The train from Sochi to Moscow, and then from Moscow to Saint Petersburg left time for a lot of thinking for the platinum-haired Russian. With each passing day, a dull ache crept up within Viktor's chest. For the first few days, he didn't quite understand it. It was a familiar pain. It reminded him of the emotions he locked away in the depths of his heart.

He was young when he gave up on the novel concepts of real love. He molded his thoughts and feelings into the love his fans had for him. Without them, what was he?

Even though the pain was seeping into his bones, he could understand the first few weeks of silence after the Grand Prix. Most of the World's skaters were busiest now with all the championships before Worlds. A brief smile crossed those rosy lips. If that Japanese skater could manage to win gold at the Japanese Nationals, would he be able to see him at Worlds?

Even if Viktor managed to meet up with him again...

What would he say?

How would this work?

The Russian had been back in Saint Petersburg for three weeks now. Pushing, training, turning the ache in his heart into sweat on his brow. In less than a day, he would be back down in Sochi for the Russian Championship but his heart wasn't in it. His mind kept finding that place to wander to. That depth of despair that Viktor tried, he tried so hard, to keep it locked away.

Perhaps this Yuuri Katsuki was just nervous? Shy?

A weighted sigh came from his lips as he fell backward onto his bed. He curled up in a ball before he felt another weight on the bed, a bundle of fluff snuggled against him.

"Makka… what am I supposed to do?"

He rolled over and pulled the fluffy pup towards him, pressing his nose into the curly fur. The tears burned his eyes and cheeks, but they flowed with little effort.

"I can't sink back into that place Makka…"

A wet nose pressed against his face, but the tears wouldn't stop.


Viktor took a deep breath as he stepped from the train, Yakov not far behind. Being back in Sochi made his heart ache. He had been practicing so much in the final week before his own country's championship, that he completely forgot about the Japanese Figure Skating Championship.

So Viktor looked up the results of the competition. His heart ached again thinking about it.

The Russian skater traversed the station with his coach in silence. It was easy. Almost effortless for him to bottle this thoughts and feelings. For him to cruise through these things on autopilot.

Paparazzi, news reporters, journalists.

Smile and wave.

Smile and wink.

Let the whole world fall in love what they think is you.

Russian Nationals: Gold Medal.


Viktor spent the next month, between national championships, at the ice rink. He poured his blood and sweat into his routine. From the moment the rink opened until Yakov had to almost physically remove him from the ice.

He wasn't oblivious, though. He could hear them talking. He could hear the whispers from the other skaters.

/Could this be Viktor's final season?/

/Is he losing his touch?/

/Has he lost his inspiration?/

Once he was home, that's when he could fall apart.

That was when he could be himself.

That's when he found himself drowning.

The European Nationals was easier that the Russian Nationals, less memories. Less pain. He was able to play the part he danced in front of the world. The more time between the touch that blinded their souls, the more Viktor felt as he used to.

European Nationals: Gold Medal.


Yoyogi, Japan. The location for Worlds.

With the short program out of the way, he had nothing more to worry about it. He knew his free program would be exceptional. As it always was.

Viktor was feeling like his old self with ease, just with everything in muted colour. He had waited and waited.

For foolishly hopeful minutes.

For quiet hours.

For weary days.

But all he faced was a comfortable silence. It didn't take much for the little voice that was so quiet to speak louder. бесцветный(bestsvetnyy/colorless). At first, it whispered.

Бесцветный. It's voice grew in volumes. And he was forced to accept what he feared. He was a бесцветный, a colorless, a one-sided soulbond. It was okay. He was okay. He could live his life like this.

He removed his sunglasses, a bright smile, and wink towards the female fans amongst the cameras. As he entered the competition rink, he was met with unfriendly looks. Viktor didn't socialize much with the skaters other than at the gala's at the end, but those were not really voluntary. It was nice to have his usual air of confidence back.

