((I wasn't even sure if I was going to post this a) at all, b) as an addition after the epilogue of the sequel to Counting Blurry Stars, or c) separately.

Thing is, I'm still not sure if b) wouldn't have been the better option. Why? Well, what happens here is going to be mentioned twice – once in passing and once … well, I have no idea because I haven't got there, yet, but it won't be too elaborate, either. So it's not required for understanding, but I do like how it turned out, and here it is.

The title is taken from John Dowland's What If I Never Speed? and for once I'll say the entire song fits the theme. Yay!))

Love Aims At One Scope

Viktor's eyes danced over the lines he'd written. He wiped over his eyes, impatient with himself. He'd tried to figure out how this had happened, how they'd ended up fighting all the time for two weeks straight. Not about anything substantial, even.

He'd looked forward to having Yuuri here. They both had. They had worked so well together for months, as long as the season lasted and they had no time to get hung up on irrelevant, stupid stuff. And now they couldn't spend a day without getting in each other's hair over something ridiculous. Even now, only minutes after Yuuri had stormed out (into a city whose language he didn't speak, a gnawing voice at the back of Viktor's mind said, making worry eat the rest of his anger) he couldn't say what it had been about. All he knew was that he couldn't do this anymore.

They had tried living together and failed badly. (Had they, though? In the three months between the Grand Prix Final and the World Championship, they'd had a beautiful time, even with the added complications of Viktor starting to prepare for his own comeback and Yuuri fretting about the competitions he'd bombed the year before. They could live together, they'd proven that.) But even if they had messed up everything now, why did this feel like a horrible mistake now Viktor actually paused and thought about it? Had they really tried, or was he giving up before making an effort for the one thing it was worth making it for? Why did he already hate the sight of the letter, if writing it had been so unavoidable? (Also, a letter? Was he really going to throw the one relationship he'd wanted out of the window with a letter? If the thought of doing this in person made him physically ill, in what world could this be a good plan?)

He had to think. With his heart and his mind and not with his amygdala. What would it be like, to see Yuuri's face fall when Viktor returned his ring? How would he manage that without sobbing when the thought alone made him cry right now? And it wasn't as if he dreaded Yuuri's reaction. The young man would vanish quietly and fast, leaving no trace of himself. Viktor would wake up alone, probably starting the next day. He'd never hear his voice again, never feel the warmth of his breath on his skin as he woke up. Yuuri's lingering scent on the pillow would fade and Viktor would be alone. He'd never felt lonely before he'd met Yuuri, but he knew now he would. How should he go back to skating without Yuuri cheering for him every step of the way? How should he fall asleep without his warmth next to him? Eat without hearing Yuuri's small sounds of pleasure at something as simple as food? It was a frightening world he was crafting there, in his intentions.

Viktor looked around and stood, taking a tour of his apartment, trying to take note of what would change when Yuuri was gone. It hit him then that the only visible difference it would make was the second bedside table, the one on Yuuri's end. He'd take the picture of Vicchan with him and the novel he was reading in the evening. Other than that, he'd made no changes to Viktor's apartment. It was as if he hadn't really, fully moved in at all. (Except that wasn't true, the nasty voice supplied. It wasn't like he hadn't tried to create his own space. Except someone hadn't seen the need.)

'What have I done?' Viktor asked the empty apartment, shocked to a standstill. Fresh tears broke from his eyes as the realisation struck him. He didn't have time to contemplate this, however. The front door opened and closed and Viktor ran back into the library. With shaking hands, he shoved the hateful letter into one of the books on his desk. After a moment of hesitation, he put the book it into the middle of the pile. He'd get rid of this later. 'Yuuri!' he called. 'I'm so glad you're back!' He was. Oh, God, he was.

He rushed back out to meet him and when he took note of his red eyes he pulled him close and held him tightly. 'Yuuri, I'm so sorry.'

A sniff came from the younger man. 'Me too.' He clung to Viktor and nuzzled his neck. 'I thought you'd tell me to leave, Viten'ka.'

Another pang of guilt hit Viktor and he squeezed harder. 'No.' He pulled away and framed Yuuri's face in his hands. 'Yuuri, I don't deserve you calling me that. I am so, so sorry,' he said again, his voice breaking. 'I did you so wrong.'

