They sedated him.

Before he even had the chance to get to Yuuri, to truly calm him down, the nurse had gone ahead and given his fiancé a sedative.

Viktor couldn't do anything but watch as Yuuri's movements grew more sluggish and ragged, chemical disorientation saturating the fabric of his consciousness. Panicked words die on the tip of his tongue as he slumps against Viktor's chest, and albeit reluctantly, Viktor had let him go in order to give the nurse ample berth to reattach various wires to Yuuri's body; to make sure he hadn't inadvertently aggravated his injuries or jostled the intravenous needle in his arm.

As if he could read Viktor's expression, Dr. Yamamoto casts an apologetic glance at him. "We had to," he says, "or else he could have hurt himself."

Viktor didn't want for it to have to come to this, not when Yuuri was finally awake after so long. In fact, it was the longest he's gone without hearing Yuuri's voice since he came to Hasetsu for the first time. And he never wanted it to happen like this, let alone fucking happen at all. He never should've left his side, he should have been in the room with him. The one time Yuuri needed him the most, he was downstairs in the cafeteria getting something to eat.

And what he hated was, he knew he couldn't do anything about it— at least, not now. Not in this moment. He felt utterly frustrated he couldn't help Yuuri the way he wanted to. He hated feeling helpless, useless. But despite all this, Viktor understood why it needed to be done. Not just the sedation, but the operation on Yuuri's leg, the amputation needed in order to save it.

Yet, still, there was this niggling voice in the back of his head constantly berating him.

You did this, it would say. You made him go on those four AM jogs. You let him go, and this is what happened.

The thoughts, they burn, they pain him. But he makes little conscious effort to dismiss the dangerous thoughts fomenting in his head. Because in a way, he wants to feel the pain. He wants to feel the hurt Yuuri had gone through. Is going through. Will go through— possibly, for the rest of his life.

But if Viktor could. He swears, if he could. He would take on all the burden by himself instead.


It's the middle of the night when Yuuri awakes many hours later. The only light on is the one by the entrance to the room, mostly boxed in by the small entryway. Other than that, the rest of the room is engulfed in dark. He sees shapes and lines beginning to form on the ceiling, swirling around and swimming before his vision. He hears the monotonous beep, beep, beep of his heart on the ECG machine. The low whir of the air-conditioning unit.

He glances to his right and sees Viktor curled up on the seat beside him. Despite the dimness of the room, the fluorescent light still outlines the silhouette of Viktor's frame. Yuuri blinks, and he can't quite recall the last time he had seen the Russian look so small.

Yuuri wants to speak. He wants to say something, but he daren't wake Viktor up. So he glances up at the ceiling once more, his face expressionless. He lays waste to his thoughts. He thinks about the accident, and he can't really remember what exactly happened last time he may have been awake, but he thinks he remembers… panicking.

Over what?

Over something.

A— A part of him that was no longer there.

Physically or mentally, who knows? Could be both. Probably is both.

His heartbeat stutters in anxiousness. He feels the burning curiosity to sit up and glance under the covers to finally get to the bottom of things, but he does his best to quell the urge. Tomorrow morning, he resolves.

Yuuri hopes and he wishes and he prays that all of it was just a figment of his imagination. It had to be. It has to be.

Or else.

(Or else what? a part of him thinks.)

Or else, he reiterates.

He turns away from Viktor the moment he feels the back of his eyes starting to sting, even though the Russian wasn't even awake to see him. It hurts to think.

(And his heart is beating out of his chest, and it shows, and you can hear it, and you can see it on the ECG monitor, but Viktor still doesn't wake, and nobody hears the sobs coming from Yuuri's mouth, and at the same time he hates it because he needs someone, but he doesn't want them to see him like this, and he just wishes that all of this would end already, and that it was just some drug-induced hallucination, or some fucked up nightmare, and—)

Yuuri cries himself to sleep.


Yuuri dreams that night.

