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Viktor awoke one clear morning, full and alive, and the first thing he saw was the endless blue of the sky.
There are no set patterns for the conception of an immortal. Some are born at the site of deep human tragedy, as if conjured up to be a vessel of the emotion itself. Others appear in the untouched, beautiful places of the world, a spontaneous generation.
It’s been many years since that day when Viktor woke up. The once-captivating sky no longer dazzles him, the trees no longer bring him peace. And the humans, they no longer pull him in, their short lives and petty concerns passing like the years. Viktor doesn’t involve himself in their affairs except when forced to, not anymore.
More often than not, Viktor lays in the bottom of the lake and watches the clouds go by above the water, detached from it all, until the day-night-rain-sun-snow blur is indistinguishable.
Occasionally a human entering his land disturbs this, but an offering is an offering and resisting the call is more effort than it’s worth.
Once, he would have made his entrance in a swirl of water, resplendent with flowers in his hair. That used to be fun. He’d been so excited, eager to play games and tricks, collecting human toys. He would dole out great prizes and great sorrows in equal amounts, all at his own whims.
That was long ago. Now he merely appears at the edge of the water without fanfare.
Perhaps breaking the record for quickest petition granted, Viktor follows the petitioner’s red string without trouble and solves his petty crisis. He tosses the offering coins into the pond and breaks the bread in half. Human food is tasteless, but the birds enjoy it, so he scatters it to bits in the grass for them.
Then he retreats to the lake, and to stillness.
Katsuki Yuuri is on a quest that’s brought him all the way up to the top of this bare mountain. Exhausted, heart-tired, and nearly penniless, it takes the very last of his energy to remain upright. He’s been told that there will be a door, but that promise has yet to pan out. Even though it’s midsummer, the air is chill and the foliage is sparse.
Little rocks, dislodged as he walks, swiftly fall back down the mountain.
His mother always said that it’s better to deal with your problems with other humans, and that turning to otherworldly help only ends in tragedy. She wouldn’t be happy about this journey of Yuuri’s, and it’s for the best that she doesn’t know.
Maybe there isn’t a door at all. Perhaps this entire trek is like chasing a fiction. Yuuri sits down on a vaguely flat rock underneath a struggling tree and rubs his eyes.
“Chilly morning, isn’t it?”
Yuuri jumps and nearly falls down the mountain.
It’s another man: tall and young, with short gray hair and blue traveling clothes. He carries a basket under one arm and is suspiciously clean.
Where did he come from!?
“Hello,” Yuuri greets, tilting his head. He must have been resting for longer than he thought, to be so easily snuck up on. “Are you looking for the doorway too?”
“Oh, I know where it is.” The man sits next to him, entirely too close. “Petitioning the fae?”
Yuuri laughs and awkwardly shifts away. “I suppose that’s the only reason people go up here. Yes.”
“That’s a dangerous thing to do, so I’ve heard.” The man doesn’t sound concerned. He doesn’t scoot closer.
“Yes. I hope, if I have a chance to speak with him, my offering is well-received.”
“Him? Do you know much about this fae?”
“Just stories from when I was a child.” A young Yuuri had been fascinated by magic, by great feats, heroic sacrifices. They say he’s the most beautiful creature in the world, made of moonlight.
The man has a fine basket of offerings, overflowing with fruits and breads, silks and books. “You can call me Vitya, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you,” Yuuri says, stomach twisting with inferiority. “I’m Yuuri.”
“Yuuri.” Vitya peers at Yuuri’s beat-up basket. “What have you brought?”
“It’s not much,” Yuuri says softly, because it truly isn’t. He shows the items: dried flowers, rice, books, incense. “I thought that maybe, since the spirit can’t leave the lake, he might want something from farther away.”
He wasn’t brave enough or wealthy enough to get anything more exotic than that.
“I think it will work out,” Vitya agrees charitably. “What are you going to ask for?”
Quite a personal question. Vitya’s eyes are a shocking blue—have they always been so blue?—and Yuuri finds himself staring into them like a frozen deer.
“Well, I was born with a curse. I’m looking to break it.”
Since when is he so trusting? The urge to please him is overpowering. Yuuri continues, “I was cursed at birth to have a glass heart, destined to shatter. I am not brave or strong, and I must break it if I hope to go anywhere in life.”
A bit of sunlight breaks through the clouds—or it must, at any rate—and Vitya’s hair glows like spun silver for a moment. “A glass heart? I’ve never heard of that before.”
