Chapter Text
“Can anyone tell me what’s happened here?” Celestino holds up the torso, exposing the ripped flesh of its belly. It’s hollow inside, a gaping, cavernous mouth. The organs lie on the table, all of them covered in rotting pustules, hacked away from the body with a bloody butcher knife.
Yuuri shakes his head, feeling ill. He’s never been shy about corpses, but there’s something about this. His classmates murmur to each other all around him, eyes flitting to him then the bloodless body on the table.
“Another Ripper victim,” someone says, the voice coming from behind Yuuri.
Celestino nods. “And how did he die?”
“Yuuri didn’t get to him in time,” the voice says again.
Yuuri starts. He stares at the body on the table, suddenly aware of the familiar curve of his hip with the black birthmark on it, which he’d seen accidentally one morning while watching Victor pull up his bloomers over his chemise.
“I,” Yuuri gasps, “No, I saved him. This is wrong.”
“You failed, Yuuri,” the voice comes again, and when Celestino tilts the corpse’s face up Yuuri sees its mouth move, though the face is ripped and bloody. All that’s left are the bright blue eyes, stricken in terror. “You sent me away and he killed me.”
“No,” Yuuri pleads, “No, no, I didn’t-”
“Yuuri,” the corpse moans, its eyes rolling back in its sockets, “Yuuri-”
Yuuri jolts awake-
And finds himself staring into a pair of frightened, bright blue eyes.
Yuuri screams.
He writhes away from the sight of those eyes, tumbling in a tangle of sheets out of his bed and falling with a painful thump onto the wooden floor. All of his aches chime together in a chorus of pain, and Yuuri scrambles with the sheets at his neck, feeling them tightening like James’ hands around his throat.
“Yuuri!” Cries a voice from above him, “Yuuri, it’s alright-”
Someone rips the sheets away from him, wraps him in a loving embrace instead, and the sweet scent of cinnamon and ginger washes over him. Yuuri’s heartbeat slows, steadily, and his panic recedes, inhaling deeply as the night comes back to him.
That’s Victor behind him, Victor who is very much alive.
Yuuri whips around in Victor’s arms and takes his face in his hands, staring deeply into his blue eyes, which are concerned but not glassy and frozen in the last terrified moments of his life.
Victor blinks.
Yuuri bursts into tears.
“I’m sorry,” Yuuri sobs, resting his forehead into Victor’s chest, “I’m so, so sorry. It was such a horrible dream.”
“It wasn’t a dream,” Victor murmurs, a shudder rippling through his whole body.
“No,” Yuuri gasps, “I dreamed I was too late. That I was in class, and it was you on the table.” He stares up into Victor’s eyes, every bruise and cut clear at this close a distance. “And it would have been all my fault. Victor, I’m so, so sorry. I’ll say I’m sorry a hundred times, every day I know you for the rest of my life, and I’ll never be free of the guilt of what I almost did to you. It would have been all my fault.”
His voice breaks again and he buries his face in Victor’s chest. He almost wishes that Victor would push him away, tell him that he’s furious with him, because at least he’d feel like he deserved that. He doesn’t want Victor to stay with him because Yuuri is his only friend – not when Yuuri hurt him so badly.
Victor is silent for a long moment, though his arms never stop rubbing Yuuri’s back.
When he finally speaks, he says, “Yuuri – what happened that made you send the letter to me?”
“What?” Yuuri stammers, wiping at his eyes and looking up into Victor’s unreadable face. “No – no, that doesn’t matter, I should never have pushed you away.”
“Yuuri,” Victor says, soft but unyielding, “What happened to you?”
Victor deserves honesty. So Yuuri tells him everything – he’d showed up in heat to Victor’s apartment, but never explained why, not truly. Fully. Coherently. He does, now – tells him about the heat, about how he couldn’t get an extension.
Haltingly, the memory still making the bile rise in his throat, he tells him about his conversation with Doctor Berger. Being yelled at, being pushed up against the wall, how Doctor Berger used Victor as a cudgel with which to beat him back.
Victor flinches when he hears Doctor Berger’s name. When Yuuri finishes, Victor whispers, “I hate him. I hate him so, so much.”
Then he holds Yuuri tight and kisses his forehead.
