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There is nothing worse, Victor thinks as he shakes the already wheezing bottle of conditioner, than being empty.
The life you lead, the work you do, the time you spend simply... existing. Not living, because life is where you breathe and your heart beats inconsistently – sometimes slow, sometimes fast, sometimes even when it stops; living is vibrant, like skating. Existing is... Victor looks at the empty bottle in his hand, an unhappy curl to his mouth. It's exhausting, he decides.
But what is even more exhausting is taking care of your hair properly when the world just seems to be out to run you dry. Huffing through the stream of water running down his face, he rinses what measly remains of product he has somehow managed to put in his hair and then turns off the water with a heavy sigh. Before the mirror, he waits for the surface to clear, and then assesses the damage.
"Well, that's great," he says to his own reflection, which looks just as jolly as he feels.
He doesn't bother blow-drying: it can't get any worse than it already is. He drapes a towel over his head instead, hiding the mess from view at least for a short while. He steps into the bedroom in a dire need of cuddles to finally start the day right, but the universe is once again dogging at his heels.
The bed is empty.
The covers are haphazardly bunched up in the middle and they look as sad and abandoned as Victor feels. To think that Yuuri, who loves sleeping in so much, would leave him all alone... save for a fluffy tail that peeks out from underneath the sheets.
Victor doesn't bother fighting his grin. At least one of his boys has not forsaken him in these trying times.
He jumps onto the bed, gathering the shape hiding there into his arms at the very same time as Makkachin starts squirming in surprise. Victor laughs quietly and lets him free his head. Makka's tongue is lolled out when they finally look each other in the eye and Victor's grin widens.
"Hello there, sleeping beauty," he croons, heart filled with years of affection that's still vibrant and unchangeable.
Makka's tail thumps on the mattress as if he's saying hello right back at him. The dog stretches, from the paws to the tip of his tail, and he's so long and shameless that he almost pushes Victor off the bed. Victor chuckles as he shifts to let Makka have more space, like he has always spoiled him before and will continue to, forever. They lie together for a moment in amicable silence, Victor's hand stroking the soft curls of Makka's belly that rises and falls with the power of his breaths.
The towel that's wrapped around Victor's head comes loose at some point and it unravels slowly, until it only hangs in place by the memory of its shape. It will fall off soon and Victor's curly hair will slip from their confines, but Victor resolutely decides to ignore it till that happens. He doesn't feel like dealing with it more than he already has, at least for now.
Instead of wallowing in self pity any longer Victor turns his face to nuzzle Makkachin behind the ears and ask if he wants breakfast yet, but his eyes catch on the glasses that still sit on the nightstand. Yuuri must have forgotten to put them on when he got up, but... his loss is Victor's gain.
He grins, placing the glasses atop Makkachin's head.
"Oh, Yuuri, how much you've changed!" Victor gasps in pretend shock. "You're all furry and cuddly! How did that happen, my love? You poor thing! Turned into a beast!"
Makkachin's jaws open and he pants his morning breath at Victor. Victor's nose wrinkles when the smell hits him, but then he laughs, because, really? They are both such silly geese. Even if one is a dog and another a human.
"Don't worry, my Yuuri," Victor assures, all serious. His lips twitch with the laughter he tries, and fails, to withhold. "I will still marry you, even if you're a furry monster... or if your breath smells like dog food."
At the mention of food Makka's ears stand up and Victor snorts. Of course, that would be the way to his first love's heart. He boops Makka's nose softly with a finger and chuckles to himself when Makka's whiskers twitch.
"Oh, I know!" Victor realizes suddenly. "We need a true love's kiss to turn you back! Don't we, my sweet little cupcake? Do we? Yes, we do!"
Makkachin tilts his head like he's confused, but Victor's voice makes him just as excited even if he understands nothing of what his ridiculous owner says. Victor takes his face in his hands and rubs his thumbs over fluffy cheeks, which makes Makka's eyes close in pleasure. The fluffy tail is moving, back and forth, back and forth, and Victor smiles, a small, private smile that's tender and loving, and all for his precious Makka. He kisses the smooth patch of fur right above Makka's nose and Makka licks at his chin as if he wants to return the affection.
Victor chuckles and scratches Makka's cheeks some more, humming the wedding march to himself on a whim. It's silly of him, he knows, but somehow the thought of the wedding, his and Yuuri's wedding, has crawled into his head and doesn't want to leave. Not that he wants it to.