“Neither has anyone I’ve asked.” The fae are a last resort.
Vitya stands up suddenly. “All right, I’ll help you.”
“You don’t have to, I’m sure you’re here on your own quest, after all,” Yuuri says quickly. He stands as well.
“But I want to,” Vitya says. “You’re cute.”
“There’s no need to tease me,” Yuuri says, stern. He backs up a few paces.
“Here, how about we bargain. Give me the flowers in your basket and I’ll help you find the door,” Vitya says. “Won’t it be easier with two sets of eyes?”
Still caught in that agreeable sort of trance, he hands over the bundle of dried lavender.
Vitya takes the flowers and Yuuri’s hand. “Hold on tight, okay?”
Yuuri feels himself blush, caught and confused. Vitya’s hand is soft and slightly chilled against his calloused one, as they walk along the sparse path. In only a few minutes they come across it—a door in the bare air, edged in light, ominous and beautiful. Vitya tugs him through before he can lose his courage, and Yuuri finds himself holding his breath.
There’s a change in the air when they enter the other world, a tickling vitality in the sunshine.
From the pure blue of the sky to the trees, flowers, and grasses—everything is perfectly formed, out of a storybook. There’s not a wilted blade of grass or a leaf with a browned edge. Yuuri feels even filthier than normal in comparison, shamefully mortal, intruding in the sharp and ethereal beauty of the landscape. A giant, pristine lake sits in the center, a jewel-like centerpiece. It makes Yuuri immediately unsettled, and he has to stare at it for a time to determine why.
No waves, no ripples. The lake is mirror-smooth.
Every warning Yuuri has ever heard about the fae comes to the forefront of his mind. His sister would be furious with him for even attempting this foolishness.
How had Vitya been able to find the border so easily? Yuuri turns and opens his mouth to remind him to be polite, tell only truths, and keep his name private—but his guide is nowhere to be seen. Yuuri’s hand is empty.
He looks for him for a time, peering behind perfect trees and down flower-studded paths, but Vitya is gone, just as the bare mountainside itself is gone, blinked out of existence.
All paths lead to the great, still lake, so Yuuri walks up to its shining shore.
Between one moment and the next a figure appears before him. Tall, broad, lithely muscled and very nearly naked, the fae walks on water to the shore, confident and smiling. His hair is long and smooth, a fall of silver that shines in the light all the way to his hips, and on his head is a crown of purple flowers. That crown and a patch of leaves at his pelvis make up his full outfit, the rest of him being flawless, glowing skin.
He holds out his hand. “Welcome, human.”
Yuuri looks up into his bright blue eyes, and feels shock wash over him. Still, respect is due when you’re in someone else’s domain. Yuuri pulls into a formal bow. “Greetings, Bright One.”
The man steps closer, until he’s within touching distance of Yuuri. From his bent position he can see the way the grass springs back instantly under each of the fae’s footsteps. “Rise. What is your name?”
Those singular blue eyes only mean one thing. The damage has already been done and any attempts to dodge it are useless. “Yuuri.”
“Yuuri,” Vitya repeats, voice warm. Pleased. “There are not many as foolish as you, to give their real name. Or perhaps it’s bravery? Whatever it is, it’s refreshing.”
Yuuri shifts, uncomfortable. “Since we met earlier, it seemed only fair, Vitya.”
Vitya laughs. “Impressive! What gave me away?”
“You’re far too beautiful to be human,” Yuuri says, looking down at his dirty shoes, “even with a disguise. Your eyes, and— you’re, ah, wearing my flowers.”
Vitya pats his floral crown, smiling. The lavender is no longer dry, magically restored to freshness. “That I am.”
Yuuri gets out his small basket of offerings, laying them out on the smooth stone: a small bag of rice, all the way from his home, two books, one of poetry and one filled with different types of flowers, and a box of incense.
He also sets down a shallow bowl and a knife. He’s about to cut his hand for the offering of blood when he’s stopped by Vitya’s hand.
“No need for that,” Vitya smiles. “There are other, much less messy ways.”
Yuuri puts his knife away and watches as Vitya looks over the offerings. The bag of rice he holds up, shifting it, fascinated. The books, by far his most costly offering, are flipped through carefully. Yuuri isn’t sure if the fae can read human language like they can speak it, but perhaps the drawings will be a novelty of their own. His incense is picked up and met with a frown.
