Chapter Text
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WHERE THEY STAND:
Distant memories of ten years ago.
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There was a certain emotion that only happens when you’re dressing up for a wedding that isn’t your own. It’s a lingering kind of feeling – perhaps a liminal space – but more there was a tender tearing at the heart that made it too distinct from a simple space.
Yuri hated it. He hated the invitation, the preparation, the celebration, and the exit. They weren’t going to last, anyway, so why the hell did it matter if they were going to tie the knot or not?
“I’m not wearing it.”
He wasn’t the only one that seemed to express this distaste, either. Yuri looked over, seeing the girl pout and cross her arms with a stern glare. She looked cute in a dress; it wasn’t a common thing to see.
Yuri fixed his suit in the mirror before he looked back – the only thing they were missing now were their shoes. He sighed. “You know you have to.”
“But I don’t want to.”
“There’s a lot of things we don’t want to do, but we have to do it anyway because it needs to be done. That’s growing up, Veruca.” Yuri’s voice was particularly cold then, particularly devoid of life. He was talking about other things at the exact same time.
Veruca pouted, not saying anything until Yuri simply walked over and kneeled in front of her. “I’ll make a deal with you: if you wear the dress and you behave, we’ll leave early and I’ll give you a special surprise. How does that sound?”
Her pout relaxed some, the child’s eyes softened around the idea. She pursed her lips for a moment as she toyed with the thought before she took a deep breath and nodded. “That sounds good.”
Yuri smiled warmly at her, gently petting her arms to get her to smile some in return. “You just need to play the game. If you can do that, I’ll surprise you. Deal?”
Veruca’s eyes met Yuri’s, hazel meeting green, and she gave him a curt nod. “Deal.”
Otabek was used to playing the game. He did it to appease his family. He did it to bring pride to his country. He’s doing it now to keep his marriage alive.
This wedding was just another level in the game.
After he was ready he didn’t remember much of what happened, but he did see a reflection of himself in the mirror. There was a person there that he didn’t recognise. He took a deep breath, tilting his head around to make sure he didn’t miss a spot when shaving, and that’s when he just looked down at the sink.
There was no simpler way to put it: life sucked.
“Papaaaaa!”
Well, not entirely.
Otabek looked at the girl, smiling wide as he did and he knelt down to be on her level. “What is it, Aisha?”
She grinned with her teeth showing, swishing her dress around and dancing a little in place. “You’re taking a long time. I wanna go dance!”
Otabek just chuckled slightly, about to speak but suddenly he was cut off by a sharp voice. “That’s a nice way to say ‘hurry the fuck up.’”
He took a deep breath, looking up at the green eyes staring down at him. They just weren’t the same. “I’m done, I’m done. Please watch your language around Aisha.”
There was a scoff, then a flicked tsk. “I’ll say whatever the hell I want. Just hurry the fuck up. Aisha, come here.”
Nothing was said at that moment, then Otabek stood up again. He looked down to his little girl with a reassuring smile, before nudging her gently. “Don’t worry, we’re leaving now so you can dance real soon. Go on now, listen to your mother.”
Aisha gave him an uneasy look, before obeying what her father said. She followed the woman out the door, before the three of them got into the car to leave.
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WHAT CAME BEFORE:
Too much.
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At one point in the ceremony, Veruca had practically forgotten she was wearing a dress. She found other kids around her age to play with in the ballroom and Yuri hadn’t heard a complaint from her since. He kept an eye on her though, in case other kids were going to be cruel to her or until she starts to look tired and bored.
She was still lively and energetic every time he’d glance over, so he took the chance to get himself something from the food table. They had already eaten when the ceremony first started about an hour ago, so unless Veruca expresses a need for seconds, he just wanted to get something to drink.
Unfortunately, there was nothing with alcohol.
Yuri sighed slightly to himself, settling for some punch in a tiny-ass clear cup. Besides, the more he thought about it the more he’d rather stay sober for Veruca; he had to take her home at the end of the night, after all.
He pushed the ladle into the punch, making sure to get some ice before he carefully poured it into his little cup. When he finished, he slowly brought the cup to his lips, but after one word – one voice – the cup froze right there.
