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One quiet, cold December eve, a young couple sat in front of their window, watching the white snowflakes fall to the snow-covered ground, their balcony and the last amber colored leaves, that hadn't fallen off the trees and twigs yet. The peaceful snowflakes seemed to speak without using any words, telling the two of them to stop worrying about such little things.
While watching the beautiful scene, Yuuri's slim fingers traveled down the length of his boyfriend's wonderful, long tresses. He had always been fascinated by the beauty of Victor's bright blue eyes, the color of the oceans and the skies combined, his incredibly smooth skin, his perfectly shaped body, soft lips and especially his uniquely looking, lovely, silver-colored hair that reached the area around his thighs. Yuuri had always wondered how it was possible that Victor's hair was so long and yet looked so healthy, thick and silky but came to the conclusion it was just one of the privileges of being the most beautiful man in the world. Playing with the locks had seemed to be one of the only things that could distract Yuuri from his homesickness and the awful fights going on inside his head back in the days, just after Yuuri moved to Russia. It had been a hard time for both of them. Those fights sometimes even drove him to the point of despair and tears. Those days, Victor had always been there for him. To cuddle. To kiss him over and over again. To sing to him, melodies so soft and pure. Songs about the love and feelings that they shared.
This Christmas Eve had been a perfect example of a night Yuuri needed Victor by his side, close, to feel his love and warmth and to enjoy his company. Yuuri felt a clenching feeling inside his chest. Christmas was supposed to be the day for them to show their love in the form of presents instead of kisses and affection, but Yuuri wasn't sure if he even had enough money to buy Victor a present this year. He had already known what he wanted to give Victor for months, but the chance he would actually be able to hand Victor the gift on Christmas Day seemed to become smaller and smaller as the time passed.
The whole town suffered from what could easily be called a huge 'crisis'. Many youngsters had moved to the bigger cities the last few months, since making money would be much easier there, causing the rest of the town to make much less money than usual. People weren't able to pay their debts any longer, they didn't have enough to eat. Victor felt more grateful than ever for being a greengrocer, even though it hadn't always been the most thrilling job. People needed their fruit and vegetables and there was no way that Victor would ever lose his job, especially not now the village suffered from this crisis. But then, singular weeks ago, Victor made a huge mistake. When he bumped into a young boy out on the streets, skinny and hungry, he felt so much pity that he promised the boy to bring him food every day. Little did Victor know the boy's whole family would expect free food from him. And little did he know how dangerous those people were. And so, Victor lost half of his products to the poor family on a daily basis. And so, he lost half of his profit.
Of course, Victor told Yuuri about what happened. Yuuri asked Victor to move as well, but somehow Victor had refused to leave their town. He had been born and raised here, and the power of the beautiful sentiment, his childhood memories and many more things seemed stronger than the urge to make money. Yuuri agreed with Victor but only because he loved him so.
Yuuri hadn't spoken about his gift dilemma with Victor yet. He didn't want to be a bad boyfriend to him. Not after all they had gone through. The people in this town, who were Orthodox people who lived the way their holy book wanted them to, didn't all accept Victor and Yuuri's incredibly strong bond. First of all, because Yuuri came from Japan. And second of all, because they both were men. Basically everyone except mrs. Lavrova, the florist who lived close to the village center, mr. Pashin, the baker and of course mr. and mrs. Plisetsky, who owned the local barbershop did not accept them, Yuuri concluded. A sin, is what all those other people called the love Victor and Yuuri felt for each other. And each time that painful word escaped a person's lips, no matter how softly or muffled, Yuuri's glass heart broke into a thousand little pieces. Victor helped him search for all those pieces and helped him puzzle the pieces into an artwork again. But some pieces were too hard to ever find back...
Yuuri slowly laid back, resting his head onto his lover's lap. While twisting one of Victor's soft locks around his fingers, Yuuri's eye fell on the cheap, gold painted, aluminum ring around his own finger (it was all they could afford). How long would they still call themselves engaged? Yuuri wondered. He had well known that a marriage between two men would be like humans walking on the moon ever since Victor proposed to him, that silent and warm summer night. Impossible. A wish that would never come true... Yet, Yuuri couldn't wait for that day to come. And he could dream about it. The day he could call Victor his husband and share his life with him, forever.
