Hello sweet peaches, how are you?
Today I bring a hanahaki themed fic, with a happy ending, because I could never give Yura a sad ending. I hope you enjoy it 😊✨.
Nt2: I am infinitely grateful to my little sister Jaz, who helped me look up the meaning of the flowers and without her insistence this story would never have been finished.
"Authentic love is not a decision nor is it free. The heart, the heart above all is not free. It is inevitability and the recognition of the inevitable". —Albert Camus.
"It takes a lot of courage to let oneself be loved without reserve. A courage that is almost heroism. Most people can neither give nor receive love because they are cowardly and proud, afraid that I will discover their secret, the sad secret of every human being: that they cannot live without love." —Sandor Marai
Is it possible to get sick from unrequited love?
There are times —not as infrequent as you would like— when Yuri's chest hurts when he looks at him.
(In fact it's almost always).
He thought he was used to that kind of pain. That it was something he couldn't feel anymore, but it turns out that no, when he looks at him it hurts much more; it's so deep that he can almost touch it... because looking at Katsuki Yuuri is not like looking at Victor, no, of course not. When he looked at Victor it was with more resignation than anything else, it was the undeniable certainty that no matter how much he wanted to touch the sun, his fingers wouldn't even brush against its light but that had been okay. Victor was the sun and he was the earth and that at the end of the day it didn't matter so much and it worked well.
This is different, it's something like his stomach falling into an infinite emptiness, it's the wet and heavy beating of his heart buzzing in his ears, it's the fluttering of a carrion butterfly in the depths of his soul.
It's Yuuri's brown eyes meeting his across the rink, it's the strained smile forming on his face that only softens when Victor's blue eyes meet his.
It is the pain tearing, clawing and clawing its way into his chest until it comes out in the form of a hacking cough. It is the pile of flowers that Yuri grapples with and doesn't know what to do with.
It all started in the spring —and there's something really ironic about that—, in the midst of the rain of the newly blooming cherry blossoms, when his feelings had ceased to be contained.
"I'm in love with you", Yurio's voice had been a whisper, the blossoms had settled in Yuuri's brown hair, and Yurio had wanted to run his fingers through the soft strands of his hair. Yuuri had made a sound of disbelief and the fantasy Yura had been immersed in had been popped like a soap bubble.
Yuuri's brown eyes had wandered from his and he had stirred uncomfortably.
"Oh, I'm sorry Yurio but..." Katsuki began only for his voice to trail off as their eyes met again, however, Yuri had his answer, he didn't feel the same way.
And that's how it starts, but it doesn't really because it all started when Yuri decided to follow the Japanese competitor to the bathrooms after his disastrous performance during the Grand Prix final.
Or maybe it was all decided when two years earlier he had heard that there was a Japanese skater by the name of Yuri and his curiosity had been piqued because he shared a name with a competitor who was already in the senior league.
Although given the current circumstances, it doesn't really matter because in the end it is in that spring when everything is decided.
Yuri doesn't know how it is possible to love someone like that.
To love him so much that it hurts to think about it, that he can't breathe, that he trembles inside and out and all he can think about is the color of his eyes, and his soft smiles outlining his lips.
Yuri doesn't know and yet—
Surging with his pain, and augmented by Yuuri's happy laughter with Victor, the itch he has felt since that day becomes unbearable. It opens a path from his chest through his throat, clawing at him like vicious little hands trying to find their way out, and when it finally does, something comes out of his mouth; coughs. It's soft, almost dismissive, until it's not.
The coughing increases in noisy convulsions that come one after another until the hand that is pressed against his mouth, trying unsuccessfully to appease the noise is completely filled by a flower.
By reflex he clenches his fist, trying to hide it from prying eyes even if everyone in the rink is minding their own business.
The softness of the single flower in his hand that seems to weigh a thousand times more than it actually does, answers the question he asked himself long ago, in that spring of what seems like a lifetime ago when his pain began.
Is it possible to get sick from unrequited love?
Apparently the answer is yes.
When the first flower is expelled through his throat, Yuri is startled because that can't be normal. People don't go around spitting out flowers.
