Chapter Text
Viktor had, throughout his life, gotten his fair amount of emotional moments, positive, as well as negative. His first gold medal, the day he adopted Makkachin, when he almost lost him, Yuuri’s proposal, his mom’s divorce. But when he entered the room, he could only believe all of that was worthless, that it was nothing, insignificant in front of what the twins felt.
Even when their backs were turned towards him, the skater could easily depict just how much they were lost, drowning in their own emotions, suffocating. Slowly dying.
And it was now his job to help them both swim back to the surface, make sure they were safe well, or, at the very least, as well as one could be in such conditions.
And it scared him to no end.
No one, except Yakov, but that didn’t count, had clearly told him so, but Viktor knew. He was the farthest thing one could be from a responsible adult. He was impulsive, dramatic and immature. He drastically lacked tact, barely knew how to cook and was, despite all his best efforts, emotionally unstable at times. In short, he had trouble keeping himself sane and healthy. How exactly was he supposed to, suddenly, take care of two very, very sad kids, who each had two times the amount of psychological and emotional problems he had? It, if he was being honest with himself, seemed impossible for him to do.
But he also knew, he didn’t have a choice.
Because who else was going to do it?
Nikolai was now gone. His wife had passed away years before the twins had even gotten the chance to see the light of the sun. No aunts or uncles, or even cousins, had ever been mentioned. The paternal side of the family was a complete mystery, and was better kept that way. And as far as he knew, their grandpa had been the kids’ only godparent.
To put it simply, there was no other adult available to take care of Yuri and Alexei. Apart from their mother, that spawn of the devil, curse her and bless her enemies, but there was no way, no matter the situation, that Viktor was ever allowing her near the twins ever again. She could as well die in the most atroce manners, and the silver haired man would smile, laugh in glee reading the article.
To say it briefly, Viktor had to do it, no matter what.
He had to. He kept telling himself so. It was his duty, and what he wanted.
But he wasn’t nearly responsible, or even stable enough, to do so. No intelligent enough person would let him take care of kids more than a few hours on a normal occasion, right was, indeed, out of the question.
But he had to. He knew he did.
How was he going to make it work? How was he going to give Yuri and Alexei, who already needed, deserved so much on a regular day, the support and balance required for their comfort and general well-being in these hard times?
A hand took place on his shoulder, squeezing it in a comforting manner, and his world became wide again, opening up for him to be aware of more than just himself, Yuri, Alexei. Yuuri, his beautiful, flawless, perfect fiancee who he loved more than he loved the moon and sun and stars and seasons. He was next to him. The air he was breathing was fresher and the colors were coming back in his eyes.
That was right, he suddenly, finally remembered. He wasn’t going to be alone. Yuuri would be there all along. Yakov would certainly be more than willing to help out, he had always treated every skater under his care, plus Alexei, like his own children, complimenting and scowling in a weirdly fatherly way. Mila and Georgi would be present, too, if the couple ever needed a hand. He would have help, if ever need be, to support Yuri and Alexei, while they grieved, and afterwards as well, for the rest of their lives.
They were gonna be okay. It was all fine. It was going to be fine. Even if it didn’t look the part at the moment.
Viktor wouldn’t have been able to tell if one minute or a whole eternity had passed without anybody saying anything, moving, even. Time in the room felt surreal, almost non-existent. And the impression the space left on the human being was just as strange and stressful. It was as if they weren’t allowed to breathe, to live. A terrifying perspective.
Putting an end to all of it, both twins stood up gently, quietly, as if to not wake up the man laying on the bed before them, before turning slowly, walking out the door without a sound, without turning back, without stopping.
Completely detached, if not for the tears falling down their cheeks, never stopping.
No one had stopped them as they had made their way out of the hospital, and the car ride had gone completely eventlessly. And when Viktor said eventlessly, he meant eventlessly. Not a single word had been even whispered, not a single sound had broken the silence. A first, in the years the man had known the twins.
The driver had decided to go back to his apartment, instead of Nikolai’s house. First of all, he didn’t believe that rushing the kids back into a place so full of memory was the best of ideas, directly after they had lost their grandpa, the most precious and important person to them, right next to each other. Such a big trigger would maybe result in just as major reactions, which Viktor was not ready to deal with. He didn’t feel equipped, he was unprepared, he had no idea what to expect, and so he wouldn’t test his chance.
