None of this feels like it's touching him at all. Not his feet on the floor, not the questions from the interviewers, not congratulating Phichit and Chris. Nothing seems to be leaving a mark at all, except for this itch under his skin that's saying go, go, go, go, that's looking for any possibility of a break in the flood of people, faces, questions, that require him to be polite and pay attention.
It's not hard, necessarily. Yesterday's exuberance is nothing to this giddy exhilaration, and the interviewers and cameras are soaking it up, and any other day he'd be happy to oblige, but any other day, Yuri would never have looked at him like that, soft and surprised and smiling. Any other day, the only things he could look forward to after leaving would be a celebratory dinner and an enjoyable dissection of Yuri's performance.
Any other day, Yuri wouldn't be standing there awkwardly, like he doesn't know what comes next: he'd be gone to change while Victor held court with the cameras, and Victor would just find him later.
But it's not any other day. It's this one, and Victor doesn't want to wait anymore.
(Twenty minutes, eight months, two years –– he's done waiting.)
The last thing he wants is for Yuri to walk off on his own, to vanish from his line of sight, but is there an option for gracefully extricating himself from these cameras and microphones to follow him? There isn't, but it takes only a second's worth of self-examination before he decides he doesn't care, and waves to the surprised press to take quick steps towards Yuri. "Think of some better questions ––"
Grinning at their laughter, even as he's directing Yuri away, down the hall, towards the locker room. "–– I'll be right back!"
Not unusual, for him to accompany Yuri to the locker room, to discuss his performance and how he's feeling, check in on any bumps and bruises or muscle sprains.
More unusual, probably, for him to grab Yuri's wrist once they're around the corner, and drag him into the room like it's the only place he can breathe, which might be true, since it's followed by crowding Yuri into the door, hands cupping his jaw, which solves two immediate concerns: the first being that someone might try to come into the locker room and attempt to use it as a locker room, which is unacceptable, and the second being that Yuri has been further than pressed directly against his body for the last twenty minutes, which was unlivable.
He should take a second to check in. He should give Yuri the opportunity to push him away. He should consider that maybe that moment on the ice was a fluke, allowed only because Yuri was so pleased with his performance.
But that means waiting, and waiting is impossible, so a quick flash of a smile and the low "there are too many people out there," is just about all he can offer by way of warning, before he's leaning to kiss Yuri again.
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It's not hard, necessarily. Yesterday's exuberance is nothing to this giddy exhilaration, and the interviewers and cameras are soaking it up, and any other day he'd be happy to oblige, but any other day, Yuri would never have looked at him like that, soft and surprised and smiling. Any other day, the only things he could look forward to after leaving would be a celebratory dinner and an enjoyable dissection of Yuri's performance.
Any other day, Yuri wouldn't be standing there awkwardly, like he doesn't know what comes next: he'd be gone to change while Victor held court with the cameras, and Victor would just find him later.
But it's not any other day. It's this one, and Victor doesn't want to wait anymore.
(Twenty minutes, eight months, two years –– he's done waiting.)
The last thing he wants is for Yuri to walk off on his own, to vanish from his line of sight, but is there an option for gracefully extricating himself from these cameras and microphones to follow him? There isn't, but it takes only a second's worth of self-examination before he decides he doesn't care, and waves to the surprised press to take quick steps towards Yuri. "Think of some better questions ––"
Grinning at their laughter, even as he's directing Yuri away, down the hall, towards the locker room. "–– I'll be right back!"
Not unusual, for him to accompany Yuri to the locker room, to discuss his performance and how he's feeling, check in on any bumps and bruises or muscle sprains.
More unusual, probably, for him to grab Yuri's wrist once they're around the corner, and drag him into the room like it's the only place he can breathe, which might be true, since it's followed by crowding Yuri into the door, hands cupping his jaw, which solves two immediate concerns: the first being that someone might try to come into the locker room and attempt to use it as a locker room, which is unacceptable, and the second being that Yuri has been further than pressed directly against his body for the last twenty minutes, which was unlivable.
He should take a second to check in. He should give Yuri the opportunity to push him away. He should consider that maybe that moment on the ice was a fluke, allowed only because Yuri was so pleased with his performance.
But that means waiting, and waiting is impossible, so a quick flash of a smile and the low "there are too many people out there," is just about all he can offer by way of warning, before he's leaning to kiss Yuri again.