ocharovatelnyy:
Yuuri is beautiful like this. Breathtakingly so, which is all the more fitting since Viktor just stole his breath away. That’s part of what’s so beautiful about him, about this entire situation: that Viktor is capable of making Yuuri come so completely undone. It’s the entire scale, with this, of the things Viktor can do to Yuuri, the other end being that hyperfocused precision they managed to achieve in tandem on the ice. That, too, was almost stunning (good thing it wasn’t literally, the last thing they would have needed is Viktor freezing up on the ice just to stare at his fiancé).
His expression softens when Yuuri presses his cheek against his palm, a thumb automatically moving to caress the soft skin. He’s not truly upset with him anymore; they’ve worked through it, cleared up the misunderstandings, that’s good enough. Except, maybe Viktor felt… well, he’s not completely sure, since the feeling came completely instinctively, but now in hindsight, while Yuuri is catching his breath, Viktor reflects that perhaps there is one last layer of dishonesty that they needed to scrape away – Viktor had to admit he was scared, even if he did so in a somewhat roundabout way, and Yuuri, he needs to respond in his own right.
And he’s doing exactly that, and when he does, Viktor relaxes even more, even going as far as letting a genuinely sheepish smile curl onto his lips, his hand sliding a little lower so he could brush his thumb against Yuuri’s bottom lip. “You don’t have to apologize.” What Viktor asked for was a promise, not an apology. What’s past is past – resolved, put away to be learnt from, they ought to look ahead, right? “You thought if you didn’t let me go, I’d leave on my own terms.” It hurts to say it, a little bit – but, then again, neither of them are mind readers. “It just comes down to the fact that we need to talk more openly.”
As for what that means exactly… “I was testing you, sort of.” It means it’s Viktor’s turn again. To come clean, so that the two of them can really start anew. “You kept talking about retiring – you wouldn’t even answer me when I flat out said you shouldn’t. And when you bought those rings – but then you said they were a thank you, and a lucky charm, and, you know, that was really confusing.” Viktor lets out a short laugh, but he doesn’t let go of Yuuri – he wants him to feel that this isn’t about Viktor being upset with him, not anymore. “So I said that thing about us being engaged at the restaurant to see how you’ll react, not the others. And,” he huffs another small laugh, “I guess I was also hoping it’d motivate you, if I said if you win gold, and you took me seriously. But, Yuuri…”
It’s – a stupid scene, really. They’re in the goddamned locker room. There’s nobody else around, and they’re both exhausted and sweaty and Viktor is starting to feel how cold the stone floor is under his socks-covered feet. But there is this impulse, and Viktor has never said no to his impulses, because they were what drove his inspiration, his art, his life – his love.
That’s what now drives him to pull away, far enough, actually, that he has space to lower a knee onto the ground, hand sliding down from Yuuri’s face to take his other hand. There are so many things he could say; Viktor has never had a problem to be eloquent. I’ve already gotten something gold from you, it doesn’t get any better, he thinks, and what we have isn’t contingent upon our scores, and several other well-phrased monologues that he then all lets fade away. Because – this isn’t an eloquent moment. His feelings aren’t – they’re a complete mess, and it’s Yuuri’s fault, it’s all Yuuri – because what they have is not something Viktor has ever experienced before, so how could anything he says do it justice? In the end, there is just his raw, naked heart, taken out of its coral shell and placed gently, pounding and shivering, into this incredible, talented, gentle man’s hand.
“Marry me.”
The conversation rouses old thoughts Yuuri had mulled over in over the course of the past month. The rings hadn’t exactly been premeditated—thoughts of engagement hadn’t exactly been on his mind as he’d purchased them. But when he’d spotted the jewelry store that day, and this particular set, he knew, then, that he wanted, selfishly, more ways to bind Viktor to him than through skating alone. It had felt fitting to call them good luck—omamori—and his mind had skirted over the implications, that this was something couples did as well, for love. But that kind of cultural intimation isn’t likely to be something Viktor would know without explanation. One day he’ll explain, but now isn’t the time, not with this current turn of conversation.
There’d been safety in ambiguity, in calling the rings good luck; by avoiding explicitly saying anything more, he could let Viktor interpret as he wished. His surprise during the dinner when Viktor called them engagement rings bordered on outright shock, but not in an unpleasant way. After he’d had time to process what was happening, he’d been happy. If all of this has been love, he doesn’t think anything else can compare.
Yuuri lets out a soft noise as he skims his hand up the front of Viktor’s shirt, fingers grazing the skin of the man’s neck before he reciprocates a gesture, touching a thumb against Viktor’s lower lip as well. “How could you test me like that?” he says teasingly, with absolutely no bite in his voice, the words familiar on his tongue. Except this time he isn’t mad at all, not like he was in China, and even that is practically a fond memory at this point, an assertion that Viktor isn’t perfect. It makes him all the more real. That everything here, the pair skate they’d performed together, really happened.
He lets out a breath before he replies, the words coming more easily to him. It’s warm here, speaking openly to each other like this, reaching new levels of communication.
“I guess that... Some part of me thought I was keeping you trapped, away from something you loved. At the time I could only think of how much you belonged on the ice, and that I was keeping you from it. I don’t mind the world hating me for taking you away, but I... I minded the idea that I was still holding you back. It sounds stupid, doesn’t it? You’ve told me so many times that you’ve been doing what you’ve chosen to do. That it’s your choice. But even then, I thought, maybe I was tricking you somehow, or influencing you in such a way you didn’t even realize how much you wanted back on the ice.”
He fits the words into a space in the conversation when Viktor pauses, the thoughts nearly tripping over themselves. It feels—good, getting that off his chest, and in hindsight maybe it was some of his anxiety speaking when he’d contemplated such things initially.
For a moment there’s a split-second wave of panic as Viktor pulls away, and Yuuri wonders if he’s said something wrong, if maybe he’s said too much, but the feeling tumbles sidelong and morphs into something else entirely as Viktor kneels before him. Yuuri stands there staring, breath hitching, and then—
Marry me.
Is he hearing this correctly? Did Viktor really—did he seriously just—
Yuuri doesn’t realize he’s crying until he’s already ten seconds into his tears, the moment stretching before him like a reversal of when he’d made Viktor cry. But it would be wrong to compare this to then, not when the overwhelming feeling in his chest is something he can only call joy. There are tears clinging to his eyelashes, rolling down his cheeks, and if he tries to say anything now he’s positive he’ll break down into an ugly mess. Even so, his heart is swelling; it’s all so incomparable Yuuri can barely process it all.
“Yes,” he catches himself saying, voice choking, his lips curving into his most brilliant smile to date, “yes, yes—I can’t—I couldn’t imagine wanting anyone else—Viktor—”
His words break off into a sob as his legs give out, and then he’s on his knees with Viktor, throwing his arms around the man, burying his face into his shoulder as the tears well and truly begin falling.
