Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Happy birthday, Yuuri!”

Yuuri's standing in the doorway of his childhood home, closing the door behind him and Vicchan before the winter chill can follow them inside. There's a dusting of snow on his hat and shoulders from the flurry outside, which the weather report says is supposed to linger throughout the night. It's the kind of weather that begs one to return home and snuggle up beneath the covers.

Yuuri replies in his mother's native tongue. “Technically, it's still a few days away.”

Given that his birthday is in the dead center of the work week this year, it was either come home before or after to properly celebrate with his family. Yuuri opted for an earlier celebration, given work obligations as well as his group's usual plans to stream this coming weekend. It's best not to disturb anyone else's plans for the week if he can help it. It doesn't make much difference to Yuuri either way, but it does feel a little odd to hear those two celebratory words days before he's technically rolled over into the next year of his life. Not that his mother seems to mind.

Shorter than him, his aging mother smiles up at him with all the happiness in the world. She continues on in Japanese. “Well, for today it is. Dinner's almost ready, you're just in time. Minako-senpai is already here and waiting for you.”

Of course she beat me here, Yuuri thinks with an exasperated smile. Birthday's are a perfect excuse to let loose, and there's nothing his boss loves more than partying it up back home. “Phichit-kun couldn't make it,” he says, as he shrugs off his jacket and hangs it on a nearby coat stand. “But he wishes you well and promises to be here for the holidays.”

“Wonderful. I'll have his usual room set up for him.” His mother turns to walk further inside their home, then stops and turns back to him when Yuuri doesn't immediately follow. “Yuuri? Come inside and warm up, it's chilly back here.”

Down on the floor, Vicchan yips as if in agreement. He takes off the second the leash is unclipped from his collar, dashing further inside to where he knows where warmth and good company reside.

Yuuri answers, “Yes, okaasan.” With a deep, settling breath, he takes his first step onto the old, familiar wooden floor and back into his home.

It's not the largest place in the world, maybe not even the fanciest in some people's eyes, but it's the coziest place Yuuri's ever lived, and he can't help but feel the weight of everything lift a little higher off his shoulders as he walks inside.

His childhood home is situated at the back of a privately owned bed and breakfast. His parents have lived and worked here longer than Yuuri can remember, having moved to the states before he was born but shortly after his older sister took her first breath. While the outside is an older western style building, much of the inside leans towards eastern aesthetics. Over the years, his parents have brought in as much from back home as they could to their new life on the other side of the world. There's nothing like classic shoji sliding doors, but there's still tatami mats on some of the floors, a large kotatsu in the living room that Yuuri has had many a late night gaming with, and low tables and cushions for his family to relax with closer to the ground.

As Yuuri heads inside, he smiles at the the walls that carry lovingly framed photos of his family over the years. His parents as a young couple in the 80s and 90s, his sister and him growing up between picture frames, then random moments over the years of bright accomplishments and shared family memories. There's even a small scattering of photos of Vicchan from Yuuri first got him a few years ago. There's also photos and memorabilia of Hasetsu, Japan, a quaint place where his parents grew up and fell in love in. Yuuri's family has visited sporadically over the course of his childhood, but it's been a long time since then. Some part of him misses the otherworldly hot springs other members of their family run like he's meant to be there right now, soaking his tired bones in healing waters.

However, here is good, too.

It's not just their private home that feels like a strange blend of nostalgia for a place he barely knows and an acceptance of the one he does. The front of the establishment carries much of this blending of two worlds as well, which makes it quite the attraction for locals and tourists of many backgrounds looking for a quiet place to come back to. You could come here for the night, or simply visit the mini restaurant up front for some good, authentic food for an hour or two. With his parent's homemade cooking and carefully kept business, this is a hard place to say no to, even for a few hours.

Yuuri's home is nothing quite like the world when he steps outside, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

Stepping into the living room, Yuuri flinches from the sudden explosion of a party cracker.

“Welcome back, nerd!” he hears his sister first. She holds the remains of the party cracker in her hand, smirking at the way the confetti flies wildly at her younger brother.

Seated at the kotatsu, Vicchan curled up in her lap, Minaki chimes in with an impatient, “Finally! You kept us waiting. Your father wouldn't let us crack into the good sake until you got here. Hiroko-chan, get the glassware, I'm parched!”

Third, but not least, is Yuuri's father, who slowly lifts himself off the floor with cracking knees to greet Yuuri closer at eye level. “Okaeri, Yuuri. We've been waiting for you.”

Yuuri smiles back at everyone, grateful to be back after too many months of being away. It's been far too long. “Tadaima.”

-

It's not a birthday celebration without a very special dinner.

With all the reverence in the world, Yuuri's mother sits down a full bowl of katsudon before him. The pork and rice are still steaming, their savoury scent wafting in the air like an enchanting spell that makes Yuuri want to dive in like a ferocious animal.

He manages to hold back, for the sake of courtesy.

Next to him, Vicchan openly drools, licking at his lips over and over again as if he can already taste it.

(Yuuri will wait until his parents aren't looking before he'll sneak the tiniest piece of pork to him.)

“Damn, just look at him,” Mari teases from the other side of the table. Her hand fidgets next to her bowl, likely from the need to hold a cigarette, but their parents have really cracked down on her smoking inside these past few years. “Ten seconds in and he already looks like he wants to weep from joy.”

Their mother smiles, even as she lightly reprimands with, “It's been a long time. Let him enjoy.”

Downing her third glass of sake, Minako tries her best to hide a hiccup behind the back of her hand. “He's been working his ass off lately. If anyone's earned this, it's him.”

Yuuri picks up his chop sticks, expression carefully neutral despite the screaming need to chow down. “It's my birthday dinner. If I want to weep over perfect katsudon, then I will.”

Mari snickers. “Spoken like a true glutton.”

“Damn right,” Yuuri shoots back.

Settled around the kotatsu, everyone digs into their meal and catches up. Snow fluttering outside the window, the television distantly playing in the background, and with the kotatsu heating at a perfect temperature, it's the perfect set up for a night in.

Yuuri's quiet through most of dinner, far too immersed in the perfection rolling across his tongue at the moment, though his mother talks softly to him about all the family updates that have occurred in his absence.

“Vicchan's Christmas sweater is almost done,” she informs him. “I decided to go for a wintry theme this year. It's quite the fun challenge to knit little snowflakes.”

In between them, Vicchan's tail begins to wag. Of course the little gremlin heard his name and assumed it meant something positive for him.

Yuuri nods along, swallowing the large bite of food in his mouth so he can answer her. “He's worn out the one from last year already. I'm sorry. I know they usually last longer than this. I keep catching him chewing on it when it's not on him. I have to hide it when he's not looking.”

His mother chuckles. “He's still such a puppy, even though he's a few years old now. I did notice it looking a little rough for wear when he came in. I'm just happy he likes it so much.”

“A little too much, if anything,” Yuuri sighs.

As soon as his mother turns away to say something to her husband, Yuuri sneaks Vicchan a quick piece of pork. Just so he stops drooling so hard on the mat already.

Smacking his lips, Vicchan puts a paw on Yuuri's leg and turns the puppy dog eyes up to eleven.

“I know,” Yuuri says to him with sympathy. “But the rest is mine, okay?” He's gotten pretty good at making this himself back in the apartment he shares with Phichit, but truly nothing compares to his parent's cooking. He's sure Vicchan agrees. There's just something about it that he can't quite mimic yet, although he's sure he can get there in time.

It makes him wish Viktor were here to enjoy this with him. With all of them.

... Not that any of his family know about Viktor yet.

Yuuri takes another bite of his meal to try and stuff the guilt down.

“... Oh yes, the students are still all quite intimidated by your son,” Minako explains to his parents. “Yuuri-kun will demonstrate a new move for them, and their jaws will be on the floor before he's even finished! He's actually quite the distraction for some of them. I'm sure too many of them are discovering what 'love' is for the first time. Isn't that funny? At least I'm making money off it.”

Flushing, Yuuri tries his best not to choke.

“That's my boy!” his father laughs, cheeks rosy from several glasses of sake. If anyone can match Minako's speed, it's him. “He's becoming quite the lady-killer.”

Minako snorts at the grossly inaccurate comment, but like she promised months ago, she keeps her mouth shut on the matter.

“He can't date one of the students,” Mari pipes up. “That's breaking, like, fifty different rules right there.”

“I'd have to kick his ass if I caught him doing that,” Minako agrees.

“Well,” Yuuri utters, “good thing we're not at risk of that, then.”

“Of that,” Minako agrees mysteriously. Mari catches Yuuri's eye, a confused look on her face, but Yuuri tears his gaze away quickly to avoid any further questions.

Unfortunately, as predictable as Vicchan gnawing at his collar for the tenth time tonight, Yuuri's father still remarks, “You are getting up there in age. It's about that time to be looking for someone to settle down with. Work is important, but so is family.”

Staring down at his near-empty bowl, Yuuri toys with his chopsticks. Not this conversation again...

“He's still young,” Minako defends. “There's always time for something like that a little later. Don't give me that look, Toshiya-san, I'm still single and I'm as old as you are! You're not drunk enough to call me an old maid yet.”

“I'd never!” his father laughs, even as he reaches for the bottle of sake and makes to pour Minako another glass. Naturally, she doesn't complain.

As the mood settles back into something more relaxed, Yuuri's mother comments, “It'll happen when the time is right. There's no sense rushing anything. You can't force real love to happen.”

Mari snorts. “Yeah, right. Anything's possible if they're rich enough.”

“You're too young to be thinking like that yet,” Minako snickers into her drink. “You still have hope.”

The conversation around Yuuri wanders away, moving onto a new rom-com everyone has been watching lately, leaving Yuuri behind to chew on his thoughts.

This happens almost every time he comes home these days. His parents mean well. He knows they do. Unfortunately, that doesn't stop how awkward the constant concern regarding his romantic life can feel. For years – his most of whole life, really – he had almost zero interest in other people like that. Even the one attempt he made before he met Viktor couldn't last longer than an hour. It's almost pathetic. He's a man, isn't he? Warm blooded? A tightly wound bundle of intense desire carefully masquerading beneath human civility?

He wonders.

Besides, Yuuri knows what his parents are really asking when they gently dig into his private life. Are you happy? Is there someone to share life and its struggles with? Will you be taken care of when we're no longer here? Will our name and history carry on? It's such a loaded question, carrying the immense weight of so much expectation and worry.

In all fairness, it's not just him that gets this talk off and on. Mari shares the same headache. Not for lack of trying on her end, either. There's just simply no one in the area that has caught her critical eye. The observation makes Yuuri wonder if he was simply too critical in the past and that is why it took him so long to even take that first step towards another person, but deep down he knows that's not the right answer.

Truth be told, he hates thinking about it.

Either way, it's almost ironic that Yuuri has beaten her to it. Even more so that people do know about that part of his life, just not his family.

He wasn't entirely sure what to expect after he and Viktor went public almost a month ago, but for the most part, it's been alright. Of course, there's weirdos who openly speculate about how he and Viktor got together in their comments, ask invasive questions, or argue with other strangers on the internet about things they'll never know, but for the most part Yuuri's gotten good at scrolling past the nonsense. He's not much of an online person, anyway. Not in the way Viktor has to be to maintain both a business and reputation. It's a blessing in disguise these days, though the hype has died down enough to be manageable even with the briefest of social media scrolling.

That's just his end, though. Things are bound to be different for Viktor. But whenever he's asked if things were good on his end regarding everything, Viktor always replied with a firm, “Yup! Everything's good. Don't worry, I can take care of myself.”

Some part of Yuuri has doubts, as he usually does, but he's trying his best to trust that nothing heinous is going on behind the scenes. Viktor would say something if he needed help or support.

At least, Yuuri hopes.

It's not as if either of them are really that good at asking for help...

“And then he catches her hand before she can fall down the stairs! It's quite the meet-cute,” Minako explains to his father. “Real love at first sight. For the young, anyway. I'd be more impressed if they caught me and my stack of papers.”

His father nods along. “Hm, I'll have to give it a watch some time. There's nothing quite as hopeful to watch than young love.”

“Oh, I started watching that one last week,” his mother chimes in. “It is very cute. I'll watch it with you. Her senpai reminds me of how you were back when, down to the silly grin.”

His father blinks in surprise. “Eh? Now I have to see this.”

Yuuri watches as his family debates the inner workings of a fictional relationship, happily smiling along like it's someone they know personally and approve of, and something in him clenches tightly with reckless abandon.

You know what? Fuck it.

“Actually, I have met someone,” he says.

It takes a second for anyone to hear him – but as soon as they do, the room instantly goes quiet.

Minako eyes him, her brow high up, but she sits back and says nothing.

His mother claps her hands together. “Yuuri! Is this true? You've really met someone special?”

“What? Before me?!” Mari exclaims, slamming her empty sake glass onto the table so hard her dishes clang. He buries her face in her hand, groaning. “Oh, great. Now I'll never hear the end of it. Thanks for nothing!”

Minako comforts her with an offhand, “Don't worry. You get used to it.”

“Yuuri, that's wonderful news,” his father praises. He leans over to fill Yuuri's glass in celebration. When was the last time Yuuri saw him this proud? When he graduated school? When he landed his full-time job and moved out to go be an adult in the real world? All big milestones, surely, and this is yet another one. Something about it feels equally exciting and terrible in Yuuri's belly. Especially when the next thing he's asked is, “What's the name of this lovely woman?”

Answers trip up in Yuuri's mouth, all for reasons he's unsure his parents would ever understand. It's supposed to be a simple answer, and yet his smart ass brain rambles, Well, he's not a woman in the way you would likely understand, but sometimes he is, but he's also a man, but sometimes not, and maybe something else entirely. I dunno, it really depends on the day you ask I guess. Does that make sense to you? No? Didn't think so.

Or maybe they would understand, given that their full awareness and acceptance of Yuuri's own... proclivities.

However, that doesn't mean they don't still have their own expectations hardwired into them after a lifetime of constantly reinforced social norms. Yuuri has never discussed his own romantic leanings with them either, preferring to avoid the topic altogether. Mostly because he didn't quite understand them himself. Can you have a preference when none exist?

(Except one preference does exist. Only one. Would that also make sense to them?)

Everyone stares at him, patiently waiting for the answer.

Some things are not his to explain, so Yuuri dodges the truth for what feels more accurate in the moment. He's not ashamed, he could never be, and yet his voice still cracks on the answer. “His name's Viktor.”

Everyone falls quiet again. Back tensing, Yuuri's posture grows stiff. His parents were never openly judgmental types, preferring to keep any of the more critical opinions they may have under tight wraps out of politeness. His friends are queer, and they come around on occasion for the odd get away. His family has never openly had a problem with that. And no matter what they might really think, they've never given him crap for his gender-bending hobby. His mother even helped him make his first crossplay, every stitch and hem in his Goddess Madoka a shared effort. She taught him everything she could about basic sewing, all of which helped carry him this far into his side hustle. If queerness was really a problem, it would have been known by now. His parents would never let him stray too far from the path they wish him to walk, if they thought it would only hurt him in the long run.

But you never know.

Which is why Yuuri can finally breathe again when his mother smiles and breaks the silence with a casual, “Tell us about him. What is he like?”

“... He's tall,” Yuuri starts. “With light hair and blue eyes. He's Russian.”

“Oh, my. Is he handsome?”

“He'd better be if he's with my son,” Toshiya says. “We want the most beautiful grandchildren.”

“That might be a little complicated if they're both guys,” Mari awkwardly points out to him, but her father is a little too tipsy now to really notice or care.

Cheeks warming from embarrassment, Yuuri gives up and digs for his phone. “I'll show you a picture. It's quicker than trying to explain.”

Finding an appropriate picture turns out to be a little awkward, given the majority of them are either a) selfies of a, um, sexy nature, b) cosplay pictures that hide how Viktor normally looks, or c) couple pictures of the two of them that Yuuri finds a little too personal to share. His family have never seen him in a romantic context, and it's something he still struggles to be open with, even online with strangers. Better to slowly ease that in for both their sake.

For that reason, Yuuri picks one of his old favourites, the same one he introduced Minako with. Viktor and Makkachin out at a park in the summer, the two of them happy and relaxed in the sun. It's impossible not to be charmed by it.

Everyone leans across the table to get a closer look at his phone.

“Wait, he has a poodle?” Mari asks, tone edging into suspicion.

Yuuri nods. “Her name's Makkachin.”

His mother gasps. “Oh! How sweet. I'll have to knit her a sweater, too!”

“Okaasan...”

“Russian's are a rugged people, but he doesn't strike me as such. Does he like sports?” his father asks. “He looks tall enough for American football.”

Yuuri makes a small face. “Sorry. No sports. It's the opposite, actually.”

“He's a huge nerd,” Minako interjects. “Just like our little Yuuri-chan.”

Like a light bulb, suddenly everyone in the room understands.

His mother smiles. “Aaaah. I see. Like Yuuri.”

Mari snickers. “Oh, yeah? Where's his make-up, then? And don't tell me he's better at make-up than me, too. I might have to throw myself off a bridge if there's two boys who can beat me at this girl shit.”

Yuuri stares flatly at her across the table, refusing to take the easy bait.

“... Wait. You said his name's Viktor? Huh.” Mari cups her chin between her thumb and forefinger and hums at the ceiling. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

Yuuri freezes. Oh, no.

“It does sound familiar,” his mother agrees her. “He looks like someone I have met before. Have we met him?”

Yuuri shakes his head so fast his head could fly off into space. “Nope! Never!”

“Are you sure?” Eyes narrowing, Mari swipes Yuuri's phone before he can block her hand and starts scrolling through his photo gallery. She leans far enough back to avoid Yuuri's panicked hand trying to steal it back. “I swear I've seen that face before. Where have – AGH!”

Their parents give Mari a strange look at the strangled noise she makes, but she declines to explain, instead thrusting the phone back at Yuuri. “Not interested anymore!” she rushes out, her face beet red.

That's what you get, Yuuri thinks, equally red and mortified.

(Thank God the worst offending photos are in a different section of his photo gallery.)

Coughing in order to disguise her laugh, Minako moves the conversation forward. “So, when exactly do we get to meet this special person? You have been dating him for a while now... Five months, by my recollection.”

Mari's jaw drops at the same time as their parent's faces fall.

All at once, Yuuri feels like a royal fuck up for not saying something earlier.

“Um. I'm not sure.” He quickly explains, “He lives in another state. It's a long-distance relationship. It's not exactly that simple.”

His father nods in understanding. “How did you two meet, then?”

A quick montage of way too many events leading up to now flashes in Yuuri's mind, too quick to catch. There's no way he's telling them half of it, not if he wants to be able to face everyone after this. “The internet,” he says. The implications of that hit him a second later. He rushes out another, “But, um, we have met in person several times. He is real. And not dangerous. I can assure you of that.”

His mother hums in consideration. “I suppose that is common these days.”

“Wow. I don't know if I could do that,” Mari says, a touch flippantly. “Aren't you lonely most of the time?”

He knows this one isn't meant to be bait, and yet Yuuri feels baited all the same. He refuses to reply, but it takes biting down on his tongue not to do so. Oh, how easy it would be to throw back, “At least my love interest exists in person and not on a poster in my bedroom.”

Except... that one could absolutely backfire, if Mari is already catching on, so Yuuri wisely keeps that to himself.

“Love finds a way,” his mother offers as a soothing balm to the tense mood. “If we can, I would like to meet him some day.”

“Yes,” his father agrees, “I need to see what sort of special person finally caught our son's eye. He must really be someone worthwhile to get your attention.”

“I'd like that,” Yuuri agrees. “I don't know when, but I'll try and arrange for it some time.”

“Who knows!” his mother says, a twinkle in her eye. “Maybe there will come a day where Mari will find someone, and we can all gather together! I hope that day is soon. Maybe for the holidays?”

Mari just rolls her eye and excuses herself for her usual post-dinner smoke.

Ha. Karma, Yuuri thinks to himself, even if the payback isn't quite that satisfying.

-

After dinner, the living room lights are dimmed, and his mother carries in a homemade lemon cake. Atop the surface stand two candles, a two and a five, and their tiny flames light up the room with a warm, hopeful glow. Everyone sings along, even Vicchan, who yips excitedly along. They sing all the way to the cake being set down on the table before Yuuri, and then the room goes quiet with anticipation.

“Make a wish!” Minako cheers, words slurring into each other. How many drinks has she had? Yuuri stopped counting long ago.

“Make a good wish,” Mari clarifies like the older sister she is.

Yuuri ignores her in favour of getting this one right.

Most of his wishes in the past have all been the same – mostly because he's only ever wanted one thing for a long time now – but now that his heart's desire has finally been fulfilled, he has a new wish in his heart.

Eyes closed, he prays with all his might.

Please let my family and Viktor meet.

With those words silently whispered in his head, Yuuri leans forward and blows the candles out.

Maybe they're a few days early, but hopefully it still counts.

-

It's late when Yuuri and Vicchan finally retire for the night. Thankfully, it's Saturday. With nowhere to be until tomorrow evening, Yuuri fully plans on sleeping in and enjoying his day off before he has to make the drive back home. He checks his phone – just in case – and tries his best to ignore the clenching in his stomach at the lack of text messages waiting for him. The last he heard from Viktor was around lunch time, many hours ago now...

Viktor's busy these days. That's all.

He's settling in his childhood bed for the night, Vicchan already half asleep, when Yuuri hears a small knock at the door.

“Come in!” he calls.

The door opens, and his mother steps inside.

“I wanted to make sure you had everything you needed,” she says. “Is your bed still comfortable?”

“Yes.”

“Is it warm enough?”

“It is.”

“Are you still hungry at all – ”

“Okasaan,” Yuuri sighs, but it's out of love. “I'm alright.”

“I see. Then, I will see you in the morning.” She goes to step back out, but something in Yuuri's room catches her eye. Yuuri's not sure what she's looking at, given his walls are covered in old pictures he printed out as a teenager. Lots of them are video game and anime characters he wanted to dress up as – some of which he actually did – but there's just as many pictures of a certain other cosplayer mixed in, wearing his older costumes...

Actually, there's a lot of them, if he's being honest. Almost to a creepy extent.

Most of them are not that great by current standards. In the oldest pictures, the unfortunate shine of old wigs and cheap fabric glare at you even on matte printer paper. But there's just as many pictures that show Viktor's progress over the years, up until his sudden disappearance from the internet. In all of them, he is young and fresh-faced. In this way, Yuuri's bedroom is almost like a time capsule of an age come and gone. It can feel strange to be in here sometimes, knowing he's outgrown it in more ways than one, but it's also comforting as well, knowing this place still exists even when he isn't here. Preserved despite time and distance.

Yuuri looks at the wall his mother is staring at, a strange feeling growing in his belly. What is she looking at so intensely? He can't tell, when his wall is more or less a giant montage of teenage obsession. Did something happen to the wall itself? Or did someone catch her eye?

“What is it?” he dares to ask.

His mother blinks, and then she smiles at him. “It's nothing. Good night, Yuuri. I will see you in the morning.”

Yuuri waits until he hears his mother's footsteps disappear down the hall before lying down, though he's suddenly far too awake to sleep now.

There's no way she knows... right?

-

Viktor ❤:

Hey! I hope your trip back to your folk's place is going well!

I miss yooouuuu

And Makkachin misses you, too

Sorry I didn't see your messages until now...

I'll talk to you in the morning?

Chapter Text

Yuuri's actual birthday, so far, is pretty uneventful.

He wakes up, texts Viktor a quick good morning (with no returning reply in sight), walks Vicchan around the block before giving him a special breakfast fit for poodle royalty, and then he goes to work.

Work is work, and it passes the way it normally does. Can you really blame Yuuri for eyeing the clock? Being a dance assistant, there's plenty that he does to aid Minako as she teaches groups ranging from middle school kids to older teenagers through out the day. It pays the bills and he's good at it, what else is there? He owes that to being a dedicated student of Minako's as a child himself, back before she sold her first studio in Ann Arbor and went off to Detroit to start her second bigger and better one. When his short stint at University attempting a highly encouraged IT degree didn't seem to be working out very well, she was the one who encouraged him to give dancing a proper chance and join him as a professional. His parents were justifiably concerned about the sudden and extreme shift in gears, but in the end they supported his decision.

Now, several years later, he's here, and... well, that's really it.

He's not miserable. He likes not being trapped at a desk and transforming an old and well-loved interest into something more financially lucrative. That said, would it be a lie to say some part of him remains unsatisfied? Nah. He loves dancing, but teaching it is not quite his heart's calling. Some days, there's only so much of the sass he can take from students many years his junior who think they know better than him. But at least they're not as annoying as the older ones who think flirting with him will get them anywhere.

Oh, well. It is what it is. And now he's one year older, another year wiser. Probably.

Once his day is over, the last of their students heading home after a long and hard workout, Yuuri finds himself being pulled aside into Minako's office before he has the chance to make his daily escape.

Minako leans back in her chair, an unabashed smirk on her face. “Soooo... How'd it go?”

“How'd what go?” Yuuri asks, genuinely confused.

Minako's smirk disappears. “You told your boyfriend, didn't you?”

“About what?”

In a baffled voice, she asks, “That your family knows he exists now?”

“Oh.” Yuuri shrugs. “Um, no? Not yet?”

Flying forward in her seat, Minako slams her hands flat on her desk. “Huh?! Why not?”

Yuuri scratches his cheek. “He's been busy lately.”

“No one is that busy. Why are you hiding?”

“He is,” Yuuri defends. Why are they having this conversation now of all times? It's only been a few days, it's not like it's been weeks. Does there need to be a time limit for these conversations? “His last convention of the season is this weekend. There's tons of things he needs to pack and prepare for, and he leaves early tomorrow. I can't distract him right now.”

“Wow. What an excuse that is.”

“It's not – ”

“I mean for you. Because I'm sure you made that decision without consulting him. Ah, ha! That look on your face says I'm right.” Drawing a hand to her head, Minako looks like she's developing a stress related headache. “I would have figured you'd have told him by now so you can start making plans for him to come here and meet everyone. Didn't you hear your parents? They're eager to know who has stolen their little boy's heart. This is a big deal. It's been long enough.”

Yuuri's shoulders sink. “I know.”

“Is it really because he's busy?”

“Yes,” Yuuri says, even as he doubts his own answer.

“Hmm. Well, don't wait too long on that. I'm sure your boyfriend wants to meet us, too. Right?”

“Probably.” No. That's not true. He corrects himself with, “Most definitely.”

Minako nods, and for a moment Yuuri thinks he may be in the clear. He turns around to leave when Minako's chilly voice grabs him like the claw of death and refuses to let go.

“Yuuuriiii...” Minako's office chair creaks as she stands up and saunters over to Yuuri's side. “Why do I get the feeling you didn't even tell him about your birthday.”

“Uh...”

“Please tell me you at least told him about that.”

Refusing to meet her eye, Yuuri mumbles, “I really need to go now, so...”

But her voice alone is enough to feel like the door is slammed closed and Yuuri cannot escape. “I can't believe you didn't even tell him about your birthday.”

Spinning around, Yuuri throws his hands in the air. “Oh, come on. It's not that big a deal.”

“Isn't it? Twenty-five is a big number.”

“It is?”

“Every new number is a big number. And I'm sure your boyfriend wouldn't be very happy to find out he missed an important day like this because you assumed he would be too busy to care.”

... Damn it. He hates it when she makes sense.

“It's not like that,” Yuuri tries, and fails, to shield himself from further criticism. There's no sense in trying, though. It takes nothing for the shame to pour down on him like hot lava as he realizes his careless error. Minako doesn't have to say another word; Yuuri's anxious brain does it all for her.

Viktor really has been busy as of late, though! Ever since Yuuri left Pennsylvania a short time ago, Viktor's been like a madman, running through a list of sudden, brand new prop commissions in between getting ready for his last convention stint for the year. There's still no sign of the Loki costume Viktor promised his patrons weeks ago, but Yuuri's certain that is also still in the works. He really, truly did not want to distract him with something so selfish, not when Viktor hasn't had much time to even text as of late. Even their weekly date nights have felt a little shorter than usual, if Yuuri's being honest. But who is Yuuri to complain when Viktor's so tired he's drifting off in mid-conversation?

(Some part of Yuuri really, really worries that Viktor's not telling him something, but what proof does he have that there's anything going on? Viktor promises everything is fine. Shouldn't he just believe in that?)

Minako takes one look at Yuuri's face, and the sternness that hardened her expression before softens into something more parental. “Look, I know you're new to this, and maybe you thought you were doing the right thing, but events like this are important to share. It's hard to celebrate from afar, so it's good to at least inform him, right?”

Yuuri sighs. “Yeah. You're right.”

“I know I am.” Minako looks him over, and then shakes her head. “Okay. I've been tough enough on you today. Go home, relax, have some cake.”

Yuuri attempts a smile. “I'll save some for you tomorrow?”

Already shooing him out the door, Minako's reply follows him down the hallway. “Make it a big piece and I'll reconsider lecturing you next time.”

“Yeah, right,” Yuuri snorts. Like that'll ever happen.

-

Yuuri's sliding into the front seat of his car when his phone lights up with brand new messages.

Several of them are expected. The group chat has been lighting up all day with “Happy Birthday!” from everyone, with eager promises of a fun weekend to come. Well, everyone minus Viktor, but he hasn't been active all day long, so Yuuri's less worried about Viktor discovering it this way and more curious as to what Viktor's been doing this whole time. He makes a mental note to message Viktor first before the unfortunate reveal as he goes through his notifications. Phichit texted him just now apologizing for working late tonight but promises there's a special personalized cake in the fridge for him. His mother messaged “Happy Birthday Yuu-Chan!” with a cartoony gif of a cake underneath it. Under all that, there's a text from someone he hasn't heard from in a long while. Not for lack of wanting to talk, but merely because of two very different lifestyles often missing each other in terms of scheduling.

Even still, Yuuri smiles at the message from an old friend.

Yuuko:

Hey Yuuri! Happy 25^th Birthday! Sorry for missing the party the other day. The triplets are still sick, but hopefully they'll be better soon. I'll see you around Christmas time? : ) Takeshi still wants a dance rematch. If it's anything like last year, I might need help keeping him from the liquor again lol

Settling in the driver's seat, Yuuri texts back.

Yuuri:

Hi Yuuko! I heard, I hope their sniffles go away soon. Yes, I'll be back home again for the holidays. I'll gladly beat Takeshi at Just Dance again. Not sure about the liquor, though. You know me, I may need some help, too

Yuuko:

Great! We'll have to make plans when you're back again. We have so much to catch up on!

