He's not sure how he gets there, from one helium balloon to another, without really ever fully touching down to the ground. He's in First Place. He's in First Place. It's not the same as last time. Everything is different here. The level. The skaters. His score is over ten points higher than the last time it jumped. And Victor is still holding on, whispering just beside his ear without touching it, as the crowd goes on, and Yuri stares, trying to even hold it all still.
First. (But there are still three more people to go.
But, Phichit had -- First.)
While Victor calls him the best student, and Yuri's sure some of his blood is remembering how to find his face, even under the wear and tear that makes it feel like his face hasn't given it up entirely, ever, not with the level of the exertion from the routine. But those words. Victor saying all of them near his ear, not letting go. The tuck into the numbers stamping themselves suddenly on the walls of his brain.
It's all fighting up, bubbling, against and under it. Surprise and shock and something tremulously and tremendously bright, like triumph. He did it. He did it. Victor's words about the katsudon, about tomorrow, and what's next, are against realizing their faces are up there again. Every earlier second, a handful he lost to shock, and Victor didn't in the slightest. Victor pressed to him, up there, smiling pure radiant illumination against Yuri's cheek, and he's staring at that, at him, at them, before suddenly realizing he should do ... something.
Freeing up a hand from his bottle, and waving at the camera, even without detaching Victor from over it. His own smile looks small, even as it breaks, like a laugh at the lateness of itself, while he waves.
A personal best over 100. First. First for -- at least the next while?
He lets his hand drop from its wave onto Victor's arm. "There's still the second group."
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Date: 2017-04-06 12:44 am (UTC)First. (But there are still three more people to go.
But, Phichit had -- First.)
While Victor calls him the best student, and Yuri's sure some of his blood is remembering how to find his face, even under the wear and tear that makes it feel like his face hasn't given it up entirely, ever, not with the level of the exertion from the routine. But those words. Victor saying all of them near his ear, not letting go. The tuck into the numbers stamping themselves suddenly on the walls of his brain.
It's all fighting up, bubbling, against and under it. Surprise and shock and something tremulously and tremendously bright, like triumph. He did it. He did it. Victor's words about the katsudon, about tomorrow, and what's next, are against realizing their faces are up there again. Every earlier second, a handful he lost to shock, and Victor didn't in the slightest. Victor pressed to him, up there, smiling pure radiant illumination against Yuri's cheek, and he's staring at that, at him, at them, before suddenly realizing he should do ... something.
Freeing up a hand from his bottle, and waving at the camera, even without detaching Victor from over it.
His own smile looks small, even as it breaks, like a laugh at the lateness of itself, while he waves.
A personal best over 100. First. First for -- at least the next while?
He lets his hand drop from its wave onto Victor's arm. "There's still the second group."