( Yuri sees Otabek's brief moment of fuss from the corner of his eye. While part of him wants to give him a little kick for being concerned about how tired he may or may not be, he's warmed to the core by the thought of his friend thinking about him in any capacity. It makes him feel soft and melting inside; Otabek smiles and Yuri just looks at him for a few moments before forcing himself to snap out of it with a firm blink. )

... Yeah. Yeah - me too.

( For all the cool air, a little pink settles high on his cheeks. He thinks of Yuuri again - thinks of all the grief he gives him for going goo-goo whenever Viktor walks into a room - but he's beginning to realise that maybe some things just can't be avoided. Of course, he doesn't imagine he's in love with Otabek, no fucking way -

Yuri licks his lips, then rubs a bit of unflavoured chapstick into them with a huffy little swipe. He's on the verge of saying something further when a disgruntled Yakov appears by the rink; they exchange a few cross words, and Yuri pulls on his thin gloves before checking his skates again. )

I'd better go. I swear, that old man gets worse every season.

( He grumbles, rolling out a knot of tension in his shoulder as he flexes his fingers. Should he take Otabek's hand again? Will it be weird to give it a squeeze before they commit to practice properly? In the end settles on playing it safe and keeps his hands to himself, offering Otabek a parting smirk as he moves past him to join Yakov. )

Make me work harder today, okay? Show me how good you are.