Chapter Text
***May 2012, Rosemont, Illinois***
Yuuri bumped into Takeshi’s broad back as the older teen came to a sudden stop, transfixed by the booth ahead of them.
“Whoa… ” Takeshi breathed out, drawing Yuuko’s attention up from her phone. Yuuri shuffled around his friends, catching a glimpse of the wares that had caught Takeshi’s eye. He couldn’t help the tiny giggle that escaped his throat. Yuuko was less amused.
“Are. You. Serious?” she asked with deadly calm, her gaze fixed on the buxom figures printed on the body length pillows.
“What? I’m just admiring the art!” Takeshi protested, wincing when Yuuko smacked his bicep before pushing her way through the crowd and heading further down the aisle.
Yuuri was choking on his laughter now, avoiding Takeshi’s glare as he moved to follow Yuuko past the rows of mass-produced souvenirs as they neared the Artists’ Alley. “Takeshi wants a waifu,” he finally managed to snort out in a teasing sing-song, earning a shove from the larger boy. Yuuko glanced back at them, rolling her eyes before continuing forward.
“If you two idiots are done,” she drawled, “I want to look at the art, like we’re supposed to be doing. You can drool over anime boobs later.” She fixed her glare on Takeshi before stalking towards a booth touting an original comic series. Yuuri couldn’t help a tiny smirk, earning him another shove before Takeshi trailed after Yuuko.
Shaking his head, Yuuri turned away, drifting towards a small crowd surrounding a table across the aisle. Nudging his way through the cluster of teens, he finally found what must surely be the source of the excitement. Laid out neatly on the table were adorable prints and framed original sketches of a fluffy cartoon poodle, mixed in with a handful of clever interpretations of some of the more popular anime series. The crowd was buying an even mix of the artwork, eagerly handing their cash off to…
Him.
The artist was in his late teens, blue eyes bright and sparkling as he smiled up at the girl currently paying him. His hair was long and fine, an unusual shade of ash blond that sparkled almost silver in the fluorescent lighting of the convention center. The older boy glanced over at Yuuri curiously, and he suddenly realized he’d been standing there staring at the artist for quite some time.
“Would you like to buy something?” the silver-haired teen queried politely, watching Yuuri with a soft, heart-shaped smile.
“Oh, ah, um...” Yuuri scanned the table frantically, snatching up one of the cute poodle prints in a panic. “This please!” he yelped, part of his mind noting the way the artist’s smile widened.
“Of course! Would you like me to sign it?”
Yuuri stammered out an affirmative, passing over the cash in exchange for the signed print. The artist’s hand brushed against his and he flushed, backing away hastily, his prize clutched in his shaking grip.
Victor N (̨̡ ‾᷄♡”)̧̢ was scrawled in the corner of the print.
Cute , he thought, though he’d have been hard-pressed to explain if he meant the print, the signature, or the artist.
***January 2014, Columbus, Ohio***
Yuuri nervously straightened the tablecloth covering his rickety, convention issued table, trying not to feel too anxious at the slim glass wall at his back. The Alley was situated in a balcony overlooking the Exhibitor’s Hall, and he couldn’t quite shake the fear that he was going to somehow topple backwards over the wall and onto the sword dealer’s booth that was already blaring music below him.
Probably not the best mindset to start the weekend.
Still, he couldn’t help a twinge of excitement as he perused the activity in the hall. It had taken nearly two years, and dozens of applications, but he finally had his first convention table. Well, half of a convention table. The six-foot space was split very carefully between his and Yuuko’s work: her bright, photo-realistic still lifes and portrait-commission samples clashing slightly with Yuuri’s manga-inspired comics, buttons and prints. Two stacks of handmade business cards were placed neatly at the front of the table, hopeful slips of paper emblazoned with their names and fledgling websites, waiting for passers-by to be interested enough to take them.
Somewhat to his surprise, one such passerby appeared to be standing there now, glancing over the spread of artwork with an approving nod as he ticked something off on the clipboard clutched in his hand.
“Ah, is… everything alright?” Yuuri asked hesitantly after exchanging a wide-eyed glance with Yuuko.
The young man raised an eyebrow, glancing up at Yuuri before his hazel eyes widened in delight. “Oh, yes, everything is quite alright, sweetheart. Are you Katsuki or Takahashi?”
“Oh, um, Katsuki. Yuuri Katsuki. And this is my best friend, Yuuko Takahashi.”
The other man, who appeared to be a year or two older, grinned as he extended his hand to both of the young artists. “Christophe Giacometti, humble Alley volunteer. Believe me, the pleasure is entirely mine.”
