CH1:
Cutting Rose Petals
Victor landed a triple axel heavily yet gracefully, his skates slamming into the sharp ice with enough force to send shards that sparkled like glass flying up to his stress-tensed jaw, glinting alongside his angry, silvery eyes. His arms were not the slender, arching swan necks that the world was familiar with, but had become rigid and inflexible like steel rods of cold hard metal. He did not have the light, flirtatious grin and slightly sultry air about himself, but was fueled with a burning passion that created somewhat of a dark, menacing aura.
Simply put, Victor was angry.
No.
Victor was straight up pissed.
Like when Yuri was being harassed and bothered by other skaters while Victor had been on the side laughing it up with his old coach before realizing what was going on, pissed.
Like when Yuri had told Victor that after all they had been through (after all they had lost and gained and fought through) that they should part ways immediately following the end of the skating competition, which sent Victor into a pitiful crying fit as if he were an angry, spoilt child who didn't get his way, pissed.
Like all the little moments when people had misjudged and underestimated Yuri, assuming he was a common, worthless, average skater with an overweight body and a weak mind, pissed.
Take your pick.
And why was he so angry?
Yuri was late. Again. Like always, for the past few months. Without any legitimate reason as to why. Plus, the young student was also none too surreptitiously hiding something, with his blatant efforts to make it seem as if he had no secret at all and his increased blushing and avoidance of eye contact. It was irritating Victor to no end. A good coach knows his students. He knows their pasts, their goals, their secrets, their fears, their hopes and dreams and aspirations and everything in between. For a coach to not know the secret that a student of said coach was so stubbornly hiding… well, it was just unacceptable, wasn't it?
Also, Yurio was being disruptive and interfering, still attempting to get Victor back into one of two things. It was either competing again, or training Yurio instead of Yuri (neither of which were going to happen any time soon if either Yuri or Victor had anything to say about it). This was also grating on Victor's already mostly raw and bleeding nerves that were screaming with aggravation and demand for relief.
And the cherry on top of the frustration sundae was the all the adoring fans. Dear God, the adoring fans. The adoring fans were becoming increasingly relentless in their attempts to seek out both Victor and Yuri for their signatures, personal possessions, and advice. Victor, naturally, kept his flawlessly brilliant smile and welcoming words at the front, but he was harbouring a twitching irritation and a slight, embarrassing hatred for the people who treated him like a golden god instead of a human being. It bothered him even more when they dragged his bumbling, anxious student who was barely more than a child into the picture.
Victor sighed heavily through his nose and came to a screeching halt, showering slivers of ice into a small pile in front of him, his skates squealing in protest. He bowed his head and glared at the tops of his gleaming, ebony skates, his ivory hair offering a sharp contrast as the long bangs fluttered to cover his razor blade eyes.
"Late." He spat darkly, his already poor mood deepening exponentially. He was referring to his lovely young student, Yuri, who had (as the now daily trend currently showed for the past, oh, I don't know, month or five) decidedly not shown up at any time even remotely close to the planned hour for his daily skating practice which was scheduled strategically between the boy's vigorous workouts and long hours of sleep. Victor, however, spent all day and night perfecting technique, studying other competitor's skating routines and training himself to be a proper coach to his… friend.
Victor grimaced at just how pathetic his mental pity-party was and slammed a fist onto the plastic siding of the rink like a hammer against a nail. The echo created by the blast was sharp and explosive in the empty building, and Victor relished rather moodily in its tone. Victor had been waiting over forty-five minutes, hoping that his pupil had simply lost track of time during his early morning jog, or maybe woke up late and was rushing to practice, and was about to burst right through that door any minute with a red face, babbling apologies and his head bowed low to the ground. Victor looked up, half expecting the door to actually fly open to reveal his student gasping, out of breath and sweating fiercely from his sprinting but, alas, no one was to be found. Victor groaned, massaging his temples as he leaned against the blue and white plastic siding, tilting his head back to relieve his neck pain, which had been aching and burning through his soul as of late.
Where.
Was.
Yuri.
Also, why was his student's now constant tardiness so distressing, and irritating, and enraging, and infuriating, and aggravating, and… and… and…
"Иисус Христос." He muttered in his native tongue, his agitated emotions getting the better of his normally schooled expression and practiced exterior. It was unreal just how much trouble Yuri could be sometimes. From random emotional outbursts to being infuriatingly cute and distracting, it was a wonder that Victor was still sane.
Well. Partially sane, anyways.
