Otabek opened his eyes once the sun rays fell over his face and he grumbled, displeased with the curtains. It took him a while to remember everything what was going on and his brown eyes widened when he saw he was alone in bed and his heart began to beat faster so he got up, panicked. It wouldn't have surprised him if Yuri would have simply took the first plane back to Russia, that's why he ran his fingers through his hair and headed towards the bathroom, knocking at the door to see if he was inside. He wasn't so he began to walk down the hall, trying to prepare himself for anything. Last night when Yuri confessed he felt beyond happy – he still was ecstatic but he didn't forget his friend's reaction, not for a second. He felt relief washing over him when hearing the TV and exhaled when he saw a blonde head resting against the sofa's backrest, realizing he's been holding his breath all this time. Blue eyes focused on him and he smiled when he saw Yuri was wearing a baggy hoodie with tiger straps and had the flashiest leggings on, along with fluffy socks.

"Morning, Beka!" Otabek answered. "I made pancakes, they're on the counter" The brunette walked towards the kitchen and found indeed a plate filled with pancakes, all of them looking good. Yuri followed him and watched as Otabek began to put Nutella over one and gracefully took a bite of it, looking at him as if he was asking if he wanted some. "You like them?"

"Of course" Yuri started learning recipes when he was about 9 and his grandfather took a part time job, leaving him home during some afternoons. Even if he had enough food in the fridge, the young Russian skater enjoyed to prepare things for himself too, especially simple ones that could fill his stomach right away. He would sometimes even surprise Nikolai with pastries he made and he went as far as baking birthday cakes for the old man. "Did you wake up very early?" The blonde straightened his back, his spine making cracking sounds.

"I think I slept in until 7" Was the answer and Otabek checked the clock on the wall to see it showed 8:30. For usual training days it was very late but he thought that Yuri might want to sleep until noon as he was free; it seemed he didn't.

"So what did you do?"

"I face-timed dedushka and stupid Viktor and Katsudon. They're as gross as ever in case you are wondering" Yuri groaned, making his friend chuckle.

"You seem fond of them"

"Nah but their old asses would feel lonely without me" He jumped so now he was sitting on the counter. "It's called charity" Yea, of course. Otabek continued to eat his pancake while watching the blonde dangle his feet back and forth in the air. "They're all over each other, it's disgusting" He continued to mumble about the wedding they were planning, how Makkachin was doing and about how training went back home. "What are the plans for today?" He was obviously trying to distract the older skater.

"I thought we were supposed to discuss" Otabek was not the type to beat around the bush. Yuri began to tap the counter with the back of his foot, achieving some kind of rhythm.

"What's there to discuss?" The Kazakh threw him a "really?" glance but that didn't make the blonde even flinch so it was clear where they were standing – Otabek bottled his feelings long enough not to contest their positions. He could live with having Yuri just as a friend, though he was disappointed – he fell asleep with the thought of holding the Russian, kissing him and being his most important person.

The holiday went a lot worse than both of them expected. Yuri had to fly back home a week earlier because Lilia decided the ballet shows will start earlier than programmed and he needed training, he didn't have the chance to meet the Altin family and the atmosphere was heavy between them. It wasn't anything special that put them off – they were acting the same but the fact that there were things untold, unresolved between them made them feel weird. The nights spent with Otabek's friend Yuri was mostly feeling like an outsider and checked his Instagram as often as possible. He wasn't good with dealing with so many people at once, he felt intimidated and he felt a low-key jealousy because those people knew his best friend better than he did. They knew Otabek for longer than he did, they had inside jokes and he felt... replaceable. Adding the anxiousness of dealing with his feelings and not knowing how to act was the recipe of disaster and once he reached Sankt Petersburg he felt like he could breathe. After spending the evening with Nikolai he went straight to his bedroom, muffled a scream into his pillow and hugged Sofyia close to his chest. He was sure he screwed things up, he was sure Otabek would never talk to him again or talk less and he was going to end alone. He was going to be busy, moving in with Lilia and Yakov for a few weeks and starting training but that didn't mean he won't miss everything about Beka. He realized part of the fault was his for not having a proper reaction, a proper answer.

