LONG CHAPTER TO MAKE UP FOR HIATUS !!
and ugh em is ill rip and she had a ten hour car ride so has been listening to a lot of the 1975 not that she is complaining
song: grey la by blackbear
victor watched yuri lying asleep on his grey couch, curled on one side, hair in his eyes and victor's t-shirt crumpled. and as he stood there, head pounding due to the long comedown from the coke he had snorted two days before, in the same car that he had made love to yuri katsuki in. he swallowed down aspirin, but it did him no good, so he had resorted to trying to block out the thudding pain by watching his angel sleeping on his grey couch.
victor knew that yuri was still hurt and vulnerable and scared after all that had happened to him; he didn't fall asleep for hours, so there were still dark shadows under his eyes, and even when he did he clung to victor tight as if he were scared to let go.
victor had to unclench his fists; even the thought of the bruises on yuri's body was enough to make him punch the wall until his knuckles bled.
he didn't mind the quiet of the house - he'd sat dazedly through cold mornings alone with a comedown countless times before, or in the silence of a car as he paid some stranger to drive him home early in the morning with the affects of the coke still wearing off. he didn't mind it at all, but what he did mind was the bruises he could see on yuri's torso where victor's shirt had ridden up as he slept.
victor took a few steps forwards, and sat down on the grey armchair close to the couch. he thought about another hit - the grinding pain in his head and the sight of the damage celestino cialdini had done to his angel making it hard for him to breathe.
"promise me."
victor leant forwards on the armchair, fighting off the craving, and brushed away the one lock of soft, dark, dark hair that had fallen over yuri's eyes. he winced when he saw the bruise around his eye, and the craving spiked, but he distracted himself with the smell of his shower gel on yuri's soft skin, the softness of his freshly washed hair and how beautiful yuri katsuki looked as he slept on victor's couch.
he's safe with you, victor.
victor sat back, smiling to himself, enjoying the afterglow of being so close to yuri, and at the memory of the taste of rain and chapstick in his silver mercedes as yuri said it, over and over again.
"god, i love you, victor nikiforov."
he dug his nails into his palms and scrunched up his eyes, his body begging for cocaine. he breathed out slow, but the craving was still there, overpowering and persistent.
"promise me."
victor got to his feet, and started to pace around the hall, to distract himself, careful not to wake up yuri. he was thinking over every moment he had with him, to overpower the craving with love, want and appreciation.
he could see a boy in a crop top against a background of drunken celebrities high off of the ground, hear his teasing voice, saw how beautiful he was lying in a stranger's bed beside victor in a velvet choker, could taste his tears when he kissed him on his grey couch, could see his phone lighting up his room as he got another text from him, could feel the softness of his warm skin against victor's lips, could smell the scent of bubblegum -
victor took a deep breathe once more, and the headache and the persistent, overpowering craving ebbed away for the time being.
and he knew what he was going to do for yuri, and could imagine the look on his face when he did.
on the marble countertop in victor nikiforov's kitchen lay the recipe for katsudon in yuri's slanted handwriting, with a phone number at the bottom scrawled in biro, all on the back of a receipt for a suit.
and victor picked it up.
•
yuri could smell a familiar smell; before he knew it, he was no longer lying on victor nikiforov's grey couch in his t-shirt, but was in the kitchen of his old home, mari brushing the flour out of his hair as he giggled by his mother's knees, listening to the sizzling of the pan and his mother humming, whilst he watched mari's little white dress blow on the washing line.
yuri picked himself up from the couch, thinking of the picture he had up in victor's bedroom in that thin black bag - of mari and his mother - as he made his way over to kitchen, brushing back his hair that was tousled from sleep.
"so you can cook," he smiled softly, leaning against the doorway. victor looked over his shoulder at yuri and laughed lightly, nudging the hair out of his eyes.
