Side-story to 'The Real Podium Family' but can be read independently.

Support me on (winglesscrows) for one week early access and more.

The first time Chris had seen Viktor had been through a television. He had just turned fourteen and he was supposed to join the junior ranks in figure skating in the upcoming season. It had therefore been important to him that he watched the Junior World Championships live, so that he would know what the competition was like. After all, Chris had dreams of winning an Olympic medal, and while he would be just a year too young to go to Torino, he had his eyes set on Vancouver. And surely, the skaters at this Junior World Championship held those same dreams. Chris wanted to know how far behind he was.

Chris had watched with awe as people only a couple of years older than him had mastered things he could only dream of. The triple axels that some of the older juniors performed were so good, and Chris thought they would definitely go senior next year. They were amazing and Chris hoped that when he joined them, he could be just as good. No, even better, they were his competition. However, for as good as these nameless skaters were, no one caught his eye like a young Russian competitor.

The skater stood out amongst the others, not only because of his long silver hair and his pretty costume covered in rhinestones, no, it was the way he held himself and smiled to all the people around him that made Chris' heart beat faster. He didn't know his name until it was called on the speaker, and he committed the name to memory. Viktor. Viktor Nikiforov.

His skating was just as beautiful as his looks and his smile. It was light and smooth and playful, and suddenly Chris didn't understand what the others had done that could have impressed him. Not when there was Viktor.

It felt only natural that Viktor would win the competition with the highest score ever set by a junior.

The very next day, Chris asked his coach about Viktor and she showed him some of his programs, which she had on a tape. Chris was bewitched by his skating, and he told her that he wanted to compete against him. She smiled and told him that Viktor would turn senior next season. Chris smiled back at her. He still had one year until he could legally turn senior, so he would use that year to its fullest.

The first time Chris spoke to Viktor was two years later and it was during Chris' first season as a senior. As the World Junior silver medalist, Chris had gotten two grand prix assignments, but none of them had coincided with Viktor's. Viktor, who was now World bronze medalist. He had hoped to join Viktor in the Finals, but he hadn't medalled in any of his competitions and he had watched the Finals from his bedroom, watching as Viktor has fought his way to a silver medal.

But now, here they were, together, in the same arena, for the same competition. It was the European Championship, and after winning silver at his own Nationals (although not as good as Viktor's Russian National title), he had been assigned to attend the competition. He had been very proud of his accomplishment, and he felt even luckier to be able to witness Viktor skate in person for the very first time.

Chris remembered skating in the free skate group just before Viktor, and he remembered thinking about how he would like to stand on that podium with Viktor today. He wanted nothing more than for Viktor to acknowledge him. From what Chris had read, from what Chris had seen, Viktor didn't have a rival. All top skaters had a rival, Chris believed that to be true, and he would like to be Viktor's. He would like to be the one Viktor would want to beat, he would want Viktor to pay attention to him, and he would want the two of them to be friends.

When Viktor won the competition and received his medal, Chris was in the stance. He was not sad that he didn't medal. If anything, he was proud of his personal bests that he had acquired today, but still, he would like for Viktor to notice him. He saw his chance as Viktor exited the rink and called out to him.

With a blue rose and a promise to meet again at worlds, Chris smiled.

Over the next couple of years, Chris exchanged few words with Viktor. He still felt starstruck when Viktor was close. It was the same feeling he got whenever he met with Stephane Lambiel, another idol of his. The feeling of watching someone so awe-inspiring and amazing, the feeling of wanting to be like them. The only difference was that Viktor was so close to his age. Idols are normally someone much older than you, someone who inspired you while you were young. And Viktor had inspired him, but he had been so young himself as he had, and Chris could not help but think that watching Viktor grow and mature, could only be a blessing.

Four years after that first meeting, the European Championship was held in Bern, Switzerland. It was the very first time that Chris would represent Switzerland as its national champion, and he wanted to prove himself by winning this event in his home country. Last year, he had gotten the closest to a European medal he had ever had. A fourth place finish, half a point away from bronze. This year he was stronger in every way. He had matured, his body had grown and his skills had been polished. He was ready.

Viktor hadn't won the event since he had given Chris the rose - it had been all silvers since his last victory. Although, Viktor had not even attended last year. Instead, he had prepared for the Olympics, which he had taken by storm, and won with another world record set. After he had won, people had wondered if he would retire. Chris had laughed at the rumours. Viktor wouldn't retire just because he won the Olympics, no, Viktor lived to perform on the ice. It was what made him different. It was why Chris loved to see him skate, more than anyone, because Viktor didn't just do it for the gold and the victory. Viktor skated for his audience. Chris would like to think that he was the same, but upon entering the rink for his first practice, all he thought of was gold.

