theglassheart: [ Fanart ] : { Google Images } (Default)
[personal profile] theglassheart
If Yuri thought the night before this one never ended, he was wrong. It's this newest night that feels like it never ends. Oppressive, pressing, darkness, digging into his eyes, his mouth, his nose, his ears, while Victor breathed heavy and easy in the adjoining bed. Yuri had tried to sleep. Turning this way, turning that way, staring at the backs of his eyelids toward the ceiling, pressing his face into his pillow. He tried and tried and tried (and most of all found himself trying not to let his breathing race so fast it might wake Victor).

The evening had been bearable, if not entirely enjoyable or unenjoyable. Less stressful than the one before it, if only marginally, while Phichit and Victor drug him from place to place. Too late for museums or anything with middaytime, there had been rather quick tours through the Yu Garden, the Oriental Pearl Tower, and the Jade Buddha Temple, and in the cases of closed doors, pictures with their iconic buildings. As well as everything else that looked interesting between them.

It took forever, and then it was just over.

He'd enjoyed some of it, but none of it stuck for long.
Not even the late calls from his family and Yuu-san had.

Not with the Free Skate looming. Not with every single person he was skating with gunning for where he was standing, and every person watching wondering if he could somehow pull out o f himself the miraculous performance that had seemed to come from almost nowhere. Like it hadn't even belonged to him. How many times had he performed Eros and it'd never been that?

How badly would it be when (if - when) tomorrow couldn't match it?
What would they say about him, then? What would they say about Victor, then?

Yuri would fall asleep only to startle awake what could only have been seconds later, nerves sharpening with each new jolt, until it felt like ice was splintering more and stabbing up harder through every part of his veins, until each second asleep seemed to only contain the certainty he would fall, he would fail, he would forget. He could never reach whatever he'd touched for that brief two minutes and eighteen seconds.

It'd been a fluke. He'd only dreamed it. He couldn't explain it. He couldn't sleep.
Every minute in that dark reaching, but, also, clutching his pillow.
Eyelids clenched tight, or eyes open, staring at the other bed.


Over and over, he counted his breaths down.
Over and over, he repeated that he had and he could.
Over and over, he told himself this was all in his head.

Over and over, he slipped right back as soon as it finished.




That morning comes at all only changes the color of the sky.

Breakfast is a blur, piling food into himself, like maybe it would give him any solidness. Weigh him to the seat, to the ground, to reality. It should be impossible, but his head feels even heavier than his body. Hot water had shaken some tension from his skin, but none at all from his mind. It hadn't mattered whether he was in the bed, in the shower, in a booth, at a table.

His foot tapped under the table, all the way up to his knee and thigh, and in the moments he could make himself stop, his fingers drum against the side of his thigh or the seat instead. Desperate to try and keep it from Victor's sight, when Victor won't stop looking at him, smiling like that, talking about how Eros was perfect, and what he should do as soon as they arrived at practice.

How would he look when he realized Yuri couldn't reproduce what he done. Couldn't even look at the things that compounded to get him there. Words Victor'd said, but entirely in a different way than he'd said them. That Yuri'd blown them out of proportion and reality out there, during Eros. What would he do if Yuri couldn't place at all?

What would he do when everyone no longer was cheering his name as the reason Yuri had done so well? When there would only be that gut-wrenching pity on every face and Victor's name was smeared with his failures the same as his already was? Why was he even going to put himself through that? Why was Yuri?





Practice is a comedy of uncertainty.
He doesn't even want to return to the wall and Victor during it.

His feet hardly feel like they belong to his body, and thinking about love doesn't produce his love, his family, Hasetsu, or Victor, it brings up more and more knots in his guts. It tears up the ice under him with images of last year, of every fall, of every day spent in his bed, avoid being awake, avoiding the rink, Celestino, Phichit. The flip of what that could -- will -- look like again.

Except at home. Except with his parents, and Minako, and Yuu-san, and his family.

Their sad faces, their disappointment, as Victor's back went vanishing away in the background of his loss.

