#sorry i was in the mood for old woman yuri yearning

[outism-had-a-purpose]

Outis-centered crackfic treated seriously where she assembles an ikea bed with some sinners (for. whatever reasons) and thinks about her wife and their olive tree bed back at home in the process.

[ellipsesarefun]

But my heart longs for you

Otayuri Week 2017 Day 4: Reunion

A/N: Sorry if this is late.. I’m emotionally spent. UGH. Tried to look for something and I ended up reading angst, tried to get past the angst that I felt and came up with this. viola. This is the conclusion to “now i gotta wash my mouth out with soap”. I’ll put this up on Ao3.. Enjoy.

He was supposed to have an immense amount of positive feelings.. but he can’t bring himself to have them.

Because he’s up on the podium, a gold medal hooked on his neck. On the outside, people can expect that he’s elated. This was the metal that figure skaters fought for; of course he’s happy, of course he’s proud of himself. Truth be told, his thoughts are elsewhere. His eyes were straying from the crowd to a certain figure skater below him, the one who took second place. His mouth was taut straight yet his dark brooding eyes speak for themselves.

They barely had a proper conversation, mostly consumed with extra practice hours, discussions with their coaches (with disgusting PDA and outings on Yuri’s part) and laying next to each other in either hotel room. Nothing has changed, merely a few comments on his growth spurt and his long braided hair and new remixes from Otabek’s laptop.

However, there were also some additional adjustments from Beka’s part... The lingering gazes, the frequent light touches on the arms and shoulders (once on the face, when he tucked a strand of gold behind his ear; his fingers hovered for a moment before pulling away), and the sudden compliments were just part of the package.

And the smiles. Otabek was known for his stoic face and private personality, only displaying a glimpse of emotion to a certain amount of people who mattered. Yuri is a part of that group, and, he begrudgingly admits, even Mila as well. Months ago, they’d been engaged in playful flirting, possibly secret makeouts and dates. But that was then. To Yuri, however, there was something there (and how far his lexicon stretches, he’ll keep referring this ambiguity between them as something). It seemed that these body languages underlie an intent, an implied romantic intent. He supposes his deductions stemmed from his romantic feelings for his best friend... Because why else would he think there was this something in his actions?

But that wasn’t the reason his mind was wandering from his golden victory.

His performance spoke volumes of his wanton emotions that he was harboring these months. Similar to his music project, both his short program and his free skate were outlets of his unified theme: unyielding yearning. Initially he decided against it, with the excuse of the theme being too sappy and extra and so.. Viktor and Katsudon. However, he gave in, with the help of his annoying friend.

“It’s your feelings. It’s your own soul on the ice.” She reasoned, “What’s wrong with it?”

She turned to him, chocolate irises shining with wisdom, “The ice is your canvas. Paint however you want it to be.”

So he did. He poured every single drop of paint of every color on his canvas until the whole rink was filled with the brush strokes of his blades. Every second he was on that ice, from beginning to end, each step sequence and jump, were centered on his unbridled love; all from his first reunion with him in Barcelon to this Grand Prix Final, all those late night talks in the dark gloom at three in the morning, all his quirks and physique, all his mixtapes, all his flaws, everything else that branded as Otabek Altin was displayed on ice.

His friend wasn’t the only one who knew. Both Katsuki and Viktor caught on once they reviewed his choreography and music.

“Ehhh whose this for, Yurio?”

“A message for your beloved?”

Fucking extras.

People started speculating. Most of them were his fans. Initially, they drew hypotheses on the so-called unresolved sexual tension between him and a certain Canadian skater, JJ. While it did follow the hate-you-but-like-you trope, it was as false as his leopard prints and everyone is aware of his happy and successful marriage with Isabella Yang. It’s simply a fucking catastrophe to imply such lies when the wife can see it all over international media. Others had their speculations on Mila, but that simmered down when she recently had her eyes on one Sara Crispino (they were caught making out several times, reporters noted).

