Chapter Text
Yuuri can’t stop thinking about him.
Yes, him, because he refuses to even speak his name.
It’s been a week (five days, fourteen hours, seventeen minutes, and thirty seconds, not that Yuuri has been counting or anything). As much as he hates to admit it, it feels almost foreign without him.
His apartment is eerily quiet, lacking the telltale sounds of him shuffling around. He misses the way he would whisper sweet nothings in his ear after a long day of work. He misses his beloved pet poodle who would often stay over at the apartment. He even misses his obnoxious snoring and incessant blanket stealing.
As each day passes, he seems to miss him more, as if everything around him is purposefully trying to remind Yuuri of him: black leather, the smell of red wine, winter, even the lawyer’s cologne.
After a week of dealing with lawyers - which Yuuri quickly realizes is more overwhelming than any television drama has ever made it out to be - trying to absolve him of any relation to the article, his company has been pardoned from any connection to the article. While there is some damage to his reputation, it is only temporary - or at least that is what the lawyers have convinced him. And they are right, in some respects. Not many people have even seen the full article before it was pulled - nobody really reads the newspaper - so his company could always regain its momentum, especially after the Leroy-Yang wedding.
However, JJ and Isabella aren't as lucky. The news of their breakup has spread from blog plots to social media sites to news broadcasts. Everywhere Yuuri seems to look, there is another conversation about JJ and Isabella's rather unconventional relationship. Everything from "Isabella is a lying bitch who is only after his money" to "JJ is a greedy whore who can't keep it in his pants" to even “JJ and Isabella are genetically modified aliens here to learn about human mating rituals”. (Yes, someone has speculated if they are aliens.)
Yuuri tries to ignore all of the drama as best as he can.
For now, all he can do is focus on the wedding at hand. So if that means waking up at seven in the morning on a Saturday to drive out to some flower shop with Isabella, then so be it.
“What do you think of these?” Isabella asks, standing in front of one of the planters.
Yuuri stills.
Orchids.
Of course it’s orchids.
He coughs, trying to hide the tears begin to pool up in his eyes. He shouldn’t be so caught up about a month long relationship - if he can even call what ever he had with Victor that in the first place. He has leftovers in his fridge longer than he’s seen Victor! (He really needs to take those out before they start to stink up the fridge).
So why does he care so much?
It seems that no matter what he does - and he has seriously tries everything from eating away his worries to binge watching anime - he can’t escape from Victor.
“They’re beautiful,” he replies lamely. He knows it doesn’t sound convincing in the slightest, but he tries to fake his interest for her. It's the least he could after ruining her life, after all.
Because Isabella doesn’t deserve any more negativity, especially after the release of the article. Even if he doesn’t want to be here; even if he wants to be cuddled in his bed with his only bottle of wine, drowning his sorrows in a binge watch of J-dramas.
He will put aside his desires for Isabella. It’s what he does best.
“Oh, that’s good to know," she chirps, a smile spreading onto her lips. She takes out her phone and snaps a picture of the flower, making sure to capture the perfect angle. She taps on her phone, sending the picture to JJ for his opinion before tucking her phone in her pocket and walking to a new set of flowers.
This has been going on for hours. Yuuri wishes she could be more decisive. The fresh scent of flowers and dirt is becoming overwhelming.
She stops in front of a stand of a pot of carnations. They have yet to start budding but Isabella is interested all the same. Yuuri knows that they aren't exactly common flowers, especially not for a wedding.
"These are nice, right?" she asks innocently.
Yuuri squints at the tag, trying to read the name. "Dianthus caryophyllus, or carnations," he recites easily. They aren't traditional wedding flowers - they are often deemed as slightly poisonous - but they are beautiful regardless.
"Oh, I don't know if the family wants those," she admits. She turns to Yuuri before asking "what do you think?"
"There are other flowers if you want," he tells her absentmindedly. He picks at the skin around his nails, finding someway to occupy his attention than the flowers.
"That's good!" she says with a simple nod.
She looks down at the flowers, her eyes fixated on the carnations before walking towards a row of roses. Yuuri follows her, hoping that roses will please her high expectations.
Isabella exhales through her nose, loud enough for Yuuri to hear. "It’s just that I’m so nervous, especially with the whole scandal and all,” she frets.
“What do you mean?” Yuuri asks naively. He knows what she means - he wouldn't have to deal with lawyers and press and JJ’s parents if he didn't.
