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Yuuri clutches his rain-soaked jacket closer around him and shivers. His sneakers squelch with every step he takes, his fingers are chilled right down to the bone, and his glasses are so fogged up and covered with rain droplets that it’s a miracle that he’s managed to make it this far without accidentally bumping into anybody else.
But then someone rams into his shoulder, and Yuuri cries out with pain. Spoke too soon.
“Ah, sorry!” Yuuri says reflexively, stopping in his tracks and turning back, but the man just glares at him. Yuuri stiffens at the utter malice threaded throughout the man’s gaze. There’s no one else around them to witness this, and fear flashes down his spine when the man’s eyes narrow.
“You should be,” the man hisses, and then he disappears into the pounding rain.
Yuuri lifts a hand to his throbbing shoulder, rattled, but he tries to shake it off as best he can as he continues on his way back to his apartment.
“You’re soaked, ” Phichit tuts once he returns, getting up from the couch and helping Yuuri shrug out of his sopping jacket as he toes off his shoes. Yuuri winces when his hurt shoulder is stretched too far, and makes a note to ice it. There’s no doubt it’s going to bruise. “It’ll be a miracle if you don’t wake up sick tomorrow.”
Yuuri grimaces, already feeling the beginnings of what’s most likely going to be a sore throat as he swallows. “I think it’s too late for that. I’ll probably make some tea tonight to stave off the worst of it.”
“Take a shower first,” Phichit suggests, sitting back down in front of his laptop and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Several pages full of 12-point font Times New Roman double-spaced are open on the screen, detailing research into advanced biochemistry topics that Phichit has been compiling for months. Yuuri wouldn’t touch it with a six-foot pole—there’s a reason he took on a business major. “It’ll warm you up in no time.”
“I should,” Yuuri agrees, hanging up his coat and sticking a towel underneath to catch the water dripping from the hem. When Yuuri goes into his room to drop off his bag before showering, there is a piece of paper sitting on his windowsill. And even before it unravels at his touch‚ before the sweet, faint scent of warm vanilla sugar begins to permeate the room, Yuuri’s heart races. He knows who left this here. And it definitely wasn’t Phichit.
He scrambles to pick up the piece of paper, but his bright mood sinks quickly.
My dearest Yuuri,
Mother requests that I stay home for a few more days while we capture the rogues. They’ve gotten more daring, and we have confidence that they’ll slip soon. But stay safe, darling, and be watchful—there are many who will try to get to me through you.
Yours,
Viktor
He and Viktor had arranged to meet each other tomorrow afternoon, and Yuuri can’t help but feel disappointed that he won’t be able to see Viktor like they had planned. Yet, there’s still a small flicker of affection that skips through his heart as he brushes his thumb over the letter.
Viktor’s writing is nearly as beautiful as he is—curled letters and love infused in every line. Yuuri still gets a little lightheaded when he thinks about Viktor’s true nature, ethereal and magnificent and otherworldly, and wonders constantly why one of the most powerful faeries chose to court him, a human.
It’s unthinkable, yet here they are.
Yuuri covers his mouth to stifle a cough as he sets the letter down. Viktor had mentioned these rogues briefly in their last encounter—those who were dissatisfied with his mother’s rule and would love nothing more than to see the Nikiforov regime end. Yuuri knows next to nothing about fae politics, but he’s also not entirely sure how much he needs to.
Once in the bathroom, Yuuri steps into the shower’s steaming spray, pushing his hair back as the heat washes away the lingering chill from his body. The contents of Viktor’s letter still run through his mind, filling him with a worry that he can’t quite get rid of. The last line sticks out in particular. Be watchful? Who is he supposed to watch out for?
Phichit is waiting with a steaming mug of green tea once Yuuri steps out of his room, dressed in a set of fresh pajamas, and Yuuri accepts it gratefully. The liquid slips down his throat, soothing the ache at least for a little while.
“You’re seeing Viktor tomorrow, right?” Phichit asks, glancing up from his laptop as Yuuri takes another sip of tea.
