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Chapter Text

“Uh, Yuuri? How long has Viktor Nikiforov been following you on Instagram?”

Yuuri looks up in surprise from his script, pen still poised in hand, “What are you talking about?”.

Phichit leans across their dingy table, phone in hand, to show what's on the screen. His chair squeaks obnoxiously as he moves, which causes Yuuri to feel immediately on edge. This only intensifies when Phicht shoves his way too bright screen way too close to his face. “Look!” Almost unconsciously, Yuuri jerks his head away from the sudden intrusion into his personal space. Fortunately for him, and unlike Yuuri himself, Phichit is actually able to read body language and therefor notices his friends annoyance. He mumbles a lighthearted apology before holding the phone farther from Yuuri's face.

Yuuri adjusts the thin golden frame of his glasses to better see what Phichit is failing to show him. Yuuri is met with the image of his very own Instagram page. He studies it, not quite sure what he’s meant to be looking at. After finding nothing, Yuuri looks up at Phichit with sincere confusion, “Why are you stalking my Instagram?”

Phichit's dark eyebrows furrow, “Um, I think that’s kind of besides the point, Yuuri.” He shoves his finger towards the part of the screen that shows who is following Yuuri that Phichit also follows. He taps his finger up and down while making “huh?” noises and sporting a pair of wide, almost crazed eyes, “Did you not hear what I said? THE Viktor Nikiforov is following you!”

Yuuri squints harder at the screen and finally registers what Phichit is trying to show him. Right under the part of Yuuri’s profile that says, “he\him, lover of movies and art, thank you for your continued support”, are big, bold, black letters that read, “Followed by v-nikiforov, mar.kat and 10 others”. Yuuri stares at those words, not quite sure of how to respond. Surprisingly he can't seem to muster up feelings of much about anything, so he just goes back to staring at the marked up script that rests in front of him. This is what he really needs to be focusing on right now anyway. He raises his pen to finish what is hopefully his last round of notes, and mumbles out a disinterested, “Okay.”

The silence is long and surprisingly loud as Yuuri feels Phichit's overly intense eyes bore into the top of his head. His hand holding the phone stays outstretched to Yuuri as if frozen on the spot. When his voice finally does respond, it is slow and teeming with confusion, “Were you kicked in the head or something?”

A soft sigh escapes Yuuri’s mouth as he continues scratching words onto his paper. Yuuri knows that he is not easy to read. Phichit has always told him that his constant switch between straight-faced, apathetic weirdo, and dorky, smiley, bashful sweetheart has always been sudden and unpredictable. Yuuri himself has never been quite sure why those two greatly opposing sides are so overwhelming within him. But what is he supposed to do about it? That’s just who he is. Who he always has been. So he keeps his head trained on his task, and tries to respond in the most rational and reasonable way possible, “What? You’re the one who likes him.”

Phichit scoffs as if Yuuri is the most dense person in the world. And, well, maybe he is, but Yuuri can’t muster up the energy to try to understand why. Phichit finally pulls the phone away from his face and begins scrolling through it instead. Yuuri can only assume that it is Viktor’s page he is stalking now. “Well yeah,” Phichit responds as he scrolls, big hearts gracing his soft, black eyes, “but that shouldn’t matter when he is one of the biggest movie stars in Hollywood!” He sets the phone down and stares at Yuuri who is finally looking back at him, “I don’t understand how you’re not excited”.

Yuuri can’t help but to shrug. He glances down at the olive toned skin of his small hand, way too small for a guy if you ask him, and notices a hangnail. As he thinks of what to say that will properly appease Phichit, he starts to pick at the hangnail. A sliver of pain shoots through him, but he tries to ignore it. He briefly wonders if that is not the only feeling he is trying to ignore. “I don’t know,” Yuuri finally responds, “that doesn’t really mean anything to me”. Which is true, Yuuri has never been one to care for someone just because they’re famous. He and Phichit left L.A. for a reason, after all. But if he is being honest, there is something he feels for, or about, Viktor. Something small that bubbles up in him every now and then. And this conversation is definitely making it bubble up right now. “He’s just so… so…” Yuuri starts.

“Gorgeous?” Phichit interrupts.

Yuuri rolls his eyes, “Well, yeah.” That, he can’t deny. As much as he might like to.

“Charming?”

“I mean, I guess…”

“Swoon-worthy?”

Yuuri finally lands on the word he is looking for, “Uninspired.”

Phichit stills in the momentum he was starting to build up, “Uninspired?”

Yuuri kind of sinks into his seat, feeling a little bad, “I don’t know, maybe that’s not the right word”. Phichit still watches him, clearly not satisfied with what Yuuri said. But, as mean as it may have sounded, Yuuri did believe it. It’s what he thinks every single time Phichit brings him up in conversation, or every time he sees him playing the same exact role in movies. He goes back to picking at his nail, but decides to try to explain himself at least a little, “It’s just… Well, everytime I see him act, there’s just nothing there,” he picks his nail harder as he finally starts to verbalize some of these nagging thoughts. “He plays the same perfect, golden boy, hero in every single role. How is he not sick of it? How are the audiences not sick of it? I just don’t get it. Why does he even act if he’s clearly just showing up on set as himself? Well, besides for the money.” The hangnail rips off Yuuri’s finger with one final pick. He flinches as a small sliver of blood rises to the surface of his warm skin.

Phichit observes him, “Ouch, harsh.”

He knows Phichit is referring to what Yuuri just said, and not his dumb choice to rip his hangnail off. Or maybe he meant both, or maybe those two actions just coincided more than he thought. Yuuri throws the hangnail to the floor and looks back at Phichit, deciding to at least own what he said, “But true. At least in my opinion.”

“You’re cold dude,” Phichit responds incredulously, “your ‘artist’ brain needs to stop taking everything so seriously.”

For some reason this hits a slight trigger in Yuuri and he feels heat swim through his face before coming to rest in his ears. “But film is serious!" Yuuri pauses before briefly mumbling "I mean… I know comedies exist... But that’s not the point!" He tosses his hands into the air, "The point is that movies are supposed to be about opening yourself up to judgment, to fear, to, to… magic! And Viktor Nikiforov is being a coward by calling himself an artist, an actor, while he also so clearly hides every part of himself behind a thin facade of perfection, being too terrified to ever stray from it even an inch, even in make believe!” He finishes his rant with a pant, feeling a little less guilty, and a lot more justified this time. That is until he takes note of the genuine frustration on Phichit’s face.

He looks at Yuuri with his mouth set into a deep frown. Yuuri isn’t sure what to do with this new development, so he just stares at Phichit with wide eyes. He can't help but feel a bit like a child who is about to be scolded. Phichit notices Yuuri’s very evident fear, so he drops his frown and sighs instead. He leans forward on the table and rests his forehead against his balled up hands, “Okay Yuuri, I love you, but can you not tell how absolutely hypocritical you’re being?

The worry Yuuri is already feeling grows even stronger now. He doesn’t have therapy until Friday, and he is not sure he is emotionally prepared to be read by his best friend. Especially because Phichit has never been known for censoring his thoughts for anyone, let alone Yuuri. Trying to push down the urge to run with his tail between his legs to his room, Yuuri mumbles out a soft, hopefully non-confrontational, “What are you talking about?”

Phichit raises his head from his fists and drops his hands back to the table. Unlike Yuuri, he does not try to avoid eye contact whatsoever. “Well for one thing,” he starts, “you have this Instagram, with ALL these followers, and all these people who care about you and want to see you, and you have never posted a single picture of yourself. Not even the tip of your finger, or the side of your face, or a strand of your hair! It’s always pictures of flowers, or food, or a random movie you’re watching! Nobody has any idea what you look like, who you really are!” Phichit starts laughing softly as his clearly built up frustration starts to ooze out of him, “You couldn’t even show up when your film won at freaking Sundance!” Yuuri flinches, but Phichit doesn’t stop, “I don’t think Viktor is the only one who is hiding. If you’re so against refusing to open yourself up to ‘judgment, fear, whatever’, then why are you so dead set on hiding literally all of yourself from the world? Why are you so against actually attaching yourself to the movies you make? At least Viktor shows up, at least Viktor welcomes criticism... If anyone's afraid, it’s you.”

If Yuuri thought the silence before was loud, it was absolutely nothing compared to this. He tries to blink back the pesky tears that want to comfort his eyes. He really doesn’t want to look as weak as Phichit apparently thinks he is. His face has been glued to the table since halfway through Phichits speech, and he can’t seem to force himself to look up, so he stands instead. “Yeah, okay I get it” he whispers as he grabs his script and pen, ready to bolt.

Phichit frowns as guilt starts to color his face. He reaches his hand out to try to get Yuuri to stay, “Wait, Yuuri, I didn’t mean-”

Yuuri cuts him off, “Yes you did. You meant it. And you’re probably right,” he finally gets himself to look at Phichit long enough to muster out a genuine, “I’m sorry”.

“Yuuri…”

A big, very fake, smile grows on Yuuri’s bright red face to try to convince Phichit that everything is in fact okay, “It’s fine! It’s okay! Really!” He backs up slowly, keeping the strange smile plastered across his face. “Anyway, I think I’m going to go to bed now, Goodnight!”

Phichit frowns, "What? It's five o'clo-"

Yuuri turns on his heel before he can hear the rest of Phichits sentence. He awkwardly speed walks away from the kitchen to get to his room.

Once successfully out of the kitchen, he bounds up the staircase and tries not to slip on each pale wooden step. Yuuri knows that Phichit wasn’t wrong. He knows that he was being harsh on Viktor. Hypocritical. But he doesn’t know what else to be. Yuuri likes being nice. He really does! But sometimes this very cold part of himself takes over.

Shutting his bedroom door behind him, Yuuri lets out the pressing breath he has been holding since that stupid, stupid conversation started. It was so pointless. All of it. Why was he supposed to care that some famous, dumb actor, that Yuuri has nothing to do with mind you, followed him on Instagram! He was probably just following anyone who had anything to do with film to try to gain connections or reputability. Well screw that. Yuuri exhales sharply out of his nose and walks to his antique cherry wood dresser to light his incense. The cone that rests on the petal shaped holder erupts with a small ring of red as smoke swirls and spins from the body, like a tornado sneaking across the land. Yuuri shuts his eyes. He lets the smell of earth, and smoke, and comfort wrap itself ever so delicately around his skin. The smoke seems to make its way into Yuuri’s brain and manages to calm him down - to make him think, or feel, more clearly. Phichit wasn’t trying to hurt his feelings. He was just being a good friend, calling Yuuri out on his shit. If anything, Yuuri was trying to hurt the metaphorical Viktor’s feelings. He opens his eyes and lets out another breath, this time, not out of frustration, but out of clearing.

He walks away from his dresser and goes to turn off his bedroom light, letting the room fall into darkness. The only light that bleeds in is from that same glowing ring of incense. It gives the room a sense of smallness that Yuuri genuinely enjoys. He likes feeling contained. Yuuri snatches his computer from his nightstand and lets his body flop onto his bed. His body immediately sinks into the mattress that is covered in an obscene number of blankets for any normal person. A light blue blanket covered in snowflakes grabs his attention and he tosses it over his body, completely obscuring himself and his computer from any intruders who might try to enter his room and hypothetically try to finish a conversation from earlier.

Yuuri opens up the laptop screen. The light from the computer immediately fills the blanketed space and reflects off of Yuuri’s circular glasses. He pushes them up his nose a little bit to try to adjust his eyes to the now glaring screensaver. He takes the moment to admire the photo which is from his favorite film, Moulin Rouge. The screencap is from the scene where Satine and Christian embrace during the performance of Spectacular Spectacular, while the Duke tries to kill them. Yuuri smiles wistfully as he remembers the scene. This movie is the piece that made Yuuri fall in love with film. His little twelve year old brain was absolutely shocked by how much raw emotion, passion, ugliness, and beauty could all somehow be packed so perfectly into one single package. It was the first time Yuuri felt such true, undiluted, pure happiness. Film is the one thing that has kept him going through all the absolute bullshit in his life. Seeing the actors, the directors, the writers, completely put their heart on the line, to see them welcome emotion, welcome pain, well, Yuuri cannot think of anything more inspiring. That’s why Yuuri got so upset when Phichit started gushing over Viktor. He feels like Viktor is taking for granted the amazing spot in cinematic history he is in, a spot that so many talented, fearless artists would kill for.

Not that Yuuri is one to talk though. He remembers what Phichit said. His movies may be fearless, but Yuuri himself sure isn't. He is hiding himself. Yuuri knows he is. As far as he is aware, there is not a single picture of himself floating around out there, and he really does want to keep it that way. He’s already had a life time of people telling him he is not enough. The last thing he wants is for the people who claim to support him to say the same thing once they actually see him. How could they not be disappointed? Yuuri is just… Yuuri. That’s never been enough for anybody. How could it be for a bunch of strangers?

Yuuri shakes his head. This is a negative thought pattern, and he knows better than that. He will not fall down this hole right now. He will not demean himself like that. Yuuri then remembers what he said about Viktor and starts to feel a little guilty again. He probably shouldn’t have demeaned Viktor like that either. He chews on his lip absentmindedly and types his password into the computer, and then immediately goes to YouTube to type in Viktor Nikiforov. Videos of Viktor quickly fill the screen and Yuuri cannot help but to blush, because c’mon, Phichit really wasn’t lying when he said Viktor was gorgeous. Quite possibly the most beautiful person Yuuri had ever seen. He tries to swat away those thirsty, useless thoughts and presses the first video at the top - “‘I’ve actually never been asked that before’ Viktor Nikiforov on Mr. Morrow and which dog breed he most relates to”, posted by Cosmopolitan. Yuuri stifles a chuckle at the silly title and clicks play on the video. A thick Russian accent fills the blanketed space as Viktor sits in the middle of the screen and smiles at the camera, “Hi I’m Viktor Nikiforov and I’m getting up close with Cosmo”. Yuuri accidentally blushes once again.

He watches the video with interest. Viktor is doing everything he's supposed to. Smiling at the right moments, cracking a joke when it’s appropriate, being smooth and smiley and perfect. But just as Yuuri always noticed, his cool blue eyes just look dead, bored…. uninspired. The two images just don’t go together. Yuuri wonders what Viktor is thinking about, what he would rather be doing in that moment.

He finishes up the video, and genuinely does enjoy it to some extent. But he knew he would. No one is saying Viktor isn’t charming, and as far as Yuuri knows, he has no problems with Viktor the person, just Viktor the actor, Viktor the artist. Even after watching a few more interviews from him out of curiosity, Viktor feels just as hidden, just as unknown as he did before Yuuri even knew he existed. He exits out of YouTube and opens Letterboxd instead. Viktor Nikiforov quickly gets typed into the search bar. He clicks on Viktors name and it opens to his profile.

“Viktor Nikiforov is a Russian/American actor and model who is well known for the playing Mr. Morrow, the lead role of the debonair spy in the action/romance series, ‘Mr. Morrow’.

Viktor started acting in Russia when he was 6 years old where he starred in his very first movie, ‘The Boy of Snowflakes’. Viktor continued his acting career in Russia before he and his family moved to the United States when he was 12, where American audiences loved him as well.”

Yuuri scans through the rest of the short biography before scrolling to Viktor’s filmography. He can’t help but feel a slight surprise when he sees that Viktor has already been in thirty-four films. He clicks on the little eyeball button to see how many of them he has seen. It reads back 11 out of 34. That’s not surprising to Yuuri. Phichit has made him watch quite a few of them. And maybe he also watched a couple on his own. But it was just out of curiosity to see if his grudge really had any bearing, and as far as he can tell, it kind of does.

He looks through his ratings of the films he has seen, and is greeted with lots of one to two and a half out of five star reviews. But one rating he left catches his eye.

It’s a five out of five star review with a heart. ‘Boy of Snowflakes’ is the only film Yuuri gave a positive review to. Viktor’s first, and best movie. Although he was only 6 years old in it, Viktor gave one of the most beautiful performances Yuuri had ever seen. There was so much light in those very same dead eyes of now. If this movie had come out recently, and if Yuuri hadn’t only watched it after being shocked by the mundaneness of Mr. Morrow, and the curiosity to see if Viktor had always been that flat, Yuuri would be convinced that Viktor was going to become one of the greatest actors the world had ever seen. But that idea of Viktor is far from the cheesy, schlocky characters he plays now. And Yuuri is genuinely heartbroken by that. Maybe it's not his place to be heartbroken by it, but he still is. He still remembers the shock and the delight after finishing Viktor’s first movie, he remembers rushing to watch the next one, to try to timeline where it all went wrong, but it all went wrong so fast. By Viktor’s very next movie, which was only a year later, he seemed like a completely different child. Like a clone with no memory of the joys of art had swept in and ripped the very heart from Viktor’s chest. He had watched the next few after that, and to his dismay, it looked like uninspired Viktor was there to stay.

Yuuri shuts the computer screen and lets himself become surrounded by darkness. Although he doesn’t know Viktor, Yuuri really does hope that he is okay. That it is simply another case of fame going to someone’s head, of them thinking they don’t have to try anymore, and nothing more.

A nagging feeling starts to pound away in Yuuri’s heart, he is not quite sure of what it is, but he is quite sure of what it is telling him to do. He groans and pulls out his phone from his pocket and opens it to Instagram. He types Viktor’s username into the search bar and finds himself staring at Viktor’s profile. Mostly selfies of Viktor, as well as a few pictures with friends fill Viktor’s page. Yuuri rolls his eyes, but not with any malice, just amusement. He looks up at the top of Viktor’s page, and right under the profile that reads, “He/Him, Ты согреваешь мою душу, You warm my soul.”, is the stark blue “Follow back” button. Yuuri squeezes his eyes shut, and before he can overthink into stopping himself, presses the button.

“Following”

Chapter Text

The tip of the powder brush gently dances across Viktor’s nose leaving pale flakes of white scattered across his face. With each dusting, slightly more powder tries to wiggle it's way into Viktor's nostrils - causing him to stifle a string of sneezes. The makeup artist seems blissfully unaware of his discomfort as she continues to slather him up.

Viktor tries to distract himself from that nagging sniffly feeling by staring at the logo on the artists t-shirt instead. The words "The Tonight Show" are written in big, bold glittery letters right across the front. Despite the glamorous lettering, the shirt itself is decidedly wrinkly and plain. Viktor finds himself judging her for not ironing it beforehand. And then he starts to judge himself because what human being other than him actually irons a t-shirt?

The artist pauses and pulls the brush away from Viktor's face before stretching her rouge colored lips into a smile. She is silent as she takes in the work before her... the work being Viktor's face. In the most sing-songy voice Viktor's ever heard, she exclaims "Just about ready for television!" before getting right back to work.

This time the urge to dispel the powder from his nostrils quickly passes, and Viktor chooses instead stare into the golden mirror before him. He never really enjoyed getting his hair or makeup done. Maybe he liked it the first couple times when he was a boy. At that point there still was some enjoyment to be found in the process. Something about the attention, the fawning, the way it felt powerful to have someone run a brush through his hair while all he had to do was sit there and look pretty. But that novelty wore off pretty quickly. Probably around the time the plump Russian lady doing said brushing exclaimed "Ahhh Vitya! Your hair is thinning!"

He grimaces at the memory. That was probably it.

Quite frankly, all this primping and preening makes him a little bit miserable. He wishes he could just shut his eyes and disappear until it was over and he was perfect. But god forbid Viktor ever shuts down, even if just for a moment. For better or for worse, he has an image that he needs to maintain, and hiding from the world like a scared little child would only be seen as weak. Viktor knows that he can absolutely not be seen as that, not now, not ever. But how can anyone stand to have their image picked apart like this? To constantly be reminded of what their “bad” features are, what needs to be hidden and what should be emphasized instead. He feels like a drawing made by a child, one that shows limitless potential but is never quite up to par. Viktor gets it. He gets that he is too pale to not be covered in powders, his nose is too pointy to not be contoured at least a bit, and his hairline is a little too odd to not be filled in. But above everything else, Viktor knows he is far too imperfect to even have built this reputation of perfection in the first place.

Viktor twitches his nose again as more rogue powder floats through the air. The itch serves to bring him back down a bit. At least enough to remember that he is genuinely attractive and not just an ugly monster. He knows that. In fact, ninety percent of the time he is probably a little too cocky and full of himself for his own good. But at times like this, where his unabridged image is in full view, completely bare, where he is being picked apart and prodded at, he can’t help but wonder how he ever sees himself in that glorious light at all.

“Hey! Old man!”

Viktor winces as he hears the aggravating voice cut into his inner monologue. He clenches his teeth and slowly turns in his chair to greet the little shit who was obviously just yelling at him. The scrunched up face of the boy Viktor is blessed (cursed) to call his co-star glares back at him. If an outsider were to view this scene, they would probably assume that Viktor had just been the one yelling at him and not the other way around. Trying to maintain appearances, Viktor transitions his clenched teeth into a blinding smile. One complete with his little dimple and everything.

“Hello, Yuri. What do you want.”

Viktor’s words read more as a demand than a simple question.

Yuri huffs into the air and turns his head away from Viktor to stare into his own mirror. As he does so, the hairstylist fussing with his hair grumbles out what sounds like an expletive under her breath. Viktor watches as she continues to struggle with keeping the boy's hair from perpetually falling back into his eyes. Yuri is decidedly ambivalent to this. Instead, he casts a sidelong glance at Viktor, before huffing again, “Well I had something super important and interesting to tell you, but I called your name a million times and you never answered, so I guess you don’t want to know.”

Viktor turns his attention back to Yuri, somehow keeping his friendly smile plastered on his face. At least he hopes it is coming across as friendly, because he wouldn't be surprised if it is starting to come across a bit more threatening. How he managed to film a whole movie with this kid and his nasty attitude, Viktor will never know. An earlier, more carefree version of himself definitely would have let Yuri's behavior roll off his back. He probably even would have had some fun with it! But this current Viktor just doesn't have it in him anymore. And while Yuri may look like a sweet little angel, his demeaner is far from it.

And yet despite the fact that Viktor is half sure Yuri has attempted to poison his morning coffee multiple times, and despite the fact he seems to have made it his mission to make Viktor crack - he cannot let his frustration get the best of him. He could never allow that. Viktor closes his eyes and repeats a small mantra in his head, one that he found himself having to repeat quite a bit throughout filming. ‘You are a kind, caring, considerate person. The type of person that does not hit children.’ He takes a deep breath. ‘You are a kind, caring, considerate person. The type of person that does not hit children.’ With each repetition of his mantra, Viktor feels his frustration lessen and his resolve harden. Viktor's eyes slowly open back up and his charming smile finds its way back to his face. Even if he wanted to frown in this moment, his body probably wouldn't let him. He has flipped the switch and it's too late to go back now. His warm eyes meet Yuri's, “Well, Yuri, that’s because my name isn’t actually ‘Old Man’, so you weren’t really calling me, where you?”

