Work Text:
Yuuri sits in the moonlight when he can't sleep. It's quiet, the type of calm that makes everything seem secondary and pointless. He watches the stars and thinks about anything and everything, watching the sky turn pink as the sun peeks over the horizon.
Sometimes Victor joins him, bringing coffee and blankets and love. It's almost like he can sense that Yuuri is by himself, alone but not lonely, and fills the gaps before anything changes.
It's nice, Yuuri thinks, watching Victor wake up with the sun. It's refreshing that Victor never pushes, never asks for too much, always steps away if Yuuri asks. And yet Victor knows that he's welcome to join Yuuri on those quiet mornings before dawn. No one else has ever tried to share a moment of closeness this way.
Just Victor.
Yuuri watches the sunlight shine on Victor's hair, watches as the rosy fingers of the dawn wrap them both in its light. He reaches for Victor's hand and squeezes it, holding on gently. Victor squeezes back, still not quite awake.
Maybe to some people these moments mean nothing. Maybe to some, closeness has to involve touching and kissing and physical intimacy. Maybe there are people who would question the authenticity of love without sex, who would ask too many questions and still not understand.
But not Victor.
Yuuri pulls a blanket around the two of them with his free hand. He looks carefully at the man who never forces, never asks for more than Yuuri can give. The only one to meet Yuuri where he is.
Yuuri closes his eyes, letting the moment wash over him, committing it to memory. Maybe some people would need more, but not him.
This? Somehow, it's enough.