He doesn't know what it looks like, but it feels like a light breaks all across him, drenching his head and face and shoulders. Not a thin, tentative dawn sort of light: the brash, bold, liquid gold of brilliant afternoon cutting through a fog of cloud and a haze of drizzling rain.
Or it feels like being dropped into a vat of champagne, bubbles popping everywhere in his ears and head and chest. He doesn't know, only knows that Yuri is watching him with that odd and determined look on his face, like he's going to get this right or die trying, and that Victor is too far away. Whatever instinct lets him put down his cup and shove the tray of food to one side is his last rational one, but it's all one motion: tray pushed aside, crockery and utensils and teapot clattering in complaint, and a push forward onto his knees to lean across the space and wrap his arms around Yuri's neck in pure delight. "Really?"
Really, really? Not just saying it to make him feel better, not just wanting to go with him, but with him, just like Victor always thought was impossible, and he can't stop grinning. "You're going to love it! We'll have so much fun."
That last qualification getting brushed aside with all the dismissiveness it deserves. "Of course I haven't, why would I? I can't wait."
Change his mind? If Yuri hasn't? If Yuri is saying yes, and meaning it, because he wants to, if Yuri kisses him back and teases him for being a fool and holds onto him anyway? "It's all I want."
Well. Maybe not all, but in the grand scheme of things, everything he wants falls into this category, doesn't it, of being with Yuri, with Yuri, the way he hadn't realized he'd wanted all those months in St. Petersburg, trying to figure out why he couldn't stop thinking about a Japanese boy he barely knew.
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Date: 2017-04-20 02:39 pm (UTC)Or it feels like being dropped into a vat of champagne, bubbles popping everywhere in his ears and head and chest. He doesn't know, only knows that Yuri is watching him with that odd and determined look on his face, like he's going to get this right or die trying, and that Victor is too far away. Whatever instinct lets him put down his cup and shove the tray of food to one side is his last rational one, but it's all one motion: tray pushed aside, crockery and utensils and teapot clattering in complaint, and a push forward onto his knees to lean across the space and wrap his arms around Yuri's neck in pure delight. "Really?"
Really, really? Not just saying it to make him feel better, not just wanting to go with him, but with him, just like Victor always thought was impossible, and he can't stop grinning. "You're going to love it! We'll have so much fun."
That last qualification getting brushed aside with all the dismissiveness it deserves. "Of course I haven't, why would I? I can't wait."
Change his mind? If Yuri hasn't? If Yuri is saying yes, and meaning it, because he wants to, if Yuri kisses him back and teases him for being a fool and holds onto him anyway? "It's all I want."
Well. Maybe not all, but in the grand scheme of things, everything he wants falls into this category, doesn't it, of being with Yuri, with Yuri, the way he hadn't realized he'd wanted all those months in St. Petersburg, trying to figure out why he couldn't stop thinking about a Japanese boy he barely knew.