M.O.N.E.Y • viktuuri ✔️

54.| headlights

song: an encounter by the 1975

cars went shooting by victor's silver mercedes and their headlights shone against the road that stretched out in front of him and yuri katsuki.

victor sniffed and wiped the blood from his lips and nose, wincing due to the hidden pain in his wrist.

"you ok?" he asked yuri, taking his eyes momentarily off of the road to glance at his angel sitting in the passenger seat, wearing his bloodied denim jacket, denim jeans ripped at the knees and a baby pink cropped top that exposed the stretched muscle of his torso.

and victor was thankful for the darkness of the night, because it hid the damage that the man in a boss suit and heavy boots had done to his yuri's soft skin and delicate face.

but the headlights coming, going and spreading their light onto the silver mercedes as it sped away from a dull grey block of apartments downtown reflected off of the tears streaming down yuri's cheeks, and the tears in his chocolate eyes.

and it damn near broke victor's patched up heart in two.

"you're ok now, baby," victor sad softly, wincing as his hurt wrist cried out when he gripped the steering wheel. he reached for yuri katsuki's shaking hand, resting on his thigh, but before victor's cold fingers could feel the warmth of his soft skin beneath his palm, yuri moved his hand away and smeared blood across his cheek as he brushed his soft dark, dark hair from out of his eyes.

victor instantly drew his hand away, and winced as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel again.

"you're gonna try run again, baby?"

the thought of celestino's rough hands on his yuri's soft cheek and lips made victor feel physically sick. he looked back over to yuri by his side, dark bags under his eyes illuminated by a pair of headlights passing them by.

"i-i'm sorry, yuri," victor managed to say, clearing his throat and wincing. talking disturbed the cut on his bottom lip, caused by one of celestino cialdini's heavy-looking rings.

"y-you're sorry?" yuri said in a tired, weak voice, leaning back in his seat and pulling victor's jacket tight around his bruised body. "what are you sorry for?"

victor kept his eyes on the road, but thought of yuri quickly taking his hand away from his after the word "baby" left his lips.

"for...for calling you...what he called you...you already told me not to...i wasn't thinking...i understand..."

yuri looked at victor with big brown eyes, and his words came out hurriedly.

"n-no...i was only brushing...the hair out of my eyes...i wasn't..."

"oh."

victor blushed, and was glad for the darkness of the night that hid his red cheeks. yuri swallowed, before he leant back in his seat once more and started to play with the ends of the sleeves of victor's acid-washed denim jacket.

"what i mean is," yuri started off slowly, in a quiet voice that was nearly drowned out by the sound of the car's tyres against the tarmac.

"what i mean is," yuri repeated, "that i don't mind you calling me baby, victor. i-i...i want you too...call me that..."

yuri scratched at the back of his neck, looking down at the bare skin of his knees that was exposed through the rips of his jeans.

and victor tried to hide a smile; he longed to keep one hand on the steering wheel and feel the warmth of yuri's shaking hand in his, but he was hesistant to touch him.

"he's not my fucking pimp, because i'm not a fucking whore."

and victor hated himself for every fucking thing he had said to yuri in that guest bedroom, because he had seen the heather and strawberry damage on his ribs and the lower part of his back, and had felt only a fraction of the pain that his yuri had had to suffer through when celestino's fist caught him unawares.

and now victor knew how much every fucking word that he had said to hurt yuri must have hurt him, when a man in a boss suit would use his fists and his heavy boots if yuri didn't bring home banknotes in his jean pockets and the scent of other men.

victor longed to reach out and touch him, but couldn't bring himself to do so, after every fucking thing he had said, so put both hands on the steering wheel and winced as his wrist cried out.

"are you alright, victor?" yuri asked, and victor nodded, not wishing to worry him. yuri bit at his bruised, bloodied lips.

"don't do that, baby," victor said. "your only make it hurt worse."

"sorry," yuri murmured, sighing heavily as he rested his head against the cool glass of the car window. "it's a habit."

victor nodded, and gave him a small smile whilst he turned the car off f the motorway and in the direction of the rows of expensive, top-of-the-range houses that people stared at in longing, and one of which victor had bought "just for the hell of it."

"you know," yuri began, eyes fluttering open and shut and the denim lapels of victor's jacket that brushed his soft lips muffling his soft voice. "i never imagined it to be like this."

"what?" victor asked gently, and heard the cut on his lip cry out.

"leaving that apartment. for good," yuri said, dark hair falling into his eyes and his reflection looking back at him in the car window.

"i always imagined," yuri went on, "that i'd hide all the money i needed under my jacket and in the pockets of my jeans, wait until he had left the house, before i gave phichit and leo the money i had save for them...so that one day they would be able to do the same...calling the police would be to risky...before i picked up a small bag i had hidden under the bed...the black one on the back seat...and walked fast down the street...to a bus stop...put in my headphones...and watched the apartment get further and further away."

victor laughed a little, shaking silver hair from his eyes. he was wondering if what he had said to chris in that

"but i never thought," yuri went on, "that someone else would come...take me away...like you did...for me..."

victor longed to reach out and touch his angel; the boy with the soft dark, dark hair who he just might have fallen in love with.

"what music would you listen to," victor said, the streetlights taking the places of the headlights from the motorway. "when you left apartment 14 far behind, baby?"

"the 1975," yuri said in a faltering voice, falling asleep in victor jacket and leaning against the car window, the traces of a smile on his soft lips.

"what's you're favourite song, yuri?" victor whispered, his house drawing nearer and nearer, yuri katsuki's eyes closing once again.

"an encounter," he said softly, soft dark, dark hair hiding his chocolate eyes from view.

and victor breathed in the scent of bubblegum, and, when he saw that yuri was asleep, he dared to reach out and touch his hand.

only just.