Without Him [Victuuri Fanfic]

Chapter 2

Knock. Knock.

It came from my door. "Yuri, you okay?" There was a voice on the other side of the door. "Please come eat."

I didn't reply.

The door opened, and a bright ray of light interrupted the darkness in my room. A dark figure stepped into my room, but I didn't care to acknowledge it.

"Yuri, please. Mom's worried about you."

My older sister climbed onto my bed, sitting on the edge. I felt her hand squeeze my shoulder.

"I'm not hungry," I answered her, unable to prevent the cracking of my voice. I still refused to face her. I didn't want her to see my tears.

She didn't protest like mom would have. Instead, she hooked one arm around the back of my neck, the other around my back. My torso was pulled up off of the mattress so that I was sitting up, and it wasn't let back down. My sister held me tightly, allowing my head to rest on her shoulder.

"We've been watching the news this morning," she said, her voice beginning to fall apart too. "And we haven't heard anything about him."

It had become our daily ritual — watching the news to make sure there was no report on his death. What were we supposed to think?

"I don't understand, Mari," I sobbed.

If something bad happened to him it would be all over the news. So had he just forgotten about us? About me?

"He said it would just be a week, I don't understand."

"I know, Yuri. I know," my sister cried along with me. "It has to be a misunderstanding."

Viktor was such a magnetic person, how could he just disappear? He went back to Russia for one week after the Grand Prix Final to visit his parents, but that week turned into a month. A month with no calls, no texts, nothing to say he was even alive.

Nothing to say he still cared about me, or anyone else in my family who he had become so close with.

That day went on as every other day. I stayed in my room, staring at the ceiling, occasionally grabbing my phone to scroll blindly through various social medias. My sister brought food for me to eat around lunch time, but I didn't touch it until much later. I had no interest in watching tv, going to the hot springs, or even practicing in the rink. I just didn't care anymore.

I could only wonder — was he hurting too? No, if it hurt him to be away from me, he wouldn't have left. But he seemed so sad when he left, even though he was only (supposedly) leaving for a week, he cried and promised he would come back to me as quickly as possible. Where did that promise go?

He promised me.

You promised me, Victor.

You lied to me, Victor.

Didn't you say we were going to get married?

Was that a lie too?

Were you trying to tease me? Was it funny?

No, he wasn't teasing me.

Victor loves me. He loved me. He still did, didn't he?

Either way, I still loved him. Bastard.

No, don't call him a bastard.

Bzzzzzzz—

Victor wasn't bad...

Bzzzzzzz—

Maybe he was hurting...

Bzzzzzzz—

Victor, where are you?

Bzzzzzzz—

Dark. My eyes were open, but I couldn't see anything. How long had they been closed?

Bzzzzzzz

It was my phone. Why would anyone be calling me? Either way, I stretched as far as I could to pick up my phone, not bothering to look at the caller ID.

"Hello?" I croaked. Whoever was on the other side didn't speak, but I could hear the hum of tires rolling across smooth pavement in the background. "Hello?" I asked tentatively.

The voice that replied made my heart drop.

"Yuri?"

I didn't want to believe it, but the voice was so familiar. It was broken. Why was it broken? No, it wasn't him.

But the way he said my name; only one person ever said it so softly.

"Victor?" I asked as every muscle in my body became stone. I couldn't decide what I wanted the reply to be. I had to be dreaming, this couldn't be real.

"Yuri," he repeated, but his voice only cracked and fell apart this time. I heard him draw in a quick breath before forcing it out, and repeating the same action with a strangled whine. "Yuri—... Yuri where are you?"

He was sobbing.

"Victor, what's wrong? Are you okay?" I asked, my throat beginning to painfully constrict my air. "Victor, what happened?" The last two words came out in feeble squeaks.

I wanted to rip my phone from my ear, to look at the caller ID to see if it really was him, but I couldn't. I couldn't move my arm. I couldn't move my wrist. The only part of my body that moved was my ribcage, which shook as I began weeping.

"Where are you?" He insisted, "Yuri, are you home?" I heard him gasp for air between phrases.

"Yes," I felt a tear race down my neck, "Yes, I'm home." Another sob shook my ribcage. It had become painful.

"Stay," he replied, "stay there." I heard the shaky breath that filled his lungs. "I'm so sorry..."

His last words were followed by silence. Not only his silence, I couldn't hear the background noise either. My heart dropped again, and panic began to replace my shock.

"Victor?" I asked, listening as closely as I could for any kind of reply. "Victor? Can you hear me?"

There was still no reply.

After asking and asking with no answer, I finally ripped my phone away from my ear to look at the screen. It was black, save for a red battery icon.

My phone was dead.