Viktor smiled, that award winning smile that was most likely won him the Oscar last month. The smile that was, inevitably, fake. Viktor didn’t mind, though. For his fans, he would plaster that smile on for the rest of his life. His life was one reliant on opinions so, with that, he would let himself care more about opinions of others than his own.
Because, as he said so often, repeating it like a mantra, ‘everybody loves me’.
At times like these, he never saw it more. He swished his hair back- an effortless attempt at beauty- followed by a wink that had girls, and boys, swooning. He loved it. Viktor craved attention and the ability to surprise. He relied on it.
He relied on a lot of things.
Being alone was one of them. And as the paparazzi cameras flashed, no doubt for articles about his bachelorhood, he continued to smile because at least then he could pretend that he was happy to be alone. He wasn’t. He hadn’t ever been. But, once one gets used to something enough, they rely on not having.
That’s when the boy behind the barrier asked him for an autograph, Viktor thought he might have died. Everything he relied on was about to be blown out of the way and in its place was going to be Yuuri Katsuki. And, no doubt, he quite enjoyed the flush on the smaller boys face as he wrote.
‘To Yuuri Katsuki. Call me. Viktor Nikiforov.’ Followed by his number. It took trust. If he was a big enough fan to come to the red carpet then he surely was enough of a fan to post Viktor’s private number online.
Viktor didn’t care. The constant buzz of his phone was enough if he could talk to Yuuri again.
Viktor continued down the roll of carpet, his smile suddenly seeming less strained and more of a natural aura around him- much to the delight of his fans. He relished in the blinding lights of flashing cameras and the glimmer of his hair in the darkness of his night. Viktor, unfortunately, was a narcissist and these sort of events on proved him to be so. Although, that was most likely how he got to that point in his career.
Viktor looked back, his neck straining when he saw Yuuri again. His eyes were glued to the poster of Viktor in his hands with Viktor's number scribbled across it. Viktor saw a fan lean over the boy's shoulder only for him to bury it into his chest. Viktor didn't think the smile would ever leave his face.
'Mr Nikiforov, you may go inside now.' His bodyguard, which he had yet to remember the name of, told him, his black suit as crisp as Viktor's. Viktor nodded, the smile not diminished despite the attention drawing elsewhere. It seemed his co-star, Otabek Altin- the boy with little expression until it came to his films- had pushed himself mechanically out of his vehicle and onto the carpet. And, although it seemed his fans didn't care, walked down the aisle with nothing more than the grim line of his lips on his face. Viktor wanted to laugh, Otabek was a nice boy and his fanbase was growing but Viktor would be the star.
Everybody loved Viktor.
The effortless fashion, the genetic-given good looks, the incredible dancing skills and the hundreds of partners- boys and girls. No one had given a second thought when they claimed that he was a god. Especially on their TV screens. But, no one saw the real Viktor. Not even Viktor himself could see the real Viktor. Not the flashes, not the fans, not him. Viktor Nikiforov was a secret.
Viktor- period- was well-known. No last name. No personal information. All they had was the paparazzi's pictures of him and his supposed lovers- many lovers. No one minded.
Everybody loved him.
Viktor loved it. Viktor didn't care that in the process he had lost his soul. He knew it would happen when he had begun. He wasn't naive. He knew what fame did. And he craved it. He craved the ability to surprise and only could he do that if he stripped himself of who he was and made a new man. A changeable man.
Then, with Otabek in tow, Viktor went inside. 'No plus one?' The woman at the door asked, her long dress glimmering beautifully under the small spotlights lining the floor. Viktor paused, an idea appeared. One that Viktor knew would screw him over for life.
Viktor no longer cared about his reputation.
Not everyone had to love him.
He turned to his security guard, smiling. 'Sir, you should probably go inside. The carpet will get crowded.' The man said; Viktor ignored him.
'You see that boy with the blue glasses and the black hair. Asian.' Viktor pointed out, causing a few girls and boys near Yuuri to blush and giggle. The security guard nodded. 'He's my plus one, can you get him in?' The guard nodded, although shock was prominent on his face.
'I'll wait here.' Viktor smiled and leant against the wall of the building as half his security detail bustled through the crowd. The fans watching like hawks.
Yuuri, when singled out, looked so flustered that Viktor almost didn't believe that it was him under that tomato skin. But, much to his relief, it was and the security detail were soon escorting Yuuri to Viktor's side.
To say they were a contrast was an understatement. Viktor was a god. Yuuri was, in comparison, a peasant. Not that Viktor saw that. If someone had asked him, he would have said Yuuri was better than a god. Yuuri was already his universe. Yuuri captivated him when nothing could.
But, Viktor was getting ahead of himself and as he saw blushing Yuuri in front of him, he realised that maybe this was all going a bit too quick. Viktor, then, as per usual, had a plan. A very, very, very impulsive plan.
He leant down, his mouth just inches away from Yuuri's ear. 'On the count of three, we're going to run as fast as we can, behind you and to the left. You can do that, right?' Yuuri nodded hesitantly, fear encompassing his body language. But, Viktor could tell some of that fear was coming from the fans' eyes staring at him as if he is the last piece of food left on the earth.
Then, after Viktor whispered three, they sprinted. Yuuri's legs taking him much faster than Viktor's did despite being much shorter. Viktor wondered for a second whether Yuuri was an athlete.
Yuuri turned around the corner and into an alley. Perfect, Viktor thought. 'Hi, I'm Viktor Nikiforov.' Viktor breathed, holding a hand out whilst resting his back against a wall, trying to ignore the dirt that was finding its way onto his a thousand dollar jacket.
'I know.' The boy blurted and despite his embarrassment, Viktor just laughed. The boy was adorable and Viktor could hardly restrain himself from announcing his thoughts to the entire world.
'Um...why did you bring me here?' The boy continued as a thick silence fell between them. Viktor laughed again, smirking.
'Because I like you, Yuuri. And, keeping you there would just make it a publicity stunt. I don't want that.' Viktor was serious and only did his smile return when Yuuri pointed out the major failure in his plan.
'You know running away with a random boy makes it more of a publicity stunt, not less?' Viktor's smile returned, as did his laugh.
'Oh, well. Oops? You mind?' Viktor laughed, trying to cover his own embarrassment.
'Well, you said you didn't want that so I guess I don't mind.' Yuuri smiled, brighter than he had before. Viktor edged forward, looming above Yuuri. Yuuri didn't seem to mind, meeting the challenge. Yuuri couldn't believe it. He was flirting with his favourite actor and Hollywood celebrity.
Yuuri had never been happier.
'You're beautiful, Yuuri.' Viktor whispered, their faces now so close that their breaths met.
'As are you, Viktor.'