Viktor relaxed and stretched while the first group skated. He was in the second group, last. What was that saying, save the best for last? A pretentious smile crossed his lips. This was best. He reminded himself. This was best for both for them.

The cameras followed him about. Eyes on him as he practiced in the hallway as one by one the other skaters passed by him until it was finally his turn.

It was an overwhelming feeling. The lights. The cheers. The world's eyes on him.

"Last up is Viktor Nikiforov from Russia!"

The silver-haired Russian smiled as he skated across the ice, arms out, waving to the people in the crowd. They went wild. They always went wild. The screams were deafening. His heart was pounding within his chest. Not from the worry. He was going to win gold without a worry. The crowd was his lifeblood and it reminded him he had a reason for what he did.

Yet, what surprised the Russian skater most was when the muted tone of the colors brightened. Everything around him got brighter, crisper. Just as suddenly as the music began, it faded. The crowd faded.

It felt as if he were the only one there in that large complex. He could barely hear the announcers. Everything was so quiet. He felt a strange energy as he lept into the air.

Quadruple lutz. Very clean.

It was a feeling that he hadn't felt since the Grand Prix. Everything felt warm. And happy. Almost intoxicating. He pushed off for his next jump, his signature move.

Quadruple flip. He lands this one too!

Viktor felt as if he were floating. His heart was racing again, he felt...nervous. How strange. He hasn't felt nervous in years. He smiled inwardly. Something changed. Something mystical was happening.

Viktor had to focus on the music to make sure they were playing Aria and not Duetto. He was alone on the ice but he felt entangled with a partner. He wanted this feeling to last forever.

It put a little extra into his next jump.

Quadruple salchow.

Now onto the step sequence. He tried to picture the person he would be dancing with. Who he was asking to Stay Close to Him. With each step, he was begging. Pleading. Imploring. Don't leave me. Stay here. Not only in my heart. But by my side.

This is who am I. This is everything I am. I am not hiding anymore.

Triple lutz.

His heart began to hurt again. Those chocolate hues came to his mind. He thought he was finally past this, why did they haunt him so beautifully. He tried not to let his emotions show when he skated but the pain leaked through his mask.

Triple flip.

Viktor was so close to the barrier. As he was was during this part of the sequence. There was usually a female fan there he could, with an absent mind, entrance through the music.

Not this time. Not in his mind.

Standing at that barrier was the captivating Japanese skater. A bashful smile played on the lips of the Yuuri within his mind, chin resting on his hand. Elbow on the barrier as he watching with love as if Viktor was speaking to only him.

A soft smile played on his own lips.

Quadruple loop, step, triple loop. He's landed all his quads!

Viktor didn't know what was more dizzying at that moment, his rapid heartbeat or the combination spin. He felt on top of the world though. Unbeatable. Unmatchable.

He was breathing heavily, trying to catch his breath, forcing his emotions back into check. He wanted to scream in frustration as the beautiful colours dulled back down again. He wanted to stay in that moment forever. Whatever that moment was. However it's creations came to be.

Every cell in his body screamed for it.

As he skated off the ice, he had little interest to head to the kiss and cry. He already knew. Everyone already knew. That was his best performance. But now what.

Announcement.

Medals.

Photos.

More Photos.

Conference.

Viktor's thoughts were distracted through the entire end of the Championship. He remembered being on the ice at one point with Chris and Otabek on either side of him. His lips placing a tender kissing the gold medal that was around his neck. The spotlight he was accustomed to.

Next he was with Chris and Otabek again, standing in front of the conference hall they had set up for interviews. Smile and wave.

With Chris to his right and Otabek to his left, he was asked a very loaded question.

"What do you have in mind for next season?"

His finger reached up, gently rubbing his chin as turquoise hues shifted away. He contemplated the best way to answer.

"I'm undecided."

Viktor gave a playful wink to the crowd.

"Not like I would say anyway. Where is the fun in that?"