Yuri shrugs with indifference and shakes his head roughly. Every single blond strand that was just sprayed away to perfection falls right back across his eyes. The hair stylist freezes in place as she watches her hard work once again become destroyed. Viktor shoots an apologetic look her way. He makes a mental note to have his team send both of their stylists flowers. That would probably make this whole situation look a lot better. Yuri clearly does not have the same thought process and instead decides he isn't done yet with harassing Viktor. “I mean,” a devilish smirk forms on Yuri's face, “I don’t see anyone else here with a receding gray hairline, do you?” he asks in the same belittling tone that Viktor had just spoken to him with.

A pang bounces through Viktor's chest. Yuri hit him right in the sore spot, once again.

As much as he tries to hold it back, Viktor can't help his smile from stiffening. “Actually," he responds, "it’s Silver, not gray, and it’s been like this since I was b-“.

Before Viktor can finish his sentence or forget his mantra long enough to slap Yuri, a stagehand rushes into the dressing room wearing a headset and holding a clipboard. She listens to something in the headset and studies the papers that are clipped down. She looks up and takes in Viktor’s groomed, and Yuri’s groomed-ish appearance before answering the voice through her walkie-talkie, “Yup, they’re ready”. She walks up to the two of them and smiles a quick, but clearly frantic smile, “Viktor, Yuri, thank you again for joining our show tonight, Mr. Fallon is thrilled to chat with you guys.” Viktor and Yuri both smile and nod as the woman continues, clearly too caught up in work for an actual conversation. “We're gonna be going live in ten minutes, so I’m gonna bring y’all on out to the wings. Is there anything you guys need real quick? If you have to go to the bathroom, now would be the time”.

The hurried demeanor of the woman does little to shake Viktor's nerves. This is what he was made for. The pressure, the speed, all of it. Viktor stands up from the chair, and once again flashes a smoldering grin “I’m alright, thank you.” A soft blush colors the stagehands face as she quickly turns her attention to look at Yuri instead, “And you?”. Viktor chuckles and glances at Yuri. Unfortunately when Viktor's eyes land on Yuri, all he is able to see is how pale the boy is starting to look.

It is now when it hits Viktor like a crisp slap to the face that this is Yuri’s first time on a live show. In fact this whole movie was Yuri's first role in general. Viktor inwardly curses at himself when he remembers how Yuri was trying to talk to him earlier. Hopefully it really was simply to get on Viktor's nerves, and not because he was actually trying to get some advice. If that is what he was trying to do, then the only jerk here is Viktor for accidentally ignoring him. The guilt from that even being a possibility makes Viktor wish someone actually would slap him in the face. Without meaning to, his hands ball into fists as a deep sense of shame pools through his body. Not only is he the older one, but he is also the experienced one. He has spent his whole life doing this, and only this. He should be guiding Yuri, helping him, not bickering with him like a child.

Viktor takes a small, but assured step closer to Yuri and brings his hand to rest on the boy's shoulder. “I think we’re okay, you can bring us to the wings, but when you have a moment, could you please bring Yuri here some water?”

The stagehand nods and gestures for the two to follow her. As she walks, she lifts her Walkie-Talkie and it crackles to life, “This is Tammy, can someone please have a water bottle waiting for Yuri in the wings? ASAP, please. Over.” Viktor takes a peek at Yuri again, and much to his dismay he is still almost as pale as Viktor himself.

The Walkie-Talkie once again sounds as a scratchy, distorted voice responds to Tammy, “Ron here, got the water bottle. Over”.

Yuri lets out a shuddery breath and Viktor tightens the hand that rests on his shoulder in what he hopes feels like reassurance.

When they finally do get to the wings, the stagehand passes Yuri the water bottle and gives them the five minute warning. Yuri snatches the water bottle from her hand and almost gulps the whole thing down in one go, but Viktor pulls the bottle away from his mouth before he can. “Woah there,” Viktor mumbles as he holds the water bottle down, “you’re going to throw up if you drink it like that”.

Yuri glares at him and snatches his hand away from Viktor. “I’m THIRSTY” he emphasizes before bringing the bottle back up to his lips.

Finding himself actually caring about the boy in his moment, Viktor decides to play along. He sighs dramatically and puts a hand to his heart, “Excuse me for being worried about my co-star, I’m just trying to stop you from making the same egregious, embarrassing, will tarnish your reputation forever, mistake I did”. Viktor holds up his hand in mock surrender, “But you’re right, my bad”.

Yuri pauses, the water bottle still at his lips, as he eyes Viktor, who just shrugs in indifference. Yuri narrows his gaze and slowly brings the bottle down, “Did you…” Yuri trails off.

Viktor nods, “Yup. All over the floor. My very first interview too”. Viktor smirks playfully at Yuri, “Granted I was six and you’re the big old age of sixteen, but still.”

Yuri tries to cover the flush of red that colors his now slightly less sickly face with a scowl. He mumbles a string of curses as he screws the lid back on the bottle before letting it fall to the floor with a thud. The stagehand jumps at the sudden noise, but then tries to play it off like she was trying to stretch. Viktor suppresses the urge to scold him and tell him to put it down gently next time, because frankly, Yuri is still obviously very freaked out. And Viktor may be slightly more apathetic than his younger self, but he is not a monster. He never wants to see people in pain.

He gently raises his hand to pat Yuri on the back. “Hey,” he smiles warmly, “it’s going to be fine". Before he is even aware of what he is going to say or do to comfort Yuri, a strange sense of melancholy takes over Viktor's senses. Something about this moment feels really really real. It strikes Viktor that for the first time since he has entered this building, it feels like his feet are actually touching solid ground. It feels like there is actually air that he is breathing and real people he is seeing. Viktor remembers that he too exists in this moment. It's almost like he is sixteen years old once again and desperately hoping people will like him. Viktor’s smile quickly slips into something sort of sad as he speaks, "The big secret that no one wants you to know is that these people don't actually care what we have to say. Not really.”

Yuri doesn't quite look at Viktor, but his ears perk up at this. It is obvious he is listening intently as his lips fold into a slight frown. Viktor continues, “They just care that we're famous. If you mess up or say something dumb, they're just going to think its charming or silly, or that they’re just too stupid to understand how your brain works." Viktor's eyes slightly dull as he drops his gaze from Yuri, "they will always try to listen, but never truly will".

For possibly the only time since Viktor has met him, Yuri doesn't respond, he doesn't reply with a cutting remark or a mocking gesture, he just studies Viktor's face before turning his head to look out the thick black curtains that hide the audience. "That’s..." Yuri whispers angrily, "that's kind of depressing".

Viktor stills, depressing wasn't quite what he was going for, not entirely. He rubs his lips together, spreading the previously applied chapstick around as he thinks. He should probably feel like he handled this the wrong way, but it's the truth. It's better Yuri learns this now rather than in a few years when his star will burn brighter than ever. Maybe this way, it will take him longer before he burns out.

The stagehand interrupts his train of thought to call out, "One minute everyone! One minute!" She hurries to stand behind the two actors so she can usher them out when the time comes. She begins counting down, "Thirty, twenty-nine, twenty-eight, twenty-seven…".

Viktor takes a step beside Yuri so that they stand shoulder to shoulder. "Yes," Viktor finally responds, "I suppose you're right". Viktor faintly hears the host say his name before thunderous claps fill the wings. It's a sound that he doesn't think he will ever get used to. When he was a kid, he would shut his eyes and pretend it was only the ocean lapping across a sprawling shore, and that he was nothing but a tiny grain of sand. Forgotten, at peace. But he’s long since stopped that run of his imagination. There was no use for it, no use in pretending that he was anywhere but here. Shouts of "Viktor" and some of "Yuri” start to float above the claps, and with that, Viktor transforms. His smile is painted, his back is straight, his hair impeccable, and his aura beyond what almost anyone could even dream of achieving. Staring straight ahead, he finally finishes his thought, "But at least it takes the pressure off". His voice is strong, confident even, but completely empty. Devoid of any meaning or emotion. Perfect.

"One! Go, go, go!" the stage hand urges. Viktor steps forward without so much as a glance towards Yuri and walks towards the stage. A dumbfounded expression forms on Yuri's face as he watches Viktor's back retreat from his view into the dazzling lights of the stage. Before he can stray from reality for too long however, the stagehand gently pushes on his back, reminding him to go.

And so... he goes.

~

The road runs past Viktor's eyes until it is one big mess of black, brown, and orange. Its is ugly, but Viktor tries to find it beautiful. Sometimes though, things are just ugly. No matter how hard you wish otherwise.

Viktor closes his eyes and sighs. The cool glass of the window feels soothing against his toasty head. He tries to ignore the pounding that comes with his coveted post interview headache. He presses his head even harder against the glass, until it almost hurts. This is one of those increasingly frequent nights where the driver cannot get Viktor home soon enough. The small sound of a "ding" chimes from the phone resting idly in Victors hand. He forces his eyes to open and studies the screen through blurry vision. Immediately, his eyes clear up and shoot wide open. His heart drops into his stomach before catapulting right back up into his chest, skipping several very important beats, creating a new sensation for Viktor.

An Instagram notification rests across his vision with the dazzling words,

'katsukiyuuri followed you'.

Chapter Text

A loud knock on the bedroom door is the first thing Yuuri hears the next morning. His crusty, bloodshot eyes force themselves open as the knocks get increasingly louder and more rapid. The door is almost vibrating with the force of the bangs. Yuuri tightens his grip on his covers as the anxiety in his chest grows. It has to be Phichit, he thinks to himself, there is no one else it could be.

Unless he is getting robbed, and honestly, he would probably prefer that right now. Yuuri has been called many things in his life, but “direct” or “willing to solve problems” has never quite made the roster of apt descriptions for him. But as much as he would like to ignore his problems right now, Yuuri knows that Phichit is not the type to give up easy. A low and sleep laced groan escapes from Yuuri’s lips as he pulls the blanket over his head. Maybe he can just stay here forever.

The knocks only get louder. Phichit yells through the door “Yuuri, fire!”

Now Yuuri’s eyes really shoot open.

“Whaaat?” Yuuri half screams in a panic. He tears his blanket off of his body as he tries to manifest the act of not throwing up everywhere. As he tries to stand up in a hurry, Yuuri unfortunately discovers a few things. The first is that it seems his body has not quite woken up at the same pace as his brain. The second being the fact that blankets can wrap themselves quite easily around feet, especially when the user of said blanket is in a life or death panic. The final thing Yuuri learns is that a fall from a bed feel much, much longer than it really is.

In other words, Yuuri just ate massive shit.

The loud thud that emits from Yuuri’s body smacking onto the floor easily drifts beyond the door. Phichit startles at the sound and quickly opens the bedroom door, “Yuuri!” A look of confusion fills Phichits face as he looks back at the door. “Oh,” he mumbles, “I guess it was unlocked the whole time…”

Yuuri is unable to scold him in this moment, as he is still trying to figure out if he has just died tragically or not.

Phichit turns away from the door and looks down at Yuuri’s sprawled out figure, which is currently face down with his legs still propped up and tangled in the blankets behind him. “Yuuri?” Phichit questions cautiously.

Yuuri just lets out a pained moan in response.

Maybe if the world is merciful on him for once, the fire will just kill him. Quick and easy.

Phichit takes a small step forward, “Uh, haha” he says, “got you?”. The last bit comes out as a slight apology.

Yuuri does not find this joke very funny. The silence tells Phichit everything he needs to know, so he shakes his head and shuffles up to Yuuri to kneel beside him. “I’m so sorry!” He starts to help Yuuri up. “I just knew you wouldn’t open the door unless you had to, and I really needed to talk to you!” Phichit untangles the blanket from his feet, who begrudgingly lets him help. Phichit finally looks up at Yuuri. “Are you okay-” he starts before quickly cutting himself off when he sees the state of him.

Yuuri stares back at him with clouded eyes as he waits for Phichit to finish speaking. When he doesn't, he starts to feel a little worried. What did he manage to do this time?

“What’s wrong?” Yuuri asks, his voice dazed. Phichit does not respond. Yuuri decides he is tired of waiting for Phichit to respond, so he slowly gathers the strength to stand himself up. Luckily Phichit manages to at least be a little bit useful and helps him up so he doesn’t fall yet again. Yuuri stumbles over to the mirror above his cherry dresser and takes in his appearance. His mouth can’t help but to slip open as he sees the sticky blood dripping from not just one, but both his nostrils, as well as a large bruise that is already starting to form along his cheek and eye.

As Yuuri watches himself in shock, Phichit rushes off to grab some tissues as well as Yuuri’s glasses. He quickly brings them back to Yuuri who silently puts his glasses on and dabs at the blood dripping from his nose. Phichit watches him with worry, deep lines forming in his bronze complexion. “You must have hit your head on the nightstand on your way down…” he says softly. Yuuri grunts in response. Phichit chews on his lip before grabbing the tissue from Yuuri. “Here, sit on your bed, I can do this”. Yuuri wordlessly follows his directions and sits on the bed. Phichit continues to gnaw on his lip as he gingerly wipes the blood from Yuuri’s face. “I’m so sorry Yuuri,” he starts guiltily, “I am such an idiot! I don’t know what the hell I was thinking. You have my permission to hate me forever”.

Much to Phichit’s surprise, Yuuri lets a weak smile fill his face as he gives an awkward thumbs up. Phichit glances down at the hand gesture with half confusion, half amusement, and then glances back up at Yuuri. “It’s okay,” Yuuri says, still smiling, still with the thumbs up, “you’re right, I wasn’t going to open the door”. Phichit stares at him. Yuuri keeps smiling. Finally Phichit can’t help but to scoff as he reaches out to ruffle Yuuri’s already very messy hair.

“You’re an idiot, you know that right?” Yuuri nods genuinely in response. Phichit laughs lightly at this for only a moment before he switches to a sigh instead. “I really am sorry though,” he looks into Yuuri’s eyes with genuine sorrow, “not just about this. I mean, I am still very sorry about this, but I am also sorry about yesterday. I shouldn’t have brought your personal stuff into everything.”

For the first time in as long as Yuuri can remember, Phichit drops his usually intense eye contact to the floor. “I’m just really, really proud of you,” he quickly lands his gaze back on Yuuri, “you and your work. You’re genuinely the most talented and passionate filmmaker I have ever seen and I want nothing more then for you and your talent to have all the success and recognition in the world. That’s why it hurts so much to see you hide yourself away so intensely. Especially because I know people will love you. Just like I love you”. Phichit smiles somewhat sadly, “I know you think you are impossible to love or something, but it’s quite the opposite actually. And so when your film won at Sundance, I really thought that would be it. The final act of reassurance that would allow you to finally show yourself to this world. But you didn’t. Which I know is your choice, and I have to respect that, but still. I just… I don't know” Phichit trails off.

Yuuri watches him silently for a moment as genuine warmth as well as genuine sadness start to fill his chest. He grabs Phichits hand and motions for him to sit down on the bed next to him. He takes a small breath as he gathers his thoughts. Feeling it important, Yuuri forces himself to really look at Phichit for his response. Yuuri knows Phichit is a good friend, the best, and he wishes he was better at showing his appreciation for him. Phichit seems a little taken aback by the eye contact initiated by Yuuri, but he does not say anything about it.

Yuuri bites the inside of his cheek, “I’m the one who's sorry,” he starts, “I was being the world’s biggest hypocrite and you were right to call me out on it. But I can’t help that I’m scared.” Yuuri turns away from Phichit to stare straight ahead. “I can’t handle any more rejection,” his jaw clenches tightly, “I just can’t”.

Phichit nods sadly and pats Yuuri’s knee, “I get it”.

Yuuri feels something else pulling at his conscious that he should probably get out. “And as for Viktor,” an embarrassed chuckle escapes him, “I don’t even know why I went so hard on him. I mean, yes I think his acting debut was a masterpiece, and yes I resent what his career turned into following that masterpiece. But… I got weirdly personal didn’t I?” Yuuri looks at Phichit in wait for a response.

Phichit pulls an upside down smile and nods. “Yeah,” he says, “you were a little intense”. Ironically, a lot of emphasis is placed on the word ‘little’ when Phichit says it.

Yuuri scoffs and shakes his head. “Well,” he says, “you’ll be happy to know that I am trying to redeem myself for that at least a little bit. I followed Viktor back on Instagram.”

Suddenly Phichit eyes go wide as he smacks himself on the forehead, “Viktor! Duh!”

Yuuris furrows his eyebrows and leans away in confusion. “What are you-”

Phichit cuts him off before he can finish, “The main reason I came here in the first place!”

Yuuri cocks his head, “I thought the main reason was to apologi-”.

“Nevermind that now, Yuuri!’ Phichit pulls out his phone and unlocks it. “You’re not going to believe this!”

He passes the phone off to Yuuri as he bounces up and down in excitement. Yuuri arches a suspicious eyebrow and takes the phone from Phichit. On the screen is a video of what looks to be Viktor, some kid, and Jimmy Fallon that has been paused halfway through. Yuuri looks up at Phichit. “What am I supposed to be looking at?” he asks cautiously.

Phichit lets out a sly smile, and reaches over Yuuri’s arm to press play. The sound of laughing fills the air before Fallon starts talking again. Yuuri watches Viktor intently, not quite sure what he is meant to be focusing on. He once again can’t help the small blush that rises to his face as he watches.

“So, Viktor,” Fallon starts, “I have a question for you”.

Viktor flashes a jaw-dropping smile and holds Jimmy’s gaze in a way that Yuuri would never be able to do. “What’s your question, Jimmy?” he asks, voice smooth as honey. Yuuri could swear that Fallon himself reddened up a little bit at Viktor’s words.

“Woah,” Fallon pulls at his collar, “that felt very intimate for some reason”. He looks out at the audience as they laugh, “I don’t think I can look at you now, I’m too nervous” he jokes. Viktor joins the audience in laughing. Fallon chuckles as well before he looks back at Viktor and continues with his question. “What I was going to say, before you started flirting with me, which I am very interested in by the way,” the audience laughs again, “is that you really are at the top of your career right now. You could probably book anything you could possibly want. I mean I can see why, but it must feel like a dream come true! Am I right?”

Viktor does not respond. Yuuri notices that he doesn’t even smile. For a moment, the stillness and the thick layer of melancholy that seems to briefly sneak off of Viktor can’t help but to remind Yuuri about what he saw in Viktors first movie. Simply put, a person. For the first time since watching ‘Boy of Snowflakes’, Viktor looks like a real person. But just as soon as it begins, it ends, and Viktor is back to his blank, pleasing self. He flashes his teeth at Fallon. “Yeah, yeah I suppose it is a dream come true”.

Fallon nods excitedly, “It really is”. He leans back in his chair as he studies Viktor. “So tell me, if you could be in any director's movie, your absolute dream role, y’know, since all your dreams are coming true, who would it be?”

Viktor seems surprised at the question, as if it was something he never really thought about. Yuuri fights back the urge to roll his eyes. “Hmm” Viktor drawls, “that’s an excellent question… I suppose, well, I suppose…”. Yuuri can’t help but feel a little bad for him with how lost he seems. But really, does he even watch movies? Fallon and the blonde boy sitting next to Viktor also watch him carefully as he mulls the thought over. “Aha!” Viktor says finally, his eyes flashing in what seems to be genuine excitement, and maybe even a bit of… nervousness? “I think I would have to say my favorite director,” he grins, “Yuuri Katsuki!”

Yuuri's stomach drops to his feet. Unconsciously, his hand flies up to cover his mouth that is now hanging open.

Favorite director? He knows that Viktor knows who he is as evident from Instagram, but… favorite director? No way. Not little old Yuuri. Not random indie filmmaker Yuuri that lucked into winning Sundance that one time. No. No way!

Fallon’s face scrunches up in confusion. “Yuuri… Katsuki?” He draws each syllable out painfully slowly. “Is it bad to say that I have no idea who that is?”

If Yuuri’s face wasn’t already red enough from the bruising and the shock, pure embarrassment certainly just got the job done.

Viktor smiles to himself, something else Yuuri has never seen him do before, as he responds. “He is more of an up and comer filmmaker,” he explains, “he has made three wonderful movies so far, and his most recent film, ‘The Backwards Drive’, actually won at Sundance”.

“Oh, really?” Fallon exclaims. “Can we get a picture of him up here?” He points at the screen behind him, “I want to see who we’re talking about”.

Viktor chuckles, “Yeah, I’ve tried that. I don’t think any pictures of him exist”.

Fallon cocks his head with a small smirk, “What? How is this even possible in this day and age”.

Viktor shrugs lightheartedly, “I wish I knew”.

“Hmm”, Fallon hums, “Well okay then, what are his movies like?”

Viktor pauses yet again, and Yuuri finds himself paused too, terrified yet somewhat thrilled to hear what Viktor has to say.

“Magic” Viktors states simply. “They’re like magic”.

Yuuri feels as if his heart will burst.

Fallon smiles at Viktor before turning to face the camera head on, “You hear that Yuuri?” Yuuri jolts in his spot. “If you happen to be watching this, you should hire this guy,” he points at Viktor, “I heard he’s pretty popular or something”.

Everyone laughs.

Phichit reaches over Yuuri again to pause the video and take his phone back. Yuuri doesn’t even flinch, hell, he can’t even move right now he’s so shocked.

“Yuuri…” Phichit coaxes. Yuuri somehow finds the strength to look at him through the corners of his eyes. Phichit pulls his lips in a straight line, “I think you should hire him”.

No longer finding the corners of his eyes enough to portray the bewilderment Yuuri is feeling, he throws his head around to stare at Phichit with panicked eyes. Phichit jolts in response at the sight of Yuuri’s face. He stands up quickly, “But maybe we should take you to the doctor first… Your face is starting to look like it’s just one big lump”.

Yuuri slowly stands up to follow Phichit. He doesn’t have enough brainpower to argue right now anyway. In fact, there are only four little words floating around his head right now. Words that he won’t soon forget.

‘Magic… they’re like magic’.

Chapter Text

Yuuri suppresses the urge to blink as the doctor waves his pointed light in front of his eyes. Seemingly satisfied after swiping the light back and forth a few times, he turns it off, pockets it, and smiles at Yuuri, “Welp, no concussions or broken noses,” he helps Yuuri down from the examination table, “just the bruising. Make sure to keep the ice on it and come back if the swelling doesn’t start to go down”.

Yuuri nods absentmindedly as he holds the dark blue ice pack to his still discolored skin.

Phichit shoots up from his chair and beams at the doctor, “Thank you doctor! C’mon Yuuri”. He grabs Yuuri’s hand and pulls him out of the office with a backwards wave to the doctor. They walk quickly down the far too bright hallways of the hospital with matching blank expressions on their faces. When they finally get to their beat up blue truck, they collapse into their seats with palpable exhaustion. Phichit reaches to pull his seat-belt down before letting out a relieved chuckle. He reaches to put the key in the ignition, “Thank god I didn’t cause any brain damage” he says with light humor.

“No”.

Phichit’s hand stills before he can get the key in and he turns to look at Yuuri, “What? The doctor just said you're fine”.

Yuuri shakes his head furiously before wincing and clutching it with closed eyes. Keeping them closed, he sighs. “I mean no I’m not hiring Viktor. No way. Even if I wanted to, there is no way he would agree to be in my rinky-dink movies”.

