muttthecowcat | Yoi Secret Santa Fic

This was my secret santa for @awesome-cookies-and-cream over on tumblr! It was based on this artwork for the anime’s anniversary! I used that as a really loose prompt.

--

Yuuri sits, hunched into his shoulders, twiddling his thumbs. Everything feels the same, and yet, so different than it had a year earlier.

The airport looks the same, nothing’s changed, right down to the dull tiled floor. Passengers continuously file out of customs from behind the glass wall in front of him. But none of them are the one he’s looking for.

The flight was delayed, then delayed again.

And it’s cold. Yuuri pulls his coat and scarf tighter around himself. Makkachin huffs from where she’s asleep on the floor beside his foot. Yuuri’s eyes are slowly drifting closed when his phone rings.

Yuuri - Hi. The voice on the line is the same but quiet and tired. It’s been delayed.

Yuuri groans. “Not again.” He’s been at the airport the entire day, and the exhaustion pulls at him.

I think you should go home.

“No!” But the word isn’t as confident as what he intends it to be. He rubs one hand behind his glasses. “I wanted to meet you here.”

My flight might not leave until tomorrow, solnysko. Go home, Yuuuuri?

Yuuri shuffles his feet. Makkachin twitches next to them. “Okay,” he mumbles.

I’ll see you soon.

“See you soon. Love you.”

He still winces as the line goes dead.

Makkachin whines as they walk through the cold parking lot alone. They shuffle into Mari’s old car, and the lights of the city and the snow flurries pass them by until they fade into nothing. Hasetsu is dark when they pull into town, but the onsen glowing warm beneath a fine layer of white powder.

It’s the same as he left it that morning, the same as it had been a year before. Except. There’s flowers everywhere. They cover the tables, the counter, even some of the walls in pinks, yellows, even blues. For their wedding. His mom wanted them to be able to choose.

She’s waiting for him. He watches her face fall as she realizes he is alone. He hugs her anyway, explains the latest delay, then goes to soak away his worries in the hot springs.

The hot water fights away the cold. Yuuri sinks into it, and it should be relaxing. It really should. Except, it’s not even a formed thought, just an itch at the back of Yuuri’s mind that plagues him. He stands from the water and makes him way back inside where Makkachin is waiting for him near a table surrounded by flowers in the main guest room.

They’re going to miss their first anniversary. It’s such a shallow thing to think about. Yuuri doesn’t know why he’s worried about it.

Yuuri does know that he hasn’t seen Victor in months, and they’re planning their wedding, and they’re going to get married, and they haven’t even managed to live in the same country for half the year.

His eyes begin to drift closed, and he lays down beside Makkachin. He can’t think of going back to his room alone, isolated. His dad dims the lights as he finishes the next day’s prep work in the kitchen, and the flowers and Makka’s curls are the last things Yuuri sees before he falls asleep.

He’s woken by a gentle rubbing on his back and pressure on his arms. The lights are still dimmed, the onsen quiet. Makkachin’s curls are gone, but something else warm has taken their place.

He recognizes the silver hair immediately but can’t seem to remember why it’s surprising.

“Victor?”

“Yuuri.” His voice is strained, quiet, not like himself. And suddenly he’s pulled Yuuri off the ground into a tight hug, his face buried in Yuuri’s shoulder. Yuuri presses into him just as tightly, his coat beneath Yuuri’s fingers still wet from the snow. “Happy Anniversary,” he says.

And Yuuri can see the clock in the kitchen. It’s well past midnight, 3 am to be exact. A year ago, he would have despaired over the finality of it, the sense of irretrievable time. But it doesn’t matter anymore. “Happy Anniversary,” he says instead, “I missed you.”