but i&#x27;m weak

hey fam my life is a dumpster fire

#neon01 #gluttonylovesfanta

gluttonylovesfanta:

nerdonice:

Neon is surprisingly attentive, taking the time to point out various sights and stores as they walk. He seems genuine, but Yuuri doesn’t know why he’s being so nice to the boy he met crying on a bench (pity, probably). Well, maybe he’ll have to take Neon up on the offer to draw him just as a way to thank him. Then again, he’s still skeptical that he’d make a good subject, but if Neon insists… Maybe the artist is desperate for willing participants?

He knows he’ll forget most of everything not too long after this tour, but he still appreciates it. Finally, they stop at the studio, and Yuuri studies the brickwork and simple sign. So, this place really is called Fuckoville. Yuuri feels tired.

“Oh… thank you! I think I’ll take a look later when I’ve had a chance to rest, if that’s okay. But thank you very much.”

You want to smack yourself for not thinking that he’d be tired. Of course he’s tired. You force a grin and turn away from the studio, stepping into a slightly more jaunt-like pace.

“Home it is,” you say before getting flustered, “I mean, your home, I’ll show you the way, um, sorry for being so slow about getting here. I wasn’t thinking. Of course you’re tired. Oh but the dance studio is open all week and the guy at the front desk is super nice and can help get you set up for classes. You can say I sent you.” You ramble on, though you doubt he’s even listening (you certainly would have zoned out by now.) You go a little red in the face, both from having said that all in one breath, and from being so flustered. Ugh, why was talking to people so hard.

Neon rambles, almost to himself, and it puts Yuuri at ease. Maybe his assessment that Neon just isn’t good with people was correct after all. He’s lucky that he managed to find someone helpful, if awkward, rather than a more malevolent stranger.

“No, no, no, it’s okay. Thank you for showing me the studio. I am in your debt.”

They continue walking, and Yuuri is not sure that he’ll remember the way to the studio from his new home, but he appreciates the gesture nevertheless. Home... “Do you think I’ll ever be able to go back?” he says softly, more to himself than to his companion. He doesn’t want to further burden Neon with his emotional state, and he tries his best to push away thoughts of his family and friends, but the thought of never seeing them again shears his heart in two.

wHAt?!?

kotyonokonice:

nerdonice:

“I’m not entirely sure,” he says with a shrug. “But I’ll find it. It’s worth it.”

He scrapes at the remnants of the pasta with his fork. In just a bit, they’ll go their separate ways, and Yuuri will be left alone again. The thought scares him; with Yurio, he’d felt more himself than he had in a long time. He’s tried to convince himself that he’s strong, put himself in situations to prove it to himself. He had lived in Detroit, stumbling over his English as he tried to navigate the city, and he didn’t give up and go home. He has competed as a professional figure skater in front of crowds and judges in high-pressure events, sometimes cracking but never shattering beyond repair. He always pieces himself together, even if the process takes time, always trying to prove that he’s not as weak as he sometimes feels.

He doesn’t feel strong at all right now.

“Do you live anywhere near the Quiet Castle? That’s where I live. If we’re going the same way, maybe we could walk home together?”

It’s a bit presumptuous. It’s also behavior more befitting Phichit, he thinks, heart contracting at the thought of his friend. He lowers his eyes and mumbles, “But we don’t have to.”

Yuri nods in agreement and watches his companion scrape at his plate awkwardly. He sort of doesn’t want to leave the restaurant, doesn’t want to go back home to his empty apartment where he gets stuck with nothing but his thoughts. His cat has been a solace in this place but having someone to talk to, having Yuuri, even this Yuuri, has made him feel more like himself. But at the same time, it makes him feel weak. He’s used to being on his own. And he’d been managing just fine until today, he lies to himself.

But then Yuuri suggests they walk home together and his chest tightens. It would be okay to say yes, right? He considers the offer. He doesn’t know the way home but he runs through the Quiet Castle area so he could figure it out.

It would be okay if it was for Yuuri. He was going to walk him home to make sure he’d get there safe, so they could skate tomorrow. He wasn’t doing it for himself.

He smiles and shrugs, “That’s not too far from where I live, so sure.”

