Chapter Text
Sixty Impossible Things
Part: Twenty-Three
*
This story that has no meaning
Will vanish tonight, together with the stars.
If I could see you, eternity will be born from hope.
Stay close to me. Don’t go away.
I’m afraid of losing you.
Your hands, your legs
My hands, my legs
And our heartbeats
Are blending together.
Let’s leave together.
I’m ready now.
- “Stammi Vicino, Non Te Ne Andare”
“Here? We’re going here? Again?”
Yuuri stares up at the art museum he and Viktor had visited at the end of their date. After Viktor had returned from his talk with Yakov, he, Yuuri, and Yuri had ordered dinner from room service. Viktor hadn’t mentioned what happened with Yakov as they’d eaten, and neither Yuuri nor Yuri had asked. There hadn’t seemed to be a pressing need. Viktor hadn’t seemed upset. He wasn’t as settled as he’d been at lunch, something was clearly on his mind, but he’d laughed as he pouted about Yuri taking the first “Yuuri Katsuki in Stockholm” Instagram post, and he’d smiled as he, once they’d finished their meal, directed Yuuri to get dressed so that they could go out.
So Yuuri hadn’t asked.
And now here they are, back to where they’d been when Viktor had finally broken down and talked about skating.
After he had told his coach about his intent to retire.
Drawing in a breath, Yuuri smooths a hand down his coat. Whatever happened, they would deal with it. He’d help Viktor deal with it. They’d deal with it together, and it would be fine. It would all be fine.
“Yes, here,” Viktor says as he reaches for Yuuri’s other hand. Clasping it, he guides Yuuri away from the rental car and toward the museum entrance. “There are still a few more pieces I wanted us to see. If that’s all right with you,” Viktor adds as he glances at Yuuri.
“It is.”
At that, Viktor smiles. “Wonderful.”
Once inside, Viktor pays for their tickets, and they begin to make their way through the museum. Viktor chatters as they go, regaling Yuuri with details about the art and the artists. Yuuri follows, content to listen, to wait for Viktor to be at a place where he could talk about whatever happened between him and Yakov.
What might it have been? Maybe Yakov had gotten angry at Viktor for deciding to retire. Maybe he’d refused to coach Viktor for the rest of the season because of it. And not just that. Maybe he’d refused to coach Yuri, too, for his part in all of this, for getting the ball rolling by contacting Yuuri after Sochi, or for shouting at him in the hotel dining room that morning. Or maybe Yakov had somehow gotten in touch with Celestino and convinced him to drop Yuuri for all the drama he has caused the last couple of months.
Or maybe, maybe, Yakov had found a way to convince Viktor to keep skating next season. Maybe he’d set up a secret camera at the rink and had watched Yuuri and Yuri skate and had seen how much they’d progressed, and maybe he had convinced Viktor that it would be more exciting to skate against them both next season.
What would Yuuri say to that, if Viktor told him that he’d decided to unretire? He supposes that he’d have to support Viktor. Yuuri wants him to be happy. But would this make him happy? He’s been so miserable lately, for the last year at least, and in large part due to skating. Would Viktor be less miserable if he was skating against Yuuri and Yuri? Skating against Yuuri these past few years hadn’t made Viktor less miserable, but then Viktor and Yuuri hadn’t known each other and Yuuri hadn’t skated like he had today.
But how would that even work, both he and Viktor continuing to skate next season? Would Yuuri stay with Celestino? Would he be separated from Viktor for the entire year with only these brief snatches of time for them to share with one another? Or would Yuuri have to move to St. Petersburg so that he and Viktor could continue, too? But who would coach him if he did? Even though Yakov had said that Yuuri had talent as a skater, Yuuri doubts that means Yakov would want to coach him. Besides, Yuuri doubts he’d do well with Yakov as a coach anyway, so that-
“Yuuri?”
Yuuri jumps, torn from his spiralling thoughts. His gaze lands first on Viktor, who stands before him now, and then at the room at large, the same one that they’d been in when Viktor had finally talked about skating. And it’s not just the same room. They’re standing by the same bench that they’d sat on then, too.
