A few hours into their wedding celebrations Victor was dragging Yuuri away just as his cheeks grew flushed from the few glasses of champagne they’d drunk thanks to all the toasts in their honor.
Viktor wakes to the soft glow of a cellphone in the darkness of their bedroom. Yuuri’s turned it to the lowest setting, of course, to try to avoid waking him, but Viktor’s not a heavy enough sleeper not to notice it. “Go to sleep,” he murmurs against Yuuri’s shoulder, not wanting to look at what he’s reading.
He knows, after all, what it means when Yuuri wakes up like this. Something is on his mind; something is worrying him so much that he can’t find a way to sleep. Asking him what he’s doing has mixed results. Sometimes, it’s as easy as a call to his family he misses or making Makkachin crawl to his side of the bed so he’s locked between them. Sometimes, it’s harder. It’s tears and anxiety of competition or of somehow convincing himself he’s not good enough to be here again. Sometimes, it takes wrapping Yuuri up in his arms and promising he deserves it all.
Tonight, Yuuri turns toward Viktor, pressing his face against his chest. “I love you,” Yuuri whispers instead of mentioning whatever has kept him awake. It’s that simple to relieve them both. Viktor leans forward and kisses him. It’s soft and sleep and as he pulls away, Yuuri lets out a sleepy sigh, pulling Viktor closer to himself.
Sometimes, it’s just remembering that they’re there for each other.
“I love you too,” Viktor whispers, watching the phone screen fade to black as they both drift to sleep.
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