Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/10822734.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Yuri!!!_on_Ice_(Anime)
  Relationship:
      Otabek_Altin/Yuri_Plisetsky
  Character:
      Yuri_Plisetsky, Otabek_Altin, Otabek_Altin's_Family, Original_Characters
  Additional Tags:
      Attempted_Murder, Prostitution, Running_Away, Road_Trips, Crimes_&
      Criminals, Organized_Crime, Alternate_Universe
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-05-04 Chapters: 1/? Words: 11107
****** halfway to anywhere ******
by waltz_(choke)
Summary
     "Your parents are still on vacation, right?"
     "They're not due back for another week."
     "And your sister won't stop by?"
     "Probably not. She's busy with university."
     He exhales shakily. "Come pick me up. Don't tell anyone, just come
     here and take me there. I'll explain in the car."
Notes
     Takes place in a fictional country that's similar to Russia but not
     actually Russia.
     I have a tumblr: http://bombcase.tumblr.com/
     Feedback appreciated! Thank you.
Late at night. The sweltering summer humidity and a cold sweat on his back.
It's dark and quiet, the crickets and traffic on major street a few roads down
the only faint noise while the streetlamps' bulbs flicker. Yuri doesn't dare
linger. He's getting further and further away from the places people like him
tend to hang out, and he's sure he's all the more conspicuous for it. Never
mind that the neighborhood is small, run down family homes-- never mind that
it's a school night and the people living here aren't likely to even be awake.
The streets are totally empty. It's completely irrational but all Yuri knows is
that the fear of being found creeps up on him and breathes on his neck like a
monster in the dark. He can't be found. Anything but that.
So he walks.
Breath ragged with panic and eyes wild and even still bleeding, he walks.
That stifling feeling either fades or rises to something a lot more like calm
or more like detachment. With every step his pace sags and slows. Is it the
splitting pain in his head? Or is it the creeping realization that there's
nothing he can do like this? Alone and injured and broke? The repercussions of
tonight are a complete mystery to him. But the tremor reaching him is
inevitable. Collapse is immient. It's just a matter of if he gets caught in the
rubble or not. It's just a matter of if he can claw himself out. Nothing before
this matters; it doesn't matter if he was the favorite, the big earner among
the other boys. None of that is going to protect him. So he takes a shuddering
breath and forces himself to think logically.
The law has never been able to help him. He's the one taking care of his
remaining family. And his friends at the brothel won't be his friends anymore
after this, if they ever were. The one door available to him is one he's kept
locked for most of his life. It might be that he has no choice but but to
finally take out the key. Because as much as Yuri's pride means to him and as
little as he wants this one unconnected relationship to become tainted... he
doesn't want to die. Selfishly, callously and even if it means putting him in
danger, he'll drag Otabek into all of this. Because he doesn't want to die and
he might end up being the only reason he doesn't. Yuri has no other option.
With his phone in his shaking hands, his vision blurs as he makes out the name
in his contact list. Dialing seems difficult; his fingers feel numb. He's
motionless after the number is keyed in. But all it takes to make him really
hit the call button is the sudden rush of fear he feels at a passing car.
Otabek doesn't pick up.
It makes sense. It's past midnight and Yuri knows he works early tomorrow-- it
might be his last day there, but his friend wouldn't ever shirk a
responsibility even by being late. He's sleeping just like he should be.
Unfortunately, Yuri needs to wake him up. He doesn't particularly care if he's
got work tomorrow. He doesn't call on favors often and neither does Otabek but
he knows very well that his friend would jump at the chance to help him out
when it really matters. He's just that kind of person. So Yuri doesn't feel
even a tinge of guilt as he calls again and again, only a rising panic that he
won't pick up at all.
But he isn't let down. Of course he isn't-- not by Otabek.
When he answers, he certainly sounds like he's been woken up. "I'm sorry I
didn't hear right away. I was asleep. Did something happen, Yura?" He doesn't
sound irritated despite how to-the-point he is, just a little sleepy and
definitely concerned.
"Yeah," Yuri starts. "Your parents are still on vacation, right?"
"They're not due back for another week."
"And your sister won't stop by?"
"Probably not. She's busy with university."
He exhales shakily. "Come pick me up. Don't tell anyone, just come here and
take me there. I'll explain in the car."
Yuri feeds him an address and Otabek goes quiet. "What are you doing in that
end of town this late...? It'll take a while to get there." He's walking again,
surprised at how sore his body is now that he's had time to settle in with the
damage but heading to the place he'd mentioned. It's not far away from where he
is now, so he'll definitely get there first.
"If it's gonna take a while, don't waste time talking, get moving."
Though Yuri snaps at him, he knows from the sounds on the other end of the line
that Otabek is already on the move. He can hear the wind and his creaky front
door closing-- even before Yuri asked him to come pick him up, he was preparing
in case he did. He's not wasting time. "... I'm on my way. I'll talk to you
there."
Simple as that, he hangs up. All there is left to do is get there and wait.
--- --- ---
As Yuri sits on the small church's front steps waiting for Otabek, he realizes
that this is the first time he'll see him dressed like this.
Of course it's a humiliating thought, but right now Yuri regards it only with a
dim sort of disappointment. With a sense of dread. Because he knows very well
that his legs are as fucked up as his face must be and the shorts expose that
completely. Because it's not going to be hard to guess what he's doing around
here at this time of night dressed like this and because it'll be easier still
to guess what happened to him. Since they became friends a few years ago, Yuri
has been very careful. He keeps his school life and his work seperate for more
than the reasons of it being fucking illegal. He likes to have time where he
feels ordinary. He likes going to school because even if it's just for a little
while, he has respite from the casual brutality that is prostitution. He likes
to not think about how miserable he is.
Finally making a friend in Otabek finally completed the illusion of a regular
life. They'd eat lunch together every day and smoke across the street at break.
They'd hang out after class was done for the day and they'd talk endlessly
about everything they liked, what they wanted from the future. He was a bit
older but not enough that there was anything unequal between them. He was cool
but gentle and kind and well liked. Otabek was his opposite in so many ways-
- he was perfect. So Yuri didn't want to ruin him or what they had, the
picturesque friendship he's always wanted but could never find before him. If
he leaned on him too much-- if Otabek found out about the real scope and
magnitude of his problems-- there would be no going back to that. He wouldn't
think of Yuri the same way, even if he's sure by now that he wouldn't outright
abandon him. Maybe he'd pity him or maybe he'd worry. He's not sure what
exactly would change other than to say that things definitely would. And though
it makes him happy to have someone who would care other than his mother, Yuri
doesn't actually want him to do any of that.
Because ultimately all of these feelings stem from one simple fact: he's
ashamed.