As if he, too, is recalling that moment, a trembling smile appears on Viktor’s face. He gestures to the bench with his free hand. “Would you like to sit?”
“I- Okay.”
Yuuri sits, and Viktor does, too. They look at each other, but neither of them speak. Viktor’s free hand fidgets for a moment by his thigh, then he sends Yuuri another trembling smile.
Yuuri braces himself. Whatever happened, it would be okay. They would be okay.
They would be okay.
“Yuuri.”
“Yes?”
“Soon we will part ways.”
The words are like a bucket of water, dousing Yuuri, freezing the breath in his chest.
“Because the competition will end,” Viktor says quickly, reaching out with his free hand to clasp Yuuri’s. He squeezes both hands, and the tightness of the hold shocks a breath back into Yuuri. “That’s all I meant. We’ll have to part ways soon, you back to Detroit and I to Petersburg.”
“Oh.” Yuuri stutters out an exhale. The tension eases a bit from his shoulders. “Yeah. I mean yes. We will.”
They will. It hasn’t been something that Yuuri’s thought a lot about, the end of the competition and his return to Detroit. He’s been too caught up in the present and all of its twists and turns to worry about it. And that in and of itself is remarkable, Yuuri not thinking about the future, not obsessing about what might happen or how everything will crash and burn to ash and dust.
Yet now he begins to wonder.
Viktor peers at him a moment longer before loosening the hold that he has on Yuuri’s hands. But he doesn’t let them go. He cradles them instead, staring down at them as he says, “As you know, I didn’t handle our prior separation well. After Sochi, when I thought- When I hadn’t heard from you, I was- Well, I was as Yura said as I was, both sad and mopey.”
“I’m sorry.”
Viktor looks up at him and shakes his head. “There is no need for you to apologize. That’s not- I know why you didn’t call. I should have realized it then, too, but I-”
He stops then, and the fragile smile returns to his face. It wrenches at Yuuri, as does the delicate hold that Viktor has on his hands. He’s not sure why they do, so he waits and watches as Viktor continues.
“I merely meant to express how poorly I handled that time. And after, too, when I couldn’t see you in Detroit.”
Viktor pauses again and the fragile smile on his face starts to fade, but it’s into surety rather than sadness. That same surety shines in his eyes as he resumes. “I don’t want to return to how I used to be when I part from you this time. I don’t think that I will. As I said at lunch, I’m not the same person I was when I came here. I’ve faced many things I’d been avoiding, and I feel more certain of myself than I have been in years. And yet,” Viktor continues as he draws in a breath, “I still fear regression. I still fear the old doubts consuming me once again. More than that, I fear for the resulting paralysis, of doing nothing and persisting in despair. So I have done something. Something that is, I think, bold.”
Viktor releases Yuuri’s hands. He reaches for one pocket of his suit jacket. Then, with a shaking hand, he removes a small black velvet box.
Inside are two gold rings.
Yuuri stares at the rings, utterly frozen.
A few seconds of silence pass and then Viktor speaks. “I know I interpreted your vow to remain by my side as a marriage proposal when you may not have intended for it to be. So these are not to push you into an engagement. Rather, I hoped for these to be a reminder of the other when we part. Something that we can have on us at all times. Something visible. Something tangible, even as we skate.”
Yuuri lifts his gaze to look at Viktor. He’s not looking back at Yuuri. His head is ducked and his hair has slipped before his face. Yuuri thinks, though, that he’s staring down at the rings.
Another few seconds pass and then Viktor says, his voice quiet, “It’s probably foolish. This is not the same as before. Then, we had one night. Less than, really. One dance. But here, we’ve had so much time together. We’ve gotten to know each other in ways that we hadn’t before. And it’s… It’s been… wonderful. Like something from a dream.”
He looks up at Yuuri then. His smile has returned, but it’s not fragile or trembling this time.
It’s soft and tender and tinged with awe.
When Viktor speaks again, his voice is like his smile, and Yuuri thinks that he should be soothed, that he, too, should be smiling. But he’s not. Something still nettles him, still sets him on edge.
