I love the ‘Viktor lives an extravagant lifestyle and wants to shower Yuuri in rich things’ headcanon as much as the next person. I think it stems from my working class fantasies of someday marrying someone who wants to love and support me unconditionally both emotionally and financially. But who doesn’t.
That being said, I see a lot of people portraying Viktor as sitting down with Yuuri in the planning process for their wedding (And for the rest of their lives) and saying things like Ten-tier wedding cake celebrity chef catering Armani tuxes white doves all-rose centerpieces g o l d and all I can imagine–and, granted, this is just my personal view of Yuuri as a character; Yuuri who I over-identify with on a good day–is Yuuri sitting there and going HOLY! SHIT! and completely shutting down.
And maybe this is how Viktor starts off as. Viktor probably comes from money originally, and we as a fandom have discussed this to kingdom come. We’ve also concluded that even if your personal headcanon is Viktor achieving his own wealth, he’s…well, wealthy. This is more or less canon at this point. Viktor is, perhaps not necessarily The One Percent, but definitely high upper middle class, and definitely not afraid to show it.
And he’s good! So good! He’s genuine with it, he wants to spend all of his money on his fiance and his dog and their wedding and the life they’re going to build together! He wants to buy a big place to live, a house or a condo he doesn’t care, and fill it with family and love!
But Yuuri doesn’t come from wealth. He comes from a family that probably sometimes struggled to pay bills. Sometimes, he probably sat in his bedroom and listened to his parents decide whether they were going to get the car fixed, or replace the washing machine, because they couldn’t afford to do both at the same time. I have this idea that Toshiya probably got a second job to pay for Yuuri’s ballet and ice skating lessons, and that it’s probably something Yuuri felt very bad about–and still does to a certain extent.
And he’s paying them back, now. He’s winning, sometimes, and whatever he doesn’t need to feed himself goes straight back home. But then he gets engaged to literally the most successful figure skater in the history of forever.
And maybe sometimes he can’t deal?
I think that Viktor is the kind of person who would realize fairly quickly that Yuuri is uncomfortable with grant displays. Yuuri is the kind of person who doesn’t like PDA; he doesn’t hug his parents after five years away because it’s just not what’s done in his culture. Of course he would be uncomfortable with sitting next to his fiance with the wedding planner while the words filet mignon dinner come out of his mouth.
And I think it would come out to something like this: Viktor realizes that it isn’t the size or extravagance of the wedding that he wants to badly, but the symbolism. He wants something beautiful. Something lovely, and intricate, and full of meaning. Viktor has been confusing expense with significance his entire life, and I think that this is the moment where he realizes that that’s not the case.
And yes, some of those elements are expensive. Blue rose aren’t cheap, and neither is champagne. But Makkachin is well-trained and only has to be pointed in the right direction to bring them their rings–and he works for liver treats. And Phichit is a wonderful photographer for a man whose major played a background role to his skating career. And the day Viktor and Yuuri asked Hiroko and Toshiya Katsuki if they could have their wedding at the Onsen was the day that Viktor realized, truly realized, that he had gained not only a lover, a life partner, but a family.
It’s not the wedding Viktor imagined–except, it was never going to be, because Viktor doesn’t think he ever quite imagined getting married to someone.
Of course, the fact that Viktor spent well over their honeymoon budget is…something that Yuuri supposes he can tolerate.
He’s lying in bed with a cold, eating the chicken soup his mother made him, when he suddenly hears a bunch of children sing.
Lance recognizes the song immediately. It’s one of those they make you sing in kindergarten. He drops his spoon into the bowl and calls for his mom excitedly.
His soulmate must be around his age.
Keith almost falls off his bike from giggling.
He’s on his way home from school when his soulmate listens to some song about butts. It’s form him, he knows that.
It’s not what they usually listen to and it’s become kind of a habbit. They will listen to something with really weird lyrics at the most unexpected of times just to make Keith laugh. His parents find it a bit inappropriate at times but Keith doesn’t mind. He can feel his soulmate’s amusement each time and it makes him laugh even harder.
He likes to think about what his soulmate must be like. They mostly listen to pop-rock but sometimes classical music too. Keith likes it. It’s a nice contrast to his own undefinied taste in music. He also hears a lot of wedding and birthday songs so they must have a big family.
Their lives seem to be quite different but Keith likes to thinks that they complete each other.
Lance finds his soulmate’s taste in music weird. It’s not that he doesn’t like the songs, so far he liked all of them in some way. But there are so many different genres. He’s sure that his soulmate is one of those people who listen to everything as long as it sounds good in some way.
He keeps playlists. One playlist for every year since he turned 12. There are a lot of songs in them and they’re taking up a lot of memory but he refuses to delete anything.
When he’s 14 Keith is on edge. There have been no songs for over a week and he is starting to freak out. His soulmate usually listens to music every single day, so when there are no songs at all for that long… something must be very wrong, right?
Here’s to the new me. The old me. The you-don’t-even-know-me. To the me that died twice before I met you: third time’s the charm. Been chewed up and spit out more than I’ve ever seen a sunrise, and I’ve only ever liked sunrises when I’m with you. I’ll become something you’ve never seen before, nothing borrowed, nothing blue. Set my head aflame, built a home out of the ashes, let the wind blow it away into the sun. The breeze sings, lo que está muerto no puede morir. And when there’s nothing left to burn, you have to set yourself on fire.
I don’t know that kid anymore, and maybe I never knew him at all.