content warning: suicide mention, implied attempted suicide
I wasn't sure exactly how long he had stopped talking to me. I just knew one day I had woken up from a nap on my own, rather than from my boy's excited energy, and it was quiet in the apartment. I was on my boy's bed but he wasn't in the room so I got up to investigate. I wasn't too worried, this happened more and more over the years where I would wake up to an empty apartment with Viktor's crazy schedule.
I padded into the living room to find Viktor sitting on the sofa. He was hunched over his laptop, which was resting on the table in front of him. He was staring intently at the screen and didn't look up when I entered even though my nails scratched the floor. I watched him and realized that he wasn't talking to me but I could tell that he was thinking hard about something. He had the same kinds of mix of emotions that he often felt when doing something regarding skating or music or choreography: frustration, confusion, annoyance. He had that serious, somber expression.
And it was in that moment that I realized he hadn't talked to me in a long time.
Suddenly worried, I went up to him and bumped his leg with my nose. My boy blinked, like he was coming out of a trance, and looked over at me. He smiled and I felt that rush of love from him, but his smile seemed tired. I sat down as he reached over to pet me.
Next to his laptop were both the lined paper and the blank paper my boy drew on. Except on the lined paper, words were scribbled and crossed out all over the page. On the blank paper, drawings were also scribbled and scratched out. I could feel my boy's frustration through those dark, violent lines on the paper.
I looked back at Viktor and put my paws up on his leg, licking his face in reassurance. I wasn't sure what he was upset about but I wanted to help in any way I could. Like usual, my boy laughed, petting me with both hands now.
"I love you, too, Makka-girl," he said.
He leaned back on the sofa and I hopped up next to him. He continued petting me but sighed, staring at the laptop screen again. His mood dropped and the smile left him. That was when I realized another thing: there seemed to be something broken inside my boy.
His emotions were dark and bitter, angry even. They reminded me of what Viktor felt when he'd come home with that white cloth around his head, when we'd visited the rink and my boy had watched everyone else skate. But this feeling wasn't exactly the same, it drew energy from the rest of his emotions. And it was rooted deep in his heart. It seemed like it had been festering for a while and I was surprised with myself that I hadn't noticed it until now.
After this realization, I watched him more closely, in case he needed something from me. I wasn't sure I could provide as much as another human could, but even through those dark swirls of sadness, his love for me remained constant. I tried to be there for him as best I could, cheer him up. But those moments were always fleeting. At least he still petted me when I sat at his feet.
As I watched him more, I picked up more things I had been missing. Like the fact that I thought perhaps he was actually talking, just not out loud. I started to call this silent talking. His emotions and mood seemed to worsen when he was working on his laptop with his lined and blank paper. He scribbled and crossed things out a lot. In bursts of frustration and anger he'd throw his pencil down or slam his laptop shut. When we went out for walks or jogs, he seemed far away. His eyes would kind of glaze over.
More often than not, when he hugged or petted me it was out of comfort. I could feel the ache in his heart and I wished there was more I could do than just be there for him. My boy was hurting so much and I was angry that I wasn't able to help.
The weather began to grow colder and I knew Viktor would be leaving to do skating competition again soon. Unlike the previous times, he didn't seem excited or eager, or even anxious. There was a strange calmness I had never felt coming from him. And I called it strange because he felt calm, but it didn't feel like the calm peacefulness. It stemmed from the darkness that was draining energy from him, it felt heavy, not like how calm should feel.
I expressed my discontent to him the only way I could. When he began packing for the first of ten times he was going to leave, I sat down in his bag to prevent him from fitting anything in there. Viktor laughed at that but it was half-hearted, almost sad. He set his folded clothes down on the floor and patted my head.
"I have to go, Makka-girl," he told me, his voice quiet. "You know that. I'll be back in no time."
I didn't budge. Viktor sighed. Before he could say anything, realizing I wasn't helping his mood, I stood up and stepped out of his bag. I let out a huff and groaned as I laid down next to it. Viktor patted my head again and thanked me. It wasn't very sincere.
When the day came that he had to leave, Iskra showed up just as Viktor was stepping out the door. They greeted each other before my boy started to exit. He paused just outside the door though before turning back around and kneeling in front of me, pulling me into a big hug. I could feel the swirling dark sadness increase in him.
