Learning To Count(Otabek x Yuri) [boyxboy]

Chapter Five

'Can I ask you a question?' Otabek put a hand on his mother's shoulder, slipping in beside her to help her with the dishes. He found her easiest to talk to when her hands were distracted and she could focus a bit more on what was immediate, rather than work that needed to be done. He dried as she washed, and after she'd finished a bowl she replied.
'Ask away.'
'It's not a nice one.'
'That's okay, I signed up for this when I gave birth to you.'
'What do you know about anorexia?'
Her hands froze for a moment and she took a moment to recompose herself before beginning to scrub again.
'Why?'
'One of my friends.'
'Is she okay?'
'He, actually. I want to help him but I don't really know what I can do. He's already seeing a doctor but I'm worried for him.'
'Have you tried talking to him?'
'Yeah. He doesn't really like to talk about it, though.'
'Then don't make him. Talk to him about other things; let him find happiness and maybe that will help.'
'Your advice is pretty good,' He hugged her, and she stroked his back.
'How did you become such a good person?'
'Raised by one of the best.'
'Now you're sucking up to me. Let me guess, you want to go out?'
'Do you mind?' He chuckled, amazed by how quickly she'd seen through him. The idea had only really come to him in the middle of the conversation when she'd told him to make Yuri happy. He didn't know if he'd be free, but he wanted to at least try to cheer him up. He'd sent him plenty of texts, but only received one that said he was taking a day off school because he was afraid to face the music. He sent him a text now to ask if he was around, along with several other friends he hadn't seen in a while.
'You're 19. You're allowed to have a life.'
He kissed her on the cheek, thanking her, before tidying away the rest of the dishes and mooching off to his room. He didn't get a reply from Yuri for several hours, by which point the plans were already made and all his friends were on their way down. He asked him to meet at a park near to the school, assuming he'd live somewhere nearby. He insisted that all his friends would be super nice and he'd love all of them, so he didn't need to worry. Yuri was adamant that he wasn't worried in the first place, and Otabek got the feeling he was happy to escape his house and to hang out with the 'big boys'. He'd partially forgotten that there was an almost four year age gap between them, and he wondered if he was immature or Yuri was mature for his age. He'd reacted childishly in the situations where he'd run away, but that wasn't what gave him a childish aspect. It was when his sickness was more visible than usual and Otabek would get the overwhelming urge to protect him. He wasn't sure if this was due t his caring nature or because Yuri was so defenceless and small. Was he just projecting a hero complex onto him? Maybe he was feeling like this because he loved to be the knight in shining armour and Yuri was a perfect example of a damsel in distress. Whether it was a glorified god complex or not, he still had a burning desire to save Yuri.

