Fics like with both feet on the ground

Yuuri knows the man in front of him. He’d know him even without his glasses, even if he couldn’t see at all and could only hear the distinctive rush of blades on ice. There’s no question, because Yuuri’s bedroom is plastered with this face. It’s not the exact same face from Yuuri’s posters. The man on the beach is thinner, his chin and cheeks prickling with thick stubble, and his silvery hair is shaggy, longer than Yuuri’s idol has worn in years, but still in that moment Yuuri has no doubts. He’d recognize those eyes anywhere. But Victor Nikiforov can’t be on a beach in Kyushu right now. More than that, he can’t be here with his hair hanging so long it sweeps his shoulders, his cheekbones hollow and his collarbones protruding, wearing clothes that seem to have been through a typhoon. He can’t be here right now, because Yuuri watched Victor Nikiforov leverage his signature quad flip to take second in the short program during the World Championships in Tokyo last night.

Fics like with both feet on the ground

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