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"Where are we going?"
"A walk," Viktor says and pulls Yuuri along. His hand is sweaty around Yuuri's wrist, but he holds firm.
"A walk where?"
"It's a surprise!"
This excuse should be good enough; Yuuri is used to Viktor's surprise dates by now. But he can't fool Yuuri with his fake cheer anymore.
Viktor is jerked to a stop when Yuuri twists his arm to turn Viktor towards him. He meets Viktor's eyes, concerned.
"You don't sound like you're excited about this surprise."
This is bad. The intended place for this conversation is further down the path they should be walking. It's tempting to just lie and pretend he has nothing significant to say, but he can't keep up the pretense.
Yuuri has a right to know he's dating a demon.
When Viktor left the underworld to come here, he'd expected to complete his task quickly and return. Instead, he's still walking the earth, that original task forgotten in favor of a man he loves and a life he doesn't want to leave. A shared apartment, where Viktor had worked on his own patience waiting for Yuuri to open up. Where he'd helped nurture Yuuri's confidence. Where he holds Yuuri every night, watching his face as he sleeps, and ruffles his already-messy hair every morning. Where he learned how it feels to have a home.
He's happier than he's ever been, and he wants nothing more than for things to stay exactly as they are. How can he explain this to the man who only knows his lie, and fell in love with it?
The plan was to take Yuuri further away from their apartment before they talk. If Yuuri rejects him, it should give him time to appear back in their apartment, erase any trace of his existence, and vanish before Yuuri gets back. Humans are strange about his kind, and he doesn't want to force his presence on Yuuri.
This isn't a possibility anymore. Yuuri isn't going to be pulled anywhere.
"Vitya, you've been acting weird for days."
An understatement and they both know it.
"I'm sorry," Viktor says, meeting Yuuri's anxious eyes. "I don't know where to start."
In a nervous gesture Viktor adores, Yuuri bites his lip. Viktor drinks it in, along with the open expression in Yuuri's eyes when he looks at him, even uneasy as he is.
"The beginning?"
Neither of them is a natural at moral support, and this is so characteristically unhelpful it makes Viktor smile. Where is the beginning when his very existence should require an explanation?
Before he can talk himself out of having this conversation, Viktor bends to kiss Yuuri's forehead and says, "Okay, I'll try. The beginning."
Yuuri nods.
"I'm... not really from Russia," Viktor starts and only realizes how strange an opening this is when he sees Yuuri's eyebrows twist in confusion. "It's actually more complicated than that," he hurries to amend, "I am from Russia in some ways, but not like people normally mean it."
"Vitya." Yuuri takes Viktor's hand and leans back to look at him. "You're not making sense."
With a frustrated sigh, Viktor runs a thumb over Yuuri's knuckles, savoring the warmth and trying to memorize the texture of his skin. "I know I'm not, but it's hard to explain. You don't have much context, and the little you do know is... worse than inaccurate. Let me start again?"
"Of course," Yuuri says, probably trying for a gentle tone but sounding mostly nervous.
"Thank you," he says and kisses Yuuri's hand, a gesture that sometimes still causes a slight blush.
He breathes in the scent of Yuuri's skin and drops another kiss to his finger, hopefully not for the last time, but just in case.
"Everything you see here, this isn't my world," Viktor says slowly, gesturing around them with a slight tilt of his head, forcing himself to continue even as Yuuri's eyes widen and he sucks in a sharp breath. "We... We call this the over world. I come from the underworld."
Yuuri tears his hand from Viktor's as he recoils, stumbling in his hurry to distance himself.
"Yuuri, please, wait," Viktor says and tries to feel reassured when Yuuri stops and doesn't back away further.
"You're a demon," Yuuri utters the word in a tone Viktor has never heard from him before.
"Yes," Viktor confirms, wary.
The initial shock drains away and Yuuri's hand rises to cover his mouth. Despite trying to prepare for any possible reaction, what Viktor sees in Yuuri's face now is unlike anything he'd expected. Yuuri doesn't seem incredulous or confused. He doesn't even seem scared.
