Chapter Text
Had Victor known how important that day was going to be, he’d have done things differently.
(But you know what they say about hindsight… that it’s a cruel, mocking bitch and friend to no one.)
One of the fluorescents in the ceiling was blinking overhead, distracting Victor from Lamar’s rap in Radioactive blaring through his earphones. Never once in the four years that the team had been using this gym had the bulbs ever thrown a fit, and that, coupled with the gentle telltale cascade of shower droplets to the linoleum below were nothing but mild irritants when he first realised he wasn’t alone in the locker room.
He didn’t much welcome any sort of change to routine, a creature of habit through and through.
Looking up, he noticed the curtain drawn in the last stall, the silhouette of hands running down a slim figure becoming clear through the little-more-than-transparent, pink shower curtains. He spared a second to wonder who it could be, before deciding it didn’t matter either way. He enjoyed taking a few minutes to warm up, run laps around the field by himself before practice but given that those few minutes were of no deeper importance he didn’t mind the early bird too much. What’s in a day?
(Everything.)
Setting about his business, Victor unlaced his shoes and stripped off his jeans and t-shirt, the movements already beginning to steal the tension from his shoulders. The two hours spent on the hockey field were the break from his tiring days he knew he couldn’t do without. Technically, the exercise should leave him wearier, but nothing compared to the freedom of the dirty, open field, where everything except the sticks in their hands and the ball, playing hide-and-seek between their shoes, seized to matter. It was liberating and his body had learned to look forward to the pain and exhaustion that came after every practice.
He was in the process of pulling out his jersey from his sports bag when he heard a little surprised squeak and looked up.
Wide, cognac eyes and lips forming a soft o of surprise greeted him. The boy was probably a junior, and definitely not on the hockey team for Victor had never seen him before. He was vaguely aware that dance practices were the closest to their slot but they usually ended by four every day. The gym was supposed to be strictly for the use of the hockey and basketball teams, but given how the latter had practice right after school and the former had them at five, there was generally no one around.
He must not have known Victor was already in the gym, for he had walked out of the shower naked and dripping wet, tan skin gleaming the way Victor could only dream of, given how easily he, himself got sunburned. Though the Japanese boy didn’t seem to mind his nudity awfully, for he gave Victor an acknowledging half-smile and moved to where his bag sat on the bench right by the Russian’s, which he had completely missed when he started undressing barely a foot from it.
“S-sorry, I thought I had a few minutes before anyone arrived.” The Junior’s hands worked quickly, tugging away the flaps on his bag, pulling out a fluffy towel and draping it around his shapely waist that curved smoothly into a bubbly ass and thick thighs. Victor decided it was a safe bet that this boy was on the dance team.
“I like to have the field to myself for a couple of minutes before anyone else gets here” Victor explained, smiling slightly. “It’s no big deal.”
The boy nodded, before pulling out a smaller, powder blue hand towel and running it across his neck. Victor watched as water droplets chased each other down the boy’s sharp collarbones and smooth abs before losing themselves in the fine fibers of the towel tied snugly around his hips.
Victor tore his eyes away, lifting the jersey over his head and smoothing it down his chest, before resuming looking for his track pants. The boy sat down on the bench next to his bag and pulled out his boxers before trying to slip them on from under the towel.
The silence grew between them, and unable to help his curiosity, Victor asked, “You on the dance team?”
The Japanese boy looked up from his self-inflicted tug of war with his towel and boxers, which Victor didn’t see the point of because he had seen everything moments ago anyway which the stranger didn’t seem to mind, and nodded. He didn’t appear eager to venture more information, however, so Victor continued to prod.
“We have never had dancers using these showers before.”
Bending down to tie up his laces, he didn’t catch the sheepish smile tugging on the boy’s face as he ran a hand through his jet black hair. Later, Victor would wonder if he dyed it because how else was it possible to have hair that dark and shiny?
“Uh, yeah, I stayed back with Miss Okukawa today and when I got to our gym the janitor had already locked up.”
Humming in response, Victor straightened and noticed he had succeeded in pulling up his jeans too, towels now lying bundled up into smaller plastic bags, probably to avoid soaking the rest of his things.
