- Ticking - (Otabek x Yurio) (COMPLETED)

{ 11- Greasy Paradise }

Yurio shivered again, blinking twice to gain some control. He was better now. It wasn't the sickness causing him to be like this, it was his own mind.

He didn't like this state of being wounded, confused; he couldn't focus on Calliber's advice. With everything coming at him so soon during the past couple of days, he was making little headway on his primary goal. It was disheartening, to put it in the lightest terms possible.

That, at least, was clean-- goal. He loved that word, it was neat and collected. All there was to do was work peacefully and calmly towards it and be rewarded. Easy and simple, unlike the other, more sinister word.

"Who still goes to Yakov's summer classes that old? I mean, like, L-O-L, we have an honorary grandpa," a voice to the left of him snickered, "gray hairs and all."

If Yurio had whipped his head around any faster, a tornado would have formed.

"What the fuck," he muttered in a growl, "If those bitches are talking about Beka, they have another thing coming." Yurio clenched his fist and followed their line of vision, tracing it right to the person he'd hoped it wouldn't. Furious was an understatement; Yurio was the embodiment of the sun, flames dancing through his hands in rage.

"You hoes! You goddamn hoes, are you kidding me right now? If twenty years is considered old to you, your grave will be here sooner than you know it! And who will be at your funeral? Only the gravedigger. Because no one cares about petty ass people who can't mind their own business. Apologize. Now." He was shaking, standing up before realizing he'd moved his feet. He knew he picked on people frequently, but there was a fine between jokes and outright bitchery, as he often called it. Yurio was well aware that he was annoying sometimes, but he seldom honestly meant it, at least not to the point of fighting.

"Uh, what..." The shorter girl chewed the inside of her cheek, eyelashes fluttering in a futile attempt of appearing innocent.

"Apologize! Or you'll see your grave faster than I had anticipated, you little bi--" Yurio quipped back with speed, arm to his side and fingers spread in a thoughtless attempt at shielding Otabek. He hadn't even thought about the action, it just seemed to happen naturally.

"Okay! Fine, we apologize, geesh."

"Yeah. Sorry or whatever." The other girl flitted her eyes from Otabek to Yurio multiple times, not deciding on a target of her scrutinizing visage.

Yurio saw a small, humble movement from behind him-- Otabek nodding in thanks to them-- and felt a hand wrap around his wrist, effectively pulling him down again. He flipped out, lashing his hand towards the ceiling and causing him to land roughly, limbs sprawled out every which way like a baby spider. Yurio quickly collected himself, brushing off Otabek's hand trying to help him up gently.

Yurio looked up, ignoring Otabek's apology for making him fall, taking note of the hearty smile on his face.

"What are you grinning at? Beka the sadist or some shit?" Yurio scowled, feeling humiliated.

"No, of course not." Otabek leaned back, one hand resting behind him casually. Yurio kept his eyes trained onto Otabek's deep ones, forcing himself to not let them stray even an inch away, especially not when Otabek's shirt rose up a bit when he moved.

Yurio bit his lip and decided to probe more, feeling uneasy, a thick film of grease still settled over him. It churned his stomach with an underlying sense of pungent guilt-- he scratched his hand to distract himself.

"Then why were you smiling?"

"It's who you are. Protective and dependable, standing up for me just then. Not who you were trying to force yourself to be earlier. I was just happy you were being more free again." Otabek smiled again, eyes crinkling softly.

Yurio stopped scratching at his hand, hairs on the back of his neck standing up. He swallowed, this time not feeling so thick-- the oil was receding, his heart beat regulating.

Maybe Otabek could be speaking the truth, maybe he didn't need to be a certain type of friend as long as he was... no, no, he was right the first time.

He was still a burden, without a doubt. Possibly just a burden with benefits-- no, that's also wrong. He's not even benefitting Otabek, just being a pain by causing a scene when he shouldn't even be there in the first place. He should be on the other side of the room, alone, or-- better yet-- in a different country altogether.

The teenager flinched, toes twitching as he brought his legs up and pressed his knees against his mouth, rocking back and forth slowly.

He hated this. The oil, the grease, the thoughts; oh, he hated it! And hate was such a strong word, yet not even strong enough to describe his current predicament.

Otabek must despise him. He must think Yurio is the biggest burden in the whole world. Despise him, despise him, despi--

"Yura! Yura, are you okay? You're not sick again, hmm?" Otabek was back in his line of vision, hand settled on his shoulder for the second time that day.

"I'm fine." Yurio trained his eyes on the bright, white lights above.

"You're not fine. If you can't talk about it, that's okay, but please let me do something. You've been like this lately, and I don't know what to do." Otabek seemed worried, exhibiting the first use of 'please' Yurio had seen in his vocabulary.

Yurio opened his mouth, but didn't talk. He didn't have anything to say that wouldn't cause himself to self-destruct later on.

He didn't know what was really going on with him, either; he was like a switch sometimes. On, off, on, off, the light too flippant to notice which it was anymore. He had stared at it too long and was begininng to see dots, purple clouds interrupting his sight.

"I... it's all on me, and I... Am I a good friend? No sugar-coated words, just the truth. Just that... For fuck's sake, am I a good friend? Shit!" Yurio panicked, latching onto his jacket's sleeve; it could've been Otabek's jacket sleeve, he couldn't tell the difference in the way he was flailing.

"Truth? I-- Oh, you're an awesome friend. Shh, it's okay, you're great. More than good. I wouldn't trade you for anyone else. Yura, don't cry, you don't," Otabek embraced him tenderly, "deserve anything like that. You deserve better. Shh, it's alright." He coaxed Yurio into calming down, whispering into his ear soothingly. As his arms wrapped around Yurio's back, the film lessened, and Yurio began to breathe again, choking on his sobs.

His face was hid behind Otabek's shoulder, cries dying out as he relaxed into the hug. It was so calming, such a new feeling of being rid of the oil; he relished it.

Although, he knew that it would leave all too soon, and he would be left to rot in his own unrighteous hole of a mind. It was terrifying, the future inevitable, yet, somehow, he found himself not caring in that moment.

Yurio tensed up and then melted, letting himself fall into the sweet clutches of the other, letting himself enjoy the moment of grease-riddance even if it costed him later.