Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Hey guys! So, my name’s Katsuki Yuuri and I’m back today with another YouTube video!”

That’s how every single one of his videos start. How on Earth do I know such a thing? Well, I’ve watched all of them before. Start to finish. Why? That’s a question I’m rather uncertain with. Was it his shy smile he gave the camera every time he saw that small red light click on? The way he always rested his hands between his knees for warmth, only to look so fucking adorable that you wanted to tackle him on the spot? Those beautiful, hazel eyes that sometimes appeared to be of the tones of chocolate from time-to-time? I don’t know, and maybe I’ll never understand what makes me attracted to this younger YouTuber.

He only has 1,763 subscribers. Which is quite saddening, since he deserves so much more- But he doesn’t complain. He doesn’t make videos with obviously click-baiting titles, nor does he have thumbnails with even more click-batey intentions. They’re always just a frame from one of his videos; a smiling Yuuri along with whatever he was doing for that video in particular adorning oneself. That’s where my mouse pointer travels to every morning at 2 AM when I can’t sleep; to another smiling Yuuri where I drink up every last drop of his smiles that I can withstand.

What’s even better is the fact that he’s absolutely fucking hilarious as well, and most of the time he isn’t even trying. He’ll make small, snarky comments at things and I find myself throwing a hand over my mouth in order to obtain my laughter. He has always deserved so much more credit than what he has gotten within the past year or so, but there’s nothing I can do about it. If I give a shout-out it will make him seem desperate and he might even get hate for it as well. That’s not what I want. I want a genuine, happy Yuuri for the world to see; not whatever society condemns him to.

I haven’t subscribed to him within the past year either. Why? I’m not quite certain. I think it mostly has to do with other people finding out about my seeming ‘obsession’ towards the younger YouTuber. I’m afraid of what my subscribers would think, what my family would think, and mostly, what Yuuri would think. I’m always frightened of certain little things every time I make a video. For the most part, I spend extra time trying to make my hair seem as perfect as possible- just in case he decides to watch my videos. I’m so eager to please him that I even make conscious decisions in daily life regarding; “Would Yuuri like it or not?” And frankly, it’s absolutely insane. I’m more like a dog than I would ever be human.

Not only that, but I feel insane. I don’t want to have such an obsession with a smaller YouTuber because in the end, I know that we will never meet, I’ll never see his face in person, and he would never ever like my personality. I’m pushy, annoying, and just a bit too over the top for most people’s taste- including Yuuri. He even stated in a video that over-the-top people annoyed him quite greatly, and as soon as the words left his mouth, I felt my heart sink.

Damn my sensitive nature.

That didn’t stop me from hoping though. I want to meet him in real life- I truly do! But how? He would never be able to go to any YouTube conventions with anyone since he’s such a small channel, and it’s not like he’d be in any collabs with anyone who would ever think of inviting me…. So my hopes are surely to die off within the next year or so. That’s what I keep trying to tell myself; It’s just a phase… a season of my devotion for a YouTuber who hasn’t even hit the 2,000 mark like I had six years ago. It will go away in due time…. I just have to wait it out.

Winter is a time of healing; a time of great patience for what is yet to come.

YouTuber conventions are a pain in the ass.

They’re supposed to be enjoyable, for our part and whoever comes to see us, but in reality it’s all just one giant shit show of trying to book certain flights; or in this case, one to Orlando Florida where Playlist live is to be held.

I mean, sure, it is nice to see our subscribers in person and to thank them for letting us have the opportunity to be here anyways, but alas, when they are all put together into one screaming mass of teens demanding photos and signatures.. it becomes quite tiring and not to mention… terrifying. Even when you’re not even in the venue, if you try to get in the back way without security officers, you’re most likely going to be trampled underfoot.

It’s a convention, not a Justin Bieber concert for fucks sake.

As I live in Russia, I had to book a flight from Moscow to Orlando within just a few weeks before it all took place: The twenty-first of April.

I’m the king of procrastination. Deal with it.

Another YouTuber in which I have collabed with on numerous occasions, who will also be attending the event, is Chris Giacometti from Switzerland. He’s been skyping me nonstop with more and more details regarding the event due to the fact of me being so incompetent and lazy. We’ve been friends for around four years now, and he is also who had gotten me discovered on YouTube when I was just a young, starting up channel. When I had hit the half million mark during my second year of YouTube, he contacted me and we collabed together with some comedy skit that he had written out over the previous week or so. I soon began to build up a steady following after that, and boom. Now here I am with thirty-two-million subscribers- and still growing. It’s crazy to think about how much of a smaller channel I was when I’m now so large.

That sounds wrong.

But you know what I meant.

Moving on…

This Playlist Live experience will be the first one I will ever go to. I’ve never gone to any in the past since I was so terrified of meeting my fans, but after a few small meet ups in Russia with another YouTuber (russianTiger) named Yuri Plisetski, I realized that it was quite nice to do, and last year when I had gotten the invitation in around December, I had agreed.

This is the first ever time I will ever be going to such a large gathering, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. I Tweeted about my nerves on Twitter a few times, but everyone told me that it wasn’t a big deal, and that I’d be absolutely fine.

That still doesn’t mean I’m not nervous, though.

That also leads me to where I currently am standing at the given time; stood frozen by the airline’s gates in which Chris would be walking through at any given moment. Since it was so cold in Russia during the spring months, (at least it was for me. Everyone else seemed at ease) I had been sitting out in my car for a few hours as I awaited Chris’s arrival; which was surely going to an interesting experience.

I rubbed my gloved hands together and then blew into my now closed fists. Wasn't there a rumor somewhere out in the world that Russians were rather accustomed to the cold? I huffed. What a fucking load of bull shit. I can't stand the cold; never have, never will.

Yuuri likes the cold-

I will fucking bitch slap you, inner thoughts.

Never have I ever found the reason for why it was so fucking cold in this airline in particular. I've been to many of them over the years and they had never nearly given me frostbite waiting for a man from Switzerland to get off his flight- which, by the way, had landed a whopping hour ago. What was taking the pilot so long? Was he like, reenacting the scene from the bee movie outside on the runway?

The memes are starting to take a toll on my physical life-

"Oh my god!" A high pitched screech came from behind me (probably about thirty feet back- and now it's the fucking "Actual Cannibal Shia Labeouf" meme polluting my thoughts. God damn it-). I froze and avoided eye contact for a few moments, knowing that they could be fangirling about literally anyone else in the airport at that very moment. My hands ceased to rub together and I felt my shoulders hunch at the loud noise.

"You're Viktor Nikiforov!"

Welp, I tried.

I ditched my tired, weary face and smiled brightly at the girl; doing my signature solute with my pointer finger and thumb extended from my forehead, "Ohayo!" My subscribes were rather familiar with the way I tended to speak Japanese quite frequently.

She quickly pulled out her phone and walked briskly towards me. The girl looked nice, so I had no reason to turn her down for a photo or a signature of the sort. (She might as well had been foaming at the mouth since she was shaking so badly- but I couldn't blame her. When I met Gerard Way for the first time I couldn't even coherent form words or phrases.)

"If it isn't too much trouble, may I get a photo with you? I've been dying to meet you for years now!" The brunette girl grinned widely and looked at me expectantly. I had no right to turn her down, for she was so polite and even waited to have a photo until she had my full permission. My subscribers are so nice.

"Sure! It isn't any trouble at all! How many years have you been a subscriber?" I took the phone she was now extending towards me with shaking fingers and opened up the photo application. I held it above and quickly snapped a few photos of us; her smiling brightly and me giving the camera a different, weird face each time and one good smile.

"Four years!" She was way too happy for just saying one statement, "I first saw you when you did your collab with Chris in that one holiday skit! It was hilarious and I just had to subscribe!"

I smiled at her and handed her phone back to ear quaking palms, "Awe! That's so sweet of you to stay a subscriber for so long- and an active one as well! Usually people grow bored with my content after a while- oh, and what's your name?"

"I could never! And it's Mari, Katsuki Mari!"

I nearly froze but continued to act as nonchalant as ever. Was Katsuki a popular last name for Japanese people? It was definitely Japanese and she also had an accent, but she didn't look like Yuuri... that doesn't mean they still couldn't be related though...

"Lovely name, Japanese, is it?"

Mari nodded vigorously and gestured behind her with a thumb thrown over her shoulder, "Yep! I'm here with my mom and brother on a small vacation just before we go to Florida for Playlist Live! I heard you were going this year?" It sounded more like a question than a statement so I politely nodded.

"Yep! Hopefully I'll see you there, and you're family too! Is your brother a subscriber as well? I'd like to meet him if so." I don't know if it sounded creepy or not in her eyes, but either way she snorted unladylike and nodded once more.

"Are you kidding me? He's probably your biggest fan! I wouldn't be surprised if he had a fucking shrine in his room!"

Was that supposed to be a compliment...?

"Well, I'd love to meet this super fan of mine!" I put as much emphasis on each of my words I could ever begin to think of mustering. I even threw in a few over dramatic hand movements for her own entertainment purposes (you're welcome, Mari. Fangirls were fucking weird with the things they found amusing.)

"I'll go get him!" Without another word being spoken, she dashed off around a corner and I was allowed to relax and let my facade drop for a few moments. I mean, I was happy with meeting her. I was just so ever-loving tired that I couldn't focus or even smile for too long without having all of my energy drained for my body. I straightened my jacket and made sure my gloves were tucked on my fingers properly before the girl's brother would come around the corner. What if he was Yuuri? I don't even think I'd be able to contain myself if it was him.

Soon, she returned, tugging someone along behind her.

And...

It wasn't Yuuri.

It was some Evanescence looking fuck. Like seriously. The kid was straight out of a 2005 music video on MySpace... or better yet, an MCR rejected band member.

Did he forget to fucking join the black parade?

"Viktor, this is my adoptive brother, Georgi!" She pushed the nervous-looking boy forwards and I tried my best to not appear saddened by the lack of Katsuki Yuuri. We exchanged a few words, he got a photo, and then the two left without another word besides a million "I love your videos," and, "thank you so much for your time!" They were nice, but I bet I sounded like a salty-ass bitch the entire time since Georgi wasn't Yuuri. I guess Katsuki was a popular last name.

What a shame.

"Viktor!"

Oh look, it's Chris- After letting me stand there in the cold for nearly and hour and a half, he finally decides to make an appearance... not to mention the few hours I spent in the car because he insisted that I should come early just in case the flight arrived sooner than expected.

He got the silent treatment on our way home.

Spring; a period of time in which is used to regrow all that has been lost, and even gain a few things in return.

“Chris, I think we missed our flight.”

“No, Viktor, we didn’t. It leaves an hour.”

“How certain are you with that statement? You’re avoiding eye contact-”

“Viktor. We’re going to be fine. I just checked it on my phone.”

“I just saw an airplane take off from the runway- Chris, I think that was ours-!”

“It wasn’t. That one is leaving for Australia, you idiot.”

“I swear to god that the airplane that just left had our flight number!”

“Okay, what’s the number then, O great Viktor?”

“124!”

“Well, our flight number- according to the website of the airline in which we will be flying with- perfectly shows -right here- that our flight number is 328.”

“...”

“...”

“That’s faulty.”

“It’s a government approved website, Viktor.”

“...Fuck off.”

My mother had warned me about this. My father had warned me about this. And even my subscribers had warned me about this… but did I listen? Um, quite the opposite, actually. You see, I had heard rumors about how hot it was in the southern region of the United States. I asked literally everyone I had ever met about it and they agreed; saying that it was: “as hot as satan’s testicles in a frying pan.” in Florida… and guess what I made the conscious decision of doing?

Packing fucking sweaters, of all things, and practically nothing else excluding a thick, black, long sleeved shirt. I mean, it was a v-neck, meaning that it was stylish as fuck and everyone else would be jelly if they looked in my direction, but why was everything fucking long sleeved? I want to invent a time machine so i can go back in time and punch myself in the face.

Fuck, I could make a lot of money off of that. Imagine the headlines: “Of all people, YouTuber, Viktor Nikiforov, is the first inventor with a fully operating time machine.” Mmm, I can't already see all of those Benjamins that I will be bathing in by the end of next year-

Except for the fact that you didn't fucking make anything, and you're actually just sitting in a lawn chair outside of the pool in the hotel that you're staying in. Lazy piece of shit. This is why your mother wanted a girl-

Fuck off, inner thoughts. Don't go raining on my parade just because you're feeling salty today.

“Viktor! Come on in! The water’s nice!” And that was Chris interrupting my inner battles. He popped up from beneath the cool water and lifted himself onto the concrete edge of the swimming pool, making a huge show of swishing his hair around to rid himself of any stray droplets. He looked like a dog. Like the dog I have back home that is currently staying with my parents.

What if they don't feed Makkachin when you’re gone…?

Someone's gonna lose a few fingers.

I snorted at his comment and resumed my sunbathing; obviously attempting to ignore him and his constant pestering of: “Oh, c’mon Viktor! Come into the water and go swimming for a bit! It's really nice-” and blah, blah blah, blah blah. I don't care. By the time I return home to Russia, I want a bomb as fuck tan. Not some swimming experience.

“No, I'm sunbathing.”

I could practically hear the frown in his voice with his next statement: “Awe, please? It'll be fun~” The way his voice trailed off and there was a sudden large movement of water made me scowl, but I didn't open my eyes to observe whatever he was planning. I didn't have time for that bullshit; I needed my tan. Fuck off, Chris. Just because you have a natural tan doesn't mean you can come ruin all of my fun for whatever bitch-ass shit you're planning on doing.

“Leave me alone.”

A shadow fell over me and he laughed heartily, “Oh, Viktor c’mon now! I wasn't planning on doing anything~” I peeled open one icy eye to glare him down from where he was standing over me.

“But you're doing that voice.”

He faked innocence with two hands splayed on his hips; like my mother would previously do whenever she had used to barge into my room and demand for everything to be clean instantaneously, “What voice?”

Another unattractive snort left my throat, “Fuck off, you Swiss cunt. You know what talking about. The one where you feign innocence and pretend to be all perfect and stuff. Like, “Oh~ What ever~ could you mean~, my little Vladimir Putin companion~”

“I don't think you can say that.”

“I say what I want, when I want. Ain't nobody gonna stop me, and no one will ever be able to make me remove my behind from this lawn chair.” I crossed one leg over the other and upturned my head in his direction as I allowed my eyes to fall close from behind my sunglasses, “Leave, peasant.”

Chris laughed and then there was a startled sound erupting from where he was standing.

“Oh my god! Is that Katsuki Yuuri?!”

I opened my eyes so quickly that even from behind my sunglasses, I was practically blinded by the sun- aka, Phil Lester’s smile.

“Where?!” Chris was the only one in the entire world to have found out about my, ‘Yuuri obsession.’ I didn't even tell him or anything. He just did a bit of snooping on my computer when I was in the shower, and when I got out I realized he had opened up my YouTube and looked at my history and recommended page. Oh god, I still remember how red my face had gotten when Chris asked who he was.

”Who's he?”

“No one….”

“Then why have you watched nearly every one of his videos- twice?”

“...This is why you have no friends, Chris.”

“Hey! I'm your friend!”

“No you're not. You snooped through my laptop.”

“Oh, don't be so triggered! I don't care- in fact, he's pretty cute! It's a shame he only has a thousand subscribers though… Do you only watch him because of his looks? Is he literally what you masturbate to?”

“...”

“...”

“Move away from the computer, dick-weed.”

Ah, we have such a healthy relationship.

Yeah, a "healthy realationship" that now consisted of him chucking me into the pool in which he had just recently been swimming in.

He received the silent treatment once again.

Chapter Text

Summer; the favorite season of many, for you are able to live life without a single care in the world, and you are able to run freely as you wish. It’s the climax of the year; when you and friends can live nonchalantly and not have to worry about the people that will affect you once these few seasons are over- and you stop caring.

But like all good things, it ends. And those that become cocky over their feelings and dreams, are the ones who that are destroyed in the end. Their real reason to live with meaning falls away just like the dying leaves, and those whims… they pile up one after one until they are left barren.

I thought that my description of Playlist Live would’ve been a bit of an overreaction. Surely, my description of thousands upon thousands of fangirls was anything but accurate. I’ve seen photos of the event… It couldn’t be that bad… right? Chris has and had been talking about it for the past five months now, and he hasn’t said anything about it being quite terrifying with the amount of people there- and honestly, I wish he would’ve prepared me for this.

It was seriously the epitome of a Justin Bieber concert- but for YouTubers.

As I was now approaching the event –courtesy of the creators of Playlist Live and a car they had sent for me and Chris- I was terrified, but also exuberant to know that the streets even outside of the event were polluted with fans holding up signs for their favorite online creators. I even saw numerous signs regarding me, which made me smile brightly at such a sight. And to think, that just a few years ago I was held up in my room with no friends, and probably not even a real reason for living… and now, I had met so many people that I now have the ability to call my friends; it's rather mind boggling, to be entirely honest.

I pulled out my phone and took a quick photo of the crowded street in the early morning light of Florida -from behind my darkened windows- and posted it on Instagram with a small caption of how exuberant I was to meet some of my long-term and short-term subscribers. It wasn’t even false at this point. I was slowly getting over my fear of having to perfect myself for them all, and was now dawning upon the fact that they liked me for who I was. They didn’t want some scripted, rehearsed version of myself (Even I didn’t want such a thing to occur; or later exist for the entire world to see on the internet). They came to see the real me; the dorky Russian that made them smile genuinely… the man who maybe even pulled them out of whatever rut they may have been in. So I wasn’t going to go by whatever script the people at Playlist would surely force upon me with whatever schedule they had to abide by- I was going to be myself. I was going to throw away the little paper of notes that my driver had given me to say and I was going to go make some fucking people smile and laugh their asses off.

After all, that has always been the one and only thing I wish to gain from YouTube: making people happy.

You just wanted the money, you fucking cun-

Fuck off, inner thoughts. This is not the time nor place.

Chris smiled out the window and nearly looked like a child on Christmas morning, “Wow, this is even a better turnout than last year. I guess more people came this time ‘round since there’s quite a bit more creators coming.” Today he had decided to wear his glasses (he looked like a rejected audition for Harry Potter) instead of contacts, and I already knew on the inside, and in the very pit of my stomach, that Tumblr would be talking about this shit like crazy since Chris practically never wore his glasses, and when he did, everyone literally freaked the fuck out. Like straight up, all capitals, bold, and entire blogs dedicated to just him in glasses.

The internet’s fucking weird.

Awe, I should’ve brought Makkachin. Everyone would’ve loved that.

My mother better be feeding him three times a day (he was spoiled) or I swear to god-

“The event center is just up here a bit,” Our diver suddenly said after nearly an entire ride of complete and utter silence.

The guy was shady as fuck too. How did he even get employed at a place like this? They must not run background checks here, because this guy was definitely in some underground shit. He looks like a fucking Mafia Boss.

He also kind of looks like Drake.

Like an underground, Mafia Drake that smells like –strangely enough- bubblegum.

I wonder if you can buy weed that has bubblegum flavoring…

Probably not.

My dreams are dashed.

“When going into the center, please stay in the areas that are marked for online creators- and nowhere else- At least without a body guard, that is. Believe me, some of these fans are straight up crazy. I will also be accompanying you both thought today as we go through numerous venues and such,” He turned left down another street and I was startled to see that there were even more fans than there had been on the other road, “Follow the papers that have been given to you and don’t do anything stupid today- that’s all I have to say.”

A fan practically slammed her face against the window I had rolled down just a bit to get some fresh air, and I nearly leapt three feet backwards onto the other side of the vehicle. The Drake look-alike cursed lightly and started to speed up; dramatically taking sharp turns down back streets and probably going through a few red lights. I nearly clung to Chris for safety in that practically terrifying moment.

Who knew that Drake drove like Nicholas Cage?

But, our safety didn’t last long. For there was a large blockage of fangirls at the end of a particular alleyway near the event. They screamed at the sight of our vehicle and then attacked moments later, fingers reaching into the opening in the window (was this Attack on Titan) and banging on the windows. I’m pretty sure that they weren’t my fans anyways, nor Chris’s. For one, most of them were wearing identical shirts that were completely purple excluding “IT’S JJ STYLE” written in large, bold print., and secondly, they were completely different from what I’ve seen previously.

It straight up felt like The Walking Dead.

Rick, please save us.

I began to think that all hope was lost, and I was about to say my last words to Chris –who was also ultimately terrified- when suddenly, a black car identical to our own passed before us on the street. Canadian YouTuber known as TheKing, popped out from the window on the roof of his own car.

He whistled loudly and attracted the attention of all of the girls, flicking his hair and then doing his signature position of two pointer fingers and thumbs extended over his crossed chest. About three moments of silence passed on that morning in May.

“It’s JJ style!”

We escaped just by the hairs of our necks after that.

I wish I could say the same for JJ.

As soon as we arrived at the event center, we were already being swarmed by –not crazed fans- but the very people running the venue themselves, sponsors in which were asking for either me or Chris to mention one of their products, and even the media (which was an entirely new experience for me). Never in my entire life had people been shoving cameras in my face, all while demanding for me to pose in a certain way or wave as we were walking into the venue and past a few small backdrops.

Honestly, I felt like I was act the Oscars or the American Music Awards instead of an online creator gathering.

From what I saw, it looked as if nearly the entire thing was empty for the time being. Chris said that we were to arrive an hour earlier than it started in order to set up our own booths –like I fucking knew that we needed to bring stuff for it- and get ourselves ready. Bitch, I’m always fucking ready.

“Drake” (he said his name was David but fuck that, he looked like Drake so that’s what I’m gonna call him) led us through the main bit of the building, and I nearly screeched as I saw a poster that had both mine and Yuri’s face on it. I had even remembered taking that photo with him in Russia when we decided to host a small get-together with our fans! Yuri had his usual, suave look on his face as he practically had glared at the camera during the time, and I was smiling brightly with Makkachin lapping at my face and a small “peace sign” on my fingers.

“Someone’s acting narcissistic,” Chris said sarcastically with a small chuckle as I dug out my phone and took a selfie by it. He re-adjusted the bag of things he was going to decorate his booth with back onto his shoulder and he smiled up at the poster, “Wow, I can’t believe you two got into the highlights this year- it was probably since you gained nearly two million subscribers alone within the last eight months, no?”

I practically ignored the male as I took off down towards the area in which Drake had said where all of the YouTubers were to be for their meet-and-greets. Excitement was practically making my body vibrate as I looked about with joy from vender to vender- smiling as I saw many YouTubers I was accustomed with, and some I had even collabed with within the last year alone. There were a few fans that had paid extra to get in early, but besides that, they were mostly online creators. Tyler Oakley, Phichit Chalanount, Grace Helbig, Hannah Hart, Joey Graceffa, Shane Dawson, Dan and Phil, KickThePj, and so many more! I almost lost it!

One of the early-access fans must’ve recognized me, as he quickly rushed over and stated how much of a huge fan he was, and how he was probably my “Biggest fan.” He was dressed in all black excluding a red flannel and his bright multicolored hair (and flower crown, bitch slay me.) I thanked him for being a subscriber and posed for a photo with him before he rushed off to his friends and jumped up and down, probably ecstatic that he had met one of his favorite YouTuber’s.

Chris joined me moments later (along with Drake) and directed me to where my booth was supposed to go (according to a piece of paper containing a map of where everyone was to be located), and I was delighted to see that there was a white stand-up table, a fold-up chair, and a blank backdrop about three feet back from the table, obviously for me to hang the things in which I had mindfully forgot. On the practically pathetic-looking table was a piece of paper that read: ”Table reserved for Victor Niciforove.”

Bitch, the fuck is this. That’s not even close to how you’re supposed to spell my name-

“I’m going to go find my own reserved area,” Chris said with a snort as he observed what my booth was entitled to. Just as he spoke, the fold-up chair collapsed upon itself and fell to the floor backwards, picking up a small cloud of dirt and dust from where people must’ve already walked on the white tarp. “You sure you’re going to be okay? Do you need to borrow anything of mine? Like a chair that can actually stand on its own?” He eyed me skeptically as he attempted to contain his obvious laughter.

I sighed through my nose but didn’t argue with him. I wasn’t all that disappointed by the turnout anyways- at least it wasn’t just a small square on the concrete floor in which I would’ve had to deal with. I had nearly an hour to fix this baby up to meet my fan’s standards- and that was definitely enough time for me.

“I need a package of markers.”

“Hm?”

“Sharpies; at least something to write with,” I held out my hand in his direction expectantly. I wasn’t going to repeat myself. I saw him pack that rainbow package of sharpies into that pink Victoria’s Secret bag last night. He wasn’t fooling anyone. (Don’t judge, that man had class.)

Chris handed them over wearily and then laughed, “What are you going to do with them?” I tore open the back of the package and pulled out a few of the markers, setting them onto the pathetic, barely even standing table before whistling at the fan from earlier from where he was standing with his group of friends. They all looked as if they had nearly shit themselves as I waved them over eagerly. Chris looked confused but didn’t question whatever I was about to do. He was probably rather accustomed to the shit I pulled on the daily.

They approached wearily, but at the same time I knew they were excited since I had addressed them. They stopped on the other side of my table and looked at me with bright, gleaming eyes that made them look like giddy children.

“Do you guys like to draw- or do any of you have any experience with a few good memes?”

Yep, they were confused. Chris shook his head and walked away from the matter, Drake following behind him closely. The three friends glanced at one another with cocked eyebrows but smiled nonetheless.

“I’d say I’m quite the experienced ‘memer.’” He just referenced a video I had made when I was just starting out on YouTube. I like him already The guy from earlier said as he crossed his arms and looked up at me, “Ashley is also quite the artist, she has even drawn pictures of you before.”

‘Ashley’ looked quite embarrassed at her friend’s comments, but nodded nonetheless and stuttered out: “I-I like t-to draw in my spare time…. Why?” She looked up from the floor where she had adverted her gaze and connected her stare with my own.

“Because…” I carried out, handing them all a few markers, “I want us to decorate my booth! Chris didn’t inform me that we were to bring items to decorate our meet-and-greet area with, so I have to improvise with something else- and that’s where you guys come in.”

They were silent for a few moments.

“I mean, if you want too-“

The first boy smiled brightly and quickly put my hesitation at rest with a loud, “Would I ever!” before quickly getting to the task of firstly decorating my backdrop while Ashley popped open a black marker to observe its edges.

The other boy in which was accompanying the two pointed to the table and asked if he could draw on it. Immediately, I agreed to his question and clapped my hands together once rather loudly. “That’d be great! And I honestly don’t care what you guys decide to draw on. This stuff isn’t even mine, it belongs to PlayList live- But! They didn’t pay of my flight over here, so I’ll call it getting even.” The three friends snorted at my statement.

“Typical Viktor.”

“Of course you’d do something like that.”

“What better way than ruining their table and backdrop?”

“Gotta hurt them where it counts.”

Throughout the rest of the hour, we managed to get a hearty sum of the backdrop covered with small designs, little sketches of both me and even one Ashley had done of my face at a ¾ angle, accompanied by a flower crown in which the first boy had been wearing –later I learned that his name was Jeremy- and a t-shit that the second boy had been dressed in –his name was Edmond, but they addressed him as Ed- needless to say, I was so exuberant over what she had created, I posted it on twitter in nearly .5 seconds after I forced her to sign the artwork. She was so incredibly talented that I couldn’t even function without saying loudly: “Wow! Amazing!”

Ed had covered the entire table with numerous swirls and intercit designs, all in all of the colors of the rainbow. He even included a small chibi drawing of me and Makkachin. That one in particular made me smile like an absolute dork, and I posted that one on Tumblr (and, I don’t know… made my home and lock screen….) Jeremy covered a good sum of the backdrop in memes, ranging from small sketches of Pepe all of the way to references and even a small memorial for Glenn from The Walking Dead. God, I loved that kid and his sense of humor.

By the time that we said our farewells (and I got their social media account @’s to follow them) and people began flowing in through the entrance, Drake and Chris had come back to alert me that we were to head to a so-called ‘auditorium’ to where we were going to be in a comic-relief panel in which we were going to answer questions from our fans and just be funny in general.

I wasn’t even notified of this either. Seriously, the people running this even did an absolutely horrible idea of telling us what was going to go down- but after all, I should’ve probably gotten in touch with the people running this event in particular.

Chris seemed to really enjoy what I and a few of my fans had created within our short amount of time, and even Drake seemed to like the whole concept I had conjured up within my mind. They said that it was both creative, and also adorable for including a few of the people who have even let me get here in the first place. (I even pissed off a few of the workers here for destroying one of their tables and backdrops, but fuck them. They said that they were going to pay for my flight, but guess what? I haven’t seen a dime since I’ve been here, and I like what Ashley, Ed, and Jeremy had created. It’s heartwarming.)

“So,” A worker said to me just before I arrived in the room where I was to entertain everyone within. She handed me a small microphone and quickly explained how I was to turn in on as I entered, “There are very strict rules when concerning the panel today. No eating on stage, no swearing, no offensive jokes or crude humor, no addressing political figures and/or stating your own political beliefs to be known to everyone inside. No bringing fans onto stage or making contact with them whatsoever. No bringing up things that have occurred in history to be made as jokes; examples including The Holocaust, The bombing of Hiroshima, or any terrorist attacks. Don’t ask questions about why that is a rule, things like that have occurred during the past few years.” She adjusted my shirt and ordered me to fix my hair before I went on stage.

