Archive of Our Own ^beta

There were few like him, and how they came to be, he didn’t know.

Victor didn’t even know how he came to be.

He was immortal, and had already lived long enough to forget if he’d even had a childhood at all, or even a family that once loved him. He couldn’t even remember his first day of definite consciousness, though he knew it had been at least three centuries ago.

Victor knew he had been around long before electricity had been discovered. He’d been alive when the large metropolises of the modern day had been little more than small settlements. He’d seen the world change again and again with every new invention, and had forced himself to adapt to the ever changing world around him.

Because he never died, he found it hard to get attached to people. What was a lifelong love for a mortal human was nothing more than a mild fling for one with eternal life; a slight blip before they died and he had to continue on.

On paper, an immortal life sounded great. An eternity to explore the world, do what you had always desired, achieve all your goals, all while remaining young and fit. Victor had thought so at one point, when he’d first realized he didn’t age. He could do everything he wanted in life, and he could take all the time he wanted to do it.

He’d finished his list in fifty years. There had been a few new additions, but those were usually completed within a couple months, a year tops. Aside from that, he simply existed.

There were a few others like him–immortal, never aging–and most were completely bored out of their minds.

He’d met Christophe first, and they’d hit it off immediately.

There had been a time maybe two hundred years ago when they had both decided that they’d had enough of their immortal lives. They had wondered what the extent was of their immortality was, how much they had to push their bodies before they gave in. It started with them trying to drown themselves, but other than coughing their throats raw from choking on salt water, they were physically fine. That led to jumping from cliffs, attempting to bleed out, contracting illnesses that were more often than not lethal at the time.

Nothing worked. They had both lived through every attempt unscathed, save maybe a scratch or two, or receiving a slight cold from diseases.

And so, they wandered. Sometimes together, sometimes apart. It became easier to meet up when modern technology brought the inventions of the internet and cell phones into existence, and they could talk to each other at any time, no matter how far apart they were.

Days were nothing, nor were weeks, months, or even years. They all passed in the blink of an eye.

Until, that is, Victor took one fateful trip to Japan…

~`~

“You’re sure about this place, Chris?” Victor asked, cell phone pressed to his ear.

“Of course, Victor. It has the absolute best hot springs in the world. And you know I’ve been to them all.” Victor could hear the grin in his friend’s voice. “Besides, you remember that little Japanese boy from two decades ago.”

They’d been alive for so long that two decades was nothing to them. They knew other immortal people like them who had only been alive for a few decades, people who they still didn’t know how they came to be. Victor could barely remember when a decade had still been a significant amount of time.

So much and so little had happened over the last two decades simultaneously that it was nearly impossible to remember one person he interacted with once on some random early summer day.

But the Japanese boy in question was one that Victor didn’t think he’d ever forget. He remembered him as though it had happened just a couple days ago.

He’d been in Japan then too, at a beach not far from the inn he stood before now. The waves had been rough that day, a brisk breeze coming off of them despite the almost cloudless sky, carrying salt and the scent of seaweed. Victor still couldn't figure out why parents had let their children play in the rough water. Victor supposed that he wasn’t one to talk down on the parents. He wasn’t a parent. The kids weren’t his responsibility. It wouldn’t be his fault if one of them got hurt.

He pulled the hair tie from the end of his braid, letting his long silver hair fall free. Half of it fell over his shoulders and blew in his face, but he just went about setting up his beach chair and umbrella.

As soon as he turned to attend to his towel and chair pillow, a very short someone bumped into the backs of his legs. He turned to find a young boy, maybe four or five years old, sprawled out across the sand. His blue hat had fallen off his head, revealing dark, inky hair. His eyes were wide and brown as they took in the taller man. Victor found a warmth in them, one he’d never found in anyone else’s before.

There was a lime-green pail and a mid-blue shovel in the sand too. The boy, once regaining his bearings, rushed to put his hat back on and gather his things. “S-sorry, sir,” he stuttered out in careful and accented English, holding his head down.

Victor smiled, readjusting the hat on his head so it didn’t block the boy’s vision and brushing off some of the sand. “There you go, little one. Now you can see where you’re going.”

The boy giggled, taking off again as he shouted, “thank you, sir!”

Normally, Victor would have glared after the child in that type of circumstance and made snide remarks to himself about how the parents should have paid more attention to their brat.