He dreams of being on the ice, the wind he gathers blowing through his hair, zephyrs navigating their way through his outstretched fingers. He reaches before him, looking for something, longing. He does not know what for, but he can feel it. He can feel the sunlight pouring in through the windows of the Ice Castle as he skates figures of eight onto the ice.

He glides across the rink, gradually picking up speed, before performing a triple axel followed by a quad Salchow. He dances across the ice to an invisible rhythm, feet moving of their own accord to a beat unheard, before he goes and arches his back into the graceful arc of an Ina Bauer and closes in on a combination spin.

It's just him and the ice. He feels free in a way. Like there's nothing holding him back. There are no judges, no one in the stands. There are no obligations or criterion for him to reach. And when he skates, he does so with a fluidity that comes with confidence.

But it doesn't last.

The feeling doesn't last.

It's ephemeral, something only captured for one quick moment before it is truly lost.

At a point, he stops skating and his eyelids flutter close. He's standing in the middle of the rink, trying to catch his breath. His arms are outstretched, and he tries to take everything in before he opens his eyes and—

He finds himself staring at a whitewashed ceiling.

(This is where it all falls apart.)

Yuuri finds that he wakes easily, as one would after a short nap, and again he is initially disoriented with his surroundings before he realises just exactly where he is. Not long after, a pretty good idea of why he was there in the first place. He almost has to laugh at the irony of it all. Such bitter, cruel irony.

The sound of his stirring catches Viktor's attention, who immediately rushes to his feet and gently helps Yuuri to sit up. He talks to him sweetly and cautiously, a guiding hand placed onto the small of his back.

"How are you feeling, solnyshko?" Viktor asks, examining him at arm's length. "Do you feel any pain? Should I call a nurse?"

But Yuuri doesn't hear him— well, not really. For the first time, he truly takes in his surroundings. For the first time, he notices all the helium 'get well soon' balloons hovering in the corner of the room, the bouquets of flowers occupying every possible surface, and Hallmark cards propped up vertically in V-shapes so they could stand. All of this, just looking right in front of him.

"Yuuri," Viktor says again, softly, cupping his cheek. The latter redirects his focus to the man beside him. Viktor is eyeing him cautiously and Yuuri doesn't know what to make of it. His brows furrow.

When he tries saying Viktor's name, his voice cracks. His throat is painfully dry, he realises with a wince. Viktor immediately grabs a bottle of water from the bedside table and twists the cap open, before raising it up to Yuuri's chapped lips with a slightly quivering hand so the Japanese man could take a sip. When the first refreshing drop of water hits his tongue, it's only then when Yuuri realises just how dehydrated and parched he is. He places his hand over Viktor's, fingers not quite feeling his own, and tightens his grip on the bottle. He nearly manages to finish it all in one go, before letting it tip back down, the residual water sloshing about in its container.

Viktor tenderly caresses Yuuri's head, placing a chaste kiss atop his temple. "Feel a bit better now, Yuuri?"

Yuuri nods absently, losing himself to his thoughts again. He meets Viktor's careful regard and his breath hitches in his throat. He quickly averts his gaze as Viktor pulls away to set the bottle back on the bedside table before moving closer to him to take Yuuri's hand into his own, and Yuuri's fingers instinctively curl around his. As Viktor studies him, he soon recognises the look on Yuuri's face. He knows that expression of his, brows drawn together, lips pursed, and brown eyes clouded over; pensive. So Viktor stays silent and waits for Yuuri to work through his thoughts, to speak whenever he's ready to. And when he is, Viktor will be there to listen this time.

For the Japanese man, there was no hiding now. It's broad daylight, and the sunlight pours in through the shutters, forming stripes of light on the sheets. Chocolate brown eyes hesitantly skitter over to where the sheets sink, his legs forming valleys disproportionate, where the sheets dip back down to the bed.

…It wasn't— It wasn't a dream, or even a nightmare.

It was real all along.

In that moment, he knows. He knows for sure now.

He didn't want to believe it, but there was no way he could keep lying to himself about it. Could he? No. He couldn't.

