One year. It had been one wonderful year, and despite everything, Viktor Nikiforov never thought it would come down to this. Tears washed down his face as he stared at the other person in front of him. He grit his teeth, his hand shaking as he tried to hold the gun steady in his hand, his finger hovering over the trigger.

The house around them groaned loudly, something crashing in the background, and Viktor cast his glance around briefly. The beautiful white pillars that once stood tall and strong, now broken and burned, crumbling, trying to support a weight they could no longer hold. Glass and blood littered the ground and Viktor peered briefly at the blood dripping down his lover's face, wincing as he realized he had caused that injury… he had caused every injury…

The gun in his hand shook violently and Viktor grasped it with both hands, trying to stop his hands from trembling. He fixated his view on the black cold gun pointed at him, tracing his gaze over the slick design; the trigger, the barrel, the release, the muzzle… all pointed at him with steady hands. His eyes traced the fingers wrapped around the handle and trigger, tracing up the arms connected to the hands, tattoos wrapping their way up his boyfriend's right shoulder, hidden beneath his torn shirt sticking to his bleeding side.

Viktor coughed, wiping away some blood that was dripping down the side of his temple, no doubt caused when he had been pushed through the front window. The pain in his right shoulder was screaming, the bullet residing under the bloodied skin not even comparing to the metal protruding from his left ankle. But nothing, not the broken ribs or wrist or knuckles, not the bullet wound flagging his right shoulder, not the metal shard sticking out of his ankle, or the burns littering his left side, compared to the pain clouding his heart. Nothing compared to the thought of following through with his mission… of killing the one person he loved so much. Nothing compared to the idea of killing Yuuri Katsuki.

Heartbreak washed over Viktor like rain, and he lowered his gun, gripping it tightly in his hand. He looked down at the floor, watching it disappear behind fuzzy tears and dark blood, biting his lip as he raised his head slowly to meet Yuuri's gaze. The breath in his throat caught as he took in the tears washing down Yuuri's face, mixing with the blood and dirt that painted his body, his trembling fingers trying their best to support the gun gripped in his hands, pointed at Viktor. The Russian winced. If you don't do this Viktor, then I will… and trust me Vitya, you do not want me to finish the job. If I do, then I'll kill the kid...

…

They had met in a coffee shop. On a Tuesday. Viktor remembered clearly because it had been raining, and Yurio had been complaining about having practice later that night, despite the storm about to plague New York.

Viktor sighed loudly, giving his little brother a gentle shove as the line moved, hoping to get the younger Russian to shut up. Yurio turned around quickly, giving Viktor a hard stare as the older Russian raised an eyebrow, a smirk crossing his face as he dared the younger to move. The teenager grit his teeth before turning back towards the line, pulling his phone from his pocket, flipping through Tumblr.

Thunder clapped overhead and the lights flickered for a second, causing a little girl to scream, and Viktor sighed again. He hated coffee. The only reason he was here was for Yurio. The damned kid had promised to stay in school the whole day if Viktor bought him coffee… which seemed like a fair enough deal.

Viktor glanced at his watch. 7:45am. If the line didn't move faster then they both would be late… Yakov didn't tolerate lateness well. Viktor felt something brush past his feet and he glanced down to find a white cat, rubbing against his ankle's, messing with his shoestrings. It took him a few tired moments to realize Yurio had mentioned this was a cat coffeeshop… because someone had thought it would be a great idea to combine two things Viktor hated. The older Russian tried shooing the cat away gently, but this only prompted another cat to lunged at him, rubbing against his legs, purring loudly. He felt someone jab his ribs and glanced down to find they had made it to the register. Finally.

He pulled some cash from his back pocket, handing it to the teenager as Yurio ordered, and stepped out of line, waiting near the door, hoping to leave soon. Rain beat against the window and Viktor turned to watch the cold water slide down the glass plane, forming in puddles on the concrete as people hurried by. His phone buzzed loudly, and Viktor pulled it from his jacket pocket, groaning loudly as Yakov's name crossed his screen. He swallowed, watching Yurio play with one of the cats across the room, before pressing talk.

