Viktor didn't like the idea of self-pity. He admitted to being lonely before, the lack of friends and busy schedule didn't help, but he knew he had something more to offer to the world than that missing part of him. Ever since his mother got rid of him he tried to excel in everything and to show that he wasn't just another social case, a poor orphan. Life was not that easy, people were not going to always coo him and accept his faults just because he had a poor start in life, he was aware of that and that was why he tried to stay up for himself.
By the age 18, Viktor had a total of 2 friends – Georgi Popovich and his best friend, Christophe Giacometti. They both knew of his sexual orientation and neither of them abandoned him because of that, in fact, Christophe seemed more than understanding, even thrilled by the realisation. It has always been hard for him to keep secrets, he was the type of man to wear his heart on a sleeve so he told Yakov before others could, making the man beg him to be careful because Russia was the country they were living in. Russia – cold Russia, where people were targeting gay people every day, beating them, spitting on them, killing them. It was also a matter of publicity – he would have lost tons of sponsors if he would have outed himself so he chose to shut up and pretend he simply wasn't interested in "trivial things" such as love and relationships.
Everyone believed he was a natural, that he was a prodigy child who one day just managed to jump a triple axel but that wasn't the case; he was always the last to leave the rink, even if his body was sore and his knees were trembling. The ring belonged to the Russian team until 8 PM when the sports teams were coming to train. It was either the hockey team or the curling team, either way they were all solid, muscular men who were yelling from the top of their lungs as soon as they were entering the place. Viktor didn't have a type but he had to admit that there were some pretty faces in those bunches. The curling team had trainings on Wednesdays and Fridays and during those days, the Russian spotted one guy always watching him while skating. He would sneak inside while the other members of the team were still changing into the equipment and lean against the metallic fence, silently admiring the sensual moves that he was trying to integrate in his future routine. There was no intimidation so he didn't pay too much attention to the curious blues until one night when the boy stopped him, asking him if he could spare a moment.
His name was Andrei and he wanted to take Viktor out on a date. He was tall and pretty muscular but his soft blues made the silver-haired boy think of a child so he accepted, keeping his head high as if his heart wasn't threatening to jump out of his chest. Their first dates have been beautiful – they kissed right away, when Andrei drove Viktor back home and he seemed to understand what a sportive man's life demanded because he never complained about the busy schedules. The gold medallist always felt a little too much so it was no wonder it's been only a matter of days until he fell head over heels for Andrei. He was beautiful and kind and...
They were supposed to meet on Friday at 10 PM for some drinks but Viktor had no idea when the time flew. He dressed himself prettily, made sure his nails were on point, his hair in a messy bun. He knew he was good looking and he acted like it. It was 10:20 when he arrived in front of the skating ring (that was their usual meeting point) and he didn't notice the grim expression on his lover's face. He smiled widely but a slap took him by surprise, making him almost lose his balance.
"I waited for almost half a fucking hour." As little as Viktor's mom cared for him, she never once hit him so he had no idea how to behave. "Make sure it won't happen again."
"It won't." He answered hurriedly, the sting burning even more because of the cold air hitting his skin.
"I love you, Viktor."
It was the first time someone he dated said that to him so his heart began to flutter rapidly, the pain long forgotten. Andrei loved him – Andrei who had tens of friends to go out with, who was the popular guy in the team, who received love confessions after every game.
"I love you too."
When Viktor walked back home that night he felt like crying. He didn't know exactly why but what he knew is that he couldn't share what he was feeling with anyone because they might think something was wrong with him. Yakov was still up, watching TV when he closed the door behind him so he faked the brightest smile, knowing it was futile and that his coach was going to see right through it.
"Vitya? You came back sooner than I expected." That was his way of asking how his date went.
"It's been a long day, I'm a bit tired." The grumpy old man scanned him from head to toe before exhaling loudly and nodding once, his eyes sliding back to the thick screen of their TV.
"Good night!"
