"You what?" Yuri slams down the disgusting yellow pamphlet on kitchen counter top — the letters spell out 'Controlling Anger Before It Controls You' in colorful, bold Calibri, 36-point font size, yet the said teen only feels dread. “You can’t fucking enroll me! You literally aren't my parent so stop acting like one! And if you happen to respect me as human, as small as it would be, just leave me alone in here in my dirty, messy, fatherless home, thank you very much!”
“I knew this would be your reaction,” Viktor says, sighing, “but believe me, Yuri, it's not me, this is what your Mama wants —"
"I bet it's you who gives her damn weird ideas. She's not always at home to really know me to begin with."
"But she's your Mama. And she's a single parent. And yet, she's also a working woman. Even if her payment is not as much as what you gain from winning during figure skating, she loves you. She wants the best for you."
"And by best she meant by enroll me to an anger management program? No, Viktor. Both of you are wrong. I've been fine all this time. My debut was glorious. Second place on my first try! I'm so sure next year I'll kick your ass and get the gold."
“And this is precisely the reason why we're enrolling you. You have the perfect mentality as an athlete if you didn’t have anger issues.”
“I don't have anger issues!” Yuri explodes, accidentally crushing the innocent pamphlet in his hands. There is a brief pause between the two. “I do not have anger issues.” He coughs into his fist, his cheeks pink.
Viktor reaches for the beaten pamphlet, crumples it, and throws it into a small trash bin next to the counter. "It's not as bad as it says, Yura, and it's off season now, why not use it to the fullest? What so bad about having more control? About being calmer? Look at Otabek. You think he's cool, right? Do you want to be like him?"
'That's playing dirty, Viktor,' Yuri chides the older man in his mind.
Yuri is done with Viktor's shit. Everyone knows Viktor is as stubborn as him. He knows best it's like talking to a mule. So Yuri snatches up his backpack where his skates are secured. He's basically just got back from practice, but going back to the ice sounds like a very much welcomed idea. After all, skating calms him. (Eat that Viktor! Who says he doesn't know a way to calm himself!) As he makes his way towards the door, he hears Viktor calling him to wait. Ignoring him, Yuri keeps walking ahead, and as he pulls the door he almost runs into a starry night.
"Oh," the stranger gasps, taking a small step back, "uh, hello?"
Yuri still sees stars in gold specks swimming in twin brown pools, which is very absurd since it's barely past midday. It took him a moment to realize that he was looking into someone’s eyes.
"Ah, Yuuri-sensei!" Viktor is a barely recognizable blur to the blond, skipping past him and reaching for the door handle for the stranger — breaking Yuri’s grip in the process. Yuri's hand, which had lost its support, falls limply on his side.
"Come in, come in," Viktor says chirpy, "and by the way you look handsome today as well. But may I ask, where are your cute glasses?"
Yuri's jaw hangs wide open. Did he hear that right? Did he just hear Viktor flirt?
And he thought Viktor had a thing for his Mama?!
The stranger ducks his head, the jet black hair falling into his face, saving him from Yuri’s view. But Yuri still catches the pale pink spreads on the stranger's cheeks. Yuri suddenly realizes he's been blocking the stranger's way unintentionally, so he shifts a little, stiffly and awkward, eyes still locked on the stranger's face.
"I'm afraid I left them at my friend’s place. Actually, I'm going to his house after this," he answers as he excuses himself to come in.
Three words to describe the stranger pop into Yuri’s head. Japanese. Meek. Cute.
"Oh! Now that you mention it, are you here to meet Yuri? Ah, that sounds confusing, well Yuri you're Yura from now on," Viktor's head beckons to his direction without truly looking at him, "and by the way let me introduce you, Yuuri, this is Yuri Plisetsky. You can call him Yura. And Yura, this is Yuuri Katsuki. He's supposed to be your consultant, though."
"Oh, so he's refusing? I know you did warn me Viktor but..." he asks. A crease mars his brows. He looks slightly down and no one's supposed to look so genuinely upset, for Christ sake, not to a person he just met. His gaze shifts and their eyes met fleetingly. Yuri frowns. The magic has disappeared. His eyes don't hold something special like stars and swarovski crystals Yuri thought he saw a few seconds ago. They're just plain brown.
The brown eyed man sends him an understanding smile. "It's okay. We're going to welcome you anytime when you need us. Anytime; it's nice to meet you," he says, ducking his head.
