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Yuuri Katsuki was no stranger to loneliness. How it was when people were around him, but somehow, so far away, and the way nothing he used to smile about was worth the effort anymore, and the feeling that something was always missing. Sometimes, the loneliness was on purpose. He didn’t want to depend on anyone too much. As if he were overstaying his welcome, he excused himself and didn’t knock on the door again for a long time. Those times, loneliness wasn’t especially painful. Maybe because he did it on purpose, or that there was intention behind it, the loneliness didn’t hurt. But when loneliness meant something, Yuuri’s bones ached and goosebumps coated his skin, and everything was wrong.
He’d long forgotten that feeling. The last time was probably when Vicchan died. When the words came through the phone speaker, everything in his body collapsed. Engulfed by the waves, Yuuri disappeared in late nights and empty convenience store bags, all the debris piling on top of him and letting the skin under his eyes go dry. Everything after the phone call was blurry, but he never forgot the feeling. It went away after a while, and he stopped thinking about it, but when Yuuri stepped off the plane, everything came rushing back.
Finding his reflection in the glass panes, Yuuri avoided looking at the familiar terminals, the waiting passengers, the vague faces. All at once, they reminded him of something missing. Automatic doors slid apart for him, and he could still hear Makkachin barking and feel his chest tightening and arms embracing him. None of them were there. It had only been hours since Yuuri left, but all the same discomforts were poking at his stomach. He had grown up all his years here, without those things, and yet after just months of them being there, Hasetsu felt empty upon his arrival.
“Yuuri!” A warm voice pulled him from the disquiet. His head jolted to the side at the sound, Minako waving from a couple meters away. A smile tugged at her lips and brightened her cheekbones, Yuuri’s mouth following the same curve as he approached.
“Hi, Minako-sensei,” Yuuri said, eyebrows tilted upward sheepishly.
The woman beamed as soon as he spoke. “It’s good to have you back. We’re all so proud of you.”
They boarded the last train of the day, nearing midnight. The ride went in silence. Minako figured Yuuri was tired; she’d seen firsthand how much he poured into the entire season. Mari and Minako had caught an earlier flight home, allowing Yuuri time to have one last day in Barcelona and say his goodbyes. Now that he was finally back in Hasetsu, there was probably a lot going through his mind. Yuuri tried to form words when they departed, but after he couldn’t find them, he resigned to closing his eyes and growing still in all the silence.
The car glided slowly on the rails, bobbing when it hit a bump. Yuuri let his body shift when the train moved, head back against the cold window. Minutes moved slowly, disappearing in the colors behind his eyelids as if time was melting into December. When it was quiet, he could forget, if even a little, about the persisting feeling of solitude. He could hear all the passengers shuffling and talking in low tones. If he didn’t have to look, Yuuri didn’t have to remember that he wasn’t there.
The Yutopia doors opened to Yuuri with a bouncing Makkachin who immediately tackled him onto the porch. A giggle pushed from his stomach as the giant poodle slobbered all over his face and panted frantically. Grabbing the dog around his midsection and heaving him up into the house, Yuuri slipped out of his shoes and hung up his jacket.
“I’m home,” he called into the living space. Right away, Hiroko practically tripped her way over to the front door with a wholehearted “Yuuri!”. For the first time in a long time, he hugged his mother. Last year, after returning home long after his failures, he couldn’t find it in himself to lean on her. But now, having finished the Grand Prix Final with jubilant success, Yuuri wanted to thank his mother. She returned the gesture without hesitance, and Yuuri let his head fall onto her shoulder below him.
“Welcome back.” Hiroko smiled, eyebrows upturned and tears pooling in the bottoms of her eyes.
“We’re so proud of you, Yuuri.” His father emerged from the kitchen, greeting his son with open arms. Yuuri looked at his parents, who had helped bring him here, and only had to nod to tell them that they meant everything to his success.
Minako clutched his shoulders from behind and squeezed. “Do you want some katsudon to celebrate?”
