A/N: This is it! This is the final chapter! It's been a lengthy and difficult process at times, but I'm glad that I decided to write this. Everyone who commented and kudoed and followed and favorited and reviewed and shared and even just took the time to read this, thank you. I wouldn't have finished this without your support. And huge thanks to the creator who messaged me the idea for this fic. You all are awesome.

I will miss this. Completing this is like having a party and a funeral at the same time. My heart is conflicted. But I am excited to get back to other projects that have gathered dust. Some will be Viktuuri works, such as continuing Once More and adding a possible third (and final, I swear) chapter to In the Depths We Lie. Keep an eye out. Gotta add some shameless self-promotion where I can, right?

But you all didn't come here to listen to me ramble. Let's get on with the finale!

Sorry. I am deliriously happy that I finished this. Ignore me. Carry on.

It seemed like such a silly, unremarkable thing to miss. The simplicity of a morning routine. One with Yuuri in it.

Viktor woke to the sputter of the tub faucet, a rush of water following and he reached across the expanse of sheets beside him to find rumpled blankets empty. "Yuuri?" Viktor blinked at the sound of feet padding across tile. The bathroom light was like a tunnel in the darkness of their hotel room. Viktor followed its path, shivering at the early morning air that stole the sleep-drowsy warmth from his skin, and slipped in to see Yuuri stepping under the spray, reaching up to slick his cactus hair back and swipe the water from his eyes. Yuuri jumped as Viktor knocked against the doorframe, turning swiftly to squint in Viktor's direction before he relaxed.

"I was trying not to wake you up," Yuuri said, sheepish as he leaned his head out of the water. "It's not even morning yet."

"Mmm." Viktor nodded, yawning noisily and Yuuri chuckled. "Going to call it my old man yawn again?" Viktor asked, stepping toward the counter and fumbling with the zipper on his toiletry bag.

Yuuri's chuckles stopped, but his smile was still bright. "If I can hear it from beneath all of this water, then that should tell you something."

Viktor side-eyed him like he was genuinely irritated. "If it isn't morning yet, then why are you up?" Extracting his toothbrush and toothpaste, Viktor dove into his own routine, brushing the nastiness of sleep off of his tongue and the backs of his teeth.

"Thanks to someone sleeping like a log on top of me I woke up with a coat of sweat on my skin. Want to guess who's at fault?"

Yuuri's impish smile made Viktor laugh around his tooth brush, coughing against toothpaste foam. He slapped the toilet seat down and sat atop it, wincing at the feel of icy porcelain beneath his bare skin. "Sorry," he garbled. Sitting back, Viktor crossed his ankles, let his gaze wander along Yuuri's form. He mumbled toward Yuuri, toothbrush shoved between teeth and cheek.

"I can't understand you."

Viktor tugged the brush free, swishing the toothpaste and spitting it into the sink before he turned back with a dramatic huff. "I said that I have been missing this view."

Viktor had, but in the quiet stillness of early morning, while he listened to the water pour down Yuuri's body and watched Yuuri sigh with that tranquil smile as the buttery warmth seeped into his skin, Viktor took notice of something startlingly different about Yuuri. He was thinner. His sides straight, thighs slender, even his squishy cheeks hollowed down to a pointed chin. His neck was now delicately thin. The curves that Viktor's fingertips had once traced had receded into harsh lines. There was a fullness to Yuuri that was absent. This awareness caused a dull pain to spread through Viktor's chest. Not at the difference in Yuuri's body, Viktor would love Yuuri in any form he took, Viktor did not doubt that, but at the fact that this change was so dramatic. It seemed almost too drastic, unhealthy. But Viktor hadn't seen Yuuri, in the flesh, in such close proximity, before his eyes, beneath his hands, for two months. Two entire months. They'd been desperate to feel each other when joining the night before, eating at each other, and Viktor somehow missed Yuuri's body's transformation.

Viktor was missing everything.

Now, with Yuuri before him, Viktor felt the need to reexplore the terrain that he used to know every inch of, measured and marked and intimately inspected.

"Stop staring," Yuuri giggled, hiding his face in the palm of his hand and turning back to the oncoming rush of water. "You're going to give me performance anxiety. I didn't even know you could get that in the shower."

"Depends on what you're doing in the shower."

Yuuri scoffed, playfully wiggling his butt back at Viktor.

"What an invitation."

"I'm going to throw this shampoo at you in a minute."

Viktor sneered at the bottle in Yuuri's palm, the hotel's custom label bold and clear even in the heated mist. "I don't use hotel shampoo. You think I would leave this," Viktor pointed at the delicately balanced shine and volume of his hair, "to that?"

Yuuri sucked his cheeks in, amusement badly hidden as he mocked, "Only the best for the best."

Viktor nodded with all seriousness, rummaging through his toiletry bag for his own soap and stepped into the shower. The water hit like red hot pinpricks, but he settled his body around Yuuri's, slotting into a place only he could fit into. Popping off the cap, Viktor poured a generous amount into his hand, began massaging it into Yuuri's scalp. "Only the best for Mr. and Mr. Best."

Yuuri inhaled, drinking in the scent between droplets. "Smells like moonlight. Over a lake. In a deep, wooded forest."

Viktor hummed against the wing of Yuuri's shoulder blade, lips chasing water trails, whisper-soft, "It's officially tomorrow now. You know what that means?"

"Keep doing that with your fingernails and I won't care what day it is."

Viktor's smile was so wide that he could feel the imprint his lips would leave behind along Yuuri's spine. "Happy birthday, Yuuri." Surprise tightened Yuuri's muscles, and Viktor knew that Yuuri had managed to forget, like they were lost beneath the moonlight in that forest, where time couldn't reach. "Wait until you see your present."

Yuuri turned on him, a sour face beneath sudsy hair that Viktor had lathered into a mess. "Remember, we said no gifts. You've given me enough. Besides, you being here is enough of a present." Yuuri settled into Viktor, hugging their chests together.

"Who said I was giving you anything?"

Yuuri pulled back. "You said…"

"Your present is more of an experience." Viktor tapped a finger on Yuuri's nose before he slipped closer, hands set to relearn and reclaim. "An all day long one…"

Yuuri nodded. Nodded. And nodded again. He was focused on nodding all the way through Yakov's warnings. He stood straight, nodding and nodding and nodding like a bobble head. One of those creepy ones that go back and forth like a metronome, paralyzing the viewer in place to see if it will ever stop. If Yuuri kept nodding, he wouldn't screw anything up. He wouldn't think too hard about the high heels his feet were scrunched into or the wig that made his hair feel like it was full of spiders. Mila had way too much fun with this…

"I can't say that I approve of your… disguise," Yakov coughed, and Yuuri swallowed at his look of displeasure. There was a tweak of amusement to his lips that caused Yuuri to settle back into his heels. "But it should do. You can NOT be seen by Viktor. You hear me, Katsuki? I do not want there to be any chance of your presence negatively impacting his skating. You're surprising him for his birthday, fine. After the competition, got it?"

