i love this too much ^
@TheDerpyUnicornGamez
"chris, why do i even need to be there? fuck."
victor groaned, and ran a hand through his hair in irritation. yuri pulled his grey sweater over his head, and it hung down over his jeans so that one shoulder was exposed to the grey winter light coming in from the open bedroom window.
"victor," chris started off with a sigh, "look, with barcelona coming up - "
"fuck it," victor shot back, making yuri jump. he sighed himself, before going over and kissing yuri on the top of his head, rubbing at his bare shoulder.
"victor?" chris asked, after a pause, and victor shook his head to himself.
"sorry, chris. sorry. just...stressed, you know?"
"yeah," chris laughed tiredly. "yeah, i fucking know alright. my legs are killing me."
victor laughed, rubbing his eyes with his hands as he sat down on the bed as yuri picked up his lemon yellow book from the dresser and sat down on the wide window ledge of victor's bedroom. victor smiled at him, without yuri noticing, and watched how the light lit up his yuri's face.
"same here, chris," victor huffed, remembering that it was his turn to say something, especially since he felt bad about snapping at chris, in the same way he had snapped at yuri before.
god, he was stressed.
"look," chris started off once more, and victor could hear that he got up from the sofa he was presumably sitting on. "you need to come tonight, alright? i don't want to either, actually. i'm too goddamn tired from practicing day after day. it's just...you want good press for barcelona, don't you? and connections, victor. this is the last party before the competition, ok? jesus, victor we've been to enough competitions together to know how this goes."
victor sighed once more, and watched at yuri turned a page, biting at the corner of his lip in concentration like victor had seen him do when he cooked him katsudon that night.
"yeah," he said, getting up from the bed once more and stretching the left side of his upper body. "yeah, i know."
"you can bring yuri," chris added, after a slight pause. "if you want to."
victor looked over at the boy with soft, dark, dark hair sitting on the window ledge in mom jeans and legs drawn to his chest, one shoulder exposed by his oversized woollen sweater, before turning back to stretch in the mirror once again.
"i will," he replied, and wondered where the silence down the the other end of the line had come from. "chris?"
"yeah," he replied, a little quieter. "yeah, i'm still here."
"what's wrong?" victor asked, looking over at yuri once again and watching his fiddle with one corner of the page as he read, folding it and smoothing it down again. "you ok?"
"just tired," came chris's reply.
"oh."
"i'll see you later on tonight, then," chris said, before victor told him to wait a minute.
"is jj going to be there?"
chris paused, and victor saw yuri look up from his lemon yellow book, and over at victor.
"i...um...well, yes, victor...i guess so - "
"well tell him to stay the fuck away from me," victor said fiercely. "and yuri."
chris said he would try, before victor nodded and hung up the phone. victor looked over at yuri, on the window ledge, looking at victor anxiously.
"what if we died right here, right now?"
"did you take your pills?" victor said to yuri, who nodded after a moment's hesitation. victor looked down at newly-replaced bandages on yuri's forearms, which he had fixed over the slices across his soft skin only minutes before.
"promise me you'll never hurt yourself again, baby."
"good," victor muttered, managing to give yuri a smile although his head was all over the place; filled with razor blades, prozac, bubblegum, lilac watercolours and standing on the podium with blinding lights in his eyes six years ago.
you're going to be alright.
you're going to be alright, victor.
yuri is going to be alright, victor.
"when do you leave to go practice?" yuri asked, setting down his book and messing with the loose threads of his jeans. when he moved his arms, a sliver of bare, soft skin was exposed from beneath the grey wool and loose black sleeveless shirt underneath, and victor could see the hint of the damage that a man in a boss suit had done to his yuri.
at least it was starting to heal.
"should probably leave now," victor sighed - he'd put it off long enough. the fact of the matter was, he had put his body under so much strain the past few days of practice, he was scared of going back to push himself further.
because he knew that that was exactly what he was going to do - push himself too hard.
"victor," yuri started off, when victor grabbed his bag and headed for the bedroom door. he stood up, and leant back against the wall, his sweater falling further down the same arm and nudging it back to cover a little more of his soft skin. "what was chris saying? something...about jj?"
victor tapped his nails against the doorpost, and shook his head, rolling his eyes.
"it's nothing, don't worry. just some party we're going to tonight."
"we?" yuuri asked, getting anxious again. victor looked at him with a soft smile, and made his way over to rib big of yuri's arms.
"nothing is going to happen there," victor said soothingly. "nothing bad, ok? jj isn't going to bother you, baby, i promise, if that's what you're worried about - "
"it's..." yuri started to say, biting at his bottom lip. victor tilted yuri's head up, hand under his chin gently, so he'd stop biting at the cut on his lip.
"what is it?"
"i..." yuri tried to say, pulling down at the sleeves of his sweater so that the same shoulder fell down further once again. "i'm just worried...what people will say - "
"what do you mean?" victor asked, fingers brushing over yuri's bare shoulder. yuri sighed.
"what people will say if the victor nikiforov turns up at some party - with the media everywhere - with someone like me - "
"what do you mean?" victor repeated, although more demandingly this time. yuri took a breath.