"Good luck tonight," someone said and patted him on the shoulder. Chris turned and looked at Viktor, who smiled at him. Chris didn't know if smiled back, but he did notice that he had grown as tall as Viktor. Interesting.

"Thank you," Chris said quickly, and then after a second added, "You too."

Viktor flashed a bright smile at him before exiting the rink and joining his coach. Those were the kinds of interactions they had had over the last couple of years, and while Chris treasured each and every one of them, he wished to be able to talk to Viktor without getting tongue-tied.

Chris didn't have the chance to talk to Viktor again until after the free skate. They were standing by the rink, waiting for the staff to set up the necessary things needed for the medal ceremony. Chris was quite pleased with his result. It wasn't quite the gold medal he had dreamed of, but a silver was good enough. Viktor was back as the European champion, and the point difference between the two of them had been so incredibly small that it hardly mattered to Chris what the colour of his medal was.

This was the perfect opportunity, Chris thought, and turned around to hopefully start a conversation with his idol. But one look at Viktor made Chris rethink his decision. Viktor was looking at him. Intensely. It was almost like Viktor had something to say, something Chris thought he didn't want to hear, but he didn't say anything. Chris couldn't possibly think of why or how he had upset Viktor, but he felt like he had done something wrong, and the couldn't talk to him unless he figured that out.

Chris didn't get the chance to talk to Viktor before the ceremony started, and when it did, Viktor put on his famously beautiful smile as he waved to audience and received his medal.

After the press conference, Chris was surprised when Viktor came running up to him in an empty hallway. The only person other than the two of them was Chris' own coach, though it seemed like Viktor's coach wasn't far away, judging by his non-stop yelling of Viktor's name.

Viktor had that intense look in his eyes again, and Chris was about to apologize for… something. He didn't really know what, but surely, Viktor wanted him to apologize.

"I want you to have this," Viktor said suddenly and held out his gold medal, as if expecting Chris to take it. Which was insane. Why would he take it? Chris could only stare dumbfounded at Viktor.

"Excuse me?" He said, bewildered. Clearly, Viktor had to be joking or pulling a prank.

"Please take it," Viktor insisted, but Chris did not take it. Viktor had won that medal, he had regained his European title. Why on earth would he want Chris to have it? They didn't even know each other that well.

"I don't understand-" Chris began, but he was interrupted by Viktor's angry coach.

"Vitya! I told you not to-" His coach sighed, "I'm sorry to have bothered your skater, Josef," he apologized and then took Viktor by the arm, "I'll free you from him."

Before the angry coach could drag him away from Chris, Viktor placed the medal in Chris' hands.

"I can't keep this..." Chris mumbled to himself when he was back in his hotel room. He had disregarded his own silver medal, to admire Viktor's gold. The only difference between them was the colour, but the gold medal in Chris' hands felt heavier than his own. Perhaps it was because it wasn't his, and how could he look at this without thinking that he hadn't won it. Viktor had won it and gifted it to him. For what? Because he felt sorry for him that he didn't win the event in his home country when he had been just a point away from it? Pity didn't seem like a trait of the Viktor he looked up to, so therefore, that couldn't be it. Viktor was a man of respect and honour, and Chris mentally facepalmed when he realized that he was more or less describing the qualities of a noble knight in the middle ages.

He had to find Viktor. Hopefully before the banquet. Chris didn't know when Viktor would be leaving, and he couldn't be seen giving the medal back to Viktor in public. What if people thought that he had stolen it? He really didn't want those kinds of rumours about himself. Especially not with how he was rising through the ranks.

Without knowing what room Viktor was in, Chris began to search the hotel.

Chris went through over twenty rooms until he knocked on the door of a person who knew where Viktor was. During that time he had gotten weird stares, an autograph from a Spanish skater he quite liked, and the number of a French ice dancer, who was a year older than Chris and ridiculously handsome. He would save that for later, perhaps as a reward for giving Viktor his medal back.

He found Viktor at the restaurant bar. In his mind, Viktor never got drunk, he barely even touched alcohol, only ever the celebratory champagne or perhaps a glass of the finest red wine. Chris realized that he had so many assumptions about Viktor that he didn't really understand where came from. It was almost like he had painted this perfect picture of him in his mind, and perhaps that was why he found it hard to talk to him. Chris was a sociable guy. He got along with everyone, but with Viktor it had always been a little strained. The few conversations they had had were always something of a formality, and when it ever extended past that, it turned awkward. Chris knew that it was because of how he viewed Viktor, which was why he had wanted to befriend him. So that it would be, perhaps, less awkward.