He releases a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and returns Yurio’s smile. After taking care of the bill (and quietly mourning the state of his wallet), they leave the restaurant, glancing around for some idea of where they’re at. Yuuri has no idea, and it sounds like Yurio somehow managed to find the ice rink by pure luck. Had the boy truly dragged Yuuri all over the city without a plan, purely in an attempt to snap Yuuri out of his anxiety-clouded mindset? It’s sweet, shockingly so, in fact.

He’s looking forward to continuing his training with Yurio, despite the state of the ice rink. He doesn’t even mind the inevitable drain on his rapidly depleting finances.

Of course, in order for them to continue training, they’ll need to be able to sleep. Which will involve first getting home. Yuuri squints at the buildings, but he’s not much help; he hasn’t left his apartment much, and on his way here, he was preoccupied with Yurio tugging on his arm. “Do you think we should ask someone where we are?” There’s no trace of eagerness in his voice, to be sure, and he knows Yurio will dislike the suggestion. Still, it looks like the both of them are completely lost, so it’s better than wandering around Fuckoville for hours and hours.

ALL IS LOST [hope remains]

dorkonice:

nerdonice:

“Really? What will we need to do?” He’s ready to take on any challenge to get the ice suitable for skating. After all, this ice won’t allow him to improve his skating, and he wants to be worth Viktor’s time. If he needs to work to make that happen, he’ll do it. He looks down at Viktor, jaw set firm in determination.

And then Viktor has to ruin the moment with a comment like… that. Yuuri blushes and looks away, trying not to think of Viktor holding and lifting him. This clinging (which is still going on) is almost too much as it is. “I don’t think this is how you pair skate,” he mumbles. Is this an exercise in making Yuuri more comfortable with Viktor? After all, he knows that he can’t be afraid of the man if he’s going to be coaching Yuuri. Still, Yuuri doesn’t know if this is the most… effective way of addressing that issue.

“Hmm…” A slight pause. “My favorite idea is that we find industrial strength hairdryers, and super long extension cords, and heat up the ice! Or we could carry buckets of water miles from the river…”

“Or you could find someone who knows heat magic.”

Viktor perked up at the sound of the other voice, peering around Yuuri without letting go. “Oh! Hello John!”

“My name’s George…”

He blinks at Viktor’s... interesting solutions. “Uhhh...”

The guy at the skate rental booth interrupts to say something ridiculous, and Yuuri blushes. Is he making fun of them for trying to make the rink usable? He twists to look at George, a scowl on his face. Viktor’s arms around him make it a little difficult to do so, but he manages.

“You know, you don’t have to say anything at all if you’re not going to help,” he mutters.

wHAt?!?

kotyonokonice:

nerdonice:

Yurio looks as though he hasn’t eaten in days – and perhaps he hasn’t, considering their circumstances. Yuuri smiles softly at his companion. They’re rivals, of course, but at the same time, they’re in this together. They have to take care of each other.

Yuuri takes his time with his pasta, comparatively speaking, so he still has a little more than a third of his plate left when Yurio leans back, finished. He twirls noodles around his fork as the teen speaks, then slurps a bite of the tangy, savory dish before replying. “Mmm… I haven’t been running regularly or anything, but it’ll be good to get back to some kind of schedule. Does 7 work? At the rink? How far is the rink from your place, by the way?”

“Seven works fine for me,” he pauses when he realizes that he actually has no fucking idea how far the rink is from his home. Actually he has no idea where the hell he even is. He chides himself, but does his best to keep a straight face. “Not to far I think.” He says it like more of a question than a fact, “How far is it from yours?”

He turns the question around hopping Yuuri hasn’t noticed his slight unease. He really should have paid more attention on their sprint here. At least he knows how to get back to the rink from here, and he can ask the loser at the rental booth to help him out again, (third times the charm right?)

“I’m not entirely sure,” he says with a shrug. “But I’ll find it. It’s worth it.”

