Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Yuuri does not own a car, but he has a license.

He hardly ever drives, though. There simply is no need in a city like this, where everything can be easily reached by foot or by public transport that is even reliable, to own a car. Victor owns one and drives it because it is convenient and it allows him to keep his privacy.

Today, however, he feels too restless to drive without crashing straight into a tree.

So Yuuri is driving his Mercedes, looking unsure and surprisingly small on the driver’s seat, but he is determined to remain a source of calmness for Victor, who can hardly sit still beside him. No one could truly blame him.

It does not happen often that one meets one’s mother again after many years of silence.

“I hate traffic,” Yuuri murmurs as he turns around a corner rather carefully in the expensive car, as if afraid of accidentally crashing it into something or causing damage to the car paint. Victor would never care. Things like that are just objects, a car is just an object, nothing that can’t be fixed or replaced. He has never understood the obsession that many other men have with cars in general, and while he likes the cars he owns (four in total, and according to Christophe that is an embarrassingly low number for someone of his status) he does not worship them.

“You’re doing great,” Victor says softly. “But I know what you mean. The traffic in the city is terrible. Thank you for doing this.”

“Of course,” Yuuri says, without any hesitation. “Taxi drivers cannot be trusted to not leak your location, it is too far away to walk, and using public transport means to serve yourself to the paparazzi on a silver platter.”

There is absolutely no judgement in Yuuri’s voice, and Victor is once more amazed by the sheer understanding that Yuuri offers him at all times, even though he has never lived through it himself. Their lives, yes, their relationship would be so much easier, if Victor were not a famous actor. But Yuuri never complains, never argues.

Yes, Yuuri is still far too good for him, but the ring on his finger tells Victor that Yuuri is determined to stay.

“I promise I’ll drive us around when we’re in Japan,” Victor says to lighten the mood a bit.

Yuuri gives him a look. “We drive on the other side of the road there, you know that, right?”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

The traffic light turns red, and Yuuri brings the car to a halt.

“Are you okay?” He asks and reaches over to take Victor’s hand, squeezing lightly. “It is okay to be nervous. You haven’t seen her in many years.”

“I know,” Victor sighs and brings Yuuri’s hand to his lips. “I keep… I keep wondering if this was a mistake. Asking her to come.”

“You will only know if you meet her,” Yuuri says. “I think it’s best if you enter the situation without any expectations. But I know that is easier said than done.”

He frees his hand from Victor’s grasp as he needs to drive again, but it does not break the connection between them.

Victor knows that his boyfriend is right – after all, Yuuri is a great deal smarter than he is, and that is a fact – but it is indeed easier said than done. It is impossible to enter such a situation without any expectations.

He thinks back to the phone call they had had almost one month ago now. Hearing his mother’s voice had sent uncomfortable shivers down his spine, had made his throat feel very dry and constricted, but all of that had passed.

“Mama?” Victor swallows, his gaze fixed on Yuuri, who watches him and gives him all the confidence in the world. “It’s me.”

For a moment, it is quiet on the other end of the line. And then, a gasp, a sob, a voice as shaky as Victor feels on the inside.

“Vitenka?”

He hears his mother take a deep breath, followed by the clattering of what must be dishes, most likely. Perhaps a cup that has been dropped onto its saucer.

“Vitenka, is that… is it you?”

“Yes,” Victor says, his gaze still on Yuuri, who speaks no word of Russian but who certainly understands the words “Mama” and “da”. Yuuri’s face is unreadable, but he comes closer and touches him gently, leaning his head against Victor’s arm in silent comfort. “You left your number with my agent.”

“I—I did,” his mother replies and draws in a breath. “I… I didn’t think…”

“That I would return the call? Yes, me neither,” Victor says before he knows what he is doing, but the words are spoken and out in the world, impossible to take back. He closes his eyes for a second and takes a deep breath himself. “Anyway, what did you want?”

For a moment, there is silence again.

“Your father,” his mother says, “he… he passed away in June last year.”

“I know,” Victor replies, “Anton informed me.”

Another silence.

“Vitenka, I… I wanted to call earlier but I couldn’t, your father, he—”

“We both know that he was an arsehole, Mama, well before all this,” Victor interrupts her out of spite. “It is not like he physically kept you away from the fucking phone.”

For a long moment, his mother does not say a word.

Victor pulls the phone away from his ear to check if the call is still connected, but there is no error.

And then, she says something that Victor has never expected to hear in his life.

“Your father was a monster that is now rotting in Hell and I am finally free of him”, she says, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I had no means to contact you as long as he was there, Vitenka. I… I did not dare.”

Victor looks down at Yuuri, who still holds onto his arm and stays with him ever so patiently, the warmth of his body the only thing keeping him sane, keeping him calm.

“As far as I remember, you were not exactly silent when it came to my homosexuality,” Victor says. “So what do you want now? Money, because he didn’t leave you a penny?”

“Please, Vitenka, let me explain myself to you. I want to see you, I… I want to see you just one more time to tell you everything, and if you decide then that you still don’t want me in your life, I will never bother you again, just… please give me the chance, Vitenka. Just… just the one. Please.”

Victor knows he is clutching the phone a lot tighter than he should, and that there will probably be a few cracks in the display, but what does money matter to him.

“One moment,” he mutters and lowers the phone, looking down at Yuuri.

“She wants to see me,” he says in English. “To explain herself.”

Yuuri meets his gaze, his hand soothingly on Victor’s chest. “So?”

Victor swallows. “I don’t know what to do, Yuuri.”

In the end, it had led to this day, and to this place.

Yuuri parks the car in front of the hotel where Victor will meet his mother. It is not where she is staying, but where they will meet in the tea room. The place prides itself on his discretion when it comes to important guests and visitors, and is therefore better than any public café where a fan could easily recognise him.

Today is not a day for wearing a beanie and old clothing.

Today, Victor wants to look his best – for himself, for his confidence.

Not to prove anything to his mother.

“Are you alright?” Yuuri asks softly, taking his hand. “Do you want me to come with you? I can cancel the class at Minako’s if you need me to.”

Victor shakes his head. “I need to do this on my own, I think,” he says and nods in affirmation for himself. “If anything’s the matter, I’ll call. I promise.”

“Okay,” Yuuri says and leans over to kiss him gently on the lips. “You’re looking like a heartbreaker today.”

Victor chuckles into the kiss. “Is that a good thing?”

“Very.”

Yuuri pulls back and tucks a strand of hair behind Victor’s ear. “I’m proud of you, Vitya,” he says in earnest. “No matter what.”

Victor swallows thickly. “I love you, Yuuri.”

Yuuri blushes, still, even after almost a year.

“I love you, too,” he says softly.

Victor manages to not kiss him senseless but gets out of the car instead, buttoning his jacket as he walks up the stairs and into the hotel lobby, his head raised and with Yuuri’s ring on his finger.

He has not paid for his mother’s flight or hotel. No, she has paid for it all by herself, has not even asked Victor to help her out with what must have cost a small fortune – she had never earned a lot of money.

Would he have paid for it, he wonders, if she had asked him to?

Victor is not sure if he can answer that question, not even to himself.

No one stops him on the way to the tea room, of course, all of them recognising Victor Nikiforov™ at once. The chief waiter himself greets him as he approaches.

“Good afternoon, I have a reservation,” he says.

“Certainly, Mr Nikiforov,” the man says. “Your company has already arrived.”

Victor nods and follows the man into the tea room, past the piano that plays soft ambient music towards a table at the other side of the room, where it is more private and more secluded, and more appropriate for a meeting like this. Various large palm trees frame the picture, opening the second half of the room up into a space that reminds more of a Victorian green house, were it not for the marble floor and antique furniture. Were it not for the woman sitting there, hair as fair as his own, her hands clasped firmly in her lap.

Inessa Nikiforova gets up the moment she sees her son, her eyes wide as Victor approaches their table.

“Mama.”

“Vitenka…” she says with hesitation and looks at him in wonder as Victor unbuttons his jacket and nods to the waiter.

“Green tea for me, please. A Japanese blend, if you have any,” he says and sits down.

“Very good, Sir,” the waiter says and turns to Inessa, who is slowly sitting down as well. “And for you, Madam?”

Victor is about to say that his mother does not speak any English as he is taught better.

“Black tea, please,” she says, accentuated, but clear.

“Very good, Madam,” the waiter says and gives a little bow before walking away.

Victor raises his eyebrow. “Now that is new,” he says in Russian.

Inessa smiles a bit, wringing her hands on her lap. “I have learnt English,” she explains. “So I could read articles about you in the English newspapers and watch your films. Your father didn’t know.”

“Is that so.” Victor knows he is far more sarcastic than he should be, that this is outright cruel, but he cannot help himself.

Far more cruel things have been inflicted on him, and his mother had been part of it.

And yet, it pains him to see that his mother flinches at the tone of his voice in that moment.

“I have watched them all,” Inessa begins. “Your films, I mean. You are a very good actor.”

“Thank you,” Victor says and does not mean it. He is not here for flattery.

“I think… I think The Picture of Dorian Gray is my favourite,” Inessa says, and that answer surprises Victor a lot. After all, he has played an openly gay painter in it.

His parents’ very nightmare.

“Why?” He asks before he knows what he is doing.

Inessa shifts on her seat. “You still had your long hair in it,” she says quietly, “and you looked almost like the last time I saw you.”

The waiter returns with their tea, carefully placing two delicate cups and their saucers on the table, followed by two pots of tea. Victor thanks him, the man nods, and then disappears without another word.

“We are not here to speak about my films, though,” Victor says then. “Are we.”

“No,” Inessa sighs and looks down at her hands. “I’m… I don’t know how to begin, actually.”

Victor takes the pot of green tea and pours some of it into his cup. “How about we start at the very moment you let my father kick me down the stairs, declare me no son of his, followed by you drawing the kitchen curtains when I looked up to the window, looking for help? How about we start right there, Mama. Right there.”

He puts the pot back down a tad too firmly and grabs his cup, leaning back on his seat, looking at his mother sitting opposite to him. As if she were frozen.

Again, she does not meet his eyes.

She is looking down at her hands, the hands that she wrings nervously, rubbing at her wrists.

“I cannot forgive myself for anything that happened,” she says quietly.

“It is not up to you to forgive yourself for the things you inflicted on me,” Victor snaps, causing her to look up in an instant, eyes wide. “This is not how it works. If you are looking for unconditional absolution from me then leave.”

“No, no,” Inessa whispers and shakes her head vigorously. “No, Vitenka, I’m not… oh, God above…” She brings her hand up to her face, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I… I want to… to apologise and to… to explain myself, as I said to you before, because now I… I can finally do that, even if it is too late already.”

Victor does not reply right away.

He takes a sip of the green tea – good, but not as good as the one Yuuri makes for him – and feels his anger subside a little, becoming more manageable.

“Then explain yourself,” he says eventually, putting the cup down again to pour his mother’s cup instead. “Since this is what you have come here for.”

Inessa nods and takes a deep breath, reaching for the cup he has filled and taking a sip, apparently not caring about how hot the tea still is. She clutches the cup as if it were her anchor in this very situation, the only thing keeping her grounded.

“Your father,” she begins softly, and this time, she actually looks at him right away, “used to be a kind man when I met him. When I married him. It was only after he lost his job at the firm and after the fall of the Soviet Union that he… drank and became… aggressive.” She fixes the sleeve of her blouse carefully, as if trying to hide her wrists. “I thought that it would become better over time with his new job and the change of scene that he had that did not happen. The kind of people he met at work, how they spoke and behaved, it was all very… not good. He would come home already drunk and say horrible things to me. You never heard them, because you were in bed already by the time he—”

“I heard them,” Victor interrupts her quietly. “What he said to you. I heard all of it.”

Inessa becomes very still, watching her son in a mixture of shock and sadness.

“I spoke to social services and asked them what I could do, I told them that you were little and that your father was beginning to take it out on you, too, but they told me that all men were stressed due to the change of the political system, that there was nothing they could do for me, that I should just… sit it out.”

Victor looks down at his ring.

“You could have left him,” he says. “You could have gone to grandma. She was still alive back then. We could have gone there.”

“We did,” Inessa says quietly. “Victor, we did. And he came and dragged us back. Your grandmother was old, she couldn’t do anything.”

Victor looks up at her, looks at his mother and tries to remember this precise time but finds nothing of it in his mind.

“You were so little,” Inessa whispers. “So small, still. It is good you do not remember this time, Vitenka.”

Perhaps the memories are there, somewhere, buried deep in his subconscious, locked away for his own good. Victor cannot tell.

“I stayed with your father because I had to,” Inessa goes on, “and I prayed every day, every night, that you would not become like him. That you would be kind and gentle. And my prayers were heard for my beautiful boy. You were not ever like him, not even once. Not even in your features did you ever resemble him. I was and still am so grateful for that, Vitenka.”

“And yet,” Victor says and touches his ring, “you called my nature an ‘abomination’. I recall it quite clearly. In our living room, just before my father slapped me so hard across the face that I needed to see a dentist to make sure my teeth were still where they belonged.”

He glances at Inessa, who is looking down at her hands again in shame.

“I feel ashamed of what I used to believe,” she says quietly, barely loud enough for Victor to hear. “I didn’t know better. There was no internet, no media, nothing that could have told me otherwise. It was only when I… when I started learning English that I could learn more. It took me a long time, Vitenka. I admit that. A very long time. I know now that there is nothing… nothing wrong with you. That this is just who you are and that God made you this way.”

She lets out a heavy, shaky sigh, a sigh that Victor feels should be coming from him. Yes, a sigh that would tell her that he is not buying any of this, that someone who did such horrible things could never change.

But that would be a lie.

Victor looks at his mother, looks at her truly, for the first time in many years. She is slim, her clothes are simple but clean, nothing special, but clearly her finest choice for today. She has made an effort about herself, makes an effort even now, coming to another country just to see him, without knowing what or who will await her.

“Your father was drunk when he died,” Inessa says then, all of a sudden. “Choking on something. I didn’t call the ambulance. I told them that I had been outside hanging up the laundry.” She shrugs, and says it all rather lightly, as if none of it mattered anymore – and Victor realises that it really does not matter anymore. His father is dead. Not coming back for either of them.

“I was finally able to breathe again,” she continues, “and I went on the internet to find out what agency you were with. I didn’t think that… I would actually get to speak to your agent. But he was so kind to write down my number and give it to you. I didn’t hope for more.”

She takes another sip from her tea and puts the cup back onto its saucer, very carefully, none of it making a single sound. Like a woman that has learnt to be silent, invisible, not making a sound. Never drawing attention to herself.

Victor’s fingers itch for a cigarette. He hardly ever smokes – and Yuuri hates it – but in some moments, he finds relief in it. But not now.

Instead, he empties his own cup of tea and sets it down as well before leaning back and closing his eyes for a long moment.

If Yuuri were here with him, he would know what to say. He would hold his hand and give him strength by his presence alone. But Yuuri is not here, and Victor is not a child.

He can face his own mother.

“This is my explanation,” Inessa says and he opens his eyes again. “But I owe you an apology, too.”

Victor shifts on his seat, barely noticeably.

“I’m so sorry for the pain that I have caused you. For not protecting you better. For not… not being stronger. For calling you… horrible things.” She clasps her hands as if in prayer and exhales shakily. “I know I do not deserve your forgiveness. But if you have it in your heart to forgive me, Vitenka, then… please do.”

Victor is on his feet before he knows what he is doing.

“Excuse me for a moment,” he murmurs and walks away from the table towards the restrooms.

His heart is beating rapidly in his chest, the rhythm of it so loud that he does not hear the apology of the waiter he almost crashes into on his way out. He cannot feel the cool metal of the doorhandle as he enters the restroom and leans against the wall, just trying to stay sane, just trying to catch his breath.

How does one forgive their mother, after sixteen years of cold silence?

Victor pulls out his phone, ready to call Yuuri, as he pauses for a moment and listens inwardly to see if this is the right thing to do.

Yuuri would be able to help him, of course, with his voice alone. Yes, Yuuri would guide him, offer him solutions, possibilities, and not even judge him if he were to walk out of here right now, without looking his mother in the eye a final time, without officially accepting or rejecting her apology.

What does he even want?

Victor locks his phone again and goes to splash his face with cold water instead. Looking at himself in the mirror, he thinks of his mother’s words. It is true that he does not look like his father at all. He has inherited his hair from his mother and his features from her, too. The nose is like his grandfather’s. His eye colour is his grandmother’s.

None of him seems to come from the man that is now dead and buried and no longer of their concern.

The feeling of relief and liberty for his mother must be immense.

As he walks back to the table, he feels a bit more stable, more secure, and more focused than before. His mother is still there, the cup of tea in her hands, stirring in it absentmindedly. As he sits back down, she looks up, but says nothing.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you right away, or ever,” Victor states, “but I can accept your apology. Which I hereby do.”

Inessa nods immediately and even smiles a little. “Thank you, Vitenka,” she says softly. “I didn’t expect you to forgive me on the spot or… or ever.”

“We’ll see,” Victor murmurs. “I know that I cannot blame you for many things. The rest I still have to think about.”

“Take all the time you need,” Inessa says. “I will not ask for more.”

“Mhm.” Victor pours himself another cup but finds that the tea in the pot has already gone cold. He drinks it either way. “So what do you do now?” He asks his mother. “Now that he’s dead?”

“I am working at a small shop in the neighbourhood,” she says. “The little haberdashery. It is not much, but it pays the rent. Your father did not leave me a lot, but I don’t mind. There is still your grandmother’s house in the country that I might return to eventually. I think it might be better that way. Too many… bad memories in the city.”

“I get that,” Victor murmurs. He has many bad memories there, too.

“And you?” Inessa asks softly. “I have to admit that I became worried about you in the past two years. There were… hardly any news about what you were doing. I could see on this photo app that you were fine, but other than that…”

“You follow me on Instagram?” Victor raises an eyebrow.

Inessa blushes. “The girl working at the haberdashery with me showed me how,” she admits. “There are lots of pictures in which you look happy, but also… you looked sad in the most recent ones that showed you in public.”

The fact that even his mother had noticed shakes Victor to the core.

