A stretch.
Then a yawn.
Then a crack of an eye to confirm that yes, they hadn't closed the blinds last night, and now the sun had appeared to punish them, or him, he realized as he looked down. His bed partner was still asleep, even, measured breaths disturbing his stillness.
God, he could watch him all day, the way his eyelids fluttered from sleep, how he reflexively grasped and released the blanket in his hands that Victor had held so often.
But for now, the blinding light, and thus the curtains, must be dealt with. He slowly crept out of bed, feeling his simple clothes adjust and shift with his movements. The gentle padding of his steps lead him to the window, then silenced. The world outside was a brilliant white, grey lines hastily carved into it, begging to be heard against their backdrop. The soft curtain rubbed between his world outside demanded so much of him and his Yuuri, some things he wasn't able to give, couldn't give, not like this. The world can wait, he decided, plunging the room into darkness.
With practiced moves, he slid back next to Yuuri, turning to look where he knew Yuuri would be facing. The sound of soft breathing controlled the air, and sometimes he felt the remnants of a soft breath on his face. How lucky he was that Yuuri loved him when no one else could.
His eyes fluttered shut.