“Does it bother you,” Yuuri asks, eyes downcast, “that I’ll never be able to return your flowers?” He looks so sad, shoulders hunched to make himself seem as small as possible, unable to meet his gaze.
Viktor pauses. Perhaps if he had been anyone else—been in love with anyone else—it would be different. But Viktor still vividly remembers the taste of marigolds on his lips, the feeling of thorny vines clawing up his throat until he was doubled over and hacking blood. He imagines what Yuuri must have felt, only fourteen-years-old but drowning in flowers, in love with someone who didn’t even knew he existed. He must have been so frightened, Viktor thinks.
“It doesn’t.”
Wherein Hanahaki is the physical representation of love and Viktor’s been running from flowers all his life.
Vicchan has a crush on their neighbor across the balcony, and so does his owner.
Yuuri, certified Dog-Dad™, will do anything for his beloved poodle—even if that means constantly embarrassing himself in front of his devastatingly attractive neighbor.
For some reason, the man—Viktor—sits in front of him, silver hair flouncing as he settles comfortably into the chair, introducing himself as Yuuri’s new math tutor with an easy smile.
And Yuuri, 25 years old with a Ph.D. in Applied Mathematics…doesn’t correct him.
(Viktor mistakes Yuuri for a high school student struggling with Geometry. Yuuri’s too awkward to figure out how to tell him otherwise.)