Winter was a double edged sword.
Since taking the season off to support Yuuri, Viktor lost the one thing he spent the majority of his life throwing himself into. Without the weight of practice and sponsorships and Yakov to push him out of bed, the weight of winter and sadness tied him to bed.
If things had gone their way, winter would have ceased to be a problem. All spring, all summer, Yuuri had been a reason to spring out of bed. But when your reason for waking up didn't want to roll out of bed either…what reason was there to leave? He wasn't letting the depression win, no, not at all. He was staying in bed with Yuuri to support him through the chemotherapy. It wasn't giving in. Viktor Nikiforov never gave in, he fought until he won.
If only Yuuri would win, too….
Viktor stroked the back of Yuuri's neck, playing with the feathery soft baby hairs. The touch on his sensitive skin made Yuuri's whole body shudder, but he didn't move away—not that he could. It was Wednesday, which meant it was Yuuri's turn to be the little spoon. Moving back meant he was grinding into Viktors hips, and moving forward meant pressing against his arms. He couldn't leave Viktor's arms after the sun rose without a good morning kiss.
"Vitya?" Yuuri spoke before Viktor realized he was fully awake.
"Mmm?"
"I feel like I'm wasting my time."
If it hadn't been day three of staying in bed, if it hadn't been day three of chemo, Viktor would have protested, playing that he was hurt and insulted. But today, right now, he understood exactly what Yuuri was saying.
"Do you want to go skating?" He withdrew his arms from around Yuuri to rub at his eyes. Yuuri replied with a tired, noncommittal grunt.
"Too much work…" He rolled over onto his other side and faced Viktor. It was going to be a while before they landed on something to do.
A few years before, Viktor had went to a psychologist. They hadn't fixed him before the season started, so Viktor moved on. But he took at least one piece of advice with him.
"Well, what's the first step to going out?" Yuuri wrinkled his nose as Viktor traced his jawline with a soft touch.
"Getting out of bed."
"After that?"
"A shower…" He frowned. It had been long enough for both of them.
"After a shower, we eat…" Viktor hummed.
"Then we leave Hasetsu." Viktor rejoiced when Direct Yuuri came out. Usually it was only when he was irritated or fed up with Viktor's own shenanigans, but it looked like today was different.
"Sounds like a plan." They shifted in bed, until they were sitting up, Yuuri rubbing his eyes and reaching out blindly for his glasses. Viktor grabbed them and set them in Yuuri's hand, before rubbing Yuuri's back through his t-shirt.
"Where's my legs?" Yuuri mumbled, blinking sleepily through his glasses. If there was anything Viktor loved more than having Yuuri in his bed, it was seeing Yuuri wake up in it.
"Mmm. I don't remember." Viktor sat up further. Makkachin's tail beat the mattress in a happy wag from the end of the bed. "I could carry you to the bathroom." He offered.
"No. I can get there myself." Viktor blamed the unhappy growl on his sleepiness, but that didn't quite take away the stinging surprise of his tone. They had torn down most of the walls between them, and found ways to skirt around the others, but it was rare to find new boundaries after spending so much time together.
"They're over here." Viktor said after a long beat of silence, taking the prosthetics from his side of te footboard and handing them to Yuuri. Yuuri took out the balled up liner socks from the sockets with practiced thoughtlessness, pulling them on. Viktor waited, scratching his chest and yawning. He would wait centuries for Yuuri, and it often felt like it took him that long to wake up.
"Sh—" Yuuri said something of a curse in Japanese (Viktor knew how to curse in every language spoken in every country that participated in the ISU) wobbling as he pushed himself onto his feet.
"Yuuri?" Viktor looked up wide eyed. He should have been there to catch him, but that could have sparked his anger too. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." Yuuri snapped, grasping the edge of the footboard. "Just.. swelling I guess." He moved his weight from foot to foot before letting go.
They went to the bath together, Yuuri taking the plastic stool and Viktor grabbing his shampoo. It had taken a few months, but Viktor had finally gotten Yuuri to use /actual/ shampoo and conditioner that cost more than 200 yen and came in separate bottles. Yuuri had listened patiently to his rant that shampoo and conditioners did two different things and shouldn't exist in the same bottle before shrugging his shoulders and letting Viktor have free reign of the morning routine.
"Vitya.." Yuuri said shyly, his eyes downcast and slightly squinted—a look that reminded him of the Eros routine, which sounded a lot more romantic than myopia.
