Chapter Text
Fall 2014
Yuuri Katsuki’s heart races as he runs down a long, narrow hallway, his backpack hanging recklessly over one shoulder. His eyes flit between the doors on either side of him; their large, black numbers staring back at him almost mockingly. Where the hell is that room? He stops and breathes for a second and looks around until he sees a small piece of paper affixed to a wall at the end of the hallway. He runs up to it and reads it quickly--
Symphonics Auditions: This Way!
By some miracle, he’d found where to go. He had never been to this part of the music building before; these were the rooms dedicated to vocal students. Oh, thank god, he thinks.
Yuuri hears his phone beep several times, and he stops, taking it out of his pocket, frustrated.
To Yuuri (6:30PM)
Please don’t ignore me.
To Yuuri (6:31PM)
You know it’s your fault. We need to talk, now.
God damn it, he thinks, trying to fight back the tears as he switches his phone to silent mode. Of all the days…
He follows the arrow on the sign down the hallway to his right, and then he sees it: the small crowd of people waiting outside Room 231b. Panting, he slows his pace and finds an empty spot on a wall just a few paces down, next to a guy in a dark t-shirt.
“Hey there!” the guy says as soon as he sets his backpack down. Yuuri looks at him, with his neat hair cut and ‘Hello, My Name Is’ name tag with the name Jean-Jacques “J.J.” Leroy written messily on it. “You here to audition, too?”
His voice is way too loud for Yuuri’s liking. He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket again. He ignores it.
“Yeah,” Yuuri replies, his legs still shaky from running as he glances over J.J.’s shoulders at the other auditionees mingling in the hall. He starts to feel that familiar weight on his chest, but he ignores it for now. “Yeah, auditions.”
“Me too,” J.J. says with a laugh. “My second audition of the day!”
“Nice.”
J.J. stares at him. “You’re not much of a talker, are you?”
“Just...a little nervous.” Yuuri tugs at his sweater collar, taking a deep breath. “Um, do you mind? I think I just need a little space.”
“Okay, okay,” J.J. replies. “Say, before I leave you alone - I never got your name.”
“Yuuri Katsuki.”
Another text.
“Nice to meet you, Yuuri. I’m J.J. Hope to see you at callbacks!”
J.J. stalks off to talk to other auditionees and Yuuri breathes a sigh of relief as he pulls his water bottle out of his backpack and takes a swig. He takes his folded audition form out of his pocket and reviews everything he wrote, from his name down to listing his musical experience.
You’ve got this, okay? Everything’s totally going to be--
“Yuuri Katsuki?” a voice calls out. Yuuri’s head whips up so quickly he feels a sharp pain on his neck, and he rubs it gingerly as he stands up. He sees a tall young woman with red hair poking out of Room 231b. He recognizes her almost immediately - she was a soloist at the spring concert his roommate had dragged him to last spring.
“H-hi!” he says, waving. He pulls his vibrating phone out of his pocket and dumps it in his backpack. She gestures for him to come over, and Yuuri nearly trips over his own feet as he power-walks to the door. She steps to the side and closes the door behind him.
Yuuri stares at the room before him - it’s small; the ceiling is high, though, and he hears his own footsteps echo against the tile. Good acoustics.
“Go ahead and take a seat right there,” the redhead says, pointing to a chair at the center of the room.
The center of the room.
Yuuri nods slowly, suppressing a nervous gulp, and he makes his way to the middle and sits down, setting his bag down on the floor next to him. He stares at the panel of people sitting in front of him - only one of the seats seem to be empty.
“Hi, Yuuri. I’m Mila Babicheva, the vice president of The Symphonics,” the redhead says with a smile. “Thanks for coming today. Okay, so,” she says, clapping her hands. “Everyone else, introduce yourselves.”
Everyone at the table introduces themselves quickly, and Yuuri barely has any time to register any of their names.
“Unfortunately, our co-music director, Victor couldn’t make it today. Had a class scheduled tonight,” Mila says with a sigh. “Also, are you okay with us recording your audition?”
She extends a tripod with a DSLR atop it.
Oh, no. “Yeah, yeah, totally fine,” Yuuri says, almost a little too loudly.
“Alright, show us what you’ve got. Christophe, piano.”
Yuuri stands up way too quickly, and he nearly loses his balance as the guy named Christophe sits down at the baby grand next to him.
