[ If what Yuri likes about Hitoshi is how interminably laid back he is, Hitoshi's favorite thing is of course the opposite. He thinks sometimes about how Yuri's personality is a little like one of those insane combination jumps. He's animated and interesting, funny, deceptively clever (he's an athlete after all, they're not exactly known for it), driven, hot-headed - it's a lot of things, a lot mixing together, and a lot of people might have various combinations of the above but very few of them can land it well and stay on their feet.
Or something. Try as he might on this or that 4am Youtube binge, Hitoshi still doesn't really understand ice skating. He just kind of remembers some of the things the commentators say. ]
Nope. I'm open all this week while the boss is on his honeymoon.
[ And thank god, honestly. He'd found himself short on an internship after his difficult start and this one is a godsend, one nobody else would have been offered - but the tradeoff for that is that as internships go, this one is a merciless, unending obstacle course. He's grateful for it, but that doesn't make it not exhausting. Which makes this week his favorite ever - and that's in no small part down to the occasional thought of the Workaholic Hero Eraserhead trying to remember what a day off is supposed to look like.
Hitoshi glances down at Yuri, and there's a strange moment where the way he sticks as close as he does makes it feel weirdly like Hitoshi should put his arm around him or something. Like he needs protecting somehow.
Hah. Imagine.
Instead he uses that hand to rub at the back of his neck, a habit that's as intrinsically a part of him as his uncombed hair or the dark circles under his eyes. ]
So what exactly happened? Whose blanket is that? Other than being yours now, obviously.
( Huh. Open all week? In which case, Yuri might have to bully him into coming to the rink to keep him company one afternoon. He's getting a little sick of seeing the same expressions on all the same faces: it's either fans who look up to him fixing him with a sort of dreamy, awe-struck stare, or skaters who consider themselves real competition brushing him off as though he isn't working his feet bloody every day. It's tiresome.
... And so what if seeing Hitoshi a bit more would make him happy? It's no big deal; they're friends, and that's what friends do. If he really doesn't want to come he doesn't have to - )
Huh?
( The frown that was beginning to work its way into his brow slackens off again, leaving his expression open, but a split second later he's rolling his eyes and huffing at the question of 'what exactly happened'. )
Oh, Anton is a dick. We were supposed to have a night out and then spend today watching shit TV, but he ditched me for a girl.
( He flaps one corner of the blanket. )
This is his lucky blanket - that idiot says it helps him do better in competitions. I took it as payback.
( And it's Yuri's now. Payback, for wasting one of Yuri's rare free nights by deciding that getting laid was more important than spending time with his friend. Perhaps it's his abandonment issues talking but he deserves to have his stupid lucky blanket stolen; indeed, he's lucky Yuri didn't shred it and leave it strewn around his hotel room before disappearing. He sets his jaw. )
I'm going to wash it and make it into a new bed for Potya.
[ Hitoshi grins at the story, not really registering much of an opinion on Anton's loss of his lucky blanket. After all, firstly, who over the age of five has a lucky blanket? Seems a bit juvenile, though to each their own, he supposes. Still, abandoning your friend aside - if you're stupid enough to leave something like that around Yuri Plisetsky and then ditch him for a girl, you deserve to lose it. Hitoshi can't say he can think of a reason why he'd rather spend time with a girl than Yuri, who he doesn't see nearly so much of now that most of his time is spent in internship hell, but if he could? If he for some inexplicable reason was going to leave the little Russian in the dust? He'd make absolutely sure nothing prime for use as petty revenge was nearby, at the very least. ]
I didn't know Potya needed help with competitions.
[ Another of those sniggers as they round a corner into a back street, and he points a little ways ahead, to a little tucked-away place apparently called Sweet Marron. There's one of those chalkboard signs outside of it, on which along with an advertisement for today's specials, are several doodles of cats. ]
There it is. I didn't bring you here yet, did I?
