theglassheart: [ Fanart ] : { Google Images } (Default)
[personal profile] theglassheart
If Yuri thought the night before this one never ended, he was wrong. It's this newest night that feels like it never ends. Oppressive, pressing, darkness, digging into his eyes, his mouth, his nose, his ears, while Victor breathed heavy and easy in the adjoining bed. Yuri had tried to sleep. Turning this way, turning that way, staring at the backs of his eyelids toward the ceiling, pressing his face into his pillow. He tried and tried and tried (and most of all found himself trying not to let his breathing race so fast it might wake Victor).

The evening had been bearable, if not entirely enjoyable or unenjoyable. Less stressful than the one before it, if only marginally, while Phichit and Victor drug him from place to place. Too late for museums or anything with middaytime, there had been rather quick tours through the Yu Garden, the Oriental Pearl Tower, and the Jade Buddha Temple, and in the cases of closed doors, pictures with their iconic buildings. As well as everything else that looked interesting between them.

It took forever, and then it was just over.

He'd enjoyed some of it, but none of it stuck for long.
Not even the late calls from his family and Yuu-san had.

Not with the Free Skate looming. Not with every single person he was skating with gunning for where he was standing, and every person watching wondering if he could somehow pull out o f himself the miraculous performance that had seemed to come from almost nowhere. Like it hadn't even belonged to him. How many times had he performed Eros and it'd never been that?

How badly would it be when (if - when) tomorrow couldn't match it?
What would they say about him, then? What would they say about Victor, then?

Yuri would fall asleep only to startle awake what could only have been seconds later, nerves sharpening with each new jolt, until it felt like ice was splintering more and stabbing up harder through every part of his veins, until each second asleep seemed to only contain the certainty he would fall, he would fail, he would forget. He could never reach whatever he'd touched for that brief two minutes and eighteen seconds.

It'd been a fluke. He'd only dreamed it. He couldn't explain it. He couldn't sleep.
Every minute in that dark reaching, but, also, clutching his pillow.
Eyelids clenched tight, or eyes open, staring at the other bed.


Over and over, he counted his breaths down.
Over and over, he repeated that he had and he could.
Over and over, he told himself this was all in his head.

Over and over, he slipped right back as soon as it finished.




That morning comes at all only changes the color of the sky.

Breakfast is a blur, piling food into himself, like maybe it would give him any solidness. Weigh him to the seat, to the ground, to reality. It should be impossible, but his head feels even heavier than his body. Hot water had shaken some tension from his skin, but none at all from his mind. It hadn't mattered whether he was in the bed, in the shower, in a booth, at a table.

His foot tapped under the table, all the way up to his knee and thigh, and in the moments he could make himself stop, his fingers drum against the side of his thigh or the seat instead. Desperate to try and keep it from Victor's sight, when Victor won't stop looking at him, smiling like that, talking about how Eros was perfect, and what he should do as soon as they arrived at practice.

How would he look when he realized Yuri couldn't reproduce what he done. Couldn't even look at the things that compounded to get him there. Words Victor'd said, but entirely in a different way than he'd said them. That Yuri'd blown them out of proportion and reality out there, during Eros. What would he do if Yuri couldn't place at all?

What would he do when everyone no longer was cheering his name as the reason Yuri had done so well? When there would only be that gut-wrenching pity on every face and Victor's name was smeared with his failures the same as his already was? Why was he even going to put himself through that? Why was Yuri?





Practice is a comedy of uncertainty.
He doesn't even want to return to the wall and Victor during it.

His feet hardly feel like they belong to his body, and thinking about love doesn't produce his love, his family, Hasetsu, or Victor, it brings up more and more knots in his guts. It tears up the ice under him with images of last year, of every fall, of every day spent in his bed, avoid being awake, avoiding the rink, Celestino, Phichit. The flip of what that could -- will -- look like again.

Except at home. Except with his parents, and Minako, and Yuu-san, and his family.