Out of reckless impulse, he yanks his hand out of Viktor's grasp and practically rips the sheets off, revealing his lower body. He shudders, and before he knows it, Viktor's arms are around him, holding him tightly. An anguished, guttural cry had clawed its way out of his mouth from the back of his throat as he buried his face into Viktor's chest, sobs wracking his skinny— no, emaciated— frame.

Viktor does not say anything and merely pulls Yuuri in closer to his chest, running his hand through soft black hair. The Japanese man is quivering in his embrace, trying his best to stifle the cries that threaten to escape his lips, muffled by the fabric of Viktor's sweater. Yuuri feels something wet fall on his cheek and realises that Viktor is crying as well.

"I'm sorry, Yuuri," Viktor murmurs, his voice watery. He brings his hands to cup Yuuri's cheeks, blotchy and red and streaked with tears. "I know that everything seems really bad right now, and I know nothing I say will make you feel better, but I promise you, it will get better. It will. We'll get through this, alright? And I'll be with you every step of the way."

Yuuri looks at him and manages a small smile. Viktor lets out a breath he hadn't realised he's been holding in before leaning in and pressing a wet kiss against Yuuri's lips. "I love you," he whispers tenderly, giving him another quick kiss.

"Viktor!" Yuuri exclaims, voice still hoarse. His smile grows wider and it makes Viktor's heart soar.

It's going to be okay, Yuuri thinks to himself. It feels more like a lie than anything, but— Everything will be okay.

Right?

He tries not to dwell on the thought because if he does, knowing him, he's only ever going to make it worse. It's hard not to think about it, honestly. He— He doesn't even know the extent of his injuries yet. He didn't know how long he'd be here. If he'd even leave at all. Stuck within the confines of these four whitewashed walls, it felt more like a prison than a hospital room. The wires connected to his body, chains that sustain him.

Kami-sama, Yuuri, stop.

He bites his lip; he can feel the back of his eyes stinging.

Stop thinking about it. Don't think about it.

Don't cry.

Don't you dare cry.

As if sensing his distress (he probably did), Viktor starts to rub soothing circles onto Yuuri's back, fingers inadvertently running over the vertebrae jutting out of Yuuri's back. The touch is familiar, comforting. It manages to soothe some of Yuuri's frazzled nerves and keep his tears at bay. Now he just feels this sort of numbness or calm he usually gets after having a cry.

He does not know how much time has lapsed before he hears a knock on the door. Viktor stands up to answer it, slender fingers briefly brushing against the back of Yuuri's hand in what he hoped to be a comforting gesture. From where Yuuri is sitting, he can't see who Viktor is talking to, and their voices are too soft for him to hear. He sits up a bit straighter and pulls the sheet over his legs again when a woman in a white coat walks in, followed by a nurse in scrubs wheeling a small trolley.

The woman in white smiles at him warmly. "Good morning, Mr. Katsuki! I'm Dr. Hayashi, your doctor."

"G-Good morning," Yuuri stammers out, nodding at her politely.

"How are you feeling today?" She asks, walking to his side and examining his intravenous drip. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Viktor's inquisitive yet cautious gaze. "Are you feeling any discomfort? Any pain?"

He turns to look at Dr. Hayashi, pausing for a moment before shaking his head. "I… No, not really." Not physically, anyway, he mentally adds, though not without a note of acrimony.

"That's good," she says, briefly writing something on the clipboard in her hand. He wonders what she wrote. He wonders if it was about him. It probably was.

He can see Viktor in his peripheral vision, saying something to the nurse. She nods before exiting the room.

"Now, Mr. Katsuki—" Dr. Hayashi begins, and there is a seriousness in her tone that wasn't there before. Yuuri grows tense, internally bracing himself for the worst. "I know that everything is coming off as a shock to you right now, especially in your case, but I've already talked it through with your family and Mr. Nikiforov about therapy and rehabilitation. Rest assured we will do everything we can to make sure you recover smoothly."

