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"This one is full," Viktor says, shoving another cream-colored sweater into a large bag. "I'll take it to the living room and get us another. I wish I had time to do this before you got here."
"You took care of enough. We can do this part together."
Viktor makes a face as he leaves the room.
When they decided that Yuuri should move to St. Petersburg, Viktor wanted to prepare the apartment to receive him. But Yuuri likes helping clear himself a few shelves. Carving out his own space in Viktor's life, like Viktor had done for Yuuri when he arrived in Hasetsu.
He sits down to comfortably access the bottom shelf and pulls out a stack of clothes to reveal an old, worn out shoebox. He removes the lid and finds eyeshadow palettes and little bottles of nail polish, with colors ranging from a glittery green and a pretty pink to solid red and black.
There's a rustle of plastic as Viktor returns, opening a new bag.
"Oh," he says when he sees what Yuuri found. "I forgot about that."
Viktor shifts hangers around, pulling out clothes. Rather than go back to work, Yuuri opens a palette. The colors inside are as bright and bold as the nail polish.
Yuuri doesn't remember anything so colorful from Viktor's past programs. He's used to this feeling, to finding out that the information he'd accumulated as a fan is incomplete or just plain wrong, but now he feels off-balance. It reminds him of Viktor's first weeks in Hasetsu, the first few times he got to see the person Viktor is.
"You wore makeup like this?" he asks.
"I played around with it," Viktor says with a touch of nostalgia in his voice. "Yakov wouldn't let me ask the makeup artists for anything too colorful for performances, so I tried to learn by myself. By the time I had any skill that could be seen by the cameras, I cut my hair and it just didn't suit my public image anymore."
"So you didn't get to explore colors?"
"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Viktor smiles. "I like my clothes. And I did skate a whole season in a sparkly pink outfit not too long ago. I'm sure you noticed."
"That's not the same."
Viktor shrugs. "I had a few skirts, too, but I never wore them out of the house. My favorite was a floral pink. When we were in Japan, sakura patterns kept reminding me of it."
"Where is it?"
"I gave it away with the rest. Oh, don't look at me like that," he laughs, "it was years ago. They wouldn't have been my size anymore."
"But you can wear this?" Yuuri holds up the eyeshadows.
"No, that's expired. I'm not putting it on my skin."
Yuuri watches him pick between three identical coats in different colors. Blue, brown, tan. The colors that dominate Viktor's wardrobe, with an occasional touch of something else muted or dark. Nothing... vibrant. Not like the palette Yuuri is holding.
"Let's go shopping."
Frowning, Viktor looks down at him. "But— we're trying to make space for your things, not get more of mine."
"We'll make it work."
✿
When Viktor wants something, he plunges right into it. It's unsettling to watch him hesitate, not even touching the clothes in the store. Yuuri takes a page out of Viktor's book and gives a push. When Viktor's eyes linger on something, Yuuri pulls out his size and holds on to it. "To try."
"Wait," Viktor protests, "not orange. Orange is awful. And yellow makes me look ill, I—"
"Vitya, this is you. It can't look bad."
Viktor stops himself with a little strangled sound, looking at the orange sweater and the colorful pile in Yuuri's hands. "I... I'll try it on."
Viktor doesn't buy the yellow shirt or the orange sweater, but he does buy a purple knit shirt with a few shiny beads sewn around the shoulders, pretty and asymmetrical.
Viktor extends a hand. "Feel it. It's soft."
Yuuri rubs the material between his fingers and smiles. "It is."
Taking Viktor's hand, Yuuri pulls him from store to store, leading him to the brightest clothes, to the women's section, to embroidery and frills and sequins and interesting cuts.
The first item Viktor picks up himself is a pair of pants with pink flowers embroidered near a pocket, blooming on a pattern of branches. He follows the embroidery with a finger.
"Should I hold on to that for you?" Yuuri asks.
"Yes." Viktot hands it to him. "Thank you."
"Get the right size first."
Viktor blinks. "Oh, right."
The pants are designed for women, they aren't really made for someone as tall as Viktor, but he says something about consulting a tailor and takes them anyway.
"We'll make it work," he says, shooting Yuuri a smile.
After that, Yuuri lets him lead. They get a floral dress that falls prettily around Viktor's calves, a green cable-knit sweater, and cute jeans that cling to Viktor's legs and make Yuuri blush.
For every item he buys, he tries on three. In the women's section—where most interesting clothing choices are, at least for this little project—many things just don't sit on Viktor's form the way they're made to. Viktor barely blinks when he has to put something away. He expects these clothes not to follow the lines of his body in a way he likes. But then he puts on a red shirt, the fabric sewn to gather under the chest with an elastic, and frowns.