“You burn it,” Yuuri explains, “it makes a sweet smoke.”
What use do the fae have for incense? Yuuri regrets his foolish choice of gift. Viktor sets it down in a much more thoughtful manner.
“I accept your offering.” Vitya says. “Now for the matter of the blood.”
Fae move fast when they want to. In a few steps, Vitya is right in front of him, leaning over and cupping Yuuri’s cheeks with his broad hands. They’re smooth, like a child’s; no hint of hard work. He presses his forehead to Yuuri’s own, and closes his eyes, silver lashes up close. Yuuri closes his eyes too and tries to calm his fragile heart, beating too loud and too fast.
When Vitya pulls away, Yuuri’s halfway into a panic, but he stands still.
“A curse,” Vitya echoes, recalling their conversation on the mountainside. “And a glass heart?”
“Yes,” Yuuri confirms. “Do you know how to break it?”
Vitya is still very close. “Hmmm. We’ll have to run some tests. Let’s see what we can do, okay, Yuuri?”
When Vitya says his name it’s like a different word entirely, reduced to its essence. A true name is a key to a soul. He feels naked.
“Anything I have to do.” Yuuri breathes in deeply, steadying himself.
Vitya taps him on the nose. “First, let’s have you chop some wood!”
Manual labor!? “What?”
“Would you prefer the blood?”
Viktor has the human chop three of the smaller trees, until he’s too exhausted to move. It can be fun, giving supplicants tasks, and he’s always been good at thinking of inventive ones. He looks at Yuuri, shirt off and glistening with sweat, and is appreciative of his fine form and unsatisfied, at the same time.
Something about this mortal calls to him in a way he hasn’t felt in centuries. Enough to make him leave his lake and personally guide him in.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Viktor asks. Yuuri is slumped down by the stump of a tree, breathing hard. Try as he might, Viktor can see no curse on him.
“I think I’ve already broken enough rules,” Yuuri pants, “so I shouldn’t be eating fairy food too.”
“Smart!” Viktor materializes a glass, filled with pure ice water. “But pointless, since I already have your name. Have a drink.”
Yuuri shrugs, a bit of “what do I have to lose?”, and accepts the glass. Viktor watches his throat move as he swallows. What is it about this human that has him so taken?
“What do you need the wood for, anyway?” Yuuri asks, squinting up at him. “I can’t imagine you lighting a fire.”
“Brave words for someone with a glass heart,” Viktor says. He’s rarely been questioned,Viktor feels like he himself has just had a cool drink of water. “But I’ll tell you, because you did such a good job: nothing.”
Yuuri wipes the sweat from his brow. “Nothing?”
“The wood doesn’t matter,” Viktor says. “I just needed to see your fortitude. It’s an important part of a heart, you know.”
It’s meant to be a compliment. For a human, Yuuri’s stamina is ridiculous.
Instead, Yuuri looks down. “I suppose I’m just too stubborn to give up.”
Viktor materializes a soft cloth and hands it over, watching too intently as Yuuri cleans himself up and puts his shirt back on.
“Did that help you learn what to do about my curse?” Yuuri asks.
Viktor frowns. “Don’t push it, human. That’s only one of many trails. These things don’t come easy.”
Yuuri bows, a graceful dip. “My apologies, Bright One.”
“Now I’ll need to see your fire,” Viktor says. The wind in his clearing accommodates him, blowing in just the right way at the most dramatic time. His hair fans out behind him in a wave. “Another very important part of a heart. Tell me: what is your passion? What do you burn for in life?”
Yuuri takes a moment to think, turning it over in his mind. His cheeks are still flush with exertion, and it’s charming. When he starts to speak, it is slow. “I haven’t had time for things like that, not in years, but when I was a child, I suppose I loved to dance.”
“Wonderful!” Viktor says, clapping. “It’s been so long since I had a dance partner.”
A dancer. There’s no way a human could ever be on Viktor’s level, but perhaps this might be a nice diversion. Has he ever had a human dancer visit? No, never.
Before Yuuri can react, Viktor is using his magic to make the clearing around the lake bigger. A swirl of sparkles spreads out from his hands, and floral lanterns spring up along the edges. It’s nearing sunset anyway.
“Anyone dancing with me needs to be properly attired,” Viktor says. He summons a deep blue outfit for Yuuri, sleek and heavily embellished, and gestures for him to put it on. Once the dance floor is set and Yuuri is dressed in silk, Viktor summons him a small crown of purple flowers. It’s aesthetics, really, nothing more; everything is more beautiful this way.
