He texted him ten times before he boarded the plane to make sure he'd gotten the terminal number right. At around the seventh text Mila looked over his shoulder and flashed him a shit-eating grin.
"When does his flight get in?" She asked knowingly as he pretended to ignore her and focused his attention on locating his boarding pass.
"None of your business hag."
"You haven't seen him since what...China last year?"
"We Skype," he muttered. He didn't like being reminded of how far he was from his best friend.
Her eyes softened and she took a sip of the latte she'd gotten in the airport Starbucks. Yuri was exhausted and likely in need of caffeine, but anxious to the point that his hands were shaking so he'd refrained.
"He's going to be happy to see you. I don't know what you're so worried about," she said gently.
"I'm not worried I'm just..." he stopped. He wasn't sure why his heart was jumping out of his chest.
He'd texted and Skyped and engaged in late night phone calls with him on a daily basis in the two and a half years since he'd officially befriended Otabek Altin and yet this meet up felt different. Maybe it was because he was finally 18, with a growth spurt that put him several inches taller than his friend to prove it. Maybe it was because he hadn't properly seen him in a year, which felt like a lifetime when so many things were changing.
He had to train even harder now that he'd grown. Routines were tougher, practices were longer, and most nights he collapsed onto his bed (sometimes without bothering to take off his shoes.) They talked about visiting each other but so far nothing had panned out. When Yuri fell into a sleepy, euphoric haze sometimes he'd babble (to anyone around, usually Victor and his idiot husband) about vacations where he and Beka would watch movies all day and he could show him around Moscow.
The last time he'd seen Otabek they'd been seated cross legged on his hotel room's floor. Otabek had bought a bunch of junk food from a convenience store nearby. They'd ducked out of the press conference early.
"What was with that last quad Beka?" he'd grumbled, ripping open a bag of chips and reveling in the fact that he was completely ignoring Yakov's dietary restrictions.
Otabek had shrugged. "I'm tired, at least I placed," he had said, rolling his shoulder back with a grimace. He'd looked particularly haggard that competition. A bad fall during the short program had cost him a lot of points. And though Otabek had assured Yuri that he felt just fine, his free program was messier than usual. He'd managed to take bronze, but barely.
"Are you okay?" Yuri remembered speaking so low that for a moment he wasn't sure Otabek had heard him. Yuri had flushed, surprised at the rush of concern that flooded his chest.
Otabek had looked at him and promptly straightened. "I'm fine, here," he handed him a package of cookies.
"You don't have to do that," he had said, face growing redder with anger.
"What?" Otabek had replied, face blank but eyes betraying him.
"You shouldn't pretend everything's alright to make me feel better. We're friends. I want to know how you really feel."
Otabek had opened his mouth as if to protest, then closed it and nodded. "Fine, then go get me an ice pack."
When Yuri returned from the ice machine he was sprawled face up on the carpet, looking pensively at the ceiling.
"The hell are you doing?" Yuri stood over him, face lined with confusion. Beka had looked softer and sleepier, motions slow when he reached for the ice.
"I'm glad you're here," he had said, clutching the ice to his shoulder.
"Are you high?"
"No, you told me to tell you how I felt. I'm glad you're here Yuri. You remind me why I skate."
The feeling he'd had when he said that was close to what he felt now, jittery and light headed with exhilaration. Mila was right: there was nothing to get worked up about, but Yuri's head was having a hard time relating that to his body.
The flight passed painstakingly slowly. Yuri fiddled absently with his hair which had now grown past his shoulders. He had it braided for his short program and in a Nikiforov-esque ponytail during his free skate.
Sometimes Otabek would Skype him early in the morning. He'd answer with a mess of bedhead and his cat in his lap, yawning at the screen.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Yuri had said too quickly.
"The connection's not that bad. I can tell it's not nothing." For someone who was so often quiet in the presence of others, Otabek Altin rarely let him get away with silence.
He had sighed. "Practice was shit. I can't focus. And then there's school."
"School?"
"I've got exams," he gritted his teeth. "Though I'm not sure anyone cares about the other difficulties in my life as long as I keep skating well." He knew he was wrong, but he was too frustrated to speak rationally.
"Let me help you study."
"Beka you don't have to..."
"You're more than your skating."
Am I? He'd thought but hadn't said.
"I'll get your luggage, you go get him," Mila said as they stepped into the Barcelona airport. Otabek had just texted him to say that his plane had landed.
Yuri took off through the airport in search of his gate. This was stupid. They'd see each other at the hotel if not the press conference tomorrow. This was pure impatience.
