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If pressed, Victor would not be able to give a reason for why he has been following Katsuki Yuuri for the past few minutes. It was nearly two in the morning when Celestino had firmly grabbed Yuuri by the shoulder, handing him what he could find of the clothes Yuuri had been gradually losing and regaining all night, and marched him out of the ballroom.
Victor hadn't wanted him to leave.
A voice slurring out 'be my coach, Victor!' is ringing in his head as he glances around the room to see if anyone is watching him, and they aren't. The party is carrying on, even though the person who had initiated it was gone.
He slips out silently and follows Yuuri and his coach through the twisting hallways of the hotels in which the banquet is being held. Not wanting to have to explain himself, he stays as far away as he can without losing them. Eventually, Celestino stops and sits Yuuri down on one of the tables decorating the hallways. Victor realizes they've stopped at a quiet side entrance of the hotel.
"Yuuri." Celestino's voice is firm. "Sit right here, I'm going to get a driver to pull around to the side, and we will go to the hotel. You need to sleep and our flight's in the morning." Yuuri doesn't say anything, just swings his feet, and Celestino sighs. "Stay here."
Celestino leaves, and Yuuri is fidgeting with the phone cord next to him on the table, when Victor makes a decision. He steps out of his hiding spot- which is really just a corner he was peeking around- and clears his throat to get Yuuri's attention.
"Victor!"
Victor doesn't think he's ever seen anyone so excited to see him, except for maybe Makkachin, as Yuuri rises off his perch on the low table and runs at Victor. For a minute Victor thinks he's going to hug him again, but Yuuri stops at the last second. Height disparity aside, their faces are only a few inches apart.
Victor wants to kiss him.
He doesn't. Victor knows Yuuri is very, very drunk, and is trying to be mindful of his altered state, and while that knowledge does determine his actions, it can't change what he's thinking about- what he wants. And what he wants is to kiss Katsuki Yuuri senseless in this quiet hotel hallway.
And, Victor reasons, he feels rather drunk himself. Drunk on having the best night of his life, drunk on the magic of dancing with a beautiful stranger, drunk on the potential of the phrase ‘be my coach, Victor!’
"Victor?" Yuuri says again, this time a question, and Victor realizes with a start that he hasn't said anything yet. He can't recall the last time he was this flustered.
"I like your dancing, Yuuri," he says, which is maybe the understatement of the century, and Yuuri grins so wide that it makes Victor wish he had said something more forward so he could have seen what response it would have elicited.
"Victor," Yuuri murmurs, like it's the only thing he can say. And then, "Are you... why are you here, Victor?"
Giving a good-natured smile, Victor shrugs. "You are very drunk, I wanted to make sure you got to the car safely." He hopes that Yuuri is so drunk he doesn't realize that he had clearly left with his coach, not just took off alone, making Victor's claim an obvious lie.
Given the look Yuuri gives him, Victor is certain that Yuuri can see right through him but he doesn't say anything, just continues to smile. Victor pities himself for every day that he has spent without seeing that smile.
And then, suddenly, Yuuri’s expression turns serious. “Last night, you asked if I wanted a picture."
There’s an immediate ache in Victor’s stomach, guilt for the awkward encounter in which he hadn't recognized Yuuri as a fellow competitor. “I’m sorry about that, Yuuri. In my defense, I had never seen you with your glasses and-”
"Shh!" Yuuri holds a finger up to Victor's mouth, shocking him into silence. The rapid movement wobbles Yuuri a little, just enough for his finger to brush against Victor's lips, which in turn is just enough for Victor's mind to go completely blank. "I do."
Victor probably stares for a solid half minute before shaking himself from his trance, forcing himself to push aside the feeling of Yuuri's finger on his lips to analyze later. "You do... what?"
"I do want a picture!" Yuuri flails his arms a little. "I want a picture with you now." It's almost a whine. The alcohol is making everything he says expressive in a way that makes Victor wish he would never stop talking.
Victor doesn’t know what he had thought Yuuri was going to say, but it wasn’t that. “O-oh, of course! We can get a picture together.”
Yuuri grins brightly, like he had been expecting Victor to refuse him. It dawns on Victor that he can’t imagine refusing this man anything right now. He never wants him to look anything but happy. The grin only lasts a second, however, as Yuuri hastily pulls his phone out of his pocket to find the screen black and the battery dead. His expression can't be described as anything except distraught as he holds the device out to Victor, apparently expecting him to have a fix.
Victor pats Yuuri's shoulder, placating. "It's alright, Yuuri, we can take it on my phone!" He tries all of his pockets before it dawns on him that he had never gotten his phone back from Chris after thrusting it into his hands and telling him to take pictures the moment Yuuri had pointed his drunken sights on Victor, grabbing at him and practically ordering Victor to dance with him. He imagines that his own expression is pretty distraught as he holds out his empty hands and explains. "I left it with Chris. I... I had wanted pictures of us dancing."
