Originally written for a friend's prompt on my sneezehq tumblr. Set post-series. Content warning for vomit. Enjoy!
After he won the Grand Prix Final in his senior debut, Yuri had thought his anxiety would die down a bit. Before this season, he'd never been too much of an anxious skater; he'd generally had confidence in himself and his own skills. But between the pressure of having to prove himself and being Russia's top skater, Yuri's nerves had skyrocketed during the Grand Prix Final series. The night before the Final free skate, he'd hardly gotten any sleep, his stomach in knots and his head full of what-ifs.
Winning the final should have put all that to rest. Yuri had proved himself by winning and breaking Victor's world record. Everyone knew that he was the best.
Unfortunately, this isn't the case. Due to how close his and Yuuri's scores had been, there were doubts surrounding Yuri's victory. This meant Yuri had to push himself even further, to prove that his win wasn't a fluke.
Also, winning just the Grand Prix Final isn't enough. Yuri was expected to keep winning and setting new high scores. So, far from being banished, Yuri's anxiety intensified with every match.
The only bright side of his ongoing anxiousness is that he's used to it at this point. So when he's a week out from his next competition and his stomach starts to feel uneasy, he's disappointed but not surprised. He copes with it by eating light, bland foods and practicing until he can barely move. Yakov is worried that he's going to strain himself, but it's the only way Yuri knows how to quiet the doubts plaguing his mind.
The first day of competition goes well enough. Yuri performs agape well; not well enough to beat his record, but well enough to put him into first place. He feels strangely woozy after finishing his program, but he shrugs it off as just exhaustion. He didn't sleep very well last night. He's so tired that he ends up falling asleep on a bench near the kiss and cry while he waits for Yakov and Lilia to finish up whatever it is they're doing. He only wakes up when Lilia shakes him awake, telling him that it's time to go. Scowling, he drags himself to his feet and stumbles after her, zipping up his warmup jacket. Why is it so cold in here?
As soon as they get back to the hotel, Yuri forces himself to shower and then crashes as soon as he gets in bed. He'd had a hard time staying on his feet in the bathroom, constantly swaying and having to grab onto the counter or put a hand on the wall to steady himself. At least getting some sleep should help.
The sweet reprieve of sleep doesn't last him very long. Yuri's barely been asleep for an hour before he's awoken by the sharp ache in his stomach. He makes a mad dash for the bathroom, but ends up puking in the trash can by the dresser. He groans when he's finished, trembling from head to foot, and makes the journey over to the thermostat and cranks the heat up. With a lack of his usual grace, he slowly makes his way back to bed, grabbing the trash can and bringing it with him. He sets it beside the bed and tugs all the blankets until he's nestled in a warm cocoon. Between the heater and the blanket nest, the shivers taper off, and Yuri manages to drift off again.
His uneasy sleep remains blissfully uninterrupted until Lilia bangs on his hotel room door, jolting him awake. Apparently he slept through his alarm and now he's late. That's unusual. Or maybe he didn't even set an alarm? It's difficult to remember exactly what happened last night.
Sometime during the night, he apparently got too hot and threw off all of the blankets. That's not a good sign. Yuri pries himself out of bed and starts to get ready. There's a sour taste in the back of his mouth, but he makes it without vomiting, so he'll consider it a victory.
Lilia and Yakov are waiting impatiently for him when he comes out. They're in such a hurry that they don't even question him leaving without eating breakfast, which Yuri is grateful for.
The rest of the morning leading up until warmups passes in a blur. Yuri dozes on a bench in the locker room for the most part, using his jacket as a blanket. Each time he startles awake he feels more nauseous, so he's grateful for the escape. He grumbles blearily when he's informed that it's time to warm up.
Yuri has no memory of what happened during warmups. He doesn't have any new bruises when he gets off the ice, so his jumps must have gone okay, but he has no recollection of doing them. As soon as he's backstage again, he collapses onto a bench, grateful to be sitting down again. He doesn't even bother with his normal stretching routine; at this point he needs to conserve his energy. He blinks, and suddenly it's his turn and Yakov is nudging him out to the ice. His coach is asking him something, but Yuri's ears are full of cotton. He doesn't hear any of it, but nods in response anyway. It's probably not that important.
His hearing is miraculously restored when he skates out to the center of the rink, and Yuri swallows hard, steeling himself against the nausea and fatigue. He just has to make it through the routine and he's done.
When the music starts, Yuri throws himself into the routine and does what he does best: pushes himself to the limit to forget how bad he feels. It works, and for the duration of his free skate, Yuri's awareness is solely on Allegro Apassionado. He nails every jump, flowing gracefully through the step sequences. As though from far away, he can vaguely hear the cheers of the audience.
The spell is broken when he hits his final pose. Yuri barely manages to hold the stance for the required amount of time before he has to press a hand to his mouth to keep from spewing. He needs to get off the ice before he pukes, but there's no time.
To his horror, he doubles over with a heave before he can even think about moving. The force causes him to collapse to his knees, and he gags again, this time bringing up a wave of vomit. The sticky mess splatters all over the ice in front of him, getting on his hands and the knees of his costume. Yuri retches again, fruitlessly; his stomach is beyond empty. He's still dry heaving miserably when he hears someone coming across the ice. He looks up to see Yakov, who helps him to his feet and places his jacket over his shoulders, shielding him from view.
"You overdid it again," Yakov scolds, as they make their way to the exit. Yuri just nods vacantly, feeling too crappy to argue. "But I'll spare you the lecture until it'll actually sink in to that thick skull of yours. For now, you need to rest and get better."
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