Yuuri flinched at the growl of a command, but nodded more fervently than he had before.

"Stop that."

Yuuri did. Then his eyes widened, catching sight of Viktor over Yakov's shoulder. "Ah- Mr-" Yuuri jumped, before pressing a hand against his padded chest and feminizing his voice to an octave that made Yuuri want to die. "Mr. Feltsman, I think I've got everything I need for the article. Thank you so, so much."

Yakov's brows bunched, before he caught on. "Right. Right. Off you go." He swiveled around to face an incoming Viktor who was chatting with Chris.

Yuuri turned, finding a throng of people before him. Looking desperately for a path of escape, Yuuri cried out as a hand yanked him back behind a bleacher banner.

"Quiet."

Yuuri spun to find Georgi. The skater held a finger to his lips, holding Yuuri just out of sight. "Yakov will kill you if you're seen now."

"Thank you," Yuuri whispered.

Viktor laughed, catching Yuuri's attention as his voice moved closer. "She was plenty pretty and fashionable-"

"She was wearing crocs!" Chris cried, sounding comically aghast.

"Viktor!" Yakov snapped.

"Time for me to head out," Chris said.

"Yes, dearest coach?"

"Slacking before your performance? Need I remind you-"

"That I have devoted my very existence to you in reconciliation for my most idiotic stunt of taking a vacation. No, you need not remind me."

"You need to win this, Vitya. The world is watching you with skepticism now. You have much to prove."

Yuuri's breath caught, and though Yuuri could see nothing past the yellow cross-stitch of the banner keeping him and Georgi concealed, he could imagine the look on Viktor's face, that steeled look of repressed anger.

But Viktor's voice had no traces of it. "I always deliver a stellar, platinum grade performance. You should know that better than anyone."

"Cinch the gold for yourself and I'll give you a surprise worthy of such a performance."

"That hasn't worked since I was fourteen."

"You haven't lost since then, now have you?"

A new voice rang out, cutting across Viktor and Yakov's conversation. "Prima ballerinas do not slouch like savages." Yuuri's attention cut toward it, spotting Yuri's approach from the slit of space between banner and bleacher. "Pick those shoulders up!"

"Tch, yes, ma'am."

Yuuri eeped, a croaky, terribly loud sound, and quickly tried to shove the sound back into his mouth with his hands. Yuri twitched in their direction, and Yuuri stepped back to further conceal himself only for his heel to stab back against Georgi.

"Augh!"

"I am so sorry," Yuuri whisper-shrieked toward Georgi, hands fluttering to check and fix. The fabric of Georgi's costume was stretched at the front of his calf, threaded from a rippling tear. Georgi balanced himself on one leg, rubbing the abused spot, expression scrunched.

"Do not worry about me. Worry about-"

"A-hem."

Yuuri froze, sending a quick prayer out to the cosmos that he hadn't heard what he most certainly had. He pivoted slowly on the point of his heel to see Yuri grinning maniacally at him. "Yuri, please don't."

Yuri's grin grew conniving cat sharp, gaze locking in on who Yuuri assumed was Viktor and then back. "GEE, KATSUDON," Yuuri called out, elevating his voice and making Yuuri want to cremate and bury himself deep into the bowels of the earth, "THAT'S A NEW LOOK FOR YOU. I DIDN'T KNOW YOU AND GEORGI WERE THAT CLOSE."

Every point of contact between Yuuri and Georgi felt amplified in that moment, the skin burning and blistering and Yuuri skittered away from the man as fast as he could. The tip of his shoe caught on the ties at the edge of the banner and he found himself colliding face first into the concrete.

Out in plain sight.

"Yuuri!"

This. This is what it feels like to die. Take me now. Please.

Yuuri could feel fingers, hands, familiar and perfect, on his back and arms, helping him up. He could also feel a warm, seeping sensation from his nose, watching the reddish-brown droplets pitter patter onto Mila's dress. The initial crunch of pain was deadened by the sheer amount of mortification that tsunamied over Yuuri. Yuuri held a hand under his nose, chin up as he smiled through tears of embarrassment at Viktor. "I just… couldn't miss your performance," Yuuri muttered through shuttered fingers.

"Yuuri. Look at you." Viktor gripped under the bone of Yuuri's nose, yanking his head down. "How-? Why-?"

"Um," Yuuri winced, voice crackling with pain. "Just one of the constants in our relationship. My head always takes some form of a beating."

"I was talking about the outfit, not the entrance. Not that you don't make a fantastic woman, but- Why didn't you tell me that you were coming?"

Yuuri replaced Viktor's fingers with his own, pinching his nostrils shut and speaking in that nasally, head cold voice. "It was supposed to be a surprise."

Viktor's hands, that were busy righting the wig on Yuuri's head, fluffing the long black waves around Yuuri's shoulders, stopped. Viktor abruptly began laughing, inclining his head toward his disgruntled coach. "Yakov. I always knew you were going to try to marry me off someday."

"Bah!" Yakov tossed up his arms, causing Viktor to laugh harder, his head falling forward as he buried his chuckles into Yuuri's synthetic hair. "I expected you to fail. Not so spectacularly, I admit, but I did."

Yuuri shrunk down, already watching the mental depictions of a thousand different forms of apology. He began his first with a bow until Yakov stopped him, shoving a handkerchief in front of Yuuri's face.

"Mop yourself up. You look dreadful."

"I'm just glad," Georgi began, stumbling out from behind the banner, "that I finished my skate an hour ago."

"Georgi! I am incredibly sorry. You were trying to help me and I- D-Do you need to see a medic or a doctor or…" Yuuri turned to Viktor, "Where is it that you guys go when you're hurt?"

"You are so new to this, it's adorable." Viktor put an arm around Yuuri's shoulders before jumping to take off his RU coat and draping it around Yuuri. "You're freezing. Heh, I told you that you would end up with my jacket."

Yuuri smiled from behind the handkerchief tenting his nose, settling into Viktor's renewed embrace. "All according to plan, right?"

"Blech," Yuri grunted as he stalked off.

Georgi leaned against the wall, rolling up his pant leg and running a hand against his fresh wound. "It is merely a graze. Nothing to worry about. But I would watch getting too cuddly there. You two are going to get the rumor mill spinning again and Ketty is going to talk my ear off about how unjust the media is."

"That- You're right." Yuuri pulled himself away, but Viktor tugged him back, sandwiching him to the man's side.

