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littlekidsteve · 6 years

Text

Forever small.

(Picture is not mine. copyright where due)

Dad!Shawn Imagine.

Warning- mentions of death, VERY angst filled at the start, and pure fluffy goodness...I hope

word count-2k (Soooooo long)

A/N- this is a story based on the conversation I had with @thatkidwhodreams I’ve been reading some Dad!Shawn story and I’m softer than soft so I hope you enjoy this and as always feedback is always welcomed in this neck of the woods. Also sorry if there is any spelling or grammar mistakes.

“Mr. Mendes I am so sorry but your wife didn’t make it.“

That was it.

He couldn't believe it, he wouldn't believe it. He wanted his ears to deceive him but all they did was tell him the truth, a truth he never wants to hear.

She was gone. The memories of the night before she went to labor began to flood his mind. The words they said to one and other ripped into him like a knife in the gut. He didn't mean to leave them there, he didn't mean to make his wife feel small or forgotten- he just didn't mean it. He regretted all the times he never said I love you to her but he knew that he wants to provide for them and now he knows that he will never get a chance to say sorry.

-Memory-

Shawn couldn't help the uproar he was making but after countless hours of screaming and meaningless words he felt defeated.

"I swear to god Shawn, why did you agree to it?" she screamed at him, she knew that his work meant the world to him but she didn't want to look after a new-born all on her own it was too soon. She couldn't help but think that Andrew was stupid for doing this to them both.

"Maybe I’m doing my job," she couldn't argue with that part but the next part had her red in the face,

"or maybe I need to get away from you. This gig could set us up for life" Shawn shouted.

"Well I’m carrying life the life we made together and if you don't like it get out." She wasn't having any of it her heart was broken enough as it is.

"Fine but I’m not sure if you’re seeing the greater good of this" he left and drove off into the night by the time he got back home she was in labor.

If only he knew this would be the last time they would be together.

-Reality-

She was gone and there was nothing he could do to bringer her back. His eyes burned with molten hot tears and all he could do was sob, he didn't care who saw him at that very moment he couldn’t help it, the pain kept shredding the molecules in this body, time stood still nothing seemed to move as he fell harder into the void.

That’s until he heard the small whimpering of his baby girl. Her small body shuffles in the bed she slept in as she called out for her father.

He quickly wiped his eyes as he moved right to her,

"hey Bean don't cry princess, daddy is right here for you." He scoops the tiny vessel in his arms, her loud cries became small whines. His daughter was all he had left and he couldn't start to fathom what would happen if he lost her too.

Her bright brown eyes stared at her father in wonder, he was so blessed to have her in his life, tears stained his face as he held her small frame in his hands. He kept her close to his chest as she looks at him. Her hands grabbed onto his finger he felt lost in a world that wasn’t his but he now had someone to guide him out of the darkness, he had her, his little light.

"Excuse me Mr. Mendes, do you have a name for your little one?" One of the nurses shyly asked him sympathetic to the situation he was in,

"oh, uh yeah I guess" the name the tripped in the front of his mind as he pushed the tiny black ringlets out of the baby’s face

"her name is Chantel Skylar Mendes.”

-Memory-

"Shawn our little bean still hasn’t got a name" she called Shawn from the bed room

"I thought we settled for Skylar." Shawn came into the room and placed himself beside his pregnant wife.

"No, you settled for Skylar I want to find something else just so we have a backup." Shawn couldn’t say no to his wife so they searched for hours disagreeing on every name until they crossed one.

"Huh, hey Shawn what about Chantel? It says here that it derives from French it means ‘song’." Shawn sat upwards and started to think about it his smile brighten the whole room and she couldn’t help but smile back.

"The name fits the bill" he giggles and then he levels with the swollen bump

"Hey you hear that my little bean that's your name Chantel Skylar Mendes" he placed his hand where the little one was kicking

"I think she likes a lot" nothing in the world could ruin the perfect moment.

-Reality-

The day of the funeral was the hardest thing Shawn could go through not only was he burring his wife but he was now a single father to a baby.

Everyone filled into the church friends and family of both her and Shawn's altogether to share the grief of the loss of a beautiful soul.

Geoff was holding little Chantel as Shawn, Brian, Matt and several others carried the dark red coffin into the church.

It was the same church they made their vows in the same church they made the promise of spending the rest of their lives together in he never expected to become a widower so soon.

As soon as the lid was open he saw her. Her body laid still, her beauty everlasting, he thought she was as beautiful as the day they both met.

-Memory-

"Shawn do you take Amira to be your lawfully wedded wife?" The minister asks

"I do."

"And Amira do you take Shawn to be your lawfully wedded husband?" The minister look at the lady expecting the same response

"well if didn’t want that I would be here" this got a laugh from the crowded church

"no no in all seriousness I do" her smile radiated pure bliss and warmth.

"well with the power vested in me I pronounce you man and wife, you may kiss the bride" but before he could steal a sweat kiss from her she leaned into his ear and said

"I'm having a baby so can you let the catering know to hold the champagne for me." She winked as he looked on at her his eyes filled with pride and hope. He held her tans skin next to his own as he developed her in a kiss.They were lost in the moment and they never want to find a way out. The rest of the night was spent spreading the good news and nothing could tear them apart.

-Reality-

Shawn avoid his loved ones to spend time alone. The darkness held onto him, its hand wrapped itself around him. He wouldn't be here if it wasn't for his little bean, he wouldn’t have been here at all. He sat next to the grave wondering if there will ever be a happy ending to his pain. Since Amira passed on he started to shut everyone out and no one could get in the man he was is now long gone with the wind and the days for him where only getting darker for him but he knew that his head had to be above water for Channel, he had to keep going for her.

He avoided the party altogether and he went home. As soon as he set down the carrier down Chantel began to weep. He gave her bottle, she didn't want it, he checked her dipper, not full one bit, he picked up and stroked her soft cheeks but nothing helped one bit her screams became unbearable. He wanted to call someone anyone but he wanted to do this alone.

He had to.

It all became too much for him as he started to breakdown into hysteria’

“Pl-please princess calm down help m-me out here come on, what do you want?” his voice broke into pieces as he searched frantically for the one thing that could stop this madness, his guitar.

He played a song so sweet, he started to sing about life and the meaning of love. Her cries become nothing more that a small sob. Even before she was born her father’s voice was her favourite thing in the world, her eyes began to droop low as sleep took her there and then.

He sat there for a while, watching the infant nap, her peaceful state of mind triggered his restless one. “What am I doing? What the fuck! I really can't do this alone I'm failing her I'm alread-” before Shawn could belittle himself any further his phone began to ring, he looked at it knowing he couldn’t avoid the world any longer.

Call I.D- Tom H (work)

He began to shake as he answered it.

“Shawn?” Thomas called out for him like a hand reaching out into the wilderness

“I can't do this alone I'm so sorry for letting her down please forgive me. ” Shawn felt hopeless as he let his emotions out in one

“Letting who down?” even though he knew what the man was talking about he needs to hear it from him

“I should have never left Amira alone this would have never happened if it wasn’t for me,” Shawn tried his hardest to stop himself but it was in vain,

“now I'm letting Chantel down and I can't do this anymore please help.” there was a pause between them both. Tom spoke up and the words he said could never leave Shawn's mind.