He had been waiting for this question. For a long time he thought about it, but it didn’t take him any to figure out what to do. He had long thought about how much he wanted the warmth of his home, of comfort food, but he couldn’t forget what he said. ‘I want to eat katsudon with you.’ Yuuri glanced at the floor, giving himself a small smile, and replied, “No, thanks. I’ll save it for later.”
Hiroko’s eyes widened in surprise, but it didn’t take her long to understand. “Alright. Go settle into your room.”
“What do you think’s gotten into him?” Toshiya questioned as Yuuri disappeared into the hallway. Hiroko smiled as he walked away.
“I’m sure it’s nothing.”
Yuuri collapsed onto his bed, mattress dipping when his body flopped onto it. Pulling his phone out, his eyes softened.
Victor
Yuuri? Have you gotten home safely?
I miss you already :(
I want to stay in Barcelona with you forever.
Biting down a stupid grin, Yuuri opened his messages.
Yeah. I’m home.
Eyelids fluttering shut, Yuuri waited patiently. He didn’t have to be patient, though, because as soon as he closed his eyes, they were forced open again by a sudden vibrating.
Incoming FaceTime Call – Victor
Yuuri’s heart pounded against his ribs and he nearly dropped his phone trying to swipe.
“Yuuri!” His voice blasted through the phone speaker. Victor’s face was right up to the screen, looking at Yuuri with hopeful eyes.
“Victor,” Yuuri replied softly, chest squeezing.
“I’m so glad you’re home safe.”
“Mm. You too.”
There was a long pause before Victor let out a sigh. “I miss you already.”
Yuuri breathed out, body heavy with longing. “I miss you, too. So much I can barely breathe.” The words tumbled out, and they were true, but his face went red after he said them.
“Yuuri…”
It was quiet again for a while. They stayed like that, looking at each other, breathing even though it was hard. Victor broke the silence with a cracking voice. “You should get some rest, Yuuri. You’ve been flying all day.”
Yuuri nodded, muscles tensing. He knew he couldn’t sleep after this. “Okay.” He tried to hide the reluctance in his voice but spoke anyway. There was a pause again, and Victor moved to hang up. “Victor.” Yuuri stopped without thinking. He looked at Victor. He looked at his eyes, his hair, his face, his shoulders, every bit of the image he could take in, and tried as hard as he could to remember what it felt like to have those things right beside him. “You can call me anytime, okay?”
A sad look shifted in Victor’s eyes. “Okay.” His voice was quiet and grateful, and it yearned to never stop talking to the man on the other end.
“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
With two words, the call ended. Yuuri turned off his lights and nestled under the duvet.
He closed his eyes and didn’t remember falling asleep.
When Yuuri’s eyes opened, the missing feeling finally set in.
There was no one in the spot beside him. No silver hair covering long eyelashes. No head nestled on the next pillow over. No body wrapped in bedsheets. There was only sunlight broken by shadows on an empty duvet, and a warmth where Makkachin snuggled against the side of his legs. There was no Victor, and for the first time, Yuuri realized just how much it hurt.
He groped the empty space beside him and pulled his phone from the charger. Throwing glasses onto his face, Yuuri opened his messages and did the only thing he could think to.
Good morning.
His thumb found the send button without a thought. If this was the only way he could see Victor, to talk to him, to know how he was doing, he would take it. Yuuri was willing to do anything to know Victor, where he is and what he’s doing and if he was okay. Of course he’s okay, he convinced himself, he’s been taking care of himself for years. It won’t really matter if I text him. I don’t have to. But just to be sure, it couldn’t hurt.
Yuuri did a lot of lying to himself starting that morning.
His phone buzzed a couple minutes later. Can I call you now? Yuuri smiled at the words.
Of course. This time, when Yuuri answered, his fingers found the motion much more natural.
He was about to say something. ‘Hello’ maybe, or ‘good morning’, but maybe that wouldn’t work because it was already afternoon in Saint Petersburg. But before he could, Victor split his thoughts in half.
“I had a dream about you last night.”
A dark red crawled onto Yuuri’s cheeks. Face hot, it took all he had not to drop the phone and cover his expression with his hands. “Did you?” The words stumble off his tongue.
