victor would watch him, how he blushes and how he can so easily shut down around others because he’s too nervous or feels too unimportant. Victor would watch him when he finally allows himself to open up a bit more, after he threw a hesitant smile over at Victor, and allowed himself to speak out. Victor would watch him play his piano, an art he’s so carefully mastered, an art that he does with such passion and love that it could very well possibly change the world. An art that he took upon himself to share with Victor, an art that already did change Victor’s own world.
Victor would watch him knowing he was in love with Yuuri, and notice that Yuuri acted differently around him. Yuuri opened up quicker, and Yuuri smiled more, and Yuuri blushed more, and Yuuri was something more around Victor, and Victor found himself believing that maybe Katsuki Yuuri could possibly love him back.
(Or perhaps already did.)
“Victor,” Yuuri suddenly says, and Victor pauses, blinking rapidly as a different and more real scene settled around him, and he realizes he had stopped playing.
“Oh,” says Victor, and Yuuri is here suddenly, a hand on Victor’s shoulder, and a comforting smile directed at him.
“Is everything okay?” Yuuri asks.
Victor thinks Yuuri looks so beautiful like this. He thinks that Yuuri is a shining light, and all Victor can see behind Yuuri is the edge of his piano, and it’s just Victor and his violin as well as Yuuri and his piano, and Victor thinks they could change the world together.
Victor reaches up and places his hand over Yuuri’s hand that’s on his shoulder, and smiles at him. “I’m perfectly okay, yes.”
Yuuri looks startled for a moment, but quickly recovers and shoots and even wider grin at Victor in return.
“Ready to keep practicing?”
“Always.”
(He loves this man.)
♪ ♩ ♫ ♬
“Listen up, everybody! Our concert is in just a week so keep that in mind when you practice today! We have six more rehearsals together, and I want every single one of them to be performed as if it’s the concert itself. Do I make myself clear?” Gergiev asks.
A chorus of “Yes, sirs” echo throughout the room, and Victor looks at Yuuri, who is already looking at him, and they both nod to each other.
“So when are you going to date?” Mila suddenly whispers, leaning over. Victor breaks his gaze with Yuuri, and glances at her, blushing.
“What… what do you mean?” he asks. Mila rolls her eyes.
“You know what I mean. Don’t act oblivious. You’re better than that,” she says, and then she’s pulling away, and acting as if she never said a damn thing.
Victor pauses for a moment, considering her words, and then glances back at Yuuri, who’s concentrated on his music again.
And as if he sensed him, Yuuri is glancing back at him again, and Victor is even more surprised when Yuuri winks at him.
(Without an ounce of subtly, Mila coughs loudly next to him.)
“Okay, you’re free to go! Job well done today, everybody! I’ll see you tomorrow,” Gergiev exclaims, and the orchestra lets out a sigh of relief and starts to pack up. “Yuuri! Victor! See me in my office!” He nods at the pair of them and leaves. Victor quickly packs up, Yuuri coming up to walk with Victor.
“Stop distracting me during rehearsal. You’re going to get us fired,” Yuuri says when he’s arrived, Victor securing his violin in his case. Victor rolls his eyes.
“I could say the same to you; it’s not like you don’t do it back, you nuisance,” he teases, and Yuuri grins at him, all bright eyes and beautiful soul.
Victor finishes packing up, and stands, violin in hand, and the pair of them walk to Gergiev’s office together.
“Come in,” Gergiev says after Victor knocks. They walk in.
Gergiev is already seated, a packet of paper in one hand, and a pen in the other. He looks up when they answer, and he smiles.
“Hello, gentlemen. Good job today. I’m impressed with how well you play together. I think the world won’t know what hit them,” Gergiev says. Victor and Yuuri smile at him, and he continues to speak. “Now, I called the pair of you in here to tell you that I’m pleased to offer a permanent place for the two of you in the LSO. Yuuri, your situation would be a little different as we don’t need pianists too often, but I know you do have contracts with other orchestras as well, right?”
