恥ずかしい hazukashii
adjective
1. shy; ashamed; embarrassed
The fight between keeping the full-length mirror in the bedroom and smashing it to pieces had become real.
In the time since Yuuri had stopped testosterone, his time in front of the mirror increased tenfold. Normally Yuuri would be the one to roll out of bed ten minutes before they had to be somewhere. He'd brush his teeth, put on some decent clothing, and brush his hair if it was a good day. Viktor sometimes wondered if Yuuri even looked in the bathroom mirror at all.
But now, it was bad. Yuuri examined his jawline in the mirror. When he caught himself being reflected, he would stop, smoothing a hand over his chest and and waist, resting at his hips. He never said anything, never asked Viktor if he was different. But Viktor knew he wondered. Smashing the mirror seemed cruel, but it now felt like a beacon of anxiety. Yuuri looked no different than he had two months ago or two years ago. Yuuri had had top surgery before starting college—Yuuri's body was still Yuuri. Viktor studied it when he could—at night, in bed after dinner and a glass of wine. Maybe it had gotten softer, but it was no different than the softness that took over after too many gold-medal pork cutlet bowls. Viktor still worshipped Yuuri's thighs as they wrapped around him in their intimate moments, and adored the soft stomach when they cuddled after a long day.
This morning, however, Yuuri didn't look in the mirror.
He had come home the night before from the after-school lessons, and had fallen asleep as soon as they had eaten dinner together. Yuuri had looked like he had struggled to even make it that far. Thankfully, the next day was a holiday, and a built in rest-day for the both of them. So it didn't matter that they slept in, and Victor indulged Yuuri, laying in bed next to him, Makkachin and Mochi sandwhiched on either side of them.
"Yuuri, darling, it's almost ten," Viktor hummed, running his fingers through Yuuri's hair. It was his favorite way to wake him up—he had learned the hard way that Sleeping Beauty needed to be woken up gently. A rushed morning in their first year together had earned Viktor a foot-shaped bruise to the stomach.
Yuuri groaned, which was usual, but this time it sounded… visceral.
"I feel awful." He mumbled, curling further into himself without opening his eyes.
"Did you eat anything on the way home?" Viktor inquired, tilting his head to the side. They ate dinner together, and Yuuri had packed the lunches for the week. If Yuuri was sick, Viktor should be too.
"No." Yuuri moaned. The sheets ruffled as Yuuri shifted, changing positions three times before sighing and giving up. He kicked the sheets away. Mochi left off the bed, miffed that his spot on the bed was disturbed. Makkachin, older and wiser, stayed in place, wagging her tail at the prospect of breakfast.
"Oh, god," Yuuri's voice quivered. Viktor sat up, scanning Yuuri for any new injuries—the same old bruised ankles, a blister maybe…
Oh, god.
"Yuuri! Did I hurt you?" Viktor reached out, but Yuuri shrank away , his face flushing beet red. He blinked quickly, trying to push away tears.
"Yuuri, you should have told me, I'll call the doctor—" Viktor couldn't tear his eyes away, though he knew he was making it worse. Blood soaked the front of Yuuri's boxer-briefs, bright-red and scarlet.
"No, no, no," Yuuri's tone rose, frantic. He still wouldn't look up. Viktor touched his cheek—it was so warm.
"I'm sorry, I forgot," Yuuri's voice was small, meek. "I'll take care of it."
"Yuuri, we need to see a doctor." Viktor said firmly. Finally, he could nurse Yuuri back to health, just had he had done for him last flu season.
"No, we don't." Yuuri took a shaky breath, and pushed his hair out of his eyes. He was overdue for a haircut.
"I don't understand…" Viktor rested his hand on his lap, open, palms facing upward.
"Well, of course." Yuuri sighed "You're gay."
"So are you." Viktor pursed his lips. Yuuri faltered, his eyelashes still wet with tears.
"The testosterone wore off… it means… we can start trying for a baby now." His voice was small again. They had agreed, and it had come up—Viktor had asked if it was okay week after week. Yuuri had been determined , but his voice was always tenuous when it came up.
"Now?" Viktor grimaced, looking at the stain. Yuuri had been exhausted, and in pain. They weren't that kinky.
"No… no way." Yuuri laughed nervously. "I just… I haven't dealt with this since high school, I forgot."