“Junior year?”, he asked conversationally, because what else was he supposed to do? Silence was too personal, too giving a thing to be shared with someone he didn’t know. It left gaping blanks and he had no control over what people decided to fill them up with. Victor had always felt safest in mindless chatter and small-talk.
“Yeah. I am Yuuri Katsuki.”
The boy, Yuuri, gave him a watery smile that seemed polite at best, dis-engaging at worst. It left Victor feeling strangely untethered.
“Victor Nikiforov,” He was about to offer his hand the way he had always been taught to, just as Yuuri shoved his own back into his bag to look for his shirt, and the Russian was infinitely glad he didn’t catch the awkward fumble Victor did to retract his proffered handshake quickly.
A small noise of relief fluttered past Yuuri’s lips as he finally found his shirt and tugged it on. It was a well-fitting half-sleeved button-down in the most unflattering shade of teal but Victor reserved his fashion advice for friends so he refrained from allowing his lip to curl in distaste.
Quickly, Yuuri buttoned up his shirt as Victor sat down and pulled out his phone, out of things to say in the face of Yuuri’s obstinate desire to not let any thread of conversation continue. Generally speaking, people went out of their way to talk to Victor so this was just a little strange. He was not used to anyone being disinterested in him.
Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched Yuuri slick his sloppy wet bangs back, the light from the ceiling bulbs catching the water droplets so that the thick locks appeared to shimmer, and alright, with that face he probably could pull this horrible shirt off but that didn’t mean it had any right to exist, really and…
Yuuri caught his eye and raised a brow before a smile quirked up his lips, smaller than the first and nicer somehow. Less icy.
Victor almost smirked at the irony of that statement, wondering if that was how everybody on the receiving end of his own smiles felt.
“Nice to meet you, Victor. Best of luck with your practice.”
“Thanks!” Victor called out behind Yuuri’s fast receding back, and that was it. That completely non-climatic meeting was the beginning of Victor’s undoing.
(Victor Nikiforov wasn’t meant to exist in a world where he didn’t know Katsuki Yuuri.)
…
The next time Victor saw Yuuri was slightly more memorable, not that he had managed to forget the locker room scenes, as habitual as he was to forgetting anything vaguely unimportant. This time was in the school cafeteria, during lunch.
Yurio was blushing to the tips of his ears, which was new, and enraged, which wasn’t.
“What’s happening?” Victor sat down in his usual seat and turned to Georgi and Christie.
It was Mila who answered him.
“Yura’s got a little crush and we’re going to get them talking.” She sang the last word out, her voice carrying clear over the ruckus of the lunch hour, and gave the violently screaming freshman a mocking shove of her shoulder. Victor had no idea how she managed to be that unafraid of Yuri Plisetsky but he had decided early on that he didn’t possess her skills.
Or suicidal tendencies. However you choose to look at it.
“Oh?” He picked out his juice box, absently poking a straw into it.
“I just like his dance routines, you brainless hag!”
‘Yuuri dances.’
It was a fairly simple thought, a fairly simple thought that absolutely did not belong in Victor’s mind and hence, a surprise. Experimentally, Victor pawed at it and contrary to habit, found it pleasant enough to not be brushed away.
“You had him on your wallpaper.”, Mila teased. From behind her, Sara gave Victor an exaggerated eye-roll. Yuri spluttered, indignant.
‘And wait, what? Him?’
All of a sudden, Victor’s eyes were scorching over Yuri’s profile with a newfound curiosity, picking at layers, examining and discarding them when he didn’t find what he was looking for.
Yuri didn’t seem gay.
“It’s not on you, Yurio” Mila remarked. A tan hand now tightened onto Mila’s shoulder, her cue to shut up which she promptly ignored. “He is too cute to resist.”
Victor hummed questioningly.
Slapping a hand over his mouth to muffle Yuri’s vicious complaints, Mila leaned over, eyes the size of saucers. She was enjoying this.
“He leads the dance team, and God, his ass!”, Mila groaned and dunked her head down onto the table, continuing to mumble some more besotted nonsense. Victor snickered and cocked a brow at the blonde Freshman.
“I never knew you were into pretty dancers, Yura.”
