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I Am The King Of Thieves

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The Broken and The Damned

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IV

Chores


Three.

It had been three weeks since his stay in Yokohama. Three weeks since he decided to take a break from the intense competitions, three weeks since he told Yakov his sudden departure.

It had been an enjoyable experience ever since; a new and cozy home, new people, new language he had to settle in and Yuuri as his loyal companion. They'd been to the movies together, dinner by his own apartment or out in ramen shops (it became his favourite) and Viktor watching the raven skate with all his might. It might ended up sloppy in the end, but recently he had been adding the fluid movements as a part of his motivation to put his own skating to work.

Yuuri was, indeed, a wonder.

Not perfect, but still beautiful in his own way. Although whimsical and full with oddities, but Yuuri was the most human despite the flock of perfect skaters back in Russia. And though Yuuri was what he could described as socially awkward at most, or a stuttering mess with face constantly showered in blushes; messy and clumsy ― not just by skating, but the way he led his daily life; yet determined and bright whenever he wanted to be.

However, that day was not the case for sunshine and bees.

Viktor knew Yuuri was at home. He'd heard the raven if he was to leave home due to the loud crash upon his exit. Sometimes because of haste, sometimes because of a foreign impatience and temper ― Yuuri was a college student, it was typical for uni people to act so brash. Well, because that was how their life were, he supposed? And occasionally, not that he would wanted to tell his neighbour and friend, he was thankful the apartment had rather thin walls that he could hear the yells belonging to Yuuri.

Or the thud thud thud of his footsteps pacing through and fro, as if he was in dilemma.

Makkachin howled a whiny tone toward his own silence, as he propped himself against the couch whilst waiting for the familiar tone to come. He hoped for a high-pitched yelp or a string of cusses hanging in the air. Just like usual.

Nothing.

"Hmm, Makkachin. . . I wonder what Yuuri has been up to lately. . ."

Makkachin barked, and wagged his furry tail in eager to show his own curiosity too.

"You're curious too?"

The dog barked again, padding against the floor in circles as his sign of impatience.

"Let's go to Yuuri's home then!"

It was strange. Usually, Yuuri was the one to come and visit his own abode. It felt strange to knock, not the one to greet at the doorstep. He suddenly felt nervous but feeling Makkachin prancing around his legs and barking calmed him for at least a bit.

One, two, the silence was eating him alive.

"Makkachin, I think Yuuri's not ho ―"

The door flung open, a tad harsh and far too quick to the Russian's liking. Out of pure shock, the older man flinched ― his grimace turned to pure disappointment once his striking blue eyes landed upon the tedious brown.

Tedious, like the exhausted state Yuuri had been.

Bags under the honey brown pools, his own colour faded from his skin. A body odour that told Viktor the raven had not bath for at least two days, and clearly a buzzed state from too many rounds of caffeine. Yuuri slouched in his pose, trying to crack a smile but was too tired to do so. His glasses was absent, surely the raven could not even bother to realise the fact that his vision was pure shit ― but whatever.

"Vi ―? Hey. . . C-Come in. . ."

Somehow, Yuuri's state surged a powerful desire to drag him to bed.

Viktor huffed, his arms akimbo and blue eyes squinted to give out a judgmental look. "Yuuri, how long have you been working?"

"One. . . Two days? Can't remember, don't care. . ." The shorter male dragged himself farther inside his own home, leading his way deeper into the living room on which Viktor was met with disaster. He tried not to gasp, he really did, but the abrupt pull of air in his lungs and the loud tone almost echoed. Viktor wasn't sure if it was really an apartment anymore.

This would not have been the very definition of dirty if it wasn't to be filled with unwashed mugs, scattered pizza boxes ― was that from Saturday?! ― and crumpled plastic and paper bags, cans of beers and soups and paper scraps. Jesus Christ, Viktor had not yet mentioned about laundry! The poodle that once scampering around his legs had proceeded that it was best for his own life if he stayed outside, and Makkachin did. In a hurry, too.

Even dogs knew the dangers of Yuuri's state of home, or rather his state of mind.

"What on earth happened to you?!"

The raven slumped himself against the sofa, the only space free from used shirts and boxes. "Don't have. . . Time. . ."

"Were you that busy?"

"I'm still not done," Yuuri whined, "Apparently my other colleagues are not much of any help after all. Like, I only asked one of them to do the introduction but she haven't even respond to my texts. But I know she read my Whatsapp because she gave me a blue tick ― a blue tick! ― but she didn't even confirm or email me. And this is due tomorrow! And I have a tutorial on Friday," Yuuri paused from his hasty rants to sob against the couch, "Can you believe that?"

