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There was something different about the air in Japan.
Yuri first noticed it all those years ago (not that he would ever admit how long ago it was; no one really needed to know his age) when he’d arrived in Hasetsu for the first time. Despite the pulsing teenage rage coursing through his veins, one of the first things he’d noticed was the way the air seemed sweeter there. It could have been that he was used to the industrial smog that was the breathing air of Moscow and St. Petersburg, so when he’d finally taken a deep, fresh breath of seaside air, it felt like an entirely new sensation. It had even calmed him slightly, allowing him to function at “mildly irritated” rather than “seething anger.”
It was something he’d grown to love about arriving in the small town even all these years later. He’d made a ritual of stepping off of the train, going out into the street, and stopping to close his eyes to take a big, greedy breath. It was precisely what he planned on doing when he stepped outside the station with Otabek on a brisk May morning. Though his husband stepped through the doors before him, he’d stopped and turned to Yuri expectantly.
“Sea salt air time,” he commented, giving Yuri one of his classic side smiles. He clutched onto the cane in front of him—a point of contention between them, as Otabek, stubborn as always, argued he hadn’t needed the cane, which Yuri called bullshit on, because he’d been a limpy, achey pain in the ass—and Yuri let his heart skip a beat.
25 years of marriage, and this man still managed to be a heartthrob in his eyes.
—
“Katsudon! Old man!”
Yuri barged into the greeting area of the onsen with as much boisterous energy as ever. Otabek followed behind him, using his cane to whack him in the calf. Yuri turned, pointing an accusing finger at him.
“You’re not authorized to use that as a weapon, Beka!”
“Not a weapon. Just a method of poking when you’re too loud.”
“You’ll burst blood vessels in my leg if you’re not careful! My legs are my pride and joy, you know.”
“Those legs are the world’s pride and joy, Yura.”
The blonde grinned madly, poking Otabek in the side. In that time, Yuuri had managed to appear, sleeves rolled to his elbows and a cleaning cloth in his hand.
“Otabek, Yura! It’s been too long,” he started, reaching forward to wrap Yuri in a hug. Yuri let himself be enveloped before immediately trying to get away.
“Why are you so sweaty, Katsudon? Don’t you have people to help you clean this place?” Yuuri waved him off, laughing while he pulled Otabek in for a hug.
“I don’t mind pitching in. It is a family business, after all.”
“Hm. And where is Vitya, if not helping you with the cleaning?”
Yuuri waved them off again, then motioned for them to follow him toward the rooms. “He’s off being a stubborn old man, using years-old software to balance the books because he won’t update the spreadsheet program on the computer.”
“Just make Kitaro update the computer in the night. Nothing like a forced change to make him stop being a brat.” They’d passed Yuuri’s son in the hall as Yuri mentioned him, waving at each other as he helped other guests. Yuuri laughed and sighed.
“He’s tried before, trust me. Sometimes I make the decision to let Vitya be a stubborn old man, as long as his antics only affect him.”
“Letting Vitya be Vitya seems to be the smart answer,” Otabek chimed in as Yuuri ushered them into their room. He tried to make a casual bee line for the nearest chair, not wanting to give away how much his knee had been hurting. Yuri flipped their suitcases onto the bed before turning back to Yuuri.
“Please, get yourselves situated. Feel free to use any of the baths, of course, and let us know if you need anything. Will you both have dinner with us later on?” Yuri and Otabek both nodded their assent. “Perfect. We’ll see you around 7,” Yuuri finished before bowing out.
Otabek sighed heavily, mindlessly massaging his knee while he watched Yuri unpack. Just a minute later, Otabek’s phone began to ring.
“It’s Sofka,” he started, answering and placing the phone on speaker. “Hello, künim.”
“Hey, daddy,” the girl on the other line replied. “Did you both get in yet?”
“Yeah, we just got into our room to settle down,” Otabek replied, watching Yuri continue to rifle through their bags. “I’m with your father, say hello,” he mentioned.
