theglassheart: [ Fanart ] : { Google Images } (Default)
[personal profile] theglassheart
If Yuri thought the night before this one never ended, he was wrong. It's this newest night that feels like it never ends. Oppressive, pressing, darkness, digging into his eyes, his mouth, his nose, his ears, while Victor breathed heavy and easy in the adjoining bed. Yuri had tried to sleep. Turning this way, turning that way, staring at the backs of his eyelids toward the ceiling, pressing his face into his pillow. He tried and tried and tried (and most of all found himself trying not to let his breathing race so fast it might wake Victor).

The evening had been bearable, if not entirely enjoyable or unenjoyable. Less stressful than the one before it, if only marginally, while Phichit and Victor drug him from place to place. Too late for museums or anything with middaytime, there had been rather quick tours through the Yu Garden, the Oriental Pearl Tower, and the Jade Buddha Temple, and in the cases of closed doors, pictures with their iconic buildings. As well as everything else that looked interesting between them.

It took forever, and then it was just over.

He'd enjoyed some of it, but none of it stuck for long.
Not even the late calls from his family and Yuu-san had.

Not with the Free Skate looming. Not with every single person he was skating with gunning for where he was standing, and every person watching wondering if he could somehow pull out o f himself the miraculous performance that had seemed to come from almost nowhere. Like it hadn't even belonged to him. How many times had he performed Eros and it'd never been that?

How badly would it be when (if - when) tomorrow couldn't match it?
What would they say about him, then? What would they say about Victor, then?

Yuri would fall asleep only to startle awake what could only have been seconds later, nerves sharpening with each new jolt, until it felt like ice was splintering more and stabbing up harder through every part of his veins, until each second asleep seemed to only contain the certainty he would fall, he would fail, he would forget. He could never reach whatever he'd touched for that brief two minutes and eighteen seconds.

It'd been a fluke. He'd only dreamed it. He couldn't explain it. He couldn't sleep.
Every minute in that dark reaching, but, also, clutching his pillow.
Eyelids clenched tight, or eyes open, staring at the other bed.


Over and over, he counted his breaths down.
Over and over, he repeated that he had and he could.
Over and over, he told himself this was all in his head.

Over and over, he slipped right back as soon as it finished.




That morning comes at all only changes the color of the sky.

Breakfast is a blur, piling food into himself, like maybe it would give him any solidness. Weigh him to the seat, to the ground, to reality. It should be impossible, but his head feels even heavier than his body. Hot water had shaken some tension from his skin, but none at all from his mind. It hadn't mattered whether he was in the bed, in the shower, in a booth, at a table.

His foot tapped under the table, all the way up to his knee and thigh, and in the moments he could make himself stop, his fingers drum against the side of his thigh or the seat instead. Desperate to try and keep it from Victor's sight, when Victor won't stop looking at him, smiling like that, talking about how Eros was perfect, and what he should do as soon as they arrived at practice.

How would he look when he realized Yuri couldn't reproduce what he done. Couldn't even look at the things that compounded to get him there. Words Victor'd said, but entirely in a different way than he'd said them. That Yuri'd blown them out of proportion and reality out there, during Eros. What would he do if Yuri couldn't place at all?

What would he do when everyone no longer was cheering his name as the reason Yuri had done so well? When there would only be that gut-wrenching pity on every face and Victor's name was smeared with his failures the same as his already was? Why was he even going to put himself through that? Why was Yuri?





Practice is a comedy of uncertainty.
He doesn't even want to return to the wall and Victor during it.

His feet hardly feel like they belong to his body, and thinking about love doesn't produce his love, his family, Hasetsu, or Victor, it brings up more and more knots in his guts. It tears up the ice under him with images of last year, of every fall, of every day spent in his bed, avoid being awake, avoiding the rink, Celestino, Phichit. The flip of what that could -- will -- look like again.

Except at home. Except with his parents, and Minako, and Yuu-san, and his family.

Their sad faces, their disappointment, as Victor's back went vanishing away in the background of his loss.