Isabella sighs and begins to walk down the row of roses, her hand grazing the petals of each one as she does so. She stops in front of a bouquet of white roses, her hand teasing the petals. Her fingers expertly avoid the thorns when she picks up one of the roses and twirls it between two of her fingers.
She doesn’t look at him when she asks “do you think I’m making the right choice?”
"With the flowers?" Yuuri asks innocently. He knows she's not referring to the flowers, but he tries to keep the mood light and casual. He doesn't exactly want another repeat of last week's fiasco.
Isabella lets out a nervous laugh. “No. I mean, do you think I’m too young to be getting married?"
Yuuri pauses, unsure of how to proceed. It isn’t until Isabella voices her frustration that Yuuri really thinks about it. 19 is basically a child, after all.
There are two real routes he could take. For starters, he could lie like he always has, trying to be much more safe than possibly offending his clients. He could tell her that 19 is a perfectly acceptable age. His last clients, his childhood friend, even his parents got married are ages even younger than JJ and Isabella. Besides, lots of people are married before they even reach 18, so he really shouldn’t be so shocked by this at all.
Or, the second option is that he can let out his silent thoughts. He can scold her and remind her that 19 is a rather young age to get married; that she should pursue a job and a degree before even thinking about marriage.
"No, you’re never too young or old to love,” he settles for. It doesn’t exactly answer the question, so he glances at her to see her reaction.
Isabella, however, doesn’t seem convinced. She turns around to face Yuuri, her eyes locking onto his.
“Well how old were you when you fell in love?” she asks curiously.
Yuuri stills.
He doesn’t know the first time he fell in love. He supposes he could say age five when he fell in love with his family’s katsudon. He supposes he could laugh and reply with age ten when he fell in love with planning weddings. Isabella would find some humour in that, at least.
But the age when he fell in love with someone he wants to marry? That’s not as clear.
He supposes if Isabella had asked a week ago, he would’ve said 24. And if he is being honest, he should say 24. He wants to say 24, he truly does, but he isn’t sure he can say that anymore. Honestly, he’s not sure he believes in love anymore.
Yuuri picks up a lone orchid by the stem. He turns it around, admiring the long stamens and curved edges of the petals. He knows it’s the same flowers Victor insists on gifting to him.
He shakes his head, trying to rid himself of any traces of Victor.
“I haven’t been in love yet,” he chokes out, as if his body physically doesn't want to say it. It should simple response, one that shouldn’t elicit too many questions. It is an innocent question after all and he hopes that they can talk about something else.
“Oh Yuuri, it’s okay,” she assures him.
She places a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. Yuuri relaxes trying to find some solace in that, at least. If anything, at least he has whatever is left of his career.
“You’ll find someone,” Isabella continues. “And when you do they can be your plus one.”
Yuuri looks to the ground. It’s tiled with a layer of dirt on it and some flower petals. He tries to avoid her worried look as he brushes some of the stray dirt around.
He thinks about how he had a plus one, once upon a time. He is - rather was -charming and stunning and absolutely perfect. But he is a thing of the past.
He knows he shouldn’t be thinking about him as much as he. They may have kissed, went on a few dates, and at one point called each other boyfriends. He would hardly call that much of a committed relationships. He’s had a longer - possibly more intimate - relationship with strangers than he did with Victor.
So why does he stay awake at night, longing to be loved again? Why does his heart ache at the mere thought of Victor Nikiforov?
Why is he so miserable without him?
“Oh no, I’m not interested right now,” he admits.
He plays with the edges of his sleeve, his hands tugging at the loose strings. He wants to yank every thread from the shirt, letting the shirt unravel until it is nothing more than unusable pieces. He supposes it would be one more thing to add to the ever expanding list of things unraveling around him.
“Don’t be shy. You’re a handsome guy with a steady job and anyone would be lucky to have you,” she encourages. She clasps a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to be comforting.
Yuuri only stills, his muscles tense from the contact. He doesn’t think he physically can trust anyone with his heart again.
Not after Victor.
Isabella, however, doesn't seem to get the hint and keeps her hand on his tense shoulder. "How about I set you up with one of my bridesmaids?” she asks, giving him a slight nudge. “I think you’d like Evgenia. She’s a skater like JJ.”
“Oh, err,” Yuuri sputters. His face flushes, his entire face turning an embarassing shade of red. “I’m not-”
“Oh, you’re gay,” she interrupts, covering her hands over her mouth. “I’m sorry!”
“It’s okay,” Yuuri assures her. He offers her a smile out of courtesy to show that he is hardly offended by her assumption, but it is unbelievably fake and forced. He wonders if she will notice.
