It had been brewing for days. A steadily growing irritation, that culminated in this. Emotions flared now, with harsh words being thrown about like they had but one intention. To mortally wound. Neither of them was backing down, that would show a weakness that would mean defeat. The both of them felt they had the prerogative, that their feelings were the ones that were the most valid. Acting exclusively on that belief.

He was twirling his wedding band around his finger. It would be so easy to just take it off. Take it off and shut him up in the process. That would be his final blow, if things got completely out of hand. Yes, that would make him the winner, and truth be told, it was something he'd been thinking about doing for some time already. Not just tonight, not just for the last couple of days, but during the last months when the words had gotten harder and the looks icier. When the sex had started to become something they just did because… Well, that's what married couples did. Had sex. Although it was more an act now, a charade to try and pretend they had some dignity left as a couple. At least that worked, somewhat. Last night, the both of them came.

Those words of his, they hurt. Although he was focused on fidgeting with that so called promise of love and devotion, that so called symbol of unity everlasting, they buried their way into him. Latching on to him. Making him feel like what they had wasn't worth the strife. It was always like that when he started, when he dressed himself in that superior persona, spoke in that mocking way. He knew just the right buttons to push to make him feel completely worthless, and he pressed all of them.

"Are you just going to sit there, huh? I'm talking to you, Yuuri! Now that we're home together, finally, is that how you're going to play things?"

He remained silent. He had a lot he wanted to tell him, but he knew from hard-earned experience that he wouldn't get the opportunity. Not unless he came up with something that would shake him, make his foundations crumble. Something that would throw him completely off balance. He started to think about it, what his greatest fear was about being together with him, but he was constantly getting cut off by another arrow-shaped retort, another slash with a blunt verbal blade. Making him stagger mentally, making him lose his edge but at the same time, making him even more determined that he would strike him. Right where it would hurt the most.

Fact is, being bombarded like this, cowering under the hellfire that was his words, made him feel like running away. He had to rein himself in, force himself to sit where he was and just take it. Take all of it. Retreating would mean that he had offered him the upper hand, carrying it over on a silver platter with a head bowed down. He wasn't going to be the one left with that satisfaction, the last word in this lament describing a relationship drowning, clawing desperately to reach the surface again. He would rather… yes, what? End it than let it happen? Yes. Something within him vibrated when he had that thought. He was terrified. Knowing what would happen if he didn't, knowing what would happen if he did. In all honesty, living through another evening like this would end him. No matter how they would end up.

"Why must you go on like this? You're always retreating, hiding inside of yourself like this. We're together here! It's not just you!"

"Together?" He mumbled the word, tasting it on his tongue. How hypocritical he was, using that word. It had lost its meaning some time ago, probably when late night texts and calls full of warmth and adoration had been replaced by a suffocating silence. When they had started eating separately, not waiting for the other to get home. When touches became scarce and impromptu hugs nonexistent.

That word, 'together', it called him to attention. Infused him with even more confidence. He was going to do it. He just needed one more push before he could take the leap. He tried, took words in his mouth that he hadn't ever thought of using. "All the nights you told me that you were going to be home, and left me alone anyway… Was that us being 'together'?"

He paused, taking a breath. His opponent was silent now, telling him that he had succeeded. He had toppled him, there was no need for further advancements. But the levee was broken, the waters too strong to stop at this point. He continued, getting carried away by the current.

"Sure, right now, you're home! I'm home! But this is not 'being together'. How do I know that you're not fucking someone else when you're not home? When you're 'working' like you say you are?" He pretended to be brave by ending his execution with a scoff, still fiddling with his ring. He kept his facade of strength, though he was dying inside. He could feel the love waning. Bleeding out of him like an open wound. But even then, he made sure that he was still not looking at him. He couldn't. He knew he would break if he did.

He flinched due to the sound of his hands slammed down on the coffee table, harsh and almost painful to his ears. The glass had been hit with enough force to cause it to crack. Mirroring him and his feelings with an uncanny precision. How about that.

"LISTEN! How many times have I told you, it's you! It's just you! It's always been you! How dare you accuse me of having someone else!"

He was probably looking straight at him, the way he was leaning in told him this but now, and now… he'd lost the confidence he had. He didn't dare to raise his gaze. To meet his eyes. His energy was enough, it was invading him. Telling him that they were standing at the precipice.

