With the music, Viktor was improving his sleeping habits. The soothing notes seemed to seep into his dreams and calm him. He still had the occasional nightmare, but no more than before Seamus the merchant had threatened him. However, without the fog of sleep deprivation clouding his senses, Viktor's thoughts were clearer and usually turned to Chris.
Anxious, Yuuri fretted about his decrease in appetite. With his usual mask on, Viktor told him that he just wasn't as hungry. The truth of the matter was that he felt awful eating delicious, fresh meals while Chris was languishing in a basement with barely enough to survive. It made him sick to his stomach. He knew the only way to save him was to ask Yuuri for help, but he just couldn't do it. He wanted to so desperately, but the thought of asking Yuuri to spend so much money for him put a pit in his belly.
Yuuri had already done so much for him, he didn't think he was capable of asking for more.
But as Viktor watched his flowers and sang them little songs, or listened to music and imagined what the ballet looked like, or looked through books to see their pictures and tried to picture the stories they contained, he thought about how much Chris would love doing these things with him. How much his kind, dear friend deserved to have a better life.
Viktor was also concerned that his old master was working Chris twice as hard now that he was gone. He was barely getting by before, but with two times the work…
Yuuri had noticed Viktor's unusual silence and apathy, and was starting to worry about his health.
"Should I phone Doctor Feltsman and have him come to look you over?" Yuuri would ask nervously. Viktor always politely declined. That grouchy (albeit kind) old man and his bratty assistant were the last things he needed. "Alright, we just let me know if there's anything you need or would like to talk about. Please?" Viktor would dip his head and agree, guilt worming through his belly.
He needed Chris. But everytime he was about to ask Yuuri for help, he couldn't force the words out. He had said that he would try to see himself as an equal to Yuuri, but it was incredibly difficult. It flew in the face of everything he'd been brutally taught for so long. With a little, sad smile, Viktor finished watering his plants. Some of the late bloomers were budding, about to unfurl their petals and greet the world. He tapped each of the pots in affection, then turned and spread out his arms to feel the sunlight from the window above warming his skin.
With a yawn, he opened his wings and flew up to the perch that Yuuri had recently installed. He felt bad that he'd gone to the trouble for him, but greatly appreciated the gesture. He hoped that Yuuri hadn't spent too much money on it. The perch was a ledge high up and securely fastened to the wall like a shelf. Lying on it, he could nearly imagine that he was reclining on the branch of a tree from his youth.
Fairies were supposed to take light naps, and slept up in trees during the day to protect from predators. (At night, they all slept together.) It was so nice to be able to recreate an experience Viktor never thought he would have again.
Viktor rested on his front side, cheek pressed against the smooth wood. One arm dangled off the edge. He closed his eyes, and quickly fell asleep. His dream was filled with Chris and carried a note of poignant desperation.
(next chapter is a tad angsty and has a looot of hair.)