Chapter Text
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Viktor Nikiforov was having an internal crisis of epic porportions.
He had looked over previous portfolios of his, examined other artists' work, and had even started walking down the street hoping for some bright spark. But he just couldn't seem to find inspiration. When he had first broken in to the photography scene, his case was unusual in the fact that he was accepted readily. His photos told stories of love without needing difinite subjects. It was up to the viewer how the story unfolded, and that 'surprise factor' had made him quite popular. But one could only surprise their audience for so long. His art had been displayed on three continents, he'd participated in dozens of shows, and now his own cynicism was banging on the door of his apartment demanding that he put his camera down for good.
Damn it.
Makkachin whined at her owner's distress. He put on a smile for her sake, rubbing the large, brown poodle behind her ears.
"I'm fine, милый (dear). Why don't we go for a quick evening stroll, hm?"
Makkachin perked up immediately at the promise of outside. Viktor smiled more genuinely. Makka always managed to cheer him up; this was just what he needed. All he had to do was take his mind off of his artist's block for an hour or two. But he still grabbed his camera, though.
(Just in case.)
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It was truly almost spring. The chill of winter was trying its hardest to fight to maintain its hold, but it would simply not be deterred. He was grateful that the warm rain had won out over the freezing snow this time; he hadn't needed his heavy coat.
(He winced at the amount of mud Makka was no doubt going to track back into the loft, however.)
Students from the college campus nearby were hustling and bustling past him left and right, and Viktor felt a twinge of nostalgia. He remembered his days there as a photography major, before he realised that it was nothing like what he'd expected. They had put strict guidelines on what exactly he could and could not turn in, and he had kicked that to the curb. It had worked out for him in the end, though, so his counselors hadn't known what they were talking about.
He snapped a few photos just because. He was clicking through them when one caught his eye, and held it. That was something that hadn't happened in quite literally almost four months. A young man stood out against the crowd of other students. He was a little on the short side, and had a mop of dark, messy hair curled around his ears. He was also plumper than your conventional model, but that almost made him seem more...unique than other photographer's subjects.
Viktor's head whipped back and forth searching for him. Luck was on his side when he caught him entering a building a few blocks down.
He had to get a closer look.
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He had left Makka at home the next night. He didn't know if animals were allowed into the building, and he couldn't let his inspiration get away from him. He apologized profusely to his dog in his mind once more, and resolved to pick her up some treats later.
(But for now, he had more important things to focus on.)
The building had turned out to be a dance studio. Minako's, the sign read. He hoped that his mystery man was in there. Viktor was aware that his actions could possibly come off as a bit stalker-esque, but he was an artist going through a slump. He was desperate, and willing to do pretty much anything at this point. So he tightened the grip on his camera and hip-checked the door. It was unlocked, and so the photographer slipped inside.The wood floors creaked a little under his weight as he scanned the area. No sight of him. But there was a light on at the end of the hallway. Viktor silently cheered. There he was. He hustled over to the doorway, and crouched low.
And promptly had the breath knocked out of him.
The young man was unaware of his presence, and was obliviously tying his slippers. His glasses were missing from his face as well. Overall, he looked like an almost completely different person than who he saw yesterday. He took a photo. Decent, but what he wouldn't give for a shot of his eyes...
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Katsuki Yuuri stretched out his quads, thinking absently about the English assignment he'd turned in a few hours earlier. It hadn't felt like his best work, but both Phichit and Leo had assured him that it was fine. He'd been worrying about it for almost two weeks (on top of his various other assignments). But thank the heavens, Minako, a family friend (who owned a dance studio where Yuuri had been practising since he was young), had given him basically free-reign of her building. So long as he didn't leave any trash behind or scuff the floors, he was allowed to dance there to his heart's content.
This kept him mostly sane in his manic life. Compunded with his struggle against anxiety, he needed all of the peace and zen he could get.
He absent-mindedly spun once...twice...thrice on his way over to the speakers. He had found a cover of Lady Gaga's Applause, and had been choreographing a routine for it for about a month. Piano music mixed with viola, and the smooth tenor urged him into motion. Minako had told him that it was a shame that his bravura would never see the light of day. He didn't think so. It wasn't as though he was a pro or anything. He just matched his dancing to the music, is all. He ticked off the positions and movements in his head in adagio timing. Then came his rotations, quicker and quicker...
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Viktor watched in awe as the dancer whipped around and around, eyes closed. He didn't seem to be struggling for breath at all, despite the song seemingly coming to an end. He had never taken so many photos so quickly in succession before. But every moment this dancer performed seemed like it was just destined to be documented. And Viktor had made it his job to do so. Part of him still felt guilty about taking his photo without permission, but he didn't feel guilty enough to delete them. The music did come to an end, and so did the danseur's routine. He took this as his cue to leave. And if he sat on his couch and stared at the dozens of photos he had taken that night, well, he was the only one who knew.
His heart sank when he realized that he didn't even know his muse's name.
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