[ For a moment, they're ten again, and they've just watched someone else get dragged away by the Knights for something that's barely a crime. Flynn is spitting mad but shouting will only make it worse, Hanks says, and so they shut their mouths and clasp their hands and hate this, together, the two of them against the world. Later that night Flynn had laid out everything wrong with the knights to a furiously-nodding Yuri, had worked himself into angry tears at the unfairness of it all, and Yuri had told him so, let's do something about it and a little light had flickered up in the darkness of Flynn's anger.
They hate this. It's unfair, and it's awful, and change is slow to come. Yuri believes he can fix it, though.
And Yuri is here.
Flynn drags in another breath. This one scrapes his throat raw, but he opens his eyes and sees his own sword-calloused hands, still clenched tight. He looks up, and Yuri is there in front of him, looking just as lost, just as unsure.
Flynn swallows. ]
Maybe—
[ his voice is shaky. Flynn presses on, because it's Yuri, and because messy emotions are the thing you trust your best friend with, apparently. Flynn certainly feels like a mess. Yuri will probably look at him and see a falling-apart shell of a knight who can't do anything about anything, but that's okay, because right now that's what Flynn is. ]
Maybe that's why we're here. Yuri, did you—if you thought you had any other way of stopping him...
[ Yuri doesn't see that. Instead, he sees his friend, his best friend, his brother, the man who he loves more than anyone else in the world, or worlds. The one person who knows him, really knows him, despite everything. The man who Yuri would die for without a second thought.
He sees that man, tired and wrung out, at the end of his rope, hurt, betrayed, by the country he committed himself to. Yuri's resolve crystalizes. Of course, he's going to do it. He's going to get better, to be better for Flynn. He's going to reach his potential, so he can earn his place by Flynn's side ]
I would have tried it. [ At least, he wants to believe that. He lets out a breath. ] I'll look for another way.
[ Flynn says it without thinking, his voice finally steady. He hesitates, and then shifts closer, pine needles prickling through his pants. He ignores them, pressing close enough that his knees nudge into Yuri's, that he is firmly in Yuri's space. He wants to be closer. He wants to— he wants to push himself into Yuri's arms like they did when they were kids, wants to shove his nose into Yuri's hair like they did earlier, lean on him, but he's done that enough.
This is as close as he gets. Every cell in his body tells him to get closer but Flynn sits and meets Yuri's eyes and holds up his forearm. The silence stretches, and Flynn's heart is in his throat, and he wants—
he wants—
But he just swallows and says, unsteadier, ] If we're both working on it, then...
[ Fuck, fuck, fuck he's close. He's close and Yuri can't breathe, he can't think, his body wants to move in toward him, to touch him, to press his lips to Flynn's again, but he can't move. He stares up at Flynn, and it takes him a long moment to comprehend what Flynn is trying to do. But then he gets it, and he pushes himself up to his own knees. Their bodies are nearly flush, and Yuri touches his forearm to Flynn's, in the sign they've used since they were eight and their hands were a mess from helping out with cleaning and had high-fived with their arms instead.
Something curls in him, hooking in his gut, and he meets Flynn's eyes and he feels sure, certain, that this is right. ]
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They hate this. It's unfair, and it's awful, and change is slow to come. Yuri believes he can fix it, though.
And Yuri is here.
Flynn drags in another breath. This one scrapes his throat raw, but he opens his eyes and sees his own sword-calloused hands, still clenched tight. He looks up, and Yuri is there in front of him, looking just as lost, just as unsure.
Flynn swallows. ]
Maybe—
[ his voice is shaky. Flynn presses on, because it's Yuri, and because messy emotions are the thing you trust your best friend with, apparently. Flynn certainly feels like a mess. Yuri will probably look at him and see a falling-apart shell of a knight who can't do anything about anything, but that's okay, because right now that's what Flynn is. ]
Maybe that's why we're here. Yuri, did you—if you thought you had any other way of stopping him...
no subject
He sees that man, tired and wrung out, at the end of his rope, hurt, betrayed, by the country he committed himself to. Yuri's resolve crystalizes. Of course, he's going to do it. He's going to get better, to be better for Flynn. He's going to reach his potential, so he can earn his place by Flynn's side ]
I would have tried it. [ At least, he wants to believe that. He lets out a breath. ] I'll look for another way.
no subject
[ Flynn says it without thinking, his voice finally steady. He hesitates, and then shifts closer, pine needles prickling through his pants. He ignores them, pressing close enough that his knees nudge into Yuri's, that he is firmly in Yuri's space. He wants to be closer. He wants to— he wants to push himself into Yuri's arms like they did when they were kids, wants to shove his nose into Yuri's hair like they did earlier, lean on him, but he's done that enough.
This is as close as he gets. Every cell in his body tells him to get closer but Flynn sits and meets Yuri's eyes and holds up his forearm. The silence stretches, and Flynn's heart is in his throat, and he wants—
he wants—
But he just swallows and says, unsteadier, ] If we're both working on it, then...
no subject
Something curls in him, hooking in his gut, and he meets Flynn's eyes and he feels sure, certain, that this is right. ]
Then we're gonna figure it out.