There's a slight pause, and then Yuri shudders a little, curling into him even more, face pressing into his shoulder, fingers clutching at his coat, and when he speaks finally, Victor's not surprised to hear the thickness of tears in his voice.

It's been a long few days, a long few weeks, a long few months, a long few years, and Yuri's fought through it all. First by himself, and then with Victor at his side, but it's been a fight nevertheless, and he's closer than ever now to his goal.

(By a hairsbreadth, but he's still there.)

So it's not unexpected, hearing Yuri restate it, what they're here for, what Victor promised him at the start of all this --

(I'll make you win the Grand Prix Final!)

-- just as it isn't unexpected that Yuri is teary. He's exhausted. (They're both exhausted.) He's been worried for so long. (About his skate, about if Victor might leave, about Maccachin.) It's no surprised he's feeling overwhelmed. "Yes."

This is his role, the thing he's been swamped by guilt for not doing for the last two days: being Yuri's support, his foundation, the solid thing he can lean on and believe in.

Believe in himself, because Victor does. "But first, let's go home."

He doesn't want to pull back even to follow his own advice, but Maccachin, finally fed up with being ignored, leaps at Yuri's hand where it's fisted in his coat, and sends Victor stumbling forward, laughing in relief.

(Perhaps with suspiciously bright eyes and thick voice, himself.)

"Maccachin, are you jealous? We haven't forgotten you."