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Viktor cannot help but admire the way the strobe lights fall on the sparkling suit the lead actor on set has donned, and wishes his had the same, if not brighter sparkle. Even so, he should be grateful for what he has on, because he would be scolded for just thinking of buying such a jacket should his mother find out. He jumped up and down and cheered loudly, hoping he wouldn’t be the anomaly in the crowd. He always did his best, but that never ensured success especially in the acting industry. Beside him, he could see Georgi cheering in a similar fashion as the lead actor made another lap around the stage. Viktor harbored his dreams of being in the latter’s place well beyond the director’s ‘CUT!’ and the scolding he received for almost walking off set with his not-so-shiny-jacket, with Georgi gripping him firmly by the elbow while escorting him all the way.
-x-
“Oh Yuurochka, if only I could just speak to you for one day. Unfortunately, that is not possible, so I have to settle for this,” Viktor says, his eyes never straying from the massive billboard in front of him. He pours his feelings and his day’s events to the love of his life, whose chocolate brown eyes, even on a grainy poster, seem to see into the depths of his soul. Once exhausted of those, he leans back on the railing of the bridge, content to just stare, and this is how Georgi finds him hours later. As the latter shakes his head fondly at him, Viktor says, “What I would give to meet him once, Georgi. I know you know how I feel. Oh, what I would give.”
Georgi grins and waves two pieces of paper before his eyes, blocking Viktor his view. “Well you’re in luck. All you have to give is a few hours of your time tonight. I finally managed to get seats for the premiere, and if we hurry, we can make it to the red carpet before too.”
Viktor takes a few minutes to register the blessing in front of him, but when he does he knocks Georgi off his feet, squeezing his protests out of him as they collapse on the floor laughing, “You’re the best Gosha!”
-x-
The chaos at the red carpet is insane, but for once Viktor blocks out his surroundings and enjoys himself to the fullest. Star after star brushes past him and Georgi on their way to the main reporter of the event, and both of them take turns in comforting each other as they combust from the proximity to fame. As Viktor is trying to recover from the fact that the figure skating legend Yakov Feltsman just shook his hand, Georgi almost pulls his arm out of his socket as he yells, “Vitya! He is here!!!”
Viktor turns, and time slows down as he watches a stately blue car’s door open. One pant covered leg emerges, shoe gleaming with expense, shortly followed by a well-defined torso donning a bespoke suit. Viktor eyes rove up the figure, and as the person raises his hand in greeting, blue meets brown and the world stops. Viktor can barely breathe, but he hardly registers that as he watches the sun his life revolves around make his way down the carpet, slicked back hair bowing slightly as he greets his fans. Yuurochka’s sheepish smile makes Viktor’s heart flutter, and all he can do as he walks by is raise his arm, a poor imitation of what his idol had done mere minutes earlier. The dopey expression that Viktor is sure would have been permanent for the red carpet, gets wiped off as the bracelet on his hand gets caught on to a stray thread just on the collar of Yuurochka’s shirt. Viktor stumbles forward in surprise, and somehow manages to make it to the middle of the carpet before Yuurochka realizes. Turning back, Yuurochka raises an eyebrow at Viktor, who manages to control his fanboying to point to their point of entanglement. To make his point, Viktor even tugs lightly, and Yuurochka’s eyes widen in understanding before he smiles at Viktor, and nods. Taking this as a yes, Viktor untangles them, fingers shaking all the while he does so. With a final smile, Yuurochka makes his way to the reporter, and Viktor is unable to contain his composure. Relying on Georgi to support him, as always, Viktor gives up control of his body and thinks ‘Ah Heaven. If I die now, I’ll be content.’
-x-
“Look, I don’t care how much you hate your part, but I got this role for you so that you could work alongside Yuurochka. Even if it’s from a distance, you will be on the same set!” Georgi sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “So just. Stop whining, please.”
“Gosha, you’re allowed to whine too, especially when they take forever to shoot a scene.” When Georgi sends him a piercing glare, Viktor raises his hands in surrender, “Okay okay, I’ll stop. Shall we go see why we’re not getting anywhere?” After Georgi nods his assent, Viktor heads to the front of the set, where a crowd gathers in front of the main actor’s tent. Managing to squeeze their way to the front, both Viktor and Georgi watch in amusement as the director throws his hat on the floor and yells about schedules and willful actors and producers. Hearing a disgruntled sigh beside him, Viktor turns to see an extra named Lee (whether it was his last name or his first Viktor was unsure) frowning at the tent. When Georgi leans around Viktor to ask Lee what was happening, Lee practically spits out, “Stuck up actors think they can hold up a set just because they’re upset. Can’t believe we have to wait for such people to actually shoot a film.”