He wonders if she has even noticed how different he has been acting in general. Even someone as dense as JJ has to have noticed by now.
Yuuri is empty.
He silently wonders if his life has always been this empty. He wonders if he has been so immune to it all. He wonders how he hasn’t noticed before. He supposes sleeping alone in bed, having no one to wake up to will do that to a person.
He just needs time to readjust to that, however impossible that may be.
She doesn’t seem to notice because she continues by asking “how about I set you up with JJ’s reporter. He’s mighty handsome and pretty famous too. I hear he has a thing for wedding planners. I think his name is Ivan or Victor or something really Russian.”
Yuuri swallows.
Of course she has to bring him up.
Of fucking course.
Of all the possible people Isabella could possibly set him up with, it has to be the one person he is trying so desperately to avoid.
"I’m sorry but I don’t think we’d get along,” he chokes out, trying to hold back from crying.
It’s stupid and immature - he knows that it is - but he can't help but feel the tears begin to pool in the corners of his eyes, threatening to cascade down his face. He pushes up his glasses in a feeble attempt to stop his tears (or at the very least, try to cover them with his large lenses). He isn’t going to cry over Victor, not in a flower shop, not in front of Isabella, not ever.
Victor doesn't deserve his tears. He is nothing more than memories that will fade into oblivion.
“Besides, I have more important things to worry about,” he quickly deflects.
Isabella tilts her head to the right.
“Like who is sitting at which table and whether these flowers will be able to come in time,” Yuuri explains. He forces a smile, hoping his lazy transition is enough to deter the conversation away from his failed relationship.
“Oh Yuuri,” she begins. She offers him a small smile, one that doesn't reach her eyes.
Yuuri’s smile dims.
"You’re too thoughtful.” She bounces on the balls of her feet before adding "but we’re postponing off the wedding.”
Yuuri’s eyes widen.
Is he hearing her correctly?
They are going to postpone the wedding!?
He must be dreaming - or rather, having a nightmare. That is the only logical explanation.
"You’re…what!?” Yuuri blurts, gaping at her.
He can't believe what he is hearing. Okay, maybe after the entire scandal he can believe that they may want to call off the wedding, but he would never think she would do it willingly.
For the few months he has known them, he knows they have discussed nothing else but the wedding. It seems that Yuuri's attention has been solely on them. Everything from choosing the tuxedo to choreographing the skating routine to even picking out the cake, Yuuri has done.
He’s neglected his own life for theirs.
And now they want to postpone it all?
“It’s just not the right time. It’s too much too soon, you know,” she explains. She walks down the aisle of flowers, her heels clicking on the tiles as she walks further and further away.
“I…” Yuuri begins, stumbling for the right thing to say.
What does one even say in this situation? An apology? A confession? A long explanation about how he is completely at fault?
He wonders if he should he tell her the truth - the full truth. How he's the reason they're breaking up. How he is the one that told Victor that they may not love each other. How he is the reason that her relationship has been ruined because of him.
Where does he even start?
Isabella, however, seems to know exactly where.
“You know, you were right," she says offhandedly. Her hands run over the petals of each flower as she continues down the aisle.
He scowls at the that.
Right?
He hasn't been right about anything lately: about JJ's relationship, about the wedding, even about his own failed relationship. So what could he possibly be right about when he hasn't exactly said anything?
“About what?” he asks carefully. He curiously follows her lead as she continues towards the end of the row of flowers.
Isabella stops at the back corner. She looks over her shoulder, as if someone will hear her if she says it too loud. “That we shouldn’t be getting married,” she confesses.
Yuuri's mouth hangs open. He knows it is rude to gawk - especially in a public and professional setting - but he finds himself doing so anyways.
A million thoughts run through his head, trying to supply him with the right words to say. He doesn’t think any words could even come close to articulate how he is feeling right now.
That even all the planning in the world couldn’t stop this from spiraling out of control before collapsing in front of him.
He supposes this adds just one more on his long list of failures.
“I’m sorry…what?” he finds himself asking.
She turns to him, offering a knowing smile. “I know you helped with that article.”
Yuuri opens his mouth to refute, but quickly closes it. There's no reason to lie to her about it anymore.
He may as well accept his fate now.
“It’s okay! I won't tell anyone,” she assures him with a wink. “I’m actually here to thank you.”
Yuuri raises his eyebrows. “Thank me?” he parrots, trying to understand the situation.
