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“Yakov!”
Yakov resists the urge to fling himself out the window. He’s on the second floor, but there’s a tree to break his fall. He’ll survive the drop; he might not survive whatever Extra Bullshit™ Viktor decides to put him through today.
“Yura, ” Yakov hisses, turning to the blond teen currently occupying a chair in front of his desk. “Quickly, Vitya is coming. Go outside and distract him while I escape.”
“What the hell? No. You’re his manager, you deal with him.”
“Yura,” Yakov says gravely. “I do not have many years left to live. I will have even less if Vitya gives me a heart attack-”
“Yakov! ”
Yakov and Yuri’s heads snap towards the doorway of Yakov’s office where Viktor is currently slumped against the doorframe, panting.
“Yakov!” Viktor stumbles over and collapses in the chair beside Yuri. “I just had the best idea! I ran all the way here so I could tell you.”
“Oh, here we go,” Yuri mutters.
Viktor claps his hands together excitedly. “What if–for the music video for The Song–what if we rented out an ice rink?”
“An...entire ice rink.”
“Yes! Wouldn’t the flashmob be so much cooler on ice?”
Yakov’s eye twitches.
He’s halfway through yelling about the cost of an ice rink, the choreographers, the film crew, and the professional ice dancers that the’d have to hire when Viktor stops him.
“Yakov, I’ll pay for it out of pocket if you arrange everything,” Viktor says, face more serious than Yakov’s ever seen it. “Everything has to be perfect for my Yuuri.”
“Vitya, you could propose to that boy with a gum wrapper and he’d think it was perfect. Ice rinks are so damn expensive and you don’t–”
“You’re going to propose to Katsudon?” Yuri blurts.
“Yes,” Viktor eyes Yuri's red face wearily. “Is there a problem?”
“I want to help.”
“Um–”
“Let me rephrase that, old man. I’m going to help.”
“Yurio–”
“ Don’t call me that. ”
“–no offense, but you’re 15. What do you know about proposing to someone?”
“Nothing,” Yuri shrugs, his face still determined. “But I know Katsudon. And I know you. And I know that you’ll end up going overboard and it’ll make Katsudon uncomfortable but he’ll be too happy to call you out on how damn extra you are.”
Viktor opens his mouth to protest but snaps it shut again when he realizes that Yuri is right. Yakov nods his agreement.
“Okay, you can help.”
Viktor sighs in frustration.
He’d been determined, this morning, to finish writing The Song for Yuuri. He had a vision: it was going to be all sweet piano notes and soft, affectionate lyrics. Just the type of song that Yuuri adores dancing to. It was going to be perfect, of course it was. Viktor wouldn’t propose to Yuuri with anything less. He’d woken up and took one look at Yuuri’s face, sleep soft and golden in the early morning light, and then raced to the studio to try to capture the lovesick bubbling in his chest.
It’s been approximately 4 hours and Viktor hasn’t written a single line.
Sighing again, Viktor turns back to his laptop, hoping that the notes of The Song would manifest themselves if he just stares hard enough.
Just as he’s starting to really get into composing there’s a hesitant knock on his office door, jolting him from his concentration.
“Viktor?” Yuuri pokes his head in.
Viktor loves Yuuri, he really does, but right now he’s going to murder him.
“Yuuri!” Viktor shouts, slamming the lid of his laptop closed. “What a surprise!”
“Yeah, I, uh, wanted to surprise you?” Yuuri holds up a brown paper bag. “I brought takeout?”
“Wonderful!” The edges of Viktor’s face are starting to hurt from smiling so hard. He hastily shuffles some paper around, trying to cover any sheet music from Yuuri’s view. “You can set the food down over there, love.”
Yuuri goes to put the bag down when Viktor realizes that he, like an idiot , left the ring box right there on the table. It’s in plain view, the dark blue velvet a stark contrast against the pristine white of the sheet music beneath it, which is probably covered in sappy lyrics about Yuuri and wow, great going Nikiforov, you’re really doing a great job at keeping this whole thing a secret.
“ Wait, not there!”
Yuuri startles as Viktor shoots to his feet.
“Just! Um-” Viktor cuts himself off, looking around the room frantically for a way to somehow get to the box without drawing attention to it.
Yuuri frowns.
“Is this a bad time? Because I can come back later.”
Oh, no.