So even before Otabek arrives, Yuri decides he'll only tell him as much as is
absolutely necessary. He'll dodge questions, omit truths, and outright lie if
he has to. There's truth in the fact that what happened tonight could really
put him in danger, so he decides it's all to protect his best and only friend.
If he doesn't know anything, wouldn't it be easier? But he knows he'll have to
bullshit. As the car pulls up he thinks to himself that Otabek probably won't
accept wishy-washy answers when he sees him like this. Yuri scrambles to get
into the passenger seat with energy he didn't know he had, settling in with a
heavy sigh of relief. Otabek says nothing and Yuri knows even before looking at
him that it's pure shock. The stun lasts just a moment before his hands are
fumbling with the inside light, switching it on to get a better look at him.
Instead of looking back at him, Yuri drums his fingers against his leg.
"Yura," he hears. The emotion in his friend's voice now is more than he's ever
heard from him. He's absolutely horrified and the sound makes him cringe. With
light on him properly, even he's realizing just how bad the damage really is.
Though they were dark in the dim light and he was sure they didn't look good,
he can now define the swirls of color. Black to blue to purple to yellow, stark
against his pale skin, dotting his legs like freckles, like birthmarks. The
blunt force trauma site of being struck with a cane against his calves, the
tell-tale purple handprint on his thigh. Slowly, head throbbing, he realizes
that Otabek is probably going to want to take him to the hospital. "What
happened to you?"
After all, he's pretty sure he has a concussion. "A lot of shit did." He knows
his head was bleeding. Somewhere in his scalp, close enough to his hairline
that he kept having to wipe it away from his forehead. He wishes they'd get
going rather than just sitting in the car like this.
"I'll drive us to the hospital right now." He was just thinking it'd come up
but the threat scares him anyway. Turning to look at him, Yuri places his hand
over his on the shift stick. Even his knuckles are scuffed up and his hands are
smeared with blood. Otabek's face is openly worried. Soft but a little afraid.
Not pitying, just concerned. Looking at him finally sends a surge of guilt
through him, but Yuri doesn't turn away even as Otabek reaches out to brush his
hair away from his eyes, getting a better idea of exactly how bad it is.
"You can't. They'll want to talk to my mom." His hair really was obscuring the
worst of it. "They'll want to know exactly how it happened." He hasn't seen
himself for a while. It wasn't swollen up like this before. He'd only seen the
forming bruises and the blood in the hotel mirror when everything went quiet,
and he hadn't exactly stopped to get a good look. "And that'll escalate. They
can take me away any time up until I'm eighteen. Do you want to never see me
again?" The light is too bright.
Otabek is silent. This is the most overt Yuri has ever been; he's never
admitted anything even similar. It's obvious that Otabek has long suspected his
home life wasn't good; he asks too many questions to not be wondering. And
besides, Yuri has shown up to school with bruises before, just never on his
face. Never like this. So this and what he says is a dreadful confirmation of
what he's sure is the worst case in his friend's mind-- that something truly
isn't right at home. "You didn't hit your head?"
"I didn't." He did. He did and it hurts more than anything he's experienced in
his life. His hand stays over Otabek's, and he squeezes. He tries to reassure
him with a smile. "I'll be fine. I'm not going to die." Not from this.
"... I'll take you home." He puts the car into gear and takes his hand, even as
he turns away to watch the road as he pulls away from the church. Yuri has
never felt more relieved. With the car in motion, the sense of unease abates.
No one will find him. He might be safe. "Will you tell me what happened?"
"I can't tell you everything," Yuri says mildly, reaching up to turn off the
light and looking out the window. He doesn't let go of Otabek's hand.
"Why not?"
He pauses. "... You could get in trouble."
Otabek doesn't say anything. He's clearly thinking. Putting the pieces
together. Yuri wishes he wouldn't. "Will I get in trouble for helping you?"
The guilt he'd felt when he'd looked at him and seen fear returns. "Yes." He
answers honestly. If he can't tell him everything, he'll tell him this much.
"But not if you just let me sleep at your place tonight."
"Tell me what you can." Otabek's voice is calm and quiet. The warmth of his
hand is comforting.
Yuri closes his eyes and takes a breath, thinking. He knew even before he
called what he'd say, and it's time to say it now. It's time to make a plan.
"You're still going on your trip, right?"
"I can cancel it if I need to," without missing a beat, Otabek tells him this.
He can hear the turn signal clicking and the car slows before going around a
corner. "If you need me."
"Take me with you." He feels like his headache is getting worse, and his
stomach turns.
There isn't any hesitation with what he says next. "What will happen to me if I
do? Will my family be safe?"
It's a fair question, so Yuri is honest. "I don't know exactly. You could get
hurt. They won't care about your family. But I need to get out of here. The
city's too small, Beka, I need to leave."
Otabek is quiet, thoughtful. He's trying to choose the right words. "You can't
tell me who 'they' are."
"I can't."
"Did you commit a crime?"
Yuri says nothing.
"I won't abandon you."
He believes him, but he can't.
"It's better you don't know."
He seems to understand what he's getting at and Yuri has never been more
grateful for anything in his life. "... Alright. I'll take you with me. Do you
need anything from your house?"
"... Yeah. I should get some stuff. Can we go now?" It might not be safe to do
it later. Glancing at the clock, he wonders if it's possible no one even knows
yet-- the check in time hasn't yet passed.
"Of course. But I'd like to clean you up when we get there."
Yuri has no objections to that. So the car slows and stops and turns around.
The streets get more and more familiar. Otabek is silent and Yuri has no more
distraction from the pounding between his eyes, the ache in each of his limbs.
The nausea is getting worse and worse. All of it hurts more now than it did
when it happened. But the house comes into view and soon enough they're out of
the car and up the front steps. His mother isn't home-- she probably won't be
home from the brothel until morning. It works for him. It's definitely better
that he doesn't see her right now. But he can't help but feel a little sad.
Once inside, Yuri shucks off his gaudy, faux fur coat and gets the first aid
kit. With a doctor for a mother, his friend has picked up a lot of basic first
aid. Yuri sits at one of the kitchen stools and lets Otabek examine him. His
hands and knees are bloody; he wipes them clean. His knuckles are banged up; he
disinfects them. The skin of his forearm is split and bleeding; he bandages
them. He takes special care with his face, touch especially gentle, eyes
especially soft. He brushes Yuri's hair away and he cleans the blood off his
face. He cleans and dresses the scrapes, carefully checks the cuts; he remarks
that the one in his hair shouldn't need stitches. He remarks that it's a
miracle he didn't break his nose. When it's done, he can tell Otabek is double
checking. Going over all the damage once again, taking inventory, committing it
to his memory.
Yuri supposes he must be satisfied with his work because he pulls him into his
arms next, holding him close but loose, not wanting to agitate any of the
bruises on his battered body. Being held like this, Yuri can't tell who it is
that's shaking-- if it's Otabek or himself. Being held like this, it hits him
clearly what exactly happened to him tonight. In his arms, Yuri is plagued by
doubt and fear. Is this the right thing to do? Was this really his only chance?
