There's something as patiently amused as it is patiently suspect about Yuri's expression when Victor gets done with his decision about not spending a day or two extra. Unless it was St. Petersburg, apparently. But all with sensible reasons. Reasons he had already thought of himself, even as he said it. But it's the way he comes back around to the Red Square that had evoked the question.

When it is with all that patient back and forth, of amusement, of suspectness, that Yuri reminds him, "We skate together every day."

Or close enough. It wasn't every single day, not with travel and competing now, and even before Victor still insisted on rest days, which had both at different points probably saved Yuri from skating himself into a wall or frustrated himself beyond belief, but not respect or obedience, to have to stop.

Not that Victor ever kept him from the Ice Castle, the nights he'd still ended up there. Never told him to stop.
Which is beside the point, even when the patient fondness of the reminder is what Yuri is left with.
Like somehow Victor's forgotten that point. That truth. That they do. All the time.

This thing Yuri could not forget, would not forget, even for a perfect dinner or a gold medal.

That he'd dreamed of getting to stand on the ice with Victor for his whole life,
And now, in the strangest twist of his life, he got that every day.

Unforgettable, etched in, for him at least.