Chapter Text
Yuri hates hospitals.
He realises that now.
He's never liked them, but right now he fucking hates them. Everything about them makes his skin crawl. The air - it’s still and smells of stale disinfectant. Yuri understands the air conditioning can't be very strong here, but he sort to wants to find the nearest window, open it and fill his lungs with fresh air with gasping gulps. It's never quiet. There's beeping everywhere. There are weird cords everywhere. It's awful. He can hear sounds, footsteps, the occasional sound he cannot place. The chair he's sitting on is squeaky and uncomfortable.
And there's Otabek on the hospital bed . He's sleeping now. It's probably good that he is, but it makes Yuri feel alone, so alone. Otabek looks frail and fragile like that - strings attached to his palm, injecting some sort of pain relief to his veins, in that godawful hospital gown. He's pale.
Dread fills Yuri and he takes a deep breath, immediately regretting it because the smell makes him nauseous.
He takes Otabek's hand into his, carefully like it's a rare flower to be protected and cherished.
At least he's alive. The doctor said that the operation went well, but that could mean anything, right?
After Yuuri and Viktor drove Yuri to the hospital, they found out that Otabek needed a surgery. There was nothing wrong with him besides his shin, but that needed an operation to heal - the bones had a fracture or something. It sounds bad and awful and painful, and Yuri feels so bad . Yuuri and Viktor stayed with him as long as they could. Viktor tried to pull strings to get Otabek a private room while Yuuri got them all coffee and sandwiches to eat. Viktor fidgeted around, and, judging from his low tone, spoke to either Lilia or Yakov on the phone a couple of times. Yuuri patted Yuri on the back and walked him to the bathroom to wash up his makeup he’d already messed up by rubbing his eyes and face in frustration.
They found out where Otabek would be transferred to after his surgery and situated themselves there. Yuri had to sit in that chair in the hallway for a few hours. He tried asking the nurse nearby for information, but he didn’t know anything, either. Viktor and Yuuri tried to coax him to leave, but Yuri wouldn’t budge, of course he wouldn’t. Yuuri unzipped the hoodie he’d worn himself and put in around Yuri’s shoulders.
“Is there anything else we can do for you, Yurio?” Viktor asked. He sounded apologetic, but Yuri understood they had to leave. They had Maccachin waiting for them at home.
Yuri rubbed his eyes. “Just - can you tell everyone that I won’t be coming in tomorrow?”
Yuri probably had rehearsals and other shit, but he didn’t remember any of that now.
Viktor touched his hair - a rare occurrence of affection from him. “Of course. I’ll handle Yakov, and Yakov will handle Lilia”, he said. “We’ll come see you both later, okay?”
Now, Yuri’s sitting next to Otabek. Otabek came back from the recovery room a few hours ago, but he’s been sleeping the whole time even though the anesthesia should have worn off by now. The nurses didn’t want anyone to go harass him now, but Yuri pleaded and pleaded and pleaded , saying that he’d be quiet and that Otabek didn’t have anyone else in Russia and that he didn’t want him to wake up alone. A red-headed nurse named Kristina gave in and let Yuri in the room.
Yuri sighs. He is exhausted in a way he’s never experienced before - his skin is buzzing and he feels alive, too alive, but at the same time his bones are like lead. He feels stretched thin.
He can’t complain, though. He’s not the one sitting in a hospital bed with a freshly operated leg.
Yuri blinks. His eyes are sore and dry and he wants to rub them until the itch goes away.
The doctor that operated Otabek said that he had a fractures in his shin and that’s why they couldn’t just put him in a cast. They put bits of metal in his leg to get it to heal correctly. The doctor assured Yuri that the operation went as well as it could have, and that Yuri shouldn’t look so worried. Yuri told her that Otabek was a professional dancer. To that, the doctor didn’t comment on. She just said that Otabek will need physical therapy and a lot of rest once the cast is taken off.
But still. Fuck . Yuri feels awful. There’s something black and ugly curling inside him. It makes his head hurt and chest feel so small it was impossible to breathe properly. He wants to cry. He wants to shout. He wants to go back in time and fling himself under that prompter instead of Otabek. Or better yet, prevent himself from being a ridiculous drama queen who needs to change his choreography the night before performing.
Yuri winces. It’s fucking his fault - all of this. The exhilarated high from his performance has long ago vanished and the whole day barely feels real.
"When you wake up, I'm going to skin you alive", Yuri mutters to himself.
