Chapter Text
Otabek looked around. He had been having the same nightmare since the accident happened. He knew it by heart, and yet he always followed the same steps. Like a choreography he had no control over. Like his body wasn't his, despite what his brain told him.
He didn’t want to, he desperately wanted to refuse to play along his brain’s twisted games. To fight back. To run away the opposite direction and into a different dream; one that wouldn’t leave him exhausted and secluded in his own mind in the morning...
But he couldn’t.
Instead, his body moved forwards in the darkness, towards the car that waited for him amid the shadows.
He held tight onto the guitar that rested heavy in his arms, pulling it close to his chest in anticipation of what he knew would be waiting for him inside the broken windows and smashed windshield.
He clutched onto the strings tight. Tighter. Tried to close his eyes to no avail: his eyelids were see-through. Tried to turn his head away, until--
Twang.
Snap.
His attention shifted from the dreaded driver's seat to the broken string, a heavy feeling setting in the pit of his stomach.
〜❆〜
[Plisetsky, Yuri. Age 17.]
“Yuri, do you wanna go shoot some hoops?” Emil asked, already holding a ball and wearing a grin on his face.
Yuri gave him a tired look, then yawned. “No, I'm taking a nap.”
“Ah,” Emil slouched a little. “So you're skipping 5th period?”
“Yeah, take notes for me, will you?” He asked, already walking away before his classmate had a chance to answer.
He waded through the mass of students out of the main building and into the courtyard, slipping past the gym and declining the offers to join the matches that were already going on.
Yuri had recently found a nice spot to nap at lunch time. No one ever went there and he could curl up in the sunlight like a cat. It was so nice he often didn't even hear the bell ring and ended up sleeping through half of 5th period.
He walked over to the stairs and stopped in his tracks. His nice sunny spot was...
Taken.
There was a kid already laying down on the break of the steps with an unreadable expression. His brow was heavy on top of his closed eyes, not quite frowning, but clearly showing that whatever dream he was having wasn't a pleasant one. The sour expression on his handsome features left Yuri wondering if he should wake him up.
But the weirdest thing was that he was holding a guitar as if it were a stuffed animal.
Yuri stared, unsure of what to do. Then the kid opened his eyes and stared back. Yuri recognized him from a different class, but his name escaped him.
The guy scooted to the side and nodded at Yuri, still holding his guitar like a shield. Yuri took it as an invitation, so he sat down next to the wall.
“If you want me to sit here, why don't you just say so like a normal person? You're kinda creeping me out.” Yuri said, trying to fill the weird silence stretching between them. “Whatever, I'm too tired to care.”
The kid said nothing, instead turning to look at Yuri from behind the neck of his guitar. Yuri pressed his lips into a thin line before clicking his tongue.
“Those strings are way too old, I'm sure that's why one snapped.” He said, ignoring the way the boy's eyes widened at his words. “Why get a Gibson if you can't even do basic maintenance?” Yuri shook his head. “At least you didn't use ducktape to fix it. You should change them, it's such a waste to have that nice guitar be unplayable for so long, I'm almost offended on its behalf.”
“You can fix it?” The guy asked, startling Yuri. He wasn't expecting him to actually speak, let alone lean so close to him. “Can you fix it?” The guy asked again, thoughtfully stroking the broken string. His voice was flat, monotone, and quiet enough that if he weren’t so close, Yuri would’ve thought he was just mumbling. There was something about his voice that left Yuri wanting to hear more, though; to know what else he had to say.
Yuri leaned against the wall as the guy's shining eyes pinned him in place.
“Duh!” Yuri said, offended the guy questioned his abilities to perform such a basic thing. Yuri, who had played guitar since his last year of elementary and had been in a band since middle school: unable to change a string? Ridiculous. “Also, you're too close.”
“Really? Can you fix it now?”
Yuri frowned, puzzled by the guy's sudden change in energy. His voice was so monotone it almost clashed with him being so pushy.
“Right now?”
“Yeah.”
