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“Yuri Plisetsky”, he said, his voice sounding slightly rougher than usual. He had the same expression than the day they meet, with his brows furrowed as if the world itself was annoying, with steady eyes and, this time, a bouquet in his right hand “Will you marry me?”
It was the expression that Otabek used when he was the center of attention, he thought. Which was kind of fitting, since what had he just say in the middle of the fucking café oh my god.
Yuri Plisetsky, for the first time in his life, didn’t know how to react. He was conscious of every client looking at him with surprise, of Mila laughing too loud just by his side, and of the bright pink car parking just outside the café. And suddenly, everything made sense.
“Beka” he answered, his hands trembling slightly while he tried to place a cup for some client in the counter bar. He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes for a moment. There was too much, too much pent up anger and honestly didn’t think the day could get any worse that in that precise second “I think I will faint”
Otabek had the decency to look alarmed, at least.
He honestly never thought he would be this in love with someone else.
Otabek Altin was like absolutely nobody else he had ever meet. With a fast motorbike, a stern look, nights at the club and words that pierced through every wall Yuri ever tried to put up. He was like every bad boy in all those old movies his mom used to love. He had careful hands, a soft smile, and he listened like every conversation mattered.
Maybe because all of that, when he found out he was a bit in love, he didn’t find it disgusting. Or annoying. Or surprising, for all that matters.
It was an afternoon shift at the café Yakov owned, and he was tired as hell from the ballet lessons in the early morning with Lilia. He had watched Katsudon make his return to the studio, a confidence that wasn’t there when he left for France, a couple of months ago. He had tired himself in jumps almost impossibly high, trying to shake off the feeling of being left behind.
“But you know”, he said, pouring black coffee in the mug Otabek held. He was sitting by the counter, the café almost empty. Yuri knew he shouldn’t be chatting at work, but with their busy schedules they could almost never sit down and talk properly “I wasn’t jealous, even if they keep asking me if I was. I don’t know why they thought I would be”
“Some may think he is living your dream” he answered, looking at his eyes with an easy smile. Yuri felt the rise of his anger, but Otabek only shrugged a little, like it didn’t matter “I know that’s not the case. You don’t want France. That’s not where you belong”
“Of course not. I’ll make it to the Royal Ballet” he scoffed, even if he knew it was pointless. Otabek already knew that. He had known ever since they were children. Mila passed by his side, hitting him not-so-lightly in the hip, making him yelp “Watch it, old hag”
“You watch it” she hissed, her smile casual even with the harshness of her words. Otabek drank his coffee like this was a daily occurrence. Which was kind of true, actually “If you keep flirting at work, I will tell Yakov, and then he will fire you. And good luck finding a job with that adorable temper of yours”
“We aren’t flirting” he shrieked, maybe a little too high, a little too fast. Mila laughed, going back to the register, with a new client waiting. She had her fun, he thought. Beka keep drinking slowly, looking down at his mug, and suddenly everything was a bit awkward “Well, whatever. It’s good having the pig back. Victor won’t be that much of a bother now.”
Otabek nodded, still not looking at him. Yuri tried saying something else, but Mila was handing him a new order, and the old coffee machine became his priority. The pig had all the attention that afternoon, with a hundred questions about Marseille, about the teaching, the living in France. It had been only three months, but Yuri could feel the change. His stance was difference. The contemporary classes had made him more expressive, more confident. He moved his body like a weapon. All the soft lines, the clumsy steps, all the things Yuri used to mock weren’t there anymore. He suddenly looked as old as he actually was, not like some shy teenager that Yuri could easily scare off. They’d only had time to share a glance, but that was all it took.
Yuri couldn’t help but feel desperate, with Katsuki Yuuri suddenly owning himself.
Lilia always said that Yuri was a prodigy, that he could go anywhere. He had won awards since childhood, he had been offered scholarships to 4 different schools. But he still couldn’t just go. He had his grandpa, and no money to maintain himself. Ballet classes were already way too expensive, and the money he did at this part time job would never be enough. He was 16, and he had all this opportunities at hand, and he couldn’t take any. He couldn’t risk himself to take one, just one, and make a mistake that would cost his grandpa more than he could ever afford.
Yuuri Katsuki had been in Lilia’ studio for two years now. Coming from New York, The School of American Ballet, even if his first competition ever was in his hometown in Japan, that was all it took for him to get a scholarship to one of the best ballets schools in the world. And he had been only a year older than Yuri currently was. He knew, Yuuri Katsuki was something to be feared. He stayed there until he was 21, coming to Russia full of passion and with an enviable determination. And now, he had gone to France. Ecole Nationale Supérieure de Danse de Marseille, only 3 months, but it had changed him so damn much. It wasn’t the biggest school, nor the most recognized, but he had the opportunity and he just took it. And that was so much more than Yuri ever expected of him.
So yeah, maybe he was sulking. Maybe he did feel a bit jealous. But it wasn’t because of France. It was because Katsuki had the freedom to do what he pleased, while Yuri, with all his talent and all that prodigy bullshit, keep himself in that café.
“You shouldn’t criticize yourself so much” he heard, Otabek voice sounding a little bit distant. Yuri handed the mug to Mila, for her to give to the customer. “You will have your time. And when it comes, I will be there to watch you”
“You almost make it sound creepy” he complained, but couldn’t help his laugh. He made it all sound so easy. Once he even said it was his fate. Yuri always feel like he could do everything, once Otabek talked to him like that. It made him feel pretty much invincible.
When he turned to see him, Beka was smiling, dark eyes focused on him and only him. He had his leather jacket on, his hair falling a bit into his face, the mug lifted halfway to his lips. And that’s when it actually hit him. He was sixteen, in the middle of his shift, and Otabek wasn’t really doing anything extraordinary. They were just talking. He just said something he already had said like thirty times before. It wasn’t really nothing out of the ordinary.
But Yuri couldn’t help but think, yeah I may be in love with him.
Otabek said that they meet at a summer class, in some ballet studio Yuri couldn’t even remember. Yuri was around ten, his dancing way more advanced than the rest of the class. And he was beautiful. At least that was what Otabek liked to say. He was the reason Beka quit ballet, too.
The second time they meet, Yuri had started working at Yakov café. He had just turned fifteen, it was his first day at work, and he was pretty much overwhelmed. They had fired him at his previous job, and he needed new shoes or he was going to really injure himself. Mila was the only other person working there, back then. And she was such an annoying hag, too. It was in the middle of the afternoon, with the café being busy, and Yuri didn’t even know how to handle the coffee machine.
