Archive of Our Own ^beta

“I cannot even begin to explain how this will go terribly wrong.”

Phichit is grinning, all teeth and tight crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

“It’ll be just for one night. Seung-Gil is busy – personal reasons, happens to all of us, he’ll be back next week – and we just need someone to come in, take a few calls and play a few songs,” Phichit fires off in rapid succession, not missing a beat.

Yuuri turns his face towards the steaming pork cutlet bowl in front of him, its deliciously enticing smell wafting into his nose like a gentle caress that whispers ‘your best friend Phichit bought me, so can’t you return this teeny-tiny favor?’. He squares his jaw and takes a long sip of his water instead.

“Can’t you just cancel the show? Or ask one of your other radio hosts to fill in? Why me? I don’t – I’m not – I can’t just sit there and talk until three in the morning,” Yuuri explains. Really it should be obvious that Yuuri is the worse person to run a radio show. He doesn’t even like to hear himself talk at times, why would random strangers tune in to listen to him, especially when he’s not the usual host that delivers dry, snarky advice?

Phichit gasps at him, like Yuuri suggested they perform a human sacrifice instead to appease the late-night listeners of the college radio station.

“We can’t just cancel the show. Who is going to get their late-night advice?” he asks with a whine. Yuuri groans.

“But why me?” Yuuri repeats.

“Cause you got a voice for radio!”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

Yuuri scrunches his face, not swayed. “Why don’t you do it? Between the two of us, you’re the one with a personality suited for radio,” Yuuri points out. Phichit smiles like it’s a compliment – which it kind of is – and runs his finger along the mouth of his beer bottle.

“I run the website. I’d like to, but I don’t think my voice would be suited for easy going, late-night listening.”

Yuuri is quiet for a moment, then, “So you’re saying I have a voice that could put you to sleep.”

Phichit’s eyes roll back so far that Yuuri thinks they’re going to pop out of his head. “Oh my god, no. I’m saying that your voice is relaxing. It’s not all in your face like mine is! Which is why you will be perfect for the show!"

Yuuri feels his mouth watering the longer he inhales the smell of pork cutlet bowl beneath his nose. He knows Phichit can see his resolve crumbling, curses him for taking advantage of Yuuri when he’s desperately trying to keep in decent shape and has been eating like a rabbit for the last two weeks and god, this pork cutlet bowl is calling him. 

“Look, I don’t want to force you into doing it,” Phichit brings up, genuine concern warming his voice. Yuuri knows that. He knows that Phichit won’t step over a line Yuuri has drawn. He also knows that Phichit will never ask Yuuri to do something he didn’t think Yuuri can do.

“If you lose listeners because of me being super boring – which I am, don’t try and say otherwise –” Yuuri interrupts before Phichit can open his mouth, “just know I warned you. It’s going to be a disaster.”

Yuuri’s teeth bite through a thick cut of pork and he moans. Diets be damned.

Phichit gives a shrug and nods his head, already knowing that he has won the battle.

“I’m sure everyone is going to love you. You have a charm about you, Yuuri,” Phichit butters up. Yuuri stuffs bite after bite of rice and meat and egg until his cheeks protrude out like a chipmunk trying to store nuts for the winter.

He snorts through his nose at Phichit’s words; yes, he is the picture of enticing charm.

“If I do this, you owe me,” Yuuri says after he swallows his food down his throat. He doesn’t know what he’s going to need the favor from Phichit for, but he’s sure that he’ll think of something in between procrastinating physics and going delirious over calculus.

Phichit nods his head again, smile still on his face.

“You have my word,” he says. Phichit then raises his fist up, knuckles facing Yuuri. There’s little hesitance before Yuuri raises his own fist and bumps his knuckles against Phichit’s.

Phichit pulls his fist back, whistling the explosion noise through his broad grin. In spite of himself, Yuuri does the same.

Yuuri reads over the topic list for Friday night’s broadcast for approximately ten seconds before he blurts out, “Does Seung-Gil really talk about this stuff?" 

Sara nods her head, crossing her arms over her chest. “People have a lot of sex and relationship problems on this campus, Yuuri,” she answers with a sweet smile.

Yuuri’s not a prude – he’s had his fair share of handjobs and frisks with men and women at sloppy frat parties Phichit drags him to. But he doesn’t see the appeal of broadcasting how people like to have sex for other people to hear. In Yuuri’s opinion, unless they’re fucking him, it’s no one’s damn business what he’s into.

“They should go see a therapist or someone that already has their degree to handle this kind of stuff,” Yuuri exclaims. He slumps in the oversized DJ chair – it’s comfy at least, something Yuuri won’t mind planting his butt on for a couple of hours – and wets his lips with his tongue. Sara gives him a thumbs up and cheeky wink.

“You’re already starting to sound like Seung-Gil!” Sara compliments.

Yuuri just sighs.

There is fifteen minutes left before the start of the show, which is not enough time for Yuuri to run out of the radio station to take refuge in his dorm room underneath his blankets, nor is there enough time to run and grab a beer (or four) at the bar downtown. It’s a shame, because he really could use a drink.

Sara shows him what buttons he needs to push to take the call, shows him how to play through Seung-Gil’s playlist of mellow indie music that Yuuri has never heard of and doubts he will remember past tonight, and fetches him a Monster to sip on as if he wasn’t already twitching enough in his seat.

“I’m going to screen the callers for you, okay? All you have to do is ask them their name and what they want to say, listen to them, make a witty observation if you want, thank them and move on. Easy as pie,” Sara reassures.

Yuuri shrugs, not realizing Sara is already slipping the headphones onto his head. He’s already halfway through his drink and there’s an uncomfortable buzz working its way through his leg and up his spine like an itch he can’t scratch. He sees Sara’s lips moving, mouthing out ‘everything is golng to be fine’, but all Yuuri hears is ‘you’re so going to fuck this up’.

Time flies by way too quickly and before Yuuri knows it, Sara is on the other side of the glass and the red ‘ON AIR’ light flashes bright. Yuuri immediately forgets how to blink, how to speak, and how to breathe all at once.

He clears his throat, then mentally berates himself because that is possibly the worst way to start a radio broadcast, sounding like he’s trying to cough up a lung.

“U-Um, hi.” Scratch that last remark, that is the worst way to start a radio broadcast.

Yuuri rubs his face, pushing his glasses askew. “I mean, good evening everyone. Well. . .if it wasn’t obvious, this isn’t the usual smooth and suave voice of Seung-Gil greeting you. Uh, I’m-” should he use a name? The hosts here don’t have special names aside from Emil, but that’s because his radio show plays out more like a dramatization where he plays a character and Yuuri’s taking too long to speak - fuck it, “I’m Yuuri. I’m just helping out for tonight. Limited time only.”

Sara is giving him two-thumbs up through the window. Yuuri feels like crawling into the nearest molten hot crater in the Earth.

“So – uh – tonight we’ll be talking about ‘things you’d like your partner to tell you to get you in the mood’,” Yuuri reads off from the list trembling in his sweaty grip. He’s supposed to add a little anecdote before he gives the number, but what the hell is he supposed to say??

He pulls his lower lip in between his teeth and tries to keep his groan of embarrassment from slipping past his lips. “Well. . .communication is important in a relationship. Dirty talk can get a little bit fun, I guess. It can also go horribly wrong too, so if you feel your partner is on the latter spectrum, and are one step away from trying to memorize dialogue from porn to spice up your sex life, you can give us a call and – I don’t know, share?”

Yuuri gives himself a mental pat on the back for getting through that spiel without combusting right there on the spot.

He reads off the phone number people can call in with and lists off some sponsors and affiliates of the radio show, before he starts at the top of Seung-Gil’s playlist and downs the last bit of energy drink remaining in the can. Sara is still giving him the thumbs up, still smiling at him like Yuuri is doing a great job.

Yuuri acknowledges this with a friendly aversion of his eyes to stare up at the ceiling and guess how much longer he has to go.

They take a few calls in between two or three songs from Seung-Gil’s playlist that, when Yuuri listens, is actually pretty fucking depressing and makes Yuuri concerned about Seung-Gil’s mental wellbeing while he’s doing the radio show. The callers are friendly at least, which is a plus, and some of them seem just as awkward about talking about their sex problems on air as Yuuri does commentating on it. If he’s lucky, some callers respond to previous discussions with their own advice and words phrased in a way that is more helpful than Yuuri’s ‘hmm, I see, okay, uh’ dialogue he’s been falling back on during the show.

Still, it’s kind of fun listening to people talk and chat with them while Sara loads him up on energy drinks and hot espresso. It’s probably the caffeine charging through Yuuri’s body that’s making everything seem more electric and exciting. Probably.

“Okay everyone, we’re just about to wrap it up for the night but let’s see if we can take one more caller,” Yuuri chatters while the sugar levels in his blood rocket out of the atmosphere. He looks up at Sara, who gives him a nod and puts one more person through to Yuuri.

“Good evening – or morning, I guess. Whatever – last caller. What’s your name?” Yuuri asks.

“Makka,” the voice responds in a slur.

Yuuri blinks. “. . .Makka,” he repeats in disbelief. Fake sounding name, but a very very very sexy sounding voice. There’s a faint accent Yuuri hears in his voice, maybe Russian? Yuuri can’t quite place it. But it’s rich and smooth and gives a tingle in Yuuri’s bones that’s not like the sugar rush jitters or anxious trembles he’s been experiencing all night.

Yuuri doesn’t comment on that aspect, however.

He rolls his shoulders and rests his cheek in the palm of his hand. “Okay then, Makka. What kind of things do you wish your partner would say to you to get you in the mood?”

“Actually, I’m curious as to what your partner says to you, Yuuri~”

Yuuri blinks. What?

He looks to Sara, who is blinking at him with wide eyes just as confused, then back at his microphone.

“Uh. I don’t have a partner at the moment,” Yuuri explains, not sure where this conversation is going or if he wants to continue with it. ‘Makka’ hums, thoughtful.

“You know what I’d call you if I was your partner, Yuuri?”

“Um, I don’t think I want to-”

“You’d be my cute medvezhonok that I can just cuddle with all day,” ‘Makka’ drawls, voice tapering off at the end into a muffled noise like he’s pressing his lips against the speaking end of the phone in a sloppy kiss. Shortly after, he hiccups and Yuuri suddenly understands.

“Um, ‘Makka’ are you drunk by any chance?”

