The Outline of Our Lives

Part 5

Seung Gil schedules the self-defense class for a bright, quiet Tuesday afternoon. Victor strokes Yuuri's hair until he awakens so they can get ready, showering and eating and dressing in comfortable workout clothing, as advised. They're the first ones to arrive at the community center, and they sit together in the back of the taxi and watch as their friends file in: JJ handsome in navy sweatpants and well-loved sneakers, Yuri and Otabek subtly linking pinkies, Christophe with an iced coffee, scrolling through his Instagram feed as he mounts the stairs. They look solemn, prepared. Yuuri feels a rush of gratitude that churns uneasily with his anxiety. He lifts his glasses and presses his face into his palms, measuring his breaths.

"Ready?" Victor asks finally, laying a soft kiss in his hair, and Yuuri slowly nods. They're racking up cab fare. Yuuri pays and tips, and they climb out of the car, the fresh air warm and full in their lungs.

They're just clearing the front sidewalk when Seung Gil drives up, pulling in close to the curb to help Phichit out of the passenger seat. "Hi!" Phichit exclaims, waving. He drapes his arms around Seung Gil's neck, and Seung Gil gently lifts him onto the pavement. It's beautiful until Yuuri looks down and sees Phichit's surgery-blackened hips, the bandages and stitches revealed by his short top and tight sweatpants, waistband lowered to avoid resting on the worst of the incision sites.

Yuuri's throat closes up. Seung Gil pulls his walker from the back and helps him get settled against its supports, and Phichit, seeing Yuuri's expression, quickly shakes his head.

"Oh, Yuuri, don't worry! This is a temporary measure. Was just feeling a bit wobbly this morning, is all."

"You look fantastic," says Victor, smiling.

Phichit beams back. "Thank you. I feel fantastic."

"Help him in," says Seung Gil, giving his keys a brisk twirl. "I'm going to go park."

Yuuri hastens to brace Phichit by the upper waist. The motion brings their faces close, and Phichit nuzzles his cheek with his own, obviously wishing they could kiss. Instead, he touches Yuuri's wrist, a platonic and loaded gesture that makes Yuuri ache. He reaches for the railing. Together, moving carefully, they ascend the stairs.

It's a long, painful process. Phichit has to stop four times in its ten-step length, panting, tears in his eyes. Yuuri's hands don't falter. He holds onto Phichit even when Seung Gil returns, and eventually they reach the top, Phichit's breath quaking in his chest. "No problem," he manages, flashing a shaky peace sign. Yuuri does kiss him then, on the temple, and it occurs to him in one sick rush that the last time they'd kissed deeply was outside the club.

A chill runs through him: the men had been watching them then. Had they known already what they were going to do to Yuuri and Phichit? Would any young men have sufficed, or were they targeted for their attitudes, their indiscretions? Yuuri remembers the clothes he had been wearing, the way he had greedily deepened Phichit's innocent kiss. What if he had provoked them with his sexuality?

Thing is, none of it was Phichit's fault. Phichit had actually been resistant; had drunk less, worn more. Victor keeps telling him that he wasn't to blame, but if anyone had been at fault, it was him. Yuuri wishes he could clarify that for their friends. Seung Gil is still the only one who has the details of the assault. He hasn't even given Victor the play-by-play, and, with any luck, never will. But Yuuri knows. He—

—touches the mirror again, the one in his mind. Reflects off. Rushes forward to hold the door open for Phichit.

When they finally reach the appropriate room, his friends are already stretching under the supervision of a middle-aged, female Korean couple, one of them in elbow and kneepads. No one stares at them as they take their places on the mat, but Seung Gil has to help Phichit to the ground, and Victor flinches toward Yuuri when his bad hip twinges. It takes them a long time to get settled. Yuuri glances at Phichit sidelong, watches him attempt tender, easy stretches.