“Hey.”
Yuri swallowed hard. He brought the cup down and felt his grip tightening as his breathing got a little shaky. He slowly turned his head, seeing the voice match the person – there had never been so much pain in recognizing a pair of eyes.
“Hey,” Yuri muttered out quietly, almost like a whisper. He bit his lips, and he waited for the voice to leave. It wouldn’t. It continued to speak, trying to force a conversation where nothing could be made. It was basic alchemy: the law of equivalent exchange.
Otabek took a deep breath, pausing for a moment trying to carefully choose his words and recollect the proper thoughts so the worst won’t happen. “I haven’t seen you in forever,” he said quietly. “It’s been what, ten years?”
Yuri nodded very slowly, “yep.” The word was almost inaudible.
No words were shared for what felt like forever, and neither made the first move to leave, then finally Otabek forced himself to continue to carry the conversation. “What’s … how’s … life, been – for you?”
Jesus Christ.
Yuri slowly brought his drink up to his lips and taking a sip. He didn’t lower his hand, his words slightly muffling his sounds. “Fine.” He took another drink, letting it linger in hopes Otabek would take the hint. He didn’t; he stood there still, as if he was waiting. “How about you?” he asked out of pure curtesy.
“Fine, too,” he replied. His voice died halfway through his sentence, and despite the loud music booming in the ballroom the only thing the two could hear was the same kind of ringing silence as one in a testing room.
Neither of them said anything, and Otabek continued to stare. Yuri shifted uncomfortably when he finished the drink, avoiding eye contact as he stared at a little spot on the ground by his shoes. Finally, after a solid minute that felt like a solid hour, Yuri opened his mouth to speak – to snap at his ex – before suddenly he heard Veruca’s voice.
“Papa,” she said softly. He looked over. There were tears in her eyes.
Instantly, Yuri’s entire demeanour changed, and he found himself on his knees to look at his little girl in the eyes and gently hold her shoulders. “What’s wrong, babydoll?” He asked in a gentle voice, “what happened?”
“I want to go home,” she cried.
“What happened?” Yuri asked again, a little softer once he remembered Otabek was still standing there.
“There’s a girl that keeps saying I talk funny and my dress looks ugly.”
This was exactly why Yuri remembered how much he hated other children. They were all evil – not a single bone of good in their bodies and the only thing they know how to do is echo all the wrong decisions their parents made before them. He hid his anger to Veruca; she had never seen him get angry, and he wasn’t going to let that change in front of his ex.
“What did I tell you to do to people that are mean to you?” He asked her, expecting a different answer than what he was going to get a couple seconds later.
“Punch them in the face,” Veruca replied.
Yuri repressed a small snort, but he pursed his lips together and nodded. He had said that to her once, so she wasn’t entirely wrong, but he didn’t mean it for this case. Then again, with Otabek there all will to look like a softer parent was out the window. “That’s right,” he said, standing up and gesturing his hand towards the small group of kids across the floor. “Punch her in the face.”
Instantly, Otabek turned to her, trying to intervene. “Sweetheart, you shouldn’t do that—”
“—Otabek.” Yuri snapped simply at him. The silence was cut. “She is not yours.”
There was a pause, where the little girl didn’t know what to do, looking between them. Finally, Yuri gestured to the group of kids again, and she nodded, running back as she balled her hand into a fist. If Yuri didn’t want her to hit someone before, he definitely wanted her to do it now after someone trying to override how he’s raising her.
“I’ll be damned if she’s defenceless,” Yuri looked back to Otabek, a sharp look in his eyes that pierced the sun. He spoke as if there was poison on his lips and a snakebite on each word. “If I’m teaching her to fight back against some insignificant brat, you will not intervene.”
Otabek went to speak, but he was suddenly caught off guard by a little girl wailing right next to him. “Papa,” she said, clearly more distraught than Veruca was. She was holding her face – her nose was bleeding. She didn’t even need to say anything before Yuri started laughing to himself; it was sweet, sickening irony.
