Chapter Text
Otabek holds the fridge-cold glass of water against his forehead. He blinks away drops of sweat threatening to fall into his eyes and lifts the hem of his t-shirt. He grimaces - a part of him is happy to move away just because the AC sucks. But at least he definitely doesn’t need to go to the gym any day soon.
With a sigh, he sits cross-legged onto the ground and pulls his laptop into his lap, taking off the cord. Sitting in an empty apartment feels like a blessing and a curse at the same time - it would be nice to still own a couch - or you know, a bed - but the empty white walls and voices echoing in the unfurnished apartment make it easier to breathe.
Otabek has mailed most of his clothes, books and other belongings he didn’t want to sell; they should be waiting for him in St. Petersburg right about now.
The only things he still has are mall enough to carry in his motorbike with him. A few necessities, laptop, et cetera.
It feels good. When has he ever done anything so drastic? This feels like opening a new, white, clean page in a book.
Otabek frowns in concentration as he searches now already a familiar website; Lilia Baranovskaya’s Dance Agency. He isn’t that nervous about finding an apartment in St. Petersburg; he’s more nervous about finding a dance studio where to sign up. He has tabs open for at least seven different studios at the moment, and he just can’t decide. Or actually, doesn’t necessarily want to commit to anything yet. But he should at least be sending out some applications. So far, he’s liking this place the most; it represents dancers and promotes them, books them for different jobs. But Otabek’s still not sure.
The website has updated, and the first thing Otabek sees is an embedded video in the front page. It’s an interview made by a local sports magazine. Otabek immediately frowns and goes huh when realisation hits him.
Yuri Plisetsky.
To be fair, he wouldn’t have remembered the boy’s name, but now that he sees the name on the bottom of the screen, it does ring a bell. And as he looks at that pale, round face, that annoyed frown and those green eyes, he finds it ridiculous that he ever forgot the name in the first place.
~
Otabek hates ballet.
That’s for sure.
This is awful. No - beyond awful. Dreadful. He hates this. He -
Otabek stops his train of thought, takes a deep breath. He closes his eyes and tries to shake his parents’ words from his head. They weren’t mean or anything, but the only reason they promised to send Otabek to this camp, was to get him to stop thinking that dancing was something he actually wanted to do. Or maybe they just thought that Otabek was bad and didn’t want to tell him?
Otabek sighs and swipes some sweat from his brow. He is going to prove them wrong.
- He just really doesn’t like doing ballet at all.
Otabek glances around the room. The AC is loud and it does. not. help. Otabek concentrate.
Nor do the ten other boys doing the ballet moves, most of them in perfect sync.
Otabek tries not to pout at the fact that his own body doesn’t seem to cooperate with him.
Mr. Feltsman says that ballet is the basis for every type of dance, and if he can’t get the handle of this, he may just as well forget the whole thing.
“Don’t fall backwards”, a voice says, waking Otabek from his thought. He really shouldn’t be thinking at all right now. Too much thinking ruins the flow of the movement, Otabek knows.
The boy in front of him has turned around enough to look at Otabek. He hasn’t stopped doing his plie, though.
“Huh?” Is what Otabek asks.
“You have to keep your back completely straight, tupid. You always forget that. That’s what Yakov is going to yell to you, fix your posture.”
Otabek flushes and does exactly that, averting his gaze when Mr. Feltsman comes close. He’s been corrected and corrected and corrected today, so Otabek doesn’t dare to breathe.
“There you go, good”, Mr. Feltsman says. Otabek has learned that the less words you got from the man, the better. He was very colourful in his talk when something was wrong, but very simple with his praise. Otabek’s father was the same, so it was fine.
From the corner of his eye, he sees the blond’s mouth twitching up.
And just like that, Otabek gets a new friend. His Russian is not yet very good and that angers the boy, Yuri, but Otabek just replies in Kazakh to make a point, because at least Otabek knows how to talk in his mother tongue, unlike Yuri.