Viktor, who had himself comfortably settled on the floor and leaned against Yuuri's back, tapped his chin, wincing against the pain that his dear friend had went through. "Yikes, group assignments could be really bad. . ."

"That's why. . . I guess you experienced the same thing too, hm?" The raven sighed and his fingers stroked the grey locks, his skin tingling upon his hair; smooth like silk, soft and comforting.

Viktor chuckled. "Nah, last time people offered to do my work. I guess I am a bit popular even in college. . ." He laughed brightly, and the raven poked his head out of frustration.

"That is so unfair!"

"Ow, Yuu ― It's just the benefits of charisma!"

"No, it's the fact that you're just perfect at everything you're doing!" He poked more, and scowled before sighing and buried his face against the soft couch. "Sometimes I wonder how's life like yours would be. . ."

The Russian remained silent, not being able to respond to such curiosity. Living a life like his? Sure, he had benefits. But was it fun to begin with when you realised their affection and admiration was hope for him to become someone he couldn't be? Was it fun when it ended up just the same as always?

Blue eyes peeled against the ceiling, wavering. Yuuri had hauled himself to a sitting position, bringing his knees to touch Viktor's head, and he found the Russian spacing out. Had he blurted out something wrong?

"Viktor. . .?"

The striking blue, once unfocused suddenly pierced sharp into the honey brown. The older man hummed and smiled, "Hm?"

"What are you thinking about?"

The Russian continued to ponder, this time however glancing at every corners of his apartment. It unsettled the raven, the way his eyes darted to the mess and his laundry and his stacks of homework.

"I was thinking of helping," the man smiled. Gone was the mischief and perky in his curl of lips, instead it gave Yuuri a semblance of warmth. Warm like honey melting on toast, warm like a bonfire in an ice cold winter. He felt himself wincing, not from discomfort but the foreign sense of gratefulness he never thought would surface.

His words had sent Yuuri back to his familiar crimson state. The flush spread to his cheeks, to his ears that eventually burnt bright. The raven clasped his mouth with one hand, hoping the maddened blush would stop. "Y-You want to?"

"Yeah," Viktor smiled, "Can't leave a damsel in distress, right?"

The raven laughed, a full body one at his words. From up close, Viktor could see the faint dimples on his cheeks and the way the scarlet dusted his cheeks. He found it somewhat remarkable, gazing the view with his head on Yuuri's lap. He poked the raven's forehead.

"Hey, what was that for?" Yuuri was still giggling.

"For poking my head," he chuckled and rose from the lean. He glanced toward the laptop, a MacBook Pro with a Microsoft document displayed on screen. Yuuri might need all the time he needed. He'd better be fast as well, and so Viktor proceeded to start his new job as a house caretaker. "Well, I should start with the dishes!" He rolled his sweater's sleeves up to his elbows, and whistled for Makkachin not to dawdle outside for too long. "In the meantime, why don't you get some sleep?"

Yuuri gasped, "N-No, I can't ― my assignments ―"

"Sleep."

It was close to an order, but intentionally a request since the grey-haired man couldn't stand another second gazing toward the obviously dead tired face. He looked lifeless, poor man. Whoever was cruel to ignore him was such a sod, the raw anger was visible within him as he shakily picked up multiple mugs at once.

Pouting, Yuuri was about to protest with another remark when he realised a flash of threat within the blue pools. He sighed, "Alright, but just for an hour."

"Two," he yelled, approaching the sink nearby.

"One and a half."

"Good enough, I guess," huffed Viktor with a pitied smile. "Remind me to spike your drink before you sleep again."

"Well then," Yuuri released a snort in between his laughter, "Remind me not to trust your drinks ever again."

The grey-haired man scoffed, "Oh, you'll definite have to next time. You can't escape from me," Viktor winked, feigning the perky mood to lighten Yuuri's state.

In a minute or so, just as Viktor would have assumed, the raven went into a deep slumbering state. So comfy by the couch, he did not get bothered when Viktor placed a blanket on his body and lifted his head for a small cushion he found laying beneath the pile of thick, dusty books.

"See, Makkachin," he said, "Yuuri is tired after all." A bark came out as a response. "You're glad that you came here too, hm?" The older man laughed.

But Viktor wasn't one to clean so often as well. Back in St Petersburg, he had helpers and hired maids to clean his own home whilst he flocked his schedule with a dozen practices and parties and interviews. Now that he had free time, he secretly wished that he had sacrificed a small amount of time to even practice cleaning his bedroom.

