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It’s the night of the awards ceremony. For which competition, it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is the wooden door in front of Yuzuru, this last obstacle between him and his rest. The weighty image of gold rests lightly in his mind; he can almost see it, lying carefully in his suitcase when he had a few seconds to steal away after the interviews, but there will be enough time to marvel over his new achievement later, he supposes. Instead, Yuzuru walks down the hall, to room 603. Without hesitation, he raises his hand to knock, but the door opens before he could make contact. The inviting warmth in Javier’s eyes draws him through the entryway and into his favorite embrace, even more so than the caress of a triumphant ribbon around his neck.
“Congrats, champion,” Javier murmurs against his hair as they stagger, still intertwined, to collapse onto the nearest bed. The affectionate spark in his voice kindles a roaring fire flickering in time with Yuzuru’s heartbeat, and the gold medalist’s eyes slide shut in contentment as he remembers a similarly fiery barrage from the crowd earlier that day.
It was a hazy memory, that memory of another victory. Surrounded by massive waves of white noise, the roars seem to drown out what he can remember, too. All he’s left with is the soft feathering of lips against his temple, his reward for his victory, for their victory, the shared excitement of being on another podium together (because it’s always them together, isn’t it, them against the entire world). As the camera flashes whitened the edge of the prior day, Yuzuru remembers himself vibrating with Javier’s energy, when they both forgot the entire world around them and the roar of the crowd fades away.
Now, he curls up more snugly, just to feel Javier’s lips against the side of his head again. Yes, this time, Yuzuru thinks, he did alright.