Chapter Text
There were four undisputed facts when it came to the timers:
- In ideal circumstances they showed three numbers: the subject’s heart rate, their soulmate’s heart rate, and the heartbeats until they met, measured by the subject’s heart
- Everyone had one and was born with them, even those without a soulmate, in which case it showed just one heart rate counter, but they could be surgically removed without consequence to physical health.
- The idea of soulmates was subjective. It could be romantic, platonic, or even a hateful relationship. Soulmates did not mean happy.
- If a timer declared two soulmates would never meet, they never would, and if by contrast it prophesied they would, it couldn’t be avoided
In light of the fourth fact, Viktor’s day was only going to get better, because his heart was eating up those numbers with startling speed. Being an athlete, his resting heart rate was low enough that he had estimated he had almost an hour before he met his soulmate, but he hadn’t taken into account his nerves, and suddenly that almost-hour looked very small. Torn between the thrill of having just skated in, and won, the grand prix finals, and the nervous excitement that was burning in the pit of his stomach, it wasn’t any surprise that the numbers were ticking down so fast.
Would he be a fellow figure skater? The possibility brought a smile to Viktor’s face, but he tried not to get his hopes up, because it could just as easily be any other person who had come to watch or a reporter, though the low resting heart rate during training season paired with peaks that could be from practice said otherwise. He looked down at his timer, embedded in the skin of his inner wrist and stared at his soulmate’s heart rate. A hundred! It was so high! Was it because they were nervous too? Viktor felt a thrill run through him and he hummed pleasantly.
“I can’t believe you’re letting your stupid soulmate distract you! What if you’d lost focus and messed up?” Yuri’s abrasive voice chased away the dreamy reverie Viktor had fallen into as they walked “Who cares about soulmates so much anyways?”
Viktor smiled down at him patronizingly, earning a glare from the younger skater “You’re just jealous because you don’t have a soulmate!” He sang the words teasingly. He only brought this up because he knew it didn’t really bother Yuri.
Yuri’s timer only showed his own heart rate, so it was really just a flashy heart rate monitor (especially so ever since Yuri got leopard-print skin to apply to it). Not having a soulmate wasn't uncommon, but people tended to avoid ever bringing up the matter. The official explanation was that some souls simply took a break before being reborn or something so technically Yuri did have a soulmate, they just didn't exist in the right time frame.
“I’ll never understand the hype and I don’t want to.” Yuri muttered, almost under his breath, but loud enough that Viktor laughed in response. Nothing could put a damper on his mood, not even Yuri’s cynical outlook.
Viktor cleared his throat and forced himself to be serious “Yuri, about your free performance, the step sequence could use more—“
“I won, so who cares?” Yuri replied, clearly annoyed by the critique “Quit nagging, Viktor.”
To Viktor’s petty delight, their coach, Yakov, walked up just in time to hear Yuri’s bratty response. Poor kid.
“Yuri! You can’t talk that way forever!” Yakov scolded him angrily. He continued yelling and Viktor found himself with another moment to fall away into his silent soulmate-musings.
It took him a moment to feel the gaze on him, and he turned around with a charming smile, fully expecting a fan too nervous to approach him directly. And how right he was! The black-haired man was staring at him with a strange look on his face, so Viktor decided to ease his discomfort by calling out to him,
“Commemorative photo?” He offered brightly, his eyes shining with good cheer. The other man blushed heavily and actually looked a little deflated. Viktor turned more fully towards him and held up a hand invitingly “Sure.” At this, the man inhaled sharply, eyes widening and, if possible, his blush deepening.
Viktor almost missed it, the faint but persistent buzz against his inner wrist. He blinked, and then his mouth fell open slightly. His wrist suddenly felt like it weighed a ton as he brought it into sight. Zero heartbeats to go. Standing directly in front of him was his—wait, where was he going? His soulmate was walking away from him without a word! Viktor stared after him, too shocked to say anything at all. It took him a moment to regain his senses, and finally he called out after him
“Wait!”
But the black-haired man was too far to hear him now, and Viktor felt like his feet were suddenly cemented to the floor. He looked back down at the timer, to check again, to confirm what had already seen. That man was his soulmate. He watched his own heart rate jump, and felt it in his chest, but his soulmate’s heart rate, which had become extremely high, slowed and steadied as though he hadn’t just done what amounted to leaving Viktor at the altar! How could his soulmate just walk away like that? Had Viktor offended him somehow? Was he one of those people who spent their lives avoiding their soulmates?
Behind him, Yakov continued to yell at Yuri, but it was like he was listening through water. The world was spinning and for a moment Viktor thought he might actually faint, but he regained himself enough to turn to face his coach and Yuri,
“I’m leaving.” Viktor told them shakily, swallowing his anxiety to try to steady his voice.
