A Yuuri Katsuki #Relatable Anxiety Feel:
Viktor, as they’re loading the groceries into the trunk, says, “Oh, we forgot sour cream.”
“Oh well,” says Yuuri, who is already planning how to work around the absence of sour cream in their fridge for the next week.
“Let’s go back in and get it,” says Viktor, closing the trunk with a decisive bang.
“Um…no, that’s okay,” Yuuri says. “We don’t–do we need sour cream? I don’t think we need sour cream.” Half of Viktor’s recipes require sour cream. It’s a Russian thing. Yuuri has a What I don’t know can’t hurt me policy with regards to how much sour cream the typical Russian consumes in a week.
“Yuuri,” Viktor laughs, taking Yuuri’s hand, “Come on. The store is right there–it’ll take two minutes. It’s not like we’re in a hurry.”
“We’ve left the store,” Yuuri says. “We have to live with the purchase we’ve made. At least until another shift. We can come back in a few hours?”
“But we’re here now,” Viktor says, utterly perplexed.
“But the same person who just checked us out will probably check us out again,” says Yuuri, “and the only thing we’ll have to buy is two family-sized cartons of sour cream. They’ll know that we were just in there. And that we forgot something. And that our family eats a ridiculous amount of sour cream. Viktor, they’ll want to ask us about it.”
“Okay,” Viktor says. “Would it be better if…I went in and got it myself?”
“No. We go to this store every week. They know we’re married. The next time I’m here they’ll ask me Why did your husband buy all that sour cream.”
Viktor, gently, laughs and says, “Darling, I really don’t think cashiers pay that much attention to what people buy.”
“I know,” Yuuri groans. “But what if they do?”
“It’ll be fine,” Viktor says, and starts towards the store. “I’ll buy something other than the sour cream. I’ll be back in two minutes.”
When Viktor settles into the car, passing the single shopping bag with two huge containers of sour cream and one singular pack of gum in it, Yuuri releases a mournful bleat and says with the gravity normally reserved for funerals, “We can never come back to this store”