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Grand Prix University

Summary:

Yuri Katsuki abandons his dream career as an erotic novelist and begins working as an adjunct professor at Grand Prix University’s Modern Languages Department. There, he meets Victor Nikiforov, a Russian literary scholar who considers his work his only successful relationship. As their bond develops, they slowly learn to follow their hearts rather than their fears, rediscovering life and love along the way.

Notes:

The one where Yuri messes up, and Victor finds a silver lining.

Thanks for embarking on this fanfic journey with me! It'll be a wild ride, but well worth it in the end (fingers crossed!)

Feedback always welcome, so comment away!

Planning to update every two weeks (or at the VERY LEAST once a month), but please be patient with this tired-ass law student. I have half of this series written out, and barring some crazy circumstance, I WILL FINISH WHAT I STARTED. Hold me to it!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: Unfashionably Early

Chapter Text

Victor sat in his office, gazing out the window, observing the first few rays of autumn sun filter through the leaves of the oak tree outside. He relished these moments of peace. It was rare to have his office to himself. When his colleagues weren’t around complaining about the department chair’s temper, his students would pop in and out, one after the other, vying for a chance to get close to their tall and handsome Russian professor. Today, he was alone.

Victor had spent the previous year on sabbatical, living in St. Petersburg to do research with other experts on 19th Century Russian literature. In his short career in academia, he had gained enough respect to receive invitations from both national and international universities to appear as a speaker or guest lecturer. A few years ago, the hiring committee for Grand Prix University’s Modern Languages Department heard about Victor’s growing prestige. Yakov Feltsman, the chair of the department, offered him a tenured position, which he happily accepted.

Now entering his fifth year at GPU, Victor expected to return to the familiar campus relieved; instead, he felt an ineffable emptiness. He had only been a professor for eight years, yet he felt that he had accomplished everything he ever could. He felt that he had reached his limit. He couldn’t surprise anyone anymore. Despite being one of the most popular professors among the students, and despite the friendships he had fostered in the university, something was missing.

After a few minutes lost in thought, Victor spun his chair around, positioned his hands over his keyboard, and continued working on his literary critique. His focused clacking was interrupted by a soft knock. He looked up to see an unfamiliar face peeking out from behind his half-opened door.

“Excuse me, Professor Nikiforov?” The stranger, out of breath, took a few timid steps into Victor’s office. “I’m here for the faculty meeting. Where is everybody?”

Victor stared at the stranger. He wore khakis and a black sweater vest with a wrinkled white collared shirt underneath. He looked like a typical academic, adjusting his blue-framed glasses and sporting a standard brown leather briefcase with clear signs of wear-and-tear from years of use. Maybe he wasn’t the sharpest dresser, but he was cute, Victor thought. Based on his disheveled hair and the droplets of sweat on his forehead, he suspected that the stranger had overslept and sprinted to campus.

“I’m afraid you’re a day early. Faculty meeting isn’t until tomorrow.” Victor could see the stranger tense up nervously at the realization. “I know we’re supposed to be punctual, but you’re showing some real dedication!” He teased, trying to resist the smile creeping up the corners of his mouth.

The stranger clutched his briefcase tighter, feeling his face redden from embarrassment. He knew he should have double, no, triple checked his calendar before rushing over.

“Ah, well, then I guess I should head home then. Sorry for the intrusion.” The stranger gave a quick bow and turned for the door.

“Wait!” Victor exclaimed, standing up out of his seat. “I don’t think we’ve met.” He extended his hand in a friendly gesture. “I’m Victor Nikiforov. I teach Russian literature.”

The stranger turned around, and Victor flashed a heart-shaped smile awaiting his response. He hesitated a moment before finally shaking Victor’s hand.

“I’m Yuri Katsuki, the new Japanese adjunct professor.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Professor Katsuki. Since you’re here already, maybe I could show around?”

“Umm, sure, that would be great.”

Yuri smiled shyly, relieved that his timing error hadn’t made a bad impression on his new colleague. Unfortunately, this relief was short-lived. While Yuri could tell that Victor was good-looking from behind his desk, that fact was even more obvious now that he was standing and eagerly making his way toward him. Victor looked statuesque: sharp Eastern European features, light blue eyes, and platinum hair. He wore tailored slacks that hugged the curves of his ass and a form-fitting light-blue collared shirt that probably pushed the limits of appropriate office wear. Yuri’s nerves returned tenfold, and he was suddenly acutely aware of his appearance. Victor was gorgeous, and Yuri was a hot, sweaty mess.

“Come with me.”

Victor lightly placed a respectful hand on Yuri’s back, inviting him to walk alongside him. The gentle touch sent chills down Yuri’s spine, but he pushed aside any intrusive thoughts as he followed Victor for a grand tour.

The Modern Languages Department was located on the fifth floor of University Hall. Each department had its own corner of the building. Faculty offices lined the edges of the quadrant, and couches, chairs, and tables were scattered in the middle of the open space as a common area for students and professors to work and interact. Victor showed Yuri the ins and outs of the department, from “the only functioning copy machine on the floor” to “best place to find some goddamn peace and quiet.” Yuri followed along and listened happily as Victor went on telling stories about department shenanigans. Apparently, there was a vicious manhunt to find the fiend who kept changing the channel on the faculty lounge TV to competitive figure skating. Recently, they’ve also been perplexed by the influx of students who have chosen the department as their new preferred place to study. The answer to both questions was, of course, Victor.

“So, tell me about yourself, Yuri.” Victor turned to his companion as they made their way outside through a set of glass doors.

“Umm, well, uh…” Yuri was flustered for a moment, not expecting Victor to call him by his first name. “What would you like to know?”

“For starters, where are you from and what brought you to GPU?” The two turned the corner to a small garden concealed by a wall of tall hedges.

“Well, I’m originally from Japan. I came to the U.S. for college to study English literature, actually. I got sucked into the Japanese curriculum and ended up getting a Ph.D. in that instead.” Yuri looked over at Victor, who was listening intently.

“Is this your first year teaching?”

“I taught classes during my Ph.D. program, but nothing beyond that.”

“I see. So, why GPU?”

“I’m close to one of the professors in the Theater Department, and he told me about the open position, so I applied.”

“Ah, boyfriend?” Victor said with an arched brow and a teasing smile.

“It’s not what you think!” Yuri stopped abruptly, shaking his head and waving his hands in denial. Yuri was fairly inexperienced in that arena of his life; although he would be lying if he said he hadn’t checked Victor’s hand for a ring. He looked at his hand again just in case. All clear.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Victor laughed. He almost felt sorry, but he enjoyed Yuri’s nervous and flustered reaction too much to feel any real remorse. “So, what were you doing before you got this job?”

Victor lead them to a wooden bench and took a seat. Composing himself, Yuri sat down next to him, taking care to keep some professional distance between them.

“I used to write. Books, mostly.” Yuri said shyly. “They weren’t great.”

Victor could tell that Yuri wasn’t trying to be modest. In fact, it almost seemed like he was ashamed. Sensing Yuri’s mood shift, Victor smiled in an attempt to cheer him up.

“I’m sure they’re incredible! I’d love to read them some time.”

“They’re really not any good,” Yuri looked down at his feet, hoping that Victor would drop the subject.

“Good enough to be published, and good enough to get you here.”

The dejected Yuri looked up at Victor, who was still smiling, not as brightly, but sincerely. Yuri gave a half smile back and uttered a weak thank you.

“What about you? How long have you been teaching here?”

“I started five years ago, but it feels like a lifetime.”

“Do you enjoy it? Being a professor, I mean.”

“I do.” Victor looked up at the sky, powder blue. “It was hard at first. During my first year here, I used to come out and sit on this bench after my classes. I wanted my students to fall in love with literature the way I did, so I would sit here thinking of crazy ideas to make them love Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky,” Victor chuckled, “but then I realized that literature doesn’t work like that. I can’t force anyone to love literature. Literature speaks for itself. It swallows you whole, and when it spits you back out, you’re a different person with a different view of the world.”

Yuri understood well what Victor meant. You can’t make someone love something. Yuri had spent his entire career trying to make people love his work. He was no Dostoyevsky, but he had talent and a niche community of readers he wanted to reach. Unfortunately, Yuri’s anxiety had gotten the better of him, and after a few rejections from big publishers, he decided to take an indefinite break from writing despite his editor Celestino’s pleas.

“I worry about being a good professor too.” Yuri’s gaze remained on Victor. Watching the silver strands of hair flutter in the breeze was comforting.

Victor put a hand on Yuri’s shoulder. “The first year’s always rough. If you’re ever feeling unsure about something, I’m here to help.”

Victor smiled, and Yuri felt a sense of reassurance that he hadn’t felt in a while.

“I guess we should go find your new office.”

Victor stood up and offered his hand. Yuri took it, this time with less hesitation. It was a welcome warmth against the cool air. After Victor pulled him up, the two professors made their way back to the farthest corner of the department where they started.

“I guess we’re neighbors!” Victor said cheerfully, pointing at a black label on the door with bold white letters spelling out Yuri’s name.

That smile made Yuri’s heart beat so hard that he was almost certain even Victor could hear it pounding against his chest. He couldn’t tell if he was intimidated or attracted, but it was probably a mix of both.

“I’ll be right next door if you need anything,” Victor turned to walk toward his office. He stopped at his door and glanced back over his shoulder. “I look forward to working with you.”

Victor smiled again, but this time, with just one corner of his mouth upturned and his playful gaze resting on Yuri for a brief moment.

Yuri nodded and watched Victor disappear into his office.

Was that a wink?

Did Victor just wink at me?

It was probably his imagination, he thought. The lack of sleep and anxiety of starting a new position had made him delusional. There was no way that a man like Victor would wink at him or do anything even remotely flirtatious. Yuri shook his head to ward off any presumptuous thoughts of his new colleague. Once he brought himself back to reality, he started the walk back to his apartment.

Meanwhile, in his office, Victor stared out the window with an amused smirk on his face. Perhaps this new semester would be interesting after all.

Chapter 2: Wingmen

Notes:

The one where Chris lends a helping hand.

IN HONOR OF LOVE, here's the next chapter an entire day early! Happy Valentine's Day, especially to my ship of dreams #victuuri.

Chapter Text

When Yuri finally returned to his apartment, he plopped down onto his bed, feeling gravity pull him heavy onto the soft sheets. What a morning, he thought. His anxious energy had left his body, and only exhaustion remained. He hadn’t slept well the past few nights. He had nightmares that he wouldn’t fit in with the other professors and worried constantly that his students would make fun of him for stumbling over his words. He wasn’t sure why he chose to pursue a career that involved public speaking, but teaching felt like a natural transition from writing, and truthfully, he had lost hope in his career as an author. Yuri tried to readjust himself, but the mattress was quicksand that had taken a firm hold of his limbs. Instead of fighting it, he surrendered to a long and well-deserved nap.

_____________________________

“Yuri!”

Yuri awoke to his neighbor, Phichit, knocking loudly on his door.

“I know you’re in there!”

Having known Phichit since college, Yuri knew that his persistent knocking would not stop until he finally let him in. Yuri stirred and forced his eyelids open, still heavy from fatigue. He pushed himself upright and straightened his glasses as he had a bad habit of falling asleep in them. Yuri hopped out of bed, walked to his living room, and opened the door.

“About time,” Phichit barged into the apartment with a bag of take-out. “I brought you some dinner. I figured you’d be tried after your meeting, but I didn’t think you’d be out cold all day.”

Phichit made himself at home on the couch and began opening boxes of Chinese food. Yuri sat beside him, still barely awake.

“What time is it?” Yuri asked groggily.

“It’s almost 6 o’clock.” Yuri had been napping for whopping nine hours straight.

“So, how was it?” Phichit asked.

Phichit Chulanont, or Professor Chulanont as his students and older colleagues called him, had been working as an adjunct in the Theater Department for one year. The previous year, he had fulfilled his dream of writing and directing a show in Thailand, and now it was his turn to, in his own words, “inspire the dreary youth.” He was Yuri’s best friend. The two international students were assigned as random roommates in college, and they’ve been inseparable ever since.

“I was a day early to the meeting,” Yuri said as he split apart his wooden chopsticks and began digging in.

“Aha! I knew something was off when you said you had a meeting on a Sunday!” Phichit pointed his eggroll at Yuri before biting into it.  

“But it wasn’t all bad. I met another professor who was nice enough to show me around. Do you know a Victor Nikiforov?”

Phichit dropped the half-eaten eggroll on the ground. “Russian Victor?”

“Yeah, you know him?” Yuri asked through a mouthful of noodles.

Of course, Phichit knew Victor.

The Victor.

So respected that he won “Outstanding Professor Award” by popular vote five years in a row.

So beloved that not a single student missed his classes, ever.

So beautiful that campus security had to post signs saying “PAY ATTENTION WHILE WALKING” because so many pedestrians had gotten into accidents, distracted by his good looks.

“Lucky!” Phichit shoved Yuri with one hand, playfully, but with enough force to suggest that he was very much serious.

“What’s the big deal?” Yuri coughed, nearly choking on the noodles in his mouth. He took a big gulp of water before hitting Phichit back. “Is he famous or something?”

“He might as well be.” Phichit took his phone out of his back pocket and proceeded to scroll through pictures of Victor on Google: professional headshots, candid photos of him presenting at various events, and even personal photos of him and an adorable brown poodle lounging on a couch. “He’s definitely a campus celebrity. Everyone loves him.”

“Hmm…”

Yuri trailed off as he stared at a photo of Victor giving a speech behind a podium. He was wearing one of those brown tweed blazers with elbow patches sewn in. As nerdy as it was, Yuri thought the academic look suited him. He would probably look good in anything. He would probably look good in nothing. Yuri shook his head, stopping himself before his thoughts could betray him further. He refused to let a small crush devolve into some dirty fantasy. Yet, Yuri certainly understood why everyone adored Victor. He had only spent a couple of hours with him, and the man had already charmed his way into Yuri’s daydreams, and perhaps one day into his pants.

Stop, dammit. Yuri cursed his vivid writer’s imagination and implored his mind to stop before it got a little too creative.

Noticing Yuri’s agitation, Phichit leaned in and inquired, “Did something happen between you two?”

“What? Umm, no, not really. He was very friendly.”

Intrigued, Phichit pressed on, “Friendly how?”

“Well, you know, he offered to help me out if I ever needed anything. He was also…” Yuri struggled to think of the right word, “…handsy?”

“What? You mean like he harassed you? Do we need to file a report?”

“No! God, no. I just mean he seemed really…comfortable with me…” Yuri blushed thinking about each instance of contact between them. Handsy was probably a poor choice, but he didn’t quite know how to explain it. He was unaccustomed to Victor’s openness. He had never been good at first impressions or meeting new people, yet Victor didn’t seem to care. Instead, Victor met Yuri with a warmth that made him want to open up. He wanted to show Victor that he was more than just that first impression.

The red on Yuri’s cheeks deepened, and Phichit’s matchmaking senses began tingling.

“Okay, so what exactly did he do?”

“Well, he patted my shoulder, helped me out of my seat. Normal stuff…right?”

“Do you think that’s normal?” Phichit raised a brow.

“Well…I don’t know…wouldn’t you know? You’re friends, right?” Yuri asked.

“Nope, never spoken a single word to that fine man, but I do know Chris Giacometti. We teach in the Theater Department together. He and Victor go way back. Here, look.”

Phichit opened Instagram and scrolled down his feed to a post by christophe-gc. It was a picture of Victor and a bleach-blonde man, presumably Chris, wearing skimpy speedos, sitting on the edge of a swimming pool with sunglasses on and one leg raised high to the sky.

Christophe-gc Dissertations brighter than your future. #tbt to grad school!

Yuri forced back a smile. The picture and the caption were funny, but seeing Victor in a tiny speedo was the icing on top. Phichit clicked on the v-nikiforov tag to access Victor’s page.

“Oh, look, he posted something a few minutes ago,” Phichit pointed out.  

The picture was a selfie of Victor in his office, smiling, his face half-bathed in warm pink and orange hues from the soft sunset outside his widow. Even digitally, that heart-shaped smile still made Yuri swoon. Phichit scrolled down to the caption, and upon reading it, Yuri abruptly snatched the phone from Phichit’s hand.

“Hey!”

Phichit protested, but Yuri ignored it, too preoccupied with the words on the screen.

Yuri read the caption again and rubbed his eyes for good measure.

Phichit looked over Yuri’s shoulder and gasped, “Oh. My. God.”

V-nikiforov All smiles because I met the cutest new addition to our department today. Maybe I’ll enroll in Japanese 101 ;)

Yuri stared at the screen, unable to process the very suggestive post.

“The Russian gods must be watching over you. Either that or Victor’s really into the distressed professor look,” Phichit chucked, eyeing Yuri’s wrinkled outfit and messy bed hair, which, despite the fact that he had been knocked out for the past nine hours, was tragically his natural state. In other words, he always looked like that, nap or no nap.

Normally, Yuri would have come back with a good-humored insult: maybe take a jab at the endless selfies on Phichit’s phone, or perhaps comment on his copious scarf collection with patterns that ranged from plain plaid to flashy rainbow cupcakes. This time, however, he could only muster a few sounds strung together incoherently.

“Wh—what, umm, he…wh—why did he...who…”

“He’s obviously talking about you,” Phichit reassured him.

Yuri knew that, but convincing himself that Victor actually thought he was cute was like convincing Phichit that The King and the Skater was a shitty movie.

“What do I do?”

“Beats me,” Phichit shrugged, mischief written across his face. “Looks like it’s going to be an interesting year for you, Professor Katsuki.”

______________________________________________________________________________

30 minutes earlier…

Victor shut his laptop and let out a deep sigh of triumph and relief. After the last sounds of Yuri’s footsteps had faded, Victor had continued where he left off, typing away to finish his work. He had a deadline looming, and Yuri’s appearance had distracted him, albeit in the best way possible. Can’t say no to an angel-faced sweetheart who waltzes into your office!

Once he had settled back in, Victor hammered out the rest of the critique and submitted it for publication. Victor rubbed his tired eyes and checked the time. It was nearly 6 o’clock. By now, the dog walker should have finished Makkachin’s second walk of the day. The sweet poodle would patiently await her owner’s return, and Victor could think of nothing better than to get home and cuddle with his favorite girl.

As he turned his chair around to grab his briefcase, Victor noticed the pastel sunset illuminating his office. Perfect lighting for a selfie, he thought. Victor was fairly active on social media, and although he kept his account private for professional reasons, he still had enough friends to form a loyal following. Someone had suggested quitting academia and becoming an influencer, but Victor politely declined. He was perfectly content with his amateur unsponsored photos, which consisted mostly of him and his pup.

After taking a few selfies, Victor settled on one that he thought resembled a watercolor painting. He thought perhaps he should post something about the “dawn of a new semester” or “so long sweet summer,” but before he could think of a caption, a blonde man in a black turtleneck and dark jeans swung the door open with wine and wine glasses in hand.

“Happy new school year!”

Victor put down his phone without posting the photo. “Chris, you know we’re not supposed to have alcohol in here.”

The admonition fell on deaf ears as Chris began twisting the cork off the bottle. It didn’t help that Victor was smiling and already reaching for a glass.

“Oh, please. Seung-gil has at least five bottles of soju in his bottom drawer.” The two laughed as Chris generously filled their glasses. “I’m surprised you’re still here.”

“I was finishing up work. I got a little sidetracked.”

Chris took a sip of merlot and asked, “By what?”

“Cute new professor.”

Wine in hand, Chris sat down and leaned back comfortably on the plush navy couch in the corner of the office. “Oh, do tell.”

Victor grabbed his glass and smiled as he recalled his encounter with Yuri earlier that morning.

“He came in thinking that the faculty meeting was today,” Victor said amused. “He was a mess, but it was…endearing, maybe even charming? You should’ve seen him. He was out of breath, hair all over the place, and he was wearing this sweater vest—”

“A sweater vest?” Chris laughed, both appalled and amused at the notion of any modern-day man unironically wearing a sweater vest.

“Yes, but that’s beside the point,” Victor brushed off the comment. “He was obviously panicked. I mean, the poor guy probably ran all the way here from god knows where. But, man, he had the cutest confused look on his face.”

“Possible love interest?” Chris swirled the crimson drink in his hand and raised an eyebrow. He was being facetious, but a big part of him really did want Victor to find love.

Victor and Chris had met in grad school, and years of friendship had taught Chris that his charming best friend had an abysmal dating record. As a grade-A hottie, Victor had his choice of men, but none of them interested him enough to last longer than three months. Sure, he would mess around, go on dates, even have an occasional one-night-stand, but the prospect of a long-term relationship had never crossed his mind. For years, Victor immersed himself in his career that he had neglected life and love. As his closest friend, Chris knew that Victor needed a touch of romance in his life. The problem was whether Victor himself knew.

Victor laughed and kicked his feet up on his desk, “Possibly, if you’re up for it.”

As Victor’s trusted wing man, Chris normally would have been more than “up for it.” Chris was responsible for most, if not all, of Victor’s escapades for the past ten years. He had proudly taken credit for the good, the bad, and the ugly—literally. In recent years, however, he had been more careful about introducing men to his beautiful friend because after Victor grew tired of the relationship, Chris would be left to clean up his mess and take the blame. Victor was a nice guy. He was a caring and loyal friend, but he approached dating too methodically for his own good. Victor had always chosen his career over his relationships, and he cut through his romantic ties like a fine, sharpened blade. Victor, who was normally warm and understanding, could turn uncharacteristically cold when anyone got in the way of his work. The duality scared Chris and made him grateful that he was only capable of seeing Victor as a friend. “Sorry I made you fall in love with a workaholic sex god with commitment issues” was a line he had secretly said in his head on multiple occasions after Victor’s break-ups. So, although he enjoyed the honored title of being Victor’s wing man, he wanted to be more cautious this time around.

“Depends. Who is this mystery cutie?” Chris inquired.

“Yuri Katsuki. New adjunct professor.”

Chris pressed his glass against his lip pensively.

A new professor. Someone Chris didn’t know on a personal level. Someone who wouldn’t come crying to him after a classic Nikiforov heartbreak.

Perfect, he thought.

“Yuri…hmm, that name sounds familiar…”

“Come to think of it, he did say that he knew someone in your department.”

“Oh, right! Phichit was telling me about him!”

“Phichit? You mean the guy with hamsters in his office?”

“Yup, that’s the one. I ran into him over the summer, and we talked over coffee.”

“What did he say about Yuri?” Victor tried not to seem too eager, but he needed to learn more about his new colleague, especially if he wanted to make a move.

“Well, they met in college. I think he used to be a writer. He went by an alias, but Phichit wouldn’t tell me what is was. Apparently, it’s a touchy subject.”

“Yeah, he didn’t seem happy to talk about it.”

Victor recalled Yuri’s reaction when they talked about his writing. He sensed him withdraw back into himself. It was like a defense mechanism cautioning him not to ask too many questions. He didn’t understand why Yuri was so secretive about his past. Victor, too, had gotten his share of negative reviews and comments about his work, but nothing so terrible as to make him feel sad or ashamed.

“Hmm, an ex-writer with a secret identity and a dark past,” Chris mused. “Interesting. Shall we do some digging?”

Chris got up from the couch and made his way behind Victor’s desk as he took out his laptop. The two of them hunched over the screen as Chris typed “Yuri Katsuki” into the search box. The first hit on Google was an article Yuri had written on Japanese literature during the Meiji Period. Chris and Victor read through the abstract, and while it seemed like a perfectly decent article, it wasn’t exactly the scandalous discovery they had hoped for.

After scrolling through countless Yuri Katsuki Facebook profiles and a few more academic journals, Chris stumbled upon a link to a Sub-Reddit page titled Eros Fandom. Chris clicked on the link, which took them to a forum that only had a handful of subscribers. The two of them scrolled through some very heated and colorful discussions regarding what seemed to be a series of books that neither of them had read. There was some discussion about plot, character development, but more importantly…

“Oh my,” Chris chuckled, “it seems like we’ve inadvertently found ourselves on the dark side of the internet.”

The two fascinated professors read carefully through a thread of comments debating the author’s depiction of a very racy scene. Some found the writing “vanilla” and “uninspired,” quite unmoved by the author’s choice of the missionary position instead of something more experimental. On the other hand, some found it “refreshingly innocent” and “realistic.” One forum participant was particularly impressed by the author’s portrayal of emotions; not to mention the author’s description of one character’s—

“Erection,” Chris said out loud.

“What?”

Chris pointed to the screen. “I think this guy meant to type ‘erection’ instead of ‘election.’ Classic typo. I do it all the time,” Chris shrugged.

Victor, immune to Chris’ comments, noted the typo and continued reading.

“What does Yuri have to do with all of this?” Victor asked, growing slightly impatient of their wild goose chase.

“Maybe he’s secretly into erotic novels?”

Victor recommended that they use the word search feature. They probably should have done that in the first place, but Chris would never miss out on an opportunity to read about smutty fiction.

Chris typed Yuri’s name into the search bar. Only one entry came up. The post was captioned Eros Meet and Greet, and below it was a picture of a man sitting behind a table signing copies of books. At first glance, Victor almost didn’t recognize him, but looking closely, he was certain it was Yuri—without his blue-framed glasses, dark hair neatly slicked back. Confused, Chris and Victor scrolled down to read the comments.

 

| Eroticalover69: Got to meet Eros himself today!

| Coolguyricky: The man behind the magic!

|Eroticalover69: Such a sweetheart! He signed all my copies! Really hope he comes out with more material soon.

|Coolguyricky: He’s on hiatus, so don’t get your hopes up.
Btw, anyone else wonder what Eros’ real name is?

|weebteam9000: Might be this guy?
<http://www.facebook.com/yuri.katsuki>
We have a mutual friend on Facebook, and I thought he looked really familiar.
Also, how’d you get that photo? They never let people take pictures at his events…probably for privacy reasons since he’s basically writing glorified word porn.

|Eroticalover69: WOAH that looks EXACTLY like Eros (a little dorkier though).
Oh, I took a sneaky shot while security wasn’t looking ;)

 

“Now this is newsworthy.” Chris, satisfied with his amateur detective work, crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned back on the wall behind him with a giant smirk across his face. “I can see why he wanted to hide it. Not sure how Yakov would react knowing that the new hire has such a filthy repertoire.”

Victor didn’t know how to react either. Could it really be true that the adorable, easily-flustered, puppy-eyed angel that walked into his life that morning was an erotic novelist? Not that Victor was complaining. Truthfully, he was slightly—no, extremely—turned on by the idea. He liked the thought of seemingly-innocent Yuri having an alter-ego that orchestrated sex scenes in his head. Even better, he liked the thought of bringing Yuri’s fantasies to life. He wondered what sorts of steamy situations they could reenact, and even though Victor wasn’t expecting to sleep with Yuri any time soon, he made a mental note to stop by the bookstore and do some light Eros reading in his spare time.

“Not quite what I was expecting when he said he used to be a writer,” Victor admitted.

“No, this is much better! Now you just have to figure out your first move…if you haven’t already made one.”

Chris was well aware that Victor’s charm could easily be mistaken for flirting. Indeed, there was a fine line between the two, and Victor enjoyed crossing it. Flirting was a game that Victor liked to play, and the beginning—the excitement of the chase—was his favorite part. Chris sometimes felt guilty for encouraging his behavior. Chris didn’t have the cleanest track record himself, but he knew better than to lead someone on, and he knew how to let someone down easy. Victor, on the other hand, could use a lesson or two about relationship and break-up etiquette.

A few years ago, Chris’ even sat Victor down for drinks to discuss his destructive tendencies, but any advice he gave, Victor met with a nonchalance that drove Chris up the wall. Chris continued to push, eventually hitting Victor’s last nerve. Six gin and tonics deep, and the argument had devolved into a drunken screaming match that resulted in the two men being escorted out by security. That was the one fight Chris and Victor had in their years of friendship.

After that, Chris was convinced that Victor needed to learn his lesson the hard way, and all he could do was be there for him when he finally does. In the meantime, he intended to continue playing the role of wingman and enjoy the ride while it lasted.

“Don’t worry, I was subtle enough,” Victor reassured. “Didn’t want to scare him away.”

“Well, maybe Yuri would have been scared, but I’m sure Eros can handle something a little...bolder,” Chris winked.

“What do you want me to do? Sit in his office naked?”

“I mean, if you’re willing—”

“Hard pass on sexual harassment,” Victor shook his head. “Give me another suggestion.”

“Fine. Give me your phone.”

Chris held out his palm, and Victor obliged. Chris took out his own phone and searched for Phichit’s number. He planned to text Phichit through Victor’s phone to get more inside information, but before he could get to Victor’s messages, the phone unlocked to reveal the sunset selfie Victor had taken before he barged in.

“And here I thought was the narcissist."

“What? It’s a good picture. It demands an equally good caption.”

Just then, Chris thought of a brilliant idea.

“Do you know if Phichit follows you on Instagram?”

“Umm, I think so.”

“Perfect.” Without further delay, Chris began typing a caption to accompany the masterful selfie. “Ta-da!”

Chris held the screen up to Victor’s face.

Victor read the caption, incredulous. “You really think that’s going to work? He’s probably not going to see it.”

“It’s Phichit. I’d bet good money that he’s on Instagram right now. He’ll definitely see it, and once he does, so will Yuri.”

“Okay, so he sees it. Then what?”

Chris smirked and finished off what was left of his wine, “Then the next time you see him, you personally make sure that he gets the message, loud and clear.”

Chapter 3: Crying Over Spilled Coffee

Summary:

The one where liquid courage comes in the form of a caffeinated beverage.

ALSO, If you don't follow me on Tumblr and haven't already seen them, here are some incredible CH 1 artsss from Mari-or and Luna (AKA sweetest artists ever). I cry every time I see them ; o;

Find them here and here

Chapter Text

The first Monday of the new school year brought a sense of renewed vitality. The campus buzzed with doe-eyed college freshmen and veteran seniors recharged from summer vacation and ready to take on another semester. Even Yuri could feel the energy. He felt good. He felt ready. 

The previous night, Yuri had made sure to sleep by 9 p.m. and set six consecutive alarms. He woke up feeling revitalized from the combination of his nine-hour nap and his restful sleep. That morning, he ran five miles, showered, and even ironed his clothes, which he only did on special occasions. Today was certainly no ordinary day; it was his first official day as Professor Katsuki, but also his first day seeing Victor after their chaotic meeting the day before. Yuri did not want to admit that he wanted to look good for a man. He thought it was far too cliché and desperate, and yet, there he was, ironing his khakis to please Victor. He even decided to ditch the sweater vest after Phichit’s tirade about how a man like Victor needed a partner to equal his GQ-worthy style.

More importantly, Phichit pointed out that Yuri needed to make a decision. Victor had made a move, and as much as Yuri insisted that it was some sort of joke that neither of them got, he knew that wasn’t the case. Accordingly, Yuri had two options: dodge Victor’s advances and establish professional boundaries, or flirt back and, as Phichit put it, “buy a one-way ticket to pound town.” Phichit suggested the latter. He also jokingly suggested that Yuri channel his inner Elle Woods and do the classic bend-and-snap. Yuri entertained the idea for a moment knowing that he had the ass to pull it off, but he also knew he wouldn’t have the courage or confidence to see it through. Instead, the two decided that it would be best to let things happen naturally. All Yuri had to do was look good, be his adorable self, and wait. After all, socializing, much less flirting, was not his strong suit.

After a short self-motivational pep talk in front of the mirror, Yuri made his way to campus, arriving with plenty of time to spare before the meeting. After entering the department, he walked toward the conference room, a large corner space with glass walls that gave him a full view of his new colleagues. He recognized Yakov from his interview, but the rest were yet unknown to him. He scanned the long table hoping to see a familiar silver-haired figure. No luck. As he reached for the door, he spotted an empty seat next to a black-haired man looking much too forlorn for the first day of school.  

“I wouldn’t sit there if I were you.”

Yuri jumped upon hearing the low whispery voice in his right ear. He let out a small yelp and turned his head to find Victor’s face mere inches away from his own. His blue eyes and heart-shaped smile overwhelmed his senses. Yuri could feel the blood rush to his cheeks, and he looked away hoping that Victor wouldn’t notice.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” Victor laughed. “I saw you eyeing that seat next to Georgi and thought I should warn you. He’s going through a breakup, and he’s not taking it well, so he’ll probably be sulking through the whole meeting.”

“Oh, umm, thanks for the heads up,” Yuri said, still red from the unexpected close-up encounter.

“You can sit next to me if you’d like. I snagged a spot by that corner over there.”

Before Yuri could say anything, Victor was already holding the door open for him. As they entered, everyone quieted down as Department Chair Yakov Feltsman called the room to order. Victor led the way and pulled out Yuri’s chair for him before setting his cup of coffee down and taking a seat.

“Good morning,” Yakov greeted the professors and stood in front of the room, tall and mean-faced. He was a dominating figure. “I hope everyone’s had a chance to look over today’s agenda. We can start with student feedback from last semester…”

Yuri quickly skimmed through the agenda: course schedules, curriculum planning, committee assignments. Nothing out of the ordinary. As Yakov droned on about evaluation results, Yuri’s gaze drifted over to Victor’s hands, the right one gently holding up the sheet of paper, the left one rested on top of his right forearm. His pupils traced the ridges of Victor’s knuckles, fascinated by the translucence of his skin. He was especially fixated on Victor’s ring finger, which, much to Yuri’s relief, still lacked a ring. After their first meeting, Yuri thought it had to be a fluke. Maybe he had forgotten his ring at home that day, or maybe he didn’t like wearing jewelry to work. Even after being so openly and obviously flirted with, he was certain that someone like Victor had received his fair share of proposals. Having the misfortune of being both a creative writer and a hopeless romantic, Yuri had a tendency to fantasize about proposals and marriage. He had scared off a few partners that way, so he learned to stop himself from getting too carried away or saying something reckless. This time, however, he allowed himself to indulge in the thought, letting the “what ifs” fill his headspace.

Victor looked over at Yuri, whose was gaze distant and smile faint. He looked beautiful, he thought. He wondered what he was thinking and whether he was thinking about him. Victor’s own mind had thought of nothing but Yuri since their meeting. He hadn’t dated anyone in over a year since he left for St. Petersburg, so perhaps the dry spell was starting to get the best of him. Still, it was unusual for him to take interest in someone so quickly. Victor was drawn to Yuri, and he attributed his fixation to mere timing.

Victor had come to the conclusion that Yuri came at the perfect time. Victor had returned from sabbatical hoping to regain the old spark he felt when he first started his career, but when reality fell short of his expectations, he began feeling what he could only describe as emptiness. He had survived all these years without a serious romance, but he couldn’t imagine a day without his work. Literature was Victor’s one love. It was his lifeblood, and feeling that passion burn out of him was almost debilitating. It made it harder to find joy in his work, and it made it harder to get up every morning and face a lecture hall full of students waiting for their professor to inspire them.

So, when Yuri walked into his office, Victor felt lucky. Even though inspiration was lacking in his career, he could distract himself with someone new until inspiration returned. At the very least, Yuri gave him something to look forward to.

Then the next time you see him, you personally make sure that he gets the message, loud and clear.

Chris made it sound easy. As if mixing work and love was ever easy. Victor’s past experience had taught him otherwise, but maybe dating a fellow professor would be different. Surely, someone in the same profession would understand the demands of his work. Surely, he wouldn’t take it personally if he ultimately chooses work over love when the time comes. 

In any case, Victor decided that he would cross that bridge when (not if) he gets there. For now, he would take Chris’ advice and be bolder.

As the meeting continued, Victor nudged his notebook closer to Yuri and began writing discreetly on the top-right corner of the blank page.

Hi.

Yuri snapped out of his daydream and forced back a smile when he read the simple message. He mirrored Victor, nudging his own notepad closer to him and writing back in response.

Hey.

Zoning out in your first meeting?

Yuri blushed, slightly embarrassed that Victor had caught him. Thank goodness he couldn’t read his mind, which was filled with thoughts of marriage and domestic bliss.

Was it noticeable?

I’m very observant.

It dawned on Yuri that Victor had been looking at him, just as he had been looking at Victor. As much of a wallflower as Yuri could be, he did enjoy the right kind of attention from the right kind of people. After all, he was hopeless romantic, and Victor with all his charm was the stuff of dreams.

Yuri recalled his conversation with Phichit, and even though they had agreed on letting Victor do the hard work of flirting and making moves, Yuri figured he had nothing to lose by being more forward. Victor had already made his intentions clear, so he had no reason to fear rejection. Reassured, Yuri wrote back.

So, you were staring at me?

The response took Victor by surprise. He turned to Yuri, who intentionally turned away and avoided eye-contact, hiding a playful smirk behind his fingers as he rested his chin on his hand. He left Victor to process the teasing question on his own, and Victor couldn’t help but admire his cheeky confidence. He was certain that Yuri had seen his Instagram post yesterday because nothing else could explain the sudden change in his demeanor. Once again, Victor would have to thank Chris for being the best wingman around.

Couldn’t help it.

The two of them exchanged playful looks. Yuri bit his bottom lip to suppress the smile spreading across his face, and Victor wondered how exhilarating it would be to sink his own teeth into it.

Oblivious to Victor’s admiration, Yuri pressed on.

Why?

Because

Victor paused for a moment, his pen hovering over the paper. He wanted to tell Yuri that he was staring because he looked beautiful. To say anything otherwise would be a lie, but Victor didn’t want to push his luck too far. Instead, he settled for a softer truth. 

—I like your smile.

The massage made Yuri’s heart flutter. He didn’t know how to respond to it, just as he didn’t know how to respond to Victor’s suggestive post from the night before.

As Yuri looked down to hide the blush on his cheeks, Yakov proceeded, “Lastly, I want to welcome our newest faculty member. Professor Katsuki, please introduce yourself.”

No response.

“Professor Katsuki?”

Victor nudged Yuri with his knee under the table. Yuri looked up, confused.

“Professor Katsuki!” Yakov’s voice boomed.

It sent chills down Yuri’s spine and made him jump up from his seat. “Yes, sorry!”

“So glad you could finally join us,” Yakov said with a peeved expression. “Why don’t you introduce yourself for the rest of the staff?”

“Y-yes, of course.”

Yuri felt the attention of the room shift toward him. Embarrassed, he felt the tension crawl up from the pit of his stomach and harden into knots in his stiff shoulders. He looked down when he noticed Victor moving his notebook closer and tapping his pen on a simple massage: you got this!

“Umm, hi, everyone. I’m Yuri Katsuki. I’ll be teaching the introductory and intermediate Japanese courses. This is my first year teaching, so I’m new to all of this. I guess you can probably tell…” Yuri laughed awkwardly to fill the silence, “but anyway, I—I haven’t really met a lot of you…but everyone has been really nice and welcoming so far…especially Yakov and Victo—”

When Yuri turned and swept his hand across the table, he accidentally knocked over Victor’s cup and spilled coffee on his white shirt. Victor immediately pushed himself away from the table and let out an audible “ouch” as the hot liquid seeped through the cotton and made contact with his skin.

“O—oh my god, Victor! I—I’m…I’m so sorry!”

Yuri shuffled around in his briefcase in a panicked search for a handkerchief, napkins, or really anything that could help him out of this mess. A few professors had already gathered around to offer help, fetching paper towels and wiping down the table.

“It’s okay, Yuri, I’m fine!” Victor smiled and placed a reassuring hand on Yuri’s shoulder. “I’m fine, I promise. But I should probably get cleaned up.”

Victor excused himself and left the room, and everyone else returned to their seats after most of the coffee had been wiped clean.

Yakov sighed, irked by the unwanted commotion, “Moving on. Let’s finish up, then you’re all dismissed.”

Yuri quickly stumbled through the rest of his introduction, to which the room responded in a polite but lackluster applause. When the meeting ended, Yuri walked over to Victor’s office, practicing his apology in his head. How many “I’m sorry” variations can he fit into one sentence?

Victor’s door was cracked open when he arrived, and he could hear shuffling coming from inside. He slowly pushed the door open.

“Hey, Victor, I came to apolo—”

Yuri choked on his apology. Quite literally. He could feel the breath being knocked out of his chest, and no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t say another word. Before him was Victor. A very shirtless, glistening, muscular Victor. Yuri had questions, lots of them: where was his shirt? Why was he wet? What exercise regimen does he follow to get such a sexy, sculpted body? Yuri looked away out of courtesy, fighting the terrible urge to stare.

“Oh, Yuri!” Victor smiled, unphased by the fact that his newest co-worker had just walked in on him half-naked. “I guess I didn’t close the door properly. You don’t have to look away for my sake. Please, come in!”

Yuri did as told and closed the door behind him. He kept his gaze on the ground, still trying to avoid gawking. 

“Sorry about all the water. I got some ice to help with the burn, but it all melted and made a mess.”

Yuri looked up and saw the red patch of skin on Victor’s abdomen.

“That looks like it hurts…”

“Oh, please. I’ve been sunburnt worse than this. Pale skin and the beach don’t go well together. Who knew?” Victor joked to ease Yuri’s guilty mind, but the look of concern on his face remained. “It’s nothing to be worried about, really.”

Yuri looked at the burn, feeling immensely guilty for his carelessness.

“Have you tried patching it up?” Yuri inquired. “If you don’t, it might get irritated.”

Victor smiled, admittedly touched by his concern. “No, I don’t think we have a first-aid kit in the department.”

“Wait here,” Yuri said as he left the office.

When he returned, he carried with him a small a white box with a red cross prominently painted in front. He sat on the couch with his first-aid kit beside him, and Victor watched as he carefully rummaged through the box and picked out what he needed: gauze, aloe vera gel, scissors, pain killers.

“Ah, so we do have one.”

“This is mine, actually,” Yuri corrected. “I was a pretty clumsy kid, so my mother always had first-aid supplies around. I guess I picked up the habit from her.”

Victor chuckled, thinking about young Yuri coming home with a slew of scrapes and bruises from an eventful day at the playground.

After neatly laying out his supplies, Yuri gestured for the Russian man to come closer. Victor obliged and sat down next to him. Yuri placed a hand on his shoulder and lightly pushed him back on the couch.

“Umm, It’s easier for me if you lean back,” Yuri explained. 

He watched as Victor followed his instructions and adjusted himself against the plush pillows. Victor pulled his legs apart to get comfortable.

“Like this?” Victor asked.

Yuri couldn’t help but stare at the inviting space between them. What he would give to be there, kneeling down in front of Victor instead of sitting next to him. What he would give to run his hands all over his abs and chest as Victor gazed down at him with hunger.

“Umm, yeah, good uh—” Yuri was at a loss for words. He did his best to play it cool, but if his stuttering and rapidly increasing heartrate didn’t betray him, his flushed face surely would.

Victor wasn’t oblivious to the situation. He was well aware that people found him attractive, and he was especially keen when the attraction was mutual.

“You know you don’t have to do this, right?” Victor reassured. “It’s just a minor burn.”

“I—I know…but it’s the least I can do,” Yuri said adamantly.

So, without further protest, Victor stayed quiet and let Yuri work his magic. He watched as Yuri took a paper towel and patted his abs clean. He applied aloe on the affected area, running his fingers gently across the red blotch. He neatly cut and folded the sterile gauze and placed it flat over the burn, leaving enough space for the wound to breathe and heal. Yuri was earnestly going about his work, and Victor didn’t dare say a word to break his laser focus. He was almost flattered by the care and attention Yuri put into treating him.

Yuri, on the hand, was having an internal panic attack. If there was ever such a thing as “bisexual leaning toward men” panic, then that was certainly what Yuri was feeling. Sure, he could be cool and smooth on paper—he was an erotic novelist; flirting on paper was what he knew best—but hot damn nothing in his life had prepared him for this. When he wiped the water from Victor’s abs, he could feel the icy droplets dripping down the ridges of his muscles. He almost offered to lick the water off (the man was thirsty in every sense of the word!) When he applied the gel, he could feel the heat radiating from the red mark on Victor’s skin. The electric sensation flowed from his fingertips all the way down to his toes and lasted even after he finished wrapping the burn. When he finished flattening out the gauze, his hands mindlessly dipped farther down until he reached the defined “V” just above Victor’s waistline. 

“Yuri, at least buy me a drink first.” Victor looked teasingly at the poor professor, who jumped back and whose cheeks reddened to the shade of a tomato.

“I’m sorry! My mind just drifted off. I really didn’t mean to!” Yuri wanted to bury his bright red face in his hands. Victor had caught him checking out and feeling up his perfect abs, and he had no excuses. If Victor hadn’t stopped him, who knows where his curiosity would have taken him.

Victor laughed, “You don’t have to apologize. I’m just messing with you.”

Yuri gazed up at him, face still burning from embarrassment, “Well…I still feel terrible. Let me make it up to you. I can pay for a new shirt or something…”

“There’s no need. You wouldn’t believe how many white collared shirts I have in my closet!”

Yuri ignored the joke and thought hard about what else he could possibly offer to make up for burning Victor with a scalding drink.

“…But…” Victor tapped his index finger to his lips pensively, “you can buy me another coffee if your conscience is really gnawing at you.”

Victor winked, and Yuri began to suspect that Victor knew exactly what he was doing. There was no way he could have planned for Yuri spilling coffee on him, but had his wet shirtless-ness been staged? Had he known that Yuri would come to apologize and left the door open on purpose? Was this all a trap into which Yuri had so happily fallen? He ultimately decided that none of that mattered.

Victor was smooth. Very smooth. Maybe even too smooth. Phichit had warned Yuri to steer clear of fuckboys operating under the guise of Mr. Nice Guy. Yuri himself had his own horror stories of sleazy men at bars using sweet talk as an excuse to make inappropriate passes. As someone with social anxiety, he could often feel the way people looked at him. When they ran their eyes up and down with unwelcome and lascivious stares, he would writhe under his own skin. He always felt uneasy and repulsed by it.

Here, however, he didn’t feel any of that. He didn’t feel uncomfortable or tense. He didn’t feel his usual flight instincts kick in. Instead, Victor’s carefree demeanor helped the conversation flow naturally. His presence was calming, and his charisma strangely exciting.

Yuri relaxed, feeling the worry melt away like the ice slowly pooling water on Victor’s desk.

“Alright, coffee it is,” he said, chuckling at the absurdity of it all.

“Good.” Satisfied with Yuri’s answer, Victor got up and walked back to his desk. He took out a striped shirt from one of his desk drawers and pulled it over his head. “It’s too bad you’re not wearing your sweater vest today. I could’ve borrowed it.”

“Oh, my friend said it was dorky, and I was trying too hard to look the part. I’m sure it would look better on you though. If you can make water look good, a sweater vest would be easy.”

Before Yuri could catch himself, it was too late. The compliment came as a surprise to both of them.

“Well, Yuri, I’m flattered,” Victor laughed and beamed with genuine astonishment. “Had I known you would be so forward, I would have insisted on dinner instead of coffee.”

Whether or not he meant it as a joke, Yuri did not intend to let the opportunity slide. Victor’s charm was emboldening, and his flirting lit a fire inside Yuri that moved like adrenaline through his veins.

“Well…” Yuri got up and walked closer to Victor’s desk. He raked his lashes up at him, stared with his brown eyes wide, and said with all the confidence he could muster, “then let me buy you dinner, and we’ll call it even.”  

Victor’s smile widened until his cheeks began to hurt. He never thought he could be so taken by a look. He loved that look. He couldn’t say no to that look. “It’s a date.”

Chapter 4: Affection

Summary:

The one with the first date.

Thank you for the love and support you've given this fic <3 I love reading your comments and feedback! THEY KEEP ME GOING!

Heads up, I have a big exam coming up next week, so I'll be posting the next chapter preview and the next chapter two weeks late! If you're curious about law school and want to know more about my life as a law student, read on. Otherwise, enjoy the chapter!

So, the exam I'm taking next week is called the Multistate Professional Responsibility Examination (MPRE). It's basically a multiple choice ethics exam that you have to take to pass the bar. Everyone has to take it, and it's a major pain in the ass tbh, but learning professional rules is an important part of this profession, so *shrugs*

Anyway, feel free to chat on Tumblr if you want to hear more about that exciting part of my life LOL.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

“Aren’t you going a little overboard?”

“What makes you say that?” Victor walked at a slow pace on the sidewalk, taking his time to let Makkachin sniff and explore as she pleased. He precariously sandwiched his phone between his ear and his shoulder as he juggled Makkachin’s leash in one hand and a large bouquet of flowers in the other.

The call with Chris began two hours ago when Victor entered the flower shop a few blocks from his condominium. He called asking for help picking out the perfect arrangement.

“You just spent two hours at the florist, and now you’re going grocery shopping to cook for him on the first date.”

“What can I say? I’m a romantic.”

Chéri, you’re as romantic as you are straight.”

Victor feigned offense, gasping as if appalled by the comment, “Chris, you wound me. I happen to be very good at romantic gestures.”

“Being good at romantic gestures doesn’t make you a romantic.”

“Oh? What’s the difference?”

Chris sighed. He didn’t want to take the time to explain that romantic gestures, if done for the wrong reasons, could be wholly superficial and insincere. Victor could cook and buy as many expensive bouquets as he wanted, but if he couldn’t put his whole heart into a relationship, he had no real basis for calling himself a romantic. If Victor couldn’t recognize that fact on his own, he was incorrigible.

“Look, it doesn’t matter. My point is, you’re doing a lot for the first date. Aren’t you worried you’re going to give Yuri the wrong idea?”

“And what idea is that?”

“…That…you’re serious about him.”

Victor stopped in his tracks. Makkachin whined as she was pulled back on her leash. Victor hadn’t thought about what his intentions were with Yuri. In fact, he had never done that before with anyone. Chris had every right to assume that Victor wasn’t looking for anything serious. For all his past relationships, Victor always expected the affection to fade naturally and his career to take precedence. It was his default mindset, one that he had never thought to correct.

Chris’ question made Victor uneasy, but it wasn’t because the question surprised him. In fact, Chris always questioned Victor’s intentions when he started dating someone new, and Victor always fell back on the same response: he was looking to have fun. Now, the question remained the same, but for the very first time, Victor hesitated to answer.

___________________________

Later that night…

“I haven’t done this in a long time,” Yuri sighed, staring hopelessly in front of his mirror holding a cream shawl-collared sweater in one hand and a navy quarter-zip in the other. “Which one looks better?”

“Hmm, don’t you have something a little…sexier?” Phichit observed from the edge of Yuri’s bed.

After helping Victor clean up the water and paper towels, Yuri locked himself in his office and immediately texted Phichit that he “may or may not have” just asked Victor Nikiforov on a date. No more than five seconds after sending the message, he received a call from Phichit, asking him to spill the details and offering to help him get ready for the date as any good wingman would.

“We’re going to dinner, not a club.”

“Yeah, I get that, but Victor sees you in this stuff all day at work. Don’t you want to show him something different?”

“Ugh,” Yuri groaned. And tossed the sweaters in a pile of rejected outfits in the corner of his room. “This is hopeless. I don’t know what to expect. I don’t know what he expects.”

“Hot single guy in his thirties? Either he’s ready to settle down or he just wants a piece of that Katsuki ass.”  

Yuri shot his friend a stern look. Yuri wondered if Phichit would ever quit making crass comments. Not that he was particularly bothered by it, but sometimes he marveled at how he had managed to last this long in such a formal profession.

“Relax, I’m kidding. He seems like a sweet guy. I’m sure it’ll be a fun, perfectly normal date between a literary genius and a retired erotic novelist.” Phichit shrugged. 

“First of all, I’m not technically retired. Celestino told the publishers that I’m taking a break. He’s convinced I’ll make a comeback, get some new wave of inspiration or something.”

“Yeah, a wave named Victor,” Phichit said teasingly as he winked. “He’s into you, and you know it.”

As dense as Yuri was when it came to relationships, he at the very least did know that 

“Phichit, what if…” Yuri paused, turning to Phichit with dread spreading across his face. 

Concerned, Phichit sat upright. “What if what?”

“What if…he tries to kiss me?”

Phichit rolled his eyes and threw a pillow at Yuri. “You’re a grown man. You can’t seriously be that terrified of a kiss?”

“I am! You know I’m not good at this. Remember the last guy?”

Yes, Phichit did remember. Vividly. Because he was there. The entire time.

A very anxious Yuri had asked his most trusted friend to follow him on his date with a man now remembered as “tongue dude.” After finishing a painfully boring dinner, tongue dude walked Yuri back to his apartment. Phichit clandestinely followed behind. Upon reaching the apartment, Yuri thanked tongue dude and turned toward the door hoping for a fast escape, but before his keys could reach the locks, tongue dude leaned in for a kiss. Feeling bad for the guy, Yuri obliged with a small peck. Unfortunately, tongue dude would not settle for an innocent kiss and pushed his tongue into Yuri’s mouth. Startled, Yuri bit down hard in a defensive knee-jerk reaction. Tongue dude shrieked and pulled away as blood dripped down from his mouth. He left cursing unintelligibly, pressing his bleeding tongue against his shirt sleeve.

“He deserved it if you ask me.” Phichit got up from the bed and began rummaging through Yuri’s closet. “Plus, Victor’s a classy guy. He’s not going to force his tongue down your throat on the first date…unless you want him to.”

“…Well…”

Phichit immediately turned to him. “Oh my god. That’s exactly what you want, isn’t it?” 

“…Maybe…”

“Wow. Yuri Katsuki putting out on the first date? Unheard of.”

“I’ve never liked anyone enough to do anything after the first date.”

Awkward physical contact, poorly timed jokes, and the occasional dine-and-dash. Yuri felt like he’d lived every first-date nightmare in the books. Not surprisingly, those dates ended with forced hugs or cold handshakes instead of sex.

“How do you know you’re going to like him enough to sleep with him tonight? You’ve only known him for, what, two weeks?”

Apart from the fact that Victor was gorgeous beyond his wildest dreams, Yuri thought they got along well. He felt a spark, and maybe, just maybe, he thought Victor felt it too. Sure, two weeks was admittedly a short time, but Yuri had taken past partners to bed sooner than that. Hell, he’d even entered relationships and gotten his heart broken in a shorter span of time. He’d been through the worst, he thought, so really, he had nothing to lose.   

“Well, I really like spending time with him.”

“You’ve been spending time with him?”

“We’ve had lunch together.”

“How many times?”

“A few…” Yuri hesitated, “well, more like…every day.”

Phichit paused what he was doing and dramatically turned his head toward Yuri. “You mean you’ve been having lunch with Victor every day since you’ve started working?”

Yuri nodded sheepishly, face turning red. 

“Wait, is that why you keep dodging my texts when I ask you to get lunch with me?”

Yuri nodded again, trying to avoid Phichit’s glare.

“I’m hurt. Offended. Appalled, even. But,” Phichit continued, “it’s Victor Nikiforov, so I’m going to let it slide.”

“Umm, thanks?” Yuri didn’t know how to respond. Yes, he probably should have told Phichit about his lunch dates (if you can call them dates), but things were going well, and reporting every little detail to Phichit was the last thing on his mind. 

“So, you like spending time with him. Why is that?”

“I don’t know. It just feels so…easy. Like, I don’t really have to try, you know?”

“If it’s easy, then I don’t see why tonight would be any different.”

Phichit was right. He usually was when it came to these things. Phichit liked to push Yuri out of his comfort zone, whether it was in his writing or his love life. Even when things didn’t work out, as they often didn’t, Phichit always had Yuri’s back, ready to come over with a glass of wine, an open ear, and a shoulder to cry on.

“You’re overthinking it. Just let things happen on their own. But if we’re going to get you ready for some action, you should at least dress appropriately. Here, wear this.”

Phichit handed Yuri a black high-neck shirt he dug up from the depths of Yuri’s closet. It was a shirt that Yuri had purchased when he published his first book as Eros. He figured that if he was going to adopt the name, he needed to build the persona to match.

“…This is see-through,” Yuri pointed out the obvious.

“I prefer the term ‘sheer,’” Phichit said mischievously.”  Don’t worry. It’ll be dark, and you’ll be wearing a coat. He won’t be able to tell unless he gets close enough. And at that point, what you’re wearing won’t really matter.”

Yuri sighed, knowing that Phichit was probably right. If he wanted that kind of night with Victor, he needed to go out with guns blazing. Not that he was expecting anything beyond a nice dinner and maybe a goodnight kiss, but if there was ever a night to prepare for the unexpected, it was this one.

“Fine.” Yuri put on the shirt, as well as a lightweight black coat with red lining that Phichit had tossed him. He examined himself in the mirror. While the shirt was undoubtedly sheer, the black material was just dark enough to make the cream color of his skin blend nicely into the fabric. Yuri wore his contacts and his hair slicked back, at Phichit’s request, of course. The black and red gave him an extra air of sensuality that boosted his confidence. Just then, his phone chimed.

Yuri glanced at the clock. “He’s early.”

“He’s eager,” Phichit teased.

Disregarding the comment, Yuri shoved his phone into his pocket and made final adjustments in the mirror. He took a deep breath and looked to Phichit for approval.

“Looking good! Now go out there and get some Russian dick!” And with those oddly inspiring words, Yuri was off.

_______________________________________

Yuri walked out of his building and almost tripped on air when he saw Victor, leaning against his cherry red Mercedes-Benz with a giant bouquet of exquisite blue roses, rivaled only by the cool blue of his eyes.

“Are those for me?”

“No, actually these are for my date. Maybe you’ve seen him around? Good-looking professor, blue glasses, usually wears a dorky sweater vest?”

Yuri laughed and blushed, realizing that this was the first time Victor had seen him in anything besides his usual professor get-up. “Too much? I can go back in and change if you want.”

“No, no, you look…”

“…Differ—”

“—Stunning.” Victor looked at Yuri, thin fabric stretched across his torso and coat draped effortlessly over his shoulders, adding definition to his lean frame. Yuri’s soft features stood out against the sharp lines of his tailored coat and the deep reds peeking out from under it. Yuri was stunning, but he also looked more like Eros. With his hair back and glasses off, Yuri looked like the picture that he and Chris had seen two weeks ago. On his drive over, Victor thought about whether or not he should mention his alter ego. Ultimately, he decided that it would be best to let Yuri divulge that information on his own.  

Victor smiled and handed Yuri the flowers. “I wasn’t sure if people still do flowers on the first date, but the florist was very reassuring.”

“Flowers? Sure. Giant bouquets on the other hand…” Yuri’s joke, along with half of his face, was swallowed by the sheer size of the bouquet.

“Well, I don’t know much about flower arrangements, so after a few hours, I ended up getting the biggest one they had.” Victor rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, looking away for a moment to hide the blush spreading across his face.

Yuri laughed, amused at the image of Victor earnestly going about the task of picking flowers. It became clear to him that Victor had thought about this date as much, if not more, than he had. Unbeknownst to Yuri, Victor had thought about this date more than he would have liked to admit. He offered to take care of dinner plans, he offered to pick up Yuri from his apartment, and he arrived a good fifteen minutes early with over a dozen specialty blue roses after having spent his afternoon at the flower shop.

“They’re beautiful. Thank you,” Yuri smiled softly.

“I’m happy you like them. Ready?”

Victor opened the passenger door for Yuri, who ducked in and carefully placed the flowers in the back seat. After settling in, the pair drove off to their surprise destination, which Victor refused to disclose. Victor kept his hand on the gear shift, and it took Yuri all of his willpower not to reach across the center console and hold it. To keep his mind occupied, Yuri looked out the window. He noticed that they were driving away from the city. Odd, he thought, since most of the popular restaurants were in the opposite direction. After twenty minutes, Victor stopped the car on the side of a desolate road sitting at the bottom of a hill.

“We’re here!” Victor said as he popped open his trunk and exited the car.

Yuri stepped out and looked around. It was dark, except for the headlights that Victor had left on. Not a single soul in sight.

“Is this the part where you tell me that you brought me to this remote location to murder me?” Yuri said facetiously.

The possibility that Victor might actually be an American-psycho type didn’t seem too far-fetched considering his charm and good looks, not to mention the way he kept his office meticulously neat and organized. Yuri’s anxiety came with a dark sense of humor, and he thought that if he was going to die, doing so in Victor’s arms wouldn’t be a bad way to go.

Victor laughed, “I guess you could say this date is going to be killer.”

“Ah, so you’re a murderer, and your weapon of choice is bad jokes?”

“Yes, and it’s very effective. See, you’re already dying of embarrassment!”  

Yuri rolled his eyes, masking the fact that he was very much into cheesy puns, especially when layered with Victor’s subtle accent that could make reciting the alphabet sound sexy.

Victor pulled out a large wicker basket from his trunk, and the two made their way up the hill. As they approached the top, the whole city opened up, unfolding, glowing, and sparkling like a starry sky. What seemed like a small town for Yuri now seemed like an entire universe: vast and awe-inspiring.

Yuri had little time to take in the view before noticing a blanket neatly spread out across the grass, surrounded by candles that Victor was just beginning to light. Victor then pulled out a bottle of wine and containers full of rice and cuts of breaded meat from the basket. Yuri kneeled down on the blanket to help Victor set up.

“Is that katsudon? Did you make that?” Yuri inquired, his mouth watering at the sight of his favorite dish.

“Yup!” Victor smiled proudly. “I remember you told me it was your favorite! Plus, it was either this or sushi, and I didn’t want to risk giving you food poisoning.”

“As long as you promise to nurse me back to good health.”

Yuri surprised himself at how freely he felt to joke and flirt. He had even forgotten about the worries he expressed to Phichit. The past two weeks working with Victor made Yuri feel better—about speaking in front of his students, about engaging with his new colleagues, about himself. Even now, as they sat together assembling their bowls of katsudon, Yuri felt right at home.

The two of them enjoyed their meal, learning more about each other with each passing minute. Yuri talked about his family in Hasetsu. Victor talked about Makkachin and his travels. Both of them talked about their love for dogs and literature. By the time they had finished the bottle of wine, Victor had brought back a fluffy blanket from his car to shield them from the cool autumn night. The two of them huddled close, sipping on wine and looking out into the sea of lights.  

“Yuri,” Victor interrupted the comfortable silence, “I know this isn’t something you like to talk about, so please don’t feel like you have to answer, but why did you decide to stop writing?”

As they sat ensconced in the plush blanket, Yuri thought about the question.

