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On a Tuesday-turned-to-Wednesday, Katsuki Yuuri realizes that he is in love with Victor Nikiforov.
Yuuri’s hands grip the toilet seat as his stomach churns, a frothy ocean of vomit rumbling up his throat, burning his esophagus with acidic flames. He breathes, in and out, the smell of vomit crawling up his nose and clogging his brain.
“Kill me now,” he moans, retching up another dribble of vomit.
“Oh Yuuri…” Right. Victor is with him while his stomach tries to escape his body. He’s rubbing his back, a warm, soft line of comfort, and while Yuuri is mortified that Victor has to see him like this, he’s also really, really relieved. It’s horrible enough with Victor, lovely Victor, by his side; he can’t imagine going through this alone.
“I’m so sorry sweetpea. But think of Vicchan and Makka! What would they think if you died?”
That’s… true.
“Damn you Nikiforov,” Yuuri groans, hacking as another wave of nausea hits him. Nothing comes out though; it seems his stomach is finally empty. Yuuri isn’t sure whether to be happy about that or not.
“Shhh Yuuri. Breathe for me, please.” Yuuri gasps, the air scraping the back of his acid-laden throat painfully. Tears blur his vision, and he can’t hold them back.
“Vitya it hurts-”
“I know luchik, I know.” He stops rubbing Yuuri’s back, only starting again when Yuuri whines. “Do you think you could stomach some water? Maybe take some medicine too?”
Yuuri shakes his head, whimpering when the movement makes him dizzy.
“Ok ok, shhh solnyshko shhh.” One of Victor’s hands comes up to massage Yuuri at the base of his neck. He sighs, head tilting forward in slight relief. God but that feels good.
“Feeling a bit better now?” Victor whispers, thumbs gently pressing into Yuuri’s sore muscles.
“Mm.” It feels easier to breathe now, so Yuuri does, watching his breath ripple across the water in the toilet. He relaxes completely into Victor’s grip, ignoring the ominous gurgling coming from his stomach.
“...Do you want me to go get you a pillow? Your knees must hurt-”
Yuuri sobs, tiny and pitiful. “Please,” he begs, fingers scrabbling to find Victor’s hands, “Stay. I can’t- can’t-”
“Ok, I will, shhh you’re safe m- Yuuri. I’ve got you.” Somewhere in the back of Yuuri’s head, he registers Victor’s strange trip up, wondering what it was. Mostly though, he just sags in relief. Victor’s here, he’s going to stay here.
The gurgling lessens a bit, and Yuuri feels comfortable to pull away from the toilet for the first time that night. He turns to meet Victor’s eyes, wide and a little panicked, even as he tries to smile reassuringly.
“Hey,” he says, swiping his thumb over the back of Yuuri’s hand, “I know you’re probably sick of hearing it by now, but how are you feeling? Are you alright?”
Yuuri hums. “Well, I’m definitely sick, but not because of you asking me how I’m doing, Vitya.”
It takes a second for it to click, but then Victor’s eyes narrow and he blinks slowly, like he does whenever someone cuts him in line at his favorite cafe or when Yuuri steals his popcorn again. “Katsuki Yuuri, I cannot believe I am friends with you.”
Yuuri bites his lip, trying to fight off a smile. “H-Hi ‘friends with you’,” he starts, snickering as Victor’s face starts to droop, “I’m Y-Yuuri!”
Victor glares at him, unimpressed before dropping his hand. “That was unbearably awful. I’m disgusted by you Katsuki Yuuri.”
A pause. Yuuri doesn’t know what face he’s making, but if the horrified look on Victor’s face is to be believed, it’s pretty damn evil. “Oh shi- Yuuri don’t you dare-”
“Hi ‘disgusted by you Katsuki Yuuri’,” Yuuri says, smirking, “I’m Yuuri.”
Victor groans. “Okay, that’s it. You’re done, you’ve used up your quota of bad jokes. If you say anymore, I’ll get sick, and you can bet your ass I’ll puke on you.”
Yuuri laughs, and oh shit does it still hurt. Everything hurts. But honestly, he doesn’t give a shit at this point. Because he’s here with Vitya, laughing his ass off in his bathroom, smelling like eau-de-vomit at two in the morning and-
Oh.
Oh!
“Yuuri?” Victor takes up his hand again, clutching it in his. “Are you ok? Do you need to vomit again?”
Yuuri looks at Victor. Oh, his mind whispers, I’m in love with him.
“Fine,” he says numbly. He’s not freaking out, per se, but it’s hard to wrap his mind around being in love with Victor. Victor, who always sings in the shower, alternating between Queen and Lady Gaga. Victor, who baby-talks to both Makka and Vicchan in Russian, English, French, and (recently) Japanese. Victor, who knows how Yuuri likes his tea on good days and bad days and all the days in between. Victor who-
-is Vitya.
That’s right. Yuuri’s in love with his best friend, Vitya. And now that he thinks about it really, is it so shocking that he is?
Victor, of course, can’t hear Yuuri’s little monologue. “No, really Yuuri, are you alright? Do you need water? Should I call for someone? Yuuri-”
“Shhhh Vitya,” Yuuri says, taking Victor’s other hand in his. “I’m fine, I promise. Just…”
“Just?” Victor prompts, and Yuuri thinks, No. Tonight’s not the night for huge revelations, especially when he doesn't know if Victor feels the same way.