Ha ha I'll tell him that. Guess he'll need to practice before the big showdown

Yuuri:

Sounds like fun! Maybe we could go skating again like last year

Yuuko:

Oh, yes! The triplets are finally old enough to wear skates – we'll have to teach them!

So... what's this I'm hearing about a boyfriend?

Yuuri:

Aaaah, okaasan told you, huh?

Yuuko:

She was very excited the other day. She sent me photos of her yarn stash and asked me what I think he'd like for a dog sweater.

Yuuri:

Oh, geez...

Yuuko:

Either way, I'm happy for you! I hope we get to meet him soon : )

Yuuri's heart clenches tightly in his chest at the thought of Viktor sitting in a room with everyone. Sharing food, words, laughter. Friends, family. Everyone.

He wants it so much.

Yuuri:

I'll make sure it happens

He's barely set his phone aside for the drive home when the screen suddenly lights up again. A very particular ring tone starts playing, one that he's had set since their cosplay shoot some weeks ago: Sidon's theme.

Yuuri's stomach plummets straight to hell. A sudden call like this feels like the equivalent of his parents using his full government name after catching him doing something unacceptable, and he knows exactly what he's done to deserve it this time.

Holding his breath, Yuuri answers.

“It's your birthday?” he hears on the other end. It's not an angry voice. Yuuri very much deserves that. It's so much worse. The person on the other end sounds hurt.

Damn it. He really waited too long.

“Hi, Viktor,” he answers back. “I guess you saw the group chat, huh?”

Viktor ignores him. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“I... I meant to. I was going to.”

“When?”

“... Um...”

The other line goes quiet. Yuuri doesn't need much imagination to picture Viktor's face right now. He's seen it before – an eerily still, quiet expression that feels way too much like the calm before a storm. Such a storm never comes, not in Yuuri's experience, but knowing it's hovering near is enough to make him regret what he's done.

“Let me explain,” he says, before this can spiral out of control. “Please?”

He hears Viktor's intake of air like it's happening next to him. “Fine. Explain.”

“You've been really busy lately – ”

“So it's my fault?” Viktor interrupts with a firm voice.

“No! No, let me finish. That's not what I meant. I – ” Yuuri scrubs a hand over his face, willing the right words to appear. But he knows Viktor isn't looking for the “right” words, he's looking for plain and simple honesty. Yuuri tries again. “I've never been too big on celebrating my birthday. It feels weird, all the attention when I haven't done anything to earn it. It's not like you missed anything. I don't have any special plans for today. I was going to mention it, but you've got a lot going on already. I was going to wait until there was a better time so I wouldn't distract you, but time kinda escaped me. The timing never felt right.”

“When exactly would be a better time?”

“Well,” Yuuri grimaces, “Minako already tore my ear off over it not even ten minutes ago, so when I got home?”

Viktor gives a neutral sounding hum.

Yuuri swallows thickly. “I'm sorry. I fucked up. I didn't consider how you would feel about this. It's not that important to me, but I should have realized maybe it would be to you.”

“Maybe? It's...” Viktor stops himself. “No. You're right. I would have appreciated that. Because that is important to me. You're important to me.”

It might not seem like much, but Yuuri knows better than most how hard it is for Viktor to fight back conditioned agreeableness for his own truth. Encouraged, Yuuri changes course. “How can I make it up to you?”

“Tell me next time?” Viktor sounds agitated. Even the strange laugh that follows sounds forced, like Viktor wants to find humour in the moment but can't bring himself to feel any sort of real levity just yet. “I don't care what I have going on. The sky could be on fire for all I care. I'm never too busy for you.”

“Okay. I will, I promise. I'm sorry.”

Neither of them say anything for a long moment.

Then, finally, Viktor lets out a long sigh. “I feel like a huge asshole right now.”

The corner of Yuuri's mouth quirks upwards. “You're not. You have every right to be upset.”

“I know,” Viktor says in a tone that doesn't quite agree. “It is what it is, I guess.”

“We're working on it,” Yuuri says, hoping it gives Viktor the comfort he needs. “Just like I need to work on my communication skills, right?” The semi-joke seems to sort of work, because Viktor makes a half-amused noise on the other end.

“Aside from moments like this, you're not that bad.”

“I'm not?”

“No. But definitely don't do this ever again. What kind of boyfriend does it make me to miss out on your birthday? I don't even have any gifts planned. I should have asked earlier, then I could have...”

“No, no. I should have told you. How else would you know? It's on me, not you.” Yuuri plucks at the steering wheel cover, readjusting the way it sits along the curve. “Anyway, I don't need any gifts. Talking to you is enough.”

There's a strange pause. Yuuri almost wonders if Viktor is still too upset for casual conversation when he hears, “Are you sure? Because I think I know of a way you can make it up to me.”

Yuuri's brow lifts. “Oh?”

“Just one sec,” Viktor says with a distracted voice. “Are you home right now?”

“No. Still in the parking lot near work. Why?”

“I'd head home right away if I were you,” Viktor answers vaguely. Yuuri doesn't need FaceTime to know Viktor's likely smirking right now. He has no idea what Viktor has planned, but if it will help make up for his blunder, then he'll shut his mouth and play along.

“Give me half an hour?” he replies.

Viktor chuckles, clearly amused by his own plan. “Better get going, because the clock's already ticking. Oh, one last thing. Is Phichit going to be home tonight?”

Although he knows Viktor can't see, Yuuri still shakes his head. “Not till late.”

“Perfect.”

“Viktor...?”

“Trust me. I know what I'm doing.”

Yuuri really doesn't have much of a choice, so he doesn't fight it.

-

Viktor refuses to answer any questions Yuuri has on the drive home, bluetooth keeping their call on the go as Yuuri makes the drive home. Luckily, given that it's already fairly late, there's no rush hour traffic holding him up. However, that doesn't stop Yuuri from asking and Viktor from being a cute little tease about it.

“Okay, one last guess. You're gonna be standing in my apartment, dressed up in nothing but ribbons and a giant bow,” Yuuri jokes as he pulls into the parking lot of his apartment complex.

“No. But wouldn't that be something.” Viktor tsks at him. “If only you'd warned me literally any day before today, maybe I could have made that happen. What a shame.”

When you already have the world on your shoulders? Yuuri wonders, but he holds the concerned comment back.

“You got me there,” he says instead. Locking his car behind him, Yuuri makes the tired stroll to the complex entrance. His feet hurt, his legs are tired, and he needs a nice, long bath if he's going to be able to sleep well tonight. “But seriously, what in the world could you have...”

He's only just stepped inside the main entryway when he sees someone he doesn't recognize lurking awkwardly by the stairs, a man staring down at their phone. A large, red bag hangs off his shoulder. He looks up as Yuuri walks inside with a strange cocktail of relief and hesitation.

“Yuuri Katsuki?” he enunciates oddly.

Lowering his phone, Yuuri answers, “Yes?”

“Your order,” the man says, unzipping the red bag and handing over a large, brown bag into Yuuri's arms. Whatever it is, it's warm, and it smells utterly divine. The man hurries out the front entrance without another word, likely onto his next job.

Slowly, Yuuri raises his phone back up to his ear. “... Viktor...”

“Yes, my sweetheart?”

“Did... did you just buy me dinner?”

“I don't know. Did I?”

“Viktor,” Yuuri repeats breathily, in utter disbelief.

“Mm. I love how you say my name.”

With a shake of his head, Yuuri continues their phone call as he makes for the stairs. Along with this brown bag promising a surprise meal, it makes the long climb up to his floor so much more bearable.

-

“Vicchan, I'm home!”

He hears Vicchan's yip, but the poodle doesn't come running like usual. Instantly, Yuuri's suspicious.

“Ooh, Vicchan,” Viktor coos. “I miss him so much. I should have ordered some dog treats for him, too. Say hi to him for me!”

Sneaking around the corner, Yuuri flips on the light and spots Vicchan sitting near the bathroom, being a little rascal again. “I will once he stops gnawing at his sweater. Vicchan, stop! Your grandma made you that!”

Rolling off the floor, Vicchan gets into play position, his butt high in the air. His beloved sweater hangs out of his mouth, but even through the thick yarn Yuuri can hear a daring, muffled, “Arf!”

“His who made him what?” Viktor asks, after Yuuri's wrestled the sweater out of Vicchan's mouth.

Yuuri clips Vicchan's leash to his collar and herds him out the door for his potty break. “Ah, long story...”

-

Yuuri expects Viktor to want to end the call at some point, given they've been chatting nonstop for little more than an hour now, but Viktor refuses to let him go, not even when Yuuri offers Viktor his freedom.

Secretly, it pleases Yuuri beyond what mere words can ever say.

Shoes and winter coat tossed aside, he crashes onto his couch with a loud groan. Thank God for Viktor's ingenuity, because now he doesn't have to stand in the kitchen and make a meal worth eating. Hidden inside the brown bag is a large bowl of pasta, its savoury scent immediately fill his senses as he pops the plastic lid off the container. There's even a small white bag of garlic bread along with it that already has Yuuri's mouth watering.

“I hope I picked something you'll enjoy,” Viktor says on the other end. “It's not a place I've ever been to, so I had to do a little guessing. But I'd like to think I know your taste well enough now to be able to do so.”

Yuuri almost moans after his first bite. “It tastes amazing. I have no idea what it is, but I'm eating every damn bite.”

“Tuscan Chicken Pasta,” Viktor replies, as though reading off the receipt itself. “It sounded interesting. And I figure some carbs after a long day at work would be nice. Did I guess right?”

Yuuri quickly swallows his fourth bite to let out a weak, “You're amazing. I don't know where you ordered it from, but I'm taking you there next time you visit.”

“Ooh. Promise?”

Yuuri's too busy eating to answer with anything other than a hum that edges into another moan, but Viktor seems pleased all the same.

“Tell me about your day?” Viktor asks.

Spinning pasta onto his fork, Yuuri answers, “There's really not much to tell.”

“Don't care. I want to hear it anyway.”

When was the last time you told me about your day? Yuuri recalls with an internal twinge, but the abrupt upset feels out of place when Viktor's decided to grant him mercy after his massive oversight.

Instead, he does his best to recount the day's events. It's been an unremarkable one until an hour or more ago, so it doesn't take very long, but Viktor comments and asks questions all the same, like he's hearing the most interesting story of adventure and drama rather than what Yuuri had for lunch that day. With anyone else, it would feel preformative, but Viktor is nothing but sincere.

“... And then you rightfully tore my other ear off,” Yuuri concludes. “Now I'm home with forgiveness food. That's about it.”

“Absolutely riveting,” Viktor chuckles. “I promise to put your ear back on with a band-aid and a little kiss.”

Poking at a piece of chicken, Yuuri considers his next words. “Thanks for not holding this against me.”

“I'd never.”

“I know,” Yuuri says. “But – I dunno. I would have understood if you didn't want to talk to me for a while or something. I did fuck up pretty badly.”

The other end goes quiet. “Can I say something?”

Yuuri hesitates. He only has two ears and both have been put through the wringer today. “Sure.”

Viktor says, “I know what it's like for someone to just... shut off all love and affection when they're upset with you. Become someone completely different in the blink of an eye. Even if they were justifiably upset with me, it still felt so much worse knowing it took nothing for me to mean nothing to them if I ever did anything to upset them. Even if the love eventually came back again, it's something you never forget. How can you trust a love that you constantly doubt the existence of? It seemed normal at the time, but it wasn't until I was out of that fog that I realized it's a horrible way to treat anyone you care about.”

It takes everything Yuuri has to keep the flaring ire to himself. Stories like this come and go sometimes, when Viktor feels safe enough to speak on them and let them be known to an outsider. Over time, Yuuri learned it was best to let Viktor have the floor and not crowd him with his own thoughts and feelings on the matter. At least, not until the story is over.

Although, in some ways, it's never really over. That part of the story has long since been completed – but it's still stored deeply inside the book, hidden from sight despite the ink still imprinted of its pages. Yuuri can tell those chapters are still quietly visited to this day when he hears the distant hurt in Viktor's voice. Voicing them now is part of that, and as much as they piss Yuuri off, he's hopeful that giving Viktor a chance to process them aloud is helping him sort out his own feelings regarding them. Yuuri will gladly sit through the boiling blood if any good comes from it.

“Anyway,” Viktor says after a sigh, “please trust me when I say I'd never want to do that to you. No matter how hurt I am. You mean the world to me, even when things don't go perfectly. Okay?”

“Okay,” Yuuri answers back in a small voice.

Wasting no more time, Viktor brightens once again. “Besides! It's your big day. I'm not going to ruin it over a misunderstanding. We have to celebrate your existence!”

“Is it really that worth celebrating?” Yuuri laughs awkwardly.

“Absolutely! On this day, you breathed your first breath and brought joy and love to everyone who got the privilege to meet you. Honestly, I should be on my hands and knees thanking your parents for bringing you to life. They did a fantastic job raising you.”

“Maybe,” Yuuri snorts.

“There's no maybe about it. Some parents really weren't meant to be responsible for another one's life, but I can tell yours took their duty seriously.”

Yuuri doesn't know what to say. It doesn't feel right to brag about such a thing. Despite this, he knows he doesn't disagree with that conclusion. No parent is perfect, but he knows his certainly did their best. He may still be an anxious mess some days, none of which is anyone's fault, but he's never doubted the strong foundation beneath his feet to keep him from completely falling apart. There was no questioning anyone's love and support, no matter how much of a fuck up he can be.

He knows if Viktor ever came within the vicinity of his parents, they'd love him just as unconditionally.

Thinking about it makes Yuuri's belly bubble with the question he's been mulling over for a good couple of days now.

Quietly, Yuuri starts with, “Hey, Viktor...”

But it's accidentally cut off by Viktor's shining enthusiasm. “What shall we do next? The night is still young. We can play games if you like, or talk some more. I'm open to anything. Oh! Shall I order you dessert? This restaurant didn't offer anything worthy of you unfortunately, but I'm sure I can find something on here...”

“Don't worry about it. Phichit bought me a cake,” Yuuri tells him. “Not sure what kind, but I'm sure there's chocolate involved.”

“How nice! I'm glad he did that for you. Well, what are you waiting for? Go have a slice. And then another one for me.”

Yuuri shakes his head. “One is enough. Although I'd definitely share with you if you were here.”

“If only...” Then, with a sensual purr, Viktor inquires, “Say, do you think he got you red velvet cake?”

Yuuri nearly chokes on air.

-

“Oh, my God,” Yuuri breathes into his phone, as he stands in front of his open fridge.

“What?”

“It is red velvet.”

Viktor laughs so loud and hard, Yuuri has to hold the phone far, far away.

Chapter Text

“Yuuri?” Viktor whispers. Although it's been dark outside for many hours now, the night is finally inching into the later hours. The apartment is still, no sign of Phichit coming home yet. In spite of long it has been, their call hasn't ended once. Not when Yuuri had to quickly dip to use the washroom, or when Viktor went to make his own meal. It continued even when they both needed to walk their poodles around the block and, at Viktor's urging, Yuuri made himself a nice bath to soak under. Now, as Yuuri winds down for the night under his thick comforter, warm from head to toe, he listens to Viktor's hushed voice as if he were lying in his bed beside him.

He wishes that Viktor were actually here. He aches for him in a way that often finds him only in the dark.

“Hm?” Yuuri hums back. His phone's plugged in, the battery too close to death, so he can only lie on one side while they chat. It's worth it to hear his boyfriend, even though his ear is sore and uncomfortably warm from having a little computer pressed against it for hours on end.

“When exactly were you born?” Viktor asks. It feels like the sort of aimless question one asks at a sleepover. It's silly, and yet it carries a peculiar weight to it. “I mean, were you a morning baby, or a night baby?”

“A morning baby,” Yuuri answers around a small yawn.

“Are you sleepy?”

“Not really. I'm still wide awake.”

“Hmm.” Viktor lets out a yawn of his own. “A morning baby... How early were you?”

Yuuri tries to remember. “Uh... I think... somewhere around 4 AM? I dunno. It was really early. All I know for sure is my mother didn't sleep all night.”

“And now you never sleep at night,” Viktor teases. “Your poor mother.”

“Don't worry. She told me she had the best sleep of her life afterwards. Otosan even brought her a little feast for when she woke up.” Yuuri yawns again. “And coffee. Her first coffee in forever.”

“I'll bet she enjoyed that,” Viktor chuckles.

Yuuri stares into the darkness of his room. “What kind of baby were you?”

It's a while before Viktor answers. “I don't know. I never asked.”

“I'm sure it was a magical time anyway,” Yuuri says with a knowing smile, “since you're a Christmas baby.”

Viktor lets out a small sound of surprise. “Who told you? Was it Chris?”

Yuuri tries not to laugh. “No one. Well, technically you, but years ago. You posted a Christmas themed photo set of Misa to your old DeviantArt account way back when. Remember? I can't recall exactly what you wrote in the description, but it was something like 'happy birthday to me, the prettiest girl in the world!'” More of the memory lights up in Yuuri's brain. “Wait. You also said, 'you better all have gifts worthy of a lady, or else Rem will hear about it!'”

“Oh, my God... Please tell me I wasn't that cringe back then.”

“That's not cringe. That's cute.”

Viktor groans. “I remember now. No one's ever available to hang out on my actual birthday. Obviously, right? I got bored that year and decided to entertain myself at home. It was actually pretty risky. I never crossplayed at home because there's no way my parents would have been okay with it if they'd caught me. I kept most of my girl costumes out of the house – ah, but you already knew that. Anyway, Misa was the only one I had hidden at the back of my closet, so I grabbed some random Christmas stuff and tried to do a green and black smokey eye. All I had was my shitty webcam to make a shoot work. Ugh. I can just picture how grainy they must have been. I had a really shitty webcam in those days.”

Yuuri replies, “It was clear as crystal back then.”

The mood changes before Yuuri can catch it. Viktor whispers to him, “I'll bet you stared at it for hours, huh?”

“Uh, well...!”

Viktor chuckles. “It's okay. I still looked good like that at the time. I'd probably stare, too. But...” He trails off.

It takes a moment, but Yuuri hears what goes unsaid.

The conversation lulls into silence after, and yet neither of them makes a move towards ending the call. It's nearing 10 PM. Yuuri doesn't have to work until the afternoon, but Viktor has a convention to leave for in the morning. Knowing this, he still can't bring himself to say the words or press the button. Not when they haven't talked like this in weeks.

He understands Viktor hasn't meant to be distant this month. But that doesn't make it hurt any less.

“What are you doing for your birthday this year?” Yuuri finds himself asking.

“Probably sitting at home with Makkachin,” Viktor answers so honestly it hurts. “Might go visit Chris' parents with him, assuming he's not visiting Masumi's folks this year. Not sure. I guess it depends on what everyone else is doing.”

“You're not visiting your parents?”

“Nope.”

“Oh...”

Viktor sighs. “The less said about that, the better. Oh, my. It's getting pretty late, isn't it? Perhaps I should let you go so you can get some – ”

“Please don't go,” Yuuri rushes out.

Viktor pauses. In a confused tone, he says, “But you have to work tomorrow.”

Something in Yuuri feels panicked at the thought of Viktor leaving. “I don't care. I already stay up late all the time. What's the difference?”

“That's true. Want me to talk to you until you fall asleep? Maybe I should hum you some lullabies.”

Yuuri makes a face. “I'm still too awake to sleep. Mentally, I mean.”

“Too wound up, huh? Hmm... I think I have an idea.”

Another idea? Yuuri hopes it doesn't involve any more online apps. There's no way he's meeting another stranger down in the lobby, especially not in his old, worn pajamas. He's not leaving this bed if he can help it.

“I can give you one more gift,” Viktor offers, “if you're comfortable with it.”

“Comfortable with what exactly?”

“Tell me, Yuuri,” Viktor says with a voice so incredibly smooth, the short hairs on the back of Yuuri's neck all stand up, “do you find my voice attractive?”

“Attractive as in...?”

The next words may as well be caressed right into Yuuri's ear. “As in enough to come from it alone?”

Flying up into a sitting position, Yuuri nearly drops his phone. “Viktor!” He scrambles for it before it can hit the floor, bringing it back to his ear just in time to hear Viktor laughing.

“Or not! It's all right. No pressure. It was only an idea.”

God, why does his hand suddenly so sweaty? Nothing's even happened!

At least, not yet.

“You were being serious,” Yuuri lightly challenges.

Viktor hesitates, though Yuuri's uncertain if it's because he senses the subtle change in mood, or if he's doubting his own offer. “I'm always serious with you.” With a small gasp, he asks, “Wait – are you considering?”

“Well...”

Viktor quietly waits for an answer.

“I do miss you,” Yuuri finally brings himself to say. “A lot. And I don't just mean in general. I – ” Face burning red, Yuuri struggles to form the words, but he does his best all the same. “It's not the same by myself. Can you really blame me? You're the only one who...”

“Oh, no.” Viktor's voice is heavy with drama, as though he were a TV doctor diagnosing a patient who is at their mercy for treatment. Something about the way it sounds makes Yuuri suspect Viktor loves the feeling. “I've gotten you addicted.”

Yuuri wets his lips. He's flirting, isn't he? Two can play at that game. Maybe if he's pathetic enough, Viktor will grant him another mercy and let him feel something other than worry and stress for the first time in a while. “You have. Aren't you going to take responsibility for it?”

“I suppose there's only one cure for such a thing. Are you comfortable?”

Yuuri's not sure if he means literally or mentally, but either way, there's only one answer. “Yes.”

“Perfect.” Voice softening, Viktor promises him, “Trust me, follow my lead, and I'll make you feel real good. We're going to celebrate your existence one of the best ways I know how. Only the best for my special birthday boy.”

-

Yuuri can't see much in the dark. The outlines of his furniture, the gleam of the glass protecting his prized prints of Viktor on the wall, the subtle hills his body forms under his blankets on the bed. The rest is bathed in a private darkness, the perfect cover for giving into baser instincts. However, he doesn't need his eyes for this. Only ears for Viktor's voice so it can guide him to the edge. Such a place has always hard for him to find on his own, but it comes so much more naturally when Viktor's the one lighting the way. It's easier to step off the edge with a loved one's hand in his.

Closing his eyes, Yuuri submits.

“Are you listening?”

“Yes.”

“Perfect.”

“Um. Are you sure you don't want to video chat for this? I could turn on a light...”

“I'm sure. My voice will be enough. Now, shall we start?”

Despite understanding what they intend to do, Yuuri's not prepared for the actuality of it. It's a little awkward at first...

(Lift your shirt up. Trace the skin along your stomach. Uh, okay. Do you feel the tingles left behind by your fingertips? Sure? It's me, loving a body that begs to be worshipped. O-Okay. Yuuri... do you want to continue? I do. I promise.)

It could be his fault – he's never had phone sex before. He's never even dreamed of trying, or thought it could be something he would ever be capable of doing. But there's a before and after Viktor, and every new activity is a grand adventure with him, so Yuuri does his best to relax and follow along the path Viktor guides him down. Viktor would never intentionally lead him astray. And with a voice so sensual and confident, how could they ever go wrong?

Viktor sets the scene for them both. Pretend he's lying next to Yuuri. Can he feel Viktor's breath against the nape of his neck? His hand on Yuuri's stomach? It's not Yuuri's hand that caresses his skin, but Viktor's, unhurried, idle, ready to play all night long if needed. (A fact that he's happily proven before.) Yuuri pretends it's him so hard, he swears it's almost as if Viktor really were here after all. If he can imagine it, then he can feel the phantom touch of the real Viktor all around him.

“... now pinch yourself there nice and gently. Don't hurt yourself. Unless you like that?”

Yuuri shudders as he follows Viktor's instructions, his thumb and forefinger finding his nipple with ease. It's Viktor's fingers, not his, and they tweak him with the right amount of pressure. Pleasure flashes in the dark, shocking Yuuri at its abrupt intensity. How is he so wound up already? It's almost pathetic.

(Truth be told, he hasn't done this in a while. Not since he's left Viktor's side...)

“I have no idea,” he admits. He sucks in his next breath. “Feels nice either way.”

“In that case, pinch it a little harder. Give it a sharp twist – ”

“Aaah.” It's so embarrassing, but the high, breathy sound comes of its own sweet volition. It feels so good, he reaches for the other one with his free hand without waiting for the command and gives them both a nice, hard twist.

“Yes,” Viktor sighs, “exactly like that. You're doing so well already.”

That, alone, makes Yuuri want to cup a hand around himself.

He resists. Only because Viktor hasn't given him permission yet.

For now, his hand wanders high up his body at Viktor's calling, gently teasing his sensitive skin in such a way that shocks every one of his nerves. Alone, this wouldn't do much. But Viktor's voice in his ear is what ignites the fire the way it should, until Yuuri finds himself heavily anticipating the moment he's allowed to dip his hand further beneath the covers to where all of the heat is building. He's done little more than caress himself thus far, yet each touch feels like a kiss from Viktor's own lips. Listening to him describe the things Yuuri should do to himself, as though it were Viktor's touch and not his own, makes his blood rush south so fast he feels a little dizzy from it.

It feels so good. It's also nowhere enough.

“I wish I could kiss you right now,” Viktor laments from afar. “The sounds you make are so sweet, but I bet they taste even sweeter. The way you moan in my mouth is heaven itself.”

“Viktor,” Yuuri whimpers helplessly. He's so hard, it's borderline painful. It's been too long since he's felt this good. He needs release as badly as he needs Viktor by his side.

With barely concealed surprise, Viktor asks, “Are you hard already?”

“Yes.”

“Wow. In that case, I suppose I shouldn't tease you for much longer. Do you have any lube?”

“Um... I think so.”

“You think so. Oh, my. Someone's been busy.” Viktor chuckles to himself. “Well? What are you waiting for then? Don't you want to feel me jerk you off? You must be dying for it. I know I am.”

It takes a few seconds to snap open the night stand drawer by his bed, but only because Yuuri's so eager for it his hand refuses to cooperate as efficiently as he wants.

“Fuck,” Yuuri gasps as he drips the last of his lube over himself, shivering as it runs down his hot length like a racing chill, “it's cold.”

“Warm it up for me, babe,” Viktor purrs to him. It elicits more chills all over Yuuri's skin. “Let me spread it all over you. I want to get you all nice and wet.”

Yuuri doesn't waste any time doing as he's told – which is how he finds out way too quickly this is not going to last the way he wishes.

“Viktor,” he gasps. The sound of himself in his hand is shamefully slick in his ears, desperate for a pleasure out of his reach. He's terribly sensitive, like this is all brand new. He aches so hard for release, he can feel it barrelling towards him like a freight train, and he's in no state to jump out of the way. “It's so... I'm not gonna...”

“You're close already?”

Maybe if they were in person the humiliation alone would stop Yuuri's hand, or shame his pleasure into withering to nothing, but he supposes there's something to be said about being physically alone right now that helps shield him from the worst of it. He can only defend himself with, “Please don't make fun of me. You don't know how badly I need this.”

“Is that so? Let me see you, then. Show me how much you miss me. I want to see you lose it.”

That's all the permission he needs. Hand moving with quick abandon, Yuuri gives in. He's mindless with pleasure, riding those sweet waves higher and higher, until they come crashing down faster than he can brace himself for. He tries to hold his breath through it, hold back any sound that gives him away out of habit, but at Viktor's gentle call he lets it all go, a weakened little, “Aaahhh...,” all so Viktor knows how good it all feels despite the miles between them.

For a brief, wonderful moment, it feels like he's not alone anymore.

However, like any pleasure given by his own hand, the relief only lasts for so long.

-

When Yuuri reluctantly finds himself again, he can hardly bring himself to care how loud he's been panting, or what a mess he's made of himself. How long has he been lying here, wasted away to nothing? He's uncertain. He's not even sure he cares.

“How beautiful,” Viktor whispers on the other end, so soft and satisfied that it almost feels like he's the one that drowned in pleasure instead. “Thank you for showing me. I'll never forget this.”

Yuuri's not sure what to say, so he settles with an awkward, “You're welcome. Um. What about you? ... Will you let me see you, too?”

He expects something flirtatious in return, perhaps more teasing, but instead he receives a strangely small, “I'm all right. I got more than enough from you tonight.”

Something about the choice of words scrapes against Yuuri's brain in an unpleasant way, yet he can't pinpoint the reason why. “Are you sure?”

“How do you feel?” Viktor asks instead. “I bet you're worn out enough to sleep now.”

Yuuri blinks in the darkness. Why does everything suddenly feel off kilter? He felt so pleasant a moment ago, but now his stomach is twisting itself into knots. Why does he suddenly get the feeling Viktor was only trying to wear him out so he can finally leave and return to whatever cave he's been hiding in these past few weeks?

“I kept you too long,” Yuuri guesses aloud. That must be it. Of course it is. He's messed up again. “I'm sorry. I knew you had to get up early, and I still made you stay with me.”

“What?”

“I'm sorry,” Yuuri apologizes again, because what else can he do? “I won't ask you to stay anymore.”

“Yuuri? What's wrong?” Viktor's voice is tiny again, but something about it feels worse now. Not distant, but weakened. “Weren't we just having fun?”

He can feel a million words bubbling at the back of his throat, except Yuuri's so worn out that he doesn't even have the energy to let them pop. He can only lie on his side and pray this is a small enough mistake that it can be forgiven easily enough to not drag into tomorrow.

“Yuuri,” Viktor starts again, no less gentle than before, “I'll always stay if you ask me to. Tomorrow doesn't matter.”

“Doesn't it?”

“... Are you okay? This isn't really about staying up late, is it?”

“I don't know,” Yuuri says, even as the next words spiral out as, “it's just this is the first time in weeks we've really spent any time together.”

And I can't fight this feeling that something is wrong and you won't tell me. What are you hiding from me?

“Oh.” Viktor pauses. “Is it?”

“You really didn't notice?”

“I...”

“I get it,” Yuuri says for him. “You've been busy.” Always, always busy.

“Wait. It's not like that.”

“I don't even know what you're up to these days,” Yuuri continues. “Nothing that you don't post on your Patreon, anyway. I only get the same updates you think are acceptable for strangers paying for your time. Whenever we actually talk, you avoid telling me about what you're up to. It's always one distraction or another instead.”

The silence on the other end is so long, Yuuri almost swears that the line has finally gone dead. Only if he really listens, shutting out the scared sound his blood pounding in his ears, he thinks he can hear Viktor still breathing.