“Nahhhh. But I think you’re really cute. You sound really cute. Do people tell you you’re cute, Yuuri?” ‘Makka’ breathes and hiccups again. Sara is motioning ‘cut it off’ and Yuuri gestures with his hands and his wide confused eyes ‘how???’. While they’re doing this, ‘Makka’ begins to slur Yuuri’s name against the phone in a drunken mantra.

“No, I – um – no, not really?” Yuuri answers to get him to stop. His face is beginning to grow uncomfortably hot, the dredges of crashing now beginning to build behind his eyes.

“Your voice is so nice~ Yuuri, do you – hic – do you think my voice is nice?”

“I – I’m sure I’d like it even more when you’re not drunk. Um, how about you call back next week and I’ll give you my answer then?” Yuuri responds. He feels a little bit guilty for pushing this onto Seung-Gil, but Seung-Gil probably has dealt with his share of drunk callers and knows how to put an end to them more efficiently than Yuuri currently is.

His finger hovers over the ‘end call’ button, briefly wondering if it will be rude if he just disconnects right there before this caller says something they both are going to regret. ‘Makka’ whines, then huffs, then burps. Yuuri winces at the noise.

“Okaaaaaaay~ but you – hic – you gotta promise me, okay? I’m gonna take you out to do some karaoke, Yuuri. We’ll get drinks and sing and it’s going to be – hic – it’s going to be awesome.”

“Um, I can’t wait?”

It’s like he can hear the other man’s smile when he says in earnest, “Me too.”

Yuuri quickly closes the line.

Yuuri is silent for a moment and stares at the button he’s just pushed, then remembers that he’s still on air and jumps in his seat.

“U-Um, I – that was. . .uh. Interesting. Well. That’s it for Late-Night Talks and it was nice to be your host for the evening. Seung-Gil will be back next week so until then, have a nice evening and. . .I don’t know, be a responsible drinker?”

He sees out of the corner of his eye Sara trying to cover her smile, while Yuuri drops his face into his hands and quietly groans at how stupid that sounded.

The red light goes off a split second after he stops talking, and Sara comes inside the booth with a grin still stretched out over her face.

“That was. . .good,” she says, tilting her head from side to side. “Sorry about that last one. He didn’t sound as bad when he spoke to me. Usually, I’m good at picking up the drunk flirts that hit on Seung-Gil.”

“Does that happen a lot?” Yuuri asks, slipping off the headphones. Sara nods her head.

“Tons. We’ve already filled up our blocked numbers book, though most of them are from people Yuri Plisetsky keeps picking fights with over his radio show,” Sara says with a shrug of her shoulders. She clasps her hands together and giggles. “But you did great, Yuuri!”

“I hope you don’t have any angry callers tomorrow complaining about how I did,” Yuuri groans, already feeling an ache in his bones and mentally grading his performance as an incompetent college radio host. Sara clicks her tongue and gives a wave of her hand.

“No way. We actually had a lot more callers than usual nights,” Sara points out. Yuuri doesn’t think much of that. People love to hear themselves talk. Tonight is not any different just because he’s the one behind the mic.

Sara stretches her arms over her head and rocks forward to the toes of her pink flats. “Well, great work tonight, but it’s time to catch some ‘zzz’s,” Sara says with a yawn. Yuuri wishes he can say the same, but the more likely result will be him lying in bed watching Netflix underneath his bedsheets while the sugar and caffeine works its way out of his system and he becomes an empty shell of a man.

Yuuri rubs the sleep from his eyes anyways. “Yeah, sounds good.”

Sara smiles. “Will we see you again around here?”

Yuuri snorts. “Not in a million years.”

A million years is actually three days later, apparently. 

“He quit?” Yuuri asks over an open textbook and physics notes borrowed from Yuko. Phichit gives a shrug of his shoulders, face aglow from the light of his MacBook Pro open in front of him.

“I wouldn’t say quit. It’s more like ‘a polite demand to move to a different time slot’. . .and also change his show entirely,” Phichit explains. The confusion on Yuuri’s face and how this involves him must be obvious, since Phichit gives a sigh and steeps his hands in front of him.

“Okay, so Seung-Gil thinks that Late-Night Talks is a waste of radio play if all we’re going to be talking about is irrelevant topics. Since he’s studying to be an engineer and not a therapist, he shouldn’t have to subjugate himself to talking about pop culture topics when they could be talking about topics that requires the use of more than one brain cell to discuss. . .his words, not mine.”

“Harsh words,” Yuuri muses.

“I know right?” Phichit exclaims and rolls his eyes. He slouches in the wicker chair outside the campus coffee shop and huffs. “But whatever, Celestino gave him the okay and he’s going to get a new show on Wednesday evenings to educate our allegedly ignorant masses since it fits in with his schedule,” Phichit explains. Yuuri hums, reaching for his tea to take a quick sip.

“So what’s going to happen to the old timeslot?” Yuuri asks. Phichit’s attitude does a 180 from mildly pissed to greatly pleased. The smile that stretches over his lips spells nothing but trouble for Yuuri, and he regrets opening his mouth to ask.

“Well, Celestino also heard your work with Late-Night Talks, and our website spiked after your broadcast. People liked it. People liked you,” Phichit says with a shit-eating grin.

Yuuri gnaws around his green straw, averting his eyes to Yuko’s curly handwriting. “Yeah and?”

“And? Yuuri, you were great! So great, Celestino is totally cool with you taking over the show on my recommendation!” Phichit announces.

Yuuri manages to spit his tea all over Yuko’s notes instead of Phichit’s ecstatic expression. When he chokes out his three coughs and tries to gather up the pages with ink running and bleeding through the paper - yep, there’s no way in saving these notes - he turns to Phichit and gapes.

“I don't – why? Y-You have other hosts right? People that are better than me on the radio? I mean, I was a mess – I just – this is a really bad idea-”

“Yuuri, take a breath for a second,” Phichit says, hands rising to chest level. Yuuri blinks, then inhales through his nose, holds, and exhales through his mouth slowly. They both take in a couple of deep breaths, a steady pull and push of air and a slow melt of tension washing off Yuuri’s shoulders.

When Yuuri exhales a sigh at last, Phichit scoots in closer with his MacBook resting on his lap. “Yuuri, you weren’t a mess. You were nice and you were funny and lots of people preferred your attitude compared to Seung-Gil’s,” Phichit reassures. Yuuri’s eyebrows turn downwards without him realizing it.

“. . .You’re serious?”

Phichit runs a loving hand over the edge of his MacBook. “If you don’t believe me, I got the station’s inbox open and can show you the receipts,” Phichit says with a waggle of his eyebrows. Yuuri bites his lower lip.

It’s too hard to believe that Phichit will create a bunch of fake email accounts to send in positive messages to stroke Yuuri’s ego. Maybe not so hard to believe that Phichit blackmailed a couple of people with embarrassing Facebook photos to listen and send in their response. Still, Yuuri gives an unsure tilt of his head and wrings the bottom of his shirt with his hands.

“So. . .you really want me to be the new host?” Yuuri asks.

“Well, I’d prefer it if you want to be the new host,” Phichit says. “I mean, I listened to the broadcast too. It sounded like you had fun.”

Yuuri bites the inside of his cheek. Sure, Yuuri had a little bit of fun. But that’s not the point here.

“What if it doesn’t work out?” Yuuri asks. Phichit taps his finger to his chin; it’s obvious Phichit hasn’t thought that far ahead. Eventually, he gives a shrug of his shoulders.

“Then I guess we’ll have no choice but to find another host. But I mean, you don’t really have anything to lose?” Phichit says with a wink.

Yuuri hums. That’s true. He still has his job at the student store and this show is only Friday nights, so it’s not like he’s going to be out of money if he does happen to get fired. Plus, he’s familiar with Celestino and the other radio staff, since he usually spends his time at the station to study due to their comfier chairs and better Wi-Fi. And, okay, he admits that he does like watching the radio hosts go to work with their own segments and he did have fun hosting Friday night. . .

He sighs. “If I do the show-”

“Thank you.” Phichit is giving him a stupidly cheesy grin.

“I said if,” Yuuri reiterates, but it’s really pointless when they both know the outcome of this conversation already. “Can I pick the topics to talk about? And a playlist that not dark and moody?”

Phichit gives him a thumbs up. “Yeah! I mean, it’s your show. You can do whatever you want. . .I mean, you can almost do whatever you want. Actually, you should probably talk with one of the radio heads about topics you want to do and get the okay from them. Christophe already got chewed out for one of his ‘Thirsty Thursday’ segments being too raunchy for radio and we don’t want a repeat so soon.”

Yuuri flushes red. “Don’t worry, I’ll steer clear of that,” Yuuri states.

“So you are doing it.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes and gathers Yuko’s tea-stained and ruined notes into his hands.

“Yeah, I guess I’ll do it,” Yuuri mutters. He still thinks this is a bad idea. Nothing will convince him that this isn’t a bad idea. But it could be fun. Maybe. Probably.

“Um, hi again,” Yuuri says into the microphone Friday night. He wonders if that’s just how he’s going to greet the listeners – his listeners now, god – and takes a quick drink from his bottled tea, requested by him so he’s not steamrolling through this show powered by sugar. 

“So, it’s – uh – it’s Yuuri. . .again. I know I said that me hosting was a ‘one time only thing’, but it’s not. So, um, you’re stuck with me until I graduate. Or until they fire me. Whatever happens first,” Yuuri rambles.

He doesn’t mean to make his facepalm audible, but the heavy smack of his hand against his forehead sounds loud. Yuuri doesn’t know if he should ignore it, apologize, or just start playing music so he can get his shit together in the meantime.

Sara raises her hand to the glass before he can come to a conclusion, signaling that they already have a caller. Yuuri blinks; he hasn’t even gotten to what was the topic of the night is, or announced that the lines are even open. Wordlessly, he reaches over to push the button and accepts the call.

Yuuri expects it’s someone calling to chew him out for replacing Seung-Gil, and the apology is at the front of his mind and at the back of tongue as he answers with an unsure, “Um, and we already have a caller. Your name?”

“Uh, hey. It’s me.”

Yuuri freezes in his chair. “. . .’Makka’?”

The guy groans; Yuuri barely catches him mumbling something along the lines of ‘I’m such an idiot’ before he continues.

“Yeah, that’s. . .that’s me. I mean, that wasn’t me. Last week. I was drunk and my friend informed me the next day that I acted like a total tool and a creep and I wanted to apologize.”