“Is everything alright with you these days, Victor?” Inessa asks.

“I’m fine,” Victor replies and runs a hand through his hair to hide his distress. “I merely needed to take a break from acting and I focused on other things. I asked myself what I wanted and I looked for answers elsewhere.”

“And did you find them?”

Victor glances at his ring.

“I did,” he murmurs. “I’m getting married.”

Inessa’s eyes widen, but this time in excitement and joy. “Oh, Vitenka, that is wonderful!” She exclaims and clasps her hands in front of her chest. “Who is sh… Who is he? An actor like you?”

Victor shakes his head, ignoring his mother’s small error. Old habits die hard.

“His name is Yuuri,” he says and takes out his phone, opening the gallery to show her a picture. The one showing Yuuri in a close-up, cuddling Makkachin, smiling into the camera.

Inessa leans forward, smiling down at the phone. “Oh, he is so very handsome,” she says. “What does he do?”

“He is currently getting a PhD in English literature,” Victor explains not without pride in his voice. “He is very smart.”

“Oh, he must be,” Inessa agrees. “But kindness is more important.”

“He is the kindest person I know,” Victor says without hesitation.

Inessa looks at him fondly, a look that Victor has not seen in many years. “You must love him very much.”

Victor looks down at his phone, at the picture of Yuuri, and he feels the smile form on his lips.

“I do,” he says softly. “I love him more than my life.”

They leave the hotel sometime in the afternoon, after Victor has discretely paid the bill while his mother had been at the restroom. It is a cold day, but it is at least sunny, warming their faces as they step out onto the street.

“This city is so big,” Inessa says as she zips up her coat. “And so loud, too. How do you manage it?”

“I live in a quiet area,” Victor replies. “Speaking of. Which hotel are you staying at?”

“It is called ‘The City Hotel’,” his mother replies. “Creative, I know. But it is very nice and very clean. I have the room until the end of the week.”

“I see.” Victor checks his watch, already spotting a few people slowing down as they walk, wondering if the man they are seeing is really Victor Nikiforov. He has to be quick. “Let me take you back to your hotel.”

Fortunately, his mother seems to notice the people, too, and gets into the taxi that the hotel provides without another word. The drivers are trustworthy and Victor won’t have to bribe them. He gives the driver the address of his mother’s hotel and off they go, the car becoming one with the sea of traffic that this city is at all times.  

His phone buzzes in his pocket.

YK: I am heading home now. How is the meeting with your mother going?

“Your fiancé?” Inessa asks.

“Yes,” Victor murmurs and sends a quick text back.

VN: I am taking her back to her hotel now. It was a very intense meeting. I’ll tell you more at home.

Yuuri’s reply comes instantly.

YK: Alright. I will make us katsudon for dinner, if that’s alright?

VN: If I ever say no to katsudon you are allowed to get rid of me.

YK: <3

“It is so nice to see you smile.”

“Huh?” Victor looks up, finding his mother watching him.

“You were smiling at your phone,” Inessa says. “That is a nice thing to see.”

Victor clears his throat and puts his phone back into his pocket.

“No need to be shy about it,” Inessa says. “You are in love. That is a beautiful thing.”

Victor clasps his hands on his lap and looks out of the window to watch the city pass by, but he finds that it is not enough of a distraction, that for some reason, his mother’s words make him face her again. By the time he turns his head, she is no longer looking at him, but down at her lap where she has clasped her hands, almost as if in prayer.

“It was very nice to see you today, Vitenka,” she says quietly. “Even if I never see you again after this, I will be happy. Now I know that you are safe and that you are loved. You are not alone.” She looks up again and smiles a little, almost as if in relief. “I am very proud of you.”

Hearing those words from her feels very strange to Victor – not that her judgement of him would matter in any way. After all, all of his achievements have nothing to do with her. She has not been part of it in any way. Her words are the very ones he never expected to hear.

Does he need them?

Victor finds he does not.

But she has spoken them anyway, and he might as well accept them.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

The taxi stops outside the City Hotel – a small, neat place that looks like many others, not too expensive and with continental breakfast, most likely. Nothing special.

“If you want to see me again,” Inessa begins hesitantly, clutching her bag a little tighter, “you can find me here. I’ll be in the city until the end of the week.”

“I have to… I have to think about… all of this first,” Victor says and gestures lightly with his hand. “It’s been a lot.”

“Of course,” Inessa says softly. “Take all the time you need.” She opens the door and gets out of the car, but turns around to him once more. “Good bye, Vitenka.”

“Goodbye, Mama.”

His throat feels strangely constricted.

Inessa shuts the door and the taxi drives off, taking him away from her, away from the past and from what might be part of his future. What remains, for now, is merely the present, and the task he has for now.

Thinking about his mother, about his feelings, will not be easy, and it will not be done in a day or two.

Victor closes his eyes and leans his head against the window of the car, tuning out the world outside.

“Careful with the eggs, Yuuri,” Hiroko says, her face slightly adorned with a frown as she watches her son cook. She is small on the screen of the tablet that is leaning against the ridiculously expensive microwave, but Yuuri can see his mother’s unusual expression anyway. “You don’t want the egg to become like scrambled eggs. Is something the matter?”

Yuuri sighs, trying to focus both on his mother and on cooking, but what usually works so well seems harder today.

“I’m just thinking about Victor and his mother,” he murmurs and glances at the rice cooker to check if it is still going.

“Of course you are,” Hiroko says softly, understanding as always. “I really hope it is going well for them. It must be so hard for both of them. I wonder what she will say to him.”

“Me too,” Yuuri says and pours the egg over the katsudon in the pan. “But I wonder more about what kind of mood he will be in when he comes back. Which should be any minute now.”

“He will be exhausted, most likely,” Hiroko says with a small sigh. “The poor boy. When you come to see us, we must be very kind to him and makes sure he feels at home with us. Your father is already thinking about converting the old banquet room into a room for the two of you.”

“What?” Yuuri frowns at his mother. “But why? What’s wrong with my room?”

“Won’t you be sleeping in the same bed, dear?” Hiroko asks. “Your bedroom is so small, there is no space for a double bed, and you will surely want your privacy. You are engaged, after all! Ah, when I think back, how your father and I used to—”

“I get it, I get it!” Yuuri says quickly and raises both of his hands in defence. “Right, yes. You are right, my room is rather small. But don’t go overboard with the new furniture, please.”

“We’ll find something nice for you!” Hiroko assures him with a happy sigh. “I can’t believe my son is engaged to be married. I keep telling all of my friends about it.”

“Okaa-san!”

“Don’t worry, I am not telling them anything about Victor,” she assures him, “just that he lives in America and earns very well.”

“Good,” Yuuri mutters and turns off the stove, just as he hears the apartment door open. “Oh, he’s home.”

“Then I will hang up now,” Hiroko says. “Let him know I said hello, yes? And that we are so much looking forward to meeting him!”

“I will,” Yuuri says and glances up, spotting Victor by the door, taking off his coat and shoes while he pets Makkachin with one hand. At least the dog is putting a small smile on his face.

“Jaa, mata ne!” His mother hangs up and Yuuri puts the tablet away as Victor comes in and straight into his arms.

“Hey,” Yuuri says softly and hugs him gently, kissing his jawline, as it is the only place he can reach like this. “How did it go?”

Victor lets out a very heavy sigh in his arms and just holds onto him, burying his face in Yuuri’s shoulder.

“It’s been a lot,” he murmurs. “Do you mind if I shower first before we eat?” He pulls back, running his hands down Yuuri’s arms to take his hands.

“Of course not,” Yuuri says. “I can keep it warm until you’re done. Take all the time you need.”

“Thank you,” Victor says and gives him a kiss before he walks away to the bathroom. Makkachin follows him, but stops right in front of the bathroom door, as if wondering if she should really go after him. She seems to decide otherwise and returns to her dog bed by the window, chewing happily on her favourite toy.

Yuuri sighs and puts a lid on the pan on the stove before he goes to sit down on the couch, hoping that the shower will help Victor to calm down. Logically, Yuuri knows that there is very little that he can do, and that this is also not his fault. And yet, it makes him feel incredibly helpless.

Yuuri gets up again, shaking his head. It does not help to sit around and do nothing, and there are, after all, things that he can do. Even if they are small and perhaps meaningless.

And so, he gathers the magazines and books that cover their coffee table and puts them away where Victor can’t see them. Next, he connects his phone to the speakers and chooses Victor’s favourite music, this time a classical composer that Victor likes to listen to when he is stressed and trying to relax. Then, he draws the curtains and shuts out the world outside, and grabs Victor’s favourite and very expensive French wine from the fridge.

By the time Victor comes out of the bathroom in pyjama pants and a t-shirt, Yuuri is scooping rice into two bowls and adding the katsudon on top.

“Sit down,” Yuuri says as he looks over his shoulder and smiles at Victor. “I’ll bring it over in a moment.”

He adds some green spring onion as garnish to the dish before carrying the bowls over to the table. Victor is still standing by his chair, looking down at the glasses of wine.

“Are we celebrating something?” He asks.

Yuuri puts down the bowls and shakes his head. “I just wanted to do something nice for you,” he says and touches Victor’s arm gently. “Let’s eat before it gets cold.”

He pulls Victor’s chair out and then goes to sit on his own, taking his chopsticks. Victor takes a seat and takes his own set of chopsticks, studying the bowl before him for a moment.

“I hope it is good,” Yuuri says, “I mean, it cannot be as good as my mother’s, but I’ve tried my best.”

“I’m sure it is perfect,” Victor says with a small smile and picks up some rice.

“Flatterer,” Yuuri chuckles and begins to eat as well. It is good, in his opinion, but not as good as his mother’s. Victor will see that, too, as soon as they are in Japan.

Not long now, he thinks.

“Are you feeling better?” Yuuri asks. “You looked very tired earlier.”

“I still am,” Victor admits, pushing his food around a little in the bowl. “It was all… very intense.”

Yuuri does not doubt him for a second. He can see the tiredness on his face, sees how Victor’s shoulders are hanging unusually low. The mere fact he is not really looking at him and that his smiles don’t reach his eyes tells Yuuri more than Victor could say with words.

“My father abused her,” Victor says suddenly before Yuuri can come up with an appropriate reply. “I knew that their relationship was not the best, but I did not know that it was that extreme.”

“Oh.”

“Yep.” Victor sighs and stuffs some katsudon into his mouth. At least he is eating.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Yuuri says and hesitantly takes another bite. “Is she okay now?”

“As okay as she can be, based on the circumstances, yeah.” Victor grabs the glass of wine and takes a rather large sip that would appear rather dramatic if the situation was not such a tense and sad one. “She said she tried to run away from him with me when I was still a baby, but that he came after her, and that she had no choice. Can’t say much to that.”

Yuuri puts his chopsticks aside to give Victor his full attention.

“Of course, I asked her about the end of it all,” Victor goes on, this time facing Yuuri properly. “She didn’t deny her homophobia. She said she didn’t know better back then and that she has educated herself ever since.”

“That is good, isn’t it?” Yuuri suggests and takes a sip from his own glass of wine.

“Of course, it is,” Victor sighs and puts down his own chopsticks, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I just don’t know what to do. I… I listened to her and I understand her reasoning and I have accepted her apology but…” He drops his hands onto the surface of the table and shakes his head.

Yuuri gets up from his chair and walks around the table to Victor’s side, putting his arms around his neck and kissing his hair.

“No need to find an answer now,” Yuuri murmurs and runs his hands soothingly through Victor’s hair that is slightly curly from the shower he took. “You are exhausted, especially mentally. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“But I want to,” Victor says rather vehemently and looks up. “I mean, I…” He swallows. “I think I need to talk about it. Otherwise I’ll burst.”

“Okay,” Yuuri says and pushes the bowl towards Victor. “But we eat first, okay? You need something proper in your stomach.”

“So do you,” Victor says and glances at Yuuri’s bowl. “You haven’t eaten much yet.”

“Well observed.” Yuuri presses another kiss to his head and then sits down again, closer to Victor this time. Seeing him eat is a relief in itself, and Yuuri is sure that with a full stomach, Victor will be able to come to more coherent thoughts for his own good.

“This is perfect,” Victor murmurs after a while, his bowl halfway eaten. “The best one you have ever cooked.”

“Wait till you taste my mother’s katsudon,” Yuuri smiles, but blushes into his glass of wine. “Speaking of, she says hi. They are converting the old banquet room into a bedroom for us, she told me.”

“What about your childhood bedroom?”

“It’s too small,” Yuuri explains and sets down his glass, the wine making him feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. “They are very excited to meet you.”

Victor smiles softly at him, a smile that is still tired, but actually reaching his eyes. “I am excited to meet them, too.”

After dinner, Yuuri sends Victor to the living room and goes to do the dishes, knowing very well that in his current state, Victor would probably drop the bowls and break them. He hurries, putting the bowls in the dishwasher although he prefers to do them by hand since they are of very high quality, and scrubs the pan quicker than usual to get back to Victor without any further delay. He finds him on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through Instagram, the music still playing in the background.

Yuuri joins him on the couch and climbs into Victor’s lap, taking the phone out of his hand and putting his arms around his neck. “Tell me what I can do to make you feel better,” he says and kisses Victor’s forehead. “Do you want to watch a film? Do you want me to read something to you? Do you want to have sex?”

Victor sighs softly and wraps his arms around Yuuri’s waist. “All of this sounds very alluring,” he says quietly, “but I think I just want to go to sleep.”

“Okay.” Yuuri brushes a strand of hair out of Victor’s face. “That’s a good idea. Your classes start early tomorrow, right?”

“What?” Victor blinks. “Oh, right. Classes. I… I kind of forgot about that.”

“That’s why you have me,” Yuuri chuckles and gets off him, holding out his hand. “Come, let us go to bed.”

Victor takes his hand and gets up, but does not follow Yuuri right away.

“Thank you, Yuuri,” he says softly. “I know I’m quite useless today.”

Yuuri shakes his head. “You could never be useless.”

Yuuri’s office on campus is small and cramped, but it is his, and he loves every corner of it. There are many plants sitting on the window sill that he takes care of, at least half of them gifts from Victor, and an ever-present reminder that their relationship and their love began in this very room. One year ago, with Victor as a new student, lost in the module handbook, needing advice and guidance.

It is fascinating how fast things can change.

Victor no longer needs his help in terms of academia, but he comes to Yuuri’s office repeatedly either way. He will bring him coffee or a snack from the cafeteria, and they will sit on the small sofa in the corner and just chat. It never gets steamy in here between them – they keep it to themselves, still. However, it has become more and more difficult to hide the ring on his finger from his colleagues – so much that Yuuri has eventually given up and given in to the many questions. That had led to his colleagues throwing a mini party for him, and now there are a bottle of champagne and a flower bouquet sitting on his desk.

Obviously, Yuuri has kept his fiancé’s identity a secret.

Said fiancé now walks into his office after briefly knocking. “Do you have a moment?”

“Of course,” Yuuri says and looks up from his computer. “What’s up?”

Victor closes the door and sits down on the chair opposite to Yuuri, looking at the bottle of Champagne and at the flowers. “What’s all this?”

Yuuri chuckles and raises his hands, wiggling his fingers. “They found out that I’m engaged,” he says. “Don’t worry, I didn’t tell them whom to.”

“It is up to you, really,” Victor says. “If you want to tell them that you’re engaged to me, that’s fine.”

“We’re not serving ourselves to the paparazzi on a silver platter,” Yuuri says with determination. “Anyway, they wanted to celebrate a little, so that’s why there’s all… this.” He sighs. He does not even like champagne. Or attention. “Anyway, what’s up?”

Victor shifts on the chair. “I’ve been thinking,” he says, and judging by the tone of his voice, it is something he has been thinking about for quite some time now, “and I still don’t know what to do about my mother.”

Yuuri nods. After a night of sleep, Victor had completely opened up to him about meeting his mother again, had told him everything about their conversation, and about his feelings. They had spoken about various ways of dealing with it, but ultimately, it was all up to Victor what he wished to do.

But that was, of course, easier said than done.

“So I’ve been wondering,” Victor continues and touches his ring, “if you… if you would want to meet her. Maybe then I can come to a decision about how to proceed from here. There is no one that I trust more.”

Yuuri feels himself blush, but is no longer as embarrassing to do it in front of Victor as it used to be.

“Of course,” he says and gets up to walk around the desk to Victor. Thankfully, the door is closed as he wraps his arms around Victor’s neck and kisses him on the lips. “I’d do anything to help you, Vitya,” he says and pulls the beanie off Victor’s head to run his fingers through his hair. It is a gesture that Victor likes, one that always soothes him. “What kind of meeting did you think of? Dinner at a restaurant?”

“At first, yes,” Victor says, “but it is almost impossible to pull that off without having photographers after us within an hour, and I really don’t want to put you through that.” He gives Yuuri’s hip a gentle squeeze. “And this is a private matter. So if you don’t mind… maybe she could come to my—I mean, to our place.” He sighs in frustration. “Maybe when I see her interact with you, I can understand what I want. I’ve never felt more confused, Yuuri.”

“I cannot even imagine what it is like,” Yuuri admits, “but I will to everything I can to help you out. So, dinner at our place it is. But if she is leaving by the end of the week, that only leaves tonight.”

“Is it too short a notice for you?”

“Not at all,” Yuuri assures him. “I’ll go shopping after work. Tell her to be there at seven and we’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” Victor pulls Yuuri down onto his lap and wraps his arms around his waist with a deep sigh. “What did I do to deserve you, Yuuri?”

“You certainly did a few things right,” Yuuri smiles and kisses him tenderly on the lips. Victor returns it in an instant, his lips parting almost in obedience under Yuuri’s command, a soft moan escaping both of them and reminding them that it has been in fact far too long since they have last spent a lazy Sunday in bed, indulging the other without regrets.

“We’re in my office, Victor,” Yuuri breathes against his fiancé’s lips and pulls away just as the kiss becomes too heated to pull away from. “And this door isn’t locked.”

“God, I wish it were,” Victor murmurs and steals a final kiss from Yuuri’s lips before his fiancé can slide off his lap and smooth out his clothing.

