Yuri!! On Ice || headcanons

Mine (1)

This is a multiple-part story that I'm laying out like a full-blown fanfiction, with POV switching and shit, since it's the format I'm used to writing in. HAVE FUN!!!

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The night after the Grand Prix Final Exhibition, Viktor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki entered the locker room in their costumes, profusely sweating, the wild cheers of the crowd still ringing in their ears even an hour after their performance had concluded. 

Little did they know, this night would be the one to throw them into quite an adventure for their tightened heartstrings that, when plucked at, played notes louder than they could bear. 

YUURI 

"OI, KATSUDON!"

"Mr. Katsuki, may I ask you something?"

I spun on my heels and found myself staring at none other than Otabek and Yurio, the pair that had left the audience speechless merely an hour ago. We were standing in the locker room, near the changing stalls and the showers, and Viktor had just abandoned me to change in the bathrooms ten feet away. I was already fully dressed, just waiting for him to finish up so we could leave for the hotel.

"Oh, it's you two," I muttered.

"WHAT'S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN, HUH?" yelled Yurio

I decided to ignore him.  "What is it? And, um, you don't have to call me that." 

"Sorry. I was just wondering. . . And I don't want to be too nosy, but," Otabek spoke in his usual soft mutter, while Yurio peeked out from behind him, death glaring me down. "Are you and Viktor an item?"

I froze. 

After so many years of idolizing Viktor, when he showed up at my parents' house asking to become my coach, I pictured a rather innocent scenario where I would see him as my mentor, and we would spend our time talking about random things and training. 

Instead, I was thrown into a wild ride of seduction, exchanging rings, a retirement tease, an uncalled-for kiss right after a performance, and months of training that brought us closer than any simple mentor and protegé relationship.   

However, I wasn't sure how to answer Otabek's question. 

I glanced behind me at the bathrooms, where Viktor was still changing out of his tight, sweaty cotton and spandex. In the eerily quiet room, I could hear him lightly humming, and the shuffling of clothes and bags. I could almost imagine him smirking as he listened in on our conversation, ready to pop out and act all suave like he usually did. "W-Why do you ask?"

"Because, well," Otabek scratched the back of his neck and shrugged, a smug look painting his face that scarily countered his nice guy behaviour, yet complimented his good looks,  "The two of you seem very close all of a sudden, compared to last year's season. It was the rings that made everything interesting, I guess."

I was suddenly slapped with the memory of standing face to face at the cathedral, and Viktor sliding a ring onto my finger as he spoke, staring directly into my eyes with the same sensual look he had been giving me since we first properly met. 

My face flushed red hot. 

"O-Oh. That's, um, well. . ." I became a total flustered mess, unable to form proper speech. "Y-You see, uh, V-Viktor and I haven't really—" 

"Is it complicated?" 

"Well—" 

"Nevermind. I don't want to bother you too much. Have a nice day." He gave me what seemed to be a small smile and waved. And, with Yurio clinging to Otabek's arm while grumbling about something to do with pigs, they walked past me towards the second set of lockers. 

I leaned on Viktor's locker and waited, closing my eyes as he presumably finished up changing, as I began to hear zippers, and the humming progressively became slower. Soon enough, I heard the click of the stall door, footsteps, water rushing from a tap then quickly dissipating, and finally, from behind a tiled wall came out the infuriatingly hot Viktor Nikiforov, with dripping wet hair and a smug expression on his face that sent my stomach into oblivion. 

I backed up against a wall to let him freely open his locker. But instead of opening the lock, he approached me, coming closer step by step until, without realizing it, our faces were inches away, and Viktor was looking directly into my eyes. 

I felt my face become hot and tried to lightly push him away, but he resisted, and my hand ended up being the only thing keeping our chests from touching.

"What are you-?"

And without any hesitation whatsoever, he pressed his lips to mine and pushed me into the wall. 

He was warm, smelled like fresh laundry detergent, and his lips. . . unlike the last time we kissed where both of ours were coated in shiny lip fondue, his were lightly covered in citrus chapstick and mines were dry and flavourless. 

It took a good fifty seconds before he pulled away. My heart was racing so much I could hear it beat in my head, and I felt dizzy. I looked down and realized that in the sudden excitement, I had grabbed his shirt so tight it had lifted a bit.

"Viktor, wh—?"

Viktor suddenly lifted my chin and went back to looking straight into my eyes, with the same piercing gaze he always seemed to sport when he wasn't in a good mood. Then, with a sigh that sounded almost sad, he let go of me to resume opening his locker. 

"Let's go back to the hotel, shall we?" he said, taking out his bag and jacket and setting them on the bench.  

VIKTOR

I didn't show it, but some part of me felt a twinge of pain when Yuuri had admitted that he didn't know whether our bond was a romantic relationship or not. I felt like screaming my heart out into a pillow and avoiding him for the rest of my life. I was stubborn. I should have been more straightforward.

I wanted him. I wanted Yuuri so, so fucking bad. 

Admittedly, I hadn't been thinking completely straight when I made the spontaneous decision to fly to Japan in the middle of April. I was simply overtaken by love for not only his skate but also his charm and his looks. 

I... I think I love him. 

TO BE CONTINUED...