Otabek didn't see him at first. He watched him scan the crowd of tired, irritable, luggage bearing people until his eyes fixed on him. He grinned, and Yuri pushed his way through the crowd.
"Yura," he wrapped him in a hug and Yuri could feel his heart in his throat. "I missed you."
When Otabek pulled back Yuri's body took over. Before he was even aware of what he was doing his lips were on Otabek's. He kissed him quickly but with feeling, placing his hands on either side of his friend's face and pulling him into the kiss. A second later, when he broke off and Otabek was staring at him, dumbfounded, his mind regained control.
"Fuck, sorry...I didn't mean to...I have to go." He turned and ran before Otabek could say anything.
What the hell was that? He thought as he caught up with Mila just in time to share a cab.
"I thought you were going with Otabek?"
"Well I'm not," he snapped, sliding in beside her.
In his hotel room Yuri replayed the incident in his head. He kissed him. He kissed his best friend out of the blue and ran before he even got a reaction. He hadn't intended to kiss him, but seeing his face after so long, the strange twitchy feeling he'd had all day, and the fact that he felt safer and more right in Beka's arms than he'd felt anywhere had resulted in a surge of emotion he didn't know what to do with.
He wasn't supposed to think about Beka like that. They were friends not...people who kissed each other.
"Do you date?" Yuri asked him once, on a phone call that had stretched from one hour into two when they both should've been sleeping.
He remembered the silence that followed the question. He was only asking because of Katsudon's dumb wedding. Every time Victor talked to him he ended up on some sappy detour about how love made everything make sense and that he was so lucky and blah blah blah stupid corny crap.
"I haven't yet. Do you?"
"Me? Of course not," he said, but then felt stupid and added. "I don't have the time. Skating is my priority."
"Oh," Beka replied sounding curiously disappointed. "So there isn't anyone you would want to...?"
"Hey, I was the one asking you. You can't just flip it around onto me."
"I don't know. I guess it would be hard to balance. And I'm not sure there's somebody I..." he trailed off. "Your probably right."
Yuri had never kissed anyone before today.
There was a knock on the door. Yuri got up to answer it.
"Mila I said I was fine. You don't have to check in on..."
It wasn't Mila. Otabek looked frazzled and out of breath. The intensity in his eyes was startling. He'd grown in their year apart too, though the changes were subtler: a scar on his chin from a fall on his motorcycle, easier movements both on and off the ice, and a confidence in the way he carried himself that only someone who really knew him, and Yuri did, would be able to discern. Despite his clear unease, Otabek was looking at him like someone who knew what he needed and wouldn't shy from asking for it.
"Yuri we should talk."
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, opening the door wider.
"For kissing me or for running away?
Yuri looked down at his feet. "I didn't mean to kiss you. I just got excited and it happened. I'm sorry for all of it. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or fuck with our friendship. Because you're my best friend Beka and I wouldn't want to do anything to..."
"Yura don't do that. We're still going to be friends," he paused and Yuri looked up at him again. "No matter what we're going to be friends."
Yuri's shoulders relaxed. He hadn't realized how tense they were. "Really?"
"Really Yura. I've been looking forward to this competition for weeks because I knew I'd get to see you. Every time we talk or you send me a video from training or picture of your cat I want to see you."
Yuri's face felt hot. "Don't get all sappy on me."
"So you don't want to kiss me?" His friend said softly. "You don't think about me like that?"
"What? Of course I don't," he answered too quickly. It didn't feel like the truth.
Katsudon had asked him the same question one afternoon at the rink when his attention was more on his phone than on training. "Are you talking to Otabek?"
Yuri had glanced up from Beka's last message and scowled. "None of your business pig."
Yuri Katsuki had given him a knowing smile. "How is he?"
"Fine, why do you care?"
"You talk to him a lot."
"So?"
"I don't mean to pry," Yuri had said, eyes wandering out to Victor on the ice. "But I'm hear to talk if you ever want to. I know long distance relationships can be tough and..."
"We're not dating," Yuri had stuttered. "I don't..."
"You don't think about him like that?" Victor's brazenness was rubbing off on him.
He had scrolled self-consciously through his messages: weeks of good morning texts and links to cat videos, encouragements and dumb jokes in equal message. "Maybe sometimes," he admitted. "It would be hard though."
"That doesn't mean it wouldn't be worth it."
Yuri looked over at him. Katsudon couldn't take his dumb eyes off of Victor. He looked happy in a dazed, unrestrained way. He looked like that a lot.
"How did you know that you loved him?" he asked softly, eyes lowered to avoid further embarrassment.
"It got to a point where when I thought about the kind of life I wanted he was always there," he smiled fondly. "I need him. He makes me better. When I realized that I knew I loved him."