“It was never your fault no one could have predicted that god need her back home... you're are never alone you have me and your family, your fans and your friends. I called because I just wanted you to know that everyone is hurting and we want to hurt with you please don’t shut us out because we care for you: more than you know,” Tom said

“I’ll catch the next flight available and we can talk just you and me I will see you soon, OK?”

“OK, I’ll see you soon.” With that Shawn hung up on him. He sat there thinking about the words the Brit said. He put Chan to bed and as he did he could help but think about what Tom said;

Could things get better? If only if Shawn knew.

-Time skip 7 years-

“That was Shawn Mendes with his brand-new song Forever small fun fact he wrote this song for his daughter” The radio was on full blast as the Mendes’ had their daily tea party; Shawn was covered head to toe in glitter, make up smudged all over his face, a tiara on his head, and he was wearing a fluffy pink tutu that was twelve sizes too small for him.

“Daddy, that was amazing I love it and thank you for writing it for me. Mommy would be proud,” the eight-year-old poured him some ‘tea’ as she spoke

“she would wouldn’t she my little bean.” Shawn said as he took a sip of the pretend drink

“why do you call me little bean?” she looked at the man with a questioning look.

“that what your mommy used to call you before you were born and it reminds me of her.” His heart sank a little but it rose as she smiled at him

“Do you miss mommy, daddy?” She was in as inquisitive mood he thought.

“I miss her every single day but if she didn’t sacrifice herself she wouldn’t have gave birth to you. I miss her so much it hurts me a lot but I had help from your granny and grandpa, your auntie and uncles and all my fans. Yes, I do miss mommy but she is always smiling upon us waiting for us to see her.” He couldn’t help but shed a lone tear, with everything that has happened to the duo their hearts where filled with hope and love. He always thanked the lord for Toms intervention.

“I can’t wait to meet mommy one day daddy.” Chantel ran over to Shawn a squeezed him tightly.

“Me too but not today bean because who is gonna give Spider-man his tea if we’re not here princess?” he points to the plushie that tom ironically got her when he visited her for the first time.

Her giggles filled the afternoon air, he sat there and thought about it. It did get better for him not right away but it did, the more he spoke to his loved ones or wrote a song the less the darkness consumed him whole and the more the weight was lifted of his shoulders.

He couldn’t be more grateful for his wife, even though he lost her she gave him new hope in the form of his daughter.

He once lost, now he found.

R.Tags( seeing as these are just random tags, if you want to be removed please send me a message :D)-

@thatkidwhodreams @godblesshawndaya @shawn-mendes-thirst @veronicas-littleworld@tommytheholland @flickershawn @all-stars-shining @badrepshawn @imcalledjasmijn @brooke-ainsley @bby-leee @lazysportsfanfornhl @calumhoodless @navarromarielena62 @idontknowhowtowritesosorry @you-are-incorrect @highwarlockb @desperadoegales @helpmemendes @perfectlymnds @whenyoucantchooseafuckingbias @coldluvr @girlgotattitude448 @adriqq @handsanitize @physicshawn @racheldrew9 @aboutshawn @shawnsslife @my-moon-child @cmaerson @resortsandsports @avisstar @angie1djonasgg @bookdroplets @5sos1dandaustin4ever @hegotabadreputation @queengraciella @supernatural-lover-teamfreewill @eany-847

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yuriplisetskysglove · 7 years

Text

If Only Time Would Wait For Us

So... I was tired, and started watching Theory of Everything. Keyword: started. I couldn’t get past the first half of the movie because my heart couldn’t take it, I just couldn’t watch it alone. Instead, I had a terrible idea that will most likely get me killed by basically everyone in this fandom and I apologize in advance for the angst. Written on the spot, so I’m sorry if it’s a bit raw and sketchy. Please tell me if you find any grammar or spelling mistakes, and typos ! One-shot under the cut.

Summary: There is a place, made for all kinds of dreamers. A school for people who want to live through what they love. For people who do live through what they love. Yes, these people are believers. This is the story of a boy who kept dreaming until the very end. Otabek Altin is a third year music student at Raein University. He has everything an 18-year-old would dream of: great family and friends, a motorcycle, passion. Or so he thought, until he met him. Yuri Plisetsky is the adoptive brother of a Raein probationer. A second year, attending the arts degree course. He is everything an ordinary student would dream of being. Talented to no ends, beautiful, popular despite his snarky remarks. They find out how complementary they are, like souls calling on to each other from each side of a battlefield. A battlefield called Time.

Warning: Extremely angsty.

Raein University. The school of dreamers, of believers, of all people who hope to live through love. This is where Otabek Altin studies. He has been for the past two years, and he now is beginning his third. This place, that at first looked so big, too big maybe, now felt like home. And as soon as he entered the great iron gates, a warm feeling started spreading in his chest. He parked his motorcycle, and then headed for the gymnasium where the Entrance Ceremony was to be held. They still hadn’t opened the doors; and there were students everywhere, talking with old friends, or perhaps making new ones ? He didn’t know. What he did know however, was that he was looking for his very own group of friends. Amid the crowd, he got sight of a mass of red hair, and he almost had to force his way to his best friend, Mila Babicheva. He patted her shoulder, and the Russian lady turned around with a huge grin across her face.

‘Why, if it isn’t our little Otabek ! How have you been ?”

‘We’ve seen each other like, two days ago, Mila’, Otabek smiled.

‘Yeah well, if I want to be polite for once, why not let me be ?’

They started talking, just like they did everyday, about what songs they had been listening to during summer, about Mila’s last few compositions she had been posting on YouTube, about Otabek’s playlist for their next party - which was due to that very night -, about their classmates they were impatient to see again, about Mila’s girlfriend Sara and how much she loved her and missed her already... It was an ordinary day that felt extraordinary. And Otabek had a feeling it wouldn’t stop there. The rumbling of the doors against the ground interrupted them, and they joined the many, many students, to seat onto the ever-so-uncomfortable plastic chairs. Chairman Feltsman then started his usual welcoming speech, standing so tall on the already high stage. To be completely honest, neither Otabek nor Mila really listened to his words. They knew about school rules already - and had been joyfully breaking them for the past two years. They also knew their teachers, and they all looked as bored as the students.

‘Now, I would like you all to welcome Mr. Plushenko’s trainee for this year.’

A tall man stepped out of the teachers’ line, and you could hear people gasping and squealing everywhere in the room. He was handsome. Very handsome. Silver hair fell before his face; turquoise eyes shining brightly as his mouth curved into a heart-shaped smile.

‘Hello everyone’, he claimed in a loud, cheery voice. ‘I am Viktor Nikiforov ! Nice to meet you all ! This year, I’ll be working under Mr. Plushenko - hope you’ll treat me well ! I have plenty of ideas I’d like you to try, so I’m counting on you, music students !’

