Tired of Feeling Never Enough

For a long moment, Yuri does nothing but stare, before no comes out like a reflex, as if Victor shook him and he remembered he'd meant for words to come out. The others aren't as clear –– Victor doesn't care about anyone, and he's sure it's possible for Yuri, too, he knows he can occasionally be too exuberant and too impetuous and that Yuri's affection for him is just as often laced with exasperation as it is with laughter. He could, possibly. Maybe even probably. Be embarrassed by more than the public attention that Victor barely remembers to notice, and that Yuri never seems to forget.

He might be. Ashamed. If he wants this to be a secret. "People hide things they're ashamed of."

Relationships. Habits. Old mistakes they never quite got over.

He said it yesterday, and he meant it: I don't care who sees or what they think. There's nothing here he wants to hide, wants to keep a secret. "If that's not it..."

If it's not that Yuri is embarrassed at the idea of being connected to him, or with him, why is he so upset? Is there another reason he can think of that isn't the one he dreads most, slowly squeezing a fist in his stomach?

That maybe...that was it? Last night?

And maybe he changed his mind, after all? "What does it matter if people know how I feel?"