Otabek promised nothing was going to change but it was clear that could not happen.

Maria watched her partner with big eyes, black lashes marking shadows on her white cheeks. Yuri Plisetsky was a lot grumpier than he was before and that was something, as he was known for his bad behaviour. The blue and black marks on his feet were the results of his over-work and even Lilia seemed worried for him and frequently ordered him to take breaks and eat sweets. When they were done she waited for him to get out of the lockers and sighed when she saw he was on the phone.

"Can you pick me up?" He mumbled in the phone and turned to his younger dance partner. "Do you need anything?" The girl's face turned beet red.

"I was wondering if you want to have something to eat with me." The Russian ran his fingers through his bangs, discovering his green eyes. It was clear what her intention was and maybe it was not such a bad idea.

"Can't. I'm meeting a friend. See you tomorrow" Mila was coming to pick him up and they were going to spend their night at her place because he needed someone to talk to and there was no way he was going to Yuuri because Viktor was going to be there too and he didn't need them together. He needed real advice.

They ended up having KFC – Yakov would have murdered them if he would have seen them – and Mila was painting Yuri's nails a very dark blue while the blonde kept bitching about what was going on.

"I could swear it was Altin" Mila shouted, going to Yuri's left hand. "By the way, this colour suits you" He started painting his nails – well, letting Mila doing it, a few days after coming back to Russia and he only used dark colours. His hands were pretty, he had long fingers and having well-trimmed and painted nails was a plus.

"Thanks."

"Do you guys still text?" He nodded. They were texting just like before but there was something missing.

"He went to have lunch with his ex-girlfriend today" he fumbled for his phone and showed her a screen-shot he took. It was a picture of two cups of hot chocolate with the caption "missed you" and with Otabek tagged in it. He knew about this girl – Alya; Otabek told him before about her, they've been together for almost half a year.

"So? He's allowed to see other people, it's not like you're together" Mila sang and the blonde gulped.

"I know" His voice was almost a whisper.

"For such a badass, you're a pussy when it comes to accepting your feelings, kitten. I'm sure that if you'd tell Otabek what you want things would change" Yuri moaned. He had no idea what he wanted. "Yuratchka" Mila hissed.

"Don't call me that, only grandpa calls me that" He warned.

"We've been over this subject a few times now. You admitted – you fell for Otabek. You want to kiss him and be gross with him like Viktor and Katsuki are" She made some kissing sounds and Yuri groaned, falling on his back and trying not to ruin his nails. "So what's so hard to understand?" Just then his lock-screen lit up and he grabbed the phone. Mila struggled to get closer so she could stare at the message. It was a picture, a selfie of Otabek, his hair wet as he just got out of the shower. He had a brick-face, as usual, but you could figure out he was topless by the showing skin. The scream almost tore his eardrum.

"What the fuck, hag?!" he yelled.

"He's so fucking hot!" Yuri hissed.

"Shut up!" He saved the picture, though. "I know that already" his cheeks heated and Mila almost wanted to coo in delight. Her little Yuratchka was in love. "He says hi"

"If that's how he says hi I want to know how your deeper conversations are" A pillow hit her face. "Behave, kitty!" she launched herself over Yuri's feet, trapping him under her weight. "Send him a selfie too" She was right, he should do that. He took a selfie of himself, biting his index seductively and showing his nails and also looking sexy as fuck, watching the camera through long lashes. If there was a thing Yuri Plisetsky was good at beside skating and ballet, it was taking selfies.

Little did he know that back in Astana, Otabek Altin almost died, choking on his protein shake.

Beka: Looking good tonight, going anywhere?

Yuri smirked.

Yura: Do u wanna say 'm not usually hot?

Beka: Never said that.