Their sad faces, their disappointment, as Victor's back went vanishing away in the background of his loss.

Even the ease of his long earned and long loved turns seems to be slipping from him when his focus won't pull itself together. At full speed it makes it a fumble of something he hasn't fumbled in half his life, even if he doesn't fall. It's better the next time, and gone the third, but it still there. He can do this. He can. He's done it how many hundreds and thousands of times.

It makes him sloppy. It makes him reckless. It makes him stubborn. It makes him hesitate.

It ends all too soon. The alarm sounding for them to come in, and he trails in.

Date: 2017-04-28 12:49 am (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by niedola (amused)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp
Yuri looks like he wants to say no, which would probably be another lie, but at the last second, he scrunches up his face cutely and admits that it probably does want the ice, which Victor has to agree with. He's all too familiar with the stiffness and soreness after even a perfect performance, and there isn't a skater out there who doesn't appreciate a hot bath and some ice after a slam like Yuri's. "Okay, then I'll just be a minute."

First, he has to find the ice bag from before, and then he has to search for the room key (on the table by a lamp), and then he has to organize everything so he can hang onto the ice bag and laundry bag while pushing the cart, the room key clutched in one hand because these sweatpants don't have any pockets, and it all feels strangely domestic and normal.

Even if it's actually still strange, for them. This is their first competition away from Hasetsu, and only their third night in this hotel. All his memories of this being normal are from his own competition trips, and even that isn't quite the same: normally, he'd be alone. Normally, he'd be out at this time, with Chris, in all likelihood, hitting the town and enjoying himself, or he'd be lying on that bed alone with ice and a cold beer, watching his own performance to figure out how he could do it better, the next time.

Doing it all for someone else still feels strange, even as it doesn't, and it's the same feeling he gets when he reminds Yuri: "Drink some more water, okay?"

He's never spent this long this focused on someone other than himself. And yet, he can't imagine going back to how it was before. "I'll be right back."

Date: 2017-04-28 02:09 am (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by me (in search of silver linings)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp
The door clicks closed behind him, and he immediately wants to open it again, to take it back. Just like before, there's a sudden horrible image of pushing it open to find Yuri gone, or (worse?) Yuri absolutely unchanged, because everything that happened was a figment of Victor's over-active imagination, months of frustration, and delight with Yuri's performance.

(But he didn't make it up. It all happened. It would keep happening. Isn't he the one who told Yuri it's real and promised to prove it all over again in the morning?)

All of it good motivation to go about his business as quickly as possible: pushing the food cart to one side of the door, and hanging the dry cleaning bag from the door handle with the note clearly visible, before padding his way down the hallway toward the ice machine for the second time tonight. His bare feet make almost no sound on the hotel carpet, and it makes him smile to himself, this image: Victor Nikiforov, always impeccably dressed, a face that has graced billboards and sold products and been photographed almost as many times as he's walked outside, wandering a hotel hall in an old t-shirt and sweatpants and bare feet.

And not caring at all.

It's comfortable. He's learned to be comfortable over the last few months: comfortable with himself, comfortable with the Katsukis and Minako. Has learned to relax in the hot spring and on the beach, and realized that not every day needs to be pushed a little harder than the day before.

It's almost like he's finally learned how to be a real person, and he finds he enjoys it.





All things that roll through his thoughts as he scoops ice into the plastic bag and seals it back up again, before heading back to the room with the key card flipping impatient between his fingers, and how could the room be this far away? How have they been back only an hour, or less, when it feels like days have passed?

He doesn't know, only knows it's a relief when the door clicks open and he can step inside, blinking in the dimmer light. "Yuri? I'm back."

Date: 2017-04-28 11:03 am (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by cherrytini (everyone needs a vacation)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp
For a second, Yuri's nowhere to be seen and there's a clenching in his gut –– but then that voice comes from behind the bathroom door and he relaxes, trying not to think about how his heart rate skyrocketed in less than a second, or the way his stomach dropped somewhere toward his hips.

