#svw

Time passes strangely after the anaesthetic kicks in. When Victor’s eyes flutter open for the first time after his surgery, he isn’t sure if it’s been mere seconds or entire years since his desperate, ill-fated battle with unconsciousness. Then again, when Victor’s eyes flutter open for the first time, he’s not sure of much at all.

He’s only conscious - if you can even call it that - for a few seconds. His eyes drift slowly open and all he has time to register is a beige curtain, half-open, and beyond that, a large room with several other beds. There is a steady beeping coming from somewhere nearby. It’s too loud and the light in this place is too bright. Everything is so hazy and heavy that he can’t even turn his head to look for - look for who? Someone important… he thinks? He’s so tired…and everything is so much… he’ll rest his eyes a bit, maybe that will help…

He wakes again an indeterminate amount of time later in a smaller, more warmly lit room. The first thing that registers, aside from that same irritating beep, is a strange, intense discomfort. Not pain, the sensation is far too dull to be actual pain. But something is definitely… wrong. Very wrong, and everything is too foggy to make sense of what exactly the wrong thing is. He feels something hot run down the side of his face and a low whimper escapes from his lips, unbidden. It’s a soft, pitiful sound, cut short as it morphs into a gentle sob.

“Shh, shh, shh…” he hears, and then something is running through his hair.

The something is so soft and warm and comforting, so welcome in the midst of this awful, smothering confusion that all he can do in response is cry some more. The sound of his quiet, miserable weeping fills the room, drowning out the rhythmic beeps in his ears.

There is more quiet shushing from nearby, and then a warm, gentle pressure on his right hand. Someone is holding his hand, he realizes, and stroking his hair. The sensation is overwhelmingly grounding in this strange, floating confusion and he tries to grip the hand tight, but his limbs are weak and slow to respond. A whimper of frustration escapes him.

“Oh, Vitya,” a nearby voice sighs sympathetically.

Victor’s heart swells at the sound. Even in this sluggish, disoriented state, he knows that voice. Yuuri. Yuuri is here. The thought fills him with such stark relief that he nearly bursts into tears again, but he somehow holds himself together.  

When he manages to pry his eyes open, there he is. His form is blurred by Victor’s tears, but there’s no mistaking that face. Big, beautiful brown eyes peer down at him from behind blue-rimmed glasses, beneath a brow furrowed slightly with concern. His expression relaxes as he notices Victor’s eyes focusing on him.

“There you are,” Yuuri says with a small smile, though the worry doesn’t leave his eyes. He leans down and presses a gentle kiss to Victor’s forehead. “How are you feeling, love? Does anything hurt?”

Victor takes a second to consider. Aside from the foggy discomfort and the general sense of wrongness, there is no real pain aside from a faint, dull ache in the region of his right knee. He opens his mouth to reply, wanting to quell Yuuri’s worry, but all that comes out when he tries to speak is a weak croak.

“Oh, hold on.” Yuuri says, moving outside of Victor’s field of vision. He’s only gone for a second, but it feels like an eternity to Victor. When he returns, he’s holding a large styrofoam cup with a straw. “I’m just gonna sit you up a bit, okay, love?”

Victor nods, and Yuuri hits a button on the side of his bed. There’s a mechanical whirring as the mattress behind his back slowly lifts. It’s an unsettling feeling, to be raised up like this, and his discomfort must show on his face because Yuuri takes hold of his hand a second later, slowly helping him sit up until he’s settled comfortably.

“Here, drink some of this. The nurse said your mouth might be a bit dry when you woke up.”

A bit dry is an understatement, Victor thinks as Yuuri holds the straw up to his lips. He feels absolutely parched. The first sip of water feels gloriously cool and refreshing on his tongue, and he drinks greedily.

“Slowly, slowly, Vitya.” Yuuri reminds him gently, pulling the cup and straw back after a few seconds. “Take a little rest and then you can have some more.”

Victor whimpers, bereft, as the water is pulled away. Yuuri looks down at him with concern.  

“You’re sure nothing hurts?”

“No, it’s fine, I just… I…” Victor can’t finish his sentence as another wave of tears suddenly overwhelms him.

“Oh, honey,” Yuuri murmurs, taking Victor’s face in his hands and wiping tears away with his thumbs. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I… I don’t know, I…” Victor’s voice breaks off with a sob.

He really doesn’t know what’s wrong, and it scares him. He doesn’t know why he’s so emotional, or why his limbs feel so heavy, or why he can’t hold thoughts in his mind for very long. He doesn’t understand this haze of fog or why it’s making everything so difficult. He feels so confused and fragile and lost that there’s nothing else to do but let these helpless tears flow until the storm passes.

