Moments That Stay

Chapter Art!

"Are you being deadass right now, dude?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're acting like a total hypocrite."

Yuuri felt his left eye twitch as he contemplated a rational response, violently waving both hands in the air in an attempt to suitably convey his frothing, overflowing frustration.

"I was sixteen and going through a crisis, Peach! You're fifteen, and, and-"

"Fifteen and three quarters, thank you, and what you mean to say is 'I don't actually have a good reason, I'm just being overprotective'! God, everyone at school drinks. What's the big deal? Get off your high horse, Yuuri."

Peach's face was flushed, eyebrows furrowed causing deep indents to form on the bridge of his button nose. Bottle of vodka in hand, Yuuri pushed past his best friend and marched towards the kitchen sink. He unscrewed the dingy metal lid and made direct eye contact with the younger boy.

"Oh, don't you do it Katsuki. I paid sixty dollars for that shit-"

"Why in god's name would you dish out that kind of money for a single handle of cheap-ass vodka? Are you insane?"

Peach huffed and took one step forward and pointed a finger towards Yuuri accusingly, legs planted firmly atop the hardwood floor as if he were one second from charging forward to snatch the bottle away from the other boy.

"You mean to tell me you've never had to pay a service fee? It's not like I can just buy it myself, you know! Beggars can't be choosers."

Ok, well he had a point there. Yuuri hadn't been dealt a price that exceedingly steep at the time of his own personal escapade the year prior, but he overpaid, nonetheless.

Despite his distemper, Yuuri knew he was being unreasonable, that it wasn't a calamity for a teenager to have a drink here and there, especially in America. As a matter of fact, Yuuri had personally observed several high schoolers drinking gas station wine-coolers as if they were water on more than one occasion.

In all reality, he should be counting his lucky stars that Peach wasn't vaping or experimenting with hard drugs like many of his peers undoubtedly were. Yuuri could see that the situation wasn't critical. That logical line of thought didn't change the fact that, at the end of the day, his best friend's well-being was priority number one, even if that concern was cause for animosity.

Being the older of the two, Yuuri felt it was his responsibility to be the voice of reason, but he wasn't Phichit's mom. He had no real authority here, and snitching on his best friend to someone who did, their coach, for example, would only lead to further arguments. He was being a hypocrite, after all, having made the same questionable decision fairly recently.

"Ok. I get it, I'm being annoying, but Jesus, Peach. How would you feel if you were in my shoes? Wouldn't you be worried about me if I got drunk while you were, like, seven countries and a taxi ride away?"

The younger boy's expression softened, wrinkles smoothing as the enmity died from his eyes. Yuuri chewed on his lower lip as a heavy silence swallowed the room. In a moment of clarity, he chose not to pour the bottle out, reluctantly screwing the lid back on and holding it out as a peace offering, enduringly awaiting Phichit's response. He could only hope his outburst hadn't ruined their carefully crafted bond.

"I'm sorry. I've been feeling majorly isolated lately…and if I'm being honest, I got really lonely while you were gone. I bought the stupid bottle hoping it would give my classmates decent incentive to come over. You've seen those trashy teen flicks, right? Well, I'm the 'weird foreign kid', tried and true, baby. it's hard to get anyone to acknowledge me past a cursory glance."

Yuuri wanted to wrap him up in a reassuring hold, but it didn't seem like Peach was finished saying his piece. Not wanting to come off dismissive, he simply nodded in understanding, a reticent show of support.

"They don't bully me or anything, but I'm consistently excluded, and paired with all the other bullshit, the stress is starting to eat at me. When you're here, it doesn't bother me, but when I'm on my own like this… I mean- and I'm not asking you to stay here or skip competitions or anything. I'd never do that! I'm just trying to figure it out, yknow?"

Yuuri did know. He hadn't gone to high school in the states, having graduated early back in Japan, but being a nervous wreck had more than one disadvantage. People tend to think of anxiety as a mild disorder with little consequence. They believe it can be cured with a 'mind over matter' attitude, shrugging off its corollaries as mild and inconsequential. That belief system worked to single Yuuri out in social situations, leaving him an outcast more often than he'd like to admit. The fact that the bubbly, sociable, compassionate Phichit was being excommunicated for something as trivial as his nationality was deplorable, but not outlandish. Kids were cruel.

