CHAPTER FOURTY TWO
-No good World Record goes unpunished!-
"Next to take the ice, representing Czech Republic...Emil Nekola!"
Getting back into the prep-area for post-skate interviews was almost impossible; the crush of press behind the curtain was intense. Microphones were pushed forward, coming from the crowd as if held from disembodied limbs. Questions were called out over others; none could really be heard. Victor could do little more than stare forward with a dazzled - albeit confused - smile. He kept Yuri close by his side, not wanting to lose the man as he tried to step through the throng. Yakov followed through in their wake. They could see the backdrop with its flower-bush book-end props over the heads of a few reporters, but getting there took half of Emil's Short Program.
By the time they finally arrived though, Yakov had just-about had his fill of the insanity, and when the two athletes heard the elder coach take a breath, they both knew to cover their ears.
"NO ONE IS GOING TO GET AN ANSWER TO ANY OF THEIR QUESTIONS IF MOST OF YOU DON'T SHUT UP."
Like a gaggle of arguing kids that heard their mother swear for the first time, an eerie silence fell over them immediately. Yakov grumbled a breath and adjusted the frill of his hat; beside him, Yuri and Victor both looked on in stunned, though impressed, silence.
"Alright, now use your indoor voices."
Eyes scanned from one side to the other as each reporter and newscaster tried to figure out a way to start again. One of them finally dared to be the first to speak, and the craziness began all over again, much to Yakov's chagrin.
Yuri smiled quietly as he stood beside his partner, arm around the man's lower back as the machine-gun of questions came forth. The flutter in his gut made him a nervous mess though. I can't let myself panic this... I've know my whole life that Victor's a god on the ice...why should his score be any kind of surprise to me? Of course he'd set new records... Of course he'll win Gold... He's Victor Nikiforov! Who the Hell am I...? He wondered anxiously, brow slowly furrowing more and more as the interview went on. The chatter of the press-mob was deafening, and it seemed to go on for ages. Yuri wasn't even sure he heard Emil's score get called out before he saw the man and his coach come back through the rink-side curtain. He drew in a bit closer to his spouse, and lifted his free hand to set it on the one cupped around his waist, "...Victor, this is getting a bit much for me. I'm going to go sit down."
"...You are?" Victor answered, surprised. When Yuri nodded, the Russian knew not to question it further, and he looked back up to the press mob with a friendly smile and a wave, "I'm afraid my time is up! You should go talk to Emil! We just saw him go by!" He called out, though the crowd looked disappointed, "I'll answer more questions at the post-program meeting! See you lat-" He stammered, stopping mid-step as well as mid-sentence.
Yakov looked up, then through the crowd; he suspected he knew what the problem was. It wasn't even a surprise to see Mikhail there, waiting and watching quietly from the other side of the mass...except when he remembered that the prep-area was supposed to be off-limits to non-participants, "How the Hell did he get down here?"
Yuri looked over as well, and the stare of intense eyes made the media corps turn around in curiosity. They were immediately struck by the resemblance between the stranger and the star, looking from Victor to Mikhail and back again a few times before they finally attempted a connection. It was almost uncanny how they all pulled away and started rushing for the older man behind them. But, at least with the press focused on the next shiny thing, Yuri felt a bit more at ease. He felt the gentle nudge, and he let Victor guide him out of the interview space, the two of them vanishing into the crowd before the media even knew they were moving.
"Thanks for keeping this for me." Victor commented, kissing a shoulder of red and white fabric where his husband still wore his track-suit coat, "You look happy as a clam in it."
Yuri breathed a relieved sigh, and scrunched-up his shoulders a bit within the coat to feel it more deliberately around himself, "I feel a little better now... Sorry for asking if I could bail."
"It's alright. What's wrong?" The silver wondered, and opted to just walk his partner around the wide halls.
"...I mean..." Yuri started reluctantly, eyes following the grey concrete as they stepped onward, "I know you told me to try and enjoy it more than I'm bound to worry...but now it's like..." He slouched and sighed where he stood, eyes closed, "I haven't even skated yet and I already feel like I've failed to keep my promise."
Victor's brow furrowed slightly, and he looked around nervously. He drew a reluctant breath and let his arms sag at his sides, "...I shouldn't have put that kind of pressure on you."
"...Eh?"