I snorted, “Is there anything you can do?”

Her face went red with anger and she rudely pushed me towards the entrance of the ‘auditorium.’ Needless to say, she was anything but impressed with my small attempt of a joke, as she pushed me out onto the stage before I was ready, and I was left nearly tripping over my own feet as I tried to gain my balance.

Immediately, I was greeted with the eager faces of thousands of people and a panel full of other YouTubers except for one empty chair.

Bitch, why was there an empty chair? It looks absolutely horrible by itself and I am disgusted by the lack of symmetry-

Oh, that’s for me…

I need to start ,like, fucking training my brain on one of those apps that are always ads on YouTube. Bitches be blocking me from watching another Shane Dawson Conspiracy theory video, like- get on my level.

"What’s up motherfuckers!” I yelled into the microphone –I turned it on before, don’t worry about it- and plopped down into the seat, enjoying the way everyone cheered and screamed at my words. (Is this what it feels like to be Beyonce???)

Look, I’ve been on here for literally five seconds, and I’ve already broken a rule.

There’s definitely going to be a few offensive jokes up in this bitch before its over.

Chapter Text

Everything was going fine- which was going against every single little thing that I had told myself before I had walked out onto this damned stage. All of the people in the audience seemed extremely nice from the questions they had been asking, and all of the panel members were very friendly; a few in which I had never met before. Besides Chris and I, there were two others I had never met or collaborated with- which wasn’t that much of a surprise. I had never gone to a convention that was as large as this one, meaning that there would be nearly no possibility of me meeting many other YouTubers except for a few. Those in which consisted of: Phichit Chulanont- Thai YouTuber that was extremely famous for his large Instagram following, and Guang-Hong Ji; loved for his opposition to the “typical” gender roles that men and women were condemned to follow.

In the audience, I had already spotted the girl that I had met from the airport a few days previous back in Russia named Mari, and her brother Georgi. She waved like nearly everyone else in the room, and I found it upon myself to wave back at her and she absolutely freaked out, turning around to consult someone I guessed to be a friend or guardian; I couldn’t see them all too well. Georgi immediately came to the conclusion that I was waving at him and not his sister, and he nearly fainted. He was probably a nice kid, but I was still salty from him “posing” as Yuuri. It wasn’t even like he claimed to be the other YouTuber anyways, he just had the same surname as him and I had jumped to a conclusion before I had any solid evidence. So I was left a salty bitch for no fucking reason at all. Actually, his clothing choice was fucking horrible. Like, somewhere between a rejected K-pop boy band member, and an imposter of Brendon Urie that crawled through a dumpster. (So basically Shane Dawson.)

The woman that angrily shoved me out onto stage after my sarcastic comment came out on numerous occasions to, quote on quote, “turn it down a few notches,” from all of my swearing and offensive attempts at humor, but I honestly couldn’t find myself with the ability to care. It’s probably been around five times within the last fifteen minutes, and she still seriously thinks that she’s being secretive with the whole thing. The bitch fucking prances onto the stage, leans over three chairs to reach me and whispers into my ear (which is picked up by the microphone, mind you) “tone it down, or you’re going to be kicked out.) They probably can’t do shit, and if they did, they’re gonna have a large amount of extremely angry fans.

Chris was now in the middle of selecting random fans in the audience to ask questions and have them answered by everyone in the panel. Most of them were regarding relationships, favorites of numerous things, etcetera; nothing really new or that I hadn’t been asked before. Nonetheless, I responded as enthusiastically as possible and acted as if I had never heard them before. I didn’t want to let anyone down, and it was fun to occasionally switch up a few things from time-to-time with differing answers. I’ve only been asked such things at meet and greets, so it was quite an unfamiliar experience with over a thousand pairs of eyes staring at me whilst I was answering. I’ve never been good in the spotlight, but I’d like to think that I handled my uncomfort pretty well- or at least pretended that there was nothing bothering me whatsoever.

“You!” Chris yelled towards the back of the crowd, snapping me from whatever haze I had just been in, “In the very back with the blue sweater!” Oh. He selected Mari. The male smiled brightly in the direction of the practically over-enthusiastic female, and leaned a bit closer in her direction in order to hear what she was asking for a question. Georgi looked as if he was going to scream out of pure excitement; the feeling that came with someone so close to him being selected.

Mari blushed brightly at herself being chosen and she cleared her throat; a noise just audible over the murmuring of the crowd and the happy voices that were obviously enjoying the fact that people were being selected for answering questions, and possibly even wishing to be chosen as well. The crimson drained from her face as quickly as it had appeared, and giddily yelled out: “Viktor! Are you ever going to go on tour~?”

A few people within the audience laughed at the question and stared up at me with hopeful eyes. I had never thought about going on tour before, since I had always been so busy, but it didn’t seem like such a bad idea when I put it in perspective. I could go to southern Asia, Europe, America, Australia…Japan… It would be quite fun to do… But I didn’t want to make any immediate decisions where I could be held accountable for my voice- especially when I was under the pressure of all of these people staring at me with their bright grins and wistful faces… But I also didn’t want to let anyone down.

I leaned forward in my chair and held the microphone to my lips with a quick run of my fingers through my hair. I was sweating like fucking crazy in this Floridian heat. I knew I should’ve probably packed a few T-shirts, It really is as hot as Satan’s testicles in a frying pan here. I didn’t want to make any immediate, harsh decisions here, so I decided to answer with the vague response of: “Maybe, I’ve been thinking about it for quite a long time, and I think it’s about time to meet my audience.”

Everyone cheer, and a girl probably just a few years younger than Mari found it within her very best interests to yell out: “Where would you go?”

Even though I didn’t want to say it, I accidently said, “Japan,” before anything else, and then muttered to cover up my quick out-lash, “America, Australia, southern Asia… I don’t know, I guess I’d figure it out when it comes time for it.” I smiled to cover up my outburst even further. Many people throughout the room cheered at the declaration the region in which they called home, but there were only a few who had no celebration whatsoever. Did I not mention where they lived? I felt quite bad about it, but I had already spoken. If I stated anywhere else I might never get to go there, and that would just upset more and more people… Perhaps they just weren’t having the best of days; maybe they had a headache or something of the sort.

“Okay, next question,” Chris spoke, this time in his much more casual voice that he used for filming videos or conversing with someone on the phone with. He glanced around the room at all of the eager hands sticking up, and I could slowly feel myself start to sink into my seat. I was tired, sweaty, and probably dehydrated by now. I was just thanking the heavens and god himself for allowing me the power to never appear extremely sweaty from time-to-time, along with the fact that I was wearing a black shirt and seat wouldn’t be able to be seen from the dark tones of the fabric.

He pointed to a boy near the front of the room, and he briefly hopped up and down at being put under the spotlight in such a way. A few people around him (I assumed for them to be his friends from their close proximity) squealed with delight and watched him eagerly as he was about to say his question for us panel members. It was quite a normal occurrence at this point, but it was adorable each and every time it took place.

The teen glanced around the room and then a sudden idea seemed to come to him miraculously, “Um, Who’s your favorite smaller channel on YouTube? Like, one that hasn’t been technically “discovered” yet?” A boy next to him nodded vigorously.

Dude, calm down. You’re probably going to get a concussion if you keep nodding like that. Or at least whiplash

“Ah, great question!” Chris responded, seemingly deep in thought, “And what’s your name?” That was strange, Chris hadn’t asked for a name all night, and neither had anyone else in the panel. Phichit was too occupied with taking photos for Instagram, and Guang-Hong was merely just too shy to be that outgoing. Then again, Chris was full of surprises.

I could practically feel my mouth go dry at the question the boy had asked. I could feel a name I wanted to state ever so effortlessly from my tongue, but as of now, it felt foreign on my lips. What would happen if I said his name? Would the media begin to hate him? Would he get a huge following and then to only have a crash and burn after it wore away? Would he turn into one of those channels that were popular for about a year, but are now abandoned and entirely barren. Like Fred or AnnoyingOrange (#shade)

Drake would know what to do in this situation. Or perhaps Kris Jenner. She’s like my higher power or some shit. Ooo, what if she is that little voice in my head telling me what to do and what not to do?

And I’m getting off track again.

“His name is Andrew!” A boy sitting next to him yelled with a huge, shit-eating, lopsided grin. Andrew nodded at this and practically sighed in relief. I kind of felt bad for him for some reason. I knew how it felt to be put on the spot in such a way, and I understood how terrifying it must’ve been for him in such a situation. I’m glad that the guy next to him answered for him to help with that small bit of self-doubt and embarrassment. Very said teen wrapped his arm around Andrew and pulled him close enough to administer a kiss to his forehead. Now that’s fucking adorable. There’s couple of the year right there

I thought that after that very moment, it would be smooth sailing all until I had to answer to Andrew’s question in front of this giant room, but no. the waters still remained choppy as someone a few rows back from the couple ’boo’-ed’ at the interaction, all while laughing along with his friends. Numerous people around them gave them the stink-eye for such an act, but even a few joined in.

I thought that Chris was going to step in. I thought that some brave soul within the crowd would call out that asshole for being so rude to two people who just came to see their favorite YouTubers in person. I thought that security would kick them out, but none of which occurred. Chris was too busy looking in the other direction to get Phichit’s answer for Andrew’s question, no one in the crowd intervened, and no one in security seemed to care. I saw the second boy frown and whisper something into Andrew’s ear, in which he nodded reluctantly, said something that looked like: “It would be for the better,” and got up to leave the event entirely.

Not on my watch.

Quickly, I stood from my chair; shocking many throughout the room and even Chris, who was now staring at my actions with confusion. He wouldn’t stop me, that was for sure, as he trusted me and such-and-such, and the security guards wouldn’t have the power to stop me. I was tired of seeing homophobia displayed as if it were a normal part of life. It’s bull shit, that’s what it is.

“I want you to leave.”

Andrew looked up at me with tears brimming his eyes, and I knew all too well what he thought was meant by that statement. His head shamefully ducked downwards as he gathered his things near the chair in which he had been seated; a water bottle and a sweatshirt. “Y-Yes, we’ll leave, I’m sorry for causing so much trouble-“ His voice broke off and his seeming boyfriend wrapped an arm around his shoulder for comfort.

I practically felt my heart break- no, more so, shatter.

“No, no. You guys are fine. Please, sit and enjoy the rest of the panel,” I offered the duo a smile as they glanced at me with astonished faces, “It’s them in which I want to be removed,” I gestured to the small group of boys who had made fun of the couple for being themselves out in public. Homophobia wasn’t something I ever took lightly.

Their mouths fell open, and they looked like they were going to protest in some manner or another, but Drake was already to the rescue, and was by their side in mere seconds after I had said such a thing. He escorted them from the room without another word besides, “You’re banned for life.” Yes, thank you, my Drake-queen. and left in a totally silent manner.

Everyone in the room broke cheer loudly, and I even saw a few audience members begin to cry at my actions. It was no lie that many of mine, Chris’s, Phichit’s, and Guang-Hong’s subscribers were in the LGBTQ+ community (I go on Tumblr, I know everything) and to see some of which that had little to no tolerance to it at all made me feel sick to my stomach. At that moment, I completely forgot about Andrew’s question, and had acted upon impulse. I couldn’t blame myself for what I had done anyways. It was my job as a reasonable person to extinguish any hatred as soon as it had begun to flicker to life; it was what I abided by.

I sank down heavily into my seat and sighed, partially from the heat, but also the tiring act of having to deal with people that acted in such a way on a day-to-day basis. The warm temperature was already practically cooking me in an oven. Where the fuck is the AC in this place? Someone needs to hit me up with some Antarctica-like shit because I’m pretty sure I’m going to die if I don’t get any cold air.

“Alright, alright,” Chris said with a small laugh to calm the crowd down a bit so it was no longer a screaming mass of people, “Now that those people were removed, let’s get back to the question Andrew had asked!” He shot me a look from the corner of his eye and smirked. Oh hell no, you Swiss piece of shit. I will kick your balls up your throat- “So, Victor will go first!”

I hope he didn’t want children.

In a futile attempt to hide my obvious aggravation of making me go first, I clenched my teeth rather tightly and acted as if I were thinking of an answer rather than the millions of ways I could murder Chris creatively with the microphone in my hand. He knew exactly what I wanted to say, and he still made me answer before everyone else just in spite of me so I didn’t have enough time to think of another small channel. Damn him. He’s always been a crafty son-of-a-bitch.

“Well, I actually don’t watch that many other YouTubers…” I admitted truthfully as a starting statement. It was a hundred percent honest statement as well- I only watched Chris, Yuuri, and a few other large YouTubers (not that Yuuri’s account was majorly large or anything of the sort). I just never found any spare time to watch anyone else’s videos. I couldn’t lie and make up a random channels name, because people would obviously go to search up whoever I said because that’s how the internet works… and at the moment I couldn’t think of anyone other than the people I actually do watch. In addition, I didn’t want anyone to know about my “Yuuri obsession” that plagued my life constantly…

“I didn't really think I watch any smaller channels,” I muttered.

Chris snorted but didn’t seem to get my obvious discomfort, as he soon laughed and denied any attempts of mine to escape from whatever questioning was to be stated, “Oh, c’mon, Victor! There has to be at least one out there… someone you enjoy watching… someone you admire.” Again, with that fucking dead-ass smirk of his that I now wanted to backhand from his face. I wish I could just hit it until it flew to the stars- ooo, that reminds me of that One Republic song. ”We’ll be counting stars~”

“Well,” I pressed, earning a small bit of cheering from the crowd, “There is this one channel that I’ve been watching for a while now- and the guy that runs it is absolutely fucking hilarious.” I received a glare from the bitch that shoved me out onto the stage just about thirty minutes previous, due to my foul language, “And I really think that this guy deserves much more credit that what he’s getting. His name is Katsuki Yuuri, and he only has around two-thousand subscribers- but he deserves practically millions at this point in time.” I hated myself for letting it slip, but after I began talking… I just couldn’t stop. For nearly the next five minutes I went on entirely about why he deserved much more credit than he was receiving. I talked about how he made me laugh when I needed someone to cheer me up, I preached about the hate he got for practically no reason at all, and even more so, I told everyone about how I had been watching him since he uploaded his first YouTube video. I discussed how it had been an accident, and it was merely just me accidently clicking the wrong thumbnail; how I ultimately became intrigued with his voice, face, and even more importantly… his eyes. Of course, I didn’t talk about his lovely face, his wanderlust eyes, and his beautiful eyes, but I thought of it in my head. I thought of every single little thing that made me want to pull him into a tight hug and tell him that in the end, everything was going to be alright.

Mari, the girl I had met a few days previous at the airport, screamed in the practically dead-silent room of people and leaped up and down excitedly; that including an overenthusiastic Gerard Way wanna-be (Sorry, Georgi. Couldn’t tell the difference.) Her face red with how much she was moving around, and she quickly gained the attention of many people in the room.

“That’s my brother!”

My face fell. I could practically feel it draining of all color and

Hold.

The.

  Fuck.

Up.

I thought her brother was the dude that looked like someone who attempted drag but failed horribly? Did she have two brothers? Was Yuuri her real brother and Gerogi her adoptive one? Ah, fuck. My brain hurts from all of this thinking.

She took account of my facial expression and laughed heartily, “Haha, yeah! In fact, he’s here right now! Somewhere out by the booths, I believe!” Her hair bounced behind her as she talked with enthusiasm.

(I might’ve screeched upon learning such a thing.)

I think I almost fainted at that exact moment.

But I didn’t.

I wanted to get out of that chair to go meet Yuuri.

But I didn’t.

I wanted to run from that room like Usain fucking Bolt and search out the boy that helped me through any fits of depression that I had went through.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I sat there like any other normal panel member, and waited (somewhat) patiently for it to be over. After Chris announced that it was wrapping up, and we said our goodbyes, walked backstage, and got bitched at by the people running the event, I don’t think I had ever ran that fast in my entire life. (I fucking turned into Sonic the Hedgehog.)

I should really try to go to the Olympics, because damn. I got some speed.

You better watch out, Usain Bolt. Because you’ve got some competition now.

Autumn… the beginning of all ends.

Chapter Text

I thought I knew what Yuuri looked like from all of the times I had watched him from behind a screen. I thought I knew what his beauty was entitled too. I mean, that is how I had always seen him- no excluding ways; always 2D and never 3D. I never expected for his skin to be any clearer than it appeared on camera, I never even thought about how his eyes would shine with gleefulness upon observing him first-hand. I never expected for his body to be ethereal as I saw him from across the room where he was standing at a vendor, nervously chatting with the person across from his fidgeting form.

And all that I had thought was exactly the opposite as I had seen him from behind a screen.

His skin wasn’t flawless; it was adorned with the slightest bit of acne on his cheeks. His eyes didn’t glow with the utmost happiness; even from where I was standing I could tell that they were glazed over with lack of sleep and the anxiousness that came with having to meet other people. Yuuri’s shoulders were slouched over from his awkward frame, and even more so due to his sheer uncomfortableness within that very room. Even though he didn’t seem to be in the happiest state, it was rather obvious that he was enjoying himself.

Not that I cared. In my eyes, I had never seen someone that had such beauty. He wasn’t ethereal with his perfection; because in reality, no one was. No one was absolutely perfect because such things anyways were false; something created by Photoshop, pounds of makeup, and dieting that wasn’t healthy for the human body in the least. I could tell that he had the slightest bit of muscle from cardio-related exercises, and even so, he still had a bit of weight to himself. And according to my thoughts at that very moment, and even later that day, I knew he was everything that I could’ve ever imagined for him to be: beautiful, all while being himself.

Practically vibrating with excitement, I slowly made my way over to the Japanese male nervously continuing to chat with the owner of whatever vendor he was standing at. I couldn’t be bothered to look and see what he had been near. Hell, I couldn’t even be bothered to think of anything besides Yuuri at the moment. I was scared, nearly foaming at the mouth, and walking like some Quasimodo-like motherfucker towards the YouTuber I have had an addiction with for a solid year or two. And yet, I wanted to still converse with the male.

I was about thirty feet away from him (Actual Cannibal Shia Labeouf~) when he looked over his shoulder with his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. It was quite obvious that he had realized that someone had been staring at him, and I was lucky enough to not be in his range of sight- and fuck he’s looking directly at me fuck fuck fuck fuck what do I do do I approach him or do I just walk away and pretend like I wasn’t stalking him like some creepy fuck oh god I think he knows who I am because he is giving me that look of recognition oh my god now he’s excusing himself from whoever he was conversing with and now walking in my direction what to do what to do.

Calm your fucking tits, Viktor. Just act cool; act suave- like the guys in those k-dramas your mom used to watch while eating ice cream with a spatula and sobbing.

Long story short, my mother had a nervous breakdown.

He’s seriously like so fucking close now. I can’t even form words. Fuck, I can’t even breathe, at that. He’s staring directly at me, and I know he knows who I am. In an attempt to appear suave, as my inner thoughts put it, I rested my hand against a nearby pole and crossed one leg over the other. Suave? Bitch, I’ll give you suave. I look like mother fucking James Dean over here with my sassiness. There’s no way in hell that Yuuri won’t be able to see how fan-fucking-tastic I look-

As he approached closer and closer, I realized that he wasn’t even looking at me, but at a spot behind my head. Frowning, I leaned on the pole harder and smirked at his now passing figure. Was I really that fucking invisible? What happened to me being over the top –in the words of my mother- and absolutely fucking ridiculous- why is this pole moving?

Oh, because it’s not attached to anything or put into the ground. That explains it.It’s not attached to anything.

“Fuck!” Whoops, where’s the bitch that shoved me out onto the stage so she can give me another lecture for my filthy mouth? Eh, who fucking cares. I’ve got bigger issues on my mind. Like how there’s a fucking giant-ass pole nearly ten feet tall that’s beginning to slowly tilt over until it’s on the verge of falling.

In a desperate attempt, I put all of my body weight into the task of pulling the pole back towards me, grunting and practically dying from the physical activity all-the-while. I really needed to fucking exercise. It’s been a while since I’ve even touched a weight or thought about a treadmill. Like, since January 2nd.

Yes, I was one of those people that lived up to their new year's resolution for only one day. Fuck off and stop judging me. I have no boundaries.

Except for the one you’re going to –most definitely- fucking cross after this pole falls over and crushes a little kid’s head in.

Fuck, I really didn’t need that mental picture as the pole was slowly beginning to lean in the direction of me and not towards the group of toddlers that someone had decided to bring here. Honestly, that’s parenting skills right there. To manage fangirl urges and still take care of an infant; bitch, respect right there. Or maybe it’s bad parenting, because there is obviously no one watching those children and there is a pole that probably weighs over a few hundred pounds that’s dangerously teetering back and forth above the little kid’s heads. This can not be the first time that something like this has occurred either. I’ve seen some weird shit on the news. Ooo, but what if it hasn’t happened before? That could be a trending hashtag too; like #I’mALIttleUnsteadyTakenTooFar, or one of those headlines where it’s just: “Some YouTube guy attempts to court another with his ritual mating dance and fails: killing five children in the process (god damn it Viktor get your shit together.)”Fucking original. Unlike Love on Ice.

That’s a bit morbid.

And somehow I’m completely flopping to mention the pole that I now appear to be hugging from a distance. Forget Tree-huggers, now there’s Pole HuggersTM, bitch.

Aren’t those just called strippers??

Oh Jesus, this thing ways a fuckload.

Not you, Jesus, I promise. You don’t weigh that much, I mean, a bit of dieting is right up your alley and you’re beginning to look like Honey-boo-boo’s mother, but you don’t look that bad.

Please don’t send me to hell. My aunt Barbra probably is there and I really don’t want to have to listen to her preach about her late-husband like she used too. I probably need to become religious now, or I’m absolutely fucked.

After a few minutes of probably the most treacherous moments of my entire life, I eventually bring the dangerously swaying pole to a stop. I pull away from it, practically heaving and sweating like a stuffed pig from the demanding physical requirements that come with having to readjust a fucking marble pillar. And what the fuck is it doing here anyways? It’s just standing in the middle of a giant-ass building with no explanation whatsoever.

I sigh and wipe my brow with the hem of my classy as fuck black, long-sleeved shirt with a v-neck. And people say white people don’t have class. I got my shirt from Walmart, my Yonkers’s jeans (the old lady store; it’s a long explanation) and my ratty-ass converse, and people are still trying to hate on my style. I will fucking drag any bitch that attempts to hate on me and my clothing. I got all of this shit on sale; I ain’t no Kardashian.

“Um,” a weary voice spoke from somewhere around me.God? “Do you need any help with that?” The speaker was definitely male, and a bit nervous to add to that. Thinking of the incident in the future, I would’ve been astonished to see that I didn’t recognize the voice of the literal recreation of Jesus himself at the time, but I guess everyone has their off days- and I bet I didn’t clean out my ears that, morning.

Gurl, hit me up with a Q-tip.

“Nah, I got it under control,” I said in the most manly tone I could manage without sounding like and Elvis wanna-be, “I fixed the problem-“ I paused and nearly hacked out a lung onto the tile floor before me because holy shit it’s Katsuki Yuuri. Standing in front of me. Breathing the same air as me. Practically only two feet away from me.

His face flushed crimson as he recognized who I was, but I was practically in the state as him, “Y-You’re-“

“Katsuki Yuuri!” I finished for him with my own statement. I smiled wildly and felt a sudden urge to pull him into a tight embrace to sate myself upon the fact that he was actually there in person- talking to me. Of course, I did no such thing, as it would’ve been creepy and extremely weird, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t imagine what he would feel like in my embrace.

He looked astonished- and more so, terrified.

“H-How-“

“I love your channel!” The words left my mouth before I could stop them with an invisible cork of my inner self, in which was now currently screaming into my ear: ”What the fuck are you doing, you Russian cunt?! Can’t you see that he’s obviously scared of you knowing who he is? Shut your big, fat mouth before you ruin it! But of course, I never listen to my own –slightly smarter self-conscious- and just continued running my mouth a mile a minute as I talked about how much I loved his videos. Just by his facial expression I could tell that he was uncomfortable.

As soon as I stopped speaking, he practically shrunk back, but offered me a shy smiled in response, along with a small: “Thank you… No one has ever said that before…” He crossed his arms and even though he was trying as hard as possible, couldn’t remove his smile from his face. And I practically gushed over the sight.

It was probably the purest thing I had ever seen. It wasn’t like the smiles that he gave the camera when he was filming on that god awful potato he used. It wasn’t like the supposedly “genuine” smile I had thought it of being before I left from Russia; it was different. Not a bad different, but a change in which was badly needed for both my mind and my eyes (which needed to bear witness to something so beautiful.)

“I also like your videos,” He muttered gingerly but excited all the while. Nervously looking up at me with a hesitant smile, he then continued, “I’ve been a subscriber for about three years now; my sister forced me to watch one of your videos and I guess I liked the content that you create…” He looked down on his feet and tapped his toes against the tiled floor, “You’re kind of what inspired me to start YouTube…”

Oh? What’s that sound? The sound of me screeching within my brain and practically dying? If you guessed that, you’re correct! Here’s your brand new car! Haha, just kidding. This isn’t If the Price is Right. I don’t know what you were expecting.

Instead of talking loud, and overbearing as I had before, I nearly spoke in a hushed whisper and then looked around as if we were exchanging a deep-dark secret before responding with an astonished: “Really?” I couldn’t even begin to grasp at such a thought. I was what inspired him? Me? Of all people?

“Um, yeah…” God, he was so awkward. Not that I cared. He was so adorable, cute, the epitome of every puppy ever (aka, all of the same things) that nothing else seemed to matter in reality. Of course it would later on, but as of now; all I could basically think was: “Fuck yeah.” (Thank God I didn’t actually didn’t say that, because Yuuri would most likely would’ve ditched faster than my ex-boyfriend lasted in bed.)

To myself, It seemed like the perfect moment to quickly spit out the words of: “Collab with me.” It honestly wasn’t even a question; more like a demanding statement than it was a sincere question in which he could back out of with no hard feelings. Once again I ask myself: Bitch, what the fuck is wrong with you?

Yuuri looked quite startled, “What?”

“Let’s collab!” I sounded like a little kid on Christmas, and for just a few seconds, I didn’t feel the Floridian heat that foreshadowed where I was going to go after I died.

Aunt Barbra, I’m sorry for making fun of your horrible k-dramas and hen stealing your mint-chocolate-chip ice cream, okay? Tell Satan that I really didn’t mean it when I made that offensive joke, okay?

“Like, make a video together?” He fiddled with the edge of his navy-blue t-shirt and looked up at me with that god-awful sinful, and yet still innocent, puppy-dog-like gaze that I had never once seen before in my entire life. I practically choked on my saliva as my eyes looked into his own. God, with that type of look he could probably be able to do and get away with practically anything.

I nodded vigorously and looked at him hopefully.

“Sure…?”

It was around midnight when I had finally made my way home from PlayList live. Chris was on the computer skyping his boyfriend when I came in, and I had wasted no time at all in flopping down onto the mattress I had marked as my own by throwing a pink heated blanket over the hotel’s sheets. I had class, fuck off.

“I met him,” I sighed dreamily.

Chris turned away from his laptop and cocked an eyebrow in my direction, obviously not understanding what was meant by that statement. His boyfriend –I forgot his name, it was Jonathan? Maybe? I don’t even know; he was pretty nice so I didn’t have a problem with him- laughed and ran his fingers through his medium length hair. He was currently in Switzerland due to the fact that he wasn’t able to go with us due to some family business at the time. Chris had been sad, but Jonathan(?) Jake and/or Jason was kind enough to agree to Skyping or Facetiming him every single day after Chris got home from the daily Playlist Live-related activities. It was kind of him, and that is also why Jacob received my blessing.

“Who?” Chris turned back to his laptop as if he could care less about what I had said. He had also decided to pull out his phone and scroll through Tumblr; most of which consisted of photos of Chris wearing the glasses he had worn today, and also, a post which seemed to be about how I had stood up for the boy named Andrew and his boyfriend during that day’s panel. Chris obviously had other things he should’ve been attending to besides sitting in a hotel room in a shirt that seriously just said, “Fuck off, I need coffee,” and pink bunny slippers whilst on Tumblr and skyping. Priorities.

I sighed dreamily once again and rolled over, pulling my phone from my back pocket and deciding to check all of my Social Medias before I fell asleep, “Katsuki Yuuri. He was so nice; and even more beautiful in person than I could’ve ever imagined.” I unlocked my phone and went onto Instagram first, almost missing the way Chris screeched and almost fell off his own bed.

“WHAT?!” He completely ditched his boyfriend and stumbled his way over to where I was laying and now on my phone. He pulled my phone from my hand and threw it onto a seat across the room, “WHAT HAPPENED?” He obviously looked nearly as excited I was in the moment of running into Yuuri- which had not entirely been an accident.

“I met him,” I said slowly, trying to soothe the practically vibrating form of Chris before me, “We talked, I asked him if he wanted to collab; he said yes, I got his phone number-“

“YOU GOT HIS NUMBER?!” Jahsjk over on the computer screeched along with his boyfriend and demanded if I had talked to him yet. Of course, I hadn’t yet, so I shook my head, listened to the two of them groan in aggravation, and watched Chris crawl back over to his own in a defeated fashion. After that, Chris talked to Jabba the Hut for nearly two more hours before he eventually fell asleep during the call. In the most aggravated fashion possible, I stomped over (still wearing my nightly avocado mask) and turned it off, not before exchanging a small goodnight to James.

