I know, I know; stupid misunderstandings can be avoided and have been done to death. Let me put it this way: as an anxiety sufferer, this happens more often than I'd like to admit and it's super easy to just accept assumptions as truths rather than reveal to others how twisted the mind sometimes works and it felt appropriate to include. In other news, y'all get to hear from Phichit again in this chapter as he tries to cheer Yuri up and be.. .well, Phichit XD


Board games with my family used to be a big source of entertainment here. It wasn't because of the games themselves, either; my mom always needed the rules repeated throughout play, dad had more fun pretending to be overly serious than focusing on his actual strategy and Mari made it clear that she didn't care about the outcome, despite how frustrated she got when she'd lose. Our collection of games is here in Mari's closet, forgotten under a shroud of musty cobwebs. Even if we wanted to play them now, none of us have the time to sit around a table and roll dice; there's too much work to be done and too many people to take care of. I wipe them off with a paper towel, setting them in a new stack in the corner of the room where Mari's bed used to be. "Why do we have so many of these games?" To be honest, I don't recognize a couple of them, but twelve years can warp what was once a certainty into a maybe. As I cross the room, my steps sound empty and sad; at least it's no longer cold and only slightly rainy. The rain can't end soon enough. I sigh, checking my phone: I've missed a call from Phichit. I'm not feeling like a ray of sunshine, but if anyone can help me feel closer to one, it's Phichit. He answers his phone right away. "Hey, sorry. I was clean—"

"That's fine, but listen to this!" Phichit gulps for air, practically panting. What, was he running?

"Why're you out of breath?"

He tries to laugh, but it sounds more like wheezing. "I ran across campus to my office." Phichit's technically a grad student instructor, so he has an office; as an art instructor, that office doubles as a studio. "Can you imagine if I was outta shape? I'd be dead." It sounds like he's taking a drink, gulping sounds quite audible. "Okay, so you remember yesterday, how one of my students asked for a meeting?"

"Yeah, I remember."

"I'm not normally out and around campus so early, so I went to the café at the far end 'cause I hear they have the best lattes. So here I am, waiting in line, and guess who passes by with a cup in his hand."

There's only one person I imagine is on Phichit's mind, and I hardly know a thing about him. "Could it be this mysterious man with no face or name?"

"You know what he looks like."

"No, I don't." I chuckle, shaking my head and finding a seat on the floor.

Phichit huffs. "I told you, he has black hair and dark eyes, and he always wears dark suits. What more can I tell you?" I suppose he has a point, there. "Oh, but yeah! It was him! I asked him what his order was, and we started talking about what drinks were good there and stuff and I found out that he's in the math department! Isn't that amazing?"

"That he's a math guy? That doesn't seem like your style."

"No!" He laughs. "That I talked to him and found out which building he works in."

Not that I don't trust Phichit's judgement, but I think I'd feel more excited if I knew the guy. Is he selfish? Is he cold? Does he like musicals as much as Phichit? Is he allergic to hamsters? "Tell me something: did you get a good feeling from him?" I don't want to come across as negative, but I'd hate to pick up the pieces of my best friend's shattered heart again.

"Sounds like somebody's worried." Phichit says in a singsong voice. I roll my eyes at his giggle, shaking my head. "You know how it takes you a while to warm up to people? He's like that."

"If you say so."

He sighs. "I'm not planning a wedding, Yuri; I just met a hot guy who works at the same place I do." When I stay quiet, he asks: "Are you doing alright? You sound down."

I scrub my face, letting out a sigh. "I'm fine. I've been better."

"Yuri, you know you can tell me what's wrong. I mean, we've been friends for years. You probably know me better than my family." Phichit scoffs. He's right, but I'm not prepared for how stupid my admission is going to sound.