Victor pulled himself upright, determination glinting like lightening in his bright eyes. He was going to find Yuri and drag him onto the rink if he had to. The Russian skater sighed, sagging suddenly with defeat. In all reality, Yuri had probably just slept in.
Unless he was just purposefully enjoying the warmth and softness of his blankets and would rather be there than join Victor on the ice. Victor straightened back up and skated off the ice with purpose, plopping down on a bench where he began untying his laces. He checked his phone for the millionth time, hoping that he had just missed a text or a call saying that maybe Yuri was sick or otherwise unable to come in.
Victor froze, one skate in his tight fist, dangling by its strings, the other resting on the floor peacefully while his phone suffering from a slow death of suffocation by its owner's slim fingers.
What if Yuri was sick?
What if he had been in an accident?
Victor suddenly felt ill as guilt hit him like a big ugly, eighteen-wheeled, transport truck.
He was wasting time complaining, and whining (albeit internally) over Yuri's laziness and unwillingness for hard work, even though the poor boy was working himself harder than Victor had ever seen anyone even attempt, while the kid could be lying on the ground somewhere bleeding out. Or struggling to open the door to the hot springs that they both called home because his fever-weakened arms trembled too much. Or hunched over a bucket, tossing up his insides, all alone in his bedroom, crying in pain. Victor dropped his phone, not bothering to catch it as it clattered loudly to the floor along with his skates. His heart was racing extremely loudly like a drum in his ears. His face burned and his hands trembled as adrenaline flowed through his veins in response to the terrifying images that gripped his conscious.
Wait.
What was he doing? His Yuri could be bleeding out on the streets or vomiting his insides out in his bathroom for all he knew! He should be well on his way to finding Yuri and figuring out what happened, not sitting here wasting time stressing and guilt-tripping! Giving himself a mental shake, Victor tugged his shoes on quickly, leaving his skates in a pile on the floor, not paying any mind that they could easily be taken by anyone who happened to walk into the rink. He then flew out the door, not bothering to even throw a coat on to protect himself from the sharp cold.
As he sprinted along Yuri's usual route, Victor found himself glancing everywhere he could, searching for ambulances and fallen dark-haired boys with shining eyes, his ears listening intently for sirens and shouts and cries of dismay or alarm… or pain.
He ran faster.
Victor received the odd looks and side whispers, several young girls even attempted to catch up with him, each screaming about autographs and pictures, but Victor didn't care. He had his heart, mind and soul set on one thing— one person, really. His feet pounded on the concrete beneath him as he demanded them to continue onwards past the known limits of man, the cold air chilling him to the core where the paralyzing fear had not yet frozen him, his breath coming out in crystalized fog.
He found himself gasping for breath once he reached the top of the hill where Yuri's humble abode and the Katsuki family business lay gently awakening with the slowly rising dawn. Hands on his knees, posture hunched, Victor paused to catch his breath, slightly regretting his lack of forethought when failing to have spent the two precious seconds to snatch his dark blue jacket that was so toasty and cozy…. Victor grinned wistfully at his own musings. Straightening and arching his back slightly against a backdrop of golden morning glow, Victor speed walked, attempting to seem nonchalant to any guests or employees that may have witnessed his hasty entrance.
"Victor, dear, how are you?" Yuri's mother asked kindly. Her soft, round face lit up in a bright beaming smile and familiar chocolate eyes shone with fondness. Victor nodded politely, bidding her a good morning as he slipped past her, his socked feet almost flying out from under him in his speedy retreat that required pinwheeling arms to maintain balance. The gentle woman shrugged merrily, perkily exclaiming that "boys will be boys," whatever that meant. Victor was a grown man. A responsible, respectable, well-rounded, grown man, thank you very much.
On that note, the ever-graceful grown man Victor found himself faceplanting on his way down the hall of Yuri's bedroom. His feet went flying out from under him and he slid on his increasingly bruising bottom past the bedrooms, skidding to a stop just in front of the bathroom.
"Срань господня!" The Russian yelled at the hardwood floors that had just done literally nothing to cushion his painful fall. Rubbing his abused bottom, Victor clambered to his knees frantically, using the wall as an aid to get off the floor. He was about to make the journey down the hall in search for Yuri's room when he heard an alarming sound that made him sink back down onto his knees.
It was like a sob.
A really soft sob.
Not just any soft sob. It was a heartbroken, lost-and-desperate, red-faced, snot-dripping, fat tears, ugly crying, desperately hushed and dampened for the fear of being found kind of sob.
And it was coming from the bathroom.
