Chasing You (Viktor Krum X Reader)

Chapter 22: I Visit Another Old Friend

Viktor is staring at me like I might be a ghost, so much so that I start to doubt if I'm really here.

"Is everything okay?" I ask him slowly.

"You're here."

"Well, yes, but—"

"I missed you," he says.

"Viktor," I say, "I want to make it very clear that nothing has changed. I just... I was hoping you would be able to help me."

"Nothing has changed?" he asks me. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," I say, brushing ash from my pants, "that I'm still, like, majorly fucked up. I don't want you to think this is me..."

"Coming back," he supplies.

"Yeah."

He swallows and nods his head. "That is fine," he says. "I told you I would give you time, and I will."

I purse my lips and scuff my foot on the floor. "Nice crib," I say. He looks so confused, I want to laugh when I explain, "Nice house, I mean. Crib can mean house."

"Oh," he says.

"Well, uh, you look great," I announce, tucking my hands into my pockets and forcing the world's most awkward smile. No one tells you how hard it's going to be to make small talk with your ex after you fall out of his fireplace like Santa Claus from hell. But he really does look nice. His hair is freshly cut, although it's tousled like he just woke up, and there's a pink flush on his cheeks that makes him look incredibly boyish. He looks ever bigger than I remember, taller and broader.

"Thank you. You look pretty, always," he says.

"So," I say, drawing out the vowel, "the Ballycastle Bats, huh?"

Viktor blinks away some of the surprise that's been on his face since my arrival, as if he's finally understanding why I'm here.

"Yes," he says, shaking his head like it's an etch-and-sketch. Clearing the board. "The tryout."

"That's why I'm here," I say.

"That makes sense," he says. I'm not ignorant of the flash of pain on his face.

So I say what I feel even if making this better temporarily might hurt more later. I say, "I missed you too, Viktor."

***

Viktor hands me a cup of water and sits down diagonal from me, like he's putting as much space as possible between us. He used to sit as close as he could. I furrow my eyebrows and try to hide how it bothers me with a sip of water.

"I mean, obviously, you are good enough for the team," he says. "That is not the concern. The problem is that you have to show off all of your strengths in a very short amount of time. Now, usually, if you were scouted, this wouldn't be so hard, but these people have no idea how well you fly."

I nod along, trying not to watch the way his mouth moves to shape each word.

"I know it is short notice, but the coach took a while to get back to me, you know?"

"Yeah. I really appreciate it. You, uh... you have no idea how much it's actually helped. I feel terrible asking you for any more considering, you know, how I'm still not one hundred percent, but, uh... well, I didn't want to disappoint you, or anyone, really. And I do want to do this, I think. But I know I won't get it right now. I'm out of practice and I'm not confident—not like I used to be. I mean... I don't know if I can get it back, but it feels like a step forward when I've been stuck for a long time. Just trying out... That's progress, I think."