Yuri tried to wrestle Mila’s hand away, only to get whacked up the head.
“It’s not only that. He looks so cute, and so, I don't know, mysteriously aloof.” Sara supplied, tone amused at her own choice of words. Victor shared the sentiment. Mysteriously aloof? Really?
“He likes to keep to himself but given how popular he is, honestly feels like you are a part of an exclusive, special clique if you’re in his circle.” Was Georgi’s input.
"Can confirm,” Sara said.
“Wow. How have I never heard of him before? What was his name again?”, Victor asked.
“Yuuri!” Mila hailed out loud, interrupting Georgi. Victor turned around and yes, it was him.
It was him.
He didn’t stop to question why it mattered or why his eyes narrowed immediately on the slender figure poised a few feet away from their table, only reveled in chocolate eyes brushing over him, and embellished his own face with a polite smile.
The Japanese boy was wearing glasses today. They looked nice, gave him an air of intelligence.
Reluctantly, Yuuri waved at their table, only for Sara to ask him to come over while Mila whispered hushed taunts in Yuri’s pinking ear. He was surprised to find that was who Yuri had a crush on, but at the same time not. Yuuri Katsuki seemed like a perfectly decent man to lose your shit over, and if it was a little weird to share a name with your crush, well, that was Yuri’s business alone. At least he had better taste in men than in hoodies.
“Hi” Yuuri greeted them, received friendly smiles and waves from everyone, and an indignant glare from Yuri that he seemed to stutter at for a second before becoming hell-bent on ignoring.
“Come sit with us for today!” Sara gestured at the empty spot next to Victor before turning teasing eyes on Phichit Chulanont, who was apparently hanging out with Yuuri today.
“Phichit, you won’t mind parting with him for one day, would you?” Sara demanded, playfully.
“Bring me Seung Gil’s number and I won’t.” Phichit cocked a neatly plucked, thick black brow as he smirked at the better Crispino twin. Yuuri playfully jabbed at his side.
“Selling me out for booty, are you?” He questioned. His shoulders were tense, Victor noticed.
(Of course, he noticed. He had spent so long plucking those chinks out of his own armor.)
“Deal!” Sara shouted before grabbing Yuuri’s hand across the table and tugging him down roughly, He spread his hands out to brace himself and while the left landed on the edge of the table, his right palm fell flat on top of Victor’s thigh, which he immediately retracted before Victor could even fully register the touch.
“S-sorry.” He muttered, sheepishly.
“You really need to stop starting our conversations with that.”, Victor chuckled and found his smile broadening in an involuntary attempt to ease the solitary wrinkle wedged between Yuuri’s brows.
Yuuri smiled. The wrinkle left. Victor’s eyes crinkled slightly.
Opposite from them, a knife found itself wedged into the table.
Alarmed, Victor turned to meet acid green eyes staring right into his with all the self-righteous ferocity he had forgotten fifteen-year-olds could possess. Curling his lip in dismissal, Yuri then turned to glare at Yuuri instead.
“Get up. You aren’t needed here.” He ground out and Victor found his eyes widening.
To Yuri’s right, Mila gasped.
Yuuri frowned slightly.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me, pig. Get up so I don’t have to watch you two make eyes at each other and can actually eat my lunch.”
In a second, Victor deflated in exasperation, shaking his head at his cousin. What was this? Petty jealousy? Yuri knew he was straight!
Giving Yuri an unimpressed glare, he turned to Yuuri. The Japanese man’s expression was pinched again and before he knew it Victor found himself tapping a finger against Yuuri’s clenched ones, drawing the brunette’s attention to himself.
“Don’t mind him. He’s a child, angsty phase and all that.”
“Doesn’t give him any right to be a fucking dick.” Phichit sneered from where he stood behind Yuuri, arms folded and eyes brimming with anger. Victor had played on the same team as Chulanont for two years now and he knew the Thai reserved this expression of pure contempt for the field.
Clearly, Yuuri was important to him.
Before more words could be exchanged, Yuuri was out of his seat and pushing Phichit away, while Mila slapped a hand on Yuri’s mouth again, who seemed to be trying to incinerate the Thai boy with the intensity of his glare, now that spewing verbal poison was out of the question.
