
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/9621767.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Yuri!!!_on_Ice_(Anime)
  Relationship:
      Otabek_Altin/Yuri_Plisetsky, Katsuki_Yuuri/Victor_Nikiforov
  Character:
      Yuri_Plisetsky, Otabek_Altin, Katsuki_Yuuri, Victor_Nikiforov
  Additional Tags:
      Heavy_Angst, What_Have_I_Done, Drugs, Heavy_Drinking, Alternate_Universe
      -_College/University, Alternate_Universe_-_High_School, Depression, Anger
      Management, Substance_Abuse, Self-Harm, Underage_Smoking, Slow_Build,
      Enemies_to_Friends_to_Lovers, music_student_yuri, Alternate_Universe_-
      Music
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-02-08 Updated: 2017-02-19 Chapters: 3/? Words: 3994
****** the taste of ash on my lips, sweet bruises on my hips. ******
by prettyboi
Summary
     It was only a matter on time before he broke.
     He couldn't remember the last time he had come home unharmed, when
     there wasn't a spray of purple bruises adorning his hips, when he
     wasn't buzzed from the cigarette hanging between his pale lips. When
     was the last time he brought himself to care, self destructive
     behaviour was his speciality, was it not?
     He yearned to feel again, to shake away the numbness that clouded his
     senses, his thoughts. He would tug at those blond locks, slice at
     thin wrists, watch himself burn.
      
     Or in which Yuri is burning himself out, and Otabek can't help but be
     drawn to the light like a moth drawn to a flame.
     DISCONTINUED
Notes
     Hey! Pretty boy here, though you guys can call my Billy.
     This fic will be pretty dark, I'm not going to lie. It's going to be
     covering a lot controversial issues, uncensored. And whilst it will
     turn up towards the end, I wouldn't hope for alot of fluff lmao.
     this is the first thing I have posted here? however I consider myself
     to be pretty good at writing, but I'll leave you to be the judge,
     Enjoy I guess?? comments and kudos are greatly appreciated.
     I'm an attention whore for praise and feedback, pls.
See the end of the work for more notes
***** Let me burn *****
Could the sensation of being numb be classified as a feeling?
Yuri couldn’t help but wonder over the question for several minutes, the youth
standing in the doorway of his first hour class, leaning almost lazily against
the door frame.
Forest green eyes hastily scoured the halls, hands shoved deep into the pockets
of dark skinny jeans, torn open at the knees. His almost signature blue and red
baseball jacket was emblazoned with the Russian symbolism and patches, slung
over a white shirt, just barely covering slender shoulders. He was perhaps one
of the first people to arrive, one of the few souls to stumble through the
school gates so early. 
Perhaps it was the peace that the silence offered that enticed him to wander in
at this time, to let his fingers run wild across the key board, to strum at the
strings pulled taught across his guitar, currently hanging over his shoulder,
neck pointing down. However, today he was content with just observing, features
falling into their customary glare, the corners of his mouth downturned. 
There was a cigarette dangling between his pale lips, smoke gently rising every
time he exhaled, not before he pulled the overgrown locks, once falling fast is
shoulders, into a messy knot upon the top of his head. Bangs messily covered
his forehead, framing sharp features, strands tucked behind pierced ears. 
"Yuri! Smoking isn't good for beautiful your singing voice идиот, how many
times do I have to tell you." 
The younger teen curled his fingers in disgust, turning to confront the
obnoxious voice, eyes falling on that familiar mop of silver locks. Those green
orbs rolled, as he exhaled a particularly large flume of smoke, cocking his
head to the side. His gaze narrowed, lips curling in an aggressive manner. 
"Fuck off Victor, I'm not ten, you don't have act like some wannabe parent,
mудак, go find your new number one fan,I'm sure he deserves your attention."
