"Yuratchka. You were the best of the bunch."
Those words were the first to appear in his mind. He remembers it ever-so clearly. The newly-born snowflakes falling from the sky, his small gloved hand enveloped by the larger one. His footsteps made light pitter-patter noises on the fresh and pristine snow, the snow temporarily holding the footsteps of a boy with potential, a boy that will win.
Yuri asked his grandpa to come to practice tomorrow. He'll skate even better than before. Young, impressionable eyes looked at the smile his grandpa gave him - a warm smile on the cold winter day.
Agape. Unconditional love. It was he that would be the basis of his agape, the foundation for Yuri's performance.
He understands now. And with that, he will win.
It was as though he had become one with agape, one with this so-called "unconditional love". The love of innocence, the love of self-sacrifice, the love of spontaneity. This is what Viktor meant - emotion intertwined with the performance. To the untrained eye, Yuri is perfect. To the trained eye - to Viktor's eye - he lacks the meaning, the purpose.
Well, here it was now, his purpose, his agape. He felt this love course through his veins, propelling him forward like a bird taking flight for the first time. He soars, lost within the moment.
And soon, Yuri felt himself falter, falling from the sky.
He loses sight of his purpose, sight of his agape. It escapes through his fingertips, leaves him in a hurried huff. Yuri feels himself breaking emotionally. All eyes see perfection, the epitome of grace. They see the magic of this prodigy, the elegance that is Yuri Pilsetsky. They don't see driving force of that elegance cracking.
The meaning of unconditional love is lost.
'Just end already.'
He finishes swiftly and is met with cheers. Once again, he performs beautifully. Yuri's eyes meets with Viktor's - he knows. Yuri looks away.
The heart that was so accustomed to the cold grew hot, burning, fiery and aching at the feeling...of the feeling of what, exactly? Disappointment? Regret? Anger? Some weird combination of everything?
"Yuratchka."
This was not him. It so wrong.
"You were the best of the bunch."
Yuri put on a smile for his adorning fans.
'Sorry, Grandpa.'
Yuri stood there and watched, felt, the true essence of Eros. He stood there, a witness to the love of pleasures, to the love of taunting sensuality between a beautiful woman and the charming playboy.
Yuuri understands his love. Yuuri understands Eros. Yuuri does not falter.
Yuri Pilsetsky scoffed. He left immediately.
i finally get an e-mail saying that the yoi category had been added and i'm over here like "well why hadn't i seen it for the past six days wtf?" but eh, whatever, i'm a happy girl.
now i get to post even more stories with my wonderful yurio~