Yuri somehow felt left out. "Are you talking about the program?"
Both older men nodded.
"I don't have anger issues," Yuri states grumpily, "but you do meditation with people right?" he continues, remembering the small text below the colorful Calibri 36-point font size letters. "And normal people do meditation sometimes so I think I would like to have that instead?"
Yuri glances at Viktor. He doesn't need to ask permission, he knows that, but sometimes what Viktor hears and sees equal to what his Mama hears and sees. Viktor opens his mouth like he's about to say something, but he wisely keeps his mouth shut in the end. Viktor turns his attention to the Japanese man, urging him to make the final decision.
"Sure," Yuuri smiles. Even his smile is cute. "We can always meet on Sundays —"
Only Sundays? Damn. He lifts an eyebrow when the two adults look at him with weird expressions only to realize he said it out.
"Yura? Are you okay?" Viktor asks, concerned.
"Fucking peachy," he shoves his hands in his pockets, straightens his back and turns his head to hide his pinkish face. That was so lame. Yuuri... that was his name right? He probably thinks he's uncool. Thinking like this left a bitter taste on his tongue. Well, he didn't know why it did. Yuri probably wants to look cool, to impress the cute Japanese Yuuri. That would be nice right? To make people impressed. After all, figure skaters are born to impress people. Out of the the corner of his eye, he sees Viktor puts his hands in akimbo, eyes baffled before turning accusing. Yuri blinks at him, giving him a stare that says 'what?'
"Well, if you're eager then we can ...talk maybe? We can talk about anything, how that sounds? Oh, and I can do private tutoring for below undergraduates."
"Sure. Sounds good. All of them sounds good," Yuri says with arms crossed on his chest. He hears Viktor choke on his own spit.
"Wait, Y-Yura? I thought you're—ouch!"
Yuri 'accidentally' steps on Viktor's poor foot. He draws Yuuri's attention to himself before the man catches on to what is going on.
"Katsuki," Yuri tests the name around his tongue, "so when I can see you again?"
That's maybe a little too forward but at least Yuuri, God bless him, doesn't judge him. "We can talk about it later. You still have the pamphlet? There's my number just on the right, on the bottom." Yuuri doesn't need to know about the fate of the poor pamphlet, so he only nods his head.
"And, meditation starts on tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" Yuri feels butterflies fluttering pleasantly in his stomach, "Sounds good."
"That's good to hear. I excuse myself then, Mr. Plisetsky. See you soon," He ducks his head. Japanese thing, it seems. He waves his hand before he exists through the door. As Yuri turns, he expects Viktor to bomb him with questions, so he isn't surprised the man looks at him with narrow eyes.
"...I thought your grades were perfect? Why you need a tutor?"
"Not only dumb people can have a private tutor," Yuri shrugs easily.
"Okay then," Viktor takes a deep breath, "let's be honest, Yuri, you're not plotting murder, are you?"
Yuri shakes his head, baffled. "What?! Of course not, dumbass! What makes you think so?"
"You didn't act like yourself just now. And," Viktor points at the corner of his lips, "you had this weird smile when you were talking to Yuuri. Honestly, I'm worried. It looked like you have evil ideas —"
"I did not!"
"—in your mind. And lastly," Viktor's facial changes and Yuri's personal alarm buzzed when he recognized it as Viktor's 'Daddy-is-so-proud-of-you' expression, "it was the longest record time you talked to human being without screaming at their face." Yuri is too late to avoid Viktor's hug; the man can be quick when he wants to be. So he just stands here, hugged, stiff like lead, clumsy, clueless, and annoyed because he's not some huggable stuffed animal.
"Yura, Yuuri probably is what you really need!"
Meditation is boring. It's basically filled with the elderly. Two out of three people here fell into the category. And most of all, Yuuri's not here. So it's out.
Yuri pulls his smartphone out. He types, 'Meditation is so damn boring. I quit, old man' and taps the send button to deliver it to Viktor. Except, it isn't sent to him but to fucking Yuuri Katsuki. The Japanese, meek, cute Yuuri Katsuki, whose number he was willing to go as far as dig into his trashbin yesterday and retrieve the horribly crumpled pamphlet for.
His attempt at not shrieking and cursing like a mad man in public space was worth a medal, really.