Yuuri giggled nervously at the man’s flirtatious tone. Yuuko elbowed his side with an exasperated sigh. “Sorry, Christophe. This is our first time in the Alley, I think Yuuri was just curious about the clipboard?”
“Ah, yes, sorry, loves. Just checking over your delightful wares. Mr. Karpisek wants to be quite thorough about our no fan art policy here in the Alley, but there doesn’t seem to be anything to worry about with you two! All original, hmmm?”
“Right!” Yuuko chirped, “but isn’t that kind of an unusual policy for an anime convention?”
Christophe shrugged languidly. “Hmm, perhaps. Fan art is quite popular and there are a good many talented artists who produce lovely works, but our higher ups decided to focus on original work in our Alley. But if you’re looking to pick anything up, there are several well-known fan artists down in the Exhibitors’ Hall!”
“Oh, ah, no, no, that’s alright!” Yuuri stammered, flailing his hands in front of his face. “I was just curious!”
Yuuko hummed, then smirked conspiratorially in Christophe’s direction. “Guess that means Victor won’t be up here with us, then, hmmm?”
“Oh ho, Nikiforov fans, then?” the tall blond exclaimed. “No, a shame, but Vic hasn’t tabled here in years. He used to be an Alley staple, but…” he trailed off delicately.
Yuuri found himself leaning in from across the table. “But…?” he queried breathlessly.
Christophe grinned brightly down at him. “That, darling, is a story for later.” He raised a dark brow, stark against the contrast of his bleached curls. “Perhaps after the Alley closes, you might join a few of us for a little hotel bash tonight? We can gossip then! I think you’d enjoy it.”
Yuuko reached for Yuuri’s hand under the table it, squeezing it tightly. “Oh, we’d love to…but…my boyfriend is here, too. Um, can he join us?”
Christophe’s grin widened as if he found something terribly promising in Yuuko’s innocent words. “Oh, yes, I insist, you must bring your boyfriend. I’ll make sure to keep our dear Yuuri company.” He winked broadly, then suddenly glanced over his shoulder, catching a glare from an older bald man standing behind the Alley Ops table. “Goodness, how time flies when you’re having fun! I’ll pop by later with details, hmmm?” Before either artist could respond, the Alley volunteer had twiddled his fingers in a farewell, brandishing his clipboard as he moved on to the next table.
Yuuko bounced at his side as Yuuri watched Christophe leave. “Ohhhhhmyyyygod he likes you!” she squeaked under her breath. Yuuri slumped over the table, fidgeting awkwardly with the tiny rainbow pin that he’d nervously affixed to his cardigan that morning. His friends and family in his little neighborhood on the northern outskirts of Detroit had been supportive (and largely unsurprised) when he came out last year, but he was still a little nervous outside of his home town. Still, being flirted with quite so blatantly by another boy was something of a novel experience.
“Sooooo, do you want to go to this party?” Yuuko asked innocently, her phone already pulled out, Takeshi’s contact info on the screen.
Yuuri fidgeted nervously, tugging at the cuffs of his sweater. “I mean… maybe? It’d be nice to meet some people but…we promised to behave…”
Yuuko rolled her eyes. “Oh, c’moooonnnn, Yuuri! It’s a bunch of convention volunteers and amateur artists. There’ll be, like, Smirnoff Ice and a bottle of some shitty, flavored vodka. How bad can it possibly be?”
***
The answer, as it turned out, was kind of bad. Yuuri leaned against the window, nursing a slightly warm bottle of something overly sweet as his eyes flickered anxiously over the crowded room, desperately looking for either Yuuko or Takeshi.
“Here, darling, try this instead. Nobody should be forced to tolerate such mediocrity.”
Yuuri blinked up in surprise as a cold drink was pressed into his free hand. Christophe smiled down at him, sipping calmly at his own drink as he waited to see if Yuuri would take the offered beverage. He looked over again to the dark corner where Yuuko and Takeshi had disappeared and, throwing caution to the wind, closed his hand around the cool plastic cup. He took a judicious sip, pleasantly surprised at the tart, crisp taste.
“You struck me as a gimlet sort of fellow,” Christophe offered with another teasing grin, hazel eyes darting over the crowded party. “Now, tell me why a talented boy like you is hiding off in a dark corner. I’m sure half the people here are dying to get to know you.”
Yuuri shrugged, reluctant to talk, but feeling like he owed some sort of social dues in thanks for both the invite and the drink.
“Bad first day, love?”