Looking at a loss for what to do, Yuuri leans over the bed and hugs Victor like he’s made of glass.

“It’s alright, love,” he whispers, rubbing soothing circles into Victor’s back. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Your surgeon told me the operation went just fine, you don’t have to worry about anything.”

The operation went… that’s it.

It all comes back to him, through the awful haze of confusion. That terrible moment of realization before he was put under, the knowledge that he’d left the most important thing unsaid, the fear as he’d fought so fiercely against unconsciousness. The helplessness as the anaesthetic had pulled him under anyway. The heavy dread of what could have been. Oh god, all the could-have-beens. He could have died on that table. He could have left Yuuri behind, without a real goodbye, without ever having told him he loved him, he could have, he could have-

His crying intensifies as he clutches Yuuri to him as tight as he can, weak as he is from the drugs. He knows it’s probably an uncomfortable position for Yuuri, bent awkwardly over his bed to avoid his IV line and heart monitor, but he doesn’t care. He needs Yuuri as close as he can get. He needs to make sure Yuuri knows.

“I love you,” he chokes out between sobs. It’s not enough, it’ll never be enough, but he’ll keep saying it anyway. “I love you, Yuuri. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Yuuri pulls back from Victor’s embrace, looking a little alarmed now.

“I love you too, Victor. I… please, just tell me what’s wrong.”

“I didn’t say it!” Victor sobs, “Before I went in, I forgot to… you told me you loved me and I forgot to say it back and if anything… if anything happened in there, I wouldn’t have…”

He can’t go on any longer, can’t finish the sentence, it’s too upsetting to even think about. His words are lost in a fresh bout of sobbing and he clutches at Yuuri again.

“You didn’t… what?” Yuuri looks equal measures relieved and confused now. “Vitya, sweetheart, you did say it back.”

…What?

“What?” Victor sniffles pathetically.

“Yes,” Yuuri says, all traces of concern gone. He’s actually smiling a little. “Right before you went in, you told me you loved me. Is that what you were worried about?”

Victor hardly even hears Yuuri’s question, trying hard to think back through the fog, to remember those last moments before he was brought in to the operating room. Everything is so fuzzy, and it’s so hard to concentrate…

“I really didn’t forget to tell you?”

“I promise, Viten’ka. It was the last thing you said to me before they took you in. And then you kissed me,” Yuuri leans in and gives Victor a soft, quick kiss on the lips. “Just like this.”

“I… oh.” Victor sniffles, and blinks away the last of his tears.

Yuuri laughs lightly, looking down at Victor with a mix of amusement and affection. “That’s really what had you so upset?”

Victor feels a pang of annoyance. Why is Yuuri trivializing this? Doesn’t he understand what could have happened? How bad it could have been? He turns away from Yuuri as best he can, pouting.

“It’s not nothing, Yuuri! What if I really hadn’t told you I love you? What if something had gone wrong, and I-“

“Vitya.” Yuuri interrupts him quietly just as his voice begins to shake, laying a soothing hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. But nothing happened, alright? You told me you loved me, and your surgery went just fine, and you’re going to be okay. Let’s… let’s not worry about what could have been, okay? Please?”

Yuuri’s earnest tone compels Victor to turn back over and meet his gaze, and his heart sinks. Looking into eyes, Victor can see it now. The slight bags underneath, that little shadow of residual worry. With a sinking feeling, he realizes that Yuuri had been just as afraid as he was about the possibility of something going wrong with the operation, and he knows that bringing up the could-have-beens hasn’t helped with that at all.

“Okay.” he says, reaching out for his husband again. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

Yuuri smiles a tired but relieved smile and pulls Victor into a gentle embrace. “It’s alright, Vitya. I’m just glad you’re safe.”

They hold each other like that for a while, no sound in Victor’s hospital room but the steady, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor. The drugged haze doesn’t feel so scary or disorienting here in Yuuri’s arms. Eventually, though, he can feel the effects of the painkillers making him drowsy again.

Yuuri seems to realize this as well, and he gently pulls away and settles Victor back to the mattress, lowering his bed back into the reclining position.

“You look sleepy, love,” he says, wiping the last residual tears gently off of Victor’s face. “You should get some rest. I’ll wake you when the surgeon comes back in to give us an update, okay?”

“Mmmkay,” Victor murmurs, his eyelids feeling heavy already. Yuuri resumes his rhythmic stroking of Victor’s hair as eyes drift closed and he starts to fall asleep once more.

But there’s one more thing…. one important thing he needs to say before he drifts off to sleep. Just to make sure.

“I love you, Yuuri.”

Just before he falls asleep, he hears an affectionate chuckle, and feels soft, warm lips on his.