Being absentminded while exhausted is one of the many traits Sara and her brother share. Forgotten keys, forgotten smartphones on the table, forgetting to lock windows and car doors.

It's not exactly smart, but nothing has ever happened as a result.

(Maybe that's why this time it does.)



Her nose wrinkles sleepily when Sara hears the doorknob rattle open.

Slips of burnished light trickle in, washing over the mattress and over Sara's exposed feet poking out of the coverlet.

Her twin sometimes wanders into her room, either for a late night conversation, or to whine about snuggling up next to her. She shouldn't indulge him, especially after Sara told him outright about wanting them to be more separate — but he's adorable and her brother and she loves him.

With her eyes shut, Sara pulls aside her blanket, expecting Michele's familiar, heavy weight to drop down beside her. For his muscular arms to wind comfortably around her. He's so silly, thinking he needs to protect her like some kind of out-of-time, heroic knight. There's continuous, stretching silence, minus the footsteps. Sara's impatience rises. It's not exactly warm and cozy in the hotel room for her, with only a thin, lilac camisole and pajama shorts on.

"… Mickey?" she mumbles out. "If rr'drunk, you need… to sleep it off, okay?"

The desk chair across the room suddenly creaks and Sara's eyes peek open.


There's still no answer, just the surrounding, engulfing darkness and someone else's breathing. If it's Mickey… he would have answered, wouldn't he? A flare of panic quickens through Sara's chest. She hauls herself upright, scooting off the mattress and flipping on a nearby lamp.

The bright, flooding light makes her wince at first. Once she's recovered, Sara gapes.

"… … Yuuri?"

Of all people, she's not expecting him. Yuuri has his JAPAN windbreaker still on and his elastic, dark pants, but he doesn't even look like he knows where he is. Disorientated?

That's an understatement. His features seem ghostly pale, Yuuri's hands tremoring and hanging lifelessly at his sides while he's sitting in hotel chair. His wide, brown eyes unfocused and looking ahead. Even when she kneels down, daring to touch his knee. No response to it.

"Yuuri?" Sara asks, raising her voice, staring up frightened at him. "Yuuri, are you okay?"

It's getting more obvious by the second he's not. Yuuri's throat looks like it's repeatedly spasming, as well as his facial muscles. What the hell is going on?

Sara's fingers tighten their grip on the top of Yuuri's knee.

No, no — shit — now's not the time to freak out…

"Yuuri, I'm going to call for help," she explains, shifting her weight and reaching for the cordless hotel phone, turning away from him to concentrate on snatching it up. He doesn't move an inch, except his diagram rising and falling noticeably faster. "I'm right here, okay?"

Sara tucks the object against her shoulder and ear, having already dialed.

"This is the front desk — how may I assist you this evening?"

"Yeah, I need an ambulance." Sara's breathing shudders, her concern peaking. "My friend is really sick. I think? I—I can't get him to respond to me, and he's cold but he's sweating…"

"Is this emergency, ma'am?" The voice on the other end goes from bored to mildly suspicious.

Sara's concern bursts out of existence, replacing with icy, sharp anger.

"If it wasn't—I wouldn't be asking for an AMBULANCE, would I?"

Her tone registers. The front desk answers with: "Yes, ma'am. We are contacting the authorities."

"Thanks." Sara nearly spits out the word, hanging up and dialing immediately for the next person flashing through her mind. On the third, noisy ring, she swallows down the urge to curse aloud. She can't leave the hotel room, not while Yuuri is like this. Not when—

Mila yawns, murmuring with faint amusement, "What's going on? Did you get locked out?"

The relief slamming into Sara feels staggering, nearly dizzying. "I need you to get in contact with Viktor Nikiforov," Sara orders curtly. "Tell him Yuuri is with me and something's wrong with him. Tell him my room number. He needs to get here right now."

"Y-yeah… I'll tell Coach Yakov." There's sounds of rummaging on the other end, and a beep! to indicate that Sara's on speakerphone. Her girlfriend is probably dressing in a hurry. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Sara lies, gazing over Yuuri's vacant, whitened face. "Just do it, Mila, please."

"Don't worry. I'm heading over, too."

"No, no, I'll find you," she insists, pushing up firmly to a stand. "Meet me downstairs in the lobby."

Sara's legs feel so, so weak and shaky, taking on her own weight. Not being able to remain still, she looks out anxiously to the hallway, pressing a fingernail to her lips and nibbling on it. Why is everyone taking so long? Should she call downstairs again?

What if they didn't call for an ambulance and thought it was all a dumb prank?

Glancing over her shoulder, Sara checks on Yuuri once again.

This time, he's hunching forward slightly, Yuuri's hands sluggishly cupping towards to his cheeks and nose.

"Yuuri…?" Sara calls out, stepping forward. He looks confused like before, but Yuuri's eyes are less widened than before. Slowly blinking more. His mouth beginning to slack open. Warm and clear drool appears, dribbling out of the corners of Yuuri's lips.

Oh, god.

"Yuuri!" There's noise like someone running in her direction — and oh god, thank you — Viktor dashes through the entrance-way. His silvery hair dripping wet. His pristine, ivory shirt only partially buttoned and dampening, as if he threw it on while racing out of the shower.

"Where is he—?"

Sara points to behind her when they meet eyes, her eyebrows furrowing together. Viktor halts, his shock visible on his expression.

"Oh my god," he breathes out.