“Oh,” Yuuri starts, folding his hands over his lap. “It’s alright. I mean, yeah I got a little weirded out, but it’s cool. Stupid stuff happens when you get drunk,” Yuuri says, wincing as the images of him at Christophe’s New Year’s Eve party - half naked with an empty bottle of champagne in one hand and working himself onto a stripper pole with the other - flicker through his mind like soldier flashing back to their time in the war.

“Yeah, but I just. . .it’s weird having someone you don’t know hit on you and it was your first night. I’m glad that you’re back tonight so I could say I’m sorry and it won’t happen again,” the caller explains. He sounds so genuine, and his words aren’t slurring together with hiccups dotting the diction. When Yuuri listens to his voice now, he finds that it’s even more attractive sober than drunk, and purrs down Yuuri’s spine in the same fashion.

“It’s okay. Thanks for calling to apologize, I appreciate it,” Yuuri says, then laughs. “It’s nothing to beat yourself up over, making a drunk call to a college radio station isn’t that big of an offense.”

Yuuri’s words manage to draw a chuckle from the caller, smooth and rich.

“Yeah, I guess it’s not as bad. I’ve done way worse than drunk calls,” the caller chuckles. “Like, okay, you know how they say you shouldn’t drink Everclear straight, right?”

“Oh Makka,” Yuuri chides with a gentle smile that the caller can’t see. 

“Yeah, I know. I was a total idiot. But I didn’t think it could be that bad. Yuuri, I blacked out. When I woke up, I was on the floor of my ex’s kitchen in only my underwear with a bedsheet draped over me like I was a dead body,” ‘Makka’ takes a moment to give this forlorn sigh, while Yuuri tries to stifle his laughter.

“My best friend had to fill me in on the details, but apparently after I got so wasted, I ran around campus trying to pee on everything like I was my dog, then almost got into a fist fight with a McDonald’s worker when he wouldn’t give me a hundred chicken nuggets for free.” And there it is, Yuuri chokes out a laugh and wheezes into the palm of his hand.

“Oh my god,” Yuuri laughs. He wipes a non-existent tear from the corner of his eye. “Well, I hope this is a lesson to you. Ease off on the drinks, okay? My walks to classes are already long, I don’t want to have to worry about stepping in a puddle made by you.”

The guy gives a dry laugh, but Yuuri knows he’s smiling. “Yeah, okay. I’ll take your word on that one. This will be the last time I make a jackass of myself on your show, scouts honor. You have a good night, Yuuri,” ‘Makka’ says. Yuuri braces himself on his elbows.

“Yeah, you too,” Yuuri says, smiling as he presses the ‘end call’ button. He’s still laughing to himself as he tries to picture a man with a smooth voice and fake name, buck naked with his dick out running around campus. If Yuuri did something like that, Phichit would never let him hear the end of it.

“Um,” Yuuri clears his throat, blinks, and then forgets what he’s supposed to be talking about. He panics for a few seconds and segues into Tomoko Aran’s “I’m in Love” without warning, too late to cut the song off now and try to stammer out just what is he going to talk about for a topic or what is he playing or what the fuck he’s doing right now.

He hasn’t been on the air for a full ten minutes and he’s already screwing up. They’re going to pull the plug, fire Yuuri, and Phichit is going to get yelled at too because he said Yuuri could do it when he can’t and Yuuri hates dragging people down with him when he screws up-

“Yuuri?”

Yuuri looks up, seeing Sara with a bottle of water in her hands and offering it forward. He takes it and chugs half of it down his throat. It spills a little bit over his lap too, because that’s how much of a mess he currently is.

“So, is the topic of the night going to be ‘your funniest blackout drunk story’? Because I have like six people on the line that say their drunk story is way worse than that other guy’s and really want to share,” Sara explains.

When Yuuri finally looks down at the sheet of paper he’s supposed to be referencing, he sees that the topic approved by Ketty is ‘best places in town for a first date’. If someone calls in with a blackout drunk story that happened on their first date, maybe he could make it work???

Sara waves her hand in front of Yuuri’s face when he starts to zone out and think about how this night is already ruined and he’s possibly the worst radio host in the history of college radio.

“It’s going good, Yuuri. Just relax. Take a breath, drink some water,” Sara lists off and rests her hands on Yuuri’s shoulders. “You were great with that other guy! Just do the exact same thing for the next couple of callers, okay?”

Yuuri dumbly nods his head, because that’s all his brain will allow him to do. It’s not like he even did much with that other caller; Yuuri was moreso a passive listener than actively engaging in the conversation. Sara gives him a thumbs up and a wink as she walks backwards out of the radio booth. Yuuri sips his water and tries to calm his nerves.

He plays two more songs from Tomoko Aran after the first one fades away, and tries to rehearse the dialogue he’s going to say to the listeners so he doesn’t sound too incompetent. Briefly, Yuuri wonders if the first caller is still listening, or if he’s gone now that he said his apology. Yuuri wonders what the guy is doing now, if he’s gone to bed or if he’s doing some schoolwork while music plays softly over the radio. It’s weird thinking about someone tuning in to the show in the random chance that Yuuri might have been back. This. . .this feeling sitting at the bottom of Yuuri’s gut is. . .weird.

The music eventually fades away to silence that Yuuri is quick to replace with the crinkling of paper as he goes back on air.

“Okay, so I’ll play some more music after I take a couple of calls. . .uh, that was Tomoko Aran, by the way. She’s pretty good. I mean, she’s pretty old but, you know, it’s relaxing and. . .late night aesthetic? I’m – I’m going to shut up now and take a call. Yeah, I’ll just –” Yuuri pushes the button and drinks down another flurry of water. “Caller, you’re on.”

“Uh hello?” a voice that Yuuri can only describe as ‘frat boy’ starts, “Yeah, this is JJ and I have the craziest blackout drunk story, bro.”

Yuuri closes his eyes and steeps his fingers. It’s going to be a long night.

Next week’s show starts off significantly better. Yuuri thinks it’s because this time, he takes a hit of bourbon from a bottle he smuggled into the studio with him when Sara isn’t looking. 

“Hey everybody, it’s Yuuri again. Welcome to Late-Night Talks,” Yuuri introduces, rubbing his eyes and letting the taste of alcohol sit on his tongue for a beat. “So, last week got a little bit out of hand with the whole drunk story thing – which reminds me, Lyft is offering twenty percent off all rides from the football game tomorrow. So, feel free to get drunk, but not too drunk. . .that was really bad. Don’t listen to my advice.”

Hmm, maybe going in buzzed isn’t the brightest idea Yuuri’s had.

Sara motions that they have a caller waiting. Yuuri doesn’t hesitate to answer it.

“Good evening, caller,” Yuuri says into the microphone.

“Good evening, Yuuri,” the mysterious sexy voice answers.

“You know, you should probably wait until I state what the topic for tonight is going to be before you call in,” Yuuri says with a smile. Not that he’s mad or anything, just that he doesn’t want to accidentally get stuck listening to twenty people trying to one up each other on how much of an idiot they (or a friend, or a friend of a friend) is when drunk off their asses.

The caller chuckles that warm laugh that gets Yuuri feeling all tingly. “Oh, sorry.”

“It’s alright. It just means that now, you’re the first person to give your opinion on the topic of the night,” Yuuri says as he glances down at his paper neatly placed in front of him and not being crushed in his sweaty fists.

“Which is?”

“Worst thing you ever ate. Like on a scale of one to ten, this food should be a zero.”

The caller gives an intrigued hum. Yuuri feels a little bit relieved; he’s been wracking his brain to think of an interesting topic that’s as riveting as a funny drunk story and was this close to just saying he’s going to leave the line open and make it a free-for-all.

“Cottage cheese. It tastes just as bad as it looks,” the caller says after a beat, and makes an obnoxious gagging noise. Yuuri laughs, resting his cheek in his palm.

“What about with peaches?”

“No, I can’t get past the look of it. It looks like throw up, Yuuri. Like baby throw up. Just. . .ick.”

Yuuri doesn’t know why, but he thinks he can listen to this guy’s picky eating habits all night long.

Yuuri lets out a breathy chuckle and readies the night’s playlist. “Okay, fair enough. Cottage cheese – otherwise known as ‘baby throw up’ – is now considered the worst food you could ever eat. We’ll play three songs and take a few calls afterwards. But thanks for starting off the night with a strong contender, Makka.”

“Yeah,” the caller says, “glad to be of help!”

Yuuri smiles. He doesn’t want to end the call just there, but time is starting to burn – and now that Yuuri realizes it, time moves very quickly in the radio booth. Quicker than it did on his first night stumbling through.

He pushes the ‘end call’ button and starts off the night with Junko Ohashi’s “Telophone Number”.

On Yuuri’s first night, he learned that there is a community of sexually awkward listeners unsure about how to talk dirty. 

On Yuuri’s second night, he learned that there is a community of listeners that should probably attend an AA meeting or get themselves a permanent designated driver.

And now on his third night, Yuuri learns there is a community of ‘fuck that first guy, cottage cheese is delicious and I will personally fight you’ listeners.

The topic of the night that gets discussed in between plays of Junko Yagami’s “1984” and Tatsuro Yamashita’s “Magic Ways” is still ‘worst thing you ever ate’, but now there seems to be a mini heated debate between people who love cottage cheese and suggest another food to take its place as the worst food you could ever eat, and people who agree with ‘Makka’ and say that it’s baby throw up.

Yuuri knows that if Seung-Gil had to listen to people argue over something as utterly pointless as cottage cheese, he probably would have ended the show and gave up on the future of humanity.

“Okay guys, time is just about up,” Yuuri says after he gets off the line with a cottage cheese lover that suggested olives be considered the ‘worst thing you could ever eat’. Yuuri doesn’t agree with it; bell peppers are significantly more disgusting than olives, but this isn’t about him.

He takes a quick glance to Sara, who has one finger raised and he nods his head. “We have one more call waiting before we sign off,” Yuuri announces and Sara puts the call through ‘on air’. “Hello, what’s your name and are you a cottage cheese sympathizer?”

“Hey, it’s me again.”

The smile breaks out over Yuuri’s lips before he realizes it. “The man who started all the discourse tonight himself,” Yuuri says with a laugh. The caller laughs too and man, it’s such a nice laugh. It might be the three am exhaustion talking, but Yuuri likes hearing the guy laugh.

“Sorry about that. I didn’t know you’d get this many people trying to squash my opinion.”

