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Otabek gave a satisfying, long yawn as he made his way towards the building. It was colder than he’d prepared for - a January in Moscow, what had he expected, really? - but he’d compensated his too-thin clothes with running just a little bit faster.
Otabek had finished his morning run feeling light and prepared for the day. Moscow was beautiful this time of year and he enjoyed exploring the city by jogging around aimlessly. The air was crisp and either very sunny with glittering snow or covered in eerie mist, depending on how early he was up.
Otabek had two drinks in his hands - one americano and one huge take-away cup full of orange juice with pulp. He pushed open the door to the building with his hips and made his way to the fifth floor by taking the stairs. He took the opportunity to stretch his thighs as he took two stairs at a time.
He walked to the end of a long hallway. The last door on the left was left slightly open - Yuri always left a door open to indicate which room he was in. Usually he had exactly that room - it had the nicest view and the biggest space.
Otabek didn't knock. He just pushed the door open - again with his hip - and quietly let himself in. He put the drinks down, then closed the door even though he knew nobody else would be here this early.
Otabek loved this particular phase in his life. Getting up a half hour later after Yuri, having a slow jog and afterwards going to the nearby coffee shop to get them both morning drinks (Yuri didn't drink coffee - he only wanted orange juice in the mornings). He then walked up to the dance studio to find Yuri doing yoga with his golden hair in a messy i woke up like this bun reflecting the sun beams heavenly.
The first time Otabek had come to the studio and found Yuri in the middle of his practice, he’d panicked and apologised for interrupting. Yuri had simply given him a haughty look and said that Otabek’s company didn't bother him. After that Otabek had seen the last 15 minutes of Yuri’s routine almost every morning. He could always make his morning run a little longer to let Yuri practice in peace, but the lines at the coffee shop would be abysmal by then so he preferred to go there earlier. ( Otabek, you’re such a loser.)
Otabek marveled how Yuri had took up yoga to calm his nerves. It had been Otabek’s idea, actually. Yuri had pushed himself to his limits, even off-season leaving for a morning run including interval training up and down stairs on top of polishing his old and new choreographies. Otabek hadn’t needed to be a psychic to see the burnout in Yuri’s future with a day routine like that. He’d talked to Lilia and Yuri and suggested yoga as an alternative to the ballet Yuri did at the dance studio, because he still sometimes rushed through his skating programs, too eager and harsh to count the beats and the silences between sets, and Otabek saw yoga as a way to get more patience. Yuri had bitched and moaned loudly , of course, but he hadn’t downright refused to try it, and that told a lot. After a few hasty, messy tries Yuri had found something in the sport. Whether it was some inner peace, a permission to slow down for a bit, a way to get in touch how his body was feeling today or just a way to get his body to bend in killer positions, it didn't matter to Otabek. What did was that now Yuri took his time with the yoga sequences, breathing deeper than he had in the last year and a half, and looked peaceful.
Since Otabek had suggested the whole idea, Yuri saw Otabek as someone who he could confide in and ask for help and look for Youtube videos together. It didn't bother Otabek; he loved seeing Yuri getting excited and sharing his thoughts about anything - he was so closed and private sometimes that every bit of information brought Otabek closer to Yuri, he felt.
The dance studio Yuri practiced in was a fucking miracle. It was big and airy and it had the height of at least four meters. One of the longest walls was just a big window, the view showing a snowy Moscow waking up to another busy day. Here, up in the studio, they were isolated. The noise of the city was far away and it was easy to feel like the only two people in the world.
The sunrise was especially fine today. The warmth and light was pouring through the huge window, making the room incredibly attractive and luxurious looking. Otabek only appreciated the sight for a second or two, though, before his eyes slid to the blond, petite boy in front of one of the smaller walls that had a mirror on it. He had a burgundy yoga mat on the floor, and he was currently doing something Otabek recognised as a downward facing dog. Both his hands and legs were on the floor, arse in the air. His head was between his hands, and he was pushing himself down from his shoulders, stretching his hamstrings.
Otabek tried not to fixate on how Yuri made that position look but instead focused on Yuri’s appearance. The boy was wearing a simple, black t-shirt but he had bright, tight space-coloured leggings on. Really, where did he find these things? The leggings were kind of cool though, he thought, dots and spirals creating a galaxy-like picture. They were no doubt very expensive. One of the things Yuri had gladly took up was that he could buy tons of new yoga clothes for this, and he had. Otabek swore there was an Amazon package waiting for him at least once a week.
Yuri’s hair was in a hastily made bun (such a welcomed look compared to his tight, meticulously done braids he wore while skating), most of the hair flowing wherever they wanted. It was a lot longer now, almost reaching on shoulder blades. It was thick and wavy and Otabek was obsessed with it.
He sipped his coffee and sat down cross-legged on the ground. He should have used the time to stretch, but the more gladly looked at the boy before him.
