I love you so much everything else in the world disappears.
Cheesy, but true. Yuri's thumb runs along his cheek, and Victor can only smile more at the feel of it, the way Yuri's starting to smile, now, too, as if in reflection, or reaction. I love you so much it feels like I'm drunk all the time.
So maybe it's not so strange that, actually drunk, he'd spent the night professing his feelings and clinging to Yuri. Stranger is the fact that Yuri let him, and strangest of all this newest, most incredible truth: that Yuri feels something similar, that Yuri dreamed of him, wanted him, too. Even if he didn't have the words to say that's what it was. Even if he still isn't sure what to say or do.
It doesn't matter. Nothing does, except having him here, almost two full years after the first time he imagined having Yuri alone in a hotel room, and two years has changed a lot. He would never have expected this expression on Yuri's face back then, but now he doesn't think he would trade this open, absolute trust shining from the face below him for anything, even the wicked smiles and brilliant desire of that night.
All of it hatching slowly in his chest, clambering up the ladder of his ribs to curl around his heart the way Maccachin, tired out and affectionate, curls around him on the couch after a long day. This smile, on Yuri's face, and even if Victor can guess why it's there, he can't help himself, the giddy, foolishness of it. "What?"
As much a laugh as a question, without any interrogation to it at all, only shifting his weight so he's lying comfortably half to Yuri's side, and half just over his chest, thumb tracing the curve of his ear. "Do I have something on my face?"
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Cheesy, but true. Yuri's thumb runs along his cheek, and Victor can only smile more at the feel of it, the way Yuri's starting to smile, now, too, as if in reflection, or reaction. I love you so much it feels like I'm drunk all the time.
So maybe it's not so strange that, actually drunk, he'd spent the night professing his feelings and clinging to Yuri. Stranger is the fact that Yuri let him, and strangest of all this newest, most incredible truth: that Yuri feels something similar, that Yuri dreamed of him, wanted him, too. Even if he didn't have the words to say that's what it was. Even if he still isn't sure what to say or do.
It doesn't matter. Nothing does, except having him here, almost two full years after the first time he imagined having Yuri alone in a hotel room, and two years has changed a lot. He would never have expected this expression on Yuri's face back then, but now he doesn't think he would trade this open, absolute trust shining from the face below him for anything, even the wicked smiles and brilliant desire of that night.
All of it hatching slowly in his chest, clambering up the ladder of his ribs to curl around his heart the way Maccachin, tired out and affectionate, curls around him on the couch after a long day. This smile, on Yuri's face, and even if Victor can guess why it's there, he can't help himself, the giddy, foolishness of it. "What?"
As much a laugh as a question, without any interrogation to it at all, only shifting his weight so he's lying comfortably half to Yuri's side, and half just over his chest, thumb tracing the curve of his ear. "Do I have something on my face?"