Hope

His smile is as bright and sharp as the flash of blades had been when they'd sparred. But it's false. He's just performing, and Felix knows it, had seen the grin of true triumph when he'd knocked Felix to the ground.

But here, he's just playing a part. Felix watches him far too long, and swears quietly when one of his friends says something about it. He gets up from the table and stalks outside the tavern, appreciating the cool air on his face.

When Yuri follows him out, Felix can feel his pulse quicken, and he's equal parts annoyed and excited by it. Yuri folds his arms, kicks one foot over the opposite ankle, and leans against the wall.

"It's nice out here."

Felix grunts in response. But the irritation bubbles to the surface all too soon. "How do you do it? Pretend, for those…people."

The last word drips with disdain, but Yuri just laughs and says, "It's easier to get by when people like you."

"I wouldn't know."

Another peal of laughter echoes into the night down the empty road. And then Yuri steps around in front of Felix, altogether too close. Felix can smell the scent of perfumed soap, and Yuri's eyes glitter in the night.

"I like being honest with you. It's--refreshing." A thin shoulder shrugs up, back down again. He takes a breath. "Can I be more honest than maybe I should?" The question is serious, but there's a jaunty tilt to Yuri's head.

Felix has no idea how to answer. "Do what you want."

"I was hoping you'd say that." Yuri puts his index finger under Felix's chin, moving in slowly, and Felix finds he doesn't want to pull away.

His kiss feels knowing, interested, and oddly patient? And honest.

Felix puts a hand at the back of Yuri's neck, and pulls him closer for more.