It almost sounds as though Victor's voice is coming from under water. A familiar sounding mumble, but distant and distorted. It doesn't take more than a seconds time in the doorway to Victor's room to note why. Only one second to see why. Only one second to watch the here-and-then-gone pale sliver of Victor's skin evaporate as a dark shirt gets pulled down and his shining silvery hair, and then, head pops out the top.
Yuri thinks somewhere distantly it means something that he doesn't feel like tripping over his feet, holding still for seeing it, or telling himself he's seen it a hundred times. Not doing more than standing in the hallway, shortly outside of the doorway. He doesn't feel any of those, or if he does they aren't making it far enough up for him to touch them yet.
Mostly only that he'd like to lean on the wall. (Or somewhere closer to Victor. Or Victor, himself?)
He is still standing there when Victor looks at him, and he realizes he was maybe supposed to have moved on already. To be following his instructions, especially at the last words, like a reminder of a short window on it all. There's a nod, maybe two, slow and slight, almost like Yuri's only using part of his head for it, and a quiet, "Okay."
It's crazy that he only makes it a few steps beyond the door, walking into his own room, before he doesn't like the fact there are walls between him and seeing Victor -- and he can't really even hear anything from that room in here, currently -- and it shouldn't be like this, should it? While Victor's only two floors away. While Victor's only one wall away. It's his head playing new tricks on him, in his exhaustion and stress, right?
He does what he's supposed to. Skinning himself out of his coat, that he should have left down stairs, and the clothes under it, leaving everything in a pile on his backpack on his bed, that Yuri doesn't look in or the suitcase left by his bed. He rummages in the drawers that have everything else of his he couldn't pack and wouldn't need. Easy enough to find sleep clothes, from folded piles with the look like he never left them, and pull some on.
Thin, but winter-warm, sleep pants. An everyday average blue shirt.
Yuri dug his phone out of the pile on his bed, but left the pile for later, heading out the door and back toward Victor's open doorway as soon as his fingers had curled around it. It's nonchalant, everywhere but in the middle of his chest, when he walks into that room finally. In the middle of his chest is both relief, and something nothing at all like relief.
Just slightly tenser, close, but not close enough. Distantly aware. Of his house, his family, of too much time right behind him.
Of Victor close, but not. At least visible. "Find it?"
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Date: 2017-08-04 12:09 pm (UTC)Yuri thinks somewhere distantly it means something that he doesn't feel like tripping over his feet, holding still for seeing it, or telling himself he's seen it a hundred times. Not doing more than standing in the hallway, shortly outside of the doorway. He doesn't feel any of those, or if he does they aren't making it far enough up for him to touch them yet.
Mostly only that he'd like to lean on the wall.
(Or somewhere closer to Victor. Or Victor, himself?)
He is still standing there when Victor looks at him, and he realizes he was maybe supposed to have moved on already. To be following his instructions, especially at the last words, like a reminder of a short window on it all. There's a nod, maybe two, slow and slight, almost like Yuri's only using part of his head for it, and a quiet, "Okay."
It's crazy that he only makes it a few steps beyond the door, walking into his own room, before he doesn't like the fact there are walls between him and seeing Victor -- and he can't really even hear anything from that room in here, currently -- and it shouldn't be like this, should it? While Victor's only two floors away. While Victor's only one wall away. It's his head playing new tricks on him, in his exhaustion and stress, right?
He does what he's supposed to. Skinning himself out of his coat, that he should have left down stairs, and the clothes under it, leaving everything in a pile on his backpack on his bed, that Yuri doesn't look in or the suitcase left by his bed. He rummages in the drawers that have everything else of his he couldn't pack and wouldn't need. Easy enough to find sleep clothes, from folded piles with the look like he never left them, and pull some on.
Thin, but winter-warm, sleep pants. An everyday average blue shirt.
Yuri dug his phone out of the pile on his bed, but left the pile for later, heading out the door and back toward Victor's open doorway as soon as his fingers had curled around it. It's nonchalant, everywhere but in the middle of his chest, when he walks into that room finally. In the middle of his chest is both relief, and something nothing at all like relief.
Just slightly tenser, close, but not close enough. Distantly aware.
Of his house, his family, of too much time right behind him.
Of Victor close, but not. At least visible. "Find it?"