April 3rd, 2025 - One Month Later (Around 7 am)
Yuri's POV 1st Person

I wake to the sound of water running and grimace, my morning routine taking less than thirty seconds to begin. I push myself out of bed and stumble down the hall, meeting Otabek in the bathroom, holding a toothbrush. I grit my teeth and let it wash over me, ending quickly. Thank god for small mercies. I lift my gaze from the ground and find Otabek staring at me, a hand suspended, halfway out by his side. He holds himself in, refraining from offering me help before he can gauge my mood. He knows far too well by now that I can be dangerous in the mornings, especially after one of my festive little sessions. Meeting my eyes he seems to decide that I won't attack and offers the stationary hand, which I accept, and rely on far more than I'd care to admit.

"How are you?" Otabek asks me, "I didn't wake you did I? I tried to turn down the alarm but I know that it doesn't always work,"

"No, I only got up a few minutes ago," I tell him, rolling my eyes at his worry, though in an affectionate way. "You know me, no power on this earth can keep me asleep past my built-in alarm." I move toward the sink and grab my toothbrush, eager to get the unpleasant taste of bile out of my mouth.

Otabek gives me a small smile laced with pity; he hates it when I'm sick and this isn't exactly short term. He leaves the bathroom to start making breakfast, but not before giving me a quick kiss on the cheek.

I'm brushing my hair in front of the mirror when something small and warm winds around my legs. I put down the brush and bend over, scooping up the small cat. "Good morning Potya," I tell her and set her on my shoulder. She nuzzles into the side of my face and I laugh, her fur tickles. I slowly make my way downstairs, taking a while to change although I only have to trade one oversized sweater and leggings pair for another. I linger slightly at the mirror, surveying my reflection as I do every morning; nothing yet.

I yawn as I walk into the kitchen and find a plate of eggs and bacon on the table before my seat. Accompanying it is a note that reads,

Sorry, I have to dash- Yakov will kill me if I'm late again. Not that I mind if it means I can spend more time with you, I smile slightly, only Otabek would put that in a note, I'll see you at five, today's one of the shorter practices. I love you, Otabek

I sit down at the table and pick up the fork, indecently excited. Potya meows and looks at me, slightly betrayed. I sigh and give her a bite of my eggs, no bacon though. If it were possible for a cat, she'd raise an eyebrow, knowing she's been tricked. "No," I say as I raise the fork to my mouth. My stomach turns and I go still, trying to hold back the inevitable, I got off too easily this morning and I know it. Thankfully, however, it calms, though the prospect of eating now disgusts me. Potya watches me closely, and walks forward, rubbing herself on my shoulder and purring gently, trying to cheer me up. I don't let her second purpose go unknown and give in, pulling her bowl across the table toward me and setting the bacon inside of it. Shame, I think, I really wanted to eat that. Guess not.

I carry my plate to the sink and dump its contents in the trash, knowing they won't be eaten. I stand there for a second, thinking over my options. I haven't been to practice in a month, not since we found out, and am bored out of my mind. I can't imagine another 7 months of this, just sitting around the house waiting for my husband to come home and watching paint dry. Normally I'd consider going out; shopping or walking around or something, but I've been feeling so shitty lately just going up and down the stairs is tiring.

Eventually, I decide on what to do and pick up my cat, and her bowl as she's still munching happily on my breakfast, making my way to the living room with her in my arms. I set her down gently on the couch and plop down beside her, taking up the remote and turning on the TV. After flipping through channels for a bit I finally find something interesting and sink into the cushions, very comfortable.

Otabek's POV 1st Person (12:32 pm)

My call times out yet again as I try for Yuri. He hasn't answered and we normally eat lunch together, if only via Facetime. I set my phone down and decide to try again later, maybe he's in the middle of something and just doesn't hear me. And this is the most likely scenario but still, I can't help the worries that immediately form in my head. I try to push them away and take a bite of my food, a distraction arriving in the form of Yuuri.