Finally, Viktor says something. With a weak laugh, he gives in. “You're right. You caught me. I guess you weren't the only one hiding or putting things off...”

Ignoring the mess on his belly, the strange position his pajama pants sit in around his thighs, or the way his shirt awkwardly inches down his torso as he sits up, Yuuri squeezes his hand tight around his phone. “What aren't you telling me?”

“I...”

“Please?”

“Just – things have been hard. Since you left.” Viktor quickly tags on, “Not because you left! Though I'm sure it would all be easier if you were here... ah, forget I said that. Ignore me.”

Yuuri hates this part. Not that there are problems. Things left unsaid, realities that are hard to see from miles away if they're not shared over a screen. That's unfortunately how this works. He hates that he can't be there in a short drive. Fly down the streets and be there at Viktor's side the same hour a problem come up. Whatever happens – no matter how far away they are, and how much all of it feels like it's buried deeply within Yuuri's own chest – there's really only so much he can do at a moment's notice.

Even still, he will always try his best, because it's always what Viktor will deserve.

When the other side remains quiet, like Viktor's too ashamed to speak any more on it, Yuuri tries again.

“Vicchan,” Yuuri whispers into his phone. It's not often he uses that name – sparingly, if anything – because it feels so potent that he must be careful when he does. But he's growing desperate. “Please tell me.”

As the fear begins to build that maybe Viktor will continue to resist, he's relieved instead to be given an actual answer instead.

“... I can't do it. The costume. It's garbage. It's in the garbage.”

“Loki?” Yuuri guesses. As if he needs to guess. What other costume would Viktor be working on? There's only been this one for a long time now.

“Yeah. I... God, this is so stupid.”

“It's not. I promise it's not.”

Viktor laughs like he doesn't believe it. “Yeah, well, I don't know how else to describe the scream that happened in my head when I tried some of the damn thing on and ripped it off before it could burn me any longer. It looks wrong. It feels wrong. I don't... I don't know if I can make or wear another masculine costume again. Not if it feels like this. I don't know if I want to find out. It's so much money to wash down the drain.”

Oh, Yuuri realizes, as the mental image of mos of Viktor's cosplay closet flashes before his eyes. Oh, shit.

Viktor makes a frustrated noise. “Anyway. It's dead. I'm not doing it. I literally cannot. And now I have to find some way to explain to people that the thing they paid for and have been waiting on for months isn't happening without it royally fucking with my reputation. I've never quit anything before. I've always made it work.”

Worrying his lips between his teeth, Yuuri thinks. “I've had to bow out of things before. So have my friends. Most people have, not just cosplayers. Sometimes certain projects aren't in the cards, at least not at the time. It's not unusual. I'm sure most of your fans will understand. Do you need help writing a post? We could...”

“No,” Viktor sighs, “this is something I need to do. It's my job. I'm responsible for it.”

“I suppose...”

“What's funny is I didn't even get to sewing most of it. All that stuff I showed you months ago? Some of it is shoved in a bin right now. I don't even know what I was thinking, grabbing all that extra trim when it wouldn't have worked anyway. Whatever I did attempt to make is long gone, but now I have all this stuff I can't even use. Isn't that typical?” Viktor groans. “What other green character can I use them for? Not that I should. If I did, I think I'd piss people off even more. They want Loki, not some other green man. Have you seen the comments lately?”

“Some of them,” Yuuri admits. He tries not to look too hard, lest he get into a lot of internet fights and make both him and Viktor look real bad. He'd be lying if he wasn't looking on occasion to make sure no one was giving Viktor shit about their personal lives – which so far seems to have petered out, at least for the moment – but Yuuri now wonders if most of those comments have been deleted before they could be witnessed...

He can picture the utter exhaustion and fear on Viktor's face as he talks. “It's getting bad. They're getting tired of waiting. I'm starting to get DMs about it.”

“How many?”

“Enough of them.”

Yuuri winces. The answer is simple enough, though deceptively so. Tell the truth, and risk losing patrons. Hold back, and still risk losing patrons who become too fed up to continue with their monetary support. The results are more or less the same at this point if the costume can't be made, and yet Viktor's holding back.

It hits Yuuri like a brick to the head.

“You still want to make it,” he says. “Or, you think you still can.”

“Can't I?” Only Viktor doesn't sound like the brave, fearless cosplayer Yuuri has always admired. He sounds scared. In over his head in a depth no one can tread in forever. “Can't I make it work in some way?”

Yuuri challenges with, “Is it really worth it?”

“No. Yes. It could be. It's not about me.”

“It is about you.” Yuuri doesn't mean to sound like he's growing impatient. He grimaces at himself for the intensity behind it. But he's scared, too. Not because he can't handle change or last minute obstacles, but his growing concern that Viktor can't, and he's not there to make sure that he will be able to. “You more or less said it. Your dysphoria gets too bad wearing anything related to this costume? Then don't.”

“Don't. I hate that word...”

“It's what it is, isn't it? Or did you mean your costume literally burned you when you put it on?”

Viktor falls quiet.

Well, here's the wall. Whenever conversation inches anywhere towards this particular topic, Viktor always flinches away, too resistant to further discussion. Normally Yuuri's fine to let it be, but maybe he's deluded himself into thinking this issue would be fine on its own for a while longer. But Yuuri doesn't know what to do, besides talk about it. Viktor needs to find another way around it? Trying to go straight through isn't working – it's too blunt in a spot with too sensitive from bruising. There's gotta be another way to get Viktor to listen to reason.

Although it's a shot in the dark, Yuuri finds something.

He says, “Listen. I have a story for you.”

“Is it a fun story?”

Yuuri shrugs as he reaches for some tissue on his nightstand and finally begins to clean himself off as best he can. “Sure, why not. Are you listening?”

“Always.”

“The first time I crossplayed,” Yuuri starts, “it was the most stressful day of my life.”

“... So, not a fun story.”

“Shush. I'm only getting started.” Tossing the dirty tissue into the tiny garbage bin on the floor, Yuuri leans back against the headboard of his bed. Recollecting this story makes him want to cringe the way any adult does at their teenage self, but hey, if it helps someone, then it's worth it. He'll try anything at this point. “My very first costume – ever, not just crossplay, but cosplay in general – was Goddess Madoka.”

“... Wait, don't tell me, that one is...”

“Remember the panel you came to? The giant white dress, wings, and long pink wig?”

“Oh! Yes, I do now. It looked perfect.”

“Hardly. I picked the wrong fabric, I had no idea how to style the wig so the bangs were constantly getting in my eyes, the contacts were cheap and barely worked, my make-up was a mess, and the heels were a bitch to wear. The photo you saw was a slightly revamped version of her I did a year or two later. Still not very good, but not as bad. But the original? Oh, God. It was a giant sensory nightmare to actually wear.”

“Oooh. Yeah, I can see that.”

“Right? Anyway, it was my first attempt at anything. Kind of a big costume for a first-timer, but I remember looking at her and thinking, yeah, I can do that. Viktor would be so impressed by it if he ever saw it.”

It's small, but Yuuri hears the, “Oh,” on the other end as loud as day. It's enough to crack a pitiful smile from Yuuri's lips.

“You'd disappeared by then, but some part of me was convinced you were still going to cons, and, hey, maybe you'd be at the one I was going to? I don't know why I thought that. I guess I was desperate. It was an hour or so from home, and I was going by myself. I, uh, didn't really have the kind of friends that would want to go to something like that. But it was just for the day, so I figured it couldn't hurt to go by myself. My mother had to be in the area anyway, so she drove me out there and dropped me off. What a mistake that was. My skirt was so long and the wings were huge, I totally needed a handler to watch them.”

“Mn, yeah. Crowd's are not good with walking around cosplayers with big costumes, let alone paying attention to other attendees in general.”

“Exactly. I got overwhelmed so fast. I remember people asking for my picture, but I was distracted just trying to stay up right and out of the way of everyone else. Every time someone asked, a volunteer would yell at me to get out of the way and stop blocking the hallway, or people would walk in front or around me like I wasn't there. All that and trying to make sure I looked good for the picture was too much to deal with.”

Viktor replies, “I'll bet. You must have been anxious.”

“Very. I ended up hiding in corners and along walls, ignoring everyone. I'm sure my resting bitch face was terrible.”

“You don't have a – ”

“Oh, yes, I do,” Yuuri flatly interrupts. “Trust me. I do. I see it all the time in hallway pics.”

Viktor hums. “Yuuri? When does the story turn fun?”

“I thought you gave up on that.”

The response he gets is far too honest for Yuuri's nerves to handle. “I'm trying not to give up in general right now.”

That's all Yuuri needs to hear to get to the point. “Okay. Fun part coming up. Although part of me really wished you'd be there and I could show off, I knew my first attempt at this was a massive failure because of how uncomfortable I felt. Even though it was something I wanted so badly to do. I wanted to be like you. I was starting to think I should call my mother and go home when someone came up to me...”

“Oh?”

“... Wait,” Yuuri lets out a small laugh, “I have to ask. It's relevant, I swear. Do you know who kyubey is?”

“Who?”

“Evil. Pure evil. Don't worry about it. Anyway, it was Phichit, dressed up as a human version of him. One minute I was staring at the floor, trying not to fall over from how dizzy I felt, and the next I hear him say, 'Hey, want to sign a contract with me real quick? I promise I'm trustworthy.'”

“A contract?” Viktor repeats in disbelief.

Yuuri laughs to himself. “I'll explain later. I looked up, and there he is, totally oblivious to the fact my head was spinning. I don't even remember what he said after. He kept talking a mile a minute. But eventually Phichit noticed I was super out of it and asked me if I was okay. I can't remember what I said or did, but he moved me over to a part of the wall where I could sit down without blocking anyone, and then he ran off. I was really confused the whole time. I didn't even know he planned to come back. He just did, with some probably way overpriced water. He refused to leave until he saw me drink the whole thing down.”

Viktor makes a pleased sound. “Look at him being a good friend before you were even friends.”

Nodding in agreement, Yuuri says, “Truly the type to give you the shirt off his back. He sat down beside me like it was nothing, talking like we were already good friends. I think maybe he was trying to distract me from the noise all around us. It didn't work at first, but eventually I started to focus on what he was doing and not the crowd. I'm not sure he meant to, but he was really funny to watch.” Yuuri smiles at the memory, old as the grainy photos Viktor used to take, but preserved in his mind like the precious thing it is. “Eventually he got up, but instead of leaving, he asked if I wanted to come along.”

“And you said yes? Please tell me you said yes.”

“I would have really regretted it if I hadn't,” is Yuuri's answer.

Viktor makes a relieved sound on the other end.

“I'm not sure words can do it justice,” Yuuri continues, “but the way I felt before and after... it was like night and day. Yeah, I still felt self conscious in my costume, wondering if I looked good at all, but I felt so much better with someone matching beside me. We didn't even know each other yet, but people came up to us both assuming we were together, asking for our pictures. We took a bunch of silly ones that made a whole group of people laugh. It was so much fun. I still have some of them. I'll have to show you some time.”

“Please do.” Viktor pauses. “I don't mean to sound rude – I swear I loved hearing this – but what was the point of the story?”

“That sometimes,” Yuuri says, “one person can make all the difference. If I hadn't met him, I probably would have gone home and given up. I never would have worked harder. I never would have met anyone else and gone outside of my corner of the world.” It hurts to say, the realization of how true it is, but Yuuri says it anyway. “And then, I wouldn't have met you...”

The silence on the other end is painful to wait through.

Viktor lets out a sigh. “Yuuri, I don't think another person is going to fix this. This goes deeper than a single costume not feeling right on my body. It feels like a total shift – and I don't know if it's possible to go back.”

God, Yuuri wishes he were there now. How can he be okay with being so far away when Viktor needs him like this? He can only settle with, “I know. Then... let me say this. Whatever decision you make, I'm right here. Whatever risk you want to take. No matter how scary or uncomfortable, whether it turns out the way you intend to or not, I'll stand by you. I'll do whatever I can to make it better. You're not alone in this anymore.”

The other end goes quiet again.

“I mean that,” Yuuri asserts. “Whatever choice you decide is right. It's up to you, but you're not by yourself anymore.”

Continued silence.

Eventually, even Yuuri can't sit with the growing tension any longer. “Are you still there?”

“... I am.” Viktor's voice cracks. Yuuri swears he hears some wet sniffling in the background. “Yuuri, I'm sorry I've been distant... I'm only trying to hold it all together. I don't think I can do this much longer, but I don't know what else I can do. I'm scared. It feels like I'm going to lose everything if I'm not careful. It kind of already feels like I've lost everything already.”

Yuuri holds his own fear back. I'm scared, too.

Neither of them say anything for a long while. However, there is no escaping how late it's becoming. Yuuri doesn't want to leave this night on a negative note, especially when there's no way to hold Viktor as he sleeps. There has to be hope somewhere.

“Do you want to hear some good news?” he asks.

“Sure?”

“I finally told my parents about you.”

“You did?”

Yuuri smiles. “Yeah. They really want to meet you.”

Viktor sounds so baffled, it would be cute if it weren't a little sad. “They do?”

“Of course they do. This is a big deal.” Yuuri sighs. “I'm sure they thought I was going to be single forever, but you broke the curse. My father was even asking about grandchildren.”

“Oh, my...”

“Anyway.” Yuuri clears his throat. “Just so you know. There's some people over here who are very excited about your existence and want to get to know you soon.”

“O-Okay...” Except the next thing Yuuri knows, Viktor's apologizing again. “I'm sorry. I don't know how to react. I've never met someone's parents before. Not like that, anyway. I want to do it! Ah, but what if I mess it all up...”

“Hey,” Yuuri jokes, “don't start thinking like I do. Nothing's happened yet. We don't even have a date for this, right?”

“Ha, I guess not...”

Yuuri wets his lips. “Unless...”

“Hm?”

“... You said you didn't have any Christmas plans, right?” No birthday plans either, probably.

“Hm. I did.”

It's spontaneous, but the hope it gives Yuuri is enough to rejuvenate him. He hopes Viktor feels the same as he breathes it into life. “Well, what if you came up here for the holidays? Before you worry about space, my parent's place has more than enough room for all of us. Actually, my friends and I host our New Years party there every year. You wouldn't just get to see me, but everyone else as well. If that's something you're interested in. You could even bring Makkachin, if you want. My family loves dogs.”

Viktor sound hesitant. “... I...”

Doing his best to hide the growing heaviness of his heart, Yuuri asks, “Think on it? We still have time to decide. It's okay if you decide not to, but if you can... I'd love for you to be here.” Before the chance can escape him, he adds, “I want to be able to celebrate your existence in person. And so would everyone else. After the year we've had, you deserve a break.”

It's a long time, to the point Yuuri wonders if he should have asked at all, but finally Viktor answers with a small, “I'd love to come.”

Yuuri exhales with relief. “Okay. We'll figure out the logistics later? I should probably talk to my parents too, make sure it's actually okay with them.”

“Yuuri, how scandalous,” Viktor teases. “Inviting me over before they even know.”

“Hey, I'll ask! I know the answer is going to be yes. I'll call them tomorrow.”

“I'm sure you will.” Viktor yawns. “I should really get going... Long drive tomorrow.”

The night is finally closing, it has to, and yet Yuuri can't help but hold his breath. “Okay. I'll talk to you later?”

“As soon as I wake up,” Viktor promises. “Good night, sweetheart. Have a good day tomorrow.”

“You, too...”

It's far too quiet once the line is finally dead. Although Yuuri worries from afar, the chance that he'll get to see – and hold – Viktor in his arms sooner than anticipated is enough to calm him down to sleep for the night. The future is uncertain, but he can at least trust in this.

-

Viktor ❤:

I know it's bedtime, but I have to ask...

When you met him, did Phichit make a big deal about you crossdressing?

Yuuri:

Never came up. He never cared

Why?

No answer. The night is silent.

Chapter Text

There's no reason why it must be this hard, but at 5 AM and on only a few hours of restless sleep, Viktor can only stare flatly at the draft of his public shame glaring at him in the dark from his computer screen, unable to do anything more than let it privately exist to his eyes alone.

He's written and deleted it several times over now. No words seem to work no matter how he tries to explain the situation, but now he's so exhausted he can hardly bring himself to care how it sounds anymore.

In a few hours, he has to cram his things into the back of his car and hit the road for the next state over. He wants to try and squeeze in a few more hours of lying in bed and staring at his wall, but this must be done first.

Can't I do it later? Some part of Viktor begs himself, knowing full well if he doesn't do it this moment, he'll only keep post posting it again, and again, and again...

It feels like a mistake to do it at all. He'll be away for the weekend, too busy to handle questions and concerns, but since when has this project ever felt like anything but a huge mistake in recent days? If not now, then never, and his patrons deserve better than the constant radio silence. Maybe he would have waited longer if he hadn't confessed to Yuuri hours ago his troubles, but hearing his burden out loud in his own ears, the reality of it truly set in the way it should have weeks ago.

Like it or not, this is his livelihood, and he needs to be more responsible with it, no matter what the consequences are. He's too old to be playing this game.

Rubbing his dry eyes, Viktor sucks in a deep breath and looks over his post one last time.

It's deceptively simple, to the point where it almost feels like a punchline to a joke he didn't ask for.

However, he's certain no one will be laughing once they see it.

It reads:

Hello.

Due to circumstances beyond my control, the Loki costume must be delayed until a later time. I am unsure when this will be, but I will update you when I know. I apologize for the inconvenience and tardiness of this project. I have one more convention for this year coming up on the weekend, and when that is over I will return to working on it.

Liar, Viktor brain hisses, even as he swallows his pride and hits the dreaded 'post' button. Liar, liar, liar.

His fans deserve better than lies, too, but it seems he cannot bring himself to stop doing that, either.

It'll be better when I wake up, Viktor tells himself as he collapses atop the mess that is his bed. Sleep is a magic remedy for most things. That's what he keeps telling himself, anyway. Maybe Yuuri's right and rest is what he needs...

-

It's been a few weeks since Yuuri left his side, and Viktor cannot for the life of himself tell you what he has done in that time.

Oh, he's been working. But not on Loki. Ever since that night in the work shed, panicked adrenaline has taken over. Striking him like lightning, he could see too vividly everything he's worked so hard for over the years disappearing in an instant. Thus, he's shoved his current project aside and picked up as many commissions he can realistically pour his time and labour into. It solves nothing. It's all a blur of foam, resin, paint fumes. He's still on the edge, one mistake away from tilting off the corner of his world into oblivion, but working hands distract his mind enough into believing he'll be okay if he makes one more prop, just one more, one more...

It's almost crazy, the number of small projects he's completed in a few short days. Not long after they were taken on, advanced payment sitting safely in his bank account, they were already tucked away in cardboard boxes surrounded by packing peanuts, along with a mini cosplay print and his business card as small token of thanks and advertisement. Once they were officially shipped away space was immediately opened up for more, and more Viktor took on.

A thousand or so dollars, made just like that. His time and expertise is high enough value to demand it in exchange for his labour – and yet it's still not enough for Viktor to be able to breathe.

Because, just like that, a thousand or so dollars could also be gone, and he could be back to where he was. The faint ghost of his younger, struggling self is always on the periphery of his view, a foot or two away from coming back into full view.

He has to keep going, even if it kills him.

-

Ha. Sleep. Right. Why did he think he would be allowed this, too?

-

Morning eventually comes, even if it feels like it required pulling teeth for it to happen.

Viktor does his best to ignore his phone when he finally pries his tired ass back out of bed, but of course Viktor's fans aren't the only ones who have seen his embarrassing post.

“Need a break from the god of mischief, huh?” Chris asks over breakfast. It's quick and easy this morning, a bowl of oatmeal with sliced apples and a dash of cinnamon and brown sugar on top. Viktor's coffee awaits him, prepared exactly the way he likes.

Viktor's sadly fully aware of why, but the moment he left his bedroom, a tense feeling had crept over his back and shoulders, ready to flinch at the first word thrown at him like the punch he expects them to be. It's a feeling he knows all too well. It used to be his normal. Maybe, some days, it still is. His body knows he's about to disappoint everyone. Time to prepare for the inevitable backfire. For that reason, the sight of breakfast at the table takes him by surprise – why is he being rewarded for bad behaviour? – which makes Viktor want to apologize for a crime he's never committed.

It's silly he still feels this nonsense in his own home, with his best friend, who would never lash out over Viktor's personal choices, regardless of whether he agreed with them or not, but here we are.

He's sure his therapist would love to analyze this.

“Just a small one,” Viktor answers. It may be a lie, it may not be, he's unsure yet. “It's... not working out quite the way I want. Might as well wait until con season is over for me to focus on it properly.”

Chris nods along, blissfully unaware of how deep this hole is continuing to dig. “Breaks are good. You've been working at this one for a while now, so you likely need fresh eyes to see where it's not working out for you. I do it all the time with photos.”

Viktor simply sips his coffee and tries not to think about it too hard.

His stomach hurts too much for food, but he's able to force down a few decent sized bites, if only so he's not worrying his roommate across the table.

-

Yuuri, of course, notices the post right away, too. Which is around the time Viktor's packing up his car for the long ride, trying his best to carefully arrange his boxes of prints and products alongside his booth set-up without risking the crushing of either things. You'd think he'd be a master of this by now, but it's harder to manage when his thoughts are miles away. The little notification from his phone alerting him that Yuuri is now awake at least gives him a much needed distraction for the moment.

❤ Sweetheart ❤ :

Hey... I saw your post. You okay?

Viktor:

I will be

I keep talking myself out of deleting it, but you know, it is what it is

I haven't looked at comments yet. Not sure I can handle that right now anyway

❤ Sweetheart ❤ :

I get it

I haven't looked at the comments yet, either. Don't wanna fight anyone on your page lol

Let me know if you need anything?

Viktor:

I will <3

❤ Sweetheart ❤ :

Drive safe <3

It's brief, but the small exchange is enough to allow Viktor a breath of air for the moment.

-

Most conventions tend to blend from one into the other, given the obscene number of them Viktor has been to over the course of his life, and this one really isn't all that different. It's a small-ish con, a few thousand or more regular attendees, and a cozy one for locals. It has the usual colourful, boisterous crowds that pack the hallways, the invisible wall between Viktor's booth and the rest of the weekend's event, and the familiar soreness in his feet as he stands up all day to greet fans and customers who browse his humble offerings. (Thanks, Sidon heels. He has no one to blame but himself for this one. At least he feels okay looming over everyone today. Small miracles.) Viktor even swears he recognizes some of the costumes that wander by, though from where, he can't ascertain. That's a given since he's only a few hours from home and a regular at many of the cons around the east coast. However, there's no leaving his table to go exploring this weekend to find out if he recognizes more, not if he wants to make back what he paid for the table and have enough profit to make the trip worth it.

Luckily, Chris was able to tag along and be here as his handler. He stands next to Viktor, taking cash and handing back change as Viktor sells his wares. The company is good as always, and it's nice that someone else here can help fill the small gaps of silence and boredom in between bouts of work.

Despite the tedium, Viktor can't help but brace himself for each exchange with an approaching customer, even when none of them say anything about his very public post this morning. He really does have to remind himself that the majority of people who know who he is don't necessarily regularly pay for his content, or even pay attention to most updates. They may not even be fans – there's been plenty of people who have stopped walking just to stare at his sign like, “Wow, someone that talented is here?” As if there aren't any other Master level cosplayers happily wandering the floors. Just because he's well known amongst other cosplayers doesn't mean most con attendees would know.

Even still, he's getting tired of holding his breath and expecting the worst. He almost wishes the inevitable punch in the face would finally just land.

Eyeing him from off to the side, Chris nods at Viktor's empty coffee cup and asks, “Want a refill?”

He probably shouldn't, but the bone deep exhaustion is starting to catch up with him, and he still has hours to go. “Mn. Yeah. Just a medium this time. And maybe a water as well, if you can?”

Chris salutes, ever the on-going convention soldier. “On it, sir.”

For the moment, Viktor's left alone. No handler, no customers asking him about prices or trying to barter. Predictably, the calm doesn't last long. Before Viktor can really savour his crappy folding chair, he looks up and sees someone approaching. Under a dozen layers of make-up and colourful accessories, it's a little hard to tell their gender from a glance. Either way, they seem a little shy, so Viktor's careful to keep his voice gentle and friendly as he greets them.

“Hello. How's your con going?”

The young con goer mumbles a reply that Viktor doesn't catch, which is far from unusual around these events given the noise level, so Viktor simply smiles along and lets them quietly browse his table.

“If you have any questions, I'm right here,” Viktor offers instead. He begins to bend back down into his seat when the congoer actually speaks up.

“Um... I hope... everything's okay.”

Viktor's brow lifts. “Pardon?”

“Your post this morning. My friends and I were talking about it... We're big fans.”

Viktor feels himself freeze.

Unfortunately, this is not the time or place for this, so Viktor keeps going. “We?” he repeats.

The young attendee subtly glances behind them. Viktor's eyes follow towards the background, honing in on a small group of teenagers waiting for this person to finish up. Like the person in front of him, they're dressed to the nine's in bold J-fashion, each person standing out from the others. You'd think they would all clash, but strangely they feel like a set that should not be separated. They're also huddled close together, whispering conspiratorially to each other. They're clearly too scared to approach on their own but fully willing to send a lone messenger over on their own. It's a little funny.

Viktor keeps a straight face as best he can. He's been lucky no one's brought it up yet, but it was bound to happen whether he liked it or not. At least this encounter appears to be well intentioned. Turning on a polite smile, Viktor replies, “I promise everything's fine. Work just got away from me. You said you're a fan? Would you like a free sticker?”

Given the already extremely exaggerated make-up on their face, their surprise is borderline cartoonish to witness. “R-Really?!”

“Of course.” Picking up the small wicker basket of stickers featuring his cosplay logo with a chibi version of Makkachin he had commissioned a long time ago, he shakes the basket towards them. “Your friends can have some, too. The more the merrier.”

“Hey, did he say free stickers?!” one of their friends shouts from the background.

Viktor can't help but laugh this time.

If there's one thing – among many – that he loves about cons, it's about how easy it is for natural inhibitions to fly away at the promise of a little fun.

While a small crowd hovers around the basket, picking between the three versions available, Viktor notices more movement in the background. Another teenager hangs in the background, but unlike this group, he's not clad in bright or gothic J-fashion accessories and clothes. Rather, he's garbed in muted green and brown, a silent knight from deep in the woods.

Viktor perks up. Oh. Twilight Princess Link. Now you don't see that very often these days.

(God, is Viktor getting old, or does this clearly teenaged cosplayer look just old enough to have played that as a young kid? Viktor shudders to think how old he was when that game came out. Where is time going?)

At a glance, Viktor can tell it's a costume that's been purchased off one of the many websites online that sell it, for he's seen it before over the years. The familiar trim, the exact cut of the simple and cheap fabric. There's no wig, the golden yellow hair on this kid's head too natural to be plastic fibers styled to the extreme with hair spray or glue, but the way it's cut still allows a mysterious shadow across this person's face from their side-swept bangs. Not as common to do these days, but Viktor remembers when he used to style his own hair for silver haired anime characters. Cheap in a pinch, though not always as practical as one would expect.

Interestingly enough, the rest of the costume appears to have been hand made. A large foam Hylian shield and wooden Master sword are in the cosplayer's hands, the edges fairly smooth, the surface painted to look like the old and well respected weapons they are. They're not the shiny plastic one would expect from a seller online. Either this cosplayer has been learning foam and wood work, or they know someone who is well versed in those crafts.

Honestly, if it's the former, and at that age? Pretty damn impressive. Not even Viktor bothers much with woodwork, mainly for weight reasons. He never found wooden weapons all that comfortable to actually carry around. And the less he needs to charge for shipping, the better.

Viktor takes a second glance, and he realizes the green eyes staring him down from across the way are strangely intense beneath the bangs sweeping across his face. There's not a hint of cheer or friendliness anywhere on this person. And yet they stare at Viktor like they know him.

Viktor understands his memory isn't the greatest, far from the most reliable some days, but he's certain he would recognize someone like this. Wouldn't he?

All the same, Viktor meant what he said, so he smiles over at the silent guest in welcome. For all he knows this person is friends with this group as well. He'd hate to leave someone out.

“Hello. Would you like one as well?”

The teenager tsks. “Is this what you do when you're slacking?”

Viktor stares, unsure that he heard right through the thick wall of noise surrounding them. (Who is he kidding, though. He heard.) When the stranger continues to glare at him a few feet away, Viktor decides it's best to play stupid for both their sake. If only to protect his affable reputation. Besides, maybe he did mishear the young boy. It's not uncommon at these events. Plenty of congoers are on the more socially awkward side of things, especially if they're young and new to the hobby, not yet taught the etiquette of the scene. Why not give him a chance to smarten up if he was being rude?

“Did you come to see me?” Viktor asks.

“Why else would I be here?” the stranger retorts.

Ah.

I can't read minds, kid. Way to make me do all the work for this little interaction you so clearly want. Is this a displeased fan, finally here in the flesh? Viktor could ask, but what good would that do? Honestly, he doesn't really want to know, anyway. The suspicion alone is making him break out in an ice cold sweat.

(Viktor's mind flashes back to the post he made hours ago, wondering – and he just as quickly snaps himself back to the present, refusing to think about it on the job.)

The kid continues to stare at Viktor, evidently waiting for him to keep the interaction going. Whelp. Time to play dumb. If this person wants to instigate, Viktor will let him make the first move. Staff will have fun with that, if he tries.

“I like your Link cosplay,” Viktor replies instead, playing dumb. “My boyfriend's a huge fan of the character. Can I take your picture? I'm sure he'd love to see it. We could even take a picture together if you'd like!” He gives a little laugh. “Sidon would be a fan of any Link, I'm sure. Is this your first Link cosplay, or have you done others?”

In spite of how common abrupt photos with complete strangers are at a con, the blond teenager blinks at Viktor's question like he's just been doused with cold water. It dissipates right away as the kid heats up, his face reddening with some emotion Viktor can't discern. “What? Are you fucking serious?”

Even the group of other teenagers stop and look at this kid like he's grown another head. After mumbling to each other, they disperse, leaving Viktor alone with the punk.

Viktor resists the urge to roll his eyes. So he is being rude on purpose. Whatever. What's a little terror on his nerves today of all days, anyway? “Never mind, it was only a suggestion. Anyway, I have plenty of stickers here if you'd also like one. I have more than enough to go around.”

