Viktor Nikiforov watched apprehensively as Michele Crispino and Emil Nekola, two men he had met in a bar in Southampton and began to gamble with, shuffled their cards, Michele glaring at Emil. "1. È fottuto idiota, si scommette i nostri biglietti dannati Dio." He grumbled, Emil smiling sheepishly at the angry Italian man. "2. Jejda." "Viktor, we bet the last of our money." Viktor's friend, Christophe Giacometti, said worriedly. "Ah, my friend," Viktor grinned, him wrapping his arm around his shoulder, pulling him close. "When you have nothing, you have nothing to lose." He winked. "That's absolutely not true." Chris said, pursing his lips a bit. He had learned long ago not to question his friend, but if he lost, they would both be going hungry that night. They all got their cards together, Viktor letting a breath out. "Alright, moment of truth. Chris, what do you have?" He stared straight into his eyes and laid his cards down, having a completely useless hand. "3. Nichts?" "Nichts." Chris grumbled, looking quite displeased at the ever enthusiastic Viktor. "Emil?" Emil laid down another useless hand, though Michele smirked and laid down his cards; two pair, a rather high hand. Viktor's face seemed to fall a bit, him looking to Chris and shaking his head. "I'm sorry Chris." "4. Was 'sorry', verdammte Schweinehund- You bet all our money-" "I'm sorry!" Viktor interrupted, a grin splitting his face. "You're not going to see your mother again for a long time. Cause we're going to America- Full house, boys!" He slammed his cards down, the winning hand being shown to the Italian and Czech men across from them. Christophe's eyes widened and he grinned, picking up the tickets and happily celebrating. Michele looked completely perplexed at them for a moment before, standing and grabbing Viktor's collar, holding his fist back to punch him. He cursed under his breath and glared at him before moving and punching Emil, making him fall from his chair, the whole bar going up in a happy uproar seeing Michele jump on him. Viktor grinned and grabbed the money, stuffing his pockets with the coins and bills. "Viktor, we're going to America!" Christophe grinned, hugging his friend, absolutely giddy at the opportunity to go to America. "Nah, mate. Titanic is going to America. In five minutes." They looked up at the clock, it reading 11:55 when the departure for the Titanic was at noon. As Michele still yelled and Emil grinned and tried to calm him, they scooped the rest of their money off of the table and grabbed their rucksacks and dashed for the ship that was going to be departing in only five more minutes.

     Yuuri Katsuki stepped out of the buggy him and his fiancee and him and ridden to the port in, him stepping out and helping his mother out first before helping out his fiancee, Jean Jacqueline Leroy, daughter of a wealthy businessman. Their marriage wasn't for love, which was quite obvious, it was for money. Yuuri, by no means, was a gold digger, but it was what he had to do to keep his family afloat. After his father had passed away, their frivolous lifestyle in Japan soon grew too expensive for them. Not wanting his dear mother to end up in a seamstress factory, Yuuri began looking for fiancee's, finding one in a rich mans daughter. It wasn't like Yuuri would have grown to love her after years passed anyways, his tastes were never for women. He liked someone once when he was younger, but she was like a sister to him; And before he knew it, she went and got married and had three children her first time. She already had a family, so the one female he would consider marrying was already taken. Yuuri settled for the boisterous young woman most referred to as 'JJ'. She, by no means, was a bad person, she was just very much not what Yuuri wanted. Not even her personality. She was big and brass and loud, while Yuuri was quite and subtle and shy. It was difficult to be with her for long without getting overwhelmed. Yuuri shielded his eyes with his hand, looking up at the ship and commenting, "I don't get what all the fuss is about. It doesn't look any bigger than the Mauritania." JJ laughed and grinned at him. "You're so blasé, Yuuri! This is much bigger and better than the Mauritania!" Yuuri smiled weakly. "Ha ha, right..." He sighed and offered his elbow as they headed into the ship, walking up the wooden platform and into the gorgeous ship. To any other passenger, it must have seemed like stepping into heaven itself, with both the luxury of the ship and the opportunity to go to America. To him, it was nothing more but a solidification of the commitment he had made to go to America and marry this woman, the terrifying last step that he couldn't go back on. He stepped into the ship, him moving forward to lead his mother and his fiancee to the suite they would share.