“Or not? Sorry, I should’ve called ahead, I didn’t know you were so busy. I’ll just go-”
Yuuri chews his lips and shuffles his feet in the way that Viktor knows means he’s running the past five minutes back in his head, trying to see where he messed up. Viktor immediately feels like the world’s biggest asshole.
“No, I’m not busy, solnyshko , just a little stressed.”
Yuuri hesitates.
“We can have lunch! Just, um,” Viktor eyes the ring box, still exposed. “Not here.”
For a second, Viktor thinks he’s going to insist on leaving but then Yuuri is smiling shyly and reaching for Viktor’s hand, tugging him out of the room. “Okay.”
Before he leaves his office Viktor glances mournfully at the pile of half finished melodies. It’s okay, he’ll have plenty of time to write Yuuri the love song of the century.
Viktor is feeling particularly reluctant about leaving the apartment today. Yuuri was sleep soft and gorgeous, looking like a Renaissance painting with the sheets tangled around his waist and the sunlight streaming in from the window behind him. When Viktor got out of bed Makkachin immediately took his place, the traitor.
Viktor definitely doesn’t spend 5 minutes glaring at his dog, the boyfriend thief. Viktor is a rational adult and has more important matters to attend to. Like getting to his meeting.
“I’d like to call this meeting to order!” Viktor says, striding in dramatically and dropping into a seat at the head of a table in a small cafe, not too far from his and Yuuri’s apartment. He glances at his assembled council, happy to have been fashionably late.
“You may be wondering why I called you all here today–”
“Nope,” Phichit grins. “You’re going to propose to Yuuri.”
“How did you know? Yurio, did you–?”
“No, old man, I didn’t tell anyone. You’re just embarrassingly obvious.”
“Everyone knows, Viktor,” Chris smirks. “I knew you were going to end up marrying him from the moment you called me to gush about how cute he looks wearing your underwear.”
“ Disgusting!” Yuri screeches. “There is a child present!”
“Settle down, Yurio,” Viktor says, fighting down a blush. “Am I that obvious?”
The answer is a resounding yes.
They spend the first hour just catching up. The problem with having a friend group made up entirely of international celebrities is that you’re rarely in the same city for more than a few hours , Viktor muses. And then he realizes what a privileged asshole he is.
Eventually, they start being productive. Viktor pulls out a notebook, which he actually uses to take notes. That’s how serious he is about this. They immediately rule out any type of public proposal. Phichit threatens to literally bury Viktor alive for not thinking about how much Yuuri, who struggles with making eye contact while ordering a coffee, would hate having a public proposal. Chris mostly sips his latte and makes innuendos, but Viktor expected as much. In the end it's Yuri who contributes the most.
Viktor’s got the bare bones of a plan outlined by the time they bid their farewells. It’s progress and Viktor is happy to have spent the afternoon with three people who love Yuuri almost as much as he does.
Phichit pulls him aside while everyone’s leaving. For a moment Viktor’s worried he’s gonna get another shovel talk, but Phichit has been threatening Viktor with bodily harm for years. Viktor’s immune.
“I just wanted to thank you,” Phichit starts. “I’ve been trying to show Yuuri how loved he is since forever. I don’t think I ever managed to do it as well as you do.”
Viktor ducks his head. He and Phichit are a team: co-captains of the Yuuri Katsuki protection squad, president and Vice President, respectively, of the Yuuri Katsuki fan club, and the two leading experts in the caring of Yuuri Katsuki.
“He brings out the best in people,” Viktor says. Phichit knows this.
“He makes me want to do better,” Viktor admits quietly and Phichit knows this, too. “He makes me want to be better, for him.”
“Well,” Phichit says, pulling out his phone to check his eyeliner in the camera. “I think this goes without saying, but: if you mess this up, I will kill you and make it look like an accident.”
Then Phichit is beaming up at him sunnily and bouncing out of the cafe. Viktor chuckles and heads back home to cuddle his boyfriend.
Viktor bolts awake at 4 AM one night in a panic because he’s just realized that he’s never asked Yuuri’s parents for their blessing. Yuuri’s family isn’t particularly strict on traditions and Yuuri’s parents have been calling Viktor their son for years, but even still. Viktor wants to get this right.
Viktor flies to Japan the next day. He knows he’s being extra; he could have just as easily asked over skype, but, again, Viktor’s middle name is extra.
