Glowing eyes all around him and a purple haze vanished as he came back to the realm of consciousness, the details of the image fading, but not enough to forget how he’d felt.
For just a few moments, Yuuri didn’t try to move. Instead he focused on grounding himself to that reality. The Rift seemed to be a constant theme in his nightmares, and yet no matter how strong he grew he could never seem to shake the overwhelming dread whenever he found himself alone in that scene. He reminded himself that there was no reason why he would be in the Rift without his General, or another General, as his escort. He was useful enough as Kamacite that allowing him to be devoured by the Rift’s inhabitants would be an unnecessary loss of resources.
His dreams didn’t seem to believe that.
Yuuri pushed himself up enough to turn over, hoping the movement would be enough to banish the remnants of those glowing eyes and purple haze from his thoughts. He reached out to throw his arm over the source of warmth next to him, but when his hand met nothing but cool sheets he finally, blurrily, opened his eyes to blink into the darkness.
What he expected to see that he couldn’t already feel, he wasn’t sure. Maybe to prove to himself that he was really where he thought he was.
Where else would you be? his slowly waking brain asked, and Yuuri responded with a disgruntled expression, before finally placing the palm of his hand under him to push himself up fully, despite wanting to remain under the warmth of the blankets and sheets.
Turning back over to reach for the table next to the bed, Yuuri sleepily pulled open the drawer to fish out the thick rimmed glasses he refused to wear in public. He refused to wear them around people (and talking cats) in general, but after receiving one too many pointed looks, Yuuri conceded to wear them whenever he was attempting to move from one room to another.
There was never a verbal agreement made, nor was there any voiced comment about his inability to see much more than blurry shapes without aide. Speech wasn’t their preferred way of communication anyway. Yuuri didn’t even need to see the expressions directed at him to know that he needed to make some concessions to his dislike for something uncomfortably pressing onto his nose and ears, and the embarrassment he felt for being even more flawed than already assumed by first glance. If he hadn’t decided to start wearing his glasses more frequently, he wasn’t entirely sure what would have happened, but he’d been dragged to doctors and therapists before, so it wasn’t completely out of place to expect something potentially drastic. So as long as no one else was around, he would begrudgingly wear the damned things.
After taking a couple moments of using his feet to find his slippers, Yuuri pushed himself out of the large bed, and reached back to pull his side of the sheets and blankets up to match the side that had gone untouched that night. He tried to will himself not to be concerned, but knowing that there had been a planned mission the prior evening, and with no sign of anyone coming back to the warehouse, and no messages on his phone, that inkling of fear threatened to seep in and overtake his thoughts.
Nothing will happen to me.
Whenever he did feel this kind of apprehension, those words seemed to echo in the back of his head. Those words gave him a slight reprieve from the seeping fear, and instead replaced that feeling with reluctant trust and, quite frankly, annoyance.
You can’t promise that.
No one knew what would happen. Even more so now than ever. Having separate Generals meant they received different orders, different missions, different amounts of freedom. With Wolfeite, Kamacite was more or less free to do as he pleased, as long as he obtained the required amounts of energy to meet quota. For Aue, for someone who wanted and needed more structure than the unpredictability Wolfeite offered, it was entirely different. He was no longer privy to the details of the orders Aue received, and although he supposed it was probably good that he didn’t know, he couldn’t stop himself from wishing he was at least there to make sure he could do something.
Since they weren’t exactly the types to hold long conversations, Yuuri still was unsure of where he stood now that things were different. Were they still a “pack”? He liked to think so, since he’d decided Faustite was part of his pack, despite having a different General. For Yuuri, it was his choice. But for Lauri…
You’re still living here, Yuuri. You’re welcome here. You’re safe here. You wouldn’t be here if Lauri didn’t want you here.
A year and a half ago, Yuuri wasn’t sure he could have convinced himself. No, he knew he wouldn’t have been able to. His own self-loathing and self-doubt kept him from being able to process anything beyond negative thoughts about himself. He couldn’t prove to himself his own worth, and had feared that one day the Negaverse would no longer need him.
But even with all of his mistakes and imperfection, he was still there.
For over two years he had been a senshi, and he’d been allowed to live. He’d been promoted not once, but twice. That had to count for something, right?
Yuuri had found his robe and made it into the bathroom by that point. He wiggled his fingers under the warming water from the faucet as he waited for the right temperature, and made disapproving faces at his-bespectacled-self in the mirror. Despite being an adult, he still looked young. His sleep messy hair made him look even younger. How anyone could assume he was older than he really was and not younger was beyond him, although he figured he shouldn’t be complaining.
Objectively speaking, he was a handsome young man.
