Chapter Text
Yuuri never planned to fall in love with Victor, but instead admired him since he agreed to coach. I will never have a chance with him.
It happens the way most dangerous things to do…quietly, and all at once.
At first, Victor is just his coach. Too close, too brilliant, too warm in ways Yuuri doesn’t know how to handle. Victor touches his shoulders to adjust postures, claps when Yuuri lands jumps, laughing loudly at things Yuuri thinks are only mildly funny. He smells like the cold air and champagne and something distinctly alpha, though Victor is always careful with his scent and controlled.
Yuri tells himself it's admiration and doesn’t have a chance.
Then one night, after practice runs too late and Hasetsu is silent except for the ocean, Victor makes tea and sits too close to Yuuri on the couch. Yuuri heart doesn’t slow down, as Victor knee brushes against his.
Nothing happens.
But at the same time, it did.
They learn about each other that night in pieces after that. Slowly. Carefully. Victor never rushed him. Never assume the worse of him. He asks. He pulls back when Yuuri gets overwhelmed. When Yuuri apologizes too much, Victor just cups his face and says, “You don’t need to earn space with me.”
Yuri almost cries the first time Victor falls asleep with his head on Yuuri shoulder, not knowing if he should move or lay him down on the couch.
The first kiss happens a month later, awkward, ussure and perfect at the same time. Victor smells like champagne and whiskey at the same time, not dominance. Yuuri doesn’t smell like omega; instead, his scent stays flat, quiet, beta-safe. Neither of them questions it.
They never talked about their secondary gender.
They talk about skating. About fears and goals. About what it means to love something that can leave you at any moment.
Victor never marks him. Never even hints at it. Yuuri think it means safety.
He thinks that means choice.
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Yuuri finds on a Tuesday.
The pregnancy test balances on the edge of the sink in Victor's bathroom, white plastic against marble, two lines staring and burning into his vision.
He doesn’t panic; he goes very still.
Here, the thing Yuuri is a recessive omega, but ever since he was little, he saw the backlash against omegas on how they are getting treated and the discrimination they face. Ever since he joined ice skating and practicing the competition, everyone assumed he was beta, as it was a safer choice for him.
Recessive omega aren’t supposed to present like this, as it's a harder choice. Thats what the doctor says. Thats what his record says. That’s why he is listed as a btea, why no one ever looks twice at his direction, and why his suppressants have always been optional.
Yuuri presses a hand to his stomach.
Nothing feels different yet. No movement. No weight, just the sudden understanding and realization that his body has been keeping a secret even from him. He thought at first he had a stomach ache that the food last night was the cause.
Victor is deeply asleep in the next room.
Yuuri listens to his breathing, trying to calm down and imagining what to say to Victor or react. VIctor face shock, joy, fear, and anger all at once. Imagine the world finding out.
Then what…
Yuuri slowly realizes Victor doens’t know he a omega and would probably get disqualified and not be able to compete.
Imagine Victor losing everything, and rumors spreading that could affect his career.
Yuuri caps the test and hides it.
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The second thing happens at the rink.
Yuuri was walking out of the changing room when stopping hearing Victor, speaking to coach Yakov when he says it so carelessly and honestly.
“I won’t do it.”
“Do what?” Yakov asks.
“Having a relationships with omegas,” Victor replies easily. “Im done.”
Yuuri freezes against the wall, tightening his grip on his bag.
“They always want something,” Victor continues, not cruel, but sounding exhausted. “A bond. A rut. A future where they think I owe them just cause they smell my scent. I won’t be chased into another one.”
Yuuri fingers go numb.
Victor doesn’t see him. Doesn’t Know. Doesn’t scent or see the way Yuuri scent tightens painfully under suppressants that suddenly feel thin as a paper.
Yuuri hears only one truth,
If you become an omega, you become a problem.
That night, Yuuri sits on the edge of the bed while Victor sleeps behind him, warm and trusting, one hand curled loosely near Yuuri's waist as he belongs there.
Yuuri couldn't help but think about how they got here when Victor opened up his home to him and started sleeping in the same bed, cuddling, doing what couples do. But never add a label to this relationship, as it was never brought up.
Yuuri presses both hands to his stomach. He was afraid of having to make the hardest choice, but slowly, he made it.
“I love you, I really do,” he whispered, voice breaking. “So I won’t do this to you. I'm sorry.”
By morning, his choice feels inevitable.
He packs quietly. Leaves a note that says nothing important. Take the first train out before the city wakes.
Victor doesn’t stir once.
And as Yuuri disappears into the quiet, he tells himself that love, no, not love but real love, knows when to let go first.