Work Text:
IDENTITY OF WORLDWIDE INTERNET SENSATION REVEALED
By Connie Montoya
An anonymous source reached out to us regarding the truth about something the entire world has been pondering over for months: who is the Milkman? The answer might not be what you expect.
NEW YORK CITY — It was a unsurprisingly frigid day in New York City, and I mentally cursed whatever higher power led me to work in a place where 48°F is considered a reasonable temperature in March. On a regular Tuesday I would normally be found indoors, safe within the warm confines of my cubicle. But today was different.
Today, I was going to Starbucks.
As soon as I stepped into the familiar coffee-scented haven, my gaze gravitated towards the nondescript form huddled in the table furthest from the entrance. An air of mystery emitted from the solitary figure who, like me, used layers of winterwear to help stave off the infamous New York chill. The scarves wrapped around their neck obscured most of their face, giving as little to the knowledge of their identity as the minimal email correspondence that led me to this coffee shop in the first place.
The subject of this virtual exchange? “The Milkman (yes, that one). I know who he is”.
Ever since the now culturally significant video of a robbery-gone-wrong emerged the beginning of this year from the black hole that is the Russian internet, the masked man known only as Milkman has been in the forefront of every in-trend millennial's mind. Named after a gift given to the daughter of the robbery victims by the good samaritan, Milkman has achieved what no mere mortal can even comprehend reaching: meme status. A quick Google search of said epithet gives us results regarding not the occupation, but thousands upon thousands of internet-humored jokes and quips, all centered upon the anonymous Russian passerby who has somehow crossed international borders into the hearts of millions.
But as we all know, the internet has a short attention span. It wouldn’t be long before interest in Milkman waned, until nothing remained of his legacy other than a stray reference every so often on a Reddit post and its own article page on KnowYourMeme.com.
That is, until the family from the initial video took to Russian local news and dropped what is essentially a five million ruble (around $90,000 USD) bounty on the masked vigilante’s head.
The search for Milkman’s identity exploded.
Whether it be for the monetary reward or merely for sport, anyone with at least a drop of zealous drive in them has taken the search for Milkman to the extreme. Multiple hashtags concerning the topic continuously trends on Twitter without fail. A forum was quickly established and is still brimming with activity. Those especially dedicated have even travelled to St. Petersburg to investigate the crime scene, said location discovered by committed netizens who pieced together its whereabouts through the low quality camera footage of the video that started it all. Barricades and police surveillance around the corner alley were reportedly set up to dissuade investigators from creating even more ruckus in this affluent part of the Russian state capital.
Nothing like this has ever been seen before. Milkman, whoever he is, has quickly been thrust into internet stardom. Yet he has never stepped up and introduced himself, his radio silence making him seem content in living with knowing just how much he impacted the world through a single good act that was recorded without his knowledge or consent.
Of course, there have been many imposters running about, claiming to be the elusive meme in order the snatch the illustrious prize money. But to date, every high-profile attempt has been thwarted by the most unlikely of suspects: the little girl of the family that is undoubtedly tied to the enigma that is Milkman, the same little girl who had been gifted the milk that is confirmed through the video to have been touched by the bringer of dairy himself. Apparently she is, out of all first-hand witnesses, the one who is best acquainted with the Milkman’s silhouetted figure, and can quickly denounce any imposter with a quick look at what they are wearing (every Milkman hopeful is required to wear the exact outfit he was wearing that night and present himself to the family).
“Get out of my sight,” the little girl had said the moment a Milkman had walked into view of the family’s Facebook live video, “I can’t be bothered with phonies like you. Milkman would never wear those sunglasses. Where did you even get those? Did you just happen to find them on the ground one day and decide it looked legit enough to waste my time?”
With snarky responses like that, it’s no wonder the family has been offered their own reality show, slated to begin airing in Channel One Russia this time next year.
Despite all this, plus the entirety of meme culture looking for him, no one has yet been able to pin Milkman’s identity. And it doesn’t seem like anyone is going to find out anytime soon.
