He waits until he's sure Yuri is asleep, breathing slow and even, a boneless lump beneath a cloud of bedding, before moving. Fingers slipping out of Yuri's hair, and just brushing against his cheek, before Victor is pushing up, carefully, trying to keep his weight from shifting the mattress too much and waking Yuri up.
Not that he's too worried about Yuri waking up. He went under so quickly and so completely that Victor's not sure even the hotel collapsing around him could toss him back into wakefulness. That's probably a good thing –– definitely for Yuri, and maybe even for Victor, too. It means he can get up, quietly, and move around the room, doing all those things he'd meant to do before. Close the drapes against the gleaming lights of Shanghai. Pad to the bathroom to use it and brush his teeth. Open the door a crack to hang a "Do Not Disturb" notice on the handle outside, along with the dry cleaning, because Yuri should sleep in, and maybe he should, too, even if his weariness has the electric buzz of exhaustion mixed with adrenaline, coating his nerves and keeping his eyes open, even as they feel more and more gritty, eyelids trying to stick closed.
So much has happened tonight.
(He kissed Yuri, and Yuri kissed him back.)
He doesn't know how to begin sorting through it all, or even if he should, but it feels strange and wonderful to sit back down on the empty side of that bed, and look over to see Yuri already there. Yuri, who won't be surprised to wake up and find Victor there in the morning. Yuri who agreed to stay, for the cost of being covered in a blanket. Yuri who has surprised him more in the last eight months than anyone else has managed throughout Victor's entire lifetime.
Yuri who he loves, with a helpless desperation that has him already wanting to reach back out, make sure he's real. Yuri who loves him back.
(How did this happen?)
It's going to be impossible to sleep, even once he turns out the lamp on the side table and the room is doused in darkness, so he reaches for his phone for the first time today, squinting at its bright screen until his eyes adjust. (To his side, Yuri is a ghostly shape in the dim glow, but every time Victor looks over, he solidifies into reality.) The screen is a solid mass of notification after notification, and he scrolls through them, only reading some here and there when Minako's name appears. Where have you gone? she demands in one, and, much further down: What the hell was with that flip???!?!
He grins to see them, flicks open the text box with her name at the top, and types a response, more than an hour after her last message. Wasn't he amazing? Yuri was tired so I took him back to the hotel. He's asleep. We'll see you in the morning!
No sooner sent than those three dots appear, furling and unfurling until they resolve into an annoyed gray bubble with the words WHAT WAS THAT ONE THE ICE YOU PERV??????!? that actually makes him laugh, before he glances at Yuri, guiltily, only to let out a relieved breath when he doesn't wake, and just sends Minako a series of emojis (😄😘🤐) before exiting the app and flicking open Instagram, where he spends a moment blinking at the number of notifications that have popped up. He's tagged in a surprising amount of posts ... or, not so surprising, when he opens one up and finds a short video of himself leaping to tackle Yuri to the ice. It's difficult to see what's happening, exactly, and that's probably why the poster commented with a caption asking I can't seeeeeee but WAS THIS A KISS @v-nikiforov 😱 I kinda think it was HOW DO I HANDLE THIS?!?!?!.
He only scrolls through a few comments (don't be stupid that's a hug, OMG, I ship it, my FAAAAVEE) before skipping to the bottom of the screen, where Add a comment offers him a clean, neat text box into which he can type he was so perfect I couldn't resist 😍😍😍 because, well –– it's true, isn't it?
The other posts he looks at are more of the same, and something comes over him as he scrolls through image after image of him tackling Yuri, kissing Yuri, standing next to Yuri looking like he's forgotten the rest of the world even exists, clips of articles breathlessly asking what their relationship is, topped by headers of photos of that moment on the ice when Yuri had blinked away his surprise and smiled up at him, and the world around him had vanished.
TBH I think they were secretly dating the whole time says one caption, to which he replies not yet! with a winky face, and they're just so cute I hope they stay together forever sobs another, and he has to respond (after looking over at the sleeping figure by his side for a long, long moment) with ME TOO, and he favorites just about every post that comes up.
And there are many. Articles, posts, pictures: he savors them all, as more and more notifications come rolling in. His comments are making some waves, but they're only the truth, as he writes in another comment beneath a photo of him and Yuri on the street in Shanghai on their way back to the hotel. The caption is only a breathless is this @v-nikiforov KISSING #katsukiyuri on the street in Shanghai OR AM I CRAZY???, and all he says in his comment is:
I think this photo shows everything clearly enough 😄
... which gets an astounding amount of likes, and that's gratifying. Just as gratifying is how many people agree with him when he posts 😍 under an incredible photo of Yuri mid-free skate, with a caption that says he's just so beautiful, because he is. Beautiful. On the ice, in that perfect costume, skating his perfect program ...but just as much here, now. Face shaded in the dark, slack and relaxed in sleep, and Victor has to put his phone away, finally, because as fun as it is to let the world know how he feels about Yuri, he doesn't really care what they think. What they know. What they wonder.
Has to set his phone back on the side table and slip a little further under the sheets to curl towards Yuri's warmth, a hand sneaking over the space between them to slide over Yuri's stomach, while Victor shifts close enough, nearly, to share that same pillow, but it's still a problem. Maybe even more so, now.
Not wanting to close his eyes, and sleep. Not wanting to give up even a single second of this, now that he has it.
Not wanting this to end, this perfect, warm, cocoon of silence, where they're the only two people who exist.