"This one doesn't really suit my shape."
"You wanted it," Yuuri says, smiling.
"There was a skirt the same color, wasn't there?"
"I think so. I'll go look."
Yuuri finds two red skirts and brings both to Viktor, who lights up. One is a short form-fitting skirt dyed a solid red, and the other longer with a pattern of white polka dots.
"I need a dress from this fabric," Viktor says, looking at the second skirt.
They get both.
The final purchase is black, but it fits the spirit of this shopping trip. It's an open-back dress with sleeves that cling to Viktor's upper arms and then flare wide.
Something about the dress has Viktor standing tall in front of the mirror, his head held high, looking proud. Regal. It reminds Yuuri of a routine Viktor skated a couple of years back. A commanding presence, moving with complete confidence on the ice. The arena, even the stadium itself was entirely his. Viktor had graciously accepted the cheering, as if he'd expected gratitude from the audience for being able to watch, to witness him.
"This needs heels," Viktor says.
"Uh," is all Yuuri manages.
Viktor smiles at him through the mirror. "I think that's enough for one day, don't you?"
"Sure, um. As long as you're getting this one."
Viktor laughs.
They buy the dress and leave the store, splitting the bags between them so they can hold hands as they walk. Viktor doesn't lead them in the direction Yuuri expects.
"That's not where we left the car."
"I know," Viktor smiles and keeps walking. "We don't need it yet."
If Yuuri was worried that he's pushing for something Viktor doesn't want, that worry is gone. They stop in front of a different store.
"Makeup!" Viktor exclaims, leading him inside. "My everyday makeup is fine, but the rest? You saw, it's unusable. I need to replace it."
"Oh. Yes, of course."
Viktor regularly uses foundation and mascara and lip balms. He has a very elaborate skincare routine that's different depending on whether he plans to use makeup that day or not. But all of this is to maintain an image and hide imperfections, looking almost natural. It's not for fun and art and color.
Yuuri can't wait to see how this will change. Viktor could use these only rarely and indoors. He could add color to his daily routine. He could do anything in between.
While Viktor asks a cashier to keep their bags for them, Yuuri looks around. There's a display of eyeshadows on sale. It packs small palettes with shades chosen around a specific color theme, bigger ones with more variety, and little packages of single eyeshadows. He sees a gold one and picks it up.
"Do you like it, my Yuuri?"
"It's very... sparkly."
Laughing, Viktor takes it from him. "It would look great on you. We should get it."
"I thought we're getting makeup for you."
"We'll do that too," Viktor says, putting the gold eyeshadow in a little store basket. "But you know I think you're meant for gold."
Looking between the different palettes, Viktor chooses a colorful one, bigger than the expired one they left at home. He takes two more of the single eyeshadows. One of them reminds Yuuri of the purple shirt.
"This brand has very pigmented eyeshadows, if they're still the way I remember them. We should get mascara, too."
"You have mascara."
When he applies it, his eyelashes look unbelievably long and lush. But Yuuri loves seeing him without, too. Like his freckles, they're details Yuuri spends hours studying up close.
"I wear brown mascara because black is a bit much for my coloring," Viktor says. "But you should wear black."
"Oh, it's for me?"
"Of course."
Yuuri expects him to take a tube and go, but Viktor looks at the shape of the brush and the promises made on the packaging. Yuuri occupies himself looking at lipsticks. Reds, pinks, purples, browns. Which colors would Viktor like? Certainly more than they'll buy here today. A dark red catches his eye and he opens it, looking at the mirror over the lipstick display.
"Don't put that on your lips, Yuuri. It's a tester. People touch it."
"Oh." Yuuri stops. "So how do I test it?"
"On the back of your hand."
Yuuri paints a short line on his skin and tilts his head.
"I... think I like it," Yuuri says slowly, unsure.
Viktor comes to look. "Very pretty. It'll be great on you. It's a very warm red."
"Red is always warm," Yuuri says.
Viktor picks a different one, adding it near the first on Yuuri's hand. "Here, look. This is more my color. You'll look good in either, I think. Yours are neutral, but I have cool undertones."
"You're pink."
Viktor laughs. He looks bright. Alive. In his element.
"You don't wear colors," Yuuri says, "but you know a lot about them."
"I used to look into the theory. I also asked makeup artists a lot of annoying questions every time I had one in front of me. I made photoshoots a nightmare for everyone but myself. Then, of course, there's practice at home." He smiles, a little lopsided. "I have very strong opinions on makeup."
