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: 2017-05-10 01:37 pm (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by me (how you say my name)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp
This? Fine. Breathing. It almost makes him laugh again, at the sheer inaccuracy of it, but Yuri looks defensive as well as aggravated now, and he's fairly sure that right now would be a bad time to laugh.

(That's probably what Chris would tell him, anyway, and in this instance, Victor thinks he'd be right.)

But it is laughable. Not funny, but laughable, because however he might look, he is the furthest from fine he's ever been. Or the closest? He honestly can't tell anymore, his whole world has been tipped upside down and shaken around and now it feels like down is up and hot is cold because Yuri is lying here beneath him, hair rumpled from Victor's fingers and lips pinked from Victor's kisses and saying it looks like Victor can breathe just fine, when Victor's not even sure what he's breathing is air, and not fire. He's not even sure he's breathing at all, too distracted by the way Yuri's skin feels under his fingertips, soft and warm, too distracted by Yuri's weight against his arms, the rise and fall of his chest beneath Victor's. "I'm not."

That's so easy. Maybe the truest thing he could say. He's not fine. Not with breathing, or anything else. Not now that he finally has Yuri here, after so long. Not now that it isn't just him, the way he always thought it was.

He's not fine, when all he wants to do is loose that shaky hold he has on his own self-restraint, and let the room burn down around them. When he knows there's so much more, so much past this, everything and anything Yuri could possibly want. All the ways to rip the air from both of their lungs, and wipe this expression from Yuri's face. The want to hear him gone wrecked and breathless, when the only word he can even find is Victor's name, and there's no room for any of this questioning.

Everything he wanted that night. Everything he put into Eros, pleasure after pleasure. Everything he ever dreamed about, fantasized, wished for.

Everything he can't do, because this is the first time Yuri has ever even been kissed, and Victor is thoughtless, and selfish, and impetuous, impulsive, but even Victor knows he can't just storm him with everything that's on offer, everything he could ever possibly ask for or imagine. He won't trade one night of perfection for the ruin of everything after.

And it would. Ruin everything. Even he knows that, knows that pushing Yuri too far now would mean wrecking everything once Yuri caught his breath and mind again, feet back on the ground, cold realization seeping through the steam and haze. "I've lost my mind." Did, long ago. Continued to do so in a very public fashion, when he dropped everything to come to Japan for someone he met once for only a few hours and had barely spoken to.

His mouth is dry and his heart is still racing; he swallows to try and find some normalcy, but the breath he lets out shakes, half with a laugh at himself, and half with the effort of just breathing. Normally. As if he didn't have to order himself to try and make his lungs world. "I'm just trying not to lose control."

For better or worse, he's the one here with experience, and that means he has to let Yuri set whatever pace he wants, is comfortable with. Has to be able to haul himself back from just pushing for more, more, more, and ruining everything. Eyes traveling to Yuri's mouth, the so-appealing line of his throat, and it bowls him over, again. A wave of desire that he feels like a punch to the gut. "I want you too much."

A pause, before he's lifting his eyes to meet Yuri's again, his smile gone wry and self-deprecating. "I have to remember to stop before I go too far. I just want you to feel ..."

What's the word he wants? Fine. Happy. Wanted. Secure.

Bending to mouth along that line of his neck, gently, with a sigh that feels like a held breath. "Safe."

Date: 2017-05-11 03:47 am (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by cherrytini (something you won't have to think about)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp
He pauses at the crook of Yuri's shoulder, at those words. At Yuri's arm tightening around him, hand at the back of his head, and that strange tight quality to his voice, like he's upset and doesn't want to show it, or disagrees but doesn't want to argue.

His immediate reaction to push up and negate even the possibility of it ever happening. Hurt Yuri? Never doesn't seem like a strong enough word. The very idea horrifies him to his very core. Just seeing that look on Yuri's face, earlier, that guarded wariness like he suddenly didn't know what to expect, suddenly realized who he was in this room with, froze him straight down to his gut. It's impossible, ludicrous. He wants to dive straight into defensive agreement, say of course, and I would never, never.

But he can't, can he? Hadn't he, already, just today, proven that statement wrong?

Hadn't he opted to hurt Yuri in the garage? Hadn't he made the decision to crush Yuri's fragile heart, hadn't he done it on purpose?

Maybe it was with the intent of helping him in the long run. Maybe it was the first and only time he ever made that choice, opted for that decision. Maybe it will never happen again.

But he still did it.