"I was…I was sort of starting to like Victor. You know, as more than a friend?" I've been in relationships before and we're not kids, but saying I'm falling for Victor or that I want to have sex with Victor make the ideas seem more real than I'd like them to be. "Um, so, we're kind of friends and we were having dinner, but someone called him. It was the same person that tried contacting him multiple times before, and he left to call them back."

"Okay?"

"He was gone for a long time, and came back all giggly and smiling." When Victor had finished his call, I'd already hung up with Mari and finished dinner. He looked refreshed and couldn't stop smiling. Well, he stopped smiling when I said I had some emails to answer and had to take care of the dinner dishes; he probably wanted to gab about his wonderful call to someone but there was no way I could've sat around for that. "I think he's already in a relationship."

"Wait, so you think him taking a call and coming back in a good mood means he has someone?"

"What else could that mean? Phichit, this guy was calling and texting him all day and when Victor finally calls back, it's all smiles." I roll my eyes. "I can't believe I was stupid enough to think he'd show me his techniques."

"I'm gonna stop you right there, hon." He doesn't leave any room for protests. "Even if you were wrong, that doesn't make you stupid. We both know you're smart and have never done a stupid thing in your life. And you don't even know who he was talking to. Like, it could've been his father, for all you know. Or a coworker. You should ask."

My jaw drops at his suggestion. "I'm not asking! It's none of my business."

"Yuri, there's no harm in saying, 'Hey, why was that guy calling you nonstop? Is everything okay?' It's not like you start in with accusations and shit." Phichit makes it sound so easy, but so many things could go wrong.

"I don't know about that."

"You don't have to if you don't want to, but it couldn't hurt. It'll also ease your mind, I think." He suggests. Phichit's advice is mostly useful, and it always comes from a good place. However, it's not that easy for me; the phone call didn't happen earlier today, so it'd be strange to bring it up now, wouldn't it? I might also offend him by sticking my nose in his business; we barely know each other, and there's no way I've reached that kind of friendship with him. I almost feel bad for keeping this concern, my feelings and my photography background from Victor. Maybe Phichit's right; deciding how to talk to him is the issue, though. "What're you thinking?"

I pull my knees to my chest, needing a hug but remembering I'm alone. "I don't know how I'll bring it up, but…you're probably right, I should." My shoulders drop, tired. "If anything, it'll stop all the questions I keep having."

"There you go! That's the idea." Phichit's smile is surely present; I can hear it in his cheerful voice. "It can't hurt, trust me. Asking won't make him hate you, or anything."

Over the years, Phichit has learned how to speak Yuri, even when we're far apart and can't see each other. "I guess it doesn't even matter; we won't see each other again when all of this is over, so what do I have to lose?" I wish Vicchan was in this house with me; he always knows when I need cuddles.

"You don't know that. Anyway, try to be happy, okay? Take Victor's career advice, and have fun while you can."

"Yeah, alright. Don't stalk any math professors, no matter how hot they are." I smirk. He argues that he's infatuated, not obsessed, and we hang up with a laugh that lifts my spirits. In all honesty, Phichit doesn't even need to help me with my problems to make me feel better; simply being around and speaking to my best friend is often enough. I considered asking him to come with me, but I didn't want to force him to take time off from work. The loneliness of cleaning up the past on my own can weigh pretty heavily; pain hangs over my head with the memories that carry it, waiting to be uncovered in the overlooked recesses of this house. I let go of my knees, stretching my legs out in front of me. When I reach forward, I can't go as far as I used to, before I put on these extra pounds. When I graduated, I stopped needing to run across campus and go up and down staircases; my eating habits didn't change, and now I'm left with this belly. Well, it was nice to have my spirits lifted for that moment; now I'm hanging my head and staring at my feet.

"Yuri?"

I admit it: I scream at the sound of Victor's voice. I will not admit that I physically jump, too. He holds his hands up in surrender, face reddening. "You scared me!"

