'Can I ask you a question?' Otabek put a hand on his mother's shoulder, slipping in beside her to help her with the dishes. He found her easiest to talk to when her hands were distracted and she could focus a bit more on what was immediate, rather than work that needed to be done. He dried as she washed, and after she'd finished a bowl she replied.
'Ask away.'
'It's not a nice one.'
'That's okay, I signed up for this when I gave birth to you.'
'What do you know about anorexia?'
Her hands froze for a moment and she took a moment to recompose herself before beginning to scrub again.
'Why?'
'One of my friends.'
'Is she okay?'
'He, actually. I want to help him but I don't really know what I can do. He's already seeing a doctor but I'm worried for him.'
'Have you tried talking to him?'
'Yeah. He doesn't really like to talk about it, though.'
'Then don't make him. Talk to him about other things; let him find happiness and maybe that will help.'
'Your advice is pretty good,' He hugged her, and she stroked his back.
'How did you become such a good person?'
'Raised by one of the best.'
'Now you're sucking up to me. Let me guess, you want to go out?'
'Do you mind?' He chuckled, amazed by how quickly she'd seen through him. The idea had only really come to him in the middle of the conversation when she'd told him to make Yuri happy. He didn't know if he'd be free, but he wanted to at least try to cheer him up. He'd sent him plenty of texts, but only received one that said he was taking a day off school because he was afraid to face the music. He sent him a text now to ask if he was around, along with several other friends he hadn't seen in a while.
'You're 19. You're allowed to have a life.'
He kissed her on the cheek, thanking her, before tidying away the rest of the dishes and mooching off to his room. He didn't get a reply from Yuri for several hours, by which point the plans were already made and all his friends were on their way down. He asked him to meet at a park near to the school, assuming he'd live somewhere nearby. He insisted that all his friends would be super nice and he'd love all of them, so he didn't need to worry. Yuri was adamant that he wasn't worried in the first place, and Otabek got the feeling he was happy to escape his house and to hang out with the 'big boys'. He'd partially forgotten that there was an almost four year age gap between them, and he wondered if he was immature or Yuri was mature for his age. He'd reacted childishly in the situations where he'd run away, but that wasn't what gave him a childish aspect. It was when his sickness was more visible than usual and Otabek would get the overwhelming urge to protect him. He wasn't sure if this was due t his caring nature or because Yuri was so defenceless and small. Was he just projecting a hero complex onto him? Maybe he was feeling like this because he loved to be the knight in shining armour and Yuri was a perfect example of a damsel in distress. Whether it was a glorified god complex or not, he still had a burning desire to save Yuri.

Yuri had been afraid at first despite his excitement, but as it turned out he needn't've had any qualms about it because as Otabek had explained, all his friends were great. Rafael, the Dominican boy with hair almost as big as his ego. Denver, the 'not-girl-not-boy' (their own words) with an eclectic taste in fashion. Amira, the ethereally stunning sari-wearing girl who had brought brightly coloured spirits in a wide variety of alcohol percentage. She explained to Yuri that her clothes were a 'fuck you' to Eurocentric fashion ideals and he giggled, taking one of the drinks she passed him and sipping it gingerly. He screwed up his face as the overly sweet and yet so acidic drink burned the back of his throat, and Otabek laughed at him.
'Not really a drinker, are you?' He teased. Yuri stuck his tongue out and downed half of it, at which point Otabek plucked the bottle out of his hands, much to his protestation. 'Slow down, moron! This stuff is mortal.'
'Oh, shut up,' Denver prised the bottle from Otabek and handed it back to its rightful owner. 'As if you don't drink one a minute.'
Yuri smirked and smugly poured the last of it down his throat. He sat down next to Otabek on a wall, rubbing his hands together to keep the early spring frost from demobilising them. Soon, he hoped, the alcohol would kick in and the sensation of cold would become a stranger to him.
'What are we actually doing here, again?' He asked, bored now that he had finished his drink and had nothing else to put his mind to.
'We're just going to get drunk and talk,' Otabek shrugged, tossing back the contents of an obnoxiously green alcopop with alarming ease.
'That's it?'
'That's it.'
'Nobody's drunk.'
'The boy is right!' Announced Rafael, who brandished a bottle of vodka. 'Shots!'
'Nobody even has shot glasses,' Otabek pointed out, but Amira was already on it. She took the bottle caps from all the empty bottles and lined five up along the wall, into which Rafael poured vodka liberally.
'Ready?' He knelt down in front of them, picking up a cap and spilling a little over the sides. Yuri picked one up too, to which Otabek again complained.
'You can't do shots! I feel like I'm sullying you.'
'You sullied me,' Rafael grumbled, and Otabek shot him a glare, but allowed everybody to pick up the caps.
'Okay, 3-2-1!' Denver cried, and they all took the shots. Yuri coughed as it burned his throat and Otabek laughed at him again. He was beginning to feel lightheaded at last and he teetered a little as he sat down on the wall. He didn't know when Amira lit a joint, but at some point they were all sat in a circle on the wet grass and she was passing it around. At least, he was sure it was a joint because it sure as hell didn't look like a cigarette. Denver handed him the joint and he was about to take it when Otabek intervened, diving in to swipe it from his young, impressionable grasp.