Phichit forgets about turning the car on and instead chooses to just gape at Yuuri. He leans forward and almost yells as he speaks, “He literally said he wanted to… In front of hundreds of people… Live… On Jimmy fucking Fallon!” he gestures wildly with his hands to emphasize his words.

Yuuri frowns. He knows that Phichit has a point, but god dammit, Yuuri has a point too! He pouts and crosses his arms, “Well I don’t want him. You know how important my movies are to me”. Yuuri’s voice loses some volume as sincerity creeps into his voice, “They’re my heart. I can’t give my heart to someone who won’t take it seriously. Someone who won’t even try.”

Phichit exhales and leans his head against the cloth seats of the car “I get that Yuuri, I do! I mean, that’s why I love your movies so much in the first place. But I think Viktor really has something, and no matter what you say, I know you do too. I’ve seen your reviews of his first movie, and I truly, genuinely believe you could pull that out of him again. I mean, honestly, I think you could make cinema history, Yuuri. That’s why I want this for you. And not only that, but your movies deserve to be seen, and having Viktor in your movie would definitely do that”.

Yuuri reaches his finger up to anxiously pick at his lips, a habit he has been trying to kick for too many years to count. But his mind is swirling right now, and he can’t think of what else to do. He continues to pick as he speaks with downcast eyes, “Maybe. But what if he ruins it?” Blood starts to lightly splotch Yuuri’s fingernails, but he keeps picking, keeps pondering, “This particular movie… I have to get it right. I have to. It’s everything I’ve always needed to say. And I just can’t let him mess it up.”

Phichit nods with understanding as he gently reaches over to remove Yuuri’s hand from his lips. Yuuri lets him. He retracts his hand and begins to search through the glove compartment. He talks softly, but plainly to Yuuri, “I mean, he could, he totally could. But what if he makes it better than anything you ever imagined?” Phichit finds what he is looking for and pulls out a chapstick to hand to Yuuri, “Because you’re right, your story is important and I think it will mean a lot to more people than you might expect, and Viktor may be one of them. At least let him audition, it’s not like you have to hire him”.

Yuuri observes the outstretched chapstick before taking it and applying a generous layer to his lips. With each swipe, Yuuri is once again reminded that Phichit has only ever wanted what was best for him. Always. And Phichit knows better than anyone that this film is Yuuri’s years of internalized heartbreak and fears finally being expressed, finally being felt, and he would never ever put Yuuri’s trauma in jeopardy. This movie is Yuuri’s first step in finally moving on from his past. From his dad, from his mom, from his childhood, from his tormentors, from everyone and everything he ran away from with Phichit all those years ago. His passion project to end all passion projects, his mark in this world, his moment to say ‘I did it without all of you, I did it in spite of all of you, you are nothing to me anymore, I am a person who deserves and can achieve good things’. Yuuri suddenly feels overwhelmed with emotion. He pushes down the urge to keep picking at his lips, he pushes down the urge to cry, and instead, for the first time ever, he takes a leap of faith.

“...Okay”.

Phichit’s eyes blow wide and he leans back as if he misheard Yuuri, “Okay?”

Yuuri blows a stream of air out of his mouth as his nerves start to act up. He nods with a new sort of dedication, “Yup”. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and opens Instagram. He goes to Viktor’s page and hits the ‘message’ button as Phichit watches from over his shoulder. Yuuri starts to type furiously.

Phichit narrows his eyes as he tries to read what Yuuri is typing. “What are you writing?” he asks. Yuuri does not respond and continues to type. Phichit rolls his eyes and, giving up on reading the screen, leans back once again in the seat. “Okay fine you don’t have to tell me yet,” he says, “but show me before you-”

“Sent it”.

Phichit jolts in surprise, “What??”

“I sent it”.

Phichit dramatically runs his hands down his face. “Yuuri!” he moans in defeat, “Why didn’t you show me? You’re so bad at texting!”

Yuuri shrugs, “I didn’t want to lose my nerve before I sent it”.

Phichit shakes his head and holds his hand out, “Hand it over”.

He reluctantly hands it off to Phichit with a guilty face.

Once holding the phone, Phichit begins to read Yuuri’s message aloud. He clears his throat obnoxiously and then begins, “To whom it may concern…” Phichit immediately stops reading and gapes at Yuuri, “To whom it may concern??? Are you a fifty year old lawyer trying to tell Viktor that he is getting sued or something?”

“Just read the whole thing before you nitpick!”, Yuuri says as he frowns, “You’re gonna make me panic vomit”.

A look of disgust crosses Phichit's face, “Well, we wouldn’t want that”. He clears his throat again, even more obnoxiously this time, and starts over,

“To whom it may concern, hello there. It has come to my attention that you have expressed some level of interest in acting in one of my films. It may be worth noting that I am in the casting stage of my newest film. I am potentially interested in utilizing your services for said film. If you are at all interested in potentially having your services be utilized, you can reach me at 503-567-3830. Before you reach out, I should warn you that I can not guarantee a competitive pay rate (it would likely be in the $50,000-100,000 range depending on funding) as I am an independent filmmaker, so if you were to pursue this opportunity, it would have to be mostly for the love of the project. If you do decide to proceed, I can not guarantee you a role even if you do audition. I tend to hire undiscovered talents, so your status could be your undoing.

Best,
Yuuri”.

Silence fills every inch of the car as Phichit sits in raw disbelief. Quickly deciding that this atmosphere is not great for his already building anxiety, Yuuri prompts Phichit. “Well?” he questions.

“You sound like a murderer, dude,” Phichit states, “Like, a seasoned murderer.” Yuuri blinks dumbly as he continues, “Utilizing his services?? Your status could be your undoing?? …Yuuri.” He shakes his head slowly as he drops the phone onto Yuuri’s lap, “There’s no fixing that”.

Yuuri crosses his arms and sinks in his seat, not even bothering to pick up the phone. “It’s not my fault,” he mumbles, “I have a concussion”.

The engine grumbles to life as Phichit finally starts the car. He rolls his eyes at Yuuri as he inches out of the parking spot, “The doctor literally just said you don’t”.

Yuuri glances out the window as a small white dove catches his attention. “Oh yeah” he absentmindedly replies.

The small dove waddles along the car for a moment before its wings flutter to life. Yuuri watches as it takes off from the ground and gracefully becomes enveloped in the air instead. He watches as it floats off into the distance, their car following slowly behind. Yuuri is not sure if this is a sign, but in his beaten up state, he is going to assume that it is.

Chapter Text

His sight is pulsing.

Blue, purple, pink, yellow,

pulsing.

Why did he even come here in the first place? It was stupid to try to convince himself that his life would change from just one party. Viktor knows that his life will never change.

Yet, the alcohol burning deep in his chest is nothing compared to the aching that usually seems to find a home there.

The music is still too loud. He wants to scream at it to leave him alone.

He wants to scream at everyone to leave him alone.

This is not his house though, so he supposes he should be the one to leave. But, he is far too terrified of being the person who disappears.

Viktor clenches his eyes shut and lets his head sink back until it finds the refuge of the sofa. Just like everything else in this house, it looks nice, but feels terrible. He squirms in discomfort for a moment before quickly realizing it's hopeless and giving in to the throngs of the lumpy couch. He is not quite as drunk as he would like to be. But his Russian genes never have allowed him to get much more than very tipsy when he drinks. Also he cries whenever his stomach hurts a little too much, so maybe he has to just let go of the idea of getting black out drunk.

“Hiii Viktorr…” an intoxicated female voice draws out.

Viktor does not respond, he does not even open his eyes.

“Viktor…?” The voice asks again.

Another, different, voice chimes in, “Leave him alone, dude looks like he’s taken one too many Xan’s or something”.

“WOoHOOO, party animal!” a third, and hopefully final, voice yells out.

Viktor doesn’t move an inch. If that’s the story they’re going with, who is he to stop them? No one would believe them anyway. Brad has always had a strict no photo policy at his parties ever since someone took video of him (allegedly) cheating on Angelina, so it’s not like they’ll be able to take a picture of him or whatever.

Luckily no more voices appear, so once it seems as if they are far out of sight, Viktor timidly opens his eyes and looks around. Much to his dismay, it looks exactly the same as when he closed them. Throngs of celebrities and non-celebrities alike, all drinking, doing drugs, or trying to feaverishly fuck through the clothes that they are wearing.

Viktor rolls his eyes. He is not typically one to judge the horny people of this world, in fact he is usually one of them, but he is just not feeling it right now. More precisely, he hasn’t been feeling it lately at all. He is just so tired. Tired of all the briefness, of all the fleeting interest, of using other people, of being used himself. For the first time in his life, he wants something real. Really, really real. And all this? Decidedly not real. Nothing could get less real than the culture of these parties. The culture of this life. Viktor figured all this out pretty early on into the industry, especially once he moved to America, but it had never bothered him, only entertained him. But now he is wishing he was anywhere else.

Viktor lets out a low groan and heaves himself off the sofa. He needs some air.

The hallways are not much better than the rooms, but luckily he manages to reach the flat-top roof of Brad's mansion before he completely loses his mind.

The soft, cool air wraps itself around Viktor the moment he steps onto the roof. The music pulses faintly behind the shut door and harmonizes with the honking and the random chatter that floats from the streets far below. A deep, grounding breath emits from Viktor’s body as he finally takes a moment to relax. Although there are still some people on the roof, there are not enough to bother Viktor too much.

He walks up to the glass railing and rests his forearms against it. The twinkling lights of tall buildings rest among the velvety night air and almost make up for the lack of stars in the sky.

Part of it is sad. Viktor has long since lost his love of acting. But he hoped he would never lose his love of “the life”, and now that he is starting to, what’s left? Will he ever find something that makes him feel like that again? Viktor genuinely doesn't think so. It just doesn’t seem possible. He never has before.

Well… perhaps that’s not entirely true.

Every time Viktor watches a certain director’s movies, he has consistently felt a little twinge of… something. Loneliness? Joy? Heartbreak? Hope? Love? Loss? Something. And whatever that something is, it just so happens to feel a lot like inspiration. But as much as he would like to, and as much as he’s been thinking about it ever since that interview, it’s not like he could ever be in one of Yuuri Katsuki’s movies. For one thing, outside of Katsuki’s instagram filled with random pictures of things the director enjoys, Viktor doesn’t have the slightest idea of who he really is. He doesn’t know what he looks like, how old he is, how to get in contact with him, nothing. And because Katsuki is an independent filmmaker, it’s not like he has broad casting calls or an agent to get in touch with. Sure Viktor could ask his own agent to try to get in touch, but he would never agree. Just like everyone else in his life, his agent only wants Viktor when he is at the top of his game. He would never allow him to work on such a small project. His mother would probably have a conniption as well.

Viktor once again shuts his eyes as the wind caresses his cheeks and leaves him feeling comfortably cold. He lightly clicks his manicured nails against the glass railing and allows his mind to wander.

What if?

What if none of that mattered? What would happen if he did work with Yuuri Katsuki? What would he even be like? A mentor? Maybe even, a friend? Viktor would like that. He doesn’t have any real friends. At least any outside of Chris. And even with Chris, Viktor has never been able to completely be himself around him, around anybody. Maybe he is setting himself up for disappointment by imagining that he could have all these things with Katsuki, for all Viktor knows, the director could be an old weirdo who doesn’t care about other people. Or a stoic asshole who thinks he is better than everybody else. He could really be absolutely anyone. Although honestly, that idea excites Viktor just the tiniest bit. He has always loved the unexpected, and he has a feeling that if he ever did meet Yuuri Katsuki, he would turn out to be the absolute last thing Viktor could ever expect.

A slight buzz in Viktor’s pocket distracts him and he slides his phone out from his silver pant pocket. A notification lights up Viktor’s screen, and his red rimmed eyes involuntarily widen as he reads the words, ‘Direct message from katsukiyuuri’.

Pure adrenaline kicks through Viktor’s body as he frantically clicks on the notification, never having to so desperately read a message before as he does now. Unfortunately, it seems as this fervor mixed with the small traces of alcohol that are still in his systems does not lend itself well to gentle phone tapping, and before Viktor can do anything, he watches his phone plummets out of his hand and off of the roof into the throngs below, all from the pure force of his finger.

“Fuck!” Viktor yells as he leans over the railing and watches his phone disappear into blackness. “Fuck, fuck, FUCK!” he screams at the night air before hopelessly kicking the railing a few times. Of course this would happen to him right now. He quickly gives up and pants heavily from the exertion before stepping back from the railing. His silky silver hair falls into his eyes even more than usual and he blows them away in a huff, not in the mood for the extra annoyance right now.

There has to be something he can do.

He whips his body around, a look belonging to a crazed man filling his features, and surveys his surroundings. A small group of girls stand near the exit and pass around a dwindling cigarette. One of them smirks at his eye contact and lets out a sly puff of smoke, definitely mistaking this situation for something else.

Viktor marches up to the group, not a hint of a smile on his lips. The same girls hands the cigarette off to her friend and steps forward, “Hey there big bo-”

“Give me your phone” Viktor demands, effectively cutting her off.

Her smile drops a little, “Wha-”

Viktor holds his hand out, “Your phone”.

The girl shifts uncomfortably and tries to smile again, “Y'know if you want my number, you could just ask for it”.

Viktor shakes his head furiously, “I don’t want your number, just give me your phone. I’ll give it back”. The girl stares at him. “Please?” he adds, remembering he is supposed to be polite.

“Uh,” the girl's shoulders slump with dejection, “sure”. She reaches into her gold clutch and pulls out a matching gold cased phone. She types in her password quickly before passing the phone off to Viktor.

He snatches it from her hand causing her to startle slightly. “Thanks”, he says as he turns his back to them, “I’ll be right back”.

The girls watch him rush off before they turn back to each other. “Fucking wierdo,” a shorter girl mumbles as the others nod in agreement.

Viktor stands back at where he was before, this time with his back to the railing to ensure no more phone dropping incidents. The phone rests like the holy grail in his hands and he whispers a prayer of thanks to whatever entity might be out there. He opens the phone to Instagram and quickly logs himself in. The Instagram inbox with a shining ‘1’ takes up every inch of Victor's mind, and he is absolutely terrified. This one action will only end one of two ways. Either Viktor’s dreams come true and Katsuki is everything Viktor dreamed he would be and more, or this will end as nothing but the final blow to Viktor’s dreams as well as any other hope he has of finding a new dream ever again. Dramatic? Maybe. But this is where he feels he is right now. But he also does not feel like he can wait any longer. He takes a deep breath, and before he can talk himself out of it, clicks on the inbox and then on the message.

A short paragraph appears, and Viktor reads it. Then reads it again. And again. And then one more time.

He looks up in confusion. “What the hell?”

Viktor can’t help but to laugh in disbelief. Looks like the hypothesis that Katsuki is just some random weirdo might just be correct.

But it can’t be that simple. It can’t be done just like that. Katsuki is offering him, albeit in a terrifying way, exactly what he wants. A chance for something more, a chance for proving himself, for finding his passion again, for finding friendship!

Viktor glances at the message again.

Well, maybe not friendship, but all those other things! Even if Katsuki is a weirdo, he sure as hell knows how to make an incredible movie.

Screw what his agent thinks, screw what his fans think, screw what his mom thinks, or what his dad would think. Screw it all. Viktor wants more. He wants something that is completely, selfishly, only for himself. He has never had something like that before, and so help him he is going to finally get it, no matter what crazy people it means putting up with!

Viktor copies Yuuri's number from the message and starts texting the response immediately, too terrified to let this opportunity pass for even a second. And with each word he types, it seems as if the weight on his chest gets just a little bit lighter.

Chapter Text

“Oh”.

Phichit casts a sideways glance at Yuuri as he speeds down the road, “What?”.

Yuuri blinks incredulously as he looks down at his phone screen, “Viktor responded”.

His voice slightly cracks at the last syllable.

Phichit whips his head around to look at Yuuri, "What!?!?".

The sudden movement causes the car to quickly swerve into the opposing lane. Yuuri lets out a small shriek and holds onto the car handle for dear life. Luckily before they can die in a fiery car accident, Phichit returns to the correct lane. The small detour clearly did not faze him as he continues yelling, “Already?!”.

Yuuri nods quickly, one hand still white knuckling the car door. However the stress he feels is only partly from Phichits unpredictable driving. Because Viktor is now, in one way or another, a part of Yuuri’s life.

Unsatisfied with the silence, Phichit urges him to continue, “What did he say?”. His eyebrows are almost touching his hairline from curiosity.

Yuuri closes his eyes and wills himself to let go of the car door. If he doesn't respond to Phichit soon, an actual concussion might just be in his future. “I don’t know,” he admits, “I haven’t opened the actual text, I just saw the words ‘Hi Mr. Katsuki, this is Viktor Nikiforov. I am…' and then I shut the phone off".

Phichit groans and reaches over with one hand to jostle Yuuri’s shoulder, the other hand still resting on the steering wheel (which Yuuri was very grateful for). “Well open it then!”.

Yuuri purses his lips and hums to himself, “hmmm, maybe not yet”.

“Yuuri, c’mon” Phichit responds, interrupting Yuuri’s slight spiral.

“No,” Yuuri shakes his head again, “I’m too scared”.

“I swear to GOD, Yuuri…” Phichit starts, his patience finally starting to go away. Yuuri watches him with wide eyes, “...If you don’t open that message right now, I will take that phone from you and open it myself!”

It seems like Yuuri’s timidness might have pushed Phichit a little too far.

That happens sometimes.

Yuuri is working on it.

“Fine!” he exclaims, pushing himself for what feels like the millionth time in these past two days. Yuuri sighs heavily, “Fine,” he repeats, “But if he responds with making fun of me or something, I am going to blame you forever for making me do this”.

Phichit doesn’t even take a moment to humor Yuuri's delusion, “Okay, cool, now open it”. Yuuri groans again, this time even louder, and begins to read the message to himself. Phichit studies Yuuri’s face as best as he can while driving, but as usual (when Yuuri is not in the middle of freaking out), it doesn’t give way to even an ounce of emotion. “Well?” Phichit asks, growing impatient, “What did he say?”

Yuuri continues staring at the phone, expression as blank and clear as ever. After what feels like forever, Yuuri finally whispers, “...He said he’s interested…”.

Phichit throws his hands into the air, “Yuuri! That’s amazing!”.

Yuuri shrieks and reaches over to steady the steering wheel before the car can swerve again. Phichit takes advantage of this new position to ruffle his hair, “I’m so proud of you, you big dork!”

“Stop touching my head,” Yuuri shouts, “take the wheel!”

Phichit mumbles a “whoopsie” as he grabs the wheel back from Yuuri’s hands.

Leaning back and placing his palm over his heart, Yuuri takes a deep, deep breath. If the shock from Viktors reply doesn’t kill him, Phichit really might. He shakes his head softly to himself. Viktor really did say yes, didn’t he? Although Yuuri might be Viktor’s number one critic, he can’t help but feel extremely flattered, and also a little… thrilled? Because what if Yuuri can do it? What if he can pull out of Viktor the same little boy he used to be. The one who so clearly just wanted to act. Yuuri can’t think of anything better. He looks at Phichit, mouth still straight, but an ever so slight sparkle breaking through in his warm eyes, “I can’t believe it…”.

Phihit smiles back as he pulls the truck into the driveway of their house. “Here,” he says as he parks, “let me see”. Yuuri hands Phichit the phone without hesitation, who reads it over to himself. Once he finishes he looks at Yuuri slyly, “If it’s okay with you, I’m going to reply this time, because honestly I’m shocked he said yes after the message you sent”

Yuuri groans and covers his face with his hands, “I knowww,” he mumbles, “It was bad wasn’t it?”

Phichit nods and unbuckles his seat belt, “Uhhh, yeah. It really, really was”.

A furious blush creeps onto Yuuri’s face as he also unbuckles his seat belt and slinks out of the car. He and Phichit quickly walk inside and then collapse on their mismatched overstuffed couches. Both of them let out a deep sigh as the events of the day sink in and wind down. After a few minutes of letting silence take over and thoughts to decompress, Phichit finally picks Yuuri’s phone back up and goes to the conversation with Viktor. He begins to type, then think, then type, then delete, then type, all while Yuuri watches. Finally seeming satisfied with what he wrote, Phichit nods to himself and turns to Yuuri, “Okay,” he says, “This is what I wrote”. He shoots a shady glance at Yuuri, “Notice how I am reading it to you BEFORE I send it”.

Yuuri rolls his eyes, “I really don’t know what you expected from me, and also it did its job, so read the dang message please”.

“Yeah, yeah,” Phichit replies, “This is what I said”. He begins reading aloud, “Hi Viktor, I’m so glad this is an interesting prospect for you, and I apologize if the last message seemed a little odd. I had a slight head injury, but I am okay now! Regardless, what I said about my interest as well as the pay and the no guarantees of employment is still accurate. But I am thrilled at the idea of our possible partnership, and absolutely no worries if you change your mind at any point in the process. I have attached the logline, treatment, character description (of who you will be auditioning for), and the pages for that audition. I am based in Portland, Oregon, and will be conducting auditions here. I would like to audition you within the next few weeks. Let me know what date and time will work for you, and I will let you know for me as well. Please feel free to reach out if you have any questions along the way! Best, Katsuki Yuuri”.

Yuuri looks at Phichit, “Yeah,” he finally responds, “that was a lot better than what I was going to say”.

“I know,” Phichit tosses the phone back to Yuuri, “You can hit send”.

Yuuri stares at the phone in his hand, stares at the message waiting to be sent, and strangely enough, isn’t as scared anymore. Yes, that will probably come back later, but as for now, he is just excited. Although it might not seem fitting with his other personality traits, Yuuri is competitive as hell and loves rising to the challenge, loves proving himself and his abilities. And this is the perfect opportunity to do all of that and more.

Or more simply put, this is the perfect opportunity to make the best goddamned movie there ever was.

Yuuri finally smiles, and hits send.

Chapter Text

Viktor is starting to think that he might’ve made a small mistake. Or perhaps a series of small mistakes. But he also supposes it doesn’t quite matter how he exactly got here, just that he is here, and he’s completely fucked.

Viktor groans and drops his head into the script pages he holds in his pale hands. He has been practicing for days now, and he feels just as inadequate as he did when he started. For god’s sake, Tommy Wiseau might even be able to out-act him at this point.

With another defeated moan, Viktor pulls his head away from the script and forces himself to read the words again.

And again.

And again.

Viktor throws the pages onto the ground and stands up in a huff. He just isn’t getting it.

Why can’t he get it?

He rakes a clammy hand through his unkempt hair and stares at the strewn out script pages, treatment, and character sheet now gracing his shaggy rug. It seems as if they are mocking him. Viktor narrows his eyes as he stares at the papers. Suddenly the doorbell rings, distracting him from the one way staring contest.

