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Viktor Nikiforov considered himself the luckiest man in the world. Not only was he married to the most beautiful man he’d ever seen, he also had the cutest dog, the coziest home and the most fabulous mother-in-law in existence. His life was complete.
He often told Yuuri this, that he was so happy he’d met him, so thankful that they could be together forever, that Yuuri was the best thing that ever happened to him. Every time he said that, Yuuri would look at him and smile and kiss his cheek lightly.
They talked about growing old together sometimes, and tried to picture what it would be like, wrinkly, grey, or, in Viktor’s case probably bald. They laughed and promised each other they would still be in love, still see the other as the most beautiful human being alive, still adore and cherish the other.
Then there came the day when this was all taken from him. The future, the wrinkles, the forever love.
It began when Yuuri was late home for dinner. Viktor had finally, after taking many cooking lessons, learned how to cook without burning the kitchen down. Dinner was ready, the table was set, but Yuuri still wasn’t home. Viktor was a little annoyed, but not worried yet. Sometimes his husband got very wrapped up in a choreography he was planning, and forgot what time it was.
When two hours had passed and there was still no sign of Yuuri, Viktor began to worry a little. He had long since eaten his dinner and put away Yuuri’s plate for him to heat when he got home, but surely if he was delayed, he would have called by now? When Viktor’s phone rang, he assumed it was Yuuri, but the number was an unknown one.
”Is this Viktor Nikiforov?”
”Yes?”
”Are you the husband of one Yuuri Katsuki?”
”Yes. Has something happened?”
”I am calling from the University hospital. Your husband has been in an accident and is currently in the intensive care unit. You need to come here as soon as possible. Is there someone who can come with you?”
”No, well, I could call my colleague who lives close by. Where do we need to go?”
”Just tell the guards at the door your name and that you’re expected at the intensive care unit. We’ll talk more when you get here. Goodbye Mr Nikiforov.”
Viktor just stood there, clutching his phone and staring at the door. He dialed Yura’s number with shaking hands, and for once, the younger man answered promptly.
”What’s up old man?”
”Yura... it’s... it’s Yuuri... he’s hurt... I need to get to the hospital now. I can’t... I don’t think I can drive. Can you please come and get me?”
”I’ll be right over.” Yura’s clipped answer may have sounded curt, but Viktor could hear the worry in his voice.
Yura drove like he skated, but for once Viktor wasn’t clinging to his seat white with fear. He was too wrapped up in anxiety to notice the red lights the younger Russian ran on their way to the hospital. Once there Yura parked as close to the entrance as he could get, and they both hurried inside. They were stopped almost immediately, and Viktor, remembering the instructions, mentioned his name and the ICU. To his surprise, they were let through immediately, and one of the guards even followed them to the elevator, and told them how to proceed once they got up to the right floor.
They were met in the doorway by a nurse, who took them to a room with comfortable sofas and chairs scattered around low tables, rather like an airport lounge. The nurse asked them to sit down and went to get the doctor.
The doctor turned out to be a dark-haired, dark-eyed woman in her forties, with a few strands of grey in her short hair. She introduced herself as Dr Dhillon and sat down in a chair opposite Viktor and Yura and regarded them both steadily.
”Mr Nikiforov?” Viktor nodded. ”And you are?” She turned to Yura.
”I’m a friend.” He said it almost defiantly, as if challenging her to object.
She nodded.
”Well then. Mr Nikiforov, as you probably already know, your spouse was in a traffic accident. He was badly injured, and is now on life support.”
”When can I see him?” Viktor’s voice shook from holding back tears.
”He is not conscious, Mr Nikiforov. He sustained head and neck injuries, and right now the only thing keeping him alive is the respirator.” The doctor sighed. ”We called you here because you were listed as next of kin. Unfortunately, there’s really nothing we can do for him, the injuries are too grave. You can go see him now if you wish, but I am afraid there is no hope for recovery.”
Viktor just sat staring at her. How could she be saying a thing like that? Didn’t she know that Yuuri was his whole life?
”Come on Vitya... let’s go see him.” Yura tugged on his hand, his voice surprisingly soft.
Viktor stumbled to his feet, wondering why everything was so blurry. Oh, right, tears. He let Yura lead him in the doctor’s wake, following like an obedient child. They entered a ward and were shown to a part of the room that was partitioned off by screens.
There on the bed lay his love. Pale, bruised, eyes closed, with tubes everywhere, surrounded by screens and machines that to Viktor’s surprise weren’t beeping frantically like in the movies. It all seemed... rather peaceful. Weren’t there supposed to be dozens of nurses and doctors all moving about, checking readings, giving shots of – stuff – to revive Yuuri?
That’s when it dawned on him. There wasn’t a whole bevy of doctors and nurses working hard around his husband, because there was nothing left to be done. He wasn’t going to wake up. They were just keeping him alive until Viktor had had a chance to say goodbye.
