song:
Hnscc by the 1975
victor pulled up outside the expensive white house he had bought "just for the fucking hell of it," and slammed the car door shut behind him.
yuri crossed the road after him, blood staining his hands, soft, dark, dark hair a mess, hands shaking, pulling his sleeves over his hands as he followed victor inside the house.
"why the fuck would you do it?" victor shouted, slamming the front door shut. yuri looked down at the floor, swallowing the taste of blood and alcohol and trying to stop himself from shaking.
"fucking say something," victor shouted, white shirt with the top buttons undone, dishevelled and stained with blood from his hands, from the bottle of vodka he had smashed into pieces against the wall.
"fucking whore," he shouted, and yuri could feel himself falling.
yuri.
count to three.
"why would you do it to me, yuri, huh? why the fuck would you do it to me? i love you, yuri - "
one.
"and i thought i loved you too," yuri managed to get out, voice threatening to crack like glass. victor froze, blue eyes hidden behind silver hair.
two.
"fuck," victor laughed, shaking his head and and rubbing his face over with his hands. "jesus christ, i should've let chris fuck me."
three.
yuri looked up from the floor, blood running down from his bottom lip, body shaking, falling.
"what did you say?" he asked, in a breath of a voice. victor could hear his broken, beaten conscience begging him not to hurt his angel, but the anger shouted it down.
"i said," victor went on, blood running down his fingers and onto the floor, "that i should've let chris giacometti fuck me for all you care."
"you..." yuri started off, struggling to stay above the water, "y-you...what do you - "
"he wanted to fuck me, yuri," victor said, leaning his head against the back of the front door. "and i almost let him."
one.
"but i thought of you...when he was kissing me...i thought of you..."
two.
"y-you," yuri breathed out, slipping away from the surface, "y-you let him - "
"i thought of you, yuri," victor cried, laughing bitterly. "would you fucking believe it? whilst you were letting akio tanaka put his hands in your fucking jeans - "
three.
"i didn't want him to," yuri screamed, so loud it hurt his lungs. "i didn't want him to. i told him to stop. i'm not a fucking whore. i told him to stop. i told celestino to stop. i told akio to stop. i'm not a fucking whore. i didn't want it. i wanted you. i didn't want any of it. i told him to stop. i told...i told him - "
yuri fell to his knees, unable to breathe, couldn't breathe, can't breathe.
yuri.
breathe.
yuri.
breathe.
"a fucking whore."
breathe.
"you're mine, katsuki."
breathe.
"i know you want it."
breathe.
victor felt his heart shattering like glass against a wall, and he knelt down and held yuri in his shaking arms, kissing his soft, dark, dark hair, kissing his neck, only now on which he saw bleeding bruises, kissing his cheeks, his lips, tasting blood, holding him close in his arms.
"yuri...baby...i didn't mean it...i love you...breathe...calm down...i love you...i love you, yuri katsuki...listen to me - "
victor kept kissing him, holding his face in his hands, leaving blood on one side of his face, blood on his own lips, kissing him over and over again.
"i'm so sorry...yuri...baby...listen to me...breathe...you're safe...i'm right here with you...listen to me...i love you..."
"a fucking whore."
"a fucking whore."
"a fucking whore."
yuri was drowning.
"i love you...yuri...baby...i'm sorry...i'm so, so, so sorry...baby, please, baby...please..."
breathe.
breathe, yuri.
yuri.
yuri, breathe.
yuri wasn't crying.
his whole body had gone rigid.
like glass.
stiff.
he felt victor's soft, slightly chapped lips against his soft, bruised skin.
he could hear his voice.
"...i love you..."
"a fucking whore."
"...baby..."
"a fucking whore."
yuri couldn't move.
yuri couldn't breathe.
yuri couldn't cry.
yuri couldn't scream.
celestino was right.
"...i love you..."
he doesn't love you.
"...yuri, please..."
he doesn't want you.
"...look at me..."
he doesn't appreciate you.
"...i didn't mean it..."
yuri allowed himself to lean against victor, into his soft, slightly chapped lips, and allowed himself to listen to the words that meant nothing pouring from those lips, to feel the touch that leant nothing.
for a moment, he pretended that victor nikiforov was his.
