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Yuuri wakes slowly with the sensation that he is being watched.
He smiles a little into his pillow. He knows this sensation, of his fiancé's patient gaze. If not his fiancé, then his dog. Despite partying late with his friends for his bachelor's party, Yuuri knows that Viktor snuck into his hotel room during the night. He remembers warm arms surrounding him, pulling him close, while Viktor murmured soft, loving Russian into his ear, just as drunk as him. Any moment now, he will get a kiss on his cheek, or a cold nose in his ear...
"Mr. Katsuki, it is time to rise for the day," says a familiar, beloved voice, but in such a polite tone that Yuuri's eyes fly open.
The first thing he sees is not his and Viktor's room in Yuutopia, but a much larger room in bright red accents touching expensive furniture. Beside his bed -- which is empty of fiancés or dogs -- stands Viktor in a neat suit, hands clasped behind his back. Perhaps none of this is as shocking as the fact that Viktor's hair is curly.
Yuuri sits up and gapes at him. The curls look resplendent and soft, falling against Viktor's brow in soft waves, perfectly styled to sweep out of his face. They look ever so soft, the same beautiful pale color as normal. Yet Yuuri has never seen Viktor with curly hair, even as a teenager. Viktor's hair has always been beautifully straight.
And still Viktor is watching him. He tilts his head slightly in question, the movement just as polite as his voice. He stands so far apart from Yuuri, and abruptly, Yuuri realizes that something is strange about his own body. He reaches down to his hand.
His finger is bare.
"Viktor?" Yuuri whispers.
"Yes, Mr. Katsuki?" Viktor asks promptly.
"What is going on? Where are we? Why is your hair like... that?" Yuuri asks, his voice growing more frantic. He doesn't understand what is going on.
Viktor only blinks. "It is eight o'clock in the morning, Sunday the third. You have nothing scheduled until your flight at six this evening. We are in your apartment at the top of Hotel Yuutopia in New York, and today we will fly to Tokyo for the board meeting taking place on the fifth. As for my hair, it is the same style I have worn every day since you hired me as your personal attendant. Is something the matter with it?"
Yuuri blinks at him, then blinks again to absorb the strange information. Board meeting? Personal attendant?
Nani the fuck.
Abruptly, he realizes it must be a joke, and relaxes. He did drink a lot last night, so it's very possible that he refused to wake up, and so Viktor must have snuck him into another hotel. He laughs. "Okay, very funny. Where's Makkachin?"
Something flickers across Viktor's eyes, and he pauses before answering. "Makkachin is at my parents' home. What is funny, Mr. Katsuki?"
"Your prank. It's very elaborate. You almost got me!" Yuuri smiles, but Viktor doesn't smile back.
"I'm afraid I don't understand, Mr. Katsuki."
Yuuri's lips curl in amusement. "Oh, is that the game we're playing? Okay, Mr. Nikiforov," he purrs and crawling to the edge of the bed, where Viktor stands. Viktor suddenly looks alarmed, as Yuuri sits up on his knees and wraps his arms around Viktor's neck, the blanket falling from his nude body. "Then, as my personal assistant, you should take care of me."
A beat passes, and Viktor's face turns bright red.
"Mr. Katsuki, I apologize, but this is very inappropriate," Viktor sputters, then quickly pulls Yuuri's arms down and tucks them against his side, before stepping away several paces. He looks flustered and unsure -- and suddenly, Yuuri wonders how he even thought this man was his fiancé. Viktor would never push him away, even in play.
He doesn't recognize this man.
"Viktor?" Yuuri says, in a very small voice. "I don't like this prank anymore. What's going on?"
To his horror, Viktor does not become himself again. The stranger before merely stares at him, his embarrassment slowly fading into worry.
"I believe you may be hungover from the party last night, Mr. Katsuki," Viktor finally says. "I will fetch your breakfast. Please excuse me."
Yuuri says nothing as Viktor leaves. He stares at the space where the stranger stood, then around the room, trying to see anything that looks familiar and failing. Feeling cold, he wraps a blanket around himself and returns to the pillows. His glasses are sitting on the bedside table next to a phone, but Yuuri doesn't recognize either of them. Yet the glasses are his prescription when he puts them on, and the phone opens to his thumb print.