Yuri’s writing reflected two things: his wants and his shortcomings. For Yuri, love had never come easy, but despite the heartaches and disappointments, he always chased after it. His writing reflected that struggle as plainly as it reflected his desire for romance. While his novels received mediocre reviews for their eroticism, they nonetheless spoke to the hopeless romantic in everyone. Much like him, Yuri’s characters wanted love, and that longing leapt out of the pages of his books and into the hearts of his small but dedicated fandom. Unfortunately, that wasn’t enough to please publishing companies.

“I’m not any good…and I guess I don’t know what to write about anymore.” 

“What do you usually write about?” The question slipped before Victor could catch his words. He waited in anticipation, wondering exactly how Yuri would explain the kind of writing he did.

“Umm…” Yuri looked down, noticeably avoiding eye contact. “I write about…love…I guess. Different ways of expressing it.”

That’s a clever way to put it, Victor thought. “What’s wrong with writing about love?” 

“It’s hard to explain. I know how to write about wanting love, but I don’t know how to write about actually being in love. So, I write about people trying to make love work, but most of the time I feel like I’m writing sappy stories with no substance. My books are just happy endings that don’t make sense,” Yuri sighed. “One guy at the publishing company said reading my book was like reading a desperate Nicholas Sparks.”

Unfortunately, Victor knew what that guy meant. By now Victor had finished reading Be My Sex Coach, Eros’ first novel about a college athlete who falls in love with a porn star. While the characters were endearing and relatable in many ways, the prose took a turn for the worse during more intimate scenes. The problem wasn’t the sex, it was the way the sex was written. Yuri knew how to write about desire, he was right about that, but when the pivotal moment finally came, it felt like reading a scene from an amateur porno. Awful dialogue. Forced chemistry. No trace of love to be found.

From what Victor could gather from Yuri’s writing, he had trouble with the build-up. His literary prowess was at its peak when he wrote about one-sided pining, but anything beyond that fell flat of his potential. Yuri had his characters jumping from unrequited love to what seemed like an earnest but unsuccessful attempt at writing romantic and meaningful sex. It was no wonder why the story felt awkward and unrealistic. 

Yet, there was something there; something in Yuri’s writing captivated Victor, and he wanted to help the author harness that untapped potential. He wondered whether his weaknesses were a result of his own lack of experience, or whether it was some form of fear and self-censorship. He wondered whether Yuri himself had only been in one-sided relationships and questioned how that was even possible given how wonderfully sweet and beautiful he was. If only Yuri would open up to him about it.

“Well, if there’s one thing I’ve learned from years of writing, it’s that you never take advice from someone who reads Nicholas Sparks.”

The joke brought out a chuckle and smile from Yuri.

“He’s not the only one who thinks my work is awful,” he said dejectedly.

“And so, you’re giving up on it?”

Giving up. Those words had occupied the back of Yuri’s mind for months, and yet he had never said them out loud. His leave from writing was always framed as a “hiatus” or “break,” but deep down he knew what those empty words truly meant.

“…I don’t know.” Yuri looked down, too embarrassed to admit what Victor had correctly surmised.

“Yuri, do you enjoy writing?”

“I do!” Yuri’s head shot up, ready to defend his passion for his work, which, despite it all, remained latent and burning within him.

“Then write.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Yes, it is. You’re a writer; it’s what you do,” Victor said, as if it were the most common-sensical thing in the world.

Had the comment come from any other person, Yuri would have been irked. Even though he had been writing professionally for years, he had always struggled with the process. The deadlines, the edits, the expectations. It was arduous, and yet, there was some truth to what Victor said. Writing took effort and dedication, but at the end of the day, writing was easy for Yuri because it was all he wanted to do. In that sense, returning to his writing would be the most natural thing for him. Unfortunately, Yuri lacked faith in his own ability to handle the pressure. Looking from the outside-in, his decision to pursue academia would seem like the easier, safer choice. For Yuri, however, that decision—the decision to turn away from his dream—was one of the hardest he had ever made.

“Plus,” Victor continued to push, “you’re a professor and a published author. You have the skills to succeed. Why can’t you make it happen?”

“Well...it’s not easy writing about something you don’t know anything about.”

“What do you mean? Like, you’ve never been in love?”

Yuri blushed and buried his chin further into his knees to hide his embarrassment. He said nothing, refusing to admit his romantic failures out loud. Yuri had dated other men before, but the fantasy always far exceeded the reality. Yuri suffered from a common condition that plagued many hopeless romantics: falling in love with the idea instead of the person. Yuri had high hopes each time he entered a relationship, and each time those expectations were not met, his anxiety took hold, telling that he was unloved and unlovable.

Yuri never responded, but his expression said it all. Victor paused for a few seconds before finally speaking.

“Neither have I.”

Yuri turned to Victor, surprised and slightly incredulous. “Oh” was all he could muster.

Victor laughed, “Does that surprise you?”

Yuri nodded. Of course, it surprised him. Men like Victor didn’t have relationship woes, at least not in Yuri’s mind.

“Have you…dated other people before?” Stupid question, Yuri thought. Of course, Victor had dated other people before. Countless, probably.  

“I have, but for better or for worse, I’ve dedicated most of my life to my work. Love just wasn’t a top priority for me.”

Victor tried to force a smile, but Yuri sensed a deeper pain that lingered in his words. His eyes were shades darker. The calm oceanic blue had turned into a stormy violet. Perhaps it was a reflection of the dark night, but they undoubtedly revealed a look of loneliness. Yuri recognized it instantly because he knew it all too well.

Yuri kept his empathetic gaze on Victor and asked, “What about now?”

The question brought Victor back to his conversation with Chris earlier that day. After he hung up the phone, questions ran endlessly through his mind: What were his intentions with Yuri? Was he just another way to pass the time between writing articles and teaching? Another name soon to be forgotten? Instead of trying to answer them, Victor tried to suppress his thoughts.

A few hours ago, “uneasiness” and “discomfort” were the only words Victor could conjure up to describe how he felt about the prospect of a serious relationship. But being with Yuri ignited something in him. Perhaps it was the sincerity with which he spoke and wrote about love. Perhaps it was the way he gazed up at Victor with such longing and promise. Whatever it was, something about Yuri transformed those troubling emotions into something warm and wholly unfamiliar to Victor: affection.

With this realization, Victor smiled gently. He looked at Yuri, whose brown eyes reflected amber from the candlelight. He felt his heart melt into the warmth of his presence, and without a second thought, he said, “Now is different.”

Victor lifted his hand and ran his thumb across Yuri’s cheek, cold from the autumn air. His fingers traced Yuri’s jawline before stopping at the bottom of his chin, lifting his face up to meet his. Yuri looked down at Victor’s lips, slightly parted, before meeting his gaze again in invitation. Both leaned in closer and closed their eyes, touching foreheads and savoring each breath that brought them closer, inch by inch.

Yuri could feel the anticipation building inside him. He closed in until their noses accidentally touched, which drew soft laughter out of both of them. They blinked their eyes open and gazed at each other.

“Can I kiss you?” Victor whispered low into the sliver of space between them.

Yuri smiled shyly, which was all the consent Victor needed. Victor took Yuri’s face in both hands, cradling it as if something precious. Yuri closed his eyes as Victor leaned in, but to his surprise, Victor only grazed his lips briefly before tilting his head up to kiss to his forehead. And then his nose. And then his cheek. He lingered for a moment at each spot. Yuri could feel his exhales warm his skin and fuel his desire. He could smell Victor’s cologne as the light breeze carried the subtle and intoxicating scent. Never before had he wanted to kiss and be kissed with a fiery passion that made his heart ache out of want. Yuri’s patience had run its course, and without a second thought, he raked his hands through Victor’s hair and pulled him in for a deep, long and burning kiss.

For Victor, leaning into that kiss was like falling into a pool of honey, like sinking into pure warmth and sweetness. Yuri’s lips were soft and giving despite the initial force of the pull. The newfound affection he felt coursed through his body and made his heart flutter. Victor sighed into the kiss, deepening with breath. He loved the way Yuri ran his fingers through his hair, the way his soft, wet tongue brushed and tangled with his, the way he moaned softly with every caress. He could feel himself losing control, allowing his hands to roam the length of Yuri’s back. His fingers trembled as he tucked them beneath the hem of Yuri’s shirt and made contact with his skin. Victor attributed it to the cold, but truthfully, Victor was a happy mix of excited and nervous. He hadn’t felt nervous about intimacy since his first time as an inexperienced teenager in Russia. It was exhilarating in a way that was simultaneously new and familiar, and he relished in the heat building fast between them.

In an instant, the slow kiss turned into something more primal. Yuri didn’t know what came over him. Perhaps it was the alcohol, or the way Victor had handled him with so much care. He was too far gone, too engrossed in Victor’s touch to think straight. All he knew was what he wanted, and what he wanted was Victor. He kissed, and Victor kissed back. He pushed his tongue into Victor’s mouth, and Victor did the same. He wanted to know what else Victor would be willing to return.

The blanket had long since fallen off, exposing them to the cold air. Neither seemed to care, too captivated by each other to even notice. Yuri pushed himself forward, causing Victor to fall back on his forearms. He positioned himself between Victor’s legs, one knee pushing and grinding against Victor’s hardening cock. Yuri tore away from the kiss for a moment, savoring the sight of Victor, an absolute wreck beneath him: hair in shambles, lips red and plump, cheeks flushed. Yuri smiled triumphantly.

This boy is not innocent, Victor thought.

Victor barely had a chance to catch his breath before Yuri was kissing him again. There was a greediness and desperation to his movements. He tore open the first few buttons of Victor’s shirt and ran his hands across his firm chest. It was a contagious and uncontrollable desire. Each time Yuri’s knee brushed against his cock, his hips bucked forward, chasing after that delicious pressure. The heat of each touch moved through his body and pooled at the base of erection. Victor grabbed Yuri’s shoulders and pushed him away for a moment, giving him enough time unbutton and unzip his jeans. He turned his head in either direction to ensure that there would be no unwanted interruptions. He pulled his pants and underwear down, feeling a sense of relief as his cock sprang free from its restraints.

In front of him, Yuri had taken off his coat, the sheer material of his shirt even more apparent. Victor tried not to drool at the way Yuri’s semi-transparent shirt exposed the outlines of his lean body. Yuri slowly crawled toward Victor in all fours, stopping to give him a sweet, lingering kiss before undoing the rest of the buttons on his shirt. Victor shivered from the cold air, but his focus was on Yuri, who was moving his lips slowly downward from his neck, to his chest, to his stomach, leaving a trail of kisses along the way. Yuri stopped just above his waistline and looked up at him.

“Condom?”

Victor looked confused for a moment, too fired up to comprehend the question immediately.

“Uh…” Victor smacked his palm against his forehead. “No. I didn’t bring any. I didn’t—well, I wasn’t expecting…this.”

Dammit. Victor was usually prepared, but he really hadn’t expected to get hot and heavy on top of a hill, in the outdoors, no less.

Yuri pushed himself up to a seat and smiled as he watched Victor, clothes still undone, looking equal parts devastated and still very much turned on. He was kicking himself for that mistake, and Yuri found that oddly endearing. He couldn’t help but laugh, and after a second of confusion, Victor joined in, resigning himself to the reality that he would have to wait a little while longer to experience that side of Yuri again.

“I’ll be more prepared next time, I promise,” Victor said as he stood up to get properly dressed.

Yuri followed suit and slipped one arm at a time into his coat. “Bold of you to assume there’s a next time,” he joked.

“Of course, there is! You still haven’t bought me dinner to make up for spilling coffee on me. That guarantees me at leastone more date.”

“I see, so this picnic was part of a greater scheme to ask me out on a second date?”

“Astute as always.” Victor smiled and stepped forward to give Yuri a quick kiss on the cheek.

Yuri blushed, which Victor found amusing after everything that had just transpired between them. But that was part of what drew him to Yuri. He could be shy, bold, and everything in between, and Victor looked forward to exploring all those sides of him.

After packing up and making the short downhill walk, Yuri and Victor drove in comfortable silence. Yuri looked out the window, mind distant and dreamy, until he felt a pull on his left arm. Victor had reached over and taken his hand. It was as if he had read Yuri’s mind, as if he had sensed how much Yuri wanted to reach over and do the same. Their fingers slowly intertwined. Victor moved their hands up to his lips, kissing Yuri’s knuckles individually and smiling at him from the corner of his mouth. Yuri wanted that drive to last forever.

________________

When they arrived back at Yuri’s apartment, Victor walked Yuri to the door.

“I had a great time tonight,” Yuri said with his face half-covered by the bouquet that Victor had given him earlier. His words were sincere despite the fact that he was trying to conceal the full extent of his happiness. He tried not to smile too wide when Victor wrapped his arm around his shoulder, or when he brushed back the strands of hair that had fallen on Yuri’s face, or when he playfully said that Yuri was the tastiest pork cutlet bowl he’d ever laid eyes on. 

“I did too, really. I’m happy you’re letting me take you out again.”

Victor meant that too. He couldn’t remember the last time he enjoyed a date that didn’t end with sex. He had grown so used to instant, physical gratification that he had almost forgotten what it felt like to have fun during the actual date instead of after it. Admittedly, this was the most excitement Victor had felt about the prospect of the second date. The feeling was entirely new to him.

“Technically it’s my turn to take you out, remember?”

“Well, if you need date ideas, I’m a big fan of pirozhkis,” Victor joked.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Yuri chuckled. “Goodnight, Victor.”

“Goodnight, Yuri.”

Victor leaned over the bouquet for one last kiss, soft and warm. Waving to Yuri as he turned the corner of the hallway, Victor walked back to his car and drove home.

Yuri walked into his apartment and leaned his back against the closed door. He held both hands to his chest, feeling his heart drumming joy inside of him. He felt ridiculously happy, more so than he had felt in a long time. Yuri liked Victor, too much for comfort, but he didn’t mind. At that moment, he felt a flurry of emotions that made him feel so light, like he could float away at any moment. He couldn’t put the feeling into words.

It was a butterflies-in-your-stomach excitement.

It was a heart-pounding giddiness that could make him trip over himself and fall head over heels.

Yuri could feel the buzzing in his head, a mix of the wine and the heat that lingered on his lips. He needed to process everything. He needed to make sense of it, or at the very least set his dazed mind straight. He didn’t know what else to do, so he did what he knew best: he wrote.

 

Notes:

Maybe some of you noticed, but I referenced Lucycamui's fanfic "Be My Sex Coach, Victor" later in the chapter.

Just FYI, even though Eros' writing may fall flat of his readers' expectations, Lucy's DOES NOT! The reference wasn't made to disparage her work in any way, so I hope none of you took it to mean that! In fact, you all should go read her fic if you haven't already! <3

Chapter 5: Stay the Night

Summary:

The one where they have dinner AND dessert ;)

You all thought I was dead, huh? Still here. Still kickin'. Still in law school (but not for long!)
I graduate in May, which is BONKERS. Thank you for being with me through my journey of writing smutty fic instead of reading for class.

Chapter Text

Two months had passed since Victor and Yuri’s first date, and the warm feeling still lingered in Yuri’s chest, making him blush at the worst moments (like in the middle of a lecture in front of fifty students, for example). They had attempted to plan another date on multiple occasions, but midterm exam season had eaten up most of their free time. Yuri didn’t mind, however, seeing as they continued to have lunch every workday without fail. He looked forward to their lunches more than anything, and even though they were often interrupted by phone calls or last-minute meetings on Victor’s end, he treasured those thirty-or-so minutes every day that he got to spend alone with him. In the short span of two months, he felt like he had known Victor for a lifetime. He knew things he was certain nobody else did: that Victor kept journals and wrote in them every night before bed, that he loved ballet and figure skating almost as much as he loved literature, that he adopted Makkachin when he was younger because he was feeling very much alone. Similarly, Victor made an impression on Yuri’s heart in a way that would have taken any ordinary person years.

The two of them gradually chipped away at each other’s facades, slowly revealing their truer, more sincere selves. And they were so, genuinely happy.

It was Friday, and Yuri was the only one left in the department. He worked slowly, still getting accustomed to balancing lectures, grading, and publishing articles. As Yuri sat in his office laboring away at his students’ midterm papers, the thought of Victor intermittently popped into his mind. He still hadn’t made good on his promise to take Victor out to dinner. He knew they were long overdue for another real date, and he often stopped to daydream about what that date would look like. It gave him something to look forward to, and it kept him sane after correcting the same grammatical errors over, and over, and over, and over again. After the last of the papers were marked, Yuri decided that he needed to make a move.

5:15 p.m. Hey, are you busy tomorrow night?

Yuri realized that he and Victor hadn’t really gotten into the habit of texting. There was no need seeing as they saw each other almost every day. In the few messages exchanged between them, Yuri had never initiated conversation, and although he had grown more comfortable interacting in person, there was something about sending the first text that still made him nervous.

5:15 p.m. Yuri!

Not even a minute had passed. Faster than expected.

5:15 p.m. Taking Makka to the park at 4, but I’ll be home by 6!

5:17 p.m. Would you like to come over for dinner?

He read the message over again. Was it too forward? Was it too casual? Was it too—

5:18 p.m. I’m all yours ♥

Yuri blushed at the response, his heart fluttering in his chest. He celebrated in the privacy of his office, clutching his phone close, spinning in his chair, and smiling the happiest, dorkiest smile. His internal squealing was interrupted when a lost freshman knocked at his door to ask for directions. Yuri hoped that the freshman hadn’t seen him twirling around like a fool, but by the disgusted look on the boy’s face, the chances of that were zero to none. The freshman, a blonde, green-eyed kid, glared at Yuri, clearly growing impatient at the poor professor’s inability to articulate simple directions. Yuri decided to draw up the directions on a post-it, which proved easier for both parties. Once he got what he came for, the freshman squinted his eyes suspiciously at the flustered professor before walking away. It was only natural; the kid probably thought he was insane.

Yuri shrugged off the encounter and turned his attention to his response.

5:25 p.m. Does 7 work?

5:25 p.m. Perfect! See you then!

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________

Victor walked down the hallway toward Yuri’s apartment. Last time he was here, the two of them had just returned from a successful first date (and an almost successful attempt at third base). The memory was etched into Victor’s mind—Yuri pushing him down; Yuri taking off his coat to grace him with a perfect view of his body under his sheer, tight shirt; Yuri scattering soft kisses in just the right places. The images popped into his mind, usually late at night or early in the morning when the line between dream and reality was still hazy. He wanted him that night, more so than he’d wanted anyone before, and more than he liked to admit. He knew he was in trouble when he declined a last-minute offer to speak on a panel on Eastern European literature in favor of accepting Yuri’s dinner invitation. It was unlike him. Very unlike him. And yet, when the text from Yuri lit up his phone screen, the choice was clear.

Victor had been waiting for another opportunity to spend time with Yuri outside of work. He enjoyed his company, his laughter, his conversation. Of course, the possibility of hooking up with him again also crossed his mind. It didn’t help that the Monday after their first date, the two of them had a conversation about getting tested. Victor, who had gone through multiple partners, got tested multiple times a year. Yuri hadn’t gotten tested since he ended his last relationship. They both agreed to visit a clinic to be safe. Victor took this conversation to mean that they were on the same page about physical intimacy (not that Yuri didn’t already make it clear during their date), but having a conversation about safety reassured him.

Victor reached the front door and rang the doorbell.

Clatter, crash, bang!

Victor stood back as he heard a din and hurried footsteps making their way toward the door. The door swung open, and the heavy scent of smoke filtered out into the hallway. Victor was greeted by a flustered Yuri, glasses crooked, flour dusted all over his apron, and an oven mitt on his right hand.

“Hi,” Victor chuckled.

“Hi,” Yuri responded timidly, “so…about dinner…”

Yuri opened the door wider, inviting Victor inside the apartment.

“I think we might need to order take-out,” Yuri said nervously. He rubbed the back of his neck, worried about Victor’s reaction to the state of the kitchen.

Once inside, Victor took slow steps, observing the details of Yuri’s apartment. Unbeknownst to Yuri, Victor was feeling just as nervous as he was. Even though they had spent the past two months getting closer with each lunch date, Yuri had never made such a forward gesture as inviting Victor over (well, assuming the heavy make-out session on top of a hill wasn’t a “gesture”). Victor sat at his desk at home yesterday debating whether he should pack extra clothes, just in case. He didn’t want to be presumptuous. He didn’t want to make the bold assumption that Yuri’s invitation for dinner included an invitation to stay the night. As much as he liked the idea of falling asleep and waking up next to him, the last thing he wanted was to do was push Yuri too far.

When he finally made his way around the corner, he witnessed the extent of the chaos, and he did his best to repress the laughter bubbling up from his chest. The wooden floor was almost completely covered in flour, except for the gray lumps of charred dough protruding out from the powdery white layer. Yuri’s laptop was perched on a stool and opened on a recipe from a food blog. Victor squinted his eyes to read the text.

“Were you trying to make pirozhkis?” he asked.

“You said you liked them,” Yuri explained. “You cooked for me, so I figured I would return the favor and surprise you.”

In addition to their first date, Victor had mentioned pirozhkis to Yuri a few more times. He had told Yuri how much he missed his family in Russia, and that he’d been craving homemade pirozhkis for quite some time since they reminded him of home. He also mentioned that he had been far too busy to make them on his own. Yuri finally settled on the idea of making the Russian dish when he read reviews about how quick and easy it was to bake. As a rookie in the kitchen, “quick and easy” was all he needed to hear.

Unfortunately for Yuri, he had forgotten to set a timer for the oven in the midst of the excitement and nerves. Victor would be visiting his apartment for the first time. What would he think? Would he think he was a slob because of the small wine stain on the couch? Would he think he was too dorky for having a puppy calendar on the coffee table?

After cleaning the same spot on the rug for the hundredth time and pacing around the living room for what seemed like an eternity, Yuri only remembered to check on the pirozhkis when the smoke detector began beeping. His eyes widened at the realization, and he rushed to the kitchen praying that he could scrape off the burnt bits and salvage the rest. Alas, that was not the case. To say that the dish was well-done would have been an understatement. The whole tray came out looking like Yuri had made the naughty list, and Santa had swung by to give him his lumps of coal for Christmas.

As Yuri carefully removed the hot tray from the oven, the shrill doorbell made him jump and drop the metal tray. Pieces of burnt pirozhkis littered the floor. Panicked, Yuri reached for the paper towels by the sink, knocking over the bag of flour in the process.

“Well, I’m certainly…surprised.” Victor cleared his throat, straining to keep himself from smiling too wide or bursting out in laughter. He was careful not to make Yuri feel ashamed because there was really nothing to be ashamed of. He didn’t mind the mess because he loved the idea of amateur chef Yuri cooking his favorite comfort food.

“I—I’m sorry…I should have just ordered some from a Russian restaurant or something. They probably would have tasted better anywa—”

Before Yuri could finish his rambling, Victor shut him up with a quick kiss on the lips. Yuri blushed. The two of them hadn’t done anything physically intimate since the first date. There was an unspoken agreement between them that it was best to keep their budding relationship on the down low at work. They were already treading the line of inappropriate professional conduct by dating, and they didn’t want to run the risk of an official scolding from Yakov.

“Thank you,” Victor said. “Really, it’s the sweetest thing anyone’s done for me.”

“What? Ruin dinner?”

“No, make something so thoughtful.”

Victor was beginning to understand what Chris meant when he said romantic gestures don’t make you a romantic. Victor had gotten countless lavish gifts from his ex-boyfriends—Rolex watches, Cartier bracelets, tropical getaways—but none of them meant as much to him or made him as happy as Yuri’s sincere efforts to make him something special, even if it did end up a mess on the kitchen floor.

“Why don’t we start over?” Victor suggested. “I can help you. I used to help my grandmother make them all the time when I was a kid.”

Yuri’s face lit up. “Yeah, I’d love that.”

Victor walked into the kitchen, careful not to disturb the white dust that had already settled. Yuri followed and picked up the nearly-empty bag of flour.

“I don’t think we have enough flour for another batch,” Yuri said defeatedly.

“Hmm, why don’t we ask you neighbors?”

“What? No, they don’t even know who I am.”

“But Americans do it all the time, right? On TV, they’re always going around asking their neighbors for a cup of sugar.”

“This isn’t the 1950s,” Yuri snorted, but before he could protest further, Victor was already speed walking his way to the door, leaving a trail of white footprints behind him.

Yuri dashed ahead, sliding in front of Victor to block the exit. He grabbed the knob with his hand and stood in a wide-legged stance with his back against the door.

“No,” Yuri tried to say as firmly as he could, but the smirk on his face said something different.

Victor squinted his eyes at Yuri as if accepting his challenge, and after a brief pause, Victor moved in and grabbed him by his sides in an attempt to lift him out of the way. Yuri didn’t go down without a fight. He kicked his legs and tried to wiggle his way out of Victor’s grip. When he felt his feet touch the ground, he squealed as Victor started tickling him instead. He squirmed and turned his back to him, but Victor caught him by the waist and pulled him closer.

“Stop, stop!” Yuri laughed uncontrollably until his sides hurt and tears started filling the corners of his eyes.

“Giving up already?” Victor goaded.

“Yes, I give up, you win!”

Victor stepped back and smiled triumphantly.

“You are pure evil, Nikiforov,” Yuri said as he shook his head and moved aside to let Victor through.

As Victor walked past him, they stuck their tongues out at each other (you know, as grown professionals do). Yuri watched silently from his doorway as Victor charmed an older neighbor named Mrs. Perkins into handing him an entire bag of flour. She wasn’t happy at first, answering the door with a gruff “what do you want?” Victor paid her tone no mind, as he easily melted that grumpiness away with generous compliments and his winning smile. Yuri could only hear bits and pieces of the conversation.

“Are you making a special something for a special someone, dear?” Mrs. Perkins teased.

“Hmm, a special someone indeed.” Victor smiled and looked over at Yuri. Mrs. Perkins’ gaze followed. Yuri waved shyly, and the two of them whispered and giggled as Yuri’s face reddened from embarrassment.

“Well, I do hope you treat your boyfriend well. He seems like such a sweet young man. He should say hello more often!”

Both Victor and Yuri lingered on the word “boyfriend.” They were dating, but they hadn’t defined their relationship. Victor had never made a big deal of definitions, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t like the sound of it. He would also be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it before. After their first date (and after another short conversation with Chris about his “intentions”), he had thought about it a lot, actually, and he came to the conclusion that, yes, being labeled Yuri’s partner would make him happy, and extraordinarily so.

A few feet away, Yuri was holding his breath, waiting for Victor to say something. Would he acknowledge the title? He sure hoped so. He would be disappointed if he didn’t, but he would be absolutely heartbroken if he flat-out denied it.

After a moment, Victor smiled and said, “I will, and I’ll be sure to pass the message along.”

Yuri exhaled (probably too audibly).

Okay, he didn’t quite admit it, but he didn’t deny it either. That’s good, right?

He settled on yes. That was a good thing. It was the best he could have hoped for given their short time together and the fact that he didn’t know exactly what Victor wanted out of their relationship.

After giving his thanks, Victor walked back to Yuri’s apartment with his bag of flour and a smug smile. Yuri had already retreated back inside and sunk down onto the floor with his head buried in his arms.

“You’re embarrassing,” Yuri groaned.

Victor squatted down in front of Yuri and uncrossed his arms to get a better look at his face.

“Yeah, but at least I got flour.” Victor leaned in and kissed his forehead. “Ready to cook?”

Yuri nodded, and the two of them walked back to the kitchen, mutually agreeing to ignore the mess until they had finished making the pirozhkis.

Victor wasted no time and measured the necessary ingredients, mixing dry and wet until they formed a single ball of dough. Yuri watched carefully as Victor expertly kneaded the dough with the heel of his palm. Victor said he learned how to make pirozhkis from his grandmother. Yuri pictured a tiny Russian boy, barely tall enough to reach the countertop, eagerly waiting for his turn to add more flour or season the meat. There was so much more he wanted to know about Victor, but for now, knowing that they were there together was enough.

As the feeling of comfort settled around the kitchen, Yuri couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to live with Victor. Victor was an early riser, and he was a chronic over-sleeper. He imagined waking up to the sight of his shirtless Russian semi-maybe-kind-of-boyfriend making eggs, sunny-side up, just how he likes it.

Victor covered the dough and set it aside. As he rinsed his hands, Yuri offered, “Can I help with anything?”

“Sure,” Victor responded as he reached for a paper towel, “grab the meat.”

Yuri snorted unintentionally, immediately pulling a hand over his mouth to fight back laughter.

Victor turned to Yuri with a face that read, really?

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it!” Yuri said through a full-on fit of giggles.

Victor could only smile and shake his head. “Who would have thought that Yuri Katsuki, professor and author, had a middle-school sense of humor?”

The two of them continued to smile and laugh as they prepared the meat and generously filled and folded sheets of rolled dough. It felt like hardly any time had passed when the kitchen timer rang, signaling that dinner was ready.

Instead of smoke, the kitchen filled with the sweet and savory aroma of butter and spiced meat. The pirozhkis came out of the oven a beautiful golden brown, and both their mouths watered as they placed them on cooling racks.

The hungry pair wasted no time once they felt like the pirozhkis were cool enough to eat, or at least cool enough to cause anything below a third-degree burn. They took the first bites, huffing hot air from mouthfuls of pastry.

Yuri, who hadn’t eaten anything all day because of his nerves, scarfed down his share of pirozhkis and finished them before Victor even had a chance to pick up his last one. As Victor opened his mouth to take the last bite, he noticed Yuri staring hungrily at the scrumptious piece.

Victor chuckled. “Here, take it,” he said as he turned the pastry toward Yuri.

“A—are you sure? You did most of the work to make them.”

“Don’t be silly. Cooking with you is a prize in and of itself. Here.” Victor pushed the pastry closer.

How could Yuri say no? He nodded hesitantly and opened his mouth to accept. Victor kept his fingertips close as Yuri chewed and swallowed. When Yuri finished eating, Victor brushed off the golden flakes of dough that hung along his bottom lip. He swiped his thumb across it and remembered how wonderfully soft those lips had felt when they made their way down his neck and abdomen on their first date. He shifted closer.

He lingered long enough for Yuri to notice. The warmth of Victor’s touch and the palpable tension that sat in the space between their bodies cued a rush of adrenaline. The excitement surged from the latent desire that Yuri had been suppressing since that night on the hill. His nerves kicked in, but two months of waiting was far too long.

Yuri looked up at Victor, grabbed his wrist, and slowly took his index finger into his mouth. Yuri playfully licked and sucked, the light taste of butter coating his tongue.

Yuri’s teasing sent all the blood in Victor’s body south. All he could think of was how delicious Yuri’s mouth would feel on his cock, which had now made his jeans too tight for comfort. Victor looked down, thankful that Yuri was feeling the exact same way. Without hesitation, Victor pulled his hand away and lifted Yuri onto the kitchen counter, eliciting a small yelp. Yuri looked confused for a moment, but before he could ask any questions, Victor pulled him in.

A sense of relief came over both of them as weeks of sexual tension melted into a fiery kiss. They moaned and sighed. Their tongues rolled and their teeth knocked lightly against each other as they grew hungrier for more. Victor pulled Yuri’s shirt over his head, tossing it to the side without concern for anything other than returning to the kiss. Yuri leaned back with his hands on the cool granite as Victor kissed his neck. He tossed his head back in pleasure as Victor teasingly nipped at his collar bone and breathed warmth onto his chest.

“Ah…” Yuri moaned as Victor palmed at his erection. Slightly embarrassed, Yuri pulled his hand over his mouth, but Victor grabbed his wrist and held his hand down on the counter.

“Let me hear you,” Victor whispered low into Yuri’s ear.

During their last date, Yuri had taken control and transformed the Russian man from a charismatic force to a disheveled pile of desire and desperation. This time, however, it was clear who was in charge.

Victor continued to scatter kisses along Yuri’s jawline as his hands clumsily made their way down to Yuri’s belt. Victor undid the buckle and slowly unzipped his jeans. A smile crept its way to the corner of his mouth as he felt Yuri’s cock stir underneath the fabric of his boxers. He teased him by running his hand up and down the grey cotton. He let his thumb stroke the tip until he could see a dark spot of pre-cum soaking through.

Yuri’s hands trembled as he tried to undo the buttons on Victor’s shirt. He was suddenly acutely aware they were only a few feet away from his bedroom. The possibility of where the night could lead overwhelmed him with anticipation. He felt like a teenager about to experience sex for the first time. He couldn’t stop the nerves from shaking his body, but he managed to reach the last button and slide the shirt off of Victor’s shoulders. Yuri’s nervous hands explored the curves of Victor’s muscles, feeling them tense and relax as he moved.

“Mmm…fuck…” Yuri couldn’t keep the noises from leaving his mouth as Victor tightened the grip on his cock.

Yuri wasn’t the only one being driven mad with pleasure. Watching Yuri writhe on command with every stroke turned Victor on. His cock was pulsing in his pants at the thought of fucking Yuri right then and there. The restraint of clothing had become unbearable as he was all but ready to burst. But he couldn’t. He wanted to make Yuri feel good first. He wanted Yuri to cum for him. He wanted to hear Yuri say scream his name in ecstasy as he finished.

Victor stripped Yuri’s pants and boxers in one fell swoop. Yuri didn’t have time to process before Victor’s tongue was licking Yuri all the way from the base to the tip of his cock. He swirled his tongue around, hitting a delicate spot the made Yuri’s hips buckle. Victor chuckled and met Yuri’s gaze before he slowly wrapped his lips around the erection and engulfed it entirely in the warmth and wetness of his mouth. Victor’s slow descent made Yuri bite his lip so hard that he could taste iron trickling from a newly formed cut to the back of his throat. His lips were plump and bruised from Victor’s kisses and his own efforts to keep his moans contained.

Victor started slow, taking the full length of his cock in and rolling his tongue against the tip when he came back up. He used one hand to cup and lightly squeeze Yuri’s balls each time he went down and took a mouthful. With the other, he ran his fingertip along the lean muscles of Yuri’s abdomen and flicked his perky pink nipples that hardened with every touch.

Yuri’s breathing became heavier each time Victor picked up the pace. Yuri thrusted into Victor’s mouth, chasing that pleasure that sent chills down his spine. Victor gagged when Yuri pushed a little too hard, but he didn’t mind, and he sure as hell didn’t stop. Not when he could hear Yuri’s curses and moans get louder, not when he could feel that Yuri was close.

Yuri tugged at the silver strands of Victor’s hair, pulling him in, begging him to go faster. The heat was building at the base of his stomach, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer.

“Fuck, Victor…” Yuri let go of Victor’s hair and grabbed on to his neck. “Ah…I—I’m about to—”

Yuri could barely speak. He dug his nails into Victor’s skin as he rode the waves of pleasure that pulsed throughout his body like blood flowing through his veins. He quivered as he splattered cum in Victor’s mouth.

Victor held Yuri in his mouth for a moment before he slowly pulled away, giving the tip a gentle suck before standing upright. Victor swallowed and licked his lips. “You taste so good, Yuri…”

Still out of breath, Yuri watched Victor wipe his cum off his beautiful heart-shaped mouth and thought, how the fuck did I pull that off?

Victor gave Yuri a sweet peck on the cheek. He picked up Yuri’s shirt from the floor and handed it to him, but Yuri shook his head, chest still heaving slightly.

“We’re not done yet,” Yuri said as his gaze fell on the throbbing bulge in Victor’s pants. “Take it off.”

Victor had never undressed with such speed and fervor in his life. He didn’t want to assume that Yuri would return the favor of getting him off, but with Yuri’s consent, he didn’t hesitate. Once Victor’s cock was free from his boxers, Yuri hopped off the counter and knelt in front of him.

Yuri stared up at Victor as he began stroking him with torturous leisure. The slows movements of Yuri’s hand drove Victor crazy, both because it felt so fucking good, but also because he wished Yuri would quit teasing and just let him finish.

Yuri playfully licked at the tip before taking in the impressive length of Victor’s cock, which barely fit in his mouth. He continued bobbing his head, gently sucking and swirling his tongue along the erection. Victor reached down and grabbed Yuri’s hair, guiding him to a steady rhythm that worked with the movement of his hips.

Victor looked down at Yuri, the spit dripping from his chin and down to the floor where his knees had settled. As Yuri picked up the pace, Victor was on the edge. He held back a little longer, hoping to savor the feeling of Yuri’s mouth around his cock, but he knew he wouldn’t last much longer.

“Mmm, Yuri—”

Hearing his name, Yuri pulled away and looked up at Victor. “What is it?”

“Wait, Yuri, no—”

Before Victor could finish his warning, he had already reached a point of no return. Victor needed to release the pleasure that Yuri had so steadily built. Neither of them had a chance to back away before Victor spilled ribbons of cum onto Yuri’s flushed face.

Victor stood still for a moment, jaw dropped, totally in shock.

“Yuri, I’m so sorry!”

Victor panicked. He looked around the room, grabbing the paper towels before kneeling down to help Yuri clean up. He expected Yuri to be angry. He was rude, inconsiderate, totally uncool. That was the only reaction that made sense. But instead, Yuri laughed.

“It’s okay,” Yuri assured him with a smile. “I don’t mind, really. I—I kind of like it.” Yuri’s face turned an embarrassing shade of red. After all, it wasn’t every day that he admitted to enjoying facials.

Victor was taken aback by the answer. He adored this man so much (and not just because he was laughing through a face full of his cum).

Yuri took the paper towel from Victor and finished wiping his face. “I really should shower, though. I’m already covered in flour, and now…this.”

Victor chucked. “Yeah, you should. I’ll clean up while you do that.”

“Thank you,” Yuri said as he pulled his pants up and made his way to the bathroom. He stopped at his bedroom doorway and turned to Victor. “Umm,” he started bashfully. “If you’d like…you can…maybe…stay the night?”

Victor smiled, happy that the pre-packed overnight bag in his car would not go unutilized.

“I’d love that.” He smiled back and watched Yuri disappear around the corner.

Victor quickly followed suit, picking up his own shirt from the floor, slipping in one arm and then the other, leaving it unbuttoned as he began cleaning the kitchen. He worked swiftly, placing the dishes in the dishwasher and sweeping flour off the floor. When he finished, he walked around the apartment, fascinated by Yuri’s life beyond the university. He recognized Phichit in one of the framed pictures on the living room wall. Another frame depicted Yuri’s family posing in front of a tradition Japanese gate. Victor couldn’t read the signs posted along the entrance, but he recognized it as the Katsuki family hot springs Yuri had boasted about during one of their lunches.

Victor made his way into the bedroom as he heard the water shut off. Yuri popped out a moment later, hair dripping, and towel draped around his waist. Victor stared, making sure to etch that stunning image into his memory forever. After a few moments, Victor walked up behind Yuri, wrapping his arms around his delicate frame. His hair smelled like lavender and fresh linen; his skin felt soft as silk. Yuri turned and gave him a sweet, slow kiss.

“I’m happy you’re staying,” Yuri said, unable to contain the sincere joy in his voice.

“I was hoping you would ask me,” Victor responded. “To be honest, I packed a bag just in case, but I left it in my car. I didn’t want to impose. I wasn’t sure if you would’ve wanted me to stay.”

Yuri blushed, flattered and relieved that he wasn’t the only one anticipating more than just dinner. “In that case, do you need to borrow anything?”

“Sure, I should probably change out of these. Don’t want your bed smelling like pirozhkis.”

Yuri chucked, but having his bed smell like something that reminded him of Victor didn’t seem like a terrible idea. “There should be a few shirts in that dresser over there.”

Yuri pointed to a tall dresser next to his desk. Victor opened the top drawer and rummaged through to find a shirt that he could comfortably wear. He picked a plain white T-shirt a size too large for Yuri but perfect for him. As he pulled it over his head, he noticed a stack of papers held together with a binder clip and sitting on top of Yuri’s desk. The cover page read “Untitled.”

Victor picked up the papers, but just as he flipped the first page, Yuri rushed in, practically jumping over him. He quickly grabbed the papers from Victor, hiding it behind his back.

“Was that a manuscript?” Victor asked excitedly. “Are you working on a new novel?” The thought of Yuri returning to his passions made Victor’s eyes light up.

Yuri struggled to formulate a lie. He couldn’t speak. Maybe this was it. Maybe this would be the day he told Victor the truth. He deserved to know, right? If Yuri wanted anything resembling a real relationship, he couldn’t hide this part of his life. But maybe he could. He thought hard about it. What would Victor think? Esteemed literary scholar, Victor Nikiforov. He would probably laugh. He would probably be disgusted. He probably wouldn’t want to be with such a terrible, talentless novelist. An erotic novelist, on top of it all. Can you imagine? A genius with a porn writer? Yuri would be humiliated. No, he couldn’t tell Victor. Not if he wanted to a fighting chance to be with him.

“No! Of course not,” Yuri said defensively. “I’ve told you before...I’ve given up on that. This is just…my journal.”

“Ah,” Victor’s response reflected his disappointment and incredulity. He knew Yuri was lying. He knew a manuscript when he saw one. He had hoped Yuri would open up to him, especially after all that transpired, but the barrier Yuri had built around the subject was stronger than Victor had previously imagined. He had gotten past the physical barriers, but this…this would take years, he thought.

Yuri shoved the papers into the desk drawer and pushed it shut. He took a second to relax before facing Victor. He put a hand to his cheek. “Why don’t we get some sleep?”

“Of course,” Victor resigned. He knew he couldn’t rush Yuri, and although he was often impatient, this was something that needed to wait.

Once in bed, Victor pulled Yuri close, kissing his forehead, and Yuri cozied himself up against the Russian man’s chest. After a few moments, they drifted off into a deep sleep.

Chapter 6: Hardly Heartless

Summary:

The one where Chris and Victor have a serious talk.

In the midst of this global pandemic, all I can say is take care of yourselves, and take care of each other.

I hope you enjoy this chapter! I've been finding more time to write even though I'm still taking classes online. Hopefully I can publish more chapters soon!

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Morning came, and Victor shifted under the sheets. His phone was ringing outside the bedroom. He looked over and saw Yuri, fast asleep, seemingly unbothered by the blaring sound. Victor swung his legs off the bed and made his way toward the kitchen.

“Hello?” Victor croaked.

“Good morning, sleepy head.” It was Chris, chuckling and amused at the sleepiness that made Victor’s voice crack.

“Chris, it’s early. What’s up?”

“It’s 9:00 a.m., first of all. Second, did you already forget about our coffee date?”

“Ah, shit.” Victor peered into the bedroom where Yuri slept peacefully. He didn’t want to wake him, but leaving a note and slipping out seemed worse. “Okay, I’ll meet you there in two hours.”

“Two hours? The café’s a five-minute walk from your condo.”

Two hours would give Victor enough time to head back home, shower, pick up Makka from her dog sitter’s apartment, and head to the café. Of course, Chris didn’t know any of that.

“Wait, don’t tell me…” Chris paused. “Are you at Yuri’s?”

Victor hesitated, “Yeah…so?”

“Ah, I see. Congrats, chéri. Honestly, I didn’t think your shy little playmate would let you stay.”

Victor rolled his eyes. “Save the teasing for later,” he whispered. “Two hours.”

“Two hours.”

Victor hung up the phone and gathered his things. He slipped into his clothes and tip toed his way to Yuri’s side of the bed. He sat down on the mattress and gently ran his fingers through Yuri’s hair as the sleeping beauty blinked his eyes open.

“Hey.”

“Mmm, hey,” Yuri said with a big stretch and yawn. “Have you been awake long?”

“No, just a few minutes.”

Yuri sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Do you want breakfast?”

“You know I would love to, but I have to run. I’m meeting up with Chris today.”

“Oh, okay.” Yuri tried to hide his disappointment. For him, the best part of having someone over was waking up to them and enjoying breakfast together. He would have to let that domestic fantasy play out another time. “I’ll see you at work then?”

“Actually, this is going to be a busy week for me. Lots of events, so I won’t be in my office much. But I’ll definitely see you Friday night, right?”

“Friday? Did we have something planned?”

“The department bar-hopping event.”

“Oh, right. I think I got an email about that.”

“I’d have so much more fun with you there.”

Victor smiled his winning smile and placed his hand on top of Yuri’s. How could he say no?

“Yeah. Of course. I’ll be there.”

“Good!” Victor kissed Yuri on the forehead. “I better get going. Chris is going to kill me if I’m late.”

“I’ll walk you out.”

The two made their way to the exit, and after one last kiss, Victor opened the door.

“Oh,” Victor blurted.

“Oh? Oh is right.”

“Umm, Phichit, right?”

“Mmhm.” The theater professor stood outside the doorway, a bag of breakfast burritos in hand, and a smirk as wide as the blush spreading across Victor’s pale cheeks.

“Uh, well, I have to get going, but it was good seeing you!” Victor said as he rushed passed Phichit and looked back at Yuri mouthing, I’m sorry.

Yuri waved goodbye and prepared himself for the interrogation to follow.

Phichit walked in and plopped himself on the couch. “So…”

“I know,” Yuri interrupted. “I know I should have told you.”

Phichit took a moment to examine his friend, who was red from embarrassment. “How was it?”

“How was what?”

“Being with the great Victor Nikiforov?”

“Well, we didn’t… it’s not that…it’s not what you think,” Yuri struggled to explain.

“So, you didn’t fuck?”

“No.”

“He just stayed the night?”

“Well…no.”

“So, somewhere between fucking and sleeping over.”

“I guess that’s one way to put it.”

“You know, for an erotic novelist, you sure are horrible at talking about sex,” Phichit chuckled. “But don’t worry, I won’t pry too much just yet.”

“You know I tell you everything eventually,” Yuri admitted as he took a foil-wrapped burrito from the coffee table.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be patient,” Phichit smiled. “How are things going between you two?”

“Uh, good.” Yuri hesitated.

“You say that, but the look on your face says there’s something else going on.”

Yuri was easy to read, but Phichit had talent for picking up on these things. Yuri knew he couldn’t hide his feelings, nor did he want to. Phichit was his person, his go-to, his best friend. If Yuri could be honest with anybody, it was him.

“We’re good, really. I like him. A lot…”

“I can tell that you do. So, what’s the problem?”

“I haven’t been…completely honest with him.”

“About what?”

“My writing.”

“Hmm, I know you’re keeping it a secret from people at work, but Victor’s different, right?”

“He is, and that’s what I’m scared of. He’s too perfect, you know? The university idolizes him, and for good reason. He’s brilliant! I’ve read his work, and he’s leagues above me. If he finds out I write shitty erotic novels, he’ll think less of me. He’ll probably think I’m a sick freak! How could someone like him want someone like me?”

Yuri let out a big sigh and took a big bite of his burrito. As painful as it was to say, he felt a sense of relief vocalizing his thoughts.

“First of all, you’re selling yourself short,” Phichit reassured. “You’re awesome, and Victor would be lucky to have you. Second, I think you’re underestimating Victor.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know the guy that well, but from what you’ve told me, he seems to care about you a lot. Chris complains that Victor’s a workaholic, but he’s clearly making time to see you. He likes you, Yuri, and I think he’ll feel the same way regardless of your past.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re my best friend.”

“No, I’m saying that because I’m honest.”

Phichit had a point. His brutal honesty was both a blessing and a curse in their friendship.

“Yuri, seriously. I don’t think you’re giving the guy a fair chance. Ultimately, it’s your decision whether or not you want to tell him, but it sounds like you’re giving up too soon. Give it more thought, yeah?”

“…Yeah.” Yuri still had doubts. Even though he knew Victor cared, he couldn’t just ignore their difference in ability. To him, Victor was the image of success, and he couldn’t compete. But for now, he would take Phichit’s advice.

 


Later that morning…

“So, how are you feeling about Yuri?” Chris took a bite of his croissant, wiping the flakes of dough from the corners of his mouth.

Victor tapped his fork on the small plate, which ten minutes ago carried a generous slice of rich, dark chocolate cake.

The two were seated on the patio of a popular bakery owned by Isabella Yang-Leroy, a pastry chef who settled down in the college town after marrying her husband JJ, or Dean Leroy as most of the residents liked to call him. The bakery was a hotspot for locals and visitors thanks to the number of aspiring college-aged influencers in the area. Isabella’s shop lived up to the hype. The bread and pastries were baked fresh every day, each one mixed, kneaded, or folded to perfection by Isabella herself.

Chris chose the bakery for their monthly coffee and dessert date, a tradition that stemmed from their time spent in grad school working on papers in local cafes. But as delicious as the desserts were, Victor was fonder of the outdoor seating, which meant that he could bring Makkachin along. Even in November, the sunlit patio kept the cold at bay, and the pup basked in its warmth.

Victor looked up at Chris with a genuine smile. “He’s perfect.”

Chris raised his eyebrows high with intrigue and skepticism. “That’s a strong word.”

“I don’t know how to describe it, Chris. He’s incredible. Funny, smart, beautiful.”

“Sounds like you’re in love,” Chris joked.

Victor paused, and with a soft smile on his face he said, “Maybe.”

His answer rendered Chris speechless for a few seconds. This was the first time he’d ever seen Victor this excited about someone, much less come close to admitting any romantic feelings beyond “like.” Victor’s smile looked sincere, and he looked genuinely happy. Chris wanted to believe it, but doubt still lingered in the back of his mind.

“I’m happy for you, Vic. Surprised, honestly. It’s only been, what, two and a half months?”

Victor shrugged. “I’ve been in and out of relationships faster than that. Besides, it’s not like you’re any better,” Victor joked.  

Chris’s amusement was soon replaced by offense. The comparison was unfair. Sure, Chris was outrageously flirtatious, but once in a relationship, he always gave his partners the attention and commitment they deserved, no matter how short those relationships lasted. Victor, he thought, couldn’t say the same. Victor was often selfish as a partner, postponing or cancelling plans for the sake of work without regard for the other person.

On most days, Chris let comments like that slide. This time, however, Chris was unusually irritated. Victor, of all people, had no right to judge or makes jokes about his love life. He was furious, but he pushed down the ugly feeling until it sat in the pit of his stomach.

Biting his tongue, Chris composed himself and forced a smile. “So, tell me about your ‘perfect’ Yuri.”  

“Well, he’s not mine yet, but he will be soon enough.” Victor winked.

“Oh?” Chris couldn’t help but laugh sardonically. The frustration weighed heavy inside him, ready to explode after years of holding back.

“What’s so funny?” Victor laughed along, completely unaware that Chris was at the end of his patience.

“Nothing. I just thought you were finally taking things seriously for a change,” Chris scoffed.

Taken aback by the change in tone, Victor’s smile faded.

“What are you talking about?”

“Were you even listening to yourself? First, you tell me this guy is perfect. Then, you tell me that you might be in love, whatever that means. And now you’re acting like this is some kind of game? Like Yuri’s the grand prize?”

Victor was stunned. He didn’t know how to respond. He didn’t know how to feel, except confused and irritated at Chris for being a jerk.

“What? Do you think I’m just fucking around?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I think.”

“You’ve never had a problem with it before, and now you’re acting all high and mighty?”

“Yes, I have! It’s always been a problem, chéri. Last time I brought it up, we argued and got kicked out of a bar, remember? I haven’t said anything since then, but you treat your boyfriends like shit sometimes, especially when they get in the way of work.”  

Victor sat up straighter in his seat. “I’m not heartless, you know.”

“No, you’re not, but—”

“But what?” Defiance slowly hardened Victor’s body, as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

Shit, Chris thought to himself. He didn’t mean to blow up like that. He should have kept his mouth shut. The acidity rapidly building in Victor’s voice was warning him not to push him any further. Chris waited, hoping that Victor would drop the argument, but he would not budge. He held firm, stubborn and cemented like the defensive wall he had built.

Chris took a deep breath, knowing that the next thing out of his mouth would bring to the surface all the leftover bitterness from their last fight.

“You’re a bit…insensitive. Sometimes. You know?”

“No, I don’t. Enlighten me,” Victor said scornfully as he leaned back, arms still crossed, lips pursed.

Chris paused. He knew he was walking on eggshells. Hoping not to repeat their last alcohol-fueled fight, he explained, “Chéri, this is the first time I’ve ever seen you show any genuine interest someone.”

Chris waited, but Victor only glared back.

“Every guy I’ve introduced you to, you’ve fucked over. You go on dates, you treat them well for a few weeks, and when you realize that you have to keep that up—that you actually have to invest in that person—you stop. It’s like you flip a switch. One day you’re dating, the next day he’s dead to you. I don’t get it.”

Chris paused again, met only by silence and growing tension. Victor was looking down now, staring at the worn leather of his shoes. Chris sighed, “I know you care, and I know you don’t do it to hurt anyone. You’re not heartless, so, why act like it?”

“Because that’s all I know how to do!” Victor raised his voice. Eyes around the café turned toward him. “Work, literature, fiction. That’s all I know. Love? That’s real. That’s…scary…”

After the outburst, Victor’s face softened, and his shoulders relaxed out of his ears. Something about what Chris said struck a chord with him. Victor knew he had a tendency to push people away. He wasn’t stupid. He was self-aware, and acutely so. But he didn’t do it to play with anyone’s feelings. He did it because being alone was all he ever knew. Victor thought that he could do it all on his own: build his career on his own, find joy on his own. And for the better part of his life, he thought he had done just that. In the past few months, however, he had begun to question whether pouring his soul into his career could fulfill him. The answer had always been unclear, but when Yuri walked into his life, it became obvious.  

“I’ve been immersed in this world my whole life. Do you really think someone could put up with me? Even if they fall in love with me, do you think they can stay in love once they realize that my work always takes priority? No one wants that. No one deserves that.”

Feeling guilty, Chris softened his voice, trying to sound more sympathetic. “Look, I’m not trying to argue with you. All I’m saying is that Yuri seems like a sweet guy. He’s Phichit’s best friend, and I at least owe it to him to look out for him. So, what are you trying to accomplish?”

“I don’t know,” Victor said, almost inaudibly. “I like him, Chris. He’s sweet, and maybe he likes me now, but in a few months, maybe…” Victor trailed off, his voice labored with hurt over the possibility of losing the one person he had grown to adore. “In a few months, maybe he won’t,” Victor finished the painful thought.

“What makes you say that?”

“Just look at Mila and Georgi,” Victor responded.

Mila Babicheva and Georgi Popovich were good friends of Chris and Victor. All four had attended the same graduate university. Georgi and Mila studied Russian literature with Victor and followed him to GPU when he received his offer.

Victor explained, “When we met Mila, she was a mess. Her asshole hockey player boyfriend couldn’t stand the fact that she chose to leave Russia to get her Ph.D., and he dumped her a week after she moved here. And Georgi. He was with Anya for six years, and as soon as he started dedicating more time to the program, she ran off with some other guy. He was devastated, remember?”

“How could I forget? He wore dark purple lipstick and eyeshadow for months to mourn the relationship.”

“Exactly! And it’s been one break up after another ever since.” Victor continued, “Point is, I’ve never seen this end well, and it scares me. Yuri’s the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time. He deserves the world, but I—I’m just not sure I can give him that. It’s easier for me to pretend like this is all fun and games because if I can’t make him happy, he might…” Victor buried his face in his palms. He tried to compose, desperately holding back the tears that were forming in his eyes.

Chris sighed. For the first time, Chris began to realize that Victor’s callousness in relationships didn’t come from a lack of interest in love; it came from a place of fear. It was a defense mechanism that ensured his safety from potential heartbreaks.

“I’m sorry, chéri.” Chris paused, formulating the right thing to say, as if such a thing existed. “I don’t know Yuri, and I can’t make any guarantees that he won’t break your heart, but sometimes you have to stick your neck out. You can’t keep playing it safe, especially not if it’s making you so miserable.”

Victor wiped the droplets of tears that had clung to his eyelashes. He looked up with a weak smile and chuckled under his breath. “Have I been miserable?”

Chris nodded. “Even Makka knows it.”

The pup looked up, alerted by the mention of her name. Victor smiled and reached down to fluff her ears.

“So, what do I do now?” Victor asked, all the bitterness gone from his voice.

“I don’t know,” Chris conceded, “but if you really like Yuri, and you’re not just messing with his feelings, I’ll support you.”

A moment of silence released whatever tension was left from the conversation.

“I am serious, you know.” Victor met Chris’ eyes with resolve. “I know I don’t have the best track record, and I don’t blame you for being suspicious, but I’m serious this time.”

“And you’re willing to sacrifice time away from work to do that?”

Victor leaned his elbow on the table, resting his chin on one hand. He had already stopped working through lunch to eat with Yuri. He had even declined an offer to participate in a panel to have dinner with him. But it wouldn’t stop there. Victor knew that building a relationship would require effort and commitment, something that used to terrify him just a few months ago. Somehow, he wasn’t as put off by the idea now. The thought of being with Yuri seemed worth it, but Victor was still Victor. Literature was his life, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay away for long.

After some thought, Victor said, “We can make it work.”

Convinced by his best friend’s determination, Chris smiled. “Good, then you have my full support.”

Victor smiled back.

“But you know this means I need to screen him, right?” Chris continued.

“Screen him?”

“Yuri’s the first person you’ve ever taken seriously. I have to get to know him.”

“Oh, please,” Victor dismissed the comment as a joke.

“Seriously. Think about it. You haven’t been in a relationship in god knows how long. If something happens, chéri, I need to be equipped with the proper knowledge to help you in your times of need.”

The two friends laughed, acknowledging that yes, Victor was a mess, and yes, Chris had always been the one to help him through it all. The humor was a welcome respite and a clear signal that the argument was officially over.

“Fine, but don’t make any unnecessary comments. He’s different on paper than he is in person,” Victor cautioned.

“Deal.” Chris extended his hand and closed the agreement with a shake. “Is he coming next Friday?”

“I asked him this morning. He said he would.”

“Perfect,” Chris said mischievously. “Don’t worry, I’ll play nice.”

Notes:

ALSO HI, I'M SO EXCITED ABOUT THE NEXT CHAPTER. I finished it a long time ago. I was so dang excited for it that I finished it before I could even finish writing this chapter lol.

Can't wait to share! :)

Chapter 7: Beer Tequila Whiskey

Summary:

The one where Yuri has one (or six) too many. Also the one with a god-awful cliff hanger (oof).

Damn, updating a few hours early? What a feat. LET ME TELL YOU, I had so much fun writing this chapter, so I hope you have just as much fun reading it~

FUN FACT: All the bars mentioned in this chapter are real bars that I enjoy :)

Chapter Text

“Yuri, see you tonight!”

It was Georgi, the same man Yuri had seen sulking in the conference room during the first faculty meeting of the semester. He was waving goodbye to Yuri as he exited the department.

Yuri waved back from his office. Victor had told him about the bar-hopping event, insisting that he would have way more fun if he were there. Yuri’s answer was a resounding yes.

The international bar hop (unofficially and unfortunately known as I-hop), was an annual tradition in the Modern Languages Department that took place on the last Friday of November. One week before the event, professors submitted suggestions for local bars. The only rule was that they had to be thematically linked to a foreign country (this somehow made getting shitfaced with your colleagues more work-related). Three entries were then randomly selected.

_________________________________________________

Bar #1: Cincos (Mexican)

Yuri was late.

He had lost track of time while grading Hiragana worksheets. He planned to stop by his apartment and change, but instead, he decided to head straight to the bar in his work tie and blazer.

Cincos was a Mexican restaurant and bar close to Yuri’s apartment complex. He frequented it with Phichit for their taco Tuesday deals. He walked into the familiar, dimly lit space. It was a large room, but the loud music and chatter bouncing off the walls made the place seem smaller. One of the bartenders recognized him and offered him some draught beer, on the house. Yuri thanked him. He looked around hoping to see someone from the department. He arrived an hour late, so he had expected his colleagues to be there already. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Victor standing on the other side of the bar. He hadn’t noticed Yuri yet. Unsurprisingly, he was surrounded by people, telling some story, probably talking about Dostoyevsky. Whatever it was, everyone seemed captivated. Victor always knew how to command a room.

Yuri thought about walking over but decided against it. He rationalized it in his head. He didn’t want to interrupt. He didn’t want to take Victor away from his other companions. Yuri had agreed to attend the event mostly because Victor invited him, but that didn’t mean Victor was there solely for him. Instead, he sat at the bar, waiting for the crowd around him to dissipate.

“Drinking alone?”

Yuri looked over his shoulder. It was Christophe. This was the first time they had spoken since Victor briefly introduced them one month ago. He had seen Chris in Victor’s office many times before, but he had always been too shy to pop in and say hello. Surely, Victor must have mentioned Yuri to him by now, but he didn’t want to be presumptuous.

“Oh, no, just waiting for more people to show up I guess.”

Chris took the seat next to him. “Everyone’s here. Well, there, technically,” Chris motioned toward the side of the room where Victor stood. “He’s a popular guy. It’s exhausting being around him at social events.”

Yuri chuckled, “I bet.”

“Let me buy you a drink.”

Before Yuri could refuse, still nursing the beer in his hand, Chris had already motioned for the bartender.

“What do you want?”

“Beer is fine.” Yuri shrugged.

Unconvinced, Chris ignored the request. “Two Mexican mules.” He turned to Yuri, who looked ready to protest. “You can save the beer for the Irish pub,” he smiled.

The drinks arrived in copper cups garnished with lime slices. Yuri quickly finished off his beer, practically chugging it so as not to seem rude and ignore the drink that Chris had bought him. He took a sip of the mule, already feeling a headache developing in the back of his skull from the acrid taste. He would regret this decision in the morning.

“Not a fan of tequila?” Chris asked after noticing him scrunch his face.

“Not so much. May have overdone it in college.” Yuri could still remember waking up with massive hangovers after taking shots at whatever frat party Phichit got him to attend. Those were definitely not the good old days.

“You don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to,” Chris reassured him.

“No, no, it’s fine. Actually, I think I’ll need more than this to get through the night.”

Yuri took a big sip. He had a bad habit of using alcohol to cope with his social anxiety, especially in crowded places. It wasn’t healthy, but it was an issue that would take time to address. Tonight, he just needed to survive his first GPU social event.

“In that case,” Chris called the bartender over once again, “put all his orders on my tab.”

“Oh, no, that’s kind, but you don’t have to do that,” Yuri insisted.

“Don’t be silly. It’s a gift.” Chris winked.