His words were harsh, gritted out through almost clenched teeth. He had taken a
few steps towards the other, leg now raised and pressed against the wall, the
blond leaning forward and looking up into those frost blue eyes with a look
almost as cold. 
Their brief conversation ended almost as suddenly as it had started, with Yuri
turning away, a frustrated sigh filling the tense silence. Once the sound of
foot steps had faded near the halls, he let out a deep breath, unaware he had
been holding it in for so long. 
This is what it had come to, pushing them away until they didn't care - perhaps
he liked it better that way though, if people didn't worry, perhaps they
wouldn't be disappointed with his behaviour. If they didn't worry, he wouldn't
have to deal with the consequences of letting things spiral until he had no
grasp. 
If Yuri had anything to say - which he did,
things were better this way. 
He preferred his solitude, he had control, yet he allowed himself to be pulled
with the ever turbulent currents, sinking deeper. 
He allowed his body to fall against the nearby wall, sinking into a messy
sitting position on the carpeted floor, legs sprawled, guitar in lap. His
slender fingers round their rightful place on the frets, strumming a few half
hearted chords. He stubbed his smoke out on the carpet, flicking the burnt
paper into the nearby bin. 
"I meet you in the dark, you lit me up
You made me feel as though I was enough
we danced the night away, we drank too much
I held your hair back when
you were throwing up."
His voice was rough and mellow, his accent thinning out as he tapped his foot
against the floor gently, so raw that the youth felt tears prickling. He had to
pause - just for a split second, to wipe them away hastily, his expression
remaining as cold as it had been when he had arrived.
"Then you smiled over your shoulder
for a minute, I was stone-cold sober
I pulled you closer to my chest
And you asked me to stay over.
I said, I already told you
I think that you should get some rest.
I knew I loved you then
But you'd never know
Cause I played it cool when I was scared of letting-" 
He was cut off by some hurried yelling, squeals of his name and frantic "He's
singing! I heard him" The very words caused him to visibly tense, before Yuri
scrambled to his feet, almost sprinting out of the classroom, bag hanging off
one shoulder, guitar on his back once more. 
How he was popular enough to elicit this kind of attention was beyond Yuri. He
came from a Russian family, moving to Europes top music academy at age
fourteen. Since the passing of his grandfather, He had resorted to boarding at
the dorms, a tricky custody battle leaving him in legal limbo, trying to escape
from the hand he had been dealt. 
"Jesus christ-" He had to stop for a second, leaning over slightly to catch his
breath. They were still somehow after him, hurried foot steps echoing through
the hallways. He kept on going, finding himself in the adjoining gardens, the
college campus just a hundred metres beyond the grass. The academy had a sister
university, sharing the same area. It wasn't uncommon for college students to
tutor the high schoolers, or for the high schoolers to use the college
facilities. 
He caught sight of the music hall, and ran as fast as his long legs could take
him, occasionally checking behind him to see if he was being followed. It
wasn't long before he skidded to a halt, violently slamming the door behind
him. He sighed in relief, unfortunately however, his relief was short lived,
his green eyes meeting dark brown. They skimmed over the taller male, from the
dark undercut to his broad shoulders, expressionless features and confident
posture. 
Yuri's thoughts were cut short by that horrid squealing, and the realisation
had hit the stranger also. 
It happened almost too fast, the figure rushed forwards, as the teen felt an
arm around his waist, another covering his mouth, before his back was pressed
hard against the others chest. Yuri thrashed in protest, but the stranger help
fast, his bulkier build able to hold the youth with ease.  
 