Yuuri opens his messages, but none of his contacts look familiar. His parents are there, with his sister and Minako, but there are many other entries that he does not recognize, nor does he understand the messages within. Viktor's contact is there, but the messages are all polite on Viktor's part, and occasionally demanding on Yuuri's part.
On a whim, Yuuri searches the internet for Yuuri Katsuki.
Google does not tell him anything about his impending marriage or his fiancé. Instead, Yuuri finds several pictures of himself in glamorous suits, rubbing elbows with celebrities and wealthy business owners of New York, Paris, and Tokyo. Katsuki Enterprises is mentioned frequently.
He has a Wikipedia page, still, but it doesn't say a single thing about figure skating.
'Katsuki was born in Hasetsu, Japan to wealthy inn owners Toshiya and Hiroko. Following in his family's footsteps, Katsuki studied business at Tokyo University, where he graduated summa cum laude. He then dedicated the next two years to expanding his parents' hospitality business to fourteen inns around Japan, before starting Katsuki Enterprises and beginning his own hotel line. Today, he is the third wealthiest person in Japan and the richest bachelor in the country.'
"This isn't me," Yuuri whispers. But the words are in black and white. The internet contains nothing about his skating, marrying Viktor, or even about his dogs. The expression on Viktor's face when Yuuri had mentioned Makkachin...
If Viktor is merely his employee, then Yuuri wouldn't know Makkachin.
And I just hit on him, Yuuri realizes. If this is all real, then he just sexually assaulted his employee. His Viktor -- who isn't his. Why Viktor has curly hair, Yuuri barely understands. The other stuff could be faked by concocted articles and quick changes to his Wikipedia page. But the curls, and the way Viktor looked at him...
Before he realizes it, Yuuri is crying. He reaches up to touch his wet cheeks and catches sight of his bare finger. No ring, not even his tan line where his ring would have sat. Nothing to tie him to Viktor.
His fiancé is gone.
The sob catches him by surprise, and he hides his face in a pillow as he starts to cry in earnest. He wants to go home. This must be a dream. If it isn't, then it isn't real -- and surely Yuuri can go home. The other Yuuri, the wealthy businessman who parties and owns several decadent apartments at the top of hotels, can have this life back.
He doesn't notice the door opening or the return of the stranger, until a hand touches his shoulder. Yuuri jolts and flinches away, looking up to see Viktor leaning over him, looking worried again. Quickly, Viktor straightens and puts his hand behind his back, but Yuuri can't help scooting away, afraid of him. He spots a tray of elegant foods sitting on the bedside table next to his glasses but ignores it.
"Mr. Katsuki, are you feeling alright?" Viktor asks gently. His earlier embarrassment is gone, replaced with polite concern.
"Get out," Yuuri whispers. He doesn't want to see this stranger anymore. "If you're not going to tell me this is a prank, then I don't want to see you. Get out, Viktor."
He hopes, with all his heart, that Viktor will give up the charade now and come clean. Yet Viktor merely nods and steps back, his eyes lingering on Yuuri before he quietly leaves the room once more. As the door shuts behind him, Yuuri crumples.
He does not move for a long time.
~*~
Yuuri spends the day hiding in bed. Several times, Viktor knocks on the door and asks if he is feeling alright, but Yuuri never answers that polite stranger's voice. He does not eat the breakfast Viktor brought, nor the lunch that Viktor tries to offer him as well. He doesn't speak to him again, either.
He tries to sleep, but whenever he wakes up, he is still in the room of red and black, surrounded by a nightmare. Finally, Yuuri leaves the bed and explores the room, to try and find something of himself. The closet holds both modest and fashionable outfits, and Yuuri chooses the simplest jeans and shirt he can locate. He finds a laptop in a desk against the wall and tries to get into it, succeeding with the password vicchan1129.
Sure enough, his background is a picture of his beautiful little poodle. Yuuri's heart twists, and he wonders how Vicchan could have the same name, if Yuuri never did figure skating and followed Viktor. A mystery, it seems. He browses his files, but all he finds is business documents, a few games, and pictures of his family. No pictures of Detroit, the GPF, other skaters, or his fiancé.