Hanahaki: A disease of the human body that causes sufferers to cough up flowers because of unrequited love.
Ah! The realization comes through like a stab in the solar plexus.
Love, a short word, only two vowels and two consonants, of which Yuri wishes he had no idea.
He looks at the flowers in his hands, they are strangely beautiful, yet unlike his quest to know why he coughed them up, he refuses to discover the meaning of the flowers.
"It's a part of me that Yuuri doesn't want", he tells himself. The flowers represent that part of him that Yuuri never wanted (a part he sometimes despises himself). They represent the dying part of himself that is consumed in desire and longing. The flowers represent the love that tears at his chest and that is all there is to know.
The coughs get worse until one day it is hard to hide them, they are much more aggressive when the owner of their affection is in the surrounding area.
Mila is the first to notice. He'd had a slight break when Yuuri and Victor had stayed in Japan, it's not as if the appearance of the flowers had stopped completely, but the amount of flowers he found himself spitting out per day had decreased enough that Yuri could even pretend they just weren't happening. However, with the two of them back in Russia, his illness seemed to be trying to make up for lost time.
He hears Yuuri's laughter, a soft tone that startles his heart and then, there it is! The ache that makes its way into his chest and builds up, until his palm is filled by a flower.
He crushes it without remorse, the soft petals tearing and shattering under the pressure and when he looks up, Mila's eyes are on his.
"Oh!", she says, and it lacks the tone she usually uses with him that makes him feel vulnerable. The soft look she looks at him with only makes it worse. "They will eventually fade, Yuri."
Her voice is soft as is her gaze, and Yuri finds himself squeezing the flower in his hand tighter. Part of him wants to believe it. The other part that agonizes and vibrates at everything about Katsuki Yuuri, scoffs at his naivety.
When Mila approaches with what seems like a clear intention to hug him, Yuri pulls back.
"Don't you dare, Witch", the latter a desperate attempt to regain the common flow of their interactions.
"You are very bad, Yuri", her friend says. And Yuri sighs gratefully, pretending just for a moment that his chest doesn't constrict every time Yuuri Katsuki enters his field of vision.
Yuuri's laughter rings out again and Yurio clings to the mantra that given enough time his illness will fade.
"I could give you surgery", Otabek tells him, on one of his rare visits. "You know, the infection can be undone with an operation. They'd rip the problem out by the roots".
He has the same look on his face as Mila did when he first realized what was going on. It's a look he was tired of receiving, it's a look full of sorrow and grief, because: "you are so young, Yuri, so young to feel such a heartbreaking love," Sara had said in one of her strange visits to Mila. A look that convalesced him, as if he was about to burst into tears or die.
So, Yuri makes a noncommittal sound.
Yuri may be seventeen but he knows a lot of things. He knows how to cook, he knows how to manage a house and how much it costs to maintain it. He knows how to speak two languages besides Russian. He knows what the pain of a broken promise feels like. He also knows the exact color of Yuuri's eyes in daylight, a shade of brown with golden flecks. He knows the exact sound of his laughter. And he knows that despite the pain he feels with every breath when he is in the same room as him, he could never get rid of his love.
Because despite being a part of him that he sometimes detests, it is a part that is still his —and partly Yuuri's— plus, there is something even sadder about the thought of tearing the roots of his love from his heart. Something that feels completely wrong and wrong. So he'd rather cling to the idea that in time it will all pass.
Because at the end of the day, he had always been aware that the chances of his love being reciprocated were less than thirty percent. He had never deluded himself about it, and although, there had been no shortage of fantasies of a requited love, Yuri knew how hard reality and life in general could be.
So he was not offended when Otabek added as an afterthought:
"Although... they are really beautiful flowers", his eyes roaming over the last flower Yuri had coughed up. Yuri makes a sound with his throat that Otabek misunderstands. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to—"
"It's okay", Yuri cuts off what he's sure will be an apology. He had thought the same thing when he had thrown the first flower through his throat-and after doing his research.
He had thought, "so this is the image that my love has", then he had wanted to cry because it was another physical way of knowing that his feelings for Yuuri were never going to be reciprocated, no matter how beautiful they seemed.