He turns his head to face where the sound floats in from and raises a questioning eyebrow. Who would be at the door at this hour, he wonders? Viktor casts one more short glance at the papers on the floor before abandoning them to answer the door instead. The walk to the entrance is short, as Viktor is in the smaller of his apartments, and he soon finds himself holding the door open to greet his surprise guest.

“Chris?”

Chris turns around and flashes one of his patented Chris™ smiles. “Viky!”, Viktor cringes at the nickname as Chris speaks, “I was beginning to think you were going to abandon little old me at your front step…” He holds himself in mock sadness, “...like a lost puppy, or an unloved infant”.

Viktor rolls his eyes, “You might as well be an unloved infant. You certainly act like one”. He begins to shut the door, not prepared to deal with Chris at this particular moment.

Chris darts his foot out and effectively stops the door from closing, “Hey!” he pushes his way through the door until he is standing in the foyer, “where's the love, Viky?” He points at his foot, “Ow, by the way.”

Viktor scrunches his face at Chris before he turns around and walks back down the hallway, giving up pretty easily, “I don’t care about your foot, I’m busy”.

Chris strides after him, his smile still hanging on, much to Viktor’s annoyance. “Too busy for your best friend?”

Quickly back in the living room, Viktor falls back into the couch and closes his eyes, “Yes,” he mumbles. After a second of silence Viktor furrows his brows in confusion and opens his eyes back up to look at Chis. “Which reminds me,” he questions, “shouldn’t you also be too busy for me? I thought you were filming a movie right now?”

Chris crosses his arms and studies Viktor, “I finished”. He glances around the apartment before looking back at him, “What have you been doing?”

Viktor shrugs and runs his hand over his face, “Eh, this and that”. He looks up at Chris, “Why are you still standing?” He motions to the couch opposite of him, “Sit, sit. You’re weirding me out”.

Chris doesn’t sit and instead focuses his sight on the papers resting on the rug. He takes a step forward and picks them up. “What are these?”

Viktor turns his head away. “Ugh, don’t remind me," he winces as the noise of Chris flipping through the pages ring around his ears, “just an amalgamation of all my failures”.

An amused huff escapes from Chris’ mouth, “And you think I’m dramatic.” He tosses the papers on Viktor’s lap and plops down next to them. He rests a casual arm across the sofa behind Viktor and leans in to look at the papers, “Walk me through it”.

Viktor glances at Chris and then focuses his eyes back on the paper. With a timid hand he reaches to pick the papers back up again. “Well,” he starts, “I suppose I should give some context first”.

“Yes please,” Chris cocks his head, “You do seem a lot more tortured than you usually do about a project, at least more so than if that is just some random script”.

A slow finger runs across the lines of the script as Viktor thinks of what to say. It’s almost like he hopes that by feeling the words, they will suddenly float through his mouth and just… work. But they don’t, and it doesn’t. Because Chris is once again, surprisingly, correct. This is absolutely not just some random script, in far more ways than it just being written by the director he slightly idolizes. Viktor drops his hand from the text and looks at some empty point across the room. “I thought that for once I could make something that mattered”, he twists his lips as he speaks.

Chris’ smile finally drops as concern for his friend washes over him instead. “Hey,” he whispers, “What’s going on?”

Viktor slinks to his side until he is laying down across the sofa with his legs tossed onto Chris’ lap. “Well,” he says, draping a dramatic arm across his face, “It all started when I was born…”

An inching grin finds its way back onto Chris’ face. “That might be a little too far back, Viky,” he teases.

Viktor drops his arm away from his face to glare at Chris, who only winks in return. “Ugh,” Viktor groans, and scooches his way back to sitting. “Okay,” he starts, “basically all I’ve been making my entire career is garbage. Popular, yes, but also very, very garbage”. Chris slowly rocks his head back and forth as he considers what Viktor says. “And yes it pays well, and yes I have all the fame and notoriety I could want,” Viktor continues, “but I don’t want it. I want to really be worth something. I want my work to be worth something”. Viktor’s voice goes soft, “I don’t want to be forgotten as just another worthless, pretty face”.

The papers that now rest between Viktor and Chris catches Chris’ eyes again. He reaches out and nudges them, “And that has to do with these?”

Viktor nods, “I finally have the chance to make something important”. He points at the cover sheet of the script pages and points at the words that read ‘Written by Katsuki Yuuri’. “This director,” he says, “makes the most beautiful movies I have ever seen. Watching them is the only time lately, or maybe in forever, that I genuinely feel inspired…”

“Let me guess, he’s cute too?” Chris asks as he wiggles his eyebrows.

Viktor shakes his head, “I don’t know. I don’t know what he looks like, or even how old he is. It’s not about that”. He points at the name on the cover once again, “It’s about his words. And his art. I shouldn’t need to expect anything else”.

Chris studies him, “But you do?”

“No” Viktor says quickly before he pauses, “...I don’t know”. He takes note of the dirty look on Chris’ face and scoffs, “But get your head out of the gutter, I only mean as a mentor or a friend or something”. Chris chuckles at this. “But it doesn’t matter, because I somehow actually got the chance to audition for his new movie, and I’m simply put, not good enough”. Viktor gives a self-deprecating laugh, “Who would've thought that after being in the industry for over twenty years, I would only get worse with each movie that comes out?”

Chris reaches out and slugs Viktor on the shoulder, “Now who’s acting like the unloved infant?” Viktor says nothing as he just rubs the spot Chris smacked. Sighing at this, Chris sincerely asks, “Don’t you think you’re being a little hard on yourself?”

Viktor shakes his head, “No, I don’t”. He begins to emphasize his words with his hands as he continues, “I don’t play real people. I play characters, or caricatures more like. So I don’t know how to do real emotion, real feelings. Which is exactly what Katsuki’s characters need, because that's what they are! Real”. He sighs as he drops his hands, “Which I am just unable to do. I’ve run the lines over, and over, and over again. And I just sound like an idiot”.

“Well,” Chris leans forward, “have you ever tried not acting?”

Viktor scrunches up his face, “What, like quit?”

“No, no,” Chris shakes his head, “I mean, stop looking at it from the point of view of an actor, and start looking at it from the point of view of a person”. He pokes a pointed finger into Viktor’s chest, “What can you connect with? What can you feel from these words that no one else can? Just find that, and then express it as you. Simple as that”.

Viktor frowns as he considers Chris’ words, “Doesn’t sound so simple”.

“Hah,” Chris laughs, “trust me, it is”. He stands up, “although I have loved this depressing little visit,” Viktor huffs in amusement as Chris continues, “I feel like you actually do have more important things than me, so I will bid you adieu.”

The script pages take Viktor’s full attention once again, “Cool, you can see yourself out” he responds.

Chris laughs at this and gets up to leave, “Bye bye, Viky”.

Viktor absentmindedly waves, “Bye”. Chris turns to strut back out of the room, but before he can, Viktor looks up at him, “Hey, Chris?”

Chris glances back, “Yeah?”

A small smile makes its way to Viktor’s face, “Thank you”.

Chris chuckles in amusement and disappears down the hall, leaving Viktor, once again, very alone.

The script pages feel heavy in his hands and he stares at them with sucked in cheeks. Chris was more onto something than he might’ve realized, and that is part of Viktor’s problem. The character Viktor is auditioning for is someone he can heavily, heavily relate to. And he hates that part of himself. He hates it. He wants to kill it, to snuff it out and never let it see the light of day. So how can he approach it as himself and not a character, when this already is too much of every disgusting part of himself? Sure the actual character's life is very far from his own, not even close in fact, but the emotions are all too familiar.

Viktor reads the character's description to himself once again.

‘Name: Ramsay Stavros

Age: 30

Occupation: Craft Store Owner/Manager

Appearance: Shaggy hair that is usually unkempt. Top lip mustache that is neat and tidy. Wears well fitted plain (tan, brown, cream) colored suits for work, yet always wears a fun tie. Does not wear casual clothes outside of his pajamas for when he sleeps, and opts to stay in his suits most of the time. His demeanor is awkward yet overbearing in a way that expresses discomfort with himself and the world around him. Yet he does try to have an air of kindness as he truly wants to be good and nice, and to an extent, truly is.

Personality: Ramsay is essentially a cathedral built of shame. He is ashamed of his desire to be kind, he is ashamed of his inclination towards timidness, and he is ashamed that he doesn’t know how to interact with the world. His entire life he has had it reinforced by his father that he is not meant to be the way he is. He is meant to be a man, he is meant to be powerful, he is meant to be relentless. He is meant to be loved. And Ramsay is not. Although Ramsay wants to reject this and embrace who he truly is now that he is an adult, he finds it hard, and those two sides are often in battle within him, causing his outward personality to be quite odd. He is not sure how to relate to people, how to decide which side of him they could potentially want, and how to just simply, be.

Family: Father (abusive throughout Ramsay’s life. Did not know how to be a parent. Was not capable of relating to others), Mother (kind, but a pushover of a woman who Ramsay cannot help but to resent for not only letting his Father treat her terribly without doing anything to stop it, but allowed him to treat Ramsay terribly as well). No siblings.’

The words tumble together in Viktor’s mind as he reads them, and he cannot help but to feel a little called out by them. He certainly knows a thing or two about wearing a mask, about everyone expecting something different from him and losing himself along the process. And honestly, when Viktor thinks too hard about it, when he thinks about who he might’ve been without all of this, or who he will be after it’s all over, a deep sadness almost akin to regret nestles its way into his heart. It is the same type of aching pull that overwhelms every time he smells something reminiscent of the ten dollar perfume his mother used to wear, or when he finds that moon shaped scar on his ankle from the time he pinched himself so hard he started to cry. Viktor knows a thing or two about wearing a mask, yes, but the biggest thing he knows is that he will never be able to put his down.

The pages lightly crumple under the weight of Viktor’s fingers as he squeezes them shut. He doesn’t notice how they wrinkle, he just thinks about how pressure is the most dangerous thing of all. He thinks about Chris’ words, ‘Stop looking at it from the point of view of an actor, and start looking at it from the point of view of a person’. But isn’t that half of Viktor’s mess now? It’s too real, too, too real.

But Viktor also wants to be good. He wants to be loved. He wants to be felt. And if he keeps after the roles he’s been taking, the second his waist grows a few inches, or that damn hairline finally recedes, Viktor will be left behind. Forgotten. Just like that. So he needs to act. He needs to feel. He doesn’t have a choice.

Chris’ words once again find their way into Viktor’s brain, ‘ What can you feel from these words that no one else can? Just find that, and then express it as you. Simple as that’.

So, it seems like Viktor needs to go searching.

Chapter Text

Yuuri is going to be meeting Viktor in roughly two hours, thirty-seven minutes, and twenty-five, no, twenty-four seconds, and he isn’t quite sure what to do with that information.

A nonstop twitch has been running wild in Yuuri’s red-rimmed, and still slightly bruised, eyes. He knows that he must look like nothing short of an absolute madman. Not that it really matters what Yuuri looks like. Or at least that’s what he tries to tell himself as he stands in front of the mirror and watches that damn eyelid dance.

The hundreds of papers spread across Yuuri’s bed catch his line of sight through the the mirrors reflection. A panic surges through his brain for the millionth time as he convinces himself, once again, that he is forgetting something important. He spins away from the mirror and leaps over to the bed, almost like a demented cat, and starts to frantically dig through the papers.

“Knock knock!”, Phichts cheery voice floats from the outside of the door, before he opens it without waiting for a response. Yuuri whips around, still kneeling on his bed, and stares at Phichit with a mix of guilt and panic. “Jesus,” Phichit exclaims as he takes in the sight of Yuuri, “did you get rabies or something?”

“No!” Yuuri shouts all too genuinely, causing Phichit to jump at the suddenness, and loudness, of his response.

“Okay, crazy,” he steps forward with his hands in mock surrender as he studies Yuuri closely, “are you drunk?”

Yuuri shakes his head furiously, “No!” A sigh escapes his mouth as he drops his head into his hands, “But I wish I was”. He tilts his head back up and looks at Phichit with a dangerous glint in his eye, “Should I get drunk?”

In seconds Phichit is sitting next to Yuuri, having rushed to the bed. “No. No, definitely don’t do that”.

Yuuri continues to look at Phichit. He narrows his eyebrows as if he is trying to solve a very complicated puzzle. “Should I kill myself then?”

“Yuuri!” Phichit exclaims, “No! Clearly no!” He runs his hand down the side of his face and shakes his head, “What the hell is the matter with you?”

Yuuri blinks dumbly. “Oh, sorry.”

Phichit just frowns at him.

“I was just throwing out ideas” he mumbles.

Phichit continues to frown.

“Gosh,” Yuuri jumps off the bed and begins to pace, “I don’t know why I’m so nervous. I shouldn’t even care! It’s just an audition!”

“Yeah,” Phichit exhales as he breaks his silence, “It is, but it’s also kind of not. And I think it’s okay to recognize that”. Yuuri stops pacing and stares at him. “But Yuuri,” Phichit continues, “you really need to calm the fuck down regardless. You and Viktor are both professionals. Just keep your mind on your movie and your goal, it’ll be okay”.

Yuuri twists his mouth as he thinks before he nods his head slowly, “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right”. He turns to look back in the mirror and winces at his appearance, “I suppose I should get dressed”.

Phichit scans his eyes over the chaotic state of Yuuri, “Um, yeah, you should.” The papers on the bed catch his attention as well and he gathers them in his hand as he stands up. “Also,” he holds the papers up so Yuuri can see, “I’m confiscating these for now”. And with that, Phichit leaves the room, and Yuuri is left all by his lonesome.

“Okay,” Yurri whispers to himself, “what would a cool, hip filmmaker wear?”

He starts to pull clothes out of his closet until he finds what he deems to be an adequate outfit. In a frenzy, Yuuri pulls all the clothes on, bumping his glasses off his face in the process. With blurry vision he feels the floor for his circular, thin gold frames. Yuuri whispers a thanks to whatever God might be out there as he feels the curves of the frame brush against his fingertips. Quickly pulling them on, Yuuri takes in his newly outfitted appearance in the mirror. He wears a pair of 1950 style loose, high waisted, warm brown pants, as well as a cream colored button down. Over the button down he wears a fitted sweater vest with a knitted image of a mallard duck. Brown leather shoes and his signature house key tied with a black string hanging loose around his neck finish the look. He and Phichit both started wearing it like that years ago after the fifth time they had to change their locks because of losing their keys. They have not had to change them since.

Yuuri nods to himself. Perfect. Hip and stylish!

The next stop is the bathroom so he can wash and moisturize his face. Sadly outside of that, there is nothing Yuuri can do to help the rest of the state of his appearance. Luckily the swelling is gone, but the light bruise under his eye and along his cheek is still there. He supposes he could try to conceal it, but Yuuri has never tried that before, and he wouldn’t really know where to start. Plus he doesn’t have time to run to the store. Oh well, looks like he is just going to have to meet Viktor looking like Tyler Durden after a fun night out. Yuuri also regards that his hair is another lost cause for now. A haircut is definitely in his future, but today the shaggy black strands that reach about an inch below his ears are what he is working with. Luckily his hair has some pretty good natural volume, and after brushing it out, it doesn’t look too bad.

The alarm that Yuuri set on his phone to warn him when there is only one hour left rings loudly. Yuuri swears under his breath and grabs his phone to turn the alarm off. It looks like he can’t put this off any longer. He tries to remember what Phichit said as he rushes down the stairs. Yuuri is under no obligation to hire Viktor, and there is no reason to be this intimidated. Viktor is just any other human being. There's nothing actually special about him, Yuuri has no reason to be so stressed.

“Phichit!” Yuuri screams out to the top of the stairs when he reaches the bottom, “Let’s go!”

Phichit walks out of the room next to Yuuri with his hands, one still holding Yuuri’s papers, clamped over his ears and a wince on his face, “Why are you yelling, I’m right here”.

A blush of embarrassment brushes Yuuri’s cheeks, “Oopsie, my bad”.

Phichit cocks his head at him, but says nothing. A studying look passes over his face as he scans Yuuri up and down. “That’s what you're wearing to meet Viktor?” he finally asks.

Yuuri glances down at his duck sweater vest and looks back up, “Yeah, what's wrong with it?” he responds.

“I mean it’s cute,” Phichit shrugs, “But it’s not very sexy…”

Now Yuuri is really blushing. He throws his hands over his body in a show of modesty and stutters out, “Why would I try to look sexy?!”

Phichit looks at Yuuri like he has three heads, “Duh… Because he’s freaking sexy!”

With every word Phichit says, Yuuri’s face grows impossibly hotter. He turns away from Phichit and covers his face with his hands, “I’m trying to hire him,” he exclaims, “not have sex with him!”

“Ooooh,” Phichits voice fills with excitement. He walks over and throws his arms around Yuuri, who just groans in response, and lightly shakes him, “So you are trying to hire him!”

Yuuri shakes his head rapidly and shrugs Phichits arms off from his frame, “I don’t know, Phichit!” He grabs the papers from Phichit and grabs the car keys from the basket near the door and chucks them at him, “Let’s go!”

“Ow!” Phichit whines when the car keys hit him square in the chest before dropping to the floor. He reaches down to pick them up, “that was unnecessary…”, he starts to say, before realizing that Yuuri is no longer standing there, probably having escaped when Phichit bent down. “Twerp” Phichit mumbles under his breath as he too leaves the house, locking the door behind him.

Yuuri sits in the car and stares straight ahead into the garage. The deep, meditative breaths he is taking are not doing much to help his cracking mental state, and Phichit certainly was not helping either. The papers shift in and out of Yuuri’s hands as he plays with them without realizing. What is Viktor going to think of him? This is the question Yuuri has been trying to ignore, but now most definitely cannot. Not that Yuuri has plans to seduce Viktor or anything, but he wants to at least be able to hold his own beside him. Yuuri has never believed himself to be much of a looker, or much of a charmer, or much of a competent human being in general. The only good thing about himself is his art. And how much of that is actually him and how much is just stuff he’s managed to cook up in his odd, little brain? The answer to that question is something Yuuri does not think he will ever be able to answer. And honestly the answer doesn’t really matter at all, because even if he is his art, he will never look like his art. He will never act like his art. And he will never charm like his art. Yuuri gnaws on his lip. He is pretty sure Viktor is going to hate him.

The sound of the car door opening pulls Yuuri from his thoughts as Phichit slides into the passenger seat. He looks at Yuuri with a wide smile on his face, “Let’s go”.

Yuuri forces down a panicked swallow. He nods, “Let’s go”.

Luckily the drive was not too long, and they made it to the office building they rented a room in for auditions. It is large and gray and cold, and Yuuri cannot help but to feel exactly the same way.

What the hell has he gotten himself into?

Within no time at all they are set up in the little office. Two chairs sit behind a gray table for the two men, while a single Panasonic DVX is set up to record the audition. Yuuri's phone rings out the alarm for fifteen minutes until Viktor’s audition. At this moment, Yuuri is pretty sure he has never heard anything more terrifying. He whips around to Phichit, big racking breaths taking a hold of his chest. “Phichit,” he wheezes out, “I don’t think I can do this”. With shaking hands, Yuuri tries to adjust his slipping glasses, “I don’t think I can do this…” he says again, getting increasingly panicked.

“Woah,” Phichit steps forward and puts his hands on Yuuri’s shoulders, “breathe, Yuuri, breathe”. He squeezes his shoulders comfortingly as Yuuri tries to force breaths in, “You’re going to make yourself sick…” Phichit mumbles out.

“Uh,” A charming, yet very awkward voice rings out, “I hope I’m not interrupting anything…”

Yuuri freezes as the distinct Russian accent sinks into his brain. Scratch what he thought earlier, THIS is the most terrifying thing he has ever heard.

Phichit slowly turns his head to face the voice, and Yuuri leans to the side to be able to see around him. Both of them gape at Viktor Nikiforv, standing there in all his glory, with open mouths.

Viktor smiles clumsily, and distractedly scratches the back of his head, “Hi, I’m Viktor, nice to meet you guys”.

Yuuri and Phichit continue to gape. But how can they not? The current king of Hollywood is standing right in front of them. The first thing Yuuri notices is how there is not a single freckle or mole on Viktors skin. It is one beautiful expanse of clear, glowing white. Like fresh snow, or the light that floats away from the moon in the black of night. In fact, his hair must have been borrowed from the moon as well. The soft and silver locks spill gracefully over his eye, a dichotomy in an otherwise neat hairstyle. And his features somehow seem so kind despite the sharpness of them. How can any one human be so beautiful? Yuuri’s ears burn as this thought crosses his mind.

“Um,” Viktor says as he slowly steps into the room, clearly not expecting this reaction, or maybe more like the lack of reaction, “Sorry that I’m early. My dad always drilled into my head that ‘if you’re not early, you’re late’”, he finishes the sentence off with mock scolding. Viktor chuckles, “It’s one of the few things he got to teach me”.

Yuuri and Phichit continue to gape.

Viktor stares back. He takes another tiny step forward, “Sorry, that was oversharing maybe?” Silence meets his ears. “I’m not usually like this, I swear” he jokes as he grapples for something to say. No response is given back. Viktor clears his throat in discomfort, “I’m sorry,” he says again, “do you want me to leave?”

Phichit finally manages to snap out of it at this. He drops his hands from Yuuri’s arms and turns around with his whole body this time. “No!” he says too loudly, causing Viktor to jolt slightly. “No,” he tries again, softer this time and steps forward, “I’m sorry about that, I’m gonna be totally honest in saying that we were just nervous, and then surprised about your arrival, but please don’t leave!”

A genuine, very not awkward, smile makes its way to Viktor’s face as he nods and walks all the way in the room, reaching out to shake Phichit’s hand. “No worries, you’re Yuuri Katsuki I presume?”

Phichit laughs and shakes his head, “No, no, my name is Phichit Chulanont, I’m Yuuri’s assistant of sorts. We kinda just help each other out on whatever film one of us is making at the time!”

“Ahhh,” Viktor chuckles. Yuuri tries to ignore how nice it sounds. Viktor drops Phichit’s hand and steps forward to a rooted Yuuri, “So you must be…” his words still for a moment when his gaze finally lands on Yuuri. Viktor’s icy, silver eyes widen for just a moment, so quick that Yuuri almost misses it, before they go back to normal. Yuuri must have something on his face. Viktor clears his throat and begins again with a warm grin, “You must be Yuuri Katsuki?”

Yuuri nods his head a little too quickly. Realizing the lack of grace he is showing, his ever present blush grows once again. “Yes,” he forces out, “I’m Yuuri”.

Viktor smirks ever so slightly and sticks out his hand to shake Yuuri’s.

Yuuri looks down at the hand and hesitantly places his own in Viktor’s, trying not to pay attention to how long and pale and slender Viktor’s fingers are, especially compared to his own. A steady coolness floats from Viktor’s skin into Yuuri’s as he shakes it softly up and down. Yuuri finally manages to tear his eyes away from their hands to look up At Viktor instead, only to find that he is already staring down at him through pale eyelashes. Viktor smiles at the eye contact and says, “It’s nice to meet you, Yuuri”.

