CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED FIFTY NINE
Yurio lifted his eyes just long enough to spot Yakov watching him from behind the glass above the rink. Beyond the older man, and former Prima standing next to him, the teen could even see how much more crowded the mezzanine had become; it looked like a bunch of people from the press had suddenly turned up, though it wasn't entirely clear why. They were just loitering, occasionally looking out onto the ice, but otherwise just standing around like they were waiting for something.
The deep, booming echo of the start of his song reverberated through the arena, and the teen immediately withdrew his curiosity for the gathering to focus on his performance.
['Inner Universe' - Origa]
Everyone at rink-side had their eyes on the blonde, watching him going through the motions for a few moments before turning back to one another. Otabek stood up though and went through them to watch from the open doorway through the wall. Yuri quietly watched him go, finding Viktor stepping into his line of sight though as he turned his head that way.
The Russian crouched down in front of him, hands coming to touch deftly to the end of his knees, rocking forward to perch on the toe of the blade-guards, "Are you ready?" The man wondered.
Yuri just blinked at him, "Sure."
"Maybe I'm more nervous than you are then."
"Ah, don't be that way." The younger figure sat up a bit straighter, sliding his fingers over the back of the Russian's hands and curled them around to hold lightly, "It'll just make me more nervous than I already am."
"No jumps."
"I know!" The skater lamented, "I'm starting to think you doubt me!"
Viktor just looked at him with that one visible eye, "I don't doubt you...but you can't stop me from worrying. What kind of husband would I be if I didn't?"
Yuri couldn't contest that, and sat back roughly against the red seat, pulling his hands back and crossing his arms over his chest as he went. The pout on his face was obvious even if he didn't know he'd put it on.
"Try not to think so much about it." The Russian advised, sliding forward to wedge himself between his partner's knees and wrap his arms around the man's back, pressing his forehead to the crinkly material of the Team Japan jacket, feeling the stark coldness of the zipper against his skin, "I just want you to play it safe. Go out there and skate like we're still just choreographing the program."
"I know..." The younger figure sighed, leaning his head back against the rear of the seat, uncrossing his arms to lay them across his partner's shoulders, "Everyone's going to be extra critical of anything and everything I do this weekend. It's hard not to think I'm going to mess up my chances just because I'm nervous about that."
"I guess that's a good problem to have though." The silver skater offered, lifting his head a bit so he could see his spouse's face, "Being well-enough known that you have the attention of people all over the world. Everyone will be rooting for you to pull through. You can show them all how strong you are by winning Gold in spite of what happened."
Yuri glanced down at the man, sliding his left arm down enough to touch his fingers to the Russian's cheek, brushing a few loose strands of silver-grey hair over an ear, "I appreciate the sentiment...but we all know who's really going to win Gold this weekend. If I make it to the podium at all, it'll be a miracle."
"You need to believe in yourself more. Just because you've suffered a small setback doesn't mean you can't still surprise us. You only lose one point for falling on a jump, so unless you under-rotate, you can realistically still do extremely well. Remember when you tried the quad Axel at the end of Cup of China? If you only did the regular triple, it would've only been worth 8.5 points, 11 tops if you got the 3+ GOE...but you tried for the quad, got the full four and a half rotations, and even though you fell...you managed to get 14 points for your trouble. So keep trying your best. I'll stick by you. I believe you can win."
The younger figure just stewed in his anxiety for a moment, losing sight of his partner as his focus waned. The memory of all his failures through the Grand Prix Series flashed through his mind. His collapse of confidence after his Short Program in Canada, his melt-down at the late-night practice that came later, being found by his sister on the steps of the Saddledome...and being told never to throw his skates aside again unless he meant to end the relationship they symbolized. Even worse, in China, when he suffered a panic attack so sudden and unexpected that he'd collided with the rink wall, scored less than 75, and put his husband into such a depression that he'd drunkenly half-threatened to throw himself off the side of a building over it.
The cut on his forehead started to throb horribly just then, and the pain migrated down onto his right eye, but just as he was about to lift his hand to cover and soothe it, he felt a presence directly in front of him. The light behind his closed eyes dimmed, and he felt a warmth on his lips. Opening the left eye only a crack, he saw the blurry image of his husband directly in front of him, albeit too close to see much of anything except his own closed right eye.
The Russian pulled out of the kiss then and nuzzled nose-tips briefly, "Yurio's just about done. Let's stand up."
