Edge

"Do you wanna be friends or not?"

He felt like he was skating on the surface of a perfectly polished lake on some mountain top, without looking down; a vast immensity of abyss under his feet.

The treacherous wind would leave him breathless, trying to push him off limits but it was exhilarating, cleansing. Worth it.

It was a long way down from here. Greater than he could've ever known.

He took his new found friend's hand.

He skated right over the edge, confidently.

Happily.

It was a long way down but it didn't matter. He wouldn't let him fall.

Abstinent

He almost reaches out to the now dark screen of his laptop.

The calls are starting to get longer every time, crowded by longing silences.

The "I miss you"s neither have said. But they both know.

In every stolen kiss on the corridors, on every quick reverb of the motorcycle engine. On every getaway to watch the stars, hold each other close. Just for now, while they still can.

It's like the warmth of each other's bodies had become an addiction.

He remembers his words: just one more week.

He's been abstinent for too long.

He can barely wait.

Greatest

He had some big shoes to fill, but he would do it. He promised.

With him by his side he could do anything.

He has achieved far more alongside him that he ever had before.

Even coming back to a strange city drifting on the cold winter.

To a warm home and a hug from the back.

"I missed you."

"I still have a lot of training to do to reach you, Viktor."

"No.." He said against the nape of his neck, "you're the greatest already."

"The greatest husband anyone could ever asked for."

He pulled back for a kiss.

Apartment

The winters were harsher this far north. Ruthless.

He was used to clear out the entrance of his family home from the snow, but this was a entirely different feeling.

An entirely different place, with entirely different people: Most of them strangers, really.

He had seen the place before, in pieces: a picture on the couch, a kitchen counter on the back.

But it felt new.

The cold hard wind pushed to keep the door open but he won at last.

"Do you like it?"

A new place to call home. Entirely different.

"I love it."

But perfect on itself.

Bittersweet

Five years he waited to see those eyes again.

This time completely focused on him.

This time accompanied by the brightest smile he's ever seen. One he provoked.

The eyes of a soldier: still fierce, still burning, like emerald green waves of fire.

Strong. Determined. Clear.

His face pressed against his chest hard as only he could.

"You will text me, ok? Promise"

He has waited five years for this. For him.

And he was about to leave his side again. But not like before.

He could endure the beautiful pain just to see those eyes on him again.

"Promise."

Collarbone

He pressed his lips delicately on the top of his head; having him like this, curled up on his lap, made it easy.

He purred and cuddled closer. He always does.

The kiss followed through the golden locks down to his neck. Igniting a familiar sting on his collarbone.

"I will miss you, you know?"

"I know." He tilted his head to give his partner more room, and he took it, nuzzling against the nape of his neck.

He places one more kiss on the slightly pink mark there. He winced. He didn't pull away.

"I will miss you too."

Bless

The seagulls are dancing over the still waters of Barcelona.

He doesn't remember the last day he felt so warm under a winter sky.

He fiddles around with the little golden band on his finger. Let it shine on the morning light.

He told him the seagulls reminded him of home. Saint Petersburg.

But they don't. Not anymore.

Russia was never this warm, never this cozy.

Never this crowded around him.

But the kid said otherwise.

"Reminds you of Hasetsu, doesn't it?"

A new, safe place to call home. Filled with life. With love.

"It does."

He couldn't feel luckier.

King

He felt the cold against his hands, like shattered glass piercing through sking that should be thicker than this.

He never felt so vulnerable, so weak.

His body didn't respond the way it should; he knew the moves but they weren't happening.

He felt himself fall. Deeper and harder than ever before.

He felt himself crumble.

He felt them sing.

You're stronger than this, you can overcome.

You're meant to be on the top.

He can hear the clapping, feel the tears.

You're the king. Get up and look at them.

This is all for you.

You can do this.

Down

He knew the moves by heart; they were imprinted on his body.

One jump, one spin. He fell.

Step. Jump. Fall.

He felt the stares like daggers onto his skin.

You're embarrassing yourself. Stop. Get up, get out.

You're not good enough.

The song is done. He stepped out.

They said it's OK. Sometimes you fall. You just need to get back up.

He wondered if he can.

If his spirit isn't broken yet.

He wondered if he can sink even lower.

He wondered if he'll ever know.

He decided:

The ice will be calling him again.

He'll always listen.

Compulsion

He needed it like he needed to breath.

He said it was a public image thing: he had to have an account. He didn't really want to.

Yet he checked it everyday after training.

Every night before bed.

It gave him strength. Hope.

I'll catch up to you one day, you'll see. Both with medals around our necks.

And I'll tell you all you've done for me.

Just by looking at me that once.

He took his phone again: sick habit.

Yuri plisetsky posted again.

The unforgettable eyes of a soldier.

If they could only look at him once more.