“So,” Christophe says as he plays a chord, “We’re just going to test your range. This okay to start? We’re gonna go up first. Sing on the syllable ‘oo.’”
Yuuri nods, wringing his hands together, palms sweaty.
“Whenever you’re ready.”
When Yuuri opens his mouth, something garbled comes out. He clasps his hands over his mouth immediately.
“It’s okay, I know this is nerve-wracking, but you’ve got nothing to worry about,” Mila says kindly. She looks over at Christophe, who nods and plays the opening chord and the tonic.
Silence.
Taking a shaky breath, Yuuri shuts his eyes and starts doing the warm-up. Okay. So far, so good.
And then, his voice cracks.
And then he makes a run for the door.
He hears Mila call after him, and then J.J., but he doesn’t stop running until after he exits the music building.
Fall 2015
City University A Cappella Presents:
PITCH-A-THON
A Concert Featuring CU’s A Cappella Groups
Hosted by The Symphonics
7PM, The Angelou Center Auditorium
Yuuri Katsuki stares at the poster hanging on the bulletin board outside of his apartment building, and lets out a loud sigh, hugging his bag of groceries closer to his chest. He hears his roommate huffing behind him, dragging a large 40-pack case of bottled water.
“Yuuri, I thought you were going to open the door,” Phichit Chulanont grunts as he struggles to hold on to the plastic edges of the case. “I can’t--ugh--hold this much longer.”
“Ah, sorry!” Yuuri exclaims, grabbing the other end of the case. Phichit raises his eyebrows and looks at the poster as the two of them begin to head upstairs.
“You should go, you know,” he says, breathless as they finally reach their third-floor apartment. “It won’t hurt.”
“What are you talking about?” Yuuri says nervously as he unlocks the door.
Phichit rolls his eyes. “You know what I’m talking about. The a cappella concert.”
“I’m not auditioning.”
“You don’t have to be auditioning,” Phichit reasons, dragging the case and leaving it by the front door. “It’s just a welcome concert! You know the drill. Everyone dresses up, shows off, The Symphonics brag about being CU’s ‘ premiere a cappella group ’ and blah, blah, blah. At least go for the music. Go for me! I don’t have a solo because Mickey’s being mean like always, but still, go! All of our friends are gonna be there!”
“All of your friends,” Yuuri says with a slight smile as he peels his shoes off and makes his way to the kitchen to put away their groceries. “I just know them by association.”
“Alai wah," Phichit laughs, pushing his shoulder playfully and taking his phone out. “Okay, a cappella talk later, selfie time now.”
“Really?” Yuuri says with a snort as he turns to face Phichit’s camera.
“To our first Costco trip of the year!” Phichit chimes as he takes the photo, the two of them laughing happily. As Phichit tucks his phone in his pocket, he adds, “Okay, a cappella talk, again. If you want to go to the concert, text me before doors open so I can rope a seat off for you in the back.”
“Shouldn’t you be getting ready now?” Yuuri laughs. “Okay, fine, I’ll text you if I end up going. AMSA at seven.”
“That’s tonight?” Phichit exclaims, taking his phone again out to look at his Google Calendar. “Huh. I didn’t get the notification. Whatever. Looks like I’m gonna miss it. Come on, Yuuri, ditch it. Just come to the show!”
“I said I’ll let you know!”
“Okay, fine. I better see that back row seat filled.”
“I thought you weren’t going to rope it off until I texted you later?”
“This way you’ll go for sure.”
“Ugh.”
Phichit pat Yuuri on the shoulder and runs into his room, grabs his backpack, and bolts out the front again, yelling, “See you later, roomie!” Yuuri jumps a little as the door slams shut behind his roommate and lets out a sigh of relief.
He walks straight to his room and pulls the cover off his keyboard, and traces the plastic keys lightly with his fingers before turning it on.
Yuuri closes his eyes for a brief second, takes a deep breath, and begins to play. He lets himself go, allowing his hands to work their way about the keys, and he begins to sing quietly. He sings and sings, until his phone lights up with a notification:
Open Mic Night, 7PM @ The Peak
When Yuuri enters the The Peak, he immediately feels like he wants to go home. He clutches his music notebook tightly to his chest and scans the tiny crowd; the venue is small and intimate. He takes a seat close to the bar, looking around at all of the show posters and kitschy little paintings that cover the cafe’s wall.