Yuuri nods— because what else can he do, right? It's not like he really has any say in the matter. He'll go along with whatever they've planned without him because he has to. Even though all Yuuri wants at the moment is for the bed to swallow him whole and consume him. As Dr. Hayashi continues to go on, he tunes them out— all of them, honestly, even Viktor— and stares at the window. Though without his glasses, he can see the blue of Hasetsu's ocean, and there are black dots moving around. Seagulls. Must be nice to be free like them. Funny, since the thought's never crossed his mind before until now.

He doesn't want to be here right now. He really, really doesn't want to be here.

He feels something brush across his hand and he flinches, a twinge of guilt twisting in his chest when he sees it's Viktor, who's looking at him with wide icy blue eyes. "S-Sorry," Yuuri says, forcing a small smile on his face and squeezing Viktor's hand. "You startled me."

"Solnyshko," Viktor says, "the doctor needs to change your bandages."

The Japanese man's eyes automatically flicker to the leg much shorter than the other and he's overwhelmed with the rush of pain he feels. He inhales sharply and turns his head away as if he'd been struck.

"You don't have to watch, alright? Not if you aren't ready yet," Dr. Hayashi says.

An automatic 'I'm sorry' escapes Yuuri's lips before he can even think about it.

"It's fine, it's fine!" Dr. Hayashi reassures him, going over to the side of the bed and pressing a button, prompting the upper portion of the bed to move up to a 45° angle. She gestures for him to get comfortable and Yuuri hesitantly lies back down on the bed. He can feel his heartbeat picking up, and since he's hooked up to the ECG monitor, he's well aware everyone else can hear it. He can't help it— he feels tense, and trepidation is a cold chill that slithers up his spine. His jaw is clenched and his grip on Viktor's hand tightens, knuckles turning white. He daren't look, curling into himself further.

Dr. Hayashi draws the white sheets back and Yuuri flinches. When she starts to undo the dressing, Viktor swears he can hear Yuuri whimpering softly, his breathing growing louder and louder. He casts a quick glance at the heart monitor, and sure enough, Yuuri's heart is beating faster.

"Just relax, okay?" The doctor says, glancing at him in concern. "Take deep breaths."

Viktor wants to speak up, but he finds himself faltering. He studies Yuuri carefully for a moment before speaking up. "Maybe it'll be better if I do it instead."

Dr. Hayashi raises an eyebrow at him, expression slightly disbelieving. "Pardon?"

"It's not the first time I've changed his dressings for him," Viktor starts. "Nurse Sato was there to make sure I was doing everything correctly."

Yuuri's eyes flicker up to Viktor's face, which is already alight with determination. "It's not?" He can't help but ask, voice small. Self-consciousness bubbles up to the surface, feeling painfully uncomfortable with the knowledge that Viktor had seen his leg (or what was left of it, rather), and had even taken it upon himself to change his bandages.

Viktor looks at him warmly, softly stroking the back of Yuuri's hand. "Of course, Yuuri. I want to be able to take care of you properly, so of course I'd have to learn how to, right? Now, Yuuri, will you let me change your dressing for you?"

"You don't have to, Viktor," Yuuri tries to reason, but Viktor waves it off.

"I know, but… I want to do this for you, solnyshko. Will you let me take care of you?"

Yuuri stays silent for a few moments (and really, a part of him wants to say no, but—) then nods in his assent. Viktor beams at him, kissing Yuuri's cheek with an audible 'smack!' before pulling away and replacing the warmth of his hand with… a stuffed tiger? He wraps his free arm around the plush toy, studying it carefully.

"Where'd this come from?" He asks, though he has a pretty good idea from whom it came from, but it couldn't possibly be from—

"Oh, Yurio came by to visit! He got it for you. See, it's even holding a bowl of katsudon! Isn't it cute?" Viktor exclaims, stepping into the en suite for a quick moment. He makes sure to wash his hands with soap before he grabs a small metal basin and fills it with warm water and a bit of soap. He exits the bathroom with the basin in his hands, making his way to the farther side of the bed. Dr. Hayashi is watching the both of them silently with a mixture of bemusement and interest.