But there was something about this brat that Victor found oddly captivating, like there was some sort of string drawing his eyes to the child every time he looked up.

The boy looked so happy, and Victor found the smile plastered on his face contagious. It was new to him, seeing someone enjoying life, even if it was a young child who didn’t know the hardships that came with growing up.

Victor kept his book to his side when he sat down, eyes locked on the boy, who had set up a little spot of his own not far away.

Unlike most children, he kept to himself and was careful around the ocean, only going into the water just enough to fill his bucket so he could dampen the sand enough to make sandcastles. Victor found it adorable that he would examine the moisture content of the sand, mixing in more dry sand until he deemed it perfect to pack into his bucket.

Victor couldn’t help the smile that played across his face. He truly seemed like a sweet boy, overly excited about the prospect of a hot, sunny day at the beach.

Victor watched on as the boy built five little towers, scrawling words next to each one before digging what looked like a moat around all of them. After taking a step back to admire his work, the boy nodded and took off toward the ocean with his bucket again. He collected more water than he had before, awkwardly carrying the bucket back to his castles to try to fill his moat. Unfortunately for him, as soon as he left to get more, the water soaked into the ground, rendering his efforts pointless.

The boy never gave up, though. He had to be given that.

Victor thought it was a good way to tire him out, at least. Tired children were usually easier to put to bed, right? The logic worked out in his head.

It was on the boy’s seventh or eighth trip that the young child got Victor’s heart pounding.

To get back to the shore and carry the heavy bucket to his castles, the boy had to hold the handle of his bucket up with his hands tucked under his chin, elbows out like a T. Victor had to admire his stamina.

On this trip, however, he was clearly getting tired. He couldn’t lift the bucket as high as he had in previous trips, and wound up tripping on it, falling into the water. The boy was just over waist deep, but when he tried to get up, another wave knocked him off balance, and pulled him under the water’s surface.

Victor couldn’t bear the thought of that boy getting hurt out there. He sprang from his chair, not feeling a hint of discouragement, like he’d read protagonists felt in books he'd enjoyed over the years. No, he knew he could save this boy. He pulled his tank top off and tossed it to the sand before taking off down the beach toward the ocean without bothering with his flip flops. They only would have gotten in the way and kicked sand everywhere. He didn’t feel the heat underfoot anyways, only the shift of the white-gold grains as he ran.

When he finally got to the water, he made his way to the boy, desperation leaking into his chest when he heard the boy’s shouts. A small part of his brain sighed in relief that no one else had tried to save him yet; no one should have to put their life at risk, and Victor’s only priority was the boy. It’s not like his life was in any danger anyways.

The boy was being drawn out deeper, and Victor imagined that the boy couldn’t touch the ocean floor anymore if he tried. He had to be so brave for not freezing up in fear of drowning, for not letting the water take him so easily. The boy, Victor knew, was a fighter. If Victor was in his place, he wasn’t sure he’d be fighting so hard to live.

Victor, being much taller than the boy, was able to pull the flailing child into his chest and from the sea’s clutches fairly easily. Victor was in just over his navel when he pulled the boy from the water, cradling him so only his toes dangled in the sea. Victor hurried to the shore the best he could, only stopping to brace himself against the harsh waves, not wanting to stumble and drop the boy.

He ignored the ends of his hair dripping water down his legs. He was more focused on the boy choking in his arms. He laid the boy out on the sand, giving him a few chest compressions to help clear his chest of the water he’d swallowed. The boy looked up at him, eyes wet with tears as water Victor had forced from his lungs dribbled down his chin.

“Oh my–Yuuri!” a short woman shouted, running down the beach with a man slightly taller than her and a young girl trailing behind them.

Victor stepped back, breathing turning ragged as he let the family see their son. The mother held him, cooing softly to her child, but the boy kept his gaze on Victor. The father followed his son’s gaze, smiling at the foreign man.

“Thank you so much for saving our Yuuri,” he said, bowing slightly. “Please, come stay at our onsen any time you want, on us.”

“I couldn’t. I just did what anyone else would have,” Victor replied.

“I insist.”

Victor had yet to take them up on the offer.

“Do you think they’d still give me that free stay?” Victor asked with a small chuckle, returning from his reverie.

Chris just laughed. “I’m sure you could try.”

