I tried to make a home out of you.
But doors lead to trapdoors, a stairway leads to nothing.
Unknown women wander the hallways at night. Where do you go when you go quiet?
You remind me of my father, a magician... able to exist in two places at once.
In the tradition of men in my blood, you come home at three a.m. and lie to me. What are you hiding?
The past and the future merge to meet us here. What luck. What a fucking curse.
"I was thinking about putting a quad in this part of the song. What do you think?"
Thirty seconds, the end of the melody. The lack of response leads me to think Viktor is watching the whole choreography in his mind, looking for any negative consequences a quad could bring to the program. Typical habit from a professional. Responsible, like he (almost) always is. I don't say anything else because I don't want to bother him. I know pretty well how much concentration goes into this. One single mistake and it could lead me to disaster. And I also like to look at him when he is like this. He's even more handsome when focused on work. Still leaning on the table, I look behind me, but what I see is nothing like I imagined.
As time went by, I learned how to read him. It was necessary, for knowing is heart is not a way to know his soul or mind. Viktor was never the extremely attentive type, capable of telling the exact space and timespan of anything. He doesn't usually pay attention to what's happening around him, unless it's something of his interest. There are moments, however, in which this distraction is different. Deep, intrinsical. I can tell by the way his eyes get lost and seem numb. His body has almost no motion, except for a natural breathing movement. By the way he looks at the snow falling outside without actually seeing it, this is definitely one of those moments. From the beginning, he hasn't been paying attention.
I love every single part of him, even if it means having to repeat things a couple times – no matter how boring it is. I love his distraction and the shy smile he gives me when he thinks I'm mad at his lack of attention. This lack of attention, however, doesn't usually last long and that's what has been getting me worried. This scenery has been repeating itself for at least a month. Not the funny and temporary one which makes my days around him funnier and cozier, but the one that pushes him away – not only from the world, but also from me. After everything we've been through, I don't want to be the one who bothers and invoices him. I want to be the closest to what he dreamed for his life, to meet every single expectation. But the connection we found between us is something way too intense to be threatened by this peculiar aspect of his personality. Something is wrong, screams a voice at the back of my head.
"Viktor!"
He would normally be frightened in a funny way. The scare would be followed by red cheeks, a shy smile and a sweet request for forgiveness in a very short timespan. But none of that came and his answer was late. There were no red cheeks or shy smiles. His head just turns a bit, his expression being exactly the same as it was before. His empty look goes right through me like I was nothing. From every possible situation in the world, that was the least likely to happen. Even when we had problems, Viktor's eyes were never empty while they crossed mine. They always shine, which was understandable since according to himself, I changed his whole life. He pulls a scarf from the sofa's backrest.
"I'm sorry, Yuuri. We'll talk about that later. I have to meet Yakov soon."
He doesn't give me time to question before putting the scarf around his neck and leaving without saying goodbye. That's also a red flag. We mutually agreed not to leave without saying goodbye, but things like that have been recurring. For quite some time now, every time he goes through that door alone, my heart screams. Phichit told me that's intuition, but I'd rather believe I'm going crazy or developing some kind of disorder that can be solved with a few years of therapy and some trips to the psychiatrist. We're becoming distant and that's evident. I still love him like I did the first time I saw him compete over ten years ago, but I can't tell if what he feels for me is still the same.
Three years ago, I left a whole story behind to live by his side. Just like he decided to leave Russia for some time to guarantee I'd be with him, I decided to leave Hasetsu so we could be together. Three years ago, with no second thoughts, I traded certainty for hope and came to live in Saint Petersburg. In a place without family or close friends, surrounded by a new culture and a language which I didn't even understand the basics, I made home out of Viktor. with him I finally felt safe and complete. His heart made me feel like home and from that I learned that home is not a place, but a feeling, and that's probably what makes me so uneasy. It's hard to be at ease when the home you struggled so hard to build simply gets up and walks away from you. It's hard not to feel empty when your home moves around all the time and you don't even know where it goes.
The night comes. A hurricane of thoughts made my mind so numb that I couldn't even see the time pass. Sitting on the couch, I take a deep breath. Being unable to practice for almost a month due to medical orientation, I'm trapped inside this place with nothing much to do. The doctors said that even though I don't have to stay in bed all the time, my movements shouldn't be too intense. The apartment is clean, Makkachin is already fed and I'm not hungry. Turning on the TV is a waste of time as I still cannot understand much beyond "Dobriy vecher" on the night news. They say an empty mind is the devil's workshop, but there's nothing much I can do about it.
I tiredly walk to bed when it's almost eleven p.m. I pull the duvet over me. The fall is almost over, and even though it snows in Hasetsu, nothing compares to winter in Russia. I reach for the cellphone on the nightstand, as always. The photo Viktor and I took during our honeymoon shines on the screen and it brings the sweet memory from the time when my only worry was not to worry at all.
Scrolling through Instagram, I find my little moment of entertainment. The first thing I see is a post from Phichit, where Celestino is sleeping with his mouth open; then a very risqué (as usual) post from Chris holding a champagne glass in a pool; and Mila on the rink with Georgi. The last one gets my attention. In the background, you can see Yakov, Lilia and some other skaters. Yakov seems very entertained by the conversation he's holding with Lilia – which is something that would deserve way more attention if I was in another mindset. Viktor is not there.
That could mean anything, but the voice screams again.
I notice I fell asleep by a light coming from the corridor at three-twenty in the morning. He walks in slowly, being very careful not to make any noise, but Maakachin's loud bark betrays him. He walks past me, again, like I was nothing and I can't help but sigh, softly enough for him not to notice. After a few minutes in the bathroom, he prepares himself to lay by my side like he has been there all night. As if he could trick me. As if I wouldn't notice when I got up in the morning.
"Where were you?"
He got scared. His white skin got paler. He clearly wasn't expecting me to wake up and maybe that's the clearest sign something was wrong from the beginning. How could I sleep, not knowing where he was? How could I sleep after finding out not only he could be anywhere, but he was also lying? All the things he has ever said, all the promises he's ever made came to my mind. How many were true and how many were empty? The pain on my chest was almost unbearable. Even though I wanted to know, I still feared the answer. Would he lie again or would he risk telling the truth, no matter how ugly it was?
"I had a meeting with Yakov, Yuuri. I told you that before I left."
"Until this late?"
"He needed extra help with Mila's free program, that's all. It's late so let's sleep, shall we?"
All I could do was stay silent. I had no strength to argue. Something inside wouldn't allow me to sound needy or desperate, even if that was exactly how I was feeling. I don't want neither a distrustful relationship, nor act like the jealous and insecure husband who needs to know where his partner is all the time. But what am I supposed to do when everything seems so wrong? How thin is the line between fondness and obsession?
Viktor. Where do you go when you go quiet? And the most important... What are you hiding?