“Just… kinda tired. Exhausted actually. C-can we go to bed?”
Victor's eyes softens. “Of course Yuuri.”
He stands, brushing off some invisible dust from his pants. “Can you stand by yourself?”
Yuuri's about to say yes when he shifts and feels fiery-cold needles pricking at his feet and legs. “...no.”
Victor looks at him, searching. “Ok then, hang on.” And then he swoops down and literally sweeps Yuuri off his feet.
“V-Vitya!” Yuuri holds on to Victor’s neck for dear life. It’s not the first time Victor has picked him up, but he’s significantly more dizzy this time around, from sickness and lovesickness alike.
“Clingy,” Victor murmurs, and Yuuri can almost hear the smile in his voice.
“Ah sorry, should I loosen up a bit?” Yuuri does so promptly, hopefully letting Victor breathe a bit more.
“No no, you’re fine! You can, you can uh, keep clinging if you want.” Oh, Victor sounds a bit flustered. Huh.
“Ok then,” he whispers, tightening his hold. He ducks his head into Victor's shoulder, sighing into the soft warmth.
“Glasses?” He mumbles, eyes shut. This late in the night, Victor smells like Makkachin and flour, with just a hint of the cologne he wears during the day. It’s a good smell, a safe smell.
“They’re on the bathroom counter zolotse. You can wear them again in the morning.”
“Mm.”
Eventually, they arrive at the bedroom. Yuuri’s gently propped up against the headboard. When Victor goes to leave, he grabs his wrist. “Wait,” he pleads, voice cracking. He’s too tired and sick to be embarrassed right now, though that’ll surely catch up with him in the morning. “Please stay.”
“Oh Yuuri…” Within a second, Victor’s hugging him, and Yuuri is so so relieved to be in his arms again.
“Yuuri,” he whispers, making Yuuri shiver at the feeling of his lips so close to his ear, “I’m not leaving you, I promise. I just want to get you some clean clothes.”
Yuuri supposes he should say something. “Yeah, I uh, I’d like that. A lot.”
“Ok,” Victor says, and God Yuuri loves his voice so much, all sweet and low and pretty. “You have to let go of me though.”
That’s a horrible idea. Victor shouldn’t be allowed to make ideas anymore if they’re going to be this horrible. “No,” Yuuri says, defiantly pulling Victor even closer, making him lose his balance and fall onto the bed.
“Yuuri!” Victor giggles, trying to push himself up with his elbows, “Yuuri you need a new shir-”
“No.”
“Yuuri!”
“Shhh.” Yuuri pats Victor’s head softly. “Sleep time now.”
Victor’s laughing, and despite being sick earlier, Yuuri feels absolutely blessed. He snuggles closer, sighing as he felt Victor’s breath against the skin of his neck.
“ Solnyshko, at least take off your shirt! It still has vomit on it!”
Yuuri freezes before shoving Victor off. “Oh God,” he says, pulling his head over his head. “I’m so sorry!”
Victor groans, as if pained.
Vitya’s so sweet, Yuuri thinks as he struggles with getting his shirt off, he’s empathizing with my utter inability to take my shirt off.
“Y-Yuuri, do you uh, do you need some-”
“Got it!” Yuuri exclaims, chucking the shirt across the room with a grunt.
“ Oh God…”
“Victor? Are you okay?” Suddenly, Yuuri realizes that Victor’s on the floor, staring at him slack-jawed and wide-eyed.
“Oh shit! I pushed you off,” Yuuri leans down to pick Victor up and settle him into his lap, “I’m so sorry for that, Vitya! I-It was an accident!”
“It’s alright Yuuri,” Victor says, sounding… really weird.
“Hey Vitya, are you ok?”
“Perfectly fine, thank you for asking.”
“It’s just uh,” Yuuri gulps when Victor buries his face into his neck, “You sound a bit… out of breath?”
Victor chuckles, and ooh that feels weirdly nice against Yuuri’s neck, all rumbling and soft. “I’m fine Yuuri.”
Yuuri swallows. “O-ok, if you’re sure.” Victor hums, and they lapse back into a silence that slowly turns more comfortable as time ambles along, a lazy little bumblebee in the garden of the universe.
Just as Yuuri shuts his eyes, he hears Victor say, “We should go to bed.”
“Mmmyeah.”
“...Are you going to let me off?”
Yuuri considers this. On one hand, he doesn’t want to. On the other, he has to; otherwise, they’ll never get to sleep at this rate, and then he’ll never get to tell Victor he loves him in the morning.
Why is adulthood so hard?
“Ugh, fine.” And thus Katsuki Yuuri loosens his grip just enough for one (1) Victor Nikiforov to slip off his lap as well as his shirt before slipping into his bed. Victor’s bed, not Yuuri’s bed.
“Yuuuuuuri~” Victor pats the pillow right beside him. “Come here!”
Yuuri allows himself to be pulled into Victor’s arms under the covers. He sighs, blushing at the feel of Victor’s skin against his. It’s not like they haven’t cuddled without shirts before but…
It just feels nice, is all. That, and it’s warm.
And so, with the sound of a hushed ‘good night’ echoing in his mind, Yuuri finally falls asleep in the arms of the man he loves.
All in all, not a bad way to end the day.