Beneath The Singing Moon - Victuuri Fanfiction

9/The Platinum-Haired Skater

The fascination.

The tears that fell with the bruised ankles, with the cuts that bled a crimson red so beautifully, all of it was pure adoration to Victor Nikiforov.

His name grew, gold metals weighing heavily on his heart rather his neck, with skin and skates that graced the eyes of anybody who stared in his direction.

As a figure skater, his job was to fascinate the audience with the same dream that would come to him each night, and he would live up to the expectations set like a hurtling bar.

But as he sat there, eyes glaring out at the grey-tinted sky, Yuri sat across from him, the plastic aching his body.

Victor didn't dare collapse. The falling was natural, but he'd always analyzed his dreams carefully; making sure they're not mediocre - that they're realistic and within reach. But now, he was chained to the hospital bed, swearing he broke a bone as the ankle pain he'd been feeling grew.

Finally sucking it up, he tore off his pride like a piece of armor, and got an x-ray preformed. The results would take too long; Victor was impatient.

And Yuri just watched, clueless.

<3

It was harder to put his skates on. As the contestants grouped, women of many ages talked; some had curly hair and dark skin, some light skin and short hair, all were different.

Yuuri stood out the most.

Many were teens, 17 - to be precise. And while Yuuri didn't bat an eye in their direction, he would give it all, whether Victor was there to look him in the eyes, or not.

But the thought weighed at him like several tons; the realization strong. Heavy. He was still only 23, Victor was 27. More experience, more trust in his career.

And after he attempted to drop out, Victor got back in, not daring to stick a tongue out and scoff after Yuuri told him he didn't want to compete in anymore singles.

Li-Hua had braided his hair for him. Beautifully; a thin bow atop a clean ponytail.

An exaggerated example of Victor's old hairstyle.

Yuuri and the girl with flaxen hair weren't close by any means, but she'd followed him to her home country, a newfound respect for defeating her.

The glare that Yuuri thought was overanaluzation, was drastically different; and now he could see it laced with fascination and admiration.

<3

We all skate for different reasons.

Yuuri did his routine, clear; cleanly. Messing up in the second half, he kept going, speeding up, making a point with the confidence in his stokes that forced him to maintain top form.

He was skating for Victor; anybody who'd looked his direction could see it. It was anxiety enducing, petrifying that Victor wasn't there to support him, but Yuuri didn't mess around.

He didn't know what he was fighting for - why he went when Victor couldn't. Why he bothered. But he'd let his coach down once, dare he not do it again.

Yuuri Katsuki would win, and finally skate on the same ice as Victor.

<3

"We've detected a fracture right around your lateral malleolus. The bony knob right outside of your ankle. Did you fall on it wrong by chance?"

"It wouldn't have hurt now if I did."