#this was too long and too cheesy i'm so sorry fjsdkljfklsjfklsd

[ferluccia]

Okay, so we know Viktor is a bookworm. This has been established, right? Well, what about young Vitya who, when going around the world for competitions, buys books regardless of the language. And he orders dictionaries online, and translates them personally. (Because being at the top of the world can be kind of lonely.)

I FEEL REALLY SORRY FOR NOT GETTING TO THIS EARLIER BUT!!!! I LOVE THIS!!!

Victor’s relationship with books dated back to a long time. Yakov’s first memory of him included a book snuggly held against Victor’s chest. 

It made for a funny picture—the small, wide-eyed child holding a big book like it was a teddy bear, refusing to let go of it even though he would have no time to sit and read. Yakov remembers being able to peek at the title—it was The Hobbit, a colorful and illustrated version—and at his curiosity, Vitya’s mother chuckled and shook her head.

“He won’t leave home without bringing a book along,” she explained.

Little Vitya was a stubborn one. It was a trait he carried on into his adult life.

“Mommy,” Vitya tugged at her sleeve, eyes following the skaters on the rink, “can I skate yet?”

“I don’t know. How about you ask your new coach?” She replied, encouraging him to step forward and talk to Yakov. 

Vitya, back then a five-year-old, already knew how to be polite and charming, raising his chin up to look at Yakov with his big blue eyes and swiping his hair back.

“Coach Yakov, may I use the rink, please?“ 

Yakov would be heartless if he refused.

“Of course. But you can’t take your book with you.”

He almost expected Vitya to widen his eyes and clutch at his book, perhaps insist on taking it to the ice with him by the way he had been carrying it all morning or turn to his mother and say something along the lines of “I don’t like this new coach”. Instead, little Vitya frowned, offering Yakov his book with a seriousness of a real adult who confided something of great importance.

“Then… can you keep it for me?”

It had started like that. Vitya would always bring a book along, and handing Yakov his book for safe-keeping before lacing up and stepping on the ice became a part of their routine. It happened before classes, it happened before competitions. Sometimes he would curl up in a corner of the rink and read his book while waiting for some free time to skate.

Victor’s passion for books became even more evident as he grew up. He always had one in his bag, but also always brought one from home. Yakov couldn’t tell which one he was reading—or if he was reading both—but he would never question it. 

“The bookstore had a sale and I couldn’t resist,” twelve-year-old Vitya would explain when he arrived late for practice, and Lilia would only shake her head and look at Yakov.

Sometimes it was a bit of a problem. Just like he would refuse to do his warm-ups before finishing a chapter, he always backed one too many books for his trips.

“Why are you bringing so many books for?” Yakov asked as he loaded the taxi with Victor’s luggage. “Do you think you’ll be able to slack off just because you won gold in the last competition?”

Teenager Victor chuckled, glancing at his struggling coach as he scratched Makkachin behind her ears. 

“I don’t know. I might get tired of waiting for my turn and read a dozen books before I step on the ice,” he teased.

It was a known fact Victor was a fast reader, but the reason why he brought a bunch of books wasn’t because of it. It was something Yakov didn’t entirely understand, and something he wasn’t exactly interested in encouraging. 

Victor traded them with other competitors—sometimes giving up on his beautiful, limited edition cover books in favor of getting a ratty, old book in a language he couldn’t understand. Most of the times they weren’t even the same books—giving up on his treasured, flawless Anna Karenina for a coffee-stained, decade-old single volume Narnia in Italian? 

Yakov didn’t understand. But Victor—he was always elated to trade books with people, no matter what it was, and would start reading it as soon as possible,  running to the nearest shop in search of a dictionary that could help him understand the book.

When Victor turned fifteen he moved to Yakov and Lilia’s apartment to focus on his training, aiming for Junior’s gold in the following season. One condition, though—he could bring no more than ten books. 

He protested. Being rightfully furious about the proposal, Victor refused to agree with Yakov’s terms—even though he understood the reasoning behind such imposal—and was only after a lot of negotiation from Lilia’s part that he finally decided to agree.

“How?” Yakov asked as Lilia brought him the good news.

“He won’t be bringing any books. I’ve offered him my library instead.”

“Your books are all in French.”

Lilia smirked, offering Yakov the famous you fool eyes that were affectionate and mocking all the same.