He scrapes at the remnants of the pasta with his fork. In just a bit, they’ll go their separate ways, and Yuuri will be left alone again. The thought scares him; with Yurio, he’d felt more himself than he had in a long time. He’s tried to convince himself that he’s strong, put himself in situations to prove it to himself. He had lived in Detroit, stumbling over his English as he tried to navigate the city, and he didn’t give up and go home. He has competed as a professional figure skater in front of crowds and judges in high-pressure events, sometimes cracking but never shattering beyond repair. He always pieces himself together, even if the process takes time, always trying to prove that he’s not as weak as he sometimes feels.

He doesn’t feel strong at all right now.

“Do you live anywhere near the Quiet Castle? That’s where I live. If we’re going the same way, maybe we could walk home together?”

It’s a bit presumptuous. It’s also behavior more befitting Phichit, he thinks, heart contracting at the thought of his friend. He lowers his eyes and mumbles, “But we don’t have to.”

wHAt?!?

“kotyonokonice:

nerdonice:

Yuuri gratefully devours the sample of carbonara, which is just as good as the puttanesca (though he doesn’t think he could have eaten an entire plate of it, so it’s nice that he has Yurio to share with.

“Mmmm! Yeah, that’s really good!”

He smiles even wider at Yurio’s next semester.

“Definitely. We’ve got to work our way through the menu, right? And of course you’ll be paying since I’ll beat you next time,” he says with a playful smirk, eyes full of light for the first time in days.

Nodding emphatically, mouth too full to answer properly, Yuri agrees. He swallows and takes a drink of water to wash it down. This feels nice, almost normal, he thinks recalling the awkward silence that had so recently lain between them.

“I’m going to get the gnocci next time,” he exclaims–butchering the pronunciation–before shoving more pasta in his mouth, “and I’d like to see you try.”

He really needs to work on his table manners.

He makes quick work of the pasta, savoring (in his own way) every bite. Utensils clatter against his plate and he leans back into the booth with a satisfied sigh. He sits in the silence a moment, happy and warm and full, watching Yuuri from behind his bangs.

“So,” he closes his eyes, “what time should we meet tomorrow? I’ve been getting up at six to run, but I hadn’t found the rink so I don’t have an schedule for practice.”

Yurio looks as though he hasn’t eaten in days -- and perhaps he hasn’t, considering their circumstances. Yuuri smiles softly at his companion. They’re rivals, of course, but at the same time, they’re in this together. They have to take care of each other.

Yuuri takes his time with his pasta, comparatively speaking, so he still has a little more than a third of his plate left when Yurio leans back, finished. He twirls noodles around his fork as the teen speaks, then slurps a bite of the tangy, savory dish before replying. “Mmm... I haven’t been running regularly or anything, but it’ll be good to get back to some kind of schedule. Does 7 work? At the rink? How far is the rink from your place, by the way?”

ALL IS LOST [hope remains]

dorkonice:

nerdonice:

If Yuuri hadn’t spent all his money on dinner last night, he might have offered to buy coffee. As it is, however, he’s stuck being his coach’s personal space heater. “You’ve been trying to figure out maintaining the ice? When did you get here?”

Honestly, it is cold out, and Viktor is warm. Yuuri looks down and sees the content look on the man’s face as he huddles against his student and blushes. It’s a good thing nobody is around. It’s also a good thing that he’s still feeling a little sleepy himself.

“…You know, if either of us is going to skate, you’re going to have to let me go?”

“I’m not sure.” He replied, looking up at the other but still not releasing him. He had an idea of when he got here, but didn’t want to cause Yuuri unnecessary stress by letting him know he’d been here all night. “I spoke to the hut man, though, and he said he might have some ideas!”

At Yuuri’s next comment, he laughed.

“We can skate pairs. It’s fine~!”

“Really? What will we need to do?” He’s ready to take on any challenge to get the ice suitable for skating. After all, this ice won’t allow him to improve his skating, and he wants to be worth Viktor’s time. If he needs to work to make that happen, he’ll do it. He looks down at Viktor, jaw set firm in determination.