"Let them talk. Cheating on my Yuuri with another Yuuri. I can't imagine a better affair."

"Distracted," Yakov groused. "I knew Katsuki would be nothing but a distraction."

"Inspired," Viktor corrected, "Yuuri only ever inspires me."

"Then take your inspired ass to the podium and prove it. You're up next."

The reality of their surroundings crashed back into Yuuri in the whoosh of a wave. The music, a cheering, screaming crowd, an announcer crackling over the speakers, the thunder crack of a skate hitting the ice as it landed a jump. Viktor was up next, the music winding down as cries for the rise of Lithuania rang out, flags flashing from yellow, green and red to the coming stripes of Russia. Yuuri didn't register his own footsteps, or Viktor's hold guiding him forward. There was only that winding coil tightening in his gut, his mind whirring like broken cogs forced to spin with all of Yuuri's terrified thoughts.

Viktor was going to skate. Yuuri wasn't supposed to see Viktor before the competition ended. Viktor wasn't supposed to know. What if Viktor messed up? What if Viktor lost? What if it was all Yuuri's fault? Like Viktor's vacation. Like the rumors. Like Viktor's family's fallout.

Viktor's hands left Yuuri, alone, cold, standing on that beach in limbo where he'd been for months. An eternity. Viktor's skates hissed against the ice and Yuuri scrunched his eyes shut. He didn't want to see. He couldn't. He would hide in the black, fuzzed haze that were the backs of his eyelids.

"Yuuri."

Viktor turned back toward him, leaning over the boundary that separated them both, and clasped Yuuri's fingers in his grasp. Just that hint of contact, that purposeful touch in a moment captured before hundreds of eyes, caused Yuuri's heart to run stampede wild, beating like a million stomping footsteps that trampled over his racing mind. Yuuri wanted to tell Viktor to go, that the world was waiting, but he remained silent, cradled in Viktor's hand. Kept, peacefully together, wonderfully whole.

"Keep your eyes on me. Right here," Viktor whispered, knocking his forehead against Yuuri's, their rings clicking together between a squeeze of fingers.

"I will. But remember what I said. Don't skate for me. Skate for yourself, "Yuuri leaned back, breaking their connection, though Viktor's warmth never left him, "Vitya."

Viktor skated back out, and any regrets Yuuri felt were swept away by Viktor's gleeful smile as he floated into the center of his arena. Viktor had returned to his rightful place. His ice. Amid all who adored him.

He was back in his world.

Yuuri shook his head, sliding the wig off and staring out.

"This is our world."

The high had yet to fall. He was still Viktor Nikiforov, International figure skating star, bright and sweaty from the spotlight and the exertion, his emotions strung up with the stars. He did it. He won. The medal still dangled from his throat, no longer a noose tying him to obligation, but a collar of belonging. It banged against his chest with every step, reminding him of his most recent victory. But his smile was not due to the medal, or any physical symbol of his hard fought victory. It was due to the man leading him around by his hand. His fiancé. Viktor's smile grew ridiculously wide at the thought. He probably looked manic with happiness, parading around some serial killer smile that he knew he should dial down before it was captured on camera. The ice prince looking like a psychopath. But he couldn't. He couldn't push down this feeling. A feeling that was now tied around their fingers, linking Yuuri to him forever.

Soon.

"Yuuuuri. Why are you dragging us back to the rink? I meant what I said at dinner. I just want to curl up with my solntse and fall into a coma."

"As tempting as that sounds," Yuuri turned, walking backwards as he caught both of Viktor's hands in his, still mushing Viktor forward like a sled dog, "and it does sound tempting, I have a surprise for you."

"More surprises? You in lipstick and heels wasn't all?"

Yuuri's face twisted, his fist coming up to rub at his lips. "I did get it all off, right?"

Before Viktor could answer that Yuuri was lipstick free and as beautiful as ever, there was a thud from the front entrance, and before Viktor could look at the cause he was snatched by the front of his coat and pulled to the side, hidden behind a wall. Yuuri was pushed up against him, keeping them concealed in the shadows while peeking around the corner.

"Ooo, we're hiding? Is this some sort of secret mission?"

Yuuri brought a finger to his lips, speaking in hushed tones, "If it was you would have gotten us caught and executed already."

Viktor bounced in his spot, offsetting Yuuri and nearly making him fall from his place carefully balanced on the rounded ends of his sneakers. Viktor made the motion of clapping his hands. "You be Bond and I'll be the dame to kill for."

"Shh! Wait, I think you're mixing up movies."

"Or! You be Brad and I'll be Angelina."

"Why do I have to be the idiot?"

[Did you hear that?]

The clacking of footsteps stopped. Yuuri pushed them both closer to the wall, form taut, not breathing. Viktor listened, recognizing the voices as they neared.

[What? You always think you hear things, Lilia. So much paranoia.]

[And you never hear anything. Crotchety old man is more of a personality trait for you, Yakov.]

Viktor choked back a laugh. Yuuri glanced up at him, confused.

[Personality trai-!]

[Calm down. Your face is grumpy enough already.]

There was a loud huff, and the footsteps continued. [You can attribute that to Vitya. He gives me no end of trouble.]

[I have never seen your buck as driven as he appeared to be today. I am still unsure about that fiancé of his, but there is little doubt that Viktor's head and heart have been led in the right direction.]

There was a bout of mirthful laughs. The two were almost out of earshot and Viktor strained to hear Yakov as he said, [He is more than a legend now. He is a man.]

Viktor wasn't sure he heard Yakov clearly, but his emotions flooded forth, stinging his eyes and clogging his throat. Yuuri pulled back from him, granting him space to breathe and Viktor gulped in a fortifying breath. Bending over with his hands on his knees, Viktor felt like that high, all of that competition-winning adrenaline, was wrung out of him with those few words of recognition.

There was a tugging on his sleeve. Viktor stood back up to look at Yuuri. "What did they say?"

Viktor tucked his bursting emotions away, focused on different ones. "Just pillow talk, Yuuri. You sure you want a translation?"

"Nope. No. That's alright."

Yuuri led him back into the rink. It was still lit, despite the late hour, empty of everyone and everything that had brightened it the most. The ice was glossed over, free of every etch. All was quiet, a stark contrast. It reminded Viktor of when he used to come to the rink in the off hours, remind himself of how dead the ice looked without its skaters to project its soul. It inspired him to skate, to electrify the ice back to life.

Yuuri sat on one of the benches where a pair of skates sat, looking lonely and forgotten with only a bag as its company. Yuuri slipped out of his shoes, began lacing himself into the seemingly forlorn skates.

"Hurry up," Yuuri encouraged, grasping at the pocket of Viktor's coat to sit him down. "I didn't have you bring your skates for nothing." Viktor stared at Yuuri's skates, then his own, unmoving. "What?"

