The pair of them grabbed their shoes and pulled them on. Yuuri thought about how it had only been the previous night that he'd found Viktor again. It felt like that had been months ago. He managed to hail a taxi carriage driver, and held the door open for Viktor. He offered his hand to hand to help him up, but Viktor didn't take it. Beneath Viktor's smile was confusion, which saddened Yuuri. He simply stepped into the cab, and Yuuri followed suit.
The two of them sat down on the worn, ripped seat cushions and faced each other. When the rickety carriage lurched over a pot-hole, they both slid forward and Yuuri nearly ended up on the floor. The awkward silence between them was so palpable that one could almost cut through it with a knife. Yuuri found it difficult to look directly at Viktor, so he stared intently at his boots instead. He had no idea what to say, and apparently Viktor didn't either. He was just sitting there, aquamarine eyes unfocused and a hollow facade of pleasantness obscuring his true emotions.
Yuuri was painfully reminded of the fact that Viktor probably thought that he was just a pervert who had bought him for sex. He wished that he could inform him that that wasn't the case, but all the confidence he had displayed earlier had vanished into thin air. Both of them silently watched the buildings pass by through the dirt-stained windows. Yuuri turned his head when he thought he heard a stifled yawn. Viktor's eyes were wide, and a hand was pressed to his mouth. Immediately, he lowered his gaze and head.
"I am sorry if I was too loud, Master." Yuuri tried his best not to cringe. There it was again. Master. He hated the term very much, but he had no idea how to say how uncomfortable it made him. Hopefully, Viktor would eventually realize that Yuuri wanted them to be equals and stop calling him that.
"Are you tired?" Yuuri asked gently, concerned. He had glimpsed a corset cinching Viktor's waist from the gaps between his fingers earlier, when he had been getting dressed. He recalled the angry red flesh and wondered how long he'd been wearing that dreadful thing. Presumably, he hadn't unlaced it the entire night; Yuuri couldn't imagine that that led to very restful sleep.
"No, I am fine," Viktor told him with a forced smile, conspicuously struggling to keep his eyes open. His silver eyelashes fluttered, and his shimmering blue-green wings were collapsed with exhaustion. Yuuri could see him pinching himself with his nails to try and keep himself awake. Little crescent moon marks with scarlet blood beading up at the seams stood out against the pale canvas of his skin. Guilt swelled up within Yuuri. Viktor was willing to hurt himself in order to avoid displeasing him. It absolutely devastated him. How much had Viktor endured to have been conditioned like this?
"It's okay for you to sleep," Yuuri assured timidly. Viktor gritted his teeth to cover another yawn. Every time he blinked, his eyelids slipped further and further down. His limbs looked as if they were weighted with lead, and eventually his breathing slowed and his head drooped forward. The coach went over a bump, and he slumped onto his side on the seat. His delicate body kept getting jarred as they careened into ruts, and yet he looked so peaceful. Yuuri felt the urge to move over there and hold him close so that he wouldn't be jostled by the pot holes and mounds on the crudely paved road. He didn't dare to, though. Viktor might wake up and think that he had ill intentions.
After the carriage jerked particularly violently, Viktor's ponytail slithered over his shoulder. It pooled on the filthy floor, and guilt clenched in Yuuri's belly. He didn't want that pretty hair to be touching the muddy bottom of the carriage. He made a split second decision and stood up, using the walls as support as the carriage jolted around. He almost fell, but caught himself. Seeing the city blur by outside, he began to feel ill. Hands trembling, he bent down and picked up the thick ponytail. It was so soft in his fingers… He almost felt like he was desecrating it by making contact with it.
As carefully as he could, Yuuri tucked the cord of hair underneath one of Viktor's massive wings, which looked painfully fragile in spite of their size. He waited a second to make sure that it didn't slip back again, then let out a breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He collapsed onto the seat, and a spring poking out jabbed his thigh.
"Ah!" He winced and rubbed the tender sore spot, then looked up to see familiar-looking parks and public buildings. They must almost be at his house.
Tapping his foot anxiously, he wondered if Viktor would like it there. He prayed that he would… He had a room with a high ceiling and skylight that wasn't far from his. Perhaps he could have some perches installed? He knew enough about fairies to know that they enjoyed basking in the sun above the ground, and he wanted Viktor to be as accommodated as for as possible.
The coach rolled to a halt, and Yuuri blinked to clear his thoughts. He stood, and nearly hit his head on the roof. What should he do about Viktor? He didn't want to rouse him, he had been so tired… Yuuri opened the door and took a deep breath, determined. He knew what he had to do.
Tenderly, he tucked an arm under Viktor's legs and one on his lower back below his wings. He could feel the corset under his touch, and sorrow tugged at his heart. Viktor was already thin, and then having this torture device crushing his lungs on top of that… Bitterly, Yuuri thought about his own corset. He wouldn't wish it on his worst enemies. Making sure that he had a good hold on Viktor, he lifted him up. He was far lighter than Yuuri had anticipated, but it was impossible to know if that was due to Viktor being a fae or to his slender frame. Perhaps both.
Viktor's head was resting on Yuuri's chest, glossy lipstick-smudged lips slightly parted. Yuuri gulped, pulse racing. 'He's beautiful.' Gingerly, he stepped onto the cobblestone street and Viktor's eyelashes fluttered again. Yuuri stood perfectly still and held his breath in fear of disturbing the exquisite creature in his arms. Viktor didn't stir, so Yuuri made his way to the front of the cab, where the driver was waiting expectantly.
When the man saw Yuuri carrying a fairy, he smirked. Yuuri clumsily maneuvered to procure some coins from his wallet. Carefully he reached up, upper arm supporting Viktor's head. The driver snatched the money up greedily, and then lashed the reins.
"Hi-ya!" The horses broke into a swift trot, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake. (It hadn't rained in awhile.) Yuuri's throat went dry, but he suppressed the coughs so that Viktor wouldn't be shaken. Curling his hand back onto Viktor's waist, he began slowly ascending his front steps. After an arduous climb, he shuffled in his pocket for his keys and thanked his lucky stars that they were still there. With a concentrated effort, he shakily unlocked the door and turned the brass knob.
Yuuri entered with a sigh, breathing in the familiar scent of his home. He realized that that had been the longest that he'd been out of the house in quite some time.