He tells Yuuri that it’s an emergency at the label’s Tokyo office, something to do with paperwork and contracts. He feels bad about lying so he hugs Yuuri extra tight at the airport, hoping the younger man will remember the feel of Viktor’s arms around him even when they’re thousands of miles apart.
He plans out his speech on the train ride to Hasetsu, but that all flies out the window when he sees Yuuri’s mom.
“ Okaasan ,” Viktor breathes out, tears welling up in his eyes. He didn’t realize how much he missed Yuuri’s family until now.
“Vicchan?” Hiroko almost drops the tray she’s holding when Viktor envelopes her in his arms. “Vicchan, what are you doing here? Where’s Yuuri?”
“He didn’t come with me,” Viktor says, still clinging to the shorter woman. “ Okaasan , I have something to ask you.”
“Is everything okay?” Mari and Yuuri’s dad had come into the room, drawn in by the commotion. Viktor pulls away from Hiroko and squares himself.
“I came to ask for Yuuri’s hand in marriage.”
There’s a beat of silence and Viktor is terrified.
Then Mari bursts into laughter.
“Dude, you two have been married practically since you met. What are you asking us for?”
“Oh, Vicchan, you’re so sweet!” Hiroko flaps her arms excitedly. She turns to Yuuri’s dad, stars in her eyes. “Did you hear that? Our son is getting married!”
“This calls for a celebration!” Toshiya turns to Mari. “Your brother is getting married!”
“Ah,” Viktor says hesitantly. “I haven’t actually asked him yet. I wanted your permission first.”
Hiroko smiles at him warmly. “Yuuri will say yes. And then you’ll come back here and let us celebrate.”
“Also,” Mari says, leveling Viktor with a cool look despite her shining eyes. “If you’re looking for permission, there are a couple other people you have to ask, too.”
And that’s how Viktor ends up asking the entire town of Hasetsu for their blessing.
Minako is his first, and most important, stop after the Katsukis. She throws her shoe at him first and then offers him a drink, scolding him for taking so long. Then she starts crying about how her tiny danseur has grown up to ensnare the hearts of poor, unsuspecting Russian pop stars.
The Nishigoris are another matter altogether. First, Viktor has to bribe the triplets with exclusive Yuri Plisetsky merchandise so that they don’t leak his location on Instagram. Then he has to bribe them with the exclusive deluxe editions of all his albums so they don’t leak his location to Yuuri. Yuko is ecstatic, she tells Viktor that she’s surprised they haven’t already eloped in secret, straight up. Takeshi, however, is not as thrilled.He pulls Viktor aside while the girls are fawning over their new merchandise.
“I’ve never liked you,” Takeshi says bluntly. Viktor sighs.
“I know.”
“Yuuri’s always had a blind spot, when it comes to you. I’ve known him our entire lives. He’s my brother.”
“I think Mari would try to fight you on that.”
“The point is,” Takeshi barrels on. “That Yuuri thinks that you’re perfect and one day you’re going to mess up and hurt him and he’s not going to say anything about it.”
“I’ve already messed up,” Viktor admits. “A thousand times; probably more, if we’re being honest. But I always make it up to him. Always.”
Takeshi searches his face for something. Viktor refuses to look away. After a while, Takeshi seems to find whatever it is.
“He’s too good for you,” Takeshi says, but he’s smiling now and clapping Viktor on the shoulder heartily. “But then again, he’s too good for all of us. Welcome to the family, brother-in-law.”
Viktor’s on a plane back by the end of the day. He’s tempted to stay longer but he misses Yuuri terribly. On the plane ride home, Viktor thinks about the literal army of people who love Yuuri (and, by extension, Viktor too) and wonders how Yuuri ever thought he was alone in the world.
Viktor is not a jealous person, but he’s so tempted to propose to Yuuri right now, in front of all these people, out of pure spite.
Here’s the problem: Yuuri is attractive. Normally, this isn’t a problem, not when Viktor’s allowed to enjoy how hot his boyfriend is daily. But, there are consequences to having an attractive boyfriend, namely, other people noticing how attractive he is.
They’re at an award show after party. Yuuri is still flushed from performing earlier alongside some pop star that Viktor hadn’t paid attention to, too distracted by Yuuri’s fluid movements and subtle grace even as he danced backup.
Viktor is being responsible for once and isn’t currently downing his weight in alcohol. Yuuri, meanwhile, has been steadily guzzling champagne and, honestly, Viktor’s not about to stop him. Yuuri is a fun drunk.