And then Viktor has to ruin the moment with a comment like... that. Yuuri blushes and looks away, trying not to think of Viktor holding and lifting him. This clinging (which is still going on) is almost too much as it is. “I don’t think this is how you pair skate,” he mumbles. Is this an exercise in making Yuuri more comfortable with Viktor? After all, he knows that he can’t be afraid of the man if he’s going to be coaching Yuuri. Still, Yuuri doesn’t know if this is the most... effective way of addressing that issue.

wHAt?!?

kotyonokonice:

nerdonice:

Yurio’s youthful frame and metabolism can support spaghetti carbonara just fine. But the puttanesca will be nice and healthier than the cup noodles he’s been subsiding off of (he had figured he wouldn’t be skating again, and he wasn’t hungry anyways, so quick, cheap meals were most expedient).

The waiter comes by and they put in their respective orders. He returns a few minutes later with drinks (water for Yuuri, of course) and bread with olive oil. Yuuri grabs a hunk and begins eating, grateful that he won’t have to make small talk. He’s enjoying his time with Yurio, but he also feels a little awkward around the teen, particularly since he hasn’t really spoken to anyone since he ran into Neon that first day. Socializing, always one of his weak points, has only increased in difficulty.

They’re both hungry and focused on food until their main course arrives. It looks amazing. “Good choice, Yurio!” Yuuri says with a smile after taking the first bite. “Is yours okay? Do you want to try some of mine?”

Yuri makes quick wok of his bread, the rumbling in his stomach finally quieting, and drinks most of his water in a single go. Having run out of things to occupy himself with, he finds himself feeling horribly awkward. What can they even talk about? The last time he’d had a dinner like this was before the grand-prix, Otabek seated across from him. He’d had plenty to talk about then. But now, with Yuuri, the situation finally begins to sink in. What can they talk about? He can’t bring up Viktor without fear of questions he won’t know how to answer. Even talking about skating seems difficult. He frowns and pretends to pick at a spot on his sleeve until their food arrives.

It looks, and smells, amazing. “Ah, yours too, it looks good,” he says, fork halfway to his mouth. He slurps the noodles ungracefully and his eyes light up. It’s delicious, the best food he’s eaten in what feels like months (but has only been a week). He stops himself from inhaling the rest though showing considerable restraint.

“It’s amazing, here,” he shoves his plate across the table and scoops a small pile of noodles onto Yuuri’s plate before stealing some in return. Yuuri’s pasta is just as good.

“Hey,” he mumbles through his mouthful, “want to come here again? After practice? Next time I’ll buy of course.”

Sure their interactions were a little strained, but having a familiar face…a friend…to do more than just train with, would be nice.

Yuuri gratefully devours the sample of carbonara, which is just as good as the puttanesca (though he doesn’t think he could have eaten an entire plate of it, so it’s nice that he has Yurio to share with.

“Mmmm! Yeah, that’s really good!”

He smiles even wider at Yurio’s next semester.

“Definitely. We’ve got to work our way through the menu, right? And of course you’ll be paying since I’ll beat you next time,” he says with a playful smirk, eyes full of light for the first time in days.

ALL IS LOST [hope remains]

dorkonice:

nerdonice:

Yuuri is pretty sure that his coach inches closer to him, though he can’t really tell because his brain is preoccupied with the fact that Viktor Nikiforov is practically nuzzling his face in his waist. Viktor murmurs softly, sleepily, and Yuuri still doesn’t have the heart to pull away. The man had been shivering when Yuuri found him on the bench, after all, and Yuuri isn’t completely heartless.

“It’s a little after seven in the morning,” he replies, a note of concern in his voice. “You don’t have to stay with me while I skate. You can go home and get some rest. It’s fine.”

Seven. Then he was asleep for about four hours. He yawned again.

“No, no. Skating will warm he up.” He said, still refusing to release the other skater. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep, I was just trying to figure out how to maintain the ice.” A pause. “I could probably use some coffee though! But since I have no money, I’ll accept your warmth as an acceptable substitute.”

If Yuuri hadn’t spent all his money on dinner last night, he might have offered to buy coffee. As it is, however, he’s stuck being his coach’s personal space heater. “You’ve been trying to figure out maintaining the ice? When did you get here?”

Honestly, it is cold out, and Viktor is warm. Yuuri looks down and sees the content look on the man’s face as he huddles against his student and blushes. It’s a good thing nobody is around. It’s also a good thing that he’s still feeling a little sleepy himself.