Chapter Text

To be entirely honest, I hate a lot of things- like any other person; I’m picky even though I’d like to not be and hide away from such rumors. Preferably tucked away under my pink, heated blanket and alongside a bottle of Ribena. Or Rum Chata. Or Fireball…. Actually, throw all of those bitches together into a bottle of sprite and we got ourselves one hell of a cocktail. Fuck, I think my mother is starting to rub off on me. And you know what that means? That I’m now becoming a borderline alcoholic.

The other things I hate mostly consist of Friday by Rebecca Black, Sam Pepper, extremely outdated memes, when Dan Howell doesn’t upload in nearly half a year, but most importantly, when I’m startled awake by my bitch-ass neighbor who found it upon themselves to belt out the lyrics to Gunther and the Sunshine Girls at 5 AM. Who was my neighbor, you might ask? I’ll give you a hint. Uncontrollable screaming of: “JJ STYLE!” at the most random of times. Nah, that’s too easy. “Maple leaf bacon eh eh Queen of England hockey puck.” That’s Canadian for: “The man that is still singing, “hey you there, I see you over there” is making me suicidal.”

Is that racist? JJ would’ve said that it was stereotypical… But that’s also coming from the guy that, after I told him to shut up, screamed, “You cannot silence the syrup people!” before running away and singing the lyrics to O’ Canada. Was he having a nervous breakdown like my mother at the time? I don’t know. I couldn’t speak to him for the rest of the time he was visiting –we were doing a collab- because, well, he was too busy being the best Canadian he could ever dream of being. (Hint: “O’ CANADA”)

I wanted to sleep in a bit that day before I had to converse with hundreds of my fans and take photos with them. I was extremely tired from the day before, since Chris kept me up take and all, and I was too busy staring at the screen of my phone where the number I had gotten from Yuuri was displayed in bright letters. Needless to say, I didn’t sleep at all. Besides that, JJ being a fucking perv with his singing skills, and Chris waking me up and immediately triggering me as he yelled, “ya like jazz?” was what ultimately woke me up. One reason better than the rest.

My nightly avocado mask had rubbed off sometime during the night, so I was left looking like a mixture of a failed plastic surgery procedure and the aftermath of giving Shrek a blowjob. Plus, my heated blanket now smelled like literally every salad from California ever and it was probably ruined at that. I was pretty sure that I couldn’t wash it, and like I would actually hand wash something. Like, um, normal lives for basic people? Fuck that. The queen is anything but basic, so fuck off with ya commoner bullshit.

Just kidding. I still shop at the 99 cent store when I’m in the US and I seriously used to have to get out of the car when me and my mother were driving around and push it to the nearest gas station because we’d always drain our gas tank until it was empty and we were outside of city limits. That’s the only reason why I’m fit in the slightest. I seriously eat enough food to be on My 600 Pound Life, 800 pound edition. But I thank my mother. I now have thighs of steel and enough stamina to actually run a 5K without dying. (Like that skill is actually ever going to come into use.)

Chris also had made a huge deal about me hanging his clothes up to dry out on our balcony after he had gone swimming in them like the dumbass that he is. Maybe one of his favorite shirts blew away down into the street below and got ran over by a truck, but I mean, it was obviously his fault for jumping into the pool. How else would he have been able to dry his clothing? There’s a fucking dryer downstairs by the lobby, you idiotic piece of shit.

That’s probably why he woke me up in such a rude fashion this morning. And when I say rude I mean, “Miley what’s good,”2015, in a crowded VMA venue with me watching and instead of taking advantage of a good selfie moment and -instead- publicly calling out JJ after he had said something about me on a talk show and tweeted him: “This bitch had a lot of shit to say about me in the press, Miley what’s good?” Obviously, I am the actual epitome of a trash bag. But enough of me ranting about how much of a bad person I am- let’s get back to how Chris woke me up like the cunt that he is and always will be!

I was sleeping peacefully- just beginning to have the ability to fall back asleep after JJ started singing that god-awful song that my mother, of all people, still sings. I had my heated blanket that was now fucking crusted over with avocado at this point, my ratty-ass shirt I wear to bed because I stopped caring years ago, and my favorite fluffy socks that I wore nearly every single night. That’s when it hit. Like a mother fucking hurricane; a tornado of Chris leaping onto my peaceful body and screeching at the top of his lungs: ”What’s wrong Ronald-Kun? Could it be you’re craving my… McNuggies?” (We have a strange relationship, don’t question it.)

In a fury of me screaming, my arms thrashing, and “Don’t steal the Krispy Kreme in the refrigerator!”, I eventually threw that bitch off and sat up in an abrupt fashion. Chris lay on the floor clutching his stomach and holding a camera, I scoffed, he laughed harder. On our TV, Keeping Up with the Kardashians was playing at nearly full volume; needless to say, it was practically Hell.

“Unbelievable,” I spoke in the whitest voice I was capable of creating before hopping from the bed and walking to the bathroom to shower, ultimately making sure to shake my hips to achieve the true “Kim Kardashian’ look that was supposedly, “all the rage,” to the young whipper-snappers that we’d be seeing again today. God, my mother really is starting to rub off on me. This is starting to become a problem. Soon I’ll be watching k-dramas and sobbing on the couch, buried beneath romance novels and a new fucking heated blanket because mine is now ruined.

Chris continued to snort for a few minutes after my retreat and I pulled out my phone to quickly snap a photo of him laughing on the floor as future blackmail. Next time he tries something I got this photo of him in hysterics Miley what’s good? That’ll make him think before he acts.

“I am so uploading this!”

“Try it and I’ll knee you in the dick!” I ignored any further words from him and began to check my other social media’s for anything that I might’ve missed as I was sleeping. But who am I kidding? They’re my subscribers, of all people. They probably aren’t going to be up until around 3 PM unless they live on the other side of the world. Speaking of the other side of the world, I’m still jet-lagged as fuck from my previous travels, and I can barely stay awake during the day because I slept when I wasn’t supposed to sleep and blah blah blah(ask Chris, I didn’t pay attention to what he had said at the time.)

Since when did you ever pay attention during anything?

I didn’t ask for some weird ass advice or roast-myself challenge, inner thoughts. The door is literally right there, so leave. Leave like my dad and never come back.

Browsing through the internet, I saw only the usual things; memes, triggering Tumblr posts, news on Donald Trump, and my least favorite thing of all… Chris’s Instagram profile. All of his selfies are from the same angle and with the same smile and thumbs-up at the camera. Honestly, I’m pretty sure that he hasn’t even realized that he’s been doing the same position for over 2,000 photos, but that’s not what got my attention, oh, no…it was the small break between two of his nearly parallel selfies where a video that I had never seen was located- and guess what the thumbnail was? Me that very morning.

This is why I don’t trust Swiss people.

I absentmindedly tapped on it with my thumb and pouted. He knew I looked horrible when I was sleeping and yet, he posted a video of me sleeping onto the internet. This was probably going to make me lose my street-rep of being dope as fuck 24/7, because I was three seconds into the Instagram video and I was already drooling and snoring like a fucking lawnmower. Like I actually had any street-rep to begin with. That’s coming form a man that seriously asked himself if bubble-gum flavored weed was a thing. I might as well be a twelve year old.

You sure as hell act like one.

Leave.

Chris held a finger to his lips and turned around the camera with a small chuckle, approaching my unconscious body with the shaky frame of the camera in view. After nearly ten years of YouTube, you’d expect for him to be batter at filming than whatever shitty content this was. Like, damn. “Filmed on camera or potato? 90 percent of people can’t tell the difference.”

He crouched down next to my body and then suddenly, without warning or any ignition that he was going to seemingly “pounce,” he jumped onto my body and screamed the mjost vile thing that I have ever heard onn this planet, and the few words that shake me to my very core: “What’s wrong, Ronald-kun? Could it be you’re craving my… McNuggies?!!” Me, being me, screamed at this and from the frame, the watcher was just barely able to see a mass struggle accompanied by me throwing my hands at the camera and screaming the one thing that’s important to me, because obviously, I thought that the man was a burglar, and not a middle-aged Swiss man that screamed at video games for money.

Don’t steal the Krispy Kreme donuts in the refrigerator!

Honestly, it was a terrifying and traumatizing experience. Most people scream “mama!” when they’re scared, but for me, my mind immediately goes to food- and more importantly, donuts. Fuck off if you thought otherwise. There’s obviously something wrong with you and I need to take you to the doctor’s.

I turned off my phone with a sigh and pinched the bridge of my nose; aggravated, but somewhat intrigued with the way he incorporated both me into the video and somewhat a comedic prank to earn more views. It really was quite ingenious with the way he subtly made it appear as if he was just filming a small quarrel between friends, and in reality it was a cry for subs. I respect the man. He’s got his shit together.

Unlike someone I know.

I will –fucking- go to the doctors right now and have you cut out like a fucking tumor, inner thoughts.

Oh shit.

“What time do we have to leave?” I faintly heard Chris yell form the other room. Hell if I know.

“How the fuck am I supposed to know that shit?!” Without even opening the door to complain at his question further, I turned on the shower and quickly undressed to bathe. Of course I didn’t know the answer to that question. I was ultimately too lazy to do any research on what I was supposed to do during Playlist live or when I was supposed to be there for the daily venues. Chris was the one who knew all things regarding what we were to do on our seeming “vacation.” Like I’d know anything. Like I’d actually spend time researching this stuff.

We were late as fuck. Which wasn’t that big of a surprise when it came to it. We basically lazed around for a few hours until we decided that we had waited long enough. But as it came to it, we were an hour late and the Drake look-alike had been sitting out in his car by the entrance to our hotel; laying on the horn for the entire time. He was pissed- also not a surprise. He said he was going to lose nearly half of his pay check, and I instantly tipped him greatly because it made me feel bad for taking away money that was possibly supporting his family. Drake was pretty damn appreciative.

As we approached the event center, I quickly realized that there was way more people there than the day before. It was practically terrifying; even more so than yesterday. JJ fangirls polluted the streets like some form of cancer and as soon as they saw the vehicle Chris and I were located within, they immediately attacked. They found any way possible inside of the vehicle and screamed in excitement; fingers reaching in through the crack I always left in the window, and banging up against it with tightly bound fists- and even one girl took a poster with JJ’s face on it to my window and hit it against the glass.

Honestly, I was scared for my life.

Drake went all Nicholas Cage on me and Chris again and drove through the backstreets like someone out of Fast and Furious. Apparently Drake was some badass bitch from a Hollywood film, because he was the absolute boss at talking to his daughter on the phone whilst turning like a fucking lunatic through alleyways and then across the free-way like some shit from Grand Theft Auto. Like, this was seriously what his conversations consisted of:

“Hi darling! How’s school?” Violent turn to the left, resulting in me flying into Chris (I wasn’t wearing my seatbelt because there was no way in Hell that I was going to wrinkle my Yeezy sweater) and squishing the Swiss male’s face against the window. He screeched in pain and pushed away from the door.

“Oh, really? How’s mommy doing without me there?” Screeching halt at a stop sign; I practically flew over the cup holsters in the back of the vehicle. Chris smacked his nose into the back of the passenger seat.

“And how’s the puppy doing?” Sudden turn without warning to the right; throwing Chris against my back where I was still practically hanging completely into the front of the vehicle from how I had been thrown about. I groaned and ordered for his to remove himself from my back. “Drake” took it upon himself to turn around and shush me, saying that he was on the ohone.

Bitch, you’re the one that’s throwing me around in the backseat with practically no remorse. Maybe I should be shushing YOU-

Maybe if you actually wore a damned seatbelt this wouldn’t be an issue.

But that’s so basiiiiiiic…

Basic, but at least your dumb ass wouldn’t become roadkill from flying through the windshield; which is actually quite a good estimate.

I don’t need your ass crawling into my thoughts when I should be thinking about what I need to do when I meet a bunch of my fans- so kindly, fuck off. I will give you the hand.

You can’t fucking give me the hand, you dumb ass. I’m literally in your brain-

“We’re here,” Drake said as he slammed his flip phone closed (the dude actually had one of those things still) and opened his car door. We had driven to the back of the building where it was completely barren due to the fact that most of the people attending the event had gone inside, and were probably not around in the slightest. Drake opened up my door and said that we were safe. I sighed in relief. At least it was nothing like yesterday with the media. That was probably one of the scariest things I’ve ever had the opportunity to witness.

I climbed out of the back of the vehicle and stretched my arms over my head. It was calming being in Florida. I mean, the air was warm, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t quiet and relaxing-

“OH MY GOD IT’S CHRIS GIACOMMETTI AND VIKTOR NIKIFOROV!!!” Bitch, you left out Drake.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

“They’ve found us,” Drake cursed as he slammed the door of our car shut, “Get inside!”

I fucking turned into Usain Bolt.

Chapter Text

I couldn’t find Yuuri that day. Was I sad? Very. Me, being my dumb-ass self, thought that he would be in the same spot as I had seen him the previous day. But, unlike me, he probably actually had a life that consisted of friends, parties and such. Yuuri was about the age of a college student, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he flew back home already to attend his classes. Saddening, yes. But it was obviously for the better. That may have not been the reason for his sudden absence, but for whatever reason it may be, it wouldn’t change my feeling towards the situation.

Even though I told myself not to upon numerous occasions, I eventually succumbed to my own conscious and inability to have any self-control, and thus resulting in me texting Yuuri with a question regarding where he was at that very point in time. Of course, there was no response (I honestly hadn’t expected such a thing, wholeheartedly) and my ridiculous mind quickly came to the conclusion that he either hated me, or found me at enough of an intolerable level to decide not to respond. To myself, I thought I was being rather subtle. I hadn’t of even asked anything of him that would’ve caused such a reaction!

To: Yuuri-Sama!
”Heya, Yuuri! You should come back to Playlist Live today and join me on the creator’s panel! Chris said that there was a possibility of another one taking place!”

To: Yuuri-Sama!
”This is Viktor, btw ;3”

To: Yuuri-Sama!”
”We can also collab together afterwards!”

Maybe it was the winking face that was enough to do it for him. Damn it, I knew that was over the top- not that such an act was an abnormal occurrence for me. I was always over-the-top. At least, that’s what my mother described my entire being as, right before sticking her face back into a romance novel and downing a bottle of Vodka in nearly three gulps. I think she got her alcoholic trait from my grandmother. Nana was always carrying a flask around in her bra, whether it be when we were in Church or on a night out. I guess it wasn’t just in origination from her; grandpa was the same way. He was more of the type to carry around a bottle to have ready at a moment’s notice. Sometimes, when he didn’t have pockets, he’d shove it down his pants (usually a small bottle of Shnnaps or whiskey) and when someone would question its appearance, he’d just say that he was happy to see whoever was asking about it.

But mother was more of the classy kind. She’d put her vodka in a clear water bottle and make up an excuse along the lines of: “It’s just water,” or that, “it was important to stay hydrated.” Maybe that’s where my horrible lying skills came from. Even though Chris would deny it whole-heartedly, I’d like to think that it also accumulated form the many years I spent making videos with him and having the ability to pick up on certain traits. Not that such a thing was ever a good thing to carry around.

The night before the current day, Chris had warned me that there was a high possibility of online creators like me and a few I had never met before to be called to another panel. I obviously didn’t know how to look up said information (I was like a middle-aged woman when it came to smart phones and the internet), and I was then left with uncertainty in direction towards what I was supposed to prepare myself for. Now that I was standing in the venue (which was even more polluted with fangirls than before) I knew exactly what I was in for:

One hell of a fuckin’ ride.

Today was my “vlogging day,” or what “Drake” described it as. Basically, all creators attending the event were heavily encouraged to film all that was going to occur on that day in particular. I immediately agreed to the idea, for there was a lot of my subscribers out there that couldn’t afford tickets to Florida- let alone the event itself, and I began filming as soon as I could get my eager little hands on my camera I had left out in Drake’s pimping vehicle event car. (I bet that car was used for hookers because I sWEAR TO GOD there were a few women attempting waving us down on the way in. I bet that’s how he gets his extra money. Driving around hookers. Classy.)

Or, they thought that the vehicle was some form of taxi because that’s as sure as hell what it looks like from a great distance-

Hookers. That’s my only explanation. And why the fuck did I say that I have little hands??? If I set them down on an empty map you could mistake these bitches for Michigan’s upper and lower peninsula, I tell ya. I swear I don’t have Donald Trump hands-

Bitch, don’t you dare try to lie about your tiny hands through self-depreciating humor that is strangely “all-the-rage” in today’s youth. And now you don’t have camera angles to hide your small hands and double chin. Haha, you’re going to be forced into being unedited for three whole days. No more making offensive jokes and then editing them out later.

Fuck. Suicide really is becoming an option at this point.

Please don’t unsubscribe for that joke. Please. My views are already going down enough as it is.

Drake led me and Chris into the same room as before and to our booths- all of which were now surrounded by possibly over a thousand of our fans. Like, I know I’m obsessed with attention. But this is obviously too much for me to handle. Luckily I’m wearing navy blue so my disgusting sweat won’t be visible through the fabric. Actually- let that queen be visible. Do you even know How much people will pay for that shit on eBay? Sign me the fuck up. This is a whole new idea for a marketing strategy. Beauty gurus sell merch; I sell bottled sweat.

No one wants that. Like: Justin Bieber? Would sellout in seconds. A member from that one gay YouTube channel that broke up? (Y’all know who I’m talking about.) Milliseconds. Me? One bottle. And that’d be from my mom thinking it was a type of perfume or something of that sort.

I wish that wasn’t true.

The booth was just a I had left it the day before, It was still covered in a few of my fan’s glorious artwork, along with the shitty, plastic prop-up table and chair that was extremely pathetic in the eyes of all. Their artwork really brightened up the horrible-looking tarp and supplies that the workers of the place had provided me with. Also, today there was a lonesome trashcan near my booth that hadn’t been their the previous day. Bitch, I got a glow-up. All but few of the attenders didn’t take the time to pose by it and say take selfies saying: “Wow! I met Viktor Nikiforov today!” Because –don’t even try to lie- I saw those Instagram posts on the way in, and damn were they an accurate representation of everything that made up myself. Plus, the Yeezy sweater I was wearing looked -straight up- like a garbage bag. I was still working it though.

Drake directed me to my booth and quickly briefed over what I was supposed to do for that day in particular. I had honeslty thought that there were practically no precautions left for me to follow after that woman from the panel-crew a few days ago gave me an encyclopedia-length list of everything I was to do and not to do. During all of that time, I could’ve watched an episode of Sherlock, but no this girl had to come along and ruin my day- better yet, my life.

You are seriously like guacamole at Chipotle: extra as fuck.

“I love you, Viktor!” A boy possibly just a few years younger than me screeched from the back of the crowd. He seriously looked like he was about to burst out into uncontrollable sobs at any moment from the mixture of emotions he was emitting. He raised his phone into the air and over the crown directlyt at me; hand thrown over his mouth the possibly contain whatever was going to be released if it were to be missing.

Sarcastically, I yelled back: “I love you too!” In a high, pitchy voice with just a bit of a smoker voice. So basically, my mother.

Everyone screamed. A few people that had gathered around my booth yelled something about getting that shit on camera, and I practically fell over at the pure power that was contained within their screeches. It was probably equivalent to the sound of a jet engine taking off right next to your ear. Meaning, it’d probably kill ya if you got to close to it- or blow out your eardrums. Whatever decided to come first.

I sat down at my plastic table and sighed heavily. I was already tired and the day had barely even started. All but few of my fans immediately jumped into a line to get photos with me with the fucking amazing backdrop from the day before. Never in my entire life had I ever been so proud of something in my entire life. I was a fucking genius, honestly.

Instead of Drake deciding to stay and play his part as a bodyguard, he left without warning and helped out Chris at his own booth was all of the way across the venue. That bitch.,. I am so more important that that Swiss piece of trash. I have 10 million more subscribers than that whore. But I didn’t complain with it (that much) and was completely fine with it (not really). It’s not like I was possibly scared that some crazy-ass motherfucker would fly at me like an angry squirrel.

Today was very much so unlike yesterday. I brought my wireless phone charger, a fan and my 100 ft long extension car so I could plug it into the wall completely across the room by Joey Graceffa’s booth. I was most likely going to get a few strange looks as I strung the power-chord across the seeming “alleyway” between the two lines of booths. Did I care in the least? No. A man’s gotta do, what a man’s gotta do. I also didn’t want to hug my subscribers and have them practically reel back in disgust from my sweaty self. (Some of those creepy fucks would probably bottle that shit, as well.)

I had to borrow Chris’s Totoro bag to pack all of my stuff. But as I was a complete piece of trash with no life whatsoever, I was proud to walk around like a 12 year old girl in Hot Topic. Actually, I could see some twelve-year-old looking girls eyeing my bag as if they were going to steal it or hide it under their shirts. (Not that I could blame them for it all that much, this bag is gorgeous as fuck. And fangirl urges are difficult af to deal with.)

I stood up after a few moments of rest and urged for the first person to walk forwards and onto the tarp where I was standing. He smiled like an absolute idiot and warily approached me; awkwardly standing as if he wasn’t allowed to hug me. I smiled back at him and decided to be the first one to initiate a hug by wrapping my arms around his shoulders. He was probably around the age of 17, just a few years younger than me. He was wearing black skinny jeans and a white Panic! at the Disco shirt as a top, which immediately drew my attention for wearing clothing with my favorite band plastered across the front. Not only that, but he was also dressed in galaxy Converse. Fucking slay me.

That’s style right there, honestly speaking. The guy was probably the next top model.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” He said behind an unwavering smile. Obviously nervous, he looked down at his feet and whispered something amongst the lines of: “May I get a photo with you!” His eyes met mine with a bit of uncertainty behind his irises. Naturally, I was a bit taken back as to why he would ask such a thing (that is what the line was for anyways) but I chalked up his question to attempting to be polite.

I nodded exuberantly and nearly cried at how precious his reaction was. His face lit up like a little kid’s on Christmas and he scrambled to pull his phone from his back pocket. We quickly took a few photos together, I got his name, and it was then onto the next person. And that’s how my day went on; person after person, fangirl after fangirl, confused dad after confused dad, and fangasm after fangasm all until my line was nearly empty and it was becoming late.(And me like, spending nearly thirty minutes laying out my power chord across the room and having nearly a hundred of my fans videoing it). Apparently, there was no panel that I had to be nearly freaking out over for a good fraction of today.

My nervousness didn’t just originate from the possibility of their being another panel and having to be in front of my fans for nearly an hour, but it just so happened to include a slight chance that I would once again run into Yuuri like I had yesterday- and I don’t think I’d be able to handle the emotional stress that came with such an encounter. My blood pressure is still shook.

As the last person in my line said their farewells and left to join whoever was waiting for them, I plopped down into my shitty chair and threw an arm over my eyes. I was so fucking tired that I could barely even stand at this point. I had no idea when Chris was going to come pick me up, and from the looks of things, I could just barely tell that he was still pretty occupied with his subscribers on the other side of the venue. He literally had a line twice the size of mine when it had been at its largest. Someone needs to tell that bitch to hurry the fuck up. I was ready to go home and sleep for 10 days straight

My head felt like someone hit it with a sledgehammer. I need drugs. Preferably a handful of ibuprofen or Motrin. The night-time shit that’s strong as fuck. Girl, hit me up. Miss me with that weak shit.

I fell asleep sometime around 8:30. I had been constantly trying to keep myself from sleeping in the middle of a venue- and I could’ve possibly been kidnapped (I’m not that important), but my attempts were futile at that point. Especially when considering as soon as I propped up my feet next to the table where it was completely covered in boxes from my fans (I am that important) I drifted off. In fact, I didn’t wake until someone shook my shoulder to rouse me from my deep sleep.

Someone? Sorry, autocorrect. I mean the literal reincarnation of Japanese Jesus.

I was sleeping peacefully; snoring like a chainsaw and drooling like Makkachin, when someone tapped my shoulder lightly and said that the event was going to close soon. At first, I didn’t wake up. I continued to sleep like a baby without any realization that my queen was attempting to warn me before the giant swirling tornado of Chris comes to collect me to leave. Along with Drake. And holy fuck, that tornado can break down literally everything. Like the wall Trump wants to build on the Mexican border.

Fuck, if that actually becomes a thing I will fucking jump over that wall. Like, Derrick Adkins who?????

“Um, Viktor? The venue is about to close?”

How does this bitch know my name? More importantly, why do I recognize this god-like voice and that fucking gorgeous accent?

I groaned and slowly sat up, resting my hand against my burning forehead in hopes of slightly easing my headache. It was like someone was playing the fucking drums in my ear canal. Josh Dun where you at.

I peeled open my eyes, and at that very moment. I wanted to die. Straight up, run a sword through my stomach and let me bleed out on the floor. There I was, practically looking like some hoe straight out of the Walking Dead, and Yuuri was leaning over where my body had been half laying previously looking like the male version of Aphrodite. This is really bad for my blood pressure.

My heart is still SHOOK.

My mouth automatically opened to spew some bullshit about him not answering my text message, or to ask what he was doing at the venue at such a late time- especially when it was about to close, but the only thing that escaped my mouth was a noise similar to a turtle having sex with a shoe.

Yuuri smiled lightly at my reaction and stood up fully, looking extremely unabashed from his previous position, “Sorry, I just heard that they were about to kick everyone out for the night, so I wanted to give you a bit of forewarning and all….” He rubbed the back of his neck and stepped away a few feet, “I should probably get going-“

“No no no!” I suddenly yelled, surprising myself and any other stragglers that were still walking around the booths. I knew I sounded like an idiot, but I couldn’t stop speaking. Whenever I was around Yuuri, my mouth just couldn’t stop running a mile a minute without a cork to stop the insufferable things spewing from my mouth. Why was I telling him to stop? What was I going to say now to further embarrass myself? Hopefully nothing too overbearing or vulgar. The last thing I need is my ostentatious voice fucking things up for me.

“If you don’t have anywhere to be, we could… go out to get some pizza and a drink with Chris after he gets done?” I need to learn how to shut my mouth. God, I sounded so desperate and cringey. If this was literally anyone saying this to me, I would tell them to fuck off faster than PewDiePie’s view count dropped last year. “You could tag along with us…

Yuuri looked completely taken back by my bold statement, “What…? No, I couldn’t…” He blushed insanely and looked down at his feet; hair covering his eyes ad only allowing the slightest bit of his crimson face to be shown. He sounded so modest, oh my god his voice is so adorable when he’s embarrassed. I could listen to it for hours on-end.

“I also barely even know you,” he glanced up at me from behind his adorable, black, thickly-framed glasses. “Plus Mari is probably wanting me to head back to the hotel. She’s expecting me-“

“Hey, Viktor! Let’s go get some food from the pizza place down the street!”

I know that voice.

“Oh, hey Yuuri!”

Wha- He doesn’t even know you, you Swiss piece of shit! Stop talking to him so casually.

“Do you want to come with us?”

Chris, you slick motherfucking cunt. I knew you were listening!

Chapter Text

After nearly an entire hour of me and Chris fighting over where we were to eat for that evening, we eventually came to compromise that consisted of a sports bar a few blocks away from the venue called Leo’s. Chris has been to the US many times in the past and he said that they had practically the best pizza in North America. I begged to differ –obviously having proof consisting of reviews on google- and stated that the bar 15 miles from us had the best reviews: 4.7/5.0. Chris won out ultimately because Yuuri said that he had never been to a sports bar in his entire life. Apparently they didn’t have such things in Japan. I automatically allowed Yuuri’s input to be the final decision of that night’s meal in order to please both him and my hurricane of a friend.

I didn’t expect for the sports bar to be completely full to the brim with angry bikers and people that have most likely been to jail more than a few times, along with people that definitely fit under the stoner category. Basically the whole room was nearly the complete opposing force of my personality; and yet, Chris looked completely at ease. It was aggravating. While I awkwardly slid my way into a barstool whilst trying to not accidently bump the scary bald dude sitting next to me, Chris hopped up onto his, slammed his fist down onto the counter, and ordered his usual. He even respectfully nodded to a few people inside of the bar, and greeted the bartender like they had been great friends for years (in which they had.) I wanted to slap him for acting so casual.

Yuuri was even worse off than I was. Upon entering, he ran into a giant man in a leather jacket and was nearly pummeled before he even made it past the entryway. I apologized for him quickly and motioned him to move forwards before the same man decided his fist would look nice against Yuuri’s jaw. Yuuri then tripped over his shoe laces and practically flew into me; knocking me off balance and thus allowing me the ability to collide with the exiting figure of the giant buff guy. He spun around and raised his fist with obvious intentions; “You tryin’ to start a fight, mate?”

He had a British accent that made him sound like a five-year-old little kid. Upon any other circumstances, I would’ve laughed at such a large man having such a small voice, but I knew ultimately that it would be of my best interests to remain silent. I wasn’t going to risk the possibility of my face being ruined for the rest of my life. My nose was too important to me. I also didn’t want to die today in particular.>

We then sat at the counter and made ourselves to appear as small as humanly possible. I thankfully god to sit next to Yuuri and not Chris, he probably knew that I was internally praying for me to be able to sit next to Japanese Jesus. I may not be religious but damn, Yuuri sure was turning me into somewhat of a Christian.

Three hours ago, you made a joke about the Holocaust; along with one about how much of a trustworthy sight 4chan is.

Somewhat of a Christian.

