After the whole crying fest that had occurred, Johnny had fallen back asleep, physically exhausted, but emotionally and mentally relieved beyond measure.
This had never happened before, but it already felt like the most natural thing in the whole world.
It was like the universe had deprived him of everything good for so long only to let it all flow into his life at once.
He could feel it through the bond: his soulmate was the most caring being ever. A mellow heart made of gold, not even sculpted because it felt like it was put together by flowing ichor from the blood of the gods themselves.
His soulmate was precious. And loving. And caring.
Afraid that Johnny would hurt him, because his soulmate happened to be someone wanted by the public.
He had been looking for him for months, for all the wrong reasons.
How could the universe be so cruel? Why?
What had either one of them done to deserve this?
Johnny recalled the feelings of anguish and despair he had been sent.
This is not the heart of a killer, he yelled internally, exasperated with what has happened.
How had a soulmate like his ended up doing the things he has done? None of it seemed to add up, but he wanted to help.
He wanted to understand, or at least try to.
Why would someone suffering because of their own actions continue to do them even when they bring themselves so much pain and loss?
Did his soulmate have no one to care for? Or was he distanced from his friends and relatives, just like Johnny had because of his job?
Look at me, I’m insane. It’s only been this long and I’m already throwing away my life’s work in order to help out someone the universe has decreed as the love of my life, he complained to himself, but not quite as bitterly as he might have expected it to seem, and that, too, surprised him.
He knew it was irrational. He hadn’t even met this person, but he was already intrigued beyond his wits.
He could think of nothing and no one else, and he definitely didn’t want to.
He was more than willing to ignore the mark before, but now that he’s shared these emotions - now that he’s felt what his soulmate feels - he can no longer deny his yearning.
He wanted to understand, and he was going to.
The universe has finally given him someone to love. Someone to care about and someone to also care about him.
He was not going to let them go.
Grabbing his pen, he wrote down a note on a clear spot on the arm that showed his soulmate band.
Does anybody know what you look like?
He waited for an answer, his leg bouncing up and down nervously. What if he stands him up?
No, they don’t. Why? came the reply.
Coffee at 5? Johnny asked as he wrote the address to his favorite coffee shop.
His soulmate immediately sent him a wave of uneasiness and fear at the idea, which Johnny impulsively responded with his own wave of comfort and warmth.
He waited a few minutes, his heart in his throat, when he saw his soulmate slowly etch a steaming coffee cup with a smiley face on the lid.
That was probably the highlight of Johnny’s entire life.
He looked over at the clock only to realize he had exactly one hour and twelve minutes left to get to the coffee shop, and he bolted off the floor and into the shower, groaning when he saw the dark circles under his reflected eyes when he passed the mirror.
He’s going to think I’m Dracula, he whined, scrubbing his skin hard as the ink they’d been marking themselves with slowly faded away.
He wouldn’t admit it, but he took twice the amount of time styling his hair in the mirror, although it still fell perfectly and looked exactly the same as it always did.
By the time he hauled ass and got to the cafe, Johnny was already fifteen minutes late.
He walked into the shop, nervous enough to hear his heart pounding in his ears, when his eyes fell on the most beautiful human being he had ever laid eyes on, and his breath hitched in his throat.
Please be him, he pleaded as his heart lurched.
Before him sat an angel. He was busy with something on the table, and his eyebrows were scrunched as he tried to concentrate, his perfectly soft lips slightly parted as his tongue stuck out and prodded at his beautiful mouth.
His raven black locks fell haphazardly on his face, but glamorously so, and his poise and body looked like he could be an athlete under the baggy clothes that could try but only fail at hiding his magnificent physique.
His eyes dropped to the boy’s hands, and they looked so fragile. So delicate. So peaceful as they moved while the boy finished off something with a few lazy strokes. All Johnny could think of was holding those hands and pressing his lips to every knuckle on every finger, worshipping them.
He took a step closer, and he realized that the ethereal boy wearing the cutest pair of glasses he had ever seen was doodling something on the palm of his hand.
Johnny looked over to his own, his breathing ragged and brain reeling and desperate.
And it was there.
A new but adorable sketch of a clock with a face that seemed to look like it was lonely, and all Johnny could do was let the bubble of anxious laughter go, drawing the attention of the younger man, whose head snapped up towards the sound of the most beautiful melody he’d ever had the privilege to hear.
Johnny smiled, hoping he wouldn’t cry, and took a seat across from the angel.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” he started shakily, reaching across the table to take the man’s hand in his own larger ones.
Summary: Victor comes down with the flu and is a fevered and miserable mess. Yuuri takes care of him until he gets better.
Set post-season 1. There will be no emeto because that squicks me tf out, even in fiction, but there is complaints of mild stomach issues and a bit of anxiety around that. It all turns out okay though, I promise! There will also be fevered dreams, all centred around Victor’s pov.
Choosing flu over cold because I’ve heard people say it comes on more quickly. Plus, cold is more prominent in fanfic (from what I’ve seen) so I thought this might be more refreshing.