He's so high it feels like he's never going to come down again. The flashes are going off again, and reporters are calling out, but it's all for Yuri: he's in the center of each photo, he's the one they're directing questions to, and Victor has no idea how it happened that he loves this even more than when it was for him, but that's how it is.
He loves it. Yuri deserves it, and more. Yuri broke his own personal best, again, and he's looking better than Victor's ever seen him. He's in his best form yet, lean and strong and certain, and the blush on his cheeks right now as the reporters clamor for his attention is the best public relations move he could have asked for. Yuri's fans love his humility, his awkwardness, his shy demeanor. The brightening flush high on his cheekbones lends a degree of credibility to his determination that someone like Jacques-whoever will never have. Yuri may not have gotten here on spectacular talent, but his story of hard work and failure and dragging himself up from the bottom resonates with more people than he knows, and they love him for it.
As they should. As everyone should.
He's never been content to be out of the spotlight before, but he could stand here at Yuri's side, bursting with pride and watching with rapt attention for hours. Even when Yuri glances over at him ––
( don't worry, I'm going to show my love to the whole of Russia )
–– he doesn't jump in, only waits with an expression of near-smug vindication.
(He'd known it was possible all along. Yuri has always had this in him.)
He might be itching to haul Yuri off to some quiet corner, but he can wait, let Yuri have this moment in the sun, stand here at his side, just behind his shoulder, and try to stay afloat this feeling of perfect happiness. Did Yakov ever feel this way about him, standing here listening while Victor answered questions? If he did, he never let on.
Victor's not sure anyone in the whole universe has ever felt quite the way he feels about Yuri, or in this moment. It's washing him out like a crashing wave, buoying him up, going straight to his head like the purest of vodka. First.
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He loves it. Yuri deserves it, and more. Yuri broke his own personal best, again, and he's looking better than Victor's ever seen him. He's in his best form yet, lean and strong and certain, and the blush on his cheeks right now as the reporters clamor for his attention is the best public relations move he could have asked for. Yuri's fans love his humility, his awkwardness, his shy demeanor. The brightening flush high on his cheekbones lends a degree of credibility to his determination that someone like Jacques-whoever will never have. Yuri may not have gotten here on spectacular talent, but his story of hard work and failure and dragging himself up from the bottom resonates with more people than he knows, and they love him for it.
As they should. As everyone should.
He's never been content to be out of the spotlight before, but he could stand here at Yuri's side, bursting with pride and watching with rapt attention for hours. Even when Yuri glances over at him ––
( don't worry, I'm going to show my love to the whole of Russia )
–– he doesn't jump in, only waits with an expression of near-smug vindication.
(He'd known it was possible all along. Yuri has always had this in him.)
He might be itching to haul Yuri off to some quiet corner, but he can wait, let Yuri have this moment in the sun, stand here at his side, just behind his shoulder, and try to stay afloat this feeling of perfect happiness. Did Yakov ever feel this way about him, standing here listening while Victor answered questions? If he did, he never let on.
Victor's not sure anyone in the whole universe has ever felt quite the way he feels about Yuri, or in this moment. It's washing him out like a crashing wave, buoying him up, going straight to his head like the purest of vodka. First.
And just wait until tomorrow.