Why is she thanking him for ruining her relationship? It simply doesn't make sense.
The dress is perfect, the invitations are all sent, even the cake has already been selected. Besides, what is there not to love about the giant party to celebrate their love becoming recognized? This is their dream wedding.
Yuuri supposes it is his dream wedding as well. Or maybe, that’s all it ever was.
“Yeah. Thanks to you and Victor, we can call off this whole stunt and do it on our terms, without all the pressure.”
Yuuri shakes his head, his bangs falling into his eyes as he does so. “I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”
“We had Victor try to get info about our wedding to get JJ’s parents to call off the wedding. I thought he told you that. That picture, the article, it was all planned. JJ’s family just wanted a big wedding for the publicity before the Olympics. You think we wanted to get married now? I don’t even have a degree or a real job!” She leans in close to Yuuri before whispering “between you and me, JJ and I just want a small wedding.”
Yuuri stares at her, unable to comprehend what she has just told him.
The wedding?
The article?
Victor?
“I…um…”
“We didn’t mean to get you involved negatively. We actually wanted to help promote your business. We will make sure to have your name removed if that’s what you want. And you know, we will be sure to call you to plan that wedding when the time is right. We couldn’t have your business be slandered just because we don’t want to get married yet.”
Yuuri’s mouth goes dry.
“Well…I’m glad to hear everything is okay," he says logically.
“I know it’s a lot to take in but we hope everything work out for you too. With everything,” she stresses with a knowing smile.
Yuuri looks at her, locking his eyes with hers. Her blue eyes wander around the flower shop as if she is searching for something, but Yuuri isn’t sure what.
"I think it will.”
“You know. The cost of not following your heart is spending the rest of your life wishing you had.” She pauses before adding “a wise person once told me that.”
Yuuri looks down at the orchids.
“Yeah, they’re on to something.”
It becomes a big scandal when JJ and Isabella call off their wedding. It seems that wherever Yuuri turns, he can't get away from it. Everyone - from newscasters to youtubers to even professional hockey players - has an opinion about it. For the second time this month, #JJBellaBreakup trends on social media.
Some say the two have been caught in a steamy love affair; the perfect set up for a romantic comedy movie on the Hallmark channel. Others speculate that Isabella is pregnant and the marriage was supposed to make the child legitimate. It seems to be a rather popular theory on Reddit but it lacks any sort of real evidence to make it more than a rumor. Then there's a select few people that say their relationship has all been a publicity stunt so judges sympathize with JJ during his performances. They are mostly bitter skating fans who are sick of seeing him at the top of the podium.
One of the more popular theories is that they never loved each other to begin with. Yuuri wishes that were true. He just wishes they were never in love in the first place. He wishes he never accepted to plan their wedding. He wishes he never met Victor Nikiforov.
He wishes he could take it all back.
“Yuuri?” Phichit asks when Yuuri strides into the office. He furrows his eyebrows, thoroughly confused by his co-worker’s sudden appearance.
Yuuri ignores him and walks into his own office, prompting Phichit to follow him
“I thought you were supposed to be tending to JJ’s parents to pick out some napkins or something else stupid,” Phichit continues when Yuuri provides him with no explanation. “What are you doing here?”
“They won’t be needing my help anymore,” Yuuri admits, keeping his tone casual. Yuuri collapses into his office chair before adding “they called off the wedding."
Phichit gasps - actually gasps. “So it’s not a rumor; it’s official?”
Yuuri exhales, long and dramatic, but it feels good to do so.
“Yeah, I kinda always knew.”
He feels a wave of relief wash over him when he says it out loud. It shouldn't be that big of a deal anyways; many clients end up cancelling their wedding. Why should this one be any different?
“That sucks,” Phichit synthesizes.
Yuuri shrugs his shoulders.
Sure, in the short term it may be a terrible situation. His company is compromised, his relationship is beyond repair, and he is downright miserable.
Nevertheless, Yuuri finds himself not caring about the Leroy-Yang wedding. For the past week, it seems that all he has been doing; fretting over a wedding that isn’t even his. Maybe it's his overwhelming anxiety that has turned him past the point of caring. Or maybe attribute it to his crippling depression or his broken heart but he can't seem to find it in himself to care.
A few months ago, he would have, and he knows he should.
But now?
Now he feels almost relieved that he doesn't have to deal with weddings anymore, at least in the short term. He feels light, like he's walking on a cloud, like he is a bird soaring through the air. Like he's gliding on the ice with Victor again.