“Do you think this is a good idea, Chris? I want to see that boy again, see what became of him, but… should I really go barging into their lives like this?” Victor, for once, was uncertain. What if the boy hadn’t actually lived? What if he’d ended up dying later from a complication, or if Victor’s presence alone would bring up bad memories?

“Worst case scenario, you claim to be your own son, and your daddy told you about what happened. Or he didn’t, and you act dumb about it. Dealer’s choice, really,” Chris replied.

Victor knew he’d need some kind of story for still looking so young. He could pass for twenty-four, and even younger when his hair was long, like it had been last time he was there. He’d cut it since then, changing to a short, more mature style. With his hair short, it was still a stretch to claim almost anything older than thirty. Claiming forty-three would be a tough one, pretty much impossible. He could try to rework their memories a bit, try to convince them that he’d been in his late teens back then, but he’d still be claiming that he was in his mid to late thirties. He supposed facial creams were working wonders in the modern era, but they weren’t miracle workers! Could that be enough to convince…

“Ah, sir?”

Victor blinked a couple times, eyes settling on the man in front of him. He was definitely a Japanese native, likely in his early to mid twenties, and was carrying shopping bags full of groceries. His messy black hair fell in his eyes, which sat behind a pair of blue-rimmed glasses. His brown eyes were instantly familiar, filled with a warmth he’d only seen twenty years prior.

“Do you need help? Directions, maybe?” he asked in English, his voice only slightly accented.

“Chris, I’ll have to call you back,” Victor murmured, hanging up his phone before he could hear his friend’s reply.

“Where are you trying to go?” the Japanese man asked, clearly ready to offer his assistance. Maybe it was because Victor looked foreign? Well, he did consider himself Russian, as he had the accent and name to back it up, even if his accent had been coloured slightly by all his years of travelling. It was also the first place he remembered being at the beginning of his existence. That was beside the point, though. He knew many countries like the back of his hand, and knew the basics of languages he didn’t even use often.

“Oh, right here, actually. I heard that this onsen is the best in the world,” Victor replied with a grin.

The other man laughed. “Well, I may be biased, because my family owns it, but I would have to agree.”

Victor had to will his heart to keep beating, hiding it with a grin. His family owned the onsen… that meant that this was definitely Katsuki Yuuri, the boy he’d rescued from the ocean. At least the boy seemed to have grown into a good person so far.

“The person you were on the phone with, were you meeting up with them?” the man asked, leading Victor to the door and inside.

“No, no. He’s in Europe. He was just giving me a recommendation for where to stay,” Victor replied. “Yu-Topia Katsuki has come to me highly recommended. He’s boasted about this place forever.”

The man blushed a bit, a small smile on his face as he closed the door behind Victor. “Mom! Dad! I’m home! And we have a guest!” Yuuri called, crossing the lobby before turning back to Victor. “My dad should be here in a minute. He’ll be able to check you in.” He smiled, turning to make his way into the kitchen so he could drop off the groceries.

Victor wandered the lobby, looking at family photos of the local landscape and even more of the Katsukis through the years; family photos in front of the inn, a picture of a younger Yuuri with a little brown poodle, an even younger Yuuri with his older sister at the beach, a book held open in Yuuri’s hands, his sister holding up two fingers in a peace sign, a grin across both of their faces.

“Sorry about the wait. Can I get your…” The man coming down the stairs froze when he looked up from his papers and saw Victor, dropping his pen to the floor. Victor turned to look at him. He was the same man from that day on the beach, the boy’s father, only twenty years older. Silver was woven into his black hair, and there were creases on his face from smiling and laughing that didn't completely smooth away. He wore a name tag, which read Toshiya, though he didn’t need the name tag to know his name. “Are you…?”

“Am I… who?” Victor asked after the man paused, wandering closer.

Toshiya shook his head. “There was a young man, years ago, who looked just like you, only with long hair. He… he saved my son’s life,” Toshiya whispered.

Victor picked up the pen, and held it out for the older man to take, which he did. “I believe that was my father. He used to enjoy coming to Japan, and did so frequently. He always stepped in to help when he could,” Victor said, the lie forming easily. His ‘father’ was sick, fragile, a private man who lived with only his private nurse. It wasn’t the first time he’d come up with a lie about his background, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last.

