Work Text:
"Run, run, run away
Just take my hand and we'll abandon this world
We'll wash those tears away
You're young and beautiful, and I'll love you always"
*
“...Hah! I mean, I don’t regret scrapping the original and doing my own thing. The look on Yakov’s face alone was worth it afterwards,” Yuri sniggered at the memory. “But SHIT, how could you let me wear that?!” Yuri smothered the sides of his cold face with his hands. Otabek laughed and shuffled his uncovered hands deeper into his coat pockets, his breath visible in the chill.
“ I thought it was cool at least,” (he still does). “You still wear that skimpy t-shirt right?” He raised an eyebrow and watched as Yuri groaned and pulled on his hood to cover even more of his face, then when Otabek caught Yuri’s boot with his as best as he could whilst walking, Yuri nearly tripped and shoved Otabek’s shoulder in retaliation, and neither could stop giggling.
“That was one time! It’s too small now anyway,” he mimed his shoulders expanding. “It’s stretched so tight now that you could pluck the back material like guitar strings.” Otabek chuckled, trying now to warm his hands in front of his face in a cup shape. Yuri grabbed both of Otabek’s hands and held them in his own gloved ones, both of them still facing the way that they were walking. They were designed to be like cat paws. Yuri loved them. He called them his kitten mittens. He lifted the woollen ends to cover Otabek’s hands as best as he could, pretending to bite his thumbs which were sticking out. Beka’s fingertips played piano against Yuri’s palms.
They weren’t afraid of this overt sappiness. It took a while to reach this kind of intimacy, and now it comes so easily. Though Yuri has made it clear that they would never reach the level of the ‘gross married couple’ as he so lovingly puts it, there were limits after all. They were currently walking along the beach. It was winter in Hasetsu, so it was snowed over. It was kind of weird stepping over sand when it was hardened and covered in a white sheet, like polar opposites. And neither of them were harp seals, so swimming in the sea was a rational miss. The snow didn’t fall, but the freezing chill was present, turning the tips of their noses pink.
“---oh and the NECKLACE!!-” Yuri said, then he went quiet and let out an ugh . Otabek looked ahead down the snowy concrete path. In front of them some distance away was the unmistakable trio of Yuuri, Viktor, and Mari. A bundle of fluff was also bounding alongside them with puppyish charm despite being old, sniffing happily at the ground.
“There’s your lover and his gang,” teased Yura’s boyfriend. Yuri let go of Otabek’s hands. He should never have told him about his teenage crush on Katsuki - if he wants to bring it up at every given opportunity, then he can suffer with cold hands alone. Of course, Otabek knows Yuri enough by now to know that they’re just playing. He would never bring it up if Yuri was uncomfortable with it, and Yuri wouldn’t currently be sporting a face of pure malice if he thought that Otabek took it to heart. He smiled at the blond, said blond rolling his eyes as he tried to stifle his own.
“Quick! Help me make some snowballs before they see us,” Yuri dashed off to the forested side of the beach pavement, leaning down to start bundling snow in his kitten mittens.
“Too late, Viktor’s clocked on,” Beka answered, as Viktor dragged Yuuri by his arm to make their own batch of snowy ammunition.
“Well don’t just stand there then! This is WAR! Get to it, Lieutenant Altin!”
Snowballs were being flung back and forth. A couple hit Beka’s shoulder. Yuri got one hurled straight on his forehead courtesy of his former crush - (Otabek will never let that go). The opposition were surprisingly into it. Mari laughed maniacally, hiding behind a convenient rock jutting out of the earth. Makkachin was running through no man’s land, trying to catch the things which he thought were tennis balls mid-air, his old age not letting him down. When their hands started to get numb, both sides relented, Yuuri the first to surrender, even though that didn’t stop Plisetsky from sneaking another onto Viktor’s chest, tarnishing his lovely new coat.
They met in the middle. Mari mentioned how in a little while, they were to be expected back at the resort, and so it was excellent timing that they encountered one another. As Yuri and Otabek turned to carry on with their walk, Yuuri grabbed a handful of snow and dunked it down the Russian’s back. The wriggling and hot-headed Yura would have probably tackled him to the ground if he wasn’t hoisted up onto his boyfriend’s shoulder. The usual cascade of insults flowed naturally from his mouth as all the rest laughed and carried on their merry way.
