Chapter Text
Otabek wasn’t lonely.
Even if they would never see each other again. Even if he still hadn’t found the words to say it. Even if he kept clinging to what once had been treasured.
Otabek wasn’t lonely, in fact he wasn’t alone.
But everything that had grown inside him wouldn’t suddenly disappear, no matter how he covered it.
*
[Nikiforov, Viktor. Age 23.]
Working at a café wasn’t the most exciting job out there but it sure was busy. Other baristas probably had far worse stories to tell than Viktor did. A smile was usually enough to calm down the angriest of clients. Even when he’d push the complicated orders to the end and pretend he’d simply forgotten them. His perceived speed after being called out made clients happier than waiting from the beginning would.
The calm after rush hour was always insanely boring, though. Since his working station was never short of impeccable, he never had anything to do but stare out the window, unless he wanted to risk the cameras catching him using his phone during work time, or —G od forbid —
leaving the register.
When the bell chimed, Viktor straightened up, immediately slapping on his brightest customer service smile. “Welcome to — Ah, Yuuri!” Viktor’s polite grin switched to genuine as soon as he recognized his friend: photography camera hanging from his neck and bass case from his back.
“Hey,” he yawned, rubbing his eyes under the thick glasses framing his eyes. “Same as always.”
Nodding, Viktor moved to prepare the syphon. “Coming right up. Are you going or returning from practice?”
“Just classes.” Yuri sat down on a stool and slumped on the bar. “The band hasn’t practiced all week. Organizing the schedule of three working college students is not as easy as it sounds.”
While the water heated, Viktor slid some pastries towards the man. “You look like a zombie, though. Has work really been that hard on you?”
“Ah.” Yuri touched the dark skin under his eyes before shaking his head and fixing his glasses. “No, I volunteered to organize the next show at Ice Castle Melody,” he chuckled, then whined, pressing his face down on the wood. “I’m doing it all myself, though! I have to call the bands, prepare the venue, order the fliers …” He paused, staring as the water slowly filled up the top chamber of the machine. Viktor poured in the ground coffee and stirred it, waiting for Yuuri to continue. “Speaking of bands, how’s yours going?”
“Oh! We have a new guitarist!” Viktor beamed. “And get ready: He’s in high school.”
Yuuri snorted. “How many high school guitarists does a band truly need? Next thing I know you’ll be the next Kidz Bop .” Once again distracted by the syphon, Yuuri watched as Viktor cut off the heat and the coffee slowly started pouring back into the bottom glass globe. “It looks like magic …”
“Maybe it is.” Viktor winked. “I’m convinced you only order this because it looks cool, better tasting my ass.” He said while serving the drink into a mug and presenting it to his friend.
After blowing on the surface and taking a careful sip, Yuuri hummed. “It does taste better. One google search and you’ll know everyone agrees.” He looked up at Viktor and blinked. “So you’re replacing Yuri with another child prodigy?”
“I think Beka is a little far from being a prodigy,” Viktor chuckled. “but no, we’re not replacing Yura. He invited the guy into the band himself, I’m so proud.” He pressed a hand over his chest and sighed. “Yura is even teaching him guitar but — Well, I guess he is our vocalist, now.”
At those words, Yuuri straightened up. “You should play in the show!”
“Huh?” Viktor looked at him, mouth still open and eyebrows raised high.
Yuuri clapped his hands together, pleading. “Please. I could use some friends there. And a band that actually knows what they’re doing.”
With a laugh, Viktor resisted a comment about how they had no idea what they were doing now that Yuri was busy fawning over their newest, most musically challenged band member. After all, a chance to play was a chance to play. “When is it? The show, I mean.”
“Next month, you still have time to fine tune the newbie.”
“So at Ice Castle Melody. Beka works there. Otabek, he’s the guy that just joined us.” Viktor smiled. “Yura has such a puppylove crush on him, it’s adorable.”
“Yuri? A crush?” Yuuri gaped. “Good. Good for him, I mean. I would’ve never imagined him crushing on someone, but I guess he is a teenager as well.”
“A high school guitarist.” Viktor reminded him with a smirk and a raised finger.
Taking a sip from his mug, Yuuri eyed Viktor up and down before speaking up. “On the topic of crushes: How are things with Chris?”
