NB: These drabbles are meant to be read with the main story, Separation Anxiety, which you can find in my works.

Secret

"Shh! Not so loud!"

"Sorry, it's not my fault it fell over!"

"It was so."

"Was not!"

The argument was cut short by the sound of something falling downstairs. Both Viktor and Chris froze in place, Viktor already hanging halfway out the window. Several tense moments passed, neither of the boys moving an inch. They heard the sound of feet shuffling and then the creak of the stairs.

Chris' eyes turned toward Viktor, slightly panicked.

I TOLD YOU THIS WAS A BAD IDEA! he mouthed.

LIAR, Viktor motioned back. It had all been his cousin's idea to sneak out in the first place, and they both knew it.

Thankfully a door closed moments later and it wasn't long before Uncle Valya's heavy snoring rumbled through the wall.

Both boys breathed a sigh of relief.

"That was close," Viktor muttered. His leg was starting to cramp slightly.

"Well, if he'd come in I was going to blame you anyway," Chris shrugged seriously.

"WHAT!?"

"SHHH!"

They paused, but the snoring continued.

"Why would you blame me?!" Vitya hissed through his teeth.

"You're the older one! I'm just an impressionable young thing, you know? Peer pressure is a real problem in today's society."

"I swear I fucking hate you sometimes, Chris."

Chris blew him a kiss.

"Love you too, Vitya. Now hurry up or we'll get caught!"

Grumbling under his breath, Viktor swung his other leg out the window and grabbed at the tree branch just outside. Once he was safely out, Chris followed, and before they both knew it they were out, two young people ready to explore New York at night on their own.

Almost.

"Shit, I forgot my wallet!" Viktor realized as he frantically searched his pockets.

"Are you serious?!"

"Ugh, I think I left it on my desk..." he groaned.

"Dammit, Vitya! What are we gonna do now?!"

"... Go stargazing?"

"Oh, yes. In New York. One of the most light polluted cities on Earth," Chris said drily, rolling his eyes.

"You really need to stop reading the dictionary for fun, Chris," Viktor sighed. "You're thirteen, not a walking encyclopedia."

"Hmph, I don't read the dictionary," his cousin scoffed. "I read literature. Plays and poems and all the old books."

"As if you needed more drama in your life," Vitya chuckled.

"Says the guy who cried because he ran out of the special shampoo for his luxurious mane of hair."

Viktor self-consciously tugged at his hair.

"But it isn't pretty if I don't use the right conditioners," he pouted as they started walking down the street, no real destination in mind. "It's supposed to be like starlight, not like I'm an old lady who got tired of using hair dye."

Chris laughed. "Starlight? Seriously?"

"You're just jealous because you're regular blond and not platinum."

"Vitya, I could be any color of the rainbow if I wanted, and I'd still look amazing."

"Fair enough," Viktor chuckled. "How about we put those looks to good use and make up for our empty pockets?"

"Ooh, sounds fun! I always wanted to try being a stripper."

"What?! I just meant you could use your charm to get someone to give us money, why are you talking about strippers?!"

"Have you seen a stripper dance before?! Holy shit, it's like art on a pole-"

Viktor snorted.

"Can you imagine Uncle Valya's face if you said you wanted to take pole dancing lessons?"

They both slowed to a stop at the street corner, looking visibly pale.

"He's gonna be mad, isn't he?" Chris asked in a grave voice.

"... Probably."

"As mad as that time we left the door open overnight?"

"Worse, I think..."

They both unconsciously rubbed their ears; Valentino often pulled at their ears whenever they misbehaved, though it was always accompanied by furious shouting and various other punishments as well.

"Suffering builds character!" Aunt Lena always said in her singsong voice whenever they were stuck cleaning the toilet or minding the flower shop on the weekend.

They exchanged a nervous look.

"Uh, I think I left the tap on in the bathroom," Chris said hurriedly.

"I think I forgot to leave water for Makka," Vitya said just as quickly.

Ten minutes later they were stumbling back into their room, out of breath, avoiding eye contact.

"We never talk about this again," Viktor muttered once he'd thrown off his clothes and hidden beneath the blankets.

"Deal," Chris whispered back.

