Thanks for checking out my fanfic! This has been sitting on my computer for a while now so I decided to post it along with my other story 'We Choose What Defines Us'. Hope you like it!
Victor was 28 when he 'died'.
Nearly 100 years later, he still walks the earth.
(Nearly 100 years ago, he lost the person most important to him.)
This is how it happened.
Victor was late.
He had meant to be home hours ago, but a combination of losing track of time at the rink, meeting fans (he's delighted when they ask after his Yuuri who's sick with the flu and thus not with him (a rare sight nowadays, now that they're together in Russia) and getting stuck at basically every crossing on the way home. Which leads to more fans asking for autographs and selfies and by the time his apartment comes into view, the sun had long since set and Victor's worry for his beloved fiancé was the only thing he could focus on.
(His single-minded thoughts are what costed him, and gave him a centuries worth of regrets.)
He rashly strode straight past the alley way he usually crossed the street to avoid - something about it caused the silver haired man to feel uneasy – Yuuri thought he was ridiculous for it, "-the apartment is right there, Victor-" but thankfully stayed with him every time.
He didn't know what happened next. He'd nearly cleared the alleyway when someone grabbed him, covering his mouth and everything erupted in pain. He gasped, the sound coming out muffled, and his fight or flight instincts kicked in. He lashed out with an elbow but hit nothing as his assailant started to drag him backwards, further into the cover of darkness the alley had hid them in.
Victor dug his feet into the cement, tried to brace his legs and regain control to no effect.
Victor was a deceptively strong person for how lean he was, something Yuuri could attest to, with the amount of times the older man had picked him up to throw him into a jump while on ice.
His disbelief of his powerlessness cleared his mind of the primal panic it had sent it into, and for just a moment, he realised just where exactly it was the pain was originating from.
His attacker had him in a hold from behind, one arm wrapped around his middle, pinning one arm against his side and the other was covering his mouth, also serving to hold his head in place. The man, and Victor now realises it is a man from the lack of mass pressing between his shoulders and the chest behind him, as well as the deep grunts he let out.
And buried into his neck was his face, mouth wide open and teeth latched onto the skin of his pulse point, forcefully bared by the hold on his chin.
Not on, Victor thought dimly in horror, seeing crimson spreading down his shirt.
His teeth had pierced the thin skin, gushing blood he gulped down greedily with every muted grunt.
Victor's vision blurred, his mind collapsing on itself, unable to process the situation and his body did the only thing left it could still do.
It shut down.
And everything went black.
This story came about by me talking to my fellow YOI fans at work.