“No,” Yuri stuttered, trying in vain to become one with the wall. “Today's kind of...”
Yuri turned to look at the boy, who had suddenly gone quiet again. He was slumped forward, and looked like Yuri had just told him his dog had been run over by a car. He watched as the guy slumped more and more, hugging his guitar like it was his only source of comfort in those trying times, until his chin was hooked on the body of the instrument.
“Hey... Don't look like the guitar's got a terminal illness, it's just a string...”
The guy didn't even look at him, and Yuri clenched his jaw, annoyed that his lunchtime nap had turned into this.
He stood up with a groan. “Fine!”
Yuri ran to his classroom, rummaging through the pockets of his own guitar case for his materials to fix the strings of the silent kid's guitar, then he ran back to the stairs behind the gym.
He snatched the guitar from the guy and placed it on his lap. “Just give me back my nap time!” He said as he cut the strings. “And stop looking like someone will die because of a broken string! Show me some appreciation! These things are expensive, so clap or something!”
He didn't expect the guy to actually start clapping on command, but he did, which only served to irk Yuri even more.
“Not yet! At least wait until I change all of them!” He huffed, starting to thread the strings and pull the pegs until they were taut. “Just look happier, I don't know. And pay me for the strings.”
When he finished threading the strings, Yuri shifted the pegs a little, realizing he hadn't brought his tuner around, but completely unwilling to run back for it. He had already done more than enough and this kid should be able to easily tune it himself. That was the most basic thing to do.
Yuri realized that he had never even held a guitar this expensive; his own guitar had been handed down from his grandpa.
He plucked at the strings, adjusting them one by one until he was sure they were close enough to pass as properly tuned, then he strummed them. It was a simple chord, basic, no great mystery to it at all, but even with that, the kid shot upright, placing his hands firmly on Yuri's shoulders and leaning in.
“Teach me.” He said, loud enough to startle Yuri.
Yuri stared at him, still not used to the continuous stream of surprises from this guy and his dumb guitar.
“Huh?” Was all he managed to vocalize.
“Teach me how to play like you did!”
Yuri's brows furrowed. Like he just did? What bullshit! Anyone could do a C chord, he could even look it up online if he wanted to; there was no real need to know how to play in order to do a C chord. Which meant that the guy truly didn't know shit about guitars, which made it even more confusing as to why he'd own a guitar worth more than 20 thousand motherfucking dollars.
Yuri looked down at the guitar. A Gibson ES-335. This guy had to be either rich, or very lucky to be handed down such a jackpot. And he was fairly sure that this guy didn't know what a semi hollow body was. He probably didn't even know he owned such an iconic cornerstone of Rock and Roll and Blues.
He scrunched his face, knowing he wasn’t being entirely fair. Of course Yuri didn't start by knowing everything there was to know about guitars. His sister made fun of his awful beginner skills plenty of times, and it wasn't until he started high school that he was able to achieve the kind of sound he had imagined.
Sure, he was no Keith Richards, and he had nothing on Tom Yorke, but the more he played, the more he lost some of the initial spark that had caused him to completely immerse himself in the music to start with. He hadn't really found playing guitar a challenge in a while, it was just something he did on muscle memory alone, and while it made it easier to play nicely, it was a little... Boring.
He sighed, remembering his own freak out the first time he broke the strings of his grandfather's guitar. He had nearly cried as well, and he wouldn't really be surprised if the kid had actually cried himself. Although it was hard to imagine such a cool looking guy crying over a broken string.
~♪~
The next day, Yuri dodged Emil's requests again and made his way to his usual spot, surprised to find Broken String Kid (as he had been referring to him in his head) once again sitting on his spot.
“Hey,” Yuri said, gently nudging him with his foot. He intended to ask the guy to move, but was interrupted by a pair of steely eyes looking at him. The kid gave him what Yuri assumed to be a smile, but made something uncomfortable stir inside his stomach.
“Yuri.” He said.