Viktor bows and holds out his hand. “Lead me away, Yuuri.”
Dangerous, dangerous. Viktor can do wonderful and horrible things with that knowledge: Yuuri. It sounds sweet.
There’s no music, but he can feel it between them as they dance. It takes a bit for Yuuri to warm up, but when he does, his unusual grace shines through. To Viktor’s delight, he’s just as comfortable leading as he is following. They spin and dance until the sky is dark and dappled with stars.
Try as he might, Viktor can’t see a hint of curse in this man’s soul, or any magic at all that would explain his grace that so exceeds a human’s. Yuuri should be too tired to move this well, after chopping wood in the hot sun, but he isn’t and he even looks happy, too.
When the moon is high in the sky and even Viktor himself is starting to feel fatigued, he draws their dance to a stop.
Yuuri looks up at him from his place in Viktor’s arms. “Was that enough passion for you?”
A rarity, Viktor doesn’t have something to say.
Viktor lets go of Yuuri’s waist. “That should do nicely. Only one test remains, the most important element of the heart, in fact. Love.”
It’s Yuuri’s turn to be flustered. “Love!?”
“Love,” Viktor repeats. “It’s imperative that you tell me about your love life, Yuuri.”
“Love life?” Yuuri looks down at his feet. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t have a love life. You must know that.”
On the summer solstice each year, the red string of fate is visible to humans. Most of human tragedy relates to these strings, and many of Viktor’s visitors are there to petition him for something about their soulmate. Tragic, all of it.
Fae can see the red strings at all times. Yuuri’s hand is bare. No perfect partner waits for him.
Yuuri must catch his gaze, because he shifts so his hands are hidden behind his back. It makes Viktor sad in a way he doesn’t know how to process. What is wrong with me, he thinks.
“I know some humans are obsessed with their intended, but not all.” Viktor tilts his head. Even without a fated partner, Yuuri is beautiful and interesting, surely other humans must be able to see.
“I’m the only person in our village without one,” Yuuri says, matter-of-fact. “It’s all right.”
Ah. Viktor backtracks. “Love doesn’t have to just mean your soulmate. Humans have dalliances all the time.”
“I don’t,” Yuuri says. His words ring true to Viktor’s ears.
How sad. “Like you, I’m not bound by a red string to a soulmate. That hasn’t stopped me from having lovers, over time.”
Yuuri’s shoulders tense. “I’m not okay with that. If I’m meant to be alone, I’m meant to be alone, not stealing another’s soulmate.”
Relationships always destined to be impermanent. Viktor doesn’t have them anymore, hasn’t for a long time. Viktor feels his age, the weight of centuries. He’s tired. This isn’t fun, suddenly, not anymore.
Viktor claps once and the floral lanterns extinguish, leaving them with only starlight above. “Well then, I think I have enough to understand your heart.”
“You do?”
“I do.” Viktor leans in and cups Yuuri’s soft cheeks. “Let me break the illusion you toil under. Dear Yuuri, there is no curse.”
Yuuri’s mortal heart is strong and steady, uncorrupted. It glows brightly to Viktor’s eyes, unblemished.
“That can’t be true!” Yuuri insists. His hand curls over his own heart. “I have felt the curse my entire life, this glass heart. Sometimes—sometimes I’m so filled with fear that I cannot speak, for no good reason at all.”
“All humans fear, some more than others,” Viktor says. “But wasn’t it you who climbed this mountain by yourself? Who told me your name? Who completed my test of heart? If it was glass, it would have shattered. Yuuri, in my view your heart is not weak at all. You know I can’t lie,” Viktor says.
Yuuri hangs his head. “Then this has been a fool’s quest from the start.”
“Perhaps.” Viktor wants to do something, anything, to brighten up Yuuri’s remaining time. “A deal is a deal, and your offering was great. You are owed another favor. Tell me, what other knowledge do you seek?”
Yuuri takes time to think. A few fireflies dot the landscape around them; short flickering lights in a sea of darkness.
“Vitya,” he finally says, and Viktor longs to hear his true name on those lips, “Thank you. If my heart is not glass, but solid and real, then there isn’t anything else I need to know.”
“An offering is an offering, Yuuri. A debt is a debt. You are owed something from me.”
Yuuri bites his own lip, frowning as he thinks. “Then I suppose, I would like to know: are you happy here?”
