Yuri isn't good at being thanked, at ever feeling whatever he did or does is worth it or requires it. Even now, after so many months together, he still doesn't think of himself as important. Not the way Victor does. Not the way Victor knows he is. "And I'm glad I could be here with Maccachin. But that doesn't mean I didn't want to be back in Moscow with you."
It's a decision he don't know if he could have made, quite honestly. If Yuri hadn't pushed him to leave, if Yakov hadn't been right there, what would he have done?
His fingers slip into Yuri's hair, before tracing back over that same line again, this time with his thumb resting gently at the edge of Yuri's cheekbone. Somewhere near the middle of the bed, his livestream has gone dead. The exhibition is over. For them, at least, there's nothing more to think about than the Grand Prix Final, only a month away. "I don't want you to have to miss me."
Any other day and he'd be pleased and a little smug to know that Yuri would miss him if he weren't here, because any other day it would be academic, a harmless fantasy. Just something to amuse himself with, imagining Yuri, usually so the opposite of demonstrative, pine for him. Even if it's only a shadow of what he went through over the last nearly two years, until Shanghai, it would have been a pleasant thought.
In reality, it's quite the opposite.
Maccachin will simply have to stay away from the steamed buns, because Victor isn't at all sure he could do it again.
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"I know I don't need to. I want to."
Yuri isn't good at being thanked, at ever feeling whatever he did or does is worth it or requires it. Even now, after so many months together, he still doesn't think of himself as important. Not the way Victor does. Not the way Victor knows he is. "And I'm glad I could be here with Maccachin. But that doesn't mean I didn't want to be back in Moscow with you."
It's a decision he don't know if he could have made, quite honestly. If Yuri hadn't pushed him to leave, if Yakov hadn't been right there, what would he have done?
His fingers slip into Yuri's hair, before tracing back over that same line again, this time with his thumb resting gently at the edge of Yuri's cheekbone. Somewhere near the middle of the bed, his livestream has gone dead. The exhibition is over. For them, at least, there's nothing more to think about than the Grand Prix Final, only a month away. "I don't want you to have to miss me."
Any other day and he'd be pleased and a little smug to know that Yuri would miss him if he weren't here, because any other day it would be academic, a harmless fantasy. Just something to amuse himself with, imagining Yuri, usually so the opposite of demonstrative, pine for him. Even if it's only a shadow of what he went through over the last nearly two years, until Shanghai, it would have been a pleasant thought.
In reality, it's quite the opposite.
Maccachin will simply have to stay away from the steamed buns, because Victor isn't at all sure he could do it again.