Until now.
“I have no name,” the figure said when I ask for it, “I’m only here for the truth. To spread the truth. The truth everybody deserves.”
Somehow, this didn’t surprise me. “What about the prize money? This isn’t for that?” I asked, intrigued.
A single shake of the head, almost inscrutable from underneath the thick layers of clothing I was beginning to suspect had another purpose than keeping out the cold. “I’m not in it for the money,” they denied. “It’s not about money, but freedom of mind. Of truth. Do you understand?”
I now had a sinking feeling in my gut that this meeting was a waste of time. Through email they specifically stated that I must meet them in person for them to reveal the information they keep. The anonymity of the whole ordeal was what originally piqued my interest, and was now what was forcing me to rethink my choices.
“Yeah, sure,” I said. “So, about Milkman.”
“Of course.” They pulled out a single photograph from the inner pocket of their outermost jacket. “I figured it out by complete accident. This viral tour de force has been plaguing every facet of every crevice of this world since the beginning of this year, so how could I not know what that is? This — complete brainwashing of the general public is impossible to avoid, even someone as steadfast as me was exposed.”
Oh dear. “Well. What have you got?”
They continued, “Let it be forewarned that the so-called Milkman is a public figure, so this might be a bit to take in at first glance.” At this, my skepticism was immediately blown through the roof. “Specifically, they are a reputable athlete, which explains the athleticism seen in the recording. A figure skater, in fact.”
This caught my attention. The one sport I kept up with may be the sport the Milkman competed in? My mind began to go through my mental backlog of Russian male figure skaters. Russia is known for its rich history regarding the sport and its ability to consistently crank out some of the most talented figure skaters in recent memory, so my options were vast.
They placed the photograph face down onto the table. “The beanie. The sunglasses. The surgical mask. These three items are what makes Milkman stand out from those who came before him. How was he wearing such an ugly, neon-patterned beanie? Why was he wearing designer sunglasses at night? What was he doing wearing a surgical mask outside of the hospital? What a strange combination.”
They forgot to mention the rest of his outfit, of which a Reddit thread in /r/Milkman (no kidding, that’s a thing) estimated to be worth well over five thousand dollars. Milkman was, in fact, not running around the streets of St. Petersburg at midnight in nothing but a hat, a mask, and some sunglasses.
“And maybe, because of this fortuitous wardrobe decision, Milkman has become what we now know today.” They run a finger down the glossy finish of the photograph’s back. “No one else in the world has these same three things just hanging around at home, waiting to be worn. I think it’s already common knowledge now that the Milkman beanie is one of a kind?”
It is. The general consensus of the Milkman hunting community agrees that, after countless reverse image searches and snooping around the hat sections of every major department store, the beanie worn in the video is handmade. I confirmed this with them, who merely smiled.
“Well, with that in mind, color me surprised when I found, while looking through some old pictures from college, this.”
They flipped the photograph over. My blood ran cold.
I knew that face.
The picture depicted a group of college students at a library in what seems like a study session, with every member looking up at the camera with a smile. Who immediately caught my eye was not the bespectacled girl most centered and most focussed inframe, but someone a couple students to her left. Not because of the natural attractiveness of his face, and not even because of the out-of-place surgical mask he was wearing, pulled down to his chin to show off a timid yet heart melting grin. But because of what was on his head.
It was the Milkman beanie: color to color, pattern to pattern, stitch to stitch — the beanie this man was wearing and the beanie everyone in the world is clamoring to find is undeniably one in the same.
And that face? That face had been smiling that same smile in my television screen, standing on the podium at the Grand Prix Final in Barcelona three months before.
“The Milkman,” they nonchalantly said, as if they hadn't just thrown my entire world upside down, “is Japanese figure skater Yuuri Katsuki.”
READ THE FULL ARTICLE AT VARIETY.COM
-----
Victor feels numb. His vision blurs from his lack of blinking until his phone screen is nothing but a smear of white.
“What,” he says, “the fuck.”
