#had to stop making breakfast to make this post. remember my sacrifice (breakfast delayed by 2 minutes)

[sunsage]

"I'd like to preemptively say: not my fault this time."

[witharthurkirkland]

Thank You God

Summary: Everything that can possibly go wrong, goes wrong for Yuuri Katsuki and he finds himself at a Bed and Breakfast penniless with just the clothes on his back. The owner of the Bed and Breakfast is a very lonely young man named Victor Nikiforov.

Notes: This takes place in the long ago time before cellphones. This is another Bad Apple AU with bad boy Yuuri Katsuki and innocent Victor Nikiforov. Also, if you want me to write this prompt with their canon personalities, let me know. This is based on this post by @thisdorkyblogthing

Read it here or on ao3.

Yuuri Katsuki had had days not go his way before, but this was just ridiculous. First his flight was delayed, which, although annoying, was fine. It wasn’t the end of the world. He could wait. (And of course it had to happen in an airport with no decent food options available.) The flight itself was nothing short of torture: he was prepared to swear that half of the passengers on the airplane were screaming kids. And, of course, when he landed it turned out that they lost his luggage. All of it. Because getting one thing right was beyond their abilities.

As he vented all of his frustration with the universe in general and incompetent workers in particular he couldn’t help wondering if he’d pissed off some god that was getting their revenge on him now.

In ancient times they used to perform some kind of ritual before leaving home to ensure that they’d get wherever they were going without a problem. Or so he’d read somewhere.

He glared at the worker who was barely passing off as a human, let alone a person to trust with people’s belongings. Maybe the gods will accept a sacrifice of a stupid person…

But his trials didn’t end there: when he took a taxi from the airport to his friend’s place it turned out that the taxi driver, not happy with earning wages the honest way, decided to earn some the dishonest way.

He stopped and pulled a gun on Yuuri who, having no other way to defend himself, swung a fist, at which point someone ran to the car, opened the door and made grab for him.

What followed afterwards was best not to be remembered. Someone else would’ve described it as a world of pain, no doubt, but not Yuuri.

He lay in a ditch, staring up at the clear blue sky. They’d used his body as a damn punching bag!

Well, it was no use lying around here and groaning from pain all day. Time to get up and head for civilization.

The town he found didn’t look like it was big enough to show up on any map, except maybe a map of the town itself and even then it would’ve barely shown up.

Some kind people, the owners of one of those corner shops that sells all kinds of knick-knacks, took him in, bandaged a few cuts and offered him clothes that were less torn and less bloodied than the ones he was currently wearing. They also told him where he’d be able to stay overnight.

And that was why, when he knocked on the door of a Bed & Breakfast that looked like it was probably referred to as Ye Olde Cottage he was in a pair of shorts that were too short in both directions and what was once a T-shirt commemorating the tour of a singer no one had probably ever heard of that was then turned, by a pair of very unskilled hands, into what was someone’s idea of stylish crop top and Yuuri’s idea of a bad joke.

“Come in,” a voice called.

Don’t tell me this is one of those small towns that doesn’t believe in thieves!

He opened the door and froze in the doorway, taking in the figure sitting by the window.

 Victor Nikiforov was lonely. To his big surprise, moving to a cottage by the sea in France wasn’t as romantic and amazing as he’d expected. For some reason it hadn’t occurred to him that moving to a small town also meant isolating himself from the rest of the world. So he opened a Bed and Breakfast, hoping it would encourage people to visit him. For some reason, it didn’t.

At first he sent photos and enthusiastic letters to his friends describing the sea and how wonderful it was. But over time his enthusiasm waned. He grew tired of reading about his friends’ families and how interesting their lives were.

He could go back home, he often reasoned and remembered all too well what he’d run away from.

One day a handsome stranger will walk in through my door and save me, he thought with all the logic of a character in a fairytale.

That afternoon he sat by the window, taking in the view of the rolling waves and wondering if it was worth getting out of the house at all.

Everything was so miserable and terrible.