Even the ease of his long earned and long loved turns seems to be slipping from him when his focus won't pull itself together. At full speed it makes it a fumble of something he hasn't fumbled in half his life, even if he doesn't fall. It's better the next time, and gone the third, but it still there. He can do this. He can. He's done it how many hundreds and thousands of times.

It makes him sloppy. It makes him reckless. It makes him stubborn. It makes him hesitate.

It ends all too soon. The alarm sounding for them to come in, and he trails in.

Date: 2017-05-06 09:48 pm (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by me (who does he take after)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp
He's watching Yuri closely, heart dropping when Yuri's eyes do, but the explanation that comes is simple enough, and there isn't anything that looks like Yuri when he's hedging. "My pillow, huh?"

Maybe that's not so bad. He sidles up to the thought like a man on a building ledge, eying it like it might be an open window he can slip back through to safety. Not that he really thought –– even drunk he doesn't think he would try anything –– but it's nice to know he hadn't violated Yuri's trust without even being aware of what he was doing.

(And Yuri is very comfortable, and nice to hold. He can well imagine not wanting to let go if he didn't have to.)

"Russian?" It isn't that it doesn't make sense –– it does, he still slips back into it sometimes even while sober, when he's very excited or distracted or especially angry –– but there's something in the way Yuri says it, a little wry, that makes him curious. "I hope I didn't say anything too strange."

That drunk, who knows what he might have said or confessed to? Anything. Everything. All the things he's set aside because he wasn't supposed to be thinking them or wanting them at all.

At least Yuri doesn't seem too put out by it all. That's probably a good sign, even if he can't quite seem to relax again, yet.

Date: 2017-05-07 02:27 pm (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by cherrytini (*blush*)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp
Yuri looks exhausted.

It's the first thing he notices when Yuri finally looks back up at him, meets his eyes, and Victor can see clearly the dark circles stamped into the pale, delicate skin just below his eyes, the slight glassiness to his eyes themselves beneath his lenses. He needs some good rest tonight, at the very least.

That blush, though ... that has nothing to do with being tired, and everything to do with something Yuri is remembering clearly that Victor can't recall at all, and he's torn between frowning at the words or smiling at the pink flush on Yuri's cheeks. (It's just so cute, he's so rumpled and sleepy and adorable, how did he ever survive this?) "Not after tonight?"

That could mean, well. Almost anything. But tonight, he'd declared his feelings. Tonight, he'd made those confessions. So, the other night, did he ... ??

He needs some clarification. "What do you mean?"

Date: 2017-05-08 02:15 am (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by me (we're grown now)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp
It's not that he doesn't believe Yuri, precisely. He always believes Yuri, because Yuri has never, to his knowledge, outright lied to him in this whole time they've been together. Avoided certain truths, sometimes, perhaps, but opted for flat falsehoods? The very idea goes against the core of Yuri's character.

So his skepticism has nothing to do with thinking Yuri is lying. Skepticism may not even be the right word: he's not sure what might be, when his eyes are softening, and his fingers are untangling from his own hair to reach and trace along Yuri's jaw, as delicate as if they were trying not to crush a flower's fragile petals. "I don't think I could ever forget I was talking to you."

Even drunk out of his mind, he couldn't forget that. It's written too deeply in him, now: soaked into his blood, carved into his bones, seared into his brain, inked across his heart. Every part of himself that never realized it was missing its other half until Yuri wandered into his field of vision, that now would limp, lethally wounded, if Yuri were ever to remove himself. In all honesty, he'd think being drunk would make it even worse, everything he'd spent so long shoving aside, pushing down or away, ignoring, stubbornly reminding himself he couldn't have all suddenly without his conscious self doing the pushing, the ignoring, the silencing.

He might have said any manner of things, but he's absolutely certain he never lost track of who he was saying them to.