“It’s alright. It’s what makes this show fun,” Yuuri says. He’s having fun. He’s having a lot of fun. Phichit is going to give him ‘I told you so’ eyes when he heads back to the dorm. But, he pushes that thought off to the side for now. “Are you going to take back your nomination of cottage cheese being the worst thing you ate?”

“Nope, it’s still awful,” the guy says. There’s a rustle of papers that Yuuri can faintly hear, and Yuuri wonders if the guy is sitting at a desk right now with paperwork sprawled out in front of him, listening to Yuuri talk. “I was actually wondering, how come you don’t have a sign off message?” the caller asks.

“. . .Huh?”

“I mean, okay, like how Christophe always ends his show with ‘stay classy, you dirty animals’ or Mila ends her show with a weird fact? I was just wondering what’s your sign off message is?”

Yuuri leans back in his chair, adjusting his headphones. He sighs a quiet hiss through his teeth and pulls his lower lip in between his teeth.

“I don’t know. I never thought of it. Did Seung-Gil have one?”

“Not that I know of. The first time that I listened to the show was when you were hosting,” the caller says. “You can say that I’ve become a fan since.”

Yuuri’s glad this is radio, because he’s turning the shade of a fucking tomato.

“U-Um, thanks. Uh. . .well. . .what should my sign off message be?” Yuuri asks.

“I don’t know. . .how about. . .a goodnight message maybe?”

“To who?”

“Anyone. Just pick someone. Like your parents, or your roommate, or a professor, or maybe a lover-”

“Okay, I get it. I’m going to stop you right there,” Yuuri cuts off. He closes his eyes, tapping his foot. A goodnight message? He could say goodnight to Phichit, but Phichit’s on his ‘not-date’ with Seung-Gil researching for his Wednesday show, so he’s probably not listening tonight. Yuuri’s parents aren’t listening to the radio either, and Yuuri thanks the stars above that they aren’t. No professors he wants to say goodnight to, definitely not any lovers.

Yuuri hums. “What’s your dog’s name?” he asks suddenly.

There’s a brief silence; Yuuri wonders for a moment if the guy hung up while Yuuri was thinking. But soon, he hears a quiet – and strangely embarrassed – mumble of the name “Makkachin”.

It takes Yuuri a beat before it clicks.

“You mean you-”

“I was drunk, Yuuri~” the caller whines. Yuuri laughs, strangely finding this all the more endearing, all the more human and relatable, and draws him closer to the voice and idea of the person talking on the other line. “He’s a poodle. Really cute. I see him every weekend at my mother’s place since my apartment building doesn’t allow pets, which really sucks.”

“That does suck,” Yuuri says with a hum. “Well, what’s your name then? So I don’t have to picture a cute poodle talking to me when you call.”

The guy chuckles and it tickles Yuuri’s ears.

“Victor.”

Victor.

Yuuri can work with ‘Victor’.

“Okay then. Well Victor, I’m going to wish you, Makkachin and your mom a goodnight’s sleep.”

Victor chuckles again, and it works up Yuuri’s spine in slow waves.

“Goodnight to you too, Yuuri.”

“Christophe has a friend named Victor,” Leo points out to Yuuri while he arranges the notebooks on the shelf into neat piles for the lunch rush that will mess them all up again. 

Christophe’s voice is currently floating over the speakers inside the student store now. It’s Thursday, which means it’s ‘Thirsty Thursday’ where Christophe makes tea recommendations and kinkshames Tweets submitted to him by fellow listeners. Later on in the evening is Yuri Plisetky’s ‘Shut Up and Listen’, where Yuri talks about things that annoy him and the broadcast draws in asshole callers like a lightbulb attracts flies.

It’s a weird pairing, but since they both deal with ragging on people, it somehow works.

Yuuri continues to unpack the different Lays flavored potato chips to stock. “Really?” he asks, his eyes moving over each bag and wondering which one he’ll have for lunch in a few hours.

“Yeah. Apparently, he’s pretty good-looking. Like, he’s the kind of guy that never goes home alone,” Leo says.

“Then it’s not the same Victor,” Yuuri says. There’s a tightness in his stomach that appears at Leo’s words, but thinks it’s just hunger. Definitely hunger. Nothing more.

“It could be,” Leo says with a shrug, and Yuuri gives a laugh that’s on the dry side.

“No way. The Victor that calls into my show is a dork. There’s no way he’s some suave playboy. What suave playboy would admit on the radio that he got so drunk on Everclear, he pissed on everything he saw?” Yuuri asks. Leo snorts and Yuuri does too, because that’s still the funniest drunk story they’ve heard so far.

“I don’t know, maybe he doesn't have any shame?” Leo suggests. Yuuri shakes his head in denial.

“It’s not my Victor.”

A brief pause, then out of the corner of his eye he sees Leo smirk.

“Your Victor, huh?”

Yuuri tries to will the blush he feels building under his skin away. “I mean – he’s my fan. Like that kind of ‘my Victor’. My fan Victor. Victor, who is my fan. Nothing else. Just a fan that I’ve never met and probably never will.”

For some reason, that last sentence leaves a sting on Yuuri’s tongue when he says it. His shoulders feel a little bit heavier when it leaves his lips. Yuuri focuses his attention back on stocking chips, trying not to think too hard about it. “Don’t tell Phichit. He’s going to make it a thing and I don’t want it to become a thing,” Yuuri warns.

“He probably thinks it's a thing already. I mean, I listen to your broadcast when I’m working on the playlist for ‘Mila Monday’, and you guys sound like you’re flirting to me,” Leo explains. Yuuri’s cheeks are getting warmer and his hands are beginning to tremble.

“We’re not flirting. It’s strictly friendly banter between a radio host and one of his listeners. That’s it.”

Leo shrugs. “Whatever you say, dude,” Leo says in a drawl that makes Yuuri want to debate the issue a little bit more, just so this nagging feeling at the base of his spine can disappear.

“You know, I don’t think I told you this, but I really like the music you play on here,” Victor tells Yuuri the literal second he finishes his opening narration and Sara passes on the call. It was something short and sweet, a quick little PSA that he’s not the same Yuri that does ‘Shut Up and Listen’ – which should have been obvious, but apparently, there’s a few confused listeners in the radio’s forums– and announced the topic of ‘best places in town for a first date’ for tonight’s discussion that he meant to do two weeks ago. 

Apparently, they’re not going to discuss it this night either.

“Really? Well, thanks. I mean, some people have been complaining about the songs not being in English and that it’s crap, but it’s a small minority. Lots of people are turning out at the language center and showing an interest in Japanese, so I think that’s pretty cool,” Yuuri says, then quickly gives a shout out to Yuko and gives her tutoring hours if anyone wants to drop by and strengthen their knowledge of the language.

“I like it. Even though I don’t understand the language, I like the sound,” Victor compliments. Well, liking Yuuri’s old man tastes in music is certainly one way to win points in Yuuri’s heart. But this isn’t flirting. They’re not flirting.

“Actually, I was thinking that since I’m playing different music and have a different format than the old show, I should change the name of it. I mean, I know everyone knows this as Late-Night Talks, but it’s not really Late-Night Talks anymore,” Yuuri says with a sigh. If anything, this show is what it would be if Yik-Yak had the option to make their posts have audio.

“Hmm, true. Would you take suggestions for a new name?”

“Nothing inappropriate. We’re all supposed to be responsible adults here.”

Victor laughs. It’s warms Yuuri to his core and makes his toes curl in his worn-out sneakers.

“It won’t be, promise. But I might have to get back to you on that one.”

Yuuri smiles at the microphone. He wonders if Victor is already trying to think up a perfect name for the show right now.

“Okay, I’ll be waiting to hear back from you,” Yuuri says. His response sounds a little bit breathless, but it’s just because this chamomile tea Christophe recommended yesterday is making him sleepy. That’s it. Totally not flirting.

“Yeah, I can’t wait to talk to you again,” Victor responds back, just as breathy and light.

The conversation gets derailed just as Yuuri expects it to be. 

Well, not really. After “Twilight” by Mai Yamane ends, one caller does suggest the statue in the park downtown as a very romantic spot for a first date. Yuuri greatly appreciates that someone listened to the topic before Victor made his call and changed things up.

The rest of the callers are split amongst three groups. The first group of callers are those that agree with Victor’s appreciation of the music Yuuri is playing and suggest to him and all other listeners some mixes on Soundcloud and artists that have a dreamy chill vibe that Yuuri could play. Yuuri jots down a few tracks that catch his interest, and makes a promise to give them a listen and incorporate them into next week’s playlist if he likes what he hears.

The second group of people agree that the title of the show should be changed since it’s nothing like how Seung-Gil’s old show used to be, but don’t offer up any suggestions as to what the show’s name should be changed to. In other words, the unhelpful bunch that Yuuri passively listens to and responds with ‘okay, thank you’ and ends the call. Sara starts to filter more of these callers out thirty minutes into the show, so he doesn’t have to talk to many of them for long.

The third group are the ones that love the music and make suggestions on what the show should be named. Most of the titles are pretty boring, however, but it makes sense since Yuuri thinks he’s pretty boring compared to Christophe’s saucy dialogue and Yuri’s ‘it’s my show, I can say whatever the fuck I want’ rants. Some are kind of funny, but he knows if he changes the name to High Vibes - because according to the college stoners listening, the music he plays is great to get high to - Celestino is definitely going to have a talk with him.

Victor doesn’t call until the very last minute, when Yuuri is about to close up the lines and maybe text Phichit to ask to put a poll up of the best names Yuuri’s managed to pick out from the suggestions.

“Did you like any of the suggestions submitted?” Yuuri asks when he answers Victor’s call.

“The ‘Nicer than Yuri Plisetsky Show’ had a nice ring to it.”

“It will also get an angry Russian punk ready to spill my blood over the control panel,” Yuuri says. Victor chuckles.

“Well, I was thinking that maybe since you play Japanese songs, it could have something to do with Japan maybe? Like, what do you think? Why do you choose to play this music over other stuff?”

Victor really has a way with getting Yuuri to discuss his feelings and opinions. If anything, maybe he should be the radio host and Yuuri tuning in to listen to his velvety voice.

Yuuri leans back in his chair, turning his head up towards the fluorescent lights flickering above, and thinks for a good pause.

“Well. . .I was born here in America. But my parents and my older sister are immigrants from Japan. My mom was pregnant with me when they left Hasetsu to cash in on the ‘American Dream’; they currently own an inn and hot springs.  We don’t get the chance to see our family in Japan as often as we want, and most of the time we just stick to phone calls and letters to catch up. Like, I’ve only met my grandfather once when I was a kid, and now he’s –” Yuuri bites his tongue.