"I'm sorry… It was my fault. I've been irritable as all hell lately, with all the Viktor bullshit, and my diet, I'm just- well, that's no excuse for the theatrics I pulled. I love you, and I'm always gonna be here to talk, even when I'm a thousand miles away. Know that I will one hundred percent humiliate those jackoffs in front of your entire school. Just say the word, and I'll make up an sordid affair or something on the spot."

Peach's wobbly frown transformed into a mischievous smirk, his whole stance loosening as the defensive air around the two disappeared.

"Wanna give a demonstration? I'm not sure I recall you being a talented actor…"

Dizzy with relief, Yuuri rolled his shoulders back, stretching in large exaggerated motions as if preparing for battle before forcing his face to grow blank, devoid of any expression. Suddenly, he dropped to his knees, tugging on the cuff of Phichit's distressed mom jeans.

"What's wrong with you?! You- you gave me fucking gonorrhea- and head lice! It was bad enough having an itchy scalp, but then the itch spread down there… well… Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is going to the urologist for lice?!"

Unable to maintain a straight face long enough to continue the charade, Yuuri burst into a fit of giggles, dragging his best friend to the floor with him, where the pair rolled around, struggling to breathe through bouts of uncontrollable laughter.

The pair stayed up all night rewatching the entire 'The King And The Skater' franchise together, resulting in a late start and an unhappy coach. Ciao Ciao was clearly in a mood, because he demanded they run kill drills for far longer than necessary. Yuuri wasn't complaining. Cardio is cardio, and he'd been dreading having to force himself to run laps after practice. The drills saved him the trouble. When lunch time came around, he and Peach were dead on their feet, practically stumbling to their lockers to grab the lunches they had packed mid-movie marathon. Conditioning days were always brutal, but it was one of the scarce occasions they got to practice together for more than a few hours due to their conflicting school schedules.

"That's a sorry excuse for a lunch. I could have sworn you packed the same thing I did… How are you gonna make it through your free? You'll be running on empty."

Damn, he'd hoped Peach would be too exhausted to take notice of the sleight of hand trick he'd proudly practiced to replace his panini with a protein bar. Ok, that's overkill, he had simply tossed the sandwich and slipped a quest bar into the box in its place. He still had baby carrots and half a banana, so it's not like he was starving.

"Oh, I ate it while you were in the shower. We were already running late, so I just grabbed what I could find laying around in the pantry and shoved it in my bag."

"Shit, ok. Wanna go halvsies?"

"Nah, I'm good. I feel sick from all the reruns. I thought Ciao Ciao was gonna have to scrape my body off the ice after my last sit spin." Yuuri snorted.

"Heard that." Phichit groaned through a mouthful of mozzarella. God, what Yuuri would do to eat some cheese… fuck, don't dwell on it, he reminded himself. There's no point in lusting after a panini he couldn't have.

"Were you on Insta or Twitter at all this weekend?" The Thai skater questioned, dragging Yuuri back into the land of the living.

"You know I don't do social media during competitions. Why? If it's about me, I don't want to know."

"No, no-" Peach paused to take a swig out of his metallic water bottle, nearly choking on the oily bread he was hawkishly gnawing on.

"It's about Viktor. People are losing their fucking minds over it, dude. I can't believe you didn't hear about it from one of the other skaters, I mean, did you keep your earbuds in the whole time or something?"

Yuuri raised a brow, shrugging as he peeled open the protein bar's crinkly blue packaging. "I get tunnel vision when I'm all stressed and tweaked out about a competition. My anxiety was killer this time around. I don't even remember what I ate, if I'm being honest."

The stupid foil was clinging to the protein bar's sticky exterior. He continued his assault on the snack as Peach explained.

"Ja, so Skate Daily posted a pic of Viktor with some guy on his arm, right? Get this, he was entering y'all's hotel with him at, like, one in the morning. The implications are obvious, and the press totally ran with it."

He desisted mid-rant in order to finish the sandwich off, shoving the last of its crust into his mouth and licking the leftover pesto from the tips of his fingers. Yuuri remained silent, curious but circumspect.

"The thing is, Russia doesn't fuck around with those accusations, they treat every rumor as if it were a fact. People are throwing around the 'G' word."

"So…People are claiming he's gay? I should care, why?" Yuuri mumbled, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. What was up with the tone Phichit was using? Had he forgotten that Yuuri wasn't straight either? Did he have a problem with same sex relationships all of a sudden? His best friend must have noticed the shift in his demeanor as his eyes grew as wide as saucers, hands darting out to grab hold of the boy's shoulders.