Viktor frowns, and Georgi quickly adds, “Why is he upset? I mean, do you know the reason?”
Lee scoffs. “Do these people need a reason? Arrogant brats, the whole lot of them.”
“Hey.” Viktor snaps. “Yuurochka is not like that.”
“Oh really?”, Lee drawls, “then I guess I’ve got the wrong celebrity on my list as the lead actor.”
Before Viktor could retaliate, however, a loud cry of relief sounds from the director. As cars roll in one after the other on set, the director lifts himself from where he’d been throwing tantrums on the floor, and all but falls on the producer’s feet as Alexei Ivanovich steps out of the car. “Alexei, please, for God’s sake, talk to Yuurochka.”
Raising a hand to silence the director, Alexei sweeps into the tent wordlessly, and within seconds emerges from the tent, giving the green signal for shooting. The crew is slightly flustered at the speed the producer takes to solve the issue, but the spell is quickly broken, and everyone rushes to get back on schedule.
As Viktor adjusts his belt, he notices Yuurochka emerging from his tent, resplendent in gold. He is not the only one who has noticed his emergence though, Leroy, the other half of the main cast, has also seen him, and makes his way to the irritated star like a predator on the prowl. Puffing his chest out, Leroy runs a hand through his hair as he booms, “Oh dearest Yuurochka, you’re so blessed to be working with me! I swear, after this shoot you will want to be me in both looks and ability!” As Yuurochka mutters, “Not even in my grave.”, Viktor’s displeasure lightens, and he takes his place in the background.
As the scene being shot is a typical damsel in distress scene, Yuurochka, the injured damsel, is supposed to be in the middle of a pile of hay in a village that has been lit in flames, and Leroy is supposed to come to his rescue in a gallant fashion. The set is lit on fire, the director yells action, and Yuurochka plays the perfect damsel in distress. The scene seems to be going well, and soon all that is left to film is the rescue, but it never comes. Viktor watches, horror growing in his stomach with every passing second, as Leroy refuses to jump into the burning set and the director refuses to cut the scene. Yuurochka, unable to get up due to his character’s injury, helplessly screams, “Someone help me! Isn’t there anyone out there to help?”
The seconds ticking by become minutes, and no one except for Viktor seems to care for Yuurochka’s survival. The panic clogs his throat, and after hesitating for only one second longer, Viktor abandons all etiquette and jumps into the scene, gathers Yuurochka up in his arms, and shields him from the flames on their way to the exit. The second they reach safety, Yuurochka is torn away from him, bundled in towels galore while Viktor is left to face the fact that his back is literally on fire, and only Georgi helps him beat it away.
Once treated with the appropriate first aid, Viktor grips an upset Georgi’s hand, “Gosha, I owe you my life as always. Whatever would I do without you?”
Georgi glares at him. “Well who told you to jump into that hellfire?! Did you want to commit suicide? At least you’ve survived for now,” here tears pool in his eyes and he sniffles a few times before continuing, “so that’s good. At least it’s only your back that’s injured, the scars can get covered. If it had got your face you wouldn’t have been able to continue your career.”
The displeasure that Viktor has felt all day bubbles to the surface, and in anger he knocks Georgi’s hand away. “Who cares about a measly career?! In front of Yuurochka’s life, my career is nothing. In fact anything of mine in front of Yuurochka is absolutely nothing. Yuurochka’s presence, Yuurochka’s smile, Yuurochka’s everything is my sustenance. I would jump into hell a hundred times if it meant saving Yuurochka.” Feeling a little annoyed, and a little guilty on seeing Georgi’s head down, Viktor snaps “Look here! Please..” Georgi’s head snaps up, and his eyes widen, brows shooting up to his forehead. Viktor’s own furrow and he demands, “What. What happened?” and he turns around, only to stop short as he realizes that his life’s sustenance has overheard everything.
