If he was certain last night was the most shocked he'd ever seen Yakov, when Victor asked him to take Yuri, it almost has nothing on the face Yakov is making when he pulls back. Faster than he would have any other time. Because. Because why. Because something is off. And it slips under the sand, back in the grey spots and cheering crowds, as Yakov is looking down at him and maybe they are two different animals.
Maybe the shocked confusion on his face last night is the one reserved for Victor,
and the one looking at him now, like he's utterly foreign and alien is his.
The rest is still too much of a blur. An interviewer ask him how it feels to be in third place ... and he says something. He barely has the acuity to clarify that he's aware he is and isn't. JJ is going on next, JJ who won gold yesterday, and he knows what that could mean, but he can't touch it. It's hazy. When his answer isn't declarative enough for them, they ask for Victor would feel about it, and Yuri blinks.
Yuri gets so far as putting Victor's name in room with JJ, his thoughts about his score comparing to JJ, and --
Suddenly Yakov is snapping something so sharp, short, and blunt it can't be more than ten words, that makes even Yuri jumps from the crack of the first word. But it's the reporter still looks like he just got hit in the face with a ruler for implying something dirty. Swallowing and trying to play it off as a joke. That, of course, his coach must be proud of him wherever he is. There was never a question.
Yakov gives the man a look Yuri is sure he never wants to be on the receiving end of and says he's leaving to find Yurio.
Where Yuri ends up will be settled within ten minutes, but where Yurio will be already is all but set. He'll medal no matter what JJ manages to pull off. It's understanable, and he's Yurio's coach. He hadn't even gotten to congratulate him on getting first place, because he had to be there, at Yuri's side, for his skate. Yuri doesn't watch him go, because there are still more reporters, other reports asking him questions now, and JJ's performance is starting, too, behind them all.
His jumps are flawless right out of the gate, and his confidence is loud in every single movement he makes, and Yuri feels clarity coming to him with the weight of the building starting to drag down his stomach. Churning with the still unhappy juice, and siezing around it, like it's an invader. When JJ even makes his hydroblade look majestic, the tips of wings on his fingers that barely grace the ice itself, Yuri wants to slink off towards where the curtains to go backstage are.
He doesn't want to be out here to watch the rest of it.
(He doesn't need anyone to tell him how this part goes. He knows this part better than he knows this whole year.)
The audience is going crazy. The way it did for Yurio, and Michele. Which makes it even more confusing when, right off stage from them, he, and everyone near him, stop to listen to the people who are speculating up about his scores to go with these, and for a moment he can't even comprehend the words he hears. Until he does. Until he looks back to JJ. (JJ will take first, take gold, in the freeskate.) Posing on the ice. (Which would slide him into fourth.) The stylized double J's up. (Yurio still in second, bound for the silver, again.)
And Michele still in third.
And. But. His brain doesn't want to wrap even when it grasps the words being spoken.
He's in fourth today, but with his second place yesterday, his total score maps him the same place as Michele on the board. He hasn't been able to breath, but it sinks, and sink, and sink, suddenly, through his head, chest, stomach, to his feet.
Five-hundredths of a point difference. So slim ... and it changese v e r y t h i n g .
Because Michele will get the bronze today, to stand on those boxes, to skate the exhibition --
-- but Yuri, Yuri who took silver in Shanghai, outranking five-hundredths of a point
is going to go to Grand Prix Finale.
It falls through him, hitting every rubbery bone and screaming muscle, like he might hyperventilate if he breathed in. He's going. (He's going.) He's going. (On the narrowest slice of a blade.) He's going. (He made it.)
no subject
Maybe the shocked confusion on his face last night
is the one reserved for Victor,
like he's utterly foreign and alien is his.
The rest is still too much of a blur. An interviewer ask him how it feels to be in third place ... and he says something. He barely has the acuity to clarify that he's aware he is and isn't. JJ is going on next, JJ who won gold yesterday, and he knows what that could mean, but he can't touch it. It's hazy. When his answer isn't declarative enough for them, they ask for Victor would feel about it, and Yuri blinks.
Yuri gets so far as putting Victor's name in room with JJ, his thoughts about his score comparing to JJ, and --
Suddenly Yakov is snapping something so sharp, short, and blunt it can't be more than ten words, that makes even Yuri jumps from the crack of the first word. But it's the reporter still looks like he just got hit in the face with a ruler for implying something dirty. Swallowing and trying to play it off as a joke. That, of course, his coach must be proud of him wherever he is. There was never a question.
Yakov gives the man a look Yuri is sure he never wants to be on the receiving end of and says he's leaving to find Yurio.
Where Yuri ends up will be settled within ten minutes, but where Yurio will be already is all but set. He'll medal no matter what JJ manages to pull off. It's understanable, and he's Yurio's coach. He hadn't even gotten to congratulate him on getting first place, because he had to be there, at Yuri's side, for his skate. Yuri doesn't watch him go, because there are still more reporters, other reports asking him questions now, and JJ's performance is starting, too, behind them all.
His jumps are flawless right out of the gate, and his confidence is loud in every single movement he makes, and Yuri feels clarity coming to him with the weight of the building starting to drag down his stomach. Churning with the still unhappy juice, and siezing around it, like it's an invader. When JJ even makes his hydroblade look majestic, the tips of wings on his fingers that barely grace the ice itself, Yuri wants to slink off towards where the curtains to go backstage are.
He doesn't want to be out here to watch the rest of it.
He knows this part better than he knows this whole year.)
The audience is going crazy. The way it did for Yurio, and Michele. Which makes it even more confusing when, right off stage from them, he, and everyone near him, stop to listen to the people who are speculating up about his scores to go with these, and for a moment he can't even comprehend the words he hears. Until he does. Until he looks back to JJ. (JJ will take first, take gold, in the freeskate.) Posing on the ice. (Which would slide him into fourth.) The stylized double J's up. (Yurio still in second, bound for the silver, again.)
And Michele still in third.
And. But. His brain doesn't want to wrap even when it grasps the words being spoken.
He's in fourth today, but with his second place yesterday, his total score maps him the same place as Michele on the board.
He hasn't been able to breath, but it sinks, and sink, and sink, suddenly, through his head, chest, stomach, to his feet.
Five-hundredths of a point difference. So slim ... and it changes e v e r y t h i n g .
Because Michele will get the bronze today,
to stand on those boxes, to skate the exhibition --
outranking five-hundredths of a point
is going to go to Grand Prix Finale.
It falls through him, hitting every rubbery bone and screaming muscle, like he might hyperventilate if he breathed in.
He's going. (He's going.) He's going. (On the narrowest slice of a blade.) He's going. (He made it.)