“Do you remember when you said that to me?” Viktor asks after a moment. “It was the first time that we spoke on Skype. You said that this, us, was like a dream. I didn’t understand you then, but I do now. This week has been like a dream. It’s been miraculous, utterly miraculous. You are miraculous, and I want to ensure that I sustain the belief that I’ve found here when I return to Petersburg, that I do not fall into doubt and despair as I had before. So I bought these.”
He looks down at the rings, and Yuuri does as well. They’re beautiful, plain gold on the outside, though Yuuri can see a hint of something carved on the inside. And they should make him happy. Shouldn’t they? This should make him happy, this heartfelt gesture. But he isn’t. Yuuri frowns at the rings instead. Why? Why? He should be happy. He should be ecstatic at this permanent proof of Viktor’s affections-
At the thought, the frown fades from Yuuri’s face and understanding dawns.
why the fuck are you ignoring viktor
Where the fuck have you been? You were supposed to be here hours ago.
I know you hate it when we fight. But please, please don’t leave again.
The words weigh differently in the wake of Yuuri’s conversation with Yuri, how they had spoken about Yakov and Celestino and their unintentional hurts. They’d still hurt all the same, and Yuuri had, too, he’d hurt other people, too overwhelmed by the ruin of his mind to realize the impact of his actions.
Especially on Viktor.
But this is a hurt that precedes Yuuri. He understands that now, both from Yakov
I was the one who found him crying the first time over a boy.
And from Viktor, too.
I was so happy when Yuri told me that you’d probably forgotten everything.
Really?
Yes! Because that means you’d only forgotten to call.
Again.
I’m so happy you came back. I was worried.
And again.
But to lose this, to lose you- The thought is unbearable.
And again.
I know you hate it when we fight. But please, please don’t leave again.
Yuuri reaches out then and lays his hands around Viktor’s, still clasping the box and the rings. He’s even more grateful for this time that he’s had with Viktor and Yuri, for how they’ve helped him to find his way out of the maze of his mind, to see beyond himself and the hurt he’s caused and to begin to make amends. And he has begun, Yuuri knows he has, with Yuri and with Viktor, too.
I know you might not believe this after yesterday, but I’m not going anywhere.
More than once.
You keep skating, and I’m here. You stop skating, and I’m here.
Enough to be heard.
I’m sorry I left again, Vitya. I wasn’t thinking, and I hurt you.
Enough to be known.
Yet as Yuuri can attest, you can still feel a thing but know that it’s not true.
You can also know a thing but still not feel that it’s true.
None of this seemed real at first.
You said that this, us, was like a dream.
I mean, I’m studying for finals and hoping not to crash and burn at Nationals like I did at Sochi, and then Yuri Plisetsky’s texting me and then you are, and then we’re talking, and I- It seemed- It seemed like something from a dream.
I didn’t understand you then, but I do now.
“Yuuri?”
Yuuri looks up at Viktor and his heart breaks, both for how Viktor feels right now and for how he had felt before. Because Yuuri understands it now. He finally can. He can see outside of himself and can see how heartbreaking it is to think you’d fallen into a wonderland because somebody wanted you, because they said that they loved you. He can see how sad it is to believe that such a development can only be a dream, that it could never happen to you, not truly, not in reality, that would be impossible, utterly impossible, because you were a wreck and a mess and a failure and you didn’t deserve it, you weren’t worthy of it.
You weren’t worthy of being wanted and cherished and loved.
Even now, I see those thoughts haunt you.
You couldn’t believe that you could inspire me, that I could find you beautiful, that I could want you, that I would love you.
And yet, you fought for me all the same.
Yuuri glances at the rings held between their hands. He wants to cry, for himself and for Viktor and Yuri, too, for how they had all hated themselves before, how they had all felt that no one would like them because they were too anxious or too sad or too angry, and how they had all felt so alone, so lost in the dark and unsure how to find their way out. They had struggled and they stumbled, pasting a bright smile over a fragile heart, lashing out at the world before it could turn on them, and running from the pain and retreating to isolation, to solitude, to silence, because they knew no other way.