Yuuri shakes his head. “He got held up at home. Family business. He doesn’t know how long he’ll be away.” He must sound more wistful than he thought because Phichit’s lips begin to curl up into a smirk.
“Can’t function without your boy?”
Yuuri flushes, ignoring that Phichit called Viktor—an all-powerful being who was born millennia ago—his boy . The thought is almost ridiculous. “I’ve survived twenty-two years without Viktor. I’m sure I can handle at least a week.”
But a few days later, there is another letter from Viktor, in which he apologizes and says that he needs more time. Then a few days turn to several, then more, and before long—Yuuri will not have seen Viktor for nearly two weeks. He tries not to feel lonely in Viktor’s absence, throwing himself into the rest of his schoolwork as a distraction.
As he continues to stifle cough after cough in the meantime, Yuuri feels like he’s dying.
It’s an exaggeration, of course, but it doesn’t feel like it when he’s hidden his face behind a flu mask for half a month. He’s afraid to admit it, but… his cold has gotten worse. Yuuri keeps this from Viktor with each exchanged letter on his windowsill—who knows how he would react to a silly human illness?—and instead shoves a combination of cough drops and over-the-counter medicine down his ravaged throat in the hope that they’ll soothe it. They haven’t quite done their job yet, making Yuuri worry. He can’t afford to get sick, neither academically or financially—so he decides to push through and hope that he’ll get over this soon.
He couldn’t have been more wrong.
At work the next day, Leo frowns at the sight of Yuuri’s flu mask, and the deep circles under his eyes. His coughing was bothersome enough that he’d taken to wearing the mask when he went out, and even in the apartment to not get Phichit sick. The downside to the flu mask, though—it makes it harder to catch his breath.
“Yuuri, you should have called in sick if you were feeling this bad,” Leo reproaches, crouching down next to Yuuri and rubbing his back. “I could’ve handled it today.”
Yuuri shakes his head and takes a shuddering breath, his lungs taking in the air greedily. His latest coughing fit had sent him to the ground for at least ten seconds, and Yuuri can’t be thankful enough that there weren’t any customers around them to witness this.
“And leave you here alone?” Yuuri wheezes, accepting Leo’s help in getting up. “I needed the money, and it’s not a big deal—I should be getting better soon anyway.”
Leo doesn’t look convinced, already pulling out his phone. “Wait here, I’m gonna call Phichit. You need to go home , Yuuri. I’ll be fine here until someone else comes in to take over for you.”
Yuuri shakes his head and regrets it when he stumbles, feeling dizzy. “No, it’s okay—”
But then he starts to cough again, much more severe than the last. His throat burns like he’s been gargling liquid flame, and Yuuri grips the counter with both hands to steady himself. He can’t breathe he can’t breathe—
“Yuuri!”
His vision blurs and darkens around the edges, and then…
There is nothing.
Marble ceiling tiles are the first thing that greet him when Yuuri opens his eyes.
The shop. Leo. He doesn’t remember anything else after that.
“Yuuri! You’re awake!”
“Phichit?” Yuuri mumbles, turning his head. He’s in the break room. “What… what am I doing here?”
“Leo called me, panicking, and said that you passed out.” Yuuri’s vision is blurry without his glasses so he has to squint to make out Phichit’s features, but the concern in his voice is unmistakable as Phichit lays a palm over his forehead. “You don’t even have a fever… Have you seen a doctor yet?”
“Soon,” Yuuri lies. He swings his legs over the side of the couch and reaches for his glasses, blinking as everything comes back into focus. He stumbles when he gets to his feet, but steadies himself on Phichit’s shoulder.
“I’m parked in the back,” Phichit says, hooking Yuuri’s arm around his shoulders, and Yuuri hears the unspoken worry for what it is.
“Thanks, Phichit,” Yuuri says softly.