The sudden intensity of the interaction shocks Yuuri, and he not so subtly yanks his hand away. He turns from Viktor, knowing that his face is probably just a beet at this point, and ambles over to his chair. “Let’s begin the audition” he says slightly too forcefully as he drops to his seat. But how else is Yuuri supposed to react? Especially when Viktor just said his name like that? All long and drawn out, exactly how it should be? Yuuri has to pull himself out of this funk immediately, or else he has no idea what he will do with himself the rest of the audition.

Viktor chuckles again, “Yes,” he strides over, “Let’s begin”.

Chapter Text

Viktor is going to be meeting Yuuri Katsuki in approximately thirty minutes, and he isn’t quite sure what to do with that information.

He can’t help but repeat the thought, ‘I wish there was more time’, to himself. In fact, that's all he’s been thinking since he got the pages in the first place. But if he’s really being honest, all the time in the world would never have been enough. Viktor just doesn’t have it anymore, that spark, if he ever even had it at all.

Viktor rubs his lips together as he thinks about how, weirdly enough, this is probably the first time in ages that he has gone into an audition without an almost guaranteed role. He tries to tell himself that that is the only reason he is so messed up about this audition now, but that reason would only fool everybody but himself. Despite hours of practice and hours of soul-searching, Viktor never got any closer to preparing an even halfway decent audition.

So, what the hell is he doing here?

Being driven to meet an actually competent filmmaker and talented individual who will probably look through his bullshit charm and his bullshit acting in seconds.

Well, if there is one thing that Viktor knows for sure, it’s that only a freaking miracle is gonna get him this role.

“We’re here, Mr. Nikiforov,” the driver says suddenly.

Viktor furrows his eyebrows and glances out the window to see the stark gray office building laid out in front of him. How such a mundane building could hold such a terrifying presence, he may never know. A pair of gloomy looking office workers catch his attention and he watches them trod into the building.

Viktor can’t help but to feel a little guilty.

This building probably sucks for a lot of people, and for way more valid reasons than Viktor’s pitiful self doubt. Sometimes he forgets how lucky he is, how his life is something that so many people would kill for. But why can’t he feel gratitude for it? Why does he only feel so much spite that he’s pretty sure it would drown him if he thought about it for too long. ‘Look at the alternative’, he tries to tell himself, ‘look at how good you have it, look at where you could be’. But it doesn’t work, because this alternative isn’t making Viktor happy either.

And now, this building is so much more than just a chopping block, it is a stark reminder that probably nothing will ever make Viktor truly happy.

“Mr. Nikiforov?” the driver tries again, his head not even sparing a glance at Viktor, just staring straight ahead.

Viktor scoffs, he wouldn’t want to look at himself right now either.

The driver continues, “The audition starts in fifteen minutes, do you want me to park and wait? Or are you getting out?”

Viktor sighs softly and tries not to think about the slight shakiness that takes a hold of the sound. A sad smile forms over his features as he nods, “Yeah, I’m getting out. Best to be a little early anyway”.

The driver nods as Viktor climbs out of the backseat of the car. He shuts the door a little too hard, and relishes in the sound of the slam. Of metal hitting metal.

The trip to the audition room is a short one, and one filled with surprisingly little thought. Viktor supposes he might be past thought at this point.

Soft muffled voices fill Viktor’s ears as he finds the right door and walks closer to it. Unfortunately for him, however, Viktor has never been granted the gift of good timing. Or the gift of being able to read the room particularly well. And it is to Viktor’s dismay that he did not realize the voices he was hearing were clearly having an important, PRIVATE, conversation until his hand was on the door, and the door was opened, and two men appeared in front of him that seemed to be grasping on to each other.

Viktor’s mouth forms an O as he stares at the sight in front of him. He can only see the back of the one man, but can see the arms of the one he is holding on to, and he cannot quite hear what they are saying. But he is pretty sure regardless, that he is not supposed to be here for it. Especially because, from this view at least, it looks like they might be about to kiss. As much as Viktor would like to turn around and run with his tail between his legs, he is not sure he is going to be able to leave without making at least a little noise, so it seems like the only thing to do now is to make himself known. He inwardly cringes as he clears his throat and opens his mouth. “Uh,” he begins clumsily “I hope I’m not interrupting anything…”

Unsurprisingly, the two men whip around and stare at Viktor, shock and embarrassment completely clear on their faces. And now, Viktor feels like a complete asshole. He cannot remember the last time he has felt so absolutely mortified. Usually when he does something socially inept, which is quite often, he doesn’t even notice because nobody points it out. But this is too painfully obvious to ignore or breeze past... but that won’t stop Viktor from trying!

He scratches the back of his head without meaning to and dies a little at how much more awkward that must make him look. “Hi, I’m Viktor, nice to meet you guys” he finally manages to get out.

No response.

Kill him. Kill him now.

Viktor tries to shake it off, and turn it around, but this interaction has been nothing short of catastrophic so far, so he doubts it will get better now.

He tries to ignore the look of shock in their faces by straight up just not looking at them. He thinks he would actually die if any of their eyes were to meet right now. “Um,” Viktor takes a tentative step into the room, “Sorry that I’m early. My dad always drilled into my head that ‘if you’re not early, you’re late’” he says with a mock scolding finger.

Unexpectedly, a heavy wave of nostalgia washes over him, and all he can do to ward off the pain that comes with thinking about something for too long, is to chuckle. “It’s one of the few things he got to teach me” he finishes.

Yet again, no response.

Viktor’s stomach is starting to hurt. Why the fuck did he just bring that up? Viktor never talks about his dad, especially not to two random strangers who have yet to even say one word back to him. Viktor always considered himself charming, but this interaction is definitely proving him wrong.

He takes another small step forward, hoping his face isn’t as flushed as it feels, and smiles sheepishly, “Sorry, that was oversharing maybe?” Silence. Nothing but painful silence. “I’m not usually like this, I swear” he half- jokes, although that statement is entirely true. Viktor feels as if he’s been dropped on another planet.

A planet where people refuse to respond.

Although, this is probably Viktor’s fault.

He definitely walked in at the wrong time, and he ABSOLUTELY should have knocked. He supposes that after a lifetime of people fawning over him, he has forgotten basic manners just a tad bit. Sadly, it feels too late and too odd to try to save this interaction anymore. How he managed to fumble his dream so quickly, Viktor is not sure, but he does know that only someone like himself would have been able to manage that. He clears his throat and tries to ignore the frustration tears that are itching to well up, “I’m sorry,” he repeats, “do you want me to leave?”

Luckily, just as Viktor was about to decide the answer to that question himself, the man closer to him seems to jolt out of his trance. He completely turns around and shouts “No!”

Viktor is not ashamed to admit that it made him jump a little bit.

He stares at the man with wide eyes and starts to wonder if this really is the beginning to a very weird murder plot that Viktor considered might happen after getting Katsuki’s first message.

“No,” the man says again, softer this time, which calms Viktor’s nerves a little bit. He steps forward as he shakes his hands back and forth in apology, “I’m sorry about that, I’m gonna be totally honest in saying that we were just extremely nervous, and then surprised about your arrival, but please don’t leave!”

Sweet, sweet relief floods through Viktors as, for the first time since he walked into the building, a genuine smile grows on his face. Suddenly his confidence is turned on, and he tries not to think about the very real possibility of bombing the audition. Fake it till you make it. He strides all the way into the room and reaches out to shake the man’s hand, “No worries, you’re Yuuri Katsuki I presume?” he asks. Much to the delight of Viktor, it looks like Mr. Katsuki is not some weird old man. He just looks like a cool guy, someone Viktor could absolutely see himself becoming good friends with.

The man laughs and shakes his head as he returns Viktors handshake, “No, no, my name is Phichit Chulanont, I’m Yuuri’s assistant of sorts. We kinda just help each other out on whatever film one of us is making at the time!”

Viktor tries to hide his surprise that this confident and assertive guy is not the director, and chuckles instead, “Ahhh,” he says and lets go of Phichit’s hand to turn to the only other guy in the room.

Yet now that he has a moment to actually think about it, a pulsing anxiety sets in Viktor's heart as he considers the fact that he is finally about to really meet the man, the artist, that he has idolized for who knows how many years now. He takes a deep breath as his eyes finally land on the person standing behind Phichit, “So you must be…”

He stops.

Something Viktor was absolutely not expecting is taking place right before his very eyes.

Yuuri Katsuki is the most gorgeous human being he has ever seen.

As he stares into Katsuki’s warm brown, almost golden eyes, he feels his mouth dry up. Is it normal for a human to have eyelashes that long and dark? Viktor likes how they face down instead of up, it makes them look like the curtain into an absolutely breath-taking exhibit. He has to physically force away the urge to shake his head like some love-stricken cartoon character, and instead tries to morph his face into the smoothest, most heart-stopping grin he can manage and drawls out, “You must be Yuuri Katsuki?”

Is it inappropriate for him to flirt?

Probably.

But Viktor decides not to care. And at this moment, he is really, really hoping that these two men were not in fact about to kiss, and that Phichit is one hundred percent Katsuki’s friend.

Viktor gazes at him as Yuuri nods his head erratically. It reminds Viktor of a frightened forest creature. He can’t help but to find it absolutely endearing. “Yes,” Yuuri finally says, “I’m Yuuri”.

His voice doesn’t sound quite as soft as Viktor expected it to based on his appearance, in fact it sounds slightly deep and quite rich, but still surprisingly delicate, and with a hint of a japanese accent. Viktor likes it. He really, really likes it.

He looks down at Yuuri's outfit and is greeted with the image of a large duck. No director in Hollywood would be caught dead wearing something like that to a casting meeting, and that just adds to the reasons why Viktor loves it. It's adorable. And although he doesn't truly know Yuuri yet, he can tell it is deeply, unapologetically, him.

A smirk grows on Viktor’s face without him even realizing, and he lifts his hand up for Yuuri to shake. He is a little ashamed at just how excited he is to see what his hand feels like. Viktor watches as Yuuri tentatively reaches out to return the shake with his eyes casted down. His hand is soft and warm, and they feel small in his own. It is a feeling that Viktor thinks he would like to get used to. Yuuri’s downcasted eyes also allow Viktor to shamelessly take in the beautiful man’s appearance. His complexion is light but warm, somehow seeming tan and pale all at the same time. Almost like a dark coolness, despite that being a dichotomy in of itself. Perhaps it's his stark black hair that adds to that effect. But no matter what it is, it looks incredible. Yuuri is otherworldly. And as much as Viktor would like to study every single feature of his face, and maybe other places too, he has to remind himself that this is for business. He is here for a job. But Yuuri seems intent on rendering him defenseless, because the minute Viktor reaches that conclusion, Yuuri finally looks up from their hands and stares straight into Viktor’s eyes.

The sudden eye contact and the now close proximity feels like Viktor got shot right through the heart. Within seconds of meeting Yuuri, he has already felt more feelings than he has in years, and Viktor does not know what to do about it. He wishes he could have met Yuuri before this audition, maybe that way when he was practicing for it, he wouldn’t have been so emotionally deaf. But it’s too late, he is here now, and he needs to do a good job. He needs to. Viktor lets a smile fill his face as he lets the words slip softly from his lips, “It’s nice to meet you, Yuuri”.

Yuuri looks shocked at this, and not in the way Viktor was hoping, or the way people usually are when he is smooth with them. He yanks his hand away and turns around, and Viktor feels a bit like an idiot, again.

He is just another brain dead actor after all, what would Yuuri want with him? Other than someone to hopefully do his incredible work justice. Viktor watches him drop into his seat and looks through some papers on his desk, he somewhat aggressively says “Let’s begin the audition”, and then nothing else.

Ouch.

Viktor can’t help but chuckle at his own stupidity. That’s what he gets for letting his head run wild, even if it was for the first time in forever. “Yes,” he walks over to stand in front of Yuuri, “Let’s begin”.

Yuuri clears his throat and, with his eyes still glued to the papers, reaches his hand out to the camera next to him to press a button. Viktor watches as a red light in the front of the camera comes to life, making it clear that it is now recording. Despite spending the majority of his life in front of a camera, there is something about this single red light that is incredibly paralyzing. And maybe also the two golden eyes that sit next to it.

Viktor wants to do a good job. He wants to do a good job so badly it hurts.

Putting aside Viktor’s new attraction to this man, he has been smitten with Yuuri’s art long before he had any idea of who he would be in real life. Viktor wants to do good for that Yuuri more than anything. He wants to impress and move him as he too has been impressed and moved. He wants to make Yuuri feel in a way he has never felt before, just as Viktor has himself. Even if Yuuri was a hideous old man, Viktor would probably be just as nervous and absolutely desperate to do well as he is now. But now that he knows Yuuri is not at all a hideous old man, he hopes that, god forbid, even if he does fail, maybe Yuuri can find room in his heart to keep him around in some capacity or another. Viktor already aches to get to know him better, and not just just as an artist, but as a person. Even if he royally screwed up this first introduction, he would like to meet Yuuri again, and again, and again.

Phichit hurries over and sits next to Yuuri at the table. He offers Viktor a kind smile, which honestly helps a lot, especially because Yuuri has yet to look at him again.

“Okay,” he starts, finally glancing up at him again. Much to Viktor’s surprise, something about Yuuri seems to have changed. He doesn’t seem quite so timid or scared anymore. His eye contact is strong, his back is straight, and his voice is steady, even, and clear. It is immediately obvious how seriously Yuuri takes his work, and Viktor can’t help but to admire it. No wonder his films always yield such magical results. “I assume given your extensive experience that you can be off book for this audition?” Yuuri asks.

Viktor nods his head with confidence, “Of course”.

Yuuri doesn’t take a moment to praise him for this, as most directors or producers seem to do whenever Viktor does something semi-decently, and despite the initial shock from this, Viktor kind of likes it. Yuuri is definitely not one to infantilize an actor, and because of that, Viktor is in completely unknown and completely exciting new territory.

In this room, unlike any other room he has ever been in, his vision of himself will become entirely clear. No one will lie to him or tell him exactly what he wants to hear, and in this, Viktor hopes to find himself at least a little bit.

“I would like to audition both of the scenes that I have sent you,” Yuuri begins, “I know that because I have not sent you the entire script for security purposes, that your vision of Ramsay may be different than the fully realized version I have, and that's completely okay”. Viktor nods as he tries his best to fully listen to everything Yuuri says. Yuuri shuffles through his papers, “I'm interested to see how you interpret the character and if there are any changes that would be beneficial to add to the final character and the final, final draft. If you don’t have any questions, I would like to start with the scene where Ramsay has an uncomfortable interaction with one of the customers at the craft store he owns. Phichit will be reading for the customer”.

Viktor clenches and unclenches his hands and nods, “Sounds perfect”. He hopes that his voice doesn’t sound like how he feels right now. He has to nail this. He has to. Deep down, Viktor knows that without this, he will have nothing. Nothing that matters. Nothing that lasts. He needs this.

“Excellent, you can start whenever”.

***

Viktor reads the last line, feeling incredibly awkward. And not in the way that the character of Ramsay is supposed to be awkward.

That was not good.

Viktor knows that that was not good. He’s spent his entire life trying to learn how to be charming and likable, and now he doesn’t know how to turn it off. All anyone ever wants from him is perfect and charming and likable, and now it is all he knows how to give.

Viktor watches in dismay as Yuuri twists his lips and jots some notes down on his papers.

Sadly, Phichit doesn’t seem any more impressed than his counterpart.

Why don’t time machines exist?

He doubts that even if he went back in time to do the audition again that he would be any better, but maybe he could just go back and stop his parents from meeting so that he never would have been born in the first place.

“Okay,” Yuuri finally says, breaking this unbearable silence, “Let’s move on to the next scene where you are confronting your father. I know I gave you pages for this, but those pages are actually not going to be in the movie. There is a major plot point of this film that I want to keep somewhat private from people who may not end up being a part of this movie. But it is still going to be about a confrontation with Ramsay’s father. Hopefully the fact that the scene you practiced being in a similar vein is helpful to what I am going to ask you to do now.”

Viktor pauses as the potential weight of Yuuri’s words sink in. This could be a very good thing or a very bad thing seeing as the scene he had practiced was even worse for him than the previous one. If he tried to do that scene, he probably would have been laughed out of the room. But on the other hand, Viktor doesn’t particularly enjoy going into something like this competently blind. At least not anymore, not since he forgot what it meant to be talented.

Yuuri continues before Viktor can overthink it too much, “I would like you to just talk for us. Pretend that your father, or father figure, or whoever applicable, is sitting in front of you, and you can say anything you want to them, and they just have to listen”. Viktor feels his chest go cold. “They can’t respond, or yell, or cry, or laugh, they just have to be quiet and be there. Just talk to them. Tell them what you’ve always wanted to tell them,” Yuuri pauses, perhaps noticing the panic on Viktor’s face that he is trying to conceal, before beginning again with surprisingly gentle voice, “I understand this is a really personal ask, but I am afraid I have to insist that this is part of the audition. I care about heart, and honesty is at the core of that. Is this something you can do?”

Viktor pinches his leg lightly as he tries to think straight. He understands why Yuuri wants this, especially from the perspective of knowing how powerful and effective his movies are. It is just becoming more and more clear that Viktor might not be the person who can help make it happen.

But he has to at least attempt it.

Viktor would never forgive himself if he let this opportunity slip through his fingers as he currently is. Viktor winces as he stops pinching himself and looks at Yuuri directly. And with the most honesty and vulnerability that Viktor can possibly show, he mumbles “Uh, I don’t know”. Yuuri’s eyebrows slightly raise as Viktor says this, and he can’t help but notice how intrigued he looks for the first time since Viktor started the actual audition. Viktor smiles, but not in a cocky way, just in a way where he doesn’t know what else to do with his face, “But I’ll try” he finishes.

Yuuri surprisingly smiles back at him. It is quick and soft, but Viktor relishes in it regardless. He gets up from his seat and pulls an empty chair over to face Viktor. After dragging the chair into place, Yuuri sits back down in his previous seat and points to the chair next to Viktor, “You can talk to him here”.

Viktor stares at the chair that is now next to him. It is plastic. Kind of gray. His dad would probably hate this chair. He squints his eyes at it as he tries to picture his dad sitting there, but it seems to remain empty. It hurts Viktor to admit this, but without looking at a picture, Viktor cannot immediately recall exactly what his dad looked like. He knows he himself looks similar to his dad, granted with a few distinct differences. Weirdly enough, those are the aspects that Viktor remembers the best. The scar on his eyebrow, his crooked nose, his soft freckles, everything that Viktor wished he shared with his dad when he was a kid. Ironically, all the physical traits he actually did share were the ones that he was the most uncomfortable with. What that says about Viktor is probably something a good therapist would be able to pick apart. He stares at the chair harder, but now all he can see is a floating scar, a bobbing nose, and some rogue freckles. Viktor sighs, he can’t wait to start until he sees his dad, it’s never going to happen. He just has to start.

“Hey dad”, Viktor finally begins, perhaps a little too light-heartedly, “how are you doing up there? Good, I hope. Breaking hearts probably! I’m doing pretty well too. I’m a big movie star now…” Viktor pauses as he notices that Yuuri is frowning at him, “... or whatever” he backtracks.

It seems as if Yuuri definitely does not want this floofy stuff that Viktor is so good at giving, so much to his dismay, he will probably have to do what he has never really enjoyed. Be emotionally honest with not just himself, but with the people around him. It makes Viktor feel a little sick. He closes his eyes and tries to ignore his building nausea.

But then something interesting happens.

Suddenly, he is back to when he was six years old, wrapped in a blanket the color of melted butter, and with his dad sitting right next to him.

Viktor remembers this.

It was when he got that flu that had been going through all the neighborhood kids. He was so sick with it that he couldn’t even leave his bed. And despite his dad being their family’s sole income provider, despite his wages being shockingly low in the first place, Viktor’s dad stayed home with him. In fact, he stayed home with Viktor the entire week he was sick. His dad was never a man of many words, but this action implemented in little Viktor’s brain not only how much he loved his dad, but how much his dad loved him. He doesn’t remember anything else from this week besides that butter colored blanket, his dad’s strong presence, and the memory that his actual sickness only lasted for three days while he simply pretended for the other two, just so he could selfishly get more time with him.

This is the type of memory that reminds Viktor what hurt really means.

How pain is the most poignant when it comes in the shape of everything that he has lost. The reminder that everyday feels like nothing but buttery blankets and forgotten shadows and regret.

Viktor opens his eyes. “It’s, uh, It’s been a while. A really, really long while. Sometimes it kind of feels like there was never a time where I knew you at all. Like I made it all up or something. Mom would probably kill me if she heard me say that. In fact, she probably would kill me if it meant she could have you back”.

Viktor pauses, slightly shocked that those words actually just left his mouth. It is something he has thought about in passing many times since his dad died, but he has never verbalized it, or even fully admitted it to himself. Viktor knows his mom loves him, he knows it, but sometimes he can’t help but wonder how conditional that love may be. Especially when he is now all she has. And so in a way, he becomes the embodiment of all that she has lost.

Yuuri and Phichit watch him intensely, showing a surprising lack of emotion to what Viktor is saying. It somehow make Viktor feel less uncomfortable, which right now, is a very good thing.

He continues, getting more and more lost within his words, “Or, I don’t know, maybe I’m just being dramatic. I’m really good at that in case you don’t remember. All I know is that I don’t think she could ever love anything as much as she loved you. Which kind of makes me mad sometimes because logically, I am a part of you. Or at least an extension of you. So you would think that I would be enough on my own. But I guess I know that’s not how loss works. Anyway, she talks to you everyday. She always hated that I never even tried. But why would I want to talk to you like this?” Viktor’s voice starts getting faster, louder, “When you’re not really here. When I can’t see the scar on your eyebrow jump every time I did something that annoyed you, or when I have already forgotten where the rip on the jacket you wore everyday was. Maybe it’s unfair of me to only chalk you up to what I could physically see, but I was a kid, what else could you be made of for me? I never got to learn the color of your soul. All I know is that you’re my dad. And I hate you for leaving. And I love you. And I miss you. And if I keep talking to you I might start crying, which I really don’t want to do right now, so hopefully the kind men sitting at the table over there will be okay with just this” he finishes slightly out of breath. Viktor is not lying, he really will start crying if he keeps going, which is somewhat of a terrifying prospect for him.

Yuuri nods at Viktor, and although his face is still somewhat stoic, Viktor can see his eyes shining in a way they weren’t before, “Yeah, yeah we are. Thank you” Yuuri says, before softly adding, “And just so you know, no-one would have looked down on you if you did cry”.

Viktor stares back at Yuuri in disbelief.

He does not think that anyone has ever looked through him this deeply before. He feels like he could drown in it. The feeling of being seen. It is something that has yet to happen despite the millions of people literally paying to see him. But they never do. They just look at him. Always just look.

Before Viktor can think of a proper response, Yuuri continues again, “Well, that’s all we have for the audition. Thank you so much for coming in, Viktor,” Viktor tries not to shiver at the sound of Yuuri holding his name in his mouth, “and thank you for being so patient and accommodating for my weird process. I just want to guarantee that I see many potential sides of the people I am auditioning” Yuuri finishes apologetically.