'No way,' He handed it back to Denver, giving them a stern glare. 'He can drink a bit, but no smoking.'
'Why? You did!' Yuri protested, his eyes flashing with envy and anger. He just so desperately wanted to be a normal person and be able to fit in with this group, but Otabek was pot-blocking him.
'Because you're sixteen. Bad habit.'
Yuri rolled his eyes and stalked off to sit on a swing. Otabek came up behind him and began to push him, evoking a startled giggle and making him grin widely. He hadn't done such a simple and innocent thing since time immemorial. He kicked his legs out and leaned back, his hair fluttering behind him. Otabek stopped the swing with his boot and held Yuri by the shoulders, running his hands through his hair. Yuri sighed, the alcohol in his veins fogging his mind and making him feel a beautiful warmth and serenity. This was a good escape. But was it intoxication or something a little bit more? The fingers threading gently through his hair, perhaps? He stood up abruptly, and Otabek retracted his hands like he'd burnt them.
'Don't like your hair being touched?'
'No, I do- I mean, I don't care,' He reached up and touched his hair. 'What did you do to it?'
'It's a french braid.'
'What?'
'A kind of plait.'
'Why the hell do you know how to plait- are you gay or something?'
'What, just because I can plait I'm automatically gay?' Otabek arched an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his eyes.
'No, I just mean... It's weird.'
'Whatever. Hey, truth or dare?'
'Ugh, really?' Yuri rolled his eyes, but Otabek pursued it and dragged him back to sit him down with the others, who were all flying high as a kite by this point. 'Fine. Dare.'
'I dare you to down the rest of this,' Amira passed him the almost-empty bottle of vodka. He looked at Otabek and, receiving no complaint this time, tipped the contents down his throat, ignoring the acid pain of it. He held the empty bottle up like a trophy, almost keeling over backwards but giggling madly all the same.
'Denver, druth or tare?' He chortled, waving the bottle at them.
'Truth,' They blinked slowly at him.
'Ooh! Do you have a crush?' Rafael jumped in, wrapping an arm round their waist.
'Next question,' They grimaced.
'Forfeit!' Amira squealed with excitement. 'You have to... Swing as high as you can on the swings!'
'Not very adventurous,' Yuri slurred, but then he remembered they were more than a little tipsy and swings would inevitably cause Denver to puke.
'Okay, yes I have a crush!' They blurted out, but denied further information. Amira pouted and moved on, bored with talking to a brick wall.
'Otabek, truth or dare?'
'Dare,' He grinned mischievously.
'I dare youuuu,' Amira sang, glancing around the circle. 'To kiss Yuri!'
'No way!' Yuri cried out, shock turning his face pale and his stomach numb.
'Okay,' She conceded, looking mildly disappointed. 'Rafael, then.'
Yuri expected Rafael to protest, but instead he just waggled his eyebrows suggestively and beckoned Otabek over. Yuri thought they'd pretend to do it, or maybe lightly peck each other as a joke. This was what happened with spin the bottle at any parties he went to, just for the banter. But no- either Otabek was really dedicated to this game or he was actually into it. He hooked a hand behind Rafael's head and pulled him in for a deep kiss, holding him there and moaning softly. It felt distinctly wrong to be watching them, but everybody else was giggling and he wondered if it was because he wasn't high like they were that he didn't feel so sure. He didn't think he had anything specifically against two guys kissing, but he didn't like the thought of Otabek doing it. The two of them pulled apart after a few seconds and Denver wolf-whistled them. Otabek sat on Rafael's lap and ordered that the game continue. Yuri started to feel somewhat sick, his stomach knitting tightly together and his head feeling like somebody had swirled the contents of it about with a whisk. He lay back on the cold grass, relishing the feeling of it cool against his hands as he ran his fingers through it. The last thing he remembered was momentarily propping his head up to see that Otabek and Rafael were kissing again whilst Denver and Amira egged them on wildly, splashing them with drinks. All four of them were laughing raucously and he couldn't help but feel forgotten.

Yuri awoke the next day with a brutal headache and stomach-turning nausea. He could safely assume that he wasn't going to school, because it was 10am and his mother hadn't chased him out of bed. He wasn't sure how he'd gotten himself home, but then he wasn't really sure about anything that had happened the night before. He clearly recalled taking shots from bottle caps and Otabek being a jerk about him smoking. After that the details got sketchy and he could only very vaguely remember his hair being plaited (he checked his hair now to discover that it was still in place, if a little mussed up) and truth or dare. Right, and Otabek kissing Rafael. That had been one of the odder moments of the night and he questioned his memory at this point. How could he be sure it hadn't really been Amira or Denver? Then again, why was he so hung up over this- was he just really homophobic? Maybe he was okay with the idea of it but when it was real it disgusted him. He didn't think this could be the case, however, because he took no issue with either of them liking guys. If they did, that was. He knew full well that people can end up doing regrettable things whilst drunk. It was just Otabek. He couldn't think why, but it was something specifically to do with the fact that it was Otabek. His brows knitted together as he tried to piece together the fragments of memory telling him what happened after it went blurry. As he did so, he subconsciously twiddled the ends of his hair. This brought flooding back a hazy memory of somebody- Otabek- running their hands through his hair. Was that when he was still sat on the swing? No, because he'd had the plait by the point of the mini flashback. After, then? That had to be why it was so messy and falling apart... In a frenzy, he grabbed his phone and dialled Otabek's number without thinking. He picked up on the third ring, answering with a gravelly voice accompanied by a tired groan.