‘How old does he think we are’, Mila snorted. ‘Funny guy, though, I can totally see why Plushenko took him as a trainee. He’s every bit as extra as him.’

‘By the way, please be nice to my little brother too ! He’s right there - hey, Yurio ! You also have to be nice to your comrades, alright ?’

Everyone turned to follow the probationer’s gaze, up to a boy who had just stood up, looking like every inch of his body had turned into raw fury. He seemed frail, though. His blonde hair hid his right eye, while his left was a stunning, pale green. His cheeks had gotten red of anger - or was it embarrassment ? - as he started screaming at his older brother.

‘Shut the fuck up, Viktor ! How many times have I told you to mind your own goddamn business ?!’

‘Ooooh, it’s him’, Mila said pensively. ‘I had already spotted him earlier, but I thought he was a girl, he’s so skinny and cute. Totally your type, though. Watcha think, Otabek ?’

The man wasn’t even listening. He was too busy staring at the younger student. His first thought was that he looked very, very pale. But given the Nikiforov last name, he must be Russian. Maybe he was biased by Mila’s light tan.

‘Please forgive my Yuri’s rudeness’, Nikiforov laughed. ‘He’s into his rebellious teenage phase, but I can swear he’s actually really kind-hearted ! He loves cats and plushies and -’

His sentence was cut straight by an unknown rectangular object being thrown at him, and he dodged it swiftly as it went crashing into the wall just behind him. His frowned.

‘Yuratchka, is that the phone I bought you merely a month ago ?’

‘Of course not, stupid old man. It’s your piglet’s.’

‘Yuratchka, did you just throw my husband’s phone at me ? Nevermind, when did you even take it ?!’

‘Uh, like, two hours ago ? When we left ? And stop reminding everyone you’re married, it’s fucking gross.’

‘You were the one crying at the wedding, though.’

‘You fucking -’

‘Alright, I think it will be enough for today, Mr. Nikiforov, Plisetsky’, Chairman Feltsman yelled.

It took a few seconds for Otabek’s brain to register that Plisetsky was the boy’s last name. He wondered for a few seconds why both brothers didn’t share a name, but decided not to think about it for too long. It was none of his business, after all. As the excitement toned down a bit, Chairman Feltsman asked every homeroom teacher to call their students. Mila and Otabek were together again - it was to be expected - with their friend Jean-Jacques Leroy. The Canadian loudly shouted their names as he went to crush them into a hug. They hadn’t seen him for almost a month, as he had returned home with his girlfriend Isabella to see his younger siblings. Said girlfriend lightly waved at them from the arts students’ ranks, and she tucked a strand of black hair behind her ear before going to see Guang-Hong Ji and Kenjirou Minami.

‘Has any of you seen Leo ?’ JJ asked while looking over the crowd. ‘He did say he’d be late, but I don’t think anyone came into the gym during Feltsman’s speech ?’

‘Maybe he just waited outside, JJ’, Mila answered, shrugging.

Sure enough, Leo de la Iglesia was waiting for them, his back to the gym’s wall. When he spotted them, he took off his earphones, and sneakily joined the ranks trailing behind Plushenko and Nikiforov.

‘Hey guys’, he smiled.

‘You missed quite the commotion’, Otabek told him with a smirk.

‘Yeah, all the girls in the arts section were talking about it. Handsome new kid and cute new teach ?’

‘Half right. Handsome new teach and cute new kid’, Mila chuckled. ‘By the way, the teach is Plushenko’s trainee.’

‘Seriously ? Damn, I hope he’s not as hard on us as Plushenko is...'

‘He looks rather cool’, JJ said. ‘And funny.’

‘Yup, definitely funny.’

As they all sat in Music Room no.01 - more like a music hall, really -, and Plushenko began his traditional start-of-the-year speech that no one ever listened to, Otabek couldn’t help but think about Yuri Plisetsky. He was intriguing him.

September passed by so quickly that it felt as though they had been sitting in that gym merely a week ago. Otabek was now buried underneath his music scores and studies notes, laying on the ground of Music Room no.02. Just as he was slowly drifting into a nap, he heard the door opening, and closing, then followed by the sound of a bag being dumped on the ground. He woke up, startled, thinking it might be a teacher, but it wasn’t. It was a blonde, petite boy, with a camera in his hands. He looked as surprised as Otabek was. The latter was the first to break the silence.

‘What are you doing here ?’ he asked softly.

‘... I have an assignment.’

‘And you wanted to take a picture of this music room ? Music Room no.01 is much prettier.’

‘I wanted to take that one. Also, it’s not merely about taking a picture. Now, if you could get outta here, thanks.’

Well, at least he was polite enough to say ‘thanks’. And he didn’t swear. Which sure was a form of progress, compared to the show he had given them at the Entrance Ceremony.

‘I kind of... Have to study here’, Otabek answered gently.

‘It won’t be long.’

‘Do you really need the room to be empty ?’

‘Do you really need me to kick your face, asshole ?’

So long for progress.

‘You’re not the only one who has to get assignments done.’

‘D’you need to get yours done in like, thirty minutes ?’

‘Twenty, actually.’

‘It can wait then, mine’s in ten.’

‘You just need to take a picture. I need to work on a score.’

‘I need to take a picture and fucking paint on it so now if you could just get the fuck outta that room and lemme -’

‘What is the commotion here ?!’

Mr. Plushenko had found them. Before any of the boys could say anything, he took them each by an ear, and threw them both into the corridor with all their stuff - mostly Otabek’s, but there was Yuri’s bag as well. They exchanged a look.

‘Well, now, I guess we’re both fucked for our assignments’, the blonde muttered.

And then, they burst out laughing, not really knowing why, and they were laughing almost maniacally in the middle of the school, teachers and students alike throwing them weirded out glances as they passed by. When they finally calmed down, they smiled at each other, and Otabek couldn’t help but chuckle. The boy was aggressive, swore like a sailor, but was weirdly endearing.

‘Rooftop ?’ the music student proposed.

‘... What ? You want us to jump from there ?’

‘Of course not. But it’d be better than a busy corridor to walk on my score.’

‘Oh.’

‘And I thought you could come with me.’

‘That’s... Nice. But I’d rather not. Gonna get yelled at by the old hag if I don’t come back to the workshop with something at least somewhat decent.’

‘The old hag...? Are you talking about Mrs. Baranovskaya ?!’

‘Who else ?’

As they talked, they got up, and soon enough they were strolling together through the entire floor, purposefully or not taking the long way to reach each of their respective destinations. They stopped before the Arts Studio no.09, and as soon as Mrs. Baranovskaya saw Yuri through the glass door, she scowled.

‘Well’, the blonde sighed. ‘Imma get roasted. See you.’

‘Will I ?’

The younger boy stopped to look at Otabek. Then, a shy smile took shape on his lips.

‘What’s your name ?’

‘Otabek Altin. Music course, third year.’

‘Yuri Plisetsky. Second year.’

And then, he went into the room.

‘Soooo. Heard you talked with the Plisexy boy.’

‘Plisetsky. And you’re drunk, Mila.’