Will he die anyways, will he bring Otabek down with him? Would it have been
easier to have just accepted his lot in life and let himself be beaten to
death?
He wanted to live. That's all. Is that wrong?
Having nearly died, Yuri lets himself feel safe in Otabek's embrace.
Pathetically, he lets himself feel true relief at even this temporary feeling-
- when his eyes water he doesn't blink the tears away. He doesn't even try to
fight it. He just lets it come out. But even now, he doesn't wail. He cries
quietly, the most telling thing being the way he sniffs, the way his breath
comes in short puffs and gasps. Otabek pets his hair gently, careful to avoid
the cut, careful not to hurt him. He's reminded of his mother, and he wishes
that he could see her too. But it's better this way. He's got to disappear
before anyone notices.
"Nothing more will happen to you," he hears Otabek promise, his voice tight.
"I'll do everything to keep you safe. We'll figure this out together."
He can't manage to choke out a single word, so Yuri is silent as he weeps
senselessly. He clings to him gratefully until tiredness falls over him like a
quilt, until the tears dry up, until he feels his heartbeat slow down. His head
pulses. When he opens his eyes, the room is spinning. Gently pushing Otabek
back, he gets off the stool and immediately stoops over the sink. He vomits. He
doesn't realize it at first, but Otabek is quick to come over and hold his hair
away, quick to rub his back. He heaves and heaves and heaves and Yuri hopes
that Otabek doesn't realize it's his head that's bothering him. He hopes he
thinks it's something else.
Leaned over and panting, Otabek wipes off his mouth with a paper towel. It's
all done wordlessly. "Let me go get my stuff," he tells him. "We need to get
moving."
"You're sick, stay here. I'll pack your clothes and anything else you need."
Yuri can't argue with that. Otabek guides him to the living room where he sits
down on the couch and leans back. He listens as Otabek hurries upstairs,
waiting with the sound of his footsteps the only thing in the house. He doesn't
know how long it takes him, but he eventually comes down with his sports bag
stuffed full. He shoulders it and helps Yuri to his feet. As the two of them
head back out to the car, Otabek talks quietly. "I packed as much of your
clothes as I could. My plans for the trip take us further up north, and it can
be cold, so I took a jacket and your winter boots. Sneakers, because those
shoes aren't practical. Your phone charger and your toothbrush... I couldn't
find your laptop bag, but I packed that too."
"Did you find my money?" He sounds so sick. He's going to give himself away.
"... I think so. In the sock in your bedside drawer?" Yuri thinks he remembers
telling him about that before literal years ago, and he's surprised he
remembered.
"Yeah." He should leave it for his mom. She can't work much lately; tonight is
a rare occasion. He's been supporting them both. But it's his savings, all the
tips he's hidden from his pimp and squirreled away over the years, and he
thinks he might really need it. The pimp-- her boyfriend-- can take care of her
if she needs it. While he's sure Otabek would do the same for him, he doesn't
want him to.
They both fall quiet. With no traffic like this, it shouldn't take long. But
they have to pull over once on the way there. Yuri stumbles out the car and
throws up on the curb, too sick to care about even being seen, and Otabek is
again there to keep his hair out of his mouth. He loyally supports him without
a single complaint. And once his stomach settles for more than a moment they
take off again, the two of them holding hands the rest of the drive there.
--- --- ---
The sky is just beginning to get brighter as they finally pull into Otabek's
driveway. The slight touch of sunlight-- the stars fading with the night. Yuri
only notices it because he's sure someone has found out by now. The clock is
ticking and he realizes with a clarity among the swirling emotion and the
relentless pain that he has very limited time.
He throws up in Otabek's bathroom, not even making it to the toilet before he's
sick all over himself and the tile floor. His friend is there immediately,
guiding him as he goes senseless with nausea and pain. Every breath he takes
seems to send aftershocks throughout his whole body-- crouched down on his
bruised knees, not even staying motionless helps. He can't think straight; he
can't see straight; he can hardly even walk straight. He thinks that Otabek
carries him upstairs. He lays him on a bed and takes off his dirty shirt. He
sets him up with a bucket on the floor. All he has to do is lean over. And
finally, he gently-- so gently, so gingerly-- ties his hair back.
He seems to sit with him a long time. Blearily, Yuri watches him and he finds
that he can't quite make out his face. With the window directly behind them the
light just doesn't reach. Would he even be able to parse the expression on his
face if he could see it? Thinking that, he closes his eyes and lets him go on
stroking his hair, drawing comfort from at least that small thing. He must fall
asleep at some point. Maybe he just loses consciousness. It's a relief either
way it goes because there's nothing to worry about if he can't worry in the
first place. It's a respite that can't last.
When he opens his eyes next, the room is filled with natural light. He's alone.
His head hurts, but not as badly as before. The bucket is empty and it's quiet.
He hears nothing until slowly, gradually, like it's snuck up on him, he hears
the chirping of the birds outside the window. It's serene. He lays there
completely motionless and aches in almost every part of his body and breathes
and doesn't think at all. Is this what it means to be blank? Yuri doesn't even
think anything like that as he rests. As he wakes up, he hears more and more.
He hears a lawnmower far off. He hears children playing. He hears the rustle of
the leaves in the trees and shrubs on Otabek's front lawn and only then does it
distantly occur to him that he's not here. He'd have heard him. Must've gone to
work. Yuri doesn't worry about it, letting the calm wash over him, letting
himself take comfort in the warmth of the bedcovers and the faint smell he
knows is his best friend's. Outside, he hears traffic. Cars whir by. He hears
an engine start; he hears someone pull up and stop and slam the car door. He
thinks he can make out a woodpecker on the tree. He hears the crunch of gravel
as someone approaches the front door. Yuri breaks out in a cold sweat as panic
violently envelops him, eyes shooting open, the ceiling offering no answer or
solace. Something isn't right. It can't be Otabek. If he went to work, he's not
off for a while yet. Certainly not while the afternoon sun shines in through
the window.
He listens. He listens so closely it's like all senses but the throbbing in his
head disappear.
... Two. There's two people walking up the driveway right now. He feels his
breathing pick up and covers his mouth like they can hear him. He doesn't dare
peek out the window-- if they were to glance up here and see the blinds move,
that could be the end of it. No. Calm down. He doesn't know if there's anything
to worry about yet. Two people-- his parents? Don't cops tend to travel in
pairs? Nothing makes this easier to stand as he waits in suspense, wondering
what the two are going to do next. The two of them speak to one another and he
tries to make out the words. He can't. But his whole body seems to freeze ice
cold as recognition hits him. Yuri wants to deny it with everything he has. He
wants anything else to be true-- anything else at all.