“Your glasses,” Yuuri murmurs and reaches out to make sure they sit properly on Victor’s face, then hands him his beanie. “Don’t you have a lecture in….”  He glances at the clock on the wall. “Five minutes ago?”

“What?” Victor immediately puts on the beanie and stands, grabbing his bag. “Right, shit, I forgot. I better dash.”

Yuuri playfully rolls his eyes at him and returns to his desk, sitting down and grabbing a stack of forms. “Oh, Victor?”

The other man stops just as he is about the door, turning around again. “Yeah?”

Yuuri picks up his pen and gives Victor a long, thorough look. “Wreck me this weekend, will you.”

Victor’s eyes widen in an instant, and he even swallows heavily.

Does he really have such power, such influence over him?

And then, Victor’s eyes turn dark with want.

“Of course, my love,” he whispers before he leaves, and the door falls shut quietly.

Yuuri sighs, making a mental note to look forward to the weekend, and continues with his work.

It has something very ridiculous, but also something very adorable, to watch Victor kneeling before Makkachin and talking sense into her as if she were a disobedient child. Yuuri tries not to laugh out loud as he regards the two of them, Victor even holding his dog’s paw as he looks her in the eye and tells her in a very stern voice what kind of behaviour he expects from her.

“My mother is coming for dinner and I don’t want you to jump on her, do you understand? She doesn’t do too well with big dogs, so don’t run over and demand cuddles right away, okay? If I tell you to sit, you will sit, is that understood?”

Makkachin looks at him the way she always does, with absolutely no clue what Victor is talking about, her tongue lolling out almost comically.

“I mean it,” Victor says and squishes Makkachin’s cheeks. “I don’t want to put you on a leash in our very own home.”

“Victor, we both know she’ll run to greet your mother anyway,” Yuuri reminds him and pours away the water of the pasta. “I’ll hold her by the collar when your mother arrives and then your mother can meet her on her own terms, and Makkachin will get her cuddles and be happy enough to spend the rest of the evening in her dog bed.”

Victor sighs. “That’s probably the most sensible idea,” he agrees and gets up, but not without giving Makkachin another stern look. For a moment, he just stands there by the kitchen island, hands on his hips, letting his eyes wander, as if to check if everything is perfect. Yuuri knows his fiancé’s calmness is just a façade. In fact, he has been antsy and nervous ever since he came home, and not even a shower had helped to calm him down properly.

“It will be fine, Victor,” Yuuri tells him and pushes the bowl with the salad into his hands. “Put that on the table.”

Victor does as he is told.

“But what if—”

“No buts,” Yuuri says softly and leans over to quickly kiss his cheek. “If she behaves terribly, we’ll ask her to leave. If not, this might be the start of a new sort of relationship. For anything in between, we will find a suitable solution. You’re not alone.”

“I know,” Victor says and pulls Yuuri into his arms for a moment, kissing the top of his head. “I don’t deserve you. I never will.”

“Let that be my concern,” Yuuri murmurs and hugs him, just as the doorbell rings.

Makkachin barks and jumps up, and Yuuri frees himself from Victor’s embrace just in time to grab Makkachin by her collar.

“You didn’t even listen to me, Makka!” Victor scolds her with a sigh and smooths out his shirt before going to open the door.

Yuuri busies himself with Makkachin, keeping her collar firmly in his grip as she tries to run to their new guest that Victor is now talking to.

“Thank you for sending the taxi, Vitenka, I don’t think I would have found this building.”

“No problem. I need to take precautions anyway.”

“Oh, yes, right. It would not be good if photographers found this place…”

It feels strange to only hear the voice of the woman but not see her yet at this point. At least, Yuuri thinks, they are speaking normally to each other, even though the conversation lacks the easy flow of a talk between a mother and her son.

“This way,” he hears Victor say, followed by footsteps making their way from the hallway to the living area and the kitchen. “Don’t worry, Makkachin won’t run to you.”

A moment later, Yuuri watches Victor enter with a woman by his side. She is shorter than both of them, slim, with fair hair that has begun to turn grey, and with eyes that resemble Victor’s. She looks nervous, and Yuuri cannot tell if it is because of the situation or because of Makkachin. Probably both.

“Oh, it is alright,” she says to Victor. “Mrs. Kovarikova has a dog, too, and she is quite lovely.”

Makkachin barks happily and wags her tail, but much to everyone’s surprise, she remains seated by Yuuri’s side. Inessa is now looking at Yuuri, giving him a smile that he can tell is shy but honest.

“This is my fiancé, Yuuri,” Victor says.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Nikiforova,” Yuuri says and reaches out to shake her hand.

“Call me Inessa, please,” she says and shakes his hand in return. “It is so nice to meet you. Vitenka has already told me so much about you.”

“Only good things,” Victor remarks from beside her, and Inessa crouches down before Makkachin to give her a scratch behind the ear.

“And you I know from the Instagram app,” she chuckles. “She is lovely.”

“I am surprised that she hasn’t been jumping on you,” Yuuri says and carefully lets go of Makkachin’s collar. “But yes, she is an Instagram star herself. I think half of Victor’s fans follow him for Makkachin content only.”

“I won’t argue with that,” Victor says as he watches his mother pet his dog, the scene oddly domestic, even to Yuuri. And Yuuri can see how strange it is to Victor, how he is not quite sure how to handle the situation.

“Dinner is almost ready,” Yuuri says as Inessa rises again. “Why don’t you sit down?”

“Do you need any help?” Inessa asks.

“Oh, no, you are our guest,” Yuuri assures her. “Maybe keep Makkachin away from the stove, though.”

“I’ll take her,” Victor says and grabs Makkachin by her collar as he takes Inessa to the table. Yuuri can hear them talk in Russian after some time, and he can imagine that it must be easier for the two of them to converse in their native language while they can. He does not mind. Some conversations are not meant for him to hear, and that is okay.

By the time he arranges their plates and carries them to the table, he finds Victor and his mother standing by the large bookshelf on which Victor keeps several photographs. Inessa is looking at one of them, probably the one showing Victor arm in arm with Mila on the night they won their first award together. It is also one of Yuuri’s favourite, as the smile on Victor’s face is a genuine one in that particular photograph.

“Dinner is ready,” Yuuri calls softly. “Makka, come, I’ll fill your bowl.”

Makkachin immediately bounces over at the word ‘bowl’, and while Yuuri busies himself with the dog, Victor takes his mother to the dining table.

“Oh, this looks so good,” Inessa says as they sit down. “Do you cook a lot?” She asks Yuuri as he takes a seat opposite to her.

“I do,” Yuuri replies and pushes the bowl with salad towards her. “Please, help yourself.”

“Yuuri does most of the cooking, to be honest,” Victor says. “He is a better cook than I.”

“That’s not true,” Yuuri says with a frown and shakes his head at his fiancé before looking at Inessa gain. “He sometimes cooks Russian food for me, following the recipes of his grandmother. They are very good.”

At that, Inessa looks rather proudly at her son, even though her smile remains hesitant and rather shy, as if she were not sure to what extent she is allowed to react.

“It is not as good as babushka’s,” Victor says. “I didn’t get to eat good Russian food a lot here.”

The ‘wonder why’ is heavily implied in Victor’s tone of voice, and Yuuri gives him a long, good look. No, neither of them are in the mood for an argument, and Yuuri can tell that Victor is only behaving this way because he does not know what else to do. After all, he still does not understand his feelings towards his own mother, and who could blame him, truly?

Fortunately, Inessa does not comment on it. Instead, she takes a sip from the water and addresses Yuuri again. “Vitenka told me that you do a doctoral degree at the university. What is it about?”

“Oscar Wilde,” Yuuri replies, “I don’t know if you—”

But Inessa’s eyes shine and she nods. “Yes, I know him. I like The Picture of Dorian Gray, and the film, too.” She looks at her son approvingly.

“The film is great, yes,” Yuuri agrees. “I have watched it many times. I honestly can’t believe that I never noticed that Victor was in it, and in such a big role, even. It was so embarrassing. I didn’t even know who he was when we started dating.”

“No?” Inessa raises an eyebrow. “That is interesting. But that is good, is it not?” She exchanges a look with Victor. “I have heard how difficult it is to find friends and partners when you are well-known. I am glad that it was so easy for you.”

“I wouldn’t call it easy,” Victor says and gives Yuuri a gentle smile. “I had to woo Yuuri properly either way. I’m just glad I managed to impress him enough.”

“He took me out for dinner and to a play, too,” Yuuri explains to Inessa as he reaches out to take Victor’s hand. “It did not take me long to fall for him. He makes me so happy. And I’m even happier now that I will marry him.”

The blush on Victor’s face is proof enough of the effect that his words have on him, and so is Victor’s act of bringing Yuuri’s hand to his lips to kiss his ring. “I am happy, too,” he says softly and gives Yuuri’s hand a gentle squeeze, the way he looks at him making Yuuri’s heart flutter.

“Victor, not in front of your mother,” Yuuri chuckles but squeezes his hand in return before they let go of each other again. But Inessa looks unfazed, the small smile still on her lips as she watches them.

“I’m glad to see you so happy,” she says. “Do you already know when you want to get married?”

The rest of the dinner goes by without any trouble, the conversation polite and civil, and Yuuri can see that Victor manages to relax a little more in his mother’s presence. He sends them to the living room once they have eaten, taking the dishes to the kitchen, listening to them chatting in Russian in the background.

Sometimes, Yuuri wonders if he should start learning Russian. After all, Victor is making an effort to learn Japanese in order to be able to speak to his family and friends, and he is actually becoming quite competent at it on a basic level. Perhaps it is time to return the favour.

When Yuuri joins them again, Inessa is sitting in the armchair by the window in which Victor likes to sit and read, flipping through the pages of the photo album that Yuuri has studied before as well. It is a collection of photographs of Victor and his friends, documenting his life in America ever since he left Russia. There are lots of pictures with Mila and Chris, also a few with the two men he dated before Yuuri, William and John. Yuuri has never asked Victor to remove the pictures, but he notices now that some of them are missing – those that have shown them in an embrace, or kissing. Victor must have removed them on his own accord.

The last few pages are pictures of Yuuri and Victor together, including the pictures they have taken over the Christmas break. The last one is their ‘official’ engagement photo, taken by Sara in the living room of Chris’ cabin. Yuuri in Victor’s arms, the hand with the ring resting on Victor’s chest, both of them looking at each other.

Yuuri has always found this particular picture rather embarrassing. His cheeks are too red, his eyes too big, to match Victor’s physical perfection.

But Inessa is smiling down at it, and her smile widens even more as she looks up at Yuuri.

“Such a nice photo,” she says and touches it with her fingertips. “You look so happy.”

“Thank you,” Yuuri says and sits down on the sofa beside Victor, immediately interlacing their fingers out of sheer instinct. “I had no idea he was going to propose.”

“I carried the ring with me everywhere waiting for the right moment,” Victor admits, and Yuuri stares at him.

“What? Really?”

“Yes.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Yuuri groans and rolls his eyes, but cannot help but blush at what this implies. That Victor had been planning to propose to him for quite some time, always looking for the perfect moment.

“He has always been like that,” Inessa laughs and closes the photo album again. “Planning ahead. He always knew what he wanted in life. I am glad he found it now.”

“Well, I—”

But before Victor can say more, Makkachin comes over to them to drop her leash in Victor’s lap before she sits down and looks up at him expectantly.

“Someone needs to go outside for a moment, I think,” Victor says and picks up the leash.

“Do you want me to go with her?” Yuuri asks, ready to get up, but Victor shakes his head and makes a dismissive gesture with his hand.

“You’ve been doing the cooking already. I’ll just take her down the road to her favourite tree and back,” he says and puts Makkachin on her leash. “I’ll be right back.”

He presses a quick kiss to Yuuri’s cheek before he heads out, leaving Yuuri and his mother alone in the living room. Of course, Yuuri knows why Victor has gone out with Makkachin. He wants to give him the opportunity to get an opinion of Inessa without him watching, to give them the chance to have a conversation without him present.

Yuuri is not very good with people he does not know.

Meeting his future mother-in-law was something he also imagined to be very different.

But here they are, soft music playing in the background, and a photo album documenting Victor’s life after cutting ties with his family rests on Inessa’s lap.

Phichit would know how to behave in such a situation, Yuuri thinks. He would know the right moment to make a joke.

Yuuri has never been good at joking.

“Would you like some tea?” He asks Inessa instead. “My mother sent me some from Japan.”

Inessa smiles. “That would be lovely,” she says and Yuuri gets up to put the kettle on and find the tea in one of the drawers.

He sighs, getting three cups from the cupboard and leaning against the counter.

What does one say to the mother of one’s fiancé in such a situation, really?

“Vitenka has had a good life here, yes?”

Inessa’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts. She has come to the kitchen, the photo album in her hands, opening it again right at the front.

Yuuri moves away from the counter and joins her by the kitchen island to look at the photos. One of the first is Victor with Yakov, younger but looking angry nonetheless. In his hands, Victor holds what seems to be a contract, smiling happily into the camera.

“This is the man I talked to on the phone, yes?” Inessa asks.

“Yes, that is Yakov,” Yuuri confirms.

“An angry man,” Inessa remarks. “But he is good to Vitenka. I know it.”

“They are very good friends,” Yuuri says. “Victor told me that he sees Yakov like a father.”

The words are out before Yuuri knows what he is saying, but Inessa does not seem to mind.

“A chosen family,” she says and moves on to the next pictures, lots of them including Mila and Chris. “That is the word that many gay and lesbian people use, yes?”

“Yes, it is,” Yuuri confirms, watching her attentively now. He knows little about Inessa’s opinion of the LGBTQ+ community, only what Victor has told him.

“A nice thought,” Inessa says softly as she turns the pages. “Choosing your own family. A privilege, I think. Do you… do you speak to your family?”

She looks up, almost like a shy deer, as if she were not sure if she was allowed.

Yuuri nods. “I do. My family never had any issue with me being gay.”

Inessa nods and looks down at the photos again, her fingertips tracing Victor’s face in one that shows him together with Chris, standing arm in arm on a balcony in what must be Italy, judging by the scenery in the background.

“I did not know much about gay people for a long time,” she explains. “The church told me it was wrong. My husband said it was wrong. I knew that Vitenka was not like other boys, and when I found him with another boy, I was… I was scared for him. I asked him if he wanted to change. If he could at least try.” She sighs and clasps her hands on top of the page. “That was very wrong.”

“It was, yes,” Yuuri says. “But you know better now.”

“Yes,” Inessa says and nods vehemently. “But I hurt my son. Very much. I lost him for many years.”

The kettle then announces it is ready, and Yuuri begins to prepare their tea. “You have another chance now,” he says as he pours the hot water into the cups. “Victor might be confused and not sure about everything, but… I think the fact that he wanted to see you again is a good sign.”

He sets the kettle aside and takes their mugs, carrying them over to the coffee table. Inessa follows him, sitting down beside him on the couch with the photo album on her lap.

“Look,” Yuuri begins, thinking it best to just say it. “I don’t know what Victor is thinking or what he wants. He came to me and asked me if I would, well, talk to you as well, to see what I think. Of course, I cannot and will not decide anything for Victor. What he wants to do is his choice alone. But I know that he will not be able to handle it if he is ever rejected by you again. This is probably your last chance with him. If you ruin it, you will most likely never see or hear from him again.”

Yuuri can almost see the cold shiver running down Inessa’s spine, the impact of his words apparently deeper than he has thought, and shaking her immensely.

It shouldn’t be like this in the first place, Yuuri thinks. A mother and her son should never become estranged, should never be parted for as long as Victor and Inessa have been, solely based on things that cannot be changed either way. And although it is not the first time Yuuri encounters this kind of estrangement, and has many friends who do not speak to their parents anymore because they cannot accept that their child is queer, it hits differently now. It concerns Victor, his fiancé. And the woman before him is his future mother-in-law, the very person that has hurt Victor so very deeply.

It would be an easy thing to hate her.

But Yuuri can see, can feel that Victor does not have it in himself to hate his mother, no matter how hard he tries. Yuuri has seen the sadness in his eyes, has heard him cry over it, even though Victor pretends to be strong.

A very fragile bridge has begun to form in the previous days, and Yuuri wonders if they will, with time, dare to cross it as mother and son.

“I know,” Inessa says quietly and sets the photo album down on the coffee table with great care as if it were the most precious object she has ever held. Perhaps it is, as it is documenting her son’s life that she has not been a part of. “I don’t want to ruin it again. I don’t want to lose my son again. I want to try to do better.” She takes a deep breath and shakes her head, only to herself. “No, I will do better. I will not just try.”

“I know,” Yuuri says. “I can see that. Victor sees it, too. But you have to give him time to come to terms with it. Rebuilding your relationship won’t be easy and might take a long time. Just be patient with him and he’ll let you into his life gladly.”

“I hope you are right,” Inessa says with a small smile and picks up the mug from the table, holding it safely between her hands. “I will be happy with whatever he is willing to give. It is not up to me to make demands, I know that.”

Yuuri picks up his own mug and takes a sip, leaning back against the couch. In the end, it will be Victor’s decision to make, to decide whether he wants to have his mother in his life again or not, and to what extent. But for Yuuri, it seems that Inessa’s efforts are genuine. As far as he can tell, that is.

“I would be very happy for him if you could rebuild your relationship,” Yuuri says then. “But should you hurt him again, I will always take his side, no questions asked.”

It feels strange to be so forward, to speak in such clear terms with her, but it is necessary. Victor needs to know that he is supported, and Inessa needs to know where he stands.

She gives a small nod to his declaration.

“He is very lucky to have you,” she says. “And I’m happy that he is in such good hands.”

The sound of keys unlocking the door breaks the moment, and a few seconds later, a very happy and satisfied Makkachin comes around the corner and settles in her dog bed. Yuuri and Inessa turn their heads as Victor comes in, his hair slightly damp.

“Is it raining?” Yuuri asks and looks at the window behind them.

“A bit,” Victor says and takes the cup of tea that is waiting for him before sitting down beside Yuuri, pressing a kiss to his cheek in greeting. “What have you been talking about?”

