He's too busy taking Yuri's hand on his arm as permission and hauling him sidelong and backwards to pay much attention to that apology, but he notes it for further comment once he's finished. For the moment, he's more interested in shifting to get his legs apart, one on either side of Yuri's hips, and dragging Yuri back against his chest and stomach, so Victor can solidly slide both arms around his stomach and curl in, burying his face against Yuri's neck, wrapping around him like an octopus.
It's almost close enough. It's still not close enough. "Why sorry?"
If anyone here should be sorry, it's Victor, and he is. "It was my fault."
Yuri might have told him to go, but he was the one who decided and went. He asked Yakov to take over his skater. He got on the plane. He left Yuri there alone. "I should have stayed with you."
(Even if saying so sparks a pang of negation that reminds him of Maccachin over there, peacefully curled up, maybe already asleep, untroubled by thoughts of guilt or fear or worry.)
On the screen, the ladies' skater finishes up, striking a pose that Victor doesn't see or care about. Not when he's got Yuri here, finally, in his arms, and he can follow that apology the way he wanted to at the airport, shifting from pressing words to pressing kisses against warm skin, arms circled tight around Yuri's middle.
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Date: 2017-08-05 01:36 pm (UTC)He's too busy taking Yuri's hand on his arm as permission and hauling him sidelong and backwards to pay much attention to that apology, but he notes it for further comment once he's finished. For the moment, he's more interested in shifting to get his legs apart, one on either side of Yuri's hips, and dragging Yuri back against his chest and stomach, so Victor can solidly slide both arms around his stomach and curl in, burying his face against Yuri's neck, wrapping around him like an octopus.
It's almost close enough. It's still not close enough. "Why sorry?"
If anyone here should be sorry, it's Victor, and he is. "It was my fault."
Yuri might have told him to go, but he was the one who decided and went. He asked Yakov to take over his skater. He got on the plane. He left Yuri there alone. "I should have stayed with you."
(Even if saying so sparks a pang of negation that reminds him of Maccachin over there, peacefully curled up, maybe already asleep, untroubled by thoughts of guilt or fear or worry.)
On the screen, the ladies' skater finishes up, striking a pose that Victor doesn't see or care about. Not when he's got Yuri here, finally, in his arms, and he can follow that apology the way he wanted to at the airport, shifting from pressing words to pressing kisses against warm skin, arms circled tight around Yuri's middle.