It's been 37 hours since Yuuri's gotten any sleep.

Before the second round started, he'd been running on pure adrenaline - the thought of the day's activities had kept him alert. But now, his body has finally caught up with his mind, and keeping his eyes open is a challenge on its own.

He's exhausted.

Getting second place is a relief. But it's not sufficient, of course, to just finish the competition. After that is the awards ceremony, and then a bunch of reporters pester him about what he plans to do next. To make things worse, when he finally manages to escape the rink, he realizes that, due to the vast number of people who showed up to the event, the streets are so backed up with traffic that simply driving back to the hotel will take hours.

That means he and Viktor have to walk. For forty minutes. All the way back to the hotel.

That, admittedly, isn't much different from what they do in Japan every day: Viktor rides his bike and Yuuri jogs after him from Yuuri's house to the local ice rink and back. But the air in China is absolutely frigid - Yuuri's almost certain his insides are turning to ice as they walk - and the fact that he's barely able to stay awake while they navigate the city isn't helping.

Viktor's hand is warm in his own, but Yuuri's still shivering, even after Viktor lends him the coat and scarf he's wearing. By the time they reach the hotel, Yuuri can already feel a telltale headache forming in his skull.

He hopes it doesn't mean what he thinks it means. He doesn't have time to be sick right now, not with their trip to Russia coming up so soon.

When they get to the hotel room, Viktor orders food to celebrate, and Yuuri throws himself onto the couch and dozes off while he waits for it to arrive. It feels like only a few seconds have passed when he feels a gentle tap on the shoulder, accompanied by a smooth, familiar voice: "The food's here."

As it turns out, Viktor has ordered dishes from practically every restaurant in the area. Normally, Yuuri would be digging in immediately - food makes up about thirty percent of his priorities in life, after all - but for some reason, he isn't at all hungry, despite not having eaten lunch.

Maybe there is something wrong with him.

He fills up a paper plate with food and takes a few bites, but when he swallows, he feels his stomach churn in revolt. He sniffles, sets down his chopsticks, and turns aside to cough harshly into the crook of his arm.

"You did amazing today, Yuuri," Viktor says. His voice is simple and sincere - normally, a compliment like this would be enough to make Yuuri blush. This time, though, all he can do is muster a weak nod.

"I'd like to give you all the time off you wanted," Viktor begins, "but with the match in Russia coming up…"

"We don't have any time to lose," Yuuri finishes curtly, eyes downcast. "I know."

"Actually, we do have a week left here in China, so we'll get a chance to do some sightseeing. Most of your time will be allotted to practice, though."

He nods again. His head is throbbing, and the overhead lights are suddenly too bright - blinding, even. He feels a wave of disorientation crash over him as he rests his burning forehead onto the palm of his hand.

"Do you not like the food?" Viktor asks, sounding worried. "I can order something from a Japanese restaurant if you want."

"That's not it." His voice comes out harsher than he intends it to. He sniffles, grabs a napkin, and blows his nose into it.

Silence settles between them for a moment. "Then, about today..."

Whether 'today' refers to the quadruple flip or to the kiss, Yuuri doesn't know. But he's well aware that, given his rapidly worsening headache, he'll probably end up uttering something humiliating if he continues this conversation.

So, instead, he clears his throat and says, "Can we not talk about it right now?"

Viktor sounds surprised, but he regains his composure quickly. "Sure."

"I'm tired. I think I'm going to sleep early," Yuuri mutters. It takes far too much effort for him to stand up, and despite the fact that the hotel bedroom is only a few meters away, it's really a miracle that he's actually able to make it there without falling over.

He practically collapses onto the hotel bed - the freshly made sheets are almost unrealistically comfortable, and as he sinks into the soft mattress, it feels as if he's actually floating. But then, through his hazy train of thought, he realizes that sleeping on the bed probably isn't the best idea. If his predictions are accurate and he really is coming down with something, the last thing he wants is to infect Viktor, too. They're both busy, and he doesn't want Viktor to feel as miserable as he does now.

So, even though he's exhausted and cold, he drags himself to the couch and lays down there instead. There are no blankets on the couch, and the surface of it is jagged and rough to the touch, but he assures himself that this is for the best.

A sneeze escapes his shivering frame, and he curls in on himself, wishing to have someone else's warmth beside him. He feels utterly awful right now; he doesn't understand how the illness caught up with him so quickly.

Anyways, this isn't something that a simple night's sleep can't fix, right? Exhausted, he allows his eyes to fall closed and falls fully asleep for the first time in hours.

~x~

Yuuri has been acting strange the whole afternoon.

He's barely touched his food at all, which is a clear indication that something is wrong. Viktor wonders if he's just not accustomed to Chinese food, but it turns out that that's not the case, either.

His behavior is even more concerning than his apparent lack of appetite - his responses to Viktor's questions have all been lukewarm and brief, and it seems like nothing Viktor says is able to elicit a proper reaction.

What could be wrong, though? What could Yuuri possibly be unhappy about besides - besides the kiss?

At first, Viktor had ruled out the possibility. Yuuri hadn't reacted unpleasantly when it happened - he'd seemed happy about it then. But what if - what if he'd only pretended to like it for the camera? To appease the media? What if Viktor really has gone too far?

It seems unlikely. But when Yuuri refuses to talk about the day's events and leaves the dinner table early, it only seems to prove Viktor's theory.

So he is angry, after all...

~x~

When Viktor finally musters the courage to enter the bedroom, he finds Yuuri is sprawled over the couch instead of the hotel bed in the middle of the room. That's peculiar for two reasons - they've slept together for every other night on this trip, and the couch is much smaller and much less comfortable than the bed is.

Upon closer inspection, Viktor finds that Yuuri's face is flushed, his eyebrows creased with stress. "Yuuri," Viktor calls softly, but the boy doesn't wake up.

He frowns. It's clear that Yuuri's distancing himself from him on purpose.

Sighing, Viktor wanders over to the bed and pulls the covers over himself. It's strange to sleep without his arms around Yuuri's smaller body, but maybe that's just because he's been taking too much for granted.

Perhaps Yakov was right, he thinks. Perhaps he is unsuited for this job.

this isn't done; it's a twoshot haha

im so sorry i regret this already