Catch gold medalist, skating legend Viktor Nikiforov ghibli sobbing into Christophe Giacometti’s (sparkly, freshly pressed- oh my god Viktor stop) suit while his husband-to-be Katsuki Yuuri is dead to the world, passed out on the floor naked with said skating legend’s panties on his head, just because he misunderstood a joking remark (Of course I’m not as flexible as you! But they- Sha… Chihoko, they’re so flexible, and gold glittering, always stretched into the Boston crab position… So unforgettable, on top of Hasetsu Castle) as Yuuri talking about a mythical ex who dared to be more flexible than him. “I thought I knew everything about him,” he sniffles prettily on the delicate cashmere, smearing it with snot as an horrified Chris pats him on the arm “Who is this person? This Shi- Chihoko?!”
Catch the same Viktor Nikiforov ignoring that it’s cold as balls and climbing up the tallest building in Hasetsu, butt naked and everything because he has nothing to hide and everything to prove, flexing his heart (and still more than acceptable pecs, thank you very much) out and bellowing “This person may be Yuuri’s past, but I am his now!”
Enter a flushed, very hangover Katsuki Yuuri, who had to run there, just in time to hear Viktor yelling at the top of his lungs, “IS THIS BETTER THAN CHIHOKO” confused as to who the hell is this Chihoko guy, and why exactly is his fiancé trying to become a replica of the shachi placed atop of Hasetsu Castle again?
“He thinks Chihoko is your ex,” someone suspiciously sounding like a delighted Phichit supplies, followed by the shutter of a camera.
Yuuri takes a deep breath, blushes wildly just thinking about what he’s going to say. “I could search the whole world, nobody is better than you!”
And there Viktor is, a determinate, intimately smitten expression written all over his face, as he sniffles from the cold, fixing him with a fierce gaze and “Yuuri,” he pleads, “Strip and join me here!”
Let it be said that Katsuki Yuuri really, really loves Viktor Nikiforov, because even as he lets out a long suffering whine, he’s already reaching for the hem of his shirt and pep talking himself into public humiliation.
“What the actual fuck,” Yurio screeches, and Otabek places a hand over his shoulder and drags him away.