"I love you, Makkachin," he mumbled giving me one more squeeze before pulling away. I jumped up, trying to get him to stay, but he only smiled and carefully pulled my paws away from him, letting them fall to the floor. His smile wasn't the bright smile I was used to. I still felt the love coming from my boy but his smile wasn't happy at all. It was pained and sad, fake.
I whined and paced in place, itching to at least go with him if I couldn't get him to stay.
Iskra patted my head. "Stay, Makka," she said as Viktor walked down the hall. I was a good dog and stayed, but I certainly didn't like it. Before he turned the corner, he waved one last time. Iskra returned the wave before closing the door. I whined again, going up to the door and scratching at it.
Iskra kneeled beside me, petting me between my shoulder blades.
"Viktor said you were used to this," she mumbled in confusion. "Why are you upset, Makka?"
I whined again, pawing at the door.
"He'll be back soon," she said giving me one more pet before standing and going into the living room. I let out a groan and flopped down on the floor in front of the door. I needed to be with Viktor. I needed to find a way to help him be happy again.
Later, Iskra called me into the living room. I didn't want to go until I realized she was calling me so we could watch television and see my boy. I trotted into the living room and hopped up onto the sofa with her. She smiled and petted me, keeping her hand on my back as we watched the screen. I had hoped seeing Viktor would ease my worries but they only increased them.
He acted different when he was on the television than when he was with me. My boy almost always smiled, a genuine, happy smile for me. Even after that darkness appeared inside him. But now, whenever he smiled on the television, the smiles he gave were like the one he'd given me when he left. They were sad and pained. I couldn't feel it but it seemed very clear to me on his face. Though, for some strange reason it caused the other people surrounding him to scream and grin. I couldn't understand it.
At one point, I was so desperate to be there for my boy I was tempted to try and jump through the television. But from previous experience, I knew that that wasn't how televisions worked. Though, if they couldn't take you to someone you needed to get to, I didn't see much of a point to them. Other than the fact that I did get to see Viktor when he wasn't home, I guessed.
Of course, I liked being able to see him when he was gone, but he always looked serious and when he wasn't serious, he would flash those fake smile. I didn't want to see him like that, and I couldn't comfort him if I couldn't be there with him.
It was very frustrating. I didn't like it when he left before, but now I really didn't like it.
I could tell my boy was still happy to see me when he came back from doing skating competition but it was nothing like when he was smaller. He stopped opening his arms for me to run into. So, I started sitting by the door and waiting, patiently as I could. His smile was tired and I could still feel that darkness swirling inside him, draining him.
More often than not, he'd say goodbye to Iskra and, after she left, he'd close the door and sit there on the floor, against the door. I always went up to him and licked his face, and he always hugged me. But then he'd get that serious, sad, silent talking expression on his face and whatever was hurting him became stronger. I always wished I could've done more. At least it was nice to be in his arms again.
Viktor also stopped showing me his metals. They were always gold now.
He would unpack them like any other item of clothing. When he was finished, though, he would pick up the metal and sit on the edge of his bed, holding it, staring at it. His emotions would grow incredibly dark and sometimes he would squeeze the metal like if he tried hard enough, it would crumple under the pressure. They never did.
Sometimes those dark emotions would break and Viktor would start to cry. I was always immediately there for him, putting my paws up on his leg and licking at his face. He would drop his metal, something I had never seen him do when he was smaller, and throw his arms around me, cry into my neck like the night he'd come home with that cloth around his head.
What worried me the most was when Viktor was done crying, that heavy calmness would take over, mixing with that darkness. My boy would sigh, resigned, pick his metal back up and hang it on a hook, where the rest of his metals resided, on their own hooks. He barely looked at them anymore. I could feel no pride or excitement when he did. Not even when he looked at the super special metals he'd won doing the Olympics.
One night, it became too much.
Viktor had gone out onto the small balcony the apartment had. He'd left a crack in the sliding glass door but not enough for me to go through. I sat and watched him, felt the dark emotions swirling inside him. My boy stared up at the sky for a long time, then his head lowered, shoulders hunching. He let out a deep, long sigh.