No, handsome wasn’t the right word. His features were too soft to be considered handsome. Lauri was handsome. Adrien was handsome. Even General Schorl was handsome. He supposed that was why the universe gave Kamacite a mix of traditionally male and female clothing for his uniform.
But he wasn’t pretty, either. Even the memory of Adrien calling him beautiful made him cringe. Or maybe he just didn’t want to be considered pretty or beautiful because those like Tiberius make fun of him for it, or thought poorly of him.
Let them underestimate you. They’ll regret it.
Objectively speaking… Yuuri was elegant. Long fingers, neck, and limbs. Well proportioned facial features. Ambiguously exotic, he was sure some thought. Dominant Japanese genes merged with obviously Scandinavian facial features like his nose and cheeks and thinner face. After years of being outcast for his appearance, it was difficult to persuade himself that he could be seen as attractive.
Elegance in his appearance he may be, but that didn’t make up for his awkwardness.
He knew he fidgeted too much, kept his eyes averted from others, did his best to avoid or flee social situations, couldn’t bring himself to say no for fear of insulting others. Lauri had at least realized this about him, and it was probably why Yuuri felt so comfortable around him. Not many others picked up on that.
Yuuri had been concerned that when he told Lauri he thought his Finnish liquorice candy had an interesting taste that Lauri would try to give him more. But even with that disgusting black ice cream in the freezer, Lauri never offered him any, and instead gave him options for other frozen treats.
You better be okay.
Glasses were set aside so he could duck his head down towards the sink to wash his face, scrubbing away the lingering exhaustion that never seemed to disappear completely, then grabbed a towel from the counter to pat the water away.
If he’d been told two years ago that he would be washing his face and brushing his teeth in that very bathroom, he would have never believed it. Two years ago, a dour looking Finnish man hauled him there when Yuuri had all but passed out from shock when his ankle had been injured. He’d been frightened, had been given harsh commands, words short and to the point as though he couldn’t understand otherwise.
But Lauri did not have to stop on his way home in the pouring rain to help a complete stranger. And when it was obvious that Yuuri was scared, Lauri’s demeanor had changed to something much more reassuring and sympathetic. Or at least as sympathetic as Lauri could manage.
You better not be risking your life for some stupid reason.
And he hoped no one else he knew was risking their life. Was Faustite part of the mission? Would he be in danger as well? Maybe no one was in danger and his imagination was getting the better of him. He hated not knowing. He hated not being there, wherever there was. Not because he wanted a different General. No, someone needed to make sure Wolfeite didn’t get consumed completely by his youma side. But unlike in the tournament when he could immediately assist, he was left sitting and waiting.
If Lauri was out, that meant Tiberius was most likely not there, and that was the only reason Yuuri ventured out into the hall with his glasses and tousled hair, arms wrapped tightly around himself to defend against the chill in the air.
He had class later that day. It was almost surreal to think that he could go from being Kamacite at night, to being just another college student during the day. And working on a major he doubted would have many job prospects. But would it matter if he ended up having to stay in Negaspace in order to remain in the country?
It was one of the many things he definitely didn’t want to think about. His Visa expiring. With the country’s current economy and political turmoil, Yuuri had very little hope that he would be welcomed as a citizen with open arms. Going back to Japan wasn’t an option. If he was deported, he knew he would never go back to his father’s home. He would rather live and die on the streets than see his family again.
France would have been his first option if he wasn’t able to stay. France was where he felt most comfortable. Unfortunately, the Negaverse letting one of their senshi go to another country was unlikely. And Wolfeite definitely wouldn’t allow it.
Before Kisa could wake up to leave the dock, the first thing Yuuri did when he got down the stairs was go over to the ankle biter and opened up the compartment where the dust and dirt was kept. He held no ill feelings towards the little vacuum, and often wished he had a remote for it when other people were there, so he could have it run over their feet over and over until they finally left. Petty, maybe.
He took the filter with him to the kitchen so he could shake it out into the trash. He would put it back once he was ready to go upstairs, and let Kisa do its thing. For the moment, it was left on the counter by the sink. A little container of coffee was put into the coffee maker, and a mug placed under the dispenser. Normally he was fine with just using instant, but these little packets were convenient and fast.
A poptart was pulled out from the box in the cabinet as well. Lauri wasn’t there to watch him with his judging expression until Yuuri ate something more substantial, after all.
Maybe you should be here, and then I’d consider eating more.
As if Lauri would even know he was just eating a poptart to spite him. It wasn’t so much spiteing Lauri as it was doing himself a disservice, but he’d already woken up early and his stomach felt queasy with concern that he tried to ignore.
It wasn’t until his coffee had finished brewing, which he held in one hand, had the container to return to Kisa in the other, and had a poptart held in his mouth between his teeth, that he noticed the envelope on the table.
