Katsuki Yuuri is 22 and in college and disgustingly in love with Viktor Nikiforov, his boyfriend of two years.
They have a one-year-old puppy named Makkachin, whom they got from the breeder as soon as he was fully weaned.
They live together in a gorgeous 2-bedroom apartment - with huge bay windows and what is technically a guest room, but which they’ve been calling “Phichit’s room” for as long as they’ve been living there, for how often the Thai boy stays over. Sometimes, Chris stays there too, when he’s in the country, and Phichit will complain for weeks afterwards that nothing is where he left it and someone has been rummaging in his personal belongings. (Yuuri and Viktor have long since given up questioning why he even keeps his personal belongings in their guestroom).
Viktor is a successful, best-selling author who insists on travelling to the places his books are set in the interest of accuracy even when the setting has next to nothing to do with the plot, because he’s just extra like that.
Yuuri and Makkachin travel with him whenever they can, but being a college student doesn’t give you that much free time, so most often Yuuri has to stay at home, or come home early. He doesn’t mind too much. He’s never actually alone for more than a few days at a time anyways (again, Phichit crashes at their place a lot).
They’re happy and disgustingly adorable and #couplegoals for literally everyone.
And then…they break up. And neither of them will say why. All anyone knows is that it started with a tiny little argument, and spiralled quickly into something monstrous and devastating.
And within the month, Yuuri moves out of his gorgeous 2-bedroom apartment with the huge bay windows and the guest room that they used to call Phichit’s room.
He leaves behind the boyfriend he was disgustingly in love with, and the puppy that whines pitifully after him, scratching at the door and begging to be let out.
He’s done uni by then, and so is Phichit. They have nothing left to tie them to that city, and because Phichit is beautiful and perfect and a way better best friend than Yuuri deserves, he convinces Yuuri to move with him across the country, to sunny beaches and towering palms, to a place as far away from home as they can possibly get, while staying in the same country.
And Viktor? He’s left behind in a too big apartment, with a heartbroken puppy that lies listlessly on Yuuri’s side of the bed and can only fall asleep when listening to Yuuri’s breathless laughter through old vacation videos on Viktor’s laptop.
Once their lease is up, Viktor decides to move back home to Russia, to parents who hug him tightly when they see him standing miserable and tired on their doorstep, and a little brother who barely recognizes him without his ex
boyfriend attached to his hip.
He keeps writing his books (tragedies now, instead of the romance his fans have grown to expect from him), even sells his movie rights to some of them, and Makkachin starts running and playing again, tongue lolling happily out of his mouth and bouncing with excitement whenever Yura mentions the beloved “w” word. These days, Viktor always takes him travelling with him, ever since Makkachin got sick with anxiety the first time Viktor left him behind at his parents’ home for a week.
And meanwhile, Yuuri learns to live with a gaping hole in his chest where his heart used to be, so painful some days he can barely breathe.
Phichit is with him every step of the way, his partner-in-crime, his brother in all but blood, his platonic soulmate. (It’s a warm and sticky summer night when they lie on a sandy beach and listen to the waves lapping quietly at their bare toes, and they promise each other that if neither of them are married by forty, they’ll just marry each other. It’s not exactly what Yuuri had wanted from his future, but it still makes him clutch at his stomach in breathless laughter when Phichit suggests it.)
Viktor had always been the author out of the two of them, the one that knew how to string words in just the right order to paint a vivid picture in the minds of his readers.
But Yuuri isn’t too bad at it himself, he thinks. He decides to give it a try.
He paints a story of a clumsy couple, charmingly naive, so in love, so perfectly imperfect. He paints a story of a couple that bickers and banters, fights and then makes up with whispered apologies and warm cuddles. He writes about a couple that fights and makes up, fights and makes up, fights and makes up until…quite suddenly…they don’t.
He writes about the couple that goes their separate ways. A couple that is too young, too inexperienced for this thing they have between them, this thing that’s so huge, so important, so beautiful, they’re both afraid to lose it, so they throw it away themselves.
And then, just because he wants to give them the one thing he’d long given up hope for, he ends their story with a question.
(Can we give this a second chance?)
Katsuki Yuuri is 26, and disgustingly in love with Viktor Nikiforov, the boy he broke up with three and a half years ago.
He has a cute little 2-year-old toy poodle named Vicchan, whom his roommate, his platonic soulmate (
his potential fiancé?) had given to him as a present to get over his broken heart.
They live together in a cozy little 1-bedroom apartment just ten minutes away from the beach, with a sofa-bed that their friends, Guang-Hong and Leo, like to crash on sometimes when they’re in the middle of another lovers’ quarrel.
Yuuri is a best-selling author, with his one-hit wonder, On My Love, garnering international attention and countless desperate requests for a sequel.
Yuuri likes to take Vicchan for walks along the beach early in the morning, just as the sun is beginning to peek above the horizon and paint the sky in soft pinks and dazzling oranges.
They’re taking a break one day, with Vicchan splashing in the shallows a few feet away, when Yuuri is suddenly bowled over by a whining, panting, standard sized poodle, all soft brown fur and sloppy kisses.
He can barely breathe around the desperate affection, and not even Vicchan’s excited, curious yapping is enough to distract the ecstatic giant furball from his reunion with his long-lost and sorely missed human.
As soon as Yuuri can breathe again, fingers curled into his beautiful older puppy’s fur, he looks up, and his heart clenches at the sight of the Russian man standing a few feet away, a familiar paperback clutched to his chest with white-knuckled hands.
He still wears his heart on his sleeve.
A question tumbles out of his mouth.
And in that moment, Yuuri knows to start his next book with an answer.