“I should never have yelled at you,” Victor whispers, “I pushed you away too, after he hurt you.”
“It doesn’t matter what he said,” Yuuri whimpers. “I shouldn’t have-”
“But it does matter,” Victor cuts him off. “It matters how he treated you.”
“I don’t know if I can go back,” Yuuri cries, “Not after that. I think of his face, I hear his voice in the back of my head, and I feel sick.”
“Perhaps they’ll treat you better once they learn who solved the Ripper case.”
Yuuri’s eyes fly open as the night comes back to him. “Oh my god,” he gags, hit with a sudden wave of nausea, “Oh, I’ve never come so close to dying before, I can still feel his hands on my throat. Victor, Victor – I was almost too late.”
Victor doesn’t respond again, not for a long time.
“I,” he tries, and his voice catches in his throat. “I’m so glad someone was finally there for me. I thought-”
He doesn’t finish. His eyes fill with tears, though, and Yuuri wipes them away with his thumbs, careful of the bruising.
“I don’t care what anyone says,” Yuuri hisses, kissing Victor’s trembling lips. “I won’t – I won’t leave you. Unless.” He swallows, looking down. “Unless, I’d understand if you hate me. If you want me to-”
“Don’t you dare finish that thought,” Victor snarls, “Not after kissing me like that. You make me so, so happy, and the first time I thought I’d lost that I felt as though my heart was split in two. You – Yuuri, you are so worried about your own worth that you can’t see how much other people want to be with you. How much I want to be with you.”
“Oh,” Yuuri says.
“It hurt so terribly to get your letter,” Victor sobs. “But you saved me. No one’s ever wanted to protect me.”
“I always want to protect you,” Yuuri breathes. “I’ll protect you as long as you let me.”
Tears drip down Victor’s cheeks. “You saved my life,” he says, voice thick with tears.
“Oh,” Yuuri says again.
“I want you to kiss me again,” Victor sniffles.
“I can do that,” Yuuri stammers, leaning forward with so much enthusiasm he bumps Victor’s bruised nose, and Victor hisses in pain. “Oh! Sorry, sorry.”
“I’m sorry too,” Victor whispers.
Yuuri’s neck stings. His cheek stings. He feels raw, ragged – but at least Victor is safe. Kissing him like this, it’s easy to get lost in the sensation of his soft lips, his tongue, the way his teeth just barely graze Yuuri’s mouth. It’s easy to forget the horror of the night before, if only for a moment.
Yuuri nestles between Victor’s arms, listening to his thrumming heartbeat. The thump-thump of a beating heart, the warm tickle of breath against his ears, the gentle rise and fall of Victor’s chest – all signs that they’re both blessedly alive. Yuuri wants to drown in those sensations, let them wash over him until he’s no longer afraid.
At least, when he thinks of the night they stopped Jack the Ripper, it’ll be with Victor by his side.
There’s a knock on the apartment door.
Victor bolts up from where he’s lying on the couch, gripping his chest as though he’s in pain, a wild sort of fear in his eyes. They’re back at Victor’s apartment, where Yuuri plans to stay for the foreseeable future. It’ll be a while before classes start up again, before Yuuri has to figure out what to do, and he wants to spend every moment of it by Victor’s side.
Victor’s apartment is far nicer than his, anyway.
“It’s alright,” Yuuri soothes, going to peck Victor on the lips. “I’ll answer. You just lie back.”
“I’m,” Victor stammers, “I’m just, I mean, it’s the middle of the day, who would – I’m sure it’s fine.”
Yuuri knows very well what it’s like to be afraid like this. For him, the cold feeling will settle in his chest seemingly for no reason.
Kissing Victor does seem to help, though, for all their first kiss was because Victor didn’t know what to do because Yuuri was crying.
Yuuri opens the door.
Yakov stands there, looking more than a little frazzled.
“Ah,” he says, trying and failing to sound nonchalant. “Ah. I’d came to call earlier, but I suppose you were out.”
Yuuri nods, tentatively. He spares a glance back to Victor, who is staring fixedly at the ground, hands shaking. Victor bites his lip so hard it bleeds at the sound of Yakov’s voice.