"I just…" Viktor looked behind him, made a show of not quite pinching himself in the arm, "am I in some alternate reality? Did I pass out on the ice or something? You don't skate."

"Pfft. Yeah, well, today I do." Yuuri stood, wobbly but proud. He stooped to pick up the bag that leaned against the bench, first taking out a towel before unveiling a black box from its contents. One with a lens. A projector?

Yuuri carefully, cautiously made his way to the rink. "I've been practicing, buuuu~t" Yuuri's foot slid out, unbalancing him. Viktor jolted forward to catch him, but Yuuri caught himself. Stood on his own. "I'm good. See. Good. I've been practicing, but I wouldn't expect too much from a month of twice per week practices." Yuuri glided out to the middle, came to a stuttering stop at the very center of the rink. He spread the towel out on the ice, set the projector in the middle. "I know how much you wanted to see the meteor shower, but we couldn't get our schedules cleared, so I thought of something." Yuuri held up two fingers, a peace sign, their v for victory and every meaning it held, signaling toward the viewing box. Viktor looked in its direction to see a man signaling back, before darkness blackened everything, even Yuuri, from sight.

"Uh, Yuuri?" Something whirred to life, a beam of light shooting up from the ice. The ceiling brightened, millions of blue and white and purple dots blinking and shooting across the metal beams. The night sky hung over the ice, shooting comets reflected in its shine. The stars were brilliant, bright and sparkling balls of light, little ones a glimmering backdrop like grains of blue sand. There were sharp white streaks, like lightning striking across the stars, blink and miss comets. Wishes flew across the sky only to fade out of sight. Out of existence. Viktor brought his hands over his mouth, catching his exclamation of disbelief. "Yuuri."

"Don't just stand there," Yuuri was lit up in the blue hue of light, the stars seemingly swimming in his eyes, "come see the meteor shower with me."

Viktor shook as he put on his skates, his earlier exhilaration reigniting like a flame. He skated out toward Yuuri, propelling himself forward fast enough that when Viktor wrapped his arms around Yuuri it left them spinning.

"Okay! Okay, Viktor! You're happy. I get it. Now make us stop!"

"I'm so much more than happy, Yuuri." Viktor stared up above them, marveled at the sight. He was standing in an ocean of stars, being showered in their vivid intensity. With the cold breath of the ice, Viktor could have fooled himself that he was outside, experiencing this cosmic wonder beside Yuuri like they had promised. "I don't think there is a word to describe how I feel right now."

"Mila and Georgi helped me set it up. Did you know Mila has an ex-boyfriend who is an astronomer? He was able to get her direct footage from the night that we missed. Pretty sure Yakov helped, too. In his own way." Yuuri's eyes swept across the ceiling, then landed back on Viktor. "The sky is up there. Why are you looking at me?"

"Because I have the best sight right next to me." Viktor drew Yuuri in, framed his face in his hands, the tips of his thumbs tracing the corners of Yuuri's lips. "Your smile. You smile with every muscle in your face. I wanted to get that reaction. It's all I thought about during my performance."

"Well, you got it. I was smiling with my entire body." Yuuri nipped at Viktor's thumb, caught it between his lips.

"Call me it again."

The smile shrunk back from Viktor's fingers. "Vitya," Yuuri said, heated passion in his eyes, burning white hot like the comets showering down over their heads.

"Again."

"Vitya."

Viktor drank in the sound, the curve of it in Yuuri's mouth, his being seemingly held between Yuuri's teeth. "You've never called me that before."

Yuuri shied away, clasping his hands around Viktor's and dragging them down to his neck. Viktor could feel Yuuri's words in his throat, shaky with uncertainty, and maybe an ounce of embarrassment. "I've been meaning to. I always chickened out, agonizing about when the right time would be, how you would react, if I would be overstepping… crossing some sort of line. But this time… It tumbled out effortlessly."

"That's how it's supposed to happen, Yuuri."

Yuuri scrunched a rueful smile to the side, before pulling Viktor's hands from his skin, dangling them between them. "You always have such cold hands." Yuuri brought them up, kissed each winding crease, pressing his devotion into the crisscrossing lines.

"It's a good thing that I have you to warm them." Viktor could have lived in Yuuri's baker hands that warmed dough and batter and hearts. Viktor felt like something precious inside of them.

They circled around the rink, hand in hand, watching the stars burn out their radiance. Viktor swung around behind Yuuri, kept him in his grasp at all times, pushing his hands into the pockets at the front of Yuuri's rough-worn sweat jacket.

"Is this a hole?" Viktor wiggled his fingers in at the seam where the fabric had an unintended jagged mouth. "This jacket is getting burned."

"No! It's my favorite."

"I'll buy you a new one."

Yuuri shook his head, hair swishing against Viktor's chin. "I'll buy myself a new one."

"Oh, now you got coin you're just gonna kick me to the curb?"

"You've been watching too many shows with Yuri." Yuuri chuckled, turning around in Viktor's arms as well as he could in his skates. "I love you, but I don't need you to take care of me."

"What if I want to?"

Yuuri seemed to ponder that question, eyes lifting to their sky that for now belonged to them and only them. The stars glittered inside of Yuuri's dark irises, reflecting the galaxy that Viktor always knew was inside of him. "We'll take care of each other."

"I guess I can live with that."

"It's a little late, but… Happy birthday, Viktor."

"I want it on record that I am not here of my own volition," Yuri said, sulking beneath his leopard print hood. "I am a hostage. Help."

"You sound spectacularly convincing, Dollface," Mari said, bumping him with a teasing shoulder.

"You can take that dollface nickname and stick it up your-"

"Ah-ah," Leo chided from behind the camera, "This is a family friendly program."

"Since when?" they both asked.

Yuuri watched, more amused than embarrassed. They had only just begun filming and things were already getting lively. The kitchen of the bakery was closed, Yuuri, Leo, and Minami recording a new video with Mari and Yuri as guest stars. Yuuri was… more than nervous. He was anxious, worried, nauseous, tense, apprehensive, stressed- the list could have stretched for miles, yet with every word and laugh, things felt right.

Easy.

"Alright, everybody. Let's get back on point," Yuuri started, holding out an apron for Yuri. "We've got food to make."

"I'm not wearing that like I'm some fifty's housewife."

Mari grinned. "Good luck getting the stains out of that jacket of yours then, Yurio."

Yuri's eyes widened and he looked down his front. Pinching his cheeks between his teeth, Yuri snatched the apron from Yuuri's outstretched hand, staring it down like it was entirely foreign to him. "I will not be called Yurio."