Viktor’s mouth flaps open and shut as Yuurochka steps forward with a solemn face. “I’ve met so many people who claim that they like me, but I am certain that not one of those people would come to save me the way you did, and for that I am eternally grateful.” Viktor, unable to regain control of his motor functions, uselessly continues to flap his mouth and at this the mood lightens and Yuurochka’s eyes crinkle. “What’s your name? I would love to know.”
When Viktor is still unable to produce any sound after a few minutes, Yuurochka laughs, “Look, I know you’re not mute. If you don’t tell me your name, how will I be able to thank you properly for saving my life?”
Viktor wills something to escape his lips, and as his face turns red in exertion, Georgi takes pity on him and says, “Viktor! His name’s Viktor.”
“Nice to meet you Viktor.” The warm smile directed his way is not a new sight, but the fact that he’s the direct recipient of it turns his knees to jelly, and Viktor barely breathes a “Pleasure is all mine” out as they shake hands.
-x-
Bouncing on the balls of his feet, Georgi rubs his hands together in an attempt to make them warm while Viktor groans next to him. Sending an exasperated glance at his best friend Georgi says, “Viktor don’t overthink it. Sing some songs to pass the time.”
“But Gosha, what if he doesn’t come?” Viktor whines.
“He wouldn’t have agreed to meet you if he couldn’t come. Now, lets sing while in wait.”
After approximately fifteen minutes of tunelessly loud renditions of Russian nursery rhymes, a taxi pulls up before the two. As they owlishly stare at the new arrival, the door opens and a figure in all black, face obscured by a hood, looms over the two crouched on the sidewalk. “Uhm, hi. It’s me.” And Yuurochka’s face slightly emerges from the slightly lifted hood.
Viktor immediately bolts to attention, and Georgi scrambles to do the same. “You came!” He didn’t know his smile could stretch so wide, but when Yuurochka’s smile emerges in response, Viktor cannot help the length of his stretching further. “I’m sorry I’m a bit late, it was hard trying to leave unnoticed.”, Yuurochka adds sheepishly, and Viktor wonders how often one would have to feel like combusting to actually combust on the spot.
“It’s okay. Gosha was worried you might not show up-“, Georgi squawks in indignation, “-but I had faith in you. Besides, we found a way to occupy ourselves.”
As Georgi grumbles, Yuurochka giggles and reaches in his coat pocket. Locking eyes with Viktor, he giggles once more, producing a package while saying, “I’m really grateful to you for inviting me out today, and even more so for the way you saved my life yesterday. This is just a small token of my appreciation.” Trembling, Viktor accepts the package with as much care as his lanky body can muster and on unwrapping his present, his breath catches. Staring at one of the prettiest snow globes containing mini figure skaters mid pose, Viktor finds himself as enraptured by the gift as he is by Yuurochka’s posters.
“I’ll treasure it.”
As they make their way on the empty set, Georgi sets up music to a waltz and arranges the lights to emit hues of purples and blues, and Viktor extends a hand to Yuurochka, “Shall we?”
-x-
Three days later, Viktor and Georgi lounge on the grass by the set during one of their breaks when Viktor notices a commotion by the adjacent set. Lifting his head up, he sees Yuurochka storming out of a set in a huff, his poor manager barely able to keep up. Curious, Viktor barely placates an idling Georgi before making his way after Yuurochka, who has entered the stately building set aside for top actors. Making his way down one of the hallways, he is momentarily distracted by the intricacies in the wall, but the grumbling of the security guards he had slipped past startles him, and he ducks into the nearest room. His idle exploration of the room is put on hold as he hears angry voices being carried over from the vent connecting to the adjacent room. As they get louder, Viktor realizes in surprise that one of them happens to be Yuurochka.
“How do you explain this then!” Yuurochka’s tone makes Viktor flinch, and he scrambles to make it to the vent. Peering through the slits, he can barely distinguish the other figure in the room to be the up and coming producer Alexei Ivanovich standing opposite Yuurochka, who flings a magazine at him. “This says you’re going to marry Kuznetsov’s daughter and get his studios as a form of dowry!”
Alexei pinches his nose, dark brows furrowed together. “Yuurochka, you know these magazines are just gossip hoarders. Not all that’s in there is true. Besides, Kuznetsov’s invested millions in this next film so please, don’t make a fuss. Think of the benefits.”