"I'm sorry!" Victor takes a step back. I notice a camera around his neck; it's not the one he used to photograph me before. This one is an instant print model. "I didn't mean to scare you, or intrude." He shakes his head. "I was looking all over for you." Victor gestures with the camera. Did he want to teach me about his techniques now? Like, this minute? "I know the rain hasn't stopped, but…why are you in here?"

I point at the games in the corner. "I'm cleaning in here."

Victor's eyes scan the games before returning to me, wide and nearly watery. "But…why didn't you come get me? You know I'm happy to help you around here."

"You were on your computer." I remind him. When I left the guesthouse, Victor was busy editing photos on his laptop; I didn't want to distract him. Oh, and I also didn't want him around while I was sulking about being a failure as a photographer and as a potential student. I don't say this, but I sigh. "I didn't think you'd want to be bothered, so I left you to it." I stand to my feet, heading towards the games.

Victor doesn't follow me. "It wouldn't have bothered me."

"Okay, well, that's why I left without you." The silence that follows my statement is heavier than I anticipate. I know what games are here, but I pretend to sort them with Victor's eyes boring into the back of me; there's no need for staring. Why is he staring at me? The question nags at me, but I don't turn around and I certainly don't ask.

"Can I run an idea by you?"

"Go ahead."

"I think you could use a break." Victor claps his hands. "And I see a bunch of activities there."

Is he hinting at what I think he's hinting at? "And your idea?"

"Maybe we can play one of them!"

In less than a second, I spin on my heel to face him. Victor laughs, but I must've missed the joke; I blink in disbelief: he's serious. "Victor." The smile doesn't leave his face, nor does the flush of color. "You can't be serious."

"Yuri, it'll be fun!" Victor brushes past me, selecting two board games. He hugs them to his chest, grinning at me. Heaven help me, I won't be able to say no, will I? When Victor blinks at me, hope in his eyes, I know I'm sunk. "Please? I haven't seen you all day and you've been working too hard." His pout is the nail in my coffin. "And I didn't get to show you anything about photography, either." After a single sigh, I nod, breaking out in what could be generously considered a smile. Victor beams and turns to leave. "I'm so excited! Come on."

I follow him back to the guesthouse where we sit at the coffee table, the same way we do when we eat dinner. We didn't share a meal today, aside from breakfast, so it's kind of relaxing to sit down with Victor like this. "What'd you pick?" I ask, resting my chin in my hand.

"No idea." He smiles. "I have another idea! Wait here."

Victor not only leaves the room, he leaves the house. Oh, and he leaves me with my jaw dropped. "What the hell?" Even if I know Victor for another thirty years, I doubt I'll ever be able to understand how his mind works. Maybe that's the beauty of his brain: controlled chaos spun in silver and ocean waves; it makes little sense but it's often interesting, at least. I roll my eyes at our poodles, cozy on the couch. "Makkachin, your human is positively nuts." She blinks at me; I'll take it as a silent agreement. Victor returns a moment later, waving two dark bottles in his hands. I gasp, covering my mouth. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Do you think it's blackberry wine I had in the trunk?" Victor chuckles. "We'll share, and it'll make things more interesting."

"I don't know." He can't know this, but alcohol makes me…well, it makes me act out of character. In the apartment I shared with Phichit years ago, we both had terrible midterm seasons and drowned our sorrows in cheap bottles of vodka; he ended up with a video of me stripping and singing along with a tacky song about someone touching my body. I'm not proud of how I can get when under the influence. That being said, I'm starting to feel like this is going to be one of those sorrow drowning kinds of evenings.

Victor leaves the bottles on the table but goes to the kitchen. "I won't force you." He says over his shoulder.

"I know." I don't think Victor has forced me to do a single thing. Perhaps if I only have a few sips, or pace myself, I won't lose control. I pick at one of my nailbeds and Victor takes his seat across from me, placing a cup in front of me and one in front of him. The large cups aren't appropriate for these beverages, making me laugh. "Yeah, we don't have wine glasses here."