Another shrug.
“Let me guess. A lot of folks stopped, looked, offered their praise, took a card, then walked away without buying anything?”
Yuuri finally looked up, nodding cautiously before taking another sip of the drink Christophe had given him. It had gotten to him, the way so many people had passed by without a glance, the way the few people who had stopped had so often walked away without making a purchase. Only a handful of his prints had sold, and he knew Yuuko hadn’t fared any better.
Christophe chuckled. “Classic. It’s only been a few weeks since Christmas. Most of the people here are high school or college students, which you probably already noticed.” He paused, winking conspiratorially at the younger boy. “Folks are going to be a little cautious with their money on the first day of the Con. Don’t take it to heart. I was at your booth, you’ve got serious talent, ah…Yuuri, was it?”
He blinked, surprised at the genuine kindness in the words. “Yuuri, yes. Um, thank you, Christophe.”
The taller boy laughed, his hazel eyes twinkling. “Please, cher. My friends call me Chris.”
***August 2014, Baltimore, Maryland***
“Fancy meeting you here, darling!” purred a deep voice from across the table. Yuuri perked up, exhaustion fading at the excitement of finally seeing a friendly face.
“Chris!” he cheered, forgetting for a moment to be embarrassed at his exuberance. The older teen had become a good friend in the months since their encounter back in Ohio. And speaking of Ohio... “Shouldn’t you be manning your Convention recruitment booth?”
Chris waved a negligent hand. “Plenty of volunteers, darling. I’ve got more free time than I know what to do with.” He nudged his hip onto the edge of Yuuri’s table. “Fancy a booth babe?”
Yuuri rolled his eyes, having grown used to Chris’s flirtatious mannerisms. “As if you’d actually be able to focus long enough to make a sale.”
Chris laughed, a full, rich sound that echoed despite the crowded space. “So, you’ll text me if you need a bathroom break?”
“I suppose I can trust you with that,” Yuuri laughed. “Thanks, Chris. It’s good to see you.”
“Likewise, love,” Chris crooned with a warm smile. “And, ah…I hesitate to point it out for entirely selfish reasons…but you know that he’s here, hmm?”
Yuuri bit his lip, trying to hide his blush. “Oh, ahm, Victor Nikiforov, you mean?”
Chris eyed him knowingly. “Yes, doll , Victor. Or Nikiforov Arts as he’s apparently listed in the program now. They’re a bit less strict in the Alley here when it comes to table content.”
Yuuri felt himself bristling at his friend’s barely veiled censure. “Victor’s talented, he deserves to be here.”
Chris blinked down at him in surprise. “Didn’t say he wasn’t talented, darling. In fact, I’m one of his biggest fans. Just… I miss his older work, is all. If I can be blunt…you’re adorable and deliciously talented, but I think the first thing that drew me to you was that you remind me a bit of his early work.”
Yuuri could feel the blush as it colored his face. “That’s… I don’t… I mean…”
Chris chortled softly at his friend’s confusion. “Oh, sweetling, I didn’t mean to make you nervous. Vic’s a good friend of mine, you know? I’m just being honest is all! I think it’s charming, honestly, your little fan worship.”
“That’s, I’m not, it isn’t like that…” Yuuri spluttered, much to Chris’s amusement.
“Of course, darling. So I suppose you don’t want to come to the hotel party I’m hosting? Victor’ll be there so I’m sure it won’t interest you…”
Yuuri glared from across the table. “I don’t even like you anymore.”
Chris merely smirked at him, shifting his hip into a more comfortable position on Yuuri’s table. “Con hotel, room 406, 10:00 p.m.”
Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Fine. But you get to provide the alcohol.”
“Deal.”
***
Not for the first time that day, Yuuri found himself desperately wishing that Yuuko had been able to make the trip up to Baltimore with him. Costs were higher without his tablemate, true, but the down hours when traffic was slow were a lot lonelier without someone to talk to.
Although, if Yuuri were to be honest, he’d have to admit that the down hours weren’t nearly as bad as they’d been back in Ohio. He’d had a steady trickle of people stopping by his booth.
A surprising number of them even bought things.
He didn’t want to get ahead of himself, but if Saturday and Sunday were as busy, he might even manage to squeeze out a tiny profit after he covered the costs of the table, the gas and his six-way split on the hotel room he was sharing with a handful of internet acquaintances.