Yuri didn't remember introducing himself, but didn't dwell on it, because the guy was already rummaging through his guitar case. He presented Yuri with a 10 dollar bill.
“Thank you so much for yesterday.”
Yuri took it. He needed to buy more spare strings, so it was only fair.
The guy pulled another 10 dollar bill and held it out to Yuri.
“Please teach me to play guitar.”
Yuri's shoulders slumped. Ah, so there was a catch. This time Yuri refused to accept the bill, against his greedy impulses to take it as well.
“No, I don't want your money.” He lied, sitting down and scratching his head.
“Then, please.” The guy said, holding out a piece of bread. Now Yuri wasn't sure if he should be offended at being offered food in exchange for guitar lessons, but he ignored the grumbling of his stomach, shook his head and crossed his arms.
“Money or food, I don't care. I'm not teaching you anything. I don't give classes, I don't know how. Teach yourself, it's not impossible. Hell I taught myself! Or, I don't know, join the music club? Maybe you can even set up a band with them.”
Yuri laid down and turned away from the guy, fully intending on basking in the sunlight and make up for yesterday's lost nap.
“A band?”
Yuri tensed.
“Do you really not know what a band is? You're really hopeless if that's the case; even people who don't play know what a damn band is. If you don't want to play in a band why do you even have a guitar in the first place?”
The guy slumped, so Yuri sat upright.
“Hey now! Don't get all gloomy on me, what the fuck? It's fine if you want to be a solo artist or whatever, though that's kinda lame. Bands are cooler.” Yuri didn't say that because he himself was in a band; it was just a universal truth that bands were cooler than solo singers.
“Are you... In a band?” The guy asked.
“Well, yeah.”
Finally, the guy straightened up, looking at Yuri with big doe eyes that made Yuri freeze on the spot. He didn't even know why, but he didn't want those eyes to look away from him.
“Can I watch you play?”
Yuri's eyes widened. He refused over and over, giving him enough excuses to convince an entire stadium of people to get up and leave. Even when the guy didn't keep pressing, Yuri kept insisting that no, no he couldn't. And yet...
“Who's that?” Christophe asked, already sitting behind the drumset.
“He's like a stray puppy!” Yuri groaned. “He followed me here all the way from school, I couldn't lose him! I only changed his strings!”
“I don't follow.” Chris said, clearly amused by Yuri's conflict.
“Hey, don't just stand there, at the very least introduce yourself to Chris!” Yuri stood to the side, pushing Otabek forward and hoping that it wasn't too obvious that he still didn't know the guy's name. “I know he doesn't look very smart, but Chris is very nice, so go ahead.”
“Hey, sorry I'm late.” Viktor said, walking in without a second thought. He stopped on his tracks and looked at the guy curiously. “Who are you?”
“Who's that?” The guy asked Yuri, who was busy glaring daggers at Viktor for his tardiness.
“That's our irresponsible bassist, Viktor. Now come on! We're all here!”
“Nice to meet you.” The guy said, nodding once.
Viktor leaned close to Christophe, whispering as he looked at the two teenagers.
“What's going on, now?”
“Beats me, Yura brought him over from school. You know our Little Tiger is capricious.”
“I do, that's why I'm surprised… I didn’t even know he had friends at school.”
“Stop whispering you pair of grandpas!”
The two men gasped in unison. “We're not old!”
“Your name.” Yuri said, turning to the guy with a frown. “You haven't told them your name.”
“I'm Otabek Altin. I came to watch and learn.” The guy said when Yuri nudged him again.
He couldn't have said anything more fitting to stroke Viktor and Christophe's egos, and Yuri regretted making him talk.
“Watch and...” Viktor trailed off.
“Learn.” Christophe completed for him, turning to the older man and pointing at him. Viktor pointed back.
Suddenly both of them were smoothing their hair and fixing their clothes, posing as if they were to appear on the cover of a magazine.
“In that case, we'll give you a show you won't forget, Little Otabek.” Viktor said.
“I guess we have no choice,” Chris added. “But to show you our natural skills.”