Even the ease of his long earned and long loved turns seems to be slipping from him when his focus won't pull itself together. At full speed it makes it a fumble of something he hasn't fumbled in half his life, even if he doesn't fall. It's better the next time, and gone the third, but it still there. He can do this. He can. He's done it how many hundreds and thousands of times.

It makes him sloppy. It makes him reckless. It makes him stubborn. It makes him hesitate.

It ends all too soon. The alarm sounding for them to come in, and he trails in.

Date: 2017-04-21 04:49 pm (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by plastic (another sun soaked season fades away)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp
That's true, and it gets a faint rumble of a sound that barely makes it past Victor's chest in response, and he does move. Just not to save the tray.

No, his knees are sore from being knelt on for too long, supporting his weight and part of Yuri's, and they complain now more than the used to, so when he does let go, it's only with one arm, to lean back and prop himself up while he shifts. Legs uncurling from underneath him, the right bending flat against the comforter, right foot under his left knee, which conveniently gives him an excellent spot to draw Yuri into, as his left leg bends to wall him in, leaving Victor sitting half cross-legged and half sprawling. It drops him another few inches, even as he's pulling Yuri onto him as if he's more of a stuffed teddy bear for Victor to hold onto than a skater with elbows and knees and a bruised hip and, potentially, free will.

Yuri might scramble. He might pull away. He might poke at Victor and tease. He can do whatever he wants, it's all fine: but Victor wants to hold onto him a little while longer, even if Yuri's weight will eventually cut off the circulation in his leg.

He doesn't care. From this angle, he can wrap his arms around Yuri's ribs and settle his head back on Yuri's shoulder, and all it takes to ghost a kiss over Yuri's throat is to tip his head just slightly and let his mouth run across the skin right there. "In a minute."

Muffled into Yuri's shirt and skin, while Victor sighs like a dog that has just managed to tamp out the perfect circular bed into a blanket, after turning around and around and around before getting to collapse boneless and satisfied.

Date: 2017-04-22 04:28 am (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by cherrytini (sure!)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp
Yuri can use his name as an exclamation, he can call Victor impossible and annoying, he can be as exasperated as he wants, as long as he does the rest: resettles himself on Victor's lap, arms still around him, shiver when Victor presses a kiss to his throat.

As long as he doesn't pull away, it's all fine, and he can complain and disparage to his heart's content.

But he doesn't pull away. Even when he's grumbling that comment, and trying to shift to a comfortable spot while Victor's legs cross underneath him, he's not actually trying to get away, and maybe that's as eloquently stated by the grin Victor gives him when he pulls back just enough to look up into Yuri's face. Yuri, who just called him impossible in a way that meant you are impossibly terrible, who is reminding him that he isn't the tray that Victor had just been commenting on.

While Victor just gazes up at him, smiling, and smiling. "No?"

As if butter wouldn't melt. Head tipped back, and eyes on Yuri's face, and he's pretty sure the Orthodox Church frowns on worshiping anyone other than God Himself, but that's what this feels like. Worship. The sort of saturated adoration he had always found to be romantic but improbable in so many ballets, operas, classic works of literature. He'd never fully understood why someone might throw themselves under a train simply because they married the wrong person, but this last year, the last hour, the last ten seconds have all proved him wrong. "So you're saying I should let you go to get the tray, instead?"

It's ridiculous. Absurd. He knows he's being patently idiotic, that he may well have simply lost his mind, but he can't find it in himself to care, only wants to keep looking up at Yuri, while Yuri allows him to hold on, while Yuri's arms are around him, while his mouth is still buzzing from Yuri's skin and Yuri's kiss.

His smile is going, really, absolutely nowhere.

Date: 2017-04-22 02:36 pm (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by cherrytini (this is fun!)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp
Yuri says that, but his fingers tighten like he's anticipating the need to hang on, and Victor really had no idea that his smile could actually grow this wide. It's a realization which is immediately reconsidered, because there's soft pin touching Yuri's cheeks, and that only makes everything worse. Or better, depending on the criteria used, he supposes.

