Summary: Everyone knew what the price of soul-trading was, especially so when it involved protecting other people. You gave up your life for a chance that your beloved will claim it instead. And even though you would be long gone, at the very least they would have a shot at a long, fulfilling life of their own.
But sometimes- sometimes the witch reveled in pain and sometimes "long" was more than one could bear alone.
The cold air rattled his exhausted lungs and he was still not running fast enough. His face stung with every snowflake that touched his warm skin and he still didn't notice the cold. He slipped on the ice that had formed beneath his feet and he still couldn't tear his desperate gaze away from his destination. His heart hammered in his chest as he ran a distance he shouldn't be able to in this kind of storm with frantic thoughts filling his mind, blurring his reason until all else had gone away but his sole purpose.
Faster, faster, faster… Viktor…
He didn't- couldn't know exactly where he was going. Once he realized his feet were moving towards a specific location anyway, he knew he was going the right way.
"Mama…?" he asked, brown eyes full of all the innocence befitting of an eight-year-old. "Mama, who's the Lady of the Flowers?"
His mother paused, her fingers still tangled between soft tufts of raven hair where she was brushing away the knots. "It's just a folktale, my boy," she muttered, hoping her son would be unable to pick up on the tension created by his words. "Don't bother yourself with it."
Little Yuuri tilted his head upwards to take a good look at his mother. "But mo-om, Takeshi-kun said she can grant wishes! Isn't that cool?"
Hiroko took a deep breath to steady herself, unsure as to how to handle the subject without crushing her youngest's innocent (naive) little heart. With a sigh, she gathered the boy deeper into her arms, cradling him tightly against her chest. "Now, Yuuri, some people may have power but more often than not they'll ask for something in return."
"Like what?"
"I don't know," she admitted. "It may be different every time. But my boy, some prices are not worth paying."
She planted a soft kiss on his hair. "Don't seek the witch out, Yuuri. Never seek her out."
"Are you looking for something, Yuuri? Some-one?"
His mother's words echoed loudly in his head, almost accusatory of his betrayal, his foolishness, how selfish, how stupid as an unfamiliar voice whose source Yuuri could never mistake stopped him dead in his tracks. His previously frantic heart felt like it stopped in its terror. Those big brown eyes once so full of innocence watered with tears once the regret washed over him. What was he doing? What was he doing?
"Yuuri~?" came a different voice, gentle and a loving and achingly familiar, thick with an accent and- what the hell?
His head snapped back to the source, gaze wide and terrified to find only a woman looking at him with a guilty smile twisting her lips. Wait, no- was that a smile? It looked wrong somehow. Unbelonging.
"Whoops," she giggled. "Sorry about that. Tasteless joke, wasn't it? You seemed ready to flee though, so I thought I'd remind you of what you're here for…"
The blood running in his veins felt impossibly cold. "You… you know already?"
"Sure I do," she shrugged, the poster girl for nonchalance. "It gets rather boring to hear everyone ramble on about their life stories when they come to me. I'm not a psychologist. I'm… hm… let's say, I'm a gift giver." She frowned at the broken scoff she received. "You don't believe me?"
He took a good look at her. For a woman whose reputation had come long before his birth, she appeared to be around the same age as him, with pale skin and rosy lips twisted into something that couldn't convince him of a smile. Long brown hair cascaded down her shoulders in waves with a single satin bow tied in between, granting her a facade of innocence. A facade which was purposefully unconvincing if you bothered to look past your own wishful thinking.
"Has anyone ever believed you?"
Her resemblance of a smile turned into a truly vicious smirk. "Aren't you supposed to be a nervous one? What would happen if you insult me enough for me to refuse your wish, Yuuri?"
He panicked then, just as she had predicted. "N-no, wait- wait, please…" He hated himself for it.
Her laugh was hollow, much like everything else about her. False, two dimensional, fake, fake, fake. "So tell me, Yuuri, what is your wish?" And he was too busy looking down to see the glimmer in her eyes.
"I want you… I want you to save Viktor. I need you to save Viktor." He knew the desperation pouring freely in his whispered request could only harm him yet he found himself unable to halt his fear before it flowed through his words, as it had from the moment he had known there was something wrong with the one person that mattered to him the most. His fists clenched at his sides. I'll do anything, he thought but tried his hardest not to voice, even if he suspected she would know regardless.