He's still thinking that, right up until the second when his eyes close without him even noticing, and he drifts off still in the middle of his single, repeating thought: that he doesn't want it ever to end.
no subject
Not that he's too worried about Yuri waking up. He went under so quickly and so completely that Victor's not sure even the hotel collapsing around him could toss him back into wakefulness. That's probably a good thing –– definitely for Yuri, and maybe even for Victor, too. It means he can get up, quietly, and move around the room, doing all those things he'd meant to do before. Close the drapes against the gleaming lights of Shanghai. Pad to the bathroom to use it and brush his teeth. Open the door a crack to hang a "Do Not Disturb" notice on the handle outside, along with the dry cleaning, because Yuri should sleep in, and maybe he should, too, even if his weariness has the electric buzz of exhaustion mixed with adrenaline, coating his nerves and keeping his eyes open, even as they feel more and more gritty, eyelids trying to stick closed.
So much has happened tonight.
(He kissed Yuri, and Yuri kissed him back.)
He doesn't know how to begin sorting through it all, or even if he should, but it feels strange and wonderful to sit back down on the empty side of that bed, and look over to see Yuri already there. Yuri, who won't be surprised to wake up and find Victor there in the morning. Yuri who agreed to stay, for the cost of being covered in a blanket. Yuri who has surprised him more in the last eight months than anyone else has managed throughout Victor's entire lifetime.
Yuri who he loves, with a helpless desperation that has him already wanting to reach back out, make sure he's real. Yuri who loves him back.
(How did this happen?)
It's going to be impossible to sleep, even once he turns out the lamp on the side table and the room is doused in darkness, so he reaches for his phone for the first time today, squinting at its bright screen until his eyes adjust. (To his side, Yuri is a ghostly shape in the dim glow, but every time Victor looks over, he solidifies into reality.) The screen is a solid mass of notification after notification, and he scrolls through them, only reading some here and there when Minako's name appears. Where have you gone? she demands in one, and, much further down: What the hell was with that flip???!?!
He grins to see them, flicks open the text box with her name at the top, and types a response, more than an hour after her last message. Wasn't he amazing? Yuri was tired so I took him back to the hotel. He's asleep. We'll see you in the morning!
No sooner sent than those three dots appear, furling and unfurling until they resolve into an annoyed gray bubble with the words WHAT WAS THAT ONE THE ICE YOU PERV??????!? that actually makes him laugh, before he glances at Yuri, guiltily, only to let out a relieved breath when he doesn't wake, and just sends Minako a series of emojis (😄😘🤐) before exiting the app and flicking open Instagram, where he spends a moment blinking at the number of notifications that have popped up. He's tagged in a surprising amount of posts ... or, not so surprising, when he opens one up and finds a short video of himself leaping to tackle Yuri to the ice. It's difficult to see what's happening, exactly, and that's probably why the poster commented with a caption asking I can't seeeeeee but WAS THIS A KISS @v-nikiforov 😱 I kinda think it was HOW DO I HANDLE THIS?!?!?!.
He only scrolls through a few comments (don't be stupid that's a hug, OMG, I ship it, my FAAAAVEE) before skipping to the bottom of the screen, where Add a comment offers him a clean, neat text box into which he can type he was so perfect I couldn't resist 😍😍😍 because, well –– it's true, isn't it?
The other posts he looks at are more of the same, and something comes over him as he scrolls through image after image of him tackling Yuri, kissing Yuri, standing next to Yuri looking like he's forgotten the rest of the world even exists, clips of articles breathlessly asking what their relationship is, topped by headers of photos of that moment on the ice when Yuri had blinked away his surprise and smiled up at him, and the world around him had vanished.
TBH I think they were secretly dating the whole time says one caption, to which he replies not yet! with a winky face, and they're just so cute I hope they stay together forever sobs another, and he has to respond (after looking over at the sleeping figure by his side for a long, long moment) with ME TOO, and he favorites just about every post that comes up.
And there are many. Articles, posts, pictures: he savors them all, as more and more notifications come rolling in. His comments are making some waves, but they're only the truth, as he writes in another comment beneath a photo of him and Yuri on the street in Shanghai on their way back to the hotel. The caption is only a breathless is this @v-nikiforov KISSING #katsukiyuri on the street in Shanghai OR AM I CRAZY???, and all he says in his comment is:
I think this photo shows everything clearly enough 😄
... which gets an astounding amount of likes, and that's gratifying. Just as gratifying is how many people agree with him when he posts 😍 under an incredible photo of Yuri mid-free skate, with a caption that says he's just so beautiful, because he is. Beautiful. On the ice, in that perfect costume, skating his perfect program ...but just as much here, now. Face shaded in the dark, slack and relaxed in sleep, and Victor has to put his phone away, finally, because as fun as it is to let the world know how he feels about Yuri, he doesn't really care what they think. What they know. What they wonder.
Has to set his phone back on the side table and slip a little further under the sheets to curl towards Yuri's warmth, a hand sneaking over the space between them to slide over Yuri's stomach, while Victor shifts close enough, nearly, to share that same pillow, but it's still a problem. Maybe even more so, now.
Not wanting to close his eyes, and sleep. Not wanting to give up even a single second of this, now that he has it.
Not wanting this to end, this perfect, warm, cocoon of silence, where they're the only two people who exist.
He's still thinking that, right up until the second when his eyes close without him even noticing, and he drifts off still in the middle of his single, repeating thought: that he doesn't want it ever to end.
Not ever again.