Yuri waits, waits, waits and waits. But no reply. No blue ticks. So Yuuri has not yet read it. But it's only matter of time. If only he could cancel the sent message... Yuri's imagination runs wild. He pictures himself stealthily slipping through a window to snatch Yuuri's phone where it lays on a desk. Then he somehow would manage to find out the passcode. He’d swipe and swipe and swipe until he finds his message and deletes it. But suddenly Yuri realizes he doesn't know where Yuuri lives, so he can only console himself by biting his nails.
When Yuri's back to his quiet, lonesome house after spending some time at the rink, his phone vibrates.
[Yuuri] 'Sorry for the late reply, I was in library preparing for exam. That's ok.'
So it's an okay huh...?
[Yuri] 'Sorry, didn't mean to send it to u. It was for Viktor'
[Yuuri] 'I see'
[Yuri] 'R u free right now?'
[Yuri] 'Ur a student?'
[Yuuri] 'Y. I'm in my last year'
[Yuri] 'What major'
[Yuri] 'That's pretty cool'
[Yuuri] 'Thanks ;)'
Yuri's eyes nearly bulge out. Did... did Yuuri just wink at him?
[Yuri] 'Is that a wink?'
[Yuuri] 'N. Why?'
[Yuuri] 'Omg. I'm sorry. I meant a smile. Here's a smile :)'
Yuri lets out a bark of a laugh. He admits it to himself that it sounds weird, probably a little terrifying. But it's so rare for him to feel so... so... light.
[Yuri] 'That was so dumb of you' he sends.
Yuri pauses. Wait, wasn't that sound too... well, something shouldn't be said to a person he just met? Too late, he sees the ticks turn blue. On the screen the text says that Yuuri is typing in reply to his harsh, unthinking outburst...
[Yuuri] 'Ikr? I don't usually send smileys. Tbh I felt silly lol'
Yuri spends more time reading it than he was supposed to, blinking at his smartphone screen.
Yuuri is... too pure for this world.
Yuri throws his back on the mattress. His body bounces. His blond fringe is sticky with sweat and feels disgusting from skating in a public ice rink, splayed messily on his face and making the right side of his vision barely visible. He spreads his arms. Eyes glued to ceiling...
He feels like floating.
The days he spends with Yuuri makes him get to know Yuuri more and more. Yuuri isn't just a friend that is fun to talk to. He isn't just a patient tutor even when Yuri is asking something not relatable to their discussion. He isn't just a great cook when Yuri’s mother returns home too late to cook a dinner.
From three days, it turns into six, then eight, twelve, twenty etcetera.
There are so many words and phrases to describe Yuuri.
Japanese. Meek. Cute. Quiet. Kind. Patient. Glasses boy. Great cook. Pure. Soft-talker. Easily embarrassed. He can be stubborn when he wants to be. Competitive. Animal lover. Quite good with his cat. Loves Japanese food called Katsudon. He sometimes misses his home, misses his Mom, misses his Dad, misses his sister, misses his poodle, misses everyone in his sleepy home-town called Hasetsu.
Yuri thinks he knows him from head to toes, inside and out. Until he finds him crying, fucking crying in a public stall because he failed an exam for Christ sake!
It was accidental. Yuri happened to be in a conventional store, looking for snacks and cat food. And then the door opened, revealing an upset looking Yuuri. Yuri didn't call his name, nor greeted him with a simple 'Hello'. He didn't know why exactly. Probably because the look on Yuuri's face was haunting, not friendly like Yuri was used to. Yuuri was, at first, just strolling around idly. And when he stopped at a particular shelf, he suddenly went to the cashier. It seemed they were friends, since Yuuri casually asked her to borrow the stall for a moment. Yuri, piqued by his own curiosity, followed the Japanese man.
What he found brought him to anger. He felt disappointed. Somehow betrayed. As he witnessed the man he respected the most crumble and become a pathetic human.
Boiled by his own rage, Yuri kicked the door open—
Yuri closes his eyes. He pushes the memories away. He doesn't want to remember the harsh words he had thrown to the red faced, snotty nosed Yuuri Katsuki, doesn't want to remember the stunned expression on his face. He wants to forget them. Yuuri is supposed to be filled with good things. He's not weak. He shouldn't be weak.
Now that he mentions it, tomorrow is Wednesday. Tomorrow, Yuuri's supposed to come over.
Yuri probably has broke their friendship beyond repair.
Or so he thought.