"Victor... Why did you even propose to me? You know it's... It's a crazy idea, us being married. It's easily not possible..." Yuuri asked quietly, his warm voice subdued under what could only be his own sadness. Then, a hand touched one of his soft, chubby cheeks. "Because it's our dream, Yuuri. And with the ring, we can at least give our dream a little symbolic hope..." Victor had replied before bending over and placed a kiss onto his lover's lips, so pure and sweet and filled with love. And especially, filled with hope. And Yuuri smiled a little.
"You're gonna love your Christmas present, Yuuri." Victor said. "I'm sure."
"So are you." Yuuri replied to him, closed his eyes and fell asleep on Victor's lap. Victor carefully detangled Yuuri's fingers from his hair, something that had become a daily routine over the years and his heart almost ached as he realized that this was the last time he would ever do so.
The very next morning, Victor placed his hand on the doorknob, took a deep breath and opened the door, leading to a huge room filled with wooden heads and half-finished wigs. He had been here before, many times, to bring Mrs. Plisetsky her fresh vegetables and fruit but this time, the doll heads and long, severed hair made him feel much more uncomfortable than ever. He could already imagine his own, dear mane hanging there, chopped off, a wonderful waterfall of silver, and the idea made him cringe already. Next, a pair of old, green, desperately looking eyes, that belonged to the owner of the shop herself, greeted him. Before Victor could even open his mouth to greet her, the woman had already looked back to her paperwork and sighed. "Oh Victor, it's so busy. There are so many things I got to finish first. We make so little money ever since all of those people left. And no one ever donates anything to me. Would you mind coming back tomorrow? I don't think the fruit will rot in one day." She said softly. Victor came closer and looked the old woman into her eyes. "I'm not here to bring you your order, mrs." Victor stayed silent for a couple of seconds and tried to ignore the horrible nerves that rushed through his body. "I want to sell my hair."
Mrs. Plisetsky's eyes widened. "Oh, no! No! You don't have to! Vitya, please! Please! We'll make it with a little less donations as well. It would just be a shame of your lovely hair!" The shop owner began, but Victor firmly shook his head. "I need the money myself. To buy Yuuri a Christmas present. I want to buy him a new watch chain, but we don't have enough money... And the watch used to be his father's. That watch means so much to him."
"And you really want to sell your hair for that? Are you sure? You're so sweet, Victor."
"Thank you, miss."
Mrs. Plisetsky searched for another pencil and continued signing the papers. "I'll be with you in a couple of minutes, dear." She spoke, sighed once again and continued signing her paperwork.
-
"How's Yuuri doing?" Mrs. Plisetsky asked Victor as she began combing through his silky hair, that easily parted like water. Victor felt horrible. The heavy cape he wore made him feel as if he was drowning in synthetic, navy blue water he couldn't escape from. He felt like one of those porcelain dolls his sister used to play with when she was little. They were small and beautiful, but unable to move. His sister used to cut her dolls' long hair off and regret it right after. And Victor was scared the same would happen to him. "He's doing fine, lately." Victor replied when the words finally sunk in, still trying to sound as relaxed as he could. "He seems much calmer than a while ago, luckily." He said and a smile appeared on his nervous face.
"How's Yuri doing?" Victor asked to win time, since he wanted to postpone the haircut as long as possible. Mrs. Plisetsky stopped combing Victor's hair and sighed quietly, running her free hand through her thinning, ash blonde hair. "It's gotten worse. Ever since he's known about my disease, he only reads, locked up inside his room. And we don't wanna upset him. So we let him do whatever he wants. We bring him food and books to read. He loves reading. But he usually just sleeps..." Mrs. Plisetsky wiped away a single tear that had escaped from her eyes. "Every day, his skin gets paler, his eyes get puffier and his hair gets longer and more matted. Oh... He looks so bad... It's the only way for us to keep track of how long he has been feeling like this already... But... I-I'm so worried about him..."