He picks a sealed package of each lipstick and adds them to their basket, then chooses a couple more.
"It's getting late. We should go home after we get foundation."
"For me again?" Yuuri asks.
"And me."
"Are you running out?"
"No, I just want another."
When everything is paid for, they go back to the car and drive home. It's dark out. Viktor's presence at his side feels brighter, more alive than before. Yuuri can't help but reach out and hold his hand as they drive. Viktor's thumb rubs across his knuckles, lingering on Yuuri's ring, and he sighs happily.
"The closet will have to wait for tomorrow," Viktor says when they're home.
"That's fine. I'm tired anyway. My suitcase isn't messy, I can live with my clothes staying there another day."
Viktor sighs and sits down to pet Makkachin who's wagging her tail, excited to have them back. "You're right."
✿
They finish organizing the closet the next day and place the discarded clothes in the car to be given away later. Yuuri smiles at their work, enjoying the new clothes on Viktor's shelves. Spots of color.
"Good job, love," Viktor says.
Yuuri kisses him.
The rest of the day is spent spoiling Makkachin to apologize for being so busy. In the evening, when Viktor returns from taking a shower and sits down next to him, Yuuri glances up and loses his ability to speak.
Viktor is wearing his new jeans and the purple shirt, looking radiant with matching eyeshadow.
"You're staring," Viktor says. With the darker color of the lipstick, the curve of his smile is more pronounced than usual. "That's a fun reaction."
"You look... incredible."
Viktor's shoulders relax. Yuuri didn't even notice he was tense.
"I'm sorry, I... Wow. I can see your freckles."
"Mmhm," Viktor smiles, lopsided and playful. "I thought you'd appreciate it. I picked something that isn't full coverage."
Yuuri's chest tightens. "You got this for me? But this... This whole thing, it was supposed to be for you."
"Yuuuuuri," Viktor coos, "no, I didn't mean that. I meant more like... Hmm. The clothes I already had in my closet aren't bad, they're just one side of me. I thought, if we're helping me show more of myself, I might as well let it be my skin."
"Oh," Yuuri says, feeling breathless.
"And if my future husband likes it," Viktor adds, voice lower, "that's not exactly a problem, is it?"
Yuuri brings a hand to Viktor's cheek, pausing for permission before touching. Viktor turns and leans into it, closing his eyes.
Viktor's skin looks smoother, the freckles lighter but not invisible. This makeup doesn't remake his face into something new and plastic.
Yuuri's ring catches the light as he moves Viktor's bangs to see him better. With Viktor's eyes closed, the colors blended on his eyelids are beautifully laid out. Darker and lighter shades mix together, complementing each other.
Eventually, inevitably, his attention gravitates towards Viktor's lips.
"Can I ruin it?"
"Depends," Viktor says, already tilting his chin up for a kiss. "How do you intend to ruin it?"
Yuuri comes close enough to feel Viktor's warmth on his lips, but stops again before touching.
Viktor wraps his arms around Yuuri's shoulders. With his breath caressing Yuuri's skin, he says, "Well?"
Yuuri shivers and closes the distance.
It's different. The texture and the flavor and the smell are all different from Viktor's bare skin. They're different from Viktor's chapstick. It's different, but the same. Viktor moves like himself and sounds like himself. The familiar firmness of his lips is just right. And once Yuuri gets used to the new sensations, he finds more of Viktor underneath. His taste and his smell waiting to be revealed under layers of color.
They break apart and Yuuri opens his eyes, finding Viktor looking back at him, his gaze dark. The lipstick is smeared into a thin and messy layer around Viktor's mouth. Natural blush is visible under the makeup.
"You're even prettier like this," Yuuri hears himself say and gets an amused huff from Viktor.
"This lipstick suits you too, my Yuuri. I'm glad I got it. Good for both of us."
"Vitya." From this distance, Yuuri can see individual sparkly specks on Viktor's skin like pixie dust. He feels lightheaded. "Why... Why didn't you do this before?"
"Ah." Slowly, Viktor's smile melts away. "Well."
"Oh, no. Sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"
"No, it's fine. It's nothing... traumatic." Viktor gives Yuuri another little kiss and pulls away. "Hmm. I think I was... fifteen? Sixteen? I can't remember exactly."
"Something happened?" Yuuri asks, placing a hand on Viktor's.
"Like I said, it was nothing big," Viktor says, but he turns his hand to lace their fingers together. "I can't even remember what it was that made me realize..."