"Gross," he had muttered. But his heart rate had quickened.
"Yura," Otabek was still standing there staring at him. He fidgeted uncomfortably in the doorway. "We're friends. I want to know how you really feel."
Beka took a step toward him and brushed a piece of hair from his eyes. His hand shook like he was nervous.
"I feel like it would be complicated if I wanted to kiss you again."
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Because of your career?"
"Because of the distance, and our careers and me."
"What about you?" This was starting to feel like an interrogation.
"Beka you don't want to kiss me," he said sheepishly.
He took a step even closer and though Yuri was taller than him now he felt small. "Are you sure about that?"
"You don't want me I'm..."
Otabek cut him off with a kiss. It was short and warm and Yuri leaned into it in spite of himself.
"I'm rude and impatient. I get angry easily. I spend all my time training."
"I knew all of that already," he said. "I like you anyway." He leaned forward and kissed him again, longer this time, more wanting.
His heart was beating out of his chest, like at the Grand Prix but different.
Otabek's arms were around his waist. They couldn't have that over Skype. The light in Beka's eyes was dizzying and he was looking at him with the same fondness Katsudon reserved for Victor. If there was one thing he knew it was that he couldn't have something casual. He wanted, though he'd deny it if anyone asked, what Victor and Yuri had.
"We have to see each other more often if we're going to..."
"Date?"
Yuri grinned. "Yeah, date."
"You didn't think I was just going to kiss you and run did you?"
Yuri laughed. "Shut up."
***
"Someone looks happy this morning," Mila nudged him and he growled. "Did you and Otabek make up?"
He ignored her and continued stretching.
"I'll take that as a yes," she said, laughing. "What did I tell you? That boy is stuck on you like glue. I'm surprised you two aren't an item yet." She said it to tease him. He could tell by the smug look on her face and the way she'd paused for a reaction.
"We are."
"Excuse me?"
"An item, Beka and I."
The shock on her face was almost too good. God did he like having the upper hand. "We did more than make up hag." His grin was lethal.
The shock melted into something akin to pride. "Well Yuri I thought I'd never see this day. I can't wait to tell Sara."
"No, no, no you can't go spreading it to everyone. We're not like Victor and..."
"Oh would you look at the time," She checked her watch. The short programs were about to begin and Beka was up first. "I'm going to go watch with Sara: my gorgeous and talented, albeit a tad gossipy girlfriend. If only I had some new information to share with her."
"Mila!"
"Good luck Yuri!"
He sighed. Last night he and Otabek had blocked out time to visit each other. They'd talked about a lot of things: how tough this season had been, the 15 things Yuri had on his list of "things I ran out of time to tell Otabek last time we talked and then forgot about," and how Beka had been trying to find a way to ask him out for months before Yuri had stolen his moment. Accidentally, Beka. I didn't mean to, he'd protested. Maybe their feelings had been muddling around inside themselves so long it was time to be a little public.
9 new messages
Victor
Yurio!!! Why didn't you tell me??? <3 I knew you two were perfect 4 each other! ;)
Beka
I was just ambushed and interrogated by Mila and Sara :/ Also do you want to get dinner tonight?
Phichit (Katsudon's friend)
HOW COME IM THE LAST ONE TO GET THE NEWS YURIO???? IM NEVER OUT OF THE LOOP
Sara (Hag's gf)
Double date? ;P
Katsudon (other Yuri)
Great short program Yurio! I heard about you and Otabek. :) Worth it right?
It starts when she loses a bet. It's all Ryoga's fault, too, because Vector's like, "Bet Nasch kisses Yuma three times by midnight," and she's the faithless, "He'll only be drunk enough after the New Year," and Vector furrows his brow, smirking, so she nods, game on, and they shake on it. She's confident, you know, because Ryoga's her brother and an idiot and three just sounds like too many too early, but it's not like Vector is torture to make out with when he cashes in the vaguely established "favors" they bet for—Rio kind of indulges herself when it comes to them—so in the off chance that she does lose, it won't be that bad.
They spend the rest of the party tailing the couple with their phones out to document the evidence, and by 11:20 Ryoga is drunk, pathetic, and armed with mistletoe.
SECRET SANTA DELIVERY TO MY WONDERFUL COOL FRIEND adreus !!! the first was of course inspired by chapter 18 of your lovely Gravity Walk (which I love SO much and HIGHLY recommend to absolutely everyone) and the second probably speaks for itself
GOD I MISSED ZEXAL THIS FELT SO GOOD TO DRAW… LOV U ASA……… HOPE YOU LIKE IT !!!!!!