”Mr Nikiforov?” The doctor’s tone was gentle, and her eyes, when he met their gaze, were suspiciously wet. ”You can touch him. You can talk to him. He’s not conscious, but it’s generally considered that the last sense to shut off is hearing, so he may be able to hear you still.”
Viktor sank down on the chair Yura pulled out for him. He grabbed Yuuri’s hand, very gently, like he could break it if he took it too forcefully.
”Yuuri, my love... I love you so, so much. You know that, I’ve told you countless times.” He swallowed, trying to hold back the tears. ”My darling, you’re badly hurt, and they say you’re not going to recover. I want you to know that you can go now. You don’t have to keep fighting, and hurting. Just let go zolotse. I am releasing you. I love you, and I hope to see you again one day. Maybe not for some years, but I will be there one day, and I hope you’ll be waiting for me. Farewell my angel.”
He kissed Yuuri’s cold lips and his bruised forehead and cheek, and then he broke down and wept like a child. He was led out of the ward, Yura wrapping an arm around his shoulders, supporting him all the way back to the lounge where they’d first seen the doctor.
They sat there quietly for a few minutes while Viktor cried. He thought Yura might have cried as well, but he was too emotionally exhausted to look up. The doctor came back with another person in a white coat in tow.
”Mr Nikiforov. I am so sorry we couldn’t do more for your husband. And I am very sorry to be bringing this up at this point, but... what is your position on organ donation?”
Viktor raised his head and stared at the two doctors.
”We... we’ve both registered as donors...”, he mumbled. ”It was something we both felt rather strongly about. Once you’re dead, or braindead, what good will those organs do you? But to someone else, they might mean a chance of a new life.”
The doctor nodded quietly.
”Would you consent to donation then? I don’t need to tell you there are many more people waiting for a transplant than there are donors. Your husband could save many lives, as he’s young and healthy and has no prior medical history.”
Viktor swallowed hard, but nodded.
*******
A few hours later it was all over. The machines had been turned off and Viktor, still sitting in the hospital lounge, staring numbly at a bland painting on the wall, realized that he was now a widower. He had cried so much he had run out of tears, and all he could do right now was pick apart the seams on one of the sofa cushions. He did so, while Yura cast him worried glances.
”Vitya, I texted Mari and asked her to call me. If you’d rather not do it, I can talk to her and to Mama and Papa Katsuki.”
”No, I need to talk to Mama Hiroko... she needs to hear it from me. I don’t know how I can tell her Yuuri is gone though.” Viktor’s empty, red-rimmed eyes were really disturbing Yura.
”Let’s call Mari and we can both talk to them”, the younger man suggested.
*******
Yura took Viktor home, picked up Makkachin, some dog food and clothes for Viktor, and then told the older man he was not letting him stay home alone with just the dog for company. Viktor didn’t object, in fact, he didn’t say much at all, just nodded listlessly and followed Yura up the stairs to his apartment.
The younger man cooked dinner and half forced, half wheedled Viktor until he ate a few spoonfuls of the rich soup. Then he set up his laptop and called Mari Katsuki on Skype. He explained quickly that there were bad news and could she get her parents as well, because this concerned them too.
Viktor sat in front of the screen, Yura a supporting presence just behind his shoulder, and told his in-laws what had happened in short, dry sentences. He didn’t dare look at the screen to see what reactions they had to the news, he just rattled off the facts quickly and then buried his face in his hands. Yura took over at that point and answered the questions that Yuuri’s family asked. They were all white-faced with shock and Yura had a hard time holding his own tears back.
At last, Hiroko said:
”Viktor-chan, please look at me.”
He looked up at the screen and his red-rimmed eyes locked with his mother-in-law’s.
”I love you my boy. I am so glad you were there and could make the decision that I know Yuuri would have wanted. It was very unselfish of you, and very kind. Know that you will always be my boy, just as much as Yuuri was. I will call you again tomorrow, please take care of yourself. Remember the good times and be happy that you knew him, even if it was too short.”
At that, both Viktor and Yura broke down and cried. Once the call ended, Yura wiped his eyes and told Viktor he could take the guest room. He made the bed for Viktor, who seemed to have been almost paralysed after the Skype call. He helped him into a sleep shirt, badgered him until he brushed his teeth (”I’m not going to brush your goddamn teeth, do it yourself geezer!”) and finally tucked him in, kissed his brow and told him he’d see him in the morning.
*******
The funeral was lovely, a sad occasion that had people flying in from all over the world. Viktor had wanted to keep it low-key, but there were so many people in skating who wanted to pay their respects, and it felt wrong somehow to deny them that chance. He decided to have a non-religious ceremony, and of course the press was banned from the premises.
The memorial service turned into a celebration of Yuuri Katsuki’s life and, in retrospect, much brighter and cheerier than Viktor would have thought. Hiroko and Toshiya spoke of their son and his determination, even as a child, to become a world-class skater. Minako talked lovingly about Yuuri’s low tolerance for alcohol. Phichit cried as he told stories of an oblivious boy who never really realised how many lives he touched by just being who he was. Viktor listened to them all and cried. He missed his Yuuri so much, and it felt like he was never going to be happy again, ever. Almost a month after the funeral he went to see a therapist at Yura’s insistence.