"Da?" Viktor asked, his soft voice wavering slightly as he mentally prepared for what was to come.

"Vitya, where the hell are you?" Yakov growled. Viktor could picture him sitting at his desk, a cigarette hanging from his mouth, flipping through the newspaper, drinking what was probably close to pure alcohol by now.

Viktor groaned, "Yakov, it's only 8am. I had to drop Yurio off at school first… it's his first day back since the incident, and they wanted to meet with a guardian. I'll be in before 9am, alright?"

There was silence on the other side of the phone, and Viktor bit his lip, waiting for Yakov to reply. The other man sighed loudly, "Fine Vitya… just don't make a habit out of it. You're still on for tonight… with Chris, yes?"

Viktor nodded, turning to face the window once more, "Yes."

"Good," Yakov said softly. There was rustling on the other end of the line, and Viktor smiled faintly as a woman's voice echoed through the phone. It was Lilia. It had to be Lilia. Lately, Yakov had been getting chummy with his ex-wife, probably because she had tried to have him killed, and he her… but for some reason, this only seemed to bring the two closer… if at least for now.

"Oh, and Viktor," Yakov whispered, "Don't let me down tonight."

Viktor winced, his blood freezing slightly as the accusation slapped him harshly. He shivered, wrapping his scarf around his neck, "Have I ever Yakov?"

He smirked, listening to the other man mutter something incoherent under his breath, feeling something kick his leg. The Russian turned around to face his brother before pushing end call, placing the phone back in his pocket.

Yurio raised an eyebrow, handing Viktor a tall green cup, steam rising from the tiny hole at the top. Viktor took the cup, frowning slightly as he opened the lid, glancing down at the green liquid inside. Yurio raised his own, bringing the hot cup towards his face, breathing deeply as he took a slow sip from his hot chocolate. He himself wasn't too fond of coffee… but there was no way in hell he was going to tell Viktor that… besides he would never hear the end of it if Viktor knew the only reason the younger wanted to come here was for the cats.

Viktor sighed, taking a sip from the questionable liquid as the lights flickered again. Confusion crossed his face briefly as he realized the liquid wasn't coffee… and it didn't taste bad.

"I know you don't like coffee, so I opted for green tea. Is it good?" Yurio asked quietly, pulling his phone from his pocket again. Viktor nodded, "Yeah, thank you Yura."

The teenager shrugged, and started toward the door, glancing back slightly at the black kitten he had been playing with earlier. A soft smile crossed his face as the tiny kitten stared at him, cocking her head slightly as if to question where he was going. Yurio clenched his fist… he really wanted a cat.

Viktor followed his brother's gaze, rolling his eyes slightly as he tried pushing the door open with his shoulder. He knew the kid wanted a cat… even though they had Makkachin, Yurio still begged for a cat almost every night. This had led Viktor to agree that if the teenager got straight A's on his next report, then he would buy the kid a cat… which at the moment, seemed a little farfetched. Yurio wasn't a bad student, he just had trouble adjusting.

Viktor pushed the door harder with his shoulder, pausing briefly, trying to figure out why the damned thing wouldn't budge. He glanced at the door momentarily, trying to figure out if there was a push/ pull sign, before pushing once more with his shoulder. The wooden door moved slightly but failed to open all the way. Behind him, Viktor could hear Yurio snort, no doubt watching his older brother trying to figure out something that should be so simple. Viktor gripped the handle, yanking it harshly, realizing that despite the force, the stupid door still wouldn't open.

He turned to face Yurio, who stood a few feet away, an amused expression etched across his face. Viktor frowned, "Yurio, would you help m-"

The door swung open violently, slamming into Viktor, causing the Russian to stumble, spilling his tea down his shirt, splashing it on the floor, before the wooden door banged against the wall with a loud thump. The café went quiet for a moment before Yurio broke out in laughter, nearly dropping his hot chocolate as his bookbag hit the ground. Viktor grit his teeth, pulling his shirt away from his chest as the hot liquid burned against his flesh, and turned around to face the person responsible, his fists clenched.

