It was Victor's tone, more than anything JJ didn't ever say to him again or said to Victor, that stuck with him. Part of the cycle of his ramping heartbeat as time continued to grow shorter and shorter. The second skater of the first group already being replaced by the third, and Yuri can't entirely stand still, and he can't entirely not watch the tv. The scores. The jumps. The footwork.
(The same way he finds himself unable to not wonder everytime he finds his eyes drawn back to Victor. Victor, here. Victor, in Russia. Whether Victor thinks he's ready. Whether Victor is distracted by everything here. If he's changed his mind now that he has come home again. Whether Yuri, actually, is ready. Victor's all too elusive calm, and the cold, door shutting, rejection in those words he'd said earlier.
The tone Yuri recognizes, if not why, and now is not the time to ask. Now is not the time when he thinks he would make much sense.)
There's no time to ask, and no way to keep it center and front in his thoughts. The third performer is on and it means their whole group needs to be out to prepare for their warm up. The whole of the 2nd group moving from behind the curtain to the right outside the rink for the end of Crispino's performance and its ending embrace with his sister who skated earlier. Crispino heads off the to Kiss-and-Cry with his coach and sister, and Yuri leans back against the rink, and Yuri has to wonder, before it too is forgotten the next second, what it must have been to do that together, always supported.
But it fades as fast as it forms. The same way the people near him and not near him do. The same with the knowledge so far the ranked scores are still fifteen below his best in China.
Trying to keep his breaths even when he closes his eyes for a second, against the cheering crowd starting to blur around him. More than when he first stepped out. Score, then their warm-up, then he's on. Score, then their warm up, then he's on. It's about to start. It already had so much longer ago than this minute.
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It was Victor's tone, more than anything JJ didn't ever say to him again or said to Victor, that stuck with him. Part of the cycle of his ramping heartbeat as time continued to grow shorter and shorter. The second skater of the first group already being replaced by the third, and Yuri can't entirely stand still, and he can't entirely not watch the tv. The scores. The jumps. The footwork.
(The same way he finds himself unable to not wonder everytime he finds his eyes drawn back to Victor. Victor, here. Victor, in Russia. Whether Victor thinks he's ready. Whether Victor is distracted by everything here. If he's changed his mind now that he has come home again. Whether Yuri, actually, is ready. Victor's all too elusive calm, and the cold, door shutting, rejection in those words he'd said earlier.
The tone Yuri recognizes, if not why, and now is not the time to ask.
Now is not the time when he thinks he would make much sense.)
There's no time to ask, and no way to keep it center and front in his thoughts. The third performer is on and it means their whole group needs to be out to prepare for their warm up. The whole of the 2nd group moving from behind the curtain to the right outside the rink for the end of Crispino's performance and its ending embrace with his sister who skated earlier. Crispino heads off the to Kiss-and-Cry with his coach and sister, and Yuri leans back against the rink, and Yuri has to wonder, before it too is forgotten the next second, what it must have been to do that together, always supported.
But it fades as fast as it forms. The same way the people near him and not near him do.
The same with the knowledge so far the ranked scores are still fifteen below his best in China.
Trying to keep his breaths even when he closes his eyes for a second, against the cheering crowd starting to blur around him. More than when he first stepped out. Score, then their warm-up, then he's on. Score, then their warm up, then he's on. It's about to start. It already had so much longer ago than this minute.