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Sometimes Victor amazed even himself with his ability to wing the hell out of anything and everything. He gives off an air of ditzy forgetfulness, he knows, but in reality he is something of an expert at micromanaging and pulling off even the most ridiculous stunts with a dash of hope and a hell of a lot of flair. Or at least that's what he hopes; Christophe might disagree, but Christophe is generally disagreeable, and especially disagreeable to phone calls at One AM about people not adhering to the RSVP schedule.
So when the day of the new collection arrives, Victor is absolutely Not Phased. He sails through the day answering questions from the caterers and the lighting guys with ease and smiles. Setting up the gallery for a breakthrough artist with barely ten days notice has been a monumental task, but the kid had seemed sweet and happy, and Celestino had vouched for him so Victor had agreed easily. It would be nice to do something for an up and comer like Chulanont, and he'd always admired the work Celestino put in, so why not?
The canapés were being plated, the red wines were breathing. Chulanont had taken his leave an hour ago to change into something a little more professional than jeans and t-shirt, and Victor was perusing the guest list idly and fiddling with a cufflink. Doors would be opening in fifteen minutes. He took a deep breath, pulling up his most practiced smile and greeting the irritatingly early guests with banal statements and flashing teeth.
It goes well, the artist- Chulanont- is running a little late on his return with traffic as his excuse, so Victor hosts and shows the gallery with a smile stretching his face and Celestino talking up the art on the other side of the room. When Chulanont arrives, it's in a flurry of apologies that Victor brushes off and a couple of friends trailing after him looking out of place and uncomfortable in their suits. Victor greets them amicably as possible, and steers them all into the exhibition relaxing incrementally now the guest of honour is here, even if one of his guests is staring at him wide-eyed and blushing a little. There’s something a little… familiar about him, as though he’s a friend lost to the years and returned, it makes him pause for a moment- something about the shape of his deep brown eyes, or the dark hair that's been hastily pushed back from his face, maybe the pout of his lips as he frowns at Victor? He has the sudden want to find out, but Victor doesn’t have time for solving puzzles when there are people waiting.
Victor puts the guy to the back of his mind, there are more guests flowing through the doors and the catering manager is waving him over with a panicked look, and they have introductions to make. He leaves Chulanonts friends with Christophe, who's chatting to a middle aged woman in a necklace that probably costs as much as the entire collection and all of Victor's bespoke suits, she's giggling and placing perfumed fingers on his forearm. Chris smiles warmly and introduces the group while Victor leads Phichit to the centre of the cavernous room and swiping a glass from a passing tray and tapping against the rim with loudly. The crowd quiets and he can see indulgent smiles for miles around as he clears his throat.
“Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen, first of all I’d like to extend you all a very warm welcome to the exhibition, and thank you all for attending.” A smattering of polite applause punctuates the statement and Victor gives the crowd a winning smile before he continues, “This collection is a little different than our usual fare here at Stammi, rather than an overarching theme for the exhibition, we have works by a singular artist who has been making waves on social media- Phichit Chulanont.” There’s another round of applause, this one more energetic when Phichit waves beside him with a bright smile, “Before I pass you over to the guest of honour, I’d like to remind you all that every piece you see is for sale under negotiation with Mr. Chulanont, and that the collection is available for private viewing daily for the next four days, which can be arranged by myself, or my partner Christophe. Now that all of the boring bits are out of the way please give a warm welcome to Phichit Chulanont.”
