The concept for this story was inspired by a Junjo Romantica fic that I read and I'm embarrassed to say that I don't know which it is. I've looked and can't find it. If you know it or the author please let me know so I can give them the credit they deserve! Thank you!

This is going to be a 2-part story. I hope to be able to upload the second part soon but school is eating up my entire life so I can't make any promises about when it will be ready. I don't have a beta and am kind of a poor self-editor so please forgive any mistakes! Warning: There is some derogatory language against gay individuals in this fic which is why I have given it an M rating. Please be aware as you read.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!

Dreaming in Memories

Victor - Part One

Yuuri was standing in the middle of a frozen pond, barefoot, wearing only sweatpants and a t-shirt. Around him, he could hear the joyful cries of encouragement from a female voice and the unmistakable sound of skates gliding over ice. The woman was young and beautiful standing on the edge of the pond, white-blonde hair hanging straight under her wool hat; her eyes a bright and familiar blue.

"You're doing so well, Vitya! You skate so wonderfully!" The skater, a boy of maybe 7 or 8 years old, zipped in front of Yuuri, skates and hands moving in a step sequence with impressive skill and grace especially in one so young. Shoulder length blonde hair, almost silver, swirled around the boy as he jumped, spun, and danced around the ice. Deep brown eyes watched, mesmerized, trying to catch every detail, feet still rooted in place at the center of the pond. Sparkling blue eyes caught him, making his breath hitch.

"Victor…?" He breathed. This wasn't possible. This child couldn't be Victor. Where was this place? Yuuri shook his head sharply to clear it, the reality of his situation crashing around him. "Excuse me!" He yelled, but neither the woman or the boy took notice. He carefully walked towards the woman, dimly realizing that he didn't feel at all cold, and reached out to her. "Excuse me! Where is this?" He was in front of her now but she didn't react, didn't seem to notice he was there. He reached a hand out, intending to tap her shoulder but his finger went through her. "What the…?" He tried again with both hands now but having the same result. Yuuri could feel panic begin to tighten his chest.

Desperately he turned back towards the center of the pond, looking for the boy. As the child came closer, Yuuri lunged at him only to fall through the other body, making no contact. He sat where he had fallen and looked at the other two people, dazed, confused, and scared.

"Beautiful, Vitya! Your мать is so proud!" She was clapping and beaming as the child laughed, joyfully at the praise.

The edges of Yuuri's vision were becoming fuzzy and the sounds of mother and son faded. Yuuri was truly panicking now; what was happening to him? Everything shifted suddenly and then he was inside what looked like a kitchen, standing next to a large man who clearly was completely unaware a young Japanese man has appeared out of nowhere next to him. His shoulders were broad and his arms well-muscled in a way that made Yuuri think this man was some sort of laborer. His hair was a dirty blonde and cropped short, his skin tanned and weathered from years of long days outside. He was, with some difficultly, pouring himself a generous helping of a clear liquid that Yuuri suspected was not water.

A door somewhere opened and the house was filled with loud, happy chatter. The man grunted, clearly irritated, and walked towards the sound glass in hand. Yuuri followed him through the doorway into a living room where he saw the same mother and child as before. The boy was dressed in red and white training gear and holding a large trophy, a wreath of red roses on his blonde head. He ran up to the man, holding the trophy out to him. "Look, look, отец! I won! I came in first!" Blue eyes looked up at his father, a wide grin on the young face, clearly expecting praise.

Yuuri was just as startled as the boy to hear a growl rumble the chest of the older man as his free hand shot out to snatch the roses off the boy's head and fling them across the room. "Men do not wear flowers, Victor!" He shouted, words slightly slurred. "I will not have my son be some sort of pansy! Men should act like men, Alla!" His anger turned from his son to the woman. "You encourage him!"

"Ivan please…" Her tone was calm but her wide eyes revealed her fear. She reached out her slender hands towards her husband hesitantly, obviously unsure how to calm him.