There's a long pause. The teenager narrows his eyes. He opens his mouth as if to say something – and then obviously changes his mind as he mutters, “Never mind. This was a waste of time after all.”

Turning up the customer service voice up a few notches, Viktor chimes back with, “Aw, come on. Nothing's a waste of time. Look, everyone loves puppy stickers. You sure you don't want one for your trouble?”

“I don't care about some dog stickers,” the stranger spits out.

And I no longer care about this conversation. “Well, if you change your mind...”

But the teenager has already spun on their heel and stormed off, an angry storm cloud hanging over their head. He almost crashes into Chris on his way back, just narrowly dodging the older man and his cardboard tray of drinks.

“Whoa,” Chris arches his brow high at the storm exiting the artists hall, “what was his problem?”

Viktor sighs. “Who the hell knows.”

And the less said about that, the better!

-

The strange event leaves Viktor in a sour mood, but it's not one he can deal with until the artist alley has closed down for the day. In typical retail like fashion, he buries his own growing storm behind as many sunlit clouds as possible so his own sky can pass for anything other than grey. The rest of the people who come to his table don't appear to notice, or care, that he's one more bad encounter from snapping. All that matters is that Viktor's still smiling at them, taking pictures with them, showing off homemade goods and talking about anything they bring up.

All of which Viktor, naturally, happily complies with. What is he if not an entertainer dancing for coin?

But God, do his feet ever hurt.

8 PM finally rolls around after several more hours of putting on a show. The alley finally winds down for the night. Other artists fix their messed up tables, throw blankets over their set-up, grab money and valuables that can't be trusted to be left here on their own, and sort through their things before making their escape for the night.

“Not a bad day,” Chris grunts as he leans back and cracks his back. “Not sure I can feel my legs anymore, but we made a pretty penny.”

“Yeah,” Viktor breathes out.

“What do you feel like for supper? I think I saw a Mexican place around the corner. I'd kill for some good birria tacos.”

“Mn, sure. Sounds good.”

He can feel Chris' eyes staring into him from the other side of the table, but Viktor focuses on counting up the last of his bills and the remainder of his stock.

For a first day, it has already been quite profitable...

... and yet, still, Viktor's breath still feels trapped in his lungs.

-

Chris does end up ordering from the Mexican restaurant down the street. Viktor orders himself some chicken fajitas and rice as a formality, but they end up sitting on the table ignored when Chris comes back with their order.

The room is dead silent when Chris returns, the only light the small table lamp in between their two beds. Viktor stands in a dark corner of the room by the covered window, staring down silently at his phone.

Frozen by the table, Chris visibly pauses before asking in a cautious voice, “Viktor... Why are you staring at your phone like that?” He lets out an uneasy laugh. “Don't tell me – a celebrity just died? Please tell me it wasn't Betty White, I don't think my old, gay soul could take it.”

He says something else, likely another joke, but Viktor can hardly hear him past the heartbeat pounding like a war drum in his ears.

It was a mistake a check his Patreon.

It was also a mistake to be left alone for half an hour – just long enough for the guilt ridden half of himself to talk himself into finally checking his messages and DMs – but perhaps there was no avoiding this forever. He was going to see these at some point, whether he likes it or not.

Like a fool, he's spent the past thirty or so minutes endlessly scrolling through a hell of his own making, the comments seemingly endless, melting into each other like lava that burns his eyes –

are you fucking serious it's been months, you're kidding me this fucking heshe girlboy is distracting you isn't it, ugh chat how do I get months of money back from this guy, who do I email Fuck this, I'm out c'mon guys loki's kinda overdone by this point anyway, is it really that big a loss uh when you promise something for MONTHS and then bail out it is! We don't know what's going on, leave him alone Yes we do! He's been busy with that tranny wierdo, didn't you see those pics a week ago?? So he can hang out all day with that thing but he can't do his actual job, what is wrong with him, why can't he just do it, why can't he

why –

why –

why –

WHY –

– each comment is a whiplash of fire against his skin, exploding against him with each slap of its flames, but instead of recoiling in fear, praying the hands at the other end of these attacks finally tire of their abuse, Viktor's insides start to burn with a feeling he's spent years denying could ever smoulder inside him.

But it sparked not so long ago, and now its embers appears to be here to stay.

If it were any other day, a different feeling would overwhelm him. The same one he's been burdened with since the first day many months ago when he felt like he had permission to cry for himself again. Lately, whenever the world became too much, his eyes would well up against his will, and his body would do its best to expel the terrible emotion from him the only way it seemed it could. Sometimes alone, sometimes with a witness is there, but in the end Viktor always felt worse for it, weakened by something he couldn't control, pain he couldn't let go of.

Though it all came from the same place deep inside, this is a completely different feeling altogether. After years of desperately trying to please the unpleasable, crying himself utterly dry, there's no other feeling left to wring out of him.

Now, there's only this.

How dare they talk to him like this.

How dare they talk about Yuuri at all!

He knows the whole room is burning with it, with no safe way to diminish it back down to the embers it's been roasting as since the day his Loki mask burned his body with its overpowering demands.

“Viktor...?” In the background, he hears Chris trying to get his attention. “What are you – ”

Before Chris has a chance to finish his sentence, Viktor spins around, raises his arm to whip his phone across the room –

– and then in the last possible second, forces his hand down, and stomps the anger back down to where it belongs.

He must look so ridiculous right now. Only half out of his costume, the liminal space between Viktor and Sidon, and yet that fact only makes him angrier.

Flinching, Chris blinks at him several times before reacting. “Whoa. Okay. What the hell did I miss?”

Surprisingly, Viktor answers.

“Absolute bullshit,” he snaps. “I'm over it. I'm over all of it.”

The answer visibly confused Chris, who holds up his hands in caution. In an attempt to lighten the mood, he jokes, “Okay, you can't be that hungry. I didn't take that long.”

Viktor's in no mood to laugh. “I don't want to eat.”

“What? But you haven't eaten in hours. Coffee doesn't count as food.”

“I don't care.”

Chris looks at him, then over at the phone in Viktor's hand. His expression steels itself. “All right. But what were you just looking at? And don't lie to me and say it was nothing, because you were okay when I left this room.”

That almost makes Viktor want to laugh. I haven't been okay in forever. I don't know why you're so surprised.

Thank God he has enough control to not say that aloud.

He could say “take a look yourself,” but something about letting Chris see the mess on his professional page is deeply, deeply embarrassing, enough so to shock Viktor into some sense of shame, where it finally smothers the remaining anger threatening to lash out again to a dying gasp of warm air. In an instant, the flash of the fire is gone, leaving him in the cold dark.

When Viktor doesn't answer, Chris whips out the worst card from the desk he could possibly pull at a time like this. “Viktor. Don't make me call Yuuri. Because I will. I'm sure he'd be happy to tell me what's going on. Unless it's about him?”

Viktor swallows. No – no, that's worse. He doesn't need Yuuri to see this, either. Assuming that he hasn't already.

Fuck.

“Fine.” He'd rather rip his hair out, but Viktor gives in. “It's my last Patreon post. See for yourself, if you want.”

Chris says nothing. Just stares hard and unblinking into Viktor's eyes from across the room as he smoothly pulls out his cell phone from his back pocket and unlocks it. He only pries them away to pull up the page, where his eyes lock onto the screen with all the intensity of a parent examining their child's report card. Seconds go by like minutes, and it's a long, long time before Chris says anything else.

Despite half his costume sitting on the bed, Viktor suddenly feels very, very hot in his skin. The layers of face paint certainly aren't helping. A bead of sweat builds on his forehead and threatens to dribble down. A lot of things said in that endless hole to hell will raise as many questions, and he's unsure if he's ready to address any of it.

Eventually, Chris slides his phone back into his pocket. When he finally speaks, it's so casual, so blithe, it almost makes Viktor stumble backwards into the wall.

“Wow. That's a lot of hate comments.” Without missing a beat, Chris smiles and says, “So, when do we team up with the rest of the squad and go take these assholes out?”

“W-What?”

“You heard me.”

Did he? Viktor's not so sure.

“No one speaks to you – or Yuuri – like that,” Chris continues. “I don't care what they pay you. If you can't do it, I can go through them and make them unsubscribe. I don't give a damn how pissed they are.”

“... I can't do that,” Viktor says.

“Right, so I'll do it.”

Viktor only shakes his head.

Chris makes a face at that. “Fine. Give me the password and I'll delete their comments, then.”

Viktor closes his eyes tight against the abrupt headache beginning behind his eyes. “No. I'm not making you do that.”

“You're not making me. I'm offering. Watch me. It'll be easy.”

Viktor says, “Until they notice and come back even worse than before.”

Until they start coming to him in person, like several have today. Even if some meant well and had only sympathy, he can't know their intentions just from looking at them. If they're lashing out in his comments, there's only so much time before they start doing so in person like that one Link cosplayer.

Chris presses his lips together. He looks like there's a hundred things he wants to say, but none of them pass the logic check as reality filters in. “... Well. Shit. Okay, you got me there. They certainly seem like the type to complain harder.”

The threat feels so much worse than mere complaints, but Viktor doesn't even want to touch it.

Shaking his head, Chris collapses onto the edge of his bed. “This is nonsense. It's just a costume. You'll make it later. Why are nerds so entitled about this crap?”

Viktor turns away.

“I'm serious,” Chris says, sitting back up to try and see Viktor's face as he tries to hide in plain sight. “It's not as if you do nothing all month long. They get tons of content, not just new costumes. They get first come, first serve dibs on commissions. They don't pay for a new costume every month, they pay for whatever art you make. If they don't like it, they can leave. Free market and all that crap.”

The adrenaline rush still throbs through Viktor's body, but he's calmed down enough to let out a quiet, “Ha...”

“You don't think that?”

“I think it's not what they think.”

Chris snorts. “Not your fault they're wrong. Nowhere in the contract does it say 'you get to tell me what to do.'”

Viktor almost counters, “Doesn't it?” before he quickly stops himself.

Technically... no.

Sure, there's polls to gauge where interest is leading when it comes to brand new work, and Viktor is often nice enough to allow others to have some input in what they'd like to see, but thousands of people aren't collectively his boss...

Right?

Except, no. No, that's exactly how he's been living this whole time.

When did it become like this? When did he start to feel like this was matter of fact? When did he start organizing his life to please as many people as possible just so he could keep a roof over his head? When did he only start to feel safe when he was actively playing pretend for strangers?

Except – he doesn't feel safe. Certainly not now. Maybe he never did. Maybe he's been lying to himself this whole time.

Across the room, he hears, “A penny for your thoughts? Because you look like you're full of them.”

“I just...” Viktor rakes a hand through his gross, sweaty hair. He needs a shower, badly. Get the grime from a long day pretending to be someone else off his skin. Only he swears that once he does, he still may not feel entirely clean. “I promised this costume. I did that. Because I thought they wanted it. Because I thought I wanted it.”

“Uh huh...?” For the second time this week, Viktor hears someone ask him, “What aren't you telling me?”

Saying this out loud for a second time isn't any easier, either. It's not less untrue, even as the words feel like rocks in his mouth. “I can't make it. It's officially in the garbage. It's not happening.”

In a careful tone, Chris reminds him, “You told them you would, though.”

“I know.”

“... Oh, dear.”

After a long day like this, all of the energy has been zapped from Viktor's body. He falls back onto the chair in the corner by his bed, just narrowly avoiding banging his head against the wall, though he doesn't really care. He covers his eyes with the back of his hand and tries his best to endure his pounding headache.

He knows Chris is staring at him, but what is there to even say at this point?

“I'll just make it,” he forces out.

“But you can't.”

“I have to.”

“Says who?”

“Me. Them. Everyone.”

“Not everyone,” Chris counters. “I saw some nice comments in there, too. They were a little buried, sure, but tons of people think it's okay it's being delayed. They'll probably be fine with it being cancelled if that's what you need to do. Who wants crap you can't put your whole heart into?”

Viktor flings his hand away from his face, sitting up fast enough he almost gets lightheaded from the rush. “And disappoint them, too? I'm on thin ice here, Chris. I don't know if you spend time on the internet, but one wrong move can cost you an entire career if you're not careful, and there's no guarantee you can rescue it.”

Chris curls his nose. “What, like some beauty influencer shit? Surely it's not that serious.”

“It could be! I don't want to find out, and neither do you.” Viktor tries to sit up straighter, but something in his back twinges with pain, and he's forced to let out a grunt and slide back down in his chair to a less uncomfortable position. “It really is that deep. You've seen their reactions. Everything's on me – if I can't keep them all happy all the time, who knows what'll happen. Besides the obvious. It's on me to make sure they get what they want without having to demand it of me.”

After he says those words, there's an uncomfortably long silence as Chris nearly gapes at him.

“Viktor...”

“Yes?”

“...Who exactly are you talking about?”

“My patrons,” Viktor says in a confused voice. Isn't that obvious?

Chris slowly shakes his head. “No. You know what you sound like right now?”

Dread begins to fill Viktor's belly like a sinking ship at sea. “What...?”

Chris pauses, something hesitant in his expression, but he steels itself once more as he apparently decides this has to be said out loud.

Quite naturally, it's the worst thing Viktor's heard in years.

“You sound like a twenty-something year old trying to please his abusive ex.”

If Chris says anything else after that, Viktor cannot hear it, because his ears are now ringing from the punch that's finally landed.

Chapter Text

Yuuri stares down at his phone, bracing himself.

It's just a phone call, he tells himself as he taps in a phone number he's dialed countless times his whole life.

He shouldn't feel nervous. This is good news. He knows the answer already, like it would ever be in question. If anything, he should be wondering if his parents are even still up at this hour. It's nearing 9 PM, but they've always been early to bed, early to rise, even when Yuuri was small. Maybe he should call in the morning instead...? Ah, but they'll be busy then, too...

Luckily, his mother picks up after a few rings. No more time to wonder whether or not he's being rude.

“Moshi moshi!” his mother answers, politely energetic despite the late hour.

“Hey,” Yuuri greets back. It's beyond ridiculous that his stomach is in knots. Is it nerves or excitement? Sometimes the two feel one and the same, often difficult to untangle until the moment has long passed. “Sorry to bother you before bed.”

“No need to apologize. It's not like you to call so late,” he hears his mother reply. “Is everything all right?”

“I'm fine. I just...” God, how to ask? Hey, can my boyfriend come over for the holidays? How do regular people do this? He sees people walk this life all the time, but it's whole other to be actually wearing these shoes. It's like wearing his first pair of heels – he keeps wobbling in place, threatening to topple over, when all he's trying to do is walk like everyone else. Despite living this more romantic life for the better part of the year now, not everything is quite broken in yet.

In many ways, he's really still quite behind everyone else.

“Yes?” his mom gently urges.

Yuuri bites the bullet. “Well, you know how you wanted to meet Viktor?”

“Yes,” his mother repeats, her tone more hopeful sounding this time.

Yuuri swallows. “Um. Is Christmas too soon?”

“This Christmas?”

“Yes,” Yuuri can't help but laugh, “this Christmas.”

He can practically hear his mother already fluttering about on the other end, as though there were anything to do about this now when the holiday is still a good month or so away. “Of course! There's always room for one more.” She pauses, making a thoughtful sound. “When is he coming? How long will he be staying? Will he be here for the New Year as well? I might have to make rearrangements if we're going to fit everyone.”

“I'll have to ask him,” Yuuri answers. “He might bring Makkachin too, if that's all right with you. I can't imagine he'd want to leave her for too long, and not for the holidays. She shouldn't take up too much room, though. And she's well behaved. She won't make a mess.”

Naturally, his mother sounds hardly concerned about any of that. “That's perfectly fine. Vicchan could use a friend to play with. Oh, before I forget, I promise her sweater will be done in time. I have all the yarn I need, I only need her measurements so it will fit properly. Will you be able to get those for me?”

Yuuri groans. “Okaasan...”

“I won't hear it! Every dog should have a cute sweater. Especially in the winter. It gets so cold and wet here.”

Poodles are made exactly for that, Yuuri almost points out, but he knows there's no sense in trying. “Hai. I'll get them to you.”

“Ah, please don't tell Viktor about it either,” his mother warns in a conspiratorial voice. “It's a surprise for them both. It'll be the perfect Christmas gift.”

“Birthday gift too, technically,” Yuuri jokes.

His mother gasps. “It's also his birthday? How romantic. A Christmas birthday. I'll have to make it extra special, then.”

“You really don't need to do that...”

“Nonsense. I must.” It's hard to argue when she sounds so pleased. Like this whole thing is her idea after all and not one Yuuri is asking permission for. Then again, she was the one to initially ask when she could meet him. “I'll talk to your father. We can work out the details another time. Let me know when Viktor plans to come up here as soon as you are able to, all right?”

“I will,” Yuuri promises. “Thank you. Have a good night.”

“You as well. Ja ne.”

Like that, the call is over. Yuuri wonders why he was worried in the first place.

Maybe it was excitement after all, he thinks to himself with a small smile. That'd be a first.

Only, the strange twist in his belly refuses to unwind into something more tolerable. A side effect of the past few days, he supposes. He's been trying not to think too hard all day long...

“How'd it go?” he hears all from the living room.

“As expected,” Yuuri answers, wandering over to the couch and collapsing onto the free end. Phichit sits on the other half, legs stretched out as he watches some drama show on TV. “We're good to go. I just need to actually figure out the logistics of getting Viktor and maybe Makkachin over here. But we can work that all out later.”

“That shouldn't be too hard. Is he going to be here for our New Years party?”

“I'll have to ask. I'm sure he'd be okay with that.”

With a smirk, Phichit replies, “I'll say. More time to spend with you.”

Yuuri feels his cheeks warm. “He'll hang out with you guys, too.”

“Oh, I know. He has no choice. I barely saw him last time!” Phichit rubs his hands together. “We need to get him nice and drunk with us. I want to see what kind of party animal he can be. I feel like he'll be tons of fun without the inhibitions blocking him...”

“I don't know about that...”

Phichit flaps his hand. “That's fine. I know. And in this case, that's all we need.”

Yuuri makes an uncertain face, but he doesn't have too long to ponder the implications of both him and Viktor drunk in the same room as a whole group of shameless nerds when his phone lights up with a sudden phone call. At first he thinks his mother is calling back – likely with an important question she only thought of when she walked away from their brief conversation – but Yuuri's stomach clenches painfully when he realizes it's not her.

Almost like his anxiety knew this night wasn't yet over.

The caller ID reads:

Christophe Giacometti.

They'd exchanged numbers a short while ago – mostly in case anything happened while they were out wandering the forest in full cosplay – but they never had to use them. Yuuri forgot entirely that he even had Chris' number to begin with.

“Why is Chris calling me?” Yuuri asks out loud.

Next to him, Phichit visibly tenses, but he says nothing as he goes back to staring at the TV.

Whatever it is, it has to be important, so Yuuri wastes no time picking up.

“Hello?”

He doesn't receive an answer right away. There's muffled noise in the background of wherever the caller is, two voices arguing vehemently against each other, but Yuuri can't really make out the words. Which is why he's surprised when the voice that does answer sounds deceptively calm and collected.

“Hello, my dear,” Chris finally says on the other end. Yuuri would recognize that flirting lilt anywhere. “I'm sorry to call you at this hour, but I'm afraid your boyfriend is in another crisis and he refuses to listen to me.”

The laid back way he's informed of this has Yuuri all at once gripping his phone while letting out an unprepared, “Huh?”

Chris is back to talking to someone – Viktor, of course – in the background. This time, Yuuri does hear what he's saying. “Take the phone, or so help me.”

There's more back and forth. After an uncomfortably long moment, Yuuri hears the phone swap hands. There's a distinct pause as the person on the other end tries to collect themselves as well, but they sound nowhere hear as composed as Chris does once they speak.

“Ah... h-hello.”

His voice should bring a sense of calm over Yuuri, except considering the circumstances, it does anything but. It takes effort to keep himself from rushing out his response. “Viktor? What's going on?”

“Nothing!” Viktor replies. He sounds oddly energetic, though more manic than genuine enthusiastic. “Nothing of the sort!”

“Oh, my God,” Chris swears loudly in the background. “Don't make me make this call a three-way! You won't like me in a three-way!”

That seems to scare Viktor enough into taking this more seriously. He utters, “One second. Excuse me.” A moment later, Yuuri thinks he hears a door closing. When Viktor speaks again, his voice echoes faintly, like he's shut himself inside a box. The bathroom? There's no way Viktor's in the closet right now.

(Oh, well, actually...)

“Okay,” Viktor breathes. “We have some privacy now.”

Yuuri repeats himself, no more calmer than before. “What's going on?”

He receives a flippant, “Oh, you know. The usual.”

Yuuri hates that such a statement could mean just about anything, but if Chris' frustration is anything to go by, it can't be good. He knows how Viktor gets when it comes to things like this, and he's not in the mood to play around either. “Please elaborate.”

“Are you sitting for this one?”

“Yes?”

“I think I need to quit my job. Immediately.”

Yuuri nods. With a flat tone, he responds, “I see. One moment.”

Phichit raises his brow as Yuuri wordlessly gets up from his seat. Yuuri does nothing more than give a little wave 'good night' as he slowly wanders back to his bedroom. Once the door is firmly closed behind him, Yuuri leans back against it, needing its firm structure to hold him up for this one.

It'd be so easy to give into the panic-inducing comment. His instincts are practically begging for it. Spiral out of control, let the chaos of it all whirl them into something they'll have a hard time crawling out of later. But Yuuri hears things like this all the time from people with lives far more internally stable than his. I need to quit! I can't do this! It's too much! Whether it's over work, a relationship, a goddamn costume, he's heard and seen it all. The average person has a threshold that, once crossed, can be hard to climb back down because they're so unused to being that high up. Yuuri can't relate. At least, not in a way they could understand. His mind may spiral over his own life on a regular occurrence, but when it's someone else's hurricane, it may as well just be a windy day.

That's why it's so much easier for Yuuri to latch onto Viktor's chaos rather than his own, catch his own breath, fight the rising nausea, and keep going as if there was never any trouble walking forward at all.

There's always time to vomit later, after all.

“Okay,” he starts, his voice deceptively calm. Because if anyone is going to get them through this, apparently it's going to be him. If Phichit can do it for him on the fly, then surely he can handle this, too. “Why are we thinking about quitting?”

“I've made a huge mistake.”

“Such as?”

“I – oh, God. I just can't. It's humiliating. I don't even want to believe it.” Viktor's breath comes out short and ragged. Hopefully not panic attack levels of concern, but it makes Yuuri's hair rise on end to hear nonetheless.

Steadily, Yuuri keeps trying. “What is?”

“I – I was talking to Chris, about the post, right? And, oh, my God. I can't believe I've never realized, but it's so obvious. I've replaced my ex with my job.” He laughs like he's about to lose his mind. “I'm such an idiot. I thought I was free. All I did was trap myself again. It's the fucking same.”

Yuuri sits – well, stands – with the answer for a hot minute, trying to figure out where exactly the ex comes into all of this. He's avoided looking at that post ever since he read it the first time, refusing to let himself be angry about assholes on the internet. His nerves have already been buzzing all day just trying not to think about it – looking at it would be worse, but now he's wondering if he should have been more vigilant solely so he could be better prepared for this moment. There's no way the response was positive, not if Viktor's freaking out in a bathroom at a convention hours from home. Did a certain someone somehow comment, or is there more he's missing?

“Start from the beginning,” he says.

It takes a little more prodding, Viktor resistant at first to delve any deeper, but he gradually explains himself and the day – week – he's had.

By the end, Yuuri's sitting on the floor, wishing he were several states over so he could hold Viktor right now.

“... And now I'm here and I don't know what to do,” Viktor finishes. “I'm so stupid. All I did was swap one controlling asshole for a whole group of them. And I never even saw it coming.”

“They're not all assholes,” Yuuri tries to point out, like that really helps anything. Only some of the apples in the basket are poisoned and are indistinguishable from the rest, good luck finding the safe ones!

“Enough of them. Too many of them. I know you said you haven't looked, but... I can't even look. Not again.”

Viktor's words make the decision for him. “One second.”

“Yuuri, don't – ”

Too late. He's felt enough of the heat to worry about the fire being contained behind the door. It's reckless, but Yuuri pulls his phone away to take a quick look at hell. The scrolling feels endless, like falling through all seven layers of hell. By the time he forces himself to stop, still nowhere near the bottom, he's hot all over from his own anger burning in his veins.

Calling them “assholes” is too lenient. But it's sadly not at all surprising, not with the things Yuuri's heard others say to his face and behind his back over the years.

Under a tightly controlled tone, Yuuri comes back to the call with, “That's... a lot.”

Viktor sounds defeated. “I didn't want you to see those things. It's one thing to shit talk me, I don't care what they say about me, but the things about you...”

Yuuri's not certain he believes such a statement completely, not when Viktor's livelihood depends so strongly on how others perceive him, but now's not the time for that conversation. “Too late. I don't care what they say about me. I've heard way worse. These types aren't shy about their hate in person, either.” He says this, but he can feel the stress headache coming on. The guilt edges alongside it, razor sharp in his ears as it whispers to him, this is all your fault. If you'd kept your distance, hidden this a little longer, he wouldn't have to be dealing with this right now. You're making it worse for him, all because you selfishly couldn't keep your distance.

It's all bullshit. But it feels right, and that's all Yuuri's anxiety warped mind cares about.

Yuuri slides his glasses off and rubs at his eyes, giving himself a moment. As hard as it is, he refuses to be distracted right now, not when Viktor can barely holding it together on the other end. Breathe. It can always be worse. Let's not find out how. It takes a lot to wrestle his common sense from how easy and “true” the distortion feels to his nerves, but he manages, for Viktor's sake.

With a deep breath, Yuuri forces himself through. “Okay. I'm taking over.”

“What?”

“You heard me. I'm a master of dealing with hate comments. Can you access your Patreon on your phone?”

“Yes?”

“Good. Disable the comments. Immediately.”

“What – ”

“It won't delete anything,” Yuuri warns, “but it'll shut up anyone new who wants to add fuel to the fire in there. There's too many people in there arguing back and forth, and I know half of them mean well and are trying to defend us, but it's only making it worse. It's drawing too much attention.”

He refuses to say it out loud, but he knows there's no way this is staying on the Patreon post. Infighting like this always leaks out, like poisonous gas that can find the smallest cracks in the foundation, and it will spread everywhere it can reach – which is always so much farther than one can often deal with. It's bad enough they'll likely encounter this crap in the wild now, but either way, they need to lock this down at the source now.

Viktor sounds so small when he asks, “People are defending me in there?”

Yuuri squeezes his eyes shut. “Don't check. Please just take my word for it. I'm sure Chris can also confirm for you if you don't fully believe me.”

“No, I... I believe you. Just... surprised is all.”

That, among everything else, angers Yuuri all the more. That it could ever be surprising someone would stand up for Viktor in any scenario where he's done absolutely nothing wrong. Even if he had made a mistake somewhere, does he deserve to be cast aside and publicly flogged for it?

He has to focus.

“You really want to quit?” he asks.

The silence is too long, leaving Yuuri to worry Viktor is trying to find a diplomatic way of answering that won't scare them both. However, Yuuri's surprised when Viktor eventually answers, “No. But what else can I do? I can't live like this anymore. I've barely been able to scrape myself together as of late. The money's good, but – I feel so lost.”

It's selfish, and yet Yuuri can't help but allow himself a silent, relieved sigh. A world without Viktor creating and expressing himself just doesn't make any sense. He has no doubt Viktor could figure out a new life for himself if he wants it, with or without the very thing that brought them together, but he can feel how much Viktor doesn't want to let this go, even if he's not confident in his ability to keep going right now.

Okay. Battle plan.

“Here's what we're going to do,” Yuuri calmly explains, even as the hand holding his phone trembles. “Don't make any hard decisions tonight. You're working right now. Disable the comments, ignore your phone, and focus on getting through the rest of the convention. This is your last convention for the year, right?”

“Yeah. Probably for the best. I'm only one day in and I'm beyond drained. I brought Nightwing for tomorrow but I'm not even sure I can make myself wear it. Thank God I'm not guesting here or else it would real look bad.”

Yuuri would never judge that. How many times has he dipped out of a cosplay because his head couldn't allow for any fun or whimsy? He can only imagine how bad the the stress while grappling with everything else all at once, let alone working. “It's only two more days. One and a half, technically. Do whatever you need to get through them. Then you'll be free to go home and decide what you want to do.” Yuuri pauses. “Unless you want to call it quits now and go home tomorrow? Because if you need to...”

“I thought about it,” Viktor admits, sounding as guilt-ridden about it as Yuuri would expect, “but I only just covered the table and half of the hotel room. I need to make it through the weekend to make any profit, or else I'm out time and money for no good reason.” He groans. “And there I go again. Money over literally anything else. But I can't make myself stop. It feels like if I do, I'll just keel over and die.”

“I know.” Yuuri hugs his knees to his chest with his free arm, so that at least he can hold something. “But it's how you've survived so far. You've always pushed yourself harder than anyone else.”

Viktor grumbles, “Not you, too...”

“Am I wrong?”

“I wish you were.” More forcefully, he asks, “Is it really my fault it got this bad? What else was I supposed to do? It was keep going or never get up back up again. I've already – I can't be there again. Weak and helpless.” His voice cracks, but he keeps speaking anyway, painful as the words are. “I don't want to be there ever again.”

Yuuri's breath catches in his chest.

A hundred memories of himself, staring at homework, tests, exams, of getting up and out of bed and working towards something he wasn't sure he even wanted but knew he needed regardless, flash in his head. A hundred more of all the times he did go after something he desired, only to be lost at his desk, staring failure straight in the face as he undoes hours of work he's unsure he can make another attempt at, because he got brave enough to tackle a mountain he could not yet climb.

But every one of those times, his mother was there at his door. Asking if he wanted a snack or something to drink. Some comfort in his belly when his head felt too much again. Phichit was there, laughing as he showed him a picture of his own latest cosplay fuck up, commiserating over difficult techniques they felt ambitious enough to try but realized they needed more practice to reach a satisfactory stage with. When he needed to give up entirely, his friends never judged him. Instead they had drinks and pizza and late night gaming parties to remind him there was something else out there for him, a reason to keep trying at whatever his heart so desired. Life. Love. Laughter. Just because he failed this time didn't mean he'd never win again. Just because he would inevitably fail again in the future didn't mean his life was over.