They arrived back at Yu-Topia, removing their shoes and socks at the genkan, replacing them with warm slippers. Yuri used Otabek for balance. They both left little puddles behind with each footstep as they made their way down the hall.
As soon as they reached their room, Yuri whipped open his belt and stepped out of his jeans. He then shrugged off his jacket and rummaged through his suitcase. Otabek removed his coat and used a towel to dab his hair, then he told Yuri he would go and clean up the water that they left on the wooden floor.
He did just that, staying a little while longer as Hiroko hurringly told him to keep an eye on the pots boiling in the kitchen as she went to collect ingredients from the outhouse. When he returned, Yuri wasn’t there. Probably using the shower, he thought. Otabek closed the sliding door carefully and picked up Yuri’s clothes from the floor, like a personal maid, putting them to dry by hanging them over chair backs and the wardrobe. The smell of Yuri combined with damp snow water was…an experience. A shuffling was heard just outside of the door and as Otabek turned around, in came a clean Yura, wearing soft pyjamas and oversized slippers, a towel slung over one shoulder and another spiraled on his head like an ice cream tuft. It hadn’t even reached evening time yet, but Yuri couldn’t care less what people thought of him, pyjamas are comfy okay? It’s not like he’s going anywhere else today. Yuri threw the shoulder towel onto Otabek in a way that made it land on his head instead of his arms. He was now a ghost, ready for Halloween festivities in the middle of January. He observed Yuri smile as he wriggled his way out of it. His boyfriend then bent down and rummaged around Beka’s suitcase, on a quest for his wooden hairbrush. Otabek sat down on a chair, waiting for Yuri to finish before...getting changed. Apart from the hairbrush, a clean set of sleeping clothes and socks for Otabek were placed on the futon next to Yuri on the floor. As quick as Otabek could blink, Yuri was kneeling in front of him, starting to unbutton his still-wet jeans. He quickly grabbed Yuri’s wrists a little too harshly, heart thumping. He mustered every ounce of self control he had, “No, Yuri!”. It seemed foreign to deny him, feeling like an overprotective dog owner.
“Don’t worry,” Yuri smirked, “I’m not going to do that ,” a wink. They have already had that conversation. Yuri carried on with the task at hand. Otabek stood up suddenly.
“NO!” Yuri knelt back on his thighs. “Seriously, Yura. I don’t--.” He gave a concerned and intrigued look to Otabek.
“Okay,” he stood up too. “Well, at least get changed by yourself, you’re soaked.” He passed Otabek his clothes pile from the futon, layering his pillows on their pushed-together futon to lean back on as he lay down. Otabek also picked up the first towel and shower gels that he saw from the suitcase, eyes downcast and in silence. He hoped that Yuri wasn’t mad at him.
Otabek peeked out of their room. The shower cubicle adjacent in the corridor was occupied, and he knew that the others on the second floor were out of service. Damn and the toilet rooms were being cleaned?! - his lucky day. He reluctantly went back inside to sit on a chair and wait.
“Just get changed here? It’s only me. The old man won’t jump out from under the futon covers, I promise,” Yuri interjected from his reclining position on the futons, the familiar tune of a certain cat collecting game Yuri loved so much could be faintly heard from his phone. He was glad his boyfriend wasn’t mad at least. Beka though seemed restless and didn’t reply. “Is something wrong, Beka? I’m sorry if I was a bit too much?” Otabek was pretty sure he knew what he was signing up for when he fell in love with Yuri, ‘a bit too much’ was a part of the deal. But it wasn’t that.
Meanwhile, a myriad of assumptions rattled through Yuri’s mind. He had never heard Beka raise his voice like that before. In playfulness or to answer a call after a concert maybe, when they were playing mario kart definitely , but not anger. Yuri was about to say that he didn’t care about biology - that he’d love him no less, or that the massive skin blemish he was hiding was perfectly nothing to be ashamed of. That was before Otabek dumped the stuff on the floor with shaking hands and rested his head in his hands, his elbows balancing on each knee. Yuri crawled over in distress. If his Beka wasn’t on the verge of an anxiety attack, he would have poked fun at Yuri for still wearing his seven year old leopard print boxers that he saw earlier.
