Anxiety.
It was something Yuuri couldn't remember ever living without.
It started small. Little by little, it slowly festered in his mind. Seeds of doubt planted in his thoughts. A doubt here and there, whispers of insecurity and diffidence. And it grew, attaching itself to him- almost like a parasite. And it became a vital point in his being. Katsuki Yuuri wasn't Katsuki Yuuri without his anxiety and constant panic attacks.
And how degrading that was.
To have a label forced on him, one that defines who he is- the him that people see.
It brought about constant panic attacks. Feelings of unworthiness and uselessness became a norm. And everyday, he'd slowly succumb to it. Believing the (poisonous) truths (lies) it brought.
Because what else is he supposed to believe?
The more people say it, the more he hears it, the more he starts to believe it.
And there was a side of him that hated it. That was disgusted with how he was acting- giving in to the belittlement he was given.
How he wanted to continue to cling on to that 'side' of him- his confidence, in a way.
But day by day, he'd found it harder to do so.
Yuuri wonders how did it come to this. Where did it start, when did it start.
Was it when his peers would belittle him, facing him with smiles of plated gold but with silver daggers when his back was turned? Or was it when he started gaining weight, faced with the unrealistic expectations and double standards of society?
As each day passes, he started to notice his peers' pity.
"Why won't he just quit?"
"Can't even skate properly."
Pity.
He grew to loathe the word. What was pity, if nothing but a sugar-coated means of hiding the condescending amusement of humans. He knew that people constantly pitied him for his incompetence.
It made it hard to trust people. Not when he'd been let down again and again by so many. Not when he looks at the people around him and sees the hidden lies, the laughter and the pity that would slowly bleed into the pleasant facade they present to the rest of the world.
So he isolated himself. Became socially withdrawn, only increasing the taunts of his so-called compeers.
It's tight grip on his mind never let go, it was always there. Haunting his thoughts. Taking over it.
And he hates it. Of all people, why him? What did he do to deserve this?
And along came depression.
He hadn't realized until it was too late, when its claws had already clasped unforgivingly on him.
He'd collapsed to his knees when the realization hit.
He remembers seeing articles of people taking their life, riddled with depression. And he'd used to think, how could they do this? What were they thinking?
Small stray thoughts would cross his mind and his curiosity (temptation) led him to self-mutilation and self-hatred.
Time and time again, he would fall, crashing to the unforgiving ice. They ate away at his sanity, pushing him closer to the edge. The ice no longer felt safe, he'd see the lies people would tell him; kindness hid knives, concern hid condescending pity.
And the desire to rid of it all grew.
"You'll never be good enough."
The jeers, the insults, all mocking his body and his skating.
"What kind of figure skater flubs all of his jumps?"
"A dancer can't have that much weight."
"You should just retire."
While it had certainly affected him, he had tried and kept moving forward.
Until that fateful December night.
Until Sochi.
The ice, skating- his passion, his raison d'être, failed him. And he drowned in his shame. Sochi eradicated what little confidence he ever had.
He remembers standing in his room; his hand grasping a number of sleeping pills. It wasn't the first time he'd contemplated committing suicide. And he wanted to do it- he wanted it oh so badly.
Because really, he was worthless.
But he was weak.
His hand trembled whilst holding the pills, under the weight of what would be his decision and the consequences that he would inevitably face.
And he threw the pills to the wall and sunk into himself.
He can't- he can't-
He'd gone back to Hasetsu, just like a pathetic coward. Unsure of the future, of his failing career.
And the universe just loved to see him suffer.
Victor Nikiforov came and asked- no, decided to be his coach.
And Yuuri can't help but wonder what Victor saw in him. Him, a man devoid of talent, deplorable and unworthy.
"Do you really think that you- a complete utter failure, deserve the Living Legend?"
And he wants to shake Victor, scream at him to stop wasting his time on someone like him.
"You stole him from us- from the world. You don't deserve him."
Days pass by and he trains non-stop. Pushing his limits. Spending each day with Victor (untouchable don't taint him he pities you don't hope-)
For a while, things are peaceful.
And he slowly starts to realize that he wants this.
That he wants Victor to be by his side. That he wants Victor to stay.
And isn't it hilarious? Someone like him who's undeserving, lamentable and vile, to wish that someone as perfect and flawless as Victor to stay with him.
No.
No, don't dare hope.
Hope brings nothing but disappointment and heartache. You know that.
He'll give up on you and leave.
He can't believe these lies (truths) of Victor staying with him.
Because he sees.
He sees how Victor looks at the other contestants. He knows that Victor wants to skate again. That's where he belongs. He can't afford to be selfish, to keep Victor away from skating.
It's after the GPF that things take a turn for the worse. He's alone in the room, having refused the invitation to celebrate with the others, claiming that he was tired. And being left alone with his thoughts, the urge made itself known.
The glint of the blade shines under the moonlight.
You don't deserve him.
And he's so selfish, him, a mere silver medalist, to keep the Living Legend from the world.
Disgusting, the slashes on your wrist are disgusting.
He grips the dagger tightly, unconcerned about the blood spilling on the sheets.
Why don't you just die right now?
No one needs someone as pathetic as you.
And Yuuri smiles, watching the blood dribble down the sheets,
because who needs a failure like him anyway?
And his world starts to darken,
the last thing he sees is the growing pool of his blood.