"...When I said you owed me five World Championships." He clarified, a hand on the back of his neck, "I said it even though I agreed to come back...and being as competitive as I am..."
Yuri turned in place and looked up, a well-meant but dubious smile on his lips, "I don't want you to ever feel bad for being yourself. If you skated at less than your full potential, especially on my account...I'd probably never forgive either of us..."
"So then...what do I do with your worries...?" The silver wondered.
"...Just..." Yuri started, looking to the center of his partner's chest. He hesitated, but then slipped his arms out of the Team Russia jacket, and tossed it over those broad shoulders like a short cape. He pulled it together at the front of his husband's neck, and put a palm over each of the prominent red letters over the man's chest, "...Keep believing in me, even when I can't. It's...the only thing that's ever really helped."
Victor lowered those cool blue eyes, and stepped into his beloved's space. Hands slipped between each arm and side, and he pulled the man closer, brushing his cheek against the side of that worried brow before he set a kiss just above one ear, "You know I do more than just believe in you."
"Yeah..." Yuri nodded, and squished his face to his husband's neck, "You're my skating miracle."
"And I still believe you can win Gold." Victor added, and pulled back just enough to see those favored eyes - nervous but hopeful again, "Let's prove to everyone that only a Nikiforov can be on the top of the podium. Give me the best reason in the world to feel happy about getting Silver."
"So you can see the look on my face when I realize what you're thinking?"
"Of course." He laughed.
As the duo finally returned to the main area, they noticed that the gaggle of reporters still surrounded Mikhail. To Victor's great relief though, Yakov had been there the entire time as well. The coach tacitly held onto Victor's poodle-plush tissue-box by the tail as he stood idly by, practically chaperoning the skinny figure next to him.
The elder coach spotted Yuri first through the reporters and nodded at him lightly, then held his hands up, "...That'll be the end of the interview. Thank you everyone for your interest in Victor's uncle."
The reporters signed but agreed and started to depart, thanking the men for their time and headed off to find their next target. Once they were gone, Yuri approached them nervously with Victor in tow, but Yakov gave him a look that told him everything he needed to know.
He stayed here to make sure Mikhail didn't say or do anything that might compromise Victor's image... Yuri thought, and looked back to his partner, I wonder what they talked about?
"I didn't realize they'd jump all over me like that!" Mikhail commented hesitantly, "I would've waited until later to come down here otherwise."
"How did you even-" Victor grimaced, eyes narrowed in slight annoyance.
"It's okay." Yuri said, and inadvertently cut off that train of thought, "Even JJ's parents get interviewed separately sometimes. No one's ever seen relatives of Victor's at his competitions though. If you go to Russian Nationals, the mob may be even worse."
"I can imagine. These guys asked questions I hadn't even thought up answers for yet."
"Thought up?" Victor echoed again, even more incredulous than before, "What does that even mean?"
Mikhail gave off a steady air about himself, "I have my own image to think about, Victor. I don't want to give them anything that they can speculate on. I doubt you want people inventing stories about your past either."
"No, but-"
"I don't want to be presumed as a moocher," The elder shrugged, "I'm here to offer, after all, not ask."
Victor stared for a second wordlessly, eyes still narrowed, but he could only ask his question from earlier again, "How did you even get down here?"
"I got invited in." Mikhail answered, "One of the other coaches was coming out and saw me in the hall...thought I looked a bit too much like you to be a coincidence. Josef, I think?"
"Oh, yeah. That's Chris' coach," Yuri confirmed.
"That's right," The elder nodded, "He called me over like he thought I was lost or something. I guess he thought I was supposed to be down here, even though I had no badge. I tried to explain it, but he just opened the door and let me through, so I didn't want to be rude. He pointed me over to where your interview was starting, so I just meandered over to watch. I really didn't think I'd end up being a spectacle."
"He was good, Vitya." Yakov reassured, "He didn't say anything inappropriate."
Victor was still skeptical, and kept up his narrow-eyed gaze for a moment longer, but then looked instead to his husband, "You need to get ready to skate, don't you?"
"...I have about 45 minutes?" Yuri answered, somewhat confused, "I mean, I could go start warming up...again..."