[ It's one of those places that you discover and then get to think of as somehow your own. Cute and quiet and underappreciated. Hitoshi has been here... a lot. ]
( Hitoshi's little comment about Potya has Yuri smirking. That's another thing he likes about him: the other boy's sense of humour is precisely Yuri's speed, and he frequently leaves him snickering into the back of his hand. Better yet, the little sprinkle of humour has some of the tension leaving Yuri's shoulders, and he nudges him with a sharp elbow as they step into the back street. )
She'd win any competition just by being perfect, but a lucky blanket doesn't hurt, right?
( The place looks ... cute. Yuri isn't opposed to cute (for all his posturing and complaining would suggest otherwise), and he's immediately taken by the little cats framing the board of specials. He perks up visibly, his expression warming into something less guarded than he usually wears, before glancing up at Hitoshi with a slanting smile on his lips. )
We haven't been here. It looks good.
( And yeah, he might be kind of pink in the cheeks, because the reality of how sweet it is for Hitoshi to come and find him, then take him for breakfast at a cat themed pancake place, is beginning to sink in. He doesn't even seem to mind that he's embarrassing him by looking like shit! That's a dedicated friendship, right there. Yuri appreciates it. )
Can you get a table while I wash this crap off my face?
[ Yeah, that's - it's something, huh? Funny really, because both of these ideas had started as jokes at his friend's expense. What if I showed up on my bike to get him, and then made him sit in a cafe looking stupid in last night's clothes changed so fluidly into getting a ride, fully expecting to be the guy finding their respective rides home, bringing extra clothes despite the fact that they're way too big, and treating Yuri to breakfast somewhere like this. Friendly ribbing fading so smoothly into surprisingly sweet gestures, Hitoshi hadn't even realized he was doing it.
There's probably a metaphor in that, somewhere.
Anyway, speaking of those extra clothes he brought, it's probably about time he admits to having brought them. He pauses just outside the door and pulls his backpack off his back to offer it out. ]
Here. Brought you something to change into.
[ His smile is lazy and lopsided, with enough amusement in it that it's clear he let Yuri think he was going to have to sit through breakfast like that on purpose. But he could have just not told him at all and let him actually do it, so that's got to win a few points back. ]
It's not gonna fit you or anything, but it at least shouldn't fall off.
[ It's not exactly a Look, but it's a little more appropriate and a damn sight more comfortable, at the very least. ]
( Yuri looks confused for a moment, as though he isn't sure why he's being handed a bag, but then Hitoshi's words catch up with his actions and his expression flickers from perplexed to somewhere between outraged and amused. Seriously? This asshole had a change of clothes with him the whole time? Yuri barks out a laugh and takes the bag, letting the blanket slide down around his shoulders. )
Fuck, I can't believe you. I thought I was going to have to go in and make an ass of myself some more!
( But he's grinning, emerald-green eyes glinting and bright with mirth. The little bell on the door tinkles as they move inside; Yuri is already gravitating towards the bathroom despite the nostalgic scent of warm pancake batter, but he pauses to toss a quick smirk over his shoulder. )
Get me a coffee while I'm changing, da? Black, with honey.
( Not necessarily to his surprise, but certainly to his pleasure, even the men's toilets are cosy. Yuri tackles his messy make-up with hand soap and water then finger-combs his hair until it's less of a nest, pulling it all into a loose side-braid before shutting himself into a stall. Hitoshi's clothes are ... yeah, made for someone taller and broader than himself, but everything is soft jersey and clean-smelling which is more than good enough for Yuri.
... He ignores the weird, squeezy sensation in his stomach that seems to be related to the prospect that Hitoshi genuinely cares about him. That's a puzzle for Future Yuri.
He returns to the main body of the cafe looking far less Night Time than when he entered, his club clothes jammed into Hitoshi's backpack and the balled up under his arm. He appears a little younger than his eighteen years with his freshly scrubbed face, but no less sharp, and Yuri makes a show of slinging the bag under the table and plucking at the hoodie when he sits himself down opposite his tired looking saviour. )
Hey, what fabric softener do you use? This is like wearing - baby angel feathers, or something.