He thinks it's better. He had no idea how much better better could be, because as many times as he'd thought about this and daydreamed about it and longed for it in the middle of the night, when even Maccachin abandoned him (and how unfair, that Maccachin could so easily, casually, slip into Yuri's room and curl up with him without worry or fear of rejection?), he'd never really thought it could happen. It wasn't even on his list when he first arrived, expecting the Yuri from YouTube or the one from the ballroom. If someone had told him then that he would be perfectly happy, beyond happy, find absolute, perfect content in simply drawing Yuri into his arms and into his lap and curling around him, he would have rolled his eyes and sent them back to their romance novels and improbably cheesy movies.

And yet, here he is. Perfectly content. Feeling like this space in his lap and against his chest was always supposed to be taken up by a slim, warm body. Like his arms were always meant to wrap around this torso, his hands were always supposed to fit on the flats of these shoulder blades, the small of this back, the slight, hard curves of this waist. Aware, all of a sudden, of the nape of his own neck in a way he never had thought about it before, because nothing ever touched it aside from his shirt collars and scarves.

But Yuri's fingers are there now, and it's amazing: how had he never thought about the nape of his neck before? How had he not known how many nerves are there, lighting quietly to life under Yuri's touch, springing to attention and complaining for more?

How is it possible that he loves this annoyance on Yuri's face almost as much as he loved that dazed, starry-eyed desire stripped bare only a few moments ago? How was that only a few moments ago? How does it exist, at all?

But he does. Love it. Yuri's fingers tightening, and Yuri blushing and looking aggravated immediately after, like his fingers gave him away, and Victor's sure he'll never be able to get enough of this. Not if he soaked in it for a thousand lifetimes.

Yuri wants him. And Yuri can't stop himself from holding onto him. Victor's sure this is a drug he'll never stop craving. "In a minute."

Repeating himself, when his hands are flattening against Yuri's back and coaxing him to lean down, while Victor leans up to kiss him again.

Date: 2017-04-23 03:12 am (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by cherrytini (I'm patiently waiting)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp
The problem is, he's not sure how to let go of Yuri.

The problem is, there's a tray of food and tea on the bed –– or what's left of it, anyway –– that he needs to put back out in the hall. There's the dry cleaning bag on the other bed that has Yuri's costumes in it, with the note that he never managed to finish sitting somewhere on the floor, wherever it floated to when he dropped it in his haste to get to Yuri, and those need to go outside, too. There are alarms to set, and there's the program to go over, and he should let Yuri get an early night, after Yuri didn't sleep well, and there's tomorrow's exhibition to think about.

Not to mention a plane to catch for Moscow, and rink time to confirm once they get there.

There's so much to do, and all of that is only the smallest percentage, the most immediate, most important things, and he can't bring himself to do so much as move that damn tray, because it would require letting go of Yuri ... and the problem is, he's not sure how to.

When really it's a question of want, and not how, and letting go of Yuri is the very last thing he wants to do, now that he has him, but can he really be blamed? After the last two years, and eight months, is there anyone who would blame him, if they were in his situation?

Yuri on his lap, annoyed but not at him. Yuri leaning down to kiss his mouth, because Victor wanted him to. Yuri's hands spreading over more of his back, his shoulders, the back of his neck, where Yuri's thumb against his bare skin makes him shake like he'd stepped outside, buck naked and soaked to the bone, into St. Petersburg's coldest winter night.

Yuri who wants him, back. And just how is he ever supposed to get used to that thought, that new reality? When did it happen? Has it always been there? Was he wrong, after all, all those months ago?

His hand coming up to brush the back of his knuckles over Yuri's jaw, his cheek, his ear, before fingers slip into just barely damp hair, and he's still not sure how to even begin believing all this is real, but this is the best start he knows.