Yuri thought that Chris’ charisma probably rivaled Victor’s. It made sense why they were best friends. He continued to sip at his drink, getting used to the harshness of the liquor.

“Is Phichit here?” Chris asked.

“No. I didn’t know we could bring friends.”

“Why don’t you tell him to meet us at the next bar?”

Yuri thought that was a good idea. Having Phichit there would make him less anxious. Besides, if Yuri couldn’t gather the courage to infiltrate Victor’s social circle, Phichit would gladly do the work for him.

8:15 p.m. Remember that bar hopping event I told you about?

8:16 p.m. Yeah, I-hop? Stupid name.

8:17 p.m. Wanna come?

8:17 p.m. Fuck yeah.

He felt a huge sense of relief…

“So, Victor tells me you used to be a writer?”

…which was cut short by Chris’ question.

“Oh…umm, yeah…”

Yuri cursed Victor in his head. Out of all the things he could have mentioned, he chose that?

“Books?”

“Yeah.”

“What genre?”

“Umm, fiction.”

“Hmm.”

Chris looked inquisitive. Too inquisitive, in fact. It made Yuri nervous for the questions to come. He sipped his drink faster until he reached the bottom of his cup. He motioned the bartender for another.

Chris, on the other hand, was enjoying this. Victor was right; flustered Yuri was pretty adorable. Toying with him was a mean thing, sure, but he didn’t want to let Victor have all the fun.

“Maybe I’ve read some of them?” He asked.

“Oh, no I doubt it,” Yuri said firmly.

Chris smiled mischievously, “Try me.”

The bartender handed Yuri his third drink. Yuri took large gulps to stall time. He needed to come up with something fast. Various fake titles popped into his mind—Katsudon for the Soul? To Kill a Writing Career? Yuri Katsuki and the Chamber of Secret Erotic Novels? No, none of that would work.

“Uh…” His buzzed brain was overwhelmed by the task of generating a simple lie. Then one clicked. “They’re all in Japanese!”

“Ah.” Chris swirled the straw in his drink. “Shame. I’m sure I would have thoroughly enjoyed them.”

Yuri didn’t understand what Chris meant by that, but he disregarded it. He had dodged a bullet, but he wasn’t sure if he could survive another. He needed to change the subject.

“So, you and Victor met in grad school, right?”

“Yeah, same university, different Ph.D. programs.”

“Oh.”

“But actually, we met on a blind date.”

Oh.

Yuri felt his stomach turn. Maybe it was the mix of beer and tequila, but more likely than not, it was the mean, green-eyed monster called jealousy. He knew Chris and Victor were close, that much was clear from Chris’ Instagram, but dating? He hadn’t expected that. All of a sudden, that picture of them poolside in skimpy speedos wasn’t so funny anymore.

“Uh—umm, when…or, how long were you two…dating?”

Chris noticed the stutters and cracks in Yuri’s voice. He smirked. “Oh, not long, but we had our fun.”

Yuri listened but refused to make eye contact. His face was already pink from the alcohol, and now he had the image of Chris and Victor…having fun. The tequila was starting to lose its initial potency, and he downed the last of his drink with a straight face.

Yuri was mired in his thoughts when he heard a cheerful, “Yuri!”

It was Victor, weaving through the small crowd.

“Speak of the devil,” Chris remarked. “Did your little fan club finally leave you alone?”

“All but one. I got my biggest fan right here.” Victor placed an arm around Chris, who rolled his eyes. They both laughed.

Yuri pouted. He wondered whether they had always been this intimate, and how he had never noticed.

“I was worried you wouldn’t come.”

It took a moment for Yuri to realize that Victor was speaking to him.

“Huh?” Yuri looked up, heart heavy after seeing Victor still leaning against Chris. “Oh, yeah. Here I am,” Yuri said, shrugging his shoulders dismissively.

Victor tilted his head. “Are you okay?”

“Yes! I’m swell!” The tequila was kicking in.

The sarcasm was hard to miss, but Victor figured that a loud and crowded bar wasn’t the right place to discuss whatever was bothering him.

Chris sat quietly, trying hard not to smile and fully aware of what he had done. He would apologize to both of them later, but for now, he wanted to watch the night unfold.

“Well, we’re about to walk to the next bar.” Victor gestured to the group of professors waiting by the entrance. “Ready to go?”

“Absolutely!” Yuri waived his hand and got up from the barstool far too quickly. He felt his head spin, but he caught himself. Three drinks in thirty minutes was more than the young professor had consumed in a while.

“Yuri, are you sure you’re okay?” Victor’s tone was one of genuine concern.

Yuri responded in a steadier tone, “Yes.”

Truth be told, Yuri wasn’t that drunk, but whatever level of drunkenness he had reached was enough to amplify his feelings of jealousy into an outward display of annoyance.

After Chris and Victor closed their tabs, the three of them joined the group and walked to the next bar.

_________________________________________________

Bar #2: Wolf and Crane (Japanese)

The trio managed the fifteen-minute walk without too much trouble. Victor’s attempts to talk to Yuri were met by curt responses, so he thought it best to leave him alone and turned to Chris instead. Like pouring gasoline over a fire.

By the time they had reached their destination, Phichit was already waiting by the door.

“Phichit!” Yuri threw his hands up in the air and draped his arms over Phichit’s shoulders.

Phichit reciprocated the hug. “I see you already started drinking without me.”

“Thank god you’re here,” Yuri mumbled with his mouth buried in Phichit’s shoulder.

Phichit laughed. He rarely got to see Yuri like this, and when he did, it was always bound to be an interesting night. He looked up, seeing Victor and Chris waiting for them. He nodded and smiled.

“You guys go on ahead! We’ll meet you inside.”

Chris and Victor obliged, walking past a security guard in a black suit.

“Ugh,” Yuri groaned, still clinging to his best friend.

“Alright, let go.” Phichit pulled away and steadied Yuri by grabbing both of his shoulders. “What’s going on?”

“Did you know…” Yuri pointed his index finger up, signaling that he was about to drop some important information, “…that Chris and Victor used to date?”

Phichit’s eyes widened and jaw dropped. “Wait, really? Where did you hear that?”

“Chris told me,” Yuri practically scoffed when he said his name.

“No fucking way. That’s nuts!”

Phichit couldn’t believe it. He knew Chris well. He was his closest friend in the Theater Department. He knew that Chris cared about Victor, but he could never imagine them dating. In fact, whenever people made assumptions about Chris’ relationship with Victor, he vehemently denied any romantic involvement.

Phichit wanted to ask more questions. This gossip was not to be taken lightly, but he noticed that Yuri was—

“Are you…crying?” Phichit leaned in closer.

“No, you’re crying.”

Phichit chuckled, “Nice comeback.”

Yuri turned away and wiped the tears that were starting to pool in the waterline of his eye. He was wavering between two emotions: sad and angry. Sad because he was selfish and hated the thought of Victor being so close to someone he used to date. Angry at himself because the small part of his rational mind that hadn’t yet been clouded by alcohol knew he was overreacting.

Drunk Yuri was all sorts of emotional. Happy, sad, angry. Any emotion he felt was intensified in proportion to his level of drunkenness. He was definitely drunk, but he wasn’t at his worst; not even close.

“Alright, get yourself together, Katsuki. Who cares if they used to date? That was years ago. They’re just friends.”

Yuri looked unconvinced.

“Come on, let’s go inside. I’ll get you some water—”

“—another drink.”

“Fine, I’ll get you another drink, and if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll try to get more information out of Chris.”

Yuri nodded, and Phichit led them inside.

The space was loud and crowded, more so than the last. The bar was shielded by a wall of people, but Phichit managed to maneuver his way through with Yuri right behind him.

Phichit plopped Yuri down on a vacant seat. “Will you be okay here?”

Yuri nodded.

Despite the crowd, Phichit managed to get the attention of one of the bartenders. He pointed to Yuri, indicating that he was the one in need of service.

“Wait for me. I’m going to find Chris.”

As Phichit walked off, the bartender approached. He was a burly Japanese man named Takeshi Nishigori. He and Yuri chatted for a few minutes in Japanese, bonding over the fact that they were both born and raised in Hasetsu. Nishigori moved to the U.S. with his wife, Yuko, and his triplets. They opened Wolf and Crane shortly after. Apparently, he had even visited the Katsuki family hot springs on one of his trips back home. Happy to have met someone from his small town, he offered Yuri all drinks on the house. In his inebriated state, Yuri could not refuse.

The first drink arrived. It was a glass of Japanese Whiskey, neat. Yuri let the golden-brown liquid coat his tongue before swallowing. It was smooth. Since Yuri didn’t normally like whiskey, he wasn’t sure if that was a sign of quality liquor or his worsening condition. Either way, he said, “fuck it.”

Meanwhile, Phichit weaved his way through the crowd until he finally spotted Chris and Victor sitting in the far-end corner of the room.

“Mind if I join you?”

Phichit sat next to Chris, who noticed that he didn’t have a drink and offered a little bit of his. Phichit refused, staying focused on the mission at hand.

“Phichit, right?” Victor asked. He knew Phichit from Chris and Yuri’s stories, but they had never met in person. “Yuri’s told me a lot about you.”

“I can say the same thing about you.”

Phichit’s response elicited a smile from Victor.

“Where is he?” Victor asked. “He’s not with you?”

“Oh, he’s at the bar.”

“Is he okay?”

“Hmm, I’ve seen him worse.”

Phichit’s nonchalance was no consolation. Concerned, Victor excused himself to find Yuri, leaving the two men alone.

Phichit wasted no time and turned to Chris as soon as Victor was out of sight. “I’ll get straight to the point. You and Victor, what’s the deal?”

Chris smirked, “I assume Yuri told you about our conversation?” He expected as much.

“Yeah, he’s not taking it well, but by the look on your face, you probably already knew that.”

Phichit had spent enough time with Chris to know that he loved to stir the pot. They both loved drama. They made a living off of it.

“I only told him the truth. Victor and I met through mutual friends who thought it would be fun to set us up together. We dated, and that was that.”

“Why’d you break up?”

“I wouldn’t say we broke up. We were never together. After the third date, we realized that we were better off as friends. Don’t get me wrong,” he explained further, “we definitely hit it off, but there was no romantic chemistry.”

“Did you sleep with him?”

“Once.”

“How was it?”

“Good. Great, really, but it was a one-time thing. I was willing to keep working at it, but Victor was the one who insisted on keeping it platonic. It worked out for the best.”

“Did you tell Yuri that?”

“I may have left out that small detail, but in my defense, he never asked.”

Chris shrugged, still wearing a smug smile on his face. Phichit shoved him, but his actions were more playful than admonishing. He should have been more upset at him for toying with his best friend, but he knew he wasn’t being malicious. Phichit of all people knew how much fun it was to get Yuri riled up. Besides, Chris didn’t know Yuri. He couldn’t have known how much his little joke would affect him. As the night progressed, it would become clear that neither of them did.

Meanwhile, Victor elbowed his way across the room until he had a full view of everyone seated at the bar. He saw Yuri, who was staring intensely at his drink, seemingly deep in thought. It was his third glass (and sixth drink) of the night. Victor walked toward him. Yuri noticed but pretended not to.

Victor came up to him with his signature smile. He leaned against the bar, carefully set down his drink, and pushed his hair away from his eyes. “Hi.”

His actions were probably rehearsed, Yuri thought bitterly. He’d probably approached plenty of men like that at bars.

“Are you trying to pick me up? Because it’s not working,” Yuri said sternly.

“Ah, you saw right through me! And here I thought I was going to score the most beautiful person at the bar tonight.”

“Hmph.” Yuri turned his face away, lips in a pout. His cheeks were red from the alcohol, but he would be lying if he said that Victor’s compliment didn’t contribute to it.

Victor asked himself how it was possible for someone to make sulking look that adorable. If Yuri weren’t so upset—about what, Victor had yet to discover—he would have kissed him right then and there.

“Yuri, did I do something to upset you?”

Yuri kept his eyes on his drink. His fingers tapped the side of the glass.

“You never told me that you used to date Chris.”

“What?” Victor blurted out without thinking.

“Don’t play dumb!” Yuri glared. “Chris told me.”

“No, no, I’m not denying that we dated. We did, briefly. I guess I didn’t think it was a big enough deal to mention.”

“Well, you should have told me,” Yuri sighed, huffing and puffing a few more times with brows furrowed. He was unconsciously swaying back and forth in his seat.

Victor’s worry turned into amusement. Yuri wasn’t upset at him, not really. He was, well, drunk first and foremost, but more importantly, he was jealous! Yuri was jealous, and that made Victor oddly happy. He was certain that sober Yuri wouldn’t have cared as much about his history with Chris, or at the very least wouldn’t have let it show.

“Yuri, I didn’t take you to be the jealous type,” Victor teased.

“I’m not!” The pout was back again with full force, his face bright red. “I just—it’s just…”

Victor smiled and placed a hand on Yuri’s knee to calm him. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I should have told you. I’ll even answer any questions you have to make it up to you.”

Yuri looked at Victor with a softened expression. He was still wary, but Victor had won him over with that stupid heart-shaped smile. He was annoyed at himself for being so weak for him. “…Okay…”

“Victor!”

Victor and Yuri turned around to see Georgi waving at them from the exit.

“We’re walking to Casey’s! Let’s go!” He shouted across the room.

Yuri thanked Nishigori, and the two of them, along with Chris and Phichit, headed to the third and final bar. Yuri would have to save his questions for later.

_________________________________________________

Bar #3: Casey’s (Irish)

When Yuri got up from his seat at Wolf and Crane, he felt wobbly. He tried to walk forward but staggered every few steps. He leaned on Victor (begrudgingly, since he still wasn’t quite over the whole ordeal). Thankfully, the next bar was only a block away.

Victor, on the other hand, was all smiles and happy to see another side of Yuri he had yet to meet. He would have been concerned about how drunk Yuri was, but if Phichit, his best friend, wasn’t worried, he didn’t see any reason to be.

They arrived at Casey’s, which was an Irish pub built underground. The bar was popular due to its affordable drinks, live music, and selection of games—billiards and ping pong tables, darts, arcade games, and even a stripper pole for the brave and unabashed.

Yuri, Victor, Chris, and Phichit walked in together and grabbed a table away from the main crowd.

“First round is on me!” Phichit got up excitedly from his seat.

“I’ll go with you. You might need help carrying drinks,” Chris offered.

When the two left, Yuri wondered which questions he should ask Victor. Should he ask him how he felt about Chris then? How he felt about Chris now? He fidgeted with his tie. The questions raced through his head, which was starting to ache from the alcohol.

Victor watched him closely. He knew Yuri wanted to say something, but he didn’t want to interrupt his thoughts or pressure him into talking when he wasn’t ready.

Finally, Yuri looked up. “Victo—”

“Oh my god, is that Chris?”

Yuri was interrupted by Sara Crispino and Mila Babicheva, fellow professors who were seated at the next table. Both looked stunned with their jaws dropped before breaking out in uncontrollable laughter.

Yuri and Victor looked at each other, confused. Then, they turned to see something that would be burned into their memory for a long time, if not forever: Chris, dancing provocatively on the pole in nothing but his skimpy underwear that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Yuri watched, shocked, as Chris masterfully slid up and down the pole, swaying to the music, and pausing in poses that could only be described as “advanced.”

Not surprisingly, Phichit was front and center with his phone, capturing every second of it.

Victor, having seen Chris’ pole skills before, could only laugh and shake his head. He whistled at Chris in encouragement.

Yuri turned to Victor with a wounded look in his eyes. Victor was enjoying—no, he was loving this. Victor was laughing and yelling “woo” along with the growing number of onlookers encircling the pole.

The drunken jealousy threatened to swallow Yuri whole. It made his blood boil. It made him want to storm away in a fit of rage. It made him want to punch Chris right in his stupid face.

But he didn’t.

He had a better idea.

When Victor finally noticed, it was too late. Yuri had already begun walking toward the pole, stripping his clothes off along the way.

It started with his shoes. Then his blazer. Then his pants.

Victor knew he should have stopped him, but he really, really didn’t want to. Instead, he watched, smiling and enamored.

“Giacometti!” Yuri yelled, slurring slightly and drawing the crowd’s attention in his navy-blue boxer briefs. The music stopped. “I challenge you to a pole battle!”

Chris dismounted carefully and wiped the sweat from his brow.

“What do I get if I win?” He asked.

“If you win…” Yuri thought for second, “you get a kiss from me.”

“Wait, what?” The statement caught Victor’s attention, and his head shot up ready to protest.

“But if I win,” Yuri continued, “I get to go home with Victor tonight!”

Chris whistled and turned to Victor, who looked partly surprised, party confused, and mostly ready to fight Chris if he even dared to get anywhere near Yuri’s luscious lips.

“Deal,” Chris agreed and sealed it with a handshake.

The two walked past each other, Chris with his amused smirk, Yuri with his icy glare. The tension (mostly on Yuri’s part) made the crowd go wild with anticipation.

When the music started again, Yuri tip-toed around the pole with one hand gripping it, hips swaying side to side with a sense of familiarity. Phichit had purchased him an annual membership to a pole dancing studio for his 25th birthday as a quarter-life-crisis joke.

Well, look who’s laughing now.

I’ll show Victor, he thought. I’m a pork cutlet bowl fatale who enthralls men!

With both hands above his head, he leaned his back against the pole and lowered himself slowly. His legs positioned wide, welcoming Victor’s gaze, which had gone from confusion to amusement to lust in a matter of seconds. He lowered himself all the way to his knees, loosening his tie and undoing the top buttons of his shirt.

Once he was on his feet, he gripped the pole with both hands and lifted himself up with ease. He spun around with his legs squeezing tight to support his weight, his back arched, and his head tilted back. Upside-down and right-side up. He turned and twisted, bending and snapping his body with a natural sensuality that mesmerized the whole room.

Victor was no exception. He was drawn to him and the way he danced like his body was creating music. He had never been so jealous of a pole before. He wished that Yuri were dancing for him alone, and he wondered whether he would if he asked nicely enough.

The song ended, and Yuri finished with a flourish of a hand and an arm extended toward Victor. It took Victor a second to realize that Yuri was pointing at him, but when he did, his heart skipped a beat.

Yuri’s performance roused a roar of applause from the audience, but before he could hop off the platform, Chris stepped forward with a bottle of champagne.

“Where do you think you’re going? We’re not done, chéri.”

And with that, Yuri and Chris were back on stage, the two of them drinking and pouring champagne all over themselves. They moved through poses expertly: Chris’ back arched on top of Yuri as he held him perpendicular against the pole; Yuri standing proudly on top of Chris’ powerful legs, which were in a wide split. Yuri had long since taken off his shirt, now down to his socks, boxer briefs, and tie. His body glistened with champagne. He had forgotten all about his jealousy, and instead, he was having a blast.

The upbeat music moved more and more bodies to the adjacent dancefloor. Even Victor couldn’t help but show off some of his funky-fresh late-thirties dad moves. Sure, the man was classically trained in ballet, but he was ill-prepared for the modern era.

Yuri and Chris eventually moved away from the pole, forgetting all about their friendly competition and joining everyone else on the dancefloor. Yuri and Victor smiled, dancing together without a care in the world. Victor loved Yuri’s silly ideas and happily played along. When Yuri tangoed, he tangoed. When Yuri wanted to be the bull, he played the matador.

As the dancefloor cleared, Yuri ran—as best as a drunk man could—toward Victor and wrapped his arms around his neck. He was still drenched in champagne, but Victor couldn’t care less. Unsurprisingly, he was more focused on the shirtless cutie grinding on him in his underwear.

“Victor, since I won the dance-off, you’ll be my boyfriend, right?” Yuri raked his lashes up at him, eyes sparkling with pure adoration through his blue-framed glasses. “Be my boyfriend, Victor!”

Victor was speechless at first. Yuri—sweet, precious Yuri—had just asked him to be his. Sure, he was drunk, and sure, becoming Victor’s boyfriend wasn’t even part of the bet he had with Chris, but he asked nonetheless. Victor’s stunned expression melted into the same affection that he felt on their first date. He looked down at his half-naked, champagne-covered dance partner with so much love that he feared his heart might burst.

“Alright, alright, quit harassing Victor.” Phichit peeled Yuri off the Russian man. Yuri whined and pouted, but thankfully Phichit was immune to those puppy eyes. “We should get you home.”

“No! I won the dance battle, right Chris?”

Yuri turned to Chris, who nodded and gave a thumbs up despite the fact that he had completely forgotten about their wager.

“That means I get to go home with Victor!” Yuri stumbled forward and clung to Victor, smiling blissfully at the warmth of his chest and the subtle scent of his cologne. Yuri’s drunk and sleepy brain thought how wonderful it would be to just melt into him and fall asleep.

“Should I call an Uber? We live on the other side of town.” Phichit looked at Yuri, who was barely able to support his own weight without falling over.

“You two can stay in my condo tonight if that’s easier,” Victor offered. “It’s a shorter walk.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude. Plus, he can be a handful when he’s like this.”

“It’s no trouble at all, really,” Victor reassured him.

Phichit thought for a moment. Yuri probably wouldn’t make it back to his apartment on foot. He also didn’t want to risk receiving a hefty fine if Yuri vomited in the Uber. And of course, for purely selfish reasons, he didn’t want to say no to an invitation to Victor Nikiforov’s home.

Finally, he said, “Okay.”

_________________________________________________

The next morning…

Yuri woke up to the smell of buttery pancakes and specks of sunlight dancing on his eyelids. He slowly came to, blinking his eyes open. He reached for his glasses on the unfamiliar nightstand and looked around the unfamiliar room. The space was bright, big windows illuminating the white walls and minimalist interior. Yuri would have enjoyed it if not for his throbbing head.

Where am I?

He felt hazy, but he remembered a few things from the previous night. He remembered his talk with Chris. He remembered drinking, a little too much in retrospect. He remembered dancing. Then, he remembered…

The stripping. The pole. The competition (and the prize).

Oh god.

He looked around again and saw piles of Russian novels stacked against every corner. The realization hit him harder than the tequila did.

I’m in Victor’s condo.

Yuri panicked.

How did I get here?

He racked his brain, trying to recall what happened after he stepped away from the pole and onto the dance floor. All he could remember was dancing with Victor. Everything after that was a blur.

Did I sleep with him?

He looked down. He was wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants. Neither were his.

The panic and embarrassment washed over him, urging his limbs to move, begging him to run or hide before Victor could—

“You’re awake!”

Too late.

Victor was standing by the doorway wearing a pink apron covered in flour. He was carrying a tray of fluffy pancakes, a bowl of sliced fruits, and a pitcher of orange juice.

“I made breakfast!”

“Oh, umm...thank you…” Yuri’s disoriented brain needed to calibrate. “What time is it?”

“It’s 11 o’clock,” Victor said as he placed the tray at the foot of the bed. “You should probably text Phichit. He was worried about you.”

Phichit. That’s right. He was there. Why didn’t he take Yuri back to his apartment? He would never leave him dunk and vulnerable like that.
“Is he here?”

“Oh, he left before you woke up.” Victor began pouring juice into the glass. “I asked him whether I should wake you, but he wanted to let you rest.”

Yuri was happy to know that Phichit didn’t abandon him in his drunken state, but there was still one more question he needed answered.

“Victor…did we…umm…” Yuri trailed off. His cheeks turned bright red, and his thumbs nervously fiddled with the bedsheets.

Victor knew what Yuri was thinking, and he wanted to dispel any confusion that could ruin their budding relationship.

“No, no, of course not. Phichit stayed with you. I slept on the couch. I just lent you some of my clean clothes, but he handled everything else.”

Yuri let out a sigh of relief.

“Yuri…” Victor placed a hand on Yuri’s knee. “You know I would never do that to you, right?” He had a genuine look of concern in his eyes that made Yuri adore him even more.

“I know. Thank you,” Yuri smiled. “I’m sorry you had to sleep on the couch.”

“You apologize too much.” Victor handed Yuri his glass of orange juice and leaned in to kiss him on the forehead. “But if you’re going to apologize to anyone, you should apologize to Phichit.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re the most rebellious drunk I’ve ever met.”

“Oh god. What did I do?”

“Well, first, you refused to change out of your dirty clothes, so Phichit basically had to tackle you down and change them for you.”

Yuri buried his face into his hands.

“Then you got upset because you couldn’t find your phone, so Phichit looked everywhere for it. It was in your shoe the whole time.”

Yuri groaned, “I’m the worst.”

Victor laughed. He left out the part where Yuri begged him not to sleep on the couch because he wanted to wake up next to him. He also left out the part where he promised to give Victor a private strip show for his birthday. He figured the pictures of Yuri’s saucy pole routine would sufficiently mortify him. He didn’t need the added humiliation.

As the panic made its way out of his body, the pain began properly setting in. Yuri rubbed his temples, but it was futile.

“Here, take these.” Victor handed Yuri painkillers. “You should eat too. It’ll make you feel better.”

Yuri swallowed the pills with his orange juice. Then, he looked at Victor and chuckled.

“What’s so funny?”

“You have flour on your face.” Yuri reached over to wipe the white powder off Victor’s cheek, letting his hand rest there tenderly.

Victor leaned into the touch. He placed his hand over Yuri’s and turned his head to give his palm a gentle kiss. “I should shower.”

Yuri nodded.

“Make yourself at home.”

Victor untied his apron. Yuri watched the muscles of his back flex as he pulled his shirt over his head. He wanted to join him in the shower and take in more of that sight, but his better judgment told him that a headache and steam wouldn’t mix well. So, he waited on Victor’s bed, eating the pancakes that he had prepared just for him.

There was something so intimate about being in Victor’s space. This was where he started and ended his days, where he unwound with his journal in hand, where he laid all his worries bare.

Yuri looked around the room, curious to see what else it could reveal about Victor. He hopped off the bed, careful not to kick the tray of food. He walked over to Victor’s desk. Much like the one in his office, it was organized and piled with Russian novels. Yuri recognized some of the titles: Anna Karenina, A Hero of Our Time, and The Brothers Karamazov (Victor’s favorite). His fingers ran through their spines, each one worn and loved. Yuri’s attention then turned to a framed photograph. It was Victor, Chris, Georgi, and Mila. They were in their graduation caps and gowns, posing in front of an old gothic building. Victor had long hair back then. He admired the picture until he noticed something on the far end of the desk. It was a paperback book, one corner peeking out from a stack of student essays. He carefully uncovered it, and suddenly, he felt the blood drain from his face.

It was his book. Eros’ book.

He held it up in disbelief. His heart beat faster, as did the pounding in his skull.

Why does Victor have this? Does Victor know?

Yuri rushed to find a different explanation, but they all seemed implausible. There was no way someone like Victor would read something as lowly-regarded as an Eros novel for pleasure. There was also no way any good friend could have given him the book as a serious gift.

No, there was only one explanation that made sense in Yuri’s mind.

His thoughts overwhelmed him. He wanted to run, but his feet wouldn’t move. His body felt like lead, cold and heavy. As he stood there, staring at the novel like he had just seen a ghost, Victor walked into the room with a towel around his waist.

His smile slowly faded when he saw Yuri holding the novel that he had purchased the day after they met. He had finished it and forgotten all about it. He didn’t even think to hide it when he invited Yuri and Phichit to stay the night.

Yuri turned to him, tears welling up in his eyes.

“Yuri…” Victor’s heart sank. “I can explain…”

Chapter 8: When Words Falter

Summary:

The one where everything falls apart.

Wanted to take a moment to thank everyone for being so patient with this fic. I know I disappeared for like...a year? Lol. But I swear, I have no intention of abandoning this work!

I appreciate all the comments and kudos. They mean so so much to me ; u;

Chapter Text

“Yuri…I can explain…”

But Victor couldn’t. He didn’t know what to say, except that he wished he had hidden the book better, that he had told Yuri sooner, that he could be anywhere else but there.

“Wh—why do you have this?” Yuri stammered, emotions overpowering his attempts to keep his voice steady. He felt rigid, frozen, suspended in space.

Victor was backed into a corner. There was no way out of this, and by the look on Yuri’s face, he probably already figured it out. He needed to tell him the truth.

“Yuri, I wanted to tell you sooner…” Victor took a deep breath, bracing himself for the storm ahead. He knew Yuri wouldn’t take his deception lightly. “I know about everything.”

It was the answer he feared, and hearing it out of Victor’s mouth brought him back to Earth. It made everything real. Too real. Yuri became terribly aware of everything he felt, all at once: confusion, anger, betrayal, sadness, and grief over the dreams and expectations he had for their would-be relationship.

He stared at Victor across the room. He didn’t bother to wipe the tears streaming down his face uncontrollably. “How long have you known?”

“It was right after I met you. Chris and I…we wanted to know more about you.”

“So, what? You looked me up online?”

“Yes, we did, but not to hurt you. We honestly didn’t know what we would find. We just…stumbled on it.”

“Right.” Yuri paused, biting his lip to keep it from quivering. “So, this whole time, when you asked me about my work, when you told me that I was good enough, that I should keep writing…you’ve known.” Yuri grew angrier, remembering all those times when Victor pretended to be ignorant, faked his tenderness, and played him for a fool. “All this time, you didn’t mean any of it. You’ve been reading my books and laughing behind my fucking back.” Yuri gripped the book hard and wrinkled the soft cover with his fingers.

Victor didn’t expect those words. They tore through his heart and made his chest ache. He fully expected Yuri to be angry because he lied, but he never expected him to doubt his sincerity, his affection. “Yuri, I would never—”

“Then why? Why didn’t you tell me? Is this all a joke for you?” Yuri threw the book on the ground and stood with hands balled into tight fists.

Victor had never seen anger shake someone’s whole body or distort someone’s face the way it did Yuri’s. He didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t good with people crying in front of him. The first thought that popped into his mind was to kiss him, but that would probably only make things worse.

“No, why would you even say that?” Victor walked closer, hoping that closing the physical gap would somehow mend the emotional chasm that formed between them.

Before Victor could reach him, Yuri stepped back. “Did you like the book?”

Victor stopped, surprised by the question. “What?”

“Did you like the book?” Yuri repeated slowly. He stared, challenging Victor and waiting for a response. The cold blackness of his eyes sent shivers down Victor’s spine. “Answer me!” Yuri demanded.

But Victor couldn’t. He didn’t have the heart to tell Yuri the truth. He didn’t dislike his writing, far from it, but there was something too contrived, too forced. There was an element of realism missing, perhaps because Yuri himself lacked experience.

“I, umm…”

“I knew it,” Yuri scoffed. “I know I’m a horrible writer. I’m nothing compared to you. That’s why I didn’t want to tell you in the first place,” Yuri explained as calmly as he could, but his chest and throat seized up with every other word. “This whole time, I’ve been wondering if you secretly wanted to stop seeing me. I guess I was right.”

“Yuri, please,” Victor plead. “It’s really not what you think…I…I…”

Victor wrestled with his thoughts. He wanted to say that he loved him; he was so sure of it. But he couldn’t. He was scared. Yuri looked at him with such pain and anger. Writers’ hearts are as fragile as glass, and Yuri’s had already shattered. Would saying he loved him make any difference? Yuri probably wouldn’t believe him anyway. Victor would confess only to get his heart broken. It was everything he feared. Heartbreak. Rejection. He couldn’t do it.

“I mean…I like you, Yuri.”

Like. He knew Victor didn’t mean it to be hurtful, but it was. Yuri’s fondness of Victor had developed into a feeling he’d never experienced. A genuine love, not like the temporary infatuation he had felt for his partners before. To hear Victor say that he only liked him felt like a hard blow to his stomach. But what did it matter? He was probably lying anyway. He couldn’t even say the word without hesitating.

“I just…” Yuri struggled to speak as the pain gripped his chest. “I can’t be here right now.”

Yuri rushed out of Victor’s room and looked for the exit. Being hungover in the unfamiliar space made his head spin. He was ready to have a panic attack, but he needed to keep it together until he was out of Victor’s sight. He leaned his hand on the wall while he scanned the area. He spotted the door, but before he could run, Victor grabbed his wrist.

“Yuri, stop. Stay, please, and let me explain,” Victor begged.

Yuri didn’t answer; he just sobbed. He felt weak, but he tried to twist his wrist out of Victor’s hand.

“Please…” he managed to whimper.

Victor’s grip weakened, and Yuri’s arm fell limply to his side. Victor felt guilty. He had already hurt Yuri enough. He didn’t want to keep him there against his will, so he let go.

When he finally mustered the strength to move, Yuri walked out, and Victor stood there, empty.

_____________________________________________________

 

That night, Phichit walked to Yuri’s apartment to find an unlocked door and the muffled sounds of sobbing coming from his best friend’s room. He had tried to text and call before coming over, but Yuri hadn’t responded. When he texted Victor asking for Yuri’s whereabouts, his only reply was, “He left.” Something was wrong, and Phichit needed to find out.

After letting himself into the dark apartment, he set down on the table a white cake with the words “Happy Birthday Yuri!” piped delicately on top with blue frosting.

He slowly opened the bedroom door. “Yuri?”

Yuri lifted his face from the pillow, his eyes puffy and moist with tears.

“Oh, Yuri…” Phichit walked over and sat him upright. He looked at his friend with worry and wrapped his arms around him, letting him bury his head into his shoulders and continue to cry. “It’s alright,” Phichit consoled him. He wanted to ask him what was wrong, he wanted to know what happened between him and Victor, but he knew it wasn’t the right time. Instead, he stayed with Yuri, cradling him in his arms, letting the tears soak through his shirt, until both of them fell asleep.

 

_________________________________________

 

When morning came, Phichit gently shook his friend awake.

“Good morning,” Phichit greeted Yuri as quietly as he could, letting him adjust to the sunlight.

“Hey,” Yuri replied. He sat up, wiping drool from the corners of his mouth. He had gone through the wildest emotional roller coaster that he could hardly remember everything that transpired. He remembered the fight, but he couldn’t remember when or how he got home. He couldn’t remember when Phichit came or how he even got into the apartment, but he did remember the comfort of his presence that lulled him to sleep. “Umm, thank you for staying with me last night.”

Phichit smiled. “Of course. It was the least I could do for your birthday. I’m sorry we didn’t get to celebrate.”

His birthday. Right. Yuri had completely forgotten his own birthday. He had turned thirty-four without even realizing it. He wondered if Victor remembered.

“It’s alright. Not much to celebrate anyway.”

“Uh uh, no self-loathing today.” Phichit shook his index finger in Yuri’s face. “I’m not going to ask you what happened yesterday. You’re free to tell me if you want, but whatever it was, we’re going to have a good day today. I already cleared out my schedule for you, so I won’t have you talking trash about my best friend like that, okay?”

Yuri managed a weak chuckle. Phichit always knew how to make him feel better, even when he himself didn’t. “Okay,” he replied.

“Good! Now get showered. We’re getting brunch, my treat!”

As Yuri stripped down in the bathroom, he realized that he still had Victor’s clothes on. He took the shirt off and pressed the fabric to his face, taking in Victor’s intoxicating scent. It overwhelmed him. After he left, he didn’t know where he and Victor stood. He didn’t know whether they could come back from that argument. Just the thought of losing Victor forever made Yuri miss him even more. He tossed the shirt aside before his tears could take over again. He hopped into the shower and imagined that the water rolling off his back washed away all the emotions that weighed heavily on him. He stepped out feeling slightly lighter and more determined to have a good day, like his best friend (so lovingly) demanded.  

After the two friends finished getting ready, they put the cake in the fridge and made their way to their usual brunch spot. First order of business: mimosas. Phichit ordered bottomless, which he would have done anyway, but today, it was imperative.

“Cheers to another year of life!” Phichit said as the two clinked their champagne glasses together. “How does thirty-four feel?”

Yuri shrugged. “Better now.” It was the most honest response he could muster.

“I’m glad,” Phichit smiled, but Yuri could tell that he was dying to get more information out of him. He appreciated Phichit’s effort to let him process his emotions before asking questions. Yuri knew that he respected his privacy (even though his meddling made it seem like he didn’t sometimes), and he loved him for it. He decided that he would tell him. He needed his honesty now more than ever.

“Victor and I had a fight last night.”

“Oh.” Phichit was genuinely surprised. Usually, it took Yuri a few days to open up about a problem, especially relationship issues. “What happened?”

Yuri took a gulp of his mimosa before proceeding. “He knows…about Eros. He said he’s known for a while.”

Phichit knew this was a big deal. Even though Yuri was passionate about erotic fiction, he was so insecure about his writing. There was a reason why he used an alias. He had never told any of his partners about it, and he knew how anxious he was about telling Victor because of his prestige in the literary world.

“What? How? How long is a while?”

“He said he and Chris looked me up online after he met me.”

That stupid Chris! I can’t believe he didn’t tell me, Phichit thought.

“I’m not sure where they found that information, but he bought my book and read it.”

“Oh my god.” Phichit nearly choked on his drink. “Well…what did he think?” he hesitated.

“I asked him if he liked it…” Yuri looked down. “He couldn’t even answer. He just stood there.”

Phichit gave Yuri a sympathetic look and reached for his hand. “I’m sorry, Yuri.”

“I should’ve expected it. I mean, I did expect it, but hearing it person just…hurt…more than I thought it would.”

“Are you more hurt because he didn’t like your book or because he lied to you?”

“Both, I guess. Honestly, I’m more hurt that he pretended to care…” Yuri trailed off. He paused as his emotions bubbled up into his chest again. He took a deep breath before continuing, “He was so kind and encouraging, telling me that I could keep writing, that I shouldn’t give up. But it was all a big joke.” Yuri finished off his glass and poured himself another.

“What makes you think he wasn’t being serious?”

“I don’t know...why else would he lie to me about it? He could have told me…he should have told me.”

“Yeah, he should have. That was his mistake,” Phichit conceded, “but maybe he had his reasons?”

Phichit didn’t know Victor too well, but based on what Chris and Yuri have told him, and based on what he observed a few nights ago at the bar, Victor really cared about Yuri. Victor didn’t give Phichit that same slimy, gross feeling he’d felt with the other assholes Yuri dated, albeit they were only around for two weeks, max. He was so sure Victor was different.

“What other reason could he possibly have?” Yuri asked.

“I don’t know. Just a thought.”

Phichit had a feeling that there was something missing from the story. It didn’t make sense. Victor was a busy guy who prioritized his work above all else. Someone like that wouldn’t have time to play games, so why would he waste his time stringing along a co-worker if he didn’t actually care about him?

“Do you think you’ll try talking to him any time soon?” Phichit wanted to tell Yuri to talk to Victor, but his already fragile writing ego had been crushed. It was too much to ask of him so soon.

“Hmm,” Yuri sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t think I’m ready. Whatever his reasons were, it doesn’t make the experience any less humiliating. I feel so stupid for…for falling for him…”

“You’re right, and I’m sorry that happened to you. Whatever you decide to do, I’m here to support you,” Phichit reassured.

“I know, thank you.” Yuri smiled, knowing that no matter what, he wouldn’t be alone.

Just as the waiter set down their food, Yuri realized that he still had Victor’s clothes, and Victor his. “Ah, shit.”

“What?”

“I left my clothes at Victor’s place…”

“Do you need them? You have a closetful.”

“I left my good blazer, and I need it for a panel this Friday. I also have his clothes at my place.”

“Hmm,” Phichit thought out loud, “I can drop off his stuff and pick up yours for you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course!” Phichit was more than happy to oblige; it was the perfect excuse to talk to Victor in person. Just because Yuri didn’t want to know the whole story, didn’t mean he needed to miss out. “I’ll stop by after work tomorrow. When does his last class end?”

“On Mondays he’s done by 3:00, and then he has office hours from 3:30 to 5:00. He should be home after that if he’s not working on an article or something.” Yuri surprised himself with how much he knew Victor’s schedule like the back of his hand.

“Great! Then I’ll drop by around 6:00 to do the exchange.”

“What if…he asks about me?”

“Well, what do you want me to say?”

“Umm…” Yuri didn’t know what he wanted. Should he pretend to be happy and shove that in Victor’s face? Should he tell him that he was a wreck to make him feel guilty about what he’d done? All those things seemed too manipulative, but Victor deserved it, right? “Just tell him that…I need some space.”

“You got it.”

“Thanks, Phichit. I honestly don’t know where I’d be without you.”

Phichit chuckled, “I know.”

 

________________________________________

 

That Monday, Victor made his way to work after two sleepless nights. He hasn’t stopped thinking about Yuri. The guilt had eaten away at his motivation to do anything: write, cook, clean. He was starving, but he couldn’t stomach much more than a few bites per meal. The past two days felt wretched, and it showed. For the first time in the young professor’s career, he showed up to work in jeans, a wrinkled short-sleeve polo, and an oversized zip-up sweater. His face looked a sickly pale instead of its usual rose-and-ivory complexion, and the bags under his eyes made his face look older and sunken. It was hard not to notice, and everyone turned their heads in horror the minute he walked into the department.

As he made his way to his office, he saw Chris waiting on one of the sofas. He stood up to greet Victor, visibly shocked by his disheveled appearance.

“Umm…wow.”

“What?” Victor asked apathetically as he unlocked his door.

“Rough weekend?” Chris followed Victor inside and made himself at home on the navy couch. “I’ve been trying to reach you since Saturday. I wanted to know how things with you and Yuri went after we left the bar.”

Victor dropped his bag on the floor and sank into the couch next to Chris. He turned his head toward him and let out a deep, defeated sigh. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I don’t know how things are with me and Yuri.”

“Oh no, what happened, mon ange? You two were having a blast at Casey’s.”

“We were, it was incredible, but the morning after…” Victor buried his face in his palms. “I was so careless. He found the book.”

“What book?”

The book, Chris. His book. The one I wasn’t supposed to know about.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“Yeah, oh fuck is right.”

“How did he react?”

Victor told Chris everything that happened that night, but he couldn’t even begin to explain the hurt in Yuri’s eyes, or the anger and confusion that he must have felt. The lies, the utter betrayal. Even though Victor didn’t mean to hurt him, he knew how terrible everything must have seemed to Yuri. He wanted to inspire him to keep writing because he saw his potential, but he probably crushed whatever drive he had left to pursue his dreams.

“I’m sorry to hear that, chéri. But I am confused about one thing…why didn’t you just tell him how you really felt?”

After his talk with Victor at the café, Chris felt happy and excited for him and his newfound love. He wasn’t just rooting for Victor to score like usual; he was rooting for him to get the boy and live happily ever after. As his best friend, he knew Victor’s feelings were real, and surely Yuri would have understood that if Victor had just told him.

“I mean, I tried…” Victor felt ashamed at himself for lying about his feelings at the most crucial time. In that moment, confessing his love didn’t seem like the right move. His fear took over, and he ended up hurting Yuri even more. “I froze. I didn’t know what to say.”

“I’m sure it was hard for you. You did what you could at the time, but it’s a new day, chéri,” Chris encouraged his weary friend. “I think you two should have a proper talk.”

Victor sighed, “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Of course, I am!” Chris said confidently.

Victor chuckled. It was the first time since the fight that he’d laughed or smiled at anything.

“I’ll try talking to him today.”

“Good.” Chris squeezed Victor’s shoulder before standing up. “Oh, and please start taking care of yourself again. I hate seeing you like this.”

Victor nodded, and Chris walked back to his office to prepare for his Theatrical Combat class (those prop swords won’t swing themselves!)

After Chris left, Victor walked to the bathroom, stared at himself in the mirror, and splashed water on his face. He had used up the extra shirt in his drawer when Yuri spilled coffee on him during the first department meeting, so he had no choice but to stay in his raggedy clothing. He kept his door open, vigilant for the first sign of the Japanese professor.

Yuri should have been in at 10:00 a.m. for office hours, but it was already noon, and he was nowhere in sight. Victor began worrying. What if he got into an accident? What if…what if he died! He slapped himself in the face, trying to get a grip. It was difficult considering he hadn’t heard from Yuri despite his numerous texts and phone calls. Getting restless, Victor began pacing in his office. His class was starting in thirty minutes, and he couldn’t focus. Finally, he walked to Yuri’s office, where he noticed a sign posted on the door:

“Professor Katsuki’s office hours will now be held by appointment only. Please schedule through email: [email protected]

Is he serious? Is he really going through all these lengths to avoid me?

As the week went on, Victor would quickly realize that, yes, Yuri was very serious.

________________________________________

 

After Victor returned home from an exhausting day of lectures, meetings, but mostly anxious waiting, the sound of the doorbell got his hopes up. He rushed to the door, expecting to find Yuri, but instead—

“Oh, hey, Phichit.” Victor didn’t even try to hide the disappointment in his voice.

“I know I’m not Yuri,” Phichit acknowledged, “but I come bearing gifts.” He lifted up a brown bag carrying Victor’s newly washed shirt and sweatpants. “Can I come in?”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Victor held the door open for the theater professor as he strolled in. “Yuri’s clothes are in my room. I’ll go get them.”

Phichit sat himself down on the couch. Victor left his guest and returned with crisply ironed slacks and dress shirt, steamed blazer, and polished shoes.

“Everything’s clean. I also steamed the blazer. I know he has a panel coming up this week, so…you know…just in case.”

Phichit smiled, “Thanks, I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.” 

Victor. Sweet Victor. How could Yuri think that he doesn’t care about him? Who the fuck steams a blazer for someone they don’t care about? That’s some next-level domestic shit, Phichit thought.

Victor placed the items next to Phichit, who showed no intent of leaving any time soon. “So, is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Yeah, actually, if this isn’t a bad time, I wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh, umm, yeah, of course. Why don’t we talk in the kitchen? Do you want something to drink?”

“Wine sounds nice.”

“Good. I was just about to pour myself a glass.”

The two made their way to the kitchen, a modest open-concept space with a blue-tile backsplash that popped against the lavender-gray cabinets and white walls. Victor poured a generous glass of chianti for both of them and sat down at the marble island.

“So, what did you want to talk about?”

Phichit swirled his glass. “I’m sure you have some idea.”

“Yuri sent you, right?”

“Technically, yes. But I volunteered to come. I’m here to talk because I want to know what the hell happened on Saturday.”

“So, he didn’t send you to talk to me?”

“No, but if you’re curious about how he’s doing, he’s alright. He said he just needs some space,” Phichit reported.

Somehow that gave Victor a sense of relief. He was fully expecting Phichit to bear the worst news, perhaps that Yuri was officially done with him, or that he would never write again because he felt so ashamed. If all Yuri needed was space, Victor could give him that.

“I’m glad to hear he’s alright. I was worried about him. He didn’t show up today, and he wasn’t answering my calls.”

“He probably won’t for a while. He’s pretty determined to stay away, but if it makes you feel better, that’s typical Yuri behavior,” Phichit reassured.  “Anyway, I want to hear it from you. I know it’s a sore subject, but when I talked to Yuri, I got this feeling that I wasn’t getting the whole story, so I wanted to see you in person. You know, hear both sides.”

“Right…” Victor paused and wondered, “What did, umm…what exactly did he tell you?” He was scared to ask. Yuri’s candid thoughts were probably harsher than the things he said during their fight.

“Not much. He was pretty distraught. Plus, it all happened on his birthday. I didn’t want to ask him too many questions and pour salt on his wounds, so to speak.”

“Fuck.” On top of their fight, Victor was now faced with the realization that he had completely forgotten about Yuri’s birthday. He felt like such a dick. He had wanted to spend the day with Yuri and take him out to dinner. He had even whipped up breakfast in bed that morning, but none of that mattered since he had forgotten to greet him. The fight was too much to take in. It was debilitating, and it ruined any opportunity for celebration.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it. I’m pretty sure it was the last thing on Yuri’s mind.”

“He hates me, doesn’t he?” Victor asked in a defeated tone.

Phichit felt bad for Victor. Whatever happened between them, Yuri clearly wasn’t the only one in pain.

“I can’t speak for Yuri, but I could tell he really cared about you. All he told me was that you knew about his secret and hid it from him. He thought you did it to make fun of him. It made him feel like you weren’t being serious.”

Victor shook his head. “That’s not true,” he said vehemently. “I didn’t tell him because I knew how anxious he was about it. I didn’t want him to freak out, so I thought it would be better to let him tell me when he felt ready.”

“I figured as much,” Phichit sighed. “Did you explain that to him?”

“Well…no…I didn’t know what to say…it was overwhelming seeing him so upset…”

“I don’t blame you. But in any case, Yuri’s convinced that you were just messing around. He even mentioned that you didn’t like his book.”

Victor sipped his wine and avoided eye contact.  

“Look, you can be honest with me,” Phichit said. “I’m not here to relay inside information to Yuri. I’m here to listen to you. I know I’m his best friend, and you probably think I’m on his side, but I don’t dismiss people until I get the full picture. I’ll always support Yuri, but that doesn’t mean I’m rooting against you.”

Phichit reminded Victor of Chris. His fierce loyalty, his unfiltered manner of speaking. It made Victor feel like he could trust him.

“Alright,” Victor resigned. “I wouldn’t say I didn’t like his book. To be honest, yes, it needs work, but Yuri is a talented writer. I can see it. He’s imaginative and sincere, and that’s what draws readers in, but…”

“But what?”

“It’s the sex. I don’t know how else to put it. It seems so…stiff, like—”

“Like he’s totally inexperienced and watches too much amateur porn?” Phichit interjected.

Victor chucked and felt a tinge of guilt for it. “Right, something like that. But apart from it, everything else is professionally written by any standard. I meant it when I told him he should keep writing. He excels at character development, and his pacing through most of the story is good, but the sex…god, he really needs to do something about it. It throws off the whole thing, and for an erotic novel, that’s problematic.” He tried his best not to sound too harsh, but there was no sugar-coating it.

Phichit nodded his head in agreement. “Hey, I’m no writing expert, but I totally get you.”

“Hasn’t his editor said anything about it?”

“Hmm, Yuri doesn’t take criticism well, so ciao-ciao just lets him be. All he does is encourage Yuri to keep at it. Otherwise, he stops writing.”

“Ciao-ciao?”

“Celestino, his old editor,” Phichit clarified. “I don’t think he knew what to do with Yuri. He wasn’t bad, but he definitely didn’t push him to be his best.”

“That’s so frustrating! He’s got so much potential!”

“Yup,” Phichit agreed. “If only you could be his editor.”

“Yeah, imagine!”

The two laughed at the preposterous idea and finished their glasses.

“Well, thanks for talking. I know fights with Yuri aren’t easy; trust me, I’ve been through a few of them. He just needs time.”

“Thanks,” Victor smiled. “I really appreciate that.”

“And to be clear, I’m not making any promises about what he’ll do or how he’ll feel, but I really do hope he listens to you when the time comes.”

“I know.”

Victor hadn’t given up hope, but his talk with Phichit gave him the reassurance he needed to stay patient. He tempered his expectations, understanding that Yuri wouldn’t bounce back from their fight so easily. Nevertheless, he had faith that if they could just get past this misunderstanding, his love would be enough to reach him. He had faith that his love for Yuri, which by now had dug its roots deep into his heart, would grant him another chance.

Chapter 9: Seventeen Hours Later

Summary:

The one where Chris and Phichit really outdo themselves.

Hi, all! Hope everyone's safe and healthy :) enjoy this early post!

Also, ya girl graduated from law school, whaaaaaaaat. I'll probably be slowing down updates in late June/early July to focus on bar study, so keep an eye out for changes in my schedule. Thank you again for being patient! For now, I will continue to post new chapters every two weeks.

Chapter Text

December trudged on like heavy boots on mud. The days passed mercilessly slow as Victor waited on any word from Yuri. In addition to minimizing his time in the department by making office hours appointment-only, Yuri also kept his door closed on the rare occasions that he was around. He grabbed all his lecture materials well after Victor had left for the day and only came into the department when he was certain Victor would be away. So, as much as Victor tried to be optimistic, Yuri’s knowledge of his schedule trampled on any hope he had that they would run into each other. He thought about going to his apartment or catching him outside the lecture hall after his classes, but Yuri needed space, and he respected that. Victor was grateful to be consumed by work. The last month of the year signaled the beginning of finals season, and the task of writing exams and grading papers kept him too occupied to hopelessly stare at the door all day.

Two weeks into the month, and the semester ended uneventfully. Yuri didn’t show up to any holiday parties, nor did he participate in any festivities like gift exchanges or mixers. Even though the halls of the university were marvelously decked, it didn’t feel like the holidays to Victor.

On the final day before winter break, Victor walked to the Theatre Department on the other side of University Hall to pick up Chris for drinks. Just as Victor reached for the door, Chris burst out, nearly crashing into him.

“Jeez, you scared me!” Victor jumped back.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“What do you mean?” Victor turned his wrist to look at his watch. “It’s 4:30, I’m right on time.”

Chris gave him a puzzled look before realizing that they had made plans. “Oh, right…” Chris looked left and caught a glimpse of Phichit barely exiting his office across the atrium and immediately retreating back as soon as he saw Victor. “I completely forgot. I’m sorry, chéri, but I have urgent matters to attend to. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” He fluttered his long lashes and stared at Victor with his best puppy eyes.

Victor was used to Chris’ “urgent matters” excuse. Sometimes it meant actual urgent matters, but usually it was something trivial like attending a last-minute art show or being called in as a substitute for trivia night at the local bar. He didn’t bother asking.

“Fine, but you owe me.”

“Okay, name your price.”

“Come with me to Barcelona.”

“What?” Chris looked skeptical. “Are you kidding?” 

Victor shook his head. “I’m serious. I’m flying in the weekend before Christmas to speak at a conference, but I’m staying an extra week for my birthday.” Victor waited, but Chris didn’t respond. “Come on, Chris, I need this. You know I’ve been in a funk with work lately, and now Yuri’s ignoring me…I don’t want to spend my birthday alone in a hotel room, not with everything going on…”

Chris sighed. Imagining Victor alone and drinking himself to sleep in a hotel room abroad on his birthday evoked the sort of pity that no one, not even the pitied party, enjoyed. As his best friend, Chris felt it his duty to help him avoid that sort of low.

“Umm, it’s a little last-minute…”

“It’s in a week and a half. That’s plenty of time to pack. Besides, I already booked the hotel, so all you have to buy is the ticket,” Victor insisted.

Chris thought about the offer. His whole family lived in Switzerland, and he rarely flew home for the holidays. If Victor was gone, he had no incentive to stay. They lived in a small college town; there was only so much he could do by himself over the break, even downtown.

“Okay,” Chris settled, “I guess I’m going to Barcelona.”

“Great! I’ll email you the details.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to rush.”

Chris walked out of the department and hid behind a pillar. Once he saw Victor leave the building, he circled back to Phichit’s office. Chris knocked, and Phichit opened the door and pulled him inside. The theater professor’s space was marvelously adorned with framed pictures of old performances and colorful, intricate costumes. In the farthest corner was a neatly-kept cage with three happy little hamsters.

“What the hell was Victor doing here?” Phichit asked.

“That was my bad. I forgot we had plans,” Chris explained. “But crisis averted, so no need to panic, mon ange; you’ll upset the hamsters.”

Phichit opened the cage and stuck his hand in. The three hamsters scurried up his arm and positioned themselves on his shoulders. He took a seat at his desk and leaned back on his chair.

“Good. We can’t have either of them finding out. That would spoil the fun.”

Unbeknownst to Yuri or Victor, Chris and Phichit had been in contact over the past two weeks, discussing the best ways to help their lovelorn best friends. After some back and forth, the two decided to meet on the last day of the semester to brainstorm ways to get the couple together. Their problem was a common case of misunderstanding, so Chris and Phichit were convinced that a simple, open conversation would mend the relationship. Unfortunately, since Yuri was still set on avoiding Victor, Phichit knew he couldn’t persuade him without vehement resistance. Chris also knew that Victor would want to respect Yuri’s wishes and refuse to meet for his sake. Given these difficult cards with which the two wingmen have been dealt, they chose a more surreptitious approach.

Chris took a seat on the other side of Phichit’s desk. “You know, I was actually surprised you agreed to this.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I thought you said you wanted to give Yuri time to process.”

“There’s a difference between taking time to process your emotions and avoiding your problems completely,” Phichit explained. “It’s been two weeks, and he can’t go anywhere on campus without being on edge. He can’t keep sneaking around to get to his own damn office forever.”

Chris nodded. “Agreed.”

“So, we need a plan.”

“We just need to get them to talk right? We could lock them in a closet together, seven-minutes-in-heaven style,” Chris half joked. If all else failed, physically dragging them into a room and locking them in until they hashed it out didn’t seem like the worst idea. Chris was always a tough love kind of guy anyway. Then again, he had grown tired of seeing Victor mope around, so perhaps that was just the frustration and impatience talking.

“How about no. We have to be careful. If they find out we’re up to something, they’ll run.”

The two professors sat in silence for a few moments before Chris had an epiphany. His eyes grew wide at the idea. “Aha! I got it!”

“What?” Phichit asked excitedly.

“This may sound crazy, but hear me out.”

Phichit leaned forward, all ears for Chris’ bizarre plan.

“Before Victor left, he asked me to go with him to Barcelona. Apparently, he’s attending a conference, and he’s extending the trip for vacation. I agreed to go, but I don’t have to, understand?”

“Hmm…not sure I’m following…” 

Chris leaned in and said in a scheming tone, “I’m saying, why don’t we send Yuri instead?”

It was crazy idea, Phichit thought, but crazy enough that it just might work.

“Interesting,” Phichit mused. “Send Yuri to Barcelona…”

“Think about it. Victor and Yuri, mutually pining in a romantic Spanish city decorated with twinkling holiday lights…”

“…During peak cuffing season…”

“…In the same hotel room…”

“…On a cold winter night…”

The two looked at each other with satisfied smirks.

“Fucking genius,” Phichit lauded.

Chris gave a small bow from his seat. “Merci.”

“This could really work! I’ll tell Yuri that I want to go to Barcelona for the holidays and ask him to come with me.”

“Will he go for it? Does he have family obligations?”

“His family’s runs an inn, so it’s a busy time for them. He never visits during the winter unless they ask him to. I’m sure I can convince him.”

“What if he asks you why you’re not flying together?”

“Umm, I’ll tell him I have to go earlier to meet with family or something. He’s my neighbor, so he’ll probably notice if I’m home, but maybe I can stay with you for a few days before he leaves?”

“Fine by me. Now we just need to get them together. Flying them there won’t be hard…getting them to meet on the other hand…”

“Maybe the hotel?”

“Hmm, no. Victor already booked it, so if Yuri checks in, he’ll have to use Victor’s name. They have to meet before Yuri gets to the hotel.”

“What about the airport?”

“No, they can’t be on the same flight.”

“Why not?”

“Well, if they see each other when they board, it’ll make the whole flight tense and awkward. They’ll either argue on the plane with a bunch of strangers watching, or they’ll bottle up their emotions and ignore each other completely. They have to meet after they land in Barcelona.”

“Then, why don’t you ask Victor to pick you up at the airport there? We can book Yuri’s flight after his, that way they meet at the terminal.”

Chris played out the scenario in his head before answering, “Bonne idée, that should work!”

“Great! So, the only thing left to do is buy the ticket!”

Chris pulled out his phone and checked his inbox for an email from Victor. As expected, Victor had already forwarded him all the information: flight dates, hotel reservation, even the conference schedule in case Chris needed to know his whereabouts. The two professors used that information to search for flights. They decided it would be best to fly Yuri in after the conference was over so Victor would have no excuse to refuse Chris’ request to pick him up. It also ensured that Victor wouldn’t be distracted with work matters while Yuri was around.

Once they chose a flight arriving on a Monday at 10:00 a.m., Barcelona time, Phichit hovered the mouse over the booking button. Chris stood behind him, hunched over the screen.

“Are we really buying a plane ticket to get these two idiots together in a foreign country?”

 “It’s the kind of convoluted plan that only two drama professionals could come up with.”

“Damn right!” Phichit proudly affirmed. “Barcelona, here they come!”

 

________________________________________

 

Yuri stood on the dimly-lit sidewalk with a carry-on and a backpack perched on top, waiting for his Uber to arrive. He had a flight to catch, and he was cutting it close. In a few hours, he would be on his way to Barcelona. He’d never been to Spain, but he’d always wanted to visit since he discovered The Cheetah Girls 2 in college (how he had never seen that masterpiece of a film before was beyond him). He didn’t know exactly why Phichit wanted to go—something about not wanting to waste away his youth—but he welcomed his invitation as a means to get away for a while. The end of the semester had been taxing to say the least. Between finals season, turning down numerous holiday invitations, and dodging Victor, Yuri felt beaten. So, when Phichit offered him a round-trip ticket, he said yes. This trip would surely lift his spirits before the new semester began.

At the airport, Yuri weaved through the crowed and raced to the security check. After putting his shoes and jacket back on, he zoomed through the terminals until he got to his gate. With just a minute to spare, he sent Phichit a text, as instructed, to let him know that he was safely boarding his flight.

Once he settled into his seat, and all the chaos had subsided, Yuri opened his bag and pulled out a stack of bound papers. It was the manuscript that Victor had nearly read after their pirozhki date. Yuri brought it with him with the hopes of finishing it. He had only written a few chapters before once again hitting a writer’s block, and he thought that being in a different part of the world would help his creativity. For a brief moment, after he met Victor, he considered returning to writing, but after their fight, he made the decision to abandon his dream forever. He would finish this novel, not to publish, but to have for himself. After all, he wrote it because of Victor.

As hurt as Yuri was, he still loved him. It was the first time in his life he had felt something so real. It was the first time he could write without pretending, without completely playing make-believe. He owed it to Victor, and that gratitude was enough to quell Yuri’s bitterness. Even if he wanted to, Yuri couldn’t hate him.

Still, Yuri felt deeply wounded, and he wasn’t ready to face him. Yuri had thought about talking to Victor and listening to his reasons like Phichit suggested, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He wasn’t avoiding Victor out of spite, and it’s not like he wanted to leave things the way they were. He was avoiding him because he felt humiliated. The idea of having any of his partners read his novels was terrifying, but having Victor Nikiforov, renowned scholar and prodigious literary expert, read his work was soul-crushing. So, as much as Yuri wanted to hear him out, he was too ashamed.

Yuri briefly flipped through the pages of the manuscript before packing it away. The pilot announced take-off, and instead of working, Yuri chose to sleep. Barcelona would await him on the other side.  