The guests applaud far more exuberantly for Phichit than they had Victor, he sees a nervous smile disappear into an eyeroll when someone wolf-whistles and watches the tension drain from Chulanonts shoulders as he quiets the crowd with a hand. “Uh- Thanks for the welcome, everyone. This is… amazing.” He makes an expansive gesture to the room, smiling brightly. Victor can see Phichit taking the moment to steel himself a little before he continues, “The pieces in this collection don’t follow a single theme, they’re more of a mish-mash of my life over the last eighteen months. Going from an unknown student under the expert eyes of Celestino Cialdi, to an internet sensation has been a humbling experience for me, and would not have been possible without the love and support of my friends and colleagues. When you look at these pieces, I want you to see them as individual windows into the lives of those whom I love, and who have loved me. Treat them as kindly as I have been treated, look on them as fondly as I would, and if you’re confused by the charcoals then seek out Mr. Katsuki who is entirely to blame for them all.” He gives a little chuckle and winks at someone buried in the crowd, “So enjoy the art, and the wine which Mr. Nikiforov has so kindly provided, and thank you all so much for joining us.”
The guest give an appreciative chuckle at Chulanonts cheeky grin and disperse into their groups, chatting happily. Phichit shakes his hand and thanks him far more profusely than in his speech, before Victor leaves him and goes to deal with whatever terrible thing is happening in the kitchens that has the catering manager looking like the world is ending.
An hour and several minor wine related issues later, Victor was finally free to mingle, leaving the selling to Chris and his never ending ability to charm the hell out of old monied widows. The guests are vying for position around Chulanont, who’s taking it all in his stride with happy smiles and bright eyes, Celestino is deep in conversation with one of Chulanonts guests, and Chris is effervescent in a knot of middle aged women with perfectly manicured nails.
Victor catches sight of Phichits second guest over by the collection of frankly bizarre charcoal sketches, he’s laughing at something one of the men around him is saying, blushing and wrinkling his nose as he explains something about the pieces. Their gazes connect and Victor is stuck once again by that weird feeling of familiarity, that he knows this guy, but can’t place him at all. As he’s scrambling to try and remember, the guy disengages from his conversation and heads straight towards him, brown eyes bright as he makes his way through the crowd.
He’s not panicking, he’s just mildly upset he knows this unknown person but seems to have forgotten? How could he have forgotten? What is it about him that’s making his chest feel like it’s caving in? Victor’s pulse is jackrabbiting under his skin, his palms are sweating against the glass of Pinot Noir in his hand as the guy makes his way over to him. He tries for a steadying breath, but it comes out stuttered under the noise of the crowd, and then the guy is there, right in front of him.
“Hi.” The guy gives him a small smile, eyes crinkling at the corners as he looks up at him.
“Um, hello.” It almost sounds like a question, Victor want to kick himself for it, but the guy is still smiling as he sips a glass of Chardonnay. “You’re here with Chulanont? Phichit?” He corrects himself, hoping he's not coming off as arrogant, but the guys nods.
“Yeah, yes.” He manages after swallowing his wine, “He's my roommate. This is a really good turn out, I can't believe you pulled this together in less than two weeks…” He looks inquiringly at Victor, an eyebrow arching.
“Victor. Nikiforov. And you're…?”
“Yuuri Katsuki.” Yuuri is squinting at him, searching his face for… something. “You look awfully familiar, Mr. Nikiforov.”
“Weird. I was thinking the same of you.” He indulges in scanning over Yuuri's features, the same way Yuuri is taking him in. It's a truly bizarre moment of uninterrupted scrutiny that pulls a laugh from him after a minute, Yuuri chuckling and looking away nervously. “No but- bad pickup lines aside, I could swear I've met you before. You haven't ever hung around in St. Petersburg have you?”
Yuuri laughs at that, eyes crinkling. “I haven't, I'm afraid. And I suppose you've never been to Hausetsu…”
“Definitely not, afraid I'd never heard of it until three seconds ago.” Victor is grinning at Yuuri as he rolls his eyes, “Okay so, clearly that's not it. Where do you live, maybe you're one of those weird neighbours that only comes out at night like a vampire.”
“Why am I the weird vampire neighbour, you could be the weird vampire neighbour for all I know, you definitely look more vampire than me with all of- that- going on.” Yuuri punctuates the statement by gesturing to Victor's face.