“Just this and that,” Yuuri says and exchanges a look with Inessa. “We’ve been talking about my parents and that they were accepting of me. And that they will absolutely adore you. My mother even picked out furniture for the old banquet room they are converting into a bedroom,” he tells Inessa. “They run an inn.”

“That sounds nice,” Inessa says. “When are you going?”

“In mid-March,” Victor says, “right after I’ve submitted my paper.”

“Which you should get done soon,” Yuuri reminds him. “We’ll stay there for about a month and get back just in time for the new semester.”

The rest of the night goes like this, speaking about things that go nowhere the pain and hurt that Victor has suffered on behalf of his parents, and by the time the evening comes to an end, Yuuri feels that it has been pleasant overall. Whenever he looks at Victor, he sees that he is less tense as before, and that in itself is a great achievement.

Once again, Victor pays for the taxi that will bring Inessa back to her hotel, and as they take her to the door, Yuuri is sure he has not seen her for the last time.

“It was so nice to meet you, Yuuri,” she says and shakes his hand warmly. “Thank you for taking care of Vitenka.”

“I’ll do my best,” Yuuri promises and steps back, staying silent as Victor and his mother exchange a few more words in Russian. Whatever she is saying, it causes Victor to hesitate, but he nods, and after the door falls shut behind his mother, he lets out a very heavy sigh.

Yuuri wraps an arm around his fiancé’s waist. “That went surprisingly well,” he says. “I’m proud of you.”

Victor gives him a small, tired smile. “I’m surprised myself,” he admits and pulls Yuuri into a proper embrace. Yuuri lets out a happy sigh, burying his face in Victor’s chest, feeling his warmth, listening to his heartbeat.

“What did you talk about just now?”

Victor’s lips touch his hair.

“She gave me the departure time of her flight tomorrow. I’ll see her off.”

Yuuri pulls back a little to look up at him in surprise.

“What?” Victor asks with a frown.

“Nothing,” Yuuri says, “I’m just… glad that you feel better about her now.”

“I honestly don’t know how I’m feeling about her still,” Victor replies and chews on his bottom lip, the very fact clearly not pleasing him. “But you are right. The evening didn’t go so bad.”

“That’s all that matters,” Yuuri says and kisses him gently. “When is her flight leaving tomorrow?”

“At 8am.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

Yuuri gets to sleep in a little as Victor takes his mother to the airport, granting him a quiet morning and only Makkachin as company.

There are worse mornings than that, Yuuri finds. He can drink his tea in peace and eat his cereal, and watch an episode of his favourite British tv show without having Victor ask him what it is about all the time. Or to point out every five seconds: “Oh, I know them! I’ve worked with them!”

Yuuri does not mind that Victor is an actor, but sometimes, it can get a little annoying.

This morning, however, feels different. Yuuri knows it from the moment he feels Victor kiss his forehead before leaving the house, and now that he’s sitting on the couch and waiting for him to come back from the airport, Yuuri knows that something has drastically changed. Not only has he gotten a glimpse into Victor’s past by meeting his mother, but he also has a better understanding of Victor now. He has seen Victor’s pain, his despair, his search for stability and reconciliation.

What Victor makes of it is entirely up to him, but Yuuri is grateful to have witnessed it.

Victor does not have any classes today, but Yuuri needs to get back to the office. Just around eight, as Yuuri is about to head out, Victor comes home and drops his keys into the bowl by the door.

“Morning,” Yuuri says and puts on his coat before kissing him. “How did it go?”

Victor is silent for a moment and Yuuri begins to expect the worst.

“I let her hug me,” Victor says then, and he does not seem upset about it. “We’ll stay in touch.”

Yuuri smiles. “Good.”

“I hope I’m making the right decision,” Victor murmurs as he takes off his shoes. “I also upgraded her to first class. Her back hurt, and she’d be in horrible pain by the time they land in St. Petersburg. I mean, she’s my mother…” The last part he adds rather quietly, and Yuuri knows it is best not to comment on it further.

“Go back to bed,” he suggests and touches Victor’s arm. “I’ll be home around four.” He kisses him again, properly this time, and lets his hand linger a little longer on Victor’s cheek. “I love you.”

Victor looks as if he is about to break apart.

It is a fascinating thing how a man like him, tall and strong and confident, can be reduced to a mess by words only. Those three little words, in all their simplicity, have the greatest impact on him – so much that Yuuri wonders for a moment if he should stay home, just to make sure Victor is alright, and not alone.

But Victor’s face changes again, and he turns his head just enough to kiss Yuuri’s palm. “Love you, too. My fiancé.”

Yuuri giggles.

Neither of them really notices how fast time flies by.

The snow of winter is gone entirely in mid-February, just as the winter term comes to a close. It is a time that means a lot of work for both of them, Victor working on his paper and Yuuri helping students that are terrified of bombing their exams. There is his PhD work on top of that, and by the time Victor has handed in his paper and Yuuri has finished up everything at work, it is high time for their holiday.

They both desperately need it.

Despite his best efforts, Yuuri has not been able to stop Victor to book them first class seats. “There is no way we’ll sit Economy for such a long flight,” Victor had declared while holding his laptop high and out of reach for Yuuri, who had been trying to stop him from spending so much money on them. In the end, Victor had won, and he had even managed to arrange that Makkachin would be able to come with them without having to suffer in quarantine – “I know someone,” Victor had said, and Yuuri had thought it best to not ask questions.

Yuuri has to admit, though, that it has its perks to fly first class. They are permitted to spend their waiting time at the airport at an exclusive lounge where they are treated to a light meal, with an excellent view of the runway. As it is time to board, they are permitted to get on first, and Victor moves so swiftly through the crowd that the other people have no time to wonder whether it is really Victor Nikiforov™ or not. He holds Yuuri’s hand securely in his, leaving no doubt about their relationship, and the stewards and stewardesses, doubtlessly recognising the superstar, treat Yuuri accordingly – like a fucking prince.

“This is ridiculous,” Yuuri murmurs as they have settled into their huge seats and receive a glass of champagne each to welcome them on board.

“It is much more comfortable than travelling Economy,” Victor replies and fastens his belt. “And besides, we would be photographed immediately. For the whole trip. And I’m really not in the mood for that.”

Yuuri has to admit he has a point. The people that fly first class with them look like business people, and the occasional rich kid. One of them, he notices, is looking at them curiously. Yuuri stares back, and that also gains Victor’s attention.

“Ah,” Victor sighs under his breath and gives the young woman watching them a brief smile. “I didn’t think I would see you here, Miss Holland.”

The girl blinks and then blushes, apparently embarrassed and delighted at once that he has recognised her. “Oh, I’m going to a fashion event in Tokyo,” she says and rests her chin on her palm. “And you?”

“Vacation,” Victor replies. “I can trust you that none of this here ends up on Instagram?”

She chuckles and crosses her legs, as if to hide her phone. “Of course not,” she assures him, her gaze flickering over to Yuuri for a moment. “I hope you will enjoy your vacation.”

“Thanks, you too,” Victor says, just as the stewardess asks for their attention.

Flying first class is an overall very pleasant experience, Yuuri has to admit that. Nonetheless, he is floored as, after dinner, the stewardess tells them with a smile that she would now be ready to convert their seats into beds. Yuuri stands there and tries not to stare too openly as she converts their seats and arranges them into beds for them to sleep in.

A luxury that no one in Economy gets to experience.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Victor beams and grabs his toiletry bag as well as the pyjama that the airline offers them. “I’ll go first, if you don’t mind?”

Yuuri does not mind, and sits down on his seat turned bed while Victor changes and gets ready for the night. The other guests are doing the same, including the young woman Victor has talked to earlier. She is now scrolling through her phone, then lifting it up to take a selfie. Her camera catches sight of Yuuri, and she turns around to him.

“So just who are you?” She asks with a smile that she probably thinks is friendly but is anything but that. “There was absolutely nothing about Victor in the press, not even proper gossip, and now he turns up on a plane to Tokyo with you! And I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before. Wait!” She raises her hand, snapping her fingers almost aggressively in an attempt to keep the attention on herself and stop him from interrupting her, not that Yuuri had been planning to do so. “Are you the stripper from Cara Delevingne’s birthday party? From ‘Asian Boys On Fire?’”

“N-No?” Yuuri says with a frown, wondering if she thinks that just because he’s an Asian man.

“Ah, too bad!” The young woman sighs and leans back on her seat. “Victor was fascinated by those. But I mean, he wouldn’t be the first to have an Asian boy toy.”

Yuuri has been raised too well to make a scene, but he is sure he has never been insulted in such a way before.

“You’re cute though,” the woman chuckles. “I can see why.”

Just then, Victor comes walking back to their seats, in the silk pyjama of the airline and his face glowing from his skincare routine. “Your turn,” he says to Yuuri and presses a kiss to his cheek.

“Victor,” Yuuri says very quietly, only for them to hear. “This woman you know called me your Asian boy toy.”

Victor’s hand freezes just as it is about to run through Yuuri’s hair in affection. “She did what?”

“You heard me,” Yuuri says and grabs his own toiletry bag, glancing briefly at the woman who is already scrolling through her phone again. “I don’t know if this is the way people in your circles talk about Asian men but—”

“I’ll take care of it.”

Victor rises so swiftly from his seat that he almost knocks Yuuri over, and he crosses the distance between himself and the young woman within the blink of an eye. But instead of making a scene, like Yuuri expected, he merely grabs her phone and tosses it on the empty seat beside her, and tells her in very controlled, very plain, and very direct words what he is thinking. Interestingly, he does so in Russian, so Yuuri assumes the woman understands whatever it is he is saying – her eyes are wide in surprise and shock, and she is nodding vehemently to show she gets it.

“Spasiba,” Victor says dryly and returns to their seats, flopping down on his side.

“What did you say to her?” Yuuri asks quietly, glancing at her again, watching as she picks up her phone and moves to the empty seat, further away from them, clearly embarrassed.

“That I’ll tell her father some interesting details about her ‘study abroad’ in the US if she ever addresses you or talks about you like that ever again,” Victor says, and Yuuri can see that he is very angry. “Yuuri, I swear this woman is not a friend of mine. Or people like her in general. Racist shitheads, that is.”

“I know,” Yuuri assures him and touches his arm to calm him down a bit. “I didn’t… think you’d go off like that.”

Victor gives him a look of bewilderment. “She insulted you,” he says, “and she was racist towards you. How could I not cut her down to size?”

He says it with such firmness and determination that there is no doubt that he does not regret it at all.

Yuuri sighs softly. “It’s… kind of what I’m used to,” he murmurs and toys with the toiletry bag on his lap. “People saying racist shit to me. I’ve never been called a ‘boy toy’ before because of it, though. It’s just disgusting.”

“It is,” Victor agrees and glances at the woman one more time before linking his fingers with Yuuri’s. “I’m so sorry this happens to you. I wish I could stop it.”

Yuuri shrugs and squeezes Victor’s hand. “It’s not your fault. Thank you for standing up for me.”

“Always,” Victor says and kisses his temple. “Go brush your teeth and then we’ll go to sleep, hm?”

“Sounds great,” Yuuri hums and pecks Victor’s lips briefly before getting up and heading to the bathroom (which is bigger and more luxurious than any other restroom on this plane). He brushes his teeth and washes his face, then changes into the pyjama provided and takes a moment to look at himself in the mirror.

He is not mentally unstable enough to tell himself that he is too ugly to be anything than a boy toy to Victor. No, he is well past that, has worked many years in therapy to become the man he is now, and that includes being confident and knowing his worth. He deserves to be with Victor – hell, they are engaged to be married, and they are going to be happy together, thank you very much.

What is the opinion of a stupid woman to him?

Yuuri returns to their seats turned beds and slips under the covers beside Victor, who is wearing his glasses now and scrolling through his phone. He shuffles close to him and rests his head on Victor’s shoulder, earning a kiss to the top of his head in return.

“I thought you wanted to sleep,” Yuuri says quietly, not wanting to disturb the other passengers.

“In a moment,” Victor says and pulls up an Instagram post by Chris, which shows a young man with black hair from behind, standing on the balcony of Chris’ apartment.

christophe-gc what a view #boyfriends #justlookathim #blessed

“They made it official,” Yuuri whispers and smiles, feeling nothing but happiness for his best friend. Phichit is not tagged in the post, a sign that they’re keeping their privacy – or rather, Phichit’s – for now, but that is not what it takes to make a relationship official, after all.

“I thought you’d want to see this before sleeping,” Victor says and taps the heart button below the picture before putting his phone aside and lying down with Yuuri, pulling him against his chest. Yuuri sighs, burying his face in Victor’s chest. He does not know if he will be able to sleep – after all, they are on a plane. But Victor is warm against him, and his presence soothes him.

“I can’t wait to meet your family,” Victor whispers. “I hope I won’t make a fool of myself.”

“You won’t,” Yuuri assures him quietly. “They love you already.”

“I was talking about my Japanese skills,” Victor chuckles, but Yuuri can tell that his fiancé is indeed nervous about meeting his parents and his sister for the first time in person. After all, video calls only do so much.

“My mother will embarrass me by showing baby pictures and my father will serve you booze,” Yuuri hums, drawing an invisible pattern to Victor’s chest with his finger. “And my sister will tell you embarrassing stories from school.”

Victor chuckles. “I can’t wait,” he whispers.

The thing is, Yuuri has not been home in years.

That in itself is not a problem, as he knows that his parents support him in his studies and in his choices, and they know that he cannot just fly over whenever he pleases. After all, tickets are expensive, and the salary for a PhD student in an assistant position is very poor, and he does not want to ask his family to give him money. No, Yuuri has his pride.

But he has not imagined that he would eventually come home with a boyfriend by his side. Yes, that his reunion with his family would also include them meeting a boyfriend of his. His former relationships he had hardly mentioned, and they had not lasted very long either. No, this is the first time he is bringing someone home, and Yuuri is nervous.

The fact that Victor, upon being in Japan for the first time, is behaving like an overexcited puppy, does not help much. The actual puppy, namely Makkachin, is surprisingly well-behaved once they collect her at the airport of Fukuoka and get on the train to Hasetsu.

“There is piano music when the train is departing?” Victor exclaims in wonder as the music plays over the speakers above their heads. “Wow! This is such a nice concept!”

Yuuri cannot help but smile at the way his fiancé inspects everything, how amazed he is at the simple things that the people that live here do not even notice anymore.

“So many vending machines,” Victor says and points at them through the window as the train begins moving.

“Yeah, they are everywhere,” Yuuri says and hides his yawn behind his hand. He is terribly tired, despite sleeping on the plane, and he hopes that they can go to bed very soon. However, if his mother is as enthusiastic about his return as he thinks she will be, that will remain only wishful thinking.

“I have to try so many things here,” Victor says. “Pocari Sweat, Ramune, Daifuku, Melon Pan…” He leans back on his seat and pats Makkachin’s head, who rests on the floor between their feet. “I haven’t been on a proper vacation like this in ages. Last time I went to New Zealand and got the most horrible sunburn…”

Yuuri remembers the picture of said incident that Victor had shown him a while ago, and indeed, that sort of sunburn is something no one would ever want to see repeated.

“But this,” Victor says and takes Yuuri’s hand, kissing his knuckles, “is much better. A nice holiday with my fiancé and meeting his family and friends.”

Yuuri blushes and squeezes his hand. “Are you nervous still?”

“Terrified, in fact,” Victor says without hesitation. “But I just hope that they will like me. And that I won’t accidentally insult them in Japanese.”

“That won’t happen,” Yuuri assures him. “Japanese isn’t dependent on tones like Chinese is. And besides, we’ve practiced enough. You’ll be fine.”

“I’ll trust your judgement, then,” Victor says and then yawns himself, and Yuuri notices how small the eyes of his fiancé are when he’s tired. It seems that Victor has not slept too much on the plane either.

Thus, they do not speak a lot as the train takes them from Fukuoka to Hasetsu, both of them watching the landscape pass by. For Victor, everything is exciting and new, whereas for Yuuri, it is home. Japan looks so very different from America, and its people hold themselves differently, too. Yuuri can feel that he is one of them, that it is now Victor who looks and talks like an outsider, but that is not necessarily a bad thing, after all. The people on the train look at Victor, look at their joined hands, and even if one of them recognises Victor, they are not saying anything. The further away they get from Fukuoka, the more anonymous their lives become, and it feels incredibly liberating.

Yuuri cannot even imagine what it must be like for Victor to be finally free from the reputation that follows him everywhere.

By the time they arrive in Hasetsu, the sun is already setting and their stomachs are growling.

“I wonder who will pick us up,” Yuuri says as they take the escalator down from the platform to street level. “My parents can’t just leave the inn whenever they like, they probably asked a neighbour or…”

But Victor nudges him with his elbow. “Look.”

Yuuri turns his head and finds his sister standing by the exit, wearing a coat over her work clothes, smoking a cigarette in the designated area. The moment she spots them, she throws the cigarette in the ashtray and rushes towards them, just in time as Yuuri skips the last few steps of the escalator and falls into her arms.

“Mari!” He breathes and hugs his sister tightly, something he would not usually do, but he has not seen her in reality in years, and he cannot hold back his tears.

“Hey there,” Mari sighs and pats his back before they pull apart again, and he can see her eyes look watery, too. “Took you long enough.”

“Sorry,” Yuuri laughs while he cries and brings his hand up to his eyes to wipe the tears away before he remembers that he has actually come with his fiancé and their dog. “Mari, this is Victor. Victor, this is my sister.”

Victor steps forward and, the perfect student, bows instead of offering Mari a handshake, and smiles warmly at her. “Nice to meet you,” he says in Japanese. “I’m Victor.”

Mari gives him a little bow in return and then looks at Yuuri again. “Fuck me, I thought you were joking. It’s really him.”

Yuuri blushes. “Well… yes.”

“And you speak Japanese?” She asks Victor, just as Makkachin comes to greet her with a wagging tail. “Your pronunciation is good!”

Victor beams. “I understood that!” He says excitedly. “Yuuri, I understood!”

“He’s been learning Japanese for a bit now,” Yuuri says and pulls on his suitcase. “Do you think we’ll all fit into the car together?”

