The weight of Viktor's arms around his neck all but surprises a grunt out of Yakov, but the whispered thanks -- and the unspoken apology beneath it -- makes him reach up and give the young man a rough pat on the back, just long enough to press him close for a moment. And there's an apology in that, too. For not truly seeing how unhappy Viktor had been. For whatever aspect of his own personality, or their working or personal relationship, or both, had made Viktor so reluctant to come to him with his frustrations all those months ago. A coach must trust his skater, but a skater must trust his coach as well. To know that their mutual trust had been badly strained, but not broken entirely, is a small source of comfort in all this.
Yet perhaps there's also something of a farewell, a letting-go, in that returned embrace. Because he's by no means ignorant of what all of this might mean, of why Viktor chose to reach out to him in desperation instead of simply trusting that his skater could handle the second day of the Rostelecom Cup on his own. (Yuuri Katsuki would be a quivering mess if he were to learn exactly how closely Yakov Feltsman has been observing him, ever since not one but two of his skaters had gone haring off to Japan without warning in the space of a few weeks...and quite a number of interesting observations have been made between the start of the China Cup and this moment in Moscow.) Nothing in this world is certain, but it may be time for an old man to accept that his Vitya will never return to him, not in the same way as before, and to make peace with it as best he can.
But all of that is at the back of his mind, where it should be. There are other priorities now, and the moment that Yakov is certain that Viktor and Katsuki are ready to head out, he immediately turns around and barks at the young man he'd spotted texting a few moments before. 'You there, with the phone in your hand!' There's a certain grim satisfaction to be had in the way that the startled culprit bolts upright and nearly drops the offending electronic device, and he presses his advantage. 'Are you going to tell me who you were contacting just now? Or will I need to start making some calls of my own?'
He's got the attention of everyone in the room, which is exactly what he wants. To stay on the attack, deflecting all threats, until the coast is clear. Do what you have to do, Vitya.
Up on the eighth floor of the Star Hotel, the disciplined evening routine of stretches, costume and skate checks, and other preparations for the morning still has to be done regardless of whatever is happening elsewhere. And Yuri lets himself fall into it like he's going under hypnosis, to the point where he is as focused on the feel of Lilia's hands on his back or arms as he is on the strain and pull of his muscles under her touch. She pays extra attention to his lower back and spine, in case the soreness has affected his gait and put additional tension on his legs and feet. When they are finished, and Yuri has taken care of everything he will need for the free skate, Lilia has him sit on his bed and gives him a freshly-prepared plastic bag of ice for his hip.
'Keep that on there for five more minutes, and then repeat the last set of stretches you were doing.' The rest of her guidance, drinking enough water and limiting his phone time and not listening to loud music, comes as a matter of course...but instead of asking him if he needs anything else, her final question is slightly different, and phrased a little more carefully. 'Would you rather do the final stretches on your own? Or would you prefer it if I stayed here to assist?'
Yuri blinks, surprised at first -- but as her words sink in, he sits up a little straighter on the bed. 'No, thank you, Lilia,' he replies quietly, if a bit stiffly. 'I can manage it.' He draws another breath, holding her gaze as if it's the only thing keeping his courage in place, and then adds, 'And I...I'm sorry. For earlier. For being nekulturny, in speaking to you like that. I won't let it happen again.'
no subject
Yet perhaps there's also something of a farewell, a letting-go, in that returned embrace. Because he's by no means ignorant of what all of this might mean, of why Viktor chose to reach out to him in desperation instead of simply trusting that his skater could handle the second day of the Rostelecom Cup on his own. (Yuuri Katsuki would be a quivering mess if he were to learn exactly how closely Yakov Feltsman has been observing him, ever since not one but two of his skaters had gone haring off to Japan without warning in the space of a few weeks...and quite a number of interesting observations have been made between the start of the China Cup and this moment in Moscow.) Nothing in this world is certain, but it may be time for an old man to accept that his Vitya will never return to him, not in the same way as before, and to make peace with it as best he can.
But all of that is at the back of his mind, where it should be. There are other priorities now, and the moment that Yakov is certain that Viktor and Katsuki are ready to head out, he immediately turns around and barks at the young man he'd spotted texting a few moments before. 'You there, with the phone in your hand!' There's a certain grim satisfaction to be had in the way that the startled culprit bolts upright and nearly drops the offending electronic device, and he presses his advantage. 'Are you going to tell me who you were contacting just now? Or will I need to start making some calls of my own?'
He's got the attention of everyone in the room, which is exactly what he wants. To stay on the attack, deflecting all threats, until the coast is clear. Do what you have to do, Vitya.
Up on the eighth floor of the Star Hotel, the disciplined evening routine of stretches, costume and skate checks, and other preparations for the morning still has to be done regardless of whatever is happening elsewhere. And Yuri lets himself fall into it like he's going under hypnosis, to the point where he is as focused on the feel of Lilia's hands on his back or arms as he is on the strain and pull of his muscles under her touch. She pays extra attention to his lower back and spine, in case the soreness has affected his gait and put additional tension on his legs and feet. When they are finished, and Yuri has taken care of everything he will need for the free skate, Lilia has him sit on his bed and gives him a freshly-prepared plastic bag of ice for his hip.
'Keep that on there for five more minutes, and then repeat the last set of stretches you were doing.' The rest of her guidance, drinking enough water and limiting his phone time and not listening to loud music, comes as a matter of course...but instead of asking him if he needs anything else, her final question is slightly different, and phrased a little more carefully. 'Would you rather do the final stretches on your own? Or would you prefer it if I stayed here to assist?'
Yuri blinks, surprised at first -- but as her words sink in, he sits up a little straighter on the bed. 'No, thank you, Lilia,' he replies quietly, if a bit stiffly. 'I can manage it.' He draws another breath, holding her gaze as if it's the only thing keeping his courage in place, and then adds, 'And I...I'm sorry. For earlier. For being nekulturny, in speaking to you like that. I won't let it happen again.'