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He hated them. All of them. Every single pair "made for each other" out there. Every single rule that was made out about it. He abhorred people who smiled at the person next to them as if they were everything. He despised himself for becoming like this because of it. He hated the very idea of it and yet the sight of the stagnant digits on his wrist still make his heart lurch in a mixture of pain and joy.
He watched him glide through the ice and it seems as if it revolved around him. As if everything was all his. The Russian didn't skate- he danced to the music. He saw it- the precise movements and the expressive faces Victor was pulling. He looked so incomplete, no, somber, no, not even that could describe the feelings around the platinum blonde skater.
He looked so sad but whenever he did his quads, it was as if for a split moment, that crucial second, the atmosphere rose up. It was almost as if Victor was his timer itself. He was dancing so intricately, so prettily, gorgeously. Yuri has never felt so intrigued by such a performance. He hated the motive behind it, but, this, feeling- it reminded him of how he had felt when he met his very significant other.
Victor was truly in love and he saw it through the performance- true to heart, he doesn't understand how much more naive this man could get towards the concept of those timers. It must be because he hated it that he always complained about how Victor was so jittery this day. Victor was showing much more of his emotional side than he ever has during competitions like these.
When that Japanese Yuuri had walked away, Yuri couldn't explain why Victor was talking much more somberly that night. He couldn't explain why the next morning he made so many mistakes during his morning skating routine.Victor was inexplainable that night, that day, and for the rest of the week. He always had this profound look on his face; almost as if his mind was thinking about something so important it has taken every part of himself.
He knows it’s that Yuuri. He knows very well, it’s him who Victor is thinking about and it hurts him to know so. Victor is more fragile than one may think- if that Yuuri dare make Victor fall down and hurt himself, Yuri wouldn’t know what to do. Yuri always looked up to this Russian legend almost as if he was his older brother.
When he had arrived in Japan, there was something different with Victor. The way he did everything was so different- it was if he found something here, in this place- this place that Yuri didn’t really like. Just what was here?
Victor was different, nevertheless, he smiled more. He laughed more. He was more of himself here, but it wasn’t enough, he wanted Victor safe and sound back in Russia. Not here, where it was like everything you did was like treading on uncharted waters- it sent adrenaline, but sometimes like a cat, he’d want to curl, hide, and be safe.
That Yuuri was weird too. He didn’t like him. He looked so fragile, even more so than Victor. But, when he teased him about his weight, his skating- he smirked at him. And when they ate katsudon, that twenty-three year old man was acting weird. He was talking loudly to Victor quite comfortably when he heard something- he knows those footsteps all too well.
Those footsteps of insecurity- why was he walking like that? They were slow but also in a hurry hitting against those Japanese floorboards, his heart clenched. Why? Even the way they got louder as he ran towards the entrance, he heard them resounding. They left an impact on his mind.
What was wrong with that Yuuri? It’s not as if he knew what it felt like insecurity was. Sure, his weight was great but at least he had Victor for his soulmate. Not a dead one.
Katsuki Yuuri didn’t understand pain or insecurity- having a slashed line looking like a scar on your timer was horrifying but- he, Yuri Plisetsky, felt shadowed over by the fact he had stagnant digits, and covered with a scar only to signify something. Signifying that he was an outcast- that he was never to see happiness through the physicality of a human being.
dead. an outcast for having a soulmate gone. Katsuki Yuuri didn’t understand him- so why was he walking like that?! He wasn’t like him! Nothing at all!
That was the reason he skated, to seek praise from people- that’s why he wanted Victor as his coach, to teach him his ways. To get people surprised of his skating- to get them to notice him and like him. So that at least for a few moments, he could cherish those beautiful cheering voices and feel like he was part of society.
Like he wasn’t alone. Like there was someone for him. That he mattered and he was something. That he could live. That he was meant to at least feel happy. That he was Yuri Plisetsky, the man who was fated to be alone but struggled through his lifetime and he was fine with that.
At least, he wasn’t as pathetic as that Yuuri who thinks he’s won everything because he had Victor as his soulmate. But maybe, just maybe, there was this slightest chance that soulmates really were meant to meet because they’re to love each other’s weakest and strongest sides- in short, their embodiment.
Yuri Plisetsky doubted that Yuuri could love every part of Victor. Victor was too bright- too much of everything, but he supposes maybe, there’s a person who could contain and love even more of Victor Nikiforov.
He hopes but it scares him to the point he scratches harshly on his timer letting his skin bleed profusely. He doesn’t wipe it off, staining his clothes and the futon.
“What would you like to do if you win?”
Silence overcomes the rink, Victor and Yuri were staring at the Japanese. It’s hanging over them heavily. Yuri’s hands were mildly shaking, he was anxious to hear Yuuri’s answer. From the edge of his eyes, Victor was holding his breath. Yuuri’s eyes were dilated, probably scared of losing.
Then he speaks-
“I want to eat pork cutlet bowls with you Victor,” Yuri can see him tremble as he spouts out those words. He’s scared of saying out loud, Yuri noticed that as he opens his mouth once again.
“I want to keep on winning and keep on eating pork cutlet bowls! So, I’ll skate to Eros!”
Yuuri definitely surprised him. His words were weird. He looked at Victor who gulped at him saying those words. He was surprised, an element Victor loved. Something that he lost as his fame rose higher and higher through the charts.
Somehow, in that split moment, he noticed something- the aura around the both of them was immersing and crazy. It was invisible yet he could feel it. He could see how perfect they were made for each other. Almost like two jigsaw puzzle pieces locked in together.
He saw Victor smile- he sparkled. Yuri saw how happy the Russian was. Never had he seen such a person grin so widely. Yuuri was made for Victor, he may be just fifteen, bu he sees it. He sees how Yuuri is insecure- he finally understands those facial expressions and the way he walks.
Victor really is too big, too much, too good, too pure, too flirty- every positive adjective out there could describe him. He was an embodiment of a true legend. Intricate, moving, sometimes cold and serious. He had that hidden motive, but sometimes for the better good. He also had that side of him where he was fragile like glass- if you touched him, he’d crumble.
He was flirty. He was plain. Simple. Everything. He shone like the sun, blinding his eyes- but when he sees Yuuri, maybe Victor is the moon. He was the moon- plain and simple, trying new things but that was nothing to the crowd. Having Yuuri as his sun has made him shine, made people rush over and think, ‘Wow, Victor.’
Yuri feels like he’s been the night sky this whole time. Hiding behind the celestial bodies and blaming the stars that burnt wounds through his eyes being unable to truly see the truth. The sun and the moon finally collide and it burns his eyes wide open. These two are linked by fate- that’s too much. Yet, he gazes at it- the beauty of having someone who’ll love you forever until you turn bones and dust. The grace behind it all. It was made to be beautiful- not ugly and scarring. Yuri knows that Yuuri can love this man- he just does. If he didn’t, then why would their timers not have stopped when their eyes had met? That would have been stupid because-
They’re beautiful- just the both of them expressing indirect woven words as if they were the only ones that mattered in the world.