[A/N: this is a direct sequel to Opera House, so if you haven't read that, you might be a little lost while reading Touch.]
oh, i missed you and i cried / but i said that i was alright / and i know it's been a while / since i needed a distraction / 'cause i wanna do everything / that you want me to, to tell you the truth / i need to stay alive / so sad that i could die
/
Yuuri picks up his phone, checking his messages even though he knows he doesn't have any new ones. It's a bad habit, one he's had for too long, but he can't help it. He hasn't seen Yuri in four days, what if things are worse? It isn't like Yuri had been doing particularly well when they got back from Worlds. Yuuri can barely go one minute without thinking about what Yuri's gone through over the last several months. By the time he collapsed, Yuri was dangerously underweight from his illness. Pushing himself so hard to skate a beautiful program even though everyone would have understood if he'd pulled out is exactly the kind of thing Yuri would do, but that doesn't mean Yuuri has to like it.
Even if it was his best performance of the season.
Who were you skating for, Yura?
He knows he doesn't have any right to know. If Yuri wants to tell him, he will. After all, the only reason Victor is in on the secret is because he tricked Yuri into it; Yuuri's still kind of pissed off at him, too. Pissed off, but also frustrated because he doesn't know if he's mad that Victor tricked Yuri, or if he's only angry because Victor knows while he's being kept in the dark.
And that's not fair to Yuri.
He just wants to support his friend, that's all it is. He has no right to be selfish enough to ask Yuri to tell him. None. Whatsoever.
Yuuri sighs, sinking deeper into the ridiculously plush sofa that Victor had insisted they buy for their home. (He's not really complaining; it is incredibly satisfying to sink into after a long day.) Yuri has plenty of reasons to keep secrets from him, he doesn't know why he's so bothered.
Alright, so maybe he does know why, but that's neither here nor there.
Before Yuuri's mind can spin itself into any more webs, the front door swings open and the man in question kicks off his shoes just like he always does. He moves slowly, though, a testament that his condition must be incredibly uncomfortable, if not downright painful to bear. Yuuri wishes he could take all of that away. "Welcome home, Yuri."
He tosses a smile in Yuuri's direction. For the first time in months, he doesn't look burdened, and Yuuri makes a mental note to ask Otabek what his secret is, because Yuri should look this carefree every single day. "Thanks. Why are you sitting like that?"
Ah. Yuuri's still half-buried in the couch cushions. He feels his face heating, scrambling out of his nest and toward the kitchen. "I was just, uh… Would you like some tea?"
The blond snorts, dropping his duffel on top of his shoes and trailing behind Yuuri with his hands in his pockets. "Sure."
Yuuri smiles, plucking the kettle off of the stove to fill it. "So, did you have a good time with Otabek?" He doesn't bother asking Yuri what kind of tea he'd like, or how he wants it made, because this is a routine by now. He's actually pretty proud that Yuri lets him do even this much.
"Ah… About that. I, well." Yuri clears his throat. "I didn't visit him? He's in town and everything, but I… I went to the hospital."
The mug in Yuuri's hand slips through his fingers and shatters against the floor. The silence that follows is nearly deafening-that is, until Yuri jumps up like he wants to clean up the mess Yuuri's made. But then he winces, a hand going up to his chest, and Yuuri feels like the ground has all but dropped out from under him.
Why does he feel like he can't breathe?
"Sit down, Yuri," he commands, stepping around the chunks of broken glass at his feet. He'll have to make doubly sure that he didn't step on any later, because everything feels kind of numb, but for now he just wants to clean up the mess and go back to making their tea.
He doesn't want to think about what it means. He doesn't want to think about Yuri giving up on falling in love again. He doesn't want to think about the pain in his own chest at the thought of Yuri being alone.
What if he reaches a point where he feels uncomfortable staying with Victor and Yuuri? What if he decides that they have no comfort left to offer him? What if he leaves?
Stop it. Stop.
He doesn't respond to Yuri's admission until he's seated beside the blond on one of the stools at the counter opposite of the stove, each of them holding a steaming mug between their hands. "Why didn't you tell us?"
"I… I guess I was afraid. You and Victor have already been so supportive and worried about me so much, I didn't want to be even more of a burden. You've both missed work for me and spent so much time taking care of me. I just thought I should go by myself and get it over with. But I knew that even if I told you all of that, neither of you would let me go through that alone." He takes a sip of his tea, eyes slipping shut. "Besides, when I learned that I might lose my memories of, of the person I loved, I got scared. That's why I didn't want to have the operation in the first place, you know?"
He can't begin to imagine what Yuri went through. What he must still be going through, really. "And... did you? Forget?"
Slowly, he nods, and he seems so distant for a moment that Yuuri thinks he'd do almost anything to get Yuri back. "But it's okay. Before I went, I wrote everything down that I could think of. And there are people who can help me fill in the blanks in case I missed anything. It's not the same as remembering, but this way, I can still have that person in my life. They never have to know." A moment passes. "I'm sorry that I didn't tell you."
"Yura, kitten, you don't have to apologize. I understand, really."
He shakes his head, meeting Yuuri's gaze. There's something unreadable in his face, something that makes Yuuri's hands shake. "I just don't want you to think I don't trust you, because I do. You're… the number one person on my priorities list, if that makes sense. It's just… hard to explain."
Yuuri reaches out, squeezing his arm. "You don't have to explain yourself to me. You just shocked me, Yura. The way you talked before, you had me convinced you weren't going to have them operate." He hopes he's able to convey all the warmth he feels for Yuri into this gesture, because he doesn't sound convincing to his own ears.
"Did you do anything exciting while I was gone?"
He is very lucky that I adore him. It's a cheap topic change, but Yuuri lets it slide. He isn't the one who's been through hell these last several months. "Aside from work, I haven't done anything worth mentioning." Most of his free time had been filled with thoughts of Yuri and whether or not his condition was worsening. He'd been terrified that something would happen and Yuri would have an attack that he didn't pull through while he was away, had lost sleep with those thoughts plaguing his mind.