“What? Are you guys serious right now?” Yuri sprung forward, walking close to his bandmates and out of Otabek’s earshot.
“Huh? It's fine, it's not like we haven't performed in front of people before.” Viktor said, cocking his head to the side.
“We've won competitions, Yura. I'm confident we'll blow the guy's mind.”
“He knows nothing of music! He's probably expecting studio levels of quality! He probably doesn't know what mixing and pitch correction are, or that the instruments also get it done!” Yuri hissed.
That seemed to do the trick, since Chris and Viktor turned to each other before going into near panic.
“That requires godly levels of skill!”
“No matter what we do, we'd have to jump through hoops for this kid!”
“Just how bad do you want to impress him?” Yuri groaned, connecting his guitar to the amp and slinging the strap over his shoulder. “Who cares, let's just play like we usually do.”
“No, that just won't do.” Viktor said, mirroring Yuri with his bass and turning to Chris.
“That won't do.” Chris agreed. “We gotta leave him Thunderstruck, like Brian Johnson.”
“Nice one!” Viktor beamed.
“Ugh, you're such old men.” Yuri groaned.
“What? Come on, it’s a classic! You love AC/DC.”
Yuri rolled his eyes and turned to Otabek. “Hey, what was your name again?” Shielded by his guitar and backed by his band, Yuri could feel his own walls crumble down.
“Otabek Altin.”
“Otabek, what do you like on the guitar?” At Otabek's confused blinking, Yuri sighed. “What do you want to listen to? We're playing for you, I mean.”
Otabek nodded, looked at the floor with a frown, then looked up at Yuri with a determined look. “Something cool.”
Yuri felt his eye twitch. “That's... Way too subjective.”
Yuri shook his head. Whatever. He was always cool when he played so he'd just play. He took the lead, starting with a strong riff that made his bandmates gape at him.
“Ooh! Someone's fired up!” Viktor hummed, glancing at Chris with a smirk. “You ready?”
“Bring it!”
They played like they hadn't played in a while. It didn't go under anyone's radar that perhaps the strange Broken String Kid named Otabek was exactly what Yuri needed to revive his performance.
Yuri didn’t try hiding how proud he was to see Otabek's awestruck expression after their song was over.
“So, what did you think, Beks?” Chris asked, drying the sweat of his forehead with his shoulder.
“Cool, wasn't it?” Viktor prompted, fixing his long bangs and remaking his low bun. “We're pretty popular already. You're lucky you got to see a private sesh for free; we don’t usually take requests.”
Otabek nodded. “It was cool.” He said, much too flat for Yuri’s taste.
“At least sound like you mean it!” Yuri said, pushing his own bangs back and glaring at Otabek.
They played some more, with Otabek sitting on the floor by the speakers. Yuri wasn't sure why or how, but once practice was over he found himself walking alongside him.
“Why am I walking you to the train station, again?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck, then adjusting the straps of his guitar case over his shoulders. “Hey, are you even listening to me? Did you go deaf from sitting next to the speakers? I told you not to sit there.” Yuri bit the inside of his cheek. It wasn’t like there were many other places to sit that wouldn’t have the same effect, but the silence was enough to bring out his argumentative side.
Otabek turned to Yuri, his face morphed into that determined look that made Yuri's stomach drop to his knees. “Can I come see you play again?”
Yuri felt heat slowly creeping up his cheeks, so he turned away, hoping his hair would cover his face. “No.”
“Teach me to play guitar.”
“God, aren't you stubborn!” Yuri growled. “I already told you: Go to the music club. I'm not trying to be mean, I swear. I'm saying it for your own sake. I've never taught anyone so you wouldn't learn much. Plus, you don't even listen to me now, so I'm not convinced you would listen to me at all.”
Yuri ignored the other two times Otabek asked him to teach him before they arrived at the train station. He tried to push the whole situation out of his mind as he walked into his apartment.
“You're late.” Mila said from where she was laying on the couch. “What took you so long? I’ve been waiting for you to fry the cheburekis.”
