OCEAN EYES
BILLIE EILISH
"victor?"
victor closed his ocean eyes, and wondered if for a moment, when he opened his eyes, that akio fucking tanaka wouldn't be lying bloodied on the floor, that there wouldn't be two drugged-up rich kids smelling like marijuana and new money on the couch, and that he'd be able to just lie beside yuri katsuki on soft white bedsheets and listen to him breathe, to inhale to scent of bubblegum and play with his soft, dark, dark hair.
he opened his eyes. yuri was still standing at the top of the stairs, wearing an oversized grey tee that victor knew probably smelt like akio's cologne, which reached down to his knees and exposed his bare legs.
"hey," victor smiled, trying not to wince because of the split lip akio had given him. he looked away from yuri, not wanting to let his gaze linger there for too long because he knew that any minute, those same blue sirens he'd driven him away from in that silver mercedes would be pulling up outside the house.
"victor...what the...fuck..."
yuri was on the bottom step, bare leg brushing against victor shoulder as he dared not get any closer to akio. one hand was on the banister, picking anxiously as the paint. his hair was gently falling into his eyes, and a little more fell from behind his ears into those chocolate eyes with every shaking, quiet breath.
victor had been right. the t-shirt smelt like akio fucking tanaka's cologne. he recognised the smell.
"why did you do this?" was all yuri managed to put together brokenly, closing his eyes as if scared to open them, pressing his lips together. he sat down on the step beside victor, the two of them staring at the door the police were sure to hammer on soon. yuri ran his hands through his hair.
god, he was beautiful, victor couldn't help but think sadly, smoking his cigarette quietly and fighting off the urge to both look at the blood on the wall or to feel the soft skin of yuri's bare shoulder, exposed by the t-shirt falling to one side, under his chapped lips; lips that tasted like nicotine and blood.
"because of what he's doing to you," victor murmured back to yuri, the two of their voices low, the voices of the two men in the room next door still shaken and still bleary from the weed between their fingers.
as he said this, victor looked down at yuri's bare arm. the ruby red dot was just hidden from sight. yuri's fingertips edged towards it, but victor pushed them away gently.
"don't," he whispered, and yuri looked away from him, eyes shining. victor stubbed out his cigarette against the wall.
"i said don't," he said, firmer, making yuri jump a little.
"don't what?" yuri whispered, voice shaking a little. he looked down towards where akio was lying, moaning almost inaudible, but victor turned his face away from him so that yuri was looking straight into his ocean eyes.
"don't be ashamed," victor said, a lump in the back of his throat - feeling that same anger, that his baby had to feel that way, that it was all his fucking fault. "please, baby. don't be. don't."
yuri smiled, and leant his forehead against victor's, sighing heavily. victor closed his eyes again, as if that would make it all alright, before he pressed his lips to yuri's forehead.
"i love you, yuri katsuki," he said, although his voice could barely be heard because of the storm raging inside him, shards of glass and lyrics to "this must be my dream" stuck in his throat.
yuri smiled, and glanced at the men in the other room. victor noticed him look shamefaced again, and sir with his legs closer together. that anger surged up again, tightening in his chest.
"did either of them hurt you?" he almost growled, drawing away from yuri instantly, getting to his feet with fists clenched.
"no, stop - "
he put his hands on victor's shoulders, to calm him down. for victor's sake, he pushed away the memory of the one in the blue asking him for a party favour the night before in exchange for a hit, and taking it without yuri properly getting out the word "okay," and tried to ignore that same man looking at his bare legs from the couch, muttering something to the other that yuri knew would be along the lines of "akio's bitch."
"neither of them did anything to me," yuri whispered to victor, and felt victor tensed muscles slacken, his breathing slow just a little. he caught sight of the man in blue looking his way and tensed up again, but yuri stopped him.
"don't," he whispered, leaning his forehead that still bore a soft, slightly chapped kiss against victor's. silver hair soaked with rain and smelling like blood and vanilla and cologne and nicotine and lemon.
victor sighed, and leant against him. because god, did holding him close after so long feel so good.
he caught sight of that blood-stained denim jacket on the couch beside the man in the blue suit, and remembered the blood on the wall.
"yuri," victor murmured, refusing to savour the feel of his soft, dark, dark hair against his fingers. yuri looked up at him, eyes wide.
"what? what is it?"
"the police," victor said, and couldn't stop himself from brushing the hair out of yuri katsuki's chocolate eyes. yuri looked down at akio, and breathed in sharply, picking at the paint on the banister again.