The strange Viktor appears in a few of these pictures, though. Often, he is the subject of the photo without realizing that he is part of it, as if the picture was quickly taken. Stolen, more like.
Yuuri suddenly gets it. His other self is in love with Viktor, just like Yuuri is with his own Viktor. The small collection of photos seem precious, bunched into their own folder, something to hide away. As if the affections are not returned. Yet Yuuri still keeps the photos -- and not only those, but several of a much younger Viktor, of a much lower quality. Of Viktor skating on ice in beautiful outfits, his curls wisping around his face like a fae creature.
Yuuri knows himself. He knows what his other self must feel.
There are no other 'lovers' in this Yuuri's life, at least. A few friends, but far in between. Some selfies at parties and clubs, but Yuuri recognizes the downfall of those. He always appears drunk and ready to find a pole. Perhaps his other self drinks to escape the hardships of working constantly while in love with someone who doesn't like him.
As far as Yuuri can see, the strange Viktor only sees him as his employer. Someone to obey, to keep at an arm's distance. The texts between them are polite to the point of being formal. There is no hint of the comfortable love between himself and his Viktor, not a single bit of flirting. No wonder the strange Viktor had been so freaked out.
Eventually Viktor returns, entering the room even though Yuuri doesn't welcome him inside. He glances disapprovingly at the full lunch tray, then turns his attention on Yuuri himself. Yuuri eyes him warily, unsure how to deal with him.
"We must leave for the airport now, Mr. Katsuki," Viktor says after a moment, looking perturbed by Yuuri's silence. His curls are very distinct against his forehead, a bit messier than this morning. He still seems concerned for Yuuri, but he has kept his distance and has not asked any questions. "Your bags have been packed and placed in the car."
Yuuri debates arguing with him. He doesn't want to go to Tokyo, but perhaps if he reaches Japan, he can go see his family. Having some familiarity would be better than this stranger.
"Alright," Yuuri says listlessly. He goes to locate his wallet and phone, while Viktor packs up his laptop and slides it into a compact carrying case. Yuuri tries to carry it, but Viktor sweeps the laptop and a backpack sitting by the door out of the room without commenting further, and Yuuri reluctantly follows him.
The apartment, like his bedroom, is lavishly decorated. Nothing looks like it came from Yuuri's home, so Yuuri pays little attention to it, trailing after Viktor to an elevator and stepping inside. Viktor presses one of the buttons, and Yuuri turns his attention to the glass wall. On the other side is a city he has never seen in person before.
He had a layover in JFK once, but that was it. He stares out at the skyline, at the bustling streets and cars, uncomfortably aware of Viktor watching him.
"Mr. Katsuki," Viktor says after a moment, but to Yuuri's deep relief, the elevator stops at one of the floors and lets on two other people. Viktor remains silent for the rest of the ride down to the garage, where he leads Yuuri to a rather expensive looking car. Thankfully for Yuuri's nerves, Viktor takes the driver's seat.
The ride to the airport seems to take a long time, but perhaps only thirty minutes pass. Yuuri avoids speaking to Viktor the whole time, instead busying himself with his phone and reading back through his messages. He sees hints of his other self's attraction to Viktor a few times, but nothing to show that Viktor returns the sentiment. Eventually it depresses him, and he decides to play games until they reach the airport.
Viktor, thankfully, has both of their passports. They get through security and customs with enough time to make it to the gate. Yuuri takes over his backpack and one of the suitcases, while Viktor handles the laptop and the other suitcase. Despite his strangeness, he is quite adept at anticipating Yuuri's needs and taking care of them before Yuuri can even vocalize anything, if he were in the mood to speak.
"Mr. Katsuki, do you think you could eat something before the flight?"
Yuuri looks up from his phone, frowning a little. They have reached their gate, and boarding will not begin for another hour. At the thought of food, his stomach gives a painful grumble, as if it wants to eat but knows that food will make him sick. Viktor looks so worried, though, that Yuuri finally gives in and nods.
"Just something light," Yuuri says, and his heart drops to his knees when Viktor's face lights up in a very familiar way.
"Good! I will be right back. Please wait here, okay?"
