Yuri’s eyes widen as he watches Victor move to him, near to him, though he doesn’t replace his hands. Or their blessed warmth.
He wonders when he will. He wonders if he will.
« I want to spend more time with you …. »
His heart races, thunders foolishly in his chest. He’s never quite gotten used to the disquiet Victor inspires. While at first, Yuri had been overwhelmed with anxieties of nervousness simply being in his mentor’s illustrious presence, then with the frustration of the early necessities of training, that disquiet of the heart had never left him in Victor’s presence. But it had evolved, cured into something lovely as the pair had grown closer, into a thrill trust and devotion between them that sparks even now—
For the first time in years, Yuri cannot wait to open his eyes and wake up to the darkened dawn wherein he and Victor begin their quotidian rituals of coaching and practice and choreography and sharing a bento until it’s time to do everything again and then all at once. It’s the happiest moments he can think of. The happiest time of his life.
« … It’ll all be over soon
The happiest time of his life appears to have an expiration date.
Yuri smiles, because it’s all he can do. Because an infinite whorl of possibilities flood his thoughts like a deluge, twist and whorl with the devastation of a dark vortex as he tries to sort out exactly what he might mean by that. The Grand Prix gold had always been the goal. But he’d never quite thought of it as the end until now.
It made sense. Stood to reason. Victor would be wanting to get back on the ice, himself. Of course he would. As fun as all of this is, it’s just a simulacrum of reality for him. It’s playing ‘house’ when real responsibilities await. And reality’s got to set in sometime.
“Yes, of course,” Yuri agrees. Because he ought to.
It’s Yuri who reaches out to find the smoothness of that hand, and squeezes it firmly. The smile he wears isn’t the warmest, but he tries for one, scrunching his nose and letting the ancillary squint of his eyes obscure what his smile cannot. “I owe you everything. And I’ll always do my best to make you proud. I hope … I hope you know that.”
Suddenly, he’s lost his appetite, and he fishes in his wallet for some cash to throw down. “I should get going,” he mumbles, using the opportunity to avoid Victor’s eyes. “If we’re up early tomorrow, then I think I should start winding down for bed. Um. T-thanks for dinner.” And with an awkward nod of his head, he takes a halting step away from the table to leave.
The pit in his stomach yawns wider, a voice somewhere inside echoing ‘I told you so’ and a resounding response of ‘this was never going to work’. But it isn’t the truth, is it? Somewhere in that lithe body pulling away from him he knows there’s something waiting there. A loneliness to equal his own. Or maybe...there isn’t. Maybe Yuri’s life is already full enough without him cramming himself in somewhere. The sheer number of people who support what Yuri wants, no matter if those interests shift mid-stride.
A ballet instructor to sacrifice her evenings for him.
A mother and father who know nothing of his chosen career and still cheer him on.
Maybe now isn’t the time to be forcing himself into cracks far too small to house what little of him is left. But he must. No other human being on this planet has ever elicited such an incredible yearning to be part of whatever it is the skater wants. Even if it isn’t forever...just let him be a part of it for a little while longer.
Staring down at the myriad of food they’d yet to truly dig into, Victor weighs the merits of letting Yuri walk away alone against the innate desire to follow after him as a lost dog shown kindness for the first time. He can’t sit here alone and pathetic and Yuri can’t be left to stew over whatever it is that upset him so he rifles through the bills in his wallet to match the leftover cost and he’s up and jogging for his companion.
They walk silent down the street and Victor feels the weight of guilt seeping in to every muscle and with it comes doubt. A disastrous feeling he has to root out but- he has absolutely no idea where to begin. The first step, he supposes, is to break the ice that’s forming between them and get conversation flowing again.
“Are you sure you want to turn in this early? We could go see a movie or go for a walk in the park.” Of course he’ll need to find a park to walk through, but..
ellievsbear
pixelskylines
titsay
janainaart
2087
jbbartram-illu
gummygunk
yousharknotpass
turnnoffyourmind
