For once, Victor´s attention was not fully focused on Yuuri. He was feeling something he was not used to feel: guilt. He had promised this kid he would create a choreography for the Grand Prix final, but there he was, as the trainer of Yuuri, watching the Russian´s choreography, based on disappointment.
Next to him, Yuuri squeezed his hand and Victor forced a smile. The Japanese was next, and he couldn´t allow any distractions. But Yuri finished his dance and Victor felt as if his whole body was shouting "YOU PROMISED ME!". It had been good. Really good. Almost perfect.
But now was Yuuri´s moment and as the Russian boy watched the Japanese´s dance, Victor could see anger growing in his expression. No. It was not anger. It was... Jealousy. Because you could see Victor´s influence in every move. And it did not matter how many times Yuri practiced Agape; it was something he would never have. And Victor knew he owed something to this boy.
As usual, Yuuri finished his exercise pointing at Victor, and as usual, Victor felt the urgent need to hug him.
Time for the results. Third place, Pichit Chulanont. Second place, Yuuri Katsuki. First place, Yuri Plisetsky. Yakov had told the champion to keep a straight face and so he was doing. As he saw Yuri next to him, under him in the podium, he was beginning to understand why it had been Yuuri and not him. The style, the way he moved, and even his way of talking... fit with Victor. If the Russian legend had trained him, it would have probably ended in disaster.
Victor decided to use his influence once more and walked straight to where Mila was squeezing Yuri to death and just said: "I´m sorry". Yuri stared at him for a while, and his face went back to anger. This time, it was straight, pure anger. "Fuck off, I don´t need you" and walked away. Victor smiled fullheartedly for the first time since the beginning of the competition. They were at peace now.