“What can I get ya?” The bartender asked me as he rubbed down a scotch glass for another customer. He tossed the rag he recently used over his shoulder and looked at me expectantly, eyes slowly trailing over to the nervous looking body of Yuuri, and then back to me. I was too nervous to even begin to dream up a reasonable drink that wouldn’t kill me in the end, but me, being the absolutely fucking idiot that I was, I responded –without any hesitation whatsoever-: “Spirytus, if you have it.”

You dumb motherfucker. That’s Polish vodka: 96% percent alcohol. You’re going to die tonight. One sip and they’ll have to ship you back home to Russia on a gurney.

The bartender raised an eyebrow but didn’t question my order. He just shook his head like he knew that I was a dumb piece of shit- and was practically asking for suicide to hit me up on Grindr or Farmersonly.com. “And for you?” He turned around after asking Yuuri such a question, and pulled a bottle of Spirytus Polish Vodka 192 Proof from the very back of the shelf behind the other frequently drank ones.

“Um, I’ll have what he’s having.”

Oh god.

Oh no.

He doesn’t know.

He’s much to innocent.

RIP Katsuki Yuuri, 2K17.

“And we’ll have a large meat-lover’s pizza as well, John.” Chris intervened whilst throwing and arm over the back of Yuuri’s chair. He apparently hadn’t seen what he had also ordered due to my incapability for not being able to shut my mouth or come up with some kind of sugary drink. Obviously, that’s what I would’ve ordered; like a Slippery Nipple or Sex on the Beach instead of practically drinking medical supplies.

Suddenly, Chris froze. He turned towards the male sitting next to me with a fearful look in his eyes and then swallowed thickly, “Yuuri… you’re old enough to drink alcohol, right?” Chris looked straight-up terrified; like when we had played Resident Evil 7 for the first time together in a video, and some crazy-ass mofo butt raped us from behind when we were trying to walk up a staircase in the game. He literally screamed so loud, that my neighbors in the apartment building across the road from me called the police saying that they thought someone was getting murdered.

John poured the drinks for us in quite the quick fashion and slid them over to me and Yuuri, giving us a slightly hesitant stare that screamed: ”I’m seriously a bystander to a suicide, oh my god. He just sighed to himself and walked away to attend to some other people. Unfortunatly for Chris, he would not be able to drink tonight because he was our designated driver. Drake gave up on trying to drive us around for the evening and headed home- leaving the vehicle for us to use.

Bad idea. No, possibly the worst idea possible for a mind to conjure up.

I was the first to accept my fate by picking up the glass and swirling its contents around slowly; hesitantly. At this point, I was just trying to buy myself some time. There was so much I wanted to do with my life before I died, but alas, here I was; on the doorstep of an unavoidable death. I was seriously going to be the first person in the entire world to die from one sip of an alcoholic beverage. Actually, there were a lot of idiots out in the world that would also do such a thing without thinking of the consequences in a reasonable manner.

Yuuri held up the glass before his eyes with a shaky hand and looked at me quizzically. He most likely didn’t know why I was so scared to take the first sip. I was the one who had decided to order this Satan juice- not him. There fourth, I needed to be the one to drink it first.

I can already feel my liver nope-ing the fuck out and shriveling into the size of a dry Orbee.

Welp, here goes nothing.

My lips connected with the cool glass of the cup and I sipped the tiniest amount that could still be considered under the act of drinking- and holy fuck is this what swallowing fire feels like. If I didn’t get this shit put of my mouth immediately, my entire body would be changed into a bottle of antiseptic before I knew it.

As discretely as I found humanly possible, I slowly opened my mouth and allowed the alcohol to dribble back into the glass. I didn’t care if it was unsanitary. That shit was no possible to drink without dying- and I wanted to live until I reached 30 at least. Death was not an option yet. But oh poor Yuuri. He clearly didn’t understand my obvious distress and followed my own actions with a giant fucking gulp of this Satan milk.

Who can say where the road goes…

Where the day has gone…

Splat.

Please don’t let that noise be Yuuri’s liver leaping from his mouth.

Luckily, it wasn’t. It was just him spitting it out of his mouth and onto the countertop before him. (Not that such a thing was any better in the end.) A few people around us gave the male a strange look, but quickly went back to whatever they had been doing. Chris, however, seemed to know what had occurred, and pulled the glasses from both me and Yuuri’s hands before any more damage could occur.

“Spirytus Polish vodka?” He asked with a small chuckle. I nodded shamefully and grabbed the drink that Chris had ordered only to down it within an instant. His was some kind of fruity cocktail that probably had a shameful, meaning to be somewhat erotic name. I was guessing the name had something to do with boobs. They always did. It was honestly becoming somewhat on an issue.

Yuuri furrowed his eyebrows together, his face filling with the slightest bit of what could only be described as the most adorable pout on the face of the Earth, “If you don’t like it, why did you order it?” He obviously was confused regarding my actions, but I wasn’t going to give him the honest answer. There was no way in hell that I was going to tell him that it was because I don’t think before I speak.

“I used to like it when I was in my teen years.”

Chris snorted but muted it with the mouth of his bottle of beer that he had also bought for his beverage choice of that evening. Dude, I thought you were our designated driver.

Yuuri looked astonished, “Really? But it’s so strong!”

“I’m Russian, we handle our alcohol well.”

“Liar,” Chris muttered under his breath through a small coughing session. I glared at him from the corner of my eye. If he told Yuuri that I was lying, I would tell everyone on twitter about the thing I saw him doing to that Big Mac. I have blackmail material. He can’t do shit.

“Wow! You must’ve been a cool teenager!” The way Yuuri’s eyes lit up was more than enough to leave me unable to speak for what seemed like over an entire hour rather than just a few seconds.

My lips stretched into an uncertain smile, “I’d like to think so.”

Chris covered a chuckle with the mouth of his beer once again and stared at me from where he was sitting as Yuuri was facing in the direction. I could already tell what he was thinking towards me in that exact moment, but he brought it upon himself to then mouth out: You fucking liar.” He took a giant gulp of his beer and shook his head, looking forwards once again as soon as the bartender walked back towards us with our pizza.

Yuuri ditched our conversation nearly instantaneously as John set the pizza onto a platter on the countertop before us. I was a bit heartbroken that he left our conversation that quickly for a meat lovers pizza- but could I honestly blame him? Um, it was a meat lovers pizza. That shit was something that was on the top of my priorities list. Yuuri was up there as well, but fuck. Pizza was something that I held dear to my heart. Nearly everything else can go fuck off. Except for Makkachin. Makkachin was chill.

“Bitch, I get the first slice,” Chris interrupted quickly and pulled the tray over to his side; completely ignoring the way Yuuri had been reaching to pick up a slice. I seriously went fully Ricky Dillon mode- I mean, straight up, hand thrown over chest, mouth agape, and gasping as loudly as I found humanly possible. But that little hoe ignored me.

“Rude,” (insert Shane Dawson mouth pop.)

Fight me, bitch,” he lifted a slice from the tray and bit into it slowly, “You can have the last slice, Viktor. Since you decided to be all sassy.”

“We all know I’m going to end up paying for it,” I interrupted, smacking my hand down on the edge of the tray and sliding it back towards mine and Yuuri’s direction. The Japanese male was hesitant, but he still grabbed himself his own piece and began to eat wearily. Honestly, he was probably just scared that Chris was going to attempt to steal his pizza slice. I followed his action and rolled my eyes as Chris continued to bitch at me for whatever he found “bitchable” on that day in particular.

“Hey, John!” Chris raised a hand and waved over the bartender, “Get us a few rounds of shots!”

“So Vik, who did you lose your virginity to?” Chris slammed down the bottle of beer he had drank and picked up another, adding to his collection of probably four bottles. By now, both of us were drunk; Yuuri was questionable. His face was the slightest bit flushed, but he wasn’t as “woozie” as I was at the given time. The floor beneath my feet was bending, warping and snapping back into place like some bitch out of Star Trek. How was I even staying conscious?

I laughed like a god damn imbecile, “Oh my god holy fuck I think I like half lost it too a girl when I was fifteen.” John slid another round of shots in front of us and raised an eyebrow at me. Thank Jesus he didn’t question what I had just said. Everyone here probably hated the average “gay” lifestyle.

“What the fuck do you mean half?!?” He slammed both of his hands flatly onto the wooden counter-top and practically wheezed. Yuuri just looked plain uncomfortable.

My mouth emitted the most unattractive snort known to man, and I then set my empty shot glass down. This was probably going to be my lowest moment; especially since Chris pulled out his camera from his sweater pocket and began filming. Poor Yuuri, he was attempting to avoid the camera but drunk Chris was nearly shoving the lens down into his face and up his nose.

“Okay, okay,” I laughed like an idiot and snorted a few times for good measure, “I was in high school and I was dating this girl- let’s say that bitches name was Sharkeisha- and we had been in a semi-normal relationship for a few years. I think it had been like two”-giant as gulp of the beer Chris had been drinking (I ripped it form his hands)-“and we decided to hand out after school for some homework shit Ii don’t know.

“Then we like sat on the couch and were watching like Bill Nye or some shit, and she like fucking shoved me down and was trying to make out with me. Straight up, like: tongue down my throat and basically suffocating me. She was acting like my tongue was one of those long-ass popsicles when there was only juice in the bottom of the plastic tube. But not the good popsicles; these are the ones you buy from Walmart when they’re still all liquidly and they’re in some shit like a fish net. These were the bitches that cut up the sides of your mouth because they’re all a bunch of whores.

“So yeah, we were making out. Sharkeisha was like, really into it as well- even though I was just like, sitting there uncomfortably. I wasn’t even kissing her back, and she was still getting all lit about it. That morning, she had even texted me saying “let’s do this thing,” like it was some kind of action movie or some bullshit, I don’t care. I couldn’t even tell if she was trying to be hot, or attempting to sound like Liam Neeson in the Taken trilogy. But that bitch wasn’t stealing shit because there was no way she was getting this little gay heart.” You better believe that my hands were flying around like some crazy motherfuckers.

“And then –this shit doesn’t end here- and then she tried to take off my shirt and I asked her like “um, what are you doing?” and Sharkeisha went all, “catch me inside that shirt, how bout dah,” and continued without my consent, mind you, and then I like kind of tried to push her away from me after she tried to shove her grimy ass hands down my pants so. That’s that.” I set down my bottle of beer and attempted to not ask Chris the same question to embarrass him just as much.

Suddenly, Chris changed this entire small get-together into a Q&A.

This video was surely going to be an interesting one.

Chapter Text

Oh god, this is why I don’t drink.

Even before I decided to fucking sit up in bed, I already knew that my entire body was aching for whatever reason. My head was pounding like a child playing the bongo drums within my very conscious, and my eyelids ached to be unopened. I felt as if I was on a boat rocking back and forth on the high seas- and the worst part was that I was seasick. And I hated boats. Boats can go fuck themselves for all I care. But I wasn’t on a boat; supposedly, I was in my very own bed at my own hotel. I knew such a thing because I could smell Chris’ gay-ass candles he brought to America, and made us practically miss our flight here because of all of the security we had to go through for them to check each and every individual candle.

I groaned in pain and rolled away from the light streaming in through the window sitting parallel from me. I wanted to be in complete and utter solitude. The traffic from outside was practically deafening even though it was just the slightest buzz of noise; Chris’s snores were more than enough to make me want to slam a pillow over my head, and Yuuri’s light humming was surprisingly soothing- wait what the absolute fuck was Yuuri still doing here?

My eyes slowly peeled themselves open and they soon south out the hunched over form of Yuuri, where he was sitting at the foot of my bed looking through his phone. As if he had some kind of sensor to know when someone was looking at him, he turned around and offered me a small smile. Through the hazy morning light of May, he looked absolutely breathtaking. His hair was a bit messed-up from sleep, and was sticking up in nearly every direction- which was surprisingly attractive. He didn’t have his glasses on -not a very familiar sight- and it allowed his eyes to be viewed with their full spectrum of colors and loveliness. Needless to say, I was practically left unable to speak as our gazes connected witheachother.

“How’re you feeling?” He whispered, being mindful of the sleeping form of Chris just a few feet away (who was cradling a bottle of orange juice as if it was a baby). Yuuri turned off his phone and stood up without any explanation. Tiptoeing quickly through things thrown across the floor (presumably mindful of Chris), the Japanese male swiftly made his way into the small bit of area reserved for “kitchen-like” purposes. From how he was getting out a glass and filling it with water in the sink, I concluded for him to be getting me some water so I would be able to sober up quicker.

“Fine,” I croaked out as I slowly sat up. After a long symphony of numerous joints cracking back into place and probably the most unattractive yawn in the history of mankind (whale mating calls or Viktor Nikiforov yawning? Scientists can’t tell the difference) I stood up and rubbed at my aching head. Yuuri handed me the glass and I downed the entire thing without hesitation. Today was our last day at PlayList Live and I wanted to make sure that I was entirely well-headed for the remainder of today. Also, the last thing I wanted to do was barf onto one of my friends.

“Chris uploaded a video of you at the bar last night while he was still drunk,” Yuuri stated entirely out of the blue. I cocked an eyebrow at him and set down the now empty glass on my nightstand.

“Did I say anything… Bad?”

Judging by his silence, I already knew what the answer was.

“Damn it,” I sighed angrily. I knew better than to drink out with Chirs from the things he tended to pull on the daily, and yet, It seems as if I still haven’t learned my lesson. Walking over the window and shucking open the curtains to rouse Chris from his slumber, I quickly groaned out: “C’mon, give it to me straight.”

“W-What?”

“What did I say?” Even though my back was facing Yuuri, I could tell that he was averting his gaze form me to tend to something other than my never-ending needs. A groan filtered its way from Chris’s mouth and a dull thud echoed throughout our hotel room (Chirs fell off the bed), “or more importantly, what did I do? Please tell me I didn’t give a fifty-year-old woman named Shelly a lap-dance; telling her that it was for her, “Senior discount.”

“Huh?”

I turned around, “long story, ten shots of tequila, aunt’s wedding, moving on.”

“Oh,” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and grabbed his glasses from where they had been sat on a small table near the hotel room’s TV, “Well… You and Chris vlogged for most of the entire night; telling “first time” stories and forcing me to take photos of you two laying across the bar- you might want to check your Instagram before everyone that isn’t living under a rock finds them.”

I wanted to scream, “Uh, okay…. What else?”

Yuuri wiped off his glasses with the end of his shirt and slid them on fluidly, “You stripped. I had a hard time forcing you to keep your clothes on. You’re also the reason why we were kicked out of the bar in the first place. Apparently they didn’t appreeeciate the act of public nudity as much as you believed.”

I want to curl up under a bed and die- better yet, jump in front of a train and let Jesus take the fucking wheel because I don’t think I will ever be able to recover-

“You also said a lot of things that I’d rather not repeat…” His face filled with a heavy-set blush, “And you also came out to all of your subscribers on a live stream- not before also talking about how you almost lost your virginity to a girl-“

“I’m not gay!” I quickly interjected, feeling the color drain form my face almost immediately. I said that on a live stream?! What does everyone think now? What if my channel gets removed because of that-?! “That’s just always something I’ve supposedly said whenever I’m drunk… haha,” I awkwardly laughed and adverted my gaze from the Japanese male, “I’m guessing I either declared my love for Evan Peters, or said that I’d suck Brendon Urie’s dick with no hesitation whatsoever?” Please tell me I said the first… It’d be easier to explain without context because literally everyone loves Evan Peters-

“Hmm, mostly a combination of the two. You also said something about Neil Patrick Harris but your words were too slurred for me to understand.”

Wow, Viktor. Great job with your first few impressions with Katsuki Yuuri. I bet he thinks you’re some closeted, sleaze now… Or even worse; the epitome of every single woman that is on The Bachelor and is cut within the first few episodes.

Um, excuse me. I’m way more attractive than practically all of those girls.

That’s debatable.

Yuuri looked down at the floor; suddenly looking quite embarrassed, “I’m sorry for staying the night in your hotel room. Chris wouldn’t let me leave and you practically threw your body over the door… so…” He shuffled his feet awkwardly and glanced up momentarily for his gaze to connect with my own, “I’m sorry if that inconvenienced you in any way. I also was kind of worried that you two were going to not be able to wake up and make it to the event on time because you didn’t get much sleep last night.

“I made you and Chris a pot of tea- it’s on the stove,” He jabbed a thumb in the direction of the shitty cooking area the hotel provided, “That should be enough to soothe your stomachs for a few hours today. I looked around in the gift store downstairs and found some ibuprofen for the headache that will most likely come with your hangover” -Oh god- “Just make sure you eat something before you take any- it could give you an upset stomach” -He’s like a housewife- “And some guy named David came around a few hours ago to remind you two not to be late again. He smelled like bubblegum.”

Marry me.

“Oh yeah, that’s just Drake.”

“Huh?”

“He’s our like, Security guard for the time that we’re going to be in Florida. I think he’s just worried that some crazy fan will sneak into our room or something during the night. He’s pretty chill- even though he looks like he’s from a five-dollar production version of “Hotline Bling.”

Yuuri only nodded, “He did resembled Drake in the slightest…”

And here’s where the awkward silence comes into play.

Cue cricket chirping.

CHIRP.

GOD, WHAT THE FUCK.

I screamed at the sudden noise of a bug near me and shied away from the sound. There was only one god-forsaken bug that made such an evil noise… the bug that haunted me throughout my entire childhood… The insect that kept me awake for nights-on-end due to its devilish ways of leaping through my window and deciding to stare at me as I cowered in fear… a cricket. But not just any cricket… Thee cricket. I’d remember those black, unholy eyes form anywhere.

Cowering behind the form of Yuuri –who appeared even more shocked than I had been- I peeked over the male’s shoulder and allowed my lip to curl upwards in a small sneer. I knew that the stupid insect knew who I was… and I knew him all too well. I’m surprised the little gremlin had even escaped my constant pummeling of rolled-up newspapers throughout most of my life- but the bitch always came back for more. Oh, and was I gonna give it to the little fucker.

“So, we meet again,” I snarled, making Yuuri freeze in absolute fear as I eyed the bug down like something out of an old western movie. I was the sheriff, he was the outlaw, and there was gonna be one hell of a shoot-out. It’s as simple as that, “You followed me half-way around the globe, didn’t ya? You’re just begging for a fight.”

The insect chirped in response.

“Um, Viktor…?” Yuuri asked confused, leaning his head back to whisper to me: “What are you doing?”

I held a finger to his lips and he instantly ceased all movement, “Don’t make a sound. He can smell fear. He is the walking reincarnation of Satan himself; the unholiest of unholy.” The cricket slowly scuttled over to the TV remote were it was perched on the nightstand and inspected it with pure curiosity, “Do not be fooled my its seeming “innocence.” That’s when he strikes.” A small chirp echoed throughout the hotel room.

“Oh god, not this again,” Chris groaned, throwing a pillow over his ears to block out my words.

“It’s been 84 years,” I spoke in a weathered, haggard tone, slipping out from behind Yuuri and making my way to where Chris had set a fashion magazine down a few days previous on the island counter-top.

“You aren’t even that old, Viktor,” Chris spat, tightening his grip on the pillows covering both of his ears, “Your grandma isn’t even that old.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault she liked to get frisky at a young age.”

Yuuri’s eyebrows furrowed together; him being obviously confused, “Can someone explain to me what exactly is going on?”

Chris gave up on trying to cover up the voices with his pillows and sat up, shielding his eyes from the light of Jesus streaming through the window and attempting to blind him, “Viktor has himself convinced that every cricket he sees is the one from his childhood that jumped into his window -ONCE- and leaped onto his arm while he was sleeping.” Chris rolled his eyes at the mere recollection of the many times I had told the story, “Apparently, It scared him so much at the time that it still haunts him to this day. Most people deal with PTSD or anxiety; for Viktor, It’s crickets.”

“He killed my ma,” I slowly grabbed the magazine and rolled it up to turn it into a weapon, “I’ll make him pay for what he did.’

“Your mother is still alive.”

“Yes, forever living on in our hearts.”

“For fucks sake,” Chris shook his head and just waved his hand in dismissal at Yuuri, “You might as well leave now; this is gonna be a shit-show before we all know it.”

How dare he be so inconsiderate.

The cricket’s black, beady eyes stared at me; unmoving. As if to say, ”Yeah, that’s right, bitch. You can’t do shit. You’re too scared to try anything because you know that I will always have power over you.”

“Look at me straight in the eye,” I started, talking to Chris but having my eyes fully trained on the demon before me, “And tell me that those eyes aren’t the windows to Hell itself. I mean look at him! He looks as if he wants to squash me alive!” I held the magazine over my head as I approached the spawn of Satan.

“That’s probably just your own reflection.”

“Yeah, as if my reflection as a hideous, bloodthirsty monster!”

“Well, you have the hideous part down-“

I dropped my arms and rolled my neck back, groaning at the ceiling as if I was a spoiled rotten five-year-old kid, “Chriiiiiis, can you like, not for five seconds? I’m really close to killing my arch nemesis here, and you’re totally raining on my parade- a lot. It’s your job as my friend,” I coughed, “andloyalservant to be accepting of my own opinions and you are triggering me right now with how rude you’re being. You need to learn how to be respecting of others.”

Chris raised his arms in defense and motioned for me to continue onwards towards the insect before me, “Whatever, have at it.” He really did sound triggered.

And you didn’t? Fuckin’ Tumblr girl.

Try me, bitch.

With my final glance of the cricket that had haunted me throughout my life being it standing next to a remote control, I brought down the fashion magazine with as much force as possible onto the cricket.

“You chirped your final chirps.’

“That’s so not vegan.”

Yuuri looked horrified- not for the bug, but for my metal state.

I lifted the rolled up magazine to fully accept my victory over the little stalker; to bask in the glory of ridding the world of evil- when I suddenly realized, that there was no bug under the rolled up magazine or on the table, or next to the remote.

My blood ran cold.

”That means…”

CHIRP CHIRP.

ARE YOU FUCKING KI-

Chapter Text

“We have a fucking golf cart.”

Chris cocked an eyebrow at me, “Um… Yeah? We’ve had it for the past few days? You just never came outside to try it out?” He slapped his hand onto the roof of the white vehicle, “We can use it to drive around between the event centers and shit. I’ve been using it all week.” A smirk filled his face as he found his proud achievement over me and my ‘inferior’ mind.

“Is that why the bumper is hanging off of the back?”

Chris looked down at the mangled piece of metal and his smile faltered. He kicked it once to show that it still held any value, if little, “I may have crashed it when I was out joyriding yesterday… but besides that it runs perfectly fine.” A low hissing sound emitted from the front of the golf cart, along with a mechanical noise of a screw colliding with another piece of machinery. He paused momentarily, slowly looking up at my face and then glancing back down to where duct-tape was holding the front of the vehicle together, “Well, it has an aux chord.”

“Oh fuck yes,”I jumped into the passenger seat too quickly for comfort. Even though it was going to be Chris driving, and my life was now going to be at stake (not the mention passing pedestrians) I couldn’t even care that much because, first of all, death is literally everything and my life sucks ass (Because my middle class, white cis-male life is so hard and underprivileged). Second of all, there is literally a fucking aux chord and that shit is my life- and who doesn’t love being handed the aux chord? That’s like someone asking you to hold baby Jesus. Like, I would probably accidently drop him and bye but seriously someone decided to trust me with that child in myhands, of all people. I’m putting the blame on sister Mary for allowing that.

Yuuri had to go find his sister somewhere else at the venue, so both Chris and I wouldn’t be seeing him for a while (in the arms of the angles~), which was making me kind of sad. It wasn’t like I could make him stay with us anyways. He didn’t get to call his sister last night to let her know where he was going to be and she was most likely freaking the absolute fuck out. I wish he would’ve just called her sometime before he fell asleep so we could drag him around all day, but I guess life doesn’t always go your way. Life never goes straight-

Just like your sexuality, bitch.

I will fucking slay your ass.

You’re the one that spends eight hours of their everyday life watching some guy’s YouTube videos until six in the fucking morning, buried in Nutella and bad choices. You stan that bitch, don’t you dare try to say anything differently.

I stan BTS and Nick Jonas. The word stan is too low for Yuuri and his beautifulness.

See what I mean, you hoe.

So, apparently… for the past few days we were supposed to be attending a bunch of events for online creators in a different set of buildings. Basically, that is what the golf cart was for. But no one told us this shit, so when this woman came running up to me and Chris when we were rolling around like the badass bitches that we are, I nearly pulled out a bottle of pepper spray and lit that hoe up. How dare she interrupt my patrol.

“Where have you two been?!” She yelled at us, leaning over to catch her breath from running after our golf cart that had probably been pushing 90, “You missed every single gathering this week!” Her dark hair was plastered to her forehead in sweat from the morning sun, and she looked ready to die (same).

I lowered my sunglasses on the bridge of my nose and peered over the lenses, “Um, excuse me?”

She stood up and placed her hands on her lower back, practically growling out of pure frustration at my inability to do any research regarding things I needed to be responsible of. Like I would actually take time out of my day and study things. I have already gone through that bullshit enough during my school years. Honestly, anything similar to school work can leave immediately through the door. Actually, that shit doesn’t deserve the door. Use the window.

“The parties that everyone is throwing for the YouTubers! You’ve missed every single one so far!” She crossed her arms after she ran her fingers through her long black hair a few times to smooth it out, “Everyone has wanted to meet you, Mr. Nikiforov! Since this is your first Playlist Live, and you are such a big channel- a lot of the other attendees of the event would like to have the opportunity to hang out with you.” She scowled, “And you haven’t come yet.”

Chris groaned –probably because he just wanted to drive around the golf cart all day and do nothing else- and slammed his head down onto the steering wheel, eliciting a sharp beep, “But do we have tooooo?” God, he sounded like a five-year-old child being forced to try on clothes in a department store.

“Yes, it is a requirement- and why are you complaining? This is supposed to be fun! Everyone always enjoys it!” The girl took out her phone and quickly texted someone, “You get to do different DIY projects, meet other YouTubers, make friends, eat food- they have alcohol and throw parties as well. My brother put it together this year and he’s quite proud of himself for it.”

What.

Yes please.

I want alcohol.

“Chirs. We have to go. You didn’t tell me about this. Miss….?” I looked over at the girl in hopes of gaining her first name or surname so I had a name to tie to her face.

“Just call me Sara.”

I nodded and turned back to Chirs, setting both of my hands on his shoulders to furthermore illustrate my point, “Miss salsa’s brother worked very hard in putting together this gathering for us- and I think it’s only fair if we attend!”

“My name isn’t sals-“

“And I really want a glass of some Fireball right now! You know what they say,” I sat up in my seat as I pushed up my sunglasses, “To get over a hangover, you must drink more alcohol,” I propped my feet up onto the dashboard of the vehicle and rested my head onto the back of my seat, “Onwards, peasant. Take me to the liquor.” Snapping my fingers a few times, I urged the other male onwards.

“There is something incredibly wrong with you if you believe that shit like that is in any way, shape, or form, accurate.”

“Mental illness is nothing to be ashamed of; it runs in many families-“

“I HAVE A HANGOVER SO I HAVE AN EXCUSE!”

“Chris. We have to leave. Like, right now.”

“What? Why? You’re the one that agreed to come here!”

“But Jacob Sartorius is here and I can practically smell the million dislikes that he got on YouTube for Sweatshirt.”

“Oh shit, you’re right- wait, doesn’t this party have alcohol here?! Isn’t he like seven-years-old?! That’s SO not vegan!”

“You forgot to mention that it’s illegal.”

Sara, Salsa, quesadilla or whatever her name was rolled her eyes at our banter and shoved us into the room, making sure that she thoroughly had her point administered, “You boy’s better be nice to everyone here- and I STG if I get a call from one of the guests about one of you two, and how you fucked up this entire party, I will ship you both back to your home countries immediately. I’ve watched your YouTube videos. I know about the shit that you do.”

I slowly turned to face enchilada, a terrified look upon my face, “Did you just use an acronym in real life?” You know that feeling of disgust you get when you see a spider crawling on something you own? Yeah, that’s how I felt as soon as I heard her utter ‘STG’ in my presence.

“Ew.”

Suddenly, someone tapped on my shoulder from behind me. I turned around to ask if I had been in their way, or if they needed something, because surely they needn’t any discussion with me since I am literally no one, and was absolutely shocked to see that fucking Markiplier was tapping my shoulder from behind, trying to gain my attention- and oh my god, am I actually breathing? I honestly probably looked like a fucking idiot standing there with my mouth open and closing repetitively alongside a flabbergasted Chris, but how on earth did anyone think that I would be able to actually think in such a situation? Let alone form a coherent thought or phrase.

Luckily, Mark had always proved to be quite articulate, and he smiled at my stunned expression. He held out his hand for me to shake it, “It’s really nice to finally meet you, Viktor! I’m a huge fan of your content. Is this your first PlayList?” He had to speak up a bit to allow his voice to be heard over the annoying techno-pop music that was playing on a set of ginormous speakers. At least they weren’t playing YouTuber songs like Chris said that they did last year and the year before that.

In my head, I guess you could say that he was nice enough to come introduce himself before I had the opportunity to do so myself. As I am extremely socially awkward, and would’ve found it extremely difficult to approach any of the other YouTubers attending in order to make friends and such, I was thanking him without even knowing it. But who was I kidding- It was fucking Markiplier. Of course he was going to come up and introduce himself to live out his expectant imagery of the Father of YouTube.

