Yuri!!! On Ice Oneshots (Mostly Victuuri and Otayuri)

The Rain Was Warmer

⚠️ TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️

You have been warned

~~~

"You left me."

*drip drip*

"You left me when I needed you most."

*boom*

"I was already broken. You knew that. And you still walked away."

A strand of platinum hair feel into Victor's vision. He didn't bother pushing it out if the way: he knew it would be futile. What was the point anyways? The raindrops that fell down his cheeks flowed freely, no longer bothered him. His cheeks had become numb.

As had his heart.

He no longer shivered against the chilled wind that blew. He no longer jumped at the sudden cracks of thunder. He no longer wiped away the raindrops that trickled down his face. His body refused to respond to any outside movement. He was just there, in a state that some could argue as unliving. Devoid of all meaning. His eyes watched as the barely-used cigarette slipped from his blue hands, disappearing into the angry waves below. No, he hadn't watched it. It had been nothing but a a facade put in by his brain. Still, he could no longer feel the cigarette in his hand, so he assumed that was what had happened. At this point, what was real and what was a movie if the mind had blended into one.

His eyes were fixed out towards the endless circle plane of blue that stretched out underneath him. This bridge, which had once been a spot of comfort to him, was now nothing more then a bunch of hollow bricks plastered together. Meaningless. Shallow. Replaceable.

No eyes fell on the man, hunched on the railing staring out to the sea. Nobody dared wander out in such disgusting conditions. Rain feel from the sky in chunks of numbing water. Tress swayed from the relentless wind that refused to give up. Each raindrop felt like needle against bare skin, sending sharp stings up nerves that were too numb to care.

Even if any eyes had fallen on the former skater, they wouldn't have seen him. Not truly.

They would have seen Victor Nikiforov, a god on the frozen plains of ice. An epitome of perfection. The man who was always smiling. The face of fame. A light in the darkness.

All those nicknames were lies. Stupid. Arrogant. He rejected each one as they came.

At least those were all in the past. Years old. How old he couldn't remember. Not that he cared to: his mind refused to look back at those darkened times. Those times when, every day, he wore a mask. A mask made of lies, forced upwards. A smile.

If that's what you could call it. It's certainly not what it was to Victor. To him, it was a lie.

Lie
LIE

Lie
LIE

LIE

LIE

LIE

"You lied"

"For years you lied to me."

"Did I mean nothing to you??"

"Was it trust?"

"..."

"What did I do?"