Yuri squinted at her, scowling at her scandalous choice of lounging clothes. “Why are you even wearing that? Grandpa would tell you to put on pants, jeez.” He said, shuddering at the sight of his sister's tiny pajama shorts. “Sometimes I doubt you're my sister or a girl when you sit like that. Gross.”
“Blagh, shut up and fry the thing you squirt, they're in the fridge.”
“Don't call me that, you old hag!”
He moved to the kitchen anyways, preparing a pan and the oil and taking out the food.
“...Hey, Mila. Can you remember what I was like when I started playing guitar?”
“Ah? A bunch of noise and no rhythm.”
Yuri groaned. “I should've known better than to ask you about it.” He sighed. He didn't remember much either. It would probably be a better idea to ask his grandpa when he came back from work.
He wondered if he also had that doe eyed look when he was starting to play.
The next two days at school he accepted Emil's proposal to play basketball, unwilling to give Otabek and his guitar more brain energy than he deserved. He wished he hadn’t agreed to play, though. None of his shots went into the ring, and he fell flat on his ass a few times.
“What's up, Yura? You've been out of it since yesterday.”
“Ah, I'm just...” Yuri trailed off with the excuse of wiping the sweat of his face with the inside of his shirt.
He glanced at the door that led to the stairs. He didn't want to teach such a hopeless beginner from the ground up. It sounded like too much effort and responsibility. But he was curious. He hadn't gone there since the previous day, and he was sure Otabek was waiting for him. He wasn't ready to see his kicked puppy face, but the longer he waited, the sadder Otabek would become, he was sure. For whatever reason, he didn’t want Otabek to get that gloomy look he had when Yuri refused to change his strings the first time they met.
He took a swig of water and turned to one of his classmates. “Yo, chicken nugget! Sub for me.” He said before leaving the court.
He slid through the door, unsure as to why he felt guiltier than whenever he had to leave his cat locked away for a few hours.
Otabek wasn't there.
Yuri was surprised. Of course he didn't want to take his stubbornness back and actually teach him, but something felt wrong about Otabek's sudden absence.
He didn't go there the next day, or the day after. Yuri felt like he should give up and just reclaim his napping spot, stop thinking about the guy with the sad eyes and the broken string.
But he couldn't.
Even Chris took notice when they saw each other at their part time job. For the most part, he let Yuri go around the convenience store refilling shelves without saying anything. Until the end of their shift, that was.
“Your mouth is hanging open.” He said, trying to give Yuri a crate of juice boxes to refill the shelf with, but Yuri just stood there staring at the metal. “Hey, anybody home?” He asked, knocking twice on Yuri's head. “You've been making weird faces the past few days.”
“That's just my face.” Yuri said, finally taking the juices and carefully arranging them on the shelf.
“Nah, you're usually more... Ah, how should I say it? Regal.”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, I see. Is this about that guy, what's his name? Allen, Omar, John?”
“Otabek.”
“You should talk to him. I think it would benefit you, as well.”
“Huh?” Yuri turned to look at what he refused to recognize as his friend.
“I mean, weren't you super hyped up last time we jammed for him? I haven't seen you like that in a while. It was because he was there, wasn't it? But well, I'm heading to the studio.”
Yuri watched as Chris headed over to the employee's room and blinked once, then twice, then stared at his feet.
Had he really been that different?
He hurried to fill the shelf and chased after the man. They ended up walking in silence all the way to the studio they rented.
“Sorry, we got held back at work.” Chris announced as they walked in.
“Ah! I'm glad you're here, did you get the message I sent you asking to buy me some tea, Chris?” Viktor asked. “Otabek was waiting outside when I arrived so I told him to come in.”
Yuri's eyes widened. “What?” He pushed past the two men, ducking under their arms to look at the guy with his own eyes. “You! What-- Where--”
“Hey, calm down, Yuri.” Viktor said, patting Yuri's shoulder and earning an annoyed hiss. “He wanted to show you something, didn't you, Beka?”
