ACT 10

today is a gift

There were no words to describe the hollow and dreary cocoon of Viktor's heart as it crumbled and fell apart and landed in the crevices between his ribs.

In one sitting he'd finished this book, front to back, left to right, up and down and inside out. One sitting was all it took, and the early morning was when the final page was turned. Viktor's brain had shut down and its hard-drive was wiped clean.

And it made sense. Even though it still hurt. And he was stupid.

It was nearly 10 AM on one Tuesday morning in the middle of September and it marks three months since Yuuri last walked out of the apartment. Six months of emotion and heartbreak and gloom and ignorance and Viktor was the stupidest man on the planet and he was stupid and stupid and stupid and he felt horrible.

Horrible like the taste of Chris' weird medicine, or horrible like the smell of concentrated ammonia, and horrible like everything Viktor felt, right now. He was horrible. And he couldn't go on like this.

But worst has come to worst and best has come to best and so he knew what he had to do. He figured if he thought about it long and hard enough it might even sink in as some kind of destiny, an ideology he revered but one that Yuuri couldn't care less about. But what does it matter now? He tried to capture this deep, profound embarrassment and shame in a glass jar like a butterfly, but the jar slipped through his fingers and away it flew. It flew far but maybe if he willed his hands as far as it flew then maybe he could capture it.

Which is what brought him here. The blue bungalow with the beautiful rugs and fireplace and chairs. The house surely belonging to a doctor or a lawyer.

He ascended the stairs with his wet moist hands and hoped his fingers wouldn't stain the pages of this precious text. His knees buckled and his throat clenched and he was nervous. For how long had it been since he was here last?—let's just call it forever. The guilt spilled into his toes. The world's his fucking oyster so he rang the doorbell.

In his mind's eye he could see every movement Yuuri would take, to pad down the hallway from his elaborate bedroom with feet stuffed in socks stuffed in sandals stuffed in Viktor's mouth—well. It's where they should be, at least, to prevent him from saying anything even more stupid. He may or may not have had a script and he couldn't remember if he planned some words but he was ready and willing to taste the scratchy socks on his tongue and tickle the roof of his mouth, because honestly? That sounds better than talking.

And the door creaked open.

The Golden Boy himself stood there, beautiful like the Mona Lisa frozen in time. His soft eyes were heavy and the contours of his smooth face were rosy and his socked feet were in sandals. His expression changed from startled to confused to unsure to guarded. His long author's fingers clutched the edge of the door and he looked very, very young at this very moment. His sweet, subtle beauty never failed to fill Viktor's heart.

They looked at each other. And Viktor wanted to be a crumpled leaf beneath his own shoe.

Yuuri sucked his lips between his teeth for a second and he was hesitant, very hesitant. Hello...can I help you?

Viktor's lips parted slightly and his tongue sat weighing ten pounds in his mouth. He set his trembling chin and set his jaw and he would be brave for maybe two minutes before he swore he would disappear into the bushes under the window. He lifted the book up and flipped to the last page, page 394. He cleared his throat. The world's his oyster. He read out loud the last paragraph.

"'When he stepped out into the glistening road and watched his friends—his best friends, to be precise—walk down the shimmery cement with their arms linked and laughter intertwined, he felt emotion drag its course through his body down into his toes. Something told him he wasn't allowed to feel this way; the grand writer of the rules of the world said so. When he watched the man and the woman trace their toes in the sand and grasp each other's hands and feel raw, unsolicited, uncensored love, he was happy. He was happy and that made the jealous rule-writer angry, but he soon came to the realization that he didn't much care about the things 'that were supposed to be' in the 'ways they were supposed to happen'. Maybe it was the idea that he, too, felt this way, at another point in time, and two other human beings were fortunate enough to feel the exact same way. Or maybe it was the promise that Vincent was waiting for him in some divine atmosphere beyond this planet, ready to resume and proliferate this sensation over and over and over until the final candles extinguished. Whatever it was, Roman was grateful for it. The rain stretched into his veins and he had never felt so ethereal.'"

Viktor's hands shook even though he'd read these words already just nine hours ago, and nine minutes ago in the car. He felt embarrassed and he was worried his voice was hoarse and timid even though Yuuri couldn't hear it anyway and maybe he was lucky, in that sense.

When he looked up, the rosy pigment in Yuuri's cheeks had spread to the tip of his nose, and beneath his eyes. Yuuri watched him with soft eyes and the shield between the two men slowly lowered.

Viktor's heart throbbed. "This," he croaked, pointing at the words. "spoke to me. This made me feel something I've never felt before. I'm in physical pain."

Yuuri's eyes narrowed. Suddenly and very clearly irritated, he raised his hands to speak, but Viktor stopped him just in the nick of time. "It's not what you think. I'm...I'm not sad. Or upset." He closed the book and gently put it in his bag. He swallowed the wad in his throat and Yuuri kept looking at him.