'What?'

'I've treated you like a glorified houseguest. I can't believe you didn't run away for good.' He felt his lower lip tremble, his heart racing with fear. This wasn't over. Something had been different in their fight today, a note of resignation in both of them that felt jarring and terrifying. It was what had made Viktor write that note and it was, he feared, what had brought tears to Yuuri. 'Please don't. Please don't leave me. Yuuri, I get it now. I didn't before. We need to talk, but I really don't want to lose you.'

'I wouldn't just leave you,' Yuuri said, his voice rough, but he looked away. Damn it, he really had thought about it. Viktor could hardly blame him, considering the atrocity he'd just hidden in a book. 'But … Viktor, you didn't do anything wrong. You asked me to treat the place as my own and I'm … not. I keep asking you if I can do things or use things and I know it bugs you. I feel like I've failed you.'

'You could never fail me.' It was astounding how true this was. What had he been thinking? 'Let's not do this standing here. Do you want coffee? I need one.' Yuuri nodded and followed him, shadowing his every step. He was hovering by Viktor's side while he got cups and for a moment he felt like telling him to give him space to breathe. He had done that a couple of days ago, causing another fight. Hating himself for how easily being harsh to such a gentle soul had become a pattern with him, Viktor set the cups down. 'Hey, Yuuri, is there a reason you're watching me like a hawk?' he asked instead, his voice soft.

Yuuri backed up immediately eyes downcast, even though Viktor hadn't meant to sound rough and didn't think he had. But recently, his temper had been so bad it was small wonder he caused him to retreat. He needed to fix this like yesterday. 'I'm asking because I think you want to know how to work the coffeemaker and don't want to ask. It isn't your run of the mill thing, but when I first showed you, you didn't seem that interested.'

Yuuri shook his head. 'No, that's not it at all! I just … I'm really not talented with these things. I'm decent with computers, but anything that just has … buttons and no logic to them is a nightmare. So after months of living here, I still can't use your coffeemaker or your stove and I feel so stupid.'

Viktor clicked his tongue and reached out to tilt Yuuri's chin up. 'You've never used an induction stove, have you? Your family has a gas stove, and those work a bit differently. I can show you again and … no?'

'I told you, I'm really not good with this.' Yuuri's tone was impatient, but like scales falling from his eyes, Viktor realised it wasn't directed at him but at Yuuri himself. Had it always been like that? 'I need to work it out myself. I'll learn faster. And I can't keep asking you every day for weeks how to boil an egg.'

'You can,' Viktor said, struck with an idea. 'But you don't need to.' He opened and closed a few drawers until he found one with things he barely used. After a moment of consideration, he cleared it out and dumped the stuff unceremoniously in a paper bag. He'd get to this later. He'd keep it, but a host of cake dressing nozzles didn't need to be in easy reach.

'What … are you doing?'

With a small smile, Viktor held up a finger. 'A moment.' He ran out, got what he needed and came back. He held a bunch of booklets out to Yuuri. 'These should be all the manuals, if I forgot one, tell me. I'm afraid that the one for the stove came with separate ones for different languages and I didn't keep the English one, but I'm sure we'll find it online.' He held out his hand and Yuuri returned the bound papers to him, mouth slightly open. 'For now, you want … this.' He passed one to Yuuri again and shoved the rest into the recently cleared drawer. 'All other manuals are in here now. But you can still ask me, Yuuri-kun.' He smiled softly at the warmth that the nickname brought to Yuuri's expression. 'Would you like to make us coffee, my love?'

Yuuri nodded slowly. 'But … can you wait in the living room? I don't want to look stupid. I'm in tatters right now, so … be patient?'

'You wouldn't look stupid, but of course. Shout if you need anything.' He brushed his fingertips over Yuuri's cheek and his heart warmed when his eyes closed at the soft touch. 'I love you so much. Come join me when you're ready.'

Sitting on his couch, Viktor fought down the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. He felt an urgent need to get rid of the vile letter – which contained a lot of kind words with a sincere declaration of love along with the message that it just wasn't working. He would burn it with relish, but he couldn't estimate how long he had. If Yuuri found him with it … He'd be able to salvage the situation because they'd both mentally travelled that path, it seemed, but what they didn't need was more pain.

