M.O.N.E.Y • viktuuri ✔️

66.| water

"victor," yuri said, ever-so-softly, lying with his face once again against victor's chest so that he could hear his heart beating, one arm up around the back of his neck so that they were so close to each other, "you don't have to tell me anything. i just meant that i wanted to help you, and i - "

"no," victor said, running his hands through yuri's hair because he realised that it made him feel safe, "no, i want to. i want to tell you."

another silence filled the bathroom, and yuri could hear victor's heart start to beat faster in his chest.

"ok," he whispered, kissing victor's cheek. "only if you want to, vitya."

victor smiled at the nickname, and kissed yuri's wet forehead once again. it felt so good to hold him so close to him.

"very pushy, him and my mother," victor started off uneasily. he kept in mind that his yuri was so close to him, so as to remind himself that everything was going to be alright.

yuri started tracing his fingers along victor's collarbone, to show him that he was still there, and that everything was going to be alright.

"always forcing me to train...they were desperate for me to be famous...i mean," victor laughed bitterly, and there was another swish of water as he sat further upright in the bath, "as soon as they saw i liked skating, they had hired a professional couch and everything, which was easy for them seeing as my father was so fucking rich - "

victor took a breath to calm himself down, and focused on the feel of yuri's soft fingers on his wet skin.

" - forced me to train, day and night, hours and hours of training. for god'a sake, i was only, what, ten? nine? and then they took me out of school, starting teaching me from him between practice so that we could fit in more hours of training. pushed me into competitions. jesus, they put me under so much stress for my first competition that i could barely walk out there, my legs were shaking so much."

victor takes another long breath, and yuri presses his lips against victor's chest.

"because my father had so much fucking money, he had "connections," and they had me up in international competitions thanks to multiple different coaches. if i didn't work hard enough or came second, not first, me father wouldn't hit me or anything but he would shout."

there was another pause, with only water dripping off of the side of the bath to provide any sound.

"god, yuri, i was scared of him."

victor pushed the hair back from his face, and closed his bright blue eyes momentarily.

"the cameras couldn't get enough of me - this "child star" who was "so good-looking" and all that shit. and my parents lapped it up, sent me in for interviews, paid the newspaper editors, had me out on television. i was this national star-figure by the time i was fucking thirteen. jesus christ, yuri. all i wanted to do was go to my friend's house and watch this gangster movie he had, whilst all these interviewers and paparazzi were outside our house day in, day out."

victor laughed weakly, and sighed.

"i grew used to the stress of having to come first, and that's probably why i'm still stressed now. i don't know, probably. and i know, i got mad at you for no reason, but that's because i'm programmed to be stressed, after all those years of waiting, feeling sick, for the commentators to announce the results."