The story was prompted by 525Clouds, who asked me to write about Vikor and Yuuri and a cellist and Violinist, respectively. I hope that it turns out well!

Yuuri's bow felt heavy in his fingers as he dragged it slowly across the violin for the first time. In his young, six-year-old mind, the music emanating from its beautiful wooden body felt like a river; hold tight or you would be dragged along down its endless stream. He giggled lightly, the sound echoing through the small music shop.

"Do you like it?" asked Yuuri's mother, Hiroko. She patted her son on the back, standing and taking in Mari, Yuuri's older sister, across the room. She strummed lightheartedly on the bass guitar, her small fingers curling around the neck protectively. Yuuri could tell she was torn; they could only afford one music instrument. She glanced at Yuuri, watching him lift the instrument to his cheek and pull the bow across the strings.

Yuuri could feel his fingers curl instinctively around the neck, playing a note he'd only ever seen Viktor Nikiforov; world famous cellist, play on his cello. Hiroko's eyes widened in surprise as he shook his fingers back and forth on the neck, adding something akin to a vibrato to the note. She let out a breath, closing her eyes.

"We'll get the violin. Come on guys, it's time to go home."

18 years later:

Tokyo Festival of the Arts

Yuuri pulled his violin from his case backstage, remembering his first time picking up the instrument. The violin he owned now was much larger; the small child's one he'd had as a kid had been donated years before, but he still felt the same as he played; like an endless ocean. The music flowed out of his violin in waves, the instrument feeling like nothing more than an extension of his body. He could feel the song flow through him, but he never let himself run away with it.

Well, except this time.

"Yuuri, c'mon! You have to warm up. This is the debut!" yelled his best friend and fellow violinist Phichit Chulanont. They usually played together, but this time Yuuri was going to solo. It was something he'd only done once before and he swore to never do again; yet, here he was, playing onstage alone. It was something he'd seen Viktor Nikiforov do many times when he was touring the world; the man never played a duet. At one point an affluent host at Carnegie Hall had told him that it was necessary that he have another person with him on stage, but he refused. They told him that he wouldn't get to play if he didn't have another person on stage with him, and he got visibly angry.

Guess who didn't play Carnegie that year?

Yuuri sighed, pulling his small violin from its case and knocking out a few practice notes. He tuned his violin at least six times, tightened and loosened his bow at least five, and redid his tie at least more times than he could count. He was nervous; he'd never played something as big as this before. His fingers fumbles over the notes, his bow still wasn't tight enough, the violin wasn't in perfect tune... he started to panic. Phichit placed his hand on Yuuri's shoulder and patted his back.

"Yuuri, you're going to do great!" Cheers erupted from the crowd as his name was announced, and Yuuri felt his heartbeat speed up.

"No... no, Phichit, I can't do this..." Yuuri set down his violin, his breathing ragged.

"Yuuri. Yuuri." Phichit got directly in front of his face, locking eyes with him.

"You'll be awesome. Just breathe." Phichit rubbed his shoulder briefly before standing and holding out his hand. Yuuri hadn't even realized that he was currently seated on the floor, his legs splayed out beside him. He blushed, embarrassed, before taking Phichit's outstretched hand. He stood, gathering his bow and violin and walked out on stage.

Yuuri figured the best way to avoid panicking was to focus on anything but the audience, but it only worked to a point. The ecstatic cries of the crowd were seeping into his conscience and breaking down his already cracked self-confidence. Yuuri gasped out a breath, focusing on the music set out on the stand in front of him, but he couldn't handle it.

Yuuri's hands shook as he drew out the first note, biting his lower lip tightly. His violin squeaked, the sound echoing around the hall and making Yuuri sweat. He tried to focus on the music, on the piece that he'd written, but he couldn't handle it.

For Viktor! -he told himself, but it didn't matter. He could feel the audience's displeasure as he went all over the place, the piece gone from his mind. He tried to re-focus, to gain control of the situation, but he couldn't take it.

Tears streamed out of Yuuri's eyes as he ran towards the doors, trying to maintain the majority of his composure until he could get away from these people.

Away from his failure.