"Oh my god, oh my god. I am so sorry. Oh god, I'm really sorry. The door wouldn't open either way, so I figured it was stuck… Oh my god, I'm sorry. Are you okay?" Someone said quickly. Viktor felt his blood boil as he pulled his scarf away from his body, untucking his shirt, hoping Yakov would have a spare one. He bit back a sarcastic comment as he glanced up towards the person apologizing, swallowing loudly as his breath caught in his throat.

Viktor swallowed again as he tried to remember how to breathe. He took in the sight of the man standing a few feet in front of him, feeling red creep across his face as the Japanese man continued to apologize. The other man adjusted his glasses, pushing them up the bridge of his nose gently with his index finger, pulling his red scarf away from his neck as he held it out for Viktor to take. His black hair shook with every syllable, tears forming in his brown eyes as all the anger evaporated from the Russian. Viktor turned to shoot Yurio a hard stare as the teenager continued to laugh loudly, clutching his stomach with his hand as he wiped some tears with his shoulder.

Viktor sighed, turning back around to face the guy still apologizing, "Look, it's fine."

The other man flinched slightly, "W-what?"

Viktor sighed again, "It's fine. It happens. I didn't know there was someone else on the other side of the door. My fault."

The Japanese man faltered for a second before a soft smile crossed his face. Viktor cleared his throat gently, trying his best to ignore the liquid still dripping down his shirt, trying to ignore the fact the guy before him had a nice smile… a great smile. He glanced down at the teenager's bag, motioning for Yurio to pick it up before checking his watch. 8:30am. Shit, Yakov was going to kill him.

Yurio groaned loudly as he picked up his cheetah print bag, slinging it over his shoulder, shoving past the two men standing awkwardly in the doorway. He leaned against the wooden door, taking another sip from his drink as he glanced towards the high school a few blocks down. He shivered slightly as the rain started to soak through his black hoodie, dripping down his blonde hair, bouncing off the lid of his cup.

Viktor ran a hand through his hair, pushing his hands in his pockets as he coughed slightly, "Well, I need to go. Have things to do."

He groaned inwardly at the awkwardness that pushed past his lips. For some reason he was nervous which was weird because he would probably never see this man again. He pushed past the guy gently, taking note that he seemed almost frozen, glued to the spot by the sticky green liquid that coated the ugly speckled floor. He cleared his throat once more, pausing as something caught his arm, turning to see the other man glancing toward him, his warm hand clasped around Viktor's wrist tightly.

"Wait," The guy said softly, "Let me make it up to you. I can buy you another cup of coffee. Or at least some new clothes."

Viktor shook his head, "I don't drink coffee. But thanks."

He turned to leave again, feeling the other guy's hand still clasped around his wrist. A soft blush had started to settle across his pale face and he avoided Yurio's curious gaze as he glanced back towards the other man. He bit his lip at the hurt expression painted across the guy's face, guilt washing over him briefly.

Viktor sighed, "Look, I really have to go. Otherwise he will be late, I'll be late… and that wouldn't be good for anyone. If you really want to make it up to me, how about you buy me lunch?"

The other man's hand dropped from his wrist quickly and Viktor cursed inwardly. He hadn't expected the guy to react, hell he hadn't expected those words to come from his own mouth. Yurio groaned loudly behind them, kicking at some rocks strewn across the pavement. Viktor felt himself freeze, his eyes glued to the other man's face, watching for any indication of emotion, trying to figure out why in the hell he had just asked that. He gulped loudly as he realized his own heartbeat had begun to speed up, realizing he was nervous, realizing he was scared of the guy's answer.

The Japanese man smirked slightly, letting out a soft chuckle as another smile crossed his face, "Yeah, I'd like that. That sounds nice."

Viktor felt a smile break out across his face as Yurio gagged behind him playfully. The older Russian extended his hand slightly, "Viktor Nikiforov."

The other man hesitated for a second, "Katsuki. Yuuri Katsuki. A pleasure to meet you Viktor."

Viktor felt himself blush again as his hand connected with Yuuri's.