He feels a little bad lying to Phichit about the AMSA meeting, but at the same time he didn’t - he’d been planning to go to this open mic event for weeks now, ever since he saw the event page on Facebook. He sits and watch some of the opening performances, getting just a little more nervous after each one.
No. Stop it. Not tonight.
After what feels like an eternity, the host gets up on stage and announces: “Up next, we have Yuuri, a third year general bio major and musician!”
Yuuri stands up quickly, and walks towards the stage, feeling everyone’s eyes on him as he sits down at the cafe’s piano and adjusts the microphone just a little.
“Hi, everyone,” he says, clearing his throat. “I haven’t done this in a while, so, um, please enjoy.”
He inhales and exhales deeply, and starts playing.
When Yuuri performs (in front of people) for the first time in years, he feels like an entirely new person. He feels a formerly dormant flame flicker within his chest as he allows himself to get lost in the music, his hands sliding across the keyboard as he plays out the intro to Runnin’ . And, when he finally feels ready, he allows himself to start singing.
It’s almost cathartic. He’d been practicing the song quietly in his and Phichit’s apartment for weeks, way before his roommate had moved back in. He came across it by chance online while browsing for new music. Upon hearing the first chords, he knew that he wanted this to be the song that would slowly get him back into the groove since wasn’t taking many music classes this year. It seemed like fate was playing games with him when he saw the event page for the open mic night at The Peak.
He hears the small audience murmur, and out of the corner of his eye spots few phones lifted up - probably to take photos, or to ignore him altogether; there were plenty of more talented acts lined up for the evening. He feels that familiar, weird feeling in his gut, but pushes on.
Yuuri thinks back on that failed Symphonics audition - a day that was already made terrible by his huge argument with Junya, his ex, and the death of Vicchan all in one go. The pressure had been on to make the day end on a good note. It didn’t.
And he’s all the more better for it.
Well, for the most part.
He finishes the song, and he’s given polite applause by the people in the audience. His chest feels much lighter as he packs up his sheet music and does a quick little bow, pink in the face. Some people compliment him and his performance as he heads out, and he shakes their hands quickly. After what feels like rolling through a comforting, compliment-full fog, he begins the mad dash across campus to make it to the Angelou Center in time for the end of Pitch-A-Thon.
Yuuri hears loud cheers coming from the auditorium when he approaches the front doors of the Center.
The crowd is so huge; it spills out into the foyer as people try to listen in on the groups performing.
“Excuse me,” Yuuri asks another student, panting, “Which group just performed?”
The other student, a shorter, blond kid, frowns at him. “Should’ve gotten here earlier.”
Slightly taken aback, Yuuri rolls his eyes and squeezes through, yelping out quick apologies as he weaves through the crowds. When he finally makes it to the seated area, he notices the back seat roped off for him, pulls off the tape, and sits down, only to see Phichit’s group, Vocal Point, bow and walk off the stage to raucous applause.
Ah, damn it, Yuuri thinks, sighing. A young woman, who Yuuri recognized as Phichit’s groupmate, Sara Crispino, walks on stage, holding a small set of notecards. I guess she’s the emcee tonight.
“And that was my group, Vocal Point! Thank you so much to all of you for coming out tonight - it’s a packed house! Just don’t tell the fire marshall.” Scattered laughter. “Okay, okay, up last, but certainly not least--” Sara flips through her cards. Yuuri, for a brief second, thinks he sees her rolling her eyes--he knows who’s up next, and he grips his arm rests a little too tightly.
“Last but not least, we have the very first a cappella group founded here at City University. Alright, everyone, give it up for The Symphonics!”
If the cheers for Vocal Point had been loud, the screams for The Symphonics were up several decibels. Yuuri’s breath slightly catches in his chest when he sees Mila Babicheva, Christophe Giacometti, and him, Victor Nikiforov, walk up on stage with the rest of their group, looking classy as ever.
Yuuri bites his lip as he sees them take a very familiar formation on stage. Oh, this is their 2015 ICCA finals set, he remembers. He’d pored over the YouTube video hundreds of times, listening to every harmony and beat made, picking up the nuances of each arrangement. The group had won the 2015 ICCA Finals, sweeping most the awards.
The pitch pipe is blown, and then, The Symphonics kick off their set with last year’s best arrangement - and the song that had earned Victor Nikiforov the 2015 best arrangement award (and Christophe the best soloist award at the Southwestern Semifinals), “Gibberish.” It’s a poppy and extremely catchy tune - there is no denying that the Symphonics want everyone to know that they are the best CU has to offer, and weren’t going anywhere. Their harmonies echo off the walls of the auditorium, and the audience is enraptured.