Yuri nodded, and felt those arms come away from him again, sliding down the side of his legs until they reached for his hands instead and helped him up to his feet. They shuffled across the small gap between the first-row seats and the rink-wall, moving towards the open gate, but then stopped there, listening to the last few seconds of the song as it boomed overhead. The young skater watched the ice carefully, letting himself be drawn into a hug while they waited for the end, resting his head on the front of his husband's shoulder as his arms returned the gesture.
When Yurio finally took his last pose, and the music ended, the Asian drew in a deep, nervous breath. It was almost hard to hear, over the sound of his own thundering heart, as the young Russian came off the ice and Otabek commented on the teen's handful of falls and missteps.
The blonde just grunted and hastily pulled on his team jacket again, trying so hard to get his first blade-guard on in a rush that it took longer than it would've if he'd just done it normally. When he looked up to see Yuri pulling out of the hug, anxiously waiting for the announcer to call his name, he grit his teeth and looked away again. The second blade-guard was harder to place than the first, and Yurio barked out to be left alone when Otabek dared to offer help.
The Kazakh just gave a hurt look, but then crossed his arms, "Chill out, before you hurt yourself. It was just practice. People nail stuff in competition all the time even if they flub it during warm-ups."
Yuri suddenly met the teen's gaze as he was pulling his coat off, pausing in the middle of the act while the sleeves were still half-hanging to his arms. For a moment, both skaters were paralyzed and speechless, only permitted to unfreeze again when Viktor moved to take the jacket. Yuri glanced away after that, pulling the rest off his elbows and hands, then holding to the outside lip of the rink-wall to pull the rubber bars from his golden blades. He watched the angry Russian Punk stepping away, finally having attached the guards to his own skates before loudly stomping off. Yurio passed where Mikhail and Nikkita had been waiting for him, moving towards the staircase to practically run up the length of them. Yuri drew in another nervous breath, feeling his partner's hands rubbing his shoulders a few times before sliding them down to his back to usher him closer to the door.
The Rozovsky patriarch looked from the younger Yuri to the older, and huffed a loud sigh to himself, "I don't know that this is a fixable situation with the time we have." He commented quietly, "Yura wants to get the Hell outta Dodge, and those two plan on seeing Leroy when they're finished. We won't have a chance to get them together before everyone's gone."
Nikki rubbed her arms for the warmth, but nodded, "Maybe we should let Yura calm down for a bit anyway. Everyone's so highly strung because of everything else going on already..."
"Yeah..."
"Will skater Yuri Nikiforov please enter the rink." The announcer finally called.
The nervous athlete drew in a quick breath, rubbing his hands together, "This is it..."
"Take it easy, Yuri." Mikhail called, getting the skater's attention briefly, "You aren't being scored so don't take it too seriously."
He nodded anxiously before finally stepping around the edge of the gateway, setting one blade onto the ice and then pausing. He twisted back around and looked up the two inches to his husband's one visible eye. Holding there for a second, he reached his hand forward to slide it under the man's arm, settling it on Viktor's hip before leaning in to get one last quick kiss before finally pushing out to make his few laps around the rink. It took until he was on the far end of the arena before he looked up high enough to see something he hadn't expected.
The entire length of the mezzanine above the medic's area was lined with video cameras and people holding up smartphones. Coaches, choreographers, even other skaters who had practiced earlier in the morning...and on the far end, with a hand against the glass, was Minako, with Mari and Viktoria close by. A few members of the press had started to filter down to rink-side as well, setting up cameras behind where Viktor and the others were standing.
Yuri just froze in the center of the rink, a look of horror crossing his face. Even worse, after a few seconds of stillness on his part, his music started to play overhead.
['Try Everything' - Zootopia OST]
Oh oh oh oh oohhhh...
Startled, Yuri's skates went out from under him and he went tumbling gracelessly to his backside. The impact knocked the wind out of him, and he sat there in pained silence for a few seconds before he could hear a second set of skates scratching their way along the ice towards him.
"CUT THE MUSIC!" Viktor's voice called out urgently, coming to a stop directly next to his partner, sliding down to a knee with urgency as one hand settled on the younger skater's shoulder, "Yuri!"
A few seconds passed before the audio finally stopped, and the arena was plunged back into awkward silence. Yuri could hear the far-off sound of Chris trying to shoo some of the reporters away, but it wasn't working out too well. He just felt his head swimming and a ringing noise grew in his ears, even as Viktor helped him sit forward with a hand sliding down his back for support.