‘But you did talk to him, you swift playboy…’

‘Who even told you that ?’

‘Well, Isabella, you dummy. Do we know other people from the arts course ?’

‘We do. Guang-Hong and Kenjirou.’

‘Awwww, riiiight. Them.’

‘Mila, Guang-Hong is Leo’s boyfriend, don’t act like you don’t know him.’

Indeed, Guang-Hong was on the dancefloor with Leo, and they were both dancing to I Love Rock’n’Roll before a squealing Kenjirou, who had been rooting for them for years. Besides him, his classmate Isabella was sitting on JJ’s lap, and they were having a drinking contest, judging by the vodka shots lined up before them. Not too far from them, their former classmates Phichit and Seung-Gil were talking with Georgi and his new girlfriend, Judith. Otabek pensively stared at them all.

‘Why didn’t you invite him ?’

Apparently, a drunk Mila was sharper than a sober Mila, because she had just voiced his thoughts. He could still hear his laugh from earlier ringing in his ears. For some reason, he really wished the blonde was there with them, enjoying a crazy night of music and dancing and drinking… Maybe he was too young to drink. How old was he ? What kind of music did he like ? Was dancing something he deemed ‘at least somewhat decent’ for him ?

‘Okay, Otabek, you clearly wanna invite the guy. Gimme his number, I’ll call him for ya.’

‘I… Don’t have his number, Mila. It’s been like, seven hours since we had that talk and it was nothing.’

‘Isabella didn’t say it was, lmao.’

‘Why would you say ‘lmao’ in a verbal conversation, Mila ?’

‘Am drunk, ya said it yourself dummy. Anyway. Isabella said it wasn’t nothing.’

‘Isabella was mistaken.’

‘Well see, the thing is, the boy got owned by Baranovskaya…’

‘And ?’

‘And to punish him she had him pose as their dynamic model for the rest of the day…’

‘Ouch.’

‘Yup. And the boy was soooo flustered he couldn’t stand straight and he kinda collapsed, face red and stuff, and then he got right up and told Baranovskaya he couldn’t do it !’

‘Mila, I don’t think that’s because we exchanged like, two words.’

‘Stop lying dude, the whole goddamn university knows you’ve been laughing your asses off just before Music Room no.02 after Plushenko kicked you outta there. What was he doin’ there anyway ?’

‘He wanted to take a picture for -’

‘Damn, he’s sure going fast, wanting to take a picture of ya nappin’ so early on ! Hey guys, guess what ?!’ she suddenly shouted.

Otabek didn’t even have the time to see his life flash before his eyes. The next second, Mila Babicheva was cheerfully destroying all kinds of dignity he had left and spreading rumors of him dating Yuri Plisetsky. The worst part ? He actually liked the idea.

He took that back. That wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was how, the following day, everyone kept asking him if what Mila and JJ had posted on all of their social media was true. Otabek hated SNS and there was a reason for that. At least, both his classmates had apologized - but he wasn’t the one they should have been apologizing to first and foremost, per se. That’s why he took them both to Arts Studio no.09, despite JJ’s whining about how the small blonde was scarier than Otabek himself. When they got there however, they found Mr. Nikiforov, talking with his brother. More like arguing, given their angry faces and the faint sound of their voices coming from the slightly opened door.

‘I… Think we should go’, JJ whispered as all three of them exchanged curious looks.

‘We should indeed’, Otabek agreed.

But Mila just had to crawl past the door, unnoticed, and crouched down so her ears were near the door. She gestured them to come and eavesdrop with her, but both frowned, and she rolled her eyes before going back to listening. It only took a short while for her eyes to widen, and she let out a faint gasp. JJ and Otabek immediately hid in the corner, and Mila scrambled to her feet. But Mr. Nikiforov and his brother were faster than her.

‘Oh, eavesdropping I see ?’ Nikiforov smiled.

But it wasn’t the heart-shaped smile he had gotten them used to. It was a cold, angry smile that quite literally screamed of disgust.

‘Um, hello, Mr. Niki-’

‘Come in, Mila.’

‘Sir, I -’

‘Don’t say you didn’t mean to while you did. Yuri, I’m not done yet, but I believe we will have to pursue this conversation back home.’

‘Yeah right, a ‘conversation’. People actually listen to each other during a conversation, Viktor.’

‘Yuri.’

Blue eyes met green ones, and the blonde lowered his head like a child being scolded. The older man went into the studio with Mila who, as soon as he had closed the door, started apologizing profusely. Yuri simply walked to the corner past JJ and Otabek, but stopped in the middle of the corridor.

‘Next time you wanna spy on us, send someone more discreet, Altin.’

Otabek’s brain hadn’t even registered the boy’s words that he had disappeared to another floor. JJ and him exchanged a confused look, and they didn’t talk at all while waiting for Mila. Silences usually weren’t too disturbing to them; but this time, there was a feeling of uneasiness crawling under Otabek’s skin. What was that boy thinking…? Suddenly, Mila burst out of the studio, looking furious.

‘Where did he go’, she shouted. ‘Where did that goddamn kid go ?!’

‘Mila’, Nikiforov quietly said as he followed her down the hall. ‘Remember. I don’t want anyone else to know about that. It is his own choice.’

‘He’s crazy.’

‘I think he might be as well, but he won’t listen, no matter what you tell him. Now, I thank you for your concern, but I’d like you to forget everything about these conversations.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Let me correct myself. You have to forget everything about these conversations.’

‘But -’

‘And if everyone else knows about this, I will know this is your doing. So I ask you, Mila, to spare the both - no, the three of us any trouble and stay out of this.’

‘... Alright.’

‘Good. I’ll see you later in class, then.’

The silver-haired man then went in the opposite direction. He seemingly hadn’t noticed JJ and Otabek. The former tilted his head at Mila, who only shook her head.

‘You heard him. I’m not telling the both of you. Sorry.’

‘Don’t worry about it’, they both said.

The rest of the day went almost too normally. Mr. Nikiforov was back to his cheery and joyous self. He had brought a record of his own favorite song, named In Regards to Love.

‘So, Mr. Plushenko told me you had studied the art of arranging a same piece in different ways, right ? Today, I want us to dive deeper into that subject. I will now make you listen to two arrangements of this song. The first one is named Agape. I would like you to guess what the song is about, without translating the lyrics of course.’

The high-pitched, soft and pure voice of a child then echoed in the classroom, and Otabek felt like the notes were taking him elsewhere. A place no one could have ever even thought of reaching. He had no words to describe his awe as he stared at the white wall just in front of him, listening, his fingers slightly waving with the melody as he always did when he was listening to music. He could picture a figure, graciously dancing through the notes. And then, just like that, the song was finished. It was like he had brutally crashed onto the ground after taking flight.

‘This second arrangement’s name is Eros.’