“We bought a bigger one last year,” Mari says, still showering Makkachin with affection. “Also, we should get going, Okaa-san is making katsudon for dinner.”

Yuuri’s eyes light up and Victor smiles knowingly.

“You know what katsudon is, Victor?” Mari asks, taking Makkachin’s leash into her hand as they make their way out of the train station towards the parking lot.

“I do,” Victor says and Yuuri can tell that he is both excited and nervous about speaking Japanese. “Sometimes, Yuuri makes it. But he says that your mother’s katsudon is the best.”

“He’s right,” Mari laughs. “You will gain so much weight thanks to her, pretty boy.”

“What’s she saying?” Victor asks, Mari’s Japanese too fast for him, but Yuuri merely smiles to himself.

Coming home with one’s fiancé is a surreal experience.

Yuuri is not sure about whom his parents are happier, their son or their future son-in-law. Not that Yuuri minds, though. No, his mother dotes on Victor from the second they meet, hugging him and pinching his cheeks and calling him Vicchan, and asking him if he is hungry. His father has greeted Victor with a firm handshakes and broken English, offering him the best sake they have. Mari has shown them to ‘their’ room that Yuuri’s mother has transformed into a neat little paradise for them, including a big bed and even a small sofa.

Now they are sitting on the tatami mats, wearing the inn’s robes after their first proper soak in the onsen – which Victor had left only very reluctantly and with the promise of food – and with bowls of home-made katsudon in front of them.

“This is delicious!” Victor declares in Japanese and Hiroko laughs, patting his head happily before running off to the kitchen to get the rest of the bowls for the family. Yuuri’s father pours them drinks and updates Yuuri about the recent developments in Hasetsu and in the onsen itself, and it all feels just as if he had never been gone.

The proof that he has been gone for quite a while, however, sits next to him and beams at everyone and everything. Victor loves it here already, and that alone is enough to calm Yuuri’s nerves about being home again.

Eventually, the whole family has gathered at the table, with the few guests of the inn in the room next door so that they can rush to tend to them whenever needed. But tonight, the guests are quieter than usual, and the conversation flows uninterrupted. Yuuri translates for Victor as best as he can whenever it gets too complicated – which is all the time, since his family speaks in Kyushu dialect.

“So, Yuuri,” Mari says and leans over the table, reaching out to grab his hand. “Let me see that ring.”

“Oh, yeah, right,” Yuuri says and blushes right away. “It’s nice.”

“It’s very nice,” Mari says and throws a glance at Victor. “Do you have the same ring?” She asks in English.

“That’s a funny story, actually,” Victor replies in the same language and proceeds to tell them that they happened to propose at the same time with very individual rings, and that he has been keeping this ring on him for months to be ready whenever the right moment would arise. At that, Hiroko sighs dreamily and Yuuri’s father raises an eyebrow, and Mari throws a critical look at her brother.

“Victor is a bit dramatic sometimes,” Yuuri mumbles from behind his cup of green tea, but although he speaks Japanese, Victor understands.

“Did you just call me dramatic?” Victor gasps in feigned shock, much to Hiroko’s and Toshiya’s entertainment.

“Proof is right there,” Yuuri nods at the ring on his finger but he is smiling. “But yes, it was a funny situation. On Victor’s birthday, even.”

“I wish we could have celebrated your birthday together last year,” Hiroko says. “But there is so much more to look forward to, and many more birthdays. Have you already talked about a date for the wedding?”

Yuuri and Victor exchange a look. “Not really, no,” Yuuri admits. “I want to get my PhD done first and then we can start planning, I think.” He yawns, quickly hiding it behind his hand.

“And especially not tonight,” Toshiya says and begins to gather the dishes. “You must be tired. Why don’t you go to bed and sleep in tomorrow?”

Yuuri follows his father’s advice only too happily, now that he has had a good soak in the onsen and a good meal. His body feels incredibly heavy as he walks upstairs with Victor, feeling his fiancé’s hand on the small of his back.

“This is such a lovely little room,” Victor says once they have shut the door behind themselves and flop down on the big bed. “You have to show me your childhood bedroom tomorrow.”

“Will do,” Yuuri says with another yawn and slips under the covers. “Tomorrow.”

Victor chuckles and joins him after turning off the lights, curling up close to him with a hand around his waist.

“Your family is lovely,” he whispers. “I love them already.”

“They love you too,” Yuuri whispers and presses a kiss to Victor’s jaw. “And so do I.”

The next morning Yuuri wakes on his own, the empty space beside him cold as he reaches out blindly for Victor, but has to realise that he must have gotten up again. Looking at the alarm clock, he knows why: it is almost 11 in the morning, far past their usual time for getting up in the morning, but Yuuri still feels not quite rested. Nonetheless, he forces himself out of bed, hearing Victor laughing the moment he reaches the stairs.

He finds him in the kitchen, sitting at the old table with Hiroko and looking at what Yuuri recognises in horror are photo albums.

“Yuuuuri!” Victor’s entire face lights up as he comes in and he gets up halfway from his chair to kiss him good morning. “Your mother is showing me baby pictures!”

“Why do you all hate me so much,” Yuuri mumbles and walks over to the kettle to make himself a cup of tea.

“Don’t say that, you were such a cute baby!” Victor says and leans over a picture that shows Yuuri on his first day at nursery school. “Look at you! Round cheeks and all!” He taps the picture with his finger to show Hiroko what he means. She laughs and agrees with an enthusiastic nod. Yuuri sighs.

He takes some rice out of the rice cooker and some miso soup from the stove, sitting down by the table and letting himself enjoy the fact that he is home again. A simple breakfast like this has been his daily meal during his school days that feel now long gone, but the meal seems to take him back in time either way. Yuuri lets out a content sigh, which Victor seems to pick up, and his fiancé smiles at him knowingly.

Coming home is a feeling that is universally known.

They do not really have any plans for their vacation in Hasetsu. Of course there are things that they intend to see and do, and especially Victor is eager to explore the town. But they are just as content with staying in, and they become part of the onsen work before they know it. Right after Yuuri has eaten, his father comes in and declares that he could need a helping hand in the back garden, and Victor, understanding only half of it, enthusiastically agrees.

“Bonding time with my father-in-law,” Victor whispers into Yuuri’s ear as he gives him a quick kiss. “You spend some time with your mum, okay?”

It’s not like Yuuri can say no to that.

And so, he finds himself on the passenger seat of his parents’ car, driving down to the supermarket with his mother. Hiroko hums along to the radio playing cheesy old songs that haunt Yuuri in his dreams, that kind of music you find horrible but it gets stuck in your head nonetheless. In the past, he has often done these trips with his mother, helping her stock up on groceries for both the family and the onsen guests. It has been years since they have last done this.

“It’s been so long since we last did this,” Hiroko says suddenly, as if she had been reading his thoughts. “Isn’t it nice?”

“It is,” Yuuri agrees. “Are you still buying fish from Kagiyama-san?”

“Oh, he’s retired now, finally!” Hiroko replies as they arrive at the parking lot of the supermarket. “His daughters managed to convince him. His son-in-law runs the shop now, officially, but of course, Kagiyama-san still comes to the shop every day. He cannot sit still. Ah, your father and I will probably be the same one day.”

She parks the car and they head inside, grabbing shopping carts and going mentally through the list of groceries. His mother has never needed to write anything down.

“You know, Mari said she’d be happy to run the inn one day if we wanted her to,” Hiroko says as they first grab two large bags of rice. “But I know it’s not what she wants.”

“What does she want to do instead?” Yuuri asks.

“Oh, I don’t know,” his mother replies with a sigh. “It’s impossible to figure her out sometimes. She has this friend that runs a café, and she helps out there sometimes. I told her we had the money for her to go to university like you, but she said that’s your field, not hers.”

“She’ll figure it out,” Yuuri says. “She always has.”

“I think so, too,” Hiroko says and picks a few bottles of sesame and fish oil from the shelf. “Some things take time. A bit like Vicchan and his career. He took rather drastic steps but it helped him, right?”

“Yeah.” Yuuri pushes the cart down the aisle, following his mother around like the child he used to be. It almost feels like back in the day, when he was thirteen or fourteen years old. Grocery shopping with his mother.

“He is such a kind man,” Hiroko says then. “So polite. And very intelligent. I did read a few articles about him and they always speak of him as if he were just beautiful but stupid. Of course, I didn’t believe them for one second,” she tells Yuuri as he opens his mouth in protest. “You would never date someone who couldn’t match you. Let alone decide to marry that person. I trust your judgement alone.”

Yuuri feels himself blush at his mother’s words and choses to say nothing, silently pushing the shopping cart down the isle like the ever-supporting son that he is while his mother goes through her mental shopping list. She knows where everything is, putting countless things into the cart that Yuuri hardly ever sees in American grocery stores.

“I wish you could get married in Japan,” his mother says as they reach the section with cereal. “I hope they will change the law soon. It is not right that you can’t get married properly in Hasetsu.”

“I know,” Yuuri agrees. “But maybe… I don’t know, something unofficial could be possible here. You know, in America people sometimes get married by a friend. It’s not always official but more of a gesture. We could… I don’t know, maybe get the marriage certificate from the town hall in America and have the, uh, meaningful wedding here?”

Hiroko smiles at that. “You have to speak to Vicchan about that,” she says and picks Yuuri’s favourite cereal from the shelf. Of course, she still remembers. “But it would be a nice idea. Do you think he will invite his mother?”

Yuuri would be a liar if he said he had not thought about that before. He has not asked Victor yet, not sure how he feels now after meeting his mother again. He knows that they have stayed in touch – they have even phoned once, discussing what to do with his grandmother’s belongings. Soon after that, a parcel had arrived with various knickknacks that looked so awfully Russian to Yuuri that he had laughed.

Besides that, Victor stays in touch with his mother via text and Instagram.

“I don’t know,” Yuuri says to his own mother. “I think he might. Depending on their current relationship, that is.”

“Of course, of course,” Hiroko hums in agreement. “I’m glad they were able to reconnect. After such a long time…”

Yuuri knows how incredibly lucky he is with his parents. They have always supported him, never questioned his abilities, have never said a word about his sexuality. There has only ever been unconditional support.

It must not have been easy.

“Okaa-san,” Yuuri begins carefully.

“Hm?” His mother turns around from where she has been studying different packs of snacks on sale.

“Did people ever say stupid things to you because I was gay?”

His mother blinks in confusion. “Why would you ask that?”

“Did they?” He asks again.

Hiroko smiles softly. “Not to us, no,” she says. “Shortly after you left for America, one of Mari’s old classmates came to the onsen. I don’t know what exactly he said, but Mari grabbed him by the collar and threw him out. Takeshi was there that day to thank us for the gifts we had sent for Yuuko and the triplets to the hospital, and he dragged the man further across the courtyard and right onto the street.” She chuckles at the memory. “But that was really the only incident. If people talk, they talk. That is how they are. If they ever thought in a bad way about you or us, then I never noticed. Probably because your father and I never cared.”

She puts her hand on Yuuri’s arm.

“I know that Vicchan had a horrible experience with his own parents,” she says softly, “so we’ll make sure this is the best family for him now, right?”

“Right,” Yuuri sighs. “Thank you.”

Hiroko pats his arm and then continues her weekly shopping as if nothing had happened.

Nothing ever got to her, really. Yuuri has always admired her for it.

But her words hold a lot of truth, he thinks as he follows her around and helps her get the groceries into the boot of their car. All they can do for Victor is to give him the best family they can possibly be.

It’s all that Yuuri can do for him.

It is what Victor has done for him in every moment, in every hour, in every second since he came into his life.

They settle into a rhythm similar to the one at home, but without the pressure of university projects sitting on their backs and reminding them of what comes next.

They get up around eight, have breakfast, take Makkachin out for a walk through the town, and then spend their days in whatever way that suits them. There is always something to do around the house, around the onsen, making it easy to forget that there is an entirely different world waiting beyond the horizon.

Victor has never been more relaxed.

Of course, the people of Hasetsu know the name Victor Nikiforov™, but they cannot put the name and the face together, so it seems. And even if they know who Victor is, they do not mention it and let him be.

That does obviously not apply to Yuuko’s triplets as they go over to the Nishigori’s place one evening for dinner. Victor finds himself attacked by three little girls immediately, asking him questions in adorable English and Kyushu-accented Japanese that Victor has absolutely no chance of understanding at this point, but he lets them be.

Axel, Lutz, and Loop are incredibly entertaining children and he is only too happy to spend time with them on the living room floor while Yuuri, Yuuko, and Takeshi talk like adults.

“I thought Mari was joking when she said you were dating Victor Nikiforov,” Takeshi admits and glances over at Victor, who is currently telling the girls in butchered Japanese that yes, he does know the members of BTS personally and that yes, they are very nice and very pretty.

“I know it’s very unlikely that someone like him would like me,” Yuuri says.

Takeshi frowns. “That’s not what I meant. But then again, what are the chances of running into him at your university?”

“True,” Yuuri agrees and sips his tea. “What are the chances of someone like him dropping acting and going back to college.”

“Right,” Yuuko agrees and places a plate of homemade mochi on the table. “Do you think he has quit acting for good? I really like his films. But if he’s unhappy he shouldn’t force himself.”

“I don’t think he’s unhappy,” Takeshi remarks as Victor laughs about the triplets’ re-enactment of famous film moments, the current one suspiciously familiar to the infamous door scene in Olympic – the very one in which Victor had drowned and Mila had survived.

“We’ll see,” Yuuri says. “We both have university to focus on first.”

“Do you already know what you want to do next?” Yuuko asks. “Besides getting married, that is. Speaking of, it will be in America, right?”

“Probably,” Yuuri nods. “Since Japan still does not allow same-sex marriage. But we’ve been thinking about doing a separate wedding with family and friends here, and the formal stuff over in the states.”

He allows himself once more to imagine it, going to the town hall with Victor on an ordinary day and coming out as husbands, and no one would know.

Well.

The press would find out soon enough.

“It’s pretty remarkable that you haven’t ended up all over the papers yet,” Takeshi remarks as if he had been reading Yuuri’s mind.

“We’re keeping things private,” Yuuri explains. “Mostly for my sake. But I think Victor doesn’t want the attention either.”

“What’s this?” Victor asks and rises from the living room floor, the triplets hanging from his arms and refusing to let go of him. “I understood my name and the word ‘attention’. Yuuuuri, are you making fun of me again?” He pouts playfully.

Yuuri loves his idiot fiancé so much.

“I would never make fun of you,” Yuuri assures him. “We were talking about the press and how they haven’t found out about us yet.”

“Oh, they see what they want to see,” Victor explains in English to Yuuri’s friends. “They think I’m home all day moping or having some scandalous affair with a prince, or so the papers said since I last read up on some gossip about me. Little do they know I’ve got it so much better.”

He winks at Yuuri, who groans and pinches the bridge of his nose in embarrassment.

“Alright, girls, time for bed,” Yuuko says and gets up to remove each child individually from Victor, but they don’t go without a fight, screaming their good night wishes down the stairs.

“Sorry about that,” Takeshi says and gets up to walk over to the fridge. “Victor, do you like beer?”

Now that the children are in bed they switch to alcohol which loosens the tongue and brings Victor’s Japanese to a surprisingly interesting level. Yuuri doesn’t drink much and talks less, listening to Victor making friends with his friends instead. In the back of his head, he had been worried about Victor meeting Yuuko and Takeshi, knowing very well how easily Victor’s personality could clash with the people of his hometown. But Yuuko and Takeshi engage in every topic, and welcome Victor into their little circle that has existed since pre-school with open arms. He is now one of them and they let him know. Not in words, but with their hospitality.

By the time they walk back to the onsen, Victor is more than just a little tipsy. He clings to Yuuri as if he were his anchor and presses kisses to his hair and cheeks whenever possible, and Yuuri is very much glad that people are asleep already and cannot see them.

“Yuuuuri, let’s buy a house in Hasetsu,” Victor hums into his ear. “It’s so pretty here and everyone is so nice and no one knows me and everyone knows you and the food is so good and Makkachin loves the beach and I love the beach and you love the beach—”

“How about a beach house then?” Yuuri asks with a chuckle and wraps his arm around Victor’s middle to keep him standing properly.

Victor’s face lights up. “Yes! A beach house! I don’t have a beach house yet! Yuuri, what about a beach house with a beach?”

“Alright, you are far more drunk than I thought,” Yuuri laughs and is relieved to see the gate of the onsen down the street. He keeps Victor chatting about this and that and tells him lovingly to shut up and not wake everyone as they arrive at home. As quietly as they can, they make their way back to their bedroom and Yuuri orders Victor to drink a glass of water. Surprisingly, Victor does as he says, but as soon as he has put the glass aside, he reaches out and pulls Yuuri close, burying his face in Yuuri’s stomach.

“Hmm soft,” Victor hums happily. “The best pillow.”

Yuuri sighs and pats Victor’s shoulder patiently. “If you let me go I’ll get into bed and you can even put your head on my stomach, doesn’t that sound even better?”

“Hmm maybe,” Victor gives back but doesn’t move, so Yuuri has to free himself from his embrace to change into his sleeping shirt and crawl under the covers. Victor, sensible enough to undress, joins him and wraps his arms around him like an octopus.

“I like your friends,” he whispers into Yuuri’s ear. “And I like your family. I like everyone here so much.”

Yuuri smiles into the darkness of their bedroom. “I’m glad.”

“But I like you best,” Victor goes on and presses a kiss to Yuuri’s neck that suddenly feels very hot. “And I like that you like me. Not many people like me.”

It stings to hear this from Victor, who, like many others, pours out his heart to anyone who will hear it the moment he reaches a certain level of drunkenness. The way he says it, with such certainty and sadness that he has long since accepted, breaks Yuuri’s heart.

“You don’t need many people to like you,” Yuuri whispers. “Just me, my family, and your friends. That’s enough, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Victor sighs, and Yuuri wonders how drunk Victor still is, or if this is his sensible self speaking again. “Your father said he likes me.”

That is a surprisingly expressive statement from his usually so quiet father, Yuuri thinks, but he does not doubt Victor for a second.

