victor was biting at his nails; he thought he'd kicked the habit years ago.
there are other habits that you could kick too, victor.
he paced around the room, anxious blue eyes flitting over an unmade bed, shirts strewn over furniture, crumpled fivers and tenners scattered along the dresser.
he found himself caring about the appearance of that room, for once.
victor's first response to nerves was to pump something into his bloodstream to numb it, and save him the hassle of having to deal with the emotion and it's cause. but that day, he just kept picking up and putting down his phone, opening up applications and shutting them again, picking at loose threads hanging off his ripped jeans and scratching his skin to push away the cravings for a sugary white substance.
he gave into nicotine, though.
victor thought about asking chris for yuri katsuki's number - he even typed out the text - but deleted the draft and tossed his phone onto his bed, rubbing his face.
why do you care?
you have the thirty pounds.
that's all you need to worry about.
why do you care?
victor laughed softly, rolling his eyes at himself. he really did act strangely when sober and with a clear mind. and he hated it.
he ruffled the head of the long, snuffling dog that with licking at his ankles, padding about where he sat on the wide white window sill of his room, and bent down to bury his cold face into makkachin's soft, cocoa fur.
"i don't usually get anxious, makka," he mumbled, although he instantly thought it ridiculous that he was talking to his dog out loud.
"so why now? i don't know this boy at all, and here i am, like a child waiting for his friends to arrive at his party. i'm too sober, makka. i'm crazy, aren't i? i am, i know i am."
victor sighed and leant back, hauling the huge dog up onto his lap and stroking her fur rhythmically, as he used to when he was a small boy and suffered from night terrors. his hands caught in small tangles of the poodle's curled fur, whilst her wet nose sniffed at his neck, trying to find the familiar smell of their owner.
victor raised his face from his dog's mass of fur when he heard his phone ping.
chris: victor i'm bored
chris: jj coming over you gonna come?
victor: no
victor: im busy
victor: and i'm fucking stressed
chris: y
just as victor was tapping a reply, he heard the door.
YOU ARE READING
M.O.N.E.Y • viktuuri ✔️
Fanfictionin which fame isn't kind to teenage celebrity victor nikiforov, and he pays a dark haired boy to make him feel less lonely. copyright @beautifulpyscho 2017 •lowercase intended• snapchat fic//dialogue//texting and a shit load of the 1975 trigger warn...
