They slam the ice, and the shock reverberates up through Yuri and into Victor, because they're pressed together like pages in a book, and he has no intention of letting go, even as the roar of the crowd washes back into existence like a storm-swollen river bursting its dam.
Heart pounding, every cell alive and electric. He pushes himself up enough to see Yuri's face, and can't help wanting to laugh at the surprise painted there, cheeks flushed now with shock as much as exertion, eyes gone wide and blinking like Yuri can't parse what just happened.
Yesterday, he would have apologized. Yesterday, he wouldn't have even considered it. Yesterday, he would have expected Yuri to already be on the other side of the rink, running the way he did those first few days any time Victor touched him or even came close ––
But Yuri isn't moving, isn't shoving at him, is only looking at him with those startled eyes, and Victor can't tell if it's a laugh or a sob that's threatening to shred his throat, if it's happiness or adrenaline or sheer stupidity trying to burst through his chest.
Propping himself here, but he's not getting up and not letting Yuri go. Affectionate amusement coating every word, slipping into his smile, shining, shining, shining. He feels like a cascade of exploding fireworks, like the final crashing crescendo of a Rachmaninoff concerto, like saturating himself with rising applause after a perfect performance.
Like all that. But better. "This was the only thing I could think of to surprise you more than you've surprised me."
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Date: 2017-04-10 03:45 pm (UTC)Heart pounding, every cell alive and electric. He pushes himself up enough to see Yuri's face, and can't help wanting to laugh at the surprise painted there, cheeks flushed now with shock as much as exertion, eyes gone wide and blinking like Yuri can't parse what just happened.
Yesterday, he would have apologized. Yesterday, he wouldn't have even considered it. Yesterday, he would have expected Yuri to already be on the other side of the rink, running the way he did those first few days any time Victor touched him or even came close ––
But Yuri isn't moving, isn't shoving at him, is only looking at him with those startled eyes, and Victor can't tell if it's a laugh or a sob that's threatening to shred his throat, if it's happiness or adrenaline or sheer stupidity trying to burst through his chest.
Propping himself here, but he's not getting up and not letting Yuri go. Affectionate amusement coating every word, slipping into his smile, shining, shining, shining. He feels like a cascade of exploding fireworks, like the final crashing crescendo of a Rachmaninoff concerto, like saturating himself with rising applause after a perfect performance.
Like all that. But better. "This was the only thing I could think of to surprise you more than you've surprised me."