Yuri had found that he could also do very strenuous yoga sequences, slow and yet very exhausting movements after which his muscles trembled and his body was sheened with sweat, hair plastered on his forehead. G ood, Otabek always thought. It was good for Yuri to see he could safely push himself without doing reckless, merciless push-ups or having two-hour runs. Slow and easy was good for him for a change. Yuri had a habit of pushing himself far and still beating himself up for not pushing further - it was good that he’d found something gentler to do with his body.
The sequences he did when he wanted to work out were rough, though. He did something that had a ‘flow' in the name. Prana flow, vinyasa flow? Something like that. Otabek had understood the idea once he’d seen Yuri sliding from one position to another, movements never stopping. From his knees to a high lunge to warrior one to trikonasana and then parsvottanasana. Repeat, then continue for 90 minutes. Instead doing separate positions he glided from one to another.
But today, it was the non-sweaty sequence. Yuri was waking himself up, repeating positions that stretched his limbs. He’d had trouble to get to his usual level of flexibility and movement in the last couple of days. But instead of forcing his body and getting frustrated, Yuri was patient and kind to his body, and Otabek was so proud.
Otabek didn't fully believe all the chakras and auras and the nonsense some of the Youtube yoga instructors babbled on about, but he did see a difference in Yuri.
Yuri had lowered his palms against the mat and straightened his knees. He swayed himself a little from side to side, neck hanging and that mess of a hair falling everywhere. He put his forehead against his right leg and put his hands a little forward for support. Then he straightened his left leg behind him, slowly lifting it up towards the sky, luring his body into a standing split. His legs were almost at 180 degrees, one pointing up and the other safely on the ground. It was fricking early and the boy was doing splits, good god. No matter what he did, Otabek never was as flexible as Yuri was.
Warmth spread in Otabek’s middle and he breathed deep. Don’t fuck this up , he reminded himself like he always did when he started to feel things towards the blond.
“Come help me with something?” Yuri broke the silence, stopping Otabek’s train of thought. He had straightened himself into a standing position and was rolling his shoulders to relieve the tension in his neck.
Otabek nodded, then walked up behind Yuri who met his eyes through the mirror.
“Hold my leg up”, Yuri said. He extended his left leg up to his side, and Otabek took it by the calf. Yuri grabbed the toes of that foot with his left hand and kept his right hand on his hip. Otabek could feel the tension in Yuri and knew already what this was about.
“How’s your back?” He asked. Yuri had had quite a bad landing in training a week ago. He’d fallen on his side, hurting his hip. The pain now radiated to his back, too. Yuri was, understandably, freaking out. Otabek had accompanied Yuri to see the doctor and luckily, there shouldn’t be anything wrong, broken or permanently damaged. Otabek still understood the boy’s anxiousness.
Yuri had a frown on his forehead as he tried to widen his hasta padangusthasana. “I have trouble with hip-openers. Shit.”
Otabek wanted to reach out, brush away the messy hair and kiss Yuri’s neck, but that definitely wouldn’t be appreciated. So instead he stepped a little bit closer. He slid his hand holding Yuri’s leg a little bit further, grabbing his ankle. He then put his other hand on Yuri’s waist, below where the boy kept his own hand.
“You’re leaning too much on the outside of your sole”, he said. “Lean your left leg against my arm, I’ll support you.”
Yuri did exactly that. He swayed a little, but Otabek’s grip didn't budge. He saw Yuri flexing his ankle against the floor, pressing the inside of his sole more firmly to it.
“Now, press the left side of your hips down ”, Otabek continued. He put his hand that wasn’t supporting Yuri on his lower back. “I can feel the tension in your core. Press now, please.”
Yuri huffed. His eyes were fixed on Otabek through the mirror. He was biting the inside of his cheek in concentration. Otabek knew Yuri would feel the inside of his left thigh stretching more due to the change as well as his hips.
“Do I always keep my core muscles too tight?” Yuri asked.
“Sometimes. But you have to when you’re skating; it’s not a surprise it’s difficult to let go”, Otabek said. “Keep pressing down and push your tailbone forward a bit.”
He pushed his palm gently on Yuri’s lower back. Yuri sighed and lost some of the tension in him. He leaned back against Otabek just the tiniest bit. His leg had crept up towards the ceiling more. Otabek moved his hand from Yuri’s ankle to his knee, then his thigh. Yuri had to use his own strength to keep his knee and ankle straight and towards the ceiling, Otabek only helping by keeping his hand on the underside of Yuri’s thigh.
Otabe did his best to keep his hand still instead of running it along Yuri’s warm, firm thigh. Being so close, he could smell Yuri. Yuri’s hair always smelled like the flowery leave-in conditioner he used. Having a longer hair resulted in wearing a lot of braids, pony tails and messy buns to get it out of his way. And sometimes after sweating in practice, he had trouble getting all the kinks and tangles out and thus used a shitload of conditioner to take care of it.
His hair was lovely, knots or no knots. But Otabek’s favourite moment of the day was when he got go see Yuri wake up and witness the bird’s nest in all its glory before Yuri tamed it.
