youre so clingy

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by asiandirtbag

by asiandirtbag

11 years old

"god, vitya, can you just leave me alone?" my mother groaned, shrugging out of my grip on her hand. "you're just so damn clingy."
my arms dropped to my sides.
clingy.

14 years old

"do you.. not want.. to kiss me?" i asked the boy, the boy who had been hinting for almost a year. secret flirts, gripping hands underneath seats, staring at lips as we walked home.
"look... viktor.. i do, i really really do, but i don't want you to think that this makes us boyfriends. you're too clingy for that... i mean you're already on my arm all the time and even my mom asked me if i was gay last night. i can't have people looking at me the way they look at you."
i looked away because he was right and i knew it. "you can still kiss me if you want," he added. my head told me no, don't, you'll look even more desperate. my heart replied, does it even matter at this point? and i leaned in with tears running down my cheeks.

17 years old

"i mean... i guess it's okay- but only because you look like a girl and you like, ice skate and shit. i don't think anyone will notice we're both guys," my boyfriend of four months shrugged as we walked down the street after i asked if i could hold his hand.
"so you just see me as a girl?" i asked, laughing a little, wondering why i was laughing and why i still grabbed his hand.
"in some ways," he replied, "yeah. i mean you're really clingy, shorter than me, and have long hair and kind of a girlish face. if you'd just tone it down on the muscles, then we'd look like a normal couple."

19 years old

staring in the mirror, trying to disregard all of the long pieces of hair in the sink, i set down the scissors carefully. words from the tv echoed in my ears.
"nikiforov was seen arguing with a partner on the streets of st. petersburg earlier in the day. while the grand national champion and three time olympic gold medalist is nowhere to be seen, an interview stated that the man had been arguing with viktor for being 'clingy and too sensitive'."
i looked in the mirror and straightened my shirt, wiping away bits of tears at the corner of my eyes. "fuck them all," i say. "fuck them all."

21 years old

the journalist had been asking stupid questions, the usual introductory ones that everyone already knew, when she asked, "so, mr. nikiforov, if i may ask, why is it that in these past few years it seems that your personality has changed drastically? although polite, you seem cold and distant towards your fan base and competitors. when you first started out on the ice, you had been known for how friendly and open you were to everyone. would you like to comment?"
it felt frozen inside my head, because she had been absolutely right, but i simply replied, "i just got more serious about this thing." and that was it. my voice was hard and monotone, but inside my heart was burning. please, fix this, my heart told me. isn't this what you wanted? my head replied.

25 years old

the days got lonelier. the nights were a gift- where i could sleep and forget and dream.
"could you at least pretend to like me, viktor? jesus, show some emotion every once in a while." my partner of two years said every night after mediocre sex and an expensive dinner.
"look," i always said back, "you said you wanted a luxury. and i gave you one. you can have anything you want, go anywhere you want. you're welcome for this. you asked for this."
they looked at the ground. "you promised me love," they mumble.
"no, i didn't," i reply, "i would never promise something so pathetic."

27 years old

"vitya, could you please come help with this?"
stepping into the kitchen, i see yuuri trying to reach the tea bags up on the top shelf, barely being able to reach. i smiled a little, and easily picked them up, placing them in his hands.
"thank you, love," he says, and kisses my cheek, which i automatically turn away from as a reflex. i see his smile disappear for a split second before returning to his face, a bit lower than before.
"im sorry. im trying," i tell him, putting my hands on his waist, my palms burning.
"i know you are. im so grateful for that. im so grateful for you. i love you," he whispers, and hugs me tightly.

28 years old

"i just don't want to be clingy," is my excuse for untangling our hands in the street. yuuri stops, and i sigh, turning to look at him to see stern eyes with his arms crossed across his chest.
"viktor, being clingy isn't a bad thing. it means you just have a lot of love to share, and i don't want you to keep putting yourself down for it! i've grown up with hearing about your life on tv, and i've seen you turn into this person who isn't you. and i'm proud of you. im proud of us, and i want to hold hands with my damn fiancé down the street! now get back here, kiss me, and then hold my hand because that's what people who love each other do. and you love me. a lot. and i love you. a lot."
and that's just what i do.

hey y'all idk just thought this was a little short somthin. hope u had a good holiday