Guitar and castanets, and a fiery rhythm that seeked to take the audience away with its thirst for adventure. The final destination wasn’t clear, but it didn’t matter. What was important was the journey the music was taking them on. He unconsciously started tapping on his desk, and the beat suddenly went faster and faster, and then it calmed down before going to yet another peak. The figure that had been weaving through the score was now jumping from a line to another, and when the last note rang in his ears, he could see the small silhouette falling onto its knees, having finally reached its goal. Not a single student could say a single word about it. They were awestruck. Granted, they had listened their fair share of good music, but this was… Different. And they could all feel it. The bell rang, and Mr. Nikiforov asked them to write an analysis of those two arrangements for the following week. The students were too impressed to complain.

The next time he met Yuri was in a restaurant. He wasn’t expecting the blonde to work as a waiter during weekends. It just seemed off to him, for some reason.

‘Altin’, he greeted him.

He apparently hadn’t forgiven Mila’s eavesdropping yet, and it sounded like he still believed Otabek had sent her. This was his chance to make things right between them.

‘Hey, Plisetsky.’

‘Whattaya want ?’

‘I wanted to apologize, actua -’

‘I wasn’t talking about that. I was asking you what you want to drink.’

‘Oh.’

‘My service’s over in half an hour.’

‘Right. Um… Just a bottle of AriZona. Green tea and honey.’

‘Coming.’

The music student did get his bottle, along with a suspicious look on the blonde’s part. Half an hour later, he was sitting on a bench in a nearby park, legs crossed. He hadn’t opened his bottle at all.

‘So’, Yuri started. ‘You said you wanted to apologize.’

‘Uh… Yeah. For those posts and Mia.’

‘Posts ? Oh, you mean, SNS stuff ? I read it, yeah. Didn’t know I was dating you.’

‘I didn’t know that either.’

They both chuckled, and Otabek felt a little better. He was afraid those dumb posts would ruin the beginning of friendship he had created with the blonde.

‘As for your real girlfrien -’

‘She’s not.’

‘She’s not ?’

‘Nope. She has a girlfriend herself, see.’

‘Oh.’

‘And, what about her ?’

‘Yeah well, Viktor told me he was a bit… Harsh on her. He was still angry after our talk and took it all out on her so… I’m the one who should be apologizing about it. Though I still think Viktor was wrong.’

‘What were you two arguing about ?’ Otabek couldn’t help but ask.

A pair of pale green eyes stared at him, and he felt his heart beating faster. He had beautiful eyes. Eyes he would never forget for sure.

‘She didn’t tell you…?’

‘After Mr. Nikiforov scolded her, she didn’t want to. Said it was your own problem.’

‘... That’s pretty cool of her. For an eavesdropper, I mean.’

The younger boy laid back a second, looking at the sky. He then got up, took Otabek’s bottle from his hands, and drank half of it in one go. And all the other man could do was stare.

‘She’s right. It’s my own problem, and that’s why Viktor shouldn’t be meddling with it either.’

‘Is it… Serious ?’

The blonde merely smirked.

‘Yeah, you could say that, I guess.’

He smiled, and all of a sudden, the notes of Welcome to the Madness - a song Otabek himself really liked - started playing. Yuri took his phone out of his pocket.

‘Hey, Katsudon. … Yeah, I know, coming home right away if the other old man isn’t there. … Whattaya mean he - oh fuck I told him not to… Ugh. Yeah I know you must have. Okay. I’ll see you there, then.’

He hung up, and turned to Otabek.

‘Gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow at school. If... That’s okay with you, I mean.’

‘Why wouldn’t it ?’

He stretched his hand at the arts student.

‘Are you going to become my friend or not ?’

The blonde chuckled, and shook it.

‘Yeah, I think I am. Oh, by the way, give me your number. It’ll be easier than strolling around the whole goddamn campus to find you.’

‘I’m usually napping in Music Room no.02.’

‘Well yeah, except I have classes at noon.’

‘I’m not only napping at noon.’

They laughed, and then Yuri ran to catch his bus. Otabek wondered for a second where he was going. Line 42 had only four stops left before terminus. The hospital ?

The following months felt a bit like a dream. It had become a habit for them to meet on the rooftop at noon. Yuri was always the first one up there; Otabek didn’t understand how he could do that, though. His timetable was much crueler than his, and yet the blonde still had time to run off to buy some food for the both of them - Otabek was a bit low on his allowance and had no part-time job to make up for it - and climb all the way up to the roof. There, they usually sat and looked at all the other students in the courtyard, or the teachers running one after another to exchange info and such. They would create stories for each person of the school, from the cleaning lady to Chairman Feltsman. Otabek would put on some music - it turned out they had quite similar tastes, so the older man was extremely proud to introduce his friend to new bands - and Yuri would show him all the pretty pictures he had taken with his phone. Most of them were of his cat Potya, whom he loved more than his brother it seemed; others were of his own paintings and drawings.

‘Why are you laughing, Beka ?’ Yuri scolded when he showed him his most recent drawing.

‘I love looking at your art.’

‘Don’t laugh at me, street boy.’

‘I’m not mocking you, I’m serious. Who would expect the ever-so-aggressive Yuri Plisetsky to paint over three hundred pictures of his cat ?’

‘Potya is a great model, I’ll have you know.’

‘Yura, you live with one of the most handsome men the world has known.’

‘Says who ? A blind old hag ?’

‘Did you just call Mila a blind old hag ?’

‘Yeah, well she is old and she’s a hag so I guess I almost got it right.’

‘Does that mean I’m old ?’

‘Kinda, but at least you’re not a hag.’

‘You do know we’re only two years older, right ? Don’t get all cocky because you skipped a grade, Mr. Teen Genius Plisetsky.’

The blonde rolled his eyes, and then proceeded to lay his head onto Otabek’s lap, who immediately felt his cheeks burn.

‘What do you think you’re doing’, he muttered.

‘Why, getting cocky, of course. Since I’m Mr. Teen Genius Plisetsky. Also, I needed a pillow.’

‘You could have used your bag.’

‘I wanted to use you. Clear enough ?’

‘... Yeah.’

As Yuri was scrolling through his Instagram, Otabek absent-mindedly started playing with his soft hair. He was half expecting Yuri to snap at him, or to purr, but his friend did neither and instead sighed and shrugged.

‘Beka.’

‘What is it ?’

‘I… There are some things about me you don’t know.’

This surprised him. He wasn’t used to Yuri being so serious in their time together. Like all friends do, he would sometimes write huge texts about his feelings, but he would never explain where those emotions were coming from. All Otabek knew was that Yuri and Viktor kept arguing over an issue that concerned Yuri alone; and there also was something about a promise Viktor had made and never kept.

‘There are indeed, Yura.’

‘And you’re okay with that ?’

The dark-haired man had to think about it for a moment.

‘To be completely honest, no. I want to know what’s making you feel so angry towards everything. And why you’re always arguing with your brother. I… I want to know what’s hurting you so much, Yura.’

The blonde didn’t say a word. He had his back turned to Otabek, which made it impossible for him to guess how the younger boy was feeling.

‘... I can’t tell you about the arguments with Viktor. I can tell you about a few other things, though.’

‘Go ahead.’

‘I wasn’t really adopted by the Nikiforovs.’

‘You weren’t ?’