They shuffle along to the back of the shop where Phichit is parked, and Yuuri rests his head against the cool glass of the window when he’s finally seated. Exhaustion is seeping deep into his bones and muscles, weighing them down, and Yuuri wants nothing more than to sleep. On the ride back, Yuuri nods in and out of unconsciousness, only awakening when the car’s low rumbles slow to a stop. He shuffles after Phichit into their apartment and shucks off his shoes, mumbling, “I’m gonna go to bed.”
Phichit’s expression—if possible—becomes even more concerned. “Let me know if you need anything?”
Yuuri nods, winces when his head starts to pound, then gives a weak smile. “Will do.”
An itch has been building in his throat ever since they first stepped inside the building, and Yuuri lifts a hand to rip off his flu mask before entering his room. Another letter from Viktor sits on the windowsill, and Yuuri starts to cough again when he picks it up.
Yuuri, my love,
Are you able to meet tomorrow? Everything is over, and I am finally free to see you. I’ll be waiting under our tree. You know the one.
Eternally yours,
Viktor
Yuuri’s eyes widen as joy sparks in his heart. Tomorrow. He’s seeing Viktor tomorrow!
But then Yuuri doubles over as the cough increases in intensity, and he slaps his hands over his mouth unthinkingly. The paper crinkles as it’s pressed against his skin.
Then a sharp pain stabs his throat—
Yuuri coughs again—
And then Yuuri freezes at the warmth that splashes into his hands, staring at them in horror. Shit, Yuuri thinks wildly, casting his eyes around the room in search of a tissue. The letter flutters to the floor as Yuuri coughs again, feeling faint as he struggles to breathe.
Crimson droplets pepper the otherwise pristine parchment.
Viktor is already waiting for him when Yuuri walks into the park. He’s leaning on their tree, looking pensive and elegant—every inch a fae prince. But then Viktor perks up when he sees Yuuri approach, waving excitedly and thereby shattering that stoic image. Yuuri wonders if any person on the fae court has ever seen Viktor like this; carefree and bright.
Yuuri has a fresh flu mask on, a bag full of cough drops in his pocket, and he’s wrapped in more layers than are probably necessary for their outing. Despite everything he has on though, the wind seems to rip through them, making Yuuri shiver.
“Yuuri!” Viktor calls, lighting up when they make eye contact. His long hair is pulled into a ponytail today, and combined with the thick purple sweater that hangs on his torso, Viktor could nearly pass for human.
Nearly , if not for the pointed ears and the spark of power that thrums under Yuuri’s skin when Viktor presses his lips to his knuckles. That rush couldn’t originate from anything human.
“You look pale,” Viktor observes when Yuuri gets closer, his beautiful face shifting into a slight frown. “That mask—are you sick?”
Yuuri nods, tugging at it nervously. “There was a rainstorm the other day and I forgot an umbrella. Stupid of me, I know.”
Viktor looks at him solemnly. “I’ll remind you next time it rains. I don’t want you becoming sick again.” He rests a hand against Yuuri’s chilled cheek. “Are you well enough to stay out here? We can move somewhere else that’s more suitable.”
“No, I’m okay. You’re warm, anyway.”
Viktor laughs, wrapping his arms around Yuuri’s waist. They sway in place, spinning slowly, and Yuuri can feel all his troubles begin to melt away. “Funny thing to tell an ice elemental,” he says, his eyes bright.
“Well, you are,” Yuuri mumbles. “There’s no one who has a warmer heart than you do.”
At those words, Viktor’s smile softens. “How is it that I manage to fall even more in love with you every time we meet? You truly are a wonder, Yuuri Katsuki.”
They stop dancing, and Yuuri rests his head on Viktor’s shoulder, breathing him in. The letters weren’t the same as having Viktor here now. “I missed you, Vitya.”
“Oh, darling.” Viktor’s hand cards through Yuuri’s hair. “I’ve missed you more than you know.”
They sit down on the tarp that Yuuri brought and somehow, Yuuri ends up leaning against the tree trunk while Viktor rests his head in Yuuri’s lap. One of his hands begin playing with Viktor’s ponytail, feeling the silky weight of it, while the other pulls up the list of “fae facts” he’s compiled since their last meeting.