Best of all, he’d even managed to stop at the Nikiforov Arts booth while Chris watched his table. He’d been hoping for more of the cute poodle art, but the splashy high-quality print from his current favorite anime was okay, too. Sadly, Victor hadn’t been at the booth. He’d hesitated to make the purchase without getting a signature, but the curvy brunette manning the booth had pointed out the popularity of the print and he’d hurried to hand over the cash before it sold out.
He could probably get Victor to sign it later, he reasoned.
His stomach grumbled and he dug a granola bar out of his shoulder bag as he made his way through the convention crowds to get to Chris’s room. In an attempt to be frugal, he’d packed an assortment of dried foods, but he’d promised himself a crab cake before he had to go home. Who knew if he’d be lucky enough to get a table in the Alley lottery next year? He might never visit Baltimore again, he had to take advantage of this opportunity while he could!
And speaking of opportunities…
Yuuri hesitated outside the room Chris had indicated, swallowing the last of his granola nervously. He could hear the rumble of chattering voices from the hallway, the party apparently already in full swing. Screwing up his courage, he knocked tentatively, the door creaking open to reveal the Alley volunteer who’d handled his check-in paperwork this morning.
“Oh! Katsuki, right? Chris mentioned he’d invited you,” the girl chirped. “C’mon in!” she offered, standing back to let Yuuri into the room. “Chris!” she shouted, “Your artist pal is here!”
The girl waved as she wandered back over to the makeshift bar set up by the window, punching Chris’s shoulder as she passed him. The tall blond wrapped Yuuri in a borderline inappropriate hug, his hands sneaking down a bit too low. Yuuri just rolled his eyes, already used to Chris’s flirtatious manner despite how few times they’d seen each other in person.
Chris finally pulled back with a grin after lingering a bit too long. “So? A drink, then?”
“God, yes. I need one if I have to put up with you all night,” Yuuri deadpanned, much to Chris’s delight.
“Oooooh, darling, you are getting sassy! I like sassy!”
“You like anything that moves,” Yuuri teased back as Chris worked to efficiently mix a pair of drinks in the ubiquitous red Solo cups.
The blond handed him a cup, toasting him mockingly before they both took a gulp. “I was surprised not to see Yuuko with you. Thought you two were practically joined at the hip.”
Yuuri winced, taking a long sip of his drink. “Ahhh, she’s taking a break from traveling for a bit.” He hesitated, then finished his drink in one long pull. “She’s, uh, getting married actually.”
Chris took his cup, refilling it without asking. “I see. And is that the type of getting married that’s gonna hinder travel for a while?”
Yuuri shrugged, feeling a little guilty talking about his friend without her permission. “She’s happy. That’s the important part. And she’s going to start taking online classes at Wayne State, start working towards her teaching license. She’d like to be an art teacher someday.”
“And what about you, Yuuri Katsuki? You graduated—what’s the next step? Full time on the convention circuit? College? A spot of romance perhaps?” Chris waggled his eyebrows in a ridiculously lascivious fashion, drawing a sputtering laugh from the artist.
“Why am I not surprised to find you hovering near the alcohol, rambling about romance with some pretty young artist,” drawled a low voice.
Yuuri turned, startled, eyes widening at the tall young man that had joined them, Artist badge still hanging from his neck. The silvery blond hair and icy blue eyes were just like he remembered, though he’d traded the lanky, boyish frame for broad shoulders and a strong jawline.
“Ah, Vic darling, I wasn’t sure you’d be joining us. Won’t you say hello to my friend Yuuri? He’s an artist as well,” Chris practically purred, passing over a cup that Yuuri hadn’t even noticed him preparing.
Victor took it with a grimace. “I told you I’d be here,” he said bluntly, not even glancing in Yuuri’s direction. Which… ouch.
“Mmm, yes, well, a little birdy told me that Anya was solo at your rather pricey premium booth nearly the whole day. If you can blow off your table, why not my teeny ol’ party?” There was a strange quality to Chris’s voice, something brittle and tense that Yuuri had never heard from his friend before.
“Is that birdy named Georgi?” Victor replied, sounding almost bored as he moved to refill his already empty cup. “Anya’s being paid to help at my booth, not to spend time on his ridiculously costumed arm. Besides, I had other things to do and sales were fine without me.” Despite his bored tone, his eyes had narrowed and there was a tension in his jaw that hadn’t been there earlier. Feeling a bit like he was eavesdropping, Yuuri slipped away, freshly refilled cup in hand, his mind racing.
