Yuuri kneels by Viktor's feet, gingerly tying worn, gray laces across black skate boots. The golden strings he had commissioned for his husband for their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary had long since snapped, and although Viktor was more than willing to have another set made to replace them, Yuuri thought it no longer necessary.
They don't have much time left, after all.
It was a cherished ritual they've shared since their retirement from competitive figure skating. After daily skating lessons, they would lazily go around the rink, hand in hand, talking about the events of the day. Sometimes Viktor would put on music, to which they would slowly dance, whispering sweet nothings and sharing tender kisses. Yuuri would sometimes taste the salt on Viktor's lips, and every time it would break his heart.
Days became weeks, weeks became months, and months became years. Knees became bent and arms became crooked, yet Viktor's grip on Yuuri's hand remains as strong as ever, even as his fingers became knobby and his joints hurt. He, too, wanted this to last forever, but the painful truth remains, looming and unapologetic.
(They both know, but still.)
Yuuri finishes tying Viktor's other skate with a sturdy double-knot. His husband looks down at him, marveling at the handiwork. With a tender smile, Yuuri brings up Viktor's right boot and kisses it, feeling tears prickle at the corner of his eyes. What wouldn't he give to make this moment last forever?
He takes a moment to compose himself before rising to meet Viktor's eyes. A shooting star is reflected in his husband's glistening eyes, and he feels himself enveloped in a warm, tight hug. Yuuri rests his head on Viktor's shoulder, savoring the warmth emanating from their bodies.
Viktor tenderly regards Yuuri and brings him closer for a slow kiss. There is salt again on Viktor's lips, but this time he pays it no mind. "Shall we, my love?"
Yuuri nods. "Yeah, let's go."
Let's make it last.