And then he came, a big plastic box full of pastries in his arms, a helmet on top of it. Mila said he was the one in making deliveries from the Kazakh bakery a couple of streets down. She had called him a dreamy boy that came from nowhere. Had said he was some sort of local hero, but never really explained why. He didn’t look like a hero, but really, Yuri wasn’t paying attention. He was more than just busy with clients, with drinks he barely understood, and he wanted to scream at this one guy who keep adding things at the drink he ordered.
“So, let me see if I got this right” he said, trying not to let show his grimace. The guy had the sort of scoff that let Yuri know that he was doing a poor job at service, again. He took a deep breath, but couldn’t make himself smile. The guy had sunglasses inside the shop and honestly, that should have been enough of a sign that he was a total asshole “A large mocha Frappuccino, 12 pumps of sugar, free vanilla, 4 pumps of caramel, 3 pumps of skinny mocha and double shot of soy. With extra whip”
Honestly, that sounded pretty disgusting.
“Frappe” corrected the guy, making it sound like Yuri was the most stupid person in the world “A large mocha frappe, were you even listening?”
And Yuri was. He really was listening, but all he wanted to do was to smack the guy in the face. Not even the Pig could ever drink something so freaking disgusting. But Mila was watching, and Yuri needed the job. So he just nodded, his face red with shame, because no matter what he really needed the money. Even if customer service was the worst type of job in the whole world.
“Delivery” he heard, interrupting whatever the sunglasses jerk was about to say. That’s when Yuri looked at him, the plastic box making a soft sound when he put it on the counter. He looked straight a Yuri, and his voice commanded all the attention of every person nearby “Yuri Plisetsky, I need you to sign for this in the back of the store”
And he could only nod, looking at him with wonder. Thinking back at that moment, he could see why the title of hero actually suited him quite well. Otabek Altin made his first memorable encounter by saving him from some hipster jerk with sunglasses. Later, in the back of the store, while he counted the pastries, Beka had asked him if they could see each other after Yuri’s shift. He agreed while eating a samsa, asking in return why he had known his name.
“I will tell you later, if you come with me” he answered, and sounded like a dare. He wasn’t smiling, but there was some amusement in his voice. Yuri snatched another pastry, a baursaki this time, and told him to come by at 7pm.
And he, ever a man of his word, had been waiting outside with his motorbike, and a spare helmet. They had drove up to a hill, watching the stars from up there. Otabek had told him, then. About the ballet camp, about how he gave up. About his country, and his family, and the bakery he worked in now. He dreamed about music, and some kind of respect. He wanted something to show his people that the world could be theirs if they reached for it. His words were careful, his tone gentle, and Yuri was lost.
He had never felt so close with someone else, let alone a stranger. He was reckless, but had never just let himself be in that kind of danger. He didn’t know Otabek, yet he let him drive him to solitude, and heard every word he said like if the world itself could change if he missed any. Maybe it was his gaze, looking at him like he really was there. Sharing bits and pieces of his life, his dreams like it was nothing.
“Why are you telling me this?” he asked, because there was nothing else he could say really. Victor had once said that his bluntness was the reason most people stayed away from him, but Otabek had already seen him about to smack a customer in the face. A blunt question, asked in the middle of nowhere, was absolutely nothing to this kind of strange situation they were in.
“Because I want to be your friend” he answered, his voice stern. He was looking up, at the stars, or the moon, or maybe at nothing at all.
“Why?” he asked again, because even he knew normal people didn’t go around asking that kind of things. Especially to people that made you quit things that you used to love. Especially to people who were as hostile as Yuri was.
“Because you have the eyes of a soldier” he declared, like it was an undeniable true. Yuri couldn’t even feel embarrassed about it, with the way he said it. Like a fact. Like that was all it was. “You were beautiful, and terrifying. And I want to see you take the world, Yuri Plisetsky.”
Yuri didn’t have an answer to that, either, but Beka didn’t seem to care about it. He extended his hand, finally looking at him as if he had took some sort of decision. And Yuri was lost still. But he couldn’t look away.
So he took his hand. It was very much like Otabek, shaking hands with that solemn face of his.
It was all in Lilia, really.
He was dancing, mimicking some movement that the Pig had done earlier, something he learn in France in those contemporary classes. He couldn’t really made it look the same, no matter how many times he tried. Yuuri used pointe when he practiced alone, and that in itself made a whole difference in the way he balanced his stance, make his twirls more elegant, more mesmerizing.
Sometimes, when he watched him practice, all grace and with his feminine movements, Yuri almost envied him. New York didn’t care about what men could or couldn’t do. As far as Yuri knew, they only cared about what was beautiful. And the Pig, when he danced like that, challenging the whole country, looked like he was right out of a fairytale.
Victor said something like that, once. About how he danced as fairy, but had the bravery of a knight. Femininity is a weapon, Katsudon had told him, back when they meet. Yuri had been 15, and he thought his high jumps and fiery movements, his stable stance and grasp of the basics was going to grant him a place in The Royal Ballet. He couldn’t see any other way. But now, at 16, watching how France had changed Yuuri Katsuki to such a diverse dancer, he could see how wrong he was. It wasn’t all about gender, or strategy. It was about what he wanted to do.
And so he danced.
He danced to Don Quixote, the Basil Variation. And some of the Nutcracker, too. And only when he was completely alone, he tried some of the Swam Lake, alternating movements from Prince Siegfried and Odile. He knew he was too brash, too strong for Odile. His movements didn’t look nearly as graceful as they should. It was all hard lines, open gestures, and anger in his face.
Sixteen years old, and he still wasn’t sure what kind of dancer he wanted to be.
Katsudon was 24, and he could audition for any company he wanted to.
Yuri knew better than compare himself to others. He had his own problems, his own way to dance. But it still left a bitter aftertaste, knowing that Katsuki could leave them at any moment, and he was still trapped in that little studio, dancing on his own.
It wasn’t about what Katsuki did, thought. Yuri held his body in a perfect arabesque, looking at the mirror to any mistake. He had spent so many years dancing. So many competitions, so many scholarships that he rejected. He had medals, and titles. He could take the world, as a storm, as hurricane. He was still young. But not young enough to doubt himself like this. The Royal Ballet suddenly seemed like a faraway land. Yuri could dance anywhere, but it wouldn’t have any meaning if he didn’t know what he truly wanted to dance.
