Learning To Count(Otabek x Yuri) [boyxboy]

Chapter Eight

'What's been going on with you lately?' Rafael nudged Otabek gently. They were sat in Rafael's tiny student housing and for the past few days, Otabek had been very distant and oblivious to everything. It probably had something to do with the fact that it was also a few days since Yuri had kissed him. It played on his mind a lot, mainly because he felt massively conflicted about the whole ordeal. On the one hand, he really liked Yuri and now that there was certainty in a return of feelings he wanted to pursue it. On the other, Yuri was just sixteen. Legally able to make decisions, yes, but still three years younger than him. Only just sixteen, too. The only problem was he found it impossible to tell him no because he had no happiness in his life so to deny him anything felt like a cardinal sin of the highest order. They'd been lazily texting each other every now and then, just quick check-ins; nothing that suggested any progression in their relationship. So they had kissed a few times- did that mean anything had changed?
It was thoughts such as these that held his attention with a vice-like grip, not relinquishing its hold until Rafael pointed it out to him.
'A lot,' Otabek shrugged, running a hand through his hair and trying to fix it into place again. 'Yuri, mainly.'
'Oh, that guy at the park? He was okay.'
'Right?'
'You're into him?'
Obviously Otabek's intimations hadn't been very subtle.
'I guess, yeah.'
'Is he into you?'
'Yeah.'
'Isn't he only a kid, though?'
'Sixteen. So yeah, a kid. I feel terrible about it... He's not even mature for his age. Does that make me a creep?'
'I can't tell you what to do,' Rafael stated apologetically. 'Do what you think's right.'
'I don't know what's right.'
'I don't know, follow your heart.'
'I'm so confused with what my heart wants! I want to make him happy, but I don't want to corrupt him. I can't abandon him though,' He got the idea that dropping him would only make his sickness worse, and he couldn't take the guilt if it should have any adverse effect on Yuri. He still had his heroism complex and wanted nothing more than to save this waif of a kid from himself.
'I don't think you're that special,' Rafael chuckled, a teasing tone entering the conversation. 'The kid can survive a little heartbreak.'
'I don't know that he can; he's anorexic. He's been in a bad way and I'm worried that I might push him over the edge,' He couldn't keep the slight tremor from his voice, and Rafael squeezed his arm in camaraderie.
'You can't force yourself to like him just because you don't want to hurt his feelings.'
'But I do like him!'
'Then there's your answer. You're both consenting, able-minded people. How bad is it?'
'How bad is wh- oh. Bad, really bad. He tries to cover it up and distract me, but I've seen the times he's coughed up blood.'
Thinking about it brought both tears to his eyes and bile rising up his throat; he saw how desperate Yuri was to hide it, but that half hour sat outside his bathroom listening to him torturing himself had been possibly one of the worst moments of his life. He'd been just seconds away from breaking down the door, and when Yuri had finally emerged looking like some apparition of death, it had greatly disturbed Otabek to see the blood beading at the corner of his lip and staining the lines of his palm. The last he'd seen him, too, his mouth had tasted faintly of blood. Perhaps he'd been imagining it, or maybe he'd bitten his lip in anxiety. That wasn't the half of it, however- holding him was scary. He wanted to touch him, but each time he did his fingers were met with solid bone and they quickly retracted again in perturbation. You only had to look at him to see he was treading a cautious line along the verge of death.
'Are you really crying?' Rafael half-laughed, but it was an exclamation of companionship rather than one of a sardonic nature.
'No, I'm-' Otabek smiled and wiped his hazy lashline, clearing his vision some. He took a deep breath before he spoke again. 'I'm not crying. Just a bit emotional, is all.'
'If anybody can help him, it's you.'
This encouraging statement did little to revitalise his downcast spirits, but he appreciated it all the same.
'Don't think about him being sick if it upsets you. Tell me why you like him instead,' Rafael swiftly diverted the conversation to something less miserable. Otabek frowned, his mind attempting to pinpoint something specific. Was it something generic like he made him laugh, or was it more? He failed to come up with a solid answer, but he didn't see this as a lack of things to like. It was the general impression- it was the way he felt that mattered, not why.
'I just do,' He related, knowing it sounded shaky but able to say nothing else on the matter. 'But god, is it bad. Sixteen... Jesus.'
'Three years isn't catastrophic. Besides, he's legal, so it's not like-'
'Ugh. Don't even insinuate anything,' Otabek shuddered. He felt like if he did anything more than gently embrace Yuri he'd snap as easily as a twig. 'He's so innocent.'
'I used to be innocent,' Rafael fixed him with a dead stare.
'I'm sorry!' Otabek rolled his eyes. They had a strange history and it was something Rafael liked to bring up constantly. 'Let's just talk about something else, okay?'
Rafael grunted and left it. They had more important things to sort out anyway- namely Rafael's impending birthday and consequent party. He was planning to go big as he was turning twenty and had decided that this was more important than his mildly disappointing eighteenth. They'd organised it for that Friday night and everybody had been buzzing about it for months since they'd sent out invitations via Facebook. It was going to be huge and Otabek couldn't wait- he'd not been to a party in a few weeks and he was beginning to feel the same itching surge of boredom that made him want to get people drunk and make them tell him their life stories.
'I have an idea,' Rafael piped up as they ordered red cups and so on. 'You should invite Yuri.'
'Yuri?' Otabek's eyebrows shot up. He hadn't even thought of that, not for a moment. 'He's sixteen. He can't come.'
'Too bad. I think he'd like it- you, plied with alcohol, and him able to forget things for a while. He seemed normal to me when I met him, but I think it had something to do with him being drunk.'
'I don't know, it's...' He didn't want to spin off the same old excuse of wanting to protect him, but that was what it came down to. It didn't seem safe. 'I'll talk to him.'
'I can keep an eye on him. What's the worst that could happen?'