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There are 3,140,000 results on Google Search for why you should meet your idol. Meeting your idol could allow you to tell them personally how much they mean to you and can inspire you to be more like your idol.
However, there are 20,300,000 reasons why you shouldn't meet your idol.
The results go on and on about how meeting your idol can only lead to misfortune. They - whoever they are - say that it is a bad idea. They tell you of multiple horror stories of meeting their own idol.They warn you that you’ll only be disappointed.They claim they are only trying to help you before you get hurt.
So when Yuuri Katsuki heard his idol would be in Detroit, he immediately bought a VIP pass as a way to say ‘fuck you’ to the haters. He wouldn’t be swayed by everyone who has tried to convince him that meeting his favourite author would be a bad idea.
Victor Nikiforov is everything to Yuuri. So to simply be in the vicinity of him, let alone speak to the man face to face, is everything Yuuri ever wanted.
Now here he is just moments away from meeting the famous author. Well, not really moments away - more like a few thousand people away.
Yuuri is towards the back of an incredibly long line that wraps around the large book twice but he is excited all the same. He wishes he came earlier but he supposes he couldn’t afford to miss both his prac He nervously bounces his leg as the line creeps closer to the end, wondering when it would be their turn.
Yes, their turn. As in, he has a friend who shares (or at least understands) his obsession with Victor Nikiforov. Phichit Chulanont, is actually the one who encouraged Yuuri to buy the VIP tickets for the book signing. He is thankful that Phichit decided to skip his skating practice just to come with Yuuri to meet Victor.
However, he isn't so thankful who he is standing next to. He is smushed between an obnoxious teenaged girl who is live streaming the event to her friends and a father who looks like he would rather be anywhere else but here.
"Everyone with green bands, please move to the back of the store," a monotone voice said over the loud speaker.
Yuuri lets out a breath of air and checks over his band twice, making absolutely sure that his bracelet is in fact green (which it is) and that it is finally time to meet Victor.
He follows the crowd of fans with bright green wrist bands towards the back of the store. He is roughly shoved a few times - which reminds him how much he absolutely loathes crowds - but he reminds himself it is all worth it to meet Victor.
The crowd neatly files into another line that leads to a room in the back of the bookstore. The room is usually used for book club meetings and elderly yoga, but today it houses the most famous author of all time. Okay, maybe not the most famous author of all time but certainly one of the most famous authors of the 21st century.
The room is guarded by a group of intimidating security officers and the man Yuuri recognizes as Victor's manager.
"I can't believe we're going to meet Victor Nikiforov!" Phichit exclaims, practically gushing at the mere thought that he would be face to face with his favourite author.
Yuuri only nods, the words caught in his throat. He doesn't know how to express in any words how conflicted he feels. On the one hand, he is rather excited to meet the man that has arguably stolen his heart, However, there is a lingering fear that Victor cannot meet his ridiculously high expectations and Yuuri will leave feeling disappointed.
"He's so inspiring," Yuuri settles for.
He clutches the book to his chest in hope that it held some telepathic connection that could somehow communicate to Victor how much he adores all of Victor’s books, but especially his most recent book. The book is so much different than his previous novels. While they were good books - Yuuri would be lying if he says he didn't read them multiple times - they never felt right to him. Yuuri finds them to be too fake, as if they were written by any author to sell to gullible teenage girls for a pay check. Albeit, they were good but just simply not as good as his first few novels.
Call him a Victor Nikiforov hipster or snob if you must, but he truly believes his early work is much better. Ever since his friend showed him In Regards To Love, Yuuri couldn’t stop reading his books. The way Victor could create such compelling stories was something he believed no one else is capable of. Everything from the tragic story in Eros to the range of relationships in Agape, Victor could do perfectly.
Yuuri fell in love with the eloquence of his first few novels. How the reader could truly become immersed in his characters and in his world. But he truly believes Stammi Vicino is a return to that style. This one is raw and emotional in a way his books have been lacking. Sure, maybe it didn't have as much of a commercial and critical success as Shattered Hearts, but he supposes the mainstream will never understand what a true masterpiece Stammi Vicino is.
Okay, Yuuri may be a bit bias in this situation. Maybe because his name is so close to the main character or that it is a story about about ice skating that Yuuri finds some sort of connection but he truly feels immersed in Victor's newest novel.
