Yuuri's hand trembled, the ring cold under his fingers.
His voice cracked. "What?"
"When you shower," Victor said, fixing him with his gaze, "keep the ring on. Don't take your eyes off it, even for a second. Take it with you back to Sapporo."
Yuuri's eyes were as round as saucers. He let out a shaky breath.
"But I couldn't. It's not mine."
"It's proof that this was real. Will be real. Whatever the verb is."
"What about older-me?"
"He'll understand."
Yuuri stared down at his fist. His knuckles clenched white around the metal. Victor brushed his fingers over the back of Yuuri's palm, then stepped back.
"I don't want you to leave without knowing what you mean to me."
Yuuri trembled before those words. He wasn't the man Victor wanted. Why did Victor keep saying things like this?
He held the ring out. "Victor, please. Don't make this harder than it needs to be."
Victor lay his hand over his heart.
"You may not be my husband, but without you, the man I love wouldn't be who he is today. I wouldn't be who I am today. The fact that I got to meet you is an honor."
Yuuri ducked his head, cheeks flaming. "That's kind of you."
"I mean it."
With his vision blurring and wrist starting to shake, Yuuri let his arms drop to his sides. He stared at the wood grain between their feet.
"I find it hard to believe I could become the sort of person you wanted. Assuming that even happens."
Victor chuckled. "But it's already happened. Why worry?"
Yuuri opened his mouth, then shut it again. A tendril of guilt coiled in his stomach. Just because this was a future, doesn't mean it would be his future. His relationship with Victor could change as easily as the lottery numbers had.
Before now, he had never worried about what happened to the futures he saw, which didn't come to pass. He could forget about them. They looked almost identical to Yuuri's own life, after all. But now? Now there was something—someone—that Yuuri could lose.
"Yuuri, it's alright."
Victor was smiling softly, a hand on his hip.
"We found each other before. We'll find each other again."
A hundred reasons fluttered through Yuuri's mind for why that might not happen. A lot could go wrong in seven years. And if it did, if Yuuri stepped even an inch off the course, this version of Victor might disappear forever. Would it hurt, to be erased from existence?
Yuuri shuddered.
"Really," Victor said, blissfully unaware, "knowing you, and knowing me, we had to have met sooner or later. We hit it off immediately, too. I'm surprised that it took as long as it did."
Yuuri's head jerked up at that. His clenched hands drew up to his chest. If he wanted this future to come true, he needed to know how to make it happen.
"Victor? How did we get together?"
Victor's lip quirked up, and he got a faraway look in his eyes. He raised a hand to his mouth.
"We went to a banquet after a competition together, and you started pole dancing."
Yuuri gaped at him. Victor sighed, eyes twinkling. On the bed, Makkachin sniffed at the empty tea mug.
"No, really, what happened?"
Victor's smile widened. "It was marvelous."
"I don't believe you."
"There was a lot of alcohol involved."
Yuuri sputtered. "I don't even drink!"
"Well, future-you has the alcohol tolerance of a god," Victor said, tapping his cheek. "Maybe you should start?"
Yuuri tilted his head and squinted. That seemed like incredibly bad advice.
Victor frowned. "Drink responsibly, though. I don't want you or anyone else to get hurt." His eyes widened. "But not too responsibly, since—wait, is it even legal for you to drink in Japan?"
It was not legal. They looked at each other for a long moment. Yuuri sighed, and rubbed the ring in his hand.
"I'm going to pretend the last fifteen seconds didn't happen."
Victor coughed. "That's probably wise."
Yuuri picked up the shirt and pants again, and held them together with the ring.
"Please tell me you were joking about the pole dancing?"
Victor's face lit up again. "I have pictures! In fact, I have a slideshow."
Oh dear god. This future could never come to pass. Yuuri would die of mortification before he and Victor had their second date.
He reddened and hid his face behind the clothes. "Never show it to me."
"I might have also commissioned a song and choreographed a medal-winning skating routine about how sexy it was."
Okay, Victor had to be messing with him now. No version of Yuuri could ever be that attractive.
He huffed. "I really need to take that shower."