I cleared my throat and adjusted my hair quickly to not look like a complete imbecile before shaking his hand briefly, “Uh, yeah. It is- and thanks for watching my videos. I wouldn’t think that-“

“A YouTuber like me would watch them?” He finished with a laugh, withdrawing his hand from mine and shoving it into his sweater pocket alongside his other, “Believe it or not, but yes. I do happen to watch your videos. I mean, you’re funny as hell; I’d find it harder to believe if I didn’t watch anything on your YouTube channel. Thirty-six-million subscribers is also nothing to sneeze at.”

I laughed, feeling to setting loosen up a bit from the tense atmosphere I had felt upon entering with Chris, “I plan on taking over the throne of YouTube.”

“Not if I beat you to it,” Chris intervened quickly in an attempt to make his presence known. It was rather obvious that he was a huge Markiplier fan if you watched his Resident Evil 7 series. Three words are all that is needed to summarize that series: Constant Markiplier References. All that Chris was trying to do was gain his Senpai’s attention; after all, that is also how I had felt when meeting Yuuri for the first time.

If I looked that desperate when trying to get Yuuri to notice me, I’m going home to google how to tie a noose because Chris is going full fangirl-mode and I know what that looks like on me.

Mark paused in his speech and slowly looked over to Chris. He roughly sucked in a breath and jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, “I should be getting back to my group…”

I nodded, sensing the oncoming awkwardness from nearly a mile away, “Yeah…”

After Mark walked away and I was left able to breathe, my shoulders slumped and I exhaled loudly. Meeting people is one of the most stressful experiences I have ever had to go through in my twenty-some years of living. It’s stressful because you know with every waking moment they’re judging you with all their worth and even have the ability to “expose” you through a YouTube video and ruin your entire career through one awkward meetup or conversation.

“You just met Markiplier,” Chris muttered underneath his breath; obviously still shook from what had just occurred.

“I just met Markiplier,” My voice was even more breathless than his had been.

We stood for a few moments, contemplating what to do next or if we should just leave. After probably a solid minute of us staring into space and awkwardly making eye contact with those around the room, I turned towards the other male and found it in someway possible for me to smile at him.

“Let’s go steal all of the food from the snack bar over there.”

I didn’t have to ask Chris twice: “Fuck yes.”

…shitty techno-pop music that was practically piercing my ears and theirs, I never found myself wanting to do so. First of all, there is literally an entire fucking table of free food here, and if you pass up that opportunity you’re a monster, and secondly, talking to others in just too much of a hazardous task. Especially when it comes to me and my offensive jokes/ inability to know when to speak and when to just shut the fuck up. But if I ever think I’m bad at speaking, I just need to look at Chris. Every morning when I wake up, and before I start my day, I just tell myself: ”Yes, I’m a fuck up, but at least I’m not at the Chris-level of “I’m a fuck up.””

He made fun of my hair in one of his videos. I can say this shit about him to get even. Shh.

“Chis,” I said through a mouthful of M&M’s that had once been a part of trail mix but I picked out all of the other healthy bullshit, “They have a fucking cotton-candy maker over there.” I pointed in the direction where I saw a few other YouTubers messing around with its settings as the person running it gave up and walked away.

He licked the foam off of his slice of lemon-meringue pie and looked at where I was pointing- and I swear to fucking god I saw that guy’s face light up like mine had when someone told me that there was a chocolate fountain here. (Keyword: was. Chris and I drained that bitch as soon as we locked target.)

“We have to go eat some. I haven’t had cotton candy since there was that American carnival that someone decided to throw out in Switzerland,” he took a huge bite out of his piece of pie (more like an entire pie with a piece missing) and then set own his plate. Chris eyed it skeptically as soon as it was no longer in contact with his fingertips.

“What if someone tries to steal it?”

I practically wanted to knee him in the dick, “Chris, no one is going to attempt to fucking steal your pie. It looks like the Lemonhead guy had an abortion,” I grabbed his shoulder and shook them to remove his gaze from the baked good momentarily, “And even if they did, cotton-candy is more important. I hate to say it but it’s true. We all have to take one for the team to get that cotton-candy and if that means leaving a man behind,” I tightened my grip on his shoulder as I allowed my words to sink it, “we’ll leave a man behind.”

Chris looked horrified. He stepped back from my reach, “No. We can’t leave him here, it isn’t safe.”

I sorrowfully gazed at the pie that Chris had set back down onto the table, “He isn’t going to make it anyways.”

The Swiss male threw a hand over his heart as if I had wounded him dearly, “You don’t know that.” His eyes held the true sadness of someone who had been through the loss of nearly everyone that they love.

I gave up.

“Dude, fuck this. I’m going to go get some cotton candy,” I instantly strode away from the other male towards where a few other YouTubers had been receiving their cotton candy from the machine. It was a classic cotton-candy maker; probably used at a fair or carnival of some sorts more than just a few times. As I approached, I realized that the more years it has on it, the better. It was more experienced. The cotton-candy would surely be of better quality.

Just as soon as I reached the machine, my phone rang in my pocket. The lyrics to Deepthroat faintly filled the air, accompanying the other music, and I nearly cried at how much better of a rapper CupcaKke was and not the bitch singing this techno song though all of her auto-tune. Like, why listen to thins when you can pick that dick up with chopsticks?

Slightly annoyed but thanking the lord above for allowing me to have such a blessing ringtone, I answered the call without checking the I.D., “Yellow?”

”Hey Vik. It’s David, your security guard.”

It’s Drake.

“Oh hey,” I reached a hand into the cotton-candy machine, ignoring the ugly looks I got from the beauty gurus around me and began to eat the candy that was now wrapped around my hand, “What’s up?”

Drake cleared his throat, “Well, there’s a kid out here on the outside of the event center that you’re in right now- trying to get inside. He said he’s with you?”

It must be Yuuri, “Hm, what does he look like?”

”A bit shorter than you, accent, Japanese, glasses-“

“That would be Yuuri. Send him in.”

Chapter Text

“Now,” Thai YouTuber, Phichit Chulanont said as he pointed his camera in the direction of Chris and zoomed in the frame until it was just an extreme close-up of Chris’s face, “What in god’s name is ‘Viktuuri,’ or whatever you called it?” He knew that he was setting up his friend, Viktor, for torture from the media and his friends for years to come, but he just couldn’t resist. Phichit was famous for creating numerous ships between many of his fellow YouTubers. Needless to say, he was adored, and possibly even loved by viewers around the globe for having the ability to create entire fandoms with a wave of his hand. He truly was the goddess of YouTube.

The YouTube party was still occurring as the video was being filmed, but Phichit could’ve cared less. This was a perfect opportunity to gain views through creating a ship between both Katsuki Yuuri, an underdog YouTuber that was barely even known, and Viktor Nikiforov: one of the most popular YouTubers with nearly 38 million subscribers. In fact, the male was so overjoyed with his idea, that he couldn’t even wait until he would go hang out with the two after the party, and decided to film the idea him and Chris had created merely seconds after the words left their tongues.

“Okay, okay,” Chris quickly said, glancing over his shoulder where Viktor was animatedly conversing with the smaller YouTuber, “There’s this YouTuber that isn’t really known in the world of YouTube right now, named Katsuki Yuuri.” Phichit panned the camera to the back of the room and zoomed in on Viktor’s face, catching him in the act of saying ”Hey, what’s up guys, it’s Scarce here,” as a joke. Chris giggled like a little girl at the comedic timing of the event, “And Viktor is like fucking obsessed with him,” he placed a hand over his mouth; barely able to contain his laughter.

“So we’re shipping the two mother fuckers together!” Phichit interrupted loudly, zooming in and out on the two, supposedly “love birds” from where he was positioned across the room. Chris, honestly, was extremely proud of himself from his creation of “Viktuuri,” only at the hands of a few glasses of alcohol. Hell, he wasn’t even going to say that it was due to the alcohol that he created such a masterpiece. He was just a genius (at least, that’s what he believed.)

Chris turned away from the camera to gain Viktor’s attention through strange hand signals. The Russian male only looked away from Yuuri quick enough to throw him a ”what in the absolute fuck are you doing”-look before returning to his conversation with the Japanese YouTuber. Phichit zoomed back in on Chris’s face: “The wild Viktor is too engrossed into his mating ritual to notice our desperate calls,” Viktor flipped off the camera from where he was sitting even though he was unable to hear what the two troublemakers were talking about, “We will have to try harder.”

The two weren’t even able to speak at that point from between their loud giggling.

“The wild Viktor is obviously intrigued with the possible mate,” Chris said in an Australian accent, peaking over the top of the couch to point in the direction of where the other males were conversing amongst themselves in a perfectly harmless manner, “The other male is not taking the bait. As you can see, it is very difficult for a wild Viktor to attract a mate due to his crippling, social awkwardness and general inability to go outside of his home in Russia.” Chris narrowed his eyes and completely ignored the way Dan Howell passed the two and looked at them strangely from where they were perched behind a couch in the lounge.

The Swiss male looked directly into the lens of the camera, “We may have to get closer,” He tried with all of his might to not laugh, “It’s a dangerous mission, But it must be done.” Phichit aimed the camera over the back of the couch and zoomed in extremely close to where Viktor was looking over at them with a disgusted and somewhat confused facial expression. Yuuri glanced at where Chris was watching the future couple, but ducked before he could examine the two from their hiding spot.

“You sound like fucking Filthy Frank,” Phichit said from between snorts.

Chris ripped off his glasses, “I am Filthy Frank.”

“No, That’s Filthy Frank,” The camera zoomed over to where George was sitting on a couch, being an actual decent human being for once; or in other words, the complete opposite of Phichit and Chris. The whole ordeal was quite strange in more than a few ways. They had only met just today, and they had already engaged themselves in bonding over shipping two fellow YouTubers together. Their intentions had been extremely similar from the start, as well. Phichit had needed new meat to prey on, since Yuri and Otabek hadn’t attended that year’s Playlist, and Chris was tired of seeing his best friend single and desperate.

Chris paused and glanced in the direction that Phichit was looking in, “That’s an imposter.”

“So original. I thought PewDiePie was the one pretending to be Filthy Frank-“

”You’re triggering me!”

“Dude, that’s Tyler Oakley.”

“Tyler Oakley’s here?!”

“He’s here like, every year! Of 'course he’d be here!”

“But I didn’t see him last time! I’m going to go get a photo and then get fucked up with some cotton candy.”

“You can’t; Viktor ate the rest of it and the people running the event ran out of stuff to make it.”

“What?! That’s bullshit!”

“I think you just made a security guard angry with all of your cursing.”

Surely enough, a security guard was glaring at them from across the room.

“At least I didn’t fly a drone into the chandelier like last year.”

“Dude, I brought a drone. It’s in my backpack.”

“WELL GO FUCKING GET IT.”

I had no fucking idea as to why Chris and Phichit Chulanont were filming me from across the room. The amount of times I had caught them staring at me and laughing their asses off were enough to make a grown man cry.

Yuuri kept on asking me why I was flipping off the couch, but I just said that there was someone that fucked up my ad revenue sitting across the room. Of course, he looked at me as if I was completely and utterly mad, but decided to just resume in the act of sipping his Snapple and vodka cocktail without another question regarding me and my random cursing. On numerous occasions, I threw up my hand in a gesture of pointing to the door and ordering Chris to leave, but all I got in response was Chris yelling: “Nazi confirmed,” and a very confused Yuuri as he turned around to see no one at the couch.

Besides Chris being an absolute fucking cunt for the entire time that was the fore-party, I had gotten to know Yuuri quite a bit. I learned that he had studied most of his life to work in the film industry (which would account for his amazing editing skills when it came to his videos) and was hoping to gain entrance to a film school in New York. Apparently, they were throwing a contest, and whoever won would get both a scholarship to the school, and they would be allowed to attend the college classes and seminars for four years.

“Wow, so you edit photos and stuff?” I asked with an enthusiastic smiled as I watched Yuuri stir his drink with a straw, “Is that why your videos are of such great quality? What kind of camera do you use?” I was extremely interested in the way he edited his YouTube videos, since they were so well put together and such. Never had I ever watched one of his videos and saw any major errors that were in need of being fixed.

Yuuri looked downwards with a frown covering the lower portion of his face. In the background, my favorite song Dance, Dance by Fall Out Boy filtered through the speakers and I tapped my foot to the familiar beat from my teenage years. The other male glanced about nervously, as if he didn’t want to answer my question for some reason or another, “Um, yeah. I guess you could say that. I’ve been doing it for quite a while now, but my stuff isn’t good enough for some of the bigger schools out there… I use a Canon EOS 5D Mark III DSLR.” He looked sad from my perspective.

“What are you talking about?” I said with a smile that held just the slightest bit of confusion, “Your stuff’s absolutely amazing! How could you say that? I’d pay thousands of dollars for one of your photos! They’re of extremely good quality, and your editing skills are professional-grade!”

Yuuri blushed and took the smallest sip of his beverage, “You don’t have to say that…”

I sat forward in my chair and shook my head viciously, “But it’s true! I’m obsessed with how much effort you put into editing your videos- I could only imagine how great your photos would look!” I grasped his hands between my own and offered him the biggest smile I was capable of conceiving naturally, “That school will not be able to say no with your skill!” I was desperate at this point. How could he ever think that he wasn’t good enough?

“Really, they’re nothing…” He blushed at my kind-hearted intentions and wrung his wrists amongst each other repetitively.

“They must’ve taken hours to edit!” I ignored his previous statement and held up my hands to try to make my point stronger.

Yuuri opened his mouth to speak, but was immediately silenced by a loud whirling noise above both of our heads. He ducked at the sudden wind that engulfed us and looked up to see what the source of the noise had been from. I followed his actions and glanced upwards, already having a strange premonition as to why there was a sudden gust of wind overtaking our bodies.

It was a fucking drone.

And I already knew who was behind the controls.

I leaped from my seat and pointed in the direction of where those two mother fucking trouble makers were laughing amongst themselves, “FUCK OFF, CHRIS!”

Chris lost control of the drone and the machinery flew straight into the wall.

…

“You’re trending worldwide on Twitter,” Chris said with the sassiest voice he was capable of mustering. He held up his phone and practically shoved it into my face from where I was laying on my bed, fully spread out and absolutely done with life for the most part. This morning I had been awoken to the sound of my Twitter blowing the absolute fuck up; around six A.M., mind you. After Chris uploaded the video of me being too gay to function while drunk, people had already begun to question my sexuality despite my saying in that I never confined myself to whatever society applied me to. Apparently, the Internet didn’t seem to have the same idea, because as soon as Phichit posted his video over what he described as “Viktuuri,” in as little as four hours, #Viktuuri had climbed the charts all of the way to number two on the world’s trending hashtags.

I groaned and rolled over, “Yeah, I saw it; have you seen what has happened to Yuuri’s channel?” In as short of a timeframe as four days, Yuuri had gained over 200,000 thousand subscribers. All of his social media accounts were close to being verified due to the severe, sudden increase of his follower –count, and he was extremely overwhelmed by the unannounced blowup of attention. Needless to say, he wasn’t responding to my concerned text messages, and I felt absolutely horrible. It had always been rather apparent that he wasn’t in it for the subs, and he just wanted a YouTube channel for nothing but fun and games, but I had gone and fucked it up for him by allowing Chris to upload the video two days ago. Now, he would never want anything to do with me.

“It fucking blew up,” Chris answered for me, pulling his phone back to himself and tapping on the screen for a few seconds. He flipped the screen around again and showed me the Sub count on Yuuri’s channel. All of his videos had around 100,000 views now, and averaged at 20,000-30,000 likes vs. 2 Dislikes. It was an extremely good likes-dislikes ratio. “Everyone absolutely loves him; they say he’s one of the most precious people that they’ve ever had the expense of watching,” He scrolled downwards and showed me where the comment section of one of his videos were located.

xXKatsudonXx: I LOVE HIM SO MUCH HOW AM I JUST NOW FINDING OUT ABOUT HIM?!!!11?
4 hours ago
1 Likes

luVBug_: No wonder why Viktor loves him so much. He’s ADORABLE
2 hours ago

JAEGERBOMBASTIC: Future queen of YouTube in the making
2 hours ago
456 Likes 9 Dislikes
[View 84 replies]

Thnks fr th American/Psycho/Idiot mmrs: SUBSCRIBED AS SOON AS I SAW HIS FACE. MY SON
2 hours ago
2 likes

LoveIsLove: Yuuri is so open-minded about things and he doesn’t judge without getting to know a topic well! I can already tell that he’s going to have an amazing YouTube career thanks to him getting discovered! He deserved these subscribers YEARS ago
1 hour ago
127 Likes 4 dislikes
[View 14 replies]

Phil’s Eyelash: THEY ARE SERIOUSLy THE EPItOME OF DNP THIS FANDOM IS GOING TO FUCK ME UP THANK YOU ViKTOR
1 hour ago
[View 1 reply]

Trololololo: unoriginal channel. Generic
1 hour ago
4 Likes 85 Dislikes
[View 7 Replies]

“I feel like I’m screwing up everything for him,” I muttered quietly, just audible over the way Chris was cussing out the last comment. The Swiss male paused momentarily and frowned. I didn’t know if he was questioning why I said such a thing, or if he found another comment he disapproved of.

I couldn’t get over the fact that I possibly forced him into something he wished to have no part of. I had no idea if his channel would actually prosper, or if it would fade away after just a few months of hype regarding the whole ordeal. Surely, most of his new subscribers had originated from my collaborations with Yuuri, and the birth of “Viktuuri” or whatever Phichit had labeled our ship name as, and that was the only reason. People were paying attention to him because I had mentioned in a roomful of thousands of my fans that I enjoyed his videos, not even including the videos that had been published to YouTube. I was already contemplating the act of asking both Chirs and Phichit to remove their YouTube videos, despite their high views and ad revenue that was being acquired by the second.

Any way that I decided to go with would ultimately lead to sadness amongst one of the afflicted parties. While I didn’t want to throw my friends under the bus, I didn’t want to have Yuuri absolutely hate me for the rest of time.

I was unable to come to a logical conclusion.

Chapter Text

We left the United States that same day, unfortunately. I knew that I would probably never going to be able to go back to America for a year or two, and I was going to miss this place dearly. Russia was entirely different than the U.S. and surprisingly, I had more feelings of nationalism towards America than my own home country. Perhaps I just happened to enjoy everything about the other country more than Russia. It was such a culturally diverse place. There were so many different languages and people; it truly was one of the most amazing places I’ve ever had the opportunity to visit.

The plane ride back was much more silent and boring than the one previous with Chris alongside me to entertain me the way home. We took separate plane rides home; his to France where he would ride a car home to Switzerland, and mine straight back to Finland, where I would also drive home to St. Petersburg. I decided not to vlog the way back since I was so tired, and since the flight attendants told me that I was not allowed to film due to past incidents. I could only assume that maybe JJ had rode the plane before and had fucked up something on the flight.

With my pink, heated neck pillow to make up for my lost blanket, and an oversized flannel to wear, I quickly fell asleep and was out for most of the time of the flight. For only two hours was I awake, during which I spent editing videos and watching YouTube videos that I had saved through YouTube Red. It wasn't that bad of a flight, surprisingly, but I wasn't looking forward to drive through St. Petersburg during rush-hour. Of all people, of course I knew how much Russian rush-hour could suck at times, but I was just excited to get home and see Makkachin. A bit of traffic wouldn’t mean anything to me as soon as I got to see Makkachin after a week of being in America.

I left the gate a bit too quickly to for the security guard’s liking, and they thought that I had been trying to hide something as soon as I began to leave the terminal; so unfortunately there was an immediate pat-down when they asked why I was walking so fast, and I said that I wanted to get home and see my dog. Of course they hadn’t of believed me. I looked basically high after being asleep for 12 hours, and my eyes were red and angry after having to stand next to a woman smoking right after my flight. In anyone else's eyes, I would’ve probably looked like a combination of Snoop Dogg and Willie Nelson. It was lovely, is what I’m saying.

“Excuse me, sir?” I heard the voice of an extremely sophisticated person ask from behind me, bringing me to a stop, “Is there any reason regarding why you are walking at such a fast pace?” The voice had came from a man that towered over me; bald, moustache, extremely thick eyebrows, a police uniform, and speaking in fluent Russian despite him being obviously from America. Alongside him was a massive German Shepard, that, while not angry-looking, was extremely threatening from its large body and wide stance.

As I turned around with a confused look upon my face, I quickly realized that it was a police officer asking me this question and I had to remain calm to not appear suspicious. Despite me being completely and utterly innocent, I knew that literally anything could be running through the man’s mind; and while I had done nothing wrong, I had looked extremely suspicious practically running through the airport to its exit.

“Oh, sorry,” I said in english, turning to face him fully, “I just recently got home from the United States and I’m anxious to see my dog, Makkachin, at my apartment.” I offered him a slight smile but I knew that he was not trusting of my words. My eyes nervously trailed down to the gigantic German Shepherd by the man’s long legs. I honestly wanted to pet the animal since it was so cute, but I knew that it was a working dog in training but it was just so adorable and I wanted to hug it.

He raised a massive eyebrow, “Really? Well, I just received a call from one of the staff workers here and they said that you were leaving the terminal in a slightly suspicious manner. I’m sorry if this is an inconvenience to you in any way, but it’s only for the safety of the citizens in Russia at this very moment: I must give you a security check before you leave-”

The police officer was suddenly cut of my a young girl running up out of nowhere and hugging the man; probably around the age of six to nine. “Daddy!” she cried happily, attaching herself to what now seemed to be her father’s leg. A woman ran up from the left with a tired looking face, but was also smiling at the police officer who had stopped me.

I felt a smile tugging at the edges of my mouth at the interaction, but I had to stop myself before it could become a full-blown grin. The German Shepherd even began to wag its tail in response.

“Honey,” He said, “I’m in the middle of work right now.” He was entirely taught from how his daughter was in such proximity to a man that was possibly dangerous. Of course I knew that I wasnt such a thing, bt at the same time he ha no way of knowing that I truly just was wanting to rush home to see my pet.

The little girl looked up at her father with wide eyes but an even wider smile, completely ignoring the man’s earlier statements, “We can all of the way here to see you! You- you haven't been home in- in,” she paused and held up her hands, counting her fingers, “Seven weeks!”

“Two months,” Her mother corrected with a small smile. Her dark hair was pulled back from her face in a small ponytail overlayering the bigger portion of her hair. SHe glanced up towards her husband and was about to properly greet him with a hug or kiss, when her eyes fell upon me. Her face immediately dropped.

The little girl’s mother held out her hand quickly in the direction of her daughter. It was obvious that this lady wasn't an idiot. She knew that her husband was currently on the job, and he must’ve had a good reason for stopping me. “Jesse, we can see papa after he’s done with work, okay? He’s working right now.” She looked down-right terrified.

Jesse huffed and refused to let go of her father’s leg. I thought she was going to glare at me for preventing her father from being able to see them for a prolonged period of time, but as soon as her eyes connected with my own, her entire face lit up as it possibly would on Christmas morning.

“Vik- Viktor!” She cried, letting go of her father’s leg and running to me instead, hugging me around the waist since I was shorter than her father had been.

I’ve never seen a father so protective in his entire life. He immediately began to leap forward, but stopped when his daughter cried: “I’m your biggest fan, Mr. Nikiforov!”

Even Jesse’s mother seemed surprised.

Apparently, the little girl was an avid fan.

I wanted to hug back Jesse and tell her how happy I was to meet her, but at the same time I didn't want to be crushed in between the hands of her Dad. The man seriously looked like someone out of Sons of Anarchy, or a body builder’s TV show.

“The famous Viktor Nikiforov?” The Mom stated, her face falling into a grin, “Are you the man my daughter has been spending the past year watching?” She seemed happy, so I decided to try to ignore the way that her father had previously looked as if he were going to stab me in the eye with a spork from the cafeteria next to us. Obviously, he was still angry that Jesse knew who I was, and was hugging me like I was her life-line.

“That would be me,” I crouched down to the little girl’s height and hugged her back, “Do you watch my videos?” I offered her the largest smile I was possible of achieving as I pulled back. She was just so adorable with how she was to animated about how she was no nodding.

“Yea- Yeah!” She completely ditched introductions and held up a hand and one finger, “I’m six!”

My smile expanded even larger, “Wow! Are you really? Are you sure you aren’t twelve?” I faked innocence with a small tilt of my head.

She giggled and shook her head, “No! I’m six! I’m Jesse!”

Jesse’s mother pulled out her phone and began recording our interaction, looking over at her husband with an insanely large grin.

“I- I watch your videos! For a long time! One year!” She made it appointed to herself to raise one finger to illustrate her point thoroughly. I felt like squealing at the way she reminded me of my younger cousin whenever she was really excited about something.

“Can- can I get a picture with you?”

I stood up just a bit more and nodded enthusiastically, “Of course you can!” I looked towards her mother in a silent plea for permission and she pulled a small, pink iPod out of her coat pocket. In no time at all, Jesse wrapped her arms around me fervently and I returned the gesture- but in a bit of a much more delicate fashion. Jesse had no problem with basically squeezing me to death, but I surely didn’t want her father’s work dog to attack me and maul out my eyes; my eyes that currently made me look as if I were a meth addict. Even worse, I had a spoon in my bag from recently eating all of the pudding on my previous flight, which would make me even more of a suspicious character.

You’re hugging a six-year-old girl while you’re thinking about meth. Wow. Just wow. I thought you set the bar low for yourself, but damn. This incident really takes the cake, doesn’t it?

Oh my god what if her father can fucking read my mind, or some shit? He’s been staring at me like i just saluted Hitler- and now he’s fucking glaring, yep, he can most definitely read my mind. Mother fucking beardless Gandalf over here with his Harry Potter-bitch-ass psychic powers, invading my privacy. Rude.

Her mother quickly snapped the photo within a moment’s notice and then let me be on my way, not before I also got a picture with the little girl for Instagram reasons-

notvictornikiforov
five minutes ago

[image.jfd.983]

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gogogoman: OH MY GOD THIS IS LITERALLY SO ADORABLE

viktors_bitch: Awe! <3 I love vik so much :3

xX.emo.Xx: everyone else: “why do you like viktor nikiforov so much hes annoying. Me: *shows them this photo

jesshugh: HELL FUCKING YEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHH

-and then received an actual, sincere apology from her father for having to stop me and demand a pat down or security check. I couldn't blame him that much for his actions, though. He had probably gotten a message from another employee in the airport and he was just trying to keep everyone safe. I eventually just told him it was for the better since his daughter got to meet me in person.

Everything was pleasant.

Until I saw the god damn traffic.

Lord, what did I ever do to receive this harsh, unforgiving treatment?

Do you want a fucking list?

Third hour of traffic, and I still had no word from Yuuri on if he was doing alright after the sudden blowup regarding his channel. He hadn’t posted anything on his Tumblr or Instagram, and I was slowly starting to become more and more worried about him. Two-hundred thousand subscribers was a lot to pick up in such a short period of time- and obviously, he wasn’t ready for such a drastic change. Usually, YouTubers have quite a bit of time to gather their thoughts as their channels grow, but for Yuuri it had been an entire different experience.

I remember back in my Algebra 1 class, when we were studying slopes, and reminiscence on how I looked at exponential growth factors, and how I thought that they were possibly the largest sudden change that I have ever seen in my entire life. But now, I stood corrected. This was the biggest sudden change that I have ever experienced.

With a groan, I slammed my face into the steering wheel of my rented vehicle; forcing it to emit a loud honk to all of the cars. A man rolled down his window and began to cuss me out in Russian; saying things about how I was an idiot. All of the cars around me began to honk their horns back at me in obvious signs of aggravation.

I slammed my face back into the leather once again: “ТЫ МНЕ НРАВИТСЯ, ЧТО Я НЕ СКАЗАЛ ДЛЯ ВАШЕГО МНЕНИЯ ГОДАМИ НА МЕНЯ, МУСУЮЩУЮ МОЮ СТОРОНУ В ТРАХОВНОЕ РУЛЕВОЕ КОЛЕСО. Я БЫЛ В ЭТОМ ГОДУ НОМ ДВИЖЕНИИ НА ЧЕТЫРЕ ЧАСА УБИВАЙ СЕБЯ!” (YOU MOTHER FUCKING CUNT I DID NOT ASK FOR YOUR GODDAMN OPINION ON ME SLAMMING MY FACE INTO THE FUCKING STEERING WHEEL. I HAVE BEEN IN THIS GODDAMN TRAFFIC FOR FOUR HOURS KILL YOURSELF!)

I was greeted with only more honking and even a few angry shouts from fellow drivers that overpowered my own. One man even took it to the measures of screaming a few words at me in German; all of which I assumed to be lovely. I was glad to realize that there was such a culturally diverse group of hate surrounding me. There was an angry french woman screaming ”Tous les memes!” at me, obviously relating to younger drivers, and a small elderly Swedish man was screaming at the top of his lungs. PewDiePie, I love your work.

It was going to be a long ride home.

Chapter Text

I swear to god I screamed loud enough for my neighbors to call the police as soon as I got home and saw Makkachin.

My mother had apparently stayed at my home for the past few days to make sure everything was in order before I got back from Playlist, and as soon as I entered through the front door, she was watching from the kitchen door way with a look of amusement on her face as Makkachin leaped onto my chest.

