The first time Viktor and Yuuri fight, they’re up until 5 in the morning.
It started with nothing in particular, actually. Something that Viktor had forgot, which happened often, but this time, Yuuri didn’t feel well enough to let it slide.
So of course Yuuri didn’t tell Viktor he was upset. He was still working on opening up to him, after all. It had barely been a month since that day at the beach. Progress wasn’t instant.
Yuuri’s lack of admission turned into a strange tension, which led to Viktor trying to comfort Yuuri. Which was exactly what Yuuri had said didn’t help him, that day at the beach.
Yuuri snapped when Viktor tried to engulf him in a hug and bury his face in his neck, apology ready on his tongue. Without thinking, Yuuri shoved Viktor back, with enough force to make him stumble.
“What’s wrong with you?!” Viktor yelled, blinded with hurt and confusion. Viktor knew what defeat on the rink felt like, but it didn’t compared to the bitterness he felt in his throat in that moment.
Yuuri’s face crumpled into shame and frustration. He dropped to his knees and held his face in his hands.
Viktor didn’t know what to do. Should he try to hug him again? Wouldn’t that result in another shove? But he felt useless standing there, hands craving to hold Yuuri’s.
“Yuuri…” Viktor started, reaching out. Yuuri only shook his head and covered his eyes with his arm.
“Don’t, Viktor. Please.” And Yuuri ran to his room, slamming the door shut behind him.
Feeling lost and dazed, the only thing Viktor thought to do was to follow him.
“I said don’t!” Yuuri cried, hearing Viktor’s gentle knock on his bedroom door.
“Yuuri, I just want to help,” Viktor tried.
“I don’t need your help.”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t give any.”
“Viktor. I overreacted. It’s fine.”
Viktor had to stop himself from whining. “No, Yuuri, it’s not. I made you upset. Please, let me help you.”
Viktor didn’t expect what came next.
“I. Don’t. Need. Your. Help.” Yuuri’s voice was low, measured, desperate.
And suddenly Viktor came to his senses, remembering what Yuuri told him. He didn’t need anyone overstepping his boundaries.
Viktor backed away from the door slowly, making sure his footsteps were audible. “I’m not weak,” he heard Yuuri whisper from his room, and he knew he wasn’t meant to hear that.
Viktor returned to his room, hugging Makkachin close to his chest. “He’ll come out,” Viktor told the large dog. Makkachin thumped his tail and stuck out his tongue. “Eventually,” Viktor mumbled.
Yuuri did, almost three hours later. Viktor noticed his shadow through the thin screen of the door. Yuuri hadn’t knocked, and Viktor didn’t think he was even going to. He opened the door for him anyway.
Yuuri’s eyes were turned down, but he lifted his hand from his side. Viktor took it with a smile.
“I made you feel weak.”
“That’s not your fault.”
“But I did. So I’m sorry,” Viktor said. “I should have known better.” He squeezed Yuuri’s hand. Yuuri squeezed back.
“I’m sorry too,” Yuuri said. And slowly, he let his arms wrap around Viktor’s body, allowing himself to sink into the solid warmth. Viktor welcomed him.
“You push pretty hard,” Viktor said.
Yuuri didn’t say anything, but Viktor swore his ears turned a bit red.
“I’m pretty sure you could lift me with that kind of strength,” Viktor continued.
Yuuri’s hand scrunched up the front of Viktor’s shirt.
“Just you wait, Nikiforov,” Yuuri chuckled into his shirt.