He stepped toward the bathroom, but Victor tapped him on the shoulder. Victor grinned and held up the marker from this morning.
Yuuri raised an eyebrow. "What's this for?"
"Hold out your arms."
Yuuri frowned, but set the clothes down again and extended his arms. Whatever it was, he could wipe it off. Victor started writing on Yuuri's skin. As he finished each word, Yuuri's eyes widened.
On his left arm, Victor wrote, Find me.
"You don't," Yuuri said, throat tight, "you don't have to do that."
"No," Victor said. He moved on to the right arm. "But I want to."
When he finished, Yuuri had to wipe away the wetness from his eyes. Victor capped the marker with a soft pop.
Yuuri's right arm now read, I love you.
"I hate this," Victor said. "I hate the thought of you having to leave this and be alone all those years, and me not being there for you. I hate how lonely I was before I met you. I hate that my stupid past self didn't know how incredible you are, and there's nothing I can do to go back in time and knock some sense into him."
If this were a movie, the chords would swell and they'd gaze into each other's eyes. But here the only soundtrack was the hum of the air-conditioner, and Yuuri's stupid nose was starting to run. Great. He was ugly-crying, after Victor had called him sexy.
"Victor," he hiccuped.
"Promise me you won't give up." Victor pulled back, and smiled sadly at him. "Keep going, even when it's hard. And when you meet my past self, please, be patient with him."
He raised his hands to Yuuri's, and slipped the ring onto Yuuri's finger. Then, before Yuuri's stunned eyes, he pressed a kiss to Yuuri's knuckles.
"Keep chasing me. Demand me. Seduce me. Steal me away from the rest of the world, and every day I will thank you for it."
Yuuri stared at the gold band on his finger. His heartbeat pounded in his chest, and his muscles felt like lead. How was he supposed to walk away after hearing that?
Victor cleared his throat and glanced away. "Sorry, I'm being too forward again. I shouldn't have—"
Yuuri threw his arms around him. Under his hands, the muscles tensed in Victor's back. Yuuri brushed his thumb over Victor's shoulder blade, soft and slow like when he was comforting Vicchan, and rested his chin on Victor's shoulder.
"In case I don't get to see you again," Yuuri mumbled, "let me have this, okay?"
Beside him, he heard Victor gulp, and then Victor drew up his arms to embrace Yuuri back. Where Yuuri's hold was tight, Victor's was soft, like Yuuri was something fragile and precious. Like a child, but not like a lover.
Yuuri mentally stomped the flare of annoyance back down to the bottom of his stomach. This was already more than he could ask for. So for now, he closed his eyes, soaking in the feel of Victor's chest rising and falling, the brush of Victor's cheek against his, and the faint scent of raspberry jam.
Yuuri's lip twitched. Dork.
"Victor, if we meet again—"
"When."
Victor's voice brooked no argument. Not that Yuuri wanted to argue.
"When we meet again," he said, pulling back so he could meet Victor's eyes, "I'm going to wear the ugliest tie I can find, just to see the look on your face."
Victor blinked. Then he laughed. "When you're not watching, I'll burn it."
Yuuri smiled back. "You better."
They held each other for a few seconds more, until Yuuri couldn't justify waiting any longer, and stepped away.
"If things go as usual," he said, picking up the clothes, "future-Yuuri will be back in a few minutes, and things will be back to normal for you."
"And if things don't go as usual?"
"Then I, younger-Yuuri, will step out of the shower again, and we'll have to deal with that."
"Then we'll deal with it," Victor said. "Whatever happens, I have faith in you."
Yuuri flushed at that, and gave Victor one last smile. He took a deep breath, let it out, and closed the door to the bathroom behind him.
He cast a final look around. Soft evening light streamed through airy windows, reflecting highlights and shadows across the warm wood grain. On the walls, pictures of Hasetsu Beach. Victor's silly hair products—ah, that's where the avocado had gone—and clippings of Makkachin's fur in the trash, from when he must have trimmed her paws.
"Please, God," Yuuri whispered. "Or whatever stupid thing put me in this year. Take me back."
He disrobed, turned on the water, and stepped into the shower.
