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your eyes have their silence

Chapter Text

nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands


 

Yuuri’s wrist still aches in the cold, but the Spanish doctor who removed his and Viktor’s Devices promised him that would pass. So he wears a sweatband around it for extra warmth, as winter in St. Petersburg is both long and cold. It’s a very different city from Hasetsu or Detroit, but Yuuri is learning to enjoy it.

He thinks that he could live anywhere, if it were a place Viktor loved as much as he loves his hometown.

The path Yuuri runs in the mornings is beautiful, with bridges and old buildings and the sound of gulls crying in the distance. If he gets homesick, sometimes, the rink at the end of his run is familiar enough; if he’s still homesick after that, Viktor is there, too, and his arms are open. Yuuri’s parents have promised to visit, too, and Yuuri tries to take in everything with an eye to describing it to them in a way that will convince them he is happy.

(He is happy.)

Sometimes the only thing that gets Yuuri out of bed and going so early is knowing that if he gets there, he can kiss Viktor as much as he likes. Viktor has promised him that this wealth of affection will run out if Yuuri doesn’t win at Four Continents, but Viktor couldn’t even wait until the scores were announced at Nationals, so Yuuri only smirks whenever he makes this particular threat.

The news coverage of them kissing over the boards at Nationals was ugly, but Yuuri did better this time than he did after his win at the Grand Prix Final, and only read a few of the comments before he put away the phone.

Maybe it will die down over time, and maybe it won’t. They’ve submitted their application to have their marriage recognized, with the letter from the doctor certifying the removal of their Devices and legal documents declaring the renunciation of their soulmates. All that’s left is the waiting.

Viktor said that Mikhail would be notified of the legal termination of their relationship. He must have heard by now, but he hasn’t tried to contact them. He hasn’t contacted the police, either, so they’ve decided to move forward for now.

Yuuri jogs in place at crosswalk, waiting for traffic to ebb; there are people around, and they are looking at him. A woman behind and to his left drops her folded umbrella as she fumbles for something in her purse; Yuuri bends down to pick it up and hands it over.

(She’s got green eyes, Yuuri notices.)

The oncoming cars skid to a stop, and he takes off running again. Behind him, there’s Devices going off, or so Yuuri thinks; it sounds like just one.

A ringtone, maybe, he thinks, and forgets all about it as he reaches the bridge.

The sky is blue, and the sun is shining, and there is Viktor, standing with his bike and Makkachin, Yuri slouched against the railing beside him. Viktor lifts a hand and waves, enthusiastic, as if they last saw each other months ago instead of at breakfast this morning. Yuuri can’t help himself. He runs faster.

There are places that Yuuri could never reach before, until he was borne there by others. There are dreams in his grasp now he never dared to think would be fulfilled.

Viktor was right when he said that Yuuri would be very loved.

“Yuuri!”