"Realize what?"
"Okay." Viktor licks his lips and shifts his legs to face Yuuri more comfortably. "A rising star. Skating and making it look like magic. Hardworking, talented, beautiful, charming," he lists off easily, simple facts. "I was popular, and at first, I didn't see any downsides. I don't..." he pauses, frowning, then sighs. "I really can't remember what it was, but something made me realize that to those who don't know me, the smallest things can become the essence of who I am as a person. And I have no control over that. They won't listen to me about what's important and what's not. So if I don't want something to become too big... They can't know. At all."
"Oh." All the responses Yuuri can think of are superficial. He could say that it doesn't matter what strangers think, but even if he could talk to the boy Viktor was, would this help the fragile self esteem of a teenager living under spotlights?
"Finding out who I am," Viktor says, "had to happen at home."
"Alone," Yuuri adds. "In private." As if it's shameful.
Viktor smiles at him briefly, thankful. "With no one else to see... It didn't feel very real. I was free when I skated, because everyone knew I was performing, acting a part. But outside of that, it took me time to be confident in the image I present."
Yuuri's heart breaks at the picture Viktor paints. A boy showing himself to the whole world and pretending it's an act. Teaching himself a skill for self-expression, and abandoning it in favor of maintaining an image. Carefully molding the image for his everyday life, to have something he can control. The persona of an impulsive man who can't be bothered to care what the public thinks of him, doing whatever he wants and laughing at their reactions.
Yuuri was fooled by it, too.
"I'm sorry."
"After yesterday?" Viktor smiles with a gentle kind of amusement. "No, Yuuri. Thank you."
Yuuri swallows past a hot lump in the back of his throat and leans in for another soft kiss. Viktor sighs into it and Yuuri threads fingers through the hair at Viktor's nape, hoping the intimacy offers some comfort. Hoping that, as they stop and breathe each other in, it conveys everything he wants it to. The gratitude he feels. The promises he wants to make.
He traces a thumb over Viktor's ring. "Do you want to leave the makeup on?"
"No," Viktor sighs. "I can't sleep with makeup. And it did its job."
"What job?"
"Getting a reaction out of you."
Yuuri smiles. "Okay. Then... Can I remove it for you?"
"I suppose." Viktor sits back and tilts his head. "If you want."
The process is pretty straightforward, with clearly labeled bottles and simple cotton pads, so Yuuri doesn't think he'd have to be instructed. Viktor still gives him occasional tips.
"Hold it down to let it soak through the makeup and start breaking it down. Then wipe."
"Okay."
"The foundation goes down my neck."
"Okay."
Viktor doesn't move to take over. He lets Yuuri do it, even if he would have been quicker. Yuuri is grateful. It feels like taking a fuzzy image of Viktor and making it crisp and sharp, with all the little details becoming clear and visible. It's as breathtaking as the first glance of Viktor with this makeup.
"Can I cook breakfast tomorrow morning?" Yuuri asks, wiping away the final traces he can see.
"It's your home now, my love. You can do whatever you want."
Home. Yuuri feels warm. They have two now: one in Hasetsu and one here.
Sitting back, he looks at Viktor's clean face.
"Can I help with your skincare routine too?"
"Of course. Let me wash my face quickly first, you'll do the rest."
Yuuri gives Viktor his ring to keep clean and goes through each product according to Viktor's instructions. He kisses the top of Viktor's head and goes to wash his hands.
"Bed?"
"My Yuuri, of course," Viktor smiles, handing him back the ring. "But you didn't clean your lipstick."
Blushing, Yuuri goes to get the pads and the makeup remover again. "I forgot."
They go to bed together and Viktor leaves his cute new clothes folded on top of the dresser.
"For tomorrow," he says, looking at the small pile as he settles under the blankets. "I barely got to enjoy these today."
Yuuri kisses his shoulder. "I'm glad we got you things you like."
"Me too," Viktor says, wrapping his arms around Yuuri who melts into his embrace. "I still need to get those heels, though. For the black dress. I want to wear them and the new red lipstick."
"I won't survive you in that."
"Of course you will. You'll want to get payback."
"For wearing that outfit?"
"Sure. You'll steal my breath away. It's a talent of yours. Which reminds me," Viktor says in a different voice, rolling them over and trapping Yuuri under him. "I should thank you."
"Oh?" Yuuri laughs. "You look like you have a few ideas."
Viktor hums. "It starts," he murmurs, leaning down, "with another kiss."
Smiling, Yuuri captures his lips. He tastes nothing but Viktor, happy, content, free.