Yuri, opposite to Otabek, knows ballet very well. He swears it’s his first time trying it, but Otabek is not buying the story. It isn’t fair that someone so young (two years younger than Otabek!) would be so in control of their limbs as Yuri is.
Yuri is not shy at all - something Otabek is not used to. He sometimes says something that sounds mean if Otabek stops to think about it, but it’s all right. Yuri doesn’t mean any of that stuff. He’s just observant and sometimes says things aloud without thinking of a nicer way to put things. It’s actually a bit funny.
The summer camp itself turns out to be more fun than Otabek thought. He expected to become a better dancer, not to make a friend, so he’s pleasantly surprised.
Yuri helps Otabek with ballet. Otabek should probably feel a little bit funny that someone younger than him is giving him tips, but he doesn't. Yuri is both more mature than his age - smart, opinionated and good at dancing. He's also loud and loses his temper easily, but that's fine, too. He’s said he’s going to be a professional dancer some day, and Otabek believes him.
Otabek helps Yuri, too. He's too reckless for his own good and has already had a splinter in his thumb and scrapes on his ankle. He got a burn from the hardwood floor from sliding his knees along it when he tried to demonstrate something to Otabek. Otabek knows how to treat burns, so he helps Yuri to clean it and put some cream on it. He also took the splinter from Yuri’s thumb off and didn’t even make Yuri cry , so he's very proud of his first-aid skills.
All things come to an end, though, and so does the camp. When they have some free time, Otabek ventures into the shops nearby. He wants to tell Yuri how fun his company has been, but he wants to do it well , and he remembers that his mother once told him that it’s polite to give something to people he thinks are nice. Otabek also remembers that she clarified that a hug or a card he’d made himself is a good way to do it, but since Otabek doesn’t want to hug just anyone and sucks at crafts, this is what he comes up with.
He buys a necklace. He thinks it’s nice. It’s heart-shaped and it has a picture of a kitten inside the heart. Otabek knows Yuri likes cats because he told Otabek he’s going to get one when he’s older. Otabek hopes he does, and maybe then Otabek could visit Yuri and his cat. (Otabek can’t get a cat or a dog because his mother is allergic.)
“To protect you”, Otabek clarifies when he gives Yuri the locket. “You scrape yourself up too often.”
Yuri smiles and says that no-one has ever given him such a nice gift before. He demands Otabek help him put it on him and declares that when he gets a cat, he wants it to look like the one inside the locket, so Otabek guesses that he likes it.
~
Otabek blinks. He remembers that he returned to Kazakhstan and Yuri stayed in Russia. They never talked after that. It’s hard to stay in touch when you’re both kids, Otabek supposes. He remembers that he was so happy to show his parents what he learned at that camp and how hard he tried to make them sign him up for dance lessons. Contacting Yuri just slipped his mind.
He stares at the screen, the interview paused to Yuri Plisetsky’s face, and feels a bit like he’s thrown back ten years in life. Wow. He hasn’t even thought about the boy since that summer.
But it looks like he’s doing well. The interviewer talked about Yuri’s success in ballet and modern dance, seemingly very impressed about Yuri’s success and the fact that his calendar is booked with different job gigs for months.
The boy wasn’t kidding. He got what he wanted, because now he was professional dancer - and a good one too, by the looks of things.
On the screen, Yuri Plisetsky brushes a few hairs from his forehead and gives a tight but genuine smile to the interviewer when she makes a comment about his performance in some local opera.
“Okay; one last question; I’ve seen a few of your fans have been asking around the internet. You’re always keeping a necklace around your neck. What is that?”
Yuri looks taken aback before his posture changes to something more relaxed. Maybe he expected a more personal question. He takes the necklace from under his shirt and lifts it a little, looking at it himself.
