Archive of Our Own

Viktor that morning had his artfully scuffed black boots on. They were barely laced over a pair of terribly tight, faded jeans, and his torso was bound in a light blue v-neck.

It brought out his eyes, Yuuri absentmindedly noticed, then turned back to his locker.

He took a breath, banished any other possible thought on that scantily clad abs and- stopped in his track. Was by any chance someone calling him? No, Phichit had a dentist appointment and would use a late pass, and the others didn’t have classes this early today. He didn’t know anyone else. And yet. “Yuuri!”

He turned around, and what he saw could’ve easily been a dream.

“Yuuri!” Viktor Nikiforov was calling, loudly, sauntering his way with one of his signature heart shaped smiles, looking open and handsome and-

What.

Gaping like a fish, Yuuri watched Viktor approach his locker, right where he was standing, and hover too close for comfort, like it wasn't the first time that Yuuri had the privilege of hearing his syrupy sweet voice from this close (and not from an acceptable distance like when you're obsessed with someone and casually listen in to their conversations).

“Yuuri,” Viktor called again, this time with a pout, as if not being noticed by him was a terrible thing and how does he know my name?

“V-Viktor,” he said, unable to keep the wonder hidden, making it come out more like a question. They had technically never talked before, and he would've winced at this slip up if he hadn't been sure that everyone in the school knew the Viktor Nikiforov’s name, if only because he was the school’s sweetheart, not to mention its most promising quarterback.

Blue eyes blinked at him curiously, and Yuuri felt himself balk. “Can-can I do something for you?” he heard his voice say, and stopped to think about it.

Viktor was in his calculus class, and, to say it mercifully, he was spectacularly failing. This was the only connection they had, so it couldn’t possibly be anything else. “Is this- is it about calculus?”

An awkward amount of time passed, but then the smile on the wonder boy's face stretched out impossibly larger.

“Yes, yes!” he chirped, maybe a little forcefully, then frowned “this is definitely about calculus!”

Yuuri pressed himself harder against his locker, hunched in on himself, and prayed for this to end quickly. Because his longtime crush was talking to him for the first time, although apparently about calculus, and he couldn't hold out for much longer without puking or fainting or straight up dying. The boots were Yuuri’s favourite, he would've hated to not see Viktor wear them again.

Viktor tucked a lock of his flowy, impossibly soft (at least, they looked like it) gray hair behind his ear, making Yuuri's fingers itch, and pleaded “Please, Yuuri, will you help me pass calculus?” he jutted his lower lip out, for good measure, and repeated “Please?” stretching out the “ea” sound a little.

Oh no. No, Yuuri thought, and said “Of course.”

Viktor’s smile could have probably lit up a whole room. “Oh!” he exclaimed, like it was an utter surprise that Yuuri would say yes. “Thank you, Yuuri!”

He couldn't help but send him a small smile back.

“Say,” Viktor seemed to pause for a little while, his long index finger tapping thoughtfully on his lip. “Are you free today after class?”

Without letting pass a beat, Yuuri nodded. He didn't actually remember if he had, but he was sure his friends would forgive him, right?

Viktor was so bright. “Wonderful!” he trilled, like it was the best thing that ever happened to him all day. Without pause, he took out his phone and put it in his hands. “So we can make out what times are best for both of us?” he offered, with a grin. Yuuri nodded dumbly, and typed out his number with trembling fingers. When he gave it back, Viktor tapped out something, looking satisfied.

“We’ll see each other at the entrance, then? I think classes are starting” he looked regretful to go. Yuuri almost believed him.

As if it was called, the bell rang. Viktor whipped his head around, patted Yuuri’s arm, and winked. “See you!” he called, and then skipped away without looking back.

Yuuri took a deep, deep breath. What exactly had happened?

He had to rest his head on the locker for a little before being able to clear it enough to start moving and go to his first period. That morning, he got his first ever lateness warning.

Unknown Number (08:15)

hiii yuuri! it’s viktor!!!

Phichit popped a fry into his mouth, chewed thoughtfully for a while, then gleefully suggested “So, you and Viktor?”

The shriek that followed could've easily been Yuuri’s, but embarrassingly enough it wasn't.

“What about Viktor?!” Yuuko stage whispered, still a little too loud, “the Viktor? Nikiforov? That Viktor?!”

Takeshi looked pained almost as much as Yuuri felt.

Phichit chuckled. “Yes, exactly that one. Heartthrob and quarterback extraordinaire, Viktor Nikiforov,” he wiggled his eyebrows “and a little birdie told me he was seen pressing an adorably flustered Katsuki Yuuri to his locker, on this beautiful morning” as on cue, Yuuko let out a soft gasp. “Isn't that right?”

How Phichit got his information was, honestly, something that Yuuri refused to question for his own sanity.

He hastily stuffed a fry in his mouth to avoid replying for a little while, but he knew his blush was enough of a telltale. When he could no longer avoid confrontation, swallowing the now mush in his mouth, he risked a glance at his friends. Even Nishigori looked interested, now.

“We were just talking,” he admitted, slowly, his eyes turning back to examine his half full plate.

“About?” Leo inquired, albeit quite gently.

Yuuri closed his eyes, set his jaw and breathed out “He asked me to help him pass calculus. We're meeting up after classes.”

A squeal made him open his eyes again. Phichit’s eyes were round as dinner plates. “He did?” he screeched, and Yuuri flushed.

Guang-Hong started fanning himself with a hand. “Oh, that’s so cliché!” he sounded delighted.

“He wants you,” Yuuko confided, coquettishly, stretching over the table to pat his arm. “That’s practically like him asking you out.”

“What?” Yuuri was flabbergasted. “No. Nope. He just needs help. He’s astoundingly bad and he doesn't want to lose his sport scholarship. I’m not that terrible at calculus, so it makes sense he wants me to help him? That’s it.”

When he looked up again, the entire table was staring at him. Pityingly, someone would say. Phichit had a frown set on his face, for sure, his eyebrows scrunched up in a way that looked almost painful.

“Yuuri,” he said, slowly “You are the best student of your calculus class.”

“That’s-” he started, but Phichit didn't let him finish. “It’s true” he chided, this time more forceful, “and you would be absolutely the best tutor anyone could ask for. But,” and at this he raised a menacing finger, as to dare him to contradict it “Viktor wants to date you. He doesn't care about failing calculus, at all. The school would fall all over itself to make sure he never left, if not else because it’s been the first time in a century we’ve made it to the nationals and it’s thanks to the guy.”

Phichit sounded like he was sure of this, but it didn't make sense. Viktor had never even talked to him, why would he want to date him, out of everyone who wanted nothing more than do just that? The guy had fans, for crying out loud. He looked like a greek god, was soft spoken and had good grades, all this while being also a football prodigy, rumoured to be already in the eyes of professional teams’ talent scouts. Why would Viktor want to date him, awkward, blabbering mess Katsuki Yuuri, chubby and with an hero worship as clear as day, who just narrowly avoided enrolling in the Viktor Nikiforov 4life club more for self preservation than actually not wanting to?