Yuri had been afraid at first despite his excitement, but as it turned out he needn't've had any qualms about it because as Otabek had explained, all his friends were great. Rafael, the Dominican boy with hair almost as big as his ego. Denver, the 'not-girl-not-boy' (their own words) with an eclectic taste in fashion. Amira, the ethereally stunning sari-wearing girl who had brought brightly coloured spirits in a wide variety of alcohol percentage. She explained to Yuri that her clothes were a 'fuck you' to Eurocentric fashion ideals and he giggled, taking one of the drinks she passed him and sipping it gingerly. He screwed up his face as the overly sweet and yet so acidic drink burned the back of his throat, and Otabek laughed at him.
'Not really a drinker, are you?' He teased. Yuri stuck his tongue out and downed half of it, at which point Otabek plucked the bottle out of his hands, much to his protestation. 'Slow down, moron! This stuff is mortal.'
'Oh, shut up,' Denver prised the bottle from Otabek and handed it back to its rightful owner. 'As if you don't drink one a minute.'
Yuri smirked and smugly poured the last of it down his throat. He sat down next to Otabek on a wall, rubbing his hands together to keep the early spring frost from demobilising them. Soon, he hoped, the alcohol would kick in and the sensation of cold would become a stranger to him.
'What are we actually doing here, again?' He asked, bored now that he had finished his drink and had nothing else to put his mind to.
'We're just going to get drunk and talk,' Otabek shrugged, tossing back the contents of an obnoxiously green alcopop with alarming ease.
'That's it?'
'That's it.'
'Nobody's drunk.'
'The boy is right!' Announced Rafael, who brandished a bottle of vodka. 'Shots!'
'Nobody even has shot glasses,' Otabek pointed out, but Amira was already on it. She took the bottle caps from all the empty bottles and lined five up along the wall, into which Rafael poured vodka liberally.
'Ready?' He knelt down in front of them, picking up a cap and spilling a little over the sides. Yuri picked one up too, to which Otabek again complained.
'You can't do shots! I feel like I'm sullying you.'
'You sullied me,' Rafael grumbled, and Otabek shot him a glare, but allowed everybody to pick up the caps.
'Okay, 3-2-1!' Denver cried, and they all took the shots. Yuri coughed as it burned his throat and Otabek laughed at him again. He was beginning to feel lightheaded at last and he teetered a little as he sat down on the wall. He didn't know when Amira lit a joint, but at some point they were all sat in a circle on the wet grass and she was passing it around. At least, he was sure it was a joint because it sure as hell didn't look like a cigarette. Denver handed him the joint and he was about to take it when Otabek intervened, diving in to swipe it from his young, impressionable grasp.
'No way,' He handed it back to Denver, giving them a stern glare. 'He can drink a bit, but no smoking.'
'Why? You did!' Yuri protested, his eyes flashing with envy and anger. He just so desperately wanted to be a normal person and be able to fit in with this group, but Otabek was pot-blocking him.
'Because you're sixteen. Bad habit.'
Yuri rolled his eyes and stalked off to sit on a swing. Otabek came up behind him and began to push him, evoking a startled giggle and making him grin widely. He hadn't done such a simple and innocent thing since time immemorial. He kicked his legs out and leaned back, his hair fluttering behind him. Otabek stopped the swing with his boot and held Yuri by the shoulders, running his hands through his hair. Yuri sighed, the alcohol in his veins fogging his mind and making him feel a beautiful warmth and serenity. This was a good escape. But was it intoxication or something a little bit more? The fingers threading gently through his hair, perhaps? He stood up abruptly, and Otabek retracted his hands like he'd burnt them.
'Don't like your hair being touched?'
'No, I do- I mean, I don't care,' He reached up and touched his hair. 'What did you do to it?'
'It's a french braid.'
'What?'
'A kind of plait.'
'Why the hell do you know how to plait- are you gay or something?'
'What, just because I can plait I'm automatically gay?' Otabek arched an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his eyes.
'No, I just mean... It's weird.'
'Whatever. Hey, truth or dare?'
'Ugh, really?' Yuri rolled his eyes, but Otabek pursued it and dragged him back to sit him down with the others, who were all flying high as a kite by this point. 'Fine. Dare.'
'I dare you to down the rest of this,' Amira passed him the almost-empty bottle of vodka. He looked at Otabek and, receiving no complaint this time, tipped the contents down his throat, ignoring the acid pain of it. He held the empty bottle up like a trophy, almost keeling over backwards but giggling madly all the same.
'Denver, druth or tare?' He chortled, waving the bottle at them.
'Truth,' They blinked slowly at him.
'Ooh! Do you have a crush?' Rafael jumped in, wrapping an arm round their waist.
'Next question,' They grimaced.
'Forfeit!' Amira squealed with excitement. 'You have to... Swing as high as you can on the swings!'
'Not very adventurous,' Yuri slurred, but then he remembered they were more than a little tipsy and swings would inevitably cause Denver to puke.
'Okay, yes I have a crush!' They blurted out, but denied further information. Amira pouted and moved on, bored with talking to a brick wall.
'Otabek, truth or dare?'
'Dare,' He grinned mischievously.
'I dare youuuu,' Amira sang, glancing around the circle. 'To kiss Yuri!'
'No way!' Yuri cried out, shock turning his face pale and his stomach numb.
'Okay,' She conceded, looking mildly disappointed. 'Rafael, then.'
Yuri expected Rafael to protest, but instead he just waggled his eyebrows suggestively and beckoned Otabek over. Yuri thought they'd pretend to do it, or maybe lightly peck each other as a joke. This was what happened with spin the bottle at any parties he went to, just for the banter. But no- either Otabek was really dedicated to this game or he was actually into it. He hooked a hand behind Rafael's head and pulled him in for a deep kiss, holding him there and moaning softly. It felt distinctly wrong to be watching them, but everybody else was giggling and he wondered if it was because he wasn't high like they were that he didn't feel so sure. He didn't think he had anything specifically against two guys kissing, but he didn't like the thought of Otabek doing it. The two of them pulled apart after a few seconds and Denver wolf-whistled them. Otabek sat on Rafael's lap and ordered that the game continue. Yuri started to feel somewhat sick, his stomach knitting tightly together and his head feeling like somebody had swirled the contents of it about with a whisk. He lay back on the cold grass, relishing the feeling of it cool against his hands as he ran his fingers through it. The last thing he remembered was momentarily propping his head up to see that Otabek and Rafael were kissing again whilst Denver and Amira egged them on wildly, splashing them with drinks. All four of them were laughing raucously and he couldn't help but feel forgotten.