It was supposed to be his year. He was supposed to-
Celestino stops talking and squeezes his shoulder. Yuuri looks up at him, opens his mouth to say something when someone says his name.
He freezes, holds his breath for a full second against the painfully familiar voice, not daring to hope. Then, very slowly, he turns towards the source, eyes going wide with disbelieve.
(Or: in which Vicchan lives, Yuuri doesn't quite fail and doesn't quite get drunk, but manages to accidentally woo Victor Nikiforov anyway.)
Bookmarked by thetinypuppy
9 Jul 2017
“This is Vicchan! He can do a quad flip too, do you wanna see?” Yuuri had cooed happily as soon as they were in his room, holding up a yipping miniature version of Makkachin.
And now they’re lying on the tiny balcony that Yuuri’s room has access to, the sliding doors closed behind them as Yuuri sits on the floor and leans back against them. Victor is laying down, with his head on Yuuri’s lap, and Yuuri’s fingers in his hair. Like this he has to bend his legs because the balcony really isn’t that big, but he has a dog asleep on his stomach and a beautiful boy smiling down at him and telling him secrets while he pets Victor like he’s something precious and fragile and real.