It takes Yuri only to the space of Victor's next short question, to realize that might not have been the best response. Except. It'd been an honest one, hadn't it? He didn't want his first impulse to be to lie or hide the answers to the question Victor was asking, did he? It was just that the whole thing had seemed so improper to remember. Obviously wrong. Obviously his own impropriety and shame by ages more than Victor's.
The Victor had just been drunk, which made everything Yuri thought or felt, while sober, even more, his own fault. How was he even supposed to explain that without explaining that? Or. He couldn't stop remembering he was. Right here. They both were. Right here. Again. Except not like that. All the things said tonight. Crazy things. But not with a single drop of alcohol. That had at least helped as the reason or excuse. Even a paltry shield was still that.
This was all so very bare and anytime he had to look at it again, without one ...
"You were pretty drunk, and--" Yuri said, thinking maybe too hard, eyebrows pushed together and fingers pressing on his ice pack. "--a lot of what you were saying wasn't in any normal order, like a conversation. You'd jump topics about as often as languages." The main consistency of the later half being only, that all of it was poured straight into Yuri's skin. Well.
And.
"And I think --" No. Not quite. "--I thought maybe you'd forgotten I was there. A few times." But that's still not quite. Trying again. "Or that I was the person you were talking to at all."
He could still picture those seconds of shocked and stung bleeding remorse. Victor apologizing. Again and again. Coming to his senses, seeming to suddenly see Yuri, there in front of him, suddenly apologizing again, each new time.
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Date: 2017-05-07 08:29 pm (UTC)The Victor had just been drunk, which made everything Yuri thought or felt, while sober, even more, his own fault. How was he even supposed to explain that without explaining that? Or. He couldn't stop remembering he was. Right here. They both were. Right here. Again. Except not like that. All the things said tonight. Crazy things. But not with a single drop of alcohol. That had at least helped as the reason or excuse. Even a paltry shield was still that.
This was all so very bare and anytime he had to look at it again, without one ...
"You were pretty drunk, and--" Yuri said, thinking maybe too hard, eyebrows pushed together and fingers pressing on his ice pack. "--a lot of what you were saying wasn't in any normal order, like a conversation. You'd jump topics about as often as languages." The main consistency of the later half being only, that all of it was poured straight into Yuri's skin. Well.
And.
"And I think --" No. Not quite. "--I thought maybe you'd forgotten I was there. A few times."
But that's still not quite. Trying again. "Or that I was the person you were talking to at all."
He could still picture those seconds of shocked and stung bleeding remorse. Victor apologizing. Again and again.
Coming to his senses, seeming to suddenly see Yuri, there in front of him, suddenly apologizing again, each new time.