Yuuri briefly wondered about how at this exact moment, he didn't need to borrow anyone else's courage or inspiration.
It took a while, but they got there, where they are supposed to be.Together
Yuri!!! On IcePairing:
Yuuri Katsuki x Yuri Plisetsky (Yurio)AN:
This fic is not beta'd. All errors are all on me. >:D
I have to say though, I have lost my mojo for writing for quite a while and felt so uninspired for a long, long time. It's like I lived the same day everyday, inside a stagnant time capsule. Watching Yuri on Ice broke the curse. Somehow, by the end of episode 3, I found myself afloat in space with all of this unexplained joy and inspiration bursting inside my chest. This fic is the end result of that experience. :>
Better read this on AO3 LINKYOU'RE SO BEAUTIFUL TONIGHTYou're so beautiful tonight,
Like flowers dancing on a summer field,
My eyes caught with your every sway,
You take my breath away.
It was his party, a small celebration for finally placing first in his ISU Grand Prix Finale. A throng of people would purposely seek him out to congratulate him enthusiastically. The pub they had booked for the night was small and he would feel occasional bumps on his shoulder, a tap on the small of his back or some friendly squeezes on his arms. A blush would at times colour his cheeks and he would stutter an embarrassed 'thanks'. He knew he should be more confident about it. He had come a long way... they all did. He should shake the hands of the people who came out of their way to express their continuous support more confidently. He still trembled, a nervous gesture. Deep inside, a small part of him still thinks this is all just a dream. He hears Victor's laughter somewhere behind him, most probably getting himself drunk at the bar, surrounded by a mesmerised crowd. His heart warms at the idea of having Victor's steady presence near him, and of having him in the same room. Yuuri was grateful of not having to disappoint his Russian coach and having Victor in this party is the tangible proof of that. Tomorrow, he could eat Pork Cutlet bowl with him. His friendship with the latter has taken root and ran so deep he now knew not where to go without his support. He allowed himself to look back at the skating genius. Victor was indeed having a good time, drinking wine from his goblet and chatting amicably with the old Russian coach, Yakov Feltsman. Victor catches Yuuri's eyes. Victor throws him a crooked grin as he raised the goblet and tipped it at Yuuri's direction. Yuuri lets out a small laugh and gave his amazing coach a nod. He would have walked towards the man had he not caught a blonde flurry of movement at his periphery.
Yuri Plisetsky was surreptitiously making his way to the exit. 'Yurio', Yuuri thought warmly.
Without having the time to think about it, Yuuri found his feet already making their way towards the younger man. He was always propelled towards Yurio. Yuuri dimly thought how he always knew where Yurio was in the room, in a similar way as to how Yuuri knew where Victor would be. Yuuri followed. People have called Yurio a Russian Punk. There was a time Yuuri referred to the lad as the same but somewhere along the way, in the course of their friendship, Yuuri could not find himself to refer to the blonde beauty as none other than a Russian Fairy. Yuuri found his chest constricting, his own breath caught in his throat. He knew Yurio too well and he recognised the stiff gesture as the other man exited. Yuuri thought he didn't like the way Yurio's shoulders were slumped in defeat. He wanted to reach out and ease the tension of those rigid muscles. Yuuri wanted to make Yurio stay and make him feel better. Yuuri didn't have time to think about why just as he didn't have the time to spare glances at the bodies he had to squeeze through in order to catch up to Yurio.
It was his party, a small celebration organised by his family and friends, but Yuuri thought he didn't like it if the one person that mattered wasn't in it.
Yuuri opened the wooden door and felt the cold rush of air hit his face. He shivered. He was too lightly dressed for the cold night. He nearly panicked when he didn't immediately have Yurio in sight. He spun on his heels and blindly took a direction. Yuuri has spent enough time with the Russian skater and observed him enough to know his habits of wanting to be alone. Soon enough, in the corner of the Pub and under a lamp post, Yurio was crouching down, his back against the metal post. Yurio's hood was pulled over his head, his blonde hair spilling at the side of his face. Yuuri walked closely enough until he was sure his shoes were within the younger man's sight.
"You should be inside," Yurio muttered, not even sparing a glance. Yurio continued to glare at the pavement. He didn't seem surprised to find Yuuri's presence.
