Yuri is nodding, even before he gets to saying, "A little." At the same time as he's thinking he's always tired.
Except that is an over-embellishment, even in his head, because of how tired he is, and he knows it. Maybe it's more than a little. Maybe it's more than a lot. Maybe it's only been second after Panic and Despair for a day and half, and before that it was just mixed with Panic, for days. For maybe a week. Maybe two now. Maybe it's a little less of an embellishment.
Neither the words or the thought change the fact his reaction has nothing on that. His reaction is caught up in the dominoes of everything Victor just said, because Victor did say that, didn't he? Even if it makes Yuri's heart founder and tense, like it'd dropped into its own tight spin. Makes him want to reach up and grip his hands over Victor's arms around him, because it doesn't make sense that not even half a minute later--
"But." His voice is the edge of a tremble, pressing. "Didn't you just say not to move?"
Maybe it's the phone still in his hand, and the laptop still playing, and that somewhere there's part of piroshki on Victor's bed somewhere, and everything of Yuri's is still on his own bed, needing to be pushed onto the floor next to it. Everything feels disjointed. Started, stopping, hanging, frozen, not yet on to the next stop. Maybe it's all of it, all at once, but he still doesn't really want Victor to let go any more than he already did a minute ago.
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Yuri is nodding, even before he gets to saying, "A little."
At the same time as he's thinking he's always tired.
Except that is an over-embellishment, even in his head, because of how tired he is, and he knows it. Maybe it's more than a little. Maybe it's more than a lot. Maybe it's only been second after Panic and Despair for a day and half, and before that it was just mixed with Panic, for days. For maybe a week. Maybe two now. Maybe it's a little less of an embellishment.
Neither the words or the thought change the fact his reaction has nothing on that. His reaction is caught up in the dominoes of everything Victor just said, because Victor did say that, didn't he? Even if it makes Yuri's heart founder and tense, like it'd dropped into its own tight spin. Makes him want to reach up and grip his hands over Victor's arms around him, because it doesn't make sense that not even half a minute later--
"But." His voice is the edge of a tremble, pressing. "Didn't you just say not to move?"
Maybe it's childish. Maybe it's an excuse. Maybe it's exhaustion. Maybe it's jet lag. Maybe it's competition burn out.
Maybe it's the phone still in his hand, and the laptop still playing, and that somewhere there's part of piroshki on Victor's bed somewhere, and everything of Yuri's is still on his own bed, needing to be pushed onto the floor next to it. Everything feels disjointed. Started, stopping, hanging, frozen, not yet on to the next stop. Maybe it's all of it, all at once, but he still doesn't really want Victor to let go any more than he already did a minute ago.