“That’s your question?” Viktor blinks, taken aback. No one has ever asked. “It may be hard for a human to understand, but I am not sad and I am not happy here. I just exist, in this place, as always.”
“I thought so,” Yuuri says. “Can I ask another question?”
“I will stop you if it is too much.”
Yuuri has brown eyes and a steady gaze. “I heard you like gifts from far away, and always wondered why you couldn’t just get them yourself. If you could, would you like to come with me back to my home by the sea?”
Foolish and sweet. Viktor laughs, aching. “Yes, very much so, if that were a possible thing. Alas, it is here I am bound. You may have one more question.”
This final question takes so long that Viktor wonders if he’s going to ask it at all. “How can I free you?”
Viktor’s breath catches in his throat. “All the knowledge and magic I have, and that’s your question? Something from a fairytale?”
“That’s what I want to know.” Stubbornness. Strength. Yuuri is like a wide river: calm–even clear–on the surface, but a foolish person will get caught in the strong currents and never see the shore again. Viktor checks again, straining with his magic, but Yuuri is still just a mortal.
“Why?” A hairline crack forms in the ice around his heart, fracturing the stillness.
Yuuri’s voice goes softer, like he’s telling a secret. He shifts his weight from foot to foot. “I don’t… connect with people easily. And I know there’s no one meant for me in this world. You’re the same, right?”
Despite everything, they are the same. Viktor can only nod.
Yuuri nods too, bolstered by that. “You say that my heart isn’t glass. If that’s the case, I intend to use it. How can I set you free?”
What can it hurt to try, except his own heart? His heart will be hurt regardless. Viktor considers the costs involved, frowning. “It would require a sacrifice equal to my immortality. I’m not sure there’s anything you alone could do.”
“Oh.” Yuuri’s shoulders curl in. A cute furrow forms between his dark brows when he thinks. Now is not the time to be charmed, but he is. “Eternal life… is it really worth so much?”
An easy answer. “Humans rarely ask me for anything else. Life and love are the most important by far. Half the humans that petition me want their beloved back from the dead, and the rest seek help finding love itself.”
Yuuri bites his chapped lip as he weighs Viktor’s words, eyes distant.
“It’s not impossible. Just unlikely. Give me some time to think.” Time is something he’s always had in abundance, but he feels the pressure of it. Yuuri has been here almost a full day, and while fine for now mortals aren’t meant to live here much longer than that.
The stars hang in the sky, distant and timeless as himself. Viktor conjures up a pile of sweet, fresh grasses and gestures for Yuuri to sit, then joins him there, close enough to touch.
There’s no solution to Viktor’s lonesome existence, no more than there’s ever been. It’s like trying to keep water from getting wet; this place is an extentionsion of himself and can’t be separated.
At least he gets a moment with someone kind enough to try.
Sunset on the solstice. An important day. It’s one of Yuuri’s earliest memories: the sun just starting to kiss the horizon, his hand in his mother’s larger one. When the sun hit just right he could see the red strings, more vivid than anything else. One connected his mother to his father, barely travelling a few feet between them, while the one on Mari’s hand stretched off into the distance towards the mountains.
The village gathered together on this day and everyone followed their strings. For some, their strings are faded: a soulmate no longer in this world. Many young children have only a faint impression on their hands: a suggestion of a partner not yet born.
This day, Yuuri was finally old enough to understand what it meant for his hand to be bare. It’s also the last solstice he celebrated, instead choosing to pass the time alone and avoid the overbearing pity from those around him who knew.
It’s probably what drove his friend Yuuko to work so hard to help him. With her strong magic, she was able to scry into his future and search for a way to break his curse, so he’d only be left with one great misfortune instead of two.
It’s on her direction he came to this mountain, to Vitya.
Yuuri takes a deep lungul of the mountain air, then another. He’s been told all his life that his heart is glass, but if that isn’t true, what else isn’t?
“Is an endless life really worth all that much?” Yuuri repeats, feeling the edges of something form.
Vitya turns to face him, profile beautiful in starlight.
“If it doesn’t… if there isn’t an end, does it have any meaning at all?”
The edges of Vitya’s eyes crinkle. “Philosophy? You’re full of surprises, as always.”
Something settles in Yuuri’s heart. “Life and love, you said. Those are the most important things. But if you can’t die, are you really alive? If you’re trapped here alone, do you have love?”
“Are you planning on debating the universe?” Vitya holds his hand out, palm up. “My hand is as bare as yours, my Yuuri.”