Yuuri nods, smiling widely. “I do, yes. But of course, none of those are quite permanent either. Pianists aren’t always needed for concert cycles so I tend to just drift around, which I enjoy.”
Gergiev nods, pleased before looking at Victor.
“How about it, Nikiforov? Do you want to be an official member? You’ve definitely earned your place here in our orchestra. You’re one of a kind, Victor.”
Victor knew it was perhaps bound to come, but he’s still shocked when he responds with, “I would be honored, sir.”
Gergiev smiles back at him, and nods, handing out the packets to them. “Then, that’s that. Here are the contracts. You don’t have to sign right now, but whenever is soonest would be best. Thank you, gentlemen. Have a great day, and I’ll see you tomorrow!”
They quickly leave the office, seemingly breathless and they both pause to glance at each other.
“Well,” Victor says.
“Yes,” Yuuri responds.
The air is heavy, and Victor swears he can hear his heartbeats. They don’t say anything else, but somehow that said something more than they ever could.
♪ ♩ ♫ ♬
Victor’s emotions seemed to be a whirlwind today, and if it’s because he’s too aware, so aware of the way that Yuuri looks back at him, and if it’s because when he subconsciously reached for Yuuri’s hand and Yuuri, albeit a bit unsurely, grasped on just as tightly, and if it’s because Yuuri smiles at him like Victor means something and Victor doesn’t know what that could mean for them yet at the same time, knows exactly what that could mean, then his emotions are more than warranted.
And they’re practicing together again, the date of their concert coming up quickly, but that’s okay because Victor and Yuuri have played together so well that they have melded into a singular being, and it’s okay because Yuuri and Victor might possibly surprise just everyone, and it’s okay because even if the world doesn’t change after their performance, Victor’s entire world has opened.
“Victor?” Yuuri asks, his hands coming to a stop on the piano, and Victor looks at him, coming to a stop as well, and realizes that Yuuri stopped for a reason. What is his reason? What is the reason? “Victor, are you okay?”
Why wouldn’t he be absolutely okay? He’s more than okay. He’s happy. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
(He’s happy he’s happy he’s feeling happiness and that’s something he’s been chasing for far too long.)
“Victor?” Yuuri asks again, standing up now, and Victor is only partially aware of the present, but he’s so aware of Yuuri, he will always be so aware of Yuuri, and then Victor is looking at him, and he realizes that Yuuri is the shining sun in his world of dark, and Victor is in love with him.
Victor is breathing hard now, and Yuuri is suddenly right there, holding onto him. Yuuri is so warm, and he feels Yuuri pull the violin from his hands and set it on a nearby table. He is falling falling falling, he is on the ground, and he is sobbing.
Because Yuuri is such a light in his life, and Yuuri came to him in such a time of need, and Yuuri is passion and Yuuri is the sun and Yuuri is love love love love.
He is only vaguely aware that Yuuri is kind of Freaking Out, but then there comes a moment where Yuuri just goes silent, Victor’s sobs echoing throughout the room.
And then Yuuri is wrapping his entire being and soul around Victor, taking his head in his hands and he kneels and kisses Victor’s head, and then his cheeks and nose and then his lips and Victor’s entire world has exploded into comets.
And Victor doesn’t even know how to express his love for this man, and he cries and cries and cries because his world had been crashing down before and then Yuuri comes and slowly helps him build it back up.
And Yuuri just continues to kiss him, and very very softly, he whispers, “I know.”
(And that’s everything that Victor needed to hear, and he fiercely kisses him back.)
♪ ♩ ♫ ♬
In the midst of their feelings, they go home, and Victor offers his place for Yuuri to spend the night. There’s no real reason why Yuuri should, but he agrees nonetheless, and they settle on the couch once again, a comfortable yet unbearable silence between the two of them.
