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“Wait, I can’t see you… uh, where’s this camera pointing?”
On Victor’s laptop screen, the image of Yuuri’s black shirt shuddered and shook and then snapped upwards to instead show Yuuri’s shoulders and finally his face, looking at the screen with his brows drawn in deep concentration. His hair was in disarray and his glasses sat lopsided on his nose. Victor tried his best not to laugh.
“Good morning!” he said and lifted the glass of red wine he had poured himself a few minutes earlier.
“Good evening, and happy birthday again… sorry for not getting on Skype earlier. Are you drinking?”
“Well, it’s my birthday. But only this one glass,” Victor promised. He did have the free skate tomorrow, after all, and in all likelihood an exhibition skate, too, barring that the arena ceiling collapsed on him. “I wouldn’t have been happy with you if you did come online earlier! As your coach, I know you need your sleep.”
As his coach, Victor also knew that he really should be by Yuuri’s side right now, but because of the overlap in dates between the Japanese and Russian Nationals this year, there was just no way he could do it if he also wanted to compete against Yuuri at Worlds this season – he did at least have to prove himself on home ice, even with the reputation he had. Yuuri didn’t really need him, of course. He was still a strong skater regardless of Victor’s presence. However, Victor suspected that the wavering arms and unsteady edges today wouldn’t have turned up if he’d been at rink-side, searching Yuuri’s eyes in every turn. In these moments, he did find himself worried that Yakov might be right, that perhaps he was failing as a coach. For Worlds, they would be together, though, and Victor had no conflicting responsibilities during the 4CC, since the Europeans were before that. It was just this once, he told himself to smother his guilt.
“I saw the YouTube video. You’re sure to get gold,” Yuuri said. “Your skate was beautiful.” Grimacing, he reached for a bottle of water. “I’ll have to make up for the short program in the free skate today.”
“I’m sure you can do it. Call me before the free skate, alright? Half an hour before you go. I want to talk to you again.”
He knew now that it was best not to leave Yuuri totally alone with his thoughts before a skate that counted for something. He was his own greatest enemy in these moments.
“But we’re starting early today. Won’t it be four, five in the morning for you?”
“That doesn’t matter,” Victor said, waving his hand.
Yuuri gave a lopsided smile and sipped from his water bottle again, glancing down at the desk. Victor watched him for a moment, worry bubbling up at the realisation of how stern he looked.
“Yuuri? Everything alright?” he asked, trying for a chipper tone.
“You know, last year at Nationals... it just felt like my career was already over. And now I’m sitting here talking to you the morning before the free skate. It’s just so surreal to think about sometimes.”
“Last year at Nationals, I had the same feeling,” Victor said softly.
Now he could not wait to get on the ice to measure himself against Yuuri, and Yuri, who he would have impassively let take over as his successor not even nine months ago, when it seemed pointless to challenge someone who had so much fire in him, even if he could still match him in skill. Yuuri always said that he owed Victor much when a reporter shoved a microphone at him and asked about his coach, but secretly, Victor was convinced that he was the one who had gained more and Yuuri would have been fine with or without his help. By the time Victor had come to him, he’d already picked himself up, studied a routine to get back into things, and he would have found a coach who recognised his potential, too, even if Yuuri sometimes didn’t believe he had enough. He was not a quitter, his Yuuri, and Victor was just lucky enough that he had gotten to him first.
“I miss you!” he burst out, suddenly, as all these thoughts came into his head at once.
Yuuri looked startled at the sudden exclamation and then turned red.
“I do, too. You know, for Christmas people in Japan usually go on a date…”
“Really?”
“It’s a celebration for couples in a lot of ways. I mean, I’ve never done it, and it’s not so important, I guess. But I did think about it… since now there was someone I would have liked to have celebrated with.”
Victor imagined himself sitting in a restaurant with Yuuri, wearing suits, golden lights all around them, with Christmas music playing in the background. It certainly beat shivering in the cold surrounded by reporters who wouldn’t let him get back to the hotel while Yuri next to him was seething about being currently on the road to silver. But it also would have beat most of the gold medal ceremonies he’d been part of. He stashed the mental image away. This was one to remember for retirement, when they would finally be in the same country around Christmastime.
“I bought you a gift while I was here, I hope you’ll like it,” Yuuri said, fidgeting a little.
“Oh? What is it?”
“I can’t tell you. It’s a surprise.”
Victor tried not to pout, but not very hard. “But it’s my birthday today.”
“Then it’s a Christmas gift. You don’t celebrate that until January, right?”
This made Victor laugh.
“Isn’t my birthday gift a gold medal from you, anyway?” he joked.
“Well… that’s why I had to buy something, in case it doesn’t work out,” Yuuri said with a self-deprecating smile.
“I believe in you, Yuuri. Especially if you fix that sloppy trailing left arm today…”
“Yes, coach.”
Victor glanced at the clock. Yuuri should be getting ready and he needed to sleep, especially if he was to get up later in the night and give Yuuri a pep talk, but he was loathe to let him go. Still, it would only be another day until Yuuri got on a plane and joined him again. Crazy how being separated from him could affect Victor so much. He’d been travelling all his life and the few friends he had were strewn all over the globe, very rarely readily available to him. Now he couldn’t stand to be parted from Yuuri for a week.
It was almost frightening to be suddenly so dependent and yet Victor loved it.
“You should take a shower and get some breakfast,” he said. “Coach’s advice. We’ll talk in a bit.”
“You’re probably right. Sleep well, okay?” Yuuri said, and then waved a little awkwardly at the camera in a way that made Victor’s heart melt.
“Yes,” he said, smiling brightly.
They sat for a long moment in silence, neither ready to end the call, before Yuuri moved his hand with a sheepish grin, finally shutting off the laptop camera.
Victor drained the rest of his wine and leaned back in his chair. He wondered what Yuuri had gotten him. A book or movie he liked that he hoped Victor would enjoy, too? Maybe something for Makkachin? Or even something dirty? It was a fun game; Yuuri had been right to not give in to his curiosity, but then, Yuuri knew him well.
In the end, of course, it didn’t matter one bit. Yuuri would bring himself back to St. Petersburg and Victor couldn’t ask for more.