"I've tried talking to him… he's not saying anything."

"How did he get here? What happened to him?" Viktor snaps, remembering to move and kneeling back where Sara had been originally, grasping onto Yuuri's legs.

Sara shakes her head, that feeling of panic increasing. "I-I don't know! I left my door unlocked, and… he just walked in!"

"Did you call for help?" When she doesn't answer, Viktor repeats, glaring and frowning, "Did you—"

"Yes! I did!" Sara yelling out, tempted to stomp her foot. "Will you stop shouting at me already?"

A long, aggravated exhale, but it seems to deflate most of Viktor's stronger emotions.

"I'm sorry, I'm… Yuuri, can you hear me?" He tries speaking to him again, cradling the sides of Yuuri's face with the utmost tenderness. Viktor attempts to level their gazes. "Look at me… darling, I'm right here," he whispers, Viktor's thumb wiping off a corner of Yuuri's mouth.

Sara's ears pick up the affectionate term, but she says nothing.

She doesn't want to.

Nothing about this is okay — how Yuuri's eyes dart around, as if convulsing, and to be honest, she can smell liquor on him. But she doesn't know any type of liquor that does this.

When the paramedics show, one of them herds her out and asks her questions. Sara can't remember how she replies, or how she does without breaking down sobbing. Especially when they carry Yuuri out on the stretcher, and there's a oxygen mask strapped to his face, and he looks worse. So much worse.

"You did the right thing." Two or three hotel guests peek out of their suites, eyeing her in morbid curiosity. Sara avoids looking back, her head bowing. "Your friend is in good hands, don't worry."


She called Yuuri her friend on the phone, to the hotel advisor at the front desk. She knows Yuuri, but she doesn't know Yuuri. Why did he come to her room?

Why… why like this…?

In the lobby, Mila discovers Sara quivering by an archway, clutching the hotel phone to her breasts, as if for dear life.

She whimpers, those hot, glistening tears streaking down her face, when her girlfriend pries her fingers loose. "I'm right here," Mila tells her gently, folding her arms around Sara when the other woman trembles harder, her whimpers fading into muffled, choked-up sobs.



Hospitals don't make her feel uneasy, but for once, Sara is dreading a visit.

Mila and her brother want to come with her. She appreciates it, but… this is between her and Yuuri.

The taxi ride is inexpensive and the nurses prove useful, directing Sara to the floor. She glimpses inside, quietly admiring the view. Multitudes of deep red roses, neatly wrapped in bouquets and vases, everywhere. They bring a little life to an otherwise dreary and colorless hospital room. Sara expects it must be Viktor's doing, seeing as he's currently hovering at Yuuri's side.

They talk softly to each other; Viktor must have not changed his clothes. They're wrinkled. Yuuri's fingers in his right hand intertwine with Viktor's, his knuckles lifting to Viktor's mouth.

It's not as if they've made a habit of hiding their relationship, from the media, from everyone within a good distance — whatever they're defining it as.

"Sara?" Yuuri mumbles out.

She eeps, flushing, her violet eyes going round. Sara did not mean to space out like that and get caught in the process. The woman approaches them.

"Hi, Yuuri…"

Viktor aims a small, pleasant smile towards her. "I'm going to get some coffee," he announces, letting go of Yuuri's hand — not without another tiny kiss. "Sara?"

She nods.

"Black, please."

Once it's both of them alone, Sara grins broadly, presenting out her arms. "I brought you this. And, oh, this too," she adds, showing him the two gifts.

"Is that a coloring book?" Yuuri asks with polite amusement.

"And colored pencils," Sara informs him cheerfully, placing them down beside him. "You are never too old for a coloring book, Yuuri. Whoever decided that was a liar."

Yuuri smiles but it's apologetic.

"I must have scared you…"

His skin is rosier than before, the pale quality gone. His brown eyes alert and brighter this time. Sara nods again, going solemn. "They told me what happened with the antidepressants," she whispers.

Yuuri glances down at his lap, frustrated. "I shouldn't have drank so much… I didn't mean to do that to anyone."

One thing still bothers her… …

"Why did you come to my room?"

At Sara's pointed but inquisitive look, he shrugs.

"I, um…" Yuuri blows air musingly through his lips, sighing. "I don't remember anything. I wish I could… As bad as it sounds, I'm glad you were the one who found me. They told me if you hadn't gotten the ambulance in time—"

She interrupts, her pretty, pink lips curling up into a smile, "—As long as you never scare me or anyone like that again, you can consider us even."

Yuuri laughs, and that's what she needed to see from him.

It's probably not the best position for a hug while lying in a hospital bed, but… Sara doesn't miss an opportunity to hug a friend. And he accepts it wordlessly, setting his chin onto her shoulder when the embrace softens.



Yuri on Ice isn't mine. I JUST WANTED SOME HAPPY FEELS. I'm really attached to both Sara and Yuuri, but in the platonic and caring friendship way. And like, Sara is really important to me as a character. Almost as much as Yuuri. I constantly am defending female characters from fandom misogyny, even in this fandom, so this is my way of expressing my love for her. The FILL PARTY is still going on for Yuri On Ice Kink Meme and I used "Sara & Yuuri - Sara rescues Yuuri." Any thoughts/comments would mean a lot and IF YOU LOVE SARA, WAVE AT ME! I NEED MORE PPL TO TALK TO ABOUT SARA! (But also Viktuuri!)