The woman hummed in acknowledgment, a drawn-out sound, tinted with what could almost be mistaken for pleasure. "Now you're talking. Care to elaborate on that?"
"E-Elaborate?" he stammered, feeling the familiar sting of tears pooling in his eyes. "I… I want him to wake up tomorrow… and be okay…" A sob wracked his frame as his mind went back to his beloved husband, so very out of his reach.
The witch took a few steps closer to him, each movement graced with confidence and a magnetizing elegance. "All right, Yuuri. Viktor will be back with you tomorrow, yes? That's what you want?" Yuuri nodded, once, twice, each move sharp, out of sync. "Shall I give him a week?"
Any relief that might have managed to blossom at her words was crushed in an instant. "E-Excuse me?"
"Should I give him a week and then come back for him? I have to take him back eventually, right?"
"Wait, no-"
"How about a month?"
"But-"
"Uh, two maybe? I could go for two-"
"Wait, please-"
"You really complain a lot. I mean, he could die tomorrow-"
"NO!" Yuuri screamed, a shaky hand grasping at his chest as he panted. Tears flowed freely from his eyes now, blurring his already faulty vision enough for him not to see the expression the other wore. "No, no! Why are you doing this?!"
"What? Should he never die? Is that what you want…?"
Perhaps he was too upset to hear the dangerous edge in her voice.
"Yes," he choked out.
The witch smiled-was that a smile? Truly?-. "Your wish is my command."
Yuuri returned home that night feeling hollower than he thought he would. Viktor would be fine- he had to be, she had promised. So why did it feel as though a part of him he didn't even know he had, was suddenly gone, missing? Left a vast emptiness in its place that threatened to swallow him whole? Perhaps souls were heavier than one would think they were.
He heard his name being called, turned to find his sister looking over at him, eyes narrowed but the barest hint of concern was there for those who knew her well. Her brows furrowed as she took in his state.
"We were looking for you. What happened?"
The calm tone did not help ground him as it normally would. Instead it brought this new reality of his crashing down on him. With a wretched sob, he allowed his knees to crumble underneath him. He ended up in a mess of limbs, choking, sobbing on the floor while Mari, who tried hard to mask her alarm, wrapped strong arms around him, pulling him close.
"Shush, shush. It's okay, Yuuri, it's okay. It's going to be fine- hey- Come on now. Breathe with me. Come on. One, two. Shush, shush…" Her sweet nothings went on for the longest of moments. It felt like hours to him but it couldn't have been more than a few minutes. Eventually his head fell limp on his sister's shoulder, salty liquid staining the fabric there. Her whispering continued until it somehow, impossibly, lulled him to sleep.
What if it didn't work?
The deal wasn't clear in all the ways it counted. He realized that far too late, when the next day his wish took its sweet time being granted. She had never specified the time. And Yuuri spent the entire day drowning in nerves, cursing himself and his naivety and his hope, such desperate, gut wrenching hope, whose loss at the end of the day would kill him.
Please, please, make it work.
He had grown tired of the hospital walls surrounding him, day in, day out. They were better than being home alone. He was sick of the mildly uncomfortable chairs that turned downright torturous by the time nightfall came by and he was still there.
It was foolish, but I'd do it again.
He got weary of the sound of his own voice that never got a reply, even though it would chatter endlessly as though there was something, anything to say. The idea of stopping his incessant muttering sent a searing pain to his chest, tied his stomach into knots.
Just let it be real.
His phone buzzed in the pocket of his pants. With sluggish motions, he pulled it free, barely glancing at the text alert before typing a quick reply. Mari wanted to know if he was coming home soon. Not yet. Not once had he said yes that first time she asked. It took a lot more texts than that for his determination to crumble for the night, for his helplessness to exhaust him enough to leave. Not yet.
Yuuri leaned forward on his chair, hastily placing aside his glasses to bury his face in his hands. Deep breaths. One, two. There you go. Nothing was set it stone. The day was not over yet. Deep breaths. No, he wouldn't cry now. Not yet. Deep breaths. One-
"Yuuri…?"