Date: 2017-05-08 11:59 am (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by me (Default)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp


He wonders if his heart will ever stop listing with the angle of Yuri's head when he leans a little into that feather-light touch, thinks: probably not. It would be like no longer falling towards Earth if he tripped, or no longer floating to the surface after diving into a pool: it's been a fundamental physical law to him for so long he can't imagine how the world could work without it. He can't resist it anymore than he can resist shifting to lean a little closer, eyes soft on Yuri's face, even as Yuri is glancing down and away, and trying to find words.

The things he said that night, that are sounding more and more like maybe he was just being honest for the first time since arriving in Hasetsu. Being mistaken for talking about Eros, which is a reasonable assumption to make, if Yuri wasn't going to leap straight to the actual conclusion. Eros is Yuri, and how he feels about Yuri, and what Yuri did to him. Choreographed straight from memory, with all the longing and desire and fire he could put into it. His own undoing, that he rewatches now almost every day, helps Yuri perfect, gives him all the tools he needs to make sure Victor never recovers.

Maybe he hated himself a little, with it. Taunting himself with everything he couldn't have. Making it more effective, and thus more destructive, throwing himself on the fire to stoke it because if Yuri seduced him, Yuri could seduce anyone and everyone. He's said that more times than he can count. He always thought Yuri understood. Eros was never a made-up fairy tale. Where else could it have come from?

But Yuri is still picking words, while Victor leans a little nearer, hand lifting and turning to trace knuckles over Yuri's cheek until his fingers slip over the shell of his ear, tuck a few strands of silk hair back behind it. "What do you think now?"

That night is gone. He doesn't remember it, and if Yuri had even caught a glimmer of the truth, he wouldn't know. He would care if that night had gone more like this one, if he'd kissed Yuri and Yuri had let him, only to ignore it all in the morning, but that's not what happened, if he believes Yuri, and he does. He can readily believe that, blind drunk, he was lost in thoughts of wanting Yuri and not having him, and loving Yuri so much it felt like the force pushing the blood around his body and the air in and out of his lungs. He can even believe that half of that was in Russian, considering he's already found a few words tonight he hasn't been able to define correctly.

It's a little embarrassing, but not that much: he doesn't care who knows or what he says, when it's all the purest truth that he knows. It's only embarrassing that he did it, blackout drunk, the night before the Cup of China began, when Yuri really only needed to focus on skating. It's only a little embarrassing that Yuri clearly didn't believe him.

But. Now.

Date: 2017-05-08 12:56 pm (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by me (let's go to the ocean)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp
"I'm sure it wasn't you I was frustrated with."

He's absolutely sure, in fact. Even without remembering that night, or knowing any of the specifics, he's absolutely, one hundred percent, bulletproof in his certainty that if he was frustrated at anyone, it wasn't Yuri. He hasn't been frustrated with Yuri in months: not since he came to Hasetsu, not since that morning on the beach. Frustrated about Yuri, maybe. Frustrated with his feelings, certainly. With himself, on a nearly daily basis.

But not with Yuri. Yuri has been everything Victor imagined he could be and more: has worked as hard as Victor could ever ask, and harder past that. Has a wealth of skill hiding just behind his insecurities and uncertainties that, when uncovered, flourishes into heart-breaking beauty.

More than that. He's funny. Sweet. Sensitive. Serious. Bright, beneath his poor opinion of himself. Victor cherishes those moments spent just sitting or walking or talking together, about anything and everything, feeling like just normal people without the weight of their world settling on their shoulders, as much as he burns when Yuri tosses him that sly glance at the start to Eros, as much as his heart aches during Yuri on Ice.

It's certainly possible, maybe even likely, that he was frustrated the other night. But not that it could have been with Yuri. "It was probably just with myself."

That's familiar, a known quantity. He's memorized that conversation with himself, his better angels and his selfish, petty demons, and he can believe it floated drunkenly to the surface with poor Yuri blaming himself the whole way. That's a thought that deserves apology, and he leans down to press a kiss where his fingers just were, right beneath Yuri's ear, while his hand smooths down the column of his neck, to his shoulder.

Pulling back with a faint smile, lifting a thumb to touch Yuri's temple. "You look tired."