“I'm not even sure what that means.” Victor is laughing easily now, Yuuri has moved closer, their elbows brushing but he pulls away and faces him.
“Well you have the look of a brooding anti-hero, have you ever found yourself aesthetically using candlelight to your advantage, or lurking in shadows?” Yuuri looks deadly serious, absolutely intent, and Victor falters for a second at the turn in conversation before there's a tick at the corner of his lips and Yuuri is chuckling again. “Okay, maybe not. I live near the college, by the way.”
“Nope, I'm dockside.” Yuuri hugs something that might have been ‘show off’ before Victor shrugs, “Maybe it's a past life thing, we were mortal enemies-”
“Who fought to the last-” Yuuri grins at him, finishing his glass of wine.
“Destined to be drawn back together to end the enmity of our former lives?” Victor follows Yuuri as he makes his way to the refreshment table, grabbing them each a fresh glass and taking Victor's empty, when had that happened? Yuuri turns to him with a raised eyebrow.
“Knew you were the brooding type. I suppose we’d be the enemies-to-lovers then?” If the implications of that statement weren't abundantly clear, the once over he gets punctuates it absolutely. Victor can feel the blush as it spreads across his cheekbones warmly, it's not unusual for him to get hit on, but the brazen approach and that weird feeling like he knows Yuuri has anticipation curling in his chest. Instead of tamping the feeling down, as he usually would when someone comes onto him in his workplace, he leans into it and let's it guide him as he responds.
“Maybe, although I’m not fond of the enemies-to-lovers trope, I think I’d prefer to go with star-crossed lovers.” Might have been a little heavy-handed, but Yuuri doesn't seem to be pulling any metaphorical punches, so why should he? He watches as the words sink in and Yuuri's eyes widen a fraction, before he schools his expression and takes another sip of wine.
“A brooding romantic.” There’s a quirk of a smile behind his glass.
“I’m still not agreeing that I brood at all.” They’re grinning at each other stupidly now, a tiny thrill of recognition plays up Victor’s back and has him having to pull himself back in. “So you’re a student?”
“When did I ever say that? Are you making assumptions Mr. Nikiforov?” Yuuri doesn’t give him a chance to apologise for his faux pas before he continues. “I’m actually a TA in the art department, I pitch in a lot with Celestino-”
“Yuuri!” Chulanont pushes through the crowd around them excitedly, grabbing his friends elbow and launching into conversation, he doesn’t give Victor a chance to even say goodbye as he steers Yuuri away. Yuuri however sends him an apologetic look over his shoulder.
That was… unusual. He knows he knows Yuuri, he’s too familiar to for it to be a coincidence, but where or when the hell had he ever met him? It’s a niggling thought as he throws himself into the exhibition, greeting the last few stragglers who arrive well beyond fashionably late. It’s an itch he wants to scratch as he watches Yuuri from across the gallery, laughing at something Celestino says. It’s a puzzle he wants to solve as his eyes track Yuuri’s progress through the room.
An hour later, he hasn’t made any headway against the niggling thought that he’s met this mystery man before, but he has managed to secure a private viewing of Chulanonts work for a couple who’re very sweet and want the chance to really enjoy the exhibition. The couple take their leave, and Victor finds himself confronted with Yuuri sliding back into his personal space.
“Where were we?” Yuuri asks lightly, “Before we were so rudely interrupted, that is.”
It takes Victor a moment to remember, and another moment to pull himself into the conversation. “I think you were discussing you not being a student.”
“Hmm, no. I’m definately not a student.” Yuuri is watching him from the corner of his eye, under the guise of regarding one of Chulanont’s works. “Although I do work for the College in the Art department.”
“So, an art intellectual then?”
“Much like yourself I’d guess, judging by your choice of business.”
