Otayuri Oneshots

Rebirth

Yuri spent half of his life waiting, he realized. It seemed out of character for him, but there it was. He waited for the bus to the rink, he waited for the water to boil to make dinner, he waited until he was allowed to jump quads. Angels waited, devils rushed; Yuri did both.

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A short drabble about... something. Something Yuri Plisetsky-related. Something post-canon but also kind of deleted scenes? Who fucking knows.

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I literally have no idea what this is. Not a clue. I wrote it sitting on a bench under a flowering cherry tree with absolutely nothing to go on besides wherever the fuck my typing fingers took me. Enjoy, I guess?

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Yuri spent half of his life waiting, he realized. It seemed out of character for him, but there it was. He waited for the bus to the rink, he waited for the water to boil to make dinner, he waited until he was allowed to jump quads. He waited for Victor Nikiforov to keep his promises. It was early March when he decided that he was done waiting.

Only two days past his birthday, newly fifteen-year-old Yuri Plisetsky hopped on a flight to Japan, tired of waiting, ready to grab the world by the balls and twist until it did what he wanted. Make your own destiny, and all that shit.

It was March 19th when Yuri returned to Russia, tired, broken, and more terrified than he'd ever been. Was this it? Was this what he was, where he ended, all he achieved? Beaten by a pig who couldn't land a quad fucking Salchow, passed over by his idol of a decade, returned to his shabby room in the dorms, his cat who ignored him when he walked in, Yuri had failed. He had failed to be good enough, strong enough, graceful enough. Enough.

Even Victor, the air-headed poof that he was, could see more potential in a bumbling mess of anxiety on legs than in him. What did that say about Yuri? What did that say about the man who stole his name, and now owned it like it had only ever been his?

Yuri didn't know. What he did know, though, was that sometimes, and that was a slim sometimes, waiting could be beneficial. Maybe if Yuri had waited to be able to jump quads, Victor wouldn't have needed to make him that promise. Maybe if he had waited to show Victor that video, Victor wouldn't have gone to Hasetsu on a trans-oceanic booty call and then stayed for the view. Maybe if he had waited to follow him, he wouldn't have been in this situation at all.

But he hadn't, so this was his lot. He'd never been big on making his bed, so lying in it should've been easy, but it wasn't.

He would be better than Katsuki. Katsudon. The other Yuuri. He'd be better if it killed him, and he'd learn to wait. Patience was a virtue— Yuri hadn't been called virtuous in his memory, but had been called angelic enough that he thought it made up for it. What were angels if not virtuous, kindly creatures of heaven?

Well, there was Lucifer, but Yuri didn't need to dwell on that.

... Or he did. That could be profitable. Angels waited, devils rushed; Yuri did both. Like the rest of humanity, he contained multitudes inside himself, and like only very few, when one's ardor could not be quenched, he'd engage the other.

Agape and Allegro Appassionato— angel and devil alright, at least if one didn't look too hard.

It made sense, then, that when Yuri died, it was on the ice, in his costume, trying to both wait, and be more, all at once. But then again, only the good got to be reborn.

**A/N**

(I promise, in most of my works, I have a plot.)

(Check them out if you don't believe me!)

Comments and kudos fuel my angsty soul-- if you would like to leave them, I would be a very happy recipient! ♥