Otayuri: Letters | ✔

{ Alt. Ending }

The date was exactly 35 days before recruits were due to return from war. Yuri was nervous to read the letter he'd been delivered that day, but still proceeded to unfold the white envelope and scan across the familiar handwriting.

Otabek Altin.

The name was once again planting itself in his memory, and after so many weeks of working to forget it... It still touched his heart.

What sort of decision was this to make?

What sort of nineteen-year-old needs to decide on their only love?

Who (athough they claim to have distanced from) is still effortlessly leaving them head over heels.

After a few minutes of thinking, pacing across the scarcely furnished room, and silent tears, Yuri concluded with himself that the choice was on his account. No elder would be capable of giving him an answer. This was all him.
       So, the boy delicately walked across the wooden floorboards to the couch, reading Otabek's message over and over again. And after all that contemplation, he knew he'd never say no to his burning desire to see Otabek... Even, he dare say, to experience the pleasent feeling of their lips touching for the first time.
Furthermore, for the next five weeks, Yuratchka was painfully reminded each day of his love for Otabek Altin.

Until November 12th, 1915, arrived.

By then, Yuri just wanted to scream his name aloud.

. . . . . . .

He left his golden hair loose to blow in the wind as he approached Alexander Park. There were many, many people there, too. A lot of people there who may or may not have been enduring stress and anxiety equal to his very own.
       But for the most part, Yuri decided to simply ignore his surroundings and focus on the reason he'd left his house in the first place: to see Otabek Altin.
       He felt out of place - though, nothing new - as he looked over the ocean of families, collectively awaiting their loved ones. Then there he was, alone, one of his mother's long, fuzzy jackets pulled on tightly, as it was the only thing he really had anymore. He didn't really look the part either, although if Otabek were beside him, he would have held him close and told him he looked beautiful.

Otabek wasn't there though, not yet.

Yuri sighed as he looked up at the cloudless sky, whispering to himself. "He'll be here soon..."

Yet another twenty minutes flew by, however, and there was still no sign of the man Yuri was waiting for. Was longing for.
       And as more time continued to pass, the crowd of people was lessening, until the only people left were those who would have to hear that dreadful, heartbreaking news.

"I'm sorry, but they haven't made it back."

Yuratchka's heart beat rose immensely to an unhealthy pace. He was breathing quickly, heavily and unevenly as his cheeks flushed a deepening crimson; you could hear his distress in his worrying gasps for air.
       For once, nobody averted their concerned gazes to him. He, very briefly, supposed they has worse things to be focusing on. And so would he, now the time had inevitably come... But he refused to face it.
       A tall man began to approach him, not knowing a thing about Yuri, but preparing to rehearse that one line to him that he sure as hell did not want to meet his ears.
       As he got closer, Yuri backed up, sliding his hands out of his pockets as streams of tears began to race down his soft, smooth cheeks.

"It's alright, boy..." The man tried to say sympathetically, but nothing was going to stop Yuri from leaving this place. The emerald-eyed boy turned away and began to run. He was running so fast he paid not one ounce of attention to the human behind him, and his incoherent yells of, "Wait, boy! Come back!"

. . . . . . .

By the time he'd reached his front door, Yuri was at a conplete loss of breath and his face was now a burning red. He was about to collapse from running all that distance.
       Yuri understood he couldn't avoid hearing the news that way forever, but he'd swiftly decided he wasn't ready to now.
       He pushed all his weight onto the door handle as he opened it and stumbled into the house. Beneath him was a letter. It wasn't the one he'd been reading almost twice a day, it was new. His crying came to a halt, alongside his heavy breathing and struggling with the buttons on his coat. And slowly, he reached down and picked up the envelope, leaving his black, fur gloves on.
       Closing his eyes gently, he removed the letter itself from the sleeve and held it out, before finally revealing the memorable handwriting to himself and reading.

November 12th, 1915

Dear Yuri,

I take it you've realised, or may have been told the news. Or perhaps you don't want to hear it; I understand why.

If your reading this letter, well... That means I didn't make it back to you. And I'd like to apologise. I'm sorry I couldn't meet you, and that I couldn't be there for you today, when you may feel you needed me most.

I wish I could take all your pain away, Yuratchka. I really, really do.

Now I'm gone, I want you to know a few things. And never forget or doubt them, okay? Because, no matter what other people believe, you are beautiful. I've always thought that about you, even before I saw your pretty face for the first time. And you need to keep on, whether this is making you cry or not. You are a strong person Yuri, you've made it this far. So please remember, I'm so proud of you, and I love you so much.

From, Otabek.

Xxxxxxxxx

The blonde stood there in tears. He tried to take deep breaths but they only made him want to cry more. In fact, he was wailing. The letter remained in his shaking grasp for minutes, until he just dropped to the floor.

He had no strength as he stared at the paper, stuttering one last thing.

"I-I love y-y-y-you..."

A/N: Here's the alternate ending I considered :) I really hope you enjoy this chapter and thank you so much for 6k reads on this book!