His expression might have given him away, because Seung-gil, stony Seung-gil, was now looking at him with a sort of emotion. “You're a good guy, Katsuki,” he murmured, and Phichit looked at him like he was Christmas came early.

“See?” he bubbly warbled “even Gil knows!”

As his friends all agreed decisively, Yuuri knew it was a lost cause to keep discussing about it. But secretly, he knew there was no hope.

Viktor (13:01)

so for today confirmed?? after classes?

Me (13:06)

Sure!

Viktor (13:06)

great!! see you later yuuri!!

Katsuki Yuuri was a wonder. He had this quiet way of existing, probably trying to be inconspicuous, but he shone like a bright light in a world of darkness, at least in Viktor’s eyes.

In calculus class, Viktor sat in the back, and no matter how hard he tried to listen to the monotonous professor’s voice, his eyes would always wander on the mop of black hair, the straightened back as Yuuri diligently took notes.

Viktor was smart, he could probably pass the class with his eyes closed if only he stopped being distracted and started listening.

But Yuuri was just so entrancing, and the not so little crush he was harboring since he first saw him, walking like a baby duckling in the corridor before being swept off his feet by instagram sensation Phichit Chulanont on the first day of school, was just getting worse.

Watching him laugh with his friends with glittering eyes at lunch was most possibly the peak of his days.

He would have felt like a creep (that’s exactly what you are, little Yuri would so often remind him, kicking his shin under the table whenever his ogling would get too noticeable), if only he didn't know that Yuuri sometimes looked back.

The calculus thing was totally unplanned. He just wanted to ask Yuuri out for ice cream, or a milkshake, or anything else that would strike his fancy, really. But in the heat of the moment, met with those beautiful brown eyes, every word he had carefully rehearsed fled from his mind. When Yuuri had suggested calculus, he had latched to the idea and now, thinking about it, it was absolutely the best thing ever. What was one date to a dozen, maybe more study sessions? They’d have to meet up often, and Yuuri was a genius. He would spend the days with Yuuri and would probably also pass the class with flying colours, and Yakov would get off his back for being a lazy ass. Talk about hitting two birds with a stone, he was going to hit three.

This time, when their eyes met over the crowd in the lunch cafeteria, instead of flushing and looking away like he usually would, Yuuri shot him a tentative, barely there smile, and Viktor was ruined. He gave back the most genuine grin he could muster, his heart backflipping wildly into his rib cage.

Chris, on his side, tutted, extremely delighted. “Ah, mon ami,” he purred, mockingly scolding “how rude of you to steal the cutest guy in the whole school.”

Viktor sniffed primly. Christophe was right. He was going to steal Yuuri, before anyone else could. And they would, given the chance, because Katsuki Yuuri was the talk of the whole school. He had the kind of unpolished beauty that made people whisper in wonder and want to get to know him. With his serious eyes and oversized sweaters, his large glasses always kinda smudged and his bordering on ridiculous politeness, he had stolen his fair share of hearts.

Even more than that, if you wanted to address the rumours as true.

And the most wonderful, exciting thing was that no matter who offered, Yuuri would always dodge every option of romantic interests, in the most gracious way in which you could turn down someone’s feelings.

No matter, Viktor had once overheard the left guard saying to his friends, in a wistful but gentle tone, I would’ve probably fucked it up if he had accepted my invite, I don't deserve him.

Viktor Nikiforov, co-vice president of the Katsuki Yuuri fan club, was dead set on not giving up. Hell, he probably didn't deserve him either, but he was a selfish person and had a few tricks up his sleeve.

“That’s the plan,” he muttered, eliciting a gleeful laugh from Christophe. Yuri stomped a hand on the table, barely avoiding smashing it into his own plate, and grumbled, unprompted “You and your romantic obsession, with Katsudon, of all people, sicken me.”

“Thank you, kitten, for your yet again useful input,” he seriously replied, and Otabek had to restrain him with a hand while Mila laughed exultantly as russian slander that would've put a sailor to shame resounded vaguely in his ear.

Georgi had a twinkle in his eyes that would've probably concerned him, but he was too lost in his thoughts about Yuuri to notice.

If you asked him, Viktor Nikiforov would say that, without doubt, japanese transfer Katsuki Yuuri was his soulmate. The funny part is, he completely believed it.

Yuuri looked like a vision, bundled in a scarf and a big, lumpy coat, a neutral colored beanie already stuffed on his head, waiting for him. He looked nervous, and the way he bit on his lips was absolutely enticing.

Viktor skipped to reach him, schooling his expression into the most reassuring one he had, the one where he thought about kittens and his want to protect them from anything bad. “Yuuri!” he quipped, and the boy jumped two feet in the air and flushed wildly.

Oh, god, if this was the reaction to his kittens expression…

“V-Viktor,” Yuuri said after a while, with a skittish smile, but at least he seemed a little less spooked. He then tilted his head, waiting for Viktor to give an input, probably.

“Hey,” he smiled, whipping his long hair behind his shoulders before putting on his red beanie “So I was thinking, what about the diner just down the road? Their milkshakes are really good, and I have my notes with me.”

This seemed to make him relax, because his mouth distended, and he nodded. “I have mine too. We could just quickly go over them and decide what to work on first.”

Viktor’s smile turned on full beam again. “Sounds great!”

He was going to share a milkshake with Yuuri. Or, well, they were going to take one each and maybe Yuuri’d ask him if he wanted to taste his and that would be an indirect kiss already, right?

Yuuri was watching him intently, like he was going to say something, so Viktor nodded and tried his best to look positively inquisitive.

It must have worked, because Yuuri stuttered out “Oh, uhm,” and then “do you want to listen to some music while we walk?” he held up his phone and a pair of tangled earphones, then promptly flushed.

This killed the plan of getting to know him while they walked leisurely, but Viktor couldn’t be mad about it. Also, it meant he got a peek at his music tastes, and what if Yuuri was the type to hum under his breath? Oh, Viktor would melt. “Yes!”

A quiet chuckle, then Yuuri started to untangle the earphones. Viktor watched his long fingers work through the knots, patiently and methodically, with rapt attention.

He was the kind of person that sticked the little buds directly into his ears, usually managing to tangle into the mess at least some hair and hit himself in the face in the process. But Yuuri, Yuuri slowly and surely disengaged each one and silently extended his hand for Viktor to take the one he preferred.

His palm looked so soft, Viktor had to bite the inside of his cheek to avoid caressing it for longer than it would take to snatch one and put it in his ear.

