It can wait, Yuri says, like waiting is an easy thing to do, like waiting hasn't been what Victor's done for the better part of two days (and eight months, and two years). Like the concept of being here in the car for another forty minutes, unable to reach over to Yuri and wrap him in a hug, or kiss him, or get him to say that again, low and under cover of darkness, centimeters instead of the width of a car away, isn't as torturous as sitting in the airport waiting for the plane to come in had been. "I hate waiting."
They've both waited long enough, haven't they? It makes the distance between here and where they can finally just curl up together to watch the exhibition, where he can finally have Yuri right here, in his arms again, seem just as vast as the distance between Hastetsu and Moscow. He knows it's a selfish, childish reaction, but he's too tired and aches too much for discipline right now. Discipline he doesn't want or even need. He's spent his whole life being disciplined, focused on a single thing, giving everything he has to it: time, body, heart, soul. More time in the rink than out of it. Twenty years of it.
Just for tonight, he doesn't want to have to push himself to be better. He just wants to be Victor.
But wants and wishes won't change the distance that's slowly ticking down as they drive through the night, so he has to settle for looking over at Yuri when he can, each time a new confirmation that he's back and they're back together, and isn't that what's really important. "You should get some rest, if we're going to stay up to watch the exhibition, Yuri. I'll wake you up when we're home."
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Date: 2017-07-30 02:40 pm (UTC)They've both waited long enough, haven't they? It makes the distance between here and where they can finally just curl up together to watch the exhibition, where he can finally have Yuri right here, in his arms again, seem just as vast as the distance between Hastetsu and Moscow. He knows it's a selfish, childish reaction, but he's too tired and aches too much for discipline right now. Discipline he doesn't want or even need. He's spent his whole life being disciplined, focused on a single thing, giving everything he has to it: time, body, heart, soul. More time in the rink than out of it. Twenty years of it.
Just for tonight, he doesn't want to have to push himself to be better. He just wants to be Victor.
But wants and wishes won't change the distance that's slowly ticking down as they drive through the night, so he has to settle for looking over at Yuri when he can, each time a new confirmation that he's back and they're back together, and isn't that what's really important. "You should get some rest, if we're going to stay up to watch the exhibition, Yuri. I'll wake you up when we're home."