Viktor nods his head sharply and quickly, all illusions of charm and collected-ness shattered within minutes of starting this audition, “Of course, I understand” he says.

Looking down at his papers, Yuuri jots something down as he says “I’m glad, we’ll be in touch”.

Viktor stares at him, a little confused by how aloof Yuuri seems to become within seconds of being so not that. He steps back and looks back and forth between the two men, “Uh, thank you, have a nice day” he mumbles out.

Phichit smiles at him and responds, “You too”, as Yuuri keeps his head down.

Viktor gives a tight-lipped smile, completely unsure of how to feel about anything right now. As he turns to leave, the sight of the chair catches his eyes again.

But this time something is different.

Viktor can see him. He can see his dad sitting there and looking softly.

And in this moment, Viktor wonders how there was ever a time where he could have forgotten this man's face, because suddenly it is so clear, so reachable. Viktor fights the urge to collapse down and weep. He fights the urge to apologize for everything he did and did not do, and instead takes a moment just to look. Because this probably really will be the last. It doesn’t take long, however, for him to notice that his dad’s eyes are not looking at him, they are looking at Yuuri. Viktor follows his dad’s line of sight to look at Yuuri as well, head still buried in his paper. Viktor can't help but to exhale in amusement at this before turning back to his dad.

But he is not there anymore.

So Viktor leaves, and all the while he thinks about his dad, and how nice Yuuri would look wearing the color of melted butter.

Chapter Text

Yuuri’s mind is reeling - absolutely spinning out of control. Never in a million years, in a million universes and lifetimes and galaxies would he have predicted Viktor being like this. He ran over his expectations a thousand times trying to prepare and plan for every version of Viktor, but this version was never one of them.

How can someone, who in interviews and films seems so emotionally vacant and unbelievably cocky, be so awkward, kind, and thoughtful? The only thing Yuuri actually guessed correctly was that he would be incredibly charming, and despite the awkwardness, he somehow still was.

Thinking about even just their handshake makes Yuuri’s face flush red - which honestly makes him feel a little bit pathetic, especially because he is supposed to be a professional and a potential employer.

But even putting that aside, Yuuri can’t help but be incredibly invested in what he just witnessed. Viktor opened up in a way that could mean amazing things for Yuuri’s film. And that makes him unbelievably excited.

Although if he ignores that stupid, persistant hopeful feeling, the harsh reality is that the audition was a bit of a trainwreck. Viktor’s acting was just as cheap as it was in all those big, schlocky movies, and he did not grasp the character whatsoever. Yuuri knows that. He recognizes that his standards are so much higher than the performance that Viktor gave.

But there goes that stupid feeling again, because the speech Viktor gave to his dad was nothing short of breathtaking. And honest. And emotional. And everything that Viktor seemed to have lost in his heart since the very first movie he was in. And to put it simply, learning this side of Viktor, learning what happened to him and his family makes it all make so much more sense. Yuuri would be willing to bet money that his dad passing away was in between his first and second movie, and that it changed everything for Viktor.

It makes Yuuri sad. It makes him want to help him, want to give him the opportunity, the platform to not only feel all those emotions, but actually express them. To build a community and a safe haven for all of those who are hurting. Everything Yuuri tries to do with his movies, he wants Viktor to do the same, to feel the sense of freedom and clarity that he feels with every single release, because he knows that he is in control, and that after so many years of being afraid, that fear is something that doesn’t have a taste anymore. At least not in those moments.

Maybe it's not the most solid or realistic desire to build a movie off of, but Yuuri now knows that Viktor has it in him, he just saw it, even if it was a roundabout way.

Phichit lightly clears his throat and looks at Yuuri with a small glint of guilt coloring his eyes. Yuuri furrows his eyebrows in confusion, partly because he is not sure why Phichit might be feeling upset, partly because he forgot that Phichit was even sitting next to him in the first place.

“Well…” Phichit starts as he draws small circles on the table with his finger, “Viktor was the last one… so, what are you thinking?” Yuuri opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, Phichit quickly cuts him off with a rushing voice, “Okay, I really hate to say this, especially because I was the one who pushed so hard in the first place, but there’s no way we can hire Viktor”.

Yuuri leans back in surprise, not expecting this from Phichit.

“I mean don’t get me wrong, he seems like a really great guy, but I guess you were right, he just might not have it anymore,” he sighs heavily, “I don’t usually say this, but I probably should have listened to you.” He stares solemnly into Yuuri’s eyes.

Yuuri just looks back, completely confused.

Sometimes he really does not understand other people, even the ones who he has been friends with for years.

Yuuri shakes his head. It doesn’t matter what Phichit thinks, this is his movie, and he knows what he wants. He can’t humor his friend and his flip-flopping desires any longer. “I think I’m gonna hire him” Yuuri responds as he starts piling his papers into his slightly ripped tote bag.

Before he can finish, Phichit slams his hands down on the papers Yuuri is trying to collect, forcing Yuuri to actively engage with him. “What!” Phichit exclaims, Why?” His voice drips with questioning.

Yuuri whips his head up from his now captive papers to stare at him in annoyance.

Why does Yuuri always have to explain himself?

And why does Phichit always have to be so pushy?

Yuuri is tired of trying to make other people understand what is going on in his head. They don’t and they won’t. At least not until the end of his process. And even then who knows? Yuuri cannot help but to let a small glare slip out as he responds, “I don’t know. I just…”

Phichit cuts him off, “Yuuri, you would be making a huge mistake if you hire him. It’s as simple as that”.

Yuuri tries to bite back the frustration that is starting to build in his chest. Sometimes he feels like if he lets his anger sit for too long, it is all he is able to feel, and that is an event that all too often takes place. Especially because confrontation is not his strong suit, so all his anger is allowed to do is sit and rot and make him uglier and uglier.

And so he tries to keep his voice even, he tries not to let that burning feeling in his chest take control as he attempts to rationally explain himself, “But what if it’s not as simple as that?” Yuuri looks down as he remembers what he just watched, “Phichit, I… I felt something”.

All Phichit does is roll his eyes, “Yeah, he’s super hot,” he responds, “I’m sure we all felt a little something, but that doesn’t mean you need to hire him”.

There's that anger again.

Yuuri takes a deep breath and tries to shake it off, “No,” he responds, “I felt something when he was speaking at the end. I felt what I felt when I first watched him in his debut. Like…” Yuuri fumbles for his words before finding them, “like I was watching someone try to grab a hold of the universe itself and make it all actually mean something.”

Phichit watches him with pity for a reason that Yuuri cannot wrap his head around, “Okay, that’s all fine and good, but he wasn’t acting there, Yuuri. He was just talking” he says, like Yuuri is the biggest idiot in the world.

This doesn’t sit well with him, so he forces himself to meet Phichit’s gaze as his resolution start to grow, “Maybe, but I feel like it’s more than that. You know I have no reason to cut him any slack, I never have before, so why would I now? And that’s why I really mean it when I say that it’s not so simple. Viktor is not how I thought he would be. At all. He seems just as disappointed in himself, or his acting at least, as I had been” Yuuri looks down as he thinks back to their interactions, “He’s not just some oblivious, pompous jerk that I assumed he would be. He is so much more than that, I can see it now, and I need to explore it. And I know myself, I know that I will always be left wondering if I don’t”.

Yuuri is left slightly breathless after this little monologue, but he is hoping it is enough for Phichit to not only understand, but to completely drop it.

“Yuuri” he states plainly, clearly about to show that he will not in fact drop it, “He will ruin your movie if you hire him. You will ruin the reputation of a true auteur that you are starting to build. Your fans will think that you’re selling out, and his fans will just be confused. Especially if he doesn’t deliver!”

“Then he has to deliver” Yuuri states just as plainly.

“Well he won’t”.

The burning in his chest gets hotter, and he can’t help but yell, “You don’t know that!”

“Yes I do!” Phichit yells back, “As much as it sucks to admit, humans aren’t that complicated. And as much as you would like to believe that there is some great, bursting potential in certain people, that only YOU can extract, as much as you would like to right some great wrong that you think has happened to Viktor, you won’t!” Yuuri stares at him as hurt starts to mix in with his anger, but Phichit makes it clear that he is not done yet, “He’s just a person, he’s not some idea for you to twist and turn in your head until you like it. Maybe his acting isn’t that good right now, simply because he is just not that good! Maybe his first movie was just a childhood fluke, and not the performance of the century that you for some reason believe it was”.

Yuuri is genuinely blown away. He has never seen Phichit act like this before. Ever. And he doesn’t understand what the hell is happening.

Does he really think so lowly of Yuuri that he actually believes that he just likes to take advantage of people? When has that ever happened? Why does everyone find it to be such a problem that Yuuri expects things from people? Everybody expects things, yet it’s only an issue when Yuuri is the one who does. He only ever gets mistreated anyway, so if anyone has learned NOT to expect things from other people, it would be him.

He has never once thought about Viktor as an “idea”, in fact, he is probably the only one who hasn’t. Everyone who fawns over him, everyone who treats him like a god and ignores what he actually seems to be feeling, everyone who looks at him just as some hot guy are the ones who couldn’t care less about who Viktor really is. All Yuuri has done is wonder why he stopped being himself in the first place. He isn’t holding on to anything. If Viktor came to this audition and made it clear that he didn’t care, Yuuri would have let him go no problem, but that’s not what happened. And he expected Phichit of all people to be the one who understands, especially because he was the one who wanted this more than Yuuri himself did.

He narrows his eyes at Phichit, giving up the idea of trying not to be angry, it’s far too late for that now. Phichit made it personal for no reason. “Why are you being so mean?” Yuuri asks with a biting voice, “This was your idea in the first place!”

Phichit throws his hands up in the air, his frustration clearly building as well, “Because I’m not gonna let you throw your career away over some stupid thing that I forced you to do in the first place!”

And now Yuuri is really mad. He cannot stand when people treat him like he is stupid. Just because he is timid doesn’t mean that he is some loser who does whatever people say. It doesn’t mean that he doesn’t have big thoughts and feelings and opinions. People like Phichit think that just because they are outgoing, that they somehow have it all figured out. And it makes Yuuri crazy. He is so tired of people underestimating him and belittling him. What it is about him that makes literally every person in his life want to shit all over him, he will never understand.

“Okay Phichit,” Yuuri starts through gritted teeth, tired of always holding back, “let me make something perfectly clear, I know that it may seem like I’m some big, dumb pushover, but I’m not, and I’m not an idiot either. I’m not going to do anything that I don’t, in some capacity, want to do, especially not with my career”. As Yuuri keeps talking, his anger grows. A small, nasty part of him wants to hurt Phichits feelings, just as he did to him, “So don’t give yourself so much credit. And also, respectfully, butt out. There’s a reason why I’ve won at Sundance and you haven’t, why my career is actually starting and yours hasn’t moved! You are the last person I need telling me what to do.”

The words hang there as Yuuri finishes.

In any other situation, he would know that he went too far, but here, he can’t help but to find it justified. Because really, who is Phichit to try and control his career? How on earth does he think he knows more than Yuuri on this topic. Honestly, he feels like he’s been jerked around by Phichit and his constant pushing for these past few weeks, and he is officially over it.

Even the hurt look on Phichit’s face doesn’t do much to quell Yuuri’s anger, in fact, it only makes him more agitated because now he’s the bad guy. All he wants to do is cast the movie that HE wrote, that HE will direct, and that HE created. How is it that he isn’t even allowed to make a simple casting decision for his own goddamn movie without being seen as an asshole? Yuuri is sick of always being the one to compromise and apologize even when he isn’t doing anything wrong.

“I’m just trying to help” Phichit mumbles as his mouth stays set in a deep frown.

“Stop helping then!” Yuuri yells, feeling every little bit of venom in the words as they come out. But sometimes it just feels so good to yell. Like he is taking back the control that people always try to assert over him. He keeps yelling, “And stop telling me what to do!”

Phichit sits back in the chair with a blank, shocked look on his face. He probably didn’t expect him to actually defend himself, Yuuri thinks to himself. Good. That will teach him to stop trying to mess with things he has nothing to do with.

Maybe expecting Yuuri to backtrack or apologize, Phichit continues to stare at him in heavy silence, and when Yuuri doesn’t, he laughs bitterly and starts to gather up his stuff, “Okay cool, I’m leaving then”. Once everything of his is collected, he stands up from the table and smiles bitterly at Yuuri as he jingles the keys to their car, “I’m sure you can find another way home, I won’t tell you how to do it, don’t worry”. With that, he turns on his heel and storms out of the room.

Yuuri sits, glued to his spot, as he watches Phichit leave. He honestly feels more guilty about the fact that he doesn't feel that guilty than from the actual altercation itself.

But for the life of him, he cannot figure out what Phichit was trying to achieve. Did Yuuri give him too much inclusion in the process that he thought they were co-directors or something? He doesn’t want to sound like an asshole, but Yuuri cares too much about his work and the authenticity of it coming directly from him to let someone piggyback off of it. There is a reason he gave up in Hollywood and went independent in the first place.

And sure he feels bad that Phichits career has been so stagnant, and maybe that’s why he was trying to make him feel so involved in this process in the first place, but the lines still need to be drawn. This is important to Yuuri, and it is important that it comes from Yuuri, completely.

And what Yuuri wants is Viktor. All of this feels like some self fulfilling prophecy of sorts. Like some cosmic force told him to watch his incredible first movie after seeing the awful ‘Mr. Morrow’.

He is not much of one to believe in a higher power, but it really does feel like fate. Like Yuuri watched that movie because they were destined to work together and create a magnificent, boundary-breaking film together. And he can’t let Phichit get in the way of fate.

He just can’t.

Yuuri looks around the empty room and sighs.

He will have to leave soon.

He can’t help but notice that a lot of his life has consisted of him needing to leave.

Being alone is something that he has grown incredibly used to throughout his life, and at some point, he’s not exactly sure when, he realized that he had begun to carry that loneliness with no complaints.

It makes him kind of sad. Because he is still a human being, and he can still feel that ache for community, yet he also has this nagging feeling that no person can ever be enough. Or like his brain is wired too differently to ever truly feel like he belongs anywhere or to anyone. His whole life has been nothing but everyone he loves showing him that they will never love him as he does, that they don’t even care enough to try.

And so Yuuri genuinely has learned to enjoy being alone, even without his circumstances he would probably always thrive in the quiet hours of dark when he is a solitary figure in his room. But at the same time it’s terrifying when certain situations force him to confront that being alone is more than just enjoying time by himself, it’s also having no one in his corner, no one when all he needs is someone. And then the cycle repeats. And repeats and repeats and repeats. And instead of growing numb to it, it just hurts more and more each time. It’s as if the universe is screaming into Yuri’s face, NO ONE WILL EVER LOVE YOU! NO ONE WILL EVER UNDERSTAND YOU!

Yuuri takes a deep breath to try and ground himself. He doesn’t want to spiral right now. Although he honestly probably doesn’t even have it in him to spiral at all. All he is able to feel is completely drained, both physically and emotionally.

But he wants all of this to be done with, he wants to be excited and passionate about his movie again. And most of all, he wants to not think about stupid Phichit right now.

He pulls out his phone, goes to Viktor’s number, and before he can think twice about it, types out a quick message and hits send.

As he reads the message back to himself, he can’t help but feel the satisfaction from his decision as the feeling of excitement begins to bloom once again in his chest.

‘Hi, Viktor. Congratulations, you got the part.’

Chapter Text

The world must have cracked open, and Viktor must have fallen through. That is the only explanation as to why the genius that is Yuuri actually wanted to hire him despite his obvious mediocrity.

Part of Viktor wants to dance and sing and scream praise to the high heavens, but a bigger part wants to shake Yuuri and tell him that he made a huge mistake.

Yes, he wants this opportunity more than anything, but Viktor’s not entirely oblivious, contrary to what many might think, and he knows that as is - he is not good enough for the film. And he can’t help but to feel a little guilty when he thinks of all the actually talented people who probably auditioned for this role. It makes Viktor worry that maybe he was once again hired only for his name and nothing else. But if he really thinks about it, Yuuri seems like the last person who would care about something like that. And so he tries to dispel that particular thought from his head.

Yet even with that one gone, it still leaves the thousands of other thoughts swimming around his brain with the name ‘Yuuri’ printed on them.

No matter how hard he thinks, Viktor can’t remember anyone that has ever made him act like such an absolute fool; yet within minutes of meeting Yuuri, Viktor put his foot in his mouth so many times that he might as well have called it dinner.

It makes him a little embarrassed, but at the same time, a little exhilarated. He didn’t know he could still feel this. The butterflies, the clammy hands, the desire to know more and see more and feel more.

Is this what people call a crush?

Could twenty-seven year old human beings even get crushes? Viktor isn’t quite sure, but he doesn’t know what else to call this feeling, because since meeting Yuuri, he has not been able to get him out of his head. It’s like the memory of the darkness of his hair, the lilt of his voice, and the curve of his hand have come to take a permanent vacation beneath Viktor’s eyelids. No matter where he looks, it’s all he can see. It’s all he wants to see.

But just as the world has always had a funny way of denying Viktor the people he cares about, he has long since been hit with the realization that there is no way anything can happen between them. At least not for a while. A long, long while. Movies take forever to make and Yuuri is definitely someone who values his job and reputation too much to put it all on the line for some silly relationship.

And even in this scenario Viktor is getting ahead of himself, because why would someone like Yuuri like him back in the first place? Not only that, but Viktor has no idea if he is even single at all. And he is still not sure if that Phichit guy was only just a friend. There are too many unknowns to even entertain the possibility of their relationship ever growing past employee/employer and, if Viktor is lucky, good friend.

He knows this. But he doesn’t want to.

A soft sigh falls from Viktor as he turns to lay on his back. His alarm rang thirty minutes ago, but he doesn’t want to get up. It’s not like he even has anything that seems that important to do today, just a meeting with his manager, maybe lunch with his mom. But knowing his life, it can never just be a meeting and lunch. Especially because he is planning to break the news to them today that he is going to be working on Yuuri’s movie.

Viktor reaches a lazy hand to his hair and starts to half-heartedly twist the silver strands between his fingers as the image of what their reactions will be starts to play in his mind. His mom will probably frown. Frown because this movie isn’t going to make them any money. Frown because “I didn’t move to America, away from all the people I love for you to waste your time like this”. Frown because she can’t seem to see her as a son anymore and instead only a piggy bank. She is always frowning though. It used to make Viktor upset, he used to try to make her smile or laugh. But she never does, so now all he does is frown back.

Besides, Viktor himself is still too scared about what this movie will mean for him and his career to even pretend to smile back.

His fear seems to come by so much easier than happiness these days. And Viktor’s fears about his acting and his reputation have still not gone away. Which is why the meeting with his manager might be a bit more complicated; if there is anyone who will be able to talk him out of this, it is going to be him.

Before he can overthink the coming meetings too much though, a text alert rings from Viktor’s phone. Viktor inwardly groans to himself as he imagines all the annoying things the text might hold. Perhaps a reminder from his mother to not wear that “tacky orange top” because it’s “not his color”. Which, true, it isn’t, but if Viktor wants to wear a shirt that is not his color, that is his god given right as an adult man who pays his own bills. Or maybe it is a text from Brad about another party he doesn’t want to go to. Or worst case scenario it is an offer from his manager for another movie deal. Though thinking about how that is a worst case scenario for him makes Viktor feel somewhat guilty. There are so many actors who would kill to be in his place, yet here he is, being ungrateful. Like always.

His phone buzzes again reminding him that he has yet to actually read the text, and imagining all the things it might be is doing nothing but wasting even more time.

He tentatively reaches his hand to the sleek silver nightstand that rests beside his bed. As he is still laying down and hasn't moved in any other way, it takes a few seconds of erratically patting the surface before his fingers close around the phone. He pulls it off of the charger and holds it up in front of his sleep stained eyes, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he won't even be able to read what it says.

Unfortunately for him, his eyes do start to adjust to the screen - and the first thing that Viktor fully processes is that the text was not from his mom, or his manager, or even Brad Pitt, but from Yuuri Katsuki himself.

An almost painful jolt runs through his body and finds a lovely resting place in his heart as he opens the text in excitement. Somehow the possibility of Yuuri being the one to text him did not even cross his mind, and now he realizes that this is actually a thing. That Yuuri has his number, and knows that he exists, and can actually text him, it is almost too much for Viktor’s poor brain to handle. He didn’t know that he could feel excitement and nervousness and passion quite like this, and all at the same time at that. So with only slightly trembling fingers, Viktor reads the message that rests in his hand.

‘Hello Viktor, it’s Yuuri again.

I am happy you decided to accept the film offer. I know you are in L.A. and I am in Portland, but I wanted to know if you had any time in the coming days to meet up and discuss contracts and plans for moving forward. Please let me know.’

Viktor can’t help but chuckle at the stiffness of Yuuri’s words. Despite such a warm and soft appearance, his demeanor has proven to be quite spiky and awkward so far. And once again, it does nothing but intrigue Viktor further. And he would be lying if he said it wouldn’t also be satisfying to be able to break through that tough exterior and see what’s underneath. Because judging from the depth and fullness of Yuuri’s movies, Viktor can be sure there is quite a lot.

He wastes no time in answering, and doesn’t even feel stupid about it. Playing weird mind games is the last thing Viktor wants to do in this situation. He doesn’t even feel stupid about the eagerness of his response either, no matter how pathetic it may read.

‘Good morning Yuuri!

It is an absolute pleasure hearing from you again, and I know it will be an absolute pleasure to work with you. I am in fact in L.A., but that is no problem, I can hop on a plane and be there in about three hours if you would have time to meet up today! I am officially at your service :)’

Viktor hits send and only worries for a few seconds that the last line might be a bit too flirty, because if Viktor is being honest, that was kind of his goal.

His phone dings again signifying a response.

‘Okay. I will meet you 1 so you can take your time. We will meet at Good Coffee, the address is 4747 SE Division St.”

Viktor feels himself blush a little bit even though there was absolutely nothing in that message to blush at. Maybe he is losing his mind even more than he previously thought. But his slipping sanity is honestly the least of his worries right now as he now has about five hours to get from Los Angeles to Portland. He sends a quick confirmation to Yuuri letting him know that he will be there and that he can’t wait, once again feeling no shame at how thick he is laying it on.

Now that he is in a hurry, he hops out of bed and lands gracefully on his feet, doing a little spin along the way just for a little extra flair. He quickly dials his assistant as he rushes to the bathroom to shower. She picks up on the first ring.

“Hi Mr. Nikiforov”.

“Hello Nancy, how are you doing on this fine morning?” he responds in a sing-song voice.

“I’m wonderful, how are you?”

Viktor puts the phone on speaker and places it on the bathroom counter as he starts yanking his clothes off. “Fantastic! Listen, would you be able to get me a plane ticket to Portland that will have me landing at at least twelve o'clock?”

“Of course Mr. Nikiforov . . . didn’t you already have two meetings scheduled today though?”