Screaming both out of happiness and fright, I stumbled backwards and eventually came into contact with the floor. The dog eagerly lapped at my face with a few short, high yips. Rubbing at Makkachin’s thick coat originating from the cold weather, I happily squealed and buried my face into his fur , “Makkachin! How have you been, boy?” Obviously I recieved no response since he probably couldn't understand Russian dialogue; nor any other language excluding dog. He only continued to lap at my face until he became bored with the actions and trotted off to his dog bed in the corner.

Now covered in dog hair, I stood from the floor and proceeded to wipe of my black jeans. Where’s a lint roller when you need one? Мама smiled at me and opened her arms wildly for me to hug her, “How was America, Dorogaya?” I wasted no time in dropping my bags full of things from Playlist and the white tarp from my booth that the workers had wanted nothing to do with and returning her gesture. Was she actually going to be classy for once?

“It was amazing, Мама. I met so many great people!” I pulled back and attempted to not cringe at the way her thick, red lipstick smeared against my forehead as she planted a kiss onto my face. She always wore lipstick, even if she was sitting at home and watching k-dramas or RuPaul’s Drag Race-

Speaking of RuPaul’s Drag Race… Season 9 airs in like… I immediately glanced at my watch discreetly and realized that it was 3 minutes past the airing time back in the United States. Three minutes ago! Completely ignoring natural geeting as in, “How are you?” and, “How have you been?” I immediately asked: “Did you record it?”

She knew instantly what was meant by that incredibly short statement.

“Fuck yeah, I did,” completely ditching my hopes of her being in the least bit classy, she lifted up her skirt at the hem just the slightest bit to allow her ankles to be visible, and unstrapped a metal flask from where it was velcroed to her high socks. I opened my mouth to complain with her slight signs of alcoholism, and how unsanitary it was for her to hide things in her socks (she used to sneak in food for us to the cinema by putting it in bags and then her socks) but she ignored my knowing glance by popping open the flask and taking a few swigs.

Мама smiled, “Shall we go watch it?”

“I’ll get the popcorn.”

I know I said that I wanted Yuri to finally text me back after nearly 48 hours of silence, but I knew with all of my heart that I didn’t want him to text me at four in the fucking morning. No, that wasn’t an overreaction in the least. It wasn’t 8 A.M. and I was just being sassy over the fact that it was early. It was literally 4:13 in the morning, and Мама was still asleep on the air mattress that she had insisted upon going out to the drugstore and purchase- even though she could’ve just drove home to Moscow.

So, as I was peacefully sleeping with Makkachin in my bed, Brittney Spear’s Toxic ran out through my apartment building as I received a text message. I groaned loudly and reached blindly towards where it was perched on my nightstand. Unfortunately, I couldn't find the little fucker and it even buzzed so violently that it fell off of my nightstand and it fell onto the floor. A small cracking noise echoed throughout the room and just barely through my hazy mind-state, It was audible. I immediately leaped from my bed, reaching down for that trick-ass bitch to only find that it was practically fucking shattered.

“YOU DICK STICK.”

Your mother is literally a room away from you.

That probably isn’t even the weirdest shit that she’s ever heard coming from my room.

I don’t want to know.

I finally acquired my phone from where it had somehow slid underneath my bed and observed the cracked screen, screaming when I saw that there was a large web of broken glass fanning out over the surface of the screen. What did I do to god to deserve this? You kill 100 orphans and suddenly you’re the bad guy.

God hates you because you make jokes like that.

Suddenly, Мама burst into my room with my old lacrosse stick in one hand and dog toy in the other. Her hair was an absolute mess, and I new that she had been up for a few hours or so since there was a bottle of Fireball whiskey in the waistband of her shorts. My mother never fell asleep with alcohol around her because when I was a child she would drink it in her sleep and choke.

“Viktor?! Are you alright? Did you have a nightmare about someone stealing the Krispy Kreme Donuts that you hide in the refrigerator again?!” She raised the dog toy (that looked like a dildo, now that I thought about it) “Or did someone break into the house because they’re a crazed fan?! I will cut a bitch!” (Mama’s toy or dog’s toy? Will we ever know?) Makkachin scuttling in behind her and ran into the backs of Мама’s legs, nearly knocking her over, me basically screaming at my broken phone, and Makkachin’s toy that looked like a dildo; it truly was an average day in my life- especially since I only bought that toy for him because it looked like a pink dick.

“My phone cracked!” I watched, practically motionless, as Мама dropped the “dog toy” in exchange for the bottle of cinnamon whiskey that was attached to her side almost like one of the baby-holders that looked like a satchel/backpack. But instead of it being a child, it was a bottle of alcohol- which said a lot about our relationship.

Мама paused, her lips still nursing the bottle as she turned around and completely ignored the defeated look on my face as I was barely able to not sob at the sight of my phone. I glanced down at the now unable to work device -since the screen was no longer interactive- and realized that the message had been from Yuuri. A loud gasp came from my mouth and I threw myself upwards on my bed.

“MOM! I need a new phone ASAP! Can I borrow yours?! This is extremely important!”

“Unless MCR got back together I don't give a shit! You aren't going to use my phone for whatever messed-up demonic shit that you do on the daily!” She continued to walk away until I yelled:

”I SWEAR TO GOD GERARD JUST TWEETED SOMETHING ABOUT REUNITING.” I needed to lie so I could somehow get her to let me use her phone for a few minutes. Luckily, she was easily fooled and within four seconds tops, she was chucking the device in my direction. I already knew how disappointed she would be after she realized that it had all been a lie in order for me to obtain her phone- hell, it physically hurt me as an individual to joke about something on such an emotional, depressing level- but it was absolutely necessary.

And yet you make holocaust and 9/11 jokes. This says a lot about how shitty you are as a person.

“If they release tour dates I want to receive them as soon as fucking possible, Viktor.”

“Okay,” I completely ignored any statements further than that and proceeded to copy down Yuuri’s phone number into the device while shooing mother from the room. This was urgent: so much, in fact, that the MIssion Impossible theme might as well have been playing as I typed in the numbers I had memorized into the device and instantly sent a small “Hi,” as my first message.

Surprisingly, I received a response just moments afterwards, consisting of:

Yuuri-sama: ”Hello.

Squealing like a pre-teen girl on Twitter, I eagerly read and re-read the bitterly sweet short message and I couldn't help but smile like a dork. This was the first thing that I had heard from the Japanese male in nearly a week- and to think that he would ever respond was something that I had never dreamed of occurring. I knew that he was still shook from the massive blow-up and I was hoping to give him some time before I pressured him into messaging me back through the means of both social media and messenger apps.

”Hi, Yuuri! How are you doing? I’m really sorry about what happened!”

Yuuri-sama: ”I’m great. Still a bit nervous about my “fans,” but I’m getting used to it. Why would you be sorry?”

I frowned.

”The massive blow-up was completely out of the blue and it was my fault for pressuring you into collabing with me. I didn't know if you’d be able to deal with the sudden onslaught of viewers.”

Yuuri-sama: “I really didn’t deal with it that well at first and I’m really sorry for not responding to any of your messages. A lot of my new subscribers want to know more about me through DMs on twitter, so I’ve been quite busy with that lately.”

I hated our formal way of texting- since I usually texted everyone with continuous acronyms and sarcastic, ironic statements, but it was obviously the type of conversation that Yuuri happened to enjoy- so I wasn’t going to complain furthermore. Precise, groomed messaging seemed to be the type of conversations that Yuuri would be able to deal with.

”You should make a Q&A video!

Yuuri-sama: ”Isn’t that too basic? Rather, mainstream?”

A smile formed on my chapped lips and I couldn't help not texting back an enthusiastic reply of:

”Slightly, but it isn't that bad! All YouTubers do them! Just make a hashtag like #AskYuuri, and there ya go! Maybe we can even make a video together while we’re at it.”

As soon as I hit send, I instantaneously regretted what had been stated. Just a few days ago, Yuui had been avoiding me entirely because of how I had somehow boosted his fame- and now here I was already asking for another collab. I am such a greedy little man.

Seconds turned into minutes.

Fifteen minutes of complete and utter silence before my mother's cellphone rang.

Yuuri sama: ”Yeah. I’d like that.”

“Chris, what the fuck are you doing at my house?”

Chris completely ignored me and pushed his way inside, lugging his pull-along suitcase behind him.

Just before Chris had made a sudden, unannounced visit to my house -which was practically a ten to fifteen hour drive from where he was located- I had just decided on doing a daily vlog which would have consisted of my usual sardonic humor and casual snarkiness. My mother had left the previous day, and it was now just me and Makkachin alone to binge watch British cooking shows on repeat. Depending on the time of day, we would switch from the baking shows to 13 Reasons Why, and then to American Horror Story.

I groaned in both tiredness and aggravation, “It’s too fucking early for this bullshit. I woke up thirty minutes ago.”

“It’s three o’clock in the fucking afternoon.”

“It’s still two hours too early for my brain to begin functioning. Come back an hour later-”

Chris once again ignored me entirely and tossed his suitcase onto my couch, making himself at home with no remorse whatsoever, “C’mon, bitch. We’re going shopping.”

“You sound like my grandmother trying to recite a scene from Mean Girls.”

“Damn right,” He unzipped the pack he had brought with him and pulled out two shirts. Turning to me, he held them up to his chest. “Walmart or Gucci?”

“How ‘bout neither, you fuckin’ walnut. Where’s that Yeezy sweater you found at that thrift shop in America?” I crossed my arms after a long yawn escaped my mouth.

“The one that smelled like fucking McDonald’s? That was literally disgusting?”

“Hey, that’s the highest level of praise in America,” I shot back.

“Whatever, we’re going to the store to film a vlog.”

"Grocery Store?"

"Grocery Store."

Chapter Text

“We is goin’ to the store, baby,” Chris said as me popped his mouth and walked into the store, swaying his hips dramatically. A woman to the left of him stared as he passed into the automatic doors and tightened her grip on her son’s hand, pulling the boy in the other direction. Chris stopped, stomped his foot down, and gave me his best fashion model turn; short hair billowing in the artificial wind created by the heater.

I laughed and zoomed in as far as possible on Chris’s face, accidentally shaking the camera much more than I would ever find acceptable for good footage. “What if everyone here actually speaks English and catches us like, making offensive jokes and shit.” I turned off the camera and followed Chris to the entrance. Basking the heat of the entryway momentarily, I sighed before raising the electronic device and pressing record again.

“Girl, why did you even want to come here; what do you need,” I looked in the direction of where sweets were located and suddenly felt the emptiness in my stomach hit me like a wave. “Bitch, they probably got choc-co-latte.”

Chris looked up at the sign pointing to the candy aisle, “This ain’t fuckin’ Switzerland. They’ve never had fucking chocolate and diabetes here because they’re all about health and stupid shit like that. Only Switzerland has this much chocolate.” Even though he seemed “disgusted” at the sight because he was on a “diet” since Playlist, he walked in the direction of the candy aisle without a second thought.

“You’re on a fucking diet!”

“Honey, and Donald Trump isn’t racist. C’mon, we all know that I’d never be able to stay on a diet for more than a fucking week.”

I paused in my steps, thought, and then shrugged knowingly. It was true; too true, if you ask me.

A sudden thought randomly occurred to me.

“You should shave your facial hair.”

Chris paused mid step and turned towards me; arms crossed and eyebrow raised.

“The fuck do you mean?”

“You look like a pedophile.”

“No, I look fashionable; there’s a difference, whore.”

“Are you sure about that? Apparently that shit on your face didn’t get the memo.”

“Hey, fuck you, okay. Everyone loves my beard. There’s entire Tumblr blogs dedicated to this masterpiece.”

“Yeah and there’s an entire blog also dedicated to photoshopping dicks onto Dan Howell’s face. Having blogs dedicated to certain things doesn’t necessarily make them a good thing.”

Chris ignored me and then decided to grab a bar of chocolate off of the shelf where we were now standing. My eyes gazed across the wide expanse that was of candy; the shelves were all about the height of seven to eight feet, most definitely way over my head due to my short-ass self. Candies of thousands of kinds were located there; glass jars of hard, cherry and butterscotch ones, chocolate bars from across the world, name-brand American candy like Skittles and Kit-Kats, and peppermint sticks. It truly was something similar to Heaven- well, the closest to Heaven that I was ever going to get to.

“Wow, they still sell this?” Chris muttered, “In Switzerland they stopped selling this kind of chocolate years ago.” He couldn’t stop smiling at the bar, grabbing probably about seven more before looking over at me questionably.

“Gettin’ anything?”

He didn’t have to ask twice. I immediately ran down the aisle away from him, leaving Chris confused state of mind. I returned with a shopping cart.

“Bitch, I’m gettin’ a lot of things.” I shoved my hand onto the shelf and dragged my hand along the side of it; pushing practically everything that was sitting on it into my basket.

“Hey, Viktor,” Chris said from where he was laying across it on his stomach amongst practically thousands of chocolate wrappers. He picked up his laptop from the blankets strewn everywhere and sat up, turning to me with a frown on his face. He looked concerned; much more concerned than he would be on any other day of the week.

“What?” I asked, interested in what he was going to say, “What is it? What happened?”

Chris squinted at his laptop, “Your video go demonetized.”

I stared at him; blinking once as my only recognition that I understood what he was getting at.

He decided to furthermore illustrate what was meant, “The vlog that we posted before we left America; according to YouHube it had ‘innapropriate content in it,’ because we had mentioned my sexuality in it.” Chris looked almost broken from the video being removed for something so minor.

“They fucking removed it because it was too gay?” I sat up in my chair, as I had been lounging back in it in relaxation, and slammed my hand down onto the chair’s arm. “They can’t fucking do that- that’s ridiculous.” Anger boiled up in my chest at the fact that such a thing had occurred. Why would they do that? It wasn’t like Chris’s sexuality was affecting anything about the content.

“Well,” Chris started. “Apparently they can now. All LGBT media on YouHube gets demonetized. We won’t make any money on videos that have swearing or ‘inappropriate’ content- like me mentioning the fact that I have a boyfriend.” He turned around his laptop to show me the screen; a look of sadness coming over his face, “With ad revenue, we’re only going to make about 11 dollars a month.”

I glared at the numbers, “because of how me make our videos?”

Chris nodded.

We sat in silence for a few minutes; me drumming my fingers on the desk out of aggravation, and Chris tapping away at his laptop.

“So what do we do?” I spoke up.

The other male glanced up from his laptop and sighed, “I don’t think there’s anything that we can do. If we change our content- our videos won’t be something that we’re happy with, and our fans won’t like them. They won’t be us... I don’t want to step away from who I actually am and make something that I don’t feel content with.”

I narrowed my eyes again and glared at the floor, trying to ignore the temptation to rant on and on about it while I wrote an angry email to YouHube headquarters.

Actually, no, that’s what I am going to do.

Snatching my laptop from where it was sitting on the floor near my chair, I opened it up angrily and almost snapped it in had in the process. I opened up my email account without a second thought.

To: YouHube Headquarters
From: [email protected]
subject: Demonetization CrisisTM

Content:

Dear YouHube,

YOU HOMOPHOBIC FUCKS.

Best regards, Viktor Nikiforov (youtube.com/viktornikiforov)

send

I am so going to give these hoes a bad review on Yelp.

The only one who’s going to be giving you a bad review on Yelp, is Mr. YouHube after he sees that email.

“We should make a YouHube video about this.”

“We can’t just address the issue out in the open, Viktor.”

“Let’s just make the gayest video on YouHube.”

Chris raised an eyebrow, “That’s actually not that bad of an idea.”

“But won’t they just remove it or demonize it?”

I frowned, but then smiled as an idea came to me.

“We’ll just have to disguise it.”

“Bitch, what the-”

...

“-fuck.”

I ignored Chris and slid on my helmet, looking directly into the camera, “Wow, I love American football- so heterosexual and not at all appealing to the homosexual agenda.” I smacked my ass and did a small turn, “Because there’s nothing gay about thirty-or-so men rolling around together- all sweaty and stuff.”

Biting back a laugh, Chris decided to join in on the fun and walked across the yard to join me. He was even wearing the tall rainbow socks that I had bought last year on a trip I took to Australia, “Yeah- but it’s not gay if it's on the field.” He came up behind me and smacked me on the ass as I did previously,“totally straight.”

“Yep, as fucking straight as Chris Pratt’s jaw-line.” I crossed my arms and walked to the center of the yard that I never happened to us to due the fact that I never left my home, “Chris Pratt is definitely the hottest male celebrity that I’ve ever met- but definitely in a no-homo way.”

“Yeah no homo.”

“I mean, I’d suck his penis but only for educational reasons, ya know? But in a homo way? No, not at all. ” I slapped the huge shoulder pads on both sides of my body and let out what only could be described as a ‘masculine’ sound. “Not for my own enjoyment, of course- hey, Chris, toss me that football from over there.” I clapped my hands and crouched down like I was actually just about to play.

Chris gasped and skipped out of the camera viewpoint; tossing the football over to me in possibly what could be described as the absolute worse throw I have ever seen in my pathetically short life, “Do you mean this football? OUR totally-straight-and-not-at-all-in-the-least-bit-appealing-to-the-”so-called”-homosexual-agenda football?”

I held up the football that depicted a rather large image of Cher slapped across it; being held up by tiny rainbow stickers that had come out of a child’s sticker-book. “Why yes, of course it is.” I got into a hiking position (which wasn’t probably even the name of it, but I didn’t know shit about sports so I was going to call it the “hiking position”) and flamboyantly swayed my butt up towards the sky as I made myself comfortable. “Now, we’re going to play some good ol’ American football, and we are gonna go tackle some sweaty men.”

Chris walked up behind me and yelled out “hike!”

I threw the ball between my legs and then ran down to the other side of my yard; holding my hands up as to catch the ball. He threw it to me just moments later and I collapsed onto the ground, pretending to be acting as if that had been the hardest thing I’ve ever done (which is was) and held up the ball.

“Wow!” I stood and threw the football on the ground, yelling out “yeah!” from my pure masculinity that was leaking from my pores by the gallon, “we gained six yards! Just like I gained six inches last night!” I winked into the camera.

“What could you possibly mean by that?” Chris said with a fake shocked voice; pretending to be a suspecting friend.

“Well, I stopped by Subway after practice and got a six-inch sub- obviously! Then I went home and drank a six pack of beer with my neighbors as I bitched about how disgusting homosexuality is! Like honestly, I can’t stand it! How dare they shove that shit into my face!” I fake scoffed and pretended to be entirely offended.

“Hey, did you see Stacey and Samantha make out yesterday?”

“Oh, fuck yeah I did that was totally hot.”

To: Mr. Nikiforov
From: YouHube Headquarters
Subject: Re:Demonetization CrisisTM

Dearest, Mr. Nikiforov,

Us here at YouHube are only required to do our job. As it now says in YouHube guidelines, we are now being told to remove ad revenue and age restrict videos containing “inappropriate” content. It is not at any of our wishes to prevent younger viewers from watching content with LGBT related themes, but it is something we all must follow now. Many of the workers here at YouHube do in fact consider themselves a part of the LGBT community, including myself. I just need to keep my job.

Also: We do what the fuck we want. And don’t think that we didn’t see all of the shade you threw at us in some of your other videos. If I wanted shade I would’ve worn sunglasses to work today.

Fight me.

Sincerely, the gayest of all gays (you now have competition).

Chapter Text

“Chris, get the fuck out of my house.”

“Why?”

“You’ve been playing the same four songs on repeat for the past three days; and you’ve been here for nearly a week now! Your boyfriend almost started hanging up Missing Person posters because you didn’t tell him you were coming to visit!”

“Okay, first of all, you love my playlist. Second of all, there are seven songs: not four, and last time I checked, I just so happened to tell Masumi that I was going on a trip!”

“I thought his name was Jeffrey or something!”

“What? No! I wouldn’t fucking date someone named Jeffery! I wouldn’t be able to go a day without an offensive Jeffrey Dahmer joke!”

“Well, I don’t fucking care what your boy toy’s name is! Jabba the Hut was extremely worried and he called me nearly having a panic attack because of you- and the last thing he needed as he called was you screaming the lyrics to Beautiful in the background!”

“But that’s a great song; his favorite!”

“It’s no one’s favorite with your screechy cat-like voice over top of it- and I’ve had to listen to that one song out of seven on repeat for nearly 72 hours!”

“Hey, don’t complain! I balanced it out with Dancing Queen and Dressed to Kill! I could’ve easily tortured you with something else!”

“Like what?! You played Never Gonna Give You Up for an entire hour straight- while singing along with the crippling inability to hit any of the notes!”

Eight Hours Earlier

“NeVer gonnA give you uuUUUp; never gOOna let YoOu DOWn, never gONNAAAruUUun aROUND anD, DeEsErt YOOUu.”

“At least I’m a better singer than you!”

“At least I can actually fucking sing a note and not have it sound like it wants to kill itself!”

“At least I’m not easily offended!”

“That’s coming from you: an actual Tumblr girl!”

“I’m artsy!”

“Bullshit! Your layout looks like straight up trash!”

“The only trash in here is the overflowing garbage bin that you’re too lazy to take out and that shirt you’re wearing!”

“THIS IS A PRETTY.ODD. TOUR SHIRT WITH THE ALBUM COVER ON IT I WILL ACTUALLY FUCK YOU UP. YOU WILL LOSE A LIMB I SWEAR TO GOD.”

“DO YOU WANNA GO.”

“YEAH BITCH LET’S GO”

Spoiler: they didn’t actually fight and eventually wound up watching The Making Of: MCR’s I’m Not Okay music video. Chris flew back home the next day and took his utterly homosexual playlist with him.

Three hours after Chris left, Viktor fund himself listening to Dancing Queen once again.

From: Yuuri-Sama!
Hey, just watched your newest video… It was hilarious. Tell Chris that he did a great job acting as a stereotypical straight dude.

To: Yuuri-Sama!
I will! I’m glad you liked it! YouTube has been demonetizing a lot of Chris’s content because he talks about LGBT related things and we decided to annoy YouTube with an upload as previous.

From: Yuuri-Sama!
Well, I really enjoyed your upload nonetheless. ttyl

Sudden fame usually changes people; I’m not going to sugar coat the reality of it. If you gained almost a hundred-thousand subscribers in one night alone, you’d most likely become arrogant and used to the attention incredibly fast, and if that suddenly decreased you would feel uncomfortable with both yourself and the sudden view and/or subscriber count. Many YouTubers that gain sudden fame lose all of their inspiration within a day or two, because they already run out of ideas. Really, it’s a sad process that many happen to go through.

I was fortunately not one of those people and neither was Yuuri. Instead of basking in the sudden attention or making videos to address the change, we continued life as usual. Our content didn’t cease creation and we never suddenly decided that it would be better if we quit YouTube. We continued on strong.

I was on my fifteenth episode of Breaking Bad with my mouth stuffed entirely full of potato chips when my phone buzzed with a YouTube notification.

There was only two people who I was subscribed two that earned the title of having me turn on their subscription bells: CrankThatFrank and Yuuri.

With that in mind, I quickly assumed for it to be CrankThatFrank reacting to more Emo Crack (as usual) or Yuuri having the general decency to finally upload after a month of silence. His YouTube channel was slowly becoming as dry as a desert and I wasn’t about that life. I needed content soon or I was going to fall down an endless pit of existential crises (trust me, it has happened before in the past on numerous occasions.)

I lazily reached for my phone which was sitting on the coffee table in front of my leather couch and looked at the most recent notifications. Since I had been sitting in the dark, and that it was five in the morning, I didn’t know what to expect and it took me a minute for my eyes to adjust to the bright light.

05:02
June 9, 2017

Recent messages:

cunt:
IT GOT DEMINITZED AGAUN I FUCKIN SWEAr to LORD YEEZUS

cunt:
IM READY 2 FITE A BITCH WE SHOUD GO TO THEIR HEADQUATERS AND COMPLAIDN

cunt:
I WILLNOT SIt iN SILENCE BITCH thiS AINTT NO CAR RADIO I NEED T O FIGHT

cunt:
PHICHT HAS A PLAN THAT LIL WEASEL

cunt:
WE GOI NEXT MONTJ DO YOU WANT to COME I MEAN wwe ALREADY BOUGht YOU YOUR PLANE TICET SO

YouTube:
Katsuki Yuuri has just just uploaded a video: “HAVE YOU HEARD HALSEY’S NEW ALBUM I AM QUAKING

My previously lazy manner suddenly switched for my usual energetic self and I sprung up from where I had been laying back against the cushions; throwing potato chips and the bag itself every where around the room. The quick movement reminded me slightly of the stomach ache I had that most likely came from eating so much horrible stuff when Chris was here- which had been bothering me for two days now.

Shouldn't have eaten all of that chocolate. Dumb ass.

But it was totally worth it.

Makkachin immediately perked up and scrambled his doggy bed over to the spilt food. He was obviously trying to eat it before I decided to pick it up as usual- because god knows that dog’s going to be as obese as me if he continues to have the same diet that I eat on the daily.

Before even deciding to respond to the shooketh Chris who had been texting me in a spam-like way, I opened up my YouTube act in record speed and quickly went to my recent searches. Katsuki Yuuri was obviously there and I made a huge fool of myself by mis-tapping the small icon and accidentally winding up on a video that had been located underneath it; the video that Phichit had made when both him and Chris were up to their usual shenanigans at Playlist.

I cursed once and then wound up back to where I had been previously, tapping on Yuuri’s icon with a certain fervor I was unfamiliar with from myself. Usually, I was extremely careful with my phone since I didn’t want it to shatter like I had the last time Yuuri decided to actually wake me up inside (can’t wake up) wake me up inside- SAVE ME, but today, all thoughts of caution flew straight out the window as I slammed the device down and rushed to my laptop for the ultimate viewing experience.

Opening up my laptop at the speed of light, I typed my password into the machine within a millisecond and waited for it to load back to life Bring Me to Life, Evanescence, which of course, just so happened to take forever since I was in a life or death situation. I could practically hear elevator music ringing in my ears as I threatened the inanimate object death if it didn’t speed up in the slightest.

Luckily, It unlocked as soon as I came down to my last straw and went to Yuuri’s channel which was bookmarked on my homepage. Instead of clicking on Yuuri’s icon, however, I clicked an edit of Tyler Joesph for ten hours on repeat. I almost jumped out of my chair from instead of seeing Yuuri’s YouTube homepage, I saw and heard an ear-rapey version of Tyler’s voice practically screaming:

“FROM THE toP OF the sTEPs I’M JUST GONNA BE LIKE: “‘SCUSE ME
COULD
YOU
PLEASE
LEAVE?””

Eventually, I sorted the ordeal out and found Yuuri’s icon of dedication.

I quickly learned that his new video was a Q&A.

And man did I love Yuuri’s Q&As.

”Hey guys! My Name’s Katsuki Yuuri and I’m back today with another YouTube video!” Yuuri smiled into the camera like he always did and offered the lens a small wave. He looked the same as he always did: slightly unruly and messy hair along with his dark glasses perched on his perfect little ski-jump nose.

“You guys have been asking a lot of a Q&A,” I found it strange that Yuuri was so different online than what he was in person. He was more open and honest online, while standing eye-to-eye with him, he was about as socially awkward and generally uncomfortable as me- which truly was relatable. “So today, I’m going to give you guys what you want- and since it’s pride month, I also said that you guys could ask as many things as you like relating to the LGBTQ+ community- so let’s start the questions!”

There was a small jumpcut to him holding up his phone and most likely scrolling through all of the tweets that had been sent at him. For some reason, I had not probably seen him ask for his fans to tweet a certain hashtag with the questions they had, and for obvious reasons, that made my heart deflate. And even start to hurt the slightest.

“Okay, so I asked you guys on Twitter to tweet me questions with the hashtag “AskYuuri” and man, did I get a lot this time” He laughed as he continued to scroll, “But I’m sorry that I won’t be able to read all of these because there are so many; and I’m really sorry that I can’t. In my next Q&A video I’ll try to come back and use more of these!” He smiled like a little angel and my entire chest seized up. He was just too pure for this world; too god-like. He wasn’t human. Human’s weren’t that adorable.

But Frank Iero though…

Okay, so some humans were that adorable, but there wasn’t anything that I could do to prevent that. There were just some people in this world that are actually angels. Obviously, there were many on the list… Frank Iero, Katsuki Yuuri, Phil Lester, Josh Dun, J-Law, Ryan Ross, etc, but besides there being a long list, they were a rare breed. Not many people made me stare at them for a prolonged period of time long, periolodically time and think: “Wow, they’re something special.”

Yuuri’s loud voice of him yelling, “okay, first question!” Was what really brought me out of my somewhat of a trance that had been held on the boy on the screen in front of me. I straightened up in my chair at his voice and watched eagerly for a sassy comment or funny remark that I would later find myself using for the rest of the week as an inside joke.

Last time Yuuri had said, “Tell us the truth about Northern Downpour,” I had said it to Chris every opportunity that I had to trigger him through phone call and text, and It even escalated to him calling my old house phone (which consisted of me not answering) and then leaving recordings of the Intro to Welcome to the Black Parade without any g-note trigger warnings. Even when I was watching one of his videos he said: “Viktor, this one goes out to you,” and hit a g-note on the synth that I had bought him for his birthday of the previous year.

I disliked the video and unsubscribed in a millisecond.

“What is your favorite TV show at the moment?” Yuuri read; also editing a copy of the tweet on the lower portion of the screen so all of his viewers could watch it. He thought for a moment before laughing his innocent, mother fucking angel-like laugh and I swear to god there needs to be a trigger warning before he does that because that just affected me more than a g-note.