And, secondly, he didn’t want to leave the twins alone. If they had gone back to Nikolai’s house, he was pretty sure the kids wouldn’t have wanted to get back to the car afterwards, being already on the border of exhaustion when they had left the hospital, amongst other reasons. The problem was, there was no place for Yuuri, and him, to stay the night. If he had been alone, he would have simply slept on the couch, like he had done before, many, many times. But, Yuuri surely wouldn't have fitted beside him on the small couch, there were no other sofas in the house, and sleeping in the just deceased man’s bed felt, well, very wrong.
So, he had assumed the best option was for all of them to spend the night at his own apartment. They had one of these sofas that could turn into a bed in the living room, where he and his fiancee could sleep, while they gave their own king sized bed to the twins.
The car was now finally pulled up, as they had arrived at the residence. It was a medium sized apartment, taking up half of the fifth floor of the building it was in. The place was nothing luxurious, the furniture was modest and simple, and it was, mostly, a mess. One would have thought the presence of Yuuri in the place would have helped keeping it clean and neat, but they would have been mistaken greatly. In truth, even Viktor had been thinking the same way, at first. The young man simply seemed like the type to almost enjoy cleaning, that, and a bit of stereotypes thrown into the judgement. But if he made sure to vacuum and clean up the bathroom every week, Yuuri would never put away anything. He would throw the unfolded pants all in a big mountain, on one of the shelves in the wardrobe in his and Viktor’s room. Pillows that clearly belonged in said bedroom had been forgotten on the couch for months now, neither man ever picking them up. They had bought new curtains a few weeks back, and the old ones were still present, taking up space, thrown onto one of the unused kitchen chairs.
In short, the place was not ready for visit of any kind, even with the new addition of its inhabitants. It was not anything near fancy, nor was it spacious, and it needed a good organising day to get scheduled and done.
But it was the best they had at the moment.
Opening up the door of his car, Viktor turned around to face the twins, who were sitting at the back of the pink Cadillac, the roof of which was closed, to announce, in the softest voice he could manage.
-We’re here.
The reaction wasn’t immediate, as was anticipated, but, after a moment, both boys looked up from the space they had been staring at, and got out, walking directly to the front door of the building before them.
Yuri and Alexei had been over at Viktor’s apartment a few times before, but it hadn’t been a recurring thing. Only on a handful of occasions had they entered the place, like when Viktor had wanted to grab something on his way back to the rink, or when the older skater had just desired to go back home after a long day, and the two other ones had simply followed, for various reasons. Most times, hanging out outside the Sports Champions Club would be either an activity done in the different streets, cafes and parks of Saint-Petersburg, or, just as frequently, at Nikolai’s house. The place was just more spacious, kept tidier, and, above everything else, it was warm and familiar.
Viktor had lived in the studio for a long time, way before Yuuri’s arrival in Russia, many years, in fact. But it had always felt empty. No real personality had ever shone through the apartment, and no emotions were brought up when he came back home. It was just a small space, with white walls and boring furniture. And Nikolai’s house was all the opposite of that. Nikolai’s house was welcoming, hearty, and truly felt like home, to both the man’s grandsons and Viktor. A place to relax, to let their guard down, to eat and play and mess around freely. It was great, and something he was grateful for.
Or, it had been.
Of course, Yuuri’s arrival in his life had changed a lot of things for Viktor, which, among them, was the feeling he got whenever he walked into the apartment. The indifference and coldness on his back had shifted for a sweet taste on his tongue, the warmth of a blanket around his shoulders, love, to say the least. However, none of that was being provided by the actual place. Only the man who now lived here, alongside the older skater, could take credit for all these marvelous, comforting sensations he felt everytime he landed his eyes on him.
The twins, in front of the two, very worried, adults, were now climbing up the flights of stairs, all the way to the fifth floor. Their steps were slow, mechanical, thoughtless looking, just like every movement they had been making, since they had left their grandpa’s side. Once they finally arrived at the door, they both waited on the side, eyes looking down, obviously drifting into their own thoughts, waiting for Viktor to open, which he did without a word. Soon enough, everyone was inside, the door closed again.
