Mailbox: Victor Nikiforov


Yuuri Katsuki, Victor Nikiforov, Phichit Chulanont, Christophe Giacometti

3300+ words | Angst, Romance, Life, Fantasy, slight!Friendship, Shounen-Ai | 15


It was the only bridge between life and afterlife, between the lived and the dead, between the soul who still bounded to the earth and the soul who had been freed from pain.




It had been weeks, or maybe even months.

Yuuri did not remember. At all.

His life had been blurry; passing so quickly, meaningless, and confusing. There were these heavy and numb feeling in his chest, lodged inside his ribs, gripping so hard that he might had bruises inside. But Yuuri didn’t even care. He couldn’t bring himself to care, and some part of him thought that pain was indeed addictive. He was drunk in his own sadness, taking another sip of tears, and then another, another one, and so on. He couldn’t stop, he didn’t know how to stop, and maybe he didn’t want to stop.

He was fine like this, he was content with his own life, he didn’t need someone to cheer him up.

Yuuri knew that he looked pathetic, knew that he was miserable. But he was fine, really. After all, this kind of outcome should be expected since he himself had been a coward who keep stuttering and beating around the bush instead of confronting his own feeling. It was his own fault that made him like this, something that he had already knew even since the beginning of their relationship. Yet, he still chose to not take any action, let his anxiety and self-doubt won, and saw the years passed by in vain.

Consolation was something that he didn’t dare to hope for, something that shouldn’t be given to someone like Yuuri.

Yet, today, Phichit and Chris dragged him out of the dormitory, muted every complains, and argued that they just want to help Yuuri feel better.

Yuuri didn’t want to feel better.

“He won’t be happy if you keep sulking, Yuuri.” Phichit started again, pushing Yuuri through the door that had been opened by Chris. “And we just want to help.”

“I’m not sulking,” Yuuri mumbled, letting Phichit to drag him into the corner of the cafe and choose their seat. “And I can’t be happy right now, okay? It feels wrong—“

“It’s been six months now, Yuuri,” Chris added, smiled a little. “Don’t you think he’ll suffer too if you keep being like this? I know him for years, I know that he certainly doesn’t want to see you sad.”

“He panicked when you cried back then.” Phichit waved his hand to call the waiter, then turning his attention back to Yuuri again. “You said it yourself right, that he didn’t know what to do with people crying in front of him?”

But I’m not crying in front of him, Phichit, Yuuri thought, bitting his lips. I don’t even cry anymore. Do you ever know how it feels to run out of tears?

“Besides, we have a pretty good idea.” Chris took a brief pause when the waiter came to their table, quickly noting their orders before left them on their own again. “You don’t want us to console you. We won’t then. We just want to give you advice, and you’re free to decide whether you want to take it or not.”

“I… I don’t know, Chris.” Yuuri admitted, taking a deep breath and relishing the feel of fresh air flowing into his chest. Any minutes now, the burden in his chest would grow and crushed him again. It would make him gasp for breath, curled up in panic and guilt, consumed him from inside, and took over his mind for hours. “I mean… it’s already too late and—“

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

“Physically, yes.” Phichit sounded so sure, his tone not even wavered for a second. “But feeling lasts, Yuuri. And we all know that Mailbox to Heaven exists to serve a purpose like this.”

Mailbox to Heaven.

Of course. Of course Phichit and Chris would come up with an idea like this.

It’s not that Yuuri never thought about it nor that he despised the idea. Mailbox to Heaven, no matter how magical, mysterious, or irrational it sounded, was not only a myth or legend. It was a part of their life, of every people that had been losing someone at certain point in their life. It was the only bridge between life and afterlife, between the lived and the dead, between the soul who still bounded to the earth and the soul who had been freed from pain.

All he had to do was write a letter about his unspoken feeling, put that letter in the blue mailbox located near the shrine in their town, while hoping that his feeling, his heart, and his pain was strong and sincere enough. People said that the angels (or the gods, or whatever kind of deities they were) would deliver the letter to the sky only if they deemed the writer of the letter worthy enough.

Yuuri didn’t know if he’s worthy enough, if he was something significant in Victor’s life.