Dear God, he thought, I’m not really sure if I believe in you or not and sorry about that, but I promise I will never have another rude thought ever again, if you can just…

A knock came on the door.

A year ago he would’ve jumped up and run to the door, exclaiming something like, “I’m saved at last,” but now he was wiser than that. It was probably Pierre again. The old man considered it his duty to barge in on Victor in the afternoons, drink his tea and eat his food and make small talk Victor didn’t care for.

“Come in,” he said and turned around, trying to gather enough will power to pretend to be happy to see Pierre.

The door swung open and the man of Victor’s dreams stood in the doorway.

He was like… Victor’s mind struggled for a proper summary. Like a Greek god, no like those heroes who go through a bunch of trials to save someone they will later fall in love with.

“Thank you, God!” he exclaimed, raising his eyes at the little patch of sky that was visible through the window.

The man – no, no, the handsome stranger – leaned against the doorframe. “I imagine you barely ever get any customers, being in the middle of nowhere, but look I have just had a really trying 24 hours. I’ve barely got three damn dollars to my damn name, but I swear as soon as I get all this crap sorted out with the police I will pay, alright? And the lady in the shop said you had somewhere to stay…” He trailed off.

Victor stared into his eyes.

It was like all of his dreams came true at once.

He’ll walk in, he often imagined, tell me he’s here to take me away from all this. Our eyes will meet across the room and we’ll both know that we’re meant to be.

“Hey!” the stranger said, marching across the room and waving an arm in front of Victor’s face. “You in there? Or did you pass out from the terror of seeing another human being?”

“V-Victor…” he whispered.

“What?”

“M-my name is Victor.” He stood up and held out his hand.

The stranger looked at it and then at his face. “Yeah, okay, whatever. I’m Yuuri.”

They shook hands and Victor was prepared to swear that a spark of electricity passed through that handshake.

I love you already, he thought.

“Listen,” Yuuri said, pulling his hand away, “do you have any other clothes? I let them talk me into wearing this crap, but honestly it was the only way to shut them up and… well, I wouldn’t object to something a little less revealing, even it is summertime.”

Victor bounded up the stairs. “Yes, of course!”

He returned not long after with some clothes he’d had left over from his teenage years. Yuuri took them and then gave him a curious look.

“You don’t look like someone who’d go around wearing leather.”

“I… uh… had a phase…”

“Lucky for me, then.”

They stared at each other for several seconds. Victor felt the blush creep up to his cheeks.

“So are you going to stand there and watch me change, or can I have some privacy?”

“Ah!” Victor turned away.

Yuuri chuckled and changed. “I take it I can stay here for tonight?” he went on while Victor faced the other way.

You can stay here forever!

“Okay, I’m done.”

Victor turned and instantly his hand rose to his nose.

He remembered how he looked during his punk phase. With his long blond hair and bright blue eyes he looked like someone in a costume. Yuuri looked the part. He had the dark hair and the dangerous glint in his eyes that really went with the leather jacket. Victor’s eyes travelled briefly downwards and he forced them to go up.

“Checking me out, already?” Yuuri joked.

Victor felt his knees go weak and he nearly fell over.

Yuuri pulled a hand through his hair and the world faded away.

 When Victor was conscious of his surroundings again he found himself sprawled out on the couch in an empty room. Had he imagined it all? Had he fallen asleep and dreamt about the handsome stranger – no, no, his name was Yuuri – arriving and…

There was a clatter of dishes in the kitchen and Victor’s head dropped back on the sofa. He closed his eyes.

It had all been a dream! Pierre was in his kitchen again, no doubt waiting for him to join him for a cup of tea and a boring conversation.

“You awake now?”

His eyes snapped open and he stared up into that face again.

Yuuri held out a glass of water. But Victor didn’t even notice that. His hair was slicked back and he could now see the bruises on his face that only added to the overall bad boy look.

“I think I’m still dreaming…” he whispered.

