TRAINING WHEELS
MELANIE MARTINEZ
the lights were on when yuri pushed open the door of the apartment, and luca was lying on the sofa with the television on.
"hi," he said to yuri, smiling, and yuri put down his keys and threw his coat over the back of a kitchen chair.
"...are you happy?"
he waited for luca to say something about why he was home so late, smelt like somebody else; to look over at him, shout at him, slam the door, throw a glass at the wall or tell him he was fucking done with him.
but luca said nothing. he kept watching the television with hazel hair in his eyes and loud american voices filled the silence between them.
"...do i look happy to you?"
yuri knew luca's jacket beside his legs on the couch smelt of somebody else's cologne or perfume, but didn't say anything. it wasn't like he minded.
he wondered what victor nikiforov was doing right then and there, and felt his phone in his back jean pocket.
"hey," luca said, and came up behind yuri just as he reaches for his phone. yuri smiled when luca stared to kiss his shoulder, but he moved to go down the hall.
"you want to have sex?" luca said, accent still not as smooth as gossamer silk russian, and yuri almost laughed at every fucking word.
"i'm tired," he said simply, before he kissed luca on the mouth and headed down the hall, coat over his arm.
the bedroom was too cold, so he put on his coat again, and slipped his hands into his pockets.
"...i preferred the black one..."
yuri stood leaning against the dresser in the bedroom - as he had done only an hour before in victor nikiforov's bedroom - and pulled out his phone to see the text his victor had sent him.
he's not yours.
victor🍷; i want to sleep next to you
victor🍷; that's all i want to do
yuri started typing.
victor🍷; not sex
victor🍷; i just want to be close to you
yuri smiled, and the television kept on blaring from the other room.
yuri🌹; and there was me thinking you going to sing me a troye sivan song
he bit his bottom lip. his dun-coloured coat had traces of the scent of lemon, vanilla and aftershave on its lapels.
victor🍷; come back yuri
yuri pressed one lapel to his face, the material not all that soft, and breathed in the scent of victor nikiforov.
YOU ARE READING
M.O.N.E.Y • viktuuri ✔️
Fanfictionin which fame isn't kind to teenage celebrity victor nikiforov, and he pays a dark haired boy to make him feel less lonely. copyright @beautifulpyscho 2017 •lowercase intended• snapchat fic//dialogue//texting and a shit load of the 1975 trigger warn...
