Viktor had been watching the television all day. Ivana was in the office with the radio. Viktor was sure the whole world was in on this, listening to every object they had. The war was almost over. They were only a few hours away from finishing this carnage. The anchors were speaking rapidly, hope beginning to well in their hearts.

"The end of this war is closer than we have ever seen before. We are down to our last few hours." The anchor spoke, his voice heightening with each passing minute. The day continued, and the number of liberated camps increased. A single battle took place, but it was quickly ceased.

It was around six in the evening when the war had officially gone through as completed. Surrender documents had been signed by Japan and celebration quickly ensued. Viktor was smiling broadly, but still felt an ache in his chest. He still didn't know Yuuri's fate. For all Viktor knew, he could have been obliterated when the atom bombs were dropped on the small island country. He may have even been gone before that, being shot down in a firefight.

But, the hopeful part of Viktor, the one that loved and cherished Yuuri, held on to the idea that he could still be alive somewhere. That Yuuri could be safe. Even if he was never able or see or kiss Yuuri ever again, he would be fine knowing if the Japanese man was alive.

"Vitya, the war is over!" Ivana smiled, grasping Viktor and hugging him tightly. She moved over to Yuri, doing the same, before going over to Yakov, kissing him. Viktor was surprised to find that Yuri didn't groan in disgust as he usually did. He just smiled, looking over at his stepbrother.

"You look down, what's the matter?" Yuri asked. Viktor shrugged.

"I guess it's Yuuri. I was hoping to have heard from him. Now, he might not even be alive." He confided. "But, I'm done sulking. I'm just going to have to accept it. That won't stop me from wishing I knew of his whereabouts, however."

Yuri nodded his head in understanding. When Yuuri was here, he wanted nothing more than the other to leave, but now he doesn't speak badly of him. Perhaps there was more respect because of the sacrifice he made, perhaps it was he had realised what Yuuri had meant to him. Regardless, it's been a long time since Viktor has heard the word 'Yaposhka' leave his younger brother's mouth.

Viktor left the festivities early (Yakov had already popped out the vodka and wine, not letting it go to waste), going up to his room. While he's returned mostly to his social self, he still finds that he needs more time alone than he had ever needed before. Luckily, the amount of hours he spent upstairs was decreasing. He just needed to look at something for a moment.

Viktor reached behind his bed frame for something he had not touched in months; the note. It had ended up in an even messier state than the last time he looked at it, but he couldn't help but smile. He felt tears prickle, but the grin that spread across his face was so big it hurt. He told his imaginary Yuuri that it was over, that the war was done. His imaginary Yuuri smiled, and pressed a feather-like kiss to Viktor's cheek. It never quite met his skin before Yuuri disappeared, but Viktor was sure he felt the heat from his lover fill the room. A few tears spilled, and he couldn't help but sob.

They were happy tears, but they were tears. They were running down Viktor's cheeks, dripping down on the bed, soaking the red fabric. The smile still did not leave Viktor's face, as he thought of what had happened that day.

He finally dried his tears by wiping them on his sleeve. Viktor stared at the note in his hand, pondering what to do with it now that the war was over. He didn't know if he should keep it or not. If Yuuri was alive, then why hadn't he heard a single peep from him? He was at a crossroads and he genuinely considered burning it.

But no, he would hold onto it, just in case. He knew he couldn't jump to conclusions, as the war had only just ended, so he couldn't expect anything yet. However, he didn't want to see this note again. It was the past and the past should stay just that. That is, of course, unless Yuuri showed up one day. Then he'd find it just so that he can make sure it's the real thing.

Viktor made a decision after a long bout of looking at the note with longing in his eyes and confusion in his head. He called Makkachin, mentioning to one of the maids that he would be going out and left for the woods.

The pair went to the spot that was covered by trees and full of summery flowers. The May weather certainly did the place wonders. Scents of irises and poppies wafted around the area as Viktor found a nice spot to bury the note. He would treat it with respect, but he did not want it to be a part of his life anymore. He decided that the approximate spot of where he kissed Yuuri for the first time would be the best place. It was in the middle of a cluster of blueish-purple bell flowers. Viktor thought it was a beautiful place to put Yuuri to rest.

