#y!!oi

Victor forces a smile as he taps his fingers against the marble island stretching out over the middle of the kitchen. “Of course I am, Yuuri. Why’d you ask?”

Yuuri fully turns to him. “You’ve been awfully quiet since we’ve returned from practice.”

Victor hesitates for a second too long and he knows that Yuuri sees right through him. Still, he glances away as to not face his gaze. “I’m fine.”

Yuuri frowns but he does not pry, just turns back to the omelette he’s making.

Victor is grateful for that.

-

Victor is laying in the dark with the soft buzz of snowflakes hitting his window a backdrop to his thoughts. His hand is curled around Yuuri’s waist, rubbing the warm skin while Yuuri’s hair tickles at his chest and his breath strokes across his collarbones. He watches the cracks across his ceiling, like cracks under skates that split the smooth surface of the ice.

His eyes glance at his hand that spreads out across the sheet. The golden ring glints in the sliver of moonlight. His lips curl into a smile.

It is the only gold he ever won that does not feel like a shackle around his neck.

“Yuuri?” he whispers into the peaceful room. “Are you awake?”

“Mmm,” Yuuri murmurs and shifts in his hold. Bleary eyes turn to face him. Victor’s hand tightens on his waist. “I am now.”

Victor huffs out a laugh as his eyes turn back towards the ceiling. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispers. “I was just checking.”

Yuuri’s hair tickles him through his silk pajama top as he shakes his hand. “It’s ok, I don’t mind. We don’t have practice tomorrow morning, anyway.”

“True.” He keeps his gaze on the ceiling. “I’m still sorry.”

Yuuri’s hand moves from the sheet to hold Victor’s. He gives it a squeeze.

“Yuuri?” he says again after a minute of silence that presses heavy against his chest. “Can I…” He bites his bottom lip as he struggles to say something. Anything. He knows Yuuri will not judge him if he does.

The words still get stuck in the back of his throat.

Yuuri lifts his head from Victor’s chest and shifts higher to tilt his head so their gazes meet. “Victor?” he says softly.

Victor loosens a shaky breath and searches his eyes. He squeezes his hand tighter. “I’m scared,” he finally manages to choke out and sighs as tears gather at the corners of his eyes. He roughly wipes them away with the back of his hand.

Yuuri blinks. His hand grips Victor’s and gently pushes it away in favour of wiping the wetness away himself. “Of what?” he whispers, hand lingering against his cheek.

Victor nuzzles into it like a kitten and gives another shaky sigh. “I don’t know,” he says, gritting his teeth together. He looks back up towards the ceiling so he does not have to face him. “Nothing. Everything.”

“Is this why you’ve been awfully quiet today?” Yuuri asks. His voice is soft and caring and Victor wants to weep. He does not know why; it is just pressing heavily against very being.

“Maybe? I’ve just been too stuck in my mind.” He presses an arm over his eyes to hide the tear that slides down his cheek. It feels freezing cold. “I hate it. I hate it so much.”

Yuuri’s hand squeezes the hand he’s holding. “Victor…” he leans in to wrap his arms around him, pulling his head against his chest. Victor’s shoulders shake and he burrows his face into his chest as he gives a silent sob.

“Is there anything I can do?” Yuuri’s warm hand strokes circles into his scalp. Victor releases another shaky breath.

“I’m scared,” he says again, voice tight as he attempts to gather his thoughts. “I’m scared, Yuuri.”

Yuuri presses a soft kiss against the crown of his hair. “It’s ok, let it all out, it’s ok,” he whispers and Victor feels something inside of him break. His tears flow out freely, and he hiccups as he clutches at him like a lifeline.

“ It’s just,” he starts and scowls, his tears staining Yuuri’s sleeping shirt. “It’s just… I’m scared this is my last good season. I’m scared because I’m 28 and skating is the only thing I’ve done for more than 20 years. I don’t know how to do anything else, I don’t want to retire but I also know I need to because I – I can feel it. I wobble on jumps, I get tired too easily, I’m one knee injury away from retiring anyway. But I also don’t want to retire yet because – because you taught me to love skating again and I’ve just started to enjoy it again and – and ---”

Victor grits his teeth together. Yuuri just silently holds him.