“I know,” Yuuri says softly and brings his hand up to Victor’s hair, knowing how the gesture always works wonders with him.

“My father didn’t like me,” Victor murmurs, the statement neutral, but it sends shivers down Yuuri’s spine. Not of the good kind. “I’m better than him. I’m better than him, right?”

“Yes, Vitya,” Yuuri whispers and holds him closer. “You are better than him.”

Victor lets out another sigh, and his lips find Yuuri’s neck again.

“I will like myself,” he says into the silence of the night. “Because you like me, too.”

He falls asleep after that, succumbing to the alcohol in his blood, but Yuuri stays awake for a little longer, thinking about these odd statements of a drunk man that hold truths that Victor usually keeps to himself.

Victor doesn’t remember the next morning, and Yuuri does not remind him.

Instead, he places a steaming cup of tea in front of him and promises that it will cure his headache while Victor whines about feeling terrible and that he will never, ever drink alcohol again. Yuuri is about to remind him that maybe he is also not twenty anymore, but that would just add another breakdown to Victor’s current mood, and so, he keeps that thought to himself. He pats his shoulder and tells him to drink his tea and promises to go for a walk along the beach with him later.

At the word ‘walk’, Makkachin immediately gets up and wags her tail in excitement, and as she refuses to calm down again, they get dressed and go for said walk right away.

It takes Victor a while to wake up properly, but by the time they have reached the beach and let Makkachin run around to her heart’s delight, Yuuri’s fiancé is almost back entirely to his usual self.

“This place reminds me of St. Petersburg,” Victor says as they take a seat on one of the low walls that line the shore. “The salty air, the seagulls…” He chuckles as Makkachin barks in excitement at apparently having found the best stick ever. “I often went down there to be alone when my home became too loud.”

“Me too,” Yuuri says softly and takes Victor’s hand, interlacing their fingers out of sheer instinct. “A different kind of loud, though.”

“I get that,” Victor says. “The onsen can be quite busy.”

“Very busy, yes,” Yuuri agrees. “At the moment, it’s rather full, too. Because of hanami season,” he adds in explanation and looks over his shoulder at the park on the other side of the road, where the cherry blossoms are currently in full bloom. They have taken a walk through the park on the way to the beach, and Victor had looked like a supernatural, otherworldly being underneath the pink blossoms.

“It’s a beautiful time of the year to come here,” Victor hums and squeezes Yuuri’s hand. “We should maybe get a place of our own here, as a holiday home. Don’t get me wrong, Yuuri, I love your family,” Victor says with a sigh and gives him a pained look. “But the walls are so thin and we haven’t had sex in YEARS.”

Yuuri snorts and leans against Victor, resting his head on his shoulder. “You are so dramatic. We’ve been here for a week so far.”

“A very fun and very dry week!” Victor sighs, every ounce the dramatic actor. “And every morning I have to wake up next to a literal god and all I want is to wreck you but THEN I think of your sister’s room down the hall and there goes my—”

“Alright, alright,” Yuuri laughs and leans up to press a quick kiss to his lips. “I say yes to the holiday home here in Hasetsu. I mean, it’s not like I don’t miss it, either.”

Victor sighs and puts an arm around his shoulders. “I promise, Yuuri, I will wreck you the moment we get home.”

He says it as if he were promising to get new filters for their vacuum cleaner, in such a mundane and simple way that Yuuri cannot help to laugh to himself.

His fiancé is so ridiculous sometimes.

He loves him more than anything.

“I mean, we could have our honeymoon here,” Yuuri says. “If we get the house in time, that is.”

“I was thinking of a more tropical climate for our honeymoon,” Victor says. “The Bahamas maybe? Mila has a holiday home there that she’d surely let us use.”

“Sounds nice,” Yuuri agrees. “But before we speak about the honeymoon, we should probably speak about the wedding first. My parents keep asking about it.”

“Right,” Victor agrees and holds out his hand as Makkachin comes running to them to drop her new favourite stick into his lap. Victor throws it, and Makkachin runs after it like a lunatic. Dogs are so very easy to please.

“So I’ve been thinking,” Yuuri begins, “that we could maybe do the official part in the states, and then we have a bigger wedding with family and friends here in Hasetsu.”

“I’ve actually been thinking the same,” Victor says, “but I’d want your family to be present in the US, too.”

“What about your mother?”

Victor stiffens a little beside him. “Part of me wants to be petty and not invite her,” he murmurs. “The other part tells me to invite her.”

“You don’t have to decide right now, Victor,” Yuuri assures him. There is probably not a more difficult decision than this one in their wedding preparations. My God, they are getting married. Yuuri still cannot believe it.

“Right,” Victor nods along with Yuuri. “But we’ve been getting along decently so far. In our calls and such. She’s… different now.” He looks down at their joined hands and runs his thumb over Yuuri’s fingers. “She often asks about you. She really likes you. That means she’s got taste.”

“Victor!” Yuuri sighs and shakes his head in disbelief at his fiancé’s antics, but he has to smile, too. If Victor can joke about his mother, or somewhat praise her, then they are on a good way.

Makkachin returns, the stick between their teeth, but instead of insisting on another round, she curls up by Victor’s feet and puts her head between her paws. Victor reaches down to scratch her head.

“Coming here was the right thing to do,” he says. “Let us come back for Sakura season every year, okay?”

Yuuri leans against his fiancé and closes his eyes, breathing in the salty air of his hometown, and feeling the warmth of the man he loves.

“Okay,” he hums, and he feels Victor’s arm settling around his shoulders.

Saying goodbye to one’s family does not happen without tears, most of the time.

The one crying the most, however, is Victor.

Yuuri is still patting his hand by the time they are on the plane back home, promising his fiancé again and again that they will go back to Hasetsu whenever possible, and that yes, he has a firm place in the Katsuki family now. He is not embarrassed by Victor’s tears, as he knows that they only mean that Victor loves his family just as much as they love him. Yuuri himself does not cry, but his heart feels heavy, and he misses his family terribly already.

It won’t be for long, they both tell themselves. After all, there is a wedding to plan.

Their plans for the wedding, however, are discarded as soon as they land in the States and are told by a very friendly stewardess that unfortunately, there are photographers waiting in the airport, as someone had apparently posted on Twitter that Victor was on their flight, and now the world is dying to know what Victor Nikiforov had been up to in Japan.

“Perhaps we should split up,” Victor suggests to Yuuri, who can see how tired his fiancé is of things like this. “You go out first and we take separate taxis home.”

“Are you sure?” Yuuri asks and glances out of the window at the airport building. “I don’t mind walking out with you.”

“I know, Yuuri,” Victor says softly,” but if they find out who you are, they won’t leave you alone for ages. You have to prepare for your thesis defence. I don’t want them to ruin this for you.”

Yuuri knows that Victor is probably right, but that does not mean he likes it. But he nods, and Victor kisses him gently before he lets him leave the plane first. And indeed, there are tons of photographers standing on the other side of the glass walls that separate the arrivals area from baggage claim. None of them pay attention to him as he waits for his suitcase and eventually grabs it, and then he heads out, pretending that their presence does not anger him at all.

Only as he sits in a taxi back to the city, he pulls out his phone and checks Twitter. And there they are, the pictures of Victor leaving the airport together with Makkachin, holding up his hand to his face to shield his eyes from the cameras.

What has our favourite heartthrob been doing in Japan? StarGossip.com has some clues for you!

Naturally, none of them get it right, and Yuuri shoves his phone back into his pocket with a huff.

It shouldn’t be like this. Victor is a person, not an object, and these people do not have a right to take pictures of him whenever they please. And yet, there is nothing that they can do about it.

No wonder, Yuuri thinks to himself, that Victor enjoys college so much. After all, he could leave all of this behind.

At home, he unpacks and takes a shower, and by the time he puts the kettle on, he hears Victor and Makkachin return. His fiancé looks tired as he enters the kitchen and presses a kiss to Yuuri’s hair before filling Makkachin’s bowl.

“I hope they were not too rough on you,” Yuuri says, not knowing what else to say.

“I’m fine,” Victor says, but Yuuri is not sure if he believes him. In the past, Victor has told him about his experiences with photographers and how much he despises them.

Yuuri grabs their favourite mugs from the cabinet above and chooses Victor’s favourite tea from the box.

“You know,” Victor goes on, and Yuuri is relieved that he is not remaining silent, “if photographers didn’t exist, actors would have it a lot easier. Or people in the entertainment industry in general. I know that they are only doing their jobs, and I don’t mind them at events and such, but…” He gets up from filling Makkachin’s bowl and sets the dog food aside before folding his arms, a clear sign of his discontent with the situation. “It’s not okay that I cannot leave the plane with my fiancé because of them. If they were just coming after me, fine, I guess that’s the price I have to pay for being an actor and famous, but you shouldn’t suffer from it, too.”

“Victor.” Yuuri puts the mugs down and walks over to him, placing a hand on his arm. “It’s okay. Next time, we’ll just walk out together, not hiding anything. I really don’t mind.”

“Yuuri, you don’t know what you are talking about,” Victor says, not in an unfriendly tone, but firmly enough. “These people don’t care for your privacy. When we were doing Olympic, I couldn’t leave my own house because they were blocking my driveway. Some of them tried to get into my last apartment. There even was one who harassed Makkachin’s dog sitter. All for a good photo. I don’t want to do that to you.”

By the time he finishes, Victor looks and sounds tired. Not physically, but mentally, from the whole situation.

“I know,” Yuuri says, not knowing what else to say to that. Victor is the one with experience when it comes to photographers, not him. He believes every word, knows that he can trust Victor on this. “But I also don’t want you to be alone in all this. We’ll find a way. I mean, yes, they will be after us the moment they find out about us, but I’m probably the most boring person ever to them.” He raises his hand as Victor opens his mouth in protest. “I know you don’t think I’m boring, but truth be told, I’m merely an academic, not famous, and there’s absolutely nothing about me on the internet besides my private Instagram and a few papers that I’ve written. And I don’t think that those horrible websites will talk about those.”

Victor’s mouth twitches. “I’d be surprised if they did,” he says. “But I don’t want them to surprise you at work.”

“Then I’ll call campus security,” Yuuri says simply. “I’ll let my boss know, too. Victor, I know you only want to protect me, but I’m not made of glass. And I want to support you in every way.”

He stands on his toes to press a gentle kiss to Victor’s lips, then pulls away again. “Tea, and then shower and bed?”

Victor nods. “Sounds good. And you smell lovely.”

“And you stink like a plane.”

“Yuuuuri!”

It’s not like they are hiding.

In fact, Yuuri is almost disappointed by the fact that he can kiss Victor Nikiforov™ in the middle of their local supermarket and it does not lead to a secretly taken photograph and a huge headline that suggests a scandalous affair. No longer caring takes some effort, especially on Victor’s side, but they try to make it work.

As the new term begins, Victor decides to keep wearing his beanie and his glasses on campus -mostly for the sake of his privacy, but also because he does not want to annoy the other students by drawing attention to himself. To Yuuri and Phichit, Victor’s presence is as obvious as a lit-up Christmas tree, and they cannot help but wonder why campus gossip has still not found the tea of the goddamn century.

“I mean,” Yuuri says over coffee one morning, as Phichit stretches out on the small couch in his office, “at the moment, everyone’s eyes are on you.”

Phichit grins like a Cheshire cat. “I know, I know,” he says, not ashamed in the slightest. “You have no idea how many people have asked me very detailed questions about Chris’, ah, assets.”

It does not surprise Yuuri at all. How could he, after Phichit and Chris had been caught by a poor member of the cleaning staff, going at it in the equipment room of the Film Studies department. Chris had been in town for a weekend visit, and they had apparently tried to make very good use of it.

And then, Chris had extended his visit, and had spent his afternoons reading in the library, waiting for Phichit to finish his classes.

Half of campus had lost their minds over the presence of such a famous actor right in their midst.

Victor had, of course, avoided the library during this time.

“You guys are not very subtle in the first place,” Yuuri says. “Did you see his last post?”

“The one in which he called me ‘the tastiest snacc of the century’, snacc with two c’s?” Phichit asks innocently. “I mean, I gave him something nice to think about while he’s in Switzerland.”

“I can imagine,” Yuuri chuckles and sips his coffee. It is the very good one, ordered by Victor for a horrendous sum.

Yuuri knows better than to argue with his fiancé about ‘quality’.

“But because Chris is not as famous as Victor – at least here in the US – I haven’t had any photographers following me around yet,” Phichit says and sounds almost disappointed.

“I’ll share them with you once they find out about me and Victor,” Yuuri says.

But even though Yuuri and Victor have stopped being as careful as they used to be, no one seems to notice. Victor is relieved, but Yuuri is sure that the press will sooner or later catch up.

It is only a matter of time.

One day, as Yuuri gets out of the shower, he hears Victor speak on the phone in rapid Russian, and the very few words he can understand make it sound like something very distressing. Yakov is mentioned a few times, and then he hears his own name, too, and a cold shiver runs down his spine. He grabs his dressing gown and walks out into the bedroom to Victor, who sits on the bed and holds up his hand as Yuuri comes in, as if to keep him from speaking. Yuuri frowns, but waits while Victor ends the call.

“What’s going on?” Yuuri asks worriedly and walks over to him. “Is everything okay? Who was that on the phone?”

“It was Mila. Everything’s fine,” Victor adds quickly as Yuuri opens his mouth and takes his hand. “I just got some news that I need your opinion on.”

“Oh?” Yuuri sits down on the bed. “What is it?”

Victor takes a deep breath. “So, Mila told me about this project a while ago that she’s been hearing about, and now they’ve actually asked her.”

“What kind of project?” Yuuri asks curiously. “A film?”

“Yeah.” And then, Victor’s eyes light up. “And what a film it is. It is going to be a Christmas film for queer people by queer people. And all of the revenues are going to be donated to a special charity for LGBTQ teens. The director wants to make a film that is not dealing with the usual stuff: no coming out tragedy, no deaths, no negative portrayal of the community. Just a very queer Christmas film and according to Mila, the script is excellent and so much fun. They’re now looking for openly queer actors to star in it and Mila just asked me this morning if I’d be willing to join the cast. Chris, too.”

Yuuri blinks. He had expected many things, but not that.

“Victor, that sounds amazing! Do you want to do it?”

Victor blushes, as if he were embarrassed to answer. “I… I think so, yes. But it would be my first film after taking such a long break.” He looks down at their joined hands and plays with the ring on Yuuri’s finger. “They’d shoot it in July and August. That means I’d have to do all the script readings and stuff besides my university work. I’m not worried about that per se, but making a film is a lot of work. I’d spend most of my time either in class, at the studio, or on set. I’d only come home for sleep.”

Yuuri tilts his head to the side. “I know that all of this is part of making a film, Victor,” he says. “Don’t worry about me. As long as this doesn’t become a habit and you still come home to kiss me.”

Victor chuckles as Yuuri presses a kiss to his cheek.

“Yeah, but… there’s something else.”

There is a shift in Victor’s voice that makes Yuuri frown in an instant, telling him that this is something that, of all things, must bother Victor the most.

“What is it?”

Victor doesn’t reply right away.

“My ex will be in the film, too. Will Pratchett.”

Yuuri tries to put a face to the name. A tall man, he remembers, with dark hair and a jawline to kill for. Famous for his role in one of the recent superhero films that Yuuri has never really been interested in.

“Okay,” Yuuri says with a small nod. “So you are worried about me potentially meeting your ex?”

“What?” Victor frowns. “No, that is… that is absolutely not what I meant. I just thought that… maybe you wouldn’t want me to be in this film with him.”

“Is he playing your love interest?” Yuuri asks, a sudden knot in his stomach of which he knows it doesn’t have to be there. It is just a film. Victor is faithful to him. There is nothing to worry about.

Victor shakes his head. “No, from what I’ve heard about the script from Mila, Will would play Chris’ love interest. Mine has not been cast yet, but I know for a fact that they won’t ask John. He’s busy taking care of his twins.”

“Okay,” Yuuri says and nods again, more to himself for reassurance.

“Yuuri, if you don’t feel comfortable with me doing this film then I—”

“There’s no reason to worry about that, Victor,” Yuuri tells him quickly. “I’m not worried about Will being there or you playing a couple with another guy. I know I can trust you. It’s just all very new to me.”

Victor gives him a long, good look. “It would be normal to be jealous.”

Yuuri huffs. “I’ll reserve that for the moment I meet the guy you are supposed to kiss on screen,” he says and nudges Victor with his elbow before he gets up to grab his sweatpants and shirt to get ready for bed. “Seriously, Victor, it’s fine. You don’t have to worry about me.” He smooths out his shirt and walks over to Victor again, cupping his cheeks. “I just want you to be happy. And I know you’ve been missing your film work. So do what makes you happy.” He kisses him gently, allows himself to bask in the feeling for a little while, and leans into Victor’s touch as his fiancé’s hands come to rest on his hips.

“I hope you’ll come visit me on set all the time,” Victor hums against his lips. “I’ll ask for a nice trailer and everything.”

“I’d like that,” Yuuri whispers and pushes Victor onto his back, and climbs on top of him.

One day, Victor is sure, he is going to be the cause of Yakov’s heart attack.

“Yakov,” Victor sings and leans forward on his desk chair, like a boy that is trying to get his mother’s attention. Of course, it doesn’t work. Yakov keeps typing away furiously on his keyboard, even now, during their video call. “Come on. You know this won’t be a problem.”

“Of course it is not a problem!” Yakov snap in his usual manner and finally looks up for a moment. “The film is good for your reputation! But what the hell am I supposed to tell the press about your absence in the last year? And now you’re coming back for a film meant for LGBTQ charity?”

Victor raises an eyebrow. “What, are you concerned people might think I’m gay?” He asks sarcastically. “Oh no, what a headline that will be. People will be shattered. The Vatican will riot.”

Yakov half-glares at him, the usual look. “While you have been playing the lovesick fool with your fiancé, the entire industry and the press have been wondering about your whereabouts. Why you suddenly disappeared from the public eye. I’ve had a shit ton of reporters on my doorstep, asking if you were terminally ill. If you’re going back to working on film there’ll be even more of them. I’m not looking forward to that fucking workload, that is all.”