Yuuri seems devastated.
The sight of tears has Viktor freezing in place. He'd expected be faced with disbelief, worry, questions, accusations based on myth and misinformation, demands to prove his nature. Once, in a particularly bad moment, he even envisioned Yuuri turning away from him in disgust. Foolishly, he never considered tears.
"Oh, Yuuri," Viktor says, coming closer but not daring to touch him. "I promise, it isn't as bad as it sounds."
Yuuri shakes his head, his eyes wet and bright. Viktor hates the pain he sees in them, hates being the cause of it.
"We aren't monsters. I'm not after... your soul, or your life force, or anything your people dreamed up. I promise I'm not going to harm you."
When Yuuri shuts his eyes and lets a pained sob escape, Viktor's arms itch to wrap themselves around him. His heart breaks knwing it would not be welcome. With no idea of what to address to make this better, his attempts to soothe are horribly clumsy.
"I didn't... I never planned this. I never meant to deceive you," he pleads. "I'm so sorry I lied, but I'm still me, I swear. We aren't what you think. I know humans have stories, but—"
"Stop," Yuuri croaks and looks away, his face scrunching up.
It's been months since he'd felt this out of his depth in the face of Yuuri's distress. He'd spent so much effort learning what Yuuri needs, but this isn't a situation they'd discussed and Viktor doesn't know how to comfort him. Lost, he waits for Yuuri's breath to be steady enough to speak.
"I— I'm—" Yuuri tries, but chokes on the words, dropping his head into his hands and making a startling wounded sound.
"Yuuri?"
The air around Yuuri shifts. In a flash of light, a pair of white wings materializes behind him.
An angel.
"Oh."
Yuuri's hands drop from his face and wrap around his body. His tears fall and stain the ground. "Yes," he says, sounding defeated.
"You're beautiful."
"WHAT?" Yuuri snaps. "How can you say that!?"
Viktor flinches. "I'm..."
"Don't you see what this means?" Yuuri yells, tears streaming down his cheeks in a constant flow. "When I thought you were human, that was... it was bad, awful, forbidden, but this—" he gestures between them desperately— "this just— DOESN'T HAPPEN!"
Unable to think of a proper response, Viktor just stands there as Yuuri looks around them, frantic and wide eyed. The realization of what's about to happen dawns on him and a moment before Yuuri can spread his wings and escape, Viktor's hand rises towards him, and— "WAIT!"
Yuuri's face twists painfully, but he stops. "I'm... sorry."
Viktor wilts.
"I need to think," he says, drained, any trace of emotion gone from his voice.
With his face turned away, visibly tense, Yuuri looks close to falling apart. As if he's struggling to keep from curling in on himself. It's been so long since the last time Yuuri refused to let himself break down in front of him. Viktor longs to offer some comfort now, to hold him through this.
He realizes his fingers are wrapped around Yuuri's forearm. He unthinkingly grabbed Yuuri to stop him from escaping to the sky, where Viktor can't follow him.
Yuuri is waiting for him to let go.
"I think," Viktor says carefully, "I should consider this too. But..."
Yuuri's shoulders slump as he's released.
"Let me know," Viktor finishes.
Eyes closing in resignation, Yuuri nods. "In three weeks," he promises.
Viktor licks his dry lips. "I'll wait at—" home— "the apartment."
Nodding again once, Yuuri takes off with a powerful gust of wind. Leaving Viktor behind.
Trying to swallow past the painful lump choking him, Viktor watches Yuuri fly. He can't look away until Yuuri vanishes in the distance.
He truly is beautiful.
—
Three weeks later, Viktor enters a strange structure. It looks like a mix between man-made and natural. Not parts of each but both at once, blended together.