His friendship with the Kazakhstan Hero wasn’t out of the formula either. Through the years, his fans butchered into every detail of their social media affairs. Their “factual evidences” stemmed from tagged photos and posts (mostly Otabek’s latest remixes and recently, Yuri’s music project), always speculating that there was something brewing between them. His program theme and music choices made it worse. They now have an official fucking ship name (Otayuri, Yuribek or--ugh whatever). Never had they brought this up and they mostly ignored what others were whispering behind their backs whenever they saw each other during competitions. Not a word of opinion (negative or otherwise) could be heard from Otabek and Yuri did not wish to push anything further.

And thus, it was to be expected that the said best friend, whom he harbors romantic affections for and has now absolute acceptance of them, is completely and utterly oblivious to the message of his program theme. He never once mentioned his theme (out of cowardice and embarrassment) and Otabek never questioned it. It wasn’t entirely part of their conversation, most of their skating topics were about step sequences, jump dynamics and music performances, because he was his best friend and best friends are supposed to have some semblance of a psychic connection.

Somehow, that wasn’t the case for them. Even until now, Yuri has some difficulty deciphering his many stoic expressions and it seems that maybe he in turn was not blatant enough at times when he needed Otabek to know. He still isn’t completely certain on Otabek’s say on the matter, or if he does have an answer for him. Tine said to paint a canvas. But what was the whole point of presenting the whole canvas when the buyer doesn’t understand the intricate stories behind it, or doesn’t even want it anyway?

The thoughts continued to linger within the front of his mind until he realized that the exhibition gala has come to an end the after party is only hours away. He suddenly found himself being cajoled by none other than his “feelings assistant” and sole adviser.

“Yuri!!!” She crashed into his arms, crushing his lungs in the process. Now having had his growth spurt, he looked down at the crown of her black tresses and placed a hand on top. For a twenty year old woman, she was quite petite. 

“Hey.” His voice croaked a greeting, cracking from the lack of use. Immediately, the said girl looked up, crumpled eyebrows of her perceptive chocolate irises and blatant frown on her face. 

“Are you okay?” She asked, voice so small and fragile yet carried the weight of her words. He palmed her head repeatedly and gave a tired smile.

“Yeah. Not in the mood for a party I guess.” He said, to which she responded with a smile.

“Hey guys!!!!” a familiar voice hollered from the side. The two let go and turned their heads to see his rinkmate waving at them with a bright grin on her face. Beside her was Otabek, the usual soldier face as his expression. The second he saw them, his heart jumped, missing a beat. He knew they weren’t together anymore, but just the thought of them...

No.

He blinked and gave his head a little shake, hopefully warding off any assumptions that permit to linger in his mind. He managed a smile, noting the way Beka paused in his steps and the flicker in his eyes. He knows something.

“Hey guys.” He forced a cheerful greeting. Now is not the time for irrational jealousy to take place. However, it only grew worse now that her arm circled the entire span of his shoulders.

“Beka,” he momentarily flinched at her use of his nickname (his nickname for Beka; not that it was only his but still), “and I are gonna grab some food with Sara. Wanna come?”

“Sure!” Tine replied without any qualms of hesitation, as food is now at the center of her mind, “I’m hungry! Yuri’s coming, so there!” Great. There was no way for him to protest otherwise since her friend already decided his fate. The four made their way out of the stadium. Yuri was carefully pacing his steps, expecting Otabek to walk beside Mila and he with Tine. Instead, his red-haired friend grabbed his only saviour by the arm and dragged her a few feet away from them, already gushing which delectable desserts to eat. 

That, in turn, left him trailing after them right beside Otabek.

Great. Just what he needed.

He measured his breaths with his footsteps as he urged his friend with his stunning emerald eyes, hoping that she had some ounce of intuition that she’d turn around and bring him away from this rut he made. She caught on, chocolate to emerald, but merely stuck her tongue out before resuming to their conversation. 

Bitch.

Pushing down his growl into a small grumbled sigh, Yuri supposes this wasn’t such a bad idea. He can be cool. He can be chill. He can set aside his brewing emotions with unflappable poise. He’s done it before. But just as his walls start to build up, they only crumble at the brush of a group of fingers. Beka’s fingers. Somehow his callous fingers found their way in his. They pulled him forward, as he was too stunned to walk. He stumbled before retrieving his spot beside Otabek, the latter still linking his hand with his while avoiding his gaze.