Viktor dries his hands off before putting on a pair of latex gloves from a box on the small trolley. He grabs a fluffy white towel and gently raises Yuuri's leg up so he could place the towel spread out underneath it. He glances up at his fiancé momentarily, smiling reassuringly. "Alright, Yuuri, I'll take your old bandages off now, alright?"

Yuuri nods, burying his face into the tiger plushy. He still daren't look.

Viktor takes a deep breath before reaching for the dressing and carefully undoing it. The skin was still tender and his wounds were still healing, so Viktor had to be careful, especially when it came to the skin near the stitches. As much as possible, he didn't want to hurt Yuuri, but given the circumstance, he knew the pain was inevitable. But at least… he was doing this for Yuuri, and if anything, to make him more comfortable with the procedure.

He tosses the soiled bandages into a discreet metal rubbish bin hanging off of the trolley before grabbing a smaller towel and soaking it into the basin. He squeezes the excess water out and folds it into a square so he could clean Yuuri's wound. He starts from one end of the stitches to the other, making sure he wipes away any dried blood. He pats it dry with a fresh towel before standing back up. He reaches for a half-empty bottle of hydrogen peroxide and and a clear bottle filled with sterilised saline, mixing amounts of both into a separate container, just like Nurse Sato instructed him to. He opens up a small tin and pulls out a handful of thick cotton pads and returns to Yuuri's side.

Just as he's about to pour the mixture onto Yuuri's wound, he hesitates at the last second, hand inches away from his leg. He turns to look at Dr. Hayashi, just to make sure he's doing everything alright, and she gestures for him to go on. "This might sting a little, okay? If it hurts too much, just tell me and I'll stop."

Yuuri's arms tighten its grip around the stuffed toy. He nods in acknowledgement.

Viktor can't help but wince the moment he pours a small amount of the solution onto Yuuri's wounds, wiping his skin with a fresh cotton pad. He thinks about how painful it must be, but he doesn't stop— Yuuri doesn't tell him to either. So he continues to clean the wounds with a steady hand, alternating between pouring and wiping. He changes the pads of cotton often, making sure not to go back to a cleaned spot with a pad of cotton that's already been used.

"Just hold on a little bit longer, Yuuri," Viktor says, pulling away momentarily to reach for the antiseptic gauze. He unfurls a guesstimate amount, from what he's observed Nurse Sato doing when she would change Yuuri's dressings. From that, he makes two thick pads, setting it side-by-side so it covers Yuuri's stitches. When he applies pressure, he apologises profusely when Yuuri's knee jerks up and he hisses in pain, instinctively trying to move his leg away. He secures the gauze with medical tape and redoes the outer dressing with more gauze, making sure the bandages aren't loose or wound too tightly.

When Viktor draws the covers over Yuuri's legs again, some of the tension leaves his shoulders and Yuuri feels like he can breathe again, somewhat. He takes a deep breath before meeting Dr. Hayashi's eyes. "How bad was it? Aside from," a vague gesture downwards, "that."

A beat of silence.

He doesn't notice the way Viktor has grown still.

Dr. Hayashi smiles at him empathetically. "You sustained many injuries, Mr. Katsuki. We almost lost you. You're very much lucky to be alive."

Yuuri stays silent, mulling over her words.

"I'll come by with your other doctor, Dr. Yamamoto, later in the afternoon," she says, tucking the clipboard under her arm. "We'll discuss the extent of your injuries in-depth then. We'll also discuss plans for your recovery."

He nods, absently staring down at the stuffed toy he's holding. His recovery. It all seemed so distant, so out of reach, so far away. He doubted it, especially when everything ahead was so uncertain. The nurse from earlier reenters the room with his breakfast and that's when Dr. Hayashi decides to take her leave.