Victor's head snapped towards the direction of the room curiously, noticing that the sliding door was partly open. Intrigue and dread peaking, Victor scooted across the floor on his knees, attempting to be both discrete and quiet, however he was painfully aware that he was neither of those two things. Once he reached the door that separated the hallway from the bathroom, he slid as close to the partially open door as he dared, attempting to dampen the sounds of his heavy breath, desperately straining his ears to hear the voice that belonged to the pitiful cries.
The voice whispering along with the teary cries was shaking with emotion that was both raw and powerful, but also heartachingly beautiful. That was when Victor realized that it had to be Yuri behind that door. It had to be. He'd recognize those whispering stutters and shaky sniffles anywhere.
Refocusing his scattered thoughts, Victor slowly turned his head to peek through the crack between the door and the wall. His eyes struggled to adjust to the bright white light that was filtering through the window from the early sun. At first, he didn't see anyone, just a fluttering white curtain and deep green bushes reaching up from outside the windows set above the sink that was partially visible from the crack between the doors. A clean, fresh bathroom. Nothing was out of the ordinary.
Until he saw a line of red paint oozing across the white tiled floor, coming from somewhere outside his field of vision.
Then he realized that the red paint was far too liquid and runny to be paint.
A shadow—no a hunched body came into view.
Victor could make out pale skin... dark hair... what is that?
A rumpled white sleep shirt…?
Victor's muddled mind slowly started knitting together pieces of information he was witnessing in front of him, but he didn't really understand what was going on until he raised himself up in order to peer over Yuri's shoulder to discover what the boy's attention was so stubbornly fixed on. Then he saw Yuri.
Specifically, Yuri's arm.
More specifically, a long silver blade gleaming ferally against satin-soft skin that reddened and puckered in response. Thin lines of red quickly dripping priceless life out the delicate veins of precious blood. Victor's eyes widened and his heart thundered in his chest like a bird wishing to break free. Yuri... his Yuri was... was...
Victor blinked uncomprehendingly at first. Then the darkness of reality slapped him in the face like a barbed metal baseball bat.
He saw stars.
No. Victor slumped to the ground, legs losing the ability to stand. His legs gave up on supporting him and slid out, angled at his sides as he sagged lifelessly.
NO. His hands turned into claws that pushed across his face and tangled in his hair as if attempting to keep a tight enough grip on something would change the faint and flickering, unreal image that stood before him.
NONONONONONO—
"Why?" a hesitant, emotion-ragged voice whispered. Victor blinked in confusion, momentarily believing that the voice was directing the vague question to him.
"Why?" the voice—Yuri—repeated.
"Why. Why. Why, why, why, why, WHY. I shouldn't... useless… why, why, why, why am I... don't deserve... worthless..." Though Victor only caught snippets, he felt he caught the gist.
His jaw tensed, eyes going hard. How dare they. How dare they. How dare anyone tell this… this… this absolute gift of a human being, that he wasn't worth… that he didn't deserve... How could someone look into such pure, beautiful eyes and say such horrible things... Victor clenched his fist, biting hard on his lip in disgust. Some people were just so...
Then it really hit him.
Yuri was doing it. Now. Like, right now, right now. He was lowering that God-awful blade to his beautiful skin.
Victor stared at the floor with a stunned expression. What was he supposed to do? What could he do? Bust the door down like a cop from a cheesy movie and scare the ever-loving crap out of his room-mate-of-sorts? Wouldn't that create a dent in their…relationship? Should he leave him alone and address the problem passively? As he contemplated the issue he faced, Victor had distracted his gaze from Yuri. Hearing a pained gasp, Victor's attention immediately grasped onto the image of a boy marking his skin, painting the floor in red.
"Боже мой!" Victor practically shouted, throwing tact and grace to the wind as he slammed into the door, belatedly remembering that doors in Japan are slightly different from other countries. You know, because of the fact that they SLIDE TO OPEN, INSTEAD OF PUSHING. This accident resulted in a loud crash as Victor barreled head first into the door, bouncing off the hard surface. Recovering quickly, Victor didn't pause to gauge the reaction of the poor kid (who must be thinking there was a bar fight outside his bathroom door) before sliding the thin door open so hard, it rattled on its frame. For a moment, he stood in the doorway, his arms bracing against the doorway to hold himself up, sweat pouring down his face, his eyes burning with anger and worry.
