For a second, Yuri's nowhere to be seen and there's a clenching in his gut –– but then that voice comes from behind the bathroom door and he relaxes, trying not to think about how his heart rate skyrocketed in less than a second, or the way his stomach dropped somewhere toward his hips.
"Okay, the ice is out here for you when you want it."
But it feels strange, now, this room. Even if this is only the third night, and only the first time overall, even if he has far more experience with being alone in a hotel room than with someone, it feels strange to be in it by himself. (Except he's not, Yuri's still here, just behind a closed door that Victor hopes he won't hide behind all night.) To distract himself, he rummages in his trouser pockets in the closet for his phone, but doesn't thumb it on. Someone else might try to play it cool by sitting there, scrolling through their phone when Yuri comes back out, but he doesn't want to play it cool, doesn't want this to feel like any normal night.
He ends up just plugging it in to the charging cable he'd set up on the side table near the head of the bed, and collapses back onto the bed itself with a sigh, the ice landing next to him on the comforter. It feels good to stretch out, after being so wound up with Yuri's weight on his lap and tension in his back: his knuckles brush the headboard and his toes stretch out past the end of the mattress, but it feels good, and it feels even better when he relaxes to just look up at the ceiling.
Different, and not different. He still doesn't know what changed, or when, or if it did, and even if it doesn't matter, he still wants to. Is wistful for it, the knowledge that there was some point in time when maybe Yuri felt the same way he has over these last few months, despite all evidence to the contrary. Is it really just because Victor kissed him? And if it is ...
How good is that, really?
For someone who has always avoided responsibility, he's a little bewildered to be holding so much of it now. Feeling responsible for Yuri. For his programs. His coaching. His mental and emotional state, as well as his physical one. Everything a coach should worry about, that makes Victor sympathize with every strand of Yakov's lost hair, but then, also ––
His first kiss. His first ... anything else that happens tonight, that Victor is aware he needs to be careful with, in a way he hasn't been since ... ever? And already he's almost lost it more than once.
He's got to do better. This is too important to screw up.
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Date: 2017-04-28 11:03 am (UTC)"Okay, the ice is out here for you when you want it."
But it feels strange, now, this room. Even if this is only the third night, and only the first time overall, even if he has far more experience with being alone in a hotel room than with someone, it feels strange to be in it by himself. (Except he's not, Yuri's still here, just behind a closed door that Victor hopes he won't hide behind all night.) To distract himself, he rummages in his trouser pockets in the closet for his phone, but doesn't thumb it on. Someone else might try to play it cool by sitting there, scrolling through their phone when Yuri comes back out, but he doesn't want to play it cool, doesn't want this to feel like any normal night.
He ends up just plugging it in to the charging cable he'd set up on the side table near the head of the bed, and collapses back onto the bed itself with a sigh, the ice landing next to him on the comforter. It feels good to stretch out, after being so wound up with Yuri's weight on his lap and tension in his back: his knuckles brush the headboard and his toes stretch out past the end of the mattress, but it feels good, and it feels even better when he relaxes to just look up at the ceiling.
Different, and not different. He still doesn't know what changed, or when, or if it did, and even if it doesn't matter, he still wants to. Is wistful for it, the knowledge that there was some point in time when maybe Yuri felt the same way he has over these last few months, despite all evidence to the contrary. Is it really just because Victor kissed him? And if it is ...
How good is that, really?
For someone who has always avoided responsibility, he's a little bewildered to be holding so much of it now. Feeling responsible for Yuri. For his programs. His coaching. His mental and emotional state, as well as his physical one. Everything a coach should worry about, that makes Victor sympathize with every strand of Yakov's lost hair, but then, also ––
His first kiss. His first ... anything else that happens tonight, that Victor is aware he needs to be careful with, in a way he hasn't been since ... ever? And already he's almost lost it more than once.
He's got to do better. This is too important to screw up.