Viktor pauses with his shirt half-way off his head. He somehow completely forgot about all of that within moments of texting with Yuuri.

“Mr. Nikiforov?”

Viktor shakes his head and pulls his shirt the rest of the way off. “Yes, yes,” he responds, “I’m here”. He sighs and turns around as he thinks. The view of his face in the mirror catches him by surprise. It looks different somehow. Lighter. Softer. Happier almost. And it feels good. It feels good to see himself and actually know that he isn’t just schlepping about the day in pursuit of everybody else’s needs but his own. It makes Viktor want to keep honoring his own desires. It’s addictive, and now that he has started he doesn’t think he wants to stop. He picks up the phone from the counter and holds it up to his mouth. “Cancel them,” he says cooly, “Cancel both of them, give whatever reason you have to, I don’t care what. And forward me those plane tickets whenever you get them. Thanks Nancy”. He hangs up before even giving her a chance to try to talk him out of it. Viktor hurries and gets in the shower as he doesn’t know how soon the plane tickets will be making him leave.

Once finished he goes to his room to try and find the perfect outfit. He needs something that sends the right message. Something that says ‘Hey, I’m just a cool, casual, sexy actor with a heart of gold, and also I am not weird. I promise I am not weird. I am so sorry the first time we met was so awkward because of me, but I am not actually that awkward. You and your pretty face and nice voice and small hands and also the fact that I may or may not have walked in on you kissing someone, and also that I wasn’t prepared enough caught me really off guard, but I promise I’m cool and casual and sexy’.

But y’know, in not so many words.

He finally settles on a pair of silver dress pants with a white button down shirt, leaving a good amount of the top buttons unbuttoned to give it a little bit of edge, and then goes back to the bathroom to style his hair.

While in the bathroom he checks his phone to see if the plane tickets have been sent. Luckily they have, and a ticket with a relatively soon departure time has been added to his Apple wallet. Coupled with the tickets are five missed calls from his manager. Usually this would be enough to leave Viktor in a bit of a tizzy, but he just can't be bothered enough to care right now. He is too excited, and so all of this is nothing but a problem for future Viktor to deal with.

Yet he also can’t help but notice there are no missed calls from his mom. And although it really shouldn’t hurt his feelings, especially because he was the one who canceled - through his assistant nonetheless, it kind of does.

But Viktor doesn’t get to have his feelings hurt right now, especially with how selfish he is being. And although he isn’t even close to regretting it at this moment, he is still a person and he still feels a little bit guilty.

But once again, that needs to be a problem for future Viktor, because present Viktor has a plane to catch.

Chapter Text

Yuuri has never drank so much coffee in his life. And honestly, looking back, his decision to show up to the coffee shop an hour and a half before Viktor is supposed to arrive to “pre-game” might not have been the smartest choice he has ever made. Who even pre-games coffee in the first place? That’s a terrible decision. And if things weren’t still so awkward and stiff between him and Phichit, he would have been the one to tell Yuuri as such. But things still are decidedly - awkward and stiff - so Yuuri is stuck with having to bear the weight of his terrible decision making all on his own.

And now here he is, five minutes before Viktor is supposed to arrive, twitching like he’s never twitched before and trying to remember how to shake somebody's hand in a non-terrifying way. Unfortunately, before he can properly discern whether or not digging his nails into someone's hand is part of a normal handshake or just the one Mari always did to him when they were kids, the door to the cafe jingles and creaks open.

Yuuri's eyes widen to an uncomfortable extent and he whips his head to the source of the sound. He could swear that the “Jaws” theme song just started playing out of the shop's speakers.

A blur of silver comes through the door matched with a pair of wide smiling teeth. Yuuri gulps loudly as his brain starts to buzz. It seems like a shark really is coming towards him. Or at least something scary. In a panic, he starts to scooch himself rearwards until he is pressed clean against the back of his chair.

The shark stops smiling and pauses.

‘Oh no,’ Yuuri thinks to himself, ‘He is really angry now. He will eat me!’

“Yuuri?” the sharks say in a weirdly kind and misleadingly concerned way for an apex predator. “Are you okay?”

Yuuri blinks his eyes a few times and the image of a shark melts into something even more terrifying - Viktor.

“Viktor!” Yuuri gasps, his face absolutely exploding with red - his embarrassment hot, heavy, and immediately humbling. Like Yuuri even needs to be humbled more than he already has. He is pretty sure he has had enough humbling to last not just this lifetime, but thousands of them.

He shoots up out of his chair as if momentarily possessed by a little jack-in-the-box and extends his hand for a handshake. Yuuri, unblinking, watches Viktor as he waits for the handshake to be returned.

Viktor stares back at him, his light eyebrows drawn up in a way that makes his worry very clear, and despite the insane way Yuuri is probably acting, the silver eyes that watch him remain surprisingly soft. He starts walking again to meet Yuuri where he is, the previous smile not quite making its way back to his face. Viktor finally reaches him and reaches a tentative hand out to return the handshake.

Yuuri snaps his head down to watch as Viktor's hand draws increasingly closer to his own. Yet right before they meet, he can’t help but to pull his hand away from Viktor in fear that he will later learn that clawing is not in fact how you shake somebody's hand.

Viktor’s rejected hand hangs in the air as Yuuri drops back down to his seat. In a fumbled attempt to smooth over the awkwardness, Yuuri points at the seat opposite of him and loudly declares, “Sit!” He then clasps his mouth shut in fear of what else he might say or how he might say it.

Yuuri watches as Viktor looks back and forth between his lonely looking hand and Yuuri himself like a lost little puppy, and he can’t help but feel like he has not hit a single social cue correctly since the moment, well, since the moment he was born, but especially not since Viktor walked into the coffee shop. Viktor finally lets his hand fall and he slowly sits in the chair across from him, all while eyeing Yuuri with a deep confusion. The eye contact is a little too intense for his frazzled state so he looks off to the side, the counter of the coffee shop coming into view.

The counter! Yuuri groans as he realizes yet another interaction he fumbled and he pops back up from the table. Viktors head follows Yuuri’s movements, hurt now extremely evident in his eyes. “Do I smell or something?” Viktor asks solemnly before stealing a quick sniff of his own armpits.

Yuuri stops dead in his tracks and is unable to stop his mouth from dropping. “NO!” he shouts a bit too passionately. A few of the other coffee shop patrons turn in their seats to throw him dirty looks. Yuuri blushes at this and drops his voice a bit lower while shaking his hands back and forth for extra emphasis, “No!”

The patrons that were watching them purse their lips in annoyance before slowly turning back in their seats to go back to minding their own business; but the red in Yuuri’s face remains. Yuuri has frequently been called pathetic in his life, and this is one of the many times in which it feels incredibly fitting.

The light arch of Viktors eyebrows knot up and he extends a pale hand across the table as he leans in, “Then what's wrong? Did I do something to offend you?”

Yuuri can’t seem to find his voice, an increasingly frequent occurrence, and he also can’t seem to figure out how once again an interaction between the two of them went so, so wrong. The lack of response seems to be enough of an answer for Viktor and he pulls his hand back in and sinks into his chair. He stares at Yuuri with those big seafoam eyes of his, eyes that now seem more watery than the ocean itself. Viktor mumbles out in a clearly defeated state, “If I did, I'm really sorry”.

Yuuri’s heart stops dead in his chest and finally some of his wits seem to return to him. As normally as he can muster in his caffeine induced haze, he manages to say “I just… I thought you might want some coffee”.

Yes, pathetic is the perfect word for Yuuri. And right now he feels nothing else but downright pathetic. Pathetic for being so immediately inappropriate during a very important business meeting. Pathetic for being so nervous to do this without his emotional support best friend that he downed six coffees in the first place. Pathetic because he is pretty sure he is only masquerading as an adult and has no actual idea what he is doing. And more than anything he feels pathetic because Viktor is all he has been able to think about since their first meeting. Yes a lot of those thoughts are about his movie and how Viktor might be able to fit in (for better or for worse). But Yuuri would be lying if a lot of those thoughts were not also about how genuinely sweet Viktor seems and how big his hands are and how nice his voice sounds and how endearing his nose is. And so Yuuri is in fact pathetic. Because the second Viktor seemed even slightly sad, the second Yuuri realized that he was the cause for that sadness in the first place, he wanted nothing more than to make it better. To do anything Viktor would like just for him to smile again. Just for him to say his name in the sweet, caring way he did at the audition. Like it held weight in his mouth, like Yuuri already held importance in his heart.

Pathetic. Pathetic. Pathetic.

Viktor continues to watch him, his sadness seeming to morph into confusion, and then concern. Which who can blame him, Yuuri is acting like an absolute nut job. “Oh…” Viktor drawls out, his eyebrows knotting back up again. He stands up rather abruptly, “ I can get it, Yuuri, please, sit down”.

Yuuri shakes his head erratically, “No! I was the one who invited you, please, let me get it”.

Yuuri may be unintentionally rude, but he refuses to be intentionally rude. Sure if he were to think about that viewpoint too closely or for too long, he would probably find some flaws in it. But that is for a later more enlightened version of Yuuri to consider. This Yuuri is too busy trying to save his movie and his good grace with Viktor.

Viktor squints at him, but Yuuri does not budge. So instead he just sighs and runs a pale hand through his hair. Yuuri’s eyes focus on this movement, on how soft his hair looks, on how the strands now rest messily across his forehead instead of neatly by his ear. “Okay… fine,” Viktor says finally. He reaches into his pocket and pats around a few times before pulling out a sleek leather wallet, “But take my card”.

The action forces Yuuri to tear his eyes away from Viktors silver locks and instead his eyes meet the image of an equally silver card.

Yuuri frowns, he hates coming off as cheap or greedy. It is something he has worried about his whole life, being the nuisance - the leech. So the last thing he wants to do is take Viktor’s money. A tight attempt at a smile forms in Yuuri's lips, “No, that's okay. What do you want?” he asks rather harshly.

Accepting a defeat, probably partially fueled by the strangeness of Yuuri’s behavior in general, Viktor chews his lip and slowly slips his card back in his wallet. He stays standing, but no longer looks at Yuuri, instead he watches his own finger as it anxiously traces little circles onto the stained coffee table. “Uh, I’ll take whatever you’re drinking”.

The melancholy of Viktors state is becoming more and more obvious and Yuuri just wants to smash a coffee mug into his own face for repentance. But alas, witnessing that would undoubtedly scar Viktor way more - possibly even for life, so instead Yuuri just tries to change his tone into something more gentle. “Okay, which one?”

The fingertip that was previously painting circles stills, and Viktors head slowly raises in a perplexed manner, “Which one?”

Yuuri nods, “Yeah, I’ve had like six different drinks since I’ve been here, so which one?”

Viktors pink lips part and fall into a perfect circle. It figures that even his shock would somehow still look flawless.

“Six?” Viktor screeches causing the patrons to once again whip around in their seats to glare. A particularly wrinkly old man even raises a finger to shush at them. A rosy blush colors Viktors cheeks as he quickly turns toward the crowd and offers a sheepish smile and a quick apology. As Viktor comes back to face him, Yuuri can’t help but notice a few hushed whispers of people asking each other if that could possibly be the famed Viktor Nikiforov in a strange coffee shop encounter in Portland. The attention makes Yuuri feel even more embarrassed, but Viktor pays no mind to them, and instead his concerned eyes are glued solely on him. “Did they all have caffeine?” Viktor asks quickly.

Yuuri shrugs and matches Viktors slight blush with a blaring red one of his own, “I don’t know”.

A deep sigh, one marked with concern rather than annoyance, leaves Viktors body. His hand goes up to rub the back of his head and he lets his eyes fall shut, “I’m gonna take a wild guess and say they did”. Viktors hand stills from scratching the back of his head and suddenly something about Viktor seems to have transformed with that one movement. His back grows straighter, his eyes brighter, his voice more sure, “Sit down, Yuuri, let me get you some water”.

And before he can even realize what happened, Yuuri is somehow sitting in his chair with Viktors hand on his shoulder. The wiring in his brain seems to snap with the feeling of Viktors hands on him once again. Something about it seems sweet, assuring, inevitable almost. Like Viktors skin is actually made from ember and not flesh. Like the last bit of evidence from a dying fire. The way it's warm but doesn't burn, at least not enough to truly hurt - just enough to jolt you back to life. Enough to smell the smoke, to breathe in the stars, to remember that you are really here, that you exist outside of your head and that not only can you touch the world, but the world can touch you back. And so Yuuri melts into this particular world.

Viktors touch stills at the sensation of Yuuri leaning in before his grip immediately grows tighter around him than before. “Yuuri?” he whispers out.

Yuuri can’t help but notice how the Russian laced voice falters at the last syllable.

Despite the cloudiness of his head, somehow some of his senses manage to come back to him and Yuuri lifts his head to stare at Viktor. “But I need to get you your drink…” he says with a defeated frown.

Viktors eyes bore into his own with an intensity he has never seen before. At least not in any of his movies. Yet just as Yuuri could have sworn he would burn alive beneath that unyielding stare, something about it breaks. Viktors eyes soften and his lips curl, and before Yuuri could register the smile, a light chuckle spills from Viktor’s chest. It sounds like a song. Viktor’s head bows, his hair covering his eyes from sight, and he laughs for a moment more. Once his head lifts back up to meet him a shiver of happiness runs through Yuuri’s body when he sees the gleaming grin on Viktor’s face, “Yuuri, it’s fine, you’re more important.”

Yuuri’s ears burn.

The grip on his shoulder loosens and instead turns into a few hefty pats, “Also I am a little bit scared of you right now” Viktor finishes.

Yuuri’s ears burn even harder.

The hand on his shoulder is now completely gone, and Yuuri would be lying if he said he didn’t miss it, but before long Viktor returns with a large glass filled to the brim with water - no ice. He places the cup gently in front of Yuuri, “Here you go, try to drink it all”. The embarrassment of the situation comes crashing down around him at this moment, and all he can bring himself to do is nod his head and keep his gaze fixed on that glass of water.

Viktor moves silently from his side to sit back across from him. He says nothing, but Yuuri can feel his eyes fixate on him,

Still too ashamed to look up, Yuuri just grabs the glass in his shaking hand, chugs about half of it, ignores the water dripping down his chin, and sets the glass back down. “I’m sorry” he says finally.

Yuuri wishes there was a word stronger than sorry.

To his surprise though, Viktor does not seem angry. Yuuri is so used to someone being angry at him. It’s always been like that. Somehow, for some reason, in some way, Yuuri deserves anger. But so far, Yuuri has only been met with kindness, and kindness is a lot harder to learn how to respond to. And this is only proven when Viktor's sure voice breathes out the words, “It’s perfectly okay, Yuuri. Are you doing alright?”

And since Yuuri does not yet know how to respond to kindness, he just breaks.

His head drops into his hands and it all comes pouring out, “Phichit won’t talk to me, and it’s kind of my fault, but also I’m still so, so mad at him. And now it’s just been awkward and awful, and I’ve gotten so used to having him by my side that I’ve just forgotten what it’s like to be on my own. And deep down I know that he’s all I have, and so now I am just… freaking out. And I'm scared all of this is going to ruin my movie, and I can’t let that happen. Not this one. It’s too important.” Yuuri finishes slightly out of breath, head still in hands.

Yuuri senses his face flush at the realization he just dumped all of this on Viktor. Because contrary to the position they are in right now. He knows Viktor is not his friend, not even close, he is just some famous millionaire heartthrob that is probably just humoring him for a more diverse portfolio. And as nice as Viktor seems, it is probably ignorant of him to assume that he is doing anything other than trying desperately to stay professional in the face of the mess that is Yuuri Katsuki. In fact, Yuuri should probably expect to receive a letter of resignation by the end of this meeting. He finally finds the strength to lift his head and looks onto Viktor. Viktor matches his eye contact firmly, and still with no visible signs of annoyance, just worry. But Yuuri has to hold strong, “I’m sorry," Yuuri says finally, “I shouldn’t be springing all this on you, I’m being so unprofessional and I swear I’m not normally like this. I’m really, really sorry and I hope we are able to move past this going forward”.

Viktor’s eyebrows draw together and he once again reaches his hand out. Yuuri notices that is something he seems to do a lot. “Hey, hey,” Viktor says warmly, "it's okay. Don’t apologize.” Yuuri stares at him with mouth agape. Viktor just grins his heart shaped grin and continues, “Besides, the first time we met I had to pour my heart out to you, now it’s only fair that it’s your turn!”

This is definitely not the reaction Yuuri was expecting. Anything but this in fact.

Viktors smile stalls, and instead turns a bit sheepish, his hand finds its rest at the back of his head, “But, um, if you don’t mind me asking…” Viktor starts, “is Phichit your boyfriend?”

On fire. Yuuri’s face is absolutely on fire and there is no way it’s going to be put out. He slams his hands down flat on the coffee table in surprise and has to refrain himself from yelling. So instead he just loudly proclaims, “What? No! No, no, not all. He’s my best friend!” The force of his words and movements cause his glasses to slip down his nose, and he has to use a single finger to push them back up in a huff.

The action causes Viktor to chuckle, and for a brief moment Yuuri could swear Viktor’s eyes grew brighter, “Well in that case,” he says, “my advice is to just talk to him. From the few moments I’ve seen you guys together, it’s clear how much you guys mean to each other. My guess is that he is hurting just as much as you are.”

Yuuri pauses before squinting his eyes, “Really?”

Viktor nods with a grin, “Definitely”.

Talking to him. . . it seems so simple, yet it is something Yuuri had genuinely not considered. People have never been his strong suit, and he is also not the most neurotypical person in the world - so this advice was somewhat groundbreaking for him. But also with all this in mind, Yuuri can’t help but ponder why just simply talking to Viktor feels so much easier than with anyone else he has ever met. He still wouldn’t consider himself good at it, and this interaction is proof of that, yet right now, in this moment, it feels good. Simple. He is not sure why, but hopefully he can carry that over when talking to Phichit.

“Okay… Okay” Yuuri nods, “Good to know.” He lets a genuine smile fall on his face, it is a small one, but genuine nonetheless, “Thank you, now, um… let’s get back to the movie.”

Viktor chuckles, “Right, let's.”

Chapter Text

The rest of the meeting went pretty uneventfully, which honestly was a welcome turn of events for Viktor after the continuous chaos they seem to find themselves in. He would be lying however if he said he didn’t find the chaos a bit thrilling. Unfortunately for Viktor though, that thrill will have to wait for the moment as there is a movie to be made.

The two men finish up their conversation in which they ironed out the shooting schedule (which was set to begin in three months), the pre-production meetings, and the payment information. And so with all that said and done, Viktor and Yuuri were set to be on their way.

With their bags in hand and chairs pushed in, the two walk side by side out the door. Viktor tries to ignore the fact that every time their shoulders bump as they walk he has to push down a little thrill of excitement that keeps trying to make its way through his body. He glances at Yuuri, who keeps his eyes trained firmly ahead, and admires the way his dark hair falls softly around his ears.

The two stop walking - now out the door, and ready to say their goodbyes. But before Viktor can get a word out, Yuuri turns his head abruptly towards his own. The sudden and intense eye contact causes his heart to jump. Yuuri has not looked at him like this since he fell apart at the audition, since the moment Viktor realized Yuuri truly wanted to figure out who he is under all that bullshit.

The look terrifies Viktor, it terrifies him because Yuuri might just find out.

“Viktor…” Yuuri begins, his voice slow, his honeypot eyes glowing. He pauses.

The silence after Viktors name is poignant, and before he can overthink about what is going to happen for too long, Yuuri opens his mouth and lets four words slip out. Four words that render him completely defenseless. Four words that he has somehow never been asked before in his entire life. Four words that make it clear that Yuuri is going to change absolutely everything.

"Why do you act?"

***

Viktor has often wondered how it would feel if he were to fall out of the sky. He can picture the circumstance quite clearly because of how often the thought has circulated through his mind. It would probably go something like this; there he is, cruising at a peaceful altitude with all the other passengers, headphones in, maybe one of those frozen in the middle chicken bakes in hand - when all of the sudden - a drop. The plummet begins. The flip in his stomach will tell him everything he would need to know.

He can picture that drop now, he can picture everything. The cans of coke floating through the air, the smell of smoke and half finished dinner, and more than anything, he can picture the silence. The eerie, eerie silence that occurs when you know there is nothing you can do. That silence where everything comes rushing back. The name of your first grade crush, the time you lost your moms favorite necklace, the scent of the fresh baked cinnamon rolls that you are sure you finally mastered - it's all back, it's all there. But you keep plummeting and plummeting and plummeting, and suddenly the name of your crush turns into every time you let someone you loved walk out of your life while you did nothing to stop it. And the memory of the weight of your moms necklace in the palm of your hand feels like all of the people you never got to apologize to. And the smell of those fresh baked cinnamon rolls becomes everything in the world you have yet to do and to try and to become. And so what do you do? Try to make peace with God, Viktor supposes. Or even harder, try to make peace with yourself.

This is something Viktor thinks about a lot. Strangely enough, it is not a fear of Viktor's, not really. He is only afraid of dying in the way that children are afraid of their first day of school. The trepid anticipation, the summit of something new, the realization that you really are moving on - but all with the comfort that at the end of the day, you will eventually be home again. That is simply how Viktor sees it. Death is something he does not actively wish to happen, and he certainly is not hoping his plane will fall out of the sky - but if it did, Viktor thinks he would be okay. In the sense that he knows that he too would be going home.

Viktor still remembers the first time he flew in a plane. Funnily enough it was also the last time he ever stepped foot in Russia. It had been a cold morning in Saint Petersburg, which was something Viktor had grown used to. He remembered how the clouds seemed to put up their best defenses against the light that day, cloaking everything in a dull gray, perhaps making it seem like the sun never even rose at all.

Light flecks of snow teetered down from those vast gray clouds and landed softly on little Viktor's pink stained nose. The slow melt of the snow made Viktor shiver with a coldness that was only worsened by the rough blow of the morning winds. The scarf Viktor wore to try to ward off some of the chill was little help as it seemed determined to fly away with the breeze. No matter how he would wrap it or fold it, it always ended the same way - draped across the ground. It made little Viktor so angry. He couldn't understand why it wouldn't just stay with him, stay ON him. And by the tenth time that scarf wound up soaking in the snow next to his feet, he couldn't take it anymore. He snatched that old scarf up and threw it into the first trash can he saw. It wasn't until he made it inside the airport and was able to take off his hat and gloves that he started to cry.

He remembered his mothers discomfort at his tears, as if it was something that God himself had decided to burden her with. Like some sort of divine retribution. He remembered how she tried to half-heartedly assure him that flying wasn't so scary and that everything would be okay. He is alive. He is healthy. There is nothing for him to cry about.

But Viktor wasn't thinking about the plane, or his life, or his mother, in fact none of that had even crossed his mind. He was only thinking about his scarf.