“Mmm. I woke up and walked into the kitchen. You were there, wearing an apron and flipping pancakes.” Victor beamed as though it was the happiest moment of his life, though it didn’t even happen. “You were so cute, so I sneaked up behind you and gave you a hug. You kissed my forehead and told me to grab some coffee and sit down.” He breathed out, shoulders high with the puffing of his chest. “As if it couldn’t get any better, we had pancakes for breakfast and talked over coffee, and then we cuddled up on the couch in our pajamas.” A long sigh escaped his lips. “Oh, Yuuri, it was the best dream I’ve ever had.”
Yuuri wanted to laugh. He wanted to laugh at how sweet and pure Victor’s dream was, and how much he wished he had had the exact same one. He wanted to laugh because, in moments like this, he could hardly believe that Victor really belonged to him and that maybe one day they could live in that dream every day. But, instead of laughing, his heart grew heavy with longing, and with a weighted feeling that he wanted to do whatever he could to make that dream come true. So, instead, Yuuri bit down a smile and carried on with the conversation.
After ending the call, he emerged from his room. Hiroko was bustling about, bringing things back and forth from the kitchen.
“Mom?” Yuuri called, entering the living room.
She stopped in her tracks and grinned at her son. “Morning, Yuuri! Did you sleep well?”
“Yeah,” he replied. “Um…there’s actually something I wanted to ask you.”
Hot air sent prickles into his cheeks when Yuuri entered the grocery store. It was a long time since he did one of these runs; rushing out on short notice to get supplies for the onsen was something he missed doing for over five years now. In his absence, he’d forgotten how nice it felt to be worried over something so small.
Surveying the produce, Yuuri grabbed a plastic bag and started loading greens into his cart. He turned around and jumped.
“Yuuri-kun!” The woman was grinning over her shopping cart.
Yuuri clutched his chest as if to slow the frenzy she sent him into. “Ah, Hanako-san. Long time no see,” he breathed.
“Isn’t that the truth? High school was so long ago now.” Hanako glanced down.
Yuuri gave a small laugh. “How have you been?”
“Oh, just fine, thank you. But more importantly…” She smirked and focused intently on Yuuri’s hand over the cart. “Who’s the lucky woman?”
If her scare hadn’t been enough already, Yuuri’s heart stopped. It was as if someone dropped boulders into his stomach, abdomen heavy with embarrassment. The lines in his palms became uncomfortably hot and he swallowed hard. It wasn’t a weird question, it just…caught him off guard. No. Why shouldn’t she ask? He wasn’t expecting the question since he figured everyone saw it unfold on live television, but Yuuri figured Hasetsu folk never were too up to date on the figure skating scene (or the scene in general).
Yuuri let his shoulders fall and his fists collapse. And why shouldn’t I answer? “Oh, actually…My boyfriend and I got engaged. I’m moving out of Hasetsu not too long from now.” There was something about it that felt good to say.
There was a short silence before a shiver went all through Hanako’s body with the clenching of her hands over her chest and her gleaming eyes. “Oh my goodness! Congratulations. It’s so good to hear you’re happy.”
Rubbing the back of his head sheepishly, Yuuri closed his eyes with contentment. “Yeah. And you, as well.” He glanced to the next aisle over, his mother’s request for quick service popping into his head. “I should get going now, but take care of yourself, Hanako-san.”
“Absolutely. You as well, Yuuri-kun. Don’t forget everyone back here in Hasetsu, huh?” She gave a big smile and held her hand up in a wave as Yuuri continued on.
In the evening, after helping out at Yutopia for the day, Yuuri hunkered down at his desk and opened his phone.
Victor
How are you?
Busy at home?
Good luck working <3
Yuuri laughed with an exhale and entered his reply.
Can I call you?
It took Victor only a matter of seconds to shoot back.
You know you can.
As soon as the call connected, Victor told Yuuri about his day, and how much he missed him, and about how he was sure Makkachin can’t wait to come home, and how much he missed him, and about Yuri’s grandpa’s pirozhkis, and how much he missed him. Yuuri grinned like an idiot the entire time and told Victor about his day, and about how much he missed him just as much. He thought back on the grocery store and, for a second, about telling him.