Date: 2017-04-23 04:01 am (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by me (and love like fools?)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp
Without the gel, Yuri's hair falls over his forehead in shaggy, unstudied bangs, and his glasses block off his eyes. This t-shirt is soft, but doesn't fit especially well, and the room smells like the food they'd just been eating.

None of this the sleek seduction of Eros, and yet for some reason, it feels like the only thing Victor has ever wanted.

This shy Japanese boy in his lap, head tipping into his touch, after spending nearly two years being totally unaffected by every one of Victor's charms and attempts in a way no one they were ever directed at has, and he wants to know when that changed. Was it just tonight? Has this been here the whole time? Or was it sometime in between? He wants to ask it all, has a million and one questions about what Yuri's feeling, how he's feeling, why he's feeling it, when it all shifted and turned into this.

Where that outburst from the garage came from, and yesterday's demand for Victor's full attention before he hit the ice. He wants to know it all and more.

(How much of this wait was because he never called, or came to Japan, until just this last spring?)

How did he go from running away from Victor's touch to leaning into it, eyes gone half-lidded and dopey, like a touch-starved cat? "When did this happen?"

How. Why. How long could he have had this, if he'd just known?

He is all wonder and wistfulness, even as his fingers tug lightly through Yuri's hair and run along his scalp. "I thought you didn't want me like this."

It's only a little bit of a falsehood. He had thought it, and then he didn't, and then there was nothing but copious proof that Yuri didn't, and now there's this, and he would really like to know just how right or wrong he has been this whole time.

Not that it matters, really. Now, with Yuri in his arms, looking at him with this intent focus, wrapped around him, it barely seems like a wait at all.

Date: 2017-04-23 11:31 am (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by me (let's go to the ocean)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp
His hands drops from Yuri's hair to his shoulder when Yuri sits back, but that's as far as Yuri goes, so Victor focuses on trying to follow along as Yuri starts and stops and contradicts himself. Trying not to smile too much at that last grumbled toss of his hands in the air, because there isn't a right word. Searching for some subtlety in Japanese that doesn't exist in the English they both have to use, and winding up confusing both.

Different, but not different. New, but not new. This is different and new. (Obviously.) For Yuri, who has never so much as kissed someone before. Who has probably never been this physically close to someone before, maybe the same way Victor has never been this close to anyone before, in any way and every way it counts.

It's probably as much of an answer as it isn't. It changed, but it didn't. Either Yuri doesn't have the words, or he doesn't know, or it's some combination of both, but does it really matter? He wants to know, but does it really matter? He has Yuri here now. Like this. Looking at him like that, and leaning heavy into his touch, and that's enough, more than. He doesn't really need to try and dissect it all right now, or trace the patten of how they got here, does he?

But the last time he tried to give Yuri an out, he was scolded, told don't do that, so he should ... what. Find some response. Maybe look for something that will convince Yuri it's all right if he doesn't know, or even if this is too brand new to clarify.

It's still here, and that's the important thing. "Different, and not different."

Maybe not as sudden as he'd thought, but not as long-lived as he'd wondered. Which explains this last eight months, maybe, but not the banquet.

Unless it does, and he was right back then, and Yuri just didn't care at all.

But that all feels so long ago, and he leans to press a light kiss to one side of Yuri's neck, and then the other, smiling against his skin and when he pulls back to watch Yuri's face again. "Language is clumsy."

Easier to do this. Easier to find it on the ice.

Date: 2017-04-23 01:16 pm (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by plastic (catch the last weekend of the last week)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp
Whatever answer Yuri was searching for, he doesn't seem to find it, just sighs like he can see whatever it is, but it's just out of reach, and probably Victor shouldn't find that so endearing, but he does. Like he finds that shiver that scuttles across Yuri's skin endearing, and that pink flush on his cheeks, and the haphazard way his hair is drying, and the fact that he's still wearing his glasses, and he can't help feeling that language is a blunt and clumsy tool, too, because it's the only word he can think of to describe this sensation. Endearing. Cute, even, although Yuri might hate that. The fact that Yuri can be this adorable, tripping over words and growing slowly braver with touches that are still clumsy but as determined as any attempt at a jump or step sequence, when only yesterday he was melting the ice with Eros, and today ––

Victor doesn't know how one person can be so many things. It's endlessly fascinating, in a way that would probably make Yuri blush even harder and mumble even more incomprehensibly, which would in turn only charm Victor even further, so not matter what he does, he's doomed.