“Hope you don’t mind classical music,” Yuuri mumbled, seemingly a little self conscious, and Viktor couldn’t have that, could he?

“I love classical music!” he proclaimed, solemnly, turning his nose up, and Yuuri giggled. Oh, Viktor was a goner. He would never recover.

As they started walking, a piano started gently in his ear, the notes sweet but forlorn, getting stronger by the minute. They talked about love, sad but beautiful, pulling at his heartstrings. The tempo got livelier, transforming the sadness into promise, blooming like a flower even in the worst of winter.

As the song ended with a last, hopeful note, another one started: a tango, this time. Yuuri looked at him under his lashes, probably wanting to ask if he had to change it, but Viktor just softly shook his head and turned back his attention to the wrung out pain of the violin and accordion, drawn out with longing, and shivers came down his spine. He wondered what it was like to feel like this, stretched out thin and lost, but quickly found himself harshly pulled back down to earth when Yuuri smiled shyly at him and stopped the song. They had reached the diner.

He blinked owlishly, gathering his wits, then quickly grinned, gallantly opening the door for Yuuri, whose cheeks bloomed red yet again as he ducked his head to hide a pleased expression.

“Katsuki Yuuri,” he reproached, sitting down at a small booth when Yuuri had settled in front of him, “You have an interesting music taste, indeed.”

Yuuri laughed, and joked “Oh, you have no idea.”

Ah. “Mark me down as intrigued,” Viktor said, and there wasn’t an ounce of dishonesty in his voice.

Brown eyes sparkled in the neon light. “I could- ah, I mean, I could send you a playlist?”

“Please, do.”

As anyone could have guessed, Yuuri was impossibly smitten with Viktor.

But as that was painfully true and evident, Viktor was also an easy person to talk to, which was something he would’ve never imagined even in his wildest dreams.

They ordered milkshakes, Viktor strawberry and Yuuri mintchoc, and sipped them as they chatted aimlessly about anything that came to mind. Viktor asked if Yuuri wanted to taste his shake, and how could Yuuri say no? And wouldn’t it be impolite to not ask the same? So, apparently, they were already at the indirect kisses stage of the relationship. Yuuri would never brush his teeth again.

Viktor seemed weirdly hesitant to show his own calc notes. And that was, apparently, because they were… lacking, to say. Which meant, they were ten pages of doodles (one of which was snatched right under his nose by a surprisingly flustered Viktor, fast enough to prevent him to see that particular string of drawings) and hieroglyphics, in comparison to Yuuri’s full copybook and a half of neatly written numbers and graphics, which seemed “more like a book script than human calligraphy, Yuuri, how do you even do that?”

Yuuri had pinched his nose, laughed to tears, and said “Okay, we will use my notes.”

To go through them together, Yuuri had to slide up next to Viktor, pressed against him, and how had he managed to not have a complete meltdown was a mystery. He could feel every point of contact, like hot needles pinning him down and making him sweat.

Viktor’s problem with calculus, apparently, was- that he never heard a word the professor had uttered. Not one.

And while that was explanatory of why school prodigy Viktor Nikiforov was failing a class, it was also incredibly disheartening.

“We’ll have to start from scratch,” he said, and Viktor moaned in disbelief, but he didn't seem as defeated as Yuuri felt. Sure, Yuuri was kind of good, but would he be enough to make someone learn an entire subject?

Despite that, Yuuri found in himself no desire to hide and give up, and that was almost a miracle in itself. Most of all, he didn't want to disappoint Viktor. Viktor, who had been so sweet to talk to him, if only to ask for help, but Yuuri knew that asking for help was sometimes the most difficult task to complete. Asking for help was baring your soul, in a way, and even if it was just about being really bad at calculus Yuuri felt like he wanted Viktor to know he deserved that trust.

“We’ll have to meet up at least once a day for this to work,” he tried to maintain his tone neutral, instead of elated, but it seemed like that had failed because on Viktor’s face a sly smirk appeared.

“Looks like you're stuck with me,” he apologized, sounding not sorry at all.

Yuuri could relate.

After paying for both milkshakes, because that was the bare minimum after making Yuuri vow to ingrain into him half a year of classes, Viktor insisted to walk him home.

Yuuri tried to decline with all his might, but his might was not all that much to begin with, and it was simply enchanting.

“But how will you get home? It’s getting dark,” he argued, almost halfway to defeated.

Viktor winked. “It’s not that dark yet, and I know one or two things about self defense.”

“No way I’ll let you go home by yourself when you say things like that, Jackie Chan” Yuuri chuckled, and did he just insult him? They had only spent a day together and guy was already sassing him. Oh, this was gonna be good.

Viktor shrugged, amused. “Well, there are not many other options, are there?”

Yuuri looked thoughtful for a moment. His scrunched up nose was the best thing Viktor had ever seen. There was a list, and Yuuri doing things had taken the first five places already. So deep into his thoughts, Viktor did not notice when Yuuri’s face lit up, but he heard it all right when he shouted “I know!”

It ended with Viktor fighting an heart attack, Yuuri laughing his ass off and them arriving sweaty and flushed at Yuutopia Katsuki, the traditional onsen owned by Yuuri’s parents. “Wait just one sec!” Yuuri said, and ran into the building, leaving Viktor confusedly staring at the door who had just closed on his nose.

It was not long later than a girl no more than five years older than them appeared through the doorway, her blonde and brown hair tied back from her forehead and a cigarette between her lips, followed by a terribly flustered Yuuri.

“V-Viktor, I hope it’s not a problem if my sister Mari brings you home,” he mumbled, looking down, and Viktor was crushed. Had someone reset Katsuki Yuuri while he wasn’t looking? It was like today had never happened.

But, whatever it was, Viktor had no time to find out. He smiled at the girl, Mari? And said, in the most polite tone he had, “That would be very generous of you, thank you.”

Mari just clicked her tongue. Okay. He could work with that. Maybe.

“I can’t come with you because I have to help out my parents with dinner,” Yuuri sighed, glancing behind him and then shooting an apologetic smile Viktor’s way. “But we’ll see each other tomorrow?” he sounded so hopeful every crushing doubt Viktor had constructed in those two eventful minutes just melted right away.

His smile was bright like the sun when he bellowed “Of course! Have a good night, Yuuri!”

And Yuuri kept smiling, waved a little and reddened even more.

Without a word, Mari waited for him to settle down on the shotgun seat of the battered old berlina, then started the engine. The car had clearly seen better days, the red paint scratched and missing in some places, but it looked well loved. A photo of a family was sitting on the dashboard, but Viktor didn’t want to pry. He’d hope Yuuri would show him baby photos, one day, without him having to snoop up, so he kept quiet and kept his hands in place.

