Everything happens so very fast. Yuri is beginning to think that is the pattern.
This is true of this again. The way Victor's chest rises, posture shifts, spreads wider, face clears as simple as someone took a blown up car wiper and had suddenly brandished it across his face. Then, Victor is shoving the tray aside and Yuri should feel startled (right?), worried (about the tray? about it falling? the mess being made, if does and doesn't? About the sudden, predictable launch of movement?). Then, Victor has thrown his arms around Yuri's neck and everything is Victor curled around him.
There's still a teacup in his hands, and it doesn't come. Even though he waits a second for it to come. The other part of the pattern. The panic. That confusion. It doesn't come. It's a strange warmness. In his face. In his chest. Something strangely ... happy? Bursting up under that touch. (He's going on a date with Victor in Moscow. Apparently. In a week.) Under Victor's sudden burst of this newest touching, his voice so close to Yuri's ear, and so very, also ... happy? (That he said yes.)
Victor's burble of excited words.
Victor saying, this is all he wants? Yuri? Saying yes? Taking Yuri on a date?
He's only got one hand, with the cup, but the fingers of his free hand still end up against Victor's side, partially curled to his back, somewhere short of his shoulder. When he's both crushed into and leaning into Victor, a little shy of the whole fluttering first now thing, getting everywhere in his chest, pushing out and out and out, like nothing else is allowed to take this second anymore, but grateful, strangely, for this moment of Victor's over abundance of, well, everything.
Apparently, that's sort of part of the pattern, too. His part.
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Date: 2017-04-20 03:24 pm (UTC)Everything happens so very fast.
Yuri is beginning to think that is the pattern.
This is true of this again. The way Victor's chest rises, posture shifts, spreads wider, face clears as simple as someone took a blown up car wiper and had suddenly brandished it across his face. Then, Victor is shoving the tray aside and Yuri should feel startled (right?), worried (about the tray? about it falling? the mess being made, if does and doesn't? About the sudden, predictable launch of movement?). Then, Victor has thrown his arms around Yuri's neck and everything is Victor curled around him.
There's still a teacup in his hands, and it doesn't come. Even though he waits a second for it to come. The other part of the pattern. The panic. That confusion. It doesn't come. It's a strange warmness. In his face. In his chest. Something strangely ... happy? Bursting up under that touch. (He's going on a date with Victor in Moscow. Apparently. In a week.) Under Victor's sudden burst of this newest touching, his voice so close to Yuri's ear, and so very, also ... happy? (That he said yes.)
Victor's burble of excited words.
Victor saying, this is all he wants?
Yuri? Saying yes? Taking Yuri on a date?
He's only got one hand, with the cup, but the fingers of his free hand still end up against Victor's side, partially curled to his back, somewhere short of his shoulder. When he's both crushed into and leaning into Victor, a little shy of the whole fluttering first now thing, getting everywhere in his chest, pushing out and out and out, like nothing else is allowed to take this second anymore, but grateful, strangely, for this moment of Victor's over abundance of, well, everything.
Apparently, that's sort of part of the pattern, too. His part.