"Stop, stop, STOP во имя Бога стоп!" He shouted after catching his breath, wildly throwing himself on the smaller figure in front of him. Yuri hit the deck with a strangled yelp that would have been comical, had the situation not been so dire. Victor ripped the stained knife out of the smaller boy's hands and sent it hurtling across the room. Both winced at the clattering sound it created when it slammed into the wall.
"What are you doing? ты в своем уме?! Я не понимаю!" Victor was practically screaming, face turning a brilliant scarlet, eyes becoming suspiciously wet. Yuri stared up at Victor in awe from an awkwardly suggestive position under the Russian skater.
"You kn-know I h-h-have n-no ide-a wh-what y-you're saying..." Yuri stuttered softly, still able to blush like a blooming pink rose in embarrassment at his awkward position. Victor, who had been sitting on Yuri, throwing his arms around in the air and ranting in Russian, had immediately frozen in place, realizing he was probably terrifying his best friend.
"Oh God. I-I'm sorry…. I…I…" Victor struggled to breath, feeling as if he were drowning in air, while starving for oxygen at the same time. He scrambled off of Yuri, falling backwards on his bum and awkwardly scuttling backwards until his back hit the shower stall with a harsh thud.
"I didn't mean to... I was just trying to... please, I..." Victor trailed, his gaze captivated by the thin, red wrists which had been abused and were now being neglected by their owner. He felt so disoriented, so out of place. Yuri sat up, hands bracing himself on the floor, his shoulders hunched up to his ears defensively. It broke Victor's heart to think that he was the reason Yuri was so drawn in and nervous.
"I-it's... okay." Yuri stuttered, not meeting his coach's eyes. He pulled his knees up to his chin, wrapping his arms around his legs and burying his eyes into his kneecaps. Victor felt his heart shatter at the image.
"Yuri..." He whispered quietly. Suddenly he heard sobs and frantic gasps from the little ball of misery and anxiety in front of him. Victor sprang from his spot on the floor and practically threw himself on Yuri, who squawked like an eaglet, arms rushing up to catch Victor before he faceplanted onto the floor. Victor clutched Yuri close to his chest, burying his nose into the fluffy dark hair, memorizing its soft clean smell.
"Why?" Victor whispered, voice cracking. Yuri looked up in confusion, but Victor just held on tighter. "Why would you... why? It's like cutting rose petals… why would you do that?" Yuri didn't answer, but chose to sigh contentedly into Victor's neck, his shorter arms wrapping around the taller man's torso, dragging bright red stains across the other's athletic wear.
"Who said... Who told you... told you that?" Victor stammered, his voice catching in his throat, unable to repeat those horrid words that Yuri had whispered to himself. Yuri pulled back, staring with soft eyes up at Victor.
"Wh-who s-said what? Wh-what are you t-trying to say?" he asked patiently, roles switching between members of the odd friendship. This thought pained Victor. He let out a bitter laugh and dropped his forehead to Yuri's thinly clothed shoulder, reveling in the warmth.
"Who told you that you are worthless?" he blurted out so quietly, he thought Yuri might not have heard him. The tensed muscles and lack of breathing told Victor otherwise.
"I... no one in particular..." Yuri trailed off, fiddling with the ends of Victor's silky hair. Victor reached up to gently grasp Yuri's wrists, which were dying his light hair pink with crimson life, and pulled them to his lap.
"Who?" his rough voice begged, eyes bleeding with emotion. Yuri bit his lip, looking down.
"Seriously, I don't even remember their names...I- I just... They were dumb... schoolyard bullies, faceless people online— it d-doesn't matter who said it... or what they said... it just…sticks, you know? It sticks... And I guess with all the things I've been... I've been losing… I don't handle loss well. Or failure. Or anything negative really. And you and-and everyone else are just... just s-so good while I... I can't do anything..." Yuri trailed off, his throat becoming too tight with emotion to say much else.
"Stick? What does that even... why does it stick? Who cares what they think? They're wrong anyways!" Victor exclaimed, suddenly releasing Yuri's wrists as if he were burned when the other boy winced and hissed at the pressure his injuries received from Victor's white-knuckled grip. Yuri placed his small palms over Victor's lips to stop the ceaseless apologies, blushing when Victor boldly kissed his hands.
"It's... it's okay, really it's fine I-I don't care what they think, not really." Yuri looked down, dropping his hand onto his lap. He flinched when warm, strong hands gripped the sides of his face, raising his head. Dark chocolate met skyline blue.
"Don't look down. Don't be ashamed. Don't berate yourself." Yuri opened his mouth, about to argue that he wasn't berating himself, though he had done something disgusting, but Victor silenced him with one raised finger.