“Yes,” Yuuri says, not moving to let Yakov through the door.
“I brought the candlesticks back,” Yakov continues, holding them out and looking disappointed when Yuuri takes them and not Victor. He shuffles from his left foot to his right, trying to edge past Yuuri. He wants to talk to Victor, but Yuuri doesn’t trust what he’ll say. From the expression on Victor’s face, he doesn’t trust him either.
Anger rushes through Yuuri, thinking of all the things Yakov had said to Victor when Victor was at his most vulnerable.
“Did you hear?” Yakov continues, a little louder. “They caught the man who called himself Jack the Ripper last night.”
“We know,” Yuuri says.
Victor’s eyes grow red and watery, and he whimpers from inside the apartment.
Yakov begins, “Victor-”
“Yakov,” Yuuri whispers, feeling the sting of guilt at the hurt expression on Yakov’s face. “Please. Not right now.”
“I,” Yakov says, his soft voice clashing oddly with his grizzled expression, “But – alright. I. If Victor needs anything, tell him.” He takes a deep breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “Tell him – well. You both know – nevermind.”
Yuuri nods, curtly, and shuts the door. He hopes that what he said made Yakov reconsider how he treats Victor. Once he finds out what happened, maybe Yakov will have some sympathy. Maybe Victor can have family beyond what his mother writes to him and Yuuri tries to give him.
“Are you alright?” Yuuri asks, kneeling in front of Victor.
Victor nods, wiping at his eyes and sniffling pitifully.
“I didn’t know what he would say to me,” he whispers.
Yuuri takes his hands, kissing his knuckles.
“I understand,” he murmurs.
“I just,” Victor bites his lip, looking away with tears in his eyes. “I just, I wanted him to care about me, but he’s so angry with me all the time. I didn’t want him to tell me it was my fault this happened.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Yuuri says, insistent. “It wasn’t.”
Victor shrugs like he doesn’t really believe him. Yuuri dabs at his eyes with a handkerchief. Every time he meets Victor’s gaze now, he thinks of the nightmare he had, them open wide and dead, no light of life shimmering in them.
He shudders.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Yuuri says again, wondering if he’ll ever believe it wasn’t his fault, either.
“If you’re interested,” Nicolai Plisetsky says, taking a puff of tobacco from his pipe. “One of our detectives recently retired. I think you’d be a fine addition to the team.”
They’re at a cafe on a bustling street, people all around with their faces buried in newspapers proclaiming that Jack the Ripper has been caught. If Yuuri didn’t know better, he’d say they almost seemed disappointed that the months of spectacle are coming to an end.
“You’re being awfully generous,” Yuuri murmurs, “I’ve only done this one little thing. You have no idea if I could help you again.”
“One little thing?” Nicolai says incredulously, “Yuuri, you solved the Jack the Ripper case. This case has been the bane of my existence for months now, and in one night, you just… You solved it.”
Yuuri flushes. “Well, I had some help. He decided to be arrogant and give me that letter. And I just… I kept thinking, there was so much that Victor had told me that put me on the right track.”
Nicolai shakes his head. “But you put it all together.”
“Even if I did,” Yuuri says, tilting his head in suspicion. “I don’t know why you’re offering me this. Surely there must be others. Alphas, perhaps. You must know what my secondary gender is.”
Nicolai takes a long drag from the pipe and blows the acrid tobacco into the cold winter morning. He looks side to side, sheepishly, before saying in a voice far quieter than Yuuri ever believed him capable of, “I thought this case would be the end of me. I don’t know if you were aware, but I’m the first Jewish chief of police in all of London’s history, and certainly there were those who would have loved to see me fail. I worked hard, though, apprehended more criminals than any of my predecessors, and spent long nights at the office when all I wanted was to be at home with my grandson.”
Yuuri nods.
“I was ready to retire with accolades,” Nicolai continues, “And then came Jack the Ripper. It, well, I’ll spare you the details, but it nearly destroyed me. Every ounce of respect I’d gotten disappeared the longer he went uncaught. Then, when Kosminski became a suspect, when vigilante groups attacked Jewish businesses – I thought I’d made progress in the department, and it was gone in an instant. So I want to do something for you, Yuuri Katsuki, to thank you for what you’ve done for me personally.”