Temple and cheek settling on the pillow Yuri's using, nose just brushing that curve where the line of his neck disappears into his shoulder. Does he even deserve the certainty in Yuri's voice? "I never want to hurt you."

That he can say, promise. He knows it would be impossible to say he'll never, not when he's such a flawed person and he makes so many mistakes, and he's made so many already, with Yuri, and even with the best of intentions he's likely to fail. But he never wants to. Not ever. Not if he can ever stop it. "Not on purpose, and not by accident, either."

Not just because he's being selfish, self-absorbed, thinking only of himself and what he wants. "I would never be able to forgive myself if I hurt you because I was being thoughtless."

Date: 2017-05-11 01:01 pm (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by me (Default)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp



The whole idea is unsettling. Hurting Yuri. Hurting Yuri without even realizing he was hurting Yuri, and potentially without even noticing until it's too late. Even today, he hadn't meant to hurt, only to release some of the pressure Yuri was under. He hadn't expected Yuri to crack, to start crying, to yell at him until his voice sounded hoarse. He hadn't meant it to be an attack.

(How can you say something like that, like you're testing me?)

The likelihood of it happening again giving him knots in his stomach, a frisson of ice skating across his skin and leaving him shivering. (Maybe Yakov was right. Maybe he was never going to be very good at this. Maybe if he can't be the right coach for Yuri, he can't do this, either.) All of it waves crashing against a stubborn, desperate rock of no, never, never in his head, while Yuri's arms tighten and he presses his face a little more closely to Yuri's neck.

Wanting to be closer. To wrap all the way around him. To promise only to protect, and never to hurt.

All he wants to do is love Yuri. It's a helpless thought, when there are so many ways it could go wrong, when he's already messed up more times than he can count just tonight, but he's powerless against it, can't breathe for it, can't remember anything else he used to care about. His career, his plans, his training, his team, his country, all tossed aside in the time it took to book a ticket to Japan and apply for a visa. (Thoughtless.)

And the only defense he has is: "I love you." Said soft into Yuri's skin, helpless and hopeless and absolute.

(He might be a fool, but at least he knows it.)

Date: 2017-05-13 03:33 am (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by me (ho paura di perderti)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp
This might have been a surprise a few hours ago, but now Yuri says he knows and that's probably true. Victor's told him, over and over again, nearly from the time he first arrived in Hasetsu. That's how I show my love. It's not something he's ever really hidden, or tried to hide, even once he had to set it aside to give Yuri what he wanted. It isn't a secret.

He loves Yuri, and he lost his mind and tracked Yuri down to be with him, and now he losing it all over again, because Yuri hasn't moved, except to hold him tighter, and the only thing in his head is an echoing sense of loss, edged with cold fear. The thought of not having this, of those months spent killing himself in practice at the Sports Palace until even Yakov told him to take a break. He never wants to feel that way again: lost and lonely and so angry he didn't know what to do with it. Angry at Yuri for disappearing, angry at himself for wanting him anyway long after it had stopped making any sort of sense to stay infatuated, to keep longing for something and someone he couldn't have.

To tempt all of that once again simply because he couldn't keep himself from being impatient and thoughtless and selfish tonight is a freezing, desperate thought. It makes him want to cling to Yuri like a child would to a teddy bear, wrap around him and refuse to let go. It makes him want to kiss Yuri again until they're both breathless and unthinking and he can't remember feeling this way, not tonight, and not months ago.

(He wants to pour it all out into the dimly lit air of this hotel room, lay it out here on the crisp white comforter of the bed, how he doesn't understand how his heart could be so full and feel so close to breaking at the same time.)

Yuri isn't going anywhere. He hasn't been scared away, and he hasn't fled from Victor at all even if he's looked uncomfortable or skeptical at various points in the evening. He's still lying here, letting Victor just try to be as close to him as he can get, his far hand sliding down under Yuri's shoulderblade to run palm and fingers over his side, his ribs, down to his waist, where it settles, warm and affectionate.

(He doesn't understand how it's possible to long for someone already under his touch, under his chest, whose skin is against his lips and the tip of his nose and whose arms are around him.

But that's how this feels.)

Puffing out a heavy breath, as he tries to relax his shoulders, his back, all the muscles that had decided to knot and aggravate him and each other, to pull himself back to this moment, here. The reality of Yuri against him. How long ago all the rest of that was.

Yuri, who loves him back. Wants him, back. Is holding onto him, had just been complaining that Victor didn't look like he was having trouble breathing or even just being, right now.