"Wh-where did they all come from?" The skater wondered, holding his head as it started to hurt again, "Why are they all here suddenly?"
The Russian glanced back at the mob, seeing the flashes of cameras from the second floor, but then turned back to his spouse, "Forget about them. They're just looking for an easy story. Drumming up drama where they don't need to."
"...As if I didn't already have enough to worry about! Now I've got the media breathing down my neck just during practice!?" Yuri was already getting rather agitated, "This isn't supposed to be a spectator moment!"
"I know...but there isn't much of a chance that we can get them to leave. We'll have to press on in spite of them."
"I can't skate like this." Yuri started, feeling a tightness in his chest, "I'm going to be tripping all over myself."
Viktor gave a worried look, even more so than he had been already, "Just breathe." He rubbed that spot on his partner's back where he'd settled his hand before, but then pushed to standing, even as he was leaning far forward to stay close. Stepping gingerly on his toe-picks, he forced Yuri to turn fully around, putting their backs to the audience before finally moving directly in front of the man again and kneeling down, "Clear your mind. It's just us out here now." He reached forward to put his hands over his husband's ears, seeing the dark circles under Yuri's eyes. For a moment, the previous year's Cup of China garage-moment was flashing through the Russian's mind, and the terrified look that Yuri had given in those few seconds when he'd pulled his ear-plugs out to hear the cheering from the crowd. Viktor watched those nervous brown eyes rise to meet his own, but in that moment, instead of merely offering that kiss to console the man, he just leaned forward and gave it. He held there until he could sense the worried look on his partner's face ease up a bit, and moved instead to press their foreheads together, still holding his hands over the man's ears, uncovering them only in his own direction, "I'll skate it alongside you, okay? Just like we used to. We'll do it together."
Yuri nervously nodded, "O-Okay..."
Viktor could feel the relief in his partner's trembling frame, and moved to stand up again, trailing his fingers down the man's shoulders and arms to take his hands and pull him up as well. When Yuri was safely upright, the silver legend stroked the man's cheek and kissed him quickly one more time before stepping just to the left, "When you're ready."
Minako had a nervous look on her face, brows furrowed as she looked on through the glass to where the pair were standing with their backs towards them. She felt a hand come up against her back, and looked back quickly to spot Mikhail there coming up behind her, wedging himself into the corner where the windows met the wall. She drew in a breath and leaned back against him, "This must be overwhelming for him."
"I think Vivi's got it under control." The elder Russian offered, clasping one thumb in the palm of the opposite hand where he wrapped his arms around the woman's sides, "Yuri just needs a second to get his head in the game."
"He'd never be able to manage this on his own... His anxiety would've gotten the better of him by now if not for Viktor."
"That's what he's there for." Mikhail agreed, thinking back on a certain interview the skaters had given at Trophée de France, "...Yuri said something recently that seems truer now than it did before."
"What's that?"
"Sometimes...there's a place you can't reach unless you have a dream too large to bear alone." The man repeated, "Everything on the ice is 'love.'"
"I think they're almost ready. Look, pipaw." Viktoria pointed, both hands on the glass where she was trying to see down, "Viktor's coming back."
The silver skater shrugged out of his team jacket a second time, skating past the rink-wall opening to toss the garment towards Chris, then rounded all the way back out to center again. Frost flew from his blades as he twisted to stop where he'd been standing before, reaching to take his partner's out-stretched hand again and stepping into position.
Yuri stepped a bit further to the right, almost too far away to be able to hold his husband's hand anymore, but giving it a light squeeze before finally letting it go and stepping into his starting pose. Viktor watched him closely, giving him a few moments to catch his breath before setting his own skates into their proper place. When Yuri gave the nod, the Russian lifted his head and waved an arm to whoever was watching from the control room.
The crowd in the prep area was buzzing with excitement, cameras rolling as everyone focused on the ice. No one was speaking though; focus was like a laser. Everyone wanted to know whether the injured skater could manage to get through his program. Minako had her phone in hand, loaded up to Instagram where a post from a fan-page was linking to a LiveStream video; the caption below it read 'Yuri Nikiforov GPF Short Program Official Practice: The Men's Singles event rides on his shoulders. Watch now!'
On the far end of the wall of windows, Yurio pushed his way through the press, forcing his path until he could finally see. The music started half a heartbeat later...and the two skaters started the dance.