In that moment, Yuuri feels a rush of understanding for Nicolai. He thinks of what he must’ve needed to do, the things he needed to swallow down without complaint, to get where he is now. He’s made life so much harder for Victor, though, in his quest. He’s made things better for himself, but what about the rest of the lower classes of London society?
“If I come work for you,” Yuuri points out suspiciously, “Then you get to claim a member of your forces solved the case, where now the credit goes to an anonymous bystander.”
Nicolai chuckles good naturedly. “You’re smart, Yuuri. You’re correct, it’s not entirely altruism that’s making me want to offer this to you specifically. After everything, I think I deserve a bit of good press.” He meets Yuuri’s gaze levelly. “That being said, this just makes me even more confident that you’d be a wonderful detective – and I meant what I said.”
Yuuri bites his lip. At least Nicolai was honest, he supposes.
“I’d make sure things were alright for you,” Nicolai continues. “As an omega, that is. As someone not born in this country.”
All the thoughts swirling in his head just make him feel dazed and confused. The thought of going back to his particular medical school makes him feel nauseous. No matter the grades he got on his exams, he truly doesn’t think he can put up with another semester with Doctor Berger and his cruel classmates.
He loves medicine. He loved the feeling of helping a patient, even the gritty, gory details of it. The people he helped would always show up to Minako’s office with gifts, tears in their eyes to thank her, sometimes both of them for saving their mother or brother or husband.
It’s terrible watching people die, but knowing how things are changing every day to make surgery easier, to make survival rates go up – if he can be a part of that, why shouldn’t he?
He could help people by solving cases too. But…
“I know that the police department made things very difficult for Victor,” Yuuri says, slowly. “I’m not sure I’d feel comfortable working for you, considering that.”
Nicolai blinks in surprise. “You know he’s a prostitute, right? He’s breaking the law.”
“I wish the law had more empathy for him,” Yuuri bites back. “You, Yakov – where were you back when he needed the help from his community the most? I know – I know it was hard for you as the first Jewish chief of police, I really do. I understand that. But I also know you used the power you had to make the lives of other vulnerable people harder. Victor is just as Jewish as you, and he deserves your sympathy, not your derision.”
Nicolai shakes his head. His expression is unreadable, but he remains pleasant as he says, “Well, I won’t force you to do anything. If all you want is my personal thanks, that’s quite alright with me.”
He turns to leave.
“I liked solving the case,” Yuuri blurts out.
Nicolai turns back towards him, eyebrows raised.
“I liked,” Yuuri says, “I liked it. Not the last bit, because I was so scared for Victor, but I used to try to put the clues together in my spare time. If I could do that again...”
Nicolai tips his hat. “Just tell me what you want, Yuuri. Think it over. You know where to find me when you do make your decision.”
Victor wrote to his mama this morning, asking her to come to London.
He sighs, curled up in his bed, Yuuri’s breath tickling the back of his neck as he sleeps.
It’s been a few days now, since Victor was taken by Jack the Ripper. A few days since he nearly died, terrified and alone, strapped to an operating table in the middle of the night.
His bruises have gone from purple to an exceedingly ugly yellow-green. It reminds him of vomit every time he sees them – but Yuuri assures him this is a normal part of the healing process. Victor doesn’t have the heart to tell him he knows, that he’s been bruised before, because Yuuri seems to want to help at every opportunity.
He has personally applied stinging antiseptic to the small cut along Victor’s belly, where Jack pressed the knife in, when Victor truly thought for a few moments of sheer, unrelenting terror that he might die. When Victor tries to do the same to him, Yuuri waves him off in embarrassment, telling him he should rest.
Yuuri still feels guilty, Victor knows, and Victor – he doesn’t really know exactly what he feels. The moments before Yuuri showed up, when Victor truly thought he was alone in the world, were nearly unendurable – but Victor wasn’t alone, and Yuuri came to save him.
Yuuri made a hurtful decision because he’d been hurt so terribly by his own classmates. It wound up with Victor suffering more than Yuuri ever intended.