Yuri does all those things, so he doesn't need to long for it anymore, doesn't need to feel desperate. The bruise he's pressing on is an old one, even if it still aches. This is something new. "Good."

He should say something else, but it still feels raw, like he'd accidentally scratched off a scab and now that wound is free-bleeding again, and needs a few moments to clot over once more. "Then you should know you take my breath away all the time."

Not just tonight. Regardless of how he looked just now, that make Yuri make that face.

In the rink. Sitting at the beach. Talking over dinner. In the mornings, sleepy and mussed.

There are times he thinks he stopped breathing altogether, the first time he really saw Yuri.

Date: 2017-05-14 03:40 am (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by me (and love like fools?)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp
It's hard to say how long he would spend stuck in thoughts of last year, or even just last week, without being tugged out of them, but the answer is probably too long. it's all over and done with, and he won, in the end. So what does it matter?

Except it does. Matter. It matters that Yuri is here in his arms, after all these months, willing and wanting. It matters that he's finally had the chance to say what he feels, everything that's been in his head and heart for longer than he'd care to admit. It matters that he can touch Yuri, like this, now.

And it matters that Yuri touches him, back. That Yuri's fingers unfurl against the back of his neck, and he holds his breath for fear that doing even that much, even taking a breath, would scare him away, before the pad of Yuri's thumb is skating over his skin, sensitive at his hairline, being followed by goosebumps that vanish almost as soon as they disappear. "That feels good."

Yuri touching him. Yuri stroking him, the back of his neck, the edge of his hairline, right over the cluster of nerves that light up over and over again, every time Yuri's thumb slips over them, no matter how light. It feels good to have Yuri hold onto him. It feels good to have Yuri's chest beneath his, and Yuri's neck against his nose and mouth.

It feels good to have Yuri in a way he'd given up ever thinking was possible, and all that old wistfulness and longing gets brushed gently away, like cobwebs Yuri's banishing with the sweep of his fingers, the warmth of his skin, the pressure of his arms, and Victor sighs, a long and low and contented sound, into his neck.

(Is it strange to feel like he's being melted into a puddle of hot water, or molten chocolate, just at the faint brush of those fingers?

Is it that odd to feel dismantled and put back together again on a single touch?)

The sound he makes is one of low, humming contentment, as he shifts a little closer, hand at Yuri's waist tightening, moving up towards his ribs and down again, and he wonders how strange it might be to say that he hopes Yuri never stops touching him. Maybe ever.

Date: 2017-05-14 03:45 pm (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by cherrytini (what if we ruin it all?)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp
Yuri doesn't answer, which has not been an unusual occurrence tonight, but his thumb keeps lightly sweeping back and forth across that inch of skin in a way that feels a little like he's forgotten about it, is just mindlessly stroking back and forth more by instinct than intent.

(Is it strange for that possibility to make Victor smile with even greater contentment? Should it be?

Yuri is touching him, casually and constantly, just because he wants to. How could that mean anything but complete satisfaction?)

It makes him lift his head a little, near arm shifting so he can lean his cheek on his hand and look down into Yuri's face, other palm warm and fingers spread over Yuri's side. "You look tired."

Exhausted, really, and Victor isn't surprised. He hadn't slept last night, and hadn't napped this afternoon, and with the crash after the adrenaline rush of performance, it's amazing Yuri can keep his eyes open at all. There are faint bruises of purple and dark blue under his eyes, marring skin that looks too pale, shading eyes that look a little too glassy. Victor's thumb is gentle, when he lifts his hand from Yuri's waist to touch his temple, brush the mess of his hair out of his face and over his ear. "Close your eyes."

Rest. Get some sleep. Relax. Everything Victor might forget to tell him to do, because he's so focused on suddenly having Yuri here in his arms, saying he dreams about Victor, and wants Victor back. Yuri who is touching him. Yuri who is holding onto him.

There's so much more Victor wants to know and say, but it will have to wait, and it can. He's not sure Yuri's exhaustion could, even if Yuri wants it to. "You need to sleep."

Date: 2017-05-14 04:48 pm (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by me (actually you're both mediocre)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp
Yuri blinks sleep-muddled eyes at him and opens his mouth to answer but instead falls victim to a jaw-cracking yawn that is too adorable for words (or reason, probably: he doesn't understand why he finds it so endearing, but that could be true of everything about Yuri that continually trips him up and sends him spiralling into a cloud of adoring fascination), and Victor can't keep from smiling, indulgent and fond, at the words that stumble after it. "I don't want you to get up."

