Victor shifts, more than just the hand Yuri had somehow lost, or the ribs expanding into his -- and he's not quite sure how he lost those, or he is, but that takes more thinking and his thinking only has one path, Victor suddenly moving. Making him blink eyes open, against the light being suddenly more bright than he'd expected. A flare of unfocused brightness he grimaced at, sidelong with the weight of eyelids, and the way that opening them felt like pulling two stickers apart.
The voice above him rumbling words about his being tired as he closed his eyes tighter, before blinking them a little more, as though both might help more, with getting them to open and stay open. To dispell the feeling, and let him dispell Victor's words about it, about his not being tired. Except that right as he meant to open his mouth to tell Victor he was fine, instead of words a yawn pushed out through his mouth and his teeth, and what felt like all the way to ribs, stretching again all those muscles in his back for it.
He tried to tamp that down, but ended up having to turn his face away, and raise a hand to his mouth, muffling, "ごめん." Not English. He thinks harder, reaching for his other words, with a furrow of his forehead. "I didn't mean to--" Suddenly yawn in his face? Almost fall asleep? Actually fall asleep? Did it say something that he wasn't entirely certain himself, in his own head?
Which has more than a touch of a blush to it, and maybe a bit more focus, blinked and forced into focusing on Victor's face so close, mined up from the mire of the hooks all around him already aching downward. He's probably the only person in the world to almost fall asleep with Victor Nikiforov on top of them, in the middle of talking to them. Had he still been talking? Had Yuri missed something? He couldn't really remember, but Victor didn't look mad at least?
Victor was leaning on one of his hands, staring down at Yuri, and pushing back Yuri's hair with the other. Still touching him, and Yuri wants to lean into that, to be certain it's not a dream and it won't suddenly dissolve and dilute if he agrees to sleep, agrees to close his eyes, and actually can sleep for the first time in nearly three days now. It was amazing he was still managing anything, and miraculous that he'd managed to get a silver medal almost without any sleep at all.
Did that say something about him?
Maybe?
Maybe he'd think about it tomorrow.
Right now, holding on to the thought, or wherever that led off into another path in the dim of his head, was like trying to catch the sunlight in his fingers, especially while Victor is this close and has a hand on one side of his face. Tell him he needs to sleep. It's almost the very last thing he wants to do, agree to just sleep, or to point out the logical flaw, or next step in Victor's point. Which. Maybe he is right, but maybe Yuri isn't entirely sure he wants to be right. He's tired. Fine. But he has to move to go to sleep.
The thought of which has more to do with Victor on top of him and his bed a few steps away over there.
Which Victor probably hasn't even gotten to thinking of in his gentle teasing. Point. Something.
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Date: 2017-05-14 04:31 pm (UTC)The voice above him rumbling words about his being tired as he closed his eyes tighter, before blinking them a little more, as though both might help more, with getting them to open and stay open. To dispell the feeling, and let him dispell Victor's words about it, about his not being tired. Except that right as he meant to open his mouth to tell Victor he was fine, instead of words a yawn pushed out through his mouth and his teeth, and what felt like all the way to ribs, stretching again all those muscles in his back for it.
He tried to tamp that down, but ended up having to turn his face away, and raise a hand to his mouth, muffling, "ごめん." Not English. He thinks harder, reaching for his other words, with a furrow of his forehead. "I didn't mean to--" Suddenly yawn in his face? Almost fall asleep? Actually fall asleep? Did it say something that he wasn't entirely certain himself, in his own head?
Which has more than a touch of a blush to it, and maybe a bit more focus, blinked and forced into focusing on Victor's face so close, mined up from the mire of the hooks all around him already aching downward. He's probably the only person in the world to almost fall asleep with Victor Nikiforov on top of them, in the middle of talking to them. Had he still been talking? Had Yuri missed something? He couldn't really remember, but Victor didn't look mad at least?
Victor was leaning on one of his hands, staring down at Yuri, and pushing back Yuri's hair with the other. Still touching him, and Yuri wants to lean into that, to be certain it's not a dream and it won't suddenly dissolve and dilute if he agrees to sleep, agrees to close his eyes, and actually can sleep for the first time in nearly three days now. It was amazing he was still managing anything, and miraculous that he'd managed to get a silver medal almost without any sleep at all.
Did that say something about him?
Right now, holding on to the thought, or wherever that led off into another path in the dim of his head, was like trying to catch the sunlight in his fingers, especially while Victor is this close and has a hand on one side of his face. Tell him he needs to sleep. It's almost the very last thing he wants to do, agree to just sleep, or to point out the logical flaw, or next step in Victor's point. Which. Maybe he is right, but maybe Yuri isn't entirely sure he wants to be right. He's tired. Fine. But he has to move to go to sleep.
The thought of which has more to do with Victor on top of him and his bed a few steps away over there.
Which Victor probably hasn't even gotten to thinking of in his gentle teasing. Point. Something.
"You have to move if you want me to get up."