He'd meant to give Yuri more space, more leeway, to keep him from feeling trapped, but no sooner do his arms loosen than Yuri's twisting further, a leg going over Victor's and his other arm going around Victor's neck, cheek pressing into Victor's hair as worried words fall out. Saying I missed you, and had Yuri said that, before, without saying it in Russian? He'd found those words somehow, picked them for the same reason Victor would have.
Sometimes it feels like everything they say to each other has too many levels of meanings, all the way down, like shells glittering underwater. Easy to see, hard to grasp.
It's a balm to hear it now, anyway. Even if it was only a few days, even if they should be able to handle being apart that long, even if it's selfish. Even if he's still questioning his decision to leave at all.
(Over by the couch, Maccachin shifts and snuffles, and he's not sure it was the wrong decision, either.)
Maybe before Shanghai, he could have handled this better, before he knew that holding Yuri and kissing Yuri and having Yuri fall asleep next to him was an option, something he could actually ask for and have. Before Shanghai, this was all just him, because Yuri had changed his mind.
All he knows now is that he's not sure he could take it again. "I'm glad you're back."
Finally lifting his face from Yuri's neck and shoulder, to look up at him with a smile. Yuri's cheeks are pink and he looks uncertain but determined, one of his cutest and most irresistible expressions. How, exactly, has Victor managed to keep from tackling him in all the time he's been back? There were people at the airport, and then Victor had been impatient to get home and here, but now they are here and it seems silly to keep waiting when Yuri's in his arms and not leaving, even though Victor said he didn't have to stay.
Leaning up to kiss him is really the only option Victor has left.
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He'd meant to give Yuri more space, more leeway, to keep him from feeling trapped, but no sooner do his arms loosen than Yuri's twisting further, a leg going over Victor's and his other arm going around Victor's neck, cheek pressing into Victor's hair as worried words fall out. Saying I missed you, and had Yuri said that, before, without saying it in Russian? He'd found those words somehow, picked them for the same reason Victor would have.
Sometimes it feels like everything they say to each other has too many levels of meanings, all the way down, like shells glittering underwater. Easy to see, hard to grasp.
It's a balm to hear it now, anyway. Even if it was only a few days, even if they should be able to handle being apart that long, even if it's selfish. Even if he's still questioning his decision to leave at all.
(Over by the couch, Maccachin shifts and snuffles, and he's not sure it was the wrong decision, either.)
Maybe before Shanghai, he could have handled this better, before he knew that holding Yuri and kissing Yuri and having Yuri fall asleep next to him was an option, something he could actually ask for and have. Before Shanghai, this was all just him, because Yuri had changed his mind.
All he knows now is that he's not sure he could take it again. "I'm glad you're back."
Finally lifting his face from Yuri's neck and shoulder, to look up at him with a smile. Yuri's cheeks are pink and he looks uncertain but determined, one of his cutest and most irresistible expressions. How, exactly, has Victor managed to keep from tackling him in all the time he's been back? There were people at the airport, and then Victor had been impatient to get home and here, but now they are here and it seems silly to keep waiting when Yuri's in his arms and not leaving, even though Victor said he didn't have to stay.
Leaning up to kiss him is really the only option Victor has left.