And if he was honest, it all started because he wanted to be beautiful.
His mother had been an actress, she had lived wild, loved too much. His grandfather used to tell him about how she always wanted to be a Hollywood star. She had a dozen of roles in movies, a couple in TV shows, but she was ambitious. She wanted to be the best in the best place. And when she died, he had inherited that wish.
He was ruthless, since childhood. A prodigy, they always said. His mom only watched him dance once. And she had said he looked beautiful. So there was that.
Now, it was only his grandfather and himself. There was some money from the inheritance, but he tried his best not to touch it. He didn’t think he deserve it. His grandpa didn’t care much about spending it, though, so he was always buying new shoes for Yuri, paying the fees for the competitions and saying it was what his mother would have liked. It didn’t feel right, thought, to pay up his dream by his mother’s death, so he worked as much as he could to pay the school, the shoes, and all the little things that came with being a ballet dancer.
But if he truly wanted to be the best, he knew he had to make sacrifices. He had to travel, to learn. If he were to stay in that little studio, he would never forgive himself. So yeah, he was kind of desperate. Kind of frustrated. He wanted everything but he didn’t know how to ask.
He tried Odile again, her graceful yet passionate movements looked too hard, too fast on him. Katsuki could do it. He had certain sensual way of moving, when he was in a role that required it. Almost playful, like he was daring people to look at him. But Yuri had his own gracefulness, with his nimble body, his long blond hair, his composed gaze. He could make a good Odile too. He was sure as hell that he could.
And he would be a dozen times more beautiful than anyone else. He was going to win, to stop holding himself back. He would have what it takes, to show everyone why he was more than enough to go to The Royal Ballet by himself.
“It’s good that you are still here” he heard, Lilia’s voice quiet but sure. He stopped, mildly embarrassed. Katsudon was right behind her, a soft smile in his lips that brought a scowl to Yuri’s face. “I was just talking about you”
He steadied himself. He had just made a choice, and it seemed like the right moment to let her know. Let them know, because Katsuki Yuuri had everything and anything to do with this decision. Because it seemed right, more than anything else.
“Lilia” he began, taking a deep breath. He saw her narrow her eyes by his informality, but he couldn’t care less “I want to be beautiful”
And that was probably not the right thing to say, but he mean it. That was the truest thing in his dance. He may be all fire, all intense movements and sometimes even rage. High jumps, passionate focus. He may be all those things, but more than anything else, he wanted to be beautiful. He wanted the attention catching of the ballerinas, he wanted to try on pointes, and he wanted to change.
He meet Katsudon eyes, and his gaze was so soft. Lilia herself looked a bit surprised, at least for a second. But then, she was all business again, lifting her chin in that arrogant look that only a prima ballerina manage to make pretty.
“Well, that’s good. It was time you decided what kind of dancer you wanted to be” she said, like it wasn’t nothing big. Yuri had been at her studio for almost ten years, so he could tell that she was trying to be tough. He could see the slight tremble of her hands. “That's right, dance with beauty. Beauty is a crushing force of righteousness. Strength means nothing without beauty”
“He is already strong enough, though” Katsuki said, like he wasn’t thinking. He went a bit red when he noticed he had interrupted her, but didn’t apologize. Yuri grinned at him, daring him to continue. “What else, Yurio?”
“Nothing. That’s all I wanted to say”
But it was enough, since Lilia looked like she was going to cry, and Katsuki was smiling like a challenge. They got him, one way or another. She nodded, like that was the end of the conversation, turning on her heals to the office in the back of the studio, giving one last glance.
“Tell me where you want to go, when you figure it out. I will make my calls, to see who still wants you”
And that was all. Big decision turned into nothing because everybody seemed to be waiting for him to say a word. A simple word. He looked at Katsuki, feeling a little bit lost, all his bravery stripped down. Katsudon wasn’t looking at him, he was busy making twirls in what Yuri vaguely recognized as Sarah Lapointe Odile Variation.
“I think this Odile suits you better” he said, his arms open, his sneakers in a vague attempt of demi pointe. He made a quick jump, landing with more noise than he ever did with his ballet shoes. Yuri tried to imitate the moment, surprising himself with how easy it felt. This Odile was angrier, more like him. “So, where are you going?”
He made his position de bras, twirling with easy, and each jump was higher, stronger than the last. Katsuki had kicked his sneakers, and was dancing to Odette, the Gillian variation, adding a bit of his free arm movements that made it look more like a plead. He lowered himself almost to the ground, as if begging the prince not to leave him. It was a pretty pathetic Odette, really.
“Gillian version wasn’t like that” he complained, but Katsuki only laughed, jumping from the ground in a brass movement, followed by a twirl, and another, and another. “Victor may like it”
“Maybe. He liked to take freedom in the choreography, when he danced”
“That’s why they kicked him out” he spat, only to make him mad. Victor had been the pride of his country when he was about Yuri’s age. But he was too flashy, too careless. It was a surprise when he left ballet to chase another dream. He was sort of a legend, but Yuri couldn’t care less about it.
“No one kicked him out, you know” he answered, stretching. He was narrowing his eyes at him, faking anger very poorly. “He will be happy to know you finally will leave, though”
“Of course he will be. Maybe you will finally have your damn weeding, once I am gone” he snickered. Katsuki didn’t answer that, choosing to put his face to the ground while stretching his legs, trying to hide his embarrassment, probably.
It didn’t need an answer, though. Victor came back claiming that he fell in love with Katsuki dancing to Oberon in A midnight summer dream back in New York. Yuri had loved to see him in that role too, powerful and dominating, strong and refined. It was all the things Katsuki didn’t have in his normal self. And after they meet, Victor didn’t leave. Theirs was a love story so cheesy that it deserved his own goddamn musical. Maybe one day Victor would make one. But for now, they lived together. Less than a year after they meet, Katsuki had proposed to Victor, and after that, Yuri claimed that they only could marry if the Pig beat him at a competition.
Their age range was too far away to compete, though, so honestly, he just didn’t want to be the flower boy at that idiot’s couple weeding. It had been almost one year since then. And they were still so in love that some days Yuri hit Victor just because it was kind of disgusting to watch the absolute adoration in his face when Katsudon danced.