"you know what people will say," he whispered, messing with his hair. "i've been to countless parties like these...and people will know who i am, what i'm there for - "
"but you don't do that anymore," victor cut in, almost angrily. "and besides, that motherfucker made you go. he made you sell yourself - "
victor stopped himself when he saw yuri wince at the bluntness of his words. he sighed again and kissed the top of yuri's head of soft, dark, dark hair.
"come with me, won't you?" he said quietly. "i don't want to go there either, yuri."
"then why do we have to?" yuri murmured back, inches away from victor's lips.
"it's just," victor started, "it's good before a competition to make connections, and to give the media something to say, i guess. i don't know, yuri, it's just what you do. we won't stay long. promise."
yuri sighed again.
"why are you skating again, vitya?" he asked softly, running his fingers across victor's cheek, and up to the healing cut two heavy rings had left above his eye.
"for my mother," victor sighed, kissing yuri's hands. "she...she just wants to see me skate...one more time...she hasn't been the same since i left..."
yuri nodded, and victor looked at him with bright blue eyes.
"you'll come with me, baby boy?" he muttered, and yuri thought of white powder on bathroom sinks and guest bedroom chests.
"you won't get high?" he said bluntly, looking straight up at victor, who was taken aback.
"no," he replied, looking over at the pills on the sink in the bathroom that were going to help shift the comedown he was still getting through. "no, i said. i promised, remember?"
yuri nodded slightly, before victor kissed his lips softly, fingers brushed over the cut on yuri's lip and he headed for the door.
"don't hurt yourself," yuri said, before victor was through the doorway, and victor paused; razor blades and bubblegum ran like polaroid pictures being sifted through in his head.
"i won't," he said stiffly, before going down the stairs.
yuri hesitated, thinking of how he had seen victor high as a kite in his car outside the police station only days ago, before slowly picking up his yellow book again, looking down through the window and watching victor walk across the streets to that same car.
•••
don't, victor.
he ran his hands painfully through his hair, so that his nails dragged over his scalp. he tried to breath in deeply, to shake the craving that was so overpowering away, but it only grew stronger.
don't, victor.
he leant back in the driver's seat, trying to fight it off, digging his nails painfully into his palms.
yuri.
think of yuri.
his head was spinning - the headache was threatening to drive him mad, and thoughts of razor blades, bubblegum, boss suits and yellow books drowned out the thoughts of the boy with soft, dark, dark hair.
"what if we died right here, right now? i wouldn't mind."
victor couldn't take it any longer - he couldn't stand thinking of yuri katsuki suffering, slitting the soft skin of his forearms, injecting heroin, being beaten until he cried out and being afraid of what people would say about him; of who he used to be.
"a fucking whore."
victor couldn't take it any longer, and sniffed the white sugar on the dashboard of the car and sent it straight into his bloodstream.
he paused, sniffing hard, running a had under his nose and trying to get his breath back, head spinning, heart rate quickened, and then he felt it start to settle down on him. the guilt.
before his blurred eyes he could see his yuri, sitting in the passenger seat of his car, wearing his blood-stained jacket as streaks of light from headlights flitted across his soft, delicate, bruised face.
victor felt the pain starting to subside, and leant back, closing his eyes, before gripping the steering wheel and starting up the car.
victor.
the houses and buildings blurred past him as the car sped on, and he sniffed hard again, shook his head, and before he knew it he was outside the white house he had bought "just for the hell of it."
starting up the front steps, rubbing the back of his hand under his nose, he thought of yuri sitting on the window sill before he had left, with that yellow book and scent of bubblegum.
"and you won't get high?"
victor pushed open the door, and dropped his sports bag in the ground, rubbing both hands over his face.
"victor?"
victor started down the hall, and found yuri on the grey couch, yellow book by his side, sleeves of his oversized sweeter pulled over his hands.
victor sniffed again, and for a second, the familiar feeling of the anticipation of an overdose ran through his body.
"victor?"
yuri's voice was slighter now, a little apprehensive, as he came round the back of the grey couch and stood inches before victor. victor looked down, away from yuri's chocolate eyes.
yuri swallowed, his chest tight, as he reached up to brush away the white powder from under victor's nose.
"victor," he murmured again, his voice almost inaudible, eyes wide and hurt, wishing that victor would look at him. "you promised."
victor felt it again - that same surge of love that hurt him when he thought of bubblegum, razor blades, boss suits and the 1975.
"baby," he murmured into yuri's soft, dark, dark hair, clinging to the scent of him to numb the pain and guilt and razor blades raging like a sea in the victor nikiforov's head. "i'm sorry, baby - "
"you promised me," yuri said, trying to stop his voice from shaking st the thought of victor overdosing.
"i was stressed, ok?" victor got out, hands shaking as he ran them through his hair. "practice, yuri, fuck, i was stressed - "
"but you said - "
"i know, i know," he said dismissively, unsure of how to act, so angry at himself for shooting up after yuri had begged him not to, and so angry at himself for the hurt he saw in yuri's eyes. "i promised, i know. jesus," he smacked his hand against the wall, so angry at himself but so high he couldn't form the words to express his emotions, "cry me a fucking river, yuri."
yuri's breath caught in his chest.