“At the beginning of last year, I tried to kill myself,” Victor says, and Yuuri is holding his breath, but he takes a hold of Victor’s hand anyway. “I lost my passion for playing, and everyone around me kept telling me I reached the top, and to me, that only meant I had nowhere else to go. I disliked playing. I came to hate it.”
And Victor speaks and speaks, his words falling off his tongue so easily, and instead of his words disappearing in the air, Yuuri reaches out and pulls each one back and holds it close to his heart. Yuuri speaks of his own feelings as he grew up: the constant pressure he felt, the isolation he felt, his depression, and his own anxiety that’s he’s been fighting to hold back.
Victor speaks of his family, and the isolation he felt from them, and when he brings up the words that his mother would call him, Yuuri holds his hand tightly, and that’s enough for anything.
Eventually, they say everything they wanted and needed to say and they groggily make their way to Victor’s room, both collapsing into bed, and holding each other tightly.
(They fell into domesticity quickly, and that in itself opens up a world of possibilities.)
♪ ♩ ♫ ♬
It’s their last rehearsal, and tomorrow is the concert, and Victor isn’t nervous, he’s absolutely excited. Despite the label that Yuuri and Victor have put on their relationship (they’re boyfriends!) nothing has changed. They still tease each other, they still text each other, they still go out and eat with each other, they still watch movies and practice together. Of course, they kiss a bit more now, and they’re not so closed off from the rest of the orchestra with their interactions anymore, but the change means nothing except for the pair of them showcasing their love.
(Honestly, it’s ridiculous, and Victor loves every bit of it.)
They’re on the stage today, like they were yesterday and the day before. They run through their pieces with the full orchestra first, and they sound fantastic, and Victor can’t help but feel proud of every member of this orchestra. And as much as he is excited for his duet with Yuuri, he can’t help but be excited for them as well.
Eventually, it’s time for the final rehearsal of the duet between Yuuri and Victor, and the members leave the stage. It was debated with the LSO and Gergiev whether or not the members would simply remain on the stage and move back, or whether they would leave, but both eventually decided that having the stage all for Yuuri and Victor would be better overall.
(Victor can’t help but agree.)
The players settle in the audience, and the piano has been moved to the left of the stage, with Victor angled nearer the middle and right side.
The members go quiet, and then the lights are shining solely on them, and Victor glances at Yuuri, and it’s quiet so quiet yet Victor can hear his and Yuuri’s heartbeats meld together, and he takes a deep breath, and Yuuri nods, and then Yuuri is playing.
And soon enough, Victor joins in, emotions bursting in the air like fireworks.
(After, they both turn in their contracts. Gergiev smiles, and simply says, “Don’t be late tomorrow.” They leave, go home, and fall asleep kissing and whispering “I love you” into each other’s mouths.)
♪ ♩ ♫ ♬
Gergiev, unlike most conductors, didn’t wish for the orchestra to have a full rehearsal or even a half-rehearsal the day of the concert. He simply wanted the players to show up at their respective times, tune and warm up, and then move to the concert stage.
Victor considers going in a tux at first, but then decides on wearing one of his nicest and favorite dark blue dress shirts, with black slacks that accent him nicely. His dress shoes are black, and his hair is styled in a way that made Yuuri tell him “he’s too hot” when he sent a selfie of himself earlier to him.
(Yuuri was just as hot, so he can shut it.)
His violin case in hand, he walks out to meet Richard, who is already waiting by the car.
“Sir,” he says, and Victor smiles at him.
“Hello, Richard. Haven’t seen you in a while. Been well?”
Richard laughs, opening the door for Victor, who settles in quickly. Richard is sitting down in the driver’s seat, and says, “Yes, I have. To clarify, you wish for me to pick up Mr. Katsuki as well, correct?”
Victor smiles. “Yes, that’d be excellent, thank you.”
“Of course, sir.”
The drive is comfortable, and Victor watches the world pass him by, and he idly remembers when he first touched down in London. He remembers briefly wondering what life would have been like if he didn’t pursue music, and now Victor’s heart pangs at that thought.