“...You know, if either of us is going to skate, you’re going to have to let me go?”

ALL IS LOST [hope remains]

dorkonice:

nerdonice:

A soft murmur emanates from the man, and Yuuri relaxes somewhat. He sounds happy to see Yuuri, his voice slurred with sleep as he pronounces the younger skater’s name.

And then, he wraps his arms around Yuuri’s waist like some sort of very cuddly octopus.

Yuuri feels like he is on fire. And then, Viktor, cruel Viktor, jokes about waking him with a kiss, as if simply being so close to Yuuri is not enough to send the younger man’s heart into a frenzy. Why must Viktor tease him like this? Can he hear the pounding in Yuuri’s chest? What does it all mean; what does Viktor mean; why does Yuuri feel like this?

He’s afraid to be so close to Viktor, but at the same time, the reaction fills him with relief. He wants to pull away, but he also wants to return the gesture. He had spent so long worrying that Viktor was disappointed in him – though that possibility cannot be ruled out as of yet. Still, seeing the man curled up on the bench and vulnerable with sleep, clinging to Yuuri as if his life depends on it, lessens some of Yuuri’s anxiety, especially in contrast with last night.

“Are you okay?” he asks again. The more rational part of him says to pull away, but he doesn’t listen. Not yet. Viktor is warm and comfortable… [he banishes the thought]. “How long have you been sleeping here?”

“да”

The response was quiet, and Viktor made no signals of moving any time soon. He planned to stay as long as Yuuri would let him–and only partly because he was starting to feel his hands again.

“Hm… What time is it?” What time had he fallen asleep? His phone said 3am when he finally took his skates off and sat on the bench.

The man yawned, closing his eyes against the other.

Yuuri is pretty sure that his coach inches closer to him, though he can’t really tell because his brain is preoccupied with the fact that Viktor Nikiforov is practically nuzzling his face in his waist. Viktor murmurs softly, sleepily, and Yuuri still doesn’t have the heart to pull away. The man had been shivering when Yuuri found him on the bench, after all, and Yuuri isn’t completely heartless.

“It’s a little after seven in the morning,” he replies, a note of concern in his voice. “You don’t have to stay with me while I skate. You can go home and get some rest. It’s fine.”

hey fam my life is a dumpster fire

#neon01 #gluttonylovesfanta

gluttonylovesfanta:

nerdonice:

Yuuri mumbles his number in a daze, still not entirely sure what’s happening. Why is this stranger being so friendly, to the point that he’s willing to pay Yuuri to draw him? It doesn’t seem to be a joke, though the skater still can’t quite comprehend that fact.

His exit from the bench lacks Neon’s energy as he releases his knees and climbs to his feet. Neon begins walking, and Yuuri trails behind. Much as he hates to admit it, he never would have been able to find where he’s staying on his own.

“By the way… thank you.”

“Ah, it’s no problem, but you’re welcome!” You respond, flashing a grin over your shoulder.

You keep a slow pace so you can stop and point out the sights and the shopping centers as you pass, noting a few restaurants you’ve been told were very good (though you wouldn’t know anything on the subject). It’s nice weather for a walk, you think, as you continue to stroll through the streets, and you find yourself itching to sketch, but you have a task already at hand.

Fortunatly the small dance studio is near in the downtown castle area, near your own home, and not far from the quiet castle, so it’s on the way to Yuuri’s new home.

The studio is a small, brick building with a sign outside that clearly labels it as “Fuckoville Dance” with the silhouette of a pair waltzing.

“And this is the studio,” you say as if it weren’t already obvious, “we can go in and take a quick look if you’d like.”

Neon is surprisingly attentive, taking the time to point out various sights and stores as they walk. He seems genuine, but Yuuri doesn’t know why he’s being so nice to the boy he met crying on a bench (pity, probably). Well, maybe he’ll have to take Neon up on the offer to draw him just as a way to thank him. Then again, he’s still skeptical that he’d make a good subject, but if Neon insists... Maybe the artist is desperate for willing participants?

He knows he’ll forget most of everything not too long after this tour, but he still appreciates it. Finally, they stop at the studio, and Yuuri studies the brickwork and simple sign. So, this place really is called Fuckoville. Yuuri feels tired.