"I'm happy," he whispered and signed while doing so for Yuuri's sake. "I'm so, so, so happy you wrote it this way and didn't change anything. I'm happy Vincent died because it's a metaphor for life. We can't always get what we want and it sucks but love—never stops," he said. "Roman believes he will be with Vincent in another life, and that gives him hope so it gives me hope, too. Even if it's not true, it's—it's the concept—" He fumbled with his words now; God, it was so much easier when he talked to himself. "The idea is what really counts. And I think they really are in love, so it'll be even sweeter the next time they meet. I know they will."

His chest swelled with certainty. "Their souls will find each other one day, and they can be reunited. And they can be happy together, forever." He smiled sadly and was he about to cry? "Yuuri, your books mean so much to me, and I'm so glad I got to read them. The time we spent apart was really—really hard, and...I just wanted to tell you I miss you, and…" Now he really was crying; streams came down both cheeks and gathered at his jaw, before free-falling to the ground. "—I'm sorry. I was being really stupid when I said all those things to you. I don't know what possessed me to think…" He shook his head in a few jerky movements. He wiped at his face and sniffed. "Whatever, it doesn't matter. I just wanted to say that. I'll, uh…" He motioned back towards his car. "Okay. Nice seeing you again."

His emotions had gotten the better of him. Again. Defeated, his shoulders scrunched up to his ears and he turned on his heel and made it back down the stairs.

A hand on his elbow. He whipped around.

Yuuri stood there, his wide, endlessly patient eyes moist. He only allowed his bottom lip to quiver for half a second before his fingers closed around Viktor's wrist and tugged.

And Yuuri yanked yanked yanked him into his arms, and he held him, tightly, passionately, warmly.

Viktor held on and held his breath. The warmth of Yuuri's body heated his fingers straight down to his core. In a moment, his arms reciprocated the embrace and he held onto the sweet, intelligent, talented body of the young man he's so desperately craved for the past...for too long, at the very least.

They pulled slightly apart. Their breaths mingled and intertwined like silk laces. Yuuri's palms smoothed across Viktor's cheeks and Viktor almost sobbed. The tears were delicately brushed away by soft thumbs and Viktor filled with love as thick as syrup.

Yuuri was so beautiful. The wind tousled his midnight hair and he was like an angel. He was an angel, Viktor was sure of it. Yuuri smiled and the world stopped to stare at the mesmerizing sight.

You're not stupid, Yuuri said finally. Just lazy. There was a twinkle in his eye.

Viktor leaned in and kissed Yuuri hard.

A soft, shuddering little sigh escaped Yuuri's throat and Viktor swallowed it down just to kiss him more. Their lips slowly moved against each other's, shallow at first, then deep and emotive and everything Viktor needed. Yuuri was his angel. An angel with mismatched socks. An angel who has never heard a whisper, or a shout, or the sound of rain, or the sound of static, or a note of music. An angel who used words better than people could ever say them. An angel who stole Viktor's heart and had no intentions of returning it—not that Viktor wanted it back.

But an angel nonetheless.

They parted after a couple millennia and the blush on Yuuri's cheeks made Viktor's insides stir and he had to stave off the heat collecting in the pit of his stomach. And Yuuri was still shy and nervous and he pushed his glasses up as they were slipping down his nose. It seemed as though he was ready to take a step back, disturb the contact between his and Viktor's bodies, but Viktor held his hips and kept him in place. He'd never let Yuuri go; not again, not in this lifetime or the next.

I'm sorry, too, Yuuri said meekly. You were right that I should have told you about the ending ahead of time, I should have asked you what you thought about it and how you felt about it but I wasn't thinking and I thought it'd be okay—

Viktor pushed Yuuri's dark bangs aside gently, and it was like they suddenly were transported to that one day at the pond, that one day in spring. "It was okay," he promised. "It was more than okay. It was everything I could have asked for and more."

Yuuri blossomed. Really?

Viktor smiled. "Yes."

Yuuri cupped his face and kissed him again, and again, and again. Viktor's hands squeezed his hips and Yuuri's mouth tasted like strawberries.

They kissed in the orange and yellow and brown world where words grew and were harvested from the ground, and where stories were engraved in the barks of the trees. The light danced across their feet and on their shoulders and knees.

And Yuuri said he loved him. Viktor decided that was his most favourite thing, Yuuri's lips brushing against his ear as he slowly mouthed the words I love you against his skin.

Viktor had never felt more ethereal.

"Two sugars, two creams?"

Yes, please.

Yurio grunted but jotted down the order. He looked pissed, so why do his cheeks get flushed every time Yuuri comes around? Viktor smiled.

