Do You Wanna Build A Snowman? - Viktor Nikiforov x Reader

Christmas Part 6: Viktor & Yura (Evening) - Viktor Nikiforov x Reader

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He managed to somehow successfully steal his phone from Yurio and had therefore kept it from an untimely death by being thrown into the pool just because he was to be kept away from social media and he couldn't discipline himself.

The struggle had been relentless. Yurio is a fast runner and given his age, Viktor was bound to have a hard time catching up with a teenager like the blond. He was only given one strike of luck and he took it, even if it meant having to throw the younger skater into the water.

(Y/N) would be furious... He thought, still guilty as he was about a split second after he did the deed up until now. But no one would have to find out, right?

Yeah, unless Yurio decides to get his revenge by selling me out.

Which the blond probably would, seeing as how he blatantly threatened to tear Viktor's throat with everything he has the moment (Y/N) -as per the Russian punk's words: 'finally wakes up to the realization that Viktor is nothing but a big old bubblehead in the guise of a charismatic skater' and leaves him.

Of course he knows that Yuri didn't mean it, at least not that much, but it still stung. So he left him alone after tossing a towel for him to dry himself with (because even after the blond's scarring outburst, Viktor still cared for him) and had went with the others to shop for clothes and supplies for later.

He wasn't really paying any heed to the trio who attempted to strike a conversation with him but he vaguely heard Mila muttering 'Where's (Y/N) when you need her?' And it only made him all the more depressed because really.

Where is she when we need her? When I need her?

He was sure Mila caught up with his souring mood and it made him at least a little bit happy (as he can be at the moment, which isn't much) when she allowed him to go and take a rest for the afternoon if he wanted to.

"Urgh, I messed up!" He groaned, sounding much like the dying animal the Japanese Yuri was earlier. Head held in his hands as he mentally concocted a plan to just lock himself in and skip the party that would take place in a few minute's time.

It was already around 7:30 pm when he woke up to someone ruthlessly banging their knuckles against his bedroom door.

Half keeping himself from yelling at whoever it was in a demand that the person tell him who they are, he just snuggled deeper into his sheets in a cocoon and covered his head with a couple of pillows.

He was already dressed in the perfect dove grey suit, slacks, formerly crisp white shirt and turquoise tie that (Y/N) had given him in advance for his birthday but he couldn't really care about getting wrinkles in them at the moment.

Not when all he could think of was how the girl would always be thoughtful enough to give him his birthday presents in advance because they both know she wouldn't make it.

As always. It can be exhausting, really, and it was always a sharp blow whenever the realization that she won't be there would hit him, but that never dissuaded Viktor from wishing she could be there by his side every year. Not once.

He waited. Always. And it consistently hurt in a way, because he had invariably seen how much she would've wanted to be with him if only she can. It was and had always been in her eyes -shining brighter than the brightest star- whenever they would talk the rest of the hours remaining of December 25th over at Skype.

"YOU HAVE A GODDAMN VIDEO CALL FROM (Y/N), GET YOUR FUCKING ASS OFF THE BED THIS VERY INSTANT YOU STUPID SULKING-"

Viktor immediately stumbled out of bed in a tangle of sheets and pillows and barely half of it had released him when he pulled his bedroom door open and unceremoniously tumbled out his bedroom and beneath the temperamental teen's feet like a poorly wrapped mummy.

He really didn't need to hear Yurio bombard him with any more insults because he's already wounded as he is at the moment. But when he looked up to see the eternally miffed blond (dressed in a darker grey suit, slacks, and a mint green shirt with a red bowtie) standing tall over his temporarily limp body, he knew he was in for either another slew of insults or perhaps a kick or two on the head or his lower back.

He couldn't even delve that deep into the gentle realization that both him and the teen are wearing outfits that (Y/N) had picked out for the two of them earlier this year.

"Oh god," Viktor moaned and buried his face on the blankets that separated him from the cold floor, "Not my back, okay, Yura? Some other time but not now please." He enunciated his despair in that single plea as he squeezed his eyes shut because the sheets didn't seem to want to let of him just yet.

And imagine his surprise when it did.

Make it thousands more when he opened his eyes to Yurio untangling the sheets off him with pure concentration scrunching up his brows.

"You are a helpless old man." The boy muttered under his breath as he yanked the last of the covers off Viktor.

The older skater couldn't help but stare at the teen, dumbfounded as he pulled himself to sit on his knees. One of his hands reaching out to tuck strands of blond behind one ear, "Thanks." He muttered, turquoise eyes blinking back tears. The Yurio from way back wouldn't have spent even a second before going green on him and beating him to a pulp should he be given a chance.

But of course (Y/N) came. And neither him and Yurio were the same.

"Get up!" The teen demanded, standing up. A hand stretched down towards Viktor, flushed face turned to the side and half-hidden by his long blond fringes.

Viktor was still at a loss for words but when the younger skater turned back to shoot him a glare and began incessantly shaking the hand he offered to his face, the man knew better than to refuse.

"Come on!" He allowed the younger skater to tug him along to where he assumed the laptop where (Y/N) had called was set up, "I could only have so much stories to entertain her for half an hour. And that already includes the katsudon pirozhki that grandpa made." Yurio semi-grumbled and the boy looked younger with that glimmer in his eyes, the subtle chuckle in his voice, and the light skip in his sprints that it made Viktor's heart feel a little lighter because this boy.

This childishly excited little Yurio in smart shoes, the one that everyone doesn't know of and had much less seen, this is one of the closest things he can have of (Y/N) at the moment.

And just as they arrived infront of the door of the presidential suite they reserved for his party, he wrapped his arms around the teen who had one hand raised to turn the knob.

Nuzzling his face on top of one blond head, Viktor whispered and held the boy tighter, "I miss her. I miss, (Y/N), Yura." He repeated the last sentence in Russian.

Yurio -despite of his ire for the man who threw him into the pool earlier- felt outmost sympathy and thus had found his own hands gripping the arms around his shoulders, "Me, too..." The younger skater admitted in a whisper that's meant only for the two of them and the receipient of their bittersweet emotions. His head bent down and his blond locks curtaining his flushed face, tears threatening to spill from his green eyes.

At the first drop of a tear in the sleeve of his suit, Viktor pulled away and mussed the boy's head fondly, "We shouldn't keep her waiting then!" The man chuckled despite of the tears that fell on his own face.

Yurio shook his head, "You should at least make an effort to make yourself presentable!" The blond scoffed before producing a handkerchief from his breast pocket and throwing it over his shoulder as he opened the doors, "Idiot!" He grinned when Viktor struggled to catch the thing and threw him an unguarded smile.

-----To be continued