“What is your newest finding?” Viktor murmurs, and Yuuri’s eyes zero in on the top of the new list.
“Do you have another form?” Yuuri asks, peering around his phone and at Viktor. “You mentioned wings last time.”
“I have a true form with wings, yes, but I prefer to remain in this human guise around you. Most find my appearance… displeasing.” Then Yuuri touches Viktor’s pointy ears, silently questioning, and Viktor closes his eyes, looking content. “I keep those because I trust you, Yuuri.”
Yuuri blinks. “Oh.” Viktor’s trust—as Yuuri has quickly learned—is something precious, closely guarded from everyone. Everyone, it seems, except for a select few. And Yuuri has somehow managed to be included among that small number.
“Anything else?” Viktor asks.
Yuuri brings his arm up to stifle the cough building in his throat, holding back a grimace at the taste of blood. He swallows. “Um, let’s see…” he says, trying to refocus on his phone. “Is it true that iron and salt can trap fae?”
Viktor hums, taking longer to answer this time. “Maybe lesser folk,” he finally says.
“Like the rogues?”
“Mmm.”
“And you?”
Even if Yuuri wasn’t looking right at him, there’s no way he could miss the smile in Viktor’s voice. “They can certainly try.” Then Viktor tilts his head back and says, his teasing smile fading, “Your questions are different today. What brought this on?”
Yuuri shrugs, ignoring the itch in his throat. He pops another cough drop in his mouth, and his face screws up at the familiar taste of menthol. “I… I guess I realized I didn’t know as much about your world as I should,” he finally says. “Me being human and being politically and culturally ignorant? I can’t imagine that everyone appreciates that you’re courting me.”
“…Maybe,” Viktor admits after a few moments, meaning yes in Viktor-speak. “There may be some dissenters, but I assure you that they’re the minority. Their opinions have no sway over me.” His voice is softer when he speaks again. “Do you wish to ask me anything else?”
Yuuri smiles back, his heart bubbling over with affection even as he coughs again. “No. I’m good for now.”
Viktor rubs the back of Yuuri’s hand. “All right. How have you been doing, Yuuri? Anything happen?”
Yuuri opens his mouth to respond, but he chokes when another series of wet coughs seize his body instead. “Sorry—” he gasps, turning away from Viktor to avoid coughing on him. Tears leak from his eyes as he wheezes, and Viktor’s eyes flash with concern and… fear?
“You said you were sick,” Viktor says, sitting up and taking Yuuri’s wrists in his. “Darling, you’re ice cold. And nothing’s helped?”
“I told you, I got sick after getting caught in the rain two weeks ago, it’s no—” Yuuri rips himself away from Viktor’s hold as another set of coughs wreak havoc on his abused throat, and he suddenly feels even more nauseous when his hand comes away splattered with red, even with the flu mask as a barrier. He rips it off.
Viktor’s expression is thunderous. “Two weeks ago,” he repeats. “Who did this to you?”
“Viktor—no, it’s nothing, I just got a little sick—” Yuuri’s cut off by another round of coughs, more brutal than the last, and it feels like a knife is scraping the inside his throat.
“ Yuuri!”
Black spots begin to dance in front of Yuuri’s vision, making him sway and nearly fall to the ground, but Viktor grips him tight as he continues to cough blood into his palms. Viktor is shouting something—panicked cries of his name, curses, and then finally something sonorous that strikes through the air and hums with power, letting Yuuri breathe.
Tears stream down his cheeks as he gasps, finally taking in oxygen. If he didn’t know any better, Yuuri would’ve thought he’s been gargling broken glass, but the coughing has abated at least for now. Yuuri then realizes he’s still doubled over, his forehead nearly touching the blanket they had spread over the grass. His breaths are heavy and ragged, and tears plip down onto the tarp.