[ When Yuri comes back through, Hitoshi looks up from where he's been idly stirring his coffee - it's been long enough and he'd known what he wanted quickly enough that their drinks are there by now, and he's just finished dumping a frankly embarrassing amount of sugar into his. Chin in his hand, hooded indigo eyes take in the transformation and... oh.
There's always something striking about Yuri, especially in a place like this - he's a shard of winter in what's supposed to be a haven of warm autumn, as impossible to ignore as a drop of ice water down the back of the neck. But somehow it's almost more impactful this way, when the effect isn't augmented by his outfit. There aren't many people who can be as eye-catching as that in someone else's baggy loungewear.
Yuri looks nice in his clothes, he thinks. And then decides he's not going to think about that anymore. ]
I don't know - Downy, I guess.
[ Hitoshi sits back and sips at his drink. Ah - bitter and sugary and perfect. How anyone drinks coffee with honey in it is beyond him. ]
Honestly I half thought you'd decide it wasn't stylish enough.
( Yuri's gaze drops to his coffee, dark and sweet-smelling and perfect, when he notices the close scrutiny of Hitoshi's gaze. It doesn't feel critical as such, just more intense than he was expecting, but then the feeling is quickly banished as the conversation begins to flow again. So what if Hitoshi is looking at him? He's wearing his clothes - Yuri would probably be doing the same if their roles were reversed. )
It isn't stylish enough.
( Scoffing openly, Yuri lifts his cup to his lips and takes an indulgent sip. It's good - Yuri is a coffee snob and generally won't drink anything he deems to be sub-par - and he relaxes into his seat properly as the honeyed warmth spreads through his body. If Hitoshi has a problem with honey? He should just wait until he catches Yuri spooning cherry jam into his tea. )
You really need some new stuff. What if we go out one night, huh?
( He nudges Hitoshi's ankle with his foot; it's meant to imitate a kick, but he realises a second too late that it's more like ... fuck, more like a flirtation. Yuri pulls his feet back under his own chair and crosses them at the ankle, his ears flushing red. He swallows down a bigger gulp of his coffee and sweeps a flyaway lock of blond hair back behind his ear. )
I don't dance with guys in sweatpants, is all I'm saying.
[ Hitoshi rolls his eyes at the comment. Of course it's not stylish enough - he didn't buy it so he could appear in Paris Fashion Week, it's supposed to be comfortable and apparently it's doing that job perfectly well. He's wrapping his fingers around the mug between his hands and about to make some kind of remark in return, something along the lines of well we can't all be Peter Pan on ice, when the nudge of Yuri's foot against his ankle stops him cold.
He blinks, eyes widening just a fraction as he glances down at the table - as if he could see through the smooth wooden surface. And see what, exactly? Looking back up at Yuri, it definitely doesn't seem like he meant for that to be quite as flirtatious as it ended up coming across, his ears a telltale pink. Hitoshi exhales a breath of laughter and carefully ignores something dangerously close to disappointment that tugs at him as a result.
But hey, maybe if he does it too, it'll be less of a Thing. Less... something. It'll be closer to the actual joke it's supposed to be, anyway. ]
You want to dance with me, Yura?
[ There's that grin of his again, playful as ever. ]
( Yuri flusters at both the question and Hitoshi's use of the affectionate diminutive version of his name. He knows he's being teased - when is Hitoshi not teasing him, really - but he feels suddenly called out, and his gut reaction is to immediately start back-pedaling on whatever it is he said. It takes a lot of effort to ignore that habit and attempt something a little ... different.
Hitoshi's foot-nudge back gives him the last few ounces of courage that he needs. )
So what if I do?
( He raises an eyebrow, assessing the other from over the rim of his steaming cup. They've never had a night out together - their schedules rarely align in a way that allows for excessive drinking and dancing on both parts - but that doesn't mean Yuri's never entertained the idea of showing Hitoshi that he can dance on solid ground as well as ice. )
At least you wouldn't ditch me to get laid, right?
