saviour • viktuuri ✔️

THREE

       guess who made a playlist for this fic

🥀

by the time victor opened his eyes to stare at the wall again, it was dark. his wrists were still chained up above his head, and the muscles in his arms were seizing up with the strain. he tried to bend them to help the pain, but the bruises still there under the metal of the cuffs stopped him. they weren't sore anymore - now they were painful, digging into his skin along with the hint of dried blood. his head was much clearer now, so simply looked at the now-closed bedroom door and tried to slowly recollect everything that had happened.

it was much easier than it had been before. victor wished it wasn't.

due to his sharpened mind, he felt his heart rate spike when the bedroom door clicked open again. even through the dark, he could see yuri's eyes shine, and see that same strap of his overalls hanging down his shoulder. victor didn't say a thing and watched yuri put his hands in his low pockets, smiling that same smile. victor guessed it was still the same day as that distant memory he had of yuri's hand on his throat and lips on his. victor felt himself getting confused again and fought it off.

"hey," yuri said, leaning on the wall with one foot crossed over the other. his cherry lips shone like his eyes and victor was fucking terrified with his wrists still fixed behind him,above his head. he tried once more to pull himself free, as if it would do a thing, when he knew it was about as successful as blowing bubblegum for him.

"and how are you feeling, babydoll?" yuri smiled, scratching a the back of his neck so his hair hung down in his eyes. fucking pretty. fucking terrifying. victor looked up at the ceiling and made out a crack in it. he rolled his hands in their cuffs and grimaced in pain.

"i'm good," he said, rolling his wrists inside their cuffs once again. it felt like listening to nails on a blackboard and victor gritted his teeth. yuri laughed, and shook his head.

"you didn't strike me as sarcastic."

yuri tilted his head, dark hair in glinting eyes, and gave a smile victor knew would be cherry red if it weren't for the dark.

victor was trying to figure out where in the hell he was whilst yuri kicked the rubber heel of his dirtied white trainers back on the wall gently. he used all the strength he managed to dig out to think back through the blood-stained polaroids of memories he had stuffed away in his head of the dark-haired boy with a gun in his locker.

he was listening to the 1975.
on vinyl.

yuri looked over at the window so the moon lit up his face and caught his milkshake face with a cherry on top.

there are vinyls.
downstairs.

something started to click.

"tear you apart" was on vinyl.
this is definitely his house.
fuck.

"why are we still here?"

yuri looked quizzical when he heard victor's question. he raised an eyebrow, then pushed himself up from the wall and came to sit down on the end of the bed.

"what do you mean by that?" he asked, pursing his lips. "odd question."

he rubbed victor's leg a little with his fingers, then drew circles on the bedsheets instead. victor tried to make sense of his own thoughts.

"i mean," he started off, slowly, carefully; cautiously, "that we're still...here, right?"

"where, baby?" yuri smiled, and swung his legs off of the side of the bed. victor swallowed hard.

"your house."

"huh."

"am i right?" he asked softly, almost nervously. yuri tilted his head to one side, then nodded.

"uh huh," he said, and smiled like a pretty madman. victor adjusted his position on the bed as best he could.

"so," he went on, "so why are we still here...i mean...the police - "

yuri started to laugh, like a childish giggle that glinted like a knife's edge in the dark. he continued drawing circles on the mattress's sheets.

"the police?" he asked, still laughing a little. then he dropped his hand, and sighed like a child asked to explain something. before he talked, he took an interest in victor's face, and ran a hand slowly down the left side, thumb pausing over his lips as if he were the most abstract piece of art ever to hang on the walls of a gallery.

he dropped his hand again.

"you see the thing is," yuri started off, crossing one foot over the other, "thag the police are underpaid around here and frankly shit at their jobs, because nothing bad happens in a well-kept area like this, does it?"

"that wasn't my house, sweetheart."

"and second of all," yuri went on, running his index finger on victor's thigh absentmindedly, "i don't think we need to leave, because i wasn't the one who shot up the school."

what.

"i - "

yuri laughed at victor expression, and covered his mouth with his hand.

"your face," he laughed, before taking a breath. "ok then, baby, i'll let you in on a secret - it was me, it was. felt fucking beautiful."

then he leant closer to victor and whispered in his ear.

"but the police don't think it was me. they think it was you."