[ His chest aches, hearing Konstantin say such a thing, bearing witness to his revulsion and alienation from his own body. Vasiliy wants to tell him just how far his self-assessment is from the truth: he's more than just not disgusting, he's the most attractive person he's ever encountered in his life. He can't imagine a situation that could make Konstantin seem disgusting to him.
But he can't say that. He can't offer up how arresting he finds the strong, masculine jaw and high cheekbones and deep brown eyes with their long lashes, can't inform him of just how much thought he's devoted to what it might be like to kiss him, or... the less physical thoughts, the truly dangerous ones.
All he can say, soft but firm in his reassurances, is— ]
No, Kostya. You could never be disgusting to me. You're a space hero. You're like Yuri Gagarin. Born to be on the cover of Pravda. You're just sick. That's not your fault. It doesn't... reflect on you.
no subject
But he can't say that. He can't offer up how arresting he finds the strong, masculine jaw and high cheekbones and deep brown eyes with their long lashes, can't inform him of just how much thought he's devoted to what it might be like to kiss him, or... the less physical thoughts, the truly dangerous ones.
All he can say, soft but firm in his reassurances, is— ]
No, Kostya. You could never be disgusting to me. You're a space hero. You're like Yuri Gagarin. Born to be on the cover of Pravda. You're just sick. That's not your fault. It doesn't... reflect on you.