Itās my wedding anniversary and Deadpool 2 killed me in so many wonderful ways and a conversation I had with my husband about my parents inspired, well, something. Enjoy?Ā
āSorry Iām late, I wasāā
Yuuri stops, biting back the rest of his sentence. Viktor is there, hovering over the bed, a finger to his lips. Silently, Yuuri pads over, lays down the bag of bento boxes on the bedside table. His mother is turned on her side, fast asleep, and heās relieved to see the rise of her chest beneath the covers, the color of life in her cheeks.
āHow is she?ā he whispers, shifting to Viktorās side. An arm wraps around him, instantly, tucking him close.
āBetter,ā Viktor says.
Yuuri feels Viktorās head turn, feels him press a kiss into his hair. He sighs, head tilting against Viktorās shoulder. The hospital is stuffy, an undertone of bleach wafting in the air. All four walls of his motherās private room are slate grey, the only spots of color coming from the cheap prints of uplifting scenery. Ā
Yuuri hates hospitals. The last time he visited, his father had broken his pelvis from too much drunken dancing on tabletops. (āYouāre eighty,ā he reminded his father, who responded with a good-natured laugh.) And it doesnāt get any easier, stepping into the too-bright corridors, walking past trollies and white coats and people in checkered gowns ambling about in a daze.
Mari was the one who called this time.
Yuuri knew something was off when her words streamed out in a garbled, staccato mess. Mom, he caught, and heart attack, and then it was his turn to lose his wordsāhis breathāas the world spun around him.
It was Viktor who got them the plane tickets, who settled Yuuriās skating classes and found a substitute. Who cancelled every TV gig and board meeting to stay by Yuuriās side, to hold him when the shakes and tears returned.
āTheyāre getting old,ā Yuuri says. Heās thought it, so many times, but to say it out loud is like a stab to the heart. He thought he had faced all kinds of pain before in his life.
Those have nothing on this.
āWeāll be here.ā Viktorās voice is soft, soothing. āWeāll care for them. Help out with the inn until Mari can find helpers, stand on her own two feet.ā
Yuuri swallows. āBut your skating coverage, your clothing lineā¦ā
āTheyāll find another commentator, and for the clothing line? Thereās a couple of handy little things called video conferencing and Facetime.ā Viktor reaches for his handāthe one curled tightly into the fabric of his pantsāand tangles their fingers together. āOur family means more to me than anything in this whole world.ā
Yuuriās chest goes tight and hot. He looks up at Viktorāat the softness in his eyes and the warmth in his smileāand without thought, without hesitation, presses trembling fingers to Viktorās jaw, his mouth to Viktorās lips.
āI love you,ā he says between kisses. āI donāt know what Iād do without you. I donāt- I canāt-ā
āYouāll never have to,ā Viktor murmurs, and Yuuri feels as though heās on fire, and oh ā Viktorās pressing his mouth on his neck, at the pulse point thereā
They jolt apart, like teenagers caught in the act.
His mother is awake, her smile gentle and knowing. āDo I smell katsudon?ā she says, brightening, while Yuuri swipes furiously at his eyes.
āThatās not the best for your heart, mom, so Iāve made some oyakodon insteadā¦ā
As he pulls out the bento boxes from the bag, he hears the rustle of movement when Viktor bends over to embrace his mother, hears her bashful, āIāve caused you so much trouble, Vicchan,ā and Viktorās accented, much-improved Japanese reply of, āAll I want is for you to be healthy, mama.ā
Mari and his father join them later, bringing in flowers and balloons that light up the room with vibrant colors. And watching Mari comment on Viktorās new hair partingācovers the bald spot pretty well, she says over Viktorās gaspāwatching his father clap a hand on Viktorās shoulder in a manly gesture of appreciation, Yuuri canāt deny the feeling that fills him inside.
Heās home, heās happy, and with Viktor by his side, he can conquer anything.
vaporwave
yousharknotpass