As he continues to listen in, doubt leaves him. More and more it becomes clear
that somehow, somehow his pimp got ahold of this address. And now he's shown
up.
Though the initial knock is polite enough, they're quick to escalate to beating
on it, pounding on it like it's even possible for anyone inside to miss the
sound. The door doesn't open. He hears them fucking around with the knob from
outside and he feels like his heart might burst through his throat. Any second
now they're going to burst through the door. Any moment now they'll rush into
the house he thought was safe. They'll come up the stairs. They'll find him
tucked away in Otabek's room and... and then what? Will they beat him further?
Fuck him? Will they kill him outright? Yuri realizes that he needs to hide.
Before he can crawl out of bed, however, he also realizes that the knocking has
stopped. His heart nearly does too, but he realizes it's not because they've
got the door open-- a car door closes and the sound of crunching gravel signals
that someone else has shown up. Just one person.
It's Otabek.
He hears his voice, mild but concerned, and he hears the other guy say
something. His pimp speaks up next. They talk back and forth. Yuri is already
grieving. Already regretting everything. He should have taken whatever would
happen. He would have kept Otabek safe. He thinks of Otabek's mother and father
and how he's going to be the one who robbed them of their son. This was a
mistake beyond mistakes-- an oversight made in desperation, a blunder as he
panicked and thought only of himself. It's unforgivable. He rolls out of bed
and crawls along the floor, scared to be seen even with the blinds pulled
tight. He can't hear them anymore. He doesn't want to listen to them beat or
kill his friend. He doesn't want to hear the moment he sells him out. Out of
his mind with fear, Yuri pulls himself into the tiny closet and closes the
door.
Yuri is still only a sixteen year old boy. He wishes he could be brave but when
he's faced with what he considers to be the worst thing that could possibly
happen, he shuts down utterly.
He doesn't know how long he sits in the closet. It feels like an eternity. He
wishes his head would stop hurting. It makes it so much harder to think. It's
so cramped in here he feels like he can hardly breathe-- no matter how much he
gulps in air, he feels like he's still short. Every second is agonizing,
building to when everything goes to shit. It feels like only an instant before
that moment comes. The front door opens and closes. He hears footsteps. They go
up the stairs. Down the hall. Toward the room. He hears the knob turn and he
literally holds his breath. Completely silent. Still as a statue. This is it.
This is it. He waits for it to hit him, to drag him out kicking and screaming.
But it never does.
"Yura...?"
Otabek is still alive. He doesn't hear the sound he makes as he lets himself
breathe again but he knows he makes it. In a heartbeat the closet door is flung
open and Otabek is kneeling down in front of him, placing his hands on his
shoulders. Firmer than he'd ever want to do normally when Yuri is so bruised
up. But as he blinks away tears and his vision focuses, he realizes that Otabek
is clearly in no better state than he is. He's wild eyed with fear. The tremor
that runs through his whole body can be felt with just his hands. His hair is
disheveled and his clothing is askew. "Yura," he says, and his voice is heavy.
"Yura." He mutters his name like a prayer, unable to say anything else.
He's scared. Though the danger seems to be past, Yuri doesn't like this. Otabek
is supposed to be unshakable and right now he is fraying. "Did they hurt you?"
Otabek brings his hands to cup Yuri's face and looks into his eyes. He isn't
angry. There's nothing even like frustration in his expression. Only the rawest
kind of fear, only worry, only the sense that he's gotten in way over his head.
"Yura, what on earth did you do? They had guns."
Yuri comes closer, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and hanging on tight.
Otabek returns the embrace instantly. He's shaking all over. They both are.
"What happened? Tell me what they said."
"They asked if you were here." Otabek starts off sounding like he can't quite
believe that any of this is actually happening. It's that kind of frail voice.
But he pauses, gathering himself, holding Yuri tight. It hurts but he doesn't
complain. "... There were two of them. You know them?"
"I only recognized one voice. The guy with the gold front teeth."
"Alright." He feels him suck in a short breath and exhale long. "First, the
other one asked me if you were there. The man with the gold teeth said they had
business with you."
"Did you say?" It comes out in a panic. He blurts it out.
"No. No, Yura, they looked dangerous. They were armed. I meant it when I told
you that I'd do anything to keep you safe." He brings his hand to his head,
cradling him against his shoulder. "They grabbed me, but they didn't do
anything. I kept calm. I told them that you weren't here."
"You said they had guns."
"They did."
"How do you know?"
Otabek seems to hesitate. He doesn't want to say it. But eventually he does,
slow, voice especially calm. He doesn't want to scare Yuri. "Because they held
me at gunpoint. They tried to threaten me into telling. But I didn't."
"I'm sorry," he finds himself muttering. "I'm sorry. I didn't think they'd show
up. I've been careful. I've made sure to keep you out of everything, away from
everything. I don't know how they found you."
"I'm okay." He pulls out his ponytail and runs his fingers through his hair,
trying to soothe him, trying to stay calm. "You don't have to worry about it.
If I can help you, I'm happy to." Otabek whispers to him, sounding more genuine
about it than anything else he's ever said. He doesn't seem like he was just
threatened with a gun. He sounds brave. Strong. Yuri thinks of how his instinct
was to hide and leave him there to die. He thinks of how he wondered if Otabek
would sell him out. He's weak. How could someone straitlaced like Otabek keep
it together so well under that kind of insane pressure? When someone like Yuri,
someone who should be used to this kind of thing, ran and hid?
"How can you even say that?"
The hand in his hair lingers still a moment before moving on. "You're precious
to me. I've been waiting for you to come to me. I knew something was happening.
But I can't go where you don't want me." Though he doesn't do it overmuch,
Otabek does remind him often that he'll hear him out. It's true that he's quick
to offer help. It's just subtle. It's not trying to force him to do anything;
he doesn't think he knows better. It is a quiet acceptance of the walls his
friend has built up and a resolved trust that Yuri will come to him when he's
ready. "... But there is something I'd like you to tell me."
After all of this, Yuri feels like he owes him something. "Yeah?"
"If you can't tell me what happened," he starts evenly and calmly, voice
gentle. "I'd like to know how serious this is. What do you think those men want
from you?"
Though he's been coming up with countless scenarios, for a moment, he's unable
to speak. "... I think they want to take me away."
"Take you where?"
"To someone who probably wants me dead."
Otabek's grip tightens. "Will they try to track you down if you leave this
city?"
"I don't know. It's possible."
And then his hold on him loosens. Yuri sighs in relief, but worries all the
same. "Alright. They could be back at any time. I don't know how you're
feeling, but we can't stay here. I'll finish packing and we'll leave as soon as
I do."