Viktor’s watching with barely contained amusement as Yuuri challenges yet another unsuspecting teen idol to a dance off. Really, Viktor should probably stop him. He doesn’t.
Yuuri somehow manages to weave his way through to roiling mess of bodies on the dance floor and make his way to the bar where he promptly collapses into the nearest seat. Which happens to be someone’s lap.
Someone who isn’t Viktor.
Again: Viktor isn’t a jealous person. It seems like he’d be the jealous type, what with all the public displays of affection and love confessions on national television and the general possessiveness that seems to coat his voice whenever he talks about Yuuri. But he’s not the jealous type. He trusts Yuuri, even if he may not trust other people, and he knows that at the end of the day Yuuri always comes home to him. He’s secure enough in their relationship that he doesn’t throw a fit everytime Yuuri’s attention shifts to something that isn’t him.
(Well. He doesn’t throw fits anymore.)
So, Viktor isn’t concerned. He recognizes the guy currently struggling with a lap full of Yuuri to be one of Yuuri’s fellow backup dancers. Viktor decides to make his way closer to the bar to rescue the poor guy. Slowly, though, because Yuuri is a fun drunk and Viktor kind of wants to see how this plays out. He’s definitely going to use this to embarrass Yuuri later.
Viktor hovers just close enough to the bar to catch their conversation.
“Oh,” Yuuri says, blinking down at his new chair. “Hello.”
“Hello, Yuuri,” the guy laughs. Yuuri’s about to get up when the guy stops him with a large hand on his waist and okay maybe Viktor is a little jealous.
“Where are you going?” the guy, newly dubbed The Asshole in Viktor’s head, pouts. “You just got here.”
“Um,” Yuuri says, intelligently.
“Let me buy you a drink.” Yuuri makes a move to get up again, but The Asshole doesn’t let go of his waist. Instead he puts his other hand on Yuuri’s thigh. “C’mon, you never let me take you out after rehearsal.”
“N-No, thanks,” Yuuri frowns and, bless his soul, even in his drunken state he manages to extract himself from The Asshole’s slimey grip and slide, gracefully, off his lap. “I think I’ve had enough.”
The Asshole starts to reach for Yuuri again. Viktor decides to intervene, calmly.
“Hey,” Viktor says. “Asshole.”
The Asshole’s gaze snaps to Viktor as he sidles up to Yuuri’s side and wraps an arm around his shoulder. Yuuri, out of habit, slides a hand into Viktor’s back pocket.
“He said no,” Viktor glares.
“Who the hell are you?”
“I’m his husband,” Viktor says and wow, okay , that’s not what he intended to say, but those are the words that come out of his mouth.
“Yuuri,” The Asshole gapes. “You...uh- you didn’t tell me you were married.”
“I’m not?” Yuuri looks back and forth between The Asshole and Viktor. “I’m not married? Vitya, you’d tell me if I was married, right?”
“Uh-”
“Because I’d tell you! If I was married! I’d tell you because-” Yuuri seems to struggle here. “Because! If I was married I wouldn’t be able to date you. And that would suck. Also, I don’t want to be married to anyone but you. Because that would suck.”
Viktor looks down to see Yuuri peering up at him through his bangs, eyes sparkling like precious stones.
“Okay!” Viktor squeaks, leading Yuuri away because they need to go home right now before Viktor does something embarrassing like propose or beg Yuuri to have his children.
Yuri and Mila laugh at him later for calling himself Yuuri’s husband before he’s even proposed but, hey, no harm done, right?
(Yuuri comes home livid a couple days later because apparently someone was spreading rumors that not only was Yuuri married but he had two boyfriends and a girlfriend on the side while also hiding a secret love child with a childhood friend somewhere in Japan.
“Honestly, zolotse ,” Viktor smirks. “Maybe if you didn’t try so hard to seem aloof and mysterious people would stop saying ridiculous things about you.”
“I’m not aloof and mysterious!” Yuuri huffs. “I’m just...shy.”)
Viktor is so, so tired.
It’s the kind of tiredness that sneaks up on you; a quiet, low hum that gradually grows until suddenly you can feel every cell in your body wilting. The kind that makes you acutely aware of the pull of gravity, urging you to rest your bones, even if just for a moment. It’s the kind that lingers: sometimes for days, sometimes for years.
