He's somewhere around the fourth or fifth bend of this course, certain Victor will wake up this time and tell him it's all no use. Everything he came to do (they came to do), everything he tried to training into Yuri (which Yuri tried his best to learn), it's all for nothing. He won't even have to wait until after the free skate to hear it.

Except Victor shifts on him, with a low mumble, that vibrates into Yuri's ribs and his shoulder, before Victor is leaning up, before he finally slides off to one side, and his hand finds Yuri's shoulder to shake it. Victor's voice quiet, but insistent, against the shake. Because he was supposed to be asleep. That Victor pushes up gives him -- makes him? -- reach up for the sleep mask finally, eyes fluttering at the light of the room, and the sudden outpouring of it into the room.

Victor barely looks touched by his sleep, and Yuri is beginning to hate that. Somewhere in a sick pit in his stomach. Even in the semi-painful light, Victor's hair barely mussed, while Yuri's probably still looks like something slept in his hair during all those hours better than he did with any of that time inside of his own head. He looked at the clock, squinting for better focus, before wondering at how much, and how little, time had passed.

Hands finally free to move, Yuri pushed himself to sit upright, one foot tucked under a thigh.

"Yeah." The light is still a little disorienting after so long in darkness, and he's rubbing his eyes. "Okay."

Then, half folding the cloth in his hand, for all the good its imprisonment had done him. He held out the sleep mask, "Here."