He'd wanted that lie to roll off his tongue as convincingly as possible. In some respects, he supposes it might have been true –– he could no more help Yuri from the side of the rink than he could from in front of the television –– but it isn't about whether or not he can step onto the ice and rush to Yuri's side if he's needed, is it?
(He doesn't know if he would have been fine if Yakov hadn't been with him for a competition because Yakov always was, but he thinks so. It wouldn't have felt like this, like part of his soul and body was torn away, left behind when the plane left Moscow.)
He'd had to try, hadn't he? To keep Yuri's spirits up, not keep from saying things like it won't be the same not to be there because that wouldn't have been helpful. Still, he's a little surprised Yuri didn't see through what he'd felt had to be an obvious lie, a thin veneer of ostensible truth he barely felt like a layer of tissue over everything it was trying to hide. And yet Yuri looks taken aback, with a faint flush of embarrassed pink high on his cheeks. Had he really been thinking about that? Worrying about it, what it might mean?
That question pulls Victor out of his own thoughts to study Yuri a little more carefully: the pressed mouth, the blush, the way his eyes are searching Victor's face like he's looking for the truth. It certainly looks like Yuri is having to reassess something he'd been certain of, and that makes Victor frown, a faint line drawing between his eyebrows. "Of course it was a problem, Yuri. It could never be the same without being there, you know that. I just ... didn't want you to worry about it."
no subject
"What else could I have said?"
He'd wanted that lie to roll off his tongue as convincingly as possible. In some respects, he supposes it might have been true –– he could no more help Yuri from the side of the rink than he could from in front of the television –– but it isn't about whether or not he can step onto the ice and rush to Yuri's side if he's needed, is it?
(He doesn't know if he would have been fine if Yakov hadn't been with him for a competition because Yakov always was, but he thinks so. It wouldn't have felt like this, like part of his soul and body was torn away, left behind when the plane left Moscow.)
He'd had to try, hadn't he? To keep Yuri's spirits up, not keep from saying things like it won't be the same not to be there because that wouldn't have been helpful. Still, he's a little surprised Yuri didn't see through what he'd felt had to be an obvious lie, a thin veneer of ostensible truth he barely felt like a layer of tissue over everything it was trying to hide. And yet Yuri looks taken aback, with a faint flush of embarrassed pink high on his cheeks. Had he really been thinking about that? Worrying about it, what it might mean?
That question pulls Victor out of his own thoughts to study Yuri a little more carefully: the pressed mouth, the blush, the way his eyes are searching Victor's face like he's looking for the truth. It certainly looks like Yuri is having to reassess something he'd been certain of, and that makes Victor frown, a faint line drawing between his eyebrows. "Of course it was a problem, Yuri. It could never be the same without being there, you know that. I just ... didn't want you to worry about it."