Alright as much as I adore Yuuri and Victor being ridiculously in love and basically joined at the hip, I also love the idea of Yuuri, introvert that he is, just needing to be alone sometimes. After all, no matter how much you love someone with all your heart - a friend, a partner, a sibling - if you spend every waking hour of every waking day with them, that can be exhausting. They sleep together, train together, eat together, and are really only apart when one of them runs errands alone or one wakes up early to walk Makkachin in the morning while the other sleeps in, and sometimes Yuuri just needs to be by himself.
Victor doesn’t understand at first. This whole thing is new to him anyway, and he doesn’t get that Yuuri isn’t mad at him when he retires early into movie night or occasionally seems to prefer the dog’s company to his. He’s frustrated that Yuuri won’t just tell him why he’s angry, and Yuuri is frustrated that Victor doesn’t understand that he isn’t. He really isn’t.
It takes them some time and a few minor quarrels, but Victor slowly starts to realize what he means - that as much as Yuuri loves him (and he doesn’t doubt that Yuuri does), he needs time to himself, a place of his own. They share everything - a home, a bedroom, a bathroom, a rink - and Yuuri has very little to call his and his alone.
So when Yuuri is away on a trip to visit his parents in Hasetsu - a trip that Victor knows he needed to take alone, just this once - Victor gets to work.
He clears out the old dusty boxes and books from the small extra room, finds new places for some things and donates the rest of them. He vacuums and dusts and puts down a fluffy rug over the cold hard wood, puts in a kotatsu because he knows Yuuri’s feet get cold easily in the bitter Russian winter, and piles the love seat by the window high with every blanket and pillow he can spare. As a finishing touch he even puts in a doggy door so that Makkachin can come and go as he pleases even whenever Yuuri wants to keep the door shut.
When Yuuri comes home and gets unpacked, Victor hustles him over to the room with a grin on his face. And Yuuri is confused at first: “Vitya, what is this?” And Victor just smiles at him and kisses him on the cheek. “It’s your room.”
At first he can see the tiniest glint of anxiety flitting across Yuuri’s eyes, can practically hear him wondering if Victor is kicking him out of their bed, and he is quick to correct him. To tell him that he knows he doesn’t understand fully what goes on in Yuuri’s head, but that he also knows Yuuri needed his own space. To keep him sane, to keep him calm, and when Yuuri realizes - really realizes - what Victor has done for him, he could cry.
Sometimes they curl up together on the loveseat and watch snow fall outside, or eat together with their feet tucked warmed under the kotatsu. Sometimes Yuuri lounges with a book or his music and Makkachin on his lap. Sometimes he keeps the door open, and sometimes he shuts it, and that’s okay too, because he always comes out eventually, and he seems lighter, more rested, more calm.
Victor doesn’t need to spend every second with him to know he loves him. Knowing Yuuri is happy and comfortable makes the time they spend together so much sweeter.