He’s silent, pulling his lower lip in between his teeth. Yuuri’s lungs feel a little bit tighter. His stomach hurts like a rock is sitting at the base of his gut. When he looks up, he sees Sara looking through the window with slight concern. Yuuri clears his throat, and tries to shake it off.

“U-Um,” it comes out shaky and he sucks in a tight breath to still his trembles, “well. . .you know. I. . .he had a lot of records. Stuff that my dad got and I listen to when I go visit them on the weekends sometimes. My grandfather - he really tried to teach me as much about the Japan that he lived in through the music collection he had. We listened to them all night and. . .I don’t know. I guess this music just reminds me of those nights that I had with him, when I listened to music and looked out the window at the street lamp nearby and just felt at ease. And. . .yeah. . .”

More silence.

“. . .I’m glad you’re sharing this music with us,” Victor says. His voice is quiet and Yuuri feels the rock-like sensation in his gut ooze away and exit through his body in the form of a shuddered-out sigh.

“I. . .yeah. Me too,” Yuuri admits with a smile.

Before Yuuri signs off for the night, he wishes goodnight to his family an ocean away with a barely audible おやすみ.

“You’re thinking about changing the show’s name?” Phichit asks the next day. Yuuri looks up from screen of his MacBook Air, one earbud in his ear currently listening to “Maria My Love”. It’s way too fast for the type of sound that he’s trying to achieve with his show, but Jackie Chan is a familiar name, so he won’t be alienating that many of his listeners. 

He pencils it in as ‘maybe’.

“Yeah. Why, I can’t?” he asks, taking a bite out of his granola bar.

Phichit shakes his head. “If Celestino is fine with it, then go ahead. Actually, the reason why I’m asking is because I got an email from a student account with the subject ‘YUURI’S NEW SHOW NAME – LOVE, VICTOR’.”

Yuuri starts to choke. Beside him, Leo gives a quick couple of slaps to his back to clear his airways.

“I’m not – I just – he’s – I – I’m not naming the show that,” Yuuri stammers.

“No. I mean the subject is ‘Yuuri’s new show name’ dash ‘Love’ comma ‘Victor’,” Phichit clarifies, though he’s wearing a grin that it all forms of cheeky and obnoxious and ‘I know something you don’t~’.

Phichit looks back at his screen. “He suggested the name Hasetsu Nights to be your new show name. Also, he wants to put in a song request for “Limit of Love” by Boy & Bear.”

“I’m not doing song requests,” Yuuri says flatly, then furrows his eyebrows. “Hasetsu Nights?”

“I like it,” Leo says with a shrug. “It’s creative, and it fits in with the style of your show. Like chill and stuff,” Leo grins.

“Yeah, I like it too. I’ll run it by Celestino, but I’m sure he’ll be cool with it,” Phichit says. He scoots in closer towards Yuuri, eyes all a glimmer. “Also, I’m going to forward Victor’s email to yours so that way, you two can maybe chat? Meet each other over some coffee? Plan a cute date that you share all the details with your best friend?”

Yuuri immediately sticks both earbuds to block Phichit’s incessant pestering, frown on his lips and red filling his face. He keeps his eyes focused on the screen, and tries to not make his interest obvious when he types in ‘Boy & Bear’ into Youtube’s search engine.

Victor emails Yuuri a lot. He emails him in the morning just before he heads off to class, and he emails him at night, recapping off his daily activities to Yuuri and ecstatically getting to know about Yuuri’s day. It gets to the point that Yuuri suggests they just text each other, but he can’t say it’s any better because now Victor spams Yuuri’s message app with emojis. Strangely, Yuuri doesn’t mind. 

Yuuri finds out that Victor’s a sociology major, and that he takes more night classes so that way he has his mornings open to tutor French and Russian and earn extra money at the language center. If Victor is not sharing the details of how his neighbors fight like they’re on some overdramatic telenovela, or gushing to Yuuri about something that he saw on his morning run that reminded Victor of the radio host, Victor sends Yuuri pictures of Makkachin. The poodle is just as cute as Yuuri thought, but he can’t help but pay more attention to how Victor is being very careful as to not show his face in any of the pictures. The most Victor Yuuri sees is his jean-clad legs that Makkachin often makes his cushion to sleep on.

It builds curiosity in Yuuri that sits at the base of his spine, flickers when he sees a text message from Victor and swells into a warm dull that blankets Yuuri when he falls asleep and he thinks about Victor for far too long.

>>can I ask u a question?

Yuuri glances up from his textbook when his phone buzzes with the text filling up the screen.

Yuuri pulls the phone into his hands, smiling at Victor’s name.

>sure. What about??

>>what do u look like

>weird question :P

>>is it?

>>im not being creepy for asking am i???

>no. im joking

>>lol

>>just, ive been wrapping my head around it for a while.

>>like when I sit at my desk forcing myself to study and I hear ur voice on the radio, I wonder about what ur face looks like

>>and then when I call in and I hear my voice talking with yours, but I cant visualize ur face, idk its weird to me

>>do u get me??

Yuuri leans back into his chair, forgetting about his homework for the time being.

>no I understand

>take a guess

>>ok

>>brown eyes?

>correct

>>ok!!!

>>beautiful smile?

>that's an objective feature

>>then I say ur smile is beautiful

Yuuri swallows.

>>I bet ur tiny

>why????

>>idk

>>on the radio u just sound like ur small

>im 5”8 im not that small

>how tall are you?

>>5”11

>>but I wish I were taller

>how much taller

>>I want to be six feet

>pft wowwwwww

>> :P

>>ok another guess

>can I guess what you look like?

>>sure

>blond hair?

>>do u like blonds?

>I hear they have a lot of fun

>>pffft

>>its more platinum silver-ish than blond

>how old are you???

>> ;.; not as old as ur implying

>>27

>>I took a break from school to get my shit together

>>don't really think I got it together but im better now than before

>ok

>blue eyes?

>>ding ding!!! Correct!

>>it runs in the family

>>my old man says its what made my mom want to marry him lololol

>did your ex like them too?

>>don't know

>>it was more physical than us getting sentimental about little things like eye colors or noticing little ticks about each other

>>we were both really stupid idk

>>i don't even know what his favorite color is

>oh

>im sorry I didn't mean to bring up bad feelings

>>don't be. Its ok

>>what ur favorite color??

>blue

>>mines gold

>fancy

>>lolololol

>>now I know more about u than my ex

For some reason, Yuuri feels quite pleased.

>you don't know my face tho

>>yeah that's tru

>>do u ever think about us meeting someday?

‘Sometimes’ is what Yuuri texts back, when he really means to say ‘I think about meeting you all the time’.

Victor just texts him back a smile.

Listening to Yuri’s angry, angsty music works up a good sweat. It probably explains why the gym is always so crowded on Thursday nights. 

“Okay, that was ‘STONEFIST’ by Health. If anyone calls with another stupid opinion that I didn’t ask for, I’m cutting you off with another song,” Yuri Plisetsky’s voice growls out over the microphone and into Yuuri’s ear. Yuuri sighs through his nose at his tone, keeping his pace on the treadmill since ha, he’s gained a few pounds this past month and now he has to get back in shape. His parents love to feed him on weekends and who is Yuuri to turn down a delicious home-cooked meal?

He takes the towel around his neck to dab at his sweaty face, listening to Yuri continue onto the second thing that has been getting under his skin lately.

“Okay, so I’ve been getting a bunch of morons coming up to me asking if I’m related to other Yuri, just because we have the same name. Like really? Is Tom Hanks and Tom Cruise related because both their names are Tom? Why are people even comparing me to him when I was here first?!”

It sounds like something fell off the desk, since there’s a loud ‘bang!’ and Yuri’s voice sounds more distant.

“Like, just because he’s okay with letting people say whatever the heck they want doesn’t make him the better host. This guy came literally out of nowhere and now he already has a fanbase that’s even more annoying than that frat idiot JJ’s. And fine, some of the music he plays is good, I guess. Whatever. . .it really sucks about what happened with him and his grandpa. Like, I see my grandpa all the time and I couldn’t imagine just meeting him once and. . .”

Yuri is silent for a moment and Yuuri slows down in his pace on the treadmill, listening closely.

Then, there’s a sniffle.

. . .Is he actually. . .

“W-Whatever! That’s stupid! Like, why don’t people get paid more to be able to do the things they want?! Like my shitty manager! He promoted some chick that takes too long breaks, always comes in late so I have to pick up her slack, and she’s so slow when we’re supposed to be the ‘fastest coffee shop in town’! He promoted her, over me. Someone that barely works is getting paid more than me, that is bullshit.”

Yuuri hums to himself. That is bullshit.

There’s a ringing noise in Yuuri’s right ear and a click.

“Uh, hello. Dude, like maybe she has a better personality than you and that’s why she got promoted. Like, customer service is important and all?”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion! And I make better coffee. I at least know what the customer ordered five seconds ago instead of standing around looking stupid! Shut up!”

There’s a click and then heavy metal rage starts to blast in Yuuri’s eardrum without any warning.

Yuuri picks up his pace on the treadmill to the guitar riffs and loud drum beats, the smallest of smiles etching out over his lips.

The next night, after Yuuri has a lengthy discussion with Victor and a few callers over whether reboots are a blessing from childhood or are doomed to be ruined forever by Hollywood, he wishes Yuri Plisetsky a deserved goodnight’s sleep.

Phichit puts up a poll on the radio website. It reads ‘What Do U Think About Yuuri K. from Hasetsu Nights and the Mysterious Caller Victor?’

Seventy-five percent of the listeners said ‘lol they should just f*ck already tbh’.

Where it says extra comments, there’s some people offering to hook the two of them up, as well as a list of hotels that have cheap, clean rooms and don’t ask questions if you just want a room for the night.

Yuuri passive-aggressively tells Phichit to take it down.

“What if Victor saw that?” Yuuri says, trying to not let the embarrassment creep into his throat.

“I bet he would laugh because he sounds like he has a great sense of humor,” Phichit says. Yuuri just feels his cheeks grow warmer as Phichit’s smile grows sly, turning to look over his shoulder at Yuuri looming from behind him. “Do you think that he’ll be interested in going on a date with you?”

Yuuri opens his mouth, closes it, then averts his eyes.

