WARNING! Reference to domestic violence but not explicit
Victor described Sergey Ivanov as a hard man. His wife, Anya, was seven years his junior. She was a kind woman, who turned sickly soon after their marriage. Sergey worked to earn the money for her medications and turned to alcohol when he had learnt his wife would not get better. By some miracle, they had a healthy baby boy, but the pregnancy and birth had worsened Anya's condition but to the woman, Victor had become the centre of her world and she couldn't have been happier. To Sergey the boy had just shortened his wife's life further.
Sergey resented his son for that, and with monetary pressure building, as well as his drinking habits, they produced a violent mix. Anya would hide away Victor during such episodes, always in a different place where, in his drunken haze, Sergey would never find him. More often than not, however, his wife would become the target of his rage instead.
That all changed days before Victor's tenth birthday. Yakov, still married to Lilia at the time, was visiting Victor's home town for a training camp. Victor's class happened to be at the same rink and the coach was impressed the instant he saw Victor skate, like an unrefined diamond waiting to be harvested. Yakov had spoken to Victor's teacher, proposing the possibility of taking on the young boy as his pupil. The teacher had sent Victor home with a note, informing his parents of the offer.
Not even Anya could have anticipated the angry rage Sergey fell into. Victor had escaped to his room while his parents argued. His mother stopped Sergey before he could hurt their son but they left their home that night never to return, catching the last train to St Petersburg. There, Anya insisted Victor start skating under Yakov, knowing how much her son loved to dance on the ice. Yakov took him under his wing like his own son and Anya found a job despite her condition, making enough to fund Victor's training and providing him with a happier life than he had ever known before. However, the medical fees were also harder to cover without his father's help.
That year Victor won a small local tournament and, with the prize money, he managed to help with the fees. From there, Victor strived for bigger competitions, under the name Victor Nikiforov, opting to use his mother's maiden name rather than his father's, the money going to his mother's medications. By sixteen he'd won enough to not only buy his the medication but for them to also live a comfortable life.
His mother smiled and laughed more than he'd ever seen her before, for Victor was her life and she always claimed his skating was the only thing she needed. However, her sickness took her before he won his first Grand Prix final.
"You look a lot like her." Observed Yuuri, looking at the old crumpled picture Victor had given him from his wallet. She had a soft, kind face, with large blue eyes and long silver hair, both the same shade as Victor's. He could see the same smile as Victor's, as she tried to cover her face when Victor had tried to take this candid photo of her.
"I know." Agreed Victor, who was sitting on the opposite bed from Yuuri's in the hotel room. "I'm glad my appearance never reminded her of that man."
"I think," Began Yuuri, standing to sit on the bed beside Victor, "That wouldn't have mattered to her."
Victor smiled sadly while taking the photograph from Yuuri. "You know she never missed a performance, even at the very end? My skating made her happy, and that made me happy. I was skating for her long before I began skating for myself."
"I wish I could have met her." Yuuri confessed, sliding closer to Victor.
"I think she really would have liked you." Admitted Victor. "On days when she was well she'd chase Yurio around for a hug, calling him a little Russian kitten. He used to complain but I know he secretly used to love them."
Yuuri let out a soft laugh at the image. "I wonder if she'd have a nickname for me…"
"Probably something to do with pork cutlet bowls." Victor let out a low chuckle as he continued to look at the old photograph.
Yuuri turned slightly and with gentle hands caressed Victor's cheek, wiping a tear that had escaped. Shakily, Victor raised his own hand to his cheek so it was covering Yuuri's and twisted his head slightly so he could kiss Yuuri's gold ring, there were more tears in his eyes as he looked at Yuuri.
"Thank you for telling me Vic…" But Yuuri caught himself hastily. "Thank you for telling me, Vitya."
And he leaned in to kiss Victor ,gently, allowing the warmth of their embrace to ward off the chilling ghosts of the past from that distant December night.