He’d never been so fucking angry in his life, they had all gotten it wrong not one of them, had understood. Even Yuuri, his beautiful, love who should have understood, didn’t fucking get it and he just couldn’t get the anger to subside no matter how much he smiled or drank it was there boiling away under the surface. Eventually the water was going to run out and the heat would crack the pot.
It was on that day that Victor came home after drinking a great deal, the press conference about the theme of his latest program finally burning off the rest of the water. Yuuri his sweet Yuuri at home with Maka was waiting and just had to ask how it went and Victor wasn’t sure when or how, the alcohol making thing a little fuzzy, but Yuuri was under him and crying. Maka’s whimpers outside their bedroom as Yuuri crying, became rasping pleads.
“Victor, Vitya…please. You’re hurting me, it hurts so much.” Victor could hear him yet couldn’t still his hips the anger drove him fast harder into the mans small body. The tang of metal ripe in the air, something digging at the back of his fogged mind that this smell was important. When Yuuri tried to struggle away he squeezed at his limbs harder leaving behind finger band bruises that he wouldn’t remember making.
“You love me, don’t you Yuuri? Yuuri, my whole program was for you Yuuri, it was our future Yuuri. How could you think it was anything else?!” Each sentence punctuated with a hard-desperate thrust, into the tight heat of the man below him like he was trying to drive the point physically into his body. Something about this was important too but Victor couldn’t think about what it was.
“Vitya, I’m bleeding. Please, stop. Stop, Victor, I love you. Stop.” Yuuri wiggled his arms free from their capture and wrapped them around Victor. “Vitya, no more, you’re hurting yourself, stop.” With that last sentence Victor felt the tears on his face and the cum and blood smeared between their bodies. When meeting Yuuri’s eyes, he didn’t linger, but only find’s pain and an abundance of love, he can’t control the sobs as he extracts his chafed flaccid length from Yuuri, he wonders how long he’s been soft for, but mostly he feels disgusting for hurting his love in this way and being met with love in the face of his anger. His love that…the though shut itself down, like file infected with a virus.
“Shh…It’s alright,” Yuuri rubbed his back trying to sooth the older man, with gentle touches and kind words, “were going to be okay, we’re always okay.” Yuuri kept on, until the sound of Victors grieving broken heart stopped leaking from his eyes and mouth. Together the two Russian men got up from the bed and left the ghost of Yuuri behind, watching them comfort each other in their hurt.
“Yurio…I miss him so much. I’m sorry.” Victor pulled the black wig off Yuri’s head and wept silent tears as the blond hair spilled out.
“Me too, old man.” Yurio understood anger, and they stood silent in the tragedy of their loss, that the world tried to make theirs too.
"Me too." Agreeing once more, feeling the finality of it, hurt in a way his body never could.