This is all fine and dandy and probably a historic triumph for international figure skating diplomacy or some shit, but it's getting them nowhere fast. 'Suppose I'd better open the door for you,' Yuri says with a sigh, as he starts to slide out of the booth. 'Or who knows where you'd end -- '
He has his eye on the door and one foot on the floor before the real implication of his statement catches up with him, so suddenly that it knocks the breath out of his lungs.
Even as his words die out in mid-sentence, his mind is already racing so fast that his head is spinning, because he knows exactly where Katsudon would end up. If Yuri had been desperate enough to succeed in finding the door to this place anywhere other than his bedroom in St. Petersburg, who's to say that it won't work the other way, for someone who was equally desperate -- even more desperate -- to be somewhere else? Why shouldn't the door open up onto one particular random storage closet in Yu-topia?
Katsudon could go home.
(Why the fuck hadn't this occurred to either of them earlier?)
It would make absolutely no sense for Katsudon to show up back in Hasetsu when he ought to be in Moscow, but does that even matter right now? The thought is overwhelming, almost frightening, and Yuri's sure that some of his uncertainty must show on his face as his gaze flicks from the door back to Katsudon. If it does, he's past the point of caring.
'The door,' he says, under his breath. It's the only way he can keep his voice under control. 'If I open it, it'll be the hotel. If you open it -- '
He doesn't even want to finish that thought. He's not sure what would be worse: if it didn't work, or if it did.
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He has his eye on the door and one foot on the floor before the real implication of his statement catches up with him, so suddenly that it knocks the breath out of his lungs.
Even as his words die out in mid-sentence, his mind is already racing so fast that his head is spinning, because he knows exactly where Katsudon would end up. If Yuri had been desperate enough to succeed in finding the door to this place anywhere other than his bedroom in St. Petersburg, who's to say that it won't work the other way, for someone who was equally desperate -- even more desperate -- to be somewhere else? Why shouldn't the door open up onto one particular random storage closet in Yu-topia?
Katsudon could go home.
(Why the fuck hadn't this occurred to either of them earlier?)
It would make absolutely no sense for Katsudon to show up back in Hasetsu when he ought to be in Moscow, but does that even matter right now? The thought is overwhelming, almost frightening, and Yuri's sure that some of his uncertainty must show on his face as his gaze flicks from the door back to Katsudon. If it does, he's past the point of caring.
'The door,' he says, under his breath. It's the only way he can keep his voice under control. 'If I open it, it'll be the hotel. If you open it -- '
He doesn't even want to finish that thought. He's not sure what would be worse: if it didn't work, or if it did.