Yuri grinned, proud of himself. Otabek thought he was hot.

Beka: Nice nails too.

The blonde took a picture of Mila and the KFC bucket and sent it, indicating he wasn't going anywhere soon.

Yura: How was your date?

Beka: ?

"The bastard couldn't take a hint even if it would step on his face" The Russian skater groaned and Mila chuckled.

"And since when are you so subtle, Plisetsky?" She was right – he could be polite, he was skilled but being subtle was not his strong point. He didn't reply because he was annoyed but another text came and he looked at the screen.

Beka: Alya, you mean? Yuri sighed.

Beka: It was not a date, she's my friend.

Blonde eyebrows furrowed.

Yura: Lik I care, date who tf you want.

He threw the phone on the table, almost cracking its screen before covering his eyes with a hand, wondering what the hell was going on. Why was he so angry with Otabek when he did nothing wrong? Why was he acting like this when he didn't want to be together with Beka? Mila picked the phone and checked the conversation, eyes widening at the last part.

"What the fuck?" she gasped.

"Shut the fuck up" He wasn't gay, he wasn't the new Viktor Nikiforov. He hated not being to control this thing, he hated being bad at things.

Otabek Altin was looking at the message for the twentieth time in the last 5 minutes and this time it seemed even worse. He was confused and hurt, he hated himself for confessing to Yuri and for destroying everything they had. The blonde made it clear – the feelings were there, they were just not going to be together. He wondered if he was supposed to wait or not, he wanted to ask his friend but he dodged the questions every time. They were growing apart and he wasn't sure how to react to that, after a year of non-stop taking it was hard to be alone once again. He had his friends but they didn't skate so they couldn't understand him fully, also they could be tiring with their goings out and with their insisting for him to date someone.

Yura: Lik I care, date who tf you want.

He wasn't sure how to reply. It seemed he was a burden, he was dead weight in Yuri's life so he decided he should move on. Maybe if he found someone new they would go back to being like they were before.

The next few months Otabek dated a lot. He was a good looking guy so it was not hard to find interested girls but none of them was satisfied with his behaviour. He was kind, patient, never demanded anything and overall he was not passionate at all. The fact that he never demanded things, never got mad meant he didn't really care and that upset them. He didn't fail to let Yuri know about dating and the blonde turned out to be grumpier than ever, barely texting him now. He couldn't remember the last time they face-timed. Otabek's birthday passed smoothly, Yuri wished him happy birthday first and sent him a silver bracelet – he had a matching one.

He was in the middle of his birthday party when he received a picture of Yuri holding a cupcake on top of which was a blue candle and smiled at the phone, brushing the screen with his thumb, as if he hoped to feel Yuri's warm skin.

"Otabek – come take a picture with us!" a friend shouted and he excused himself, heading to his bedroom where he locked the door behind him. He dialled Yuri's number.

"Beka?"

"Yura, hi" he said, his voice hoarse. He didn't figure it out at first but soon he felt his cheeks dampen and he brushed the tears away with the back of his hand.

"Are you okay?" He nodded, stupidly before whispering a "yes" and thanking him for the picture and for virtually celebrating his birthday with him. They talked a lot, for the first time in what seemed forever and they would have continued all night if Otabek's friends wouldn't began hitting the door and yelling for him to come out. He ended the call and rested his head against the door, obvious to what was going on around. He wondered if he was ever going to get over Yuri Plisetsky; he wondered if he wanted to.

Yuri stared at himself in the mirror. His make-up was on fleek, his free-program costume was violet and had sparkling pants, drawing everyone's attention as he walked. The theme was "Strength" and he was going to give his best, he was going to win this year too but that was not what was worrying him. He looked himself in the mirror, he was 17 now and the past year changed him quite a lot, he was taller but just as slender, the hair was longer and he was looking a bit more mature. His cheekbones were higher but that was probably the result of him losing weight and he pulled on his hair annoyed with his image. He was frustrated. Maybe if he would have looked better and acted better people wouldn't have left him behind.