Back then, when he was twelve, he had seen Yuuko—one of his best friend since childhood—sent a letter to her mother who passed away two month earlier. Yuuko had been so sure with her feeling, so certain that her mother would read the letter. And she did right, because one week after that, her mother’s necklace (which initially had been burried along with her) came back on the top of Yuuko’s desk along with a short letter in her mother’s handwriting. Yuuko still used that necklace till now, a proof that Mailbox to Heaven wasn’t a myth or a false hope for those in sorrow.

But Victor wasn’t his family. Their friendship, if Yuuri could call it like that, wasn’t even that long and close. Their relationship was vague; full of uncertainty, of pushing and pulling, of casual flirting in day-to-day basis, of things that couldn’t be said until they ran out of time. Despite what Phichit and Chris said, Yuuri didn’t even know if Victor actually loved him. Sometimes, he was so sure that Victor was indeed in love with him. He was sure that he wasn’t the only one falling. But other times, many times, Yuuri concluded that he might be overconfidence with himself. The feeling between them couldn’t be that deep, right? Even if Victor did love him and reciprocated his feeling, it might lasted for months only, year if he was lucky.

And now, he wanted to act like Victor was his soulmate for life or something like that.

Yuuri silently laughed at himself, at how silly his thought was. He wasn’t someone important in Victor’s life, he never been one. That was the truth, no matter how bitter it was. Victor wouldn’t be waiting for his letter, and he might be bothered if Yuuri’s letter end up reaching him. Yuuri wouldn’t get any reply, not even a simple and short sentences, because he didn’t deserve it. Why would he? He was a coward, a ball full of anxious and depressing thoughts, and Victor certainly deserved better than that.

He should just go back to his dorm, drowning in his own sadness, drinking his own regret. He could handle his own sorrow, he didn’t need to bother Victor, not again, not now. Victor already belong to a different world, and that’s the reality that Yuuri should accept. He wouldn’t be his, they wouldn’t be together.

“Don’t think too much, Yuuri.”

Yuuri snapped his head, his train of thought immediately halted. “I… Phichit… you know that I can’t….”

“And why not?” Chris raised his eyebrows, frustrated. “Because you think that you don’t deserve a chance like this? One last chance to make a contact with Victor?”

At Chris’s words Yuuri winced but managed to reply, “Yes. I’m not his best friend, Chris. That’s you. And lover? I’m pretty sure he had other lovers too in the past. I’m not someone special.” But he’s special for me, Yuuri added silently. And that’s my business. It has nothing to do with Victor. Not anymore.


“You’re special for him. How many times should I say it?” Chris balled his fist, trying hard to contain his own emotion. “I’ve been his roommate since first year of college, Yuuri. He was so smitten, he was falling all over for you and you only. He always talked about you, he never went to some kind of stupid blind date or flirting with others except you. Do you even know how frustrating is that?!”

Yuuri blinked, didn’t know how to respond. A waiter came over, delivering their order without noticing the tense air between them. Phichit muttered his ‘thank you’, waiting the waiter to go, before added, “Chris’s right, Yuuri. Victor certainly thought of you as someone important in his life.”

“B-but… he shouldn’t… he couldn’t have….”

“I don’t want to use this card but you left me with no other choices.” Chris sighed, sipping his coffee and exchanging short glance with Phichit. The other man nodded, shoulder tensed but he said nothing to stop Chris. “He already made plan to confess to you. Right after his summer holiday in St. Petersburg.

“He said to me that he’s still unsure, but he couldn’t hold it in anymore. He wanted you to know his feeling, he wanted to be able to call you as his boyfriend. He was tired of pretending, Yuuri, tired of acting like he only wanted you as friend. He planned to get something special to you from his hometown, then confess to you right after that. But….”

But his family car got into crash during his visit. And the only thing that we got was a news of his sudden death.

“Chris, I….” Yuuri felt like something was choking him, gripping so tight at his neck. “I’m sorry… I….“

“He was not a coward even though he didn’t confess earlier.” Chris added. “He was thinking about you, about your anxiety and self-doubt. He didn’t want to be a burden to you, he didn’t want you to overthink this matter. He had loved you that much, and I’m pretty sure that his soul up there still love you as big as his soul back then.”

Phichit took out a pen and paper from his bag, handing them out to Yuuri with a small smile in his face. “You know what to do, right? Maybe, this time, you should be the one who confess to him first. Don’t disappoint him, Yuuri. He deserved peace, don’t you think?”