“I – I don’t know. . .” He’s danced around the idea of Victor and ‘dating Victor’, but the thoughts never seem to connect and mend together to form one picture of Yuuri kissing a face that doesn’t yet exist in his mind.

“Hey, there’s nothing more romantic than asking someone out to a date over live radio,” Phichit says with a cheeky grin. Yuuri’s eyes widen.

“Are you crazy? I wouldn’t – that’d be so embarrassing! What if he says ‘no’?! I – no, I’m not – I’m not going to deal with this right now,” Yuuri stammers out in a frustrated hiss through his teeth. He briskly walks out of their dorm room and ignores Phichit’s calls of his name and for him to come back, trying to ignore how loud his heart is beating against his chest and thunders in his eardrums like an erratic beat with no rhythm.

So what if Yuuri managed to get a crush on Victor after talking with him for so long? Nothing is going to come of it. In fact, if Victor wants to meet Yuuri, then he should have suggested it already. Yuuri could have made the same offer, but he ignores that little bit of rationality that is drowning in self-doubt and confusion and ridiculous pining over a voice. He knows Victor has an ex, but he doesn’t know if Victor is currently seeing anyone. He doesn’t know if Victor would even be interested in dating Yuuri. Why would he? Yuuri is boring and plain and just a drag to be around. Victor. . .he’s so eccentric and vibrant, an explosion of sound and energy that crackles through radio static. He’s. . .he has so much personality and Yuuri. . .is no one special to talk to.

. . .What if Victor finds out just how boring Yuuri really is if they meet?

What if Victor eventually starts to drift away towards people like him, extroverts like him to share stories and laughs while Yuuri fades away as just a fond memory?

He doesn’t want that.

He doesn’t want that at all.

“Do you do contests?” 

“The topic of the night is ‘your best pick up line’, Victor. Unless, that’s your pick-up line. In that case, I don’t know how you could get a date with that.”

Victor gives a huff and Yuuri hides his smile behind his hand.

“No – yeah I know the topic for tonight is that. But, I was just thinking that contests are fun. Sportsmanship and all that.”

“Yeah, I guess they’re a little bit of fun,” Yuuri muses, twirling a cord between his fingers. “Do you have a suggestion for a contest and prize, or are you going to tell me your best pick-up line?”

“Actually, that’s the contest right there.”

Victor takes Yuuri’s confused silence as permission to continue. “Okay, like, everyone calls in with their best pick-up line and you choose the best one. Simple as that.”

“What about the prize?”

“Actually, I was hoping you would take care of that part.”

Yuuri sees something move out of the corner of his eye and he looks up. Sara is pressing a piece of paper against the glass with ‘2 FREE MOVIE TIX’ scribbled out in bold Sharpie.

“U-Uh, I guess we’ll offer two tickets to the movies for the winner? There’s a new action movie coming out next Friday too, so if you want to go on our treat, you got to woo me, I guess.” Sara gives Yuuri a thumbs up and Yuuri awkwardly gives her one back.

“Okay. I’ll call back with mine,” Victor says eagerly, and hangs up before Yuuri can say goodbye. Yuuri sighs through his nose and gnaws on his lower lip.

“Well. . .let’s get into some music. Lots of people gave suggestions on last week show and I’m going to use the first hour of the show to play through the ones I liked,” Yuuri states. He leans back into his seat, feeling his skin grow warm in anticipation. “That being said, here’s the first track of the night. ‘Fading’ by Vallis Alps.”

Once the first song ends, Yuuri plays “Counting Stars” by Nujabes, then “Season 2, Episode 3” by Glass Animals, before he takes the first caller. 

The pick-up line is awful.

Yuuri gives a laugh to be polite, but his smile is bland on his face as he takes the next caller after that. Then the next caller after that. Yuuri might as well asked to be told the worst pick-up line and he would get similar results.

Maybe it’s because he’s not really a person that can be swayed with a pick-up line. He’s had people flirt with him at parties and a couple of customers flirt with him at the student store. Most of the time, he’d be either too socially awkward and embarrassed to make a comment and quickly escape out of the flirting situation, or the pick-up line will soar right over his head and he’ll unintentionally reject the person with his bluntness.

There’s no in-between; Yuuri either runs away or doesn’t understand he’s being flirted with. He’s pretty much accepted that his love life is a hopeless venture.

Still, he’s got to pick somebody.

“Is it going to be Victor?” Sara asks while Yuuri is currently playing the last of the suggestions for tonight before he switches back to city pop. She hands him an espresso, her eyebrows raised in intrigue.

“No. Why would I – is that what everyone’s expecting me to do?” Yuuri asks behind the paper rim of his cup. Sara tilts her head from side to side.

“A little bit. I mean, you two flirt with each other every week-”

“We’re not flirting,” Yuuri corrects.

“But you can tell that he’s pretty into you, right?” Sara asks.

Yuuri sips from the cup, trying not to burn his tongue. “It wouldn’t work out between us.”

Sara blinks. “Why not?”

“Because. . .”

“. . .Because?”

“. . . We’ve been talking for a month. He probably has this perception of me, that I’m sexy like Christophe, or outgoing like Mila, or creative like Emil. And. . .and I’m not. I’m just. . .me. . .I still sometimes think that I’m not cut out for this. I still don’t understand why people want to listen to my show and talk with me when I have all the interesting qualities of a wet rag.”

“It’s because you’re funny and you’re nice and you have your own qualities about you that make people want to tune in and listen,” Sara says. “You really brighten up whenever he calls. And I hear it in his voice that he’s really excited to talk to you.”

Yuuri is pensive for a few seconds, before he lets out a sigh. “Well, he still can’t win. That will be so anti-climatic if the guy that suggested we have a contest in the first place is the one that wins,” Yuuri complains.

“What if he really woos you?” Sara suggests. Yuuri shakes his head.

“Nope. I’m not going to give him the tickets,” Yuuri says, glancing over at the laptop. “I’m going to play one more song and then I’ll take a few calls,” Yuuri tells Sara. The girl quirks a smile at him.

“Okay,” she says, and takes her leave back to the other room. She looks over her shoulder at Yuuri as he brings the coffee back to his lips. “By the way, I think he suggested this contest in the first place to try and ask you out,” Sara says with a grin.

In shock, Yuuri burns his mouth.

A few more awful pick-up lines get told as they drift into the second hour; Yuuri plays Mariya Takeuchi’s “Oh No, Oh Yes” while he looks over the current tally marks for pick-up lines. So far, the only pick-up line that he’s thinking about naming the winner was from a guy that is a waiter and used it on his now girlfriend. It was cute and cheesy and there was actual confirmation that the pick-up line worked. Yuuri thinks that it will be fun for them to have a night together at the movies. 

There’s fewer callers than normal, maybe because everyone is expecting Yuuri to give Victor the tickets, so why even bother? He bites the inside of his cheek, twirling his pencil between his fingers.

Should he give Victor the tickets?

No, he’s definitely not going to do that. Besides, going out to the movies for a first date is an awful idea. Sitting in silence for two hours when you’re trying to get to know someone isn’t the best first date. Plus, he doesn’t want to give the idea that Victor is his favorite caller that will always get prizes from Yuuri if they decide to do a contest again. Because he’s not. He’s just a fan. A fan that likes to call Yuuri a lot and they engage in lengthy discussions like every other caller.

Does Yuuri’s face really brighten when Victor calls? He feels his palms get a little bit sweatier when he talks to Victor and hears his voice in his ears. He does feel a tremble in his gut and butterflies in his lungs whenever Victor laughs, but he’s not flirting with him. At least, Yuuri doesn’t think he is. If he is, then wouldn’t that mean that he wants to take this relationship – or whatever this weird bond is they’ve built over time through texts and radio messages - further with Victor?

. . .Does he want a relationship?

Maybe.

Sort of.

He hasn’t gone on a date since he graduated from high school, and now he’s going to be a junior in college. He’s had flings, but nothing that made him want to actually get to know the person past their skills with their mouths and their hands. Victor seems like he’ll be a nice boyfriend. He’ll be a fun boyfriend. They could go on walks together with Makkachin, walking hand in hand. Maybe. Yuuri won’t know unless they actually meet.

. . .

. . .

He’s not sure if he wants Victor to see him.

He’s not sure if he wants Victor to find out who Yuuri truly is.

The song starts to fade out and Yuuri adjusts his headphones, leaning into the microphone. “Okay, we’re almost up. But I should be expecting-” Sara raises her hand and Yuuri nods his head. “Yeah, there he is,” Yuuri hums and accepts the call. “Victor?”

“Yuuri!”

His voice is so full of energy. Yuuri’s heart starts to quicken in his chest. “U-Um, hey. So. . .your pick-up line?” Yuuri stammers.

“Did you like any of the others told to you?”

“I liked one of them.”

“Which one?”

“Not telling. And if you don’t give me a pick-up line in the next minute, they’re going to be the winner,” Yuuri warns. Victor hums, then clicks his tongue.

“Okay, okay. It’s not really a pick-up line, but it’s something I like to talk about as a way of breaking the ice,” Victor starts off with. Yuuri leans forward, mildly intrigued.

“You see, I went to study abroad last year in Barcelona. Beautiful city, lots of sights to see, great food, I loved it. One day, I went outside of Barcelona to go hiking in the foothills of mount Tibidabo. I was at the end of this path, and I came across this clearing, right? There was this lake, very secluded, with tall trees all around. Dead silence. It was gorgeous. And across the lake, I saw a beautiful woman, bathing herself-”

“Oh my god, you stole this story from Friends!” Yuuri accuses with a laugh. Victor immediately begins to laugh too.

“Aw, you got me! How’d you know?”

“It might be because that show is over a decade old, and that it constantly plays on the television in the common room, but I just had a hunch,” Yuuri says. He crosses his arms and smiles bright. “I can’t believe you had the entire night to think of something and that’s what you came up with. Does that even work?”

“It’s a win-win! If you never heard the story before, then you’re already hooked into finding out what happens next. If you have heard the story before and know it’s from Friends, then we can bond over our television knowledge and have a good laugh.”

Yuuri hums and tosses the explanation around in his head. “Okay, I understand. But I’m still going to give caller Dave the tickets since his pick-up line actually produced results,” Yuuri says.

Victor makes this dying whine. “Awwww, Yuuurrriii.”

“Hey, at least his wasn’t from an old television show,” Yuuri chides, trying to visualize what he thinks Victor’s pouting expression looks like.