Victor turned around and faced the woman who had once been so beautiful for someone of her age, until she heard about her disease singular months ago. Cancer. A brain tumor. Untreatable. Her health had decreased quickly and every day when Victor visited her house to bring her her fruit and vegetables, he saw she became less pretty. Less strong. The wonderful woman with the well known wig boutique had turned into a wreck in less than 3 months, and it had been awful to Victor to watch it happen.
And so did her grandson, Yuri. A young, talented ballet dancer with a beautiful face, silky blonde hair and strong eyes. The whole village knew Yuri would grow up to be the new top ballet dancer of Russia, until he got into an awful depression. He could not accept his grandma's disease, the idea of his loving grandfather, forced to live the rest of his miserable life on his own... The thought had easily been unbearable for him.
Mrs. Plisetsky quietly continued. "And I thought... It's 1912! If they are able to build an unsinkable ship all the way there, in America, why wouldn't I be able to stay alive? For Nikolai, and for Yuri...?" More and more tears started to fall, and Victor placed his hand onto the lady's arm, trying to give as much support as possible. "And I've prayed to the Lord to make me feel better. And to make Yuri feel better. And for Yuri, it worked. God sent Yuri that boy that helps Nikolai in the shop. A while ago, we were searching for a new employee, and there he was! A young man from the southern part of the Russian Empire with a rich family, 18 years old. He has more than enough money, even though he comes from such a poor region. He doesn't even have to work! But he wanted to live a normal life, and he's doing a great job, actually! He became Yuri's caretaker. He talks with him and sometimes, I can even hear them laugh. But for me, the prayers don't work. It just gets worse with the day, Victor... It doesn't hurt. But I'm so tired..."
"Don't cry, alright?" Victor began and smiled a little, his sky blue eyes filled with tears. "You're doing a great job fighting this disease. And Yuri is young. He'll be fine. And now that new employee is here for him, he will feel much better soon! And my Yuuri and I pray for you on a daily basis. The whole town does! There's nothing to worry about yet!" Victor spoke and reached for mrs. Plisetsky's hand, squeezing it softly. "And if you go, we will all remember you as the wonderful woman you have always been. And you will be rewarded for all the great things you've done in heaven."
Mrs. Plisetsky nodded and smiled into the mirror, through her tears, laughing the pain away. "I'd almost forgot why you're here! And those silly tears won't help anyway. Shall we go on?" She asked, still sobbing quietly (but smiling at the same time) and Victor nodded. He sat straight up again and felt mrs. Plisetsky ran the comb right through his tresses for one last time. Then, she reached out for the scissors and another comb, with smaller teeth.
"How would you like it? To your shoulders?" Mrs, Plisetsky asked. Victor shook his head. "For the amount of money you offered me, you should cut off as much as possible. Otherwise it would not be fair."
Mrs. Plisetsky had given Victor 3000 rubles for his locks. A fortune! Victor was sure he could fix at least 4 watches with that much money and of course, he had refused to take it at first. But the old lady wanted Victor to take her money. First of all, because Victor's hair was easily worth the 3000 rubles and second of all, because she rather wanted this hardworking, young man to enjoy his life together with his fiancé than saving all of her money up for her own funeral.
"Are you sure you want that? It would be a huge change to go from this length to a very short style." Mrs. Plisetsky began and her voice sounded higher than usual, maybe because she felt so sorry for Victor having to sell one of his best features just to buy his love a present.
"Do you think it would look good on me?" Victor hesitatingly asked, grabbing a lock of hair in a reflex.
The old lady nodded, smiling. "I do. It would definitely go with your face shape and it would accentuate your jawline. Maybe, something with a fringe?"
"Alright. I trust you with it."
Victor looked at his own reflection in the mirror, playing with a strand of his mid-thigh length hair for what could be the last time ever. Victor was scared that he wouldn't even recognize himself anymore after the haircut and he was scared Yuuri would leave him. That he wouldn't find him attractive any longer. But not buying him a Christmas present would be ten times worse.
