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"Hey, can we end practice early today?"
The question caught Otabek completely off guard. The Russian skater had been watching him do his routine on the edge of the rink. They always practiced together early in the morning critiquing each other's routines. The blond would usually be giving him praise or criticism every now and then when watching his routine. Today was different. Yuri had been practically mute all morning and now this.
"Why? What's the matter?" he questioned as he glided back over to his friend.
"Nothing. Just tired," he answered, plain and simple. He couldn't put his finger on it, but his voice sounded strange.
"Playing video games all night?" he teased lightly.
Yuri's emerald gaze turned fiery. "Fuck off."
The response would've deterred anyone else, but Otabek knew him better than others. He meant nothing offensive by it. Perhaps he was grumpy from lack of sleep.
"Sorry."
The apology was something he hadn't been expecting. Yuri hardly ever apologized for anything and the action set off alarm bells in his head. He said nothing, making his way to the rink entrance to take off his skates while Yuri followed close behind.
The two sat down to untie their skates on a nearby bench. Otabek kept a close watch on the Russian skater, taking care not to let the blond catch him doing it. Nothing blatantly stood out on Yuri though he noticed little things like how his brow was furrowed and his gaze looked unfocused eventhough he was supposedly concentrating on untying his skates.
"Yura."
He received no response.
"Yuri," he tried once more, not using his nickname in hopes that it would get his attention.
The blond's head snapped up at that. "Huh?"
"You ok?" he asked softly. "You've been untying that same skate for the past minute."
The blond glared at the ground looking irritated, not with Otabek, but with himself. The Kazakhstan skater stood, having untied both his skates already, and knelt down in front of Yuri. Without much warning he began to untie Yuri's skates for him and to his surprise the blond didn't protest. Yuri let Otabek get closer to him than anyone else. The Russian skater was lenient with him about a lot of things, though it was very rare for him to do so without a single word.
Even a "I can do it myself, idiot" would be more common than complete silence. He ventured a peek up at the blond as he worked and now that he was closer he could see his face a little better. Yuri's expression looked pinched as if he was experiencing some kind of discomfort. Something was definitely wrong.
"Yura?"
"Yeah?"
"What's really the matter? You've been acting strange all day." The look of utter shock on the blond's face would've amused him had it been under different circumstances. Had he expected him not to notice? He watched as Yuri's face took on a look of resignation.
"I guess nothing gets past the Hero of Kazakhstan, huh?"
Otabek remained silent, waiting patiently for the Russian skater to tell him what was really wrong.
He hesitated, his eyes looking every where else but at Otabek. "I just have a sore stomach, okay? Can I tell you the details when we get home?"
Now that seemed more plausible. "Alright," he said simply, not pressing for details. "Think you'll be able to make the walk home?"
Yuri fixed him with a glare. "Of course. I'm not a baby."
That sounded more like his Yuri.
The walk to their shared apartment was uneventful but Otabek kept a watchful eye on the Ice Tiger the whole way. His worry seemed to escalate when the Russian made a beeline to the bathroom as soon as they were in the front door. Otabek decided to leave him be for the moment and took the time to drop their duffel bags in the bedroom. He slipped out of his shoes and hung up his coat before knocking on the bathroom door.
"Yura?"
He heard a muffled "shit" come from inside and frowned. He could hear a tone of distress in just that one word.
"Yura, can I come in?"
"No!" There was a bit of shuffling on the other side of the door. "I-I mean, just wait a minute. I, uh... need to take a shower." The words weren't reassuring in the slightest and he was thoroughly convinced that the Russian skater would fight Otabek with whatever argument he could before he let him in.
"I'm coming in," he announced as he barged in, his assumption correct on the fact that Yuri hadn't locked the door in his haste earlier.
From what Otabek could see he'd caught the other in the middle of undressing. Yuri had already kicked off his shoes along with his socks and had slipped out of his pants. The blond was halfway through taking off his boxers. His partial nakedness wasn't what drew Otabek's attention, it was the trickle of blood running down the side of his leg. It clicked instantly for the black-haired male.
Yuri had been staring at him like a deer in the headlights, but his face flushed as a look of mortification dawned on his features. "Get the fuck out!" he snapped and Otabek hesitated in the doorway, worry keeping him rooted in place.
"Are you gonna be okay if I do?" he questioned seriously. He could see the contemplation on Yuri's face at his words. After a moment the blond seemed to sigh quietly signaling to the Kazakhstan skater that he had given up the fight for now. "What do you need me to do?"
"Just... can you get me some, y'know... pads? I don't think we have any," he mumbled, a bright blush coloring his pale features yet again.
Otabek nodded firmly. "Sure. You'll be okay while I'm gone?"
"Yeah..."
He wasn't reassured in the slightest, but disappeared out of the bathroom nonetheless. Since the store was a bit far he took his motorcycle to go shopping for Yuri. He drove a little faster than normal as he remembered how subdued the Russian had sounded before he'd left. The sooner he got the store the sooner he would be able to make sure Yuri was okay.
The trip wasn't as simple as he thought it would be. There were so many different brands of pads. It was almost bewildering, especially for someone who didn't normally shop for pads at all. If he'd known he would've asked what brand Yuri preferred. Instead he settled on what he thought might be the best and moved on to the pharmacy: picking up the obviously needed pain medication as well.
