49) things you said when we were 18
“I think we’re on top of the world.”
Yuuri’s arms are tight around his knees as he watches Victor stand on the edge of the rooftop, looking out over the city. There’s a red backpack slung over one of his shoulders and he has never looked more alive—reflected gold dancing across his blue irises and entwining with the familiar mirth that is ever-present. He reaches one hand forward, out over the edge, and turns it back and forth, letting the cold slip against it and nip at it.
When he turns back to look at Yuuri, the curious smile that had already been playing on his lips breaks out into something bigger, and he steps closer, getting down onto his knees so that he has sunk to his level. A hand slips into Yuuri’s hair, cradling the back of his head, and Yuuri wonders how he’d become friends with not just the most popular boy in school but a demigod, a being so beautiful and enrapturing that there truly is no other explanation.
“Don’t you think?” Victor breathes, and everything from his flushed cheeks to the stray thread on his shirt is begging, pleading with Yuuri to believe him. And it’s working, Yuuri’s heart lightening and a rush working its way through his very veins. “Don’t you think that we’re on top of the world?”
Yuuri nods shyly.
Victor sits down beside him and takes his hand, fingers slipping out of his hair. His backpack swings, lightly bouncing against Yuuri’s side. “Come on. Can’t you feel it? Like it’s electric. Like we’re electric. You have to know what I’m talking about.”
With his free hand, Yuuri reaches up to touch Victor’s cheek, and sure enough, it’s electric, he’s electric, they’re electric, charged from nerve to nerve, lit from their skin to their blazing hearts. He can feel it all over, now, if he tries—knows what he’s talking about, loves that this is shared between them. Victor watches him intently, and his bright, enthusiastic smile melts into something softer, something all-consuming.
“Kiss me,” Yuuri asks, and so Victor does.