Are they still. Was he wrong. Was he wrong about everything.
Everything, like there's an everything to be wrong about, like there's a world without Victor in it. Like he knows how to stop this thing trembling inside his chest. When it makes him have to draw in a breath to do this thing he's doing without letting himself think about it. When he moves. Finally, really moves. Loosening his arms, and pulling back enough to look up at Victor. Victor who looks. Yuri is trying to decide if he looks ... scared?
Is it scared? Does Victor even get scared? Not the way he does.
Not the way he thinks he's certain, even through that feeling, when he's looking up.
He's not afraid of Victor. He's not. He's afraid of a lot of things right now. He can feel them, right outside and inside of his skin. He's afraid of what he's feeling, and what it means, and whether it means nothing at all, or whether it means something now but will mean absolutely nothing just as soon, just as suddenly as this became a reality.
He's afraid to look at the words Victor said like a long ... long time, afraid to give them any meaning they don't have,
or of how he thinks, suddenly, from nowhere expected, if he had just a single ounce more courage he'd just lean up and kiss Victor.
But he's not afraid of Victor. Not of Victor.
And he doesn't think Victor's wrong, And he can't hide or look away from Victor's face anymore,
And if that sticks in his throat, in his thudding heart, he just shakes his head.
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Date: 2017-04-14 08:48 pm (UTC)Everything, like there's an everything to be wrong about, like there's a world without Victor in it. Like he knows how to stop this thing trembling inside his chest. When it makes him have to draw in a breath to do this thing he's doing without letting himself think about it. When he moves. Finally, really moves. Loosening his arms, and pulling back enough to look up at Victor. Victor who looks. Yuri is trying to decide if he looks ... scared?
Is it scared? Does Victor even get scared? Not the way he does.
Not the way he thinks he's certain, even through that feeling, when he's looking up.
He's not afraid of Victor. He's not. He's afraid of a lot of things right now. He can feel them, right outside and inside of his skin. He's afraid of what he's feeling, and what it means, and whether it means nothing at all, or whether it means something now but will mean absolutely nothing just as soon, just as suddenly as this became a reality.
He's afraid to look at the words Victor said like a long ... long time,
afraid to give them any meaning they don't have,
or of how he thinks, suddenly, from nowhere expected,
if he had just a single ounce more courage he'd just lean up and kiss Victor.
But he's not afraid of Victor. Not of Victor.
And he doesn't think Victor's wrong,
And he can't hide or look away from Victor's face anymore,
And if that sticks in his throat, in his thudding heart, he just shakes his head.