Chapter Text
Yuuri stared in dismay at the Snapchat waiting to be sent, a picture of the Valentine’s display at Target with the suggestive words “our time is coming” underneath. He didn’t know whether or not he was stupid for trying to reach out to Viktor Nikiforov again, but he knew he wanted to try. He had to try.
For the past 3 years, Yuuri had spent every Valentine’s Day with the charming silver-haired man, and every year, he had come away wanting more. Their time together, while short, meant everything to Yuuri, and he had held onto these fleeting moments, romanticizing them in his head until every other romantic interest seemed almost mundane. Sure Yuuri had been on other dates since their first Valentine’s Day together, chasing that feeling that he had felt with Viktor, but he always came away empty.
Empty. That was how Yuuri had felt after the first year, when Viktor had not so much as sent him a text back after their date. Empty. How he had felt after the second year, when Viktor had texted a simple “That was fun!” with no indication that he wanted to do it again, no plans made for the future. Yuuri had been more than forward, initiating both times, but Viktor never seemed to want to follow-up. And Yuuri knew that he couldn’t keep chasing after the man when he clearly didn’t want Yuuri. After all this, the only thing still confusing to Yuuri was year 3. Year 3, Viktor had initiated.
Got any plans?
Simple. Sweet. But something about it made Yuuri feel like an afterthought, like he was the last person Viktor could even think to ask, on February 13th no less, and only because he couldn’t find another date. This year, this fourth year, would be his last year to try unless something changed.
The somber thought took him back to the moment it had all started, 3 years ago, on Tinder, after Phichit, Yuuri’s best friend, had been pestering Yuuri to go on some casual dates and have some “good-hearted fun” for once.
_____________________________________
“But Phichit,” Yuuri had protested, “it’s February 10th. I’m not looking for a relationship and I do not want to go on a casual date on freaking Valentine’s Day.”
“Who cares!” Phichit had screamed back, grinning all the while and reaching for Yuuri’s phone. He handed it over without hesitation, not wanting to participate in the silly mating ritual that was the dating app. After all, Phichit had set up the profile. Picked all of the pictures (and had taken most of them too). Yuuri had simply let it happen. Yuuri, content on his own, had protested, but knew that Phichit would win out in the end, what with his stubbornness and extreme persistence. Besides, it was their differences that made them such great friends, and Phichit was happy to do this for Yuuri, the idea of finding Yuuri’s perfect match a fun and challenging task.
Yuuri watched the master at work, taking note of how his eyes scanned each profile, each photo, each short bio. Immediate pass on anyone holding a fish. Pass on anyone with a closeup of their abs as the opening pic. Pass if they mentioned The Office at all (“I know you like the show, too, Yuuri, but when it’s in their bio, it means they don’t have a personality.”).
As Phichit swiped and swiped, the furrow in his brow creased, like he was concentrating very hard. His eyes moved faster than Yuuri could comprehend—he had taken his glasses off so the men had all begun to blur together anyways—but Phichit remained laser-focused. Yuuri didn’t understand how it could ever be that serious. To him, these profiles weren’t even real people, they were just made-up characters that he would chat with a few times and never actually meet up with. Maybe he’d see them at a bar someday and vaguely recognize the face, but he would never approach them and admit that those faces, those tiny people he saw onscreen, were real people. Yuuri doubted there were any real love connections on Tinder.
In fact, Yuuri had started to doubt that love even existed. He was 20, and he had never been in a serious relationship. Had never been interested in someone enough to even try. He thought back to his high school days, when a few girls, and even a few guys, had asked him out, but he wanted nothing to do with them. Afraid of hurting their feelings, they’d go out once or twice…and it would naturally break off when they realized that Yuuri wasn’t interested. His parents had worried about him, worried that he was too alone, too isolated. They put him in therapy for his anxiety, and now Yuuri had been seeing his therapist, Celestino, for many years. When Yuuri finally started coming out of his shell and meeting people, including Phichit, his parents were ecstatic. But even after the years of therapy and working on himself, Yuuri had yet to take a chance on love. And a part of him thought that he never would. Some people just weren’t made to fall in love.
Almost as soon as the thought crossed his mind, Phichit’s face lit up and he beckoned for Yuuri to move in closer.
“I’ve found the one,” he declared. “You can thank me later.”
And thank him Yuuri would. Because right in front of him, on the small screen of Yuuri’s old, cracked smartphone, was the most beautiful man he had ever seen. Smooth pale skin, cropped silver hair, and the most gorgeous blue eyes. And was that…?