"Forgot what? This happened before?"
"Every month, yeah. Didn't you have sex ed in school?" Yuuri curled up again, pressing a hand to his lower stomach.
"It was a catholic school, and whatever we got, I tuned it out. It hasn't come up since then." Viktor looked thoughtful for a minute. "Mila never seemed to deal with it... should I call her?"
"No, no! Please." Yuuri waved his hands. " I just… I…" Yuuri trailed off. "Can you go to the store?" Yuuri picked up his phone from the bedside table and opened the translator app. "I'll write down what I want, and you go find the Russian kind, and I'll be happy."
"Buy what? I have bandages." Viktor said slowly. Yuuri would be frustrated, but the cluelessness was a little adorable.
"You know stores that sell condoms?"
"Only condoms?"
"Uh, no. Normal stores. Drug stores?" Viktor hummed and bobbed his head. "Usually… right next to the condoms… there's pregnancy tests, and then after that, there's all the boxes of pads and tampons"
Viktor unlocked his phone, going to write it in notes, until he saw Yuuri sketching out a list on a piece of paper. He opened the web browser, typing it in slowly
'How to help your boyfriend with tampons.'
Google : 1 million pages, with exactly 0 useful pages. Articles about boyfriends refusing to buy tampons, how it was embarrassing. Nothing useful at all.
"Here." Yuuri held out the paper over Viktor's phone, and he lifted his head. His eyes scanned over the list and the messy doodles.
"Okay… just that? Medicine? Ice cream?"
Yuuri looked queasy. "Coffee."
"We have coffee." Viktor blinked.
"A triple shot mocha."
"Triple shot?"
"Quad. You shop, I'll… clean up."
"Are you going to be okay?" Viktor cast another glance at his husband—he looked like he had been run over by a car. It hurt just thinking about leaving him alone.
Viktor went to change, and by the time he went to get his keys, Yuuri had crawled out of bed and stripped it of its sheets. Viktor stopped, backtracking into the bedroom.
"I love you, moya zvezda," He sang, sliding an arm around Yuuri's waist and pressing a kiss against his still-warm cheek. Yuuri grunted, and Viktor waited until he balled up the blankets together and turned his face up, kissing Viktor back.
"Be quick, please." Yuuri said, the warmth spreading in Viktor's chest from the singular kiss.
Yuuri had done well with the notes- scribbled in English with some messy Cyrillic letters, surrounded by question marks. Viktor had tried to teach Russian cursive to Yuuri, and it had ended in one of their biggest fights, and Yuuri yelling at him that learning to write 3 different syllabaries was easier than reading any Russian cursive. It ended in a compromise—Yuuri worked on his Cyrillic, and Viktor would add katakana to his repertoire.
However, the best notes didn't help him face the wall of identical looking products. He debated calling Yuuri—but decided against it. After staring at the notes like an exam, he grabbed his best guess. By the time he stopped by their favorite café for a mocha-to-go, and got home, Yuuri was in the kitchen, in a 'set of new pajamas, angrily banging a jar of fruit preserves against the counter.
"Tadaima, my beautiful husband!" Viktor sang, hopefully that the anger was only for the jar, and not for anything or anyone else. Yuuri looked up, his gaze fierce. It brought a wave of nostalgia - one of Yuuri's free skates where he had won gold. It had been a hard season—in more ways than one, but mostly for Viktor to wait until they made it back to the hotel room.
"I just want breakfast." Yuuri said as his greeting, trying to twist the lid off again.
"It goes the other way, love." He knew better than to reach out to help, Yuuri's mouth tightening as he looked down at the jar.
"I did that..." He muttered, twisting the lid off and throwing it onto the kitchen counter.
"Let me finish. Here are your things." Viktor handed over the paper cup and bag. Yuuri softened, wrapping his arm around the package and warm cup of coffee. He left with a kiss, disappearing back into the bedroom before coming back with just the coffee cup.
Viktor joined Yuuri back on the couch with two plates of toast slathered in berry preserves, and the reheated eggs Yuuri had left on the counter
"So.." Yuuri trailed off after a breakfast in mostly quiet.
"So?"
Yuuri pulled out his phone and pulled up an app, reading carefully off of it.
"We have the best chance for a baby on the 12th, probably like… 9 am. But the 10th and 13th work too."
"I'll clear my calendar."