“Hi, papa. Is dad giving you trouble?”
“Always,” Yuri replied without missing a beat. Otabek had the wherewithal to look offended.
“Always ganging up on me,” he muttered. Sofka laughed into the receiver.
“How is everything going, Sofka? Exams nearly over?”
“Almost. I just have one more paper and one more exam to get through, then I can take a few days off before I start my internship.”
“Do you ever stop moving?” Yuri teased. They hadn’t been surprised when their daughter said she’d wanted to go to America to study abroad in her second year, but they were caught off guard when she decided to transfer and stay there for the remainder of her studies. While it pained Yuri more than he wanted to say that she wasn’t coming home for the summer, he still swelled with pride for everything she was accomplishing.
“Apparently not. But it’ll be good for me. And it helps that Maritza will be here.”
“Living with a significant other for the first time. Where did all the time go? When did my little pain in the ass become an adult?” Yuri lamented. Sofka snorted on the other line. Otabek could picture her eyes rolling.
“Over-dramatic as ever, I see, Papa,” she teased. “At least your other pain in the ass is still in Russia.”
“Not that we know where Medet is,” Otabek mused. “Last I heard he was galavanting around Sochi, but that was well over a month ago.”
“I’m somehow unsurprised,” she answered, sighing. “Well, I hope you two have a nice, relaxing time. Have a soak for me, and tell Uncle Yuuri and Vitya I owe them big hugs.”
“Will do, Sofka. Be safe,” Otabek said, letting Yuri say goodbye as well before hanging up. Silence rung around the room. It broke Otabek’s heart a little, though he was unsure why.
“Never thought I’d be feeling empty nest syndrome all these years after both of our kids moved out,” Otabek said out loud, musing his feelings. It was a rare moment for him to be so vulnerable. Yuri put down the clothes in his hand and moved toward his husband, sitting in the chair next to him and taking his hand.
“I know. I feel it sometimes, too.” He smiled sadly at Otabek. He wasn’t particularly in the mood for tears. “Goddamn brats, making us sappy.” Otabek chuckled at this, earning a smile from Yuri. The blonde placed a kiss on his hand before going back to his task.
—
Yuri was always certain of one thing: Otabek was a huge romantic sap, and that made any kind of anniversaries or birthdays memorable, so when he woke up alone in bed on the morning of their 25th anniversary a few days after arriving in Japan, he was less than thrilled.
He blinked into wakefulness, feeling around behind him for the telltale weight and warmth he’d come to know over the years, but the bed was cold. Turning, he glared at the empty side of the bed, wondering what the hell might have had Otabek up and out so early (and without him, to boot). When he turned to get up, a piece of paper on Otabek’s pillow caught his eye; Yuri grabbed it and read:
Yura,
I needed to take care of a few things for tonight. I hope you’re not too upset. In the meantime, I think Victor needed help with something. He’s waiting for you in the common area.
Beka
Yuri scowled at the request to help the old man, but deep down, his heart fluttered. While any kind of fuss over him still made him a little uncomfortable, he couldn’t wait to see what Otabek had planned for them that evening. He pondered what lay ahead for them that night as he stretched up and out of bed, willing to move slowly to keep Victor waiting.
—
By the time the evening rolled around, Yuri had regretted ever agreeing to help Victor with anything.
“Cheer up, Yurio! We were able to get the new fabrics, weren’t we?”
Yuri shot a look at the older man as he drove them through Hasetsu. He still had that annoying heart-shaped smile, though it was outlined now with numerous wrinkles and smile lines. It still baffled Yuri a little that Victor was 63 years old; shit, it baffled him that he himself was 50 years old. Time had flown by far too quickly for his liking. It seemed at one time that they would all be forever in their twenties.