“So tell me everything,” Phichit insists with a naughty smile. He props himself up on Yuuri’s desk before asking “so how long have you known? How did you find out? Was it the girl in the picture? Who was the girl in the picture?”
Yuuri laughs at Phichit’s enthusiasm.
“It was actually Isabella,” he explains.
Phichit arches one eyebrow, practically asking for a further explanation.
“With blonde hair,” Yuuri clarifies. "She apparently tried to bleach it last year. Let’s just say her short hair isn’t exactly a coincidence."
Phichit crosses his left leg over his right. “So he wasn’t cheating on her?”
“No,” he says plainly.
Phichit squints his eyes at Yuuri.
“So why did they break up?" Phichit asks. He rests his head in his hands, ready to hear the real truth; not the stories that are floating around on Twitter. “Did they really not love each other? Or is Isabella actually pregnant? What are they gonna name the kid?“
"No, no, it was the opposite,” Yuuri confesses. “They loved each other too much.”
Phichit furrows his eyebrows, trying to understand Yuuri’s reasoning. “Then why did they call off the wedding?”
“They want to wait until the right time. I don’t think they want to rush into something they aren’t ready for. They want to do it on their own terms; not their parents’.”
Phichit clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “Ah, I see," he muses. He leans back, spreading his palms on the wooden desk. "So what are you gonna do now?”
Yuuri offers him a small smile.“I think I’m going to take a break.”
“A break?” Phichit repeats back.
Phichit instinctively jerks up from his relaxes pose, standing up from Yuuri’s desk. He points a finger accusingly at his friend.
“You better not be going back to Japan! You said you would stay!”
“I’m not, don’t worry,” Yuuri says, holding his hands up in a mock surrender. “I just think it’s time to step back from planning weddings.”
"What?” he asks. He places a hand on his hip, trying to remain rational about Yuuri’s decision. “But wedding planning is your life.”
“It was,” Yuuri corrects, curtly. “But now I know there’s more important things in life.”
Phichit narrows his eyes, glaring at Yuuri. “Whats more important than a stable job?” he deadpans
Yuuri shakes his head.
Yuuri couldn’t believe how blind he was before. How absolutely dense he was to the reality around him: there is more to life than planning someone else’s wedding. There is more to life than having a stable job and making money. There is more to life than making others happy at the expense of his own. Maybe he doesn't want to be a wedding planner. Maybe he never did to begin with.
And if it takes falling in love with Victor Nikiforov to learn that, then so be it.
“Love,” Yuuri he states plainly.
He lets out a long breath of air he does not realize he is holding in.
Yuuri almost feels relieved saying it. He feels lighter, as if some sort of imaginary weight has been resting on him until he admits the truth.
He is in love; there is no denying that. The overwhelming swell of emotion budding in his chest which begs to be released.
Phichit doesn’t say anything for a moment. His eyes just staring at Yuuri, calculating his next words carefully.
“Don’t tell me you’re going back with the reporter?” he finally asks. He says it softly, almost tentative, as if he doesn’t want to be right.
Yuuri doesn’t say anything; he doesn't have to. The warmth in his chest and the fast beating of his heart says it all.
“Yuuri, he ruined your life!” he whines. He dramatically throws his hands in the air as if to make some sort of point about how dire the situation truly is.
Yuuri only flinches at his statement. He hangs his head shamefully, his eyes not meeting Phichit's glare. He feels bile pooling in his stomach, burning as it begins to collect in the back of his throat. He tries to swallow the acidic feeling before it can expel itself.
He swallows it down.
Yes, Victor may have destroyed his career, he may have broken his heart, and just as well may have ruined his life. Victor is crass and cynical and absolutely impossible.
But he loves him.
And he can’t live his life through others anymore. It’s time for him to find his own love.
Phichit shakes his head. He doesn’t seem angry - maybe a bit disappointed, but certainly not angry.
"What are you going to do now?” he asks, his voice soft.
The corners of Yuuri’s lips turn upwards for the first time in what feels like a while.
“I’m going to make things right," Yuuri declares.
Phichit rolls his eyes but smiles. “If you need help, I could tag along and beat him up for making you cry." For emphasis, Phichit even curls his hands into fists and punches Yuuri on the arm.
Yuuri snorts. He can't imagine Phichit - 165 cm and 134lbs - being intimidating in the slightest. Maybe to an ant but not to Victor.
“No, I think that isn’t necessary.”
Phichit clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “You’re serious about him.”
