He was beautiful. He was amazing. He was cheerful. He was sunny. He was loving.
He was loved.
So many people loved Emil Nekola. His behaviour, his smile, his everything.
So why, why did Michele Crispino, the grumpy, hateful Italian obsessed with his sister think that he had a chance?
He never told him anything. He didn't tell him he liked the way his cheeks squished when he smiled. He liked the way his hair stuck out in every way possible. He liked his quiet humming. He liked his determination to make the world a better place. He liked his skating.
His pride. His big, fat pride. He never admitted anything. He didn't want to be the "begging one". He didn't want people to be with out of pity. He wanted people to apperciate him first.
When he saw that Instagram post, he was... he was furious. Hurt. And later, when Sala just shook her head and gave up trying to explain, when everybody around fell asleep and darkness was holding him in her powerful arms, he also felt sad.
The beauty next to him in the picture. How long has he dated her for? Who is she?
"Mickey, podívej! Není úžasná?!" Emil excitedly pointed at a young girl on his phone playing a piano and singing."Emil! Dammit you know I don't know your Czech so why do you keep using it around me?!" He looked at him for a second and then laughed and apologized and continued rambling, but Micky didn't hear anything more. Who was the girl Emil was so excited about that he switched to his mother language? Why did he stare at the video with pure adoration, even... love?
He just didn't remember it, okay?! He just wasn't listening! If he did... He'd know, he wouldn't have...
"I'm sorry! God damnit I'm sorry! I am begging on my knees, what else do you want?!"
He was lying on a hospital bed, pale and peaceful, but he just couldn't look angelic without his smile.
She came in, crying and he had to leave.
It was all her fault. If it wasn't for her, Emil would love him and only him.
"Mickey... I miss him too, but... It's like you are blaming yourself for it..."
"Go away Sala. You don't understand..."
"Then explain. You can trust me, you know you can."
He could. He could tell her everything. It was Sala, his twin, his soulmate. He can tell her anything.
They were all saying how Emil Nekola was not supposed to die so early, in this way.
Then she came in, on the stage. She was crying and speaking Czech, but Michele didn't bother listening to the translation. It was her fault.
"Poor Kristinka," said Sala as soon as they left. "She must be heartbroken."
"Who's that?" he asked, not caring a bit.
Sala stopped for a second and then ran back under umbrella with him and into their car. "His sister? Kristina. He told us about her a lot. He also posted a picture on his Instagram with her a few days before he... passed away. And a couple of them before. Even some of her performances on piano and singing. You know, the girl in long black dress. Their parents didn't like them, but they meant the world and mire for each other. She has eyes like him and a bit darker hair. Slim. About 170 centimentres."
She was not his girlfriend...
She was his...
Sister.
If he only listened before...
She was fifteen. Fifteen. She was practically alone now. From Sala, he knew she's been playing tragic songs and just random tunes all day. She released a vidoe a week after his death singing and playing 'If you say so' by Lea Michele and later 'My skin' by Natalie Merchant.
Then she stopped eating. She was hospitalized and let back home. Sala tried to talk to her but Kristina was not ready yet.
Kristina.
Her name, face and guilt, together with him, they were the only thing on his mind.
"It's my fault. I... I opened his gas and put some poison in his food. I knew they'll say he could do it by accident. He... I didn't want him to die! Or maybe I did for a while, I just... I didn't know she was his sister! I thought they were together! I loved him... but I was too proud to tell him and now... I just couldn't bear the thought of him loving somebody else! I'm sorry! I just want his guilt to stop!"
"Mickey..."
"Just go, Sala."
Four walls. One door. One window. One bed. A table. A chair.
White and grey.
People talking to him. Feeding him. Asking him. He did all they wanted. It was the minimum he could do.
Sala didn't report him. He did. He wrote a letter and gave it to the secretary in police crime department. They came for him later that day.
Kristina showed up with her parents and while they talked to the police, she just wanted to see the man that killed her brother.
They didn't sit down and stare at each other, they didn't cry.
"I am sad that you didn't know that there's enough love for everyone. Emil could love all the people on the Earth and you'd still get the same portion you were getting until... I know you didn't know who I was. But I will not be able to forgive you for a while, if ever," she stood up and left. Thet was all the time she could spend around Michele and all she had to say
Two years. That's all he lasted. He stabbed himself with a butter knife and doctors didn't manage to save him.
If he was able to think, he'he'd ve bitter about hiw they are trying to save his life, despite him brutally taking one.
He didn't see his face, Sala's face, Kristina's face. He was delirious and that's how he, Michele Crispino left this world.
...
I don't own Yuri on Ice.