“Oh... thank you! I think I’ll take a look later when I’ve had a chance to rest, if that’s okay. But thank you very much.”

wHAt?!?

kotyonokonice:

nerdonice:

Yurio returns their skates and comes back with information about a pasta place. Yuuri laughs softly at the teen’s attempt to act as though he knows the area – Yuuri doesn’t care either way, and it’s touching that the younger skater tried his best to find a rink in an unfamiliar place. He wishes that Yurio didn’t feel the need to act tough around him, but then again, he also feels grateful for the moments of softness.

“Sounds great.”

They walk a few blocks in the direction the rental booth worker suggested, and sure enough, there’s a tiny pasta place that smells like garlic and fresh herbs. The prices look as good as the food, too, which is a plus (particularly since Yuuri will need to feed his hungry companion). They’re seated at a booth in the corner, and Yuuri peruses the menu for a moment. The spaghetti carbonara sounds really good, but since he’s going to be skating again, maybe he should go for something a bit lighter? The pasta puttanesca also looks really good…

“See anything you like?”

The small restaurant is warm and inviting, and the smell that wafts from the building makes Yuri’s stomach rumble loudly. Fortunately Yuuri doesn’t seem to notice as he gleans over the menu before leading the way inside.

Falling into the booth, he pulls his hood down and throws open the menu, eyes gleaming at the prospect of good food. He’s been eating nothing but instant meals since he got here, the cheaper the better, but he tries not to look too excited.

The menu is long, but his gaze falls directly on the gnocchi with saffron and pancetta. It sounds amazing, but it’s more expensive than some of the other items.

Looking at the price, it occurs to him that there’s a good chance Yuuri’s wallet looks like his own: mostly empty. He looks up at his companion, contemplating, and decides to compromise and not to be a jerk about his (totally rigged) win. Besides, Yuuri seems to be having a hard enough time judging by their first interaction, and he can’t have Yuuri starving later: he’ll be no good on the ice if he doesn’t eat.

“The carbonara looks good,” Yuri smirks, “what about you?”

Besides, the carbonara will be more filling, he thinks, and he is really quite hungry. A thought that is only reinforced by another embarsingly loud growl from his stomach

Yurio’s youthful frame and metabolism can support spaghetti carbonara just fine. But the puttanesca will be nice and healthier than the cup noodles he’s been subsiding off of (he had figured he wouldn’t be skating again, and he wasn’t hungry anyways, so quick, cheap meals were most expedient).

The waiter comes by and they put in their respective orders. He returns a few minutes later with drinks (water for Yuuri, of course) and bread with olive oil. Yuuri grabs a hunk and begins eating, grateful that he won’t have to make small talk. He’s enjoying his time with Yurio, but he also feels a little awkward around the teen, particularly since he hasn’t really spoken to anyone since he ran into Neon that first day. Socializing, always one of his weak points, has only increased in difficulty.

They’re both hungry and focused on food until their main course arrives. It looks amazing. “Good choice, Yurio!” Yuuri says with a smile after taking the first bite. “Is yours okay? Do you want to try some of mine?”

ALL IS LOST [hope remains]

dorkonice:

nerdonice:

@dorkonice

His stomach sinks with every step towards the rink, and he debates just turning around and going home. After all, Viktor probably won’t end up coming, what with the conclusion to their dinner last night. But then again, what if he does? Then Yuuri would be even more of a disappointment.

He keeps walking and notices the smooth expanse of white glowing beneath the first rays of early morning sunlight. There’s nobody around this early. Nobody around, including Viktor.

He sits down and tugs off his sneakers, surreptitiously stealing glances as if doing so will allow him to catch a glimpse of silver hair. But each time he notes only an expanse of lifeless snow and slush.

Of course he’s not coming. Of course.

There’s a bit of movement near a bench not too far from the rink. From here, it looks like a bundle of fluff. Yuuri blinks and notes the pile of fabric – but that’s a person, isn’t it? He shoves his sneakers back on without bothering to tie the laces and runs, just barely managing not to trip.