"I'm going to ask it for one last time. Are you sure you want this?"
"Yes. Definitely."
The lady opened the drawer of her white dressing table, decorated with all kinds of delicate, blue and pink flowers, painted on the drawer with pastel colored oil paint. She searched for a ribbon and carefully tied together the strands halfway down the length of Victor's hair, picked up her scissors once again, positioning them just above Victor's ear and paused for a moment. Nerves rushed through Victor's body as he felt the cold steel against his sensitive skin and tears welled up in his eyes. Was Yuuri's watch even worth sacrificing all of his beautiful hair? Yes, it was. He knew how much Yuuri loved the wonderful, golden watch that had once been his father's.
"It's not going to hurt. I always work carefully. And I'll make you look so handsome. Don't worry." Mrs. Plisetsky spoke when she noticed how bad Victor trembled. Then, she closed the edges around the hair and the first lock of silver fell away, like rain, shining in the moonlight on a silent summer night. Victor realized there was no going back now and told himself there was no reason to be scared anymore. The worst part was over after all, right? And yet, he kept trembling as mrs. Plisetsky's old but delicate and steady hands continued working a way around his scalp, the loud snips screaming into his ears. "You're doing great, Victor." Victor smiled, even though every little slicing sound made him feel more sick. It had been the first time he ever wished for his hair to be less thick, just so this terrible process wouldn't take this long... "We're halfway there." And more snips followed.
Most people would feel as if they were getting treated like a child if someone told them something like that, but to Victor, who always interpreted everything a positive way, found the words the lady said nothing but comforting since this was been one of the scariest things he had ever done.
Finally, Victor felt his heavy ponytail fall away. His treasure. And his safety blanket... He couldn't hold back his tears any longer and started sobbing loudly, buried his face into his shaking hands and cried. He felt horribly naked without his mane, exposed and small and way too touchable. "Oh, dear..." the old lady's voice cracked and she stepped closer to Victor's sobbing figure, her hand on his shoulders to give him some strength and support.
"It really meant a lot to you, didn't it? Why didn't you just sell something else?"
"I-I... Whenever I greet someone, they look away! All because of... Of Yuuri and I! A-And they would never buy anything from us. I've tried to sell my books, the paintings I made... Even my clothes. But they don't want it, because it's mine."
"That's horrible..."
"I-I know... And yes, I loved my hair. I still do. But Yuuri is worth much more."
And while Mrs. Plisetsky was helping Victor, the bells of the jewelry store ringed loudly into Yuuri's ears. Yuuri knew the people who owned this shop weren't exactly keen on Victor and him and an unfamiliar feeling that felt like a combination of anger, sadness, fear and nervousness rushed through Yuuri's veins but yet, he couldn't turn around and go home. He had to try it. He just had to try his best to sell his watch.
Yuuri walked towards the desk in front of him and pulled the golden watch out of his bag, his fingers clutched around it tightly as if he was scared someone would easily steal it from him. "Hello... I would like to sell my..." Yuuri swallowed nervously and smiled, trying to hide his sadness. "... my watch. It's pretty old and I guess it's worth a lot of money. It's made out of real gold, made in Japan hundreds of years ago and-"
The man behind the desk cut off Yuuri's sentence and started into the widened, brown eyes, his own eyes shooting fire. "I don't care what it's worth." He spoke terrifyingly calmly. "We don't buy stuff from sinners. Get out."
Desperately, Yuuri tried once again. "Please... I need the money." He began. The man just started laughing, mockingly.
"To buy your boyfriend a Christmas present? Get-out." He didn't sound as calm as he did a couple of seconds ago anymore. He sounded much more annoyed and stepped closer to Yuuri, bending over the desk so he could look him into his eyes even more intimidatingly. He knew this guy was sensitive, easy to break. A heart of glass.
"No!" Yuuri said again. "It's... It's for my niece. She's 9 years old and I want to buy her toys." There was no other way out for Yuuri but lying to the man. Not that he deserved anything but lies and pain, though...