Yuuri, the ever kind, patient, glass hearted Yuuri throws his expectations out of the window. He finds him standing next to his door, eyes still holding the ghost of what transpired yesterday. His lips curl into a tired smile, but genuine nonetheless.
"Hello," he says, quietly, "I think you still want me here since you didn't say otherwise."
Yuri feels the weight that seemed equivalent to a ton on his shoulders being lifted. He feels forgiven. He wants to thank anyone, maybe Yuuri himself for being too kind.
"That goes without saying, dumbass," is what he instead says, pushing the door as wide as possible.
Just because everything settles between them doesn't mean everything else also settles.
Like, Yuuri's problems, for example.
Yuri finds out later that Yuuri's beloved poodle had died, which was the cause of why he couldn't focus and failed his exam. Yuri doesn't know how to handle a sad, grownup man, so he just offers a silent consolation like what his Kazakhs friend, Otabek, usually does for him. But to be honest, he wants do something more for Yuuri. He just doesn't know how.
The answer comes to him in the letters of a party invitation.
"What is this?" Yuri asks, taking the thick, fragrant piece of paper the color of fresh peach into his hand.
Yuuri smiles. "You are invited to the association anniversary party where I work part time."
"The one with anger management program?"
"What should I wear?"
"Since it's informal party, casual clothes will do."
"Okay," Yuri says, voice calm. As if his mind isn't disturbed by whirlwind of excitement, surprise and nervousness. "Okay."
Two hours later, when Yuuri is about to go home, Yuri grabs his wrist.
"Tomorrow’s party," Yuri begins, sweat crawling on his nape. The words 'is it a date?' are on the tip of his tongue. A small push and they will come out. But instead, he swallows it down, back to his throat and what comes out is, "I'm going to pick you up."
Yuuri raises an eyebrow. "As far as I know, you don't drive, right Yura?"
"We can ask Viktor to give us a ride."
Yuuri chuckles. "Sure."
When Yuuri is out from his range of vision he closes the door and then thumps his head against it. He can only blame Yuuri for causing him do something so uncharacteristic. "Why I was so stupid why why why —"
"Yuratchka," his Mama calls. Because it's the perfect time for her to step out from her haven and bare witness to her son who is slowly going insane. "are you okay, son?"
Yuri pushes himself away and sends his Mama a strained smile.
"Don't worry, Mama. Your son is good and everything is under control."
"...okay, son. I believe in you."
Tomorrow is going to be alright. Yuri says so to himself. What could go wrong? It's just a date with a Japanese, meek, cute—
Yuri takes it back, it's not a date and it's his own goddamn fault.
He should've known better. Asking Viktor means he's going to pry. And after he knows, he's going to tag along. And it sucks.
"I hate you," Yuri spits and for once, there's no profanity, which shows how annoyed he is.
Viktor cocks his head, giving Yuri his full attention, "Yes Yura? Did you say something?"
Yuri turns away.
Yuri and Viktor are standing against a sleek, black BMW, waiting for Yuuri. They’re clad in casual yet stylish clothes. A few minutes later, they find Yuuri scurrying towards their direction and did Yuri already mention that the Japanese man looked handsome? Because he is. No one should have look so perfect in black cardigan and skinny jeans—like they were born to wear them. But here Yuri finds someone who does. He's also aware how Yuuri slicked back his hair, a simple touch that makes him sharper. Yuri hears Viktor whistle in appreciation beside him.
"Yuuri-sensei, you're so perfect tonight!"
"Good evening Viktor, Yura," he greets them then turns to give Viktor's an exasperated smile, "Viktor please, everyone knows you're the handsome one here."
"Oh, really? Thank you!" Viktor beams. Red spreads on his face and Yuri can't help but think, what? Like really, what?
"Let's go then!" Viktor exclaims. He ushers the younger two into the vehicle. He pouts when Yuuri opts to sit in the back seat with Yuri. He doesn't even budge when Viktor whines for him to sit in the passenger seat. Yuri smirks in triumph.
Their short trip turns out to be enjoyable, unexpectedly. Even Viktor's presence helps Yuri to sort out his mind like a tight leash. Viktor's idle chatter about his childhood indeed is annoying and the way Yuuri looks so interested doesn't help his suffering. But his small rage towards Viktor distracts him enough from butterfly touches here and there when he and Yuuri sit just too close. Their silly banter distracts him enough from not so secretive glances and chuckles Yuuri's sending him when the topic becomes too much for his pride to handle. But alas, in the end no matter how hard he keeps distracting himself he can't help but feels hyper aware with how close Yuuri is to him, to the point that if the Japanese man turns his head Yuri will feel his breath tickling against his ear.