“I like to think of myself as a connoisseur .” Or at least he wishes, the gallery is doing well and pulling in some named talent now, but it could be The Place to show art in Detroit in a few years. Chulanont’s exhibition is going to help with that, he’s a local name, but huge on social media and gathering an international following, if they get enough coverage with this exhibit it could make something of a splash in the fickle corners of the art world. Yuuri is frowning at him as though something is bugging him, a tiny crinkle in his brow that is simultaneously adorable and making Victor wish he could smooth it back along with the few stray hairs that have fallen into his face.
“Well Mr. Connoisseur, care to tell me about this particular piece?”
The piece is beautiful, it’s a beach at night, the water reflecting the moon's light shakily and seafoam painted in shades of navy and grey. A stark silhouette lit only by the bright sparklers in his hands is in the foreground trailing sparks and light in his wake, the features are obscured but the way the light is playing on his skin is a masterclass in shading and highlighting that draws the eye.
It’s the kind of piece Victor loves, the kind where you can almost smell the sea air and feel the chill coming from the coast. The kind where you feel you could almost step through the frame and live in that moment. Yuuri is silent at that, considering the image before them warmly with a fond smile, Victor doesn’t hold back his own tiny twist of lips. “It really is a beautiful moment, preserved with love and affection and it shows.”
“Um, yeah.” There’s a blush on Yuuri’s cheeks again. He’s switched his regard from the painting to Victor, wide-eyed. “That’s actually it, really.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. We were a bit exuberant last Fourth of July, Guang Hong got a hold of some sparklers and that happened.” Yuuri’s blush hasn’t died down yet, he turns back to the piece in front of them. A laugh bubbles up, “I mean obviously you don’t see the hangover that followed, but Phichit has always been a generous artist.”
“Bad one?” He’s dying to ask just how close Yuuri and Phichit are, but the presumption is too much.
“The worst. I think that’s why he did this-” He gestures at the painting with a grin. “He said something about only showing your best friend in their best light, not the worst. Although the Charcoals would qualify as revenge for the hangover I guess.” He looks faintly embarrased, and Victor’s certain that he’s expecting to be asked but his brain is still turning over the words ‘Best Friend’ on a loop that has him dizzy.
Victor is about to do something silly, maybe infer that even if they aren't star-crossed lovers he feels like their meeting is destined, or just lean in a little closer to see if he can catch a hint of Yuuri's cologne - but he's saved by an arm sliding around his waist and Chris’ face leaning in beside his over his shoulder. “Victor darling, I need you desperately .”
“Chris, you're always desperate sweetheart-” The words are out of his mouth before he realises the implication, the suggestive tone, the flirty ease with which he fires them at his business partner. He sees the second Yuri registers them, something in his warm gaze shuttering and he offers a perfunctory smile.
“I think I've taken up enough of your time, Mr. Nikiforov.” The smile that had been so warm a few moments ago doesn’t reach his eyes, and Victor is cursing himself internally as Yuuri heads out into the crowd.
“Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think you may have just fucked up a bit.” Chris frowns at Yuuri’s retreating back as he heads over to Celestino, bright smile plastered over his features the second he catches the man's eye. “Or maybe it was me? Either way I feel like something got a bit messed up.”
“A bit, yes.” Victor pulls from Chris’ embrace and feels his face twisting into a grimace. He steadies himself with a breath before giving Chris a small smile, hoping it looks something close to normal. “You needed me for something?”
Chris gives him an assessing look, clearly wanting to know what the hell he'd walked in to but knowing better than to push. Victor's ever grateful to his best friend for knowing his limits, when he launches into a run down of the interest so far and who he thinks is going to bid. Victor isn't surprised to find Chulanonts work is generating a lot of potential buyers and follows Chris’ run down as he pulls out his ipad and swipes through the gallery to the bids.
“So I think we've got at least seven pieces with sure bids, it's really up to Chulanont where they go though.” Chris is professional to a fault when they’re talking business, it’s only every other time that he acts like a professional flirt. “Every single one of the Charcoals has been bid on, apparently your new friend is incredibly good at talking up Chulanonts art.”
