song: paris by the 1975 (you guessed it)
yuri was biting at his nail on the sofa, whilst phitchit played with leo's bronze hair and the television was on low. yuri had his phone with its cracked screen by his side, but he wasn't looking for any texts from victor nikiforov, who's name he never wanted to see on the broken screen of his iphone again.
even the thought of him and his scent was too goddamn painful for yuri; more goddamn painful than what he he had covered up clumsily with a roll of white bandage on his soft forearms and thighs.
"what's the matter with you, sugar?" celestino asked him, wrapping his arms around yuri from behind the sofa and kissing his delicate, bruised cheek that was made up to look pretty for him and his paying customers with nars concealer. yuri tried to not wince; he knew it would only make him angry.
"you've got that pout that i hate on your little face. not still moody like you were last friday, are you?" celestino chuckled, before sitting down heavily on the armchair beside yuri.
"you deserved your three days break, sweetheart," celestino said, rubbing yuri's knee. your gave an obedient smile, but inside, he was in shards of glass that he couldn't scrape back together without cutting himself and bleeding.
and three days; it had been three days since victor nikiforov had smashed yuri's katsuki's heart into pieces, and yuri knew that he would be back up on sale the next day. the thought of cold, emotionless hands groping at him, and without the scent of vanilla and lemon or a fantasy of a boy with blue eyes and silver hair taking him away to hold him with love, want and appreciation made yuri wish he had cut harder under the hot rain of the shower.
"i hate to cut your time-off short, baby - "
yuri winced at the words he had smiled at on his phone screen late at night.
victor💍: only if you want me to, baby
" - but some has asked for you," he said with a smile, rubbing at yuri's thigh. "later on tonight. that rich kid jj leroy's is having a drinks party with the likes of chris giacometti those other two...what are they called...mickey and emil. ten tonight. and you'll be there, baby. leo and phitchit too, of course, but i need you there after your success at that victor nikiforov's - "
yuri duh his nails into his palms.
" - party. you'll go, won't you, hun? you won't be all difficult again, will you?"
his grip tightened on yuri's thigh, pressing against a violet bruise that was the result of yuri's last refusal; all for victor nikiforov.
"yes," yuri said with an attempt at a smile, and phitchit giggled with leo by his side. yuri knew that he needed the money; 100 dollars from his saved cut of his late night dealings was a severe loss. if he wanted the hope of a way out, he needed to make up for what celestino's bruised hands had taken from his body and his broken heart.
and the strong smell of cologne and two other strangers' hands would do that for him, even if he still craved the scent of vanilla and lemon against his own will.
"a fucking whore."
22:06
celestino remained in the passenger seat of the unfamiliar dark blue car with the hard leather seats whilst leo, phitchit and yuri slipped out of the back and slammed the car door.
"do me proud, you hear?" celestino said with a chuckle, and he clocked at the man in a black suit standing by the hotel door, before winding up the window as the car began to pull away from the glittering door of the hotel yuri katsuki was standing outside in a grey coat, black jeans and baby blue cropped shirt.
vnikiforov: favourite colour?
katsudon: baby pink/blue can't decide
yuri pushed through the revolving doors and stepped into the brightly lit foyer of the hotel, with phitchit and leo either side of him, and followed the man in the gleaming black suit through the marble-floored lounge and through a large double door leading into a bar with leather lined seats and glittering metal stools. the room bubbled with low chatter and the occasional high-pitched laugh of a girl in some tight-fitting dress. and at the bar itself, yuri could see jj leroy in a suit without a tie, surrounded by michele crispino, emil nekola and two girls; one in red, the other in black. catching yuri's eyes, jj set down the salt-encrusted cocktail glass he held in one hand and beckoned yuri over with the same smile he had seen at victor nikiforov's party.
yuri smiled as he knew he needed to do, and started to make his way over to the empty barstool by jj's side, avoiding catching chris giacometti's gaze.
don't think about victor.
don't think about him, yuri.
he isn't thinking about you.
he thinks that you're a fucking whore.
"hello again," yuri said, crossing his legs and leaning his head on one hand.
"want a drink?" jj asked with a smile that the media loved so much, and yuri nodded, and gave his order to the bartender.
"cosmopolitan."
jj smiled as he raised the glass to his lips, and yuri pushed all thoughts of the silver-haired, blue-eyed bit who had torn his heart out of his chest that night in that guest bedroom.
"a fucking whore."
"you wanted to see me again, huh?" yuri teased jj, toying with the undone top button of his shirt. yuri was playing the part he needed to, flirting shamelessly and crossing and uncrossing his legs from up in the barstool.
