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Soulmates sucked.
Being soulmates with some kind of athlete sucked even more.
He wasn’t sure if whoever his soulmate was was an actual athlete or some kind of self-taught troublemaker, but either way, they were very active, and often getting themselves hurt.
Yuuri groaned as he rolled over in bed, bruises in his bones from injuries he didn’t remember getting. He knew he hadn’t been the cause of all of them, but he’d have to work through it anyway.
He got up and stretched, reaching for the bottle of ibuprofen that just lived on his bedside table now, dry swallowing one before he’d even found his glasses. It was going to be a long day.
His hair was mussed as he shuffled his way out of his room and headed toward the kitchen to find something to start his day, barely sparing a glance at the starlight russian.
He barely registered the smile and greeting good morning, burying his face in a steaming mug of tea that was pushed into his hands.
The low rumbles of conversations swirled over and around, and he might have taken part as he contemplated his existance in the world, but he had no memory of it even moments after the words left his mouth.
He also failed to notice if he lingered too long leaning against someone when a hand was placed on his shoulder questioningly, unfocused chocolate eyes meeting crystal blue, resting somewhere between blinking too much and not enough.
And if he smiled dumbly when a hand found its way into his hair, no he didn’t.
*****
Viktor was concerned when Yuuri barely spared him a glance when he got up, though the smile he received when he thoughtlessly ran his hand through the sleep-ruffled bird’s nest the younger man called hair made something warm up in his chest. He smiled back, reasurred, and lingered like that when the sleepy man seemed to like it.
He’d started the day much earlier than he’d intended, spending his insomnia on the ice, not even bothering to turn on the lights.
He knew it wasn’t safe to skate like that, that so much could go wrong so fast. That his confidence could get him seriously injured or worse, but he didn’t care. He just needed to skate, needed to dance. He needed to move and feel the ice sink into his bones.
He had some new bruises from failed jumps that he really shouldn’t have been doing, but they were a pleasant dull ache that reminded him why he did this.
He was just working to flatten Yuuri’s hair into a more managable shape when he noticed that the glazed gaze had sharpened and was now looking at him, a faint blush rising in his cheeks. “Uh…. hi?” he greeted softly.
“Good morning, Yuuri,” Viktor chuckled, withdrawing his hand, “How did you sleep?”’
The blush darkened further when Yuuri caught himself leaning after him again, “I… I slept fine,” he cleared his throat awkwardly, downing what was left of his tea to give himself something to do, “How… how was your sleep?”
“I slept well,” Viktor assured, a blatent lie that Yuuri did not need to know about.
“Good. That… That’s good. Sleep is good. I’m glad you slept… good.”
Yuuri was adorable.
And awkward.
And awkwardly adorable.
And Viktor wouldn’t trade a moment of the time he had with him for anything.
Not even some nameless soulmate that may or may not be waiting for him somewhere out there.
He didn’t need a soulmate, he already had all he needed right here, he was sure of it.
*****
Viktor was grinning. He felt like his chest could burst with happiness and he wouldn’t regret a moment.
His nose really, really hurt, and he couldn’t care less.
He sympathised with Yuuri’s poor face for missing that landing so badly that he’d found the wall with it, but he was happy to share that pain.
He could almost hear the crunch as it happened, wincing in phantom pain, before realizing that the pain wasn’t as phantom as he’d thought. He’d felt that crunch.
He could feel Yuuri’s pain.
He’d been feeling it all along and hadn’t realized it.
He’d been living with his soulmate for months and hadn’t even known it.
He hadn’t been looking very hard, he hadn’t cared, he’d just been happy to share what time he could with the younger man, but now?
Now it was different.
Now he knew.
As the dark-haired man finished his routine, smiling with blood on his face, panting and flushed from exertion, Viktor started running.
He wasn’t supposed to, it wasn’t polite and it was a safety hazard, but he didn’t care. He needed to be at that gate when Yuuri got there. Before he got there.
Yuuri was keeping pace, skating quickly to stay beside him, and when they got there, Viktor didn’t stop. He threw himself out onto the ice, one hand cradling the back of Yuuri’s head as they fell, and kissed him right there on tv, letting everyone see just how happy he was. How proud.
The day couldn’t have been much better.