He hasn't been on a beach in a long time. Never felt drawn to visit the five Great Lakes more than the very times in five years he was drug out by rink mates, most especially Phichit, who refused to take no for an answer and leave him to their room or the ice. (Everyone needs a break sometime, Yuri! You need to enjoy everything around us, too!)
Even forgotten for years and years, it's not forgotten entirely. Beach days with rink mates, beach days with his family here, as a child.
Slides into his muscles like the push on the ice, hours in, even when the pull of the water on his feet and ankles is heavier than his skates ever do. Not like choking tight laces that make his boots into his feet, every move what he wants and needs it to be. Effortless melding. This drags him back, this slows him down, but he can feel the muscles and the focus, surging through his legs, bursts of energy billowing down and up, not used already this morning.
Dashing far away, concerned with getting away, until there's suddenly a large splash, a yelp of surprise and Maccachin's happy barking, while Yuri looks over his shoulder and stops entirely. Chest heaving, cheeks flushed with the wind, the water, the embaressment, the extertion, and even play-fear. It's all a wash in his face, swimming in his chest, when he sees something he absolutely doesn't.
He's on the ground, Maccachin jumping at him, head butting his shoulders, licking his face like this is the best turn of events. Like Victor Ni- Victor isn't down. Fallen into the water. Water lapping up at all of his pants, water dripping from his hair, his chin, hands. Trying to fend off his own soaked poodle, laughing and calling out to Yuri to rescue him now.
Who can't help the laugh that startles out of his mouth -- surprising even him, wind blowing his hair across his forehead, almost in his eyes -- as he takes tentative, surprised steps, the quicken as he's getting back there. Even if there isn't actually that far away, and he looks. Victor looks like a surprised kid, a sodden mess, and even painfully perfect even then. But even more real in it. Like a normal person.
This is Victor, his mind whispers, strangely giddy, one hand trying to find Maccachin's neck, and the other Victor's hand. Victor who said he never got time to be with Maccachin, never got time to be anywhere but the ice before now. (Before Yuri.)
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Even forgotten for years and years, it's not forgotten entirely.
Beach days with rink mates, beach days with his family here, as a child.
Slides into his muscles like the push on the ice, hours in, even when the pull of the water on his feet and ankles is heavier than his skates ever do. Not like choking tight laces that make his boots into his feet, every move what he wants and needs it to be. Effortless melding. This drags him back, this slows him down, but he can feel the muscles and the focus, surging through his legs, bursts of energy billowing down and up, not used already this morning.
Dashing far away, concerned with getting away, until there's suddenly a large splash, a yelp of surprise and Maccachin's happy barking, while Yuri looks over his shoulder and stops entirely. Chest heaving, cheeks flushed with the wind, the water, the embaressment, the extertion, and even play-fear. It's all a wash in his face, swimming in his chest, when he sees something he absolutely doesn't.
He's on the ground, Maccachin jumping at him, head butting his shoulders, licking his face like this is the best turn of events. Like Victor Ni- Victor isn't down. Fallen into the water. Water lapping up at all of his pants, water dripping from his hair, his chin, hands. Trying to fend off his own soaked poodle, laughing and calling out to Yuri to rescue him now.
Who can't help the laugh that startles out of his mouth -- surprising even him, wind blowing his hair across his forehead, almost in his eyes -- as he takes tentative, surprised steps, the quicken as he's getting back there. Even if there isn't actually that far away, and he looks. Victor looks like a surprised kid, a sodden mess, and even painfully perfect even then. But even more real in it. Like a normal person.
This is Victor, his mind whispers, strangely giddy, one hand trying to find Maccachin's neck, and the other Victor's hand.
Victor who said he never got time to be with Maccachin, never got time to be anywhere but the ice before now. (Before Yuri.)