Time is a funny little thing, it flows at a constant rate unchanged by the things around it. No matter how strong the stone it will turn to no more than dust changed by the unchanging. A mere concept of the mind, intangible and impossible to even prove the existence of, and yet we move to it, by it, through it at a constant rate. Time is a slave to no one but itself and a cruel master of all things living and not. A cruel master indeed taking loved ones from us and destroying loved things, places, even treasured memories aren't safe from time's destructive touch. No one is safe, not even the immortal, not even him. There was something funny about being immortal, a being supposedly untouchable by time, but the reality is that the only thing time cannot touch is itself. The truth to immortality was little known to man, but time, he and I knew the truth, us three alone bared the weight of the word in fullness and yet I watched him die on several occasions. Immortal, what a foolish term, how can one stand to watch the world change never changing, no that was the false promise in his words when he asked me to join him in that cruel fate.
Victor never meant false in his heart, I know he didn't but I wanted to believe in never leaving his side from the moment his eyes met mine. He had no pretense about what it truly meant, but back then I was such a fool to not listen. We weren't immortal then, not now either. We made waves in the world hoping that our story, our lives would be listed to those who would come long after we had gone. For that is the truth in being immortal, to be remembered. The first time I watched him die it was December, a harsh winter that year, the lake was frozen over but by no means as nice as being in the rink, but the sun called to Victor and so we'd gone out. We skated on that lake for hours than he never skated again. He had come down wrong in a jump and the injury ended his career, the light and happiness in his eyes that day.
It was hard to deny that he missed the ice, or how he detested coaching from the sidelines. Things got better for a while, the media was still all over him and people wanted to meet him, the legendary Victor Nikiforov. It didn't last very long though, and I watched him die another death when it was realized the world was moving on, and soon would forget the living legend. He kept to himself for over a month before he seemed to be slightly okay again, but something always seemed to be missing in his eyes, they lacked that spark I'd grown so used to. I retired not long after to spend my time trying to bring back that spark.
The third time I watched Victor die was what at the time I thought the hardest time. We'd lived a long and happy life despite his injury and my anxiety. At some point, we had asked Mari to be a surrogate mother so we could have a child and by now they'd grown and begun their own journeys in life. Victor had a habit of going to bed late and sleeping in until I woke him with breakfast, I remember I'd gone to bed early that night not feeling well. I'd kissed Victor good night and told him I loved him. Those were the last words he ever heard me say and I wouldn't change that for anything, knowing he left knowing I loved him. I awoke the next morning with him beside me as always, unaware I went about my usual routine, I dressed and went to make eggs for us along with a fresh pot of coffee to start our morning. He, Victor, he wouldn't wake up though, he wasn't breathing. He was already cold, sometime in the night he slipped away from me while laying right there. I don't remember much else besides screaming, which Yura later told me was from me.
I don't remember the funeral or several weeks after you passed, I do however remember the press was all over it. They called you a legend again for the first time in many years, the first time they asked me about life with a legend I corrected them by mistake that your title was living legend. The reporter, that poor young man didn't have the heart to correct me, but I could see it in his eyes, the sympathy. It was because of Yura and Minami that I got through it, our child was busy and had no time for grieving with me, I'm sure you'd have understood if you were here Victor. Oh, my dear sweet Victor, I could put off truly accepting you were gone because everywhere I looked there you were. Online, on TV, in the paper, in the magazines. I thought in death maybe you'd finally truly became immortal, but it didn't last. The world could only mourn you for so long, time was a cruel master, after all, it stopped for no one even you. I watched you die one last time in those days. It was difficult to accept it, even though it'd been a month since we laid you to rest.
I am old now Victor, older than you were when you left. It's been a long time since that fateful Grand Prix Final, you've died four times on me and now it feels almost my time to join you. I wanted to write the tale of the immortal truth so even after I'm gone you'll be remembered forever even if only in this tale, but it seems that it's turned more so into a letter to you. To Victor, dearest, darling, dead. I hope that you will be there waiting for me in a place forgotten by time, I have much to tell you. It's been a long ten years Victor, a very long ten years.
Immortally Yours
Katsuki Yuuri