Otabek gave him a look, and Yuri’s smile did not falter. With a sigh, Otabek turned back to his daughter and took a napkin off the table to tend to her nose. “Did somebody hit you?” He asked, already knowing the answer.
She nodded frantically, pointing towards Veruca who was staring at the three of them with fear in her eyes. Yuri and her made eye contact, and he waved it off. She sighed in relief – she was being tattled on, but she wasn’t in trouble.
“Why did she hit you?” He asked, already knowing the answer.
“I don’t know,” she said, her face wet with tears and snot. “I just said she was talking funny and her dress looked strange and then she hit me on my face! I think my nose is broken.”
“It’s not broken, I can tell you that already,” Otabek responded when after some wiping and a little bit of pressure the blood was already gone and over. “But you know, you can’t say things like that to people. That’s mean and it could hurt someone’s feelings.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt her feelings!” She cried, already defensive that she did nothing wrong. She looked no older than six, and she was already just like her father.
Her father spoke over her. “I know you didn’t,” he said. “But it’s wrong, okay? Just because it doesn’t hurt you doesn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt somebody else.”
“Maybe you should practice what you preach, asshole,” Yuri muttered. Otabek gave him a desperate, almost apologetically hurtful look, but Yuri just shrugged in response to that. He looked to the brat. “If you didn’t mean to hurt her then why don’t you apologise to her?”
“Yura—” Otabek began, about to make Yuri eat his own words from before, but Yuri was quick to shut that shit down.
“—Don’t fucking call me that.”
The two stared each other, the green eyes that once carried so much strength and flame had since dulled away into a coldness that couldn’t be cracked. Otabek took a deep breath, realising just how clearly drawn the boundary was, before he just simply nodded and looked back to his daughter. “He’s right, you know. You should apologise.”
Yuri turned back to the crowd of kids, noticing Veruca had already moved on to playing with others, but he called for her anyway. Obediently, she arrived and talked to him very sweetly, “yes, Papa?”
“Your bully has something to say to you,” Yuri gently pulled her to be in front of him and he held onto her shoulders as he looked at the Altins. Otabek went to speak again to defend the blatant name-calling of his daughter, but his daughter was quick to act.
“I’m sorry for being mean to you,” Aisha said, looking down at the ground sheepishly.
“That’s okay,” Veruca said. “I got you good, so I feel better.”
“Now,” Otabek started to speak to Veruca. “Why don’t you apologise to—”
“Otabek,” Yuri snapped again. “She is not yours.” He looked down, already irritated at his god damn bossiness. It always put him into uncomfortable situations and got on his damn nerves. When he looked down, he smiled warmly at Veruca and pat her shoulders, “that’s all I needed you here for babydoll. You can go play now.”
Veruca smiled and nodded and pulled off of Yuri’s grasp and went to go play with the other kids, but stopped. She turned back and looked at the sadness on Aisha’s face before simply extending her hand out to the younger girl. “Aren’t you coming to play?”
Aisha smiled, then took her hand and nodded, running off to go play with her new friend. There was a moment, where the two boys didn’t speak to each other, before Otabek turned to Yuri and once again started to judge his parenting. “She should have apologised.”
“She was completely fine,” Yuri said coolly, not looking at him.
“She punched my daughter in the face.”
“Well, she deserved it,” Yuri said simply. “Your daughter needs to learn that her actions have consequences, and I will not make Veruca apologise for sticking up for herself.” He turned to face him and narrowed his eyes, his voice condescending. “I teach her to have a spine.”
Otabek groaned. “Yuri, for Christ’s sake—”
“—Lecture me all you want, but I’m raising Veruca how I see fit. Your opinion means nothing to me,” he lied. He believed. Otabek paused, taking a deep breath before just giving up on the subject altogether.
“I know you’re still upset—”
“—upset is an awfully fucking gentle word,” Yuri said sharply, turning back to Otabek. “I think hurt is the word you’re looking for. I’m still hurt.”