“You know that is not a problem for him.”

Reading a lot was never exactly a problem or a harm to his growth as a skater. Victor was a promising athlete with incredible potential, excited to win and passionate about his sport. 

The real problem was that kids his age weren’t that passionate about reading. They had other interests—like games, movies, dating, and books just didn’t seem to be a popular top priority like it was for Victor. 

Victor had always been charming, talkative and approachable, and when Yakov asked him to interact with other skaters at banquets, he would quickly gather a small group around him and would talk passionately about the latest story he read, exchanging impressions about characters and other things. 

But after a couple of hours, Victor was nowhere to be seen. He would usually head back to his room, grab his book and find a peaceful place to read. More often than not, Yakov heard other people commenting about how focused he was on his book and lamenting not wanting to interrupt his reading.

As enjoyable as they were, books made for a lonely hobby.

When Victor got his own apartment a magazine made a photoshoot there, and they could not hide their surprise as they learned that Victor had read all the books on the shelves of his living room, save for a small pile that was kept next to the sofa where he would curl up after practice and read. They made sure to include that information when the interview was released, and Yakov remembered clearly the reaction it had gotten from the public. 

Between practicing and reading, Victor Nikiforov did little else. People made a huge deal out of it—providing lengthy blog posts about how those hundred of books spoke of solitude and a somewhat intrusive trend of asking Victor personal questions about his mental health. 

Victor dismissed those rumors saying something about being too immersed in stories to think about being lonely. To his inner circle, it was easy to notice otherwise.

However, Yakov noticed a change when Victor moved to Japan. It was growth. It was selflessness. First, he had taken only around ten books on his trip, which meant a significant effort from his part of getting to know someone, and being unsure about his future and the path he had taken. Bitter, he didn’t want to think too much about it, dismissing those things as Victor’s aloofness as he packed in a hurry.  

For once, Yakov enjoyed being proved wrong. Wrong about Victor being selfish. Wrong about Victor not being able to coach. Wrong about Victor not knowing what he wants. 

Being a teacher, after all, was about watching your pupils overcome and surprise you. And even though Yakov was still a bit bitter about it, he admired Victor for his growth. 

“I’ll keep it for you,” he heard Victor say from the sideline, picking the book from Yuuri’s hand with care. 

They stood a couple of steps away, Yuuri removing the guards from his blades while Victor’s help, his coat thrown haphazardly over his shoulders as he assumed the role of coach after his train was over. 

“Can you mark the page for me?” Yuuri asked. “I forgot the bookmarker in the dressing room.”

“Of course. What did you think of the chapter?”

Wide-eyed, Yuuri turned around with a big smile on his face, nearly jumping over the boards in excitement while trying to not make a scene. It was funny. It reminded Yakov of young Vitya. 

“I wasn’t expecting the plot twist to be that big? It was difficult to put the book down! I nearly skipped training just so I could finish it.”

“I know! I was sure you’d like it!” Victor smiled excitedly, holding the book close to his chest. “You won’t believe what happens in the next chapter. It gets so much better, you have no idea!”

“Vitya!! You promised not to tease!” Yuuri laughed, pushing Victor playfully.

“Yuuri, get to work!” Yakov called out, only then noticing how he was watching the scene with a shy smile. 

“Oh—Sorry, Yakov!” Victor smiled apologetically, leaning over the board to give Yuuri a kiss before watching him glide on the ice. 

Victor had always had a weak spot for cheesy romance novels. Yakov wanted to laugh when he remembered Victor is living one of them. 

“Go on. Join him,” he said, nudging Victor’s shoulder. “Yuuri skates more passionately when you’re there with him.”

Victor looked at Yakov with his eyebrows raised and lips parted in surprise. He didn’t say a word, and yet his coach was able to read the emotions flowing in his eyes. 

“Alright,” Victor smiled, offering him the book. “Can you keep this for me?”

#kfldjslkfsjdkl SORRY I HAVE SO MANY FEELINGS ABOUT BOOKWORM VITYA #this was too long and too cheesy i'm so sorry fjsdkljfklsjfklsd #ficlet #andie writes #yuri on ice #victor nikiforov #yuri katsuki #viktor nikiforov #yuuri katsuki #victuuri #viktuuri #yakov feltsman #lilia baranovskaya #makkachin #yoi #katsuki yuuri #long post