Summer, 1985.
In Crescent Shores, California.
A beach town with people who are just as small as itself.
A place with waves to surf, fires to warm, and bubblegum tinted sunsets to gaze upon.
Sun-kissed teens light up their cigarettes as they waste th...
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☆
I should have been used to it by now.
The spontaneous drives, the unknown locations, and of course the ritzy, vintage music that Yuri only blasted from my stereo at full volume and nothing less.
I really should have.
But I wasn't.
I could never keep up with him.
And I firmly believed that any other human being residing in Crescent Shores (or in any other part of the damn world) who had ever had the luxury of bumping into Yuri Katsuki would have been just as incapable of keeping up with such a gem as I was.
Considering the fact that this boy's eyes were undoubtedly sculpted and made out of gems themselves to go along with every other shining aspect of him.
So, in conclusion, and to make a long story into a condensed version of teenage written poetry........
I was a fucking mess.
And I could not, for the life of me, understand how I had gotten so lucky as to look to my right only to see this angel of a boy sitting in the passenger seat of my Jeep.
God, I really do sound crazy up inside my head, don't I?
Or maybe I'm just freaking out because of how overwhelmed the gay side of my body, soul, and mind (which is actually the entirety of me as a person in reality) is when it comes to dealing with these things.
But it didn't really matter, honestly.
Because either way, I was lovesick, crazy, gay, and obsessed with Swedish Fish.
And no matter what, Yuri would always be one step ahead.
He never fails to surprise me.
However, he never seemed to fail at anything else really.
"You feel that Nikiforov? That's what freedom feels like....." Yuri said dreamily as I glanced over at him from the driver's seat, my eyes following the way his hand danced in the air and his ebony hair played with the wind that filtered in through my car window.
I could hear my tires smoothly rolling against the hot pavement of the Californian highway as I observed palm tree after palm tree and made sure to count every single bird in the sky in an attempt to pass the time.