(If he wasn’t a violinist, he probably wouldn’t have met Yuuri. He wouldn’t have gotten to play with him, he wouldn’t have gotten to been able to be subject to Yuuri’s life-changing love.
He sounds like such a sap.)
Richard pulls up to Yuuri’s hotel, and Yuuri quickly comes outside, looking absolutely stunning. Before Richard can even be out of the car and opening the door, Yuuri is sliding inside, muttering for Victor to “move over.”
Richard huffs, but welcomes him, and Yuuri introduces himself, smiling widely.
“Are you ready?” Victor asks him, once Richard starts to drive them toward the concert hall.
“Nervous,” Yuuri breathes, resting his head on Victor’s shoulder. He shivers once. “You?”
“Excited,” Victor responds, heart elated. He loves this man he loves this man he loves this man.
Yuuri peers up at him, and Victor quickly kisses him, the other man instantly going red.
(Victor loves this man he loves this man he loves this man he loves this man.)
“I’m excited too,” Yuuri quietly admits before smiling widely to himself. “I heard this show is sold out.”
Victor smiles at the obvious excitement in Yuuri’s voice, and kisses the top of his head.
“Of course it is. You’re playing.”
“Oh yeah, it’s totally just because I’m playing,” Yuuri teases.
(Victor loves this man he loves this man he loves this man he loves this man.)
“I mean, that’s all the incentive I would need to go see a concert like this,” Victor reasons.
“You’re ridiculous,” says Yuuri.
“Of course I am.”
(He kisses him again because he can’t help it.)
♪ ♩ ♫ ♬
“Your mother is here,” is the first thing Gergiev says to him upon seeing him, and Victor stills. Yuuri freezes as well.
“My mother?”
(He’s happy he’s happy oh fuck he’s so happy yet how dare she?)
“Yes. She’s in the audience.”
“Did you talk to her?” Victor asks, wondering how he would have possibly known what she looked like if not.
Gergiev nods. “She came up to me. She’s been trying to call you apparently. She wanted you to know she would come to your next concert. She erm….”
“She what?”
“She… well, she told me to tell you she wasn’t planning on talking to you if you didn’t wish to speak to her. But she wanted you to know that… well, that she’s sorry for everything she’s said in the past and that she loves you dearly. She also said that she was proud of you, Victor.”
Yuuri grasps onto his hand tightly, and Victor can’t breathe, can’t move.
“Oh,” he says. Gergiev looks slightly uncomfortable acting as the middle-man, and he excuses himself, saying that they’ll be playing in an hour.
“Victor….” Yuuri starts to say, and Victor shakes his head, his thoughts racing, his heartbeat drumming loudly.
“She’s proud of me,” he whispers, and Yuuri’s grip on him only tightens more, and Victor feels something lift off of him, a weight, such a large fucking weight, and now it’s gone. “She said she’s proud of me.”
And he knows it’s dumb. He knows it’s dumb to be his age and still apparently so reliant on his mother’s opinion of him, but she created him, and it’s because of her and his father that he is like this in the first place.
(And weirdly enough, it’s because of her that he met Yuuri. Not that he’s going to give her credit for that, but it’s still a strange thought nonetheless.)
“We’re all proud of you, Victor,” Yuuri eventually says, leaning up to kiss his cheek. Victor’s heart jumps at the contact. “I’m especially proud of you.”
(Victor remembers his recurring thoughts of how much he missed his family. He remembers yearning for his mother’s love and her acceptance. He remembers wishing he had a home to go home to, or at least visit. He remembers these thoughts. He was having them just a couple days ago, but it’s in this moment that he realizes that he is capable of living a strong life without his family because Yuuri is beside him.
Honestly, he really is such a sap.
He will still seek his mother after the show, but it’s the knowledge that he wouldn’t have to that makes him stronger than ever, that makes him more in love with Yuuri than ever, that makes him passionate once again and ready to show it off to the world.)
And so he kisses Yuuri, and they race off to warm up and get ready to play on the stage.
