M.O.N.E.Y • viktuuri ✔️

44.| overdose pt.i

victor knew he could quite easily get a hit from chris in a heartbeat if he asked - and that it would take away the edge, for at least a while - but he didn't pick up the phone and dial chris giacometti's number. instead, he stared blankly at the three words that had been popping up over and over again for the past five days since his party.

message not sent!

he almost threw his phone at the fucking wall in frustration. at this rate, the amount of cocaine he would need to shoot into his bloodstream to make it all seem better would result in an overdose.

look at what you've done.
look at what you've done, victor.
are you happy now?
are you happy that you hurt him?
is that what you wanted?

victor couldn't bear to think of the tears streaming down his yuri's face that night; every one in his eyes there because of what victor fucking nikiforov had said to hurt his angel.

he's not yours, victor.
you pushed him away.
you hurt him.
you broke his heart.

get over yourself, nikiforov.

victor picked up his phone to dial yuri's number again, with the smallest sliver of hope that he would have to hear "call ended. you have been blocked from communicating with this contact. for assistance, press 1" yet again.

but he did, and groaned aloud in anger. it was his fault; for being so selfish and uncaring, for wanting to
hurt his angel with the dark, dark hair and chocolate eyes.

all he wanted to do was hold him in his arms again and beg him to forgive him for every fucking word he had thrown at him in that study; for every fucking word that had made yuri katsuki's eyes fill with tears.

victor lay down on the same grey sofa had lain beside yuri katsuki on over a week ago and ran a hand grouch his hair; god, did it hurt for his arms to ache so much, and for his chest to be so tight as he thought over every fucking word he had said to hurt yuri katsuki.

and it was the silence that was killing him, not the toll of expensive sugar and endless cigarettes; two days before, victor had drunken himself nearly to a stupor, dialled jj's number and sworn, threatened and shouted down the line, so there was someone else who he had cut himself away from.

but victor couldn't care about him; whenever he thought of jj leroy, all he could see was his yuri under jj's hands, followed by the hurt in his chocolate eyes after victor hurt him.

victor didn't like the pain in his chest at the thought, and decided to do nothing more but drown it out with alcohol. chris was at some thing with jj again, so he wouldn't pick up his phone even if victor wanted coke. and although victor had enough cold money to buy it himself, he didn't feel like it.

alcohol was closer to him.

the sound of his phone ringing was isolated in the silence of his big, empty house, devoid of the smell of katsudon or the scent of bubblegum and feel of soft skin.

"hello?" victor said in voice hoarse from lack of sleep; the guilt of want to
hurt yuri katsuki having kept him awake at night in his big, lonely bed with empty, aching arms.