I don’t want to feel like that anymore. I have for so long.
I don’t want to go back.
I refuse to.
Progress is hard. Sometimes the way forward seems impossible, the path too long or too dark or too difficult to surmount. Even the stoutest of hearts can doubt, especially when you feel that you walk alone.
Yet the lyrics provide room for another interpretation, not of an impossible fantasy, but of a beautiful reality, of wishing to leave the old, lonely story behind and embark on a new adventure, hand in hand with a beloved.
The terrors of abandoning the known for the unknown fade when you face that unknown with someone, when you stand by their side.
Lifting a hand, Yuuri touches one of the rings. “These are beautiful. Thank you for buying them. I want us to wear them. I do. I really do, Vitya. But not right now.”
Viktor’s hands tighten around the ring box.
“And it’s not because it’s too fast or it’s too much,” Yuuri says as he looks back up at Viktor. “It’s not. It’s more that you didn’t buy these out of love, or not just love. You bought them because of fear. Because of doubt.”
Viktor shakes his head. “I don’t doubt you, Yuuri.”
“I know you don’t. You doubt yourself.”
Shock ripples across Viktor’s face. He stares at Yuuri with wide, wide eyes.
Yuuri persists, determined but not unkind. “You doubt that someone could love you. And I get it. I do. I felt the same way at the start of all this. You were a dream. You had to be. I was a mess and a failure. Who could ever want me? Who could ever love me? No one, so this had to be a dream. You had to be a dream.”
The tension begins to ease from Viktor. His grip loosens around the box.
“It’s different for you,” Yuuri continues. “You haven’t failed with skating like I have, but I think that’s been an issue for you, too. Skating has been all that people have seen of you, and it’s been all that they’ve wanted of you. They’ve wanted Viktor Nikiforov, champion figure skater, but not Viktor. Not Vitya. I know because that’s all I saw of you at first, too.”
At that, Viktor shakes his head. “You love me. I know that you do”
“But it’s still hard for you to believe it. And I get it, Vitya. I do. It took me so long to be able to believe it, that you liked me, that you loved me. That I was worth loving even if I was a mess. It took me so long to believe in me,” Yuuri adds after a beat. “To really believe it, to know it and to feel it, too. I think- I think that’s where you are now. You know that I love you, but you don’t believe it because it’s still unbelievable to you. It’s unbelievable that anybody could love you at all.”
I suppose I am selfish. And greedy.
Who am I if I’m not skating?
That’s why I brought you here, not because you lack anything, but because I do.
Viktor turns his head away. His hair slips before his face again, but it can’t hide the way that his chest hitches or the wet sound of his breath as he starts to cry.
“I want to help you believe,” Yuuri says, “like you helped me. Whenever I doubted myself, you told me that I was good, that I was beautiful, that I was talented, that I was strong, that I deserved you and deserved to be loved. You helped me believe. I want to do the same for you.”
Tilting his head, Viktor peers at him from behind his hair. “You already have.”
You love me.
Yes.
“I want to again.”
“You don’t have to.”
For a moment, all Yuuri can do is smile. There’s no joy in it though, both the response and the tremulous way that Viktor says it proving his point. Lifting his hand, Yuuri brushes back Viktor’s hair and cups the side of his face. “I know I don’t. I want to, Vitya.”
You love me.
Yes.
“You’re worth it. My time. My effort. My love. And I want to tell you that, again and again and again, until there’s no doubt in your mind, until all this stops feeling like a dream and feels real, so real that it can’t be denied or forgotten, no matter how far apart we are from each other.”
You love me.
Yes. Yes. Yes, Vitya, yes.
Viktor closes his eyes. He turns his head again, but this time into Yuuri’s hand, seeking comfort in the touch as well as concealment. And Yuuri understands this, too, how overwhelming the good can sometimes be, how you need a moment, or sixty of them, to process it and to deal.
Oh, Yuuri. Do you need a minute?