‘My guardian technically still is my Grandpa. But he’s getting old, and my parents don’t really have time to take care of me. So Viktor, who’s… My childhood friend, offered him to take me in. Grandpa didn’t want to, you see. He was worried. But I was, too. About him.’

‘Is that why you’re working part-time ?’

‘I’m paying his medicine, yeah. Can’t do much else. Also, his health isn’t that bad, he’s just a bit… Fragile, because of age. That’s all.’

‘Then, the money you use to pay me my meals…’

‘It’s okay. That’s just some bonus. Grandpa gets his share every month, don’t worry.’

‘I see. Please, go on if there are other things you’d like to tell me.’

For a few minutes, there was only silence. Otabek felt like Yuri was weighing his words, and he wondered what was making him so anxious. If only he knew… Then maybe, just maybe, he could do something about it. He would do anything to make this beautiful soldier feel better.

‘I…’

And then, Otabek felt them. Yuri’s tears, on his jeans. He was completely caught off-guard and stopped stroking his hair. He gently nudged him.

‘Yura. Turn your face to me.’

‘No.’

‘You’re crying.’

‘Wrong.’

‘Yura. Tell me. It’s okay. I’ll still love you no matter what.’

‘You won’t. Only three people ever did.’

‘Let me be the fourth.’

‘You’re gonna say I’m a freak and a liar.’

‘I’m gonna say I love that freak and that liar.’

‘You were supposed to say ‘I’m not gonna say you’re a freak and a liar’.’

‘But I didn’t, because I always surprise you and never say what you think I am going to say. Don’t you think I can do that again ?’

Silence, again. Yuri sat right up again with difficulty, and turned his tears stained face to Otabek. The dark-haired man simply used his own jacket’s sleeve to shed away the other boy’s tears, and gave him a smile, followed by a tight hug. His thumbs traced circles on the blonde’s back, who slowly started relaxing into his arms.

‘I’m trans’, Yuri ended up saying, his nose buried in his friend’s jacket.

Otabek simply hugged him tighter. They stayed like that for a few minutes, the music student still gently tracing circles onto Yuri’s back, and the blonde embracing him like his life depended on it.

‘You don’t think it’s weird ?’ Yuri finally sobbed.

‘I already had doubts, to be honest. You never agreed to go to the gym with JJ and me. At first, I thought it might just be because you didn’t like sports, but then you said you’d been ice-skating and doing ballet as a kid, so… I thought it ought to be something else.’

‘You could have just asked me. Would have made things easier.’

‘I didn’t want you to feel cornered if it turned out to be true.’

‘... What did I even do to deserve you, Otabek Altin.’

‘You were yourself.’

‘I don’t feel like it’s enough.’

‘I do.’

They still didn’t move. Even though their legs were starting to feel numb, even though the cold January winds were blowing right into their faces, even though the bell was ringing. They didn’t care. They only needed each other.

‘It’s not fair, though.’

‘What is ?’

‘That whole… Truth thing. There are things that I don’t know about you.’

‘What do you want to know ?’

‘Anything. As long as it’s personal.’

Maybe it was his chance to tell him. What if he didn’t feel the same ? He knew there was a possibility Yuri’s feelings were nothing like his. Maybe he was considering him his brother and friend. Otabek would respect that. He would accept it eventually. But what is he did reciprocate ? Then, what was to happen next…?

‘I’m in love with my best friend’, he simply said.

‘... Mila ? Or JJ ?’

‘Neither. Male best friend.’

‘Right. Neither of them then.’

‘He is way more beautiful than the both of them together.’

‘It’s not that complicated.’

‘He’s small. Always angry. But surprisingly soft.’

With each of his words, he could feel Yuri’s body getting more and more tense into his arms, as though he was already guessing his next words. Well, he may have had already. He was a clever young man, after all.

‘I’m sure you two would make a great couple’, he whispered.

His heart stopped. Would.

‘You would if… If he was someone who could make you happy. And I know for a fact he’s not.’

‘What do you mean… Yura ?’

But Yuri had gotten up. He smiled at him, and Otabek had to close his eyes. It wasn’t his pure, innocent smile he loved. It was a sad smile that screamed of melancholy.

‘You know… I don’t have much time before my body… changes.’

‘... Are you talking about -’

‘If only… If only time would wait for us. Then… Then I’d date you, Beka. I would give you all the happiness I would find in the world. Put it into a bottle of painted glass, and let you open it and drink a single drop from it every time you feel down. I would do that, Beka. I would listen to you composing and playing and singing, and you would look at my drawings and paintings. I would love you. I think I already do. But time never waits. Time forgets. So, I want you to forget, too.’

And just like that, he was gone.

It had been two weeks since Yuri had stopped coming to school. Otabek had been texting him relentlessly. He had replied, once. ‘Sorry.’, he had said. No one except him seemed fazed by the blonde’s sudden disappearance. Even the teachers sounded like everything was normal. He knew it wasn’t. Something was painfully wrong with that. That was the reason why he was standing in front of the faculty office door. Hesitating. He hadn’t talked to Mr. Nikiforov at all for the last three weeks. They both had been skipping class.

‘Altin ?’

Otabek turned around to face Mrs. Baranovskaya, accompanied by none other than Chairman Feltsman. He respectfully greeted the both of them.

‘Are you looking for someone, perhaps ?’

‘Mr. Nikiforov, actually.’

‘I believe he is not here today. I haven’t seen him for quite a while.’

‘He’s ill’, Chairman Feltsman calmly said.

Too calmly. When Otabek got back to his room, there was one thing he knew. It was that Viktor Nikiforov wasn’t ill, and that his absence and Yuri’s disappearance were linked.

Maybe he had drawn his conclusion too soon. Mr. Nikiforov came back the following day, as cheery and funny as always. He was even a little more extra than usual, as if something really good had happened to him. He didn’t seem disturbed at all by the fact that his brother was missing. At the end of the class, Otabek ran up straight to him.

‘Mr. Nikiforov.’

‘Oh, Otabek ! Can I help you with something ?’

‘Is Yuri okay ?’

‘Yuuri ? Yes, he is, but when have I ever told you about him ?’

‘... Huh ?’

‘I mean, I know I have been up in the clouds ever since our wedding, but -’

‘I wasn’t talking about your husband Yuuri, sir’, Otabek muttered. ‘I was talking about your younger brother. Yuri Plisetsky.’

Mr. Nikiforov’s expression didn’t change at all.

‘Who are you talking about ?’

It felt like he was falling into an abyss that had suddenly opened underneath his feet. He was being swallowed by doubt, fear, hatred. Who was he talking about…? Who else would he be talking about ?

‘I know I’m Russian, and that Plisetsky name sounds Russian as well, but not all Russians know each other you know ! Oh, sorry Otabek, I’m going to be late for my next class - Mr. Plushenko will kill me if I am, and I’d rather avoid that, you know. Well, see you tomorrow !’

