PROLOUGE – What is Love?
What is love?
It's a question that's never failed to confound Yuuri. Many times, he's asked himself that question. In the end, however, Yuuri decided it was too hard to define love.
Love came in many forms, so for it to be one thing was essentially against the nature of love itself. He loved his family who never abandoned him and continually supported him unconditionally. He loved his friends who kept him going and gave him strength. He adored Viktor Nikiforov, who embodied everything he loved about being on the ice and what he wanted to become. He loved ice skating and putting in the hard work in order to achieve something greater.
However, none of his experiences had prepared him to know a love between lovers, the kind of love he knew he lacked so far in his life.
There was a time, long ago, when Yuuri felt like he could love another person—when he felt love and returned love as it came. The innocence of his childhood, the protection his family provided—whatever caused it, he remembered very vividly his excitement at the prospect of having a soulmate. It was a time when Yuuri wanted to be loved and love one person with all his heart, to protect them and cherish them. There was a moment in particular Yuuri remembered exhibiting his child-like, loving tendencies.
It was a windy night in Hasetsu, Yuuri's hometown. Gusts of wind scattered the sea breeze gently across the sandy beach as the night settled into the quiet darkness of the town. Yuuri remembered it being the scene of serenity and peace, something Yuuri had a hard time imagining now.
His family had gone out on an outing, waiting for the forecasted meteor shower to light up the sky. Yuuri remembered bits and pieces, but being so young, the details were blurry. Excitement. Joy. Warmth. It was a happy memory despite it all. But Yuuri remembered a conversation, spurred on by his bubbly self as a kid.
"Okaa-san! Look look! There are so many sparkly things in the sky!" He pointed to show his mother what he was talking about. The boy fidgeted, beaming with energy. His mother, Hiroko, chuckled at his innocence.
"Do you know what those sparkly things in the sky are called, Yuuri?" She asked with a warm smile on her face as she looked at Yuuri with endearment.
The boy looked puzzled and shook his head, messy black locks swaying with the motion and the wind. The brown-haired woman giggled at Yuuri's answer and explained, "Those sparkly, shiny dots in the sky are called stars. They are shining from a far-away place, so far away that they are small in the sky. Isn't it amazing that the light from such a faraway place reaches us here?" Hiroko smiled, clear affection for her son lighting her face.
"Wow…" Yuuri whispered in wonder and stared in amazement at his discovery of stars. Moments passed in content silence until Yuuri asked, "Why do the stars try so hard?"
Yuuri's mother looked back at her son with a small, confused face. Yuuri's child-like energy had lessened, and he looked more subdued and focused on the sky. "What do you mean Yuuri?"
The boy looked at his mother and then back at the sky slowly, like he was thinking deeply about the stars themselves. "If they're so far away, why do they shine so bright so that we can see them?" He asked with more clarity to his question.
The woman looked up at the stars in contemplation. After a second, she smiled and said, "I think that maybe the stars are lonely, so they shine to have someone to cherish them. What do you think Yuuri?"
Yuuri seemed to have had an aha moment and swiveled around in his mother's lap. "Okaa-san!" He exclaimed. "I'm going to cherish my star so that they won't be lonely anymore!"
His mother, Hiroko, laughed gently at his declaration and asked, "What is your star Yuuri?" She asked curiously.
He looked back at her, momentarily confused, and then seemed to realize something. "My soulmate. See? Isn't it a star?" He said, throwing his mother off for a second and then she realized his connection. However, after he pulled down his shirt and she could see where his soulmark was, she chuckled softly.
His sister, Mari, seemed to have finished her conversation with their father and heard the end of Yuuri's question. In reaction, she glanced over at her baby brother's soulmark he was showing Hiroko and laughed loudly over Hiroko's gentle voice.
Yuuri pouted and let his shirt come back up to cover the skin of his chest once more. "Mari-neechan! That's mean."
Mari yanked his shirt down to reveal it once more and explained through her tears, "Yuuri, this isn't a star," she huffed out a giggle and breathed hard to regain her breath, "this is a snowflake ya' stupid-head." She kept on laughing and released his collar.
In disbelief, Yuuri pulled the fabric and looked down at the silvery skin glimmering in an intricate pattern of lines, curls, and dots once more.
"I think it looks like a star to me," he blushed in embarrassment but stubbornly held to his belief.
Hiroko covered Yuuri's hand gently and moved it so his shirt returned to covering his breast muscle. She grabbed Yuuri's hands and asked him, "Yuuri, is this the star you said you're going to treasure?"
Yuuri returned to full energy and nodded his head ecstatically. "Of course!"
Hiroko's eyes closed in blissful happiness at the purity of her son's heart. "I'm sure you can do it Yuuri. Always treasure them."
A white, shimmering line danced across the sky as Yuuri agreed with an energetic hum.
It was so long ago when Yuuri felt those pure feelings, untainted by cruel truths and realities. All Yuuri knew now is that he did not deserve love. No, more than that, he couldn't do what he promised so long ago. How could he treasure someone else if he saw himself as worthless?
Viktor had never known a time when he didn't desire love.
It was something he constantly craved, and for many reasons. His parents were never satisfied, as they'd always wanted him to achieve great heights in things he couldn't care less about. He never had close friends, although he'd easily slipped on a mask of fake happiness to draw in willing acquaintances. Then, he was a die-hard romantic with a great hope and striving for romantic love. However, early in his life Viktor had come to realize that his life was not normal. Despite his unrealistic expectations of what love should be, he knew and lived with the fact that he couldn't expect much from those around him.
