“Tadaima,” Victor called, tugging his scarf down from his mouth. The loss of warmth was distinct when he slipped out of his trenchcoat, but a smile made its way onto his lips when he heard Yuuri’s voice drift around the corner, soft and lilting around the okaeri.
He placed his shoes by the front door next to Yuuri’s, straightening them just so, before padding over to where Yuuri was snuggled into the couch. A thick, fluffy blue blanket was draped over his legs, along with Victor’s old Team Russia jacket zipped over his torso. He looked very warm, compared to the chilliness of the evening outside. A pastel green mug sat on the coffee table, thin wisps of steam still rising into the air, and his laptop was perched on the arm of the couch.
Yuuri offered him a sleepy smile as he came closer, his hair slightly damp and curling at the edges. Yuuri had felt stressed this morning, so had come home from the rink a few hours earlier than Victor did. And Victor was glad, because he looked so much better rested after taking that time for himself.
“Hi Vitya,” he murmured, pausing the video on his laptop and patting the spot next to him. “Wanna join me?”
“Always, lyubov,” Victor said, already grabbing his own purple blanket from another armchair and moving to sit down by Yuuri’s side. Once there, he noticed exactly what was playing on the screen. “Are you watching my old programs?” he asked.
Yuuri’s smile became a little shy. “They’ve always helped me relax,” he admitted, turning back to his laptop and hitting play. Almost immediately, the tinny sound of his Victory program floated through the speakers and the grainy image of a twenty-five-year-old Victor Nikiforov began to move.
Victor found himself critiquing the movements of his younger self almost instantly—he was too stiff in this one section, he wobbled slightly on the landing of the triple axel—but when he glanced at Yuuri, he was surprised to see a look of admiration on his face despite all the obvious flaws.
“I love the way you flicked your wrist here,” Yuuri said, his eyes sparkling as he pointed the movement out a second before the Victor on the screen even did. “It had perfect timing with the music, and I could feel the triumph you were trying to convey with this program. I ran out to the rink to practice my own program almost immediately after—it was really inspiring.”
“The costume choice could’ve been a little better though,” Yuuri continued, sounding thoughtful once the last notes of the music faded and the camera had cut to Victor’s smiling face. “If you were to reuse a costume, I think the one from 2010 would’ve been perfect for a free skate about victory.”
“You’re such a big fan,” Victor teased, resting his head on Yuuri’s shoulder. “Have you been following my career for that long?”
They were quiet again as the video continued and eventually settled on an interview right after Victor received a score that shot his name to the top of the board, assuring him as world champion for the third year in a row.
“How did you feel about this performance, Victor?” a reporter asked, looking eager, and suddenly everything clicked into place.
It was this season.
Victor had thought there was something strange about the program Yuuri was watching, why it had made him so uncomfortable, and now he knew. It was the year that Victor had grown tired of skating and winning and putting on plastic doll smiles for the public and his country.
The Victor on-screen smiled then, and to him it was so obvious how fake it was. No one else seemed to notice how forced it seemed, how his eyes were dark with fatigue, how his voice was overly bright as he answered.
“I’m really happy with it!” Victor replied, still smiling. “It was a difficult program to perfect, but it seems that all my hard work paid off.”
Victor remembered that the reporter had given him an almost patronizing laugh at that last sentence and said—
“Well, how hard can learning programs be for a three-time world champion, right?”
That had happened a little more than three years ago, but those words, no matter how well-intended they may have been, still stung even as he heard them now. He’d felt so much freer after meeting Yuuri, but hearing this and seeing the plastic smile he’d put on for years reminded him of how much he didn’t want to go back to a world that saw him only as Victor Nikiforov, Living Legend, instead of Victor Nikiforov, a man who liked to go on nighttime walks with his fiancé, cook anything and everything he could in the kitchen, and read as many books as there were stars.
It had bothered him more than he let on how people dismissed his hard work and drive in favor of placing him on a pedestal.
“You weren’t happy.”
Victor blinked, startled out of his thoughts. “What?”
“You weren’t happy,” Yuuri repeated, his smile a little sad. “I could always tell in your interviews.”
Victor could only stare at Yuuri, frozen. “You—what?” He swallowed down the growing lump of emotion in his throat. “…How did you know?”
He thought he’d hid it so well. No one seemed to question his loneliness or growing weariness once he started winning—no one stopped to think about how all this was affecting him. So Victor assumed that no one had noticed.
But Yuuri was there, thousands and thousands of kilometers away, watching as Victor’s energy and love for the ice was slowly sapped away by the pressure of years spent at the top.
And seeing Yuuri’s quiet, earnest expression in front of him now, and telling him how he knew how much Victor needed someone to stay close to him, all those years of suppressed emotions tumbled out.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, Vitya,” Yuuri whispered against his hair, arms wrapped tightly around him as he cried. “But I promise that I’ll be here for as long as I can.”
Victor laughed wetly, tightening his hold on Yuuri. He was currently under two blankets, a fiancé, and a wandering poodle on the couch of his apartment in St. Petersburg, and God, he’d never imagined that his home could feel so warm.
“You never fail to surprise me, lyubov moya. Thank you.”