Arms wrap around his waist, and Yuuri allows himself to be gathered into Viktor’s hold. He stays there for a while, waiting for his heartbeat to settle and for his breathing to even out. Then he whispers, wiping off his hands and mouth onto a nearby tissue, “I’m sorry. You didn’t have to see this.”
Viktor’s arms tighten around him. “Don’t be.” Then he says, “Yuuri, did you experience anything strange that day in the rain? Anything that didn’t feel normal.”
“No… but I did run into someone,” Yuuri says slowly, trying to remember. “It was raining hard enough that I couldn’t see him until we collided. My shoulder ended up bruising.”
Viktor stiffens. “Show me your shoulder,” he urges. There’s something in his expression that scares him, and Viktor’s voice softens when he realizes. “Please, Yuuri.”
Yuuri knows that the bruise is yellowing now, close to fading away, but he obliges. “It’s almost gone, but here.”
Viktor’s eyes widen when he sees it, something sparking in his eyes. “Did he say anything to you?”
Yuuri’s face scrunches up. “He… he said ‘You should be,’ after I apologized.”
Then Viktor swears, startling him. Viktor never swore. “How could this have happened?” he whispers. The world seems to hold its breath as well—waiting for Viktor to make his next move. “The rogues—I should’ve known . I should’ve kept you safe.”
“What…?” Yuuri asks, confused. “I—I don’t—”
“He planted this with the intent to kill you,” Viktor says, cold anger rippling through his voice.
Yuuri’s grip on his jacket slackens as the realization rips through him, and Viktor’s arm reaches out to touch his bruised skin. His touch is gentle, but Yuuri flinches back when pain tears through the spot Viktor has touched. “Sorry—” Yuuri chokes out, but Viktor has already pulled back, his expression steely as he studies it. The fading bruise has vanished, replaced instead with blood-red runes, stark against his skin. Viktor’s touch—the touch of fae royalty—must have been strong enough to reveal the mark’s true nature.
“It’s not your fault.” Then Viktor holds his hand out again, his fingers resting just over Yuuri’s shoulder. His gaze is steady. “I can remove this, but I won’t lie to you—this is going to hurt, especially since the curse has been on you for so long. Will you let me?”
Yuuri nods, biting his lip and turning his face away. But even with the warning, Yuuri could have never imagined this kind of pain as Viktor begins his work. It latches deep within him, going past the surface of his skin and stabbing brutally. Viktor’s touch feels like a brand—white-hot and agonizing, and Yuuri can hardly hold back the scream that threatens to tear out of his throat. Steam erupts from between Viktor’s fingers as he pullspullspulls the curse from Yuuri’s soul, stemming from where the sparks of cursed fire meet Viktor’s icy magic, but Viktor pays them no mind even as his fingers burn.
And with each rune that Viktor tears from his body, the pain lessens. Yuuri can feel something unravel from deep within him, releasing pressure from his chest and spreading warmth throughout his limbs. Viktor’s eyes flash blue, and light surrounds them as the curse is destroyed. Fatigue suddenly settles over Yuuri like a thick blanket, and he tips forward into Viktor’s waiting arms. Viktor squeezes him, and it’s then that Yuuri realizes Viktor is shaking .
“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Viktor whispers into Yuuri’s hair, and Yuuri isn’t sure whether he’s trying to convince Yuuri or himself. “How could this have happened?”
“Vitya…” Yuuri says, reaching up to hold Viktor’s face in his hands. “This isn’t your fault. I should’ve told you.”
Viktor shakes his head. “You wouldn’t have known to look for something like this. Fae curses are almost too compatible with mortal souls.” His hands clench. “But what angers me most is that we were never the target. You were. If we didn’t catch them when we did—” Viktor shudders, and Yuuri can practically see the rage leaving his body as he slumps forward against Yuuri’s shoulder. “You could’ve died, and I would have never been able to forgive myself.”
