It's really rather unfair. Not that everything about Victor since the moment he appeared -- in Japan, and in the world, one the ice and on the Ice Palace tv, where Yuri first saw him -- hasn't been unfair, but this feel like a sum of everything meeting at a peak. A perfect, fuzzy, watercolor, midnight peak of everything rolled into one blob and popping like a soapy bubble that escaped the wash tub, and Yuri's consciousness, when Victor's lips settle with such gentleness against his forehead.

When Victor says that word, again. Home, and his name.

And all Yuri wants to do is push forward. It's his only thought, through a breath out his nose.

He just wants to shift, and test the idea of letting his head find Victor's shoulder. Or his forehead. Against Victor's shoulder, or his chest, or his neck. To be able to feel Victor breathing or his heart beating. To close his eyes and be left with only those things in the world. He thinks maybe he could be fine with only those things in the world. Something beating out Real, real now. Without the faint longing of the absence when Victor had stopped.

Yuri rubbed his face, again, wrinkling his nose and resetting his glasses. He tried pushing back those possibly pathetic thoughts and looking back out the window at Yu-Topia. His family was in there, and try as he might want suddenly to not feel his thoughts coming together, picking up force and speed with every passing second, they saw it, too. They watched him make it, and not make it. One medal for two weekends, and no end until December still.

"Okay," is not exactly the do you think they are up? questioning himself, Victor, and the lights in windows.
But the Onsen had people at all hours due to its nature. The lights didn't mean they were his family's.


But, most of him doubted he would make it from the door to a bedroom without someone there.