That would be beside the point. "I want you to get some sleep."

But he didn't mean anywhere else. Isn't that obvious? Yuri stayed with him that whole night after they went to get hotpot, and that was before any of this found its way into the air between them. Yuri is exhausted, and already falling asleep right here, and it doesn't make any kind of sense to banish him from this bed just for the sake of propriety. "Just stay here."

If he gets up to move to the other bed, Victor might just follow him, anyway. It's not rational, and it's probably not appropriate, and Yuri may still have some doubts about Victor's intentions, here, but all of that can be worked out tomorrow, can't it? He knows he won't be able to keep Yuri here every night, can't even remember having him here just two nights ago, but tonight is ... different. The first real night. The first time he's been able to do any of this. The first time he thought it might be an option.

The idea of letting Yuri go anywhere else, of letting go of him, is incomprehensible, and so he dismisses it out of turn. "I promise I'll just let you sleep. Just ..."

Settling his head on the pillow next to Yuri's, fingers slipping softly into that shock of black hair, to stroke through it in a slow and gentle rhythm. "Stay with me. Please."

Date: 2017-05-14 06:44 pm (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by cherrytini (sure!)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp
Yuri's giving in without even putting up an argument, so he must really be exhausted, and Victor's smile flickers as he watches the way those lashes drift down again as if holding his eyes open was too physically draining to maintain, and Yuri's head started to tip towards the fingers in his hair. It looks like he might just slip off to sleep now, without further comment, and Victor wouldn't be surprised if he did: it's been a long few days and not enough sleep for Yuri between them, bracketed by the stress and strain of competition.

He's honestly amazed Yuri made it this long.

But it's only a moment, before Yuri's eyes are blinking back open, and he's giving Victor a suspicious, if sleepy, look from beneath his lashes, and Victor has only just begun wondering if he should brace himself for a debate, before a thick and dopey voice makes that single demand. it makes Victor blink, wondering what he'd missed (again, when had he gotten them wrong before?), but when no other qualifications follow, his readiness evaporates into a widening smile. "Yes, I'll get them right. Do you want them?"

He doesn't want to move away from Yuri, but if Yuri wants the blankets –– and if that's the only qualification Yuri is putting on staying here, right here, with him –– then he will get Yuri blankets. He leans forward just far enough to press a kiss to Yuri's forehead, and pulls away, fingers slipping from Yuri's hair as he pushes himself up, and swings his legs towards the edge of the bed to start untucking the sheet and the fluffy white comforter over it, now dented from his bodyweight. "You'll just have to move for one second, so I can get them out from under you."

Taking the pause to pluck Yuri's glasses from the pillow and deposit them on the bedside table near his own phone, thinking he should turn out that lamp, too, and pull the curtains to keep the Shanghai lights from flooding in and keeping Yuri awake. "And then you can go straight to sleep, if you want."

He needs it. Maybe they both do.

Date: 2017-05-14 08:26 pm (UTC)
fivetimechamp: (*_*)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp



Yuri looks bewildered, but he shifts, tugging at the sheet and comforter from under the pillow he'd stolen, and slipping his bare feet and legs under them until he's sitting in a puddle of white bedding, looking like he can't remember what comes next, which is ironic, probably, because it only makes Victor forget what he was supposed to do next.

(It was close the curtains, but that's hardly important.)

All of it vanishing on a glance at Yuri, muddled in a soft white cloud of bedding, hair rumpled and glasses gone and looking so adorably bemused that Victor finds himself stepping back over before he's even realized his feet have moved, setting one knee on the bed to lean himself forward on both hands, one on either side of Yuri's hips. He feels like he's been whacked over the head with a pillow, or punted off the edge of a waterfall to plummet towards what he hopes isn't a large collection of razor-sharp rocks and drowning rapids.

Not that he has much say in the matter, when Yuri is this cute and he finds it irresistible, has to be touching him again, intent and beaming, to say: "how are you so cute, Yuri?"

Before leaning to cup his cheek with one hand and shifting closer to press a kiss to that bewildered mouth. Wanting to taste that warm, sweet, sleepy look on his face. Tempted to just wrap hs arms back around him, and drag him down into the soft nest of sheets until they both fall asleep, and no one is awake to worry about curtains or table lamps or fallen ice packs anymore.

Not sure, for a second, that that isn't exactly what he should do.

