The world crumbled around Yuri where he stood, motionless, deathly white in the middle of the rink. He had failed the competition miserably, and now he was paying for it. In the form of public humiliation, or possibly worse. The crowd around him threw various objects at him while shouting their violent disapproval at his world-renowned failure. He hardly felt the hot sting of his tears as they flooded from his wide, unblinking oceans of brown. Falling to his knees, he felt the ice crack underneath him, and with a final glance up at the man who he looked to for inspiration for eleven years, with a last look at the sneering, gloating face he had thought for a decade to be compassionate, the ice broke with a deafening, piercing shriek, and the frigid water beneath swallowed him whole.

As he sank into the void of the unknown, he watched helplessly the last of his breath escape in large bubbles. These pockets of air gathered before him to replay for his dying stare the jeers of the audience and the grating, ugly laughter of the demon he called Viktor Nikiforov. He saw above him that very same man who, with a satanic grin, slid their eternal bond from his finger and cast it into the water with him. The gleaming gold tarnished and fell to pieces, and as he looked with horror at the one on upon his own hand, he saw it stretch and expand and weigh him down as it encased his entire forearm. Demon Viktor felt no remorse for him, electing instead to walk away, the ice closing above Yuri and leaving him to drown.

…

"Yuri…"

A voice faded in and out of his subconsciousness, sounding so gentle, yet so undeniably worried. What did the voice have to fear? He was dead anyway. Dead and gone. Nobody would have to worry about him anymore. Not that they would in the first place.

But behind the facade of calm he felt there was the unmistakable pang of an emotion he had grown accustomed to feeling but never actually overcame.

It was the sense of fear.

"Yuri!"

He heard the voice shout again at him, distorted through the water he was floating in. He felt the overwhelming urge to swim after the silky smooth sound, so that it might pull him out of the darkness that consumed him.

But what if there was no way out? What if this was all he had left, this void?

"Yuri, please wake up!"

Yuri jolted awake, thrown headfirst back into the real world, gasping and sweating until his shirt was soaked. He couldn't tell where his sweat ended and his tears began as he threw his head to the side and cried into the pillow. Gripping the sheets in tight fists, he braced himself against a danger that wasn't there.

"Yuri, it's okay! You're just having a nightmare!" called a voice from above him. A weight straddled him and two firm hands held his shoulders in place as he thrashed in retaliation to the perceived threat. With his own clammy hands he grabbed the foreign arms and pushed against them, hoping in vain to free himself from the vicelike grip. He felt his throat constrict and a cold darkness sweep over him and drown his senses when he could not break loose, causing him to hyperventilate. He could not form any words through the hot tightness in his throat.

Whoever was holding him down was not giving up, as they then called "Stop! It's me! Viktor!" At the sound of the name, and the smoothness of the voice, Yuri spared a glance up at the person restraining him. A mop of silver hair dangled from a blurry face that held concern and fear in its depths. Blue green eyes stared back at him. He finally registered the face as that of his husband, but when he did his brain screamed panic at him. His tear-streaked cheeks paled and his entire body tensed. His breathing picked back up and he threw himself around, trying to shake Viktor off, but the effort bore no intended results. All it did was make Viktor hold him more firmly to the bed.

"Let...me...go…!" Yuri gasped between panting breaths. "Please...l-let me go!" His pleas went unheard by the other, and quickly devolved into a sort of unholy scream-sobbing that squeezed tears from Viktor's heart. Said tears dripped onto Yuri's face and mingled with his own until they were indistinguishable from each other.

Yuri would not calm down. Viktor judged from the lack of further words-unintelligible as they may have been-and his eyes beginning to glaze over that he was on the verge of passing out altogether. Viktor chewed his lip, desperate to come up with some solution to their problem. That solution came to him, taking the form of his Olympic jacket. He reached over to the bedside where it hung and snatched it off the hook, then hesitated. How was he supposed to get it on Yuri when he was thrashing and resisting?

He had to try. He could not let a minor setback keep him from helping his love. Carefully, he slipped an arm under Yuri's back and lifted him up so they were chest to chest. Wide-eyed and unsure of his safety, Yuri retaliated against the movement and tried to push away. But of course Viktor was not having it, and with deft motions and reassuring shushes and encouragement, he had the coat wrapped securely around him, arms through the sleeves.

The first thing Yuri perceived through his dulled senses was the feel of soft fabric against his skin. Its soothing texture worked to help ground him. Then he heard hushed whispers, a nice change from earlier's shouting. Finally, he was overcome by a strong scent, like the aroma of a strawberry field. He knew that smell. As best he could through his hyperventilating gasps, he breathed in the scent of his husband, and his frazzled mind made the connection.

Oh, it's Viktor's jacket.

"V-V...Vikutoru?" A finger to his lips prevented him from saying any more.

"Yes, Yuri, it's Vitya. Can I turn you over onto me?"

