Yuri isn't certain he'd expected Victor to shake his head. Not truly. Even if Yuri was well enough aware he'd drunk a lot. That it had been enough that it had sent Celestino crashing into the table, looking passed out, and somehow Yuri expected. Had he? Really? Somehow? Even when Victor couldn't walk or stand well, but he'd managed to keep talking. To keep sounding like himself. Even drunk. Then, woken up rosy, the weekend coming at them too hard to look back long.
He doesn't know if he's more surprised that he is surprised at the answer, or at the sudden way the rest of his words seemed to shift Victor's expression. This sudden edge of something he's not even positive should be, has reasons, but it looks like ... concern? Like Victor is worried about what he doesn't know suddenly? Not that were was anything to worry about that night now, with it done and gone (both of the nights of this weekend and skates the days following, done and gone now), but when did that even start, what he knew and didn't know?
If his fingers weren't still on his hip, soaking the chill of ice through the towel, and the tingle of Victor's thumb running over the thin skin on the top, he thinks he'd -- or at least he might -- reach out and touch Victor's face. Dispell whatever it is that pinches his features and this expression in just enough to not look right to him anymore.
Instead, it just gets trapped in his chest, while he just rubs his cheek and chin against the pillow. "What do you remember?"
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Date: 2017-05-06 04:41 pm (UTC)He doesn't know if he's more surprised that he is surprised at the answer, or at the sudden way the rest of his words seemed to shift Victor's expression. This sudden edge of something he's not even positive should be, has reasons, but it looks like ... concern? Like Victor is worried about what he doesn't know suddenly? Not that were was anything to worry about that night now, with it done and gone (both of the nights of this weekend and skates the days following, done and gone now), but when did that even start, what he knew and didn't know?
If his fingers weren't still on his hip, soaking the chill of ice through the towel, and the tingle of Victor's thumb running over the thin skin on the top, he thinks he'd -- or at least he might -- reach out and touch Victor's face. Dispell whatever it is that pinches his features and this expression in just enough to not look right to him anymore.
Instead, it just gets trapped in his chest, while he just rubs his cheek and chin against the pillow. "What do you remember?"