“So” mumbled Katsuki, very obviously changing the topic “Where are you going?”
“How did you decide where to go?” he asked, ignoring him. It was a fair question. Katsuki had been to at least 4 different academies, and he knew a bit of everything. Yuri had witnessed him break dancing, and even worse, pole dancing.
“Well, I didn’t really thought about it. I didn’t have many options, you know. If I had to say, I mostly went with flow” he answered, rising to his feet. He cocked his head, thinking. “I think New York could be good for you. I have a friend over there who could help. I think it was where I learned the most”
“I didn’t ask for your help”
“Yeah, I know. But I want to see what kind of dance you’ll do when you come back” he said easily, fetching his phone from his backpack. Yuri hadn’t even noticed that he had tossed it with his shoes. There was a smile on his face when he found it, and he just knew it was about Victor “They could take you for the Summer School in New York, its still January. They really value technique, and you could take some pointe classes if you are interested. I think it could work”
And it was that easy. A choice he always had, but he refused to make. But for some reason, everybody already was ready for him.
The world was waiting him. And he feel like crying. Too proud, too happy.
It had been Victor’s idea to throw a party for his 17 birthday.
Of course, he refused, but it wasn’t like Victor ever cared about his opinion on the matter, so when he came to work in the late afternoon, he hadn’t expected a bunch of people yelling happy birthday to him. He had actually screamed, throwing his backpack to the nearest person.
“Why the hell are you all here?” he asked, gripping the door with both hands. Victor and Katsudon were in the middle of the crowd, one looking a bit apologetic and the other smiling like this wasn’t his problem “I told you, I warned you Victor”
“Yeah, I know but you are going to leave so soon” he answered, a playful smile and a finger waging in front of his face. Yuri made his way to stand right in front of him, ready to yell, but Victor stopped him by doing a very dramatic gesture, hand on his chest and brows furrowed like he was in pain. Damn actor, he thought “I just wanted you to have a last celebration before you leave us, Yurio. I was really thinking of you, you know? I even convinced Yakov, isn’t that amazing? It proves my devotion to your happiness”
“I leave in three damn months!” he yelled, because it was true and all of this was absolutely ridiculous. There was too much people, and the café wasn’t a place to party. “If you just wanted to get drunk with Katsudon then do it at home and leave me alone, dammit”
Victor didn’t answer that, resorting to that one look of his like Yuri was still an unruly child. He flinched when he saw him raise his hand, only to put it in Yuri’s head like he mean to pet him. This was his shut up and accept your place, damn brat gesture, and he couldn’t help but step back. Katsudon apologized quietly, giving Victor a glance that sent him back into his puppy mood.
“Yakov and Lilia are here. Your grandpa, too” Katsuki said, ignoring the whining of Yuuuuuri, that was a surprise that Victor keep doing. He had his hair pushed back, just like when he danced, and he looked older than usually. “I know you didn’t want this, but it can’t be that bad. You will be gone for three months, with the summer school and the private lessons Lilia got you, think a bit about the people here. They will miss you”
“You said it like you didn’t leave no one behind in Japan” he complained, because he felt a bit betrayed but Katsuki only smiled that sheepish smile, shrugging a little like he was caught guilty. “Well. Look at where life took you, though. Now you have an idiot-almost-husband and two dogs.”
“It isn’t bad, isn’t it?” he asked, smiling at Victor with all the fondness that Yuri found disgusting. Victor took his hand, the one with ring, a kissed it. Yuri couldn’t help but make gagging gestures, because no matter how old he was, all this cheesiness was sickening. “Let’s see where life takes you, though.”
“Yura” he heard, Beka’s voice sounding a bit husky. He was holding Yuri’s bag, and he honestly had no idea why he looked so worried, or why he had his bag at all. “Your grandpa is drinking with Lilia”
“Let them be” he answered, looking around. The counter was now a makeshift bar, and there was a table full of food. Yakov, Lilia and his grandpa were talking and drinking, laughing a bit. There was a lot of people, dancers from Lilia’ studio, some actors and models that were definitely friends of Victor. But he couldn’t care less about it. He looked back at Beka, smiling slowly “Let’s go for some food. Don’t get drunk and strip, Katsudon”
“That’s rude, Yurio!”
“He has a point, Yuuri” he heard Victor said, laughing all carefree. “And don’t escape with Otabek, or I am telling grandpa Nikolai”
He didn’t answer that, because he was pretty sure Victor wouldn’t dare. Also because of course he was going to run away with Otabek, but only after he got some food. Beka seemed to understand this, opening Yuri’s backpack to fill it with pastries and a couple of sodas. They went out of the café, with Otabek telling him how much of a bad idea was to escape from his own birthday party, and how he helped bake the cake. Yuri had to assure him that they were going back just in time to eat the cake. They took the motorbike, driving a couple of streets down, to the Kazakh Bakery, just because it had a bench outside. They sat down passing food between themselves, opening the cans of soda and laughing a little bit because it was all too ridiculous.
“So” Otabek started, his voice too solemn to be serious. Yuri smiled at him, his face stuffed with a piroshky that tasted very much like his own recipe “What was the reason for the sudden decision?”
“Right, I haven’t really told you” he answered, because it was true. He had sent his audition at the end of January, prompted by Katsudon, and after that Lilia decided that he had to train a little bit more than usual to impress everyone in New York. He knew it was more because she had got him private lessons with Minako Okukawa, Katsuki’s former teacher and an ex prima ballerina who rivaled Lilia. “I think I just realized that I wanted to be beautiful”
Saying it like that, it was a bit embarrassing. He had thought by now everybody knew about his sudden revelation back at January, since Katsuki was awful at keeping secrets from Victor, and Victor himself took gossip as his second profession, just after choreographing. But then again, Beka had been busy. He was taking DJ gigs out of town, at big bars, and lessons on classical composition. It was funny to think now, how the distance had feel like nothing, yet they had been missing so much out of each other.
“But you already are?” Beka answered, like it was obvious. Yuri couldn’t help but blush a little, because he could never get used at the way Otabek said it.
“Well, but it isn’t enough” he scowled, because faking being mad was easier than let Otabek saw how much all this conversation meant to him. How all this evening meant a lot to him. He didn’t know how to say it, how to put it in words without sounding dumb. So he decided to change the topic, because it was his birthday, and they were alone, and Yuri could feel his heart beating too fast “Hey Beka, tell me why you stopped dancing. As my birthday gift, please?”