For Otabek, that hurt just as much, if not more, than what happened ten years ago. He thought about his next words carefully, knowing that after this Yuri would probably just throw his hands up and leave. He had to make sure that his next words, even if they were the last Yuri would hear, wouldn’t be something he’d wish he had said in the end. “You know I never meant what I said,” he said finally, softly. “I still lo—”
With that, Yuri turned to face him and threw his drink in Otabek’s face to shut him up. “I may be a lot of things,” he spoke darkly in a quiet voice. “But I am not stupid.” He didn’t want to believe that Otabek was remotely close to telling the truth. Not even for a second. Otabek wiped his eyes and looked at him, shocked and soaked with punch. Yuri’s gaze faltered, and for a moment, he wanted to cry. He wanted to take Otabek into his arms and wipe away everything he had just done, but then he remembered, and he decided otherwise.
Looking back to the children, Yuri called for Veruca. When she arrived, Yuri made sure that his last words to Otabek would be to hurt. “Get your coat on,” he said to her. “I refuse to let you be hurt by an Altin.”
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VERUCA’S SURPRISE:
Ice cream and a snowball fight.
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As Veruca grew, Yuri learned to love cold things. It’s not that he hated them entirely before, but there was just a certain bitterness about the cold that would keep him uncomfortable throughout the entire day. But, as Veruca grew, she brought warmth to the cold. She turned jagged ice into a powdery snow – she turned the tolerable into wonderful – and she didn’t even know it.
And Yuri loved her. He loved her with every ounce of his being and he would do his damnedest to make sure that he wouldn’t turn into his mother. He refused to be.
“Papa, am I going to see Aisha again?” Veruca asked, taking off her shoes when they walked into their small home.
“No,” Yuri said very simply, very adamantly. The girl didn’t question, but it was clear that she wanted to know why and was hurt by the news. He didn’t want to say the harsh truth that the spoiled brat has probably forgotten all about Veruca anyway. He glanced down at her, noticing the hurt on her face and asked, “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” she said with a lacklustre shrug. “I just thought I made a friend.”
Yuri felt a pang in his heart. He realised that he was too caught up in his own – albeit, slightly selfish – protective intentions that he didn’t notice that she now was back to having no friends in her life once more. “Well,” Yuri thought quietly to her, “I’m your friend.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Veruca mumbled, before moping to her bedroom and slumping into her bed. Yuri walked in, carefully helping her get into her nightgown and tucked into bed.
As he kissed her forehead, he told her one simple thing that she could still quote in her twenties: “As long as I’m alive, I will always make sure nobody will ever hurt you.”
They said their I love yous. They said their goodnights. And after turning off the bedroom light, Yuri was alone.
There’s a certain kind of heaviness to warmth – particularly and specifically in the weight of one’s own body – and one that Yuri was all too familiar with. He took a deep breath, not opening his eyes and placing his hand gently on Otabek’s arm, tucking his back against Otabek’s chest and focusing his attention on feeling his thumb gently stroke his bare shoulder.
It was the first night in their new apartment, and neither of them could sleep.
“Tell me if I’m suffocating you,” Otabek whispered softly. There was an anxiousness in his tone, as if Yuri would shatter into little glass pieces if he squeezed too hard.
Yuri smirked, pretending to gag and mustering the best out-of-breath-voice he could muster. “Choking,” he wheezed, trying not to laugh. “Can’t breathe.”
Otabek just chuckled squeezing him tighter and tighter until he heard a genuine reaction out of his fiancé (“Jesus Christ, Otabek!”), before he finally loosened his grip and kissed his cheek. “I can’t believe we made it,” he sighed softly.
“I can,” Yuri smiled. He opened his eyes and turned around, facing him and kissing the top of his forehead. “It’s where we’re meant to be.”
Otabek pulled him close, nuzzling his face into the crook of Yuri’s neck and closing his eyes again. They whisper some soft words, before their voices fade away and they finally find some rest.
Yuri woke with a start in the dead of night; thunder crackled in the sky as his room turned white from the lightning. He quickly sat up – not even noticing now that the room is different than what he saw – expecting to see Otabek there with a flutter in his heart, but then there was nothing. He brought his hand up through his hair, remembering how short he has it now, and then he remembered it all.
With a deep, heavy breath, Yuri laid back down, staring at the ceiling.
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ONCE AGAIN:
He felt like a ghost in his own skin.
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