#but the rest are just eugh or wasted potential or forgettable
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A Glass Half-Full
“Why are you breathing so hard?”
“Just got out of practice, gramps! Everything’s going so great. The teacher really thinks I have a lot of potential.” Yuri switched the phone from one ear to the other, pinching it to his head with his shoulder as he struggled to pull on his tennis shoes.
“I’m so happy to hear that, Yurotchka. You’ve worked so hard. I can’t wait to see your debut performance. I’m sure it’s going to be amazing.”
“Yeeeahh… we’re a long way off from that yet, Dedulya, but.. thanks..” Fingers flew as he pulled the laces on the second shoe tight. “I promise I’ll come home soon. I miss you.”
“I miss you, too, my Yurka… but you focus on your studies and come see me when you can. The phone calls are enough, for now.”
Yuri switched the phone again, holding it tight to his other ear as he frantically wiped at the caked-on makeup on his face.
“Next set, 5 minutes!” A familiar voice called out behind him and bodies began to shuffle frantically all around him as they hustled to get into costume and get into place.
“Shit.. shit shit.. I gotta go gramps. I’m running really late…”
“Alright, Yura. Have a good rest of your day! And send pictures sometime. I’m not very good at the Instagram.”
“Okay. I promise.” He leaned in close, cupping his hand around his mouth so he could say it quietly. “..I love you. Talk to you tomorrow.”
He didn’t hear his grandfather’s goodbye as he hastily tapped the hang-up button and tossed his phone in his backpack, yanked the zipper closed and grabbed another face-wipe. He hastily waved to the boys standing in line for their turn on stage, wished them luck, and pushed his way out the stage door and into the dark and lonely alley behind building.
He took a deep breath, clutched the straps tight to his shoulders so the bag wouldn’t bounce off and ran the now-familiar route behind buildings and down neon-lit streets to a little café’ who’s lights were still dark. He wasn’t sure he’d managed to get all the makeup off on while he’d been running, but it would have to do until he could get to a mirror.
He knocked on the back door, chest heaving, leaning heavily on the brick exterior of the building while he waited for someone to open up and let him in.
“Sorry I’m late… the set ran long tonight…” He heaved out.
“mm.” Was the proprietor’s reply.
Geezus Don scared him half to death. He could never tell what the enormous, musclebound mountain of a man was thinking or feeling. Yuri was pretty sure it was ‘angry’ all the time, no matter what Toshiro told him.
Don stepped aside to let him duck under his arm and into the back of the café, where the kitchen was in full swing and the lights were blazing blindingly bright in contrast to the darkness outside. The door swung closed and the beginning of yet another impossibly long day was locked in place.
“I just have to clean up…”
“Yuuuuri!!!!”
He flinched at the over enthusiastic greeting, but was grateful for the contrast to Don’s scowling acknowledgement. Toshiro was one of the most bubbly, happy-go-lucky, and overly friendly people he’d ever met. And he loved him for it … most times.
“I’ve told you a million times it’s fine if you’re running a few minutes late. Just call us and let us know.” The little Japanese man finished sweeping his long, multicolored dark hair up into a sloppy bun and captured it in a hair net before throwing his arms wide and pulling the young blonde Russian in for an enthusiastic hug.
“Eugh.. you still smell like cigarette smoke and booze.. “
“I know.. sorry. I didn’t have time to shower…”
“Go get cleaned up. Upstairs with you.. go go go.. wash that stench off and make it quick. We’re making Ecclairs, today.”
“But…”
“Don’t worry. I’ll adjust your timesheet. Now get.. You’re stinking the whole place up.”
“Alright.. alright. Thanks Tosh. I owe you one…”
“yeeaaah you do.” Toshiro smiled crookedly, winking as he moved through the kitchen to join the cranky-looking chef bent over a flour-covered table – pointedly beating a glob of dough with his big, meaty hands. “Relax, Don, or you’re going to make the neighbors think we’re having hot, steamy, naughty spanking sex.” A long pause. “…again.”
Yuri smiled at the embarrassed, gruff choking that was Don’s reply and the last he heard of the conversation before he made it to the top of a set of stairs hidden at the back of the room behind an old door painted over so many times Yuri wondered if there was any actual door left, or if it was just paint with a doorknob.
The couple’s upstairs apartment wasn’t big, and he didn’t live there, but they had made him feel like home in the tiny space they called theirs above the little café’. They’d picked him up off the street like the stray he was, fed him up, cleaned him up and had given him a respectable job and a couch to sleep on until he could find a place of his own. He owed them a lot more than just being on time for his early morning shift.
He didn’t waste any time stripping out of his clothes and hopping into the shower, ignoring the screaming pipes for the hundredth time as he quickly washed the smell of his overnight gig off his skin and out of his hair.
Paying for college might kill him before he graduated.
Two jobs, back to back, then classes – a few hours to sleep – and he was back at it again. Just two half-days off a week, and the slower part of the morning at the café and in-between sets at the club to work on homework and get practice in…
He wasn’t sure he was going to last four years, but if he had to sell himself body and soul to make his dream come true, he was willing to work himself to the literal bone to get there.
He hopped out of the shower 15 minutes later, clean and feeling refreshed. The exhaustion would hit about 8am, but the benefit of working in a café/coffee shop was that he had free access to the espresso machine. 19 shots later, he would be transcending human existence. At least, until about 3pm when class let out.
He got himself dressed, pulled on his apron on his way downstairs, and began another completely forgettable day of baking pastries and blending up various types of cold salads – opening up and serving cup after cup of varyingly complicated coffee and tea. Bagging slices of banana and pumpkin bread for the morning rush, studying and hastily finishing off homework over his lunch break with a large cup of nothing but straight espresso and an energy packet stirred in, rushing off to class and taking a plethora of notes so he could rush back to his tiny, ramshackle studio apartment in the bad part of town, work on as much homework as he could manage before passing out.
Sometimes it was on the table. Sometimes he actually made it all the way to the bed. Most of the time, though, he fell asleep 5 minutes in to one of his favorite movies, stretched out on the loveseat he’d scrounged out of a local thrift shop.
Then, his alarm would go off at 9pm, he’d get himself up, grab his things and head into the club for his overnight shift.
Lather, Rinse, Repeat.
It had been going like this for months, now – and every day seemed a little harder than the last.
#I am so shitty at titling things#omg this is bad#but there you go#have half a novel#Cafe/Coffee shop struggling student ABO Sugar Daddy AU
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