"We have to do something-"

"Mari," Yuuri stepped between the two of them, "it's okay. I'll be Katsudon today. Right, Yuri?"

Yuri paused in his attempt at donning the apron, his arm halfway beneath the neck strap. His look of pure astonishment gave Yuuri his answer.

"So," Minami clapped, "what are we making, Yuuri? You wouldn't tell us."

"We are going to be cross-breeding today, creating a Katsudon Pirozhki hybrid. For those unfamiliar with those dishes," Yuuri held up two hands, knowing Leo would insert pictures of each dish over them during the editing process, "Katsudon is a bowl of rice topped with a deep-fried pork cutlet, egg, vegetables, and condiments. Pirozhki are baked or fried yeast-leavened boat-shaped buns with a variety of fillings. Despite Yuri's hostage claims, this is actually a recipe that came from him." Yuuri gestured over toward Yuri, who had begrudgingly allowed Mari to help him orient his apron properly on his body.

"Right," Yuri coughed into a fist, speed-blinking and tapping a foot and looking more disoriented in front of the camera than Yuuri had expected him to be. Wasn't he used to interviews and cameras, being an athletic star for all eyes, or was Yuuri making assumptions? "I, um… This is a recipe created by my grandfather. Hey, Gramps." Yuuri waved with a very small, very personal smile, before blanking his expression. "He thought these videos were cool… so I asked if he'd like to have his recipe shared and here we are. Okay, there, get that out of my face." Yuri smacked the camera in Yuuri's direction.

Yuuri bent a brow of sympathy toward Leo, but Leo gave him the go ahead signal to continue. "Given that this is a new recipe for all of us, we're going to take this slow. Bear with me. It's worth it. You'll see. We start with the Pirozhki dough." Yuuri and Mari rolled up their sleeves, Minami made grabby hands toward the prepared ingredients, while Yuri picked at a cuticle. "We have already warmed the water and milk in the microwave on high for just under a minute and poured it over the yeast. It sat for about 15 minutes. 13, actually," Yuuri whispered toward the camera, like a secret. "Time can vary, but you wait until it gets about this foamy."

"Until the dough speaks to you," Minami added, eyes closed with an ear to the bowl.

"What does that mean?" Yuri asked. "Who even is this twerp?"

"Minami," Minami announced, holding out a hand that went ignored. "… from Ciao Ciao's. We met before, but I understand if you forgot me. It happens."

"Right. And the food speaking thing?"

Minami put his hands on his hips. "It's a mastery technique. You gotta work to get to our level," Minami said, patting Yuri on the head. "You'll get there."

Before Yuri could rip off Minami's hand, Yuuri brought them back on point. "Now Minami will add the oil, salt, sugar and flour and use the dough hook on the mixer to combine. We ball it up in the center. Minami will use his floured hands to round it out some more and get all of the dough from the sides until it is a delectable dough ball."

"Katsudon in his most primitive form," Yuri muttered with a snicker. Mari smacked him upside the head. "Hey!"

"Thanks, Mar. Then you let it sit and rise in a warm area for an hour. Then mix on low again, reform the ball and let it rise another hour. While it sits, we prepare the filling."

Leo moved the camera to where Mari stood in front of the oven. "We have our pork cutlets," Mari gestured, "dried, cut, scored and seasoned. We then coat each in flour, dip in beaten egg, and coat with bread crumbs before frying." She placed the cutlets in the pan with tongs, looking toward the camera and letting out a sigh. "The sizzle is very satisfying."

"And fattening," Leo commented. "I can just envision the spare tire I would have after eating these things."

Mari clicked the tongs in his direction. "We do not think of anything but the joyous flavor when in the kitchen. Save that for the vigorous workout session after the guilt hits."

"Anyway," Yuuri led the camera to the side. "They will look like this when done. Golden and crispy. Let them dry on a towel-lined rack. Then bring your stock, mirin, soy sauce, sugar and onions to a boil in a pan until the onions are tender. Add in the cutlets, crack an egg on top, and cover the pan with a lid until eggs are set. Yuri, you want to wait and watch for when they're done?"

"You know, I am capable of doing more than watching. But it is nice to watch the dough boy in his element so keep going."

"That's it." Mari slammed her tongs down and stomped toward Yuri. "You want to know what I am capable of-"

Minami popped in between them. "Let it go! Let it goooooo~! Turn away and slam the door. I don't care what they're going to say. Let it go! Let it goooooo~!"

Mari's frown warbled and she started cracking up as Leo joined in with the song like he'd caught a virus. Yuri shoved his fingers in his ears and yelled, "Make it stop! Make it stoooooo~p!"

"I was always more of a DreamWorks person," Mari said, ending the fight with flicks to both Minami's and Yuri's noses and walking back toward the stove to flip the burner off.

"Ghibli," Yuuri countered. "Gotta be Ghibli. The egg is ready now, so we are going to work with our dough that we had pre-set. C'mon, Yurio, let's get our hands floured and stretch out some dough."

"Yurio?! You said-"

"That was before you called me dough boy," Yuuri challenged, tearing off a portion of the dough ball and flattening it on the floured countertop.

"Oho, you don't want to start that with me, Sweet Cheeks."

Yuuri twitched, face paling, then he grinned as he tossed some flour in Yuri's direction. "Right back at you, kitten."

"You want to go?!"

"Um…" Leo hesitated, "This got flirtier than I was expecting."

"Sweet cheeks?" Minami looked at Leo, then Mari. "Is that a new baker insult?"

Leo shrugged. Mari laughed so hard that she was pounding a hand against the counter, in tears. "Yuuri wishes it was a baker insult."

"How do you know about that?!" Yuuri asked around Yuri's hand that was shoving dough into Yuuri's glasses. "Wait. How do you know, Mari?"

"Remember when you asked me to do your laundry with mine?"

"Oh no."

"Yup."

When everyone had calmed back down, Yuuri and Yuri were pressing the dough into shape, Yuuri giving the less experienced Yuri tips as they went along. "You want them to be about four inches by six inches. Make sure you don't thin the dough out too much. It's going to get very full and you don't want it to tear. It should be a little loose- Not a word, Mari!"

"What?"

"I can hear those crude thoughts of yours. I don't need another Phichit."

"But it was the perfect setup!" Minami burst out from behind his hands, giggling through gloved fingers.

"You've corrupted our Minami." Yuuri hung his head, sightlessly dribbling rice over the prepared dough.

"He may look cute and innocent," Leo said, turning the camera around, "but he's an imp. Don't be fooled."

"How is he my fault? You act like I sacrificed him to Satan."

"He will be missed," Yuuri said, moving his hand in front of him in the sign of a cross. "After we pour in the rice and peas, add the egg-covered cutlets, top with more rice and peas. Then we fold the dough over and pinch it closed. Done. Easy, right?"