He turns to Phichit, hoping to converse about how inspiring Stammi Vicino is, for them especially. However, his friend seems to have other ideas about his favourite thing about Victor.
"Plus, he's hot too," Phichit points out rather crudely.
Yuuri clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth. Of course Phichit would say that. Everyone seems to focus on his appearance; albeit is his attractive - or rather stunning in every sense of the word. His eyes shine a blue that rivals a summer morning and his hair glows like the pale moon.
But Yuuri knows Victor is more than just a beautifully face to an equally beautiful mind. Although, Yuuri would be amiss for not appreciating his dashing good looks.
"But not as hot as the guy they got to play Yuri. Damn he's fine," Phichit says. He swoons at the mere mention of some popular actor the studio chose as the lead actor in the movie adaptation of Victor's latest book.
Yuuri, however, isn't convinced. If Yuuri were being completely honest, he always pictured Victor Nikiforov as Five Time World Champion Yuri Plisetsky.
"Is it bad that I always pictured Victor as Yuri?" Yuuri vocalizes, his voice small.
He knows he is in the minority - everyone praised the casting decision of famous actor Jean-Jaques Leroy as Yuri - but Yuuri would disagree. Yes, the actor is beautiful and all - strong jawline and washboard abs that Yuuri would be not to admit was handsome - but the casting doesn't feel right to Yuuri. He is too muscular and too arrogant to be Yuri Plisetsky. He always pictures someone more graceful, with soft features and blue eyes and platinum hair and basically Victor Nikiforov.
Phichit sticks out his tongue as if he is disgusted by Yuuri's suggestion.
"Ugh, he's so not Yuri. Yuri is supposed to be the most beautiful person in the world!"
Yuuri scowls. Victor is the most beautiful person in the world. His hair is always perfectly parted to one side; his skin is devoid of an imperfections; and his body is the perfect combination of lean yet muscular.
Yuuri opens his mouth to argue but Phichit beats him to it.
"Plus, he's supposed to be a skater," he adds, anticipating Yuuri's argument.
Yuuri rolls his eyes. He supposes two could play that game.
"Victor was one back when he was younger," Yuuri argues with a triumphant smirk.
"Oh my gosh," Phichit gawks. He brings one hand up to his mouth to emphasize how absolutely amazed he is at this revelation. "You're such a stalker!"
Yuuri crosses his arms over his chest. He certainly isn't about to be called a stalker by the one person who could find someone on Facebook by a description of their hair.
"I'm not a stalker!" he defends weakly.
Phichit raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, challenging Yuuri's weak protest.
"Someone posted an old video of him ice skating. He was pretty good,” Yuuri adds.
Yuuri remembers when he found the old video on Instagram. He immediately ran into Phichit’s room and played the video on repeat until he memorized the performance. It’s set to a rather boring orchestral number that Yuuri recognizes as Beethoven but it could have been Mozart for all he knew. To his credit, it is a grainy video that barely shows the beauty and grace of Victor’s performance. He could hardly even detect the two triple axels in the pixelated footage.
He knows there are other videos of Victor’s other performances but he seems to always return to that specific one. The one of Victor at his Junior Grand Prix Finals with long flowing hair and a tight black outfit. The routine is enthralling, almost ethereal and he has to admit the performance is rather good for someone of that age.
“Not as good as me,” Phichit argues with a pout.
Yuuri rolls his brown eyes.
"No one is as good as Bronze Medalist Phichit Chulanont, National Champion of Thailand," Yuuri praises.
Phichit places a hand on his hip. "How about World Champion Katsuki Yuuri?"
Yuuri turns bright red. He isn't accustomed to people calling him World Champion quite yet, although he doesn't think he will ever be comfortable with people referring to him as a World Champion.
"Shut up," he says. He playfully pushes Phichit which makes him stumble slightly.
"You're right. You're no Junior Champion Victor Nikiforov," he responds with a smirk. “With his triple axel and bondage outfit.”
Yuuri rolls his eyes, something he seems to be doing more often than not.
“And in a few minutes you’ll be talking to him!” he continues. “Are your ready?”
"No,” Yuuri confesses. He feels his chest tighten, his breaths becoming laboured as he exhales. His eyes lock onto the ground, memorizing the pattern on the carpet. It's an ugly carpet with yellow stars tiled on a dark blue background and he wonders what it would look like if he vomits on it. Would it be noticeable? Would his morning’s food make the carpet look better?
