Stomach sinks the deepest darkest part of the ocean as he’s shot down again. Whatever offense he’s caused seems to have been the final nail in his coffin and for a brief and terrible moment it feels like his world is tilting, axle shifting to deposit him back into the cold depths of his loneliness where life and light were always just beyond the tips of his fingers. So close he can almost imagine their warmth. It strikes him at his very core and he draws in his bottom lip, staving off tears with the sting of his teeth in his own flesh.
A compromise? We could … go back to the room and watch a movie?
Elation! Hope! That light ever out of reach seems willing to reach back for him! Oh and even in the bitter cold of winter when his breath rises like the morning fog he can feel its warmth kissing his skin! Too thrilled perhaps for the situation at hand, Victor all but vaults the short distance between them to stoke that feeling of companionship again, his hand sliding into the curve of Yuri’s. He can excuse this one, he’s going to lead the skater back to their hotel! How else does one lead when their heart is full?
“Yes! I would love that! I’ll make hot chocolate and popcorn and we can cuddle with Makkachin!” Constricted lungs loosen their suffocating grip around his throat and he blinks back the sheen of tears building at the corners of his eyes. This is…a step at least. In the right direction. Maybe something like this, a warm intimacy, will help Yuri open up. Be willing to talk about what it is they… Hmm. Later, later, for now-! Tugging gently on that hand he’s practically power walking through the streets back to the safety of their hotel.
The enthusiasm was predictable, coming from Victor. But nonetheless adored. That void in his chest that felt like a dark spot suddenly swelled, into something frenetic and feverish. And happy.
Victor did that to him. Inspired an elation that felt preternaturally beautiful, that ran like a current under his skin, in circuits that never seemed to end. Only dim a little, from time to time. As his confidence did.
But this time confidence manifested as courage, and Yuri’s hand released Victor’s only for a moment, to regain them and tangle themselves within Victor’s slender fingers.
The hotel is blessedly warm, all muted golden shades enhanced by the warm tinge of lamplight. Yuri slips out of his coat, hangs it up in the closet with a carefulness borne of contemplation. Discards his shoes and puts them away, and crawls into his bed with a soft and secret smile.
Victor is his for the night. At least, his attention is. His company. At that’s really all he could ever ask for. Or want. “Here,” he calls quietly, patting the bed beside him. “Sit. You don’t have to do anything. I think I’m full from dinner, anyways, so hot chocolate and popcorn might be a little much. But I still want to watch a movie with you and have a cuddle.” His face flushes berry-red. “And Makkachin.”
He can’t believe he’s said that. So he laughs weakly and scratches the back of his neck. “Wh-what kind of movie, do you think? Something funny? A drama? I’m in the mood for anything.”
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