Two weeks after Yuuri had moved, unofficially, in with him, Viktor had catched him mumbling something under his breath, everytime he walked through the front door. Very confused, the silver haired man had asked his fiancee what was it, that he was doing? What was he saying? At first very reluctant, Yuuri had finally answered that he was saying a greeting, that was the norm in Japan, to say when one would come back home. His reasoning for not saying it outloud had been that, first, he hadn’t wanted to push his culture and beliefs onto Viktor, when he was the outsider here. That had been brushed off very quickly, the older man assuring him that he loved learning about the Japanese way of living, especially if Yuuri was the one teaching him, and that he would be more than happy to start doing the same, if he had the permission. The second thing stopping the Japanese man from demonstrating the habit out loud, was that he hadn’t been sure if he was allowed to think of the apartment as home. It had been true that, at that time, nothing had been said clearly. Yuuri had only been supposed to stay in Russia for a few days, which had slowly elongated into weeks. That had been when things had been made clear for both men. After a small conversation, they had decided together that, officially, the Japanese man would move in with Viktor, in Russia. They had gone to Japan, not only to visit Yuuri’s family, who he hadn’t gotten the chance to see after the Final, but also, to pick up the man’s various belongings.
After that, Yuuri had always, without fail, called out the cute greeting, everytime he walked into the apartment, past the front door.
But now, he wasn’t.
Surely not to break the current silence, or to not startle the twins. Viktor was disappointed he wasn’t able to hear the “tadaima” from his lover’s lips, but he understood.
Quietly, the shoes came off, getting replaced with slippers, the twins getting two off the spare pairs, and they made their way into the living room.
Immediately crashing down onto the couch.
It was a sad sight. The normally so energetic, so playful kids, now so tiny, so tired, so fragile.
Turning from the grey, heart-breaking picture, Viktor looked over to his other half, before speaking up, just loud enough for him to understand what he was saying.
-Let’s make dinner.
Finally stumbling into the hard, uncomfortable mattress, Viktor had the chance to take a moment and think about everything that had happened, and was going to occur.
The rest of the evening had gone on pretty much the same way it had started as. Very little words from the two adults, none from the twins. After eating the chicken soup both men had heated up, and picking at the bread on the side, the kids had simply left the table, simultaneously, to head to the master bedroom, where they had been told they would spend the night beforehand. The door had been closed, and Viktor hadn’t seen the two boys since.
The only clue they were still alive inside the private, closed space, had been when Yuri had called for Viktor, in a tone so far from his usual voice, it had taken a moment for the man to realise it was the blond talking, asking for him to go pick up Potya. Which had been done immediately, the skater cursing himself for not thinking about the cat sooner on. The door had been, only briefly, unlocked, giving Potya the chance to run into the room, and Viktor, the opportunity to hand out water and food bowls for the animal, as well as her litter. Not even a reflection of the two boys had been perceived during those short moments. The second after, the entrance was closed, once more, and had stayed that way.
They clearly needed time to process, together, what all they had witnessed meant. Neither of them had ever had to go through grieving for a lost one, until then. Their only known grandma had passed away long before their birth. No important friends lost along the way, no violent breakup from truly loved partners, not even a deceased pet. Their first time experiencing grief was, to say the least, a rather harsh one.
Viktor needed to take care of them, now.
Luckily, it was the beginning of the off season for both kids. They had time to pick themselves up, part after part, before they had to get back to serious training, which meant the unfortunate event would affect their performance in a very minor way, if it ever did.
For now, he had to focus more on keeping the kids alive and comfortable.
For instance, buying a house.
There was no way they could just all stay in the couple’s little, cheap, one bedroom apartment. Viktor could deal with sleeping in the living room for now, and Yuuri had, of course, assured him that it was fine, but it sure as hell wasn’t going to be a permanent solution. They were in need of a bigger place.
Simply buying the twins’, for now, abandoned, childhood home, was an option. The place wasn’t large, per say, but it was still a nice, three bedroom, two stories house. It was already all furnished, and all of the twins' stuff wouldn’t need any moving. And they had a lot. He would have to talk to said kids later, about it.