"No Alla! Look what you've done to my son! He's disgusting! Make up on his face, product in his hair." The man spoke with nothing but revulsion dripping from his mouth. "It's so long he looks like a fucking girl!"

"Vitya, darling," The woman kneeled next to her frozen son, her trembling voice as soft and sweet as possible. "Go to your room." She gave him a little push when he didn't move right away. "Go on, Vitya."

Yuuri followed as the crying child ran from the room into the relative safety of his own bedroom. He felt his heart crack as the young Victor, he was sure now that's who this boy had to be, collapsed onto his bed and sobbed. The shouting of his father continued for what felt like hours outside the door until finally it was silent. Victor has long since stopped crying and sitting upright on the furthest corner of his bed, knees drawn to his chest. His fearful eyes were locked onto the door and his shoulders were tense with anticipation.

The doorknob turned and the door was shoved open by Ivan, the glass in his hand replaced by an envelope with Russian currency peeking out; Yuuri recognized it as official winnings from a skating competition. The man stalked over to the boy and leered over him, shaking the fist that gripped the money.

"You will keep winning or no more." He said, his voice deathly low. "You stop winning and that is the end of this shit, understand? You fail and this girly crap is over." He stared down at his son for a few moments, seemly to relish the fear radiating off the boy. "Now clean that shit off your face! You look like a damn fag!"

Yuuri could feel tears streaming down his face, a sob stuck in his throat. "Oh, Victor…" He reached out to the boy, the room around him fading. "No, Victor!" But he was no longer there.

Again, he stood in the center of an ice rink, though this one was much more formal than the pond. He was clearly standing in a training facility and all around him groups of skaters were working. He spun in place, looking for Victor and was surprised to find a much older version of the man. He hair was short and silver, having lost the hints of blonde he had as a child, shoulders broad but he still didn't look very old, maybe 18 or 19. His face still had the barest hint of childhood roundness. This Victor was skating in small warm up circles, away from all the others practicing. Yuuri moved closer to him, his bare feet making no sound on the ice. "Victor…? What memory is this?" As he mumbled it he knew it was true; somehow, he was witnessing Victor's memories.

Blue eyes were downcast, he looked so forlorn, so far away. There was a deep frown etched onto his pale face, one that Yuuri had never seen and it filled him with sadness. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and comfort the man making slow figures in the corner of the rink. He had never seen Victor look so lost, so deeply sad.

"Vitya!" Victor snapped his head up and looked towards the shout. Yuuri saw his sigh as he made eye contact with Yakov, who was standing at the edge of the rink closest to where Victor was skating. With obviously reluctance the he moved over to his coach and Yuuri followed.

"Vitya," Yakov's voice was unusually gentle, drenched with concern. "How is she doing, Vitya? Have you seen her?"

Victor bit his lower lip and looked as though he was holding back tears. His whole body seemed to retreat into itself, his arms wrapping around his torso in what looked like a desperate attempt to keep himself together. Silver hair created a curtain over his face as he gave a small shake of his head. "He won't… He won't let me…" His voice cracked and Yuuri saw a few drops fall to the ice.

"Oh Vitya…" Yakov reached out and pulled Victor to him in a tight hug. "I'm so sorry. It's not right of him to keep you from her." The coaches grip tightened as Victor began to shake with silent sobs. The older man quietly spoke what Yuuri assumed were comforting words in Russian.

"I just… want… want to say… goodbye…" It was so quiet that Yurri almost missed it.

"I know, Vitya." Yakov paused, his brow furrowing with thought. "And you will! I will make sure of it!" He pushed Victor back so he could look into his face. Yuuri had seen the older coach angry before at competitions, at practices but this was different and not just to Yuuri; Victor's eyes went wide and his mouth opened in shock.

"But…but…how?"

The scene was beginning to fade before Yurri's eyes and he frantically tried to will himself to stay. "No! No, not yet!" He tried in vain to grab at the man in front of him. "Victor!" And he was gone.