Yuuri couldn’t form a proper answer to that, except nodding and accepting the paper. He still didn’t know what to write, he still a little bit unsure, but he would try. He should try, because maybe, just maybe, this was the only way for them to resolve their unrequitable feeling. It’s okay if Victor end up not replying him, it’s okay if the other man already moved on. At the very least, Yuuri just wanted to let his feeling out of his chest.

“Thanks. But can you guys give me some time?”

Phichit nodded, taking his paper cup and getting up immediately. Chris chose to finish his coffee first, then patted Yuuri’s back and followed Phichit.

“Sorry for the harsh words, Yuuri, but good luck with your letter, okay?”







Do you remember that day, when your blue eyes found mine and we called it as our first meeting?

That day, around two years ago, I was in bad mood. My anxiety hit me like a train out of nowhere, I got depressed, I just wanted to run from the world. I ended up in a small cafe near campus, the only place that seemed quiet enough. I was the only customer, right at three p.m. in the afternoon. I sat down, I didn’t want to order anything, but you, who worked part time as a waiter, popped out of nowhere. You asked me if I want something, and I snapped out at you. I thought you were invading my space, I was hating myself for being childish, but you just smiled and left. Who knew that minutes later, you came back with a cup of colourful frappucino. I hate frappucino, it was too sweet for me, but you put the cup in my table and said, “My treat. I hope it can brighten your day.” And guess what, you were right. Frappucino still too sweet for me now, but drinking them make me remember your smile and it does brighten my day.

Do you remember our second meeting, when you couldn’t find any chair at the library?

I was sitting alone, doing an assignment that I couldn’t even comprehend. Then, just so sudden, your voice broke the silence. Did you have a habbit of popping out of thin air? You always managed to surprise me, and at the same time, annoyed me. I still remember your greeting that day, something along the line of “you did the calculation wrong”. I was pissed off, I didn’t care if you were that man who gave me free frappucino, but you just laughed and added, “I passed this course with flying colours, you sure you don’t need my help?” and immediately took my assignment. I didn’t say “thanks” that day, maybe it’s because I’m still pissed off at your overconfidence attitude. But I do remember that we exchanged name that day. And your name was Victor Nikiforov.

Do you remember that small talk when I was daydreaming in the park alone?

You seemed to always found me in every bad day that I had, didn’t you? I took a walk to clear my mind, sitting alone in the bench, when you, for the third time, appeared and asked, “You like white lilies? They’re my favorite too!” It was so random, but I ended up said yes (and yes, it was the truth) and we talked and chatted and made up some stupid philosophies of white lilies. I said that white lilies are beautiful but somehow sad, you said that white lilies represent something innocent. And I laughed so hard because it was so unexpected. You and being innocent? It didn’t match at all, Victor. But I didn’t argue back, I accepted it, and now I’m thinking that maybe you did have an innocent side that were hidden somewhere.

Do you remember our first lunch together, just because Phichit dragged me to join you and Chris even though there were so many tables available?

I should thanked Phichit again and again for this. Finally, came a day where I could laugh and tease you endlessly. What’s with you and your hate towards pineapple in your pizza, Victor? You were picking out the pineapple with pout in your face, while I stared at you in horror. Why? It was the best thing that could happen to a pizza and yet you removed it! We argued a lot about it, and finally you dumped all of the pineapple that had been picked out in my pizza. I never ate so many pineapple in one serve of pizza before, but I didn’t complain. We should just keep eating pizza together, though. We were kinda compatible that way.  

Do you remember that impulsive dance in the skating arena, just because you were too bored to play in arcade?

Chris and Phichit were playing all kind of games, but you weren’t interested. I was the same. I hate the loud voice, the sight of people moving around in a crowd, the bright colour that made me dizzy. So I just played along when you dragged me out of the arcade, walking around the mall, until we found a small ice rink that wasn’t as crowded as the arcade. You challenged me to skate, and I thought this was a good opportunity to show-off my skill. You might only knew some of the basic technique, while I could do some jumps like those athlete in competition did. And really, I was so sure with myself until you glided on the ice and landed a triple flip and made everyone in the rink clapped so loud. So I showed-off mine too, and then you did yours again, and I tried to do some spin, and when we got tired, you just pulled me closer and asked for a dance. I complied, because why not? You were so warm, Victor, always so warm that I couldn’t push you away and get annoyed at you anymore.

