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rayraywrites · 8 years

Text

Title: Arabesque

Chapter 1: Arabesque Penchee

Fandom: Yuri on ice | Yuri!!! On Ice

Pairing: Yuuri Katsuki x Viktor Nikiforov | other ships to come

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 3377

Betas: @yourplisetsky & @daiyanodumpster (thank you <3)

AO3

Summary:

Being royal doesn’t mean perfection.

Being common doesn’t mean imperfection.

And sometimes, mistakes happen? But sometimes it’s okay.

In. Out.

A constant cycle of the mantra helped him to slowly calm down. He groaned pitifully, as the much needed air flowed through his body. It filled his lungs, spreading through the cavity with a life-sustaining roar. His chest heaved as he tried to keep control of himself. He could feel the bile climbing up his throat, but he quickly pushed it down, and followed that with a glass of cool water. His head was pounding, the panic of the moment setting his mind down a painful route.

Patting himself with a moist towel, as his entire body had broken into sweat, he glanced up at the mirror in front of him. He didn’t see the alluring, confident, beauty that most saw. He saw the fear in his eyes, the small bruise on his shoulder from where he had landed badly in practice, the mussed up hair from pulling on it. Tears pooled at his eyes, just above the large purple bruises that dotted his under-eye. He rarely got enough sleep, his body crying out for rest, but his mind always saying it wasn't enough. His mouth curved into a perpetual frown — an appealing pout by most — though he tried to lift the corner of his lips up into a semblance of a smile, producing a pained grimace.

But most all, he saw the lack of talent filling his every pore. The uncouth manner with which he stood, the terror leaving every hair on his body on edge, the sadness in his face. All spoke of one who was not accustomed to such a skill-based life.

Yet as he dragged the skin tight costume over his body, ignoring the remarks in his head which spoke about the pudginess he’d never been able to work off or the stretch marks from constant weight gain and loss, he felt more alive than he had all night.

Looking back into the mirror, he ignored the voices in his head and focussed on making his face presentable. Eyeliner brought the power to his eyes, but the mascara brought the doe-like look he was famous for. However, it was the simple yet elegant swipe of clear balm on his lips that completed the beautiful look.

Taking another deep breath, he pulled his lips into a smirk, winking at his own reflection. He could feel himself beginning slip into his performance persona. The final touch to pull stage persona out was his hair. Brushing his hair back, he pulled it back into a small bun though a few stray hairs escaped their tight confines.

He slowly stepped back from the mirror, his eyes running down the reflection of his entire body. He still avoided looking to his own eyes, not wanting to see the struggles in them, yet he knew that eventually he would have to. He began stretching his body for the strenuous activity that he’d be doing very soon. His thoughts were still occupied with his panic from before, but slowly he began entering a completely focussed mindspace.

Placing his hands on his hips, he kept his entire body motionless before slowly rotating his head from side to side. Up, and down, he moved his head, trying to awaken his neck. Rolling his shoulders and then rotating his arms around, he brought the muscles there to attention. Using his right arm, he pulled his left arm to the side and breathed deeply, feeling the slow burn building as he held it for two counts of eight.

He had already warmed his lower body up beforehand through some jogging, but after his panic attack, his muscles had begun cooling down once more. Thus, he began doing more dynamic stretches alongside his usual stretches.

Knowing that he would be forced to stretch his body beyond the extent most humans were able to, he took care to make sure that all of his positions were strong. He sighed, brooding over the time his legs had cramped in a performance. Flinching, he closed his eyes, already remembering the mortification he’d felt. His eyes slowly flickered open before sitting down onto the ground, keeping his hands on his lap. As he would be doing quite a few splits and leg stretches, he began with extending his legs and touching his toes, and then further, grasping his heels. He held it for a little while, smiling through the familiar pain.

Slowly building up through his stretches, from sitting in a straddle position and reaching out, to doing his lunges. Stepping into a forward lunge, he kept his back straight as his front leg slipped forward, and held the flexed form for thirty seconds. Then he stood once more before gliding into the forehead lunge. He straightened his front leg and arched his back over, his hands crossing over to lace over his lower calf. The stretch was much more evident here, but he relished in the pain.

The warming of his muscles slowly began melting the tension in his body, his confidence slowly improving. He still felt nervous, unhappy, and uncomfortable with himself, but his mind had begun to rewind, to suppress the panic. He had dealt with his anxiety almost all of his life, yet he found that even when he surrounded himself with supportive people he got in his own way.