A nervous laugh made its way up from the bottom of Viktor’s chest as he awkwardly glanced around, tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear and leaned on the bar. “Chris?” he snickered. Yuuri only smirked in response. “I don’t know what he has to do with crushes. Does he have one?” Oh God, did Chris have a crush? Viktor turned to fully face his friend, burning cheeks and all. “Does he have a crush?” He asked again, serious, maybe hopeful this time.
Yuuri shrugged, sipped his coffee, then sighed pointedly. “So no progress on your part.” When Viktor adjusted his low bun and the bobby pins holding part of his bangs slicked back, he hummed. “Your hair’s getting pretty long. It’s past your collarbones now, right? Are you planning on cutting it?”
Giving his friend’s words some consideration, Viktor twirled the end of a strand between his fingers. Chris always complimented his hair, saying it was the only thing that made him fit into the rock aesthetic they all had going on, but he also said it made him look like a pretty boy with how awfully soft and silky it was. Sometimes, without any warning or prompting, he’d reach to stroke it, startling the bassist and setting his blood on fire.
There was no way he’d voice it, but Viktor liked it when Chris touched his hair. Part of him hoped it would be enough of a hook to have Chris touch him instead.
Back when they started college and Viktor’s band had fragmented into collapse, Chris had even more of a playboy reputation. Viktor had promised himself he would never fall for someone like that. He took pride in being highly logical and calculating. True to this, once he encountered Yuri's old band playing at the venue, he zeroed in on Yuri's talent. The boy clearly being a middle schooler didn't sway him at all, nor did the fact that his own band was going through a rough patch. Viktor needed an excuse to approach him and invite him into a functional band, one that was guaranteed to survive and make a name. To do that, though, first he needed a functional band.
Turns out that Chris carrying a snare into their musical theory class was enough of an excuse for Viktor to throw caution out the window and talk to him. Much to Viktor’s dismay, the pining for Chris’s ridiculously long eyelashes and skilled, slender fingers only solidified once the band gave them an excuse to hang out together week after week.
“I think I’ll keep it long for now.”
“I think it suits you.” Yuuri finished his coffee and stood up. “Alright, then. See you at the event. Can’t wait to meet this Otabek guy,” He added, digging through his pockets before Viktor stretched across the counter to swat at him.
“It’s on me! If I hadn’t given you coffee when you walked in, I’m sure you would’ve died,” Viktor chuckled, but was caught off guard when Yuuri grabbed both of his hands and brought them up to his lips, kissing two knuckles before looking into Viktor’s eyes as if his life had truly been at risk.
“You’re an angel,” he teased. Viktor’s cheeks tingled, but he held himself together. Shielding himself with his most charming smile, Viktor gave his friend a well rehearsed shrug.
“Perhaps I am.”
“I’ll text you the details, see ya!”
He watched as Yuuri left, waving at him from behind the bar.
Enduring work for another three hours before he was free to go play with the band had Viktor practically vibrating with emotion. To cope with the wait, he allowed himself to imagine their reactions once they knew about the gig. He ran more than walked through the streets all the way to the studio, grinning so wide his cheeks hurt when he greeted the lady behind the reception desk. Everyone was already waiting inside.
“You’re late, grandpa,” Yuri sneered. Viktor’s wild smile softened as his chest warmed. To most, Yuri’s words would sound mocking, but knowing how much Yuri loved Nikolai, he always took it as a compliment.
“I’m sorry, I had to close the shop.” He propped his case on one of the chairs and took out the instrument. “So what are we doing first?”
Yuri looked at Otabek and squinted. “I was showing him how to play the riff of the song I composed but,” he paused, running a hand over his hair and exhaling harshly. “Play it again.” Otabek complied without arguing, and Viktor couldn’t help but cringe. Technically he was playing the right notes on the right tempo, but … “You didn’t tune it.”
Blinking at the other, Otabek opened his mouth, then closed it with a frown. For a long moment, he did something that came very close to pouting considering Otabek’s limited range of expressions. “I did.”
Yuri rolled his eyes. “Yeah, it shows. When? Yesterday?” At Otabek’s nod, Yuri groaned.
“Oh, that won’t do,” Viktor intervened, trying to keep the boy from jumping at Otabek’s throat. “You have to tune it every time you play.” He smiled when the novice guitarist turned at him with wide eyes. Viktor knew that look well. ‘Every single time?’