“Well, thank your father for me and my family again, from the bottom of our hearts. Without him, I’m not sure my son would be here today.” Toshiya looked distant, like for a moment, he was reliving that day. The feelings of complete helplessness as a stranger saved his son. The fear that the young boy wouldn’t make it.

“I’ll be sure to pass the message along.” Victor smiled. Message received.

“Thank you.” Toshiya smiled back, making his way to the check in desk. He wrote a few notes on a piece of paper before looking up at the foreign man again. A new book was out, flipped to a middle page. “Do you have a reservation?”

“I must apologize; I don’t. Is there anything available, even just for one night? I can pay whatever fee,” Victor offered.

“Nonsense. I just need a name, some personal information, some ID, and a means to pay,” Toshiya said, pen to the paper as he eagerly awaited the name of the supposed son of the man who saved his son.

“Victor Nikiforov,” Victor said. It was the closest to his real name he could get. It was the name he’d had when his existence started, the name that had been in his head, that he’d kept secret from most people. Usually, he kept his first name, and gave a fake, more often than not Russian, last name, but this man deserved to know his full name, even if he didn’t know that it really was him that saved the young boy.

Toshiya wrote him in, checked his ID, and rang through his credit card. Once everything checked out, the older-looking man led Victor up the stairs and through the building toward his room.

The first thing Victor noticed was that they entered a wing that seemed more personal in its décor. There were more family photos, including duplicates from the lobby, and expensive-looking lamps–or at least lamps that the family likely didn’t want broken–and a variety of things most people wouldn’t trust to careless guests.

“This is our family’s wing. I hope you don’t mind a room here. They’re nicer than the other guest rooms. We only let select guests here, but because your father saved my son, I wanted to show you our gratitude,” Toshiya said, motioning to one door.

“Thank you, Katsuki-san,” Victor murmured. He’d done his research on his way to Japan, and not just on the inn, but on the family as well. Yu-Topia Katsuki was owned by Katsuki Hiroko and Toshiya, a married couple who had inherited the inn from the latter’s parents. Their adult children, Mari and Yuuri, lived at the inn too, and helped with the running and maintenance of the onsen.

“Please, just call me Toshiya,” The Japanese man murmured. “There’s a set of onsen robes in the room, if you’d like to enjoy a soak in the hot springs. I can get Yuuri to bring some towels down for you in a bit.”

Victor smiled. “Thank you again, Toshiya. I can’t wait to try them.”

Toshiya dipped his head in respect before leaving him to settle into his room and change. When he felt ready, Victor found his way down to the hot springs.

Victor picked a secluded pool, away from all the others in use, so he could bathe in private. He took off the loose robes, folding them neatly before stepping into the steaming water. The warmth seeped into the muscles in his back, neck, and shoulders, relaxing his whole body.

He let out a deep sigh, wondering briefly if he’d made a mistake in returning. He’d never returned to the same place so soon before, even if it had been twenty years. He especially didn’t return so soon after impacting lives in such a significant way. His personal rule of thumb was to stay away for at least a mortal’s lifetime, sometimes a century to be on the safe side.

But when he saw Yuuri earlier that day, he couldn’t help but know he’d made the right decision. He wanted to get to know the boy he’d saved, to find out what he was doing with the extra time Victor had given him.

The door to the inn opened, and Yuuri entered. He had a basket of towels on his hip, handing them out to the other guests and taking the used ones he came across. Yuuri finished at Victor’s pool, setting his basket on the ground next to Victor and arranging a couple towels for Victor beside the pool. Victor noted that Yuuri kept his distance from the pool, his eyes constantly flicking to the water, as though to make sure it wasn’t plotting against him.

“Don’t like the water?” Victor murmured. As a child, Yuuri had looked like he loved the water.

“Not really. It’s brought me anxiety since I was young,” Yuuri mumbled, head down as he picked at the skin around his thumbnail. “Thank your father for me personally? Please? If it wasn’t for him, I doubt I would even be here today. I might be afraid to drown, but I’d rather be alive and fear the water than have drowned and never gotten a chance to live.”

“How do you know who I am?” Victor asked, his pale eyebrows pulling down.

Yuuri smiled. “My dad told me just before sending me out here. I don’t remember it well, but you did look familiar when we were outside. You must look just like your father.”

