princeros .
    Lips part like he wants to speak again, but whatever he planned to say he instead muffles with a mouthful of beef. Heat spreads across his cheeks, his ears warm. Yuuri doesnât look at her as he chews. The thought of the future being so uncertain; itâs exciting, but so very frightening at the same time. Many things could happen, so much can and will change, and Yuuri doesnât know how prepared he is for that. How prepared he is for his body to not be able to jump and twist and spin like it can now, when he has to leave the ice for good when the ice had been such a huge part of his life for many, many years. At least there will be one constant heâs sure of, and itâs the man currently hundreds of miles away who didnât come to visit with Yuuri only because of his own coach running him ragged.
    âCome what may,â he echoes, lifting his glass of sake. She is a constant, too, someone who has always been there for him and he feels some guilt for not appreciating her presence and support fully until so recently. A smile, tired as it may be, pulls at his lips and he takes a sip of the alcohol. It burns on the way down but itâs a pleasant, welcome feeling now. It warms his chest, and he hopes that somehow he wonât indulge too much and end up passed out half-naked on the floor of a restaurant fifty miles from home. Minako doesnât need the stress of hauling a drunken Yuuri all the way back to Hasetsu.
    He laughs around the edge of his glass. âMy wedding, thoughâŠâ Yuuri sets the glass down and begins twisting the golden ring on his finger around, the surface still sparkling and shining despite his constant fiddling. But itâs a comfort, a reminder of what will eventually come, a symbol of a promise made among the song of a choir in the glowing golden light of a cathedral on a winterâs night.
    âI donât trust you to not find any way possible to embarrass me when it finally happens.â
  it is only this affection that encompasses her mind so warmly as it crosses. arms reach over, palms framing the sides of his head to ruffle hair with fondness, a careless smile stretching across lips, â itâs almost as though youâve known me your whole life, yuuri!â accompanied by an abrupt burst of laughter, allowed in moments of sarcasm / when sheâs assumed intoxicated enough for brief inelegance.Â
  the windows catch the twinkling of city lights some distance away, the room softly lit, sounds of chatter and the occasional dish clashing. something in minakoâs chest twangs, honest-to-god, that twinge of recognition, of collision, sliding into place like the turn of a key----
  she catches hesitance, quick. the youngerâs attempt to smother too slow, yuuri often mouthing words that leave minako uncertain of just what heâs thinking or where heâs headed. seeming like the ache of a bruise that becomes more tender after itâs faded, as though bearing the weight for so long has turned it into a phantom pain. she considers stabbing a tamagoyaki nearby but disregards it, opting instead for the simmered kabocha. considerations donât pause inquiry.Â
  â having second thoughts about something? in need of another opinion? iâm not intoxicated enough yet for honesty, â as if. honesty spews and she is vocal even when the situation doesnât call for it. her head tilts, sly, like secrets being shared. â but i could listen.â
( because she is familiar with the feeling; of a not definitive future, of transition, familiar with satisfaction and its constantly arriving-and-fleeing grasp, again. )Â