Yuuri watches Viktor speed off into the crowd, his heart aching at the realization that this Viktor is not a stranger after all.
Viktor returns some time later with a container of hot soup, a roll of bread, and an iced tea, as well as a bag of food for himself. Yuuri eats the soup slowly, relieved when his stomach accepts the meal, peeking at Viktor out of the corner of his eye as Viktor works his way through a salad.
He wonders what kind of life this Viktor has lived, to become a rich businessman's personal assistant. He is much more subdued than Yuuri's Viktor, despite his curly hair. Yuuri recognizes his politeness and charm, having seen them used on other people and himself before, but never this distance. Viktor was always warm and open with him, free to be himself.
If Viktor did not remain a figure skater, then what kind of life did he have? How did he end up with Yuuri? Even though they are together... Viktor does not love him. They are all but strangers.
Yuuri sighs at that thought and sets his soup container aside, no longer hungry. Viktor gives him an anxious glance, leading Yuuri to tuck his bread into his backpack in a napkin. Some of the worry on Viktor's face eases at that.
He tries to busy himself with his phone again, while Viktor takes care of their trash, but his eyes follow Viktor's figure all the way to the trash can. He quickly drops his gaze when Viktor turns around, but he thinks Viktor noticed anyway.
This is agony. He wants to go home. He wants to know how he got to this place and how he can go back. Is he supposed to do something here? Help someone? He knows the rules of magic and fantasy stories. People who get transported to other worlds need to do something special, before they can go home. What is Yuuri supposed to do?
"You're not yourself," says a low voice in his ear, and Yuuri swallows back a yelp as he jumps and turns his head. His heart leaps to his throat to see Viktor leaning close to him, looking serious. Yuuri quickly looks away, unable to stop his face from flushing.
"I'm fine."
"You're not," Viktor says evenly. "You're acting like I'm a stranger."
"Aren't you, though?" Yuuri says, before he can stop himself. He covers his mouth in horror, glancing at Viktor's expression. His stomach twists with anxiety when Viktor's eyes narrow in consideration.
Thankfully, they are interrupted by the boarding call. Yuuri stands quickly and makes his way to the line for first class, not looking back as Viktor follows him, eyes on the back of Yuuri's head. As they make their way onto the plane, Yuuri tries to think of what he can do to ease Viktor's suspicions, but he can think of nothing.
They settle into their seats. First class seems quiet compared to the rest of the flight, and Yuuri rummages around in his backpack, breathing a sigh of relief when he finds some headphones. Viktor is busy with securing their suitcases, so Yuuri quickly puts in his headphones and turns on the first song in his phone.
Schubert fills his ear, which surprises Yuuri. The familiarity relaxes him, and he closes his eyes and tucks himself into his seat, ignoring Viktor when he sits down next to him.
The flight begins, and soon they are in the air. Yuuri calms himself by listening to classical music and staring out the window at the horizon. The other people flying first class begin to fall asleep, one by one, until Yuuri seems to be the only person awake. He feels alone.
Yuuri breathes out and glances at Viktor, hoping that he is also asleep -- only to be shocked when he finds Viktor staring right at him. After a moment, Viktor reaches over and pulls Yuuri's headphone out, leaning in close. "Tell me what's wrong."
Yuuri glances at him, then around the plane, terrified of anyone listening in. "Is this really the time?" he whispers.
"Anytime is the right time. There is something wrong, and you need to tell me what it is," Viktor says. Yuuri makes the mistake of meeting his eyes -- blue, deep, serious -- and his stubborn pride falters. This stranger looks so much like his Viktor, despite his strange curls, that Yuuri cannot help but trust him.
He takes a deep breath, then hesitates. Viktor only gazes at him, patient as he has always been, and Yuuri gives in.
"Have you ever had a dream so vivid that you thought it was real?" Yuuri asks after a moment, his voice so low that he can barely hear himself. Viktor blinks in surprise, and Yuuri steels his heart. "This is that dream. I'm not supposed to be here. I'm supposed to be at home with you and Makkachin, getting ready for our wedding."
His voice goes silent on the last word, and he turns his face away, lest he cry in front of Viktor. He cannot stop the tears from slipping out, and he hurriedly fishes a napkin out of his backpack, wiping at his eyes. He can feel Viktor staring at him, judging him. Not believing him.