Especially Yuuri. The song ends, and the pitch pipe goes off again to signal the second song, “Collar Full” - it’s a slowed-down arrangement of the Panic! At the Disco tune that Yuuri wished had won best arrangement instead: it’s a Victor Nikiforov masterpiece.
And Victor himself was the soloist.
Yuuri remembers the first time he watched Victor perform live on campus. He’d opened right before some indie band at The Peak during freshman year; Yuuri had gone to the show on a whim after Phichit had convinced him to. Victor had longer hair back then, tied up in a messy bun as he played some song covers and original tunes.
Yuuri remembers falling for his voice, well-trained and smooth. After that, he only saw Victor in person a few more times around campus, in one or two music classes they’d shared (they were classes with over one hundred students - general education courses), and at The Symphonics’ Spring Concert at the end of his second year, after Victor had cut his hair to its current length. Other than that, he (and most of the students at City University) had subscribed to Victor’s popular YouTube channel and watched him perform there.
Yuuri finds himself staring at Victor and takes a deep breath and looks away quickly as they finish the second song and breeze through their third and final tune.
The entire audience is on their feet by the end of it, clapping so loud that Yuuri finds himself joining in on the standing ovation.
They’re as good as ever, he thinks wistfully.
Much of the crowd disperses after the show, and a handful of students stick around to visit the groups’ booths in the back of the auditorium. Yuuri finds Phichit at the Vocal Point table and gives his roommate a hug.
“Saw you come in late,” Phichit says with a fake frown. “But, you made it just in time for the finale. I’m glad you came anyway,” he adds, smiling and clapping his friend on the shoulder.
“Yeah, I’m sorry. I’ll explain later.”
Phichit raises his eyebrows when he notices Yuuri clutching his music notebook. “You didn’t go to an AMSA meeting, didn’t you?”
“Go, talk to the potential new kids,” Yuuri says, shooing Phichit playfully. Phichit grins and gives Yuuri one last hug before talking to his groupmates and a gaggle of first years with a hundred questions.
When Yuuri is about to exit the auditorium, he hears an all-too familiar voice call out, “Yuuri! Yuuri Katsuki?”
He braces himself and turns around with a slightly forced smile. “J.J.! Hi.”
“Glad you came to the show. Did you like our performance?”
Yuuri scratches the back of his head, embarrassed. “Sorry, I came in right as Vocal Point ended.”
“Oh, man. You missed a damn good set,” J.J. says, a little too cockily. “Pitch Slapped is trying to compete this year. You should audition.”
“Nah,” Yuuri says, shaking his head. “I’m good. But good luck at ICCAs. You’re all going to be great.”
After another minute of talking, J.J. excuses himself to join his group - CU’s only all-male a cappella group, Pitch Slapped - and hand out flyers. Yuuri continues heading towards the door, a little absent-minded as he stares at the seven tables representing his school’s seven a cappella groups.
My dumb luck , he thinks, taking a deep breath as he starts to walk a little faster as he gets closer to The Symphonics’ table, which is positioned right next to the door. He pulls his beanie down a little and looks right at the ground, trying not to look at them, when--
“Ooof.”
“I’m so sorry!”
“No, no, it’s totally okay, you’re fine!”
Yuuri’s notebook had fallen to the floor, pages spilling out. Frantic, he starts picking up the pages and his hand meets that of the person he’d bumped into--
And then, their eyes meet.
Oh my god.
“I’m so sorry, I should pay more attention,” Victor Nikiforov says apologetically, sounding a little breathless as he hands Yuuri a stack of fallen sheet music.
At a loss for words, Yuuri blinks and swallows. “No, it’s okay. I...I wasn’t paying attention. T-thanks,” he stutters as he collects the rest of the sheet music, stands up and runs straight out the door.
“Wait!”
He feels Victor’s eyes staring into his back as he pushes the Auditorium doors open and hurries back to his apartment.
“You performed? Yuuri!” Phichit exclaims, scandalized as he takes a sip of his tea. “I’m not mad that you didn’t watch the full concert, or anything, I’m just really upset you didn’t tell me that you sang last night. In public.”
Yuuri sighs, shutting his genetics textbook. “I just...I just needed to do something, you know? I’d been practicing the song for a while--”
“I know, I heard you sing it in the bathroom,” Phichit says with a shrug. Yuuri’s eyes widen in horror. “What? I sing in the shower, too.”
