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“Mama, flower for you!”
Three-year-old Katsuki Yuuri had tottered over from his family gardens to the porch overlooking it, carefully but firmly cradling the precious flower. With the brightest grin that stretched his chubby cheeks, he shyly presented the brilliantly red rose to his seated mother.
“Yuuri, baby!” Katsuki Hiroko gasped in shock. “Where did you – did you take it from the garden? Yuuri dear, your hands are bleeding! Let mama see.”
“Mama, it’s okay. It’s not painful. Mari-nee helped me!” Yuuri babbled in Japanese. “Mama, do you like the flower? Mama, smile!”
Heart warmed by her youngest’s thoughtfulness, Hiroko chuckled and patted his head fondly after inspecting his scratched-up hands. Tone light, she called for her eldest daughter, who cautiously strode over, a pair of scissors dangling from her hand. She did the same, checking Mari’s hands for wounds and patting her head in gratitude, then gesturing for Mari to take a seat beside her.
“Why flowers, baby boy?” Hiroko asked curiously. She had picked up the young toddler and bounced him on her lap, pressing light kisses to his cheeks and eliciting the purest laughter from her baby boy.
“See mama’s eyes. Mama wants something colourful, to make it prettier. Flowers are colourful and pretty. So Yuuri asked Mari-nee to help find flower in the garden. For Mama!” Yuuri chirped happily, relishing the affectionate strokes on his hair and the warm arm cradling his belly.
“Eyes?” Hiroko frowned. “Yuuri dear, look at mama’s eyes again?”
At her behest, Yuuri obediently looked up and stared at his mother’s eyes, russet orbs wide with curiosity.
Hiroko’s own orbs widened, knowing laughter spilling from her lips at the sight.
Yuuri’s eyes had lightened to a beautiful wine red for an instance, before settling back to his original russet.
At three years old, Yuuri’s gift materialised. A genetic gift from his maternal side that blessed his grandmother and mother, and now blessed him.
At seven, Yuuri realised what his gift could do; for others and for himself. A way out for his shyness.
At fifteen, Yuuri depended on his gift much too heavily to impress upon people. To skirt around his social anxiety. To manoeuvre around the social system set in stone.
At nineteen, Yuuri’s secondary powers manifested after a touch too many sexual encounters terrified him beyond belief.
At twenty, Yuuri vowed not to use his powers anymore.
Desire is a funny, dangerous thing. There is never enough to feed it, for it always changes and grow and adapts to new circumstances.
What started off small and innocent snowballed into something much larger, much scarier.
As a toddler, and then a primary schooler, desires were often innocent. Small. Manageable. A desire to play together. A desire to do things together.
And if he gave in to their desires, helped them achieve their desires, he would gain friends. That was what he thought, and what drove him to curry favour – too quickly, too often. Until his mother realised what he had dug himself into.
When Yuuri entered middle school, he stepped foot into the rigid social hierarchy system that separated the younger students from the upperclassmen. A system that demanded respect and obedience from the younger ones.
No one knew of his gift; his parents had reinforced the mantra into him ever since they found out about his overuse of gift.
It wasn’t by sheer luck and coincidence that, as one of the younger and weaker looking juniors, he did not endure as much vicious bullying as some of his more unfortunate peers. He knew, and his parents knew, what would happen to him if his peers knew of what he could do.
And so, he kept his head low, using his gift to sense the atmosphere. To suss out the intents of his classmates and seniors. To stay out of the limelight, either by quietly leaving the scene or occasionally giving in to their desires.
After high school, Yuuri moved across the Pacific Ocean. To start his new life of autonomy and to pursue his love for figure skating, with the blessing and stern reminders of his parents.
But America was different from Japan.
Yuuri could get away with not making eye contact with his classmates in Japan. It was a socially acceptable behaviour – to show respect to the dominating figure.
But in America, the citizens were louder. More demanding, more intimidating. More insistent on keeping eye contact during conversations, a sign of respect in an utterly different social environment.