"You're not Mr. Katsuki," Viktor says slowly.
Yuuri glances at him, drained from his confession. "Not the one you know."
"That explains a lot," Viktor says, sounding distracted. He is rubbing his finger over his mouth, an achingly familiar gesture. "How very interesting. See, I have never told you about Makkachin. So that makes me believe you, if only because it is the only thing that makes sense. Wedding, did you say?"
Yuuri closes his eyes at the anguish that wells up in his throat. "Yeah. I'm supposed to get married today. To you. Makkachin is supposed to be our ringbearer, because Yuri Plisetsky refused to do it."
"Yuri Plisetsky?" Viktor repeats, sounding flabbergasted. "Who?"
"Our rinkmate," Yuuri sighs. It feels better to talk about it, now, even though he knows it sounds like an elaborate story. "You and I are figure skaters. You're my coach, and we proposed to each other at the Grand Prix Final. Then we moved to St. Petersburg to train at Coach Yakov's rink..." He trails off at the look on Viktor's face and sighs again. "I know this sounds crazy."
"Yakov... Feltsman?" Viktor asks, his eyes wide.
Yuuri blinks in surprise. "Yeah, him."
"I skated as a child. He was my coach," Viktor says slowly. "I dropped out after an injury when I was sixteen. I have never told you that, either."
Yuuri stays quiet, realizing that this was the diverging point. Viktor stopped skating, and so Yuuri never followed him into the sport. Maybe he did skate when he was little, too, and maybe he watched Viktor's early skates, becoming enough of a fan to name his poodle after Viktor. Yet when Viktor left the profession, then Yuuri would not have stayed, either.
Yet they came together, anyway.
"How did you and I meet? Here," Yuuri asks quietly.
"I saw you pole dancing at a party," Viktor says absently. Then he turns red, and Yuuri turns red with him, mortified. Viktor glances at him, and a familiar smile touches his lips at seeing Yuuri so embarrassed. "It was some socialite's party. I was only there because I knew one of the hosts. I saw you in the middle of a crowd, dancing for them. You fell off the pole and into my arms, and you asked me to be your assistant."
Yuuri wants to crawl under his seat and never come out again. "Please say I didn't."
"You did," Viktor chuckles. "I didn't believe it was real, until I got an email from your previous assistant the next day, with a contract. I signed it immediately, and it has been that way for two years."
Yuuri's heart twists. No wonder his other self is so desperately in love. Two years of Viktor's beautiful face and kind presence, and none of the sweetness behind his mask, none of the savage comments and gentle care. Only this strange professional man, with his curls and calm smile, looking after him so perfectly.
"Your hair is straight in my world," Yuuri says quietly. Viktor blinks at him.
"Straight?"
"Not a single curl," Yuuri confirms, turning his gaze to the window. The sun is starting to set now. He feels wrung out, and their conversation has gone on too long. He hopes no one is listening to them. "Even when you had long hair, it never curled..." He covers a yawn, then rubs at his eyes, hating how dry they feel after crying.
After a long moment, Viktor offers the headphone back. "You should get some sleep," he says gently, and Yuuri only nods, putting the headphone back in and closing his eyes.
He sleeps through the rest of the flight.
~*~
When Yuuri wakes, they have landed in Tokyo, and he is still not home. He follows Viktor off the plane in a groggy haze, making his way through customs as if he is still asleep. He tells the agent that he is here for business, then drags his suitcase through security until he finds Viktor waiting on the other side with a smile.
Viktor seems more open with him, now that he knows that Yuuri is not 'Mr. Katsuki.' Yuuri is too tired to question it, instead following Viktor through the airport to the rentals, where they secure a car. Viktor drives them to a high rise hotel with Yuutopia emblazoned on the side. Just like in New York, Yuuri's home here is an apartment at the top of the building, accessed with a golden key card.
As soon as they enter the apartment, tastefully decorated in mild blues, Yuuri finds the closest soft surface and falls on his face. He hears a chuckle, and a moment later, a gentle hand touches his back, cautiously, as if unsure of its welcome. Yuuri turns his face from the couch cushion to peer at Viktor, who is leaning over him, his gaze soft. His curls touch his forehead in a very distracting way.