"No, I didn't mean it like that! I don't care who sleeps with who…but the RSF and ISU might."

That made sense. There were plenty of horror stories dating back to the early sixties of promising skaters losing their career over 'scandalous' allegations, and the like.

"His career might be royally fucked because of some stupid rumor. I know he's a jackass, he deserves whatever shit-show befalls him, but what if the federations start making an issue of it for other skaters, too? I know your bi, and I'm pretty sure Chris is gay-"

Yuuri shot him a look.

"Oh, come on. I'm stupid, but not blind. He literally blew up the group chat last week thirsting over Andrew Van-whatever the fuck."

Admittedly, he had neglected to check their text chain. Peach and Chris were both very sociable creatures, meaning they sent at least one hundred messages in the GC everyday, and who has the time to keep up with that? Looking away for a single moment means returning to total chaos, and Yuuri was stressed out enough as is.

"Ok, ok. I mean, yeah, but what are the chances he's actually gay? There's tons of pictures that prove that claim false, actually. At the very least, he's bi. Didn't you see the pictures from Skate America? He was all over that blonde chick in the club."

With a contemplative hum of agreement, Phichit closed his now empty lunchbox and rose from the quaint metal bench they shared. Popping the last of his baby carrots past his chapped lips, Yuuri did the same.

The remainder of practice was brutal, especially on a nearly empty stomach, but Yuuri made do. Ciao Ciao knew how competitive he was, and that his student was out for blood, so out of kindness, he pushed the boy past his limits until he was nothing more than a sweaty, shaky mess crumbled atop the rink's frigid landing.

"Tomorrow I expect you to be on time, sí?"

"Yes coach." The boys groaned in synchronized prostration.

On the journey home, Peach made a pit stop at the Quik-Trip two blocks down from their shared apartment, complaining of fatigue and insisting he'd collapse unless he got a bit of food in him asap. As his best friend surveyed the snack section scrupulously, Yuuri's eyes wandered to the various pre-cooked meals stacked to form neat rows inside the walk-in fridge. As if taunting him, an emphatic growl rang out, his stomach being the culprit. He shouldn't have even gone in the store… but this was an opportunity to prove something to himself. He had full control over what he put in his body. In order to eat, he had to first buy something, and then willingly put it into his mouth. He had control and autonomy, and he'd practice it readily, here and now.

"Ready to go? Or did you want a snack too? They have a two for one deal on the poptarts!"

"I'm still queasy, no worries. I think I'm gonna grab a drink, though, if that's cool. I'll meet you outside in a sec."

Diet Coke in one hand, loosely dangling key ring in the other, Yuuri rejoined Phichit for the remainder of their commute. They walked and chatted until they reached the velvety forest green door of their apartment. '107' was home, at least in Detroit. There was no Vicchan to greet him, no spattering clatter or tiny claws on the hardwood floor, but he'd grown used to the silence that greeted him upon entering into the small complex.

"I'm gonna take out the trash. Did you empty the bathroom wastebasket this morning? This bitch is overflowing." Noted Peach, shaking the bin as he pulled and tugged at the bag lodged within it.

"Yeah, my bad. I can handle it if you want me to?"

"Nah, I'm on trash duty this week, you're on dishes. I'd rather die than wash another spoon."

Yuuri giggled and sauntered to his room, grateful for his friend's lighthearted attitude. He was dying to change out of his sweaty workout gear. The tightly woven spandex peeled from his skin with little resistance, having grown looser on his frame in recent weeks. Shuffling through his messy closet, the boy pulled a baggy orange tee from its hanger, carelessly allowing it to catch on the textured rubber meant to hold it in place. Clicking his tongue, Yuuri was forced to gently guide the fabric off of the plastic frame, disproportionality irritated by the minor inconvenience. He needed to get his attitude under control.

"Yuuri!"

"One sec, I'm changing!"

"I didn't ask. Get your ass out here."

He slipped the top over his ruffled hair with a groan, accidentally pushing the frame of his glasses into the sweat-sensitized skin in his haste. Feet bare, Yuuri padded into the kitchen to see what the boy wanted. Instead of speaking, Phichit pointed his finger into the half empty trash bag. Apparently, he had separated the overflowing heap into two containers, gloved hands coated with last night's crumbs. Hadn't he just said he had no qualms handling the trash?