"You've done something scary, something that breaks my heart, but you've done nothing that you should be mad about or embarrassed over. Are you listening?" Victor demanded, tapping Yuri's cheek when the boy's gaze drifted to the side. Yuri gave a sharp nod, snapping to attention.
"You don't believe me." Victor realized sadly, hands dropping to Yuri's shoulders. Yuri shook his head quickly, arms waving defensively in front of him.
"O-of course I b-believe you, Victor! Wha-what do you mean—"
"Yuri don't lie, I can tell when you're lying." Yuri's sad smile dropped completely and his now-dried wrists fell to the floor. A moment of silence spread between them, giving Victor the chance to wonder just where Yuri's parents were. From all the shouting and falling and slamming that had happened in the bathroom, it would have been reasonable to believe that a mature, responsible adult would come running, seeing as the child of those responsible adults was last seen in the bathroom and their idol was last seen heading in the direction of the— oh. Oh.
That's why they hadn't come.
Victor's face glowed red.
"Hey... Yuri..." Yuri looked up expectantly and Victor was once again taken by the boy's feminine features. From his soft skin and hair to his large eyes and lips, his face hardly passed for male.
"I was wondering..." Victor trailed off, swallowing hard. "You know..." Victor looked away. "You know you're... important…right?" Yuri's eyes widened.
"I... what?"
"I heard some of the things you were... you were saying when you... when you were... doing that... and you said... well it sounded like you didn't think you, well, mattered." Victor blurted out. He felt ridiculously flustered and found himself unable to find the right words, which was an unnatural feeling for him. Yuri stared up at him with the awe and wonder that seemed more fit for angels and gods, than a babbling, blushing coach. Victor flinched when Yuri threw his arms around him and crawled into his lap, his actions much louder than any words he could have possibly said.
"Without you so much would change. You can't do something like that. You can't just eject yourself from this world like that. So, what I'm asking is why would you want to?" Victor asked, his arms falling naturally around Yuri's narrow waist.
"I... I mean, no one really... No one really..." Yuri had his face pressed into Victor's red stained shirt, his words muffled into oblivion.
"What was that?" Yuri sighed in response, turning his head sideways so he didn't have to see Victor's face while still keeping his own face uncovered, therefore was easier to hear.
"Ugh, it— it sounds so... childish..." Yuri pouted, looking self-conscious as he wrapped his arms around himself in a pseudo-hug.
"No reason to do this is childish. This is no childish act, Katsuki Yuri." Victor argued sternly. Yuri sighed and tried again to convey his reasoning.
"No one— God, this is so stupid sounding, seriously I sound like a teenage girl who can't get a boyfriend… no one needs me." Victor felt his soul crash, his heart plummet and his breath shudder. "I mean, it's true that I don't actually do anything to contribute to the world." Victor stared down at Yuri in confusion. "Honestly, if I weren't here... literally nothing would change." Yuri didn't seem to notice the dark pit of emotion his coach was falling into because he paused with a finger to his chin as he gazed to the side thoughtfully. "Well… that's not entirely true." Victor breathed a sigh of relief. Thank Go— "Maybe you would have some more free time without a whiny brat pulling you down by the skate laces so you can't actually enjoy yourself in anything, and maybe you'll coach Yurio. He deserves it. He'd be really happy if you coached him. He wouldn't show it though, you know how he is. Hey, you should coach him, Victor. You probably won't if I'm still here though. You don't leave things unfinished like that. Right Victor?" Yuri looked up with such heartbreakingly innocent eyes full of so much pure emotion, Victor wanted to cry.
"Oh, Yuri..." Victor pulled Yuri as close as he possibly could, clinging to his pupil as if he were life itself.
"Oh, Yuri, you mean so much. So much. I would never... Yuri, I would never…how could you ever think..." Victor placed his hands on either side of Yuri's face and lifted the boy's head, staring into his eyes with fierce passion. "Never say you don't deserve my coaching or something stupid like that. God, Yuri, you deserve the world! Can't you see that? I love being your coach, I love teaching you and learning from you! Can't you see that? How can you not see that?" Victor felt warm wetness sliding down his hands. His eyes widened as he realized that the warmth was Yuri's tears cascading down his fingers.
"Oh God! What did I... Did I do something... I'm sorry! I—" Victor stuttered, only to be interrupted by shaky laughter. He looked up to see Yuri, eyes shining, tears pouring and still, he had the energy to laugh.