"Okay, the ice is out here for you when you want it."

But it feels strange, now, this room. Even if this is only the third night, and only the first time overall, even if he has far more experience with being alone in a hotel room than with someone, it feels strange to be in it by himself. (Except he's not, Yuri's still here, just behind a closed door that Victor hopes he won't hide behind all night.) To distract himself, he rummages in his trouser pockets in the closet for his phone, but doesn't thumb it on. Someone else might try to play it cool by sitting there, scrolling through their phone when Yuri comes back out, but he doesn't want to play it cool, doesn't want this to feel like any normal night.

He ends up just plugging it in to the charging cable he'd set up on the side table near the head of the bed, and collapses back onto the bed itself with a sigh, the ice landing next to him on the comforter. It feels good to stretch out, after being so wound up with Yuri's weight on his lap and tension in his back: his knuckles brush the headboard and his toes stretch out past the end of the mattress, but it feels good, and it feels even better when he relaxes to just look up at the ceiling.

Different, and not different. He still doesn't know what changed, or when, or if it did, and even if it doesn't matter, he still wants to. Is wistful for it, the knowledge that there was some point in time when maybe Yuri felt the same way he has over these last few months, despite all evidence to the contrary. Is it really just because Victor kissed him? And if it is ...

How good is that, really?

For someone who has always avoided responsibility, he's a little bewildered to be holding so much of it now. Feeling responsible for Yuri. For his programs. His coaching. His mental and emotional state, as well as his physical one. Everything a coach should worry about, that makes Victor sympathize with every strand of Yakov's lost hair, but then, also ––

His first kiss. His first ... anything else that happens tonight, that Victor is aware he needs to be careful with, in a way he hasn't been since ... ever? And already he's almost lost it more than once.

He's got to do better. This is too important to screw up.

Date: 2017-04-28 01:27 pm (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by niedola (content and conversational)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp
Yuri still has that look on his face.

Maybe not the exact one, but something similar: it's not quite wariness, and it isn't exactly uncertainty. It's something like the held breath before a curtain lifts, or the moment of tension on the ice right before the music starts. Something like expectation. Like he's waiting for something he isn't sure if he should be bracing himself for or not.

Which makes Victor push himself up onto a hip and one elbow, to reach over and pat the spot on the comforter next to the makeshift ice pack, inviting. "Come sit with me?"

Making it a question, instead of an order, because Yuri would probably just follow his commands like he usually does, and Victor doesn't want that. He doesn't want this to be the night he kissed Yuri and kept kissing Yuri and dragged Yuri onto his lap and Yuri just went along with it, without choosing any of it. He doesn't even know what Yuri really wants, because even if they keep falling into these burned-out moments of lost control, Yuri's still only kissed him of his own volition once that Victor can recall.

Seems unsure about touching him. About any of this.

So Victor leaves him room, and just rolls to his side to prop his head on his hand and watch what choice Yuri makes. If he wants to think through all of this, that's fine –– understandable, even. If he wants to talk about it, or not, or even if he wants to call a halt for now ...

Well, it's all fine. Some of those would be better, more pleasant options than others, but Victor can roll along with them, he thinks, as long as Yuri doesn't opt to just run away, instead.

Date: 2017-04-28 08:36 pm (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by me (let's go to the ocean)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp
The silence in this room is stifling. It's quiet enough to hear the springs in the mattress squeak when Yuri sits down, quiet enough to hear the ice shift when Yuri picks up the pack to set it against his hip. Quiet in a way it hasn't been with them in a long time. Quiet in a way that Victor finds unsettling.

So, he may as well shatter it. "It's okay to not quite be sure about all this, Yuri."

It doesn't matter how sure he is. He's had years to come to these conclusions, and he'd fought against them nearly all the way. It hasn't been easy for him, either. "I did kind of spring it on you all at once."

