Besides the fundamentally cruel whisper of a laugh in the back of his head at the sheer bareness of the question, the concept, the opposition of sensible realism, that makes something in his center shiver at a snap of bitter cold. But right now. Right in this second. It's a strange urge. All of this is full of strange urges and even stranger feelings. He doesn't know, while Victor is kissing his fingers that tremble just slightly, and saying he's sorry. When Victor somehow thinks he's doing everything wrong, and Yuri is worried for an all too clear moment, he might take it back.
Has to remind himself it hasn't been even a minute since Victor said he would stay.
He would stay and wanted to be nowhere else.
Yuri's head is never the best to him.
But somehow all of this is real, Victor says. Real, real, real. (Real?) Victor is laying here, kissing his fingers, and apologizing, even just the brush of those words, and Yuri wants to kiss him. Again. And apologize. Again. Like it's the only thing he knows how to do here. Even though Victor keeps telling him to stop. Keeps telling him there's nothing for him to apologize for like those things don't fill an entire arena.
He nods, though, without chasing the impulse, without leaning toward Victor, watching that strange new urge chase itself around his chest. "Okay."
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Date: 2017-04-18 12:38 pm (UTC)Besides the fundamentally cruel whisper of a laugh in the back of his head at the sheer bareness of the question, the concept, the opposition of sensible realism, that makes something in his center shiver at a snap of bitter cold. But right now. Right in this second. It's a strange urge. All of this is full of strange urges and even stranger feelings. He doesn't know, while Victor is kissing his fingers that tremble just slightly, and saying he's sorry. When Victor somehow thinks he's doing everything wrong, and Yuri is worried for an all too clear moment, he might take it back.
Has to remind himself it hasn't been even a minute since Victor said he would stay.
He would stay and wanted to be nowhere else.
Yuri's head is never the best to him.
But somehow all of this is real, Victor says. Real, real, real. (Real?) Victor is laying here, kissing his fingers, and apologizing, even just the brush of those words, and Yuri wants to kiss him. Again. And apologize. Again. Like it's the only thing he knows how to do here. Even though Victor keeps telling him to stop. Keeps telling him there's nothing for him to apologize for like those things don't fill an entire arena.
He nods, though, without chasing the impulse, without leaning toward Victor,
watching that strange new urge chase itself around his chest. "Okay."