He has no idea what it's like to do so, failure or not, with nothing else left to stand on.

He wishes, deeply, that Viktor never had to know what that was like, either.

He says as much, in a voice almost too heavy to bear.

“Please don't,” Viktor answers, barely audible. “I don't want to hear those things. I can't change any of that now. What am I supposed to do? I know I have you and Chris and Makka, but... And it's not that it's not enough, you're all more than I could ever ask or dream for, but I don't want to be a burden again.”

“You won't be. You aren't. Are you listening to me?”

Viktor doesn't reply.

Yuuri carries on anyway.

“You're going to take the rest of your costume off,” he gently orders, “and you're going to take a shower. Hot or cold, doesn't matter, whatever feels good. And then I want you to get into your pajamas and try to eat your dinner.”

He can picture the curl of Viktor's nose as his boyfriend mumbles, “It's definitely cold now.”

“Does your hotel room have a microwave?” Yuuri asks, knowing full well the answer.

“... Fine,” Viktor sighs. “I'll try. But I make no promises about anything other than the shower.”

“Sleeping nude with Chris in the room, huh?”

“Huh – what?”

“Teasing.” Guess now isn't the time for any jokes. It was worth a try. “I'll be here when you're done. In the meantime, can you put Chris back on the phone?”

“Why?”

“Just want to talk to him a little bit. Nothing bad, I promise.”

“Okay...” Viktor hesitates. “You'll be here when I'm done?”

“Right where you left me,” Yuuri answers.

Viktor doesn't reply. Yuuri almost wonders if Viktor heard him, but before he has the chance to ask, the phone has swapped hands again, and a different voice greets him.

“Hello again,” Chris says. “I promise he's taking a shower. Or at least the water is going. I guess time will tell.”

“So long as he gets the costume off,” Yuuri says. “So... tell me. As the only other person there. How bad does this look right now?”

After a pause, Chris sighs aloud.

“It's pretty bad. If I'm being honest, I think this has been building for a while now. He had some asshole bother him today, which is whatever, he's normally good about handling customer service crap, but then seeing all of that other horseshit just put him over the edge. I'm sure he won't say it, but I think he's scared this won't stay online.”

Yuuri slumps back against the door, closing his eyes. He understands this part too well. Now that Viktor's gone for the moment, the wave of nausea in his belly decides it's a great time to become more turbulent. He reminds himself: if it feels this scary for him, then how does Viktor feel in this moment? He has to hold it together for them both, even if that feels impossible sometimes. “I got the impression. I hate to say it, but that's not an unwarranted fear. Even if no one physically does anything, it's already getting bad. This isn't something we can ignore.”

“I hate to say it, but you're right.” He can practically hear the shrug on the other end. Not a careless one, but certainly a gesture towards feeling at a loss. “Still, it could be worse. I've seen it be worse. At least he agreed to take a shower. There was a time long ago where that probably would have been an argument.”

“Yeah,” Yuuri vaguely agrees, “but just because he's functioning doesn't mean he's okay.”

“Oh, absolutely. That's not what I meant. I'd say I can't tell you what tomorrow is going to look like, but I think we both know exactly what he'll do. He's going to come out of that shower, act like nothing's wrong, and then get overwhelmed at some other point in the near future over the same shit. Rinse and repeat.”

Damn it. Why can't Chris be wrong?

“Maybe,” Yuuri says. “I told him no hard decisions until he's home. The last thing he needs is to make a choice he might regret later.” He sucks in a deep breath. “Take it from me. Making impulsive decisions when you're panicking is just another way of sabotaging yourself.”

Chris snorts. “I'm sorry to say he's likely already made his decision, whether we like it or not. The only way anyone could stop him from carrying on as if nothing's wrong is if we chop his limbs off, and even then he'd find a way. I don't think he knows how to stop. I'm not even sure he wants to try.”

The corner of Yuuri's lips quirks. “Too bad I'm all the way over here.”

“A sad fact of life. If you were here, you could sit on him, thus forcing him to stay still for a fucking second. But let's be real here, he'd probably enjoy that a little too much.”

“You're there,” Yuuri points out.

“I'm not sitting on him. The days of play-fighting him are way in the past. You can have that job.” Chris hums. “Although, perhaps if I give Makkachin enough treats...”

Yeah, try as they may, this really is a hard time to have any sort of laugh. “We have to do something.”

“I know. But I'm not sure there's anything we can do. It's his life. He has to figure out what he wants – and what he doesn't want.”

Wait... does he know? Or suspect? Yuuri's throat goes dry. “Has he told you anything?”

Chris replies with an exasperated, “Hell no. Why would he ever do that?” With a more merciful tone, he says, “He told me there's things he's struggling with right now, but as to what those things are, I have no clue. And I'm not guessing, either. He can tell me when he's ready, but until then, I'm not wasting my time. Been there, done that already. We have one stressed out nerd here, we don't need more.”

“I see.”

Chris pauses. “But you know.”

Yuuri tenses. “It's not for me to say.”

“Not what I was getting at. Relax, dear. I'm not prying. What I am saying is do what you can from over there, and I'll do what I can over here.” With a humourless laugh, Chris jokes, “Who knows, between my half and yours, we could make a whole ass attempt at preventing him from going completely off the deep end.”

“You think?”

“Sure. What else could go wrong?”

What a dangerous thing to utter aloud. “Ah... well...”

“Only teasing. We'll be fine, one way or another. This isn't my first rodeo. You get used to this at some point – oh. I think I just heard the showerhead shut off. He should be finishing up in there.”

Just the mention of Viktor returning has the armour sliding back on, heavy as before, maybe even heavier with what he knows now, but ever still as necessary. “Good. I'll take over.”

“All right. Don't tire yourself out.”

Yuuri replies, “You, too. I know it's a lot, but...”

“If it was really a problem, I wouldn't be here. Anyway, I'm stealing my phone back. You two lovebirds will have to chat on yours.”

“No three-way call?”

“Not in this scenario,” Chris huffs, right before transitioning into a too cheery, “Viktor, darling, we were just talking about you!”

“Not funny,” Yuuri hears Viktor groan in the background.

“It will be later. Anyway, hanging up now. You know what to do.”

The line goes dead. Yuuri sits with the silence for a moment, his room far too quiet for how loud his head is right now. It's strange how strong the reverberations of someone else's explosive day can still ring miles away.

With a deep breath, he pulls up Viktor's name in his contact list and hits call.

“Hi,” Viktor's lifeless voice answers on the other end.

“Hey. How're you feeling?”

“Clean.”

“Ready to eat?”

Viktor grumbles.

“For me?”

“Fiiiiine... But just the rice. I don't think I can handle anything else right now.”

Yuuri smiles. “Any food is good.”

It's hard to say whether or not the night gets any better. They talk – about anything other than the roaring elephant in the room – but there's only so much these minor distractions can do to ease the growing tension. Deeply aware of how hard they're treading water with exhausted limbs, Yuuri does his best to do the only thing you can do when someone's lost at sea, waiting for the first person to throw them a lifeline: rush to them as fast as you can, anyway you can.

At least Viktor's still kicking his legs, waiting.

Chapter Text

When Viktor wakes the next morning, it's with a pounding headache.

He didn't dream at all last night – at least nothing, that he recalls – but the corners of his eyes feel dry and crusty from what he can only guess are from old tears he shed in his sleep. They're almost hard to open, but he does so, grimacing as he scrubs at his face with the back of his hand.

When he glances over at the other bed in the room, Chris is still lost in his own dreams. Rolled over so that his back is to Viktor. The soft sound of him breathing can be faintly heard, deep and steady as only a happily unconscious person can be.

Viktor stares at him, jealous as the night is long, and then forces himself to check his phone to see how bad the damage is. No alarm woke him this morning. Did they sleep in, or worse, did he wake up too early?

He scowls.

It's fucking 4 AM.

Viktor groans. No wonder he feels like he barely slept. He was up until around midnight, hours past his usual bedtime routine talking to Yuuri. They cut the phone call itself around 10 PM last night so that Chris could hit the hay without any disruption, but Viktor found himself texting long into the night, unable to bring himself to let the silence swallow him whole. They talked about nothing, the words themselves relatively empty, simply filling the distance between them, but the desperate feeling behind them kept Viktor coming back for more. If only so he didn't have to think.

Unable to fall back asleep for the remaining few hours he has until he must rise, he goes to scroll through their text conversation with fresh eyes, desperate for any comfort even if it's hours old and gone stale, but he's surprised when he stumbles across a brand new message waiting for him at the bottom that he doesn't recall seeing before he inevitably drifted off.

❤ Sweetheart ❤:

I forgot to tell you earlier, but I called my mother tonight. She's more than happy for you to come up over the holidays. We just need to know when you're coming and for how long so we can properly plan for everything. Mom's hoping you stay at least until New Years Eve. I actually think she might be sad if you don't stay for our annual party lol

But it's up to you. I know you have a busy schedule. No one will be mad if you have to dip out early

Ah, I... might also need Makkachin's measurements, though. For no reason at all.

Viktor stares at it, too stunned to fully process the sudden warmth in his chest. He knew about the potential Christmas invite, but to stay for that long? Would that really be okay? He does have a demanding schedule –

Millions of ungrateful comments silently scream in his head, demanding more, more, more.

An older Viktor would have caved instantly to the pressure, afraid to lose everything chained to the demands.

Today's embittered Viktor thinks, Fuck it, fuck YOU, rebellion striking in his heart like the slash of a fierce sword. He'll make it be okay. Why can't he enjoy the holidays for once? Everyone else gets to. It's his turn, damn it.

He texts back:

Viktor:

I'd come now if I could. But whenever is best for your family is fine with me. I'll stay however long you'll have me <3

Why do you need Makkachin's measurements?

He goes to set his phone back on the mini nightstand in between their beds when his screen lights up with an immediate response. Stunned, Viktor pulls his phone back towards him. Surely Yuuri's not still up...

Yup. He is.

This morning is just full of surprises.

Actually, no, what is he thinking. He's not surprised at all.

❤ Sweetheart ❤:

No reason at all.

But please give them to me immediately

Despite the heavy weight that refuses to leave Viktor's chest these days, he can't help but smile.

Viktor:

Not suspicious at all, but all right, keep your secrets

❤ Sweetheart ❤:

Thanks, Frodo

Viktor:

Ha. Nerd. <3

May I ask why you're still up?

Or did you also only sleep for a few hours, too

Several dots danced along the bottom right for a while before Yuuri's answer finally arrives.

❤ Sweetheart ❤:

Didn't sleep a wink, tbh. Felt too sick to try

But it's Saturday so it doesn't matter. I don't have to do anything today. I'll nap later

The second Yuuri mentions feeling sick, Viktor clues in immediately.

Shit. It's his fault Yuuri had a bad night. Yuuri worries easily, of course he would be up late stressing over everything out of their control. Part of Viktor regrets saying anything at all – another part knows if he'd never said anything, Yuuri would have only felt worse later. Viktor's hidden enough from him already.

There's really no winning, is there?

Viktor:

I'm sorry. That's probably my fault

You should try and sleep now if you can. If you're still feeling ill, sleep will help

❤ Sweetheart ❤:

It's sure as hell not your fault. Don't take responsibility for someone else's awful behaviour

Aren't you feeling crappy? Did YOU sleep?

Viktor:

A little. I tried. Honestly.

❤ Sweetheart ❤:

Good

I also tried, I promise. Just too many thoughts in my head, even with the meds. Kinda felt like my brain was spinning all night

Viktor:

Ha. I feel that...

I think... I cried in my sleep? Or something. I dunno. My head's pounding like I did.

❤ Sweetheart ❤:

Oh, Vicchan... : (

Viktor:

I'm okay. I promise

Today's a new day and I'll get through it

❤ Sweetheart ❤:

We'll get through it <3

Just remember what I said last night

Viktor:

Comments are already disabled. I'm not checking anything. Chris already agreed to hold onto my phone for me so I can't give into temptation. So... I might not be easily reachable for a while today, but if you need me call or text him. I'll get back to you ASAP

❤ Sweetheart ❤:

I will

You just look after yourself today and worry about getting through the weekend

Everything else can be dealt with after

Viktor:

Right

I'm going to try and rest some more before I have to get up

You sleep as well, okay?

❤ Sweetheart ❤:

Haaaaa, yes dear

God, he's so cute. Viktor's chest bubbles with the first positive feeling he's had in days, so light and airy it almost makes the weariness of his heavy head bearable.

Smiling, he starts typing without thinking – and it's only when his eyes see those three words naturally escaping him that he instantly erases them before he can embarrass himself at this hour of the morning. Now is certainly not the time for that. He's not sure he could handle that level of rejection if the feeling isn't mutual...

It feels false – even if the words are technically true – but he comes up with something else to say.

Viktor:

I'll talk to you later

Have a good day, sweetheart

Sometimes he wonders if he's the only one holding those kinds of words back, because Yuuri wordlessly replies back with:

❤ Sweetheart ❤:

<3 <3 <3

-

Somehow, he makes it through the weekend.

Maybe not unscathed, not entirely, but he does. There aren't any more incidents. Nothing of note. No jump scares to try and force Viktor back into another corner. That one kid doesn't come back to his table for a second round. By all appearances, the rest of the weekend may as well take place at a different con for how different the vibes are on the second and last days.

For that reason, it almost feels unreal. Like Friday didn't even happen.

Viktor knows better. His phone burns a hole in Chris' pocket, too hot for either of them to touch.

They make back the money they need halfway through Saturday to pay off the rest of the hotel, and the remainder of the weekend is pure profit. More than enough to justify the trip. It's even better than last year, convincing him it would be a good investment to continue applying for this convention in the future. That fact alone should make Viktor smile. It used to. A part of him can recall the feeling, far away as it seems right now. But he wonders how true those smiles were back then, or if they were only from the temporary relief of delaying what appears to be the inevitable?

It's something he has to think about, given everything.

He doesn't want to.

There's too much to think about, and no one can do it for him.

“Shitty as the first day was,” Chris comments on the long drive home, “this trip was more or less worth it. People were even taking my business card for once.”

The corner of Viktor's mouth lifts. His eyes don't leave the long, seemingly endless stretch of road. God, he's so stiff and sore, but he has to keep driving. He refuses to let Chris take over, not again. “That's great. I bet you'll get tons of requests soon.”

“Maybe not tons, but a handful more would be great. You never know.” Chris sighs. “People take business cards all the time and forget where they shove them, so who knows if they'll remember me.”

Viktor frowns. “Don't talk yourself down. Your work is beautiful. The best out of anyone out there. Everyone would be lucky to have you photograph them. I've only gotten as far as I have because you were there helping me look as good as I do.”

“I don't know about that... You look good in any photos. Editing can only do so much, not without becoming a complete lie.”

“Sometimes editing is everything,” Viktor challenges. “Not to mention your eye for posing and lighting. You're an artist, too. Even if not everyone understands that.”

He can see Chris looking at him out of the corner of his eye, a strange look on his face, but Viktor's eyes are locked forward, his hands gripping his steering wheel like he's afraid to let go.

Home is closer than he's ready for.

-

Much to the frustration of Chris, who constantly tells Viktor how much he should take a break from this world even when his life isn't on fire, Viktor still tries to settle back into his normal routine.

Except, it appears his “normal” life won't let him settle, either.

The comments are firmly disabled on the initial Patron post that exploded only days ago, dousing much of the wildfire before it can continue to spread recklessly, but when Viktor attempts to make new posts with open spots for prop commissions, the same anger flares up like it's been waiting for a gasp of air to reignite it. Many of the people from before, strangely emboldened by Viktor's careful silence, try again and again to get his attention.

They demand an answer.

Viktor knows it's not an explanation they truly want, but penance for a perceived betrayal.

It's all the same words from before, the same indignation and entitlement. Before long, it becomes so expected, Viktor's no longer surprised when it happens, although he's no less sick to his stomach witnessing it happen in real time.

Try as he may, it really does feel like he's back in that time. Needing to please the unpleasable because there's no other way to have any peace in his life. But even bowing to the demands of another can't give him peace, because there's no way he can ever bow low enough, not for anyone miserable enough to stomp their foot on his back and shove him down into the ground. He learned that lesson once and has been stuck trying to rip those deeply embedded urges from out of his veins.

There is a deceptively simple solution to this. But it's one with consequences he's unsure he's ready for.

He hesitates.

Like they know, these people remain relentless. A week of this goes by in a terrible haze. Even when Viktor disables the comments on his newest posts, informing any inquirers to seek him out in DMs instead, they naturally flood that gate as well. Viktor does his best to ignore them like normal to try and find the genuine interest in his work, but it's like finding a real piece of straw in a mountain of biting needles. Each glance at every new message sent in pricks him until he's covered in a million bleeding holes.

Several more days of this pass, culminating with Viktor ill and hugging the toilet bowl from the intense stress in his belly, before even he understands he cannot handle it anymore, not even if he wants to. It's poison in his bloodstream, and the only way out is to suck it all out and spit it far, far away from him.

He knows this – even if he can't physically make himself do it. The thought of shutting out that many people, chipping away at his own income, even as it makes him sick...

But he knows someone who urgently wants to.

He can do this much at least, all while he's internally screaming at himself: What are you doing?!

Once he's calmed down enough to accept the decision he has to stand on, he makes one more post, the comments disabled as per his new “normal,” and then he makes the phone call.

The second his boyfriend answers his phone, Viktor says the only thing he needs to.

“Block them.”

“Are you sure?” Yuuri asks. Hesitation's in his voice, but certainly not because he disagrees with the request.

“No,” Viktor answers honestly, “but I know if I try to do it myself... I won't go through with it. I'll back out. It's so much money to lose all at once. Just thinking about it makes me want to vomit all over again.”

“Don't worry,” Yuuri says, as though there's an option not to, “I've got this.”

Once the matter is settled, Yuuri gets Viktor's password over the call and begins the long process of combing through every DM that glaringly crosses any line they'd laid out in the sand in recent days. They stay on call the whole time, neither of them saying much. Yuuri refuses to give any unnecessary details. It's a long hour or so it takes before he finally says, “Okay. We're done. For now, anyway. I think I got everybody.”

It should feel like relief. Instead, Viktor feels like a complete bastard. Like he's the one in the wrong. Too cowardly to shut the door in these “fans” faces himself...

But it had to be shut, even if it wasn't by his own hand.

“Thank you,” he says, without any of the energy needed to make it sound as grateful as he should sound.

“Anytime. If anyone else tries anything, let me know.”

Viktor forces himself to say, “Or I could do it myself next time.”

“Whatever you want,” Yuuri answers. “Doesn't matter who does it, just that it's done.”

Viktor hopes that's true, although a part of him suspects it's not entirely true.

At the end of their call, Yuuri reassures him with, “Don't think about it too much. I know that sounds funny coming from me, but...”

“It does sound funny coming from you,” Viktor confirms with a half-smile.

“Ha, haaaa... Yeah. Anyway, you've cut the worst of them off. Phichit's always telling me when you kick shitty things or people to the curb, you're making more room for good things. I think that's true, even if it doesn't feel like it right away.”

Viktor hums. “Yeah... Sounds true.”

It'll be a long while before his body catches up to the concept. But he hopes it does.

-

His Patreon is a lot quieter after that day. A few slip by, undisturbed by Viktor's last warning post, but they're quickly taken care of afterwards. By Viktor this time. The thought of blocking a handful rather than the hundred or so is far less daunting. He did warn them, after all. Even if making it happen makes Viktor want to spill his guts out.

-

Nike Cosplay:

This is my final warning.

Anyone who harasses me, my partner, or anyone associated with us will be blocked and forced off of this page.

No exceptions.

That is all.

-

It's a little easier to get more work done after that, even if Viktor can't help but tense up when he checks his DMs. Perhaps it's too late though, because it's now gotten to a point where Viktor struggles to focus on the last of his commissions. What was a desperate adrenaline run in the beginning has evidently ran out of steam, leaving Viktor so tired he finds himself waking up later and later in the day. His mornings pass him by in a way that they haven't in a long time. The realization makes his blood turn to ice – but what can he do, if he's unintentionally sleeping through alarms?

The last time he slept like that... he felt barely human. Just an aching, exposed nerve hiding under blankets as if they'll shield him from even the barest of brushes with the world.

Normally Makkachin wakes him up early enough to go outside and have her breakfast, but even Chris is conspiring against him on this one.

“If you're sleeping in for once, then you clearly need it,” Chris defends himself one morning. “It's no skin off my back taking care of her. I already have to feed one food machine, what's another?”

As if in agreement, a little, fluffy white Marie mewls by her empty food bowl, demanding a refill despite breakfast not being far behind.

Beside the small kitty, Makkachin paws at her bowl, clinking it endlessly against the tile of the kitchen floor.

The sound nearly gives Viktor a headache.

How is he sleeping this much, and yet so, so tired?

“I don't want to sleep in,” Viktor argues back. It's so petulant sounding, but he can't help it. It's already late morning, nearly noon time, and he's only been awake for an nearly half an hour. He's wasted his day already! It's time he'll never get back! This much sleep can't be good for him. His eyes are dry, brain foggy, skin sticky from sweat. He has no idea what he's dreaming these days, if he is at all, but whatever it is, it's leaving him an absolute mess of fear and adrenaline when he snaps awake at these late hours of the day.

Unbothered, Chris simply replies, “Too bad. Rest is good for you. You've been working nonstop for years. You probably need it more than most people.”

“But...”

“Taking a real break is different from being depressed,” Chris reminds him, as though there could ever be a difference between the two. “Are you lying in bed because you can't get up, or because you don't want to?”

Viktor doesn't know. And not knowing scares him almost as much as the hundreds of faceless people who want all of his blood, sweat, and tears for a brief moment of entertainment.

God, why does everything have to be so much all the fucking time?

Taking a good look at him, Chris suggests, “Talk it over with your therapist.”

There's no point in even looking up for this one. “I know what they'll say.”

Chris rolls his eyes. “Fine. Save the hundred bucks or whatever and just listen to someone else's advice for once.”

“But...”

“No more buts. You know what I'll say.”

Viktor does. Do you want to live like this forever?

He doesn't.

He can't. Not even if he wants to.

With each day that passes, he feels more and more certain about it. The way he's always lived is surely coming to an end, with a terrible death rattle begging for the start of something new to give it enough hope so that it may finally pass on and let something else take over.

But taking the first step off the beaten path into certain sticks and rocks and thorns is always scarier than following the same foot steps beaten into the ground, even if those steps were leading him straight to the sharp drop of a cliff.

-

His next session, they don't talk about it at all. Not in any great depth, anyway.

Mostly because Viktor can't stop openly weeping.

He loses count of how many tissues he tugs out of the flimsy cardboard box offered to him. There never seems to be enough.

-

By early December, the last of his commissioned props are finished.

Viktor doesn't bother make another post offering more slots.

He wants to say it's because he's finally taking the break everyone keeps telling to have, but honestly, it's more so because of the season itself. With winter finally here and the holidays quickly approaching, most people are saving their dollars for gifts and travel. Although there are still the odd convention running, the majority of them are done for the year, and thus demand for such luxuries tend to die off until the holidays have fully passed.

In a way, it's an unintentional break. Like being told by hundreds of bosses at once, “We don't need you right now. Go do something else and come back when we're ready for you.” Not the greatest feeling. This time of year used to stress Viktor out a lot more when he was first relying on being self-employed, but he's used to the lull in demand this time of year, so the old stress of the needs of business compiled with the new stress of trying to be something, someone, he's not anymore feels like more of the same at the moment.

Of course, he still has other obligations to fulfill. Mailing out brand new prints and other Patreon rewards, working on more behind the scenes projects, figuring out the future trajection of his career... He always found a way to fill the lull in demand with ways to buffer his workload for the upcoming year. This year isn't any different – or, at the very least, he doesn't want it to be. He can't waste time when the future feels so uncertain.

At least he's able to do the first thing on that list. It's easy to order in new prints and package them up. The methodicalness of the whole process is almost calming because he doesn't have to wonder what to do next, even if the sight of himself on each sheet makes him want to rip them all to shreds.

Before long, the rewards at the start of the month are all mailed out... and then...

-

A week or two into December, Viktor is still ignoring the mess at the corner of his projects.

Everything else will have to wait.

But what to do in the meantime?

-

“Hey,” Chris asks over his shoulder one evening, while in the midst of cooking dinner. “Mom wants to know if you're coming over again this year for Christmas. Some cousins are asking to come up this year, so she's trying to organize everything ahead of time.”

Viktor snaps out of his daze, suddenly remembering where he is and what he's doing. How long has he been trying to cut these carrots for their salad? There's hardly anything on the cutting board. Viktor shakes his head, as if that will help dispel the fog from his head. It takes him a second to recall his plans. “Actually, I'm not going to be here this year.”

Chris' eyes narrow. In a cautious voice, he asks, “What does that mean exactly?”

“Yuuri invited me to his parent's place,” Viktor answers. “I was going to take Makka and head up there for a bit. Probably until after New Year's. His parents want to meet me.”

Shoulders relaxing, Chris lets out an amused huff. “Oooh. I see. It's getting serious.”

“Hasn't it been serious?”

“Yes. But this is next level serious.” Chris snorts. “Not that I would know.”

“What do you mean? Don't Masumi's parents like you.”

“Mn, yes. But I met them by complete accident.”

Viktor looks back at Chris over his shoulder, confused.

Chris flaps a hand. “You don't remember? It was maybe three months into dating. Masu promised they would be out late that night so we'd have the house to ourselves, but... well. C'est la vie. Nothing says nice to meet you like being half naked on their living room couch.”

It takes longer to recall this particular story, but when he does, Viktor's cheeks warm with sympathetic embarrassment. “Oh, God. Please tell me that won't happen when I go up. I think I'd die.”

“If you're careful, it won't.”

“And you're not?”

Chris snorts. “Clearly not.”

Viktor turns back to his carrots, chewing his lip. “I don't think it's going to be that kind of trip...”

“Every trip is that kind of trip if you're clever enough.”

Viktor shakes his head. “Let's worry about impressing strangers first before all that.”

(Not that he's had one as of late. There isn't any room for anything but the constant stress and exhaustion. A younger Viktor would have no problem trying to fuck the pain away, his only coping mechanism aside from being a workaholic, but he can't even muster the desire to try and tempt Yuuri into some more long distance fun right now. Like most things right now, his sex drive has left him behind to deal with life on his own.)

“It's not that scary,” Chris assures him while dinner bakes in the oven. The dishwasher's running with their dinner prep dishes, and the timer on the oven slowly counts down until their food is ready. “I mean, it can't possibly go any worse than it did for me. And Masumi's parents like me. Even if we couldn't look each other in the eyes for a good hour at first. Now we have tea all the time.”

Resuming chopping, Viktor absently nods along. “Noted. Don't get naked and I'll ace this test.”

“Not anywhere semi-public, at least.” Chris glances down at his feet and smiles at his circling kitty. “Not yet, Marie.” Looking back up at Viktor, he asks, “Have you gotten them a Christmas present yet?”

At the mention, Viktor tries not to slump against the counter in defeat. It's something he's pondered ever since Yuuri asked him to visit, but his brain refuses to cooperate with him on that particular side quest. Anything he comes up with sounds worse than the last idea. “Nope. I have no clue what to give them.”

“Well, are you thinking a gift for everyone or just one big family gift?”

Viktor resumes chopping, refusing to make eye contact. “Noooo clue.”

“Hmm. The first thing I gave Masumi's parents for their 30^th anniversary was a photoshoot. We redid some of their old wedding photos, but in current day. They have some of them framed on their walls right now. Masu's mother is always magically remembering to point them out whenever I go over.”

“Cool. Love that for you.”

Chris frowns. “Viktor.”

Viktor winces. Some more life comes to him as he's subtly pinched with some social shame. “Sorry. Sorry. That is genuinely sweet. I'm happy they've adopted you like they have.”

“Uh huh. I'm trying to hint something for you.”

Viktor slices the thickest part of the carrot a little too hard. “I'm not making costumes for them, Chris.”

“Obviously not. I'm saying you should go for something a little personal. Anyone can bring a bottle of wine or buy a scarf or some shit. That's nice and all, but you have skills most don't. I bet you could come up with something really memorable if you gave it a proper chance. You could make a really strong impression. There's plenty of time left before you'd need to leave.”

Considering his brain feels like its full of cobwebs these days, Viktor's not too convinced. “Sure. I probably could.”

“Or you can get them a bottle of wine and call it a day. It's not a bad decision.”

But it's not necessarily the right one, either. Getting irritated, Viktor sighs aloud, “I don't want to be that forgettable and obvious. At the very least, I'd like there to be something worthwhile with the wine.”

“Do you know anything about them?”

“Not much. Just that they made the best person on the planet.”

“Heeeey...”

“One of the best,” Viktor corrects with a halfway cheeky grin.

Chris rolls his eyes. “Nice save. Anyway, try asking Yuuri for some help. Maybe he can help. He could tell you what they like and dislike.”

It's so obvious a solution, Viktor feels almost stupid for not having thought of it before. “Yeah. I should do that.”

As he ponders this, Makkachin wanders into the kitchen with her giant plushie toy in her mouth and sits down next to Marie on the floor. She drops the toy down on the floor, panting as she and Marie give their owners matching, wide-eyed looks of performative hunger and desperation. Chris puts his hand on his hip and regards them with amusement. With the tip of his foot, he nudges Makkachin's toy next to Marie. He smiles.

“Look at them. Kinda reminds me of those dolls you always have out for Christmas.”

Like the warmth of a small flame deep inside, Viktor feels himself light up at the mention. “Matryoshka dolls.”

Chris snaps his fingers. “Yes, those. You should be pulling those out soon. They're some of my favourite decorations we have, you know. Doesn't feel like Christmas without them out on the mantel.”

Viktor smiles. “They're my favourite, too. They're extra special. My babushka hand painted them for my first birthday.”

It's complicated to think about, those dolls. He rarely ever has the whole set out, not anymore. Not since he's left “home.” But every Christmas he at least puts out the first and last dolls out with the rest of his decorations: his grandmother, younger than she is now but still with faint smile lines and wrinkles on her painted face, and Viktor, a small baby with rosy pink cheeks and dewy, blue eyes.

Even if he's unfortunately more familiar with her as a small, wooden doll than as a living, breathing person next to him, something about these dolls always made Viktor feel more loved than the other people in the room with him while growing up. Anyone can see the love and care handcrafted into these dolls. Knowing they were made especially for him, far, far away in another country he knows only old stories of, it fills him with an old longing in words he's painfully aware he doesn't know...