Yuuri suddenly wonders what it would be like to touch them. He quickly balls his hands at his sides, not daring to move.
"I'm going to move the board meeting and clear your schedule for tomorrow. We will figure this out together," Viktor says quietly.
"What if I go home tonight?" Yuuri says. Despite sleeping, maybe he will get to go home, and he will wake up in his Viktor's arms.
Viktor only blinks. "Then I will confront my Yuuri over his fantasy of marrying me and my dog."
Yuuri turns red and pushes himself up, ready to argue, but Viktor only smiles at him knowingly and turns away. Yuuri watches as Viktor strides to a phone on a tall table against the wall and places an order to the kitchens, then returns to the couch, sitting down next to him.
"You aren't together," Yuuri blurts out, then covers his mouth.
"Not in the way I want," Viktor agrees evenly. Yuuri gapes at him.
"What?"
"I have been in love with you for two years, Yuuri. Rather, I have been in love with Mr. Katsuki for two years, and I can only say so now, because you are not him." Viktor takes a deep breath, then eases it out, looking happier for the confession. "I fell in love with him when I saw him dancing freely. It was like his body was music itself," he says dreamily.
Yuuri swallows against his dry throat. "He's in love with you too," he can't help but say. Viktor twists to stare at him.
"Excuse me?" he demands, his eyes flashing dangerously. Wordlessly, Yuuri stands and goes to find his laptop case, then returns with the laptop, opening it and going to the secret folder of Viktor pictures.
He sets the laptop down on the coffee table and sets the pictures to play in a slideshow. Viktor watches the images of himself pass in silence, his eyes wide, reaching up to touch his mouth as if to stop himself from speaking. Yuuri watches him, his nerves slowly calming as he sees the wonder and cautious joy on Viktor's face.
"He's in love with you," Yuuri repeats quietly. "If he's me, even unlike me as he is, then he's in love with you. I've been in love with you since I was twelve, when I saw you skating and decided to join you on the ice. If he saw you like I did, then he would have felt the same. But if you left... then he would have left, too."
"Yet we found each other anyway," Viktor murmurs. He blinks away wetness from his eyes. "I was popular when I skated, but that was years ago. Surely Mr. Katsuki wouldn't remember me..."
The words prove themselves untrue at the last set of photographs, of a very young Viktor with long, beautiful curls in a sparkling skating outfit. Yuuri's most precious secret, both in his world and in this one. Viktor reaches out to touch the laptop, stopping the slideshow and covering his face.
They are interrupted by a knock at the door. Yuuri rises before Viktor can and goes to retrieve their dinners, returning with a service cart with two covered trays. Viktor jumps up to fetch the trays, but Yuuri bats his hands away and picks one up, setting it in front of Viktor's spot on the coffee table. Viktor joins him a moment later and stubbornly sets down the other plate in front of Yuuri.
"I am meant to take care of you," Viktor starts, but Yuuri reaches up to touch his lips, shocking him into silence.
"I'm not your Mr. Katsuki, and you already do. You're not a servant, Viktor."
Viktor breathes in shakily against his finger, then gently takes Yuuri's hand and lowers it to the couch. "Nevertheless, I wish to look after you. Starting with dinner. You have eaten very little in the past thirty-six hours, Yuuri. Eat, please."
Viktor pulls off the covers with a flourish. Yuuri's stomach growls, and he gives in with a sigh, picking up his plate of food. The cuisine appears to be French, something Viktor has been cooking for him a lot lately, and Yuuri digs in with relief, acutely aware of Viktor watching him closely.
When their stomachs have been filled, Yuuri pulls his legs onto the couch and stares down at his hands, drained. He wonders if he will wake up in the right place, or if he will be stuck here forever. Beside him, Viktor is quiet. Yuuri starts to reach for Viktor's hand without thinking, then closes it tightly.
Viktor notices, though. He takes Yuuri's tightly balled hand and holds it gently in his own, stroking Yuuri's bare finger thoughtfully until his grip relaxes. "Wedding, hm?"
Yuuri nods miserably. He wants nothing more than to fall into Viktor's arms, but this is not his Viktor.