Yakov paused in his lecture to glance at Viktor disbelievingly “There’s still interviews to be done!”
Yuri shot him an incredulous and uncertain look “What happened to being in a good mood over that damn timer? I thought you wanted to meet your soulmate here or something.”
Viktor held out a shaking arm, presenting his timer to them “I did. I think.”
Apprehensively, given the taboo around purposefully looking at another’s timer, they peered down at it, both reacting with muted surprise at the zero staring back at them.
“So you did.” Yakov confirmed with a nod, not looking too terribly happy about it. The coach had warned Viktor many times not to let his soulmate take him away from doing what he really loved: figure-skating. But Viktor knew in his heart his soulmate would never make him choose between his two loves! Their bond would be unconditional! Or… he had thought that would be the case, but suddenly all his idealistic dreams were starting to look bleak.
“So?” Yuri prompted, somehow managing to sound both impatient and disinterested “Where is she?”
“He.” Viktor corrected quickly, garnering a raised brow from the younger skater “I… don’t actually know where he went.” The confession made his vision swim again, and his eyes stung with the threat of tears “He looked at me, and then walked away.” People didn't do that, they didn't walk away from their soulmates. People didn't walk away from Victor under normal circumstances, let alone look him dead in the eye and reject him so coldly.
“Oh.” Yuri replied after a long moment of heavy silence.
“Yeah. Oh.” Viktor echoed softly. He looked over his shoulder at the door where his soulmate had disappeared. Oh was definitely right.
* * *
“Yuri,”
Yuuri glanced around in surprise at hearing his name spoken in the voice of his idol. To his shock, Viktor Nikiforov was standing just meters away, advising Yuri Plisetsky on his performance. Only briefly did his eyes fall on the younger of the pair, feeling shame well up in his throat, remembering how Yuri had berated him in the bathroom earlier, calling on him to retire.
“About your free performance, the step sequence could use more—“
“I won, so who cares?” Yuri interrupted “Quit nagging, Viktor.”
Yuuri felt a spark of anger in his chest at Yuri's rudeness. The pair approached their coach, and to Yuuri’s petty satisfaction he didn’t look happy with Yuri’s nonchalant attitude either.
“Yuri! You can’t talk that way forever!” Yuri’s coach scolded him harshly, leading into a long lecture Yuuri had no interest in eavesdropping on, because he was busy staring at his long time idol, Viktor.
How long had he dreamed of skating on the name ice as Viktor Nikiforov? Failing had never been part of that dream. To his shock and mild horror (and admittedly, pleasure), Viktor turned to look at him, flashing him a winning smile that took Yuuri’s breath away.
“A commemorative photo?” Viktor asked. It felt like a punch to Yurri’s stomach: Viktor didn’t recognize him as a fellow competitor. He thought he was just a fan (and while he’d be right about the fan part, it hurt to be made out to be just that). Yuuri just knew he was blushing something fierce. Viktor took his silence as hesitation and held out a hand “Sure.”
Yuuri inhaled sharply and didn’t hesitate in turning around and walking away as briskly as he could manage.
Hisashi Morooka called after him uncertainly “Katsuki-kun? You don’t want a picture with Viktor?”
He didn’t turn around, not even as he felt Viktor’s stare bore into the back of his skull. No one could understand the humiliation that had taken hold in him. The frigid air outside greeted him like an old friend, soothing his face still burning with blush. He wanted to curl up in a dark alley and not move for a month, so that when he came back, everyone would be too preoccupied with his disappearance to remember his failure. But that wasn’t how things worked, he had a lot to sort out and it was time to finally go home. He'd been gone too long, long enough that he hadn't been with his dog in his last years (a regret he was sure would plague him for some time). He felt his heartbeat steadying and he glanced down at his timer to watch it drop as he concentrated on breathing evenly.
He couldn’t help but notice his soulmate’s heart rate was unusually high. Usually it was so low, presumably because they were an athlete, so it was odd to see it as high as it was. He hoped his soulmate wasn’t distressed, one half of the pair having a bad day was enough!
Despite the elevated rate, watching his soulmate’s heart rate was soothing, and he felt himself calming down considerably. It was tangible proof that he was worth something to someone. Someone watched his heart too, smiled down at their timer imaging what the person on the other end might be like, like he had done a million times. Of course a good portion of those fantasies had included Viktor on the other end, but that was beside the point.
It would be a relief to put a face to the heart. Only Sixty-two million nine hundred and eight thousand five hundred and thirty-two beats to go. Roughly two year. He could survive two more years, even if nothing changed at all.