-----
“Um,” Yuuri says. He walks to where Victor is currently lying on the floor and sits on the arm of their living room sofa. “Normally I’d be more concerned, but I think I know what this is about.”
“Leave me alone,” Victor cries, “leave me alone to die.”
“Can’t do that,” Yuuri tells him, tone dry, “I still have Worlds to train for.”
Victor sniffs and lifts his head from where it was nestled in the crook of his elbow. Yuuri kicks Victor’s hip with his toe until he begrudgingly sits up, his hands gripping the soft threads of his shag rug in white-knuckled terror. “Yuuri, dear, this is — something terrible has happened, oh lord, I don’t know what to do and — what can I do? I thought I was getting out of this scot-free, considering the amount of time that has passed. This is all a horrible misunderstanding, but if I do do something, I’d have to reveal myself to the world, and I cannot fucking do that, holy shit —”
Yuuri stops him with a sock clad foot to the throat. “If we’re gonna have this conversation,” he says, “I’d like for it to be at a position where your face is not eye level with my crotch. Please tell me what’s going on. Sitting next to me, preferably.”
Slumped against Yuuri on their sofa instead of the floor, Victor continues with a contemptuous, “Some journalist in New York published an article on fucking Variety claiming that you—”
“That I’m Milkman. I’m aware of that.”
“Yes! It’s only been out for a day and it already has three hundred comments and I’ve seen it all over Twitter and — wait.” Victor blinks up at him, his sense of security within the confines of his mind greatly threatened. “You...you know?”
Giving him his patent “No I didn’t read your mind I just know things” look, Yuuri hands Victor his phone. On screen is a text exchange with a Phichit who seems just as confused as Victor is.
“I doubt he’s actually going to travel from Thailand to Russia,” Yuuri considers as he takes his phone back, “but I should probably text back. To be safe.”
“How are you so calm about this?” Victor asks, clueless as to how Yuuri is able to keep himself together in the face of what may be the end of both of their careers.
“Because this isn’t that big of a deal?” Yuuri answers, and he begins carding a hand through Victor’s hair. It helps him breathe, a small pleasure he had forgotten to indulge in until Yuuri came back home. “Someone thinks I’m you. Big whoop. The solution to this is simple.”
“Which is?”
Yuuri simply says, “You come out as Milkman.”
Victor freezes in his place, his mind blank. Yuuri notices this and jostles his shoulder, the same shoulder Victor has claimed as his personal headrest, in concern.
“I need to make a couple of phone calls,” Victor decides.
-----
“Why are we back at fucking McDonald’s,” Yuri states more than asks. The entire lot of them are, again, sitting in a booth near the entrance. The act of fitting seven people in a single table is a feat all in itself, but Victor does his best in not focussing on that for now.
“Emergency family meeting?” Mila guesses.
This nearly sends Georgi over the edge. “We’re —” he chokes out, voice thick, “we’re family? ”
“Oh dear,” Lilia says.
Yakov says nothing. But he does glance around the restaurant — surprisingly empty, considering the time — and takes a swig from a flask Victor sees him take out of his inner jacket pocket.
“I’ve gathered you here today,” Victor says when the others have finally settled down, “for a matter of great importance.”
“Is this about Milkman?” Yuri interrupts. “If this is about Milkman, I’m walking the fuck out.” Ever since their last outing to this restaurant, Yuri has done his best to stray from anything regarding Victor’s alter ego. Most likely from embarrassment, Victor surmises, judging from Yuri’s behavior towards him when the truth came out. Contrary to his previous predictions, It took Yuri over a week to be able to look Victor in the eye again.
(“So did you mean it when you said that I was a badass?” Victor asks when he bumps into Yuri in the locker room the day after the McDonald’s Conference.
Yuri is somehow able to trip him without ever turning his face towards his direction. Despite sporting a nasty bruise on his forearm the rest of the day, Victor can’t help but be impressed.)
