here’s my piece for acts of devotion in the languages of love in the @heartbeatszine! you can still get the full zine (it’s free, but donations to charity: water are still welcome!!) so pls make sure you check it out and the nsfw one as well
St. Petersburg is... dark.
Yuuri wakes up in the darkness of early morning to Victor's soft breathing next to him and turns over to watch his fiancé's sleeping face for just a moment – in the blissful silence; when Victor can't talk, can't smile, can't tell him all of the embarrassingly sweet things he always does. They go through their morning routines with only the dim kitchen light on, take a run in a greying hush of dawn, and when they leave for the rink it's still gloomy outside.
The hours they spend on the ice are the brightest of the day: the overhead reflectors that make the frozen surface almost blinding are harsh in comparison to the warm, yellow glow of the street lamps that are turned on almost always, it seems. After a while Yuuri gets used to that, too. For a bit, every day, Yuuri craves the feeling of sunlight on his skin, but once they leave the sports complex he's reminded yet again that it's all just a hopeless dream. The sun has risen and set while they were cooped up inside and the dark sky greets them yet again when Yuuri looks up.
He sighs.
"Tired?" Victor asks, smiling a little as if it's his fault.
It is. Yuuri sourly thinks back to the last ten flying sit spins he had to suffer through just because Victor was in one of his hard-to-please coach moods. He shakes his head though, and takes the hand Victor offers without hesitation.
"Just a little drained," he replies, stepping close until their shoulders bump together. "It's so dark again."
Victor hums softly. "I miss the summer we've spent in Hasetsu."
He turns to Yuuri then and gives him one of those heart-shaped smiles that make Yuuri all warm and weak – he feels that now, too.
"Your eyes look so beautiful in the sunlight," Victor adds.
He's shameless and coquettish, and Yuuri knows he must be blushing by how hard his face burns, even as the cold wind blows over his cheeks. He ducks his head back into his scarf like a turtle. Victor chuckles softly at his embarrassment and leans over to press a kiss against the side of Yuuri's head.
He's awful, Yuuri thinks to himself. Awfully sweet. I love him.
"Let's go home," he says out loud.
Yuuri squeezes Victor's hand instead of replying to the compliment with the plethora of things he loves about Victor in summer: like the freckles that show on his pale skin, the red splotches of sunburn when he forgets to put on sunscreen, or that adorable wrinkle Victor's nose gets when he's trying to brush all the sand out of his hair...
"I want a hot bath. My hip is a little bruised," Yuuri adds. His hip does hurt a bit, but it's mostly an excuse for– "Your knees could use some care, too. I've noticed your face when you landed the last couple of flips. You should rest properly today, I'll take Makka for a walk later. But bath first."
"Are you offering we take it together?" Victor asks, face aglow. "Because I'd love to! It could be our very own little onsen if we make enough steam."
Yuuri smiles at that. "Sure."
It's not even remotely similar: the bathroom is too different and the tub is a little uncomfortable for two, but they don't mention it. Victor massages Yuuri's feet while Yuuri's almost dozing on an elbow propped on the edge of the tub – almost, because he's too busy watching Victor.
He looks soft. With the steam from the bath curling his damp hair and the candlelight giving his skin a warmth that even the flush on his cheeks couldn't; Victor looks tender and loving, and Yuuri's heart aches for some reason.
"What did I ever do to deserve you?" Yuuri mumbles before he can even think about what he's saying or why he's saying it out loud.
The words just slip from his slack mouth and startle Victor into looking up at his face. Victor's confused for a second longer, but then the expression melts, only to be replaced with a smile that's equally adoring and chiding.
God, Yuuri loves him.
"That's my line," Victor tells him.
The corners of Yuuri's mouth quirk at that and he turns to hide it in his arm. Victor notices anyway. He always does. There isn’t a smile that Yuuri can hide from him and he isn’t sure if it’s a blessing or a curse. Victor’s own smile grows, while the touch of his fingers on Yuuri's left foot changes into something more playful. They slide over the arch of his foot, up a little, light, and stop to draw small circles over the ankle. It tickles, but Yuuri lets it be.
"I know what you did," Yuuri says suddenly. And as suddenly as the words come, he shifts in the tub.
He pulls his leg out of Victor's grasp and lifts himself up, sloshing the water over the edge in the process. Neither of them care at the moment, though. Yuuri slides between Victor's legs, which part for him without even asking, and rests his hands on Victor's shoulders. He sits back on his knees to bring their faces closer aware of how Victor eyes his every move. Yuuri gives him a smile that Victor easily returns.