"Yuri, did you borrow my eyeliner?" Mila asked, coming in and looking at him. "You are bomb, kitten"

"Thanks" he muttered and went to look for Viktor and for a place to stretch. He was the first to go and he took a big breath, trying to concentrate on his program. He could win the gold a third time, he was young, he could even surpass Nikiforov, skating was all he had left after all.

"Yura, davai!" His eyes darted towards the public where he found Otabek with his thumbs up, smiling at him like nothing happened. He felt his stomach turning upside down – Otabek was not supposed to be there, he wasn't scheduled to skate but later this afternoon. From that point on, his mind began to cloud and his skating was a fiasco, he had no chance at gold anymore, especially as he ended with a fall. He almost sprained an ankle. Everyone was stunned by the weak representation and he would have cried if he wouldn't have felt so numb. He never experienced such a fail in skating, he wasn't sure how he should act and once the reporters began to ask question Yakov pulled him by the arm, surprised with Yuri's reaction. Normally he would have yelled at them and told them to fuck off, he would have shown middle fingers but his best skater was not himself lately and that was clear. Once they reached the lockers Yakov closed the door behind him.

"Are you alright?" The old man, usually cold and distant was now staring at his pupil, worry enveloping his entire body. Not even Viktor fell so bad during his darkest times and Viktor was a lot more dramatic. Yuri nodded. "You're not fooling anyone, Plisetsky. We're not leaving until you don't tell me what is going on"

"It's none of your goddamn business!" The blonde yelled, snapping out of the numbness.

"I'm your couch!"

"I don't care! Go fuck yourself with your entire team!" He pushed the closest wooden bench with his still hurting foot and stormed out of the place, running out of the place, swimming between reporters and fans. He didn't need any of their bullshit, didn't need pity, didn't need anyone. He took a cab to the hotel room where he stormed into the mini bar and sat on the balcony. Thank God they had Vodka. He sipped the little bottle, without juice, and looked outside, enjoying the sight he had of Prague. It was indeed a beautiful city, too bad he was having such a shitty time. His phone was constantly ringing and he blocked everyone – Yakov, Mila, Viktor, Katsudon, Georgi, even Otabek. For someone who chose "strength" as his theme, he sure was weak.

He was already feeling sick when someone knocked on his door and he tiptoed to see who it was. As expected, it was Otabek Altin himself so he decided to ignore it and sat down on the bed.

"I know you're there, open the door"

"Fuck off!" Yuri groaned.

"Yura" The Kazakh warned. "Please, let me in before someone sees me here" He had his point but it still took a few moments for the blonde to unlock the door and his friend came in, looking at him with a straight face. Yuri went to the mini-fridge where he grabbed another small bottle – this one of Jaeger. "Have you eaten?" No answer. "Yura"

"I let you in because you don't need a scandal, that doesn't mean I will talk to you" He jumped on the bed where he began to drink, staring at the ceiling. Otabek changed too, he saw that on his Instagram, he had a few piercings in each ear now and he got a little taller and buffer too. He had a broad back, unlike himself – he turned out to be a very attractive man.

"Yura" The Kazakh said gently, grabbing the little bottle out of his friend's fingers. "Stop this"

"Who the fuck do you think you are, Altin?" The Russian yelled. "Go back to your fucking perfect life, you obnoxious fuck!" Otabek stared at the blonde, no expression on his face. He didn't take it to the heart, in two years he learnt well enough that this was Yuri's defence mechanism. He went closer and reached for the blonde's cheek, slowly leaning towards him.

"It's okay" The punk hissed and tried to get away but Otabek grabbed his wrist, holding him in place.