The sound that began in his lungs was a gasp, yet by the time it came out it had already turned into a sob. A choked, terrified sob that slipped through parted lips as tears pooled at the corners of wide eyes. Never before had Yuuri hated his own tears so much, because he couldn't see, he couldn't see dammit and he needed to see him, he needed-
Viktor… Viktor Viktor Viktor…
"Vik-" he choked once again on his own words, trembling lips breaking into a smile that bordered on hysterical. A hand came to grasp at his shirt, right at the place where his heart was pounding excited against his ribcage. "Viktor…" he breathed, relief pouring out of his system with one single, precious word, a beloved name.
The man on the bed -pale, tired, but alive, so very much alive- frowned in such concern, Yuuri was surprised his bawling hadn't gotten worse at the sight. "W… Why are you… What happened?"
He tried, he really did, to get the words out, to explain, to apologize, to shower him with love and kisses and promises, but at that moment, with his husband's exhausted yet achingly familiar voice ringing in his ears, all he could do was allow his personal walls to crumble. A loud wail shook his hunched over frame, before he threw his arms around the love of his life, burying tear stained cheeks into the other's chest. He cried then, cried out his fear, his worry, his relief. He poured all of his love into the embrace, the touch, the tears, because even if he couldn't speak right now, he was certain that someway, somehow Viktor would understand.
A pale hand found itself carding through locks of dark hair.
He understood.
It took a while for them to notice anything was wrong. Long enough for Yuuri to almost be able to forget, to pretend his meeting with the witch was nothing more than a fear-induced nightmare and the miracle that saved his beloved's life was nothing sort of that- a miracle. Hoping it would never come up again was delusional at best.
It came with an offhanded comment that sparked one of the worst conversations they were bound to have. Because when you're giving up your life to save someone who loves you just as much, the line between selfishness and selflessness tends to blur into nothing.
"Yuuri, what is that on your back?"
He was reaching for one of their larger plates from the top of the shelf, when Viktor's voice interrupted him. His shirt must have been pulled up a little with the movement, enough to reveal… what exactly?
"Huh?" he mumbled, twisting and turning to try and get a glimpse of what his husband had noticed.
Viktor chuckled at the motion, before coming up behind him to take a better look himself. "Well, I know you couldn't have gotten a tattoo overnight, since I was with you the entire time, so what is that?"
Yuuri let out a small squeak as Viktor pushed his shirt upwards, out of the way to reveal the mark underneath. The chuckle was back, only to quickly be replaced by confusion. "It does look like a tattoo. A… flower? Some kind of flower? Lilies, maybe?"
His entire body became frigid under the touch. Lilies.
"Yuuri?" Viktor called softly, concern lacing his voice at the sudden change. "What's wrong?"
Funeral flowers. Lilies are funeral flowers.
"You didn't get a tattoo, did you?" he gave out a soft laugh that rang hollow between them.
It was real. It was all real. And she's going to come for me.
"Come on, love. What aren't you telling me?"
I'm going to leave you.
It's that final thought that broke him. He crumbled into Viktor's arms- poor, unsuspecting Viktor, who could do nothing but hold him close, whisper sweet nothings into his ear, unaware of the terrible terrible truths that plagued his beloved-. They remained there, on the cold tiles of the kitchen floor, holding each other close, his sobs and Viktor's attempts at comfort surrounding them.
"Yuuri, Yuuri, sweetheart, shush, shush, it's okay. It'll be okay, I'm right here… Hush now, hush," he whispered, the words full of such warmth it could almost mask the deep worry lurking within them. "Come on, luchik, it's okay, it's okay…"
Viktor had gotten significantly better at comforting him since that first time in China. But there was no calming the storm of emotions that plagued a rapidly beating heart that could count the beats left to give before they stopped for good. And if Yuuri could withstand the fear of dying when the feel of his loved one's arms around him reminded him of the reason he had ended up here in the first place, he could not outrun the guilt of what was going to happen once he was gone for good.