Standing up, he moved to the side of the room, and swiftly lifted his left leg onto the barre. Keeping it straight, he reached over with his right arm, breathing in through his nose and then exhaling out slowly through his mouth. Holding that pose for thirty seconds, he then switched to his other leg and did the same motion again. Continuing with his barre stretches, he allowed himself to slip into one of his favourite stretches, extending his left leg to the side of his body, he held onto his foot tightly, while his other hand grasped onto the barre keeping his support.

Finally, he let go of his foot, only to pivot on his right foot and turn to face the barre once more. His arms switched positions to grasp the bar at a much farther position, pulling his core into a deep arch. His right arm then grasped his raised knee, pulling it up straight. He let himself bask in the beautiful stretch of the arabesque penchee before slowly letting his body down after a minute.

Pressing his hands against the mirror, he twisted his hips to the side, his final stretch. As he finished, he finally glanced up, seeing his nose barely brushing the reflective glass. A soft smirk stretched across his lips as he saw the final bit of tension leave his shoulders. Staring at his eyes, he was relieved to see that they had finally cleared, leaving his calm and focussed self behind.

Yuuri Katsuki was finally ready to take the stage by storm, to put all of him out there. Eros was ready to appear .

—

The doors made a soft creaking sound which was luckily lost in the cacophony of the backstage. A small grin rested on his lips as he walked through the bustling group of courtesans and court dancers. This was his home, he could feel the pre-performance jitters in performers and the managers. There was a strong smell of sweat and almost overwhelmingly strong perfume.

He noticed a group of resting performers all clumped in the back, clearly already performed, seeing as they were all covered in sweat. Backup dancers were essential to every performance. There was just something so freeing yet homely about dancing in a group of talented people.

Noticing a few of his friends, Yuuri waved at them before looking around the room. Spying the man he’d been looking for, he walked over. Taking a shaky breath he tapped Giacometti-san on the shoulder. Sometimes Yuuri was still in awe that he was allowed to work with such an amazing group. Giacometti had been in the ballet industry for a couple years longer than Yuuri, with his more unique style of ballet really taking the stage by storm.

Seeing the tight smile on his face, Yuuri tilted an eyebrow, confused since majority of the performances should have already been completed by the time Yuuri had gotten ready.

“Giacometti-san, is everything okay? You seem...worried?” Yuuri placed a hand gently on the other’s shoulder, before quickly removing it. He had never grown comfortable with much physical contact, especially with Japan being such a traditional country. Even his parents weren’t overly loving towards him. Truthfully, excessive physical contact terrified Yuuri thus he tended to keep it brief if he couldn’t avoid it.

“Yuuri~ I thought I told you that Chris was fine! I mean...if you’d like some other names,” Giacometti’s voice dropped to a deeper tonality, his voice soft and almost caressing Yuuri’s face, “I’m not opposed to any you would choose.” An arm had snaked around Yuuri’s waist, pulling him flush against the other man’s body which produced a stark blush on Yuuri’s face.

Placing his hands firmly on Giacom— Chris’ —chest, Yuuri pushed him away lightly, and took a step back. Summoning up his courage, even as his face burned, he replied while smirking, “But Chris...I couldn’t do that. What about Stéphane?” He could see the surprised look on Chris’ face and just continued speaking. “Anyway, what happened? You really looked upset?”

Chris’ face showed worry before he replied, “well, you know Sasha? She was supposed to close after you? As the most experienced courtesan and dancer.” The worry soon melted into a smirk as his eyes suddenly brightened with a thought. “She’s sick, and I know you don’t like performing last. But what if you did this time? I know that the last time wasn’t... perfect .”

No, perfect definitely wasn’t the word to describe his last performance. Even thinking of that time turned his stomach to knots. Closing his eyes, Yuuri forced the contents of his stomach down as he took a deep breath. It was time to try again. He couldn’t let it hold him back anymore. He hurt, but there was still something he felt he could give to the dancing world. Forcing his eyes open, he looked at Chris, ignoring the flicker of concern that passed across the man’s face, and spoke softly.

“I’ll do it. I can’t let that performance stop me.”

The large grin that spread across Chris’ face was enough for Yuuri to feel nervous once more, yet there was a sort of confidence in him. Someone believed enough in him, even after his mistakes.