“Uh, probably Shameless or Queer as Folk. A friend just got me into both of those shows when I went to Playlist live, and I really-”

I cut out everything Yuuri said after that. I had been the one to introduce Yuuri to both of those shows last month. It was me who had made a joke originating to how I wanted to go home and finish the third season of Shameless. It had been me, of all people, to have been watching Queer as Folk on my drunken ride home from the bar on the second or third day of PlayList. (Which Chris had documented.)

Yuuri skipped straight into the next question, “How do you know Viktor Nikiforov? Why were you in one of Chris’s vlogs with them?” He sighed, probably knowing that he was going to get the question and I felt my entire body tense with unwanted emotion. Was he angry? Dispersed? Sad? What was he thinking right now???? Was he going to tell everyone that I had an unhealthy obsession with his videos because I really couldn’t deal with how my fans would react at the moment.

“Actually, I met him at PlayList when he almost knocked over a pillar onto a group of toddlers, so that was great.” He laughed at the memory and then continued: “After that we just kind of hung out a little bit. He was familiar with my channel a little bit and then Chris invited us all out to get pizza. It was great and he was probably one of the nicest people I have ever happened to have the opportunity to meet.” He smiled gently.

I mean, who needs a healthy blood pressure level anyways.

I wheezed out a breath and clutched my aching heart. Am I actually having a heart attack right now??? I mean, I love Demi Lovato and all, but I really don’t want a heart attack right now after having to listen to it every other ten minutes when Chris had been visiting.

I actually might need to call a hospital.

Nah, it’s just from Yuuri’s smile.

Wait, my heart isn’t that low on my body.

Leave it to you to have actually no fucking knowledge of the human body.

A sudden, lurching, severe pain suddenly traveled down to the lower right side of my abdomen and I instantly knew that something was incredibly wrong. Stomach aches didn’t hurt this bad. Indigestion wouldn’t be strong enough to cause a pain like this. I clutched the area that ached and quickly stood up, rushing for the phone that was in my living room. I didn’t know what was going on, and honestly, it freaked me out.

Then call a fucking ambulance, you idiot.

But it’s probably just something minor and I’ll waste a bunch of money on ambulance fees and then my mother will bicker with me about it for hours on how I’m so melodramatic, and how I shouldn't make something big out of nothing-

Call. The. Fucking. Ambulance.

Good idea.

I quickly dialed 103 and pushed the phone up to my ear; my breathing growing harsh as the corners of my vision threatened my entire eye with complete darkness. Shaking my head to rid myself of the wavering vision and dangerous thoughts that came with it relating to “what if?”

An operator quickly answered and stated what was necessary to know that it was an emergency hotline. I wasted no time in all in flooding her ears with everything that I was feeling.

“Oh, um hi the lower part of my abdomen hurts like really bad and I don’t think it’s just another small stomach ache- so I really need an ambulance because I didn’t go to college and I don't know what’s going on I’m just a little boy from St. Petersburg and I’m close to freaking out because I don’t have health insurance.” I knew that my voice sounded extremely panicked but I didn’t care. I needed that woman to know that I wasn’t fucking around because this shit was not a fucking game.

The operator instructed me to remain calm and asked for me to state my address and name, I quickly gave it to her and she said that an ambulance was on it’s way that knew of my situation.

It arrived just shortly later and the EMTs forced me to lay down on a stretcher as they loaded me into the back of the ambulance. It seemed to me that they already knew that the issue was, but they needed to ask me a bunch of things and run a few quick tests before I arrived at the hospital.

“Okay, where does it hurt, Viktor?” The first woman asked. Her hair was pulled back so tightly into a bun that she looked like a walmart version of a drag queen trying to lift their eyes with tape and string. Her name was now tight face.

“Right here,” I placed a hand on the area and she quickly lifted up my shirt to check for anything that could be visible from the naked eye. I noticed that there was the slightest bit of swelling that hadn’t of been there before and I nearly sat up to gaze at it. Was I fucking pregnant with chocolate or something?”

The second EMT (a young man who looked like Captain America) observed the area and turned to look for something specific on the wall of the ambulance, “And how long has this area been hurting?” He turned back around with a stethoscope as Tight Face filled a needle with some type of liquid that I wasn’t familiar with.

I quickly did the math in my head, “two days.” I groaned as the pain increased dramatically.

Steve Rogers nodded and took my blood pressure and such, explaining as he did it that my condition may be a close to rupturing appendix and that I would have to get it removed in surgery if that was the case. I wasn’t even paying attention to the medical side of things as he explained it to me; all I heard was “rupture,” “infection,” and “symptoms such as death if I didn’t get it removed immediately” and that was enough to draw away my attention.

Tight face flicked the side of the syringe of the needle in her hand and glanced over at me, “Sir, are you taking any medication as of the moment? Things such as Xanax? Any medication at all?”

“No, I’m not taking any medication.”

“Any allergies?”

“I swell up like a balloon if a touch a peanut.”

“Great,” no more questions were asked. She just stabbed my arm with the fucking foot-long needle without warning.

Chapter Text

According to the surgeon that had performed on me after I was admitted into the hospital, my operation was a complete success. With no complications or issues throughout both the operation and now, I was alive and well and explaining to thirty-eight-million people why I had been seen by a fan being pushed into surgery just hours earlier while demanding that I wasn’t going to wear one of their disgusting hospital gowns because It made me look like a dollar-store hooker.

Needless to say, the internet had blown up with thousands of hashtags dedicated to me. For example, a new Tumblr blog had been dedicated to me and the video someone had taken as I was being pushed through the hospital doors saying that I didn’t want to look like a dollar store hooker as a paramedic tried to assure me that hospital gowns were something absolutely necessary to wear. Everyone responded to the video as in: “Wow, he’s so out of it and traumatized that he’s practically gone insane.” And yes I’ve going insane, but not because of my appendix issue. Over two decades of the internet can do that to you easier than you’d expect.

Celebrities that I had never met in my entire life started tweeting things such as #WeLoveViktor and #PrayForViktor to mooch off of the attention, and if I wasn’t sewn up like a zipper on my lower abdomen I would’ve probably laughed at how they tried to reach out to my audience to gain attention. There were some comments that were sincere and of genuine concern about what happened, but then again there were few tweets that looked as if Donald Trump had wrote them.

I was also (not) shocked to see that conspiracy theories over the whole ordeal had already been created into blog posts and YouTube videos across the internet. A few of my viewers came to the conclusion that I had been in a car accident, while others thought that I overdosed on some type of drug through non-prescription. There were even the few that said I had been taken into space and probed by an alien and probed. Um… bitch what? Girl, I love Star Trek and all but really? Points for creativity but I think a forty minute long YouTube video was a bit over the top and unnecessary.

In addition to the strange things that had occurred after I was admitted, instead of calling my actual Mother and Father they had called both Chris and Yuuri. But wait, I have an explanation before you cringe any more like I know that you are doing now.

You see, last year me and Chris had an on-going joke of calling each other Mom and Dad- and yes I know that’s fucking weird but shhh, it was fucking hilarious at the time so fight me. It even went as far as changing the occupations of each other in our contacts to Mom and Dad. He was Mom, I was Dad.

I don’t really have an explanation for Yuuri’s title.

He was just Daddy material and I saw an opportunity I didn’t want to miss.

They had called Chris first because they knew that a mother would most likely be the most sporadic over the incident and told him that I was in the hospital and in surgery. The lady at the front desk (who came in to check on me periodically because her son was a viewer- bless her heart) told me that Chris had actually freaked out at what had been said and was already on a flight over. She also said that he (my “mother”) screamed ”Viktor, you fucking dumb ass!” at the top of his lungs- like it had actually been my fault that my appendix decided to nope-the-fuck-out on me.

It wasn’t my fault that the little fucker was a flaky son-of-a-bitch.

The only thing that’s flaky in here is your fucking dry-ass scalp. Your dandruff issues are actually disgusting.

I am actually in a hospital bed right now. You’re making fun of a crippled person at the moment.

I am you. Suck a dick.

No complaints here.

Yuuri, on the other hand, had immediately asked a million times if he needed to fly over (he completely ignored the fact that who called him stated “Hello, this is the father of Viktor Nikiforov, I presume?” In the best English she could use). Of course, I wasn’t completely opposed with the idea, but then again I knew that plane tickets were extremely expensive and that it would be a pain if I had actually said yes.

While Yuuri wasn’t going to show up because I finally convinced him to stay home, but Chris was going to be here tomorrow to yell at me over how I hadn’t of called a hospital sooner or said something about how much my stomach was aching to him- even though I know if I had mentioned it when he was still at my house, he would’ve made a few jokes about me being on my period.

I sighed through my nose and held up the remote control that my nurse had brought me that morning. There was actually nothing on TV at the moment; I mean, if old Billy May infomercials counted, then yes, there was a lot on at the moment. Only, I had heard “Hi, Billy Mays here!” Ten times in the past five minutes and I already felt like ripping out my eardrums. (No shade to my queen, though.)

Tossing down the remote onto my blanketed lap, I sunk down into the uncomfortable bed until all that could be visible from the dozen of pillows I had forced my nurse to bring me was nothing other than my silver hair that needed re-dyed as soon as fucking possible because my disgusting blonde roots were now coming out and I wanted to cry from how trashy I looked.

My eyes closed in favor of me catching the tiniest bit of sleep, but was quickly interrupted by a small knock coming from the entrance of my hospital room.

I didn’t move; pretending to be fast asleep- that was, until I heard the voice of my actual mother yell: “DO YOU EVEN UNDERSTAND HOW FUCKING WORRIED I WAS WHEN CHRIS CALLED ME THIS MORNING?” That kicked me straight into gear as I popped up from where I had been laid out under the covers.

“Oh, um… hi?”

“That isn’t going to suffice for an explanation, young man.”

"Viktor, I know that you're dying and everything, but can you not post anything about this online yet so I can use it as clickbait in my next vlog?"

"Wow, you're really such a good friend. Truly top-of-the-line, Chris."

“There’s nothing to do here in this boring-ass hospital,” I groaned as my nurse came in to check my IV and vitals. Tossing the remote down onto the bed next to me, I sighed and threw an arm over my eyes to block out the surely grotesque face she was going to pull after I swore so openly in front of her. In my defense, there actually was nothing to do in here. I mean, you would watch YouTube or Netflix or even scroll through Twitter, but I wanted to actually get up off of my feet and actually do something (which was a rare occasion in itself.)

In the back of my mind, I was silently asking to be put into a children’s hospital because at least I could go hang out with some kids and try to cheer them up so they didn’t have to stare at blank walls all day. I wanted to do something I would enjoy, and as of now I had absolutely nothing.

She snorted at my blunt statement and looked at the clipboard my doctor had left at the end of my bed; writing down something before walking over to my IV -to apparently do nothing- and then follow that up by smacking my arm with the end of her pen.

“Wha- abuse!” I yelled, sitting up and rubbing the spot she had hit.

My nurse only rolled her eyes in response and gestured to a wheelchair that had been left in the corner of my room, “We could always go on a walk throughout the hospital and check out the food court or chapel.” The way she suggested it sounded as if she was asking if she could get me out of the room for a few minutes so she wouldn’t have to listen to my never-ending complaining.

“But I want to go alone…” I groaned, droaning out the ‘alone’ so my message would be clear. I wanted to go by myself without the aid of a paid nurse. What sounded good, was going down to the chapel to ask god ”If everything happens for a reason what did I do to get you so pissed off that you apparently needed to punish me by throwing a surprise party in my appendix?” or just eat the altar bread or the communion wine.

She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, “I could, perhaps, get you a mobile scooter for you to use- but you have to fucking promise me that you won’t do anything stupid.”

“Me? Stupid? Honey, not my gay ass-”

“Mr. Nikiforov…” She interrupted, sighing again out of pure aggravation, “I could loose my job if they find out that I assisted you in finding one since you do not have the proper clearance. Do I make myself clear? If anyone asks you how you got the scooter, say that you stole it from the old woman down the hall in 302. You will not even breathe my name or something quite peculiar could just so happen to slip into your IV bag, and bye bye.”

I shrunk back away from her. Is this what a night shift does to a nurse after being on her feet all day. “Crystal,” I spoke with a small shudder. “Scout’s honor; I shall not tell a living soul how I acquired the old lady scooter or you’ll turn into Beloved Actor and Comedian Bill Cosby and drug the absolute fuck out of me. I understand completely.” As if to sate her on that fact, I crossed my heart twice and held up my hand as a boy scout would.

Ten minutes later, I was being assisted into a red old-person scooter to drive around the hospital in. It smelled of mints and was just a level higher than a Walmart scooter, but I was finally i>free. I could drive where I wanted, when I wanted, fuck bitches, get money, it was the life. I mean, it went an amazing speed of only 5 mph but damn I was proud of the little fucker.

My nurse hurriedly tried to explain how to operate one as if I was an idiot (like I had never used one before when I got lazy shopping around Target when I went to the U.S.) as I slowly tried to scoot away from her to block out her annoying voice.

Eventually, she gave up and walked away; muttering something along the lines of “I hope you drive it off of a fucking staircase- but the joke’s on her. I had driven one off of a mall staircase before and I only sustained minor injuries (can’t say the same for the people that had been on the staircase, however.) But that was a great day. Chris hadn’t of been driving one that day like he usually did, and he made up an excuse to a mall cop that confronted us that I was his son who was paralyzed from the waist down that didn’t understand the controls yet.

As soon as the mall cop had called bullshit, I threw a huge fit on how that was a hate crime to disabled people and Chris had to pretend to also be displeased even though he was practically laughing his ass off on how I had stood up from the wrecked scooter to confront the police officer.

That was a fun night in county jail.

“I’m out!” I yelled as soon as my nurse was out of earshot, pressing the forwards button on the scooter and zipping down the halls at the amazing speed of 3 MPH (which every able bodied person could easily walk). Of course, I received a few strange looks from others as I was hunched over as if I was on a high speed adventure, but fuck all of them. They had no idea how liberating it felt to be actually able to move around on my own accord.

Hospitals need to actually start investing in these for kids in hospitals because they would actually have so much fun with them.

A woman in a full doctor’s uniform stared at me blankly as I “zoomed” past her; eyes following me for the entire time I was going down the hall. At her rudeness, I turned around and yelled: ‘aye, you gotta problem, miss?’ in the most Boston-like accent I could muster, and she immediately turned away from my speedy form.

I smirked and faced forwards again, “that’s right; bow down to-”

Suddenly, I was running straight into a cart full of doctor supplies that had been wheeled out of storage just moments previous.

Bedpans flew every which direction and clattered against the tiled flooring. Stethoscopes, hospital gowns, and boxes of rubber gloves also joined the party and ever made it of their best interest to land directly on my head.

A nurse ran towards me and he reached out to turn off the scooter, but I yelled “HATE CRIME” before he could get to it and he immediately backed down; settling instead for picking up some of the things that had scattered every which direction on the floor- including “jelly” (bitch, we all know that shit is lube; don’t try to hide it with your PB&J bs) for prostate exams.

Cringing at the poor fate for the male, I took a quick once over his body and both of my eyebrows raised practically to my hairline.

Damn… do you wanna give me a prostate exam, though?

Nope. Those thoughts are a little to homosexual for me at the moment and I’m a woman on a mission.

“Whoops,” was my only apology as I scooted around the wreckage caused by me.

The Chapel was unfortunately basic. While I had been expecting early Gerard Way to be standing at the podium while singing Helena, I was shocked to see that not everything fell back to an MCR music video and scooted my pathetic ass to the front.

There was only one other person in the chapel- who was a middle aged woman who walked in straight after me with a few containers of hummus and salsa- along with salt and a lime. She was what appeared to be a cancer patient here due to both her shaved head and shirt that read: “I’m kicking cancer’s ass” in harsh, bold lettering. She was already of royalty status to me.

She nodded in my direction as a greeting and walked to the front of the Chapel to where they had the communion sat out for people of that faith in particular. The woman laid out all of the things she had brought and opened them up; first putting salt on all of the altar bread before adding a bit of lime to it for flavor. She didn’t even cast a concerned glance in my direction for her actions, she just dipped the body of Christ to the salsa and ate it without a single fuck to give. I guess cancer turned you into a savage who was free to do whatever you like because you’re beating cancer’s ass- and you go girl. Live your dreams. Do what the fuck you want- God and Jesus are cheering you along on the sidelines.

Needless to say, I joined her moments later and we had an hour long conversation about our dogs and obsession with Chris Pratt.

Chapter Text

“I brought some shit to do,” was the first thing Chris said as he burst into my hospital room; four plastic bags stuffed to the brim on his left hand, and a cardboard holder of four Starbucks drinks in his right. He slammed the door shut with his hip and made his way over to where I was still laying in my hospital bed- now wearing my favorite, black, emo sweater that summed up my personality extremely well at the current moment.

I clasped my hands together in front of my chest almost as if I was praying, “You brought Starbucks. Bless you. These cunts won’t let me leave the building.” Chris handed me the entire tray and I took three of the drinks, which left the last one for Chris.

“You fucking took all of the good ones, asshole,” he snatched the last cup from the tray which was his least favorite type: plain black coffee.

“Well, my fucking appendix almost popped like some shit from Dr. Pimple Popper so, fight me. I win the contest of, “Most Shitty Life.””

Chris ignored my statement and set all of the bags in the chair on the opposite end of my shitty hospital mattress. He looked at the drink in his hand for a few seconds before deciding to man up and drink the extremely bitter liquid. The entire time that he took a long sip, he was cringing as hard as someone would if a Razor scooter karate chopped them in the shin.

I managed to roll my eyes at his over dramatic tendencies and grabbed one of the bags to peer inside at its contents, “Not everything is going to taste fruity and gay as your personality; only things that I can drink can taste like that because it matches me the best.”

“If you were to eat something like your personality, it would be Vegemite: salty and a pit of dark despair.”

“Wow, nice- you brought cinnamon toast crunch? They sell those over here in Russia?”

“No, I stopped by your Mom’s house earlier to grab a few things and she has a hidden cupboard full of practically a million boxes of these- but they’re only the shitty off brand kind that are called “toasted square cinnamon-flavored squares.” All I can say, is that the mice in her house are probably fucking obese as shit.”

“Hm, sounds about right… and an Ouija board?” I pulled the board game out of the plastic bag and raised a questioning brow at him. Chris was a strong believer in the supernatural, and it was a bit strange for him to buy me something like this to entertain me, even though he was definitely terrified of it in every sense of the word. The last time that I had even mentioned one of these things, Chris spent the next five months burning sage on a daily basis and walking through his house reciting verses from the bible- and he doesn't even believe in god.

Chris stared at the game before taking a sip from his coffee, “a while ago, you said that you always wanted to fuck around with one with me but I was too much of a pussy to do it. But now, I’ve finally decided that I’m going to do it- even if I’ll be depressed for the next few months because I’m too scared to even shower alone.”

“Oh, Honey, we all know you don’t shower alone,” I too, sipped my drink innocently.

“You know what, fuck you. Stop slut shaming me when you used to have a fan account dedicated to Chris Pine-”

“That’s an era I’m not proud of, and you know what? It’s CHRIS PINE, OKAY, HE’S SO HOT YOU HAVE NO IDEA-”

My sentence was quickly cut off by a small, quiet knock originating from the door; practically the sound was non-existent, but since I was on so many drugs, my spidey-senses were fucking tingling as all hell and everything was heightened beyond belief.

I glanced at the doorway, prepared to tell my nurse that she needed to quit coming to my room every five seconds because no. I wasn’t so mentally unstable that I needed to be watched constantly in fear that I’d either break something, or that I’d end up killing myself from doing something stupid. Only, it wasn’t my nurse who was probably one of my neighbors from childhood that would yell at me and chase me off of their porch after I covered the entire thing with duct tape, and it was instead Katsuki Yuuri.

Chris immediately went full stereotypical-gay-mode and ran to hug the Japanese male while I sat their in complete shock and watched as my life flashed before my eyes, and I let out an almost inaudible squeak as they spoke their greeting to one-another whilst hugging.

“Oh, my god, Yuuri, how are you? You made it just in time for us to play with an ouija board!” He ran over to the other male and hugged him, followed by kissing him on both of his cheeks. At times I occasionally forget that Chris is a very “hands-on” person, and he will kiss people with little to no remorse whatsoever. That wasn’t necessarily a good thing, and his boyfriend was less than impressed by his constant actions, but it was just something that made Chris… Chris.

“FYI, Chris is scared to fucking death of them,” I said in hopes of alerting Yuuri of my current position- and oh yes bitch, that’s right, look over at me and feed me that fucking attention like the whore that I a- aaand, I’m staring like the weird-ass emo that I am on the inside and he’s looking back at me like he knows exactly what I’m thinking- and god that would be terrifying if he actually went on in my head.

Yuuri was wearing what could only be described as the cutest outfit ever. Apparently, he looked extremely fucking well in yellow, because he was wearing a yellow sweater that made me want to hug him, tom-boyish jeans with tears running up the legs, and black, vintage Vans. He looked like a low-key fuccboi, but he was low-key enough about it that he would get away with it and I would still fall to my knees for him.

You’re such a little whore.

I didn’t mean that but if that’s what my inner thoughts immediately assume, that says a lot about me as a person.

“How are you feeling, Viktor?” Yuuri questioned, walking to the edge of my bed and resting his hand on the small safety wall that was set up on the side of the hospital bed (put into place because I rolled off of the bed four times in one night and succeeded in breaking two machines that I now had to pay for, including accidentally knocking an entire tray of food onto the floor).

I smiled at him and attempted to make my voice sound a little bit deeper than it actually was for that attractive, husky affect as I responded, “Yeah, I’m feeling much better now. My body is no longer trying to implode on itself- but I honestly wouldn’t blame it if it still was trying to do so.” Only, that “husky” effect didn’t exactly work and my voice cracked extremely badly as I said “so,” and I ended up sounding like a pubescent teen boy doing an annoying girl impression.

Yuuri laughed at what was hopefully my joke, “Well, that’s good. How much longer until you get out?” He adjusted his glasses, only for them to slip back down his nose and I had to practically curl my nails into my palms so I didn’t reach out and adjust them myself because that was most likely crossing a few boundaries.

I thought for a moment before I snapped my fingers in realization: “I have absolutely no fucking idea.”

“That’s pleasant,” Chris interrupted, pulling the plastic covered board game from where it was sat on the end of my bed right next to a box of off-brand Cinnamon Toast Crush (more like SINamon Toast Crunch because it just so happens to be in my presence and we’re just about to crack open some satanic shit.). He ripped off the plastic covering and simultaneously tore it to practical shreds in the process.

“Let’s be glad that's not a condom.”

“I’m a homosexual male, Viktor.”

“M-preg fics, Chris; I’ve read too many.”

“I didn’t need to know that.”

“I think you did.”

Yuuri was obviously becoming uncomfortable as our conversation droned on into more and more matters of m-preg fics and shit of that matter. Chris and I eventually quit out endless remarks against one-another and set out the board game. We got once again into a small argument about needing candles since I said that ghosts were extra as fuck when it came to what they needed to appear, and Chris said they could probably not give less of a crap. The bickering eventually ended when Yuuri decided to go buy a candle from the hospital gift shop down on the first floor.

“What scent did you get?"/p>

Yuuri looked at the front of the Yankee Candle, “Lavender.”

I gasped, ‘that’s not going to work. Lavender is too basic for me, I refuse to light that candle.”

“Do you want to be punched in the fucking face?" Chris said a bit too loudly since he gained the attention from a passing group of nurses, and he was thus shushed incredibly loudly by the one who tended to me on the daily basis.

“What’s our safe word?

“I FUCKING HATE YOU.”

Since none of us understood how to get an Ouija board to work properly, we all decided that it was time for Chris to google how to use one on WIkiHow- which was always the most reliable source to get information off of, obviously, and wasn’t one of the most strange and shady websites to date.

“It says that we need more than one person… blah blah blah, we already did that…. Remove all distractions from the room- Viktor, get out.”

“You know what, piss-off mate.”

“It also says that we need to turn our phones off and remove them from the room if we want the best results.”

I grabbed my phone from where it was sitting in my lap and followed that by clutching it to my chest, “Well fuck that. I was planning on filming this and like hell that I’m going to miss Phil Lester tweeting anything- or the next TOP album dropping. These ghosts can fuck off for all I care if they have to be so picky about the situation they have to be in. They're gonna get what they’re gonna get, and they’re gonna deal with it.”

Chris ignored me and continued scrolling through the web page as Yuuri sat the Ouija board on the floor close to the center of the room, “well, we all have to be sitting down, so get your ass over here, Viktor, because you no longer have four needles in your arm connecting you to all of your machines.”

I shivered at the thought of the needles that had been in my arm after surgery and other shit like that, but nonetheless crawled over the edge of my bed as slowly and carefully as humanly possible. The last thing that I wanted to do was tear oven the zipper-like shit on my chest and have all of my organs fall out or something dramatic like that. Surely, that would easily ruin my entire day.

Yuuri and I sat down onto the floor around the board as Chris continued onwards with the instructions, “so we need-” he paused and looked at the area around us. “Wait, where the fuck is the planchette?”

I stared at him blankly as Yuuri shrugged, “what the absolute fuck is that? A weapon?”

Chris looked incredibly annoyed at my lack of knowledge, “No! It’s the little triangle thing that the ghosts drag around the board. Like how you get dragged on Twitter by your fans practically constantly.”

“THE LIBRARY IS NOT OPEN, CHRIS. THIS IS NOT YOUR TIME TO READ ME.”

“Found it,” Yuuri said as he held the planchette up. He wasn’t necessarily trying to show us that he found it, he was more so trying to break up and and Chris’ constant arguments and start the game before we had a full-on cat fight.

We eventually all sat down around the Ouija board and set up my phone to film it (because I didn’t have my nice camera, and iPhone 6s weren’t that bad for filming things) and got ready to play. We all set our fingers on the planchette, said the shit we needed to because the spirits apparently wouldn’t come if you didn’t say it, and circled the board one time for each of us.

“Who wants to ask the first question?” Chris asked us as he stared down at the board with a slightly scared look in his eyes.

“Well, you just asked a fucking question,” I offered.

“Is anyone here?” Yuuri finally decided to ask- which was once again there to break up our argument.

We all sat in silence as we stared at the unmoving planchette. And obviously, nothing was happening. It was probably because we didn’t have the candles that I wanted, and it was daylight outside besides the shut curtains and sheets thrown over them, but who could be sure. All of these ghosts were probably used to being treated like queens since they got everything that they wanted every time they were, quote, “summoned,” and honestly, they just had to realize that they weren’t going to with us.

“What’s your name?” I asked, looking down at the triangle.

Slowly, but very surely, the planchette slid across the board to come to a stop on “yes.”

No one dared to move, or even breathe for that matter.

Yuuri broke the silence.

“Great, we summoned a retarded demon.”

”Yuuri!” Chris scolded. “You can’t just call a demon retarded- you shouldn’t even use that word!” He went to move his fingers away from where they were resting on the playing-piece, but suddenly, the triangle flew to spell out “W-H-Y.”

“That’s the same thing I ask myself everyday,” I supplied, trying to make the scary situation less scary by adding horrible humor. Apparently it worked, to my surprise, and I thus made Yuuri laugh and have Chris smack my arm in his way of responding.

“V-I-C-T-U-R-N-I-C-K-I-F-O-R-O-U-V-E”

I almost flipped the board at response, “that’s not even fucking close, you little bitch.”

“Don’t call the spirit a little bitch.”

“A-G-R-E-E-U-R-T-H-E-L-I-L-B-I-T-C-H”

“No. Just no. Please stop. I cannot believe that you’re treating me like this. What have I ever done to you to deserve this,” I took my hands off the planchette and stood up from the board to walk over to the bed again to grab the food that Chris had brought me. Both him and Chris were now complaining at me ditching the game, but the ghost had singled me out, and I wasn’t about that life.

After Chris realized that I wasn’t going to come back to play anymore, they continued with asking the board different questions that they needed to know the answers too.

“Tell us the truth about Northern Downpour!” Chris demanded, throwing himself forward and speaking almost directly on the triangle.

“T-H-E-G-O-V-E-R-M-E-N-T-K-N-O-W-S-T-H-E-T-R-U-T-H”

I shoved a handful of off-brand Cinnamon Toast Crunch into my mouth, “I bet in the center of Area-51, there’s a plaque that reads “Ryden is Real.” That’s what the government has been hiding for all of these years. Watch, in a week I’ll go missing and they’ll find my body in the bottom of a lake because I just revealed their deepest, darkest secret. The government isn’t hiding aliens.. They’re hiding the truth.”

Yuuri stared at me blankly, “On a scale of one to Viktor Nikiforov, how extra are you?”

“You literally have no idea how extra Viktor is, Yuuri. I’ve been forced to be around him for the past few years. You can consider yourself lucky,” Chris held out one of is hands and I administered a handful of the cereal into his palm for his to eat as they continued to play with the demonic game.

“I don’t know if I support this game- like she interesting and shit but I don’t know if I really like her.”

“D-O-N-T-L-I-K-U-E-I-T-H-E-R”

“Ha, learn how to spell; idiot.”

“W-A-N-T-2-F-I-G-H-T”

“Wow, I’m quaking just thinking about fighting you. The least you could do is tell us some information that we’ll actually use.”