He imagines Yuuri in a beautiful suit, fitted to his body like a glove, and matching with Victor's own. He imagines another set of rings, another set of vows, the sweet kiss at the end of the ceremony...
"What... are you doing?"
Victor's so deep in the land of daydreams that he doesn't notice the moment when Yuuri comes into the room. He doesn't notice him watching them with a fond smile, either. What he does notice, however, is the amusement crinkling Yuuri's eyes while he squints at Makka and then at Victor.
"Marrying the love of my life, of course," Victor answers, smiling wide – wider than before because now Yuuri is here. Finally.
"Ah," Yuuri says as if that has explained everything.
And it did, Victor realizes when Yuuri sits on the bed next to them. It does.
"Is that supposed to be me or Makka?" Yuuri asks, nodding at his glasses that still crown Makka's head.
Victor hums in thought, before he grins and says: "Both."
Yuuri laughs, a soft, gentle sound that warms Victor's heart and cheeks altogether. He looks back to Makkachin to distract himself from the beautiful sight that Yuuri makes as he glows with affection in the morning light.
"What do you say, Makka?" Victor asks, stroking one of Makkachin's ears. "Think you can share?"
There's a tail wag and a loving pant of smelly breath, and Makka stretches forward across the bed to lick at Victor's face. Victor giggles at the same time as Yuuri huffs a small laugh. Victor rolls onto his back to save himself from dog kisses, but he doesn't seem to realize that something even more devastating is waiting for him there – Yuuri, who lies himself next to them, takes Makka's place and leaves his own kisses all over Victor's face as if he's trying to kill him.
It's not a competition, Victor wants to tell them, but when Makka licks at the sensitive spot on his neck, which is the only place he can reach, and Yuuri continues to press his lips across Victor's grinning cheeks, all that Victor can do is give into helpless giggles. It's difficult to breathe after a while, but Yuuri's breathy laughter and Makka's cold nose play an irresistible harmony of joy and acceptance on Victor's skin and he just can't help it.
So he laughs, and laughs, and laughs, until he can't laugh anymore because his lungs are full and his heart is swollen: with happiness, with love, with warmth.
"Enough," Victor finally wheezes. He pushes weakly at Yuuri's shoulder, but it's a faux gesture – he never wants him to move if he can help it, but the necessity to breathe is a little stronger in the moment than the love that fills him to bursting. "Enough, please!"
Makkachin boofs and Yuuri laughs. He shifts back, but the warmth of his body lingers and seeps into Victor's limbs with ease. It's comforting, safe, and Victor relishes in it.
"Really?" Yuuri asks.
His eyes look into Victor's with unbridled fondness, but his lips curl up in a teasing smile all at the same time. It's an expression that Victor both loves and fears: loves, as he loves all the sides to his Yuuri and the affection he sees mirrored back at himself feels like everything he's suffered through has been worth it for just this one glance; and fears it, because it pushes his heart into unhealthy pace that makes his blood ring in his ears.
Just like it does now.
"Didn't you say just yesterday that you'd never have enough of kissing me?" Yuuri's eyebrow lifts, and Victor needs to forcibly stop himself from arching up to kiss it. "Or did I hear you wrong?"
"Yuuri," Victor whines.
He's rendered speechless beyond that, but that seems to be enough anyway. Yuuri chuckles at his predicament, the cruel man he is, and ducks his head into Victor's neck to hide his own rising blush, thus depriving Victor of his second most beloved sight: Yuuri's flushed cheeks. Instead of indulging him like Victor so wants him to, Yuuri presses his lips here and there on his neck, and it tickles, but Victor is more than happy to suffer through this touch of sweet, torturous pleasure.
There is nothing worse than being empty, Victor thinks while his cheeks hurt from smiling and his face and neck are flushed beyond simple joy. But there is nothing better than this, he agrees with his heart, just as Yuuri shifts up to press another kiss onto Victor's cheek. And nose. And the space between his eyebrows.
Victor turns his head to catch Yuuri's lips and Yuuri smiles into the kiss.
This is it, Victor knows. His heart beats fast, but even, and he knows what he didn't know a year ago. He knows what he didn't know he didn't know. He knows, now.
This is what living feels like.