"Staying in the moment"
an art-inspired drabble
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“We’re done, gentlemen. Thank you for the photo session.”
The last flash fades, and neither of them moves.
Victor thinks this must be the first of many times—standing together after competitions, medals heavy around their necks, cameras pointed at them as if they belong there. Together. His smile grows before he can stop it. He likes the idea too much: his hand resting at Yuuri’s waist, familiar and allowed, something he doesn’t have to think twice about anymore. He wishes—briefly, dangerously—that this could be forever.
Yuuri is warm beneath his hand. Steady. Real. Home.
It’s been home since Victor left Saint Petersburg behind without looking back, since he chose a quiet town in Japan and the skater waiting there over everything he used to be.
Yuuri doesn’t stop smiling either. Victor’s arm stays hooked around his shoulders, like it has no intention of leaving, and Yuuri lets it. He loves this—being held, being chosen so openly it borders on reckless. Victor has always been like that. Smiles, touches, kisses given freely, until Yuuri feels impossibly valuable, like something rare and worth protecting.
Victor had him from the moment he showed up in Hasetsu, unconcerned with pride or expectations, just wanting Yuuri. And Yuuri holds on now, fingers firm at Victor’s side. He doesn’t want to share. He doesn’t want to let go.
Victor is his. And that hand around him makes sure everyone knows it.
“Excuse me,” the photographer says again. “I don’t think you heard me. The session is over.”
It’s been ten minutes since the first time.
They heard him.
They just don’t move.
All they want to do, is to stay in the moment.