It didn't take long for Yuuri to return with two steaming cups. Viktor thanked him and cradled his in his hand. For a moment, Yuuri hesitated before he settled next to him. The pause hurt, but what mattered was that he'd decided to be close to Viktor, leaning into him a little even.

'Yuuri … can you do me a favour?' The younger man looked at him, the beginnings of a smile on his lips. 'Where did you want that desk?'

'I …' He blinked. 'You said I could use yours.'

'Absolutely. But you wanted your own space, didn't you?' There were two things he had asked for and Viktor had blown him off with barely a thought. He hadn't meant it like that, but ultimately, it didn't matter that he'd just tried to be practical. 'With this broken plan we can't really add another room, but we can give you a spot that is yours and that at least feels like one, a bit like my library.

'There, under the window, maybe? You like that place, you sit there and read a lot. Would you like a desk there?' He pointed over to the place he meant, thought for a moment and walked over. 'If we put a shelf right here, it will be almost like a small room. You can bring your books.' The second thing. Why did Yuuri need his weird novels if Viktor had enough books – in English, no less – to keep him entertained?

Yuuri's expression was tense, as if he was sceptical. 'Why?'

'Because … when I sulk, I go to the library and occupy the desk I offered to share. You never follow me there because you're kind enough to let me have my moment. You have no retreat of your own because I didn't let you stake out your space. I'm sorry it took me so long to see that.'

'It's your apartment, Viktor. I respect that.'

Viktor closed his eyes, feeling the sting of tears. 'That's how I made you feel, no matter how often I said it's ours, isn't it. This isn't how I want this!' He walked back, sat down, and grabbed Yuuri's shoulders. 'You're not my guest! You live with me. And I was doing a horrible job at making that a reality.'

'Well, it's not like I acted that way, is it? I know it hurt you that I didn't. How can I expect you to treat me like someone who lives here when I keep behaving like lodger?' He swallowed. 'Why is this so hard? I feel like this should be easy. It scares me that it isn't.'

Viktor pulled him close and Yuuri relaxed against his chest. 'Isn't there a saying that all things worth having are hard?' He sighed. 'Yuuri, we've both been alone for a very long time and need to learn how to live together. You've always lived with your parents or a roommate and never learned to take something for granted. And I never had to share my space with someone at all. But we'll grow together.' He pulled away a little and looked at the man he loved beyond words. 'Do you want that? To have this journey with me, stumbling along the way and keeping each other upright? Because for a time, I fear we'll keep tripping. Does … that sound like it's worth it to you?'

Yuuri nodded. His eyes were very bright as he leaned in to brush his lips over Viktor's, who responded with a soft whimper he felt no shame for whatsoever. 'Your butchered Roosevelt quote sums it up nicely, doesn't it? Being with you is a joy, most of the time. It's so worth it. Maybe a good starting point is to remember that we're not antagonists here. We're meant to do this together.'

'I like that, Yuuri.'

'Viktor – I need to know to move on. Were you planning to break up with me? I had that impression when I got back home and I want the facts.'

He froze and looked at his fiancé. Lying wasn't an option. Not to Yuuri. 'I … planning is too strong a word.' Honestly, it was. Even while he'd been writing the letter, he'd come back to his senses. 'I thought about it but dismissed it as a really horrible solution to something that needn't become a real problem. I mean … it's not like there's anything tangible we can't compromise on. You thought about it, too, didn't you?'

Yuuri nodded slowly. 'Sort of. But it didn't feel like a good idea. More like the worst mistake I could ever make. Can you forgive me?'

'There's nothing to forgive. We haven't been comfortable around each other for almost two weeks, with no indication that it would get better. But … I don't want to have to live without you again. Not now. Not ever.'