“I have already told you. It wasn’t my dream.” He answered, looking at him with his endless calm. Yuri had to look away, feeling suddenly too exposed. He gave a bite to another piroshky.
“Yeah, I know but I was thinking” he muttered, trying to come up with anything. He had been thinking about it, about how it would feel all this months without him, how Beka would feel about it. He had been thinking about Otabek a lot, but he couldn’t say any of that aloud. “We could be dancing together now”
It was a bit impossible, he knew. Competing against each other, travelling the world in the same dance troupe. It was too idyllic, and it made him feel a bit stupid saying it, but Otabek was considering it like it was a serious matter. Because with him, every word was worth attention. That was one of the things Yuri liked the most about him.
“When I saw you dance, I realized that I didn’t want it as you did.” He said finally, lifting his eyes to the stars. Yuri looked at his profile. “Your whole heart was poured in every movement. It made me stop and watch. And I realized that, in contrast, I wasn’t even trying. So I gave up. It wasn’t my dream to live. Watching you only made me realize it. I had many things that I wanted, anyway. To bring pride and joy to my city. I could do that with my music.”
He didn’t answer. He had heard that many times before, many variations of the same story. But it was always a bit sad. He didn’t feel sorry for Otabek, or anything like that. Yuri had heard his music, and he knew better than anybody else that Beka was going to go back to Almaty with dignity. His sadness was more related to the fact that they could have meet, so many years they lost. Back then Yuri was still ten, admiring Victor as a dancer, thinking it would be easy just to go to London and make it his. He wasn’t lonely, back then, but he would have been happier growing up with someone who blindly believed in him as much as Otabek did.
Sometimes he wondered about how Beka had felt in that moment. If Victor had felt the same, when he retired. Victor had no family left, but his grandpa had taken him as he was a Plisetsky too. He didn’t know the whole history, but grandpa Nikolai spoke kindly about Victor’s mom. So they had known each other all their life. Yuri had been 12 when he suddenly heard in an interview that Victor Nikiforov was leaving The Vaganova School to go to United States as an actor for some film. It was such a huge controversy, back then. And Yuri had been so mad with him that things never were the same. He went away, fell in love with some Japanese boy in a play in New York, and came back pursuing him. And now he was working as choreographer for the same school he once left. It was pathetic, and annoying. Unforgivable. His grandpa didn’t care, said that Vitya is a free spirit, he is just chasing life. But it never made sense to Yuri.
It was scary, to think that one day you could wake up and don’t love something as you did before. He had lived his life clinging to things that were absolute. His love for dancing, his love for his grandpa, his hard work, his constant practice. He believed that dreams are things you made come true. He even said to Victor once if you don't have any inspiration left, you're as good as dead, with all the conviction that a thirteen year old could muster.
“We should go back” he said, looking at the floor, because everything felt too real and too heavy right now. Beka didn’t answer, but took the empty can of soda from his hands, tossing it to the backpack, and passing him the spare helmet.
The drive was quiet, and ended too soon. They could have walked, really, but Yuri liked the motorbike, and Beka knew, of course, so there was no question there. Back inside Lilia kissed his cheek, and Mila lifted him up yelling a happy birthday that was meet with insults. His grandpa only smiled, lifting his glass at him. Yuri couldn’t help but smile at him. There was the cake, and Victor found it funny to throw some at Yuri’s face, which became a fight. Katsudon tried to make him open the gifts, but he refused with all his might, too embarrassed by all the attention he was receiving.
And then there was music, and Katsuki made him dance, a revenge from their last competition. He was in the improvised dance floor, laughing at how fucking drunk Katsuki was, with Victor cheering loudly from the counter. He knew his grandpa was watching, but honestly, there was no way he could go easy on Katsudon. It was all or nothing, every time. And maybe because of this, he managed to feel better. Because he wasn’t going to ever regret choosing to dance. This was his passion, and his life. It was all the conviction he needed, to know that he loved every second he ever spent moving his body with freedom and practiced grace. This was him, ready to take advantage of everything he could to win.
“Not fair” Katsuki wheezed, his shirt exposing half his chest. Yuri couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “You are cheating cuz it’s your birthday”
“I never cheat”
“But you never win either!”
“Shut up, Pig!” he yelled, making everyone around them laugh. Katsuki made a very complicated breakdance movement, and honestly Yuri didn’t even know why he bothered. He tried a high jump, a twirl, and suddenly he collided against someone else.
“Victor, dance with me” he heard, competition be damned, it seemed. Katsudon probably didn’t even remember why they were dancing, anyway. He looked back, and sure enough it had been Otabek, because the world was one hell of a cliché, and Yuri had the worst luck.
“Sorry, wasn’t watching” he muttered, feeling shy. Beka smiled at him, far too amused and Yuri narrowed his eyes at him “What.”
“Actually, you were going to hit the wall.” He explained, his voice soft, even with that insufferable smile playing in his lips. “I caught you”
“Well, thanks. Now I have to, to go” he stammered, but Beka had his hands in Yuri’s shoulders, and he turned him to be face to face “What is it, Beka?”
“You said earlier that we could be dancing together” he explained, moving one hand carefully to Yuri’s waist, lowering his eyes with that shyness that didn’t suit him “So, if you want to, I would like to dance with you”
And just like that, Yuri was charmed. Falling in love all over again, with just a few nervous words.
Yuri had nodded, and he was slow dancing at some random song with Otabek Altin. They danced to lively music, and slow, romantic songs. They danced around the room, fooling around a bit, mismatched steps, and breathy laughs. And Yuri felt dumb for doubting about himself for even a second. When he wanted something, it was forever.
Otabek had muttered about Pas de Deux, and Yuri had let himself be lifted in a very bad interpretation of Don Quixote Act II. He made a show of himself, spinning like Kitri would do, and Beka was out of breath trying to keep up with him, but taking the challenge with a fiery smile that suited him a thousand times better. Victor was whistling at them, and he could heard Yakov’s laugh. There was a rock song and they were spinning around, feeling silly and too happy to care about how it all looked. Katsudon came to join them, spinning them both even faster, daring Yuri to imitate some sensual movement from a rap song, laughing at Otabek shocked face. Victor came behind him, taking him by the shoulders for a second.
“Didn’t I say so? I am devoted to your happiness, kitten” he whispered, and Yuri knew he was making it sound creepy on purpose. But he had been right about the party, so he let it past with a quick kick and a laugh.