There's a sudden clarity in Yuuri's expression, and he looks something other than carefree for the first time since Victor had seen him down what must have been his twelveth flute of champagne. "Th-there are pictures of us dancing?" He sounds embarrassed.
Victor wants to tell him that if the idea of a picture of them dancing existing embarrasses him then they have a pretty big problem, since there are pictures of Yuuri literally standing on Chris's thighs while pole dancing at a formal event, but when he sees Celestino through the glass door, heading back up to receive Yuuri, he's struck by the fact that he really doesn't want Yuuri to leave without getting a picture.
"Hey," Victor grabs Yuuri's shoulders and looks him in the eyes, trying to be comforting. "I'm sure no one will post any of them. Your flight is in the morning, yes?"
Yuuri nods but just barely, and Victor is surprised by how quickly he has gone from life-of-the-party drunk to sleepy drunk.
"Find me in the morning, and we can get our picture together." He thanks heaven there's a notepad next to the phone on the table, and jots down his number. Yuuri's hands are lax at his sides, so Victor grabs one and places the slip of paper in his palm. "Text me."
Yuuri’s face is suddenly red, and Victor marvels at how someone could proudly pole dance on another man’s thighs- stupid, stupid, lucky Chris- but blush beautifully at someone giving him their number. Yuuri folds the piece of paper reverently before gently slipping it into his pocket and looking back up at Victor, eyes shining. Victor finds his hands on Yuuri's shoulders again, and Yuuri lifts up his own hands to softly grab Victor's wrists. He opens his mouth to say something but-
"Yuuri! Time to get you to bed!" Yuuri's coach has returned and is giving Victor a look he can't quite read. Victor takes his hands off of Yuuri's shoulders and Celestino replaces them with his own, starting to pull Yuuri away. "Say goodnight to Victor, Yuuri."
Yuuri lets Celestino direct him to the side door, clearly getting more tired every minute, but he's looking back. "Good night, Victor." His voice is soft, and oh god, Victor could get used to hearing that every night.
In a blink, Yuuri is gone, and the door is swinging shut. Victor allows himself to lean back against the table and stare at the spot where he had stood, reveling in the lingering feeling of Yuuri's hands on his wrists.
Victor spends all morning waiting for Yuuri to text him, forcing himself to hold off until noon before starting to ask around. It takes a while before anyone knows but eventually he finds Sara Crispino, who tells him that Yuuri's flight had left at eight that morning.
Victor feels like someone had thrown a drink in his face.
Three days after the banquet, when Yuuri hasn’t texted him, Victor curses himself for not having gotten Yuuri’s number as well- if Yuuri even would’ve been sober enough to remember it, Victor thinks, planting a new worry in his mind. What if Yuuri’s drunkenness had been the only reason he’d showed any interest in Victor, and he was now regretting the entire ordeal? Victor had been going to allow himself one day to relax, to be with Makachin and rest, but the thought of his relationship with Yuuri being over before it even began makes him abandon his plans and head to the rink. For once, even as he pushes himself harder than he has in a long while, he can’t clear his mind.
Three months after the banquet, when Yuuri had never texted him, Victor watches Georgi breaks down crying in the middle of the rink when a warm up song playing reminds him of Anya. Mila goes to comfort him, looking a little alarmed, and Yuri looks like he’s going to combust from anger. Victor can’t help but think that the song reminds him a little bit of Yuuri too.
Six months after the banquet, when the thought of how Yuuri never texted him is somehow still on his mind, Victor is conflicted about his program for the upcoming season. It was supposed to be about skating, about how his love for skating was the one true, constant thing in his life. About how when everything else faded away he would always, unconditionally love skating- even if it didn’t love him back, he thinks, every part of his body aching from the constant physical distress it’s put under.
But the piece has a different arrangement, one that calls to Victor and makes him waffle on his decision.
The story in his mind when he listens to the song strikes a chord. The idea of skating about his love for skating suddenly seems fake and pretentious while skating to the heartache of being rejected by someone he had met once seems painstakingly honest.
The song is called On Love: Eros, and the only thing on Victor’s mind as he begins to choreograph it is brown eyes, drunken grins, and how he had gotten his heart broken just a little bit by the most beautiful man he had ever seen.
And nearly two years after the banquet, when Yuuri is sleepily scrolling through instagram while the two of them laze around in their bed, Victor snatches the phone out of his fiance’s hand. Yuuri makes an affronted noise but quiets when Victor squirms closer, so that he’s practically on Yuuri’s lap, and pulls up the front facing camera. He takes three pictures, only a few seconds between them like a photo booth. Victor clicks off the phone and doesn’t even look at pictures he took, doesn’t need to when he has the real thing right in front of him.
“What has that for?” There’s a light blush on Yuuri’s cheeks, but his smile is fond and knowing.
Victor returns the smile, and then the phone. “I just wanted a picture with you.”