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The off season was always the hardest time of the year for Viktor.
It’s not as if the depression magically went away when he was competing. Some weeks he’d find himself struggling to wake up early enough to do his pre-practice runs. Days he skipped out would leave him with regret because of the full haze over his mind and his inability to be fully warmed up enough to meet Yakov’s standards. In other weeks, the sadness would creep in as the day progressed and in the evening he’d sit in his dark apartment with Makkachin and watch documentaries to keep himself from spiraling.
(He always spiraled eventually. No one can avoid the darkness of reality forever.)
But during the competition season, Viktor at least had something tangible to look forward to, to be motivated by. He had events that he had to attend. He had people who depended on him. He had the chance to inspire younger people and to make fellow skaters work even harder in the hopes they could catch up to him. So he pushed himself, spent as much time honing his skills as possible, imagined new programs for the future, doted on his beloved pet.
He kept active. He fought the loneliness. He worked himself past his limits.
And then he met Yuuri, and he convinced himself it was all going to be okay.
The first day in his new life with Yuuri that he slept through all five of his alarms resulted in him immediately bursting into tears once he realized what happened. It startled Yuuri, whom he’d never let himself break down in front of, who loved all of him but didn’t know about the depth of the sadness that Viktor kept hidden. And after he ran into their shared bedroom, Yuuri tried his best.
“What happened?”
“Did you have a bad dream?”
“Did you hurt yourself?”
“I’m so sorry I didn’t wake you but you seemed so tired yesterday and you kept turning off your alarms so I thought you just wanted the extra sleep.”
All Viktor could do was lie in bed, shake his head, and sob.
Eventually Yuuri climbed back into bed; once Viktor felt his weight beside him, he turned into Yuuri’s open arms and held onto him tightly.
Viktor hated this. Hated the depression. Hated the sudden mood swing out of nowhere. Hated that he’d caused his fiancé to panic over something as insignificant as sleeping in so late.
When he calmed down – how long had it been, only five minutes? – he opened his eyes to see Yuuri’s worried expression.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry for scaring you.”
“Can you tell me what happened?”
“I just.” Viktor snuggled closer into Yuuri’s embrace. “I got upset that I slept so late because that means it’s gonna be a bad day. Or a bad week.”
Yuuri hummed. “It’s okay, Viktor. We don’t have to do anything today.”
“But we were supposed to practice with Mila and do dinner with her today.”
“We can cancel. I’m sure she’ll understand.”
Viktor sat up and rubbed his tear-streaked face. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I didn’t think the depression would come back so heavily. I didn’t want you to see me like this.”
“Hey, it happens. You’ve seen me during a panic attack, why would you think having a depressed episode would change things?”
“Because it should, because I have no reason to be depressed with you in my life, because it’s stupid how intense the mood swings get when I’m so weighed down.” Viktor felt his eyes welling up with tears again. Yuuri sat up and grabbed his hand, rubbing his ring gently.
“I decided to marry you, Viktor. Mood swings and all. But you need to talk to me instead of hiding things. Can we try that?” Viktor nodded his head. “Okay good. I made breakfast and I’ll text Mila to reschedule.”
Viktor nodded again, and slowly got out of bed.
“You’re beautiful,” Yuuri said one morning during a bad week.
Viktor had just pulled himself out of bed and was sitting at the kitchen bar, drinking a cup of espresso. He almost choked on the drink at Yuuri’s words.
“What?”
“You’re beautiful.” Yuuri smiled, taking a sip of his tea. “And I just wanted you to know that.”
Viktor couldn’t help but snort. “I just got out of bed and I’m wearing old sweats. How is that beautiful?”
“Please, you look adorable with your hair messy like that, and you’re beautiful regardless of what you wear.”
Viktor felt himself blush and grabbed a piece of toast off Yuuri’s plate, ignoring his fiancé’s immediate outrage.
“How did I ever get this lucky?” Yuuri said, kissing down Viktor’s throat. Viktor whined beneath him and closed his eyes.
“No, come on, look at me. You’re breathtaking.”
Viktor felt himself ready to protest, but simply let himself melt into Yuuri’s kiss.
They’d been in between documentaries when Yuuri had started complimenting him. And as Viktor blushed more and more with each word, Yuuri’s expression went from fond to wanting.
It was different to hear Yuuri praise him. Viktor was used to being praised – being the top skater in the world resulted in thousands of fans and very positive quotes in articles about him. He had boxes full of fan mail and a handful of fan pages and forums dedicated to celebrating his every move. But none of those people knew him the way Yuuri did. None of those people had seen Viktor in his arrogance, in his pride, in his delight, in his sadness. They knew a very carefully perfected image of Viktor Nikiforov, a figment of the mind who had everything down to his flaws choreographed.
Yuuri had embraced every part of Viktor, had loved him even when they both knew he was being irrational, and didn’t waste opportunities to match Viktor’s adoration with his own.
They didn’t have sex when Viktor got this low. It was Viktor who’d put on the brakes during a night where their making out normally would have turned into more, stopping things to explain that in the past he’d use sex as a distraction for how empty he felt inside.
So they kissed and touched, and then Yuuri would go off to the bathroom to jerk off, and Viktor would relax on the bed or the couch and think about how lucky he was.
“You make the prettiest noises,” Yuuri purred after he broke away from the kiss. “I love knowing that I’m the only one who will ever see you this way again. My beautiful fiancé.”
Viktor reflexively put his arm over his face. “How can you say things like that while knowing you’re the most beautiful man in the world?”
Yuuri laughed, pulling Viktor’s arm down, and kissing him sweetly. “I think that title is up for debate, but you’re always so good to me. Why wouldn’t I want to take pleasure out of that?”
Viktor moved his arms to run up and down Yuuri’s bare back. (Shirtlessness was okay, but pants had to stay on.) “I’m so in love with you.”
Yuuri rested his body against Viktor’s once more, his hardness pressing lightly against Viktor’s hip. “I’m glad you’re in love with me. Because I’m in love with you too.”
Viktor kissed him again, rolling them over so he was on top. “We’re going to have to cut this short soon,” he confessed, “but you look amazing when you’re flustered like this.”
Yuuri grinned. “If I look half as amazing as you do, I think we’re doing a pretty good job.” He leaned up to kiss Viktor deeply one more time before moving to sit up. “I’ll be back in a while, choose us a good nature piece to watch, okay?”
“Okay.” Viktor smiled as Yuuri went into their bedroom and cued up a new documentary as he willed himself to calm down. The depression… was still there, of course, but knowing that the love of his life still loved him even when his mind got bad would always make it a little more manageable.