Otabek looks at him unconvinced but doesn't add anything else, instead talking about his future competitions and his very likely trip to Canada with the intention of practicing for a season alongside his friend J.J.
Yuri nods absentmindedly, turning the flower as he tells himself that what is tearing at his chest is nothing. The firm belief and conviction that someday those feelings will go away. Not today, definitely not tomorrow, but someday, he would look at Katsuki Yuuri's smile and not feel like he is drowning. He would not feel his chest being pierced at the realization that he is not the cause, let alone the recipient of his love. So, until that day came, until the vines of his love wither and the flowers stop growing beautifully inside him —reflecting the intensity of his feelings—, he sees them shatter under the pressure of his fists. Because it's okay, and Yuri is an expert at pretending.
Although his condition is really annoying, Yuri gets used to it, until the affliction seems to take a turn and everything becomes complicated again.
The discomfort becomes overwhelming, especially when he is practicing on the ice rink.
However, with his coughing increasing, he finds it much more difficult to hide his illness.
So it's something of a miracle that things hadn't happened much earlier.
He practiced, that's not uncommon, he used to immerse himself in his practices with greater enthusiasm, trying to forget about the world and how close the owner of his affections is. Painting across the ice rink part of his dreams and longings. Seeing in the ice a way of catharsis for all that overwhelms him. This time, however, it's different.
As he glides and builds momentum for a jump, Yuuri's soft laughter comes to him filling every corner of the rink and his heart.
Joy and pain rush through his chest in a homogeneous mixture that always seems to announce to him what is to come. What has no announcement, is how fast the ground rushes to meet him.
"Yuri!" The fall doesn't compare to the pain and longing that erupts in his chest as Yuuri's voice calling his name and breaking the sudden silence that seems to envelop the arena, echoes.
His eyes automatically search Yuuri's brown ones. Worry paints the Japanese man's features. And though Yurio hates to be the cause of that expression, there is a small part of him that rejoices at his attention.
"I'm fine", Yurio utters, trying to get up, only to fall down a second time when his right ankle sends a lash of pain through his calf and leg. "Fuck".
He mutters, seconds before being helped up by Yuuri.
His skin burns where he touches it and Yuri wants to cry because it's been five months, twelve days and eight hours since he's been this close to Yuuri. Since Yuuri decided to give him some of his attention.
He takes him to the infirmary, sits next to him and pays utmost attention to what the doctor is doing. His eyes never meet his. When the doctor finally finishes and leaves them relatively alone, Yuuri still avoids his gaze.
"You should come back", Yura tells him, unable to continue the overwhelming silence. Painfully certain that despite his offer to take him to the infirmary, Yuuri Katsuki wishes he was anywhere he wasn't.
"No..." Yuuri mutters, discomfort reflected in his every gesture, his gaze still still not meeting his.
And despite the fact that this is the first time in months since they've been close enough to start a conversation. The awkwardness creeping like a thick fog over them, he's not sure it's an improvement. In fact it isn't at all.
"Katsudon..." says Yura, his tone lacking its usual strength despite using one of his favorite nicknames to address him. He's too tired to pretend that his reluctant presence doesn't feel like razors piercing his chest. "Why are you still here?"
Yuuri flinches as if he had slapped him. However, he takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders, and finally gathers enough courage to meet her gaze.
"I'm sorry..." Yuuri utters, the intonation soft. "I'm sorry I don't feel the same... b-but... I-I... miss you".
Oh! Yuri looks at him, all courage seems to have left his body. His cheeks are red as pomegranates, and he is so painfully beautiful in the artificial light of the lamps, Yuri finds himself holding his chest. Summoned by his thoughts and longings, an itch begins to work its way down his throat.
"Not now", Yurio thinks in panic. "Not in front of him".
He pleads, because Yuuri might —or might not— be aware of the disease he unwittingly gave him, but Yuri is not ready to see his reaction to his ailment; he doesn't think himself brave enough to meet his gaze at the physical evidence of his affection.
"Yurio..." Yuuri utters with concern.
