The door clicks open only a few minutes later, and Victor comes in divesting himself of things pretty much the second he's crossed the threshold from the hallway to the room. He doesn't really have to respond to him name, because Victor's eyes find him bare seconds later, hand still holding the phone hovering over his chest and face.

( Three-quarters of a picture of Leo de la Iglesia with headphone cords dangling around his neck, caught in the middle of laughing, his hair caught in motion, on a couch somewhere. The caption and tags not skimmed yet. )

There are long hours in the day Yuri has to question the validity of his own mind, and it is a constant enough thing without reason, but there've been a lot of new reasons. It's not for granted. It's not expected. Even with something like odd consistent, but absolutely unbalance, Yuri still freezes when Victor's knee lands on the end of his bed. Which only shifts into a shiver when Victor's arm curls across his middle and his face pushes into Yuri's neck, letting out a very warm breath against so thin skin there.

It's a near thing, but he manages not to drop his phone.
Not on his face and not on Victor's head.

Movement isn't quite back, but he lowers his phone slowly and then his shoulders, stealing a sideways look at the wash of Victor's hair and the round of his shoulder at the edge of Yuri's vision more than any part of his face. "Tomorrow will longer."

Words that tangle up those coiled vines in his stomach tighter. Promising it.