It's barely a moment Yuri watches his walk away. Maybe not enough to be worth counting. Still it's enough to watch Yurio go back to decisive and decided on what is happening and where, to watch him walk more quickly away. Back to those seats. Back to snatching his phone off the bar top like someone might have almost come by and lifted it.
Yuri's not far behind -- and he doesn't look, even if he feels the distance between himself and the door, in the same strange but reflective distance growing behind but closing between himself and the seat (Yurio). He takes his seat back, quietly, even as the new bowls are appearing. They look more official and it almost makes it hard to swallow for a second. Like he's made some certain decision about where he's having dinner. Or the bar has.
Which isn't true, isn't it?
( ... but isn't entirely untrue, if he could have gone and chose to stay, too ... )
There's silence at their bar end. Nowhere else in this room seems truly built for silence. Silence, at their end, while Yuri looks at the nicer dishes, even still small, and the chopsticks, that are more professional and less generic now. Even simple, almost forgotten by every other location, chopstick rests, in their places. Yuri's not sure why that simple, complete image sinks something deeper in his stomach.
He reaches out for one of the sets and one of the bowls, thinking there's really no way to start but starting, is there? Yuri tried to unstick his throat, his lingering surprise still dragging from the door. The continually trying to fit that second into anything before it. He has to clear his throat awkwardly, maybe as a necessity to both make his throat work and to make his mind focus even just a little more.
"Unlike the rice, you go for moderation more with noodles. You aim for only a little." Yuri made an example with the chopsticks he'd claimed. Moving the vegetables to the side to get to the noodles first. Lifting only a few. "Smaller is the key. Even smaller than you think, because you have to be able to hold on while you--" Yuri shook his hand holding the chopsticks and noodles gently as he started to pull his arm back and up, gently untangling the noodles he'd claimed from the whole bundle of them.
The sentences hung there as the noodles continued to stretch and slide, but were steadily pulling free.
no subject
Yuri's not far behind -- and he doesn't look, even if he feels the distance between himself and the door, in the same strange but reflective distance growing behind but closing between himself and the seat (Yurio). He takes his seat back, quietly, even as the new bowls are appearing. They look more official and it almost makes it hard to swallow for a second. Like he's made some certain decision about where he's having dinner. Or the bar has.
Which isn't true, isn't it?
There's silence at their bar end. Nowhere else in this room seems truly built for silence. Silence, at their end, while Yuri looks at the nicer dishes, even still small, and the chopsticks, that are more professional and less generic now. Even simple, almost forgotten by every other location, chopstick rests, in their places. Yuri's not sure why that simple, complete image sinks something deeper in his stomach.
He reaches out for one of the sets and one of the bowls, thinking there's really no way to start but starting, is there? Yuri tried to unstick his throat, his lingering surprise still dragging from the door. The continually trying to fit that second into anything before it. He has to clear his throat awkwardly, maybe as a necessity to both make his throat work and to make his mind focus even just a little more.
"Unlike the rice, you go for moderation more with noodles. You aim for only a little." Yuri made an example with the chopsticks he'd claimed. Moving the vegetables to the side to get to the noodles first. Lifting only a few. "Smaller is the key. Even smaller than you think, because you have to be able to hold on while you--" Yuri shook his hand holding the chopsticks and noodles gently as he started to pull his arm back and up, gently untangling the noodles he'd claimed from the whole bundle of them.
The sentences hung there as the noodles continued to stretch and slide, but were steadily pulling free.