"Uh… whatcha doing, bud?"

"Don't get cute with me. If you play dumb, we'll have a real issue. What is this?"

Reluctantly, Yuuri peered into the trash can, only to be met with the forgotten sandwich he had hidden under several layers of paper towels earlier in the day. Shit. He'd been caught in a lie, by Peach, the living polygraph, no less.

"It's… a sandwich."

"Uhuh, I can see that. Care to explain why you trashed perfectly good food and then lied about it? You're one of the most frugal people I've ever met, why would you waste perfectly good food?"

The look in Phichit's eyes told Yuuri all he needed to know. There were several ways he could go about this, and the outcome depended upon how well he could bullshit, and if he was willing to do so. Clearly, he had been silent for too long, as Peach decided to speak up once more instead of awaiting whatever babble Yuuri was about to spill.

"Is this about what Viktor said? Are you… starving yourself or something?"

Yuuri flinched. Bullseye, babes. He might as well be made of plexiglass, with how transparent he felt in that moment. The look of pity that replaced any trace of indignation on Phichit's face made his stomach churn in discontent.

"Oh, Yuuri… Who gives a shit what he thinks? You're fine as is, don't hurt yourself for someone too obsessed with himself to properly see anyone else…Why didn't you tell me? Don't you trust me?"

Yes, he did trust Peach, but that didn't mean he was obligated to share all the gory details of what went on in his head. Some things aren't meant to be shared. Yuuri would have been aghast at the unsightly acrimony bubbling in his gut if he hadn't been preoccupied digging ugly crescents into his palms. They'd already argued the night prior, digging himself deeper into the trenches of petulance would do neither of them any good. The older skater took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain respectful and steady as he spoke.

"I need you to drop it, please. I know you care, and I appreciate it, but I'm fine. I'm about to be an adult. I can handle myself- and this isn't about Viktor-"

A pulsating throb behind his eyelids. Was it rage, or something deeper? Sorrow? It was far too selfish a sentiment to be labeled as such.

"I mean, can't I just be Yuuri? Why does everything circle back to Viktor? Have you stopped, for even a second, to think about the way it makes me feel when you assume he's all I think about? I'm allowed to diet. I'm allowed to-"

"Oh, so we're doing this again?" Phichit interrupted, tossing the half empty garbage bag on the floor, its contents spilling out across the white tile abruptly.

"Excuse me?"

"Yuuri, I know you don't need help, but wouldn't it be better if you at least gave yourself the option? Why do you torture yourself like this? Needing reassurance, or comfort, or whatever- doesn't make you weak."

Trembling. He had no right to shake.

Yuuri, unworldly, it seems, exhibited no restraint. In a state, he opened his mouth, eager to spit out another heated retort, but Peach was having none of it.

"No, you know what? It's one thing to hurt yourself over this crap, I can't fault you for being self destructive. We all are, sometimes…but you've made a nasty habit out of hurting me, hurting Ciao Ciao, and for what? I'm sick of it. We care about you! Jesus Christ, Yuuri, The martyr act is getting so fucking old!"

Knuckles white, palms sweaty, and heart racing, Yuuri fought back tears. Why was his best friend, someone he would literally jump into traffic for completely disregarding his boundaries? He felt so betrayed, so bitter that he couldn't stop his voice from coming out far louder than intended.

"I didn't ask you to care! You chose to! That's a low blow, bringing Celestino's name into this. You're trying to hurt me, is that it? Great job! Well-fucking-done! I entrusted you with something, and you used it against me. You really expect me to trust you after that? I don't owe you 24/7 admission into my mind!"

A crackle cut through the sound of Yuuri's watery outburst. Peach had stepped onto a discarded can while trying to push past him, tears forming messy rivulets as they trickled down his flushed cheeks. Catching his breath, Yuuri stepped aside, allowing his roommate to grab the old athletic bag settled atop their water-stained dining room table. His heart would have broken at the sight of Phichit's anguish, had the spite taken a step back and allowed logic to bleed through the cloud of rage burning brightly in the back of his throat.

A creak, a clack, a clatter, and a bellowing, guttural cry. To see it was one thing, but to be the cause of it was another.

"You don't want me to care? Lovely! Have fun in an empty apartment. I don't know why you changed, or when, but you did. Go to hell, Yuuri."