Victor loves Yuuri, he knows this. He also knows Yuuri is doing his best to make up for it. Victor wonders, too, if there was something he could have done, or said, to stop Yuuri from running away from him. Maybe if he hadn’t reacted so angrily…
Maybe this is truly his fault…
“Mm, Vitya, are you awake?”
Victor flushes beet red. He’d wanted Yuuri to call him Vitya for so long, and now every time he does, he feels like a lovestruck teenager again. A bunch of flowers or a walk in the meadow and he’s ready to pledge his life to Yuuri.
“I am,” Victor says.
In truth, he hasn’t been sleeping well lately. He closes his eyes and sees Jack’s – James’ - hateful eyes and it brings back every terrible thing he felt before Yuuri came to save him.
Yuuri snakes one arm beneath the curve of Victor’s neck, the other under his armpit, grasping at the fabric of his nightdress over his chest. Victor grasps that hand while Yuuri’s other curves back to caress his cheek.
“Sometimes I dream I’ve lost you,” Yuuri mumbles sleepily, lips pressed to the nape of Victor’s neck, right beside his scent gland. “I don’t want to close my eyes because I’m scared I’ll forget you’re with me.”
“I dream of him too,” Victor shudders.
“I wish I could go into your dreams,” Yuuri says, “And fight him off.”
Victor brings Yuuri’s hand up to his lips and kisses it. “You’ve already done that in reality. You don’t need to protect me in my dreams too.”
“Wan’ to,” Yuuri mumbles stubbornly, yawning.
Victor’s heart swells. He feels so safe with Yuuri, loves the comfort of his arms and his body pressed against him. Mama used to tell him that if he stayed with her, he could marry any alpha he wanted in their village. The richest, the most powerful, any.
He never wanted them.
Yuuri – that’s who he wants.
Victor rolls around so they’re face to face, and he cups Yuuri’s cheek, his hand sliding down to his shoulder, thumb running under the strap of his cotton nightdress.
Yuuri’s hair is in a loose braid, the way he likes to wear it at night. Now that Yuuri is living with him, they braid each other’s hair before retiring to bed, dressed in nothing but their nightdresses and sometimes nothing at all, fresh from the bath.
Victor feels a strange need to be naked around Yuuri, as though he’s trying to erase the fact that the first time Yuuri saw him completely undressed was strapped to an operating table, about to die.
“It’s almost like we’re married, isn’t it?” Victor murmurs, trying to shake the thought from his mind.
Yuuri’s eyes widen. For a moment, Victor worries he’s going to say no, it’s nothing like that – but then he nods, eyes glittering with desire.
“It is,” he says. “If only we could be married, but two omegas…”
Victor bites his lip. Desire thrums in his chest. He says, “If I asked you to… Would you bond with me?”
“Yes,” Yuuri says, no hesitation this time.
Victor smiles sleepily, touching Yuuri’s nose.
“I’m happy you’re with me, Yuuri,” Victor murmurs.
Yuuri smiles, the expression causing warmth to pool in Victor’s stomach. Yuuri loves him, and he loves Yuuri. Yuuri forgives him for yelling, and he forgives Yuuri for running away. They were both just scared. Victor understands, deeply, going for the devil he knows rather than the devil he doesn’t.
They have each other, now. They don’t have to be alone. Victor never has to be alone ever again.
Yuuri kisses him. He says, “I’m happy you’re with me too.”
It’s all Victor can do not to cry in happiness.
“Miss Katsuki, I’m glad you came to see me,” Celestino says, motioning for Yuuri to sit down in front of him.
Yuuri does so, more than a little wary, and he shifts from side to side in his skirts with his eyes on the exit.
“What’s this I hear about you dropping out?” Celestino continues without preamble, tanned brow arched in concern.
Yuuri winces, and he calls upon all of his strength as he opens his mouth to explain-
“Celestino,” comes a familiar voice, and Yuuri’s blood runs cold. “I have to speak with you about something.”
“Not now, Stefan,” Celestino waves him off, “I’ll be out in just a few moments.”
Doctor Berger snorts and settles himself in the back of the room. Yuuri winces, just his presence enough to make Yuuri feel ill. He has no desire for Doctor Berger to hear this, to have it confirm everything he already thinks about him, about all omegas in medicine.
Doctor Berger snaps, “I don’t see what the point of this is. He’s dropping out, so let him.”