“It’s a cat. I - well - I’m not superstitious, but I’ve had it since I was a kid and I’ve taken it with me to every competition and dance assignment and things have gone well this far, so why risk my good luck?” He gives a small smile, cheeks blushing a little bit. His fingers touch the locket around his neck.
Huh, Otabek thinks. Huh.
This is a sign. This has to be a sign, right? That summer camp ten years ago was what basically started his career. He remembers how Plisetsky’s determination and skills haunted him for months after the camp, but in a very positive way. He had clear goals for his life despite being so young, and it was inspirational, somehow.
Otabek sends in his application to the Dance Agency with as much reference videos he has of himself.
**
Yuri is in a grouchy mood. He doesn’t know why; that’s just what Mondays feel like to him.
He scrunches up his nose as he sees Viktor and Yuuri walking before him in the hallway. Viktor has his palm resting on Yuuri’s ass. Yuri swears the man fried his last remaining brain cells when he saw Yuuri Katsuki (Yuuri “Eros” Katsuki) perform for the first time. He’s obsessed with Yuuri and his behind - it isn’t even healthy anymore. Their whole history together is ridiculous. Viktor dumped his entire life in the trash when he got a surprise boner for Katsuki and then left for Japan to find the man . He started coaching and choreographing Yuuri’s programs on the spot. Yuri hates to admit it, but Viktor’s programs now, with Yuuri as his muse are the best they’ve ever been.
It’s disgusting, though. They’re so gross together. And not in the cute way, but in a gross gross way. They made the whole internet explode with their first performance together. It was - nicely put - dry-humping on stage. Except that at the same time they looked at each other like they were in the altar, ready to say I do. Ugh.
Yuri couldn’t hate the idiots even if he wanted to. He makes an ugly face, though, when Viktor squeezes Yuuri’s ass, making Yuuri giggle and bump his hip against Viktor’s.
“Hello, the only two people in the world”, Yuri says, loudly enough to end the public groping before it’s going to escalate.
The older men turn around, both wearing the same goofy smile on their faces.
“Oh, good morning, Yurio”, Viktor greets and Yuri doesn’t even try to correct that it’s not his name. It’s hopeless. “We’re just heading to the ballet studio. We’re working on our flexibility together”, he states cheerily.
“Cool. Don’t do anything gross or Lilia’s gonna kick you both out”, Yuri says.
“Yuri! We wouldn’t do that!” Yuuri insists, but he blushes enough to blow their bluff.
“Yeah, whatever. Just lock the door, alright?” Yuri sighs.
“Will do”, Yuuri promises and Viktor coos at his blushing before turning to Yuri.
“So, how’s your new choreography coming together? Lilia’s event is in a month, isn’t it?” He asks.
Yuri shrugs. “I can’t remember the date. It’s going okay.” He’s not very enthusiastic about the subject. He doesn’t like his current choreography, but he’s already started several arguments with both Yakov and Lilia to change it, but they didn’t budge. They both said that every choreography made for him is a very thought-out process that focuses on his strengths and highlights his talents.
It’s all true, but that doesn’t mean that Yuri isn’t bored to death dancing to these slow, melancholic songs that are supposed to be dramatic. Even Viktor couldn’t help him with that. He does all these crazy, not safe for work choreographies for his husband but refuses to help Yuri, even though Yuri is now officially an adult.
Viktor is about to say something else, but Yuri just heads toward the staircase, sprinting up and lifting his knees as high as he can to stretch himself.
The room he does his private practise in is in the fifth floor, so by the time he gets up, he’s already panting a little, heart-rate rising and temperature rising. He gets suspicious the second he sees the door to his room slightly open. On Mondays and Thursdays he practises without coaching or classes, so it’s not possible that Lilia or Yakov are there.
He peeks into the room, only to find a boy there. He’s crouched in the corner that holds a small stereo equipment, back to Yuri. He doesn’t look familiar, but Yuri’s not spooked by it. Only a little irritated. It’s not the first time he found out he was assigned a partner to a performance together by having them wait for Yuri in the room with no heads-up whatsoever.