The sound of coughing spills from his lips, and along with it, so does a flower. It's beautiful as always, showing itself in a flamboyant and lively way for Yuuri to see, so, it makes Yurio feel particularly cruel when he crushes it. The petals break off and shatter under the pressure of his fingers.
When his gaze meets Yuuri's again, there is a pained expression marring his features, as if looking at the plucked and crushed flower in his hand physically hurts.
"I'm sorry", the japanese man utters again. His voice is shaky and Yurio doesn't want to keep looking at him because he identifies that voice, it is the broken tone that announces tears. And he is already weak enough when it comes to Katsudon to deal with his tears, especially given the current circumstances, as quite possibly his first instinctive reaction would be to try to wipe them away, stop them, and possibly kiss them. Which would not go well for either of them.
"You don't have to apologize, they will fade with time", he says, echoing the words that all those who know of his ailment have been repeating to him, conveying nothing more than an excuse to get away from the sorrow shining in Yuuri's eyes, focusing his gaze on the shattered flower, part of the leaves have fallen to the ground and Yuri feels the sudden urge to crush them with his foot.
"I'm sorry to be the cause of this", Yuuri follows his gaze and repeats. Yurio wants to protest again but a new coughing fit breaks out and Yuuri's hand shoots out on his back to start drawing soothing movements. His intoxicating scent fills his lungs once the coughing begins to subside and Yuri simply wants to sink into the comfort he seems to offer, too tired of carrying a love that doesn't seem to vary no matter the time and pain. Instead, he readjusts his posture and pulls away slightly, aware of what it causes to feed his longing.
"I already told you that you don't have to—"
"I know but..." mutters Yuuri, biting his lower lip slightly. Guilt overwhelms him because despite not returning his feelings there is a longing for the young Russian's company that urges him to say. "I really regret not feeling the same, especially because, I miss spending time with you. And I know I was the one who pulled away but, I thought it would be easier for you to cope and get over it if I wasn't around. But I... I really, really, really want to spend time with you again".
Yuri is at a loss, not knowing what to focus on first. Happiness and fear fill his chest at the same time.
Yuuri doesn't love him the way he does, but despite the blatant and hurtful avoidance he's been treating him with, their friendship —though tainted due to Yurio's confession— is something he wants back.
"I-I miss you too", Yura says at the end. Painfully aware that he is about to burn like Icarus trying to reach the sun. The way it always goes when it comes to Katsuki Yuuri.
His wings drop just as his shoulders are encircled by Yuuri's arms, because the pain of being close to Yuuri without his feelings being accepted doesn't compare to the pain of having nothing at all. So, Yurio swallows the pain and disappointment and clings to the only rope Yuuri gives him.
Their interactions are back to what they were the first times the two were forced to interact when they both wished to be trained by Victor and love was a fuzzy image that they both found difficult to comprehend.
"G-good morning Yurio, you're early today", Yuuri's voice is slightly strained and his smile shaky, his brown eyes barely looking directly at him.
It's unbearable the way they now seem to move. Interactions that over time had become fluid, even the simplest actions and gestures, have been ruined under the pressure that Yuri's feelings have put on them and he hates it. However, Yuuri is trying hard, trying day by day to regain some of the lost ground and Yurio will not be the one to back down because of a simple case of heartbreak and unrequited love.
"Good morning Katsudon", he says and manages to give him a genuine smile. It feels like a victory when Yuuri's posture relaxes and for a moment, he can actually believe that he will make it, that one day he will be able to see him and not feel his stomach flutter and his heart want to burst out of his chest to land on his hands.
However that day isn't today, especially when the now familiar cough rushes down his throat and the familiar pain that heralds a new flower scrapes his throat.
"A-are you okay?" Asks Yuuri. The initial shock of seeing him spit out flowers has faded with time, yet it doesn't stop the guilt from flashing across his face.
Yurio nods, not yet confident of uttering words. Instead he looks at the new flower that has sprouted, its beauty is almost offensive and Yurio is ready to crush it, still unsure of having the evidence of his love in full view of the causer, not only for what they mean to him but for the guilt that covers Yuuri's face as he fixes his eyes on them.