Yuurochka scoffs, his face twisting in disgust. “Benefits. That’s all you ultimately care about, don’t you? That aside, I’d like to know how exactly you’re going to marry his daughter, seeing as you’re married to my sister.”
Viktor’s brows rise in surprise. He did not know that Yuurochka had a sister.
“Just because she’s unable to move doesn’t make her any less of a human. And what about me? I’m the only reason you’ve reached where you are now. If it wasn’t for Mariya and her relation to me, you wouldn’t be anywhere at all.”
“And what will you do if I marry his daughter?”
The frigid stare Yuurochka pins Alexei with makes even Viktor quake in fear. “Tell the world of course. About everything.”
Viktor watches Alexei grab Yuurochka’s hand and squeeze it tightly. “You….” But he then catches himself, and smooths the wrinkled sleeve instead. “You’re right. I’ll call it off then.”
Yuurochka’s expression lightens. “As long as Mariya is well treated, I’m okay.”
“Hm.”
Viktor turns away.
-x-
Watching the figure skaters twirl as snow falls on them, Viktor turns the globe in his hands, deep in thought. Perched on the edge of the fountain in front of the same building, he is still dumbfounded, months later, that the one celebrity whose life seemed to be the epitome of perfect, lived one that was as imperfect as the rest of the world. He supposed he wouldn’t have been as shocked if Yuurochka was less adept at his work, or found his fans trying, or had a strain in his smile as he addressed thousands. Maybe the shock would have been less if he hadn’t met Yuurochka, because now someone who he personally knew was not as happy as he deserved to be, and it made Viktor melancholic.
The hum of an engine broke his reverie and he quickly ducked behind a pillar as a car rolled up, with Yuurochka and Alexei stepping out of it. They made their way to the newest building on set and disappeared in it, and Viktor sighs in relief. Making his way back to the fountain, he gives the globe one more stir, once again losing himself to his thoughts, and once again jumping in fear when he hears a loud slam. Ducking behind the pillar again, Viktor peers out to find Alexei stubbing a cigarette outside the building, but with no sight of Yuurochka around. A terrible feeling settles in Viktor’s gut, and as Alexei gets into his vehicle and drives away, he rushes up to the building, breaks one of the windows, and jumps in, only to find the interior all ablaze.
Panic seizes his heart, and with Yuurochka’s name on his lips, he makes his way deeper into the fiery pit. The carnage is never ending, and he barely ducks away from a falling banister before spotting a pair of legs on the other side of the room. On closer inspection, he sees Yuurochka knocked out and splayed on the floor, surrounded by flames. However, just as Viktor gets within reach, the building explodes, and all he can feel is the tremendous force propelling him away from Yuurochka, through a window, out of the building. The breath gets knocked out of him as he tumbles further away from the studio and on to the highway adjacent, and by some miracle he manages to get on his feet just to see another explosion destroy the foundations of the building. The pain of his ordeal hits him then, and it’s all he can feel as he watches the building crumble in the distance. Bright lights then blind his vision, and a fresh wave of pain cascades his spine as he lands on the road again. Unable to focus both his eyes and his mind, Viktor last registers the looming face of Yakov Feltsman in his final moments.
*************
The grating, beeping sound rings in his ears, and he can feel his breath shortening with each exhale. The murmurs around him increase in volume, yet he cannot make any sense of it, muffled as the sound was. He can feel the pain ripping through his chest, and the fading of his memories, as his voice rips through his chest and through his parted lips, to give a final, or a first cry.
*************
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27 Years Later
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The air around him is warmer than it ought to be, but as Victor lands his quadruple flip with a resounding crack across the rink, he decides it is reasonably so. The cheers booming through the stadium lift his spirits, and he struggles to quell them as he launches into his somber triple axel. The theme of his free skate is spelled in the title of the song accompanying it – ‘Stay Close to Me’ – and he had made this song with a subdued, almost melancholic mindset. It wouldn’t do to let the cheers of the crowd carry him away from his presentation.
Unbidden images flash through Victor’s mind which help him lower his mood appropriately. Chocolate brown eyes, harsh voices, the quiver of hands, a trail of cigarette smoke, and blazing infernos tide him through his free skate, and help him obtain two world records in one fell swoop. Despite this, when Victor raises his fifth consecutive World’s gold medal for the media to capture, his smile feels plastered on and he doubts his eyes have the sparkle that they usually contain.