Otabek held out the guitar. Yuri blinked at him, unsure of what he should be looking at.
“He changed the strings by himself!” Yuri looked closer, not seeing anything noteworthy about the strings. Could he be lying? “And listen!”
Otabek strummed once, then looked at Yuri. “Is it tuned?”
Yuri bit the inside of his lip. He thought that being in a band had made him immune to thinking boys with guitars were cool, especially when they clearly didn't know what they were doing.
Clearly, he was wrong.
“Did you go to the music club?” Yuri asked.
Otabek nodded. “I did, but--” Yuri wasn’t surprised they rejected such a hopeless newbie as Otabek, but he still felt bad for the kid. “I think you're cooler.” At this, Yuri's eyes widened. He brought a hand up to cover his burning cheek and turned to the amp closer to him, suddenly fascinated by the pattern of the wood grain. “So please, teach me to play.”
This time Yuri couldn't bring himself to refuse. Instead, he sighed. Otabek took it as a win, if his pleased smile was anything to go by.
“Okay, we'll have a smoke break, then!” Chris said, standing up and practically dragging Viktor out.
“Huh? We literally just got here! If you two sang, you wouldn’t be able to hold a single note!”
Yuri groaned as the two so-called “adults” left the room, and turned to Otabek.
“Do you know the anatomy of a guitar?” He asked, groaning harder at Otabek's puzzled face as he looked down at his Gibson.
Yuri sat down and reluctantly pointed at every part of the guitar. “Look, this is the head of the guitar. These pegs right here are the tuning keys. This is the neck, this is the nut . See these ridges? They're called frets, the sections between frets are the fretboards.” Yuri paused to look at Otabek, who so far had only nodded every time Yuri had pointed at anything. “Hey, don't just nod, are you listening to me?” Otabek nodded in response. Yuri very nearly lost his grip. “Are you even understanding what I'm saying?” He yelled, screaming when Otabek simply nodded again.
After a few more attempts at teaching the rest of the parts to Otabek, and plenty of frustrated screams, Viktor and Chris walked back in.
“We're back.” Viktor hummed. “Hey! Looks like you're making progress!”
“Progress my ass, I doubt that I'm getting through to him.”
Viktor moved to kneel next to them and looked at Otabek. “Hey, Otabek. If you're serious about playing music, there's something that you must start thinking about.”
“Ah, yes. That. I'm always running out of it.” Chris nodded.
“Yes, I'd be in trouble without that.” Yuri agreed.
Otabek looked at them for a second before furrowing his eyebrows. “That?” He asked.
Viktor laughed before going completely serious, a dark aura setting around him. “Money.” He said. “You don't expect Yurochka to keep changing your strings for free, do you?”
“Money makes the world go 'round.” Chris added, equally as serious. “Rental fees, studio fees, you gotta chip in if you're stopping by with us.”
Yuri handed him the job section of a newspaper they had laying around and smirked. “Come on, pick one.”
At that point, Otabek’s eyes were wide as he held the piece of paper. He looked like he would start shaking at any minute. Yuri sympathized with him: working sucked. Still, it wasn’t that bad.
“Huh? I think we scared him.” Viktor said, noticing Otabek's distraught expression.
“It's not that bad, just pick a job.” Chris shrugged. “We’ll get you a newer newspaper next time you come over, that one’s from last month.”
“He can get it himself.” Yuri said.
〜✮〜
“You guys have been hanging around a lot lately.” Emil said when Yuri pulled out the paper bag that contained his lunch.
“Huh?” Yuri looked up, taking out the small milk carton and piercing the foil with his straw. “What do you mean you guys?” He asked, making air quotes with his left hand only.
“C’mon. That guy from the other class. What was his name? Omar? Alek?”
“Otabek?”
“Bingo. How did you guys get so close all of a sudden?”
“We’re not close.” Yuri frowned, taking a sip of his milk and digging through the bag for a syrniki.
“You haven’t been hanging out with us lately because you’re having lunch with him, right?” Emil tried to take one of the small pancakes, only to have his hand viciously slapped away by Yuri.