"At least now you and Victor won't constantly be worrying about me."
Yuuri hums. "We will until you're back to a healthy weight, at least," he points out with a small smile. "How do you feel about… about giving up on your ability to fall in love?"
After all, Yuuri can't imagine not being able to love. When he finally accepted it, Yuuri realized that love had already filled him up. Sometimes he feels like he's going to burst from it. He feels like his propensity for love is such a part of who he is that losing it in any capacity would be… heartbreaking.
"It's… strange. I know that something's missing, but I don't really remember what it felt like. And after re-learning everything that I forgot, I kind of envy the part of me that got to experience being in love, even if it was killing me." He turns in his seat, abrupt. "I'm lucky enough to still have a friendship with the person I didn't want to lose. No matter what, I know that the part of me that was in love with them wanted to stay close, and even though I don't feel the same way I used to, there's still a piece of me that can't stand the thought of being away from them. I think I can be happy with that, Yuuri."
Yuuri resolutely resists the urge to hug him. He can't understand why anybody ever thought Yuri Plisetsky was anything but really fucking pure. "You're incredible, Yura."
His cheeks pink and he turns back to his tea, but the smile on his face lets Yuuri know that he said the right thing.
Yuuri hopes, if he can do nothing else to help the blond through this, that he can at least keep that smile on Yuri's face.
/
Apparently I'm not supposed to be sleeping tonight, Yuuri gripes to himself, crawling out of bed. When he slips his glasses onto his face, his eyes trail to the lone bluebottle in a vase on his nightstand before sliding away, only to snap right back to it when he comprehends what he saw.
The flower looks pitiful. Wilted and drooping, Yuri's Bachelors Button, the one Victor had asked him to hold onto more than two weeks ago, is practically dead. But what Yuuri doesn't understand is why. If it was going to dry up, wouldn't it have wilted sooner? He'd had the flower for days before he was able to put it in water, but it hadn't died in that time. It hadn't even drooped. He'd begun to put stock into that legend Yuri told him by the time he got it home and placed it in it's vase.
Besides, his relationship with Victor is more than fine. If the legend is true, Yuuri doesn't understand what happened for the pretty flower to look so depressing. The only thing that has changed in the last few days is that-
No. There's no way. Absolutely not.
That's impossible, right? After all, from what Yuri did tell him about his Hanahaki Disease, he was in love with a cherished friend, somebody who was already in a loving relationship with another friend of Yuri's. He'd been adamant about not burdening them.
Yuuri shakes himself, feeling like the biggest idiot on the planet. How many times has Yuri stated that he only cares about three people outside of his coaches?
Otabek, his best friend; Victor, somebody he strove to surpass (and he has, Yuuri's very proud of him for it); and Yuuri, his former rival.
Oh my god.
Yuuri doesn't even think-in one moment, he's seated on the edge of his and Victor's bed, staring at that flower; in the next, he's bursting into Yuri's room despite the fact that it's nearly three in the morning. Yuri, at least, still happens to be awake, but he drops his phone onto his face out of surprise when Yuuri throws the door open. "Jesus! Katsudon, what's wrong?"
Everything suddenly makes sense. He knew that Yuri's free skate at Worlds was dedicated to the person he'd fallen in love with, but something that they talked about in the hospital afterward has been plaguing Yuuri ever since. He never knew that all those years ago, when Yuri took gold from him in his senior debut, that Yuri was skating for Yuuri, to keep Yuuri in competitive skating-never realized that it had less to do with their rivalry and more to do with wanting to stay close to him. To skate a program with even more feeling than he had back then… Yuri had been giving a confession that Yuuri was too blinded to see.
But now he does.
"Yura…"
He sits up, frowning, phone forgotten. "Okay, something's definitely wrong or you wouldn't be in tears."
Yuuri sinks to his knees, clutching the wilted flower between his fingers. He hadn't realized he was crying. "Were you in love with me?"
There's a short, quiet moment. When it's over, Yuri's on the floor in front of him, reaching for the flower in his hand. Instead of plucking it from Yuuri's grasp, he tangles their fingers together around it's stem. "You still had this?"
How is he supposed to explain that he kept it with Yuri on his mind? It's not fair, it's not fair. He hadn't known. "Yura, please. Please tell me, I- Were you?"
Softly, with a few words, he wrecks Yuuri's world. "I was in love with you. Do you understand why I couldn't tell you?"
Yes, he wants to say. He understands perfectly. After all, Yuuri is a married man, and he is one of Yuri's closest friends. Yesterday, he told Yuuri that he's still at the top of his priority list.
But Yuri went to the hospital and had the surgery knowing that he would never be able to fall in love again so that he could stay in Yuuri's life. So that he wouldn't die. Because he didn't think he could confess to Yuuri and have his feelings returned.
"I understand," he answers. He sounds broken, and prays that Yuri will assume it's because Yuuri has caused him so much grief. Hell, Yuri nearly died because he loved Yuuri so much. "Of course I understand, Yura, but… I wish I had known."
"I'm sorry," Yuri murmurs, pulling his hand away. "I'm sorry, I- I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't want this weighing on you, Yuuri."
It's a weight I'm happy to bear, stupid Yuri.
/
When Yuuri steps through the front door, he's not expecting anybody to be home. He should have, of course, because Yuri isn't permitted to do any strenuous activity until his doctor okays it, but for a moment, he'd forgotten that the younger man is still healing from his brush with death (Yuuri's fault).
The point is, Yuri's home. But before Yuuri can call out a greeting, as he usually would, he hears… that. It's so soft, a whisper of a moan, but it sets off a multitude of feelings in his chest that he doesn't have the mental capacity to deal with right now. So he turns on the spot, heading back out onto the front steps and silently shutting the door.
It seems that Yuuri picked the wrong day to send his students home early. He hadn't left the ice rink expecting to become an accidental voyeur, and there's absolutely no reason he should still be standing outside his own house like he can't decide what to do with himself, but-
Think about something else, Yuuri~!
