"Victor? Victor?" Except Victor isn't really listening to him, hasn't been listening to him for the last twenty or thirty seconds. Hasn't really said anything since those two words, and looked a little more ashen when he got out of the elevator than when he got in. Hasn't really done more than stare down at him since Yuri shifted him to the newest wall, besides their door, to get the keycard.
The one Victor isn't giving up, because Victor seems to have given up even confusing responses for none. Except without looking away from Yuri, like somehow he's become a spotlight Victor's eyes keep following.
He should have remembered his own card. He should have, but he'd been so focused on getting to the rink and knowing the other skaters and coaches might be there, and interviews were likely for him, too, once he made an appearance, and he'd never thought about it, not even when changing for dinner. Assumed Victor had to have it, along with the arrangements to get everything up here before them.
He'd never thought this was where he'd be on the opposite side of the day. Saying Victor's name to no response, after asking more than once and explaining that it was necessary to get inside. To the bed, and water, and ... everything else.
Leaving him looking nervously, and maybe even almost a little annoyed, at the empty long stretch of hallways both ways, and he could go back down to the lobby and request another, but that would involve either dragging Victor, the now-not-talking, back down with him, or leaving him here, which seemed an even worse idea given his state ... and he had to have it on him, right?
Even if he couldn't be helpful about where. Leaving him looking at Victor in front of him.
"Okay, so we're just going to have to--" Yuri had to do this before that thought of doing it caught up with his stomach any harder than it already had, with a scriggle of a hand through his hair, only mussing it up, before taking a step in, hands raised a little wardingly at first, like a sign that he didn't mean any harm, even as he had to drop them, setting closer into Victor's space, to try his jacket pockets.
Which has exactly .... nothing in them. Well. Not nothing. But nothing helpful. There's nothing about chapstick that's going to help him get them inside.
He really doesn't want to think about what that means, but he's stumped by it all the same for a moment. Eyes going from the top of Victor's jacket to the bottom of it, and he's positive his neck is already too warm. He really should have planned better. He was never going to go anywhere without a room card now. Maybe he'd even sleep with his tonight now. There's nothing to do but go for it though.
He tries really hard not to think about it (but he's failing). His fingers aren't entirely steady, but he gets the jacket open, and there's a shift and the something that tries very hard not to be a squeak of, "Gomen, gomen," before he's trying to pat Victor's pockets, in the most unhelpful fashion, that basically almost avoids touching (Victor, Victor's pants, those pockets on him) almost at all at first. Which is. He knows. Idiotic. He just. He's. Victor's.
There's a gulp, before forcing himself to curl his fingers around the edges and into those pants pockets (his ears must be blistering).
no subject
The one Victor isn't giving up, because Victor seems to have given up even confusing responses for none.
Except without looking away from Yuri, like somehow he's become a spotlight Victor's eyes keep following.
He should have remembered his own card. He should have, but he'd been so focused on getting to the rink and knowing the other skaters and coaches might be there, and interviews were likely for him, too, once he made an appearance, and he'd never thought about it, not even when changing for dinner. Assumed Victor had to have it, along with the arrangements to get everything up here before them.
He'd never thought this was where he'd be on the opposite side of the day. Saying Victor's name to no response, after asking more than once and explaining that it was necessary to get inside. To the bed, and water, and ... everything else.
Leaving him looking nervously, and maybe even almost a little annoyed, at the empty long stretch of hallways both ways, and he could go back down to the lobby and request another, but that would involve either dragging Victor, the now-not-talking, back down with him, or leaving him here, which seemed an even worse idea given his state ... and he had to have it on him, right?
Even if he couldn't be helpful about where. Leaving him looking at Victor in front of him.
"Okay, so we're just going to have to--" Yuri had to do this before that thought of doing it caught up with his stomach any harder than it already had, with a scriggle of a hand through his hair, only mussing it up, before taking a step in, hands raised a little wardingly at first, like a sign that he didn't mean any harm, even as he had to drop them, setting closer into Victor's space, to try his jacket pockets.
Which has exactly .... nothing in them. Well. Not nothing. But nothing helpful.
There's nothing about chapstick that's going to help him get them inside.
He really doesn't want to think about what that means, but he's stumped by it all the same for a moment. Eyes going from the top of Victor's jacket to the bottom of it, and he's positive his neck is already too warm. He really should have planned better. He was never going to go anywhere without a room card now. Maybe he'd even sleep with his tonight now. There's nothing to do but go for it though.
He tries really hard not to think about it (but he's failing). His fingers aren't entirely steady, but he gets the jacket open, and there's a shift and the something that tries very hard not to be a squeak of, "Gomen, gomen," before he's trying to pat Victor's pockets, in the most unhelpful fashion, that basically almost avoids touching (Victor, Victor's pants, those pockets on him) almost at all at first. Which is. He knows. Idiotic. He just. He's. Victor's.
There's a gulp, before forcing himself to curl his fingers around the edges and into those pants pockets (his ears must be blistering).