"This way."
 
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Notes
     2 chapters in 2 days, wow go me.
     this is kind of a bit of prologue??? the drama will happen soon dw
     kiddos
     also wow people actually read my trash??? what?????????? love u guys
     also feed me attention comments and kudos who needs food when u can
     be a shameless attention whore
     billy out lmao
"Fuck- Let me go!"
Yuri was finally placed down, not before the pair had taken shelter behind the
curtains, stage left. He was left awkwardly on the wooden floor, leaning
against the timpani drums. He immediately pulled on an unamused expression,
eyes thinned into their customary glare. He tried to search the older man's
face for any sign of emotion, any anger, curiosity, anything. He did notice
however, that those dark eyes bore a similar disposition to his own, dull yet
unyielding, witness to horrors that words are yet to be able to describe. It
almost brought him a sense of comfort, but the youth was far too angry to stay
intrigued by the stranger.
"What the- what the actual fuck do you think you are doing?" His harsh words
punctured the silence, accusing the stranger with a loud voice and wild hand
gestures, standing slowly. His tirade of anger was followed by an exasperated
sigh, before Yuri pulled out another smoke, lighting it quickly with the black
lighter stashed in his pockets. His gaze was still somewhat focused on the
brunette, who was eyeing the cigarette carton with a slightly curious
expression. He watched as the college student went to open his mouth, he seemed
to be pondering on what to say, and Yuri couldn't help but notice just how long
the others lashes were.
"Why do you smoke Yuri?" The question was simple enough, a deep, honey rich
voice catching Yuri by surprise. It seemed genuine, a gentle tone so very
different to the voices he was used to. Most would come up with excited, loud
words, screaming about topics the musician couldn't care less about. He was
expecting anger, rage, the yelling, twisted pitches he had come to use
regularly. "How- It's none of your business." Because slowly destroying my
health helps me to feel . His dangerous habits were caused by the numbness Yuri
couldn't shake, how the world almost seemed devoid of colour, a grey blue of
white noise and minimal noise. Music had grown dull, his interests no longer
amused him, but somehow, inflicting pain had given him that feeling he craved.
Smoking was just another self destructive behaviour he exhibited, at least the
nicotine eased the hurt. 
While he had found it weird that the other new is name, it wasn't an uncommon
occurrence, he had somehow build up the reputation, however it was mainly girls
who knew his name. His response was short, gritted out through clenched teeth.
He couldn't hold a grunge against the stranger for too long, and finally, his
twinge of curiosity began to show. 
"Who the hell are you? You know my name, it's only fair." He emphasised the
question, cocking his head to the side in a show of his curiosity, while his
cold expression remained.
"Otabek Altin, music performance major." The words were nonchalant, an
informative tone, stoic and free from major changes in pitch. Yuri hummed in
response, exhaling for a second, a large plume of smoke gently curling from
pale lips. "You sing?" Was his next question, looking over at Otabek with a
slightly softer expression, more passive than his usual demeanour. He watched
lazily as Otabek nodded, the youth puffing out another cloud.
A quick glance at the clock sitting above the door gave Yuri the indication
that he needed to get to class, causing the blond to gather his bag, and stride
towards the exit.
Turning back, he yelled a quick "Before you get all pissy about it, thanks.",
the tone borderline sarcastic, yet it was possibly the kindest thing he had
said in the last week. That didn't mean he liked Otabek, far from it, the male
was closed off, too, confident, sure of his actions. It ticked him off, how he
managed to remain so composed.
"Fucking hell." He murmured under his breath, gripping his lighter a little too
tightly.
                           _________________________
Yuri's head rested against the desk, hair strewn over his crossed arms, face
buried in the crook of his elbow. He had pulled his hair from the messy bun,
allowing the now wavy strands to fall free. He felt someone tap at his
shoulder, a classmate trying to wake him up before the next period of
composition and theory studies. He stirred, turning groggily to face a person
he had no care in getting to know. 
"Fuck off." He mumbled, carding a hand through pale golden locks. He flipped up
a middle finger, before facing the front once more, propping his head up on his
left hand, drumming his nails against the desk. Yuri groggily tried to focus on
the teachers face, blinking a few times until he was able to recognise the
ageing professor, Yakov. He was the main music professor, ruled with an iron
fist and strict code of conduct, he was unrelenting and more stubborn than an
ox. The pair would often clash heads, each refusing to give up their reasoning.
Their arguments were frequent and nasty.
Yet Yuri loved it. 
The loud booming voice quickly brought Yuri out of his slumber, however his
posture didn't change, one leg lazily crossed over the other. 
"You will be working with partners from our sister college, reread through your
term syllabus, you two will be performing a duet for the upcoming open day, the
performance will be held in the auditorium over at the college campus, those
who are late will get an immediate fail, tardiness will not be excused." The
groans were audibly loud and obnoxious, but that didn't mean that Yuri didn't
participate in it. "Listen carefully, your partners have already been chosen,
there will be no changing, or swapping of partners. Once you have answered to
your name, your partner's will be called out after. You have been matched to
students who major in the same instrument. Singers with singers, violinists
with violinists, even the dumbest in this class should be able to understand."
Yakov sounded almost bored, flipping through paper of the role seemingly
without a care in the world. 
Yuri had zoned out for most of the role call, however his eyes widened ever so
slightly when his name was called. "Here," He called out, half heartedly
raising a hand to signal his teachers attention. "You, your paired with the
singer Otabek Altin." He let his head hit the desk with a "thud", nodding to
acknowledge he had heard Yakov's statement. 
The front door to their lecture hall was opened, as a small group of college
students flooded in. Yuri's eyes traced over each of the new faces, observing
new features, until his eyes lay bare on that now familiar mess of dark hair. 
 