***
The party swirled around him and Yuuri found himself drawn into clusters of chattering artists and convention crew. Gossip flowed almost as freely as the alcohol, nobody seeming to mind that the majority of the partiers were underage, or that most of them would have to be up early the next morning to make it to the opening of the convention. He wasn’t quite sure how many drinks he’d downed by the time he found himself stumbling and catching himself against a set of broad shoulders and…
Oh. Shit.
Victor Nikiforov looked less than amused to be holding him up, his nose scrunched in annoyance at the alcohol now splashed down his obviously expensive shirt.
“Oh. Oh my god, I… I’m so sorry… I… I can pay for that…” Yuuri stammered out in horror. He frantically patted at his pocket, finally pulling one of his cards out of the back pocket of his jeans and offering it to the older artist.
Victor barely glanced at it before he straightened, brushing his long hair off his shoulder with a nonchalant shrug as he tucked the card into his pocket. “No matter, it’s the end of the night and I’m pretty sure that’s about 90% vodka, so I doubt it’ll stain. If it does, guess I have an excuse to go shopping, hm?” He flashed a wide grin down at Yuuri and, to cap it off, finished with a breezy wink. It was undeniably hot, but Yuuri couldn’t help remembering the soft smile Victor had offered him years ago.
“So, Christophe seems to think you’re a fan,” Victor continued, moving past the awkwardness of the collision and straight into a whole new plane of panic-inducing conversation. “What’s your favorite franchise? I can be sure to save something for a fellow artist.”
Again, with that damned fake wink.
“Actually, I already bought a print, but you weren’t there,” Yuuri pointed out bluntly before turning to make his way back towards the drinks table. To his surprise, Victor followed him.
“So, you are a fan,” the older artist said with a smirk. “Should I sign it for you? Or…perhaps a commemorative photo?” Victor's voice was low, flirty... calculating.
A few hours ago, Yuuri would have jumped at the chance. Now… what was that old saying? Oh. Right.
Never meet your heroes.
“I’m good,” he replied, fishing for one of long-neck bottles drowning in the tub of rapidly melting ice. Cracking the cap, he turned back, meeting Victor’s surprised eyes with a bravery fueled by vodka and beer. “I liked your original work better, anyways.”
Victor flinched as if he’d been struck, his eyes widening in something akin to shock before narrowing again. “Let me guess, you’re, what, 16? First time lucking into a lottery table? This isn’t a hobby for some of us. Art school is expensive, kid, and mom and dad don’t pay my bills anymore. Fanart sells.”
“I’m almost 18,” Yuuri whispered, his bravado all but gone in the face of Victor’s sudden ire. A sudden hand on his shoulder stilled any further words.
“It’s not his first show, Vic,” Chris’s deep voice pointed out quietly. “He made it into my Alley, and you know that’s not a lottery. No luck involved.”
“Juried Alley. No fan art. Yes, I’m aware Chris. Hence why I wasn’t there.”
“You have more than enough talent and original work to get into that Alley and you know it!”
Yuuri suddenly had the sinking suspicion that he’d landed smack in the middle of an ongoing disagreement. Nervously, he began backing away from the table, allowing Chris’s hand to drop from his shoulder.
“Y’know, I’m getting damned tired of you and every amateur artist with a Wacom Tablet and a printer thinking that they know how I should run my booth! What I do sells. It pays my fucking bills! Get off your high horse!” Victor turned, shaking, and for a moment Yuuri thought that he saw something other than anger in the older artist’s eyes. Something miserable and hurt…but it was gone in a flash. Victor seemed to sense that Yuuri was staring, because he turned and narrowed his eyes. “And you don’t get to judge me either, kid. Sorry that I can’t be who you expected,” Victor hissed.
It was Yuuri’s turn to flinch, shocked at the unexpected vitriol. To his horror, he felt tears beginning to form, half angry, half hurt. He dashed his hand across his face, trying to hide them.
“Ah, shit, kid, I didn’t mean that…”
Yuuri glanced up, surprised to find Victor looking at him in stricken remorse before Chris intervened.
“Okay. That’s it. Out, Nikiforov,” the tall blond snapped. “There’s only room for one diva at this party, and you are not going to be it. I don’t need you treating my friends like shit just because you’re the Alley’s hot shot.”
“Chris, I’m sorry, I didn’t…”
Chris crossed his arms with a glare. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”
Victor slammed his drink down on the edge of the table. “Fine. Good night, Christophe.”
“Nikiforov,” Chris acknowledged curtly.
Without another word, Victor made his way out of the crowded room, more than a few pairs of eyes following him before the room erupted in a flurry of whispered conversations.
Yuuri watched the door close, knowing something had changed, knowing that conventions would never be the same for him.