 

________________________________

 

17 hours later…  

Victor stepped out of his taxi carrying a bouquet of white roses, lilies, and eucalyptus leaves. He adjusted his Gucci sunglasses as the polished pillars of El Prat bounced late-morning sunlight into his eyes. He was there to pick up Chris. Apparently, it was the least he could do after making him buy an expensive plane ticket and travel across the globe. He even demanded a nice welcome bouquet because the trip would be such an inconvenience, and he’d always wanted to be greeted with flowers at the airport. Victor didn’t bother reminding him that he was only coming to Barcelona to make up for ditching him. He knew to play along with Chris’ theatrics, and he fully planned on making him pay for a nice birthday dinner after putting him through all this trouble.

He walked in, watching groups of people as they greeted long-awaited loved ones with hugs and kisses. It was five past ten. The plane should have landed by now. He could see the arrivals as they filtered through a sliding glass door. He sat down on the bench, facing it to make sure he didn’t miss anything.

Twenty minutes passed, and still no word from Chris. Victor had already scrolled through his Instagram feed and played a round of Tetris on his phone. He was getting impatient. He checked his messages to make sure he was at the right terminal. He was. He checked the time to make sure he didn’t mix up a.m. and p.m. He didn’t. He shook his leg as he slouched down and propped his elbows on his knees.

He should be here any minute now.

One minute...

Two minutes…

Three…

Four…

Five…

Victor looked up.

Time stopped.

He saw Yuri, standing frozen as the glass doors parted.

Victor’s chest tightened.

Yuri’s stomach turned.

They stared at each other in stunned silence, both imploring their bodies to move.

“…Yuri…” Victor tried to call out, but he could only muster a whisper.

Yuri’s mind blanked. What was Victor doing here? He was too shaken from the encounter and exhausted from the flight to think properly. He needed a way out, but there was no chance security would let him back in. He had no choice but to move forward. Once the signals from his brain finally reached his muscles, his legs bolted for the exit behind Victor. 

Victor was quick to react, reaching for Yuri’s hand before he could make it out.

“Wh—why?” Yuri asked with his back turned and head hung low. His voice shook. He couldn’t face him; he could barely even think about him without his heart aching and eyes watering. “What are you doing here?”

But Victor didn’t answer. He stepped closer. He held Yuri’s hand and wrapped his other arm around him from behind. He buried his face in his tousled hair, breathing in that familiar, comforting scent. His breath shook with each exhale as he tried to hide the extent of his emotions, but the joy he felt from being able to hold Yuri again was too much to contain.

Strangers maneuvered past them, turning their heads occasionally. But they just stood. The longer and tighter Victor held him, the calmer Yuri felt. He couldn’t explain it. He still felt wounded from their fight, but his body instinctively responded to his touch, speaking some carnal language that he couldn’t fully comprehend. His shoulders relaxed out of his ears, his back melted into Victor’s chest, and his hands let go of his luggage to reach up and cling to his arm. It was an unspoken truth that neither of them wanted that warmth to end.

Victor spun Yuri around to face him. He was on the verge of tears. His cheeks were flushed under the white surgical mask covering his nose and mouth, and his expression had softened after the initial shock. Victor pulled him in again, embracing him with both arms as if letting go would mean losing him forever.

“I’m sorry, Yuri…” Victor whispered into his ear. “I’m so sorry…”

Yuri still needed a moment to adjust before he could speak. He boarded a plane fully expecting to get away from it all, but instead, he was very much speeding head-first into it all. “All” meaning everything he had been avoiding since the fight.

Victor pulled away from the hug and grabbed Yuri by the shoulders. “I’m not asking you to forgive me, but please, at least let me explain.”

Yuri could see the earnestness and hope in Victor’s expression. A small part of him still wanted to run, but a bigger part of him knew that he should resolve this sooner rather than later. He looked at Victor and nodded.

Victor let out a big sigh of relief and smiled. “Thank you.”

“But…not here,” Yuri added. “I’d rather talk somewhere else, just…us.”

“Of course.”

Yuri didn’t want to have this conversation in public where others could whisper unsolicited judgment. He couldn’t be in such a crowded area if things turned sour. Victor understood, and he felt the same way. He scanned the area, but people occupied every inch of the airport. Even at a restaurant or café, there would be too many onlookers and untimely interruptions by waiters.

“Why don’t we talk in my hotel room? That way, we'll have some privacy.” Victor suggested.

Yuri hesitated, but he knew it was their best option, and if he wanted any chance of closure, it needed to happen now. He feared that if it didn’t, their wounds would fester, and their feelings would turn into resentment. He didn’t want that. He didn’t need to carry that extra pain. So, he agreed.

________________________________________

 

After their unexpected reunion, Victor and Yuri left the airport and took a taxi to Victor’s hotel. Neither of them spoke during the ride, but Victor kept his hand on Yuri’s. Even when they arrived, he didn’t let go until the very last moment when he had to unlock the door. Victor led the way, placing the bouquet down on a chair in the corner of the room and shrugging off his coat. His nervousness spiked as he heard the door close behind them. Yuri, who up until now had been so easy to read, was a mystery. For all he knew, Yuri was preparing to berate him and tell him to permanently fuck off. He was too afraid to start the conversation.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Yuri broke the silence.

Victor turned to face him. He was still standing by the door across the room, hands clenched.

“I should have, I know…” he explained, “but I was scared...”

“Of what?”

“Of pushing you away, Yuri.”

Unconvinced, Yuri pressed on, “What do you mean?”

“You seemed so ashamed of your writing whenever I’d ask you about it, so I figured you didn’t want me to know about it. I was scared that if you found out, it would have upset you.”

Victor was probably right about that. Had Victor told Yuri sooner, Yuri would have been embarrassed, and he likely would have needed time away from him to mull things over. Still, Yuri would have preferred to hear the truth from Victor’s own mouth. To discover it on his own felt like the ultimate betrayal.

“I was hoping you would tell me in your own time, on your own terms,” Victor continued as he walked over to him, “but I know I was wrong. I should have been honest with you because that’s what you deserve.”

Yuri’s hands unfurled as Victor gently weaved their fingers together. Yuri wanted to believe him, but he kept his guard up, afraid of being hurt again.

“Why did you read my book? If you knew I was ashamed of it, why did you even bother?”

“I was curious. I know you love writing, Yuri, and I can tell that you miss it. I just couldn’t understand someone abandoning their dream like that.”

Victor was right. He did miss it. Not a day went by when he didn’t think about it.

“But now, after reading my book, you understand, right? I’m no good.” Yuri shook off Victor’s hands and walked past him. He sat on the edge of the bed and stared out the window overlooking the sprawling Spanish city. “It took me years to get any publisher interested, and once I did get published, I was only selling enough copies to make ends meet.”

“But it doesn’t have to be like that, Yuri,” Victor insisted as he sat on the window ledge in front of him. “I—” he hesitated, “I can help you.”

“Oh yeah?” Yuri scoffed. “How?”

“You can talk to me, run ideas by me, anything. Whatever it takes.”

“Victor, you don’t get it!” Yuri raised his voice in frustration and wiped his tears with the back of his hands. “I don’t have what it takes. Plus, you have your own life, your own career to focus on. I can’t ask you to neglect that for my sake…”

“Yuri, I—”

“Victor,” Yuri interrupted. His voice shook, dreading the next three words out of his mouth. “Let’s end this.”

“…What?” Victor’s heart sank to the pit of his stomach. It was the ugliest feeling he’d ever felt. It made him sick. It drained all the blood from his body and made him shiver.

“You’ve done more than enough for me. Thanks to you, I was able to get through my first semester teaching.” Yuri placed his hands on his knees and bowed his head in gratitude. “Thank you for everything, Victor.”

Yuri felt simultaneously lighter and heavier—lighter because he had said everything he wanted to say, and heavier because he had just broken up with Victor, if he could even call it a break-up since they were never officially together. Nevertheless, it was the best relationship he’d ever experienced, and he had just ended it.

His words shattered Victor’s heart, and its shards pierced through him like bullets. His chest tightened from the pain. He could barely breathe. He felt the tears flooding his eyes until everything was a blur. He blinked them away as best he could, but they wouldn’t stop falling.

Yuri lifted his hand and pushed aside Victor’s bangs. He had never seen him cry. He was probably the most beautiful crier he’d ever seen. His tears sparkled like clear spring waters as his long silver lashes swept them away. Even his flushed face looked beautiful on his porcelain skin.

“What are you doing?” Victor asked, his tone both dejected and irate. He couldn’t believe the selfishness of Yuri’s decision. He couldn’t believe that he could just give up on them without a fight.

“I’m just surprised to see you cry,” Yuri said as he closed in.

Victor swatted Yuri’s hand away. “I’m mad, okay?”

“Don’t, Victor. I’m the last person you should concern yourself with. To someone like you…I—I would only be a burden. I think it would be better for you if you focused on work—”

Without thinking, Victor stood up, grabbed Yuri’s shoulders, and pushed him onto the bed. “How could you tell me to focus on work when you’re breaking up with me?” His voice hitched. He couldn’t stop crying. His tears fell onto Yuri’s face and raced down his cheeks.

“Victor…” Yuri’s voice softened. He reached up and cradled Victor’s damp face in his hands. “I don’t…I just…It’s not like I want to leave…”

“Then why?”

“Because you deserve someone better than me!”

Yuri’s own tears started to run from the corners of his eyes. He turned his head away as he tried to compose himself, but the emotions forced themselves to the surface, making his chest heave and his face burn up. He laid his insecurities bare, and all that was left for him was to do was leave. Victor certainly wouldn’t want him after that, he thought. Surely, he would realize it himself too.

All at once, Victor’s anger dissipated, replaced by an intense desire to prove Yuri wrong. Victor wanted to show Yuri that not only was he deserving of his love, but he was the only one he wanted and needed. Last time Victor saw Yuri crying like this, he didn’t know what to do. He panicked. He downplayed his feelings like a coward. But this time, instead of running away, instead of lying, instead of letting fear control him, Victor firmly resolved to show him the extent of his affection. He would leave no room doubt about his love for Yuri or Yuri’s worth.

Victor turned Yuri’s head forward and brushed the tears from his face before moving in. He started with a soft peck, barely grazing the surface of his lips. He savored their proximity, especially after weeks of distance and uncertainty. He relished in the warmth that radiated from Yuri’s skin. Unable to resist, he kissed him again.

Yuri didn’t expect it. Victor closed in before his mind could register what he was doing. He lay there after the initial kiss with eyes wide in surprise, heart pounding like crazy, body tingling from the electricity of his touch. He couldn’t keep his eyes off Victor, who lingered in front of him in anticipation. The image of the Russian man thirsting for him excited Yuri and reminded him of just how much he too had been starved of physical affection. Two weeks felt like an eternity. He had almost forgotten how good Victor’s lips felt, how intoxicating his cologne smelled when they were only a breath away. The second kiss was deeper but just as sweet. Yuri closed his eyes and melted into it. He didn’t want to think about their future or the consequences of their actions. He jettisoned all other thoughts and lost himself in Victor’s touch. He moaned as Victor slipped his tongue in and grabbed the back of his neck. Yuri had forgotten all about his shame and insecurities, and quite frankly, he didn’t care; he couldn’t deny his body the one thing for which it hungered and begged.

Feeling Yuri respond to his touch only fueled Victor’s desire. They lay there for a few minutes, entangled in each other in every way they could, bodies weaving and fighting for dominance as their tongues communicated silent pleas to go further.

Yuri wrapped his leg around Victor and used a hand to flip him over, rolling across the mattress until he was on top. He pulled away from the kiss and sat up, straddling the Russian man as he quickly unzipped his jacket and tossed it behind him. He spread his hands over Victor’s chest, feeling his muscles contract and his heart race beneath the cotton fabric.  

It was torturous watching Yuri pin him down and tower above him as he rolled his hips back against his hardening cock. He watched as Yuri pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his tight figure. If Victor was a statue, Yuri was a magnificent painting—fine lines, soft curves, and vibrant color spilling from his cheeks to his chest. 

“You’re so beautiful, Yuri,” Victor moaned as the heat continued to build where Yuri’s ass was pressing against him.

Yuri didn’t respond. Victor tried to prop himself up on his forearms, but Yuri pushed him back down. Victor enjoyed his unpredictable game, his fluid sensuality that could flip from submissive to dominant at any given moment. It was animalistic, and it excited him.

Yuri unbuckled Victor’s belt, feeling his throbbing cock twitch underneath the denim. He pulled Victor’s pants and boxers down to his ankles. He grabbed his wrists and pinned them down above him with one hand. With the other, he took Victor’s belt and wrapped the creased leather around his wrists, tightening it as much as he could before looping the ends in. Yuri had ended their relationship. He couldn’t have Victor forever, but he could at least have him now. It was his selfish wish, but one that he could fulfill, even just for a brief, fleeting moment.

Victor couldn’t help but smirk at the brazen show of power. He thought he would be the one showering Yuri with love, making him go wild with pleasure, but Yuri turned the tables on him, and Victor couldn’t complain.

“Do you enjoy toying with me, miliy?” Victor teased.

Yuri didn’t know what that word meant, but he loved the way Victor’s tongue folded in his mouth when he said it. It sounded sweet coming from his lips, and it made Yuri want him even more. He took off his glasses, grabbed Victor’s face from under his jaw, and leaned in until he was mere inches from his face. “Only because you enjoy being toyed with,” he responded with a punishing look.

The answer sent chills down Victor’s spine. Even after reading his book, Victor never could have imagined that Yuri was capable of saying such enticing things.

Before he proceeded, Yuri hopped off Victor, making him whine at the loss of that delicious pressure on his erection. Yuri took off his pants and underwear, and Victor’s mouth watered at the sight of his cock, hard and curving against his stomach. Yuri paused to look around the room. “Do you have—”

“There’s lube in my bag in the bathroom,” Victor offered as if he could read Yuri’s mind. Yuri looked at him suspiciously, and he responded with a shrug, “Never travel without it.”

Yuri quickly made his way to and from the bathroom, returning with a vial of travel-sized lubricant. Yuri poured the cool, viscous liquid and warmed it between his hands. He reached back and slowly rubbed his own entrance, inserting one finger at a time, gently stretching himself open to prepare. With the other hand, he stroked Victor’s cock, feeling it grow longer and hander in his palms. Victor licked his lips, taking in the incredible sight.

After he felt ready, Yuri positioned himself above Victor. But before he could give him what he wanted, he asked hesitantly, afraid of the possibility, “Umm…have you—since we last saw each other…have you…been with anyone else?”

Victor shook his head. “Of course not.”

With that answer, Yuri nodded and lowered himself down on Victor’s pulsing erection. He started slow, taking in just the tip, pink and slick with pre-cum. Victor’s hips greedily thrusted forward, but Yuri wouldn’t let him get ahead of himself.

“Are you going to make me beg?” Victor baited him even though he could barely string words together, too focused on the part of his dick that was already inside Yuri.

“You won’t even get a chance.” Yuri lifted up Victor shirt and bunched it up at his chest before placing it over Victor’s mouth. “Bite down,” he ordered.  

Victor happily obliged.

Yuri took his time, inching his way down, whimpering as Victor stretched him wider until he could take all of him in. Lust flooded his whole body, drowning him in waves of pleasure that swelled from the bottom of his abdomen. He moved his hips in circles, eliciting muffled moans from Victor. He looked down with lidded eyes, watching his partner throw his head back in pleasure.

Even though he couldn’t speak, Victor wanted Yuri to go faster. His hips bucked each time Yuri lowered himself down. He could feel himself getting more desperate, teetering over the edge. He wanted to reach up and feel Yuri’s skin, golden in the hazy winter sunlight. Everything about him was tantalizing, and if Victor’s hands had been free, he would have turned him over and fucked him hard and merciless.

Yuri met Victor’s pace with perfect timing. Their hips snapped together, the force of the impact shaking their bodies. Yuri leaned forward, panting sinfully into Victor’s ear. “Mmm, Victor—” He could barely speak, gasping for air as his cock rubbed between their stomachs. “Ah—does it feel good…being inside me?”

Victor nodded and quickened the pace. At this point, Yuri had almost completely given in, falling forward and letting Victor thrust into him as fast and deep as he wanted.

“Ah, fuck—” Yuri was close. He pushed one hand against the headboard, leaving enough space for his other hand to reach down and stoke himself in time with Victor’s movements. “Keep going, Victor, don’t stop,” he pleaded.

Victor could feel it. He could feel the rush of sensation building at the base of his cock, and he could tell Yuri was longing for that sweet release just as much as he was. Victor bit down harder on his shirt, his spit soaking through the fabric. With a few more thrusts, they finished, almost simultaneously—Victor spilling his cum inside Yuri, and Yuri splattering his all over Victor’s chest and abdomen.

Exhausted, Yuri collapsed onto Victor completely, disregarding the sticky mess between them. They lay together, catching their breaths in the static and silence.

After a few moments, Yuri sat up and untied Victor’s wrists, which were red and raw from friction. Victor removed his shirt completely and tossed it to the side before pulling Yuri in for another embrace. He kissed Yuri on the forehead and caught the slightest smile form at the corners of his mouth. It was the first smile he’d seen from him all day. Victor wanted to see that hint of joy again, so he wrangled Yuri in his arms and scattered playful kisses all over his face.                                                       

Yuri couldn’t help but laugh, “Victor, stop!”

“Oh yeah? What are you going to do to stop me?” Victor paused before continuing.

Suddenly, he felt his face sandwiched between Yuri’s palms. Yuri gave him a stern look before melting into a soft and sincere smile and leaning in for a quick peck.

That smile was like warm sunlight in December, and Victor could think of only three words to describe that feeling.

“Yuri,” he said as he held his hand, “I love you.”

Yuri froze with eyes wide and mouth agape.

“Ah, don’t worry,” Victor quickly added, “I don’t expect an answer. I know it’s sudden, and maybe a little too soon for most people, but—”

Before he could finish, Yuri shut him up with another kiss and responded, “I love you too, Victor.”

The two smiled at each other and laughed, amazed at how three simple words could make everything else—every argument, every doubt, every uncertainty—melt away.

“I’m sorry about the things I said earlier,” Yuri said, referring to his attempt to end things between them. “I didn’t know what else to do…I didn’t think we could recover from what happened…”

“It’s okay, Yuri. I understand. I’m not upset,” Victor reassured him. “Just promise you won’t run away from me again.”

Yuri nodded. “Promise.”

Victor smiled before letting him go. “By the way,” he wondered, “where are you staying?”

It took Yuri a second to process the question. “Phichit was suppo—" Before he could finish his thought, panic took over. “Oh shit!”

“What?”

Yuri hopped off the bed and frantically rummaged through his backpack to find his phone.

“I was supposed to wait for Phichit at the airport. He said he would pick me up. Fuck, I totally just left him hanging. He’s going to kill me!”

“…Wait…” Victor was slowly putting the pieces together. “You were supposed to meet with Phichit? I was supposed to meet with Chris…”

Yuri paused his search and looked up. “…On the same day?”

“…At the same terminal…”

Victor turned his head to the bouquet (the one that Chris had so fervently requested), then he turned to Yuri, who had also come to the same realization.

“Those sneaky bastards! I can’t believe they—I can’t believe we—”

“We fell for it,” Yuri finished the sentence, palm pressed against his face.

Victor sighed, then chuckled and shook his head in disbelief, “Well, I guess I can’t be too upset. You’re here, after all.”

Yuri smiled at the comment. “Maybe we should find a way to thank them then?”

“Sure,” Victor agreed, “but only if we can say ‘fuck you’ at the same time too.”

 

_____________________________________________

 

Meanwhile, across the Atlantic…

“You think they know yet?” Chris asked as he poured Phichit a glass of orange juice. 

Seated at Chris’ dining table, Phichit pulled his knees to his chest and took a sip. “Knowing those two, they probably just figured it out.”

“What time is it over there anyway?”

“Hmm, around 5:00 p.m. I think,” Phichit said through a yawn.

Chris placed a plate of waffles and a bottle of maple syrup on the table.

“Mmm, smells amazing! Thanks for letting me stay over for a few days.”

“Of course, darling. It was part of the deal.”

Just as they took their first bite, their phones buzzed.

“My, my,” Chris laughed. “I say we did a splendid job with these two, wouldn’t you?”

“Seems our plan worked a little too well if you ask me.”

Lit up on their screens were texts—one from Victor, the other from Yuri—containing the same picture and message.

[pictured]: A bathroom mirror selfie of Victor and Yuri, freshly showered, shirtless, and kissing with middle fingers held high.

8:04 a.m. Greetings from Spain!

Chapter 10: Because It's Your Birthday

Summary:

The one with minimal plot development, and everyone just has a great time in Barcelona.

Hello! We've hit double-digit chapters :O Not gonna lie, this chapter is all over the place lol. Not a bad thing, but thought I'd give you all a heads up.

As I said last chapter, I'll be slowing down my updates this summer to study for the bar, so this will be the only chapter I post this month. Here is my updated schedule:

July 3 - Chapter 11
August 7 - Chapter 12
September 18 - Chapter 13
October 2 - Chapter 14

Hopefully things will be back to normal after that. I'm not sure how much writing I'll get done over the summer, so I can't make any promises :(

Thank you for your patience!

Also, see chapter notes below~

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The day after their reunion, Victor and Yuri walked down the old cobblestone streets of Barcelona to a wine and tapas bar close to their hotel. The couple sat outside, enjoying the cool December air as they watched locals and tourists wander by. It was already high noon, but the two had woken up just about an hour ago, enjoying a well-deserved sleep after an emotionally and physically exhausting day. When the waiter arrived, they ordered glasses of chardonnay, a charcuterie board, and sandwiches.

“Your birthday’s tomorrow, isn’t it?” Yuri asked as he sipped at the buttery wine.

“You remembered?” Victor smiled in surprise. He hadn’t planned on mentioning it, especially not after he had forgotten his. He would have to make it up to him during this trip somehow.

“Of course! I wouldn’t forget my boyfriend’s birth—”

The word slipped out before Yuri could catch himself. He assumed that he and Victor were exclusive now that they had openly confessed their feelings, but was he naïve to jump to the conclusion?

Victor noticed his voice hitch, and he couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease, “Yuri, don’t be so shy about it. We’ve been boyfriends for a long time.”

“W—we have?” He asked incredulously. He knew he was dense, but dense enough not to know he had a boyfriend? He refused to believe it.

“Oh, Yuri,” Victor purred, elongating the vowels of his name and rolling his tongue. The sound would have delighted Yuri, but he was too focused on getting an answer. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember?”

The look of concern and confusion on his face amused Victor.

“Remember what?”

“When we went bar hopping a few weeks ago, we danced together, and you asked me to be your boyfriend,” Victor recounted.

Yuri’s cheeks turned pink as he unsuccessfully attempted to hide behind his wine glass. “I—I did?”

“Mmhm,” Victor confirmed with a smirk. “You even promised me a lap dance for my birthday.”

Yuri nearly died as he choked on the dry wine. Perhaps death would have been the better outcome, better than having to face the reality of his drunken actions. He would have spat out the drink, but he forced himself to swallow for fear of spraying an unlucky passerby.

“I—I mean…” Yuri answered timidly, “I could still…do that. Because it’s your birthday, right?”

Victor’s shock quickly transformed into a self-satisfied grin that stretched from cheek to cheek.

“I’ll hold you to it.”

____________________________________

 

On Christmas day, Yuri woke up to a knock on the door. As he lazily rose off the mattress, he saw Victor rushing to answer it in his hotel robe and a towel draped over his damp hair.

“Good morning, sir,” a man in a forest green uniform greeted. “You ordered room service?”

“Yes, please come in.”

The hotel employee wheeled a cart of pancakes, orange juice, and champagne into the room and left promptly after Victor thanked and tipped him.

Feliz Navidad,” the man greeted as he closed the door.

“You ordered breakfast?” Yuri asked as he rubbed his eyes and put on his glasses.

Victor brought the plates and drinks to the nightstand by Yuri’s side of the bed (the fact that he could even say that he and Yuri had designated sides for sleeping filled his heart with an indescribable joy that he’d never felt before). Victor was absolutely enamored. He felt that life was finally falling into place, and Yuri was the missing piece all along. Even seeing him now, with bed hair and drowsiness lingering in his eyes, Victor felt like the luckiest man in the world.

“I did.” Victor handed Yuri the plate of pancakes before sitting himself down on the edge of the mattress. He started pouring orange juice and champagne to make mimosas for them both. “Not just any breakfast, but I’ve recreated your birthday breakfast!”

Yuri recalled that morning. Even though the day didn’t end well, he remembered feeling happy to sit in Victor’s space and eat pancakes that he had made just for him. Yuri accepted and noticed a message written on the plate in chocolate sauce: “Happy Birthday” at the top, and “I Love You” at the bottom. Reading it brought a smile to his face. It was an affirmation that he and Victor felt the same way. They were together. Really, officially together. It still didn’t feel real as much as Victor teased him about it yesterday.

Yuri set the plate down beside him, careful not to get chocolate all over the white sheets. He watched Victor fix his drink. He looked ethereal bathed in the early sunlight—his silver hair glistened with specks of water, his skin looked almost translucent, his eyes sparkled like gorgeous sapphires. He hugged his knees into his chest and rested one cheek on them, gazing at his partner in quiet admiration.

“I love you, you know that?”

Victor turned, surprised by the sudden declaration. He set the flutes of mimosas down on the nightstand and moved closer. He ran a thumb across Yuri’s cheek and pressed their foreheads together as they stared into each other’s eyes.

“I love you too, Yuri.”

Victor kissed him on the cheek before pulling away and offering him his drink. Yuri took a sip before picking up the plate of pancakes and placing it on his lap.

“I appreciate the message, but you know it’s your day, right?”

“I know,” Victor responded, “but I wanted to make up for messing up your birthday. I wanted to celebrate with you, make it memorable, but instead…” Victor paused, remembering just how badly that day had gone. “I really fucked up,” he admitted.

But Yuri didn’t harbor any resentment. He raked his fingers through Victor’s hair, tucking a few stray strands behind his ear. “We both did.”

Victor gave a weak smile, removing Yuri’s hand from his head. “Come on, let’s eat.”

As the two leisurely spent their morning eating, talking, and laughing through mouthfuls of fluffy pancake, Victor promised Yuri that he would serve as his tour guide. It was Yuri’s first trip to Spain, and Victor had already visited a few times for work and pleasure. Even though Yuri protested, insisting that he should be the one planning the day for Victor, he wouldn’t take no for an answer. So, the two came to a compromise: Victor would show Yuri around the city during the day, and Yuri would plan Victor’s birthday celebration at night.

After breakfast, Yuri hopped in the shower, and once the two were dressed and ready, they embarked on their Spanish adventure. Victor made good on his promise, taking him to the main attractions and the hidden gems, asking a stranger or two to kindly take their photo in front of historic landmarks.

“Say perfecto!” Said the American tourist with his colorful fanny pack and Birkenstocks as he snapped a picture of the couple.  

Perfecto!

Yuri followed as Victor enthusiastically pointed out the remarkable Catalonian gothic architecture of Sagrada Familia and the vibrant modernist façade of Casa Batlló. He recited facts that he had memorized from previous tours. Even when he didn’t know shit, he pretended to be an expert, using his haughty academic voice to spout fake information off the top of his head.

“And at this historic café,” Victor said as he motioned to a Starbucks on the corner of the street, “famous Spanish poet Federico García Lorca drank his venti iced oat milk vanilla latte every morning.”

The tourists seated on the Starbucks patio looked at each other, half confused, half intrigued, alarmingly convinced of the charismatic man’s made-up speech. Yuri didn’t say anything. He just played along and laughed. 

After parading through the streets, Victor even took Yuri to Arenas de Barcelona to purchase new clothes (none of which were sweater vests or khakis, thanks to Phichit’s vehement objection over text). Once they hit most of the shops, and their arms grew tired of hauling heavy shopping bags around, they took a break at a restaurant perched on the building’s rooftop terrace and ordered paella (because no Spain trip would be complete without it!)

Salud,” they said in unison.

As the two enjoyed the savory dish, Victor asked, “So, what do you have planned for me tonight, miliy?”

“That word,” Yuri responded.

“Huh?”

“That word. You’ve called me that before,” Yuri recalled. “What does it mean?”

“Oh, right!” Victor had grown so comfortable with Yuri that he had reverted to using a Russian pet name without even realizing it. It wasn’t typical of him to use terms of endearment like that, especially not in his native tongue. Using them indicated a level of attachment that Victor had yet to reach with any of his partners. And yet, for Yuri, he didn’t even give it a second thought. “It’s similar to the English term ‘dear.’ I thought it suited you,” he explained.

“Hmm…” Yuri looked down pensively.

“Ah, if you don’t like it, I can just call you Yuri or—”

“No, no, I love it,” Yuri reassured. “I was just thinking that I don’t have a nickname for you.”

Victor smiled and wondered what he did to deserve this man. “Is there anything in Japanese you think would work?”

“We don’t really have any functional equivalents for terms like ‘honey’ or ‘darling.’ Most people just add a diminutive honorific.”

“Sounds like you’re about to give me some grammar lessons,” Victor joked.

“Well, I am a professor, after all.”

Victor chuckled. If he could learn a new language from anybody, he would pick Yuri in a heartbeat. “Fair,” he responded.

“Is there anything you’d like me to call you?” Yuri asked. 

“Umm,” Victor thought for a moment. Apart from Chris, he wasn’t accustomed to getting nicknames from anyone. The idea of using an English term like Yuri mentioned also seemed too contrived for his taste. “Well, for a while in Russia when I was younger, people used to call me by a different name, but no one uses it anymore.”

“What was it?”

“Vitya.”

“Hmm, Vitya…” Yuri said slowly, articulating each letter as if his tongue were trying something new and delightful. He looked at Victor with a pleased smile. “What do you think, Vitya?” 

Hearing the name roll off Yuri’s tongue made it sound sweeter than it already was, almost as if he could lick the word off his lips like warm honey.

“Perfect.”

Yuri smiled, “It’s settled then.” Yuri sealed the deal by reaching across the table and kissing the back of Victor’s hand. “Oh, and as for what I have planned tonight, you’ll just have to wait.” He winked.  

“Oh, good. As it turns out, I love surprises.”

“I can tell, you’ve been full of them today—running me around the city, taking me shopping.”

“And there’s still one more thing on the list.”

After the two finished their meal, they made their way to their last stop: Parque Güell. As they walked up the flight of stairs, Yuri admired the intricate mosaic animals and the colorful eclectic style of Antoni Gaudí, whose work defined so much of the unique and offbeat port city. Once they made it the top, Yuri’s eyes widened in awe.

“Oh my god, this is it!” He said as he ran across the plaza to an empty space on the stone-and-tile bench that stretched along the length of the park.

Victor trailed behind him, appreciating the simple joy that came from witnessing his partner’s excitement. “This is what?”

“The park! The one from The Cheeta—” Yuri stopped abruptly, realizing that he was just about to fanboy over an early-2000s Disney film that someone like Victor had probably never watched. They were in their thirties, for god’s sake. They were well into their teenage years when that movie came out, and by then, Victor was probably already too mature and sophisticated to appreciate such lowbrow media. “Oh, umm, nothing…just, uh—just forget about it,” he dismissed the comment.

Victor did his best to stay keep his cool, but seeing Yuri descend from eagerness to embarrassment proved far too adorable and amusing for him to handle. After a few seconds of desperate composure, he nearly fell over in laughter.

Yuri’s jaw dropped. “You knew?” he asked, but he already knew the answer.

“I—I’m so—” Victor could barely speak, each word interrupted by a fit of giggles. He gripped the stone railing, but he couldn’t stay standing. He was now crouched down on the floor, clutching his stomach, which had begun to cramp up, and wiping the tears from his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Yuri! Phichit texted me. I didn’t want to say anything, but you just—you just—” Another laugh attack. “You were so excited!”

“You should have said something!” Yuri could feel his face redden, from his cheeks to his ears Thankfully, he took no offense to Victor’s uncontrollable chortling. He knew it was a compliment, even if Victor was being a bit of a jerk about it.

Once he had gotten all laughter out of his system, Victor stood up and cradled Yuri’s flushed and pouting face in his hands.

“I’m sorry, miliy, but I wanted to surprise you! Phichit told me how much you loved that movie. I didn’t know you would be so embarrassed by it.”

“Of course, I would!” Yuri whined. “It just shows how different we are.”

Victor pressed his lips against Yuri’s, cold and lightly chapped from the frigid air. Yuri could feel a smile creep up Victor’s lips as he pulled away.

“We’re not that different, you know,” Victor said. “I actually really enjoy Disney movies.”

Yuri looked up with brows still furrowed. “Really?”

“Of course, especially The Cheetah Girls,” Victor said, laughter bubbling up from his chest again.  

Yuri rolled his eyes and turned his head away to hide the fact that he, too, was now smiling in absolute disbelief at how ridiculous, outrageous, and undeniably wonderful his partner was.

_________________________________

 

Just as the sun dipped below the horizon, the couple returned to the hotel, feet aching after walking miles on uneven streets. They traded their casual daywear for more elevated looks consisting of dark denim, single-breasted coats, and oxfords.

They hailed a taxi, and Yuri gave the driver an address to a restaurant in a bustling beachside neighborhood. Victor followed along, unaware of what the night would hold. They entered the restaurant, an elegant space with white-cloth tables and picture-covered walls. The menu paid homage to Catalonian cuisine with the finest seafood and freshest local produce, along with a diverse wine selection to pair perfectly with each dish. They ordered a bottle from a local family bodega, clinking their glasses together to celebrate.

“To the best partner and the best birthday ever,” Victor toasted.

Yuri beamed. If anyone had told him four months ago that he would be sitting in a historic Spanish restaurant by the sea with a stunning and charismatic Russian man whom he gets to call his partner, he would have ridiculed the idea. But now, that formerly inconceivable notion was his reality, sitting across the table, radiant in the candlelight.

But despite how amazing the trip had been so far, there was still one thought bothering him.

“I was wondering,” Yuri said as their food arrived, “when you read my book, what did you think, exactly?”

Victor looked up from his dish with a somewhat confused expression.

“Ah, you don’t have to answer the question. I know you didn’t like it, and I’m not upset, I promise. I just wanted know why in case, you know…in case I decide to write something else.”

Are you planning on writing something?” Victor asked, remembering the untitled manuscript he discovered in Yuri’s room weeks ago.

“Well, I am in the middle of something, but I wasn’t planning on publishing it.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not a novelist anymore. I’m a professor.”

“You can be both.”

“I’m lucky to even have this position, and I’d rather focus on what I have going right now than dwell on the past.”

“I suppose,” Victor responded plainly. No one, especially not Yuri, could convince him that Yuri didn’t miss writing. He could see that it pained him to give up on his dream, and perhaps it was his dissatisfaction with his own career talking, but Victor would do anything to see Yuri pursue that passion again. “Well, if you really must know, I didn’t dislike your book.”

“R—really?” Yuri asked in genuine surprise.

“I tried to tell you earlier. You’re not as bad as you think you are, miliy. You have room for growth, of course. We all do. But you’re a talented writer, and you can easily achieve that with some honest feedback.”

“In that case,” Yuri hesitated, “can I get your feedback on something?”

“I was hoping you’d ask,” Victor smiled. “Was it that ‘journal’ you tried hiding from me?”

Yuri nodded shyly. “It’s not finished, but I have a few chapters done. I—umm, I wrote it after our first date.”

“I’m happy to read it.”

“Then, I’ll give you a copy when we get back.”

“Good. Now, my turn to ask a question.” Victor finished off his glass and poured himself another. “Tell me, Yuri, out of all the subgenres of fiction you could have chosen, why erotica?”

Yuri took the bottle and emptied it into his own glass. “Hmm, I’ve always been fascinated by it—sex, I mean. It’s probably the closest you can get to someone physically. Don’t get me wrong, sex and intimacy are different things; trust me, I know, but when it’s with someone you care about, I think it’s one of the most incredible things you can do together. I’ve always loved that about it...”

Victor didn’t say a word. He listened intently, letting Yuri’s mind meander as it pleased. He had a feeling this was the first time he’d ever said those thoughts out loud.

“Even though I haven’t had the best luck finding both, I held on that idea. I kept imagining what it would feel like to have both love and sex. Not just attraction or infatuation, you know, but actual love. I wanted to explore that feeling and put it on paper somehow.”

Yuri waited, but Victor only nodded. There was a stillness between them, not because of any awkwardness or tension, but because they both understood. They both knew that deep appreciation for the written language and the power of storytelling. They both knew that desire to put into words something as ineffable as the human experience.

Yuri sipped his wine and finished his answer, “I don’t know, maybe I just read too much fan fiction when I was younger.”

The comment elicited a small chuckle from both of them.

“Another bottle, señores?” the waiter asked.

Victor and Yuri were so engrossed in conversation that they didn’t notice him until he was hovering over them with that classic service-industry smile. They looked at each other and said, “Yes.”

By the time they finished dinner, the wine had already worked its way into their system. It made the twenty-minute walk from the restaurant to the Fira de Santa Llúcia pass quickly as the warm blanket of alcohol made them impervious to the cold. It was the oldest Christmas market in Barcelona and took place every year in the city’s gothic quarter, in front of the Catedral de Barcelona. They walked in comfortable silence with fingers interlaced, watching the lights twinkle above them and admiring the assortment of crafts at each stand.

With cups of mulled wine in hand, the couple wandered away from the crowd and sat down on the church steps.

“Thanks for an amazing night,” Victor said.

Yuri looked at his partner, whose cheeks and nose were red from the cold air. “You deserve it,” he said, feeling immensely grateful to the universe for bringing them together.

“So, I’m guessing this is the end of my birthday itinerary?”  

“Actually,” Yuri added, “there was one more thing…but I wasn’t sure if you would enjoy it…”

“Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll love it.”

Victor would soon regret that statement.

_____________________________________

 

Victor and Yuri stepped out of their taxi and onto a dark street. Even though the ride took less than five minutes, the area looked less like Barcelona and more like an abandoned industrial town, complete with graffitied walls and steel scaffolding.

“Uh, where are we?” Victor asked.

Yuri looked around, more confused than concerned to Victor’s surprise. “It should be here somewhere,” he muttered to himself.  

They walked a few blocks until they heard the low sound of heavy bass vibrating through the air.

“This way!” Yuri shouted at Victor, who trailed behind, worried about getting lost or being mugged. Victor wasn’t a fighter, and his cognitive awareness had decreased significantly from the wine buzzing in his body. In other words, if anything were to happen, they would be screwed.

Thankfully, nothing did, and Yuri found it. “It” being a shady warehouse with an alleyway entrance guarded by a tall, stoic figure who scowled at them as they stumbled inside. The music grew louder as they turned the corner, and the heat rushed over Victor’s body as they entered the heart of the building. There was an ocean of people in the center, swelling like waves to the music that pounded in Victor’s ear. Overhead, there were swings and aerial hoops where half-naked men in sparkly red booty shorts and Santa hats dangled their chiseled bodies over the crowd. In addition to the platforms at each corner of the dancefloor, the DJ table had a runway that extended halfway across the room, where more dancers strutted their stuff in elf and reindeer costumes.

Victor couldn’t believe it.

A Christmas-themed Spanish gay bar.

He stood there in awe before Yuri reached behind and grabbed his hand. He pulled him forward until they reached the bar, which was far less crowded than the dancefloor. He motioned for the bartender and ordered two gin and tonics.

Yuri moved closer to avoid yelling over the music. “I hope this is okay?” he asked. He had discovered the event online, but he hesitated to bring Victor because academics had a reputation for being stuffy and unexciting. But Victor was nothing like that, and even though they had never gone to a club together, Victor was best friends with Chris, and anyone with that sort of company surely enjoyed an occasional wild night, right?

Still stunned, he turned to Yuri and said, “This is fucking incredible.”

Relieved, Yuri broke out in laughter, watching Victor marvel at the dancers’ outlandish display of acrobatics and delight in the club’s contagious energy that warded off any sleepiness he felt from their heavy dinner and drinks. Victor enjoyed the catchy beat, and without realizing, he swayed his hips and rocked his head along to the music. After a minute or so, he noticed Yuri, who watched him with giant smile and a warm expression.

“Would you like to dance?” Yuri asked.

Victor stopped, suddenly aware of his body’s subconscious movements. He turned away, hiding the deep red that spread across his face.

Yuri chucked. He had never seen Victor react so bashfully. It was certainly out of his naturally charismatic nature, but it was adorable, he thought. To save him from further embarrassment, Yuri grabbed his drink and handed Victor his. “Come on, let’s go!”

Victor took the invitation, letting Yuri pull him forward onto the dancefloor. Once they made it past the crowd of people and into a small clearing in the middle, Yuri turned around and draped his free arm over Victor’s shoulders, pulling him closer until their torsos touched. Victor wasn’t the best dancer (at least not sober), but he let Yuri’s natural, confident movements guide him to a steady, sensual rhythm. He loved watching him get lost in the music and kiss him occasionally when he caught him staring. He loved the way he backed into him and rolled his hips. He loved the way he bent over and looked over his shoulder flirtatiously to tease him. They had danced before, but this night was different. They weren’t surrounded by friends or co-workers; they were alone, together, in a sea of strangers. Victor could let his hands wander, running them over Yuri’s waist and hips, dipping them dangerously low under his waistband as he pressed him closer. The heavy bass shook Victor’s body, but he was sure that the pounding in chest was a result of something else. That night, he learned that dancing was definitely on his top ten list of activities to do with Yuri.

After a few songs, the couple walked back to the bar, wiping the sweat from their foreheads and beaming at each other in total adoration. They motioned for the bar tender to order another drink, but before they could get a chance, something (or more accurately, someone) caught Yuri’s attention.

Phichit?”

Yuri stuck his head out to see past Victor. Yuri almost didn’t recognize him at first with his sharp cat-eye liner and fishnet crop top, but it was definitely him. Just as Phichit looked up, his equally scantily-clad companion turned around to reveal another familiar face.

Chris?”

All four, almost simultaneously, said, “What the fuck?”

Chris and Phichit were talking on the other end of the bar in the sort of outfits one would expect to find at such events.  

“Have you been following us the whole time we’ve been here?” Victor asked as he and Yuri approached.

“No, of course not! We’re crazy, but not psycho-stalker crazy,” Phichit replied.

“Then what the hell are you doing here?”

“We felt left out after all those pictures you sent, chéri,” Chris explained. “We thought we deserved our own little vacation, so we booked some last-minute flights.”

“Plus, it’s a big city,” Phichit added. “We didn’t think we’d run into you, especially not here of all places.”

Victor sighed. So much for being away from friends.

“Well, no point in fighting it,” Yuri said. “We’re all here, might as well have fun.”

“You should listen to you man, chéri,” Chris directed the comment at Victor, who shot him a half-hearted glare.

“Fine,” Victor resigned, “but I’m not trying to get hammered tonight, so don’t even try, Chris.”

The Swiss man responded with a wink and blew him a kiss.

“In that case, birthday shots on me!” Phichit called the bartender.

“No,” Victor protested, “I literally just said—”

_____________________________________

Five shots later…

“How the fuck do they do that?” Victor asked the group, slurring his words and lazily resting an elbow on Yuri’s shoulder.

The four of them were now sufficiently drunk and crammed together like sardines in one of the club’s small makeshift booths.

“How do they do what?” Yuri asked.

That.” Victor gestured to the go-go dancers swinging from the aerial hoops suspended from the high ceiling. “It’s like cirque du soleil, but—”

“But gayer,” Chris interjected.

As the group continued their drunken admiration, Victor noticed a few dancers switch off on the swings and climb down a ladder, probably taking their break or packing up for the night. One of them walked to the bar, and Victor saw it as an invitation.

“Be right back!” Victor announced as he stumbled off in the dancer’s direction. Once Victor arrived at the bar, nearly tripping on his own feet, he greeted the man in the skimpy elf costume with an overly friendly, “hi!”

The dancer turned to him and smiled politely, not saying a word.

“You guys are amazing! Really, just incredible!”

The dancer nodded, fascinated but mostly confused by Victor’s comments.

“It must be such hard work. I bet it takes so much practice! I used to take ballet classes when I was younger, and I thought that was hard. I can’t even imagine what it’s like to be—”

Before he could continue his unsolicited rambling, the dancer waived his hands, signaling him to stop.

“Sorry, I speak…a little only,” the dancer said in heavily accented English.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t realize! I—uh…” Victor pointed to the contraptions and dancers dangling from the ceiling. “That up there! Really cool!” he said, trying to make as much sense as possible. He would have tried his broken Spanish, but he was absolute garbage at it, and that probably would have confused the man even more.

The dancer kept trying to decipher what Victor was talking about. He could barely understand his rapid, slurred English, but he could tell that he was gesturing at the aerial overhead, imitating the swinging motions and bouncing with excitement.

“Ah!” The dancer exclaimed, “You like?” he said, pointing in the same direction.

“Yes! I love it!”

The dancer pondered something for a moment before nodding and motioning Victor to follow. The drunk Russian happily complied, not even thinking to tell his companions or question where the man was taking him. They reached a shallow enclave with a ladder tucked away from the crowd.

“Come,” the dancer said as he began ascending.

Victor climbed behind him, dangerously missing a step every now and then as his motor skills had decreased significantly. Once at the top, the dancer led Victor to a suspended scaffold with a swing tethered to the railings. From there, Victor had a closer view of the performers, so much so that he could see the sweat and glitter shining on their bodies.

“You love it, yes?” the dancer asked.

“Yeah, this is awesome!”

The dancer nodded, pleased at the response. He felt happy that even with his limited understanding of English, he had guessed correctly that the Russian man wanted to give the swings a try.

“You do it.” The dancer said, goading Victor closer to opening between the railings until his feet were on the edge. Victor’s knees went weak, and his stomach dropped after seeing the sea of people below him. The sensation sobered him enough to finally question what the hell he had gotten himself into.

“W—wait, what are you doing?” Victor asked as he watched the man unhook the industrial swing and position it behind him until the metal bar sat right under his ass. He then looped a black canvas harness around his waist.

After he fastened the belt, the man looked up and smiled with a thumbs up. “Ready?” he asked. But before Victor could say no, the dancer pushed him off the platform.

Victor screamed as he swung from one end of the warehouse to the other, feeling his blood drain and his organs sinking. He hung on to the metal wires for dear life, palms sweating profusely from the unsettling sensation of being in the air. The crowd below him cheered as they slowly noticed the clearly inexperienced wannabe acrobat yelling at the top of his lungs.

Meanwhile, Yuri, Phichit, and Chris had begun looking for the missing man, concerned that he had passed out in the bathroom or gotten abducted. The three reconvened in the booth after looking everywhere.

“Nothing?” Yuri asked, concerned.

“No, I can’t find him anywhere,” Phichit said. “Chris, you’re his best friend. Where would he be right now?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. He has to be here somewhere. He wouldn’t leave without us.”

“Wait,” Phichit said as he strained his eyes to get a better look. The silver-haired figure was unmistakable. “Victor?”

Yuri and Chris turned their heads, jaws dropping to the floor as they watched their precious, stupid Victor swinging nervously from the ceiling. The trio rushed to the edge of the crowd, trying their best to yell over the music.

“Get down from there, dumbass!” Phichit hollered.

“How the fuck did he even get up there?” Yuri asked.

No one responded. No one had an answer.

Chris looked around and spotted one of the dancers in their recognizable costumes. He pulled the man aside. “How do we get my friend down?” he asked.

The dancer thankfully spoke better English than the one Victor had encountered. Understanding the ridiculous situation in which the group had found itself, the dancer disappeared backstage. A few dancers, including the one who pushed Victor off, had already gathered along the suspended scaffolds, urging him to swing harder until he could get his feet onto the platform again, but it was no use. He looked stiff as a board. There was no moving him. Finally, the dancer backstage instructed one of the crew members to lower the swing as far down as he could. The DJ paused the music as everyone in the club gathered around to witness Victor descended like a drunk, sweaty, and panicked gay angel from the sky.

Yuri, Phichit, and Chris pushed forward until they reached the clearing. They waited for Victor to reach the floor, but the swing stopped about ten feet off the ground. The dancer who spoke with Chris returned to the group.

“They told me that’s as far as he’ll go,” the dancer reported.

The trio looked at each other, waiting for someone to formulate a plan.

“It’s not at that high,” Phichit said. “Victor can totally jump from there.”

“It’s a concrete floor. He could break something,” Chris said.

“Maybe we can catch him?” Yuri suggested.

Phichit stepped back, “Not me!”

Yuri smacked his arm with the back of his hand. “I meant all of us,” he clarified, “we could make a basket with our arms.”

Chris shrugged. “That could work.”

As the three of them hooked their hands on each other’s arms to form a cradle, Victor undid his harness and prepared to dismount.

“Okay, now, just slide off!” Chris instructed.

But instead of letting gravity pull him straight down, Victor made the terrible mistake of leaning back before letting go. The weight of his body caused the swing to move, and the momentum propelled him forward, just missing the human safety net below him and drop-kicking a poor stranger right in the face.

The room gasped as the stranger fell back, holding both hands to his face and writhing in pain on the floor. Phichit and Chris were helping Victor steady himself when the stranger, face bloody and nose swollen, got up, grabbed Victor’s shirt collar, and punched him in the face. Victor was stunned. The room spun, and his left cheekbone throbbed from the hit. Blood dripped down his face from where the stranger’s knuckles had broken his skin.

Before Victor could react, Chris stepped forward, guarding his friend with his left arm and firing curses in French at the stranger, who didn’t step down from the confrontation, and instead, got up in Chris’ face, yelling over him in rapid Spanish. The man pushed Chris, and Chris pushed back. Phichit tried to get between them, but they dismissed him. The tension was palpable, and things began to escalate. As Phichit ran off to call security, the stranger threw a punch at Chris. Thankfully, it missed, but the screaming match had now turned into a brawl. Some people got dragged into the fight as they tried to separate the two. Some stayed, gathering around to watch and record the scuffle. Most scattered, stampeding off the dancefloor before things could get worse.

Yuri, who had been tending to Victor, weaved through the crowd, leading them both back to the bar and out of the madness. As they looked around for any sign of their friends, they noticed two women, onlookers who had seen the whole debacle, speaking to a burly security guard. When the women saw Yuri and Victor, they pointed in their direction, and the guard began walking toward them. Fearing the consequences of getting caught, Yuri grabbed Victor’s hand and made a run for it. The security guard gave chase, tailing the couple and ordering them to stop as they ran out of the club and onto the dimly-lit streets.

Yuri and Victor ran from the warehouse as fast as they could, turning into dark alleys until the yelling faded in the distance. A sense of relief and a rush of energy replaced their initial panic. They ran furiously and freely, laughing as they raced through the quiet streets hand in hand. They couldn’t remember how much time had passed, but by the time their legs finally gave out, they were back in the gothic quarter where the fair had been just a few hours ago. The vendors had packed up and left, but the festive lights that decorated the streets stayed lit. They held on to the wrought-iron gates of the Catedral as they caught their breath, lungs burning from the winter air and stomach cramping from laughter.

“You saved us!” Victor said.

“I don’t think I’ve ever run that fast!” Yuri said through labored breaths. “I better check if Phichit and Chris are alright.” He said as he typed out a message on his phone.

Once Yuri sent the text, they looked up and smiled at each other, puffs of condensation filling the space between them as they breathed. Victor stared at Yuri with delirious adoration. Even with his hair sticking to his damp forehead and his clothes disheveled from dancing and running, he looked immaculate.

“You know,” Victor said, “I could marry you right now.”

Yuri chuckled, interpreting the statement as a drunk man’s joke.

“I’m serious!” Victor insisted. “If I had a ring, I would ask you. Definitely.”

Yuri stared at him a for a moment, skeptical, but almost expectant. He looked around the area, which was lightly littered with leftover craft materials and plastic cups from the fair. He turned and spotted something that could work. He ran into the street and picked the object up from the cobblestone before making his way back to Victor. He hid the object behind him, biting his lip playfully.

“What is it?” Victor smiled despite the pain on his left cheek.

“Give me your hand,” Yuri said.

Victor played along and extended his right hand, and Yuri tied a piece of gold-painted twine around his ring finger.

“Victor Nikiforov,” Yuri said, trying to keep a straight face, “will you marry me?”

Victor pulled his hand over his mouth to cover an exaggerated gasp. “Yes, yes, a thousand times, yes!”

The two smiled and laughed, alcohol and adrenaline still buzzing in their heads. They kissed, playfully and passionately for a few minutes before the exhaustion in their bodies told them it was time to go.

As they walked back to their hotel, Yuri thought about how wonderful it would be to sink into the mattress and fall asleep. Victor, however, had a different proposition.

“So, miliy, how about that lap dance you promised?”

Yuri chuckled through a yawn and nodded. “Fine,” he agreed. “Only because it’s your birthday.”

 

________________________________

 

The next day, Phichit and Chris woke up in their hotel room, unscathed but hungover. After more people had gotten involved in the fight, Chris managed to crawl his way out unnoticed. By their booth, he found Phichit, who said he saw Victor and Yuri run out of the bar. Unfortunately, because both their phones were dead, they had no way of contacting them; they could only assume that they were safe with each other. When they finally got to their hotel room, they immediately jumped into bed and fell asleep. Apart from some bruises and soreness, Chris was fine. Phichit was mostly tired, and his smudged mascara and eyeliner certainly added to the look. The two of them sat up on their beds, performing the sacred millennial morning ritual of checking Instagram. They looked at each other as they stumbled upon a picture that Victor posted six hours ago at around 4:00 a.m.

[pictured]: Yuri with sweat gleaming on his forehead and upper lip. Victor with a swollen and bleeding cheek, holding up his hand with a string tied around his ring finger. Both flushed and beaming at the camera.

V-nikiforov: What sounds better: Nikiforov-Katsuki or Katsuki-Nikiforov?  

[comment] Phichit+chu: Katsuki-Nikiforov, but I’m biased. Congrats on your engagement!

[comment] Christophe-gc: @phichit+chu and I call best men.

Notes:

Ya girl has never been to Spain, so kindly ignore any egregious inaccuracies (ex. I know that the Christmas market ends on Dec. 23rd or something like that, but for the sake of Vitya's birthday, I took the artistic liberty of extending it to the 25th lol. Also, do Christmas-themed gay bars actually exist in Spain? Who knows).

Chapter 11: Revelation

Summary:

The one where secrets come to light.

UPDATING TWO DAYS EARLY! You've all waited a month. You deserve it.

These updates feel so far apart (lol says the girl who disappeared for a year). ANYWAY, I hope you all stay with me for this fic because I have so much planned, and I'm so excited to share~

As always, thank you for the kudos and (especially) comments <3

See you in August :)

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Spring semester arrived, and Victor and Yuri returned to their old routine of weekday lunches, with the addition of occasional mid-afternoon rendezvous in Victor’s office. On some days, Yuri would hop next door to share extended kisses and thoroughly violate multiple rules of professional conduct behind closed doors. Now that the whole department knew about their relationship (thanks to Victor’s drunken Instagram post, which he promptly deleted after Yuri sobered up enough to complain), the couple felt more at ease about their interactions at work. Of course, it took them a while to explain to everyone that no, they were not actually engaged, and no, Yuri did not sucker punch Victor despite the deep purple bruise that ran from his cheekbone to the corner of his eye. Once they addressed the confusion, however, things went on as usual. 

On that particular day, Yuri made his way to Victor’s office, not to fuel his professor role-play fantasies as he normally would, but to finally ask Victor’s opinion on his manuscript. It had been almost three weeks since they returned from Barcelona, ample time to read a few short chapters. As Yuri slowly pushed the door open, he noticed a hooded figure slumped down on one of the chairs in front of Victor’s desk. He couldn’t tell who it was, but his eyes immediately caught the bold cheetah-print sneakers he sported. 

“Ah, Professor Katsuki!” Victor said as he noticed him peeking in. “Come on in.” 

Yuri took a few steps inside. The hooded figure turned his head and glared. Yuri recognized that look. It was the same freshman that had asked him for directions at the beginning of the school year. He got a better look at him once he was inside. The boy was angst incarnate—hands in his jacket pockets, blonde hair covering one eye.

Victor introduced the boy, “This is one of my students, Yuri Plisetsky.” 

“Nice to meet you.” The Japanese professor extended a shaky hand. “My name’s Yuri too, funny enough.” 

The boy flatly ignored the gesture and comment. Instead, he looked at Yuri with an unnerving, searching expression that made him gulp. The boy stood up after a few seconds of uncomfortable staring. He looked at Victor and said something in Russian before giving Yuri one final look and leaving the office.

“Don’t mind him,” Victor said as he made his way to the couch. “He’s like that with everyone, as far as I can tell.”

Yuri let out a sigh of relief and closed the door behind him. He took a seat next to Victor and turned to him until their knees knocked together.

“Is this a bad time to talk?” Yuri asked. 

“No, what’s on your mind?” 

“Have you had a chance to read it?” 

It took Victor a moment to figure out what Yuri was talking about. “Oh, your manuscript!” 

Yuri nodded.

“I have,” Victor said. He stood up and walked to his desk. He opened the drawer and pulled out a printed copy of Yuri’s manuscript, red comments and edits scattered throughout. He flipped through the pages pensively for a few seconds.

Yuri held his breath, waiting for him to continue. 

“It was good.” 

Yuri beamed, “Really?”

“Really,” Victor couldn’t help but smile at his whole-hearted excitement. He almost didn’t want to say anything further, but he had to. “However,” he continued, and he could see Yuri’s expression change from excitement to concern, “you’ve always been good. Being good has never been your problem. Your problem is your sex scenes, and I noticed that you haven’t written any yet.” 

“I know. I hadn’t had a chance to finish it when I gave you the copy. I was hitting a wall, and I was hoping to work on it in Spain, but I also wasn’t expecting to run into you.” 

Victor, along with anybody who’s ever written anything, knew the frustrations of writer’s block. Sometimes writers could force themselves through that wall, but more often than not, conquering it required more creative approaches. He pondered for a moment about the best way to help Yuri through the writing process. “Tell me, miliy, when you write those scenes, what do you struggle with most?” 

“Hmm…” Yuri thought about all the criticism he’d received over the years about his writing (and there were plenty). “I think I struggle a lot with keeping the interactions organic. Sometimes, I can’t really imagine what my characters are feeling or what’s supposed to be going through their head in those situations. I know it’s fiction, so anything I say goes, but sometimes I feel disingenuous for writing something I don’t know anything about.”

“I see,” Victor said. “So, in this final scene, how are the characters supposed to feel?”

“Well, that’s the part where the woman realizes that she’s fallen for the playboy even though she adamantly refused him at first. She’s felt conflicted for some time, so, I don’t know, maybe she feels a sense of apprehension about making the wrong decision. Maybe some eagerness about finally being with him after all the uncertainty?”

“Okay, and why are those feelings so hard for you to imagine?” 

“Maybe…because I haven’t felt that way myself?”

Victor looked at Yuri, almost in disbelief, not about Yuri’s inability to imagine emotions he’s never felt, but his complete and utter lack of awareness when it came to his own feelings. Victor couldn’t read Yuri’s mind, but he must have felt those emotions before. Didn’t Yuri feel apprehensive when he chose to hear Victor out in Barcelona? Didn’t he feel eager when they finally made love in the hotel after those weeks of anxious waiting? Was Victor the only one who felt that nervousness and excitement? Surely, not. Perhaps Yuri just didn’t realize what he was feeling. Perhaps he was too caught up in the moment to think straight. Perhaps, Victor thought, he needed a reminder. 

As if he could read Victor’s mind, Yuri continued, “But even if I have felt that way before, I’m not sure I’d be able to put it on paper. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“Right.” Victor sat down at his desk and put on his reading glasses. He pensively tapped his lips with his index finger as he stared at the manuscript. He motioned for Yuri to come without tearing his eyes off the page. Yuri approached him, fiddling with the part of his button-down shirt that peaked out from underneath his sweater vest. He was nervous about what Victor would say. It was one thing for Victor to read his work on his own time, but to watch him scrutinize his writing in person triggered a different level of anxiety. 

After a few minutes of silence, Victor got up from his seat, unclipped the stack, and handed Yuri a page of the manuscript. “Read these last few sentences,” he said, pointing to the final paragraph. 

Yuri stopped his fidgeting that left creases on the hem of his shirt and took the piece of paper. He began reading in his head before Victor interrupted. 

“Out loud.”

“Huh?” 

“I want you to read it out loud.” 

Yuri wanted to object, but Victor looked dead serious. He couldn’t read his expression. Was he joking? Was he mad? Was his writing that offensive? Whatever it was, Yuri thought it best to follow his instructions. 

“O—Okay…” He hesitated and cleared his throat before beginning, “Her eyes follow his hands as he unbuttons his shirt. The coarse fabric rustles quietly underneath his fingers, whispering for her to move closer. Her ankles buck—umm, Victor, what are you—”

“Keep reading,” Victor said.

“Right, umm…her ankles buckle as…as she, uh…” Yuri tried his best, but the words on the pages lost their appeal as he watched Victor take off his collared shirt, revealing his perfectly sculpted body. The large expanse of skin made Yuri’s mouth water. He gulped audibly before continuing, his voice noticeably unsteady. “Her ankles buckle as she steps forward. They shake as she watches him bare himself in front of her, his nakedness reminding her of her own vulnerability. When he notices her hesitation, he meets her where she stands. He has pursued her this far, and he has no reason to stop now. He—"

Yuri paused as Victor walked slowly toward him, backing him into the bookcase on the wall. He leaned forward, bracketing Yuri in with both arms. Yuri looked up, and Victor smirked.

“Go on.”

Yuri nodded, anticipation and arousal growing as he started to realize what Victor was doing. He licked his lips subconsciously as he ran his eyes up and down his shirtless partner, every inch of muscle exposed and enticing. He was turned on, but he was also nervous. After all, he didn’t know how far Victor would take this game. Despite the temptation, they had always kept their office engagements short and relatively tame. Sex had always seemed too risky, like someone could bust in at any moment and catch them sprawled on top of each other’s naked bodies on the couch. Still, Yuri’s curiosity spurred him on. 

“He brings a hand to her cheek…”

Victor followed Yuri’s words like stage directions.

“…and runs the back of his fingers across her supple skin, easing her into his touch.” 