"they've already called them," victor said, leaning back against the wall tiredly and slipping his hands intro he pockets of his black trousers. they missed the cold feel of the metal of his lighter.
"what are you going to do?" yuri said steadily, a voice as fragile as glass but refusing to show it. victor reached out and touched his shoulder. the bare skin was warm, and soft.
he's not yours.
"wait," was all victor said, and yuri spun to look at him.
"no," yuri said, shaking his head. "no. stop it. don't."
"what?"
yuri shook his head, and started up the stairs again. victor pushed himself up from the wall, and started after him.
for some reason, the thought of letting yuri go for a second made him panic, and get angry and scared as hell. he put it down to the lack of coke, and the fact that his blood-stained denim jacket smelt like bubblegum and the blue sirens were sure to light up the house like a cigarette any minute.
"don't what," he cried, and yuri paused at the top of the stairs again, and took one step back down to look him in the ocean eyes.
"you're not going to prison," he said, voice shaking, trying to keep it steady. "not to prove some fucking point - "
"you think this is just some point?" victor shouted, and heard one of those drugged up rich kids from downstairs shout something up the stairs at him.
victor grabbed yuri's shoulders. he just had to touch him somehow, to know he was there -
because victor fucking nikiforov was scared as hell.
"i hurt him," victor said, voice threatening to shatter like that vodka bottle against the wall, "because of what he did to you. because of what he's doing to you now."
victor closed his eyes. no, everything wasn't going to be alright.
"because i fucking love you, yuri katsuki. i love you."
yuri looked up at him, and leant into his shoulder.
"i know," he whispered softly, "i know you do."
victor choked back a sob, and laughed into yuri's hair, sniffing hard as if he'd just taken a hit at one of those god-awful parties.
"god," he laughed shakily, and pulled away from yuri. "what a fucking cliché, huh, baby?"
what a fucking cliché
x
yuri laughed, tearfully, and kept one of his hands on victor's waist. he was still clinging to the scent of victor, eyes closed, as if everything would be alright when he opened them again.
"let me kiss you," victor said, and that was all yuri needed to be tipped over the edge and let those soft, slightly chapped lips meld with his own, poisonous, addiction-fuelling, beautiful.
"what does it matter?" victor said, the door of the bedroom they were in shut, the drugged-up rich kids' voices cut off as if victor and yuri were kissing underwater. "what does it matter if you can't love me?"
yuri stopped, stepped back. victor smiled at him again, ocean eyes glistening with tears.
"they're gonna lock me up," he laughed shortly, wearily, running a hand through his damp silver hair. "this is it, baby. the victor nikiforov is going away. isn't that funny?"
"don't say that," yuri said thickly, his arms around himself, still tasting like victor's lips. "you're not going to die of a drug overdose, and you're not going to prison - "
"yuri - "
"you're not leaving me," yuri said fiercely, almost desperately, and victor jumped headfirst into the waves and kissed him hard, because hell, what did it matter if everything had gone to dust, dust, fucking dust, if he could kiss yuri katsuki right then, right there, feel his body underneath his, breathe in that scent of bubblegum which drowned out the smell of akio fucking tanaka's cologne on the sheets.
"god, i love you," victor murmured against yuri's lips, their bodies a riptide swirling, running his hand up yuri's thigh and getting drunk on the feel of his soft, bare skin, getting drunk on his mouth, his soft lips, hair, eyes, lilac watercolours, the 1975, page 98.
yuri jumped up a little so that his thighs wrapped around victor's waist, and victor laid him down on the bed, pushing back that grey t-shirt, kissing yuri katsuki's neck, pushing into him, saying his name over and over and feeling watercoloursglassbubblegumthe1975whiteyellowlilac crash over him like a wave as yuri was moaning his name, kissing his mouth, his neck.
then there was silence. quiet, except for the cars passing by in the rain, and the creak of floorboard downstairs along with their soft breathing.
they didn't lie touching each other, but they were so close, lying in the same bedsheets, victor's white bloodstained shirt open, akio's grey t-shirt just reaching yuri's thighs, bare legs exposed amidst white bedsheets, dark hair in his eyes, smelling like vanilla and bubblegum, tasting like nicotine and blood, watching the dark grey of the ceiling and his fingers brushing agains victor's by his side, feeling the soft, cold skin that had smoothed over his legs, through his hair.
he opened his mouth to say something, to say anything, but just lay still and held onto the afterglow, to the feeling of victor nikiforov having shown him that he loved him and lying so close to him on that bed.
"victor - "
and then the windows flowed blue with police sirens, and the afterglow and nicotine and bubblegum and bedsheets shattered like glass against the wall.