“Come and join us, old man”
It was the end of June, and they were at the airport.
Yuri had insisted that it wasn’t a big dealt, but it seemed like nobody cared about his opinion anyway, so they were there. He had said goodbye to his grandpa earlier, who had only squeezed his hands with a come back safely, Yurochka. I will be waiting. And maybe he had cried a little. But now, with Katsuki, Victor, Lilia and Otabek there, he couldn’t help but feel a bit annoyed.
“But are you sure you got the letter?” Lilia asked for the third time, and he screeched loudly because how could he ever forget the damn letter, when she had instructed him a dozen times about how he had to give it to Mikako Okukawa. It was still one hour before he had to take the plane, but they were driving him insane.
“Yes, I am sure” he answered, for the third time, between clenched teeth. Lilia gave him a stern look, but Yuri was done. “I will go buy a snack from the vending machine”
And he jumped to his feet, planning to run to the other side of the airport and hide until it was time to go. Katsuki was playing with his phone, and Beka was too quiet. It was unnerving.
“I will go with you” Victor said, because of course life was unfair. Yuri was going to protest that he could find the damn machine alone, but Victor looked serious, for once, so he probably had something to say. Yuri gritted his teeth, starting to walk, Victor following closely behind.
They were near the bathrooms when Yuri noticed he didn’t even bother with bringing money to buy something. Victor went past him, his eyes fixed in a café, and Yuri really didn’t like the irony of it all. Of course he would choose a café. Of course. Victor sat, waiting for him to follow.
“So. What’s your deal?” he asked, sitting in the opposite side. Victor ordered black coffee for both of them, ignoring the question while chatting with the waiter about the snacks they offered. He was used to this, with them being almost family. Of course Victor would ignore him.
“When will you come back?” he asked, once the coffee came, and the little pelemeni he had ordered. He took a photo of their food, eyes everywhere but on Yuri.
“The camp finishes in August four, but I won’t be back until the thirty” he answered, taking a dumpling and eating it in one bite. The coffee was too bitter, like the one he used to make before coming to Yakov café. It was all in Victor, how he got the job. Yakov had been a ballet dancer too, an instructor in the Vaganova Ballet, and he had given lessons to Victor back when he still danced so he took Yuri, even with his foul mouth and poor customer service.
“I will take care of grandpa Nikolai and Potya while you are gone, then”
“Quit the bullshit, old man” he snarled, kicking Victor’s seat for good emphasis. He didn’t look startled, or even mad. He drank his coffee in one go, looking at his phone.
“Are you sure about this, Yurio?” he asked, and that alone almost made him lost his temper. What right did he think he had, when he quit, when Yuri was about to go. “I am not talking just about New York.”
“Why are you even asking? This is none of your goddamn concern, okay? I am going, I don’t care if you don’t like. I don’t care”
Victor looked at him, sighing. This past two years, Victor had found himself as a choreographer in the plays he had once abandoned. All because he felt in love. Yuri hated him for it. For his uncertainty, for leaving, for thinking he deserved to come back.
“I am not going to tell you not to go. I know you love dancing” he said, making sure to look him straight in his eyes. Yuri tried to muster all his anger, put it in his gaze. To burn Victor with the fire everybody told him he had inside. “I know you are not like me”
“Then why.”
“If you come back before September, then you can apply to the YAGP” he said, his voice serious, gripping the empty mug of coffee into his hands. Yuri felt the anger leave. And the air. And everything, really, because that was the last thing he ever thought Victor would say. “The Youth America Grand Prix will take you in the senior division, if you apply by video. You could take the semifinal at China, or in the United States, if you want”
“Victor, what the hell”
“I have been talking to grandpa Nikolai” he explained, and his smile was brilliant. Yuri didn’t even know how to feel. “You are going to be 18 by the Final round, in April, and you know the age limit is 19. So yeah, I thought we should talk about it before you go, so Yuuri and I can have everything ready for you when you come back”
“This is ridiculously sudden” he said, leaning back into his seat. It wasn’t sudden, Victor was right about his age. And the YAGP was his best shot for the Royal Ballet. It had always been. Yuri had thought about it, but he didn’t have the money for all those travels “How am I supposed to go? You know I can’t afford it”
“That why I asked grandpa Nikolai” Victor said, as if it was obvious “I will pay for it. I never had a way to thank him for founding me a home when I was little, he never let me help with money, so I thought, that maybe making your dream come true will seal my debt. Of course you will have to agree to take me as your couch, and Yuuri will help with anything you need, since he already won silver in New York. I know we are running out of time, but we can make it”
“And grandpa said yes to this?” he asked, because yeah, it was sudden, and absurd. He didn’t want his money. Nor his help. But this was a chance. This may be his only chance.
“He told me he wanted you to be happy. That I didn’t have any debt with him” he muttered, smiling like it hurt. Victor had always been too expressive, and Yuri knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t making that face only because of his grandpa “Please think about it. It’s all I ask. Yuuri and I will be there for you, so just think about it”
They ended the conversation right there, because Yuri couldn’t find the right words. He felt like crying, and he wasn’t sure why. They went back in time, 15 minutes before his flight, and Lilia hugged him with too much strength. Katsuki only held his hand, telling him he was going to visit him and Minako in a couple of weeks because he had some business in New York, and Yuri couldn’t help but wonder if he had made his decision as well. And Otabek only stood there, looking at him like he was breaking his heart.
“So, I am going” he said at him, because he didn’t know what else to say. Beka nodded, his eyes firm. And Yuri still feel too fragile, too empty, so he went and hugged him. “I am going”
“Yeah” was all he got for answer, but Otabek had but his arms around his waist, tightly, taking a deep breath. Yuri refused to cry, hiding his face in Beka’s shoulder, his long hair falling around him like a veil. “I will be waiting”
Victor had the brilliant idea to have a party. Again.
This time it was a welcome party, though, so it was in a bigger place. Some hotel owned by a friend of his, with a pool and a proper bar. Yuri had been back for a week, now, so it was kind of stupid, but he let it go.
He had been witnessing a drinking contest between Lilia and Minako, feeling just a bit sorry for Lilia when he saw Otabek with Victor. That itself was an awful signal, so he went following them. The party was in its peak, with most people drunk, some even swimming, and the dance floor (a proper dance floor this time) was full. It was mostly a party because Victor liked parties, not really because Yuri was back.