The heat returned to Yuri’s face as Victor’s fingers painted his cheeks pink with each gentle stroke.  

“As she relaxes into his caresses, he leans in…” 

Victor followed, closing in on Yuri until their lips were a hair’s width apart. 

“And—”

Victor finished the sentence without saying a word. He’d kissed Yuri countless times already, but he would never get used to how perfect, how right it always felt. He kept one hand leaning on the bookshelf and the other anchoring Yuri at the nape of his neck. Yuri felt Victor’s soft lips curve into a smile before he pulled away. His heart was beating faster. He could feel his cock fill as Victor stared through the dark frame of his glasses that gave his piercing blue eyes an intensity that made him feel wanted. He shifted under the Russian man, hoping to relieve the growing discomfort under his pants. 

“Th—that’s all I have…so far…” Yuri said, almost disappointed that he no longer had a script to use as an excuse to tell Victor what to do. After all, Yuri’s stories were born out of his fantasies, and what better way to live out those fantasies than to have his partner act them out.  

“I know,” Victor responded low into the inch of space between them, “but I want you to keep going.”

“What do you mean?”

“Tell me what you would write next.”

“I—I don’t know if I can.”

“Why not?”

“It’s, umm, just a little…embarrassing...with the subject matter and all.”

Victor swiped a thumb over Yuri’s wet lips, parting them slightly, amused by his shaky exhales and his determined effort to avoid eye contact. He guided his head back to face him, staring him down with relentless desire.

“You didn’t have trouble telling me what to do in the hotel,” Victor said with a smirk, remembering how Yuri took control, pinned him down, and rode him hard until they came. “Think of this as a creative writing exercise.” He winked. He took the piece of paper from Yuri’s hand and tossed it aside. “So, tell me, what does he do after he kisses her?” 

“After he kisses her…” Yuri hesitated, but he knew Victor wouldn’t take it easy on him, especially not when it came to writing. “Maybe he…runs his hands down her arms and holds her hands to calm her. He can tell she’s still slightly nervous…” 

Victor did as told, lacing their fingers together and squeezing Yuri’s hand gently to reassure and encourage him.

Yuri thanked the literary gods that he could pass this off as a “creative writing exercise” because he didn’t want Victor to know that he didn’t give a single fuck about what his characters thought. All he could think about were his own emotions and the electric sensation in his body. 

“Once she starts relaxing, maybe he kisses her again, deeper this time…” 

Victor smiled at the instruction, closing the gap between them and leaning their bodies against the shelves behind them. He pressed into him with feverish passion, breathing air straight from his lungs. Victor didn’t need to be told how to kiss Yuri. He knew exactly what to do. He knew how to move his tongue playfully against Yuri’s to elicit his sweet moans. He knew when to close in and ease off enough to let Yuri catch his breath without breaking their trance. He knew where to touch him as they kissed to keep him wanting more.

“Keep talking,” Victor said in the few milliseconds he managed to pull away before Yuri raked his fingers into his platinum strands and guided him back to his lips. 

Yuri indulged in the kiss a little while longer before he continued, “H—he moves down her neck.” 

Victor kissed the corner of Yuri’s mouth before grazing his lips against his jaw and trailing open-mouth kisses along the expense of his neck. He moved closer to his collarbone, biting down gently, leaving pink marks where no one would see. 

Yuri stifled a moan with his hand as Victor pressed his thigh against his cock. But he wasn’t the only one. He could feel Victor growing hard under his slacks as they ground their hips against each other, growing more desperate with each passing minute. 

“Mmm…he reaches under her dress…” 

Victor returned to the kiss, raring and relentless, uncaring that their glasses and noses knocked together. As he continued to bruise and nip at Yuri’s lips, he moved his hand down Yuri’s chest and abdomen to unbuckle his belt. He wasted no time, pulling down Yuri’s pants and underwear low enough to wrap his fingers around his erection. His thumb played with the tip, wetting it with the pre-cum slowly leaking from the slit. He bent down to grip at Yuri’s thighs and lifted him until he could rest the seat of his ass on the edge of the shelf. 

Yuri kicked off his shoes and tossed the rest of his bottoms aside, wrapping his legs around Victor’s waist to pull him in. He pushed himself deeper into the kiss to quiet himself as the heat began to build inside him, wary of the fact that they were still at work and careful not to make too much noise. He pulled away only to continue narrating, and even then, he struggled to string words together, too distracted by the easy pace of Victor’s hand around his dick. 

“H—he…takes off her clothes…” 

Yuri whined as Victor let go of his cock to help him out of his vest and shirt. Victor slid Yuri’s clothes off slowly, treating himself to the velvet soft skin underneath. Once they were off, he tossed the clothes to the corner. He took a moment to pull away and admire the fully exposed figure in front of him. After etching the image in his mind, he continued his work on Yuri’s erection, feeling it respond to his playful touch. He used his free hand to undo his own belt and zipper. He pressed their cocks together, jerking them faster to match the hunger they made apparent on each other’s lips.

Yuri writhed under him, giving himself over to the pleasure of messy kisses and impatient touches that begged the other for more. “He goes down on her,” Yuri whispered into Victor’s ear.

Victor lifted Yuri, keeping their lips locked as he carried him over to the couch. He set him down gently, guided his knees open, and knelt between them. Yuri melted into the plush material and tossed his head back as Victor licked the length of his erection. Yuri’s face burned with lust as he watched Victor swallow him entirely without tearing his piercing blue eyes away. 

“You’re so good, Vitya.” 

Hearing Yuri moaning the sweet nickname drove Victor crazy. He reached down, playing with his own cock as he sucked Yuri’s. He wished that he could be inside him now. He imagined it, remembering how tight and delicious it felt, sliding in like it was the most natural thing in the world. Perfect. 

As they got closer, chasing after that sweet release, they heard a knock. 

They stopped instantly and simultaneously. They looked at each other, eyes wide with concern. They waited a few moments. Perhaps it was just their imagination. They had no way of telling, so they stayed frozen. Yuri’s dick was still in Victor’s mouth, but he didn’t even have time to laugh at the ridiculous image before another knock sounded. 

The couple got up as fast as they could and shared a panicked look. Yuri was butt-naked, and Victor was shirtless with pants and boxers hanging around his thighs. No matter how they spun it, it looked bad. 

Yuri rushed to his khakis that he had discarded earlier, and Victor pulled his pants halfway up his ass and grabbed his shirt. 

“Victor?” a voice called. “Can I come in?”

“Get under the desk!” Victor said as he pulled his chair out. 

Yuri lurched forward and stumbled over the pant legs still looped around his ankles. Perfect time to eat shit, he thought. He crawled the rest of the way under the desk and hugged his knees to his chest as tight as he could to leave space for Victor’s legs. Victor sat down and frantically buttoned his shirt, missing a few buttonholes in the process. 

Bonjour! ” Chris popped his head in before entering. “I wasn’t sure if you were here, but the lights were on, and I heard noises.”

“Do you need something?” Victor asked curtly as he busied himself with paperwork to give the illusion of being too occupied to talk. It also helped him keep his mind off his dick that was still hard and uncomfortably jammed into his waistband.  

“I wanted your opinion on this play I’m writing.” Chris sat down on the chair in front of his desk and crossed his legs. He launched into the conversation, leaving Victor practically no time to object. 

Meanwhile, Yuri sat still, waiting for their unexpected guest to leave. He had two options: stare at his knees, or stare at Victor’s crotch that was perfectly eye-level. To no one’s surprise, he chose the latter. Victor had only managed to pull his pants halfway up, leaving half his ass and the tip of his dick peeking out. He was still hard, and Yuri could hardly resist the temptation. After all, Victor deserved a little punishment for making him say such embarrassing things (although he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it), and it was just Chris. If he caught them, the worst that could happen was getting teased about it for eternity.

Yuri shifted underneath the desk as quietly as he could until he was sitting back on his ankles. He started massaging his hands along Victor’s inner thigh. He moved his way up until he could palm at Victor’s cock over his boxers.

Victor moved back in his seat and cleared his throat to hide the soft moan that Yuri’s hands elicited. Victor should have swatted him away, but he didn’t want to. He had gotten so close to finishing until Chris interrupted, and the mere pressure from Yuri’s hands threatened to push him over the edge. At this point, all he wanted to do was get Chris the fuck out of there so he could slide into Yuri’s warm, wet mouth until he came. 

Yuri had a knack for giving Victor exactly what he wanted even without being asked. When he noticed Victor rolling his hips with every ounce of subtlety in his body, Yuri’s lips curled up into a mischievous smirk. He leaned forward, nestling his head between Victor’s legs, and pulled his boxers lower to fully expose his cock.

“Chris, this—ah…this really…isn’t a good time to talk…” Victor bit his lip, careful not to let any more sounds slip as Yuri’s tongue glided over the throbbing erection.

“You okay, chéri? You look like you’re burning up.” 

“I—I’m good, just a little…under the weather,” Victor responded, desperately holding on to his last thread of composure.

“Are you sure, you—” Before Chris could continue, he noticed a black sweater vest and collared shirt carelessly tossed to the corner. He raised an eyebrow and looked back at Victor—face flushed, glasses askew, and shirt haphazardly buttoned. The situation suddenly became abundantly clear. “Well,” he said with a smirk, “I see you’re occupied. I’ll see myself out.” He got up, flashing Victor a wink and knocking twice on the desk to signal that he knew.

Once Chris shut the door behind him, Victor pushed his chair back, giving Yuri’s head room to bob around his cock that was just about ready to burst. He gripped hard at the arms of his chair, spreading his legs wider, thrusting into his mouth to get even just a millimeter deeper. When he came, his body trembled as the pleasure washed over him. He took a few moments to breathe and return to his senses.

“You know you could get me fired for that,” Victor cautioned as Yuri resurfaced from under the desk, wiping the cum and spit from his chin. 

To that, Yuri raked his lashes up and gave Victor the sweetest puppy-eyes he could conjure. “But it would be worth it, wouldn’t it?” He said, more as a statement than a question. He winked and flashed him a self-satisfied smile. 

Victor couldn’t even be upset. Yuri was right. It would be worth it. Because for Yuri, Victor would give up anything. He bent over and lifted Yuri’s head to kiss him. “What am I going to do with you?” 

“I don’t know, but maybe you’ll have it figured out by tonight, once we’re off work?” Yuri said, his words dripping with insinuation. 

Victor chuckled and smiled. “My place then?” 

 

______________________________

 

As love blossomed in University Hall, a new budding obstacle began to emerge on the other side of campus.

Wheels came to an abrupt halt as a boy with black hair and stoic features hopped off his skateboard and entered the GPU freshman dormitories. The GPU dorms were a cluster of buildings surrounding a small plaza at the edge of campus. The boy walked past the humming vending machines inside and turned the corner to the freshman lounge. It was a co-ed space decorated with colorful posters and a large bulletin board with ads for club recruitment and miscellaneous activities. The lounge was where most of the students in the freshman dorm congregated. It was where people eagerly gathered before going to parties and drunkenly stumbled back from them in the wee hours of the night. It was also where people studied if they couldn’t stand the deafening silence of the library.  

“Beka!” Yuri Plisetsky, called out from one of the couches. 

The boy, Otabek Altin, or “Beka,” as his close friends called him, nodded and walked in his direction. 

The two first-years lived in the dormitory together after GPU’s housing system matched them as roommates. They figured it was because they were both double-majors with one in common: Otabek majored in dance and engineering, and Yuri majored in dance and Russian. 

“What’s up, Yura?” Otabek asked before plopping down next to him. 

“Just doing some research.”

Otakbek glanced at the screen of the laptop perched precariously on Yuri’s knees. “On Reddit?”

“Well, this isn’t exactly school-related,” Yuri responded. He scrolled through the page until he found what he was looking for. “Found it!” 

“What?”

“You remember the other day when I told you about that professor I asked for directions?”

“Right, because you got lost on your way to Professor Baranovskaya’s office.” 

“Shut up, that building is a fucking maze,” Yuri retorted. “Anyway, that professor, I thought he looked familiar, but I couldn’t remember where I’d seen him before.”

He turned his laptop toward Otabek. It was Yuri Katsuki’s Facebook page. Even though it was private, they could still see his profile picture on the left-hand side of the screen. 

“Was this the guy?” Otabek asked.

“Yeah. But here’s the crazy part.” 

Yuri clicked back to the previous page to reveal how he had come across the account in the first place. 

“You found him on Reddit, so what?” 

“Read the thread.” 

Otabek took the laptop and read the comments on the page. “Oh, so he’s…an erotica author?”

“Seems like it. He looked different from when I saw him in person a couple years ago. He didn’t have glasses, and his hair was slicked back.” 

“Wait…” Otabek read the page again. “Are you…Eroticalover69?” 

Yuri snatched his laptop and turned away from his friend to hide his tomato-red face. “Shut up, Beka!” 

Otabek broke his usual stoicism and started rolling on the couch laughing. Yes, Yuri Plisetsky was, in fact, Eroticalover69: avid reader of smutty fiction and secret Eros fan boy. 

Yuri curled into himself, clutching the half-open laptop to his chest and kicking Otabek as he continued to laugh in his face. He couldn’t believe it. Was Professor Katsuki really the author he had idolized from the minute he finished reading his first novel? He clicked the Facebook link again and stared at his picture. Eros seemed so cool when he met him at the book signing, but seeing him now, he just looked so pathetic. He didn’t know why, but it irritated him. He wanted to slap some sense into him, tell him to quit playing professor and get back to writing erotica, which was way more badass in his opinion. 

As Otabek continued to tease Yuri, a blonde girl came up from behind and wrapped her arms around the two boys. 

“What’s so funny?” she asked. 

“Oh,” Yuri said in an openly annoyed tone. “The fuck do you want, Olivia?”

Olivia Clancy (aka “OC”), was a freshman who lived in Yuri and Otabek’s wing. She waltzed in on moving day, yelling at her parents as they hauled cases of designer clothes into her dorm like pack mules. She didn’t have a roommate because she swayed her psychiatrist uncle to write a doctor’s note demanding a private suite. Since starting college, she had convinced herself that every sorority on campus would certainly pick her because, “who wouldn’t?” Every opportunity had been fed to her with a silver spoon. She was, in other words, a spoiled brat. And needless to say, nobody, especially not Yuri, could stand her. 

“Are you watching a funny video or something?” she asked, swiping the laptop from Yuri without permission. 

“None of your fucking business!” Yuri said through gritted teeth. “Why don’t you go back to your juice cleanse and leave us alone.” 

He didn’t faze her, and she stuck her tongue out with a sense of superiority that only privilege could teach. She looked at the screen, and her face immediately turned sour. “Why the fuck are you looking up that asshole?” She closed the laptop and chucked it back at Yuri, who caught it and muttered a curse in Russian. 

“Why? You got a problem with him or something?” 

“That fucker gave me a ‘C’ and ruined my GPA! Can you believe it?” she complained. “I had to pick a stupid foreign language class for my major, and his class was the only one available. Why can’t Japan use a normal alphabet like everybody else?” 

Her unapologetic ignorance pissed Yuri off even more, but before he could blow up on her, Otabek tapped his shoulder, cueing him to calm down.

“Sorry, Liv, but we really should study,” Otabek interjected. “Come on, let’s get our books.” 

“Fine.” Yuri scoffed and shot Olivia a look. “Don’t touch my shit.” Refusing to waste any more time on her, he got up and walked away without a goodbye, leaving the laptop and backpack in the lounge until they returned with their study materials. 

When the roommates left, Olivia gazed down at the device. Whatever they were up to, it had piqued her interest. Ignoring Yuri’s explicit order, she opened the screen and started digging. 

“Interesting,” she said with a sinister smile. “Eros, huh?”

Notes:

If you don't remember the Reddit thread with Eroticalover69, it's in Chapter 2! In case you didn't catch it, our precious ice tiger made his first appearance in Chapter 5, but I didn't officially introduce him then.

Yuri's new story is a play on the woman and the playboy from the Eros program :)

Also, I just couldn't stand to make any of the YOI characters a villain figure, so I made an OC. I know a lot of people use JJ, but I already made him a dean, so there's that lol.

Chapter 12: Time to Let Go

Summary:

The one where Yuri closes the chapter.

Surprise Monday update! Mondays are rough, and everyone needs a little Victuuri to help them through the day (at least I know I do).

Thank you all for being so patient and wonderful! Feedback keeps me going, so feel free to comment~

Also, the bar exam has once again been postponed, so here's my updated schedule:

September 4 - Chapter 13
October 9 - Chapter 14
November 6 - Chapter 15

See you in September :)

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

After he finished his night class at 8:00 p.m., Yuri bolted out of the lecture hall, instructing his students to email him any questions instead of allowing them to bombard him after class like usual. He rushed to the bathroom, patting the sheen off his face with a paper towel and using water to slick his hair back as best as he could. After he left Victor’s office that afternoon, it suddenly dawned on him that he looked a mess. Even his clothes looked extra shabby and wrinkled from being carelessly tossed aside for the sake of feeling Victor’s skin on his (and he didn’t regret it one damn bit). 

Once he made it to Victor’s place, however, he quickly realized that what he wore didn’t matter because the minute he stepped into the condo, his clothes were almost immediately back on the floor. They kissed greedily, as if they hadn’t just tasted each other a few hours ago, but this time, they took their time. In the privacy of Victor’s home, they didn’t have to worry about breaking any rules. They could savor each other, take in each other. And they did just that. 

“I’ve been waiting all day for this,” Yuri said. His tongue traced Victor’s lips until he parted them to let him in. Their tongues tangled, and their bodies crashed, yearning to get closer and discarding every barrier that separated them. Even air couldn’t come between them. 

Victor’s muscles tightened each time Yuri clumsily ran his fingers over his body. He pulled away and scattered small, light kisses like delicate petals along Yuri’s cheeks and neck. He bit that sensitive spot just below his ear, eliciting a delicious moan from his partner and leaving a mark on his soft skin. He licked the area where a bruise would eventually form and moved his way up to nibble at Yuri’s earlobe. He palmed at Yuri’s cock while he unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. Yuri writhed beneath him, giving himself over completely to the pleasure that coursed through his body, making him desperate for more. Seeing Yuri melt with every touch fueled Victor. He wanted to experience all of him. He wanted to breathe in his sweet lavender scent, taste the saltiness of his skin, feel goosebumps form as he caressed him, hear him scream his name in ecstasy.

With their bodies glued together, Victor pulled away from the wall, leading the both of them from the living room to the dark bedroom with a growing sense of urgency. He locked the dog gate behind him to make sure they wouldn’t be interrupted by the poodle sleeping in the living room. He pushed forward until the back of Yuri’s knees hit the edge of the mattress, and they fell onto the bed. They helped each other out of their pants and underwear, relishing the feeling of skin on skin. 

Yuri’s cock filled as Victor continued to work it with his hand. It didn’t take long before he was at his full length as he allowed the vivid sensations from that afternoon return to him. Victor’s cock ached, ready to be pleasured despite the fact that he had already gotten off earlier that day. It didn’t matter. He wanted more. 

Victor reached over to the nightstand drawer and grabbed a vial of lubricant. He poured the viscous substance onto his hand, letting it drip off his fingers and onto Yuri’s cock like honey. He warmed the remaining liquid in his hands and positioned himself between Yuri’s legs. 

“I want you to touch yourself,” Victor said. 

Yuri’s cheeks flushed at the request, and he obliged, taking his throbbing dick in his hand and spreading the lubricant over its entirety. He pushed his knees out, giving Victor an incredible view, allowing him as much access to his body as he desired. To Victor, he looked divine. The warm glow of the hallway light filtered through the door of the dark room and illuminated him. The ridges of his muscles cast shadows that defined the soft lines of his body, and Victor traced them with his tongue as Yuri worked his hand up and down. Victor reached down and began playing with Yuri’s entrance. He circled it with his finger, letting the slick lubricant coat the outer rim and teasing him with the slightest bit of pressure. Yuri moved his hips closer, but Victor refused to spoil him, instead, indulging himself in Yuri’s desperate movements. 

“I love you like this,” Victor said with a pleased smirk.

Yuri didn’t respond. Victor’s sultry voice, his playful touch, his smoldering gaze—they made his body burn and set his heart on fire. He quickened his pace, letting his cock glide easily through his fingers.

Victor’s cock twitched and dripped pre-cum at the sight of Yuri pleasuring himself. He felt an intense urge to be inside him, and he knew he would give over to that desire soon. He inserted one finger, delighting at how easily Yuri sucked it in. He moved it inside him, massaging him open and loosening him up for more. 

Yuri gasped for air and closed his eyes as he felt Victor add another finger and glide his thumb over his perineum. His cock ached with pleasure, longing for something, anything to get him off.

“Are you feeling okay?” Victor asked, pushing aside the strands of hair on Yuri’s forehead. 

Yuri nodded. The first time he had sex with Victor was incredible, but this felt different. This time, his emotions weren’t muddled with heavy feelings of uncertainty like they were in Barcelona. This time, he felt a profound affection and raw desire. The way Victor treated him with care turned him on more than anything. He felt safe to explore and feel the incredible sensations in his body. Victor knew how to be considerate and take control at the same time, and Yuri had never experienced that level of gentleness with sex even thought he had wished for and written about it all his life. 

When Victor added the third finger, fucking them in and out of his tight hole, Yuri couldn’t take it anymore. “Stop teasing,” he said through labored breaths. He gazed at Victor through lidded and lustful eyes. As if that alone wasn’t enough to let Victor know that he was ready, Yuri pulled Victor in with his free hand and whispered in his ear, “I want you inside me.” 

Victor couldn’t refuse, nor did he want to. He pulled his fingers out and grabbed Yuri’s hips, positioning them at just the right angle. He applied more lubricant and teased him with the tip of his cock. Yuri whimpered, anticipating the sweet sensation of being spread open and filled. He thrust his hips forward, urging Victor to go deeper, but instead, he moved torturously slow, easing himself only halfway in.

“I want all of you,” Yuri panted. “Please, Vitya.”

Yuri could have finished Victor right then and there with those words, but Victor summoned every ounce of restraint in his body not to cum so soon. After regaining some semblance of control, Victor slowly pushed his cock all the way in, throwing his head back in pleasure. 

“You feel so good, miliy,” he praised. 

Yuri tightened around Victor’s cock, and Victor could feel every contraction as he grew bigger inside him. Victor moved his hips to a steady rhythm, thrusting into him with controlled movements. He was careful. He reigned in his lust and told himself to go slow, which was easier said than done given the beautiful man lightly glistening with sweat and moaning in pleasure beneath him.  

His restraint was palpable. His fingers gripped and bruised Yuri’s hips hard as he did his best to hold himself back. But as much as Yuri loved Victor for it, he needed more. “Harder, Vitya. You don’t have to go easy on me.” 

It was the permission he needed. “Fuck” was all he could say before he pulled Yuri into him, closing the gap between them with a roughness that made both of them whimper. With Yuri’s reassurance, Victor let himself go. He fucked him harder, and each time their hips snapped together, they could feel themselves come apart. They melted into each other, feeling the heat on each other’s skin, tasting the sweetness on each other’s tongues. 

Victor adjusted himself and flung Yuri’s legs over his shoulders to give him room to fuck deeper into his deliciously tight hole. As he thrust into him, Yuri felt a wave of pressure swell inside him. He stroked himself faster and dug his nails into Victor’s shoulders as his cock rubbed against that sweet spot inside him. “Oh yes, keep fucking me right there.” 

Feeling Yuri’s body shudder against him drove Victor crazy. 

“Ah—oh my god. Keep going,” Yuri moaned, pushing his hips closer to Victor, taking in as much of his cock as he could, “Vitya, I’m so close. Don’t stop.”

As if Victor would even dare. 

He fucked into him with a growing desperation. Whatever concern he had for Yuri in the beginning was replaced by an insatiable want, and he gave himself over to it, savoring the intense pleasure that made his whole body tingle. 

They were both close. They couldn’t think anymore; they could only rely on their bodies to chase after that carnal need for closeness and connection, that carnal need for each other. 

When they finally reached their climax, their hips stuttered, locking into each other as their cocks spilled hot cum. Yuri arched his back and tightened around Victor as he came in his own hand. Victor groaned, loving the feel of Yuri pulsing around his throbbing cock. “Fuck, Yuri.” His arms went weak as he came, and he collapsed onto Yuri, panting into the crook of his neck and letting himself melt into his arms. They relaxed into each other and felt the tension escape from their bodies. Their limbs tingled with residual adrenaline, and their hearts beat almost in unison against each other’s chests. 

Yuri wrapped his arms around Victor and caressed the back of his head. He kept him close for a few more moments before letting him go. Victor pulled out of him and rolled to his side of the bed. They lay on their sides, staring into each other's eyes in comfortable silence. 

Victor reached over and ran his thumb over Yuri’s cheek. After he kissed him one last time, he said, “When you write, think of me.” 

____________________________

 

When morning came, Yuri strained to open his eyes under the morning sun shining through the voile curtains. He stirred under the sheets, and his muscles ached from the night before. A pleasant breeze drifted into the room from the open windows, and Yuri heard the familiar, rustling sound of a turning page. 

Victor was seated at his desk, reading. Yuri could tell Victor was in his own world even through the dark frame of his reading glasses. The first time he saw Victor engrossed in a book was also the first time he realized just how deeply fucked he was because he was falling fast and hard. He passed by his office on his way to get coffee from the break room, and he saw him, leaning back against his chair with his reading glasses and a book. He loved how Victor lost himself in it, staring at the pages like scripture. And Yuri watched. He had observed Victor reading multiple times since then—in his office, in the garden, in the university café—and every time, Yuri just watched, unable to bring himself to pull Victor out of his literary dreamscape. 

He almost didn’t want to disturb him now, but he had to get up sooner or later. “You know,” he said softly as he shifted in bed. “I was wondering about something,” 

Victor looked up, expression melting into adoration as he saw Yuri staring at him, warm under the sheets and cozied up against his pillow. He set his book down, took off his glasses, and turned his chair. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?” 

“How come you don’t write?” 

Victor gave him a confused look. “Of course, I write. I wouldn’t have this job if I didn’t.” 

“No, no, I’m not talking about your articles. I’m talking about novels, or short stories, maybe poetry.” Yuri sat up with his knees to his chest. “You write about those things, but you don’t actually write them, you know?” 

Victor chuckled. He’d never been asked that question before. He’d never been questioned about writing outside his career. He’d only ever received approval about the path he’d chosen for himself. “Why do you ask? Do my articles bore you too much?” he said jokingly. 

“Of course not. They’re great, they’re insightful, but they’re also, you know…scholarly.” 

“And what’s wrong with being scholarly?” 

“Well, nothing, but I get this feeling that you’d enjoy being a novelist. I can tell literature means the world to you. I think it’s incredible the way you find meaning and purpose in a string of words. So, I thought it was odd that you’ve chosen to analyze literature instead of create it. It’s almost like you’re a bystander, like you’re watching from the sidelines instead of playing the game.” When Victor responded to the comment with a brooding look, Yuri panicked. “N—not that there’s anything wrong with being a bystander! I—I—I mean, you’re not really a bystander since you’re contributing, and your articles are amazing, so I guess that analogy doesn’t make sens—” 

Miliy, it’s okay,” Victor reassured. “I’m not upset. I appreciate hearing your thoughts.”

Yuri pulled the blanket over his head and hid himself away. He, a second-tier writer, had just called a world-renowned literary scholar a bystander. Who was he to criticize Victor’s work? If Victor was a bystander, then he was an absolute nobody.

“I didn’t mean to sound presumptuous.” Yuri peaked out from covers. “I just think you’d be a great author, that’s all. You helped me with my manuscript, and even with just those edits, you’ve already made it a million times better.” 

Victor had considered the novelist route back in grad school, but he had gotten too busy with the rapid trajectory of his career to give it any serious thought. His research had always been the center of his work, and he had been so successful that he saw no reason to try anything different. Research was his way of connecting and engaging with literature. It was his way of introducing his students to its beauty. It was his way of keeping it a predominant force in his life. And for years, Victor was certain that he had it figured out. 

That is, until now. Yuri’s question planted a seed of doubt in his head. Why hadn’t he written? He had no real excuse. Financial resources, connections, skill—Victor had it all. The only thing stopping him was a lack of need and the uncertainty that comes with pursuing a competitive field like writing. Even with his reputation, success as a writer was never a guarantee. Victor was comfortable (but arguably complacent) with his life. Even with this recent “work funk,” doing something other than teaching and research seemed imprudent. His career was the bridge between literature and his life. Leaving this career for something as precarious as being a novelist could mean leaving literature entirely. And that, well, that was unthinkable. 

Instead of explaining his conflicted thoughts, Victor brushed them off. “I think you underestimate yourself,” he said plainly, “and I think you overestimate me.” Victor got up and walked over to Yuri. He bent down and planted a kiss on the top of his head. “Come on, I’ll make you breakfast.”   

The couple made their way to the kitchen. Yuri volunteered to help, but Victor insisted on cooking for him, so instead, he sat himself up on the marble counter and watched chef Victor chop vegetables and whisk eggs. He could get used to this, he thought, but he would have preferred to make breakfast together like a team, like partners.

“So,” Victor said, “have you been working on that novel?” 

Yuri swung his legs back and forth. “I have.” 

“Any progress?” 

“Yeah, it’s coming together better than I expected honestly.” 

“That’s great!” Victor turned to rinse his hands on the island sink. “I’m happy to hear that.”

“Thanks,” Yuri smiled. “Your feedback helped a lot.”

“You can’t give me too much credit. I just gave you suggestions. You actually wrote it.” Victor turned his attention back to the eggs sizzling in the pan. He sprinkled the chopped vegetables over the gooey center and folded it in half before flipping it onto a plate and topping it with hot sauce. He handed the dish to Yuri, who nodded and thanked him. He went back to the stovetop to make his serving. “So, do you plan sending it to your editor when you’re done?” 

“You know I don’t actually plan on publishing it.”

Victor did know. Yet, part of him still hoped Yuri would change his mind.

“That’s all behind me now.” 

Victor turned to look at Yuri. His expression betrayed him. Even though he said he had no interest in being a novelist, his face read otherwise. He looked conflicted, sad even. Victor still didn’t understand how someone as talented as Yuri could give up on such an attainable dream. Yuri didn’t want to be a movie star, rocket scientist, or something completely out of reach. He wanted to be a writer, and he already was. If it had been up to Victor, he would have convinced Yuri to quit teaching and pursue his writing career instead. Unfortunately, that wasn’t his decision to make.

“Well,” Victor said as he finished plating his meal, “if you ever change your mind, you know I’ll always support you.”

“Thank you.” Yuri gave him a weak smile. “But my decision is final,” he said firmly. “I know I’ve been wavering, but I’ve given it a lot of thought, and I think it’s time to move on. I’ve been overdue for a fresh start, and this position at GPU is my big chance to build a respectable, sustainable career. I can be a good professor, maybe even make a lasting impact on some of my students. What more could I ask for?” 

“I know being a professor is meaningful and fulfilling work, but none of that matters if your heart isn’t in it,” Victor said. “Miliy, I have no right to make decisions for you. All I want is to see you happy, and if this decision makes you happy, I won’t fight it.” 

“I am happy,” Yuri said flatly. 

“Okay.” Victor nodded. “Then that’s that.”

Of course, the conversation wasn’t over, at least not for Victor. Whether he realized it or not, his words would soon ring true in his own life, and he himself would have to make a decision that would change the course of his career forever. 

_______________________________

 

As the months went on, Victor and Yuri’s relationship found its rhythm. They wove their lives together as couples do when they reach a point of comfort and security. They divided their time between each other’s homes and commuted to work together. They made breakfast every morning and cuddled on the couch every night, discovering domestic bliss for the very first time. They explored their fantasies, learning new ways of physical and emotional intimacy. 

Every day, after work, Yuri spent as much time as he could on his novel, not because of any deadline, but because writing had never come so easy. All he had to do was follow Victor’s advice and think about him—about them—when he wrote. The words poured out from his heart to the paper, filling page after page with inspired work. For the first time in a long time, there was no anxiety attached to the task. It felt like he was writing stories as a teenager again, saying whatever the hell he wanted without any concern for the expectations of publishing companies or readers. Good or bad, it didn’t matter. He wrote for himself. 

Once he finished, he tucked the manuscript away into a drawer and felt a great weight lift off his shoulders. It was his final goodbye. He had dedicated over a decade of his life to erotic fiction, but that was all in the past now. He was a professor, and he wanted to do his best with this opportunity that life had afforded him. The novel was never meant to launch him back into his old career. He finished it to prove to himself that letting go of his dream didn’t mean giving up on his passion. He could still work on his writing on his own time. He could share his stories with his friends and with Victor, who had helped him discover the joy of writing again. Even if he couldn’t be a novelist, there were other things that made his life worth living. Victor was proof of that. So, even if he couldn’t live out his dreams, Yuri thought that being with Victor and continuing his academic career would be enough. This decision made Yuri feel lighter, but somehow, it also made him feel hollow. 

As he closed the drawer, he took a deep breath and fought back tears. It was time to let go.

Notes:

More smut to come next chapter ;)

Chapter 13: Calm Before the Storm

Summary:

The one where Victor and Yuri switch things up.

Wooooooow hi, posting a few hours early! September is going to be long month (at least for me), so here's some victuuri to hold everyone over until spooky season. Spoiling you with a little bit of everything this chapter: BFF banter, heart-warming fluff, steamy smut. Again, I love and appreciate you all. Thank you for sticking with me so far, and thank you for making my day with comments and kudos.

Enjoy the bliss while it lasts :O See you in October (when I’ll HOPEFULLY be done with the bar).

Chapter Text

“To the end of an era.” Phichit raised his bottle of green juice in the air. He waited a moment, but Yuri didn’t reciprocate the gesture. “Oh, come on! If you’re going to officially quit, you have to give Eros a proper send off.” He grabbed Yuri’s hand and lifted it to meet him in a toast. “There.”

Yuri sighed and took a swig of the earthy and bitter substance. He made a face and coughed. “Bleh, how could you like this stuff? It tastes like dirt.” 

“Pain is temporary, glowing skin and a strong immune system are…well, also temporary, but you get the point.”

“I guess,” Yuri chuckled. 

The two best friends sat on a large picnic blanket spread over a grassy hill in their local park. They sat with their juices and containers of food, enjoying the pleasant spring breeze and the wildflowers that bloomed a sea of yellow in the field just beyond the manicured grass. 

“By the way, I don’t think I ever thanked you,” Yuri said.

“For what?”

“For what you and Chris did for me and Victor. Getting us to talk in Barcelona. I know I was being difficult about it. I appreciate you looking out for me.” 

“Hey, you’re my best friend. I want you to be happy, and it’s been clear to me from the beginning that Victor makes you happy.” 

Yuri smiled, his cheeks turning pink. “I know I’m not the best at hiding my feelings, but was it really that obvious?” 

“Totally.”

Yuri stomached more of his juice and chased it with cheese and crackers.

“It’s not a bad thing, you know,” Phichit continued. “I know you’ve been hurt putting yourself out there before, and it takes a lot of courage to be vulnerable. I admire you for it.” 

“Thanks,” Yuri said through a soft smile. “Things are going really well for us right now.” 

Phichit smirked. “Seems like it. You did fuck in his office in the middle of a workday.”

Yuri choked on his juice and swallowed it hard before he could spray it all over their food. “W—we did not! We just—we didn’t really…get that far.” He wiped the corners of his mouth. “And you and Chris need to stop gossiping! You guys are like a two-man rumor mill.”

“Hey, nothing to be ashamed of. I aspire to be that level of thirsty. Besides, if Chris and I don’t talk about ways to torment you and Victor, how would we fill our time?”

“I don’t know, do a puzzle, take up knitting?”

“I’ll pass,” Phichit chuckled. “Anyway, you’re seeing him tonight, right?” 

“Yeah, we’re just hanging out at his place. It’s our last chance to properly  relax together. After that, we’ll be swamped for three weeks until the semester ends.” 

“Good call. You seem to be adjusting well. I can’t believe you’re about to finish your first year of teaching!” 

“The first year of many!” 

“Right,” Phichit said with a hint of incredulity. He could smell his contrived enthusiasm from a mile away. “Have you told Victor that you’re officially done with writing?”

“Yeah,” Yuri responded plainly.  

“What did he say about it?” 

“I think he was disappointed. He didn’t say it, but I could feel it. He said he’d support me if I ever changed my mind.” Yuri paused before he turned to Phichit. “What do you think about my decision?”

“Will my opinion change your mind?”

“No.”

“Then why does it matter what I think?” 

Yuri hesitated, and Phichit caught a glimpse of it—the same conflicted expression that Victor had seen when Yuri told him he was done for good. It was then that Phichit understood the toll of this decision. Yuri finally had closure, and he could finally move on, but at what cost? 

Knowing that Yuri wouldn’t respond, Phichit continued, “If you want my honest opinion, I’m surprised you’re really quitting, and I feel bad. Not in the sense that I pity you, but I feel like you’re giving up something you really loved. As someone who cares a lot about you, I want to make sure you’re not choosing convenience over happiness.”

“I love writing, I do, but doing it for a living was too much for me,” Yuri explained. “Besides, weren’t you the one who said I should apply for the adjunct position?”

“Yeah, but I always thought this would just be temporary, something to do until you were ready to start writing again. You said last year that you weren’t retiring. And what about ciao-ciao? Isn’t he still expecting you to make a comeback?”

“I already called him.” 

“Oh.” 

Yuri had done his best to avoid contacting Celestino for the past year. Every email, every voice message, every text left with no response. Celestino had been pestering him for an update about when he planned on returning, what he planned on writing next—every message was the same. The pressure of making the decision was too much for Yuri, so he decided to ignore them until he could make up his mind in his own time. He also needed that time to muster up the courage to break the bad news of his retirement. And when he finally did, Celestino surprised him. Instead of begging him to return, he told Yuri that he understood and wished him the best of luck with his new career. It was as if he had been expecting that call, as if he had given up all hope, as if he had given up on Yuri. After they hung up, he knew there was no going back. 

The two friends sat in silence for a few moments, listening to the chatter drifting in the breeze and watching children playing tag in the distance. 

“Well, hey,” Phichit said. “No matter what, I’m proud of you, and I’ll always support you.” He playfully punched Yuri’s arm, eliciting a chuckle from him and lightening the mood before either of them could dwell on the topic any longer.  

“Thanks, Phichit.” Yuri smiled warmly. 

“Come on, let’s pack up. Wouldn’t want you to be late!” 

__________________________________________

 

After Yuri left the park, he walked home to pack an overnight bag and made his way to Victor’s condo. When he texted Victor to let him know he was on his way, he responded that he would be a few minutes late. Apparently Makkachin had gotten into a public trash can on their walk and left Victor to clean up the mess, lest he receive a fine for littering.  

Yuri waited outside the building, busying himself with emails on his phone. Just then, he lurched forward as he felt something big and heavy crash into his back. Before he could register what it was, he lost his balance and fell to the concrete as a pair of strong paws pinned him down. He was held captive by a fluffy brown poodle who assaulted him with a flurry of slobbery licks.

“Makka, no!” 

Victor appeared a few seconds later, panting and slightly disheveled. He pried the zealous dog off Yuri, who was laughing and covered in dirt and drool. 

“I’m so sorry, Yuri,” Victor said as he kneeled down on the sidewalk and wiped Yuri’s face with his own shirt. “She got excited when she saw you and bolted. I didn’t have a good enough grip on the leash, so she got away from me.” 

Yuri smiled. “Well, at least I know she likes me."

“I don’t blame her.”

Victor leaned in, but Yuri backed away. “Hmm, are you sure? I got dog slobber all over my face.” 

“Worth it,” He said as he planted playful kisses all over his face. 

“What’s that smell?” Yuri scrunched his face as the unpleasant scent surrounded him. 

“That would be me and Makka,” Victor said, embarrassed. “Turns out, picking up garbage from the street doesn’t leave you smelling like roses. Let’s go upstairs. I think Makka and I need a nice long bath.” 

Victor turned to his sweet poodle, who whined after hearing the dreaded word. She was a smart pup, and she knew exactly what was coming. 

When they got to the apartment, Yuri set his bag down in the bedroom. The space had become so familiar and comfortable to him. Even if he didn’t know it, he had become an integral part of what made it feel like home. It was still Victor’s condo, but Yuri had left his mark in every room: a toothbrush in the bathroom, his favorite Japanese snacks in the kitchen pantry, a framed picture of the couple on the console table by the front door. Victor knew this, of course, and he let Yuri’s presence occupy as much of the space as possible.  

“I’ll wait in the living room while you two get cleaned up,” Yuri said.

“Unless you want to help me with Makka,” Victor suggested. “Then, maybe we can take a bath together?” 

“Sure,” Yuri smiled. “I happen to be an expert dog groomer. I got a lot of practice with Vicchan.”

“Who?"

“Oh, Vicchan’s the name of my family dog.”

“You never told me your family had a dog.”

“Well, not anymore. He died a few years ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, miliy…”

“It’s okay. It was hard at first, but he lived a happy life. He was a poodle too. Makka looks a lot like him, actually.” 

Makka perked up when she heard her name and bounced across the room to Yuri. She flopped onto the floor and rolled over to expose her pink belly. She was a sucker for belly rubs, and Yuri was a sucker for giving them. 

“Who’s a good girl? It’s you! You’re the good girl!” He scratched her until he found that sweet spot that made her leg shake. 

Victor’s heart melted each time he saw Yuri playing with Makka. He cooed at her and fluffed her floppy ears, and she responded with snuggles and kisses. She had never taken to any of Victor’s partners so easily, and Victor took that as a good sign. To him, Makka’s approval was paramount, and Yuri earned it with flying colors. 

“Looks like she’s starting to like you more than she likes me,” Victor joked. 

“I don’t blame her,” Yuri said with a cheeky smile. 

Victor’s jaw dropped. “Oh, I see how it is. In that case, you won’t need my help giving her a bath, Mr. Expert Dog Groomer.” 

Yuri stood up straight and accepted the challenge. “Fine, let’s go, Makka.” He led Makka to the bathroom by her collar, but to his chagrin, she stopped in her tracks as soon as they reached the tub. Yuri tugged on her collar and motioned for her to jump in, but instead, she dug her hind legs into the tile and lay on the floor completely. “Come on, girl,” he goaded, but she only whined.

Meanwhile, Victor chuckled by the dooray as he watched Yuri grow frustrated at the stubborn poodle. He was trying hard to be nice and gentle, but Victor could tell he wanted to prove a point, and Makka was making it difficult. 

“Looks like you’re having some trouble. Just say the word, and I can tell you how to get her in there,” Victor said.

“No, no, I got this,” Yuri insisted. He positioned himself above the poodle and dug his hands just under her forelegs until she was locked into his arms. He lifted her up, and carefully set her down in the tub, but as soon as he let go, she jumped out and sat by the doorway. Yuri sighed and looked at Victor, who by now was shamelessly laughing out loud. “Fine,” Yuri conceded. “You win. Now can you please help me out so we can get clean and make some dinner?”

“Well, if you insist.” Victor left the bathroom and returned with a spoon and jar of peanut butter. “Come here, girl,” he said as he opened the jar and scooped out a hefty dollop. He let Makka lick the spoon before smearing the rest of the peanut butter on the tile wall. Without any hesitation, the once immovable dog climbed into the tub. 

“Like magic,” Victor said with a triumphant smile. 

“Hmm, pretty sure that’s called cheating.”                                                                                   

“Hmm, pretty sure that’s called being resourceful.” 

Yuri rolled his eyes, but his smile gave him away. “Whatever, just give me the shampoo.”

Once Makka was in the tub with her peanut butter, bathing her was an easy process. Victor and Yuri rolled up their sleeves and sat on the edge of the tub. They used the detachable shower head to dampen her fur and lathered her whole body with fancy dog shampoo that Victor had purchased from a boutique online pet store. They scrubbed thoroughly until the pungent stench of street trash was replaced by the pleasing scent grapefruit and lemongrass. 

The two of them talked while Makka licked away at the peanut butter on the wall. Neither of them noticed that she had finished her treat, too busy chatting and rinsing away suds. Without any food to distract her, Makka was now fully aware of the terrible torture she was undergoing. She started whining and stomping her paws on the wet enamel. 

“It’s okay, girl, we’re almost done,” Victor said.

But Makka was getting restless and desperate to get away. When she turned her head, she noticed the open jar of peanut butter on the edge of the counter and saw it as an incentive to escape. Without any regard for her poor dads, she shook the soapy water off her fur and leapt out of the tub. The showerhead slipped out of Victor’s hand as he tried to cover himself, and the water sprayed the whole room, including the ceiling. Makka had already knocked the jar off the counter and started eating the gooey treat by the time they wiped the water from their eyes.  

“No, bad dog!” Victor hurried over to restrain her, but as he approached, she started running. “Hey, get back here!” Victor and Yuri gave chase, following her into the living room and kitchen. Makka clumsily weaved through table legs and crashed into various shelves and counters. When they finally wrangled her into her collar and guided her back to the bathroom with more treats, they looked back at the trail of chaos she left behind. There was water everywhere and a number of items knocked over and strewn on the floor. When they looked at the little troublemaker, she innocently tilted her head, tongue lolling out, as if she had nothing to do with it.

Once they finally finished bathing her and cleaning up the mess, they guided her out of the bathroom so they could finally breathe. Neither of them felt clean after wrestling a 50-pound poodle, and nothing sounded better than a relaxing bath. After they cleaned the tub, Victor sprinkled epsom salt and a bubble bath solution into the warm water. The two of them eased themselves in, letting their bodies adjust to the temperature. 

“Would you mind giving me a hand?” Victor said as he handed Yuri a loofah and turned around.

“Sure.” Yuri poured body wash over it and scrubbed the enticing expanse of milky skin. 

At this point in their relationship, they’d seen each other naked countless times, but Yuri still hadn’t gotten past the awe of seeing Victor’s body. Victor’s body was like carved stone: tight and defined. Yuri had an athletic figure too, but, as many people often do, he found it easier to appreciate someone else’s body over his own. He had fought insecurities all his life. Fluctuating in weight. Being teased about it all throughout his teens and early twenties did a number on his self-esteem. Thankfully, in his thirties, he has grown to make peace with his body and love even the parts that society had taught him to hate. Of course, learning anything, including self-love, is rarely linear, and there were days when his insecurities were especially strong.

In that regard, being with Victor was a sort of double-edged sword—Yuri had never felt more loved the way he did with him, but he also couldn’t help but feel a tinge of insecurity during moments like this, when their nakedness wasn’t accompanied by sex and pleasure. Doing something ordinary like bathing together meant that his mind wasn’t clouded by desire. It was the perfect environment to dwell on negative thoughts. 

“Something wrong, miliy?” Victor asked after feeling Yuri pause a few moments. 

“Huh?” Yuri hadn’t noticed that he had stopped scrubbing after getting lost in thought. 

Victor turned around and grabbed the loofah from him. “May I?” 

“Oh, sure.” Yuri turned around and closed his eyes as Victor massaged his back and shoulders. 

“I can tell there’s something on your mind,” Victor said. “You can tell me, you know.” 

“It’s nothing, really.” Yuri looked down at the tiny bubbles popping and tickling his chest. “Sometimes I just wonder what I did to deserve you.”

“You deserve the best in the world.” Victor pulled Yuri closer until his back was resting on his chest. “Not saying I’m the best for you; that’s for you to decide, but I definitely try,” he said, planting a kiss on the nape of his neck.

“You’re incredible,” Yuri responded. He loved the way Victor made him feel. He was sweet, complimentary, and most importantly, sincere. Nevertheless, the worry still lingered. “Do you ever wonder if you could...I don’t know...do better?”

“Of course not, miliy. Why are you having these thoughts all of a sudden?” 

“It’s hard not to. I look at you, and you’re the whole package. Intelligent, accomplished, gorgeous. You’re perfect. Then, I look at myself, and I only see the things I’m lacking.” Yuri paused, sinking lower into the tup until the small ripples of water tugged at his collarbones. “Don’t get me wrong, I know I’m too hard on myself. Still, I can’t help it sometimes.”

“Oh, miliy, if only you could see yourself the way I see you. We all have our insecurities, but that doesn’t mean we’re any less deserving of love. I can’t tell you how to feel about yourself, but if it helps, I think you’re wonderful, inside and out. And for what it’s worth, no one is as perfect as they appear.”

“Oh yeah?” Yuri looked up at the Russian man, tilting his head, squinting his eyes, and pretending to examine him closely. “Looks damn near perfect to me.” 

Victor smiled and splashed Yuri with water.

“Hey!” Yuri exclaimed, wiping the droplets from his face. 

“That’s what you get for saying mean things about my favorite person.”

Yuri chucked, “Phichit says stuff like that to me all the time.”

“What stuff?”

“You know, like, ‘don’t talk to my best friend like that’ or ‘stop being mean to my friend Yuri.’ It’s silly, but it always makes me feel better. So, thank you for doing that.” 

“Good. Now that you have me and Phichit berating you with affirmations, maybe you’ll start to see how great you truly are.” 

“Hmm, maybe,” Yuri smiled. 

“In the meantime, I’ll just have to keep showering you with love and affection.” Victor wrapped his arms tightly around Yuri and started scattering kisses on the nape and sides of his neck, eliciting that soft, dulcet laughter he adored so much.

“Lucky me,” Yuri grinned. He craned his neck to kiss Victor on the cheek. He lingered a few moments before planting another on the corner of his mouth. The two of them locked eyes before going in for an extended kiss. Victor held Yuri close, and Yuri clung onto him as they made out in the tub. They paused to take a breath before returning to it. Yuri could feel Victor’s cock filling as it pressed against his lower back, and he wasn’t the only one. Yuri let go of Victor’s neck to stroke his growing erection with one hand, letting the desire within him and the water around him envelop his body. 

Miliy?” Victor pulled away, pushing away the strands of hair from Yuri’s forehead. 

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been thinking…” Victor hesitated, cheeks turning the lightest shade of pink. “Have you ever tried topping?” 

Yuri carefully turned and moved toward him until he was on top, straddling him with his legs on either side. “Hmm, topping?” he asked as he pressed himself closer, rubbing his cock against Victor’s. “Like, sexually?”

“Yeah,” Victor said as he savored the arousal building inside him. 

Yuri chuckled. “With women, sure, but with men, never.” 

“Would you…like to try it?”

Yuri stopped rocking his hips. He looked down with a nervous expression. “Umm…” 

“No pressure, of course. If you’re not comfortable with it, I completely understand,” Victor reassured. As much as he wanted it, making sure that Yuri felt secure to make decisions about his own body was most important. 

“It’s not that I’m not comfortable, it’s just that…” 

“What is it?”

“Since I’ve never done it before, I’m not sure if I can…” Yuri hesitated. “I’m not sure if I can…make you feel good…"

There it was again. Insecurity. Anxiety. Yuri wished he could just turn it off like a switch, but apparently that switch only went one way. First, it was his writing. Then, his body. Now, his skills in bed. He could feel himself sink.

Miliy,” Victor cupped Yuri’s face with both hands. There was a sense of urgency in it, as if he could tell Yuri was starting to fall into a negative headspace. He wanted to lift him up from it. “You always make me feel good. As long as we can have fun together, and we always do, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“O—okay...if you say so…” Yuri nervously rubbed at Victor’s shoulders. “So...you want me on top?” 

“If you’re comfortable with it, then I would be honored,” Victor smiled, hoping to put his partner at ease. 

“Yeah, I think...it would be fun...to try it.” 

“Are you sure? You don’t have to do it for my sake.”

“No, no, really! I mean it,” Yuri said as he continued to rub Victor’s shoulders. “I’d like to try it.” He breathed slower and deeper, forcing himself to focus on the firm feel of Victor’s muscles. His touch became less frantic as he ran his fingers rhythmically across his skin like playing a delicate instrument. 

Victor could feel Yuri’s body relax on his lap. He let his hands wander over his shoulders and down his back. Victor leaned in until their foreheads touched, but he didn’t go in for a kiss. Tonight, he would let Yuri set the pace.

Once Yuri finally got out of his head, he let his body do the talking. He ran his hands down Victor’s chest and closed in. He slipped his tongue in, exchanging slow kisses as he let the gentle caress of the water bring him back to his full erection. His hands dove under to stroke himself, rubbing his cock against Victors in the warm bath. He rolled his hips forward, indulging in his body’s natural reactions. There was something about the way Victor looked, felt, smelled—there was something about Victor—that made Yuri’s body go weak with lust.  

Victor controlled himself enough to let Yuri lead. As much as he wanted to devour him (because he looked damn good soaking wet), he savored the feeling of his silky skin against his thighs and abdomen. His low moans echoed through the bathroom as Yuri rubbed himself against him, coaxing him easily into a state of hypnotic pleasure. The sound of their voices bouncing on the walls, the steam from the bath—the whole experience made his head feel hazy, as if he were in a dream. But even his dreams couldn’t compare to this. Yuri was real. He was everything Victor wanted, and he was here.

The more Yuri let go of his inhibitions, the more apparent it became that his body needed more than just kisses. It yearned to be closer. At this point, his body felt hotter than the warm water surrounding it, and he didn’t know how much longer he could resist the temptation of pushing Victor back and gliding himself down on his thick, long dick. Just the thought of it drove him crazy. He dug his fingers harder into Victor’s shoulders and rocked his hips faster. Victor sensed the growing desperation and happily mirrored Yuri’s fervor. As the two of them moved together, the water splashed along the walls of the tub until it finally spilled over. 

“Maybe we should move this somewhere else,” Victor suggested. 

Yuri nodded, and the two of them hopped out of the tub, careful not to slip on the tile floor. Drying off as quickly as possible, the couple exchanged messy kisses as they made their way to the bedroom. They closed the door, once again shutting the poor poodle out, and stumbled over each other to get to the bed. Victor fell back onto the mattress, dragging Yuri down without breaking away from his sweet lips. He shimmied back until his head reached the pillows, and once he was there, he let his knees fall open, giving Yuri a fantastic view of his cock and asshole.

Yuri’s jaw fell as he gawked at the beautiful Russian man sprawled out on the bed in front of him. His heart pounded faster in his chest as he grew more aroused. The excitement was almost enough to make him forget that he was supposed to fuck Victor. A bit of nervousness returned as he slowly crawled on top of his partner. As much as he loved having Victor on top, he could certainly get used to this view. He hovered over him, admiring his sharp features that softened when he smiled at him. 

Victor reached up and laced his fingers behind Yuri’s neck. His kiss was gentle, inviting, and reassuring. He wanted Yuri to be in charge, and he needed to make him feel safe and free to take control. He sank back down into the mattress, resting his arms above his head and making his body as open as possible for Yuri to enjoy. He wanted to make it clear that he was Yuri’s for the taking, and the thought of it made his heart flutter with anticipation. He loved being inside Yuri, but he wanted to feel Yuri inside him too. He wanted to experience the ecstasy of having the man he loved fucking into him with relentless desire. He wanted to lose control, submit himself completely, allow his body to be taken by Yuri as much as his heart already had. 

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” he asked one last time.

Yuri nodded, and Victor reached across the bed to the drawer of his night stand. He covered his fingers in lubricant and reached down to finger himself. Yuri watched him sinfully tease around the outer rim, rubbing it with the slick liquid. Victor chuckled, amused by Yuri’s open admiration. He took Yuri’s hand and guided it down. He let out a soft moan as both of them rubbed their fingers against the sensitive opening. Victor pulled his hand away, letting Yuri handle the rest. 

Yuri used his middle finger to circle around Victor’s entrance, feeling him twitch and tighten as he pressed against it. He stuck a finger in with ease, and he immediately felt more blood rush south as he imagined how incredible it would feel to be inside him. He moved slowly, doing what he would normally do to himself when he was alone and thinking of Victor. He added another finger, loosening the man up without difficulty. 

Victor sighed and bit his lip as the steady pleasure coursed through his body. It had been a while since anyone had played with him that way, and he remembered just how much he enjoyed it. The feel of Yuri stretching him out with care made him more excited to be filled to the brim with his sticky, hot cum. Once he felt ready, Victor reached down to stroke Yuri’s cock, letting his hand glide up and down its full length with residual lube.

Yuri felt his face and body burn hotter. “You’re gorgeous,” he said, his voice quiet and revenant. 

Victor flushed a deeper shade of red, feeling exposed and vulnerable under Yuri’s gaze. “Do you want to fuck me, miliy?” Victor asked with a playful smirk.

“More than anything,” Yuri responded, hips pushing into Victor’s loose grip a few more times before tearing himself away. He pulled his fingers out, and Victor whined at the empty feeling. “Turn over,” Yuri said. 

The firm demand took Victor by surprise. He couldn’t help but smirk and happily oblige. Once he was on his hands and knees, he glanced over his shoulder with a deceptively innocent look. “Like this?” he asked as he arched his back and stuck his plump ass into the air.

Yuri nodded, rendered speechless by his partner’s effortless sensuality. Yuri had always known this, but at that moment, it was abundantly clear: he loved having power. And that was the beauty of sex. That was what drew Yuri to it when he first started writing. Sex allowed people to safely explore power, and power was wild, fluid, and unpredictable. He could have Victor and be had by him. Tonight, Victor was his. 

Yuri inched forward on his knees, leaning himself against Victor’s milky thighs. He leaned down, planting his cheek against Victor's warm back. He scattered kisses along his spine, and his hand reached around his torso to play with his perky nipples. His other hand reached further down, working Victor’s cock. The weight and girth of it felt satisfying in Yuri’s hands. 

“I want to feel you inside me,” Victor moaned, growing impatient as the length of Yuri’s erection rubbed against his hole. 

“How badly do you want me, Vitya?” Yuri whispered in his ear, gliding his dick between his firm glutes. 

“Ah—fuck, miliy...you don’t know what you do to me,” Victor struggled to respond through his heaving chest. Yuri’s low voice sent shivers through his body, and he whimpered as Yuri continued to stroke and tease him from behind. “I want you...all of you…so bad...” 

Satisfied with his answer, Yuri moved back, keeping a hand on Victor’s dick as he positioned his own around Victor’s entrance. He rubbed the pink and swollen tip against it and slowly buried it in his warm, wet hole. Yuri threw his head back at the deep, all-consuming pleasure. He allowed the sensation to run through his body before he started rocking his hips, moving himself in and out of Victor at an easy pace. 

Victor gripped the metal bars on the headboard and looked back to watch his beautiful partner fuck him for the first time. He closed his eyes, letting the tangled mess of love and lust build inside him with each thrust. “More, Yuri” he begged, “I want you deeper and harder.”

The way Victor looked back at him with stormy eyes and disheveled hair. The way the skin on his ass rippled each time their hips snapped together. He looked magnificent, and something about this newly-discovered submissiveness turned Yuri on because, fuck, did it suit him. Watching Victor take him to the hilt and beg for more awakened something in Yuri. Whatever nervousness he felt was long forgotten. There was no doubt in his mind that he could make Victor feel good. For god’s sake, the man was chanting his name like prayer. Yuri didn’t need to hold back; he could be greedy and demanding, and Victor would fall on his knees for him, as he would for Victor. 

Yuri took a handful of Victor’s hair and pulled him up at an angle. Victor moaned as the sharp sensation coursed through his body. The corner of his mouth curled up in a momentary smirk. This night had surpassed his expectations, and he was beyond pleased at Yuri’s growing confidence. Yuri bit down on the crook of his neck, leaving red marks over his pale skin. He buried his face in it, taking in the heady scent of salt and musk. He stroked Victor’s dick in time with his thrusts until he could hear his breath quicken and shallow. Watching Victor come apart drove Yuri to the edge of his orgasm, but he held back, wanting the experience to last a little longer. 

“You feel—ah—incredible, miliy,” Victor stuttered. He was so close. Each time Yuri’s dick found his prostate, a surge of pleasure tore through him. After a few more thrusts, Victor shoved his face into the pillow, burying the muffled sound of his breathy moans. He shot ribbons of cum onto the sheets below him, coating Yuri’s hand as his cock continued to twitch and throb in his firm grip. 

Yuri didn’t relent, he kept his vigorous pace, feeling the heat building as Victor’s greedy hole gripped him tight. “Vitya, you’re so good for me,” he said. “I—I’m so close—”  He pounded into Victor as his body trembled from his own climax. He shoved himself deeper inside and remained there for a moment, letting the tension in his body subside before slowly pulling out of him. He sat back on his ankles. He caught his breath as he watched his cum trickle out of Victor’s gaping hole and drip down his balls. A pleased smirk graced the corner of Yuri’s mouth in some self-congratulatory gesture. Oh, the things he was capable of when his anxiety left him alone, he thought to himself. 

Victor pushed himself up in time for Yuri to drape his arms over his shoulders from behind. Victor turned to kiss his arm and chuckled when he bumped into Yuri’s face in the process. “That was incredible,” he said.

Yuri hummed as he squeezed Victor in a tight hug. “I’m glad,” he said, both relieved and content. “I think you bring out the best in me.”

Victor smiled softly, turning around and scoping his partner up in his arms. He looked at him with earnestness and affection. “You’re already perfect.” He mirrored what Yuri said to him in the bath. It was his way of saying they were equal. Perfect or not, they were meant for each other, and Victor believed it with his whole being.

As the two of them lay together, basking in the quiet afterglow, they shared the same thought before falling asleep: I wish this feeling would last forever.

Chapter 14: Read All About It

Summary:

The one where Yuri gets bad news, literally.

HELLO! October update is here, and ya girl finally has some free time ; u; I need a bit of a break to recover and catch on up on writing since my brain still feels like jello, so thank you in advance for your patience!

This is a bit of a shorter chapter, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! :)

You're all so wonderful and amazing~ See you in November!

Chapter Text

Miliy.”

 “…”

“Yuri.”

“…”

“Yuri!” 

“Ugh, what?” Yuri rolled over and flung his arm across the mattress, accidentally smacking Victor in the face. 

“Ow!” 

“Oh, sorry!” Yuri turned to him with momentary concern. “But that’s what you get for being so noisy in the morning,” he said with a cheeky smile. 

I’m noisy?” Victor grabbed Yuri and pulled him on top of him, planting playful kisses on his face. “For your information, I only woke you up because your phone’s been going off for the past half hour.” 

“Oh!” 