“And I don’t want to let you down,” Victor adds in a near whisper as he grasps at him tighter and curls up into himself. “I know you want to skate with me and I want to skate with you and even saying that I want to skate is amazing because I was going to retire this season but I really, really want to but I’m scared that if I return I’ll just let everyone down. Everyone expects me to be so amazing all the time but I can’t be and I know I need to retire before I’m forced to by an injury.”

Victor takes a deep breath and slumps against himself. He squeezes his eyes shut.

Yuuri’s hand moves to rub his back. “How long have you been sitting on that?” he asks, voice feather-light and gentle. Victor gives a little laugh.

“A while,” he admits. “I’m… not used to talking about my feelings. I didn’t think anyone would care as long as I skated alright.”

Yuuri’s lips find the crown of his head again. “Thank you for telling me,” he says and when Victor looks up at his face, bathed in pearly moonlight, he sees he is smiling. Victor closes his eyes when Yuuri brushes his bangs out of them.

“I hope I didn’t pressure you into returning to the ice,” Yuuri continues and cups his cheek. His hand is warm against his freezing cheek. Victor sobs and nuzzles into it again, trying to control his breathing.

“You didn’t, I did it because I wanted to skate alongside you.”

“Good, because I never want to pressure you into anything.” His lips find his forehead. “You’d never let me down, Vitya. Never. You can flub as many jumps you want, you can retire, hell, you can move to Antarctica and stay there to, I don’t know, study the penguins alone, I would always be in awe of you. I would always love you.” He hesitates. “You know that, don’t you?”

Victor sobs louder and presses his hand against his mouth. “I-I’m trying,” he admits. “I’m…Not used to that.”

Love always felt conditional to him. If he skated well, the audience loved him. If he behaved (though he rarely did), Yakov loved him. If he scored well, Russia loved him.

If he stays untouchable, if he overworks himself into exhaustion, if he stays the living legend, the world loves him.

“Oh, Vitya,” Yuuri breathes and squeezes him closer. His hands fist at the back of his shirt. “You don’t have to do anything special for me to love you. I won’t love you less if you fuck up, if you’re not always the best. You can never let me down. You saw me at my worst and you never ran away. Why would I?”

“I—I don’t know,” he says, voice shaking. He bites back another sob and takes a deep breath. “It felt like you would.”

“Never.” Yuuri starts stroking his hair again, hand shaking the tiniest bit. “You’re stuck with me, Vitya. I can’t promise you that you won’t fall and injure yourself tomorrow. I can’t promise you that your body won’t catch up with you.”

Victor glances up at Yuuri’s face when Yuuri’s hand urges him to look him in the eyes. He sniffles, another tear leaking down his warm cheek.

“But what I can promise you,” Yuuri continues and gives him a watery smile as he wipes it away. “Is that if those do happen, I’ll be here. If you decide you want to retire, I’ll be here. I won’t leave you. I could never leave you. I love you too much.”

Victor throws his arms around him and sobs softly into his shoulder, shaking as Yuuri’s hand warms him down to his core when it draws nonsense shapes Victor’s too lost to recognise.

“I love you too,” he answers shakily when a few minutes pass and his breathing starts to slow, his shaking a mere tremor compared to how he began. He pulls away only slightly, so slight their chests still touch, to give Yuuri a watery smile just as the moon peeks out from behind a thick cloud and sheds a sliver of light over Yuuri’s porcelain-smooth face. “I love you so much.”

He buries his head into the crook of his neck again, pressing a soft kiss to the warm skin he finds there. “What have I ever done to deserve someone as amazing as you?” he breathes in deeply to ground himself.

“Existed,” Yuuri says and brushes his hair away from his face before their hands twine again.