The silence was starting to get unnerving. Viktor loved chatter, yes, but he also knew how to appreciate the absence of it. This, though, this was not a relaxed lull, this was a charged tension, the one just before a shovel talk.

Wasn’t it a little too early for it, given that he and Yuuri had technically just started talking today? Of course, Viktor had a crush on him for too long to count and definitely wanted to marry him once they had the possibility, but Mari shouldn’t know that, right? Right?

Then again, it was like pulling a tooth. He figured the earlier the better.

“So, you’re Viktor,” Mari puffed a cloud of smoke and peered at him through it. There it was.

“Yes, ma’am.” Politeness would get you through hell, that’s what he believed.

But Mari laughed, more a cough than anything else. “Please,” she said, looking at the road ahead, “I’m no madam.”

That wasn’t a real reply. It wasn’t a don’t call me madam but it wasn’t a call me Mari either. Oh god. Had the first impression been so bad? Was he that hopelessly ugly?

When nothing else came, he figured he had failed the test already. He would never be able to ask for Yuuri’s hand in the proper way. They’d have to run away and marry in some godawful little town and live in a shack.

Through the desperation, he gave input to where his house was, and Mari followed without any other prompts.

At approximately five hundred metres from the sweet call of home, Mari said, “You seem like a good kid,” and stopped. Viktor breathed through his nose.

The berlina parked gently on the side of the road. He would’ve been out of the door and into the house in a blink, but Mari stopped him with a light hand on his arm. Their eyes met.

“Yuuri-” Mari started, rubbed a hand on her face, “Yuuri is a lot. But he’s the best thing that will ever happen to you.” She looked dead serious, and Viktor wouldn’t be able to doubt her even if he hadn’t been thinking that all along anyway. “What I mean to say is, take care of him.”

Viktor just started nodding wildly. Of course. “That was my plan,” he said, then inclined his head. “Thanks, M…” he hesitated, but only for a moment “Mari.”

She smiled at him for the first time, and it was more than words could describe.

Were they gonna hug? It seemed like the most soulful conclusion. No? Okay, they were doing this.

His phone chirped. “Ah,” he jumped, startled, and tried to pretend that he hadn’t just hit his head really hard on the roof of the car “that must be- I- I have to get inside.” Mari seemed entertained, but nodded slowly, her smirk knowing. Viktor flushed.

“Thanks again, bye Mari!” he trilled, and was inside in the matter of seconds. He could probably hear Mari’s laugh from there.

Pressed on the inside of the door, he gulped. Holy shit, that was intense. Yuuri would better marry him after this, because if it wasn’t commitment...

For the first time since that morning, he looked down at his phone screen. Aside from numerous texts wishing him luck and insulting him, in that order, the most recent was the one that made him bang his head again on the door.

Yuuri <3 (20:12)

I hope Mari didn’t say anything weird.

Oh, boy.

Katsuki Yuuri was a small, adorable force of nature. He got terribly embarrassed over anything mildly inconveniencing, apologized way too much and was a bloodthirsty revision beast.

“Another exercise,” he tapped the page with the back of the pencil, his eyes lifeless and unmerciful.

“Please, stop,” Viktor begged, draping himself over the table in a desperate attempt at eliciting his butcher’s pity. “I’m starting to see double!” he added, in a moan.

Yuuri snorted. “While I know that’s not true,” Viktor deflated “I guess we can take a small break. Viktor, are you crying?!”

“Katsuki Yuuri, you are an angel,” he sniffled into his arms, “so beautiful and kind, the world doesn't deserve you.”

Peeking out from his hiding, he could see Yuuri coloring deliciously, but also rolling his eyes.

“Sure, sure,” he mumbled, “just five minutes.”

Five minutes that became ten, because Viktor had the marvelous idea to flaunt his best card: poodles. Specifically, photos of his poodle, Makkachin. He’d have to thank him properly once he got home.

Yuuri cooed at every single photo, like he had never seen a poodle before. Which was not true, because Viktor knew for a fact Yuuri had a poodle too. Could he get anymore perfect? The immediate answer would've been no, but watch Katsuki Yuuri rise up higher than every expectation as he always did.

In the last week, Viktor felt like they had established a bond deeper than what he had with most of his friends already. He didn't want to rush, because this felt important, and he desperately wanted to get it right, but he wasn't probably coming out of nowhere given the fact that Yuuri was steadily but surely relaxing around him.

Sure, he was still parsimonious with his touches and blushed wildly every time Viktor even tried to say something nice about him, but he knew what progress looked like and this was a hell of a lot like it.

Yuuri was also terribly smart and good at making him pay attention. It didn't count that Viktor thought anything that came out of his mouth was straight up gold, he had this matter of fact method of explaining things that made him understand.

Of course, Viktor was smarter than your average high school student, which made things easier on him, but Yuuri as a professor was now classified as a hot possibility in his mind.

In those days, Viktor had learnt more about Yuuri than all he ever found out by begrudgingly stalking Phichit’s instagram profile, which was not a surprise but sounded still like a lifetime achievement.

For starters, Yuuri was snarky. He wasn't a morning person, which made him grumpy as hell at least until second period. Greeting him at his locker would never stop being funny, because he looked like a squinty zombie, managing still to be self conscious about it.

Yuuri had also a strict policy about personal space: of course, that didn't mean that Viktor wouldn't disregard it completely, but he knew it was there.

He had an eclectic music taste, wouldn't reveal the name of his toy poodle, and got anxious about a lot of things. He didn't like to talk extensively about it, but it was hard to miss.

His friends were marvelous, if they were even a little like he described them, but still a mystery. “Yuuri, are you ashamed of me?” he would lament, his head thrown back in mock anguish. Yuuri would color red and frantically shake his head no, then deflect the question.

His friends, on the other hand, had grown to simply adore him. Even little Yuri, despite his hostile way of showing it. Yuuri wasn't aloof like it was rumoured in the fan club, he was just awkward.

The first time they met, Viktor was talking about trivial things with the others, propped up against the wall in one of their shared free periods. Yuuri looked like he was mentally debating circling the school to enter from the other side, so Viktor put him out of his misery, calling out his name. The way he stiffened was both adorable and preoccupying. He waved weakly, his eyes cast down, and made no move to reach them. But if the mountain won't come to Muhammad…

“Yuuri!” he all but yelled, skipping to reach him. He took his arm, really gently, and moved them towards the circle of his friends. “Yuuri, these are” he pointed at them with his finger “Chris, Georgi, Mila, Otabek and little Yuri” the latter snarled, but Viktor simply smiled “Guys, meet Yuuri!”

He shot a plaintive look to them. Please don't scare him off forever, he prayed in his head. But Chris had other plans. While the others waved or saluted (or grunted, in Yuri’s case), he took Yuuri’s hand with a flourish and planted an enthusiastic kiss over his knuckles. “Finally we meet. Enchanté,” he purred, and Yuuri stuttered, excused himself saying he had class, yes- class, and stumbled away.