Before his fist clenches, however, Yuuri's hand stops him.
He stands completely still, and when he looks at the japanese competitor, his eyes are fixed on his hands.
"No Yuri", Yuuri's voice has a slight tinge of pleading that Yurio cannot deny, especially when he sees their hands joined in a sort of dome that seems to protect the evidence of their love.
"Why?" Yurio asks. Hope begins to rear its ugly head, but Yuri crushes it mercilessly. Yuuri's brown eyes reflect his insecurity and perhaps bewilderment.
"I'd like to keep her", the Japanese man finally replies. His voice is soft and although it is not the answer Yurio desires, he places the flower in his hand. "It's really beautiful".
There is a hard-to-identify feeling in the way Yuuri looks at the flower. The smile is soft and though Yurio's heart leaps with renewed hope, he forces himself to crush it, after all, flowers are a clear and forceful symbol that his love will never be reciprocated.
And despite the unoptimistic symbolism of what the flowers represent, for the first time since the first flower left his lips and found itself crushed and destroyed under the pressure of his fingers, it finds itself surviving under the protection of the one whose rejection had caused its birth.
Sometimes Yurio found himself looking into the past, trying to decipher the moment when his feelings had changed and he had fallen in love.
Trying to figure out when and where it was that his fate had been decided. When Yuuri's insecure, shy and kind attitude had stopped exasperating him and had become that which made his heart pound.
Naively thinking that perhaps if he could decipher the exact moment when his feelings had changed, it would be easier for him to get rid of the love, which despite the time that had passed, seemed to have no variation whatsoever. Day after day, flowers emerge through his throat as achingly beautiful as the first day.
And yet, when realization breaks through, his love is not extinguished.
The awareness of that day appears fresh and vivid. He can see Yuuri shining on the ice rink, that first time they faced each other as rivals, the sinuous movements and confidence he had projected as he glided across the rink like a fallen angel inviting sin.
The disbelief of being defeated overshadowed by the pounding of his racing heart at how absolutely dazzling the Katsudon had appeared.
The realization that, despite having lost, his heart was aching for an entirely different reason and one that at the time had been difficult for him to fully comprehend.
Yes, Yuri may have it clear now, however, that makes no difference whatsoever, not when the flower so bright and pristine comes spewing out of his throat summoned by his memories and longings.
The days go by and Yuri gets used to his illness to the point that he sometimes forgets that it is not normal to cough up flowers.
They have become a constant, and despite the tragic significance of their meaning, Yurio cannot hate them, never has, despite what his way of dealing with them at first might suggest. Crushing them had been a misguided attempt at catharsis and pretense. An attempt to fool himself, to pretend that it didn't really matter so much about the love rooted inside him, that the flower-shaped evidence meant nothing and that the sooner he got rid of them, the sooner he could eliminate any hint of loving feelings for the Katsudon.
But now, after Yuuri's request, it becomes much more obvious.
Every flower is from that day on placed almost religiously on Yuuri's soft hands. And although Yurio still doesn't fully understand his strange request, without fail he finds himself placing each flower. The gentle smile with which Yuuri receives them gives him a kind of relief and catharsis far more effective than his futile attempt to see them shatter under the pressure of his hands. It gives him a strange sense of happiness to place each new flower in his hands because despite being physical evidence of his unrequited feelings, they are not entirely useless if with each flower delivered he can see Yuuri Katsuki smile like that.
"There's a new coffee shop near my apartment", Yuuri's voice is soft and shy. His brown eyes barely glance at Yuri's green ones. The sight is so endearing that Yurio is surprised he's not coughing up a bunch of flowers at that moment. "M-maybe, we can go after practice?"
His voice loses strength at the end, his gaze finally meeting Yuri's squarely. His cheeks are flushed and he fiddles with his fingers. His brown hair is slightly disheveled, as if he has run his hands over and over, and there are only so many emotions Yuri can take.
With a deep breath, he grabs Yuuri by the front of his jacket and before all the courage evaporates, he kisses him.
The sound of disbelief escaping Yuuri's throat is completely overshadowed by the frantic beating of Yurio's heart ringing in his ears.
