Viktor had a relationship once- why not? He’s hot and people confuse him and his usage of mascara- when he was young. The details are blurry to Viktor these days, but he was too excited and he was delusional with the prospect of love back then, almost a cringe worthy moment for Viktor when he remembers these things late at night.
It was how you would imagine it. Viktor, looking back on it now, wondered how seemingly enthusiastic he managed to be in the two year long crusty ‘relationship’ they had. There were these little sprinkles of affection, shy blushes and the kind of exploration young crazy teenagers do during their young crazy lives, but there was nothing special about it.
He was an art major. Viktor figured they were compatible, two pieces of puzzles sliding together in delusional harmony, with Viktor’s artistry out on the ice and his on his canvas.
What made him special, amongst the other folders of exes he had locked away in a metaphorical file cabinet, was the fact that he was the one who stayed the longest.
Viktor was a fucking whirlwind. Nobody could keep up his tiresome training schedules, his absent meals, the long hours spent at the rink. His ex wrung it out as far as possible, trying hard to be understanding and patient at first, until finally, he broke.
“You’re… You’re too much.” He finally hisses after another failed date night. Viktor doesn’t have the heart to deny the statement. “You’re fucking selfish. You… You revolve around nothing but the ice! No hobbies, no ambitions, nothing but that stupid gold fucking medal you always win anyways.”
Viktor doesn’t flinch, doesn’t feel anything at all. He was right. He was right.
“And then what? What happens when your body tires out, huh Viktor? What happens if you lose?” He says, there are tears brimming his eyes. Viktor doesn’t have the heart to well up a tear. “I tell you, you’ll regret it. You will have nothing.”
When he walks out the door, Viktor realized that he had nothing the whole time Not even the satisfaction of being complete.
When Chris asks him if he had any plans to get into a relationship anytime soon, he’d laugh. I don’t have the time. He’ll say. Nobody is willing to stay. His mind pleads.
And then comes Yuuri.
He realizes many things: Yuuri was an even bigger whirlwind. He was deadly and dangerous and beautiful, Viktor had felt the thrill of standing in the eye of a storm when he holds Yuuri’s hand, when he sees his smile. He was beautiful. He was deadly.
Yuuri spends even more time in the rink than him, eyes focused and determined and Viktor watches in awe from the side because he felt like he just got crushed by an avalanche and Yuuri wasn’t even breaking a goddamn sweat. He was fragile and strong, loud and quiet, an enigma Viktor has yet to solve.
Yuuri was beautiful. Yuuri was perfect.
He’s perfect when he takes Makkachin out for walks, when he looks over his shoulder and tosses Viktor a teasing little smile, when he wakes up in the morning with bed hair and crusty eyes, when he’s crying and broken and Viktor doesn’t know what the fuck to do and Yuuri calls his bullshit out for it, when he skates, when he lets Viktor hold him, when he’s Viktor’s.
Yuuri was his.
Yuuri would stay.
One day, while in a hotel bar as he waits for his dearest, he spots someone across from him with the eyes of a ghost from his past.
“I’m opening up a gallery somewhere.” He says when Viktor asks the standard how are you out of sheer politeness. He hasn’t changed, maybe getting edgier and manlier, finally not the young art major he used to be. He has grown. Viktor has grown too.
“The… The Japanese man. Is he…?”
Viktor smiles, purposely setting his hand on the marble counter to show off the gleam in the golden band. The memory of Yuuri sends another warm flutter in Viktor’s heart. God, it’s been years. “Engaged.”
He smiles and nods, seemingly happy for them.
“You love him, truly.”
Viktor purses his lips around his glass. Of course he does, why wouldn’t he? Yuuri was kind and beautiful and smart and all his.
“The moment I mentioned him… you looked like the happiest man in the world.” He says, shaking the glass in his hand, swirling the amber contents. Viktor does not feel any resentment in his voice, but he feels cautious at the incoming topic. “You’re truly happy. It’s amazing.”
Viktor narrows his eyes, just for a fraction. “What made you think I wasn’t?”
He raises an eyebrow. Are you fucking kidding me? Viktor couldn’t blame him. “Your eyes shine, you perk up, and hell, I didn’t even notice that your smile was heart shaped before. Now your grin is bigger than ever.”
Viktor cracks a smile, leaning back against the counter.
He sets the glass down, smiling softly. “I’m happy for you.”
Viktor’s happy too. Truly. He was right. And for once, he was glad that he didn’t decide to stay.
“Do you want to come to the wedding?” It was a little weird to invite your ex to your wedding, but Viktor wasn’t one to follow social norms.
He accepts before finally leaving, one last goodbye between them.
Yuuri finally arrives a few moments later, cheeks flushed and burrowed adorably under a scarf. God knows how torturous Russian weather can be. “Who was that?”
Viktor smiles, kissing Yuuri’s knuckles before lacing their fingers together. “No one of importance.”
During their wedding, Yuuri dips him in for a kiss. Viktor never wanted to let go of the moment, but they crumble on the floor laughing. Chris was discreetly installing a pole in the banquet room and he had to prevent tears more than five times in the past two hours. Yurio resentfully gives him tissues from the sidelines
Viktor might’ve thought that he’ll never get the satisfaction of being complete, thought that he’ll never stop being a whirlwind, but Yuuri carries him away and swept him off his feet, launching him into the air laughing and giggling.
He spots him in the crowd, talking to the girl he brought with him- possibly his now girlfriend, Viktor thinks she’s lovely- and they connect gazes.
He smiles, raises a glass like a toast.
Viktor raises his own glass back.
Viktor was happy. Viktor was complete. Viktor was satisfied.