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At fifteen years old, Viktor gets the device that should help him identify his soulmate. The distance counter wraps around his wrist, and the moment he wears it, he knows he won't be meeting his soulmate anytime soon. The number of steps between them is astronomical.
At eighteen, Viktor has the well-developed habit to go in the direction that would reduce that number on his counter as much as possible, as close as he can get to his soulmate, until he's stopped by the sea. Another step wets his feet, and another soaks the hem of his dance outfit. He'll be scolded for letting the fabric get in saltwater.
At his favorite spot, he sits with Makkachin and stares into the ocean, trying to imagine who might be waiting for him beyond. He doesn't know if they'll be close friends or lovers. Maybe they'll have the type of distant relationship where they sometimes offer each other support when they need it, but don't interact much otherwise. Viktor likes to think that it will be someone who feels like home.
At twenty one, Viktor is ambitious. He's focused on his career as a dancer. For the first time, Makkachin has to stay with Yakov as Viktor goes on a small tour, traveling to nearby cities.
If he does well, he'll be able to travel to different countries, see new places, dance on new stages. He tries not to think about a specific country, or about searching for a specific person in a vast, foreign place. There's time until he needs to confront this reality.
At twenty four, Viktor is wanted everywhere. His schedule leaves no room for unnecessary trips home, outside of a few weeks at a time each season.
To avoid the responses he gets whenever someone sees the number of steps indicated on it, he stops wearing his counter. His frequent travels render it useless anyway.
He still remembers exactly how many steps it takes to get from his house to the beach.
At twenty seven, Viktor is drained. Makkachin clings to him whenever he's back from a tour, and though she's energetic when he takes her out, she's not as playful at home as she used to be.
Refusing to leave his city now that he had the chance to see the world and be disappointed, Viktor cancels his next tour and his next few performances. "Think about it," his employer suggests. "Don't throw your talent away." As if Viktor's talent is wasted if he doesn't use it to earn money for this man. But he does let himself be talked down from quitting altogether.
When he puts his training gear away, Viktor sees the familiar box that holds his distance counter. Struck by a wave of nostalgia, he puts it on and takes Makkachin to the beach. There, sitting in his favorite spot, Makkachin's head in his lap as he pets along her back, he lets memories wash over him. All of them are fantasies he'd dreamed up himself years ago, but they're alive. More vivid than his actual memories of the last year performing. He never could visit the one country he wanted to see, and this regret still stings.
Looking at the counter on his wrist, Viktor notices something odd. The number on it has always been shifting, with his soulmate and himself walking around where each of them lives, but now it seems smaller than he remembers.
It means nothing, of course. His soulmate could be visiting a city in his own homeland that happens to be closer to Viktor's own. Still, when he gets home, Viktor quits his job and finds a new one as an instructor's assistant.
He puts the box away empty. The counter stays on his wrist.
As the weeks go by, his soulmate's approach becomes undeniable. The number of steps separating them is steadily decreasing. He keeps watch over the counter, in case the direction changes. Viktor himself probably seemed to be approaching his soulmate many times while he was sailing to different places. Who knows where his soulmate plans to go.
When the number on his counter loses three digits, his friends and colleagues finally notice. They're thrilled, and after so long tracking his soulmate's approach and sharing it only with Makkachin, something about that feels invasive. He doesn't let them know this, of course. He is happy to celebrate this development with them. Their excitement is preferable to the looks of pity he got in the past, whenever someone examined his counter and tried to comfort him for having a soulmate who lives overseas.
"You're finally going to see them!" Mila cheers and Yuri makes sure to take a step away from her. He's properly grumpy, but doesn't look at Viktor like his very existence is an insult, so he's probably happy for him.
"If they really are coming here," Yakov grunts.
Viktor is bad at not developing hopes and expectations. He usually tries to temper this by reminding himself of reasonable realistic possibilities that conflict with what he would want. When the numbers on his counter are reduced to mere thousands, he can't bring himself to bother with anything like that.
On the day his soulmate should arrive, Viktor walks his familiar path towards the sea. The anticipation is overwhelming. He tries to look ahead, but his eyes keep straying to his counter.
When he reaches the docks, it has two digits.
So close.
He starts walking around, checking and double checking that he's going towards his soulmate and not away from them. With ten steps between them, he finds himself stopped by an armed guard in an ornate and foreign uniform. Frowning at Viktor along with his intimidating friends, the guard says something in an unfamiliar language. A question.
Before the startled Viktor can think of a way to apologize, another voice cuts through with what sounds like a few short instructions.
The guard stops attempting to loom over Viktor, who is taller, and moves away to reveal a man with brown eyes. He's a bit shorter than Viktor, but his posture makes him seem taller than he is. His garments are a mark of status as clear as the guards accompanying him should be. Viktor lowers his head slightly, unsure how to behave around this man and hoping not to offend. Judging by the distaste in the guards' expressions, he's doing a poor job.
The stranger examines Viktor, looking curious until he catches a glimpse of Viktor's arm and his eyes widen.
He looks up and says, "It's you."
Viktor automatically glances at the man's wrists, but his sleeves hide even his palms. "You speak my language."
"I always knew I was coming here," the stranger says and pulls up a sleeve just enough to reveal his own distance counter, "so I learned."
The numbers match. Viktor stares as the stranger approaches and the numbers change accordingly, step after step.
Viktor looks up at his face, at the unfamiliar features he's suddenly desperate to know better.
His soulmate smiles.
"Shall we go somewhere more private to talk?"
"I won't be here long, I'm afraid," Yuuri says. "I'm here for diplomatic reasons. Though I did make sure to have a relatively open schedule. For anything personal." Now, away from the guards, he looks almost shy.
"For me," Viktor says, letting his delight saturate his voice. He wasn't the only one looking forward to this. Yuuri actually made plans.
Smiling, Yuuri nods. "The time we have is… much more than I thought I'd have, even though I can't spend its entirety with you. You're here," he says, because it's a wonder. "You're here and we have two weeks."
"Two weeks," Viktor repeats, already feeling like they're being torn from each other.
"Two weeks before I have to go back. As prince, I have duties."
Trying not to show his disappointment, Viktor reminds himself that it's amazing Yuuri is here at all. They found each other so quickly. Yuuri probably thought he'd have to look. Whenever Viktor imagined visiting Yuuri's country, he knew it'd be a miracle if he returned home with as much as his soulmate's name. They are very lucky to be sitting here.
"It's more than enough to introduce my dog to you later," Viktor says. "She'll be happy to meet you."
In an instant, Yuuri's eyes light up in an expression that makes him look much younger than the reserved prince who introduced himself to Viktor. "You have a dog and you didn't bring her here to meet me!"
Viktor laughs. "I… apologize?"
Looking pleased for some reason, his smile softening, Yuuri says, "I'm being a hypocrite. I left my dog with my family, at home."
Viktor gasps dramatically. "No! You mean we can't see our dogs getting to know each other!?"
Glancing from Viktor's face to the politely folded hands in his lap, Yuuri says, "Not unless you want to visit, too."
Dropping the theatrics, Viktor reaches to place his hand on Yuuri's forearm. "I'd love to."