He takes the chance while Yuri's looking away to lick at his bottom lip and try to catch his own breath, but all thoughts of centering himself go flying directly out of his head at what comes out of Yuri's mouth. "We do?"
His delight is impossible to hide, and not at all dimmed by Yuri's wry tone or the reluctance in his voice. Yuri said we. Yuri said close the door, with both of them behind it. Yuri is staying.
At least, that's what it sounds like. "You'll stay?"
It would be so easy for Yuri to say instead that this wasn't right, that they should cool off on their own, that this is home and not a hotel and he still doesn't really know what they're doing, all of which is true, but he isn't saying that. He isn't leaving. Not yet, anyway, and Victor can feel it shining out of him, for the first time in days, cutting through the exhaustion and the fuzzy uncertainty and the misery of being apart. "Here?"
With me? wants to follow, tripping unbidden out of his mouth, but he manages to swallow it before looking –– he hopes –– too desperate. Still, it echoes around the room almost as clearly as if he'd said it out loud, and off to the side, he can hear Maccachin shifting.
All three of them in this one little room feels like fate, doesn't it? Like it's the way it was always meant to be. Victor, and the two living things he needs most in this world.
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Date: 2017-09-11 02:24 am (UTC)He takes the chance while Yuri's looking away to lick at his bottom lip and try to catch his own breath, but all thoughts of centering himself go flying directly out of his head at what comes out of Yuri's mouth. "We do?"
His delight is impossible to hide, and not at all dimmed by Yuri's wry tone or the reluctance in his voice. Yuri said we. Yuri said close the door, with both of them behind it. Yuri is staying.
At least, that's what it sounds like. "You'll stay?"
It would be so easy for Yuri to say instead that this wasn't right, that they should cool off on their own, that this is home and not a hotel and he still doesn't really know what they're doing, all of which is true, but he isn't saying that. He isn't leaving. Not yet, anyway, and Victor can feel it shining out of him, for the first time in days, cutting through the exhaustion and the fuzzy uncertainty and the misery of being apart. "Here?"
With me? wants to follow, tripping unbidden out of his mouth, but he manages to swallow it before looking –– he hopes –– too desperate. Still, it echoes around the room almost as clearly as if he'd said it out loud, and off to the side, he can hear Maccachin shifting.
All three of them in this one little room feels like fate, doesn't it? Like it's the way it was always meant to be. Victor, and the two living things he needs most in this world.