His hand stays there, lightly curved over Yuri's head, thumb resting just above his ear. They've practiced this piece every way Victor knows how: in every small piece, skated over and over again to the point of exhaustion, slowly, quickly. It's been adjusted and readjusted innumberable times, argued over by himself and Minako, fought out on the barre and on the ice and in every painful step of every exhausting run. There's nothing left to do except do it. Keep perfecting it until Yuri peaks precisely when he's supposed to, at the Grand Prix Final in another month.

Until then, they have tonight, and tomorrow, and the day after that, and the routine of competition to keep them busy. "Did you check over your costume and all your gear already?"

He's got a small kit to fix anything that might need to be fixed –– fabric glue for rhinestones that have come loose, scissors for loose threads, needle and thread for any tears –– and it wouldn't be the first time. It's an old costume, after all, even if it's done nothing but sit folded in storage for the last decade.

It can help calm nerves to go over the fabric and check for anything that needs a last minute fix, or to check his boots and blades to make sure they're perfect. Yuri might not be able to run off to the Ice Palace here to skate figures in the middle of the night until his head clears, but there are plenty of other small but attention-consuming activities he can use to take his mind off things instead. Staying in and sleeping early is the best option, but they can always go out and walk the streets of Moscow if he needs to.

Even if Victor would rather not get up just yet, even to change out of his street clothes himself.