For Day 7 of @yoifantasyweek
Victor’s eyes stared back from the mirror.
Victor’s hair. Victor’s lips. Victor’s shoulders. Victor’s pink cheeks. Victor’s sharp jawline. Victor’s pale skin – all Victor, in every aspect, every detail perfect and exact. Except for the fear that shimmered in his gaze, eyes watering with unshed, salty tears. The usual cerulean blue of his irises was ice chipped with panic, eyes blown wide as a gasp bolted through his barely parted lips. Yuuri imagined that was how Victor must have looked when it had happened. He’d never know for sure.
Red blossomed over the front of Victor’s crisp white shirt in the mirror’s reflection. Yuuri couldn’t tell if it was real or not. It looked real.
But he more than most knew that things weren’t always as simple as they appeared.
The reflection blurred.
Skin bubbled. Hair moved. Bones shifted. Cell by cell, Victor disappeared in the mirror, replaced with dark hair, tan skin, and round cheeks. The eyes were last to go; the clear blue darkened like an ink drop in water, black spilling from the pupils like the darkest pitch.
Wrath stared back where Victor had once stood just a moment ago. Narrowed black eyes glared down his reflection, shoulders tense, tendon jumping in the side of his neck with barely contained fury. Dark obsidian claws tipped his fingers in place of Victor’s perfectly manicured nails, black glistening with dark promise in the moonlight spilling through the window.
Wrath, in the form of Yuuri Katsuki.
A door shut somewhere in the house.
He was home.
Yuuri stood up from his chair, casting one last glance at the mirror as if Victor might suddenly just be there, like he might get one last glimpse of his lover before he set the world on fire. There was no Victor though. There was only Yuuri, stood alone and bitter in the reflection.
Victor was gone.
And he wasn’t coming back.
Anger bubbled up inside Yuuri, hands curling until the tips of his razor sharp claws dug into his palms. He barely flinched as they pierced the skin, didn’t blink at the blood dripping off his fingertips.
Victor was gone.
And Yuuri wasn’t going to rest until he’d slain every last hunter for stealing his love away.
A trail of blood followed him as he turned on his heel, silent as he slipped through the house like a shadow. The hunter’s scream was piercing. It was almost too easy. So easy that Yuuri’s blood still burned fierce with rage and blood lust by the time it was done, barely sated. Red dripped through the floorboards - just as it had done in that warehouse where Yuuri had finally found Victor only a few days ago, knife still buried deep in his heart.
The pain hadn’t gone away. Yuuri wasn’t sure if it would ever go away. He would never see Victor again, save for the shift of his own skin into the form his lover had once held.
It wasn’t enough.
The night ran red with blood.