APOCALYPSE
CIGARETTES AFTER SEX
"it's late," yuri katsuki said, standing in the hallway of victor nikiforov's big, expensive white house he had bought in japan "just for the fucking hell of it." he was wearing a dun coloured felt coat, black jeans that weren't ripped at the knees, and a honey coloured tee. victor leant against the hall wall, and was glad the front door was closed because it meant he couldn't see those same streetlights that had lit up the streets when the dark-haired boy in front of him had walked away without looking back once.
"it is late," was all victor could think of saying, pulling apart the cigarette pack in his trouser pocket, before yuri headed down the hall toward the kitchen. victor followed him, breath held still as bathwater in his chest, unsure of where in hell to begin.
turning on the light, he saw yuri with a bottle of white wine in his hand, and a glass with a thin, delicate stem in the other. yuri turned his head to face victor, and gave him a knowing half-smile.
"you still haven't drunk any of it," he said with a slight laugh, gesturing to the bottle before pouring white wine into the bare glass in his hand. "you hate it, don't you? some gift or something that you can't be bothered to throw away, huh."
he swallowed, sighed, and set down the glass. victor took his hands out of his pockets, and made himself smile for something to do.
all he wanted to do was reach out and touch him.
"you're right," victor muttered, head going back against he wall as he watched yuri lean against the counter with the glass in his hand catching the bright ceiling lights, "i hate white wine."
"because it's too sweet," yuri said, voice getting a little softer, and swallows the last of the wine in his glass, "isn't that why?"
victor nodded, and yuri laughed after a pause that threatened to make victor scream; god, he just wanted things to go back to a week before, to be able to look at him, to talk to him -
he just wanted to be able to touch him.
"go on then," yuri smiled, a teasing smile that reminded victor of the boy with dark hair in a cropped top who looked at him with chocolate eyes and asked "how much?"
"go on what?" victor asked, having to clear his throat because his voice seemed to have slipped away; god, he couldn't believe that yuri was standing so close to him, after those two weeks. yuri tapped his fingers on the counter, and victor saw that his nails weren't painted lilac anymore.
"say something about how i'm as sweet as the wine," yuri said, shaking dark, dark hair that was still so soft out of his eyes. "sounds like something you'd have said to me a month ago."
he smiled, and victor laughed and shook his head, but then came the silence, and yuri drank straight out of the bottle sitting on the counter.
"it's new, right?" victor said, nodding at the coat. yuri gave a nod, soft lips whose cut had finally healed tainted with the white wine victor hated. "i preferred the black one. the thin one."
"is that so?"
"hm."
yuri set down the bottle with a click against the marble countertop, before he ran a hand through his hair and laughed gently.
"god," he started off, looking over at victor and smiling again, although it seemed tired. he leant back his head against the dark wood cupboards, and sighed heavily. "what am i doing back here?"
victor shrugged, and the pain in his chest started to gain more of a hold over him, making it hard for him to breathe.
"i don't know," he said, giving yuri a sad smile that didn't feel right; it only made the pain in his chest worse. "i don't fucking know."
yuri opened his eyes, and crossed one ankle over the other, hair falling into his eyes once more like it did when he slept on his side, victor knew.
"all the fucking bad decisions i make are because of you, nikiforov," yuri laughed, shaking his head. he wasn't looking at victor; victor couldn't tell where it was his eyes were going, but it reminded him of that night in that very kitchen yuri had told him everything about akio tanaka, his eyes on that silver lamp in the corner of the room all the while.
when yuri said that, he swore his fingers when towards where that ruby red dot from injecting heroin would have been in his forearm, under his dun-coloured coat that reached just above his knees. victor wanted a cigarette.
"i could say exactly the same thing about you, yuri," victor said, voice nearing on a whisper, as memories of his body willing him to hurt yuri in the room upstairs with blue walls after he had seen him with jj leroy played in his head.
saying yuri's name aloud had made the pain in his chest hurt like hell.
yuri didn't say anything; he dropped his hand from the edge of his forearm and raised the white wine to his soft lips again. and now victor was thinking of jj leroy, and now he was thinking of that drunken phone call he got at 2 a.m.
"you've got a boyfriend," victor said bluntly, lighting up a cigarette to try and dull the pain and craving, and yuri turned back to face victor, the corner of his mouth hinting at a smile. a hopeless smile. yuri's open coat exposed his honey-coloured tee underneath as he stopped leaning on the counter, and one hand went to the back of a kitchen chair.
"yeah," he said with a short laugh, and victor took a drag, filling up his lungs with nicotine. "yeah, i do."
"what's his name?"