Instead, after a pause, Yuuri said, “I can’t wait to marry you.”
A warm silence pushed through the space between them. Victor hid his eyes beneath his hands and let them slide down his face to cover his mouth. Tears pocketed themselves in his bottom lids, and with a muffled voice, he replied, “Me too.”
Yuuri fell asleep that night fantasizing the feeling of a ring on his finger that wasn’t there yet.
The next few days went painfully slowly. Time went slower than the analog clock in his classroom before the end-of-day bell, than the kilometers passed on morning runs or agonizing moments before score announcements. Suddenly, all the times Yuuri had waited so impatiently for something he couldn’t wait to come seemed like nothing compared to now.
He helped out at home a lot. In the mornings he went skating, then he spent the rest of the day working and eventually settling into bed after dinner and a soak in the onsen. All the parts of Hasetsu he saw every day weren’t the same anymore. Yuuri thought it was funny that after twenty-three years of growing up here, chasing a figure he was sure he’d never touch, it felt so empty without him. It was funny, but it made him ache for something that wasn’t there, and when he was alone the isolation was harrowing. Even though the world was right there, that one thing missing was enough to make Yuuri feel as though everything was gone.
Yuuri supposed Victor was his everything.
It wasn’t easy for Makkachin either. He clung to Yuuri desperately, and every time he left, the poodle would cuddle up next to Mari’s legs or follow Hiroko or Toshiya around while they ran errands and catered to guests. The dog was missing his owner while they were gone for the season already, so having to wait so long to get back home to Russia with Victor was hard for him to handle.
It took a while for all the moving preparations to be finished, mostly thanks to all Victor’s luggage that had to be packed and shipped back. After a little over a week, Yuuri was finally able to go home.
When Yuuri was in college, skating in Detroit, it was the first time he realized that home didn’t have to be where you grew up, or where you started a family, or where you could go back to. Home just had to be somewhere you missed. Even if you didn’t have it, if it was missing, you would know. Some nights, he ached to return to Hasetsu. Others, though, it felt like the world would come crashing down if he did. So he didn’t return “home” for five years.
And now, suddenly, without having ever been there, Saint Petersburg was the home Yuuri desperately wished to return to.
The night before his morning flight, Yuuri surveyed the bags stacked in the corner of his room. They were able to send all of Victor’s things the day before, so all that was left was Yuuri’s personal belongings. He glanced at a pile of posters peeking out from under his bed. A grin found its way to his face as he lifted them and sifted through the sheets. I guess I won’t need these anymore. Just thinking of it made his heart inflate with nostalgia, and, mostly, fondness.
A rapid vibrating disturbed his thoughts. Knowing exactly what was coming, the smile on Yuuri’s face only grew wider. He pulled his phone from the pocket of his sweatshirt and accepted the call eagerly.
“Yuuri.” Victor’s voice on the other line was soft, excited, even. It was welcoming, and Yuuri invited his voice because it was the last time he would hear it this way in a while.
“Victor.”
“All good to go?”
The mattress dips as Yuuri perches himself on the edge of the bed. Makkachin followed suit readily, hopping up on the duvet and slapping his tail against the fabric as it wagged. “Yeah.” He nodded. “I’ve been ready to come home for a long time now.”
Victor’s face melted into a look of yearning. “Me too.”
That was Victor’s second ‘me too’, Yuuri realized. He realized that there were so many things he was waiting for, so many moments and days and months and years he looked forward to, and there was no way more just to agree than ‘me too’. Words could never express the feeling that filled his heart when he was lonely just by seeing someone’s face, or hearing their voice when they weren’t there. Just as Yuuri was waiting, sometimes in loneliness, Victor was too. Victor was lonely, and Victor knew what it felt like to wait for what seems like an eternity for something that seems small when you have it. They both knew. With everything in waiting, they were together.
They chatted for a little while longer before Yuuri had to rest for his early-morning flight. He turned off the lights in his room and snuggled under the bedsheets, Makkachin rubbing up against the crook of his knee.
“Victor,” Yuuri said into the line, wondering if Victor was still listening.
“Mm?”
There was a small sigh of relief, and then Yuuri spoke again. “Can you stay here? Just until I fall asleep?”