Why had he thrown it away? Why didn't his mom stop him? He didn't care much for the scarf itself. It was a ratty old thing, probably given to him by his aunt or grandmother, or some other person that has long since been removed from his life. There was almost nothing redeemable about it, the color was all wrong and it never stayed wrapped. It was worthless. Yet for some reason, at that moment, Viktor had never yearned for something more.

And so before his mom could stop him, before logic or reasoning even had the chance to step in, Viktor bolted out from the airport as fast as he could. Those same gray clouds were there to greet his equally cloudy eyes, and not knowing what else to do with his body, what else to do with his mind, he began to run. He didn't care to look for cars, he didn't care to think about the slick ice holding his feet, he didn't care about any of it. His hands began to burn and swell in the bitter cold - his gloves forgotten at the airport along with his mother. His ears quickly grew numb, and if you asked him at that moment, he would have believed they had already fallen off. But before long, Viktor was greeted with the most spectacular view of his entire life, he could even swear that there was faint singing from the angels in heaven riding down on the backs of the breeze to greet this beautiful sight. Right in front of him, only about twenty feet away, sat a little metal trash can with a ratty orange scarf hanging out.

Despite the cold, despite the run, despite everything that was going on in his life, little Viktor used his last bit of energy to move even faster. But the ice under his feet was too slick and before he could stop himself, his body came crashing to the ground, his chin yielding most of the impact. Viktor could feel the blood seep from his face and plop down to the icy earth below, bright red, falling on crimson, falling on wine.

Yet the sting of the gash was deemed unimportant in this moment, and in seconds Viktor was back up and running. And within seconds the scarf was back in his hands, and within seconds Viktor finally felt at peace for the first time in God knows how long.

The rest is a bit of a blur. Not long after he found the scarf, his mother found him curled up next to the trash can holding the scarf and bleeding all over it. She was absolutely furious. Mostly because she had to go after him in the first place. But little Viktor didn’t care. He had his scarf, what else could possibly matter in that moment? And before long, Viktor was back at the airport, band-aid on his chin, scarf in hand, and boarding the plane that was to take him away from Russia forever. It was the first time Viktor began to wonder what it would feel like to fall out of the sky.

And now here he sits, back in a plane, and heading back to the state he has been forced to call home. L.A. has always been a place that has felt constrictive. Hell, even the letters themselves are caged and separated by two periods - while the land is surrounded by mountains. Viktor has often wondered why he continues to force himself to live in a place that has symbolized nothing but the stomping grounds for money, fame, and in his earlier years, sexual gratification. Yet every time he has asked himself this question, he has just as easily answered it with the fact that he is an actor. This is where actors are, this is where his work is, this is where his life is. But Viktor has never, not once, asked himself why he is an actor.

As far as he knows, he just is. He has lived the majority of his life as an actor, and as far as Viktor knows, he probably came out of the womb as an actor. How do you question something that just is?

Viktor chews on his lip in frustration as his hand leaves the plane's armrest and comes to stop on his chin. Just under his fingertips lays the soft indent of the scar that was left from his daring scarf escapade. He hasn’t thought about that specific story in years, in fact he usually forgets the scar is even there. It’s not like he is able to see it himself, and Hollywood likes to cover, fix, and edit out any little imperfection that could possibly exist.

And so when Yuuri asked him that question, ‘why do you act’, Viktor was simply unable to answer. He could not come up with anything, his mind was positively blank in a way that it had never been before. Therefore he left, he left and he got on this plane, and he started thinking about falling, and then he started thinking about why. And all that came up was the memory of this story.

Viktor grimaces as his brain begins to hurt from all this thinking. But he needs to know, he needs to for once not let a shroud of apathy control of every bit of self realization that could possibly take place.

Why does he act? Why did he go back for his scarf? Why did he audition for Yuuri’s movie? And God, what on earth does Viktor actually want from this life??

Viktor stills.

What does he want from this life?

Why can he not answer this?

Why is it so hard?

It shouldn't be this hard.

The twinkle of the L.A. lights begin to make their way to Viktor's eyes through the small plane window. And for once, Viktor lets himself look. And when he looks, he doesn’t imagine the view through the eyes of someone who is freefalling through the air, someone who is watching the colors melt into waterfalls. Instead he looks at it through the eyes of someone who is exactly where they are, maybe even right where they are supposed to be. He looks at it through the eyes of himself.

‘Why do you act?’

When Yuuri asked him that, he could not give him a good answer, instead Viktor gave him the real answer. The realest answer he could muster. The answer that Viktor had been running away from for so long.

‘I don’t know. But I’d like to find out’.

Chapter Text

Yuuri stands in the doorway of the kitchen, literally and figuratively with one foot out the door, one foot in. He is not really sure if being in the shared rooms of the house is a good idea right now with everything going on with Phichit and all. And he is also not really sure if he is ready to make up yet.

As cruel as the things Yuuri said were, they were not entirely wrong. A lot of it needed to be said. Maybe- no, definitely, said a bit nicer, but still needed nonetheless. Yuuri is tired of feeling like half a person. For once he wants to occupy his body in its entirety, occupy the whole world in his entirety. And he hasn’t been able to do that since forever, and neither has Phichit.

Yuuri taps his fingers against the doorway he hasn’t let go of since standing here. He feels listless.

He finally moves his hand away and rests his head against it instead.

What should he even say to Phichit if he sees him? What would make him understand? Yuuri never means to be cruel. He never means to be anything. And maybe that’s the problem. He makes himself so small that he becomes too much.

The sound of the front door suddenly creaks to life and Yuuri whips his head off of the doorframe in terror.

No, no, no.

He is not ready to talk to Phichit. Not yet.

Before Phichit can even walk through the front door, Yuuri turns on his heel and dashes up the stairs taking two steps at a time. He closes the bedroom door behind him and collapses against it. Once his heart rate manages to return to its proper pace, he sinks down to the ground. The door feels good against his back. So does the carpet. Sitting on the floor makes him feel like a kid again. There is something vulnerable in the act. Like he has become one with the ground and the whole world will just go on without him. It’s much easier to be vulnerable with yourself though than it is to be with others. And Yuuri isn’t ready to be like that with Phichit.

He knots and unknots his fingers in his lap, not being able to stop his mind from wandering to Viktor. It makes absolutely no logical sense that after countless years of being attached at the hip with Phichit, it still feels like he has razor blades on his tongue every time he tries to open up. Yet so far with Viktor, it feels like the words and questions just flow out of him. Or like Viktor is a well, one that Yuuri has tripped and fallen inside of.

Perhaps it’s one that’s too deep for him to ever climb his way out.

‘Why do you act?’

Yuuri blushes as he thinks about the boldness of his question. He wasn’t sure where he mustered up the courage to ask Viktor something like that, but he is glad he did.

He hadn’t meant it as a slight towards Viktor, not at all. They may not have talked much in the grand scheme of things, other than Yuuri's embarrassing ramblings about Phichit that is, but one thing is very clear - Viktor is not the cocky, talentless airhead that Yuuri expected him to be. And to be fair, Yuuri never truly thought that Viktor was completely talentless, even before getting to know him. The single breathtaking performance of Viktors first movie makes that sentiment undeniable. Which is why the question burned even deeper in Yuuri’s mind, on his tongue… it demanded to be asked. Why does Viktor act? Why did he begin in the first place? Why didn’t he stop once his dad died? Why does Viktor seem to pull himself along this path that demands so much yet so little from him all at once? And more than anything, what is the real reason Viktor is doing Yuuri’s movie?

Yuuri unclenches his fingers, not realizing the force in which he was pressing them together. Warm sweat pools in his palms and reminds him of who he is… who he is to Viktor right now. Just another guy like any other. Nothing is special about Yuuri, he knows that.

And so he knows he can’t ask Viktor all of that… instead he just went with the most pressing question. Or perhaps the most simple one. And the response was just that… simple.

Yuuri liked that. At least he thinks he did. It felt honest. It felt like Viktor at the audition room talking to the chair. And honesty is what Yuuri has always tried to center his work around. And that scares him a bit. Because what if Viktor’s truth really is just that he doesn’t know why he acts and he never will? It’s entirely possible that maybe Viktor enjoyed it and was good at it as a kid and then he just lost his passion for it plain and simple. A match that has burned out. And then he just kept doing it because he was already successful or because his mom pushed him into it, or whatever the case may be.

Yuuri slides down even more until he is laying in the fetal position across his carpet. He snakes his hand up to his bed and pulls one of his fluffy blankets over his limp figure until he is completely engulfed. He snuggles into the soft darkness and feels his muscles finally begin to relax. Maybe later when he exits this makeshift cocoon he will be a butterfly. Yuuri can only hope. He’s changed before, just like Viktor might’ve.

It happens all the time, especially to kids. When he himself was a child his mom kept trying to push him into ice skating. Every day, every weekend, every free moment of his life he was on the ice. He even got to the point where he was winning local competitions and building a bit of a reputation. But although he was good, and he enjoyed it, he knew it was not meant to be his life. At least not in this universe. Maybe there is another one where he spends his days skating away and winning medals, but in this lifetime his passion is film. It always has been, that is where his future lies. He knew that even as a kid.

And that is why Yuuri just stopped trying. He was too scared to tell his mom he wanted to quit, so instead he just skated as horribly as he possibly could until he became the laughing stock of his local competition space. At this point, his mom, who once loved bragging about Yuuri’s skating achievements, had no choice but to pull him out. Yuuri was ecstatic. That is until they got home from that meeting with his coach and she ended up destroying his DVD player and snapping some of his disks out of anger. Yuuri remembers how she looked at him after doing so. There was no warmth in her eyes. She just dropped the pieces to the floor and hissed out “what a disappointment” before walking out of his room and sliding the door shut behind her.

Yuuri shivered at the memory. He doesn’t want to think about that. He doesn’t want to think about how he wanted to disappear into the walls at that moment. To become the house itself and consume everything that remained inside until there was nothing left. So he could be empty and big and strong.

And what if that is what Viktor wanted too, and so that is what he became? Empty, and big, and strong? Never quite finding the voice to say “no”.

This is a terrifying prospect for Yuuri. Selfishly he needs there to be a passion for acting under all of that. If there isn’t one then they really are all screwed and Phichit was right all along. And Phichit can’t be right, not about this.

Although just about everything else is a big unknown, there is one thing Yuuri knows for sure. Before filming even begins, he has to find out if Viktor's passion for acting is simply buried, or fully snuffed out. Because if it is truly gone, Yuuri has a lot of cleaning up to do.

Yuuri rolls over onto his stomach, ignoring the way the carpet itches against his chin, and pulls out his phone. Face ID scans him and opens up to his Moulin Rouge screensaver. Not knowing what else to do, he navigates to Google and types into the search bar, ‘How do I help a famous actor find their passion for acting again and in turn save my movie from being a total catastrophic failure?’

He scans his eyes over the many articles and clicks on a couple. Subconsciously he whispers the words to himself as he reads. “The actor’s soul feeds on creativity, collaboration, and growth. When opportunities are hard to come by, even the most passionate of actors can feel stuck and discouraged…” Yuuri trails off.

That certainly doesn’t apply to Viktor. Most of these articles don’t apply to him. Because he has everything an actor could possibly want. But Yuuri can’t give up yet. He keeps reading.

“Finetune your craft… blah blah blah,” he mumbles, “the power of habits… no. Mindfulness… no.”

Yuuri pauses.

“Fall in love again… What was it that drew you to acting in the first place? Chances are it was all the incredibly moving performances you’d seen over the years. The first step is to fall in love with acting all over again: Go be a spectator, go watch it and love it, and fall in love with it all over again…” Yuuri finishes reading, his breath heavy in his chest.

It’s so obvious. How did he not think of this sooner? If someone were to ask him what made him fall in love with film, what made him want to direct and create and write - the answer would simply be from film itself. The only time Viktor has ever spoken with passion about movies is when he was talking about Yuuri’s movies. Yuuri blushes a bit at this thought. But regardless of the fact that they are his own, the important part is that movies do have the capacity to make Viktor's heart tremble and ache. And that is exactly what Viktor needs.

Without a moment of hesitation, Yuuri exits google and finds Viktor's contact info before calling his number. He only takes a second to register how strange it is that this is something he can do now.

Before the phone can even get through its first ring, Viktor picks up.

“Yuuri…” Viktor immediately says, his voice sounding a bit breathless and excited.

Yuuri’s face catches on fire and he rips the blanket off from over his head, all the sudden feeling a bit too contained in that cocoon of his. His mouth has slightly turned to cotton, and he isn’t sure he wants to unpack why.

Viktor, seemingly unsure of what to do with the pause on Yuuri's end, tries again, “I mean… hello?”

His Russian accent is laced with mock seriousness.

Yuuri shakes his head furiously and tries to get over this momentary spell of muteness, whatever it may be from.

“Yuuri? Are you okay?”

Oh my god he still needs to respond.

“Yes!” Yuuri finally blurts out. “Yes I am okay, sorry about that!” The urge to ramble starts to push his way out of Yuuri’s mouth and he is powerless to stop it. “I was just on the floor… Well, that's not part of the story… I was just sitting here and I thought I would call you….” His hands start gesticulating wildly. “But then you spoke first and it kinda messed up the script in my head since I was the one who called, so I was gonna try to speak first because I think that’s what you’re supposed to d-”

Yuuri stops mid sentence when he hears Viktor laughing on the other end. Full, whole body, stomach bursting laughter. He would appreciate the sound more if he was sure what the cause was. Is Viktor laughing at him? His heart stops at the thought.

Yuuri starts to sweat. He wipes the perspiration from his brow with a shaky hand.

It doesn’t sound mean though, and that would seem really out of character for Viktor. At least from what Yuuri knows of him so far. But maybe that was the point, maybe he was pretending to be nice to him this whole time, maybe all of this was actually just a prank, maybe-

“Oh Yuuri,” Viktor says fondly, effectively cutting off Yuuri’s train of thought, “You are unlike anyone I have ever met”.

Yuuri tightens his grip on the phone and he feels his hands tingle.

‘Unlike anyone I have ever met’.

Yuuri has heard that before, but usually it’s said with annoyance or with cruelty. Most often when he is being too weird, or too shy, or too unpredictable - like when he was a kid and tried to give CPR to the fish his dad caught for dinner.

But that’s not how Viktor said it. ‘You are unlike anyone I have ever met…’ Yuuri plays it again in his head. Viktor spoke the words like the meaning was something entirely different. Like Yuuri had just gathered up all the flowers and stars and sunsets in the whole world and gave them to Viktor. Like he is the light that is shining all over the earth, illuminating every moment and every place and every memory.

In this moment Yuuri would swear that maybe he is made of light, because right now, for some reason, he feels happy. So, so happy.

Finding his words through the smile growing on his face, he whispers out, “You… you like that, right?” wanting the clarification just in case.

Yuuri can almost hear Viktor grinning on the other end, “I love it. You terrify me”.

Although that last part can also be taken many ways, Yuuri decides it is a good thing. Because Viktor scares the crap out of him too, and this is the most excited he has felt in ages.

“I want to help you find it” Yuuri blurts out, becoming very familiar with the act.

He mentally pats himself on the back for finally getting the words out.

On the other end Viktor is silent for a few moments. “Find what?” he questions finally, although it sounds like he already knows what Yuuri is talking about. Maybe he just wants him to say it. Maybe this is part of the reason he is scared of him.

Yuuri takes a deep breath, “The reason why you act, I want to help you find it”.

Viktor says nothing, clearly still hoping Yuuri has more to say.

“And I know how to do it” Yuuri finishes, hoping that Viktor will give some sort of sign as to what he is thinking.

Finally, after a few more painful seconds Viktor responds. And for the first time since Yuuri has met him, he truly sounds scared.

“...How?”

The meekness of his voice takes Yuuri aback. But it also makes him want to dig further. However, he knows he needs to approach this carefully. All of this is clearly a sensitive subject for Viktor, and the last thing he wants to do is make it seem like he is belittling him. He just needs to make him understand. That's it.

Yuuri looks up at the ceiling, trying to find the perfect words, something he has never been good at, when a memory comes to him. Yuuri always goes on and on about being honest and vulnerable in his art, so maybe he should give it a try in real life this time.

And so for approximately the third time since Yuuri has met Viktor, he finds himself opening up.

“Well…” Yuuri begins, looking at the ground now instead, “when I was around ten years old there was this old theatre near my house. It was where all the local businesses were” Yuuri can’t stop the nostalgia that intertwines with his voice in each sentence. He scratches the carpet with his pinky and keeps his eyes trained on the floor, “And every Sunday they would have 500 Yen movie nights. They would play everything. Japanese classics, American classics, animation, silent films, monster movies, musicals, even a short film this guy in our town made... It was about a shell that kept getting broken. It was only three minutes long, but by the end I was in tears. The whole room was. The man's name was Yutaka. I thought he was a God after that. I even started saying his name in my prayers every night”. Yuuri blushes a deep red, “Sometimes I still do…”

Viktor remains silent on the other end, but Yuuri can somehow tell he is hanging on to every word.

“I had never felt like that before in my life” Yuuri continues, “and so I was determined to also make something that could play at one of those movie nights. I woke up at three in the morning, a couple hours before my parents would wake up… a couple hours before the whole world would wake up. I snuck into their room and took the video camera my dad kept in his closet for special occasions…” Yuuri loses his voice at the memory of taking that camera. When he checked the space left on it, he could see that nothing had ever been filmed. Nothing special about him or his life. Yuuri keeps this part to himself. He bites his lip and continues, “I took the camera with me to the beach, this quiet part near the rocks I liked because no one would ever go there. I set the camera up on the rocks and filmed myself diving into the water over and over and over again. I was trying to swim to center of the world. I thought that would probably make an interesting movie. But every time I dove, I would get washed straight back to shore. I did this for fifteen minutes straight before I just gave up…”

Yuuri stands up from the ground and begins to pace, his free hand twitching at his side.

“I didn’t know how to edit or cut film or anything like that, so I just gave it to the theatre, fifteen minutes of raw footage of me diving into the water and being pulled back to land. I titled the movie ‘For Yutaka’”.

Yuuri stops pacing and sits back down on the floor, pulling his legs into his chest. The memory is overtaking him more than he realized.

“And when it came time to show the film, the theatre was packed. All the regulars were there, plus Yutaka himself. Ahhh, I was so nervous I thought I was going to die. But before I could decide where I wanted my funeral to be, the staff announced the title of my movie and the lights dimmed” Yuuri can’t help but chuckle softly, “All fifteen minutes of me acting like a beached whale for what felt like the whole world to see. It was so painful, I was cursing every God I could think of that they let me do this, Yutaka included”.

Yuuri holds himself tighter. “And then after the longest fifteen minutes of my life, the lights came back on. I couldn’t help myself from looking around the room to see what people thought. Half of them were asleep, the other half looked like they wished they were too. But then I saw him…”

Tears well up in Yuuri’s own eyes.

“Yutaka was sitting there crying his eyes out. It looked like he was in another dimension, somewhere that I had never been. He looked so happy, the happiest I had ever seen anybody. And in that moment it felt like I understood everything. I understood why I wanted to do this, I understood what it meant to people. How it feels to speak to somebody, even if it was just one person in a room full of people. And that meant everything to me”.

Yuuri finishes the story feeling completely out of his own body. Actually, he always feels like that. For once he actually feels like he is inside his own body. Like his hands are his own and these feelings are his own. Like it really was him that threw himself into the ocean over and over and over again trying to find the center of the world. Same body, same mind, same soul. It makes Yuuri feel brave, and the fact that he has never told this story before now makes him feel even braver.

“Did he know it was you?”

Viktors voice surprises Yuuri, the eagerness in his words surprises him even more.

“What?

“Yutaka,” Viktor urges, “Did he know it was you who made him that film?”

Yuuri deflates, remembering, once again, how brave is actually the farthest thing from what he has ever been.

“No…” Yuuri answers honestly, “No I never told him. I heard he was asking around about it, but I was too scared. I guess I thought he would be disappointed. And besides, he moved away not long after that so it doesn’t matter anyway”.

Viktor sounds frustrated, “Why would he be disappointed? He wanted to know you. He was already impressed with you”.

It doesn’t matter, Yuuri wants to say. People still find a way to be disappointed. Quite easily in fact. But he doesn’t say that, because Yuuri doesn’t want to talk about this anymore.

“Like I said,” Yuuri says harshly, “It doesn’t matter. Not anymore”.

Viktor goes back to being silent.

Yuuri feels bad. “Sorry,” he breathes out “sorry, just ignore me, I’m a beached whale. My whole point to this was that watching movies, and fully immersing myself in the feelings that come with that fostered my passion for film. And I think it could do the same for you. Also sorry again”.

Viktor chuckles, but this time it sounds kind of sad, “It’s okay, Yuuri. I know how hard it is to show yourself. Trust me… I know…” his voice is distant, somewhere far away from them, somewhere far away from this universe. “But I think that sounds like a great idea,” he continues, coming back down a bit, “I would love to try. Do you have a list to send me that you would like me to watch?”

Yuuri bites his lip. He needs to find that courage again.

“Well, maybe I was wondering… I was wondering if maybe you actually wanted to watch them together?”

Silence. Silence. Silence. Before,

“Together?!?!”

Yuuri briefly pulls the phone away from his ear at the sudden loudness of his voice. Viktor is fully back on earth now, that much is clear.

Yuuri swallows hard and shakes his head yes even though Viktor can’t see him do it. Luckily he realizes this and spurts out, “Yes… yes together. I mean if that’s okay with you. I know it’s more fun to watch with people and that way we can talk about them and, I don’t know. Only if you would li-”

This time it’s Viktors turn to blurt, “Yes!” His voice slightly cracks and Yuuri has to clasp his mouth shut to keep from giggling. Viktor clears his throat ferociously, and puts on the manliest voice he can muster, “Yes I would love that. I will get an apartment in Portland right away”.

Yuuri’s face cracks into a smile before he can fully process Viktor’s words, “Great! We can start with- wait…” He cuts himself off as what Viktor had said sinks in, “Apartment!?”

“Yes!” Viktor says happily, his Russian voice teeming with joy. “I have to go, I need to call my realtor!”

Yuuri’s brain can’t keep up, “Wait-”

“I have loved this chat, Yuuri, thank you so much! I can’t wait to learn even more about you!”

Yuuri is lost for words (again). The excitement that is teeming out of Viktor is so pure and palpable that it is making Yuuri feel a bit giddy too.

“Oh.. okay, um, bye!”

“Bye Yuuriiii” Viktor draws the last letter of his name out in a way that makes them feel like they’ve known each other forever. Like they are already best friends.

Yuuri barely registers the beep of Viktor hanging up. He stays frozen in that spot. Hand still holding the phone to his ear, eyes still glued to the mirror across the room. He sees himself in the reflection and he doesn’t recognize the person staring back at him.

He can’t deny how exhilarating all of this feels. How after only a handful of conversations with this world famous actor, Viktor already seems more familiar to him than his own two hands. It makes no logical sense, yet for some reason Yuuri is completely swept up in it. In fact he wants to be swept up in it. For once, the unknown is actually exciting to him and he can’t wait to dive in.

No pun intended.