Well, he never thought that chores would be a difficult thing to do.

Bless the mothers.

With the brown poodle trailing here and there, instinctively picking up laundry to a red, empty basket he assumed for the dirty clothes, Viktor however was in great dilemma on how to start the chores. Books either too dusty, his fingers tingled with itch within seconds of touching or the dishes too crowded to even wash them in the sink. He huffed, arms akimbo and stared longingly, lost at whatever he was trying to do.

"How did others do it so easily, hm?"

Makkachin fondled its face against his lower legs, and Viktor almost screamed when there was underwear within its bite. "M-Makkachin, put it down!"

It wasn't the fact that an undergarment was, in fact, a matter of privacy to Viktor. Not that, after all. Truth to be told, Viktor seen Yuuri showered in his home last week — because his shower was broken and could only repaired the day after. So, he'd seen Yuuri's. . . stuffs. But it was the fact that his poodle was waggling them freely, as if with pride, close to his legs that he felt like his comfort had been breached after all. Flustered and all, he tried to push the dog to a certain distance but at the same time, not wanting to be loud to wake the raven from his nap.

Speaking of said raven, the other man had been watching the commotion with half-closed eyes. He buried the rest of his face with the cushion, concealing the rest of his face whilst pretending to snore after a ten-minute nap. He watched the disgust dubious on Viktor's face, wringing with his garment in a tug war with his dog. He wanted nothing more than to help, but it was a rare sight to see the Russian being in that kind of state. Yuuri decided to linger more, but the sight had the best of him. His fits of laughter became louder in each staccato snorts.

"Yuuri. . .?"

Oops. "Y-yeah," Yuuri breathed, lowering the cushion to allow oxygen into his nostrils.

"You were watching the whole time?"

"Apparently, yeah."

"Jesus," Viktor muttered under his breathe, his palms slapping his forehead slightly to hide his embarrassment.

The shorter male had returned to his previous sitting position, eyeing the other with an amused look and he stifled a small laughter, "It's okay, Viktor. I can do it next time."

"But I wanna help," whined the older man, who finally settled sitting on the stool, chin resting on the small space by the occupied island counter. Makkachin was left forgotten as it find entertainment by picking up the rest of his garments into the basket as if playing a solitary fetch game.

Yuuri smiled, he slid down to the floor to meet with his laptop once again. "Being here is already fine with me," was what he said earnestly. But looking back to his words, the raven turned bright red and pretended an awkward snort. "I. . . I mean, you can just s-stay here w-watching TV while I do this. . ."

He glanced toward the grey-haired man. Viktor blinked, startled. But he himself had a smile slowly pulling from his lips. "That's good enough?"

Yuuri blushed, but he held onto his words. "Yeah."

He patted a spot beside him, attempted a grin and waggled the remote control as an invitation.

"You have all day to be here, after all."

Viktor took his invitation without any fuss or objection, sliding beside him easily and propped his chin on his knees. He kept silent at first, as if brooding with a deeper thought. But Yuuri somehow could guessed that he was just being upset with his failure of being a house maiden currently.

It was odd. Spending time with Viktor reminded the Japanese that in fact he was nothing more but a mere person. The fact that no matter how famous he could be, how much talent and beauty he was born with, Viktor was a person with skills and flaws. Not that he was actually pleased to find Viktor with his own flaws, but at some point — he was just glad that he felt at the same level as the Russian at that moment. Yuuri watched Viktor squinting his eyes, but the bright blue pools were unfocused, visualising an in-depth thought quite intently.

"You know," Yuuri spoke, breaking whatever reverie in Viktor's mind at that moment, "I'm glad that you can't do chores at all."

The other male choked, suddenly flung himself into fits of coughs. "Wh-What. . .?"

The raven shrugged ever so slightly, but he held on a warm smile. "I just am." He reached out to Viktor, and an index finger found its way to the older man's forehead and he tapped the head lightly.

"Thank you," he whispered and got up to head to the fridge.

Viktor was left agape, dumbfounded and at loss toward whatever Yuuri had spoken previously. He wanted to reach out, to ask, but even when Yuuri returned with two cans of beers did he never manage to utter a single word. Viktor clasped his hand to his mouth, though accepting the drink — cold against his touch — he felt his skin getting warmer and his own cheeks set ablaze in a foreign heat.

What had he got himself into?

TO BE CONTINUED


Mozu : Can I say that this is all sunshine and bees containing light angst in future chapters? :D

You know it, X for love O for hate!

-Mozu The Mochi (2016)