Victor swims into view, clearer and clearer, and the smile on his face is better than any of the air Yuri hasn't the faintest clue whether is making it into his body at all, regardless of the work of his mouth, shoulders, and lungs. Even swallowed and swamped it's that single shout of his name that makes everything around it seem that much louder, that much more present.
His pulse is a race, throbbing numbly and too presently, all at once, as he pulls on his skate guards, and steps through the gate, only to have Victor suddenly swallow him next. Arms around his neck and head pressed down against him, and if Yuri was expecting something else, even for the barest, far away, drowned down, flicker, nothing but bubbling relief, getting everywhere, as Victor hugs him with the exuberance Victor does everything.
Yuri is sure his shoulders, are probably being swung around, and his head, maybe even the rest of his body, but all he can tell -- not even sure if the word is feel, again, yet -- is his face pressed into the collar and shoulder of Victor's jacket, his arms might be tight around Victor, fingers in his jacket, but everything is the underwater burble of Victor's tilted American filling his head.
And everything is light. Spacey. Protracted.
Ebbing pain that he knows will return fiercely but isn't now.
Isn't pain. And. Isn't ... whatever it was, that it wasn't anymore. Either.
When Victor pulls back and his face swings into view smiling, mouth moving rapidly. Faster than Yuri's brain is truly caught up to, when Victor is giving him his jacket, and he's pulling it on, looking at the cheering people that Victor is talking about, and toward the girls coming to the edge, bearing handfuls and armfuls of options. When he should pick something and it's a bleary blink before he's reaching for triangular Onigiri plushie.
Tucking his arms around it, like he needs something to do with them or they might just float off into space, away from his shoulders, without any warning. The shoulders Victor has swung an arm around and is directing him with, still shining up at his side, all smile and ebullient tones. A brilliant light silver and white, fuzzed just barely by his vision, the way the sun fuzzes everything if you stare at it straight on.
And like plants under the sun, all Yuri can do is lean into him, follow him.
Sliding down with a thump he thinks he feels more as rebound than landing this time. As the elastic rippling relief of weight off his legs, his knees, his ankles numb in his skates, shifting to the lower part of his spine, compounded at his hips, but even that feels distant, as Victor waves to the crowd, flapping his arms and his hands, and Yuri leans on the small padded object in his lap, stomach trying to curl up as he tries to blink and focus on the screen high above.
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Date: 2017-04-05 03:44 pm (UTC)His pulse is a race, throbbing numbly and too presently, all at once, as he pulls on his skate guards, and steps through the gate, only to have Victor suddenly swallow him next. Arms around his neck and head pressed down against him, and if Yuri was expecting something else, even for the barest, far away, drowned down, flicker, nothing but bubbling relief, getting everywhere, as Victor hugs him with the exuberance Victor does everything.
Yuri is sure his shoulders, are probably being swung around, and his head, maybe even the rest of his body, but all he can tell -- not even sure if the word is feel, again, yet -- is his face pressed into the collar and shoulder of Victor's jacket, his arms might be tight around Victor, fingers in his jacket, but everything is the underwater burble of Victor's tilted American filling his head.
And everything is light. Spacey. Protracted.
Ebbing pain that he knows will return fiercely but isn't now.
Isn't pain. And. Isn't ... whatever it was, that it wasn't anymore. Either.
When Victor pulls back and his face swings into view smiling, mouth moving rapidly. Faster than Yuri's brain is truly caught up to, when Victor is giving him his jacket, and he's pulling it on, looking at the cheering people that Victor is talking about, and toward the girls coming to the edge, bearing handfuls and armfuls of options. When he should pick something and it's a bleary blink before he's reaching for triangular Onigiri plushie.
Tucking his arms around it, like he needs something to do with them or they might just float off into space, away from his shoulders, without any warning. The shoulders Victor has swung an arm around and is directing him with, still shining up at his side, all smile and ebullient tones. A brilliant light silver and white, fuzzed just barely by his vision, the way the sun fuzzes everything if you stare at it straight on.
And like plants under the sun, all Yuri can do is lean into him, follow him.
Sliding down with a thump he thinks he feels more as rebound than landing this time. As the elastic rippling relief of weight off his legs, his knees, his ankles numb in his skates, shifting to the lower part of his spine, compounded at his hips, but even that feels distant, as Victor waves to the crowd, flapping his arms and his hands, and Yuri leans on the small padded object in his lap, stomach trying to curl up as he tries to blink and focus on the screen high above.