It's only in certain seconds he even seems to remember there's silence in the room when they've stopped talking, and it only seems to come to him disjointedly. Only for seconds. (Like the pain. Like the moving. Even, like his silver medal.) There a second, even important while there, but then gone. Just gone. Like his ears are only something working, able to work, able to even be paid attention to, when it's not solely for hearing the next words or sound Victor makes.
Like his usual hyper-awareness of everything around him, everything with everyone, everything that had, everything that could possibly go the worst it possibly could go, it's all is caught in a white out. Comes, vividly, back and, then, vanishes just as fast.
Caught at the softness of Victor's lips, and the spider-like cracks of an equally impossible ache in his chest, when they part and aren't touching. That exists no longer than indrawn breath before it vanishes as Victor shakes against him. Victor. Shaking. Victor? Victor. Shaking just enough he can feel it under his hands, against his chest. Victor. Staring up at him with eyes so bright it seems as ill-advised to stare into them as the sun, as certain to blot out everything else until there isn't an else. Until he's all there is.
(Would anything really be different, then?
How long has it already only been Victor and Victor and Victor?)
Yuri's shifted for a second in surprise at the touch to his cheek -- the surprise of inattentiveness, even while just staring at Victor's face, nearly making him shy back, before he corrected back into it with a sag of relief-- his eyes almost closing, half-closing, everything in his chest re-orienting the paths of faint heat and soft tingling those knuckles drug over and up his cheek. To barely glance his temple, his ear, before Victor's hand turned and fingertips pressed into his hair, as Yuri couldn't quite figure out more than a faint sigh out his nose, and leaning into it.
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Date: 2017-04-23 03:43 am (UTC)Like his usual hyper-awareness of everything around him, everything with everyone,
everything that had, everything that could possibly go the worst it possibly could go,
it's all is caught in a white out. Comes, vividly, back and, then, vanishes just as fast.
Caught at the softness of Victor's lips, and the spider-like cracks of an equally impossible ache in his chest, when they part and aren't touching. That exists no longer than indrawn breath before it vanishes as Victor shakes against him. Victor. Shaking. Victor? Victor. Shaking just enough he can feel it under his hands, against his chest. Victor. Staring up at him with eyes so bright it seems as ill-advised to stare into them as the sun, as certain to blot out everything else until there isn't an else. Until he's all there is.
(Would anything really be different, then?
How long has it already only been Victor and Victor and Victor?)
Yuri's shifted for a second in surprise at the touch to his cheek -- the surprise of inattentiveness, even while just staring at Victor's face, nearly making him shy back, before he corrected back into it with a sag of relief-- his eyes almost closing, half-closing, everything in his chest re-orienting the paths of faint heat and soft tingling those knuckles drug over and up his cheek. To barely glance his temple, his ear, before Victor's hand turned and fingertips pressed into his hair, as Yuri couldn't quite figure out more than a faint sigh out his nose, and leaning into it.