He took a deep breath and headed towards the doorway, waiting for his cue to enter the royal court. He sat down against the wall, bringing one of his legs up to his chest and crossed his arms gracefully around it. A couple of the other performers from that night walked towards him. His friend, Phichit Chulanont, and a couple of the younger courtesans—Guang Hong Ji and Leo de la Iglesia. Having seen Yuuri looking at them, Phichit clapped his hands together, his bright smile infectious, pulling a small smile from Yuuri.

“Yuuri! I heard that you’re going to perform the final dance! I’m so happy for you.” Phichit gracefully sunk down to sit beside him, motioning for Guang Hong and Leo to sit down as well. Nodding his head in thanks, Yuuri took another deep breath, expelling the air from his lungs slowly. He was extremely nervous to perform as the last dancer, knowing that his performance would be the one most easily remembered. Yet, he couldn’t help the rush flowing through him at the thought of being able to perform.

Phichit reached out to grab his hand, squeezing gently. Yuuri glanced at their hands, his eyes slowly travelling up Phichit’s arm to lock eyes with him. Smiling gently, Phichit spoke, “I know you’re worried, but I really believe in you. It’ll go amazing this time. I promise .” At that Leo and Guang Hong also chimed in their words of support, which made Yuuri’s smile grow larger. He took another deep breath, and squared his shoulders before nodding at Phichit.

“I can do this.”

Hearing the soft steps of someone walking, he saw a younger boy hovering near their group obviously wanting to say something but not wanting to interfere. Smiling what he hoped was a reassuring smile, he beckoned the boy to come over, “you can join us. We’re not busy or anything.” At first Yuuri thought he’d come join them, even Phichit and the others were nodding, but to their astonishment, tears built up in the younger boy’s eyes.

Scrambling up, Yuuri walked over quickly, worry filling his entire body. “Are you okay, are you hurt? Did I do something? Is everything okay? What’s wrong?” He threw out the questions hoping for an answer but only received an extremely watery smile and a few hiccups. However, the younger boy looked fine to him at the least.

“Katsuki-senpai!” The younger boy wailed slightly, pulling a surprised gasp from Yuuri’s lips. He hadn’t heard much Japanese since he’d stepped into Russia a few months prior. Minako-sensei had been quick to switch to Russian to keep him fluent. Furthermore, a younger dancer knowing who he was? Yuuri wasn’t very popular in Russia so this was a surprise.

Coughing into his hands awkwardly, Yuuri tilted his head to the side slightly, replying slowly. “Er, yes...I’m sorry, what’s your name? Did you want something?” He walked a little closer, hoping that the younger boy, who in hindsight looked a little familiar, would be more comfortable. But, unsurprisingly, he quickly backed away, tears still in his eyes as he almost shouted his response.

“I’m okay senpai!! I can’t believe you’re speaking to me! This...this is...” the boy covered his mouth as he noticed Yuuri’s growing anxiety at the entire room’s attention on them. Taking a deep breath, he moved his hands to his side and continued speaking, “this is a dream come true. You’re...I mean I’m such a huge fan Katsuki-senpai!”

Blushing slightly, Yuuri stuttered out a reply, “oh...erm...” He chuckled awkwardly trying to act normal, but the blush on his face and uncomfort in his stance was blatant for anyone to see. Rubbing the back of his head he replied shyly, “thank you...erm what’s your nam—”

The boy quickly cut him off to shout his name before quickly slapping his hands on his mouth, “Minami Kenjirou!”

Seeing how panicked Minami looked, Yuuri couldn’t help but laugh lightly, it was cute, in an extremely loud and lively way. “Well it’s nice to meet you Minami-kun, though I have to admit...I’m not really sure why you’re so amazed to see me?” Self-consciously he looked away, glancing back at Phichit who just threw a thumbs-up at him. Thanks Phichit .

That question seemed to shock the younger boy who quickly began gesticulating wordlessly, opening and closing his mouth as if speaking, before realizing he hadn’t made any noise. Colouring even more, Minami took a deep breath and began speaking, “I’m a ....I’m a huge fan Katsuki-senpai! I’ve been following your dancing career for nearly ten years! You’re beautiful on the stage.”

Yuuri’s face was bright red, but it was Minami’s final words that made his face turn completely red.