He then ran off through the corridor, leaving a paralyzed Otabek on the spot. He didn’t know. He didn’t know who Yuri Plisetsky was. Had Otabek dreamed him up…? No. A single glance at his phone’s lockscreen - a picture of a blonde, smiling boy with a fluffy siberian cat in his arms - indicated him he hadn’t been dreaming. Then why was everyone acting like he never existed ? He had to know. He had to know why. Why was Viktor Nikiforov, of all people, pretending he had never existed ? And, just like that, he started conceiving a plan.

Otabek had to check for the fifth time if he hadn’t mistyped the address on his phone. But he apparently hadn’t. Earlier that week - it had now been twenty-two days since Yuri had disappeared - he had asked Mr. Nikiforov to tutor him during weekends. They were supposed to start today; but the address he gave him was… A flower shop. Yuutopia Flowers, more specifically. He nevertheless entered the store. Maybe he should buy a bouquet for the Nikiforovs ?

‘Hello’, a young, bespectacled man said as he entered. ‘Are you looking for a composition in particular ?’

‘Huh ? Oh, uh… Hello. Not… Not really, I’m not very good at flower language. But, um… It’s for a newlywed couple. Well, no, they’ve been married for almost half a year now.’

‘... Are you perhaps looking for Viktor Katsuki-Nikiforov ?’

‘How do you -’

‘I’m Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov’, he chuckled as he stretched out his hand to shake his. ‘Nice to meet you… Otabek, was it ? Vitya told me you would come by. He’s tutoring you, right ?’

‘Oh, I’m… I’m sorry. Yeah, that’s right.’

‘What are you apologizing for ? Anyway… Vitya is out with our dog, he should be here in just a few minutes. Come on, I’ll show you to our apartment… Nishigori, Yuuko, I’m leaving the shop to you two !’

‘You got it, buddy !’ a smiling woman answered from the counter.

Yuuri took Otabek past a door that no one would ever notice if they didn’t know it was there. They climbed the tiny, narrow stairs, only to end up in a gigantic living room. It was extremely modern, styled with black, white and blue, and Otabek immediately recognized the place. Most of Yuri’s photos of Potya had been taken there.

‘You can sit here’, Yuuri smiled as he gestured to a table. ‘Do you need anything ?’

‘I… No, thank you.’

‘Alright. I’ll be in the shop if you need anything; don’t hesitate and ask, okay ?’

‘That’s very kind of you, thank you very much.’

As Yuuri was making his way downstairs, Otabek couldn’t help himself but call him back.

‘Mr. Katsuki-Nikiforov ?’

The bespectacled man’s face instantly popped back from the staircase.

‘Yes ?’

‘Do… Do you know… What happened to Yuri Plisetsky ?’

Yuuri’s expression darkened. He knew something. Maybe he wasn’t going to hide it like his husband did.

‘I… I am in no place to tell you about it. It is… It only concerns Yurio, and Vitya.’

‘... According to Yura himself, Mr. Nikiforov has nothing to do with it.’

‘He… Doesn’t, it’s true. But… I cannot be the one to talk to you about it. I think… I can convince Vitya to tell you, alright ? You both need to. I can’t stand seeing him suffer like that because of the unnecessary weight of secrets he’s put on his shoulders.’

‘I understand. Thank you very much, sir.’

‘Please call me Yuuri. You are Yurio’s friend, aren’t you ? Since you called him Yura. He doesn’t allow a lot of people to call him that, you know. You must be special to him… If you are to this boy, then you are to me as well.’

‘That’s… Thank you, Yuuri.’

‘No problem, Otabek.’

He went downstairs.

‘So, for our next project, I’d like you all to work with Mr. Giacometti’s arts class !’ Mr. Nikiforov said with his usual heart-shaped smile. ‘My husband Yuuri came up with that idea, and I think it’s absolutely brilliant ! We will be trying to understand each other’s definition of art - visual arts, and musical arts ! It’s very simple, actually. People of the music course will have to draw, or paint if you can, the music you like the most. People of the arts course on the other hand, will have to sing something they deem fitting to their favorite painting !’

‘Sir, I can’t even draw a potato without having it look like a spaceship’, Mila said.

‘Art isn’t always about similarity and beauty ! It is about passing through a strong, a poetic message ! Just like music does, for that matter. That’s why, I want you to understand that not only is music able to create new colors, but painting itself is able to create music !’

‘Sir’, Otabek finally asked. ‘Will you be participating as well ? Because I have a challenge for you.’

And a good one, at that. He and Yuuri had been working on this little project of theirs for the past week - Yuri had disappeared for a month now.

‘You do, uh ? Then I’ll take you on any time ! What is your little challenge ?’

‘I want you to paint In Regards to Love: Agape.’

‘You… What ? Now, that’s a peculiar request…’

‘When you first made us listen to this song in class, it felt… It was incredibly powerful. And I was wondering if you could change such musical power into a painting.’

‘Gods, you have exactly gotten the hang of the subject, Otabek ! Alright then, I’ll be painting Agape ! You have two weeks to prepare, so do it well ! I also want you to write a paper about your work. No cheating, if I hear any of you has been using one of the art students’ help, you’re disqualified ! By the way, the winner gets free tickets to Disneyland.’

The room collectively shouted ‘WHAT’, before students started gathering into smaller groups to discuss their projects. Naturally, Mr. Nikiforov approached Otabek, Mila and JJ’s group.

‘So, what song have you decided to paint ?’

‘Agape’, Otabek smirked. ‘I really like that song, and it would only be fair for me to use the same subject as yours for our little… challenge.’

He was provocating him. He had seen and heard Yuri do it so many times; and he now knew why Yuri always felt so satisfied whenever he made anyone angry. It just felt good to think he had power over someone. And that he’d soon squeeze the truth out of him. He was going to find Yuri, and no one would stop him. Not even time.

‘Indeed, Otabek. I can’t wait until we compare our productions ! What about you two, Mila, Jean-Jacques ?’

‘I think I’ll be painting one of my own compositions’, Mila said pensively. ‘What do you think, sir ? Is it powerful enough ?’

‘Anything is if you see it for what it is’, Mr. Nikiforov smiled. ‘Jean-Jacques ?’

‘I’m not quite sure… Still wondering if I should choose Partizan Hope or Sleeping at Last’s Saturn.’

‘Saturn, uh… You would have to paint time, and love. This song is really powerful and difficult, but… On the other hand, it could make for a great painting.’

‘I couldn’t help but ask, you to say it all again; I tried to write it down, but I could never find a pen…’, Otabek hummed. He had made Yuri listen to it, and he absolutely adored it.

‘I’d give anything to hear, you say it one more time; that the universe was made, just to be seen by my eyes....’, Mr. Nikiforov sang. ‘There is someone I once knew who really loved this song.’

He left their table, and Otabek’s confused gaze followed him. Someone he once knew ? Who loved ? Past tense. Could he be talking about Yuri ? Had something happened to him ? No, Yuuri would have told him if he was dead… He would, right ? Obviously he would. There was no point in freaking out. But he couldn’t help it. Yuri wasn’t dead. Then why past tense ? Something happened. He knew that much. He knew nothing else and it was slowly killing him. He didn’t even see JJ and Mila’s worried looks until the redhead slapped him.