Which is a little rueful. He's not sorry –– couldn't be, would have no idea how to pretend he is, because he feels more free now than he has in months, in longer, and he's never been someone who apologizes for his feelings. If it hurts Yuri, of course, he'd never want to do that, wouldn't feel a thousand apologies could be enough, but ––

For loving him? For wanting this?

He'll never be sorry for either of those things.

But he smiles a little, his bangs sliding toward his ear and obscuring the vision in his left eye even more than usual, but the right, which is watching Yuri, is soft. "Normally, like this, we'd be talking about the programs today, right? Everything that you did right, everything you did wrong, how we're going to make it even better. Or maybe we'd just talk about the day, and how you're feeling, or what Minako wants you to practice."

Everything they've gotten used to, all the precious familiarity they've found, all these little moments Victor treasures so much. "I miss that, a little, right now."

Not the topics themselves, but the ease of it. The way Yuri never before now looked wary of sitting down on Victor's bed, would come collapse on it as if it were his own to complain or talk or watch videos together of past programs, past excellence.

That's what he misses, or wants. Yuri said I'm not afraid of him, but even if this isn't fear, it's ... something, that's holding him apart, aloof, detached, and Victor wants it gone, wants to throw a rope across this yawning chasm and pull Yuri to shore. "You can still talk to me about whatever's on your mind, Yuri. Even if you think I won't like it."

Maybe especially then. This has to be both of them.

Date: 2017-04-28 10:34 pm (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by me (humph)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp
He wonders if any of this has to do with Yuri's meltdown in the garage, but dismisses it. The skate had been incredible, wonderful, and it had certainly seemed like it had put Yuri's fears mostly to rest, and, anyway, it's probably ridiculous to think that any of what Yuri's thinking about now has to do with what happened before Victor tackled him onto the ice. Everything else just seems to be taking a back seat in comparison.

Which is probably how it should be, even if how it should be doesn't include Yuri sitting so stiffly over there like he's afraid to push past some invisible line and accidentally touch Victor. "It'll be easier to ice your hip if you lie down."

That doesn't have anything to do with what he'd just said, or Yuri's response, and it doesn't even help with the frustration in Yuri's voice, and he wonders if now is the time to offer to just kiss him again, but that seems ... wrong, right? Probably wrong. Probably something Minako would have him by the ear for, while Yuuko hid her exasperated expression in her palm because it turns out Victor really isn't all that good with people.

Not up close and personal. Not when his own feelings are a confused mess. Or, were. They aren't anymore. Everything exists in perfect clarity for him on that count: what he doesn't know is what to do.

Which makes him sigh, disappointed with himself. "Ah, I'm not very good at this." Something he said before and is likely to say again, but that's only because it's almost certainly going to remain true. "What should I do? Can I hug you? Will that help?"

It'll help him, anyway, and that's probably why, even as he's asking, he's scooting over to butt his head into Yuri's side and reach to wrap arms around his middle, temple pressing into Yuri's stomach, which makes this next sigh sound entirely different: less disappointed, more content, deeply affectionate. "Oh, you're comfortable."

Half mumbled into Yuri's shirt in surprised gratitude, while his shoulders slump in delighted relaxation, blithely ignoring the fact that he'll have to move, if Yuri's going to follow his advice.

Date: 2017-04-29 12:11 am (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by me (beautiful dreamer)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp
There's a low sound he makes at those first words, and a lift of his shoulders, and against Yuri's stomach, Victor's expression is rueful. "If I were doing it right, it would be easier for you."

But that's not right, either, and he remembers the beach ––

(no one thinks you're weak, Yuri)

–– and puffs out a breath, wanting to clarify. "I don't mean you need things to be easy. But I want to make it easier for you."

Easier to talk. Easier to relax. Easier to breathe. Easier to ... do this, Yuri's hand landing carefully on his shoulder, and making Victor huff out another breath. This one heavy and contended, with no wry undertones, while his skin prickles gently under the palm and fingers that drifts across his shoulder, to the top of his arm. "That feels good."