They pull apart and look at one another a moment. Yuri wipes the tears off
Otabek's face and wonders how he kept his voice so steady; Otabek brushes his
hair behind his ear and helps him to his feet. In that moment, Yuri realizes
that he was right. Letting him in like this has changed everything. There's no
going back. But he knows that this doesn't just apply to their relationship-
- all of this has passed the point of no return. They know Otabek's face. They
know his home. This safe haven is just a temporary hiding place, easily
exposed, simple to smoke out. But even with everything changed and nothing
looking up, there is one hopeful thought in Yuri's mind.
He's not in this alone.
--- --- ---
True to his word, Otabek packs.
He moves so quickly doing so many things at once that if Yuri wanted to talk to
him, he wouldn't be able to get a word in. He does it all so efficiently that
he's completely ready in just under fifteen minutes. Otabek is double checking
their bags, counting things off on his fingers wordlessly, and muttering to
himself as he throws open the closet. It's mesmerizing. He's never seen Otabek
so focused before. He admires it just as much as it unnerves him and he watches
it all unfold with a dazed look of surprise on his face. Otabek is rifling
though some of the boxes on the floor of his closet, not caring for tidiness as
he searches for something.
"Here it is," he says finally. Turning around, Yuri sees that in his hands is a
wide brimmed hat. It’s a bit formal-- he recognizes it from the family photos
hanging in his living room. "I packed the sunglasses that were on your desk. If
people are looking for you, it'd be best to cover up as much as you can."
He takes it when Otabek offers it to him, expression soft. He's being so
thorough, so careful. Yuri certainly wasn't thinking about how to hide in plain
sight like this. He's thinking of everything, isn't he...? Where anyone else
might turn him over to the police, where anyone else would be right to do that,
Otabek doesn't hesitate. He takes the responsibility without complaint. He
understands the scope of the danger now-- he was threatened at gunpoint. But
regardless of any of that, the way he looks at him now is warm and
compassionate and determined. They'll get out of here. That's what that look
tells him. As Otabek fetches the sunglasses, he pulls the hat gingerly onto his
head, wary of reopening the cut. And when they're offered to him, he puts on
the glasses as well.
Tugged to his feet by the hand, Otabek picks up their bags and they head to the
entryway. "I'm going to make sure no one is around," he tells him, gesturing
for him to stand away from the door. He's outside for just a few minutes before
he's back, bags deposited into the trunk.
"Coast clear?" The thumbs up he gets in reply makes him grin for the first time
in what feels like forever.
Otabek smiles back. "Let's go."
However despite the almost normal feeling that fell over him, the second they
get into the car, an eerie silence replaces it. They don't pull out. He doesn't
even start the car. It’s scary in its suddenness and catches Yuri completely
off guard. Otabek drums his fingers on the steering wheel in a way that is
almost impatient and definitely anxious. "Yura," he starts, and he looks at the
locked front door. "I feel like there's something I'm missing. Did we forget
anything?"
"Huh? No way. You might've been fast, but... you grabbed everything we needed,
right? I saw you go through the bags at least twice."
"While you were sleeping, I cleaned up." His brow furrows in concentration. "I
made sure to leave everything immaculate."
Yuri isn't following. "Sorry that I puked on your floor..."
"No, that isn't it." Otabek sighs, runs a hand through his hair. Though he'd
been so steely before, he seems as vulnerable as anyone else in this moment. He
starts the engine and they pull out of the driveway. "Nevermind. It's fine.
Please don't worry about it. Even I shouldn't worry about it."
It's weird to hear him talk like this. It's scaring him if he's going to be
perfectly honest. He doesn't understand at all and he wants to know exactly
what Otabek is babbling about. But Yuri bites his tongue. He lets himself
believe that there's nothing, that it's silly, because his friend clearly
doesn't want to talk about it anymore. He's never been good with boundaries.
Yuri is always knocking them down at his leisure. But with everything that's
happened between them in these short few hours, he thinks he owes it to him to
not push anything. Even if it's a small thing like this.
"... So where are we going exactly?" Yuri had seen his initial plans, but he
knows Otabek has revamped them a few times as he did more research into the
kinds of things he’d need to worry about on a trip like this. It seems like a
good question to ask and a good way to shift the topic.
Otabek keeps both hands on the steering wheel. "Open up the glovebox." Yuri
obeys and inside are a few things. Papers, mostly. A phrasebook with a few
different languages. Stuff that looks legal. Is it car insurance shit...? He
doesn't really know; his mom has never owned a car. He shuffles through them
idly. "There's a map." Ah, there is. He unfolds the large paper and it's
immediately obvious why Otabek had him look. "We'll take the major roads I've
marked through a few different regions. There are a few cities in particular
I've always wanted to visit, but I don't know if sightseeing is a good idea."
“Probably not until we get further north,” he mutters in reply, scowling down
at the map. He ruined his plans completely. Yuri knows he has been planning
this a long time. “I guess I see why you were going to be gone the rest of
summer.”
“It’s fine.” As though reading his thoughts, Otabek regards him with a neutral
expression. He slowly looks back to the road and leaves it at that. “... This
might end up going longer than that.”
Yuri thinks about that a moment, dread sinking once again through him. With the
road ahead of them such a vast unknown, he could easily end up being right.
Will all of this extend into the beginning of the new school year? Will it
interfere with Otabek’s plans for university? Yuri doesn’t know because right
now it’s just as likely it won’t, for good or ill. “Yeah. It might.” His head
hurts and he finds himself simply hoping they’re alive to see the seasons
change.
A silence spreads between them, seeming like a stain. It all really seems to
settle over the interior of the car, coating everything with a fine layer of
unease. They both know that there’s no turning back now. But Yuri still wishes
he could invite him to back out. He wishes he was able to extend that gesture
to him. Not because he wants him to go but because it’d mean things hadn’t
escalated so quickly. He really did think they’d have the day or two until
Otabek had planned on taking off originally.
They pass through the town they both grew up in, taking in the familiar sights
for what Yuri worries might be the last time. He sucks in a shaky breath and
tries to reason with himself. Surely they wouldn’t chase him so far away. He’s
just a prostitute. He’s nobody. But he’s heard stories about them and in every
single story he’s been told there is a shared element: their boss is a well-
connected man who loves his family more than anything and he stops at nothing
to get even. In other words, he can be led by emotion. Not logic. Not the fact
that it’d be manpower wasted on a hunt for someone insignificant. They’d gain
nothing from killing him, just personal satisfaction. But back at the house,
Otabek had been threatened with a gun. They just don’t do that to random
civilians. They’re a legitimate brothel and making an aggressive move like that
could lead to them being investigated. It could uncover all the shady shit
they’ve been up to-- the trafficked girls, the unregistered girls who work for
them outside of the brothel, the teenagers like him. Not to mention all the
drugs.
So they’re frantic. They’re in a panic because this is serious.