Viktor Nikiforov, star skater and world champion, lies curled on the bench, hands balled into fists. Makkachin rouses from sleep and sniffs at Yuuri’s pant leg as Yuuri looks down at his coach. The Russian skater shivers a little in his sleep. “Viktor?” Yuuri tentatively reaches out a hand, letting it hover above Viktor’s shoulder before finally giving his coach a gentle shake. “Viktor, are you okay?”

“Hmm?”

The sleepy noise came in response to the sudden shift in the source of the warmth. When he felt something else touch him was when his eyes fluttered open.

For a moment he looked at Yuuri, registering where he was, how cold he was.

“Oh, I fell asleep…”

It was more to himself than to the other. As if it was a revelation.

“Yuuri~!”

Yep. He finally noticed who woke him up. And without hesitation, or the sense enough to stop himself, his arms wrap around the other skater’s waist, sliding up under his coat in search of warmth.

“Ah, you woke me from my frozen slumber~! Next time you should do it with a kiss!”

Yep. He’s fine.

A soft murmur emanates from the man, and Yuuri relaxes somewhat. He sounds happy to see Yuuri, his voice slurred with sleep as he pronounces the younger skater’s name.

And then, he wraps his arms around Yuuri’s waist like some sort of very cuddly octopus.

Yuuri feels like he is on fire. And then, Viktor, cruel Viktor, jokes about waking him with a kiss, as if simply being so close to Yuuri is not enough to send the younger man’s heart into a frenzy. Why must Viktor tease him like this? Can he hear the pounding in Yuuri’s chest? What does it all mean; what does Viktor mean; why does Yuuri feel like this?

He’s afraid to be so close to Viktor, but at the same time, the reaction fills him with relief. He wants to pull away, but he also wants to return the gesture. He had spent so long worrying that Viktor was disappointed in him -- though that possibility cannot be ruled out as of yet. Still, seeing the man curled up on the bench and vulnerable with sleep, clinging to Yuuri as if his life depends on it, lessens some of Yuuri’s anxiety, especially in contrast with last night.

“Are you okay?” he asks again. The more rational part of him says to pull away, but he doesn’t listen. Not yet. Viktor is warm and comfortable... [he banishes the thought]. “How long have you been sleeping here?”

wHAt?!?

kotyonokonice:

nerdonice:

Yuuri’s about to grin and retort that he can still keep practicing (if he’s happy with anything about his skating, he’s happy with his stamina), but he decides that maybe Yurio is right. Then, Yurio throws at a playful challenge with an offer (more of a demand) to go get something to eat after. Yuuri tries in earnest to tug his skates off his feet, but the rentals are fiddly and he ends up losing.

“I guess I’m paying,” he acquiesces with a laugh. “Is there anywhere you had in mind? I don’t really know the area.”

It’s nice that Yurio actually wants to go out to eat with him. For the first time in a while, he’s actually having fun. Still, knowing the younger skater’s appetite, he’s a little worried for his wallet. Well, he thinks, it’ll be worth it. He’ll find a way to make some money… hopefully.

Raising his skates victoriously, Yuri puts on a smug smile, but it falters when Yuuri asks where he’d like to eat. He doesn’t want to admit that he doesn’t have the faintest clue where they even are, let alone where food might be. He puts the skates down and contemplates a minute, wracking his brain for an answer, and, coming up short, notices the rental booth. He picks up both pairs of skates–shaking his head when Yuuri tries to follow– and wanders off, not replying.

The man at the rental booth looks a little wary as Yuri approaches (he hadn’t exactly left the best first impression), and Yuri flashes him a sharp grin.

He returns with the smug smile pasted back on his face.

“Yeah, there’s a place nearby, it’s supposed to have good pasta.”

Ah shit, he thinks, the ‘supposed to’ having slipped out on its own. His (albeit shabby) cover, never stood a chance. Sighing, he shrugs. “Alright, fine, I don’t know anything about the area either, but the loser at the rental booth said there’s a place a few blocks away.”

Tucking his hands into his pockets he starts walking, calling for Yuuri to hurry up, because he’s starving.