"I think it's a good idea. Make sure you're loose before you go out there." The silver agreed, and leaned in to whisper something to his partner's ear before shooing him off to find his mat and an empty hall. Yuri's brows were raised, but he scampered-off anyway without another word. Victor watched him go, and only once his young husband was out of ear-shot did he turn back towards his uncle. He slid his arms into his track-suit coat, and then stuffed his hands into his pockets stiffly, "Welcome to the staging area." He said; his voice had something of an edge to it as he looked evenly at his elder, "Not many people get to see this if they aren't involved in the event somehow."
"I can go back, you know." Mikhail pointed out, and gestured over towards the door he'd been let in through, "I guess I really underestimated how popular you are... Everyone wants a piece of me now, too. It's weird."
Victor just looked at him, unsure how to reply. He noticed how other skaters were looking at them then - some whispering to each other about the physical similarity between him and his uncle, and some even commenting about how 'at least he'll still be hot when he's older!' - but neither made him feel better about the situation. Do it for Yuri...do it for Yuri...
Mikhail ignored them though, and gave his nephew a worried look, "...I know having me around makes you nervous. I appreciate that you're giving me a chance though."
"I'm trying not to disappoint Yuri." Victor answered curtly.
"...I can respect that."
"But since he's not here, and this isn't being documented in texts...I can say my piece and be done with it."
Both Yakov and Mikhail got a bit on edge with those words, but said nothing to interrupt him.
[If you ever show up with my father in tow again, we're done.] He said, suddenly switching to Russian so no one else could understand him, [It already makes me anxious to know he's one phone-call away, and his contact information is sitting on your phone right now. Don't make me regret allowing you back into my life; you already ruined it once before. I had a lot of other plans that got messed up by everything that's happened, and it's put an unreasonable burden on my relationship with Yuri. I eloped with him because I was scared to death he'd leave me over this constant threat of violence and criticism. I won't allow it to get worse.]
Mikhail just looked on, giving his nephew the exact same expression Victor was giving him, [...And...what else?]
[I don't want you talking to Yuri behind my back anymore.] The young silver said sternly, [I already feel bad enough that I used his thumb to unlock his phone while he was asleep, so I could scold you for what you were doing. He's taking the outcome of this whole situation between you and I extremely personally. If it doesn't work out the way he hopes, he'll blame himself. I need you to leave him alone so I can take this rodeo off his hands. If you want to talk to him, you'll have to go through me.]
[I can't exactly do that right now.] Mikhail pointed out, and pulled out his phone to waggle it in his hand, [No numbers.]
[I'll get your number from Yuri's phone, and I'll message you on mine in my own time.]
[Don't wait too long.]
[And don't put Yuri on the spot just to ask what's taking me, either.] Victor nodded his head towards his coach, [I know it was Yakov that gave him your number in the first place, and put in his head the idea that I needed outside family in my life. Make no mistake...I had everything I wanted before. This is all extra...if it causes me grief, I'll put a stop to it. I won't let you do to me again what you did to me before. I won't.]
[I regret what happened back then, Victor. I really d-]
[I don't want to hear it.] Victor cut him off, [It's done and over. I'm worried about the future now, not the past.]
Mikhail furrowed his brow, [...You make it sound like you think I don't care if you get hurt again.] Grey-green eyes deadpanned slightly, [I haven't even talked to Kon since he showed me where your home rink was.]
[You're the one who asked if I want Konstantin to approve of my profession and was offering ideas and insight into how to make it happen. But the bottom line is...I don't want him anywhere near me. I don't want to know if or when you talk to him. It'll take me a long time to trust you just on your own. So keep that in mind...we're walking on thin ice for a little while, you and I.] Victor explained, and took a half-step back, [For Yuri's sake, and only because of Yuri, I'm going to try.]
Yakov had avoided saying anything, even after the skater had basically thrown him under the bus, but he was relieved to see Victor making an attempt to work with it. With all said and done, he turned his head to the Rozovsky elder, "Let's get you back to the arena so you can find your seat again." He turned back to his own student, "Vitya, you'd better go prep your student while you have time."
"Da." He answered, and smiled at the thought of doing just that.
Mikhail noticed how his nephew's expression changed, and it gave him a little relief, [Someday you're going to be able to smile like that because of me, Victor, not in spite of me.]
The younger Russian turned blue eyes back to him, confused at first, but then smiled a little differently, [Only Yuri gets that smile. You'll have your own in time, if things work out.]
"I'm looking forward to it."