"Hi," Chris greeted Viktor cheerfully, and he was met with a smile. A signature Nikiforov smile which made all of its victims weak in their knees.

"Christophe," Viktor smiled, "Did you come to get a drink.? I'll buy you one."

Although that wasn't really among Chris' plans, who was he to turn down that offer, "Sure, thanks," he said and took a seat beside him, "You can call me Chris. All my friends do." The words were out of his mouth before he knew it. Would Viktor think him presumptuous to call them friends?

"Do you consider me a friend?" Viktor asked curiously, and Chris averted his gaze.

"Only if you do," he said, "I mean, consider me a friend."

"I would love to be your friend, Chris!" Viktor said cheerfully. Of course, Chris couldn't know how much Viktor had drunk before he got there, but an epiphany struck Chris at that moment. Between the two of them, the awkward one wasn't him, it was Viktor. Who on earth made friends like that? He wanted to laugh, but that would have been weird.

"I actually came to give you back your medal," he said and fished it out of his pocket, "Here. You shouldn't just give these to people."

Viktor sighed as he took back the medal. He examined it for a while, before pushing it aside. The bartender refilled Viktor's glass and gave Chris his drink.

"Why did you give it to me?" Chris asked curiously, and was surprised to see Viktor's face slowly morph into a pout.

"You should have won," Viktor said, almost whined, and to preserve the image of him that Chris had made in his mind, he blamed Viktor's behaviour on the alcohol.

"That's dumb," Chris stated plainly, and Viktor would probably have looked hurt at the statement if he hadn't looked so utterly offended.

"It is not dumb, " Viktor defended, "It is a fact."

Chris looked at him like he was going mad, "If it was a fact that I should have won, then they would have given me the gold medal. In fact, I think you were underscored in the short program."

Viktor looked even more shocked, "You think I was underscored? Look, Chris, " Viktor said his name like Chris had offended his dog. Viktor was known to only ever be rude to people who spoke ill about his dog, "You are clearly blind, because you definitely got robbed of a personal best in the short program-"

"You know what my personal best is?" Chris interrupted, because he didn't even know that Viktor had paid attention to his score or his skate, let alone knew what his personal best was. Hell, Chris only knew what Viktor's personal best was because most of them were world records.

"Of course I do," Viktor said as if Chris had asked if he knew that the sky was blue, "But the real issue was the free skate. I was never that good at the lutz-" Viktor began, and Chris felt a monologue coming so he started sipping his drink, "-but I have been improving, you know. But tonight it just didn't work for me, I knew before I even jumped that it wouldn't work. So when I saw my score I was so happy, because it was high even with my mistakes, so clearly the GOE would have been really good."

Chris nodded along as Viktor rambled on about why Chris should have won. He wasn't quite sure yet what Viktor was trying to say.

"But then I looked at the protocol, and they hadn't marked my mistake. And I know I made a mistake because Yakov wouldn't shut up about it in the Kiss & Cry, like, I get it. Yakov, my lutz is horrible. But then you started to skate, and I really like you programs this year, by the way-"

"Thanks..."

"And I was so sure you were going to win, and then you didn't, and all because they didn't mark my mistake. This might be a judged sport, but some things are just unacceptable, and I really think you should keep the medal," Viktor slid the gold medal across the bar again, but Chris refused to take it and shoved it into Viktor's hands.

"That is ridiculous, Viktor," Chris began, "You were clearly better than me during both programs. One unmarked mistake shouldn't change that."

"But it would have changed the standings! This isn't an issue about fourth or fifth place. This is about who wins! "

Chris shook his head, "Mon Dieu, you are an actual idiot."

"Excuse me?!"

"The gold was clearly yours, mistake or not. The points you would have lost if they called out your mistakes they just took elsewhere. I mean, how have you not received a ten in presentation, or interpretation or any component yet? It's clear as day that the judges don't award you the scores you deserve. Everyone knows this."

"But you had two clean programs and I did not!"

"I had easier programs than you! That's like saying that a person who only jumps doubles should win against a person who only does triples, if the last person falls once. That makes no sense."