Yuuri gives him a stern look. After a moment of considering his options, Yuri slouches back in his seat and crosses his arms together, the epitome of “recently scolded problem-child.” Victor gives him a thin-lipped smile before explaining the events of the past hour.
Mila whistles when Victor is finished. “Damn. You could’ve waited until we ordered to drop all of that on us.” She inconspicuously glances behind herself, where the cashier is glaring at them from behind the counter. Seeing this, Lilia gets up to overthrow their status as loiterers.
“Just ignore it? It’s not like there hasn’t been other celebrity accusations before,” she then tries to reason.
“I have to agree with Victor,” Georgi says. “With a trend this large, we need to throw something concrete to the masses in order to sate their needs. And this article has something that none of the others do.”
“The beanie?” Yuuri says.
In thought, Mila nods and says, “Actual photographic evidence of the beanie Milkman was wearing. Dammit, who would’ve thought someone would dig up a picture with Yuuri in college wearing it — while also having a surgical mask on, no less?”
Yuuri sighs, his shoulders slumping from the heavy heave of air leaving his lungs. “I know exactly who the ‘anonymous source’ is. An old classmate from college. We haven’t stayed in touch, but I remember her being...quite the character.”
“No offense, but that old buddy of yours seems like a fucking lunatic,” Yuri adds.
“Thank you for the keen observation, Yuri, we’ll be sure to keep it under consideration,” Victor says. “But can we get back to the part where a major American news outlet has accused, with substantial evidence backing up their claims, my fiancé of being me?”
“I wouldn’t call Variety a major news outlet,” Yuuri scoffs.
“That’s not the point, dear.” Victor looks everyone with a pleading grimace and says, “So. Any suggestions as to how I’m going to get out of this, identity and image intact?”
“I refuse to be a part of this discussion,” Yakov says. “This whole ordeal is penance for your stupid idea of getting in a fight with an armed criminal.”
“I also refuse to be a part of this discussion,” Yuri repeats, “because fuck you.”
“Honestly, Victor, I don’t see what the problem is?” Mila says, with Georgi nodding his agreement. “Like, as much as I love the memes, it…it isn’t that big of a deal. Yeah it’s a pretty silly name, and yeah you’re busy with your comeback and all, but really, all I can see this doing is reveal to the world your ability in landing a clean dropkick. Why can’t you come out as Milkman and move on with your life?”
“Because I have pride,” Victor asserts, eyes blazing. “It’s not just because I hate the title; I am not Milkman. I mean, I am, but — I am a man who helped a couple of strangers out on my way from the grocery store. Milkman is a social construct made by a bunch of brats on social media who somehow managed to spin the entire ordeal outside of what actually happened. Have you been on the internet lately? Most of those posting about Milkman don’t even know what originally occurred; they’re just posting about me for the hits, the likes, the follows. It’s like — they’re hopping on a bandwagon without knowing who’s even driving the damn thing. I don’t want to be apart of that. I don’t want that to be part of my image. I’m a figure skater, not a buzzword.”
The entire table is silent, everyone shocked at the outburst. Except Yuri, who decidedly looks like he would rather be anywhere but this table at this McDonald’s at this St. Petersburg.
Lilia comes with a tray filled with the entire dessert menu but, sensing the tense atmosphere, remains silence when she sits down.
“I,” Georgi starts. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “I wasn’t aware of how strongly you felt about this.”
“Yeah,” Mila says. “Shit, um. Sorry.”
“Stupid logic,“ Yuri says, “but that’s expected coming from you.” He takes a cookie from the tray and begins to eat it, uncaring for the awkward silence around him.
When Victor turns to him, Yuuri’s lips are pursed. “Do you really feel this way, Victor?”
“Without question,” Victor replies, firm.
After a pause, Yuuri holds Victor’s hand and intertwines their fingers. “Okay,” Yuuri says. Then, to the whole group: “Well, it’s decided, then. As far as the public knows, I am now Milkman.”
Victor blinks. “What?”
Yakov covers his face with his hands, clearly done for the day. “Oh, no.”
