Why was Yuuri sorry? It wasn't as though any of this was his fault. Apparently he was fortunate that his head wound wasn't a lot worse, because from the way Yuuri made it sound, it had been very bad. "It's a concussion," he said, definitive. "It has to be. Yakov puts us through regular concussion testing every year. If you're right, and I'm missing parts of my memory... that would explain a lot," he said, leaning back with a sigh. He felt hopeless, defeated. This was all wrong. Hours ago (at least it felt that way to him) he had been celebrating a triumph and made history; now he didn't know what to think.
He was quiet again for a few moments, then sat up straighter, leaning out of Yuuri's hold. He would have smacked his forehead for not thinking of it sooner if it didn't sting like a bitch. "Our phones. I know I had mine on me. Where are they?"