Yuri's manages to half-stumble, half-flounder it through two or three more questions before it happens. The rush of success still warm in his chest gathering a sibling in the fast fading endorphins that are leaving his muscles and bones throbbing everywhere. Making him wish this part was done already, and he could lean on a wall and just drink some water, while Victor was the only person this close, or talking this persistently at him. (Victor who would keep talking, but not be a problem if he just didn't answer for a few long breaths. Or more.)
Still, he tries. Something light here. Something definitive there. A warbled gratitude for those implied to be watching for him and cheering on, an anything but warbled gratitude for any reference that he qualifies back to the relation of Victor. The unwavering support and focus of what they were doing with these programs. The way he has to try not to let his gaze linger too long to the side, even when he can feel Victor just off from his shoulder. Not close enough to bump into without meaning to, but not far enough that it's forgettable.
But it happens all the same. You could almost time it to every single one of the after Kiss n' Cry on the spot interview.
A roar of applause comes from the audience, washing over where they are, overshadowing whatever had come after the light laugh of the man talking to him, when Yuri had looked out to see what had caused it. Except that it's already over, whatever the move or jump was, and Yurio is a far away shape on the other side of the ice. A small and soft, but gleaming, blur to his vision in the bright floodlights against the massive, all but endless, white ice, but even at that Yuri can see that he's chasing the thing he'd been missing earlier.
Trying to grasp it with his fingertips. The missing thing, and what was left of this performance. It's much cleaner, if not graceful, and demanding perfection, if not unconditional. It looks hard in a way Yuri knows it shouldn't, but he's familiar to the feeling of all too well. Yurio isn't giving up out there, and it shows. Strongly. The refusal to give in to whatever it was that had hamstrung him through his beginning.
But it's all Yuri has time to see or think before that voice is talking more loudly at him, again, trying to maintain a high lit and innocent, but demanding, question, and Yuri looks back with a blink, only catching the last few words while his vision shifts from focusing far to near. "Sorry. What?"
"I was asking--" The reporter starts again, and Yuri is dragged back into the undertow and the closer faces and brighter, more immediate lights and clamoring voices, that want answers he still feels he has to spend far too long putting together than makes any reasonable sense for how good his English actually is. Each question dominating into the next and the next. While Victor remains disquietingly quiet at the corner from him, more thn Victor ever has. Making this feel at least as much, if not more, like he's still on stage.
And he is. One for performance, and one for commentary.
Even as Yurio skates, and even as the music comes to an end, with loud cheering.
Yuri isn't certain when he ended up with a towel in his hand, but he rubs it against his neck and chin, more as an absent tic than in the need to brush anything off of his skin just now, as someone frames a question as to him having surprised them all, his coach included, at the end of China's Free Skate and should all his fans be expecting more of that tomorrow, the smile of reporter just as indicative of the question under it as the words, which leaves him with a mumbled Uh...., whether that's about Victor's flip and their plans or not having them for tomorrow, or Victor kissing him, before a rumble turns everyone's head. To a side and then up.
Yurio and his coach and trainer appearing on the high screens in preparation for the next score reveal.
When had two minutes felt so long and so short? (Aside from only, what felt like seconds ago, when he was out there himself.)
no subject
Yuri's manages to half-stumble, half-flounder it through two or three more questions before it happens. The rush of success still warm in his chest gathering a sibling in the fast fading endorphins that are leaving his muscles and bones throbbing everywhere. Making him wish this part was done already, and he could lean on a wall and just drink some water, while Victor was the only person this close, or talking this persistently at him. (Victor who would keep talking, but not be a problem if he just didn't answer for a few long breaths. Or more.)
Still, he tries. Something light here. Something definitive there. A warbled gratitude for those implied to be watching for him and cheering on, an anything but warbled gratitude for any reference that he qualifies back to the relation of Victor. The unwavering support and focus of what they were doing with these programs. The way he has to try not to let his gaze linger too long to the side, even when he can feel Victor just off from his shoulder. Not close enough to bump into without meaning to, but not far enough that it's forgettable.
But it happens all the same. You could almost time it to every single one of the after Kiss n' Cry on the spot interview.
A roar of applause comes from the audience, washing over where they are, overshadowing whatever had come after the light laugh of the man talking to him, when Yuri had looked out to see what had caused it. Except that it's already over, whatever the move or jump was, and Yurio is a far away shape on the other side of the ice. A small and soft, but gleaming, blur to his vision in the bright floodlights against the massive, all but endless, white ice, but even at that Yuri can see that he's chasing the thing he'd been missing earlier.
Trying to grasp it with his fingertips. The missing thing, and what was left of this performance. It's much cleaner, if not graceful, and demanding perfection, if not unconditional. It looks hard in a way Yuri knows it shouldn't, but he's familiar to the feeling of all too well. Yurio isn't giving up out there, and it shows. Strongly. The refusal to give in to whatever it was that had hamstrung him through his beginning.
But it's all Yuri has time to see or think before that voice is talking more loudly at him, again, trying to maintain a high lit and innocent, but demanding, question, and Yuri looks back with a blink, only catching the last few words while his vision shifts from focusing far to near. "Sorry. What?"
"I was asking--" The reporter starts again, and Yuri is dragged back into the undertow and the closer faces and brighter, more immediate lights and clamoring voices, that want answers he still feels he has to spend far too long putting together than makes any reasonable sense for how good his English actually is. Each question dominating into the next and the next. While Victor remains disquietingly quiet at the corner from him, more thn Victor ever has. Making this feel at least as much, if not more, like he's still on stage.
And he is. One for performance, and one for commentary.
Even as Yurio skates, and even as the music comes to an end, with loud cheering.
Yuri isn't certain when he ended up with a towel in his hand, but he rubs it against his neck and chin, more as an absent tic than in the need to brush anything off of his skin just now, as someone frames a question as to him having surprised them all, his coach included, at the end of China's Free Skate and should all his fans be expecting more of that tomorrow, the smile of reporter just as indicative of the question under it as the words, which leaves him with a mumbled Uh...., whether that's about Victor's flip and their plans or not having them for tomorrow, or Victor kissing him, before a rumble turns everyone's head. To a side and then up.
Yurio and his coach and trainer appearing on the high screens in preparation for the next score reveal.
When had two minutes felt so long and so short? (Aside from only, what felt like seconds ago, when he was out there himself.)