Has he been practicing his ASL? Yuuri asked the second Yurio disappeared.

"I'm not sure. He seems to be picking up on it rather quickly, don't you think?"

I agree. He's a quick learner. Yuuri smiled. I wonder what got him interested in learning my language?

Viktor rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I wonder what it possibly could be."

Yurio returned within thirty seconds and gingerly placed the mug in front of Yuuri. "Here."

Yuuri smiled very sweetly up at him, sweeter than usual. Thank you so much.

Yurio went bright red at the smile. He nodded slowly. "You're...welcome." Viktor could practically smell the admiration dripping off the teen even as he desperately tried to cover the huge crush he had on Yuuri.

Then Yurio's gaze drifted down to Yuuri's lips and Viktor cleared his throat loudly. "Alright, Yurio, that's enough. Don't get distracted now," he teased. "That's my boyfriend you're drooling over."

Yurio's back straightened like a snap-flex and his cheeks were red red red and he so had a crush on Yuuri. He huffed and puffed and reverted back to being a moody, grouchy teen. "Fuck you, asshole. Eat shit and fuck off," he growled, snarling in Viktor's direction. He directed the snarl at Yuuri. "Fuck you, too." Embarrassed and blushing, Yurio sped off back into the kitchen.

Yuuri laughed his sweet, throaty, tiny laugh. Did he say what I think he said?

"Not surprisingly," Viktor sighed. "yes."

Yuuri hummed and shrugged. Teenagers, he said simply, and sipped his coffee.

Viktor watched him for a few moments, not saying anything. He watched the way the light from the window cast into his eyes and made them shine a lighter shade of brown.

After he'd apologized to Chris and they'd made up, finally, Chris had said something peculiar. "I think you two have what the Chinese would describe as a yuanfen," he'd said. "because I have never seen two people more destined to meet and fall in love with one another." This time, Viktor believed him and the foreign vocabulary that always seemed to describe some way Viktor felt. Perhaps it wasn't complete bullshit after all.

Yuuri looked at him, then, his fingers tapping lightly against his mug. He tilted his head and his smile was soft. What is it?

Viktor shook his head.

No, tell me.

Viktor shrugged.

You look like you have something to say. You can ask me anything, you know.

"Really? Anything?"

Anything.

Viktor took a deep breath and filled his lungs. He bit his lip and debated internally—should he ask?

Eventually, his curiosity got the better of him. "Do you ever wish you could hear?"

Yuuri's face dropped slightly but he didn't seem upset. Instead, he tipped his chin up thoughtfully, and he appeared to think about it. His gaze drew out the window for a moment.

He turned back to Viktor and nodded. Well, of course. There are a lot of times I wish I could hear. Sometimes it's not easy being deaf, and sometimes I think about how nice it'd be to fit in for once and be part of the majority who can hear. He paused to trace the rim of his mug with his finger, his eyes downcast. Suddenly Viktor felt guilty for asking such a thing.

Then Yuuri smiled and lifted his head. But I wouldn't want to be a hearing person forever, he said. I think being deaf has become a big part of my identity, and if I were to suddenly lose that, then I'd be a different person. I love being deaf. He grinned.

Viktor raised his eyebrows. "You do?"

Yes, of course. I know people don't like to hear that, but it's true. I love my life. Yuuri's face tinged pink and his entire body language softened. I got to meet you this way, didn't I?

Viktor's face flooded with a gentle warmth. "You're right." He reached across the table for Yuuri's hand and lifted it to his lips to kiss it gently. "And for that, I am very thankful."

Viktor would stay with Yuuri when he writes his next book, and when he won't write his next book, and every single moment in between.

The murmured conversations of the café crept into the corners of the evening.

END

A/N: That's all, folks! brb YELLING

Wowie wowie wow, that's it! That's the story! Yayayayayay thank you all so very much for reading, this was a lot of fun! Holy smokes 10 weeks go by real fast when you're having fun. B) I hope you liked how it ended! It was probably a bit cliché but oh well lol.

I wrote this not only because a) I wanted a story that talked about disabilities but didn't necessarily focus entirely on them (because the people who have them have lives not too different from ours), but also because b) I had read an ebook about the same sort of scenario, where one partner was featured in the others' book and their character ends up dying. The only thing is the conflict was only resolved after the author changed the ending to make his partner happy. I found that to be complete and utter bullshit. Like Yuuri said, it has nothing to do with people in real life. You shouldn't feel obligated to change your writing just because it hurt someone's feelings. If it makes you happy, then that's all that matters. But that's just my opinion.

WOW ok that's all for me. Again, thanks for sticking around so long and I'll see y'all in the future! Might take a break from YOI for a bit and focus on Hetalia, but I'll be back. ;)

Thanks for reading!

Stay classy.