Another pause. “Of course.”
Yuuri turned over on his pillow. Resting his head on his arm, he closed his eyes.
“Goodnight.” His voice came out in a whisper, the word catching on his breath.
“Goodnight, Yuuri.”
A tear fell from the corner of his eye and slid down his nose, staining the pillowcase. After sleepless nights he couldn’t count, Yuuri dozed to the sound of Victor’s breath, broken when it came through from somewhere foreign.
“I love you.”
His eyes closed, and Yuuri couldn’t quite recall if the words were a pleasant dream or a blissful reality, or both colliding in a world he never thought he’d reach.
Plane rides were never enjoyable for Yuuri. The space was cramped, he had to stay still for hours upon hours, and somehow he always got stuck behind someone who reclined all the way back or in front of a kid who liked to kick the seat. All he could do was listen to music and wait.
This plane ride, though, was different. For the first time, he was excited to board the narrow aisle and squint at his seat number. Yuuri couldn’t wait to sit down, and his legs jittered waiting for the plane to take off. It would be well over twenty hours – plenty of time for him to change his mind about all the anticipation – but he was restless nonetheless.
One last time, while he still had internet access, he opened his phone.
I’ll be home soon.
The send button pressed itself, and Yuuri switched on airplane mode without another thought. He hardly noticed the other two passengers settling beside him. Glancing out the window, he waited for the tarmac to blend and melt into the distant scenery of earth and bring him closer to where he belonged.
Five hours breezed by without Yuuri even noticing. He was busy listening to potential program music and thinking. He thought about a lot of things; the new season, what it would be like in Russia, if it would be possible to learn Russian in just a couple months, how cold it would really be and what it would look like there were only some of the things that crossed his mind. Mostly, though, Yuuri thought about Victor. He wondered if Victor lived in a grand house with a beautiful view, where the bedsheets were silk and he wandered in cashmere robes. Did Victor have any favourite restaurants, or did he cook at home? As trivial as it was, Yuuri contemplated what Victor wore for pajamas or on days off, because he’d never seen him wear anything in between onsen robes and suits. He thought about so many things, things that would be inconsequential to Victor, but meant everything to him right then.
It was nearing ten hours that Yuuri got fidgety. He had been up to the bathroom three times by now and the drink cart had come by four. The air was stale and brought a suffocating feeling up in the back of his throat, and all the thoughts about Victor became desperate prospects. I just have to get there. Yuuri told himself things about making it home as if his thoughts would make the trip faster.
After the ten-hour mark struggle, it would have been a miracle if Yuuri made it the rest of the way without sleeping. He almost always slept on planes, so dozing at the sight of light clouds brought him another three hours closer. Has time always gone this slowly? When he woke up, the drink cart was coming around again and he drowned his unhinged logic in coke. Settling for a pay-per-view movie for the next two hours, Yuuri did all he could to stop himself wondering if the ride would ever end.
And finally, following twenty-seven hours of screaming babies and kicking toddlers, the announcement came over a crackling PA that landing was coming soon. All at once, the plane hit the ground, and time that came after sped up.
Yuuri Katsuki remembered this feeling. The last time was probably when he returned to Hasetsu after the Rostelecom Cup. When Makkachin barked through the glass, everything in his body felt light. Engulfed by the sweltering feeling of comfort, Yuuri let his legs carry him faster than he’d ever run before. Everything after that face in the glass was clear, and there was nothing that could pry him from that feeling. It never went away, and he never stopped thinking about it, especially when he was lonely. When Yuuri stepped off the plane, everything came rushing back clearer than he’d ever remembered it.
Finding his place in the warmth, Yuuri took in the foreign terminals, the passengers eager to board, the clear faces of people he’d never seen before. All at once, they welcomed him home. Automatic doors slid apart for him, and he could hear Makkachin barking and feel his chest tightening and beating loud against his ribs rushing towards what was next. Everything was here. It had only been minutes since Yuuri arrived, but all the fervor churned in his stomach. He had never been here, with all the new things he’d never seen, and yet after just landing, Saint Petersburg was animated with familiarity.