Monster

He never expected Viktor to be there. It was sudden, a whirl of confusion, anger, and fear. He was knocked to the ground, his head slammed onto the floor as Viktor shouted, furious tears falling on Nikita's face.

He came back to his senses a second later, and the instinct of self-preservation kicked in. Viktor was larger than him; he was far taller, and younger, but Nikita was stockier, more powerful. He aimed a well-timed blow at the boy's sternum, winding him, and used the momentum to come back to his feet. He heard something break as Viktor fell against the bedside table, but he didn't have time to process what it was.

"Why are you here?!" he shouted, panic and confusion clouding his thoughts. He knew that Viktor had every right to be furious, he knew that what he'd done to Yuuri was monstrous, unforgivable, no matter what the boy did to his self-control, to his filthy, traitorous desires. But Nikita was a survivor, and he'd lived through hell for far too long to let it all end like this. It was against every fiber of his being not to fight back, not to try to stretch out each breath of undeserved oxygen as long as he possibly could.

And then there was a sharp, tearing pain in his neck, and he choked on the sudden onrush of air as Viktor tore hole after hole in his throat with a shard of glass. It was agony, and he tried to fight him off with the last of his strength, desperate, but Nikita wasn't a fool. He'd maimed and broken too many people not to recognize that he was past the point of being saved. His strength was draining, but even then Viktor didn't stop, his blue eyes flashing with wild fury, tears mingling with the blood splattered on his cheeks.

Ah, Nikita realized as his consciousness began to fade. So this is it. This is as far as I go.

Time seemed to be slowing, each strike of Viktor's hand coming more and more slowly as he watched, unable to move or speak.

I deserve this, he admitted to himself, his lungs burning as he accepted the truth he'd been trying to avoid for so long. No matter how dirty, no matter how broken… I should never have touched you, Yuratchka.

You were so much like me… it made me angry... It hurt me. I was weak, I couldn't fight them off, I couldn't stop them from violating me and breaking me… I wanted to break that part of myself, so I wanted to break you too.

His eyes were open, he was sure of it, but his vision was darkening, the seconds stretching out into hours, days, weeks, each agonizing moment painfully slow.

He thought of Yuuri then, of the sweet, kind child he'd tried to help, of the strangely captivating person who was so afraid to hurt anyone that he was willing to allow Nikita to violate and taint him in exchange for protecting his loved ones from the corruption he was sure existed inside him.

And suddenly the full extent of what he'd done seemed to tear through him, more painful than any blade, more excruciating than any form of torture he could devise.

I'm so sorry, Yuuri, please, please, live on. Live on, and I hope you can forget me, I hope you can find the strength to live.

The last thing Nikita Moryakov felt before he died wasn't the cold slash of glass on his skin. It was deep, unending remorse and self-hatred that he could have looked at Yuri Katsuki-Nikiforov, at the boy's beautiful, kind soul, and deluded himself into thinking he could see his own ugly, monstrous self in it.

Sweetness

"Can I open them now?"

Yuuri opened his eyes a slit, only for Viktor to make a petulant noise a second later. He shut them tightly again.

"No, not yet!" he insisted, holding Yuuri's fingers gently as he pulled him forward.

"Where are you taking me, Vitya?"

He could hear the sound of snow crunching beneath their feet, a cold breeze playing across his face. Ahead, he could hear Makkachin barking excitedly.

"Just a minute more, be patient, Yuratchka," Viktor said, his voice bright and obviously excited. Yuuri couldn't help it, he gave a small smile.

"You've been saying that since we left the house," he rebuked.

"But it really is just a little more… Ah, we're here."

Yuuri opened his eyes slowly. He'd been half expecting something ridiculous; Viktor had inherited Katerina's dramatic flair and their definition of 'surprises' was always more extreme than a regular person's might be.

But he was wrong; Viktor had brought him to a small wood overseeing a frozen lake. There was no party, no loud surprise, no one else. Yuuri blinked, slightly confused.

"This…"

Viktor was smiling at him, his eyes dancing in the sunlight.

"I know you don't like being around people," he said. "I was going to take you to a restaurant or something, but… well, I figure Mom will do that later. I wanted to do something for your birthday so it could… just be the two of us."