Yurio returns their skates and comes back with information about a pasta place. Yuuri laughs softly at the teen’s attempt to act as though he knows the area -- Yuuri doesn’t care either way, and it’s touching that the younger skater tried his best to find a rink in an unfamiliar place. He wishes that Yurio didn’t feel the need to act tough around him, but then again, he also feels grateful for the moments of softness.

“Sounds great.”

They walk a few blocks in the direction the rental booth worker suggested, and sure enough, there’s a tiny pasta place that smells like garlic and fresh herbs. The prices look as good as the food, too, which is a plus (particularly since Yuuri will need to feed his hungry companion). They’re seated at a booth in the corner, and Yuuri peruses the menu for a moment. The spaghetti carbonara sounds really good, but since he’s going to be skating again, maybe he should go for something a bit lighter? The pasta puttanesca also looks really good...

“See anything you like?”

ALL IS LOST [hope remains]

@dorkonice

His stomach sinks with every step towards the rink, and he debates just turning around and going home. After all, Viktor probably won’t end up coming, what with the conclusion to their dinner last night. But then again, what if he does? Then Yuuri would be even more of a disappointment.

He keeps walking and notices the smooth expanse of white glowing beneath the first rays of early morning sunlight. There’s nobody around this early. Nobody around, including Viktor.

He sits down and tugs off his sneakers, surreptitiously stealing glances as if doing so will allow him to catch a glimpse of silver hair. But each time he notes only an expanse of lifeless snow and slush.

Of course he’s not coming. Of course.

There’s a bit of movement near a bench not too far from the rink. From here, it looks like a bundle of fluff. Yuuri blinks and notes the pile of fabric -- but that’s a person, isn’t it? He shoves his sneakers back on without bothering to tie the laces and runs, just barely managing not to trip.

Viktor Nikiforov, star skater and world champion, lies curled on the bench, hands balled into fists. Makkachin rouses from sleep and sniffs at Yuuri’s pant leg as Yuuri looks down at his coach. The Russian skater shivers a little in his sleep. “Viktor?” Yuuri tentatively reaches out a hand, letting it hover above Viktor’s shoulder before finally giving his coach a gentle shake. “Viktor, are you okay?”

forgotten once or twice

dorkonice:

nerdonice:

Yuuri looks up and notices that he’s not the only one doing a poor job of eating. Is Viktor homesick, too? Is that why he’s acting odder than usual today?

There’s a strange vulnerability to Viktor as he rises, sad expression replacing his usual smile. Yuuri stares. He’s never seen Viktor look so serious, and it worries him.

“W-wait!” He clumsily climbs to his feet. “Um… Are you okay to walk home by yourself? Since you’re not feeling well?”

“Don’t worry. I should be fine.” Barring the fact he still didn’t know where his apartment was. “Some fresh air may even help.”

“Thank you for the drinks~”

And just as the waiter appeared to ask Yuuri if they needed boxes or would like anything else, Viktor ducked out. He held it together just long enough that the door closed behind him just as the first tear escaped.

The waiter asks if they need boxes (Yuuri had gotten used to waiters asking that question during his stay in Detroit, but he usually tries to finish his food regardless). He nods and asks for the check, and by the time he turns around, Viktor is gone.

“Viktor?” He knows that he’s speaking to empty space, but the word escapes his lips nevertheless.

Is Viktor mad at him? Is he disappointed in Yuuri’s Eros performance? Is he upset that Yuuri isn’t living up to his expectations?

It makes sense. Viktor is stuck here in a different world, and now he probably feels obligated to coach Yuuri since they’re both here together. Maybe he resents Yuuri for this.

His chest tightens as he quietly packs up the food and empties his wallet to pay the bill. Should he text Viktor and tell him that he doesn’t have to come tomorrow? But there’s a part of him which wants to be selfish and see if Viktor still shows up. He wants Viktor as his coach and yet he knows that he’s done nothing to be worthy of the privilege.

He wants Viktor, but he has no right to the man. He has not earned his time through his skating, and there is nothing significant about Yuuri himself which would make up for a lack of talent.

After finally gathering his belongings, he exits the restaurant. He had half hoped that Viktor would be waiting for him, but Yuuri doesn’t see him. Eyes focused on the ground, he walks mechanically back to his house.

#viktor01 #dorkonice

forgotten once or twice