The Truth About Yuuri Katsuki

Vierzehn

There was a thunderstorm in the weather forecast tonight. Otabek bought extra candles just in case. He sat in his apartment at his kitchen table alone, with matches, staring at the candles and looking out the window. He was mentally preparing himself for the harshness of reality. He wasn't expecting Yuri to drop by that night. He wasn't expecting for the power to actually go out either. But he did and it did.

There was a knock at his door. This wasn't unusual. He hoped that maybe he'd just imagined it, but he was wrong. Apparently today was a day meant for everyone's misery. Yuri stood at the door with a crestfallen look on his face. He didn't ask to come in, Otabek just offered. Otabek didn't know what had happened but it must've been something terrible if Yuri was here without warning.

"My..." Yuri's voice cracked and he could barely speak, "my grandpa..." he tried again. Otabek understood the struggle of wanting to speak but being unable to. Something terrible must've happened to Yuri's grandpa if he was here. Otabek didn't know what it was like to have a family member love you that much. He didn't know what it was like to love a family member so much that when something happened to them your heart had no choice but to be torn in two. Otabek's family wasn't anything like that. In fact, at times, he wished they all were dead.

Otabek led Yuri into his home and had him sit down at the kitchen table. Yuri stared at all of the candles while Otabek made a cup of tea for him. It began to rain lightly outside. Otabek could hear the raindrops falling on the roof.

After placing the cup in front of Yuri, Otabek sat down on the opposing side. He folded his hands and allowed Yuri to say whatever it was that he needed to say, or to not say anything at all. Otabek didn't force anything out of him. He was too distracted by what was going on outside to worry about Yuri. Otabek felt bad about this but he didn't know how to control it. It was all he could do to keep the memories lurking in the back of his mind from surfacing. 

"Are you okay?" Yuri asked. Otabek was serving as a marvelous distraction from Yuri's own troubles. He was now worrying about Otabek instead of his grandfather. "You're gripping your hands together so tightly that your knuckles have gone white."

Otabek nodded, but Yuri wasn't convinced. The rain began to pour a little more harshly. Thunder could be heard too. Otabek only wished that the power wouldn't go out this time. He couldn't handle that. Otabek stared outside the window. It could be seen from where he was sitting. The light sky flashed, the rain poured, and the thunder boomed. He hated every minute of it.

"Do you hate thunderstorms?" Yuri asked, even though the answer was obvious. Although, the rainstorm wasn't the part that Otabek hated. He hated remembering all the things he'd sworn to forget. Otabek stood up and tried to get his mind off of it. But the thunder boomed once more and he was caught off guard. The sky had darkened drastically in the past few minutes. Otabek leaned up against the door's frame. His face as pale as a ghost's.

He could clearly see in his mind's eye the door, the darkness, and the younger version of himself stuck there. Each time the thunder boomed he was reminded of the constant pounding on the door and the yelling his father did. It had been raining at those times too. He didn't remember doing anything wrong, but he must've if they hated him so. 

The day he came out of the closet they forced him back in.

Otabek's memories had unsettled him so much that he'd forgotten to breathe while standing. Darkness crept into his vision and he fell backwards onto the cold hard floor. Yuri hovered over him, even more concerned now, shaking him lightly and yelling his name. The power went out at the moment Otabek's eyes reopened. He held back his desire to scream and was frozen stiff instead. 

We're kicking you out the moment you're old enough to be considered an adult. I never want to see your filthy face again. Do you understand? 

We aren't going to talk about this ever. As far as I know you're still my perfect straight little boy and we'll pretend everything is fine. But, you're leaving this house and you're never coming back, or this will be the least of your worries.

We're disowning you.

You're not an Altin anymore.

It's been eight years and Otabek still hasn't forgotten that night. He hates himself for it but he knows the memories will never stop haunting him. Something like that shouldn't have been the reaction. He was only ten. He wasn't even a teenager yet. He was still a child. To be so harshly rejected in a stage when you aren't even fully developed leaves a wound that is constantly bleeding.

Otabek covered his face with his arm. Yuri lit a candle. "Otabek?" he questioned. There was no response. Otabek didn't know how to respond without losing the last piece of himself he had under control. He couldn't say a single thing.

If it's possible for a mother to hate her own child then it's possible the child will never be loved by anyone.

"I'm sorry," Otabek mumbled. For being born. "I'm sorry..." Otabek repeated. For turning out to be a disappointment.

Yuri could tell that Otabek was in a place that was no longer in the present. He couldn't tell what kind of world Otabek was lost in, but it wasn't this one, and it wasn't a good one either. Yuri placed the candle on the floor and grabbed Otabek's hand. He wasn't sure what else to do. Otabek had always been the one supporting him. He figured the roles should change for once, it was only fair. 

Sometimes in order to comfort someone you just have to be there. No words have to be said because words can't always express the feelings inside. No words can comfort because the words that are usually said aren't comforting anyway.  No, it's not going to get better. No, things won't change. No, life won't open up another door. Those things are all pitiful lies people say. Life sucks. People suck. Existing sucks. That's just the way things are.

The lights flickered and turned back on even though the rain still poured outside. Otabek sat up. He looked dead. Hollow. Not all there. "I'm sorry," he apologized to Yuri, "you were the one coming here for comfort, weren't you? And you ended up comforting me instead."

"It's fine," Yuri hugged Otabek, not because he asked for it, and not because he wanted it, but because he needed it, "we're friends, aren't we?"

"Yeah," Otabek sighed, "we're friends."