Yuri’s irritated and suspicious because the boy looks exactly what his previous partners looked like. A little bit taller, stockier and dark. He always gets partners like that because so many clients want them to accentuate Yuri’s fair, blond, ethereal looks, and Yuri hates the whole concept.
“Who are you?”
The boy turns around, the movement revealing that his hair is shorter on the sides than it’s at the top of his head, black hair swishing and covering his eyes. With hasty fingers, the boy pushes his hair from his face and ties it in a small bun on top of his head.
“Hello”, he says with a small wave. “Your stereo didn’t work, so I thought…” He trails off and gestures towards the out-of-date stereo in the corner.
Yuri shrugs. “I don’t use it, but thanks.”
“I’m Otabek”, the boy offers, and Yuri nods.
“Yuri”, he says. “What are you doing here?”
The boy - Otabek - looks a bit taken aback, but, well, what’s Yuri supposed to ask him other than that?
“Are you my new partner?” Yuri clarifies when Otabek doesn’t immediately answer.
“Me? No. I just got here from, um, Kazakhstan”, Otabek explains.
At that, Yuri realises that Otabek’s accent does sound a little funny. His pronunciation is off, but not it a way that means he isn’t fluent in Russian. It’s just a little richer, the stress of his words in the wrong place. It’s not wholly unpleasant. Actually, Yuri could potentially see the appeal in accents, now. Viktor always babbles on about how sexy Yuuri is when he’s speaking Russian, and Yuri always shrugs him off because 1) he doesn’t want to know what Viktor thinks is sexy, 2) Russian isn’t a pretty language in his mind. But it does sound a little enchanting when Otabek is speaking it.
“Kazakhstan?” Yuri asks.
“Yeah.”
Yuri’s never been good at small talk, but this is just plain bullshit. Otabek is even more quiet and less small-talky than Yuri, so that means a lot of quiet and awkwardness, apparently.
“You’re in my room”, Yuri says instead, not finding anything else to say. After all, he was supposed to rehearse.
“Oh?” The boy raised his brows, not seeming embarrassed. “Mrs. Baranovskaya told me that most of the rooms in floor five are usually free, so I just picked one. Looks like I picked well.”
“Um?”
“Well, you’re the first person I’ve seen in this building besides her and - well”, Otabek says and shrugs his shoulder like it’s enough of an explanation.
“Alright-y”, Yuri replies and manages not to roll his eyes at himself, but barely. Since when does he say alright-y ? He clears his throat. “So, are you going to stay here?”
Otabek smiles and Yuri has a hard time pinpointing what kind of a smile it is. “I’ve finished.”
“At 8 am?” Yuri has to raise his brows. He thought he was diligent when he dragged his ass here before 9 am most days.
“I arrived pretty early, so. Plus, I can’t check in to my hotel yet, so I decided to come here first, get familiar.”
Now that he looks closer, Yuri sees that, underneath the hoodie Otabek is wearing, there’s a darker patch of sweat on his t-shirt, around his pecs and chest. He doesn’t look out of breath or anything - his cheeks aren’t even red. Yuri envies that, because he’s usually as red as a tomato after work-out. It’s got nothing to do with his stamina, it just happens.
“There are showers on the 2nd floor, if you want to go” , Yuri says helpfully, trying hard not to think why thinking about showers and this weird, dark stranger are making his stomach flutter with butterflies.
“Thank you”, Otabek says and tilts his head.
Yuri, usually thanking the Lord if someone doesn’t try to make small talk with him, feels uncomfortable and puts his gym bag on the floor.
Otabek looks at him with a weird look Yuri can’t quite decipher. It’s amused and a bit too warm for someone who’s only just met Yuri.
Otabek clears his throat and tilts his head to the side, managing to look like a puppy, somehow.
“So, are you gonna be friends with me or not?”