“Yuuri?”
“Your Yuuri, yes.” Chris throws him a wink, “Although you might have some apologising to do, I think- or at least explaining why we sound like a married couple if you want to actually get him.”
“I prefer to think of us as a mutually beneficial flirtfest, thanks very much.” Chris rolls his eyes at that.
“Well however you explain it, he seemed very interested before I accosted you, so go get him Tiger” Chris shoo’s him but Victor can’t help but hang back for another minute, question on the tip of his tongue.
“Does he… seem familiar to you? Like you’ve seen him somewhere before?”
“No?” Chris perks up at the thought, scanning the crowd around Celestino and looking for Yuuri no doubt. “Why, do you think you’ve met him before?”
“I think so?” Victor watches Yuuri laughing as Phichit pulls him into a conversation as he passes, large gestures and smiles visible from across the room. The more he watches, the more it bothers him. Yuuri is setting alarm bells ringing in his head and he wants to know why.
“All the more reason to straighten things out, figuratively speaking.” And with that dreadful witticism, Christophe sways back into the crowd with a jaunty wave.
Victor considers heading straight over to Yuuri and explaining himself, but he gets side-tracked by a guest who’s enquiring about the rather beautiful watercolour he’s been hovering near. Victor gets pulled into a conversation about brush techniques that he’s thoroughly enjoying, he draws a small crowd as he and the woman discuss the colour usage and debate the depth of field. He fields a few more questions, watching the group thin and some of the guests making a beeline to Christophe and him pulling out his iPad.
He catches sight of Yuuri, smiling and talking to a pair of guests quietly. He’s still wracking his brain trying to work out where he’s seen the man before, or even if he’s seen him before when a guest pats him lightly on the bicep to get his attention. He puts it to the back of his mind, he has work to do and mysterious or not, he can’t neglect his business to moon over a pretty boy, he’s a professional .
He works his way through the crowd, greeting people and answering questions whenever a guest pulls him into conversation. He’s not particularly fond of this part of his job, the interaction which comes so easily to Chris is something that sets his teeth on edge even as he smiles and flatters his way through it. Chris is fond of telling him he’s a natural at it even if he doesn’t enjoy the insincerity of it all, and he should be thankful for his talent. Victor smiles through that too, keeping the fact that he doesn’t want to be good at this to himself. He has a job to do, and he does it well despite the niggling discomfort it causes him.
If he’s honest, it’s the only part of the job he actually dislikes; he’s spent four and a half years in building this business with Christophe at his side. He’s spent long nights on calls to art museums and designers, trawled the internet incessantly, has lost sleep worrying over the next collection and trying to root out the most intriguing and interesting new artists. He loves the chase, loves the discovery, and loves the art most of all, and if that means being disingenuous once in awhile he can grin and bear it.
He gets so engrossed in grinning and bearing it, that he almost forgets about Yuuri. He’s allowing himself to be led through his gallery by guests and smiles, only remembering Yuuri when he stops off at the refreshment table between conversations and scans the crowd for a moment. Yuuri is only noticeable in his complete absence, and Victor’s stomach flips at the though he’s already lost the chance to explain himself. He’s searching faces in the crowd and definitely not panicking when he catches sight of a dark head of hair in conversation with Christophe, to which his not panicking turns over into moderately worrying, and gears into perturbation when they both laugh loudly.
He’s not really aware of moving to intercept the conversation, but he finds himself sliding into a spot beside Chris and offering Yuuri one of the glasses of wine he’s surprised to find in his grasp. Chris, his best friend and least favorite person ever today claps a hand on his shoulder and crows, “Speak of the devil! Vitya I’m so glad you could join us, I was just telling Yuuri here how you’re definitely definitely single and-” He’s cut off by Yuuri choking on a mouthful of shiraz, blushing heavily.
