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Gold. Every time Viktor lifted his hand up, shielding his eyes from the morning sun, bits of gold shone through his fingers. The flakes illuminated over his bangs, and there was a shy glint of silver at his ring finger. A subtle reminder of a proposal that Viktor had done on a certain bridge, with a bandaged wound up his shoulder blade. But if Viktor omitted the darker details and focused on the moment that made his heart swell, then the silver ring represented a promise that Viktor held to himself. For a long time, he thought this day would never come, where a dream that used to keep him up at night couldn’t possibly come true. Yet here he was, buttoning the cuffs of his shirt.
A crisp tux, weaved over his dress shirt when Viktor stepped away from his closet. From the sheets on his bed, Makkachin lifted her head. Her soft eyes followed Viktor when he slowly twirled around in his bedroom, almost like a prince admiring his new robes. Makkachin shook her fluffy head when Viktor approached her with two offerings: a bowtie and a necktie.
One sniff was a win for the bowtie. A sneeze warranted that the necktie was the better choice for a... special day . Makkachin squinted at her choices before rolling onto her back. She exposed her belly and whined for a rub. Viktor climbed into bed and snuggled with Makkachin. He felt every wag of her tail when he scratched her belly, and Makkachin sneezed as she wiggled around in Viktor’s sheets. Her sneeze pushed a fleece blanket away, and Makkachin scooted forward and caught it with her teeth.
Viktor planted a kiss near Makkachin’s snout. “Thank you for the suggestion.” A slobbery kiss welcomed Viktor’s cheek when Makkachin reached for him, and she rolled around until a fleece blanket bundled her from head to toe. Viktor returned a few last-minute rubs before throwing his necktie over his shoulder. He pulled the fleece blanket away from Makkachin so that he could see her, one last time. Innocence splashed over her eyes, almost unaware of where Viktor was going. But Makkachin’s old bones told her something, and she struggled with every step to touch Viktor again. The fleece on her head slipped, like the sleeve of a dress.
Fleece, the word struck a chord with Viktor when he fingered through his hair. Fleece, how the texture was so soft yet unforgiving, hitching an itch along Viktor’s collar when he thought about it. Fleece, it reminded him of a wolf in sheep’s clothing when a finger masqueraded as a soft touch, but it felt like a cold knife down the side of his face.
The finger in question belonged to none other than Yuuri . Mr. Katsuki for now, but he traded that name a long time ago when he told Viktor that “Yuuri” was all that was needed. Yuuri. Yuu-ri. With the name broken up, the parts sounded so sweet. Together as whole, the name sounded like something that Viktor could only dream of holding. Like how his hands hovered around Yuuri’s waist when the latter came up to him so quickly, a dash of his heels when he bridged the distance between him and Viktor.
Viktor heard the footsteps when he walked around the perimeter of a “wildy and wooly” Church of Christ, where flowers broke through stone and there was a makeshift pond where the choir used to be. The clicks of his dress shoes were accompanied by another’s, by the soft thuds of a heel striking against the green earth. Viktor glanced up and coming up the hill, emerging from the wilderness, was Yuuri. Fresh as a bud, pristine as a stag with his hands rested near his pockets, and his eyes narrowed in on something about Viktor that initially caught his eye.
Perhaps the ruins that leaned over Viktor, like a monster with a stained glass jaw? Perhaps the slight part of Viktor’s lips, how they appeared so lonely and cold because that was how Viktor felt when he explored the forgotten corners of a forgotten church? Or perhaps, despite the gray and secrecy that alluded this special place to them, Yuuri found his first colors of the day when his eyes caught sight of the teal, lingering behind Viktor’s gaze.
Yuuri simply wanted to adjust Viktor’s tie. The crookedness bothered him from afar, or so he said when his fingers fumbled at Viktor’s collar. Viktor caught a sly smile when Yuuri thought that he wasn’t looking, and Yuuri’s neck was painted with the softest pink. He opted for a pink bowtie, a memory of a cherry blossom that he had once caught for Viktor. A bit of a snicker crept from Viktor’s lips, and Yuuri glanced up.
“I can’t believe you still remember that.” Viktor rubbed Yuuri’s fingers, tenderly with his thumb when the lowered from his collar. He held those fingers close to his chest, barely grazing the thundering clangs of his heart because Yuuri was so close.
“It’s hard to forget when I’ve given everything to you.” Yuuri’s voice fluttered near Viktor’s ears, like the delicate whispers that they were.
“Almost everything,” Viktor corrected. His eyes may’ve glanced downwards, and Yuuri slapped his arm, playfully. Laughter washed over them like a fresh, spring rain at the chapel. If only they could hold each other like this forever.