     "Here, this one too." Yuuri handed a painting to one of the servants who was helping set up the room to their liking. "I'd like to hang all them up." He said, JJ coming in from the other room and leaning against the door. "Those finger paintings were certainly a waste of money." Yuuri turned and gave her a look before continuing to help the servant pull paintings from a pile, him picking out his favourites to hang. "The difference between my taste in art and Jacqueline's is that I have one." He commented, holding up one he had particularly liked, looking it over again. "They're fascinating, like being in a dream." He said, the servant coming over and taking it from him to hang up. "What's the artists name, sir?" "Picasso something. I don't remember his first name. He was from Spain, I think." "Picasso something." JJ commented cheekily. "He won't amount to a thing, I assure you." Yuuri gave her another look, fixing his glasses as he turned and went to help the servants hang the paintings.

     Viktor and Christophe dashed through the crowd of people waiting to watch the Titanic depart, both young men wearing huge grins on their face. "We're going to be riding in style tonight, my friend! We're practically God damned royalty!" Viktor laughed, hitting Christophe's chest as they ran through the crowd, Viktor faster than Christophe. "Come on, I thought you said you were fast!" They got to the wooden platform just as it was being rolled back, Viktor hopping on it with Christophe right on his tail. "Hold on, hold on! We're passengers!" He stopped in front of the worker about to close the door, holding out his tickets. The man took them and inspected them closely before asking. "Have you been through the inspection queue?" "Oh course. Anyways, neither of us have lice, we're Americans. Both of us." He gave the strange silver haired man one more look over before nodding and helping them aboard.

     Once in the hall, Viktor grinned and wrapped his arm around Christophe, giving him a good natured kiss on his cheek, laughing happily. "We're the luckiest sons-of-bitches alive, you know that?!" They headed up to the main deck where everyone was waving goodbye to their friends and family from the rails. Viktor ran to it, stepping up and waving to the large crowd. "Goodbye!" "Do you know someone?" Christophe asked, leaning over and waving anyways. "That's not the point!" Deciding to go along with his antics, Christophe smiled and leaned over, waving and blowing kisses to the crowd. "5. Ciao, auf wiedersehen! I'll never forget you!" He said, laughing as he saw Michele and Emil watching from below, Michele with a huge pout on his face. "6. Enjoy America, cazzo culo!" He yelled, only making Viktor and Christophe laugh more.

     The next afternoon, they were out at sea, Captain Leo de la Iglesia grinning as he watched the ship he was manning head out to sea. "Ah, nothing more lovely than an open sea and a ship, is there?" Guang-Hong Ji, the ships creator, nodded and smiled, leaning against the railing as he stood beside him. "It is a beauty, isn't it?" "Certainly." Leo smiled, looking down at the smaller man, causing Guang-Hong to look away with pink cheeks.

     Just below them, Viktor and Christophe went to the front of the boat, Viktor hopping to the very front, looking over and smiling, tugging on Christophe's jacket. "Look down there, dolphins!" He said, watching as they raced in front of the ship. "So beautiful. I can see the Statue of Liberty from here. Very small, but still." Christophe said, Viktor grinning and laughing at that, standing up and holding his arms out, cheering. "I'm the king of the world!" Christophe chuckled and tugged on the suspenders he wore. "You're embarrassing, that's what you are!"

     "She is the largest moving object known to man. Designed from the keel plates up by Mr. Ji here." Yakov Feltsmen, a reporter from Russia who was commissioned to write a piece about the Titanic, commented, the topic of the building of the Titanic having been brought up curiously by Yuuri. "Thank you for your praise, Mr. Feltsmen." Guang-Hong smiled, looking as the waiters came around to take everyone at the tables orders. "We'll have the spring lamb, rare, very little mince sauce, and Earl Grey tea, thank you." JJ said before looking to her fiance. "You like lamb, don't you?" She asked after the man had already left. Yuuri took in a frustrated sigh, though smiled at her regardless. Phichit, a young Thai man coming to America to join his wife, smiled in pity at Yuuri. "You going to cut his meat for him too, Jacqueline?" He said with a shady smile, JJ's smile dropping a little and Yuuri's smile widening as he exchanged a glance with Phichit. "So, who came up with the name 'Titanic'? Was it you, Mr. Ji?" He asked. "Oh, actually, that was Mr. Feltsmen's idea. He said that it was based off of the Greek monsters, Titans, right?" Yakov nodded and huffed. "Have you ever heard of Dr. Freud, Mr. Feltsmen? His work on the male preoccupation with size might be of interest to you." Both Phichit and Guang-Hong laughed gently, while everyone else at the table either didn't understand or didn't care for his joke. "What's gotten into you?" JJ said under her breath. "Excuse me." Yuuri stood, leaving the room and heading out to the balcony. "He's real smart, JJ. Hope you can handle him." "I might have to start minding what he reads, won't I Mr. Chulanont?" She asked, standing to go follow him.