"Night, Yakov!" He hurried to the bedroom where he locked himself in, looking at his phone that was still buzzing with messages from Christophe. He missed his friend, he planned on visiting him this year but he didn't know exactly when he could afford such luxury. He answered the texts, informing him about the colourful drinks he ordered. "I need to treat you to some cocktails sometimes." "I can't wait to see you." "I miss you." Chris was a lovely human being but he was thousands of kilometres away and no matter how many times a day they would message and call each other, at the end of the day he was still lying alone in his bed.
Andrei was very rough when they had sex. He liked to bite (to mark him so everyone would understand he was taken), to slap and to leave him sore and a part of Viktor really liked that because the way he was manhandled took all the weight off his shoulders. He liked to be taken care of, he liked to be told what to do because there were so many aspects of his life that was stressing him. Sometimes, he wondered if they didn't push it too much, if the violent pain of his back and hips was exaggerated but he always chased those thoughts away because Andrei loved him, he always reminded him that.
His bruises were mostly because of the sex but there were exceptions. Like that one time when Viktor went out with the curling team and made the others laugh. Andrei took him to the bathroom and grabbed a fistful of his hair, calling him a whore for trying to impress other men while his was still around.
"I was –" He was choking on sobs. "I was tr-trying to be nice." That's when Andrei forced him on his knees and ordered him to suck. Afterwards he was bathed in a sea of "I love yous" and "I was just kidding." "it's a game – our game, isn't it?"
It was bittersweet – some days were heaven, Viktor was spoiled and kissed from head to toe and that was when all the will to leave was crumbling. When Yakov spotted bruises on his hand he excused himself by saying he's been clumsy, which was the stupidest idea. Viktor Nikiforov was not some klutz, he was one of the most graceful people to walk on Earth and everyone who said otherwise was a fool.
Christophe seemed to dislike this guy a lot for no particular reason, that left the Russian with a sour taste in his mouth. He wondered why. Sure, Andrei was not perfect but neither was he and so far, he was the only one to accept Viktor's "clinginess" as the others named it. If the skater felt lonely in the middle of the night, he was welcomed to take a cab to Andrei's place because the man's arms were always opened for him. It went on for a year, some months better than the others.
"You're the only person I ever admitted to have loved."
"You're beautiful."
"You're talented."
"You're special to me."
"I couldn't imagine my life without you."
"If you love me, you have to do what I say."
Sweets words were spinning inside of Viktor's head while he was looking at himself in the mirror, wondering what kind of lie could cover the violet patch around his swollen eye. It's been a jealousy crisis - the barista complimented him quite a lot and Andrei believed polite answers and smiles meant his boyfriend couldn't wait to jump in the other's pants. Of course he didn't say anything while they were in public because he was not stupid but once they got to his place, he hit and it was harder than ever. The yells were deafening and what followed, made Viktor want to vomit because the sheets were filled with blood and his body was almost numb. He wanted to scream "no" but he had no right to talk so he silently took everything he was given, until he blacked out.
When he woke up, Andrei was sleeping on his side of bed, facing away like always. The silver-haired boy's heartbeat went crazy as soon as he slowly removed himself from the bed, trying to keep himself from looking at what he considered the crime scene. His knees almost gave out on the way to the bathroom and he gasped when he saw the way his face looked like. He washed his face carefully and wetted a towel so he could clean his body before going back to the bedroom and dressing his clothes. They were ruined and all he wanted was to get out of them, even if they were the most expensive they owned. He grabbed his phone and saw it was 5 AM, found some texts and missed calls from Yakov – the man was probably already up and drinking his coffee. Viktor never felt more relieved at the thought.
The taxi driver wasn't talkative, which was a blessing and as soon as he reached the front door, he felt tears sliding down his frozen cheeks. He entered the hall, discharging his shoes and hanging his coat and heard calculated steps coming to him.
"Vitya?" No answer. "Where in the world –" Yakov spent one good hour preparing a traditional scolding speech but his words failed to come out at the sight. Viktor's face was a mess and it surely wasn't because of the tears and snot. "What the hell happened to you, kid?" His voice was trembling and rage began rising its ugly head when shaking arms wrapped around him. He has never seen Viktor crying like this, not even when his mother dropped him off, abandoning him and never looking back, not when he thought he broke his leg a few years ago, so he patted his head, letting him calm down.
