The whole idea is unsettling. Hurting Yuri. Hurting Yuri without even realizing he was hurting Yuri, and potentially without even noticing until it's too late. Even today, he hadn't meant to hurt, only to release some of the pressure Yuri was under. He hadn't expected Yuri to crack, to start crying, to yell at him until his voice sounded hoarse. He hadn't meant it to be an attack.
(How can you say something like that, like you're testing me?)
The likelihood of it happening again giving him knots in his stomach, a frisson of ice skating across his skin and leaving him shivering. (Maybe Yakov was right. Maybe he was never going to be very good at this. Maybe if he can't be the right coach for Yuri, he can't do this, either.) All of it waves crashing against a stubborn, desperate rock of no, never, never in his head, while Yuri's arms tighten and he presses his face a little more closely to Yuri's neck.
Wanting to be closer. To wrap all the way around him. To promise only to protect, and never to hurt.
All he wants to do is love Yuri. It's a helpless thought, when there are so many ways it could go wrong, when he's already messed up more times than he can count just tonight, but he's powerless against it, can't breathe for it, can't remember anything else he used to care about. His career, his plans, his training, his team, his country, all tossed aside in the time it took to book a ticket to Japan and apply for a visa. (Thoughtless.)
And the only defense he has is: "I love you." Said soft into Yuri's skin, helpless and hopeless and absolute.
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Date: 2017-05-11 01:01 pm (UTC)The whole idea is unsettling. Hurting Yuri. Hurting Yuri without even realizing he was hurting Yuri, and potentially without even noticing until it's too late. Even today, he hadn't meant to hurt, only to release some of the pressure Yuri was under. He hadn't expected Yuri to crack, to start crying, to yell at him until his voice sounded hoarse. He hadn't meant it to be an attack.
(How can you say something like that, like you're testing me?)
The likelihood of it happening again giving him knots in his stomach, a frisson of ice skating across his skin and leaving him shivering. (Maybe Yakov was right. Maybe he was never going to be very good at this. Maybe if he can't be the right coach for Yuri, he can't do this, either.) All of it waves crashing against a stubborn, desperate rock of no, never, never in his head, while Yuri's arms tighten and he presses his face a little more closely to Yuri's neck.
Wanting to be closer. To wrap all the way around him. To promise only to protect, and never to hurt.
All he wants to do is love Yuri. It's a helpless thought, when there are so many ways it could go wrong, when he's already messed up more times than he can count just tonight, but he's powerless against it, can't breathe for it, can't remember anything else he used to care about. His career, his plans, his training, his team, his country, all tossed aside in the time it took to book a ticket to Japan and apply for a visa. (Thoughtless.)
And the only defense he has is: "I love you." Said soft into Yuri's skin, helpless and hopeless and absolute.
(He might be a fool, but at least he knows it.)