Yuri might not know what to say, but Victor usually doesn't know what to keep to himself, so between the two of them, they make actually get somewhere.

Which might actually be true, and not just hopefulness talking, when Yuri starts searching for words, somewhere above Victor's head. "It seems so what?"

Date: 2017-04-29 01:16 am (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by me (think think think)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp
Yuri's hand pauses, and lifts, and Victor is just about to look up and say ... something, he doesn't know what, about how Yuri doesn't have to touch him if he doesn't want to, even if the prospect makes him die a little inside, but before he can, there's a faint touch on his shoulder, tracking towards the center of his back, that has him shivering and arching up into it like a cat. He can't help it; it's such a novelty, being touched. Being touched by Yuri.

People don't do that, with him. Not Yakov. Not Chris. Nobody.

He'd forgotten how every single cell in his body could feel so attuned to the drag of a single finger. He'd forgotten how many nerves exist in the space of a few inches at the back of his shoulder, just under the collar of his shirt.

It's almost enough to make him miss that small word, that single, tiny word, but it drops into the silence of the room, and this time, Victor's grateful for the quiet. "Why stupid?"

Less tiny and less careful, but just as quiet, while his arms tighten around Yuri, one hand uncurling to settle gently over his ribs, thumb stroking softly back and forth over his shirt. "What's stupid?"

Date: 2017-04-29 02:23 am (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by me (let's go to the ocean)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp
Yuri's fingers reach the far edge of his collar, and start tracking slowly back, and Victor's pretty sure he could fall asleep right here, just like this, under that touch. Head on Yuri's stomach, instead of his chest like it was earlier, arms wrapped all the way around him, every conscious thought slowly drifting along with that light touch.

But he can't fall asleep, because Yuri is still talking. Talking more, even, expanding on a few words that drop like pebbles and expand outwards in quiet ripples, and finally give Victor something to grasp onto, something to try and fix. "That isn't stupid."

None of it is. He might find it more alarming if Yuri did know what to say, considering. "I know that may sound useless, but it's still true."

He takes a deep breath, lets it out slow and content. Yuri smells clean and Yuri's shirt smells like Yuri, and it's a heady combination, leaves him wanting to bury his face into Yuri's stomach and never resurface. "I think it's probably pretty normal."

From his own limited experience, and what he's heard and seen. "It's complicated, and not everyone is good at talking about it." Maybe most aren't. How many novels and poems and operas in Russia end tragically simply because the characters residing in them have no idea how to say what they feel?

"If you want ... pick something small, and focus on it. Like when we started working on your step sequence, remember?" Drilling each piece step by step, until the whole thing came together in a single, fluid, perfect sweep. "And go from there."

Date: 2017-04-29 03:33 am (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by cherrytini (the hottest bachelor in the world)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp
It's not so bad, this. Lying here with his head in Yuri's lap, arms around Yuri's waist, while Yuri's fingers draw slow lines back and forth across his shoulders and they're finally getting somewhere. Slow and halting, maybe. Even if there's a slight pause, and a faint huff of breath that sounds like Yuri doesn't believe him.

He's not surprised, but he ought to argue it, except then there's a butterfly's kiss of a touch on the thin skin at the crook of his neck, and his eyes, which had been slipping closed, open wide. That's –– Yuri's ––

He can't freeze up, but he doesn't know how to describe the sudden buzz of full body tension that strings through him, like a sequence of lights flicking on. It's barely a touch at all, so light he can barely feel it, can track it as much by the trail of lifted fine hairs and goosebumps that try to follow it as the fingertips themselves. Tipping his head on instinct to lengthen his throat, and give him more room, while his heart starts pounding.

Again. He won't have to do his cardio all week, if this keeps up.

But Yuri's saying something, at the same time, which Victor finds deeply unfair. How is he supposed to be able to pay attention to words, when all he can hear is the rush of blood in his own ears?

Except he has to. It's important. Yuri saying he doesn't like it, the not knowing what to say. Not wanting to go back to being that way.