 Yuri hadn’t noticed his phone buzzing on the nightstand. He checked it, alarmed to see the slew of missed calls and messages from Phichit. 

[7 missed calls] 

[11 messages]

7:30 a.m. You awake?

7:30 a.m. Pick up.

7:30 a.m. Wake up! 

7:31 a.m. Really important. Seriously. Pick up.

7:34 a.m. Dude.

7:36 a.m. YOU HAVE TO FUCKING SEE THIS.

7:48 a.m. Fine, if you’re not gonna pick up, just check this out: grandprixpost.com/20207/top_stories/campus_life/69420

7:48 a.m. Call me when you do.

7:50 a.m. Oh, and I’m coming over tonight. 

7:50 a.m. With wine. 

7:50 a.m. I think you’ll need it. 

Yuri turned to Victor. “Grand Prix Post?”

“It’s the university newspaper,” Victor responded.

“What could possibly be so urgent in a school newspaper?” 

“I don’t know, but I guess it’s important,” Victor said, staring at his own phone. “Chris sent me the same thing.” He opened the link, which directed him to the top stories page of the newspaper’s website.

Yuri was too busy texting Phichit back to notice that Victor had been stunned to silence. When he finally looked up and saw his shocked expression, a sense of dread washed over him. “Victor? What is it?”

Victor didn’t respond. Instead, he held up his phone to Yuri’s face. In that instant, he understood. 

“Shit.” 

_______________________________________

Yuri Plisetsky sat at his desk, working on a final paper. He had been spinning his wheels the whole morning, and if he had to read one more article about contemporary dance history, he would pull all his hair out. He needed a break, but unfortunately, Otabek was in class, so he couldn’t bother him for a distraction. Instead, he closed his laptop and packed it away along with his books. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and checked himself in the mirror before leaving. He could keep working in the library across campus, and hopefully the ten-minute walk would be enough to clear his head.

As he walked along the flowering trees, he couldn’t help but think of Eros. He discovered his work in high school, a time when his family life had taken a turn for the worst. After his parents’ acrimonious divorce, his mother sent him away to live with his grandfather. Even though he loved his grandfather, his parents’ separation had taken its toll. He felt angry, resentful, hurt. He became cynical and bitter. He stopped believing in romantic love completely. 

But that all changed when he discovered Eros. Yuri had always loved reading, and he spent most of his free time outside school and dance classes curled up in the corner of his room with his cat, a blanket, and a book. During one visit to the bookstore, he casually perused the erotica section on his way to the classics aisle. He picked up Eors’ novel out of curiosity more than anything, but when he started, he couldn’t put it down. It was nothing like the books he’d read before, and he enjoyed that. If a book could wear its heart on its sleeve, then Eros’ book certainly did. It was refreshing reading something so sincere, even if it did include gratuitous blowjobs every now and then. Yuri couldn’t explain it, but before he could even try, he had purchased all of Eros’ novels. They were the perfect escape from reality, and in some ways, they kept him hopeful.  

As a long-time fan, he still couldn’t wrap his head around Eros’ true identity. He had so many questions: Why did he quit? What made him want to pursue teaching? Did anyone else in the university know? If anyone did, he would have placed his bets on Professor Nikiforov. He’d seen the two of them around campus together, and they seemed close. Friends, definitely. More than friends, maybe. Perhaps he should ask him what he knew during office hours, he thought. Would it be weird? They’ve only ever talked about Russian literature. That was his own fault; Professor Nikiforov was one of those rare professors that actually cared about him as a person, not just a student. He asked him about life outside of classes and gave great advice, but Yuri couldn’t help being closed off. Now he wished he had been more open. If he had, maybe asking him about Professor Katsuki wouldn’t seem so out-of-the-blue. 

When he finally reached the library, he noticed the stack of newspapers, copies of the Grand Prix Post, displayed on a vertical rack by the entrance. He picked up a copy. It was no New York Times, but the crossword would serve as a fine brain break when he needed it. He glanced at the front page, expecting the usual articles discussing collegiate and local news, but instead, his eyes grew wide at a photograph of a familiar face and a headline worthy of the tabloids. 

“When Sex Doesn’t Sell: How One Eriotic Novelist Went from Author to Adjunct” 

Anonymous—Grand Prix University 

April 20, 2027

This past fall, Grand Prix University (GPU) welcomed its students and esteemed scholars for another exciting school year. From Pulitzer Prize winners, to decorated war heroes, to renowned living philosophers, GPU has always boasted an impressive array of scholarship and experience in its faculty. But this year, one professor caught the attention of some students for a different reason. 

At first glance, Professor Yuri Katsuki, Ph.D., seems like the typical academic. Hailing from a small town in Japan, he came to the United States to participate in a graduate program and graduated with a degree in Japanese literature. Unlike most professors, however, he decided to step away from academia to focus on a different calling: erotic fiction. While seemingly humble and unextraordinary, Professor Katsuki has plenty of skeletons in his closet, many of them starved for love as his novels suggest. This secret and scandalous life led him to write under the name ‘Eros.’ 

Professor Katsuki began publishing novels two years after earning his graduate degree. He signed a contract with Sochi Publishing, an independent publisher known only for producing mediocre works of fiction. Professor Katsuki was the first erotic novelist to sign with Sochi, thanks to Celestino Cialdini, his former editor, who acted as the middle man while they negotiated Eros’ contract. During a phone interview, Mr. Cialdini divulged information about Professor Katsuki never before revealed to the public. According to him, negotiations took longer than previous negotiations he’d experienced with other authors, mostly due to Sochi’s reluctance to sign “a no-name porn writer.” They also hesitated to sign him after reading samples of his work, stating that it would “never sell.” Desperate to move the process along, Professor Katsuki agreed to a lower percentage of royalties, giving up money to pursue his dream. 

Unfortunately for everyone involved, Sochi was right. Professor Katsuki’s first novel, Be My Sex Coach, wasn’t exactly flying off the shelves. Even with such a bold title, the books were barely selling enough to pay the bills. According to Mr. Cialdini, Professor Katsuki struggled during the first few years of his career, to the point where he was forced to move into Mr. Cialdini’s home for a few months after losing his apartment. Despite this apparent failure, Professor Katsuki fought to keep Eros alive. Another two years went by before he published the sequel, which was a mild success compared to his first. Still, the numbers were disappointing, and after publishing the final book to the Be My Sex Coach trilogy, Professor Katsuki put down his pen and put Eros to rest for good. 

This raises two questions: “how did he end up at GPU?” and “were his novels really that terrible?” As to the first question, the world may never know. GPU’s Dean Jean-Jaques Leroy has declined to comment on the lack of transparency with regard to the faculty selection process on multiple occasions, and this incident is no exception. Despite this gap of information, one thing is for sure—when it comes to academic accomplishments, Professor Katsuki is the odd one out. While he has published numerous articles on Japanese literature, he differs from his colleagues, not only because he has no accolades to his name, but also because he simply isn’t qualified. Being a professor takes years of dedication. It requires understanding and developing pedagogy; having a Ph.D. and a failed writing career just doesn’t cut it. 

As to the second question, well, let’s put it this way: if you’re looking for thought-provoking literature, Professor Katsuki’s novels are not for you. However, if you’re looking for a raunchy afternoon read that will leave you cringing at the thought of having sex ever again, then look no further. 

After reading the article, Yuri was livid. He forgot all about his essay and stormed across campus with the newspaper in hand. He only knew one person with enough sense of entitlement to write an amateur exposé and pass it off as news. Once he got back to the dorms, he marched to the end of the hall and banged on Olivia’s door. She answered, bubblegum pop blasting in the background. As if he wasn’t irritated enough. 

“It was you, wasn’t it?” He dangled the newspaper in front of her. “You wrote this.”  

She grabbed the newspaper and took a moment to examine it. “You think I would write that tripe?” She scoffed and shoved it back to him.

“Yeah, you’re exactly the type of person who would write this shit. You looked through my laptop after I told you not to.” 

“You don’t have any proof.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorway with a smug expression that made Yuri’s blood boil. 

“I don’t need any. I can read your pompous face like a fucking book, so stop lying.”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “Fine. If you can read me so well, then you should know why I did it and why that asshole had it coming.”

“Why? Because he gave you a shitty grade? Are you really that fucking petty?” Yuri clenched his fist. The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. “How the hell did you even get the editors to put this on the front page? It’s garbage.”

“Oh, ignorant Yura, this may come as a surprise to you, but a low-budget college newspaper will do anything for a generous donation.” 

“Don’t fucking call me that.” Yuri shook his head, disgust written all over his face. “You could cost him his job. Did you even think about that? What kind of conceited, entitled piece of shit would put someone’s livelihood on the line because of a ‘C’ in one class?” Olivia was lucky she even got that grade, Yuri thought. Professor Katsuki probably went easy on her. He seemed like the type. 

“Not my problem. Good riddance is all I have to say to that pervert and you!” Olivia slammed the door in Yuri’s face, and Yuri exploded. He kicked the door and hurled curses from the hallway. Other students peered out from their doors to see what the commotion was all about. Just then, Otabek walked in. 

“Yura,” he called out. “What’s going on?”

Yuri stopped yelling, but he didn’t answer. He just walked over, shoved the newspaper in Otabek’s chest, and stormed off into their room. Otabek saw the photo and quickly skimmed the article. After, he followed Yuri inside, where he sat sulking on his bed with his headphones on. Otabek took off the soundproof device and sat next to him on the mattress.

“Did Olivia write this?” He asked, holding up the newspaper.

“Yeah, that fucking snake.” 

“I know you don’t like her, and I know you’re an Eors fan, but why is this upsetting you so much?

“Because he doesn’t deserve that! She did it to get back at him for giving her a passing grade. He didn’t even fail her! And she has the audacity to write that shit anonymously? What a fucking coward.” Yuri’s chest heaved, and his anger made his face burn hot. He gritted his teeth and took deep breaths to calm himself. “Plus, Eros was always careful. There was probably a reason why he kept his identity a secret. I don’t know what that reason is, but it was obviously important to him, and it’s not fair that assholes like Olivia can just out him like that. That’s low.” 

Otabek didn’t know what to say. He was a quiet guy by nature, and he figured the best thing he could do in that moment was listen. 

“What’s done is done,” Yuri continued, “but I can’t sit here and do nothing about it. I feel like shit.”

“You have no reason to. It’s not your fault.”

“But it is! It was a mistake to post the picture of him; I know that now. If I hadn’t, Olivia wouldn’t have found out.” Yuri seldom felt guilt, but at the moment, it hit him hard. As a fan, he knew the policy at Eros’ book signings and meet-and-greets: no pictures. He should have respected his privacy. 

“So, what do you want to do?”

“I don’t know. Report her to the school?” Unfortunately, Yuri knew that wouldn’t work. As abhorrent and wrong as her actions were, they weren’t against the rules. It wasn’t like she lied in the article. Sure, the tone was hyper-critical and derisive, but having an opinion wasn’t a crime.

“Maybe you should check in on Professor Katsuki. If you’re worried about him, he might appreciate hearing from you.”

“He doesn’t know me.”

“He will if you talk to him.”

“Ugh.” Yuri fell back onto the mattress and buried his face in a pillow. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll go to his office.”

Without saying more, Otabek slid off the bed and sat at his desk to prepare for a few hours of grueling mathematics. Before he could get his books out, Yuri interrupted, “Beka,” he said through the pillow, “thanks.” 

_________________________________

Meanwhile… 

“This can’t be happening,” Yuri said as he frantically slipped on his pants and short-sleeved polo. He and Victor were getting dressed to go to campus. Yuri desperately needed a hug from Phichit, and Victor had a lecture starting in an hour. “This can’t be real. This is a nightmare. Punch me in the face!” He turned around to grab Victor’s fist and positioned it on his cheek. 

Victor pulled it away. “No,” he said firmly. “I know you’re panicking, but we’ll get to the bottom of this, okay? I already emailed the editor-in-chief about taking the article down from the website.”

“That still doesn’t fix the hundreds of newspapers in circulation. Did you ask him who wrote it? How did they even find out about me?”

“I mean, Chris and I found out. It took a little digging, but the information’s out there, miliy . Anyone could have found it. But, look, the university newspaper is a joke. No one actually reads it. They just do the crossword. Well, at least that’s what I do.” 

Yuri slumped down on the bed and buried his face in his palms. Victor sat next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

“I don’t know what to do…” Yuri said hopelessly. “Now everyone knows. It was bad enough when you and Chris found out, but fuck...we’re talking the whole university, the whole town.”

“I’m sorry, miliy .” It was all Victor could say. He didn’t know how to comfort him apart from staying close and letting him know he wasn’t alone. “I can’t believe your old editor would do that to you. He can’t just give out information about you like that, can he?”

“This isn’t his fault. I’ve never liked interviews, so Celestino always did them for me, and I gave him the greenlight to say whatever needed to be said as long as it didn’t give away my identity.” 

“That makes sense. He probably didn’t know what the article was really about. Whoever wrote this, whoever asked him questions, must’ve lied to him.”

“This can’t get any worse,” Yuri lamented.

Just as he finished his sentence, his phone pinged. He reached for the device across the mattress and checked his notifications. It was an email from Yakov.

Professor Katsuki,

I hope this message finds you well. In light of the article Grand Prix Post published this morning, I ask that you come to my office as soon as possible to discuss matters regarding your position. 

Best,

Yakov Feltsman, Ph.D.

Department Chair

GPU Modern Languages Department 

[email protected]

“Victor…” Yuri’s voice cracked as he felt his chest tighten. “I—I’m going to lose my job…” 

 

Chapter 15: Breaking Point

Summary:

The one where shit gets real.

Aaaah sorry for the late post! I went on a little weekend getaway to Sequoia National Park this weekend, so I didn't have time to post on Friday. I'm also in the middle of moving, so writing has been slow af this past month ; n;

TW: bullying, harassment, anxiety attacks.

Thank you again for all your love and support~

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The short drive to the university was quiet. Victor kept his eyes on the road while Yuri stared out the window, doing everything in his power to keep his anxiety at bay. His eyes were red and puffy from crying all morning. Seeing the article was bad enough, but receiving the email from Yakov was the stuff of nightmares. All his fears had materialized in one short paragraph, and he was heading to Yakov’s office to put the final nail in his career coffin. 

Once they arrived, the two men walked to the department together. Victor waited for Yuri to drop his briefcase before breaking their silence. “Are you going to be okay?” He walked toward him and held his hands. 

Yuri nodded. He would be okay. He would be unemployed, but he would be okay. He had spent the past hour mentally preparing himself for the bad news, and there was nothing he could do about it now. 

“If you want, I can talk to Yakov for you. You haven’t done anything wrong. I’m sure there’s something we can do.” 

“Thank you, but I don’t think I’m coming back from this,” Yuri said defeatedly. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

“Of course. I love you. Don’t forget that, okay?” 

“I love you too.” Yuri managed a weak smile before letting go. “I have to go. I just want to get this over with.”

Victor kissed Yuri before leaving, and Yuri made his way to Yakov’s office. Once there, he knocked on the door and heard a voice telling him to enter. His hands shook as he hovered over the brass doorknob. This was it. 

“Yuri, come in.”

Yakov was comfortably seated behind a large wooden desk. Yuri timidly stepped inside. The department chair’s office was only slightly bigger than the regular offices, but the difference was enough to make the atmosphere more intimidating. It didn’t help that Yakov already had a daunting presence.

“Yuri, I’d like to introduce you to Minako Okukawa.” 

It took a moment for Yuri to notice the Japanese woman standing next to Yakov’s desk. She walked toward him and extended a hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Katsuki. I’m Minako. I work in Human Resources.”

Yuri gulped. A formal meeting with the department chair? A representative from HR? He was definitely getting fired. He shook her hand, hoping she wouldn’t notice how clammy his was. 

“Have a seat,” said Yakov. “I promise this won’t take lo—”

“—Before you say anything,” Yuri interrupted, “I—I already know what this is about…” He clenched his fist as he felt his lip quiver. It took all his willpower to keep himself from crying. “I’m guessing you’ll need me to stay through the semester, but once finals are over, I’ll clear my office as soon as possible.”

Yakov and Minako stared at each other with puzzled looks. They looked back at Yuri, who was too busy holding it together to notice their confused faces. 

“Yuri, what are you talking about?”

“It’s okay, Yakov. You don’t have to sugarcoat it. I know you have to fire me. I get it. This is exactly why I didn’t say anything about my novels in my CV.”

“What? No, no, I think you’re misunderstanding the situation.”

Now Yuri was the one with a confused look on his face. “Wait...so, I’m not fired? I thought you wanted me gone because of my writing.”

“Of course not,” Yakov said. The certainty in his voice made Yuri feel a million times lighter. “That has nothing to do with your qualifications. We brought you into the department because we thought you’d be a great addition to the faculty. You’ve been published in numerous reputable journals, you had the requisite teaching experience, you did well in your interviews. What you choose to write in your free time is your business, and it certainly doesn’t say anything about your skills as a professor.” 

Yuri couldn’t help but smile. He felt a massive amount of stress and anxiety melt off his body. If he wasn’t so scared of Yakov, he would’ve given him a hug. But still, the question remained.

“I’m glad that I get to keep this job, but then...what is this meeting all about? In your email, you said this was about the article and my position.”

Yakov sighed, but before he could say anything, the HR representative stepped in. “Mr. Katsuki, I can explain. I understand that you used to be a writer, correct?”

“Umm, yeah.”

“Well, based on the article that came out this morning, and based on the...explicit...nature of your writing, Mr. Feltsman and a few other administrators fear that your presence on campus might cause some...controversy.”

“That’s why we called Minako here, Yuri,” Yakov interjected. “We’re happy to keep you on board, but we also want you to know that the article might have some consequences. We want you to be prepared for that.”

“What consequences?” Yuri asked

“Why don’t you sit down so we can explain.”

Yuri sat across the desk from Yakov, and Minako took the empty seat next to him. 

“Mr. Katsuki—”

“Please, call me Yuri.”

“Right. Yuri. The thing is, these are sort of uncharted waters for the department and the university as a whole. The university has no problem with your writing. In fact, it supports your creative endeavors, but it can’t control other people’s opinions about the matter.”

Yuri listened intently, but he wasn’t sure where Minako was going. 

“The article was...how should I put it…”

“Brutal?” Yuri offered.

“Yes, and that kind of criticism not only puts you under a microscope, but it could also motivate other people to do or say things that might be offensive or harassing. Do you understand?”

“I’m not sure I do. Are you saying people are going to harass me because of my writing?”

“There’s no guarantee that’ll happen, and we truly hope it doesn’t. Still, that possibility exists. So…” Minako placed a folder on the table and slid it toward Yuri. “I’ve compiled some resources that you might find helpful, just in case. I know you went through sexual harassment training when you started working here, but I included a sheet with information on reporting inappropriate behaivior anyway.”

Yuri opened the folder. In addition to the sheet Minako mentioned, it also contained information about free psychological resources on campus, a how-to guide for professors dealing with flirtatious students, and other things that only triggered Yuri’s anxiety instead of making him feel better. 

“Umm...thank you…” Yuri murmured.

“I know this is a lot to take in.” Minako said. “Best case scenario, you won’t have to use any of those resources, and you can keep teaching here without any issues, but if something does happen, we want you to know that you can always find help and support. The university doesn’t tolerate any form of harassing behavior.” 

Yuri nodded.

“Well, that was everything we wanted to cover,” Yakov said. “If you have any questions or concerns, you know where to find me.”

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Mianko said as she handed Yuri her business card. “Please, don’t hesitate to contact me.” 

After Yakov dismissed the meeting, Yuri walked to Phichit’s office with his “harassment kit” in hand. He would have gone to Victor first, but he was still in his lecture. Besides, would Victor really want to hear about the possibility of his partner being harassed? Of course not. Yuri would tell Victor, but he would downplay the whole thing. He was a busy man who didn’t need the added stress of his partner’s problems. 

Once he got to Phichit’s office, Yuri collapsed onto the magenta couch in the corner. Phichit gave him a tight hug and sat by his feet, offering him some freshly steeped tea.

“I told you I would come by with wine tonight. Guess you couldn’t wait, huh?”

Yuri sat up and accepted the cup. Even though it was almost summer, University Hall was always notoriously cold, and the warm tea was a welcome comfort. 

“What’s going on?” Phichit asked. 

“Yakov called me into his office this morning. I thought I was getting fired. He even had an HR rep there to talk to me.”

“Fuck, dude. HR? That’s no joke. That’s like getting called into the principal’s office with your parents waiting for you inside.”

“Tell me about it,” Yuri sighed.

“So, what happened?”

Yuri handed Phichit the folder and told him everything that had transpired. Like a good friend, Phichit listened with open ears and a sympathetic heart. He kept his hand on Yuri’s knee, hoping the extra touch would comfort him. 

“I’m really sorry, Yuri. I’m glad you get to stay, but the thought of being bullied like that is terrifying.”

“I just feel so helpless, you know?”

“Yeah. But like they said, that’s just a possibility. Stuff like this always blows up. It’s like the tabloids. By next week, it’ll be old news,” Phichit reassured. 

“I hope you’re right.” 

After Yuri finished his cup and said goodbye to Phichit, he walked back to his office and hid the folder away in his drawer. He plopped down onto his chair to take a breath just in time to see Victor return from his lecture. Victor rushed to him, concern etched in the wrinkles between his brows. He asked about the meeting, and Yuri told him a watered-down version of what happened. He explained that he wasn’t fired. He said Yakov called him in to see how he was taking the news and whether it would affect his performance. Victor was visibly relieved, and he didn’t hesitate to wrap yuri in a tight, long hug. Of course, Yuri felt a little guilty for lying, but Phichit was probably right; this whole thing would blow over soon, and there was no need to worry Victor over nothing. 

________________________________

By the next day, almost everyone had read the article. The news spread like wildfire, and talk of it flooded every square inch of the university. Victor was taking Makka to the vet that morning, so Yuri arrived alone. The minute he stepped on campus grounds, he could feel hundreds of eyes shift toward him. The attention made him uneasy. He made himself smaller as he walked, slouching and keeping his head down in the hopes that he would become invisible. Unfortunately, none of it worked. Groups of students noticed him and parted like the Red Sea to let him pass.

“That’s him. That’s Eros.

“He’s the guy who writes shitty erotic novels.”

“Gross. Such a sick freak. I can’t believe they let him teach here.”

Their whispers sounded louder than anything else. They echoed in his ears and made his head ache. He started feeling disoriented, and he quickened his pace to escape the deafening chatter. He rushed across the street without paying much attention to his surroundings, and as stepped off the curb, he heard someone shout “watch out!” He jumped back just in time to avoid a passing vehicle. That was a close call. Too close. It snapped him back to reality, and after taking a few moments to regain his composure, he rushed to his first class, fighting hard to ignore the people that had now gathered around him.

When he walked in, everyone was already seated. “Sorry I’m a few minutes late,” he said, voice still shaky from the near-death experience. As he rushed in, he tripped on something. His body hit the floor with a loud thud, and the contents of his briefcase spilled out. It almost felt like he tripped on someone’s leg. He looked back, and the aisle looked clear. Maybe it was just his imagination, but either way, it was humiliating. His face burned red as he heard his students laughing. A few of them offered to help him pick up his papers, but most of them just watched and chuckled. 

He brushed himself off and started the lesson. As he spoke and wrote on the board, however, he could hear murmurs and quiet laughter behind him. He started to sweat. He started to shiver. He wasn’t sure if he was too hot or too cold. He couldn’t stop his hand from shaking, and he dropped the marker on the ground. He abandoned the board entirely, hoping that the class could follow along with only verbal instruction.

“S—so...the difference between—”

There it was again. Snickers. Whispers. 

Nevertheless, he stuttered on, “Th—the difference between the...umm, the c—conditional words ba and tara turns on...umm—it umm, it turns on…” 

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep his voice steady. They were mocking him. He could feel it under his skin. He looked around the room as his students waited for him to continue. A few of them looked confused, a few of them looked uninterested, but the few that looked amused were the ones that caught his attention. They hid their vicious smiles behind their hands, but Yuri knew. They snickered, almost as if they couldn’t help it. He was the butt of their joke, and Yuri could feel himself dissociating. 

“I—I’m sorry…” he said as he grabbed his things. “I have to go. Class dismissed.”

Yuri ran to his office. He couldn't handle being in there anymore. He couldn’t handle being around people. He kept his eyes low to avoid eye contact with anybody. He didn’t have it in him for small talk. He was already on the verge of a panic attack, and he needed to get to a private space quickly. He felt relieved to see the glass doors of the department. He swung them open and rushed inside, accidentally crashing into someone. 

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” 

Yuri looked up, recognizing the blonde, green-eyed teen in front of him. “S—so sorry!” he said before stumbling forward and rushing to his office. Once he was safely behind closed doors, he sat in his chair, cupped both hands over his mouth and nose, and breathed. He summoned up every breathing technique he’d ever learned, hoping to avoid the oncoming panic attack. He knew the feeling all too well, and he needed to get a hold of himself before it got a hold of him .

While Yuri Katsuki locked himself inside, Yuri Plisetsky stood by the department entrance, confused after his surprise encounter with the frantic professor, who bolted to his office and shut the door, giving the boy no chance to speak. He had come to the department to see him after taking Otabek’s advice. He hadn’t prepared anything to say, really. Maybe he’d start with a re-introduction, a “how are you” or something like that. He wasn’t good at being nice, but this was for Eros , and for him, maybe, just maybe, he could swallow his pride. 

He took a seat on a couch facing the office. He was already there, he might as well wait a few minutes to see if Professor Katsuki opens his door, he thought. He took out his book to pass the time, but after fifteen minutes, he got tired of waiting. As he got up to leave, he saw Professor Nikiforov enter. 

“Mr. Plisetsky!” Victor greeted him. “Here for office hours?” 

Yuri hesitated, “Uh, yeah, I guess.” If he couldn’t talk to Professor Katsuki, Professor Nikiforov was probably the next best option. He followed the professor as he opened his office. “Umm, would you mind if I shut the door? I wanted to talk to you about something...personal...well, not personal to me, but...”

“Sure, of course,” Victor said.

Yuri nodded as he closed the door behind him and took a seat. 

A moment of awkward silence passed. Sensing the student’s discomfort, Victor began, “So, what can I help you with today?” 

Yuri shifted in his seat before responding. “I...well, I was wondering if you’ve read the Grand Prix Post recently.”

Without saying anything more, Victor knew this would be about the article. “Yes, I have,” he said plainly. He didn’t want to disclose too much, so he waited for Yuri to lead the conversation.

“So...you’ve read the article...about...Professor Katsuki?”

“Yes.”

It was clear that Victor wasn’t going to give anything away. Yuri was hoping he would do some unsolicited oversharing (something he tended to do during lectures and office hours), but today, he was uncharacteristically quiet. 

“Umm...how is he...Professor Katsuki, I mean?”

“He’s handling it as well as anyone can.” Victor examined the boy’s face as he strained to think of more questions to ask. “Mr. Plisetsky, what is this all about?”

Yuri didn’t know how to respond, but he figured the truth would be a good place to start. “I—I wanted to check in with him...make sure he was okay,” he said with contrived nonchalance. 

Victor couldn’t help but smile. He’d had Yuri in his classes for two semesters, and he’d always seemed unfriendly and unapproachable. It was refreshing to see a softer, more caring side of him, even if he did try to hide it with his gruff voice. Still, Victor was surprised that he directed this care toward Yuri Katsuki, someone he’d only met once and immediately seemed to dislike. 

“That’s thoughtful of you to ask,” Victor said. “He’s hanging in there. But why don’t you ask him yourself? He’s right next door.”

“I was going to,” Yuri explained. “He seemed...occupied.” 

“Oh,” Victor wondered what Yuri meant by that. “Well, then, I’ll let him know you stopped by.”

“Right, okay.” Yuri got up from his seat, stopping halfway before deciding to sit back down. “Actually, I had a few more questions. You’re good friends with Professor Katsuki, right?”

Victor chuckled, “Yes, I guess you could say that. He’s my partner.”

“Got it,” Yuri responded. He had a feeling that was the case. “Then, you already knew about his writing—about Eros—right?” 

“That’s right.” 

“I—I’ve known about Eros too. Well, I didn’t know he was Professor Katsuki, but I’ve...read his books...in the past…” Yuri turned away, feeling his face get hot after realizing that he had just confessed to reading erotica to his literature professor. “Anyway, I didn’t know who else to go to, so I figured I would tell him directly, but I guess I could tell you too.” Yuri paused to look up at the professor, who seemed anxious to hear what he had to say. “I know who wrote the article.”

Victor’s eyes grew wide. “What? How?”

“It’s a long story, but it’s a girl from my dorm. She did it to get back at Professor Katsuki for giving her a low grade.”

Victor couldn’t believe it. All this for revenge?

“Thank you. I appreciate the information. I tried asking the newspaper for names, but they wouldn’t disclose anonymous contributors.” Victor leaned back in his seat. “It was hard for him,” he sighed. “He was really hoping that this career would be a fresh start. A way to get away from his writing.”

“What for? He was grea—” Yuri caught himself before he could turn into a complete fanboy. “I mean, his books aren’t as bad as the article made them seem.” 

“I agree,” Victor said with a small smile curling the corner of his lips. Yuri was undoubtedly an Eros fan. 

“So...” Finally, Yuri would get to ask the question that bothered him since the day he discovered the truth. “Why did he quit?” 

Victor explained everything to the boy: about Yuri’s insecurities with his writing, about how he applied to GPU after giving up on his dream career, about how Victor discovered the truth through a post on Reddit (Yuri kept his mouth shut. It was bad enough that his professor knew he read erotic novels; he didn’t need the added humiliation of being labeled Eroticalover69 forever). Victor wasn’t sure whether he had any right to tell Yuri all this information about his partner, but the boy seemed genuinely concerned, and god knows the Japanese professor needed more allies in this mess. 

Yuri sank in his seat. He had no idea Eros felt that way. Fans don’t always look beyond the works that authors produced. They often don’t see the hard work, the pressure, the toll. He almost felt guilty for it. 

“Anyway, thank you for telling me about the student—Olivia Clancy, was it?”

“Yeah. What are you going to do? It makes me sick thinking that she could get away with something like this.”

“I know. I don’t know if there’s much I can do. I’ll talk to the department chair about it and go from there. I’ll email you if anything important comes up.”

“Okay. Thanks.” 

After the boy left, Victor promptly drafted an email to Yakov to request a meeting. Even with the information, he wasn’t sure what he could do to make things better. The article had been published, and he couldn’t unring that bell. He looked out the window with a scowl on his face. He didn’t know how, but no matter what, he needed to protect Yuri.

_____________________________________________

That night, Yuri couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned, occasionally waking Victor. He dismissed the sleepy Russian man when he asked if everything was alright. Even Makka’s adorable snoring in the corner wasn’t enough to lull him to sleep. Thankfully, he only needed to survive the rest of the week. After that, lectures would be over, and the following week would be dedicated to final exams. He hoped and prayed that tomorrow would be better. 

But it wasn’t. 

The following morning, Yuri checked his campus mailbox before heading into his office to prepare for lectures. He had only expected the usual department newsletters and occasional coupon books from local businesses, so when he opened the small metal compartment, he was surprised to see an unmarked string-tie manila envelope. He examined it in his hands. It was clearly paper inside, but it felt hefty. Minako had probably sent him more resources, he thought. He sighed as he unwound the string from the two buttons. He just wanted things to go back to normal.

When he pulled out the contents of the envelope, he gasped and dropped the papers. Scattered on the floor were various pornographic pictures, some of them scribbled over with violent and hateful words that chilled Yuri to the bone. The obscene images saturated his vision, and he suddenly felt lightheaded. He felt his stomach churn and his breakfast making its way back up to his throat. He swallowed hard to keep himself from vomiting. It took him a moment to recover from the shock. Once he did, he knelt down, frantically grasping at the pictures. His eyes darted from one end of the room to the other, worried that someone would walk in before he could pick everything up. His hands shook, making it impossible to get all the pictures back into the envelope. Instead, he shoved the rest in his briefcase and strode off to his office. 

Once inside, he slammed the door behind him and leaned his back on it. He slowly slid down the polished wood until he was sitting on the floor, clutching his briefcase to his chest. He could feel his heart pounding against his rib cage. He could feel his body rattle. He didn’t have time for this; he needed to get rid of the pictures. 

He got up after a few deep, shaky breaths. He emptied out the pictures from his bag and started shredding them until they were unrecognizable. He shoved the strips of paper in the trash can, covering it with crumpled up lecture notes for good measure. Just as he finished, he heard a knock. 

“Yuri? Miliy ? It’s me. Can I come in?”

Yuri was relieved to hear Victor’s voice. He got up and opened the door.

“Is everything okay?” Victor asked. “I saw you running in here.” Yuri looked exhausted. Whatever happened, it had drained him. Victor turned away from the weary man as something else caught his attention. “Yuri…who did this?” 

“What?” Yuri stepped out to see the vandalized nameplate next to his office door. His name had been scratched off and spray painted over with the word “PERVERT.”

Yuri was on the verge of tears, but he held them back. Despite everything, he still had some emotional strength left in him. 

Victor looked incensed, but seeing Yuri’s devastated expression replaced that emotion with concern. “Why don’t we go home?” he offered. “I can cancel my lectures, and we can spend the day together.”

“I—I can’t...I still have work...I should stay…”

Victor’s heart sank. All he wanted to do was make things right for him. “Miliy...please…”

Yuri looked back at the stack of worksheets that he still needed to grade and return to his students before finals. It was the last thing he wanted to do, and even if he tried, he knew he wouldn’t be productive. “Okay,” he said weakly. 

The two of them sat in the car in silence. Victor wanted to give Yuri space. As much as he wanted to pry all the information out of him, he knew Yuri well enough to know that it wouldn’t work. He needed to let him process things, and eventually, he would open up. Meanwhile, Yuri focused on the feel of Victor’s hand on his. It was warm and comforting, and he clung onto the feeling like his life depended on it. There was still a storm of emotions raging inside him. It took everything in his body to keep himself from crying. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep it together. 

When they got out of the car in the underground parking structure of Victor’s building, he broke. His chest ached and stomach felt sick. His legs gave out, and he fell to the floor and sobbed uncontrollably. Victor ran to him, embraced him, kept him close.  

“I—I can’t do it…” Yuri could barely get a sentence out. His chest was heaving hard, and his lungs were gasping for air. He collapsed into Victor’s arms completely, losing all strength to stand. 

Miliy, I’m right here, I’m right here.” Victor was now fully seated on the concrete, cradling Yuri and rocking him back and forth like a child. He could feel himself well up. He hated seeing Yuri like this. It made his heart ache. He felt so helpless, and he wished hard that whatever greater being existed in the universe would give all of Yuri’s pain and suffering to him. He would willingly carry that burden if it meant seeing Yuri happy again.

“I can’t do it…I can’t do it…I can’t...” Yuri stuttered as he took sharp inhales through his mouth. He felt like he was drowning. He felt scared. 

Yuri couldn’t remember the last time he cried like this. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt pain like this. Maybe he hadn’t. Maybe this was an entirely new level of hurt that he had never experienced before. He let himself wail into Victor’s chest, gripping his shirt and soaking it through with tears and snot. 

Victor wiped the tears that were now falling from his own eyes. He did his best to stay steady. He needed to focus on making Yuri feel better, feel safe. He didn’t need Yuri worrying about him. He knew all that, and yet, it was hard. Seeing Yuri like this broke him. He caressed Yuri’s hair and pulled him in tighter. It was all he could do.

Notes:

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I know it's heavier than what I usually write, but it's necessary for what's to come. I promise next chapter will be lighter <3

Chapter 16: Katsuki Defense Force

Summary:

The one where five idiots serve up some sweet vigilante justice.

Because I'm so THANKFUL for you all (see what I did there, U.S. friends?) here's the next chapter a week and a day early!

For those of you who decided to skip last chapter because of the trigger warning, I included a short summary below to get you caught up :) If you did read it, feel free to skip the first part of this chapter.

ALSO WHAT THE FUCK MY HEART. If you haven't already heard the news, the YOI movie PV is FINALLY out ; u; I've been yelling all morning, and I still can't get over how beautiful it is uwu. CRISP ANIMATION. PRECIOUS BABY VITYA. If you haven't seen it, do yourselves a favor and watch it.

As always, thank you for the amazing kudos and comments. I truly love it when you engage with my work. It's so unreal that people actually read this story.

Chapter Text

Previously...

Yuri met with Yakov, fully expecting to lose his job after the scathing article revealed his previous work as an erotic novelist. Fortunately, he didn't get fired. Instead, Yakov asked an HR representative to be present during the meeting to discuss the potential consequences of the article, namely the possibility of harassment. Despite hearing this news, Yuri tried to remain hopeful that things would be back to normal soon  enough. As such, he decided not to tell Victor for fear of worrying him over nothing.

Unfortunately, news of his previous career spread like wildfire, and all his worst fears began to come true. 

Meanwhile, Yuri Plisetsky decided to act and talk to the Japanese professor in person. Finding the professor unavailable, he decided to talk to Victor instead. During their conversation, Yuri told the Russian professor about the article author's identity and her motive for witting it. He also revealed (though reluctantly) his familiarity with Eros' work. 

After a terrible string of events, Yuri suffered a breakdown. Cradled in Victor's arms, he finally found the courage to tell him everything. 

_________________________________

“I’m sorry, Victor, but there’s nothing I can do.” Yakov took a sip of his black coffee as he observed the Russian professor’s growing frustration. “Even if we can prove that she wrote it, we can’t punish students for publishing articles. I agree that it was harsh, but the university doesn’t have a policy against that type of speech. If we go around punishing students for voicing their opinions, we’d be in a lot of trouble.”

Victor sighed. He paced Yakov’s office with a hand on his hip and the other rubbing his forehead. What good was this information if he couldn’t use it to help Yuri? “Fine,” he said, irked. “If you can’t do anything about the girl, then you can at least let Yuri work the rest of the semester off campus.”

After Yuri broke down in the garage last night, he told Victor everything: the truth about his meeting with Yakov, the classroom panic attack, the pornographic pictures. Victor listened in disbelief. He didn’t know it had gotten this bad, and he kicked himself for being so oblivious. He should have noticed the change in Yuri’s demeanor. He should have been there for him those past few days. But he didn’t, and he wasn’t. 

Just as Yuri had finally calmed down, he made the mistake of checking his email, which contained an onslaught of letters from families concerned about the “university’s moral judgement” and more explicit forms of hate mail from anonymous accounts. Needless to say, neither of them slept well that night.

“Victor, you know better than anyone that he can’t do that. He has classes to teach. He has to administer and proctor exams.”

“He’s hurting, Yakov. He’s in no condition to do any of that. He needs time away from the university. Please.” 

Yakov mulled the proposal over. “Fine,” he resigned. “I can arrange for someone else to proctor the exams. How many classes does he have left in the semester?”

“Just two.”

“He can cancel those classes if he wants, but he’ll have to deal with any complaints I get from students and families. You know how they can be.”

“Of course. Thank you. He really needs this.”

“I know it’s been hard on him, Victor. I know you want to help him. Everyone in the department does, but the best we can do is hope that people will forget about this whole ordeal over the summer.” 

Victor left Yakov’s office feeling useless and defeated. Was hoping for the best really the best he could do? He texted Yuri to cancel his classes and stay home for the day. He’d explain everything later when he came over. He managed to get Yuri away from campus, and at the very least, he could call that a small victory. Still, he wished he could do more. He loved him too much to do nothing. Yakov wouldn’t understand.

But, he realized, he knew a few people who just might. 

After sending out some texts and emails, Victor sat at his desk, awaiting his guests. 

“Victor!”

Bonjour !”

As Phichit and Chris walked into his office, Yuri Plisetsky and Otabek trailed behind them. 

“Everyone, come in and shut the door.”

The four of them sat in the office—Phichit and Chris on the chairs in front of Victor’s desk, Yuri and Otabek on the navy sofa in the corner.  

“So, I called you all here because we all love and care about Yuri.”

Phichit and Chris shared a confused look as their eyes shifted to the two students in the corner. 

“Umm, who are they?” Phichit asked.

“Oh, sorry. I forgot to introduce you. Chris, Phichit, this is one of my students, Yuri Plisetsky and…umm...”

“Otabek,” the boy said.

“He’s my roommate,” Yuri explained. 

“Oh my god, they were roommates,” Phichit whispered to Chris, who chuckled and smirked in response. 

“Ah, I’m guessing you’re an Eros fan too!” Victor’s eyes lit up. The more supporters he could gather, the better. Plus, after all the unwarranted criticism, Yuri would be relieved to know that students at the university enjoyed his work.

“Uh, no. Just here for moral support. He’s the fan,” Otabek said, pointing to Yuri.  

Phichit turned to the scowling blonde with a growling tiger printed on his shirt. “Wait, you’re an Eros fan?”

Yuri glared, lowering his head to cover his red face behind a curtain of hair. “What’s it to you?” 

“Nothing. You’re just not what I expected of his demographic. You don’t look like the hopeless romantic type.” 

“Leave the poor boy alone, chéri. He looks absolutely murderous,” Chris teased. 

Phichit chuckled, “He looks more like a wounded kitten than a tiger, if you ask me.”

Yuri was ready to pounce when Otabek grabbed his arm and held him back. 

“Everyone, relax. I didn’t call you here to get on each other’s nerves,” Victor interrupted. “We’re here because Yuri needs help.” He explained everything to the group, watching everyone’s expressions turn sour as he described the horrid events that had taken place in the past few days. Once they were all caught up, everyone in the room was visibly upset. Even Otabek looked bothered beneath his usual, cool expression.

“Stubborn old man,” Yuri scoffed. “It’s like he’s got a stick up his ass.” Yuri had taken one of Yakov’s literature survey classes last semester, and that was enough for him to know that the grumpy Russian man was a stickler for policy. 

“I will end her,” Phichit said, fuming. “How dare she! She can’t get away with it, not while I’m around.”

“I thought we were here to make Yuri feel better, but I think a little vengeance would be more fitting, no?” Chris added.

“I hear you,” said Victor, “but we have to be careful. She’s a student, after all. I know you all care about Yuri, but we can’t have a repeat of Barcelona.” He shot Chris a look, and the Swiss man immediately turned his head away, pretending not to notice.

“Barcelona?” Otabek asked. 

“Chris got into a fist fight with some guy at the club after he punched Victor in the face,” Phichit explained. “We go to bat for our friends.” He turned to the two students with a serious look to make sure they were all on the same page because at the end of the day, no matter the consequences, they were going to bat for Yuri. “So, what’s the plan?” 

“Hmm…” Victor didn’t have anything specific in mind when he called the four of them over. He’d never been one to hold a grudge, and he’d never been in a situation that called for revenge. “Maybe we could send her one of those glitter bombs I’ve been hearing so much about,” he suggested. “Or maybe we could cover her car in post-its!”

“I was thinking we could slash her tires or bash her headlights in, Carrie Underwood style,” Phichit said. “Maybe next time she’ll think before she fucks with my best friend.”

“You have quite the vengeful streak, don’t you, mon petit chou ?” Chris chuckled. “Oh! Maybe we could make a fake dating profile and—” 

Yuri sighed and dragged his palm over his face. He quickly realized that if he wanted anything done, he and Otabek would have to do it themselves. “Look, you want Olivia to get what she deserves, right?”

“Yeah!” The three professors cheered in unison. 

“Then we need proof that she sent him those threats. Even if that old man won’t do anything about the article, he definitely has to do something about the pictures.”

“The kid’s right,” Phichit said. “No one can argue that those don’t count as harassment.”

“But how are you so sure it was her?” Chris asked. 

“Because people like her don’t know when to stop,” Yuri said with absolute loathing.  

The professors looked at each other, persuaded by the boy’s conviction. He had a point. There was no one else on campus with the motive to do something so horrible. She had already gone through the trouble of publishing an article, so why would she stop the torment there?

“How do we catch her?” Victor asked.

“Beka and I will find a way to get into her room and—”

“Woah, hold on,” Victor interrupted. “I don’t think we should be breaking and entering. We’re getting revenge, not committing crimes.”

“Are you serious? You didn’t say anything when Carrie Underwood over here suggested slashing tires.”

“Slashing tires is only the beginning,” Phichit retorted. “I will fuck shit up for Yuri.”

“Ugh whatever.” The boy rolled his eyes. “I don’t hear any of you making good suggestions. Post-its on her car? This isn’t a middle school prank war.”

Victor looked down, embarrassed by the blatant attack. “I thought it was a good idea,” he mumbled to himself. 

“Look, you three focus on Professor Katsuki. Make sure he’s not getting any more harassing letters. Beka and I will search Olivia’s room for evidence.”

“Fine,” Victor sighed. “But if you’re going to do this, you’ll need my help.” Victor turned to his computer to access the university database.

“What are you doing?” Yuri asked. 

“Pulling up her schedule. If you’re going to break in, you need to make sure she’s not in her room, right?”

“And how are you going to figure that out?”

“We know more about our students than you think, Mr. Plisetsky.” 

“Ew, you call your students by their last names?” Phichit said. “You sound ancient.”

“Habit, I guess. Besides, it would be weird to have two Yuris, especially since one’s my student and the other’s my partner.”

“Why don’t you call him something else?” Chris suggested. 

“Hmm, Yura? Yurochka?” 

“God, no. You sound like my grandpa,” Yuri protested. 

“Just make something up.” Phichit scrutinized the boy for a second to find a name that would fit. “Like, Yurio.”

“Yurio, huh?” Victor chuckled, “Sounds good to me!” 

“It’s got a nice ring to it,” Chris added. 

“That’s not my fucking name!” Yuri objected to no avail. 

“Come on, Yurio. Even Otabek likes it, right?” Phichit motioned to the boy who had his hand inconspicuously draped over his mouth to conceal a smile. 

Yuri (henceforth known as “Yurio”) glared at him before he could even respond. “Don’t you dare.” 

Before Otabek could say anything, Victor found the information he needed. “Got it!” he said. The team put aside their petty squabble and gathered around the computer. Victor’s search returned a slew of information: biographical data, transcripts, and most importantly current class schedule.

Yurio stared at the screen, amazed. “How do you have access to this?”

“All professors do. We use it to advise students, but I suppose it has other less formal uses,” he explained. “Looks like she has classes all morning tomorrow.” 

“Perfect. Beka and I will be around.” 

“And how exactly are you going to break in?” Chris asked. 

“Beka’s great at picking locks,” Yurio said proudly. “Getting in shouldn’t be a problem.”

“What is this? Spy Kids ?” Phichit commented. 

“Impressive,” Victor lauded. “So, while you and Otabek search her room, what should we do?” 

The three professors waited eagerly for their assignments. 

Yurio shot them an irritated look. “Just stay out of our way.”

“What?” Phichit protested.

“We don’t need your help. Beka and I will be in and out of her room fast. The less people involved, the better.”

“No way! I’m not going to sit around and do nothing. Victor, say something!” 

Victor hesitated. As much as he wanted more involvement, he knew Yurio was right. They were already taking a risk, arguably—no, definitely—abusing their power as professors, to mess with a student. “He’s right,” he resigned. “If any of us get in trouble, it would only make things worse for Yuri.”

Phichit slumped down in his seat. He was annoyed, but he understood. 

“Good,” Yurio said. “I’ll let you know if Beka and I find anything tomorrow. If we do, we need to get it to Professor Feltsman before the end of the day. If we don’t, we’ll have to think of a different plan.” As Yurio and Otabek got up to leave, Victor stopped them.

“Wait! Don’t we need a team name?”

“A what?” Yurio asked. 

“A team name. Like ‘Team Yuri’ or something.”

Yurio rolled his eyes and plopped back down on the couch. It was a stupid idea, but he could tell that the other two professors bought into it. There was no escaping their combined stupidity. 

“I like that,” Phichit said, “but maybe something with more punch.” 

“Hmm, ‘Yuri’s Angels’?” Chris suggested. 

Phichit shook his head. “That only works if there are three of us.”

“What about the ‘Revengers’?” Victor offered. 

“Only if I get to be Black Widow,” Phichit said.

“Oh please,” Chris teased, “you just want to wear the outfit!” 

As they bounced names back and forth, Otabek said casually from his corner, “Katsuki Defense Force?”  

The three professors whipped their heads around.  

“What was that?” Victor asked. 

“Katsuki Defense Force,” he repeated. 

It was perfect.

“Yes!” Victor exclaimed. “Amazing! Now, everybody in,” he said as he extended his arm out with his palm facing down.

Phichit, Chris, and Otabek joined in, placing their hands on top of each other in the small huddle. They all turned to Yurio, who sighed and begrudgingly followed. 

“‘Katsuki Defense Force’ on three! One, two, three—”

All in unison, “Katsuki Defense Force!”

___________________________________

The next morning, Yurio and Otabek waited for Olivia to leave before rushing to her door. They knelt down with a small box of lock-picking tools on the floor. Unfortunately, Otabek didn’t even have time to pick one before a student came out from the bathroom with a towel around his waist, shooting the two of them a suspicious look. They tucked the box of tools in the space between them and pretended to have a casual conversation, but it was obvious to anyone that they were up to no good. Seconds later, another student came out from her dorm, quickly glancing at them before deciding not to get involved. It was too public, too risky. 

After weighing their options, the two of them made their way behind the building. If they couldn’t enter through her door, they could try her window, which faced a parking lot behind the dormitory. Fortunately, there was a thick wall of shrubbery right outside the window that made for perfect cover. As they crouched below the bushes, Yurio popped off the outer screen. The actual window was locked from the inside, but with enough wiggling, he managed to unlatch the sliding glass panel (thank god for low-quality university fixtures). 

The two of them climbed in quietly and looked around. It was a typical college dorm, decorated with boy band posters, magazine cutouts, and string lights. They split the room, each one in charge of searching one half of the space. After twenty minutes, Yurio was growing frustrated. They didn’t even know what they were looking for, but whatever it was, they weren’t finding it. He was now in Olivia’s closet, patting down her clothes like airport security for “evidence.” He felt ridiculous, and he was just about ready to call the search when he heard footsteps quickly approaching. Yurio and Otabek turned to each other and scrambled when they heard the unmistakable sound of jingling keys. They crawled under the bed fractions of a second before Olivia stepped into the room. 

“Liv, hurry up!” A voice yelled from the hallway. 

“Relax, I’m just getting a cardigan, sheesh.”

Olivia dropped her backpack by the foot of the bed as she rummaged through her closet. As the two boys held their breaths, Yurio noticed her phone peeking out of a side pocket. Without giving it a second thought, he quietly removed the device and stuffed it in his jacket. Otabek elbowed him and gave him a look that read, “what the fuck are you doing?” Yurio disregarded it. If they wanted proof, her phone was a safe bet. When the girl finally left, the two of them crawled out and continued their otherwise unfruitful search. 

Satisfied that they had left no stone unturned, the two boys crept out the window and emerged from the bushes. As they dusted off the dirt and foliage from their clothes, they noticed a group of people dressed in all-black in the far corner of the parking lot. The suspicious bunch were wreaking havoc on someone’s car. Yurio chuckled as he noticed one of them covering the windshield with colorful post-its. 

Then, it dawned on him.

“Those fucking ididots!” 

Yurio and Otabek rushed toward the trio to find Olivia’s Porsche convertible half-covered in colorful squares of paper and three of its tires taken off. 

“What the actual fuck?” 

The three professors, faces obscured by sunglasses and bandanas, turned to find the angry Russian boy looking ready to kill. 

“Oh, hey, Yurio,” Victor said nervously. “Didn’t expect to find you here.”

“Are you stupid?” Yurio responded. “Someone could catch you! What the fuck are you even doing? Stealing her tires?” 

“Calm down, she’s lucky we’re not doing any real damage,” Phichit said as he took off the last one and carried it to the pile in the corner. He slid a couple of cinder blocks under the bare metal to support the car. “I was this close to bringing my knife and keying her car, but Chris talked me out of it. I’m just detaching the tires to give her a hard time. I’m not trying to get arrested.”

“While you’re here, can you lend us a hand?” Chris asked. “We were thinking of leaving the tires in front of your building with this little note.”

Yurio snatched the piece of paper from Chris’ hand: Wheeling in justice! -Katsuki Defense Force. 

“But now that you’re here,” Chris continued, “maybe you can let us into the building, and we can leave them in front of her room!”  

Yurio rolled his eyes. If they were going to do this, he might as well make sure they didn’t do anything stupid to get caught. “Ugh, fine.”

Phichit, Chris, Otabek, and Yurio each carried one tire clandestinely across the lot and around the building. They left Victor to finish his post-it masterpiece (apparently he had a few more finishing touches to add). Yurio led the way, signaling them forward when the coast was clear. Thankfully, most students were out of the dorms during the day. When they reached the building, they took extra precaution by letting Yurio and Otabek haul the tires inside and leaving the two professors outside to keep watch. After all, two teenagers looked far less suspicious than two grown men sneaking into a college dorm. 

“If we get caught, what’s the worst that could happen?” Yurio asked as they made their way down the empty hall. 

“Hmm, suspension?” Otabek responded casually. 

“Right, well, this better be fucking worth it.” 

Once they successfully got the tires to the end of the hall, they stacked them on top of each other, leaving the note taped on top.

As the four of them walked back, they bumped into Victor, who had just gotten done with the car.

“You finished fast,” Chris said suggestively. “Not usually your style.” 

“Not usually,” Victor chucked, “but this is for Yuri, remember?”

“Ah, chéri , you are truly in love. Hopefully, with more than just his tight—”

“Can we not?” Yurio interjected. 

“Oh, sorry,” Chris chuckled. “I suppose we should probably behave in front of the students.” 

“Are you normally this shameless in your classes?” Yurio snapped back.

Chris smiled, unbothered by the brazen insult. “Oh, you wound me, little tiger.” 

“Ugh, look, I don’t give a shit what you do in your free time, but we have more important things to talk about.” Yurio pulled out Olivia’s phone from his pocket.

“You took her phone?” Phichit asked. “And you had the audacity to lecture me about stealing?” 

“I’m just borrowing it,” Yurio responded. “Besides, I don’t think Princess Olivia gives two shits about losing a phone. She’ll have daddy send another one ASAP.” He clicked on the home button, but his attempt to access the phone was thwarted by a numerical passcode. “Fuck.”

“Any ideas?” Chris asked. “Her birthday, maybe?”

Yurio shrugged. “I guess she would be the type to use her own birthday as a password. Problem is, I don’t know when that is.”

“I do,” Victor chimed in. “I can check the database.” 

The five of them walked to University Hall, and once they reached Victor’s office, they confirmed Olivia’s birth date and punched the numbers in.

“We got it!” Yurio said, jumping out of this seat to huddle with the rest of the group.

“I can’t believe that worked,” Victor said. 

“Being a self-centered asshole makes her fairly predictable,” Yurio snorted dirisively. “So, where should we start?” 

“Check her photos,” Chris suggested. “Maybe we can find the same ones that Yuri got in his mailbox.” 

“We don’t even know what they look like,” Victor said. “Yuri shredded the pictures, so I never got to see them.”

“Try her texts,” Phichit suggested. 

Yurio opened the app and skimmed a few uninteresting conversations, including a few making fun of his cheetah-print obsession. “Whatever,” he snarled. Cats were cool, and he didn’t need some spoiled brat giving him any grief about it. Finally, they came to a “bad bitches” group chat punctuated with red lipstick and devil emojis that just screamed high school mean girls. Yurio scrolled through a week’s worth of conversation, where Olivia bragged and detailed each step of her plan—the article, the pictures, the vandalism—they were all there. If she couldn’t get the university to fire Yuri, she would force him out by making his life a living hell. 

“This is it! This is everything we need!” Victor said. “We should get this to Yakov before—”

“Wait,” Phichit interrupted. “How are we going to explain how we got her phone and why we’re digging through her texts?”

The group fell silent. They hadn’t thought that far.

“Umm, we can say we found it?” Yurio offered tentatively. “For all he knows, she could have dropped it.”

“Okay, sure. That still doesn’t explain why we were looking through her messages.” 

“Why don’t we send it anonymously?” Chris suggested. “We can print out screenshots and drop it in his mailbox, then we can give the phone to the lost and found. He doesn’t need to know where the information came from; he just needs to know that Olivia did it.” 

“An envelope full of private text messages conveniently shows up in his mailbox, and you don’t think he’ll get curious?”

“That old man won’t care enough to find out,” said Yurio. “He didn’t even suggest an investigation to figure out who’s responsible for this mess. Unless the proof falls right onto his lap, he won’t bother.”

“Good point,” Phichit said. “In that case, I’m in.”

Each one of them agreed and looked to Victor for final approval. When he nodded his head, they set the plan in motion. They printed select screenshots, making sure to include messages that mentioned Olivia by name. They stuffed the sheets of paper in an unmarked envelope and assigned Phichit the task of dropping it off in the mail room as the rest of the group dispersed. It was still late morning when they finished, and by the time noon hit, Victor received an email from Yakov, asking him to come to his office. Victor texted the Katsuki Defense Force group chat to keep them in the loop. 

In the office, Yavok explained that he had received an anonymous envelope tying Olivia Clancey to the harassment Yuri had been facing over the past week. He asked Victor if he knew anything about the envelope, and Victor simply said no. Yakov didn’t question him beyond that. 

“With this information, we’ll have to take disciplinary action,” Yakov said. 

“Oh,” Victor responded, doing his best to hide the excitement in his voice. “What’s going to happen to her?” He asked, feigning concern. 

“We’ll have to hold a hearing, give her a chance to tell her side of the story. We’ll put together a neutral faculty panel to preside over it. That means you’re out of the question, and so is any professor who’s had Olivia in their classes. As for the evidence, it would help if the student who told you about Olivia came forward as a witness. It would also help if Yuri came forward with his story too.”

Victor didn’t like that idea one bit. It was hard enough having to experience harassment once. Having to relive it by testifying in a hearing would only re-traumatize him. “Does he have to appear in person?”

“It would help his case, but he can also submit a signed statement if he feels more comfortable that way.”

“Okay, I’ll talk to him.”

“Great. I’m meeting with HR in ten minutes, so we’ll probably move forward with the hearing even if we only have these text messages. We’ll also have to get Student Affairs involved. Let me know about Yuri as soon as possible.”

“Thanks, Yakov.”

After the meeting, Victor felt a sense of victory and relief. There was still a chance she could get away with it, but at least the university was doing something. As satisfying as it was messing with her car, there was only so much they could do without the administration’s support. He knew he could count on Yurio as a witness. All he needed to do now was get Yuri on board to write a statement. Finally, there was a glimmer of real hope.

__________________________________

Meanwhile, in the freshman dormitories…

Olivia finished the last of her classes and made her way to the parking lot with two fraternity boys she’d recruited to carry her books. She’d stopped by the lost and found to retrieve her phone. Thankfully, some stranger had been kind enough to return it. Not that it mattered. She could afford to buy a new one. As they entered the lot chatting about the latest campus gossip, one of the boys pointed out the ridiculous state of “some loser’s car.”

Olivia laughed along until the realization hit her like a brick wall. Her jaw dropped, along with the phone she had just recovered. The screen cracked, small shards of glass chipping and falling away as one of the boys picked it up for her. She snatched it from his hands without a thank you, fully focused on the sight before her.  

“Motherfucker!” 

She rushed over to her car, and the boys followed. Her poor Porsce rested on cinder blocks where the tires should have been, every inch of it covered in post-its. She walked around the car, mouth agape in disbelief and confusion. The little squares of paper formed a large pattern that stretched over the roof, from the windshield to the rear window. A penis. It was a giant penis formed entirely of red and neon pink post-its. She examined the car closely. Her license plate frames had been replaced by ones that had the words “I LOVE EROTICA” boldly painted on them. She opened her car to grab a small toolbox in the glove compartment. Thankfully, the interior was left untouched. Unfortunately, when she tried to unscrew the frames, she found that they had been securely glued on. She would have to pry them off, risking damage to her car. Her face burned red. She had ceased being shocked and was now absolutely pissed.

“Don’t just stand there! Make yourselves useful and get this shit off my car!” she barked. 

The two boys followed orders, taking apart the phallic image piece by piece. Beneath all the post-its, however, they discovered that the car windows had been painted over with phrases like “honk if you like smut” and “Eros’ #1 fan,” along with smaller penises painted daintily in a pattern surrounding the words.  

She was livid. Her chest heaved and her face contorted into the nastiest expression.

Sensing that Olivia was about to blow, one of the boys took a shot at offering some consolation. “Umm, if it makes you feel any better, I think the paint is washable?”

He soon regretted that statement as Olivia shot him an icy glare that forced him to take a step back and hide behind the other boy.

“Why on earth do you think that would make me feel better? Are you an idiot? Are you blind? Do you see my fucking car?” Olivia took a deep breath and screeched at the top of her lungs. A few students peered out from their windows as the girl threw a fit in the middle of the lot. She tore away the rest of the post-its and used her cashmere cardigan to furiously scrub off the paint, only to make things worse and smear it all over the windows.

The two boys didn’t know what to do. They shared a look, fully understanding each other’s discomfort. Without saying a word, they both set down Olivia’s books on the asphalt and slowly backed away unnoticed in the midst of the girl’s hysterics. 

As the boys ran, they zoomed past Yurio and Otabek, who were making their way to Otabek’s motorcycle. The two had just received a text from Victor confirming their plan’s success and were going off campus for a celebratory lunch. They took a few more steps before they could figure out what was happening. By then, Olivia had spotted them.

You,” she hissed with venom in her voice. “You fucking did this!” 

The two of them froze as if she had caught them red-handed. Yurio cursed the three professors in his head knowing that he would have to deal with the fallout from their silly prank. Olivia started toward them with murderous intent in her eyes. They two boys looked at each other before deciding to make a run for it. Olivia gave chase, sprinting across the lot with arms flailing. 

“Come back here, you piece of shit! You son of a—” 

She tripped on her own feet and landed face first on the hard ground. The boys looked back, stopping to consider whether they should help, but the thought didn’t last. Whatever rage Olivia was feeling, it was enough to divert her attention from what must have been a painful fall. She got up almost immediately, knees scraped and nose bleeding. She didn’t even spare a second before she continued her pursuit. The boys ran faster until they reached Otabek’s bike. They hopped on and revved up the engine just as Olivia caught up to them. She grabbed onto Yurio’s shirt, but she couldn’t keep her grip on it as the motorcycle started. The force was enough to pull her forward, once again introducing her face to rough asphalt. 