Yuuri stares at his friend blankly. He has never been more serious about anything in his life; not his move, not his clients, not even his job as a wedding planner.
He nods his head once.
Phichit lets out a sigh. He obviously isn't pleased by Yuuri's decision but he supposes there is no use fighting it. Yuuri is far too stubborn to listen to his advice, anyways. “Well, as long as you’re happy and I’m the best man at your eventual wedding, I’m happy," he settles for.
“Thanks," Yuuri mumbles. He pulls Phichit in for a hug, wrapping his arms around his friend's neck. "For everything.”
Phichit tightens the hug. “Don’t mention it," he remarks. He unlocks himself from Yuuri's grip but keeps his hands clasped on his shoulders. "Now go get him.”
Yuuri smiles.
“But if he ever breaks your heart again, just know I’m going to kick his ass.”
Yuuri rolls his brown eyes. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
Phichit bids him goodbye, leaving Yuuri alone in his office for the last time.
He sits at his desk, carefully inspecting the room. It feels almost empty without any clients. The constant chatter from his guests is replaced with the monotonous sound of the water dripping on his windowsill and the hum of his incandescent light bulbs.
His eyes land on his cellphone lying out on the desk. He knows he shut the offending object off days ago - leaving it in his office just for good measure - when he couldn't bare to see Victor's name pop up. For now, he is thankful he didn't throw it into the freezer like he wanted to.
He ignores his onslaught on messages that awaits him when he powers the phone on. He types in Victor's number from memory, cringing that is automatically brings up his contact information with a picture and heart emojis.
He types a simple message reading the one word over and over, contemplating how to change it. However, he gives up and decides to muster up the courage to press send. He supposes that the mere possibility Victor could return his sentimentality is all he needs to press send.
He doesn’t exactly expect an immediate response so he sets the phone back down on the desk. But there will be a response; negative or positive.
And that is something, at least.
Because Yuuri does still love him, no matter what anyone else may think.
He only hopes he still loves him back.
Victor is standing on his apartment steps as Yuuri approaches, awkwardly shifting his weight to the balls of his feet.
Yuuri eyes him warily, but doesn't say anything about his appearance. He is miserable; Yuuri can tell by the mere lines under his eyes and tousled hair that he probably hasn’t slept all week. His usual pressed suit has rather obvious wrinkles and his tie is undone.
As Yuuri walks closer, he can notice all the small details. His eyes are a puffy red, rubbed tender until no more tears could possibly form. His hands are lightly shaking, making the bouquet of flowers - orchids - begin to lose its petals.
And even through all of that, he's still beautiful; he's still Victor.
"Yuuri,” Victor breathes out. The way he says his name is so somber yet so tender. It feels so familiar. And yet, it’s filled with an urgent desperation, one that pleads with every raw emotion to accept him. To stay with Victor and never let him leave.
“Victor,” Yuuri finally says. He can feel his breaths becoming more laboured, his chest tightening as he says his name. Outwardly, he tries not to show any signs of his heart deteriorating, any hint that he is breaking inside.
He wants to cradle him in his arms, to press their lips together, to whisper sweet nothings until no more words come out.
But a part of him wants to forget.
He wants to forget Victor, to move on completely, to never think about the beautiful reporter ever again. Even if it is all a misunderstanding, Victor did still use him, ruin his career, and break his heart.
And at this point, it doesn't seem possible to forget.
Victor nervously licks his lips. “Please let me explain," he begs, his voice raw.
Yuuri relaxes slightly and shifts his weight onto his left leg, waiting for him to continue. He will give him this chance; this one and only chance. There are only so many times he can give away his heart.
But he will give him this chance. It’s the least he can do; because he still loves him, he truly does, even if Victor doesn't.
"I should have told you the truth from the beginning,” he admits. He digs his hands through his bangs out of frustration.
Yuuri inhales, trying to keep his breaths steady as he waits for Victor to continue with his explanation.
Victor let's out a long breath as well. ”Isabella and JJ wanted me to write that article. They wanted a reason to postpone the wedding and so they hired me. And I wanted to use your company’s name so you would get exposure. I didn’t mean for it to back fire.”
Yuuri doesn't say anything.
“And I promise you, that all the times we spent together, it wasn’t just to get information from you. I actually like hanging out with you. Even at the ice rink, I wasn’t just trying to write this dumb article; I genuinely enjoyed being with you.”
Yuuri holds up a hand, promptly interrupting Victor’s ramblings.
“I know,” he says smoothly. ”Isabella told me.”
