The problem is, now that he's here, with his hands against Yuri's ears, he doesn't know what else to do.
(Above, there's music: Leo de Iglesia.)
What can he do? He'd thought Yuri was tired, but Yuri didn't sleep. He thought Yuri was anxious, but this is unlike any attack of nerves he's ever seen. Why is he so nervous? He isn't throwing up or breaking down, he's just ... dissolving. Right under Victor's hands, and Victor is powerless to stop it, because he doesn't know what's going on, or why. If Yuri were a younger skater, he could understand being affected by the other skaters' rankings –– but Yuri isn't young. Not like that. He's been in this world for years, has competed at the national and world level on multiple occasions. Sure, he'd broken down two years ago, but two years ago, he hadn't had the last eight months of work, or programs built especially for his strengths and story and music. Two years ago he didn't have Victor, because Victor decided to hate him a little for making him fall in love instead of come to Japan like Yuri asked him to.
Because Victor was proud, and petty. And now, Victor doesn't know what to do.
How can he motivate Yuri?
He has no idea, and he hates that even more than he hates the way his heart dropped a second ago when he'd looked down to see raw panic written bare across Yuri's face. Standing here with his hands muffling Yuri's ears ... is this really being a coach? Is this doing what's best for Yuri? All day, he's been trying to be positive, optimistic, to try and lighten the mood, but was that actually beneficial, or was it a selfish reaction to Yuri's anxiety, to try and make him feel better, instead of fixing the problem before it spun out?
Did he cause this, because he didn't know what to do? Because he placed wanting Yuri to be happy over Yuri's ability to perform?
Maybe his question is answered when Yuri gently pries his hands away from the sides of his head and tells him they have to go, and this isn't right, his skater isn't the one who should be saying that. He should. He's the coach. He has to be a coach.
What would Yakov do?
Yakov believed that applying enough pressure would turn his skaters into beautiful masterpieces, but more often than not, they shattered first along the way. Perfection from pressure, beauty from pain. Skaters might be strong as diamonds, but their hearts are as fragile as glass. Maybe he's been trying for the wrong kind of motivation all along. Maybe Yuri needs something more substantial.
Or maybe he needs someone else to take the pressure off his shoulders.
"Yuri."
If they're so fragile ... maybe Victor should try shattering his into pieces. Maybe Victor needs to take the blame, and be the enemy, so Yuri can stop blaming himself, and fighting himself.
His footsteps have stopped, so Victor turns, hand digging into his forehead and hair, before sliding to the back of his neck. "If you mess up this free skate and miss the podium, I'll take responsibility by resigning as your coach."
It's the only thing he even has to give, isn't it?
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(Above, there's music: Leo de Iglesia.)
What can he do? He'd thought Yuri was tired, but Yuri didn't sleep. He thought Yuri was anxious, but this is unlike any attack of nerves he's ever seen. Why is he so nervous? He isn't throwing up or breaking down, he's just ... dissolving. Right under Victor's hands, and Victor is powerless to stop it, because he doesn't know what's going on, or why. If Yuri were a younger skater, he could understand being affected by the other skaters' rankings –– but Yuri isn't young. Not like that. He's been in this world for years, has competed at the national and world level on multiple occasions. Sure, he'd broken down two years ago, but two years ago, he hadn't had the last eight months of work, or programs built especially for his strengths and story and music. Two years ago he didn't have Victor, because Victor decided to hate him a little for making him fall in love instead of come to Japan like Yuri asked him to.
Because Victor was proud, and petty. And now, Victor doesn't know what to do.
How can he motivate Yuri?
He has no idea, and he hates that even more than he hates the way his heart dropped a second ago when he'd looked down to see raw panic written bare across Yuri's face. Standing here with his hands muffling Yuri's ears ... is this really being a coach? Is this doing what's best for Yuri? All day, he's been trying to be positive, optimistic, to try and lighten the mood, but was that actually beneficial, or was it a selfish reaction to Yuri's anxiety, to try and make him feel better, instead of fixing the problem before it spun out?
Did he cause this, because he didn't know what to do? Because he placed wanting Yuri to be happy over Yuri's ability to perform?
Maybe his question is answered when Yuri gently pries his hands away from the sides of his head and tells him they have to go, and this isn't right, his skater isn't the one who should be saying that. He should. He's the coach. He has to be a coach.
What would Yakov do?
Yakov believed that applying enough pressure would turn his skaters into beautiful masterpieces, but more often than not, they shattered first along the way. Perfection from pressure, beauty from pain. Skaters might be strong as diamonds, but their hearts are as fragile as glass. Maybe he's been trying for the wrong kind of motivation all along. Maybe Yuri needs something more substantial.
Or maybe he needs someone else to take the pressure off his shoulders.
"Yuri."
If they're so fragile ... maybe Victor should try shattering his into pieces. Maybe Victor needs to take the blame, and be the enemy, so Yuri can stop blaming himself, and fighting himself.
His footsteps have stopped, so Victor turns, hand digging into his forehead and hair, before sliding to the back of his neck. "If you mess up this free skate and miss the podium, I'll take responsibility by resigning as your coach."
It's the only thing he even has to give, isn't it?