He’s feeling more and more like this is inescapable. Beside him, Otabek is
quiet and the expression on his face is mildly thoughtful-- nothing to indicate
distress. He doesn’t seem bothered at all. But for Yuri, the silence is hard to
bear. It creeps over him and his mind goes into overdrive and he’s so exhausted
already by this mess he’s made. He wants to talk with him and to think of
anything else. At the same time, he doesn’t know how to make casual
conversation. He doesn’t know that it wouldn’t be wrong to talk casually and
happily as they speed along to their inevitable deaths at the hands of people
who won’t be brought to justice. A surge of frustration washes over him-- he
really can’t seem to shut this off. So with an irritated click of his tongue,
Yuri turns on the radio. He cranks it way up and leans against the window,
scowling at the passing farms, and tries to calm himself down by focusing on
the music.
It’s easy to tell when Otabek is looking at him. He keeps his eyes mostly on
the road, but he turns his head to him every once in a while. Eventually, he
reaches out and dials the knob back.
“How are you feeling? You haven’t been sick for a while. Are you not nauseous
anymore?”
“I’ll be fine,” he tells him. With a brief pause, Yuri thinks better. “... I
hurt all over, but my headache’s going away. I’m not really nauseous anymore.
Mostly I want to stretch my legs and have a smoke. Did you bring any?”
Something in Otabek’s gaze hardens and Yuri realizes instantly that he’s given
himself away. He knows now for sure that he lied about not being hit in the
head. But he doesn’t comment on it. “... Only a carton, and it’s in the trunk.
I wasn’t thinking. I’ll pull over.” He taps the steering wheel once and does
exactly as he’s said, pulling over on the dirt shoulder. Otabek meets Yuri’s
eyes. “Yura, there’s a little town up this way. It’ll be another hour, but it
should be starting to get dark by then.”
“Any shitty little motels around?”
“It’s too small for that. But we should stop over anyways. My cousin lives up
here. He has a big house.”
“Huh? You want us to stay with him?”
“I do.”
It seems counter to his earlier worry about anything happening to his family-
- Yuri would think he’d be even more cautious after seeing a gun. “You’re not
worried?”
“I am,” he starts, placing his hand on the door. “But you know that a lot of my
family has served in the army. I’ve told you about him before-- he’s the one
who retired early from that foot injury. I think that if we rely on anyone, it
should be him tonight.”
“... Okay. Does he have a garage or something? Somewhere we can park.”
“He does. He has a lot of land too, and it’s all surrounded by forest. Hiding
the car should be simple.” Otabek opens the door and steps outside, winding
around to the trunk. Yuri waits for him quietly, watching until he disappears
behind the lid. He’s settling into the driver’s seat again soon enough and he
passes him both his phone charger and the carton. Yuri takes one pack out and
puts the rest in the glove box. “You weren’t playing on it, so I thought your
phone battery might be dry.”
“... Yeah, it is.” Yuri pushes in the cigarette lighter as he plugs the charger
in. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” The car pulls back onto the road and they speed off down
the highway once again. The silence that stretches out between them this time
is companionable-- he can see Otabek smiling over at him when he pulls up a
phone game with quirky music and he smiles back at him. They smoke together
with the windows rolled just a little bit down and with miles and miles
separating him from the city, he finally feels just a little bit at ease.
--- --- ---
They start passing houses.
They’re sparse, vast amounts of bush and farmland separating them, but there
comes a point where there are a few buildings clustered together. A gas
station. A general store. Things like that-- things that small rural
communities like this need. But even with the signs of human life all around,
Yuri can’t help but wonder: “This is really a town?”
“It really is.”
“I bet it’s not even on the map.”
“It isn’t.”
“What’s it called?”
“Chizhov.”
Yuri watches a barn pass by. “Never heard of it.”
“Of course not.” There’s a smile in Otabek’s voice. “We’re almost there.”
“... What’s your cousin like?” The reminder that they’re fast approaching
worries him. So he asks the questions that are on his mind. “What do you think
he’ll say about me?”
“He’ll probably embarrass me to try and get on your good side,” he comments
mildly, turning down yet another gravel road. “We played together a lot as
kids, so he’s got a lot of stories to tell. He’s a warm, friendly person. He’d
welcome any close friend of the family with open arms.”
As much as he’s suddenly eager to hear stories about Otabek as a kid, that’s
not what he was getting at. “Will he ask what happened to my face?”
Otabek pauses thoughtfully. “He might. We should come up with a story
together.”
“Yeah.” Better to stay on the same page. People are quick to notice
inconsistencies. “Would he buy the idea of me getting jumped?”
“Probably not.” Otabek’s voice softens and he hears him sigh. “You’re
absolutely battered, Yura, and it’s clearly fresh. His wife is much older than
him and she used to be a social worker before the two of them got the farm.
She’s seen a lot.”
“Fuck.” Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he thinks. “... Maybe my dad’s an
alcoholic.”
“I could be trying to give you reprieve from him.”
“Sounds believable.”
“... Let’s hope they feel the same way.” His friend sounds so tired then that
he suddenly wonders how much sleep he actually got last night. “I doubt they’ll
question things too much, but they’ll definitely be curious. His wife in
particular can be nosy. ... She also tends to make assumptions. Don’t be
surprised if she says something strange.”
“Like what?”
The car rolls to a slow stop. Otabek turns off the ignition and they sit in the
driveway of a nice house. It’s rustic and doesn’t look out of place in the
middle of fields and forest but the exterior has clearly been recently
renovated. Beside him, his best friend distinctly frowns. “She’ll probably ask
if we’re eloping.”
Something about the look on his face and his tone of voice-- so reluctant, so
obviously embarrassed-- makes him bark out a laugh. “You sound so sure. She do
this kind of thing a lot?”
“Yes,” he sighs, unfastening his seat belt. Looking at him with a wide grin,
Yuri is fairly certain he’s blushing. “Every family get together...”
“I won’t die.” His eyes shine with mischief and he pops open the car door. “I
know I can handle it. Can you?”
“Of course I can.”
Yuri laughs at him again and the two of them hop out of the car to approach the
front door. Otabek rings the doorbell and they wait a moment before someone is
clearly rushing to greet them. An older woman with copper red hair opens the
door and looks at Otabek with surprise. “Beks, what are you doing here
already?”
“I decided to start the trip a few days earlier than planned. I hope it’s no
trouble.” Yuri thinks that he can smell food. He’s suddenly starving.
“No trouble at all. The house is just still a damn mess.” But she’s looking at
Yuri a moment later, eyes lingering tellingly even as she beckons them both
inside. “Who’s this?”
“This is my friend Yuri. It’s a little last minute, but we decided to go
together.”