"Why not? You have your gift and everything. Plus, we practiced like a billion times,” Phichit reminds him in an effort to calm him down.
He inhales and exhales in a forced but steady rhythm. He knows Victor is just another human being after all. He doesn’t need to be so worked up about this.
And yet, he can’t help how fast his heart seems to be beating as if it wants to leap out of his chest. He wonders if Phichit can hear how loud it is.
"What if I mess up?" Yuuri asks, not meeting his gaze.
"You won't mess up," Phichit assures him.
Yuuri chews on his bottom lip, a nervous habit he has yet to break.
"What if I spill something on him?"
"Yuuri, this isn't a movie. You're not going to spill anything. You're going to go up to him, give him your gift, and he's going to sign your book."
He places a hand on Yuuri's shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. However, Yuuri stiffens at the touch and Phichit takes it as a sign to remove his hand.
"But what if he doesn't like the gift?" he asks.
"He'll like it. Everyone likes free shit," he reassures him with a grin.
"You think it's shit?" Yuuri asks miserably.
He looks down at the gift. It is terrible, isn't it? It is supposed to be a pillow for his wrist to prevent carpal tunnel, but it looks more like an amorphous blob with an illegible quote stitched on the top.
"No! That's not what I meant! Your gift is perfect. Ugh, Yuuri,” Phichit says with a groan. “We're gonna meet The Victor Nikiforov! Don't you want to meet him?"
"I guess?" Yuuri says, his voice shaky.
"Yuuri, this isn't the time to get cold feet. Now come on. Let's meet Victor."
"Yakov, you know I don't want to do meet and greets anymore," Victor complains with a groan.
He spins around in his chair to face his manager.
"I told you I was retiring. What don't you understand?" he continues.
Yakov exhales, already exhausted with Victor. He certainly does not want to deal with Victor's behaviour right before he has to deal with screaming fans.
"Retiring from writing sure but not retiring from public appearances," he reminds Victor.
"I'm retiring, period," Victor responds with a frown. "Stop making me do this."
"You need to promote your book," his manager scolds him.
Victor rolls his eyes. That's all Yakov seems to care about; it's all everyone seems to care about. It makes Victor sick.
"What are you talking about? Stammi Vicino is selling just fine," he claims. He stubbornly crosses his arms over his chest to further prove his point.
"Just fine doesn't keep food on the table," Yakov warns him.
"It's the best selling book of the year, somehow," Victor mutters under his breath.
Yakov furrows his eyebrows. He knows Victor is testing him, just waiting to get some sort of reaction from his manager. He will not give in to Victor’s childish behaviour, no matter how much he wants to.
"Is it too hard for your to sign a few books?" he asks, rationally.
"Yes," Victor complains dramatically, drawling my out the 's' just to annoy his manager.
He knows it is unbecoming to complain about something so trivial as a book signing. He should be thankful for his fans but instead he is whining to his manager about the mere thought of meeting them for two hours of his time. He knows he should consider himself lucky, not many authors were famous enough to even have book signings let alone managers and yet Victor takes his fame for granted. That thought, however, doesn't change the fact that he wants to leave.
"You're already here. Just do it," Yakov argued.
Victor pinches the bridge of his nose. He certainly doesn't want to be here - not at a book signing, not in the United States, and certainly not in some rundown bookstore in Detroit of all places.
He would much rather be in his home, cuddling with his beloved pet poodle and sipping on a cup of warm tea. He wants to enjoy his so called retirement (which Yakov refuses to acknowledge as anything more than a vacation) without the hassle of being a famous author anymore and he most certainly does not want to be here.
"What if I don't wanna?" Victor challenges with a smirk.
He places his feet on the desk, showing absolutely no signs of being respectful. He knows he’s being immature, maybe even childish, but he needs to get his point across to his manager somehow. And if acting like a child is the only way to do it, then so be it.
"Don't get full of yourself. How hard is it to smile and sign paper?" Yakov lectures.
Victor groans. No, it isn't particularly hard to force a smile and sign a few hundred papers (although he would argue that his wrist would often cramp from signing but that was minor pain). And no, he actually loves meeting with his fans (even if they are all teenage girls that are more interested in the romantic subplots and who is going to the play in main character in the movie than his actual writing style); he sincerely enjoys conversing with them.