( Green eyes narrow into a playful glare as he sets his cup down in front of him again. It's nice, actually, to already kind of know that Hitoshi wouldn't screw him over like that. Yuri's never been made to feel as though the time they've spent together has been wasted. )
[ Hitoshi lifts an eyebrow, still grinning - but that's a step further than he really wants to go with his teasing, so there isn't really room for a reaction to it on Yuri's part before he snorts with laughter, making it clear that that wasn't actually a serious question and in the process breaking a vague sense of tension that he suspects he might be completely imagining. He might be eighteen, but he's not totally stupid.
Shoulders shaking slightly with mirth, he looks down into his cup, watching the little bubbles that collect on the surface. The spoon's still in it, just because he hasn't bothered to take it out yet, so with his chin once again in his hand he begins idly swirling the dark liquid around. Normally by now he'd be getting on for his second cup, using caffeine as a cheap stand-in for sleep that evades much more deftly and can't simply be bought. And that's probably it, isn't it? Insomnia is an irregular and unpredictable houseguest, and unfortunately lately it seems to have set up to hang around for a while. He hasn't slept more than an hour or so at a time in days. If his thoughts are swirling like this, that's probably why.
Couldn't be anything else. How could it? If there was anything else, he'd have noticed it by now.
Lost halfway between thought and plain old spacing out, Hitoshi quietly watches the regular movement of his spoon like a hypnotist's spiral for... he has no idea how long. Abruptly comes back to himself what feels like it could be an hour later, though probably wasn't more than half a minute. The little shake he gives himself back into lucidity is even visible as he looks up at Yuri. ]
( "Would I need to?" Yuri's glad he isn't swallowing anything because he's fairly certain he'd have choked on it - like, properly choked - but then Hitoshi is snorting with laughter and Yuri feels a little like he's experiencing conversational whiplash. What the fuck is going on? Was he always this shit at Friendship or is this something new and exclusive to his relationship with Hitoshi? Luckily for the both of them he recovers quickly, a witty response poised on the tip of his tongue, but then he notices that Hitoshi seems to have well and truly spaced out in the aftermath of his little joke.
Honestly. This guy. )
I didn't say anything, you fucking weirdo.
( But Yuri's words are affectionate. He rolls his eyes, doing his best to brush off any awkwardness lingering around his lack of response as to whether Hitoshi would get laid, and picks up one of the folded menus to give himself something to do with his hands. Would there be any point in adding a sarcastic comment suggesting his friend needs to get a little more sleep? Probably not. It isn't like it'll magically cure his insomnia, after all. )
... Do you even like guys?
( Yuri blinks at himself, wondering how the fuck he managed to blurt out something he wasn't even concentrating on. A slight frown presses into his brow as he glances at Hitoshi over the top of his menu, because ... huh. He supposes it's a valid question, at least. Own it, Plisetsky. Don't turn into a gibbering wreck like the Piggy. )
I mean - Anton ditched me because I'm not a hot girl. I guess if he was into guys and thought he had a chance with me, he might not have left.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Or something. Try as he might on this or that 4am Youtube binge, Hitoshi still doesn't really understand ice skating. He just kind of remembers some of the things the commentators say. ]
Nope. I'm open all this week while the boss is on his honeymoon.
[ And thank god, honestly. He'd found himself short on an internship after his difficult start and this one is a godsend, one nobody else would have been offered - but the tradeoff for that is that as internships go, this one is a merciless, unending obstacle course. He's grateful for it, but that doesn't make it not exhausting. Which makes this week his favorite ever - and that's in no small part down to the occasional thought of the Workaholic Hero Eraserhead trying to remember what a day off is supposed to look like.
Hitoshi glances down at Yuri, and there's a strange moment where the way he sticks as close as he does makes it feel weirdly like Hitoshi should put his arm around him or something. Like he needs protecting somehow.
Hah. Imagine.
Instead he uses that hand to rub at the back of his neck, a habit that's as intrinsically a part of him as his uncombed hair or the dark circles under his eyes. ]
So what exactly happened? Whose blanket is that? Other than being yours now, obviously.