It was Yuri’s own fault Otabek was so obsessed with the hair. The Russian asked Otabek to sort out the kinks in it whenever he was too tired to do it by himself or just couldn’t be bothered to. Touching that angel hair and smelling it and being close to the person who it belonged to,who just happened to be the most beautiful thing he’d ever encountered? Otabek didn't even stand a chance.
Some people said Yuri looked like Viktor when he’d had long hair. Otabek didn't think so. At least he’d never had any impulse to drown himself in Nikiforov’s hair.
“Alright”, Otabek said finally. “Better?”
Yuri considered. “Yes”, he then said. “This feels better.”
“Want help with the other leg?”
“No, I think I got it now.”
Otabek nodded and helped Yuri’s leg down. He backed out, taking his place near the door. He slid down the wall and resumed to drinking his coffee. He would’ve gladly helped Yuri some more and tried not to look too obvious about it. He knew it was for the best, though. It was only a matter of time before Yuri realised where Otabek stood.
Otabek dug out his phone so that he didn't have to see Yuri looking at himself in the mirror with flushed cheeks and a mesmerising, concentrated look.
He scrolled through his news feeds aimlessly. He rarely posted anything anywhere but he still liked to keep up with everyone's lives. Liking an Instagram picture was way easier than actually calling and asking what’s up. And, Otabek reminded himself, Yuri was extremely active online and he liked to see Yuri's pictures and updates.
A new message appeared on his screen. Otabek smiled.
“Viktor and Yuuri send his greetings from Bali”, he said.
“Bali?” Yuri was doing his last stretches, forehead against the floor and legs bunched up beneath him. Like a sleeping baby.
“Mm. That’s where they went for the honeymoon. They also sent a picture, want to see?”
“If it resembles in any way the picture Viktor posted on Instagram that got deleted by the staff, then no. ”
Otabek cringed. Yeah, that had been a bit much. No matter it had been deleted; the whole world had seen it since it had spread all over the web like a wildfire. He personally could have lived without knowing Viktor had at least once eaten sushi out of Yuuri’s naked form and calling it “a Japanese treat”. Viktor and Yuuri’s love was special and adorable but sometimes they went a little too far with sharing their love to everyone.
“It’s just a picture of them on the beach. Wow, Katsuki is pale .”
“Shut up, you’re ruining my day”, Yuri snarled. He rolled his yoga mat and stuffed it in a bag that had rhinestones in it.
“Ready to go?” Otabek asked and Yuri nodded.
“Just let me put on my coat.”
They didn't talk about Otabek’s prolonged stay in Moscow. They didn't talk about their daily routines, training together and watching b-list films in the evenings, cooking food and talking shit on Yuri’s fancy sofa.
They’d even gone to Viktor and Yuuri’s wedding together. The invitation had been a plus one, but they’d still arrived there together, sat together, dined together. They hadn’t danced, mind you. Of course there had been a dance-off to reminiscence Viktor and Yuuri’s beginning. Yuri had danced, of course, because he was brilliant at it and loved to win. Otabek hadn’t - he’d just sat there drinking champagne, watched Yuri go at it and tried not to feel horrible about it.
Yuri was putting on his coat - a coat Otabek had bought for him. Otabek smiled and tried not to look smug. He’d given the coat as a Christmas present. It was a horrible -looking denim coat with parts of turquoise and pink cotton fabric patches stitched on it. It had a warm fur on the inside and a big, fluffy hood. It was supposed to be vintage. Yuri had seen it in a shop in Astana when he’d visited Otabek in Kazakhstan (yes, they’d done that too). Later, back in Russia, Yuri had desperately tried to Google the coat but the second-hand shop didn't have an online shop, so Yuri had sulkily given up.
Luckily Otabek had some friends in Astana. He’d called to an old high-school friend and asked them to go buy the coat and send it to Moscow. Otabek would always remember the utter surprise and joy in Yuri’s face when he’d opened his present.
Yuri had also gotten him a present: new leather gloves to wear while riding his motorcycle. Otabek loved them and wore them all the time; the leather was soft and luxurious and the gloves fit him perfectly.
Sometimes Otabek swore he’d seen something flash in Yuri’s eyes when he’d first put on the gloves and flexed his fingers. It had only lasted a second and anyway, so Otabek had probably imagined it.
He desperately wanted more. But Yuri was so young and determined. He didn't have a lot of friends around and Otabek didn't want to fuck up their friendship because he was head over heels in love with the boy. He didn't want Yuri to think that he couldn’t trust Otabek ,and he felt that telling Yuri he’d been dreaming of kissing him all this time they’d been together would be a bit like pulling a rug from under his feet.
So instead, Otabek averted his gaze and took a long swig of his lukewarm coffee. Days spent with Yuri - kissing or not - made him happy and he’d rather be his best friend than risk anything for his own, stupid feelings.
“Let’s go, then.”