A moment passes. Yuuri takes a deep breath and releases it, reaching for the door handle again. But this time, he makes as much noise as he physically can without slamming things so that Yuri will know he's no longer alone.
"I'm home," he announces, praying to whoever will listen that Yuri is finished.
The blond in question comes out of his bedroom down the hallway, breathing a greeting and slinking into the kitchen. He seems unbothered, and while his appearance is disheveled, he only looks like somebody who's had a very lazy day.
Did I imagine it?
No. He knows he didn't. He also knows that Yuri did a very good job of pretending he was fine and not in love with Yuuri to the point of becoming very, very sick. Yuuri imagined nothing.
Stop thinking about it!
"How was your day, kitten?" he asks, bending over to untie his shoes before stepping out of them and placing them neatly against the wall. "Find anything to entertain yourself?"
"Not really," Yuri answers despondently. Yuuri finds him crouched in front of the fridge with the door hanging wide open. "I just want to be on the ice. I can't wait to get back into skating form."
Yuuri's just glad that he's eating again, to be completely honest. Slowly, he's been putting on weight, little by little. He's not at a healthy number yet, but Yuuri knows that he will be soon. Especially when he's the primary meal provider in the house. He doesn't mind putting on a few extra pounds himself if it helps get Yuri back to a place where he's comfortable wearing something other than his baggiest clothes.
"Hey, do you mind if I make dinner tonight?"
Yuuri blinks, shaking himself out of his thoughts. "Not at all. This is your home, Yuri, you don't have to ask."
He receives a smile for that, even though Yuuri doesn't feel like he's said anything monumental. But he'll take what he can get. "There's a recipe that my grandfather used to make when one of us was having a bad day. I know for a fact I've never made it for you two before, because I asked Victor yesterday, so that's what I'm going to try my hand at tonight." Yuuri leans against the counter, breathing a sigh when Yuri tilts his head back to drink from the glass in his hand.
"I'm sure it will be lovely." The blond's cheeks turn pink, and Yuuri can't help but tease him a little. "And if it isn't, we can always order takeout." Whatever Yuri makes is usually very pleasing, Yuuri isn't worried about that, but it's worth it to make Yuri huff at him.
"Oh," the younger man pauses, turning shy. "I, uh… I remember a couple of things that I didn't before. Things that Victor couldn't fill in the blanks with and that I didn't think to write down, you know?" He scratches his cheek, a little awkward. "It's a little more embarrassing to remember stuff now that you know, but- Well, it's kind of nice. Like, ah… I used to have some of your posters. Rare ones that took me months to get my hands on."
Yuuri feels the heat spreading down his neck before it registers that he's blushing like he's seventeen again. "I don't think I can imagine ever walking into your room and seeing my face on your walls."
The blond grins, then. "Now I want to put one up just to freak you out."
He can't help but shake his head, fighting a smile. "It wouldn't freak me out, exactly. Just- I guess I really never thought I was…" Worth it, he doesn't know how to say. By the quirk of Yuri's mouth, he understands anyway.
"You've always underestimated the effect you have on people," he answers simply, shrugging his shoulders.
Yuuri chews on his lip, trying not to meet Yuri's eyes. "Can I hug you?"
A moment passes. A strange sound escapes Yuri's throat. "Jesus, Katsudon, you don't have to ask!" He shakes his head, huffing laughter, and crosses the kitchen to pull Yuuri into his arms. "So silly, Yuuri."
Yuuri doesn't think he's silly. Every time he touches Yuri, he feels like he's accomplished something extraordinary. Yuri hardly lets anybody touch him, not even Victor. Not even Otabek. So why does he insist that Yuuri doesn't have to ask? Especially now, when most of his memories of Yuuri are missing, buried-when Yuuri's the reason he's suffered so much?
"You never let anybody else touch you." His voice is small, nearly lost against Yuri's shoulder, but the blond hums.
"Everybody else is annoying."
Yuuri feels like spending three hours in the shower just so he can cry.
/
"Yuuri~, you've been in there for hours!"
He doesn't know what to do.
"Yuuri?"
He should have realized it was coming, of course. Before, it wasn't a problem. Before, he knewthat at least some of his love was returned. Yuuri just hadn't been thinking when he confronted the blond about his former feelings.
He curls into himself a little more, burying his face in his knees. It was probably inevitable. One day Yuuri would have connected the dots, even if it wasn't until Yuri sat him down and told him the truth years from now like he apparently planned to. The small pile of flower petals at his side is nothing compared to Yuri's last bout of attacks, of course, but then, he's sure Yuri wasn't heaving mind-boggling amounts of flowers at first, either.
The petals are tiny, vibrant yellow things that Yuuri recognized on sight. Every year on their anniversary, when his father brings his mother a bouquet, there's a cluster of Acacia flowers tucked in with the rest. The only time Yuuri asked why, his father smiled at him and explained that he'd had a secret crush on Yuuri's mom since they were children.
He thinks it's rather fitting for his situation. If he'd been open about his feelings early on, nobody would have had to suffer.
But Victor.
"Yuuri, my love, is everything alright?"
"What's going on?" How could anyone ever think that Yuri wasn't compassionate? Even after losing most memories of his friendship with Yuuri, he still cares. He cares as much as he can, has a firm grasp on how to help Yuuri when other people overlook his anxieties.
But this… this is something Yuuri can't share with him. How cruel would it be to let him see Yuuri like this?
"He locked himself in the bathroom nearly two hours ago," his husband explains carefully. Had it really been two hours? It feels like he'd only been in here for a few minutes. A half-hour at most.
The fist beating against the door startles him, but he should've expected it. Yuri's not one to take things quietly. "Oi, Katsudon! Stop hiding and talk to your damn husband!"
"Yurio-"
"Don't 'Yurio' me, old man. If he doesn't talk about it now, it'll eat him up inside. Idiots."