Panic shot through me and I stood, pawing at the sliding door. It was heavier than I thought it should be. Viktor didn't seem to hear me. I continued to try and get the door open wider so I could go out there as I felt an overwhelming sense of defeat build up within him. And he was surrendering to it. He was giving up, losing his very will to live.
Finally, I got it open enough I could shove my head through, then shoulder it open enough for me to step onto the balcony. I barked half-way out, startling both my boy and myself. Viktor looked at me over his shoulder and blinked. I barked again. And again. And again. And again. Until the blank look dropped from my boy's face.
The darkness was suddenly displaced by something else, some kind of anxiety. Viktor's eyes lit up and he had a realization. I could hear his heart start to pound in his chest as he looked back over the balcony rail before turning and coming back inside the apartment. I quickly backed up to let him in.
He slammed the sliding door closed, flicking a little lock on it before pulling the curtains closed tightly. His heart was beating even faster and now I was worried for a completely different reason.
I whined and followed my boy as he started to walk away from the doors, except his knees buckled half-way through the living room. I yelped and quickly went up to him. He had sat up, back against the side of the sofa. His hands were shaking and his breathing was audible. It was like the exact opposite of what he had been feeling for so long, it startled me.
When Viktor looked at me, with wide eyes filled with panic, I went up to him, the only comfort I could offer him. He put his arms around me and pressed his forehead into my neck, still breathing loud enough I could hear. Now his whole body was shaking. I whined, my worry growing.
"I'm okay," Viktor whispered. "I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay." He repeated this over and over again, and after a while it felt like he was saying it to himself and not me.
Eventually, I don't know how much time passed, Viktor stopped shaking. His breathing went back to normal. The intense anxiety that had displaced that dark, draining energy disappeared and those draining emotions returned. It was such a deep pain, something that gripped at my boy's heart.
Viktor pulled away and cupped my face in his hands. "I'm so sorry, Makka," he whispered. "You must be so"—I felt the pain inside him twist sharply and suddenly my boy was crying and his voice shook—"worried about me." Viktor pulled me into another hug, burying his face in my neck. I whined again, frustrated and worried and upset that I couldn't do anything to help ease that pain inside of him.
Viktor very rarely took me with him when he went to do skating competition. And he had only done it once before, after he and I were living away from Mom and Dad. It had been nice to finally go with him to one of his skating competitions, especially after those dark feelings had formed inside him and not gone away. I was left alone in what I would learn was called a hotel room but my boy would leave the television on and I was still able to watch him do skating. The rest of the time I got to spend with my boy, either lounging in the hotel room or going for a walk in an unfamiliar place with lots of new smells. That time had been for something called "worlds," at least that's the word Viktor used most often.
This time the skating competition he'd brought me along for had something to do with a grand final. It went pretty much like the other time had. When Viktor went to do skating, I stayed in the room by myself and watched him on the television. Then, when Viktor returned, we would go for a walk and explore the city. Later, we'd lounge around in the room. It was nice being able to be with him, especially because I thought he needed me.
Skating competition no longer brought him the joy I had felt from him from when he was younger. I only wished I knew what had made it change and actually was able to change it for him. Unfortunately, I didn't and I couldn't, so I had gotten used to the way my boy felt and was there for him as much as I possibly could be.
The warm period, when he stayed home, leading up to the cold period that he went off to do skating competitions had been a little different for Viktor this time. It seemed like he spent longer time doing skating. When he was working on things related to skating, with his lined paper and blank paper, a new feeling had emerged: Desperation. His body, his heart, his mind, absolutely ached with it. The dark sadness was still there, still gripped my boy's heart, but this new feeling was more present.
And I almost wondered if this new feeling was because he had lost that joy that skating used to bring him.
When he opened the door to the hotel room, I was sitting there, ready to greet him. He was in his, what I learned was called, costume with a jacket thrown over it. He had his skate bag over one shoulder. The usual exhaustion filled him but I still felt the same wave of love hit me when he saw me and smiled. He kneeled down to pet me as the door swung closed behind him. I wagged and licked his face, getting a small laugh from him.
