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"Davaiiiiii!" Yuri yelled through a cupped hand as Otabek took the ice rink. He huffed through his nose and smirked as his friend gave him a thumbs up.
Yuri pinched his eyebrows as Otabek skated towards the center of the rink and took his position. As the music started, the Russian concentrated on the way Otabek moved. The way his mind, soul, and body all seemed to mend and become one with the music. Perfectly in sync with the sound being heard throughout the entire stadium, Otabek moved flawlessly with the music. He captured the eyes of everyone in the audience; judges included.
Yuri's eyes widened as he watched his friend perfectly execute his jumps and spins, hair flowing and arms spread out. The boy sat in his seat with the other finished finalists, completely and utterly floored by the performance as much as they were. The man that saved him from his fan girls, asked to be friends, and ate dinner with him and the other finalists did not seem one bit like the ice skater on the rink. The performer side of Otabek was simply beautiful, elegant, enticing, and all the right words to appeal to the audience and judges.
And yet, the performance was the embodiment of Otabek. It showed his determination, ambition, and the raw emotion behind the stoic face he always kept in front of others. Yuri lifted his hand to cover the small smile of pride that made its way to his face. In that moment, Otabek was the star of the stadium that no one could take their eyes away from, and Yuri couldn't be more proud.
All too soon, the music came to a stop and so did the body on the ice. Otabek's chest rose and fell as he gasped for breath, overcome by the physical and emotional toll the routine took on his body. He lifted his fist towards the crowd, the tiniest of smiles on his lips. In return, the blond boy gave a cheeky smirk back, his own fist lifting to air bump.
Yuuri - that Japanese pig - looked up from his seat a row beneath him, wearing a knowing smile. "You made a friend?"
The blond scoffs, feeling the heat rush to his cheeks as he adverts his gaze to anything put the wide pair of brown eyes staring at him, "A friend who got a higher score than you." He bites back a laugh as both Yuuri, and now apparently his "fiancé", physically flinch at his words.
"Harsh.." he hears Sala mumble as he looks up at the wide TV hanging from the roof in the middle of the stadium. A hushed silence spread throughout the crowd as eyes trailed to the screen to watch Otabek sitting on the bench, everyone in the building anxiously awaiting the score of his program.
The audience exploded in cheers and screams as Otabek's score flashed up on the screen: 112.38. The other finalists in the stands usher a few envious yet appreciative words all ranging from Otabek does it again and I'll have to do better.
A sigh of relief comes out of Yuri as he sags into his seat, mentally thanking all the gods out there he still holds first place. The feeling of relief was fleeting though, as Yuri narrows his eyes at the screen. Suddenly, his chest feels tight as he stares up at the friend he made only a day and a half ago. Their short lunch together felt like hours as they talked about their past ballet training, what they've been doing the past 5 years, and their performance today.
All of those things were such a pleasant break compared to the rigorous training they had both been - and all of the Grand Prix finalists, really - under for all those months. But the score of 112.38 on the screen was a harsh reality check. Otabek Altin, although his new friend, will always be his rival. Above all things, their rivalry will paramount any other relationship they have with each other.
Yuri clicks his tongue out of annoyance as he stands up from his seat, so abruptly that even the lovebird couple in front of him glanced back. "I'll be back." He barked out, hands in his pockets as he took steps two at a time to get to the lobby. The Russian and Japanese men he left behind looked at each other, both raising an eyebrow and shrugging.
Taking long strides, which in all honesty, isn't really that long for Yuri, he makes his way to the enclosed area for the skaters. Yuri wasn't sure what he was going to say to Otabek; he definitely should say his congratulations, but what next? Hey, even though we bonded, I'm actually supposed to hate you?
The ice tiger of Russia's facade of being tough and manly is disappearing at an alarming rate the longer the idea has time to foster in his head. Otabek is possibly the most prominent, dangerous threat standing in between him and the title of Grand Prix Champion. He wanted Otabek as a friend; he's never even had many of those honestly, but the desperation for the Champion title outweighed that.
"Hey," a low voice came from behind him. With cat-like instincts, Yuri jumped and swiftly turned around, his arms and legs instinctively going into a fighting stance. He clears his throats as he straightens himself out, his hands going back into his jacket as he nods in response.
"G-good job out there." He stutters, not even remotely used to giving compliments to other competitors.
The faintest of smiles ghosts over Otabek's lips as he nods back, "Thank you."
"Mm." Yuri looks down at his feet, shifting back and forth and side to side. He thinks about telling Otabek how he feels about the whole mess, but second guesses himself. Should he even say it? What's the point? It would ruin what small friendship they built up yesterday. But he didn't want Otabek to get a false sense of the situation. He wanted to be on friendly terms - so badly - but if that would risk him the chance to win, he would take the latter option any day. And yet, the sinking in his heart as he remembered what his skate program was all about: agape. Maybe not to such an extreme as love, but compassion definitely plays a part
Yuri's eyes brows knit in annoyance at his own indecisiveness. He's a finalist for the world Grand Prix Championships for fucks sake, and he wasn't going to let something such as emotions and feelings get in his way.
"Listen!" Yuri barks out, his mouth going into a hopefully-intimidating thin line as he looks upward at Otabek. "You did good out there,"
Otabek's eyes convey a feeling of searching as he stares back into the blond's. Yuri could feel his resolve dropping fast as he pauses mid-sentence. "But, don't forget. We're enemies." Yuri's chest tightens even more saying those words out loud. They were enemies, rivals, competitors yes, but also recently new friends. Apparently Yuri had made friends with Otabek 5 years ago, so perhaps even longer than a day and half, if you'd really count that.
"Yes. I understand." Otabek's eyes downcast to the floor, his expression looking more grim and serious than ever. Yuri bites his lip, glancing over to the posters on the wall showcasing all of the finalists - anything to avoid the intense gaze that was focused on him. "Do we have to be, though?"
The blond's eyes widen as he looks back into the dark eyes of the boy in front of him. His mind goes blank as he tries to process the question thrown back at him. Yes, of course they had to be. It was literally in their title: finalists. There has to be a winner at some point.
"We..." Otabek starts, probably trying to find the right words to say himself, "we could be both. I mean, our skating comes first, but.. there's nothing wrong with being in a friendly relationship with each other. If you respect my score, I'll respect yours."
Yuri stares wide eyes at the man in front of him, all level-headed with well-said words. Slowly, he nods his head. Yeah, maybe Otabek was right. No, definitely. Yuri raises his arm straight out towards the other, a smile/borderline smirk pulling at the side of his lips. Otabek returns the faint smile as he encloses his big, tan hands over Yuri's frail pale ones.
"To friends, then." Yuri mumbles awkwardly, feeling the heat rush to his cheeks as he shakes his hand. "I guess."
A small rumble comes from Otabek, almost a borderline chuckle, "Friends... 'I guess.'"