I wonder how long Victor has been waiting for someone to treat him with softness.
Because whenever someone is interested in him, they think the charming, suave, can’t-touch-this playboy is all there is to Victor. That just because he wears gold, and eats quads for breakfast that he has lost his need for kindness and softness. Everyone from his coach to his fans see him either as a child to be disciplined, or a trophy to only touch when polishing.
I wonder when was the last time someone, anyone, treated Victor like he was something precious?
People would see his sharp angles, silver hair, fame and fortune and automatically conveniently forget the fact that he is human as well underneath it all. And they would claw at him until all he had left were hollow bones.
The closest Victor got to being softly touched by another human being, was when he was handled. A disinterested arm to turn him just so for the camera, the way the hairdressor swept back his bangs to trim them, the accidental brushing of fingers when handing someone something.
People forgot Victor, until Victor too forgot how comforting it was to feel soft fingers brushing his face like it was something special, like he was something special.
And then came Yuuri. Yuuri who would jump away at Victor’s every attempt to get closer, but who would softly drape a blanket when Victor fell asleep somewhere that wasn’t his room, who gently poked his hair, and laid his hand, light and yet present at the same time, over Victor’s head in forgiveness. Who caressed his face, until Victor could feel the gentle heat from the callouses in his fingers. And he did this in bed, he did it in front of his (their!!!) family and friends. He even did it in front of the whole world.
Unafraid, unapologetic, and soft in his love.
And Victor who had previously onyl been a spectator to softness, who had always been too sharp, too smart, and had a head full of noise and edges, felt enough.