Chapter Text
“Got any spare change?”
The words made Yuri startle. “No, sorry,” he said automatically. He was already half-way past the man, heading for the apartment block door, before he realised that he did have some spare coins and he paused, backtracking, as he dug around in his pockets.
The man, dark-haired under his hood with heavy, serious brows, looked up in faint surprise when Yuri crouched to drop a couple of pounds into his cup.
“Ta,” he said with a soft, thick accent, looking at Yuri. Yuri brushed his hair out of his eyes to nod awkwardly before heading back towards the door, fumbling with his keys to head inside.
*
The weather was closing in and Yuri saw the dark-haired man huddled under the porch of the concrete apartment block more frequently as the nights got darker. He tried to give him a few pounds whenever their paths collided and the man seemed to recognise Yuri, always thanking him with that grave expression.
“Fucking vagrant, clear off!”
Yuri looked up sharply from where he’d had his nose buried in his scarf and saw one of the apartment tenants, a man Yuri didn’t recognise, gesturing and shouting at the dark-haired man on the floor, who was backing up, gathering his things.
“Go back to your own fucking country,” the tenant added in a snarl and shoved the man hard in the ribs with his boot, knocking him backwards and causing him to wheeze in shock, turning to look incredulously at the tenant who had kicked him.
“Hey!” Yuri yelled and rushed over, though he was wary of the icy ground.
“What?” the tenant snapped. The man on the ground was grabbing his backpack and, with his mouth set in a hard, angry line, backing up.
“He was leaving, you didn’t have to fucking kick him,” Yuri snapped.
The tenant glared at him as the homeless guy walked away, meeting Yuri’s gaze briefly to give him a nod before he disappeared around a corner, shoulders hunched against the cold. Yuri frowned after him unhappily.
“Don’t know what you’re talking ‘bout,” the tenant muttered, and disappeared into the building, slamming the door behind him and leaving Yuri to find his keys. Yuri shook his head in private disgust.
“Fucking people,” he grumbled.
*
Yuri came out of the building in a rush, late for work, only to pause at the sound of a heavy, hacking coughing. Taking a few steps, he saw the dark-eyed man hunched down by the wall, mostly out of sight, and Yuri dug out a fiver with a concerned frown.
“Sounds bad,” he said, when the man’s coughing had eased a little.
The man shrugged, looking tired and pale. He was shivering and only nodded silently when Yuri pushed the note into his cup. Yuri fiddled with the strap off his backpack, glancing towards the train station. He was late for work and yet-
“I’ll be back,” he muttered, and unlocked the apartment door again to head quickly up the stairs to the second floor. He rummaged through the back of his closet, stilling when his hands fell on an old waterproof. His grandfather’s. He touched the sleeve reverently for a moment before he slid it off the coat hanger and headed back downstairs again with the coat and a spare blanket bunched in his arms. His grandfather wouldn’t have wanted his clothes to be left in a cupboard when there was someone sat out in the cold who needed them. “These any good?” Yuri offered when he returned, slightly out of breath.
The man looked up at him blankly for a second. His scarf was pulled up over his nose and he tugged it hesitantly down as he looked at what Yuri was offering.
“Thanks,” he croaked, his voice sounding awful, reaching up to accept them and Yuri gladly passed them down.
“S’alright,” he said. “Hope you feel better." The man nodded silently, watching Yuri and Yuri shrugged before checking his watch and grimacing. “Gotta go,” he said and the man nodded. “I’m Yuri,” Yuri offered, as he was leaving.
There was a pause and he started heading off, not expecting an answer. “Otabek,” he heard, the voice rough and he glanced back over his shoulder to quirk a smile before he hurried to try to catch his train.
*
The homeless man, Otabek, didn’t seem to be getting any better, but was coughing on the few times that Yuri saw him. Yuri didn’t know where else the man went, but he found himself chewing his lip as the weather worsened further and he didn’t see Otabek sat by the apartment building wall.
“You want me to make you some tea?” Yuri said, relief blossoming in his chest when he came back from work to see Otabek there, even as he grimaced in sympathy at the awful, grating cough Otabek had had for at least a couple of weeks now.
“’m okay,” Otabek said quietly, even though he looked awful. Yuri was relieved to see that Otabek was wearing the waterproof Yuri had given him, and that the blanket was bunched around his hips.
“How about soup?” Yuri tried. He’d been planning this for a couple of days, building himself up to it, and he hoped that Otabek wouldn’t refuse. It pained Yuri to hear the man’s awful coughing and he was scared that he’d come down one morning and Otabek wouldn’t look up to meet his eyes.
Otabek frowned slightly, before shrugging. “Okay,” he said and Yuri smiled in relief.
“Okay,” he said softly back and headed up to his apartment, humming a tune that his grandfather used to as he warmed some soup on the stove and made up a little bread and butter, too.
He put the soup into a plastic container and took them down the stairs, frowning at the sound of Otabek’s rough, exhausted coughing.
“Here you are,” Yuri murmured, coming over and crouching down to offer the container to him, which Otabek accepted with gloved hands.
“Thanks,” he said, meeting Yuri’s eyes soberly, looking up from under his brows. Yuri wondered briefly what Otabek would look like without the rough, dark scruff he had growing on his jaw and then flushed and turned away. Otabek had a way of looking at Yuri that made him want to duck his head like a teenager and it was totally inappropriate.
“Yeah,” Yuri offered the bread and butter that he’d wrapped in tinfoil before getting to his feet, running a hand through his too-long hair. “Sure.” He shivered at the chill in the air and turned to go back inside, glancing back once to find Otabek staring after him with those depthless eyes. Yuri swallowed and slipped back into the warmth of the apartment block, feeling guilty and faintly unsettled.
*
It became a routine over the following days that Yuri brought Otabek hot tea in the mornings and soup in the evenings, when Otabek was there. He wasn’t always. His cough didn’t seem to improve and Yuri found himself staring into space while he was meant to be working, looking out at the icy weather and hoping that Otabek was somewhere warm.
“Hey,” Yuri said, balancing soup and bread in one hand and a mug of tea in the other, which Otabek left in the corner of the porch when he was done.
Otabek didn’t immediately respond and Yuri assumed that he was dozing. He walked over until he was standing in front of Otabek but the sound of his footsteps didn’t stir Otabek. “Otabek?” Yuri said, when Otabek still didn’t move. “Otabek?”
A terrible pang of fear shot through Yuri and his hand clenched so suddenly around the soup that he almost dropped it. “Otabek?” he said, panicked, and he crouched quickly to shove the bowl and mug onto the frost-hard ground as he reached out for Otabek’s shoulder. “Wake up,” Yuri said, half-demanding and half-pleading. He could only see Otabek’s closed eyes and forehead above his scarf, and fuck fuck fuck, he couldn’t see him breathing.
God please no, Yuri thought.