No pairing given, so I’ve chosen Chris/Phichit! Set around 2 years ago, after A Thing happens :3 Teases for a story someone will tell eventually!
The Thai man is lying on the couch, curled up beneath his hamster blanket, bloodshot eyes transfixed on some old late-night TV show. This is what he does. Whenever he’s upset. Chris has seen it time and time again in the three years he’s been here. He’s never thought to ask why Phichit retreats to the sofa, but he’s sure he would tell him if he wanted to.
At his call, Phichit blinks and looks over to the doorway where Chris is standing. His eyes are damp and puffy. But he sits up, as if to be polite, and wipes his nose with the sleeve of his pyjama shirt. It’s different from the one he went to bed in, Chris notes.
“Oh, h-hi, Chris,” Phichit says. “What are you doing up?”
Chris takes careful, slow steps into the room. He doesn’t want to spook the younger man. Not after what happened earlier.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Chris admits. “I went to check on you, but you weren’t in your room.”
“Sorry,” Phichit whispers. “I was… I-I’m-”
“It’s all right,” Chris murmurs back, but Phichit is already getting up, clutching that blanket tight around his shoulders. “You can lie back down. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. What happened earlier was…scary.”
Phichit abruptly bursts into tears, startling Chris, and apparently Snowflake who darts out from under the sofa where Phichit’s head was moments ago. Chris doesn’t have to think twice before he’s closed the distance between himself and the Thai man. He pulls the other closer, snaking his arms around the smaller’s frame and squeezing gently. Phichit’s nose is pressed against his chest. He can feel snot and tears wetting his t-shirt, can feel the trembling that rattles Phichit’s very bones. A smaller hand fists itself in the material of his shirt.
“I d-don’t even know why I’m crying!” Phichit insists. “Otabek’s the one who-”
“Otabek was doing his job,” Chris interrupts, refusing to let Phichit go down the road of who has it worse. “He was protecting Viktor. And he protected you.”
“Exactly!” Phichit cries. “I’m okay. I’m not even hurt. Viktor was-”
“It doesn’t matter about them,” Chris says. “Phichit, Vitaly pointed the gun at you. He wouldn’t have cared if he hit you by accident, but he pointed the gun specifically at you. He could have killed you. He would have killed you. You’re allowed to be scared.”
Phichit drops the blanket and returns Chris’ embrace with a deadly grip. Chris doesn’t move. He lets himself be the support and strength Phichit needs.
“Chris,” Phichit whispers, his voice muffled against Chris’ chest. “Don’t let me go.”