"neither of us have tried it yet, have we?" he teased, concentration on the food causing his voice to slip into a stronger russian accent. he cursed in russian suddenly as the pan spat, and yuri laughed, before making his way over to victor and slipping his arms around his waist, breathing in the scent of vanilla, aftershave and lemon.
"add more salt," yuri murmured sleepily, and kissed victor's shoulder through his t-shirt, standing up on his toes to do so.
"you getting déjà vu here, baby?" victor asked, and yuri could have sworn he had heard him say that before.
"ok then," victor then said with a laugh like a little child, hand on the small of yuri's back. "you ready to try this? it's going to be shit, just to want you - "
"shush," yuri laughed, and served two bowls and placed them on the table.
"prepare yourself," victor joked, and yuri rolled his eyes and took a bite.
"fuck," victor said, surprised. "that's - "
"vkusno," yuri smiled to himself, before glancing at victor. "that's how you say it, right? it's what you said last time...either it mean "amazing" or something or i just got swore in russian."
victor laughed, and nodded.
"that's how you say it, baby, yes. shit, i can cook."
"you can cook," yuri repeated, and took another bite. "you can cook good."
victor put down his fork, and put his hand over yuri's.
"you...um..." he started off, and yuri looked at him with his chocolate eyes. "you never really told me about your mom...i mean...you don't have to..."
"is this the part in the movie where i tell you my life story?" yuri asked the teasing smile, but victor could see by the glint in his eyes that talking about his mother had affected him.
"we don't have to if you don't want to," victor said softly. "but if you do, i'm right here, yuri, you heard what i said, hm? i'm never leaving you again."
yuri paused, before he nodded and smiled at victor sadly.
"my mother and my sister are dead," he said bluntly, with a shallow laugh. "died when i was...about...six? five?"
victor tightened his grip on yuri's hand on the table, his thumb moving backwards and forwards over his knuckles.
"car accident, ever the cliché," yuri went on, shaking the hair out of his eyes. "left me with just my father."
yuri paused, and victor could see that there was something coming.
"do you know," yuri laughed, looking down at the floor and shaking his head, "my mother used to do this thing where she'd arrange flowers in the vase according to their colour. she used to always by two colours in a bouquet,her favourite being lilac and yellow. the lilac always went on the left side, if you were looking at the table this way, and the yellow on the right."
yuri ran his tongue over his bottom lip, and looked up once again, but he wasn't looking at victor.
"after what happened, my aunt brought flowers every week when she came to check on us, because my father didn't bother with the house, or with me."
yuri paused again, and victor's thumb stopped moving across his knuckles.
"my aunt never arranged them like my mother used to," yuri said simply, brushing back his hair.
"yuri - " victor started.
"i'm fine," he said with a shake of the head, victor's t -shirt slipping to one side to reveal the bare skin of his shoulder once more. yuri took a breath, before he continued.
"i'm a cliché, victor. after what happened to my mother and my sister, my father got drunk a lot, got angry a lot. i'd stared figure-skating when i was younger, when my mother and mari were alive, but i started practicing more and more often so that i didn't have to go home. and that's where i met akio."
"akio?" victor asked, and his thumb started moving across yuri's knuckles once again, to comfort him.
"tanaka," yuri replied, putting both empty bowls in the sink and leaning against the counter. "akio tanaka. was my boyfriend back when i was thirteen...up until i was nearly seventeen."
victor felt a surge of anger when he saw how hurt yuri looked.
"did he hit you?" he demanded, getting to his feet immediately, but yuri shook his head.
"only once," he said, rubbing his bare arms and eyes focused on the corner of the kitchen, behind the silver lamp to the right of the table. "the night it all went wrong, i guess. well, it had been going wrong before that night, but it was then that i ran away, and celestino ended up finding me."
victor held his breath, anger at akio tanaka tightening his chest.
"what happened?" he barely managed to get out, and yuri sighed, eyes still on the section of wall behind the lamp.
