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It was so, so dark.
Viktor couldn’t see anything around him. He couldn’t see his own hands in front of him, even if he brought them up right in front of his face. There was no sound; not even the sound of his own breathing. The only thing he still had, the only thing he could do, was feel.
The walls were pressed tight around him. The proximity put a heavy weight on his chest that felt eerily like his lungs were full of water. The room was cold, frigid, colder than any ice rink he’d ever been in. The coldness felt as if it was seeping into his very core, freezing him from the inside.
He tried calling out, and though he could feel his lips move, there was no sound. He tried again, calling for someone, anyone. Yuuri, Yakov, Georgi, anyone. His voice started as a scream, but died out into a whimper as no one answered. Viktor fell to his knees. There was no change in vision, no sound. The only indication that had actually happened was the thud that vibrated up his leg, and the feeling of ice permeating his joints.
Shit.
Viktor realized it a second too late. His joints were freezing over. He tried to push himself up to standing, but he couldn’t get up. His legs wouldn’t respond. He was stuck on his knees, now.
Fuck, fuck, fuck-
Then, the darkness parted a little bit, and from the shadows, he could just barely make out a familiar shape. Dark hair, tan skin, thin arms, broad hips. Yuuri.
“Yuuri,” Viktor tried to say, but it came out as a sob.
“Viktor,” Yuuri responded, but his voice was… off. It lacked the usual warmth, the usual bright, lilting cadence. His voice was monotone, void of emotion. Nearly robotic. “Oh, Viktor.”
“Yuuri, Yuuri, please,” Viktor cried, reaching his hands out to Yuuri. Yuuri stepped forwards, but ignored Viktor’s extended hands. Instead, he reached out and held his chin tightly between his thumb and forefinger, looking down at him with a sharp, piercing gaze.
“Look at you, Viktor. The great Viktor Nikiforov. Russia’s living legend.” A smirk grew on his face.”But you’re not really as great as they say you are, right, Viktor?”
Viktor couldn’t speak. He couldn’t breathe. His chest was frozen over, his jaw frozen from Yuuri’s icy touch.
“You know, I tried to love you. I really did. You’re a fantastic skater, and I thought, if he thinks I love him, he’ll teach me all he knows. I’ll be able to grow under him, grow until I surpass him. Maybe, somewhere along the line, it’ll become real. But that never happened.” He smiled icily. Viktor felt tears well up in his eyes, but he couldn’t look away from Yuuri’s loveless eyes, his sardonic smile.
What’s wrong, Viktor? Oh, no, you really fell for it, didn’t you?”
Yuuri leaned in, looking down at his lips as if he was going to kiss him. They shared a breath.
“You really thought I loved you.”
Yuuri locked eyes with him as the tears overflowed from his eyes and spilled down his cheeks. His chest felt like it was caving in. He felt like he was dying. A moment passed, where Yuuri stared at him impassively, and Viktor tried not to sob. Then, he laughed, a dark, lilting giggle. It made Viktor’s stomach twist into a hard knot.
No, no, my Yuuri would never do that, he would never be so cruel. He loves me.
Doesn’t he?
“Viktor, Viktor, Viktor,” Yuuri giggled. “Get it together, Viktor. Who could ever love you? You’re married to the ice, after all. The golden god Viktor Nikiforov is untouchable, unstoppable. Unloveable. All you have is your record, and you have nobody to blame but yourself. How could you expect someone to love you when you can’t even love yourself, Viktor? Who would want to be with someone so broken?”
Yuuri slid his hand down from Viktor’s chin, fingers gliding over the pale skin of his throat. He reached the base of Viktor’s throat, hands delicately hovering over his collarbones. He brought the other hand up to join, so that his fingers were wrapped around the base of his neck.
“Oh, Viktor. You’re so cold,” Yuuri cooed, his voice laden with fake sympathy. “You poor thing. Maybe you’re just finally freezing over, hmm? Maybe you’re becoming a relic of the past. They always did say the ice takes and takes from you; maybe it’s finally taking what’s left of you too.”