Then there was white noise, the absence of life, and remorse. A gentle breeze filtered past the sheer seafoam curtains above the balanony landing, bidding Phichit goodbye in Yuuri's stead. He stood still, accepting the moment for what it was. A mistake. That's not all there was to it, though. Judgments had been made, a common underlying cause was apparent.

Pride percolated to nothing, and his firmly set shoulders folded in on themselves feebly. Another beat of absence; the coast was clear. Yuuri didn't cry, he had no right. A vacancy had colonized the space his glass heart previously occupied. The boy allowed his eyes to slowly assess the room's maimed decor. The quaint bamboo lamp Mari had gifted him was the only casualty of any consequence, the rest of the clutter was disposable, their messy visage easily mended with a pair of gloves and a scrub brush. When had it been ravaged? Perhaps during one of Peach's 'clatters'. Yuuri adored that lamp. He pensively cleared its doleful remnants up before tending to the trash carpeting the kitchenette.

He spent the afternoon cleaning, a million miles away from Earth and a ten minute walk from the rink.

The day after tomorrow, he would turn eighteen, and would do so in the solitude of his empty apartment. Whispers of tiny claws and gentle barks haunted him throughout the night, his subconscious pointing out the obvious. He'd have done anything to hold Vicchan in his arms, to feel safe for ten minutes as he bundled the little ball of warmth into a tight hug. Still, not a single tear.

Peach wasn't scheduled to skate the next day, allowing Yuuri the faintest peace of mind as he stumbled into the rink, half asleep and wildly disoriented. He had never been able to sleep in an empty home. Even a goldfish would have been decent company compared to the eerie static and crackling wallpaper. Determined to get through practice despite his aching eyes and cramping limbs, Yuuri practiced perfection. If he could fool the ones who knew him, the version of him that cried after flubbing a jump, that couldn't order a drink at an unfamiliar cafe without getting nauseous, then he could delude the whole world into believing he was someone special.

It took fifteen minutes of smiling in the mirror, carefully running through different brow movements and pupil placements in the locker room for him to feel confident in his ability to run the charade by his coach. Yuuri hadn't realized the ease with which one could manipulate someone. He did so with no ill will, and knew any trace of guilt would ruin the illusion.

The realization was bittersweet. Being a long time fan of romance novels, a disgustingly hopeless romantic at heart, Yuuri had read the sentence "The sparkle in his eyes proved to me that our love was real!" a million times. He had discovered the secret behind pivotal figures and their boundless charisma in an empty locker room, in less than fifteen minutes... How many others had done the same? Power without reason led to despotism, and if he weren't an empath through and through, it surely would have gone to his head.

Ciao Ciao was none the wiser, pushing him towards the goals they had set in the typical fashion, even encouraging him to attempt a quad flip, which led to him promptly busting his ass. Laughing it off, Celestino clapped and told him that he nearly had it.

Yuuri was sent home that evening with a small cardboard box lovingly wrapped up in gold foil and a sealed envelope. Spirits lifted, the boy decided to hold out on opening it until his actual birthday, elated that someone in Detroit had thought of him. Mari and his parents always called and sent gifts through the mail and he and Phichit would eat cake and binge watch whatever they were obsessed with at that point in time, so it wasn't like he was neglected… but he still hadn't grown used to holidays away from home.

There would be no cake this time, as there would be nobody to eat it with. Yuuri reluctantly checked his phone after showering and changing into a clean pair of clothes. He'd been avoiding checking any notifications like the plague since yesterday evening. He didn't know what would be worse, receiving an angry text, or not receiving one at all.

One missed message.

Chris: Happy early birthday 🎉🎂!! You're one of the big kids now!

Yuuri: Thanks, Chris :)!

They hadn't been in contact since their last assignment together in Russia. Yuuri assumed he'd grown too busy to maintain the schedule they'd formed, texting back and forth at least once a day. Viktor was back in his life, after all. Regardless, he knew they'd remain distant acquaintances at worst, considering Chris's warm personality. It was hard to imagine the older skater doing anything with acerbity.

Chris: Any crazy plans? You've gotta take pics if you go to the club! Your fans would eat that shit up. ✨

Yuuri: Nahhh, I'm staying at home. I don't mix well with crowds 🤷‍♀️.

Chris: Aww, that's too bad, Mon Cher. Get Phichit to take some candid shots, then. You need to update your Twitter more often. Sponsors like when their athletes are involved and take initiative.