-----
y katsuki's ass @fishfishbish
@yuurikatsuki These articles are usually bullshit, but this one seems pretty legit. Sooo I have to ask.. Is it true? bit.ly/1r2xWGS
Yuuri Katsuki @yuurikatsuki
replying to @fishfishbish
ya lol
-----
“The reaction to our little white lie is...just how I imagined it to be,” Victor murmurs as they hide out in the rink’s locker rooms, away from any windows and entrances where they could be seen. It’s been twelve hours since Yuuri tweeted those two words, and shit has inconceivably hit the fan.
“Yeah?” Yuuri says. He takes a drink from his water bottle before screwing the cap shut, placing the bottle beside him on the bench they’re sitting on. “I’m guessing the mass of reporters outside of the rink are, for once, not here for you. Yakov almost popped a blood vessel when they came around. Is this what fame feels like? Should I get an agent?”
“I’ll give my agent a call to set something up, I’m sure she won’t mind.”
“Thank you. Another thing I won’t have to worry about. ”
“You’ve taken to all of this awfully well,” Victor observes. He hadn’t thought Yuuri would be this nonchalant when handed the entire world’s attention in the matter of a single tweet.
“I just feel very…detached from it all, I guess.” He bends down to begin tying his skates. “Like, most of it is online, barring the reporters outside, so it’s easy to ignore. And it has nothing to do about figure skating, which is my main priority, so.”
“I thought I was your main priority?” Victor asks, teasing.
Yuuri presses down a grin. “Ah, you’re a whole other category entirely,” he laughs, nudging Victor’s shoulder with his own. “Now, why don’t you go out and teach me things on the ice, mister hero?” As they get up, Yuuri takes his phone out of his pocket and says, holding it up for Victor to see, “Oh, I almost forgot. Have you seen this yet?”
THE SEARCH IS OVER @thethirstygolfers
tfw ur fighting crime at 8 but u gotta win silver at the grand prix final n break long standing world records at 9 #YuuriMilkmanKatsuki
Yuuri says, voice in awe, “I’m a hashtag, Victor. I’m trending. That hasn’t happened to me since Barcelona.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” Victor says in fond exasperation, pushing the phone out of his sight, “sometimes I forget how much of a millennial you are.”
“You’re only three years older than me,” Yuuri points out, “but yeah, we millennials sure love validation.”
“You get more than enough from me, I’m sure.”
“I do,” Yuuri confirms, “but I’ve always been more on the greedy side.”
-----
WORLD RENOWNED FIGURE SKATER YUURI KATSUKI STEPS UP AS MILKMAN
No confirmation from the Milkman family as of yet, but if you ask us, all it is is a waiting game. You’re welcome, internet.
READ MORE AT VARIETY.COM
-----
Victor knows something's up when he hears Yuuri murmuring softly in the living room. His Russian is clunky but passable, and Victor feels a surge of affection when he hears Yuuri right himself after stumbling over a certain sound that is foreign to his native tongue. He steps within range to hear the last string of conversation.
“...Yes...yes. Of course. Thank you, I’ll get back to you on that. Thank you,” Yuuri says before ending the phone call. He glances at him when he enters the living room and gives Victor a smile in thanks when he hands him a steaming mug of tea. “That was our agent. Apparently some Russian talk show wants an interview with me for their live special?”
“What show?” When Yuuri tells him, Victor laughs, sitting beside him on their sofa. “Ah, I’ve been a guest there a couple of times over the years. It’s well-loved here, for good reason.”
“So what do you think?” When Victor shoots him a quizzical look, Yuuri specifies with, “Should I do it? The show? I’ve never been that great with on-screen interviews before, but maybe this could help appease the masses.”
“Only if you’re comfortable with it,” Victor answers. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. How are you, by the way? With the whole — everything?”
Yuuri tests the tea with a sip and replies, “Good. I mean, I’ve been thinking about it, and — I don’t regret it. I saw how distressed you were about the whole thing; I’m fine with being Milkman if it means you don’t have to go through all that stress. But I feel like I’m not being true to myself, to the public. I’m not a liar, you know?”