Then he stood, throwing his bag down so hard it banged against the wall. Viktor didn't seem to care as he walked further into the room, shedding his jacket and throwing it on to the end of the bed. His metal, gold, followed soon after, like he didn't even care about it, when in the past he had always showed me with pride, treated it like it was made of glass. And I knew, for a while now, he really didn't care. It was like that swirling, deep sadness inside him had completely smothered any joy Viktor felt anymore.
My boy turned off the television and went into the bathroom and shut the door. I went and sat in front of the door, watching it, waiting for him to come out. When he did, he was in a different change of clothes. We went for a long walk around the city after that.
When we returned, Viktor went to the small refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of clear liquid that I always thought was water at first but realized it wasn't when I got a whiff of alcohol. My boy poured a little bit into the glass, drinking the whole thing, then poured more before he went over to the sofa and sat down. I hopped up next to him, resting my head in his lap. His free hand reached up to pet me.
We sat there, in silence, until Viktor finished his drink, and then sat there or a little longer after that. Then it was bedtime.
The next night, Viktor wore something I don't think I'd seen him wear before. It was a long-sleeved white shirt with buttons all the way down the front. He wrapped some weird piece of fabric around his neck and, to my distress, tightened it. His lack of distress was the only thing that eased my worry. Then, he threw a jacket the same color as his pants over the white shirt. When he'd finished doing all that, he stared at himself in the mirror for a long while before sighing and turning out the light.
He drank more stuff that smelled like alcohol but this had come from outside of his room in a large, dark bottle. The liquid was also dark, quite different from the not-water alcohol. He sat with me on the sofa, staring at the television even though it wasn't on. When a knock sounded at the door, he gave me a kiss on the forehead before patting my head, and left.
I wondered what he was doing. I didn't remember this happening at Worlds. It couldn't have been to do skating or Viktor would've left the television on for me.
Worried as I was, I knew there wasn't much of anything I could do. So, I remained on the sofa and took a nap instead.
Viktor's energy woke me. I bolted upright and looked around the now dark room. My boy would have turned on the lights so that didn't mean he was here. Yet I could feel his emotions clear as day. More exciting to me was what emotions they were: happiness, joy, elation. Emotions he hadn't felt in what felt like so long, and if he had, it was so fleeting it didn't count in my mind
Now, my boy was practically buzzing with them. Underneath it all, I could still feel that swirling sadness but the other emotions were much stronger and more potent.
I hopped off the sofa as I heard him come up to the door, my tail already wagging in response to his flood of excitement. When the door opened up, my boy stumbled in, swaying and smiling. He flicked on the light in the little hallway that led to the room and let the door swish closed behind him.
When my boy saw me, he grinned and the rush of love from him was so strong, I jumped up and yipped. Viktor laughed, taking my paws and started doing dancing with me.
"You'll never guess what happened tonight, Makka-girl," Viktor said. His heart was beating out of his chest but he was so incredibly happy, I didn't feel the need to be worried. "He challenged Yura to a dance-off!" He laughed. "And then I danced with him." My boy spun me around in a slow circle. My tail hit the walls but Viktor didn't seem to mind. "He was so charming, Makka." My boy sighed. "And handsome." This new energy was filling him up so completely another laugh burst from his lips. I barked, excited now, too. Excited because of the energy he was giving off. Excited to see my boy so happy again.
Viktor laughed, but quieter this time. "Shh, shh, Makka-girl, it's late." I boofed, trying to use my inside voice. My tail still wagged, hitting the walls. Viktor just grinned, letting go of my paws, leaning back against the wall, and sliding down to the floor.
I went up to him, sniffing at and licking his face. Viktor continued to laugh as he petted me. Finally, he pulled me into a hug. His heart began to settle but his body was still buzzing with joy.
"His name is Yuuri Katsuki, Makka," my boy said, stroking my side. "This is the first time he's qualified for the Grand Prix Final, as far as I can tell." His breath caught and his heartbeat picked up again. "You should see the way he moves, Makka. The way he dances. It's beautiful. It just…takes your breath away." Viktor paused before letting out a startled laugh. "I'm almost envious. When he moves, he makes music. I could never do something like that."
We sat there in silence again, but this silence was happy, almost peaceful.
Even after we'd settled into bed for the night, Viktor's buzzing elation stayed. He was lying on his back, absentmindedly stroking my back.
