It's no longer just a few people calling his name: it's become a chant, rising and falling like a heartbeat, and it's not unusual. People have been chanting his name for the last five years; for the last ten. The crowds that love him, that he loves right back, glittering under their lights and basking in their support, lifted on the swelling wave of voices and applause until he can stand right here, at the top of the world, under a warm sun, under a cascade of sparkling stars.
He's grateful for it. Always is. Their love, that he returns wholeheartedly. Their expectation. Their delight at being entertained by him. Their captivation, when he weaves them a fairy tale. The trust they give him, asking him to break their hearts, and hand them back the pieces like clear, colored glass. Wanting everything from him, while he's always been happy to give it, accepting their adoration and thanking them for it the best way he knows how: by giving them more, and more. Living for their surprise, the crash and roar of applause.
He didn't quite expect it here, but he isn't accustomed to backing down, or refusing, when he's being called for. And – Katsuki Yuri might be able to beat the gold medal winner of the Junior division, but Victor doesn't lose. The gold he had around his neck earlier tonight proof as much as the numbers that sit comfortably higher than every other on every scoreboard, now, for years.
Acknowledging the call, while he steps into Katsuki's reach, allowing him to grab the bottle, before Victor is taking a quick step back and behind, turning in a quick, sharp circle, that drags Katsuki closer to him through momentum, smile going sly, and eyes going half-lidded, but bright with laughter.
"Well, what?"
Tossing his challenge back out there, before pushing the bottle of champagne into Katsuki's chest, and handing the jacket and his phone off to Chris, next to him, as the chants of his name dissolves into a loud cheer that brightens in his blood, quickens his pulse, as he's cracking his neck, and stepping in towards Katsuki, throwing his dare and arrogance and certainty right back into his face, on a glowing bed of delight and perfect, unbreakable composure.
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He's grateful for it. Always is. Their love, that he returns wholeheartedly. Their expectation. Their delight at being entertained by him. Their captivation, when he weaves them a fairy tale. The trust they give him, asking him to break their hearts, and hand them back the pieces like clear, colored glass. Wanting everything from him, while he's always been happy to give it, accepting their adoration and thanking them for it the best way he knows how: by giving them more, and more. Living for their surprise, the crash and roar of applause.
He didn't quite expect it here, but he isn't accustomed to backing down, or refusing, when he's being called for. And –
Katsuki Yuri might be able to beat the gold medal winner of the Junior division, but Victor doesn't lose. The gold he had around his neck earlier tonight proof as much as the numbers that sit comfortably higher than every other on every scoreboard, now, for years.
Acknowledging the call, while he steps into Katsuki's reach, allowing him to grab the bottle, before Victor is taking a quick step back and behind, turning in a quick, sharp circle, that drags Katsuki closer to him through momentum, smile going sly, and eyes going half-lidded, but bright with laughter.
"Well, what?"
Tossing his challenge back out there, before pushing the bottle of champagne into Katsuki's chest, and handing the jacket and his phone off to Chris, next to him, as the chants of his name dissolves into a loud cheer that brightens in his blood, quickens his pulse, as he's cracking his neck, and stepping in towards Katsuki, throwing his dare and arrogance and certainty right back into his face, on a glowing bed of delight and perfect, unbreakable composure.
"I won't go easy on you."