“That’s good,” she comments mildly as they follow her to a living room. With
one wall made entirely of glass, the sunset is clearly visible across the herb
garden, the pastures, the corn fields. “I never understood why you wanted to go
by yourself in the first place.”
“I think it’s a better idea too.”
Before sitting down, the woman extends a hand toward him. “Well, Yuri. I’m
Svetlana and it’s nice to meet you.”
“... Yeah. Nice to meet you too.” Yuri’s voice sounds so uncomfortable in
comparison to hers, but he takes her hand and shakes.
She seems satisfied because she settles in her armchair with a smile. “Now, my
husband is out with the horse right now, but he’ll be back soon enough. I’ve
just finished cooking dinner. When he’s done, we can eat.” Svetlana leans back
in her chair, crossing her legs and then her arms. She glances from Otabek to
Yuri as though gauging them both. “Before he gets here, I’d like you boys to
explain what happened.”
Yuri swallows dryly. “My face, right?”
“Yes, sweetie. Your face.”
Otabek’s voice is light but not without its own severity. “That’s the main
reason he’s here with me.”
“Yeah. It’s my dad.” Yuri pulls a face like he’s used to it. Like telling her
is only a minor inconvenience, like it’s just annoying. “So I’m making him take
me around the country. Just to have a break from him.”
Still alert, Svetlana watches them both a moment. She opens her mouth like
she’s going to say something when the front door opens and a man’s voice calls
out, interrupting her. “Sveta, I’m back. Dinner smells delicious!”
“I’ll be right there,” she shouts back to him, getting up and walking leisurely
toward the front hall. “We have guests! A few days early!”
With her out of the room, Yuri sighs heavily, slumping. He leans lightly
against his friend. “You weren’t kidding.”
(He can hear the husband and wife in the background-- “Guests?”
“Yes. Beks brought a friend.” Her voice lowers and he can’t make the rest out.)
“I’m sorry about her.”
“Don’t be. It’s not like you knew she’d launch into it the second we walked in
the door.” Yuri takes out his phone, takes off his sunglasses, and looks at his
reflection in the glossy black screen. “I guess it’s pretty bad, though.”
(“Well, you should go introduce me.” Soft footsteps approach from the hallway.)
“... It is. I can get you ice.”
“Don’t worry. It’s not really that swollen anymore, is it? ... Well, I guess my
eye kinda is.” He’s dabbing gently at it. It’s painful and puffy.
“It’s more than your eye, Yura.”
The married couple reaches the living room, Svetlana coming to sit across from
them in her chair. Glancing up at him, Yuri can definitely see the family
resemblance. This guy is taller than Otabek ever could’ve hoped to get, broad
shouldered and square, but his face-- while deeply wrinkled, while very tired-
- seems to have the same familiar lines to it. Otabek will probably look a lot
like him when he’s older. But another major difference that sets them apart is
that his cousin is immediately expressive, blinking at Yuri in surprise but
moving on naturally with a big grin as he looks toward Otabek. “Well, Beks,
don’t be a stranger. It’s been a while! Come here.” He extends his arms.
Yuri sits up straight and watches the two of them reunite, his cousin patting
his back heartily before Otabek comes back next to him. It’s a little awkward
being the only stranger in a room of people who are familiar with one another,
but he can’t say he’s never experienced it before. He can act naturally just
fine. Otabek speaks up: “This is my best friend, Yuri. Yura, this is my cousin,
Ravil. I know you weren’t expecting even just me tonight, so thank you.”
“What’s family for?” That grin gets turned Yuri’s way. “It’s great to meet a
friend of Beks’. He never brings anybody to our grandma’s holiday get
togethers, you know? Not even once.”
“... yeah, good to meet you.” He’s wondering what exactly those “get togethers”
look like now. He’s only met Otabek’s parents a few times when he went to hang
out; mostly his father, who works only a few days a week, caring for the home
otherwise.
“Your auntie’s gonna be happy.”
“Please don’t tell her about this,” Otabek mutters, sounding just embarrassed
to be teased. “It’s not like that.”
The grin on Ravil’s face gets wicked. “You sure?”
“I’m sure. There’s nothing to celebrate, so please keep this between us.” He
sounds mortified, and Yuri snickers.
Svetlana speaks up next. The two of them are grinning at him together now.
Truly a power couple. “There’s only one guest room.”
“Is there a couch I can sleep on?” Yuri offers, trying to ease the pressure on
his flustered best friend, grateful for the topic change. Spreading word that
they’re here could be dangerous.
“Listen to that!” He recognizes the tone of voice Svetlana takes as the same
one his mother does when he’s forgotten a chore. “Yuri, you won’t sleep on the
couch. You will sleep in the guest room.”
“What a generous kid,” says Ravil solemnly. The barely concealed grin on his
face gives him away, though. “Offering to sleep on the couch when he’s hurt.”
Otabek sighs heavily beside him, but when he looks over, he sees his friend
smiling warmly. “Yes. Yuri needs to stick to a proper bed-- I don’t mind the
couch.”
Laughing, Ravil is getting up and heading out the room. “I’ll go wash before we
eat. Don’t want it to get cold.”
“You’re not sleeping in here,” Svetlana tells him. “I set up the pillows so
nicely. Shame on you. You can sleep on the guest room floor.”
“I don’t mind that either.”
Yuri feels like he might’ve said something wrong with the way she’s suddenly
scolding Otabek, but he doesn’t seem to mind at all. He seems used to this.
It’s a foreign, faraway scene to him-- someone who has only ever had his
mother, no extended family whatsoever. Svetlana clicks her tongue at him and
herds them both out of the living room, telling them both to go wash their
hands. Despite saying that, though, she stops him and fusses over him. She’s
gently taking off his hat and brushing his hair out of his face to check out
what she can.
“What is he thinking...” She mutters under her breath like that. “I’ll give you
something cold to put on this after supper. Go wash up.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says without thinking, and she gently pushes him toward the
washroom.
Their conversation at the dinner table is just as lively and the food is
extraordinary. There’s a lot of different bread and Yuri tries a little of
everything with the soup she’s prepared, wolfing down one portion and getting
served another without even having to ask. Ravil tells them about his day with
the animals and it’s abundantly clear to Yuri that he’s happy. He loves life on
a farm. It doesn’t sound bad when he talks about the kittens that were born a
few weeks ago. It sounds fun when he talks about caring for the horse. They ask
him a lot of questions too. How old is he? How did he meet Otabek? How long
have they been friends? Does he get good grades, does he have any pets, does he
know what kind of job he wants? It’s a little much, but at the same time, Yuri
has fun. They’re nice people and they welcome him with open arms just as Otabek
said they would. And besides-- the way his best friend just keeps smiling and
smiling makes him happy. His expressions are usually subtle and over the years
Yuri has learned to read them. But this is blatant. There’s no need to try and
figure out what he’s feeling when it’s displayed so openly. He’s sure he’s the
exact same way right now.