”The world is just black. Sure, there are some lighter patches, but they’re just grey. There’s no colour anymore now that he’s gone.”
”Can you sleep?”
”Sometimes. If I get drunk, or if I wear myself out training until I can’t stay conscious anymore.”
”Viktor, this isn’t healthy. We all grieve in different ways, and so we cope in different ways, but I have to tell you this isn’t a good way of coping. Alcohol solves no problems, it only creates them, and training obsessively will break your body, and then where will you be?”
Viktor heard the words, and understood what his therapist was saying, but it didn’t help him with the loneliness and the empty apartment. Not even Makkachin, darling though she was, could break him out of his misery. She missed Yuuri too, and would often look towards the door as if expecting him to walk through it soon. Viktor dreamed sometimes that Yuuri came home, and that Makkachin went wild with joy. Then he woke up, and there was no Yuuri there and he remembered why. He wondered if he ought to move someplace else. Their apartment was full of memories, and it hurt so much sometimes that he could hardly breathe with the pain of it. But then, if he moved away, it would be like he was not only getting rid of the apartment, but of their life together as well.
Months passed, and Viktor realised the all-black days were getting fewer, even if the colours hadn’t really returned to his life yet. He still missed Yuuri terribly, but the pain, when it came, wasn’t as raw as it was in the beginning. It was a relief to not be hurting all the time, but he felt that made the bad days stand out even more. Yura was his solid rock during this time. Viktor knew it was partly because Yura loved Yuuri too, not in the same way he did, not romantically, but he missed him too and understood Viktor in a way noone else seemed to, except for Mama Hiroko. She’d call him at least once a week, ask him how he was, listen patiently as he ranted about the unfairness of it all in the first months after Yuuri’s death. Later, she’d cry quietly with him, speaking of things Yuuri had done, telling Viktor stories of his husband’s childhood and listening to his memories as well.
*******
Viktor was out shopping for a new winter coat with Yura and Mila, and was in the process of trying on a navy blue woollen greatcoat when he suddenly felt the prickling sense at the back of his neck that usually indicated someone was watching him. He’d developed almost a sixth sense for this over the years, and it had been a great help in avoiding paparazzi from time to time. He gave Yura a meaningful look and tilted his head in the direction he thought the watcher was.
Yura turned his head and hissed quietly, storming off before Viktor had a chance to stop him.
”What’s your problem?”, Yura demanded, glaring at the tall, bony woman who was just standing there in the middle of the aisle, eyes wide with wonder and a bit of fear. She shook her head, raising her hands placatingly.
”It’s not... I’m sorry, I just thought there was something...” she paled so much Viktor feared she was going to faint. He hurried over and laid a hand on her shoulder, and as he touched her, he felt a jolt of something.
”Are you ok? Do you need to sit down?” He couldn’t explain how he knew the woman wasn’t a journalist or a fan who’d recognised him, nor was she a stalker. He suspected she didn’t even know who he was, but there was something there, and he could feel it too. That familiar sense of... Viktor frowned, trying to identify what that feeling was.
Mila had joined them now and was holding Yura back. The younger skater was still staring suspiciously at the woman, but he let Mila draw him to the side and whisper something in his ear.
Viktor looked the woman in the face for the first time since he’d noticed her, and up close she seemed not very remarkable. She was tall, almost as tall as he was, she had short brown hair, grey eyes and a nose that was slightly too big for her face. Her mouth was her best feature, wide and generous. She wore no make-up that he could see. He was sure he had never met her before, and yet there was something about her that felt familiar. He frowned.
”Have we met somewhere?”
The woman shook her head.
”I don’t think so. I think I would remember you.” She looked uncomfortable, and Viktor realised she found him attractive, a common enough experience for him, but for some reason it made him want to flirt with her. He hadn’t felt like that for a long time, not since Yuuri... and although he was bisexual, he leaned more towards men than women anyway. And she really wasn’t his type, even if he had favoured women. Too tall, too thin, too plain really. And yet...
He was still standing rather close to her, and it seemed to bother her. She backed away a couple of steps and fidgeted, but didn’t try to leave. He made another attempt:
”Are you sure you’re ok? For a while there it looked like you were going to faint.”
”I’m fine. I just... I had surgery recently and I’ve only just started to come back to a more normal life.” Her voice was really very nice, Viktor thought, melodic and rather deep for a woman.
”You still look a little pale, maybe you ought to sit down”, he suggested. He put his hand on her shoulder, and there was that little jolt of something again, and steered her gently towards a sitting area near the checkout. He made her sit down, and asked her if she wanted some water. She shook her head mutely.
”So if you don’t mind my prying, did you have major surgery? It sounded that way, when you said you were starting to come back to normal life.”
”I don’t think it can get any more major... I had a heart transplant.”