Viktor kept stealing glances at Yuuri. The more time that elapsed since he'd awoke, the less certain he was over whether or not the events he remembered from the previous night actually transpired, or had been a dream. His heart fluttered like a butterfly at the thought of it. Dream or not, he had embraced Yuuri so boldly! It was highly improprietous. And yet… It had been nice to be held in Yuuri's strong, warm embrace, even if it had only been his imagination. He smiled giddily at the thought.
Yuuri's behavior did not seem much out of the ordinary, so perhaps it really had been just a fragment of a dream, deeply suppressed desires rising to the surface. The thought flashed through his mind before he could filter it, and he banished it immediately. He refused to even consider the possibility.
Viktor finished his meal and placed his hands together.
"Gochisousama deshita!" He was aware that his accent was terrible, but he wanted to show his appreciation for the food; for the hands that prepared it, the plants the ingredients had come from, and the chicken the egg had come from. He thought fondly back on when Yuuri had explained the meanings of these sayings of his culture that he said before and after meals.
Viktor thought back sometimes, trying to recall if there were any similar sayings or gestures in his own native culture. He was sure that there were some, but the details were blurry. It was so frustrating. So many of the memories of his clan had been faded with time. He recalled songs and dances and stories, but there were gaps that would never be filled.
These thoughts tossed and turned in his head like churning waves of the sea as he patiently waited for Yuuri to finish eating. When he was done, Viktor gathered up the dishes and set them on the tray. He began in the direction of the sink so that he could wash the cups, saucers, plates, and utensils.
As he turned the corner into the kitchen, he accidentally tilted the tray.
"Vi-" Yuuri cried out in alarm, and Viktor quickly levelled out the platter again. A cup almost toppled onto the tile. Heart in his throat, he carefully continued forward. That had been a close save. He couldn't imagine if he'd broken any of this fine china. A memory of his old master screaming at him and beating him over a vase that he'd inadvertently knocked over darted into his head like a blast from a gun. The pangs in his stomach, the stinging bruises-
Viktor suddenly felt quite ill, and quickly placed the tray onto the counter. He placed a hand on the cold marble surface to steady himself, the world turning around him. He clutched at his stomach, the pungent taste of rancid meat suddenly graphic in his mind. The texture, the color, the stench-
He shook his head to try and expel these thoughts, but they continued their relentless barrage. Doing his best to ignore them, he determinedly scrubbed the dishes with shaky hands. Yuuri came over to assist him in the task, and seemed to immediately discern that something was wrong. Eyes brimming with concern, he gently took a bristle brush and saucer out of Viktor's hands and then led him to a nearby barstool.
His warm brown eyes searched Viktor's face. How fragile and pathetic Viktor felt, getting so upset over almost dropping a cup. He held up his hand and stared at how it trembled.
"Viktor?" Yuuri asked anxiously. His round spectacles had slipped partially down his nose. Viktor mustered a wobbly half-smile.
"I'm alright," he assured. Yuuri did not seem convinced. Slowly, he reached out and took Viktor's left hand comfortingly. He gave it a tender squeeze, and a tingling unrelated to the adrenaline that was still coursing through his system shot up his arm. With one more worried glance at Viktor, Yuuri went and finished washing the dishes. He scrubbed them until they sparkled and then carefully dried them and placed them in their homes in the cupboards.
Viktor watched, feeling guilty that he wasn't helping. Yuuri returned when he was done.
"Do you feel any better?" Viktor considered this. His nausea had lessened, his hands weren't shaking as violently, and his pulse no longer felt like lead being pumped through his veins. He nodded, and Yuuri gave him a relieved smile before shyly ducking his eyes away. "Come with me, I'd like to show you something."
Viktor stood, curious. His strength was returning to him. He followed Yuuri past down the hall and past both of their bedrooms. They stopped in front of the supply closet at the end of the corridor. Well, more of a supply room, really. It smelled of must and was full of old furniture and boxes, covered with sheets. Yuuri appeared to be thinking, as if trying to remember something. It was fascinating to watch him; one could almost see his mind working. He suddenly spun around and pushed aside a chair. A cloud of dust floated up, and he sneezed.