If not, there was always the choice of picking an entire other living place. Saint-Petersburg, at least, in their area, was full of small and big houses, as well as larger apartments and condos. In which case, they would have to think about moving out all of their things, and possibly getting new furniture, as well as setting things up for the electricity, running water and internet connection.
At least, Viktor wasn’t short on money. Being five times gold medalist of the World Championships, as well as very attractive, paid more than one would probably think.
He would also have to think about their education, too. Both Yuri and Alexei had now finished senior school, and were moving up to secondary school, for another two years. In the past, they had voiced their desire to continue their studies, while still continuing skating, as their priority. Viktor wasn’t sure to understand why they would want to pursue higher diplomas and education, if they still planned to make their passion, their job, but he respected it. It hadn’t been what he had decided on, years ago. He had stopped the moment school hadn’t been obligatory by the law anymore. Yuuri, the younger man had once told him, had planned on getting a higher education, but had dropped out after some time, to fully concentrate on figure skating.
Thinking about that, he would have to call the school program, to get the twins a couple days off. He would do that once he woke up.
He would also have to look into, maybe, if the situation called for one, getting them a therapist.
The kids’ had always been what one would have called, as much as Viktor hated the phrasing, unstable. They weren’t, or, at least, had never shown any sign of being suicidal, but they sure as hell weren’t perfectly healthy. For a quick, boiled down resume, Yuri, even after several years of slow improvement, still displayed some pretty serious anger management issues, as well as some self esteem shortenage, by moments. Alexei, on his part, didn’t exactly run away anymore, but still took very long, extended walks outside, coming back red faced, puffy eyed, exhausted minded. And, sadly, the marks of the past abuse, graceful legacy of that monster, who dared call herself a mother, still, occasionally, shone through, whether at the kids’ lowest moments, or just, slipping, the children not even realising how heartbreaking and unhealthy such mindsets were. To put it simply, Nikolai’s death was, in a way, just another issue on Yuri and Alexei's mental health. Howether, Viktor was unsure if it was, in fact, just another one, or something much, much worse, that would set off the need to go to a professional.
The longer he thought, the longer the man realised, that wow, taking care of children was hard. And, he was sure, he would still remember more things he had to deal with, later that night, the day after, a month passed, even.
A shift of the mattress, accompanied with distasteful, cringe worthy noises, snapped Viktor out of his thoughts. Yuuri was back from the bathroom, finally ready for bed.
A sigh escaped the younger man’s lips as he laid down, the spare blanket up to his nose, a content look on his face. Which, regretfully, quickly changed for a worried one, once he turned to look at his fiancee, to his left.
-Vichan, please take some rest, Yuuri whispered softly, holding one hand out to gently brush a strand of hair out of his lover’s face. Viktor, in front of the request, got very confused. It wasn’t even past ten thirty in the night, he had gotten in bed before him, and, as far as he knew, nothing was scheduled for the day after. His questioning must have shone on his face, because Yuuri continued, explaining why he had asked the man to do such things.
-You’re as pale as when Makkachin choked on plastic wrappers, and you could just as well not have slept for the last 72 hours. Nothing will get done if you stay like that, not your own grieving, or helping the twins with theirs. So, please, just try to sleep.
Yuuri, Viktor knew, must suffer from just as many mental health issues as he did. Binge eating disorder, severe anxiety, depressive episodes, you name it. The difference between them was that, out of the two, the younger one knew best how to take care of himself. He was more efficient with spotting unhealthy behavior, and, whenever he had a low, he was the best at picking himself up. Was it because the Japanese man actually had a supportive family who had helped him deal with the same problems in his younger years, while he had been on his own for the most part, Viktor didn’t know. His mom had tried her best for so many years, but in the situation they had been living in, her best efforts were, sadly, insufficient.
The point was, when it came to psychological problems, Yuuri was the one to listen to in the relationship. And that, Viktor hadn’t even noticed his current, horrendous state.
-Alright, he simply replied, softly, lovingly, as he shuffled closer to his warm lover, laying next to him, before whispering, slowly closing his eyes.
-Goodnight, beloved.
The kids had stayed locked inside the bedroom for the entire morning. Yuuri and Viktor had, together, decided on letting them rest as much as they needed, and desired, staying outside the room, and producing just as much noise as respectful people in libraries. Even Makkachin seemed to get the, to say the least, silent agreement, keeping still and quiet.