Strange. It wasn’t like Lauri to leave things around. Maybe it was Tiberius’s doing. Somehow. Even with his lack of opposable thumbs.
Curious as always, Yuuri took a step closer to try and inspect it. While also trying not to let the poptart break from his teeth and fall. The envelope seemed to be placed purposefully, and not haphazardly left. Maybe something Lauri was working on that he planned on picking up once he returned home? But then why not just leave it in his workshop?
The poptart really did break and fall when he caught sight of the name scrawled across the front. In his attempt to catch the poptart, he managed to slosh his coffee onto the floor and over his house robe, nearly lost his glasses as they slid down his nose, but, miraculously, held onto the waste compartment for Kisa.
As if seeing his name on the envelope wasn’t enough to give him a heart attack, he had to make a mess and shoot his adrenaline through the roof.
Yuuri didn’t look at the envelop again, but instead placed his mug on the counter and shuffled over to the sink to wash his hands and grab a towel to clean himself off. He could already feel the heat rising in his face, which he would insist was just embarrassment, but his heightened anxiety would say otherwise.
Why was there something with his name on it left out in the open? Was it a report on him? Maybe doctors records that Lauri kept track of because why wouldn’t he keep a record of things that pertain to health and finances?
He crouched onto the ground as he moped up the coffee, free hand pressed over his heart to try and calm himself down, especially as his thoughts took a darker turn.
What if it was Lauri’s will? What if he’d left important information for Yuuri in the event something happened to him? What if it was his final instructions? What would it even say? Burn down the warehouse? Delete his browser history?
Stop. Don’t be stupid.
The towel was returned to the sink and Yuuri warily turned back to look at the envelope across the room. The remnants of his poptart had been recovered and he shoved a piece into his mouth because the floors were clean (he would know because he’d cleaned them) and if he was going to die, it wasn’t going to be from contaminated poptarts. He decided to chug what was left of his coffee as well, which he regretted a little as it burned his throat, but at least he wouldn’t spill it everywhere again.
Resolutely, Yuuri shoved his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and forced himself to take the required steps to where the envelope was resting.
There was nothing special about it. It was a typical brown envelope. Standard size. But it wasn’t just his name on it, he noticed now. It had For Yuuri on it.
Merde. It is his will… He knew I couldn’t resist wanting to open it. b*****d. If he’s really dead, I swear I’ll kill him.
With a deep breath and shaky hands, Yuuri picked up the envelope. It wasn’t very heavy, which was strange because he expected a will to be a stack of pages. He carefully slid his finger under the seal to slowly tear it open.
Inside were a few things. First, which he thought was strange, was a passport that slid out. He already had a passport, so why he would need a new one confused him. The second thing was a new government ID card.
His heart skipped a beat. The heat in his face from his recent embarrassment was quickly returning. His eyes were stinging now, which was absolutely ridiculous and stupid.
Breathe. Pull yourself together, Yuuri.
The last page was gingerly removed from the envelope as Yuuri’s heart continued to try and beat out of his chest.
The edges were adorned with intricate scrollwork. An eagle with outstretched wings, holding arrows in one set of talons, and a leafy branch in the other, was displayed in the center under words in scripted font. Yuuri’s picture was on the left. He looked sad in it, he noticed. The picture had been taken a while back, before he’d felt more comfortable with himself.
And across the top, under the words The United States of America was Certificate of Naturalization.
For so long he had a deep seeded fear of being sent out of the country, of being forced to go back to Japan, or even forced to take up residence in Negaspace. The rush of relief and gratitude was so overwhelming that he had to lower himself to the floor to sit. Tears poured from his eyes as he sobbed, forehead pressed against the side of the cabinet. His glasses had to be removed because they were getting wet, and gently placed on the floor next to him.
It was no wonder why Lauri didn’t hand the envelope to him, but instead waited for him to find it. He was grateful that no one else was there at the warehouse, and he wondered if that was one of the reasons why Lauri wasn’t there. Not because his life had been threatened and was in the hospital, but because he knew Yuuri wouldn’t have wanted anyone to see him like this. Utterly gross and pathetic. Not to mention it would be awkward as hell for Lauri to see Yuuri devolve into the puddle of tears he’d become. Again.
Sure, they were fake documents, with his new status as a citizen on updated forms of identification, but they were damn good fakes. How he could ever repay Lauri back, he didn’t know. He would probably be paying him back for the rest of his life, if Lauri would allow it.
Yuuri wasn’t sure how long he’d sat on the ground, but it wasn’t until he’d finally calmed down with only hiccups left that he put his glasses back on and saw the corner of the fourth and last thing that had been inside the envelope.
A slip of paper with three words written on it:
Happy Birthday, Yuuri