Viktor use to feel like this all the time. Back when he had just made his debut, the first track on his EP gaining international success. The pressure was so high Viktor thought he would burst. They were calling him a one-hit wonder; a talented kid with nothing to his name, no manager, no label, no safety net to fall back on when he inevitably crashes and burns. Viktor had been so hungry for validation, so desperate to prove himself.
And then he met Yakov. Yakov, who is now more of a father to him than his actual biological father, who took one look at this shivering mess of a boy and said “ boy, you are going to rule the world” before taking him in and helping him do just that.
The tiredness lingered, though. Viktor cranked out hit after hit, always changing his style to keep his audience on their toes. He never sang about the same thing twice, never stayed with the same person long enough to inspire more than a bright, bubblegum pop tune before he was flitting off to the next one.
Viktor use to think this was normal. That this was just how things were and love and life were just things that marketers made up to sell songs to an unsuspecting, idealistic populous.
Then Yuuri waltzed into his life, stole his heart, and left him wanting more.
Viktor isn’t use to the tiredness anymore, not when he now knows what it’s like to feel so light that he thinks he might float away. So, it hits him a little harder than he expected.
He walks home from the office in a daze, struggling to shake off the lingering sadness before he gets back, not wanting to worry Yuuri. They haven’t seen much of each other in the past week, with Yuuri working on choreographing a performance for the VMAs and Viktor helping Mila with her newest single. He misses his adorable dance star boyfriend dearly.
“Makkachin!” As soon as Viktor’s opened the door he’s greeted by his large, fluff ball of a dog barreling at him at top speed.
“Viktor?”
Viktor looks up from his beloved poodle to see his beloved boyfriend popping his head into the hallway. Viktor side steps Makkachin and follows Yuuri down the hall and into the kitchen like a moth drawn to a flame.
“I got home from the studio early. The backup dancers are finally, finally, getting their blocking right. Anyways, I thought I’d cook dinner? I know we usually reserve katsudon for special occasions but I was feeling homesick. Also, my mom sent me a package and she included her recipe so,” Yuuri shrugs, gesturing to the living room with a spatula. “She sent you some stuff, too.”
Yuuri turns fully towards Viktor, who’s hovering near the doorway, caught up in the whirlwind that is Yuuri Katsuki.
“Hey,” he says, voice going soft. “Are you okay? You’ve seemed kind of down lately. I’m sorry if all this is too much, I just wanted to make you feel better.”
It takes all of VIktor’s self control to not just drop to his knees and propose on the spot.
“ Yuuri,” he breathes.
“You’ve been working so hard, Vitya,” Yuuri says, smiling up at Viktor fondly. “I thought you deserved a break.”
Viktor drops his bags and shuffles forwards into Yuuri’s arms. He smells like katsudon and green tea and home.
“What did I ever do to deserve you?” Viktor mumbles, his face buried in the crook of Yuuri’s neck.
Yuuri huffs a laugh, from this close Viktor can feel his heartbeat. “Shouldn't I be asking that question?”
“No, you know exactly what you did. You got smashed on 16 glasses of champagne and-”
“ Viktor!”
Viktor laughs. He’s so comfortable, Yuuri clutched close to his chest, his thick black hair soft against Viktor’s cheek and his hands rubbing soothing circles into Viktor’s back. If he had it his way, neither of them would leave the apartment again. They’d survive on take out pizza; it could work.
“Vitya,” Yuuri nudges him gently. “The food will burn.”
“Let it,” Viktor says childishly. “I’m never letting go of you again.”
Yuuri laughs and shoves Viktor off, but makes up for it by pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.
The next day Yuuri makes both of them take the day off and they spend most of their time watching bad reality TV and arguing over who Makkachin loves more.
(It’s Yuuri, but Viktor can’t really blame him.)
Viktor still doesn’t know how he managed to get so lucky.
The final plans are falling into place.
Viktor’s rented out Yuuri’s favorite theatre; the theatre where they’d watched Swan Lake together on their first day, after Viktor managed to get his shit together and ask Yuuri out. He knows how much Yuuri loves an empty theatre. He’ll sweep across the stage like a hurricane, beautiful and confident, the quiet giving away to the patter of his feet on the floor.
(Yuuri hasn’t performed on a stage in years. He mostly choreographs or does music videos now, content to run things behind the scenes despite the companies and artists alike begging him to star in their productions.)
