And not the clarifying question he was expecting, either, inasmuch as he was expecting one at all, and not just Yuri's exasperation at Victor's inability to remember that the world is populated with anyone other than them, and that those people were on the street with them only moments ago. "What? No."
It's a kneejerk negation, but even as it's blinking out of him, he takes a harder look at Yuri's face, how his lips press hard enough to turn the skin around them white, and thinks he's been reading this all wrong. "Yuri!"
Nearly gasped, but he can't help it, it knifes straight to his heart. The assumption. The possibility. How wrong. How desperately he needs to clear this up before he says or does absolutely anything else, because he might be sorry for embarrassing Yuri, a little, and he might be sorry for surprising Yuri, a little, and if Yuri has changed his mind then he certainly is ––
But not for that. Never for that.
He is only sorry he didn't start kissing Yuri two years ago, so that he would never have had to stop. Both hands going to Yuri's face, while he's trying to make Yuri understand through the sheer intensity of his gaze. He would never. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not as long as Yuri wants him to keep doing it. "Of course not. I'm not sorry for that."
The thought can't even take root in his mind, is rejected out of hand. "Don't you know how long I've wanted you?"
Their floor is coming up –– if he could will the elevator to slow down, he would. All he can do is hope Yuri can see the sincerity in his face, and that isn't enough, he has to show him, so even as the elevator slows and comes to the slight jounce of a halt, he leans in to prove it. That Yuri's read this wrong.
That there's nothing Victor's sorry for, except not doing this sooner.
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Date: 2017-04-13 02:29 pm (UTC)And not the clarifying question he was expecting, either, inasmuch as he was expecting one at all, and not just Yuri's exasperation at Victor's inability to remember that the world is populated with anyone other than them, and that those people were on the street with them only moments ago. "What? No."
It's a kneejerk negation, but even as it's blinking out of him, he takes a harder look at Yuri's face, how his lips press hard enough to turn the skin around them white, and thinks he's been reading this all wrong. "Yuri!"
Nearly gasped, but he can't help it, it knifes straight to his heart. The assumption. The possibility. How wrong. How desperately he needs to clear this up before he says or does absolutely anything else, because he might be sorry for embarrassing Yuri, a little, and he might be sorry for surprising Yuri, a little, and if Yuri has changed his mind then he certainly is ––
But not for that. Never for that.
He is only sorry he didn't start kissing Yuri two years ago, so that he would never have had to stop. Both hands going to Yuri's face, while he's trying to make Yuri understand through the sheer intensity of his gaze. He would never. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not as long as Yuri wants him to keep doing it. "Of course not. I'm not sorry for that."
The thought can't even take root in his mind, is rejected out of hand. "Don't you know how long I've wanted you?"
Their floor is coming up –– if he could will the elevator to slow down, he would. All he can do is hope Yuri can see the sincerity in his face, and that isn't enough, he has to show him, so even as the elevator slows and comes to the slight jounce of a halt, he leans in to prove it. That Yuri's read this wrong.
That there's nothing Victor's sorry for, except not doing this sooner.