“We’ve been mistaken for brothers before. Multiple times, in fact. I think it was the silver hair,” Victor chuckled, pushing his wet fingers through his dry hair.

“Well, tell him that I’m grateful he was there that day,” Yuuri murmured.

“Believe me, Yuuri. He already knows.” Victor’s face straightened. If he hadn’t been there that day, this beautiful man before him likely wouldn’t be there, and his family would have been broken apart. Would they have closed the onsen in their grief? Or to cover the costs of burying their son?

“Are you close to your dad?” Yuuri asked.

Victor shrugged, sinking down so his shoulders were under the water. “We used to be, but I haven’t seen him in a while. It… it feels like it’s been centuries.”

Yuuri let a quick, soft breath out of his nose, his lips quirking up. “Yeah, I kinda know how you feel. I tried studying abroad briefly, but I got really homesick so I came home after a couple semesters. It had felt like forever since I’d seen my family.”

Victor smiled sadly, appreciating how Yuuri was trying to empathize with him. Victor felt bad for lying to him, wanting to tell him that he had likely never had a father, never mind a family.

“So, where are you from?” Yuuri asked, clasping his hands in his lap. He stole a glance at Victor when he thought the older man wasn’t looking, but mostly kept his eyes averted.

“Russia originally, though I haven’t been back there in years. I travel a lot, and haven’t had the chance to settle in one place for very long.” Victor sighed, standing up in the pool, which was just a little deeper than his knees. “Enough about me. Why don’t we go get something to eat? I want to get to know you too, Yuuri.”

Yuuri froze, cheeks brightening before he scrambled backward. “oh, n-no, th-that’s not nessecar–ah!” Yuuri screamed as he fell back into the spring across from Victor’s. The man thrashed in the water, and Victor rushed out of his spring to pull Yuuri from his own.

“It’s a good thing I’m always around when you fall in water,” Victor told him, pausing with a towel half extended to Yuuri when he realized what he’d said.

Yuuri stared up at Victor, water drops clinging to the lenses of his glasses. “You… you what? Did you–you saved me… the first time… but–but your father…”

“I’m sorry, Yuuri, but I can’t say.” Victor wrapped a towel around his waist, and all but sprinted back up to his room, leaving the spare towel behind for a bewildered Yuuri.

~`~

“So what you’re telling me is that you just exposed yourself?” Chris said, amusement pulling at the corner of his lips. “And in more ways than just one.”

Victor groaned, running a hand over his face. “You’ve seen him, Chris! He’s just so beautiful! I wasn’t even thinking when I said it. What do I do now?”

“It’s up to you. You dug your own grave, so now you have to lay in it. You know telling others only creates a mess, but if you have to tell him what we are, then so be it. This is your life to toy with. You can do whatever you want. Just don’t drag the rest of us down with you,” Chris’s voice held a warning Victor had long grown accustomed to.

As such, Victor rolled his eyes. “Of course. You know I could never put any of you in danger.”

“I know, Vic. Believe me, I know,” Chris murmured.

Victor’s door slid open a crack, and Yuuri peeked in, looking at Victor questioningly.

“Sorry, Chris. I have to go again,” Victor murmured.

“If you keep hanging up on me like this, I’m going to start thinking you don’t actually want to talk to me.” Chris had a pout in his voice that made Victor roll his eyes.

“I called you, Christophe.” And with that, Victor hung up, tossing his phone to the end of his bed before looking back to Yuuri. “Did you want something?”

“My mother made katsudon. Come down to the dining room if you want to eat,” Yuuri said before ducking out again and shutting the door.

Victor stretched, pulling a black sweater on over his T-shirt, and leaving the room.

He couldn’t deny he was hungry.

Just outside his door, he found a woman a few years older than Yuuri leaning against the wall, waiting for him. Her short hair was bleached at the ends and held out of her face by a bandana, showing off both of her piercing-lined ears. She wore a name tag on her red jinbei, and though it was in Japanese, he could read that her name was Mari, not that he needed it to know that. When she was done looking him over, she looked Victor in the eye, a look he met.

“You’re him,” she said. Had Yuuri already told her about his slip up? Was he wrong for even considering trusting him? “I don’t know how, but I know you’re him, the one that saved my brother’s life.” She turned before he had the chance to respond, and walked away, leaving Victor frozen in place.

How had he gotten himself into this mess?