Cold air hit his face, cheeks tingling with the sensation. Makkachin bounced along at his heels, and Yuuri ran with time passing faster than it ever had before. Yuuri ran. He ran, and he ran, and he kept running until he got home.
Home had always looked different to Yuuri. First, it was a family hot spring, a Japanese home with character and people always passing by. It became a run-down rink with hardly any skaters, filled with hope and impossible dreams. He could hardly believe it became a dorm in Detroit, covered in posters of an idol, with someone he’d never met before. For a while, it was nowhere. And now, home was a man, ears red from the bitter Russian winter, eyes gleaming with a newfound purpose, body rising all at once into a welcome.
“Yuuri!” A warm voice surrounded him in comfort. He fixed his eyes ahead, skies and snow all coming to a blinding future before him. A grin curved all the way to Victor’s ears, Yuuri’s heart following with a squeezing in his chest.
The strangest experience Yuuri ever had was the feeling of something that was once normal to him. Like returning to the ice, swelled feet barely fitting into his skates, body hesitant to fall into the familiar motions, but letting everything go when it recalled the sensation, every piece of him flooded with warmth and yearning for something that was finally right there. Time was slow and sickly sweet, seconds spreading like thick honey in the winter air. Victor’s arms found Yuuri’s frame without thinking, finding the memories rising in the goosebumps on his skin. Face burying into Victor’s shoulder, Yuuri clung to the man’s shoulder blades and squeezed, hard. He clung to the heat, the fervor, the tender feeling that home brought him, and he never wanted to let go.
Neither of them said anything. They breathed, exhaling into the rhythm of beating chests and holding shaky bodies in their arms. Words would never bring justice to a feeling. Knowing that full well, Victor and Yuuri let themselves melt into each other, because they hadn’t in what felt like an eternity.
Makkachin scratched at Victor’s legs, Yuri throwing his tongue out and averting his eyes from the couple. Yuuri reluctantly brought his head up from Victor’s body.
After looking for an answer for so long, his eyes gleamed having finally found it. “I’m home.”
Victor’s lips pulled to the edges of his cheeks. “Welcome back.”
“Gross. How long are you two gonna go at it over there? I’m freezing.” Yuri crossed his arms over his chest and scowled.
A giggle pushed from Yuuri’s stomach. “Sorry, Yuri. It’s good to see you.” His hands slid from Victor’s arms slowly, falling into the man’s fingers for a second before separating. Makkachin immediately pounced on Victor, licking his face all over and forcing laughter.
After gathering themselves, the trio headed back to the warm of Victor’s apartment. Yuri walked with his hands in his pockets, looking out onto the city with Makkachin at his feet. Victor and Yuuri had their fingers laced under gloves the whole time, smiling like fools and exchanging whatever remarks they had missed saying while they were away.
When the door revealed Victor’s apartment, Yuuri’s jaw dropped. He probably should have expected that a five-time world champion would live luxuriously, but it all caught Yuuri off guard when he saw how the person he looked up to for so long lived. He took in all the grey tones and modern pieces, sleek hardwood patterning the pads of his feet. All the lightbulbs above him illuminated and bathed the room in a yellow glow. Dropping his bag at the door, Yuuri wandered to the expansive windows and admired the buildings standing, a colorful crowd blanketed in snow in the heart of Saint Petersburg.
A few of the shipments had already arrived, so the three of them began by unpacking boxes and sorting through everything from Hasetsu. Between Victor and Yuuri, Victor had left more by far, which said a lot considering Yuuri was moving his life’s belongings in comparison.
Yuuri gathered a couple boxes with clothes in them and heaved them in a stack off the ground. “Victor, could you show me where I can put these?”
“Ah, sure,” Victor replied, taking a box from the top of the pile and leading him into the bedroom.
Somehow, seeing the room underneath hanging lights and absorbing afternoon light from giant windows brought a sense of surrealism into Yuuri. To think that here, with a barely-made bed and plain walls, would eventually be scattered with laundry and empty water glasses, was something he couldn’t take in for a moment. He would be the one to settle here, in these near-empty rooms, and make a home with Victor.