The jeweler bit on his lip for a second and nodded. "Fine. How much do you want for it?"
"1000 rubles would be enough... It has much sentimental value for me..."
"1000 rubles for that old thing? I don't think so. 600."
"Yeah... Fine."
Yuuri looked at his watch and sighed uncomfortably, bringing the golden object closer to his lips. A tear escaped from his eye as his lips touched the watch and the moment his father had handed it to his showed up in front of his eyes. His loving and supporting father who wanted to give Yuuri something to remember him after his death. Yuuri remembered crying into Mari's arms for weeks, months, maybe even a year after his father passed away. The death of his father had been hard to accept for him.
But then, he met Victor and his life suddenly got a little bit more color again. Victor came to Japan to visit a family member who had moved to Yuuri's country a couple of years ago and Yuuri was surprised by how great his Japanese was. Yuuri spoke a little Russian, but he was sure he couldn't speak more than three sentences without making mistakes. But he tried. And that was what made Victor fall for him. Not the fact that Yuuri's eyes glowed, his skin looked so smooth and soft or that his hair looked so messy and cute. It was the way Yuuri talked Russian to him with his heavy Japanese accent, trying his best not to make any mistakes.
And Yuuri didn't fall for Victor because he had the most wonderful blue eyes, amazingly long, silver hair or sky blue clothes that matched his eyes perfect. Yuuri fell for Victor smile. And suddenly, with Victor's smile, all the problems seemed to disappear. The worries, the pain, the fear.
A sudden movement in front of him brought Yuuri back to earth. The man had pushed a little bag of money into his hands. "I'm sure we can make something nice out of that ugly thing after we have molded it into something new." The man seemed to enjoy the tears, stained into Yuuri's eyes. Quietly, Yuuri walked out of the door, leaving his watch and his memories behind.
That exact moment, someone opened the door of Yuri Plisetsky's room.
"Yuri... I've got your dinner here. Mashed potatoes and stroganoff. Grandpa made it for you. With extra mushrooms." Otabek spoke softly and opened Yuri's door with one hand, focusing on the other so he wouldn't drop Yuri's food.
"I hate stroganoff." A muffled voice spoke.
"Yuri, it's one of your favorite dishes. You need to eat."
"I don't."
Otabek walked inside Yuri's room and placed the plate on the drawer next to him and sat down on Yuri's bed, carefully brushing the pale face with his back of his hand. "I'm really worried about you."
Otabek looked at the unopened bag of piroshki next to Yuri's bed and sighed. "I mean, you didn't even eat your piroshki... You haven't been outside for months. And you haven't washed yourself in weeks."
Yuri turned around and buried his face into his pillow. "Why would I wash myself if I'm not planning to go outside anyway?"
"Hygiene is an important part of being a healthy person. And you need sunlight. Look at how pale you are."
"What does it matter if I'm healthy or not? I only need grandma to get better. I can't lose any more people. And it will wreck grandpa if she dies."
Otabek reached for both of Yuri's crazy cold hands and held them tightly, desperately trying to warm up the ice cold fingers with his own body heat. "Grandma wants you to be happy and healthy Yuri... You know nothing and nobody will ever be able to cure her. But she can't enjoy her last days if you aren't there for her."
Yuri knew Otabek was right. Yuri knew Otabek was always right. Yuri knew Otabek was the best friend ever and he just wanted the best for him. And yet, he didn't listen to him. He stayed inside his room all day, staring at the ceiling, thinking about the time he used to be happy. Every night and day, he danced to classical music inside his head and cried.
Gently, Otabek cupped Yuri's face. "In an hour, the shop closes. Your grandparents will go upstairs, so we have the whole shop for ourselves. If you go wash yourself in the mean time, I'll help the last costumers, alright?" He said and Yuri tilted his head a little. It looked adorable.
"Why..?"
Otabek smiled a rare smile. A smile that was only meant for Yuri. "I'm gonna make you feel and look good again. And tomorrow, we're going out with your grandma and grandpa. And we're going to tell them the truth about us and make this the best Christmas ever."