"...yuri..." victor said once more, and yuri let him kiss his lips, and then his neck, felt tears of victor's cheeks, the softness of his kiss.
diamond👄: i'll let you kiss my neck again
diamond👄: if you ever happen to fall in love with me
diamond👄: until then
diamond👄: i'll let you kiss my lips
yuri katsuki fell through the water, and watched the light from world above get further and further away from his touch.
"...y-yuri?"
he got to his feet, without saying a word, and started toward the stairs.
"yuri? w-what are you - "
before he knew it, he was running, and he was throwing clothes into that thing black bag he could barely open because he was shaking so much, because there was too much water in his lungs.
"y-yuri, don't - "
victor tried to grab the bag from him, but yuri pushed him away, grabbed the jacket from the bed that he was sure was his.
"i'm not doing this again," yuri murmured shakily under his breath, fighting off victor, stuffing clothes and whatever his hands find for him into the bag, "no, no, i'm not doing this again...not doing this again - "
"yuri - "
"no, no, i'm not...i'm not...not doing this again..."
before he knew it, yuri was running down the stairs, bag in his arms, jacket thrown on, victor nikiforov saying his name in gossamer silken russian over and over again.
"n-no, yuri - "
victor grabbed yuri by the shoulders and turned him to face him, eyes wide with panic and shining like the light above the surface with tears.
"don't..." victor murmured, and pressed his lips lightly to yuri's, soft, bubblegum, vanilla, "a fucking whore," tears, denim.
"stay close to me," victor whispered shakily, fingers brushing against yuri's face as he held him close. "please...baby...i love you...yuri katsuki..."
yuri fell deeper down, so deep that the light he longed for slipped out of sight. he broke away from victor, and he then he was out in the cold night air, slipping away from the light that was shouting for him to stay, lungs filling with water.
victor fell back against the wall, the door open and cold air seeping in as he watched yuri katsuki slip out of his sight, throat burning after screaming his name, over and over.
and victor couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't breathe, blinded by streetlights and gasping for breath.
and he wondered, if right then, right there, the victor nikiforov was going to die; his body had seized up, and he wondered if now he would finally overdose, with only the streetlights to see him die, and without the scent of bubblegum.
he took a moment, leant back, closed his eyes and screamed his lungs out, screamed and screamed, slumped against the hall wall with the door wide open and screaming, because he had lost his yuri, yuri katsuki.
his angel.
"i can't imagine the victor nikiforov crying"
and then, hands bloodied and still stinging with the softness of yuri's skin, lips still burning with the softness of yuri's lips, the victor nikiforov started to cry.
•••
yuri doesn't know how, but he's on a bus; sitting right at the back, the only passenger except one woman, who sits far at the front, black bag by his side and headphones in his ears.
"h-hello?"
"phichit? is that you?"
the phone line crackles, and the bus starts to pull away, leaving behind the smudge of expensive white houses in the distance.
"h-hi, phichit...sorry...s-sorry it's so late...at night...i just..."
"yuri? are you ok?"
yuri ran the back of his hand across his mouth, and brought away a smear of blood and chapstick.
"i-i'm fine...i just...what was the address of the apartment you and leo got...you turned eighteen, you told me..."
"y-yuri...are you alright..."
"yes, yes...i-i'm fine...i just...need a place to stay...phichit..."
he listened to the reply, before he hung up, and the 1975 started to play.
somebody else.
and yuri leant back in his seat, and drew the jacket around him.
and only when he smelt the scent of lemon, vanilla and aftershave, and saw the blood on the denim, did he realise that it was victor nikiforov's jacket; the jacket he had given yuri when he lead him away from the blue sirens and that ground floor apartment he knew all too well.
"...don't want your body..."
yuri looked out at the rain, starting to spatter down the glass, body still shaking under victor's denim jacket.
"you told me that whenever you imagined yourself leaving that apartment for good, that you'd be listening to the 1975"
and only then, breathing in the scent of victor nikiforov's blood-stained denim jacket and listening the the 1975 - as he was taken away from the one place he longed to reach, so gasp for air and bask in the light above the water - did yuri katsuki finally start to cry, sitting alone at the back of the bus, covering his blood-stained mouth, listening to somebody else by the 1975 and sobbing his heart out.
"...don't want your body but i hate to think about you with somebody else..."