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Notes
     so like lol this ends pretty abruptly but b u t shits going down in
     the next couple chapters and its time to destroy this kids life :
     ))))))))
     its kinda longer but schools a bitch so unless you guys want like
     monthly updates, its going to stick around the 2000 mark for now.
     thanks for reading kiddos
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Yuri's eyes dragged lazily over Otabek, drinking in each minute detail, the
curve of his high cheek bones, just how long his bottom lashes were. He was
almost, curious about his new partner, despite how opposed he was to the idea
of remotely interacting with him. He didn't want to allow someone else to get
close, to break the incredibly fragile wall he had built, pushing down those
thoughts of how he could redeem himself. He'd long since locked away those
ideas, opting to wallow in toxic ideologies and dangerous decisions. Yuri let
his gaze drop, eyes downcast, long pale lashes fluttering ever so slightly,
before he took the risk of meeting eyes with the other. He raised a blond brow,
tapering to a sharp point, questioning just what Otabek would do, a silent
challenge.
"Work on this for the rest of the lesson, you can work wherever, but if any of
you are not back five minutes before period end, expect a week of Saturday
detentions, you hear me?" Yakov's booming voice sounded once more, it didn't
take long for another collective groan to spread throughout the group of
students, as they began to slowly disperse. "I want to go outside." Yuri broke
the silence between the pair, using a demanding tone, not breaking eye contact.
He wanted to see this guy tick, to see how far he could push it until Otabek
snapped. He had a habit of purposely pushing peoples buttons, stirring them up
for a few moments of amusement, it often brought a smirk to his lips, a
slightly sadistic trait that often caused those who had once admired him to
look at him with blatant expressions of disgust. Perhaps if he was nicer, he'd
be on the receiving end of good fate, but Yuri couldn't help but find enjoyment
out of his sick hobbies, to watch people squirm. 
But to his displeasure, Otabek's expression stayed the same, a passive gaze
meeting his own cold glare. He replied simply with "Ok." Causing a huff of
annoyance from the younger musician. Picking up his bag, Yuri started to make
his way towards the door, placing nimble fingers on Otabek's back to push him
forward. "Hurry up moron." Was uttered under a single breath, as he haphazardly
tucked his hair behind an ear, before shoving his hands roughly into his
pockets.
 "Where do we want to go." Yuri's voice was harsh and bitter, not bothering to
conceal his dislike of the situation. However, Otabek seemed to be unmoved,
which only ticked him off more. "I know a place." The older male spoke after an
almost awkward pause of silence, no hint of anger or frustration present. With
a frustrated huff, Yuri nodded, following the older singer as they wandered
through the grounds.
It wasn't long before they ended up near an overgrown courtyard, a few benches
scattered over a lush green lawn, a large oak tree situated in the centre. The
leaves were steadily turning brown, with a few having already fallen. Vines
were scaling the walls of nearby buildings, sheltering the space from the view
of others. It was clear the place had been long forgotten, maintenance hadn't
cut the plants back in what seemed to be years. He had to admit, it was
beautiful, allowing himself to drop the scorn for a few moments. Yuri took a
seat on the ground, leaning his back against one of the now fading white wooden
seats. Otabek sat beside the youth, however he sat on the bench, with Yuri's
head coming up above and beside his legs. With a stifled yawn, Yuri stretched
his arms up above his head, clasping his hands together, arching his back with
feline grace. He reached forward and touched his toes with little effort,
trying to ease the exhaustion aching in his bones.
Pulling the guitar onto his lap, Yuri fiddled with the pegs for a few seconds,
before exhaling loudly, allowing his hands to rest on his instrument. "For fuck
sake- what are we going to sing, do you have any preference? Or should I just
pick. We do have to do a duet." He was growing impatient, restless, fidgeting
with his fingernails. He turned to look over at Otabek, green eyes meeting
brown, before he glanced off to the side once more. "Something stupid, The
Robbie Williams and Nicole Kidman rendition. Would that work." The college
student spoke up, leaning forward slightly. "Right." Yuri gritted out, spending
a few seconds to try and remember the chords. "You take the male part; I have a
higher vocal range 'kay." It wasn't so much a request, rather a demand, an
order. He wasn’t ashamed at his demanding personality, it was as if he had
control over the situation, something he desperately craved.
When the other student nodded, Yuri took the time to strum out some of the
chords, plucking at the stings with somewhat long nails and extreme precision,
a slow introduction to a song he had only heard a couple times. Whilst the
chords may have been done by ear, he prided himself in his almost perfect
memory, able to lock away countless stores of musical knowledge, plus he always
had a weakness for Frank Sinatra. Gazing down, he paused slightly, before
waiting for their time to come in,
 
“I know I stand in line until you think you have the time

To spend an evening with me

And if we go someplace to dance, I know that there's a chance

You won't be leaving with me

And afterwards we drop into a quiet little place and have a drink or two

And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like ‘I love you’”
 
Yuri almost spluttered when he heard Otabek sing properly, his eyes widened
slightly. The voice was honey like, rich and thick, reaching the notes with
ease. It was pitched lower than Yuri’s, whose singing was sweet, and despite
the personality behind it, sounded almost innocent, pulling on a façade that he
was more than happy to play.
 