“Christophe,” he hissed, but his friend’s eyebrows were raised up high, his mouth curled unapologetically. “What,” he simply said “You're not the only one who needs evaluation.”

Ah.

Me (16:27)

i hope my friends didn’t scare you too much?

i swear chris is a great guy, just a little handsy

Yuuri <333 (16:39)

It’s okay! I was late for class, but I would’ve loved to stay and get to know them.

Wait, what do you mean… Handsy?

After two weeks, Yuuri had taken to come watch him train, often accompanied by friends, a stack of study books in tow. But as much as Viktor wanted to meet them, they were always nowhere in sight as soon as he was out of the showers.

He was planning a big reveal at lunch someday, but it appeared it wasn't necessary. Just getting out of the locker rooms, he was circled by familiar faces, just one starkly missing.

It felt a lot like being ganged up on. But also, the faces were friendly. He didn't have to call for help, now, did he?

Phichit? He thought it was him, laughed and said “guys, guys, drop your ranks, we don't want to smother him and hide his body in the woods” his eyes twinkled “not yet, at least.”

Oo-kay. He clutched his phone.

“Viktor, I was joking,” Phichit said, now looking really sorry. He frowned. “It’s just- Yuuri prohibited us from meeting you, and we couldn't have that.”

Yuuri did that? Why?

“He thought we would scare you,” Nishigori Takeshi said, seemingly reading his mind, with a deep rumble, like it was simply ridiculous. The fact that he was built like a sturdy closet didn't actually help his case.

“Is that right?” Viktor couldn't help but say, dryly, because he had no self preservation whatsoever.

The sweet looking guy and his American friend looked amused. A stony guy just stood in the corner, his eyes narrowed. Guang-hong and Leo? And...Seung-gil, his mind supplied.

“We just wanted to talk!” a ponytailed girl said, with a bubbly smile. Yuuko?

At that, Viktor grinned. “Fair enough. Do you want to know what my intentions are?” better to be clear once and for all.

Phichit looked like there wasn't anything else better in the world than that single moment. “You stole my line!” he argued, but he was smiling “What are your intentions with my son, Katsuki Yuuri?”

Viktor was starting to like him. “I want nothing more than for him to make me an honest man,” he replied, seriously, his grin now mirrored on the tan boy with mad eyeliner skills' face.

Someone gasped. “Well then!” Phichit chirruped, looking around the group “Our work here is done!”

“Nice to meet you!” everyone echoed. And just like that, Viktor was alone.

Well.

That sure was something.

Me (17:32)

phichit looks like an interesting person!! his instagram profile is really cool

Yuuri <3<3<3<3<3 (18:02)

Did you see?!

Please tell me you didn’t.

Me (18:03)

you’ll have to be more specific

ive seen a LOT of things )))

it’s too late to delete them now

Yuuri <3<3<3<3<3 (18:06)

Oh my god.

Viktor was, for no better terms, a flurry of movement. He was enthusiastic as they can be, whiny and melodramatic, not a humble bone in his body, and he was smart, and inappropriate, and Yuuri was falling too fast, too hard.

Not that he hadn't been already halfway there.

But Viktor was human, most of all, in a disarming, imperfect way, and he had no qualms about showing it to him. His sleep schedule was a mess, he used too many hair care products, his calligraphy was chicken scratch (except for his signature, which was incredibly stylish because I’m training for giving autographs, isn't it obvious? ), and he also was the touchiest person he had ever met.

Yuuri, embarrassingly enough, started carrying with him an hair tie to lend to Viktor, because he always forgot where he had put his.

He also started pretending to study at the field when Viktor was training, but was another story altogether. His friends indulged him, so it wasn't too much, right?

Not to mention, Viktor friends were intense. Super nice, but also a little much on Yuuri’s psyche. Georgi had this way of looking at him like he was both terribly jealous but also happy for him. For what, that wasn't for him to know. Chris always approached him with a sly grin and grabby hands, and Mila was genuinely nice but terrifying because she looked like she could bench press him without breaking a sweat. Little Yuri was, apart from entirely adorable, brash and rowdy and kept calling him katsudon and insulting his life choices. Viktor had told him it was his way of showing love.

Their daily calculus sessions were going surprisingly good. He didn't have to try too hard to make Viktor understand him, and that was a relief. Yuuri had, in addition to self worth issues, a certain penchant for winning challenges. And making easily distracted, memory short Viktor Nikiforov learn a so complex subject in such a limited time frame was nothing but a challenge. A terribly exciting one, at that.

The only problem being, Yuuri’s feeling seemed to be growing as steadily as Viktor’s confidence in solving equations. He was screwed.

So screwed.

Viktor (03:07)

do you think mermaids really exist?

and is the moon real or just a ploy

Me (03:15)

Why are you awake

...Did you read this on the internet?

Viktor (03:15)

cant sleep

i didnt know how to start the conversation

Me (03:17)

Well, we’ve explored only 4% of the ocean so it’s a real possibility.

Also, why would it be a ploy? Explain.

Viktor threw a fry at his face. “Yuuri, why aren't you paying attention to me?”

His eyes narrowed. “You threw a fry at my face.”

“Yes?” Viktor tried his best to look blank, but there was a little smile playing at his lips “You weren't paying attention to me,” he explained.

Yuuri snorted. “I don't pay attention to you for one second and you're already throwing objects at me to get it back?”

“It wasn't just one second!” Viktor’s eyes were twinkling, as he draped himself all over Yuuri’s lap and whined “Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri!”

He couldn't help but pat his head. His hair was, as imagined, super soft. “You big baby,” Yuuri cooed, and Viktor released a keening noise, arching into his touch. His heart started beating wildly into his throat as his blunt nails scratched into Viktor’s scalp, moving through the long threads, playing with the ends. This, here, had been a dream of his for most part of the two last years. And here Viktor was, humming and nuzzling into his palm, perfectly content being in Yuuri’s lap in a random Mc Donald’s, head pressed against Yuuri’s chest, nothing short of purring.

Oh, he thought, this is nice.

But because Yuuri’s life sucked without fail, the moment was abruptly broken as a waitress came to dispose of their trays, looking between them with an uninterested blank gaze. Nonetheless, Yuuri’s hand retreated as if it was scorched, and Viktor jumped in the air, his face flushed, eyes big and regretful, like this was something he had never intended to do.

With his own face on fire, Yuuri’s heart paused, jumped one last time, and broke.

Viktor had fucked up. Big time.

All this time, he had tried to tiptoe around Yuuri with his feelings, because Yuuri was small and anxious and reticent where he was bold and brash and intense. He didn't want Yuuri to be scared, he wanted things to evolve naturally, to wait it out until their- love would come in the open by itself. He wanted to cherish the relationship they had built together, wooing Yuuri with long talks and romantic dinners, flowers and teddy bears and everything you saw in the movies.