Desire curling in his belly as Yuuri finally moves his lips in time with him and tangles his hand in his hair. Hope springs up like the flowers he finds himself spitting out day after day, telling him that at last the wait has been worth it. He moans into the kiss and clings to the illusion and hope as Yuuri's tongue tentatively finds its way between his lips. However, the time that seemed to have stopped picks up its pace when a clap resounds like thunder shattering the sky, in the silent ice rink and Yuuri pushes him violently almost sending him to the ground.
The realization of what he has done sinks in as he watches the way Yuuri recoils from him and avoids his gaze, Mila who was the one who had applauded pales and guilt covers her features.
"I'm sorry, Yuri", Mila's words lose meaning as he watches Yuuri run away.
His green eyes fill with tears but he refuses to let them fall.
"It's not your fault", Yura replies without daring to look her in the eyes, swallowing the lump in his throat, because it's the truth, if anyone has tainted and ruined for the second time his friendship with Yuuri it's him.
So, with more moderate steps than Yuuri's, he too flees.
For eight days he stays away from the ice rink fearful of what he will find in Yuuri's eyes when he sees him. He ignores Yakov's calls, Lilia's calls, Mila's calls, but when his screen lights up and Yuuri Katsuki's name comes into view, he finally turns off his cell phone. He isn't ready to find out what his recklessness has done to their relationship.
So, for five days he clings to the comfort his grandpa gives him but when during the sixth day he finally realizes that the coughs and his flowers are gone, tears finally run down his cheeks like rivers.
At first he dismisses it because his condition usually wanes when he is away from the Katsudon, but when the flowers stop coming, it can only mean that finally his love was consumed and perished.
However, far from having the relief of knowing that he was finally getting over his unrequited love, an even bigger hole is unleashed in his chest. Especially when, as he closes his eyes, he can see Yuuri's frightened look before he runs away from him.
Maybe it is that, he thinks, the blatant way his love scares Yuuri that finally gave way for the roots of their love to begin to wither.
Yuri doesn't know and isn't sure, especially when it still hurts to think of Yuuri and he feels the same longing as the time he first realized he was in love. However, the disappearance of the flowers puzzles and confuses him, because the only other option is that Yuuri... Is that Yuuri returns his feelings, which sounds even sillier. So, Yuri shakes his head and mocks himself for the hope he still holds despite the obvious that Yuuri despises his feelings.
However, it is during the eighth day while watching the twilight paint the sky in shades of orange, reddish and pink, sitting at the table his grandpa has in his garden, that Yuuri appears.
"H-hello Yuri", Katsuki's voice is soft. And his posture a futile attempt to look relaxed as he approaches. The panic of seeing him there, in his safe haven, almost makes him jump and want to hide in his room, however, Yurio also wants to say a lot of things that in the end get stuck in his throat and he does neither one nor the other, and stares still pointlessly over Yuuri's shoulder without daring to look him in the eyes.
"What are you doing here?" Yurio finally inquires, the tired tone lacking the accusation he intended his voice to come out with. Yuuri's posture slumps and for a second he looks as tired as him.
"You haven't been to the rink", Yuuri says as he shrugs. "Nor have you answered my calls".
The almost accusation isn't lost on Yurio as the Katsudon moves even closer and is soon right in front of him.
His brown eyes draw his all too easily, and the longing is so strong that Yurio wonders briefly if the flowers will ever make an appearance again, after all, with the Katsudon in front of him, it is even clearer that the strength of his feelings remains unchanged.
The intensity with which Yuuri looks at him makes him feel ashamed that he had been avoiding confronting what his actions had caused.
"I-I... I didn't think you wanted to see me", Yura finally admits, his cheeks feeling hot with embarrassment and he can't look Yuuri in the eye. "And besides, I-I don't think I can handle your rejection for the third time".
He confesses and the sigh Yuuri lets out is felt in his every bone, fear curls in his belly and he closes his eyes ready to receive the rejection he was running away from for so long.