"Gross," Yurio spat, kicking at the door behind him, hoping to get Viktor's attention. Viktor rolled his eyes, "Excuse my brother. He can be a brat sometimes."

Yuuri raised an eyebrow, glancing briefly at the teenager behind Viktor, smiling warmly as the younger Russian flipped him off. Yuuri laughed softly, "It's fine. Here… take my scarf for now. It's nasty outside and well, I have another one in my car."

Viktor glanced down at the red fabric clutched in the other man's hand. Red really wasn't his color, and he didn't want to intrude… but he also didn't want to be rude. He nodded slightly, grasping the warm fabric in his hands, his fingers running over the soft cotton gently. It looked homemade.

"Thank you," Viktor nodded slightly.

"Eh? Viktor hurry your ass up! I'm growing older than you out here geezer!" Yurio yelled loudly, tightening his grip around the bookbag dangling from his shoulder.

Viktor nodded again before turning to leave.

"Hey, Viktor. Should we say here around 12pm, tomorrow?" Yuuri asked loudly. Viktor nodded again, turning to give Yuuri a smile before pushing Yurio towards the school.

….

Despite looking focused, Viktor was finding it hard to concentrate on the words Yakov was saying. He stared at the movement of Yakov's lip, trying his best to make out the words leaving the older Russian's mouth, while images from earlier flashed in front of him.

Yuuri's scarf was wrapped loosely around his neck, his warm scent filling Viktor's nostrils with every breath… making it hard to concentrate on anything else except Yuuri Katsuki. He ran his hand absentmindedly through the soft fabric, a goofy smile plastered to his face as Yuuri's words echoed through his head. Should we say here around 12pm, tomorrow?

Something slammed to Viktor's left, causing the younger Russian to jump, his mind pulled from his thoughts.

"Vitya! I asked, are you even paying attention?" Yakov snapped, slamming his hat down on the table harshly. Viktor grit his teeth as Chris snickered next to him, before nodding.

"I swear you think about that damned brother of yours too much Vitya. When are you going to invite him into the family business, eh?" Chris asked softly, pushing Viktor's shoulder with one of his feet that had been resting on the table. Viktor smacked his foot away, clenching his fist, "Never. Yurio doesn't need to know. He'll never be a part of this."

Chris laughed, "What a pity. The kid has some real anger issues… that would come in handy. I'm sure if you let me have a talk with him, I'll be able to persuade the boy."

Viktor shot up quickly, yanking Chris's feet from the table, causing the Swiss to almost lose his balance. "If you touch him," Viktor spat, grasping tightly at the younger man's red shirt, "I swear to God, I'll-"

"Enough!" Yakov yelled, slamming his fists down on the table, causing both men to flinch. Viktor loosened his grip around Chris's shirt, breathing deeply as he slumped back in his chair. "Chris, you know just as well as I do Yurio isn't ready. And Viktor, you know that whether the boy chooses to join isn't up to you. I've let you keep him away from our business for now because it's easier, and because you're the best of the best. Always have been, since you were a boy."

Viktor sighed loudly, running a shaky hand through his hair. It wasn't up to him whether Yurio decided to become part of this family, but until that moment Viktor could make sure he stayed as far away from it as possible. He sighed again, leaning his head back on the chair behind him, staring at the harsh yellow light filtering in through the dusty lamp ahead, casting eerie shadows in the smoky room.

"Now," Yakov started, "Like I was saying, the Yakuza have infiltrated our territory. They've begun to take down the Germans and Italians, making their way through the Russian territory, stealing our products, leaving nothing but blood and shame in their path. I trust you two to end it before Augusto comes to town in a few months. Hit up Pietro tonight, make suree that weasel hasn't been discussing our business with the Japanese. Understood?"

Chris groaned loudly as Viktor swallowed. He promised he'd go to Yurio's practice tonight… but there was no way he could go against Yakov. Maybe he'd be able to catch the end of his performance. Maybe Yurio wouldn't notice he wasn't there…

Chris stood to move, nodding towards Yakov, pulling his gun from his belt, checking his rounds before placing it back. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, shaking the case towards Viktor, who shook his head and stood up gently. Viktor glanced at the papers littering Yakov's desk, the pictures, the notes, the map marked with X's next to some dead guy's name… all of it familiar and yet, foreign.

