His heart rate escalates when Victor's hand curls around his. Even without the rush that's been getting everywhere, sticky and snapping with lightning, each time before now. For a moment he swears it's just furiously trying to escape him. That if he looked down at his hand -- at Victor's hand over his hand -- he'd catch the vibration of his so suddenly very real, very hard, heartbeat making the cloth of his shirt move even.
"We have different words for it." Words that were, also, other words, but had nuances and were this, too. "They're--" Except he doesn't want to say that anymore, even when his mouth is saying it. Because he's not sure it matters.
Not when Victor's fingers are wrapped around his hand, and Victor is tapping his chest light, but like a small brand, like Yuri's shirt and Yuri's hand are maybe not even there. Skipping steps, and translations, and explanations. Making his heart race with something that is fear and more, so much more, so many other bigger things. Pulling his words out of his hands, just by Victor putting his hand on him.
When his fingers curved under to try and wrap around Victor's fingertips, and the urge to pull him in, pull him closer makes no sense. There is no closer than the centimeters to his chest. There is no closer than how close they are already sitting. Victor's already so close, and too close, and not close enough all at once, when Yuri nods, caught in the urge that says closer still.
Because he had meant this. At the beginning, and then, again, at the end.
Because he still meant every part of it he hadn't gotten to say, because it was wrong inspecific.
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Date: 2017-04-25 02:43 am (UTC)"We have different words for it." Words that were, also, other words, but had nuances and were this, too. "They're--"
Except he doesn't want to say that anymore, even when his mouth is saying it. Because he's not sure it matters.
Not when Victor's fingers are wrapped around his hand, and Victor is tapping his chest light, but like a small brand, like Yuri's shirt and Yuri's hand are maybe not even there. Skipping steps, and translations, and explanations. Making his heart race with something that is fear and more, so much more, so many other bigger things. Pulling his words out of his hands, just by Victor putting his hand on him.
When his fingers curved under to try and wrap around Victor's fingertips, and the urge to pull him in, pull him closer makes no sense. There is no closer than the centimeters to his chest. There is no closer than how close they are already sitting. Victor's already so close, and too close, and not close enough all at once, when Yuri nods, caught in the urge that says closer still.
Because he had meant this. At the beginning, and then, again, at the end.
Because he still meant every part of it he hadn't gotten to say, because it was wrong inspecific.