All he can do is watch over Yuri, and it's not a position he's used to taking up, but then, before Yuri, what did he have to protect? His career, his winning streak, Russia's dominance on the ice –– but no person. Nothing like this.
But he doesn't know if he likes it. The inability to do anything. Having nothing to do but stand here, arms crossed, and watch Yuri warm up, and try to keep him focused, and try to find something, anything to say or do that might make the tension singing in Yuri's shoulders and the worry in his face dissipate. What would Yakov say? Probably nothing very helpful. Yakov had never coddled them when they were nervous or tired: he would be barking that Yuri's lines look sloppy, that if Yuri keeps shaking like that he'll fall before he ever even gets the chance to start his program, that if he can't focus on his warm-up and flubs the routine, he'll lose his spot on the roster.
Victor doesn't think any of that will help.
But he's distracted for a moment and glances up at a sudden roar of applause from above, where Phichit Chulanont must have just finished his program, and that means it's Leo next, and then Georgi, and then Yuri. Another ten minutes, give or take, and Yuri will be on the ice whether he's ready or not, so Victor has to say something, doesn't he?
Prove he can get Yuri through this, like he promised he would, heady with confidence back in the hot spring of Yu-topia, with Yuri's bewildered face staring at him through the steam. Yuri hadn't believed him that night, and not for plenty of nights afterward, and it certainly may not have been as simple as Victor thought it would be, but he can do this. Yuri can. They can, together.
Except everything goes right out of his head when he looks back to Yuri, mouth opening to tell him to wrap up his warm-ups so they can head back, and sees Yuri staring at the ceiling of the garage, earbuds in his shaking hands, and that isn't nerves, or exhaustion on his face, stark and pale: it's fear.
Striking like an arrow directly into Victor's chest, and sending him at a run, even if Yuri's only a step away, heart sprinting into his throat, all his thoughts wiped away in a single second of desperate need to stop that face. Stop Yuri from hearing the applause. Block it all out for him.
Gloved hands landing on Yuri's ears and pressing, as if he might be able to stop Yuri from having heard the roar of the crowd a second ago, but he can't, and it makes him furious. "Don't listen!"
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Date: 2017-04-09 01:57 am (UTC)But he doesn't know if he likes it. The inability to do anything. Having nothing to do but stand here, arms crossed, and watch Yuri warm up, and try to keep him focused, and try to find something, anything to say or do that might make the tension singing in Yuri's shoulders and the worry in his face dissipate. What would Yakov say? Probably nothing very helpful. Yakov had never coddled them when they were nervous or tired: he would be barking that Yuri's lines look sloppy, that if Yuri keeps shaking like that he'll fall before he ever even gets the chance to start his program, that if he can't focus on his warm-up and flubs the routine, he'll lose his spot on the roster.
Victor doesn't think any of that will help.
But he's distracted for a moment and glances up at a sudden roar of applause from above, where Phichit Chulanont must have just finished his program, and that means it's Leo next, and then Georgi, and then Yuri. Another ten minutes, give or take, and Yuri will be on the ice whether he's ready or not, so Victor has to say something, doesn't he?
Prove he can get Yuri through this, like he promised he would, heady with confidence back in the hot spring of Yu-topia, with Yuri's bewildered face staring at him through the steam. Yuri hadn't believed him that night, and not for plenty of nights afterward, and it certainly may not have been as simple as Victor thought it would be, but he can do this. Yuri can. They can, together.
Except everything goes right out of his head when he looks back to Yuri, mouth opening to tell him to wrap up his warm-ups so they can head back, and sees Yuri staring at the ceiling of the garage, earbuds in his shaking hands, and that isn't nerves, or exhaustion on his face, stark and pale: it's fear.
Striking like an arrow directly into Victor's chest, and sending him at a run, even if Yuri's only a step away, heart sprinting into his throat, all his thoughts wiped away in a single second of desperate need to stop that face. Stop Yuri from hearing the applause. Block it all out for him.
Gloved hands landing on Yuri's ears and pressing, as if he might be able to stop Yuri from having heard the roar of the crowd a second ago, but he can't, and it makes him furious. "Don't listen!"