saviour • viktuuri ✔️

FOURTEEN

by rewrite i meant just edit a lil so it's basically the same ! if you read it before like just wait for the next chapter nothing major has changed

unfortunately

CRUEL
🥀ST. VINCENT

the sky stayed soft and orange like pastel frosting until victor in a creased white tee and yuri in his jeans rolled at the ankles were approaching the screen door of a house not too far from a payphone victor knew down the street.

"phichit could've been the one, y'know," yuri teased, hands in his jean pockets as they walked up the porch. "you could've just got in the way or something. maybe you and i were never meant to be, and now you've made me go and kill the love of my life for nothin'."

victor smiled down at the grass, and felt the napkin with names scrawled across in pencil crumpled in his jean pocket. yuri stepped closer to him as they went up the porch.

"i'm glad you did," he whispered with a cherry red smile and dark, pretty eyes. "get in the way i mean." his fingers touched lightly at the bruises on victor's wrists - from handcuffs and an art teacher who was now nothing more than ash - before they dropped back to the pockets of his denim jeans.

the both of them noticed the open basement door immediately.

fuck.

"huh," yuri laughed lightly, and left his sunglasses on the side. victor shut the front door, and tried to think. he couldn't - not very well at least.

"did you teach him how to break out of those cuffs, baby?" yuri asked, spinning around to face victor as he made his way down the hall. victor wondered if he was going to try and kill him. instead, yuri simply smirked and returned from the kitchen with that same black-handled, blood-stained knife from the sink.

"i really hate hide and seek," yuri pouted, running his finger along the edge of the knife and drawing it away streaked red with phichit's blood. "d'you reckon he's still in the house?"

"why would he be?" victor asked, although now the thoughts of chris in a police station and whirring blue sirens were starting to be replaced with those of chris upstairs in that closet - they'd stolen his car, after all, and he must've been concussed.

fuck.

"i don't know," yuri shrugged, swinging the knife he now held between two fingers like a pendulum. then he smiled - that prettily fucking terrifying smile victor knew like the back of his hand. "vendetta, maybe?" he laughed, and tapped the edge of the knife against the wall twice. "that would be cute."

victor wondered if it would seem suspicious if two teenagers dumped two cars off of one cliffside in the same day. yuri sighed, and tossed the knife in his hand.

"i've got no fucking clue where to begin," he laughed, and took a step forwards. "upstairs? i think i should cut him right here - "

he touched victor's abdomen lightly with the edge of the knife. victor didn't flinch - he was too in love with yuri, that much was clear.