The snow fell lightly over Yurio as he walked through the unfamiliar streets. Unsure, he glanced at his phone, which held an image of the map that Otabek had sent him.

Biting his lip, he walked several blocks, white snowflakes scattering over his light-blonde hair, which was long enough to reach just above his shoulders.

Yurio hugged his arms around himself tighter, then exhaled in relief when he recognized the street name. "Otterbrooke," he breathed, his breath puffing out in front of him. He began to jog, the houses passing quickly, his eagerness ahead of him. 23... 25!

He let a small smile reach his lips. It was a tall, wooden-slatted house with warm light peeking from the windows. A silver-tinsel-decorated christmas tree stood by one of the windows, red and gold ornaments hanging on the branches.

The knocker was a lion, which Yurio adored. He carefully tapped the handle, then stepped back. He hear muffled voices, then the sound of footsteps, before the door opened to... "Otabek..."

Yurio's best friend grinned at the sight of Yurio, his black hair neat and jelled. Yurio wasted to run his fingers through it- What was he thinking?! Otabek was his friend. And, as far as Otabek knew, that was all Yurio wanted it to be. Otabek didn't know about Yurio's almost hopeless infatuation with Otabek, nor his effect on Yurio's heart.

But then Otabek reached through the doorway and pulled Yurio into his arms, his red and white Christmas sweater smelling of cologne and beer. Yurio melted into Otabek, stepping forward.

"Thanks for coming, Yurotchka." Something about the way Otabek said Yurio's full name, the syllables blending into one, even sound, made the younger boy's heart leap. It always did.

Otabek pulled away all too soon, but then replaced the warmth with his hand lightly around Yurio's wrist, pulling him into the brightly-lit house.

Otabek unzipped Yurio's jacket and then stepped behind him, fingertips pressing into Yurio's shoulders as he pulled off his coat, fingertips trailing down his back.

Yurio kicked off his snow-encrusted sneakers, revealing leopard-print ankle socks that Otabek laughed at, all too sweet with a twinkle in his eye, "сен сүйкімдісің," he murmured, and Yurio recognized the sound of the phrase, as after Otabek had yelled it at him, drunk at the after party, the blushing teenager had searched for a good half hour for it's meaning, eventually realizing that it's direct translation was, "You are cute."

Blush dusted over Yurio's cheeks as he followed Otabek into the kitchen. An aging, black-haired woman wore oven mittens, leaning over a pot of something that scent was wafting into Yurio's nose, making his stomach clench with hunger.

The woman, who must've been Otabek's mother, smiled warmly at Yurio, her eyes so dark they were almost black, but still welcoming.

"Ah! Yuratchka!" It was no surprise that she knew his full name, but Yruio still sent a glance back t a guilty-looking Otabek. Though her voice was deep with an accent, and her english was poor, Yurio could understand her means. Especially when she pulled out a photo album with an intricately embroidered cover out from a shelf.

"Otabek, why don't you show this to Yuratchka?" Otabek laughed nervously, quickly taking the book and hiding it behind his back.

"Not now, анам." He dodged his mother, trying to escape with the book, but Yurio easily slid in front of him and snatched the book away.

"Yurio... please." There was a pained look on Otabek's voice, but Yurio and Otabek's mother made eye contact and they laughed on cue, then dragged Otabek to the couch where Yurio sat between mother and son, picture album, placed, open on his lap.

For the next hour, while the pork cooked slowly and the beans baked, they laughed over 3-year-old Otabek in a bubbled bathtub, giggling, front teeth as white as the snow outside, 5-year-old Otabek riding his bike, and 7 year-old otabek on halloween, wearing a rip-off spiderman costume, puffing his small chest out proudly.

Then him as a toddler in his first pair of skates,wobbling uncontrollably, then him grinning up at the camera, eyes closed, sitting down on the ice, obviousl yjust after a fall, but smiling like a dork.

Once Otabek was so embarrassed that his cheeks were a deep, rosy tomato shade, they ate the delicious meal, Yurio's knees pressed pleasantly against Otabelk's.

When done, Yurio offered to do the dishes, but Otabek's mother ushered them upstairs to her son's room.

"You're sleeping over, right Yurotchka?" She called, and Yurio's heart nearly stopped. Was he? He glanced to Otabek who merely smiled.

"Yes please, ma'am," he called bback shakily.