“See? You never listen to me,” Yuri whined. “I told you: You have to loosen the strings after playing because otherwise they might snap and the keys will shift inside the case anyways.”
Viktor bit back a chuckle. Feeling mocked was the last thing Yuri needed while throwing a tantrum. Instead, he took out his electronic tuner and handed it to Otabek. “Here, you can use mine.”
While Otabek worked on getting his guitar back in tune, closely supervised by a grumpy Yuri, Chris cleared his throat. “Speaking of the song, I listened to it last night and it sounds dope, so I took the liberty of adding the drums.”
“Of course you did, you old man. Who else was going to do it?” Yuri lifted his head to look at him with defiance, and Viktor couldn’t help the snicker that escaped him then.
Chris pursed his lips, unamused, before pulling out a piece of paper and unfolding it. “As I was saying, I would like to show you what I came up with.”
“Drummers use sheet music too?” Otabek looked up, clearly intrigued by this revelation.
“Of course!” Chris sounded almost offended. “Come here, let me show you.” As the teen moved closer, so did Viktor. He was always fascinated by the strange reshaping of the staff symbology to accommodate for the specific needs of drumming. “See, we still use the standard arrangement, but the symbology is different.” He smirked at Otabek’s bemused noise as he looked at the notes. “From here to here it looks normal, right? Standard quarter notes, they actually tell me which drum to play.” He waited until Otabek hummed. “But then we have this freak symbol that looks like a quarter note on the F, but has an ‘x’ for a head.”
Otabek hesitated before asking. “What does it mean?”
“The ride cymbal. This one.” He pointed at one of the rightmost cymbals with the drumstick before hitting it twice. “It keeps the beat, unlike this one.” He hit a different, louder one, startling the entire band. “Heh, sorry. That’s the crash, it’s for accents.”
Otabek gaped. “That’s so cool.” He glanced back at his guitar for a second before gently caressing the membrane of one of the drums. “Why is there tape on it? Do you also tune drums?”
“Well, not to a specific pitch or tone, but yes. The tape is to make it less loud, and reduce over notes. Ah, over notes are — ”
“You’re not ditching guitar for drums,” Yuri threatened, pointing at Otabek with his index and minding the fact that Chris’s mouth was still open with half of an explanation hanging out. “you heard the grandpa: you’d still have to tune them. All of them.”
With a snicker, Chris twirled his right drumstick. “May I show you my chops now?”
Viktor stood back, not willing to go deaf just yet. He watched as Chris tapped his drumsticks twice, and Yuri played along on his guitar. Viktor was tapping his foot and bobbing his head by the time they finished, mentally planning the harmony in his head. Since Yuri had relied on the highest end of the scale, it was only logical to balance it by going the opposite direction. Adding a funky, crunchy bass line that would bridge the gap between drums and guitar, and was guaranteed to have the audience dancing without knowing why.
He reached for his bass, playing part of what he knew of Yuri’s melody and adding his own pizzazz. It worked well enough once the other two played along, but maybe if he tuned the instrument down to a G♭ instead of an F♯ he’d be right on the money.
“That sounds great!” Yuri grinned. “We just need the lyrics.”
“Why not let Otabek write them?” Viktor suggested.
“No.”
Everyone froze for a full beat. “Um …” Viktor started, but Yuri was already standing before Otabek with a frown.
“Why are you giving up so quickly?” Yuri nearly screamed.
“Maybe you’re asking too much from him.” Chris suggested.
“No! You can do it! I know you can!” Yuri spun around and pulled a thesaurus and a dictionary out of his backpack, handing them to Otabek with a determined expression. Somehow, the thought never occurred to Viktor that Yuri even owned a dictionary. Yuri was far more likely to scoff at his elaborate speech than to enhance his own vocabulary. Did he bring them just to be props for this display of temper? Impressive dramatics. Shame Yuri would likely only make it work for angry roles or he would be a magnificent actor. Oh well. “Stop being so indecisive and just put some thoughts into words.”
Otabek stared at the books. “But I’m bad at that.”
A high pitched whine from the guitarist and the books fell to the floor. He grabbed Otabek’s shoulders and met his eyes with a frown. “I want to play your song. I want that song to have a name, and for you to be able to tell whether you like it or not. So do your best.”