"Easy?! What about this is easy?"

Yuuri glanced over at Yuri's Pirozhki that looked…

"Good job mutilating it, Yurio," Mari mocked.

Mutilated was so on point that Yuuri had to scrunch his lips shut to keep from smiling. "Here. You have to be gentler."

"That's what she said."

"Really, Mari?"

"It wasn't me!"

Yuuri looked to Minami, who shook his head despite laughing his way to the floor. "Leo?"

"You guys can't have all of the fun."

"Ugh. They should be like potatoes when you're done." Yuuri held up his Katsudon Pirozhki, then added it to the baking tray and slipped it into the oven. "Bake at 375 degrees for 25 minutes until golden brown. You can deep fry them as well for extra crispness."

The video cut to Mari's hands slowly breaking open one of the finished products to show the delectably melty insides. Each of them took a bite, groaning in pleasure. The camera fell to the side, "Woah!" to be caught by Minami who snort-giggled as he carted it to the table. "That's a new one. Leo literally dropped his camera due to the intensity of his foodgasm."

Leo showed no signs of shame. "You're right. So worth it. Spare tire, here I come."

"Ow!" Yuuri yelped, glaring over at Yuri. "You kicked me."

"It's a compliment. Take it."

There he is. Our baby Yuri. I have never seen him smile like that. Where has this been all my life?

*Pauses video on Yuri's smile. Stares for twenty minutes straight*

So much cuteness Brb brain cant compute

I LOVE these videos. Fave channel.

I could so damn Daniel this rn

Like 'Damn, Yuuri. Back at it again with your videos?'

Yes

Should those two have been put together? I'm glad headband girl is refereeing, but… Maybe someone else should have signed up for this…

I volunteer as tribute!

I want one of those! Like now. Sweet lord gimme those calories.

I welcome that spare tire with arms wide open.

Cue awkward Jesus pose

'Minami… from Ciao Ciao's.' Anyone else wish Minami was wearing khakis right now?

Jake… from State Farm.

Alex… from Target. Sorry. I had to.

Sweet cheeks XD I can't- Yuuri has a new nickname.

Laundry? I have so many questions. And mental images…

It's like Japan and Russia had a food baby.

Mmmmm imagine the viktuuri babies

I'd even take some Yuuri x Yuri babies

I… think I have a new ship. Don't hurt me.

Wait. What?

#Katsudamn

#Katsudon't

Team… How would that work?

WHAAAAAAAT?!

You broke the angels

No. Hell no. Viktuuri. There is no other team.

Team girl who squashed that demonic brat's crepe

Yas. Team Mari

My soul has been saved

It looks so crunchy and melty and DELICIOUS

This is better than a baby Yoda on Christmas.

Ugh more baby yoda garbage. Every corner of the internet. I can't escape it.

Ok boomer

Yuuri stood in the hall, staring at doors that bore over him, a gateway into something new and unpredictable. They were simple, wooden swing doors, but in that moment they breathed intimidation into Yuuri's face. The other side held contestants ready to challenge him, judges ready to evaluate his every move, and cameras ready to capture his failures and display them for the world's eyes.

It was the day of the competition. The day that Yuuri had been preparing for for the better part of a year.

And he was freaking out.

He held his phone between increasingly sweaty palms, focusing on the people it tethered him to. His friends, his family, his supporters, everyone that had a hand in lifting him up. Viktor was at his back, the biggest, most constant hands pushing him forward.

But all of those hands only seemed to pull Yuuri back now. Each one was a weight clamped onto his sides, digging through skin and muscle and bone and sinking him like an anchor in the sea. Hands of expectation, of belief and hope, were making Yuuri crumble. What if he couldn't do it? What if he couldn't win? What if he wasn't good enough? He could wreck everything, his dreams, Viktor's reputation, with one wrong ingredient, or a miscalculation in baking time, or one inaccurate measurement conversion, just one wrong move.

"I can't do this. What am I doing here? Viktor, what am I doing here? I… I… I have absolutely no chance of doing anything but looking like an idiot and being laughed out of the competition! Why did I think I could do this? Sara was wrong. Phichit is wrong." Yuuri turned, ready to run, hide until it was over. He ran face first into Viktor's chest.

"Yuuri, you'll do just fine. You're so talented-"

"And you!" Yuuri accused, pointing at Viktor with his cell phone. "You're the wrongest of them all. How can you think such things? How can you even stand to be with me? Me?! Lonely, loser Yuuri. Fat pig Yuuri. Scaredy cat Yuuri. I can't do this." Yuuri's distress heightened, his worries doing what they always did, wound up in his chest, blocking his air, his thoughts, focusing him on flight. On finding safety and security somewhere that wasn't his current place or time.

He could still leave. He could go back to his old self. He could fall back into the shadows, unnoticed, unheard, living a comfortable, safe life.

"Oh, Yuuri. I hate this," Viktor said, lip curling as he glanced at the door. The distaste washed from his expression as he looked at Yuuri, taking Yuuri into his hands, holding Yuuri's sides and that lone gesture seemed to unhook the anchor from his body. "I hate that you do this to yourself. I hate that you've had so many ignorant fools reinforce these feelings inside of you. You are beautiful, Yuuri, and that shows in your work. You are beautiful and passionate and sweet and loving and so worthy of being in this competition. Everything you are, everything you don't see about yourself, shines in your work and I think you have nothing to fear."

There was a press of lips to his forehead, soft and tender, like a brush of butterfly wings that brought Yuuri back to the streets of San Francisco, standing wrapped in Viktor's suit jacket, thinking of nothing but wanting the moment to stretch into forever.

"I'm right here."

Yuuri looked into Viktor's eyes, saw only truth. "Don't take your eyes off of me."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

They leaned in, a kiss stretched between them, until they were interrupted.

"Yuuri! Yuuri, I didn't miss anything yet, did I? My flight was- Oops. Is this a bad time?"

Yuuri tilted himself back, jaw dropping as he caught sight of a frazzled man with a press badge around his neck. "Morooka?! What- What are you doing here?"

"I invited him," Viktor said, holding out a hand.

Morooka dropped his bags to quickly thrust out his own. "I've covered you, Viktor, a time or two, but thank you for giving us the scoop on our very own Katsuki Yuuri. The town news will explode with this. Everyone is already buzzing about Yuuri being an influencer."

"You told him?"

"He did more than that. He paid for us to come out here. I've been freelancing for a while, so it was a huge help. Now, I need to find my camera man and head over to the media section. I expect an exclusive on the first break, Yuuri!" Morooka waved with a grin as he retreated, calling out to a security guard down the hall.

"I didn't know you went to school with a reporter, Yuuri."