He’ll appreciate the quiet grace of the empty theatre.Yes, Viktor knows this theatre is a good idea.
He convinces Yakov to not only lend him a grand piano, but also to have it painted baby blue and angled just right on stage so he’ll be able to make eye contact with Yuuri, seated in the front row, while he’s playing The Song for him. He wants to record it, for the music video and to post all over social media, but figures it’ll be better to just let the moment play out. After all, he’ll have plenty of times to perform it for the world. Showing Yuuri first is more important.
The Song has a studio version recorded and ready for release. Yakov is begging him to do it soon, before Christmas, so that they can maximize the number of sales. Viktor doesn’t care about sales but he figures that Yakov has put up with Viktor’s bullshit for long enough and deserves a heavily padded retirement fund.
The rings were settled months ago. Yuuri’s ring is Viktor’s mother’s ring, slim, delicate, and feminine but Yuuri has always loved shattering gender roles. He’s going to cherish it, Viktor would never trust anyone else with something so precious. For himself, Viktor picked out a simple gold band, figuring that he’d return it later and let Yuuri pick his ring.
Viktor was right, it’s going to be perfect. Tomorrow, he’ll take Yuuri out to dinner and then to the theatre. Viktor can hardly contain himself. Tomorrow, he’ll be engaged.
Viktor rolls over at 2 AM to find Yuuri’s side of the bed empty, the sheets rumpled and cold.
Viktor sighs and then heaves himself out of bed to go hunt down his ridiculous, wonderful boyfriend. He pads into the kitchen, expecting to find Yuuri hunched over his laptop, lost in the vastness of the internet or maybe skyping his family back in Japan.
Instead, Yuuri is curled in on himself, sitting on the kitchen counter. He’s clutching a mug in both hands, eyes unfocused. He doesn’t even look up when Viktor enters and that’s how he knows it’s going to be a bad night. Viktor curses himself for not noticing how anxious Yuuri must have been earlier.
Yuuri must have been here for a while; Viktor pries the mug out of Yuuri’s hands and notes that the contents are ice cold and barely touched. He deposits the mug in the sink, washing it to give Yuuri time to retreat if he wants.
(It took him years and many, many mistakes but Viktor now knows how to help Yuuri manage himself when he gets like this. He’s listened attentively as Yuuri described the incessant buzzing in his head, how his whole world seems to narrow until he feels small enough to be crushed under the weight of his own ribcage. Viktor will never understand this; he has his own demons. But he tries. He knows when to hold him close and when to give him space and to always, always give him a home to come back to.)
“Yuuri.”
Yuuri’s eyes snap to his. Viktor offers his softest smile and prays that Yuuri sees the layers of adoration behind it.
“Let’s go out.”
They end up, bundled in mismatched jackets and each others’ pajamas, at a small diner 30 minutes away from their apartment. Viktor had let Yuuri lead the way, waiting patiently while he wandered in random directions, their interlaced hands kept warm in the pocket of Viktor’s coat. Viktor would have let him wander for hours, would have followed him for hours if it made Yuuri feel better.
At the diner, they order coffee and too many pancakes. The walls are slightly dingy and the seats slightly sticky but Viktor manages to coax a smile out of Yuuri. And then Yuuri is spilling his mind out over the checkered table in between them, telling Viktor all the poisoned things his brain whispered to him that night. Eventually, Viktor replaces them with every ridiculously embarrassingly smitten thought he’s had about Yuuri the past week. They leave the diner hand in hand again, Yuuri feeling lighter and Viktor breathing his relief into the frigid night air.
Now, they wander back to their apartment chatting amicably. Yuuri’s gesturing with one hand as he talks, his other still captured by Viktor. He’s so lovely it makes Viktor ache .
They pass by a cathedral, grand and lit like a star from the inside. Yuuri’s eyes sparkle as he turns to Viktor.
“Ah, Vitya?” Yuuri tugs his sleeve lightly. “Let’s stop here for a second.”
He leads them up the steps and stops them underneath stained glass window. Yuuri looks up at him and shivers.
“Yuuri, are you okay? You look cold, lyubov moya .”
“I’m fine,” Yuuri reassures him. “But there’s something I wanted to ask you.”
“Anything,” Viktor says, and means it.
“Vitya,” Yuuri starts. “I’ve loved you for years. You know that, I’ve loved you since before I even knew what love was.”