By the time he returned to the apartment he could hear the shower going. He picked up the package of pads prepared to drop them off in the bathroom along with some old briefs of Yuri's that he'd managed to find in the deep confines of his dresser. He had a fleeting thought of whether Yuri had known they were there or not. Any remaining thoughts he had about the matter suddenly dissipated at the retching sound he could hear just behind the bathroom door.
Otabek dropped whatever he had and opened the door to find Yuri hunched over the toilet, body tensing in what he could only assume was pain. He walked over, pulling his boyfriend's damp hair out of his face as the blond expelled what little he had eaten.
"M'stomach hurts," he managed to say after he'd caught his breath. "Really bad..."
Otabek didn't say a word, just hurried in helping him clean up and put on the briefs along with one of the newly bought pads. The sooner Yuri was resting the better. Once Otabek had the Russian seated on the bed and in a clean t-shirt he went to pop open the container of pills.
"Take them," he ordered as he placed two pills in Yuri's hand a bottle of water into the other. "Drink that down to the label." He kept his dark eyes on the Russian, noticing it took him a moment to follow his orders. Once again the blond followed orders without complaint. He must really be feeling bad... Worry tinged his thoughts as he went off to grab a heating pad, knowing from experience that medication never worked fast enough
Otabek plugged it into an outlet near the bed and waited a moment for it to get to a suitable temperature. He settled in behind Yuri on the bed before pressing the heating pad against his friend's stomach. The blond seemed to relax against his chest as he pulled the heating pad closer to him.
"Better?" he questioned as he wrapped his arms around Yuri, effectively pulling him into his lap as he leaned his back against the wall.
"Mmh," Yuri hummed quietly, but said nothing.
"Has this happened before?" he asked suddenly.
A thoughtful silence fell over the two for a minute before Yuri finally answered. "Not for a few years, no..."
"Hm..." Otabek rested his chin on top of Yuri's head. "We'll go visit your doctor when you're feeling better."
Yuri grumbled something that the Kazakh man couldn't hear. A few minutes passed and the tension seemed to be finally leaving the blond's body so he could conclude that the painkillers were finally doing their work.
"Beka..."
"Hm?"
"Can we go back to bed?"
"If you want." He didn't comment that they'd woken up hours ago and that it was still morning.
Otabek stretched out onto the bed while Yuri curled up next to him. He smiled fondly as he watched Russia's Ice Tiger yawn like a docile kitten. The blond male wrapped his arms around Otabek's waist and rested his head against his chest, tangling their legs together as he got comfortable. He ran a gentle hand through his blond locks, which he'd grown out considerably, before pressing a soft kiss to his temple. He watched quietly as Yuri drifted off to sleep, his expression looking peaceful for once.
At some point in the late afternoon Otabek was roused from sleep by a worried phone call from Lilia, whom questioned him about Yuri not showing up for practice. He briefly explained the situation to her and she sent her well wishes to the Russian skater before he hung up. The Kazakh man got up to make some lunch for both himself and, just maybe if he was feeling up to it, Yuri as well.
He was looking through his phone for a recipe for some type of Russian soup when he heard movement in the bedroom and watched with a worried gaze as the blond disappeared into the bathroom again. He listened intently for any signs of distress but the Russian came out a few minutes later and finally spotted him in the kitchen.
"Hey," he greeted simply.
Yuri didn't say a word, just joined him in the kitchen before resting his cheek against Otabek's shoulder.
"How are you feeling, котенок?" he questioned quietly, deciding to use a bit of the Russian he'd picked up on while living in St. Petersburg.
"Don't call me that," he growled quietly though there was hardly any fire behind his retort. He just sounded tired.
"Hungry?"
"Stomach still hurts," he mumbled into his shoulder.
"Thirsty?" he tried again, becoming worried once more.
"Mm, maybe..."
"How does tea sound, then?"
"Fine..."
There was silence once more as he rummaged through the cabinet in front of him to find the coffee mugs and tea bags.
"I feel gross," Yuri said all of a sudden. "I hate feeling gross."
"Mhm," Otabek hummed as stepped away from Yuri for a brief moment to heat up some water. "It's only five days. You can manage. I know you can."
"Beka..."
"Yes?"
"Do you think I'm gross?"
That question took him off guard. Otabek turned towards him before leaning against the counter, giving the Russian a confused look. Yuri was shifting from foot to foot restlessly and he had that look of discomfort on his face once again. He took a moment to answer his question.
"Of course not. What brought this on?"
Yuri flushed and he suddenly looked as though he didn't know what to do with his hands or where to turn his gaze to. "Nothing... I just feel weird..."
"Weird, how?"
"It's just... I haven't had a period in so long. It's... freaking me out a little, okay?"
Otabek's expression softened. "Yura... Come here." The Russian did as he was told and he pulled the shorter young man into a tight hug. He then tilted Yuri's chin up before staring into his emerald-hued eyes. "I'll always love you for who you are no matter what happens. You’ll always be perfect to me and nothing will change that," he said firmly and almost chuckled at the wide-eyed look Yuri gave him. He brushed a strand of hair behind the blond's ear and pressed a brief kiss to his lips. "Now, you should be in bed. I'll bring your tea to you in a few minutes."
Yuri blinked, his green eyes looking shiny for a moment before he turned away abruptly. He muttered something quietly in Russian under his breath and when the Kazakh man heard it a smile dawned on his face.
"What was that, котенок?" he asked eventhough he'd heard it clear as day.
The Russian huffed before walking away towards the bedroom. "Forget it!"
Otabek chuckled as he watched him go. "я тоже тебя люблю, котенок."