M.O.N.E.Y • viktuuri ✔️

75.| marlboro

"if i believe you„ by the 1975

this chapter is literally just an excuse to get this song into the story

~

victor wasn't sure what he was doing, but he was sitting in chris giacometti's car with a cigarette in one hand, marlboro pack in the pocket of his black trousers, flicking the lighter on and off, on and off.

"fuck," he laughed, shaking his head and taking the cigarette from between his teeth. chris didn't look over at him; only focused on the rainless grey sky up ahead. "i've really messed this up."

he shook his head, took a drag, and laughed into the nicotine.

"what a fucking cliché," victor laughed weakly, and fought down the strange, pathetic urge to cry. instead, he started to run his fingers over the cut on his hand from the glass he'd smashed against the wall, leaning his head against the car window as he had watched his yuri do, that night in the motorway wth headlights passing over him as they left the sirens behind.

he's not yours.

"i don't know how to describe it," victor went on, clicking his tongue.

"describe what?" chris found his voice, although he didn't look over at the man sitting in the passenger seat. victor laughed bitterly once again, before looking down at the lighter in his hands.

"what i'm feeling," he said, and watched a car pass them by. "because it's like i can't breathe, chris. i feel...fuck, i don't know...heavy, i guess...like i can't even bring myself to get up...fuck," he broke off, laughing. "i love myself, don't i?"

victor🌊; fuck i love myself, don't i?

message not sent!

"don't say that," chris mumbled, and finally brought himself to look over at victor, who didn't bat an eye.

"i caused this," victor replied bluntly, digging the lighter into his palm. "i was the one who fucking pushed him away...hurt him...just - "

victor rubbed his face with both hands.

" - just because i was high."

victor sighed.

"i promised him i'd stop doing cocaine, chris," victor slumped back in his seat, thinking of the small printed letters of yuri's yellow book's pages, and the way the end of the letter "a" had run into the full stop at the end of "sea."

"do you know," victor sniffed, as if he had just shot up, "he was like an angel, chris."

victor saw chris look away from him, and out at the roads as still as water, and remembered all that had happened in his dark guest room dad before.

he remembered how chris giacometti had kissed him.

"an angel," victor murmured under his breath, so that chris wouldn't hear him. chris rubbed at the back of his neck, and leant back in his seat.

"you're religious, aren't you, chris?" victor said plainly, breathing in nicotine and not the scent of bubblegum he longed for. chris nodded, although he still said nothing.