Eyes of a Soldier (Yuri!!! On Ice - Otayuri)

Eyes of a Soldier

A/N: This has been running around in my head since the Otabek/Mila rumors started, and I needed it out. So... I'm sorry.

Warnings: one-sided Otayuri, heartbreak, self-harm, pushing to the brink of collapse, NOT a happy ending

Yuri is so happy to finally have a friend, he's giddy with it. He throws his arms around Beka, after winning that first gold, high on adrenaline. He teases him good-naturedly, offers to kill JJ for stealing his spot on the podium. Beka smiles, takes the teasing, takes him to dinner.

They chat online, send selfies and cat videos. They meet up for competitions, hanging out, taking rides on Beka's bike, drinking tea. Yuri wins gold after gold; Beka wins bronze, silver. He doesn't seem to mind.

Yuri finds himself telling Beka things he's never told anyone, showing him his true feelings. He tries to pretend that he's not feeling more than friendship, that the little smiles and touches don't have hidden meanings. He's not sure he's very good at it.

He wants - needs - to talk to Beka about it, of course he does, but he doesn't know how these things work. But as he gets older, he feels something indefinable within himself shift. He bites his lip, works up the courage, gives himself pep talks.

If Beka notices that he's more often distracted now, he doesn't say anything. And maybe he just doesn't notice. Yuri hasn't dropped all his masks, after all.

He knows he's falling hard, knows that he's playing a dangerous game. Beka hasn't given him any indication that he feels the same. Tomorrow, he decides, chewing the inside of his cheek raw. Tomorrow. After the free skate. Before they all head home. Tomorrow he'll tell him.

He chickens out.

But Beka turns back, in the airport, on the way to his gate.

"Yura," he says, looking at the ground, scuffing the toe of his shoe nervously against the tiles. He's never nervous. Yuri's heart beats faster.

"Yes?" he says softly. His nerves jangle with anticipation, but he tries not to show it. Is Beka going to beat him to it?

"Um," Beka says, rubbing his hand awkwardly on the back of his neck. "Um... do you think... I mean... would... is Mila seeing anyone?"

He looks up, eyes disgustingly hopeful, and Yuri feels the slow unfurl of hope shrivel and die in his chest. It hits him like a slap in the face - Beka never saw him as anything but a friend.

He pauses for just a second too long, mouth working silently to form a coherent answer, and Beka starts to turn away, an embarrassed flush on his cheeks.

"No, wait." Yuri buries his hurt deep under his familiar prickly shell. He'd begun to let it go, with Beka, but now he draws it close, protecting himself.

Beka doesn't like him like that. Fine. He's only ever offered friendship, anyway - it's Yuri who's let himself hope for more, Yuri who's acted the fool.

Fine. He's fine. He can do this. He won't lose this friendship.

He smiles, even though he's dying inside, and he offers advice. Good advice, too. He knows Mila - she's like his big sister, and she's never been shy about her love life. He knows what she likes and wants, and what she doesn't. 

Beka leaves to catch his plane with a small, hopeful smile lighting his face, and Yuri smiles back. When he gets home, he cries silently into his pillow all night... but no one need ever know. He's good at concealing the evidence.

There's months until the next competition; Yuri spends it training. He's as strict as Lilia now. She's not had cause to chastise him in ages. He chats with Beka, but less often. He uses practice as his excuse, or he would, if Beka asked. But he doesn't. He doesn't mention Mila again, and Yuri tries not to let himself hope.