It is particularly hard, however, to pretend that he is content with the absolute rubbish he produced. Stammi Vicino - or rather Stay Close To Me as Americans often referred to it as - is supposed to be his magnum opus, the final piece for everyone to remember him with. However, there is nothing special about the lazily written story he created.
"I'm not asking you to write another novel," Yakov continues, his tone lighter.
Victor sighs. He knows that Yakov is only trying to his job. And, okay, he knows that he may be acting a bit spoiled.
"Fine," he agrees rather reluctantly. "But I'm doing this for my fans, not for you."
Yakov cracks just the smallest of smiles, one that Victor almost misses. "Alright. It'll be over before you know it."
Victor is tired. There's no eloquent way (even with his rather extensive vocabulary) to describe the aching pain in his wrist from the hundreds of signatures he is writing.
He probably signed at least five hundred signatures and he is growing bored of the monotony. He's sick of hearing how wonderful his novel is and would rather vomit before forcing another smile for another fan who wants a selfie.
He waves goodbye to another teenage girl when a group of two boys (men?) walk in. He isn't unfamiliar to males reading his novels - his books were written to be gender neutral after all - but there seems something different about these two.
He easily attributes it their age. He places their age between a modest twenty one and a conservative twenty five. Aside from a few parents who were accompanying their children, it is clear that they are some of the oldest people that came to the book signing.
However, he begins to realize that their age isn’t the only thing that intrigues him. There's something almost familiar about the two, but for some reason he can't place their features with anyone he remembers.
The first of the group is rather boring to Victor. He has dark skin and dark eyes to match. He has an unfashionable bowl cut and a smile that seems permanently plastered on his face. Victor does, however, appreciate his custom made ‘I love Victor Nikiforov’ crop top but finds nothing else of interest about him. Hewrites him off to be a typical fanboy: he wants a signature and a selfie just to brag to his friends about how absolutely amazing it was to meet the famous author.
The other, however, is much harder to simply call a typical fan. He is obviously a fan - he wouldn’t be so nervous if he isn’t - but there is something so charming about him. Not to mention he is arguably the most beautiful human Victor has have the pleasure of meeting. And that's saying a lot given the amount of influential people he has met. He isn't sure what word in his extensive vocabulary he should use to describe him. Enchanting? Alluring? Beautiful?
"Hello Victor," he says shyly, a blush rising on his cheeks.
Victor tries not to linger on how beautiful his name sounds from his lips. He wonders how his pink lips would feel pressed on his mouth sucking lower until it reaches his --
He tries to forget that dirty imagery and focuses on the reality in front of him. Victor scans the person in front of him, memorizing his soft features. He drinks in his radiant eyes that nervous glance to the floor and black hair that perfectly frames his face. He's wearing a rather hideous red sweatshirt with Japan printed on the front. Although, his rather hideous hideous style is redeemed by his tight leggings which leave little room to imagine how thick his thighs are. Victor noticed when he raises his hands, just the slightest swell of his lower stomach and a few stretch marks are revealed. Some may say his entire look a bit tacky - he's only one step away from being a fashion disaster - but Victor is impressed with how effortlessly beautiful he is.
"And to whom am I making this out to?" Victor asks, trying to remain professional but attempting to sound sexy at the same time.
Instead, it seems his attempts at flirting have only made the mystery man more nervous. He is now pulling on the hem of his sleeves, tugging on a lose string that hangs from the end.
He hopes to hear the shy boy speak again. He wonders what beautiful name would fit the most beautiful man.
However, his friend answers by saying "I'm Phichit and this is Yuuri. We're big fans!"
Victor ignores the last part because of course they are big fans. They would not be at a book signing if they weren't.
"Yuri?" he asks with a chuckle. He isn't aware that Yuri is a popular name; he chose it for his character thinking it would be an original name. Aside from his cousin, he never met anyone with the name and certainly no one outside of Russia would have such a name.
"Like the main character?" he adds.
"My name has two Us," he clarifies.
Victor raises an eyebrow.
"It's Japanese."
