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Victor's slim fingers travel over a floor of wiry paper, sky blue eyes scanning each and every single line that covered it. Lines... He had seen too many lines throughout his miserable but seemingly beautiful life. Lines in the delicate form of scratches on the ice, new days but the same lines, full lines shouting his name in popular magazines. Victor had grown to hate lines.
Those lines... He had always followed them, easily assuming they would lead him to his promised land like magical pathways from a fairytale. He had skated gracefully like a little fairy, hiding the yelling demons that were inside his head. Oh, if only all those people knew his actual story. It was nothing like a fairytale. It was a well written horror thriller, complete with monsters, high pitched screams and a frightened protagonist who couldn't help but try his best to stay out of the hands of his enemies. Little did that protagonist know that skating his way to the promised land would lead him to his end. His final destination.
”Oh, Yuuri.” He began silently.
"I've never had parents. They died when I was an infant, so I can't even remember what they looked like. As far as I know, I don't have grandparents as well..." Victor paused for a second. "At least, they've never searched for me." With his aquamarine eyes concentrating on the arrows of the off-white clock above the television, Victor bit his lip. The arrows hardly even moved, but if he looked real closely, he could spot a slight movement every two seconds. There was a time when he had been silently waiting for the time to pass, praying those arrows would move as slowly as they could, to punish him for whatever he had done wrong in his previous life to deserve a living hell like this.
"My neighbors brought me to an orphan home the day after my parents' death. I've never understood how they have died the same day, even though they were home and nothing had indicated that they were unhealthy, according to the orphan nurse."
Victor hadn't ever felt the urge to find out more about his heritage and family members, easily because he had been scared to find out more about his parents' death than he had intended to. "There was a clock in my room with animated characters on it. That's all I can remember of that orphan house. When I was four, I had to move to another home.
We went to a skating rink with all the other 4 year olds one day. And for the first time ever, I felt what having fun felt like.
The head nurse gifted me a pair of skates when I turned five years old. I was so happy that I cried while opening the box. That woman was amazing. In my childish world, she was like a mother to me. I didn't know any better. Before my sixth birthday she had died of cancer..."
Yuuri listened carefully and didn't dare to interrupt Victor's story. Not even after an awkward pause of over twenty seconds.
"And when I was 17... I guess that's when it all started to sink in. I won the Grand-Prix, for the very first time. I was young, successful, on my way to becoming rich. I was on top of the world. But it didn't mean anything to me." Victor's eyes firmly closed, and he could just feel the chilly air of the rink around him, loudly cheering crowds yelling out his name in a vain attempt to be recognized by him. The new world champion had seen the light. Sharp, golden blades that belonged to a world champion's skates were gliding smoothly over the ice, their subdued sound filling Victor with a feeling of both pain and euphoria at the same time. Recalling the memory like this felt strange.
Tendrils of long, silver hair fell around his face like an argent colored halo that surrounded a true Saint. A legend in his class. But Victor didn't feel blessed yet. He did not deserve these cheers yet, these signs of encouragement. He hadn't found it yet. His destination. "Because I wanted love, Yuuri. And at that point, I didn't even care about what kinds of love. I tried to show it through my routines. What I seeked. Innocent, affectionate love, like a family member. Or sexual love, like a partner. It didn't matter to me."
Blue rose petals followed his still fragile figure as he moved. Blue petals followed his delicate physique, but nothing followed his soul. "And then, people began to say they loved me. Fans and reporters and other competitors. But they didn't love me at all, Yuuri. They had never loved me. They loved my programs, my story, even though they didn't even understand my story."
Victor slowly opened his eyes again, the rink replaced by the sight of his apartment. "The flower crown with the blue roses was my very first attempt to show it. Roses are the symbol of love, and blue is the color of sadness. But no one noticed. No fan's theory was right."
Strands of silver shined like the blades that had just disheveled them.
"Ever since my first victory, people had expected me to keep winning. I had a huge weight on my shoulders back then. I had to satisfy my fans, my coach, my rink mates and Russia, and it almost seemed like I didn't matter anymore. As long as my performances were flawless, I would receive love from the world. And I was so scared to mess up that I just... I've felt empty, for many years. It's like my body has always been there, but my spirit hasn't. And at one point, I realized that there would only be one moment when people would love me. Because there's only one moment in a person's life when everyone truly loves you." Even though a half smile appeared on Victor's face, a single, shining tear rolled down his pale cheek. He didn't even seem to notice, eyes still staring at the arrows. "And that's at your funeral."
It seemed like the string that had been holding him together had been cut. Victor cried. Loud, heart wrenching sobs echoed around his long reunited body and soul, face buried in a pair of trembling hands. With teary eyes, Yuuri walked over to his fiancé, embracing the most beautiful thing he had ever had with love and care. Tears escaped from Yuuri's chocolate brown eyes, his long eyelashes sticking together. "It's okay to cry."
"Really, Vitya."