Exhausted, really. Like he can barely keep his eyes open, blinking myopically at Victor even from through his glasses. "You should get some sleep."

Except that reminds him of something, too, and he pauses, thinking back, trying to follow the thread of that thought to ––

A sudden breaking dawn of a smile, brilliant and self-congratulatory. "Did you say you dreamed about me, before?"

Date: 2017-05-08 02:38 pm (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by cherrytini (:D???)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp
"No."

It's drawn-out and delighted: nooooooooo. Victor's smile widening the more embarrassed Yuri looks, the more annoyed he seems with himself for letting it slip. If it was just a normal dream, he wouldn't care, just like Victor doesn't care about anyone else who may or may not be dreaming about him.

Yuri dreamed about him. Yuri dreamed about him in ways that made this, tonight, seem like it might just be another one of those dreams, so Yuri dreamed about being kissed, and touched, and Yuri dreamed it about him. Victor. That's the kind of dream he meant, and that he's trying to pretend wasn't. "That's not the kind of dream you meant! Don't lie, Yuri, that's bad manners."

Halfway between being coaxed and crowed, as he's shifting towards Yuri, without stopping this time, hand going back to his shoulder to oush him towards his back so Victor can beam down directly into his exasperated face. (He shouldn't find this so cute, should he? Yuri's obvious annoyance, loss of patience, aggravation with Victor, but he does, it's like wine, delicious, addicting, and he can't get enough.)

Wheedling as he's putting fingers beneath Yuri's chin to make him look back up. There's no hiding, here, not from this: Victor wants to see it, soak in it, savor it. This unsuspected triumph. "You dream about me. Like this."

Disbelief with a shade of wonder coloring the delight in his voice, even as he's smugly celebrating. When, and how? Why? How did he never know about this, never guess? He wants to know everything. All of it. Every single want Yuri ever had with his name stamped over the top of it.

He'll do his best to fulfill them all.

Date: 2017-05-08 04:04 pm (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by me (Default)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp



"You are charming."

And he does look it. Charmed. Gazing at Yuri with deep delight, looking like someone just told him he won a million dollars out of the blue, without even putting a name in for it to begin with. He didn't mean to, and it makes Victor want to laugh, and kiss him again, and draw out every one of those dreams Yuri thought he shouldn't be having. Part of his different, but not different, this feeling that hasn't changed, even if the reality around it suddenly has.

All of it bursting bubbles in Victor's head, sending rational thought, once again, for a long arcing ride somewhere off into the horizon.

Who needs thought when Yuri has been dreaming about him. "I'm glad it wasn't just me."

Wasn't. Isn't. The sudden clarification that it isn't just him, anymore. Not him, alone, pining and miserable. Not him, bare feet away from Yuri, but unable to reach out and touch him. Not him, trying his best to put it aside to be the best coach, friend, confidante he could be, to earn Yuri's love that way, if he couldn't have any other kind.

But it isn't just him. Not anymore.

Hand cupping Yuri's cheek, now that he's gained Yuri's attention, the pad of his thumb running lightly over that warm patch of pink just below the rim of his glasses. "Don't worry, Yuri. I don't mind."

Date: 2017-05-08 04:53 pm (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by me (I want you (and I want you bad))
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp
It's almost immediate, this answer. Could never be anything else, when it's the truest thing he knows. "All the time."

Night after night. In St. Petersburg. Around the world, at competitions. (Memorably, and miserably, nearly every single night back in Sochi. He's not sure he'll ever go back to that hotel.)

Maybe they took slightly different shapes, once he came to Hasetsu, but not by much. If anything, they were more prevalent than ever, fed by all the hours and days and weeks and months he spent with Yuri.

Dreams about that night in the ballroom, Yuri's hand on his skin and the sheer joy of movement. Dreams about how it all should have ended, with someone's back hitting a wall and fingers against burning skin, until the inability to breathe woke him up, slick with sweat, heart racing.

But dreams, also, about spending the day together: Yuri just there, next to him, or just in front of him. Occasionally, Yuri missing, and Victor desperate to find him, chasing down long hallways and city streets.