“Stefan,” Celestino hisses.
Yuuri whirls around and snarls directly in Doctor Berger’s face, “I’m not dropping out. I’m transferring to the Omega’s College of Medicine, where I will hopefully actually be able to learn without my classmates and professors attempting to halt my progress at every turn.”
Doctor Berger smirks, unruffled. Yuuri’s blood boils.
“They’re not nearly as prestigious,” Celestino attempts to draw his attention back to him, shooting a dark look at Doctor Berger. “You won’t have nearly as many opportunities as you would have here.”
Yuuri frowns. “I truly don’t think it would be worth it to return. I cannot reasonably be expected to practice medicine when I’m being sent dismembered body parts and am forced to heat sickness during exams.”
Doctor Berger snorts again.
Yuuri snaps at him, “But if it doesn’t work out, I’m happy to report that I’ve been offered a position with the London police department. On account of your assistant, Doctor Berger. Do thank him for me, if you see him before he’s put to death.”
“Miss Katsuki,” Celestino warns.
There’s a split-second flash of fury on Doctor Berger’s face, but it’s gone in an instant, replaced by cool impassivity.
“I suppose if you fail at that as well you have another job to fall back on,” Doctor Berger snarls. “You’d be working similarly late hours.”
Cold fury pools in Yuuri’s gut. He hates Doctor Berger so deeply, the anger licking at his insides like flames from a burning house. Why does he keep bringing up Victor. Yuuri’s never seen someone with so much hatred for someone he’s never met.
“Stefan,” Celestino snaps. “Perhaps you ought to wait outside.”
Unless…
Victor had flinched when Yuuri brought up his name. Perhaps, then, they have met – and there’s only one way Yuuri can imagine that the two of them would have been brought together.
Victor hates Doctor Berger as much as Doctor Berger hates him, perhaps even moreso. He must have done something then. Something like…
“It was you,” Yuuri breathes, “You’re the doctor that performed Victor’s abortion.”
There’s a long beat of silence. Doctor Berger’s face goes white with shock, his lips pressed together in rage.
Celestino’s gaze flits to Doctor Berger, an unreadable expression on his face. He says, carefully, “Miss Katsuki, you must be aware of what you’re accusing Stefan of.”
Doctor Berger spits out, nearly at the same time, “He told you, did he? Little brat.”
“He didn’t tell me anything,” Yuuri shouts. “Just that one of his clients, a doctor, did it. He described that doctor’s cruelty, and I thought there’s no one else that could match the savagery of Doctor Stefan Berger.”
He spits out his name like it’s a curse, fully out of the chair now, hands clenched into fists at his side.
“Miss Katsuki,” Celestino begins.
Yuuri steamrolls over him, “One of his clients, he said. You miserably, bloody coward, you insult him to my face at every turn while you’re the one spending money to fuck him.”
“Miss Katsuki!” Celestino’s chair clatters to the ground as he shoots up, slack-jawed.
“You think you’re clever for putting that together?” Doctor Berger spits at him, stepping forward. “It’s not a surprise given just how many people he’s been with. You worthless, squealing brat-”
“I’m not worthless,” Yuuri screams, “You’re a massive hypocrite, you’ve been feeling so superior this entire time, but you bought him! How dare you, how dare you pay for him and refuse to grant him even the barest respect, how dare you use him against me all the while knowing what you did-”
Doctor Berger roars and steps forward, but Yuuri doesn’t yield. He shoves him back, shouting, “You bought him! You’re not better than him, you never were! I went toe to toe with Jack the Ripper, do you really think I’m afraid of you?”
“I’ll wring your neck,” Doctor Berger spits, frothing with rage.
“I’d like to see you try,” Yuuri shrieks. “You coward.”
“Enough,” cries Celestino, stepping between the two of them, broad arms forcing Doctor Berger back and away from him. He turns to Yuuri, shocked, and says, “I think you better go, Yuuri. I still… Perhaps…” He sighs, resigned, and shakes his head. “I wish you luck in all your future endeavors.”
Yuuri nods, sparing one last furious glance back at Doctor Berger, before all but running out of the office.