"Then I am sorry for you," Viktor murmurs, lifting Yuuri's hand to kiss his ring finger. Yuuri stares at him, his heart speeding up painfully. "As well as for the other me, who must miss you dearly. Yet I find myself missing my Yuuri, as well. I am eager for him to return, so that I may speak to him of our feelings. So much we have missed..."
Yuuri breathes out carefully, then closes his fingers around Viktor's hand. "I guess we'll see when we wake up," he tries, but the ache in his heart makes the words hurt. He has slept so many times, and each time, he has failed to wake up in his own life. It feels hopeless.
Viktor nods and lets him go, standing to gather their dishes. Yuuri tries to help, but Viktor shoots him a stern look until Yuuri quails and lets Viktor do what he wants. After everything has been cleared away and the laptop has been closed, Viktor takes one of the suitcases and walks into one of the bedrooms off to the side of the large living area.
Yuuri gets up after a moment and follows. He finds Viktor putting clothes away into a large closet, where many suits already hang. He sets Yuuri's wallet and phone on the bedside table, then turns to face Yuuri with a soft smile.
"I hope you rest well tonight, Yuuri."
"Thank you, Viktor," Yuuri says softly, stepping out of the way as Viktor approaches. Viktor pauses beside him, and Yuuri turns his face up curiously. His heart speeds up when Viktor's fingers touch his chin. He feels more than sees Viktor lean toward him, waiting...
But then he stops it by touching his fingers to Viktor's lips once more. Viktor pauses in surprise, and Yuuri smiles at him sadly.
"Shouldn't your first kiss be with Mr. Katsuki, not me?"
Viktor breathes in sharply, then nods and steps away, his cheeks flushed. "I am so sorry, Yuuri --"
"It's okay," Yuuri says gently, catching Viktor's hand and squeezing it. "Just... if he comes back in the morning, talk to him. Tell him what you told me. Please?"
"Alright," Viktor says quietly, then brings Yuuri's hand up to kiss his palm softly. Yuuri touches his fingers to Viktor's cheek, then gives in and reaches up to stroke his hair in wonder, enthralled by how the soft locks curl around his fingers. Viktor lets him pet his hair for a few moments, smiling in bemusement, before gently taking Yuuri's hand again, as if he doesn't want to let go.
"Good night," Yuuri says, squeezing Viktor's hand once more, then letting go. Viktor nods and steps back, holding Yuuri's gaze wistfully for a moment, before he closes the door. Yuuri stares at the dark wood, then breathes out and makes his way unsteadily to the bed, sinking down onto the soft comforter.
He is asleep within moments.
~*~
Yuuri wakes slowly with the sensation that he is being watched.
Something warm presses against his side, and Yuuri turns his face into soft curls. A moment later, a cold nose presses into his ear, and Yuuri startles with a laugh, his eyes opening in joy.
"Makkachin!"
Makkachin boofs at him, giving him a few morning kisses. Yuuri turns his head and finds Viktor resting beside him, his blue eyes open and soft with love. Viktor smiles at him warmly and leans down to kiss his other cheek, his arm around Yuuri's waist tightening. Around them are the tasteful decorations of the best suite in Yuutopia.
"Good morning, my future husband, zolotse," Viktor murmurs, nuzzling into his hair.
Yuuri smiles and leans into him, feeling comforted and loved. He looks up into Viktor's face and sees his hair falling over his eyes in a gentle wave.
Not curls. At the thought, his memories come rushing back, and Yuuri finds himself crying. He blinks away tears, stunned at himself.
Viktor sits up in alarm, unsettling Makkachin. "Yuuri? What's wrong?"
Yuuri reaches up and wraps himself around Viktor, pressing into his neck, needing him. He cannot stop the sobs of relief, of knowing that he is home, that his strange encounter was just a dream. Viktor's strong arm curls around his waist, pulling him close as he murmurs comforting words, rocking Yuuri as he cries.
"Darling, please tell me what's wrong," Viktor begs, when Yuuri's sobs slow and he begins to calm.