Viktor’s hands are a little shaky. Realization at what Yuuri’s about to do dawns slow on him, making his mind feel both clouded with love and jittery with anticipation.
“I love you a lot, is what I’m trying to say,” Yuuri laughs nervously. “You’re my best friend. You know more about me than anyone else. You’ve seen all the ugliest parts of me but you’re still here. I don’t– um– I’ve never felt so comfortable with anyone else. It’s like, when I’m with you, my brain shuts up for a while and–”
Is this happening? Viktor thinks he’s having a heart attack.
“Sorry,” Yuuri says. “I’m rambling. The point is I could never be with anyone else. I wanna be yours, always.”
Yuuri takes Viktor’s hands.
“So, Viktor Nikiforov,” Yuuri smiles.
Viktor’s breath hitches.
“Will you–”
“Yes .”
Yuuri stops and smiles at him, exasperated. “I haven’t even asked you yet.”
“Yuuri. Yuuri. The answer is yes, it’s always been yes.”
Viktor should be offended , frankly. He’s spent months (months!) planning the perfect proposal. He’s agonized over the details trying to get everything just so. He wrote The Song, the song that was going to be the best thing he’ll ever put out, the song that had him almost ripping his hair out trying to get perfect. It’s only a couple hours before Viktor was planning on proposing. And now Yuuri is casually offering Viktor the rest of their lives together and Viktor isn’t even wearing matching socks.
None of that matters, though. Yuuri is here, so full of life and love; smiling up at Viktor like he’s the only thing he’s ever wanted. He’s ethereal, breathtaking in the way that Viktor can’t even describe, bathed in the light from the cathedral. His face is slightly flushed, eyes impossibly round. Viktor falls in love with how the snow gets caught on his eyelashes; he falls in love with the way Yuuri’s hands shake slightly, wrapped around Viktor’s own hands. His hair is an inky contrast against the glow from the candles behind him. He’s backlit and soft around the edges and it makes Viktor’s heart pound. Yuuri is the most gorgeous creature Viktor’s ever seen, standing in front of him on a cold winter’s night in a ratty pair of sweatpants and wrapped up tight in Viktor’s coat.
Viktor wants to cry. He thinks he is crying, but that doesn’t matter. All that matters is that Yuuri is his and he’s Yuuri’s and the perfect proposal doesn’t exist because with Yuuri involved it was always going to be perfect.
(Viktor does end up using all his plans, later, after dragging Yuuri out of their apartment. They’re too late to make Viktor’s dinner reservations because Yuuri kept crowding him against the kitchen counter, alternating between kissing his ring and kissing Viktor. They do eventually make it to the theatre, though, and Yuuri even lets go of Viktor’s hand long enough for him the play The Song.
Yuuri cries. Viktor cries, too. It would probably be embarrassing if they weren’t so disgustingly in love.)
“Yakov!”
“It is 3 in the morning, Vitya, why are you calling me? ”
“You won’t believe it,” Viktor squeals. “Yuuri just proposed to me! He beat me to it and he didn’t even have rings or anything. He had maple syrup on his face. Yakov, it was amazing.”
“Vitya,” Yakov says slowly. “Didn’t we just spend the past few months planning your proposal are you trying to tell me that-”
Viktor winces and pulls the phone away from his ear as Yakov starts to yell. He waits a couple minutes before trying to cut in.
“-and all of that money is wasted? Vitya, you promised me this would be the latest hit. You made postpone release for 4 months.”
“Yakov-”
“The studio’s main source of income has been Georgi. Georgi! While you sat in your office and stared at pictures of that boy. And you’re telling me you didn’t even use The Song to propose to him?”
“It’s okay! We can use The Song for our wedding! The important thing is that I’m engaged , Yakov. To Yuuri.”
“Vitya,” Yakov says suddenly, his voice isn’t soft but it’s definitely less gruff. “I’m happy for you. That boy is good for you, I’m glad you managed to convince him to put up with you for the rest of your lives.”
Viktor beams. He knows Yakov can’t see it, but he nods.
“Now,” Yakov says, all warmth gone. “Let me sleep. Go back to your fiance.”
“ Fiance,” Viktor breathes in wonder. “That's right! He’s my fiance now. Yakov! Yuuri Katsuki is my fiance! Soon to be Yuuri Katsuki- Nikiforov! Yakov, I-”
Yakov doesn’t feel bad at all about hanging up on that ridiculous boy.