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Soulmate
/ˈsōlˌmāt/
The person the universe or fate* deems is best suited for you; this can be romantically or platonically. When skin-to-skin contact is made, a flower or multiple** blooms on that area of skin and fades about an hour after the contact leaves.
*The giver of soulmates is debated on and different cultures carry separate beliefs
**Research has proven inconclusive on how flowers species are chosen; the amount of blooms depend on how long the touch lasts
—
Yuuri had learned about soulmates at a very young age.
The first time he remembered seeing soulmates was his parents. The memory was wobbly and unclear, as many memories of a child are, but Yuuri could still clearly see the flowers.
His parents had been restocking the kitchen and his dad was carrying a crate of onions.
As his dad passed the crate to his mother, their fingers brushed and an instant later, calla lilies unfurled.
Yuuri’s eyes widened. As a 4-year-old, he wondered what they could possibly be.
As a 6-year-old, he had the answer ingrained in his mind, “soulmate marks.” They were, at least in Japan, heavily private things and carried traditions with them. Skin-to-skin contact had a heavy weight to it and you only engaged in it with the people you were extremely close to.
This tradition was meant to make a soulmate's touch all the more meaningful, as you only test if flowers will bloom once you've known the person a while and are sure they are your fate-deemed person.
As a 12-year-old, Yuuri understood the universe could make mistakes.
He was walking the familiar path back home from the ice rink, legs tired and lungs still remembering the pain he'd willingly subjected them to 20 minutes prior.
The sun was setting, painting the sky a beautiful assortment of colours. Yuuri stopped by the bridge that looked out over the ocean and closed his eyes.
The waves lapped on the beach. The birds above were screeching and calling out, ready to settle in for the night. The sound of his own breathing was peacefu-
Slap.
Yuuri's eyes shot open at the sound of a hit. A couple had stopped by the waterline, not seeing the pre-teen watching them from a mere 30 yards away.
The sound of arguing was muffled due to the distance, but Yuuri's eyes could still see clearly.
On the bigger man’s cheek, a dahlia flower was blooming; and with the dahlia, a black and blue bruise swelled out with the growing flower.
The smaller man, presumably the bigger one’s soulmate, was throwing his hands out wildly. The bigger man with the bruise, hung his head, and his eyes seemed dead even from a distance.
“Just—-found nothin—-phone doesn't mean—-lying to me!----no trust—”
The smaller man kept yelling and when the bigger man still didn't look up, he slapped him again.
A mottled purple and brown flower bloomed on his cheek.
The first clear sentence in their argument came through then, “I should just leave now, shouldn't I?”
Finally, the bigger man looked up, eyes panicked.
Yuuri knew then, he needed to leave. He walked away, trying to look calm so the couple wouldn't notice him or be suspicious, and once he was far enough away, he ran the rest of the way home.
Yuuri still carries the guilt for not helping or telling anyone.
As a 19-year-old, Yuuri was still trying to get used to the culture shocks that came from moving to the U.S.
The biggest shock had to be the physical contact.
In the U.S. it was customary to greet strangers with skin-to-skin contact, to see if you met your match. Even more peculiar, physical affection was very common.
Hugging hello and goodbye was the norm, handshakes instead of a bow was the polite greeting, and cuddling with friends was, shockingly, very normal.
When he arrived at the university’s dorms, he hadn't yet learned all these facts about physical contact in the U.S.
Yuuri let out a shuddery breath, nervous to meet his roommate, who he only knew the name of. He was carrying one box in his arm, the rest on the ground next to him, and using a free hand, he knocked.
The door opened and a head popped out with a bubbly smile on his face, “Hi! You must be my roommate, Yuuri Katsuki?”
Slightly startled by the exuberant personality in front of him, Yuuri hesitantly responded, “Yes. Phitchit Chulanont, right?”
“Uh-huh! Nice to meet you Yuuri!” And with this exclamation, Chulanont stuck his hand out expectantly.
