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fivetimechamp) wrote2017-11-26 09:31 pm
fivetimechamp) wrote2017-11-26 09:31 pm
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It's a perfect night for some fireworks!
When he'd said "rest day," he'd meant rest day. He's not really sure Yurio and Yuri had wholly understood him when he'd told them that taking a break is part of training, too, and they'd more or less spent the afternoon trying to escape back to the rink and their short programs and their training.
Which means they're still over-thinking it.
Which means they still aren't relaxing. Not at the spring festival, not at the hot spring, not at any of their evening meals or early morning runs. He knows he can't actually force them to relax, but it just about has him befuddled.
(Yurio, at least, he shouldn't be surprised by. He's only been working with Yakov for a short while, rinkmates with Victor for only the last few years, and he's never seen Victor do anything other than throw himself, body and soul, into his training, has he?
Especially this last winter.
Especially the winter before that.)
Still, for better or worse, he's the coach right now, and as their coach, he's certain they both need a break, or else they'll snap well before their debut at Onsen on Ice in only a few days' time. The day at the festival hadn't been the magic bullet, but he can admit it was more his style than either of theirs: both Yuris dislike large crowds and neither of them are very keen on interacting with people. It's an alien notion to Victor, but he'd have to be blind not to see that they both look a little more ragged and edgy than they had before -- and whatever Yakov might say, he's not so self-involved that he can't tell they need a change of pace.
Which has brought them here, to the seaside, as the sun settles deep into the water, and Victor sits back on his haunches, hands dangling between his knees, watching with pleasure as the little fire he'd built begins to seek out and consume the twigs he'd piled for tinder, before catching on some larger branches. It's still warm, but the night air is likely to cool down soon, and he wants both Yuris to stay healthy.
Besides, is there anything more relaxing than a cheerful bonfire on an otherwise empty beach?
He'd wheedled Yuri's mother into a basket of goodies to share for dinner, and it's full of simpler fare than they had at the festival, but no less toothsome (his stomach is already rumbling), and there's no one but Maccachin and some gulls to share it with. Despite the warm weather, it's still too early for most beach goers.
Which means the three of them are here alone.
Which means that finally, finally, they might begin to relax a little. "Wow! Look at that."
That being the sky over the sunset waters, glinting a fiery path. "What a beautiful spot. I wish the water weren't still so cold."
Which means they're still over-thinking it.
Which means they still aren't relaxing. Not at the spring festival, not at the hot spring, not at any of their evening meals or early morning runs. He knows he can't actually force them to relax, but it just about has him befuddled.
(Yurio, at least, he shouldn't be surprised by. He's only been working with Yakov for a short while, rinkmates with Victor for only the last few years, and he's never seen Victor do anything other than throw himself, body and soul, into his training, has he?
Especially this last winter.
Especially the winter before that.)
Still, for better or worse, he's the coach right now, and as their coach, he's certain they both need a break, or else they'll snap well before their debut at Onsen on Ice in only a few days' time. The day at the festival hadn't been the magic bullet, but he can admit it was more his style than either of theirs: both Yuris dislike large crowds and neither of them are very keen on interacting with people. It's an alien notion to Victor, but he'd have to be blind not to see that they both look a little more ragged and edgy than they had before -- and whatever Yakov might say, he's not so self-involved that he can't tell they need a change of pace.
Which has brought them here, to the seaside, as the sun settles deep into the water, and Victor sits back on his haunches, hands dangling between his knees, watching with pleasure as the little fire he'd built begins to seek out and consume the twigs he'd piled for tinder, before catching on some larger branches. It's still warm, but the night air is likely to cool down soon, and he wants both Yuris to stay healthy.
Besides, is there anything more relaxing than a cheerful bonfire on an otherwise empty beach?
He'd wheedled Yuri's mother into a basket of goodies to share for dinner, and it's full of simpler fare than they had at the festival, but no less toothsome (his stomach is already rumbling), and there's no one but Maccachin and some gulls to share it with. Despite the warm weather, it's still too early for most beach goers.
Which means the three of them are here alone.
Which means that finally, finally, they might begin to relax a little. "Wow! Look at that."
That being the sky over the sunset waters, glinting a fiery path. "What a beautiful spot. I wish the water weren't still so cold."
no subject
For Yuri, however, every new adventure here has been another chance for the demons of homesickness to slip out from the shadows and try to sink their claws into his chest. And right now, with Viktor there to remind him that they're both thousands of miles from everything familiar, he's not winning that battle.
It's easier to not feel it when they're all at practice. The Ice Castle is much smaller and quieter than the rinks he's been used to training at -- they're not fighting with hockey teams for every second of their ice time, or tripping over trainers and maintenance workers and support staff at every turn -- but locker rooms are locker rooms the whole world over, and the ice feels the same under his blades. Jumps are jumps, spins are spins, and even if it's Viktor and not Yakov telling him where and how he's fucking them up, it's what he knows. It's where he belongs. It feels like home -- or like the city that he's tried to convince himself is home, with reasonable success. In a weird way, he's oddly grateful to Viktor for the punishing training schedule he's cooked up for Onsen on Ice, because the physical exhaustion of their days means that it's been a lot easier for Yuri to just accept whatever he's been given, from the food to the baths to the cheerful (if frequently incomprehensible) voices of the Katsukis, with a sort of weary gratitude. And any time he feels himself starting to slip back into those dangerous, unguarded thoughts, all he has to do is remind himself that it's not as if either of them need another reason to think of him as a little kid, rather than a legitimate threat. Anger is one of the few weapons he has to keep the demons at bay.
But right now...all he has are his thoughts. The kind that make his eyes sting and his stomach feel tight. So at Katsudon's question, he has to take another sip of the soup to clear his throat before he replies, his voice still quiet and a little rough around the edges:
'Kasha.' It takes him a second to recall that that's not what it's called in English. '...porridge, I mean. With butter, and milk.'