Chapter Text
Ekaterina Ana-Maria Abelashvili or “Ketty” as most people knew her as was a mess of a person. At 22 she had gotten pregnant. At 25 she was dying. By 26 she would be six feet under. She didn’t care about those last two things. They didn’t scare her.
Asking the father of her daughter for help was scary. Telling the father of her daughter he had a daughter was scary. Ketty almost wishes her death would come faster, but before she could rest her weary head she had to make sure that someone would love her daughter for her. Ketty knew first hand how painful it was to lose the love of one’s parents. She didn’t want her daughter to ever experience that.
Ketty tells herself that she should just tell him, but she’s afraid of putting that sort of responsibility on Yuuri. Yuuri has always been an anxious mess—Ketty knows this from experience and from Cami’s non-stop complaints after Yuuri had snubbed her. (Cami was a friend of a friend and while Ketty had liked the girl well enough, she had also felt uncomfortable with the girl’s forwardness. Ketty didn’t suffer from the same kind of anxiety Yuuri did, but they had similar feelings about social interactions. And well, Ketty had suggested on multiple occasions that Cami shouldn’t push Yuuri too hard, but when Cami set her mind on something she didn’t back down).
Ketty had thought about telling Yuuri after Phichit contacted her out of the blue, asking if she would be willing to help Yuuri redo the demo she had made from him all those years ago. She had replied with an immediate and enthused yes because really, that thing was not her best work and she felt like she had failed Yuuri in someway. He had tried to make it up to her when it was rejected but they were a pair of socially awkward, introverted artists that had the bad habit of overthinking everything. Remembering that cringe-worthy interaction, Ketty didn’t think it would be a good idea to open up with: “Hi Yuuri, you remember that night where we were both kinda drunk and came to the conclusion that we should lose our virginity together? (I admit, not our smartest decision.) Well, surprise, here’s your daughter! She just turned three!”
Oh god, she was the worst. How would Yuuri react to that? Did it even matter if Yuuri knew or not? It wasn’t like she was going to--Ketty drops her head into her hands. Right. Life sucked.
“Mama?”
Ketty tries her hardest to hold back her tears. “Yeah, baby girl?” She replies, raising her head to look at her daughter. It always startled her just how much Yuuri there was reflected in that little body and how little of her she saw in those large brown eyes.
“Can we watch Daddy on the televee?”
Ketty laughs and pulls her daughter close. “Of course. Let’s cheer for him when he competes tomorrow too!” Tomorrow she will tell Yuuri. She’s not exactly sure how she’s going to do it, but she’s going to do it. She needs to do it.
—
Telling Yuuri is just as awkward and as cringeworthy as Ketty expects it to be. She spends a good twenty to thirty minutes just apologizing, trying to convince Yuuri (and herself) that she wasn’t expecting anything from him. They get into a ridiculous argument and even though Ketty knows she’s just sabotaging herself at this point, she can’t stop. And now she’s apologizing (again) for ruining Yuuri’s Grand Prix finale with something as insignificant as Ketty’s anxiety about her future and the future of her daughter.
“Ketty, let me come meet you.” Yuuri insists. He’s obviously annoyed and Ketty wishes she could just run away from this conversation. She’s pretty sure Yuuri wants to do the same.
“But — ”
“It’ll be easier to talk about this in person.” Yuuri doesn’t leave much room for argument, but, really, Ketty doesn’t know if she’s mentally or emotionally prepared enough for this. “Ketty, I want to meet her.” Yuuri says gently.
Ketty can tell that Yuuri is genuinely interested in their daughter. She knows that Yuuri has a very high sense of responsibility. She knows how kind Yuuri is. This doesn’t stop her from questioning his motives. It doesn’t stop her from questioning hers either.
She takes a deep breath. “Okay.” She agrees. “Okay. Tell me when.”
—
Hi Yuuri, this is Vivi--I mean Maria-Victoria. I named her after my grandmother. BTW I’m also dying, so like, will you take care of her when I’m gone? Ketty thinks it’s a bit much. Maybe she’ll take out the dying part. Ketty has already accepted it. She hadn’t really thought about living past twenty before (she was pretty morbid as a kid and always believed she would die at the ripe old age of twenty-one, but Yuuri didn’t need that information), yet here she was at twenty-five. She’d be gone soon though, so maybe her childhood self was right in some aspects.
Okay, that was a bad train of thought.
“Ketty?”
Ketty jumps when she hears her name—she has not sufficiently prepared herself for this moment. But Vivi shoots passed her screaming “Daddy!” before Ketty can even turn and respond. In hindsight, she should have probably warned Yuuri about that—the screaming and full-body tackling—because Yuuri is now sprawled out on the concrete short of breath, with the full weight of an overly excited three year old on his chest.
“I am so sorry, Yuuri! Vivi! You can’t just tackle people like that!” Ketty scolds, lifting Vivi off Yuuri. She helps him up.
“But he’s not people. He’s my daddy!” Vivi argues, squirming her way out of Ketty’s arms. She latches onto Yuuri’s leg.
“Um, right.” How to respond? Ketty’s too overwhelmed to think properly.
Yuuri just laughs and ruffles Vivi’s hair affectionately. Ketty feels her heart squeeze uncomfortably in her chest.
“Hi, Vivi, it’s nice to finally meet you.” He says. Vivi looks up at him with glowing eyes. Ketty’s pretty sure if Vivi smiles any wider her face might split.
“Yes,” Vivi whispers. “I finally have a daddy!” She squeals. “Yay!” Ketty doesn’t think she’ll be able unlatch Vivi from Yuuri’s leg.