“Yeah, well, I’m sure this is one crazy nightmare and all that,” Yuuri said dismissively.

Victor reached out and took the cup, his hands closing over Yuuri’s. “No, this is a dream come true,” he whispered.

“You’re really desperate for money, aren’t you?” Yuuri said.

He could touch him now. Yuuri was really there. He wasn’t some sort of hallucination.

No, no, he’s too good to be true. I must still be asleep.

“Are we having a staring contest now?” Yuuri joked.

I didn’t realize that people like you really existed.

Yuuri pulled his hands away carefully. “Anyway, I’m exhausted. Can you show me which is my room? I mean, I guess I can always nap on the floor if –”

“No! no!” Victor protested, rising to his feet. You can have my room! He thought and then regretted the thought. He took a deep breath in a desperate attempt to calm down. “I have a nice room upstairs. It’s clean and has a…” a blush rose to his cheeks, “a bed…”

“Yeah, okay, whatever. I’m sold.”

Victor blushed deeper and nodded. They stood awkwardly for another minute.

“Well?” Yuuri asked. “Lead the way.”

Victor nodded and walked off. He still felt unsteady on his feet and had to cling on to the railing to not fall over. When the railing ran out he rushed to the best bedroom, trying not to fall over.

“Steady there, tiger,” Yuuri called out, catching him as he nearly fell.

“I… ah!” Victor trembled. Yuuri’s arms were around him. He could feel his own heart beating fast. “I… uh… I think I’m going to faint again…”

 What the hell is wrong with him? Did he live alone for so long he forgot how to talk to other human beings? Whatever. I’ll just stay here the night and then go. Let him be as weird as he likes.

He helped Victor into his bedroom, sat him down in a chair and then went to the bedroom that Victor had indicated would be his. He couldn’t be bothered to undress or do anything else. He’d merely dropped onto the bed with a sigh and passed out.

Jet lag and fatigue united to gift him dreamless sleep.

 There was a strange painting on the wall. The furniture probably remembered the beginning of the previous century. A cuckoo clock on the wall kept ticking away the seconds and getting on his nerves. A pleasant breeze blew in through the window, playing with the lace curtains. The whole place looked like someone had looked up quaint in the dictionary and tried to bring it to life.

Where the hell was he?

He sat up and heard the humming coming from somewhere below.

Then he remembered the stupid flight, the lost luggage, the mugging and the very strange owner of the bed and breakfast place.

It was getting dark outside. Maybe he could just lie back down and sleep until the morning and leave.

But the clock kept ticking away. On the hour, sure as anything, the cuckoo came out to tell him it was 7 in the evening.

And a delicious smell made its way up into his room.

He gave in to his hunger and headed for the kitchen.

Victor was cooking something on the stove and humming to himself. Yuuri watched him from the doorway. He really was odd. Now he wasn’t so tired he took in the kitchen with all of the odd china, the table in the corner and the little TV right above it.

This wasn’t the kind of house anyone expected to find a young man in. It was an old person’s house. It was a typical grandma cottage.

He wondered how long he could stand there, admiring the view his host was giving him. He was in really tight clothes that Yuuri was prepared to swear he hadn’t been wearing before.

Victor turned and the smile froze on his face.

Yuuri chuckled. “I’m ravenous. What’s for dinner? Or does that all cost extra?”

“D-dinner?” Victor repeated and blushed. “What would you like? I-I have… um…” He turned away as if he needed to look at the stove to remember what he was cooking. “…chicken…and…”

Yuuri listened to the menu and gave a low whistle. “Did you just cook all of that? How long was I asleep for? A week?”

Victor glanced at the clock. “O-only three hours.” He cleared his throat. “I’m a very good cook! I can make anything!”

I doubt that, but I’m too hungry to argue right now.

He dropped into a chair. “Just give me whatever.”

Victor set the table, taking out the old china and the fine silver. He arranged it all daintily in front of Yuuri’s astonished eyes.

What the hell? I’m hungry. You don’t need to make an art installation!