Otabek’s mouth tightened into a grimace. “What should I write?”
“Anything!” Viktor suggested. Even to his own ears, it sounded unhelpful. “It’s your first song, so don’t try to be deep about it, just enjoy the process!”
“What process? That’s the worst advice you could give, Viktor,” Yuri jabbed.
“Huh?” Viktor tilted his head. “Why?” Surely the most unhelpful was a bit of a stretch.
Yuri picked up the thesaurus and threw it at Viktor, who barely caught it before it hit his chest. “You just said it’s his first song! Of course he doesn’t have a process, you grandpa!” Well, fair enough.
Tapping the cover of the book, Viktor considered their options before looking at Otabek. “Then how about a love song? There’s nothing more versatile than a love song!” Yuri’s arm swung in the air and Viktor ducked down, narrowly avoiding the dictionary that thumped the wall where his head had been a second prior. He straightened up and smoothed his hair with a hand, indignant at the way adrenaline suddenly fired through his veins. “I know you like acting all edgy and stuff, Yuri, but I don’t think Otabek is the kind to write a song all about how love is a lie and it always sucks or something like that.”
“No one wants to play a stupid love song!” Viktor was about to disagree. He wanted to play a stupid love song. Hell, he’d write it himself it if Otabek kept refusing, but as Yuri whined and pulled his hair, Viktor couldn’t help but notice how forlorn Otabek had gotten all of a sudden. Maybe he was the type to write a song about heartbreak.
“What’s your muse?” Chris asked, much more helpfully.
“My muse?” Otabek turned toward the drummer. “I don’t know if I have one.”
Chris sighed. “Alright, let’s have a smoke break, Vitya.”
Ignoring the way his heart skipped a beat at having his name called in such an affectionate tone, Viktor shook his head. “Sorry,” he stammered. “I had a smoke during my lunch break. I really shouldn’t have anything more. I’ve smoked a lot this week.” He was rambling. Viktor knew he was, and there was no need to give explanations or excuses, but there was no stopping his mouth because he wanted Chris to understand that he definitely wanted to have a moment with him.
“Alright then, Yuri come with me to the store, I’ll buy you a snack or something.”
“Fine, but you didn’t set a price range,” The little demon pointed out as they walked out.
Once he was alone with Otabek, Viktor sighed. “So is love out of the question for you? You can still write a song about something else, like money or being angry at the government.” He smiled, trying to cheer the boy up.
“Do you have someone you like?” Otabek’s sudden question caused Viktor’s heart to betray him, and made his face hot with embarrassment. He shook his head, but it didn’t seem to matter, because the boy continued speaking. “If that person suddenly disappeared from this world, what would you say?” Viktor forced aside his panic at the idea of losing Chris and focused on the actual question. The sudden shift in tone almost made his teeth hurt. Those were heavy words coming from an 18 year old student. “Would you be sad? Lonely? How would you put it into words?”
“Ah,” Viktor paused, unclenching his jaw and trying to put some thought into it. How would he feel if the person he loved were to disappear? He couldn’t come up with anything over the churning of his stomach and the metallic taste in the back of his tongue. “I guess I wouldn’t know what to say.” Otabek’s sad smile was like a curveball.
“Neither do I.”
.•。・❅・。•.
[Plisetsky, Yuri. Age 17.]
When they came back from the store, Yuri couldn’t help but notice how heavy the atmosphere was in the studio. Viktor was lost in his thoughts in a corner, and Otabek was still tuning his damn guitar. Playing the C chord over and over like a sad robot.
“I think you have that one down,” he grunted. “Try playing the chorus.” Otabek complied. Yuri had been merciful and gave him a simplified version of the melody to play. It still harmonized with the rest of the band and was easy on his amateur brain. “Not bad. You’re a little off beat, but Chris wasn’t playing so …”
“So, Beka, are you writing the song? It’s alright if you don’t, we’re already an instrumental band.” Chris moved to sit behind the drums, completing Yuri’s thought without being asked to. “But I think this song in particular would really suit your voice. Yura arranged the melody with it on mind, after all.”
Yuri’s cheeks tingled when Otabek glanced at him. He shrugged. “I also accounted for it having no lyrics, so it will sound good either way.”
“I’m writing it.”
