'You say that as if we ever get to choose.' Yakov shakes his head a little. 'We don't. We choose only what we do about it. And that is the story, happy or not.'
From the outside, he and Lilia had been an ideal match for their day. The figure skater and the ballerina, Soviet strength and grace and beauty on display for the world to see. His career could not have compared with hers for prominence -- no one ever took foreign diplomats to an ice-skating rink, whereas it was nigh-impossible for them to escape the obligatory Bolshoi performances -- but they had not been competitors in that sense.
Would it have ended differently, if they had been? Would they have loved differently, in this world that children like Viktor and Yuri live in, where so many more doors are open to them and the ice is always as smooth and perfect as glass?
Perhaps it is a luxury to be old, and not have to worry about such things any longer. And yet Viktor is here now, looking tired and lost and trying to hide it, as he did when he was no older than Yuri over there. This next part is where he must be careful.
'But if you are breaking your heart on the ice over and over again, are you really trying to tell the story? Or are you trying to punish yourself for telling it?' He reaches up to push his hat up with the tip of one finger. 'One is constructive. The other...is not.'
To Yuri's ears, from what he can hear, this is a strange sort of conversation. Viktor has always been one to throw himself headlong into his stories, and Stay Close to Me is no exception; it wouldn't be as good as it is if he'd half-assed any part of it. But why are he and Yakov talking about all of this now? Isn't this the sort of thing that they would have discussed much, much longer ago, when the program was first taking shape? Or is this like what Yuri himself has had to do in the middle of a program, when he wasn't happy with the first half and had to figure out how to do better in the second half?
The Olympics must've messed everything up. Everyone's season had gone crazy because of them, and it wouldn't surprise Yuri at all if even Viktor Nikiforov was feeling frustrated afterwards. Yakov might be a grouchy old fart on the best of days, but he's still the only coach that Yuri would've wanted, and for once he actually is listening. To both of them.
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From the outside, he and Lilia had been an ideal match for their day. The figure skater and the ballerina, Soviet strength and grace and beauty on display for the world to see. His career could not have compared with hers for prominence -- no one ever took foreign diplomats to an ice-skating rink, whereas it was nigh-impossible for them to escape the obligatory Bolshoi performances -- but they had not been competitors in that sense.
Would it have ended differently, if they had been? Would they have loved differently, in this world that children like Viktor and Yuri live in, where so many more doors are open to them and the ice is always as smooth and perfect as glass?
Perhaps it is a luxury to be old, and not have to worry about such things any longer. And yet Viktor is here now, looking tired and lost and trying to hide it, as he did when he was no older than Yuri over there. This next part is where he must be careful.
'But if you are breaking your heart on the ice over and over again, are you really trying to tell the story? Or are you trying to punish yourself for telling it?' He reaches up to push his hat up with the tip of one finger. 'One is constructive. The other...is not.'
To Yuri's ears, from what he can hear, this is a strange sort of conversation. Viktor has always been one to throw himself headlong into his stories, and Stay Close to Me is no exception; it wouldn't be as good as it is if he'd half-assed any part of it. But why are he and Yakov talking about all of this now? Isn't this the sort of thing that they would have discussed much, much longer ago, when the program was first taking shape? Or is this like what Yuri himself has had to do in the middle of a program, when he wasn't happy with the first half and had to figure out how to do better in the second half?
The Olympics must've messed everything up. Everyone's season had gone crazy because of them, and it wouldn't surprise Yuri at all if even Viktor Nikiforov was feeling frustrated afterwards. Yakov might be a grouchy old fart on the best of days, but he's still the only coach that Yuri would've wanted, and for once he actually is listening. To both of them.