All of these last months making things even worse, until he'd lost the reins on it completely. If he'd known, if it had been like this back home in St. Petersburg, how could he have ever survived? Even Stay Close to Me doesn't seem right anymore, isn't enough. He's not sure there's a close that's close enough.

But this is a start. This is the best possible way to sit, even if Yuri is heavier than he looks and there's still a tray sitting precariously on the mattress over there that he'll have to keep in mind or risk destroying when he forgets.

Which he will, because Yuri is on his lap and Yuri keeps making those addictive sounds and touching him, and Victor is only human. "Well, it's this way now." The backs of his fingers finding Yuri's cheek and jaw, and how impossible is it that he can, that he's allowed, that it's wanted? He hopes the novelty never wears off. "That's all that matters."

Date: 2017-04-24 01:02 am (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by me (what are you talking about?)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp
Yuri keeps listing towards every tiny touch in a way that makes Victor feel like the one losing his footing. It's impossibly charming, and it makes that ache in his chest tighten a few more turns every time it happens. Yuri, who not that long ago would have bolted across the room, and potentially directly through the wall to the hallway without bothering with opening the door first and using it as intended, leaning into his hand. His touch. Him.

"You look lost in thought."

He does, but it's only part of whatever this look on Yuri's face is, and the rest is nothing he thinks he should poke or prod at too sharply, when this whole evening has been a balancing act of hauling himself back from pushing for too much, too fast, while Yuri slingshots between something like panic and that sudden boldness that made him push up into Victor a few moments ago, stealing his hands and his head and his kisses.

So he shouldn't poke, or prod. Not when Yuri can't find the right words to say when this changed, or even if it changed, and looked so annoyed with himself for the lack of correct vocabulary.

But he does coax. Does put his head to one side to smile winsome and warm, while his hand settles against Yuri's neck, and the other traces down to the small of Yuri's back. "What are you thinking about?"

Date: 2017-04-24 06:05 pm (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by me (in search of silver linings)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp
"Oh?"

Yuri looks so determined that he can't, but Victor wants to fawn all over this adorable wrinkle in his forehead and the firmed corners of his mouth. It's just so cute, this focus on getting it right, on finding whatever answer it is he thinks Victor is requiring, or whatever answer he's requiring of himself. "That's a lot."

Not that he can talk about the complications of the Japanese language, when Russian is notoriously difficult ... even, occasionally for native speakers, but Japanese does seem to have an extreme amount of rules and specificity. He's not certain why it's coming up right now, but at least he feels he can safely comment on the complicated nature of Japanese. What little he's picked up from living in Hasetsu has been specific to both situation and person, and he won't pretend he has anything more than a child's grasp of grammar and meaning. The honorifics still confuse him, and so do the variations on seemingly simple terms.

Referring to yourself, for example.

But he can listen attentively when Yuri is trying to make a point about it, or with it, because he is has always been a superlatively polite person, and also because he finds it genuinely interesting, if unexpected.

(Though he does hope it connects somewhere to something he understands.)

Date: 2017-04-24 09:37 pm (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by me (you ain't gotta be scared)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp
He's not sure he understands. This ... what? In both what? This reference Yuri is making to himself? In both ... situations? If this situation one of them, what's the other? It's difficult to follow, but he's not sure now is the time to ask clarifying questions. Not when Yuri's hand is careful on top of his, sending a wave of warmth scudding up his forearm and down along his back, and he looks so serious.

Solemn, maybe. Earnest. Like if Victor took any of this too lightly, he'd crack right in half and clam up, never to speak again, never to touch Victor with this so careful, so gentle hand, cool fingers and soft skin. Saying this. Hand over Victor's hand. Meaning ... maybe ... Victor touching him? The situation that made this touch possible?

