Sorry for the short hiatus, life has this terrible habit of getting in the way of things people enjoy.

Just so everyone knows, updates will likely be sporadic from here on out, but I will never abandon this. I'm sad to say that we're nearing the end of our journey with this story, and I'm getting every last bit of pain disguised as fluff out there on the table.

I hope everyone enjoys the chapter.

~Ace

Viktor woke before Yuuri the next morning, eyes opening to the gentle early morning light spilling in through the curtains. For a moment, everything was peaceful as Viktor just breathed, staring up at the ceiling.

Yuuri was laying on his side, facing away from Viktor, back pressed into his side firmly. Yuuri's head was resting on Viktor's outstretched arm, and their fingers were gently interlaced as they had been when they had fallen asleep the night before.

"Good morning." Viktor whispered, not loud enough to wake Yuuri, as he rolled over and wrapped his free arm around Yuuri's waist and buried a few kisses in his hair. After the initial nightmare, the night had been uneventful, tranquil even. They'd gotten nearly twelve hours of uninterrupted, much needed sleep.

Viktor just held Yuuri close, timing his own breaths to those of his fiancé's, looking back on the events of the past months, and relishing the serenity of the silent morning.

Viktor had no idea how long he stayed that way, but Yuuri eventually began to stir when the light shifted and sent beams into his face. At first, he tensed, confused at the arms around him.

"It's okay, it's me." Viktor loosened his grip, ready to pull away completely until Yuuri grabbed his free hand and pulled it close to his chest. "You okay?"

"Yes." Yuuri smiled, hardly, but the corners of his lips did turn up. "I'm good."

"Good." Viktor smiled as well, finally feeling some balance returning to their lives. Suddenly, Viktor's stomach decided to demonstrate its best impression of whale song, which made both parties in the bed giggle. "Do you think you can try eating again?" Viktor pressed gently, not wanting to freak Yuuri out too much. He'd already overcome so much, there was no need for him to stress out.

"Maybe." Yuuri shrugged, trying not to remember why he couldn't eat in the first place, or what had happened when he'd tried to in the recent past.

"If you're not ready-"

"I'll try." Yuuri nodded, not feeling particularly hungry, but willing to put forth the effort.

"Okay." Viktor gave Yuuri a gentle squeeze. "What would you like?"

"Why don't we give porridge another try?" Porridge had an almost liquid consistency the way Viktor made it, and it had been the only food Yuuri had come close to choking down since his attack.

"Chocolate peanut butter?" Viktor smirked, knowing it was Yuuri's favourite flavour.

"What else?" Yuuri smirked back, forcing himself to let go of Viktor's hands and sit up.

"Let's go get it started then."

Viktor and Yuuri held hands as they left the bedroom and wandered down to the kitchen, giving each other strength, supporting each other, reminding each other that everything would be okay. Once they got downstairs, Yuuri took a seat at the nearby island while Viktor got to work gathering ingredients. Yuuri would have helped, but he usually got told to just relax when Viktor was cooking. He loved doing things for Yuuri, especially cooking.

Somewhere in his whirlwind of cupboards and fridge doors opening, Viktor found time to place a glass of orange juice on the table for Yuuri. He sipped it while he watched Viktor at work, tossing ingredients into a pot without measuring. The lack of precision always made Yuuri a bit nervous, especially when clouds of cocoa powder erupted from within the pot or stray oats jumped onto the stove, but Viktor's methods produced delicious results every time.

Soon after the smell of chocolate and peanut butter began drifting out of the pot, Yuuri found his stomach growling and Phichit followed his nose to the kitchen.

"Morning." Phichit's smile was far too bright for seven thirty, and Yuuri knew it was all thanks to the porridge. If there was a delicious smell, Phichit had a smile on his face, not matter the time of day. "Smells awesome in here!"

"I do my best." Viktor threw a cheeky wink over his shoulder. "It's almost ready, can you grab some bowls?"

"Sure!" Phichit threw open a cupboard and pulled down two bowls. Before he could close the door, however, Yuuri spoke up.

"We'll need three."

Phichit looked shocked for a moment, but soon realised and replaced his wide eyes with a smile. "Of course, sorry."

"Don't be." Yuuri tried his best to smile back. "How could you have known?"

"I guess you're right." Phichit's smile broadened as it always did when he was with Yuuri. The actual Yuuri. Not the shell of a broken man that he'd spent nearly a month with. Yuuri was coming back little by little, and even those little bits, the hints of smiles, the way he squinted without his glasses, the nervous voice cracks, made Phichit grin from ear to ear. His best friend was becoming himself again.

"Alright, gents." Viktor brought the pot over to the island, plopping some of the porridge into each bowl while Phichit grabbed spoons. "Dig in!" Viktor announced with a flare as he plopped himself next to Yuuri and took a spoonful of his breakfast concoction.

"This is delicious, Viktor!" Phichit tried to exclaim around a mouthful while Viktor chuckled.

They carried on, exchanging lighthearted small talk and enjoying their meal while Yuuri faded into the background, tuning out the conversation, staring at the bowl of porridge that seemed to stare back with daggers in its non-existent eyes. His stomach churned, confused as to whether he was hungry or anxious. His mouth watered, but at the same time his throat constricted. He just kind of poked and stirred the pile of oats, wishing he could just scoop some up and stuff it in his mouth without thinking. Why did such a simple task have to cause him so much grief? Why did something that looked and smelled so delicious have to seem so dangerous? Why did such a normal task seem so impossible? Why?

