Viktor had finished getting dressed before Yuuri for once, likely due to the fact that he'd rushed through his usual routine out of excitement. He was anxious to leave. The blisters from the corset were mere scars; the amputation site on his finger was nearly healed completely and all signs of infection were gone.

A check-in from Yakov the day before had confirmed this. He hadn't said it out loud, but the glint in his eyes indicated that he was happy that about Viktor's improving health. Yakov's grumpy fairy assistant had even thrust a paper bag in Viktor's direction with a frown and glare on his face, and eyes averted.

"Take it," he'd demanded bluntly. When Viktor opened the bag later, he'd been delighted to find it filled with sugared violets and rose petals. Eating them brought back a calming yet melancholy feeling of nostalgia. The specific memories had faded long ago, but Viktor knew instantly once he'd tasted it again that he'd eaten flower candy as a child, a long long time ago.

Viktor plucked a couple out of the bag and munched on them as he left his bedroom. He stepped over to Yuuri's door and had his hand poised to knock when he realized that the door was open a crack already. He didn't see Yuuri and pushed the door gently, mouth open to call out his name.

But suddenly, Yuuri exited the bathroom and Viktor instinctively pulled the knob so that he could only see a sliver into the room. Through his tiny slit, he watched with wide eyes. Yuuri didn't have a shirt on. Viktor's heart thudded in his chest, giddiness rushing in his arteries. It was transfixing the way that he could see Yuuri's muscles contracting below his skin as he moved.

Yuuri was well-muscled, but not overly so. Clinging to his body was a layer of pudge, softening his appearance. What would his bare skin feel like under his touch, if he spread his hands out over it? He realized what he was thinking and blushed.

Viktor finally registered the markings on Yuuri's arms and back as Yuuri turned and faced away from him. He squinted, and then gasped softly. Tattoos. Depicted on the canvas of his skin was a beautiful fish leaping, surrounded by dazzling water droplets. Its scales were a lovely gradient from blue to indigo to purple. White roses bloomed with a smooth elegance over his skin, and inked wisteria dripped from his scapulas. Glimmering golden sunflowers proudly lifted up their heads towards the sky, and sea snails perched on fiery pieces of coral.

All of the images blended seamlessly to create an ocean scene by a garden. It was utterly captivating and stunning. Viktor had never seen them before; not once. He'd seen Yuuri with his shirt unbuttoned at the brothel on that fateful night, but none of the tattoos would have been clearly visible as none of them were down the centerline of his torso. Even if bits had peeked out, he'd been to frightened at the time to notice them under the dim, grimy lights.

Viktor was overcome with guilt, feeling like he'd violated Yuuri. He clearly had not wanted Viktor to know about his tattoos, or he wouldn't have hidden them. It wasn't very common for humans to have them. He stepped back and leaned against the wall, fidgeting his wings. He tried to forget what he'd seen, but the image of Yuuri's lovely body refused to leave his mind. He desired to trace his fingers over those gorgeous designs for hours, to press a kiss to every wisteria blossom… He shook his head. He shouldn't be having these thoughts.

Viktor tugged on his hair absentmindedly as he waited, heart still beating quickly. If he went to knock on the door, it would surely slip open and an embarrassing situation could follow. He wasn't sure if Yuuri was fully clothed yet or not. He ran his hands through his ponytail, not reaching the ends even when his hand was straight down.

Secretly, he wanted Yuuri to brush his hair for him. Play with it. Braid it. Yuuri wasn't as skilled at it as Viktor himself was, but he basked in Yuuri's tender care and praises. It made him feel like a prince. He adored Yuuri's determined face as he worked on elaborate styles, which he caught sight of whenever he snuck glances back over his shoulder.

It had taken a while to overcome his irrational fear that Yuuri would pull out a pair of shears and start hacking his long tresses off. He knew that Yuuri would never ever do that, but phobias rarely listen to logic and old habits die hard. He still stiffened at that first brushstroke before easing into relaxation. He always thought that he could melt right there under Yuuri's hands.

Viktor hummed a section from "Swan Lake," swinging his leg forward and pointing his toes before gracefully pulling it back. He imagined himself as a ballet dancer clothed in an array of white feathers that glimmered in the theater lights.

When he heard Yuuri's footsteps, he stopped and turned towards the sound. Yuuri still turned the handle, clearly not realizing that the door was already slightly ajar. When it opened without any resistance, he looked at the knob briefly with mild confusion.