There's a pause that makes him wonder if he's supposed to respond, if he should know what to say, or ask, or do, and he's racking his brain before Yuri's hand lifts again, and lands on his own chest, over his heart. This.

A this that is easy to recognize, even if Victor still isn't sure what the difference is meant to be, but he knows this. This feeling in his own chest expanding, trying to crack through ribs to reach Yuri's hand, to say I know, I know, me too. This sharp and sweet and too painful thing that has kept him up and pulled him down and dragged him halfway across the world because it could never be satisfied.

He doesn't know if Yuri means love or if Yuri means heart or if Yuri means the secret inner workings of themselves, that makes them themselves, that they mine for programs and carve out onto the ice and offer up to the love and judgment and hands of the people watching them ––

But maybe it doesn't matter.

His own hand lifting from Yuri's neck a moment later, to land over the hand on Yuri's chest, longer fingers wrapping lightly around Yuri's palm. "Is this ––"

Index finger tapping on Yuri's chest, light. "–– the one you mean?"

Date: 2017-04-25 03:39 am (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by cherrytini (it's almost like a marriage proposal)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp
Yuri's fingers wrap around his hand and he nods, without finishing his sentence, and Victor still thinks they might be having two different conversations, but he's not sure they aren't heading towards the same conclusion.

Either way, his smile turns gentle, palm warm and steady over the back of Yuri's hand, the both of them protective over Yuri's heart. "Different, but not different?"

That's not how it worked for him. There was nothing, and then there was everything, and his whole world turned on an instant and on a single touch, a single glance, a single hour. One of thousands. Millions. And even though things have changed since then, since this spring, he's not sure it would count as feeling the same, but different, regardless of how he references himself.

But maybe not. There's a slight wistful tinge to the corners of his smile, even as his fingers tuck themselves under Yuri's, and his thumb runs along the back of Yuri's wrist. "I don't know if I completely understand."

He doesn't. But. "But I know this."

Tapping on Yuri's chest again, because he can't lean down to place a kiss there, over the I that Yuri meant, that doesn't fit into English and probably wouldn't into Russian, either. To him, the self is all once complicated organism, inner and outer, superficial and complex, mundane and sublime. He's always found his feelings as friends, or sometimes as hurtful enemies, but always recognizable, always familiar.

(Even if he hasn't always wanted to accept it right away.)

But he knows the sensation. The feeling of a separate self, a wayward idealist living in his chest and masquerading as his heart. And he knows the words are difficult to find, even in the tongue he grew up with.

Date: 2017-04-25 11:55 am (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by plastic (catch the last weekend of the last week)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp
No, Yuri says, and it takes a second before the impact of that single word fully registers. No, this hasn't changed. No, this part doesn't feel different.

So Yuri's felt like this ... here, in the center of himself ... for how long?

Since the start? Victor's not sure he believes that, entirely, given what did and didn't happen over that first year and a half, or even when he first came to Hasetsu. Yuri hadn't looked like his heart was giving him any trouble then, except in the sense that it might have been dismayed by the amount of physical labor it suddenly had to do.

Even if there were some times when Victor caught him looking over, a strange and uncertain look on his face. Something that went along with I've always looked up to you and I didn't want you to see my shortcomings, but not this. Not the way Yuri was just pushed against him, or how he's settled on Victor now, or how his cheeks keep going pink but his eyes are shining, the way they sometimes do when he can't find the words but is filled with something, an idea he can't describe or wants to keep close to himself.

But he's saying it isn't different. This. And Victor's trying to understand, because Yuri is trying to tell him something. Answer that question that feels unimportant now, even if it felt so all-consuming only moments ago, and probably will again later, when Yuri isn't right here, physical proof that things have changed. "What does?"

If this isn't different. But he'd said something was, too.

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theglassheart: [ Fanart ] : { Google Images } (Default)
勝生 勇利, Katsuki Yūri

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