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Yuuri befriended Victor by pure chance. The two lived in the same building. Yuuri knows this because not only did he see Victor leaving when he was coming in sometimes, but the first time they ever spoke was in the laundry room. Victor had accidentally washed a red pair of underwear with his load of white linens, turning them all pink. Yuuri had tried so hard not to laugh, but failed. Victor shot him a glare before he himself erupted in laughter as well. It couldn’t have been that funny but the two of them laughed for what felt like forever. The bright look on Victor’s face was ingrained in Yuuri’s mind. You couldn’t even see all the sadness he held in him. Not a single trace.
The interaction ended with Victor Nikiforov’s number in his phone and by the time he went to bed that night, they had plans to hang out.
Victor was the only friend Yuuri had had in years and it was so refreshing. Yuuri was a homebody to say the least, but Victor was the opposite, it was like he didn’t ever want to be alone. He would constantly drag Yuuri out to go places with him.
The first place Victor drug Yuuri was to the movies to see a new Indie film that came out. Yuuri was confused most of the time but he found the film rather humorous and lighthearted. Victor had thought the opposite. He said it left him feeling gutted and that he related a lot to the main character's loneliness. That should have been the first sign.
They hung out more and more after that. Victor drug Yuuri to more movies, as well as parks and museums. He had a love for the arts and though Yuuri didn’t really understand any of it, he found it fascinating. Victor filled him in on everything he knew. “This was the last piece created by this artist. He wrote that it depicted his loneliness. He killed himself days later. It’s said this piece was his suicide note.” Victor spoke so eloquently about the art and their artists. He was a genius of love and loneliness. Thinking back, that’s really when Yuuri finally started to see it. The dark lines under Victor’s eyes, the smell of scotch that faintly attached itself to him. The sadness Victor saw everywhere was a lense created by the gaping hole left in his own chest by his own sadness.
—-
Yuuri didn’t know what took him to the roof that night. He was climbing the stairs to his apartment and felt the cold breeze, so he walked up the steps to the door to the roof. It was cracked open, so he pushed it. Across from him, Victor’s silhouette was perched on the edge. In an instant, Yuuri knew.
“Victor?”
Victor turned back to him slowly. He held an unlit cigarette in his hand.
“Oh… Yuuri.” His accent hung thick on the words.
“It’s cold. Come inside.”
“But it's so beautiful up here,” Victor turned towards the city that stretched out beyond the rooftop.
“Woah, hey,” Yuuri took a step towards him. “Come down and stop a moment.” Yuuri slowly reached out to grab Victor’s hand. Victor let himself be pulled away from the edge. He looked at the unlit cigarette.
“Do you have a light?” From the close proximity Yuuri could smell the alcohol on his breath.
“Not on me, no. Do you have one in your apartment?” Yuuri hoped he could coax Victor back to his room.
“I do.”
“Okay.” Yuuri nodded towards the door and Victor took off.
Yuuri had never been to Victor’s apartment before. If they hung out at anyone’s place it was always Yuuri’s. His apartment was well-decorated. Victor obviously had money the way he decorated both his apartment and himself reflected that. However the place was unkempt. Not in a disgusting way, but rather a way that reflected an owner that barely lived in it. The only indication someone was actively here was the bedroom, which Yuuri saw as he walked to the living room. Victor had found his lighter and was standing on his balcony as he smoked.
Victor’s state worsened from there. Yuuri found himself alone a lot more, Victor reaching out less and less. After not hearing from Victor for a few days, Yuuri went to his apartment. He knocked softly on the door, but there was no answer.
“Victor?” He knocked again. No answer.
He tried the door, it was unlocked. He cracked it open and walked in. Victor wasn’t in the main room or the bedroom. Instead Yuuri found him collapsed on the ground of the bathroom, a pill bottle in hand, but the cap still screwed shut. Yuuri rushed to Victor’s side and took the bottle from his hands. Victor didn’t fight him. Instead He let himself be hoisted up by Yuuri and led to his bed. Once he was laid down, Victor pulled his knees to his chest and began to cry. It was so silent, Yuuri wouldn’t have even noticed if it weren’t for his shaking body. Yuuri stood, watching his figure shake. He shut off the light to the bathroom and climbed in behind Victor. He wrapped his arms around Victor as best he could and pushed his head against his back. He held him as tight as he could, as if he could squeeze the pain out of his body.
At some point the two of them had fallen asleep. When Yuuri woke up with the sun shining in on his face, and took a moment to orient himself to his unfamiliar surroundings. He and Victor were no longer touching. Yuuri glanced over to the man, his chest rose and fell evenly and Yuuri determined he was asleep. Yuuri climbed out of bed and padded to the main room and to Victor’s kitchen. He searched his cupboards for something to cook, but didn’t find much besides alcohol bottles. Finally in the back of one of the cupboards he found some instant oatmeal. He cooked enough of it for the two of them, filled a couple glasses with water and returned to Victor’s room.