He would have waited for the summer to take him to the beach at night, they would've gone on a cheesy roadtrip after graduation, and kissed watching a sunrise on the hood of the car, Yuuri looking soft in the rosy glow of the slowly growing sun.

But no, he had to get cuddly as a damn cat in the middle of a Mc Donald’s, making Yuuri pet his hair and climbing into his lap because he had no self control whatsoever. And Yuuri had looked so embarrassed, so uneasy, when Viktor tried to laugh it off that they cut the session short and saluted each other with awkward waves.

No matter how many times Viktor tried to bring it up, Yuuri would avoid the topic and talk only about calculus and stupid integrals, of which Viktor couldn't care less.

And now it was a week left until finals, and Yuuri wouldn't look him in the eyes.

They met daily, still, and Viktor had reached a pretty good enough grasp of the subject he was sure he’d have no problem to pass the class, but Yuuri had rebuilt most of the walls Viktor had painstakingly tore down in the last months. He’d be skittish and quiet, often shooting sad glances at him when he thought he wasn't looking.

Phichit had most definitely started giving him the stink eye during lunch.

He was, by all means, miserable.

He had thought Yuuri wanted to be with him, that their feelings were mutual and he was just waiting for Yuuri to realize and meet him halfway there. It appeared he was mistaken. Yuuri had probably just wanted to be kind to him by helping him out, and now that finals were at the doors he was wondering how to let him down gently. He had a lot of friends who loved him, who he didn't even want him to meet, so what would too touchy, too intense Viktor add that Yuuri didn't already have?

Yuuri had a fan club, and it was nothing like Viktor’s own one, with rabid fans than knew nothing about him but the shape of his abs and fawned over his sweaty jersey. Yuuri’s fan club was people genuinely interested in who he was, seeing him as a person, not a walking mass of muscles and trophies. He was too much for him. Viktor Nikiforov, school jock and star athlete, apparently deserved contracts and had scholarships and sponsors all lined up for him, his future already decided, but he didn't deserve Yuuri Katsuki.

It was okay.

He wanted nothing more than keep pushing anyway. He did. He wanted to shake Yuuri and make him see, say look at what you've done to me, I was everything and now I'm nothing because of you. He wanted him to know how cruel it was to finally make him want something and dangle it just out of reach.

But Yuuri had been nothing but kind and supportive, and while Viktor could be insensitive sometimes, he didn't want to hurt him. If Yuuri wanted to let him go silently, without a proper closure, then he owed him at least that.

Me (11:08)

u still up for today calc revision at the park?

Yuuri (13:22)

Sorry, I think I ate something bad last night.

Me (13:22)

tmrw?

Yuuri (17:05)

Sure.

Yuuri was an idiot.

Of course Viktor didn't want him, he never did and never would. He had just wanted help, and Yuuri, like a proper idiot, gave him that and more, so much more.

He had watched Viktor rise, a bright burning star in the sky, not unlike the sun itself. He just wanted to bask in his light, from afar, but had got too close for comfort.

And now Viktor knew. He had no doubt read it in his eyes, and the startled look he had sent him couldn't have been more clear. What a stupid, stupid boy he was, thinking he could make someone like Viktor love someone like him.

It was okay, though, because after the finals Viktor could stop pretending to find him interesting and turn back to his cool friends, like Christophe, who didn't have anxiety and didn't embarrass themselves daily like Yuuri did.

Yuuri was lucky enough to have had him like this for that long, anyway. Right?

He had heard rumors, of course, that Viktor would get tired of him eventually, that no one could capture the heart of the ice cold football star for long. He knew that already, of course. He had followed Viktor’s stardom carefully, since he had transferred, and Viktor had flitted through boyfriends and girlfriends like a moth drawn to flames that weren't able to burn him hard enough.

If they knew that he hadn't managed even that, how would they laugh.

Yuuri liked to laugh about it sometimes too, although bitterly. To think that Viktor hadn't even wanted him as a temporary boyfriend until finals, that he hadn't even found him enticing enough to give it a try, keeping it friendly at most.

Sure, he was touchy. But that was just his personality. And Viktor had a way of making you feel the most important person in the world, when he looked at you with those blue eyes of his, so cold and yet so warm. He wondered about how many he had enchanted like that, some nights, but it hurt too much so he stopped that train of thought almost immediately.

But he had let himself bathe in the fire of Viktor’s enthusiasm and smiles and amazingly faceted personality, like a fool, too weak to resist the warmth, and had fallen to pieces, a glass filled with a liquid too hot.

What else could he do, then, if not trying to save what was left unscathed by the flames? So he retreated. He was not strong enough to cut it off completely, because Viktor still needed him, even if he knew it would hurt more.

It would be over soon, at least.

He just had to wait two more days, and then it would be done.

He could pretend everything was alright, could make it seem he didn't feel like throwing up everytime he thought about it too much. He could feel his friends’ eyes on him, searching, but they didn't need to know. He shouldn't bother them with his hopeless pining, not now that the finals were so close.

So he excused himself from the table at lunch, because Viktor had waved at him and said “See you after classes, Yuuri!” in the corridor and now he could see him talking with his friends at their usual table. And his throat had closed up and filled with dread, his lungs seemingly collapsing on themselves, and he needed to get out.

He wobbled through the miraculously deserted corridors and reached the bathroom, threw himself against the first stall door and fell to his knees on the cold, dirty tiles. His traitorous body started trembling, and no matter how hard he tried to hold them in, big fat tears welled up in his eyes, falling down his cheeks, his mouth gasping for air in sorrowful sobs.

This was so dumb, he thought, scrubbing uselessly at his face with his hands, what if he wasn't alone in the bathroom? He could have avoided seeing Viktor by telling him he had to study too, which was true, could’ve waited until he was back home to break down into Vicchan’s fur, his toy poodle so shamefully named after Viktor himself, could’ve said no, thank you to his offer to begin with, and avoided all this mess altogether.

I hate this so much, he thought, and someone bashed the door in.

Startled enough to stop crying, Yuuri found himself scrambling up and out of the stall to stand and face the most pissed off Yuri Plisetsky he had ever seen. His scowl carved into his angelic face unmercifully, making him look more of a caricature than anything else.

“What the hell are you doing?” he snarled, kicking the door, now beside him, again.

What was he doing? He sniffled. Wasn't it obvious?

“What does it look like?” he said, because Katsuki Yuuri never lost his pettiness, not even after having been found breaking down in a school bathroom. It wasn’t the first time it happened, either, sadly enough.

Yuri Plisetsky seemed to be fuming from his nose, his eyes turned into slits and mouth a tight line.

