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And his brown eyes sparkle with gold every time he looks at Viktor. In the darkness of their living room, behind the frames of his glasses, his eyes sparkle with affection, a feeling so overwhelming one wonders how it’s possible to be this in love. And that feeling only seems to grow bigger, warmer, impossible to bear, but yet.
And some people say that, with time, affection tends to get less visible or even that it begins to fade, but it’s not the case with them, no. Because when it comes to them, every day feels like the first; every kiss tingles like the first; every gaze holds as much love as it did the first time they laid their eyes on each other.
And one would say it’s impossible to be this blinded by love, but it’s good and Viktor never wants this stop. Because if someday Yuuri would say he doesn’t love him anymore like he used to, he’s hundred percent sure he would die; his soul would crumble and his skin would turn to ashes, burned with the unreciprocated love. Because he can only live and get up every day because he’s here, with him, no matter how unforeseen it might seem to him. He’s here, he’s here, he’s here, with him, and he gets to see him sleeping at the other side of their bed, and he gets to see him wake up, nose all wrinkling in that overly cute manner, fingers twitching beside his face, eyes slowly opening and then crinkling at the corners in a private smile when he sees Viktor’s blurry face first thing in the morning.
And Viktor has no idea how he deserved all this, because he used to be miserable. Overweening, presumptuous and cold. And, most importantly, so, so alone. But now he is not. Because being with him, living with him, belonging to him makes one’s life so much easier; much more warmer, bearable. And every day Viktor thanks gods, heavens, for giving up their most precious and valuable of angels, and letting him spend his mortal life by Viktor’s side. Because some days Viktor is sure that he can’t be a mortal, with his quiet smiles; with the way he carries himself, how his every step seems to bless the ground he’s walking on, his grace spilling from his hands with every gesture and flick of his wrists. How his fingertips burn Viktor, but he doesn’t mind; warmth spreading across his body with every touch, soaking through his skin and settling inside his soul, binding them together.
And Viktor would give up everything for him. A word – that’s all it would take. A single word spilling from Yuuri’s mouth would make Viktor forget everything else that surrounds him. Because this man: his voice, his lips, his hands and his soul hold that magnificent power that make Viktor mindlessly beg for more. It is an ability many would gladly take, but Yuuri would never hold it against him. He, with his innocent grace, little blush rising high on his cheeks, with bangs falling slightly into his eyes. He is the first and the only person Viktor has ever wanted to hold onto; hold and never let go.
And now they sit in their living room and it should be cold. Rain drums heavily on the windows and the rooftop and their blanket lays discarded on the other side of the room. But it isn’t cold, because Yuuri’s presence makes the place feel warm, surrounding him and he knows he’s close, even if Yuuri is not looking at him, squished at the opposite end of the couch. Because he radiates warmth, and that warmness seems to blindly turn to him, reaching its ends and touching his skin, gently caressing his face.
And now they sit in their living room and it should be dark. There’s no electricity because of the storm outside and they ran out of candles. But it’s not, because Yuuri’s presence makes room lighter. It’s not even that his skin seems to glow or it’s not the fact that, from time to time, lightings reflect off his glasses. That’s not the case. Because Yuuri is the light himself.
And then he notices Viktor staring and he looks over at him, corner of his mouth quirking up in a small smile. Like he knows Viktor exact thoughts, his feelings, his every secret. And maybe he does; Viktor gladly lets him. Yuuri reaches across the couch, with his palm up, with indication for Viktor to take it and bring him closer. And maybe it will make Viktor burn, but he doesn’t care, because he craves every second of it.
And he takes his hand and shuffles closer. He reaches up and takes off his glasses, folding them before neatly resting them at the same spot he sat at merely seconds ago. Yuuri’s face softens in a smile and his eyes sparkle, gold glistening at the edges of his irises. He squints a little, bringing his face a little closer to Viktor’s, taking Viktor’s face in, like he’s the one in this room that really deserves all the attention and deserves to be adored
And Viktor leans in and kisses a spot under his eyebrow. He lingers there and Yuuri’s nose digs into his cheek. It’s cold.