To Know You [Yuri Plisetsky x Reader]

23

Y/n POV

I ended up finishing my meal alone, and I just wrapped up the rest of Yuri's ramen. With a heavy sigh, I placed the rest of his food into the fridge with his name scrawled onto it in my handwriting. He's always rummaging through the fridge, he'll probably see it pretty soon. I just don't understand what happened then. Surely I didn't do anything, right? I was quiet, I was keeping my eyes affixed to my own food, what could it be? With one more sigh, I left the kitchen to head to my room. My uncles were in the main room watching TV and chatting amongst each other. About what, I've no clue. Uncle stuff, I guess.

A familiar curly brown tail waved in front of me, and I smiled down at Makkachin. I patted my thigh and offered a weak whistle as I continued my path to my room, and to my excitement, Makkachin proceeded to follow behind me. The thump-thumps of his big paws hitting the ground as he trotted after me kept a small smile on my face until we got into my room. I laid on my bed, and Makka took that as an invitation to hop up with me. I got comfortable and pulled him to lay across my stomach so I could pet him and play with his fur.

"You've got it good, bud. You don't have to worry about things like anxiety disorders or icky interpersonal relationships. You just get to be a happy little dog who gets head scritches and walks under people's feet even though you're massive." I smiled down at the dog and flapped his ears around as he watched contentedly. "You don't have to worry about unpleasant fathers, or guys who try to be your friend but hate you at the same time. Everyone around you just loves you endlessly, and you know they do. You don't stay up at night thinking about how it could very well be possible that even your ever-adoring Uncle who stands up for you and takes you into his home and laughs at your dumb jokes, maybe he secretly hates you just like everyone else does. Maybe everyone in your new home is burdened by you and they all just wish you would leave, find a different family to annoy, or even just go back and live with your dad. He never hurt me, I guess. He drinks a lot, and he yells at me if I don't do everything his way, and he busted my door open just because I was trying to go cool off, but... I don't know, Makka. Am I just too sensitive about him? He is my dad, after all. Surely someone my mom married of sound body and mind can't be all bad? He just. Ugh. He just, he was pretty bad when mom was still around, and then she went and– aah... She, she died, and then he just got... exponentially worse. But why did I have to take the brunt of that? What did I ever do other than exist in his house, you know? I did everything I could to keep my head low and fly under the radar, but no, that wasn't good enough. I shouldn't have to feel like I'm constantly walking on eggshells in my own home. Everyone else I know, sure they argue with their parents here and there, but I feel like my own father just hates me. Uuu, 'you're a spitting image of your mother', uuu, yeah, stupid, because I would hate to resemble you in any way. Uuu, 'Y/n, anxiety isn't real', uuu, stupid.. Stupid Dad. Stupid."

I was trying so hard to be angry at him. But all I could feel was my voice breaking and tears rolling down my face. Why am I even thinking about him right now? God, how stupid can I be? I'm really putting my uncle on the same level as my father. How's that fair to him when he's done so much to help me, and I haven't given, like, anything back? God. I just... God.

Makkachin looked up at me with his beady little dog eyes before sniffing at my tears and licking them off my face. "Ew, Makka, stop that– where's your tongue been? You dogs and your salt addiction."

I let out a laboured sigh and looked up at the ceiling. My eyes were wide open, but I could feel my body trying to rest. The ceiling became blurry and suddenly I was out of my own body. All my senses seemed to stop. I was petting Makkachin, but I couldn't feel his fur anymore. My tears remained on my face but I was no longer crying. It felt so... blank. It was oddly comforting. I have no idea how long I stayed there, just staring at my ceiling, unmoving, unthinking. It felt like hours, but it also felt like I had only just started. Time itself felt fuzzy. Even my own mind was quiet. I think that was my favourite part. No worries, no thoughts about what is, what once was, what soon will be; no regrets to indulge in, no what-ifs to explore, just radio silence. Just my body laying in bed, my eyes slowly blinking, and my chest rising and falling with my breathing. Just there. Nowhere else.