Victor was being stubborn, and he knew that.
The harsh yet somehow gentle wind whipped the stubborn hairs from inside of his scarf. His soft breaths bellowed out in the air like white smoke bleeding from the icy ground. Victor only had a thin trench coat sweeping around his sides and pants that only touched the tips of his ankles. His lips probably were light pale blue by now. He's surprised that they weren't quivering with how cold it was.
If he kept this up, Victor might get sick.
Victor way be Russian, but he's still human after all.
Sadly, human.
He tilted his head up, looking at the moving snow clouds, dropping small flakes into ground. Victor would admire the view if it wasn't so damn depressing and nostalgic.
Victor should apologize for his outburst at the rink, he should stop being such a whiny ungrateful brat. Victor should be the perfect student Yakov said he would be. Victor shouldn't be such a disappointment.
Victor should be crying but the tears kept freezing against his face, leaving nothing but his cold empty body wrenching every second or so.
Empty.
That's what he felt.
Victor stood at the frozen shore, looking down at the deep blues below. How pitiful he must look, a frail wimpy child shaking in the St. Petersburg cold. Good thing o nobody's there to pity him in this storm.
Makkachin barked, wagging his tail with glee. Her curly head looked back at his owner, half away across the shore. She padded a little closer to Victor's still frame, barking once more.
His heart nearly broke at the sight of her the first time they met on the streets. She was ungroomed, covered in dirt. Snow gathered in her unruly curls and sad whimpers emerging from her wet muzzle. Makkachin was much better now, her ribs weren't protruding from her stomach, she actually looked clean.
Victor remembers every detail of their meeting, the shivering, the grooming, the naming. Victor remembers the first night they spent together, hugging one another on a stormy day.
The poor thing was dying out there in the winter, and Victor wasn't just going leave it. Or maybe he should've just turned the other cheek. Makkachin was a poodle after all, an expensive breed. He's sure somebody would've took him home.
Stupid Yakov, Stupid Victor.
He squatted down, cooing the dog over. Makkachin padded over to Victor's call, nudging into his palm. She felt much warmer then his cold, lifeless hands. She felt much more perfect then Victor ever would.
He buried his face in the chocolaty curls, inhaling her scent. It smelt like the lavender shampoo Victor used on her a few weeks back. He let a small smile.
A buzz interrupted his thoughts, making him jolt forward in surprise. Victor pulled away from her for a moment to dig in his pockets for his phone.
Letting out a sigh when he finally pulled it out, he quickly smashing down the answer button.
"Hel-
"Victor."
He gulped at the harsh voice practically rattling down the device, shivering down his spine.
"Victor, come back to your apartment," Yakov made it clear that there was no question to his command, "Bring the mutt with you."
Victor widened his eyes, switching his gaze towards Makkachin leaning next to him.
Yakov was going take him to the pound, he just knew it. Yakov hated animals, he shouldn't even have a dog in that dumb apartment. Victor probably should've gave her up right then and there. Mama would be angry if he threw his career and coach for a dog. She would've been pissed.
Victor instead did something different.
He snapped.
"No."
"What?"
"You heard me no," Victor felt the dam snap open with every single word hissing in his ear even worse then the howling wind, "I'm not giving up Makkachin. "No way in hell."
"Vitya-"
"Yakov, no. Just no. I'm not abandoning her at some pound the next block over. I know what happens the dogs there that never get claimed soon enough, I'm not a naive child. I'm 15 years old Yakov, I know what will happen," Victor squeezed almost painfully into Makkachin's coat, "I'm not leaving her on the streets again ether. You can't make me"
Victor took a shaky breath.
"She- She's such a nice dog Yakov, please. She'll die outside. I can't abandon her. I can't. She reminds so much of-" Victor trailed off, he knew his voices cracked several times getting out the sentence, "Please."
Victor knew he sounded immature but he could give less of a crap right now.
"Victor I..." Yakov let out a groan. Victor practically saw his hand coming up to his brows to pinch them, "You're going to be the death of me."
Victor raised his eyes a little bit at that, surprised at his tone of voice. He was ready to fight for Makachin's life right there and then but it seemed like the battle was over before it even began.
"I talked to the landlord about her, she's willing to make an deal with us. Makkachan- or whatever you named that dog can stay as long as you give her daughter skating lessons as long as she stays," Victor felt himself gasp, groping Makkachin closer to his body, "You can, right?"
"Yes, yes, of course," He couldn't help but to sputter, "Will she actually stay with us? In the apartment?!"
Yakov sighed, "Yes, of course."
Victor smiled, eyes gleaming. He almost squealed in excitement. Victor pulled away from the phone to look at Makkachin's face head on.
"Did you hear that girl? You can come home with me!" Makkachin probably didn't understand a word he just said but the excited tint to his tone made her wag her tail even quicker.
Victor laughed, he felt his face flush. Victor muffled his giggles of excitement into her pelt like a child would into their pillow.
The wind didn't feel as forceful as it did, the ice felt less cold as it did. He almost saw a small leak of sunlight dip from the clouds onto the shivery lands. Victor could stop squealing to admire the gorgeous almost painting like scene with his own eyes if he wasn't so damn happy.
His happiness however, was stopped by a loud, wet, sneeze shaking his entire body.
"Victor?? Are you sick? Wait, where even are you?"
Victor wiped his snotty nose with his the back of sleeve, not caring how unsanitary it was.
"I'm at the beach by our apartment," Is all Victor replied before standing back up, Makkachin dancing around his legs.
"For a whole hour? You could've died out there!"
Victor rubbed his gloved hands together, generating as much warmth as possible. He leaned his ear into the phone with his shoulder while stretching his legs a bit. Victor finally took it out from the cranny in his neck.
"I know, Yakov, I know."
Victor spoke again before he could reply to his remark.
"Now are you gonna pick me up or are you going to leave Russia's future skating champion to die because of hypothermia?"