"No, no, no! You- you did no-nothing wro-wrong." Yuri shuddered from his tearing up episode, patting Victor comfortingly on the shoulders. Victor inwardly groaned. He was the one who was supposed to be consoling Yuri, not the other way around.
"Yuri. I did everything wrong." Victor chastised himself with a whining voice. He squeezed Yuri close, his face pressed into the front of Yuri's white shirt.
"Wh-what—"
"You spent how long believing that you weren't... weren't anything? How long? And I didn't notice? What kind of coach am I- what kind of friend am I—" something like velvet was covering Victor's lips again. But this time it wasn't Yuri's hands. Once Victor was effectively silenced, Yuri pulled back, breathing heavily, his face and breath heated. How out of character of Yuri. How surprising of Yuri. How completely and wonderfully Eros, of Yuri.
"You did... nothing wrong." Yuri's voice was raw with emotion and fury, only emphasized by the small, stabbing hands on Victor's chest. Victor looked down at the little tornado of emotions and fury that had planted itself on his lap. What was happening? Why was Yuri not mad at him? Why was Yuri not blaming him?
"But I should have—"
"What? Should have-have followed me all over the place, like-like-like some kind of-of lost puppy or something?" Yuri demanded angrily. Shocked at the sudden outburst from such a docile, calm person, Victor blinked, frozen in place.
"Should you have, like, watch-tched me? St-stalked me?" Yuri's voice seemed to be rising in both pitch and volume to amazingly loud and impressively high tones.
"What- no! Yuri, come on, I didn't mean it like that—" Victor scoffed, only to be cut off.
"Which means that you're b-both honest and normal." Yuri interrupted. Victor cocked his head in confusion.
"Normal p-people don't stalk th-their friends. Even if they are acting suspic-icious." Yuri clarified, a slight smirk settling on his face. Victor grinned, pressing his face into Yuri's hair.
"Still, I should have noticed—"
"Did I act much differently?" Yuri interrupted, voice suddenly bold.
"...sorry?" Victor pulled back, cocking his head like a confused puppy, much to Yuri's amusement.
"I said, did I act any differently? Lately... lately have you noticed me speaking differently, acting differently- anything like that? Have you noticed me being any different than how I was when we met?" Yuri clarified while simultaneously confusing Victor even further.
"I... I don't... you mean like..." Victor flailed for words. "No. No I don't think so." Yuri nodded at his answer.
"And can you wager a guess as to why that is?" Yuri whispered, fiddling with the hem of Victor's shirt. Victor looked down at his lap, blatant confusion written across his sharp features. He bit his lip, brow furrowed in a clear display of concentration.
"I don't—" Victor started, obviously not understanding. Yuri huffed in irritation and butted in with an explanation.
"It means that I've been like this since before I knew you. That means there is no way you could have possibly figured out something was going on. There was no way for you to know that this isn't how I normally act." Yuri said softly, hoping his words would sink in to his distressed friend. Victor, however, seemed to still be floundering for something to say, his expression clearly expressing his self-loathing. Yuri forced Victor to look at him, holding the other's face between his small hands.
"It's not your fault." Yuri told him with a grave expression. "It's not. Your. Fault." Victor's brilliant cerulean eyes filled with glistening tears. Yuri grinned knowingly, tightening his arms around his coach. Victor pressed his face into Yuri's shoulder, his tears cascading down the smaller one's back.
"Vic...?" Yuri started with concern, feeling Victor shaking in his arms. Then little giggles erupted from beside him. "Um... Victor are you...?"
"This is a bit backwards, isn't it? Aren't I supposed to be comforting you?" Victor muttered, his arms wrapping around Yuri's waist. Yuri grinned in response.
"I g-guess you c-could say that." Yuri shook his head. "B-but someti-times... it's better t-to do things together... r-right?" Yuri chuckled nervously, lying his head on Victor's chest, seeking peace and comfort. Victor marveled at how perfectly they fit together and how just like a warm, downy blanket Yuri was. How soft Yuri's hands were. How delicate his features were. How deep his eyes were.
Victor shuddered as he realized that he could have been to losing such a special person.
AN:
Hope you enjoyed it! I'm expecting I'll be posting the next chapter soon, so stay with me, people, hang in there.
Feel free to drop me a review and let me know what you think, I'm open to criticism, if I suck, let me know, if I'm awesome then definitely let me know (just kidding!). I apologize for any grammar or spelling mistakes. English may be my first language, but I still struggle!
I'm still deciding on where I should go next with this, so let me know if you have any awesome-tastic ideas. I love collaboration!