"He - he –"
"I'll rip his head off." As cold-hearted as he wanted to seem, Yakov would have killed for Viktor. No more words were spoken, instead he let the boy take a bath and rest, knowing it wasn't the right time to ask questions. He suspected long ago it was that Andrei's fault but he tried not to think about it because he trusted Viktor not to be stupid enough to stay if he was treated badly. He forgot how emotionally unstable he was.
When the pale-haired boy came out of his room it was long past 11 but Yakov indulged it, knowing there was no use in playing "the bad cop". He was dressed in comfortable pyjamas and he didn't dare to look the coach in the eye as he sat down at the table and grabbed his already-prepared cup of coffee. It had a lot of milk in it and he wondered if Yakov was trying to make him feel slightly better.
"Did that boy do that to you?"
"Yes." Guilt didn't have a nice flavour.
"Are you planning on seeing him again?" Silence followed so Yakov tensed, leaning closer to the table. "I'm not going to kick you out of this house, Viktor, but I won't coach you anymore." Blues widened in shock – this was an ultimatum. "I'm not doing this to hurt you, I'm doing this because you force me to. I never told you this before but I want you to find someone who can properly value you. You're Viktor Nikiforov, rising star of the skating word, don't let a son of a сука question your worth."
Tears sprung once again so the Russian wiped them furiously, hating the position he was put in.
"We should call the doctor."
After he had his whole body checked and bought the recommended painkillers he grabbed his phone and called Chris. As soon as the other answered he began vomiting the words he's been holding inside, forgetting about pleasantries, ignoring the fact that his friend was probably in the middle of training and he was holding him back. He knew he was acting selfish but he had no person whom he trusted enough to pour his soul out to. Christophe barely gasped while listening and Viktor could imagine his anguished expression, he was probably feeling guilty for not noticing earlier but it was not his fault, never his fault.
"I'm going to murder him." He never heard such a sombre voice coming out of the blond's mouth.
"I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault, just... just try to stay away from him, Viktor. You deserve so much better than that." Viktor could read in between the lines so when Christophe told him he should visit he accepted right away, Yakov deciding it was the best for him to go away for a while.
At the airport, the Swiss's jaw dropped when he saw the bruises but he hugged his friend just as tight as he did before, trying to act normally even if his heart was breaking. They were staying at the Giacometti household and they tried to ignore the annoyed faces of Chris's parents; why would they son invite his enemy over for the weekend? The kid was also strange with that long hair and that strange sense of fashion that was making him look feminine, they didn't trust him.
"I don't think they like me." Viktor whispered when they entered the guestroom.
"I don't think I care." They both chuckled at that but the older didn't continue on the topic because he knew his friend wasn't fond of talking family business. He was supposed to take a shower and settle in and when his host turned to leave he grabbed his hand.
"I would feel more comfortable if I'd stay with you." Chris smiled gently and only then did the Russian realise how much he changed – he was tall, almost taller than him, and his face matured, his jawline asking to be kissed. He has bloomed into a beautiful youth.
"Okay." Their fingers intertwined as they moved to the bedroom, Viktor's eyes studying the many posters and pictures that were stuck on the walls. There were a ton of books too and as Christophe prepared the queen sized bed he ran his fingers over them, frowning as he was trying to read the titles which were in French and English. "You can use the bathroom." He hurried to jump in the shower and realised he forgot his things so he had to use what he could find. The body wash was based on honey so when he lied back in bed and Chris wrapped his arms around him he was thinking about home-made sweets. The blond buried his face in his neck and grinned. "You smell good, baby bee."
Viktor liked that pet name so he ran his fingers through the other's curls. Hands began to wander and soon Christophe was pushing him on his back, taking the lead and making him moan in pleasure. It was very different from the first time, the Swiss felt more like a man and it probably because of the many guys he "dated" the past year. This was exactly what the gold medallist needed, it was perfectly dosed – sweet but firm, moans melting against the other's lips.
"I love you." Icy blues hesitated when the words have been spoken.
"Don't say that. He –" He used to tell me that too and look at me.
"It's not the same." Chris whispered, leaning so their foreheads would touch. "Let me love you, baby bee." A gulp.
"Okay."
A/N: Thank you for reading! x