“That’s not- I wasn’t-”
“Well okay, no he wasn’t- but Victor here is very single.”
“Christophe, don’t you have somewhere else to be? Other innocent bystanders to harass?” Victor will find him somewhere to be if he doesn’t disappear. Yuuri is still blushing and Victor can feel his own cheeks heating.
“Not particularly, but it seems I’m outstaying my welcome here. I wouldn’t want to get in the way of anything-”
“Yes, thank you.” He doesn’t bother to hide the elbow he digs into Chris’ ribs. Yuuri giggles at that and gives Chris a jaunty wave as he head off into the crowd with a whine. “I’m so sorry, Christophe can be a bit-”
“Presumptuous?”
“I was going to go with hideous, but presumptuous works.” Victor watches as Yuuri smiles, shrugging lightly.
“I think he meant well, although his method of approach was a little… aggressive.”
“He’s never been one for subtlety or tact. So, again, I apologise for my business partner.” And yes he might be stressing the business part of the apology, but Yuuri gives him that small smile again and he finally feels the knot in his stomach loosen. The silence that falls between them is filled with that weird feeling of familiarity again, setting Victor’s mind running in a million and one directions as he tries to place Yuuri and fails once again. He casts around for something to say to fill the gap in conversation and manages only few words, Yuuri having seemingly had the same panic and the cut over each other.
“How’re you fin-” Victor tries.
“Do you ever-” There’s a halting minute of apologies and ‘after you’s’ that has both of their cheeks pink and Victor’s stomach twisting in apprehension as Yuuri clears his throat to continue. “Well, I was thinking that we could eat? I mean I don’t know about you but I need something a bit more substantial than finger food and nibbles and there’s a place a couple of blocks down that does amazing burgers-”
“I love burgers-” Not exactly smooth, but Victor excuses himself from the idiocy of that statement because his heart just thumped painfully in his chest. “I mean- Yes. I’d love to.”
“Oh. Good- Great!” The smile that blooms across Yuuri’s features is radiant, and Victor -for the first time tonight- doesn’t care about working out how he knows Yuuri, he wants to get to know Yuuri. He wants to see that smile again and again and never get bored of the lighter-than-air feeling that fills his chest.
“Yeah.” He’s smiling at Yuuri again, dumbly smiling and just staring at him. “I should- uh- do work. But I’ll catch up with you after?”
“Yeah, that’s perfect.” Yuuri is still looking up at him warmly, his eyes are really brown.
“Perfect.” Victor is rooted to the spot, he should be moving but Yuuri just wet his lips and it’s entrancing. There’s another few seconds of mutual regard, but this time instead of an inquisitive edge it’s tampered with a buzzing of anticipation. There’s intent behind it now and the blush across the bridge of Victor’s nose spreads across his cheeks as he runs a hand through his hair. “Okay, I’m going.” Yuuri laughs at that and shoo’s him away with a grin that has Victor paying very little attention to whatever the next patron he bumps into asks him.
It’s like counting grains of salt, or waiting for the next bus in the winter, Victor thinks. It’s that interminable stretch of banal conversation and farewells as the guests start pulling on jackets, heading out into the curling Fall air with collars upturned and hands buried in pockets. He throws himself into it, wishing every one of the people providing his paycheck away with toothy smiles.
Victor isn’t good at waiting, he knows. Waiting leads to thinking, and then overthinking in quick succession. What if Yuuri is bored of him by the time they’re setting off for their date? What if the flirty interactions are a flash in the pan and Yuuri changes his mind about him after actually talking to him? Can five minutes of conversation and a weird sense of familiarity translate into a good date? Is it even a date, really?
The thing that makes it bearable is the Looks. He catches Yuuri looking at him from the corner of his eye on more than one occasion, he’s caught in the act of watching Yuuri twice- each time there are shy smiles and more amused shooing from Yuuri that he responds to with a quiet laugh and a wave. He can wish away every guest and soon they’ll be chatting again. Easy.