"Mm, Yuuri," he says, rolling the name in his mouth. He likes the way his name feels on his tongue, the way he has to hold onto the name to emphasize the extra U. He wonders how it would sound when he’s close to climax, screaming out for him to continue to pleasure him --
"I'm glad you could come today," he adds out of courtesy, trying to rid his mind of his dirty thoughts.
"I made you a pillow." He holds out the gift as if it's some sort of offering.
Victor scans it skeptically. It seems to be hand stitched pillow with a quote expertly embroidered on the front.
“No tale is more compelling than one that never ends?” he asks, reading out the words.
“It’s from your first book. Do you like it? It's not much but it's supposed to help with joint pain.”
Victor isn't sure how to respond to such a gift. He usually receives useless presents like pens or fan art or even fresh baked cookies. He ends up throwing most of the stuff away, aside from a few well mad pieces of art. But this, this pillow is beyond any gift he has ever received.
"Are you insinuating that I'm old?" Victor asks without thinking.
He immediately regrets his word choice when he sees Yuuri's face turn red.
"No it's just that...I um...I just thought-"
"I'm just joking with you. Thank you, Yuuri. I don't normally receive such thoughtful gifts. Usually I get stuff I'll never use but this is actually useful."
"Phichit helped," he blurts quickly.
"I did not!" his friend (who's name Victor has no intention on remembering) claims. He turns to Victor and adds "I wanted to get you something ice skating related but Yuuri refused."
Victor laughed (yes, sincerely laughs) at their banter.
"So do you like ice skating?"
"Yes," says Yuuri automatically.
"And we're pretty good, if I do say so myself."
Victor raises his eyebrows. He doubts that the two are as good as they claim to be. They are probably just saying that they adored ice skating to appease Victor, just like all the others. He sincerely doubts Yuuri could lead him onto the ice, holding his hand as he struggles to skate a loop around the rink.
He tries not to get his hopes up. There is no possible way he is a professional or anything of the sorts. He would be surprised if they could even go on the ice without falling. He supposes that would be a feat in itself - the ice is not so forgiving - so he supposed that holds some merit.
"As good as Yuri?" Victor asks, his tone light. Of course no one was as good as Yuri. Yuri was a fictional character that could land four quads in a performance, one being a jump no professional has yet to land.
“That's impossible," Phichit argues. "No one can land a Quadruple Flip yet, although I hear the World Champion is trying."
"Oh. That's good. I don't really follow the sport anymore," Victor confesses with a sigh. "I used to when I was competitive but I had to stop and get a 'real job. Maybe I’ll start if the World Champion lands a quadruple flip."
"Well I'm sure he'll make you proud and land one this season."
"Phichit!" Yuuri exclaims. He elbows his friend in the stomach as some sort of punishment, but Victor isn't exactly sure for what.
"Time's up," Yakov reminds him, walking into the room. He points at his watch in a demanding way.
"No, it's okay,” he says more to Yuuri than he does to Yakov. “Let them stay another minute. Please."
Yakov lets out a huff and mutters something about Victor being a bastard before walking out of the room.
Victor places his head in his hands. "What did you like about my book, aside the skating, of course?"
Maybe it is egotistical to ask, but he is genuinely curious what the they have to say - or mainly what Yuuri has to say.
"Everything!" Phichit answers easily.
Victor forces a smile for the sake of forcing a smile. He hears that response from others countless times today. They all like everything about the book: the characters, the setting, the details in the ice skating. It all seems superficial to him and Victor knows better than to believe them at this point.
His book is nothing more than a collection of overused tropes about longing for unattainable love that seems to appeal only to young girls. And the worst part is that Victor knows this. Victor knows the absolute garbage he produced with his last and (hopefully) final release. He hears the complaints from his editors for days on end. The characters are shallow and one dimensional; the plot is overdone and cliche; the ending is lackluster.
He is becoming predictable. He has always prided himself on being able to surprise his audience but now he can’t even do that. He is surprised it got such high praise from critics and even a plan for a theatrical release. He almost doubts that this Phichit kid has even read the book. If he had read the book - which he doubts he did - he wouldn't be saying that he liked everything.
He turns to Yuuri, expecting the same generic response. Something along the lines of 'I really like that Yuri character' or 'I love the winter theme' or even 'I'm excited for the movie' that is the same nonsense that he has been hearing all day. He expects so little of Yuuri and supposes something boring is bound to be his answer.