Chris shook his head in disbelief. Was this really Viktor Nikiforov, Russian star and Olympic champion, or was this some twisted drunk version of Viktor that Chris had just happened to find? He couldn't tell. Clearly, Viktor was not entirely sober, but he didn't slur his words, or even smell of alcohol. With the exception of the ludacris nonsense that he was spouting, he did not seem drunk.

"You know what," Chris said at least, "If you really think I should have beaten you, then let's wait and see at Worlds. If I win then, I will accept your wild theory."

"And you will accept the medal?" Viktor asked brightly

"Absolutely not. Thanks for the drink," Chris said and bid the gold medalist good night. That, Chris thought, was enough for tonight.

At the banquet, Viktor approached him again, although this time, he didn't try to give him a medal. He just handed him a glass of champagne.

"Sorry for what happened at the bar," Viktor said quietly, not letting anyone listen in, "I was just really upset about the results."

"But now you understand that you deserved to win?" Chris finished for him and Viktor looked at him in confusion.

"No, I still think you should have won and if you ever want the medal, I'll give it to you."

"Maybe we should start having conversations when you're sober," Chris wondered out loud and Viktor grinned.

"Sounds good," he said and pulled up his phone, "Can I have your number?"

Chris gave it to him gladly.

Having Viktor's contact in his phone would make him a friend, that was what Chris thought at least, but friends should text each other. Chris texted with his other friends. Maybe not often, but he never went more than two months without texting someone he considered a friend. With Viktor, however, it had been four months of radio silence. Viktor was fairly active on social media, and Chris had assumed he would be the same with him, but there was nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Viktor Nikiforov was a mystery to Chris. He had always kind of been mysterious, but Chris had taken that as a part of his brand, not as a personality trait. Chris wasn't like that. Chris loved his friends, and Chris would text his friends no matter what.

Chris opened his phone and found the text messages him and Viktor had exchanged. There were exactly two messages. The first one had been from Viktor and it said: good luck! It had been sent the day before the short program at Worlds. Chris had replied with: good luck to you too! And had cringed at how awfully stiff it sounded.

Chris didn't actually know what he wanted to talk about, so he just stared at his phone for a while before typing up a question he had always wanted to ask Viktor: why did you cut your hair?

It took Viktor three full days to answer, and when he did answer, it was the most anti-climactic answer Chris could have imagined: just felt like it.

Chris frowned. He was not that bad at holding a conversation, clearly, Viktor was the one at fault here. He typed up another message: why didn't you reply?

Soon after, Viktor responded: lost my phone, accidently put it in the fridge.

Chris looked at the text, whether Viktor was joking or completely serious, it didn't change the fact that he was clearly a lot weirder than Chris had ever thought. Wasn't Viktor supposed to be perfect? An angel who had come to graze humanity with his skating? It would seem that that was not the case.

Chris tried to text Viktor often, and despite the sometimes boring or extremely weird replies, he began to find it fun and looked forward to whatever Viktor had to tell him that day. Chris also started putting some things about his new friend together. It was clear that Viktor didn't have a whole lot of close friends. He would sometimes mention going out to dinner with friends, but they hardly seemed like people Viktor would invite over to his apartment for sleepovers. Viktor was also a huge bookworm, apparently. The longest reply Chris had ever gotten from him was when he had asked what his favorite book was and Viktor had replied with five extremely long messages explaining what exactly he liked about his favorite book (Chris may or may not have bought that book the next day just to understand Viktor's enthusiasm).

Chris also learned that Viktor was a bit of a loner. Not necessarily in a bad way, but the third time Viktor texted him saying that he wanted to lock himself in his apartment and just cuddle with his dog all day long, Chris kind of knew that he wasn't naturally a people-person. Or maybe that he wasn't a people-person all the time.

The two of them also started exchanging pictures and videos of their pets, which gave Chris a small look into Viktor's more childish nature. The more Chris learned about his new friend, the less the Viktor of his mind made any sense. He wondered how he had ever been so wrong about him.

When the season began again, the two of them met at a grand prix assignment. This time Chris approached Viktor and didn't hesitate giving him a hug.

"Hey," Viktor said, faking being in shock, "You're taller than me now!"

"Maybe this is the season I finally beat you then?" Chris teased and Viktor gave him a mischievous smile in return.

"You already beat me in Bern though."

"You are hopeless!" Chris exclaimed and gave Viktor a shove.

Viktor laughed, and Chris was certain that he had found a friend for life.

(That season, Viktor won every single competition he competed in, and when Chris got silver at Worlds, Viktor didn't ask if they could swap medals. He only asked if Chris wanted to visit him during the summer.)

Hope you enjoyed :)