Beka was standing near the pool, arms crossed and that expression on his face that made him look pissed, but it actually mean he was thinking a lot about something. So Yuri had the right to feel alarmed. Victor keep patting his back with his heart-shaped smile, either too drunk or worse, too happy to care about falling to the pool. Yuri had manage to creep behind some kind statue, just when the Pig decided to come.
“So this is about Yurio” he heard him said, his voice too loud and too drunk. Okay so, this was ten times worse than he thought. “You don’t have to worry, you know?”
He hadn’t been able to talk with Otabek that much since he came back. The one time Yuri invited him to the studio to watch him dance in his new pointes, to Odile at first and then Kitri, and then Prince Siegfried. He had wanted to see in his eyes how much he had changed. But Beka only clapped, a sad smile in his lips, and a simple That was indeed beautiful, Yura.
He had learned pointe, and ballroom, and a bit of contemporary. He had learn a lot. They called him The Russian Fairy, back in New York. And when he came back, Lilia had said you've evolved into your own form of beauty, Yuri Plisetsky, with her eyes full of tears. But Beka didn’t seem happy about it. And then, both of them had been busy. Beka had his music, and Yuri his dance and his work. He knew maybe they were avoiding seeing each other, but didn’t know how to fix it. What to do when Otabek wasn’t acting like himself.
And now this. Talking about him with Katsudon, of all the people. He was tempted to push them all to the pool.
“No, he had been sad” Katsudon answered to whatever that Beka said, nodding like an idiot. He keep yelling, too drunk to care, and he was missing his shirt. “Look, it’s not like Yurio knows you love him”
And Yuri couldn’t help the loud “WHAT” he let out, sending to hell all kinds of discretion. Making all of three look at him. Well, making almost anybody nearby look at him.
“Oh, dear. Now he does know” Victor said, all heart-shaped smile like this was the most entertaining thing in the whole world. Beka looked about to punch someone, which probably mean he was pretty damn embarrassed. And Yuri keep hiding behind the statue like that would help. So maybe it was a bit entertaining. That didn’t keep Yuri from charging forward, pushing Victor to the water, as if he was the culprit of all this situation.
“SHUT UP YOU OLD MAN” he yelled, bolting to the dance floor, because he didn’t know where else to go. He heard Otabek calling him, and Katsudon yelling something else. But he couldn’t go too far. Mila caught him by his arm, looking confused “Let me go, hag!”
“What is happening now?” she asked, taking his other arm and secured them on his back. She looked at Otabek, frowning “Why are you playing Cinderella? Did I miss something important?”
“None of your business, so now let me go” he hissed, and Otabek was near, so Yuri actually thought of biting her arm. Beka was there too soon thought, and suddenly he couldn’t move. Or breathe. Or anything, really, because all he could feel was his heart pounding too fast.
“Thank you” he said to Mila, and frowned at Yuri. She looked between the two of them, and let go of his arms, steeping back. “Please don’t run”
“I will go now, but you own me, Beka” she said, waving goodbye with lazy fingers. Yuri knew she was going to ask him for details later. But it didn’t matter, because right now, Beka was right in from of him, Katsuki Yuuri had said Otabek loved him, and he feel like a fool.
“You heard”
“I did”
Yuri couldn’t look at him. He felt his face burn with embarrassment, and he was happy, and confused. He was going to leave again in a couple of weeks, and Beka loved him. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t run. Otabek was looking at him, finally looking at him, but he didn’t know what to say.
“Well, so now you know why I couldn’t say anything when you danced” he heard him said, and that was probably the most confusing thing he could say in that situation.
“What. What does that mean?”
“When you came back, and danced for me” he explained, giving a step back to put some space between them. Otabek looked younger, with his hands in his pockets, his gaze suddenly on the floor. Yuri had been taller than him since he was sixteen, but he had never seen him like this, purposely making himself look so small. “You were so beautiful and I wanted to tell you. But I didn’t know how to tell you without saying that I loved you. Never would I have thought that someone with such an unforgettable gaze could transform every movement into perfect grace. You were beautiful. More than I can put into words. You looked stronger, kinder, and terrifying. I was, for once, scared of your beauty, because it looked like you could burn me alive just by watching you dance. But I didn’t know how to tell you. You are so close to your dream, Yuri, I didn’t want to tell you yet”
Yuri couldn’t help but raise his hand, reaching for Otabek’ leather jacket, and clinging to it because he didn’t know what else he could do. They were right outside the dance floor, in the middle of the party. Yuri was seventeen and he was leaving in two weeks to the semifinal of the YAGP in Japan. He gripped at his jacket harder, because he feel too helpless, too young.
“So that’s it” he muttered, out of breath. He couldn’t look at him. Beka took his hand, softly, and Yuri closed his eyes “I thought I had messed up, you know. That you didn’t like me dancing anymore, because of the pointe or some stupid thing. I don’t know.”
“No, it wasn’t like that” he said, his voice so damn gentle. Yuri forced himself to meet his gaze, and Beka was looking straight at him as if he was the only thing that mattered. And as if he was breaking his heart. “Do you want to dance with me?”
“Only if you let me lift you this time” he said, weakly, letting Otabek intertwine their fingers.
He had passed the audition, the video one. And he had fought with Victor about what kind of program he was going to dance in Japan, because he wanted to be himself, and Victor told him that that may mean to become a monster. A beautiful one. And Yuri took the challenge with pride, practicing hard, taking lessons with Katsuki and letting Victor help him perfect the choreography. They had made everything sort of a secret, actually, because everybody thought he was going for the most obvious answer, some classic like the Nutcracker, or even Don Quixote. He was leaving tomorrow, and he was waiting outside the bakery for Otabek to finish his shift.
“What is it?” he asked, as soon as he was outside. Yuri only grinned, taking the spare helmet and telling him to drive up to the hill. “So it’s something important”
They drove in silence. Yuri almost couldn’t contain himself. Being so close to Beka lately had this effect on him, making him hyper aware but happier than anything else. They hadn’t say anything since the party, so it wasn’t like they were dating. Yuri still hadn’t told him that he loved him, too. But for now he had the YAGP, so that could wait. He knew that Otabek was patient enough.