Yuuri wonders if maybe Yuri made himself a handbook for days when he shuts everyone out. Is that something he'd put in his memory notebook? Is it just an instinct? Either way, he has to concede that the blond is right. Yuuri has to tell his husband. There's no other choice, because-
He doesn't have very many options, by the looks of it. "Okay," he hears himself call softly. Will Victor be angry? Hurt? Yuuri doesn't know what they're going to do, but he knows that he has to be honest about this.
He forces himself to his feet, gathering the flower petals in his hand and flushing most of them down the toilet, but he keeps the rest of them closed in his fist because he knows that Victor will want to see them. The moment he unlocks the door, one of them forces it open and drags him into the hallway. It's a smart move, too, because the moment Yuuri sees them, he wants to turn around and lock the door again.
"Yuuri, if you don't deal with it now, whatever it is, then it will just make things worse later." Yuri releases his arms, stepping back with a strange look on his face. "You have to talk to one of us. I won't take no for an answer."
He wants to tell Yuri. He wants to, but poor Yuri has suffered enough. "Victor, we need to talk."
It must sound like a break-up, he realizes when both of their faces drain of color. But Yuuri can't deny it, not when he doesn't know how his husband will take this news. He loves Victor more than anything- or at least, more than almost anything. He'd rather give away every organ in his body than ever divorce the man, but-
Quit stalling.
With a sigh, Yuuri turns, heading toward the office at the end of the hallway. It's where they plan for each week and keep all of their important paperwork, but they never use it for anything less than important.
Victor shuts the door behind himself, handsome face offset by a frown. Before he can ask any questions, though, Yuuri holds out his hand to reveal the cause behind his behavior, and Victor blinks. "What, is Yuri sick again? Is that possible?"
Whether it is or isn't possible has nothing to do with it. "These aren't Yura's flowers, Vitya."
Only a moment passes, but to Yuuri, it feels like an eternity. And then, Victor surges forward, pulling him close. "Oh, Yuuri. Yuuri, lyubov moya, I'm so sorry."
"Two weeks ago," Yuuri says brokenly, forehead pressed against Victor's chest, "I found out that Yuri was in love with me before he had the surgery." He'd been so blind. How could he have missed the signs? "What am I supposed to do, Victor?"
His husband doesn't answer immediately. It's not like Yuuri can blame him, there's not much Yuuri can do. On the one hand, he can get the surgery, just like Yuri did. But he won't only be giving up his feelings for Yuri, he'll be giving up his love for Victor, as well. And quite honestly, Yuuri can't imagine doing either. But if he doesn't, he's going to die.
"How many were there?" Victor asks softly, pressing his mouth to the side of Yuuri's head. He's being so good to me and I don't deserve it. "Were there a lot, Yuuri?"
He shakes his head. The guilt weighs on him, pressing down on his shoulders; it feels like the only thing holding him up is Victor's arms around him. "No, there were- there were only petals."
Victor hums, and his body relaxes just a little. "Then we have time. It's okay, Yuuri, we have time."
Yuuri shoves himself out of Victor's arms, breathless. "How can you say that? How can you be so forgiving, Victor?! How, when you know that I-" Yuuri can't bring himself to say it. Without Victor's arms around him, he feels too shaky on his feet; it doesn't surprise him when his knees give out.
Slowly, he crouches, wrapping his hands around Yuuri's and pulling him off the floor. "To be honest with you, I'm really not surprised." He smiles, eyes crinkling. "Yuuri, I know that you love me. And I love you, too. But we already include Yurio in most aspects of our life, it doesn't change much if he was included in the rest of them, too. When I realized he was in love with you, I tried to convince him to tell you, but he was afraid of losing you. And it wasn't my decision to make. I hadn't realized how much you already loved him, or I would have tried harder." He looks down, expression fading into doubt. "I wish that I had."
Yuuri leans into him, wrapping his arms around Victor's waist. He has no idea what he did to deserve somebody as wonderful as Victor, but he's so very thankful for him. "I think if the three of us were all a little more honest about things like this, it wouldn't have become a problem." When he sighs, he can feel the discomfort in his lungs. "But I take responsibility for this, Vitya. If I had stopped internalizing my own feelings, I would have realized that a part of Yuri had been trying to tell me all along."
Victor grumbles, like he wants to argue about where to place the blame, but Yuuri pulls away. "If we spend too much time in here, Yuri will start to think we're getting a divorce or something like that. I saw the look on his face, I don't want to upset him."
When they set foot in the hall, Yuri pokes his head out of the kitchen, brow furrowed. "If the two of you break up, I swear to god I will eat my own fucking arm." He looks like he means it, too. Yuuri knows he actually wouldn't, but that doesn't mean the alternative would be much better.
"We aren't breaking up, Yura." He glances at Victor, even though he's aware that Victor has never cared when he hugs Yuri, before pulling the blond into his arms and hiding there for a moment.
"That's good, because I don't feel like moving out."
Victor laughs, and he must reach out to ruffle Yuri's hair, because Yuuri can feel him at his back. "Nor do we want you to, Yurio."
Yuri hisses at him and hugs Yuuri a little tighter.
Yuri, how could I not love you? How could anybody not love you?
/
"I remembered something last night."
Victor and Yuuri look up at the same time, but while Victor's gaze lands on Yuuri's face, he only has eyes for their resident blond. After all, he did a little research and everything he saw hinted that not one person ever reported their memories coming back to them. But Yuri's not like other people; he goes above and beyond in everything he does, and there's no point getting his hopes up. "What did you remember, Yura?"
He looks up from his food, blinking at them. "I, ah. I remember coming to Japan that first time." His cheeks turn pink and he looks down again. "I was pretty rude, wasn't I?"
Yuuri shoves a fork full into his mouth so that he doesn't say something ridiculous, but he needn't have worried. "That's not how I remember it," his husband responds. "After all, I owed you a program and you had every right to demand it from me. Besides, the entire family likes you more than they like me."