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( Huh. Open all week? In which case, Yuri might have to bully him into coming to the rink to keep him company one afternoon. He's getting a little sick of seeing the same expressions on all the same faces: it's either fans who look up to him fixing him with a sort of dreamy, awe-struck stare, or skaters who consider themselves real competition brushing him off as though he isn't working his feet bloody every day. It's tiresome.
... And so what if seeing Hitoshi a bit more would make him happy? It's no big deal; they're friends, and that's what friends do. If he really doesn't want to come he doesn't have to - )
Huh?
( The frown that was beginning to work its way into his brow slackens off again, leaving his expression open, but a split second later he's rolling his eyes and huffing at the question of 'what exactly happened'. )
Oh, Anton is a dick. We were supposed to have a night out and then spend today watching shit TV, but he ditched me for a girl.
( He flaps one corner of the blanket. )
This is his lucky blanket - that idiot says it helps him do better in competitions. I took it as payback.
( And it's Yuri's now. Payback, for wasting one of Yuri's rare free nights by deciding that getting laid was more important than spending time with his friend. Perhaps it's his abandonment issues talking but he deserves to have his stupid lucky blanket stolen; indeed, he's lucky Yuri didn't shred it and leave it strewn around his hotel room before disappearing. He sets his jaw. )
I'm going to wash it and make it into a new bed for Potya.
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I didn't know Potya needed help with competitions.
[ Another of those sniggers as they round a corner into a back street, and he points a little ways ahead, to a little tucked-away place apparently called Sweet Marron. There's one of those chalkboard signs outside of it, on which along with an advertisement for today's specials, are several doodles of cats. ]
There it is. I didn't bring you here yet, did I?
[ It's one of those places that you discover and then get to think of as somehow your own. Cute and quiet and underappreciated. Hitoshi has been here... a lot. ]
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( Hitoshi's little comment about Potya has Yuri smirking. That's another thing he likes about him: the other boy's sense of humour is precisely Yuri's speed, and he frequently leaves him snickering into the back of his hand. Better yet, the little sprinkle of humour has some of the tension leaving Yuri's shoulders, and he nudges him with a sharp elbow as they step into the back street. )
She'd win any competition just by being perfect, but a lucky blanket doesn't hurt, right?
( The place looks ... cute. Yuri isn't opposed to cute (for all his posturing and complaining would suggest otherwise), and he's immediately taken by the little cats framing the board of specials. He perks up visibly, his expression warming into something less guarded than he usually wears, before glancing up at Hitoshi with a slanting smile on his lips. )
We haven't been here. It looks good.
( And yeah, he might be kind of pink in the cheeks, because the reality of how sweet it is for Hitoshi to come and find him, then take him for breakfast at a cat themed pancake place, is beginning to sink in. He doesn't even seem to mind that he's embarrassing him by looking like shit! That's a dedicated friendship, right there. Yuri appreciates it. )
Can you get a table while I wash this crap off my face?
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[ Yeah, that's - it's something, huh? Funny really, because both of these ideas had started as jokes at his friend's expense. What if I showed up on my bike to get him, and then made him sit in a cafe looking stupid in last night's clothes changed so fluidly into getting a ride, fully expecting to be the guy finding their respective rides home, bringing extra clothes despite the fact that they're way too big, and treating Yuri to breakfast somewhere like this. Friendly ribbing fading so smoothly into surprisingly sweet gestures, Hitoshi hadn't even realized he was doing it.
There's probably a metaphor in that, somewhere.
Anyway, speaking of those extra clothes he brought, it's probably about time he admits to having brought them. He pauses just outside the door and pulls his backpack off his back to offer it out. ]
Here. Brought you something to change into.
[ His smile is lazy and lopsided, with enough amusement in it that it's clear he let Yuri think he was going to have to sit through breakfast like that on purpose. But he could have just not told him at all and let him actually do it, so that's got to win a few points back. ]
It's not gonna fit you or anything, but it at least shouldn't fall off.