“I…” Yuuri’s at a loss for words. “I’m sorry.”
Phichit’s eyes soften. “It’s okay. I forgive you. Did someone at least record it?”
“No,” Yuuri says.
“You are no fun,” Phichit groans. “Anyway, you’ll have to perform it for me sometime. Wait! Now that you’re singing in public again, does that mean--”
“No, Phichit, I’m not going to audition for an a cappella group this year. We know what happened last time.”
“That was last time . And you were going through a rough time, okay?”
“Don’t remind me,” Yuuri sighs. “I’m still not going to do it.”
“Well, okay,” Phichit concedes, turning on his laptop. “God, who the heck assigns homework and reading during the first week of class?”
“All of the Bio classes,” Yuuri says with a grin as he opens his textbook again and uncaps his highlighter, laying back on the couch.
“I don’t want to do this assignment,” Phichit groans. He starts scrolling through his laptop, and the two of them fall into a comfortable science for a good few minutes.
That is, until Phichit lets out a loud yelp, nearly causing Yuuri to nearly drop his textbook on his face.
“Yuuri. Come here.”
“Can’t it wait?”
Phichit shakes his head, eyes wide. “Nope. No.”
And then, with a click, Yuuri hears his cover of Runnin’ blast through Phichit’s speakers.
Oh no, oh no, no, no. A video of his cover had been posted to the City University Confessions Page.
The video, which was posted about an hour ago, came with the title, “Cute Pre-Med Sings Some Beyonce” and the description:
“‘Looks like not all pre-meds are stuck in the library all day!! They can be pretty cute, too! Please sing me to sleep all the time, cutie!’” Phichit reads out loud, bursting into laughter.
Mortified, Yuuri notices that a few of his pre-med friends and even a few family friends already tagged him on the post, which is already up to 400 likes. It’s no surprise - CU students were known to be fast, and relentless.
Phichit Chulanont 12:00PM
Yuuri Katsuki PLS LOOK AT THIS O M G IT’S U
(“Why did you tag me just now when I’m literally right here?” “Shhhhhh,” Phichit snaps, still watching the video.)
Jean-Jacques Leroy 12:05PM
And you said you weren’t performing anymore, Yuuri!
Yuuko Nishigori 12:30PM
勇利くん!!!! 上手ですんえ〜!!! Miss you!! Yuuri Katsuki
He softens a little at the sight of Yuuko’s comment, but he stares in disbelief at the rate of comments appearing on the post. “I...oh my god.”
“Yuuri. Oh my god. You sound amazing!” Phichit exclaims, grabbing his roommate’s arm and shaking it. “What the hell!”
“I just...I…”
“You’re CU-famous now.”
“No, thanks,” Yuuri says, holding his hands up and running straight to his room. He hears Phichit shut his laptop and jump over the couch to follow him.
“Yuuri!”
“I think I need to take a nap.”
“Now, of all times?”
“Yeah,” Yuuri says, falling face first onto his bed. Phichit clears his throat.
“Okay. Want me to turn off the lights?”
Yuuri nods, thankful. Phichit knew better than anyone what to do in situations like this (they just hadn’t happened in a while); he’s incredibly perceptive that way. Yuuri hears the light switch off, and the sound of Phichit’s feet padding quietly out of the room before he closes the door.
When he’s sure that he’s alone, Yuuri turns over to face the ceiling, still incredibly pink in the face.
“Wow,” he breathes. “Wow.”
He stares at a dot on his ceiling until he falls asleep.
After what seems like forever, Yuuri is shaken awake by his roommate.
“Huh? Wha…?”
“I was gonna wait until you actually woke up, but this is really important.”
Frowning, Yuuri says hoarsely, “What?”
“So, uh,” Phichit begins, taking a seat on the stool next to Yuuri’s nightstand. “Someone came by earlier.”
“Who?”
Phichit’s voice mumbles out: “Victor Nikiforov.”
Yuuri sits up so quickly that his head slightly bangs against his headboard. “AH, fuck! What?”
“Victor Nikiforov came by earlier and wanted to see you.”
“Don’t do this to me, Phichit.”
“He wanted to talk to you about auditioning for--”
“No. No way.”
