lucycamui:

Victor felt as if he were no longer solid, but floating like a newly formed cloud unweighted by rain. The last time they had gone to a market together, Yuuri had come springing back to him, shimmering in his excitement. He had bought a beautiful brush for Victor’s hair, for the days when it became unruly enough that Yuuri could not comb it with his fingers. He was making well use of the gift.

The firm bristles massaged at Victor’s scalp along with the gentle movement of Yuuri’s fingers as he sectioned Victor’s hair, brushing root to tip. Victor laid with his head in Yuuri’s lap, eyes closed, never not appreciating how Yuuri doted on him.

Yuuri always took his time when he tended to Victor’s hair and Victor never rushed him. Sometimes Victor would talk, telling Yuuri stories, answering any of the questions that Yuuri traced onto his biceps. Sometimes Yuuri would hum, inventing melodies, weaving tunes until words began to spill into a song.

That night, Yuuri had sung to Victor about a river made of flowing moonlight, incorporating lines about the stubbornness of pebbles that blocked its current whenever his brush snagged on a tangle in Victor’s hair. Yuuri’s affection and spotted irritation burrowed into his chest with the magic of the siren’s music, and Victor never wanted it any other way. 

Lashes fluttering open, Victor gazed up at Yuuri. The cutest focus furrowed Yuuri’s brows as he separated sections of Victor’s hair, undoubtedly trying to decide how he was going to braid them for that night. His ear feathers were out and they twitched as Yuuri scowled at himself, displeased with whatever concept he had come up with. Victor had to laugh.

“Yuuri…” Reaching up, he brushed his knuckles along one of Yuuri’s cheeks, smiling when Yuuri immediatly nuzzled in. “Lovebird, I was wondering… Do you… did you have a family? How do sirens grow up? Were you always alone before me?”

The play of Yuuri’s fingers faultered, his ministrations settling. He shook his head, tracing his response over the curve of Victor’s shoulder. I have a family.

“They’re sirens like you?”

Yuuri nodded, returning to tending Victor’s hair.

“Were they a good family to you?”

Smiling, Yuuri slipped his fingers between silver strands, crossing the sections one over the other. “Yes. They taught me almost everything I know,” he spoke quietly, his voice hushed. “How to hunt, how to sing, how to navigate at night by mapping the stars.”

Victor closed his eyes, greedy for how sweetly Yuuri’s voice sounded in his ears. Yuuri speaking was always his greatest treasure and he did not want to miss a syllable. “Were you a good child?”

Yuuri hummed in consideration. “Sometimes. I often got in trouble for trying to do too much, especially when I was with my sister. I tried to fly to the moon once, because I thought it was close enough that I could reach it. She didn’t tell me otherwise.”

Victor’s eyes snapped open. “You have a sister?”

“An older sister. Mari,” Yuuri replied, fingers deft at turning the shining sheet of Victor’s hair into a neat braid, loose enough for him to sleep with comfortably but tight enough not to unravel into a messy nest by morning. “When I was little, she would often encourage me to do all the things that my parents said I shouldn’t.”

Victor clutched at his chest, hands bunched over his Lovebird tattoo.

Yuuri blinked curiously, brown eyes wide.

“My heart,” Victor cooed, dropping the back of one hand against his forehead in imitation of a swoon. “The idea of a tiny siren Yuuri. So cute. Did you have little wings and adorably chubby cheeks?”

Laughing, Yuuri blushed, his ear tufts twitching again. He nodded.

Victor awwwed himself into oblivion, fidgeting and promising to commission Minami to sketch him such a deathly cute image, gushing about how sweet Yuuri’s childhood chirps must have sounded until Yuuri ordered him still. Victor obeyed, still smiling wide, and pressed Yuuri for stories.