“But I’m here now,” Yuuri soothes. “You saved me. I’m okay—”
“For now . I know better than anyone how low a desperate fae can stoop,” Viktor says, his voice uncharacteristically bitter, and Yuuri realizes that Viktor is going to continue to blame himself if Yuuri doesn’t knock some sense into him.
“Viktor, listen to me,” Yuuri says, fixing him with a firm look. “This was not your fault, so stop beating yourself up over this! All we can do is try to be more prepared if this happens again.” Then he smiles. “If we’re going to be together for the rest of our lives, I want to learn everything about your world—including how to protect myself. Why do you think I ask all these questions?”
Viktor doesn’t respond for a few moments, his eyes wide as he stares at him, and Yuuri suddenly worries that he’s said the wrong thing. But as soon as that thought crosses his mind, Viktor sighs and touches his forehead against Yuuri’s.
“I’ve lived for thousands of years, yet nothing surprises me more than you do,” he whispers, his gaze intense, and Yuuri meets his eyes steadily. Viktor’s lips quirk up into a small smile. “Then,” he says, pulling back, “I suppose that the first thing I can give you to protect yourself is my Name.”
Yuuri tilts his head, his nose scrunching up. “Your name? But don’t I know it already?”
“My True Name,” Viktor corrects, his expression gentle, “is something different. All fae, regardless of who they are, have one. So with this, I’ll be able to protect you even when I’m not by your side. At least,” he adds, “until you learn how to ward off curses and the like on your own.” He shifts to his feet, and Yuuri joins him, albeit shakily. “Names have power, and with one as powerful as mine—you won’t be bothered for a while. Just don’t share it with anyone else,” Viktor teases.
Yuuri blinks up at him, taking in his kind eyes and trusting smile. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Viktor’s smile widens, and he leans in close. His breath ghosts over Yuuri’s ear. “Then, Yuuri Katsuki,” Viktor whispers, sending shivers coursing through his body, “my Name is—”
As Viktor speaks his Name, a sudden rush of energy shoots down Yuuri’s spine, igniting him from the inside out. His knees threaten to give way with the sheer weight of it, and his eyes widen when he realizes. This was Viktor’s true power? Yuuri had completely underestimated it. It was there while Viktor removed the curse from his body, but Viktor’s power is completely different now in its purest form. The waves within his body batter him, making Yuuri struggle to stay upright as his knees continue to tremble, but Viktor’s grip on him is firm. Strong. There’s no way he would let Yuuri fall.
It seems like an eternity has passed when the deluge of power finally subsides, and Yuuri realizes that his leftover curse-exhaustion has vanished. He glances up at Viktor, wide-eyed, and Viktor smiles.
“That should do it,” Viktor murmurs, a satisfied look on his face. “How do you feel?”
“Different,” Yuuri admits. His face scrunches up. “It… was a lot more intense than I thought it’d be.”
Viktor laughs. “Ah, well, that’s to be expected—your body isn’t used to holding this much energy. But now, you’ll have some in reserve when I start teaching you how to harness it.” He takes Yuuri’s right hand and flips it over, palm-side down. Then he says, looking a little hesitant now, “I have one more thing for you, if you’re okay with that.”
Yuuri softens, recognizing Viktor’s apprehension. Viktor never pushes, instead meeting Yuuri where he is and letting him proceed at his own pace; it’s one of the things Yuuri loves most about him.
“What is it?”
“Another shield,” Viktor explains, holding out a ring with his other hand and only slipping it on Yuuri’s finger when he nods in assent. “It’s a bit unnecessary now, but I’d still like you to have it. It’s infused with my hair and will ward off almost anything—”
He’s rambling now. A rare moment for Viktor Nikiforov, Yuuri thinks, his heart full to bursting with love. He throws himself into Viktor’s arms, and smiles when Viktor catches him around the waist. “Stay close to me,” Yuuri breathes when he pulls back.
“Forever,” Viktor says, gaze tender. He gathers Yuuri back into his arms. “There’s no one else I’d rather spend eternity with.”
Eternity. Yuuri will never get tired of the way that sounds.