Yuuri was startled, to say the least, in his first year of college. He had to make plentiful of prolonged eye contact out in public, then hastily ducking his head down to hide the sudden flash of red if he remembered.
And he remembered – was forced to remember, when he forgot in the initial few days, where a handful too many students and teachers were mesmerised by his alluring red orbs. They laughed it off as a trick of light, Yuuri awkwardly following suit and fervently keeping his eyes downcast.
The issue was severe enough to the point where whispers of the awkward, shy Asian boy circulated around campus, forcing Yuuri to duck his head down even further.
Despite his roommate not having made a fuss, Yuuri requested for a change in dormitory rooms. He had looked into his roommate’s desires a few times when he was uncertain, always seeing the same discomfited atmosphere. Though the discomfort had always overpowered an underlying desire which Yuuri had a hard time perceiving.
Deciding to spare his roommate of the awkward fate, Yuuri elected to shift out first. Though when he softly informed his roommate of his intentions, approved and signed by the lodging office, he accidentally took another glimpse into his desires.
Whereby he calmly, but hastily, bolted out of their shared room to his new lodgings as fast as he could, spurred by rising panic.
His roommate’s desires had been loudly broadcast – a sudden urgency to act on his sexual attraction towards Yuuri. Unnerved, Yuuri had immediately dragged his packed luggage out of the room for fear of his own safety.
Barely a year later, Yuuri found himself with a new roommate. Although he was wary at first, he had warmed up to the bundle of optimism and the three tiny hamsters that barrelled into his room and life.
Due to Phichit boisterous nature, Yuuri had accidentally made a handful of sustained eye contact with him. Sometimes, Yuuri helped Phichit with what he wanted – usually concrete items that had to do with caring for the three squeaking hamsters, or offering emotional support whenever the days got too tough.
But Yuuri started to do it often enough, without prompting and at the right moments, that Phichit grew suspicious. Swearing for secrecy, Yuuri confided in Phichit under duress. And he would be forever grateful that Phichit would not exploit his powers, but rather, would protect him from the “other vultures lusting after him”, in Phichit’s words.
Yuuri was baffled at Phichit’s description, an unbelieving expression on his face. Doing his best friend duty, Phichit proceeded to regale Yuuri with observations, on how the entire student population was in love with the handsome ice skating Asian boy, the majority of them sporting moon eyes and/or lust-filled gazes when Yuuri walked past and greeted them. Those who had the privilege of making a second of eye contact with Yuuri were often seen either fainting, or standing rooted to the spot.
Yuuri had the gall to scoff at Phichit’s stories, and the latter groaned theatrically at his best friend’s obtuseness, vowing to keep Yuuri’s gift and body safe from the lusting students.
Despite having laughed it off, Yuuri found himself believing Phichit after a month of unwarranted eye contact with his school mates. They were all accidental, Yuuri would exclaim to which Phichit would roll his eyes in sarcasm, when he was offered help by his school mates whenever he found himself tripping or dropping his things. Yuuri would thank them for their help while making shy eye contact, and some of them lasted the full five seconds.
And as his powers activated, Yuuri would grasp the faint, but noticeable presence of sexual desire emanating from his school mates. Stuttering another bout of suddenly-nervous thank yous and goodbyes, Yuuri hurriedly fled the scene. Day after day.
As the days went on, the sexual desires intensified. The lust was almost palpable even before Yuuri used his ocular gift. And catcalls grew louder and bolder whenever he had to trudge back to his dorm at night after intensive skating practice.
It escalated so quickly, and so terrifyingly, that Yuuri was sheet-white pale upon reaching the dorm one night. Phichit, who had been relaxing on his bed with his hamsters, shot straight up to comfort him, sending his precious squirrels plopping down on his bed with annoyed chattering.
Yuuri was on his way home that night as usual, and had to endure the long stretch of unwanted whistling along the street. Though that night, something emboldened the group of men, who suddenly stood up and stalked towards him, all the while taunting him with depraved, lust-filled promises.
