#midnight-blues09

[yurionice-secretsanta]

To @midnight-blues09 From @cosmiclion

[yurionice-secretsanta]

To @charlietinpants From @midnight-blues09

Young and beautiful

~Will you still love me, when I’m no longer young and beautiful?~

Victor stared at himself in the washroom mirror, the stagnant morning silence only interrupted by the swish of the hair brush going through the slight knots in his hair. The pale blonde-platinum complexion of it wasn’t as shiny as it used to be. Victor knows. He used to know more often, until the life-love hurricane gave him a more worthwhile pastime to notice the nuances of his beautiful husband than picking on his flaws.

In the dreary silence of the morning, its easier to notice more. The creases near his eye corners have gotten more distinct with age, resembling wrinkles (they’re not wrinkles he knows, he’s had them since teen hood), they make him look serious Yuuri says.

He hates them a little less when Yuuri caresses them with the rugged pads of his fingers as if trying to rub off Victor’s hate that has settled on the skin.

He can only stare in amazement at the delicate, almost scared, touches of his lover, the way Yuuri appreciates even his eyelashes as if they were silver phoenix feathers and how he murmurs sweet nothings as he holds him close.

He wasn’t young anymore, of course not as ancient as Yurio might claim, but he could feel it in the slight stiffness of his knees and the rising of his hairline. He was still beautiful, he knew that too, but he couldn’t help his mind from straying at the thought of a future where he wouldn’t be.

He knew the places where his wrinkles would appear— near his eyes, Yuuri thinks when they do appear, they’d look like small victory signs; marionette lines on his face, mirroring his father; maybe the folds of his cheeks near his nose would grow more distinct.

The thought had terrified him when he was younger, of growing old, of retiring, the loss of his youth and beauty. Even gods have their fears, for him it was the loss of devotion the crowds would have for him, how would he face himself in the mirror every morning. He is a little vain on that note, he knows it too.

Victor was broken out of his trance as he heard the bathroom door click open and a very sleepy Yuuri with probably the prettiest bed head of this universe, stumbled in. He puts the hairbrush down and wraps his hands around his husband’ waist, his face slotting on the other’s shoulder like a missing jigsaw piece.

The sound of the wooden brush hitting the counter brought some semblance of wake in Yuuri, who smiled softly, leaning into the sudden but not unwelcome warmth, ’ that smile could light up a thousand suns’ Victor thought, like the lovestruck fool he was. 

And he wondered not for the first time, ‘will you still love me when I’m no longer beautiful?’, a small part of him cursing himself at doubting his lover. 

-×-×-

Hot summer nights, mid-July

When you and I were forever wild~

Yuuri Katsuki didn’t think of Hasetsu much for the 5 years he had been in Detroit. He remembered- yes, he remembered the pain in his mother’s eyes as she sent her anxious son half the world away to a crime ridden American City, for the sake of his dreams.

He remembered Vicchan’s unknowing tail wagging thinking it was just another long walk to the station and not the last time he would see his owner.

 He remembered Mari giving up her dreams to take care of their parent’s onsen when he rode his whims shamelessly; he did not even have the courage to ask what her dreams were.

 He remembers the glittery pink “Goodluck Yuuri-kun” banner that Minako and Yuuko had brought along to see him off (as atrocious as it had looked, he loved it).

And he remembered his father fighting back tears which were borne from some odd sense of pride and not sorrow, how could he have been proud of 17 year old meek little Yuuri who had done no great task even in juniors. (He didn’t even break a single record of his idol, 3 national gold medals, a JGP silver and a junior worlds bronze could matter less).

But he never missed the life he had there, as peaceful as it may have been, he hadn’t had the entirely picturesque high school experience, he had been eager, like every other teenager, to leave the nest and fly off with dreams that seemed between his reach yet far, far away.

But it had all changed the past two summers that he had spent in Hasetsu. Each walk home after practice from the rink, the way they had taken slight detours just to hold hands a little longer and keep on walking. The burn in his limbs from all the practice was nothing compared to the burn of his heart when he looked into those cerulean eyes, soft in a way only for him to see.

There was not a day which didn’t include being smothered in the infinite affection and their wedding– first a quaint traditional Japanese ceremony and then the western counterpart with all their skater peers on the white sandy beach.