He knew that if he was smart, he should leave without hesitation, even if it meant sneaking out the back, or even leaving some of his belongings behind. He knew he shouldn't stay, but he still found his legs taking him down to where the kitchen and dining room were. Where Yuuri was.

When he finally made it to the dining room, Yuuri’s mother, Hiroko, placed a steaming bowl in front of the guest. Yuuri was sitting across from him, already settled and eating.

The bowl before Victor held a generous serving of rice with a beautifully fried pork cutlet on top. There was egg, a slight scattering of finely chopped vegetables, and a golden sauce that Victor started salivating over instantly. Then the aroma of the pork hit his nose, and he felt like he was in heaven.

He lifted his chopsticks, his hold slightly rusty from not having used them in a few years, and took his first bite of the pork. His mouth filled with flavour, and he wondered how, in all his years and trips to Japan, he’d never had anything as amazing as Hiroko’s katsudon before. Why hadn’t he visited the onsen sooner?

“Vkusno!” Victor moaned, melting in his seat as he quickly took another mouthful.

“I’m glad you like it,” Yuuri said softly, a smile gracing his features. “It’s my favourite. My mom makes it the best.”

Victor nodded rapidly in agreement. “I don’t know how anyone could make it any better.”

They ate in a more comfortable silence, the only sounds being those of their chopsticks tapping against their bowls as they cleaned them out. Victor was almost sure his was clean enough to be used again immediately.

When they were finished eating, Hiroko swooped by to take their dishes, and Victor took the opportunity to speak his praise to her before she retreated back to the kitchen. Once she was gone, there was silence between them, though it was more awkward than before, now that they didn’t have anything to distract them.

Victor knew he couldn’t avoid the inevitable. “I know you must have questions, and I know what I said, but–”

“Was it you?” Yuuri asked quietly, looking Victor in the eye over the bright blue rims of his glasses. Anyone else would have looked stern or demanding, but Yuuri just held a curiousness and desperation to know the truth. He was too delicate, too innocent to be anything but soft and kind. “I don't want any more lies. Did you save me from drowning when I was a kid?”

Victor hesitated, considering saying no, before slowly nodding. “I did.”

“How? Why?” Yuuri whispered.

“More description, please? Fully formed sentences are much appreciated.” Victor grinned, trying to be teasing.

“You don’t look like twenty years have passed. You look like it’s been two weeks and a trip to the hairdresser,” Yuuri said. “And why me? Why save a stupid boy who was clumsy enough to fall into the water?”

One side of Victor’s mouth pulled up. “After you ran into me, I couldn’t help but watch you. It was like there was a string pulling my attention to you every time I looked up. You were so young, so happy, so full of life, and happy to be alive. And your sandcastles were beautiful, by the way.” Yuuri laughed at that before Victor continued. “And the years… they haven’t touched me because I don’t age.”

Yuuri looked at him long and hard. “How… how long have you been alive?”

Victor’s face fell as he let out a sigh. “You don’t want to know that, Yuuri.” No one wanted to know how old an immortal man was. Victor had been told by others that most people didn’t take the news well.

Yuuri slapped his phone down on the table before Victor. There was a photo on the screen, one Victor hadn’t seen in close to a hundred years of himself just behind Tzar Nicholas II. He had been as assistant in Russia at the time, in the last days of the Tzar. He’d been loyal, and as a result had gained some influence over Nicholas, but had been able to escape when matters had taken a turn for the worst. “And you don’t look much older than you do there either.” It’s not like he could deny how he looked. He hadn’t aged a day since long before that picture had been taken.

Victor knew he was found out. There was a low chance he would be able to convince Yuuri that not only did he look like his father, but that he was an exact replica of his great-grandfather. The face was undeniably his. “Yuuri…”

“I won’t tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about. I promise.” Yuuri held his gaze, and there was an affirmation in that look, and Victor knew Yuuri was speaking the truth. He wouldn’t tell anyone intentionally, no matter how tempting it would be, though there was no guarantee that he wouldn’t let it slip accidentally.

It’s not like Victor hadn’t spilled his secret already.

The older man slouched, hands clasped together in front of him. “I haven’t aged for as long as I can remember.”

“And how long is that?” Yuuri asked, voice softer. “You’re really good at dodging questions, by the way. I’ll give you that.”