At least his suffering ends when the car pulled to a stop in a parking area, where not too far away Yuri could hear the boom of music mingling with people's laughter.
"So we’re here?" Yuri asks.
"We are here!" Yuuri parrots, checking the address on the invitation before nodding to himself. The three of them slip out of the car.
"Wow, fantastic!" Viktor says aloud, hands in akimbo, "A garden party, huh? They did a good job with the decoration. I love the lamps. They look artistic."
"The higher ups want the theme different each year," Yuuri supplies as he strides to stand next to them, "let's go in."
The party is quite decent, in Yuri's opinion. The guests and hosts are tame. The foods and drinks are okay and they even divide them into two sections, with an adult section filled with alcoholic beverages. The music takes turns from 80s and 90s hits to songs currently on 100 chart billboard. Since it's a association with anger management program Yuri half expects there would be kids and teens swearing to each other but then again he thinks of course; it would be impossible.
Upon fifteen minutes of arriving, before Yuri forms a plan to woo the Japanese man, he already loses the sight of Viktor and Yuuri.
Yuri groans and slams a palm on his face. He has a bad feeling about this. Yuri puts the glass of iced lemon tea on the desk with a loud clack. From there he grumpily pries through the sea of dancing people. Better late than sorry, he needs to find them before shit happens. He is about to fish out his phone when a loud cheering catches his attention.
On the west corner where it is the rowdiest, Yuri finally finds one of them. But it's too late, Yuri realizes again with slacked jaw.
It's his name. It's Yuuri's voice. And the wave obviously meant for him. But he's not sure he recognizes the drunk man, almost naked, pole dancing in the middle of the stage. And fuck, who put the pole in a party where 30% of the participants were elderly! Curse whoever did!
Yuri had half the mind to leave this embarrassing man, but then he remembers he has a crush on this man, so he supposedly should come to his aid before further damage. And the real, sober Yuuri probably will appreciate it so much anyway. So Yuri starts to move again, trying to pry more people from his path to make his way to the Japanese drunkard only to stop after three efforts.
"Yuratchkaaa!" Yuuri detaches himself from the pole — someone halts him when he's about to go and shoves a pile of clothes to his chest with a big slap on his back. The two of them laughs while Yuuri dutifully tugs on his clothes albeit haphazardly. Once he's done he runs towards Yuri as best as he can in the crowd of people. When finally he is close, Yuuri with his silly grin, grabs both his hands and tugs on his arms to kiss him
Yuri.exe comes to a halt and is at risk of being broken completely.
Too soon, Yuuri parts their lips. Yuri blinks. He barely manages to make out how triumphant-looking the Japanese man's face is.
"Let's have a dance off!" he says cheerily.
But Yuri can't respond, not at the moment. So he lets himself get dragged by the drunk, giggling man to a patio with a solid and smooth surface.
"Let's have a dance off! If I win I can kiss you and if you win you can kiss me!"
Yuri is pulled from his reverie when the music starts and the chairs and tables being moved for their sake. He realizes too late Yuuri already became the life of the party. The crowds cheer as Yuuri starts to show his hidden talent at breakdance. Yuri, who barely knows what the fuck is exactly happening, blinks his eyes.
"Come on, Yuratchkaaaa!" Yuuri whines, stopping in the midst of his move. He tugs Yuri with his thumb and index fingers.
"Come on! Or are you afraid you're going to be defeated by me?"
Yuri finally finds his voice. "It's crazy... let's go home, Yuuri. I'll text Viktor—"
"Nooo!" Yuuri whines again, "Yura is no fun! You're just afraid, aren't you!" Yuuri giggles quite loudly and then singsongs, "Yura's afraid, Yura's afraid, Yura—"
"Oh fine, dammit!" Yuri throws his jacket, the crowds and Yuuri cheering and clapping at him. It's ridiculous. Who is the adult now? The music starts again. Yuri realizes he doesn't know what to do. He glances at Yuuri. The man looks like he is having the best time in the world. Honestly, the expression on his face is quite endearing. Drunk or not, Yuuri effortlessly pulls out a genuine smile and it's one of his traits that makes him captivating. Yuri doesn't want to lose to this man, he decides, so he follows how the other moves on the floor. Exhilarating. Elating. Exciting. Yuri has a ton of words to describe this moment.