With Yuuri’s chin tucked on Viktor’s shoulder, how his fingers trailed down the length of Viktor’s back and explored every nook and cranny that he could only touch, but not admire. With Viktor cradling Yuuri against his heart, feeling how the rhythms between them evened out and it felt as if their hearts were beating for one. With Yuuri on his tippy toes, leaning up to pepper Viktor’s jawline with kisses. Every kiss felt warm, tender. Viktor could’ve melted in Yuuri’s arms if he wanted to. He couldn’t because Yuuri held him steady.
“Is it okay if we kiss?” The question came out sooner than Viktor expected. “A precursor for the altar and later tonight…” His voice trailed off when Yuuri began to loosen his bowtie with the edge of his thumb. Up close like this, Viktor wondered how he was able to keep his cool when Yuuri’s glasses slipped off, loosely hanging from his fingers before he wrapped his arms over Viktor’s neck.
Yuuri looked at Viktor. Viktor looked at him. Suddenly, they were shy again. Despite so many years and all the kisses tallied in their memories, it felt like they were kissing for the first time. Yuuri broke out of character and laughed, apologizing if his approach was too strong. Viktor asked if he should lead, and Yuuri whispered that it would be very reminiscent of their first kiss.
Viktor began his journey at Yuuri’s forehead. The softness of his lips blossomed a red carnation there. The stem and leaves looped around Yuuri’s bangs, seated like a crown as Viktor migrated south and kissed either side of his lover’s face. Lashes fluttering as a tease because a pout molded over Yuuri’s lips, a bit impatience. Viktor pulled away for a moment, grinning before he pressed his lips against the sweetest treasure that he could hold.
Yuuri coaxed him down, with only his fingers and the soft moans that lured Viktor in. The kiss deepened and rode over their breaths, with every thrust and pull. This touch, how Yuuri fingered through Viktor’s hair and felt his love’s warm breath just over his lips. Viktor pulled away for a moment to catch his breath. If this was the appetizer before the wedding, Viktor didn’t know if he could survive the dessert-portion when Yuuri wrapped his finger around the end of his necktie. Dessert usually came after the main course, but Yuuri enjoyed spoiling Viktor with a sweet taste whenever he had the chance. Just as quick as Viktor caught his breath, he was down again and quite literally on his knees.
Like sixteen flutes of champagne in his system, Viktor stumbled away from the kiss with every inch of his life. Beet red, hair in every which direction, and his necktie was loosened to every degree for when Yuuri left his marks on Viktor. Just the same, Viktor left his own marks on Yuuri, and the latter hid them easily under his collar and bowtie.
Those same features, the pink in public and the pink that only Viktor would see, shone prominently under the chapel lights as the stained glass illuminated over where they stood. Behind them was a white dove, spreading her wings over the private matrimony held between Yuuri and Viktor. Where only the wild flowers and the visiting birds could watch as they slipped golden bands just over their silver ones. Yuuri did it first, breath hitched at the back of his throat. Scared that he would mess up, but Viktor softly gave his encouragements and he relaxed his fingers over Yuuri’s hands. When the light came through and shone over the ring, Viktor realized that this wasn’t a dream anymore.
He lifted his ring for Yuuri, suddenly scared that this dream would wipe away before his eyes. His hand shook so much that Yuuri reached out and steadied it. A wink from Yuuri’s silver band helped ease Viktor’s nerves. He slipped the ring gently over Yuuri’s ring finger, and he swore he could’ve cried. This was real, as tangible as any memory that Viktor could hold.
Yuuri’s veil was his glasses, how they clung to the tip of his nose because he kept glancing up and down. A smile grew and it never stopped because this was real. That smile was what initially caught Viktor’s gaze, all those years ago when they first met. Viktor brushed his thumb along the side of that smile. Yuuri’s warmth was real, this touch was tangible. Viktor’s veil came in the form of his bangs. How Yuuri brushed them to the side so that he could admire the diamonds behind his husband’s eyes. Husband. That word felt so fleeting. It barely encompassed all the sleepless nights, the wandering thoughts, and all the weary heartbeats before this moment.
Yuuri…
The quietest noises usually offered the loudest stings. Just before a shadow crept over the stained-glass dove behind them, Viktor felt a change. How Yuuri’s bowtie was splattered with a different hue. Red. How the rings at their fingers lost their luster, a rusty tint weaving over the bands and onto their fingers. How the wild flowers turned into stray bullets, how the visiting birds turned into red laser beams that scoped the inside of the forgotten chapel. A gun poised, locked and loaded at Viktor’s hip. A myriad of switchblades flashed before Viktor’s eyes when the most subtle wind came by and waved the flap of Yuuri’s tux.
You are the light to my world. I used to be afraid of the dark. The shadows plagued my dreams until I heard a buzz from my phone. When I tapped the screen, there came light and it flooded every corner of my room and I wasn’t alone. You were there with me, asking if I was okay.