It had taken for the two men to start making a very late breakfast, for the door to unlock, first unleashing Potya, who ran out of the room faster than Viktor had ever seen her go, then Yuri and Alexei.
The sight the silver haired man was greeted by what had, bitterly, been the one he had expected.
Yuri’s hair, which, normally, reached his shoulders, seemed to have migrated in the back of his head, all in one big, rather worrisome, knot. His brother’s own locks weren’t looking good either, every singular hair acting as if they were their own individual, not one going in the same direction than another. Even the shaved, way shorter, hair, all around the boy’s skull, somehow had gotten messy overnight. And, giving it a little bit more attention, a small part of the tresses had wrapped around his eyebrow piercing, seemingly stuck there.
The clothes covering them had been the same ones as the ones they had gotten out of the hospital with. Therefore, the same ones they had, also, walked in the building wearing. Ripped, black jeans for Yuri, and cargo pants the same color for Alexei. Came with that, on the side of the blond, a black shirt with an orange paw print, from an unidentified big feline, most likely, accessorised with his favorite leopard print jacket. As for the taller one, his black hoodie valorised a medium sized, low quality, cheap looking, picture of a cow. Each piece of clothing was seen wrinkly, and messy, pretty normal for the rough night they must have gone through.
But not as rough and difficult as the one the kids wearing them had just lived.
If Viktor had had to choose three words to describe what he was seeing, they would have been, exhausted, void, and dead.
Both Yuri and Alexei, were paler than the man had ever seen them, the eldest of the two pretty much matching his brother’s usual skin tone. They were carrying themselves like the sky was on their shoulders, unabling them from standing upright, which they already, almost, never did properly. But, most importantly, they seemed drained of all life.
Empty green eyes, that once were sparkling with passion, excitement, life. Now deceased.
Emotions were starting to bubble up Viktor’s throat, blocking his lungs and unabling his vocal cords, when Yuuri spoke up in a soft, calm voice, accented russian, snapping his fiance out of the unagreeable sensations.
-Goodmorning. Breakfast is almost ready, if you want to take a seat.
While the kids slowly made their way up to the small kitchen table, Viktor turned to give a warm, loving smile to the man beside him, which was immediately returned.
He loved Yuuri so much.
A few minutes later, the two men were sitting down in front of the twins, after settling down the last plates. On the table, was a few options, like the sandwiches topped with fish the Japanese man loved so much, a box of nutritional, Yakoved approved cereals, and, of course, the obligatory rye bread, plain, ready to be enjoyed with either way each man could desire.
Rye bread in the Pkisetsky household had been, for as long as Viktor could remember, a very serious business. He had one specific memory, that once Nikolai and the twins had moved to Saint-Petersburg, the old man had spent three whole weeks going to every single bakery in the area, in between lifts, to find the best place to buy the holy pastry, just to end up making his own most of the time. And, unsurprisingly, it had always been delicious. The grandpa’s passion had rubbed off on his grandsons, who became terrors the moment the rye bread wasn’t to their liking, and, as time had passed, on Viktor, too. The side effects weren’t as pushed on him as they were on Yuri and Alexei, for sure, and he was far from having the talent to do his own without messing it up, but his household never lacked any rye bread, in contrast to the normal wheat bread.
Quietly, everyone around the table started serving themselves, dropping the food onto their plates, pouring themselves some milk, munching without a word.
Once they were finished, faster than the pace they had been swallowing had indicated, the twins stood up, setting their dirty plates into the dishwasher, alongside their silverware, before going back to the master bedroom. Yuri picked up Potya from where she was sleeping, on the couch, and Alexei closed the door behind them.
Viktor and Yuuri could only watch, until they couldn’t see them anymore. What could they do, except leave them alone to let everything flow, to figure out the meanings and new ways?
Throughout the day, the kids were observed outside the bedroom, during sparse occasions. Once, Yuri refilled Potya’s food and water bowls. Both boys went to the bathroom a few times, and, at some point, took turns to take a shower. They walked out when they were called, for a small lunch, and for dinner. But, for the remaining hours, they stayed locked up inside.
It went on for five whole days, of worry and anxiety and unexpected tears.