Yuuri, already surprised by the use of his first name, couldn't quite understand why his roommate was sticking his hand out. So, he looked at it.
After a few seconds of frozen, awkward silence, Phitchit’s face lit up in understanding and the hand that was outstretched was then used to slap himself on the forehead.
“Oh, right you're Japanese aren't you. Shit- I'm so sorry about the first name thing!” Phichit said, kind of frantically at the last part.
Yuuri mumbled out a small, “It's fine.”
“In Thailand, where I'm from, and the U.S, it's customary to touch when you meet someone new; to find your soulmate quicker, ya’ know?” Phichit explained. “I just remembered that Japan’s one of the countries that still has restrictions on touch…”
Yuuri blinked.
“It’s- um- It's all good if you don't want to do the whole, touch thing? I just moved here too but I'm already used to it since Thailand and America are mostly the same when it comes to soulmate stuff!”
Yuuri stuck his hand out and smiled at him, recognizing the small amount of panic and nervousness that was leaking onto Phitchit's face and voice.
Maybe his roommate wasn't as confident as he thought.
“It's okay! I should probably start getting used to this anyway, I'll be in this country for a while.”
Phitchit's smile turned a bit more relieved and he shook Yuuri's hand.
“I can't say I was expecting flowers, but I still think we'll be good friends? What d’ya say, Yuuri?” Phichit asked, tacking on a rushed, “Is it okay if I call you by your first name?”
“Yes and yes.” Yuuri answered, laughter tainting his voice, finding a bit of amusement in the nervousness his roommate still had.
“Oh, I should probably get out of the doorway so you bring your boxes in! I'm so sorry, I'm a mess today!” Phichit exclaimed, already turning around and walking into the dorm.
Yuuri laughed in response, “You're good! I just have my skating stuff in here so it's not that heavy.”
Phitchit's head whipped around and his eyes lit up in joy, “You skate too! Who's your coach?”
Yuuri's eyebrows shot up, what was the luck of having another skater as his roommate?! He won't have to explain all the weird stretches or icings he has to do after practices.
“I'm under Coach Celestino, he's based at the rink really close to campu-”
“Me too!” Phichit interrupts him, practically jumping with excitement.
“Wow! What are the chances right?!” Yuuri asks, really starting to warm up to Phichit, his roommate and apparently rinkmate too.
Yeah, Yuuri didn't have to be nervous anymore.
—
“It couldn't have been that bad?”
“Yes, Phichit! It definitely was that bad! You know how I get when I drink!” Yuuri screeched as he fell backwards onto their couch.
Phichit put his legs on top of Yuuri’s lap and said, “Okay, you haven't actually said, what did you do?”
“That's the worst part!” Yuuri cried out. “I can't remember what happened!”
“What!? How much did you drink?!” Phichit’s eyes widened in alarm and buried amusement.
“I don't know!” Came the strangled reply, muffled by the fact that Yuuri was burying his face in a pillow.
Phichit just laughed in response. Indignant that his misery was being made fun of, Yuuri launched the pillow he was holding on face at Phichit.
“Owww! Yuuri, that's no way to treat your loving and caring roommate!”
“Oh, suck it up!” Yuuri said with an eye roll.
After a second of silence, both of them glaring at each other, they burst out into giggles.
The ding of Yuuri’s phone broke their shared amusement and Yuuri stretched out to grab it from the shitty old coffee table they found at a yard sale a month after they started living together.
His smile dropped and the mood sombered as he read the notification:
Text from: Mari
Did u land yet?
Btw, don't read the articles, they dont know wht there talking abt
Text to: Mari
I landed
Yeah, I wont
“Yuuri? You ok?”
Yuuri looked up at the concerned look on Phichit's face.
“Huh? Uh- Yeah, I'm ok.”
“You don't sound ok. What happened? Who was that?” Phichit questioned, wanting to find out what was up with his roommate.
