M.O.N.E.Y • viktuuri ✔️

61.| cocaine

"chris?" victor asked uneasily.

"what?"

"have..." victor couldn't find the right words, and slapped himself in the gave to wake himself up.

"have i what?"

"have you got a problem with yuri?" victor asked bluntly, lighting up a cigarette and taking a long, long drag.

"i-i...what? what are you talking about, victor?"

"i don't know, chris, it's just," victor breathed out, smoke drifting out of the window to join the spattering grey rain. "you just don't want to talk about him...like that time in the hospital...when i said about him living with me...you thought it wasn't a great idea...i don't know, it's just as if you're...uncomfortable with him or something..."

"victor, i - "

"is it because he was a prostitute?" victor demanded suddenly, and felt anger take control once again. "because if it is, chris, then i swear i'll fucking - "

"no, victor," chris cuts him off. "it's nothing, ok? nothing."

there was a pause, the only sound victor could hear being the rain against the tarmac and a car pulling out of the parking lot behind him.

and with the silence down the other end of the line, victor realised that chris had been acting different ever since he had met yuri, and that there was obviously something that christophe giacometti didn't want to tell him.

"look, just," victor sighed, struggling to get his words out and his hands shaking a little as a result of the cocaine, traces of which were still visible on the dashboard. "chris, if there is something...fuck, my head is killing me...if there is something wrong...you tell me, yeah?"

"yeah," chris replied simply, and victor heard him sigh.

"anyway," victor went on, trying to distract himself from thinking of his yuri in his own grey coat, as the door closed between them and shut him in a room with that man who wore a boss suit and had heavy-looking boots. "why'd you call, chris?"

"just to let you know that jj's got another party next tuesday," chris said, "seeing as barcelona training is starting and the competition is gonna be soon."

"that's it?" victor asked with a dry laugh. "i don't give a fuck about anything like that now, chris. not after what's happened to yuri. fuck."

"you need to be there," chris went on. "just thought i should let you know. lots of press are going to be there, and they'll be - "

"yeah, yeah, i get it," victor said dismissively, sniffing again. "sorry, i'm just fucking stressed right now, chris."

"i know," chris said quietly. "about yuri."

victor rubbed his forehead again, trying to block out the sound of the 1975 and yuri begging celestino to stop.

"look, chris, you can talk to me if something - "

"i've got to go."

"chris - "

"i'll talk to you later."

"chris - "

as soon as the line went dead, victor reached for the half-empty blister pack of aspirin yuri had been using to cope with the withdrawal from heroin, popped out two and swallowed them dry. his mind was racing almost as fast as his heart was beating, due to the stress, the confusion from chris's behaviour and the cocaine.

victor looked up at himself in the car's mirror, and saw that a thin stream of blood was running slowly from his nose. he wiped it away, and fresh blood stained the white shirt that already bore traces of the damage celestino had inflicted on him two days before.

his hands were shaking, smeared in his blood; he hadn't thought of whether that hit would be his last, and now victor wondered if this would be the time it was too much. but he knew it wouldn't be; it wasn't the first time he'd tipped the mark and started to bleed from his nose.

victor wiped away the blood, closed his eyes, and tried to clear his head, and push aside the thoughts of an encounter and the taste of blood in his mouth.

he wasn't going to die; he knew that for sure. he'd just taken a little too much, to get away from the stress.

but there he was, still worried, still stressed, with blood running from his nose and his mind still focused on yuuri katsuki and the bruises on his beautiful body.

victor was starting to doubt cocaine; the drug that had let him forget his father standing in the bathroom with metal scissors, his mother crying, legs damaged from his father pushing him too far on the ice.

and now, in a car park outside a police station, after five years, it was starting to lose its effect - the sugar was becoming tasteless.

victor didn't want to think about losing his escape, and without the scent of bubblegum to comfort him, his mind working overtime and heart thudding in his chest as he thought of his yuri inside that room so close to that man who wore a boss suit, victor topped it the rest of the bag's contents and snorted it then and there.

and then he turned on an encounter by the 1975, the song he had listened to as headlights blinded him on the motorway and yuri slept against the car window in his blood-stained denim jacket, and wondered why it wasn't people like him who had everything and snorted coke just to kill the time who suffered as the angels like yuri katsuki did.