“Neither of you are very sociable, you go to different classes and have different styles, so what’s up?” Sala asked, startling both of the boys as she comfortably sat down on the edge of the table.
Yuri looked at her, marginally amused at how fast rumors traveled at school.
“It’s the hot topic among the girls.” She added.
“The hot topic?” Yuri asked, dread washing over him like the waves ashore. He pushed her off the table. “Get your ass off, we’re eating.” He grumbled.
“Well, Otabek is really cool, isn’t he? He has a lot of secret fans, but he seems so… Hard to approach.” She hummed. For some inexplicable reason, her comment made Yuri feel more than a little irritated, but before he could snap something at her, she continued. “He seemed so mysterious before and then suddenly he got all attached to you.”
“Yo, Plisetsky.” Someone else said all the way from the door.
“Speak of the devil.” Sala said when she noticed that Otabek was standing by the door. She turned back to Yuri and leaned in, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Are you two gay or something?”
“Huh-- What?” Yuri glared at her, and instead of dignifying her question with an answer, he grabbed his guitar case and walked out.
Once they were in their spot by the stairs, Yuri lost no time going back over what they saw the day before. He was teaching Otabek a simple chord progression, just so he’d be able to say he knew how to play something, instead of hauling around a guitar just for the looks.
Despite not knowing shit about music, Otabek had a good ear and he was a freakishly fast learner, which surprised Yuri. But then again, just about anything that Otabek ever did was bound to surprise Yuri in one way or another.
It felt good to watch other people grow.
Yuri was still puzzled about him. He still didn’t know what made him start playing, or what was up with his guitar. It simply wasn’t right for an amateur. And one in high school, at that.
“Hey.” Yuri started, getting Otabek’s attention. He pointed at the guitar. “Did your father or somebody hand it down to you?”
Otabek cocked his head. “I don’t have a father.”
“Ah. Oh, sorry.” Yuri looked down at his lap, completely sure he had messed up. Technically, he didn’t have a father either, but saying that felt like he was betraying his grandfather.
Nikolai had raised Yuri and taken care of him since he had memory. For all Yuri cared, he was his father. “Well then… What music do you like? You must have a favorite, right? Or a song?” He asked, trying to dispel the awkwardness of the previous attempt at a conversation.
Otabek stared at him for a moment. Yuri was about to ask again when Otabek shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
Yuri felt his eyelid twitch. “You--”
“I don’t know if I like it or not,” Otabek continued. “But there’s a song that keeps playing inside my head.”
This time Yuri was sure Otabek had completely lost it. A song inside his brain? Did he mean an earworm? Some sort of alien technology sending an advanced tune to him? Was that his motivation to learn guitar? Was he even human?
“Uuh… What kind of song is it?” Silence. “What’s its name?”
“I don’t think it has a title.”
“Ah, uh…”
“It goes like this:” For the smallest moment, Yuri expected Otabek to whip out a sick riff on the guitar and make him question why he even needed classes in the first place. Maybe he watched too many cartoons, because that didn’t happen.
Instead, Otabek opened his mouth, vocalizing a tune that made the entire atmosphere of the stairs shift, like shuddering. Yuri’s heart sped up in his chest, supplying a beat where Chris’ drums would usually be.
Otabek wasn’t saying any words, he was just humming, improvising. A collection of la, la, la, at most. And yet Yuri felt an incredible sense of sadness coming from his voice alone. It weighed heavily in his chest, and made itself comfortable right next to his racing heart, oppressing his lungs and making it hard to breath.
Would it be disrespectful to suck in air when everything was so full of such a great sense of loss?
Finally, Otabek stopped. He looked at Yuri as if he didn’t just open an entire new dimension of emotions for the blond. “That kind of song.” He said.
Yuri leaned forward. This time, he was the one that was way too close, if Otabek’s wide eyes were any indication.
He stared at Otabek in the eye, determined. “Join our band.”
✩