Victor shook his head at the absurdity of it all.
…
That night found Victor lounging in his room, Def Leppard blaring on the huge dec system his parents still didn’t approve of him having, procrastinating when he knew he should be working like any high-schooler worth the title. On nights like this one, he would pretend his mother was calling for him and that he wasn’t responding, choosing to ignore her for his favorites of Classic Rock. In reality, he would never dare to ignore his parents, blaming the loud volume for whatever few seconds of delay he ended up causing being the height of his rebellion.
Presently, he was alone in the house, save for the servants who won’t bother to smile at Victor, and whose names in turn Victor never bothered to learn. It was a calculated relationship of measured disregard and it was the least strained relationship Victor had with anyone in the house.
Scrolling through Instagram, he stifled a yawn, fingers sweeping across his phone screen mindlessly till a username caught his attention and he sat up.
yuuri.katsuki
He hadn’t seen him again after Yuri’s outburst in the cafeteria but he did meet Phichit during practice. When he asked him if Yuuri was fine he received a smile and a ‘don’t worry' but that was the extent of his contact with the Japanese boy for the day. Curiously, he clicked onto the Instagram ID flashing in his suggestions, fingers already poised to hit follow when he realized the ID was private and had a low follower count of 139, while the following list was bursting at 2,814.
He wondered if Yuuri would accept his request. Not paying it too much mind, he clicked on the blue bar before moving to the solitary blue link displayed in Yuuri’s otherwise empty bio.
He was redirected to a YouTube account.
A few glances at the titles of the clips listed revealed it was the official account of their school’s dance team, the Downtown Dragons. Who came up with that ridiculous name was still as big a mystery as who stuck gum in Rebecka Warren’s hair before Prom last year but everybody’s money was on their principal given her reluctance to change it.
Secretly Victor thought the legendary Okukawa Minako was enough of an undercover dork to have picked that name, too.
His eyes narrowed on the thumbnail of the second clip, and what looked to be Yuuri in the little square. He clicked on it.
Victor knew that song. It was by Zella Day and he was pretty sure it was called Hypnotic or Hypnotised or Hypnosis or something along those lines. On the screen, the solitary figure of who he recognised as Isabella Yang, JJ’s long term girlfriend, was in a crouch, doing some frankly difficult looking lock-and-pop shoulder movements in time with the building tempo of the song before rising to her feet and sauntering confidently to the middle of the room. The lyrics started flowing, a movement followed it to the side, and oh.
There he was. Victor’s eyes hadn’t deceived him.
Twenty seconds into Yuuri joining Isabella and he had completely overshadowed her, despite not being the lead. Victor didn’t know anything about dancing beyond what any frequent partier would, that is to say, absolutely nothing when it came to professional dancing. Yet, it was clear even to his unseasoned eyes that Yuuri was incredibly talented, his body moving with a liquid grace which formed a stark contrast against the strictly controlled and measured step sequences his legs were effortlessly following. At one point, he twirled Isabella, bringing her head to rest against the back of his right hand before dipping her to the left in the jerky, short movements that seemed to characterize this number. Then he stepped over her frame and their bodies met together in twin waves, hips colliding in a singular grind before they pulled away, expressions just the right edge of teasing, flirting.
The tempo of the song was too heavy to be playful. It was heady, consuming. Yuuri paused and licked his lips as his eyes ran over Isabella’s dainty fingers walking up the sides of her body. They had chemistry together, and they portrayed the song’s sexual tension so well it had Victor’s knuckles turning white on the edges of his phone. He couldn’t look away from them, from him.
Before he knew it, the video had ended and he was replaying it, eyes lapping up the sensual twists of the body he had seen naked just a handful of days ago, and really, why had he never heard of Yuuri before?
Most of the videos on the channel featured Yuuri, some in a group, others solo, and yet more where he was partnered with Isabella. Victor subscribed to the channel and promised himself he would allow himself two more clips of solo Yuuri before he finally got down to the Geography assignment he had due the next day. He would stop after two last videos, he swore.
He didn’t. Then again, he reasoned, who could ever look away from Yuuri?
He was just that good.
(Victor had seen nothing yet.)