♪ ♩ ♫ ♬
The full orchestra played well. They played well, and the audience was stunned into silence, but Victor could also feel the anticipation in him and in the audience rise as it became time for his duet with Yuuri.
His heart leapt in his throat when he glances at Yuuri, who is already staring straight back at him.
The orchestra members quickly exit, and the piano is moved to the position, and suddenly, Victor is poised, ready for the beginning lull of Yuuri’s notes.
And then Yuuri is playing. The soft, quick crescendo in speed and sound of the notes molding into a valley of emotion, and Victor’s bow is touching the string, the lights are on him, but his eyes are on Yuuri as he pulls the bow, the first note echoing softly throughout the concert hall.
He does everything he is supposed to do, and Yuuri sounds absolutely enchanting, and Victor can tell that the audience is just as enchanted, just as enamored, and that means something so incredible to Victor.
He’s playing and he’s playing and he wants to leap into the sky and scream for joy and love now that he’s found himself again. He’s found a new reason for his passion, and he looks at Yuuri, and he looks at Yuuri, and he looks at Yuuri, and Yuuri is playing for him, and Victor is playing for Yuuri.
The end of the first movement comes quickly, and the quick change in mood surprises the audience. Victor loves playing this part, but this time he thinks of how happy he is with Yuuri while he plays. Victor thinks of their dates, their texts, their smiles and laughs and all the times they’ve teased each other during and out of rehearsal, and he plays louder and louder and louder, and Yuuri is responding with just as much enthusiasm.
It’s absolutely incredible, absolutely enthralling, and music has become the world itself, as love explodes in the sky.
A darker tone takes on their playing, and they play and play and play, notes gliding in the air, and bouncing off the walls, and drumming in their hearts, and singing in their heads, and Victor is so very in love with one Katsuki Yuuri.
He remembers that it was this movement that he realized that he was in love with Yuuri, and he plays with more emotion and more realization and more love than ever before, and Victor wants to laugh as he plays, so elated and so happy.
Finally, finally, the lull of the fourth movement starts again, and Victor can feel each thought with each note that Yuuri plays.
(Yuuri loves him Yuuri loves him Yuuri loves him Yuuri loves him the world is shining so brightly down on him.)
The final few minutes are on them now, and Victor plays and plays and plays and so does Yuuri, and that means everything.
(He’s so lucky he met Yuuri.)
His bow is moving quicker and quicker, and Yuuri is slamming down on the keys, and the music is loud loud loud with words that are not said and the audience can never understand.
(He never expected to fall in love with Yuuri, but he’s so glad he did.)
Victor feels the seconds slip away and the piece is coming to an end, but he still plays and plays and plays.
(Passion is such a beautiful aspect of the world, such a wonderful feeling, such a dedicated emotion.)
Victor is playing louder and louder, and so is Yuuri, and so are his thoughts, and finally, finally, their piece sneaks to its end, and then with one last note, they are finished.
He focuses on Yuuri, and the audience has erupted into cheers, standing and shouting and whistling. Victor is panting, and he simply pulls his gaze away from Yuuri, and they both bow, and Victor briefly sees Gergiev clapping proudly.
Yuuri walks over to him, and they grasp onto each other, and bow once more together, and when they stand back up, Victor realizes that Yuuri is crying and then he realizes that he is also crying, and nothing except that matters.
“Could you hear it?” Yuuri asks, and Victor smiles brightly at him.
“I love you,” Victor responds, and he doesn’t care that the audience is still cheering, still clapping, still whistling, he kisses Yuuri proudly right then and there, and the cheering only increases.
(Their love echoed off the walls of this concert hall, their love danced between the notes, their love opened another world completely, perhaps even a galaxy. Now, as Victor plays his violin, love will resonate wildly.)
“The true mission of the violin is to imitate the accents of the human voice, a noble mission that has earned for the violin the glory of being called the king of instruments”
—Charles-Auguste de Beriot