M.O.N.E.Y • viktuuri ✔️

43.| paris

song: paris by the 1975 (you guessed it)

yuri was biting at his nail on the sofa, whilst phitchit played with leo's bronze hair and the television was on low. yuri had his phone with its cracked screen by his side, but he wasn't looking for any texts from victor nikiforov, who's name he never wanted to see on the broken screen of his iphone again.

even the thought of him and his scent was too goddamn painful for yuri; more goddamn painful than what he he had covered up clumsily with a roll of white bandage on his soft forearms and thighs.

"what's the matter with you, sugar?" celestino asked him, wrapping his arms around yuri from behind the sofa and kissing his delicate, bruised cheek that was made up to look pretty for him and his paying customers with nars concealer. yuri tried to not wince; he knew it would only make him angry.

"you've got that pout that i hate on your little face. not still moody like you were last friday, are you?" celestino chuckled, before sitting down heavily on the armchair beside yuri.

"you deserved your three days break, sweetheart," celestino said, rubbing yuri's knee. your gave an obedient smile, but inside, he was in shards of glass that he couldn't scrape back together without cutting himself and bleeding.

and three days; it had been three days since victor nikiforov had smashed yuri's katsuki's heart into pieces, and yuri knew that he would be back up on sale the next day. the thought of cold, emotionless hands groping at him, and without the scent of vanilla and lemon or a fantasy of a boy with blue eyes and silver hair taking him away to hold him with love, want and appreciation made yuri wish he had cut harder under the hot rain of the shower.

"i hate to cut your time-off short, baby - "

yuri winced at the words he had smiled at on his phone screen late at night.

victor💍: only if you want me to, baby

" - but some has asked for you," he said with a smile, rubbing at yuri's thigh. "later on tonight. that rich kid jj leroy's is having a drinks party with the likes of chris giacometti those other two...what are they called...mickey and emil. ten tonight. and you'll be there, baby. leo and phitchit too, of course, but i need you there after your success at that victor nikiforov's - "

yuri duh his nails into his palms.

" - party. you'll go, won't you, hun? you won't be all difficult again, will you?"

his grip tightened on yuri's thigh, pressing against a violet bruise that was the result of yuri's last refusal; all for victor nikiforov.

"yes," yuri said with an attempt at a smile, and phitchit giggled with leo by his side. yuri knew that he needed the money; 100 dollars from his saved cut of his late night dealings was a severe loss. if he wanted the hope of a way out, he needed to make up for what celestino's bruised hands had taken from his body and his broken heart.

and the strong smell of cologne and two other strangers' hands would do that for him, even if he still craved the scent of vanilla and lemon against his own will.

"a fucking whore."

22:06

celestino remained in the passenger seat of the unfamiliar dark blue car with the hard leather seats whilst leo, phitchit and yuri slipped out of the back and slammed the car door.