'Nothing weird happened last night, did it?' Yuri demanded, leaving no time for idle chat.
'Define weird.'
'Between us.'
'What? Not to my knowledge... Don't you remember?'
'No,' He bit his lip, a little embarrassed that he'd been so inebriated. To be fair, he'd been drinking on a very empty stomach. He never really counted liquid calories because they seemed so distant and conceptual compared to solid food sliding down his throat.
'Not surprising- you were absolutely catatonic. I practically carried you home.'
'Oh.' That explained the mystery of how he was home safe.
'How are you feeling now?'
'Shit. In dire need of aspirin, but my mum has probably gone to work by now and I'm too lazy to get it myself.'
'Want me to come over?'
'Hmm? No, of course not. You're probably just as hungover as I am.'
'Precisely. And I find being hungover with somebody else is much nicer than being alone. Are you at home?'
'Yeah, but-'
'Also, I left my jacket there. It's settled. See you in an hour, okay?'
Yuri groaned and hung up, not sure how he'd been so quickly coerced into socialising and dreading having to drag himself out of bed to get dressed. In the end, he just did his best to pull the plait out of his hair and brushed his teeth lazily, making sure to spit up every last bit of toothpaste so as not to ingest any unnecessary calories.
He inspected his ashen face in the mirror, poking at his awful bags. He both despised and adored being hungover like this; it meant feeling full to the point of sickness. On the one hand, this would put him off food for a day at least. On the other, he loathed feeling full because it made him fat. His stomach was bloated when he looked down at it, and he stared at it in the bathroom mirror for so long that his vision blurred. His distended stomach sure did look odd considering his ribs were still prominently visible, as were his hipbones. He didn't understand how they could jut out in such a way when he remained obstinately overweight. He washed his face in an attempt to freshen up, but there was nothing he could do about his haggard looks and he didn't much care because he never looked much better anyway. He peeled himself away from the mirror and changed into one of his characteristic oversized sweaters, pairing it with sweatpants and a somber expression. He kind of looked like he'd been hit by a bus, but he'd have to settle for it. He veered this way and that as he stumbled down the stairs, clinging to the banisters for dear life until he reached the bottom. Once there, he hobbled like a zombie into the sitting room and lay down on the couch, pulling a blanket over himself and closing his eyes. At least this way he was close to the door so he'd hear it when it went.
He got an hour and a half's sleep, because Otabek had struggled walking down in the bitter, frigid temperatures of Spring. He still had too much alcohol content in his blood to drive so he'd played it safe and walked, despite being positively frozen when he rang the doorbell. Yuri winced as he dragged himself from the sofa to open the door, allowing Otabek to bustle in and immediately put the kettle on.
'Did you have any painkillers yet?' He asked as he rifled through the cupboards to find mugs and teabags.
'No.'
'Here,' Otabek pulled a packet of paracetamol from his jacket pocket and handed it to him. Yuri swallowed two gratefully. 'You can dry swallow?'
'Yeah, you can't?'
'No!'
'You just swallow. Doesn't taste great, though.'
'That's what she said,' Otabek quipped as the kettle boiled and he finished making the tea. Yuri laughed and took his mug, holding it tightly and waiting for it to warm his chilled bones up. He was always so damn cold that even a steaming hot mug of tea wasn't enough to keep his fingers from retaining their grey-blue pallor. They sat back on the sofa he'd just been napping on, and Otabek noticed how closely he huddled into the blanket.
'Are you cold?'
'Mm-hmm,' He grimaced, and Otabek scooted up next to him, wrapping his warm arms around him.
'Your hair looks nice curly.'
Yuri wasn't listening, though, because he was dozing blissfully, eyes closed and body relaxed. Otabek lay him down and snuggled up behind him, tucking the blanket tightly around him and pulling him into his solid chest to insulate him. Yuri was too tired to protest, and it was nice to bask in the warmth emanating from Otabek, but it did strike him as a little odd. After all, this guy had kissed Rafael the night before. Was he being really problematic if he assumed suddenly that Otabek might be into him? He was only sixteen, after all, and he wasn't exactly much to look at. He didn't really have any redeeming qualities, so he decided that he was just being paranoid. The best thing to do right then was sleep, and it was deceptively easy to do so when he was this cosy. He couldn't decide whether it was coming from the arms around him or the warmth spreading through his stomach, but he liked it. It warmed a place that had been numb for a very long time.