“. . .But let’s say there wasn’t any contest and I came up to you at a club with that story. You know, like music is playing in the background, people are dancing and having a good time, and you’ve just finished your drink. I sidle up next to you and tell you that story. What would you do?”

Yuuri lets himself be swayed by Victor’s soft voice. “I’d tell you that I’ve heard the story like I told you before,” Yuuri responds.

“And then we’d laugh, right?”

“I guess so.”

“And then I’d buy you a drink-”

“Not Everclear.”

Victor chuckles, and it’s raspy and warm and makes Yuuri shudder out a breath.

“No, not Everclear. Your favorite drink order. I’d properly introduce myself and we’d talk and get to know each other, and then some song comes on. The kind of song that gets people out on the dancefloor in droves. We’d wait though, until the dancefloor clears away so we can both dance together. And. . .I don’t know. . .maybe we’d slow dance. . .I’d worry about stepping on your feet but we’d glide and we’d be in sync and. . .and it’d be nice because I’d get to dance with you. . .cause I like you a lot. . .” Victor murmurs.

Victor’s voice drips with something that makes Yuuri’s throat feels dry, his stomach feels tight and his hands feel all clammy and wet. He pulls his lower lip in between his teeth and twitches uncomfortably in his chair.

“That’s. . .” Yuuri doesn’t have any words. His heart is beating too loudly in his chest, in his ears. Everything is too hot and Yuuri doesn’t know how to deal.

So, he doesn’t deal with it at all.

“That’s – that’s it! Goodnight!” Yuuri quickly stammers and hangs Victor up before the man can say another word.

The ‘On-Air’ light abruptly shuts off, and Yuuri just sits there. He doesn’t register that Sara came into the radio booth, doesn’t hear her voice or understand what she is saying. The sound is nothing but a distant echo in Yuuri’s ears, while Victor’s words ring a little bit louder like a bright hum buzzing in his bones and beneath his skin.

He’s warm, he’s hot. His body feels constricted and tight, yet he feels like he is melting, like his body is nothing but a goo that seeps and trickles with each shuddered out breath that he takes. He doesn’t understand what this state is, this state of mind that is filled with static and his body that doesn’t know whether to flush with embarrassment, or wrack with confusion. To curl inwards to hide, or to stretch out and breathe.

A hand clamps down on his shoulder and Yuuri jumps in his seat again as the headphones get pulled off his head.

“Yuuri! Are you listening to me?” Sara questions. Yuuri feels his mouth tremble and he opens it to speak, but then closes it when all he can do is gape in shock and surprise and wow.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“I. . .” his mouth is dry and his lips feel cracked, “I – I’m fine. I just. . .it’s getting pretty late,” Yuuri manages to choke out. He drops his face into his hands and tries to remember how to breathe. This is all too much to take in.

Sara seems to understand, since the hand on Yuuri’s shoulder eases and gently rubs in small circles.

“Get some sleep, okay?” Sara murmurs, voice barely a whisper.

Yuuri gives a nod of his head, cheeks still red hot and his body still feeling sluggish. “Yeah. . .yeah, okay.”

Sara gives him a thumbs-up.

Yuuri half-heartedly reciprocates.

Yuuri thinks about Victor before he can truly go to sleep that night, which is for far too long. He ends up sleeping until noon, but doesn’t dream about anything. When Yuuri goes to visit his family, he tries to piece together the features of Victor’s face as his mother pushes a pork cutlet bowl in front of him, failing to contribute much of anything to the family conversation around the table. 

Sunday is spent lying in his bed holed up in his dorm room. Phichit doesn't say anything about his attitude; he’s gotten in tune with Yuuri’s emotions to the point that he knows when Yuuri is going through one of these anxious moods, the kind where he just wants to lie in bed because his skin feels like it’s covered in sticky tar that starts to clog his lungs and his limbs feel too heavy to even move.

He brings Yuuri food from the cafeteria, and Yuuri only eats half of his meal that he eventually shoves into the miniature fridge underneath his desk. They watch Netflix and knock out some shows that have been taking up space in Phichit’s queue. Yuuri reads through Phichit’s critical analysis of The Social Network for Intro to Screenwriting, and he listens to the recording of Emil’s newest episode of Anastasis while he curls more under his bedcovers.

“I’m going to go on another ‘not-date’ with Seung-Gil tomorrow, so I’ll be late coming in,” Phichit brings up, switching on his desk lamp when it starts to get dark.

“Ok,” Yuuri murmurs, facing away from Phichit to stare outside their locked window overlooking the quad. He sees the track team currently jogging past their dorm, and two girls walking hand in hand chatting with each other and sipping Starbucks. He’s not really listening to anything, or even paying attention to what’s happening outside his window. All he’s thinking about is Victor Victor Victor.

What if he met Victor? What will he think about Yuuri when he sees him? Will he be what Victor expects him to be? What if they met and Victor doesn’t like what he sees? Or if Victor gets to know Yuuri more outside the menial recap of his daily activities and finds out Yuuri is just boring and uninteresting and nothing like he might have pictured?

There’s a dip in his mattress and Yuuri looks up, seeing Phichit looking down at him with a soft smile.

“. . .Yeah?” Yuuri asks.

Phichit reaches over, pinching a lock of Yuuri’s hair between his fingers.

“Your hair is getting longer,” Phichit observes. Yuuri reaches up to touch at his hair, tousled and messy from staying in bed for far too long.

“Hmm.”

“I know someone at the cosmetology building that can cut it for cheap,” Phichit suggests.

Yuuri says nothing to that, just closes his eyes as Phichit lightly runs fingers through his hair.

“. . .If you never met me, would you want to date me?” Yuuri asks.

“I think I’d have to meet you once if we were going to date,” Phichit says with a little chuckle. Yuuri huffs.

“You know what I mean.”

“Well, you’re nice and all. But you’re not really my type,” Phichit says. He scoots in closer, lying down beside Yuuri with half of his body hanging off the edge of the bed and his right arm obnoxiously flopping against Yuuri’s head.

“Right. Your type is brooding with nice eyebrows,” Yuuri mumbles. Phichit pokes at his side.

“Shut up, he’s such a pain,” Phichit groans, before he looks over Yuuri’s expression with warmth in his eyes. “. . .Are you thinking about Victor?”

“. . .I don’t want to,” Yuuri sighs. He really doesn’t. Victor was someone that Yuuri grew excited to speak to, but now Yuuri doesn’t know if he could even find the right words that he wants to say. Victor was someone that Yuuri thought about maybe once or twice during the week, someone to daydream about when Yuuri’s mind drifted during lectures and labs. He never let his mind stray past that; Victor could never be more than a fan, no more than a voice.

“. . .Do you like him?”

“. . .Yeah. . .but we never met or anything so take it with a grain of salt,” Yuuri mumbles.

“But what if you did meet? I mean, you have his number, right? What if you just call him and find a place to meet face to face? Maybe it’d help your feelings get sorted out,” Phichit suggests. Yuuri pulls the blanket down and turns, looking Phichit in his eyes.

“What if it doesn’t work?”

Phichit blinks. “Why wouldn’t it work?”

“Like. . .what if I just disappoint his expectations of me?” Yuuri asks with a heavy sigh.

“You won’t know until you talk to him,” Phichit says. Yuuri hisses in a breath.

“But what if it doesn’t work?” Yuuri repeats and god, he hates feeling like this. He hates it when he thinks and thinks and he thinks, until he thinks about something for far too much and for far too long, to the point where it hurts to move and his brain is fucked and filled with thoughts and emotions that he can never put into words. He hates this. He hates this so much.

Yuuri moves Phichit’s arm out of the way so he can pull his blanket over his head. “I just need some more time,” Yuuri mutters.

He feels a hand rest on his head where it’s hidden underneath the covers, gentle and friendly.

“Okay. I’m going to head downstairs and get some snacks from the vending machine. Do you want anything?” Phichit asks.

“. . .Peanut M&Ms.”

Though Yuuri can’t see it, he knows Phichit is giving him a fond smile. “Sure thing.”

Mila broadcasts that there will be rain later on in the week. She’s usually wrong on weather predictions ninety-nine percent of the time, so Yuuri doesn’t plan to bring an umbrella to his weekly lab. He does his experiment with a lab partner that doesn’t have a clue what the hell they’re doing and has to copy Yuuri’s data to turn something in, and thinks about Victor while he types up the first page of his lab report. 

Victor’s texts are coming in fewer and fewer, but Yuuri did remember seeing that Victor is trying to study for an upcoming exam for one of his classes, so he won’t be open to talk as much. Yuuri doesn’t know whether to feel slightly relieved because he still needs more time to think, or desperate for more contact with Victor because he misses his voice and his texts overflowing with irrelevant emojis.

Yuuri wastes his time debating just what he wants from Victor until his head starts to ache from thinking too hard again, and leaves lab early to head to the library and put together a playlist for the show. The second he steps out of the large building, the skies are grey and gloomy and rain is pouring down. All Yuuri can do is groan.

Yuuri slips off his backpack and fishes out calculus folder that is filled with more junk than actual notes on calculus, and holds it over his head as he tries to map out the path he needs to take that will prevent him from getting soaked in rainwater. A few minutes pass of Yuuri just holding the folder over his head but not moving from underneath the shelter of the science building. The pitter patter of rain beating against the cement is hard and heavy and loud; Yuuri knows that the longer he stands in the same spot, the worse the rain is going to get.

Yuuri sucks in a breath and he grits his teeth. Here goes nothing.

Yuuri makes a dash across the lawn, sneakers stomping through large puddles and sliding across slick lawns. The rain beats down over the small shelter he’s failing to hold up; his hands are getting wet along with the rest of his body. If it comes down to it, he will have to run to the student store and purchase another umbrella so he can remain somewhat dry until he gets to the library.

Too caught up in his own thoughts, Yuuri’s right foot catches on his left ankle and he stumbles, falling to the ground and his folder spills out with the papers flying upwards and getting drenched by the rain. Yuuri pushes himself onto his knees, hurriedly trying to gather the soggy pages in vain. His hair is wet and his glasses are slipping down his nose with rainwater dropping onto the lenses from his bangs. He’s wet and he’s cold and this entire week just sucks so much.

And then, the rain stops.

A shadow, large and big, looms over Yuuri and a pair of worn-down Kenneth Coles grace Yuuri’s vision.

He looks up and is met with beautiful blue eyes looking down at him with concern, and a smile that is quirked in kindness that makes Yuuri feel warm beneath his skin. This man - with silvery hair and smooth skin, a perfect jawline and nose and way classier tastes in fashion than Yuuri’s bland and simple clothing – is beautiful. He’s. . .he’s gorgeous.