He touches the skin of Otabek’s knuckles, finds it cold and thin, like paper. It’s not Otabek, this is not Otabek . Yuri presses his forehead against those knuckles, as if that could magically take away his headache.
There’s a rustle of the paper-like sheets of the bed Yuri barely registers.
“That’s a nice thing to wake up to”, a voice says slowly, gruffly, a voice of a person who’s just woken up and hasn’t talked in a long time. “Your bedside manners are awful.”
Yuri’s heart skips a beat and he flips his head up to Otabek.
“Well, I’m not your nurse”, he quips because if he doesn’t say something, he’s going to fling himself in Otabek’s arms and cry at the sheer relief of hearing his voice.
Otabek is smiling, but it’s tired and crinkled at the edges. Yuri’s never seen anything so beautiful, though, and he basks in the fact that Otabek is there , looking at him, present, with him.
“You should be, though. Much prettier. Less scary”, Otabek says and tries to change his position. Yuri doesn’t know how to help, doesn’t know whether Otabek would even appreciate help, so he just sits there uncomfortably and does nothing.
“Less scary? Sorry, have we met?” Yuri huffs, ignoring the fact that Otabek calling him pretty makes him face flame red. “I’m the Ice Tiger of Russia.”
Otabek huffs a little too, looks at him under his lashes. They’re long and look so white and delicate in the pale light of the hotel room.
“You’re not the person sticking needles into my arms and touching my pee-bag”, he says, and Yuri scrunches up his nose.
“Sorry, I just don’t get off on that”, he says and reaches for the button that calls for a nurse. Otabek is awake, after all - he should be examined, right?
Otabek leans back against the pillows. “Asshole”, he mumbles as they hear the footsteps of a nurse from the hallway. “I wanted to talk to you for a moment.”
Yuri's heart clenches.
“Let the nice nurse change your pee-bag and then we can talk more”, Yuri says and pats Otabek’s leg - the healthy one. His touch lingers.
“That’s a nice description of my job”, the nurse - the red-headed that let Yuri in the room, Kristina - informs when she enters the room, and Otabek grins tiredly at her. The nurse comes round Otabek’s bed and starts tinkering with his IV.
Yuri stands up, awkward. “Um, I’m going to get coffee”, he says uncertainly. He feels like an intruder, and he would appreciate some privacy if it was him in Otabek’s place.
Otabek’s brows crease in confusion. “Will you come back?”
Yuri nods. “Yes, just - giving you some privacy”, he says and leaves before Otabek can ask anything else.
In all honesty, Yuri just needs a little bit of time to himself. He feels relieved now that Otabek is awake and Yuri can confirm he’s alright with his own eyes, but suddenly Yuri feels like the floodgates have opened. He wants to cry and the thudding in his chest won’t stop, no matter what he does.
Yuri forgoes the cafeteria and heads outside for some fresh air.
**
Otabek tries to shift his position. He looks at the cast in his right leg and sort of wants to poke it a little. He wouldn’t probably feel that, not with the all the pain-relief he’s getting at the moment.
It feels alien, but that’s it. Otabek hasn’t ever been in a hospital properly. Once he broke his wrist, but that time he and dad just went to the ER and straight home from there. He’s never lied in a hospital bed like this.
Otabek hears a thud, and he cranes his neck. It’s been almost an hour since Yuri left. Otabek reasoned himself that Yuri was probably getting something to eat, maybe go home to change clothes. He was still worried that he wasn’t going to return.
Turns out it is Yuri returning. He has a coffee in his hand - not one of those generic, white takeaway cups they gave you at the hospital cafeterias, but a big, green one. So, Yuri took a walk.
He looks absolutely spooked, though. Pale and tired, eyes red and wide open.
“Did you bring any for me?” Otabek asks and point towards Yuri’s coffee. He doesn’t actually want to drink anything and he isn’t allowed either - he’s just trying to make conversation. Yuri smiles and shakes his head. He looks sad and worn out. Otabek feels bad for him.
“Sorry, not going to smuggle you coffee. You have a problem, did you know?” Yuri says, but it’s quiet. It’s clear to Otabek that he cried just a minute ago and he wants to gather the blond in his arms and hug him until he feels better.
Yuri sits down next to Otabek’s bed.
“How do you feel?” Otabek asks, and Yuri’s eyes flash. He takes a sip of his coffee before setting in down onto a table.