Yuuri was wearing gray and navy-blue plaid, straight-legged trousers that clung nicely to his legs, with a matching vest and a long-sleeved white dress shirt. Viktor wanted to ask him about the tattoos, but saying something about them would be admitting that he'd been peeping.

"Are you ready to go?" Yuuri asked, pulling on dark gray gloves.

"Yes!" Viktor exclaimed. He was excited, but anxiety had weaselled its way in there too.

They walked together to the front hall, where Viktor pulled up his hood over his hair and then smiled down at Yuuri. The long cloak insulated him from the frigid air as well as concealed his wings. He wouldn't be able to fly because it was so cold anyway, and the weight brought a certain feeling of safety. Yuuri put on his coat and took a deep breath. The two of them left the house.

Yuuri locked the door and then helped Viktor down the icy steps. Yuuri noted aloud without much thought that because Viktor was so much taller he'd have a lot farther to fall to the ground if he slipped. When he had realized what he'd said, his face flushed scarlet and he quickly apologized. Viktor found it amusing, and smiled to himself as he tapped down from the bottom step.

The snow that had fallen a day prior had turned to muddy slush, which subsequently froze over again. Yuuri held out his elbow, and Viktor tentatively took it with his pulse rushing. They walked down to the curb, and Yuuri hailed a cab. He helped Viktor up into it before telling the driver their destination.

The ceiling of the taxi carriage wasn't as low as some that Viktor had ridden in before, and for that he was grateful. They had taken cabs more than usual in the past week as they asked around about Christophe and put up fliers with his appearance described on them. Not a single person had offered clues as to where he might be.

They had visited an auction site, where Yuuri had gotten quite shaky and furious. Viktor's anger and disgust was more inwardly contained, although he did deliver some cold stares accompanied by tight-lipped smiles. Their venture produced no fruit. None of the auctioneers or managers had sold a fairy named Christophe in the past few months, or could recall one with his physical description. Yuuri had even made sure that no fairies had passed through their hands that looked like Chris if his long brown hair had been cut or his wings had been…

Viktor shivered. He moved closer to Yuuri's warm and comforting body, and Yuuri gently pressed up against him. VIktor appreciated the reciprocation, and the gesture put a soothing flame in his core. Although he was trying to stay positive, he was still plagued with worry over his dear friend.

Viktor turned out the window as the streets passed by. The sky was overcast, but no snowflakes were twirling down from the heavens. Viktor expected that by the next morning there would be a new layer of snow covering everything like powdered sugar. He wondered if it would alter their plans.

Soon, the pair of them were going to visit the brothel that Viktor had briefly lived at. His situation was now drastically different, but he knew that it was going to be difficult. The prospect filled him with a dull, throbbing dread and made his heart beat faster. At least Yuuri would be with him for support. Today's trip would be easier. (At least, Viktor hoped.)

The taxi came to a gradual halt, and Yuuri assisted Viktor down the steps.

"Careful, there's a slippery patch."

"Thank you, Yuuri." Viktor gave a heartfelt smile. He would probably be okay without being helped from the carriage, but he found it so sweet that Yuuri cared enough about him to do it. Besides, Viktor got to hold his hand in the process. Because they were both wearing gloves, it was merely fabric on fabric contact. But to Viktor, he felt the same spark that he did when their skin touched. He wistfully wished that Yuuri felt the same way.

Yuuri paid the cab driver, who gave a curt nod before urging his horses along. The two of them stood before a bookstore that was sandwiched between a dress shop and what appeared to be a bakery. It had huge glass windows in the front that showcased what Viktor assumed were new releases. When they entered the store, a bell jingled overhead.

Viktor's eyes widened in wonder. The shop, although it was narrow, had two stories joined by a spiral staircase. The second level had half the floor space as the ground floor, like a loft. The bookcases stretched nearly ceiling to floor, with tall ladders on tracks attached that had wheels fastened to the feet.

He had never set foot into a library before, and certainly not a bookstore. He knew that his old master had had a personal book collection, but of course he had never seen it before, being mostly confined to the basement.

Everything smelled like new books, a novel scent to Viktor. The aroma of crisp pages and leather bindings permeated the air. Taking in everything was almost overwhelming. Viktor had never even imagined that so many books had been written. There were millions of words contained in just this one store.