Victor's hand smooths over his hair, back over his head, while he says those words, caught in the darkness, like there is no question. Like he's absolutely certain that something about Yuri makes him lucky. It doesn't make sense, but it feels ... almost good. Almost. Barely the flicker of a far star's light's caught in the reflection of rough water.
It's not that he doesn't know people like him. Even love him. His family. Minako. Yuu-san and her family. Phichit. Celestino had never disliked him. And Victor. He does know that Victor loved him, before last night, before what he knew of that changed entirely. He'd known that he and Victor have always had something between them, something bigger than anything he'd ever felt in his life, something he said he was calling 'love' on national tv.
But he'd, also, said he'd always felt he was alone, fighting alone, doing all of this alone. Until this year. Until Victor. Who suddenly makes him shiver, again, when his thumb starts stroking gently on the nap of Yuri's neck, before speaking again. He wants to say me, too. It beats against his lips. He's sorry. He is. That he woke up Victor with that. That that was how Victor woke up. That that was how Yuri feels like he was shoved from quiet, fuzzy awareness to this. By Victor. Too. That this is what they made of the first morning (and is this an example of how nothing will ever work for them?).
Except, is it even really morning yet? When the room is still far more dark than light? When it's more than that the curtains are still out. It's still earlier than either of them really had to be awake. Not yet time for getting up. Getting ready for the exhibition, or even just to see what the breakfast buffet might have today. It's not really there yet, is it?
It's an odd thought, and maybe that's why it happens. A quiet not quite whisper, as he's realizing he can feel Victor's heartbeat against his cheek, the side of his head, through their hands, "Morning isn't over yet."
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Date: 2017-05-17 07:35 pm (UTC)It's not that he doesn't know people like him. Even love him. His family. Minako. Yuu-san and her family. Phichit. Celestino had never disliked him. And Victor. He does know that Victor loved him, before last night, before what he knew of that changed entirely. He'd known that he and Victor have always had something between them, something bigger than anything he'd ever felt in his life, something he said he was calling 'love' on national tv.
But he'd, also, said he'd always felt he was alone, fighting alone, doing all of this alone. Until this year. Until Victor. Who suddenly makes him shiver, again, when his thumb starts stroking gently on the nap of Yuri's neck, before speaking again. He wants to say me, too. It beats against his lips. He's sorry. He is. That he woke up Victor with that. That that was how Victor woke up. That that was how Yuri feels like he was shoved from quiet, fuzzy awareness to this. By Victor. Too. That this is what they made of the first morning (and is this an example of how nothing will ever work for them?).
Except, is it even really morning yet? When the room is still far more dark than light? When it's more than that the curtains are still out. It's still earlier than either of them really had to be awake. Not yet time for getting up. Getting ready for the exhibition, or even just to see what the breakfast buffet might have today. It's not really there yet, is it?
It's an odd thought, and maybe that's why it happens. A quiet not quite whisper, as he's realizing he can feel Victor's heartbeat against his cheek, the side of his head, through their hands, "Morning isn't over yet."