It should be familiar; places like this — manifestations of different traits living things share — exist in the underworld too. But this isn't the underworld. This place isn't likely to embody a trait similar to any of those he's used to visiting. It feels nothing like the ones he knows, completely alien in its nature. The mix of strangeness and familiarity leaves him on edge.
The message he'd received from Yuuri asked him to come if he's "still interested." A poor choice of words, far too mild. His feelings can hardly be reduced to mere interest. But the answer to Yuuri's question stays the same.
It's unsurprising that he's so sure about what he wants. How could he hesitate when he thinks about the way they fell in love, the fun they had on dates, the silly sense of humor they enjoyed together. They've had countless ridiculous competitions of tongue twisters in different languages, and even more ridiculous arguments about the fairness of using a language one of them speaks better. Eventually they chose to try a language none of them speaks, with Phichit as their judge. They were left without a winner when Phichit laughed so hard he couldn't breathe and declared, "Awful! You both suck!"
With memories like these, there's really only one path to take. There's a part of him that wants to scream that the choice should be easy for Yuuri too. The idea that it might not be so simple is painful to contemplate. But his own disregard for for what's allowed be done is to be expected. He's no angel, and he can't decide for Yuuri. He doesn't even know what Yuuri might lose.
Does he have a family? What about friends? Why did he come to live on earth to begin with, what's his role in heaven?
He thought he knew Yuuri, and he values the things he knows — favorite video games and favorite foods, the way his eyes shine when he's breathless with laughter — but now, without the security of being together every day, those things seem insignificant in the face of everything he didn't even know to ask.
Viktor is still troubled by this when he reaches the top of the structure, where he finds Yuuri. He's sitting on the edge of a sort of balcony, or a ledge, looking out at a view of skies and mountains Viktor is unable to enjoy. The shirt Yuuri is wearing has an open back to accommodate the wings he hasn't bothered to hide. It suits him.
Looking for words, Viktor finds that he doesn't know how to address Yuuri and his discomfort grows. He's struck by how much he misses their simple days together, when he wasn't planning dramatic monologues and heartfelt declarations only to realize that none of them could actually be said out loud.
Eventually Viktor comes closer and asks, "Where are we?"
"The Lighthouse," Yuuri says without looking at Viktor, his voice subdued. "A new name for an ancient place. It's a manifestation of... conscience, I suppose."
"Conscience?"
"Moral conscience."
Scowling, Viktor leans against a wall. "Morality is not ancient. Humanity is new."
Yuuri's brief smile shows a hint of fond amusement before his expression closes off again. "I guess it depends on how you look at morality."
Viktor blinks. "Why are we meeting here?" he says to cut through this odd conversation he'd unintentionally started.
Hesitantly, Yuuri licks his lips as his eyes flicker from the trees to the floor near Viktor's feet and back out over the landscape.
"I've been spending a lot of time here, ever since... ever since we... " He cuts off with a frustrated groan that makes Viktor think for a moment that he might fly off again, but Yuuri just takes a deep breath and forces out a rapid, "I've been debating the morality of us."
"... Ah."
This hurts. No wonder Yuuri struggled to say it. Judging by the phrasing, he'd been mentally preparing himself at least as much as Viktor, and this somehow makes what he'd just said worse. Letting the silence stretch before he speaks again, Viktor watches Yuuri's form. He's distant, but familiar in the softness of his hair, the hunched shoulders, the nervous fidgeting.
"So… what did you decide?"
"Why did you come?" Yuuri asks suddenly.
Viktor wants to pull his angel out of his head and have a proper conversation.
"You asked me to," he bites.
"But why did you come?" Yuuri repeats, screwing his eyes shut. "It could have been a trap. It still might be. I'm… my kind is dangerous to yours."
"I thought about that," Viktor admits, "but I don't think I could have forgiven myself if I missed this."
Shifting, Yuuri wraps his arms around his legs. "I'm not worth taking that kind of risk."
Despite his frustration and annoyance, Viktor is as sure as ever when he says, "I disagree."
