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Is this right?
That was the question plaguing Victor’s mind during his entire life.
Is this right?
That was the question that he asked himself when he ran away from his home at sixteen, unable to withstand his mother’s abuse any longer. His father had left him at her mercy two years ago, and on his birthday, no less. He went to the police station where his father had worked, trying to find any lead to where he might have gone. He only found a postcard from new york city and his father’s badge on the desk he used to work at.
Is this right?
That was the question he asked when he joined the NYPD when he was twenty one.
While getting accustomed to life in an entirely new country, he still believed his father was out there, somewhere. He wanted to become more like him, so that he could fill the void in his own heart. He had cut off his long, silky hair, disconnecting himself from his past once and for all.
Is this right?
That was the question that he asked himself every day as he worked on the Yakuza case, Unable to link YK’s actions to any known criminal in the area, to any clues, trying to piece it together from whatever Georgi could get him and what he heard on the street. He was considering asking Yuuri about it, but He didn’t want to waste their dates on work. Only in Yuuri's presence was he ever calm, ever happy. He had never felt emotions like these before, finding Yuuri to be the person on the forefront of his mind at all times. Yuuri Couldn’t possibly know something about YK, besides, It’s not like YK was leaving any Hatsune Miku-related evidence around, so Yuuri probably won’t care anyway. For now, Victor changed from his uniform to his usual arcade outfit, complete with a Miku Pin that Yuuri had given him from his own collection. He left the office and headed to the arcade with a smile.
Is this right?
The question returned to him when he saw none other than Yuuri, standing on the roof of a building, watching as the one across the street burned and crashed down, It’s various floors crashing onto the earth. The rain wouldn’t put out the fire, as if by some sick twist of fate. Yuuri slowly turned around and smiled at him, his eyes full of tears. “Vitya, I’m so happy to see you.” He said, his voice rough, as if Yuuri was about to start crying. Victor couldn’t tell what happened after that, his next memory being one of holding Yuuri over the edge, threatening to let him fall to his death. Yuuri didn’t say or do a thing, simply letting Victor do as he pleased. It sickened him so much,that Yuuri had apparently made peace with dying, that he pulled Yuuri close to him, like he would after Yuuri would have an anxiety attack.
The rest of the memory was a mix of fighting Yuuri and kissing him, Victor barely being able to distinguish one from the other, the scene ending when Yuuri and him had tired each other out, falling asleep on the roof and in each other’s arms as the world burned around them.
Is this right?
Victor was part of the Yakuza now. He sat at Yuuri’s side, guided him and offered him what comfort he could. They lived in extreme luxury, their mansion built on the most beautiful coast in California, The sun and seas bringing him comfort when being the oyabun’s partner in crime had been too much for him. He had everything he could ever want, his values and beliefs coming to life with Yuuri’s power and connections...but this wasn’t right. this was wrong. Blood was spilled at every single wish Yuuri had granted him, not knowing any other way of changing the world around him. Victor felt as if his own hands were drenched in the same blood as Yuuri’s were, unfairly living in peace at others expense.
Is this right?
Victor had asked him on the night before they ran away, and Yuuri responded with a kiss and “I never felt like anything I did was right until this moment.”
They disappeared, Their mansion lighting on flames as they left.
Is this right?
Victor had asked as they traveled from country to country, changing so many identities and names that they forgot themselves along the way, and Yuuri had replied with an “I don’t know” before having the worst panic attack in his life.
Is this right?
Victor had asked himself as his captors tortured him for information, for anything that he had. He was malnourished, tired and hurt constantly, afraid that the markings of chains and knives on his body would become scars if he managed to survive this. Maybe he won’t. Maybe he’ll die here, and that’s how his story will end, when all of a sudden the door was knocked down, and Yuuri was there, holding the same gun he used to aim at people while being the oyabun.
Victor didn’t need to ask that question when he and Yuuri had found their place. They lived in a small, seaside town in japan in a little studio apartment, each working on their own art, Victor using oil and acrylic paints as Yuuri Positioned the items in his photo just as he imagined in his mind. Sometimes, they’d spend an evening at the local onsen, dipping in the water and eating the local food, Yuuri absolutely loving the Katsudon that was served there.
They had two poodles, Makkachin and Viichan, and would often take them to walks on the beach. They participated in Hasetsu’s local celebrations, Yuuri having his photos of the town be presented in a gallery on Hasetsu’s 100th founding day celebrations.
For the first time in his life, Victor had felt as if there was nothing more right than this.