His chocolate eyes glimmered with eagerness as he watched, eyes following, the silver haired, lanky man glide across the ice. Yuuri adored him; he looked up to Victor, and promised himself that he would skate on the same ice as his idol.
But when the days fell off the calander, night after night, the raven-haired young adult would huddle beneath his blankets, breath hitching and face flushing.
Weightless. Victor flew across the ice, arms out like an elegant dove, long silver hair flowing neatly behind him, brushed away by the flow of speed. Beautiful.
Untouchable.
Yuuri wasn't sure when he decided he would go back on his promise, but since Victor became his coach - that dream was stupid. He was fruitlessly lying to himself, tongue twisting between its words, clumping them into spitless messes.
He could never, ever beat him.
"Yuuri!"
The loud, obnoxious smacking on the door combined with Victor's heavy accent caused Yuuri to sit up, shoving the fluffy blanket off his head and grab his glasses, adjusting them. "Huh?"
As if it was an invitation, Victor opened the door, closing it behind him. He held up his forefinger, pointing it in front of him as he walked closer to the bed. Yuuri could clearly see his almost perfectly cured nails.
"What's with the finger-"
The muscular, shirtless man cut him off like he wasn't even speaking. "One week!"
"For what?" Yuuri knew what. Obnoxious and careless questions were Victor's speciality, but now Yuuri was filling that role.
That question earned Yuuri a hard whack on the back of the head, knocking his glasses to the tip of his nose. When did Victor even get that close?
"The competition!" Victor took his outstretched hand and rubbed his lips with the palm of his hand.
Yuuri dejectedly glanced over to the side, starting at the tainted white sheets that got darker with each wash.
"What's wrong?"
"It's nothing." Yuuri replied to Victor's soft question; softer than anything he'd ever heard - but common for Victor's voice.
"Jitters again?" Victor sat down on the bed, next to Yuuri, as the mattress twisted to form a comfortable sit for each of the men. "I thought you'd be over that by now."
That comment wasn't made with malice. Victor was terrible with comfort, so much so, that the thought of Victor actually comforting him was hilarious. It made him happy to know that he was acknowledged.
But how long? How long would this go on for?
"I thought so. I guess I'm just worried about messing up again."
"All your other performances have been solid perfection, Yuuri. Don't go doubting yourself now."
"Don't go acting like my coach now, either, Victor."
Both cracked a smile, and Victor smushed Yuuri into a hug. His wiry arms were wrapped firmly against Victor's burly back, which did not appear that way at a distance.
<3
"Yuuri, you're the last one out there. Do great, okay?"
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Beneath The Singing Moon - Victuuri Fanfiction
Fanfiction"If I can't compete against you, let me compete with you." <<<<<<<<<3 Victor Nikiforov finally returns to the ice after several months of hiding from the rink, and he's even more of a daunting competitor than Yuuri could've even imagined. Not willin...