Yuuri's shadow spilled over Yurio's crouched form. He couldn't see the Russian's face quite clearly enough but recognised the tone of dismissal.
"As should you," Yuuri breathed.
Yurio gave a low grunt in reply.
Yuuri smiled. He thought it sounded like a whine. Without preamble, he stretched an arm and offered a hand to the younger boy. Yurio seemed to be startled at the sudden gesture but easily concealed his emotion and whispered a rude, 'whatever'. It didn't faze Yuuri... because at least now, he can see the Russian's pale face and because Yurio was accepting his offered hand and was holding on to it. Yuuri's smile was full blown now, as their hands clasped together. No matter the air of rudeness or dismissal the younger boy would exude, Yurio would never reject Yuuri. There was a sense of comfort in knowing that, similar to the way Pork Cutlet Bowls would remind Yuuri of home.
Yuuri hauled the other boy up. The corner of Yurio's hooded head almost hit Yuuri's chin and he couldn't help but giggle as their bodies pressed together. Yuuri helped the other man balance himself. Yurio glared at him before rolling his eyes in mocked exasperation.
"That's better," Yuuri grinned.
The younger man pursed his lips and stilled at Yuuri's words. He glanced briefly at Yuuri's lips before flicking his eyes back to Yuuri's raven eyes. Yurio seemed to want to say something but instead changed his mind. He threw another inscrutable look at Yuuri after a breath. Yurio searched his eyes. Yuuri can't help but be drawn to the intensity of those azure blue eyes. It reminded him of skating atop the cold blue sea. Where the description came from, he didn't really bother to figure out about. Yuuri found himself lost in those blue-green eyes and thought about how he could look at them forever and about how infinite they seemed. He lost track of himself until he felt Yurio's grip tighten and then the magic was gone because Yurio was leaning back and was letting go of his hand. Yuuri felt bereft of the warmth.
Yurio sighed. "Don't be rude. Warm your palm the next time you offer it," he says. Whatever answer Yurio found in searching Yuuri's eyes, the blonde man did not share.
"Err, " Yuuri was lost for words.
Yurio flicked a glance at him, lips tightening for a fraction.
"I guess I will," Yuuri answers, "next time." He offered a small smile. Surely there will be a next time. And soon, he hoped.
Yuuri turned, fully intending to bring Yurio with him back to the Pub. He opened his lips for an invite and was about to offer another hand but Yurio beat him to it,
"You love him," Yurio blurted out. His azure blue eyes were blown wide and he seemed to have not expected the rush of words to come out of his mouth. He gritted his teeth and avoided Yuuri's eyes. "You're in love with him," he clarified. It wasn't a question. The last sentence came out as a whisper.
Yuuri didn't need to ask just whom it was Yurio was referring to.
It nailed Yuuri to the ground he stood on. He had not thought about his feelings. He was never really one to sort out his feelings. He could've just dismissed this conversation with a hollow laugh and an insincere answer to brush it away but doubted that it is what he really wanted to do. Not when the answer stood right in front of him looking so beautiful under the lonely moon, not when the touch of clarity was finally within grasp and not when his dimwitted senses are finally being shook forcefully to right themselves. Yuuri was never truly courageous compared to this beautiful monster in front of him. He was never genuinely confident about a lot of things in life compared to Yurio. It lifted Yuuri's heart realising how Yurio always beat him. In everything.
"I'm no match to you," he breathes instead. It wasn't what he was supposed to say.
It got Yurio to finally look at him square in the eyes. Yurio just stared at him for a fraction of a heartbeat, having been caught off guard. And then Yurio snapped out of it and shook his head. He narrowed his eyes at Yuuri.
"Fine," he snapped. "I should've known you'd be this infuriating."
Others would have probably stormed off if they were in Yurio's position... but the weren't really the Russian Fairy Yurio is. He was savage even to himself. Beautifully savage.
Yurio pulls at his silken blonde hair and was lost in a trance of muttering conclusions of his own. He seemed to be more annoyed of himself more than anything. Yuuri heard some faint words that didn't make sense to him at first but the words were lost to him after sometime when he had better things to do like staring fondly at the delight of a creature that was Yuri Plisetsky.