Victor hums in acknowledgement. "We won't fill them." He pours some wine in his cup, hovering over mine with an eyebrow raised, a silent question aimed at me.

"Alright, but not too much."

"Of course." He adds the dark liquid to my cup, too. "Now, what should we play first?"

Our first game starts out fine enough: we both know many words and enjoy spelling them across the board. It doesn't take long, though, to figure out that we're missing many vowels, namely the first two from the alphabet; it makes it difficult to spell much, so we throw the rules out the window and substitute random letters for the vowels. A few times, Victor tries to spell Russian words only to confuse himself and change his mind. It's interesting how large his vocabulary is! I know it doesn't take a college education to learn new words, but some of his choices are impressive and even beyond my knowledge. One bottle of wine later, we start a new game that requires marbles of the same color to return to their starting points after moving around the board. The warmth in my stomach is making all of his jokes funnier than usual; maybe the wine is simply making him funnier. "You can't move backwards!" I remind him when he suddenly forgets the rules.

"I thought we could after…oh, wait, I'm thinking of Chinese checkers! Doesn't the board look just like this, Yuri?"

"Not at all." I laugh. Victor joins me, holding his abs when he loses the fight to stop the laughter. We find a deck of cards in one of the game boxes, deciding to play a childish game involving pairing numbers together to collect the majority. It isn't as entertaining with only two people, but we switch to another game in little time. As we each set a card down and identify whose has the higher value, I recall that I never ate dinner. I had a late lunch, but even then, I hardly ate anything; there's nothing to keep the alcohol from going right to my brain. "When did you eat last?" I ask Victor. We were in different houses all day, so I'm clueless as to what's in his system.

He taps his chin, eyes on his cards. "I think it was around one? Six hours ago?"

"That's eight."

"Oh, I moved the wrong way." Victor smirks. "I mean, I added the wrong way."

"Are you good at math?"

"I can add one and six."

Well, the bottles are empty and our new card game is starting to confuse me. The rules are getting muddled, and I'm losing interest. "Do you know an interesting game? This is boring."

"We can play truth or dare."

"Are we teenagers?"

Victor laughs, collecting the cards into a pile again. "Come on, Yuri. It can be fun. I'll even let you go first."

"Truth or dare?"

He puts the games away in a neat pile, turning back to smile. "Dare."

Oh, right: I have to come up with something for him to do. "Um…" I adjust my glasses while I think. "Put your shirt on backwards." Victor laughs, but does it anyway, pulling his arms from his sleeves and twisting the striped shirt around his body.

"Okay, truth or dare?"

There's no way in hell I'm picking truth. "Dare."

"I dare you to let me photograph you right now." Victor's eyes shine with something unfamiliar, yet similar to the last time he took my picture.

"Okay." I don't see the harm. Victor picks his camera up but only takes one picture. "Was that it?"

"I'll take more while we play."

Why does he even want pictures of me? I shake my head, checking an empty bottle for any remnants. "That's fine. Truth or dare?"

"I'll say truth this time."

"Why were you going to your vacation house, or whatever? Are you that busy back home?" I ask. Victor's gaze falls to the camera in his hands. Did I ask something terrible again? "Shit, sorry. Um, you don't have to answer that if you don't want. I can ask a different question."

"I'll answer." He looks back up at me, tilting his head to one side. "It's been a while since I've released a new series. I'm struggling, and I thought maybe a trip somewhere pretty would help me feel inspired." Victor takes another picture of me, lowering the camera to reveal a small smile; the intensity of his eyes shocks me. "Guess we'll never know, will we?"

I don't understand. "Wait, so you thought your house would inspire you?"

"Not my house, per se, but the sea and the environment. Well, the neighborhood around it." He shrugs. "I normally find it quite a sight, and it's relaxing, but then I ended up here."

"Sorry."

"Oh, please don't be." Victor waves the thought away. "Your turn. Truth or dare?"

"Dare."