Not wanting to go back to being that way with him. "I don't want that, either." If he's lost Yuri's trust, or everything they've built up together, everything that makes Yuri want to confide in him and joke with him and tease him and talk to him about anything, everything ...

He wouldn't change this. Even if he had to chance, he wouldn't go back in time and un-kiss Yuri, not say all those things he said or do all those things he did, but ––

But if they've lost that, how will this ever work? "Nothing about ..." He trails off, wondering what it is he's trying to say. What distinction he's trying to make. How to help Yuri understand that this, them, him, it hasn't changed. Not like that. Not enough to mean Yuri can't talk to him anymore. "... before is different. There's just, just –– more on top of it, now."

He's still who he was yesterday, and who he was with Yuri yesterday, and Yuri could talk to him yesterday. Sort of. "Is it really –– does it feel ––"

He's not sure he wants to finish that question, not sure he wants to hear the answer, but it should be asked. "That different? With me?"

When the only thing that's really changed is that Yuri knows, now. But maybe that's all it takes.

Date: 2017-04-29 11:45 am (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by cherrytini (huh?)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp
Yuri's fingers trace a cool path up along his neck, towards the base of his skull, and he's trying not to let it ruin him, but it's all getting a little difficult. Wanting to push up into that touch. To turn over so he can catch those fingers and kiss them. Breath coming a little more shallowly as his pulse picks up and stays there, thrumming like a wingbeat under his skin.

Unable to keep himself from shifting a little more closely to Yuri, until he's lying with his chest against Yuri's hip and his stomach against Yuri's one extended leg, eyes open and listening, feeling a little like Yuri's just talking to the room and he's eavesdropping on something that isn't his business. "Different doesn't have to be bad."

If it is different. And how could it not be? He's just surprised by it because he's never felt any other way about Yuri, has only ever started out lost and only fallen in deeper. For him, none of this is new, except for Yuri's fingers against his throat, and Yuri melting into his kisses, and Yuri knowing everything.

But it's true, too. He's spent his life and career trying to be different, chasing surprises, never settling for doing the same thing twice. Different can be an adventure, something new and exciting, and even if what they had was good, it can always get better.

Underneath it all, he's still him, no matter how Yuri might scoff at that simple statement, and Yuri is still Yuri. The important parts haven't changed.

He hopes.

Date: 2017-04-29 01:06 pm (UTC)
fivetimechamp: by cherrytini (*blush*)
From: [personal profile] fivetimechamp
Yuri might say something in response. It's certainly a possibility, but if he does, Victor misses it.

For a good reason, though. For a very good reason, that very good reason being that Yuri's fingertips are tracing along his jaw up towards his ear, and he'd forgotten how sensitive that skin is. Hasn't thought about it in years, only ever touches it himself when he's pushing his hair back over his ears or rubbing at his jaw while deep in thought.

Not like this. Yuri's finger almost too light to feel, moving almost unbearably slowly, so gentle it could just be an errant breeze, but it isn't. It's Yuri, touching him. On purpose. Yuri, tracing along the edge of his jaw like he might find the answers he's looking for at the end of this path he's taking, while Victor's heart squeezes and founders and stumbles all over itself in surprised, confused need.

Needing more. Needing Yuri never to stop. Needing to stay absolutely still so Yuri won't snatch his hand away, but needing to push into it, too, to ask for his fingers to keep going, keep melting Victor away drop by drop down the back of his own skull.

A tiny sound that would probably be embarrassingly needy if he heard it, or cared, escaping as Yuri's fingers slip around the curve of his ear and tuck a few strands of hair back, while Victor's arms tighten and he buries his face in Yuri's shirt and stomach, sighing huge and shaky.

There was something he'd been thinking, but he's lost it, which is probably just as well: he can't imagine caring about absolutely anything else in this moment.

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theglassheart: [ Fanart ] : { Google Images } (Default)
勝生 勇利, Katsuki Yūri

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