I can see it in your eyes

That you despise the same old lies you heard the night before

And though it's just a line to you, for me it's true

And never seemed so right before

I practice every day to find some clever lines to say

To make the meaning come through

But then I think I'll wait until the evening gets late and I'm alone with you

The time is right, your perfume fills my head, the stars get red and, oh, the
night's so blue

And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like "I love you"
 
Yuri started to push a little harder, a silent invitation to go louder, bigger,
a grin gracing his lips. Their voices were starting to carry past the
courtyard, the blond starting to put more effort into into his playing, tapping
the wood in between chords.
 
The time is right, your perfume fills my head, the stars get red and, oh, the
night's so blue

And then I go and spoil it all by sayin' something stupid like "I love you"

I love you

I love you

I love you
 
I love you.
 
He took some shaky breaths in, finally breathing properly after the entirety of
the song. His grin dropped, “You’re not bad.” He murmured, it carried a hint of
admiration, not that he’d ever admit it. He leant back against the chair,
letting his head loll to the side and rest against Otabek’s thigh, pulling his
hair over his shoulder. “You a boarder?” The blond asked, raising a brow,
curious to see whether the foreign student was similar to him in some way.
 
“Yeah, I transferred from Kazakhstan, you?” Yuri hummed, nodding slightly,
letting his eyes fall upon the mess of ivy growing upon the walls of the
courtyard. “Russia.” It was one word, but it held so much meaning. “Thought the
accent gave it away.” The comment was offhanded, but it earned a chuckle from
the the older boy. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the now slightly
crumpled packet of cigarettes. “You smoke?” He asked Otabek, holding out the
pack, waiting as the other foreign student took one. It wasn’t much of a
surprise that the other smoked, he did have the smallest suspicion that he did,
it wasn't uncommon.
 
Yuri flicked the on lighter once more, drawing the flame to the paper, Otabek
bringing the cigarette to his lips, before lighting it from the same flame. The
Czech native rested his elbows on his things, bringing a hand down to card
through the blond locks that belonged to a person that intrigued him. Yuri for
once, didn’t move away, allowing the older male to sate his curiosity, feeling
the fingers pull through the tangles, gently pulling the strands apart,
scratching against his scalp.
 
He enjoyed the small moment of peace, watching the smoke curl once more,
finding the scent of the smoke almost calming, despite how much others hated
it.
 
“Come to dorm 24 after classes, a block.” When a voice sounded after perhaps,
twenty minutes, Yuri let his eyes open lazily, turning around to meet those
brown eyes. “You have something to drink right? I’m down.” Standing, up slowly,
Yuri pulled his guitar back over his back, pulling his hair back up into a
messy bun. He gestured towards where they came from, a brief head nod, as the
older man stood. “Yakov is waiting.” The blond sounded, shoving his hands back
into his pocket once more, stubbing the smoke under his shoe.
 
The pair moved towards the auditorium, Yuri trailing behind Otabek, unsure of
where they were. The walk was fairly brief, with both of them reaching the
class a few minutes before dismissal. They sat back near the back of the
classroom, Yuri perched on the desk while Otabek took the chair. He listened as
Yakov dismissed the group, before the two groups split towards their respective
campuses.
 
                           _________________________
 
Pale knuckles rapped against the wooden door, “Open up придурок! I’m fucking
freezing out here.” Pushing all of his weight onto one hip, picking at the dirt
under his nails. Once the door swung open, he waltzed in, dropping his bag near
the door. His eyes wandered around the dorm, the fairly neat, almost bland room
appealed to the youth, who took a seat on the bed, flopping down on the soft
doona. Otabek took a seat next to him, lying down with more grace than the
youth.
 
“I don't want to move" Yuri grumbled, turning to the side ever so slightly,
adjusting to be more comfortable. 
"I'll get something to drink," Otabek sat up, rummaging through a cupboard,
before tossing a can to the high schooler. "You can thank me later" caused Yuri
to glare, flipping up the middle finger, much to the amusement of Otabek.
 
Chapter End Notes
     придурок - dork/nerd etc
End Notes
     translations (forgive me, may have used google translate):
     идиот - idiot
     mудак - asshole
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