OKay lul i forgot to cross post this here.
Đâu cần cả tám triệu người tất cả lướt qua nhau mỗi ngày, chào vội - cười nhạt - rồi thôi, chỉ cần một người chịu ở lại và quay nhìn về phía sau khi mình nấc khẽ hai tiếng "Đừng đi." Chỉ cần vậy thôi mà, có được hay không?
There's no need for all eight billion people to cross paths everyday with a quick greeting - and insincere smile - and then leave. There's only need for someone willing to stay and look back when you quietly plead, "Don't leave." Just that, is it possible to have?
- Extract from Buồn Làm Sao Buông by Anh Khang.
Yuuri hated waking as much as he habitually sleeps late. So he woke up slowly, like a flower that will barely peak its petals to the world, unsure and hesitant. That isn't to say that he wakes up delicately, though.
(Because aggressively swatting his phone and groaning like a very pissed off bear is far from soft and delicate.)
Most days, he wakes up and trudges to the bathroom indifferently. Some days, like today, he woke up to find the ceiling a bit higher than expected. Then he walked with a sudden weight in his step that was a bit unfathomable. The mirror in the bathroom felt a bit off, and Yuuri could have sworn that his eye bags were even worse than usual. But he shrugged it off, and brushed his teeth because it was really too early for an existential crisis, in his opinion.
When he emerged to the kitchenette, he would make tea and put on a pot of coffee for Viktor (that is if Viktor felt the need for it). The hum of the coffee machine alongside the electric kettle seemed a bit off too, that day. It was loud, exceedingly louder than usual, and he wanted it to stop. He had an an urge drown the noise somehow, so he stopped and leaned against the counter because perhaps there were some sort of strange logic that he could reduce the noises of the appliances with his stillness.
It was 5 minutes or perhaps more - Yuuri hadn't particularly paid attention - until both the kettle automatically turns off with a pop and the coffee finished, leaving behind the still rumbling water to echo off the walls of the apartment. It was as if its sole purpose was to remind him of the emptiness of air and the strange hollow sadness that has been clinging around him since he woke up.
Yuuri could almost laugh at that. Empty sadness - intangible and invisible, just like the exact explanation to why everything was a bit strange and a little unwelcoming. He mused himself to personify the objects surrounding him: the mugs he retrieved from the cupboard seemed angry at him when it loudly taps the marble counter; the sneering thump of the wooden floor against his socks; then, the overpowering buzz of the light atop of him. They seemed off to him.
It remained that way until he finished his first mug of tea at the little chairs at the counter. It was the one he never savoured because of the intense bitter notes that made him cringe through the lingering caffeine aftertaste. By then, he concluded with a sigh that perhaps the unwelcoming atmosphere could be worse - the ceiling could decide to hate him and bestow upon him the drips of water from the upstair neighbour's water pipes.
Viktor appeared after Yuuri's first mug and contemplation on the sentience of electrical appliances. Unlike the surroundings, he was quiet as he lifted the coffee pot to help himself to a steaming mug of concentrated liquid Wake Up Call. Then, he made his way around the counter to take a seat next to Yuuri.
But Yuuri always craved his second mug of tea, and Viktor had reminded him that the water from the kettle was probably still warm enough for another steep. Yuuri hopped off his seat to refill his mug and almost lazily plopped back into his previous place, hugging both the refilled mug and his knees closer to avoid the morning chill. It also made him feel a tad less lonely.
The first kiss of that day was started by Viktor, after he had drained half of his coffee and has redeemed some sort of wakefulness that enabled him to smile. It was a little sleepy, but Yuuri could sense itss radiance all the same.
"Good morning," Viktor said. He brushed a hand through the bangs on Yuuri's head and gave him a kiss on his forehead, then rested the side of his head on Yuuri's shoulder afterwards.
"Good morning," Yuuri whispered back and leaned his head over to rest atop Viktor's, burrowing his face into the silver untamed mess of a hairstyle that smelled like the musk of their shared shampoo.
"How are you?" Viktor turned upwards to face him with an intense and careful stare that made Yuuri feel his cheeks running warm from the amount of concern that was laced in it. Fatigue was in Viktor's voice, however, and it made Yuuri want to hold him until they were both smiling from their stomach grumbling from the lack of food.
But Yuuri didn't feel like he had that privilege that day. Instead, he stared into his mug, feeling a distant guilt at Viktor's disappearing smile working its way up his throat, "I'll be fine."
There were no verbal responses. Perhaps Viktor was tired. Maybe he didn't have a response because Yuuri did just shut him down. Or maybe he had just given up on this conversation altogether because Yuuri really doesn't know how to continue this-
Yuuri stopped his wandering as Viktor shifted slighter to take another sip of his coffee before reaching a hand out in front of Yuuri' was coking hs head with a gentle plea graced upon the upturn of his lips. Please, Viktor seemed to say.
His palm stayed open for a while. It took Yuuri that while to realise that it was an invitation for him take his hand, and Yuuri was touched.
Admittedly, Yuuri couldn't deny his request when Viktor was so damn lovable this early.
The warmth from Viktor was spreading, slowly, up Yuuri's arm as he caressed the back of his lover's hand. The heat from his body was seeping through the woolen sweater that Yuuri was wearing, and it was comforting (like the fur on Makkachin's head which was undeniably soft and much too fluffy for anyone to resist touching).
"Bad day?" Viktor asked, bringing him out of his musing.
Yuuri looked around the apartment again. The hanging lamps were off in the living room area; the kitchen was small and full of things they needed to make breakfast. And there were no noises - the kettle and coffee machine were off, and the buzzing light seemed to have died down some time ago.
There were silence, but it was calm and indifferent as opposed to the previous aloofness that Yuuri felt was directing towards him. It felt… better, like he belonged in this setting - this foreign country, this city, this home - and it was nice. And Viktor holding him was nice. He felt welcomed, and loved. It was better, he realised. So he shook his head in response to Viktor's questioning glances.
"It's okay, now." Yuuri finally gave his brightest attempt at a smile to his partner.
He felt fine, at least, when Viktor was sitting next to him with the most ridiculous mug and gaze that Yuuri could have sworn was adoration.
Yuuri breathed out a long breath, "Thank you."
Viktor took another sip of his coffee, and Yuuri took another of his tea. There was still some sort of distant melancholy in Yuuri's head, but it was alright. It was far enough for him to somehow ignore. That was comforting enough.
Their hands remained closed as they carried on with their separate drinks. Yuuri smiled against the rim of his mug.
He was fine. He would be just fine that day.
A/N: We all have that day when doing everything is such a chore. And sometimes it's nice to have someone to just be present to have that albeit minor comfort. I feel like that is addressed really well in that quote I got above.
And i'm sorry if this entire long ass piece is literally just Yuuri on this constant level of wariness and literally describing everything around him and is very very boring. I've been pretty tired because I was quite upset about some issues lately, so that transpires into this strange fic about stuff in the kitchen that can be mad at you.
Title taken from Lover, Please Stay by Nothing But Thieves