Victor shakes his head. “You’re the most truthful man I know.”
At that, Yuuri leans over and pecks him on the cheek. “Thank you. And, well. Having everyone pestering me all the time doesn’t really help. Even Phichit’s been all over my ass for keeping my vigilante antics a secret from him for so long.”
Victor winces in sympathy. “That doesn’t sound pleasant.”
“It’s not.” Yuuri leans against the arm of the sofa and lifts his legs so they’re splayed across Victor’s lap. “But I wanted to do it. It’s fine.”
“Thank you, dear.”
“And I think I’m gonna do the interview.”
Victor smooths his hand over one of Yuuri’s shins. “Are you sure?”
“Might as well. Do you think they’re going to send in the family you saved as a ‘surprise’ for me?”
“I know for a fact that the host has done something like that before.”
“Huh.” Another sip of his drink. “I should probably dress up as you, then.”
“In my clothes?”
“In your clothes.”
“They’ll definitely be too big for you.”
Yuuri chuckles at that. “I’ll tell them that I’ve lost a couple of pounds.”
“No amount of weight loss can explain how Milkman somehow shrunk ten or so centimeters.”
Yuuri hums in thought, running a finger around the rim of his mug. Finally, he ends with, “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”
Victor stare’s at Yuuri’s profile, numb with gratitude for how lucky he is. “I guess we will.”
-----
binktop… @eggselent
@v_nikiforov so how's it like being engaged to the defender of dairy himself #YuuriMilkmanKatsuki
Victor Nikiforov @v_nikiforov
replying to @eggselent
If he’s the milk then I’m the cookie: a match made in heaven ❤️❤️❤️
-----
“Thanks for coming,” Yuuri says gratefully, looking uncomfortable as they get out of Victor’s car and towards the studio.
“Are you kidding?” Mila asks. She looks especially beautiful today, having put extra time in her appearance in the slight chance she gets some screentime. “I’ve been trying to get into this show’s studio audience for ages. I’m doing this for me just as much as I’m doing this for you, buddy.”
Georgi says, the handkerchief he brought with him already damp with tears, “I needed to support you. I had to. What you’re doing for Victor is the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life. My stomach is full of butterflies. I’ve ascended into another plane of existence from the pure emotion I’m witnessing right now. After Anya, I didn’t think I would know what it’s like to love another again, but seeing your sacrifice made me realize that I’ve never known love at all. Nevertheless, that does not deter me — in fact, it gives me strength; strength in that I can find a bond the slightest bit like what you have now. I thank you, Yuuri, for showing me what true, unadulterated love looks like in the flesh.”
“Ugh,” Yuri groans. “Get me out of this hellhole.”
“And I’m sure Yakov and Lilia would’ve came too if they didn’t have the rink to look after,” Victor assures him, hands on the planes of Yuuri’s back. “Now, you have to go backstage, dear. The aids over there will lead you to where you’re supposed to go. You’re going to do great.”
“But what if I don’t?”
There it is: the self-doubt Yuuri can’t help but feel, no matter how capable he is, no matter how many times Victor says that yes, you’re good enough. At first Victor hadn’t understood why Yuuri reacts this way in situations he’s perfectly able to perform, but now Victor has come to learn that the best thing to do when Yuuri is like this is to stand behind him and give him as much love and support as he’s able to.
He stops in his tracks and takes a stuttering breath. “What if someone realizes that I’m not Milkman? I’m not as tall as you, my Russian still isn’t that great, and I’ve just realized how utterly ridiculous this beanie looks —”
“You don’t need to do this,” Victor says, and he’s not lying. If Yuuri says the word, he’ll take them all away, talk show appearance be damned.
“Yeah. But I want to.”
“Then we’ll be here for you. You’ll be able to see us in the studio audience. Good luck, okay?”
The smile Yuuri gives him is shaky, full of nerves. “I love you.”