They’re down to the last couple of stragglers, Chulanont and Celestino joining himself and Chris in seeing them off when Yuuri catches his elbow and his attention simultaneously. “I’m just going to the bathroom, meet me after?” He looks a little unsure about it, but Victor only smiles at him and gives him a shooing of his own. He’s a little nervous himself, he’s never been one to just jump into a date the same night he’s met the person, but something about Yuuri is making his guards fall.
“So you unfucked it then?” Christophe mercifully waits until the last guests have cleared out before he asks, but Victor still winces at the bluntness of the question.
“No thanks to you, yes.” He sniffs airily but the composure doesn’t last, he’s just this side of excited now and he grabs Chris’ fingers and shakes them. “We’re going for dinner. Dinner , Chris!”
“Oh wow, Dinner ! How will you ever survive?” Chris isn’t bothering to hide the irony in his tone.
“ I don’t know . He’s really sweet, and funny, and I don’t know if I’ll survive!”
“Well don’t die yet, your loverboy is heading over-” Chris nods into the distance behind Victor’s shoulder and his heart redoubles it’s efforts to kill him. He grips Chris’ fingers tighter.
“How do I look, do I look okay?” It comes out a little more panicked than he’s expecting, but Chris laughs and assures him he looks amazing after a once over. He takes a deep breath before turning to greet Yuuri.
And then everything- everything falls into place.
Because the Yuuri heading over to him isn’t all cheekbones and slicked back hair, he’s lost the tie (which frankly, Victor had hated anyway) and is looking far more dressed down without his suit jacket pulling him into a sharp hourglass. The Yuuri walking towards him now has hair falling into his face and glasses magnifying his eyes, just like they had five years ago. He’s smiling a little nervously, his dress shirt making him look swamped and Victor remembers how he’d looked bundled up in too many layers in a coffee shop just off campus, curled up on a couch and sending the same smile right at Victor in the candlelight.
It had been Yuuri’s first winter in Detroit, he knows, because Yuuri had been embarrassed by how much he’d underestimated the cold, and how the snow could come down so fast when he’d taken shelter from the sudden blizzard. Victor had been at the end of what he’d supposed was his last winter in the city, working part-time as a barista and cramming for finals between customers when Yuuri had rolled in, shivering hard and in need of at least three mugs of tea. Victor had laughed gently at the Yuuri’s apologies and bundled him up in throw blankets, the place was empty and he was here for another three hours, or longer judging by the way the snow was piling up on the street. He’d settled Yuuri and gone back to his lecture notes, hoping to jam another few pieces of Renaissance information into his brain before the end of his shift and closing snuck up on him.
It wasn’t to be, sadly.
Instead the power had gone out and Victor had found himself snowed in with a first-year student who didn’t cope well with shocks. He’d scrounged up a few candles left over from the Valentine’s themed night, and calmed Yuuri with as much gusto as he could manage. It would have been forgettable, or maybe an anecdote to be laughed at at dinner parties, if not for the way Yuuri had curled under the throw blankets, soft in the candlelight and Talked to him. Talked with a capital T because Yuuri didn’t seem to be able to do chit-chat, he pulled out embarrassing stories and hopes and dreams, he’d examined Victor’s life over his twenty-two years gently, and returned the regard. He’d spoken of his homesickness and missing his family and his Poodle Vicchan, he’d spoken about being unsure of his studies and if moving across the world was too much on top of wanting a degree.
They’d bonded as only two young, scared people in a strange place can. They’d spoken of everything and nothing and Victor had never told anyone about it. It had been something so so fragile, and so so private. It had been a night preserved in amber and lit but the bluelight filter on Yuuri’s iPhone when he’d shown off pictures of Vicchan, set to the sound of Victor rhapsodising about Makkachin. It had been just for them and Victor had kept it to himself for five years, the memories growing faint with time and distance.