"I hate you, fucking shithead!" He shouted and the first punch came. A fist fell across Otabek's cheek hard enough to make him wince in pain. The others fell on his chest but he didn't complain, he let the anger come out along with a lot of other curses."I hate you! I hate you!" He yelled again and again and Otabek swore he never saw someone break as quickly and as tragically before his eyes. Tears began to stream down his face as he continued to violently assault the person in front of him and the sobs echoed inside the room; they were not silent, it was a howl, the type of crying a hurt animal would make. It wasn't graceful, it wasn't pretty to witness, nothing cinematographic in it – it made Otabek swallow, pained at the sight.

"It's fine, Yura" he murmured again and again. "You're alright" They were pathetic lines but he had no better things to say, he simply waited until the blonde calmed down a little and forced him into a hug, holding him flushed against his chest. Yuri was still struggling but he didn't weaken the hold until the blonde fell limp in his arms. Yuri's heavy breathing was still painful to witness, just like the tears that wouldn't stop but Otabek wiped them away gently with a hand, supporting the slim body with the other. "It's okay, I'm here with you" he whispered in his ear and Yuri shuddered.

"Who won?"

"JJ. I came third and you came fourth" The Kazakh said and tried to smoothen the furrowed eyebrows in front of him. "Everyone's worried"

"I don't care"

"Yura" he admonished, running his fingers through blonde hair. He missed this, it's been too long. It's been almost a year since they've seen each other, since he could smell and touch him but Yuri was there and they were together now. "I missed you" he whispered and the Russian shivered in his arms because he missed him so much too.

"I'm sorry I hit you" His face was buried in the Kazakh's neck and he slowly gripped tighter on the body in front of him.

"Don't worry about it. I want to know what happened" Otabek pulled away gently to look at the still tear-stained face, searching for those beautiful green eyes he was so in love with. Yuri's nose was red and his lips were parted slightly, helping him breathe. Even like this he was the most beautiful person Beka ever saw, he was breath-taking. His eyes slipped downwards on the skating costume that still hadn't come off and he frowned when he saw how much the ribs were showing, the teen was skinnier than before.

Yuri couldn't easily talk about himself, he's been dealing with problem all his life so it wasn't like he could just blurt out his thoughts and get over with it. He shifted uncomfortable, feeling his eyes cloud once again and Otabek rested against the bed frame, pulling his friend in his arms once again.

"Whatever it is, I am sure you can surpass it... we could surpass it" Otabek whispered and Yuri closed his eyes.

"I'm ne – never good enough, Beka" he winced. "I fuck up, I am fucked up" he swallowed hard, his throat hurting and looked up, ready to find disgust. Otabek's eyes were filled with nothing close to disgust, they were watching him with kindness and patience.

"That is not true"

"But it is!" The blonde yelled, tearing himself apart from his friend. "It doesn't matter how many medals I win, I am still worthless, people don't like me..."

"You have an entire family who loves you, Yura – you have your grandpa, your team, even Lilia and Yakov. You have Sofyia." Yuri let out a sarcastic smile at his cat's name. "You have me" The last part was harder than he thought it would be to say, he felt the words burning his tongue on their way out.

"Beka" was all that Yuri managed to say, his voice small. Otabek's face was a picture of remorse, he wasn't supposed to bring his feelings up again, that only hurt Yuri more.

"You're the reason why I wanted so bad to become a figure skater. Back then, when we were children, you were the most beautiful sight my eyes ever witnessed. I knew I wasn't as talented as you but I wanted to be on the same ice-rink as you. I wanted to never have to stop watching you skate." Yuri's breath hitched but there was no going back right now.

"Beka"

"Don't say you're a fuck up ever again" Otabek muttered, watching him straight in the eye. Yuri grinned, a little forced, his face flooded with silent tears.

"Fuck!" he gasped. The Kazakh was ready to be kicked out any moment now so he looked down at his hands, expecting the worst. "You're annoying, Altin." He said, his face becoming straight. "I can't stand you"

"Too bad" Otabek sassed back, surprising Yuri.

