help ur face and mouth and hair and arms

etherealalchemist  asked:

Consider this: It's evening. Victor and Yuuri are in their apartment, laying together on the sofa with Makkachin plastered on their legs. Yuuri's halfway on Victor's chest, halfway between Victor's body and the sofa, and their legs are twined together. It's raining outside and their dark apartment is lit with candles around the room and on the coffee table beside them. Victor plays with Yuuri's hair and, with a smile, softly sings "I Can't Help Falling in Love With You" to his life and love.

jenn… heck me up jenn…

consider that this always happens after a hard day of practice, after round after round of jumping then falling then trying only to fall again. yuuri doesn’t get increasingly frustrated, not really, because he’s used to it—climbing mountains just for the chance to stand on the same ground. 

no, yuuri doesn’t get frustrated, but it wears on him, being surrounded by people like victor and yuri, being reminded that he can ache and sweat and cry and bleed all he wants but it will only achieve just so. he can’t help this feeling either, no matter how hard he tries, because he’s still happy for them, so happy and so proud, heart swelling at their every success; so comparing himself to them makes the guilt weigh more heavily. he imagines it simmering beneath the ice that he skates on, pulling him down, down, down when he attempts another jump.

“we should take a break.” victor frowns as he holds out a hand to help him up.

yuuri chokes on a breath. “just—one more—”

“you said that earlier, and you’re hurting—”

“one more.” 

yuuri’s voice echoes around the rink, startles yuri out of his sit spin a few meters away. prompts mila and georgi to look over from where they’re doing their cooling down stretches. victor sends them a tight smile, the corner of his eye catching yakov’s figure standing at the mouth of the rink, arms crossed and face guarded. he’s silent, watching. 

victor tears his eyes away and pulls yuuri into a hug. 

he sniffs. “vitya—”

“show me one more, solnyshko, and then we’ll head home for the day,” victor says softly, fingers carding through the other man’s hair. “okay?”

yuuri nods against his shoulder. 

and that night, when yuuri’s in his arms, drifting off to the sound of victor singing into his ear, victor wipes at the leftover tears drying on his cheek. we both can’t help falling, so let’s fall together.