-x-
As Victor makes his way through customs, Yakov, his coach and legal guardian, glances at him and says, “Did you see those dreams again, Vitya?”
Victor is glad for his sunglasses, it really wouldn’t do if a fan saw him scowling in displeasure. The rumors that would escalate would be disastrous and he did not want Yakov to be caught in the crossfire. “Yeah. I just wish it would make sense. It’s been twenty three years, and the headaches just get worse.”
“Hmm.” They are interrupted by the loud cheers of Victor’s fans as he finally comes in sight, and the bright flashes of the Russian press’s cameras. Victor manages to sign some books, take a few photos and make some statements before both he and Yakov collapse in their designated ride back home. As if they hadn’t been interrupted by half of St. Petersburg’s population, Yaov continues, “We might need to visit your doctor again. It should have reduced by now.”
Victor sighs. “Well it hasn’t.” His stagnancy in his career didn’t help with the headaches either. Victor lived to surprise his fans, and he had yet to come up with a program for his next free skate, let alone surprise the audience. His short program was not well off either, the basic skeleton of it there but nothing fleshed out yet. At least he would be able to meet Makkachin soon, his one saving grace in this world. She stuck by him, gave him the basic comfort he needed and always soothed his pains away with just a lick.
-x-
“Japan?” Victor’s eyebrow raises, and he leans against the rink barrier, resting his elbows on it. “Why there?”
“Apparently there’s a collaboration with a sports company there, and they have Katsuki as their brand ambassador so they thought it would be interesting to see Russia’s and Japan’s top figure skaters collaborating as well.” The rink resounds with the scrape of blades,
“Is this because I did one with Chris?”
Yakov looks away.
“It’s not just Japan is it?”
“Well… you also have to go to China and Canada.”
Victor frowns. “Can’t they see I’m a figure skater, who needs to come up with programs for the next season, and not a model?”
“We need all the sponsors we can get, Victor. No matter how accredited you are, you’re also nearing the end of your figure skating career and people are more willing to fund younger figure skaters with a longer career ahead of them.”
Sighing, Victor lets go of the topic only because he knows Yakov is speaking from experience and only means well. “Alright. Maybe I’ll be able to finalise something mid trip. Atleast it’s the beginning of the off season.”
“Da.” Yakov grunts, and then says, “Let’s go through that layback spin again, you’ve not been bending enough.”
“Oh Yakov,” Viktor playfully pouts, “you’ll be the death of me!”
He realizes his mistake when Yakov’s scowl deepens but the meek “Sorry” he whispers doesn’t undo the damage. Victor can only imagine what it must feel like to be unable to save a man right in front of him. He feels sorry that Yakov doesn’t need to imagine such a thing.
Just as he’s about to skate away, he turns back to Yakov to ask, “Who’s the sponsor again?”
“Alexei Ivanovich.”
-x-
Victor hangs around the set, waiting for the cameraman to adjust his Nikon before they start. Idle, and alone (as Yakov had left to do some administrative work), Victor thinks back to the meeting he had just two days prior to landing in Japan. Alexei Ivanovich was a very laidback man, a relaxed demeanor hanging about him as he stepped forward to shake Victor’s hand. Even so, Victor could not shake the impression that Ivanovich was a predator in sheep’s clothing. They had a successful meeting, in which Victor found out that he only handles the monetary aspect of the job, having a primary interest in the art movies bring with Victor’s art on the ice being next in line. Victor found it odd that Ivanovich did not even know Chris’s face, considering the booming profits that advertisement had produced was the entire reason for this new venture, but he did not pry, as it was not his place to.
A commotion by the door drew Victor’s attention to it, and he glanced over, just in time to see someone drop into a bow right in front of him. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Victor. I hope you weren’t inconvenienced.” As the man in front of him raised his head, Victor felt himself trapped in place, for the chocolate brown eyes that haunted his being for decades crinkled with warmth. “I’m Katsuki Yuuri, Japan’s representative.”
As Victor grasped the hand offered to him, memories from another life came rushing in, and as he let out a strangled, “Pleased to meet you.”, he felt nothing but fear crowding his soul.
Yuuri blushes deep, eyes darting from Victor’s eyes to their joined hands as he lets out his own warbled, “Pleasure is all mine”.