“Um, you know, Vivi, I think Daddy would love it if you could find him one of those nice rocks you always give Mommy. Why don’t you see if you can find some in the playground?” Ketty suggests.
Vivi’s swivels her head to look at Yuuri. “Daddy, do you like rocks?” She asks.
“Uh, yes?” Yuuri answers. Vivi immediately lets go and darts off.
“I’ll find you the best rock ever!” She yells, diving into the grass.
Ketty knows that they’ll probably have five minutes at most before Vivi charges back in so she immediately blurts out everything she needs Yuuri to know. It doesn’t go exactly like how Ketty practiced, but at least she managed not to bite her tongue.
Yuuri’s expression shifts from shocked and surprised to worried.
Oh fuck, Ketty! You weren’t supposed to open with the “I’m dying!” Ketty mentally slaps herself.
“How long have you known?” Yuuri asks her.
Ketty bites her bottom lip as she answers. “A little over half a year,” She admits.
“You should have told me before—about Vivi, about…” Yuuri trails off.
“I know.” Ketty replies. “I just, I didn’t want you--I didn’t know...I thought I could do this on my own.” Ketty knows that Yuuri understands (they are cut from the same cloth after all), so she’s relieved that Yuuri chooses not to press her on this.
“Does Vivi know? Have you talked to her about it?”
“Yes. Whether she understands or not...My treatment is going well so I have at least a year on me...”
“Mommy! Daddy! Look at all these rocks!” Vivi squeezes between them, pebbles tumbling from her hands. She holds them up for Yuuri, who accepts them with a smile.
Ketty feels hot tears welling in her eyes, but holds them back. All in all their first meeting goes well.
—
The next time they meet Yuuri brings Viktor. The Russian is as handsome and as charismatic as Ketty expects. She nearly faints when Viktor greets her with a kiss on the hand. Vivi falls in love with him immediately. She tells everyone at the playground how she has not one but two daddies. She declares it the best day ever.
“Planning your own funeral is ridiculously difficult.” Ketty blurts out. “Why is it so expensive? Why are there packaged bundles? Buy a casket and get thirty-percent off your plot?” She’s joking. It’s morbid and dark, but Ketty doesn’t know how else to face it.
Yuuri understands though, because Ketty can tell that he is holding back his laughter when she shows him the funeral home website. “Ketty, that's a bit much.”
“Sorry, I got distracted. What was I doing?”
Yuuri wants to help. Ketty doesn’t want him to. She doesn’t want to pull him away from his career, from his life. She doesn’t want him to drop everything for her; she just needs to know that Vivi will be taken care of when she’s gone. But Yuuri doesn’t want that. He wants to be there for her, for Vivi.
"Viktor and I want to help you every step of the way. So please, Ketty, let us do this.”
“I'm afraid that things will get ugly towards the end, I don't want to burden you like that.”
In the end, Yuuri’s stubbornness wins out. That and Ketty is now formally hospitalized long-term so she really can’t argue with him about whether or not she needs his help. She needs his help.
Ketty relinquishes the lease on her small one bedroom apartment. She helps move Vivi in with Yuuri and Viktor. She cries for a good three hours in the bathroom while Viktor distracts Vivi with a trip to get ice cream and Yuuri comforts her by leaving her alone to wallow in her despair (he sits by the bathroom door until Ketty finally feels better).
Ketty sells her piano, because she needs the money but keeps her violin to give to her daughter. She writes letters and records videos and tries to finish her compositions before her body truly fails her.
Yuuri attends every chemo-session, every doctor appointment. He stays with her in the hospital when he can even though Ketty insists she’s fine. Viktor keeps her updated on Vivi’s daily life through photos and videos (because Yuuri is terrible at things like that). All in all, Ketty thinks she’s pretty lucky. So what if her parents disinherited her after catching her canoodling with a girl? Her grandmother had welcomed her into her home in a heartbeat and loved her unconditionally. So what if she was dying? At least she wasn’t alone. Her life was pretty satisfying considering she was only twenty-five.
The piece she crafted for Yuuri had sparked interest in her work. Her compositions weren’t rotting away in her desk and she had been asked for some new pieces. It was difficult balancing all that with everything else going on in her life, but she was managing it (even if it was through sheer force of will at this point). Ketty is thankful for the work Yuuri brought her because at least now she has some way of providing for her daughter even after she has gone.
Vivi visits her twice a week, though towards the end she comes everyday. Somehow Ketty manages to see her daughter turn four. They have a birthday party in the hospital. Ketty is so happy and so grateful to witness this moment. Vivi is four years old and looks more and more like Yuuri with each passing year, but now Ketty can see a little of herself in Vivi’s caramel eyes. She sees a little of herself in the way Vivi thinks.
Ketty was by no means a perfect mother but she did her best. She hopes that Vivi will remember her as a good mother. She hopes that Yuuri will remember her as a dear friend. She hopes that Viktor will continue loving Vivi and Yuuri with all his heart.
Ketty passes away in the summer, just shy of her 27th birthday. She’s alone when she goes, but that’s how she always imagined it so it doesn’t bother her. She’s glad, because she’s not sure if she can handle the awkwardness of people waiting in the room while she dies.
Her funeral is small and simple.
Vivi cries, because even though she grasps the concept of death, she doesn’t quite understand it. Yuuri cries, because he doesn’t know how else to express his grief. Even Viktor cries. He’s only known Ketty for a little over a year, but that doesn’t stop him from mourning the loss of a good person.
Ekaterina Ana-Maria Abelashvili or “Ketty” as most people knew her as was a mess of a person. At 22 she had gotten pregnant. At 25 she was dying. At 26 she is six feet under. And really, those last two things weren’t scary at all, because her daughter would never have to question whether or not her parents loved her.