Victor’s hand brushed against Yuuri’s shoulder by accident and he stepped away with a blush.

Yuuri looked up to see Victor turn away.

They ate dinner in the candlelight. It was so sappy, Yuuri couldn’t help rolling his eyes. Victor was silent the whole time.

He probably can’t remember how to talk to people anymore. I guess that means that he doesn’t talk to himself.

“We have a nice view of the sky at night,” Victor finally said. “Are you staying here long?”

“Until tomorrow. Do you have a phone I can borrow? I’ll ask my friend to pick me up and I’ll pay you back and then I won’t have to bother you anymore.”

“B-bother? You’re not bothering me,” Victor said in a half-whisper. “And you can stay here longer, if you like.”

Oh God, he’s actually hitting on me! Oh great!

It was getting increasingly more awkward. Yuuri left once it became obvious that Victor didn’t have a phone after all.

 Victor stayed up all night, staring at the stars out the window and waiting for one to fall to make his wish. The stars remained stubbornly in their places, which was just plain unfair.

So as the sky started to lighten Victor made his wish anyway, reasoning that it couldn’t hurt.

Still unable to sleep, he got up and made breakfast. He imagined lying on the beach by Yuuri’s side and taking in his gorgeous dark eyes.

When he came into Yuuri’s room with a tray full of breakfast he found it empty. Yuuri had gone and somehow Victor had missed it.

He dropped into a chair as tears ran down his face.

He let himself cry and when he ran out of tears he took the breakfast back to the kitchen and ate it.

Two days later someone slipped an envelope with money under the door. It didn’t say anything on it, but Victor knew Yuuri had left it for him.

He wasn’t coming back then. He’d gone off before Victor could even have a proper conversation with him, before he could find out anything about him.

Why was he so stupid? Why hadn’t he said anything over dinner? He should’ve asked Yuuri about everything, demanded to know every detail of his life! But he’d been so shocked by his appearance that he barely spoke.

He sat by the window, his arms clutching a pillow to his chest.

He imagined their life together in that little cottage, swimming in the water, lying out in the sun and maybe even exchanging a kiss under the pale moonlight.

I should go find him, he thought. But I don’t even know his last name!

He could go to that store and ask about a boy that they’d given awful clothes to. He could go to the police and ask about a boy who’d been robbed. He could go to the airport and ask about a boy who’d lost all his luggage.

He sighed and put his hands over his face.

What if he’d never existed? What if it had all been nothing more than a fantasy after all? He was so scared to go and talk to strangers. What if Yuuri had never existed and they laughed at him for his crazy fantasy?

It was safer here, in this little cottage. He could spend the rest of his life waiting and imagining what could’ve been.

Yes, it was much better. It was safe.

 It was the last day of summer. Victor lay on the sand under an umbrella.

A loud revving noise made him sit up. A motorcyclist was headed straight for him.

He sighed and lay back down. He didn’t have the energy to move anywhere. He just didn’t care anymore.

Gradually the noise got louder and still he didn’t move an inch.

The noise cut off abruptly and a shadow fell over Victor.

“I have a delivery for Victor Nikiforov.”

He sat up. “A delivery?”

The biker stood with his helmet on and with a package in his hands. “Well?”

“Do I have to sign for it?”

“Yeah…” Still he remained rooted to the spot.

“I’ll get a pen,” Victor said, turning away.

“I have one.” He produced one from his pocket.

Victor signed a piece of paper and took the package out of the postman’s hands.

Suddenly he realized what he was holding. He unwrapped the parcel carefully.

It was a bouquet of flowers.

The delivery man chuckled and Victor raised his head just in time to see him remove his helmet.

“Do you ever leave your cottage?”

“Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed.

“The one and only.”

Victor didn’t know what to say or do and then instinct took over and he jumped into Yuuri’s arms. “Don’t ever leave me. Please.”

He felt Yuuri run his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know how you can live here all alone. Tell me, have you ever considered getting a dog?”