"when i met akio when i was thirteen and he was fifteen, he started to help me and my friend yuko skate, because he was better than the both of us. then, when yuko got a professional coach, he offered to teach me. for free, because he knew my father didn't bother with me anymore. so he did, and then he became my boyfriend...you don't need details about that...and i started to live with him...because he had his own place by the time he was sixteen and...my father didn't take kindly when he found out i had a boyfriend..."
victor stiffened, and above the anger he was trying to control for yuri's sake, he could hear his own father's voice.
"he likes boys, huh? so he's fucking gay and looks like a fucking girl too? then he's no son of mine, anya."
" - i was fourteen," yuri continued after another pause, still rubbing both his arms. "and i thought...you know...that i loved him and whatever...he made me feel wanted i guess..."
yuri hesitated after he said that, and sighed.
"he took my virginity when i was fifteen."
anger ruled over victor's body once again.
"he did what?" victor demanded, scarcely able to breathe. "y-yuri, i mean, did you want to - "
"i did," yuri said quietly, and god, was victor angry.
"it's still illegal, yuri, jesus christ. how could he? he was an adult and you were a minor - "
"i thought he loved me," yuri said, finally meeting victor's angry blue eye. "he said he did...and he wanted to show me that he did...i didn't want to at first, yeah, but...he made me feel...wanted, loved and appreciated...when nobody else did..."
"he took advantage of you," victor seethed, digging his nails into his palms until they drew blood to steady himself. yuri looked down at the floor again, and his soft, dark, dark hair feel into his face and hid his eyes from victor.
"i stayed with him for two years," yuri went on, "and my father couldn't have given a shit where i was. he was my coach, and i started doing competitions..."
yuri closed his eyes, and shook his head. victor's fists clenched by his sides, so angry with what the world had put his yuri through.
his angel.
"he was pushing me a little too hard...wanted me to be as good as you, victor..."
victor winced.
"...said i needed to lose weight...even though i had the skater's body i needed...made me practice until my feet were bleeding more than once..."
yuri bit his lip.
"but i kept trying...pushing myself...because i wanted to make him proud of me...to show that i loved him too...but then..."
he took another breath, and rubbed his forehead as if he were suffering from the same comedown as victor.
"...we'd been fighting for a while before...i told him he was pushing me too hard...he told me i was ungrateful...all that kind of thing...told
me to at least try and make him proud of me...and then i fell on the ice...on television..."
yuri opened his big brown eyes, but didn't look over at victor.
"...wouldn't talk to me...shouted at me..."
yuri winced as if he could hear him.
"...told me i was a good fuck but worth nothing else...good for nothing else...i shouted back at him...he hit me...said he could find someone else to fuck instead of someone worthless like me...so i ran away...again...ended up at that afterparty they have for skaters...got drunk...when around and offered myself up for other people...because i wanted to feel loved, wanted and appreciated again...ended up on the streets with nowhere to go...and celestino found me..."
yuri swallows hard, and the hair in his eyes his his tears from victor.
"...he'd been at the party...thought i was selling myself for money...said he could offer me a better life, would you believe it...and that's it..."
his anger took control, and victor threw down the kitchen chair he had been clenched the back of to try and calm himself down and kicked it hard, as he had done to celestino cialdini in that ground floor apartment, before he stormed out of the room without another word, and slammed the front door behind him.
•
victor stood outside in the pouring rain, chest heaving, and screamed up at the grey sky. before he knew it, victor nikiforov was kneeling on the pavement and screaming at the top of his lungs, punching at the sidewalk until his knuckles were bleeding, as celestino cialdini had made his angel bleed.
he was screaming, because he couldn't understand why the world had been so cruel to yuri katsuki.
it had given him more money than he could have ever wanted, and victor wasted it away on cocaine and alcohol because he was so bored with it all, whilst someone as beautiful as yuri katsuki suffered like his angel had suffered for years.
the blood ran down his hands, mingling with the rainwater, and victor simply knelt in the pooling water hair soaked, tears of anger and hurt for his angel running down his face with the rain.
you promised him.
you promised him, victor.
you promised that you wouldn't leave him.
victor wiped away the water from his face, and the taste of blood from his knuckles stained his tongue.
he needs you.
he needs you, victor.
he's inside the house and he needs you.
victor slowly got to his feet, drenched, pushed the hair out of his eyes with shaking, bloodied fingers, and heading back inside the house.