Instead, his cheeks are held and Yuuri's warm lips rest on his. The exclamation of surprise is lost as Yuuri pushes his tongue through his lips. The sweet taste of his mouth makes him moan and despite wanting so badly to lose himself in the sensations those lips profess to him, the memory of what happened eight days earlier dulls any hope he might feel. So with some regret he pushes Yuuri away in an ironic reminiscence of their kiss eight days earlier.
"D-don't be c-cruel..." Yurio's voice cracks and the tears finally come out. He would never have thought of Yuuri as this type of person but, the pain in his chest from being toyed with finally releases the emotions he had been holding back.
"No, Yura!" Yuuri exclaims in panic, however, it is the way he pronounces his name that finally makes Yurio look at him again. A pained expression covers Yuuri's face and his hands seem to want to reach for him, however in the end he clenches his hands into fists and when he realizes he has Yura's full attention, he finally speaks. "I-I... I'm not playing with you. I just... I didn't know... ugh... this is so hard Yuri... I... l-love you too".
He lets out finally, his cheeks are flushed and his breathing is heavy, yet his gaze doesn't waver.
"B-but you rejected me", Yurio recalls in disbelief. "Even when I kissed you, you pushed me away".
The last comes out in an embarrassed, pained mumble. The cheeks seem to turn even redder.
"I-it's not what you think Yuri", embarrassment colors his tone and his hands have started to writhe. "Mila-san surprised me and... you're so young Yuri, I didn't want to cause you trouble. And... Besides, after I realized what I had done, I tried to look for you but you were gone. Then you didn't show up at the rink again and I thought it would be for the best. Yuri, he deserves better, I told myself. However, just the thought of that happening, of Yuri giving his feelings to someone else, made everything feel so wrong and I felt so... angry and frustrated. That's when I finally realized that I... I love you too, Yuri. So, be my boyfriend please".
Yuri blinks in confusion. The realization of what had happened eight days earlier and the sudden confession slowly sinks in. His heart races and hope springs up as strong as the roots of love that still fill his heart.
However, at his prolonged silence, Yuuri stirs uncomfortably, causing a look of resigned sadness to settle over his features. It had been too long since Yuri first confessed his feelings, there was an almost certainty that told him the young Russian would soon realize he could do better than him. Because what could he offer him?
"You're an idiot Katsudon", Yuri finally breaks the silence. Reading Yuuri like a book, seeing in his posture and look every insecurity. He stands up and without hesitation his hand rests on his cheek, a lump forms in his throat as Yuuri surrenders to the caress. "However, I love you. So, I'll be your boyfriend, Yuuri".
His reply draws a shaky sigh from Yuuri moments before he kisses him. Finally after six months with three days and twelve hours, his feelings are reciprocated.
Yuri looks at the resin-covered flower. The first flower he placed on Yuuri's hands decorating his coffee table in the living room.
He had never thought about what those flowers meant beyond physical proof of his unrequited love, but now, given the turn of events, Yuri photographs the flower and searches the internet.
Anemone: This flower indicates declining hope and a feeling of having been abandoned. On the positive side it symbolizes "I would like to be with you". It represents expectation, consideration and honesty.
The meaning is repeated while observing the way Yuuri has kept the flower.
Emotion builds and tears and laughter blossoms at the same time, because in the end despite the symbolism of what spitting flowers mean, the flower itself had its own meaning. For it is now clear that Yuuri's feelings had always been there, they just hadn't been acknowledged, so when clarity finally made its way into the young japanese, the flowers stopped bursting from Yuri's chest because his love was ready to move on.
Yuuri is puzzled as he walks into his small living room and looks at his boyfriend —his heart still racing at the sweet thought—, who sits on the couch clutching the flower that on impulse he had sent to be kept in resin. He swallows uncertainly as he looks at the tears.
"Yuri...?" Katsuki calls out to her boyfriend, his voice unsure as he approaches, if there's one thing he hates it's seeing Yuri cry and even more so after everything that's happened. The young blond is startled, then leaves the small flower on the coffee table and jumps up to wrap Yuuri in a tight hug.
"I love you", Yura tells him in reply, and like every time he says it to him, Yuuri's heart races.
"I love you too", Katsuki utters. And as their lips meet in a deep kiss, spring glows.
The end.