Do you remember that incident at beach, when four of us went for a summer holiday, one year before you decided to go forever?

Sure, beach was nice and all. But you didn’t know and I never told you that I had just experienced a panic attack the night before. I didn’t want to admit it, I didn’t want you to see me as someone weak. Well, now I do know that you wouldn’t see me that way, but back then I was scared. You were always so bright, and I didn’t want to obscure that light with my dark thoughts. I was shutting myself down, sitting alone under the umbrella while three of you throwing ball, playing water, and basking under the sun. But you noticed me, you noticed and you wouldn’t let me to just sit. You ran to me while grabbing a bottle, thinking that it was a mineral water, then you dumped the liquid inside to my head. You were hoping to get me wet so you could drag me to the sea, but it turned out that you just dumped some sort of orange flavored drink in my hair. For revenge, I dumped a strawberry flavored drink, a sweet red liquid that looked like blood, into your silver locks. And trust me Victor, I never wanted to see that sweet red liquid to turned into actual blood. I want it to stay sweet, so we can chase each other after that and then wash each other hair while laughing.

Do you remember our second dance, Victor? The one that we did under the influence of alcohol during one of the frat party?

I never liked party, but you were the one who asked me to be your partner. And I couldn’t say no. My mood was kinda high and cheerful that day, so why not? Maybe I needed some dose of partying, a bit of recklessnees and having fun while we were still young. We drunk, we danced, we laughed like we had no tomorrow. We had a lot of fun, we kissed for the first time, we lingered on the sweet, slow feeling that burned so bright. I woke up in your arm the morning after, stealing another kiss from you, and you tighten your arm that hugged me close to your body. You whispered, “Stay close to me, Yuuri. Let’s make this lasts forever.” I laughed in response, I never realized the true meaning behind your word, I never knew that you were unconsciously confessed to me. I brushed off the feeling, choosing to snuggle closer instead, peppering your jawline with kissed, and not answering back. I was afraid, too afraid if what we had that day turned out to be a casual flirting only, something that spiralling from the heat and excitement of the party. I’m wrong.

And Victor, do you remember our last conversation before you left for St. Petersburg? Do you still remember the kiss that you gave me right before you got into the taxi?

Because I do, Victor, I remember everything that you said that day. I remember my own cowardness, I remember all the unsaid words that I should’ve said. I should’ve hugged you so tight that day, I should’ve kissed you back instead of stuttering and overthinking. You promised that you would get back soon, that you had some surprised for me later. But you never fulfilled your promise, you never got a chance to hear my answer and my feeling. And I was angry, so angry with myself, because I made you wait for so long. I couldn’t make you happy. I let you down. I’m sorry for that, and please do know that I never been angry at you. It’s okay if you couldn’t fulfill your promise, because I’ll be the one who reach out for you instead.

There were so many memories, many things between us, that I want to write here. Small things, big things; important things, unimportant things. But again, I’m sorry because I could only write these much. I’m sorry that we ran out of time, I’m sorry that I couldn’t offer you happiness on this world.

I know I shouldn’t ask for this, but if you don’t mind, will you wait for me up there? Maybe it’s not now, maybe it won’t be soon, or maybe it will happen tomorrow. But that day will come, and when it comes to me, I’ll join you up there and I’ll find you again. I’ll confess first, and then we can have another start to build a proper relationship. It’s late, but it’s better than never right?

So, will you wait for me, Victor?










Yuuri took a deep breath, pouring all of his love and pain, then put his letter on the blue mailbox.

To: Victor Nikiforov

I hoped my feeling was enough to reach you.







Yuuri woke up three days later, yawning and putting on his glasses, then blinked at white lilies that were placed on top of his desk. His heart immediately jumped, tears welled up on his eyes, while he tried to read the note that came along with the flowers.

The note was short and simple, but Yuuri wouldn’t mistake Victor’s handwriting.

Of course I’ll wait for you, lyubov moya.





(1) A first non K-Pop related fic to be published here, yeay!

(2) Also posted on my ao3 account, but I wanna republished it here since I love this piece so much. Idk I just feel really satisfied when I finished write this one lol.

(3) Loosely inspired by my own bittersweet nightmare ._.


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