It's the same way they walked to the hotpot place, his arm around Yuri's neck, side by side, but Yuri hadn't been holding onto him, then, too, had he? He'd been lost in thought. I ran my mouth too much at the press conference.

It feels like years, instead of only hours ago, and he's not sure how he managed to forget it until just now, reminded in a moment of clarity.

(And instantly forgetting again, when Yuri shifts under his arm and Victor looks around, too.)

Shanghai. He likes it here. Has been here before, even if he can't recall, at the moment, exactly when, or for what. Some competition, among dozens of competitions. Yakov nagging at him. His time spent between the rink and the hotel and the bars nearby, probably, like usual.

What a lonely existence it seems, now, to look back on. Even with the fans, and the crowds, and the interviews, and the other skaters. It was always just him. He'd never minded being held apart. Wanted it, even. Enjoyed it. Being the best. "Yuri..."

Changing everything. Always staying close, now. Doing exactly what Victor had been asking of him for so long. "Do you like Shanghai?"

He can't remember if he asked before, or not. "Are you excited for tomorrow?"