M.O.N.E.Y • viktuuri ✔️

4.| party favour

victor had to admit it, he started to regret what he'd said when he saw yuri's expression change, saw that cocktail of hurt and anger and shame in those chocolate eyes. he started to regret it in a stifling way, in as much as he sighed heavily, and the victor nikiforov wasn't sure what the fuck to say. he saw yuri start shaking his head to himself which only made him feel worse than the comedown he was sure to get in a couple of houses

"forget it," yuri laughed, running a hand through his hair, holding it there as he gave a short, fake laugh, then dropping it and turned his head so that he was facing victor wth that same look in his eyes. "don't know what the fuck i was thinking, talking to you."

victor leant his head back as yuri had done before, hating the pumping beat of the music that seemed to be getting inside his head, and rubbed his save with both hands.

he was verging on too drunk and too high to know what to say.

"yuri - "

"you're a fucking asshole, did you know that?" yuri said. he didn't shout, and victor still had his hands over his face, but he could hear the expression on yuri's face in the more hurt than angry tone of his voice. yuri got up to go, but victor managed to shake away the slump he'd sunken into - and the inability to say any fucking thing - and grabbed yuri's hand.

"wait," victor sighed, and was surprised that yuri didn't shake him off. "look...fuck...look, i'm sorry."

yuri kept that same expression, same look in his eyes, but didn't say a thing.

"you're right," victor laughed bitterly, still sat on the couch as he held his arms open, "i'm a fucking asshole. the victor nikiforov is a fucking asshole."

yuri smiled a little, the corner of those lips that looked so soft turning up. he rolled his eyes.

"that not enough?" victor laughed, although he wasn't sure why in hell he was trying so hard when he'd rather give up altogether and find either chris or jj for that hit. "ok - "

he stood up, and shouted at the top of his lungs,

"the victor nikiforov is a fucking asshole"

yuri laughed, and victor laughed too; alcohol-tinged and coke-sprinkled, but still genuine. he sat back down on the couch, and yuri sighed, rolled his eyes, and sat back down next to him.

victor noticed that he crossed his legs at the ankle again.

"i might as well stay with you," yuri shrugged, his voice with an edge of that same teasing tone, but sort of different now. through the gathering haze of cocaine and vanilla vodka and that one party pill he'd popped, victor liked the new sound to yuri's voice.

"and why's that?"

yuri smiled again, and crossed one leg fully over the other. he was wearing those same black jeans - ripped at the knees - and a tight, red, sleeveless cropped top that stopped just above his waist.

"because you might overdose if i don't," yuri teased, turning his head to one side so that he was looking at victor, and sending dark hair falling into his eyes. "and we wouldn't want to deprive the media of the victor nikiforov, would we?"