Victor kisses him. Yuuri’s lips are chapped and bitten from anxiety — they’re exactly what Victor has always wanted. “I love you, too.”
“So are we going to go inside or are we just gonna stand here until one of us dies?” Yuri butts in.
“I’ve always wondered who taught you your manners,” Victor says, watching Yuuri’s back as he walks away. “Because they’ve done an awful job with it.”
“Blame the world’s current political climate,” Yuri dismisses.
“You — what? What does that have to do with anything?”
Yuri shrugs, a telltale sign that he’s bullshitting. “It stresses me out,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“You’re a very odd child,” Georgi remarks thoughtfully.
“Look at yourself in the mirror and get back to me on that.”
“Can we — can we just go inside? Please?” Victor interrupts, exasperated. It’s times like these where he realizes that he’s considered the adult, thereby the most responsible, in most of his friend groups.
“So,” Mila begins as they reach their designated seats a while later. “About the five million ruble reward.”
Victor sincerely wishes for this day to go by as fast as possible.
-----
When it’s time for Yuuri’s interview Victor feels like he’s far more nervous than what Yuuri looks like when he walks on stage. Sure, he’s more jittery than a more seasoned interviewee would be, and more than once Victor sees Yuuri wipe his sweaty palms on his trousers — but he takes every question tossed at him in stride with his rough yet charming Russian, his timid smile easily enamoring every person in the audience, Victor included. He laughs along at Yuuri and the host’s banter, as if he wasn’t there when Yuuri had done the pre interview with the producer of this show over the phone a day before.
Sometimes it astounds Victor how unmindful Yuuri is to his natural charisma, especially in times like this: in less than five minutes, he has the entire studio audience and the host in the palm of his hand.
When the lead up to The Question finally begins, Victor is slouched comfortably with his head resting on his palm, no longer concerned for how Yuuri will handle this.
That is, until, The Question is actually asked.
“So, Yuuri,” the host says, leaning towards Yuuri in a conspiratory manner, as if they are about to share a secret between one another. “I have to ask. This is what we’ve all been waiting for, and I feel like it doesn’t even need to be said when I say that we need a concrete, verbal affirmation.”
Yuuri sits up in his seat, his face blank. Victor is hit with how much he loves him.
“Are you the Milkman?”
He is then hit with the realization that Yuuri will have to live with this lie for the rest of his life.
How could Victor be so selfish? Like he had said before when confiding with Victor: Yuuri isn’t a liar. Is Victor really letting the love of his life make a lifetime commitment in shouldering his own burden because of a name? Victor doesn’t deserve him. Damn Milkman and Victor’s fears for his image; Yuuri is more important. He needs to fix this. But how?
Of course, he thinks, watching Yuuri open his mouth to answer the question, how else but in the most ostentiously extra way possible?
He stands up, quick enough for a light dizzy-spell to fog up his brain for a moment until his vision clears.
“ENOUGH!” he bellows in as much as an authoritative voice as possible, causing everyone in the studio to stop what they’re doing at look at him. Mila looks like she’s about to fall over with mirth. Georgi looks like he’s about to fall over in a pool of his own tears (“Do it,” he stage-whispers with a quivering lip). Yuri looks like he’s about to bolt at any moment.
But Victor’s not looking at anything but the camera that immediately directs its lens at him, following his every movement as he walks down the steps and onto the elevated stage. Victor is not Victor right now; right now he is the Victor who is known throughout the figure skating world as the charismatic gold medaling-winning prodigy who always has a sultry grin and disarming wink at the ready. He is putting on a show because he is in love, but for once it is not for a sport but for a man.
The host sputters when Victor snatches her table mic and walks center stage, revelling in the bright studio lights on his skin and the open-mouthed astonishment on everyone’s faces. He should’ve done this ages ago.
Victor channels his inner-Georgi and says:
“I cannot handle this anymore! The world deserves to know the truth! My own pride does not entitle me the privilege of censoring the reality of what had actually occurred! We as a country — no, we as a united people merit more than what is filtered to us!”