Otabek didn’t like the vulnerability from Yuri kneeling before him, so he grabbed his coconut scented hands and moved with him to sit on the two pushed-together futons on the floor. He took a moment of picking the tatami mats with his fingernail, then disregarding mental torment, ungraciously peeled off the uncomfortably damp denim. It was quite the ugly affair, why did they have to be so fucking tight?! As they bunched around his ankles, Otabek still tugging at the material with all his strength, Yuri understood. On his upper thighs were scatterings of faint white and light purple scars, most were horizontal and varied in size. Where his skin was more tanned, the lines were whiter. A beat passed between the two. Otabek was overly conscious of Yuri’s expression, his eyes. It was so silent.
“I didn’t feel good enough. I still don’t feel good enough sometimes,” he muttered into the quiet. Yuri studied his eyes to look for any signs of tears, but there were none. His hands started to fidget though, and Yuri knew what that meant. He leaned in to Otabek, wrapping his arms around him with his head slumped over his chest. He didn’t move his hands, nor speak for a while. It was some time before he spoke up. Otabek was playing with his hair.
“I understand why you didn’t want to tell me,” it was easy to feel his boyfriend’s heart beat slightly faster from this position. “But Beka,” he lifted his chin up to look at Otabek’s face. “I love you. Nothing will change that. You can tell me anything. We can figure it out together, or I will do my best to support you, you know that,” now the tears were brimming. “Please don’t hide from me, you will never burden me with anything, I promise.”
Otabek was about to say some idiotic retaliation to that, but the forced humour died out before he could speak. He bit the inside of his cheek as his eyes welled up.
“You know,” Yuri carried on, trying to think of the right things to say. “If… when my grandad or... Pyotya dies, as horrible as that is to think about, at least...I know I will have you. And I wish back then you had someone too. I couldn’t imagine--I guess, what I’m getting at, is that you have me now. And if you are ever feeling this way, you can tell me? I will try my best to make sure that you never feel like that again,” he started to play with Otabek’s fingers. “If you don’t want to talk about it now or ever, that’s fine. Just know I’ll be right here on this futon if you do.” It was quiet for a few moments. There were the occasional slippered footsteps of people outside and a few muffled doors, sliding left and right. He probably should have felt uncomfortable wearing no pants.
“I just… I felt,” why was it so hard to translate feelings into words? “It was hard for me, being away from home. I barely grew up with my family, so much so that I wonder if they even remember I exist half of the time. Sometimes I felt like I was just so behind everyone else,” Yuri thought of the ballet class, “more recently, before we became friends, I… I just felt… sad. Or angry. When music can’t help anymore...,” he huffed. “I was just trying to figure things out. No one else knows. I haven’t… since a few months before we started to… date,” he still couldn’t believe that by the way. He flushed as Yuri quietly looked up at him. “Because…,” because you have given me a solid reason to live? Because you are the person that I love most in the world, and by you simply being with me, friend or more, you have given me a reason not to want to? Because even if things are down, you never fail to cheer me up or give me hope and actually listen to what I have to say? Because we trust each other and learn from each other and you make me feel so loved and can laugh with me and joke with me as an equal and support everything I do without being entirely dependant on each other and show me your favourite films and you understand me and you squeeze my hand like you never want to let go and-- “Because you make me happy, Yura,” now they hugged properly. “Thank you,” Yuri grabbed onto his shoulders. “I will tell you more another time… I just... can't seem to find the words right now.” The worthlessness, the starvation for punishment, the nausea, the insomnia, the avoiding mirrors, the anxiety, the countless nights spent awake with tears and regrets would have to wait. They parted and Yuri gave him his sleep clothes from earlier to put on. After he did, they lay down on the pushed-together futon, discarding Otabek’s shower for now, facing each other on their sides with limbs tangled.
“I love you so much. Pyotya does too. She pretends that she loves you more than I do, but that’s not true. I love you the most,” Otabek giggled. He was glad Yuri was joking now. The atmosphere wasn’t tense nor uncomfortable, and he was glad for that.
“I love you too,” he said. At that moment there was a knock on the wooden door. Otabek went to pull away, not usually being affectionate in front of the Katsuki’s, but Yuri resisted, in fact he held him closer more tightly and nuzzled his face against Beka’s neck. When there was no answer, the door was slid open by Yuuri. Makkachin managed to weasel his way in too between Yuuri’s legs. Because he was older now and out of energy from his walk, he calmly approached the two on the floor, before lying down on top of their entwined legs. Yuuri made a noise of protest before Yuri told him that it was fine, they wanted him to stay.
“Alright,” he said with a caring smile. “Dinner is nearly ready if you would like to come to the table.”