Maybe Yuuri should have spoken first.
"That can't be true," Yuri denies, gaping.
"I swear!" Victor crosses his heart, grinning. "I'll call the triplets right now."
Before Victor can pull his phone out for proof, Yuuri swallows his food and interjects. "That actually is true, Yura. It all started when Minako-sensei asked me why I didn't retire after my first Grand Prix Final, and I told her it was to spite you for telling me that there shouldn't be two Yuris in the same bracket. And she told everybody else that Victor wasn't the reason I kept skating, which… is kind of true." He shrugs, giving Yuri a smile. "So, now they all think you're remarkable, which is indisputable with the whole family."
"But that's-"
"The whole family, Yuri," he repeats before sipping from his wine glass.
The blond shakes his head, dumbfounded. "I don't even know how to respond."
"Don't tell me you forgot to write down that you come to Japan with us every summer." Victor looks genuinely upset by the implication, and Yuuri can't help but agree that he doesn't think that's something Yuri wouldn't write down.
"No, I wrote it down…" He frowns. "I guess I didn't realize how much everybody likes me. I mean, I still get texts from Yuuko and everything, but… I don't know."
Yuuri's mind drifts. If his disease gets worse, and things aren't looking good for him…, how is he supposed to tell his family? He has no doubt that they'll have nothing bad to say about Yuri, but how is he supposed to tell them that he might-
They don't need to know, he decides, chewing on his lip. It won't make things any easier if they know ahead of time. Not when this disease is so…
Victor clears his throat. "By the way," he says, "I was contacted about some sort of event in Switzerland coming up soon. I don't know the details, yet, but I know they want to put me up in a hotel and do some interviews."
"That's great, Vitya! You're going to go, right? You know Chris will want to see you while you're there." He smiles at his husband, who looks relieved. "Oh! You should make him your plus one."
"You don't mind me going?"
Yuuri makes a face, waving him off. "Of course not! You know I don't like things like that. Besides, you have no idea how many times Chris calls me to complain that I never let you visit him." It's all in good fun, of course. Chris visits fairly often; it's Victor that never goes to Switzerland, mainly because Yuuri doesn't travel unless one of his students is in a competition.
Victor hums, turning back to his food. "I'm just relieved Yuratchka will be here to keep an eye on you…"
He can't help but wonder if it's because he doesn't do well on his own anyway, or if it's because of the flowers.
Later, while Yuuri's washing dishes, he overhears the other two talking. They aren't necessarily trying to be quiet, so he doesn't think he's eavesdropping, but the conversation still feels private to him. "I guess I still don't get it," Yuri announces in the other room, and Victor asks him to clarify. "I mean, when you figured out that it was Katsudon, you weren't even mad at me. Shouldn't you have been mad at me?"
"Yurio, how many times do I have to tell you that I don't-"
"I know, okay! I know you said that it doesn't bother you, but I don't understand why."
Victor is silent for a while, and Yuuri can only assume he's trying to find another way to put it; Yuuri doubts he'll come right out and tell him the same thing he told Yuuri. "Yura, I love my husband, and I know that he loves me. But there are times when the person he goes to when he's struggling is you. You take care of Yuuri in a different way than I do, so of course, it's only logical to me that your relationship with him is a special one. I don't think it would have changed much of anything if the two of you had formed a deeper relationship than the one you already have."
Yuri's voice is soft when he responds. "Did you tell me that before?"
A sigh. "I wish that I had, but, Yura, you really didn't want to hear it. And with everything else going on, I ran out of time."
Yuuri shakes his head, burying his hands in dishwater and trying not to think about what might be different if Victor had been able to tell Yuri all of that before. Dwelling on the past isn't going to help him; Yuri made his choice and it's out of their hands now. Even if Yuri made a decision without all of the facts, it's too late to stop him from getting the surgery, and Yuuri needs to find a way to move on.
But he doesn't think he can ever just stop loving Yuri. He understands now why Yuri pointed out that if his love was so fickle, he wouldn't have gotten sick.
He sighs. He doesn't want to stop loving either of them, but that means that Yuuri's going to die. Well, everybody dies sometime. If he's being honest with himself, he could get hit by a car tomorrow. There are thousands of ways to die. Hell, he could accidentally drip water on the floor and slip within the next thirty minutes.
All that really tells Yuuri is that he shouldn't waste whatever time he has left.
Maybe he should tell the blond about his feelings. After all, if he dies, then somebody else will just end you telling him. Probably Victor.
Speaking of…
He owes his husband.
/
The next couple of weeks pass quickly and before Yuuri knows it, Victor's packing a bag and leaving for their airport. He looks excited, and he sounds excited, but Yuuri can tell he's at least a little worried. But Yuuri has assured him that his disease isn't progressing quickly enough for anything bad to happen while Victor is gone. Which, of course, was said when Yuri wasn't nearby to listen.
His Hanahaki has been rather tame so far. Yuuri doesn't know if that's because it's just a slow disease at first anyway, or if it's because there's a part of him that hopes Yuri still loves him.
It's like his brain knows that, logically, Yuri can't be in love with him anymore, but his heart still feels loved. Because he does feel loved by Yuri. He doesn't know how to separate the friendship he has with Yuri from his own feelings.
"Yuuri?"
He hums, meeting Yuri's gaze across the kitchen counter. "Yes, kitten?"
A huff. Yuri's cheeks turn pink with embarrassment. "Would you… mind washing my hair?"
It feels like his heart flutters. "Of course I don't mind," he answers immediately, setting his laptop aside. "I can make you some tea, if you want. Do you think you'll be ready for me by the time it's finished?"
The blond blinks at him, cheeks tingeing a darker pink. Yuuri pretends not to notice. It doesn't mean anything. "Yeah, that- that would be really nice."
Yuuri's meticulous in his tea-making. He's impatient, because moments like this with Yuri are fewer than they were when he was the one who was sick. But, Yuuri can't be too upset by that, because it isn't as though Yuri was particularly tactile before Yuuri and Victor learned about his illness. Honestly, he's baffled that Yuri's initiating that contact now.