He sets the camera down, standing with an arm extended my way. "Dance with me?"

I get up, holding his hand, but don't step close enough to him to start. "There's no music playing. Shouldn't we have music?" He shakes his head, pulling me closer. The warmth radiating from where his other hand rests on me sends a shiver down my spine. I move in, toes nearly touching his, and meet his stare. "Do you want to lead?" To be honest, I wouldn't know what to do if I led, but asking seems like the right thing to do.

"Trust me?" He asks. The blue of his eyes is both soothing and jarring; I melt in that calming hue, I tremble in that powerful color. All I can do is nod. Victor starts humming, softly at first, but as our dance moves across the floor, his voice grows louder in his chest. He hums all the time, I know, yet this is the first time he's done so for me.

"Truth or dare?" I whisper, hesitant to interrupt him.

"Dare."

"Can I see you with your hair out of your face?" It's nonsensical to ask this; I've seen him with his hair out of his face a few times, but maybe not often enough for my liking. One corner of Victor's mouth curls up, amusement written across his face. "I-I know it's dumb, but—"

"Go ahead."

Wait, what? I frown, confused. "I don't understand." I admit. Victor takes my hand and moves it to the fringe hanging over his left eye. As I brush his hair back, my breathing stops; Victor's letting me touch him. My fingers graze his skin when I move the soft silver from his forehead, but I don't permit them to linger. I push the bangs behind his ear. Even if I shouldn't, I indulge myself, tracing his ear before I pull away. Victor leans into the touch, pale skin darkening to pink. I gasp without meaning to, slowly taking my hand back. His smile rattles me to my core; it's not a generic, polite or enthusiastic one like I'm used to: it's a smile that makes me feel like I'm safe, like I'm in a place I can stay forever.

"Don't make fun of my forehead, either." Victor jokes. Actually, he doesn't laugh, so maybe he isn't joking.

I shake my head, suddenly smiling. "I won't."

"Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

Victor turns his head in a way that makes his hair fall back into place, obscuring his forehead and eye. "Do I have to leave when the bridge is clear?"

"That's not really up to me."

"Do you want me to leave when the bridge is clear?"

Part of me wants to protest that he already asked a question and the second one is void; the rest of me, the greater part of me, understands that in this moment, I don't need to hide. "No." Victor's hand on my hip draws me in closer, moving to my back. It almost feels like a hug. While we continue our step sequence, I move towards him, nearly chest to chest. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

I don't want to wonder any longer. It doesn't make a difference, but I'm too curious to give up this opportunity. "When we were hanging up our laundry, who kept calling you?"

"Yuri."

"Yes?"

Victor's smile grows. "His name is Yuri." Small world, I see. "He's a…well, we have the same agent, and he was also moved here to further his career. I told him I'd share a few tips and tricks, and I kind of dropped the ball on that." Victor chews on his lower lip before shrugging. "He's just a kid; he has all the time in the world to improve, but my time here is limited. He can wait." He'd rather put a colleague aside so he can teach me? This other Yuri is likely an established photographer of some kind, but Victor wants to stay with me, a nobody, while he has the chance. Is there a word for feeling humbled and grateful at the same time? My internal dictionary is absent while I try my hardest to keep the abnormally large grin from splitting my face in two. I drip my head and press my forehead to Victor's collarbone, shutting my eyes. Victor puts an end to our dance, squeezing both my arms. "Yuri?"

"I'm sorry, I…" I don't know how to finish that sentence. I laugh, feeling Victor's arms wrap around me, pressing our bodies into an embrace. "I forgot what I was going to say."

"How about truth or dare?"

