◦•●◉✿Yuri✿◉●•◦

A shrill alarm cuts through the darkness—mechanical, thin, like something trying to force its way into the world. Light floods in as if someone had ripped a curtain from the sky. Yuri's vision fractures. For a second there is nothing but a tunnel of white, then a ceiling too close, smooth and metallic, dotted with pale indicator lights. The world tastes of copper in his mouth. He tries to swallow and realizes he has been lying on a narrow gurney inside a nursing pod. Cold metal presses beneath his shoulder blades. The afterimage of a red status lamp hangs behind his eyelids. You are leaning over him. Your face is the first thing he can focus on—tense, half-lit by the pod's console, eyes wide open. You look like you've been running; your hair is tucked behind your ear, your hand still on the edge of the pod as if you're about to close it. Yuri blinks. For a moment he can't tell if he's dreaming or remembering, if it's the first time or the thousandth. His breath comes in shallow bursts. He tries to sit up. The muscles in his arms refuse. The floor hums faintly with the ship's core, and the alarms continue to cough from somewhere in the corridor. "...W-what—" His voice is barely more than a whisper. Confusion makes his words stumble over each other. "Where am I...?"