"oh boo-fucking-hoo. cry me fucking river, katsuki."
yuri could feel his hands starting to shake as he thought of the man in the boss suit he knew all too well, and saw victor lean his forehead against the wall, sighing heavily.
"fuck," he sighed, laughing wearily to himself, before glancing sideways at yuri. "i'm sorry, ok?"
yuri bit at his bottom lip, and victor smacked his hand against the wall once again, making him jump.
"don't fucking do that," he shouted. "it's gonna hurt you, isn't it?"
yuri tried to stop his hands shaking.
"so will cocaine," he responded, trying and failing to stop his voice from cracking. victor laughed again, shook his head once again, and turned to face yuri, leaning back against the wall.
"well," he laughed, "i'm not fucking dead, am i, huh?"
yuri hated to see him like this; he hated it. he didn't like the sound of victor shouting, and before he knew it, he could hear phichit humming from the top of the stairs once again.
"look what you do to me," victor moaned, rubbing his face with his palms. "make me feel like this. because i can't stop thinking of the bruises, or the razor blades - "
yuri's hands covered his forearms, and he bit at his lip once again.
" - or the heroin - "
victor looked up at yuri again, eyes red-rimmed.
"so you can nearly fucking kill yourself shooting up on heroin, huh," victor scoffed, and yuri couldn't breathe. "but i can't shoot up on cocaine?"
yuri could feel his whole body shaking.
"you know how many times i've wanted to do it again?" he replied, voice scarcely there, shaking. "to get away from every fucking thing going around my head? but i didn't, victor, because of - "
"because of me?" victor said, laughing again. "i thought you said i didn't love you, yuri. how can you love me, yuri? i'm a fucking cokehead, and i called you a fucking whore - "
yuri breathed in sharply, and victor slammed his hands against the wall again, making him jump once more.
"victor," he managed to get out, "stop - "
"you know i never meant it," victor seethed, "i was just fucking angry, yuri. seeing you nearly getting fucked by jj leroy made me fucking angry - "
yuri couldn't breathe.
" - and god," victor cried, running both hands through his hair, "i can't stop seeing the look in your eyes, and that feeling i had, god, that fucking, god-awful feeling - "
he slammed his hands against the wall once more, and yuri closed his eyes as if to block it out, hands over his ears, shaking.
"i still get that feeling when i see the bandages on your wrists," victor shouted, turned away from yuri as he slammed his hands over and over again against the wall. "because i'm just like the fucking rest of them - akio, celestino, everyone else - "
yuri.
breathe.
count to three.
yuri fell back against the coffee table and drew his knees to his chest, watching victor hit at the wall with a bang over and over again.
one.
"look what you do to me," victor shouted, turning around to look at yuri down on the ground, back to the table, eyes scrunched shut, humming to himself in the way phichit used to.
two.
and there was that fucking, god-awful feeling.
"fuck," victor screamed, and kicked at the wall before he fell down against the wall, slumping down without the energy to carry on, trying to get his breath back. yuri looked up, eyes wide and frightened, and victor thought about what he had said to him in the ice.
"what if we died right here, right now?"
"god, yuri," victor groaned, head in his hands, the comedown and the fucking, god-awful feeling tearing him apart.
victor felt the anger surge up inside him again, when he saw yuri get up off of the ground, and start to head towards the door.
"what, you can't even look at me?" victor demanded, hurt over what he had done to his yuri.
he wanted to hold him close, breathe in the scent of bubblegum and kiss his soft skin.
but the words wouldn't come, and anger-cocaine-high-emotions took their place.
"why are you doing this to me?" victor said simply, chest tight, hands burning from being hit against the wall, heart thudding in his chest. "i'm not like the rest, baby...i haven't hit you or tried to fuck you - "
"you're mine, katsuki"
"what i said," victor got out, voice shaking, "was fucking true - "
yuri watched him from the doorway, with tears no his eyes and his hands still shaking.
"you drive me crazy with the guilt every night when i see you sleeping, baby, or see the bruises on your body - "
yuri couldn't breathe.
" - but i'm not like the rest of them, am i?" victor growled. "because you nearly got fucked by jj leroy, and because you were a fucking whore, weren't you?"
yuri couldn't breathe.
lilac watercolours.
aftershave-lemon-vanilla.
ice.
the 1975.
cocaine.
heroin.
akio tanaka.
boss suits.
russian lullabies.
"a fucking whore."
money.
chapstick.
soap.
water.
"a fucking whore."
three.
"yuri - " victor started, guilt laced under a russian accent smooth as gossamer.
but before yuri knew what he was doing, he had thrown the glass on the counter nearby across the room, and watched it smash and shatter and fall to the ground in a shower of diamond shards.
diamond.
diamond👄: i'll let you kiss my neck again
diamond👄: if you ever happen to fall in love with me
diamond👄: until then
diamond👄: i'll let you kiss my lips