[ It's not exactly a Look, but it's a little more appropriate and a damn sight more comfortable, at the very least. ]
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( Yuri looks confused for a moment, as though he isn't sure why he's being handed a bag, but then Hitoshi's words catch up with his actions and his expression flickers from perplexed to somewhere between outraged and amused. Seriously? This asshole had a change of clothes with him the whole time? Yuri barks out a laugh and takes the bag, letting the blanket slide down around his shoulders. )
Fuck, I can't believe you. I thought I was going to have to go in and make an ass of myself some more!
( But he's grinning, emerald-green eyes glinting and bright with mirth. The little bell on the door tinkles as they move inside; Yuri is already gravitating towards the bathroom despite the nostalgic scent of warm pancake batter, but he pauses to toss a quick smirk over his shoulder. )
Get me a coffee while I'm changing, da? Black, with honey.
( Not necessarily to his surprise, but certainly to his pleasure, even the men's toilets are cosy. Yuri tackles his messy make-up with hand soap and water then finger-combs his hair until it's less of a nest, pulling it all into a loose side-braid before shutting himself into a stall. Hitoshi's clothes are ... yeah, made for someone taller and broader than himself, but everything is soft jersey and clean-smelling which is more than good enough for Yuri.
... He ignores the weird, squeezy sensation in his stomach that seems to be related to the prospect that Hitoshi genuinely cares about him. That's a puzzle for Future Yuri.
He returns to the main body of the cafe looking far less Night Time than when he entered, his club clothes jammed into Hitoshi's backpack and the balled up under his arm. He appears a little younger than his eighteen years with his freshly scrubbed face, but no less sharp, and Yuri makes a show of slinging the bag under the table and plucking at the hoodie when he sits himself down opposite his tired looking saviour. )
Hey, what fabric softener do you use? This is like wearing - baby angel feathers, or something.
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There's always something striking about Yuri, especially in a place like this - he's a shard of winter in what's supposed to be a haven of warm autumn, as impossible to ignore as a drop of ice water down the back of the neck. But somehow it's almost more impactful this way, when the effect isn't augmented by his outfit. There aren't many people who can be as eye-catching as that in someone else's baggy loungewear.
Yuri looks nice in his clothes, he thinks. And then decides he's not going to think about that anymore. ]
I don't know - Downy, I guess.
[ Hitoshi sits back and sips at his drink. Ah - bitter and sugary and perfect. How anyone drinks coffee with honey in it is beyond him. ]
Honestly I half thought you'd decide it wasn't stylish enough.
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( Yuri's gaze drops to his coffee, dark and sweet-smelling and perfect, when he notices the close scrutiny of Hitoshi's gaze. It doesn't feel critical as such, just more intense than he was expecting, but then the feeling is quickly banished as the conversation begins to flow again. So what if Hitoshi is looking at him? He's wearing his clothes - Yuri would probably be doing the same if their roles were reversed. )
It isn't stylish enough.
( Scoffing openly, Yuri lifts his cup to his lips and takes an indulgent sip. It's good - Yuri is a coffee snob and generally won't drink anything he deems to be sub-par - and he relaxes into his seat properly as the honeyed warmth spreads through his body. If Hitoshi has a problem with honey? He should just wait until he catches Yuri spooning cherry jam into his tea. )
You really need some new stuff. What if we go out one night, huh?
( He nudges Hitoshi's ankle with his foot; it's meant to imitate a kick, but he realises a second too late that it's more like ... fuck, more like a flirtation. Yuri pulls his feet back under his own chair and crosses them at the ankle, his ears flushing red. He swallows down a bigger gulp of his coffee and sweeps a flyaway lock of blond hair back behind his ear. )
I don't dance with guys in sweatpants, is all I'm saying.
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He blinks, eyes widening just a fraction as he glances down at the table - as if he could see through the smooth wooden surface. And see what, exactly? Looking back up at Yuri, it definitely doesn't seem like he meant for that to be quite as flirtatious as it ended up coming across, his ears a telltale pink. Hitoshi exhales a breath of laughter and carefully ignores something dangerously close to disappointment that tugs at him as a result.
