Yuuri flails a hand to try and stop the brown blur coming toward him full speed, and attempts to calm himself.
He hears Victor's giggle by his ear as Makkachin's soft fur collides with his fingers.
"Wow! You really can't see without your glasses."
Yuuri shakes his head pitifully, and pats the dog on the head before he bounds off again. "No, I really can't."
He feels Victor's strong hands on his shoulders guiding him to sit down in a chair he assumes is in their kitchen. The blurred colors around him are right for the room; soft yellows, hard whites and the steel metal grays of appliances.
Victor takes the seat beside him, and Yuuri squints harder trying desperately to see him, but he remains a haze of pearly silver from his hair, the soft peach of his skin, and dark blue from his sweater.
A coil of pathetic frustration forms in Yuuri's stomach. He's okay not being able to see his surroundings for three days while his glasses are repaired, but not being able to see Victor as more than an abstract blob really isn't sitting well.
"I hate this." He says quietly.
Part of Victor's blur stretches toward him, and he feels the hand on his thigh. "I know. I wish I hadn't lost your contacts. They would make this much easier."
Yuuri whines and shuts his useless eyes. "It's not your fault. I should've ordered more months ago in case something like this happened."
Yuuri has never broken his glasses before, and he hates contacts so much. Now that he doesn't skate he doesn't even need them, so of course he didn't order any for 'just in case.' It's a stupid mistake he won't make in the future.
"I don't know what I'm going to do, Victor." He mourns the amount of time it took to get dressed this morning. The bedroom floor is probably covered in clothes. He dreads trying to feed himself. "The apartment is going to be a wreck if I have to stumble around it like this."
Victor hums, and the hand on his thigh tightens before releasing and moving to his hand.
"I took the next three days off, Yuuri." Victor says as he twines their fingers together. "There's nothing at the rink Yakov can't take care of."
Yuuri's eyes jolt open, and for the seven-hundredth time this morning, he wishes he could see Victor's face. "Why? You don't have to do that for me."
Victor raises their hands and Yuuri feels his lips over his ring. The gesture is so familiar now that it's clear in his head even if it's not clear in his eyes.
"Yuuri, I promised to be here for you always. In comfort and in need. What do you think that means?"
"Vitya." Yuuri breathes.
"Shh, Yuuri. Until we get your glasses back I'm going to stay home and be your eyes. Besides," Victor pauses to kiss up the back of Yuuri's hand and on to his wrist, "there are things we can do that don't require you to see."
Yuuri's breath shudders. Maybe this won't be so bad after all.
