Work Text:
Chistophe listened to the rain outside--the rain that should have been snow--and ran his hand through his curls. He picked up his phone to flip through the few digital pictures he had of Andre. So many more tossed in the fire.
He came across an accidental picture, of skin and limbs of two distinct people but no way to tell who or what parts. But Chris knew. He could recall the exact moment this had been taken, and how and where he and Andre had been wrapped around each other. Chris had been in the middle of deleting some more salacious pictures, temporaries that were just for fun in the moment, and he had almost dropped his phone when Andre mumbled ‘I love you’ for the first time. Then he drew his index finger down Chris’s spine, breaking the cuddle tangle and initiating round three.
Christophe sighed. He knew he owed a debt to Victor and Yuuri that could never be repaid. They were true friends, each of them, but so much more than that. When he got the text (of all things) that Andre had broken up with him, only a week before his birthday, he actually felt his heart stop beating. But they had distracted and comforted and given him exactly what he needed after such a heart-wrenching break up. Without even knowing it, they’d given him the focus and strength to finish his last season with dignity instead of a depressed and mopey downward spiral.
Merde , that moment when he had realized how much Andre reminded him of a young Victor, and no wonder he fallen so hard. Andre was dark where Victor was light, but both had had the long hair that bounced and flowed with the energy of their personality.
Christophe had fallen hard and fast, per usual, and Andre had genuinely tried his best to keep up. He showed him he loved him in the ways he knew how. But at seventeen Andre didn't have much experience with mature relationships and, in retrospect, Christophe could see that he was scared by talk of moving in together. Little wonder Andre had cut and run when he planned a foursome with a much more committed couple, one Christophe had been with before.
There was a part of Christophe that wanted so much to love and to be loved. From a young age he'd fallen head over heels for whoever sparked his interest. For some reason, it had been different with Victor. The proximity, Victor’s singular focus to his art, the friendship that continued and flexed and changed with the years. Whatever the reason, his love for Victor--and then for Yuuri, a separate piece of the same puzzle--was different from anything else in his life. A different kind of love. A fire with no smoke. Despite that, and maybe because of it, when he looked back with a bit of perspective it was the most fulfilling feeling of love he'd felt in a long time. Maybe ever.
Of all people Muhammad had tried the hardest despite his favorite saying of ‘Distance makes the heart grow fonder.’ That man was quite a mystery. He had even taken his holiday time at work to accompany Christophe to the Grand Prix final. Little good it had done in the long run when Christophe shut him out after a very disappointing loss.
Maybe Christophe just wasn't built to be one half of a whole. Even with his longings for love. Maybe he should stop chasing the same experiences of lost love. Christophe sat up with a far away look in his eyes. Maybe he should take what he had felt with Victor and Yuuri, and Sara, and Celestino, and the others featured in his photography. Those were the experiences that were meaningful to him. They didn't sour with time and heartache. Those moments lived on, forever captured on film.
That last one was my antidote
So what do I do now?
I don't keep love around, anymore.