"And you're quiet again! I can't believe you, saying something like that and thenㅡ"

"Is this how it ends?" His voice low and weak now, having completely lost the venom from before. His eyes were fixated on the ring he was still twisting and turning. He felt a sickening feeling to his stomach, having used those words. What if they were true? An omen of what was to come?

The shadow of him, the looming presence of him disappeared. Along with it, the body heat that had radiated from him, that had overpowered him, did the same. Suddenly, he felt cold. Numb. Half a man.

"Can we fix this?" He allowed himself to let his guard down, understanding where they had taken each other. Where they were going. His voice had lost its bravado, it was quivering violently. But not as much as he did on the inside. "Can't weㅡ"

"No!"

With that sharp word in his ear, his muscles began to move without a second thought. The fingers of his opposite hand gripped the ring, and started to slide it off. The anger that fueled him was completely gone, now replaced by an overpowering emptiness.

He didn't know what felt more excruciating. The ring still warm in his hand, the sound of his lover leaving, or hearing the sharp metallic clink of a matching ring being thrown across the room.

He took a large mouthful of his drink. The memory still haunted him, still feeling fresh and open without a scab. How he wished for it to heal. Or better yet, what if… He stopped himself, taking another swig. He'd been playing that game ever since. Ever since his finger became bare. Naked and unclaimed.

What if? What if there was a chance to make things right? To rekindle all of the things that once had been theirs. To relive their meeting, their falling in love, their promises. What if he could remember something, anything, of those things that actually had been good, instead of focusing on all of that he wanted to forget. Oh, what if? The things he would do to make it so. He missed him, he had been feeling an indescribable void ever since since that day. When tempers ran high and words ran low, when something united got divided and left to fend for itself. Which, naturally, it didn't. It couldn't sustain itself. Not without all its components, all its parts.

He knew that letting things go, it wasn't what he did best. Not his forte. He was a person who let himself know that he would remember every painful detail, probably for the rest of his life. Because that was how it was going to be, most probably. He would end up more miserable than he was now, romanticising about something that never was supposed to be and thus, live alone and maybe even die alone too. He had a chance at love, and he'd lost it. It was as simple as that.

He put his forehead on his arm, feeling his glasses dig into the root of his nose. A dull feeling, one he chased to experience for the rest of him. Yes, the alcohol was doing what it was supposed to, to a degree. The slight heat that enveloped his ears, the tingling sensation in his hands, the way his vision was just a little more blurry than usual… All of that was good, but why couldn't it do what he'd wanted it to do, just soften his mind a little bit?

The day had been a disaster. Coming to Europe, to France, and thoroughly disappointing not only himself but his company had been another thing that he was hoping for the alcohol to take care of, somehow. How could he ever explain to his superiors that his presentation had been refused, they wouldn't be able to take on the western market due to him being tongue-tied and awkward? Falling on the finishing line.

"Another, please." His English was slurry now, he noticed. Just as well, he wanted nothing to do with anyone. Not tonight.

"Is this seat taken?"

He didn't respond, still with his forehead on his arm thinking about all of the things that should have been, all of the things that suddenly never was. If it was possible to redeem anything, and if so, what? Where would he start?

He felt a hand on his arm, which made him turn his head. Reluctantly.

"Are you doing okay?"

A man had lowered himself to his level, leaning a little against the bar. Resting his head in his hand, the one that wasn't touching his arm, looking straight into his eyes when he had turned them his way. Speaking with an accent he couldn't place.

He inhaled, feeling self-conscious that he had to be approached by someone that… well, breathtaking, when he was far from it himself. Piercing blue eyes, meticulously styled hair that was silver in colour despite his young features and a smile that briefly, just briefly made his mind go blank. In retrospect, that was an amazing thing. Forgetting everything, if only for a second.

"I… I'm fine…" In that short moment when his head forgot all about his shortcomings, he was. He really was, so the answer was truthful. In part.

"Is it okay if I join you?" He had placed himself in the seat next to him so, apparently, it was? At least to this apparition painted in silver and blue.

He peered a little at his newly found company. Well dressed, seemingly well-built too. He was strangely familiar, for some reason. He decided to ask, just to get that question out of the way.

"Have I seen you before?"