"Yuuri?" Viktor sang back, sitting on the stool facing Yuuri, holding a handful of the 3000 yen Tsubaki shampoo in his palm. Yuuri scooped it out of his palm before smoothing it into Viktor's slicked back wet hair. Viktor automatically leaned into his hands, melting at the gestures and the shivers that jolted up his spine as Yuuri massaged his scalp.
"I'm sorry for keeping you in and wasting your time." Viktor knew that Yuuri was avoiding eye contact even without opening his eyes. He waited until the warm water gushed over his head from the shower head, rinsing out the suds. He watched the bubbles swirl around the drain, circling endlessly until suddenly dropping into the grate without warning or ceremony.
"Yuuri," He sighed. "You cannot make me do anything I don't want to do."
"No one wants to lay in bed for three days." Yuuri mumbled, playing with the cap of another bottle.
"I agree, but it happens. I'm sorry for not being strong enough to pull you out."
The faucet dripped.
"I don't want you to pull me out. Just having you here is enough." Yuuri smoothed out Viktor's smooth locks, pulling them down over his forehead and behind his ear.
Yuuri let Viktor wash his hair in turn, the two of them finishing the ritual in comforted silence. They parted only to finish getting dressed, Yuuri disappearing into his old bedroom.
"Yuuri!" Viktor sang, his heart immediately lifted when said man shuffled out of his room in Viktor's old Olympics jacket. It was long on him, and drooped at the shoulders, and Viktor loved it all.
Yuuri flushed, steadying himself when Viktor wrapped his arms around him and squeezed him tightly.
"You left it in my room…" He had stopped asking if it was okay, but Viktor continued to react the same way as the first ten times it happened. It was less acting and more reacting with Yuuri—Viktor had felt more and more free the longer he spent with his newly minted fiancée. Why put up an act when the other person saw right through it?
Viktor followed Yuuri down the stairs, a hand out to steady him as he sleepily made it to the dining room. As with any other day without skating, it was late and the family had already eaten. Breakfast was set out on the table, but both servings were already set on trays, ready to be brought upstairs.
"Ooooh, mikan jam!" Viktor sang—it was a lot easier to play it up when he felt blood moving through his body.
Yuuri was beyond the marmalade sitting next to their slices of toast, and went right for the green and white envelopes sitting on top of his plastic-wrapped soup bowl.
"What is it Yuuri?" Viktor paused with a butter knife in his hands.
"They said they'd send a letter if they found a match…"
"There's two letters." Viktor hummed, looking at the envelope that looked identical to the paperwork he had filled out a few weeks before.
"Two matches…" Viktor set down the jam as he saw the storm of anxiety pass over his face.
"That's wonderful, Yuuri! You'll be cured!" Viktor jumped up, going to hug Yuuri. He flopped like a rag doll, resting his head against Viktor's chest.
"What's wrong?" The anxiety was not disappearing. Yuuri stared at the two thick envelopes, leaving them on the table.
"The odds are crazy… and of course it happens to me."
"What, Yuuri? This is amazing! You'll feel better, we can go back to skating. All our problems are solved!" Viktor could feel irritation spark inside his chest. Of course Yuuri couldn't be happy—he was always worrying about this, that or the other. A miracle landed in his lap, and it was as if it was a death notice.
"I have to choose," Yuuri eeked out, his voice small. He still did not dare touch the envelope.
"That'll be easy. If it's someone like JJ, we say no, and take the other person. If we don't like either person, we pick the person we like the least." Problem solved.
Yuuri sighed. Viktor knew he had said something wrong, but Yuuri didn't have the energy to go into it.
"We don't even know the choices. We'll worry about it then." Viktor reached over, plucking the envelopes from the table and ripping the ends open. He pulled out the wad of paperwork, dropping the return envelope onto the table and flinging the consent forms away. "Let's see…. It's in Japanese." His tone took a dip into disappointment as Yuuri snatched the remaining two papers from the packets.
"Of course, this is Japan…" Yuuri said, letting his mood leak out a little, before he turned the letter right side up and scanned it. His glasses slid down his nose, and he didn't take the time to push them up.
"Mari…" Yuuri said in a whisper.
"Amazing! And?" Viktor clapped his hands, and Yuuri slid the paper under the other one, now knowing exactly where to read.
And read again.
And reread again.
"Is it JJ?" Viktor said, moving his hands onto his hips.
It looked like Yuuri had forgotten how to breathe.
"It's you."