We took this way too far. We went from friends to lovers in no time. And suddenly, we were nothing anymore.
Yuri Plisetsky's name could be found in the dictionary as the definition of 'crazy'. Yet, I couldn't help but fall for him over and over, again and again. He was so beautiful, it made you angry not to own him. But no one ever owned Yuri Plisetsky; not me, not anyone. One could even say he didn't own himself. He was so wild he couldn't even be tamed by himself; not that he'd wanted to anyway.
You'd meet him in the club every Friday night, high on some shit and drunk off his ass, wiggling the same at strangers in hopes they'd take him to the dirty stall in the back of the club and fuck him senseless. Most of them did take him to the back, but I knew none of them ever did it for him. No one made him scream the way I did and that, I took pride in.
He was a piece of art most just chose to admire while I loved to rip him to shreds and rearrange him. The way he desperately rubbed against random strangers in hopes of finding satisfaction was my design.
The only issue was that we wouldn't work out. We were so beautiful together that it seemed some fucked up god had built mechanisms in us that prevented us from being together for we would have been too damn perfect.
My body had moved on its own and suddenly I found myself replacing random stranger number who-the-fuck-even-knows-anymore behind Yuri.
"Kitten", I spoke in his ear.
The music was deafening, some badly mixed techno set. I would've done it better.
He hated the nickname. He was still Russia's ice tiger after all. He'd always be a kitten to me, though. Young and unruly, as if the few years separating us really made a difference.
Only now he seemed to realize it was me and that was where he began to make the difference. While random strangers only ever got his light show, I always got the premium service.
His body lined up with mine perfectly. But then he brought some space between us, so he could turn to face me. He was off-beat.
Truth was the great ice tiger of Russia had begun to lack elegance; in the rink and off the ice. His movements were often sloppy, he tripped, he fell – his career had reached its peak two seasons ago and now, he was already headed south. Yakov wouldn't train him again next season if he didn't get his mind straight soon, he'd already told him that. Yet, here he was, Yuri, partying his career away.
But that shouldn't concern me, he wasn't mine to worry about. Maybe that would sink in if I only kept repeating it to myself long enough.
"Your place or mine?"
Yuri's words were slurred and half of them were lost because instead of just pausing to speak in my ear, he kept dancing. But I understood him nonetheless.
Right, Nikolai wasn't there anymore. He wouldn't have watched Yuri become what he was now, but he wasn't there anymore to supervise the kitten.
18 was such a cruel age; not grown- up enough to take responsibility for his actions, but legally so. It was a crime in itself to let the boy live on his own.
"Yours", I mouthed, lying to myself that I wanted to go to his because we had more privacy there, and not because I wanted to see how he lived.
Somehow we made it out of the crowded club and into the cold night air of Saint Petersburg. The first thing he did was light a cigarette.
"Nasty."
I couldn't help the comment that escaped my lips.
"You're nasty, Beka."
I hated that he still called me that, but then again, he also called Viktor Vitya because that was just his way of talking. He most likely even called his random strangers by their diminutives.
Rearranging him – it seemed like a reasonable thing to do tonight. Damn my lousy heart for wishing it would last longer than just a few nights, though. Damn my heart for wishing I could somehow still save him.
"Don't gimme those puppy eyes", Yuri slurred.
'Don't give me that… everything', I thought but kept my thoughts to myself and gave him a smirk instead.
"But I know those work on you."
It took three cigarettes and a half until we finally caught a taxi. Friday night in the city – busy times for taxi drivers.
The address Yuri told him made my heart sting. I'd been there so often now, but only once since Nikolai died. Somehow I'd always taken Yuri back to my hotel room. Partly because a hotel room had held a certain appeal and partly because I wanted to be the one to throw him out and not the other way around. Maybe going to Yuri's tonight was a shitty idea after all.
"Beka", Yuri said as he let his head fall onto my shoulder for support. "I'm tired."
"I know."
"Good."
It went without saying that he wasn't talking about needing sleep. He was tired of living, anyone who knew him could tell. That was why he chose to surround himself with strangers usually. With them, his manic behavior wouldn't be weird, they wouldn't suspect anything to be wrong.
He got clingy on the taxi ride. He whispered love into my ear like he meant it. MDMA made him do that, still it was nothing but empty words in the end. When he came down none of this would mean anything to him. I kept telling myself it was like that for me, too.
I paid the taxi driver and then carried Yuri to the door. He wasn't asleep but he wasn't awake either.
"Keys?"
"Pocket-"
I tried both pockets of his jacket first but of course, they had to be in his pants. His fucking tight pants.
I set him down, one arm still wrapped around his waist, so I could try the front pockets.
He moaned like a bitch at the touch.
"So desperate?"
There was nothing sexy about his deranged state. The only thing about him still was the fact that he was Yuri Plisetsky. If fucking him for old time's sakes made me a bad person I'd have to take that blame tonight.
He gave another moan as an answer and awkwardly pressed closer.
"I can't find the keys like that, Yura."
He froze. I'd stopped using the name after our breakup. While I'd kept using the pet names, the diminutive of his name had seemed too intimate for me to still use it. I couldn't stand the intimacy – it implied a relationship we didn't have.
I finally found the key in his right front pocket and unlocked the door.
To say that I wasn't ready for the sight that greeted me was an underestimation still.
I wanted to ask him what the fuck this mess was and when he'd last cleaned but I didn't. It was none of my business, especially not when I was just here to fuck him. I'd probably not even stay until morning.
Our clothes were lost on the way to Yuri's bedroom, and so was my mind.
I left after he'd fallen asleep although my heart screamed at me to stay. But Yuri was a lost cause, I wasn't the knight in shining armor to rescue the princess. The princess would have to save herself this time.