They had cornered him into a darker alley, filthy smirks on their arrogant faces. Yuuri whimpered, pleading for them to back off in a tinny voice. When they started to encroach in, however, large hands touching his shoulders, his legs, Yuuri exploded in a panic.
“Stop!”
His eyes burned with heat. His assailants froze from the force of his command, compelled by the sudden flare of red orbs.
“Demon!” One of them croaked out in fear.
Yuuri’s adrenaline flared in alarm, and before he knew it, he was sprinting the last few blocks back to the dorm, not daring to give a single look behind his shoulders.
From then on, Phichit always accompanied Yuuri wherever they went to, as much as he could. Celestino was also given a heads-up, when a fear-stricken Yuuri confessed his escalating problem. He had never seen Celestino switch from worry to anger in such a quick succession before, neither had he heard his coach swear that colourfully in rapid Italian before.
But the occasional aggressive predators slipped past his guards before, cornering him in every possible shady path and alleyways.
He saw himself through their fevered gazes. Saw himself quivering in fear, then forcefully stripped naked.
Before they could pounce, Yuuri’s own frightened orbs would flash a menacing red, eliciting shouts of surprise and terror from his assailants. Soft voice, heavily accented in Japanese, trembled as he commanded them to halt their advances.
Until it spiralled to a point where he screamed a terror-stricken order, for them to stop stalking him, to stop their desires to take him for themselves, or to sell to the highest bidder.
For them to forget about his existence.
At twenty, that was when Yuuri swore not to activate and use his powers. Either of them. Both of them.
Yuuri stared at Viktor.
Viktor met his gaze, confusion swimming in those beautifully clear ocean orbs. Smile tilted at an angle at Yuuri’s newest, strangest obsession.
Yuuri stared harder, longer. Brows pinching in frustration, almost turning his initial curious gaze into a deadly glare. Viktor gulped in worry.
“Solnyshko,” the wary Russian approached. “Is everything all right?”
Bewildered, Yuuri asked, “Viktor, what do you want?”
“Me?” Surprised, Viktor pointed to himself. Playing along, he then crooned, “What could I ever want after your spectacular performances, lapochka?”
“I…” Yuuri hesitated, and continued in a small, perplexed voice. “I don’t know. I can’t read it.”
“Read?” Replied Viktor, head cocked in thought, and brightened. “As in, the eyes are the windows to a person’s soul?”
“Yeah, and their desires, apparently.” Yuuri was frustrated. Mystified. Disquieted. This had never happened before.
“As flattered as I am about your undivided attention, darling, is everything all right? I want you to be okay. You’ll tell me if you’re feeling unwell, won’t you?” Viktor fretted.
“Viktor, stop.”
“Stop caring? You know I won’t do that. Can’t, even if I tried,” Viktor quipped back in worry. “Are you sure – Yuuri! Your eyes! You should have said something sooner if your eyes are turning red! Is it painful? Dry? It might be an infection, we need to see a doctor. Where’s the doctor in Beijing? We need a translator – oh, I’ll call Guang Hong. Yuuri, bundle up, we’re going now. Yuuri, what are you doing, still sitting there? This is an emergency – no Yuuri, no. Oh no, are you crying? You are, aren’t you? I’m sorry if I made you cry again, I didn’t mean to! Yuuri please, talk to me. Should I hug you? Kiss you again?”
Viktor was in a worried frenzy, while Yuuri continued to sit on their hotel bed, still and baffled. It was only when Viktor tipped Yuuri’s chin up and peered closely into his eyes, that Yuuri snapped out of his daze and breathed out a reassuring, “I’m okay. Viktor, I’m okay, I promise.”
Doubtful, Viktor gave another appraising look before releasing his hold on the Asian brunette, huffing under his breath.
“Are you sure isn’t an infection?”
“Positive.” A disgruntled noise from Viktor had Yuuri rolling his eyes and giving another compulsion-laced order.
“Stop worrying, you mother hen, and sit down.”
Contrary to his words, Viktor spun away from him and dug into his suitcase, mumbling about whether the first aid kit travel pack contained antibacterial eye drops.