He set the dishes down next to the bed and sat down, shaking Victor awake slowly. He blinked in the brightness of the room.
“Yuuri?”
“Good morning.” Victor looked confused to see him. “I made you some breakfast.” He lifted the glass to Victor and opened his hand to reveal some painkillers. “I’m sure you feel like shit.”
Victor took the glass and medicine, “I do, thank you.”
Yuuri gave him a weak smile. They ate together silently and Yuuri took their dishes to the kitchen, Victor following behind. As Yuuri washed the dishes he racked his brain on what to say. Victor obviously wasn’t okay, but he had never come to Yuuri about it, he didn’t want Yuuri to know.
“Victor, I-”
“Yuuri, don’t, please.”
“Victor…”
“Yuuri, I said don’t.”
“You’re not well.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Victor had crossed the room and collapsed onto the couch.
“I want to help you.” Yuuri walked to where he sat and knelt down, “Let me help you.”
Victor looked at him and for the first time Yuuri could truly see all the sadness in them.
“How do you expect to do that?”
“I don’t know. But I know there’s people out there that can.”
“Oh yeah,” Victor scoffed.
“There are. Therapists, doctors, that kind of stuff.”
Victor didn’t reply. Yuuri grabbed his hand softly and he looked back at Yuuri.
“Just look into it, okay?”
Victor nodded slowly and Yuuri couldn’t decide if he believed him or not.
“I miss your smile,” He added lightly.
“Me too, “ Victor replied, cracking one, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Yuuri smiled the same weak smile back.
--
Victor started going to therapy and Yuuri thought he was seeing progress. Victor invited Yuuri out and they went and saw the newest Indie film and got dinner at Victor’s favorite restaurant. He was in a great mood and insisted on paying for everything despite Yuuri’s arguments. They finished the night by getting gelato down on the corner of their block. Victor wished Yuuri a goodnight at his door, and thanked him for being such a great friend to him. “I’ll see you later,” he had said, kissing Yuuri’s hand lightly before turning away from the door. Yuuri’s cheeks felt impossibly hot as he watched Victor walk away.
That was the last thing Victor ever said to him.
Yuuri woke up that morning to sirens outside his window. He groaned and checked the time. It was 5:50 in the morning. He climbed out of bed to look down at the scene and saw paramedics rushing into the building. He immediately got a sinking feeling in his gut. He called Victor as he got dressed enough to be considered decent. When he got no reply he grabbed the spare key he had to Victor’s apartment and climbed the steps to his floor. Sure enough all of the commotion was centered outside Victor’s apartment. Yuuri took off running down the hall, trying to get through, but an officer held him back.
“Sir, you can’t come through.”
“I’m his friend, please,” Yuuri cried, desperate.
“I’m sorry, I cannot let you in.” He held Yuuri back as the paramedics entered the room and returned back with a stretcher. The body on it was covered head to toe in a black blanket and Yuuri’s chest tightened. Inside the apartment he got a glimpse of empty bottles littered on the floor. There were so many. Once the paramedics left the room, the police officers on the scene sealed off the door, and the one holding Yuuri let him go.
“Do you know if he has any family?”
Yuuri thought back, Victor had never mentioned anyone else to Yuuri, ever.
“N-no, it’s just me.”
“And you are?”
“Um. Yuuri Katsuki.” He gave the police officer his contact information before he nodded and followed his fellow officers out of the building.
‘What happened,” he turned to the older woman next to him.
“I don’t know. I was sleeping and heard a loud noise like a gunshot from his apartment and called the police.”
Yuuri’s stomach felt sick. They’d just been together. He’d just been so happy. He told Yuuri he’d see him later. Had he planned this? Yuuri felt his legs grow weak under him. He slid down the wall behind him until he was curled up against it and began to cry.
--
It turned out Victor really did have no one. Despite an extensive database search, they couldn’t find a single living relative to Victor. His mother had died of illness when he was younger and his father killed himself years later. Yuuri really was all Victor had.
They said he had died almost instantly. Yuuri was relieved at first that he hadn’t suffered, but then he remembered the attempts leading up to this one. He remembered the dark circles under Victor’s eyes, the sadness he saw in everything, the sadness that saturated every inch of his being, only fading when Yuuri was around, like he felt he had to hide it. Victor really had just been on borrowed time the whole time. A bomb waiting to go off. He had suffered the whole time.
Yuuri just wished he could have helped him get better, but love couldn’t fix Victor. Only Victor could fix Victor.
Yuuri didn’t have a service. What was the point? Instead he had Victor cremated and spent that evening curled up in his bed, crying. The linens smelled like him, and Yuuri hated himself for all the things he didn’t say. There was so much he wanted to say.
Once he had finally saved up enough money, Yuuri took a trip to Saint Petersburg. He did research to find where Victor’s mother had been buried and had his headstone erected near it. Since there was no body to bury, he spread his ashes across the soft grass, saving his words for when they would meet again.