'Me neither.' Yuuri shook his head and looked at his hands. 'I wanted to cook for you. Today. Sit you down and have a nice, calm conversation about how I feel and how much it hurts me when we're treating each other like that; tell you that I love you so much and that I can't keep doing this, that I'll do better and that I hope you will try, too.' He looked back up, his entire face a mask of guilt that had Viktor take his hand and hold it gently in both of his, caressing it softly. It seemed to help a little because Yuuri licked his lips and let out a soft huff as some of the tension left him. 'But then I found that I have no idea how to work that stove and I can't buy groceries alone and I got so frustrated. I took it out on you. I'm sorry.'

Viktor chuckled. 'I think we'll get you into a Russian course, what do you say?'

'Good plan. I don't want to depend on you for the rest of my life. It's not good for either of us.'

'And go out and … do things, Yuuri. People won't eat you. Grocery shopping shouldn't be the issue, you can always point and try English. With any luck, that should work well enough in the meantime. Take the plunge. It'll be fine.'

'I tried earlier, but I wasn't … in the right mindset.'

'No. I suppose you weren't. Hmm. But I'm not in the mood for cooking, either. What do you say, I go to Vadim and get us takeout? We'll have our adventure tomorrow.'

Yuuri just smiled at him, a little sedately, perhaps, but with so much warmth that Viktor couldn't help but feel optimistic. 'I'd like that. Just don't call it takeout to Vadim's face or he'll hit you again.'

For the moment, Viktor was glad to go out alone. Even now, he missed Yuuri keenly. He focussed on the feeling, let it chew on his soul, thought about what it would be like to know he'd come home to an empty apartment. 'Fuck,' he ground out as he felt his eyes burn. Again. He'd been so lonely, and while he'd never noticed, it had been chipping away at his sanity, and now he'd almost gone and ruined the best thing he'd ever had in his life. Yuuri's guilt in this was so much less than his own, and yet he'd been blaming everything on him. Never again.

He was absent as he ordered food for them and sat down to wait until it was ready. He hid his face in his hands and hoped Vadim would hurry up. A soft sound startled him to attention and his eyes snapped to the young woman with a dark blue apron, who had just slammed a snifter of clear liquid in front of him. 'Hi, Vitya. If you come in here, completely fail to see me, and sit down looking like a pile of misery, you need this.'

'What are you doing here?' he asked, puzzled. Linda was one of his best friends, landlady, and ex-wife of Vadim, who owned this small burger joint, which very much didn't do takeout. Viktor was here so often when he was in the city, however, that he was an exception. And the food was good, nothing like a fast food chin's bland stuff.

'Vadia called. He'd be alone except for one person in the kitchen today and asked if I could help out. And how could I say no to that face?'

'I heard that,' Vadim called over, chuckling.

Linda ignored him. 'What's going on, Vitya? Is Yuuri all right?'

Viktor gave a short laugh. 'He's fine. I'm just … It's been a long day.'

'First fight?'

'Not the first. The last.'

'It won't be.' Linda shrugged. 'But it doesn't matter. This is your first relationship, and …'

Viktor snorted. 'Hardly.'

'I'm not saying he's the first person you've had in bed. But you never tried to live with someone before.'

'Now if you're going to say that I should consider it a practice relationship I'm going to start screaming.' He narrowed his eyes at her. 'This isn't what it is. I love him, Linda. I want to spend my life with him. Don't tell me it won't work. It will.'

'It will if you want it to.' She leaned closer, smiling mildly. 'Talk to him. Long and often and especially about the things that are hard to say. Don't be afraid of fights. They happen. What matters is how you deal with them. Talk more after them, not less. Silence won't solve anything.'

'How is your relationship with Vadim going, exactly?'

Scowling, Linda pulled back, grabbed his glass, and drained it. 'You don't deserve this. Are you like that with Yuuri, too?'

'I …' Viktor deflated and felt heat crawl onto his cheeks. 'Sort of? I'm so sorry, I can't believe I've said this.'

'I can. But I'm willing to whack you on the head if you don't cut it out. Yuuri, on the other hand … I have only met him a few times, but I doubt that your soft-spoken Japanese boyfriend would do that.'

