He did, didn't he? He fell. Because he thought he should do something he --
-- can't. Suddenly, Victor is stepping in front of him, with no warning. One of Victor's hands under his chin, pulling his face up, to Victor's, noses almost touching, and he's talking. Talking, talking, talking, Yuri's sure he's talking, he can hear Victor's voice somehow. But his heart is pounding. Thundering.
Everything is Victor's eyes, and Victor's hand, Victor right thereagain and his heart trying to explode. Everything else is evaporated, gone, obliterated is sudden almost painful jangle. Because Victor is going to -- and then he is. Yuri's heart is exploding, when Victor's lips brush his again. When it's too light, and it -- he nearly takes a step forward as Victor is pulling back to say more, this aborted confused movement when the rest of his body does.
At least his shoulders, his head, his chest. Moves toward him. Follows the movement of Victor pulling back at all. A sway uncaught.
Victor's words impossible. Confused. Blurred. He's not sure there's anything even almost as good as Victor in existence. (He got what? He got -- Victor? How. How is. What.What.) Yuri isn't sure any of this is real, could possibly be. His chest tightening, breath coming in and out through his nose too fast a few breaths, at that concept uncurling. (Against. Against, you got me.
Isn't that almost as good?)
When he can't tell. He can't. If this. Why -- any of -- why.
And why can't he stop the race of his heart. The sudden, impossible, screaming longing to just have Victor back. (Kissing him.) To kiss Victor. (Which feels even more dangerous.) The way his gaze keeps shifting, up and down, up, down, breath contracting, like his lungs are just done. He can't even. There was a question. But he can't remember it. Can't think. This helpless, overwhelming, thing that leaves him with only one word, drowning in it. "Victor."
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Date: 2017-04-12 07:49 pm (UTC)-- can't. Suddenly, Victor is stepping in front of him, with no warning. One of Victor's hands under his chin, pulling his face up, to Victor's, noses almost touching, and he's talking. Talking, talking, talking, Yuri's sure he's talking, he can hear Victor's voice somehow. But his heart is pounding. Thundering.
Everything is Victor's eyes, and Victor's hand, Victor right there again and his heart trying to explode. Everything else is evaporated, gone, obliterated is sudden almost painful jangle. Because Victor is going to -- and then he is. Yuri's heart is exploding, when Victor's lips brush his again. When it's too light, and it -- he nearly takes a step forward as Victor is pulling back to say more, this aborted confused movement when the rest of his body does.
At least his shoulders, his head, his chest. Moves toward him.
Follows the movement of Victor pulling back at all. A sway uncaught.
Victor's words impossible. Confused. Blurred. He's not sure there's anything even almost as good as Victor in existence. (He got what? He got -- Victor? How. How is. What. What.) Yuri isn't sure any of this is real, could possibly be. His chest tightening, breath coming in and out through his nose too fast a few breaths, at that concept uncurling. (Against. Against, you got me.
Isn't that almost as good?)
When he can't tell. He can't. If this. Why -- any of -- why.
And why can't he stop the race of his heart. The sudden, impossible, screaming longing to just have Victor back. (Kissing him.) To kiss Victor. (Which feels even more dangerous.) The way his gaze keeps shifting, up and down, up, down, breath contracting, like his lungs are just done. He can't even. There was a question. But he can't remember it. Can't think. This helpless, overwhelming, thing that leaves him with only one word, drowning in it. "Victor."