EPISODE 9 HAS ME SHOOK AND THIS IS THE ONLY WAY I CAN PROCESS MY EMOTIONS.

PLEASE ENJOY MY SOMEWHAT COHERENT RAMBLING.

I have a lot I want to tell you, Victor.

I placed third.

I'm going to the Grand Prix Final.

I think Yurio and I are friends now.

Yuuri adjusts the mask over his nose and mouth as he steps through the doors of the airport. He's home now, and the warm sense of familiarity washes over him. The plane ride was tiring, but the surge of anticipation keeps him moving.

As he finds his way to the crowded terminal, Yuuri hears a bark. He turns, and there is Makkachin on his hind legs, his paws pressed up against the thin glass wall that divides them. Yuuri gasps behind the mask and then allows his gaze to travel up, landing squarely on Victor.

His heart clenches in a mixture of relief and excitement, and the moment their eyes lock, they both start to run.

Yuuri pulls his mask down from his face, but he never looks away. The hallway seems to go on forever, but when Yuuri finally reaches the entrance, the automatic doors glide open.

Victor is already there, Makkachin at his heel. His clothes are wrinkled and his silvery hair disheveled, but, God, he looks perfect. Without a word, Victor holds his arms out wide, ready and waiting. Yuuri's knees tremble and he barrels into him, throwing his arms around Victor's middle, fingers gripping the woolen material of his trench coat. It's been less than forty-eight hours since they goodbye in the hotel lobby in Russia, but it feels closer to a thousand years. Yuuri clings to Victor even tighter, inhaling the spicy aroma of his sandalwood cologne and sweet lavender aftershave. Even the distinct, musty smell of Makkachin's fur that is imbued within the fibers of Victor's jacket.

The terminal is packed, and people are watching, but Yuuri doesn't care. In this moment, everyone else disappears, and it's just them two.

"Yuuri..." Victor's words are hushed, meant only for his ears. "I've been thinking about what I can do as your coach from now on."

"Me too." Swallowing his nerve, Yuuri pushes himself back so he can get a good look at Victor's face, bracing himself on Victor's forearms. He's had a nine hour flight to think about this. Being apart from Victor for even one minute is something he hopes he never has to go through again. He wants Victor by his side from this moment on, always and forever.

"Please be my coach until I retire." Yuuri swears he hears his voice break. Please be mine.

Victor is silent for a moment, but then he smiles, his expression soft and fond. He gently grasps Yuuri's wrists and brings his left hand up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

"It's almost like a marriage proposal," he says with the slightest hint of a chuckle.

Yuuri feels a heat rise in his cheeks, and he smiles before Victor pulls him in for another hug.

"I wish you'd never retire," Victor whispers.

Taken by surprise, Yuuri's vision blurs with tears, and he hides his face in Victor's shoulder. A weight is lifted from his chest and he can breathe. Victor feels the same way, and he no longer has to worry about being alone ever again.

"Let's win gold together at the Grand Prix Final," Yuuri says. Together. You and me. Two halves of a whole.

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