Date: 2017-05-15 02:13 am (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by me (Default)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp



He can't imagine he'll ever get over this. It's a ridiculous thing to think on night one, probably, because he's never known a novelty that hasn't worn off eventually and become usual, mundane, expected, but there's still that thought, burrowing its way into his hindbrain and curling up there:

That he can't imagine he ever get over this.

Yuri, leaning into his kiss, and returning it, just as soft and just as sweet, until it feels like Victor's heart is about to crack, it's so full. Yuri's forehead resting against his, warm and solid, while his eyes go heavy, dopey with exhaustion, but absolutely trusting. Every inch of him relaxed and tired, a little mussed, looking younger than his twenty-three years even without his glasses, puddled in a soft t-shirt and sheets, and Victor's hands go to his face while he smiles, all his other thoughts dropped without ceremony by the wayside. "Come on, Yuri. Lie down."

Shifting to settle his own long body on the mattress, and gently tugging Yuri down, with him, towards the pillow and the cloud of sheet and comforter, and Yuri can really lie on either, if he wants. The pillow, or Victor, himself, who can't quite remember why it was he was going to get up only a minute ago.

It doesn't seem important. Nothing does, aside from making sure Yuri gets settled in and has a chance to give up this losing battle he's trying to fight against sleep. Victor can finish up doing whatever it was he'd meant to do in a minute, once Yuri's dropped off. Until then, he has all the time in the world, and only one goal: get Yuri to sleep, the way he'd failed to earlier today. "Isn't it comfortable?"

Soft, warm, cozy. Not his own bed at home, but the next best approximation, and, well ––

This one has an added feature Yuri's little bed back in Hasetsu never had.

Date: 2017-05-15 03:18 am (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by niedola (content and conversational)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp
He goes down easy, too tired to argue, and too tired to do anything other than find the pillow and the blanket and settle himself into them, but he doesn't close his eyes the way Victor expects him to, even though it looks like he'll fall asleep any second. Every time his eyes start drooping, he refocuses, mouth tightening in that stubborn line Victor's learned to recognize as 'Yuri doesn't want to do something.'

Except he's not sure why Yuri wouldn't want to just relax and go to sleep. Not unless it's the same reason he doesn't want to close his eyes, and go to sleep: this uncertainty that all of this will have vanished in the night. That maybe it will all look and feel different in the light of day, after Yuri's finally had some rest and some time to distance himself from the competition and time to think and process.

That maybe he'll wake up, and decide he doesn't want this, after all.

It's the only thing Victor can think of, when Yuri's eyes are stubbornly locked on his face, even looking fuzzy and out of focus, more myopic by the second, each blink a little slower and harder, and it's such a strange, luminous feeling. Yuri, not wanting to take his eyes off of Victor, as much as the other way around.

The hand that isn't curled under his own pillow settling back in Yuri's hair again, fingers stroking through it lightly, slow and gentle, while Victor's voice goes low and coaxing. "Go to sleep, Yuri."

His arm looped over Yuri's, the pinky of that hand on the pillow by Yuri's head, long fingers and thumb in his hair, forearm lying close along his neck and back. "I promise nothing will have changed when you wake up."

It hasn't before now. One more night certainly isn't going to be the final straw.

Date: 2017-05-15 10:00 pm (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by cherrytini (what if we ruin it all?)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp
He waits until he's sure Yuri is asleep, breathing slow and even, a boneless lump beneath a cloud of bedding, before moving. Fingers slipping out of Yuri's hair, and just brushing against his cheek, before Victor is pushing up, carefully, trying to keep his weight from shifting the mattress too much and waking Yuri up.

Not that he's too worried about Yuri waking up. He went under so quickly and so completely that Victor's not sure even the hotel collapsing around him could toss him back into wakefulness. That's probably a good thing –– definitely for Yuri, and maybe even for Victor, too. It means he can get up, quietly, and move around the room, doing all those things he'd meant to do before. Close the drapes against the gleaming lights of Shanghai. Pad to the bathroom to use it and brush his teeth. Open the door a crack to hang a "Do Not Disturb" notice on the handle outside, along with the dry cleaning, because Yuri should sleep in, and maybe he should, too, even if his weariness has the electric buzz of exhaustion mixed with adrenaline, coating his nerves and keeping his eyes open, even as they feel more and more gritty, eyelids trying to stick closed.

So much has happened tonight.

(He kissed Yuri, and Yuri kissed him back.)