"He asked me to be his coach, Makka," my boy said quietly. "Do you think I should do it?" I wasn't sure if he was asking me or the darkness of the room.
My boy couldn't sleep that night. He tried, but he was still buzzing with excitement and energy. Eventually, he started doing something on his laptop. He stayed in bed, with the lights off, and I managed to squeeze myself between him and the device, one of my boy's arms draped over me. I fell asleep like that. For once since that darkness had overtaken Viktor, I felt peaceful.
We flew back home the next day. Viktor was still feeling those same energetic and happy emotions from last night but they had settled down by now. Except my boy still moved like he had pent up energy. He was almost always doing something on his laptop and talking into his phone. We took what felt like a lot of trips to the Vet. I didn't like the times when the person who worked there pinched the skin on the back of my neck and I felt the sharp poke of a needle. It was uncomfortable and I didn't feel very well afterward. Thankfully, my lethargy didn't last long. I still didn't like these trips.
All the while, I was worried those happy emotions might go away again and wasn't sure what I'd do if that happened. After so long with that dark sadness in him, I just wanted my boy to be happy again.
My worries weren't unfounded. As the cold weather began to slowly turn warm, and Viktor went off to do skating competition two more times, plus an additional time for the Olympics thing again, I could feel that happiness and joy he'd felt the night of that Grand Final skating competition slowly start to fade.
By the time the Olympics competition came around, the darkness was already starting to grow and displace my boy's happiness once again. I became increasingly worried about him as this happened. The only thing that eased some of this worry was the fact that Viktor took me to the Olympics competition this time! It was nice to be with him since I knew this competition lasted much longer. At the same time, it was so hard to see Viktor's mood so rapidly deteriorate. And it was, again, incredibly frustrating that there wasn't anything I could do about it. Wasn't I supposed to help my boy? That's what a good dog would do.
I didn't get to go with Viktor to the Worlds competition, much to my dismay. I didn't know which was worse, being with him and feeling how miserable he was, or having to see him flash those fake, pained smiles in the television. I supposed, at least, when I was there, I offered him some comfort. I couldn't make that darkness disappear completely but I knew that when I was with him, it didn't feel so strong.
When my boy returned home from his last skating competition, we fell into the warm weather routine. There wasn't much left of those happy, joyful emotions he'd felt at the Grand Final. They had sparked deep in my boy's chest when some strange group of men came to the apartment after Worlds. At first, Viktor was stunned to see them, then that deep sadness that filled him became so sharp and painful I almost yelped. I didn't feel any anger or malice coming from the men so I didn't think my boy was in danger but his reaction startled me.
They exchanged a few words before I felt a small spark of hope chase away some of the darkness in Viktor's chest. He ended up letting them in and they set to work packing things into brown boxes in the apartment. This was very confusing to me. Were we moving again? I wondered to where.
At the same time, Viktor's feelings didn't match the ones he felt when we'd moved out of Mom and Dad's house. They were a strange mix of pain and sadness, with that small spark of hope. Humans amazed me sometimes. I couldn't understand how such a small thing could lead them to such big decisions. And I couldn't understand why Viktor had let those men pack up nearly everything in the apartment and then we didn't even move out or leave.
When the group of men left, they exchanged a few words and my boy closed the door. He stood there, staring at the door for so long, I went up to him and bumped my nose against the back of his leg. He jolted and looked down at me. His smile was tired and pained this time. I could feel that darkness twist sharply in his chest as the hope he felt dimmed.
He sat down right there, leaning against the door, hugging me to him.
"Am I crazy, Makka?" he asked quietly. He took in a deep, shaky breath. I could tell that he would start crying soon. Those painful, sad emotions were filling him and eventually he wouldn't be able to hold them in any longer. I whined and rested my chin on my boy's shoulder as he hugged me closer, pressing his face into my neck as silent tears slid down his cheeks.
And just when I thought that I would just have to get used to the dark sadness that kept a tight grip on my boy's heart, life with Viktor changed again.
was gonna try to post on a schedule. and then life fucking sucker-punched me in the fucking face.
hope you enjoyed. pls comment pls
thank for reading,
thebrightestnight