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It was always the fucking same. No matter what, one of them would be slushed before they would leave any party. Viktor remembers the first time he really noticed Yuuri. Yuuri was extremely drunk, dancing away his defeat at the Grand Prix Final. Viktor had been the next one that would get so drunk he wouldn’t remember how he got home. It was during the first Grand Prix game Viktor had been a coach and not a skater. It had been stupid, trying to drink his own nerves away. Both had gotten drunk on at the party after the Gran Prix Final in Barcelona. The weekend that changed everything. And if you had to believe Yuri, it had only gotten worse since then.
And Viktor has to say, Yuri is probably right. The worst part is, it’s mostly Viktor who goes down. Now that his final Olympic season as a competitive skater is over. He can still remember that after-party. Yuuri with his gold, Viktor with silver and to everyone's surprise Otabek had bronze. It was fun to see that Yuri didn’t know if he was supposed to be happy for his best friend, or be upset because he missed the podium by only one-hundredth of a point. He did hate the fact that the now-named power couple came before him, and hated them doing a pole dance together even more. But Viktor had an amazing night. He was drunk when they made it to the hotel, and so was Yuuri that night. It didn’t stop them from celebrating in bed. And waking up with a hangover isn’t all that bad if you both wake up with one, together and naked under the sheets.
That had almost been a year ago. And in the year that followed that party, it was mostly Viktor that would pass out after one too many drinks. Yuuri always made sure Viktor would get back to the hotel in one piece. Just like Viktor had done on that very first night where Yuuri had asked him to become his coach. Only this night was different. This night hadn’t been a party. It wasn’t part of the pattern that had formed. Yuri had worked it out, the pattern. For every one time Yuuri would get washed, Viktor would follow it by four before Yuuri would lose it again. Viktor loved coaching both Yuri’s, but sometimes he wished it was just him and Yuuri all the time. Especially when Yuri would go all crazy and obsess about Viktor and Yuuri, like figuring out how many times Viktor would get drunk compared to Yuuri. It was a good thing Yuri wasn’t here tonight. It would break his heart just as much as it had broken Yuuri’s.
Viktor looks over at Yuuri. His hands still hold the beer bottle he’d been drinking. The table is filled with empty bottles. More than Viktor thought they had in the house. Yuuri’s head lays on the table, his eyes closed. A single tear is drying on his cheek.
Viktor is glad he finally passed out. He still doesn’t know what to do with an over-emotional Yuuri. Even after all this time, it still freaks him out a little. And he can’t cry with him. Not yet anyway. It all still feels so unreal. How can someone be a part of your life for so long and then just be gone? Viktor swallows and looks around the house. Spots the collar on the sofa. He shakes his head and stands up. He kisses Yuuri’s head and then slowly lifts his unconscious body from the chair to carry him over to the bedroom and put him to bed.
The bed looks too empty and too big for just the two of them. Viktor stares at it for a long time and then just turns and walks out of the room. Out of the house and into the street. He walks the path he would normally take every night after Yuuri would have passed out from the long training. The long walk he would take with his other best friend. His companion ever since he was little. It’s weird to think that yesterday was the last time they had together.
Somewhere along the walk, the tears come. Viktor can’t hold them in anymore. Makkachin is gone. Holy fuck, Makkachin is really gone. He will never jump up at Viktor again when Viktor comes home after a skating weekend. He will never take up most of the bed in the evening, planting himself in between Yuuri and Viktor. He won’t bark in excitement anymore when Yuuri takes him along on his runs.
When Viktor gets home he crawls into bed with Yuuri, pulls him close to his chest and tries to find comfort in his other true love who had found Makkachin’s dead body when he came home from shopping this morning. He’d shown up at the rink way before it was time for his practice with tears in his eyes. He’d told Viktor the news with stutters and apologies. Viktor had only been able to pull him close then, to let him cry into his chest while his own heart just stopped.
But now his heart was aching and bleeding. Viktor wished it was his time to get drunk and pass out. To become unconscious and for one moment be able to forget that his best friend was dead.