Yuri!!! On Ice Oneshots (Mostly Victuuri and Otayuri)

Things He Noticed.

Yuuri wasn't sleeping.

This was obvious; the dark bags under his hooded eyes left little to the imagination, and his languished movements only grew slower as the days went on. He wasn't only just not sleeping. He wasn't skating well either. Jumps that he rarely failed were missed, step sequences that he specialized in sloppy. Viktor had begun to notice. How could he not? This was his fiancé after all. To not notice would be the greatest crime of the century.

Yuuri came home late almost every day. Directly after practice, off he would scurry without so much as an explanation, and later return nearly completely wiped out. It took 5 seconds, a loving stroke to his cheek, the soft plant of a kiss on his forehead, even just a softness of a lover's hug, and he was out. Viktor would have to go to sleep without his Yuuri cuddles. This was, by all means, torture to the puppy husband who needed to be cuddled.

Yuuri was stressed. This Viktor had deduced as his failed jumps continue to pile. His anxiety attacks, which had begun to become more and more rare, had swarmed back in a storm, a new one ensuing nearly every day. And they became harder to overcome, and no matter how much Viktor tried to help it, it seemed like the more he tried, the less it helped. Before, just his soft voice and soft strokes in the charcoal hair would be enough to calm him down. Now, not even his sister, who was admittedly more experienced in these than he was, could stop the flowing tears with ease over the phone.

Yuuri remained quiet. He and Viktor would usually spend hours upon hours chatting in the apartment after practice, joking about Georgi's new makeup look or Yuri's most recent tantrum, talking about whatever was looming on their minds and comfort each other, or just cuddle and giggle about the most random facts, all of which usually happened under the soft hug of a shared blanket and a cup of tea. This was their time. Viktor's favorite time of all. But Yuuri was never home for those, not anymore. And that time would be spent alone, stroking Makkachin's curled fur, watching a show on TV with a blank stare, or trying (and most of the time failing) to hold the tears of his past in. Yuuri was usually there to help him with these. Now it seemed like he was alone again.

Yuuri wasn't ok. This is what Viktor deduced. No matter how much he tried to coerce the answer out of him however, he refused to let it slip by. Viktor was growing more than upset, but not at his fiancé. At himself. He didn't know what was going on, but his brain convinced him that whatever it was, it was his fault and he should have been able to fix it.

Viktor was starting to get sad. And he was going to get to the bottom of this.

When Yuuri awoke he noticed four things right away.

Number one: just how close Viktor was holding himself to him. The way he clung onto his hooded figure was like a child clinging onto a beloved stuffed animal. Almost as if he were to be taken away from him any second and he wanted to hold on as long as possible.

Number two: It was much too light to be normal. The normal darkness of the room that was what they woke up to was replaced by a gray ambience streaming in through the crack of the curtains, filling the room with a dull gray glow that was consistent with that one a rainy day. This was further proven by the oh so faint sound of a downpour outside.

Number three: It was much too quiet. The usual shrill screech of Viktor's alarm that was their morning greeting was no where to be found, replaced instead by the soft sounds of his husband's breathing. It was a relaxing wake, to say the least, but also concerning.

Number four: By this point he'd forgotten number four.

Trying his hardest not to move too much, he twisted his head and groped his hand around until it landed on his phone to check the time. As soon as his eyes landed on the numbers, his mouth ran dry. Letting out a short squeal, he dropped his phone back down and began to shake the man holding him in a frenzy.