[ otabek watches yuri ease from his standing split without any real envy, no longer frustrated by approaching skating from a different angle. he'll never master the ballet based flexibility and grace that radiate off yuri the moment he takes to the ice (and even before, even now, scrolling through his feed on the edge of the rink), after a few years of better understanding his own motivation and strengths and forming his own style, as unorthodox as it can be, he's starting to feel a lot more comfortable with it.
it feels good to appreciate something without feeling inadequate.
(but he's still good, he knows it. he's found his own way to touch down between presentation and technique, found the path he needs to be on to grow in the right direction.) ]
Hm. [ nodding his hello as yuri pulls his hair back, he takes a moment to openly glance him over as if checking for any signs of late night apple pie stress, of any strain from their few hours of sleep.
none. otabek mirrors the smile like this is something he always does, his mouth curving up at one corner; more expressive than any single kiss and cry he's sat through. somewhat distantly, he's aware yuri doesn't hand out these kind of smiles, either. if it makes his chest feel strangely tight, he doesn't let on. ]
You can pick where, I'm no good with reading menus. [ which is vague but nevertheless true, more indifferent to whatever they end up eating than disinterested in dinner itself. he's more spartan than picky when it comes to food. another nod confirms that he's not worried about being paid back but agreeable for the sake of it, no point in insisting when yuri is set on making good on the price of a bag of mcdonalds.
he glances over his shoulder at the nearly empty rink then back to yuri, still half smiling. ] I'm looking forward to it.
[ a pause, an amused co-conspirator: ] There really is no one here.
no subject
it feels good to appreciate something without feeling inadequate.
(but he's still good, he knows it. he's found his own way to touch down between presentation and technique, found the path he needs to be on to grow in the right direction.) ]
Hm. [ nodding his hello as yuri pulls his hair back, he takes a moment to openly glance him over as if checking for any signs of late night apple pie stress, of any strain from their few hours of sleep.
none. otabek mirrors the smile like this is something he always does, his mouth curving up at one corner; more expressive than any single kiss and cry he's sat through. somewhat distantly, he's aware yuri doesn't hand out these kind of smiles, either. if it makes his chest feel strangely tight, he doesn't let on. ]
You can pick where, I'm no good with reading menus. [ which is vague but nevertheless true, more indifferent to whatever they end up eating than disinterested in dinner itself. he's more spartan than picky when it comes to food. another nod confirms that he's not worried about being paid back but agreeable for the sake of it, no point in insisting when yuri is set on making good on the price of a bag of mcdonalds.
he glances over his shoulder at the nearly empty rink then back to yuri, still half smiling. ] I'm looking forward to it.
[ a pause, an amused co-conspirator: ] There really is no one here.