Yuri coy. Yuri blushing. Yuri certain and sexy. Yuri shy and smiling. Every shade of Yuri that he's been so fortunate to see, have, hold, touch, visiting him over and over again until he was sure he'd lose his mind or snap under the strain of longing. Certain, sometimes, that one more jolt awake into the world where none of it was real would break his heart for good. It never had –– his heart always proved a little more resilient than he'd thought –– but there were times when he was sure he could stand no more of it.

And now Yuri's here, warm beneath him, looking bewildered at the very thought. Bemused enough that Victor leans down to kiss him, gently, before answering the other half of that still unasked question. "Yes, like this."

Like this, and so much more. He could no more keep from dreaming about Yuri than he could keep from falling asleep.

Date: 2017-05-08 06:38 pm (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by cherrytini (but my world is only you)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp
He could lie here and watch Yuri's thoughts play out across his face for hours. Flushed skin, shy eyes, the way Victor can see right before it happens how he plucks up his courage to lift his hands, slow and careful, to touch him.

Slowly enough Victor thinks his chest might crack from the force of this held breath. So shy Victor does his best not to move, afraid that even shifting an inch will frighten Yuri back off, like a rabbit sprinting from a sudden noise. All he can do is wait, and watch Yuri's face, until there are careful fingers against his cheeks, curling there to brush the backs of knuckles over his skin. Fingertips in his hair. Brushing along his neck. Making his breath come out in a shudder that matches the way Yuri's fingers tremble as they travel, making tiny discoveries everywhere they stop.

Half his vision a silver mist that he doesn't dare shake out of his face, even if he's slowly shifting, now, a little more comfortably over Yuri, elbows braced on either side of him, letting his fingers unfurl into soft dark hair, trace the edge of his ear, the hairline at the nape of his neck. It's slow, and focused, and he doesn't mind waiting while Yuri concentrates on each small, uncertain step, even if his touch is lighting fire under Victor's skin and it would be so easy to lean down and blow on this match, make it explode.

But he doesn't. Won't rush this. Yuri, touching him. Yuri, finding his way to understanding. Yuri, who hasn't had all the time Victor has to get used to the idea that this is how the world works, now, that this is what's meant to be. Yuri, who didn't know that Victor loved him, wanted him, dreamed of him, has longed for him for so long. Yuri, here in his arms, soft and sleepy, his sharp intent growing a little fuzzy around the edges now.

Yuri, who probably wouldn't believe Victor if he said what he was thinking. That he has never been so deeply, bone-deep happy, in his entire life, as he is right now.

But the thought makes him smile, anyway.

Date: 2017-05-08 09:23 pm (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by cherrytini (what if we ruin it all?)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp
I love you so much everything else in the world disappears.

Cheesy, but true. Yuri's thumb runs along his cheek, and Victor can only smile more at the feel of it, the way Yuri's starting to smile, now, too, as if in reflection, or reaction. I love you so much it feels like I'm drunk all the time.

So maybe it's not so strange that, actually drunk, he'd spent the night professing his feelings and clinging to Yuri. Stranger is the fact that Yuri let him, and strangest of all this newest, most incredible truth: that Yuri feels something similar, that Yuri dreamed of him, wanted him, too. Even if he didn't have the words to say that's what it was. Even if he still isn't sure what to say or do.

It doesn't matter. Nothing does, except having him here, almost two full years after the first time he imagined having Yuri alone in a hotel room, and two years has changed a lot. He would never have expected this expression on Yuri's face back then, but now he doesn't think he would trade this open, absolute trust shining from the face below him for anything, even the wicked smiles and brilliant desire of that night.

All of it hatching slowly in his chest, clambering up the ladder of his ribs to curl around his heart the way Maccachin, tired out and affectionate, curls around him on the couch after a long day. This smile, on Yuri's face, and even if Victor can guess why it's there, he can't help himself, the giddy, foolishness of it. "What?"