“It seems,” he growled “You’re the one crying after messing up someone else!”

“Huh?” That made no sense. In every way, Yuuri was the only messed up one.

“You know what,” Yuri spat out angrily “You don't even deserve this. You don't get to cry over this and most importantly you don't deserve him. ”

He kicked the door once again, and marched out.

Yuuri blinked. What.

Viktor was kicking a pebble.

Finals went pretty good. Calculus was easy enough, considering the giant gaping hole in his heart opened up a little more every time he thought about the subject.

Yuuri was avoiding him. He didn’t reply to texts, seemed to flee the scene everytime he entered in the same room as him, and had stopped all contact since the day he had seen him run out of the cafeteria. Yuri had followed him, wherever he went, but anytime Viktor asked what happened he received nothing but snarls.

Viktor knew Yuuri didn’t want to be with him, but couldn’t he at least congratulate him on a good job? It was his doing if Viktor had passed at all, he could bask in the glory a little.

Couldn’t he at least let Viktor say goodbye?

He kicked harder, and the pebble went flying directly into the small pond the school garden was furnished with; it had ducks and everything, too.

He heard a wry chuckle behind him, and whipped his head around to see a casual looking Phichit Chulanont staring at him, hands stuffed into his jeans’ pockets. “Good luck finding that now,” he said, and scrunched his nose.

Viktor went immediately into defensive mode. “What do you want?” he said, not very gently.

Phichit shoot him a look, at that, and raised his hands in the air. “Just want to talk for a little, if it’s okay?”

A minute nod.

Phichit approached him slowly, getting at his side with an open expression. “I’m gonna be honest with you,” he started, and there was a and don’t try to interrupt me explicitly not said there. Huh, this boy was really something.

“I know you know Yuuri,” Viktor would’ve interceded with a duh, but that was not an option, because Phichit continued, almost hurriedly, “but you don’t really know him.”

This was almost offensive. Of course he knew - “What I mean to say, Viktor, is that there are a lot of ugly parts he carefully avoided to show you.” Okay, this definitely shut him up. He looked at Phichit, tilted his head. I’m listening.

“Yuuri is anxious, I know you know that, but I don’t think you really got the extent of his anxiety,” he looked grave, almost sad, like he was talking about a friend he mourned for “Sometimes his anxiety keeps him up at night, and whispers things to him. It says things like, you’re not good enough, and no one really loves you. It makes compelling arguments, too, and Yuuri can’t help but believe it, if only even a little. Most days, he fights it, stuffs it down his throat and keeps going on, but some days -” he trailed off, his eyes looking unfocused, like he was remembering something, and it wasn’t something good. Viktor’s heart ached.

Phichit took a sharp breath, seemingly back from the memory, and his eyes narrowed. “These are things you’ll have to see for yourself, if he’ll let you,” he said, and he looked larger than life like this, nothing like the manic goof he so often pretended to be like in his instagram photos. “What I mean to say is, right now he’s miserable, and I know it’s not because of you, but it also kind of is.” His smile was tight, but genuine. “I feel like you haven’t been completely open about your feelings for him, have you?”

Viktor, despite everything, flushed at this. He’d never said it out loud, but it was clear enough that he was gone for Yuuri, wasn’t it?

Oh no. It wasn’t.

“Our Yuuri,” Phichit sighed, fondly, “He needs you to spell it out for him,” his smile grew, and he added “that you love him, I mean.”

“I-” Viktor wanted to deny it, but the words died in his throat. Of course he loved Yuuri. What the hell.

He deflated. Yes, he loved Yuuri, but did Yuuri love him back?

“Right now he’s probably in his room, drowning his sorrows in ice cream and cuddling with his poodle, you know him, his poodle Vicchan ?” Phichit threw at him, casually, looking at his nails, “Vicchan, as in Viktor-chan, his three years old poodle that he bought just after transferring here and enrolling into the school?”

A woosh of air escaped from his lips. All this time? How dumb had Viktor been, dammit.

He eyed Phichit, who now was grinning full force. “Sorry for giving you the stink eye in these last days,” he winked, not seeming sorry at all.

Ah. He was giving him the stink eye, after all. But Viktor had something else to do.

“Go get him, tiger,” Phichit chortled, with a little wave. Viktor ran.

The sturdy door of Yuutopia Katsuki seemed to be mocking him.

He had ran all the way here, messing up his hair, and he was sweating, probably looked awful and smelled even worse. And the door wouldn’t open.

He thumped his fist against it for the umpteenth time, receiving no reply. He attached his finger to the doorbell, too, for good measure.

He was starting to lose hope, when the door opened, almost making him fall inside, but a hand kept him up roughly.

Who else could it be, if not Katsuki Mari.

She made sure he could keep himself upright, then blocked the door with both her arms stretched out. Her eyes were cold, and calculating, her mouth a tight line under the ever present cigarette, nothing like the smile he had seen that night a long time ago.

She studied him for a while, one eyebrow arched: flushed, smelly and desperate football star Viktor Nikiforov, who had stomped on his little brother’s heart without even knowing it.

The view was enough to make her take pity on him, because she leaned a little more to the left and asked “What do you want, kiddo?”

Viktor took a deep breath. “I messed up,” he whispered, nothing short of pleading “Please let me fix it.”

Mari inhaled, puffed out a cloud of smoke in his face, and got out of the way. “You’d better,” she said.

Viktor scrambled inside without another word. “First door on the right, second floor!” Mari yelled from behind his shoulders.

He climbed the stairs two at a time, almost fell and broke his neck once, but was finally in front of what he assumed was the right door, which was, of course, totally locked. Muffled sounds came from under it.

He rapped his knuckles on the wood, softly, and called “Yuuri?”

The sounds instantly ceased.

“Yuuri, please,” Viktor begged, not fighting to keep the dread out of his voice “I just- I just want to talk to you. Please?”

After an agonizing minute, the sound of a lock being turned and a gentle “woof!”, the door slid open. A soft brown ball of fluff escaped from under Viktor’s legs, fast as lightning, and oh my god did he also let Yuuri’s dog escape? This was the end.

Yuuri, delicate and small looking, with red puffy eyes and what looked like dirty pajamas on, noted on his horror and mumbled, “Don’t worry, Mari will take care of him” he looked to a point just over his shoulder, trying to look casual and utterly failing. “What did you want to talk about?”

Viktor’s heart lurched. “Oh, Yuuri,” he breathed, and wanted nothing more than hug him and never let go. But that could come later, if everything went as he planned. For now, “Can we talk inside?” he gestured at the door.

Yuuri paled. “Uh, uhm,” he stuttered, shooting a panicked look behind him, probably at the mess of tissues and clothes scattered all over his floor. Viktor knew, because his room looked like that too.