I rest my hands on Victor's shoulders before letting them knot at the back of his neck. "Truth." I know I need to tell him what I've been hiding. Before he can ask me a question, I shake my head. "There's something I need to get off my chest." All Victor does is blink, eyes swirling with emotions I assumed I'd never see. "I'm not just a fan of yours. Ever since I saw your work and felt that artistic need to create, I…" The words are on the tip of my tongue. I take a deep breath, determined to tell Victor the truth. "I'm interested in your work, and having you teach me about your process because…I've always wanted to be a photographer, too. I used to take pictures, and I still do sometimes, but I can't seem to capture images like you. I feel like such a failure, but it's all I've ever wanted." I sink my teeth into my lip before I can reveal all of my pathetic photography history. I didn't even mean to say so much, but once I started, I couldn't stop.

"You mean you're a photographer, too?" Victor asks. I nod. Is he mad? Surprised? Does he believe me? Why is he moving closer like that? "You should've told me sooner. I could've been teaching you already." The last of his words crash against my lips right before Victor's mouth does. I try to gasp, but all I inhale is more Victor; his scent is intoxicating, clouding my thoughts until there's nothing left but him. Just as I'm getting used to the softness of his kiss, Victor pulls away. "Is this okay?"

"Absolutely." There isn't the slightest chance that one kiss will be enough. I bury one hand in Victor's hair, the other grasping at his shirt collar, and eliminate the distance between us. His hands trace my sides, fingers pressing into my hips. It's still not enough; I need more. It seems that Victor senses this, deepening the kiss. Blackberry: it's all I can taste, the sweetness spiking my blood as much as the alcohol all evening. When I open my eyes, I find that I've pressed Victor's back against the wall. Will he mind if I move my mouth to his neck? Only one way to find out, I guess. Simple kisses bring out a grateful hum from Victor, but grazing his skin with my teeth elicits the moaning I'm hoping for. The sound is a green light: he wants in the same way that I want.

"Yuri?" Victor whispers. I'm not in the mood for talking; I'm in the mood for him. Instead of replying, I push his shirt up and wedge my leg between his. "Yuri, wait."

Wait? He expects me to wait? I run my fingers across the skin just above his jeans. If he's going to make me wait, I'm not going to make it easy for him. "What is it?"

Victor shuts his eyes, taking a shaky breath before smirking. "I think we have an audience."

Over my shoulder, two sets of poodle eyes are locked on us. They aren't people, and they don't know what's going on, but it doesn't make it any less embarrassing. I step back, gasping, and remove my hands from Victor. He laughs, but I roll my eyes. "Shut up."

"I'd suggest we go to my room, but we're already in it."

Taking the hint, I drag Victor to my room and shut the door. My plan is to push him onto the bed, but his shirt tag is sticking out towards his chin; I forgot it was on backwards! I start laughing, collapsing on my back into the mattress. "Why is your shirt still backwards?" My view of the ceiling is quickly obstructed by Victor, knees on either side of my waist. He places a kiss next to my ear, forcing all the air from my lungs.

"You never dared me to take it off."

Victor's lips and tongue create a trail from my ear down my neck, marking me for death; he will surely be the end of me. The light streaming through the thin curtain illuminates his silver hair, his ivory skin, while he gets comfortable on my lap. I haven't turned the lamp on, and I don't recall flicking the switch by the door, yet I can see him so clearly. My eyes dart to the window, a definite round shape peeking down from the sky. "Victor." I pull his face so our eyes can meet. The storm in Victor's eyes calms only slightly when he blinks.

"What?"

In the silence, I find that, well, there is silence; it hasn't been this quiet in the entire time I've been here. Our time together is running out and I know it. In a desperate attempt to fight this realization, I cradle Victor's face, bringing it down to mine. His kiss is passion, it's careful, it's safety, it's fire. It makes me forget that he'll pack up and leave soon. "It's stopped raining."


Drink responsibly, yo! Oh, and see? The misunderstanding isn't the hurt that needs comfort; the real issue is just below the surface. ..for now hahha BTW, am I the only one who thinks "cos" looks ghastly to shorten "because?" I can't stand it XD Also, I'm sad to see the rain go, but it's time for the sun to shine next chapter ~