“What kind of question is that? I’m supposed to be asking you that”, he argues, but his voice is doing the thing where it’s stretched thin and clear like crystal, the voice he uses when he’s stressed out and tired. Yuri seems to realise this himself too, because he clears his throat and frowns, eyes in his lap. “So how do you feel?”
A wet sniff escapes Yuri.
“I’m fine”, Otabek says and when Yuri huffs, continues: “Honestly! This wasn’t how I planned my day, but all in all? I feel okay. You don’t have to worry, Yura.”
Yuri nods, and a few hairs slid to cover his face. Otabek wants to brush them back behind his ear to see his face again.
Otabek touches Yuri’s hand instead, and it feels significant. Yuri looks like he wants to cry. Otabek feels bad, too. He’s wanted to hold Yuri’s hand for so long, but he didn’t imagine that the first time it happens would be in a hospital.
“You’re upset”, Otabek observes carefully. “Why?”
Yuri huffs and can’t quite stop a flood of angry tears from escaping from the corners of his eyes as he finally locks his eyes with Otabek’s. “ Why ? Otabek, I think I’ve just ruined your entire life by being ignorant and not looking where I go!”
Otabek sighs, but it’s more of a sympathetic sigh rather than frustrated. “Is that how you see it? It was an accident , and I did what I could. I prefer this alternative to you getting crushed under a prompter, actually.”
“But now it’s you who got crushed under it!” Yuri says, voice rising a little. He clears his throat and tries again, quieter: “It’s not okay, Beka.”
“These things happen, Yuri. It’s not your fault”, Otabek says. He tries to sound as reassuring as he can, because the last thing he ever wants is to make Yuri feel like it’s his fault.
Yuri falls quiet for a moment. His thumb brushes against Otabek’s knuckles. "Prince Charming", he mumbles.
Otabek laughs. "What?"
Yuri runs his other hand through his hair. "You're Prince Charming", he says again.
"And you're sleep deprived", Otabek observes.
"I'm not some princess who needs saving”, Yuri argues and pulls his hand from Otabek’s. Otabek instantly misses the warmth.
"I know that", Otabek says slowly. "But of course I was going to try and save you, you donkey. I wouldn’t be much of a person if I didn’t do that."
"You're just like that", Yuri says, louder. "You construct your self-worth around how much you sacrifice for other people." His voice gets caught in his throat a little.
"You think that's what this is?" Otabek asks, raising a brow. "Me, sacrificing my leg and career for you?"
"Don't make fun of me.”
"It's just a broken leg, Yuri", Otabek reassures. He desperately wants to touch Yuri, to calm him down and hold him, but Yuri has wound his hands around his middle and he’s sitting as far as he can in that uncomfortable leather chair.
"What if", Yuri says. His voice is small and thin like paper. "What if - what if you -"
Otabek lifts himself higher on the bed. “No.”
"But-"
"I mean it", Otabek says. Yuri snaps his mouth shut. "I know you worry, but I need you to stop. I need it. Right now, I'm feeling hopeful. Whether things work out or not, I have...Well, plans for future. In one way or another.”
Yuri flushes red. "I didn't mean to make you doubt anything, Beka. I just -”, he swallows. “You’re so bright and so good, and I -”
He stops and shakes his head.
Otabek gets Yuri, he really does. He’d feel just as bad if it was Yuri lying in the hospital bed like he is. But Yuri doesn’t know how lost Otabek has been for the past year. Doesn’t know what it is like to do the thing you’ve worked for for that past ten years, and feel nothing . He doesn’t want to promote himself to get work offers, doesn’t want to constantly push himself towards something he doesn’t even know. It’s frustrating when the thing he used to love becomes a chore.
Otabek loves dancing, but doing that as a profession is killing him. Otabek hoped that starting fresh in a new country would give him a semblance of control, add some newness to it. Don’t get him wrong - being around Yuri and his dancing is a true pleasure and he’s enjoyed being with him. But that’s it . He’d enjoy being with Yuri anywhere. It’s not about the dancing. Otabek wants to continue dancing with Yuri, watch him practise and talk technique with him. He just doesn’t want to have that as a career for himself anymore.
Otabek is stubborn - he’s always been. That’s why he hasn’t wanted to throw away his career just because it doesn’t feel right. He’s not going to tell Yuri that a broken leg gives him a possibility to take some time off, gather his thought and maybe start planning something else for his future if it turns out that his leg won’t handle something as physical as dancing everyday.
“This is faith, in some ways”, he says instead.
“What is?”