“I have his number! Right here!” Phichit exclaims, pulling a green Post-It note out of his pocket. Yuuri squinted briefly before putting his glasses on to read it. In neat cursive, it read:
Hi Yuuri,
Sorry I missed you. :( Call me!
(555) 5698-2222 -V.N.
“Come on. You’ve gotta do it,” Phichit says excitedly.
“No.”
“Yuuri!” Phichit says, throwing a pillow at his roommate. “Okay. I’m gonna be honest with you, alright? I’m tired of hearing you sing in the shower. Well, not because I hate it. You have a great voice, but because you’re wasting away! You should be singing on stage! With people! Or, by yourself, I mean, that’s also great--”
“Phichit, I am not wasting away. I’m just...busy. Definitely busier than I was last year. I don’t have time.”
Phichit rolled his eyes. “‘I don’t have time,’ HA.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, unlocked it, and opened up his video folder. “Look at this album of all the times you’ve sung in the shower. You’ve definitely got time to sing--”
“PHICHIT!” Yuuri exclaimed, horrified as he sat up in bed, grabbing the phone and scrolling through the video album. “What the hell?! You didn’t show me this earlier!”
“Trust me, I didn’t bring the camera inside the bathroom. I recorded from outside the door!”
“Phichit!”
“I couldn’t help it! I was thinking, ‘Hm, maybe I can use this as blackmail one day.’ But, you know, I really don’t blackmail people, but I thought, hmmm, I might need these videos someday. I guess that someday is now.”
Yuuri stares at the grid of thumbnails, all of them featuring the same, brown door to the bathroom. Should I? No. No, I shouldn’t.
“Yuuri, look. Victor Nikiforov came by earlier looking for you, okay? Like, that’s just not something he does. He’s usually busy with The Symphonics or recording stuff for his YouTube channel, okay? Well, at least, that I know of.”
True, Yuuri thinks.
“He probably went to the wrong apartment.”
“I’m pretty sure he watched the video of your performance at the open mic,” Phichit reasons. “I mean, it circulated around CU Confessions. Yuuri, this is no coincidence. Call him back.”
“Stop, just stop,” Yuuri groans, burying his head under his pillow again. His heart is pounding fast. Phichit was right. Why else would Victor Nikiforov look for his apartment? How the hell did he find out where he lived? Why did that person upload that video? More importantly, who uploaded that video?
“You know what? I’ll let you think about it for a little bit. I’m gonna grab some food at the Caf. Want anything?”
Yuuri mumbles a ‘no.’
“I’m gonna put the sticky on the nightstand, okay? Text him. I’ll be back in a bit.” Yuuri hears Phichit walk out of the room and close the door again.
Rolling over, Yuuri hugs his pillow and stares at the ceiling.
Victor Nikiforov, YouTube singing sensation, and three-time ICCA champion, best soloist, and best arranger, took the time to look for him after watching a terrible recording of his open mic performance on a stupid Facebook page. Him, Yuuri Katsuki.
Taking a deep breath, he turns to his nightstand, where the Post-It with Victor’s number is stuck.
Go for it.
He picks up the Post-It, unlocks his phone, and starts typing--
To Victor
Hi, it’s Yuuri. Yuuri Katsuki. Thanks for stopping by, I’m sorry I wasn’t home I was just
“Ugh, no,” Yuuri groaned, quickly tapping the backspace key, tossing his phone to the edge of the bed. “I can’t do this.”
Memories of his last Symphonics audition come in full-swing - him cracking on the very first note, the huge weight crushing on his chest, the hushed whispers of the previous year’s Symphonic officers, the tears swelling in his eyes; his feet feeling like lead as he dashed out of the room without so much as a goodbye--
Yuuri buries himself under his blankets and falls into a fitful sleep once more.
The next morning, he rolls out of bed as usual, feeling absolutely exhausted. Blinking blearily, he yawns and makes his way to the bathroom. He peeks into Phichit’s room, and notices that his roommate’s bed was already made.
And then, he hears the peals of laughter coming from the living room. Frowning, he calls out, “Phichit, you didn’t tell me we had guests...oh.”
Victor Nikiforov is sitting on their couch, having coffee with his roommate. Eyes wide, heart beating quick, Yuuri backs up a little bit into the hallway.
Phichit stutters - “Oh, uh, hi, Yuuri, he just came in and wanted to wait until you woke up and--”
“Yuuri!” Victor says, turning around with a smile on his face. “Good morning!”
Before he can stop himself, Yuuri whispers, “Oh, shit.”