‘Awake, now ?’ she growled.

‘... Mila. Why did you -’

‘To wake you up. And tell us just what the fuck is happening to you.’

‘You know perfectly well what’s happening. And none of you has even tried finding out the truth. You just kept it with the teachers’ little act.’

And then, realization hit him. That Mila knew why Viktor and Yuri had been arguing. She knew why Yuri had disappeared. He took her by an arm, and almost had to drag her to the corridor to talk.

‘Why were they arguing, that day ?’

‘Otabek, I promised I -’

‘Yuri’s disappeared. Mila, the boy I love has disappeared and you know why he did.’

‘I don’t -’

‘You do, you were ready to beat him up to get him to apologize to Viktor.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Otabek, I would never have beaten him up…’

‘Don’t change the topic.’

‘... I can’t, Otabek. This isn’t something I can tell you. I don’t have the right to.’

‘Because Mr. Nikiforov forbid you to do it ?’

‘Because it wouldn’t be right for me to.’

‘Mila, I swear that if you don’t tell me I will -’

‘Will what ? Go ahead, say it, you will what ?!’

He didn’t answer. She stormed back into the classroom. Otabek went the opposite way to get some water onto his face. What was he doing ? He had threatened his best friend. Her, of all people, who he’d been counting on for two years now. He had threatened her, and he suddenly realized he wasn’t controlling anything anymore. He was nothing but a mess of contradictory feelings.

Finally. The day of the exhibition.

Yuri had gone missing for a month and two weeks now. And today was the day Otabek would get his answers. He knew he would. Viktor would never be able to keep his mouth shut after seeing his painting. He had worked so hard on it; Yuuri even helped him - and Isabella too, although no one should know about that, otherwise, he would be disqualified. Winning these tickets didn’t sound bad at all. Once he’d have found Yuri, they’d go together. Maybe he’d finally tell him about that ‘time’ thing he had mentioned.

‘Welcome, everyone, to our very first Music and Art joint project ! I do hope you will enjoy it, because we sure did while singing those !’ Mr. Giacometti said in the microphone.

‘Well, everyone did their best, there is no reason for us not to enjoy all these beautiful productions !’ Mr. Nikiforov answered. ‘Now, shall we start with the music, or the art students ?’

‘The floor is yours, dear.’

‘My, how gentlemanly ! So, let’s see… First in alphabetical order would be… Altin, Otabek ! So, what song did you choose, why, and what have you painted ?’

The silver-haired man gave him the mic as Otabek climbed onto the stage. Behind him, JJ and Isabella were putting his painting on its easel.

‘The song I have chosen is… In Regards to Love: Agape. I… From the very moment I heard it, it felt special. Gracious and yet, powerful. Beautiful and enthralling, but nothing superficial. It goes far, far beyond that. And that’s why all I could imagine as I was listening was…’

He turned around, and walked to the easel before pulling on the white sheet covering the painting. Golden hair. Feathery white wings. Pale green eyes. It wasn’t perfect. It had many, many flaws. The colors were a bit dull on some crucial points and the lighting wasn’t exactly on point. But it was beautiful nevertheless. It took the whole audience’s breath away.

‘Yuri’, Mr. Nikiforov muttered.

He, for one, was mesmerized by the painting. He slowly walked to it. His fingers graced it surface, tracing the lines of a face he hadn’t seen in more than a month. A face he would most likely never see again. A tear rolled down his cheek. Another. The next thing Otabek Altin knew, was that Viktor Katsuki-Nikiforov was crying his heart out before his painting.

‘I can’t’, he sobbed as Mr. Giacometti was trying to comfort him. ‘I can’t. He can’t, Otabek. He can’t go like that.’

‘Go ? Where to ?’

‘Far. Very far away. A land we will all reach eventually. But it’s too soon, Otabek ! It’s too soon for him to go there ! He can’t, and I can’t, and I could do nothing. I could do nothing to even slow him down, he insisted to come everyday, to work everyday like a normal boy would, to have friends and fall in love… Because he did, you know. He did fall in love. He fell in love with life. And then with you. And all of a sudden he…’

‘Where is he, Mr. Nikiforov ? Where is he ?!’

‘The hospital. Room 112. Don’t go. It will only hurt you more.’

Otabek didn’t even hear him. The next minute, he was onto his motorcycle, driving under a blinding winter sun, as if the star was mocking him.

He was there. But not really there. Laying in a bed with white covers. His head tilted to the side. Completely unable to move. Only his green eyes were as bright as they used to be. Everything else was unrecognizable. His soft, golden hair now looked so thin and dull. His fair, smooth skin had gotten even paler - if it was possible. His already skinny limbs looked like the mere blowing of the wind could break him in half. Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis. How could he not have realized that earlier ?! His pale skin, far too pale to be natural. The way he refused to come to the gym, because his muscles wouldn’t have been able to take it. His appointments at the hospital. His part time job, merely four stops away from said hospital. Him not being able to pose as a dynamic model, on the very day he had met and talked to him for the first time. Everything made sense now and he had been blind, blind, blind all the time.

‘Yura.’

He couldn’t answer, of course. He was being kept alive by mere machines. He couldn’t talk. He had thoughts. Most certainly beautiful ones, like everything he ever was to him. But no one would ever be able to hear them. He wished he could. They both wished they could.

‘I’m here, Yura. I... I’m so sorry, Yura. I’m so sorry I’ve been selfish. I didn’t even... I would have fought with you, you know. We would have gone through that together.’

We did. We did. I was your soldier. I’ve simply fallen on the battlefield. You already did a lot.

‘I did nothing’, Otabek sobbed.

You did so much.

‘I did nothing. I didn’t even know.’

You were my friend. The fourth person to accept me for who I am. But the first I’ve ever fallen in love with.

‘I claimed I love you, and I still could do nothing.’

There was nothing to be done. I was destined to be shattered into pieces anyway.

‘I’m so sorry. I wasn’t there for these six weeks. Six weeks, damnit, six weeks, it feels so short when you say it that way but now I realize how much... How much time has taken from us... This is what you meant when you said your body would change. And I was blinded... By my own sadness but who am I to even pretend to be hurt ?’

Stop apologizing. I love you. Beka. Can you please make my dream come true ?

Otabek sat on the hospital room’s chair, his fingers lightly brushing Yuri’s. He wondered if he could do anything for that boy. Five months. He had been in love with him for five months. He still was. Those five little months meant the world to him. They meant life to Yuri. And then, he followed the blonde’s pale green gaze, that fell upon a sketchbook. He stood up, opened it. Portraits. The first few were Viktor and Yuuri. One of them most likely drawn at their wedding. Then, there were some sketches of Potya’s fluffy face. Next up, some studies of Yuri’s own face. And then, him. Otabek. He was everywhere. On every page. Realistic style, anime style, cartoon style. Charcoal, watercolor, felt-tip. He turned to Yuri. There was a pencil on the nightstand. He gently took the pen, and put it in Yuri’s hand. His own closed around the blonde’s, and they started drawing. A bottle, labeled, happiness.

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