“We should catch up.”

And just from that minuscule, casual gesture, Yuri is not convinced that Otabek is oblivious as he once believed.

***

He did not imagine he would have an opportunity with Otabek by losing the other two along the way.

It had only been just a second--maybe a couple of minutes, or an hour, maybe-- that he was window shopping around the area for leopard prints and cat merchandise (there was this sale going around and they have quite an abundance of good quality) when suddenly he couldn’t find Mila or Tine anywhere. He turned around, eyes scanning for a familiar mop of red or black hair but nothing except a crowd of strangers. He took out his phone from his pocket to check for any messages from the both of them.

Nothing.

He typed a message, sent it, and wait for a couple of minutes.

Nothing.

What the fuck? 

His eyes stray towards Otabek, who looked apathetic despite their situation. The latter felt his stare and turned to him, dark brown irises twinkling with a question.

“Aren’t you worried?” He asked, “They could be anywhere by now.”

He shook his head. “They’ll be fine. They probably decided to look for other stores that sell ice cream cakes.”

“Did they at least message you?” He shook his head again, not bothering to pick his phone up.

“Weird...” He muttered to himself, but before he could deduce the situation further, Otabek laced his hand with his once more and dragged him through the crowd of people.

“Come on,” he goaded, dark brown eyes burning bright under the night lights, “They’ll be fine. Let’s just.. enjoy ourselves.” That put the conversation to rest and the two found themselves walking the streets along the Passeig de Gracia. It was the Christmas season, so the brilliant display of lights and enthusiastic tourists come to life. 

The rest of their evening fared to be one of the best nights he’d ever been to in Barcelona. They aimlessly wandered off for awhile, whether in silence, long brooding conversations or just nonsensical topics. This was monumental bliss, Yuri mused. He’d never had Otabek like this before. Sure, they did go out after competitions, but this was new... with added bonuses. Aside from Beka’s wonderful smiles, hand holding is apparently now added to the list. 

But now there’s the flirting. Strangers flirt (in bars, or clubs, or wherever or however the usual romantic plot lines go). Friends flirt (which is pretty harmless and just playful banter here and there). Of course, everyone is aware that couples flirt. 

Exhibit A: Katsupiggy with bald old man PDAing anywhere and everywhere at anytime and all the time.

Exhibit B: Otabek and Mila. They had their... secret whatever. (Pure fucking torture to watch them)

He’s pretty sure Beka has his fair share of girlfriends and boyfriends. Because who could not? He’s fucking hot, with those chiseled jaw, manly stoic eyebrows and (may the fangirls add) “brooding eyes” with a those define abs. There was no way in hell he was single forever (and yes, they’ve talked about this in passing and yes, he’s had his fair share on... things). Yuri also has his affairs, some make outs here and there outside the watchful eyes of his territorial fangirls and some casual dates outside his life on ice. 

He could have anyone, he could fall for anyone, really. This is a human-infested planet, of different walks of life. Anyone can fall for anyone

But no, because there’s him. He’s Otabek Altin, who skates with fire and power of the god of victory, who rides motorbikes around the cities for the thrill of the wind, who has stacks of heavy reading that Yuri sometimes has difficulty in (he tried to finish a Jane Austen novel; weird English), who DJ’s for fun at clubs (and even gifts Yuri with unreleased track songs; original ones in fact) and who has manners of an English duke. 

He’s Beka, his best friend, who saw through his brash facade and saw the vulnerable soldier raging his internal battles, who called him a Legolas when people visioned him a Tinkerbell, who stole his heart and added a rainbow after every storm that clouded his life (and past) so far. They’ve been through countless of trials together and here they are.

The tug on his hand silenced his thoughts. They had stopped somewhere.. He checked his surroundings and paused. The two stood at the edge, a beautiful landscape painted in front of them.They were at the top of Park Guell where the starless canvas loomed before the dazzling Christmas scenery of Barcelona.

“Otabek this is--” he paused, a memory playing in his head.