“Well. I told you I’d protect you, right?” Otabek clarifies. It’s a joke, of course, but it holds symbolism. They started their journey a long time ago, and there were so many ways they could have missed each other. If his Facebook hadn’t spammed him with an ad to this dance agency in St. Petersburg, he wouldn’t have applied there. If the tyres of his motorbike hadn’t been changed and the repaired said “you can ride it 5000 kilometers all the way to Russia and back without even a hint of deterioration, bro”, Otabek wouldn’t have thought of a prolonged and possibly permanent road trip to somewhere, to leave Kazakhstan. If he hadn’t seen that interview about Yuri, he wouldn’t have remembered the whole boy.
It’s all just a big series of coincidences, he knows, but right now it feels like the stars aligned.
He feels on track, somehow.
Otabek raises his brow. “Didn’t I?” He asks again when Yuri doesn’t answer.
At this, Yuri’s hand flies to his neck, where the locket hanging and Otabek sees him remembering Otabek’s promise from over ten years ago.
“You’re an idiot. A monumental, fucking idiot”, Yuri says, but Otabek can see a flush spreading to his sharp cheekbones.
“But it’s true.”
“That you’re an idiot?”
“Hah - yes, that too. But I’m going to keep you safe, alright?”
Yuri's blush reaches past the point where it's faint. He has two blotches of red on both of his cheeks, and he looks wild .
"Why do you have to say shit like that?" He sighs and avoids Otabek's gaze, biting his lips and looking down.
"Like what?"
"Like - that!" Yuri shrugs his shoulder violently and flips his head up. His eyes are shiny and he looks like he's holding back tears again.
“Don’t cry, Yura. I’m just -”, Otabek pauses. “I’m just trying to tell you that I do not care about having a broken leg it it means I can spend time with you, okay?”
Yuri makes a tiny sound, something akin to confusion and overwhelment. Then he sort of lunges forward, like a cat, and kisses him.
Kisses him.
Otabek gasps against his mouth. Yuri plants his palms against Otabek’s chest for support because he threatens to stumble and fall into his lap. That would be completely fine with Otabek any other time, but right now he can’t exactly hold Yuri’s weight, with the broken leg and all. The kiss is hasty and uncoordinated and hardly romantic; they both probably have bad breath and Otabek’s unshaved stubble is rubbing against Yuri’s cheeks that are salty with tear-stains. But it’s perfect because it’s Yuri.
“Otabek, I -” Yuri says and stops, tries to correct his posture. “I’m sorry!”
“Why would you be sorry?”
“Well - I wanted to ask you out first”, Yuri confesses. “Take you out, maybe as friends, then maybe a real date with, like, candles or some romantic shit. But then you say things like that and I - am I wrong? Do you feel the same, or - ” Yuri babbles.
Otabek can’t help but laugh and Yuri looks hurt. “No, sorry, don’t look like that! It’s just - you’ve already asked me out once.”
“What? When?”
“When we were waiting for the ambulance. You were pretty mad”, Otabek reminds him, voice clear with laughter.
Yuri blinks before his mouth curls up in a goofy smile. “Oh. right, I did do that, didn’t I?” He shifts a little, awkwardly still crouching half on top of Otabek. “I was so frustrated that you would do something that stupid just when I had found the courage to ask you out.”
Yuri’s fingers trace Otabek’s arm, carefully avoiding the place where his IV is placed. “You never gave me an answer, though.”
Otabek grins and wishes he had better mobility at the moment because he’d love to lean forward and kiss Yuri breathless again. . “Well, it will be a while before I can go anywhere with this leg, but I’m more than happy to snog you on your couch until that time.”
“And then you’ll take me somewhere on your motorbike, right? I’ve been dying to try that”, Yuri teases, and something in Otabek’s chest eases.
Otabek thinks, screw my leg . He gathers Yuri in his arms and pulls him closer despite the small hospital bed.
“Anything you want, Yura.”
Otabek breathes in and feels the wheels in his brain slowing down. He feels like he can close his eyes now and not feel like there’s a constant weight on top of his chest, a voice in his head that says he needs to keep going despite feeling tired. He finally has time to figure himself out, and he has Yuri by his side.
**
When Kristina the nurse returns an hour later to check on Otabek and finds Yuri squeezed next to Otabek’s side on that narrow bed and sees that both of the boys are asleep, she turns around at the door. She’s not supposed to let visitors do that - Yuri might accidentally kick Otabek’s broken leg or rip the IV or do something equally as bad, but she decides to give them 15 minutes of peace together. They look like they need it.
