MUAHAHAHHAHAHAHA I HAVE COME TO MAKE YOU SUFFER WHY YOU ASK BECAUSE I WILL MAKE YOU CHOOSE BETWEEN THREE EQUALLY HORRIFIC AND BEAUTIFULLY CHALLENGING HEADCANONS WHICH YOU ARE EITHER GOING TO LOVE OR HATE -OLD VIKTUURI AND ONE OF THEM IS IN THEIR DEATH BED AND THEY FLASHBACK - VIKTOR HAVING AN ACCIDENT AND BEING TAKEN OFF THE ICE FOREVER - I W A N T T H E D E A T H O F T H E D O G Btw Sof, I love you. I don't even think I'm ready to read what you'll write; I just love the way you do it <3
OK FIRST OF ALL HOW DARE YOU?? Secondly: I don’t know who I hate the most, you for requesting this, or me for actually choosing the worst option.
“I’m really sorry, Mr. Katsuki”
The words didn’t sound as painful as he had thought they would be. In fact, they had no effect. They felt empty, numb, like an emotional placebo.
He knew it would happen eventually, he had prepared himself for it for the last few months. The impact of the news couldn’t compare to the shock and the dread of finding out he was sick. Those had been the real bad news. That had been the day, that his happy ever after was given an expiration date.
“It’s ok, I understand”
He walked into the room slowly, ignoring the kind offers of the nurse asking if he needed anything, and followed what had been his ritual for the past three months. He hanged his coat on the wooden chair’s backrest, and used the support of his walking stick to help him sit down, facing the man that was lying on top of the bed, white, so white, that Yuuri almost lost him within the hospital bedsheets. He licked his creased lips, he hadn’t realized he was trembling until he reached for his husband’s hand and saw himself shaking. It was then or never; he knew the sedatives wouldn’t take long to kick in and, once he fell asleep, he wouldn’t wake up again.
He stroked the back of his hand, and the man opened his eyes lazily, blinking a few times. There was that spark of icy blue, the contrast of color against all the whiteness. His eyes were the only thing that were still the same, that hadn’t fall pray of the effects of old age, and popped out young and beautiful from the wrinkly skin of his face. Yuuri couldn’t stop staring at them, couldn’t stop himself from praising what was still left, what had felt so inflexible and familiar for almost sixty years of marriage. He saw him smile, new folds drawing on his cheeks and the corner of his mouth, and felt his fingers responding to the touch.
Usually, then would come the “how are you doing?” question, but that day he didn’t feel like asking it. He didn’t want to hear the answer. He kept looking at him, having so much to say and yet nothing at all. Love and grief kept cancelling each other inside his mouth and in the end he couldn’t speak, just stare, and hold his hand in his.
So, unable to find a proper replacement for his routine, which he knew would become even harder after that day, he waited in silence until it was Viktor who spoke again.
“You really are beautiful, you know?” He said, voice groggy and tired, and Yuuri couldn’t even fake a snort. Instead, he sighed, and caressed up his bony arm.
“Don’t say stupid things. We are old”
“But you are” He insisted, smiling that silly heart-shaped smile of his that was so ridiculously contagious “You will always be beautiful in my eyes”
“I’m all wrinkly”
“Just like a tasty raisin” He joked.
“You know I always liked your squishy belly”
“My hair is grey”
“Hey, we match!” He coughed a chuckle “Hasn’t mine always been?”
Yuuri grinned, tracing his fingers on the familiar silver locks, now so much thinner and whiter, but still soft and absurdly soothing. He couldn’t help but remember just how concerned his husband had been all his life about his growing hairline. And now, even though scarce and shorter, he still had hair on top of his head.
He unconsciously played with his ring, kind of big for his now scrawny fingers, only staying in place because of the way the wrinkled flesh had molded to it after so many years. If he moved it a bit, he could see even paler skin beneath. A permanent print, eternal, drawn on him forever.
“I love you” He said, although he knew it meant nothing. It never meant anything. He already knew he loved him, in fact, he knew that phrase couldn’t even cover his adoration in the slightest. But there was something musical in it, poetic. It wasn’t the meaning what brought them close whenever he said it, but maybe the intention, the drive, the need. He needed to tell him he loved him. It wasn’t a declaration, they had got over confessions way too long ago already. It was more like a symbol, a piece of art, something pretty and enchanting to rejoice in. And that’s exactly why he felt like saying it right then “I love you, so much”
“I love you too, solnyshko” Viktor closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and Yuuri could see him grimace with effort “I really want to kiss you, but I don’t think I can move right now”
“You can always ask” He hadn’t meant his voice to sound like a sob, but it did. And as he leaned in to kiss his lips, softly, lovingly, without paying attention to his sore back, he feared he may start crying. He didn’t.
“Don’t give me that face…I’m ok, Yuuri”
“No you are not”
“I am, I am happy” He said, closing his eyes, feeling the soft touch of his husband’s hand as it cupped his cheek “You made me a happy man, love. You gave me a good life”
“Viktor…” Yuuri tried to speak, but his voice cracked and the sentence broke.
“It was always you…” He whispered, his lips felt heavy, and so did his lids “Remember the cup of China, when I was twenty-seven and you were twenty-three?”
“Of course” He nodded “Our first kiss”
“And the wedding? Remember how Yurio got drunk?”
They both laughed softly, ironically, clenching their tangled hands.
“I could never forget that. I remember everything, every second I lived by your side” He stroked his cheek “The honeymoon, the competitions, adopting Lori…and then, even after we retired, everything we did together”
“Our trip to Paris…”
“That was wonderful”
“You see? How could I not be happy?” Yuuri still couldn’t get it, he couldn’t understand why the weary grin on his lips was genuine. It was ludicrous. “It’s all thanks to you. And you know why?” his husband asked, smiling cheekily and turning to kiss the palm of his hand “Because you taught me the meaning of Life and Love”
“Hmm?” He sucked his lips inwards, seeing how the other’s breath got slower and slower with every passing second and how his eyes lost focus “And what’s the meaning?”
“Life may not be eternal…” He closed his lids, giving his hand one soft, shaky squeeze “But Love is”
In that moment, Yuuri saw his face falling gently to rest on the side of the pillow and the grip on his fingers ceased. Every muscle relaxed and his lips, cold and pale, blew against his palm a deep, warm breath. The last one.
Only then, Yuuri allowed himself to cry.
Two weeks later, he was admitted into hospital. Lori had insisted he moved in with her, but he couldn’t even consider it before he fell sick. Medics couldn’t do more but prologue the inevitable, and after the long course of a month, Yuuri Katsuki closed his eyes for good. He passed away some windy December evening, in the company of his loving daughter, and washed over by a feeling of unexplainable peace. And right before, when reality got foggy and melted into the memories of his husband, his voice, calling for him…he finally understood. And he felt happy, too.
I hate myself