“It was just Mari. She was telling me not to read the articles.”
“What artic- Oh…” Phichit trailed off as he realized.
Yuuri just stared back down at his closed phone, nodding a bit in response to Phichit.
Phichit sat up and grabbed Yuuri’s hand, making him look up again.
“She's right, you know? They shouldn't have told you the news so close to your competition, they know you get stressed. Besides, it was a one off! You made it to the Grand Prix Final! That's amazing!” Phichit tried his best to reassure Yuuri.
“I know. It's just–” Yuuri took a deep breath. “It's just hard to accept that, I guess.”
Letting out a sigh, eyes pained with the knowledge that his best friend was hurt, Phichit reached out with open arms.
“Come here.”
Yuuri fell into the hug, the feeling was familiar after years of friendship with Phichit.
His eyes started to well up, “I messed up, Phichit.”
“No, no, no. That wasn't your fault. Besides, someone has to get 6th place every year, right? That doesn't mean you can't come back next year and do even better!” Phichit said as he rubbed Yuuri’s back. “And next year, I'll be cheering you on rinkside!”
Leaning away from the hug, sniffling and wiping his eyes, Yuuri smiled wobbly and said, “Nah, you're gonna be hoping for my downfall because next year, you're definitely making it to the final!”
“Hey! I'm supposed to be the encouraging one right now!”
They both started laughing again as they relaxed back into the couch.
“So,” Phichit said, looking at Yuuri with a sly light in his eyes. “You wanna get some snacks and binge watch another reality show?”
“Phichit,” Yuuri said, grabbing Phitchit's hand, face dead serious. “If I ever say no to that offer, I need you to kill me. Because that is an alien imposter.”
Phichit cheered and shot up from the couch, “I'll grab the chips and drinks, you get the ice cream and candy, and let's meet at self-checkout!”
Yuuri smiled and got up from the couch, pocketing his phone and wallet. He could only be grateful for a best friend that knew how to distract him.
—
Viktor didn't know what to do.
Sure, he won another competition, but what did another gold medal mean?
He wanted his life back. One where he could eat what he wanted, travel where he wished, and wasn't dictated by skating.
He still loved the ice, it had been his passion since he was a child. But if being the best meant dedicating his entire life to surpassing only himself, he was willing to give it up.
He wanted challenges, surprises, and love. Thinking of those things, Viktor could only think of 1 answer.
No, 1 person.
Yuuri Katsuki.
They met for the first time last year, and while to the world his score reflected a bad athlete, the only reflection Viktor saw was of a bad performance.
When they danced that night, Viktor could tell there was something else going on. He didn't want to ruin the mood that night by asking, but he swears he was going to ask him the next day.
Only, he never got a text from Yuuri.
His phone died halfway through the gala, so the best he could do was save his number in Yuuri's phone. But, when 2 weeks passed, and no unsaved number had sent even a simple, “hey,” Viktor gave up.
The ding of his notifications broke his thoughts.
His phone was on do not disturb, which meant very few people could bypass the silencing.
He grabbed his phone, surprised to see the amount of people who had tagged him in what looked like the same video.
The alert that caused him to check his phone was a text from Yakov, telling him to check the video.
Confused, Viktor clicked the link, which took him to a video of-
Oh.
Well, now Viktor knew what to do.
—
Yuuri stared, slack-jawed as Viktor’s hand reached out to his chin.
Before they made contact, Yuuri scrambled backwards, almost knocking some of his stacked boxes to the ground.
“I-I don't know if you know this, but in Japan it's very impolite to touch someone you're not close with!” Yuuri frantically explained.
Well, with the way Yuuri had danced the night of the gala Viktor would beg to disagree.
Though he hadn't drunk a lot that night, his memory was still kind of blurred. So, he couldn't be sure if he actually saw those flowers blooming on Yuuri's hand.