Victor smiled faintly at that, his chest hitching slightly in a single chuckle. “I’ve been alive for at least a few hundred years.” Victor squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see Yuuri’s face when it twisted up in disgust. “I don’t know exactly how long I’ve lived. Sure, years were counted back then, but my earliest memories… I didn’t age then either. I don’t know how long I was alive before that. I don’t remember a childhood, or any of my teen years. As far as I know, I just appeared one day. I don’t know how, but I’m here somehow.”

Yuuri nodded along, showing a sympathetic smile. “I’m not going to judge you, Victor. It’s not your fault for being who you are.”

Victor smiled, eyes cracking open again. His heart slowed from its heavy beating, nervous for the Japanese man’s reaction. “Thank you, Yuuri. That means a lot to me.”

“That Chris you keep talking on the phone with, is he like you too?” Yuuri asked.

Victor chuckled. “I cannot confirm nor deny that, but I can say that there are more like me in the world. None of us know how it happens, how or why we become immortal, but we’re here anyways, if that makes any sense.”

Yuuri nodded. “You seem like a loyal friend, Victor. I can respect you protecting them.” Yuuri smiled, and Victor was almost certain that the whole room lit up because of it.

“When you live forever, Yuuri, you can’t rely on people with a regular mortal’s life span nearly as much as you can on those that live as long as you will. Nothing can kill me, and I find it to be more of a curse than a gift. I wouldn’t wish this life on my worst enemy.” And Victor had known and hated many people in his long lifetime. Not one of them, however, had he wanted to suffer as he had at times.

Yuuri reached out, a bit hesitantly at first, and put his hand on Victor’s across the table. “If you ever want to talk…” he trailed off, looking down. ”I'm here.”

“Why don’t we go for a walk?” Victor suggested, his lips quirking up.

Yuuri nodded, taking Victor’s hand more firmly as they stood. “Mom, we’re going out for a bit!”

Hiroko appeared at the kitchen door. “Alright, dear. Be home for dinner, okay?”

“I’ll make sure we’re home at a decent time.” Victor smiled as Yuuri pulled the taller man after him out of the onsen, starting down the road.

Not once on their walk did Yuuri let go of Victor’s hand. As they walked, Yuuri showing Victor the small seaside town through his perspective, they talked and traded stories from their lives. Never had Victor been able to tell a mortal about his travels before. Chris had lived with him through most of them and had been the cause of most of the rest. Georgi was always too busy chasing after some girl he’d have to leave in five or so years anyways, crying over the heartbreak that the last one was the one, and Yura never seemed to want to give Victor the time of day to hear about his travels anymore.

Yuuri had what seemed like infinite stories about his short stay in Detroit, and even more about traveling the world with his former roommate, a Thai boy named Phichit, who was also Yuuri’s best friend. Victor was glad Yuuri had such a great friend in his life, the same way he had Chris.

Victor ate dinner with Yuuri’s family when they got back, and Yuuri’s parents seemed to do nothing but tease their son, turning him into a stuttering, blushing mess.

Victor laughed at the boy next to him. “It’s okay, Yuuri. It’s sweet that they show their love this way.” He wrapped his arms around the younger man, laughing as he tried to comfort Yuuri. The whole time, Yuuri pushed on Victor’s chest as he complained, trying to get the affectionate older man off of him.

Yuuri helped his parents around the onsen after dinner, and Victor followed after him, offering his assistance. Yuuri declined at first, but reluctantly agreed when Victor kept persisting.

“But you’re a guest, Victor,” Yuuri argued, his protest coming out weak he proceeded to hand the basket of dirty onsen robes over to Victor.

“Da, but I like helping out.” Victor grinned, his mouth forming a heart shape. “I always have, as you know, so it’s no bother, really.”

“If you say so.” Yuuri sighed and rolled his eyes, as though he was unconvinced but knew that he wasn’t going to win the argument.

By the time Yuuri’s chores were done, Victor was ready to retire for the night. Yuuri walked him to his room, keeping his hands behind his back.

“Have a good night, Victor,” Yuuri said with a soft smile, his cheeks taking on a pink colour. He turned to walk away when Victor reached out and grabbed his hand.

“You want to sleep over tonight?” Victor offered, voice low.

Yuuri looked at Victor for a moment, a silent moment that lasted too long for Victor’s liking, before Yuuri nodded. The younger man turned a rosy shade of red as he followed Victor into his room.