Yuuri feels his mouth open, lips moving to choke out a few words while he sits on his knees with water soaking through his jeans.

“I – I – um – thank you, but I’m alright,” Yuuri manages to croak out. He averts his eyes for a second when he realizes how bad he looks now, stupidly running through the rain with only a binder as shelter and falling down like a complete klutz. But when Yuuri looks back up, expecting for the man to leave, there’s a different expression swimming in those blue eyes that Yuuri doesn’t quite understand.

The man offers his hand towards Yuuri, and Yuuri blinks. He knows there’s no point in trying to gather up the pages that are soaked through and ruined for good, so he gathers his folder into his hands and takes the hand offered to him. The man pulls Yuuri up to his feet, but he doesn’t let go of Yuuri’s hand. It’s warm; there’s callouses built up around the other man’s fingers that brush against Yuuri’s knuckles when he holds Yuuri’s hand nice and tight.

Yuuri is confused, and he’s blushing too hard. “. . .I should – I – um – I need to go to the student store and –”

“Yuuri?”

That voice.

Yuuri tenses immediately, eyes widening in shock as he takes in the man’s face, as he takes in Victor’s face. His Victor. His Victor that he’s been talking to for almost two months and now is starting to feel so conflicted and confused about is. . .is right in front of him. Touching him. Staring at him. Looking at Yuuri like he’s the loveliest thing he’s ever seen, while Yuuri is dressed in an ugly sweatshirt, old jeans and is soaking wet.

“I – it is you, right? I mean. . .you just. . .” Victor releases his hand, now unsure. “You just. . .have a familiar sounding voice,” he says, like it’s an apology for getting too excited over possibly nothing.

Yuuri feels himself trembling in his shoes. Victor’s eyes are sparkling so bright and there’s a warmth that crawls up from Yuuri’s chest to strangle his throat and make his tongue go dry. He’s frozen, he’s stuck. The rain beats against the shelter of Victor’s umbrella and Yuuri’s socks are wet and feel gross around his ankle and between his toes. He doesn’t step away from Victor, nor does he draw in closer to Victor’s warming aura.

“. . .I. . .” Yuuri swallows hard, “It’s. . .it’s me. . .Victor?”

Victor immediately takes hold of Yuuri’s hand, and squeezes tightly.

“Y-Yes! It’s me!” Victor exclaims and his eyes. They’re so beautiful and blue and swimming with love and happiness and too many emotions flying by at speeds faster than light. Yuuri feels his face grow warm, but it’s a different type of burn that works itself over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. It’s a warmth that’s. . .sweet and tickles beneath his skin.

"I – I – yeah. It’s me,” Yuuri mumbles, turning his eyes back down to the ground and not stare at the lines of Victor’s face, or the wisps of his fringe, or the build of his body underneath that expensive looking coat. He waits for something along the lines of ‘you’re nothing what I thought you were’ or ‘you’re nothing like how you sound on the radio’ or maybe even ‘you look so plain and boring’.

Yuuri does not expect to hear Victor sigh out the most dazed and breathless ‘wow’ Yuuri’s ever heard in his life, and then give a little chuckle that can barely be heard over the rain around them. It’s the same light chuckle that Victor does whenever Yuuri says something that sounds witty over the radio, and it feels like Yuuri’s spine is about to snap in two from how Victor’s voice shivers up his body in broad waves.

“You’re. . .you. . .wow,” Victor says, raising their hands up so Yuuri can admire how perfect his hand looks fitted into Victor’s palm. Yuuri is confused. Embarrassed. Also, strangely happy. And very cold and wet.

“Can we. . .” his words get stuck on his tongue when Victor directs those eyes his way, and he immediately ducks his head back down. For some reason, it must be enough, since Victor’s hand holds Yuuri tight and he drops their hands back at their sides.

“Let’s move somewhere drier,” he suggests. Dumbly, Yuuri nods his head, and follows as Victor pulls him along. They walk in silence, fingers tightly interlinked with each other. When Yuuri glances at Victor’s face out of the corner of his eye, he sees Victor has a smile on his lips.

“. . .I’ve wanted to do this for a while,” Victor admits when he guides Yuuri around a puddle of rainwater.

“. . .Holding my hand?” Yuuri asks. Victor laughs, and the sound is richer and brighter and makes Yuuri’s mind freefall into thoughts of how badly he wants to hear Victor laugh again and have his voice against the shell of his ear.

“No. Well, actually, yes. That too. But just. . .meeting you was something I’ve wanted to do since I started texting you. But. . .I don’t know, I didn’t think you’d want to meet me after what I said on last week’s show. I really fucked up then, didn’t I?” Victor asks. Yuuri immediately shakes his head from side to side.

“N-No! I just – I had a lot on my mind and when you said that I just – I didn’t know what to think. I. . .I wanted to meet you too. . .but. . .”

“But?”

Yuuri bites the inside of his cheek. “I. . .I didn’t want you to get your hopes up over nothing. . .I’m not anyone special or anything. . .”

Victor’s thumb starts to rub over Yuuri’s knuckles. “I always thought you were someone special. I mean, I told you the story of how I got so drunk that I pissed on everything, I compared cottage cheese to baby vomit, I’m apparently in the lone minority of people that think the new Star Wars movies are overrated-”

“I still say you didn’t watch them enough to fully appreciate them,” Yuuri mutters, which draws another little laugh from Victor’s lips and makes Victor pull him closer to his side.

“Point is, there were a bunch of reasons for you to just ignore me and not answer my calls or my texts. . .but you responded back to me and talked to me. . .and I don’t know. . .I liked hearing you talk and your opinions and hearing you laugh. Then I started to wonder what you looked like when you laugh. . .and what your smile looked like. Your eyes and your hair. . .you know Christophe?” Victor suddenly asks.

Yuuri blinks. “Um, yeah. We’re friends.”

Victor smiles. “He’s my best friend. The one that told me how drunk I was when I called in and the one that remembered the entirety of my blackout drunk story,” Victor explains. A smile cracks over his lips. “He offered to show me a picture of you if it would get me to stop sulking about how badly I wanted to know what you looked like, but I turned it down. I wanted to see you with my own eyes, but I didn’t know how to ask you out,” Victor explains and sighs. “To be honest, I thought you wouldn’t want to even meet me. I made myself look like such a dork on your show.”

That gets Yuuri to stop in his tracks. Victor stops too, looking confused as Yuuri’s eyes widen in complete shock.

“W-What? Why wouldn’t I – how could I not like you?” Yuuri blurts. Victor’s cheeks tint pink, up to his ears. Yuuri doesn’t let Victor even respond, and lets the words fall out in stuttered and stilted sentences.

“I – you – I was worried this entire time that you wouldn’t be interested in meeting me, because I – I’m boring and I’m awkward and I dress like a slob and you – you – you’re so gorgeous. I just  - how can you even think I wouldn’t want to meet you when getting the chance to talk to you and laugh over stupid topics is the best part of the show for me? And then when you text me just to gush about how I did after the show, I just. . .I feel really happy talking to you and hearing your voice and I’ve wanted to meet you. I really did, but I was just too scared to think that you’ll be disappointed because I’m not outgoing or fun or anything like a radio personality should be and I – I’m – you – I –”

Yuuri just can’t wrap his brain around this. Victor – this beautiful, beautiful man with pretty eyes and a sexy voice and god, what a body – was actually worried about Yuuri judging him? All this time they were overthinking and they could have met way before all of this.

They’re. . .they’re such idiots.

Yuuri drops his face into his hands, embarrassment working itself up into his cheeks.

It’s quiet between them, Yuuri waiting for Victor to just say something before he bolts out of the shelter of Victor’s umbrella and beg Phichit to take him off the show and never speak to Victor again. Not that Yuuri thinks he can do it anyways; his legs feel like they’re trapped in cinderblock and his body is stiff from cold and rainwater and flat-out nerves.

Suddenly, Victor smiles.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re full of surprises?” Victor asks. Yuuri blinks.

“I. . .no?”

“You are,” Victor says, stepping in closer. He squeezes Yuuri’s hand, like he’s assuring that everything currently happening is reality, and they both exist in this time and space together under the umbrella with rain pouring around them.

“O-Oh,” Yuuri stammers, then pauses, “. . .Is it a good surprise?”

Victor laughs. “It’s. . .it’s a great surprise.”

Their fingers twine together on instinct, fitting like two puzzle pieces. Yuuri admires the way his hand fits in Victor’s, absolutely perfect. He. . .he wants this. He wants to try to make this work.

Yuuri starts to stammer out syllables and consonants that don’t really connect to form a sentence that makes any sense the same time that Victor blurts out ‘can we go on a date?’. They stare at each other, Yuuri moreso trying to process what Victor just said while Victor waits in anticipation for Yuuri’s response.

“I. . .a date,” Yuuri says, averting his eyes to their hands when he feels Victor give a squeeze.

Victor nods his head. “Not right now, since I have tutoring. But. . .I don’t know, we could grab some coffee later? Share music interests? I have a lot of pictures of Makkachin on my phone that I haven’t sent you that you can look at,” Victor suggests. “Maybe we can just. . .get to know each other. Kinda starting over but not really?”

Yuuri looks up at Victor through his eyelashes. He’s warm all over his body, and the words don’t leave his lips that can properly explain the feelings that are seeping out of his chest and his mind and every inch of his body. It’s happiness and relief, caution and concern and worry at the back of his mind, insecurities that have subsided for the moment but Yuuri knows will arise again when he least expects it to.

But Victor just looks at him with those eyes and Yuuri can’t help but sigh.

“Yeah. Let’s. . .let’s start over,” Yuuri says and looks down at their hands. He raises them up, then awkwardly shakes Victor’s hand. “Um, Yuuri Katsuki.”

“Victor Nikiforov,” Victor introduces with a wry grin. Even his full name is sexy. Yuuri melts.

Victor pulls their hands down to rest at their sides once more. “Yuuri Katsuki,” Victor repeats, then his smile grows goofy and dorky and exactly like how Yuuri pictured Victor’s smile to be, but with the added plus of the smile shaping into a heart that makes Yuuri’s chest grow tight.

“I like it,” Victor says. He looks down at their hands and his smile seems to grow even bigger. “I like it a lot.” 

Yuuri breathes out a chuckle. “Yeah. . .me too.”