“Ouch, that’s gotta hurt!” Yurio said over the loud engine and wind whirring past him. He almost felt sorry for her before he remembered what she did. As terrible as it sounded, he couldn’t help but think that she got exactly what she deserved. Otabek must have been thinking the same thing because Yurio could feel his torso bouncing in laughter through his arms that were wrapped securely around the boy.

This was only the beginning. Soon, Olivia would have to face greater consequences, and that thought put a smug little smile on Yurio’s face. Vengeance would be sweet, and even though they didn’t know it yet, it would also be swift. 

After Olivia rose and dusted herself off, she stormed back to her room, face red with anger and humiliation as people continued to watch and snicker from their windows. She fished her phone out of her pocket to distract herself only to find an email from Student Affairs. 

URGENT - Notice of Disciplinary Hearing - Clancy, Olivia, Case #69420

Chapter 17: When the Universe Speaks

Summary:

The one where Victor makes a decision.

To those of you who celebrate, Merry Christmas! To all others, happy holidays~
And to the whole YOI fandom, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, VITYA!

I had lots of thoughts writing this chapter, so see end notes :)

Next chapter will be sometime in January, though I'm not sure when since the holiday season's been busy for me. Thank you all for your support. Your engagement with this story is the best gift ; u;

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

After his meeting with Yakov, Victor didn’t think his Friday could get any better. That is, until he opened his inbox to find an email letting him know that the university was moving forward with the hearing next week before the students left for winter break. After his last lecture, he made his way to Yuri’s apartment, feeling lighter knowing that Yuri would get some closure from all the undeserved madness. He practically skipped down the hallway, body filled with hope and glee at the prospect of getting justice for his partner. He burst through the doorway with a giant grin.

“Welcome home,” said Yuri, curled up on the couch with Makka and a novel from Victor’s vast collection. “How was your day?”

Victor rushed over, greeting him with a quick peck before goading Makka off the couch and taking a seat next to him. “Great! I have some good news for you,” he responded. 

“Oh?” Yuri couldn’t help but return an inquisitive smile. He sat up straighter. He could certainly use some good news after the week he’d had. 

“We got her,” Victor said almost proudly. “We know who’s behind the article and the pictures.”

Yuri’s eyes widened. After everything he’d been through, that question had long since slipped his mind. “Who?”

“Olivia Clancy. Sound familiar?”

The name did ring a bell, but he couldn’t immediately put a face to it. Then, he remembered. “Oh,” he said. Yuri’s students were mostly kind and pleasant, except for the occasional faceless name on the roster that only showed up on the day of the final exam. Olivia wasn’t one of those. She was, by far, the worst student he’d ever had the misfortune of teaching. Disruptive, rude, entitled. She was all that and more. “I remember her. I had her last semester. She barely did any work. I think she only showed up for half the classes.”

“Hmm, sounds about right.” Victor didn’t know the girl personally, but if Yurio’s description was anything to go by, then she sounded like a nightmare.  

“So, how did you find out?”

“Uh, long story,” Victor responded, unsure how exactly he could rationalize all the questionable things he had done, or how he had managed to recruit two students to do his bidding. “All you need to know is that the university’s going to hold a hearing. There’s no guarantee, but it would help if you could write a statement about everything that’s happened.”

“I—I don’t know, Victor…I don’t think it’s worth it...”

Victor inched forward and took Yuri’s hand. “I know it’s scary, and I know you just want this whole thing to go away, but what she did to you was completely out of line.”

“I know...it’s just...that’s not the problem…”

“Oh.” Victor didn’t have the faintest clue what other problems there could be. Wasn’t this what Yuri wanted? “Well, what is it then?” 

“I...umm…” Yuri took a deep breath, tightening his grip on Victor’s hands and looking him in the eye. “I’m leaving.” 

“What? What do you mean you’re leaving?” 

“I quit. I told Yakov earlier this morning. I won’t be coming back next school year.”

Victor was shocked. After all he and the others had done, Yuri leaving was the last thing they expected. “But why? I know it’s hard right now, but it’ll be over soon. Besides, you have me, Chris, and Phichit. We’ll always be there for you.”

“I know that,” Yuri smiled weakly. “And I can’t even begin to thank you for it, but I can’t go back. Just because one girl started this whole mess, doesn’t mean she’s the only one taking part in it. You can’t stop the whole campus, Victor. You can try, and I know you would, but it’s impossible.” 

He was right, of course. Olivia was the instigator, but hundreds more were complicit as silent bystanders or as active participants. Would punishing one person be enough? There could be backlash. Angry friends and family. Accusations. More suffering for Yuri to endure. Victor didn’t know what to say, but he nodded, understanding that he had underestimated the complexity of the situation.

“This wasn’t a rash decision,” Yuri assured. “Leaving the university has been on my mind this entire week, ever since I thought I was going to be fired.” 

“But you didn’t get fired. You’re here, you’re—” Victor was ready to protest further, but he saw Yuri’s unwavering, determined expression and recognized that this decision was final. He looked down, saddened that he would no longer get to work alongside him. The university and the department would feel completely alien to him, but he knew he couldn’t change his mind, nor did he want to if keeping him there would subject him to more harassment. “So, what are you going to do?” He asked. Suddenly, a ray of hope shot through him. “Wait, are you going to start writing again?” Now that Yuri was out of a job, it was only natural, he thought. Maybe this was a blessing in disguise. 

“No, I’m not.” Yuri looked away knowing that Victor would be visibly crushed. “I’m applying for another adjunct position.” Yuri pulled something out from his briefcase on the floor. “Yakov recommended me to this university,” he said, handing him a brochure. It was for an eastern literature program. Had the circumstances been different, Victor would have thought it perfect for Yuri. “He called them, and they’re expecting my CV today.” 

“Yuri…” Victor stared at the pamphlet in disbelief. “This university’s all the way in Detroit…” 

Yuri didn’t respond. He knew.

“I—I just...I don’t know what to say…” Victor looked up at Yuri, who appeared just as devastated as he was. The Japanese man forced a smile, but Victor couldn’t do the same. Yuri had once again made a selfish decision without consulting him. Yuri didn’t need his permission for anything, but he would have liked to know, especially when it came to matters that impacted their relationship. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Yuri met his wounded gaze, and he felt a pang in his heart. “I’m sorry. I got desperate. This felt like my only chance...” 

“But it’s not!” Victor insisted. “You can write, Yuri. I know you said you don’t want to, but if you’re going to leave GPU, you should at least consider it.”

“I can’t, Victor. I’ve moved on from that.”

“Fine, whatever, but...why Detroit? There are closer universities, better universities…” Victor’s chest tightened, and his voice cracked under the crushing weight of his emotions. “Why would you choose to leave everything...leave me…”

Yuri turned away, unable to bear the sight of his partner’s pained expression. “This isn’t about you, Victor.” 

Victor pulled away, taken aback by the cold statement. He stood up and walked a few steps from the couch, enough distance to change the mood in the room completely. “You’re right.” He turned to Yuri with arms crossed. “This isn’t about me, but it sure as hell affects me,” he said, voice heavy with hurt and frustration. He was frustrated at Yuri for obvious reasons, and he was frustrated at himself for his lack of control. As much as he wanted to have a rational discussion, his anger got the better of him.

Yuri rose from the couch. “Victor, try to understand,” he implored. “I can apply to closer universities, but this is my best shot.” 

“But—”

“—It is,” Yuri interjected. “And you know it.” He stared at Victor with a look that he had never seen before. It wasn’t determination this time; it was defiance. Yuri refused to hear him. He was set on this. Yet, somehow, his words still felt contrived, as if he were trying to convince himself of it too. 

Victor didn’t say anything. He was truly at a loss for words. He couldn’t even process what he was feeling, much less vocalize it. 

Worried that his tone had sent the wrong message, Yuri stepped closer until he could cup Victor’s face in his hands. “Look,” he said, voice sympathetic. “I don’t want us to be apart for too long either. Once I have more teaching experience under my belt, I’ll have better chances at closer universities. Detroit isn’t that far anyway. I can fly over during holidays, maybe even some weekends if I can swing it. It’ll be hard, I know, but we can make this work.” 

Victor couldn’t tell whether Yuri seriously believed it or was merely grasping at straws. Even if they did try to make it work, neither of them knew how long they could endure a potentially endless long-distance relationship. Victor had no doubt that his feelings for Yuri wouldn’t change no matter how far apart they were, but being in a committed relationship was already new to him, and the added stress of being apart was terrifying. 

“Vitya,” Yuri said softly. “Try. For me.” Before Victor could say another word, Yuri combed his fingers gently through the soft strands of Victor's hair and closed the gap between them, lips lingering in the tension before pressing together.

It took Victor a moment to process the unexpected intimacy. He kept his eyes open, watching his partner for a moment before surrendering to the kiss. 

It was clear that neither of them wanted to continue the conversation. Yuri had made up his mind about leaving, and Victor had lost all the fight in him. 

They spent a few minutes kissing lazily in the middle of the living room. They moved slowly with their closed eyes and tired hearts, letting the tension fade into the growing darkness that enveloped them as the sun began to set outside their window. 

They pulled away, keeping their foreheads together. Yuri opened his eyes to the deep purple that had colored the room. Victor still had his eyes closed, but the wrinkles between his brows and the downward curve that tugged the corners of his mouth spoke volumes about the hurt and sadness he felt.

The guilt made Yuri’s chest ache. He was ready to stop what they were doing and call it a night, but before he could say anything, Victor grabbed the nape of his neck and pulled him in for a deeper kiss.

It took Yuri by surprise. He just let himself be kissed for a few seconds before kissing back. 

It felt strange being with each other like this. Neither of them acted with desire. Neither of them wanted this. But it wasn’t void of love, of course not. They loved each other unconditionally, and that was a truth that neither of them could deny. Still, it felt wrong. Perhaps because their hearts were distant and weary. Perhaps because neither of them had processed their emotions properly before burying them with physical pleasures. 

Nevertheless, they pressed on, endeavoring to keep up the illusion that they were okay and would continue to be okay. They grew desperate with each tick of the clock. The passing of time reminded them that the future was inevitable. Change was inevitable. But that didn’t stop them from trying. They would cement themselves in this room, in each other’s arms, for as long as they needed and until they felt ready to finally face the reality of this decision. 

Yuri moved them forward until Victor fell back on the couch. Victor sat up and leaned back as Yuri straddled him and helped him out of his collared shirt. He returned the favor, pulling Yuri’s shirt over his head and tossing it on the floor. Yuri scattered kisses all over his pale neck and ground their hips together. Victor threw his head back, letting Yuri ravish him as he pleased, begging himself to stay present.

Unfortunately, while his body reacted as it normally did, his mind couldn’t help but wander to those intrusive thoughts. Truthfully, he felt conflicted. On one hand, he wanted to keep Yuri close. On the other, he understood that sometimes work needed to come before relationships. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony.

“What’s so funny?” Yuri asked, pulling away, hoping to find some levity in the undeniable gloom that clung to them like heavy smoke. But Victor wasn’t laughing. Even with a strained and crooked smile on his face, he looked just about ready to burst into tears. “Victor?”

“It’s nothing,” he said dismissively, hoisting Yuri up by his thighs and rising from the couch. He carried him across the room and pushed him against the wall, all while keeping his mouth too occupied to inquire further.

Before meeting Yuri, he’d stood firm on that “career first” idea, but he’d never been on the other side of it. He’d never known just how truly, profoundly shitty it felt to be disregarded. 

Of course, Victor knew Yuri wasn’t doing that, at least not purposefully. Yuri was merely searching for an opportunity for a fresh start, and misfortune happened to place that opportunity thousands of miles away. Nevertheless, it hurt that he didn’t at least talk to him first. The harder he tried to push the feeling aside, the more it resisted, resurfacing and carrying with it more bitterness. 

Victor grabbed Yuri’s wrists and pinned them above his head as he moved down his neck, marking his skin without any concern for discretion. 

Yuri gasped at the sharp sensation as Victor bit hard at the sensitive skin on his shoulder. The line between pain and pleasure felt especially fine that night. He surrendered himself, moving languidly under the Russian man’s increasingly aggressive touch. 

It was unlike Victor to be so rough outside of their usual games, but Yuri understood. Victor was upset, and he had a right to be. By running away, Yuri was only thinking of himself. For a second, he even thought that maybe that he deserved some retribution for his selfishness and weakness, that he deserved worse, but he quickly discarded the thought, remembering that this was Victor, and even if Yuri asked, he would never think of hurting him like that. Whatever they do tonight it would simply be a means to an end—a way for their bodies to communicate when words fall short, a way to feel anything other than the muddled mess of emotions that raged inside them. 

Victor undid his pants and pulled them down to his thighs. He did the same with Yuri, turning him around once his ass was fully exposed. He moved with a sense of urgency but without any discernible purpose. The hurt and anger seeped into his muscles and bones, animating his body and possessing it to act despite his better judgment. He twisted Yuri’s arm behind his back and held it firm at the wrist. He used his other hand to pull Yuri’s head back by his neck. 

“Ah, Victor...wait…” Yuri choked out. 

But Victor wasn’t listening. He couldn’t hear anything apart from his own shallow breaths and the heavy thumping of his heart. 

He rubbed himself between Yuri’s thighs, massaging himself harder against them. He pressed his chest against Yuri’s back, inhaling the familiar scent of his hair. He nuzzled his face further into the soft strands. That moment of comfort brought him back to his senses. 

“Victor…you’re hurting my hand…”

Victor blinked rapidly, as if regaining consciousness or returning from some lucid dream. He pulled away and saw the bright red marks that marred his partner’s neck. He looked down, noticing how hard he’d been gripping Yuri’s wrist.  

Suddenly, he felt a rush of guilt wash over him. He let go, letting his arms fall lifelessly by his sides. 

Yuri looked back over his shoulder. “Victor?” Hearing only the sound of rustling clothes, he turned around. The Russian man was hastily getting dressed. Yuri called out again, but he wasn’t listening. Yuri pulled up his own pants and walked toward him. He placed his hands on his shoulders and shook him slightly. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Victor backed away from his touch. “I’m sorry, Yuri...I—I don’t know what came over me,” he said, refusing to look him in the eye. Yuri walked toward him, but he took another step back, feeling uneasy about their proximity. 

Yuri’s heart sank upon seeing the look of utter shame in Victor’s face. “It’s oka—”

“—No,” Victor interjected firmly. “It’s not.” 

They stood still in the darkness, only the moonlight illuminating their tired and defeated faces.

“I’m sorry…” No matter how many times he apologized, he couldn’t get rid of the wretched feeling. 

“Victor, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Yuri assured. “You stopped when I told you to...and I know you...I know you weren’t trying to hurt me.” 

“Of course not, Yuri, I would never. It’s just…” 

“What?”

“I don’t know. I don’t feel like myself right now. I think I need...” Victor hesitated. He didn’t know what he needed. He needed Yuri to stay, but he needed to let Yuri make his own decisions about his career. He needed to keep fighting, but he needed to let go. “I think...I need some space...some time to think…” 

Yuri nodded. “Right, of course,” he responded, voice thick with disappointment. He knew Victor wouldn’t be thrilled about him leaving, but part of him hoped that he would at least pretend to be happy for him. He hadn’t expected things to go the way they did. 

Victor moved slowly and cautiously toward Yuri. He stroked his thumb across his cheek and kissed his forehead with extra care and gentleness. “I’m sorry,” he said one last time. 

Yuri appreciated his efforts, but he knew Victor’s roughness wasn’t the real problem. Victor knew it too, though the guilt he felt from it would consume his thoughts for the rest of the night. The real problem would take more than just sweet gestures to fix, and neither of them knew how. 

Yuri walked Victor to the door. He looked up and gave a weak smile, and they parted in silence. 

__________________________

When morning arrived, Yuri’s whole body felt like lead. Emotionally, he felt the same way too. He couldn’t find the motivation to get up. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this horrible in the morning. Maybe it was on his birthday, after his last big fight with Victor. Phichit had been there to get him out of the house, but he wasn’t there today to keep his best friend from wallowing in misery. 

Yuri was ready to stay in bed all day, but his phone had other ideas. At first, he ignored the consistent shrieking of his ringtone (which, after that morning, he would have to change to something less ear-splitting), but it continued to disturb his pity party in the covers and forced him out of bed. He groaned as he rolled off the mattress. He walked to the dresser and picked up the phone without checking the caller ID. 

“Hello?” Yuri answered, curt and obviously annoyed.

“Yuri, I’m glad I reached you.” 

Yuri instantly recognized the voice on the other end. “Oh, Celestino, hey.” 

“How are you doing?”

“Good,” he said unconvincingly. 

“I, umm, well, I wanted to apologize.” 

“For what?” Yuri asked, even though he had a good idea what this call was all about. 

“About what I said in that article, the one from your university.”

“So you’ve heard, huh? Bad news travels fast.”

“Yeah, I got an earful from Phichit about it.”

Yuri chuckled. Typical Phichit.  

“Anyway, I wanted to let you know that it wasn’t my intention to embarrass you like that. I got a call a few weeks ago. It was someone from your university. She said she was one of your students, and she was writing an article about you. She was gushing about you, how you inspired her, how she loved your work. I—I didn’t know she would write something so…” Celestino paused, unable to find the right words to describe the article, “...scathing,” he settled. “I didn’t give out any more than what I thought she needed to write something compelling. Everyone loves an underdog, you know, and—” .

“—Celestino,” Yuri interrupted, “it’s fine, I’m okay, really.”

“You didn’t let me finish,” he continued. “I agreed to the interview because I was really hoping that hearing a student praise your work would get you thinking about writing again, but when you told me you were done for good, I gave up on the idea.”

Not this again , Yuri thought. Last night was still fresh in his mind, and he didn’t have the mental energy to deal with another person telling him what to do with his life. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m doing well for myself even without Eros in the picture. I’m starting at a new university, actually,” he boasted, even though he’d just submitted his application yesterday. “They had the perfect literature program for me, and I couldn’t pass it up!” 

Unfortunately, Yuri wasn’t good at faking his emotions. His performative arrogance and excitement reeked of doubt, regret even. Even Celestino, who was often oblivious to the complexities of Yuri’s feelings, could sense the bullshit over the phone. 

“Oh, nice,” Celestino played along. He was certain Yuri’s sudden change of plans had more to do with the article than his “perfect” program. “Well, I’m happy to hear it, Yuri.” 

“Thanks.” 

“I hope you’re making the right choice,” he said, making his own opinion on the matter abundantly clear.

“I am,” Yuri assured. 

Celestino sighed, “I know it’s not my place, but I will say one thing. It’s always easier to act out of fear. Usually it’s the safer choice, but it’s hardly ever the best one.”

There was a short pause as the static hummed in Yuri’s ear. He didn’t know how to respond, but he didn’t have to. Celestino hung up the phone before he had a chance.

What was that about? The call felt like one from his dad rather than his former editor. Who was Celestino to give him life advice? He’d never pushed him before, even during his lowest lows as a writer, so it didn’t make sense to Yuri why he’d start now. It was probably the guilt talking, he thought. 

Yuri put down his phone and once again collapsed onto the plush mattress. He buried himself in the sheets, as one does when he wished the world around him would disappear. It seemed like the universe was intent on pulling him back. Everyone seemed to doubt his decision. He already had enough self-doubt as it was; he didn’t need the burden of anyone else’s. But it didn’t matter. He had no intention of listening, everyone and the universe be damned. 

Trying to get writing out of his head, his thoughts drifted to the hearing. Victor must have jumped through plenty of hoops to get the university involved. If he were in Victor shoes, he wouldn’t even know where to begin. He certainly wouldn’t have volunteered to take it to administration. He probably would have panicked and hid away.

Isn’t that exactly what I’m doing now?

Reflecting a little harder on his life, he realized that he had never fought for himself. He’d always had other people do the fighting for him: his big sister Mari when he was a kid, Celestino during contract negotiations with his publisher, Phichit when he started university, and now Victor for what he thought and hoped would be the rest of his life. If he was moving to a new university, a new city where he didn’t know a single soul, maybe he needed to stick up for himself more. Maybe writing the statement would be a good start. 

“Yeah,” he said to himself. “I think I’ll do just that.” 

Yuri looked over at his desk, which seemed miles away from where he was practically mummified in his sheets. Even with a task in mind, he couldn't pry his body off the comfortable bed. “Ugh,” he sighed. “Maybe I’ll call Phichit first.” 

____________________________

The following Monday, Victor busied himself with work from sunup to sundown. He needed it after a weekend mired in his own negative thoughts and turbulent emotions. He and Yuri spent the weekend alone at their own places, something they hadn’t done since before Barcelona. They barely spoke, except for the occasional “hope you had a good day” text. All of sudden, Victor hated the spaciousness of his condo. 

Did it always feel this empty? He knew the answer. 

He was upset but mostly hurt. Yuri was set on his decision, and with Yakov’s recommendation, he would probably be on a plane to Detroit soon. He stayed in his office all day, mind occasionally wandering to the empty office next door, which would soon be occupied by someone else. He would have remained glued to his seat all night if it hadn’t been for Mila and Georgi, who passed by his office on their way out and insisted on drinks after seeing his glum expression. 

As was often the case between the old friends, one drink turned into three or four, and by the time they left the bar, it was nearly midnight. Victor waved goodbye to his companions and walked back to the university to pick up some paperwork he’d forgotten on his desk. The university was quiet, except for the faint sound of chatter and music coming from the open windows of student housing nearby. University Hall was empty, and the hollow, isolated sound of his footsteps echoing through the enormous building made him feel oddly lonely. 

Without any real distractions, his lightly buzzed brain thought about Yuri. This sucks. This fight was different from their last one. This was less explosive, but somehow, it felt just as serious. The solution was also less obvious. Neither of them were at fault. Victor couldn't explain himself or apologize like he’d done before, and he couldn’t blame Yuri for trying to find a safer space. There was nothing to fix, not really. Sure, Victor could just accept that Yuri was moving (and he would have to if that’s what Yuri ultimately decided), but even if he did, his words would be empty. He didn’t want to be the kind of man who kept his partner from pursuing his career, but he knew Yuri wanted to write. Teaching wasn’t his endgame, even if Yuri had convinced himself of it. He wasn’t happy, and while moving to a new institution would get him away from the harassment, it wouldn’t fix that core problem. 

Victor’s thoughts raced through his head until he noticed a light coming from Phichit’s office that filtered through the glass doors of the Theater Department as he passed by.

What’s he doing here so late? 

He stopped. He likely wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight, so instead of sitting at home alone with his demons, maybe talking it out with Phichit would help.

He walked into the department. The office was quiet, and the door was slightly ajar. He’s probably buried in work , or at least he assumed since he couldn’t think of any other reason why he was still here past midnight. He knocked on the frame and peered in. 

“Phichit?” 

As he let himself in, he immediately knew that he had come across something he shouldn’t have. He cleared his throat loudly to make his presence known. 

When the two men noticed, they immediately pulled themselves away from each other and what was very clearly a passionate kiss.

“Oh fu—uh, umm...” Phichit looked down, purposefully avoiding eye contact. 

His companion on the other hand was familiar enough with Victor to feel completely undaunted and unflustered by the intrusion. “Must we always catch each other at the most inopportune moments, Chéri ?” 

Victor chucked. “I guess we’re even.”

Chris responded incredulously, “Hmm, I don’t know. It’s not like you walked in on me getting my dick sucked under the desk.” 

“Touché.” 

“I’m so glad this isn’t uncomfortable at all for either of you,” Phichit remarked sarcastically. 

“It’s just Victor,” Chris reassured. 

“He’s right. You two have more dirt on me than I would even care to find out. Believe me, there’s no judgment here. So,” he said with a raised brow and the most devious smirk on his face, “how long has this been going on?” He gestured vaguely between the two men. 

The theater professor’s looked at each other, waiting for the green light to discuss their clandestine relationship. They both shrugged. 

“Hmm, since Barcelona,” Chris said.

“Interesting. So, that whole ‘fear of missing out’ excuse was just a cover-up?”

“No,” Phichit answered, “that much was true. We just left out the part about us getting drunk on the plane and playing a very scandalous game of truth or dare.” 

“Yes, did you know that it’s been Phichit’s dream to become part of the mile high club?” Chris said suggestively.

Victor’s jaw dropped. “You didn’t.” 

“Oh yes, we did,” Phichit affirmed.

Victor couldn’t help but laugh and smile. He wondered how he hadn’t seen it coming. Looking back, the two were perfect for each other. 

“Well, as much as I’d love to stay and chat, I assume you’re here for him.” Chris nodded toward Phichit. “I should be going.” 

After the Swiss man bid them adieu, Phichit took a seat at his desk. 

“You and Chris, huh?” Victor asked.

“Does that surprise you?” 

“It did for a second, but honestly, it makes sense.” 

Phichit chuckled. “We’re a good match I think. We’re on the same level of extra. We can handle each other.” 

Victor nodded. He agreed completely. “So, is this an official thing? Should I expect a Facebook notification soon?” He teased. 

“Hmm, we’re feeling things out right now. Neither of us really want anything exclusive, and we’re in no rush to put a label on it.” He paused as the Russian man nodded in understanding. “Well, we can keep talking about me and Chris, but I’m assuming you didn’t wander into my office at this ungodly hour for that.”

Victor shook his head as his expression turned somber. While the news of his friends’ relationship provided a welcome break from his thoughts, he needed to get Phichit’s input. He took a seat on the chair opposite the professor’s desk and asked, “Has Yuri told you yet?”

Phichit sighed and nodded. Of course, Yuri had told him. He’d been keeping him company all weekend, watching movies and doing everything to keep his mind off his fight with Victor. He walked next door after getting Yuri’s call only to find the man half-naked under the sheets with curtains drawn. He had to physically drag him out of bed and nag him to brush his teeth. After some lunch, Yuri told him everything.

Phichit was sad, of course. The longest he’d been away from Yuri since college was during his year directing a show in Thailand. This was different. Yuri was moving halfway across the country, potentially for good. Nevertheless, he knew Yuri had gotten enough grief from Victor, who was understandably upset, so he didn’t argue. “I’ll miss you,” he settled on saying. 

“I’m at a total loss.” Victor sank into the chair and buried his face in his palms. “I don’t know what more I can do. I get that he doesn’t want to stay here; I wouldn’t either after being bullied like that, but I don’t understand why he insists on moving away. I don’t understand why he refuses to write again.”

Phichit gave Victor a sympathetic look. Yuri was indecisive by nature, and on the few occasions he decided to be stubborn, it was often about the wrong thing. Phichit was terribly familiar with this flaw, and he had been in enough fights with the man to understand a bit of what Victor was feeling. 

“What would you do?” Victor asked, desperate for any advice. 

Phichit shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said earnestly. His connection with Yuri was deep and special, but Victor’s connection with Yuri was in a league of its own. Victor moved Yuri in ways that nobody else could, not even him. If Victor didn’t have an answer, then he sure as hell didn’t. “If anyone can inspire him to make a comeback, it’s you.”

“I wish you were right about that. It’s not like I haven’t been trying. I’ve done everything I can—I’ve edited his work, praised him, challenged him, encouraged him—I’m running out of ideas.” Victor slumped down, defeated. 

“Yuri’s used to people doing that for him. You think I haven’t tried every possible angle to get him to start writing again?” Phichit left his side of the table and took a seat on the chair next to Victor. “You need to surprise him. You know him best, well, second only to me, of course,” he said with a cheeky smile. “Besides, you’re a writer. You know better than anyone that sometimes, all it takes is the right plot twist.” 

Victor looked up with a suspicious expression. “You just pulled that out of your ass, didn’t you?”

“Yup, and it’s the best I’ve got!” 

Victor smiled. “Thanks for your two cents. Literally. That advice was worth two cents,” he chuckled. 

Phichit shrugged. “Take it or leave it, buddy.” 

“Fine, fine, but you know it’s bad when the two of us combined can’t come up with anything.”

“I know. Not much we can do when he gets like this. He seems even worse this time around. I don’t know what it is, but he’s set on leaving. I know being on campus isn’t good for him, but I thought the hearing would at least give him some peace of mind.” 

Victor nodded. He thought the same thing too. 

“Anyway, I’m at least glad he agreed to write the statement.” 

Victor’s head shot up. “He—he did?” 

“Yeah. Sorry, I didn’t tell you. I thought you knew.” Phichit took out an envelope from his drawer. After Yuri told him about his decision to write the statement, Phichit made sure he finished it before heading home just in case he changed his mind. Just because he was leaving the university, didn’t mean Olivia was off the hook. “He asked me to hand it to Yakov before the hearing on Thursday.”

Victor looked relieved. “That’s great. He made it seem like he didn’t want any part of it.” 

“Yuri’s pretty easy to read most of the time, but when he isn’t, he’s a real enigma. What’s important is we have his side of the story.”

“You’re right. We should take all the wins we can get right now.” 

“Katsuki Defense Force,” Phichit chuckled. “We have our work cut out for us.”

______________________________

On the other side of campus, Yurio had practically been living in the dance studio since the weekend. He, Otabek, and the other dance majors were busy rehearsing for their final performances and choreographing pieces for each of their classes. He often stayed past midnight, only to drag his sore body to the library for another hour or so of work for his other major. He’d been studying in the same corner by a large window with his headphones, snacks, and pre-packed meals. Otabek was also suffering through the same intense study period, but he often retired to their dorm earlier. 

That night, Yurio decided to skip the library after a grueling day of ballet. Instead, he walked to University Hall to pick up a package in the student mailroom. Nothing sounded more rewarding for his bruised feet than opening a new pair of fuzzy cheetah-print house slippers. As he approached the building, he noticed the unmistakable silver hair glistening in the moonlight.  

“Yurio!” The figure called out when he noticed the student approaching. 

“I didn’t know professors worked this late,” he remarked. “Unless, don’t tell me, you’re up to more of your reckless pranks. That shit you pulled almost got me and Beka killed.”

Victor chuckled, recalling the furious texts Yurio had sent the group chat after his parking lot chase. “On my best behavior, I promise.” 

“Tch, right,” the boy scoffed. “So, why are you still here?”

“I was talking to Phichit actually. Yuri decided to write the statement for the hearing.”

“Thank god. I thought it was going to be my word against Olivia’s. That would’ve been a fucking nightmare.” Yurio was aware how his attitude came across to other people, and he didn’t care to hide it. Olivia, on the other hand, could be as fake as she wanted to be. He was certain she would put on a perfectly convincing good-girl act in front of the panel. Even he couldn’t deny how charming the girl could be when she was kissing ass. Between the two of them, Yurio would be screwed. “So, how’s he feeling about the hearing? Relieved, I’m guessing.” 

Victor sighed, “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “Not that it matters. He quit.” 

“He what?” 

“He quit,” Victor repeated. “He’s leaving the university.”

Yurio shook his head and blinked a few times, unable to process the news. “So, does that mean he’ll go back to writing?”

“No,” Victor replied. “He applied to teach somewhere else, and if he gets the job, he’s moving to Detroit.”

“What? What the hell are we doing then? Wasn’t the whole point of this hearing to—”

“—Listen...” The gravity in Victor’s voice stunned him silent. “It’s been a rough few days. Yuri and I have talked about this, and at this point, I don’t think there’s much I can do, so let’s just drop it.” 

The defeated look on the professor’s face pissed Yurio off. After rallying everyone together, after all the trouble they’d been through, he was giving up. Yurio had a million questions and just as many thoughts, but if Professor Nikiforov didn’t want to hear it, then he had no reason to keep standing there like a damn fool waiting to be dismissed. “Some example you are,” the boy scoffed as he walked past the professor. “You’ve already stopped trying.” 

Victor was taken aback by the comment, but as he turned to give the boy a piece of his mind, he’d already disappeared into the building. 

As he drove home, the remark gnawed at him. He thought himself accustomed to Yurio’s rough (and in this case downright rude) personality, but maybe he thought wrong. 

Even as he sank into his bed, he couldn't help but wonder what Yurio meant by it. What he said was hardly fair. He expected too much of Victor, and he didn’t give him enough credit. Victor had already done what he could. Even Phichit who’d known Yuri for years was out of ideas. 

Some example you are.

He begged himself to fall asleep, but the more he forced his eyes shut, that more his mind resisted. His tired body rolled on its side and stared at the green glow of the digital clock. It was already 3 a.m. He sighed, resigning himself to the sleepless night ahead. 

“Example, huh?” he repeated the word. 

As the minutes ticked by, Victor grew tired of lying awake in bed. Instead, he did what he knew would grant him some peace. 

He grabbed his reading glasses and picked a novel from the stack of books by his bed. He settled on the corner of his couch with a throw blanket to replace the usual warmth of the large poodle who was happily dreaming in the other room. 

After about fifteen minutes, Victor could feel himself being pulled into the fictional world. Literature had always been the cornerstone of his life, and for good reason. His books had been there for him in his darkest hour. Even novels he’d read hundreds of times would reveal some secret wisdom he’d never come across before, either from his own re-read or from a thoughtful student’s analysis. Sometimes he’d take a random book and open it up to a random page, surprised to stumble upon just the passage he needed for guidance or inspiration. He called these magical moments “the serendipity of the book,” and he desperately needed it that night. 

He let out a big yawn. The novel had effectively slowed down his thoughts, and his mind felt more keen on the idea of sleep. He doubted whether he would even make it to bed. The warm and comfortable couch tempted him to stay, and he didn’t have the energy to refuse. As he lay his head back on the cushion and closed his eyes, he felt a great sense of gratitude toward the one thing that had remained steady and reliable in his life. 

This feeling continued and weaved itself through his dreams, where he had shrunk to the size of an ant surrounded by sky-high stacks of books. Even the ground crinkled with each step as the whole world had turned to paper. He gawked at the folds and creases in the sky and the colorful piles shooting into the seemingly infinite space. He walked in wonder until he started feeling pages turn beneath his feet. He looked down, realizing that he was moving across pages of his favorite novel, The Brothers Karamazov. He recognized the giant text of passages that he had memorized by heart. He smiled nostalgically, remembering the first time he’d read the book and decided that he could only be truly fulfilled with a career in literature. He quickened his pace until he was practically flying through book after book. He leapt and ran through pages of giant novels, words sticking to the bottom of his shoes each time he entered another story. 

Eventually, his legs began growing tired, but the pages kept turning no matter how much he wished they would stop. When thought he’d reached the edge, he jumped and dove into a giant sea of black ink. He held his breath and swam up toward the light. He gasped when he breached the surface. There was nothing nearby, save for a single book floating in the distance. He swam toward it and climbed on top of the hardcover. He took a moment to rest, limbs tired from running and swimming. He plopped onto his stomach and rested his right cheek on the rough surface. His hand pressed against the gold print that stood out against the gray cover. The text was far too large to make out, and when he finally sat up, it disappeared before he had a chance to read it. He walked around the book, scrutinizing every corner, careful not to fall into the ink. He even peered over the edge to examine its spine, but there were no names or titles written. It was completely blank. He sat in the middle of the nameless, authorless book, drifting in the endless sea. He pulled his knees to his chest, and he could feel his heart pounding against his thighs, but he didn’t know why. It ached the more he dwelled on the ineffable feeling. In a moment of lucidity, he understood that he was in a dream, but before he could decipher its hidden meanings, his alarm jolted him awake. 

When he opened his eyes, he was still sitting upright on the couch. Makka had moved and settled by his feet. He rubbed his eyes, surprised to find that they were wet. He wiped the rest of the tears that had fallen on his cheeks. He rarely had dreams, much less vivid and memorable ones. So, it came as no surprise that the dream stuck with Victor even as he drove to work. 

When he got to his office, he sat in his chair and turned on his computer in the hopes of making progress on an article he’d been writing for some journal he couldn’t even be bothered to recall. He’d been feeling uninspired in his work for a while, but he felt especially unmotivated that day. He typed out a few words before spending the next thirty minutes staring at the blank wall. He could barely focus on the screen. Instead, his thoughts were stuck on the strange feeling he had in his dream. 

Maybe it had to do with what Yurio said, he thought. He still didn’t know what the boy meant by his comment. He probably just meant that Victor shouldn’t give up either, that he should keep trying to persuade Yuri to return to his writing, but somehow, Victor couldn’t shake the feeling that the words held more profound meaning.  

Example. Example. Example.

He repeated the word to himself. Setting an example meant doing something that Yuri could regard as worthy of following. He wanted Yuri to be happy, to pursue a career that he loved, to take a chance and have some faith in himself. How could Victor do that when he himself was feeling unhappy with his career?

Maybe I’m reading too much into it.

He sighed and rested his head down on his forearms. Similar to his dream, real life had felt like an incessant sprint ever since he left grad school. Yuri’s introduction made the day-to-day easier, but he was still on that miserable track. What’s worse, he’d noticed a certain heaviness in his work that had built up over time, and each year, he could feel it increasing. As if running hard and fast wasn’t bad enough, he also had to carry this weight on his shoulders as he did. Now, he was tired and ready to let his body fall to the ground without ever seeing that glorious finish line. Did it even exist? If it did, what did it look like? Would he have to keep running forever? He couldn’t do it. He felt as if his lungs were finally ready to explode in his chest, as if his legs were ready to crumble beneath him. 

Realizing that his thoughts were quickly turning to a dark place, he lifted his head and decided: he needed a break. 

He left his office and took a lap around the building. 

I need a break.

The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. 

I need a break.

Yes, taking a break would give him an opportunity to recharge, to rediscover his passion again.

I need a break.

That was easier said than done. He would have to apply for another sabbatical, which meant he would have to convince the university that whatever work he planned on pursuing during the time off would be worth losing him for the semester. He pondered for a few moments about what he could do. Perhaps he could follow Yuri to Detroit and do research there, but that was no different than the work he was doing at GPU. 

I need a break.

But not just any break. A real break. One where he could explore literature in a way that he hadn’t done before, which wasn’t an easy task considering he’d been in the field for so long. 

After his second lap, a crazy idea popped into his head, accompanied by a memory. 

“If only you could be his editor.”

Phichit had said it as a joke a few months ago, but now it seemed like the perfect solution to his problems. It would give him a chance to stay by Yuri, at least for another semester, and it would set an example for Yuri that it was okay to step away from his career to figure out what he really wanted. Moreover, becoming an editor—specifically one for a burgeoning erotic novelist—was certainly different and exciting. Sure, erotic novels weren’t his area of expertise, but he would find a way to convince the university that it was a worthwhile academic pursuit, maybe even make up some bullshit about eventually offering a class on Russian erotica. 

Once he made up his mind, he walked to Yakov’s office and barged in without even an email to give the department chair warning. 

“Victor?” Yakov looked up from his paperwork, surprised by the unexpected visit. “I assume this is important seeing as you’ve invited yourself in without any consideration for my time.”

Victor disregarded the subtle scolding, too hellbent on the idea of a break. “Important enough,” he responded. He walked toward the desk and stood tall in front of the grumpy figure. He rarely had trouble exuding confidence with anyone else, but Yakov was almost like a father figure to him, and at that moment, he felt like a teenager asking for permission. He did his best to look and sound sure about his decision. “I’m planning on doing another sabbatical.” 

The department chair stared up at him, confused. Sabbaticals were common enough. Hell, Victor had just returned from one. He didn’t understand what was so special or important about this request. 

“Sure,” he responded. “You’ve done this before, so you know how the application process works. Another research project?”

“Actually, I—” Victor hesitated, nervous about Yakov’s reaction, “I was thinking of working as Yuri’s editor.”

Yakov paused to examine Victor’s face for any cracks in his sincerity. Finding none, he put his pen down and leaned back on his seat with his hands steepled and resting on his stomach. “Editor, huh? I didn’t know you had experience editing erotic novels.” 

“I—I...don’t…” he responded, the confidence in his voice slowly chipping away. 

“And Yuri,” Yakov continued. “I didn’t know he wanted to write again. Last we spoke, he wanted a position at another university. I hear he’s already submitted his CV.”  

Victor looked down, trying to stay calm and believe in this plan that he clearly hadn’t thought through. Still, he was there, and it was worth a shot. “He’ll write again,” he assured. “He will.”

Yakov saw the determination (and borderline desperation) in Victor’s expression. It wasn’t his place to tell him what to do, even though he often felt that the brilliant man wasted his talents. Besides, there was a good chance the university would reject the application based on Victor’s proposal. 

“Okay,” Yakov responded, though he didn’t approve. “When were you thinking of leaving? Next spring?” 

“Next semester,” Victor said.

Yakov sighed. Just as he suspected; the man was being impulsive. “Next semester,” he repeated. “That’s not possible. That application was due in December.”

“But you’re the department chair. Isn’t there some way you can vouch for me?” 

“That’s not how this works, Victor. You’ve been here long enough to know this.”

And Victor did know, but all logic and reason had escaped him the second he walked through the door.

“We need advanced notice,” Yakov continued. “You have lectures scheduled for next semester. You have hundreds of students signed up to take your classes.” 

“Maybe Georgi or Mila can pick up those classes?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Victor,” Yakov reprimanded. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you or what’s so urgent about this. You want to be an editor, but you’re placing all your bets on a person who’s shown no interest in being a writer again. You don’t seem to have a real plan. If you must, submit an application for sabbatical next spring, but next semester? No chance.”

Victor stood there, confronted with the reality of his situation, yet nonetheless restless and intent on doing something, anything , other than what he’d been doing the past five years. He understood that the university wouldn’t let him leave next semester, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t leave of his own accord. 

That’s right. He could leave. 

The second the thought passed through his head, his body froze.

The idea terrified him. 

He recalled what Yurio said. He recalled his dream. He recalled his conversation with Yuri about how, despite his deep love for literature, he had never written his own. Finally, he recalled what Phichit said last night.

You need to surprise him.

Then, he realized. 

He didn’t need a break, not really. He needed to follow the advice that he’d so adamantly given Yuri countless times. 

“Victor?” Yakov could tell that he wanted to say something, but he just stood, and the department chair allowed him a few more moments of contemplation. 

The decision weighed on him, partly because he never thought he would have to make it. Yuri had run the idea by him a few months ago, but a hypothetical question couldn’t compare to a real-life choice. He didn’t know why he was agonizing over it. He had pushed Yuri to leave GPU and pursue writing so many times, and yet, when faced with the same decision, Victor hesitated to take the leap. 

Perhaps it was because Yuri had already come close to achieving his dream and given up on it. Victor, in contrast, had only known academia. He didn’t have a completed manuscript; he didn’t even know what he would write about. But despite all the uncertainty and utter irrationality of the decision, it felt very much like the right one. 

So, when he finally found the courage to speak, he looked the department chair in the eye, and without a hint of doubt, he said, “Yakov, I quit.”

Notes:

I think this might be the longest chapter I've written, and there's a lot going on lol.

1) Lots of Victor introspection. How did you feel about that?

2) I've never written a dream sequence before, so let me know what you think or comment your dream interpretations :P

3) CHULAMETTI. Wasn't planning on writing them as a couple, but then I read through some old chapter and thought it made sense. Thoughts?

4) Angry sex. I'm not the best at writing it, and I don't particularly enjoy writing it. I thought it was appropriate for this chapter, but I did my best to make sure it didn't cross the non-con/dub-con line. I was gonna write out a proper sex scene, but I got scared lol. Let me know how I did :O

Feel free to comment your thoughts! Always looking to improve :)

Chapter 18: You Listen

Summary:

The one where Yuri makes a decision.

New year, new me ;P Well, same me, but now I get to put "Esq." at the end of my name because I PASSED THE BAR ; O; Now I get to do law things in addition to writing porn #blessed.

Anyway, enjoy this new chapter! Things are winding down for this story. If all goes according to plan, there will only be two chapters left :O I can't believe I've made it this far. Thank you all for making this possible with your comments and kudos <3

Unfortunately, there won't be a chapter this February. Since I'll be starting work soon, I'll have less free time to write. I need some time to write out the final chapters. I know how I want this to end, I just need to get it down on paper. And honestly, I've been feeling uninspired lately :( but hopefully I'll get my mojo back soon!

Appreciate you all~

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Thursday, 4:45 p.m.

The past few days felt like eternity as Yuri waited on any word from both Victor and the university in Detroit. He wanted to reach out and say something, but Victor wanted space to think. As for the university, Yuri had submitted his CV last Friday, and it was already Thursday—nearly a week of watching his phone like a hawk and obsessively refreshing his inbox. Since he had the luxury (and curse) of free time, he had nothing to distract him. Reading only reminded him of Victor, and he couldn’t call on Phichit, who was still busy wrapping up the semester. So, on most days, he vegetated.  

While Yuri sat on his couch, passively watching Netflix and pondering what more he could do to kill time, his phone rang. He recognized the area code. Detroit. 

Yuri’s eyes lit up. He rose from the couch and began pacing the room, unable to contain his eagerness. He composed himself before answering, greeted by a chirpy woman who identified herself as the chair of their language department. Somehow, Yuri felt relieved that she sounded nothing like the austere old department chair at GPU; he probably couldn’t survive another nerve-wracking interview with someone like him. 

“We’d like to fly you in for an interview,” the woman said. “We were impressed with your CV, and you managed to get Yakov Feltsman’s recommendation. He’s notoriously tough.”

Yuri chuckled back in agreement. He’d had enough experiences with the formidable figure to know that “tough” was an understatement. “So, when is the interview?” he asked. 

“Tomorrow. Does that work?”

“Oh...umm...” Yuri paused. The initial excitement of the call wore off, and suddenly, the hypothetical idea of moving away became all too real a possibility. 

“Or is that too soon? I understand your semester is winding down, but if you need more time—” 

“—No, no…” Why was he hesitating? He’d spent days anxiously waiting for this opportunity, and now he can’t even give her a straight answer. “It’s just—umm...how would that work?” he settled on asking. 

“Well, we can book a flight for tomorrow morning and hold the interview sometime in the late afternoon. You can fly back the next day if you’d like. We can arrange accommodations, at the university’s expense, of course.”

“Right,” Yuri said. “That, umm...that works for me...sounds great...” He feigned enthusiasm and hoped that she couldn’t sense the uncertainty in his voice. This would be his new boss, at his new job, in his new city. Change always frightened Yuri, but he was so sure this would be different. He wasn’t giving up his dreams to start a new career; he was merely transferring universities. The day-to-days would remain largely the same. This wasn’t a big deal, he told himself. But somehow, it felt like it.

After they discussed the logistics of the trip, Yuri hung up the phone and began packing. He grabbed his garment bag from his closet and carefully placed his best suit inside. He picked out casual clothes for the following day and packed away toiletries in his bathroom. He didn’t need much—it was only an overnight trip after all—but he felt a sense of panic wash over him. Perhaps it was the immediacy of it all. Perhaps it was a case of pre-interview jitters. Whatever it was, it made him inexplicably frantic for someone who had just received good news.  

As he continued to bounce around his apartment, gathering things for his trip, the doorbell rang. He paused his packing and walked to the door. He wasn’t expecting any visitors. It probably wasn’t Victor, and Phichit normally knocked or just let himself in. He peered out through the peephole, surprised to see the familiar face. He opened the door. 

“Hi. Umm, Yuri, right? You’re Victor’s student.” 

“Yeah,” the blonde replied curtly. “Can I come in?” he asked, watching his tone to sound less abrasive. 

“Oh...uh…” Yuri hesitated. He felt self-conscious, never having met with students in such sloppy attire. Even though he was home, he felt strangely underdressed in his baggy shirt and cotton shorts, as if he’d broken some professional rule of decorum. Not to mention he didn’t know the boy’s intentions or the policy regarding students in professors’ homes, if such a policy did exist. He scanned the area to make sure no one else was around.

“I’m not trying anything...weird,” Yurio said bluntly and rolled his eyes, sensing the professor’s discomfort. “I just need to talk to you.”

“Right, umm, sure.” Yuri stepped out of the way and guided him in. 

Yurio discreetly examined the apartment. It wasn’t just Professor Katsuki’s, it was Eros’ . Under different circumstances, being in his favortie erotic novelist’s home would have elicited a more rapturous response. He would have brought another book to sign; he would have asked a million questions like an audience member at the question-and-answer segment of a panel. But he wasn’t there to indulge his fanboy dream. He was there to talk some sense into this man he’d come to admire through his novels. 

He took a seat on the couch, noticing a photobooth strip of the two professors on the coffee table. The first one was a candid shot of the couple caught off-guard by the camera. The second, a normal smiling photo with Professor Nikiforov’s arm around Professor Katsuki’s shoulder. The third, a silly picture with their tongues sticking out. The last, a photograph of them kissing. It was cute, the boy thought, though he would never admit it outloud. 

“Would you like something to drink?” Yuri asked awkwardly, still uncertain about the appropriateness of the situation. “Uh...juice? Water?” He listed out a few more non-alcoholic beverages before the boy stopped him. 

“I’m good, thanks,” he said. 

“Oh, okay.” Yuri approached and sat on the other side of the couch, keeping distance between them. The photostrips caught his eye. He felt the blood rush to his face. He’d forgotten about them and hoped that the boy hadn’t noticed. Victor was his professor, after all. “So,” he quickly said, drawing his attention to himself, “what brings you here?” 

“I wanted to see how you were doing,” Yurio said. “I’m not sure if Professor Nikiforov’s told you…” The blank expression on the professor’s face answered his question. “I’m the one who told him about the girl who wrote the article.”

“Oh…”

“The hearing was today. They asked me to appear as a witness, so I did. Your statement really helped too. We won’t know their decision for a few days, but I think we had enough to prove that she was behind the pictures.” Yurio observed the professor for a few seconds before continuing. He’d never spent time with him, so he didn’t know whether the silence was normal. Receiving only a perplexed stare in response, he added, “That shit that happened to you...it sucked. Hearing it read out loud was horrible. So…” for lack of a better term, he asked, “you good?”

Yuri was simply struck. Victor hadn’t filled him in on all this information, probably because their conversation had devolved after he broke the news of his quitting. It was a lot to process in one sitting, especially with a complete stranger scrutinizing his reactions. He was also surprised by the boy’s unexpected concern. Last time they met, he looked ready to tear him apart. “Yeah, I’m...I’m okay,” he finally responded. 

“Good.” 

The two of them sat in silence for another minute before Yuri spoke again. 

“Was there anything else?” 

“Yeah…” Yurio didn’t know how to broach this next topic—the real reason why he decided to show up at the professor’s doorstep uninvited after getting his address from Professor Chulanont. He couldn’t get it from Professor Nikiforov, not after their encounter the other night outside University Hall. He twiddled his thumbs in his sweater pocket before saying, “I know you’re Eros . Well, I guess the whole university knows now, but I’ve known since before the article.” 

Suddenly, Yuri’s body felt cold, as if all the blood had drained out of him. The logical part of him knew that this boy probably meant no harm. He worried about him, even went so far as to testify for him. Nevertheless, his body instinctively reacted to the trauma of last week’s events. A student knowing about his past had never ended well.

His hands sweated profusely, moisture seeping through the thin material of his shorts. He gulped, but his mouth was dry. “What do you want?” he asked in a tone far too defensive not to notice. 

The boy knit his brows together, taken aback by the response. “Relax,” he said. “I’ll leave as soon as I’ve said my piece.” 

Yuri nodded, still on edge. 

“When I first found out who you were, I was angry, annoyed. I didn’t know why, but I figured it out eventually. I was pissed because you stopped writing…I didn’t understand why you would quit.” He looked down, too embarrassed to look the professor in the eye. “Your books...they really helped me…”

Yuri wasn’t sure where the boy was going with this, but his vulnerability was clear, and it slowly melted away Yuri’s guarded expression. 

“I was going through a rough time, and reading your work helped me process a lot of it.” The boy looked up, catching the professor’s sympathetic look. “Tch, don’t give me that shit. I’m not asking for your pity. All I’m saying is that…you’re good...better than you think.” 

“I—umm...thank you…” Yuri didn’t know how to respond. This boy was the last person he expected to read his novels, much less appreciate them in a way that Yuri had always dreamed his readers would. “It means a lot,” he said, “especially given these last few weeks.”

Yurio nodded. “I know, but that’s no reason to leave the university, and it’s definitely not an excuse to give up on writing.” 

Yuri chuckled. Ah, so this is what it’s all about. “I’m guessing Victor told you about all that,” he said with a tinge of cynicism in the way he raised his brow.

“This has nothing to do with him,” the boy responded. “He doesn’t even know I’m here. I’m here because I wanted to be, because I think you’re making a mistake.” 

“A mistake?”

“You’re a writer, you’re good, you’re out a job, and most importantly, you’re out of excuses.” 

Yuri shook his head. “You don’t know anything about me,” he said, almost indignant. “I have my reasons for quitting. I don’t expect you to understand, and quite frankly, I don’t owe you an explanation.” 

“Well, quite frankly, I’m not asking for one,” Yurio retorted. “I—” He paused. He thought about checking his tone, perhaps approaching the conversation in a more compassionate manner. But then he thought— 

Fuck it. 

“I am asking you to get your head out of your ass and face the facts. You’re right, I don’t know you, but I do know that you run away as soon as shit hits the fan. That’s exactly what you did when your books weren’t selling, and that’s exactly what you’re doing now. You’re miserable, and not just because of the article, it’s because you’re forcing yourself to to stay in a career that does nothing for you. It’s obvious that you want to be a writer; you are a writer. Your work is good. It’s honest, and the world would be better off with it than without it. Who cares if some people don’t like it? Fuck those assholes. There are people out there who love your writing. Some people read it for fun, but other people read it to escape, to get through the day. Your work matters. Have some goddamn faith in yourself!” 

By the look on his face, it was clear the professor wasn’t used to being called out so bluntly.

“Stop running away,” the boy continued. “I can accept that you want a break, a hiatus, whatever the fuck you call it. But if you retire now, I…I’ll make you regret it for the rest of your life!” 

As soon as the boy finished his emphatic speech, he got up from the couch and stormed out of the apartment. He meant everything he said, but that last part came out of nowhere. “Stupid,” he muttered to himself as he bolted out the front door. He didn’t even give the professor time to formulate a response (not that he could have; he was far too shocked by the outburst to utter a single word).  

Once the door slammed shut, Yuri sat in the deafening silence of his apartment. He was at a loss. What was he supposed to do after getting perhaps one of the greatest scoldings of his life? And by a sassy teenager no less. He sat for a few more minutes before coherent thoughts returned to his brain. 

He still had to pack. He still had a flight. He still had an interview. The boy’s words didn’t change that. 

_________________________

Friday, 3:15 p.m.

“...Holy...fucking...shit...” 

Mila nearly choked on her beer when Victor broke the news to the group. The Russian professor had called Chris, Mila, and Georgi to join him at the bar that Friday afternoon. Now that the semester was officially over, it felt like the right time.

“What are you going to do now?” she asked. 

“Write,” Victor responded. 

“Like...a book?”

“Yes.” 

“Well, I guess if anyone can pull it off, it’s you. But even with a plan, it’s not going to be easy.” 

The other two professors nodded their heads in agreement. 

Mila noticed Victor’s uneasy expression, and doubt began to creep in. “You do have a plan...right?”

Even though the feeling of discontent had haunted Victor for a long time, the decision to leave only came to him when he was already in Yakov’s office. He looked away, too ashamed to admit that he’d acted impulsively. “Well…” 

“You can’t be serious?” Mila said, almost expecting him to laugh it off as a joke. When he didn’t, her eyes widened in disbelief. “Oh my god, you’re serious.”

“Hold on,” Georgi chimed in. “Let me get this straight: you left your tenured position to become a writer, but you don’t have any real plan of action or some safety net to fall back on?” 

“When you put it that way, it sounds terrible,” Victor said. “And I do have a safety net...sort of...”

“Oh? What is it?” Mila asked incredulously. 

“Being Yuri’s editor...maybe…hopefully…” 

The three professors stared at their silver-haired companion with mixed expressions of confusion and concern. This version of Victor was a far cry from the genius workaholic they’d known since grad school. Victor always had a plan, or so it seemed, and now, he was floating aimlessly in career purgatory. 

Moreover, none of them had heard anything about Yuri writing again. In fact, they were all under the impression that he was leaving for another university. 

“Have you...told him?” Chris broached the topic, fully aware that Victor had buried himself with work that week to avoid thinking about Yuri entirely. Victor hadn’t told him anything, but dating Phichit was like having his own personal Nikiforov-Katsuki news network.

“Well, no…” Victor said dejectedly. “He doesn’t even know I quit. We haven’t really talked since last week, since he told me he was leaving.” 

Chris sighed. “Mon ange, you know I support you no matter what, but I can’t help but worry...”

“Same,” Mila said. “We know you’ve been in a slump, but is this really the solution? How are you supposed to rely on Yuri when you haven’t even told him anything?”

“And since when did you want to be a writer?” Gerogi added. “I know you’ve written a few stories, but that was back in grad school.”

Georgi was right; Victor had never shown any real interest in becoming a writer before. He’d spent his whole academic career focusing on the singular goal of making a living off of literature, and academia was the fastest way to reach it. But if Victor’s learned anything this past year, it was his undeniable hunger to create. Part of the emptiness he felt had already been remedied by Yuri’s arrival, but the rest could only be cured by writing. 

“It’s hard to explain,” Victor said. “I think I’ve wanted this for a long time. I was just too blind to see it.” His expression softened as he continued to explain how he’d been feeling.

The three professors exchanged sympathetic and understanding looks. They realized that what seemed like an impulsive act by a man who had lost his way was actually the result of years of burnout. Victor had worked himself to exhaustion, but he was good at hiding it. He could have fooled anyone, and for a while, he did. But now, with his guard down and his emotions plainly visible on his face, his friends could tell that this decision had been a long time coming. Victor’s choice would allow him to breathe and enter a creative space that he’d only observed from afar. Even if it wouldn’t be easy, no one at that table doubted that it would return to him a sense of purpose and joy in his work. This decision was a sign that Victor had finally chosen love over work, passion over security. 

“Well, then,” Chris said with a soft and sincere smile, “I guess that settles it.”

“I for one can’t wait to read your book. The critics aren’t ready for Victor Nikiforov, award-winning author!” Mila slid closer and playfully draped her arm around Victor, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “We’re proud of you,” she said, giving him one last squeeze before bouncing back to her side of the bench. 

“I guess I’ll be the new top professor in the department now that you’re gone,” said Georgi, “I’ve been living in your shadows too long! Even Yakov thinks so.” 

“Yakov only tells you that because you’re the only one who actually listens to him,” Mila teased. 

Victor couldn’t help the giant grin on his face. The past few days had been a roller coaster of emotions. The second he got home from his meeting with Yakov, he panicked. “I just killed my career,” he said as he paced his living room. During the next few days, he vacillated between excitement and fear, determination and regret. Deep down, he knew he’d made the choice that felt right, but that didn’t mean it was right. The uncertainty slithered its way into his mind and poisoned his thoughts. Coming into this conversation, he’d still felt conflicted, stuck between extremes of doe-eyed optimism and crippling trepidation. With the support of his closest friends, however, he felt like he could take on the world. 

“Thank you,” he said, the glimmer in his eyes shouting a more profound gratitude than his words could express. 

“So, how do you think he’ll react?” Chris asked. “You haven’t talked to him in a while, and you’ve chosen quite the news to break the silence.”

“True,” said Mila. “I thought we left the drama to Chris and Georgi.”

“Hey!” Georgi protested. 

Mila stuck her tongue out, acting, as always, younger than her years. Though that wasn’t a bad thing. Her willingness to embrace her inner child often made for insightful and straightforward advice. “I say you just tell him,” she said. “Not communicating at all is the worst thing you can do. Even if you think it would be too much for him to handle, that’s not really your decision to make. Tell him sooner rather than later, and let him process it in his own way.”

“You’re right,” Victor said. He’d already let too much time pass. For all he knew, Yuri could have gotten an offer and accepted the position. But he figured Yuri would have told him if he had, so Victor interpreted his silence as a good sign. “I’ll see him tonight.”

“I don’t know why you feel the need to wait,” Mila said. “Go now!” 

The other two nodded in agreement, and after chugging the rest of his beer, Victor rushed off to Yuri’s apartment. 

By the time he arrived, he was covered in sweat. The bar was close to his condo, but it was a ways away from Yuri’s place. Besides, he didn’t want to drink and drive, so he settled for a scenic though uncomfortable run in his work attire. He took a few moments to compose himself before ringing the doorbell. To his chagrin, no one answered. After another three unsuccessful attempts, he walked next door to Phichit’s apartment.

“Hey,” Phichit greeted. 

“Hi, I was wondering—”

“—I know,” he interrupted. “Chris texted me.”

“I really like that you two are dating. It’s so much more efficient,” Victor joked. 

Phichit chuckled as he invited the Russian man inside, offering him a drink before joining him on the couch. 

“Umm…” Phichit’s expression changed once they were both settled. “I wasn’t sure if you knew, but you’re here, so that answers my question.”

“Know what?”

“Yuri left for Detroit this morning. They called him in for an interview.”

“Oh.” He left without telling me anything. He should have expected it. He was the one who said he needed space. “When is the interview?”

“He should be done by now. I haven’t heard from him, but he’s probably back in his hotel.”

“Is he flying back tomorrow?” 

Phichit nodded. 

Victor sighed. I guess he would have to wait to tell him. Tomorrow felt so far away. So much could happen between now and then. Sleep wouldn’t be one of them. 

“You know,” Phichit interrupted his thoughts, “when Chris told me you quit, I was shocked. When he told me you did it to be Yuri’s editor, I couldn’t believe it. I guess I did say that shit about the right plot twist, but damn, Nikiforov, you go all out, don’t you?” 

“Being his editor isn’t a guarantee, neither is my writing career. I just knew I had to get out.” 

“Well, whatever your reasons are, I’m not the one who needs to hear them.”

Victor gave him a weary look and shrugged. “How? I’m not even sure he’ll answer my call, and this isn’t a conversation we should be having over the phone anyway.”

Phichit agreed, this information was far too important to deliver over telephonically. “True, but the sooner the better. What if they offered him the position on the spot?” 