He glances to Yuuri, who is stock-still in his seat, staring at Victor with wide, deer in the headlights eyes — and Victor’s act cracks. “And you, my Yuuri, are so much more than a scapegoat for this heavy burden I have willingly loaded onto your shoulders. I’m sorry, dear. I promise that right now, I will right my wrongs.”
He turns to the closest camera and hardens his resolve. “This is something I carry in my heart, in my conscious, and can no longer deny to myself and to you all. Citizens of Russia and the rest of the world: I, Victor Nikiforov, am the Milkman.”
The audience gasp. The talk show host nearly falls off her chair. Mila’s hysterical laughter and Georgi’s tearful cheers of approval carries over the audible chaos. Yuri is nowhere to be seen. The producers behind the camera congratulate each other for what is sure to be the highest rated episode in Russian daytime television history.
Having gotten over the initial shock during the middle of Victor’s impromptu coming-out speech, Yuuri stands up. He smiles at him. Victor doesn’t resist when he is pulled down by his tie for a kiss.
Victor doesn’t bother to care about how this is airing live throughout the nation, nor how he is currently making out with his fiancé in front of an audience and multiple cameras. The bright studio lights aimed at the stage are not nearly as searing as Yuuri’s lips.
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did that rly happen @jalvarez
@getgot how much are u willing to bet @v_nikiforov didn't wanna be outed as milkman bc of the how stupid the name is #VictorMilkmanNikiforov
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Other than the rink, Victor and Yuuri aren’t allowed to go anywhere where there is the possibility of being spotted.
“We need to wait until some of this blows over,” Yakov, looking more aged than ever, had said. “You fucking idiots. I can’t believe you pulled that shit. This isn’t a soap opera, you two! This is real life and Worlds is in less than a month; how do you think things are going to go down when the media would rather talk about your heated display of intimacy than your performances on the ice?”
Behind Yakov, looking more pleased than ever, Lilia'd given them two thumbs up. I’m so proud of you, she mouths at them.
“At least Yurio is showing us some support,” Yuuri muses later as they eat dinner, and he shows Victor a tweet Yuri had posted less than an hour before.
Yuri Plisetsky @yuri_plisetsky
*fiancé but yeah what a tool
i'm not even mad @thethirstygolfers
when u lie for ur bf but he calls u out n starts making out w u on live television #relatable #relationshipgoals #VictorMilkmanNikiforov
“Even seeing little Yura defend us online can’t take away how boring it is to be on house arrest,” Victor complains, poking at his food with a fork. “Yuuri, I’m bored.”
When Yuuri doesn’t reply, Victor looks up from his dinner to find Yuuri staring back. “I would’ve done it, you know,” he mumbles thoughtfully, so soft Victor has to strain to hear him. “I would’ve gone through with the plan. You didn’t need to do it.”
“Yeah.” Victor sets his fork down and holds Yuuri’s hand across the table. “But I wanted to.”
This makes Yuuri flush a pretty pink. “Has anyone told you how much of a charmer you are?”
Victor smiles cheekily and traces a slow, lazy pattern on the back of Yuuri’s hand with his thumb. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t feel like he needs to.
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THE GIRL WHO STARTED IT ALL ON VICTOR ‘MILKMAN’ NIKIFOROV REVEALING HIMSELF TO BE THE GOOD SAMARITAN WHO SAVED HER FAMILY FROM AN UNFORTUNATE FATE: “YEAH, THAT’S DEFINITELY HIM”
“Only Milkman could spontaneously do something that unnecessarily extravagant on live television,” the wise-beyond-her-years eight-year-old writes in a post on her family’s Facebook account. “We’re happy to say that because of how things turned out we will be donating the five million ruble reward to a charity of our choosing. And as for Victor: we cannot be more happier for him and his fiancé, they seem very happy together. Congratulations to Victor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki for finding each other. Don’t forget to invite us to the wedding!”
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