"luca."
victor bit at the inside of his mouth, and his gossamer smooth accent was stronger because he was finding it harder to keep his voice level. he swore to god his hands were shaking, but he couldn't tell what emotion was nearing taking control over his body.
"what's he like?"
yuri sighed again, and took the slightest step toward victor. the room was still as water's surface. victor could almost smell the scent of bubblegum. he took another drag. yuri bit at his bottom lip.
"are we really going to do this?" he asked quietly, looking at victor with those chocolate eyes. victor shrugged; anger was winning, because love was drowning in it.
"does he know you did heroin?" victor asked, blunt again, and yuri crossed one ankle over the other once again, hands in the pockets of that new coat.
"no," he replied, the soft voice victor had longed to hear still quiet. then he looked up at victor, with a different expression. a little harder.
"and no," yuri said, his soft voice colder - only just - "he doesn't know i was a whore either."
anger jarred in victor's chest, and he had to look away from yuri, rushing his cigarette against the ashtray nearby.
"...a fucking whore..."
"don't," victor murmured, voice scarcely audible. he didn't look at yuri; he looked at the wall. "don't."
"...a fucking whore..."
"don't what - "
"...a fucking whore..."
"don't say it," victor snapped, and his voice was almost tearful; almost. yuri didn't bite at his bottom lip, but he did look down at the floor briefly.
"i know what you're going to say," victor said, trying to stop his voice from shaking, "and please, yuri, don't say it..."
victor sighed, closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair, slumping back against the wall.
"what do i have to do to get you to forget what i said, huh?" he laughed tearfully, and yuri brushed soft, dark, dark hair out of his chocolate eyes again. victor caught his eye, but couldn't look at him for long or else he knew he was going to scream.
he just want to touch him.
"so," he started off, and his body threatened to start begging for cocaine, "this boyfriend of yours...go on, tell me about him, then."
yuri bit at his nail, before looking up at the bright ceiling lights, looking so fucking beautiful that victor wanted cocaine to take his mind off of it more than anything in the world at that moment.
"he's an art student," yuri said, looking around the kitchen as if he were trying to remember what he had left behind two weeks ago, "lives in the city. doesn't listen to the 1975."
"is he as attractive as me," victor said plainly, stretching a little as if his he were getting tired after losing the effects of marijuana. yuri laughed, the same way he had when he had cried ok victor's grey sofa what felt like so long ago.
but the feeling victor had back then was still the same as it was when he watching yuri laugh in a dun coat instead of black, and when he couldn't kiss him like he had done the time before.
"at least you don't love yourself," yuri teased softly, and victor laughed, but then came the silence once more, and yuri wondered if he was going to cry like his body willed him to do.
"and you're happy with this luca, are you?" victor asked, and took the red wine from where he'd left it on the table by the balcony doors and swallowed. "are you?"
yuri looked away from him again, hand sin his coat pockets. victor swallowed down more red wine.
"are you happy, yuri?"
"do i look happy to you?" yuri said, turning to face victor, voice with an edge to it, before smiling to himself and shaking his head of dark hair. victor was taken aback, and the wine was tasteless again.
yuri breathed in sharply through his nose, as if he were about to jump into deep water, before he breathed out slow and looked down at his crossed ankles.
"my boyfriend fucks other people behind my back," yuri said, plainly, and victor couldn't begin to feel. he cleared his throat, and put down the wine with more force than he had meant to.
"does he know that you know?" victor asked, unsure of why his voice was starting to shake again, and yuri laughed again, but his voice caught at the end and he had to breathe in sharply again.
"i don't know," he said, with another hollow laugh. "maybe. i don't know. he doesn't care, victor. he doesn't care."
"then why the fuck are you with him and not me, huh?" victor laughed bitterly, as yuri turned fully to face victor, hands still in the pockets of that dun-coloured jacket.
"because at least with luca," yuri started off, his teasing voice losing its touch; faltering, "i'm expecting it. i'm expecting to smell somebody else on his clothes."
yuri shrugged sadly.
"but with you," he said, "i really believed every fucking word you said."
victor opened his mouth to say something, anything, but yuri just shook his head.
"don't," he said simply, although his voice caught a little at the end. victor moved towards him, and could just smell that sweet scent of bubblegum he had longed for, before yuri stepped away from him and towards the door.
"come on, nikiforov," he called over his shoulder softly, heading down the hall and up the stairs, "there's got to be fucking nostalgia tonight, hasn't there?"
victor leant his forehead against the doorframe of the kitchen, listening to the sound of yuri going up the stairs and willing himself to follow him.
the empty hallway smelt of bubblegum and nicotine, and it only made the pain in victor's all the more worse.
at least you don't love yourself.