Well, he wants Yuuri to be comfortable most of all. No matter how much Viktor would love to just reach out and touch him, desperately wanting to find his soulmate in the one person to make him feel alive in years, he would respect his boundaries.
Well…
That's not to say he wouldn't try to push them a bit.
“Yuuri!” Viktor crooned out, knocking on the door, “Let's sleep together!”
“No!” Was his only response.
Sighing, Viktor gave up and went back to his room, “Come, Makkachin.”
He went to sleep that night, cuddling his dog, lost in thoughts revolving around his soulmate.
Maybe he was just imagining those flowers. Yuuri was so perfect, and while he thinks Yuuri was perfect for him, Yuuri obviously doesn't think the same. With how much he was avoiding his touch, Viktor knew it was his time to take a step back.
—
Well, after that hug, Viktor immediately took 10 steps forward.
Before Yuuri performed Eros for the first time, he had been the one to initiate contact! He did!
After that, the floodgates opened.
On the podium, an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders.
Rinkside before a skate, always a hug.
At the kiss-and-cry waiting for Yuuri's score, interlaced hands resting on their thighs.
Watching other competitors on the TV, a hug from behind.
At the table while eating dinner, thighs pressed together on the floor.
While walking Makkachin in the mornings around Hasetsu, Yuuri pointing locations out with his free hand, the other firmly grasped in Viktor's hand.
The only downside was, all of these happened with at least one barrier of cloth between the two. Whether it be a glove, a sleeve, or a pant leg, there was always something that came in between the two.
Oh, how Viktor wanted to throw his caution and gloves to the wind. But he made a promise to himself, and he's gonna keep it. Until Yuuri’s on the same page, he'll stick to that boundary at least.
—
Okay, after seeing Yuuri cry so violently and perform his signature move so beautifully, how could he not?!
As Yuuri greets the audience, chest still heaving from the strain of his performance, Viktor runs to the gate.
Not having to say a word, Yuuri makes eye contact with him, holding it as he skates to the gate where Viktor waits.
“Vikto-”
The sound of his name is cut off by Viktor’s lips, his hands reaching around the back of Yuuri’s head to cushion it as they land against the ice.
As they hit the rink, Yuuri’s breath is taken away, but not from the impact.
No, the carnations blooming against the pink of Victor’s lips make him feel like his heart stopped beating and is racing at the same time.
The audience is silent and a stunned cameraman tries to zoom in on them, still trying to decipher if he was actually seeing carnations.
Yuuri’s eyes soften as he reaches his hands up too, entangling them into Viktor’s hair.
“I wanted to surprise you more than you've surprised me.” Viktor says, a soft smile on his face, not nervous at all with a whole-hearted assuredness that Yuuri was happy with this outcome.
“Well, it worked” Yuuri whispers, before kissing him again, squeals and excited screams from the crowd were mere background noise to their ears.
—
Standing in front of the church, Yuuri and Viktor hold hands.
A choir is singing a song Yuuri can't understand, a language that he loved purely for the reason that it belonged to his love.
Taking a deep breath, Yuuri takes out a ring and Viktor’s eyes widen.
“I thought that before my competition, I should give this to you. Something gold before I bring you home a medal.”
He slips the ring onto Viktor's finger and Viktor’s eyes follow it.
Looking up, Viktor asks, “Is this just a placeholder? Or can I keep it even after you win your medal?”
Yuuri laughs as he brings Viktor's hand to his mouth and kisses the ring, “You can keep it as long as you'd like. I would prefer if you wanted to keep it forever though?”
Viktor smiles brightly, taking something out of his own pocket, “Well then, I guess I should give you this then?”
As he speaks, he pushes a golden ring onto Yuuri’s finger, stunning him into a second of silence.
“Yeah, I guess you should!” Yuuri responds, laughing a bit as his eyes start welling up.
As they kiss, carnations blooming on their lips again, their hands meet, a bouquet of carnations blooming between the 2.