Another sharp giggle, and then Yuuri’s hands tightened.
If Viktor thought he couldn’t breathe before, he was wrong. Because now, he really couldn’t breathe.
Yuuri’s unusually sharp nails dug into the hollow of his throat, drawing blood. His fingers twisted deep, and Viktor felt copper flood his mouth. He couldn’t do anything, couldn’t cough or choke, couldn’t open his mouth and beg for Yuuri to stop. He just remained on his knees, eyes blown wide with tears streaking down his face, frozen, merciless under Yuuri’s hands.
“Good. I say let it take you. It’s better this way. We’re all better off this way, without you. Me, Yakov, Yurio. We’re all better when you’re not around.”
I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please, he wanted to beg. He could try as hard as he wanted, but his mouth was still full of blood, his jaw still frozen over.
“I have just one question, Viktor. Why wasn’t it enough? You had everything. You had the ice. You had a legacy. You had it all. Why couldn’t you just be happy?”
Yuuri’s face twisted, then, as if something had occurred to him.
“It must’ve been because you were never enough. So just give it up, Viktor.”
“Just-” His voice took on a hazy quality, as his vision started to fade. Viktor couldn’t even find it in himself to be afraid that this was almost certainly his end, that he was dying. All he could feel was the crushing sadness of Yuuri’s words, ricocheting through his chest like a bullet, tearing everything it came into contact with apart. He didn’t fight the heaviness in his eyes. He let them slip shut slowly.
As his vision faded and his eyes slipped shut, though, he heard a new voice.
“Vitya!”
God, no more. Please, Yuuri, I’m sorry, he thought.
“Vitya, baby, come on-”
All at once, his limbs weren’t locked up anymore, and he could breathe.
He shot up, gasping for air. His hands flew to his neck, where hands had been wrapped around his throat just moments ago. They were gone; in their place, he felt hands on his back, his shoulder, stroking slow circles. It wasn’t the same, though. These ones were gentle. They were warm, blissfully heated against Viktor’s frigid skin.
He couldn’t speak through the uncontrollable, ragged gasping. His body was desperate for air, and he couldn’t slow his breathing enough to feel like he was actually breathing.
“Vitya, hey, hey, easy, baby,” A voice said in his ear, soft and gentle. Familiar.
Yuuri. Oh, God, Yuuri.
Viktor flung himself backwards, his back hitting something hard, bringing his knees up to his chest. Fabric pooled on his lap. He swung his head around to the voice, taking in Yuuri’s soft eyes, the gentle crease in his brow, his wavering, reassuring smile. He tried to speak, to beg, anything, but all that came out was a desperate whine.
“Vitya, baby,” Yuuri whispered. He reached his hand out slowly, as if he was trying to approach and calm a frightened animal. “Honey, it’s just me. It’s Yuuri, love.”
Viktor shook his head desperately.
No, no, no, he wanted to scream.
I’m so sorry, please, don’t hurt me again, he wanted to beg.
I thought you loved me, I’m sorry I wasn’t enough, he wanted to sob.
Instead, a string of whimpers fell from his clenched jaw, catching on the end of every rough breath.
“It was just a nightmare, it wasn’t real, sweetheart. You’re safe.”
Yuuri reached forwards more, reaching his hand very slowly towards Viktor’s bent knees.
“I’m going to touch you now, okay? I’m gonna prove to you I’m real.” He said. He locked eyes with Viktor as he gently set his hand down on his knee, his touch light and gentle.
“See, Vitya? I’m real. You’re safe. Nothing can hurt you, honey. I love you. It was all just a dream.”
Viktor threw himself forwards into Yuuri. Immediately, arms came up and wrapped around him tightly, his head being pressed against a warm chest. Yuuri’s words rang through his ears. Words he thought he would never get to hear again.
You’re safe. I love you.
This was his Yuuri. Warm, real, and safe.
“It was just a dream,” Yuuri repeated, stroking the soft baby hairs on the back of Viktor’s neck. “It was just a dream, Viten’ka. I’ve got you, sweetheart.”
Viktor sobbed into Yuuri’s chest.