They weren’t faded now though, now they were replaying in glorious technicolor in Victor’s mind as Yuuri’s nervous smile turns down a little at the edges. “Sorry I… washed my face and managed to mess up my hair and it looked terrible so I just-” He waves a hand at his bangs vaguely.
“You’re… you.” He feels as though he’s been hit in the head with something heavy and blunt, probably his own idiocy at not recognising Yuuri immediately. Yuuri, who squints at him confused and questioning. Victor clears his throat and tries again, nerves jangling. “You’re the guy, the coffee shop. We got snowed in-”
“What?” Yuuri’s confusion deepens and he looks Victor over again, “Wait, no- That was-”
“Five years ago.” His heart is thumping heavily against his ribs and he has to wet his lips to buy time to catch his breath, “It was your first Winter in Detroit, I made you-”
“Tea, Apple and Cinnamon.” There’s a dawning of realisation spreading over Yuuri’s features. His eyes widen and mouth drops open, snapping shut almost instantly. “No, wait- that guys had a ratty sweater and a bun…” It comes out accusingly and Victor laughs at how offended Yuuri seems by the loss.
“Yeah, I had a bit of a look back then.”
“You’re… It was really you?” Yuuri’s blushing again.
“Yes. It was really me.” He’s about to offer to pull up old selfies or something, but Yuuri picks up his hand before he can fish out his cellphone.
“I went back, later. To the coffee place. You weren’t there.” He’s talking to Victor’s fingers caught in his, watching the way they tangle.
“You went back?” It’s barely a whisper in the air between them, but Yuuri finally looks away from their hands to catch his eye.
“I wanted to see you again.” It’s a small thing, but Victor’s chest fills with happiness at the words. “I assumed you’d gone back to Russia, you never told me where you were going except back there. I gave up.”
“I’m sorry.” He’s not even sure what he’s apologising for . For not being there? For making Yuuri wait? For quitting his crappy Barista job to throw himself into his last year of College?
“I’m sorry too, I should have looked harder.” Yuuri looks incredibly annoyed at himself, that he didn’t scour the entire populace of Detroit or something. Victor laughs again, pulling Yuuri closer by their still joined hands.
“I could have waited.” He shrugs, “I could have looked for you . Life got in the way, for a while.”
“But not anymore?” They’re so close that Yuuri’s having to look up at Victor, close enough that Victor can smell the woodsy scent of Yuuri’s cologne.
“No. Not anymore.” He wants to close the gap and kiss Yuuri. He wants to lean down those few small inches and taste his lips. He can see the way Yuuri’s breath catches at the regard, eyes darting over Victor’s face-
“Okay, you guys need to get a room.” Chris’ voice shocks them both with its closeness, Yuuri jumps back from him quickly and Victor blushes heavily. He catches his best friend watching them with arms crossed and a raised eyebrow, Chulanont is beside him, mirroring his posture and grinning.
“Or we could get out of this one and leave them to it?”
“That’s what good friends would do-”
“Mhmm, but then we’d be aiding and abetting this lovefest.” Phichit’s laughing at them, it shows in his eyes and the way they watch Yuuri blushing. “I thought you had a date to go on?”
“I do. I think?” His eyes dart to Victor for confirmation and he wants to kiss him again for just how sweet he looks.
“Yes. We do. Right now.” He grabs Yuuri’s hand again and pulls him to his side. “If you’ll excuse us?”
He doesn’t wait for a reply from their friends, nor does he listen to Yuuri’s weak protests. He pulls Yuuri after him and grabs his coat, helping Yuuri into his own and reclaiming his hand when they head out onto the street, thankfully clear of snow. Yuuri pulls a wild laugh from him when he asks, “So, how’ve the last five years been?”
He laughs, Yuuri laughs. It’s warm and familiar in a way that makes so much sense to Victor. As they enter the Diner, their hands still joined Victor promises not to let him go, this time.