It Takes Longer To Note The Absence Of Something.

It takes longer to note the absence of something.

Victor doesn’t miss a thing as he makes tea and helps with breakfast. Nothing is unusual when Yuuri leaves early for the rink, saying goodbye with a kiss that lingers too long given that they’ll only be separated an hour.

After their morning walk, he kneels down to unhook Makkachin’s leash, and only then does it dawn on him that something is missing. There’s no flash of gold when he reaches for her collar. His finger is naked. His ring is gone.

He doesn’t panic, not at first. It’s not as if he never takes it off.

The first spot he has to check is the nightstand on his side of the bed, where he leaves it each night. Maybe he forgot to put it on this morning. When he finds the night stand empty, he drops to the floor, combing through the rug fibers and beneath the bed. He finds lots of dust and dog toys, but no ring.

Next, he tries the kitchen. He’d helped wash up after breakfast, so of course he would take his ring off then, but the counter beside the sink is bare of anything more unusual than spilled tea. No ring.

Victor plants his hands on the counter and drops his head, inhaling deeply. Now that he’s noticed the ring’s absence, his hand feels strange. He’s gotten too used to the constant reassurance of the gold band wrapped around his finger, and he’s running out of places to search. He does take it off, but not often - only when he wants to avoid losing it.

The only place left is the bathroom. He usually takes it off to shower; maybe it’s by the bathroom sink or in a shower caddy.

Makka trails him through the apartment as looks, her claws clicking on the wood floors. She’s too good at sensing his moods. She can tell something is off.

When he flips on the bathroom light, his eyes shoot to the space around the sink. Nothing. No tell-tale glint of gold, just smooth white porcelain. Heart racing now, he throws back the shower curtain. In a rush, he pulls too hard, and the curtain, the rod, everything comes crashing down, landing with a clatter in the empty tub.

Makkachin yelps and flees, scrambling to try to fit herself under his bed like she had as a pup.

Victor stands there, still clutching the curtain tight in one hand. The shelves are bare of anything unusual - just razors, loofahs, and piles of half-used bath products.

What if he did put it next to the sink? What if it went down the drain? His breath catches in his throat, and he drops the shower curtain. It’s just a thing, just a slip of gold, but of course it’s so much more too - a promise, a vow, a symbol of Yuuri’s life, love, and dedication. It’s the twin to Yuuri’s own ring, exchanged on that solemn, chilly night by the cathedral, the cloud of his breath hanging in the air between them. It’s irreplaceable.

Victor can be forgetful - impulsive, even, but he’s not irresponsible. What will Yuuri think when he finds out? Victor can picture it - his mouth forming reassurances even as his eyes drop, wondering deep within if this means something.

The joint in the sink’s piping catches Victor’s eye. He doesn’t know anything about plumbing, but maybe there’s still a chance. He rushes from the bathroom, searching for his phone to call the building’s handyman.

By the time Victor slinks into the rink, he’s over an hour late, and his stomach is churning. There’s a small pile of worried texts from Yuuri on his phone, and if he reads them, he’ll break. This sort of bad news should be given in person. Yakov’s eyes snap to the door when he enters, and his coach’s shoulders tighten, preparing for a lecture, but the yelling never comes.

Yakov knows him well enough to tell something’s wrong, and Victor looks a mess right now - clothes thrown together, red-eyed, and nauseous from digging through wet black clogs of his own hair for an hour as the plumber pulled apart every pipe in his apartment. He’s going to be going home to quite a mess, and all with nothing to show for it.

Yuuri’s across the ice, talking with Mila, but he stops once he spots Victor, pushing off to race across the rink. “Are you okay?” he gasps as soon as he reaches Victor’s side. “What happened?”

Now he’s here, Victor isn’t sure what to say. His hands find Yuuri’s on the boards, lacing their fingers together. Tears press hot against the backs of his eyes as he feels the smooth slide of metal against his own bare finger. “I’m sorry,” he says, trying to keep his voice from cracking. “I looked everywhere, but I can’t find my ring. I think I’ve lost it.”

Victor prepared himself for a lot of reactions, imaging each one as he plodded through the snow to get here, but he didn’t expect the sweet sound of breathy laughter. “Oh, Victor,” Yuuri says, squeezing his hand tighter. “It’s in the pocket of my jacket.”

When Victor can only stare at him, blinking in shock, Yuuri laughs again and reclaims his hand to cover his face. “I found it on the floor when I made the bed this morning and picked it up to give it to you. But then I forgot.” Yuuri shakes his head and runs his finger across the faint line where Victor’s ring normally sits. “I didn’t know you’d be so worried.”

“Of course I am,” Victor says. He lifts Yuuri’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss into the little gold band. “It’s the second most important thing in the world to me, from the most important person.”

Yuuri leans over, wrapping Victor in a tight hug. “Don’t worry,” he murmurs into his fiance’s neck. “You’re never going to lose me.”