Then Yuuri pressed a kiss to the crown of Victor’s head. “I love you,” he murmured, and Victor smiled into Yuuri’s side.
if I was the one doing the interviews it would be too long, i would ask them about their music, their next projects, their uniced project, what things inspired them to do it, what kind of things inspired them to write their songs, the things their interested in,, we would joke a bit, etc, then i would be like ‘'ok now the next part of the interview:-)’ and they would stare at me like ????? while i would be saying: ‘ok im going to start! jungkook! how does feel to know that every star and even the moon, and all the galaxies were born as u soon as u opened your eyes when you were born??? yoongi! how does it feels to be the softest, cutest boy in the world?? jin! did u know that you’re the most beautiful, handsome, talented,funniest boy in the whole world?? who am i kidding of course u know!, hobi, u king, wOW,WOW, someone told me, that a friend of a cousin of their best friend’s mom told them that the sun say that he didn’t have any reason to exist anymore since the day u were born, also take ur time with the hixtape i love u, taehyung! u smart adorable amazing talented angel! im so proud of u, u king, yeah u love art, but did u know that the word ‘art’ and the whole concept of it didn’t exist before u were born? yes, you’re the reason of why art exist in this world, thank u, jimin my boy! fun fact: happiness, love, peace, everything good in the world, none of these things were an actual thing, but WOW, u laughed?? and suddenly all of these were real, also i wanted to let u know that u look amazing with black hair, listen im just saying, i love u, namjoon!! RM! real me!! or do u want me to call u mr. me?? whatever makes u happy, i just wanted to let u know that all the effort u put it into this it’s amazing, and that you’re doing great, and it’s so sweet how you’re always trying your best, you legend….u angel,, here’s my money, take it,
I think this post has been long overdue, but as some of you may have noticed, I haven’t been as active on Tumblr for quite some time now, and I wanted to take a moment to let everyone know that I recently decided to take a break from social media altogether for a few personal reasons, and I’m so sorry that I didn’t let anyone know any sooner. There has been a massive amount of incoming stress from my studies that have caused a few meltdowns (finals are approaching), and there are a few things in my personal life I’m still battling with and attempting to overcome in the meantime. Whether or not I’ll be as active in the next few weeks still remains to be determined, but I do miss being part of this community and I can’t wait until I’m capable of doing so again.
To everyone who sent me your sweet and kind messages of love and support while I was away, thank you. Thank you so much. I can’t apologize enough for not having gotten to my inbox any sooner, but I want you to know that I cherish every message I received.
I just want to thank @empresstress13 @mistressdreadwolf @dreadhobo @the-emerald-halla @inner-muse for sending me such sweet messages and being there for me while I’ve been away. I know I haven’t spoken to some of you in some time, but know that your encouragement and support really does mean the absolute world to me. I’m so lucky to have gotten to know you all.
good morning i just woke up and i just wanted to say that i am absolutely astounded that so many amazing people follow me and enjoy my little jokes!!! i love you all!!! thank every so much for being here and making me feel valid and loved!!!!
one thing i’ve noticed and that’s like warmed my heart to incredible amounts is how even when interviewers ask them about like “weird” stuff fans do or if they get “attacked” by fans, bts simply refuses to ridicule or make fun of anything fans do. like i feel as though i’ve seen most celebs do stuff like that for a laugh, without even wanting to be mean ofc, but these boys know that without army they wouldn’t be where they are today and i think that just goes to show how humble and grateful they constantly are for us and how appreciate all the love and support they get from army. it’s really……idk refreshing? or just idk, it really makes me emotional
El’s so grateful Mike insisted on giving her a ride to school on his bike because it gives her a chance to review all the advice she’s gotten from the party over the last couple weeks
But a lot of their suggestions conflict (Lucas: “If you don’t know the answer when a teacher asks a question, don’t make eye contact with them or they’ll call on you” Dustin: “No way, you want to look the son of a bitch right in the eye to let them know you’re not afraid. Then, they’ll call on someone else. It’s a power move.” Max: “No, don’t listen to them, just pretend to be really engrossed in taking notes.”)
She gets her class schedule and it’s still a little surreal to see her name (Hopper, Jane) written down
She can’t believe how many people are at school and it’s a little overwhelming until she grabs Mike’s hand squeezes
He squeezes back right away and doesn’t let go as the walk to their first class
The class is English, which Eleven loves instantly (the teacher keeps talking about all these cool books they’re going to read—apparently one is about grapes and El can’t believe someone wrote a whole book on her favorite fruit)
She writes down everything the teacher says and fills up three pages in her notebook (although she wonders if she wasn’t supposed to because Mike didn’t take out a notebook at all and he keeps looking at her funny)
She has to part from Mike for math class, but Will sits in front of her and keeps passing her funny drawings and notes so the class goes by fast
After the bell for lunch rings, they exit the classroom and Mike runs up to them, panting, and starts asking El a million questions about how math class went
Eleven’s favorite part of the day is definitely lunch because she gets to sit with all of her friends and listen to them joke and argue and laugh
Everything goes smoothly from there until the last class of the day when the teacher asks them to pair up with someone they don’t know and then introduce their partner to the class
Eleven panics for a second, but Mike immediately turns to her, sticks out his hand, and says, “hi, my name’s Mike, short for Michael”
When the final bell rings, Eleven can’t believe after two years of begging Hopper she finally got what she had been asking for: a day of being a normal kid