Perhaps he'd always wanted to, but didn't know how.
He sighs, relieved, when Yuri's tea is made. The walk to the bathroom is careful to avoid spills, and he's able to knock on the door without worrying about mopping later.
"You can come in."
The problem is, Yuuri has loved him for a long time, but it wasn't until Yuri came home from the hospital and the look he had in his gaze changed that Yuuri realized exactly how much he relied on Yuri's openness with him. And now, he feels like he's entirely out of his element. It's as though he hadn't realized how close their relationship was until that closeness was ripped away.
Except Yuri is clearly trying to overcome the chasm that seems to have opened up between them since he gave up his feelings.
His eyes are closed, head tilted back against the edge of the tub. Yuuri can't help but appreciate how relaxed he looks, and doesn't bother hiding his smile when he lightly brushes Yuri's wrist to press the mug into his hand. "Are you ready?"
He hums. "Thank you for doing this."
"It's really my pleasure, Yura." He sits at the head of the tub on a small stool that Victor must have placed in their bathroom at some point and gathers Yuri's hair, soaking it thoroughly before massaging shampoo into every strand. Honestly, Yuuri feels inclined to do this every day. At the very least, he would like to do it more often, if Yuri lets him. "We were spending a lot of time together, before you had your surgery."
"We still spend a lot of time together, Yuuri."
He rinses Yuri's hair, combing his fingers through it to keep it from tangling too much, and then repeats the process with conditioner. "We don't spend a lot of time like this together anymore."
Yuri sips his tea and then tilts his head back, blinking up at Yuuri. "But… you want to?"
"Yes. I would like that very much, Yuri." He offers a smile, lifting Yuri's head so that he can rinse the conditioner from his hair.
"I would like that, too," the blond responds quietly, his voice odd. "Yuuri?"
"Hmm?"
"You know… You know that you can come to me if you ever need me, right?" A moment passes. "I've probably never said it, but I really want to be somebody that you can rely on."
Yuri probably has no idea how much Yuuri already relies on him. "I think I'll take you up on that offer, kitten."
/
With Victor gone, everything starts hitting Yuuri a little harder. The first night, he does okay. The sheets still smell like Victor, and wrapping his arms around his husband's pillow is enough. He wakes the next morning rested, even if he still feels tired and lonely. But the second night, Yuuri tosses and turns; it goes on like that until the fourth night, when he realizes that his exhaustion is only going to get worse and his students will notice that something's wrong.
He crawls out of bed with that in mind, arms wrapped around himself. Maybe Yuri can help. Feeling ridiculous, he almost turns away when he reaches the door, but-
But he thinks about Yuri's words the other night, thinks about his earnest proclamation of wanting to be available for Yuuri. I can't just ignore that. And Yuuri really, honestly, cannot sleep alone. It's not just that Yuri's available, either; even when Victor can't make Yuuri feel better-which is more often than you'd think-Yuri can.
"Yuri?" Yuuri pushes the door open a bit more than it was, relieved to see that he's still awake.
He peeks at Yuuri over the top of his phone, brow furrowed. "Are you okay? You're usually asleep by now."
Yuuri takes a deep breath, hugging himself a little tighter. "Can I sleep with you?"
The blond pushes himself up, setting his phone on the nightstand. "I- Yes, of course. Yuuri, you look awful."
"I haven't been sleeping well." He inches into the room, and Yuri doesn't hesitate to pull him into the bed, lifting the cover for Yuuri to crawl underneath. They lie down, facing each other even though it's almost entirely dark-the only light comes from Yuri's window, its curtain just open enough to allow some of the city lights to illuminate his room.
The younger man reaches out, pulling Yuuri into his arms. "You could have come to me sooner." One of his hands plays with Yuuri's hair, his other arm tucked around Yuuri's waist. He knows that he won't be awake much longer, not when he feels perfectly at home wrapped up in Yuri's arms like this. Maybe they can do this more often, too.
"I wasn't thinking," he manages to explain, pressing his nose to Yuri's chest. His hands move on their own, clutching at the younger man's t-shirt, and one of his fingers brushes against the scar at the center of his chest. "Can I ask you something?"
"Hmm?"
It's just a simple question. He doesn't think Yuri will get mad at him for asking. He hopes not. "Do you think you would be comfortable with letting me read the notebook where you wrote everything down?"
A breath. "What?"
"You don't have to!" Yuuri's quick to say despite the burning desire in his gut to know all of Yuri's thoughts before his surgery. He wants to know everything, all of it. "But, I would like to read it." Even though he wants to be awake for this conversation, Yuuri feels his eyes slipping shut. It's hard enough to keep himself awake now that his body's relaxing, now that Yuri's freely offering the comfort he sorely needs.
"Okay," Yuri answers quietly. "Remind me tomorrow and I'll dig it out."
Really? "Are you sure?"
One of Yuri's still-bony fingers presses into his side, making him squirm. "I don't have anything to hide. I admit I'm a little embarrassed, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to be open with you."
"Why are you embarrassed?" Yuuri tucks himself a little closer, and he knows that he'll be asleep soon, but he wants to know everything Yuri is willing to share with him.
He sighs, breath ruffling Yuuri's hair. "I guess… I don't want you to think that I'm- I just don't want you to think less of me."
Yuuri knows that it's impossible to think less of the younger man-what he knows about Yuri's life just makes him want to keep the blond close for as long as possible. He wants to protect Yuri from all of the things that might hurt him. Except it turns out that Yuri wants to take care of him instead.
How is he supposed to tell Yuri that he'll do anything just to make him happy?
/
When Yuuri blinks awake, there's a soft voice rumbling above his ear; even though his companion is speaking in Russian, Yuuri can kind of make out some of what he's saying. It sounds like Yuri's asking for a day off. But that doesn't make sense because Yuri isn't back at the rink, yet. He's cleared for exercise, but he wants to get back to a healthy weight before setting foot back on the ice, so-
"What's goin' on?" he mumbles when Yuri hangs up the phone.