     Viktor stared intently at an older man and his daughter, going back and forth between his sketchbook and the people he was drawing in it. Christophe sat beside him, speaking to another Russian man while Viktor was preoccupied. "This ship, it's very nice." "Yeah, a proper Irish built one too." Christophe tilted his head a bit at that. "It's English isn't it?" "No, it was built in Ireland, 15,000 Irishmen worked on this thing." He said, glancing over as he saw some high class men passing them to walk their dogs, his eyes following them as they walked around the corner. "Typical. First class dogs come down here to shit." He cursed, taking another drag of his cigarette. "Lets us know where we rank in the scheme of things." Viktor commented with a grin, looking away from his pad and the family to attempt to engage in conversation, having finished his drawing. "Like we could forget?" The man joked before reaching over and offering his hand to the vagabond artist. "I'm Georgi Popovich." "Viktor Nikiforov." "Chris." They all introduced, Georgi gesturing to the sketchbook resting on Viktor's lap. "You make any money off of those things?" Just as he was about to answer, Viktor glanced up at the balcony, seeing a beautiful, if not frustrated Asian man coming to lean against the railing with a soft sigh. His eyes widened and mouth went agape, him staring as if he had seen an angel, because Viktor was sure that he had. Georgi gave a questioning look to Christophe, he nodded to let the other man know that he wasn't staring for no reason. Viktor looked at the beautiful boy, Yuuri glancing down at him before back up, then back down for a moment, them sharing a look. "Stop looking, Viktor. You've got better chances of having angels fly out of your ass than landing a boy like that. Love is a hoax, trust me." He said, pain in his voice. Still, he stared, Christophe laughing as he waved his hands in front of his face, getting no reaction from Viktor. "Don't try to stop him. He's a hopeless romantic, a player known in Russia, Germany, France, Spain. Once he has his eye on someone, no use trying to talk him out of it." Christophe grinned. Yuuri kept eye contact with him for a moment, turning when he felt his fiancee tug on his arm. It looked like they fought for a moment before he went back in, the black haired woman sighing and following him in. "7. красивая..." Viktor murmured.

     Yuuri sat at the dinner table with his mother, fiancee, and a few other people of their class, him staring blankly at the food before him. He suddenly felt overwhelmed, a panic sweeping over him. He felt as though he had no control of his life, which he really didn't have much of. He was stuck in a situation he hated that would make him miserable for the rest of his life, but yet had to go through with it, having no way out. "Excuse me." He murmured quietly, standing and hurrying out of the dinning room.

     Tears blurred his eyes as Yuuri ran through the halls of the ship, barely noticing as he knocked into people left and right. His brain was in a tizzy, him barely able to breathe, to think. He barely knew that he was running. He ran past a bench, running to the end of the ship until he ran into the railing, watching as his bowler hat flew off and fell into the sea. His teary brown eyes followed it, him suddenly getting an idea. If he killed himself, then and there, his mother, still being connected to the Leroy family, would still get some money, at least enough to take care of herself enough to not have to work in a sweat shop. Yuuri leaned over and looked into the swirling black water, him having to look back up to avoid getting dizzy as he climbed over. He took off his waistcoat, laying it on the deck, the edge of it hanging over the bottom rung of the railing. He turned around, heels back and hands tightly gripping the railing as he looked out onto the dark horizon, his mind still racing. What should his last words be? What would he think of before he died? Would it hurt, would it be fast? There was only one way of knowing. He leaned over a bit, letting his fingers loosen around the railings.

      Viktor hadn't been trying to do anything, him simply enjoying his cigarette as he laid on a bench by the end of the boat, him staring up at the beautiful starry sky. When he heard footsteps racing towards, then past him, he sat up just in time to see the beautiful man from earlier, though this time he was crying as he ran past him. Viktor wasn't sure why, but something inside of him screamed to follow him, so he pulled his coat back on and flicked his cigarette into the ocean, following the man from before to the end of before. He was expecting the man to be sitting on one of the bench chairs and crying, certainly not expecting him to be over the railing, fingers loosening on the railing as he leaned forward. Viktor's heart hiccuped and there was only one logical thing to say.

      "Don't do it."

__________________________

1. You fucking idiot, you bet our God damned tickets. (Italian)

2. Whoops. (Czech)

3. Nothing? Nothing. (German)

4. What 'sorry', damned pig dog- (German)

5. Bye (Italian), farewell (German)!

6. Enjoy America, fucking ass! (Italian)

7. Beautiful... (Russian)