-
About an hour later, Yuri took place into the huge, leather chair and looked into the mirror in front of him, noticing how pale his face looked and how crazy skinny his arms were. His blonde hair had grown past his shoulders (way too long to Yuri's taste) in greasy, matted locks and he had awfully dark circles underneath his glassy, green eyes. Yuri hadn't looked into the mirror for a good 3 months and he was horrified.
"Yura, you got to come here first. We're gonna wash your hair." Otabek loudly said, walked over and helped Yuri stand up so he could guide him towards the washing table. "It's way too knotty to wash." Yuri complained softly, but Otabek didn't listen to him. "That doesn't matter. It's easier for me to cut if it's clean. And you'll feel much better right after. I'm sure."
And again, he had been right. The feeling of Otabek's fingers against his scalp, the soft humming and the love felt more like happiness than sadness. Happiness, a feeling that Yuri almost completely forgot about. Yuri hadn't felt anything close to happiness for months, and so, it seemed like a little, well deserved break from all the burden he had been dealing with. "I can fix it up. Your hair is amazing to work with." Otabek said while massaging Yuri's scalp, carefully. "How do you know?" Yuri's weak and hoarse voice, that had been hardly used to talk with for ages, asked. "Don't you remember that time I trimmed it for you? And cut those layers you wanted? Shortened your bangs?" Otabek asked but Yuri shook his head. "I don't remember anything..."
Yuri noticed Otabek stopped massaging his scalp right after he had finished his sentence. "You don't remember when we first kissed?"
Yuri shook his head again. "Everything just vanished. All the memories. I'm so sorry."
Otabek nodded, trying to ignore the awful feeling inside his heart that you could describe as the feeling of a thousand little knives slicing through its flesh. He didn't remember anything. And Otabek scolded himself. How could he have ever let this happen? Didn't he take good care of Yuri? His Yura?
"It's not your fault." Yuri said, as if he could read his boyfriend's mind. The bright green eyes looked up to Otabek and Yuri brought up his hand, touching Otabek's cheek. "Without your help, I wouldn't even have come this far."
A half smile formed on Yuri's face and even though Otabek wasn't sure if he really felt happy or if it was just a smile to satisfy him, it was the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.
"I think I'm done washing it." Otabek spoke and helped Yuri stand up again. His legs had become too weak to even stand up without help. Would Yuri ever be able to dance again? Otabek wondered. He hadn't ever seen Yuri dance, but he could just imagine how wonderful it must have looked, Yuri's long, thin legs moving gracefully as he moved his arms delicately to Tchaikovsky in the background. A feeling of euphoria. He was sure watching Yuri dance must have felt like watching a miracle happen from up close.
But that miracle did not exist anymore. He turned into a broken mess of skinny limbs and matted hair, glassy eyes, hunger and broken dreams.
Yuri looked into the mirror once again. "I really can't comb through this." He heard. And then, without even asking for Yuri's permission, Otabek began cutting away the knots, as carefully as he could. He knew how much Yuri used to like to tie up or braid his hair, but there was no way he could ever comb through this mess. And except for gasping silently, Yuri said nothing and let it all happen. His emotions had vanished over the months, and so did all the feelings he had developed for his hair or whatever other things he used to love back in the days during the past year. Yuri watched the blonde knots, that had once been beautiful, thick locks that framed his face perfectly, fall into his lap and to the floor.
When he finished, Otabek kneeled down in front of Yuri, who just looked back into Otabek's with eyes that didn't show a sign of emotion. "Sorry..." he began. "I love you, Yura..." Otabek said softly, his heart breaking when Yuri's expression didn't change a thing. "What happened to you..?"
"People change as times change..." was all Yuri replied. "But I want you to believe I'm not just looking for attention." he continued and touched Otabek's face, drawing a line from where his sharp jawline ended, all the way back to his chin and placed his index finger onto his boyfriend's lips. "Because I still love you. I really do. But I can't lose any more people. The news about grandma's disease wrecked me. I know how bad it would hurt grandpa. And... And since mom and dad..."