After what seemed like some minutious deliberation, Yuuri’s shoulders dropped, and he retreated inside, motioning for him to follow.

It looked like a war zone. Not a lot unlike Viktor’s but also worse - because Viktor was a little bit of a neat freak and everything had a precise pile (dirty clothes in the right corner, tissues in the left one).

Yuuri’s room, instead, had no such regulations: there were socks on the desk, okay. Seeing Yuuri standing there made a miserable painting, and Viktor was so angry at himself for letting it happen. He approached his hunched figure next to the bed, and attempted to pull the covers up to resemble a clean space. It was such a rude thing to do, especially since it was the first time he had been allowed inside (every other time, they would study at the diner, or at the library, sometimes at the park, but they never touched the no-home rule until now). But Yuuri seemed to need it, because he nodded and sat on the place next to himself that Viktor patted, not too close but not too far either.

He looked like he hadn’t had a good night of sleep since they had stopped talking, and while that could also be because of finals, Viktor wanted to kick himself. Yuuri didn’t speak, just looked at him, scared and dreadful but also resigned.

“Yuuri,” he started, in the silence, and saw him flinch. “Oh, moya zvezdochka,” he tried again, desperately, “will you ever forgive me?”

Confusedly, Yuuri blinked at him. His voice was hoarse when he inquired “For-forgive you?”

Viktor looked resolutely into his eyes, and shook his head wryly “I’ve been so unobservant.”

That seemed to make him just more confused, so Viktor decided to be clear “I should have told you that I loved you long ago,” he explained, simply.

Yuuri’s breath seemed to leave him all in a rush. His pupils dilated, his nostrils flared. “Are you making fun of me?” he demanded, his voice ringing clear and unhappy.

“No!” Viktor was horrified. “No, no! Yuuri, Yuuri, look at me. I love you!”

Yuuri shook his head, his eyes big as dinner plates, and sniffled. “Is this a dream?”

Oh my god. Viktor’s heart would break. He launched himself at Yuuri, taking the small figure into his arms, finally, holding him tight. Yuuri didn’t fight him, just let himself be arranged with his head on Viktor’s chest.

“Yuuri,” Viktor said, “I’m going to pinch your arm now, okay? So you can know this is not a dream and I’m serious. I love you.”

He pinched Yuuri’s arm, hard enough for him to feel the pain but not too much, and Yuuri startled, whipped his head up and looked at him. He had tears in his eyes. “Viktor?”

“Yeah,” he breathed. A smile bloomed on Yuuri’s face, and it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. “Please say you love me back,” Viktor couldn’t help but pray, and Yuuri was nodding, a flush slowly working up his neck and cheeks.

“I love you, too,” he whispered, very quietly, and Viktor kissed him.

The clinking noise of a knife on a  crystal glass cut through the chatter neatly, actively making every other sound die down. Phichit Chulanont, clad in a gold accented, snugly fitting red suit, standing proudly with the offending piece of cutlery, kept going for a moment more just because he could and then cleared his throat.

“Well!” he roared, unnecessarily loud, “Here we go! If you didn’t already know, this is my best man’s speech,” he raised his glass in mocking salute and grinned “and it’s going to be super embarrassing, please take videos and photos and feel free to upload them anywhere!”

“Phichit!” came from the side, by a flushed, smiling Yuuri.

Ignoring the groom’s pleading, Phichit winked. “We’re all here to celebrate the two most cheesy, pda free, cute and desperately in love highschool sweethearts. Did I ever tell you all that it was me that made them sort out their feelings?” a collective groan shook the audience, telling that yes, he did. Extensively. “Well, I was!” was the offended reply. “But,” and at this the grin returned “as I’m sure you’ve heard plenty of how they met and fell in love, do any of you really know both sides of the story?”

He let a theatrical moment of silence settle, then continued, eyes sparkling, “I’ve had to dig quite a lot to acquire this, mind you,” he showed a rumpled piece of paper he had just dug out of his pockets, delicately unfolded it and passed it to the person on his right, appearing to be Chris, who looked at the note for a while, then started laughing.

“Pass it around, if you please,” Phichit instructed, terribly serious.

“This,” he said to the room at large “is a piece of carefully conserved memorabilia, a page directly took from Viktor Nikiforov’s calculus notes.” The cited Viktor, who now looked considerably redder than he was before, let out a pitiful chortle. Yuuri patted him on the arm, looking an adorable mix of amused and abashed.

Phichit was relentless “As you can see, it reads ‘Viktor Katsuki’, followed by ‘Yuuri Nikiforov’, both barred out, and a final ‘Viktor & Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov’, circled by hearts” someone laughed, someone hooted, Yuri Plisetsky grumbled and refused to touch the piece of paper with a ten foot pole.

“Viktor Nikiforov, now certified NFL quarterback and graduated at Harvard Law School, was about to fail calculus because of a boy,” Phichit explained, delighted, and added “although a very pretty boy, which is now the most respectable physics professor at the very same school” Yuuri waved dismissively and hid his face in Viktor’s jacket, and a round of applause started.

The thai waited for silence to fall again, then exclaimed “But on the other side of the coin!”

He took out his phone, and tapped for a little while. “The photo I sent you,” he said, just as everyone’s phones started chirping with notifications “is one I took when I first started being friends with Yuuri. He had just transferred from Japan, and he looked utterly lost. We hit it off almost immediately, but what made Yuuri really find himself again,” he glanced fondly at the couple seated at the center of the room, now hand in hand with matching smiles on their faces “Was the gentle, sparkling jock that helped him carry his books to his locker on the first day of school.” Someone cooed.

“And that was Viktor, in case you were wondering. But please, now, open the photo!” he laughed as gasps started filling the room.

“What, what?” Viktor said, because his phone’s battery had died in the morning. Yuuri, dejectedly, handed him his phone. The photo was that of a locker, messily filled with books and stationery, but the thing that stood out was the inside of it, tapered with a collage of a handsome, silver haired young boy. A collage of Viktor’s photos.

“Yuuri!” the said silver haired now man exclaimed, looking affronted “Did you take them out once we started dating? Why?”

Yuuri hid his face in his hands. “I couldn’t let you see!” he wailed, muffled by his own fingers.

Phichit cleared his throat again. “What I mean to say,” he declared, his face now solemn again, a little soft at the edges with fondness “is that sometimes love is embarrassing, and it seems like an impossible thing to reach,” at that, he smiled “but it will always work out, in the end. Please, let’s have a toast to love. To Viktor and Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov, who showed us that dreams do come true, if you believe in them hard enough!”

Lovely husband (16:10)

Did you pick up the kids from school?

Me (16:35)

you wound me!!!

...

i kinda forgot but a classmate’s mom brought them home??

please yuuri i love you don’t divorce me

(((((((((((((

Lovely husband (17:05)

I love you too, you idiot husband.