“She did?" he asks Yuuri, his voice raspy as he speaks. It lacks its usual sweet tone, but it's still Victor.
Yuuri nods once.
Victor taps a finger to his bottom lip. "What else did she tell you?"
Yuuri offers him a small smile. “She thinks you give JJ a run for his money in the looks department," he admits with a wink.
Victor's expression softens.
All of the previous hate, the festering despair, the sadness; it all seems to wash away at that quip. As if Yuuri can just reset time. As if nothing has changed. As if the events of the past week suddenly do not matter anymore.
And it doesn't. The only thing that matters is how they feel about each other. There is no screaming, no crying, no physical fight that only leaves them more broken than before.
He feels free.
Yuuri wonders if it can really be this easy.
Victor smirks, a smile curling on his lips. “Well she’s not wrong,” he says, puffing out his chest.
Yuuri rolls his eyes lightheartedly. “Mhmm,” he hums in agreement.
The two stand in silence for a few moments, as if they don't know what to say. Words will only spoil the moment, after all.
They remain still, their eyes locking on each other, waiting for the other to speak first.
"I’m sorry Yuuri,” Victor finally says.
Yuuri chews on his bottom lip nervously.
“And I know I can’t take back the article, and I’m sorry," Victor continues, stumbling over his words as they continue to tumble out of his mouth. "Your career is probably ruined and it’s all my fault. And if you want, I can leave here but just know that you made me feel something I thought I never thought I would. And I know you feel the same, or at least did.”
Victor curls his hands tighter around the bouquet of flowers.
“So I want to put this behind us. I should’ve been honest from the beginning. I never wanted to use you, I really do like you.”
Yuuri only stares at him, letting him continue.
“And no matter what little you think of me,” Victor continues. “I’m in love with you Yuuri.”
“You…love me?”
“Yes, Yuuri,” he assures him. He presents the bouquet to him, letting him take the flowers into his handsu “I love you. You’re incredible and absolutely perfect. And I love you.”
Yuuri accepts the flowers, cradling them in his arms. Victor takes that as a sign to move one step towards Yuuri, closing the distance between the two.
“I thought you don’t believe in love,” Yuuri whispers.
“I didn’t,” he confesses. “Until I met you.”
Yuuri tilts his head slightly upward, his eyes meeting Victor’s blue ones through his eyelashes. He misses how he seems to get lost in his eyes.
“Victor, that’s so…” he trails off, trying to find the words to express his overwhelming emotions.
“Sappy? Cliche? Crap to spin for hopeless romantics like you?” Victor suggests lightheartedly.
Yuuri lets out a light, bubbly laugh. He then proceeds to slaps him playfully on his arm with the flowers. “I was going to say perfect," he corrects.
“No, you’re perfect.”
He leans in, pressing their body together. Yuuri rests his chin on his collarbone, nuzzling his face into Victor's shoulder. He drinks in his scent: the same musky cologne and red wine that seems to linger on his body. He has never thought he would like something like that, but he supposes Victor continues to surprise him.
Victor cups his cheek. His thumb traces down his jawline, sliding down his face until meeting at his chin.
“You know I was always trying to find the perfect guy," Yuuri muses quietly. He’s not really sure if he has said that out loud or not. "And then you showed up.”
Victor raises his eyebrows, trying to look offended, but they both know it's not sincere in the slightest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” Yuuri begins, poking him on his forehead. “That you’re nothing like the man I imagined. You’re cynical and stubborn and downright impossible sometimes."
Victor pouts.
"But that makes you perfect because now I wouldn’t want anyone else."
Victor’s expression softens. He pulls Yuuri away, steadying them a few centimeters apart. He takes Yuuri’s free hand, placing a chaste kiss on his ring finger.
“That sounds a lot like a marriage proposal.”
Yuuri’s expression softens at that. He wraps his arms around Victor’s neck, pulling him into a tight embrace once more. Yuuri's glasses dig into his shoulder awkwardly but Victor doesn’t seem to mind.
"Fighting with you was the worst and best thing that ever happened to me."
He holds his at arms length, his brown eyes meeting Victor’s blue ones. He can see the small flakes of gold near the corners of his irises and he never wants to look away.
“Oh really?” Victor questions, his eyebrows raised.
“Because now I know that I love you too."
"Yuuri..." he says fondly. Victor tightens his grip around him as if he isn't there, as if this is all his imagination, as if he lets go Yuuri will disappear.
