Yuri tenses, with the smallest of bobbles, when the hand comes down on his shoulder, and he looks over, again, almost stumbling. Which only makes manifold his embarrassment and, apparent, uselessness. Victor should not be comforting him.
Except even with that thought doing it's best to imitate a wall slamming into his face repeatedly, it doesn't hold up in looking over at Victor. Victor's expression that looks not quite shattered, but dazed at least, and Yuri has to wonder if it's not for that, then. When the hand stays at his shoulder as they hurry, and it's nothing like the hug at the end of his skate, or the shoulder in the Kiss n' Cry, or the over exuberance of which Victor throws himself on Yuri sometimes.
If it's nothing like anything else he could even beginning to compare it, because nothing like this has ever happened.
If it's for something, like ... comfort? Or desperation?
Which catches hard in Yuri's chest. Harder than the wall of his thoughts.
Makes him dizzy for a second with uncertainty and a need he has no clear words or thoughts to, it's just a sharp stab of a thing. That makes him want to hug Victor. Or take his hand. Or. Or something. He doesn't even know what. Any of those things on the list of inappropriate gestures Yuri wasn't even freely to doing in private. When things were calm. When the day had been good. When there was no reason not to, and there was no one watching.
That felt like a thick plate of glass. In front of him, and inside of him.
The not knowing what to do almost as damning as the number of people around watching them all. Whispering.
Where they're going isn't too far, and what he's asked to do is nothing compared to the rest. Especially with how clear it is that this is something that, apparently, happens often enough there's a very easy system for the routine of it. He can do it all well enough, whatever they need of him. No questions.
Gaze always finding its way back to Victor
(... and Yakov ... but mostly, only just short of always, Victor).
no subject
Except even with that thought doing it's best to imitate a wall slamming into his face repeatedly, it doesn't hold up in looking over at Victor. Victor's expression that looks not quite shattered, but dazed at least, and Yuri has to wonder if it's not for that, then. When the hand stays at his shoulder as they hurry, and it's nothing like the hug at the end of his skate, or the shoulder in the Kiss n' Cry, or the over exuberance of which Victor throws himself on Yuri sometimes.
If it's nothing like anything else he could even beginning to compare it, because nothing like this has ever happened.
If it's for something, like ... comfort? Or desperation?
Which catches hard in Yuri's chest.
Harder than the wall of his thoughts.
Makes him dizzy for a second with uncertainty and a need he has no clear words or thoughts to, it's just a sharp stab of a thing. That makes him want to hug Victor. Or take his hand. Or. Or something. He doesn't even know what. Any of those things on the list of inappropriate gestures Yuri wasn't even freely to doing in private. When things were calm. When the day had been good. When there was no reason not to, and there was no one watching.
That felt like a thick plate of glass. In front of him, and inside of him.
The not knowing what to do almost as damning as the number of people around watching them all. Whispering.
Where they're going isn't too far, and what he's asked to do is nothing compared to the rest. Especially with how clear it is that this is something that, apparently, happens often enough there's a very easy system for the routine of it. He can do it all well enough, whatever they need of him. No questions.
Gaze always finding its way back to Victor
(... and Yakov ... but mostly, only just short of always, Victor).