M.O.N.E.Y • viktuuri ✔️

58.| chapstick

victor wanted to leave him in the bedroom, just shrug his shoulders and walk away as he was so used to doing, with all the money in the world to spend at his fingertips.

but he couldn't let go of the door handle.

running his hands over his face and sighing heavily, wincing at the pain in his wrist, victor opened the door once more and took in the sight of his angel sitting on the creased white sheets, beside a blood-stained denim jacket and decorated with bruises and hickeys and laced with the scent of bubblegum.

god, i love him so.

victor pushed down the anger and the hurt burning in his throat and sat down besides yuri on the bed.

he dared to reach out and touch his hand, and yuri let him lace his fingers with his own. victor looked down, and watched as he began to run his thumb up and down yuri's index finger.

"you really i only want you for sex?" victor echoed, anger replaced with sadness. yuri looked away, and slipped the warmth of his soft skin away from victor's touch.

"i didn't mean it like that - "

"then what did you mean?" victor demanded, voice cracking under tears and anger. yuri looked up at him and gave a small smile.

"how could you love someone like me? a fucking whore. and this isn't self-pity, victor, it's the truth."

yuri's voice broke, and he wiped away tears with the back of his hand, leaving shimmering streaks across his delicate, bruised cheeks.

"people don't love me, they use me. they don't want my lips, they want their use. i've gone past waiting for someone else to love me, alright? because that won't happen. i lost him. i disappointed him. and now countless men have used me in a stranger's bedroom or nightclub bathroom, and not one of them - not one of them - loved, wanted or appreciated me at all."

victor couldn't find the words to say; he opened his mouth, but no sound came out. yuri sniffed hard, and closed his eyes, sighing deeply.

"and the thing with you, victor, as that you did exactly the same. paid me for sex."

victor felt the stitches holding his heart together start to pull, with the thought that his yuri could have been thinking this whole time - through every fucking minute that victor lay awake at night and thought of the feel of his soft dark, dark hair between his fingers - that victor had only wanted him to fuck and be done with.

to throw aside as if he were nothing but a fucking whore.

"yuri - "

"but you were different. you wanted to see me, to talk to me. i even thought that when you kissed me you wanted to, because that's what it felt like. and i started to love you, victor. because i tried to make myself believe that you loved me, wanted me, appreciated me."

"yuri - "

victor couldn't hear his own voice.