"It was elementary school. When did you learn about that? And, hey, that's not important. You not only invited a reporter, but funded his trip here?"

Viktor had the grace to give an apologetic wince. "I thought you could use some more exposure. Plus your parents get to hear about it. Plus plus the inn could get exposure through you. Who knows? Anything could happen."

Yuuri glared back. "You could at least look penitent."

"It's a televised event. What's one more reporter?"

"Don't remind me."

All this time, I got used to having to prove myself, that I'm good enough as everyone looked down on me. I'm not used to people expecting me to excel.

One of doors swung open, smacking Yuuri in the arm.

"Sorry," the emerging woman apologized, flicking back a black strand of hair from her pasty complexion. "If either of you are a contestant, they're prepping in ten. Best get in there."

Yuuri rubbed at the spot, but smiled. "Thank you. I'll be sure to, um, hurry on in."

"It's J.J. STYLE!" came a startling shout before the door flapped closed.

"My fiancé," the woman said, blushing toward the door, pride creasing her eyes. "He needs a little extra cheer sometimes."

"From himself?" Viktor questioned with a laugh.

"You have to believe in yourself, right? Sometimes you have to remind yourself just how strong your conviction is."

Yuuri watched her walk off, unprepared for how deeply that sentiment would sink in. "Believe in yourself," Yuuri whispered. Yuuri stood in front of the doors, steeling himself, transforming every nerve in his body from frayed, jumping wires into solid, electrified power. "I'm ready."

Yuuri would show the world who he was, what he wanted, where he was going

And who would be by his side.

Viktor nodded, holding open the door for Yuuri, sweeping an arm forth. "You're ready."

Yuuri could hear the gentle beginnings of music, a subdued timber accompanying the murmur of voices that drifted on the breeze outside, reminding Yuuri of the time that had come. The venue was decorated, draped with fancy cloths and arches and flowers that cost a dizzying amount of money. Their family had begun to arrive. Vows had been written, tucked carefully into breast pockets. And now Yuuri waited.

He shut the window to his father's office, drew the curtains closed, focused on breathing in and out, in and out. He was here. He was present. His gaze roved over the desk, searching for something to quell this new burst of panic that came in like high tide. Stapler. Laptop. Tablet. Tape dispenser. Sticky notes. How-to business books pressed between two glossed, wooden book ends that Yuuri had given his father when he was four. The shine had long since faded, corners dulled, but they were still standing. Still present. They had outlasted the fire. Stood as a symbol of what would forever remain.

There was a clink as Yuuri placed a pen amongst its brethren in a cup beside the books. A frame behind the cup caught Yuuri's eyes, leading him to press his fingers into the glass. Maybe if he pressed hard enough, he could absorb the moment. Recreate it. Set the two inside of it on a different, better course.

But did he need to?

The picture was of Yuuri and Mari, and even then, when they were tiny and chubby-cheeked, smiling like tomorrow didn't exist, Yuuri still held onto Mari's fingers like she was the world. It was a moment that Yuuri didn't remember, but he could feel it, as if it still sat in his heart though it was lost in the dusty spaces of his mind.

"There were few things that survived the fire," Mari said. Yuuri hadn't heard her enter, but he hung on her words like she had always been in the room. "They hold what did very close."

Yuuri felt the tiles surrounding the picture, a mosaicked frame melded together by Mari years before. "You were always so talented. You could make anything. A picture frame. My coffee table welded with license plates. Art on people's skin. What happens to all of that potential now?"

"Gee, thanks. Good to know what my eulogy would sound like. I am alive, baby bro."

"I know that."

"Do you? Because you sound like you're more in mourning over my shop than I am."

Water sloshed over his vision, and Yuuri couldn't keep himself from feeling like he was ruining something. Tearing that photo to bits even as it sat protected in its frame where even flames couldn't reach. "How am I supposed to live with myself when you're… you're…"

"No. I made a choice." Mari came up beside him, rested a hip on the corner, staring Yuuri down. He couldn't meet her eyes. "My own choice. And nothing really changed. I still have all of my godly potential. I'll be the best damn inn owner the world has ever seen. And between you and me, I'm going to keep doing tattoos. I'm still negotiating with mom and dad, but I think it will make a unique addition to the business and bring in more clientele. Just watch."

Yuuri stared at Mari, hard, tears turning from a trickle to a fierce downpour. He wasn't ruining Mari's life. Mari, the sister that gave up everything for him time and time again. He hadn't realized how much of a weight this had been on his chest until it had been decimated by the straightforward honesty he could always expect from his dear sister.

"So get married. No regrets. No mourning necessary."

Yuuri pulled her in, holding her in his arms, knowing with absolute certainty that there was nothing that could break their bond.

"Erm, I… can come back," Phichit offered, his head poking awkwardly through the door.

"Nonsense." Yuuri sniffed, reaching up to wipe at his eyes with his sleeve before Mari stopped him with a cloth. Right. His tuxedo. "How is everyone doing? Everything almost ready?"

Phichit entered, softly shutting the door behind him. "Sara was babbling incoherently for a while, but she puked so she's back. Mila and Michele are fixing her makeup."

"She's drinking already?"

"She's really happy for you." Phichit beamed, seeming to take Yuuri in with a long look. "We all are."

Yuuri handed Mari back the cloth. She narrowed her eyes, closing in on him to dab at the rims of his eyelids as she ranted, "I can't get mom out of the kitchen. She's determined to make all of the food."

Phichit snickered at the two siblings, Yuuri sticking his tongue out at him as Mari threw the cloth in his direction. It made it halfway before flopping uselessly onto the carpet. "It's Viktor's mom that I'm worried about. She's complaining about everything. Viktor says to get her drunk and she'll be nicer. I'm not sure that I believe him."

Mari tapped a finger on her nose. "It will be interesting to see her and dad together."

"Crap," Yuuri groaned. "He doesn't need any encouragement."

"And yet I can see a drinking contest starting already," Mari gazed toward the ceiling, as if staring into her very own thought bubble.

Yuuri cringed at his own premonition. "How's everyone else?"

"The demons are running around, recording and hashtagging everything," Mari said, adjusting the strap of her dress on her shoulder with a snap. "Takeshi is trying to round them up while Yuuko and Ketty finish getting ready. By the way, did you invite that Emil guy? Because he's here, too."

Yuuri nodded. "He and Michele have gotten oddly close. It didn't feel right to not invite him."