"How is he?" He asks, sitting down at the table across from me.

"Good, I think," I say with a small smile, the smile only the thought of my husband can bring. Yuuri nods, returning my expression,

"At first it's weird, but he'll get used to it eventually. So will you I dare say, after all, Victor did," He turns to look at him, coming toward us and waving cheerfully. The man is so happy all the time I can't imagine how he does it, buoyant at the most trivial of things.

"So how's Yurio?" He questions me immediately, sliding in next to his Yuuri. I mentally grimace at the nickname, knowing how much my husband hates it.

"Good," I say again, but am interrupted by the buzzing of my phone. I check it and find his contact showing, "Sorry, guys, I have to take this," I say and walk away quickly, saved by the bell. Not that I hate spending time with the pair, but it's always a bit awkward without my Yuri around acting as a buffer. Plus nowadays questions like theirs are hard to answer, me not knowing how much I'm allowed to say with Yuri so volatile. It's not his fault though, and I far from blame him, just hate to see him get so upset over things he wouldn't care, or at least would care much less, about before. "Hey," I say as I round a corner, out of the pair's sightline. "How are you?"

Yuri tries, and fails, to stifle a yawn, and replies, "Fine, just hanging out with Potya," He attempts to sound bright and airy but I can tell he's exhausted, his voice slow and groggy.

"Did I wake you?" I ask him, kicking myself, Of course he was asleep earlier, he needs so much of it these days and gets so little at night.

"No," Yuri lies so obviously that I can hear his blush through the phone, "Okay yes," He admits, "But it's fine, I needed to eat lunch anyway, and I meant to call you," His assurance does nothing to assuage my guilt but I try to focus on what he's saying,

"Sorry what?" I ask him, having completely missed whatever he's just said,

"How's it going?" Yuri repeats, sounding slightly too eager, "Training I mean, have you started working on your quad Lutz yet?"

"No, not yet," I tell him, and I can again hear his disappointment through the phone, "I usually work on spins before I go onto that kind of thing, and I've been failing miserably at the Donut spin. You remember how inflexible I am, always showing me up like the contortionist you are," I joke, trying to lighten the mood.

"Not anymore." Yuri snaps, "And I thought you'd have improved by now," He says coldly, his tone of voice changing in seconds. I bite my lip slightly, unsure of how to respond to that, but knowing if I take too long it'll be even worse. I'm saved the trouble however by Yuri's voice on the line once again. "I'm sorry Beka, I don't mean that," He says quietly, and I can tell he feels guilty, "I'm just tired, I didn't sleep well last night,"

"I know," I reassure him quickly, careful so my voice shows no signs of hurt, and when it doesn't I breathe a mental sigh of relief. I don't take his comment personally, I know it's just the hormones talking, but still, I feel sorry that he's going through this, "Don't worry about it," I say, trying to beam a smile across the line.

"Um, do you mind if I go?" He asks me and I can tell he's upset, "I have to make lunch and I'm still really tired,"

"No, go ahead, Yakov's calling us back anyway," I lie, "I love you, see you at five,"

"See you at five," He echos, and hangs up. I use the bathroom before returning to my lunch, missing Yuri even though he's under seven minutes away. Hopefully he'll feel better by the time I get home, I think, Some food will do him good.

But not if he throws it all back up.

When I return that evening it's to a quiet house. I walk into the kitchen and leave my water bottle by the sink. My eyes find a half-eaten slice of pizza on the table and I can imagine what happened. My ideas are reinforced when I find both the couch and bed vacant, but a small figure curled up by the toilet. I gather him gently in my arms and tuck him into bed, laying him down carefully so he doesn't wake up. I needn't have worried though, as he's dead asleep and no power on this earth can wake him up apart from his own body. I press my lips to his forehead and admire the sight before me. My beautiful husband; sick, weak, and tired, but still perfect in my eyes. Nothing will ever change him from being absolutely perfect to me.