Exasperated, Yuuri tried again to cajole his stubborn coach back, “Viktor, I’m really all right. See, the redness is gone now.”
Viktor whirled and took hold of Yuuri’s face once again, peering at the now suspiciously-russet orbs.
“See, I’m fine. Forget about it, Viktor.” Yuuri plastered on a smile, and Viktor finally left it at that with another dramatic huff, side-eyeing his pupil with a hint of doubt colouring his own cerulean orbs.
“So, you’ve finally found him, Yuuri dear.”
Yuuri had immediately sought out his dear mother upon returning from China, question bubbling to the surface.
“What do you mean, mama?”
“Our gifts create unbalanced relationships between two people. You should have realised that by now, haven’t you?” At that, Yuuri nodded mutely. The beginnings of what his mother was trying to say starting to stir in his mind.
“But the gods aren’t that cruel,” Hiroko continued gently. “You will definitely be able to find someone whom you can be equals with. Someone whose desires mirror yours, that’s why you can’t read them.
“But only if you dare to look, Yuuri dear.”
“Yuuri, are you sure you are okay?”
“Yuuri, give your eyes a break, they’re turning red!”
“Did you get another eye infection, Yuuri? We need to see a doctor!”
“Did you cry, Yuuri? Don’t cry! Talk to me, I’ll always be here for you.”
“Yuuri!”
For the next month or so, Yuuri had to defend Viktor’s endless pursuit of the health of his eyes. He had been careless, much too careless. Always staring at Viktor, peering into his beautiful orbs. Forgetting that his own russet-hued eyes would bleed into a startling red after five seconds. Thereby prompting the endless string of anxious worry from his coach.
Yuuri couldn’t help but smother his giddy laughter, a stark contrast to an irritated and perplexed Viktor, forcibly removing his gaze to let his own orbs turn back to their usual hue.
“Yuuri, stop laughing at me! Good things need to be shared, right? Right?”
He did it.
Perhaps not as smoothly as he imagined, but he did it.
Releasing a breath of relief, Yuuri welcomed his freshly-showered fiancé into his arms. The hotel bed sank underneath the extra weight. Viktor shamelessly nuzzled into Yuuri’s neck, the latter taking the advantage to breathe in the intoxicating mix of expensive shampoo and Viktor’s own fresh winter scent. A fact that Yuuri remained puzzled about, wondering if the characteristics of Russia’s cold winter had bled into their denizens’ genes.
“Viktor, I need to confess to you,” Yuuri began. The pair had traded spaces and scooted backwards, comfortably lounging against the bedframe.
“You’ve always been confessing before me. Is this going to be a competition, solnyshko? Because I’m going to win. I love you, Yuuri.” Viktor’s soft tenor and sincerity sent another wave of giddy joy in Yuuri, cheeks staining in a lovely blush.
“I’m serious, Viktor,” Yuuri scolded, though without heat.
“Me too.” Viktor sent back an impish grin, peppering his fiancé with kisses on his drying locks.
“Viktor,” groaned Yuuri. He twisted his body until he was looking up at Viktor. “Look into my eyes and be serious.”
Humouring him, Viktor swooped down for a quick kiss before reclining backwards to lock eyes with Yuuri. His lips parted as a hiss of surprise escaped.
Yuuri’s gorgeous russet eyes had bled into a divinely sinful wine-red. Smouldering and beckoning him.
“Yuuri, your eyes…” Viktor trailed off in shock, mouth agape.
Yuuri immediately stuttered, “I can explain! There’s nothing wrong with me and I don’t want you to be scared.”
“Darling, if you say so.” Viktor’s expression smoothened, a gentle smile curving his lips. “I’m not scared, just worried. It may still be an infection for all I know, and I feel rather bad for saying this. Your eyes – they are gorgeous,” he murmured, awe and reverence coating his words.
“It’s not an infection, it’s a – wait, did you just say they’re gorgeous?” Yuuri spluttered midway.