"I'm sorry!" he sobbed and Viktor pulled his trembling frame closer. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry- Viktor, I'm sorry." Viktor, bewildered, tried to assure him it wasn't his fault. It is, it is, you don't know yet. You'll hate me. Heavens, you'll hate me. "P-please… Viktor… please don't h-hate me…"
"Yuuri!" he exclaimed, hurt crossing his face as though he had struck him. "Yuuri, what-?"
"Forgive me…"
And the sound was so small, so broken that Viktor could not find it in himself to talk. With a pained expression of his own, he held him close, rubbing small circles on his back, until Yuuri managed to calm himself down enough to speak.
"I…" he breathed, shaky and tired and sounding so lost. "I need to tell you something."
So he spoke. He spoke of urban legends they shared as children, he spoke of his mother's warning, of the absurdity of it all. He spoke of Viktor's accident, of going day in day out not knowing if he was going to come back to him. He spoke of his own helplessness, of his own selfishness -because yes, he knew, he knew he was selfish, he's so sorry-. He spoke of a lady at the edge of town who had offered him what he needed.
Viktor didn't speak. Not for a long while. Not until Yuuri's breath started to come short once again as the silence suffocated them both.
"Viktor, please-"
"This is quite an elaborate story for a joke, Yuuri."
He paused, his expression contorting in something akin to horror. Not just because Viktor thought he was joking -really, who wouldn't?- but because of the way he had spoken. It sounded… wrong. Fake. Fake like the false cheer he used to save for the cameras, like the smiles that never reached his eyes, not the way they did when it was him with whom he was smiling.
"If you don't want to tell me the truth, fine, but don't-"
"This is the truth, Vitya. I'm sorry. I-" Yuuri paused, wondering how much he should say. "I'm not sorry that I did it. But… but I am sorry that I'll hurt you."
"Provided you are telling the truth…" Viktor whispered in a tone Yuuri had heard him use very few times before. His gaze fell to the other's hands. Viktor was shaking. Viktor was livid. "What the hell do you mean you're not sorry?"
Yuuri flinched at swear, at the anger he could see underneath the cold exterior he was projecting. "Vik-"
"Do you have so little regard for your- your life, Yuuri, your life!" He was on his feet now, closing the distance between them in two strides. A pair of warm hands grasped his tightly, shaking with something between anger and desperation. "Please, please, tell me you're joking!"
Yuuri ignored the familiar sting in his eyes. "I- I can't. I'm s-"
"Don't say you're sorry when you're not!"
Silence fell over them, thick enough to cut with a knife, fragile to break with a single breath.
Viktor gently lowered their hands, his gaze fell down to them, softening at the light glint of their rings. "What does it mean… for you? What does it entail?" Yuuri wanted to kiss away the sadness in his voice. I didn't want this. Why did I tell him this? But dying without telling anyone what he did, without facing their consequences, would have been the coward's way out and he had done enough selfish things for this lifetime. "You'll just… just…" die "… go?" So he couldn't say it, not yet. "Will you go to- to hell- Is there a hell? What am I even saying? What's happening?"
Laughter bubbled at his throat, a breathless, hysterical sound. It broke Yuuri's heart to hear.
And he didn't know what to say. He had no idea himself what to reply to that. Because he hadn't thought about himself when he had made the deal, not outside his need to see Viktor again. He hadn't thought any further than-
"I love you…" Yuuri whispered for there was nothing more he could say, nothing more he wanted to say at that moment to make him understand.
It was his turn to comfort Viktor, for the loss that was rapidly coming his way, ready to strike at any time. He did so gladly, nuzzling his cheek on top of his head, running his fingers through silky, silver hair.
"I love you," he breathed with his entire being and he thought that even if the witch were to take his soul, there was no one who could take his heart away from Viktor.
It was hard to move on with that knowledge. They tried. Oh, how they tried. They went through the days happy and carefree, living in full domestic bliss most of the time, traveling when they could. Neither of them said it, but to Yuuri it seemed as thought Viktor was trying to cram up experiences for him before his time was up. It wasn't unpleasant, exactly. But there was always a lingering fear in everything they did that tainted the silences between their laughter, tensed the quiet times in each other's company. The marks in his body came and went, various flowers adorning his skin every once in a while, a promise, a reminder… and quite possibly a bit of a tease, if his brief meeting with the witch could be a clue to her personality. There was no pattern to it however. They couldn't serve as a sign or a countdown to how much time he had left.