Viktor had been in this business for a long time… since he was 13, when his father died. Yakov had taken them both in, offering a helping hand to two orphans if Viktor agreed to work for him. At first, it started out as small crimes- petty theft, hijacking cars, hell, he once helped the older Russian rob a bank… but now, after almost 14 years, it was starting to get old.

Viktor cleared his throat, shoving his hands in his pocket as Yakov walked around his desk, pulling his chair from the wooden table.

"Oh, and Viktor?" He questioned, watching the Swiss flirt with one of the girls dusting the foyer. Viktor looked up towards Yakov, taking in his wrinkled face, nodding gently.

"If you see Nick, I want you to give him my regards. Got it?" Yakov asked. Viktor bit his lip, but nodded slowly. He sighed, turning to leave.

"Viktor? One more thing."

The younger Russian stood in the doorway, clasping the cool metal handle in his hand, pulling his gloves from his pocket, looking back towards the cloud of smoke that surrounded the older man's head.

"Remember our deal. When your brother turns 18, he'll come work for me."

Viktor sucked in a sharp breath, nodding slowly. Two more years. He had two more years to figure a way out of this, otherwise…

Viktor closed the door gently, grasping at the gun Chris handed him, measuring the weight in his hands carefully. He let his long fingers trace over the cold metal, almost admiring the slick black frame. He opened the magazine clip, checking the number of bullets present, before closing it gently. He pulled his gloves on slowly, his mind wondering to Yurio briefly, then to Yuuri in the coffee shop…

Two more years… then he was done.

…

"So-So it was all a lie then?" Yuuri yelled loudly, the gun in his hand shaking slightly as tears streamed down his face. The air that occupied Viktor's lungs escaped harshly as the question hit him harder than a bullet. Viktor shook his head as Yuuri took a step forward, lowering his gun slightly.

Something fell upstairs, followed by glass shattering and Viktor felt a chill run down his spine. Dust, smoke, and the scent of blood filled the air, making the thick oxygen hard to breathe. Yuuri coughed loudly, fighting the pain that washed through his body, ignoring the broken bones on his side as he struggled to hold the gun steady, memories hitting him in waves. He swallowed loudly as he repeated the question.

Viktor grasped the gun in his hand, feeling his fingers tighten around the cold metal as hatred flowed through him. He hated Yakov. He hated Chris, and Augusto. Hell, he hated himself. More than anything. Viktor felt tears stream down his face as he watched the expression shift on Yuuri's face once more, and the Russian shook his head again.

"If you, if you honestly believe that," Viktor whispered, his voice wavering as Yuuri took another step, "then we were doomed from the start."

Viktor herd something heavy hit the ground and looked down to see Yuuri's gun lying at his feet. He swallowed loudly as tears continued to wash down his face. He was angry. Angry at himself. Angry at Yakov. Angry at Yuuri. This needed to stop, this needed to end… and it could only end one way. Otherwise…

Viktor sucked in a shaky breath as Yuuri took another step forward, shaking his head.

"I'm not going to kill you… I-I can't…I love you," Yuuri said, wiping at the tears that continued to flow down his blood-stained cheeks. Viktor shook his head again as he glanced at the floor. He didn't have choice. If you don't kill him Viktor, I'll kill the kid…

One year. One wonderful year; one messy, fun year, and despite everything, Viktor Nikiforov never thought it would come down to this. He tightened his grip on the gun shaking in his head, feeling wet tears drip from his chin as he raised his head slowly. Yuuri had stepped closer, a few feet from Viktor now, and the Russian jumped slightly, nearly tripping on half broken table lying on the floor behind him. He let out a choked sob as he raised the gun in his hand, biting his trembling lip and looking away as shock and pain etched across Yuuri's face. I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this... I love you too. But if I don't…. Viktor took a deep breath before turning back to face Yuuri, and then he pulled the trigger.