He had then, standing before Viktor in the airport, and he had over Skype as well, and in the hall outside their hotel room right before they kissed. Viktor had given him that minute, that moment to collect himself, so Yuuri gives it to Viktor now. It helps him, too. It gives him time to draw in a breath
All you have been from the moment we met is bold.
To prepare himself
I was the meteor now, caught in your orbit.
To use his words
Would you like to know how you have endeared yourself to me, lyubov moya?
To be thoroughly, terribly romantic.
Viktor draws in a shaky breath. He releases it in an even shakier exhale. But he also tilts his head back toward Yuuri and opens his eyes.
Watch me. Don’t take your eyes off me.
They stare at each other in the hush of the museum. Then Viktor nods. Yuuri lowers his hand and closes it once more around Viktor’s, around the rings and the box still held between them. Then he draws in a breath and begins.
01.
“There’s this sound you make when you’re happy. Or maybe not happy. Content. When you’re content. It’s like a sigh. I don’t think you realize that you’re making it, which is why I love it so much. Because it’s you. How you really feel. And it’s beautiful.”
Viktor stops moving. Yuuri thinks that he might stop breathing.
02 and 03.
“I love how smart you are, too. Like with my posters. Mari said one thing, just one- I mean, she knew exactly what she was saying, but you didn’t because you don’t know her- but even then, you knew anyway. You figured it out so quickly, Vitya. Because you’re smart.”
04 and 05.
“But even then,” Yuuri continues, and he can’t help but smile as he says it, as charmed by the memory of Viktor then as by Viktor now, “even then you sometimes say the dumbest things. Like when I was crying over Vicchan-”
“Vicchan?”
“My dog. And yes,” Yuuri says because in for his posters, in for his dog, “I named my dog after you. I was twelve when I got him, and he- he was like Makka.”
Viktor’s face softens at the mention of Makkachin. “A poodle?”
Yuuri nods. “But smaller. A toy poodle. And when he- when I was crying, you know, after seeing Makka for the first time, you thought it was because I didn’t like dogs. Which, I mean, even if I did, who would cry about that? That- That doesn’t make any sense. And how you thought Sara Crispino was sleeping with her brother.” Yuuri shakes his head, a small smile on his face as he remembers that early car ride from the airport to the hotel. “I love that about you, how both smart and not smart you are.”
06, 07, 08, 09, 10, 11, and 12.
“But it’s not just that,” Yuuri says. “I love how you blush when you’re flustered, really and truly flustered. And how you pout, too. And how you whine as you pout about being flustered. And how nervous you can be sometimes, like how you were when you were about to meet my family or before our date. It’s-” Yuuri hesitates, but this is not a time for hesitation so he plows on even as his face heats, even as he stumbles over his words. “It’s cute. You are. You’re cute. Especially when you smile. Because when you’re happy- really happy- your smile takes over your entire face, and it’s… overwhelming. In a good way. In the best way.”
The smile appears now, blooming slow and sweet across Viktor’s face.
13, 14, and 15.
“But even in those moments when I’m overwhelmed, you’re patient about it. You give me time to collect myself. Even if it’s just a moment, like when I cover your face, or if it’s more, if it’s hours walking around Stockholm because I’m overwhelmed by all that I feel, you give me the time to calm down. And I appreciate it,” Yuuri says, his blush fading beneath a wave of sincerity, of absolute gratitude for this man before him and all that he has done for Yuuri. “I appreciate it so much because I know how hard it’s been, all this time you’ve spent waiting for me. But you do, you have, and I love that about you.”
“It’s worth it,” Viktor says. “Every moment is worth it. Even when it’s hard.”
16, 17, 18, 19, and 20.
“It is,” Yuuri says. “But I also love it when you don’t give me space. In bed-” he begins, and here the blush comes again, hotter this time, yet Yuuri continues on, staring straight at Viktor as he says, “When we’re sleeping, you- There’s no space, and I didn’t think that I’d like it because I’m not always comfortable with being close to people. But with you, it’s okay.”
“If it wasn’t,” Viktor says, “I would want you to tell me.”