“I’m sorry for not trusting you,” Yuuri whispers into his shoulder. His eyelids flutter shut as the tears begin to fall from his eyes. They begin to leave pools on Victor’s shirt which makes Yuuri feel a tad guilty. “I was so hurt that I didn’t even want to hear what you had to say.”
He removes his glasses, trying to clean the tear stains off of the lenses with the bottom of his shirt. He knows it's feeble and that Victor probably doesn't care, but he does so out of habit.
“Shh, Yuuri, it’s okay.” He runs his hand through Yuuri’s hair, his slender fingers getting caught in the tangles. “I probably wouldn’t trust me either.”
Yuuri swipes at his eyes, trying to dry the tears with his sleeves.
“So what are you going to do now?” Yuuri asks, his voice shaky. “You don’t exactly have a story anymore with their wedding being cancelled and all.”
“I’ll just write about JJ’s skating like I used to,” Victor says, waving his hand dismissively. “And then maybe try skating for myself.”
Yuuri smiles, the corners of his lips turn upwards.
“You think I can make it to the Olympics?”
Yuuri snorts.
“And beat JJ?” Yuuri teases with a scoff. “I hardly see that happening.”
“Hey, I could become a Five Time World Champion,” Victor pouts, pursing his bottom lip forward.
He taps him on his nose. “I’d like to see you try," Yuuri says, his voice low and sultry.
“What about you?” Victor asks. “Have any new clients?”
Yuuri adverts his eyes to the floor.
“No,” he confessed bluntly.
Victor taps a finger to his own lips. “You know, I could get you some connections. It’s the least I can do for ruining your last one. I could get my friend Chris to finally settle down just for you.”
“Thanks,” Yuuri says sincerely. “But I think I’m going to take a break from planning weddings."
Victor’s eyes widen, his mouth going dry.
“Yuuri, you can’t!” he pleads.
Yuuri stares at him, mouth agape.
“What? Why?” Yuuri asks. He furrows his eyebrows, trying to understand Victor’s reasoning. He is the one who hates weddings, after all. Shouldn’t he be happy for him?
“I thought you’d be happy that I’m taking time for myself,” Yuuri continues to explain.
“No, I am. I’m ecstatic actually. Anything to get you away from those overly expensive ceremonies that are only used to exploit people's happiness for profit.”
Yuuri narrows his eyes at Victor. “So what’s the problem?”
“Well you promised to plan my wedding,” Victor whines.
“Victor I don’t-”
Victor cuts him off promptly, not wanting to hear anymore of his rambles. He bends down onto one knee, taking Yuuri's free hand into his.
“Yuuri Katsuki," he begins. A blush grows on his face, reaching far past his cheeks and up to his ears. "Will you marry me?”
Yuuri steps backwards, overwhelmed by Victor’s proposal.
This isn’t what he has expected. An apology, yes. But a proposal? And an unconventional one at that? It’s almost too much to handle.
"You don't even have rings," Yuuri blurts lamely.
Victor chuckles at his answer. “You’re right. I was thinking we could pick them out together.”
“And isn’t it a bit soon?” he rationalizes, unable to formulate a concrete answer.
Yes, he does want to marry Victor; this is what he has been waiting for his entire life. He wants to finally settle down, have a ring on his finger, and refer to himself as Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov. He wants to spend the rest of his life waking up to his light snores, falling asleep in his arms, and taking as many days to fall in love all over again.
But he also can’t marry him now; even if he does love him. Victor surely knows that. Besides, weddings need time to plan (no one knows that better than Yuuri, after all)! And as much as Phichit wants him to, he is not going to elope.
Victor tilts his head back, laughing at his response. He presses his lips against Yuuri’s knuckles.
“Of course not right now," he begins.
Victor stands from his kneeling position, his hand still grasping Yuuri’s. He begins to run his thumb over Yuuri's ring finger as if he is marking a spot for the ring to go.
"We don’t want to rush things like Isabella and JJ. But one day, I do want to see you in that speedo tux.”
Yuuri mentally face palms. He wishes that he never showed Victor his collection of wedding outfits in the first place.
“So one day, will you take my hand in marriage?”
Yuuri tugs Victor close. He closes his eyes before pressing his lips against Victor’s and drinking in the taste of his soft lips on his own. It’s chaste and innocent leaving a lingering feeling on both of their lips as they pulls away. And yet, their kiss is so intimate, so familiar, as if nothing has changed. If they are reporter and wedding planner or Yuuri and Victor or husband and husband, they will always be in love.
“I do.”