“I don’t think I have to debate the universe,” Yuuri says, “the only person I’m making a deal with is you. So, do you think eternal life is worth that much?”
Vitya’s blue gaze pins Yuuri in place. “I suppose,” he says slowly, “that an endless, empty life is not worth very much at all.”
“Then how about an exchange?” Yuuri kneels down before Vitya. “Love for life? You cut your existence to that of a mortal, and in exchange,” the blush takes over Yuuri’s cheeks at his own boldness, “I will take you home and devote to you all of my love.”
Vitya leans forward until their foreheads are touching. “All of your love? For the rest of your mortal days, and mine? If I sacrifice my eternity?”
Yuuri’s stomach sinks, doubts rearing up inside. How unbelievable of him to offer, how insulting to this perfect being–
Vitya kisses him. His lips are soft and warm. Yuuri shuts his eyes in shock, so he misses the carpet of moonflowers that bursts into bloom around them, releasing their delicate fragrance into the night.
“I accept.” Vitya says, when he finally pulls away.
“You do?” Yuuri blinks, gobsmacked by the kiss and the victory.
Vitya runs his fingers through the hair at the base of Yuuri’s skull, sweet and possessive. “I do. But there’s one thing you should know first.”
Yuuri puts his arms around Vitya’s muscled shoulders. “There is?”
“My true name, since I already know yours. It’s Viktor.”
“Viktor,” Yuuri tries, smiling. “I love it.”
Viktor smiles back. “Now take me home.”
“And where did you say you found him again?” Mari asks, leaning in the doorframe of the kitchen.
Even stripped of his magic and immortality, Viktor is stunning. Now that reality applies to him, he will occasionally get a smudge of dirt on his perfect cheek or have a flyaway hair, but these things only serve to soften him, make him more real.
“He found me on a hike through the mountains,” Viktor says, “by a lake. Very romantic.”
Yuuri coughs.
“All right,” Mari says. She raises her eyebrows at Yuuri in a very pointed way but lets it pass.
It took quite a while to return to Yuuri’s home, and there were many hurdles in the way, the first of which being that Viktor didn’t have any clothes. Or shoes. Or money, for that matter. Yuuri had spent what he could to get Viktor ready for travel and feed them both on the journey. Out of necessity, Viktor had ended up meeting Yuuri’s family while wearing some of Yuuri’s spare clothes that happened to be a few sizes too small.
That, and their held hands, had been all the Katsukis needed to see to understand. Viktor was folded into their lives seamlessly.
“Do you need anything from the market today?” Viktor asks, swiftly changing the subject.
Vendors tended to lose their train of thought when dealing with Viktor’s striking beauty, and he used that to his advantage ruthlessly to negotiate the best prices.
“Not today,” Mari says, “it’s the solstice, so everyone will have closed up early.”
It’s a day Yuuri always spends alone; a sore spot. But he promised to give Viktor all his love, and knows how much he enjoys novelty. Plus, it won’t be so bad this year, with someone to hold his hand. “We should go, I think you’ll like it.”
“Are you sure you weren’t replaced with a doppleganger while you were on that mountain?” Mari asks. “Not complaining.”
It is nice to have someone to hold his hand, as the sun dips lower and lower in the sky. Yuuko and Takeshi are there, and their three girls, all of them much bigger and more energetic than Yuuri expects them to be. They chat together, an easy conversation that Viktor blends into just as well.
It’s really a sight, seeing the red strings pop into existence the moment the sun kisses the horizon. Everywhere the golden light touches, human connection is made visible, the machinations of fate. For the first time he can really appreciate them for what they are without overwhelming jealousy.
Viktor notices first. “Yuuri!”
On his finger sits a bow, made up of a twisting cable of red with jets of gold arcing through it. By far the brightest and most vibrant red string he’s ever seen connects him and Viktor. He stares in shock until his vision fills with tears and it blurs. His glass heart, overflowing with happiness.
Viktor pulls him close, as they press their hands palm-to-palm. His family hears the commotion and comes over, and the joy of their discovery ripples out.
“Viktor,” he sobs, useless with emotion, “I told you, right?”
He can’t see Viktor’s face but can feel his emotion too, from the way he shudders. “That you did, my Yuuri.”
Yuuri wipes his face furiously, then looks up into Viktor’s eyes. “All my love, all my life.”
“All my love, all my life,” Viktor echos.