"Well… I work in advertising, one might say, so… Maybe we have!" He winked a little before ordering a drink in fluent French. Before turning his attention back to him. Those blue eyes intently watching him, making him squirm a little inside. "What do you do?"

"I'm a video game designer."

"Huh!" He sounded surprised by hearing his answer. Maybe he had been confirmed of some kind of stereotype, or maybe he wasn't really familiar with that line of work. It was too hard to tell. But he continued with the same cheery voice as before. "So… why is a, um, Japanese," he posed it as a question, "video game designer doing drinking alone at a hotel in Paris, then?"

"Making a fool out of himself, I guess."

"For being Japanese or being a video game designer?" He had a little cheek to his voice, like he was amused by the minimal amount of banter he had started.

He emptied his glass. That was actually a good question. As a video game designer, he'd made a fool out of himself, true. But being Japanese, thinking that his company's kind of game would get picked up and released to the Western market… How about that. Another thing to feel downhearted about.

"I'm on vacation," the blue-eyed intruder said with a smile, like that piece of information was important to share. When he noticed that an answer wasn't coming, he chuckled. "I'm Victor, by the way."

"Yuuri."

"That's a man's name where I'm from too. How about that!" Victor paused for a couple of seconds, and when he realised that he wasn't going to be graced with an answer for a second time in barely no moments at all, he touched his arm again. "Yuuri? Can I buy you a drink? Can you handle one more, you think?"

Oh, Asians and alcohol. How quaint. "Yes. I can handle one more!" He realised that he sounded too sharp and corrected himself immediately. "I'm sorry, I… Yes, thank you." He put his forehead on his arm again, with a sigh. He was just doing it over and over again. Making a fool of himself.

"Great," Victor replied, seemingly oblivious to what just transpired or maybe just not caring, and said something about vodka to the barkeep. Beaming when two small shot glasses appeared and got filled. "Yuuri, za tvoye zdorovje! Cheers!" He emptied his glass immediately, in one swift move. "Ooh, that's good!"

The little exhale he made, that sound, made his heart flutter. "You're Russian?" He stopped himself from putting the glass to his lips, posing the question. Feeling somewhat glad over the fact that he wasn't drinking alone anymore.

"Yes, I am. Drink, Yuuri. You don't want to give the angels such a big share. They are always offered enough."

xoxo

One drink became two and he wasn't sure, but there was probably a couple more after that too. It felt like it anyway, how his inhibitions started to falter and how he got warm to the extent that he had to undo his tie and slightly unbutton his shirt.

"Yuuri?" It felt like he was closer now for some reason, leaning in more, touching him more. Talking more. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Uh-huh." He had lost the ability to hear if he was talking in a distorted manner or not, probably three drinks ago.

"Would it be strange if you joined me? Up there?" He nodded towards an open space, in front of a grand piano.

"What… for?"

"Just a dance." He ran one hand through his hair, suddenly looking serious.

Yuuri didn't realise that he could look serious, he'd been sporting expressions ranging from cheery to humorous all night. But no, to him, it wasn't strange. Not at all. What was strange, was his answer. He felt that even through his intoxication.

"I'd love to."

"Amazing. Here, take my hand. I'll ask him to play something suitable. Something French." He was a wonderful support, with an arm on standby to grab his waist, should he stumble. He briefly let go of his hand when they reached the piano and returned just as quick. "Are you familiar with Debussy, Yuuri?"

"Some. I… I danced ballet before."

His eyes narrowed for just a fraction of a second. It was like he froze in mid-motion. Just for a brief moment, like a heartbeat or two, before pulling him close with a gentle tug. Speaking into his ear.

"You're just full of surprises, aren't you? I'll lead."

The pianist started, it was a slow and longing tune. Unknown to him.

"You… you dance well, Victor." He was rewarded a little chuckle in response. Yuuri had noticed that he tended to do that, just laugh softly when he found something amusing. The three-something hours they had spent together had taught him that about him, at least. That soft laugh, was something that he felt good hearing.

He got dipped, just a little, before getting pulled back in. Close to Victor's impeccable frame. He was classically trained too, that was a given.

Something within him started to stir. It took him a while to understand what that uncomfortable feeling came from, but when he did, he leaned his head against Victor's shoulder. Making sure to speak softly, almost inaudibly, against him. Sadly, with a trembling lower lip.

"Oh, how I wish you could be him."

Everything became a blur after that.