"Go back to sleep, Katsudon," he hears. A part of him wants to argue, but he's admittedly still exhausted, and Yuri's bed is so warm. It won't hurt anything if I just… Yuuri rolls over, plastering himself against the blond's side and letting his thoughts drift away.
Later, when Yuuri wakes up again, he repeats the question. Yuri, half underneath him and playing on his phone, glances at him with a smile. "Well, you looked like shit last night, and I didn't really want to wake you up this morning. You obviously needed the sleep, so I told Yakov you weren't feeling well and he agreed you looked bad yesterday and gave you the day off."
Yuuri eventually climbs out of bed and heads to the shower. The only thing he can think about is how nice it was to wake up in Yuri's arms, how loved he feels. Except Yuri can't love him, not like he used to. Yuri gave up his feelings and now, things will never be the same as they used to be. Yuuri wants so much to go back in time and tell him not to give up, that he loves him. That they could've been together.
He can feel it coming this time. The cough starts, his throat feels like it's being torn apart from the inside, and then a flood of daffodils is falling to the shower floor and clogging the drain. Yuuri tries to catch his breath, tries to think about anything else, but all he can think about is the blond just down the hall. By the time he's able to push himself off of the shower floor, Yuuri wants to crawl back into bed.
I have to tell Yuri.
The thought brings on another wave of pain, but Yuuri pushes it down, ignores it in the hope that it will disappear. He scoops the flowers up and dumps them in the trash bin; when he turns to pull his robe on, he realizes that he doesn't look his healthiest. There are dark circles beneath his eyes, blood flecks his lips, and he thinks he might be looking a little bonier than usual.
Has it really progressed so quickly in a few days?
"Katsudon, are you alright in there? Did you get sick?"
Yuuri wipes his mouth and pulls his robe on, shaking his head on his way to pull the door open. "S-sorry, I'm okay." His voice is rough.
Yuri frowns at him, leaning closer. "Jesus, Yuuri, you don't look well. Why the fuck are you so skinny all of a sudden? Is this because Victor isn't home? Because I will call him and make him come back-"
Yuuri cuts him off, inching forward and wrapping his arms around Yuri's waist. "It's not because of Victor, Yura. I'm just a little unwell."
He hums, unsatisfied. "Come on." Sliding his arms around Yuuri's shoulders, he directs him toward the kitchen.
By the time he gets Yuuri to eat something and cleans up the kitchen, it's just after noon. He tugs Yuuri into the living room and tells him to get comfortable before disappearing from the room. He's only gone for a moment, yet Yuuri nearly dozes off before he returns.
"More sleep?" he asks, tapping on Yuuri's forehead. "I thought you wanted to read my notebook."
They settle on the sofa, side by side, and Yuri plops a small duffel bag onto his own lap. "Now, before I just hand this over, you should know that half of it doesn't really make sense. I was writing everything down so quickly sometimes that I had a hard time deciphering it post-op." He unzips the bag, tugging one of those composition notebooks out and placing it in Yuuri's hands. It looks like he never cleaned the bag out after leaving the hospital.
"Do you remember more now, or just the few things you told us?" Yuuri traces the cover with his index finger, suddenly nervous. He thinks he really needs to tell Yuri. Today.
"I, uh… There's actually not a lot that I don't remember." He runs his hands through the duffel, like he's searching for something, even if he's paying more attention to their conversation than whatever he's looking for. "I guess none of those people that lost their memories went on to spend time with the person they gave up, huh?"
"I don't know," Yuuri murmurs. "You're always remarkable, so it could just be you."
"Why do you say things like that?"
He looks up, surprised. Yuri sounds a little off, maybe a little frustrated.
"You're always saying stuff like that. I'm not remarkable, Yuuri. Why do you- Especially after..." He huffs, shaking his head. "I just don't get it."
It's like he doesn't know why Yuuri would ever compliment him, like he can't believe that Yuuri thinks nice things about him. Oh, Yura. "I say it because I believe that it's true," he hears himself say, "and you deserve to know how much I care about you." His hands tighten around the notebook, but he still doesn't open it. He knows that Yuri loved him. He has plenty of his own fond memories of Yuri, of their friendship, their relationship. And now that he has access to it, Yuuri realizes he doesn't really need to read it at all. Not when he has Yuri right in front of him. A Yuri who remembers. "I don't really need to read this to know that you used to love me, Yura… I was too blind to see it before, and I've been kicking myself ever since I learned the truth, because-"
"Aha!" His hand reemerges from the duffel, something clutched between his fingers. He turns to Yuuri, his eyes alight. "I'm sorry, I- I promise I'm listening."
"I know," Yuuri answers, fond. "What do you have there?"
Yuri takes one of Yuuri's hands, pressing something into it. "It was a gift from somebody I met in the hospital. Her husband was like me, you know? And… I think he made the same decision I did. But they got married anyway, and he gave this to her." The look in his eyes holds so much emotion that Yuuri doesn't know where to begin trying to decipher it. "She said that I had the same look that he used to when he looked at her, and then she passed this on to me." When he lets go, Yuuri opens his hand to study the locket laying on his palm; it's beautiful, a silver piece of jewelry with little black flowers imprinted on the precious metal. "I knew right away that I wanted to give it to you, but I haven't had the heart to open the bag since I got home."
Home.
He clears his throat, slumping back into the cushions like he's embarrassed. Or, at the very least, flustered.
"They got married anyway?"
"Yeah." Yuri hugs his legs to his chest. "She said that she loved him from the moment they met, and that if he had asked, his flowers would have gone away on their own. But he got the surgery like I did. To me, it sounded like he fell in love with her again, you know? She implied that they were married for a really long time. And I don't think people can be in a marriage for that long if one of them isn't really able to love the other." The expression on his face makes Yuuri reach out, running his fingers across his cheek.