Yuuri: Haha, ok.

Peach wouldn't be here, but Chris didn't need to know that. Well, he could set a timer on his phone and make it look candid, but just the thought of doing so made Yuuri feel like a conceited twat.

Yuuri: I'll see what I can do! Thanks for the advice :((

Yuurikatsuki: She's twelve lmao give her a break

Yuurikatsuki: You're a horrible brother 😭

Kiyo_ohkay: Take that back or I'll CRY

Yuurikatsuki: Damn, sounds rough 🤷‍♀️ text me when your done tho !

Kiyo_ohkay: RUDE

Kiyo_ohkay: you're best friend is dyin over here and that's all you have to say ;((

Kiyo_ohkay: message me back bastard

Kiyo_ohkay: Yuuuuuri :((

YuuriKatsuki: I was brushing my teeth oops

Yuurikatsuki: Aww I was just playing :((

Yuurikatsuki: Hmm ok

Yuurikatsuki: We are eating under the stairs tho

Kiyo_ohkay: Sure! Are you otw to school yet??

Yuurikatsuki: Leaving rn! Meet me at yours?

Kiyo_ohkay: Ok ok

Finally, as if testing himself, Yuuri paused and assessed. No tears, still not a single sniffle. These were happy memories, after all. Satisfied but far from comfortable, he exited out of the app, tenderly setting his phone face down on the bed and rising to his feet in search of something he could wear for the remainder of the day. Sweats sounded great. The sleeve of his faded Christmas sweater was peeking through the closet doors, tantalizing him with its soft curves and gentle slopes.

Chris had the right idea, though…If Yuuri actually craved success to the extent in which he privately boasted, then he'd better be prepared to show it, even on his days off, rain or shine, holidays and weekends.

A white turtleneck, ribbed and stiff at the collar, fresh out of the Amazon packaging it had recently arrived in. A pair of thrifted black slacks, the ones that hugged his hips comfortably. Yuuri switched out one of the earrings lining the ridge of his upper ear, replacing it with a thick gold ring that glinted beneath the lamplight. He'd need to tie the shade in elsewhere, otherwise it would look tacky and out of place… at least, that's what Elle magazine advised. A short, glittering chain around his neck, and a belt to tie it together, cinching him up agreeably. Footwear was an afterthought, so he settled on whichever pair of dress shoes littering the closet floor were the least scuffed.

Yuuri had recently given in and bought a pair of gold framed glasses, for banquets and other media heavy goings-ons. Would those work well with the ensemble? If not, he'd have to wear contacts because the bulky blue frames he normally wore were a far cry from fashionable, however, if he elected to go with the new pair, he risked coming off as a tryhard. Coco Chanel famously stated "Before you leave the house, you should look in the mirror and remove one item". Yes, he had done his homework. Going in blind seemed to be the best option. It's not like he needed to pick out any details, besides maybe street signs and avenue exits. Yuuri knew his way around the area well enough to get by.

The whole dressing sequence took around twenty minutes, most of that time spent with Yuuri mixing and matching different tops and bottoms, taking breaks to skeptically eye himself in the mirror. The image refracted back in a morphed manner, almost like a funhouse seeing glass had been snuck into the apartment. From one minute to the next, he appeared to be an entirely different person. There were bags under his eyes, his nose was too wide. No, his nose was now too narrow but his lips were deceptively modest. Has he gained weight? Why did the slacks seem tighter than they had been a week prior?

Jesus Christ, have his eyes always been so off-puttingly large? Hey, Area 51? We caught a straggler, where should we bring him? No, there was no spaceship on scene but we could double check the discovery site- y'know, just to be sure. E.T phone home, or whatever. Yuuri laughed. That would make for a good caption… he could play around with that insecurity.

Yuuri's little trip to the town was embarrassing in more ways than one. He was not a 'selfie' type of guy, that was Phichit's job, but here he was, in downtown Detroit, snapping sneaky pictures of himself wherever the lighting struck his fancy. To make it a right and proper 'Birthday Shoot', he begrudgingly stopped by a quaint bakery with a luminous burgundy storefront. 'Astoria Pastry Shop' seemed to be a fine establishment, if not a little intimidating and above his pay grade. He walked into the unfamiliar building, steps tactical, taking care not to draw any attention to himself. Yes, this store would suit his needs perfectly. Knowing that the variety didn't matter, the boy guided the clerk's attention to an attractive vanilla cupcake, which just happened to be his least favorite flavor. Good, less temptation.

