cigarettes // yuri on ice

m

"Closer than before." He remarked before taking Yuri's hand and pulling himself up.

Yuri's grip faltered as he took a sharp inhale of breathe. The other man had such rough hands.. they felt uncomfortable and misplaced with Yuri's soft chubby ones.

"I-I'm sorry did I do something?" He said.

"No, it's just your hands. Why are they so rough?"

"Oh, that." He did something with his face that Yuri assumed was a smile, but again, he couldn't see. The blackness that surrounded them was like a wall, keeping the two from meeting. Instead, Yuri still thought of this as talking to a stranger that somehow got Yuri intrigued in him.

Maybe it was the fact that he was only a voice, not yet attached to a face he can trust.

Maybe that's what kept him on edge.

Maybe he liked all the mysteries that lay in the Russian's character; mysteries he fantasized about knowing.