Although the occasional phone call he and his babushka share from across the world does help.

Chris compliments, “They've aged pretty well, all things considered. Hardly any chipped paint or wood to be seen.” He chuckles. “Looking at these two food machines always reminds me of them, with the way they always sit next to each other, from big to small. If Yuuri and Vicchan ever move in with us, we should totally get a set made of the three of them. Wouldn't that be cute?”

Viktor looks at Chris, then down at the two animals, thinking.

He stands little straighter.

“I gotta go,” he suddenly announces, dropping his chopping knife on the cutting board. Without warning, he takes off towards the hallway.

Chris half-follows him to the doorway, hand clinging to the frame as he calls out, “Wait, where are you going? Dinner's in ten minutes – ”

“I'll be back, I just gotta get my phone!” Viktor calls back, already halfway at the stairs. “Chris, you're a genius!”

Helplessly confused, all Chris can do is scratch his head and let Viktor do as he pleases.

-

Viktor:

Hey, you know how you needed measurements a while ago for a not-surprise?

Could I have a photo of your family? Also for a not-surprise

:3c

❤ Sweetheart ❤:

Sure, why the hell not

I love keeping secrets

Chapter Text

There's something so odd about keeping secrets from two people at once, especially when both secrets and people are connected.

Although, it's not really like Yuuri has to do much. Just keep his mouth shut and hide certain reactions in conversation. It's relatively easy, all things considered. However, he still feels strange whenever he's conversing with either party throughout the day, unused to this new role as the two halves of his life slowly come together.

(Is this something that happens to all couples, or is this just his silly ass life?)

On the one hand, he's finally texted his mother Makkachin's measurements, which has earned him the occasional photo update of the dog sweater in question slowly being knit into existence. It is a little hard not to forward the pics to Viktor. They could be a little beam of light in what has been too many days of stress, but Yuuri doesn't want to ruin the big moment for either his mother nor Viktor, so he resists the urge. Not when such things feel so much better in person. Instead, he gives his mother little comments of encouragement and thumbs up emojis when she inquires as to how it looks, and that seems to satisfy her just as well.

“Has Makkachin ever worn anything like this before?” his mother asks one night over the phone.

Yuuri shrugs. His phone is balanced precariously between his shoulder and ear, his hands too busy at the moment to keep it steady. He's at his sewing machine, fussing around with the furry, brown material he's managed to find for this particular project. It took longer than expected, the stores in his area out of stock of anything close to this, but he was able to find it in time online for a decent-ish price. With only two weeks before Viktor arrives, he has to finish this ASAP.

(Unfortunately, it feels like he's breathing it all in, entire fluffs of it flying up into his face as he sews like little clouds. He's going to be coughing up hair balls if he's not careful. If there's a sewist version of Clown Lung, this must be in.)

He replies back, “Sorta? From what I know, it didn't survive longer than a few minutes.”

“Oh, my... Is a sweater a bad idea? I'd hate for it to get ruined.”

Yuuri recalls the ancient Youtube video of Makkachin playing around and tearing off an elaborate costume made of stiff foam and fake, cumbersome horns. It's a far cry away from a softer, more yielding material like yarn, so he feels fairly confident in answering, “I think it'll be fine. It was a long time ago, she was still a puppy back then.”

“Oh, a puppy,” his mother sighs. “I hope Viktor has pictures to share. I'd love to see them.”

Yuuri can't help but smile at the thought of Viktor and his mother bonding over old photos. His sewing machine hums in the background as his foot gently pushes down on the pedal at an easy pace. More fur flies up at him in a cloud of brown wisps, but he manages not to hack and cough into his phone. Somehow. “Don't worry. I'm sure he does. He has hundreds of photos of her on his phone and then some.”

Chuckling, his mother hits him dead and center with a terrifying, “Oh, good. I already have your old photos out and ready. I even found some old videos I thought I lost! I can't wait to show him how cute you were as a baby. Do you remember the video of you with the giant cookie? Ah, you tried so hard to get your mouth around it, but you were so small. The cookie was almost the size of your head.”

Yuuri nearly fumbles his phone. He manages to rescue it seconds before it can hit the ground. “Ah, maybe not that one! Or any of them. He doesn't want to see those.”

His mother's chipper voice deflates. “He doesn't?”

Flustered, Yuuri stumbles out, “Um, well... maybe some of them are okay...”

Damn it. Why couldn't he have been born a better liar? Mari's a master of getting away with things – but him? His face and voice give everything away, whether he likes it or not. And the world loves toying with someone who can't hide their thoughts from their expressions.

Realizing there's no way out of this, Yuuri scrubs a hand over his face and tacks on, “Let's... go over them first. And pick out the best ones. Okay?”

(Surely that will save him, right? Right?)

In any case, his mother is delighted. “Okay! I'll organize everything by date. We can start from the beginning, and then work our way up to...”

Yuuri, humbly, accepts his terrible fate.

Some things are simply, truly inevitable.

-

However, he can't think on such things for too long. There are other things to worry about.

Like Viktor's brand new secret, which he refuses to tell Yuuri anything about.

Yuuri:

What ARE you doing?

You've been sneaky all week

Viktor ❤:

Nothing, nothiiiing. Just a little project~

Yuuri:

You're going to tell me at some point though

Viktor ❤:

You'll find out when you find out : )

Yuuri:

uuuuuuuuugh

Viktor ❤:

Hee hee~

Sure, it's easy to say nothing to anyone about these secrets he's been asked to hide. What is there to say? But Yuuri's becoming extremely curious about why Viktor's suddenly asking personal questions about his parents, a whole flood of them that won't stop flowing. What are their names? What's it like to run a bed and breakfast? Do they like dogs? Questions itch at the back of Yuuri's throat in return, but Viktor refuses to give even a single, relieving scratch.

The curiosity only grows when Viktor asks for more photos of his family, specifically as many group shots as possible.

Yuuri has to do a little digging to fulfill the request, but luckily his father keeps an online digital album that everyone has access to, so all he has to do is comb through the endless family vacation and party photos for the most applicable ones. It's a little difficult, given how often one of them is behind the camera, but there's enough taken by friends and strangers that Yuuri has some decent ones to send off. A solid mix of old and newer pictures that showcase the Katsuki family over the years. Yuuri feels a little shy sending some of them, given how young and awkward he looks in some of these, but the reaction Viktor gives him when he does is worth the price, especially if it gives him any reprieve from reality.

Viktor ❤:

Ohhh my GOD, you're so cute! Look at you!!!!

Yuuri:

Don't look too hard, the me in those photos will find a way to hide from you

Viktor ❤:

But how can I ever look away? You're so adorable!

Who is that next to you? The bored looking girl? That must be your sister

Yuuri:

Yeah, that's Mari. That's before she started dying her hair

She's not exactly bored lol, that's just her face in general

We both have perfect resting bitch faces, but she's a little better at hiding hers these days

Viktor ❤:

Aaaah, I see

Wow, your mom and dad haven't aged too much between all these pictures. Just the faintest hint of wrinkles and greying hair

Yuuri:

Runs in the family honestly. You should see pics of my grandparents on both sides, they still look like they're closer to their 50s than their 70s. Otosan's parents run our family's hot springs back in Japan. Whenever anyone asks when they're going to finally retire and pass it on to my uncle they just change the subject

Viktor ❤:

Oooooh hot springs. That sounds absolutely divine

I know I already said this, but you really do have your mother's face. And eyes. You definitely have your father's height, though. You're practically towering over her

Yuuri:

You have no idea how much I hear that

I outgrew her by the time I was 15. That's when she began asking me to grab stuff from the top shelves for her

I'm still convinced Mari shoved stuff up that high just so mom would have to ask me

Viktor ❤:

Ahhhh height. I know that problem all too well

Sooo... what are they like? Your family?

I know I ask this a lot, but I want to hear more

Yuuri:

Nervous to meet them?

Viktor ❤:

Of course!

I have to dazzle them. First impressions are everything.

Yuuri:

Somehow I don't think that will be a problem

They're already impressed by you, I promise

Viktor ❤:

Yuuuriiiiiiiiiii ;o;

Please?

Yuuri:

Hmmm...

Well, they're pretty relaxed. Down to earth. When they're sober, anyway. Then it's a whole other story... Dad's a big drinker, and he gets a little rowdy once he's had a few too drinks, but it's nothing bad. Uh, heads up for New Years, I guess. Not that we'll likely see much of him that night. He and his sports buddies hang out in a different room than the rest of us, though we'll definitely hear them lol

Viktor ❤:

I'm not bothered by it! My father also gets drunk at New Years. On lots of occasions, actually. I'm used to rowdiness

Yuuri:

... Is it really okay?

Viktor ❤:

Is what okay?

Yuuri:

Being with us for the holidays, I mean

Won't your parents miss you?

Viktor ❤:

Do I care?

Yuuri:

Sorry...

Viktor ❤:

No, wait, I'm sorry. That was uncalled for

I don't mean it like that. Of course you'd worry about something like that

Yuuri:

I just worry they'll miss you, or you'll miss out

I want you here, don't get me wrong, but I don't want to get in the way of anything either

Viktor ❤:

I'm really not missing anything

To be honest, we just don't have that kind of relationship. If they bother to call me, it's only to guilt trip me for the 50^th time in a row. I can't recall the last time I willingly called them, either. The silence is better

Yuuri:

I see

Viktor ❤:

I'm sure you know what that's like. Getting told all the time how much they want you to stop chasing silly dreams and start living in reality, right? Like nothing you do is good enough for them

Yuuri:

I mean... no?

They tell me they miss me, but they never say anything about what I'm doing. They don't intrude on my life much, not unless I ask for help first

They were a little worried when I quit my bachelor's degree to go into dancing, but they still supported me doing it

Viktor ❤:

Oh

Yuuri:

Maybe that's all your parents mean when they call you? That they're worried? Maybe they come across wrong

Viktor ❤:

Ha. Sure.

Anyway, if I went “home,” I'd be miserable for sure.

I'd much rather be with you

Makkachin agrees. Look!

[pic]

Yuuri:

... Viktor, that's just a picture of her chewing up a toy

Viktor ❤:

Yes! And she wants you to help. It's too powerful for her alone. That's why we need to go see you, immediately

Yuuri:

Haaaaaaa

You're cute when you're changing the subject

Viktor ❤:

:3

Hey, random not at all important question, but what kind of things are your family into? Do they have favourite colours? Things they dislike? I need to know everything right away

Yuuri:

Totally not suspicious at all

Viktor ❤:

Not at all~

-

Things are strangely quiet as the next week or so pass.

While a certain obnoxious group has been cut off from the source of their ire, Yuuri knows they're likely complaining elsewhere. On social media, in private group chats, who cares. He doesn't go searching any of it out, for his own sake as well as Viktor's. It doesn't help either of them to know what they're saying or doing. So far, the hundreds of people left are behaving where they need to, and for the moment, that's all that matters.

Viktor, on the other hand... He's been quiet everywhere.

The last post he made on his Patreon is straight to the point. Hey, Happy Holidays. The last packages have been sent out, see you all in the new year. Deceptively simple, despite all the tension that's been lingering in recent, business related posts. The comments are still disabled, on past posts and the latest one, and Yuuri really can't blame him for not tempting sharks with fresh blood. Sad as it is, it's better to end the year in relative silence than invite more disruption before the year has rolled over.

Thankfully, Viktor continues talking to Yuuri consistently over texts rather than disappearing into the ether, and they keep to their weekly date night routine. He doesn't say at all what he's been busy doing as of late, outside of regular business demands. Despite the constant buzz of worry under Yuuri's skin, he holds himself back from prying. The last thing he needs to be doing is sniffing for smoke when there isn't necessarily a fire.

Although... knowing how Viktor is...

-

“You'd tell me if you weren't okay, wouldn't you?” Yuuri asks during their last date night for the month. The last, because a little less than a week from now Viktor plans to drive himself and Makkachin up to Michigan to meet up with Yuuri. They'll spend a night or so at Yuuri's apartment before they head out to Ann Arbour for the holidays, for about two weeks of wintry vacation.

He can't believe how close Christmas is already – the month is flying. They're already at the halfway mark! It's good and bad. Mostly good, if Yuuri has a say in it. He's more than prepared for Viktor to get here, his Christmas and birthday gifts for him wrapped and safely tucked away in its own set of luggage. Viktor hasn't been the only one secretly working away at a little project. He's eager to see Viktor's face when he opens it.

Not to mention Yuuri's arms have felt too empty as of late. He means to rectify that as soon as possible. The holidays really can't get here soon enough.

“I would,” Viktor assures him over their Discord call. No video call tonight again – part of Yuuri wanted to ask, but Viktor didn't offer. Something in Yuuri's gut tells him not to bother. “I'm – I'm not perfectly okay, but I'm here. That's really all I can say.”

Yuuri leans back against his bed frame, cushioned by his pillows. His Switch is in his lap, the multiplayer screen from Mario Kart open. However, neither of them have bothered to pick a player. They've just been sitting here, together despite the distance, the bouncy, enthusiastic music playing distantly in the background while their hushed voices catch up over the past week.

“Have you thought about things? About... what you want to do?”

“I've been thinking about a lot of things,” Viktor answers vaguely.

“Things you'll tell me?”

“Maybe... soon. When I figure them out.” Viktor huffs out a small laugh. “I don't know what to tell you. I feel like I'm stuck in a standstill, only it's against myself.”

“I know the feeling,” Yuuri replies. “It's like – you're frozen in place. Like no decision is the right one.”

Viktor confesses, “Every decision feels wrong.”

“I get that.”

“But... not making a decision is a choice, too. And I know it's the wrong choice to make, too.”

“Sounds like something a therapist would point out,” Yuuri semi-jokes.

“Yeah. Mine does, anyway. They're right. They're right about too many things. It's kinda unnerving sometimes.”

Yuuri toys with a stray thread hanging off the cuff of his sweater sleeve. He knows the answer, but he can't help himself from asking. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Not really.” He hears the faint smile in Viktor's voice. “You're helping me plenty. I really appreciate you listening to me complain all the time.”

“Anytime.” Sensing the lull in conversation, Yuuri changes the subject. “So, excited to come up here?”

“Very! I actually finished some of my gifts for you and your family today. Took a little while to plan them and order some things in, but I'm nothing if not ambitious.” Viktor chuckles, a hint of mischief to it. “I'd show you what I have so far, but that would defeat the purpose of a surprise. Everything should be ready before I head out, though.”

Yuuri smiles along. So long as Viktor's having fun with it, then he'll find a way to not mind being kept in the dark. “My family really aren't expecting anything. They're just excited I have a living, breathing partner to introduce them to. I've been terminally single for so long, they almost didn't believe me when I told them you existed. I was nervous they were going to ask if you were 'from Canada' or something. Actually, I'm surprised my sister didn't ask that.”

“Ha! I'm as American and real as the rest of you. And I'm sorry sweetie, but I need to impress them. What better way is there to do that than by showing off my art skills?”

Yuuri's brow lifts. “You didn't make them costumes, did you?”

“Noooo. I can barely make myself a costume right now, let alone anyone else. But some of those skills are transferable to other things. How lucky is that?”

At first, Yuuri feels bad for even bringing up costuming at all, but with the way Viktor laughs it off like it's nothing, something in his chest eases. It can't be all bad, not if Viktor's genuinely excited about it. It must be doing wonders for Viktor's mental health if he's able to carry on like this. Yuuri teases back, “I made you something, too.”

Viktor gasps. “You did?”

“Mmhmm. No hints, though. It's also a surprise.”

He hears Viktor clapping in the background. “Ooh, sounds fun! I like your surprises.” There's a brief pause. “Although – just so not everything is a surprise – do I need to bring anything special with me? I have clothes and things for Makkachin packed, but are we doing anything specific while I'm up there?”

“Mnn, yes and no. We usually take it pretty easy. Honestly, besides exploring and hanging out with family, we're probably going to do a lot of gaming. Feel free to bring whatever you want, we have lots of older consoles up there.” It hits Yuuri as he says it all out loud. “Ah, when I say we... there will be more than just my parents there, at least some of the time. I have some childhood friends in the area that always come visit since they live close by. They have triplets, so there'll be little kids running around. Minako will be there for a few days, too. And then there's the New Year's party... It's gonna be pretty busy most of the time. I hope that doesn't bother you?”

“Not at all. Sounds like it will be a big reunion. I am excited to see the rest of the gang again.” Viktor pauses. “But if there's more people I'm meeting, I should definitely make more gifts.”

“You coming is a gift alone,” Yuuri tells him. “We can come up with some joint gifts later when you get here, if you want. But it's not necessary. Couples do that all the time, right? We can totally get away with it.”

Viktor laughs again, the sound like a wave of cool, calming water over Yuuri's permanently fried nerves. “For the first time I meet your friends? Maybe. I've never given a joint gift before. I'm sure we could find something fun.”

“Yeah,” Yuuri says, feeling his spirits slowly lifting. “I was going to show you around the place, anyway. We can visit some shops and find an ornament or something for the family. Yuuko's always collecting cute little trinkets, and her kids love anything sparkly. Takeshi, on the other hand... That might be a little trickier.”

“Not as close to him?”

“We're not super close, but we're friendly. He's less about things and more about experiences, so we don't usually trade gifts unless it's food or liquor.” Yuuri thinks about it some more. “He's a big family person, too. He's always posting pictures of everyone on Facebook, going out places, doing things together. It's actually kind of funny. If you knew him in high school, you never would have guessed he'd turn out like that.”

“Hmm. We could always treat them to a day out somewhere,” Viktor suggests. “I don't know what's available over there, but you know the area and what the general schedule looks like. Unless that's a bad idea? I'm not sure what they expect, so – ”

Yuuri cuts the thought off before it can get too far. “That's a great idea. I'll look up some things later and text Yuuko later about what her plans look like. I'm sure they'd love that.”

There's a pause, but Viktor voice sounds lighter when he speaks again. “Well, good. And what should I get for Minako? Can't leave her out of the equation. She's your boss and a family friend, no? I'll need to impress her as well.”

“Booze,” Yuuri flatly responds.

“... Anything else?”

“Hot men,” Yuuri adds on in the same voice. “But she can find those on her own time. You're going to be too busy with me to help her in that tireless crusade.”

Viktor's laugh sounds equal parts startled and entertained.

Each time he makes such a sound, Yuuri begins to feel more and more like the next day really will be better than the last.

Chapter Text

The night before Viktor has to leave, he's hit with a burst of last minute vacation rush.

Not because he's forgotten to pack. Quite the contrary. He's spent all week adding things here and there to his luggage: two large suitcases and a matching bag that have to fit everything he needs for both him and Makkachin. He makes it work – naturally, after years of travelling like this – but every day he wakes up feeling like he's forgotten something important. Off and on throughout the week he unpacks and repacks, finds things he thinks he needs, decides he doesn't need them at all, and then spends the rest of the day pondering it all over again until he decides to redo the process all over the next day.

It would be exhausting if it weren't also very exciting. Viktor's kind of living for the thrill of it all.

(At the very least, this feels like something in his control.)

That said, this is his last night to get things right, because there won't be time in the morning. Assuming things go to plan, he has roughly a ten hour trip ahead of him, and he has to leave early. He's already midway into the evening, shortly before supper. Knowing he'll need as much sleep as possible for the long drive, Viktor wants to be officially finished packing within the hour.

So he digs, and looks, and thinks some more. This, but not that. That instead of this. Here in his hands is a nice pajama set for the average day at home, but certainly not as a guest in someone else's home. Ah, but he has another, newer set that would be much nicer... now where is it...

Going through his dresser for the final time, Viktor stumbles across something carefully hidden beneath the many layers of clothes crammed inside. His hand flies way from it as though burned. Immediately, the room crackles from the sudden tension.

He knows what it is.

He put it here on purpose a few weeks ago, when the contents of it began to feel too painful to acknowledge.

After all, how could he ever forget this small make-up bag?

Still, even as his heart trembles in his rib cage, Viktor can't help but hesitantly pick the bag up and unzip it, revealing it's hidden depths. The silver teeth groan as they part, too loud in Viktor's quiet room, although they're still no match for the sound of Viktor's blood thundering in his ears.

Seeing it now, fresh waves of guilt wash over him for having hidden this at all. What would Yuuri think if he knew?

Because nestled safely inside are the first gifts Yuuri ever gave him, when their friendship and bond was still so fresh and new. The contents of this bag are highly treasured, hardly used, but precious to him all the same. There's a tube of mascara, several compacts of blush and eye shadow, multiple tubes of lipstick...

One of them in particular catches his eye, and it holds his gaze with an unyielding grip.

Viktor's heart speeds ever faster as he lifts it out of the bag.

The perfect, shimmery blue lipstick he has worn only once.

He examines the smooth, shiny surface like it's new to him all over again. The only hint to the true colour inside is the sapphire blue cover, the rest a mysterious black. It's deceptively small for something so powerful. He recalls the way its angled surface slid effortlessly across his lips, at the hands of someone so kind and loving, who knew what they were doing. As if Yuuri understood the weight of sharing his art with Viktor in that moment. Welcoming Viktor back into this world he thought he'd shut away forever...

He thinks about that sometimes. More often than he wants to admit.

The feeling has been an inescapable phantom on his skin ever since that day, an incredible high he desperately wishes he could chase after once more for another hit.

For a while, after that life-altering trip, Viktor did keep these pieces out on his vanity. Never out of their tiny coffin, but still always within reach. Although he rarely did much more than open them and stare in wonder, imagining the way they could make him feel if he only allowed them the chance to come alive again, he kept them in sight for a while, the magic of Yuuri's touch living like a small, hopeful flame staving off the impending dark. The mere sight of them made him smile more times than he likes to admit. As much as he mourned their memory, if was still a pleasant memory to have.

... In more recent days, though that tiny fire still burns, the heaviness of that darkness became too overwhelming at times, too looming and inevitable. Sometimes Viktor looks at these items and feels angry instead of joy. At himself. At everyone who made him feel this profound, unshakable shame. At how impossible it all seems to get to the other side of this wall. Other times, he feels nothing at all. Like he has all this years leading up to meeting Yuuri. A yawning, infinite emptiness that keeps everything too foggy to grasp. After all, it can't hurt if you can't even comprehend its true form.

(Maybe that's the biggest lie of all.)

Truth be told...

Worst of all is when he looks at them – and he feels utterly hopeless.

To say there aren't days when he wishes he could just put some of them on once more – not in a costume, but as himself – would be a lie. And though he never once gave in, afraid the magic was long gone and he'd never feel that euphoric and free ever again, those days came around more frequently than ever before.

“It's not magic,” Yuuri told him. It's all within reach, should he reach back.

So why can't he convince himself that's the truth?

Viktor holds up his treasured blue lipstick, the thing so tiny and light in his hands it may as well not even exist, and he feels a sigh building inside.

He's so tired. He can't keep crawling in the dirt with all this weight on his back. He's being crushed alive, and he can feel his last breaths rattling out in a desperate protest for life. Something has to finally give.

“What if you took a small step?” Dr. Ana asked him during his last session. When the crying was over. When Viktor admitted he was done with everything as it was.

“What would that even look like?” Viktor asked back.

They answered, “Whatever you want it to be. Whatever feels right.”

What does feel right, anymore?

Viktor wonders that. He tells himself to put the lipstick back into the bag, shove it back into the dresser, and forget about it forever.

But he can't make himself do it.

He can only think about how comfortable this blue felt on his lips, calming, soothing. How careful the hands that held him were. How big his smile felt on his face as he laughed, as he was kissed, as he felt so much, alive again for the first time in years. He's walking, talking, breathing now, but he may as well be a corpse for how dead he feels on the inside.

What does he do? What does he want?

It's almost silly to ask. Even if he can't say it out loud, he knows what he wants. He's always known.

He doesn't register how long he's been standing there, his memories on an infinite loop of circling joy and despair, until eventually Chris' voice calls up the stairwell and into his open bedroom door.

“Viktor, dinner's ready! Quit packing and take a break already!”

He's shocked back to the present. Right. He has a task to finish. Food to eat. Things to do. Life doesn't stop moving forward just because he wants to lose himself into something dangerous.

He goes to return the lipstick back to the make-up bag.

His hand freezes in the air.

Something in him delays, unsure...

Until he suddenly isn't.

He takes one last look at the lipstick... and squeezes it tightly as he makes his final decision.

-

“Excited to head out tomorrow?” Chris asks over dinner. It's a hearty one tonight: chili, toasted bread with butter, a little salad on the side. Perfect leftovers for Viktor to scarf down in the morning before he has to head out. It tastes even better with the two of them on the couch, enjoying some classic holiday TV specials as snow gently falls outside the window. Like the old days when they were still living in a tiny apartment. They even have out some of those old decorations that have made the transition from those earlier, “struggle” days to their steady home. “Tacky,” as Chris lovingly calls them, but cozy and familiar all the same.

This affectionate teasing of course does not apply to the matryoshka dolls, the beginning and ending pieces of the set sitting side by side on the mantel under the flat screen TV. They simply belong where they sit, overlooking them were they relax and enjoy their food.

It's sad they'll be here, without him for the first time ever, but something about them being here when Viktor returns makes him smile all the same.

“Very,” Viktor answers. His heart still feels a little unsteady when he thinks about his luggage upstairs, but something in him says he's making the right choice, even if it's the scariest one possible. It's not too late to take any of it back, but he forces himself to stay still, stay here in the moment, and just let it be.

Besides, Makkachin keeps licking her lips at him and panting for a bite of bread. How can he leave her in his silly panic? He sneaks her a tiny bit of the crust that's devoid of any butter, smiling as she woofs it down in two crunchy bites.

Chris nods along. “It won't be the same. It's going to be weird around here without you.”

Viktor looks up from his sweet girl. “I thought you were going to your parent's for Christmas?”

“Yeah,” Chris says, “for Christmas.”

It takes a second for it to click. “No New Year's plans? I thought you and Masumi were spending it together?”

“We are.” The next moment, Chris sighs.

Viktor carefully broaches, “... And you're not happy about it?”

“I am.”

Viktor frowns. “You don't sound like it.”

“I'm not unhappy about it.”

After thinking about it for a moment, Viktor wonders aloud, “So, it's not about him, but something else.”

Chris' lips firm together. His spoon clinks against the bowl as he sets it aside and slumps back into the couch, though he still doesn't explain. It's then, in the faint light of their living room, that Viktor notices the subtle bags under Chris' eyes dragging his youthful appearance down. How long have they been there? Chris has always been careful with his looks and nightly routine, but whatever is going on must be tiring enough to make itself visibly known like this.

Viktor's stomach sinks.

“Is it me?” he asks.

Chris barks out a laugh. “No. Not everything is about you.”

Viktor tries not to shrink in his seat. “I know. But if I'm stressing you out – ”

“It's not you. Not this time.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, Chris huffs out, “It's someone else. Someone who hasn't wanted to talk to me in weeks.”

It dawns on him then. “Phichit?”

Chris snaps his fingers at him. Huffs out an exasperated, “Biiiingoooo. But what else is new.”

“Still? I thought maybe you two smoothed it over by now.” Not that Viktor has heard much since Chris admitted there were issues between the two of them. And that was around Halloween, many weeks ago. Chris rarely has long tiffs with anyone, least of all a friend. Yuuri hasn't mentioned anything, either. Trying to picture Phichit mad at anyone just felt unimaginable as well.

“We're not actively fighting or anything like that,” Chris clarifies. “At least, I don't think so. But the last time we spoke... I said some things, and he said he needed some space to think.”

“That's it?

Chris shrugs. “What else is there to say? I caught feelings. I confessed them. And he shut me out.” He lets out a humourless laugh. “Not rudely. Not like he never wants to see or talk to me again necessarily. More like... he doesn't know what to say to me? It feels awkward.” The cheerless smile on Chris slips away. “We were having fun, and I had to go and ruin it with something real. Typical.”

Viktor blinks at him. “You really confessed?”

Chris throws his hands up in the air. “I guess I did? Real smart of me, huh? I got the impression he was feeling something back, but nah, it was all in my head. Now I've ruined not only a good friendship but a pretty reliable business relationship. I'm an idiot.”

With a shake of Viktor's head, he disagrees. “I don't think so.”

Arching his brow, Chris retorts with a flat, “No?”

“Phichit's not like that,” Viktor says.

“You're close to him, too?”

“Well, no... not really. But he's a pretty smart guy. Smarter than me, for sure. He's rescued me from my own foolishness before. It's hard to picture him like that. I'm sure he really does just needed the space to think about things. Some things...” Viktor wavers, but pushes through. “Some things take a long time to get to the bottom of. Even if that hurts everyone involved. I'm sure he doesn't mean to hurt you. But maybe he's hurting, too?”

Chris looks at him for a long moment. When he looks away, he toys with his spoon. “Maybe.”

“Have you reached out to him recently?”

“No. I didn't want to bother him. He's the one who drew a line. I'm just waiting for him to decide whether or not I'm worth talking to again.”

“You are. I bet he misses you, too. How could he not?” Stirring his chili, Viktor thinks it over. When it hits him, sudden as a light switch flicking to life, Viktor drops his spoon in a clumsy clatter and holds his finger up. “Oh! I know. I'll talk to him when I see him tomorrow. Easy peasy.”

Chris looks mortified at the thought. “I don't need you to do that – ”

“But it'd be so simple. I'm not saying I'll pressure him to tell me anything he doesn't want to, but I can get a feel for what's going on over there. Maybe Yuuri knows what's going on, too. I could ask him.”

“I don't know...” Chris makes a face. “Isn't it the same as me bothering him, just through you? I don't know if he'll like that.”

“Maybe,” Viktor says. Then he leans over the middle of the couch, his voice conspiratorial as he whispers, “But Phichit likes me. I'm sure he'd be honest if I asked an innocent question. Nothing in his face. Just a little, 'hey, have you talked to Chris lately'?”

Chris stares at him with a flat expression. The sort that blares out a booming, “You have got to be kidding me.”

Viktor leans back. “I won't do it if you don't want me to. But the offer is on the table. I know you said Phichit asked for space, but it's been a while, right? Maybe he also doesn't know how to come back to the table.”

Chris stares down at his food, quiet but considering.

It lasts for so long, Viktor suspects the conversation is over for the moment. He starts digging through his bowl for his next bite when Chris suddenly speaks up again.

