Time is time is time. He gets showered and combs his hair back while Victor is showering. The room silent, except for the water falling in the shower on the other side of the door. Victor's already prepped his stuff, and he has nothing really to do but comb his hair back and wait for Victor.
Who, unlike every other thought for more minutes or hours than even seems sane to himself, seems just as calm and prepared and absolutely nothing like Yuri's head had blown him up to be. Because he isn't. (He isn't.) Barely more minutes, scattershot, too fast, too slow, and Victor's done, Victor's ready, and they are leaving the room, and the hotel. Taking the walk back to the Oriental Sports Center.
The chill of the air makes him at least feel the skin on his neck and his ears more than the mostly nothing, while he watched the building getting closer and closer, more details standing out on every part of it. The next time he was outside of it would be the other side of the whole men's free skate competition. The whole answer of whether he'd never see it again, or be back tomorrow.
A divergence of direction and doors so that they don't have to deal with the fans still pouring into the building for their seats.
Inside he listens, as much out of obedience as it is out of simply having nothing better to tell himself, but he doesn't start warming up immediately. He's going to have the better part of nearly an hour to wait even after they get started. Which is soon, but still isn't now. It's easier to find something else. A chair that isn't very in the way, and then that's not really working, so maybe if he gets himself some water before they call for the warm-up to start.
Something to calm the churning in his stomach while he goes over what he should do for his warm up. Trying to focus. (Which jumps need the most focus.) Trying. (Which step sequence to focus on after this morning).
But he ends up distracted when his fingers make it impossible to actually open the bottle of water in his hand, uncertain if it's just stuck or if it's that he's actually shaking too hard to grip it properly and make it open.
no subject
Who, unlike every other thought for more minutes or hours than even seems sane to himself, seems just as calm and prepared and absolutely nothing like Yuri's head had blown him up to be. Because he isn't. (He isn't.) Barely more minutes, scattershot, too fast, too slow, and Victor's done, Victor's ready, and they are leaving the room, and the hotel. Taking the walk back to the Oriental Sports Center.
The chill of the air makes him at least feel the skin on his neck and his ears more than the mostly nothing, while he watched the building getting closer and closer, more details standing out on every part of it. The next time he was outside of it would be the other side of the whole men's free skate competition. The whole answer of whether he'd never see it again, or be back tomorrow.
A divergence of direction and doors so that they don't have to deal with the fans still pouring into the building for their seats.
Inside he listens, as much out of obedience as it is out of simply having nothing better to tell himself, but he doesn't start warming up immediately. He's going to have the better part of nearly an hour to wait even after they get started. Which is soon, but still isn't now. It's easier to find something else. A chair that isn't very in the way, and then that's not really working, so maybe if he gets himself some water before they call for the warm-up to start.
Something to calm the churning in his stomach while he goes over what he should do for his warm up.
Trying to focus. (Which jumps need the most focus.) Trying. (Which step sequence to focus on after this morning).
But he ends up distracted when his fingers make it impossible to actually open the bottle of water in his hand,
uncertain if it's just stuck or if it's that he's actually shaking too hard to grip it properly and make it open.