It's more like the boulder sitting on everything he is forces him down, with just as much warning or say as Victor dragging him on the bed and keeping him there.
Into the black that swallows him whole and drowns him down and down and down. Taking him out and away, even as nothing finds peace, or peaceful. It's shifts and flows. Backness giving way to something too bright. A golden room, and empty dwarfing space, with no people. Until there are. People, he can't see. He just knows they are there when Victor is.
Suddenly in front of him, looking down at him from such a close distance, everything swaying as fingers catch his chin, and the pad of Victor's thumb brushes his bottom lip, lingering hot and promising, like a claim, against his skin. Luminous brilliance in those eyes, something important vaults upward through him even as the world goes dazzlingly sideways when his name forms on those lips, and they open again, and he knows the question is coming, the question he has to answer, already answered, never got to answer, can't not answer --
-- and he blinks, into sudden darkness,
feverish agonizing need blinding everything for a too long second, the taste of something sharp, dry and almost sweet parching his throat,
as he's pushed again, his shoulder, and he looks over to find Victor (... oh ...), half-asleep (... right .), ordering him for blankets and leashing his wrist, like a pet or a child. Like. Yuri can't. He can't even think. His head is a cataclysm of gold dust and music? was there music? and .... something. Something too big for his first seconds of groggy confusion, for the skew of his glass he forgot to even take off.
When he's pushing them straight, and focusing through the darkness, to pull at the blankets, half muddled at the end, half of them, in a way that makes him feel like he's the drunken one here. Reaching for. Not the blankets, not even when his one free hand is on them. But. There was something, wasn't there? There was a question, someone had asked him a question, one that seemed to have faded from his mind before it could even form.
But it still sat there. Frantic. Agonizing. Need. Like a bird was suddenly stuck in his chest. Flapping into the bars of his ribs, never stopping.
His body that felt confused, felt run over, felt used up.
Flickers of Victor's face, tugging at him from the blur, bursting into clear color.
Making him throw himself back to the pillow he'd found at some point, still dazed, dragging the blanket up his own body awkwardly. Victor could help himself to the blanket at this point if he wanted it. Since he was helping himself to everything else. Yuri's night, and Yuri's sleep, and Yuri's dreams, and couldn't he not-have one of those dreams while he was in Victor's bed and unable to leave it. Couldn't something just go right for him tonight?
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It's more like the boulder sitting on everything he is forces him down,
with just as much warning or say as Victor dragging him on the bed and keeping him there.
Into the black that swallows him whole and drowns him down and down and down. Taking him out and away, even as nothing finds peace, or peaceful. It's shifts and flows. Backness giving way to something too bright. A golden room, and empty dwarfing space, with no people. Until there are. People, he can't see. He just knows they are there when Victor is.
Suddenly in front of him, looking down at him from such a close distance, everything swaying as fingers catch his chin, and the pad of Victor's thumb brushes his bottom lip, lingering hot and promising, like a claim, against his skin. Luminous brilliance in those eyes, something important vaults upward through him even as the world goes dazzlingly sideways when his name forms on those lips, and they open again, and he knows the question is coming, the question he has to answer, already answered, never got to answer, can't not answer --
-- and he blinks, into sudden darkness,
feverish agonizing need blinding everything for a too long second,
the taste of something sharp, dry and almost sweet parching his throat,
as he's pushed again, his shoulder, and he looks over to find Victor (... oh ...), half-asleep (... right .), ordering him for blankets and leashing his wrist, like a pet or a child. Like. Yuri can't. He can't even think. His head is a cataclysm of gold dust and music? was there music? and .... something. Something too big for his first seconds of groggy confusion, for the skew of his glass he forgot to even take off.
When he's pushing them straight, and focusing through the darkness, to pull at the blankets, half muddled at the end, half of them, in a way that makes him feel like he's the drunken one here. Reaching for. Not the blankets, not even when his one free hand is on them. But. There was something, wasn't there? There was a question, someone had asked him a question, one that seemed to have faded from his mind before it could even form.
But it still sat there.
Frantic. Agonizing. Need.
Like a bird was suddenly stuck in his chest.
Flapping into the bars of his ribs, never stopping.
His body that felt confused, felt run over, felt used up.
Flickers of Victor's face, tugging at him from the blur, bursting into clear color.
Making him throw himself back to the pillow he'd found at some point, still dazed, dragging the blanket up his own body awkwardly. Victor could help himself to the blanket at this point if he wanted it. Since he was helping himself to everything else. Yuri's night, and Yuri's sleep, and Yuri's dreams, and couldn't he not-have one of those dreams while he was in Victor's bed and unable to leave it. Couldn't something just go right for him tonight?