It's comfortable and easy, and Yuuri feels safe enough to say:
"You were so beautiful when I first saw you," he starts. One of his hands lifts to Victor's cheek, thumb running over the pretty blush that found a home there. "You were so beautiful every time I saw you, you know. It was intimidating. I felt like I could never compare, like no one could ever compare."
Victor opens his mouth like he wants to argue, but Yuuri puts a finger to his lips and that's that.
"When you came to Hasetsu for me, you were even more beautiful than I realized, but..." Yuuri bites his lip and thinks over the words he wants to say for a second before he decides to say them anyway. "I think it was around the Cup of China that I began to realize that you weren't really that beautiful."
There's a flash of surprise on Victor's face and his eyebrows lift a little. Yuuri leans closer to kiss one of them. He pulls back and smiles at Victor reassuringly.
"A pretty face, amazing body, your artistry on the ice," Yuuri lists. "That's what I thought made you beautiful, before. But in China I realized that wasn't it, you know?"
"Was it that argument?" Victor asks, arms coming to wrap around Yuuri's waist like he's afraid he'll move away. "That changed your mind?"
Yuuri nods. "That, yes. And what you did after, too."
Victor's face looks a little sour, so Yuuri smiles at him again.
"It's not what you think," he says. "You're still beautiful to me, Victor. Now more than any time before. Do you know why?" Victor shakes his head and Yuuri continues: "Because it's not about any of the charms and faces you put on, but about who you really are, here."
Yuuri touches a hand to Victor's chest, right over his heart.
"The way you get angry at me when I mess up. The way your tears fall when you let me hold you when you feel sad. The smiles you give Yurio when you think he doesn't see you looking so proud when he skates a perfect program. Your kindness, your compassion, your drive to motivate everyone, your refusal to accept that I could be anything less than what you believe me to be capable of..."
It's a little hard to speak when Yuuri feels his throat close up, but he swallows and keeps on talking, because at this point it's imperative that he makes Victor understand that it's not his body Yuuri fell in love with – it's his spirit.
"You have such a beautiful soul, Victor Nikiforov. I couldn't help falling for you. It's really quite unfair," Yuuri finishes with a tiny teasing smile that melts into a fond curl of lips when he sees the tears glistening in Victor's eyes.
Ah, now Yuuri feels like crying, too.
"I love you," he says again, just because it's easy now that he's talked so much. "With all my heart. Thank you for being in my life."
Victor's hands are shaking when he takes one of Yuuri's and presses kisses to it without words. Yuuri feels the hitches of his breath on his wet skin. He runs his free hand through Victor's damp hair and leans forward to leave a kiss on the top of his head, right in the little whorl.
"Really now," Victor gives a small laugh that sounds wet and choked. "How did I get so lucky to have you?"
"It wasn't luck," Yuuri tells him. "You were just yourself."
"Yuuri," Victor breathes and it sounds like he wants to say something else, but can't.
He pulls Yuuri close and hugs him tight. The position is uncomfortable and Yuuri's knees begin to hurt from the way he’s kneeling, but he doesn't say a word. He leans his weight against Victor and wraps his arms around Victor's shoulders. Their hearts align, joined together on the same wavelength of beats.
"I love you," Victor whispers into Yuuri's neck. "God, I love you more than life itself."
Yuuri pulls back a bit to look him in the eye. There's a light there that isn't a reflection of the candle flames – it's far more special than that. It's love, and life, and together they're locked in the blue of Victor's eyes; the perfect prison that Yuuri never wants to leave.
He kisses Victor softly and Victor kisses back. Slow and gentle, the touch of wet lips against his.
Yuuri doesn't need to say anything more. I love you, he thinks to himself again when Victor's head tilts to accommodate him better.
"Let's get out of the tub," Yuuri says out loud when they part. "I'll take care of your knees for you."
Victor laughs softly. "You spoil me, my sweet Yuuri."
Yuuri only smiles at that and dives in for one more kiss.
"I'm happy to," he tells Victor, lips hovering against lips. "Let me?"
His touch is gentle that night, caring and paired with kisses. It's way past their usual bedtime when they succumb to sleep, but before his mind shuts off, Yuuri has one more thought.
The world outside is dark and it will be so even when he wakes, but in this house, with this man – with Victor, his Victor – it feels just a little bit lighter. And better. And fuller. Ah.