As much a laugh as a question, without any interrogation to it at all, only shifting his weight so he's lying comfortably half to Yuri's side, and half just over his chest, thumb tracing the curve of his ear. "Do I have something on my face?"

Date: 2017-05-08 09:57 pm (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by me (Default)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp



"What? I do?"

It wasn't all that long ago that Yuri had no idea how to tease him back, took Victor's antics at face value more often than not. Six months ago, he still might have sputtered and waved his hands, fervently repeating no, no, no, nothing's wrong, everything's okay! while Victor laughed at him.

But today, he poked the top of Victor's head, right in that spot where he's worried about his hair thinning, and he's not flushing or turning panicked now, only grinning back up at him, in on the joke, happy to play along while Victor sighs. "I can't believe you won't help me with it, Yuri. How can I recover from this?"

Turning his head to find the thumb that had just been at the corner of his mouth, the fingers on his cheek, to kiss them, lightly, and threaten to catch one carefully in his teeth, before leaning to dig his nose into Yuri's neck. Wanting to swarm him. To blanket him. To nuzzle into his neck until he's laughing and breathless like he has been a few times tonight and like how Victor can't seem to get enough of, now that he knows that Yuri's ticklish, that Yuri will giggle and squirm and try to get away without really trying at all. "I can't believe you'd just laugh at me, you're so cruel."

Date: 2017-05-08 10:43 pm (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by me (Default)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp



That squeak of laughter is so perfect Victor wants to do it again, tug it out, until it's in every word and breath Yuri takes against his hair and ear. Yuri's arms wind around his neck like it's already the natural, only place for them to be. Yuri's hand at the back of his head, making him sigh happily into the crook of his neck, a huge and contented huff of breath. It couldn't be better unless Yuri's fingers were sliding through his hair again, or along his neck, but that's a selfish thought, when this is already so perfect.

Beyond perfect. Whatever the next possible thing is, as close to heaven as he's ever been. "Are you calling me cruel?"

Maybe he is, a little, when those words are bracketed by kisses roaming up Yuri's neck, and the faint nip of his teeth at the column of muscle there, and at the lobe of his ear. "I'm insulted."

No, you're not, comes Yuri's voice in his head, from only moments ago, calling him on his exaggerations, deflating his antics. Not sorry. Not insulted. Not wounded to the core. Honestly, in this moment, he's not sure he can remember feeling anything at all aside from happy.

Yuri in his arms. Yuri who loves him back. Yuri who wants him. Yuri who isn't letting go of him, who hasn't run away all night. Yuri who Victor is sure wouldn't love him at all, if Victor actually were cruel. Yuri who tolerates his foolishness, and has a smile that fills his head like straight oxygen.

Yuri who he, really, honestly, may never actually let go of, again.

Date: 2017-05-09 12:10 am (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by me (who does he take after)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp
That gasp is the most perfect sound he's ever heard, soft and burning and surprised, and all he wants is to hear it again and again, until it's the only thing in his mind. The first a pleasant surprise, the second a smug triumph, as Yuri's head tips back and his arms tighten, laughing at him, breathless and amused, although Victor shakes his head at the words that come out.

"I've been insulted."

Just because he doesn't show it, or lets it roll off his back more often than not, doesn't mean they don't, on occasion, land and sting. He's even been insulted by Yuri –– by Yuri's silence, by his detachment, by his fickleness –– even if he's forgiven it all now, forgiven it long ago.

(But that man thinks only of himself, and it makes me sick to see you play pretend-coach, and still playing at being a coach? stick like burrs and worry at him, annoying him out of nowhere.

Yakov, especially. He's been with Yakov for years, thinks of him almost as a father, and Yakov has yelled and threatened as long as Victor's known him, but this –– this ––)

Mouth twisting, even against Yuri's skin, before he pushes up with a smile that's not quite as bright as it had been, a little wry for all its steadiness. "But not right now. You found me out."

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theglassheart: [ Fanart ] : { Google Images } (Default)
勝生 勇利, Katsuki Yūri

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