"mhm," jj replied with a smirk, and set down his empty glass with a clink. "i'm bored of this now, aren't you, yuri? want to take this somewhere quieter?"
he held up a room key, and yuri forced himself to nod and smile and follow jj leroy back through the white marble foyer to the elevator; it had happened a lot quicker than he had expected it to, and in a way, yuri was glad of that. it meant the the night would be over sooner, as would the money be in his hands.
and after all, there was nothing to old him back, such as a man with ocean blue eyes who kissed his neck and had fooled yuri into believing that he loved him, wanted him and appreciated him.
22:48
yuri pulled on his shirt and jeans, hiding his body under the bedsheets from jj leroy, who sat in only his black trousers, shirt discarded, at the end of the bed, messing with a lighter and the stub of a cigarette.
the room smelt of smoke, strong cologne and sex; yuri was still longing for the scent of vanilla and lemon.
he stuffed the two tenners on the bedside table into his back jean pocket, and pulled off the waves of sheets to find his coat, strewn somewhere around the floor of jj's hotel room.
"you going?" jj asked with one eyebrow raised, finally managing to light up his previous cigarette. yuri gave a slight nod, and picked up his coat from where it lay in a pearl grey pile by jj's bare feet. "shame."
yuri gave a meaningless laugh, coat over his arm and quickly stepping onto the bathroom tiles to ruffle up his hair in the mirror. the bruise framing his was fading; slowly fading. the bank notes rustled in his back pocket as he went back into the bedroom to find his shoes, and saw that jj was sitting with his head in his hands, rubbing at his eyes.
"you ok?" yuri asked, with no hurry to get back to the apartment with no hot water and a man sitting on the sofa with heavy boots, bruised knuckles and an expensive coat. jj nodded, and gave yuri his famous smile; he looked tired.
"she left me," jj said with a quick smile, running a hand through his hair to push it away from his forehead. he shrugged. "what can you do, huh? what can you do with this fucking life that you're stuck with, huh?"
yuri smiled sadly, and realised that he wasn't in jj leroy's hotel room anymore; he was in a guest bedroom in victor nikiforov's house, and listening to every word that passed those soft, chapped lips all over again.
"you look sad, yuri," jj said with a small, lop-sided smile. "are you sad?"
"goodnight, jj," yuri said quietly, pulling in his coat and giving him a sorry smile. there he was, thinking about victor fucking nikiforov once again.
don't tell me that you love him, yuri?
get over yourself, katsuki.
remember what he said.
"a fucking whore."
that's all he'll ever see you as.
that's all you are.
"you wanna forget it all for a while, yuri?" jj piped up as his hand reached the cold metal of the door handle. yuri turned back to look jj in the face, bank notes crinkling as he did so.
"what do you mean?" jj smiled at him, got to his feet and headed over top the chest of drawers opposite the bed and started digging around.
"i can make you forget he all for a while baby."
yuri tried to wince at the sound of a canadian accent instead of gossamer-smooth russian.
"a fucking whore."
yuri gave a short laugh, and watched as jj pulled out a roll of black material and unfurled it on the crumpled bedsheets. "and how will you do that?"
"it'll make it all seem better, yuri, trust me," jj said, pulling out his lighter and heating up the powder on the charred silver spoon he was holding up. and yuri realised that it was heroin.
"it can take getting used to," jj said in a low voice, pulling a thin syringe out of the black square of material and flicking at the body. "but once you've gone up, god, yuri..."
he turned to face him with a smile, and turned off the lighter.
"you'll forget every fucking little thing that's making you sad. you hear me?"
yuri didn't move from beside the door, his hand still resting on the handle.
"what do you say, yuri?" jj asked, filling the syringe with the liquid from the spoon. "want to forget it all?"
"a fucking whore."
yuri opened his mouth to reply, but his voice was nowhere to be found. he thought of the cool metal under his palm, and how easy it would be to walk out of jj leroy's hotel room right there and then.
but then he'd be back in the living room of his ground-floor apartment, listening to heavy boots echoing down the hallway, using phitchit's concealer, bandaging up his arms; all without his fantasy keeping him going through out the long days and longer nights, through the unwelcome scents and rough hands and the white bandages and money hidden under his mattress, so far from how much he needed.
without his fantasy of being loved, wanted and appreciated by victor nikiforov - with his scent of vanilla and lemon, soft, chapped lips and gossamer whispers into yuri's hair of how he was worth so much more, how he wasn't nothing.
"a fucking whore."
and so yuri sat on the ruffled bedsheets of the bed in jj leroy's hotel room, and took off his coat to let him tie a black tie around his arm and press the thin needle of the syringe into his forearm.
"you're going to be happy again, baby." jj smiled, "you and me both. you first, and i'll join you just after. you ready to forget it all, yuri?"
yuri gave a nod, closed his eyes, and waited to fly up to the heaven he had only ever felt before in the arms of a boy with silver hair and blue, blue eyes.
well shit