"Yura..." Otabek began softly, reaching for Yuri's hand. "Even if the whole world leaves you, I'd still be here for you, alright? And I want you to believe that. The only way you can make your grandparents happy again is by becoming healthy again yourself."
Sometimes, Otabek didn't even need an answer to make sure Yuri heard him. The look in his eyes was more than enough for him to realize Yuri fully understood what he had said.
And Yuri indeed understood.
-
"Merry Christmas Yuuri." Victor said softly, handing Yuuri the present. Their fingers touched and even though they had been together for over 3 years now, they both still blushed whenever they accidentally touched each other, like two schoolchildren in the glory of their first affair.
The white snow fell to the snow covered ground once again, to their balcony and the last leaves that hadn't fallen off the twigs yet. And their love burned like the fire that burned inside the fireplace.
Yuuri took off the baby blue wrapping paper and saw the watch chain, blinking his eyes for at least 4 times before looking at Victor. "I..." he began, but he didn't manage to find the words he was looking for. How could he ever tell his love that he had bought him a worthless present? He was sure Victor had saved his money for months to buy him this. A chain of pure gold...
"Don't you like it?" Victor asked. It couldn't be. He didn't want it to be true. He gave up his hair for this. All of it.
"I do Vitya... I really do! And I love you, oh so much! But..." Yuuri paused once again and reached for Victor's hands. "I sold my watch to buy you your present."
"Your watch..?" Victor asked, full of disbelief. That watch had always meant so incredibly much to Yuuri.
"Yes, my watch... But you are worth it!"
Yuuri handed Victor a small box, wrapped in brown paper. Victor's eyes filled up with tears as he saw what was inside. "Oh, Yuuri, you will never believe this." Victor quietly said with a cracked voice as he looked closely at the box of beautifully decorated combs Yuuri had bought for him. Those had become useless as well, since there was hardly any hair left longer than his ears.
"I've sold my hair to buy you the chain." Victor spoke as he immediately noticed Yuuri's eyes grey and without any hesitation, he took off his hood and revealed his hair to Yuuri, who stared at it with huge eyes.
A moment of silence followed. Painful silence.
A sudden sob disturbed the silence. "No... No." Yuuri began but he couldn't bring out any more words. Before he knew it, Yuuri was choking on his own sobs. He embraced Victor and held onto him tightly, hand grabbing his shoulders. "I-I loved your hair!" Yuuri sobbed and Victor bit on his lip, unable to say anything. He had expected Yuuri not to like his hair, but this?
"I'm sorry Yuuri. I'm so sorry." Victor began but his voice sounded weak underneath the loud sobs of his love. "I-It doesn't matter Vitya. It's not your fault. I shouldn't have been so stupid to sell my watch." Yuuri began. "And I should stop hoping for us to get married one day. And I should stop-"
"Yuuri." Victor placed his fingers under Yuuri's chin and lifted up his face so he could look into the deep brown, teary eyes. "I love you. Marriage or no marriage. Watch or no watch. Fit or chubby. I love you. Always."
And if they ever married each other? We will never know. What we do know is that their love never burned out, the two of them moved to another country and became two wealthy people who made their money by starting a new, successful career. At one point, Yuuri even made so much money he was able to buy a new, golden watch. But this watch had never been his father's... Victor tried to grow back his hair but gave up on it after only a couple of months. Due all the stress he had gone through, his hair had become all thin and lifeless.
The same Christmas night, Yuri and Otabek went to the only restaurant in their town. The food wasn't amazing, but it was much better than his grandpa's stroganoff, Yuri concluded. Yuri had cried into his grandma's shoulder and his grandma did the same.
And if Yuri ever became a professional ballet dancer? We will never know. What we do know is that Otabek promised Mr. and Mrs. Plisetsky he would take care of Yuri until he was able to take care of himself again. Mrs. Plisetsky died the same night, satisfied. With trust in Otabek. That he wouldn't ever break his promise. And he never did.