“They are gorgeous,” Viktor confirmed resolutely. “Hasn’t anyone told you that? You are gorgeous, and your eyes are stunning. Put them together and you transformed from attractive to downright exquisite. It’s quite a shame for your competitors. They can’t match up to you.”
Shocked yet touched by his fiancé’s words, Yuuri unthinkingly blurted out the first word that popped into his mind.
“Demon.”
“What was that, Yuuri?
Clearing his throat for confidence, Yuuri repeated, eyes now downcast in shame. “Demon. That’s what people said when they saw my eyes.”
Affronted, Viktor growled. “How dare they.”
Hugging Yuuri tightly, Viktor pressed loving kisses to his lips. “Yuuri, look at me. Please, let me see your eyes?” Viktor coaxed his stubborn fiancé with sweet kisses until Yuuri relented, cautiously peering upwards. His eyes turned into a rich red once again upon staring into Viktor’s own clear blue ones.
“You are not a demon. You are Yuuri, with a pair of divine, gorgeous eyes. No one can tell you otherwise. Not strangers, not me, not even you.”
Teary-eyed, Yuuri hiccupped and pressed a full kiss to his wonderful fiancé, holding him close. Sending his gratitude and love and trust to Viktor.
“Mama said that it’s a gift,” Yuuri started, after finally calming down. “We can see what another person is thinking of, but for me, I can specifically see what they want. Their desires. If it’s strong enough, or concrete enough, the images of their desires are visualised in my mind. Otherwise, I can only read the atmosphere, their mood.
“But for it to activate, I need to maintain five seconds of eye contact with the person. When that happens, my eyes will turn red for a brief second before fading back to brown.”
Viktor drew circles onto Yuuri’s bare skin, thumbs having slipped underneath his sleep shirt. Curiously, he asked, “But your eyes didn’t turn back to brown that quickly just now. They definitely remained red for more than a second.”
“That’s because I never looked at anyone for longer than a second after my powers activated,” Yuuri confessed shyly.
Emotions overwhelming him, Viktor breathed out a choked, “Yuuri!” Thumbs ceasing their ministrations, his arms curled around Yuuri’s warm middle in a firm hug, bending down to press a long kiss onto Yuuri’s neck.
“Viktor, stop, that tickles!” Yuuri sputtered and gasped in laughter, when Viktor started to blow raspberry onto his neck. “Stop, stop, please! This power needs to work at times when it should!”
“Power?” Viktor raised an inquisitive brow.
“Yeah, that’s the second gift I have. Compulsion,” explained Yuuri, laughing fit dying down. “It usually only works after the first gift gets activated, and I continue to maintain eye contact with the other party.
“And that’s where the problems lie. I would either be in a subservient relationship with another person, or have him submitting to me at every moment.”
“Is that why you’ve been giving me orders out of the blue the past month?” Yuuri nodded in confirmation. “But nothing happened to me though?”
“That’s because I can’t give you orders. Or rather, you are immune to my orders. And I can’t read your desires either.” The words rushed out of Yuuri, rekindling the conversation he had with his mother not too long ago. “There’s only one person, according to mama, who has this immunity.”
“Yuuri, are you –” Viktor’s voice hushed in realisation, eyes blown wide.
Yuuri stubbornly powered through, not giving him a chance to recover. “Viktor, you’re my soulmate. My other half whom I can be in a proper, equal relationship with. It’s a lot to take in, I know. And having powers is unnatural, I know that too. But if you’d have me, I would be honoured and grateful and –”
Yuuri’s nervous babble was cut short by an ecstatic kiss from Viktor, who immediately deepened it, letting his overwhelming emotions flow into the kiss.
“I would be honoured, Katsuki Yuuri, if you would have me as your soulmate,” Viktor uttered with sincere conviction, eyes sparkling with love. “I want to be yours. That’s what I desire.”
Yuuri’s own burgundy-wine red orbs teared, reflecting his love and desire.
“And I want to be yours, Viktor. That’s what I desire.”
And at twenty-three, Yuuri found his soulmate through his gift.