inspired by the arrival of hurricane irma over my state: f u irma
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Word Count: 868
We find ourselves trapped in the throes of a flash snowstorm, and if I hold up my phone just right, I can still find enough service to check up on the status of our incoming competition. It seems as if it is going to be postponed, thanks to the storm. Erstwhile, Otabek and I are snowed in.
This is not the best condition for an agitated skater and his stolid lover. I find myself pacing restlessly around Otabek's hotel room.
"Yura," he says. "How can I help you, right now? Tell me what you want."
I bite my lip and turn to face him.
"Can I just... can I just vent to you?" I sigh.
"Of course, my love," his voice is low and inviting. Inviting, even more so, as he adds, "Come here, Yuri," and indicates for me to join him in bed.
Gingerly, I pad toward him. Unwilling to be coddled, but also in need of human touch, I climb into Otabek's lap and sit facing him. He sits up to meet me halfway. For a moment, I'm lost in the urge to kiss him. And after several seconds of kissing him, I finally find the words I need to say in order to expel my angst.
"You remember me as a child?" my voice fails me, as I attempt to remain strong.
"I do, you were very good at the barre," he nods.
"I'm going to tell you something horrible," I swallow hard. "And it's not pretty, but it's true."
Otabek looks concerned. He nods again, eyebrows knitting together.
"My grandfather adopted me because I was being neglected at home," I crumble, my face falling and the tears tumbling down with every brick of the walls I've been building for years. "They had plenty of money and they had plenty of time," I hug myself into Otabek's chest. "But they never fed me, they didn't come home for days at a time, they would drop me off at the ballet studio and leave me for hours too long and I never heard the words 'I love you' until I was given to the care of my grandfather."
"Yura..." Otabek grips me protectively. "Why are you telling me this?"
"My grandfather..." I try to explain. "My grandfather was everything to me, Otabek. He saved me from it-- God, I mean-- from them. He was there when my parents weren't and.... And now he's not. He's gone, Otabek, and I can't ever get him back."
"Oh, Yuri," Otabek strokes my shortened hair, chopped off in a fit of intermingling rage and sorrow.
Victor trimmed it yesterday to look a little cleaner for me. He feels responsible for me, as if he's my guardian-runner-up. And maybe he is, but I'm not ready to admit that my grandfather is gone. I'm not ready to start relying solely on that lovesick idiot, or even Yakov while he's still around.
I'm not ready to be the sob story of international television and the internet. Life was normal two days ago. Life was normal until I found him lying on the floor in the middle of a heart attack-- the irony was beyond me, at the time. But now, as I think back to Valkyrie and the SVT attack and my typo sent to Katsudon, I almost believe I caused his death, or maybe subconsciously predicted it.
"What am I supposed to do, now?" I cry.
"Your grandfather was a wonderful person, Yuratchka," Otabek kisses my neck once. "You are suffering an irrevocably enormous loss." This is a lot of words for him. "But you're not going through it alone."
"I was alone for years!" I break. "Beka," I can hardly see through the inundation of tears, "I was so alone for so long."
"You were alone," Otabek agrees, running a hand through his hair and shrugging away an onset of his own tears. "But you aren't now--"
"My Agape is gone," I interrupt. "You are the Eros for me in the same way that Katsudon and Victor share. Albeit, growing up, I never thought I'd even get this. I mean, ask Victor, I told him I was asexual and he teased me about it but he believed me. And although I'm so lucky to have you in my life, Beka... my Agape love is gone whether or not I have your Eros."
Otabek looks defeated, lost for words.
"I love you unconditionally," he replies after a moment. "I'm not arguing with you, Yuratchka. But I mean it when I say that."
"God, Beka," I linge into a desperate kiss, surfacing only long enough to say. "I love you, too. I don't mean to short change you. I'm just sad and grieving--"
"I know, Kitten," he murmurs, pulling me back into the kiss.
When I listen beyond the sound of our gentle moans and soft kisses, I can hear the snowstorm beginning to howl and the snow hitting the windows like the timid taps of fingers on the glass. The storm was annoying at first. But it's given me the time I needed with Otabek and myself.