“You'd actually be willing to do that...?”

Viktor looks at him, then offers him a sympathetic smile. “Of course I would. You've helped me plenty of times. The least I could do is help you.”

He doesn't look any less unsure, but Chris doesn't outright reject the offer. “It feels kind of wrong.”

“I won't say anything bad. Only that you're thinking of him. And if he gets mad, I'll back off right away. No digging, just a little poke.”

Chris exhales deeply. “Fine. But if he shuts it down, then leave it be. The last thing I want to do is make this worse. I don't think he hates me, but if I'm making him uncomfortable, then there's no sense in pressuring him to try and talk to me just because I'm bothered about it.”

Viktor gives him a cheeky thumbs up. “Understood. I'm sure it'll be okay. I'll message you either way with what I find out.”

After taking a long look at him, Chris shakes his head. “Look at you. You're in a weirdly good mood tonight. That excited to be out of here, huh?”

Like he could ever hide that fact. Viktor smiles softly, his voice equally tender as he replies, “Yeah. I guess... I'm ready. More than ready.”

Chris doesn't say anything more. The bags under his eyes are still apparent under his eyes, needing more than single night's rest to erase them from sight, but Chris' shoulders relax as they settle in to eat the rest of their meal in companionable silence.

-

❤ Sweetheart ❤:

I can't wait to see you tomorrow

Viktor:

Me, too

You're going to get so sick of me but I don't even care, I just need to be at your side

❤ Sweetheart ❤:

I could never

Drive safe <3 I'll see you soon

-

The time has finally come.

Although the morning is still dark, the night resistant to the coming day, today feels so much brighter than any before it in weeks.

For the first time in what feels like forever, Viktor wakes up with a smile.

After a fast hour of rushing some leftover food into his belly, packing his luggage into the car, and setting up the backseat to be as comfortable as possible for Makkachin with thick blankets and one of her favourite toys to chew on, Viktor's finally ready to take off. His winter jacket is thick and warm on him, his boots ready for however many inches of snow there may be further west, and he has a small bag of drinks and snacks for him and Makkachin both. There will be a few breaks along the way, but Viktor aims to make this as much of a straight shot as possible.

Standing in the foyer with Makkachin on her leash, Viktor bids Chris farewell.

“Call if anything happens,” Chris says. His eyes widen when Viktor engulfs him in an abrupt, tight hug, the sort that lingers perhaps a little longer than expected. Chris' hands hover awkwardly for a moment before finally finding their place on Viktor's back.

“I'll miss you,” Viktor whispers.

“You're being silly. What is there to miss? Why are you acting like you're not coming back?” Chris retorts. To the untrained eye, Chris seems unbothered, but Viktor can feel the subtle tension in his body as he asks that question.

“I'm coming back,” he replies. When Viktor pulls away, he's smiling so hard it hurts. Walking out of here feels like leaving something behind, something he's been ready to shed off his skin for a long time for something bigger and better. He wants Chris to come along for the journey, but it's all he can do but promise he'll be back one way or another. “Take care while I'm away. We'll celebrate our own little Christmas when I return.”

“Sure, sure.” Chris pats his back. “Remember what I said. Focus on having a good time, not on this crap. Okay?”

Viktor simply nods.

With nothing more left to say, Viktor takes his leave. He breathes in the cold morning air, crisp in his lungs, allowing it to refresh his heart and mind. It's the first steps of the a new day. He won't let it go to waste.

From the back of the car, Makkachin let's out an excited woof.

Viktor smiles back at her. “Let's go. Yuuri's waiting for us.”

Without another second to lose, they take off.

-

It's dark when they leave Pennsylvania, and it's dark again when they arrive in Michigan.

The brief hours of sunlight are enjoyable during their short breaks on the road, the distant sun's rays a reminder of better times to come despite the night's current reign on the sky. Sunlight sparkles across the ice and snow along the sides of the freeway, like the glittery world inside a snow globe once it's been shaken up. Viktor admires the view as they drive, even as the sun inevitably drifts away far too soon, leaving them back under the calming watch of the moon. But the snow continues to sparkle all the same, mirroring the starry sky above. It leaves Viktor with the sense that everything will be okay no matter what comes next.

Just because his world has been shaken up doesn't mean things won't settle once again, and hopefully for the better.

He thinks of his luggage, packed safely away in his trunk, and he grips his steering wheel with a rush of determination.

After many, many hours, they're off the freeway and onto much calmer roads.

It's late when he finally pulls into the parking lot of Yuuri's apartment complex. However, it's never too late for Viktor to have two admirers waiting for him outside by the doorway. There's no telling how long they've been standing there, but they're dressed appropriately for the wait.

Beaming, Viktor rolls down his driver side window and calls out, “We're here!”

From the entrance of the apartment, Yuuri and Vicchan wait for him, the small poodle huddled in Yuuri's arms for warmth. Yuuri wrangles an arm free to give a big wave as he comes over to meet them in the parking lot. “Hey,” he calls back, “was the ride okay – ”

Viktor doesn't answer. He's too busy rushing out the car door and into Yuuri's arms.

“Oof!” Yuuri grunts as he's suddenly pulled into Viktor's arms. Vicchan's trapped between them, but he doesn't appear to mind the extra warmth surrounding him, his little paws settling easily on Viktor's chest. “Viktor...?”

Viktor still doesn't say anything. He holds onto Yuuri as closely as he can without hurting either of them. It's a little difficult with two thick winter jackets impeding them, but he does his best all the same.

It's a second before he realizes he's trembling. He started the day feeling like a weight has finally been lifted from his shoulders, only to realize it's been here the whole time. It only felt more bearable knowing he finally wouldn't be carrying it alone for much longer. He's crossed the finish line – now he wants to collapse in Yuuri's arms and stay here forever.

A second later, Yuuri uses his free arm to return Viktor's embrace, his hand at the back of Viktor's buried head. His fingertips brush against silver hair, Yuuri's touch soft despite the roughness of the pads of his gloves.

Yuuri draws his hand back. “Oh. Sorry, I didn't mean to...”

“It's okay,” Viktor says. “It doesn't bother me anymore.”

Silent for the moment, Yuuri's hair gently returns to the back of Viktor's head. “Your hair's gotten so long,” he whispers. It's long enough the ends of it almost touch the bottom of Viktor's neck, and his bangs are able to be pushed behind his ear and remain there indefinitely. It used to feel odd, a little too noticeable whenever Viktor turned his head this way or that because his hair would constantly brush against the collar of his shirts. It was even a bit of a pain when it came to wig caps and wigs, random points of hair refusing to stay tucked inside where he wants them. Although it was strange at first, it's been growing out for so long, he's steadily gotten used to the sensation of longer hair. He actually sort of likes it, despite the way it seems to worry others. What they say about awkward stages of hair growth must be true, because it's been in one for so long now, Viktor can steadily feel it finally entering a much more pleasant one than before. It'll be a long time before it can be pulled back properly, but something about the way his silver bangs fall around his face feel feels so much... softer. Nicer.

Who can say if it's really happening, though. He rarely stares at himself in a mirror. Not outside of cosplay, not when he's trying to be someone else entirely.

But he can't deny that it feels especially nice now, when Yuuri touches it so gently, like he can't help but enjoy the feel of it as well. It makes Viktor wonder what it'd be like if there were full tresses for his boyfriend to play with. His touch makes Viktor shiver – or is it the chilly, winter air?

“Wait,” Yuuri whispers, an airy laugh to his voice, “I just felt that. Do you like having your hair played with?”

It's too embarrassing a thing to answer in this moment, so Viktor doesn't. “I was going to get it cut. I even had an appointment earlier this week, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Do you like it?”

Pulling back, Yuuri's eyes roam Viktor's face. He smiles at what he sees.

“I think it suits you,” he says.

“Does it?” Viktor asks in a little voice. All he's heard is how this length is worrying, a sign of troubles returning, a symbol of Viktor losing himself again...

But Yuuri simply nods like it's none of those things. Vicchan lets out an excited bark too loud for such a small body, leaning up to lick at Viktor's face. His tongue is hot and wet against Viktor's cheeks. He's so used to the feeling of his own tears streaming in misery these days, the feeling of something else there, something of such warm affection, almost shocks him.

Yuuri laughs. “See? Vicchan agrees.”

Viktor laughs along, relieved. He can breathe here. He can just be. “Of course he does. Us Vicchan's understand each other.” He pets Vicchan's ear. “On that note, is it okay for them to meet out here? Makka's in the back. Can you hear her pawing the window?”

“That might be for the best,” Yuuri agrees. “I'm sure Makkachin's restless from the drive. Vicchan can smell her on you, I bet. They can get it all out of their system now before we have to make them behave inside.”

With Yuuri's go ahead, Viktor opens the backdoor of his car and carefully lets Makkachin out. She hops out, giving her coat a full shake that has her collar clinking before she looks up at the poodle in Yuuri's arms and lets her tongue hang out. Her tail wags ferociously, in anticipation of this encounter.

Spotting a new friend, Vicchan struggles in Yuuri's arms before he's allowed to be set down on the ground. He immediately bounds over, standing up on his hind legs to get a good look at the much larger poodle. Before long, the two are sniffing each other aggressively, walking around each other in curious circles for a long time. Viktor and Yuuri watch them carefully, their hands tight on their respective leashes, waiting for a single sign of this turning south, but the two of them let out a sigh of relief as the two dogs give each other playful snorts.

Once deemed safe, the two poodles are unclipped, and they begin to chase each other around the snowy grounds.

“Wow,” Yuuri says, watching the two of them chase each other around a tree. “That was fast. It's like they've been friends forever.”

Viktor watches them as well. That's the tree where he once sat after a particularly stressful night, feeling unworthy and sorry for himself. The memory feels so far away, replaced by a much better one of his and Yuuri's poodles playing chase around it. (At least, until Makkachin pauses to take a quick pee. Now it's just a funny memory.) “Yeah. Thank God. I had a feeling they'd get along, but waiting to see if it'd happen or not was a little worrying.”

“Well, looks like there was nothing to worry about.” After they've chased each other for several more minutes, Yuuri whistles for Vicchan. It takes a second whistle, but eventually the smaller poodle listens and hops through the snow back to Yuuri's side. Makkachin follows after him, trotting like a relaxed horse next to Vicchan's galloping bunny hops back to her owners side.

Viktor ruffles some of the thick, curly fur atop her head. “All out of your system?”

Makkachin happily boofs.

Clasping Vicchan back onto his leash, Yuuri gestures towards Viktor's car. “Want help carrying everything up?”

“We really only need one luggage case for tonight,” Viktor says. “The rest can stay down here until we leave.”

“Okay,” Yuuri replies. “One luggage case it is.”

Maybe it's silly, but it warms Viktor's heart a little as Yuuri grabs the aforementioned luggage, hauling it out of the trunk with one arm.

“Oooh,” Viktor pretends to fan himself. His cheeks feel pink. It's most certainly not from the wintry air this time. “So strong. My hero.”

Yuuri snorts. “Sure, sure.” He nods his head at the entrance awaiting them in the near distance. “Come on in. Hope you're hungry, we ordered in some carbs for you.” Without waiting to see what Viktor says next, Yuuri holds his free hand out. Although the end of Vicchan's leash is looped tightly around it, there's still plenty of space for Viktor's hand to take if he only accepts it into his.

Smiling back, Viktor holds on and allows himself to be lead inside into the warm comfort of Yuuri's home.

Chapter Text

“... but for the most part, the ride was pretty good!” Viktor's voice echoes up through the stairwell as they climb the many, many levels to get to Yuuri's floor. His hand holds onto Yuuri's comfortably, their fingers intertwining perfectly together, like it's always meant to be here. “My poor ass really hurts from all the sitting, though. Like, a lot.”

“Oh no, not your ass,” Yuuri snickers.

He half expects the obvious joke here – “Will you make it feel better later?” Wink wink, nudge nudge – but the joke never comes. Instead, Viktor sighs, “Poor indeed! I can't wait to lay down and put my feet up. You're driving tomorrow, right?”

Yuuri looks back at him, baffled. “Of course I am. There's no way I'm making you drive after today.”

Viktor looks relieved. “Aaaaah, gooooood...”

Yuuri can't help but smile to himself.

With a grunt, he lifts Viktor's suit case up one last time as they finally reach his floor, the wheels clanging against the tile as it hits the ground heavily. Vicchan circles impatiently in front of the locked door, looking up at the two of them with an understanding that one of them can magically open the mysterious barrier for him.

Ah, if only Vicchan had opposable thumbs and was five or more times his height, then he could open the door for them.

Wait – nope. Nuh uh. Bad idea. Vicchan would never leave the fridge or cabinets alone if he could do that.

“I can get the door,” Viktor offers as Yuuri digs through his coat pocket for his keyring.

“S'ok. You stand there and look pretty.”

Viktor chuckles. “Oh, well, if you say so. I guess I can do that.”

“You guess,” Yuuri echoes with his own laughter. The door creaks as he hauls it open, standing back to allow for two dogs and Viktor to walk through ahead of him. Once safely inside, he tugs the luggage case after him. “Remember which door it is?”

“Naturally.”

“Cool.” Yuuri hands off his keyring to Viktor. “Lead the way.”

It turns out that he doesn't really need to bother handing it off after all, as the door opens when they're only a few feet away, a friendly face smiling down the hallway at them. Phichit gives them both a big wave.

“Hey! It's been a while. Get in here before your food gets any colder.”

“Hello. Sorry for the intrusion,” Viktor greets back, giving his own tiny wave back as he's gently ushered inside the apartment with Yuuri's hand at his back. Both Makkachin and Vicchan race inside ahead of them both, but Yuuri's not too worried about either of them making a mess. At least, not in the short minute it will take to follow after them.

Phichit closes the door behind them. “Intrude? As if you could. We've been waiting all day for you. This one,” Phichit jerks a thumb in Yuuri's direction, “has been on his feet all day making sure everything's ready for you.”

“I wasn't that bad,” Yuuri defends himself. At least, nowhere hear as bad as last time. (It is what it is at this point, there's no further impressing anyone here.)

Phichit lifts his brow at him with a small grin on his face, but doesn't comment.

Yuuri resist the urge to groan. “Anyway... How'd you know he's here? Were you waiting by the door the whole time?”

“Naaaah.” Phichit flaps his hand. “I could hear you two all from the living room.”

Yuuri and Viktor exchange awkward looks. Were they really that loud?

Phichit snorts. “Aw, don't worry. You weren't too noisy. It's just that quiet up here right now is all. It is late, you know.” Hands on his hips, Phichit regards the two of them. “Well? Are you two going to stand there in your jackets and boots all night, or are you coming in? Because I'm hungry and ready to chow down.”

“You didn't have to wait on me,” Viktor begins to say, but Phichit's having none of it.

“Food always tastes better with friends, and I've been told this stuff is amazing to begin with.” With a happy bounce to his step, Phichit makes his way towards the kitchen area. “Let me warm them up so we can finally eat!”

Viktor watches Phichit disappear around the corner before whispering to Yuuri, “Whatever you got, it must be good.”

Yuuri does his best not to smirk and give the game away. “I mean, it was your lucky guess last time.”

“You mean...?”

He doesn't waste another second. Taking Viktor's jacket to hang up in the closet by the door, Yuuri grabs Viktor's hand and pulls him towards the living room.

It doesn't take long for their meals to be reheated. Phichit does Viktor's portion first, bringing the plate over to their guest after Viktor's sat down and made himself comfortable on the couch. He's petting Vicchan's little head, making little coo'ing noises when he looks up at what Phichit hands over, his eyes going wide.

“Wait. Is this...?”

Collapsing in the spot next to Viktor, Yuuri leans back and grins at his partner. “It's exactly what you think it is.”

Viktor practically moans. “Ooh. Chicken Tuscan Pasta. It smells as divine as it looked on the menu. I can't wait to finally – Ah! Not for you!” Thrusting his plate up in the air, Viktor narrowly avoids not one but two very interested poodles who start sniffing at his lap. Vicchan's too small to make it up onto the couch on his own, but with her added height, Makkachin begins to put a paw up on the couch next to her owner. Viktor narrowly squirms out of the way. “Makka, down! Yuuri, help?”

Luckily, Yuuri's used to this. He quickly – but gently – pushes Makkachin back. Poor thing must be snacky after the long drive. He looks back at Viktor. “Did she eat recently?”

“An hour or so ago,” Viktor says. “She just thinks you don't know that.”

“Mn. Of course. Hey, Phichit?” Yuuri calls out.

“Yes, my liege?” Phichit calls back from the kitchen, where he's warming up the next plate.

“Grab the treats?”

At the same time, both Makkachin's and Vicchan's ears perk at the magical word, their eyes honed in on Yuuri like said treats will suddenly appear if they only don't look away.

Phichit flashes him a quick thumbs up from the kitchen. “On it!”

Eyes on both dogs, Yuuri feels more than sees the bag of treats sliding in beside him. Without breaking eye contact, Yuuri grabs them and gives it a teasing shake.

“Ooh, what's this? Want some?”

Vicchan licks his nose, his tiny tail wagging so hard his whole butt goes with it. Makkachin, on the other hand, instinctively raises her other paw as if to say, “Shake paw? Shake paw!”

Instead, Yuuri points his finger towards the twin dog beds in the corner of the living room. One is Vicchan's usual dog bed, the other is the one normally kept at his parent's place for his use when they spend time overnight. He brought it back home from his last visit, fully expecting Makkachin to need one during her stay. Time to make good use of it, at least for while they eat their dinner.

“Go lay down,” he orders.

The two poodles hesitate, confusion in their large, hungry eyes, but after a snap of Yuuri's fingers, the two obey, Makkachin sniffing then curling up on one bed while Vicchan flops on the other with huffy snort. Once certain they're all nice and cozy, Yuuri gets up and drops a few treats on the floor before them. It's seconds before they're gone, completely inhaled by fast tongues lapping at the floor. Not that such a fact deters Makkachin nor Vicchan from sniffing and licking at his hands for more.

Yuuri chuckles. “Maybe later. Behave and we'll see.”

Thankfully, they listen, even if their ears twitch every now and then as more noises from the kitchen float through the air.

“I can't believe how big those beds are,” Viktor comments offhandedly. “It fits Makkachin perfectly.”

Yuuri rubs his poodle's head, smiling at the way Vicchan's tongue lolls out happily. He pushes his face into Yuuri's hand, his fur tickling Yuuri's skin. Seconds later, a second snout shoves itself into Yuuri's hand, demanding the same attention. Yuuri can't help but laugh quietly to himself, answering Makkachin's call without sparing another moment. It's adorable how perfectly she mirrors the smaller poodle's response, like the two have been cut and made from the same cloth.

“Vicchan likes everything big,” he replies. “Food, toys, beds. It's a good thing, too. Otherwise we'd have to figure something out for Makka.”

“Yuuriiii.” When Yuuri looks back over his shoulder, he sees Viktor holding out a hand, beckoning for Yuuri to return to his side.

Oh, look. Someone else who my attention.

Yuuri can't help but smile softly.

He gladly returns.

“All ready!” Phichit sings upon his return, twin plates of the same food in his hands. He hands Yuuri one before sitting down the opposite end of the couch. “Sorry. Our bad for not having much furniture, huh? Oh, I guess I could get the chair back there by the sewing machine...”

Viktor's in the middle of spinning pasta onto his fork, eyes hungrily devouring his bite before it's even reached his mouth. However, he pauses long enough to grin at the friend at his side and reply, “Worry not! This is perfectly cozy. The more the merrier, right?”

Phichit nods enthusiastically. “Couldn't have said it better myself!”

Without another moment to spare, the three of them dig in. The food is so delicious, no one feels the need to speak, at least not for a short while. The clinking of their forks against their plates does the talking for them. Once their bellies are nice and satisfied, that's when the words finally decide to come.

“... and everyone's pretty eager to see you,” Phichit's in the middle of speaking. “We didn't get to see much of you last time. Or the time before.” Theatrically, he winks in Yuuri's direction. “But we can forgive that.”

Yuuri deadpans, “Thank you for that.”

Viktor chuckles. “It'll be nice to see everyone else, too. It's not much, but I brought gifts for everyone.”

Phichit's expression lights up. “Oh, ho?”

Holding up a finger, Viktor replies, “You'll have to wait for it, though.”

“Aaaah, that figures. But that's okay,” Phichit says. “We all came up with a little gift for you, too.”

Leaning forward to look Phichit in the eye, Yuuri asks, “Wait, you did? You didn't mention this to me at all. When did you do this?”

Phichit simply mimes zipping his lips tightly shut.

Oh, great. Secrets again. It takes everything Yuuri has to just sigh and let it go, praying this won't be embarrassing to witness. Who honestly knows with his friends? A prank joke is just as likely as a serious one some days.

“How fun!” Viktor claps his hands together. “I can't wait to see it.”

Phichit beams. “Oh, you'll love it. I actually had a little help from a certain someone a while back in making it. We made sure it was nothing but perfect.”

“Ooh, sounds mysterious. This certain someone wouldn't happen to be back home, would he?”

Phichit shrugs. “Maybe, maybe not. I can't divulge all my secrets.”

Viktor nods, says nothing more.

They talk for a little while longer into the night, though it's hard not to notice the way Viktor sinks further and further into the couch, smiling but a touch quiet. It's not long before his head begins to loll to the side, resting heavily on Yuuri's shoulder. Given the late hour and how long he's been driving, Yuuri's not surprised by the fatigue finally catching up to him.

“Bedtime?” Yuuri asks.

Viktor doesn't respond.

Giving his shoulder a gentle shake, Yuuri asks again.

Viktor murmurs something, but it's lost in the long yawn that follows closely behind it.

Phichit makes a fond face at the two of them, the same face he makes at his hamsters when they do something especially cute. “Aww. Poor guy. Need help carrying him to bed?”

“Ha, maybe...”

Between the two of them, they get Viktor up and off the couch and guide him down the hallway to Yuuri's bedroom. Although it's a short distance, Viktor seems to wake up a bit more once he's on his feet. After another yawn, he bats his lashes at Yuuri and asks, “Can I shower first? I feel kinda gross from sitting in a car all day long. I promise I won't fall asleep under the water.”

“Sure,” Yuuri says. As if he could ever say no, even without the extra bit of flirting tacked on. “Let me set everything up for you.”

Viktor squeezes Yuuri's hand. “Thank you. I'll be quick.”

While Viktor spends his time in the shower, Yuuri busies himself with preparing his bedroom (and himself) for the night. The sheets were freshly changed this morning, the pillows have been fluffed, and he's dug out an extra thick blanket to help keep them extra warm through the winter night. As he tugs out the top corners of each layer, Yuuri can feel how nice and inviting his bed feels. Perfect for some late night cuddling, he hopes.

In the moment Viktor rushed into his arms, Yuuri felt just how close he needs to be with him right now. He's been a little on edge all day, waiting for Viktor to finally show up. The way his whole body relaxed the second Viktor was there in his embrace should be studied. Is it possible to hug someone so hard they melt into you and become one? It almost feels like he could find out. He let go for practicality's sake – kinda hard to walk up a hundred floors in a permanent hug – but he's aching to rectify that mistake at once.

Is that embarrassing? Does he care?

The thing is, he knows Viktor's here. Safe and sound, refreshing himself under the shower spray like problems haven't been raining down on them for a long time... but some part of Yuuri still feels like there's still more to worry about. His nerves tingle in anticipation for it, but how much of that is his own “normal” anxiety and how much is a reaction to genuine threats, he can't tell. After the past couple of weeks, hell, even after their Halloween streaming night, being apart from Viktor has only felt harder. Sometimes, even more dangerous. It's not enough just to have Viktor here in his arms. However, if you ask Yuuri what else he needs to feel more secure in the moment, like the rug isn't about to be thrust out from beneath his feet again, he wouldn't have an answer.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Yuuri does his best not to feel on edge.

It's been a long couple of weeks, but things are better now. Aren't they?

Eventually the showerhead in the bathroom turns off. Yuuri waits on his phone, scrolling mindlessly through his social media accounts to occupy his otherwise overactive mind. Guang Hong and Leo messaged the group chat a short while ago, welcoming Viktor back to the state. Viktor liked the comments and thanked them but has been otherwise inactive. On Instagram, Sara posted a selfie of her and Sara out on a date from the other night, the two of them dolled up with matching glittery eyeshadow and brightly coloured lips that look pristine in the intense club lighting. They look phenomenal, as usual. It makes Yuuri's skin tingle with the urge to dress up extravagantly as well.

He's in the middle of messaging her to ask what brand the eyeshadow, curious if it's a brand he's familiar with, is when he realizes it's been a several minutes... and Viktor still hasn't come back.

He's probably taking his time, Yuuri reasons. Even as his ears listen for any slight noise that might escape from the bathroom and make its way down towards his room.

He thinks he hears the door – but is it only his imagination?

Yuuri scrolls some more, telling himself it's nothing, Viktor's likely in the kitchen grabbing a quick drink or saying goodnight to the poodles... But such suspicions disappear the second he hears voices conversing back and forth. The hushed, private sort that intends to keep other listeners at bay.

Is he talking to Phichit? But what would Viktor need to be secretive about?

Whatever it is, it must be important. Which is why he should sit, be good, and wait for Viktor to come back. His boyfriend is simply being respectful of the hour and the fact they have neighbours asleep in their own beds. That's all. Yuuri should be respectful back and hold tight until they're done.

Except, he gently puts down the phone.

Yuuri's traitorous legs have already brought him to his bedroom door. It's partially closed, with only the faintest crack between it and the frame. Holding his breath, Yuuri listens as carefully as he can for even a single word to break the invisible barrier.

Faintly, he thinks he hears Viktor first.

“... something important. Is that okay?”

Phichit's reply is a touch clearer than Viktor's, sounding very much like this is part of a normal conversation and not a hidden in the dead of night. “Sure. What's up?”

Viktor's voice is still quiet, a touch muffled, but Yuuri is able to make out the words “stop”
and “Chris”?

Wait, stop what?

Frowning, Yuuri grips the edge of his door and tries to listen even harder.

There's a long pause, completely uncharacteristic of Phichit, who always has something to say even during the wildest of conversations. So little takes his friend off guard, but he appears to have been this time. The tension seeping in between the crack of the door is so thick, Yuuri has a hard time believing anyone out there in the hallway is able to even breathe through it, let alone carry a whole conversation.

Then, clear as crystal, he hears Phichit reply, “He put you up to this, huh?”

Viktor's voice is crisper this time, too. “No. I offered. He was hesitant to even let me ask you.”

“Uh huh.” Another long, uncomfortable pause. “It's... complicated.”

“Too complicated to talk to him about it?”

“... Okay. What do you want?”

“Nothing. I'm simply curious.”

“Uh huh. No offense, because I really don't wanna be that guy, but if you're going to bring this up, you might as well have a point with it. This isn't exactly a fun conversation to be having.”

“I get that. I don't necessarily want you to do anything, especially not something you're uncomfortable with.”

“So what do you want?”

Viktor says, “I want my friend to be happy.”

“... Wow. Ouch. I'm not trying to make him unhappy. I just...”

Despite the growing defensiveness, Viktor's voice is soft and compassionate as he replies, “I know. I think he knows that, too. I just wanted to say he's been thinking of you.”

What does he mean? I thought they were friends. Yuuri leans so close against his door, desperate to hear more, it lets out the fainest of creaks. He freezes, his heart stopping in his chest – but neither Viktor nor Phichit appear to have noticed the subtle intrusion. They carry on.

Phichit releases a long sigh. “I mean...”

Voice lowering once more, Viktor says, “I'm not trying to make you feel bad, but if you have no interest in talking to him again... I think he'd rather know that sooner than later.”

“It's not like that.” Another sigh. “At least, I don't want it to be like that.”

“I didn't think so, but...”

“... You should go back to Yuuri, he's probably still up waiting on you.”

“All right. Good night?”

“Yeah... good night.”

Eyes widening, Yuuri stumbles backwards from his door, rushing backwards towards his bed in the hopes that he can look as nonchalant and unobtrusive as possible. The bed is still bouncing from the sudden weight of him slamming into the edge of it when Viktor steps into the room.

Viktor blinks at him, then smiles. He closes the door behind him.

“Hi, Yuuri.”

Uneasily, Yuuri smiles back. “H-Hi.”

Viktor tilts his head. Something about his expression feels too perceptive, maybe even faintly amused. “Been waiting long?”

Yuuri swallows. “Not too long.”

“I see. Is there room for one more?”

Shimmying back to make more room for Viktor, Yuuri replies, “Always will be.”

Viktor's lashes lower as he gazes at Yuuri from across the room. He flicks the main light off, leaving them in the dark. Yuuri's hand reaches for the lamp on the nightstand, but Viktor's softly commands, “It's okay. Leave it off. I can see just fine.”

Suddenly tingling all over, Yuuri silently obeys.

The bed dips as Viktor's knee sinks into the mattress. He climbs in with ease, rolling onto his side and pressing the length of him along Yuuri's body. All at once, Yuuri feels much warmer. His bed isn't the largest to begin with; they were pressed together pretty tightly the last time Viktor visited, making use of every inch of space they had to fit them and occasionally Vicchan. It sounds uncomfortable in theory, but Yuuri really enjoyed it at the time. They all fit together perfectly, like puzzle pieces finally finding their rightful spot in the bigger picture. At least, when they were getting along. It felt a little tense and strange at times when their communication was at its worst...

This time... it feels perfect again. Viktor's warmth melting through the layer of clothes separating them, his familiar scent a calming balm to everything that ails, a further reminder that Viktor is here and his for another period of time. One that he foolishly hopes never ends.

His heart calms in his chest. It feels exactly like everything Yuuri needs.

When Viktor speaks, his voice so quiet yet intimate in Yuuri's dark bedroom that it immediately reminds him of when it was a distant voice in his ears through his phone, guiding his body through the gift of pleasure. It takes everything Yuuri has to keep himself from full body shuddering.

Damn it. Does he really need to be that needy right now?

“Yuuri?”

Cheeks warming, Yuuri whispers back, “Yes?”

“How much did you hear?”

“Um...”

“It's okay,” Viktor assures him. “Was just curious.”

“Well... I heard some things...”

“Mn.”

“... But I have no idea what you were talking about.”

Viktor exhales an amused sounding, “Okay.”

“Really!”

“I believe you.”