“There’s hangers just in there if you want to sort out your stuff.” Victor set the box down in front of the closet. He grinned and pressed his lips to Yuuri’s cheek.
Yuuri nodded, face flushing and tightening with the strain of a returning smile.
He would make this home with Victor, and that meant the world to him.
Yuuri emerged from the bathroom, towel draped over the collar of his shirt and catching drops of water falling from the nape of his neck. Victor sat on the edge of the bed, exhaling with a smile as Yuuri approached.
His words came out gentle, warm, lazing in the familiarity of who they were speaking to. “Ready for bed?”
“Mm.” Yuuri nodded, crawling under one side and pulling the covers up to his chin.
What came next was the same feeling of returning, their arms wrapping around each other’s bodies, legs tangling in between each other and pressing toes, noses touching under closed eyes and above hot breath. Time passed slowly. With every moment, they held every piece of each other they could tighter. Victor’s arms squeezed at Yuuri’s torso, his following the motion on Victor’s face. Yuuri’s fingers brushed against the man’s cheekbone, feeling the warm skin underneath them. They locked gazes, eyes moving a little as they explored the colour under dim light.
Yuuri breathed out, chest falling and head burying in the rhythm under Victor’s chest. He let his eyes close. Just like that, in the pale glow of the world beyond window panes, Victor’s hands parted dark strands in the man’s hair.
Yuuri felt Victor’s chest tighten under the weight of his head. “Yuuri?”
He clutched at the man’s shoulder blades in response.
“After this, can we never be apart again?”
If time was slow before, this time it stopped. Yet, in all the stillness, everything happened at once. A tear escaped the corner of Yuuri’s eye, dampening Victor’s nightshirt. His hands bunched the fabric at his back tight, refusing to loosen. Head falling into a nod against the frame underneath it, Yuuri shut his eyes.
“Always.”
Just like that, Victor’s lips against his head, arms protesting the thought of ever leaving that moment, they fell asleep in the dark bloom of Saint Petersburg.
Okay, keep your cool. Act natural. Yuuri propped his elbow against the kitchen counter. No, that looks stupid. He held the spatula up and put a hand on his hip. What kind of pose is that?
“Yuuri?” A groggy Victor emerged from the hallway, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
“Victor!” Yuuri jumped, nearly dropping the spatula. “Good morning,” he recovered, turning back to the pan and flipping a pancake. You idiot! That side totally isn’t done yet-
“Did you do all this for me?” Victor glanced around, eyes widening as he took in the mess of ingredients in the kitchen.
Blood rushed to Yuuri’s face. “Um, yeah.” He fidgeted with his hands. “Your dream sounded so wonderful, I just…”
Victor approached him on bare feet, cold toes flat on the hardwood. They slid in between Yuuri’s socks, body pressing against the man’s back. He wrapped his arms around Yuuri’s waist and rested his chin on his shoulder.
“You’re so perfect.” Victor could barely speak through his smiling lips.
Yuuri’s heart filled, squeezing with affection for something he never thought would be his. “There’s coffee waiting for you.”
Victor grinned and settled at the round table set for two. The redolent aroma of black coffee enveloped him, sunlight streaming through the large windows. Not long after, Yuuri returned with two plates of pancakes and maple syrup. Taking off his apron and settling into his seat, Yuuri took a sip of his own coffee and held his hand out across the table.
“Thank you.” Victor placed his hand in Yuuri’s, grasping at the ring on his finger.
“It’s nothing. My mom wanted me to be able to cook for you anyways,” Yuuri replied, fingers tracing the lines on Victor’s hand.
“We really should learn to cook more together,” Victor remarked, lifting the cup to his lips.
Yuuri smiled. He smiled wider than he ever had, and he looked out on the snowy rooftops of Russia and heard Makkachin whining for pancakes under the table. With the exchanging of words like these, with the surprisingly casual pajamas Victor wore, with the brand of dog food and laundry detergent in the cupboard, with things that only mattered to them when he was home, here, all the distance between them was erased.
With the feeling of another ring in his hands, here, now, Yuuri realized that the only gold he’d ever need was right in front of him.
No amount of distance could take that away.