"I dreamed I wasn't here anymore," Yuuri whispers, his voice catching. "You weren't you, and you had curly hair, and we weren't together, and Makkachin was gone, and, and --"
"Shh," Viktor murmurs, stroking Yuuri's hair gently. "It was just a dream, solnyshko. You are here with me, and Makkachin is here with us, and we are getting married today. Okay? There is no need to cry."
Yuuri bursts into tears again.
It takes a long time for Viktor to calm him down, and longer still to explain the strange dream that wasn't a dream. At the end of it, Viktor seems solemn, not in disbelief but in pity for their other selves, who struggled with their feelings for so long. Yuuri lays curled against him, while Viktor rubs his hand up and down Yuuri's arm.
"I hope they are together now. You must have helped them get there. If only we'd had some help like that for us," he teases, making Yuuri roll his eyes.
"We figured it out just fine," he mumbles, aware of how much he had resisted Viktor's romancing during that long summer, and how they had nearly torn each other apart during the season afterward. He glances up after Viktor doesn't reply.
Viktor is smiling softly at him, love in his gaze. "Shall we go get married, Yuuri?"
Yuuri smiles back, love filling his heart. He hopes that the other Viktor, with his strange curls and polite smile, manages to woo the wayward Mr. Katsuki. In the meantime, he has a busy day ahead of him. "Let's go, Viktor."
~*~
Viktor watches his charge silently, a small smile on his lips. Yuuri stares at the laptop screen in mute horror as the photos of Viktor play across the screen. Yet on his cheeks is a telltale flush, one that Viktor saw just yesterday on the same face, but of a man who was a stranger to him.
"You watched me skate when I was younger," Viktor says softly, and Yuuri takes a deep, shuddering breath. He looks ashamed of himself, but Viktor needs to see this through. He needs to know the truth.
"I did," Yuuri finally says, looking anywhere but Viktor. He rubs the back of his neck nervously.
"Why didn't you tell me, Mr. Katsuki?"
"I didn't believe it was you at first," Yuuri blurts out, then covers his mouth. His movements are much more careful than they were yesterday. He seems more aware of himself, of what he could give away with only a gesture or a word. Viktor had known immediately that something was wrong with Yuuri when he had woken up the day before, but the difference is still striking. The other Yuuri had been so open with his emotions.
Still, Viktor prefers this Yuuri to anyone else.
"Go on, Yuuri," Viktor says gently, and Yuuri jolts in surprise at the name, dark eyes flashing toward him. Viktor smiles at him, and Yuuri takes a deep breath, seeming to calm down at the sight of it.
"I was really drunk that night. And you know how I am when I get drunk," Yuuri says miserably. "I hardly remembered it until my assistant showed me the contract you signed. It was a miracle she was already leaving, or she could have been insulted..."
"I'm aware," Viktor says, amused. Yuuri rolls his eyes.
"Yeah, well, I didn't believe it. I thought there could have been other Viktor Nikiforovs in the world. Then you walked into my office, and it was... you," he says, the last word as soft as Yuuri's voice was yesterday. Viktor's heart skips a beat.
Yuuri says nothing else for a moment. "If I hadn't been in his place, I wouldn't have believed it. It still feels like a dream."
"Yet you woke in my arms, in that other world. You did nothing else?"
"No. I thought it was a really nice dream, so I fell back asleep... and woke up here, a day later than I should have," Yuuri says, then turns pink again. Viktor wants to touch his cheeks to see if they are as warm as they look. "I'm -- I'm so sorry, Viktor, I know this is unprofessional, and I'll pay you severance pay or whatever you want --"
"I don't want severance pay," Viktor says firmly, then takes Yuuri's hand. The squeak he makes is absolutely adorable. "I want you, Yuuri. I've wanted you ever since you fell into my arms. I may not understand what happened, but I am grateful for it anyway. Now... please, let me kiss you. I've waited two years."
Yuuri's eyes snap up to lock with his gaze. "Two years?" he repeats, his voice a whisper.
"Two years," Viktor affirms. He waits patiently, and at last, Yuuri gives a tiny nod, swallowing nervously as he stares at Viktor. When Viktor leans in and presses their lips together, it feels like coming home.
Thank you, Yuuri, Viktor thinks, his heart soaring with love. May you and I have all the happiness in the world.