cigarettes // yuri on ice

q.

That night when Yuri was supposed to be asleep for work tomorrow, he waited by his cell phone anxiously for a text from someone.

A someone who might or might not of had different ideas in mind.

This particular someone sat on his couch, petting his dog. It was all he had left. He often talked to the dog, and sometimes felt crazy for it, but other times he liked to believe he could really understand what he was saying- but more than understand, he thought Makkachin could listen; and that's why he spoke to him so often.

"Why do you think he gave me his number? Does he want to hook up? Does he really want to talk? How do I know I can trust him? Fuck- scratch that, he can't trust me."

The man's eyes darted back to his dog, then at his TV he was trying to watch, but ended up always figeting around or being too nervous to pay attention.

"He can't start to trust me and get used to me." He rambled on.