Victor's doesn't even answer the question. Victor just laughs at Yuri's question and asks his own question. Like he's laughing at his own joke before the words are fully formed, leaving him asking it all amused and innocent of anything so much as being drunk enough Yuri had to half carry him here, and then wasn't even allowed to leave his bed.
Which just tastes sour to hear, and makes his teeth meet, and reminds him, sideways, that his mouth is actually kind of sour, and he wants to brush his teeth at some not too distant point. Another thing he hadn't gotten to do last night. Which turned out to be absolutely everything he could have ever wanted or expected to do.
That all gets thrown under the bus again when Victor mentions practice.
His heart contracting with recognition. Morning. Day. The China Cup. The Prix Qualifier. Catching him maybe liked he'd fallen off the bed, except he's sitting still. (He's had far experience with that feeling lately, hasn't he?) Practice, and then, Eros. (Tomorrow Yuri on Ice, no matter how well or terribly today goes.) With everyone else. With everyone watching. With. But. Away from here. This room, and this bed. Victor said something about breakfast, and before, but all Yuri suddenly wants is to be there. To be on the ice. To feel the bite on his cheeks, the weight on his feet, the air whistling.
(To be allowed to run. Just from here to the rink. Now. Instead of eating. Or sleep. Even though it's probably fully impossible by this point already.
Sunlight thick in the room. Catching on Victor's hair, and his shoulders. Adding the faintest shadows to his face while he's smiling.
... why does he have to notice now?)
"良い." Yuri drove his fingers up into his hair, itching his fingertips and clipped nails against his scalp, trying to push back something, but not sure what it was or which. He just needed a moment. He needed to think straight. He-- "I should shower. Unless you--" He left it as an opening, eyes shifting over to Victor, kicking himself as he did. Making it an option. Wanting to know. If Victor wanted or needed anything first. Of him, of the bathroom. If he needed to use it, or wanted to go first.
no subject
Which just tastes sour to hear, and makes his teeth meet, and reminds him, sideways, that his mouth is actually kind of sour, and he wants to brush his teeth at some not too distant point. Another thing he hadn't gotten to do last night. Which turned out to be absolutely everything he could have ever wanted or expected to do.
That all gets thrown under the bus again when Victor mentions practice.
His heart contracting with recognition. Morning. Day. The China Cup. The Prix Qualifier. Catching him maybe liked he'd fallen off the bed, except he's sitting still. (He's had far experience with that feeling lately, hasn't he?) Practice, and then, Eros. (Tomorrow Yuri on Ice, no matter how well or terribly today goes.) With everyone else. With everyone watching. With. But. Away from here. This room, and this bed. Victor said something about breakfast, and before, but all Yuri suddenly wants is to be there. To be on the ice. To feel the bite on his cheeks, the weight on his feet, the air whistling.
(To be allowed to run. Just from here to the rink. Now. Instead of eating.
Or sleep. Even though it's probably fully impossible by this point already.
Sunlight thick in the room. Catching on Victor's hair, and his shoulders.
Adding the faintest shadows to his face while he's smiling.
... why does he have to notice now?)
"良い." Yuri drove his fingers up into his hair, itching his fingertips and clipped nails against his scalp, trying to push back something, but not sure what it was or which. He just needed a moment. He needed to think straight. He-- "I should shower. Unless you--" He left it as an opening, eyes shifting over to Victor, kicking himself as he did. Making it an option. Wanting to know. If Victor wanted or needed anything first. Of him, of the bathroom. If he needed to use it, or wanted to go first.