~`~

Victor knew the risks he’d been taking when he decided to ask Yuuri out on a proper date later that week.

That had been ten years ago, and he never looked back on it with regret. Why would he when he got to wake up next to the most beautiful man he’d ever met every morning?

He knew he was risking an eternally broken heart, but he didn’t care. He’d fallen in love with Katsuki Yuuri, more so than he had with anyone else before. Yuuri made every day worth remembering, where before, the days had blurred together into weeks and months and years. They had passed like nothing.

Victor knew that Yuuri would die one day, and he’d be left alone in the world again. He didn’t know what he’d do when that happened, but he also knew that it was a ways off still. He hoped for fifty more years, five decades, half a century to love and be loved, and live the best life he could, and give Yuuri the best life possible. He didn’t want to dwell on the ending. It’s not like he could change it.

“Good morning, Vitya,” Yuuri murmured, rolling over to lay partly across Victor’s chest and reaching up to stroke his cheek.

Victor melted into the touch, nestling his face into Yuuri’s palm. The warm metal of their golden engagement rings glimmered in the morning sun. “Good morning, my Yuu-chan.” Victor wrapped his arms around his lover, pulling him closer. “Did you sleep well?”

“You know I always sleep well next to you.” Yuuri reached over and kissed him, lips soft as they tangled their legs together.

Victor indulged in Yuuri’s kisses before moving to get up. “I just need to make a quick run to the bathroom. I’ll be right back, lyubov moya.”

Yuuri stick out his lower lip, pouting as Victor got up and turning his face up for another kiss before letting the older man go.

Victor glanced at his reflection in the floor to ceiling wall mirror in their en-suite bathroom as he went, then did a double take. He leaned over the counter, sifting through the hair of his bangs until he found the single offending hair he was looking for. “Yuuri! Yuuri, come here! Right now!” he shouted, eyes wide.

Yuuri sauntered in lazily a minute later, obviously contemplating whether or not Victor’s excitement was worth prematurely leaving the warmth of their bed or not. He had one hand in his hair, the other up the front of his over-sized shirt, scratching an itch on his toned stomach. “What’s wrong, Vitya?” he asked, one of the shirt’s shoulders slipping down his arm. In his defense, it had originally been Victor’s shirt.

“I have a grey hair, Yuuri. A grey hair,” Victor said, showing his lover the grey hair in question.

Yuuri laughed before joining him, grabbing the sides of Victor’s head to turn it down and kiss his crown. “Vitya, they’re all grey hairs.”

Victor turned a glare on Yuuri, one he’d never turned on the man he loved so much before. “You know I’m a platinum blond, Yuuri. My hair is silver, not grey.” Victor sighed, looking back to his hair. “But this one’s lighter. A real grey hair, like all of yours.”

“I don’t have any grey hairs yet. And I didn’t think you got them at all.” Yuuri frowned, crossing his arms as he leaned his hip against the counter next to them. “I thought it came with the whole not aging thing.”

“I… I don’t,” Victor said slowly as he turned to Yuuri, dropping the hair back in place. “I mean, I haven’t before.”

“Is it possible… are you aging?” Yuuri asked, gripping at Victor’s arms.

“I shouldn’t be, but… but maybe I am,” Victor whispered. Looking back to his reflection, he could admit that his face had changed slightly in the years since he’d reunited with Yuuri. He’d assumed he simply looked happier, but when he really looked, he could see the lines around his eyes that didn’t quite smooth away the way they once had.

He was definitely getting older.

“Yuuri, I… I can’t believe this. I don’t know how, but… but I think I’m aging. I have to be.” Victor wrapped his arms around Yuuri, squeezing him tight. “We can actually spend the rest of our lives together. I won’t stay young while you grow old. We’ll grow old together.”

Yuuri threw his arms around Victor’s neck standing up on his toes to hold him close before pulling away a bit to hold their foreheads together. “We’ll grow old together,” He repeated, squeezing his eyes shut to hold back the tears that were already forming at the idea.

Victor nodded. Eyes wet as well as he pressed his lips to Yuuri’s.

Finally.

Finally, he could complete his long life, plan for a future that eventually would end, where he could be happy. He could spend it with the person he loved more than anything.

His long existence could finally have a happy ending.