It all feels a little surreal. In the right way, but surreal, too. Victor in his casual clothes, sitting on his bed, with the laptop in front of him. The huff from Maccachin settling on the floor somewhere nearby. (Though Yuri does drag his gaze from the bed and Victor on it, just yet, to see where that is precisely.)
Victor had patted the bed, calling him over, and for a second it seemed so familiar. A second of place. Out of time. Repeated dozens of times in the last most of a year. Before they ever left for China, and a week and half away for the first time vever. This was normal. This was what normal looked like. This was what normal had looked like -- before they left, before things had happened, before things had been said. Done.
Before Yuri'd ever felt the need to look toward the door, to find himself plagued by the sudden and, also, the too sharply surreal thought of his parents or his sister walking in to get something, anything, from the storage room, as he sat down on Victor's bed. Near Victor. It's not as if the sofas aren't optionable, so much as that they haven't been used in months. Not like this.
Even if he looks, Yuri doesn't want to be away. Across a room. Concerned. Suddenly. About that. Here. Even as it sinks fingers into a side of his head, Yuri scoots close enough their thighs just aren't quite touching, letting his hands rest on the blanket as he squints on the screen and an unfamiliar girl currently skating.
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Date: 2017-08-05 01:15 pm (UTC)Victor had patted the bed, calling him over, and for a second it seemed so familiar. A second of place. Out of time. Repeated dozens of times in the last most of a year. Before they ever left for China, and a week and half away for the first time vever. This was normal. This was what normal looked like. This was what normal had looked like -- before they left, before things had happened, before things had been said. Done.
Before Yuri'd ever felt the need to look toward the door, to find himself plagued by the sudden and, also, the too sharply surreal thought of his parents or his sister walking in to get something, anything, from the storage room, as he sat down on Victor's bed. Near Victor. It's not as if the sofas aren't optionable, so much as that they haven't been used in months. Not like this.
Even if he looks, Yuri doesn't want to be away. Across a room. Concerned. Suddenly. About that. Here. Even as it sinks fingers into a side of his head, Yuri scoots close enough their thighs just aren't quite touching, letting his hands rest on the blanket as he squints on the screen and an unfamiliar girl currently skating.