— Idea came from a song, turning page, by sleeping at last.
⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀It's been two months since your split with a figure skater, better known as Viktor Nikiforov, and you were absolutely heartbroken. It wasn't an actual breakup, you left, leaving a note saying only a few words.
I wish you the best. I'm sorry I wasn't enough. I love you. Yours truly, [First Name], you won't find me home.
Although he was your main income, You've been doing well, still working as a pianist.
You were also his pianist. His muse. His girlfriend.
You guessed he didn't acknowledged that.
Your fingers glided over the keys, not making a noise. You brushed your [color] bangs out of your eyes and looked at your composed music for his routines. River Flows In You, De Flore, all these songs.
He's never heard of the music for his next routine, you've been telling him what parts to skate, without the music, It was difficult but it turned out amazing. You were to surprise him with the music.
You had asked a friend to help you compose the music. "So, what are you aiming for?" [Male Friend's Name] questioned, sitting next to you on the piano bench. "Something that is specific to only him, I want this song to speak my feelings for him." You replied. He smiled, "how about you make the lyrics and I sing it for you."
"That would be great! Thank you [Male Friend's Name]!" You hugged him and bolted off. You soon composed a perfect piece for him.
You never got to give it to him. The day you held the piece in your hands was the day he laced his arms around another waist and kissed the woman at a extravagant party, the party you weren't allowed to go due to your status. You saw it on the news, the headlines and newspapers. It was also the night you left him.
You didn't know he looked everywhere for you. As soon as he lifted the note off the desk he bolted out of the house. His everything was about to leave him. He ran through rain, skipped practice, even posted posters to find you. You were gone. He lost everything. He song got back to skating but he was never the same.
You held the flight tickets to Tokyo for his Grand Prix finals. Although you both split, you promised him that you would be there for him on the biggest day of his career. Coming off the plane, you felt the wisp of cold air hit your skin. It was amazing. You only had a few hours until the Grand Prix finals.
Viktor wasn't nervous. This was the day he was going to scream out his lover's name and confess his feelings, his actions. He wanted to wrap you up in his arms. He wanted to explain to you that it was a publicity stunt, that it was all for the cameras.
One good-girl is worth a thousand females.
You had whispered to the composers, your friends, who were in shock to see you, and handed them your music, Turning Page. You gave him your piece and went on to find the closest seat to the rink. You made sure your seat was unnoticeable to the skaters on the rink. "Hey do you know where the– [First Name]! Mmmh." Yuuri, Katsuki Yuuri, said, muffled by your hand. "Hey Yuuri, I've missed you." You hugged him.
"Up next, Viktor Nikiforov! Skating to A thousand- wait, no! Turning page, composed by his past lover, [First Name] [Last Name]!" Viktor's cobalt eyes widen, hearing your name. He got out of his pose and glided his eyes over the audience, trying to find you but he couldn't. He soon got back to his pose and started.
"Triple toe loop, one jump, double toe loop combination."
Nothing prepared me for the privilege of being yours.
Hu hugged himself before throwing his hands sideways and skating the opposite direction, like he was pushing someone away. He did a quadruple flip, followed by a quadruple Salchow and more difficult jumps and combinations.
"Next will be a triple axel. Wait, what?! Was that a quadruple axel? It was! It had enough rotations although his left hand touched the ice." You gasped, he's the first man to do that and he made it!
The song ended.
His pose includes him pointing at you, and he probably doesn't know he was, and his panting body beating, before he fell to his knees. You ran to the rink, he looked up, noticing the sounds of footsteps. He gasped, noticing a small bundle of beauty bolting to the rink entrance.
"Oh my god! [First Name]!" He cried, gliding, blasting quickly into your arms. Instead of feeling his body over yours, you were on top of him, your lips placed on top of his.
That created an uproar of yodels and applause.
"[First Name]. . ." He murmured once both lips detached for each other. "You created history Viktor! That was amazing! A quadruple axel! And only touching one hand on the ice!" You screeched. Suddenly, you remembered. You probably accidentally kissed a taken man. You thought Viktor was taken already. "I miss you." He chocked out, tears falling from his cobalt eyes. "I-I miss you too Viktor!" You cried, wrapping your arms around his neck, digging your face into his neck.
"I know now what I've been living for, it's you," Viktor said, helping you stand up, "please, come back to me."
You hugged him close once again. "Of coarse Viktor."