He doesn't realize it at first, but when he's out of breath, hands on his knees and lost to this incredible man, fucking lost yet he can't muster an ounce of an upset feeling from his defeat, he finds himself laughing on the contrary as he never felt so free.
"Okay, Yuuri," he wheezes, "it's your win."
Yuuri stops his dance, doing salto to back on his feet and wow, for someone so drunk he has very good balance. Yuri keeps his hands on his hips, still trying to catch his breath, but he's not prepared for what came next.
Yuuri's smile, so blindingly beautiful.
And he's coming towards him.
And then Yuri remembers about the bet.
The heat explodes on his face.
"Oh right!" Yuri exclaims suddenly, face impossibly red, "we have something to do; let's go home!"
His speech is practically intelligible words coming out jumbled, but he doesn't care. He needs to take Yuuri out of here. Before his heart explodes. Yuuri, still oblivious, innocently asks him where they're going and Yuri promptly refuses to answer. When they're on the deserted park area, away from the party, away from the crowd, from the eyes, he stops their tracks. He turns and grabs both of Yuuri's arms.
"Yuuri," Yuri says urgently, "do you like me?" He has to ask it now. And honestly, maybe he feels too hopeful.
"I like you, Yura," he answers, smiling.
"As a friend?"
"As a friend," Yuuri nods. Yuri grimaces. Ouch, this shouldn't be this painful.
"But...," Yuuri drawls, his index finger on his chin, his unfocused eyes set towards the sky, "friends don't kiss each other, right? So...,"
"I don't know?" Yuuri looks upset. He turns his eyes to Yuri, "Yuratchka? Do you know I like you as a friend or not?"
"That's the fucking I want to know too!" Yuri grumbles. After a moment, he takes a deep breath.
"Okay then, Yuuri do you still want to kiss me?"
Yuri's heart skips a beat.
Yuuri giggles, "Because you're handsome?"
'That's flattering coming from the handsome man himself but thank you' Yuri keeps the giddy comment aside. "You do also find Viktor handsome, right? Don't you want to kiss him?"
"I do," Yuuri sighs, "on the feet probably. Because he's skating with his feet and I am his fan since as long as I can remember. You know right? He skates like boom! Whaa! Sshhhhh!"
"Okay," Yuri stops him before the talk becomes weird, "not on the lips?"
"What's not on the lips?"
"You kissing Viktor."
"I? Kiss Viktor? Why?"
"Do you want to kiss Viktor on the lips?"
There's a faraway look when Yuuri answers, "No. Suketto Kami-sama aren’t supposed to be kissed on the lips. So no."
Yuri doesn't understand what the words mean but as long as he means no, then it is fine.
"Do you want to kiss someone else on the lips?"
Yuuri is quiet. His attention probably descends on somewhere since his eyes looks more focused on a random horizon.
"Nee, nee, Yura, I won right? So when can I kiss you?"
Yuri can't hide his smile as he shakes his head, "That won't do, Yuuri. Answer me first, do you want to kiss someone else right now?"
"No," Yuuri looks like a kicked puppy, "Can I kiss you now?"
Yuri laughs. "No. You need to sober up first. Then tell me properly what you feel."
Still laughing, Yuri fishes out his phone and sends Viktor a message 'Yuuri is drunk, take us home. We're at the park lot'. When he tucks the phone in his pocket, he feels warmth against his left side upon Yuuri pressing his temple against Yuri's neck.
"You're warm," he says sleepily. "and you smell nice."
"Thank you. You also smell nice." Lies, his mind chides him, the man heavily smells like alcohol but Yuri barely pays attention. Love — this is love, right? — is a strange thing indeed. Some people even say love is blind, after all.
Yuuri looks up, eyes dropping but he still fights for an ounce of soberness, "If I can't kiss you, can we at least cuddle?"
Yuri has this foreign but familiar urge to kiss Yuuri's button nose. Yuuri is just so cute. He shifts his gaze to the top of Yuuri's dark hair. It's messy like bird's nest but to Yuri it suits Yuuri perfectly.
"I never said you couldn't kiss me. Of course you can kiss me, but not now. And sure, we can cuddle. But we need to find Viktor's car first."