"yuri?"
water tinged with red dripping onto the hall floor as victor started slowly towards, then up, the stairs.
he found yuri sitting up on the bed, knees drawn to his chest, looking at some photograph amidst dishevelled bedsheets.
victor sighed at the sight of his angel sitting in the dark alone, and without a word he got up on the bed beside him, and pulling yuri into his arms so that he lay against his shoulder, stroking his hair and leaving it streaked with rain and blood.
"is that your mother?" he asked softly, kissing the top of yuri's head. "and...mari, right?"
yuri nodded, and put the photograph onto the table beside the bed, before lying back against victor once more, sighing heavily.
"you're bleeding," he said hurriedly, taking victor's hand in his.
"we've seen each other beaten and bloody a lot before, baby boy," victor laughed, earning a small smile from yuri. "we ought to be used to it by now."
"what happened?" yuri whispered, lying back in victor's arms, and victor sighed at how good it felt to hold his yuri in his arms.
"i got angry," he replied quietly. "because of what that akio tanaka did to you."
yuri said nothing, only lay close to victor, tears sinking into his shirt masked by the mass of rainwater.
"i've probably met the fucking bastard before, the number of fucking competitions i've done," victor seethed. "i've probably spoken to that motherfucker, and he was probably still living with you, and - "
"ssh," yuri quietened him down, and victor could feel anger subside, leaving him with a lump on his throat.
"a fucking whore? because that's all you are, yuri. a fucking whore. using your body for sex, huh? do you even know what love is, yuri? jesus, yuri, you sell yourself for money. its fucking disgusting"
"i'm just as bad as him," victor whispered tearfully into yuri's hair. yuri sat up, and looked at him with his big brown eyes, hidden by his soft, dark, dark hair, through the darkness of the room.
"after everything i said to you...that night...yuri, how can you let me touch you after every fucking word i said to you..."
victor ran a hand through his soaking wet hair.
"i'm just as bad as him, yuri, i'm so sorry, fuck, i - "
yuri cupped victor's wet face with both hands and kissed him, and victor kissed him back, longingly.
"i'm so sorry," he muttered over and over, but yuri kept shushing him gently, lying back in his arms with his head on victor's shoulder.
victor starting murmuring something in russian into yuri's hair, fingers still stroking the soft, dark, dark hair.
"what's that?" yuri asked quietly, and victor breathed in the scent of bubblegum.
"russian lullaby," victor murmured in response, rainwater soaking into yuri's t-shirt and into the crumpled bedsheets.
"sing it again," yuri whispered, and only when victor's fingers brushed over his face did he realise that the water streaking down his face was warm; tears, not rain, were falling down his cheeks.
so victor sang it again, fingers stroking yuri's hair delicately, kissing the top of his head, holding him close to him.
"i'm sorry, yuri," victor whispered once he had finished the song. "i know it won't do a fucking thing, but i'm sorry."
he laughed, tears welling up in his own eyes.
"no wonder you were scared to let me kiss you, let alone have sex with you. after what he did to you...throwing you away like that..."
victor took a deep breath.
"i love you, yuri katsuki. i love you - "
victor kissed his cheek softly.
" - want you - "
and the other, careful of the bruise victor knew was still there.
" - and appreciate you."
yuri tilted his head so that victor could kiss his lips, wet from the rain.
"sex is a way of showing someone, god, how much you love them," victor murmured. "more than words can express. because, god, do i love you, yuri."
yuri smiled into victor's chest, grasping at the material of his shirt.
"and, god, do i love you, victor."