Chapter Text
It was a pleasure to burn. It was a special joy to feel the flames of your own exhaustion eating away at your ankles and knees up through your entire body - how you breathed out the smoke of the furnace inside your heart into the cold of the stage and suffocated the competition and astonished the onlookers.
The gentle yet rapid movement in your legs carried you over the ice, and before you'd known it, the fire in your heart had been extinguished, and the performance was over. It was your greatest piece yet. You heard the applause and cheers of the crowd as you finally broke down. Be it the pain and exhaustion in your legs or the realization of what had just happened, you didn't care for it and just let the tears ruin your makeup as you bowed your head to the people.
This was your grand entrance into the world of figure skating. This was your chance to show the world what they'd been missing out on while you'd been hiding behind gym shoes and dance rehearsals away from the ice and in the safety of a gymnasium.
Those were the very sentences you'd written into your diary once before. The only difference between the dried ink of two years ago and the still shiny ink on the page before you were how truthful they turned out to be. You continued to write in fear of forgetting the events of today.
The feeling of the rink's cold temperature against your sensitive skin, the panic in your chest at every jump you dared to make - it all had been too exhilarating to risk forgetting. You'd smashed the hopes and dreams of your competition mercilessly, which caused even the most experienced skaters you'd met at the competition to frown at the sight of your scores.
"You're going to change the sport in unconventional ways," your parents quoted what the newscasters had said about you when they'd called you after you'd returned to your hotel room. "A rising star in the world of figure skating," you quietly repeated to yourself as you closed your thin diary and got up from the small desk.
A blush crept across your face at the praise and comparisons people had made. They'd even gone as far as calling you worthwhile competition for the likes of last year's medalists- Heavens, if you continued to think about that, then you'd get no sleep tonight!
You threw both book and pen into your traveling bag and flopped down into bed. The past three days had been nerve-wracking beyond belief, and you decided that you'd finally deserved some rest.
At the very same time your exhausted and bruised body finally drifted to sleep, a of sleep deprived skater and his far too chatty senior were on a plane to Russia. The older skater was all too happy to chat Yuri's ears off about all sorts of things (most of all complimenting his husband in a passive-aggressive way to add to Yuri's irritation at having lost to the older Yuuri by only a few points).
The things he'd give to be in that Yuuri's place right now. He looked over his left shoulder and away from the window. On Viktor's left sat the other Yuuri, sleeping as if Viktor wasn't single-handedly keeping most of the plane's passengers awake with his talk about how very close the point gap between the two Yuris had been.
"You don't get to judge me, old man," Yuri finally snapped back when Viktor's voice got too irritating to listen to, "You are not even participating this year, so stop giving me shit for second place."
Viktor laughed at his blatant hostility and the annoyed "Language" he got from Yakov, who sat right behind Viktor. "I am just taking time to be a proper coach," he defended his decision, "And you got to lose to me last year, so I don't see me not participating as something you should get upset about."
The younger skater didn't manage to get out any answer to that, so he just grumbled various insults at Viktor. "But anyhow, since you do not like me reminding you of your shortcomings, how about we talk about something else?" The older suggested and turned his head back to look at his coach.
"How about you finally go to sleep?" Yuri hissed, "Shouldn't old people like you get plenty of rest? Even your lazy husband is asleep, so how about you copy him instead of the other way around for once?"
Viktor, completely disregarding Yuri's suggestion, began bothering Yakov for a short while before turning back to Yuri. "Yakov didn't show you the videos from the competition in France?" Viktor gasped in shock upon hearing Yakov's answer to his question. Yuri groaned at the newfound excitement he heard in Viktor's voice.
Why was he even entertaining a conversation with that man? Oh, right, because he forgot his headphones at the hotel. "I don't care for it," Yuri announced and turned to face the window on his right again, "So why would I bother with watching?" "Because you're missing out!" Viktor chimed and fished his phone out of his left pocket.
Yuri let out a pained sigh. To think he'd have to sit through two more hours of Viktor's nonsense just because he couldn't fall asleep. This is torture, he thought and leaned his forehead against the cold glass of the window. "Here it is!" Viktor yelled out excitedly, causing a few people to let out annoyed groans across the plane at the noise.
"I figured you wouldn't watch it, so I downloaded the video before we boarded the plane," Viktor said with a self-satisfied smile as he turned down the volume of his phone. "And I still don't want to watch some good-for-nothings throw themselves on the ice, so drop it, old man," Yuri insisted, "Just let me sleep, for god's sake."
"Not "throwing himself on the ice"," Viktor corrected, "And the kid is certainly not a good-for-nothing, either. You'll be seeing him in Moscow, so it would be good preparation to see how he skates, don't you agree?" "I don't care," Yuri repeated, "Live out your obsession over whoever it is in front of Yakov or wake up your husband- Stop bothering me with it!"
"But I'm sure you'd like watching it more than they would," Viktor told him and reached over to hold his phone over Yuri's eyes, "He's a supposed "rising star" in the figure skating world, and they compare him to you, saying he might beat your personal best in Moscow with how much he's been improving lately."
Yuri clenched his teeth. Admittedly, he'd gotten curious and very upset at Viktor's description of this new skater, so he wanted to see just how much the old man was exaggerating. But, then again, that would be exactly what Viktor wanted - Yuri had learned that much over the past two years.
"Stop trying to mess with me," Yuri finally demanded and pushed Viktor's hand away, "Some rookie is not about to get the better of me, no matter what you might say about him. That's a simple fact. I don't need to see him skate to know that." Viktor hummed and pondered whether or not he should continue trying to force Yuri to watch the video of the supposed rookie's free skate.
He turned off his phone after a few seconds of thinking and put it away. "Alright, alright," he sighed as he adjusted his posture, "Then I guess you also wouldn't want to hear that he got first place against Chris?"
"I've won against that guy before. That's no achievement," Yuri spat and rolled his eyes. "But what if I told you how much he won by?" Viktor purred as he gained Yuri's interest once more, and the latter completely forgot about not letting Viktor get what he wanted.
"By what? Like five points?" Yuri mocked and gazed over at Viktor. "Almost thirty," the older corrected calmly, not losing his teasing grin. Yuri burst out laughing at the words. "Yeah, right, because a newbie can beat an experienced skater just like that," he laughed, "Your jokes are getting bad, Viktor."
The older chuckled at Yuri's demeanor. "You still don't believe me, huh?" He asked and leaned forward to look at the younger skater's face. "Of course not," Yuri exclaimed, "You're just trying to make me nervous because you're scared I'll kick the pork cutlet bowl's ass again and have him settle with second for the third time in a row!"
"Well, that wouldn't be the case if you'd gotten second in the finals last year instead of third, would it?" Viktor quickly retorted, having seen Yuri's answer coming the moment he'd begun to reply.
"Will you stop talking about that already?" Yuri finally yelled out, causing some other passengers to shout various complaints over at him. His face flushed a light pink in embarrassment, and Viktor's laugh at the color in his cheeks didn't help the god-awful feeling.
"You're the worst, Viktor."