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Last time he saw Yuuri crying in a bathroom, he’d placed last at the Grand Prix Final, but this was a different sort of crying.
He was drunk, first of all, still clutching the bottle of soju in his left hand, and he couldn’t hold back the shuddering sobs, tears and snot streaming down his face. A few years ago, Yuri might’ve said something biting and slammed the door; he stepped in and closed it behind him instead, a single detail catching his eye.
There was the beautiful couple’s golden wedding ring, shimmering in the sink. Yuri sank to his knees on the fluffy blue shower rug, placing a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. “Hey, Katsudon. It’s just me.”
“Why do you always… why do you always gotta call me that?” Yuuri slurred, leaning heavily on the bathtub.
“Why are you crying in the bathroom at your own party?” Yuri asked, not as unkindly as he was wont to. No one had even batted an eye when Yuuri went missing, having assumed he passed out in a corner somewhere after dancing with anyone who’d give him the time. “You know your bedroom’s here, right?”
“Oh shut up. I don’t wanna…” Yuuri’s head lolled, meeting Yuri’s eyes though his own were unfocused. He rubbed his face on the back of his sleeve, hiccuping. “I caught Victor in there. With Chris. Chris.”
That didn’t surprise Yuri, much, but judging by the devastation in Yuuri’s voice, it had come as a shock to him. “Oh?”
“Yeah, fucking… bastard. Stupid, gorgeous bastard,” Yuuri muttered. He tipped the green bottle up to his lips, but it was empty, so he tossed it aside. It didn’t shatter, but it rolled behind the toilet, clattering. “Y’know what he said? He thought we were open.* We never… we never agreed to that.”
It wasn’t much of a stretch to think they hadn’t really discussed monogamy, either. Yuri couldn’t recall a time Victor wasn’t boisterously polyamorous, but he couldn’t say he sensed Yuuri was someone who had considered that sort of lifestyle. He had always seemed more reserved, with his feelings and his sexuality, and it was what first drew Yuri’s eyes to him in the rink.
Yuuri did everything like he was keeping a secret, though Yuri had discovered that was just a ruse. The man in front of him was an anxious, selfish wreck, unable to comprehend that Victor still was undyingly in love with him. And he was sure once sobriety kicked in, they would talk this out.
However, Yuri thought, this might be his only chance.
Gently, he rested a hand on Yuuri’s damp cheek. “Well, that’s not fair, is it?” His eyes were on those lips he’d dreamed about for over a year. “If I were going to cheat on you, I would have done it when you were fat.”
“Fuck you,” Yuuri said, though it coaxed a laugh out of him, too. He placed his hand over Yuri’s. “I think I’m.... gonna go to sleep, alright?”
“Just one second,” Yuri said, and he closed the distance between them, catching Yuuri’s lips in a tender kiss. Yuuri went slack, but Yuri pushed his tongue past his lips, his hand weaving into Yuuri’s short dark hair.
It was thick and silken as he’d always imagined. He pressed closer, his other hand sliding down Yuuri’s chest, a knee between his legs. Still, no response. He pulled back and found the Japanese man very much asleep or at least well on his way to it.
Yuri stood. He left the bathroom and went back to the party to watch the others drink.
It’s not like Yuuri would ever remember, but he would. He touched his lips, still tingling, and thought, They’ll be happy again by morning.