Yuuri squinted at the photo, moving the phone closer to him. With his glasses on the other side of the room, he had to really focus on the brown mass in the corner of the photo to make out its familiar shape. To his surprise, it was a poodle, similar to his own! But this poodle was much bigger. So he’s a dog person, Yuuri thought. That’s
hot.
Immediately, Yuuri felt a kinship with this man, this made up character from Tinder. Of course he would recognize this man if he saw him in a bar. Of course he would say hello, try to reach out, say anything to get him closer to this man, to…
“Viktor,” Yuuri breathed out in a hushed tone. Viktor. What a beautiful name. He liked the way it sounded on his tongue. He greedily swiped through the rest of the profile, giggling at the selfies and peace signs, the artsy food pics. There were no fish, no abs (though his body was certainly beautiful), and no mention of the office. There was a picture of him pinching the cheeks of a scowling younger boy, his brother perhaps, and laughing, his mouth forming a beautiful heart shape. Yuuri felt like he was seeing the man’s soul, and they hadn’t even spoken.
Yuuri swallowed, suddenly nervous. He hadn’t expected to actually find someone, and worse, actually want to talk to them. He thrust the phone back to Phichit, suddenly blushing.
“You do it,” he said, embarrassed. “I never know what to say.”
Phichit was the king of pickup lines, had scored more dates in a single semester of college than Yuuri had in his entire life, but Phichit just shook his head, passing the phone back to Yuuri.
“Nuh-uh,” he began, “I will not dishonor the respectable Institution of Tinder by pretending to be someone I am not.”
Yuuri’s shoulders slumped.
“Besides,” he continued. “You haven’t even matched yet. There’s a chance you won’t even have the chance to put your foot in your mouth.”
Yuuri paled. He had forgotten about that part, that this never-ending street of men parading past did in fact go both ways. What if Viktor didn’t like him? What if he swiped left? Yuuri thought suddenly to all of the pictures Phichit had picked, some cute ones of him and Vicchan, his toy poodle. One with his sister, Mari, in front of their parents’ onsen. None with Phichit (“I’m too beautiful—it would be distracting”). And lastly, a few of him doing ballet…including one of him in costume as the Rat King from the Nutcracker.
“It’s fun,” Phichit had said in response to Yuuri’s protests. “It let’s people know that A. You’re good at ballet. And B. Your butt looks cute in tights.”
At this, Yuuri had blushed and begged him to pick any other photo but Phichit refused.
“If they don’t want Rat King Yuuri, they don’t deserve Regular Yuuri.” Phichit proclaimed. “And by regular,” he said, booping Yuuri on the nose, “I mean extraordinary.”
Yuuri had glumly agreed, again thinking that there were no real prospects on Tinder. That the stakes were low and this mortifying picture of Yuuri covered in gray fur would not be seen by anyone important. But now he cringed at the thought of Viktor, suave Viktor, seeing him with a tail and mascot-esque rat head.
Yuuri shook himself back to the present and made a decision. He swiped— right.
Immediately, his phone buzzed.
A match.
Yuuri’s heart fluttered and before he knew it he was drafting out a message to Viktor, the first thing that came to mind.
I like your poodle
He sent it without thinking twice. Phichit gaped at him, surprised at both the message and the confidence with which Yuuri had sent it.
“Who are you?” He joked, nudging Yuuri playfully.
Within seconds, the three dots had appeared that let him know Viktor was responding.
Viktor was responding. He was interested. The thought made Yuuri giddy with happiness. He held his breath, waiting for the buzz of a new message to come through, and…
The rest is history.
_____________________________________
At least, it is to present-day Yuuri, who stared down at his phone, wondering whether or not to send that cheeky little message.
Our time is coming.
Yuuri knew that he couldn’t stand here forever, in front of the kitschy Valentine’s display, pining over a man he had only been on 3 dates with. He knew that he had ice cream in his buggy and it would melt if he didn’t get a move on already, but still, he was stuck.
Stuck wondering if it was a bad idea to put himself on the line again, when Viktor had shown him time and time again that this was nothing serious. Wondering if he would ever find someone who made him feel the way Viktor did.
Phichit’s voice in his head was what gave Yuuri the drive to make a decision.
“Do you want to mope around forever or do you want to do something about it?”
Yuuri wanted to do something about it.
He pressed send.