Yuuri follows him like an obedient puppy when Yuri leads, him hand in hand. They find Viktor's car shortly after. Yuri tugs Yuuri hand so that they sit on the decaying grass with their backs against the car. Yuuri immediately clings to his arm like a koala with his head on Yuri's shoulder. It's quite nice. The weight and the warmth felt just right. The stars above look so clear tonight. Yuri hums a nursery song; he doesn't know whether he's terrible at it or not since he's never done something like this before, but Yuuri starts to nod off and Yuri counts it as a win. Around thirty minutes later his phone vibrates. He taps the call button.
'Yura darling,' he hears his Mama's soft voice against his ear, 'where can I pick you? Viktor is too drunk so a friend of him called me about your message, are you still with Yuuri?'
"Hello Mama, you can wait at the entrance of the parking lot, we'll meet you there. And yes, Yuuri is with me."
'Okay then, son. I'm not too far away right now. See you soon.'
"See you soon, Mama."
As Yuri hangs the phone up the blond gently pats the Japanese's cheek. And Gosh, it's so soft.
"Yuuri. Yuuri, can you hear me? Mama's picking us up."
Yuuri wakes with a big yawn. He squints at Yuri. His eyes are red rimmed. The slumber still clings to his eyelashes and Yuri knows if he's not gonna urge him to be awake now Yuuri will be back to sleep at any moment.
"Come on, sleepyhead. Let's not make trouble for my Mama, shall we?" Yuri says, standing up.
"Your Mama?" Yuuri grunts as Yuri pulls him to his feet with so much difficulty. Wow, he's so heavy. Yuri needs to grow faster first before he could try to carry this man in his arms. "What about Viktor?"
If Yuuri remembers Viktor, he's probably starting to sober up.
"Too drunk for me to care."
"Okay. So it's your Mama..." Yuuri mumbles. He basically drapes his whole weight on Yuri as they walk to the entrance. "Your Mama is beautiful, and young too..." he mumbles, "how old is she?"
Yuri thins his lips. "31." He waits for Yuuri's negative reaction, but finds none.
"How old are you, Yura?"
"16. You can't do the math right now with your sleepy brain, so I'll help you; my Mama had me when she was 15."
Yuri finds it again; the suspense of waiting people for scorn him. At his Mama. He's supposed to be used by it by now, but Yuuri is different. Other people's reaction towards him and his family doesn't matter a single bit but Yuuri's does. So Yuri, just like the wrong number incident, he waits and waits and waits until—
—he hears a snore.
"Oh you fucking little shit!" Yuri barks a laugh. His body jolts violently by the force, but Yuuri is still peacefully asleep against him, "No wonder it's so heavy, you fat ass!"
Yuuri doesn't remember
At all. No. Nothing.
Can you imagine the horror?
Yuuri confessed, he barely remembered things past Viktor shoving glasses of champagne on him. Which means...
He doesn't remember about the kiss.
He doesn't remember about the (sort of) confession.
He doesn't remember the dance off.
He doesn't remember the bet.
He doesn't remember plucking Yuri's heart out of his chest only to shove it down his throat.
...Okay, that last part didn't exactly happen but if you're looking from philosophical standpoint you'd get that Yuuri doesn't remember the fact that he stole Yuri's heart.
He knows Yuuri likes him. But Yuuri doesn't know he knows. Yuri knows about the bet, about the canceled kiss. But Yuuri forgets about them all. This is really a mess.
Yuri's been confused this past days. He looks like a dazed person. You can say Yuri.exe doesn't work properly and, what is Yuri.exe again? Oh right. It's the minions conquering the way his mind works. Is this how Yuri sees how a human mind works? Yes, thanks to a certain movie.
"Yura?" Yuuri calls from the opposite of the table where books and papers lay haphazardly. Yuri blinks at him. Why is Yuuri in his home?
Oh right, it's Wednesday.
"Yura are you okay? You don't look so good right now."
"Oh. I'm fine. Please don't mind me."
He hears a gasp from behind. Yuri turns and finds his Mama with a tray of cookies, looking at him, astounded.
"Yuratchka said 'please'? For the first time? This need to be celebrated!"
Yuri, who finally has a grip on his mind, cringes at his Mama's reaction. That sounds just exactly like what Viktor would say.