“Shh. Shh, baby, it’s okay. I’ve got you. Just breathe. Can you do that for me, baby?” Viktor tried, he really did, but he couldn’t get a solid breath in. His chest just spasmed, and it came out as a broken sob.
“It’s okay, honey. Here, let’s do it together, okay? Breathe with me, Vitya.” Yuuri drew in a strong, loud breath, his whole chest rising with it. Viktor tried to time it with Yuuri, though it rattled in his chest. Yuuri exhaled, slow and even, and Viktor followed suit. His was uneven and nowhere near as long, but it was something. Better than before.
Judging by the way Yuuri pressed a kiss to the crown of his head, humming a gentle, “Good, Vitya, so good, love you so much,” he would say Yuuri agreed with him.
They breathed together for a few minutes, during which time the only sound in the room was their breaths, and Yuuri’s occasional sweet praise. The quiet helped ground him, helped him to reorganize and gain control of his mind.
“It wasn’t real,” Viktor whispered, his voice rough and shaky. Yuuri startled the faintest bit, obviously not expecting Viktor to talk so soon, before he relaxed again. He tightened his embrace around Viktor for a moment, kissing the top of his head.
“There’s my Vitya,” he murmured into the silver strands. Another kiss, and then, “You’re right, darling. It wasn’t real. It was just a dream.”
“It was just a dream.”
“Mhm.”
“It wasn’t real.” And finally, his voice lost the shaky edge. He took a breath on his own and held it, letting it out slowly.
“Feeling a little better?” Yuuri asked. Viktor nodded.
“Good. Wanna talk about it?”
“No need,” he replied. “It’s okay, now. I know it wasn’t real.”
He wasn’t lying. Now that he knew it wasn’t real, it was easier to banish the eerie, disturbing imagery his mind had stirred up. It lost most of its pain. It was such a stark contrast from his reality, that it was so easy, now, to tell that it wasn’t real. There’s no way his Yuuri could have ever said anything like that. It was just his mind trying to trick him. The last dredges of the fear, the pain, the crushing weight on his chest faded as he sat there, enveloped in Yuuri’s warmth.
“I’m glad you know it’s not real, darling. You scared me; I kept shaking you and calling out to you, but you wouldn’t wake up. You were crying, begging me, but I couldn’t get you to wake up. Then you screamed, and God, you sounded so hurt.” Viktor felt something wet land in his hair. and he leaned back to look at Yuuri. A tear traced its way down his face, glittering in the low light of the room. He gave Viktor a gentle smile, and wiped the tear away with a little huff, a ghost of a laugh. “Sorry, baby. It just scared me, is all. I don’t like seeing you hurt.”
At a loss for words, Viktor just reached up and threaded his hand together with Yuuri’s. He brought their joined hands down to rest between their bodies, where both of their heartbeats thrummed together.
Yuuri pulled Viktor back into a hug with his one free arm, cradling his head. Viktor drew in a breath.
“Wanna watch a movie in the living room? I don’t wanna go back to sleep just yet.”
Yuuri pulled back and smiled down at him, pressing a kiss to his knuckles while his thumb smoothed slow circles into his palm.
“Of course,” he whispered. “I would love nothing more.”
So, that’s how Viktor found himself on the couch, buried under as many blankets as they both could find, his head resting on Yuuri’s shoulder. Across both of them lay Makkachin, adding an extra layer of heat. Her tail wagged steadily, beating a steady rhythm on the blanket. She had been overjoyed when the two of them had emerged from their room with tons of blankets. Yuuri had scolded her gently in Japanese when she tried to tackle them, which made Viktor giggle.
As the intro music to Viktor’s favorite movie started over their television, he felt his eyelids grow heavy. This was real. Warm, gentle love. Sweet, hyper dogs and gentle touches. A mix of their native tongues, blending together to form a shared home.
Yuuri had chased the cold away; he wasn’t the source of it. Bundled under thick blankets, with the warm skin of his lover pressed up against him, Viktor knew one thing for certain; as long as his Yuuri was here, he would never feel that cold again.