Once at the hill they watched the sun set, eating bread from the bakery. Otabek told him about how a friend of his had called him for a rock band, in Los Angeles. About how there was an offer for a big music school to be a classic composer, but he didn’t know which one was the right thing to do. About how his mother had called, and she wanted to see him soon. Yuri listened, until there was silence again, and there was no more bread to stuff his mouth. And then he said:
“It’s not Prince Desire” with a smile on his face. Beka looked at him, all his attention focused on Yuri. “I know Victor said that, but it’s a lie. You know how he likes to surprise people and all. So this is a secret, but I am not dancing the Prince Desire variation from the Sleeping Beauty”
“So, what are you going to dance?”
“Flames of Paris, Ivan Vasiliev variation” he said, looking at him, and he could tell the second Otabek realized what that mean “Remember how you said that I looked like I could burn you alive? Just watch, Otabek. This is about revolution. I will only leave dust behind”
And Otabek was looking at him like he was fascinated, and terrified. And smiling like he couldn’t help himself.
So, Yuri had just turned 18, it was the middle of March and he had the YAGP final in New York in two weeks. He was going to gain gold, and score himself a place in The Royal Ballet of London. But for now, he was working at Yakov’ café, and Otabek Altin had just barged in with a bouquet of roses and asked him to marry him.
“I think I will faint” he said, gripping the counter because he was mostly seeing white. He wasn’t sure it was from anger, or because of the surprise, or whatever, but he sure as hell feel like passing out. Mila was clacking, Otabek looked like a kicked puppy, and Victor Nikiforov was parking his bright pink car right outside the café.
Yuuri was the first to barge in, looking plenty of ashamed, stumbling with words because absolutely everybody was watching this like it was right out of a drama. It kind of was, honestly.
“Yuri, are you okay?” Beka asked, but he didn’t move. He at least looked worried, and a bit embarrassed too, so Yuri could forgive him a little. Just a little.
“Explain” he said to Katsudon, gripping the counter until it hurt a bit. Katsuki looked appropriately frightened. That when Victor decided to come in. Yuri wanted to smack his big forehead on the damn door.
“Look, Yurio. I, well, we. No, really, it was mostly Victor”
“Did he said yes?” Victor asked, completely oblivious. Yuri jumped the counter, not caring about the job because if he committed murder, Victor’s money was his anyway. Probably. At least if he wasn’t arrested. It would be worthy, anyway.
“What the actual fuck did you tell Otabek?” he asked, hissing because he didn’t want to yell. Victor blinked twice, like he didn’t understand the question.
“Oh I just told him that since you are so obviously in love with him, he should take the next step. You know, it’s been months, yet nothing has happened. Really, what’s wrong with you two? Anyway I told him how Yuuri proposed to me” he explained, his hands flying around with vague gestures. Yuri was about to punch him “Told him it was romantic, because of course it is. Anyway, you are going to leave soon, and who knows when you two will see each other again. I am just devoted to your happiness, kitten”
Victor had actually dodged the punch, and suddenly Otabek was restraining him. Katsuki had the decency to look mad, for once, and made Victor go outside of the café. And everybody keep looking at them.
“I am sorry” Katsudon said, he even bowed. Otabek was still restraining his arms, which was kind of awkward because Yuri was way taller than him. “I didn’t know it would turn out like this. I thought he was just going to confess normally, you know? I didn’t know Victor had convinced him of this. I mean, it’s mostly my fault. I was the one proposing to Victor, I suppose. But I didn’t know he was using that as an argument for you two.”
“We are not like you two freaks who were talking marriage less than a year after you meet” he snarled, and Katsudon looked a bit ashamed. Which was good, he deserve it “I am not going to marry Beka yet”
“Yet?” Otabek asked, almost surprised. Yuri wanted to punch himself.
“I think you should have this conversation somewhere else” Katsudon muttered, his cheeks red, and the whole café watching.
“First let me kick Victor”
And he did. He didn’t even say goodbye to Mila, he just went outside and kicked Victor in the back until he fell and told Otabek to drive again. Beka seemed pretty out of it, but obeyed. They were on the road for a long time, Yuri trying to gather his thoughts. Beka had asked him to marry him. He had just turned 18. The YAGP Final was in two weeks, and he was leaving soon. Beka had left the bouquet (and good deal of his dignity) at the café.
Yuri asked him to stop by the bakery, sitting down on the bench outside. Otabek was just looking at him, standing right in the middle of the boulevard, like he didn’t know what to do.
“Look, we are not marrying just because I am leaving” he started, and realized he should have told him to drive to the hill. Worse yet, realized that all of this was his fault. “I have no idea how Victor convinced you to ask, but that was pretty dumb”
“Yeah, it wasn’t the best timing. I should have thought more about it” he answered, smiling a bit. It was the kind of smile that made Yuri want to kiss him. And he realized that, yes, it’s been months, and they hadn’t kissed. “But I mean it”
“You did?”
“Yuri” he started, sitting down by his side, and closing his eyes. His smile changed, a proud edge to it “Now is the time for you to take center stage. The whole world is waiting for you. You won’t forget what it is you want, I know. You will fulfill your dream. Only you can make it reality. Live your life. Dance your dream. And it would make me the happiest man in the world to be by your side when you take the world.”
“Beka.” he muttered, a quiet warning.
“I know now it’s not the time, but I have loved you since the first time I saw you. I fell in love with your eyes first. And then, with your dream. I love you. And I know I won’t stop loving you, so yes, I mean it. I would love to marry you, when you are ready” he finished, opening his eyes, that foreign shyness taking his features “That is, if you want me as well”
Yuri bend down, hiding his face in his own lap. He feel tears come, but he couldn’t cry. He already knew Beka loved him. He already knew he meant every word he said. Yuri had known, for such a long time. But he couldn’t answer, not yet.
“Otabek, I do love you” he said, because he owed him at least that. “But I won’t answer you yet. I want you to watch me in New York. To come with me, and watch. And only after, I will answer to you”
“You know I won’t change my mind, whatever the result is?”
“Yeah, I know” he said, taking a breath and rising to see him. He knew there were tears on the corner of his eyes, and that his face was probably an ugly red. But Beka was looking at him. And that made him brave enough “But I want our first kiss to be when I win gold. We can take our time. For now, all I want is to win”
“You are going to” he answered easily, taking his hand and interviewing their fingers. Yuri laughed a bit, embarrassed and pleased. The world was waiting him. And he still felt like crying. Too proud, too happy.
“Let’s see first where life takes me, though.”