The cheer goes on, filling his head even as his head feels like it might burst from the thunder of his own blood, and the thinness of his own breath. Like his breath wasn't going far enough, getting into enough of that blood. Kept running into the bottom of his lungs like a wall, while he blinks against the brightness and raises a hand to all the noise.
The only tumbling thought that they must have heard his message. To go from the whole stadium cheering for Victor, and not cheering for him.
Bouquets start falling all around him, fluttering paper and petals, and then stuffed foods. Several sushi and shrimp and he thinks he saw a donut somewhere in the air while he was waving and it was falling to the ice, but he can't place it when he's looking for something that made it nearby, or between him and the gate. He settles for one of the pieces of sushi that looks like tuna based on the color, and the shrimp.
Skating back with them both held under an arm and against his body, back to where Victor was, back to where a look at Victor will tell him how it went, if it went as well as he hoped, as well as it felt -- but it isn't Victor who is waiting in the doorway. It's Yurio, and his eyes widened with surprise as much as suddenly reignited remembrance.
Jeweled silver and white feather, glimmering, gilt and glitter under the lights. The way this costume always looked on camera; had for that one day back in the spring in Japan. Yurio, standing there cased by it, and the new fall of the hairstyle from last time. In Canada, weeks ago. All of it, there, blinding his eyes briefly and stopping his tongue, but that's never been a problem for Yurio.
Yurio's the picture of cool, almost cold, grimness, and with it comes Yurio's familiar child's icy disdain. The same voice as that promise from the elevator last night, except this time Yurio denigns to look at him for it.
Surprise seems to be the only thing that sticks, high in the warmth of Yuri's own cheeks and upper body and legs, everywhere, with the dawning remembrance of Yurio being next. A thing he's known since for months since Qualifiers were set, and hours since they arrived to find the performance schedules up, and only minutes ago when he'd stepped off the ice to step back on.
But it like everything else in the world had vanished on the ice.
Coming back at the glittering distance of that insult that comes from too far away to hit, as he gets out of Yurio's way through the gate, even if it puts him on his blades without his skate guards. His head and his mouth seeming to find words only as the rainbow brilliance of Yurio's back is leaving his periphery, words only for Victor even if more people hear it. "T-this is Yurio's real agape!"
The words leaving his mouth with the same kind of skipping, inflating, expanding buoyancy as he'd realized the crowd was going crazy, as he realized the Yurio was next, and with those words his mouth breaks finally, for the first time since stopping in the middle of the rink, into a smile. Warm and pleased, excitement uncurling behind it, like a cat deciding to stretch, even if Yurio means for him to feel elsewise.
He doesn't care about that at all. Elation flooding his skipping stone mind. To see it for themselves, not on videos, how far it's come. How far Yurio has.
no subject
The cheer goes on, filling his head even as his head feels like it might burst from the thunder of his own blood, and the thinness of his own breath. Like his breath wasn't going far enough, getting into enough of that blood. Kept running into the bottom of his lungs like a wall, while he blinks against the brightness and raises a hand to all the noise.
The only tumbling thought that they must have heard his message.
To go from the whole stadium cheering for Victor, and not cheering for him.
Bouquets start falling all around him, fluttering paper and petals, and then stuffed foods. Several sushi and shrimp and he thinks he saw a donut somewhere in the air while he was waving and it was falling to the ice, but he can't place it when he's looking for something that made it nearby, or between him and the gate. He settles for one of the pieces of sushi that looks like tuna based on the color, and the shrimp.
Skating back with them both held under an arm and against his body, back to where Victor was, back to where a look at Victor will tell him how it went, if it went as well as he hoped, as well as it felt -- but it isn't Victor who is waiting in the doorway. It's Yurio, and his eyes widened with surprise as much as suddenly reignited remembrance.
Jeweled silver and white feather, glimmering, gilt and glitter under the lights. The way this costume always looked on camera; had for that one day back in the spring in Japan. Yurio, standing there cased by it, and the new fall of the hairstyle from last time. In Canada, weeks ago. All of it, there, blinding his eyes briefly and stopping his tongue, but that's never been a problem for Yurio.
Yurio's the picture of cool, almost cold, grimness, and with it comes Yurio's familiar child's icy disdain.
The same voice as that promise from the elevator last night, except this time Yurio denigns to look at him for it.
Surprise seems to be the only thing that sticks, high in the warmth of Yuri's own cheeks and upper body and legs, everywhere, with the dawning remembrance of Yurio being next. A thing he's known since for months since Qualifiers were set, and hours since they arrived to find the performance schedules up, and only minutes ago when he'd stepped off the ice to step back on.
But it like everything else in the world had vanished on the ice.
Coming back at the glittering distance of that insult that comes from too far away to hit, as he gets out of Yurio's way through the gate, even if it puts him on his blades without his skate guards. His head and his mouth seeming to find words only as the rainbow brilliance of Yurio's back is leaving his periphery, words only for Victor even if more people hear it. "T-this is Yurio's real agape!"
The words leaving his mouth with the same kind of skipping, inflating, expanding buoyancy as he'd realized the crowd was going crazy, as he realized the Yurio was next, and with those words his mouth breaks finally, for the first time since stopping in the middle of the rink, into a smile. Warm and pleased, excitement uncurling behind it, like a cat deciding to stretch, even if Yurio means for him to feel elsewise.
He doesn't care about that at all. Elation flooding his skipping stone mind.
To see it for themselves, not on videos, how far it's come. How far Yurio has.