“You’re the Dance Queen of Japan! I’ve been trying to reach your level for years! I’m wearing your costume for my favourite performance of yours! Lohengrin .” Minami quickly opened the overcoat he’d been wearing to show a very familiar outfit.

Even Phichit who had been standing beside him seemed shocked. Yuuri hadn’t expected to meet anyone who knew him here from Japan. It was true in Japan that Yuuri was quite famous, holding the title of Japan’s best dancer, but really Yuuri was just a dime-a-dozen dancer. Nothing special. But before he could convey any of this to the younger dancer, Minami was quickly pulled away by one of the stage hands. It was time for Minami to perform and then Yuuri would take the stage as the final dancer.

A little while later he was standing at the closed doors that lead into the royal court. Taking a deep breath, he glanced back at the dancers who had followed him to watch his dance. Nodding awkwardly, he let the air out of his lungs. He slowly pushed open the doors with both his hands, closing his eyes for a second. His eyes burned with a passion that hadn’t been seen before.

“ Let’s do this .”

—

Walking into the room, his eyes moved around the room discreetly, noticing his other dancers taking the stairs to the viewing balcony. He could see courtiers speaking to each other, tittering to themselves behind their hand-covered mouths. Though he didn’t necessarily feel the confidence, he was already exuding an aura of sultriness and beauty. He had become the character he embodied in the dance — illustrious and seductive. Winking at the ladies-in-waiting he smirked at their blushes.

As he glanced around the room, his eyes inevitably moved towards grandiose royal family. But his eyes remained glued to the Crown Prince, Viktor Nikiforov, heir to the royal throne of Russia and the future Tsar. Their majesties, the Tsar and Tsarina were a truly magnificent pair, and his royal highness, Prince Yuri Nikiforov, the second in line was just as powerful a character. However, even then, Yuuri only had eyes for the older prince.

As he approached the center of the room, he bowed gracefully at the waist, giving the royal family the respect they deserved. However, unlike any other dancer, Yuuri also turned towards the rest of the room, giving a half bow in respect towards his audience. Introductions would be presented after his performance but the minute he entered the room, Yuuri was a performer. Respect was owed to the audience as much as it was owed to him.

Nodding towards the musicians, Yuuri got into position for his act to begin. As the first strums of the guitar came through, he raised his arms and began the routine.

Keeping his eyes locked on Viktor’s face, he let himself pull Eros into the open. He moved his arms sensually down his body, his hip cocked to the side. Licking his lips slightly he winked at Viktor eliciting a soft whistle from the Prince.

The song had originally been a story of a playboy’s games with a beautiful lady but Yuuri had never connected with the confident and strong male character. Instead he had embraced his more feminine side. He became, not the playboy, but the seductress, toying and tempting the man as he entered her city.

She was the one in power, and through her dance, she kept each eye on her. Yuuri pulled every straying eye onto himself. Never allowing anyone's glance to bore.

As he danced, Yuuri kept glancing over at the prince, completely enthralled with the royal. The dance slowly reached its crescendo as he leapt into the air, smoothly completing his grand jeté. Gliding across the room, Yuuri allowed himself the moment to purely enjoy his craft.

Dance was his salvation, and his home. There was nothing Yuuri loved more, but at times it was also the thing he hated the most. The demands of a career in dance were tough, hard to handle.

Yet, as he wound down from the final difficult step sequence, he could see that he had kept the entire audience enthralled with his enticing performance. Nearly complete, he slipped into his final stance, and his calling card. Gently lifting his left leg, he kept his body steady with his supporting right leg. His left arm extended back while his right arm stretched in front of him, pointing towards the front of the room, unintentionally towards Prince Viktor.

His hand seemed to cup Viktor's face as Yuuri settled into his final arabesque.

The brilliant smile on Viktor's face, mirrored his own amid the bright red blush spreading across his face.

As the music died down, he put his leg down, settling back into first position before taking his bow. His eyes never left Viktor's face, and only when his head was tilted down did he look somewhere else. He was quick, however, to gaze back at the Prince once more.

His blush intensified, though his smile was steady as Viktor clapped gracefully at his performance.

#yuri on ice #viktuuri #victuuri #yuuri katsuki #viktor nikiforov #victor nikiforov #yuri!!! on ice #royalty au #courtesan au #dancer au #chapter 1 #arabesque #hey ray how vague can you make a summary?#ray ray writes #thank you eve and jd!#i really appreciate the help guys!

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