"Viktor," Yuuri speaks up, breaking the long but comfortable silence that had befallen them after Yuuri finished eating his breakfast. It was all liquid for now, but he was promised something more solid for lunch later. He's on that cusp between consciousness and unconsciousness, and the painkillers coupled with feeling full has him teetering precariously towards the latter. But just as he was about to doze off, he remembered something, and he needed to know. "What date is it today?"

"Hm? Oh," Viktor picks his phone up form the bedside table and checks the time. "December 3, why?" Then his expression turns sheepish for a moment. "Sorry we celebrated your birthday without you. Well— you were there. But you weren't awake to celebrate with us."

That was something to note, but that isn't where Yuuri's attention is. His attention is on the datethe date! How long had he been out of it? How long had be been asleep? His eyes widen in panic as he scrambles to sit up. "Viktor! The— The Grand Prix!"

"What about the Grand Prix?" Viktor asks him, a hand on Yuuri's arm to steady him while he scrolls through his Instagram feed with his other hand.

"Viktor," Yuuri says, urgency creeping into his voice. "You're supposed to be in Europe right now."

Realisation hits him and he gives his fiancé a reassuring smile. "Oh, don't worry. I'm not competing."

"…What? W-What do you mean you're not competing?!"

Viktor looks at him incredulously. "Yuuri, of course I can't leave you like this."

Yuuri shakes his head tersely. "No. This is your last season, Viktor, you should go!"

"No! Yuuri, I'm not leaving," Viktor says, unsure whether to laugh or to cry. Even while hospitalised in the ICU, Yuuri still thought put others before himself. He reaches over and runs his hand through Yuuri's hair. "I still have Worlds if you still want me to compete. Don't you want me to take care of you?"

"You don't have to, Viktor, I'm in the hospital, I'll be fine!"

"Yuuri, stop, you're being unreasonable right now," Viktor coaxes, sensing Yuuri's growing apprehension. Yuuri's hand is trembling as he clutches the sheets in his hand.

"I want you to go! I don't want to drag you down with me!" Yuuri restates, desperately trying to get Viktor to see the urgency of it.

Viktor is taken aback by the response. "But you're not bringing me down—"

"Yes I am!" Yuuri exclaims, tears threatening to fall from his eyes. "I'm a burden and you're stuck here and you can't compete because of me! I— I know it matters to you, okay? That's why I want you to go on and compete! You earned this, Viktor, you deserve it!"

"And you think I can in this state of mind?" Viktor says brusquely. He laughs in disbelief. "Yuuri, I honestly don't give a shit about the Grand Prix anymore. All I care about is you, okay? So it's all fine, I swear!"

"But it's not fine! I'm not going anywhere!" Yuuri yells out, and that's when the tears come. They fall down his cheeks in rivulets, dripping down and soaking his hospital gown. "I'm just here! I'm stuck here! Do you really think I can do anything right now!"

Viktor rises up to his feet, internally panicking. "Y-Yuuri, please, you're being ridiculous right now—" And when he reaches for his fiancé, Yuuri flinches out of his grasp.

"I'm not! I'm not being ridiculous!" Because it all makes sense in Yuuri's head now. His thoughts are moving a mile a minute, and he can see everything falling apart. How everything will fall apart, inevitably. And no matter what he did, even if he tried his hardest, nothing— nothing— would go back to the way things were. Nothing would be able to rectify what he's lost, and now he's pushing Viktor away because it— it hurts. It hurts to be near him right now, and what makes it even worse is that he's the one making Viktor feel this away, and Yuuri can't take it anymore—"Get out! Get out, Viktor, I don't want to see you right now!"

"Yuuri, I—" Viktor looks at him with shock and hurt before he shakes his head, reaching for his phone and jacket, and promptly exiting the room.

The moment the door closes behind him, a terrible silence falls over the room. Yuuri's words are finally catching up to him, and that's when it all crashes into him like a tidal wave. He rakes his hand through his hair, curled into himself as he, too, falls apart.