"I'm shit with people and I'll probably make your life a living hell" The blonde gulped. "But I... I have come to terms with my feelings." The Kazakh looked up, incredulous, seeing the teen's cheeks were burning a bright pink. "I like you" It was selfish of him to expect Otabek to take him back, it was also selfish to say what he was feeling was "like" because it sure was more than that but that was all he could manage for the moment.

"As a friend?" Yuri threw him a raging glance.

"As in I want to kiss you and hold your hand and shit" He took a big breath. "I would even share my piroschkis with you" The Kazakh smiled, feeling his face heating and wondering just how many times he imagined this moment.

"Yura" Trembling fingers brushed through tangled and golden strands.

"Just say what you want already, goddamn it!" He was trying to seem brave but he was shaking.

"I want you" This time Otabek left his manners aside, deciding there were other times when he could be a gentleman and leaned for a starved kiss, making Yuri close his eyes only when their lips locked together. He was tasting of vodka but he was completely sober now, taking in everything that was going on. It wasn't a gentle kiss like they shared before, Otabek was rough and desperate, as if he was making sure they would not break this time. Yuri's arms wrapped around him and he ungracefully climbed in his lap, not breaking the contact for a moment. When they parted, Yuri sighed disappointed but didn't admit, resting his forehead against Otabek's.

"Again" he said after a while and the Kazakh widened his eyes. "I said again" Yuri smirked and the boy complied, licking gently the already wet lips. His tongue danced across the entrance and Yuri went with it naturally, opening his mouth and letting his friend – no, boyfriend – taste him completely, tongues brushing against each other. It was the first time Yuri was French kissing so he wasn't exactly sure what he was supposed to do but he tried to mimic Otabek, not caring that they teeth collided from time to time. It felt intimate and he needed it, he wanted to be so close to Beka that nothing could stand between them, he craved him.

When they finally parted for air they were both breathing heavily and Yuri rested his head against Otabek's neck, feeling his lips tingly and swollen.

"It was the first time I..." he gulped and Otabek forced his face to look up, studying his eyes. He knew the blonde was inexperienced, that because he hated most people but he never thought he was this inexperienced. He felt like he corrupted him so he began to worry.

"Do you like it?"

"If I fucking like it?" Yuri shouted. "I could give up ballet and skating to do that all day, Altin!" His happiness was contrasting his red face but it was understandable as he was only now recovering from a storm of feelings.

"Really?" Otabek grinned – a rare sight.

"I might come to visit you every weekend just to do this shit" Yuri continued and the older boy laughed.

"Please do, then" Two hands gripped his shirt and a blonde head pressed against his chest.

"Yakov will go nuts when he'll here we're dating" The sounds were muffled but the happiness was obvious. He stopped the babbling and looked up as if he saw the sun for the first time. He straightened his back and placed a chaste and loving kiss on Otabek's lips before hiding his expression once again, relaxing into the safety of the other's arms.

"I know" The Kazakh smiled, rubbing his back in a soothing manner. They didn't say anything for a while, until Yuri grabbed his phone and entered the Russian team's chat to write:

Yurio: Chill ur dumb asses, I'm w/ Beka. C u 2morrow.

He then switched to camera and asked Otabek to pose for a few selfies. He looked horrible because of the crying, his skin was red and his make-up was smeared but he couldn't give less fucks.

"I'm not gonna post any, just want to have memories of this night" He said to Beka who simply shrugged, not caring that much about these stuff. "Or should I post one to make it official?"

"Do you really want to have me killed so soon?" Otabek asked and Yuri laughed, agreeing. Yakov was not going to take things easy, especially not after Viktor and Katsudon. He didn't have to ask the Kazakh if he was going to stay the night because he already knew the answer so after taking a shower and changing into leggings and a black t-shirt he snuggled in bed, head resting close to a fast-beating heart. He wasn't even mad anymore about the Grand Prix – he knew that he won something far more important than a gold medal.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading my story! I hope you enjoyed it, I loved reading all your reviews, you're all sweethearts! Also, feel free to leave suggestions for other stories including Yuri and Beka¬ Thank you! xo