Viktor carved out a small hole in the earth, smiling as Makkachin pawed at the hole with curiosity and licked Viktor's hand gently. Then, he folded the note up into neat fours, planted a short peck right in the centre and placed it down. He felt a little sadness creep into his heart as he began combing the dirt over the neatly folded paper, but he needed to accept this change.

This reminded him of the time he had gone to a small event in the city with his friends. It was when he was younger, maybe fifteen at most, and he was intrigued by everything there. Eventually, he stumbled across a fortune teller. She wasn't the typical one you'd hear about, but rather a little sliver of a woman. She was small and frail looking, and had grey hair tied up into a loose updo. She didn't say her name nor did she ask Viktor for his hand. She simply told him to pick three cards from each individual stack on the table between them, one for the past, the present and the future.

For the past, Viktor pulled a reversed Knight of Swords. He was extravagant and overzealous. Viktor couldn't deny it. He had always been one for the glamour that came with his dancing lifestyle. It was something the practically intoxicated him. If he was honest, the glitz and shine of it all made him feel better. More whole, if you will.

For the present, he pulled Four of Cups. Disgust, aversion and weariness. At the time, he had only just considered that he might be gay, and didn't want to accept it, much less act on it. He was disturbed and disgusted with himself. It was a frighteningly accurate card. He still struggled, hence the 'present' part of it, but he wasn't completely horrified with what he was and even found that good things could come from such feelings. He found love in this disgust, and that took courage. That is what he was told, at least.

For the future, Viktor pulled Death. When he saw it, he felt himself get scared, his face turning white. The slight lady held his wrist and told him there was nothing to be afraid of. The card could be translated as literal death, but based on his previous cards, she interpreted it as renewal and rest. In order to be renewed as a better or happier person, Viktor would have to let something go; he would have to let it rest. He now understood what she meant. Viktor was putting Yuuri to rest in order to be happy. Maybe it was also to make him happy. Yuuri would never want Viktor to cry over him. Yuuri wasn't that type of man. He would want Viktor to smile and to dance, and, if it isn't too much trouble, to remember him every once in a while.

Viktor finished piling the dirt onto the card, he picked one of the nearby iris, the colour bright against the watered down hues of the bell flowers, and placed it right on top. He stayed there for a short moment, scratching Makkachin behind the ear, before rising with a sigh.

"Well, Makkachin, I think I can let go now. Can you? I know you and Yuuri were just wonderful friends." Viktor asked his dog. He imagined the poodle replying with a 'Yes, I will miss him very much. He was very good at throwing sticks for me to catch and giving belly rubs, but I know we need to let go.' He was a smart dog, after all, and he would know just how to respond if he could talk. Makkachin simply let out a quick yap. It was all Viktor needed to hear.

The two walked back to the home, a more sombre feeling overhanging them. However, they did not have dampened spirits. Viktor was still ecstatic that the war was over. He just needed to let all of his emotions settle. He waited a few moments for this to happen before allowing himself back inside. He was offered a glass of champagne by Aleksandr, the cook friend Yuuri had, and Viktor smiled as he took it. He enjoyed the feeling of the bubbly liquid on his tongue and savoured the taste.

His mother asked him where he had gone off to, and he simply said that he'd rather keep it a secret. He was an adult, and thus allowed to have such things. Ivana simply nodded, giving the man one more hug before going off with the other. Viktor felt himself swell up at the sight of his family being so happy. Yakov, who was usually such a glum man, was smiling like there was no tomorrow. Ivana had a glimmer in her eyes that Viktor was glad to see and Yuri was grinning and bouncing around.

Viktor hoped the feeling would last forever.

This chapter is pretty short, but it got the message across. It was important, but I couldn't come up with much substance to put it all together. Of course, things will be tied up later on, but I do hope this short chapter didn't leave too many open ends.

Anyways, I am a tad late, especially considering the fact that I said I was speeding up my updates. This one just left me at a crossroads. For at least two days I was staring at a blank doc, trying to figure out which of my three options I should write. I, obviously, chose this one and I think this was the best closure I could give for the time being.

There isn't much else to say. Thanks for reading! I always love feedback from you!

-MidnightQuestant