How Victor’s hands had held him at the wedding alter when they kissed, like he was the most precious thing Victor had ever held, and how in his vows he had slipped in the words “You’re my sun, you make me shine like diamonds” and Yuuri had smiled fondly at his soon-to-be husband’s Lana Del Rey obsession. 

And he remembered the bliss that had followed the day when their expensive tuxedos lay forgotten on the floor, he remembered the sound of crickets and warmth of his lover’s embrace.

——

The crazy days, city lights

The way you’d play with me like a child~

The juniors at Yakov’s rink arrive around 8 am for their morning practice, and they are rarely surprised anymore at the sight of the recent 2017 grand prix champion Katsuki Yuuri and his ridiculous living legend of a coach pair skating with the joy and giddiness of teenagers in love, except their movements are refined to the finest and the edges they scrape on ice look like impeccable modern art.

It was so easy to get entranced by their skating when Victor danced around his beloved Yuuri like a butterfly in mating season, and even more easy to lose oneself in their skating when Yuuri followed the suite chasing his lover like nothing else in the world had ever mattered (which was probably true considering how sappy they were).

The whole point is, this morning rendezvous shouldn’t look anything but ridiculous but somehow it worked for them, it just did. Periodically, Yakov would grunt and murmur something about fooling around and wasting ice time and yell at Vitya and his protégé to get serious for the world championships that were knocking at the door unless they were considering to switch their career to ice dancing, but the fondness in his eyes betrayed his words.

Oh, and the pain in their eyes when they parted for their separate cross training shortly after as if they wouldn’t meet again for the next 100 years, except they would, at lunch which was in barely 4 hours, the juniors thought with each their separate deadpanned faces.

—-

I’ve seen the world, lit it up as my stage now Channelling angels in the new age now~

Sometimes Victor would look at young Yuri Plisetsky who had a fire in his heart that Victor too used to have, although Yuri did have it on a more blatant display unlike Victor who made his life look effortless; but Yuri was not the second coming of Victor Nikiforov, neither did he make music with his body like the Japan’s ace.

Bits and pieces of their skating did blend into Yuri’s over the years. You could see Victor’s shadow in the way he lands his quad lutz (Victor helped him learn it) or you could see Katsuki Yuuri’s touch in Yuri’s growingly sharp and precise edgework or ravishing step sequences (Yuuri had been helping him on Yuri’s not-at-all enthusiastic request). But he was his own skater, the way he moved and expressed himself on ice was his very own signature, nobody’s hand me down.

Victor felt a lot more relieved about his retirement when he saw Russia’s more than capable rising ice tiger. Figure skating would keep changing and keep growing with talented young skaters like Yuri, each bringing their own colours into the sport and maybe Victor was very glad to be at the side lines coaching a few of them alongside his Yuuri.

He had won the most gold medals in figure skating history, he had revolutionised the sport with his quad flip (God did he sound utterly vain phrasing it like the reporters always had), it would be wrong to say he didn’t enjoy it, somewhere along the way he had felt extremely ecstatic riding his success, charming the world with his charisma both on and off the ice. He had loved fooling around with Chris in unknown streets of unknown towns, he had loved every funky gala program he did (even the Britney Spears one in a hot pink tank top) and breathed the attention like it was the sweetest fragrance of all.

But now, he was just as happy and a lot more grounded nearing 30. He couldn’t ask for more.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Will you still love me when I got nothing but my aching soul? ~

But sometimes

When I come back from the rink after you finished your practice an hour earlier,

“Yuuuu~ri I haven’t showered yet; I am dripping with sweat”

“Mmm don’t care Vitya” he says pressing us closer together.

I think

When you give me these little surprises…

“You made me holodets! Yuuri, I thought you hated cold meat jelly; you almost threw up when you tried it”

“I know its probably not like your mother’s but its your favourite, I hope it tastes decent.” You said with a smile that should be illegal.

I know you will

Even if I am impatient.

Even if I shut you out (it becomes a habit when you have been alone for so long)

Even if I don’t understand the depth of your anxieties sometimes, and think I can kiss it away like the stupid stupid man I am.

I know that you will.

“As sweet as I find it Vitya, those are some extremely sappy lines even by your extra standards”

And Katsuki Yuuri, the man of the day, was standing behind me, peeking at my laptop screen with a shit-eating grin.

“Let me be a sap in peace Yuuri detka.”