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The Scrapbook

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Yuuri left the rink exhausted. Training was long, hard, and productive, but he’d finalized his short program choreography. His quadruple flip wasn’t looking too shabby, either. He ran it over and over, imagining the look on Victor’s face when Yuuri perfected his signature jump. He stretched his back and winced. Maybe, if he caught Victor at the right moment, he’d get a massage.

It was a vibrant spring day. Beads of dew glistened on the flowers nearby, catching Yuuri’s eye. He picked one for Victor.

Walking home by himself was a rare moment of peace. Between Victor’s constant affection and Yurio’s needling at the rink, Yuuri had forgotten how cleansing it could feel to be alone. Of course, he loved every second he spent with Victor. But living in Russia felt far different from living in Japan

At times, Yuuri was homesick. Coming home to Victor made that feeling disappear.

Victor was his home.


Victor sat on the sofa, his back to Yuuri, humming as he snipped away at scraps of paper and searched through his array of brush pens, plucking out vivid violets and lurid reds.

“What are you up to?” Yuuri said, draping himself over Victor’s shoulder.

“Yuuri! Don’t scare me like that!” Victor clutched his chest. “I’m making a scrapbook.”

“Victor, it’s adorable.” He plunked himself on the couch beside Victor, smiling. Despite all the time Victor spent with him, he was never used to how beautiful Yuuri was, his messy raven hair framing his soft face and large, brown, caring eyes. The ring on Yuuri’s finger was just as golden as the day Victor slid it on his finger; he polished it once a week.

“Wanna help?”

“I don’t want to mess it up,” said Yuuri, looking nervously at Victor’s flawless spread. Victor’d tried to get Yuuri to attend his numerous arts and crafts classes, but he was too anxious to try.

“They don’t have to be perfect. Anything you’d do would be beautiful,” Victor said, smiling. He brushed a lock of Yuuri’s hair out of his eyes. “You need a haircut.”

Yuuri, likewise, brushed Victor’s hair off his face. “So do you.”

Victor stroked Yuuri’s hair. “That’s the hair you had on your head when you won gold,” said Victor. “Maybe you shouldn’t get a haircut.”
“What, and grow it out to the floor?”

“You’ll be my Rapunzel.”

“Oh! I just remembered,” Yuuri dug in his pockets and extracted a slightly crumpled flower. “For you.”

“Yuuri, thank you!” Victor held it to his chest, and then tested it against a page of the scrapbook. “I’m going to press it on the front page, right next to our couple photo.”

“Can I help?”

“We’ll do it together.”


First page: Yuuri And Victor’s First Year!
A photo of Yuuri and Victor, holding their rings up to the camera, grinning.
A dried flower glued beside them.
Caption: To one year of love, and many more!