It’s nice. This is nice. To go from the worst night of his life to something as
comfortable as this in a matter of hours feels particularly lucky. With the
meal finished, the dining room falls quiet and Ravil heads to bed. As Yuri
tilts his head back in the kitchen chair and listens to Otabek cleaning the
kitchen, he thinks mildly to himself that maybe he should buy a lotto ticket.
He closes his eyes and breathes deep.
Someone places a cold bag on his face, and he knows it’s Svetlana. “Thanks,” he
mutters, bringing his hands up to press it properly against his face. The chill
feels amazing; it numbs his face blissfully. Yuri didn’t realize how bad it was
hurting until getting relief like this.
“Put it back in the freezer when it gets warm,” she tells him gently. “Be sure
to ice your face when you’re on the road too. It will heal faster if you do.”
“Got it.”
She pats his shoulder and leaves the room. Probably to join her husband for
sleep. He just sits there waiting for Otabek, holding the cold bag to his face.
When the sound of dishes clacking together fades away entirely, he hears his
friend’s footsteps on the hardwood. When he enters the dining room, he hears
him snort.
“It’s not funny,” he grumbles. “Why didn’t we think of this sooner?”
“I guess you don’t remember. I tried to give you one, but you were so sick you
just knocked it on the ground. You couldn’t remember to keep it on. And then we
were in a hurry...”
“Ugh.”
“I’m glad it’s helping. But it’s getting late, Yura, and we need to get up as
early as possible.”
“Yeah,” Yuri says, pulling the ice off regretfully.
The two of them head up the stairs and down the hall, past the master bedroom,
past the bathroom. The last door. Inside, the guest room is pretty small, the
bed taking up quite a bit of space. There’s just barely enough room for a
sleeping bag and their luggage together. Otabek leaves the room to change in
the bathroom, and Yuri quickly gets into his pajamas and under the blanket.
Soon enough, they’re both laid down for the night with the light off and only
the sound of the crickets outside to soothe them to sleep. He’s exhausted. He
should be out in an instant. Yuri generally doesn’t have trouble with sleep. He
actually has the remarkable ability to fall asleep in weird places. But now
that he’s decided that’s enough for the day, his mind speeds ahead like it did
in the car. Soon, Yuri feels afraid. The shifting of the house sounds like
footsteps. The wind in the trees reminds him of the peace that he’d felt before
realizing they’d found him. The crickets fall silent every once in a while and
he wonders why. Soon, Yuri thinks about what had started all of this. He thinks
about how it’d felt to be beaten within an inch of his life and he relives it
in agonizing detail, tracing every sharp edge and rough texture again and
again. He thinks of what he’s done and he stares wide eyed at the ceiling.
He hears the quiet sound of Otabek’s breathing and he remembers himself. He
remembers that he’s not alone.
“Beka,” he says. “Beka, are you awake?”
There’s silence.
“Beka, wake up.”
“... I’m awake.” Barely. He sounds tired. Like he’d just started drifting off.
So much made it seem like Otabek hadn’t slept at all last night but this makes
it crystal clear. “Yura, what’s wrong?”
“Come here.”
He sees Otabek sit up and look over at him.
“... No, come here. On the bed. You can’t sleep on the floor.”
He hesitates, but Otabek stands and sits on the edge of the bed with a moment
or two. It really frustrates him. Yuri doesn’t want to explicitly ask for what
he wants. It seems weak and childish when his best friend has been so strong,
when he’s been supporting him without complaint. It frustrates him and he’s so
exhausted and afraid that he can feel his eyes welling up.
“I’m trying to get you to lay down with me. Stop being stupid. I’m freaked out,
okay? So just come here.”
“Oh.” He listens properly. He gets under the blanket and sheets this time,
laying stiffly and awkwardly beside him. Yuri knows this is probably weird.
That it’s got to be awkward for Otabek, no matter how much he cares, no matter
if he tolerates it or not. But Yuri crawls right beside him and wraps his arms
around him and clings tight. Maybe it should be expected with his occupation
and how long he’s been doing it. Maybe it makes no sense considering anything.
But Yuri is a tactile person. As much as he can fear it, he craves touch. When
Otabek hesitantly hugs him back, Yuri lets out a shuddering sigh of relief.
When he brings his hand up to his hair, he’s reminded so strongly of his mother
that it hurts. He hopes she’s okay and that him leaving like this hasn’t put
her in any hot water. Yuri knows very well that the first person his pimp would
go to for information about him would be her.
Maybe that’s how he got the address. But his mother would not sell him out just
like that. He’s so scared for her.
“I need to call my mom tomorrow,” he chokes out. “I have to make sure she’s
okay.”
Carefully navigating his way around the gash on his head, Otabek strokes his
hair. “Yura,” he starts. “I can’t stop you. But I don’t know if that’s a good
idea.”
“I can’t just leave her...” But deep down he knows he already did. Just like he
put Otabek in danger, he left and put his mother in danger too. Reasons not to
spring up like weeds-- contagious and hard to kill. He abandons the idea as
quickly as it’d come.
“She’s a strong woman,” he tells him. “Everything you’ve told me about her
tells me that she’s just as strong as you are.”
Yuri chews at his bottom lip, tucking his head closer against Otabek’s chest.
“We’ve been through hell. You don’t know the half of it.”
“I don’t.” So simple but it makes him feel staggeringly guilty. He knows it’s
not Otabek’s intention, but that’s what happens.
“The guy who showed up at your house is her boyfriend.” A pause, then-- “The
guy with the gold teeth.”
The silence is one where Otabek carefully puts together what he means to say.
It’s not uncomfortable, so Yuri waits patiently. “Who is he to you?”
“... Dunno,” he mutters, feeling like he’s said too much yet not enough. He’s
teetering on the edge of just telling him. Not everything, just this. “Maybe
he’s my dad.”
“You don’t know?”
“A lot of different guys could be my dad.”
He never stops petting his hair. Now that he’s lying half on him, Otabek’s body
has relaxed. “I see.” It doesn’t make him feel judged. If it were anyone but
his best friend, it definitely would-- but because it’s him, he just feels
understood.
“... I didn’t say it before now,” Yuri heaves a heavy sigh. “But... thanks. For
taking me with you. For all of this.”
“I’m happy you’re trusting me,” Otabek says, and he hears him yawn quietly.
“Sorry. I’m listening.”
“You’re spent. I’m not gonna keep you up longer, promise.” Despite himself, he
smiles. He closes his eyes. “I just wanted you here.”
Eventually, the hand in his hair slows and then stills. He hears him mutter
something-- ‘goodnight’, he thinks-- and he falls silent save for his quiet
breath and the beating of his heart. Yuri wills his mind to blankness and
drifts off soon after him.
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