He doesn't know how to begin sorting through it all, or even if he should, but it feels strange and wonderful to sit back down on the empty side of that bed, and look over to see Yuri already there. Yuri, who won't be surprised to wake up and find Victor there in the morning. Yuri who agreed to stay, for the cost of being covered in a blanket. Yuri who has surprised him more in the last eight months than anyone else has managed throughout Victor's entire lifetime.

Yuri who he loves, with a helpless desperation that has him already wanting to reach back out, make sure he's real. Yuri who loves him back.

(How did this happen?)

It's going to be impossible to sleep, even once he turns out the lamp on the side table and the room is doused in darkness, so he reaches for his phone for the first time today, squinting at its bright screen until his eyes adjust. (To his side, Yuri is a ghostly shape in the dim glow, but every time Victor looks over, he solidifies into reality.) The screen is a solid mass of notification after notification, and he scrolls through them, only reading some here and there when Minako's name appears. Where have you gone? she demands in one, and, much further down: What the hell was with that flip???!?!

He grins to see them, flicks open the text box with her name at the top, and types a response, more than an hour after her last message. Wasn't he amazing? Yuri was tired so I took him back to the hotel. He's asleep. We'll see you in the morning!

No sooner sent than those three dots appear, furling and unfurling until they resolve into an annoyed gray bubble with the words WHAT WAS THAT ONE THE ICE YOU PERV??????!? that actually makes him laugh, before he glances at Yuri, guiltily, only to let out a relieved breath when he doesn't wake, and just sends Minako a series of emojis (😄😘🤐) before exiting the app and flicking open Instagram, where he spends a moment blinking at the number of notifications that have popped up. He's tagged in a surprising amount of posts ... or, not so surprising, when he opens one up and finds a short video of himself leaping to tackle Yuri to the ice. It's difficult to see what's happening, exactly, and that's probably why the poster commented with a caption asking I can't seeeeeee but WAS THIS A KISS @v-nikiforov 😱 I kinda think it was HOW DO I HANDLE THIS?!?!?!.

He only scrolls through a few comments (don't be stupid that's a hug, OMG, I ship it, my FAAAAVEE) before skipping to the bottom of the screen, where Add a comment offers him a clean, neat text box into which he can type he was so perfect I couldn't resist 😍😍😍 because, well –– it's true, isn't it?

The other posts he looks at are more of the same, and something comes over him as he scrolls through image after image of him tackling Yuri, kissing Yuri, standing next to Yuri looking like he's forgotten the rest of the world even exists, clips of articles breathlessly asking what their relationship is, topped by headers of photos of that moment on the ice when Yuri had blinked away his surprise and smiled up at him, and the world around him had vanished.

TBH I think they were secretly dating the whole time says one caption, to which he replies not yet! with a winky face, and they're just so cute I hope they stay together forever sobs another, and he has to respond (after looking over at the sleeping figure by his side for a long, long moment) with ME TOO, and he favorites just about every post that comes up.

And there are many. Articles, posts, pictures: he savors them all, as more and more notifications come rolling in. His comments are making some waves, but they're only the truth, as he writes in another comment beneath a photo of him and Yuri on the street in Shanghai on their way back to the hotel. The caption is only a breathless is this @v-nikiforov KISSING #katsukiyuri on the street in Shanghai OR AM I CRAZY???, and all he says in his comment is:

I think this photo shows everything clearly enough 😄

... which gets an astounding amount of likes, and that's gratifying. Just as gratifying is how many people agree with him when he posts 😍 under an incredible photo of Yuri mid-free skate, with a caption that says he's just so beautiful, because he is. Beautiful. On the ice, in that perfect costume, skating his perfect program ...but just as much here, now. Face shaded in the dark, slack and relaxed in sleep, and Victor has to put his phone away, finally, because as fun as it is to let the world know how he feels about Yuri, he doesn't really care what they think. What they know. What they wonder.

Has to set his phone back on the side table and slip a little further under the sheets to curl towards Yuri's warmth, a hand sneaking over the space between them to slide over Yuri's stomach, while Victor shifts close enough, nearly, to share that same pillow, but it's still a problem. Maybe even more so, now.

Not wanting to close his eyes, and sleep. Not wanting to give up even a single second of this, now that he has it.

Not wanting this to end, this perfect, warm, cocoon of silence, where they're the only two people who exist.

He's still thinking that, right up until the second when his eyes close without him even noticing, and he drifts off still in the middle of his single, repeating thought: that he doesn't want it ever to end.

Not ever again.

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

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