Red and green shards shattered over the altar. Faceless men and women charged in, their ropes grappling onto whatever they could cling to. Viktor whisked Yuuri behind him and took the brunt of a kick when a man rammed into him. His boots fracturing every nook along Viktor’s arm, but he didn’t move an inch. His arm held up as a brace, shielding the very love that no one could take away from Viktor. His eyes, illuminated like a wolf’s in the shred of Winter’s mercy. Just behind him, Yuuri eased his back against Viktor’s. Twin blades, twirling in his hands when they were surrounded from all sides.
Every moment I've spent with you, I felt like I was falling in love again. Each and every time, you never failed to surprise me. “You meet me where I am.” You told me that once, and I could say the same for you. We meet each other where we are, and it’s hard for me to imagine if I could say that to anyone else, besides you.
Anguish spilled onto the altar. Viktor’s face, smashed against the stone and ripped cloth as this faceless spectre whipped handcuffs over his wrists. Viktor kicked, trying to reach for his firearms when the spectre backed off for just a moment. As quick as his draw was, Viktor wasn’t quick enough when talons reached out and ripped his hands away from backup. A scream shattered the chapel. Viktor cursed, hissed, and fought until he was thrown through the stained-glass behind the altar. Shards ripped into him. Viktor heard Yuuri. He couldn’t see if Yuuri was okay, but he heard Yuuri loud and clear.
We're not perfect, but we found perfection in our flaws. We're not strong, but we found strength in each other. We're not memorable, but we've made a lot of memories together.
Yuuri fought as if his switchblades were a mere extension of his body. Slit throats and bloody splatters did little to faze him. His eyes, cruel and unforgiving. A splash of horror caught them for a moment when he realized what had happened to Viktor. Seeing his husband, slumped over broken glass and unable to get up...Something inside Yuuri ached before it snapped.
Yuuri, you've been my first and my last for many things but starting today, you are my everything.
Everything is going to be okay. A wave of pain rippled down Viktor’s body when Yuuri hoisted onto his shoulder. Lowering himself so that Viktor could get up, Yuuri mumbled too many explicatives for his husband to catch. Half of which, Viktor didn’t understand because he had never heard of them before. His eyes waved slowly over the scene in front of them. People, dead. Faceless spectres grew faces when Viktor stared at them long enough, and his knees shook with every step. He knew these people.
Over there, slumped with a knife plunged through her side, was Guildenstern. Her glasses cracked like Viktor’s body. In front of her were a few faces that Viktor used to drink tea with. Shoulders that he had once rubbed during long hours at the train station, standing guard for important visitors and to keep the St. Petersburg’s police busy. Fractured China from long-ago tea cups appeared at every hand when Viktor surveyed the scene, and Yuuri coaxed him to keep moving.
They couldn’t stay. Backup would be coming. Their mission was compromised, and a bluetooth earpiece nestled against Yuuri’s ear as he reported what had happened to a mysterious puppeteer that swung Yuuri around without a second thought. Starting today, Viktor was no longer a Heart. Yuuri made sure of that and Viktor’s eyes ghosted over the remains of Mama, where she took her last stand for her family.
You are the first that I see in the morning, my last at the pitch of night. You're the first snuggle I feel while wrestling under the sheets. Your hands are my first touch, your breath is my first breath, and your whispery laugh will always be the alarm to wake me up.
Viktor wouldn’t describe it as love when he met Yuuri’s eyes. The Ace of Japan wiped his jaw with the back of his hand before he carried Viktor in his arms, bridal-style. In some ways, this struck fear into Viktor.
Where did his dream go? What went wrong? Why did this happen? How could this happen?
I could be listing forever, but no book or pen could ever encompass my love for you. For when the day comes and we're no longer here, I want you to remember these words: I love you.
Viktor had many fears.
He feared of walking home one day and discovering the worst in his living room because of a rogue mafia member. Opening the door to see Yuuri, either dismembered into the tiniest bones or mailed as one organ at a time. Viktor feared that Yuuri would be walking home one night and a car would pull up and shoot him. Dispose of him just like that without a second thought. Viktor feared that Yuuri would pace around, late into the night, and never see his husband come home.
However, this what-if scenario constructed in his mind was the worst variation Viktor had ever experienced. If combined his worst fears and his deepest desires. That pained Viktor when he pulled away from Yuuri’s embrace, when they stood on that bridge in St. Petersburg. Yuuri looked so innocent, any bloodshed that he could do hadn’t surfaced because he felt safe by Viktor’s side. Viktor knew that there was only a matter of time before the facade easily slipped.
For the first time, Viktor was afraid of Yuuri. Much like how Yuuri was afraid of him, though he never showed it to Viktor’s face.