The triangle flew from word to word,“I-M-R-O-X-X-X-Y-A-N-D-R-E-W-S-A-N-D-I-M-H-E-R-E-T-O-M-A-K-E-I-T-C-L-E-A-R”

We all screamed.

“NOT TODAY SATAN,” I practically dashed to the exit as Chris threw the board at the wall.

“YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO RUN OR MOVE LIKE THAT WITH YOUR STITCHES,” Yuuri yelled after me, continuing to yell as loud as I was.

"WE HAVE A GAY GHOST ON OUR HANDS."

Chris stood up from the floor and ran across the room to crash into hospital bed, “IT’S A ROXXXY FAN. WE HAVE TO BURN IT TO GET RID OF THE SPIRIT.” He ripped my sheets from my bed and proceeded to wrap the board in them.

“PUT THOSE SHEETS BACK, YOU BITCH. I CAN’T AFFORD TO REPLACE THEM AGAIN.”

“STOP YELLING. IF YOU DON’T StoP I’LL SING THE REST OF ROXXXY’s VERSE.”

“YOU WOULDN’T DARE.”

“DO YOU REALLY WANT TO TAKE THAT RISK?!”

Chapter Text

I don’t exactly know how long I had been sitting on the edge of my hospital bed, staring at where Yuuri was sleeping on one of the chairs. On the other side of the room parallel to him, Chris was sleeping practically upside down on the sofa; his legs being thrown over the back and with his torso dangling off. A long string of saliva was dangling out of his mouth and just inches from touching the floor, which was already cringe enough as it was minus his pedo-beard.

Sighing happily, I rested my head in the palm of my hand and smiled at where Yuuri was sleeping in a somewhat normal sleeping position (unlike Chris). He was too adorable for me to even process at times, and this was one of those times for the most part. He was curled up in a ball on the base of the plush-lined chair; his head laying over the armrest and a small pillow. Enwrapped in his arms was the yellow-sweater he had worn the day previous.

The sight was pleasing to say the least, but all of my happiness immediately drained from my soul as I realized that it was quite chilly in the hospital room, and Yuuri did not have a blanket- and he wasn’t wearing the sweater he brought for the prior day. If this were to continue throughout the rest of the night, he would obviously catch a cold or something else even more serious.

Looking around the room, I scanned for a spare blanket that my nurse may have left some other time. Obviously, there was none. Mostly because my nurse had a deep, burning hatred deep inside of herself for me -which I felt the same way towards her occasionally because I would've much rather had the one really attractive male nurse with the scrubs that were too tight- and she would never do anything to help me. That was just the cold-blooded truth about her and her icy personality that froze her features in a permanent scowl.

With no blankets to loan to Yuuri for warmth, I quickly realized that I had both a sheet and a comforter on my bed that the hospital supplied. Of course, this was an obvious observation; everyone on the planet could rightfully assume that that would be on my mattress because it was probably one of the most basic things to know- but I only took it to mind because while Yuuri was probably freezing over in his little chair, I had two blankets and would probably end up kicking them both off in the night anyways.

I grabbed the comforter laid across my legs and bunched it up into what was a mediocre-looking ball before I stood from my hospital bed and hobbled my way over to the sleeping form of Yuuri. Even walking seemed to pull at my stitches, and with each and every step, I felt a strong sting from where the incision to remove my appendix had been made, but I quickly ignored it to focus on the main task at hand. I could easily deal with this small bit of pain. Plus, sitting around ll day was becoming boring, and I hadn’t walked around for a quite a long time (if a few days could be considered a “long time.” I’ve had movie marathons where I didn’t move for almost a week.)

Un-scrunching the hospital-issued blanket, I draped it over the curled up ball that was Yuuri and watched as he soon adapted to the warmth that the fabric supplied. Adorably, his fingers wrapped around the edge of the blanket and he pulled it up over his nose self-consciously; snuggling under the blue, itchy comforter as if it was the most comfortable thing in the entire universe.

I felt my heart clench painfully tight at his display- only, this time, it wasn’t my appendix acting up or (seeming to be) my frequent heartburn. He was simply just too cute for my body to even begin to process. It was almost as if he wasn’t even human… more so, an angel sent down from the heavens to bless everyone who happened to walk across his path.

Yes, that was a reasonable response. Because if god were to send an angel to watch over anyone, it would clearly be me, of all of the people on this planet to select from. He could’ve chose the man who lived across the street from me growing up who had an obsession with everything crosswise (and even had them tattooed under his eye where a teardrop tattoo would be located) but no, he thought, “wow, this kid really needs some Jesus in his life. Yuuri, go down there and fuck up his blood-pressure.”

Oh, honey, don’t give yourself that much credit. If this wild story were actually the case, he would’ve probably been trying to send Yuuri somewhere else and fucked up severely on the delivering process.

“Bitch, you don’t know shit.”

You’re not even religious and now you’re relating Yuuri to the bible and a religious icon.

Yuuri stirred in his sleep at my comment but didn’t seem to awake. For a few seconds, I forgot to breathe as I realized that I would’ve been talking to myself (more like my inner demons) and Yuuri would’ve caught me. He turned over onto his other side -still in his ball of cuteness- and breathed out heavily before his breathing returned to it’s prior state.

Wow, I wish I was in the world he was in.

I hacked out the air I had been holding in and turned back to the lumpy mattress that I would have to sleep in as soon as I seemed to catch my breath. It wasn’t the best place to sleep, but it was actually quite comfortable as soon as you moved around one of the lumps in the padding (it was probably a human body I’ve seen American Horror Story) and I had gotten away with sleeping on it the few nights I had already been here, but it was just so unappetizing to look at. Hell, my back was already aching at the thought of spending another night on the thing.

Eventually, I settled on the fact that if anyone were to spend another night on that thing, their body would resent them for the rest of their life and curse them with aches and pains that would last until well past death. Your back would probably rather break itself then have to spend over eight hours attached to the body-bag that someone deemed a “mattress.”

That’s why I moved Chris’ unconscious body over and onto it and slept on the comfy sofa instead.

According to my doctor the following morning, I was being discharged around noon that same day, and I wouldn’t have to return to the hospital for a week until they did a check-up on the stitches.

Chris was unfazed (he was in too much pain from sleeping on the body-bag to even acknowledge the doctor’s words) and only continued to rub at his lower back and complain. Of course, he complained with how I had moved hi in the middle of the night -which my doctor got really mad at, because he said that it could’ve ripped a few stitches and gotten the area infected (I didn’t see what the big deal was)- but I easily came up with the excuse of the fact that since I was in a healing process, I needed the comfiest area to get my beauty rest.

“Beauty rest? Rest, maybe. But I think beauty is too much of an overstatement,” Chris retaliated as he crossed his arms but then cringed at how the acton pulled at his sore shoulder and spine.

I gasped, clearly offended, and completely ditched the conversation with my doctor on how I would have to fill out some paper-work for the hospital and be careful for a month or two with physical exercise. “How dare you? I’m in a very sensitive part of my life right now with everything going on and then you think you have the right to call me ugly? Bitch, have you looked in a mirror in the past decade? You have a classic pedo-stache that needs shaved ASAP, and you have the audacity to wear those hideous glasses? Unbelievable.”

Now it was Chris’ turn to be the offended one, “Hey! I’m proud of these glasses! I found them in a thrift store and they’re vintage! I had to dig through practically a hundred boxes of clothes that smelled like formaldehyde until I found these!”

“Vintage, huh? They look like they belonged to Jeffrey Dahmer, Chris! That’s not something to be proud of!”

“You’re the bitch that looks like John Wayne Gacy every time he takes a flash photo! One word, sweetie: flashback!”

At that exact moment, Yuuri returned from the bathroom and didn’t even seem at all surprised at the fact that Viktor and I were arguing once again. It was quite a familiar thing to happen nowadays. We were arguing over something that was quite ridiculous (we all know that I was right about his glasses, and that I was beautiful -even though that Chris wouldn’t give me that because he was in a petty mood) and had no importance in the long run. However, it was simply just something that made up a part of our friendship. Nothing that we ever said carried any real heat to it. We had been friends for quite too long for something to come in between us like that.

My doctor didn’t really seem how to deal with out argument over our serial-killer-like references of each other's faces since he couldn’t really come up with anything to stop our fight. Yuuri was a it more familiar with us, so he easily came up with the resolution of sitting in between us on the couch.

“When will Viktor be able to be discharged?” Yuuri said in perfect Russian, which made me practically choke on air. Not because it was surprising… but because he sounded so fucking attractive as he did it. He didn’t stutter over his words or make any rookie mistakes… he sounded almost as if he had grown up in Russia his entire life.

Even my doctor was slightly taken back, “Um… today. You missed our earlier conversation, but he will be able to leave before noon today. I just need a few sheets of paperwork to be signed by him and whoever is going to be with him after discharge. I would assume that would be you or his other friend, Chris.”

“I am not having Chris sign any legal forms over my health. That’s like handing a gun to a blind man and asking him to aim at something.”

Yuuri turned to me, and for the first time in my entire life, glared in my direction. He then said in English: ”Quit being petty and just have him sign the paperwork when it comes time for it. I’m not going to have to sit around and listen to your complaints over something this stupid. It’s just a piece of paper that says that you’re in shape to go home.”

Wow, that was hot.

I like mama Yuuri.

He’s taking control of the situation and making us direct all of our attention to him and no one else. That’s a total top thing to do...

Yes please.

“Viktor!” Yuuri yelled, smacking my arm lightly to regain my attention, as it seemed he had lost it from me fantasizing about things that were never going to happen- no matter how much I wanted them too. “Are you even listening to me or your doctor? This is important information that you need to know!”

Ooo, Viktor, he’s getting comfortable enough around you to be physical…

I cleared my head of my incredibly distracting thoughts and nodded, acting like I had been listening the entire time, “Yes, I have been paying attention. Now, please tell me more, Doctor.” I smiled fakely and ignored how Chris had rolled his eyes. “Is there anything else I really need to know to achieve total success?”

My doctor cleared his throat and looked down at the file in his hand, “that’s all I really had to say. All you need to do is follow my instructions and you should be back to your normal self in no time.”

Chris raised his hand, “Would it be possible that there are steps he wouldn’t take to not return to his normal self?

Confusion was an understatement for how confused the physician seemed to be at Chris’ comment, “Why would you not want him to return to his normal self? This is your friend’s health that were talking about. It’s very serious.”

“You’ll have to give me a few months to write an essay on that, Doctor.”

“Christophe Giacometti!” Yuuri scolded.

“BITCH, Y’ALL KNOW IT’S TRUE.”

Usually, I hate walking outside -or being outside in general- but today, as soon as I stepped foot (more like was wheeled out of the entrance of the Hospital as we passed a homeless man trying to earn money by playing Celine Dion’s My Heart Will Go On with his nostril on a recorder (I gave him fifty dollars) but you get the idea) I had never been more thankful to hear the annoying honking that was originating from traffic on the nearby streets.

Chris seemed almost passive until he heard the part of the recorder solo that was intended to mimic: ”Near, far, wherever you are,” where he then screamed out the lyrics and opened his arms wide. He was incredibly immersed in the song; so much, in fact, that he didn’t even realize that he was receiving glares from two police officers who were standing outside of the hospital doors.

“Now, now, Chris, we should probably get going before you create any more issues that cannot be taken back,” I grabbed his arm and started to pull him away from the Walmart edition of Celine Dion. Those police officers didn’t look like they were in the mood to deal with his wailing, and, quite frankly, I wasn’t either. Hell, how could you ever be in the mood for something like that?

Yuuri nodded in agreement as we continued to walk farther and farther down the street from where we exited the hospital. However, as soon as we were far enough from the front of the hospital to be out of the eyes of the police officers, Chris almost walked straight into oncoming traffic like the complete idiot that he is.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?!” I yelled at him as I yanked him back from the road. Yuuri joined in with my loud complaining soon thereafter.

“Oops,” he shrugged.

“Is that all you have to say to the fact that you could’ve almost just died tragically?” Slapping him on the back of his head, I then continued: “What would your mother think if she heard you say something like that?” I dragged him in the opposite direction of where we had been going to reach a nearby bus stop. “I am no longer allowing you to go out into the street without someone there to check the road first.”

“I’m not a baby!”

“Keep telling yourself that, you child.”

Surprisingly, (but not surprisingly) Yuuri was the only person who had a vehicle as soon as we reached the parking lot. Chris had forgotten that he needed to rent a vehicle when he was “visiting,” and I was quite a way from home and without a car- but fear not, of course, Yuuri was much more prepared than us altogether, and he was left with the task of dropping us off back at my house before he would fly back home that same night.

With a lot of argument over who got to ride shotgun, Chris won out because he ran faster than me to the car (it wasn’t my fault; I practically had a zipper implanted on my abdomen) and we rode home in almost complete silence other than Yuuri’s small comments on the weather or things going on in the street to keep us occupied.

It had started to rain as soon as we got into the car so the entire ride home consisted of Chris complaining about how his hair was going to get wet- which he said would ruin his day completely. If we were just going to ride straight home, he wouldn’t have been one to complain, but I needed to stop at the store for food because all of the stuff that I had left out before suddenly leaving was definitely spoiled. I had probably left out the milk, the eggs, opened boxes of Cheez-Itz and Cinnamon Toast Crunch (hopefully Makkachin hadn’t eaten everything off of the counters, but you could never be sure with him.)

Speaking of Makkachin, I needed to pick him up from my Mother’s before I got too involved in anything else. SInce I wasn’t home, I had called my Mom and asked her to look over him until I got out of te hospital, and of course, she agreed because she had no choice. All I could hope for was that he was being fed as much as I usually did. Otherwise, he would be breaking into Mom’s cupboards and eating all of her baked goods whenever he had the chance.

Sounds like a lovely, obedient pet.

So, the complete opposite of you?

At least I’m smarter than that dumb animal.

I WILL FIGHT Y-

“Viktor,” Yuuri interrupted my thoughts by clapping his hands in front of my face. “We’re at the store. It’s time for you to go in and get whatever you need.” He seemed to be slightly aggravated at my dumb staring but who could find a reasonable excuse for him to not be completely over my actions. Truly, there wasn’t one besides the fact that I’m gorgeous.

Don’t give yourself that. You swear you’re Target but you’re actually just the 99 cent store.

Lot’s of people don’t like Target, Inner-thoughts.

Wha-!? Wait wait waitwaitwaitwait, hold the fuck up. Who the actual flip-flap-paddi-wack doesn’t like Target?!? That’s like saying you walked up to a kid last week and punched them across the face. That’s like saying you love Hitler- or even worse… Minions.

It’s true.

I’m officially done with the world’s youth at this point. bye.

What?! You can’t just fucking leave-

“Viktor, I’m not joking. I will actually leave your ass out in this parking lot if you keep this up,” Chris joined in; he was now standing outside of the car to the left of Yuuri. He already had a shopping cart lodged into his grip; meaning that he was full-business-mom mode for shopping. I could already tell that he wasn’t going to trust me with making the decisions of what I was going to purchase. Not because he was trying to be a cunt or anything like that, don’t be fooled. He probably knew that I was going to choose the most unhealthiest items off of the shelf when my doctor had clearly stated that I was going to have to eat healthy for quite a while so my wound would heal faster.

“Fine,” I told him; stepping out of the car with an extended leg as if I were a Victoria’s Secret model (“Supermodel” was literally playing in my head). “Are you in a hurry to shop? Then let’s fucking shop.” I slammed the car door shut as I slid on my favorite pair of “John Lennon” glasses. (Work it, girl.)

They both knew better than to question my authority when I had these glasses on. As soon as they were on my face, I meant business, and no one was going to stand in my way as I snuck gummy-bears into the shopping cart when Chris was looking in the other direction.

Chapter Text

Chris stared down at the unconscious body of Viktor- who had been taking a short nap in his hospital bed just shortly after his surgery. He dabbed at his eyes with a tissue since he didn’t want his mascara to smear from his tears as Viktor’s doctor explained his condition. After the medical professional was finished discussing how Viktor had been affected, he let out aloud sigh as he buried his face into the palms of his hands.

“It’s an extremely tough decision, but I know that it’s the right one to do…” He let out a small sniffle, “I want the plug pulled, doc.”

The doctor gave Chris a confused look. “Um… sir, your friend is not dying. He’s going to make a full recovery and-”

Viktor made a small noise in the back of his throat as the doctor was speaking, and Chris cut him off with a sob so loudly it was practically fake.

“Do you hear that noise? I’ve never heard him make that noise in my entire life!” He grabbed Viktor’s limp hand out of desperation and fell to his knees. “He can’t live like this.”

“That was just a snort,” the other male looked down at the sleeping patient. “Like a pig. Have you ever-”

“I know. He’s always been a pig, but this one was different. I can tell he’s in pain.”

“He hasn’t woken up form his surgery yet to tell yo-”

“Doctor. You can’t tell me that he isn’t in pain. He doesn’t want to live this life. I know him better than you. That noise was out of pure agony.”

“Chris, if you keep on pretending that Viktor is dying, I will personally kick you in the throat.”

“Aw, Yuuri, you’re no fun.”

It didn’t take an idiot to realize that Yuuri was completely done with my actions at the moment. When we first walked into the supermarket, I had made a complete beeline for the sweets section and candy isle that I knew oh-so-well from my frequent visits; shoving bags upon bags of gummy bears and licorice into Chris’s shopping cart. However, Yuuri had other ideas and had started to slowly push me towards the fresh produce section on the other side of the store- which was ridiculous to me. Did he really expect me to eat grass? Try all he might, but it most definitely wasn’t going to get him anywhere. Imported Twinkies and fresh baked pastries sounded much better after being locked up in a hospital room for so long.

Apparently, Yuuri had a long conversation with my doctor before I left and had discovered that I needed to eat a lot of healthy, nutrient-rich food while I as recovering from my “injury.” That meant that I was supposed to have five servings for vegetables a day, four servings of fruit, two to three servings of meat that were low in fat, and around eight grams of grains per day. I also wasn’t allowed to have an over-excessive amount of sugar- meaning that I was limited to 50 grams per day- which was definitely not enough to live off of. Not to mention, the other limits that my doctor had established for me.

I knew that it was for the better, but at the same time, unhealthy food seemed much more of an attractive option. Thus, I dragged Yuuri and Chris to the candy isle to get chocolate. Only, Yuuri had gone full mom mode and pulled me in the opposite direction to where I could find the vegetables and fruits necessary for my successful recovery. There was nothing more that I wanted in the world other than a nice, thick, jelly-filled doughnut drenched in frosting and grease or a cinnamon roll the size of my head. But Yuuri had to go and ruin my fun by reigning me back in and I got to watch Chris wave me goodbye as he grabbed a box of doughnuts for himself to eat right in front of me.

“Why does he get to get all of that stuff, and I can’t?” I complained, watching Yuuri pile three bags of kale into his grocery cart, turning every once in a while to watch Chris slowly approach coronary artery disease with his own basket of grease and sugar. Yuuri smacked my arm at my negative attitude and continued to shove carrots and bell peppers into the cart.

“Because you’re the one who had their body take a vacation- not to mention, you literally almostdied for that same exact reason. If you don’t start eating better, you’re going to end up like sixty percent of America- and that’s not a look any of us want.” He gave me this look that was strong enough to stop me in my tracks and almost have the ability to transform me into a full-on vegan. It was a look of not just disappointment, but also pure concern that had me quaking in my boots. Also, keep in mind that I said almost, because he still didn’t have enough power to rip bacon from my cold, dead hands.

I sighed but didn’t argue with his reasoning. I honestly knew that he was a hundred percent correct. It was no lie that I wasn’t in the healthiest of states despite my thin figure. I wasn’t underweight, if that’s what anyone was thinking by me saying that I’m not healthy- it’s the fact that I hadn’t felt rightfully energized in years because of my diet. A change needed to happen, but I just didn’t have the strength to do it myself. I didn’t have the mentality to stay on a diet for more than a week.

“It’s just so hard,” I finally claimed as Yuuri picked up avocado and checked it to see if it was ripe. “I don’t think I’ll be able to eat healthy for anything for than a week because I’m always craving unhealthy stuff.”

Surprisingly, Yuuri nodded. “I know what that’s like. It’s really hard to hold yourself to a diet but honestly, it’s important to eat foods that are packed with nutrients. I’m not saying that you have to count your calories and cut back. You shouldn’t be constantly hungry when you’re doing this “cleanse.” It’s just eating healthy. In fact, you’ll feel like you’re eating more.” He put the avocado into a plastic bag with two others and tied the end before setting it into the shopping cart.

But salad doesn’t fill me up- and I need a lot of food to fill me up or I’ll literally not even last four hours before I inhale my entire refrigerator.

Yuuri must’ve been able to read my mind because suddenly, he sighed and then put his hands on his hips. He honestly looked so adorable as he was doing it that I could've kissed him right then in that crowded supermarket. Luckily, I have some form of self control and smacked myself on the inside before I did anything that would make me jump off a bridge after doing it.

“Okay, I’ll make you a deal,” he offered, making my ears figuratively perk up. “If you promise to eat healthy for at least one month- with no cheat days whatsoever, I’ll do it with you so you won’t feel as lonely. Think of it as moral support.”

I stared at him, not moving.

“How would you be able to make sure that I wasn’t cheating for the entire thing?” I accidentally said, wanting to slam my hands over my mouth as soon as I spoke. By saying that, It made me seem like I would be a liar if we were to do this whole “diet” thing, and that made me nervous for Yuuri’s response.

He thought for a moment, his eyebrows furrowing before relaxing. A woman slowly stepped between Yuuri and I and grabbed a bag of pre-chopped lettuce from a display. She slunk away from us almost guiltily, like she had just accidentally broke up a very important, life-or-death situation.

“I could always just stay here for the time being. Plus, you need someone here anyways to make sure that you’re healing okay. Chris has to fly home tomorrow, and my flight leaves int he morning, but could always cancel. It’s probably best to make sure that you’re fully healed before I leave back for Japan.”

In my current state of mind, the only thing that I heard was: ”I could always just stay here for the time being,” and absolutely nothing else other than that sentence. I could practically feel my heart attempting to pull a bungy-chord move out of my throat and my lungs sputtering to a premature stop. Did he really just offer to spend a whole month with me? Alone? Was this real life? Is there a glitch in the matrix? This world isn’t real. MOM!

“I mean….” I started, having to clear my throat three times before I could muster a response, “If you aren’t doing anything in the upcoming moth, I think it’d be pretty chill to have you around- to monitor my diet and health status, of course,” I quickly added as to not feel any more awkward that I already did. I knew that I had known Yuuri for a little while now, but still,for him to stay in my house for such a long period of time that wasn’t a “necessity” was a bit strange. It was definitely going to raise a few questions.

Yuuri seemed to think for a moment before he went back to observing the vegetables on the displays surrounding us. This confused me almost instantly and I stood there, looking like a complete idiot as I attempted to decipher what the fuck he meant by using silence. Is that a no? A yes? Why am I receiving mixed signals here? I’m fucking confuzzled.

“So…” I awkwardly trailed out, wanting to shove the cucumber that Yuuri was putting into a plastic bag through my left eye to end my suffering. Why was I always so god-awfully awkward? “Would that be something you’d actually consider? Because- I’m not really against it. I just have really bad self control and as soon as I see a commercial for any type of fast food, I’ll probably break.” I was somewhat telling the truth with my statement, but at the same time, adding a bit of drama to try to appeal to his emotions. Thesis statement. Supporting evidence. Research. The whole package.

Yuuri didn’t seem to be that much affected by everything that I was saying. He just calmly looked up from the food basket, nodded, and said, “I’d have to check and make sure that I’m free, but I’m pretty sure it’s possibility. Plus, I’ve been hoping to improve my Russian a bit for a while now and visit some of the larger cities of Russia, so I might as well kill two birds with one stone.” The way that the explanation left his mouth so easily had me believe for it to be completely honest and truthful. His quick response, in other words, had me shook.

He literally just used the saying: “kill two birds with one stone,” which refers to the murder of two innocent creatures by a rock, and you’re at ease?

Okay, while that is true to a certain extent, it’s just a saying. It’s not reality. Plus, my grandma, of all people, uses that. And aren’t all grandmas the universal symbol for love and peace?

Your grandma has literally shoved a toddler aside when she went to the United States for Black Friday because she thought that he was going to reach a reduced price flat screen television before her.

Damn, you’re right.

“Are you sure that you’re really okay with me staying for such a long time, for something as… small as a diet plan?” Yuuri broke me out of my inner thoughts with not his voice, but the adorable sight of his pushing up his glasses and furrowing his brows slightly in a concerning manner. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to calm my tits.

“Of course!” Speaking a bit too loudly, I accidentally made a passing man almost drop a gallon of chocolate milk in his hands, but luckily, he held tight onto the gallon and instead of dropping the plastic jug, scowled at me; approving. “It’s really not that big of a deal- and this isn’t just any diet. This is a diet we both will be following and cannot break, okay? That means we’re going to have to pinky swear on it, and we will have to be completely healthy for thirty days.” Why was I ever agreeing to such a horrible thing? Really, I had no fucking clue. I was probably delusional from all of the pain medication that I had been n in the hospital.

Raising an eyebrow (probably because he knew my history from watching my videos, ones that I had starred in being “Eating 10,000 calories,” “Making the World’s Largest Sundae,” and one of my personal favorites: “Trying Every Type of American Candy.”) Yuuri glanced down at my hand as if to ask, “are we really going to pinky swear? As full-ass grown adults?”

And my answer was Yes. Ab-so-fucking-lutley.

As soon as I entered my apartment after returning from the hospital, I immediately regretted welcoming Chris and Yuuri into my nasty, dirty apartment that was void of Makkachin since he was with my Mother. On the counter tops, there was a jug of spoiled milk practically burning a hole in my counter top from its rancid scent, dirty dishes and a practically week-old cup of hot chocolate in a Minion mug that had been scribbled over with a black permanent marker. To add, the refrigerator was slightly ajar, and there was a chewed up bag of bread on the floor that was nothing other than a pile of shredded plastic at this point. Makkachin was inevitably to blame.

Yuuri covered his nose as soon as he entered through the front door and Chris turned to leave. The latter was yanked back by the collar of his shirt by Yuuri after his attempt to escape.

“You better fucking let me go or I’m going to literally spray paint this entire kitchen orange with the Doritos I had for lunch,” He slapped a hand over his mouth as he glanced over at the counter-top. He had to literally turn away from the kitchen because he appeared to be in such a physical state of disgust. Chris let out a small cough of terror and shook his head to try to rid himself of the bile rising in his gut uncomfortably. He was starting to get a cold and the strange feeling in his head wasn’t probably helping his nausea.

Yuuri almost shoved Chris into the wall, “don’t cough on me, motherfucker.” He wiped his hands on his jeans.

I simply ignored their conversation and cautiously approached my counter-top. My eyes followed a fly slowly making its way across the kitchen until it ran into my closed window and fell into my trash can. The stench of the rotten milk was strong enough to kill an insect that literally lives in shit eighty-percent of its life. Using my leg, I pushed the trash can that was under the window over to the side of my counter top, where I then propped my leg next to the milk and used it to sweep it into the garbage.

Chris just shook his head again at the noise of the half empty milk carton sloshing into the bottom of the trash bag. I could only agree with his unspoken statement. Yes, Chris, I feel the exact same way. I’d rather throw myself off of a building into oncoming traffic and get ran over by a semi-truck than to ever hear such a revolting sound in the first place. It was more of a chunky splat instead of a rushing waterfall, which made the whole experience ten-times worse.

“Please just throw that into the hallway,” Yuuri said from underneath his hand. I glanced over him with a questioning look, one that said: ”are you trying to get me kicked out?” I’m guessing that no one in the entire country of Russia wants to wake up in the morning, get up to go to work, walk out of their apartments only to get assaulted with something that smells almost as bad as a mattress with fifteen years of wet dreams marinating on top of it.

That’s a little too far for my taste.

The only way that I know I still have a line of common decency to cross it from time to time. You can’t blame me for that.

“I agree,” Chris muttered, covering his nose and mouth with his t-shirt to get rid of the scent plaguing the small apartment. He began to kick his feet like a little child sitting on a swing set; his feet colliding with the cabinet under the counter.

I glared at him, “don’t fucking break my cabinets with your weird-ass habits, Christophe.” I slowly kicked the trash can towards the door and then out into the hallway, where it was knocked over by an accident and spilled week old banana peels and the disgusting milk carton. It painted the carpet an almost off-white, and because I didn’t want to be problematic, I shut the door as quickly as possible and locked it.

“Did you just spill the fucking trash can?” Chris asked.

“No.”

“I fucking heard it, you moron. You know you can’t just leave that spilled milk out there like that. You’ll get evicted or something.”

“Watch me, honey.”

“Okay,” Yuuri interrupted, breaking up our argument almost instantly by standing in between the two of us. “While I clean out the refrigerator, both of you can clean the counter tops and the floors before we can unload the groceries we ought today. Okay? How does that sound?”

I wanted to mimic him like a two year old but I refrained, not wanting to see Yuuri angry. When he saw that I wasn’t going to retaliate towards his statement, he seemed to relax and walked back in the direction of the kitchen, leaving me and Chris to stare at each other with unspoken words of anger.

“Suck up,” was the first thing to leave Chris’s mouth as he began to make kissey faces at me. I swung at him and he dodged my fist, cackling the whole way as he took refuge in the kitchen.