At some point, Viktor started to do whatever he could to obtain and keep love in his life, starting with doing anything and everything to make his father happy. His father was a strict man, and he'd wanted his son to follow in his footsteps. So, for a few years, Viktor indulged his father, did everything he wanted and in turn, Viktor felt like he was slowly losing himself. However, Viktor would do anything, including sacrificing his happiness and his own identity, for the sake of love, even the twisted love his father gave him for obedience. His mother saw the storm of Viktor's life and tried to help him, but she too struggled to keep herself from doing exactly what his father did to him.
No, Viktor didn't think he would ever be happy and in love, but he wanted it with his entire being.
Viktor remembered the day his family fell apart and he was rejected for being who he was. He was only 12 years old.
"Mama! Did you see that?" Viktor shouted and waved, his shoulder-length silver hair flopping as he bounded towards his mother. He openly flashed his medal in the air and continued, "I won a competition! A real figure skating competition! And I landed my salchow! Didn't I look cool? I guess all that practice really did bring results!" the boy bounced up and down in front of his mother with endless energy. After saying his peace, he threw open his arms in barely concealed anticipation.
The silver curls framing his mother's face swayed with movement as she turned to give the boy a quizzical look. "What is it Viktor?" she sighed in exasperation.
"My reward mama. I want a congratulatory hug." He kept a careless happy façade, but his heart quickened, and his smile strained at the anxiety building in his mind.
The woman let out another sigh, bent down, and gave her son a hug.
"You did well Viktor. Keep it up, make me proud." Hoping it would last longer, Viktor reached up to hold his mother in their hug, but she moved back quickly. The woman unraveled herself from the embrace and Viktor returned his hands to his side. He stood dazed in the happiness of winning a major competition.
"Hurry up Viktor. We need to get home before your father starts to wonder where we went." She rushed the boy out of the rink and into a taxi. The woman busied herself with the task of taking Viktor's skating bag and shoving it into an inconspicuous hockey bag. "Where's your costume Vitya?" His mother slipped in the diminutive. He reluctantly gave it to her and she immediately threw it into a plastic bag to later throw away.
Viktor knew his father didn't approve of figure skating for men. He believed that, if you did such a thing, you became less than a man, and his father hated male figure skaters for it. His father was a prominent hockey player, and he often spoke to Viktor about how much he wanted him to be just like him and rule the hockey world. Whether or not it was for his father's dream or his father's hatred, his figure skating was a strict secret kept from his father.
His mother, despite her harsh language and actions, spoiled her son and helped him with his dreams. She wanted him to succeed, but she didn't want her husband to know she supported him. She, in her younger days, was a prima ballerina and understood the things that made Viktor love the ice. It was why she loved dance. So, for as long as she could, she'd pushed Viktor to succeed in what he loved and, all the while, hoped to keep it a secret, meaning Viktor had to as well.
However, both of them didn't think about what they would do once Viktor started to enter the spotlight of fame. After the competition today, it made his mother realize how impossible this secret might've become. There were so many cameras, so many people, and the rink closed all other activities in light of the major competition. A bead of cold sweat fell from Viktor's mother's forehead despite the chilling cold of the outdoors.
Once home, the minute they opened the door his father greeted the pair with eyes like a hawk.
"Welcome home Viktor, Valeriya. Care to tell me what practice you both came from?" He glared at his mother, then hardened it at Viktor. The clear lack of diminutives left the greeting cold and empty.
"Papa, you know we go to hockey practice every Tuesday." He explained smoothly. He hoped his father wasn't in an interrogative mood, but he clearly didn't believe what Viktor had just said.
"Vlad-" Viktor's mother started to try and explain again, but he held his hand up to signal her silence.
"What about the fact that there was a relocated boy's figure skating competition featuring children nearing the Junior Grand Prix age range today at the main rink? The supposed hockey practice you speak of didn't happen. The rink canceled it!" He paused, and if his sharp blue eyes could get any colder, he added, "But, you see, it wasn't just that. While trying to find your supposed hockey practice, I noticed a very familiar face on the ice of a figure skating competition for boys." His father ground out the words with pure hatred and disgust evident in his voice.
He continued, "I saw you Viktor, so I want you to explain why my son," he repeated with more emphasis, "my son, was doing a woman's sport." He spat out the words at the end.
Viktor stood in horror. His mother moved her hand between Viktor and her husband.
Dropping the façade of Viktor being at hockey practice, his mother defended, "Vlad, it's what he loves to do. What's the harm in that?"
Viktor's father growled, "My son is destined to be a man of the ice, a hockey player!"
"Vlad, you can't just make him do whatever you want him to do! He has a mind of his own!"
"What about you?! You're doing the same thing! You have no right…"
Their voices faded off as Viktor trudged back to his room, grabbing the forgotten, fake hockey bag and his costume. At least this time he got to keep his costume. Viktor curled up on his bed and hugged it close to his heart as he sobbed silently in the dark solitude of his room. He hoped that, maybe one day, his parents would understand why he loved figure skating and would support him for it.
Maybe one day, Viktor consoled himself as he slipped into sleep.
All Viktor wanted was for someone to truly love him for what he was—Viktor. But even after freeing himself from the stifling confines of his family, he never escaped the routine he created. Being a fake Viktor. He just kept smiling for the cameras, laughing for the interviewers, and no one ever ventured any deeper, leaving him all alone to himself.
Love is a thing that has to be given and received. There can not be one without the other. One who has love but no one to share it with is missing an important piece of their life and, in the same way, one who has given love without having any for themselves is missing a vital piece of their life. In light of this, fate made to complete the two halves and make them a whole.