It hadn’t changed how stubborn and suffocating Victor was, though. He’d dragged Yuri along to pick out new fabrics for the onsen’s various draperies. It was insufferable as always, Victor comparing two nearly identical fabrics multiple times that day, stating something having to do with thread counts and the perfect color and a bunch of nonsense that Yuri didn’t care about, because Beka was planning something for them that night. Even so, he couldn’t help a grin every once in a while while he poured over fabrics. No, he wasn’t quite happy about the day’s activities with Victor, but even so, something about him had become endearing after all those years. Not that he would ever say this out loud.
Yuri hummed and nodded at Victor’s statement, muttering “For the love of god, stop calling me Yurio,” though Victor either didn’t hear it or pretended he didn’t hear it. As they cruised through Hasetsu, Yuri noticed straight away when Victor took a turn that wasn’t toward the onsen. He wanted to question him, but he guessed it must have to do with whatever Otabek had planned. Sure enough, within five minutes, he pulled into a parking lot of a local beach, where, not far down the coast, he saw Otabek staring out at the ocean.
“Well, don’t keep your husband waiting, Yura,” Victor said. There was a hint of teasing in his voice—there always was—but Yuri could hear the sincerity behind it as well.
“I only had a slightly terrible time with you today, Vitya.”
“I had fun as well, Yura!”
Yuri scowled, but then exchanged a grin with the older man before leaving the car and starting down the steps to the sand. It was nearing sunset, and it was still too early in the year for many people to be out and about on the beach. Otabek stood down the shore, near a small jetty that crested into the water. As Yuri neared, Otabek turned his head toward him and greeted him with a warm smile—one that he reserved for Yuri alone. Suddenly shy, Yuri waved and smiled back. As he neared Otabek, the Kazakh man lifted an arm from his side, an invitation for Yuri to curl up into him in a half-hug. When Yuri reached him, he dove into his arms, leaning up for a kiss from Otabek. After they parted, Yuri settled into his side, staring out at the ocean with Otabek.
“You couldn’t think of anything better to keep me busy than to stick me with Vitya all day?” Yuri asked, and Otabek chuckled.
“You and I both know he’s the most likely to keep you preoccupied for a significant amount of time. I needed to take care of some things without you snooping around.”
“Hmm. Even so. Picking out fabric for the onsen is the most tedious thing I’ve ever done in my life.”
“Is that what he chose to do? Even I apologize for that one,” Otabek teased, earning a finger in his side.
And then there was silence. Yuri never imagined being able to be still and silent with anyone in his life, and yet Otabek made it so effortless. They never had to say anything to each other. Some things could just be said through a touch, a sigh, the way they tightened their hold on one another.
After a few moments of just being, Otabek pulled away, and Yuri tried his hardest not to scowl. The older man turned toward him, a serious look on his face.
“Yura, I need to tell you something.” Yuri merely nodded, a cold feeling settling in his stomach. Had he done something? Shit, had he really fucked up on their anniversary? Was Otabek going to—
In that moment, Otabek grabbed Yuri’s hand, letting his thumb caress his skin, and Yuri calmed down. Right—this was all part of Otabek’s plan.
“I don’t know where the time went,” he started, staring down at their connected hands. “In one moment we were teenagers desperate to show the world we were winners, and the next we were fathers, and the next we’re here, twenty-five years married. It makes me a little sad, sometimes. Not in the way you’d think,” he interrupted himself, quick to realize his wording. “I just don’t want any of our time together to have gone by without really witnessing it. I worry about all of the little moments I may have missed over the years. I yearn for the time we had with our kids at home, when we had family dinners, when we had the whole world in front of us.
“But that said, Yuri Plisetsky-Altin, after all these years, I still want more. Every day I think about what will happen next. Even if what is next is an outing to the grocery store. I want to savor every moment with you. Twenty-five years have gone by, and yes, I think about the past, but I’m so deeply excited for and committed to our future. To all the years ahead of us.
“That’s why I need to ask you, Yura…” Otabek paused, reaching into his pocket, where he produced a small, velvet box. Yuri glanced at it and immediately looked up at him, a flurry of emotions passing his expression within a few seconds.
“Will you marry me, again?”