“I know, and I love that about you, too. But I don’t need to tell you to stop. Because it’s not just then. It’s when you hug me and when you hold my face. It’s when you kiss me, too. It’s all of it,” Yuuri says. “Every way that you touch me. It makes me feel safe and cherished and loved.”
Viktor’s hands start to tremble. Yuuri feels it beneath his own. He hears it in Viktor’s voice, too, when he says, “I’m glad. That’s all I ever want you to feel.”
21, 22, and 23.
“Me, too. But when I don’t, when I’m not comfortable with it, you’re considerate of that, too. Like when we kissed for the first time, really kissed, in the hotel. I was nervous, and you saw that and you stopped. And you don’t let anyone else make me feel bad about it either. Like with Christophe before, when his comment about us made me uncomfortable. I get it now. I couldn’t before. I was so stuck on why he didn’t know about us yet that I didn’t even see how quickly you changed the conversation. But you did, and I love you for that.”
Viktor’s breath hitches and his hands begin to sink toward the bench. Yuuri eases his around until they’re beneath Viktor’s, cradling them and the box, buoying them in the space between them.
24, 25, and 26.
“And it’s not just that,” Yuuri says, relentless but not reckless, careful with the words that he says and the way that he says them so that Viktor can feel and hear and see why Yuuri loves him, so that he can believe. “You’re considerate in so many other ways, too. Like when you thought I was private, you tried to respect that. And with money, you tried to find a way to help me with it without making me feel bad. And I appreciate that so much-”
“Yuuri… Yuuri…”
“-especially because you say that you’re selfish and greedy. But everyone is. We all have things that we want. But you’re so willing to set yours aside to help others. You gave up your chance to come see me in Detroit because Yakov asked you to, because he said he needed you. And maybe because Yura did, too. And, yeah, it didn’t go well, but you still stayed for them, Vitya. You still tried. And that’s amazing. You’re amazing.”
Viktor ducks his head and twists it to the side. His breath hitches as he begins to cry.
27, 28, and 29.
Yuuri eases closer, as close as he can on the bench. He ducks his head, too, and lowers his voice to a soft murmur, to a delicate whisper that glides between them.
“You’re so encouraging, too. To me and to Yura. Especially to Yura. And he gets it. He does. You think that he hates you, but he doesn’t. He was angry, yeah, when you forgot about your promise, but he’s also seen how much you’ve helped him. I mean, when all of this started,” Yuuri says, shaking his head as he remembers, as he thinks back to the start of this wild and wonderful ride, “I asked you to stop bothering Yuri so that he’d stop bothering me, so that we could all focus on our Nationals. But you wouldn’t. You saw how this was benefitting Yuri so you kept going. And you didn’t know me then. You didn’t know how I was going to react to all this. I might have told you to- to fuck off-”
This startles a laugh out of Viktor. He tilts his head and looks at Yuuri, and the sight knocks the breath from Yuuri’s chest. Tears glisten in Viktor’s eyes, but he doesn’t drown beneath them. His gaze is dazzling and bright, with love and the beginnings of belief.
“I might have reacted badly,” Yuuri says, “but you kept going because it was helping Yura. And I love you for that. So much.”
30, 31, and 32.
“Because that’s who you are, Vitya. You care so much about people. At Sochi, I was a mess. I’m sure that people were laughing at me, especially after the- after the pole dancing. But you didn’t. I know that you didn’t. I know you were nice about it because you were nice about it here. Other people might have laughed at me for all the posters I have of you, they might have thought I was some freak, just some crazy skating fan,” Yuuri says, “but you didn’t. You didn’t mock me for it or make me feel bad, and I love you for that.”
33, 34, and 35.
“And it’s not just me, no matter what Yuri said. You think that everyone is interesting. Like with Phichit. You know who he is and you know his skating, but why would you need to? You’re at the top of the skating world, why would you need to know anyone else, but you do because you care about people and think that they’re interesting and you want to get to know them, even after everything.”
36, 37, and 38.