"Your total is 8.75$!"

Yuuri nodded politely, fishing for his wallet in the back pocket of his slacks. Pulling out a ten dollar bill, he muttered thanks and turned to leave.

"Um, excuse me?"

He halted his hasty getaway. Was she talking to him? There's a good chance she wasn't and he'd look like a moron if he turned around and-

"Sir?"

Gingerly, he spun to face her, worried she'd think him a fool, but all he was met with was an expectant gaze.

"Could I… Well, are you seeing anyone? If not, could I maybe get your number?" Blurted the petite brunette situated behind the counter.

She was adorable, soft and delicate, demure like a spotted fawn. Her freckles stood against the pale flesh they stippled, each one looking like a solitary star. Yuuri nearly choked on his own saliva trying to formulate a response.

"That's- that's really sweet…but I don't really have the time for anything but my career, right now."

The poor thing visibly wilted. He hadn't even meant to turn her down. What harm could it do, offering her his company? It's not like she had knelt down and proposed. This was his first time being openly propositioned and the unfamiliarity of the situation spiked his anxiety in a terrible way. Did he look like a self important prick? She was too good for him, with her carafes of silk and pouty peach lips. What kind of guy passes up an offer like that?

"Then…Could I give you mine anyways? Just in case you change your mind?"

"Uh, sure."

Rejuvenated, the stranger darted below the register, tearing off the corner of a receipt and jotting down the ten mystical digits. Her enthusiasm was precious, warming Yuuri's chest and setting a handful of butterflies free in his stomach, their scaled wings battering against his insides ferociously.

"Here! My names Genevieve, by the way, but feel free to call me Jenna. You?"

Yuuri took the paper from her outstretched hand, carefully tucking it into the lip of his phone case. His cheeks were probably sanguine, giving her the desired validation that he couldn't find the proper words for.

"Yuuri. It was a pleasure, Jenna."

Exiting the shop was revitalizing, like he was being given permission to breathe for the first time in years. How did people like Viktor handle the attention with such eloquence? Thoroughly spent, Yuuri decided against sticking around the glittering shops for his last leg of the 'shoot'. It was already 7:30, so as the sun made its habitual descent, he returned to the safety of his own home.

Despite knowing the apartment would be empty, Yuuri couldn't help the pang of disappointment that stirred within him as he stepped through the door's rusted frame.

It would seem he had been subconsciously holding onto unrealistic expectations. Peach was a good friend, saintly, even, but everyone has a limit, and Yuuri had overstepped. Turbulent and resigned, he set the dining room table up, aimlessly placing table weights and cutlery upon its surface in an attempt to make the space presentable. He then stuck a singular dull candle into his cupcake, lighting it with a splintered match and snapping two or three decent shots of himself pretending to eat the cupcake using his phone's timed photo feature. Ever the professional, Yuuri made sure to force a glint into his tired eyes and a smile upon his trembling lips.

They didn't turn out half bad, all things considered. Cold hands with pink fingers cleared the table, methodically returning each item to its original residence. The cupcake, having served its purpose, was mashed into the garbage disposal grate, wrapper and all.

Expectations met and hands idle, Yuuri changed into pajamas, then returned to the living room. He had the whole space to himself, why not use it? Despite his attempted persuasions, Yuuri knew the truth behind his refusal to retreat back into his bedroom. Throughout the evening, his eyes wandered to the door anytime a leaf blew past, skidding against the concrete below. Even the neighbor cat's bell served to capture his attention with utmost expediency.

No amount of hope or longing could change the reality of it. Yuuri Katsuki spent his birthday alone for the first time. The hanging clock struck 12, its toiling turning to background noise. A secondary sound joined the fray.

Like a living god, doused in gold limerence from slipper to crown, was Phichit. Immediately, Yuuri was scrambling to his feet, clutching his figurative pearls at the sudden intrusion.

"I tried to make it back in time."

After speaking, Phichit's lips pursed as he faded from the moment, eyes glossing, their sheen foreboding. Yuuri felt the need to grovel, for he prophesied a likely series of unfortunate words leaving those very same lips. He managed to jumble the words beyond recognition, forcibly erasing them from the realm of possibility and allowing Peach an opportunity to define his terms.