And his heart soars-if Yuri is anything like that man, and he's willing to bet that Yuri is, then there's still hope. There's still hope that Yuri can love him again. Why else would that woman give Yuri such a precious heirloom? Why else would he be giving it to Yuuri right now?
Yuuri coughs, his body and heart getting the best of him. Of course, with his emotions running so high, and even though there's hope, he still doubts that Yuri loves him again. His body convulses, throat attempting to dislodge the flower stuck in it. When he can finally breathe again, Yuri's arm is around his waist, half-holding him upright.
"What the fuck?"
A single ambrosia blossom sits on Yuuri's lap, atop Yuri's notebook, mostly undisturbed. The petals are hardly even wet, and Yuuri's chest doesn't feel as tight anymore.
"Yuuri, what the fuck? I don't- Victor isn't leaving you, right?" He sounds heartbroken at the idea.
With a sigh, body trembling, he leans against the blond, exhausted. "They aren't for Victor."
"They? As in, this isn't the first time?" A second passes. His grip tightens. "What do you- Then who the hell is it for?"
Yuuri pushes himself up and out of Yuri's arms, setting the notebook and locket aside on the coffee table. He takes the flower to the kitchen to rinse it clean before heading toward his and Victor's bedroom, where the rest of his flowers are lined up on the top of his dresser. And the blond follows at his heels, like he's afraid something will happen if he doesn't spend every second at Yuuri's side.
A curse rips from his mouth in Russian when he sees the display. "How long?" His fingers brush against the acacia petals at the beginning of the row.
"It began a few weeks ago, when I locked myself in the bathroom. I knew it was unavoidable, though." Yuuri wraps his hand around Yuri's wrist and places the ambrosia in his palm. "Do you know what this is?"
He shakes his head.
"It's an ambrosia blossom, kitten. Do you know what it means?"
"No." Yuri steps back, his legs giving out on him, and he drops onto the edge of the bed. "Fuck, Yuuri, why are you sick?"
He stands in front of the blond, linking one of his hands with Yuri's empty one. "Because… I never doubted that a part of you loved me… until you told me that you couldn't anymore." Please, he thinks, inching closer. "I didn't think that I was the person you were choking on flowers for, Yura, but god, I wanted you to love me instead."
Yuri makes a choked sound and tugs him forward, wrapping his arms around Yuuri's waist, face pressed into Yuuri's stomach. It takes him a moment to notice, but Yuri's crying against him. He shakes, holding onto Yuuri for dear life, like if he lets go even a little, everything will disappear. "I'm sorry."
He strokes blond hair, letting his hands wander across broad shoulders. He doesn't really know what this means for them, doesn't know if Yuri loves him, but at least he doesn't have to hide from his own feelings any longer. "I'm the one who should be apologizing to you, Yuri. If I hadn't been so blind to your feelings, none of this would have happened. I was too busy being in love with you to notice that you loved me, and-"
"Love."
"...Hmm?"
Yuri sniffles, grip turning slack so that he can push himself up, looking down at Yuuri with bloodshot eyes. His hands wrap around Yuuri's wrists. "I love you. Love. Present tense." A few stray tears still cling to his lashes, but he doesn't seem to care. "Fuck, how could I not fall in love with you all over again? Every single day, something comes back to me. I get to see you every day, so how could I not?"
He'd hoped, of course, but that's nothing compared to knowing. It's nothing compared to the overwhelming relief flooding his veins, the loss of weight in his chest. It's nothing compared to the rush of joy and love that fills him up, fills his eyes with tears. "You- you love me?"
"Yes. Please, Yuuri, please. Of course I do."
He leans forward, resting his head against Yuri's chest. "Oh god, thank god." Yuri's heart is racing, both their hearts are racing. "I-"
"What- what do we do now?" One of his hands slides up Yuuri's arm, resting at the back of his neck, the other moving to tangle their fingers together.
His breath stills at the overwhelming love in Yuri's gaze when he finally manages to tilt his head back and look at his companion. "What do you want to do now, Yura? You're the one who's been hurt the most; you're the one who sacrificed the most." He hopes Yuri can hear his sincerity. "I'm here, I love you so much. We can take this as far as you want it to go-"
"Well, you're already married, so…"
The corners of his mouth lift without his permission, and Yuuri hums. He lifts himself onto his toes, pulling the blond close enough to press their lips together. Against Yuri's mouth, he says, "I have nine more fingers that you can put rings on, if that's what you want."
Yuri groans, practically lifting Yuuri off of his feet to get closer.
"Or, there's plenty of space next to Victor's ring, if you don't mind putting one there," he adds, blinking his eyes open when they pull away for air.
He whines, kissing Yuuri again. "Jesus fucking Christ, Yuuri." A delicate sigh leaves his mouth. "Shit, what about Victor?" Yuuri lets himself be pushed back, but he wraps his hands around the fabric of Yuri's shirt.
"What about him?"
Yuri looks to the side, lips pressed together. "What is he going to say?"
"Kitten, Victor loves us both. He knows that I love you, knows that you give me what he can't. And I think he was hoping just as much as I was that you could love me again." Yuuri cocks his head. "I don't know what your feelings for Vitya are, but there's no doubt in my mind that you have a piece of his heart as well as mine. I'm not the only one who wanted you to move in with us, remember?"
His hands fidget with Yuuri's sleeves, the collar of his robe. "Then… I think I know how to show him how I feel." Yuri leans down, pressing their lips together but taking it no further than that. "Would it be alright if I used one of your old programs this season?"
Yuuri smiles, pulling the blond closer to lay kisses against his sharp jaw, sliding his arms around Yuri's waist once again. "Yes," he murmurs, "you can do whatever you want with any of my programs, Yura."
"Even if the one I want to perform is 'Yuri On Ice'?"
His heart skips a beat and he drags Yuri into an enthusiastic kiss, hopefully providing his new lover with a clear and obvious 'yes'. If not, well… Yuuri figures they'll have more time for words later.