Victor isn't worried, even if Yuri's mind is remembering to, and Victor's right about needing keep moving, there being more to do, and somehow there's nothing under that. Nothing pinches somewhere under his skin, somewhere inside his head. He can just hear it, watch the words roll through his head, and look in the direction Victor's head is pointing him.
It's simple, straightforward, like the sun rising in the morning and setting at night, like snow coming at winter, and plants bursting green in the spring. Just truth. He might be exhausted, as wear settles like an elephant, or twelve, on his body, joints beginning to bloom into an ache everywhere bones are attached to other bones, but he's not done yet.
He needs to go smile for those cameras, as well, and this time to say things.
Yuri passes the water bottle and his new sushi plushie to Victor, before using his hands to lever himself off the bench. He's in First. First, First, First. It's bouncing around his skull. He finally did what Victor wanted, what Victor had been crestfallen about at the Championships. Over 100. And First. It's clouding up his chest.
He doesn't stumble on his way there, but it's hard to say whether he stumbles or not when the questions are being slingshotted at him and the camera light is in his eyes, and his brain won't stop saying first, first, first, while congratulations are first given and then easily left behind, like a party greeting.
Replaced with asking how is feeling now that he's won first by a landslide, and scored a personal best in his first skate at his first Grand Prix Finale qualifier and if he's just as confident the power of his love will carry him through the free skate tomorrow to the gold and does he credit his amazing win to his new coaching from five-time Grand Prix and World Champion Victor Nikiforov?
(The answer is . . . )
(The answer is even more . . .)
(The answer is of course, he does.)
He's not positive any of the answers from his mouth are anywhere as clear. Except the last one.
The relief is palpable when the attention turns to the cueing up of the second group, and Yuri is given the heads up to go on. Even though he's pretty positive the guy holding the camera is giving him an expression Yuri can't entirely parse, something that is confusion and sympathy and something else. Still, two steps away and he's out from under their gaze, and the light of the camera, stepping back to Victor who is waiting.
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Date: 2017-04-06 02:29 pm (UTC)It's simple, straightforward, like the sun rising in the morning and setting at night, like snow coming at winter, and plants bursting green in the spring. Just truth. He might be exhausted, as wear settles like an elephant, or twelve, on his body, joints beginning to bloom into an ache everywhere bones are attached to other bones, but he's not done yet.
He needs to go smile for those cameras, as well, and this time to say things.
Yuri passes the water bottle and his new sushi plushie to Victor, before using his hands to lever himself off the bench. He's in First. First, First, First. It's bouncing around his skull. He finally did what Victor wanted, what Victor had been crestfallen about at the Championships. Over 100. And First. It's clouding up his chest.
He doesn't stumble on his way there, but it's hard to say whether he stumbles or not when the questions are being slingshotted at him and the camera light is in his eyes, and his brain won't stop saying first, first, first, while congratulations are first given and then easily left behind, like a party greeting.
Replaced with asking how is feeling now that he's won first by a landslide, and scored a personal best in his first skate at his first Grand Prix Finale qualifier and if he's just as confident the power of his love will carry him through the free skate tomorrow to the gold and does he credit his amazing win to his new coaching from five-time Grand Prix and World Champion Victor Nikiforov?
(The answer is . . . )
(The answer is even more . . .)
(The answer is of course, he does.)
He's not positive any of the answers from his mouth are anywhere as clear. Except the last one.
The relief is palpable when the attention turns to the cueing up of the second group, and Yuri is given the heads up to go on. Even though he's pretty positive the guy holding the camera is giving him an expression Yuri can't entirely parse, something that is confusion and sympathy and something else. Still, two steps away and he's out from under their gaze, and the light of the camera, stepping back to Victor who is waiting.