Yuuri stared blankly at the ice below them. It was beautiful, clear and quiet, reflecting the dappled light that filtered through the pine trees. It reminded him a little of Japan somehow, though his memories of his homeland had faded considerably over the years.

"Yuuri? Do… Do you like it?"

He looked up to see Viktor's eyes on him, his expression worried and nervous. Yuuri couldn't find the words to express how he felt; he was touched, happy that Viktor would remember his love of nature after so many years apart, relieved that there was nothing social expected of him. But he was afraid, because whenever Viktor did things like this, Yuuri wanted to touch him, and every time that happened, his heart would ache with guilt.

Viktor never said no, but Yuuri knew that every time they touched, Vitya became confused and unsure. It was wrong, what they did in the shadows of the Nikiforov home when no one was looking. Yuuri knew that, but he just couldn't stop the desire and need for Viktor's warmth, brother or not. And Vitya would never deny him that comfort, not after what he saw when he'd returned to Russia two years earlier.

So when Viktor asked him a question that earnestly, Yuuri couldn't help his throat tightening, his eyes threatening to overflow with confused emotion.

"Mm," he managed to say, clutching Viktor's hand a bit too tightly.

"I'm glad," Viktor said, obvious relief washing over his face. "I thought we could have lunch and maybe skate together for a while…"

Yuuri could hear his voice, but the words seemed to blur together somehow.

He didn't deserve this kindness, he didn't deserve all the consideration and sweetness that Vitya poured over him every single day. Yuuri knew why Viktor did it, and it wasn't love; it was his way of trying to atone for the past, for leaving Yuuri behind and for the cruel words he'd said upon finding his little brother changed.

A tear slipped down his cheek, and Vitya, as always, noticed immediately.

"Yuuri, I'm sorry, did I do something wrong?!" he asked, frightened. He reached to touch Yuuri's face but paused at the last moment, his fingers lingering just over his skin before he pulled away.

"No," Yuuri said quietly, wiping his face. "I'm just… I don't know. It's nothing…"

"It's not nothing if you're crying," Vitya said firmly. He bit the inside of his cheek, thinking hard. "If you don't like it, we can go somewhere else, or I can take you home if you don't want to be with me or-"

"It's not that," Yuuri managed to say, avoiding his gaze. "It just… I just felt kind of cold all of a sudden."

Viktor was quiet for a moment.

"Yuuri, can… can I touch you?"

Yuuri's mouth went dry. Viktor never asked that. Everything was always initiated by himself, even a simple touch of the hands. He couldn't handle it if he wasn't in control, he couldn't stop the trembling and fear otherwise.

But he found he couldn't say no. He didn't want to say no.

He nodded slowly, his hands shaking and his breath catching in his throat as Viktor took his face in his hands, softly, gently. Yuuri's eyes closed shut instinctively.

It was frightening beyond belief; Yuuri felt like any moment now, Viktor would hit him, would pull his hair, would clamp his hand over his mouth and strip him bare to his soul, defenseless. But that didn't happen.

Instead, something soft and warm was pressed to his forehead, and a moment later to his eyelids and his nose. It was only when his lips followed that Yuuri recognized the sensation as a kiss, though it was unlike any kiss he'd ever initiated himself. This was gentle and sweet. This was considerate and filled him with warmth, with something he'd never really felt before. He was sure his face was flushed when Viktor pulled away, and the tears fell thick a second later.

"Yuuri?!" Viktor asked, clearly panicking. He made to pull his hands away hurriedly, but Yuuri clasped his fingers over them, keeping them in place.

"Do… do that again," he said thickly, his voice cracking. Viktor blinked, but his expression softened into a sad smile.

"Yes, of course. As many times as you want," he whispered, and when their lips met again, Yuuri felt like some of the coldness in his heart was a little easier to bear.

Notes:

Two of these were posted on Tumblr, but the first one was written specifically for this collection. All three stories are meant to give a small glimpse into the thoughts and lives of different characters from the main story, at different points in their lives.

Hopefully they were enjoyable or interesting to read, and I hope to hear from you soon!