But hey, maybe if he does it too, it'll be less of a Thing. Less... something. It'll be closer to the actual joke it's supposed to be, anyway. ]
You want to dance with me, Yura?
[ There's that grin of his again, playful as ever. ]
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( Yuri flusters at both the question and Hitoshi's use of the affectionate diminutive version of his name. He knows he's being teased - when is Hitoshi not teasing him, really - but he feels suddenly called out, and his gut reaction is to immediately start back-pedaling on whatever it is he said. It takes a lot of effort to ignore that habit and attempt something a little ... different.
Hitoshi's foot-nudge back gives him the last few ounces of courage that he needs. )
So what if I do?
( He raises an eyebrow, assessing the other from over the rim of his steaming cup. They've never had a night out together - their schedules rarely align in a way that allows for excessive drinking and dancing on both parts - but that doesn't mean Yuri's never entertained the idea of showing Hitoshi that he can dance on solid ground as well as ice. )
At least you wouldn't ditch me to get laid, right?
( Green eyes narrow into a playful glare as he sets his cup down in front of him again. It's nice, actually, to already kind of know that Hitoshi wouldn't screw him over like that. Yuri's never been made to feel as though the time they've spent together has been wasted. )
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[ Hitoshi lifts an eyebrow, still grinning - but that's a step further than he really wants to go with his teasing, so there isn't really room for a reaction to it on Yuri's part before he snorts with laughter, making it clear that that wasn't actually a serious question and in the process breaking a vague sense of tension that he suspects he might be completely imagining. He might be eighteen, but he's not totally stupid.
Shoulders shaking slightly with mirth, he looks down into his cup, watching the little bubbles that collect on the surface. The spoon's still in it, just because he hasn't bothered to take it out yet, so with his chin once again in his hand he begins idly swirling the dark liquid around. Normally by now he'd be getting on for his second cup, using caffeine as a cheap stand-in for sleep that evades much more deftly and can't simply be bought. And that's probably it, isn't it? Insomnia is an irregular and unpredictable houseguest, and unfortunately lately it seems to have set up to hang around for a while. He hasn't slept more than an hour or so at a time in days. If his thoughts are swirling like this, that's probably why.
Couldn't be anything else. How could it? If there was anything else, he'd have noticed it by now.
Lost halfway between thought and plain old spacing out, Hitoshi quietly watches the regular movement of his spoon like a hypnotist's spiral for... he has no idea how long. Abruptly comes back to himself what feels like it could be an hour later, though probably wasn't more than half a minute. The little shake he gives himself back into lucidity is even visible as he looks up at Yuri. ]
... Sorry, you say something?
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( "Would I need to?" Yuri's glad he isn't swallowing anything because he's fairly certain he'd have choked on it - like, properly choked - but then Hitoshi is snorting with laughter and Yuri feels a little like he's experiencing conversational whiplash. What the fuck is going on? Was he always this shit at Friendship or is this something new and exclusive to his relationship with Hitoshi? Luckily for the both of them he recovers quickly, a witty response poised on the tip of his tongue, but then he notices that Hitoshi seems to have well and truly spaced out in the aftermath of his little joke.
Honestly. This guy. )
I didn't say anything, you fucking weirdo.
( But Yuri's words are affectionate. He rolls his eyes, doing his best to brush off any awkwardness lingering around his lack of response as to whether Hitoshi would get laid, and picks up one of the folded menus to give himself something to do with his hands. Would there be any point in adding a sarcastic comment suggesting his friend needs to get a little more sleep? Probably not. It isn't like it'll magically cure his insomnia, after all. )
... Do you even like guys?
( Yuri blinks at himself, wondering how the fuck he managed to blurt out something he wasn't even concentrating on. A slight frown presses into his brow as he glances at Hitoshi over the top of his menu, because ... huh. He supposes it's a valid question, at least. Own it, Plisetsky. Don't turn into a gibbering wreck like the Piggy. )
I mean - Anton ditched me because I'm not a hot girl. I guess if he was into guys and thought he had a chance with me, he might not have left.