What they did was cause Viktor's touch to linger over them slightly, his gaze softened and pained at the physical reminder of his inescapable fate. And of the reason it was that way.
See, it wasn't that Yuuri would never die in the first place. Of course he would, they all would. But the circumstances, the when looming above them like a weight preparing to fall made it too difficult to handle. And as for Viktor, well, Yuuri was scared to ask how he felt. What it was like, to know the only reason you were alive and breathing at that moment was because of a spell- no, a curse, a terrible curse that would eventually take away your whole world from you.
Little did they know then, that wasn't even the whole story.
Yuuri woke up to soft kisses on his cheek, his neck, his forehead. He groaned, still groggy with sleep.
"Yuuri…" Viktor all but cooed between his featherlight kisses. "Yuuri, love, wake up…"At his whiny no, he graced his ears with a soft, teasing whine of his own. "Luchik, I have to go…"
"How's that my fault?"
Warm laughter, close enough to tickle his ear, caused his heart to flutter. Brown eyes opened lazily to cast a sleepy gaze on the man on top of him. Viktor beamed at the sight. "Good morning, solnyshko."
Yuuri let himself relax at the familiar endearment. "If you tell me you woke me up to bid me goodbye, Vitya, I swear-"
Tender lips against his own interrupted that thought. Viktor smiled into the kiss and Yuuri happily returned the gesture despite having been so unfairly woken up. "Vitya…" he broke the kiss, a content expression brightening his features. "Go. I'll be here when you come back."
Viktor paused for a second, his face freezing into his smile. A curt nod later he left the room and Yuuri felt the pang of guilt to which he was almost used by now. I'll be here, he had said, when there was no way he could guarantee anything close to that.
Following his husband's departure, Yuuri took his sweet time getting up. In his much needed day off, he went through the motions of his morning routine, before taking Makkachin out for a walk. By the time they had returned it was close to lunchtime and Yuuri scrambled to find something to make with the limited provisions they had in stock- really, how had they managed to run out again?
His phone rang sometime while he was preparing their lunch and he answered with a grin in his voice, thinking it was Viktor to tell him he was going to be home soon. What greeted him on the other end of the line was, indeed, his husband, however he was anything but happy to return home.
"Yuuri…?" he called, voice uncertain. Yuuri froze in his spot. He couldn't remember the last time Viktor had sounded so scared.
His chest constricted painfully, but he forced the words around the lump in his throat anyway. "Viktor? Are you all right? What happened?"
He could hear heavy breathing from the other side and Yuuri felt like crying at his own helplessness. What was happening? Why- "Yuuri, what exactly- What did you agree to?"
"What do you mean? Viktor, come home. Where are you?"
"What was the deal, Yuuri? What did it entail?"
Makkachin came to whine at his feet, sensing his distress. He absentmindedly placed shaking fingers on the dog's fluffy curls. "I- I already told you! What's going on?"
"Yuuri…" The raw terror in his voice made him sound so young. Yuuri had to lean against the wall to steel himself against the pain at the sound. "Yuuri, I think I can't die at all."
He came home eventually. It wasn't something they could discuss over the phone, after all. Viktor walked through the door and Yuuri's heart stopped at the sight. His clothes were torn at places, blood stained his skin. But the horror in his eyes was more terrifying than anything else. Never had Viktor seemed so shaken. Never had he looked more like the world was crumbling above him and he couldn't hold it in place no matter how hard he tried.
"Viktor!" Yuuri cried out, running to his side immediately, yet pausing just out of his reach. Should he touch him? Would he hurt him? His hands hovered in front of him with uncertainty.
Viktor opened his arms to greet him. "It's okay…" he muttered. Yuuri's mind screamed. Empty empty empty. "It's okay, I'm not hurt."
He buried himself in the embrace anyway, more for his sake than anything else. "How- how are you not hurt? What happened?"
