#aiyaaaa

He reached a hand towards Yuuri’s face, tracing down his jawline, cupping his cheek like a precious treasure. Looking at him like he held every answer and promise in existence.

Yuuri doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve Victor risking his life and status for and insignificant Yakuza hitman.

“I know it’s dangerous,” Victor whispered, rubbing a thumb along Yuuri’s cheek, “but I’ll fix it. I…I’ll do something. Just please, trust me.”

“I trust you,” Yuuri responded, “and I’ll do everything I can. I’ll kill, I’ll lie, I’ll do anything if you just say the word.”

It was funny, in a twisted, morbid way, how willing he was to completely give himself over to Victor, with his hands tied behind his back. Fully offering himself on a silver platter.

This wasn’t the Katsuki Yuuri who Minako-sensei­ so painstakingly raised and trained. This certainly wasn’t the Katsuki Yuuri that was training many years ago, throwing knives at a training dummy he pretended was Victor Nikiforov’s head. If the Yuuri from the past saw the Yuuri in the present, he’d be disgusted and wouldn’t hesitate to kill him on the spot.

“Yuuri…”

Victor closed the distance between their faces, pressed his lips against Yuuri’s. Yuuri closed his eyes, moving his hand to Victor’s hair, feeling the soft strands slide between his fingers. Like every time they kissed, he cherished each moment their lips moved against each other, memorized the taste of Victor’s mouth, poured as much feeling as he could into that one, singular moment.

“Then I’d do the same for you,” Victor murmured, Yuuri feeling their lips brush together as Victor spoke. “Say the word, and I’ll burn for a hundred days, if you wanted.”

“We’ll burn together then,” Yuuri looked at Victor, blue eyes like embers in the night, “if the world comes after us, we’ll burn them all.”