“Hire an assistant!” Victor says cheerfully. “So you’re on my side with this film? Mila says the script is excellent, and Elton John has been secretly working on the soundtrack already. THE Elton John, Yakov! It’ll be so much fun, and for a good cause, too!”

“And your ex is in it, too,” Yakov gives back. “You’re alright with that? Is Yuuri alright with that?”

“Of course he is!” Victor raises an eyebrow. “Yakoooov. Are you telling me you are worried about my relationship?”

“What you do in your private time is none of my business!” Yakov barks, so loudly that Victor hears Yuuri coming out of the kitchen to check if everything is alright. Their eyes meet, and Victor gives him a small smile.

“I have asked Yuuri, of course, and he doesn’t have a problem with it,” he tells Yakov. “So I don’t see why you are worried.”

“Would you please use your one brain cell, just this once?” Yakov says with a heavy sigh. “You and Yuuri are not known to the public as a couple. Will is currently single. Everyone knows that the two of you used to…” He gestures broadly with his hand. “So you can imagine what the press will say. They will be eager for photographs. Gossip. Anything. Just to spin a story out of the two of you working together again. Have you thought about that? We will have to prepare for everything. Including the damn paparazzi following you and Will wherever you go.”

Victor throws a worried look at Yuuri, who is still standing by the kitchen island and holding a dish towel in his hands, wringing it nervously. He has to admit that he hasn’t quite thought about that.

“They might follow me home, you mean,” Victor says, “and find Yuuri.”

“Look,” Yakov begins, and Yuuri walks over to Victor, placing his hands on his shoulders. “All I’m saying is that this could rob you and Yuuri of deciding when to face the public together for the first time. They’ll dig around in your dirt again, Victor, just to get a story. You need to be aware of that. Both of you.”

“We are,” Yuuri says. “And I told Victor that I don’t mind, as long as I can go to work and live my life without being followed around constantly.”

“And you have a damn right to do that,” Yakov tells him with a small nod. “But it won’t be pretty either way.”

“We’ll manage,” Yuuri says, although Victor can tell that Yuuri is not feeling entirely sure about this. But that is something he certainly won’t discuss in front of Yakov.

His agent huffs. “I’ll have them send you the script by Monday,” he tells Victor. “Learn your lines.”

“Will do!” Victor says cheerfully as Yakov hangs up without saying goodbye.

That’s normal.

What is not normal is doing a full-time university degree and working as an actor at once. But Victor, not ever being a sane person, thinks he can handle it easily. He forgets, though, that Yuuri does not know what else belongs to making a film besides, well, filming it. There are meetings with several people, such as the costume department, hair and makeup, read-throughs of the script with the other actors, and so many more things that now fill Victor’s calendar. It feels nice to have that thrill again, the excitement about making a new film, about being part of a new project. This feeling used to be what Victor chased to numb his loneliness.

Now, there is nothing left to numb, for Yuuri fills his life with love and joy.

Love and joy are not enough, however, when one is so busy that the home becomes a place of sleeping and eating only. Victor tries his best, and Yuuri is patient, and busy with his own work, too. His final presentation is approaching, and he is nervous, and while he needs support, he also needs time alone.

In a way, the preparations for the film have come at just the right time.

Victor’s love interest is cast eventually, a young actor that has been in a few smaller roles before. Victor thinks he is a good choice for the dynamic they are supposed to portray – an English teacher, played by Victor, and the younger brother of his best female friend, played by Mila. There won’t be any explicit scenes between them, and – after Victor has had a long talk with the writers – not even a kiss. Romance can be portrayed in many ways, after all.

The truth is that Victor has decided to never, ever kiss anyone else again that is not his Yuuri.

By the time they enter the month of June, filming begins.

Part of it will be done in the city, mainly for the outdoor scenes, part of it will be done in Los Angeles. Victor had convinced the producer to start with the outdoor scenes first, allowing him to stay in the city with Yuuri and finish his classes, but it also puts them in a rather peculiar spotlight.

“Are you going to keep that up?” Chris asks one night when he and Phichit are staying over for dinner after filming. Victor, just having returned from a quick trip to the store around the corner because they had run out of wine, pulls his beanie from his head.

“What do you mean?”

“The beanie,” Chris says and nods at the woollen mess in Victor’s hand. “I mean, it’s not like they don’t know that we’re filming in the city and that you are in it.”

“Yeah, but they don’t need to follow me home,” Victor says and drops the beanie on the table by the door before coming into the living room with the wine. He presses a quick kiss to Yuuri’s cheek, who takes the bottle from him and goes to the kitchen to get their good wine glasses. “I’ve been in the news almost every day this week alone. Yuuri does not need to be in them, too.”

“It’s not like we’re hiding,” Yuuri says from the kitchen and pours four glasses of wine.

“But you don’t need them in your living room either,” Phichit agrees and gets up to take two of the four glasses. “I get that. They can be pretty rude. Chris and I were just sitting in the park near the set and having a good ol’ döner for lunch when they started taking pictures of us. Now I’m on the internet with yogurt sauce all over my face!”

“You still looked irresistible,” Chris purrs and takes one glass of wine from him.

“You should come to the set sometime, Yuuri,” Phichit suggests and flops down on the couch besides his boyfriend. “It’s fun to watch them work.”

“I plan to,” Yuuri says and takes a seat beside Victor, who immediately wraps an arm around his waist. “I just have a lot to do at work, and I’m my supervisor’s teaching assistant this semester as well. That means a lot of grading.”

“My mother wanted me to become a teacher,” Chris says lightly. “I would have been horrible at it.”

“I would have died if you had been my teacher,” Phichit says as he sips his wine, “I wouldn’t have kept my eyes off you the entire lesson.”

“Good god,” Victor murmurs under his breath, but Yuuri merely chuckles.

“You mean like your infatuation with your film history professor?”

“He was so cute, okay?” Phichit cries and buries his face dramatically in Chris’ arm. “But so damn straight, it was painful to watch.”

Chris sighs and pats his head understandingly. “We have all been in love with straight guys at some point.”

“And we’ve all overcome it,” Victor says. “Yuuri, don’t feel pressured into coming to the set. I understand if you’re busy.”

“I said I’d come, and I will,” Yuuri reassures him and places a hand on Victor’s thigh. “Maybe next week?”

Victor kisses his cheek. “Anytime you want.”

It is not that Yuuri is unwilling to visit Victor at the set, or that he is afraid of photographers. No, he has long since made peace with the fact that Victor is a celebrity and that he will always have people following him around in public. That there will always be photographers, fans, and admirers. Nosy media.

But Yuuri does not quite know how to enter this world that is the world of Victor Nikiforov™.

He finds himself pushed into the right direction a few days after their dinner with Phichit and Chris. It is his day off, and he has the big bed all to himself – that is, only if one does not count Makkachin. Victor had left early in the morning, and the dog had happily taken his space, sleeping beside Yuuri with her tongue lolling out. She wakes up just as Yuuri does, and greets him with wet dog kisses and earns some tired cuddles in return.

“Lemme get my glasses,” Yuuri yawns and sits up, reaching over to the bedside table to find them. Once the world looks a bit clearer, he stretches and pats Makkachin’s belly. “Slept well, hm?”

Makkachin does not reply, only looks up at him like the huge puppy that she is, and Yuuri knows what that means.

“Breakfast?”

At that, Makkachin jumps off the bed and runs into the kitchen with a wagging tail. Yuuri chuckles and gets out of bed, putting on Victor’s dressing gown that hangs by the door and that so wonderfully smells like him. The moment Yuuri puts it on, he feels something heavy in the dressing gown’s pocket, and as he reaches in, he suppresses an annoyed groan.

“One day he’ll forget his damn head,” Yuuri mutters and pulls out Victor’s phone. It is not the first time that Victor has forgotten it at home, and Yuuri is relieved that at least, he never forgets it at university or in any other public space. For a celebrity like him, it could easily lead to less than fortunate headlines – especially if a stranger found it.

Yuuri puts Victor’s phone down on the kitchen counter before he fills Makkachin’s bowl and gets himself some cereal. Victor will need his phone, he thinks and watched the phone buzz with various notifications. Risking a small glance, he sees that there are texts in Russian, several emails, and a missed call from Inessa.

Yes, Victor definitely needs his phone, and is probably annoying the whole crew on set because of it.

Yuuri sighs and checks his own phone. There is one new message from Chris.

Would you mind bringing Victor’s phone to the set? Your darling fiancé is quite restless without it and I’m sure that Yakov might explode anytime soon otherwise.

Yuuri pinches the bridge of his nose.

He eats his breakfast and leaves a note for the girl that walks Makkachin on weekdays before he heads out, the address of today’s set on his phone. It is warm in the city, and he hasn’t bothered to put on anything remarkable, just a pair of jeans and a t-shirt in which he won’t die in the heat. It feels strange to think that they are shooting a Christmas film right now, but that is how the business works, Victor had told him when Yuuri had asked him about it. There are certainly nicer things than to film in winter clothes on a hot day in July, he is sure.

Victor has already complained to him about it.

Finding the set is surprisingly easy thanks to the crowd of people surrounding it. Mostly young boys and girls have gathered around the metal barriers, phones in their hands as they eagerly try to catch a glimpse of the actors. To the side stand the photographers, all of them professionals, trying the same but in much better quality and for the celebrity magazines and websites of this world.

It feels odd to Yuuri that they all want to see the man that he shares his bed with, that he plans to share the rest of his life with. It is not that Victor is not interesting – no, Victor is the most interesting man in the world to him. But none of them really know him. They don’t know his Victor, and they don’t know that he can drive people up the wall sometimes, and that he is not an actor because of the fame, but because he loves the profession with all his heart.

But people see what they want to see.

Unsure what to do next, Yuuri looks around and spots a member of security standing by the barriers, trying to talk a few teenage girls from trying to climb over it. Another man in a black shirt stands a few meters away, nowhere near photographers, observing the scene with a watchful eye in case he needs to intervene. Yuuri walks past the girls and up to the other man.

“Hi,” he says in a low voice, trying not to draw any unwanted attention to himself. “I’m Victor Nikiforov’s boyfriend, I’m here to bring him his phone.”

The guy raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, and I’m dating Mila Babicheva,” he says dryly. “Step aside, kiddo.”

Kiddo?

Yuuri realises that this has perhaps been the wrong approach. Calling Chris or Mila wouldn’t work, as they surely leave their phones with their personal belongings while they are working.

“Just get Yakov Feltsman, in case he is here, he will confirm who I am,” Yuuri says. “I’m—”

He spots a head of red hair in the background, waving to a group of fans.

“Mila!” Yuuri calls, or rather, almost yells over the excited squeals of teenage girls. Fortunately, Mila hears him, and turns around. Her face lights up.

“Yuuri!” She cheers and jogs over to him in the heavy winter coat she is wearing. Her make up is flawless, making her skin look almost too perfect, but no amount of make up can hide her radiant smile. “You are our lord and saviour today! Are you bringing Victor his phone?”

“Yes, I’m trying,” Yuuri says and glances at the security guy.

“Oh, Carl, you can let him in!” Mila says to him and pats his shoulder. “He’s really Victor’s boyfriend!”

“Sorry, ma’am,” the man says and pulls the barrier aside just a little to let Yuuri through, but Yuuri does not miss the way the man looks at him for a moment, scanning him with his eyes.

Victor’s boyfriend.

“You really are our saviour,” Mila says and puts an arm around Yuuri’s shoulder as they walk. “Victor’s been insufferable all morning.”

“Because he can’t get online?”

“Not because of social media, no, no, he’s been complaining about not being able to text you!” She taps Yuuri’s chest with her index finger. “I’d call it romantic as fuck if it wouldn’t make filming near damn impossible.”

She leads him past several people that all look very busy and very important, each of them fulfilling a crucial role at the set in various positions. The ground is covered in countless wires that seem to lead nowhere. Several trailers are parked next to each other, all of them serving a different purpose – wardrobe, make up, restrooms, private space for the actors, and many more things that Victor has told him about in the past. To Yuuri, the set looks like a mess, but it all seems to follow a pattern that is logical to the people only that work here.

“I’m sorry if Victor gave you a hard time,” Yuuri says and instinctively bows a little, but Mila only laughs.

“Ah, don’t worry about it! I’m just exaggerating,” she says. “Victor has always been a dramatic bitch, and so am I. We’re Russians, after all!”

She leads him past the trailers towards the one at the very end, where Chris is standing, dressed in fashionable winter clothes and with a cigarette between his lips.

“Oh, thank god,” he sighs as he spots Yuuri. “Thank you so much for coming. He’s been insufferable.”

“Where is he?” Yuuri asks.

“In the make up trailer,” Chris says and nods at the trailer right behind him.

“Come!” Mila says and walks up the few steps into the trailer.

Yuuri follows her into the trailer and peeks inside, feeling strangely out of place in these polished and shiny surroundings. Even the makeup trailer’s interior looks expensive, the best of the best, and Yuuri feels terribly underdressed between the actors that sit in comfortable chairs and are getting their hair and makeup done. Victor is one of them, sitting at the far end of the line of chairs, speaking in rapid and annoyed-sounding Russian with a young man that repeatedly throws his hands in the air and responds in equally irritated way.

“Victor! Look who is here!” Mila calls and pulls Yuuri along.

Victor turns his head in the midst of his complaint. “Yuuri!” He gets up and forces himself past the makeup artist right into Yuuri’s arms, cupping his cheeks and kissing him all over. “You came!”

“I’m bringing you your phone,” Yuuri says and holds it out to Victor. “People have been complaining to me.”

“You are an angel,” Victor declares and takes the phone, putting it away immediately before he kisses Yuuri again.

“Victor!” The makeup artist calls impatiently. “Get in the chair! Now!”

“Sorry! Sorry!” Victor sighs and lets go of Yuuri, sitting back down. “Yuuri, this is Georgi, my dungeon master and the secret to my beauty on the screen. Georgi, this is—”

“The fiancé,” Georgi says, his voice and mood changing immediately as he speaks to Yuuri and offers him a handshake. “Victor has been telling me all about you since we started filming. It’s great to finally meet you.”

“Likewise,” Yuuri says, feeling everyone’s eyes on him, now that the word ‘fiancé’ has been dropped. “I-I should probably get out so you can work—”

“Nonsense,” Georgi says and lifts a large bag from a stool in the corner next to Victor’s chair. “Sit down and keep Victor calm, will you? He needs to sit still for this masterpiece that I am going to create out of this hair.”

Yuuri blinks, but quickly moves out of the way and sits down, trying not to look at the other actors in the trailer. One of them he recognises from a British tv show, but that is about it.

“What do you think of the set, love?” Victor asks as Georgi begins with his work.

“There are a lot of people,” Yuuri says. “Lots of fans and security.”

“I had to tell Carl to let Yuuri in,” Mila says from her own chair. “He didn’t believe him when he said he was your boyfriend.”

“Victor, how was he supposed to know,” Yuuri says when Victor opens his mouth in protest. “I should have called someone but I wasn’t sure if—”

“I’ll get you a set pass,” Victor says. “Should have done so right away. So you can come visit me whenever you like and avoid Carl.”

“Hey, don’t speak badly about Carl!” Mila calls out laughing. “He’s always bringing me donuts!”

The atmosphere is relaxed enough that Yuuri manages to loosen the knot inside his stomach a little more. No one here means any harm, he tells himself a few times, and then he feels better. Victor keeps talking to him about the film while Georgi works on his hair and makeup, and by the time he is done, Victor’s face looks strangely altered but still very much like him.

“What do you think?” Victor asks him and turns around.

“You look nice,” Yuuri says.

“No kissing!” Georgi shrieks and moves between them as Victor leans forward. “Don’t ruin my masterpiece!”

“Listen to the man,” Yuuri chuckles and gets up together with Victor. “Let us move out of the way for the next actor.”

“Finally someone with common sense!” Georgi sighs. “You are the one with the brain cell in the relationship, I can tell.”

“We share it,” Victor gives back with a pout and puts his arm around Yuuri. “Come, I’ll show you around.”

“See you later!” Mila calls as they leave the makeup trailer and step outside into the heat of the day. Victor is not wearing a costume yet, only jeans and a t-shirt, and therefore not almost dying of a heat stroke.

“You don’t… mind if people see us together like this?” Yuuri asks as they walk past the trailers. “There are fans nearby.”

Victor stops walking. “Do you mind?” He asks in return, attentive and ever so patient.

Yuuri shakes his head. “But won’t we draw attention to ourselves? Won’t that lead to interruptions, in the worst case?”

“Correct,” says the familiar voice of Yakov Feltsman from behind them. They turn around, just as Yakov reaches them. Despite the heat, he is wearing a suit, as usual. He nods at Yuuri in greeting before he turns to Victor. “Go get into your costume, Vitya. Your scene is up next.”

“Right,” Victor sighs and presses a quick kiss to Yuuri’s lips. “I’ll leave you with Yakov for a moment, alright?”

“Take your time,” Yuuri says as Victor rushes back towards the trailers and disappears into one.

“Have you decided to make your relationship public?”

Yuuri looks at Victor’s agent, finding the older man looking at him with an indifferent expression. It is hard to tell what the man is thinking.

“We’re not hiding,” Yuuri replies. “It wouldn’t help much if we tried, I think. They’ll find out about us anyway.”

Yakov nods. “Let me know if the press or the photographers make trouble,” he says. “I’ll make sure you get a set pass so you can come here whenever you like.”

“Thank you,” Yuuri says with a small bow. Old habits die hard.

“You are good for him,” Yakov says suddenly, and his voice sounds strangely soft for a man of his calibre, of his temperament. Yuuri looks up, a shiver running down his spine.

“Vitya did not enjoy making films anymore,” Yakov says, letting his eyes wander over the set. “He made them, but he did not enjoy it. I did not know what he was looking for. When he quit, I was worried about him. That he would get depressed. But he found happiness again. I have to thank you for that.”

Yuuri swallows thickly. To hear such words from the man that is so close to Victor means a lot, and Yuuri has expected anything, but not that.