The smile he received was cold enough to send a chill down his spine. "Yes, how indeed. I had an accident, Yuuri. One that- that, frankly, should have killed me. Again." Yuuri flinched at the comment. "But there's not a scratch on me. I mean it bled for a while, you can see that. But it went away." Viktor lowered his gaze to catch that of his husband's. "How did it go away, Yuuri?"
The lack of endearment in his words, in any of the words he had spoken since he had walked inside was suddenly unnerving. He understood what Viktor was accusing him of, though for a moment he allowed himself to breathe with the relief that Viktor was alive, he was safe, before he tried to figure out how that came to be.
It was true. He and the witch, they never specified when Viktor would eventually… perish… she had just teased him about it, until- Wait.
Wait.
"Oh… Oh no…" he whispered, mostly to himself, as all color drained from his face. "No, no, no…"
Should he never die? Is that what you want?
"Yuuri?" Viktor called to him and in the cold gaze he was still trying to maintain there was a hint of fear, unable to be hidden from someone who knew him so well. "Yuuri, what is it?"
"She couldn't have… It couldn't have been allowed, could it?"
Viktor's grip tightened. "Yuuri?" He struggled to keep his voice even. "Yuuri, please tell me I'll get to live and I'll get to die like a normal person, not too long after you?"
Guilt grasped at his heart, twisted it in all the wrong ways, until it hurt to breathe. He felt sick to his stomach, struggled to swallow the bile rising in his throat. For no matter how badly he wanted Viktor to live- he wanted him to live with him, or at least with people who made him happy. Had he known what he had asked for, had he known what he had convicted the love of his life to, he never would have-
A hand came to cover his mouth, failing to stifle a desperate cry.
If he couldn't imagine the thought of living without Viktor for as long as his chance at life would last, then how could Viktor possibly face eternity alone?
There weren't enough apologies in the world to make up for this.
It was hard to pinpoint the exact moment where they started to fall apart. But they both knew it was that revelation that eventually broke them. Neither of them would ever admit it out loud, they couldn't risk another conversation like that. Yet it was obvious it wasn't a fact they could ignore and move on from. It was more than Yuuri dying for Viktor's sake now. One of them was bound to die before the other in the first place. What was never supposed to happen however, was for Viktor to be condemned to a life of being alone. With no ending in sight.
Yuuri wondered often, if Viktor had started to hate him for that. Οr rather, most of the time, the real question he asked was when had Viktor started to hate him for that. And he couldn't blame him, not really. After all, Viktor had more than once confided in him about how awful, pointless his life had been just before chasing him all the way to Hasetsu. And he was going to return to that- no, he was going to return to worse, for there was no one he could keep with him, not Yakov, not Yurio. He was going to return to that life. For good. Perhaps even forever. And what a heavy word forever was when there was truly not an end in sight.
Their silences stretched, not always comfortable as they had once been. The nicknames, the endearments were few and far in between, as though they were afraid to show each other how much they cared for the mere reminder of that affection brought pain and guilt and a desperate longing. Their quest to make the most of Yuuri's limited time got all but abandoned, for it was harder now to pretend everything was all right. And sometimes, sometimes a treacherous part of Yuuri wished that Viktor could be open about his resentment so at least he would know and maybe- maybe if his heart allowed it, he would finally be convinced to leave, because even if he could feel himself shattering at the thought, maybe it would bring Viktor some relief and he owed him at least that.
"Yuuri?" Viktor brought him back from his thoughts once again. "You're quiet," he noted, peering at him from the other end of the couch.
He let out a short, humorless laugh. "Aren't I always?" Aren't we both quiet these days? "I'm fine."
"Okay."
And that was that.
Viktor found him that morning, studying himself in front of the mirror. When their gazes met, Yuuri quickly lowered his shirt and turned to greet him with a smile brighter than it had been for a long time now. "Good morning," he sighed, his eyes a little blurry in a way that had nothing to do with his missing glasses.
"Good morning…" Viktor muttered back, somewhat taken aback by the sudden change in behavior.
Yuuri approached him, the smile never leaving his face. He took one of his hands in his own, tugging forward ever so gently. "Viktor, let's- let's do something today! Please?"
Viktor continued to stare at him, confused, for a little while longer until his gaze softened and his expression broke into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes but it was sincere in its emotion. Even after everything, it was hard to deny him anything. Especially when he was asking like that, so full of a contained excitement. "All right, luchik. What do you want to do?"