“Yuri Plisetsky had the unforgettable eyes of a soldier.” Those were the famous words he once told him in this very spot, the day they became friends.

“Yuri. We need to talk.” He swore he heard quad flips in his stomach. Yuri took one glance and he knew what was coming. (stupid brooding eyes, stupid fucking jaw, stupid soldier) 

“What about?” He tried his best not to stutter his words. He clenched his fists to pace his breaths and his palpitating heart. 

“About that kiss..” Oh my fucking fuck fuck fuck, “Did you.. mean it...?” He swallowed, as if an attempt to push down any ideas of running away from the situation. He took three intakes of air before mustering his answer.

“Yea..” His voice came out small, but he couldn’t stop there, “It wasn’t supposed to be like that, but I wanted to.. Just...” His mind came to blank, as he tried to find the right words to say.

“Just...?” He urged him on.

“You don’t like me that way.. You were with Mila at that time, all flirting and going on lunch dates and it fucking sucked and it was the last day with you there and I just couldn’t fucking resist but.. fuck!” He threw his arms in exasperation before falling them to his sides, “Fuck it sucked because I love you and you’re with her and I just wanted.. to try something before you left.. but I don’t know, I didn’t think it meant anything to you, which is expected and that’s okay, because we were okay for the past months right?” He just broke the dam to let the river flow. There was nothing that can hold it in anymore.

“Yuri...”

“And Tine was just so fucking helpful with her fucking music project, saying we should go share our feelings and all that shit and why not put all your feelings in your programs. Because that’ll give him an answer, right?”

“Yuri..”

“But I don’t know, you didn’t say anything, so I didn’t say anything cause I’m a fucking coward, and that’s okay because still talking to each other but it’s also not okay because it’s killing me and I just-”

“Yuri!-”

“It fucking sucks.. I know got a fucking gold medal after all this shit, but it just fucking sucks because you don’t get it and I don’t know how to make you get it without.. without-”

“YURI.”

“WHAT?” He screamed. He looked down, realizing he was now in front of Otabek, with his hands held tightly on his shoulders. His eyebrows furrowed over his dark chocolate pools that melted with concern. His lips puckered down slightly (it’s fucking distracting) that Yuri had to avert his eyes away.

“..You’re crying.” His eyes widened with surprise and he lifted a finger to trail the wet trails on his face.

“Wha? No.” He know he was denying, but it was a habit already, “I’m not crying.” He wiped his face with his palms tiredly, “This is just salt.. from the air.. and it came to my eyes...”

“Yuri..” This time, Otabek took the liberty to wrap his hands around his cheeks, thumbs soothingly preening his still wet skin.

“I’m okay, Otabek. Really.” Lies. 

“No.. It’s not.. I hurt you..” He whispered and somehow Yuri wondered how the hell his face was an inch from his.

“Yea you did, asshole.” He laughed; a weary laugh, “It’s not your fault.. You didn’t know.. You were in a relationship..”

“That was only casual..” He reasoned but Yuri shook his head.

“Still..” These were the moments he wanted to run, to escape, to hide away but his body drooped from all the pent up exhaustion that prolonged the months of silence. He parted his lips again to say something, anything, because the awkwardness is just stabbing him but stopped because-

Fuck. His lips are on his lips. His lips are on his lips. His lips are on his fucking lips and he doesn’t know how to respond. This was out of his expectations. 

And then suddenly, his mouth was left hanging, and his face was shot with woodpecker kisses; they were too many to count.

“What?” He was still dazed, his conscience was still too foggy as if he were drunk by Beka’s affections, “What did you-” He was cut off by another kiss. He let go and curled his fingers around his face with firm intent.

“Yuri. I know. And I love you too.” He confessed, earning a skip of a beat in his own heartstrings and flush of pink filling cheeks. He pressed their foreheads together, dark brown to emerald full of adoration. They both shared loving smiles, both spent from the emotional confessions and-

Damn.

He felt loved, cherished and that was the best fucking feeling he’d ever felt all day, all year, because this was the moment he was waiting for, the moment that he never thought would come but it happened and it’s real and Beka’s real and their love is real..

And no gold medal can elate his heart like this.