Viktor hardly waited for the permissive nod before he was hugging the smaller man close and flipping them over so he lay on his back and Yuri lay on top of him. At such an intimate gesture, Yuri's heart broke, and the sobs started anew. He buried his face in Viktor's chest, as if he reasoned that he could hide himself from the world that way, and clung to Viktor's shirt like a lifeline. As if he weren't worried to begin with, now in the new position Viktor could feel Yuri's heart beating irregularly against his ribcage and grew doubly concerned.

"Yuri, you need to calm down. Your heart…" He didn't know whether or not Yuri heard him, but he guessed not since there was no acknowledgement or change in state. He nervously bit the inside of his cheek, trying to find some way to help without Yuri fighting him over it. He finally settled on an option and went with it before he could second guess himself. Ever so gently, he guided Yuri's head so his ear lay over his chest, and cupped the other with his hand to block out any distraction. That, or he was trying to silence the voices in the raven's head. Either way he looked at it, it was still a vulnerable scene, Viktor quieting Yuri's anxious crying by allowing himself to be used as a pillow to comfort him, pressing his head to his heart, covering his exposed ear and pressing kisses to his hair, rubbing soothing circles on his back, Yuri's arms securely wrapped around Viktor's midsection, and his hands underneath his back.

"There we go, Yuri. Take some deep breaths for me… Just hear my heartbeat and focus on that… You're doing great, Solnyshko," he soothed, his voice a deep rumble in his chest that crooned in Yuri's ear. Yuri shook his head and his sobs grew louder, now accompanied by a tremble in his lithe frame.

"Viten'ka, please don't leave me!" he bawled, shrinking further into the older male's arms. Viktor stopped his gentle ministrations and froze where he lay.

"What? Yuratchka, why would I ever leave you?" Disbelief was laced thickly in his voice, so much so that anyone would be able to hear it. Yuri sniffled and shook his head.

"I know you want to leave! I just know it! You'll leave me to die first chance you get! But...But I can't live without you, Vitya! Please don't go!" Yuri rambled. Viktor, overwhelmed by the sudden rant, shushed him by pressing Yuri's ear closer to his breast.

"Does this have to do with your dream?"

Yuri shakily nodded, his hitched gasps the only sound he made.

"Oh, Yuri," he whispered, low and steady against the storm of Yuri's anxiety, "whatever happened in your dream was not real. I would never do such a thing to you, you hear me? You're too precious, a treasure to me that I wish to keep safe and secure." Now he himself was on the brink of tears as he spoke and stroked his inky black hair. Yuri pulled the jacket draped across his shoulders closer around him and huddled impossibly closer to the pillar against which he leaned and sought comfort from.

"B-But...But…" Yuri stammered, unable to form proper sentences, "you...you're V-Viktor! A-And I'm Yuri…"

"Yes…?" Viktor stopped to think about what he was trying to say. He had no idea where he was going.

"I'm not...not g-good enough for you. I-I'm just...I'm just Yuri! You could h-have anyone in the world! Why would you pick...me?"

Viktor relaxed. So that's what it was, then.

"What makes you think you're not enough?"

Yuri tensed up as he prepared for what he was going to say. He took a deep breath to stabilize his voice. "You're Viktor Nikiforov, a living legend with the entire world in your hands. I'm Katsuki Yuri, a fat, selfish, anxious failure who could never be loved. I'm not...worth paying attention to. How did you get stuck with me, of all people? Why would you do this to yourself…?" The last part came out as a whisper, but it still pierced Viktor's heart. Yuri couldn't look at Viktor anymore in fear of meeting his wrath. He hid in his husband's breast and hoped the pressure would be enough to dam the flow of tears. He was wrong.

Viktor, his face saddened, hooked his fingers under Yuri's chin and brought his eyes up to meet gazes. Yuri did not resist the caring gesture.

"The only time you were ever selfish was towards Minami that one time, Lyubov. You are the most kind, caring, generous person I have met in my twenty-eight years. I would not want to be stuck with anyone else."

The smaller man nodded and wiped away the last of his tears when Viktor released his chin, now utterly spent. He rested his head back on the other's chest and closed his eyes, sniffing.

"Sorry…"

"For what?" Viktor asked, and his voice rumbled in Yuri's ear.

"That was stupid. I mean, I had a panic attack over a nightmare…"

"Yuri, anything that causes distress is far from stupid. Sometimes you just need a little support. What matters is that you can eventually move on. Besides, if I were the one with nightmares, you would do the same for me."

Yuri didn't respond, but he knew Viktor knew. Because Yuri would do the same for Viktor. It was the least he could do for his doting lover.

"Will you be able to go back to sleep?" whispered Viktor, and Yuri felt hands wrap around his back. He thought for a second, and felt that he probably could.

"I-I think so," he whispered back, "if we can stay like this."

Viktor smiled and kissed the top of his head tenderly, readjusting himself more comfortably.

"Of course."