Yuuri pauses then, compelled to reach out again, to brush back Viktor’s hair and trail his fingers alongside Viktor’s face and comfort and soothe as much as he can. “I don’t know everything that’s happened to you,” he says softly, “but I can figure some of it out from what you’ve said and from what Yakov’s said and even from what Yuri’s said, too. I know that you’ve been hurt before.” Yuuri lowers his hand and touches the rings. “You wouldn’t need these if you haven’t been. But even if you have,” Yuuri adds, “you haven’t turned bitter. You keep trying. You keep reaching out, with our date and the rings, and with your skating, too.”
39, 40, and 41.
The steadiness that has propelled Yuuri this far begins to waver, rocked by the emotions that grip him as he thinks about Viktor and his skating. From that first competition eleven years ago to the short program just the day before. Every routine, every song, every story Viktor has told over the years. How can Yuuri possibly begin to convey the impact of it all, how profoundly this man has shaped his life? He can’t, he can’t, but he has to. Somehow he has to because Viktor deserves to know. Beyond the medals, beyond the legacy of championship after championship, Viktor has to know how much his skating means, how beautiful it is, how inspiring.
“I- Viktor, I can’t even tell you how much your skating means to me. I’ve watched you skate for eleven years, and every moment of it has been amazing. Surprising and beautiful and inspiring. And it’s- it’s heartbreaking that you don’t see it. Or that you can’t see it now. You said that you were a cipher on the ice, that you don’t skate your heart, not like I do. But that’s not true, Viktor. I wouldn’t be the skater I am today if it weren’t for you, so if I skate my heart, it’s because you do. You always have, especially now.”
Yuuri shakes his head as he recalls Viktor’s programs for this season, ‘Love Dream’ and ‘Stammi Vicino,’ and the story that he tells with them, the story of himself, dreaming, yearning, searching for someone, for acceptance, for love.
I hear a voice weeping in the distance.
Have you been abandoned as well?
“‘Stammi Vicino’ is… It’s beautiful. It’s the most beautiful thing that I’ve ever seen. Because it’s you. And the fact that you showed that to everyone… You said it yourself, Vitya. Showing your heart when you skate takes so much strength. And you did it. So you might feel weak, but you’re not. You’re so strong, and I love that about you.”
42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49.
“But even then,” Yuuri says as Viktor begins to cry once more, “even if you’re strong, you can be weak sometimes, too. And that’s okay. I love that about you, too. You say that you’re afraid sometimes and that you’re cold and that you’re selfish and manipulative. And I love you for that, too. I mean,” Yuuri says and he shivers as he does, as the memory slinks back into his mind, “you know exactly what to do to me to get your way. Our first night here, I know you came out of the shower like that on purpose. All- All glistening and nude.”
Viktor smiles at that, a shameless, knowing smile that shakes Yuuri to his core.
“And my posters,” he says as he places the hand that had been on Viktor’s face on his chest, “you nearly gave me a heart attack trying to get information out of me about my posters.”
Viktor ducks his head again, but he still smiles as he does and the sight of it warms Yuuri’s heart. “I suppose I did come on a bit strong.”
“‘A bit?’ I nearly burst into flames in the hallway outside our hotel room. But I love you for it, for that and for my tie, too, for being so damn picky about it because, seriously,” Yuuri asks, incandescent, invincible as he looks at Viktor, beautiful, wonderful, selfish, selfless Viktor, “what was so wrong with my tie?”
50, 51, 52, and 53.
Viktor bursts out laughing, and like his smile, the sound of it warms Yuuri, enveloping him as it echoes throughout the room. “Everything. Everything was wrong with it,” Viktor says as he looks at Yuuri. “But I lied to you, dorogoy. I didn’t throw it away. It’s in my suitcase right now.”
The revelation makes Yuuri smile. “You kept it? Why?”
“It’s what you wore at Sochi. I wanted to hold on to something of that night.”
The sentimentality of the gesture strikes Yuuri, but not enough to eclipse the other motive that he knows Viktor had that night. “That may be true, but you also wanted an excuse to buy me new clothes.”
Viktor laughs again. “And I wanted an excuse to buy you new clothes. You are a breathtakingly beautiful man, and you deserve clothes that are equally as beautiful.”
