serendipity + viktuuri drabbles

flatline

cold.

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viktor felt himself jump with every beep of the heart monitor. would that one be the last one? how about the next? would the one a few minutes from now be the one that doesn't go quickly? will it be the one that echoes in viktor's mind forever?

his hand clenches around yuuri's. their rings that had once glimmered every time they caught the light now seemed rather dull to viktor's eye. was it the fluorescent lights above making their shine shy away or was it the sickness hanging in the air?

viktor felt his face grow hot with every breath due to the mask on his face and his irritation grew at the lack of warmth in the intensive care room, only intensified by the gown he had to wear. the doctors were strict and viktor sadly wondered why. this was it, was it not? did it matter?

he's sure he'll never forget that long note. the green line on the monitor that had been creating a mountain range now drew a plain. yuuri's hand might've felt cold before but now it seemed frigid.

his eyes widened and he found himself taking deep breaths just to keep himself from screaming. he wanted to get out of here — his instincts were shrieking at him to get out. get out of this high-stress situation and burrow himself into his home and never come out.

but he found himself glued to the chair next to yuuri's bedside and unable to move. he didn't register the doctors rushing into the room and didn't seem to notice when he was yanked from his seated position and shoved into the hall. he looked one last time at yuuri's face, but it wasn't peaceful because he looked sad.

he'll never forget the way the apartment felt upon his return. the apartment had begun lonely, filled with nothing but a lonely man and his dog and his problems and alcohol and misery.

when yuuri danced into his life drunkenly, that loneliness was swapped for happiness. the apartment was filled to the brim with laughs and kisses and happiness and memories.

viktor looked around, scanning the rooms. they were the same as when they had left for the hospital for the last time — as if yuuri was just out and coming back home.

he looked down at makkachin who's pitter pattering steps were slow and sluggish instead of excited and bouncy. the dog wasn't dumb, he knew yuuri wasn't coming back today. ever.

viktor sank onto the couch and makkachin jumped up with him. he scratched the dog behind the ears, his sobs coming as quickly as a rainstorm. he cried and wailed and he wondered if maybe the neighbors were concerned, what with all of his sorrowful grieving.

after a few hours, he whispered to makkachin. "back to square one," he said, regarding the empty apartment.

he couldn't bring himself to look into their bedroom that night.

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uhh this is sad and i'm sorry omg but i'm pretty proud although it's short :o

should i continue this??