( continued from here. )

[singles]

I saw those. [ he's not an unfriendly guy but his social feeds aren't heavy on fellow skaters. he's not really friends with many fellow skaters which is the crucial point, his circle of ties and acquaintances are a mottled bunch, disreputable djs and career models, students and book club enthusiasts. but phichit is impossible not to get along with ( and jean jacques leroy is impossible not to laugh at ) so even otabek had grinned over the flood of pictures from the past few hours, each one increasingly more absurd than the last as the night crept onward.

it had been immediately obvious in the way yuri walked out that he isn't in a terrible mood, maybe a little huffy but far from being as murderous as his initial text had implied. otabek doesn't call him out on it but he does catch himself feeling pleased that his offer hadn't been declined, realizing that he really does appreciate the company once he feels yuri drop his forehead against his back.

there's a few mcdonalds on the way back to the hotel, he'd done a quick search on his phone just to be sure, taking a short detour to the nearest one.

stuck at a red light, golden arches just visible down the street, otabek turns a little to glance at yuri. curiously, not condescendingly: ] You aren't tired?

Comments

[tigerprint]

( Yuri still struggles with the concept of freedom on the ice. He's a powerhouse to be sure - he's determined to grind both Viktor and Yuuri into the ice - but his determination is as much a hindrance as it is a help. Moments where his mind does go blank are the best, that's when the beauty of his program can reach its loveliest form, but he never manages to achieve it in practice. He only sometimes reaches it when he's in a competition.

Yuri keeps half an eye on the rest of the competition. As expected, Viktor and Yuuri show up late looking a little worse for wear, and even JJ manages a few turns around the ice before having to duck out to be sick. That gets a satisfied little smirk, as do each and every one of Yuuri's flubbed jumps, although he can't help but be tempted to shout out little pointers that would help the idiot improve.

He keeps his thoughts to himself.

When his eyes slide over to Otabek, Yuri lets himself take his time. He watches his strong, confident movements as he works himself on the ice; he makes good on his word and doesn't go easy, which has Yuri biting back a grin as he pushes himself harder. It makes Yakov's yelling seem like background noise - sloppy left leg, Yura, get your head back on the ice! Do you want gold or not? Again! - but by the end of the session he's punishing himself, his wrapped feet twinging and his chest burning with effort.

It's good. Yuri likes it when it hurts like that; when he can feel his whole body trembling because he's giving it his all. He doesn't notice Otabek has left the ice until he realises he's the only one still out on it, at which point he stops drilling his choreography and skates over to Yakov, who releases him. His thighs are killing him but he feels energized - he always does after a productive practice - and it doesn't take him long to get washed and changed and ready to meet his friend. )

You were good, Beka.

( Yuri approaches him with his hands stuffed into his pockets and his hair pulled up into a small bun. He's damp from the shower but not as pink as he was, and his eyes are still crackling with energy from the rush of the ice. )

My favourite part was when you smashed into the ice three times in a row.

( An eyebrow flicks up, and Yuri nods his head to indicate they should start walking. )