/"Should've known the way you always look at him and following him like a stupid puppy. Of course it wasn't just a silly crush or some adoration shit..."/
"I do," Yuuri answers gently, and belatedly to Yurio's inital question. It pulled Yurio out of his musings and tirade.
"I do," Yuuri repeated when there was finally quiet. It wasn't lost on him how Yurio winced at his words, hurt evident on his eyes. He needed Yurio to understand. He needed Yurio to hear him out.
Yuuri thought about how deep his affections for Victor ran and how his simple crush turned to respect and familial love over time. During the course of Yuuri's career, Victor had been the steady wall Yuuri leaned on. Victor was Yuuri's courage when he couldn't find it within himself. Victor was his inspiration. Victor Nikiforov was already cemented to Yuuri' life. It wouldn't change anymore. Things may have changed since the very first day Victor appeared at the doorsteps of Yu-Topia Inn to declare himself Yuuri's new coach but it does not change the fact that Victor is someone Yuuri loves. Yuuri believed that every piece has finally fallen to where they are fated to be.
"I do," Yuuri confirmed to himself for third time, lost in his own musings. Dimly he heard Yurio groaned. Yuuri felt the corners of his lips tugging to form a smile, "but not in the same way as I love you." He tipped his head and looked brightly at Yurio.
Yurio scowled. His brows furrowed. He really had such bad temper. Yuuri wanted to kiss that frown away.
"Of course," Yurio finally wheezed, biting his lower lip. "Of course, you love him." He concluded as he was nodding abstractedly to himself. The Russian git proceeded to a litany of curses and deductions, completely ignoring Yuuri. Yurio's jaws were hardened.
Yuuri was confused at Yurio's reactions at first but then burst out laughing. Trust the maddeningly beautiful blonde to disregard the most important part of Yuuri's confession this night---scratch that, the most important part of Yuuri's confession in his entire life. Yuuri didn't mean to laugh but he thought no person could fight off Yurio's charms. He felt like he was in the clouds.
Yurio glared at him, feeling insulted from the laughter. He looked wounded for a fraction, but quickly masked himself with a defiant expression of disdain. He stomped off and walked pass Yuuri.
"You annoying jerk--"
Yuuri caught himself and immediately grabbed Yurio's wrist. He gave a forceful tug until Yurio halted on his tracks and was facing Yuuri. The young blonde refused to look him in the eye. Yuuri stared warmly at him, at the pouting lips and at the touch of pink on those pale pointy cheeks. The mirth in Yuuri's eyes vanished and his amused lips turned gentle as he raised his hand to allow his fingers to alight on the Russian's cheek. Yuuri caressed the side of Yurio's face until Yurio was finally looking up at him. Yurio's azure blue eyes were wide and his pupils were blown wide. Yuuri can see Yurio's feelings as clearly as his own now... but he can also see the doubt, the worried confusion.
"Didn't you hear what I just said?" Yuuri asked, barely above a whisper, afraid of ruining the magic and of scaring this Russian lion away.
"You just told me you love him,"
Yuuri's lips quirked to a grin. God, he thought, was there ever a time when Yurio wasn't this delightful?
"I did," Yuuri said because he couldn't resist it. Yurio tried to pull away from him but Yuuri was ready for it this time. Yuuri held Yurio's face with both hands.
Yurio glanced sideways, shoulders sagging in defeat. "That's it," he says lighly. "I give up."
"I also said I'm in love with you, stupid," Yuuri says warmly. Yuuri didn't find any part of himself refuting this. It sounded true and whole and it made him wish he said since the beginning.
Yurio moaned. "That wasn't what you said earlier," he complained, but he lifted his hands and tentatively covered Yuuri's hands which were holding the side of Yurio's face. There was fear and hope in the pool of azure blue eyes. There was this palpable want amongst others. Every part of Yurio calls and Yuuri finds every fibre of his being responding.
"Can you please just make up your mind already!", Yurio demanded. It was the most beautiful whine Yuuri ever heard in his entire life.
Yuuri briefly wondered about how at this exact moment, he didn't need to borrow anyone else's courage or inspiration.
He leaned down and claimed Yurio's lips for a searing kiss. And as Yurio hungrily kissed back and clutched at the back of Yuuri's nape, Yuuri reminisced how he wasn't really a match to Yurio since the beginning...
and how this must be the only thing better than winning his first ISU Grand Prix.