He made this cute little scrunched-up face, and Viktor giggled. He quickly pressed his right hand to his mouth without thinking, awkwardly only covering part of it without his index finger. Yuuri shot a small smile back at him. He stepped back, revealing a large box with a horn affixed to the top of it. Viktor's lips formed an 'o.' A gramophone? Inquisitive, he took a step forward.
"I remember my aunt and uncle receiving this a few years back, before they moved. I don't believe they used it very much. They never did like the novelty of new-fangled devices." Viktor tried to keep down his excitement. "There's a box of records somewhere around here, I thought we might…?" Yuuri gave him a sheepish look, rubbing the back of his neck. "I know it's probably a foolish idea, but I was just thinking that it might help you to sleep better?"
Viktor was speechless. His first thought was how kind and considerate Yuuri was. That was as brief and fleeting as the dying rays of light at sunset. Apprehension over whether his restless nights had been disturbing Yuuri overcame him. 'So did Yuuri actually come into my room last night?' he thought with horror. Yuuri must have seen the look on his face.
"Viktor?" he asked carefully. His warm chocolatey eyes were brimming with compassion. "I don't want you to suffer from nightmares anymore," he said quietly.
Viktor's cheeks suddenly felt warm, and he again felt that strange feeling: the one that was almost like happiness, but more melty inside. Yuuri got onto his knees to examine a dusty crate. Viktor peeked over his shoulder curiously, head tilted, and held his hair back so that it didn't fall in the way.
"There's some good ones here," Yuuri mused to himself, shuffling through the black discs with grooves on them. He hefted up the gramophone, with its large bronze-colored horn opening up like a flower. Viktor could see his muscles straining under his long-sleeved navy blue jinbei. Guilt seeped into Viktor's nerves. Shouldn't he be the one carrying it for him?
"I've got it," Yuuri said quickly. He placed the phonograph down on the edge of the open area in the middle of the storage room. "I thought it would be easier to try it out like this," Yuuri explained. "Which disc would you like to hear first?"
Panic flashed through Viktor, terrified at the prospect of not being able to read the labels. But then Yuuri dragged the box out and beside the gramophone.
"Here's Swan Lake…" He held up the record so that Viktor could see. It looked exactly the same as all the others to him. "It's from a ballet about a girl who has been enchanted to be a swan during the day."
A ballet… Viktor had never been to one of those before. He pictured figures twirling about to music. Humans, ones that were nearly as graceful and lithe as fairies from what he'd heard.
"We should listen to that one!" he blurted out enthusiastically before he could stop himself. Once more, his hand flew to cover his mouth. "I'm sorry."
"No, no, it's alright." Yuuri looked up at him with those gentle eyes, and Viktor felt his light touch brushing against his elbow. The contact sent a shiver down his spine and his heart aflutter. Yuuri's hand slipped away, and he turned back to position the record on the gramophone.
"Look, it's a Victor phonograph," he pointed out with a little smile. It was infectious, and Viktor became aware that he was also smiling. It was so nice for Yuuri to tell him that; otherwise he would never have known. Viktor watched with great intrigue as Yuuri began turning a handle on the side of the base of the gramophone. He cranked it many times, then stopped and let go.
The disc started to spin, and Viktor observed in amazement. There had been gramophones at parties that he'd played harp at before, but he'd never been so close to one before. Yuuri carefully lowered the arm and set the needle into the groove. There were strange, garbled notes for a moment, and then beautiful, clear tones rang out through the air. Viktor's lips parted, eyes wide. How did it work? It was almost like magic.
Yuuri straightened up and turned to face him. Viktor grinned.
"It's amazing!"he exclaimed. Yuuri returned the smile, then blinked and looked off into a corner of the room. He pulled his gaze back, then slowly extended a hand with the palm up.
"Dance with me?"
Viktor's heartbeat raced like a galloping horse, and he found himself searching Yuuri's face. Could this me some sort of trick to humiliate him? But Yuuri's eyes were as amiable and earnest as ever, and Viktor felt bad for doubting him so quickly. He swallowed, and then did something that he never would have even considered a few months ago. He placed his left hand in Yuuri Katsuki's right one.
(Thank you all for the amazing comments, and thanks for sticking with me thus far. I'll let you know when the new arc begins )