"You know, I trusted you enough to bypass censoring myself, to grant you uninhibited access to who I am as a person. I thought we were on the same page, dude. I know I'm not perfect, and you seemed fine with that."

An inhale, a twitch. Prismatic was the gleam now, dragging both of them into an unreachable subaqueous cave of crystal and sediment. Phichit's eyes offered one last warning.

"When you refuse to communicate with me, I look back on every single interaction we've had and wonder how much of yourself you've given in return. When I was giving 110%, how much were you offering?"

If empathy could be given a physical form, both of them would have been smothered to death by the shape it took within the room, flattened against the strained walls like roadkill. The cave would soon flood, the crystals turning to hazards pushed into the current by stormy ocean water.

"I'll ask you once, so don't waste my time spinning up a story out of pretty words I don't understand. Which

one is real? The Yuuri I've spent the last two years making memories with, the one who can't even order his own grande caramel-chai latte half the time, or the one who cares more about pride than his own family, about projecting himself as a modern day Cesar in the hopes of gaining some outsider validation?"

Family. Peach was still referring to them as two parts of the same whole. Who else was included, he wondered, and for how long would he remain relevant enough to be considered for the role? How ironic, the fact that his first instinct was to lie and pledge allegiance to remaining who he had once been.

"I don't know who I am, Peach. I can't give you an honest answer because there is no 'correct' solution. Would you- Would you believe me if I told you that in every version of Heaven and Earth, I'd choose you? You're my brother, my best friend. You have created much of what I am, and I wouldn't trade our bond for every nickel and dime that's ever been minted. Excuses aren't what you asked for, so I'll offer none."

"It's like you're speaking in tongues, Jesus Christ…"

Yuuri felt the blood drain from his face, anticipating another verbal lashing that would leave him destitute and bedridden, somberly swallowing the consequences of his poorly executed confession. Instead, Peach stepped into his bubble, an act of intimacy few were permitted to pursue. The younger boy rested his aching brown upon Yuuri's protruding sternum.

"What do you need from me? Why- Why have things changed? Am I not good enough for you anymore? I just want my best friend to get his head out of his ass and rely on me!"

He was crying, but not openly, face conveniently concealed between the wool of Yuuri's bulky sweater and the stability of hardened, bleached bone.

"It's so scary being on my own, surrounded by ignorant gentiles who know nothing of my story, nothing of my culture. You're the only person within a five thousand mile radius capable of seeing that… I'm a person too, not just some nameless NPC. Well… Ciao Ciao does too, but still…"

It was Yuuri's turn to suck it up, though the frothy tears undulating from his best friend's dewy eyes advised otherwise, coaxing him into a state of disrepair. Yuuri traced faint circles on Phichit's shoulder blades, something he had claimed his mother made a habit of as she read him 'Phikul Thong' before bed every night when he was just a boy.

"Peach, I'm sorry. I've said it so many times lately, but I know actions speak louder than words. The truth of the matter is just so hard to put into words, and I guess I expected you to figure it out on your own- which was an unrealistic expectation, obviously. I meant what I said in regards to not feeling comfortable sharing everything I think and feel, though. I trust you, I swear to god, I do. I'm just… too ashamed to voice the shit I've been grappling with aloud, even in my own company."

Wiping the perspiration from his cheeks with a forgotten cloth napkin, Phichit took a step back, looking into Yuuri's eyes for the first time since he had reappeared.

"That being said, you in no way earned the disrespect I showed you last night. If you're willing to allow me the chance, I solemnly swear, scout's honor, to work on my communication skills. All I ask in return is patience on your end."

"Scout's honor is pretty serious…but I need more insurance than that."

Nodding seriously, Yuuri's back went rigid as he awaited whatever demand Peach had prepared for him. Anything, anything, to make up with his best friend. God knows he'd be lost with Peach's nagging affections, his bright demeanor and optimistic outlook. They were Yin and Yang, the modern day disciples of a balanced philosophy.

"First; I require a pinky promise. That is non-negotiable. Second; We celebrate your birthday together after the GPF. Last- and most importantly, I get to reformat the posts you put up on Instagram and Twitter earlier. Do you, Yuuri Katsuki, accept my terms and conditions?"

"Yes, yes, and thank god. I knew they looked goofy as all hell."

"Oh, and by the way…"

Blissful relief permeated, Yuuri felt the aquamarine splendor take a step away, releasing him from its kind embrace.

"I'm coming with you. To Italy. Happy birthday?"