Yuuri closed his eyes briefly at the nickname, his own smile widening just a hint. "Let's go to a rink."
"An ice rink?" Viktor tilted his head. It was incredibly endearing, though Yuuri refrained from telling him that. He could understand the surprise in his voice. Although less often following their retirement, the two still frequented the ice rink.
Yuuri shook his head. "A public one."
"What? Why?"
"Come on, it'll be fun!" He laughed at the incredulous expression on the other's face. "Please, Vitya?" He ignored the shock the mere use of the familiar nickname caused, instead focusing on Viktor's exasperated shake of the head that was full of fondness.
He wondered if Viktor had known then. If he had felt it too.
Or if, this entire time, all he had needed to do for them to be at least a little bit closer to okay again, was try.
Viktor would always meet him halfway after all.
They followed Yuuri's wish and went to the public rink. They wore borrowed skates and found themselves more crowded than they had ever been on the ice. And yet they laughed and joked and sincerely enjoyed themselves, in a place that was both familiar and brand new, the perfect combination to ease the discomfort of them both. They skated in circles, danced with the music to the point where the crowd around them stopped to stare at them instead and for once, Yuuri wasn't embarrassed, merely blushing a hint, enough to bring a bright grin to Viktor's face. The sight of it made Yuuri pleased with himself. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt something even a little akin to that.
He treated his husband to lunch, laughed at the fallen look on Viktor's face at his insistence to be the one to pay for it. They even went to that one Asian restaurant whose katsudon Yuuri had deemed worthy enough. Not as good as his mother's, but a satisfying alternative when he couldn't be home.
Their afternoon found Yurio joining them, begrudgingly at first, though he seemed to relax as well once he noticed how much more at ease the two seemed with each other that day. He scowled at Yuuri with a look of utter disgust when the man attempted to hug him before he left. To everyone's surprise, in the end he gave in. Half-heartedly, but it was more than Yuuri could have hoped for. He wondered if Yurio had sensed it too.
It was later that night, cuddling in bed, where Yuuri found himself at peace for the first time in a long while that Viktor finally questioned the events of that day.
"So, love… want to tell me what this was all about?" he whispered next to his ear, hot breath reaching his neck, sending a shudder down his spine.
Yuuri buried himself deeper into his arms. "Is it that odd for me to want to do something fun with you?"
Viktor was quiet for a moment. "No…" he admitted, raising one of Yuuri's hands to his lips to plant a soft kiss on his knuckles. "I guess we just haven't done that in a while."
He sighed, a sound full of contentment. "We should have. But better late than never, right?"
Viktor planted another kiss at the crook of his neck. It had been so long since they had been this affectionate. Yuuri could almost cry at how comforting his beloved's lips against his skin were. "Maybe we'll do it more often from now on."
He clenched his eyes shut tightly for just a second. They were blurry when they opened again, yet they turned to gaze at Viktor with raw affection as if to distract him from the tears gathering at the edges, threatening to spill free. He shifted in place to face him fully, a trembling smile trying to settle on his lips.
"I love you," he breathed, because once more, it was the only thing he could say, the only thing he wanted to say.
Viktor frowned at the wetness trailing down Yuuri's cheeks. "Yuuri? Luchik, are you okay?"
He tried to widen his smile, wobbling though it may have been. He didn't bother to wipe his eyes, it was too late for that. "I love you," he repeated and leaned forward to find Viktor's lips with his own. A fresh wave of tears spilled freely once he was pulled closer to the warm embrace.
"I love you," he whispered and finally allowed himself to fall asleep, safe in the arms of the person he loved the most.
And he knew, he had known from the moment he had found a black lily tattooed on his skin that morning, that this would be the last feeling he would know.
A/N: Well then. This was not how I wanted to actively enter the YoI fandom but it happened anyway. There's one more chapter after this with most of Viktor's POV as well as what happened afterwards, of course.
If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving a review! It truly means a lot, even more so as it's my first time writing for this fandom. Find me on tumblr under the username saltfics and yell at me there too! Thanks for reading!