"Please, Mama. No...,"
"He says it for the second time oh my I'm crying," his Mama says again dramatically. Yuuri, who is not doing a good job at stifling his chuckles, helps her clear the table when she puts the tray on the table. His Mama then twirls before putting her hands — which still covered with the thick cooking mittens — on her chest. "My baby has grown up."
"Mama," Yuri says warningly with a soft tone. Soft, because he would never dare to upset his Mama with a harsh tone. They exchange a meaningful look before his Mama ruffles his hair. "Well, the program does a good job, then."
"Um, about that," comes Yuuri's nervous respond. The mother and son turn their heads towards the Japanese man, "I'm sorry in advance if I'm wrong but Mrs. Plisetskaya, about the program did you mean the anger management program?"
"Yes. What else?" his Mama answers brightly.
"Well, I'm sorry if I didn't clearly state it before but Yura isn't our client. He is not ever since he refused the program."
"Oh yeah? What about the meditation? Or the tutoring?"
"Yuri also refused that one. And the tutoring is my own wish. I simply want to be his friend."
"You're so sweet, Yuuri," his Mama says, eyes teary. She hugs Yuuri and whispers something to him. His Mama probably thinks Yuri can't hear it but he knows what she's whispering. The words have already said to select people before. To Viktor. To Yakov. To Lilia. To Otabek. To Mila. And even to Georgi.
'Thank you for being friends with my son'
His Mama is a sappy person. But that's the best trait she has and it makes her the best mother in the world.
Yuuri looks at her with tender eyes. Yuri sees a newfound respect in them and it makes his heart aches.
'You're welcome,' Yuuri moves his mouth without a single sound being uttered.
It's already dark outside, and Yuuri can't stay for long so he politely excuses himself. Yuri gladly sends him to the door.
"Your Mama is beautiful lady, Yura," Yuuri says after Yuri closes the door behind him, "May I know how old is she?"
Ah, this again?
"She's 31. She had me when she was 15."
Yuuri blinks at him. "Oh. I'm sorry."
Yuri shakes his head. "People say I was unneeded when I was born. They say it was an accident. But Mama always tells me I'm a gift. So don't be."
After a moment of awkward silence he hears Yuuri say, "You are a gift, Yura. Your Mama is right."
Yuri lifts his head and, good God, the magic appears again.
Here, under the starry sky, the lamp from the terrace reflects on Yuuri's eyes just right and Yuri sees for the second time the gold stars peeking from dark brown pools. There's so many stars above them but the the stars in Yuuri's eyes are the most captivating. Overwhelmed with his own emotions, without thinking, Yuri tugs Yuuri's arm and says,
"Yuuri, do you like me?"
There's a pause between them when they just stare at each other's eyes. But slowly, so painstakingly slowly, the heat worms up from Yuuri's neck to his cheeks and to his ears.
"W-w-what makes you think so?"
Yuri smirks wistfully, "Well, you kinda confessed to me at the party when you were drunk."
The blush deepens.
"W-w-w-why d-d-didn't you s-s-say so?"
"Because I was confused...?"
Yuri without warning barks a laugh.
"Oh goddammit now that you mention it I feel so silly right now! Okay, well I'm sorry," Yuri says after he's calm again.
Yuri looks up so he can look at the other man right on the eyes. Yuuri is taller, for now, but Yuri promises to himself that he'll catch up. And someday, maybe someday, he'll even grow taller. "So? I like you. Wanna be my boyfriend?"
There's a squeak with high pitched inhuman sound that comes out from between Yuuri's lips. He sounds terrified but the deep blush says otherwise — such a weird combination. For a while, Yuuri only can produce garbled sounds, which is funny, but in the end he decides he doesn't trust his voice so he nods his head to answer.
Yuri grins widely.
"Now, I'm waiting for your kiss," he says slyly, enjoying the mortified look on his face.
"K-k-ki— why me?"
"You probably still don't remember, but we made a bet at the party. Whoever won the dance off would kiss the lucky loser," Yuri smirks. "What is so hard about kissing me, Yuuri? Don't tell me you never kissed some—"
Yuri lets out a pleased sound as he is silenced by a pair of warm lips. His eyes widen from the surprise, but he quickly relaxes. From their distance apart — precisely nothing — he manages to make out how red Yuuri's face is and how tightly closed his eyes are. Yuri hums in delight. He closes his eyes, savoring the kiss.
Yup, this was supposed to be this simple