Yuri Plisetsky doesn’t believe in anything as fanciful as God. He’s worked for everything- chance and fate and higher powers have never helped him, only talent and hard work and trying again. No, Yuri is an atheist, a skeptic, to his core. And yet...
Yuri Plisetsky doesn’t believe in God, but he knows the sun and moon to be real. He knows of their ‘powers’, how they can meet in their perpetual orbits, how it’s the sun that makes the moon shine. It’s a romantic notion, but it never fails to make Yuri think of a certain golden couple.
Yuuri always seemed to smile a little brighter around Victor. His eyes were softer too, less anxious.
It made Yuri want to scream, to wail, to yell and cry, to shout at the sky that “it wasn’t fair, goddamnit! I found him first!” but he glues his mouth shut. He may be petulant, may expect his way, but he knows that he has to earn it. Yuri’s not even sure that he’s truly earned Katsudon’s friendship.
Falling in love with a thousand moving frames of beautiful action wasn’t the same as falling in love with the person in them, wasn’t going to let them love you back. Sometimes he pretends that it is the same, that he ever had a chance with that idiot, but then he’ll see the two of them together again and Yuri will see the truth again.
In his stupid analogy, Yuri’s still not sure who’s who. Maybe Katsudon’s the moon, glowing around Victor, basking in his light and becoming more beautiful from it- or maybe he’s the sun, giving Victor the energy and passion to open his fucking eyes, to grow as a person.
Or maybe he’s overthinking it.
They asked him to be the ring bearer at the wedding and Yuri swallowed the remnants of his pride, wished he could swear about his luck, and accepted. It’s worth it for the look on Yuuri’s face, overjoyed and a little drunk on love. It feels like a face reserved for Victor, more intimate than Yuri deserves, but fuck it, he’ll take what he can get.
Then Victor sweeps them both into a hug and hauls them back into the party Christophe is throwing for his engagement to Phichit and the face is gone.
Stumbling back into his hotel room, Yuri wonders what he would have been if he had ever really dated Yuuri. The sun or the moon? It seemed stupid, even now, ridiculously drunk. He’d been sixteen when he’d come up with it, with a raging emotional boner for Yuuri Katsuki and a bone to pick with Victor dearest.
Still... maybe he would have been the moon, stunning and feminine, paired with Yuuri’s Eros and sun. It’s a nice though to his muddled mind- Yuuri is good. Yuuri is familiar. Yuri’s spent too much time thinking about him, so now it’s easy to settle down into the regular, well-worn mental paths of Yuuri’s hair and eyes and smile. To think about Yuuri’s body and his body, together.
Yuri’s pretty sure that that stupid Katsudon was his first love. He hates him for it, hates the thief of his heart and head, and then lets it go. Yuuri was his first love after all- how could he hate him for that?
The wedding is beautiful. Yuuri doesn’t take anyone with him and cries for half an hour after it’s done. His first and latest love, married. It’s a tragedy and a romance and a comedy and so Yuri just cries and cries until there’s nothing left for him to cry, nothing left for him to feel.
Yuri Plisetsky doesn’t believe in God, or destiny, or fate- only the cold hard facts in front of him.
But sometimes, when he looks at Yuuri and Victor, he can’t help but wonder.