Three words were enough to make Yuri pause his plans to continue his earlier tantrum. What exactly had Viktor said that made Otabek change his mind so damn quickly? The unwavering determination in his eyes quickly becoming something that drew Yuri further in.
“Awesome! Yuuri dropped by at the café today and
—
”
Yuri snapped, irritated at the sudden topic change. “I don’t even drink coffee.” Viktor gave him a tired look before continuing.
“The other Yuri. The nicer Yuri. Yuuri Katsuki, from college.”
“Right, the one pulling a double major in photography and music.” Chris snapped his fingers, as if Yuri cared about their acquaintances.
“And video production, music is his minor.” Overkill , Yuri thought, but Viktor continued before he could sneer it aloud. “He invited us to play in the next show he’s coordinating. It’s at the Ice Castle Melody, Beka.”
Otabek nodded. “Yuuko said she’d give me a discount if my band plays there.”
“Amazing!” Viktor clapped once. “Yuuri’s gonna love that.” He pulled out his phone and started tapping the screen while he continued talking. “But either way, a song with lyrics would be a nice way to debut as a quartet, don’t you think?”
Chris was the next one to speak. “When is the show?”
“Next month.”
“And you think a month is enough time to write a song?” Yuri jumped in before they could get too excited. “Let me rephrase that: And you think he will have the lyrics finished in a month?”
♪
The next few days went by in a restless flurry. Yuri couldn’t tell why, but every time he saw Otabek, he wanted to tell him to forget about the song. Sala’s words were still fresh in his mind, and as much as he had tried to forget about them, Yuri had been careful to avoid being alone with Otabek. Not because he was afraid . Yuri’s emotions were muddled, mixed. Too much and too confusing to untangle with bare fingers. He wasn’t sure what exactly his feelings were, but fear didn't figure in, and perhaps that only made it more confusing. Should he be scared? It was just a rumor, so the logical part left in his brain said no.
Then why couldn’t he stop thinking about Otabek and an ex-boyfriend? A dead ex-boyfriend. A relationship that had been finalized without Otabek having any say on it? Why couldn’t he stop wondering how Otabek felt about it all? Replaying all of their interactions for a hint, anything . And how could Otabek be to blame about it? It didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense.
It was mind numbling.
So he had tried to make it inconspicuous. Playing basketball with Emil and The Nugget during break; making excuses about needing to buy the ingredients for dinner after practice to escape walking Otabek to the metro station; going out for a ‘walk’ during Viktor and Chris’s smoke breaks, saying he needed to stretch his legs.
Today though, Yuri mindlessly wandered over to the stairs behind the gym. He was too tired to play, having stayed up all night tossing and turning as he tried to think about what lyrics Otabek could possibly write.
When he saw Otabek nodding off with his head gently pressed to the wall, Yuri seriously considered turning around and running off.
Before he had a chance to act on that plan, though, Otabek opened his eyes. “Yuri,” he yawned. His dark eyes followed the other as he moved up the stairs and sat down in the sunshine. “Are you here to nap?”
With a nod, Yuri laid down with his back to Otabek. The air around them felt heavy, filled with a silent expectation that made Yuri’s skin crawl. An explanation for his weird behavior, perhaps an apology. It was weird being the silent one, but apparently Otabek wasn’t done questioning him. “Yuri, can I talk to you? If you’re already asleep you don’t have to answer, but there’s something that’s been on my mind lately.” How someone would be able to fall asleep so quickly escaped Yuri, but since he was given the choice, he didn’t answer. “About the lyrics: I’ve decided to give it a try. You see — ” Yuri wanted to scream. This was exactly what he had wanted to avoid all along. “ — there was someone I was in love with before. This person … Was beside me my entire life. Not anymore, though. There’s a lot I want to say, so much … about — about everything. But everything is too much.” A strange force had Yuri’s muscles pinned to the ground, even as his stomach twisted and his eyes itched. “Right now … I guess there’s no way I can find to express my feelings, but I still want to convey them.”
Otabek’s voice was strangely calm during this one sided conversation, but beneath the thin surface of composure, Yuri could almost see that pain glaring between the lines. It shone brighter with his next sentence.
“I guess you really did fall asleep.”
He hummed the song. The stupid song Yuri had helped materialize into a melody. Yuri listened while he stared at a spot on the wall. Finally he could put a name to the feeling that had made a home in the deepest pits of his stomach.
It was jealousy.