Victor’s shoulders dropped heavy in resignation. “If he’s already accepted the position, nothing I say will change anything. He’ll move to Detroit, and I’ll start writing. Maybe I’ll move there with him if he lets me.” 

“But...it’s Detroit,” Phichit said with mild distaste.   

Victor chuckled. “I know.” The prospect of moving to a cold, industrial, midwestern city didn’t appeal to him either. “I just....I wish I could see him…”

Phichit nodded sympathetically. He wished they could see each other too. Having witnessed their relationship since its inception, he had come to learn that the couple resolved their issues best in person. 

“Hmm, I know you’re not on the same level of crazy as Chris and me, but…” he hesitated, unsure whether the suggestion he had in mind would cause more trouble than it was worth. But then he thought back to everything the couple had been through, and he decided they could handle it. “There is another way…”

____________________________

Detroit, 6:30 p.m.

When Yuri returned to his hotel room, he collapsed onto the chair in the corner, letting his limbs droop lifelessly over the armrests. Between the early morning flight and the interview anxiety, he was exhausted. He would have slept, but his mind was still racing. 

The interview had gone well. Really well. For the first time in his life, Yuri felt certain that he would get exactly what he’d worked hard to achieve. The problem was that he didn’t know if he wanted it. He groaned as he sank deeper into the chair cushions. He thought he’d made his decision, but the universe was bombarding him with stop signs. Damn Victor and his concern for his happiness and wellbeing. Damn Celestino and his conveniently-timed phone call encouraging him to chase his dreams. Damn blonde Yuri and his sincere admiration and respect for him as an author. 

He was seriously losing his mind. 

He got up and undressed. If he was going to suffer through this mental turmoil all night, he might as well be comfortable. The only thing worse than having a crisis was having one in a stuffy suit. 

Once he was in his boxers and a well-worn shirt, he ordered room service, too tired to brave the spring rain pouring steadily outside. He sat in bed with his laptop, ready to replace the stress of a major life decision with the stress of work. The department had sent over exam files for him to grade, and he couldn’t think of a duller activity to keep his brain occupied. 

He worked diligently, only taking a break for dinner, which he ate on the edge of the bed in the company of the local news anchorwoman, and to respond to texts from Phichit (why he needed to know his room number to make a “special delivery,” he didn’t bother asking). He finished grading most of the exams before he started nodding off. He caught himself as his head fell forward, forcing him awake. He checked the clock. It was already past midnight.

He turned off the television humming in the background and did his best to fall asleep. Unfortunately, the act of getting ready for bed gave him a second wind. It was a known paradox that the more effort one put into falling asleep, the less likely he was to achieve it. Yuri found himself experiencing this first-hand. He forced his eyes shut and counted sheep, literally. He imagined fluffy white creatures jumping over a short fence, numbering each one as it passed. When that tactic failed, he found himself lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and listening to the pitter-patter of the rain. 

His mind immediately wandered to Victor. He often slept best when Victor was around. He had the sweetest dreams, the deepest slumbers. He wished he could be there now. He imagined the comforting warmth radiating from Victor’s chest, his attention fixed on the areas where their bodies touched. He imagined the weight of Victor’s arm draping over him, his head nuzzled against Yuri’s shoulder, so close that he could smell the clean and crisp scent of his shampoo. On nights when both of them had trouble sleeping, they sometimes spent early morning hours making love, spending themselves until sleep was the only option their bodies would allow. 

Images of Victor filtered through his mind like a roll of film. Yuri shifted under the covers, savoring the silky feeling of fabric against skin. The sheet caressed his legs and the growing bulge between his thighs. He reached his hand under, palming at his erection. It was late, but his afternoon flight would give him the whole morning to catch up on lost sleep. 

He turned over onto his stomach, torso lazy on the mattress, knees propping his hips up in the air. He buried his face in the soft pillow and he rubbed his thumb in circles over the tip of his cock. The first drop of pre-cum slicked the rosy tip and drew out a muffled moan. He touched himself that way he remembered Victor touching him: gentle, curious, indelugent. He reached further down to play with his balls, lightly squeezing the velvet skin as he pictured Victor working his skilled tongue over them, gazing up with that cheeky glint in his eyes. He began to pump his aching erection. By then, the covers that shielded him from the frigid air conditioning had slipped away, but he didn’t care. He stroked faster, concerned only about the heat building inside him as he coaxed himself breathless toward his climax. He could feel himself melting under his own touch, inching closer and closer until— 

Yuri froze. Perhaps it was just his imagination, but he could have sworn he heard a knock on the door. He checked the clock. 1:30 a.m. There was no way hotel staff would bother him at this hour. After a few seconds passed, he felt sure it was just his mind playing tricks on him. 

He sighed, feeling his still-hard cock resting heavy in his hand. He relaxed onto the mattress once more, but as he prepared to continue his self-worship, he heard the knock again. It was soft—less of a request to enter but an inquiry to see if he was awake. 

Yuri quickly and quietly pulled on his pajamas, tip-toeing to the door and opening it slowly as far as the chain lock would allow. 

“Hi.”

His mouth fell open. Victor stood in the hallway, looking tired but effortlessly beautiful as always. Sometimes Yuri really did need to be more careful what he wished for. 

“Umm...can I come in?” 

Yuri realized how silly he must look hiding behind a door. When he unlatched the chain, his uninvited guest stepped into the dark room, letting the door shut behind him. 

“I’m sorry, were you asleep?” Victor asked.

“No, no, I was, uh…”  

Touching myself and thinking of you.

Yuri didn’t want to respond to that question honestly, so he left his answer incomplete. “Victor, wha—” Before he could continue, Victor stepped closer. Yuri found himself doing the same, drawn by an invisible magnetism until their chests could almost touch. “What are you doing here?”

“I needed to see you,” he said, simple and sincere.

They fell quiet for a moment, only the rhythmic fall of rain buzzing like static in their ears. 

“Why?” There were more questions in his head, but he could only mutter that one syllable before his eyes focused in on the tempting way Victor parted his lips. He looked up at him, still in a daze from the interrupted fantasy. Victor’s lashes glowed silver in the pale moonlight filtering through the window, his eyes like dark sapphires. Yuri raised a hand to cup his cheek.

Victor sighed, relieved, and melted into the touch. “Because I love you,” he said, “and...I have something to tell you. I—”  

Yuri shut him up with a kiss. Whatever Victor needed to say, it could wait until sunrise. 

Victor could feel the half-hard bulge in Yuri’s pants as he pressed it against his thigh. He didn’t know what to expect when he got on the last-minute flight to Detroit, but he certainly wasn’t expecting this. He didn’t fight it. In a way, he understood. 

The week had been long, and their last argument had ended with a proverbial whimper. An unbearable staleness had settled in their relationship over the past week, and it seemed they were both desperate for a breath of fresh air. Pulling it straight from each others’ lungs seemed like a good place to start. 

Yuri led them both to the bed, making quick work of Victor’s clothes and leaving them to pool on the floor. Victor returned the favor, pulling his pajamas down to his ankles. Yuri kicked them off as he fell back on the mattress, taking Victor with him. He kept a hand behind Victor’s neck to keep him so close that, even in the near darkness, he could see the speckled galaxy blooming in his eyes. He was still the most beautiful man he’d ever seen, and the longer Yuri spent tangled in his arms, the more he questioned how he could possibly leave— 

He pulled away, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. 

“Everything okay?” Victor asked, still breathless from the kiss. 

“Yeah...yeah, I’m fine,” he responded, discarding the thought before it could grow into something more, something real, something that would force him to take action. 

Yuri rolled both of them over until he was on top, arms on either side of Victor’s head. He reached a hand down and took hold of Victor’s hard cock, drawing out a low and sultry moan as the Russian man tossed his head back, hair fanning like a silver halo across the pillow.

Who was Yuri kidding? Having Victor here, looking like this

He didn’t stand a chance.

Victor looked up at him with half-lidded eyes, letting the pleasure build low in his stomach, the molten heat spreading through his body. He propped himself up on his elbow, his other hand clinging to Yuri’s neck. He could feel Yuri’s pulse under his thumb—quick and strong, rushing with excitement. He reached his head up, spreading sloppy wet kisses all over his chest and the hollow between his collarbones. He dropped back down to the bed, relishing in the arousal before reaching his own hand down. 

Yuri dropped his head to rest on Victor’s shoulder, huffing short and hot breaths as Victor began stroking his cock. It was already throbbing and leaking pre-cum. He wasn’t sure he could last another minute, not with Victor’s hands expertly moving up and down, rolling his wrist with practiced ease. Each stroke shook his body with pleasure. Feeling his arm struggling to support him any longer, he let himself drop to the mattress next to Victor. It felt almost more intimate lying face-to-face. Every now and then, they would catch each other staring. Had it been anyone else, Yuri would have hated the intensity in his eyes. But it was Victor, and his attention only turned Yuri on more than he thought possible. 

They quickened their pace, hands and hips begging for release. They closed their eyes and came almost simultaneously, shooting ribbons of cum between them. As their bodies relaxed, the room fell quiet once again. They opened their eyes and let out satisfied sighs, followed by soft smiles and adoring looks. They moved closer until their foreheads touched, ignoring the sticky mess on the sheets. Their knees knocked together as they shifted, their arms pinned uncomfortably between their bodies and the mattress. 

It was clumsy. Awkward. Perfect. 

As the rain continued to pour, Yuri couldn’t help but think Victor was often like spring rain. His presence was cool and comforting, like the sound of raindrops drumming against a windowpane, or the sweet spring breeze after a harsh winter gives way to milder seasons. He was unpredictable, showing up when Yuri was at his most vulnerable—like being caught in a downpour without an umbrella. And fuck was that annoying. But, like the rain, it was also necessary. Victor washed away any lingering anxiety like a deluge, leaving crystal clear skies and crisp air in its wake. In the heat of the moment, Yuri felt like he knew what to do. 

After a few minutes in comfortable silence, Victor sat up and leaned against the headboard. He pulled Yuri toward him. “When is your flight?” he asked.

Yuri reached down and grabbed his pajamas to wipe his hand clean. Sleeping naked wasn’t a problem, especially not with Victor next to him. He offered Victor the other pant leg before he settled back against his chest. “2 o’clock.”

“So, you’ll be free for breakfast?”

“Aww, you came all the way here to have breakfast with me?” Yuri teased.

“Don’t forget the handjob.”

“Ah, of course.” He chuckled and craned his neck to kiss Victor’s jaw. “And yes,” he continued. “I am free for breakfast. When are you flying back?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Did you plan any of this?”

“If by ‘plan’ you mean rushing to the airport with a half-baked idea and getting on the next available flight with only my phone and ID, then yes, I did.” 

Yuri shook his head. “You’re cra—” a big yawn interjected. 

Victor smiled and kissed the top of Yuri’s head. “We should get some sleep.” He looked at the clock. “Well, maybe we should take a nap.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I’m sorry. I know you wanted to talk...I didn’t really give you a chance.” 

“At breakfast,” Victor said. “Seeing you tonight was more than enough.”

_________________________

Victor walked out of the bathroom, shoulders slumped forward and lips pursed in displeasure. 

Yuri saw him through the mirror as he fixed his hair and turned to get a better look. He covered up a chuckle by clearing his throat. “You look…” 

“Don’t.” 

Yuri did his best not to laugh, but he couldn’t.

“Stop,” Victor insisted.

“I’m sorry,” Yuri said through suppressed giggles. “But you look—”

“—Like a mess, I know,” Victor sighed as he walked to the mirror and gave himself one last miserable look before resigning. He hadn’t brought a change of clothes, and the only ones he had he’d left to wrinkle on the floor. 

“You look fine, I promise,” Yuri said unconvincingly. “Now, come on!” 

As they left the hotel room, Victor turned heads, though not in the way he was used to. Yuri enjoyed the embarrassed flush that painted his face. The cafe offered him some reprieve with his wrinkled clothing less visible behind the booth. Once their pancakes and much needed coffee arrived, Victor cleared his throat and began. 

“I left,” he said. There was no use easing into it. He needed Yuri to know his plans, and he needed to know Yuri’s. 

“You left?” Yuri asked, forkful of pancakes already halfway to his mouth. 

“I left the university.”  

Yuri’s jaw dropped along with his fork. He sat silent. He didn’t know how to react. Literature meant the world to Victor, and now, he was throwing it all away. “W—why?” he asked almost in a whisper, as if directing the question to himself. 

A smile tugged at the corner of Victor’s lips. 

Yuri couldn’t believe it. Victor was smiling, but Yuri couldn’t think of a single explanation. He didn’t need to put himself in Victor’s shoes. He’d been through the same thing. He knew how it felt to turn his back on his calling. When he quit writing, he was certain no other career would fill the void it left behind. Even though he thought it was the right choice, he was devastated. He felt empty. By that logic, Victor should be feeling the same way. 

And yet, he smiled. 

Miliy,” Victor said softly. “I did it for you...”

“For me?” Although there was no question that Victor cared for Yuri tremendously, literature was his passion, his life’s purpose, something that had given meaning to his existence even before they met. It was the one thing that rivaled Victor’s love for him. Giving it up made no sense. “Are you joking? You must be. You can’t do this, Victor, You can’t just give up your—” 

“—And,” Victor quickly interrupted. “I did it for me.”

“I don’t understand…” 

“Remember when you asked me why I don’t write?” 

Yuri nodded. 

“That question’s been on my mind since then, and I couldn’t find a good reason, only excuses.”

“You—you’re going to write…” 

“Yes. I don’t exactly have a plan, more like a dream, really,” Victor chuckled nervously. “But I want this.” 

Yuri couldn’t argue with that. “Okay...okay…” he said, still processing the information. “So, what does this have to do with me?” 

Victor leaned across the table and took Yuri’s hands in his. “I think you should write too. Now that I’m not teaching, I can be your editor.” 

He examined Yuri’s face. Still in shock. 

“Look,” he continued, “I want you to know that I made this decision for my sake. I wasn’t happy. I was stuck. I didn’t realize what I needed, and what I needed was to follow my own advice.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I want your decision to be your own. I don’t want you to think that I quit to force you back into writing. I quit because that’s what I wanted. If you decide to write, I promise to be by your side. But if you decide that Detroit is your path, then I won’t stop you.”

“Victor...” 

“It’s okay,” Victor said, his thumb lightly caressing Yuri’s knuckles. “I don’t need an answer today. Whatever you decide, whenever you decide, I’m here for you.” 

Last night, Yuri had a moment of clarity, a split second where he felt like he knew the right choice, but he got scared and pushed it aside. Now, with Victor sitting across the table, holding him in the gentle and reassuring way that only Victor knew how…

“Alright,” he said.

Victor blinked a few times before speaking, “W—wait...what?” A tentative smile began tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Are...are you serious?” 

Yuri couldn’t help but chuckle at his response. Admittedly, he surprised himself too. The thought of writing and failing again scared him, but everything pointed him in that direction. He thought he was ready to move on, push forward, and ignore all the signs, but instead... 

He nodded. “Yes, I am.” 

The tentative smile turned into a full-blown grin. Victor stood up and reached over the table, sandwiching Yuri’s face between his palms and pulling him up for a hug, knocking over the bottles of maple syrup and other condiments in the process. 

All eyes in the small diner turned to the couple. Normally, Yuri would have minded the stares and whispers, but he didn’t have the heart to pull away from Victor’s genuine elation. 

The excitement was contagious. This was the single most frightening decision he’d ever made, but Yuri could feel all the doubt and uncertainty dissolve in Victor’s embrace. He hugged him back.

Notes:

Sorry for offending the entire city of Detroit lol.

Chapter 19: Writers' Retreat

Summary:

The one where they spend three months in paradise.

WOW HI. Was I supposed to update in March? Yes. Am I once again asking you to forgive me for failing to make good on my promise? Also yes.

This chapter took me forever to write. I was so indecisive about which scenes to include or exclude. Toward the later part of the chapter, I ended up writing scenes a bit like vignettes, so sorry if it feels a bit...choppy? It was easier to write that way, and I really wanted to finish this for you all.

Good news, THE STORY IS DONE. There is only one chapter left, and it's really more like an epilogue. I'm feeling...god, I don't even know what I'm feeling. I'll leave the sappy emotional shit to the next chapter. Since I am officially done wiring, I'm uploading the final chapter tomorrow (or technically later today since it is midnight). I feel terrible making you all wait so long, so I figured it was time to give you all some closure.

As always, thank you for your unwavering support of this fic. You have no idea how much your feedback means to me. Your comments bring me so much joy and get me through the hard shit. Seriously. I cannot thank you all enough.

Okay, enough yapping. GO READ!

Chapter Text

Victor woke up that morning with the sun warming his bare back. The linen blankets had long since been discarded, left to pool on the bamboo floor in the middle of the night due to the oppressive summer heat. The birds were already chirping, and the wild roosters crowing gave him little chance to fall back asleep. 

He sat up and rubbed the fatigue from his eyes. He squinted, still adjusting to the brightness that bounced off the white walls. He looked out the window to the calm glimmering ocean. The salty breeze wandered in, and he took a deep inhale, clearing his lungs of stale air. 

North Shore, Oahu.

He looked over his shoulder and smiled, greeted by Yuri’s gentle snoring. Even after a kiss on the forehead, he didn’t budge. Better let him rest, Victor thought. He crawled out of bed, careful not to wake him. 

He tip-toed to the bathroom to change into his swim shorts. Before he could close the door, Makka poked her nose in and wedged herself into the narrow opening. Just moments ago, she was in a deep slumber in the corner of the room, but she would never miss their morning walk for the world.

The beach was only a few steps away from their front door. He stepped onto the warm sand, feet sinking immediately into the powdery white material. He wiggled his toes, getting used to the feeling of loose earth, before walking toward the water.

Makka ran ahead of him, chasing away a group of Hawaiian shorebirds gathered on a small dune. She trotted back to Victor with a piece of driftwood in her mouth, eagerly waiting for him to play. 

After a few rounds of fetch, Victor left the tired poodle to laze around on the sand as he dove into the tepid ocean. There were no monster waves to attract surfers and daredevils this time of year; there was only the easy ebb and flow of pristine aquamarine waters. Victor swam until their humble beach house looked about the size of a thimble. He dove under to observe the colorful fishes playing hide and seek in the coral reef, keeping his eyes open for as long as he could before the salt water began to sting them. He swam back up, resurfacing with a sharp inhale, and lay on his back to float on the surface.

When the slow tug of the ocean finally pulled him back to shore, Yuri was sitting on the sand, waiting for him. 

“Hey!” Victor waved, taking big awkward steps to fight the damp sand and foaming waters.

Once the dripping wet man was close enough, Yuri handed him a towel. “I thought I’d find you here. Why didn’t you wake me up?” 

“You looked peaceful.” Victor patted himself down before taking a seat next to him. “Besides, you deserve some sleep. You were up late again.”

“I just wanted to read over another chapter.”

“That’s what I’m here for, remember?” 

Yuri smiled. “I know.” 

He still hasn’t been able to wrap his mind around the idea of having Victor as an editor. It was different from his experience with Celestino. Not that Celestino was bad at his job; he and Yuri just weren’t suited for each other. Working with Celestino, Yuri felt less confident in his own ideas, always anxiously waiting for approval only to receive a lukewarm response. With Victor, the process of writing was pure, untethered creative freedom. 

For both of them, the past few weeks felt like a dream. 

_____________________________

 

Four weeks ago…

After breakfast in Detroit, Victor managed to book a seat on Yuri’s flight, and after he convinced a stranger to swap, the couple found themselves seated together. Unfortunately, the rest of the plane ride didn’t go according to plan. Instead of sleep, the heavy turbulence kept them wide awake and awfully bored. These cheap, domestic airlines didn’t provide any form of entertainment, save for a few catalogues tucked away in the seat pocket. Yuri contented himself with staring at the fluffy clouds, gin and tonic in hand. Victor, however, had other ideas. 

About halfway through the flight, Victor asked, “You know about Phichit and Chris, right?”

“Huh?” Yuri snapped out of his daydream. “Oh, yeah, he told me a few days ago, though it was probably more just to cheer me up. He said you accidentally walked in on them.”

Victor chuckled at the memory. “Did he tell you how it happened?”

“No, I didn’t ask.” 

Victor resisted the smirk forming on his lips. “Well, it was on their flight to Barcelona.”

“Oh,” said Yuri. A second passed before he really got it. “Wait. On their flight?” 

“Mmmhm,” Victor said as casually as he could. 

“How?” Yuri sat up and turned his whole body toward Victor. Now, he was interested. “Did they…”

Victor nodded, and this time, he didn’t fight the devious expression on his face.

Yuri stared at him, stunned, and when Victor only continued to stare back with a suggestive look in his eyes, Yuri knew exactly what the man wanted. 

Not long after, the couple found themselves chest-to-chest in the narrow confines of the airplane bathroom. Yuri had gone in first, and Victor followed after, executing their plan while the flight attendants were busy handing out snacks.

“What’s that?” Yuri pointed to the sick bag in Victor’s hand. 

“A contingency plan,” he said plainly before setting the bag down in the sink behind him, liquid sloshing inside. 

He didn’t give Yuri time to ask questions before he was all over him, every inch of his body burning like a furnace everywhere they touched. Victor had been sitting on the idea for the past hour, and the anticipation alone was enough to get him hard as a rock. It made the short walk to the back of the plane extremely difficult and uncomfortable, especially with passengers already sitting at crotch-level. 

They kissed each other, arousal heightened by risk. They kept their movements limited and stifled their moans, hoping that the whirring of the plane would drown out their labored breaths. 

“How do you want me?” Yuri whispered low into Victor’s ear, emboldened by the danger and the bit of alcohol in his system. 

The timbre of his voice traveled all the way down Victor’s body and made his cock twitch. He unzipped his pants and let out a sigh as he freed it from the tight fabric.

“Pull your pants down. Turn around and lean forward as far as you can,” he said. 

Yuri obeyed, spreading his legs for stability and seductively rubbing his ass in figure-eights against Victor’s dick. He looked over his shoulder, face flushed and eyes coyly searching for validation. 

He had come a long way from being the timid, easily flustered man Victor met at the beginning of the school year, but even now, Victor loved the bashfulness that crept its way into his expressions. So perfect , Victor thought to himself. It was a shame that they had to keep quiet. Otherwise, he would have showered Yuri with well-deserved praises until he squirmed from embarrassment under him. He ran his hands over the length of his spine and rubbed and squeezed his buttcheeks, hoping that the physical worship would suffice.

Without any lube in hand, they couldn’t actually fuck. Instead, Victor instructed Yuri to bring his legs together. He slicked his palm with his tongue, coating his cock with enough spit to ease the friction as he slid between Yuri’s meaty thighs. It only worked for the first thirty seconds, but by then, Victor didn’t care anymore because the feeling of rubbing against Yuri was far too intoxicating. It wasn’t nearly as tight as his ass, but he savored it because being with Yuri like this (being with him in any capacity, really) was a fucking blessing.

Yuri practically whined when Victor reached around to stroke his dick in time with his thrusts. Yuri braced himself against the wall as Victor and the turbulence rocked his body. His knees felt weak each time the plane fell a few feet in the air and each time Victor’s hand tightened at the base of his cock. He pushed his ass out as far as the tiny bathroom would allow, and Victor took the hint, using his free hand to play with Yuri’s entrance. He circled a saliva-slicked thumb around the ring of muscle, feeling it tense up as Yuri neared his orgasm.

As hard as they tried to stay quiet, they couldn’t help the small noises that involuntarily escaped their throats as they ascended. 

“Fuck...Yuri...” Victor cursed under his breath, feeling the pattern of his thrusts falter as he came so, so close to finishing. 

Unfortunately, that was when three solid knocks interrupted them.

By now, neither of them were strangers to being interrupted mid-sex, so they wasted no time putting themselves together—pants up, dicks tucked. 

Still, they couldn’t explain why they were in the bathroom together. 

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to open the door,” the voice outside demanded. 

Without hesitation, Victor grabbed the sick bag from the sink and poured its contents into the toilet while making the most disgustingly believable retching noises. He reached into the bag and smeared some of the mysterious concoction on and around his mouth. 

Yuri peered over, erection fully gone and feeling nauseous at the state of the toilet. Whatever Victor had used, it looked like real vomit, complete with chunks and everything. 

Victor lifted his head up and whispered, “Open it and pretend you’re helping me.” He continued to dry heave into the toilet as Yuri tentatively peered out. 

“Sir, please step outside. I know there’s someone else in there.” The flight attendant looked irritated, then horrified when she saw the Russian man crouched over the toilet. “Oh…” Her hand shot up to her mouth in shock. “I—I’m sorry...I thought…umm…” Her face turned red with embarrassment. 

“The...um...the turbulence got to him,” Yuri explained. He wasn’t a good liar. He was sure the deep pink dusting his cheeks and the bead of sweat on his temple would give him away, but Victor’s act was convincing enough to make up for it. 

The flight attendant shook her head emphatically. “I’m so sorry,” she said. She looked over at Victor again, schooling her expression into something other than disgust. “Are you feeling better, sir? I’ll get you some water and...maybe a wet wipe,” she said as she turned away, obviously eager to escape. 

By the time she returned, they had cleaned up their mess (they weren’t going to be assholes and leave the poor flight attendant to do it). They returned to their seats, reassuring her that he was feeling much better. She handed him another sick back and some ginger ale anyway. 

“What was in that bag?” Yuri asked, curious about the Hollywood-quality vomit his partner had made. 

“Orange juice, milk, and Biscoff cookies.” Apparently, Victor had secured them when the snack cart made its way down the aisle.

“That was gross,” said Yuri.

“Thank you,” Victor responded with a proud smile. 

They laughed, and the rest of the flight passed without incident. Once home, they picked up right where they left off.

In the afterglow of tangled limbs and late afternoon sunlight, Yuri thought about his decision. It felt right. He wasn’t fighting the universe. Although there was a different fight ahead of him. It was one that he thought he’d already lost, but he felt better about trying again because for the first time, he wasn’t fighting alone. 

_________________________

Of course, that period of unadulterated bliss didn’t last. Over the next few days, Yuri and Victor wrestled with the realization that they were now both unemployed—Yuri with a rough manuscript, Victor with talent and a dream, neither with any real publishing prospects. They spent nights mapping out their future and talking each other through each wave of emotion: 

Panic, excitement, focus. 

A few days later, they settled on a plan. 

Instead of trying to get a publishing deal, Yuri would publish this book on his own. For most new writers, self-publishing was a gamble at best, but for Yuri, it was a pragmatic pursuit. He wasn’t an amateur, and he had a small but zealous fanbase to get him started. 

As for Victor, he would spend the next few months developing his story and finding an editor willing to take him on. Thankfully, he had enough savings to keep him afloat for some time. 

Finally, they decided that they both needed a change of scenery. The small college town felt too familiar, almost claustrophobic now that they had their lofty goals. 

They settled on Hawai’i that same day, when Chris and Phichit mentioned their plan to visit the popular island and invited the couple to join them. With no jobs to keep them tied down to one place or schedules to occupy their time, they had no reason to refuse. Later that evening, Victor proposed a longer stay. 

“Three months,” he said. 

“Really?” Yuri responded incredulously. “I knew you had savings, but I didn’t know you had that much money to blow.” 

“It won’t cost that much more than what you spend on rent here.” 

Victor had a point. Yuri’s lease would end in a month, and if he moved out instead of renewing it, he could easily spend that money on accommodations elsewhere. As for Victor, he had already paid off his condo and had cash to spare. Together, an extended trip was entirely feasible. 

“Hmm, three months, huh?”

Victor smiled, knowing that he was close to winning him over. “That’s enough time for us to finalize that manuscript and enough time for me to write a few chapters of my own. We can find a small place to stay, maybe somewhere by the beach?”

“I have been missing the ocean...” Yuri said, thinking about how long it had been since his last trip to Hasetsu. 

“Then this is perfect! Think about it...a quaint beach house...a whole island to explore...just the two of us for a little while...”

Yuri’s heart swelled at the idea, and with Victor’s pleading eyes and heart-shaped smile, he couldn’t say no. 

Finding a small house by the ocean to rent was easy enough. While they weren’t exactly spoiled for choice since most of them cost far beyond what they could afford, they had enough options to make planning enjoyable. They chose a small, remote beach house on the North Shore, nestled between sloping mountains and surrounded on either side by lush tropical greenery. Afterward, they spent the remaining days packing up Yuri’s apartment and moving everything to Victor’s condo. 

The night before their flight, Chris and Phichit volunteered to haul the last boxes, even recruiting some familiar faces for extra help.

“Trying to catch flies or what?” Yurio said, remarking on Yuri and Victor’s expression when he and Otabek showed up to the apartment unannounced. 

Yuri quickly snapped his mouth shut. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you.”

“When are you ever?” He responded.

He had a point. Yuri had only ever seen the boy by surprise or happenstance.

“Called them over,” Phichit said. “Figured we could get the whole Katsuki Defense Force together before we left.” 

Yuri drew his brows together. “Katsuki what ?” 

“Oh, I thought Victor would have filled you in by now.” 

The Russian man shrugged. “It’s not like we’ve had a lot of idle time. Planning a three-month trip isn’t exactly a walk in the park. We appreciate the help, boys.”

Otabek responded with a nod, and Yurio with his signature scoff. 

Once they finished with the move, they wiped the sweat from their brows and sat around the piles of boxes littering Victor’s normally spacious condo. Victor offered everyone ice-cold beers and sodas, which the group consumed in record time thanks to the heat that signaled the beginning of summer. 

They chatted for a while about the couple’s plans, about Chris and Phichit’s still-ambiguous relationship status, and about the boys’ summer internships. The conversation then turned to Olivia and the outcome of the hearing. 

“Expelled?” Yuri’s eyes were bulging out of its sockets.

“Yeah,” Yurio responded with an impassive expression that Yuri couldn’t understand. Expulsion was a serious consequence, and the most anyone in the room had reasonably hoped for was suspension. How could the boy be so unaffected by it? 

Yurio and Otabek were the only ones who knew about Olivia’s fate after the hearing. Victor had expected to hear from Yakov, but the man was still fuming after Victor’s decision to quit. Understandably. Victor’s sudden absence meant cancelling classes or finding replacements, and the burden of rectifying the issue naturally fell on the department chair’s shoulders. 

And so, the group listened as Yurio recounted how he and Otabek had overheard whispers around the freshman dorms that the girl had been expelled from the university, not just for the egregious harassment scheme she had orchestrated, but for other violations of the university code. Apparently, news of the hearing had spread, and more and more people (both students and faculty) had come forward with other claims against her, from bullying to plagiarism. 

“University witch hunt?” Phichit said unsympathetically. 

“Witch hunt implies that they’re unfairly targeting her,” Yurio responded. “This is just plain old karma.” 

And the boy was right. Olivia not only had the audacity to break the rules, but she had her parents’ money and power to silence anyone who even thought about reporting her. To everyone she had wronged, the hearing was a clear sign that the university could and would punish her actions, even at the risk of losing her family’s generous donations. 

Yuri felt bad for her, even though he decided that she did ultimately deserve it.

“Well, cheers to that!” Phichit held up his drink, and the others followed. “Thank fuck that’s all behind you. Now you can really start fresh, both of you.”

Victor and Yuri looked at each other and smiled. 

“It won’t be the same without you, chéri ,” said Chris.

Victor shrugged. “You’ll have Mila and Georgi.”

“Yes, I’ll have to babysit two grown adults. Lucky me.” The Swiss man rolled his eyes. “I feel like a single parent, abandoned by his partner for another man.” 

Phichit scoffed, “Oh please, you helped with the affair!” 

“He has a point,” Victor said, and Chris nodded in acknowledgement. 

“How about you two?” Phichit directed the question to Yurio and Otabek. “You gonna miss these two idiots?” 

“Miss what? Yelling at them to get their shit together?” Yurio responded. “As if.” But it was a half-hearted insult to cover up the obvious fact that, yes, he would indeed miss them, and more than he’d like to admit. 

Otabek only smiled, and that was enough of an answer. 

_____________________________

Mon dieu , I feel like I’m swimming in soup,” Chris remarked as they exited the airport in Honolulu. 

The heat and humidity hit them as soon as they stepped outside. No one was safe. Everyone was sweaty as all hell. 

“Feels like home to me,” Phichit said, unphased, having grown up in a tropical country. “You’ll have to get used to it if you ever plan on visiting Thailand with me.”

“I’ll take a few trips to Florida for practice,” Chris responded. 

Yuri and Victor followed, Makkachin trotting behind them on her leash, as they hailed a taxi. They stopped by a car dealership to fetch the Jeep the couple had leased to use during their extended stay. The little beach house would be ready at the end of the week, but for now, they would indulge in everything their resort had to offer: massage packages, surf lessons, and an overly-theatrical “luau” specially made for tourists. 

One final week of leisure, one final week of pretending that everything remained as they were, one final week before they pushed forward toward the uncertainty of their dreams. 

____________________________________

“Come on, just jump!” 

Victor’s knees felt like jelly as he held on for dear life against the cliff’s edge approximately fifteen feet above the water. 

He cursed himself for letting Chris peer pressure him into cliff jumping. He was getting major Barcelona flashbacks. That asshole knew he was afraid of heights, and Victor’s anger at the situation only worsened when he saw the smug bastard doubling over from laughter on the shore. Phichit was right there with him, but at least he had the decency to fake concern. “You got this, Victor!” he said as he elbowed Chris to stop relishing in his best friend’s plight. 

Victor stared at the line of angry tourists and locals waiting behind him for their turn. He could hear their fed-up whispers. Some were less subtle, openly calling him a baby or a chicken. 

“Don’t listen to them! You can do it!” Yuri yelled in encouragement. He was wading in the water below, waiting for Victor to finally take the leap. “Just close your eyes and jump!”

Victor was, quite literally, stuck between a rock and a hard place. The “rock” being the rugged cliff, and the “hard place” being the ocean surface that would feel more like solid ground when he inevitably belly flopped onto it. He didn’t have much of a choice now that he’d climbed all the way up there, so he did what Yuri told him to do—he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and pushed off.

“Wait!” 

But it was too late. 

Victor was already falling mid-air before he heard the warning, and his body was already crashing into something hard before he could even comprehend the gravity of the situation. 

He couldn’t remember much after that. He remembered hitting his head. He remembered being underwater. He remembered the feeling of being dragged.  

When he finally came to, coughing up salt water and gasping for air, he saw Yuri hovering over him. His vision was slightly blurry, and the ringing in his ears hadn't stopped. 

“Do you need an ambulance?” He could vaguely hear someone saying in the background before Chris and Phichit shooed the stranger away and lifted him off the sand. The two of them carried Victor to the car, laying him carefully in the back seat of the jeep, where Yuri cradled his head on his lap. 

Victor reached his hand up to his forehead and winced at the sharp pain. He drew his hand away until he could see the tips of his fingers coated in blood. 

“My...my head…” He croaked. “Wh—what...happened…”

“Shh, it’s okay,” said Yuri. “We’ll get you patched up soon.” 

Three hours and five forehead stitches. That’s what it took to get Victor “patched up.”

When they got to the hospital, Yuri explained everything. How they had gone cliff jumping, how he had been wading too close to the cliff, how Victor had pushed off too strong and launched himself forward, how Yuri had tried to swim away but didn’t quite make it in time, how he accidentally kneed Victor’s head underwater as he frantically kicked his legs.  

The rest of Victor’s day was spent in the hotel, suffering through the dull throbbing of his head as the rest of them took turns checking in.

“It’s still pretty funny,” Chis chuckled as he sat on the other side of the bed to begin his watch.

Victor shot back with the iciest glare he could muster. “Fuck you.”

_____________________________

Having experienced enough head trauma for the trip, Victor stayed behind when the crew left one morning for surfing lessons. The waves were gentle, but the rocky shores and hidden corrals underwater were enough to elicit a firm “hell no” from him.

And so, Yuri, Phichit, and Chris left him to recover as they headed toward the beach with their unwieldy surfboards in tow.

They spent half an hour on the shore practicing how to “pop up” on the board and learning as many basics as the instructor could cram into their short session. When they finally hit the ocean, it took another fifteen minutes before any of them could get past the turbulent white water.

Despite their difficulties paddling out, the three friends stayed in the ocean until sunset, taking turns wobbling on their beginner boards and getting wiped out by the waves, no matter how embarrassingly small. It was exhilarating, sometimes scary, but mostly just plain old fun. By the time the ocean had mellowed out, all three were properly tired.

Phichit was especially exhausted.

“Surfing just isn’t your thing,” Chris would say. 

Inevitably, Phichit would respond by aggressively paddling to catch the next wave. Apparently, he never caught on to the fact that Chris was only egging him on. 

Unsurprisingly, Phichit retired first, leaving Chris and Yuri to sit on their boards and chat in the serene waters. They gently kicked their feet, feeling the slow flow of water through their calves, between their toes. The sunset painted the Honolulu skyline pink and gold, and the ocean glowed with its brilliant reflection. The scenery took Yuri’s breath away, and all he could think about was Victor. 

“He loves you, you know,” Chris said, as if he could read his thoughts. “More than anyone.”

Yuri smiled shyly.  

“He’s not the easiest person to be with,” Chris continued, “I know that, even as a friend. He’s dense, and a pain in the ass.”

Yuri laughed, “I’m not easy to be with either. We’re both a bit of a mess, especially now. I know the past year’s been a lot...for all of us, really. We’ve put you through so much and—”  

Chris shook his head. “I’m not looking for an apology. All I’m saying is that...what I mean is…” He paused for a moment. There was an uncharacteristic seriousness in his features that told Yuri to stay quiet and hear him out. “As much as I love to mess with him and give him a hard time, Victor means a lot to me. He’s my best friend, and I know him well enough to know that he’ll struggle with all this change. He’s scared, no matter how much he tries to convince himself otherwise. He’ll fight it. Maybe he’ll take it out on you, maybe he’ll deal with it in other ways, I don’t know. Truthfully, I’m worried about him, and…I’d like to ask you for a favor...”

Yuri nodded and listened. 

“Love him,” he said, “no matter how hard it gets...love him.”

_____________________

“Hey, how was surfing?” Victor turned off the television when Yuri walked in.

Without a word of greeting, Yuri took Victor’s hand and led him off the bed to stand in front of him. He observed him for a moment—eyes as blue and deep as the ocean, wound purple and rugged on his poor forehead, smile like a warm sunny day. Before Victor could ask, Yuri pulled him in for a kiss, gentle and sweet.

“I love you,” he said, and that was the only answer Victor needed. 

__________________________

 

“Cheers!” Chris raised his tiki cup full of mai tai. “To a great trip and even greater company!”

“And let’s not forget,” Phichit added, “to our favorite couple’s future successes!”

Yuri and Victor’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment at their friends’ boisterous declaration at their shared luau table. It was their final night together, and their final night before moving into their beach house. Chris and Phichit insisted on saving the luau for last as a way to celebrate and send the couple off with a proper bang. Victor and Yuri couldn’t complain. After all, who could say no to feasting on kalua pork, poi, and mai tais all night long. Still, the festivities and sprawling tables of food didn’t change the fact that this was their last night before “shit got real,” as Phichit so often put it. 

There was a moment of shared nervousness between Victor and Yuri before the roar of the crowd drowned out their thoughts. The hula dancers had taken center stage, and their dread was soon forgotten when the MC requested volunteers from the audience to participate in a hula competition. Of course, by “hula,” he meant whatever awkward hip-shaking, belly-rolling motions the tipsy volunteers could manage. 

To no one’s surprise, Chris was one of the first to raise his hand. Phichit was more than happy to join. Once the MC had gathered enough brave souls on stage, the drums began beating, and each one gyrated their asses off, fueled by the hollers and whistles of the audience. Each round, the audience voted off one volunteer, until only three remained: Phichit, Chris, and another man who’d thoroughly impressed the crowd with both his dancing and his looks. Phichit and Chris shared a devious and knowing glance. 

In the end, Chris won the battle, but all three would win the war. 

______________________

It was near midnight by the time Victor and Yuri got back to their room. The couple walked back alone, clueless as to where the other two had disappeared after dinner. One minute, Chris was collecting his prize consisting of too many boxes of chocolate-covered macadamia nuts, the next, both men were gone. Too tired to properly worry, they left the luau with hopes of a relaxing evening in bed.

Unfortunately, once they were settled and comfortable under the covers, they heard soft moans coming from Chris and Phichit’s room next door. They kept their attention fixed on the television, both out of consideration for their friends’ privacy and to keep themselves from turning cherry-red at the unequivocally sexual ongoings on the other side of the wall. This distraction tactic worked for the first few minutes, but the local wilderness network was no match for what they heard next. 

“Do you two do this often?” Asked an unfamiliar, masculine voice. Victor and Yuri could barely make out the words they were saying, but the speaker certainly wasn’t anyone they knew. “It’s not everyday you get an invite to a threesome.” 

Victor and Yuri looked at each other, wide-eyed, before quietly giggling like children. They pressed their ears to the wall, feeling guilty for eavesdropping, but not guilty enough to stop.

“Why don’t you invite your other friends?” The voice said.

“That’s not a terrible idea.” They recognized Chris’ voice instantly. “They’re right next door. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind being included.”

They shared another look—one of curiosity, maybe a bit of arousal. Who could blame them? Bizarre situations called for bizarre reactions. They stared at each other for a few moments, quietly waiting for the other to give any signs of interest or disgust.

“As much as I’d love to see Victor Nikiforov naked, I doubt they’d accept.” That was Phichit, undoubtedly. 

“Hmm, that’s a shame,” the voice said, and that’s where the talking stopped. 

From then on, it was nothing but loud moans, dirty talk, and some mighty hard fucking. Victor and Yuri peeled themselves off the wall, unsure what to do next. They closed their eyes and turned off the lights in an attempt to sleep, but the salacious noises wouldn’t even grant them that. Instead, they lay there in the dark with their eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling, listening to their best friends bang a hot stranger from a hula competition.

Yuri shifted uncomfortably as chants of “fuck,” “harder,” and “yes” continued to penetrate the walls and assault his ears. Not to mention the steady banging of the headboard. It wasn’t bothering him so much as it was turning him on. It was getting difficult to control his breathing; every inhale and exhale felt too sharp, too loud. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Could Victor feel it too?

He turned his head slightly, surprised to see Victor’s low-lidded gaze fixed on his lips. Yuri licked them without meaning to, and Victor’s eye’s shot up, heavy with lust. Yuri swallowed visibly, and Victor smirked. 

They didn’t exchange a single word. They made love slowly under the covers, Victor pressed up behind Yuri, one arm slung over the slope of his waist to palm at Yuri’s cock. Victor bit down at the supple skin of Yuri’s shoulder, keeping his desire to fuck hard into his lover under control. Yuri kept his face buried in the pillow that guarded his sighs of pleasure. They were quieter than usual, but the rustling sheets and the chorus of moans and praises on the other side of the wall filled the silence. When they came, it was simultaneous and long after their friends on the other side had finished. Quiet fell over the room—peaceful and pleasant—and they drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, the group parted ways without mention of the night before. The North Shore awaited them. 

_____________________________

The beach house was even better than the pictures. It was perfect with its outdoor shower, macrame hammock on the front porch, and large dining table with mismatched chairs where the two of them could work. 

After Chris and Phichit left, Victor and Yuri settled into an easy routine, and in no time, the small beach house began feeling like home.

Weekdays were largely spent working, but weekends were sacred. On Saturday mornings, the couple would hike along the winding trails in the nearby mountains, ascending until they could get a panoramic view of the Pacific Ocean glittering under the sun. Sometimes their hikes would take them to thundering waterfalls, where they would rest on any dry rock they could find and enjoy the cool mist in each other’s company. They would spend afternoons sightseeing or driving along the highway with no particular destination in mind, and after a long day of adventure, they’d end their nights entangled with each other—all soft moans and crumpled sheets with the whisper of crashing waves outside. 

Sundays were for farmer’s markets. Victor and Yuri would walk into the small town nearby, mingling with locals and tourists, who were abundant this time of year. At some point, the vendors had memorized their names and faces, greeting them with a friendly “aloha” when they stopped by to pick out fresh produce. After returning from the market, they would pick up a book from the local library or bookstore and read together on the porch. Sometimes, they would choose different books, other times, they would pick the same one and take turns reading to each other. Although neither mentioned it outloud, they both preferred the latter. 

When Monday came, they would begin again.

_________________________________

“We should go on a date tonight,” Yuri said one Thursday afternoon. 

Victor looked up from the half-finished outline on his laptop, eyebrows raised. They hadn’t broken away from their routine since they arrived. “Sure,” he said. “Dinner?” 

“Yeah, I was thinking a picnic on the beach.” Unlike the beaches at home, the seaside temperatures on the island stayed mild, even through the evenings. Yuri had gotten the idea of a picnic the other night, when he took Makka out for a walk. The poodle’s restlessness had reached a level of disruptiveness that made it impossible to work, so a stroll on the sand seemed like the only solution. The temperate weather turned the short stroll into an hour-long excursion.

Victor smiled. “Sounds like a plan.” 

And so they spent their first Thursday night out of the house in a secluded alcove about half a mile away from their home. After picking up food from their favorite Hawaiian barbecue joint, they laid out a blanket on the sand, along with a small camping lantern that only slightly added to the pale moonlight. 

“You know, this reminds me a bit of our first date,” Victor noted as he finished the last of his meal.

Yuri smiled at the memory. “I can’t believe it hasn’t even been a year since then…” He picked at his side of macaroni salad before turning to Victor with a hint of uncertainty in his voice. “You...you don’t think we rushed into this, do you?”

“Into what, exactly?”

“Well, you know, moving in together, moving away together…I mean, some couples can’t even figure out what they are in the time we’ve been together, and here we are...halfway across the Pacific…”

Yuri almost expected some hurt or confusion on Victor’s face, but instead, he just smiled with a gentle, understanding expression.

“Are you scared?” He asked without any judgment.

Yuri nodded hesitantly. 

“Do you regret it?”

Without pause, Yuri shook his head. 

“Neither do I,” Victor responded. He placed his hand over Yuri’s, both of them leaning back comfortably to admire the deep purple clouds rolling in. Yuri could feel Victor shaking. It was almost imperceptible, and Yuri wouldn’t have noticed until Victor’s grip on his hand tightened as he tried to stop trembling.

It dawned on him that Victor was probably just as scared as he was. He’d been too focused on himself, his own career, his own life; he hadn’t even considered Victor’s feelings. This was all new to him too. Victor had taken a giant leap by leaving his job, choosing his happiness, choosing Yuri. Not to mention this was Victor’s most committed relationship. They were both embarking on a wild adventure with no guarantees of success, only the promise of unwavering love. Somehow, that felt like more than enough to sustain them. 

Victor turned to him, and Yuri moved closer, drawn in by that openness and vulnerability in his eyes. They kissed, and it felt electric and familiar all the same. Maybe it was the crashing waves or the roaring thunder. Maybe it was just them. Whatever it was, it made the moment stretch on, hypnotic, almost. Neither of them had noticed the small drops of rain pitter-pattering on their skin until the skies opened up completely. Rain poured down like a mighty waterfall, drenching them before they could even begin to pack their things or search for cover. 

They pulled away from each other only for a moment before realizing that they were in the middle of this storm, whether they liked it or not. Their food and belongings were too soaked to salvage. They were dripping from head to toe. They were in that storm—in it together.

And they laughed and kissed and pressed into each other. And they let it be.  

____________________________________

Months in Hawai’i seemed to fly at the speed of light no matter how much they tried to slow themselves down and live at an easy, island pace. They cherished every second. Every slow morning, every adventure-filled afternoon, every late working evening. They could pack their suitcases full of souvenirs and memories. Some would remain with them for the rest of their lives, some would vanish like foam in the golden sand. It was usually impossible to tell which memories fell into either category.

But somehow, they both knew that one sweltering afternoon would stay with them forever. 

On that day, they hadn’t gone on any exciting hikes; they hadn’t collected another crazy story to tell their friends when they returned home. On that ordinary summer day, Yuri simply walked into the kitchen where Victor stood with his second cup of iced coffee, feet covered with sand, skin pink and delicate from too much time writing on the sun-lit porch. He watched, etching that beautiful image into his heart. 

When Victor took notice, he stared back with a smile. He could tell something was different in Yuri’s demeanor, something tender and sentimental in his eyes. 

“Everything okay?” He asked.

Yuri nodded, and after a moment to collect his thoughts, he said, “It’s done.” 

Chapter 20: Stay Close to Me

Summary:

The one where they promise forever.

WE. FUCKING. MADE. IT.

As promised, here is the last chapter. Wow, it's been quite a ride. I want y'all to get to reading so we can close off this story, so I'll wait until the end to properly express my thanks and dump all my feelings.

Happy reading ; u;

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Victor took his time walking down the familiar cobblestone streets, admiring the Spanish storefronts on his way to a bar to meet with Chris. The two friends had important matters to discuss before Victor would join his partner at his final book signing. Barcelona was the last stop of Yuri’s six-month international book tour, and the excitement carried Victor’s body through the exhaustion that seeped into his bones after months of travelling. Fortunately for him, Barcelona summers were electric and enchanting. As the days’ heat melted into warm, balmy nights, the city came alive with rooftop bars, outdoor concerts, and endless events to ward off fatigue. 

As he wandered, the display window of a bookstore caught his eye. He stopped and grinned at the stack of books elegantly piled into the shape of a pyramid with one copy propped up by a metal stand like a star on top of a tree. 

Stay Close to Me by Eros

Victor opened the shop door, triggering the sound of a small brass bell. He walked inside and greeted the storekeeper at the counter before heading to the shelves near the window display. He picked up a copy and stood silently in awe. 

The cover was a soft watercolor gradient of purple and blue. He ran his fingers over the embossed title, smiling like crazy as he admired its fine details. He’d seen the book countless times during the tour, usually in the hands of rapturous fans as they lined up to get their copies signed. He’d even seen copies of it when Yuri unboxed them in their condo a few months after they moved in together. Unfortunately, between Yuri’s upcoming book tour and Victor’s new publishing deal in St. Petersburg, neither had time to celebrate his crowning achievement. Seeing the book in person, in an actual store, made Victor’s heart swell with joy. This was Yuri’s book. His partner’s book. One that he had written and published all on his own. Both of them had come a long way in the almost three years since they first met, and Victor felt tremendously proud.

He flipped open the first few pages, and tears began pooling in his eyes as he read the simple dedication: 

To my life and love. 

He wiped a tear from his cheek when the shopkeeper approached and asked him if he was okay. He was more than okay; he was overjoyed. He left the shop with a copy of the book. Sure, he could have gotten one for free, but supporting Yuri in every way he could was Victor’s quiet way of saying “I love you.”

He walked another block before turning into a small alleyway that opened into a concrete patio adorned with string lights and industrial fixtures. Chris waved from the bar. 

“I see I’ve kept you waiting a while,” Victor said, noting the empty wine glass in Chris’ hand.

Chris got up to greet him with a kiss on the cheek. “Not at all. Time flies when you get free drinks.” He raised his glass and winked at another man seated at the end of the bar. 

“Open relationships suit you.”  Victor chuckled. “Phichit?"

“Believe me, he’s somewhere having his fair share of fun,” he responded with a smirk. 

Victor shook his head. “Some things never change.”

“Six months isn’t that long.”

“Too long if you ask me.” Victor pulled the Swiss man in for a tight hug. “I’ve missed you.”

Chris smiled, happy to see his best friend after half a year apart. Video chats and texts were great for keeping each other in the loop, but nothing could beat seeing Victor face-to-face with drinks in their hands. “I’ve missed you too, chéri . Come on, drinks on me.”

Happily reunited, the two friends sat at the bar, picking up where they had left off.

“So, where to after this?” Chris asked. 

Victor sipped his sangria, letting the sugar and citrus sit on his tongue before swallowing. “I’m meeting with my publisher in St. Petersburg. I fly out tomorrow night, and I’ll be there for another month to make sure everything goes to plan.”

“Is Yuri going with you?”

“No,” Victor responded, disappointed. “I’ll be too busy to show him around or spend any meaningful time with him. He’s flying straight home.” 

“Ah, now I understand why you’re in such a hurry.” 

“Do you think I’m rushing in?” 

“Honestly, chéri , I think we’ve all been expecting this for quite a while.” 

Neither of them could help but smile. 

“Do you have a plan?” Chris asked. 

“I do. A very romantic one if you ask me.” 

“You know, the last time you told me you were doing something romantic, I rolled my eyes.” 

“And now?”

“Well, now you’re actually in love.” 

Victor chuckled. He couldn’t argue with that. 

After they finished their pitcher of sangria and said their goodbyes, Victor hailed a taxi to drop by the hotel before joining Yuri at his final event. 

About fifteen minutes later, he entered the venue, a large bookstore, to be greeted by purple and blue banners advertising the event and directing the attendees to a fenced-off corner of the building. There, event staff had begun unfolding rows of chairs for the audience. In front was a table with a single microphone and Eros’ namecard. Victor didn’t have one. After all, it wasn’t his event. Despite this, there were two chairs at the table: one for Yuri and one for him. Even though this tour was about Eros , Yuri always requested that extra seat. No matter how little sleep they had gotten or how many meals they had skipped after rushing to the next city on the list, Yuri always made sure Victor had an open spot next to him. 

Yuri’s face lit up when he saw the unmistakable platinum hair. “You’re here!” He rushed over to greet his partner with a kiss. “And you taste like wine,” he chuckled. 

“Had some sangria on my way here,” Victor explained. “Hot summer days just call for it, you know?” 

“I’m a bit disappointed you didn’t bring me any,” Yuri teased. 

“And have you drinking on the job? That’s just unprofessional, miliy.

“Oh?” Yuri raised an eyebrow and responded with a smirk, “We’ve both done far worse things at work before. You can’t possibly lecture me about professionalism.”

“Touché.” Victor chuckled. “Apart from drinks, is there anything else you need?”

“No, we’re all set!”

As the crowd filtered in, Victor could sense Yuri’s nervousness grow. After the first few events, Yuri had gotten good at hiding it, but Victor knew him well. He could see it in the stiffness of his movements, the way he rubbed his thumb against the edge of his index finger. Yuri would be fine, he always was, but during these short moments of doubt, Victor would wrap an arm around him from behind, feeling his shoulders relax and his breath go steady. 

“I’m proud of you,” he would say, and then he’d let go, watching Yuri climb up the stage to be greeted by enthusiastic applause. Yuri would wave to the crowd and look back at him with a more reassured smile. He would gesture for his partner to join him on stage, and they would both take a seat next to each other, where they belonged. 

These book tours followed a simple formula, usually in the form of a formal question and answer. The event host would ask softball questions that would give Yuri a chance to promote the book. The fun part came after, during the audience participation portion. It was both exciting and nerve-wracking not knowing what any one person would ask. Usually they kept the questions relevant to Yuri’s work, but every now and then, a brave, albeit nosy, member of the audience would ask a personal question. At this particular event, it was a woman with a homemade Eros shirt (Yuri knew it was homemade because neither he nor his old publishing company had ever sold  Eros merchandise, much less bedazzled shirts with a collage of every novel he’d ever written). 

The woman walked up to the microphone slightly flushed with a shy smile. “Hi...umm…I just wanted to say that I’m so excited to be here. I’m your biggest fan, and I wanted to thank you for doing what you do.” 

Yuri blushed and thanked her back. It made Victor’s heart so happy to see how much people adored Yuri. 

The woman continued, “I know you took the year off to teach. There were rumors that you weren’t coming back, but you’re here, so those rumors obviously weren’t true. Anyway, I was wondering why you decided to come back, and...and I’m wondering if he had anything to do with it.”

She smiled in Victor’s direction. Victor didn’t have a name card, and Yuri had only introduced him briefly as his editor to maintain an air of professionalism. 

But she clearly knew. 

Were they that obvious? 

Yuri chuckled and pondered the question for a moment before answering. “Well, I wouldn’t say those rumors were completely false. I was ready to leave it all behind, honestly. It felt like a safe choice to go into teaching, but it left me feeling...empty. Victor helped me realize that I wasn’t happy. He taught me not to settle, to take chances, to base my decision on joy instead of fear...” 

There was a thoughtful stillness and quiet in the room. Everyone was waiting for Yuri to continue, including Victor, who watched him with all the love in his eyes. 

“There’s a place you just can’t reach unless you have a dream too large to bear alone,” Yuri said. He glanced at Victor and smiled. “Thankfully, I never have to be alone again.” 

Underneath the table, hidden from the crowd, their fingers intertwined. 

_______________________________

After the book signing, the couple snuck out through the back exit, wandering through the city until they reached a familiar part of town. 

Victor’s grip tightened. His body almost surged with excitement when the gothic towers of the Catedral de Barcelona came into view. He picked up his pace, unaware of his own elation until Yuri pulled him back and told him to slow down.

“Sorry,” Victor said. “This place brought back memories, that’s all.”

They gazed up at the marvelous structure, gilded in gold as the sun began to set on the city. “Remember what happened last time we were here?” Victor asked.

Yuri nodded. It was hot and almost unbearably humid, but Yuri pulled Victor in close as they walked onto the concrete stairs in front of the wrought iron gates. “You know, I kept that string.”

“The one you used to fake propose?” Victor remembered fondly. “Why?”

Yuri looked away as his cheeks flushed the lightest shade of pink. “Just in case I needed it for something special.” 

Although Victor didn’t know what he meant by that, he didn’t pry further. He was too focused on the task he’d set out to do when he’d strategically planned their evening walk. It took a herculean effort to fake meandering. “I have a gift for you,” he said, handing Yuri the paper bag he’d gotten from the bookstore.

Yuri opened it, surprised to see his book inside. “Aww, you bought my book? You know I could’ve gotten you one for free, right?”

Victor chucked, “I know, silly. This is a special copy.”

Yuri tilted his head, curious.

“Open it.” 

It wasn’t until then that Yuri noticed a red ribbon hanging from the top edge of the book. He flipped through the pages to find a beautiful wooden bookmark. He picked it up and noticed something else tied to it on the other side. He flipped it, and he felt his eyes well up with tears as soon as he saw a golden ring and four simple words etched into the thin wood:

Will you marry me?

His jaw dropped, and he was left utterly speechless. He could feel his thoughts racing and go still all at once. 

“Yuri?” 

He slowly shook himself out of whatever state of pure, blissful shock he had just experienced. When lowered the book, Victor was already down on one knee.

“Yuri,” he said, voice tender and shaky from the nerves, “you are the greatest thing this life has ever given me. That day you stepped into my office, I knew there was something different, something special about you. It took me a while to realize that I was madly in love with you, and that’s my only regret. I wish I could have realized it sooner. I wish I could have spent more time loving you, caring for you...because you do all that for me, and more…”

At this point, Yuri was a goner. The tears were streaming down his face like a river, and he didn’t even care to wipe them away. 

“You bring me so much joy. I wake up next to you and sometimes I get scared that it’s all a dream. These past few years have felt like a dream, honestly. A damn good one. I don’t think I would’ve had the courage to go after what I really wanted in life if you hadn’t been there. You challenge me, you inspire me, you push me to be better. And I hope I never have to go through this life without you again.” 

Yuri knelt down in front of Victor, placing the book down on the ground.

“Stay with me, for the rest of our lives.” Victor took the bookmark from Yuri and untied the ring. He took Yuri’s hand in his. “Will you do that for me, Yuri?”

Yuri smiled through his sobs. “Yes, of course, yes…” Victor slipped the ring on his finger, and Yuri’s heart suddenly felt too large for his chest. 

Victor leaned in to kiss him. He cupped Yuri’s face, wiping fresh tears and gently turning his head toward some shrubbery across the way. “Smile,” he said.

Yuri shifted his gaze and immediately buried his face in his hands the second he saw Chris and Phichit behind the bushes. They were fully camouflaged with cameras in hand. Yuri groaned. He was bright red and embarrassed at the thought of being caught so candidly on camera, but truthfully, there was nowhere else in the world he would rather be. 

Besides, two could play at that game. 

After he got over his self-consciousness, he pulled Victor up to stand. “You know…you’re not the only one who had this idea…” He reached into his pocket and pulled out another ring.

Victor’s eyes grew wide. “W—wait...are you...serious?” 

Yuri chuckled through his nose and nodded.  He loved being able to surprise Victor like this. Though in this case, they surprised each other. Meanwhile, he could see Chris and Phichit freaking out through his peripheral vision. He hadn’t told anyone about this plan. 

He handed Victor the ring. Unlike the one on his finger, the gold on this ring was twisted to resemble something like rope, or— 

“It almost looks like that string you used last time...” Victor said. Yuri nodded, confirming his observation. Victor bit his bottom lip to keep from breaking down in tears as Yuri slipped the ring on his finger, but it was futile. 

“I kept it and brought it to the jewler, asked them if they could make something like it…” Yuri explained, cheeks turning redder as he realized just how cheesy he sounded. “I know we were drunk that night, but I meant it when I asked you to marry me. I didn’t expect a serious answer, but I would have done it. I meant it then, and I mean it now. With my whole heart. I love you, Victor...and I always will.”

As they held each other in the middle of that magical city, they knew that this was the beginning of a lifetime of growing and learning—learning how to love each other better, learning to hold fast when the tides of change inevitably knocked them down. Just as they had learned to be brave, to be vulnerable, they would also learn to choose joy, to each other, every day. These were lessons that only life could teach, and theirs was a story that only love could write. 

Notes:

HI. I cannot believe we did it. I started this fic as a gift to a friend, and I never anticipated that we'd make it all the way to 20 CHAPTERS. Like, wow.

Since I started this fic, I graduated from law school, passed the bar exam, started my legal career, got engaged, got married. This piece of writing has seen so many milestones. It feels strange saying goodbye to it.

I'm so grateful to every single reader. Your comments and kudos always put a smile on my face, and I cannot stress enough how much they fuel me. Ya girl doesn't get paid to do this, but I love it so much, and hearing your feedback makes it all the more worth it. I love this ship and this fandom. Thank you, from the bottom of my soft, fragile little fangirl heart.

Notes:

I post a preview of the next chapter on my Tumblr page one week before releasing it, so if you're just as excited for this piece as I am, drop by!

https://kinggeorgechan.tumblr.com

Ask box always open! Let me know what you think, send prompts, make predictions! Hell, just drop by to chat because who doesn't love making online YOI friends?