“Yes, you’d better go,” shouts Doctor Berger at Yuuri’s back. “Don’t you ever come back here, you useless omega bitch-”
The words hit Yuuri, but all he can do is laugh. He’s free, he’s finally free of them. He has no regrets about leaving the college, not after everything they put him through.
Not even as he hears Celestino shout, voice shaking with rage, “Stefan you idiot, he was our best student-”
Yuuri is still shaking when he knocks on Yakov’s door later that day.
Yakov swings the door open and nods to Victor, who is bundled up on the couch, reading a book. Victor doesn’t like to be alone for long periods of time, so the few times Yuuri genuinely can’t help it, Victor has stayed with Yakov and Lilia. They’ve been much kinder to him recently, though there’s still a sort of tension around all of their interactions.
“You two should come by for dinner,” Yakov says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Lilia picked up a whole chicken at the market. No fun having a roast without company. Besides, Makkachin will like gnawing at the bones.”
Yuuri looks to Victor. Victor smiles nervously.
“I’ll think about it. Thank you, Yakov,” he says.
When they’re finally back in the apartment, Yuuri flings open his suitcase – thinking all the while of the first night he spent here in London, curled up in Victor’s sheets with his clothes lost to the bustling city streets.
Makkachin hops up from her little cushion, rearing up on her hind legs to give Victor’s face lots of happy doggy kisses. Yakov’s all but given her to them – apparently he’d noticed how much she seemed to adore Victor, he’d hoped they could provide each other the support he was never able to give.
Victor hovers nervously, petting Makkachin, and Yuuri knows he wants to ask how the meeting with the professors went, but in a hidden pocket there he has two glistening rings and a deep urge to solidify this new chapter of his life.
“Vitya,” Yuuri shouts, wincing when Victor starts, “I know we can’t officially get married, and I know it would be difficult for you to work again if we’re bonded. But I, you, I mean-”
He loses steam in an instant, going bright red, his voice dropping to a nervous stutter.
Victor’s eyes are wide and blue as the ocean back in Hatsetsu. He murmurs, reverent, as though he can barely believe what’s happening, “Yuuri?”
“Here,” Yuuri blurts out, thrusting one ring in Victor’s direction. Victor raises his slender hand, covered in cheap, sparkling jewels but for one bare finger, and when Yuuri realizes he means for Yuuri to place the ring on him he flushes even redder.
It fits perfectly, the gold band sliding down Victor’s ring finger and catching the sunlight outside.
Someone, at some point, told Victor that he didn’t deserve love or kindness. Someone, more recently than Yuuri would like, told Yuuri the same thing. It doesn’t have to be like that anymore. Yuuri fought off a murderer just to prove it.
“I promise to take care of you from now on,” Yuuri stammers, “No matter what happens.”
Victor swallows. His eyes are still wide, his lips trembling. He takes the second ring and pulls off Yuuri’s glove, and the breath catches in Yuuri’s throat.
“I promise to take care of you, too,” Victor whispers, putting the ring on Yuuri’s finger. Their hands meet, and the rings on them glint brighter than the shine of Victor’s eyes.
Yuuri pulls Victor to him and kisses him fiercely. Their lips touch, the rings on their hands touch, they kiss until Yuuri can’t see or hear or taste anything but Victor, Victor, Victor.
In his first few months in London, he’s risen to the top of his medical school, dropped out of medical school, met the love of his life, nearly lost the love of his life, and figured out who Jack the Ripper is. Some days the reality of it is so overwhelming it’s all Yuuri can do but sink to his knees and cry.
“Vitya,” Yuuri says, because he’s worried if he doesn’t say it enough Victor will forget, “I love you.”
In the upcoming weeks, Jack, James Hastings, will be executed. Victor will celebrate his birthday. Yuuri will begin school again, at a brand new place hopefully friendlier than the last, and think about taking cases on as well.
“I love you too,” Victor mumbles, dazedly. Victor’s nose scrunches up cutely when he smiles, just another reminder of how deeply Yuuri loves him. Makkachin boofs happily, curling up again on her cushion and panting, her presence soothing, warm, comforting.
Doctor Berger was wrong about him, Jack was wrong about him, they were allwrong.
Somehow, he’s done enough right to have this – and nothing will take it away from him.