"Yuuri?" Viktor called for the third time, having noticed the distance in his eyes. He was mindlessly stirring the bowl of porridge, not having eaten any, eyes beginning to wander. "Yuuri." Viktor reached out slowly and gently rested his hand on Yuuri's wrist, making him jump. "I'm sorry." Viktor let go and Yuuri quickly found his eyes, calming down in a relatively short amount of time. "You okay? You were off somewhere else for a bit there."

"Sorry." Yuuri felt his cheeks flush and dropped his gaze back down to the table top.

"Don't apologize." Phichit hoped Yuuri could see his reassuring smile out of the corner of his eye. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"If you're not feeling hungry-"

"I am." Yuuri interrupted Viktor, feeling horrible but also frustrated. If he was going to get better he needed to push himself, just like when he skated. If there was no effort put in, there was no progress. And when he found himself getting complacent, his coach was there to push him. That was what he needed from Viktor. A push. No more coddling. "I need to do this." He aggressively scooped some lukewarm porridge onto his spoon with shaking hands, chest immediately clenching, pulse running high, breaths coming short and quick. "I need to do this." He repeated, whispering this time. Before his mind could get the better of him, Yuuri shoved the spoon into his mouth, quickly slapping a hand over the bottom of his face as the gag rushed up his throat. Horrible memories of what had been forced into his mouth on that awful night flashed through his mind in quick succession, forcing him to fight to keep the porridge in his mouth.

"Yuuri!" Viktor reached out as Yuuri heaved over the table, hand pressed firmly over his lips. Viktor's hand was smacked away as tears pooled in Yuuri's eyes, body and mind fighting for two very different outcomes.

"Yuuri you're going to hurt yourself!" Phichit's eyes were wide with horror as Yuuri shook, free hand clenched in a tight fist.

"I'm fine." Yuuri panted, releasing his lips from the tight grasp of his shaking hand. A tiny smile pulled at the edges of his mouth, pride taking over. He'd done it. He'd managed to eat solid food. To anyone else, that would probably seem like a regular occurrence, but to Yuuri, it was a major hurdle he'd overcome. "I'm fine." He reached for the spoon he'd dropped on the table, only to have Phichit grab it away while Viktor confiscated his bowl of breakfast.

"You're not fine!" Viktor could feel the tears running down his cheeks, though he didn't know when he'd started crying. "Yuuri you can't do that to yourself!"

"Do what? Get better?!" Yuuri could feel the anxiety rising in his chest. Why couldn't Viktor see it from Yuuri's perspective? Why couldn't he see how frustrating it was to be in his shoes? WHY?

"Yuuri, forcing yourself like that won't make you better." Phichit could see that Yuuri was getting worked up, so he tried to keep his voice low and calm. "I had a friend who collapsed her own lung because she would force herself to throw up. You can't heave like that, you'll get hurt."

"You guys don't understand!" Yuuri felt something inside of him snap. Tears poured from his eyes and his whole body was shaking uncontrollably as his breaths came quick and sporadic. His fingernails dug into his palms so deeply that he could feel blood dripping from his clenched fists. He couldn't tell if he was stuck in an episode of sub-psychotic rage, or having a new kind of panic attack. "None of you understand! You don't know what it feels like to be so goddamn pathetic! I'm useless! I can't do anything right! I couldn't help Yurio! I couldn't help myself! I can't even eat properly! FUCK! WE'D ALL BE BETTER OFF IF I WAS DEAD!"

Suddenly, Yuuri felt himself being pulled out of his chair and onto the floor. Strong arms wrapped tightly around him, pulling him close, pressing his ear against a warm chest. The heartbeat that was pounding in that chest seemed to be much faster than what would be considered normal. "Don't ever say that." Viktor's broken voice somehow reached Yuuri through his hysteria. He stopped yelling and listened, needing the terrifying thoughts to get out of his head. "You're not pathetic. You're not useless. You're not weak. And I know we don't understand, and we probably never will, but you don't understand what it's like for us, Yuuri. We've been watching you destroy yourself, and we don't know how to help. You can't keep things like this bottled up. If you're feeling that badly about yourself, please tell me. Or tell Phichit. Tell someone so we can help. Please, Yuuri." Viktor's voice finally gave out and he began sobbing into the top of Yuuri's head.

"Keep talking." Yuuri begged, collecting fistfuls of Viktor's shirt in his bloody fingers, still shaking, tears refusing to stop. "Please keep talking."

"We love you, Yuuri." Phichit dropped quickly to the floor, seeing Viktor struggling to find his voice. "That's why we've stood by you this whole time. If you were any of the things you say you are, we wouldn't be here. Why would we spend time with someone who was useless? You're so much stronger than you give yourself credit for. Don't feel like you have to prove yourself. Don't rush to get better faster than you can handle. Nobody will think less of you if you need time to recover."

"I love you, Yuuri Katsuki." Viktor suddenly found himself blurting out. "Please say it back." He didn't know why, but Viktor needed to hear it. He needed to hear Yuuri's feelings. Maybe it would convince him that Yuuri really was just off on a tangent and nothing he'd previously said was true. Or maybe it would just make Viktor feel better. Either way, he needed to hear those three words. "Please."

Yuuri took a deep, shaking breath. He hoped he would be able to get the words out through his gasping breaths and faucet-like tears. He surprised himself when the sentence came out in a fluent string.

"I love you, Viktor Nikiforov."