'Fiancé. And no.' He shook his head, feeling lost. 'That's not all. Remember when you came by a while ago, and you were surprised that nothing had changed? I should have listened to you then. I'd pretty much shut Yuuri down every time he tried to alter something. I thought it unnecessary, but now I get that … he was just trying to make it his home, too. And then I complain to him that he doesn't act like it is. How do I get off doing that?' He raised his arms and let them drop. 'I'm sorry for what I said to you. I'm so frustrated – not with him, with me. I'd spent all day blaming him and then I realise it's been me all the time, all me. My fault, not his, and somehow he's not running away but willing to give me a chance. I can't mess this up, Linda. I can't, because if I do, I'll lose him, and that thought …' He faltered before his voice could break.

'Hush, Vitya.' Linda covered Viktor's hand with her own. 'Don't take all the blame. I'm sure he gave as good as he got. Or did he just take your words quietly?'

'No, but …'

'Shut it. You're in this together. You share the success and the blame. Pushing all of it on him is obviously unhealthy, but taking all the responsibility won't make it better. Work on this with him, not by yourself. It'll be easier.' She sighed. 'For the record, up until recently, you did great together. You were the sort of couple that annoys everyone with how sweet they are to each other. How long have you been struggling?'

'Ten days or so.'

'Ten days. Now think how long you've known each other and take that for perspective.' She stood. 'Your order is ready. I'll get it for you. You should hurry home and eat it hot. Look … I'm not a specialist on relationships, perhaps, but mine didn't fail, exactly. We just realised that our lives aren't going to mix well and parted very amicably.'

'I know. I'm sorry, Linda.'

'You and Yuuri have very compatible life goals. Moving in together is bloody hard, Vitya. Don't be too harsh judging yourselves. This sort of transition often causes friction. The important thing is how you deal with it.' She dashed to the counter and grabbed a carefully tied bag. Vadim passed her a note with it and she nodded with a smile before pocketing it. 'And Viktor,' she said when she returned to his table. 'Talk. Don't just decide that now you're not fighting you don't need to. Talk this out. With your words.'

There was an amused gleam in her eyes that made Viktor flush. 'I hear you.' He reached out for the bag. 'I'd like to feed him, first, though.'

'He's easier to talk to then? I get that.' She passed the bag to Viktor. 'On the house, Vitya. Don't mess it up.'

'I don't plan to. Thank you.' He walked back slowly, trying not to jostle their food too much. It wasn't the first time that he had got free food here. The last time had been after the previous year's World Championship where he'd been miserable, pining, and out of inspiration. Vadim was good at reading people, and while he wasn't a talker like Linda (whom he'd send a huge bouquet for her patience and the talk), he was one of those people who strived to make the world a little better for any individual they met.

'Hey, I'm home!' Viktor called as he entered and heard Yuuri's answer from inside the apartment. He came running towards Viktor from the library, his expression open and full of love.

'Thank you. Now that we talked a bit, I'm starving. Hey, I cleared the books off your desk. You didn't get to do that.'

Viktor schooled his expression into one of distant interest. 'Oh, thank you. Did you note which ones they were, by any chance?'

Yuuri's face fell. 'No, I'm sorry. Did I mess up again?'

Viktor blinked. This was one of the things his temper would have flared at. In the past ten days, he'd have seen it as an intrusion, would have reacted passive aggressively or by scolding him outright. He felt … nothing of the sort. Yuuri had tried to be kind. Damn it, it probably had been like this all that time.

His lack of an answer had Yuuri's shoulders slump as he turned away and Viktor almost dropped their food. 'Oh, Yuuri, no!' He dumped it unceremoniously on a windowsill and rushed Yuuri, pulling him in and holding him. Yuuri melted into the embrace immediately, his arms coming around Viktor to keep him near. 'No. Not at all. Please don't keep walking on eggshells. My God, I've messed up big time. Yuuri, my Yuuri, I am so, so, sorry!'

'You've said.' Yuuri buried his face in Viktor's neck. 'I didn't mean to intrude.'

'You didn't intrude, you took charge of something that needed to be done. Thank you. I don't think I'd have had the strength to do it today and tomorrow the pile would have annoyed me.' Viktor would find the letter eventually, and even if he didn't, they'd talked about this. Yuuri knew what had been on his mind.

'Viten'ka?'

'Hmm?'

'Our food is getting cold.' He pulled away and smiled at Viktor. 'Also, I love you.'