“Vitya is like my son,” Yakov says. “He has had a terrible past. He fought a lot. Even with the ones he was with before he met you. But he is calm when he is around you.”

“Calm…” Yuuri murmurs under his breath and Yakov’s mouth twitches, as if he were suppressing a smile.

“What one can call calm when it comes to Vitya,” he agrees. “He can be himself with you, I think. He is happy.”

The way Yakov says these things make them sound so sincere and absolute, as if one could never doubt them to be anything but facts. Of course, Yuuri wants nothing more than Victor’s happiness, and specifically, that Victor is happy with him. But he does not think that he is the sole cause for Victor’s happiness, for the smiles he gives to the world.

“What I’m trying to say is, I hope you will have a happy marriage,” Yakov says and clears his throat. “I hope I’ll get an invitation.”

“Of course!” Yuuri says immediately and smiles at him. “You are part of Victor’s family. You will get an honorary seat in the very front row.”

Yakov gives a small nod, and Yuuri is sure the man is trying to not show any unnecessary emotions.

“I should get back to the office,” Yakov says. “Give your mother my regards. The vacation at your parents’ onsen was a nice break.”

“I’ll tell her,” Yuuri promises. “You have to come over for dinner sometime.”

“Only if you cook, and not Vitya,” Yakov huffs and pats his shoulder. “Go find him in the costume trailer.”

Yuuri bids the man goodbye and follows his advice, making his way to the costume trailer, just as Victor steps outside in a fashionable winter outfit.

“What do you think?” He asks Yuuri as he walks down the few steps. “Where is Yakov?”

“He went back to the office,” Yuuri says and looks Victor up and down. “Don’t you have this exact same coat at home?”

“Do I?” Victor frowns and looks down at the piece of clothing. “Hm. I have so many. I should look through them again and donate some. My scene is up next, do you want to watch?”

Yuuri nods. “I’d love to.”

“Then let’s go.” Victor takes Yuuri’s hand and takes him across the set, far away enough from the fans to keep the scenes of the film a secret. The more Yuuri sees of it, the more he realises how many people it actually takes on the set alone to make this film. In the past, Victor had told him a few times that the actors were by far not the most important people on set, and now Yuuri can see what his fiancé has been talking about. The actors make up only a small percentage of the people involved, and making a film is hard work. In the end, the actors will take the credit for all these people, whether they like it or not.

“People are looking at us,” Victor hums, squeezing Yuuri’s hand. “Finally, I get to show you off a bit.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes. “There’s nothing to show off,” he says, but blushes at Victor’s tender words nonetheless. “Do people here know that we are engaged?”

“I don’t keep it a secret,” Victor replies. “I think they know by now. But the crew is notoriously trustworthy. They all had to sign NDAs.”

The moment they reach the set, a middle-aged woman with short, grey hair walks towards them in relief. “There you are!” She says. “We’ve been waiting. Are you ready?”

“Yes, Claire,” Victor says. “Yuuri, this is our producer, Claire. Claire, this—”

“The fiancé, I know,” Claire says with a small smile. “Welcome to the set. Please take a seat, we want to get this scene done. And phones off,” she adds, looking especially at Victor, who looks back at her innocently.

“I have no idea who would dare not putting their phone on vibrate on your set,” he says and leads Yuuri to a free chair behind the camera, right next to Chris, who has taken off his winter coat and is sipping water from a bottle. “Watch me, will you?”

“Good luck,” Yuuri says and Victor quickly pecks his cheek before he joins the producer by the camera for some final talks about how to film the upcoming scene.

“Enjoying the view so far?” Chris asks as he puts the bottle down and leans back in his chair.

“It’s very interesting,” Yuuri says. “But Victor seems to be quite a handful to everyone here.”

“Oh, he is, absolutely,” Chris agrees without hesitation. “But trust me, Victor is an absolute professional. If he were not, they would not cast him again and again. He’s a terrific actor and he takes everything seriously. He listens to the producers. And I’m fairly sure he’s a little bit afraid of Claire,” he adds with a chuckle.

Yuuri snorts at that and watches as Victor discusses something with the producer, pointing at parts of the set. There is already a change about him, from Victor the cheerful private person to Victor the actor who is taking his job very seriously. It is something Yuuri has noticed about his fiancé before – when things matter, he is perfectly able to focus.

Eventually, Claire and Victor finish their talk and Victor steps onto the set right where the producer wants to have him, in front of the stairs leading up to the house they are using as a backdrop. Another actor joins him, the one that Yuuri has already seen in the makeup trailer. He’s playing Victor’s love interest, he remembers.

“Now we have to be quiet,” Chris says in a low voice as everyone around then gets ready for the first take. “And phones off.”

Yuuri reaches into his pocket once more to check if his phone is really off, just as Claire calls “Action!”

The shift in Victor happens in an instant.

He is no longer Victor Nikiforov, but the young English teacher Adrian Mason, on the way home from yet another frustrating date, running into the younger brother of his best friend. He is depressed, annoyed, his head hanging somewhat low, mindlessly bumping into people – of which one of them turns out to be Mila’s character’s brother, arms full with Christmas presents. They bump into each other, causing Victor’s character to almost slip on the fake ice and the other guy to drop all the presents. It is a classic scene, meant to introduce the characters to each other after not having met in a long time. It is a scene that could have happened just like that on an ordinary day, and yes, Victor himself is the type to bump into people like this. But as Yuuri watches him, Victor is not being himself, but another person entirely, becoming the man he is trying to portray.

Victor is a terrific actor. Yuuri has known that already, but he sees it confirmed once more.

They shoot the scene a second time, a third time, a fourth time, until Claire is satisfied and they can move on to the next scene. Victor searches for Yuuri’s eyes, who smiles and gives him a thumbs up.

“Chris, get your ass over here,” Claire calls and Chris gets up, stretching and putting his winter coat back on before he joins Victor in front of the camera.

There are many things to be considered when making a film, Yuuri thinks as he watches a young man bring Victor a bottle with water to drink so he won’t die of a heatstroke. Georgi walks over and fixes Victor’s makeup once more, making sure his forehead is not shiny with sweat.

It is hard work. All of it.

Yuuri pulls out his phone as it buzzes and quickly replies to Phichit’s text as someone sits down beside him in the chair that Chris has vacated and greets him.

“Hi there.”

Yuuri looks up, into the eyes of a handsome man that looks fairly familiar.

“You must be Yuuri,” the man says and holds out his hand. “I’m Will Pratchett. Victor’s been talking about you nonstop.”

Yuuri feels as if he had just swallowed a large chunk of ice.

Will Pratchett.

Victor’s ex-boyfriend.

“Y-Yes, hi,” Yuuri says and puts his phone down to shake the other man’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Oh the pleasure is all mine,” Will says and lets go of Yuuri’s hand after a moment. “Are you here to watch him work?” He asks and unscrews his bottle of water.

“Yes,” Yuuri says and feels stupid to answer the same way as before. “And he forgot his phone at home.”

“Yeah, he does that,” Will says and takes a large sip before he sighs in relief. “Filming in this weather is no fun, believe me, especially not Christmas films.” He puts the bottle down on the floor and crosses his legs. “You are a doctoral student, correct?”

Yuuri can’t hide his surprise at the fact that he knows, as Will immediately adds: “Victor talks about you all the time, and let me tell you, he is so proud. The first thing he did was to give us an overview of your PhD dissertation, whether we liked it or not.”

“Oh God,” Yuuri sighs and closes his eyes for a moment. “I’m very sorry. I will ask him to stop doing that.”

“It’s alright,” Will assures him. “He’s proud of you, and I can’t blame him for that. And he looks happy.”

Yuuri doesn’t know what to say to that, especially when the person he is talking to is Victor’s very own ex-boyfriend. It is not like he can go and agree, and accidentally imply that Victor was not happy in the past, possibly because of—

“It must be a bit awkward to talk to me about this, of all people,” Will laughs and scratches the back of his head. “But really, Victor is over the moon. Congratulations, by the way. When are you getting married?”

“We don’t know yet,” Yuuri says and manages to relax a bit as he realises that Will is not trying to lure him into some sort of trap. “I want to get my PhD done first, and there is this film, and the promotion tours and things like that. So probably next year.”

“Yeah, those promotion tours can mess up a schedule,” Will agrees. “My boyfriend and I have been trying to visit his family in Spain for what feels like ages but every time there’s work coming up.”

“I know that very well,” Yuuri says. “It’s the same with my work. There are always papers to grade and presentations to prepare for and then there is the writing process.”

“I’m really impressed,” Will says. “I would never have the patience. I went to college for one term and hated it. Acting is much better for me.”

Claire’s stern voice interrupts their conversation and they fall silent as the next scene is shot.

It is the first time Yuuri has met an ex-partner. Of course, he had thought about it in the past, what it would be like to run into one of Victor’s previous boyfriends. But now he finds it less scary than before – after all, one of them is married with kids, and the one right next to him seems nice enough. Just like Victor had said.

From somewhere behind Yuuri, a phone rings, and Claire explodes.

“VICTOR I SWEAR TO GOD IF THAT IS YOUR PHONE!”

“I’ll turn it off!!”

They lie awake on their backs the following morning, the sun shining onto their bed. Beside Yuuri, Victor types away on his phone, and Yuuri can hear him sigh. He looks to the side, back at the tweets that have greeted them on this fine morning. Yuuri has read them already, just a few of them, but that had already been enough.

@maybe-its-manuelneuer ok holy shit I went to the set of that gay christmas film today and i heard @m.babicheva talk to a guy that she called victors boyfriend WHAT DOES THAT MEAN

@victornikiforovstanclub @maybeitsmanuelneuer OH MY GOD WHAT????? DO YOU HAVE PICS

Yuuri does not read further than that. The original tweet has already been retweeted 30,000 times. There are countless replies and likes.

“It’s impressive that no one took a picture of you,” Victor says and locks his phone again, rolling over in bed to put his arm around Yuuri’s middle and to bury his face in Yuuri’s neck.

“Hmm.” Yuuri turns his head to kiss Victor’s hair. “Just you wait.”

The internet explodes on the day Yuuri visits Victor on set in Los Angeles.

They could have been more thoughtful, really, more careful, now that Yuuri thinks about it from the safety of Victor’s house, Makkachin’s head on his lap. In the background, he can hear Victor talk on the phone with Yakov in rapid Russian.

It had been only a kiss – sweet, innocent, right outside Victor’s trailer. Yuuri had brought Victor lunch, after Victor had complained to him via text that he did not like the catering’s food that day. And so, Yuuri had made him a bento box with leftovers from the night before, and had taken one of Victor’s less impressive cars to the studio. Thanks to Yakov, he had gotten in without any issue.

Judging by the quality of the photo, someone must have taken it from a distance, with a phone. Victor has told him that they were looking for the culprit already, but even if they found them, it would not change anything.

The picture is out in the world, and there are paparazzi outside the gate to Victor’s home.

Somehow, the media already knows Yuuri’s name and occupation.

A call with his boss had eased Yuuri’s anxiety soon enough – after all, it was no crime to date a celebrity, and the university assured him that this would not have any influence on his upcoming defence of his dissertation.

At least that.

Inessa calls, and Yuuri’s mother calls, too, asking if they are alright.

Yuuri feels surprisingly content with the reveal of their relationship, if he is being honest. The next months, he knows, will be hard. But the media’s interest will die down soon enough, he is sure.

After all, who is he, but an ordinary person?

Victor kisses the top of his head after finishing his call. “What are you thinking about?” He asks softly.

Yuuri looks up at him. “My PhD.”

“You will do great,” Victor says sincerely.

The defence is in two weeks.

“I hope so.”

Precisely two weeks later, Yuuri is ready to throw up into the plastic plants outside the conference room.

His hands are shaking, his palms are sweaty, and his heart is beating rapidly in his chest. His shirt feels too tight, his shoes too small, his glasses slippery on his nose. Yuuri knows he is just imagining it all, that it is just due to stress, but he does not manage to calm down. His defence is over, and the board is discussing whether or not to award him his PhD.

If not, then all the hard work would be for nothing.

Victor stands beside him, silent, not touching him. Yuuri does not like to be touched in such a situation, and thus, he respects it. Down the hallway, he can hear a bunch of girls whisper to themselves, and hears the iconic sound of an iPhone camera taking a picture. Neither of them care.

Yuuri shivers, and suddenly throws himself into Victor’s arms, burying his face in his chest.

“You did so well, Yuuri,” Victor hums into his hair and wraps his arms around him. “You were terrific.”

“I can’t breathe,” Yuuri whispers, but the fact he can speak says otherwise. “I fucked up. I gave the wrong answers. I made absolutely no sense. I will be out of a job any moment now. I can’t—”

The door to the conference room opens and one of Yuuri’s supervisors steps outside, greeting Victor with a small smile.

“Doctor Katsuki?”

In Victor’s arms, Yuuri freezes.

He turns around very slowly, his eyes as wide as the woman’s smile.

“Well, won’t you come in to receive your degree, Doctor Katsuki?”

Yuuri bursts into tears.

“Y’ALL MY BEST FRIEND GOT HIS PHD TODAY!” Phichit screams from the top of his lungs and the entire bar cheers wildly.

“Oh my god, Phichit,” Yuuri groans and buries his face in his hands.

Victor rubs his back sympathetically. “He’s just happy for you,” he says in good humour. “And so am I. I’m going to be the husband of a man with a doctorate!”

“A man with a doctorate that will never make as much money as you,” Yuuri reminds him weakly and lifts his head again, grabbing his drink and taking a large sip.

“Give it time,” Victor says. “Think about that job offer you got.”

Yuuri had, after receiving his diploma and shaking many, many hands, received a job offer at the Centre of Literary History. Not the kind of job he had considered, but interesting enough and with a fairly good salary. All he has to do now is saying yes.

And yet, Yuuri hesitates.

There is a future to plan, he thinks as he sits beside Victor in their favourite bar in the city, watching Phichit stand on the table and sing karaoke into the microphone, Chris sitting in front of him, entirely smitten. A future in which he will be married to Victor. In which Victor will finish his degree, and then maybe go back to acting or not. A future in which they will travel and see the world, in which they might have more dogs, perhaps even children.

The future does not seem as scary anymore, now that he has Victor.

He takes Victor’s hand under the table and squeezes it gently.

Victor squeezes back.

Filming ends in early October, followed by a promotion tour, interviews, and many more things that Yuuri, as an outsider to the industry, would have never considered to be part of the business. But Victor is thriving, and that alone makes him smile.

The promotion tour does not help with the media, whose attention is still very much on them, and making it impossible to plan what is the most important to them both.

And so, on a cloudy Saturday morning, they wake up, look at each other, and come to an unspoken understanding.

The ceremony is quiet, calm, and peaceful, with only Yakov, Phichit, and Chris present in person and their families via FaceTime as Victor and Yuuri exchange their wedding rings and speak their vows in the registrar’s office. It is simple, private, and just for themselves before they can have a bigger wedding in Hasetsu, next year, in Spring, when the cherry blossoms bloom.

It is not what anyone would consider ideal for someone like Victor, who likes to show off and be flamboyant and terribly, terribly extra. But it is theirs, Yuuri thinks as he kisses Victor and wraps his arms around his neck.

And Victor is his.

In the car, Yuuri nervously plays with the ring on Victor’s finger. They are almost there, and he can already see the large crowds of fans, can see the photographers with their large cameras.

He will be alright. He knows that.

It is just all very, very new.

“All eyes will be on you, Doctor Katsuki,” Victor chuckles and quickly pecks his cheek. “They will wonder how I managed to score a beauty like you.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Yuuri chuckles, as Victor’s antics always ease his anxiety. “Victor, they are here because of you. It’s the premiere. No one will pay attention to me. I’m nowhere as interesting as you.”

“Oh, I beg to differ,” Victor says seriously.

It is useless to argue with him, Yuuri knows that, and so, he does not even try.

The film is already being talked about everywhere, with some expert being sure that it will be nominated for an Oscar, even. When he had asked Victor about it, Victor had merely shrugged and told him that he did not really care. More important, he had said, were the results at the box office, as they would be donated to an LGBTQ+ charity.

Helping people would always be more important to him than his own gain, and Yuuri loved him for it.

“I’m just glad Phichit will be here tonight as well,” Yuuri says and brushes invisible dirt from his trousers. The suit had been a gift from Victor, terribly expensive, and Yuuri had not dared to look at the price tag.

But he looks very good in it. Yuuri won’t deny that. He feels comfortable in his own skin when he wears it, and according to Victor, it shows.

“Once we are past the photographers, we’ll be fine,” Victor assures him as the car slows down and comes to a stop at the very beginning of the red carpet. “Ready, my love?”

Yuuri glances down at their joined hands.

“Ready.”

The driver opens the door and Victor gets out first, right into the frenzy of the flashing cameras and into the noise of screaming fans, calling his name. Yuuri follows him, eyes fixed on his husband, on his smile and the reassurance in his eyes. Not once does Victor let go of his hand, not even as he walks over to his fans and signs autographs and poses for a few pictures before they head down to the screen covered in brand names where pictures will be taken. Victor walks the red carpet like the professional that he is, holding Yuuri’s hand tightly in his own as they step before the cameras. Only there he briefly lets go of his hand to wrap his arm around his waist instead, and he presses a brief kiss to the top of his head.

Despite the attention, the noise, and the flashing lights, Yuuri feels safe.

“Is this your boyfriend, Victor?” A photographer calls. “Why are you showing him now and not earlier? What do you say about the rumours concerning your relationship?”

Victor looks down at Yuuri and smiles. “He’s not my boyfriend,” he says, loud and clearly to hear for everyone around as he takes Yuuri’s hand. “He’s my husband.”

Yuuri chuckles, and Victor brings his hand up to his lips to press a kiss to his knuckles, ignoring the frenzy of flashing cameras around them and the journalists crying for more information.

They make it to the front pages of the papers the next day, the headlines shouting it from the rooftops that Victor Nikiforov has been snatched from the world for good, is now a married man. What it could do to his career and reputation, they wonder?

Neither Victor nor Yuuri read the articles written about them, far too busy with themselves, with their lives, and with the future they will have together.

Neither of them would want it any other way.