"Okay..." her cheery voice was drowned out by the sound of the sink faucet running. Otabek tugged Yurio's shirtsleeve up the stairs, dragging him up to a blue-painted door, then grandly opening it, unveiling his room of 23 years.

It was relatively plain, Yurio quietly observed, a large bookcase standing squat in the corner, a shelf attached to the wall holding man trophies and medals from various occassions.

An interesting display on the wall Yurio noticed, under the shelf. Five nails were hammered into the wall, each holding a pair of skates. From the smallest skates, fitting a mere toddler, then slowly increasing in size until reaching the last two, the fourth being Otabek's practicing skates, firm leather and scuff marks, and the fifth being his competition skates, matte black, supportive around the ankles, strong laces, and sharp, gold-painted blades.

Yurio smiled to himself. So Beka was sentimental?

Otabek passed Yurio to flop down on his bed. Yurio noticed a few stray glow in the dark stars stuck on Otabek's ceiling.

Suddenly, Otabek grabbed Yurio's wrist and gently tugged him down onto the bed next to him. A small gasp escaped Yurio's lips, but when he turned to face Otabek, their faces were frighteningly close. Yurio's pulse elevated and he gulped down a heavy breath.

"Ota...bek?" he breathed. Their hands found each other's on the soft bed, interlacing, some sort of intimacy about having their palms pressed together, and Yuri felt Otabek squeeze his hand slightly.

His cheeks suddenly felt too warm. With a shaky exhale, his vision blurred slightly.

"Yurio, I..." Otabek's voice was so close. And then Otabek, the same beautiful Otabek that Yurio had clung to as they rode away on his moped, shaken hands with on the sunset roof, and laughed over the table with, that same hilarious, talented, gorgeous, Kazakh boy, inched his face closer, and brushed his lips against Yurio's.

Yurio's eyes widened as the feel of Otabek's soft, pink lips burned pleasantly onto his own. He was suddenly overwhelmed. Breath fast, heart cartwheeling, he pulled Otabek away, sat up, and then dashed out the door, managing to choke out, "I need some fresh air," to a confused and hurt Otabek.

Yurio stumbled down the stair and out the door, not catching the words that Otabek's mother called to him. It was snowing harder now, and the sun had set, leaving his only light source a streetlamp.

Yurio paced, the snowflakes landing on his bare arms and neck. He suddenly remembered that he wasn't wearing shoes, and the cold snow began to penetrate through his socks. He clutched his head, was this real? Did Otabek actually kiss him? Was it a mistake? Yurio groaned loudly, breathing in frantic gasps.

Why was he overreacting? Why the hell didn't he kiss back! Otabek probably thought Yurio didn't have feelings for him- Suddenly, the door opened.

Otabek stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the foyer light, heavy boots on. Yurio froze, hands still knotted in his hair. "Beka, I-"

"Yurio, please don't apologize." Otabek closed the door behind him and walked down the steps slowly, head down. "It was my fault for kissing you. I'm the one who's sorry. I should've known that you didn't care for me in that way."

"No, Otabek, you've got it all wrong, I-"

"Please. I'm okay. I just hope this doesn't hurt our friendship too much-" Just shut up and listen to me!

Yurio flung himself forward, smashing his lips to Otabek's.He moved his lips feverishly against Otabek's until he responded, and suddenly, Yurio was warm.

Otabek lifted Yurio off the freezing ground, and Yurio could only wrap his legs around Otabek's waist, and his hands around the tall boy's neck.

His hand's found Otabek's hair, twisting into the dark strands, unknowingly overwhelming Otabek as he could only support Yurio's waist, pressing their torsos closer.

Yurio sighed over Otabeks mouth, his tongue skating over the older boy's lips, then slowly moving into his mouth, a taste of faint espresso coating his taste buds as he explored Otabeks mouth.

It was a weird feeling, their tongues tussling gently, and Yurio wasn't sure if he was doing it right, but he moaned slightly, before clamping his mouth closed, embarrassed.

But Otabek smirked, as he loved the moan. When they pulled away, a small string of saliva connected them until it broke, and both stared into each other's eyes.

"I'm sorry. I really do like you like this," Yurio muttered.

"It's okay. I do too."

The snow fell around them slightly, and the street lamp illuminated each other's swollen lips and wide eyes.

"Let's get you inside, I don't want you catching cold now."