Even now, after all that Yuuri has said tonight, the simple compliment makes him blush. Viktor’s smile grows even more in response, and as he gazes upon it, Yuuri recalls what his drunk self had apparently told Viktor after they’d danced at Sochi, that Viktor should always look like this, that he should always be smiling, truly, joyously so. The fact that he is is sublime, and the fact that he is because of Yuuri, because Yuuri used his words, is staggering, this whole day has been, from the moment Yuri ripped the blankets away from Viktor and refused to let him suffer alone, to the conflict with Yakov and the surprising fallout, to skating with Yuri and skating before Viktor, to seeing Yuri mature right before his eyes, to this, this time with Viktor and the rings still between them, all of it staggers Yuuri, so much so that he starts to cry.
54, 55, 56, and 57.
Viktor moves then, easing his hands out from Yuuri’s careful hold. He cups Yuuri’s face, wiping the tears away with gentle strokes of his thumbs. “Oh, Yuuri. Yuuri.”
“This,” Yuuri says as he closes his eyes, as he sucks in a shaky breath. “The way that you say my name. I love that, too.”
“That’s good because it’s one of my favorite words to say.”
“I love it when you don’t say it, too. When you say instead-”
“Dorogoy.”
Yuuri shivers at the sound of the endearment. “Yes.”
“Solnyshko.”
“Yes.”
A true showman, Viktor pauses before saying the next. He leans in close, and the breath catches in Yuuri’s chest as he waits for Viktor to speak, as he remembers the way the earth shook beneath him when he realized what they meant, what Viktor had been trying, subtly, to say.
“Lyubov moya.”
“Yes.”
58 and 59.
The last affirmation sinks softly between them. Viktor’s palms are warm against Yuuri’s face, his hold steady yet gentle. Yuuri focuses on the feel of it, on the echoes of Viktor’s voice in his ears, as soothing as it was certain. Yuuri sees that same certainty in Viktor’s eyes when he opens his, and he shivers again, already knowing where that assurance will lead and ready for it, more than he thought he’d be when he first laid eyes on the box in Viktor’s hands, when he first saw Viktor walking off the plane into the Stockholm airport, when he first opened that initial baffling text from Yuri asking why the fuck he was ignoring Viktor.
He’s ready. Yuuri’s ready.
And Viktor is, too.
“I believe,” Viktor says, “that I would like to try again. May I?”
Yuuri nods.
Viktor holds his face a moment longer and then lowers his hands and settles them on the box of rings. The breath that he takes doesn’t tremble or waver or shake, and neither does his gaze as he peers at Yuuri, not in awe this time or in fear or doubt.
In love.
60.
“Yuuri, do you remember in our first Skype conversation when I said that you helped me to see the world, to realize that one existed beyond the edge of an ice rink?”
Yuuri nods again.
“The thought was exhilarating then, and it’s even more so now because I understand clearly what that world will be. It will be one of growth and joy and love, one in which we will walk hand in hand so that, if we stumble, we’ll help each other to rise and resume our path forward. Because of this, I no longer dread the future. I anticipate it.” Viktor pauses and pulls the first ring from the box. “That is what this is. This is my anticipation for our future because, while we must part in a few days, we aren’t parting for good. We’ll find our way to each other again. This I promise you. So Yuuri-”
“Yes.”
“Will you-”
“Yes.”
“Take this ring-”
“Yes.”
“And share in this promise with me?”
“Yes. Yes. Yes, Vitya, yes.”
Only the paintings bear witness to this promise made, first with the rings and then with a kiss. At least at first. Later, after they return to the hotel, after they share the news with Yuri, who endures the grandiose reenactment by Viktor with nary a grumble, a testament to his happiness for them, the world, too, bears witness in a photograph taken and posted by Viktor. In it, he and Yuuri lean into each other, their faces still red from crying, but their eyes bright, as bright as their smiles, as bright as the gleams of light off the rings visible on both their hands. And to it, he adds a simple, heartfelt, though still astonishing caption:
He said yes.
*