“Sorry. I couldn't help myself. I was starting to worry.” Yuuri studies the line of Viktor's silhouette in the dark. It's hard to see much, his heavy curtains blocking out the night sky outside. He could almost swear he were lying beside a shadow if it weren't for the fact that he could reach out and touch Viktor's face.

Suddenly worried, he does so. Viktor's really here, isn't he?

His hand finds Viktor's face in the dark. His skin is hot against Yuuri's palm, soft and yet well defined. Striking to the eye, wondrous still even when discovered by touch alone. Sometimes it's hard to believe that he's allowed to touch, that Viktor expects such a thing.

He feels Viktor cup his own hand over his, holding Yuuri firmly in place.

“What were you talking about?” Yuuri dares to ask.

Viktor gives a small shake of his head.

“Sorry,” Yuuri apologizes again.

“I don't know much,” Viktor gently clarifies. “So there really isn't much to tell. I was doing Chris a favour. I owe him at least twenty at this point. I don't know if I actually helped at all, but I hope it did something. I don't like seeing him sad. Then again... Phichit looked sad, too.”

Phichit? Sad? Yuuri's certain he's never seen his friend anywhere close to such an emotion. Not someone so naturally sunny and lighthearted. The realization sits heavy in his chest, makes him wonder if maybe he's missed something that's always existed all along. “Oh...”

He feels more than sees Viktor smiling, the corner of his lips spreading wide against the swell of Yuuri's palm. “I'm sure things will be fine. Maybe there'll be a Christmas miracle.”

“Yeah... maybe.”

Viktor inhales, long and slow, and exhales deeply. “Thank you for waiting on me.”

“No problem.”

“I'm sorry I took so long.”

“You didn't.” It's not anyone's fault, he almost says. But he's not entirely sure what he's referring to, anymore.

He can feel the faint flutter of Viktor's lashes against the tips of his fingers as he blinks slowly at Yuuri. Viktor stretches long and hard, lets out a small, satisfied grunt. His hand leaves Yuuri's, but happily finds its place on Yuuri's waist instead, where it burns through Yuuri's sleep shirt.

“I'm so tired.”

“From the drive?”

Viktor yawns. “Sure.”

It feels like they're sitting on a mountain of things to say between them, staring out from the peak with no easy way down. Knowing this, Yuuri feels safer having Viktor here with him, rather than being stuck up here all by himself. Even if he still blames himself for getting up here in the first place.

He can make it okay, but only if he can get Viktor can on stable ground.

Wetting his lips, Yuuri begins to say, “Viktor, I know things have been hard, but...”

He trails off when a brand new sound interrupts him.

Baffled, he realizes Viktor is snoring.

Wait. Viktor snores? Since when?

Baffled, it's all Yuuri can do but stare and take in this new side of his boyfriend he was previously unaware of.

Wow. You weren't kidding, he thinks, biting his lip against the small laugh that wishes to escape. Viktor's always been one to fall asleep relatively quickly, but never that fast. It's all right, though. There'll be time to talk later, when they're both ready. They have more time than normal. Yuuri will make sure everything will be all right, one way or another. He doesn't know if he has the power to make that a reality – but he can feel deeply inside how much he can and shall will that into being.

With a light kiss pressed to Viktor's forehead, Yuuri closes his eyes and curls protectively around his partner, as if to shield him from any and all nightmares that may continue threaten his peace.

Chapter Text

Yuuri jerks awake in the middle of the night.

Heart pounding, he clutches tightly at the blanket cocooning him, attempting to remember when and where he is.

Slowly, he recalls what happened.

He was somewhere pleasant. Surrounded in a familiar warmth his heart wanted to hold onto forever. Then, he began to hear the sound of someone speaking to him from afar. The voice drew closer, it began to surround him, so close and yet seemingly unattached to anyone or anything tangible. Yuuri recalls spinning around, trying to find its owner, only to become more and more disoriented as the voice shifts in pitch and tone, fluidly becoming someone else with no clear beginning or ending between them, at times even sounding like more than one person. Faces appeared... but he wasn't able to make out anything beyond vague shadows and light contouring their strange shapes. He could only grasp that this strangely omniscient and inescapable presence knew Yuuri better than he did himself, and they were pleased about that fact.

It was far from a consoling feeling. If anything, it felt claustrophobic.

But most disconcertingly, these voices were all saying the same word. Over and over again, with increasing relief and fondness, until it was beating wildly in Yuuri's head like his anxious and afraid heart often did. Only one word, exhaled like a breath of relief, a breath held too long.

Finally.

Then, suddenly, the voice started to sound like scratching. Like nails in wood, like claws digging in his ears.

That's when Yuuri woke up, and he realized he'd been dreaming.

Except, the sound is still here. Still scratching urgently, begging for acknowledgement like its dying for it.

It takes several blinks worth of time to clear his mind, but quickly enough Yuuri understands what is really happening.

Climbing out of the sheets and blankets twisted around him and Viktor, Yuuri stumbles towards his closed bedroom door where the sound emits itself. When he cracks it open, he looks down and meets four big eyes staring up at him. High pitched whining follows.

“Seriously?” Yuuri whispers down at the two poodles.

Vicchan hops up on his hind legs, using his front paws to lean against Yuuri's leg. He licks fiercely at his lips. Beside him, Makkachin's tail wags hopefully, and she shifts her weight impatiently from one paw to the other.

Yuuri sighs. Of course. It's his fault for not caring for them once more before retiring for the night. It's likely too early to feed them, there's no way it's anywhere near normal breakfast hours, but the least he can do is take them outside for a few minutes. “Okay, okay... let me get my shoes.”

He tries to make the trip quick. It's cold outside. Yuuri's breath is a constant cloud puffing from between his lips, only to disappear as quickly as they come. He shivers in his thick winter coat and thin pajamas while Makkachin and Vicchan do their business. Naturally, they take their time, sniffing and investigating to find the right place to do said business. It's only after Yuuri harps on them from afar to hurry up that they finally finish, rushing back to him and the door he holds open for them.

Great. Time to climb a bajillion stairs to get back to bed...

Once back inside, the two of them eye the kitchen, where the food bowls lay waiting, but Yuuri ignores their “subtle” hints to trudge back to his bedroom. Instead of continuing the pity fest, they follow after his heel.

Yuuri considers closing the door to give him and Viktor some continued privacy – but one last look at their faces has his responsible dog owner walls crumbling.

He whispers, “Fine, fine. But you gotta be quiet. Okay? No more noise.”

Vicchan flies past the doorway, already hopping eagerly at the side of the bed. Like habit, Yuuri picks him up and lands him on the mess of blankets above.

Makkachin eyes the bed as well, looking back and forth between it and Yuuri like she's asking permission.

Yuuri stares back, at a loss.

Is there enough room? Maybe? I don't want to wake Viktor up, though... But it's too late now. He can't let Vicchan up but not her. It wouldn't be right. There's no way Viktor would be happy about that, either. Leaving Makkachin out while the three of them cuddle to sleep. Hopefully they can do this without too much disturbance...

After some awkward hoisting, Makkachin's up on the bed. Vicchan immediately hops towards his normal place between both pillows, nestling in beside Viktor's buried face. Meanwhile, Makkachin investigates the more spacious end of the bed, her nose booping where her owner's feet hide beneath the blanket.

The commotion has Viktor stirring, his sleepy head lifting off the pillow. His eyes barely squint open. “Mrngh?”

“Sorry,” Yuuri whispers. “It's just the poodles. Go back to sleep.”

“Mmnn...” Without any preamble, Viktor's head drops back down a soft thud. He mumbles something into the pillow, but he doesn't seem interested in repeating himself.

Trying not to laugh, Yuuri snuggles back under the covers. His feet brush by Viktor's leg by accident. Viktor immediately flinches.

“Cold!” Viktor hisses, that word as crisp as the temperature outside.

He should feel bad. But it's kinda funny. Only a little, though. “Oops. My bad.”

Viktor's head rolls so he can squint up at Yuuri in the dark.

Doing his best to keep a straight face, Yuuri makes himself comfortable. He pulls the blankets back over both of them, making sure to tug them all the way up to their ears. “Better?”

“Yeah...”

In apology, Yuuri brushes his hand over the top of Viktor's hair in an attempt to smooth some of it down. “Sleep now.”

Just like that, Viktor's out again.

Yuuri watches him for a while, his mind far too awake to follow Viktor into lalaland. Normally he's alone at this hour, but tonight he's hyper aware of every point of his body that touches someone else. Vicchan against his chest, Makkachin at his legs and feet, the odd points of Viktor that brush against him in the places neither dog takes up. Even the air around him is filled with brand new sounds, three of the four of them sleeping or resting soundly. Not quite cinematic perfection – Vicchan snorts, Viktor snores, Makkachin tail wags so hard it thumps against his and Viktor's feet like the ball in sped up version of a classic game of pong.

By all accounts, this should all be incredibly distracting.

Somehow, it's anything but.

Yuuri's bed feels so full, like if he even tries to take up anymore space for himself, he'll just fall onto the floor. Only instead of constantly feeling like he's on the edge, waiting for the inevitable, he's actually one part of a giant cuddle pile. Their natural warmth seeps through the blankets into him, their sounds reminds him he's not by himself, and the way everyone slots together so perfectly, like they were all meant to be here all along...

Yuuri closes his eyes, at peace for the first time in what seems like forever.

-

Surprisingly, he's the first to rise once morning has finally arrived.

The bed is an absolute mess. All four of them, human and dog alike, are sprawled everywhere, taking up every inch of the bed and then some. One of Yuuri's legs half hangs off the bed, his bare foot cold compared to the rest of him. One arm is flown over both Viktor and Makkachin, the latter of the two sliding in between the two of them Vicchan-style at some point during the night. Only halfway, as Vicchan still commandeers the top half of the bed, nestled against Yuuri and Viktor's heads. The second Yuuri cracks open his eyes, he feels more than sees Makkachin and Vicchan rise simultaneously.

Riiiiight. Food time.

Beside him, a weary voice rises from the mess of blankets. “Mnnnn... Yuuri...”

Checking his phone, Yuuri scrubs the remaining sleep from his eyes. “Mornin'. It's only eight. I'll take care of them if you want to keep sleeping.”

Viktor yawns. “Maybe... one more minute...”

“One more minute? Not, like, five?” Yuuri says, amused. But Viktor doesn't answer, already long gone.

Once the humour begins to wear off, Yuuri feels his smile slowly slip away.

It's not like him to want to sleep in... He must be really tired.

Best to leave him be, then. It's not like they have to be anywhere for quite a while. His family don't expect them to arrive until dinner time at the latest, and that's still most of the day away. The more rest Viktor can sneak in before they have to head out for the big moment, the better.

Just thinking of Viktor and his family finally meeting makes Yuuri feel like he can vibrate out of his skin. It's excitement, isn't it? He hopes so.

In any case, he's distracted from the hopefully-not-nerves when he suddenly feels a wet tongue lapping at his jaw.

“Ah, Vicchan!”

His poodle leans in for some more licks that Yuuri can hardly dodge, given his current position. He's “safe” when he sits up. Once he does, however, he alerts the second dog in his bed that it's now officially Morning Time.

The second Yuuri pulls back the covers to get out, both dogs make for the edge of the bed. Makkachin jumps down with no issue, her tongue hanging out her mouth as she stares back up at the edge of the bed where Vicchan waits. He knows better than to copy her, far too small to make the leap safely, so he waits patiently for Yuuri to pick him up and let him down carefully on the floor.

That's all the waiting Vicchan will do, though. The moment his tiny paws touch the carpet, he bounds off through the open door and goes straight for the kitchen. Makkachin bounds after him, leaving Yuuri in the dust.

Halfway to the kitchen, Yuuri realizes Viktor likely hasn't left any of Makkachin's food out. Or her own food and water bowl. Viktor briefly mentioned over text feeding Makkachin on the road, assuring Yuuri she was well taken care of, but she only had a few treats between arrival and now, so she must be very hungry.

He briefly considers waking Viktor to ask where her stash is – then decides against it. He gets the feeling Viktor won't likely wake for a while longer, even if he gently shook Viktor's shoulder.

“Hope you're not a picky eater,” Yuuri says to the larger poodle as he digs out Vicchan's bag of kibble. As far as he's witnessed Makkachin's nowhere near one, but you never know when it comes to actual meals and not stealth snacks snuck under the dining table.

At a loss for an actual food or water bowl, Yuuri makes do with two old small margarine containers he keeps around more out of habit than any specific use. (Hey, you never know. Like old Christmas cookie tins that eternally deceive young children, these are great for random, tiny sewing and cosplay materials.) He quickly cleans them from any lingering dust or dirt, then fills it the same way he does Vicchan's bowls. Once the four offerings are ready, Yuuri stands back.

Vicchan digs in immediately, loudly crunching his food like a ravenous creature that has never been fed once in his poor life. (Citation is strongly needed.)

Makkachin sniffs her portion – then goes to town as well, apparently happy with this morning's special.

Oh, good. One less thing to worry about, as if Yuuri needs more of those. Now, breakfast for the humans...

-

After a generous helping of coffee to get his body going, Yuuri finally starts his and Viktor's first meal of the day. Something simple, but hopefully satisfying. He whips up a batch of pancake batter, sprinkled throughout with bright blueberries, and gets a frying pan of thick cut bacon going. While the latter sizzles, Yuuri prepares a larger pan for the pancakes.

He's in the middle of downing the last of his coffee while the fourth pancake turns hot and fluffy when he hears footsteps behind him. Ah, he knows what's about to happen. How can he not? Feeling mischievous this morning, Yuuri spins around before Viktor can catch him unaware, ready to surprise him instead.

He's still totally unprepared for how close Viktor actually is, and how tightly he's pulled into an all-consuming embrace. His face bumps against Viktor's shoulder, his hands hovering useless in the air until he's able to collect himself and return the open affection.

Well, so much for that.

Voice muffled, Yuuri says, “Good morning. I thought you were still asleep.”

“I got up?” Viktor jokes.

“I mean, it's you here, right?”

“Hmm. Could be. Want to check and see?”

What a funny thing to say. Yuuri pulls back to say as such, but the words fall away as his chin is taken between a thumb of forefinger and his face is guided upwards, straight into inviting warmth.

Yuuri's eyes close the second their lips meet, his heart fluttering pleasantly in his chest.

They part not long after. Foreheads pressed together, Viktor says, “It occurred to me I didn't properly greet to you last night. I'm sorry for the wait.”

Yuuri replies, “That's okay. I probably don't taste all that great right now. I just drank a pretty big cup of coffee...”

“Neither do I,” Viktor says, even though he tastes distinctly of mint toothpaste. Even his skin smells fresh and clean, like it's been washed in the past couple of minutes. Wait, he knows that scent. It's my soap, Yuuri realizes. The thought of something he uses regularly settling so intimately Viktor's skin, invisibly marking the two of them as the same, does something strange and wonderful to Yuuri's brain. Not that he should be surprised Viktor took the time to freshen up before rising for the day. That feels more like him than sleeping in even just a little bit longer than normal.

It's one more reminder that his Viktor is here, and not too far away for his hands to reach.

Viktor's hand caresses Yuuri's chin, the touch reverent, like he almost can't believe he's here, either. Yuuri's breath quivers out of him as he says, “It's okay. I don't care.”

“Well, neither do I.”

Just like that, they're kissing again.

But only for a second. Placing his hand on Viktor's chest, Yuuri gently pushes him back. Viktor looks at him, momentarily confused, but Yuuri simply smiles.

“One second.” He turns to quickly flip the pancake on the stove – it comes away from the surface smooth, perfect, revealing the golden underside once it's been turned. Happy with the outcome, Yuuri sets the spatula aside and turns back around. “There we go. Where were we? You've got at least thirty seconds.”

Viktor grins, and then takes what is his.

Yuuri's utterly lost in wet tongue and plush lips when he's startled by the sound of a loud gasp. He and Viktor break apart in an instant, shocked back to reality. Yuuri just about bangs his back against the edge of the stove; the spatula tumbles off the holder from the sudden force, clattering against the ceramic glass top.

“Ah!” they hear again. “Mom and dad are making out in the kitchen! My poor, virgin eyes!”

Face ablaze, Yuuri stumbles out, “P-Phichit! Not funny!”

His roommate stands in the doorway of the kitchen, hands dramatically covering his face like a kid who caught his parents being slightly naughty while no one else is around to witness them. Only his fingers are spread wide, barely covering his eyes where it actually matters.

Hands lowering, Phichit sticks his tongue out. “Hey, someone had to say it. It's a rite of passage.”

Yuuri makes a face. “No, someone doesn't have to.” That's a “rite of passage” he can do without, thank you.

(At least it's only his best friend and not his sister, though. Oh, God. He'd never hear the end of it.)

Unbothered, Viktor waves like this is all very normal to him. “Good morning!”

Phichit glances Viktor's way, but his eyes fly away almost as fast. “Good morning. Is that breakfast I smell?”

Shaking off the stress of a sudden intrusion, Yuuri nods. “Pancakes. Want some?”

“Sure. The unburnt ones, please.”

“They're not – ” Yuuri's eyes fly wide open. Spinning around, he flips the pancake in the pan out and onto the plate beside the stove. Damn it. One side perfect, the other too dark to be very tasty. That figures. He was so careful!

“At least it's not my fault this time,” Viktor comments.

Yuuri groans.

“This time?” Phichit asks, sounding far too innocent.

Yuuri shakes his head. “Let's not...”

Phichit, wisely, complies.

-

Once breakfast and several more cups of coffee have been consumed, Yuuri and Viktor go about their day. With nowhere to be for quite some time and the trip to Ann Arbor much, much shorter compared the one Viktor made the day before, they spend their morning in leisure. They cuddle on the couch – Makkachin and Vicchan joining them not long after they've curled their legs up and gotten comfy under a blanket – and watch TV. Nothing in particular, whatever they feel could be interesting.

They only half pay attention anyway.

How can he fully pay attention when Viktor's breath is practically in Yuuri's ear? The way Viktor rests his head on Yuuri's shoulder is comfy, but also quite ticklish, enough to make Yuuri squirm here and there while attempting to withhold a giggle.

“Ooh, trying to escape?” Viktor jokes. The arm around Yuuri's waist tightens. “Well, too bad. I'm not letting you go anywhere.”

Leaning his head against Viktor's, Yuuri says, “Nah. Too cozy to leave.”

“Mmn. It is very cozy here.”

“Wait until I introduce you to my family's kotatsu. You'll never want to leave.”

Viktor hums. Says in a quiet voice. “As if I'd ever want to leave.”

Yuuri reaches a hand beneath the blanket to squeeze over the one holding his waist.

He hears noise behind them. A glance over his shoulder reveals it's Phichit puttering around the kitchen. The sink spouts water, the dishes clatter as he begins to ready them for a good cleaning.

Despite his earlier words, Yuuri makes to get up. “I can get those.”

“Don't worry about it,” Phichit replies from the other room. “You're cuddling. And you made breakfast. I'll get them.”

“Oh... well...”

“Actually,” Viktor says, shifting suddenly beside Yuuri, “that coffee is going right through me – I'll be right back.”

“Okay.” Shuffling over so Viktor can get out of their mountain of couch cushions and their giant blanket, Yuuri watches Viktor stroll towards the bathroom down the hallway. It's not until the door has firmly closed that Yuuri notices Phichit has been staring at him the whole time, his expression strangely flat and unreadable. It's actually a little unsettling, like something uncanny has possessed his friend. The intense stare drags on for so long, it makes Yuuri want to hide more under the blanket.

“What?” he asks, a defensive edge to his voice.

For a moment there's only the hush of the water coming out of the faucet. Then Phichit shakes his head.

“Nothing,” he says. “Just... wondering how you make it look so easy.”

“Make what look easy?”

“You. Him. Everything.”

The entire last half of this year practically flashes behind Yuuri's eyes. This has to be some sort of joke. “This looks easy?”

Phichit frowns. “Isn't it?”

“No,” Yuuri says, baffled.

“But you look happy...”

“I am happy.”

“You're happy, but it's also hard?”

Only half understanding where this is coming from, Yuuri's at a loss for what to say. Does it sound bad to say 'yes'? It's the truth, but somewhere, somehow, it feels like a trick question to agree about any of that. “I dunno. It's both. But it's worth it.”

Phichit's confused face mirrors Yuuri's. Neither of them seem to know how to continue the conversation – or if they even want to. They're at a strange stand still.

The bathroom door opens. Viktor lets out a relieved sigh as he wanders back to the living room. “Much better! Probably shouldn't have had two cups back to back. Yuuuuriiiiii! Did you save my seat?”

“Right here,” Yuuri says, smiling up at his boyfriend as Viktor flops back down beside him. Viktor immediately snuggles right back in, as if he never left in the first place. Both arms wrap around Yuuri's waist this time, and Viktor practically throws his legs over Yuuri's lap. As much as he can without disturbing the poodles, anyway.

Viktor makes a happy sound. “Yuuri, let's watch something fun.”

“Okay,” Yuuri agrees. He hands Viktor the PS4 controller, their guide through Netflix's eternally changing roster. He's sure what they actually want won't be there, but there'll be something to fill the space. “You pick.”

Viktor finds something. A movie neither of them have ever seen, but with an entertaining enough promo to catch their attention.

A minute or two into the movie, Yuuri glances behind him again to see if Phichit is still there, but he sees only a clean, empty kitchen and a closed bedroom door down the hallway.

-

Viktor stands in Yuuri's room with a grave expression on his face. His eyes narrow, and his lips thin into a serious line.

“Now the hardest question of all... what to wear?”

“Anything's fine,” Yuuri informs his boyfriend as Viktor goes through his luggage for “the best outfit” for meeting Yuuri's family. He's on the bed, legs criss-crossed, sitting just far away enough to not disturb any of the possible outfit combinations Viktor as sprawled across the duvet. They all look like normal clothes to him. Sensible shirts and pants, comfortable sweaters. No holes or stains, no ragged edges. They all practically look brand new, even though Yuuri has most definitely seen many of these in selfies over the past couple of months.

It's kind of funny how intensely he recreates flashy and eye-catching outfits from various anime an video games... and yet, when it comes to real life, Yuuri's okay with whatever. So long as he's not naked.

“This is serious,” Viktor says. Turning towards Yuuri, he adds, “This is very serious. This is a first impression, Yuuri. And you only get one of those.”

“My parents are very forgiving,” Yuuri says. His sister, on the other hand, will roast Viktor forever if she feels like it. But that's what elder siblings are for. Or so he is told on an bi-annual basis. (He suspects it's bullshit, but who knows.)

“That's great, but that doesn't change the circumstances. Yuuri.” Hand on his chest, Viktor drops his voice to a dramatic low. “They could be my in-laws one day.”

Yuuri's throat instantly goes dry.

He never thought of it like that, before.

(He's also never thought about marriage, either. But Viktor apparently has.)

Yuuri's belly flutters, but is it butterflies of excitement or fear? He feels like a fool for being so relaxed earlier today when something so big and momentous is right around the corner, waiting for them both with huge claws to dig in with if it all goes wrong. How is Viktor so calm right now?! At least Yuuri know his family and what they're like. Even if he fucks up – and he has fucked up, many, many times – they still forgive him and politely overlook his mistakes. Viktor only knows what he's been told. All good things. What else is there to say? But how he actually gets along with everyone – they won't find out until it's happening.

Like cresting the top of a roller coaster that hugs the top of the sky, it'll be much too late to go back once they start tilting steeply towards the ground. There's only letting it happen, whether he's ready for it or not.

Is he ready?

“Yuuri?” Viktor's brow furrows. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri says, voice a touch high. It makes him wince.

“Are you sure? You look a little...”

“Mmhmm.”

Viktor looks down at the folded sweater in his hands. A nice, royal blue. It brings out the cool tone of his eyes and hair in such a way that it's hard to look away from. But Viktor sets the sweater aside for the moment, smiling at Yuuri like he's found all the answers they'll ever need for their rising problems. “Help me pick something. I trust your taste.”

Time doesn't feel real right now, let alone Yuuri's own flesh and blood body. He may as well be a hazy cloud right now that can dissipate with a single breeze. His voice feels far away, even from him. “You do?”

“Of course! You've seen me in clothes and completely naked. You'll be a good judge of what will look nice on me.”

The comment knocks Yuuri out of his floating, fearful detachment hard enough, it almost feels like being smacked with it. He's right back in his body, and he's hot all over with embarrassment. “Huh?!”

“What?” Viktor says. “It's true.”

“Yeah, but – ”

“You stare at me enough to know how I look.”

“V-Viktor!”

His boyfriend chuckles. “Don't worry, I take it as a compliment. I like it when you pay attention to me. I'd probably hog it if I didn't think it'd scare you off.”

Perhaps it's too honest to say, but Yuuri says it anyway. “It wouldn't scare me off.”

Viktor's smile softens. “Maybe. But we can't be that couple in front of your folks. At least, not on the first day. So! Help me make a less concerning impression on them, hm? Please?”

Like there's any other answer?

At least this is a nice distraction. At least Viktor is smiling.

-

An hour later, the two of them start packing up their things for the short trip to Yuuri's home.

Viktor's things are already set to go; it's not difficult to cram the few things he's used over the course of less than twenty-four hours back into his luggage. Most of Yuuri's things were packed a few days ago, but there are a few odds and ends he has to grab, like his toothbrush and other hygiene related things. It takes all of ten minutes before they both feel confident they have everything.

(And, hey, if they don't, there's always a Meijer they can stop at to rescue them on their wintry vacation.)

Phichit watches them from the living room. His hamster, Arthur, balances on his usual spot on his owner's shoulder. Phichit strokes his tiny head while Yuuri and Viktor grab the poodles and leash them up. It's been hours since Yuuri has seen or heard anything from him, which is unusual for someone so bubbly and outgoing, but in the chaos of trying to prepare for their trip, it almost goes unnoticed.

Almost.

“Want help bringing everything down?” Phichit asks, eyeing the three luggage cases and the two excited poodles. Leash-time means adventure time, which means a “fun” time getting them down the stairs while lugging everything else along with them.

“That'd be great,” Viktor replies before Yuuri has a chance to. “Even if you just get these two stinkers down to the car, that would be a world of help. Less trips up and down those stairs, right?”

Phichit salutes. “Say no more. Lemme put this little guy back in his cage and I'll get right on it.”

“Thank yooouuuu,” Viktor sing-songs after him.

“Are you sure we should bother him right now?” Yuuri asks Viktor once Phichit's disappeared into his bedroom.

Viktor freezes. “We're bothering him? He offered.”

Yuuri hesitates. “I guess...”

“He does seem a little... off,” Viktor admits after an uncomfortable pause.

Odd as it sounds, the confirmation gives Yuuri some relief. “So it's not just me? He's acting weird?”

“A bit. Is it my fault?”

“No,” Yuuri says, even though he's unsure if that's really true or not. How would he know? He (fortunately?) cannot read minds.

If he had to guess...

They did talk last night, and it didn't sound like a great conversation to be having. Phichit barely looked at Viktor this morning, too.

... Damn it.

But now's an even worse time to try and get to the bottom of things, let alone bring it up. The last thing he needs when he's struggling is for others to pry into his business. Especially two against one. Completely unfair. He can't do that to his friend, even if he means well.

Viktor goes tense as the same realization appears to dawn on him. “Shit. This is about last night, isn't it?”

“Not necessarily...”

Viktor winces. He clearly doesn't believe it, either.

“We can figure this out,” Yuuri says in lieu of outright panicking, because there is absolutely no time for that, “but not now. Let's give it a day or two. If he's really bothered, he'll say something, right? That's what people are always telling me. Phichit's not the type to sulk. At least, I don't think he is.”

Viktor makes a face. “Wow. Love the sound of that.”

Yuuri tries not to sigh. “Yeah, neither do I.”

If anything, even just saying those words aloud makes his own anxiety want to shout at him, “Really?! You're kidding me! Sort out a problem later when it could get even worse? You HATE that. Fix it now before I die!”

But he's had enough therapy for his generalized anxiety to know that the last thing he should be doing is getting involved in someone else's mess minutes before he has to drive Viktor to a whole other city. He has enough on his mind as it is. And what does he even know, anyway? He can't help! Phichit certainly doesn't look like he wants to talk about anything personal.

As bad as it sounds – it just is what it is.

At Viktor's own panicked look, Yuuri quickly grabs Viktor's shoulder and tells him, “You can apologize later. Later.”

Viktor looks like he wants to argue it, but the second they hear Phichit returning, Viktor slaps on his trademark charming smile and greets Yuuri's roommate like they haven't just been discussing him the whole time. “Welcome back! Ready to round up some poodles?”

Phichit nods. “You bet! I'll get my coat on and then you can hand me the reins.”

Smile firmly in place, Viktor replies, “Sounds good to me!”

It's so obvious, but no one says a thing.

-

After a quick couple of hugs, a wave farewell from Yuuri's roommate, and a triple check that everyone and everyone is in their place, they're finally off for their big adventure.

But first: fun drinks.

“Anything you're craving?” Yuuri asks as they hit the drive-thru of a local coffee shop.

“No more caffeine for me,” Viktor says beside him, “or else I'll be up all night. Do they have hot chocolate?”

Yuuri rolls down the window and is hit with the cold wintry air fighting against the heat inside the car. A couple of stray snowflakes flutter into his face, making him blink. “Naturally. Want fancy hot chocolate?”

“Ooh, yes please.”

Two candy cane hot chocolates it is, complete with homemade whipped topping with crushed green and red candy cane flakes across the top.

And, of course, two pup cups to match.

They stop briefly in the parking lot, laughing and catching a quick video of Makkachin and Vicchan lapping at their treats. Viktor giggles at the tongues flicking across his hands as he angles the cups for more efficient dining, looking between the two poodles and Yuuri with an expression that says, “Oh, my God, I could die happy right now.” Sadly, but not surprisingly, the cups don't last long. Makkachin and Vicchan lick their lips and look around as if to find more, but their owners can only offer them a quick pat on their heads as consolation.

“They'll be okay back there?” Viktor asks as they hit the road once more, now with their destination in mind. “Makka usually rides in the back, but what about Vicchan?”

“Vicchan's used to the front,” Yuuri says, “but he's got a friend back there now. Odds are they'll nap on the way. It is about an hour or so, give or take traffic.”

“An hour...” Viktor repeats. He looks out the window, falling quiet.

Yuuri's hands grip the steering wheel as those two words truly land on him like an anvil that's been falling from the sky this whole time.

An hour, and then the big moment.