"Otabek and Leo are preoccupied with the music and setting up the livestream." Phichit walked over to the window, sneaking a peek around the curtain. "Minami and Guang-Hong are providing support. Seung-gil is dog sitting. I think Georgi tried to help, but Suk started growling at him, so he left to check on Ketty. Clara and her parents just got here. Ciao Ciao is chatting them up. Chet is here. Guess who he brought as a date." Phichit bounced his eyebrows and gaveg Yuuri an approximate five seconds to answer. "Yup. Ava. Guess it all sunk in. Oh! I finally got to meet the elusive Mr. Minako."

"Mr. Minako," Yuuri snorted. "Yeah. I saw him earlier. Kind of weird to meet him on my wedding day, but better late than never."

"So many couples." Phichit quirked his lips to the side, the sun shadowing his unusually dark eyes. "I know that that's the hope for weddings but… even Viktor's dad brought a plus one. I couldn't understand a word she said, but she seems nice."

"Gilly propose yet?" Mari asked.

The curtain slipped from Phichit's fingers, his neck creaking in their direction, lips guppying. "Of course not! I don't- We couldn't-"

"You've been together long enough."

Phichit glared. "He would kill you for calling him that."

"I'll be sure to keep saying it then. Especially when I ask him the same question."

Phichit deflated, resigned. "Chris is still expected to arrive and Ciao Ciao said that Aline is on her way. Your aunt…" Phichit paused, floundering as his eyes raced from Yuuri to Mari and back, "they, erm, they couldn't make it."

"Poison to the core, huh?" Mari muttered behind the bite of her teeth.

"It's alright, Mari." Yuuri gestured toward their father's desk. There was more than just a picture of Yuuri and Mari now. There was a framed picture of Yuuri and his bakery family. One was of Mari working in her tattoo parlor along with one of her on the parlor's couch with Yuri and Otabek. She was cackling, shoving Yuri into Otabek's lap with her foot on his back. Yuuko and Takeshi's wedding picture was below those, her belly big enough to pop. There was a Katsuki family picture from before the fire, and a renewed one that they had taken a handful of months before, Viktor a welcome addition at Yuuri's side with Vicchan curled in Yuuri's arms and Viktor holding Makkachin up as she stood on her back paws. "We've got more family than we know what to do with now."

Surprise tilted Mari's brows. She took in each photo and a smile crested her face. He could guess her thoughts, felt them like they were his own.

It had been just the two of them for so long.

A thought popped through Yuuri's reminiscence. "What about- No, never mind. That might be too much to hope for."

"Yakov and Yuri?" Phichit guessed with a flick to his nose.

"Is it that obvious?"

"You didn't hear Yurio's whines from in here?"

A smile twitched to Yuuri's cheeks. "Good," Yuuri nodded, fingers twitching along the seams of his tux sleeves. "Good."

"I don't know why you put up with that jack ass." Phichit began, walking toward the door.

"He's family."

Phichit stopped, seemed to find the door fascinating, or perhaps the milky looking figures moving beyond the shoji paper. "I guess so."

"We'll see you in a bit, Yuuri," Mari's hand made it halfway to his hair, before it stopped, "Whoops. Wouldn't want to mess up your carefully crafted hair style. Sara or Viktor might bite me."

Yuuri took that hand and placed it on his head. "Ruffle away. I'll protect you."

"That'll be the day."

The door closed and Yuuri was alone again.

The song beyond the window changed. It was lively enough to burst through, a cello and a violin playing together, riffing off of each other in some sort of mischievous battle that spirited the audience into playing along as feet stomped and hands clapped. Yuuri felt his own body bopping to the music, smiling as he opened the window back up to watch his friends and family, old and new, enjoying themselves at the call of the band. Ketty joined in, picking up an acoustic guitar and strumming along as the drummer began to pull the different threads of instruments and sounds into a cohesive song. Mila snatched Yuri's hand, dragged him into the middle of the grass. They began dancing even as Yuri cursed through his teeth. Minako pulled Senshiro along, the man protesting mildly, almost for show, then he nabbed Minako's hand and swung her into spin only Minako could pull off between clumps of grass in six inch pumps. Sara locked arms with Emil and Michele, the three joining in the center. Dmitry and Yulia clapped off to the side.

"Leo thought it would be a good idea to get everyone dancing. Hype them up. Or so he said."

Viktor.

Yuuri's heart leapt as Viktor's voice joined the room. Viktor walked up behind Yuuri, brushed the cappuccino-colored curtain aside and gazed out. That earlier panic that had Yuuri's mind spinning like a ball of yarn coming undone rolled back up inside of him, evaporated like a mirage that had never existed. There was nothing but certainty in Viktor's expression, and Yuuri absorbed it, standing with absolute confidence beside Viktor, right where he was supposed to be. That thought beat along with Yuuri's heart, and he felt something magical and mystical like snow falling from a cloudless sky.

Those ocean eyes, that could take Yuuri anywhere, shared Yuuri's view. Yuuri couldn't help but wonder if Viktor looked out with wanting eyes. "Was it selfish of me to have our wedding here?" Yu-Topia was a shack compared to some of the venues Chris had suggested. It was a closed ceremony, known only to the people that they both cherished. "I feel like I'm taking you away from the world and putting you in this box all for myself."

"That… sounds like a fantastic idea."

"I should have known you would say that."

"No, Yuuri. This is…" Viktor swiped his hand along the windowsill, collecting the dust of a life Yuuri never knew he could have. "Being in your home with our family is the only thing that you asked for. You let me plan everything. How is that selfish?"

Yuuri looked down, at polished shoes that Sara had spent what felt like an hour on. There was a scuff now, from Yuuri's nervous shuffling.

"I am not the world's property. You taught me that." Viktor nuzzled his nose against Yuuri's, hands folding into one another's. "I don't want the world. I just want you." Viktor looked deep, deep into Yuuri's eyes. Yuuri stared back, laser-focused, seeing every spark and freckle of color within Viktor's shimmering irises. "Besides, we're buying a house, our very own home, and I'm getting to marry the baking world champion-"

"-I'm not a world champion."

"Yet, but you've won everything else anyway," Viktor finished, squeezing Yuuri's fingers, knuckles locked tight. "I have the world right here in my hands."

"I love you," Yuuri said, because it was all he could say, a sum of his feelings in that moment.

In every moment.

"Everyone's here to help us take this final step," Viktor said, gaze bouncing from person to person outside, and it was like Yuuri could read his mind. Everyone. They had both become accustomed to shouldering their own burdens, hanging on to the shards of their tiny, fractured families. Now they had everyone. Everyone they would ever need.

"There's nothing final about this."

Viktor stepped towards the door, cupping Yuuri's fingers in his hold. "You ready?"

A fleeting thought crossed Yuuri's mind, floating by like a lost dandelion on the wind. What would have happened had Yuuri never left home? Would he still be standing here now, waiting to marry the only man he could ever love?

The answer was as certain as Yuuri's step forward.

"For anything."