Instead, Yuuri responds by saying "it reminds me a lot of your first few books."
Victor blinks twice.
"It's just so different from what everyone expected from you. In a good way," he adds as if it's an after thought.
Victor gawks at his response. He is impressed - genuinely impressed - with Yuuri's critiques.
Victor leans forward on the table. "How so?" he asks.
Yuuri, however, seems caught off guard by the question. He furrows his eyebrows as if he’s confused.
"Well a lot of people saw that you were writing about ice skating and said it would be cliche. I thought it is perfectly done."
"So you like the ice skating?"
"The ice skating is fine, there's a few technical errors but nothing too noticeable."
Victor visible pouts at that. He thinks he did a thorough job researching male figure skating for the past year. He knows all of the intricacies, even learned some of the more technical terms. So he can’t help but be a bit offended by Yuuri’s statement.
"But I really love the ending," Yuuri says, breaking Victor from his thoughts. "You usually have really concrete endings, which isn't bad but it just doesn't leave anything open for interpretation. Yuri ends with his gold medal, sure, but he is still longing for something else in his life. It really made me rethink how something you love can also be a prison. I'm sorry I'm rambling at this point. You probably hear this all the time."
"No, it's cute."
Yuuri blushes, the tips of his ears turning a bright red. Victor finds it endearing.
"And honestly, I haven't really thought about it that way."
"Really?"
"Yeah,” Victor agrees. “I mostly think it's about the relationships. About a longing love that Yuri doesn't even realize he wants or needs. That even though his life may seem glitzy on the outside, that he's only a hollow shell of his former self."
Yuuri pauses. He seems unsure of what to say. "That's so....poetic," he settles for.
"Maybe I should start writing poems then. Do you think anyone would read them?" Victor asks with a smirk.
"Well I can't speak for anyone else but I would read anything you produce."
"Even if I wrote terrible young adult books where vampires sparkle in the sun?"
Yuuri chuckles. Victor thinks it must be the sound angels make.
"Yes, I probably would."
"Time's up, Victor. You have 50 more people to get through and then you're done," Yakov insists.
Victor lets out a sigh. He supposes he cannot argue with Yakov any longer. As much as he would love to continue and discuss his book with Yuuri - or just listen to him talk about anything, for that matter - he did have their obligations to his fans. He wouldn't hear the end of Yakov's rants if he ignored everyone for Yuuri.
"Ah, okay," he agrees reluctantly. He turns back to Yuuri and Phichit. "Here, let me sign your books."
Victor reaches for Yuuri’s friend’s book first. He opens the front cover of Phichit's copy of Stammi Vicino, expertly removing the wine coloured book jacket. He easily writes something generic along the lines of ‘To My Biggest Fan, Love Victor’.
He returns the book before grabbing for Yuuri’s. His hand brushes against Yuuri's hand for just the briefest of moments but long enough to notice how soft his hand feels. His tries not to linger on that fact and instead focuses his attention on the book. He looks down at the book, inspecting the front page. He notices that Yuuri's book isn't Stammi Vicino; it’s much too thin and is still in Russian. Rather, it is an obscure book, one he thought no one even read, one he wrote back before he was a world renowned author.
In Regards To Love.
He long forgot about that his first book, barely recalling what the book was even about. Yuuri, on the other hand, seems to have loved this book. It's obviously worn judging by the folds in the spine and the yellow pages. Not to mention the cover is no longer legible and the jacket sleeve is missing.
He opens the book and easily writes out a small message for Yuuri on the first page. He hands the book back, his hands touching once more before leaving.
"Thanks for the talk and good luck with your ice skating."
"You really hit it off with Victor! He was so flirting with you,” Phichit claims as the two exit the room.
"Come on, stop teasing," Yuuri says with a scoff. He follows the signs out of the bookstore, trying to forget about Phichit’s claim. Victor isn't flirting with him, no matter what Phichit says.
"But now I have a signed copy!” Phichit says and opens his book. “His handwriting is beautiful. I wonder how much this is worth!"
Yuuri follows suit, opening the book to the first page. Right below the title is a handwritten note in beautiful cursive.
Victor Nikiforov
555-XXXX
Call me
There may be 20,300,000 reasons why they say not to meet your idol but Yuuri supposes they aren't always right.