He's never minded the attention of the press, the flash of cameras and the confused shout of questions as each interviewer tries to be heard over the others, but this isn't the tumbled chaos of a press conference, it's just a few paired off interviewers and cameramen, each focused on one coach or skater at a time, but the room is crowded, and he still likes it.
The attention. The focus. The way the interviewers all ready their questions like they're shuffling flash cards, and he's in a good mood. How could he be in anything but? Yuri won silver. Yuri did a beautiful job. Yuri did his flip.
Yuri was just there, backed against a door and pressed against his chest, and beginning to melt into his kiss.
Life, for Victor, at this precise moment, has never been better.
It shows in the brilliance of his smile and the enthusiastic way he tackles their questions: about training, about the eight months getting here, about his view of Yuri's potential, about the weekend's triumphant return to the ice for them both, in new roles.
And even when one of them –– a new person, someone he doesn't recognize –– offers the microphone with a sly smile and asks about Victor's enthusiastic response to Yuri's performance, he only laughs.
I think probably anyone in my place would have done the same thing, after a performance like that.
Which makes everyone laugh, and nod, and Victor doesn't have to explain that Yuri did his flip and suddenly rewrote every interaction and every assumption about the last eight months, or at least the last eight hours. Doesn't have to say it was the product of the larger part of two years' worth of waiting and wishing and wanting and frustration. There was nothing else he could have done. Anyone in his position would have done the same thing.
But none of it –– not the questions, not the cameras, not even his delight at enthusing to the world about Yuri's ability –– can hold a single candle to the way he lights up when Yuri comes back around the corner, in his street clothes and looking uncertain and adorable and making Victor's heart stumble all over itself like a fawn trying walk on ice. "Yuri!"
He swears the air is charged with fairy lights and popping champagne bubbles that blur everything outside Yuri, in the center of his vision. "Are you ready to go?"
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Date: 2017-04-12 02:42 pm (UTC)The attention. The focus. The way the interviewers all ready their questions like they're shuffling flash cards, and he's in a good mood. How could he be in anything but? Yuri won silver. Yuri did a beautiful job. Yuri did his flip.
Yuri was just there, backed against a door and pressed against his chest, and beginning to melt into his kiss.
Life, for Victor, at this precise moment, has never been better.
It shows in the brilliance of his smile and the enthusiastic way he tackles their questions: about training, about the eight months getting here, about his view of Yuri's potential, about the weekend's triumphant return to the ice for them both, in new roles.
And even when one of them –– a new person, someone he doesn't recognize –– offers the microphone with a sly smile and asks about Victor's enthusiastic response to Yuri's performance, he only laughs.
I think probably anyone in my place would have done the same thing, after a performance like that.
Which makes everyone laugh, and nod, and Victor doesn't have to explain that Yuri did his flip and suddenly rewrote every interaction and every assumption about the last eight months, or at least the last eight hours. Doesn't have to say it was the product of the larger part of two years' worth of waiting and wishing and wanting and frustration. There was nothing else he could have done. Anyone in his position would have done the same thing.
But none of it –– not the questions, not the cameras, not even his delight at enthusing to the world about Yuri's ability –– can hold a single candle to the way he lights up when Yuri comes back around the corner, in his street clothes and looking uncertain and adorable and making Victor's heart stumble all over itself like a fawn trying walk on ice. "Yuri!"
He swears the air is charged with fairy lights and popping champagne bubbles that blur everything outside Yuri, in the center of his vision. "Are you ready to go?"
Victor is. Has been. Was ready an hour ago.