Yuuri finally turns to look at him, meeting his eyes with a guarded expression. A wrinkle appears between Yuuri's brows when Viktor smiles in response.
"Morality," Yuuri says, "might be as new as human philosophy. Moral conscience is as old as the first social species. They can... feel, when they do something wrong. Their sense of justice and fairness, the aversion to causing harm. Before customs and rules and systems. This innate sense of theirs is very flawed, but... this place... I thought if I needed insight, this would be the place to look."
"Sounds practiced," Viktor says with careful cold amusement, not bothering to keep the irritation from his tone. "What have you decided?"
"How do you know I have?"
"If you haven't, why call me here?"
"I made you a promise," Yuuri says and looks down at a part of the landscape Viktor is too far back to see.
"So you would have wanted to take longer," Viktor accuses, perfectly aware that he's being unfair.
Guilty, Yuuri wilts. He glances at Viktor, uncertain, before he sighs and stand to walk over.
Viktor tries to keep his expression as calm as possible and he almost expects Yuuri to comment on it. In other situations Yuuri might have squished Viktor's cheeks, spoiling the act and forcing him to drop it. Emphasizing how much he hates it with an exaggerated frown. Now, thankfully, Yuuri just looks into his eyes, searching.
When he reaches to touch Viktor's cheek, it makes Viktor's heart stutter in his chest. Makes him draw a sharp, shuddering breath. Something changes and clears in Yuuri's expression.
"It goes against everything I've learned," Yuuri whispers, "but I can't bring myself to see this as wrong."
Viktor's smile dissolves into a relieved sigh and he closes his eyes, letting the affection in Yuuri's voice sink in and soothe him, wash away the fear that he'd been carrying for weeks. It's suddenly so much easier to breathe. He leans into that touch, lips brushing the base of Yuuri's palm, his hand rising to rest over Yuuri's and keep it close.
"This isn't wrong, Yuuri," he says with an unintended note of pleading.
"No," Yuuri says, his voice soft and unsteady and so reassuring, "it isn't."
Yuuri rises on tiptoes to kiss him deeply and it tastes every bit as good as Viktor remembers. The air leaves his lungs in a rush and he melts, wrapping himself around Yuuri, arms circling his waist.
No matter how he looks at their relationship — the idea is sweet. There's a kindness in this, in them. Of course Yuuri can see it too.
Now Yuuri's arms wrap around his neck, his smaller form both solid and soft under Viktor's hands. Tender, chapped lips move against his as they lean into the press of their bodies, into each other's warmth.
Yuuri's eyes are still closed when they break the kiss and pause to breathe. Stroking his cheekbone, Viktor marvels at the traces of the pink blush he missed. For the first time in weeks, he can let every bit of the wonder he feels show in his expression, and he luxuriates in this freedom.
"I'm so sorry I made you wait," Yuuri says.
Viktor doesn't know what to say to that. Their time apart was excruciating and full of uncertainty, but he can't see another option even in hindsight. Yuuri needed to think, and there's nothing in this to forgive.
Yuuri opens his eyes to look at him. He must see the open adoration in Viktor's gaze, because he turns bright red and ducks his head before Viktor can properly enjoy the sight. He almost protests, but Yuuri nuzzles into his neck and kisses the soft skin there. Viktor shivers as Yuuri's fingers rise to card through his hair, ocassionally scraping his scalp gently. Viktor's hands caress the sides of Yuuri's body, occasionally brushing the edges of his open-backed shirt and touching smooth skin.
"I missed touching your hair." Yuuri whispers and his breath tickles the skin of Viktor's neck.
Amused and intoxicated with delight, Viktor says, "That's all you missed?"
"Shut up."
Trembling, still lightheaded with relief, Viktor laughs and hugs him closer. He can't think, can't focus on anything beyond his giddy happiness, beyond how right this feels.
Yuuri envelopes them both in his wings, creating a small space where only the two of them exist. Safe. Together.
"I'm here, Vitya."