Yuuri sank to the floor of some kind of hotel ballroom. He breath something in quick gasps as he tried to calm himself, his mind working to process the last scene of Victor's life he had seen. A voice, his own voice, snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Fine! I challenge you, Yuri! Dance off!" He saw himself about ten feet away, surrounded by other skaters and very, very drunk.

"Oh no…" This was the banquet. The banquet. "Do I really have to see this?" He groaned as he watched himself forcefully drag Yuri to the dance floor, humiliation distracting him from the distress of his last vision. His other self removed his tie and he began to move around Yuri. The music changed from the quiet, classical to something with a deep, resonating beat; Yuuri suspected Chris to be responsible. It pulsed through the room, altering the mood of everyone in it; some were scandalized but most were pleased with the spark that livened up what could otherwise be a dull event. The sounds were sensual with an edge.

Yuuri watched himself in embarrassed fascination; the skills he gained from those hip-hip classes Minako insisted he take on full display. He and Yuri danced around each other, trying to out-do each other's movements. Yuri was showing off his flexibility, bending and flexing, showing off his ballet-esque physique. Yuuri on the other hand, had his strength on full display, rotating his body on a single arm, twisting himself in every direction. As the song came to an end he executed a head spin, legs parted to keep his balance, his victory in the dance off assured. Yuuri rubbed his neck as he observed this, "So that's why my neck hurt for the next couple days…" He looked around as the two competitors bickered their way off the dance floor while Victor and Chris took a few last photos.

The music changed again, taking on a Latin flare. Yuuri saw himself swaying to it and knew from others' recounting of the night that his humiliation was far from over. The other him moved unsteadily up to Victor and extended his hand. "Am I your next competitor, Yuuri?" Victor's voice was filled with amusement as he smiled at the still very drunk Japanese man.

"No," Yuuri's voice was deep and husky, the small slurring of his words largely unnoticeable. Victor's eyes widened and a sly smirk played on Yuuri's lips. "You're my prize." Victor was pulled onto the dance floor and deposited several feet away from where the other man now stood. Yuuri's wrists snapped into a flamingo styled pose, eyes flashing a challenge to the Russian standing across from him. Blue eyes looked surprised for a moment before sparking with excitement, his own arms moving to match Yuuri's position. They moved, mirroring each other until they came together. Yuuri's breathe caught in his throat as he watched. "We're beautiful…" The pure delight pouring out of the couple as they danced. All too soon the song ended and Yuuri thought he saw disappointment in Victor's face, even if his drunken other self didn't.

"My turn!" Chris purred into Yuuri's ear and tore him away from Victor and towards a pole in the center of the room.

"Oh god… No, no, no, no, no…" Yuuri knew what was coming and he really didn't want to see it. He moved to where Victor was standing with Yuri and J.J., watching the newest spectacle that was being created, trying to ignore himself as he began to strip.

"Who knew the fatso had it in him?" Yuri was grumbling, the disgust he was trying to portray not quite ringing true.

"You're just upset that you lost!" J.J. laughed. "He totally out classed you, Princess!"

"Now, now Yuri!" Victor cut off what would probably a string of expletives from the teenager. "You have to admit that Japanese Yuuri put on quite the performance!"

Yuri scoffed but paused, giving Victor all the answer he needed before Yuri smirked up at him. "You're just smitten with the fatso, aren't you Victor? The little piggy charmed you, huh?"

Instead of the embarrassed denial he was expecting, Victor blushed and gave a small smile. "You know Yuri, I think you may be right. I may even be in love." A blue eye winked at the younger man in an attempt to make it seem like more of a joke than the words sounded.

Yuuri stared, shocked. A hand slipped through Victor's shoulder, the need to touch the man overriding the knowledge that he was a phantom. As the room faded around him, he smiled; maybe this evening wasn't as horrible and embarrassing as he thought.

Ok, there is part one! I will try and get the next part up as soon as possible! Please review and let me know what you think! Thanks!