Yuri doesn't say anything else, but his hand comes up to Victor's back and he doesn't pull or push away, either, and Victor keeps being surprised by that and grateful for it in the same second.

(It had been so confusing, bordering on hurtful, those first few weeks, like his touch was a lit match that did nothing but burn.) "I'm glad." For Yuri agreeing. That Yuri is letting Victor hold onto him, one hand at the back of his head with fingers sinking into soft dark hair, the other at his shoulder, while Victor beams into his neck and ear and jaw. "You had me worried for a second."

That he'd managed to push Yuri too far again, and Yuri had refound all those lines he'd drawn around them months ago, remembered why he wanted them in the first place, but now, he's saying yes, and Victor wasn't wrong to say it after all. Even if he could have handled it better, probably.

A thought which makes him pull back so he can kiss first one cheek, and then his mouth, and then the other, and then Yuri's ear, full of exuberant affection. "I'm sorry I'm so bad at this, gomen, gomen. I really want to do it right."

As apologetic as the words are, there's only relieved laughter in his voice, all his hesitation sailed directly out the window into the glittering Shanghai night with Yuri's agreement, and when he pulls back, eyes warm and half-lidded and smiling, with his hands cupping Yuri's face, delight bubbling up in a never-ending spring. "I'll try to do better next time, okay?"