Change of Heart - Yuri Plisetsky x Reader

Epilogue

Butterflies. Again, the butterflies. Never ceasing, never tiring, even after visiting me countless times before. I'd done this. I'd done this before. But the anticipation never truly vanished, the spark never died.

Overcome with nervous energy, I paced, straightening my hair and adjusting my outfit countless times. It was dark here, but I could hear the crowd surrounding me, muffled only slightly by the walls and the curtains ahead of me.

"Hey." His voice came out of the darkness, disembodied, whispering - Grounding me. "You okay?"

I nodded, then realized he couldn't see me. "Yeah. Just nervous... This is a pretty huge deal."

"You'll do fine," he reassured me, putting a comforting hand on my shoulder. "We've been practicing nonstop for months now - There's no way we could mess this up."

"Easy for you to say," I mumbled, unable to hide my frustration. "You've been skating since you were, like, eight. I've only got a couple years on me. And you choreographed this piece, so you probably know it way better than I do!"

I was panicking again. His presence didn't help, couldn't help, not this time. The Olympics, I repeated in my head, like a mantra. The Olympics, this is the fucking Olympics.

"Hey," he said, stepping in front of me and taking hold of my shoulders. "Who's the one who was practicing overtime while also maintaining a job and taking foreign language classes?"

I frowned at him.

"Me," I murmured, arms crossed.

"Who's the one who was exercising four hours a day and skating for six?"

"Me..."

"Who's the one who landed a triple axel after only three years of training?"

I sighed, conceding the victory to him. "That was me."

"Right," he said. "Now, if you've done all that fantastic stuff already, what factors are against you taking a victory here?"

I smirked at him.

"This is so stupid, Yuri."

"But it works," he said sternly. I couldn't see him, but I could feel his gaze. "What's going against you?"

"The whole world and then some, but it doesn't matter one bit."

It was a saying we'd adopted together when we'd started competing together - Ridiculous, but powerful. Somehow instilling confidence despite the ludicrous nature of it. I found myself giggling.

Outside, the announcer was speaking again.

"Coming up next, representing Russia, Yuri Plisetsky and (Y/n) (L/n)!"

"Oh god, oh god," I murmured, adrenaline shooting through my veins. "This is it."

"Breathe through it," Yuri mumbled, taking my hand firmly as we turned to face the music. "Chest out, shoulders back, head high, remember. Game face?"

I tried to smile like someone who was confident, someone who knew they were going to win. But it wasn't genuine. I was too scared.

"We've been preparing this for months, (Y/n)," Yuri said, trying to reinforce the idea of confidence in my brain. "Trust me, пупсик."

I smiled - A genuine one. That nickname always made me feel floaty inside.

"You're a genius," I told him, putting a hand to my warm face. I attempted my winner's smile again. This time, it didn't falter.

"Alright," I whispered. "Let's go."

"Got it," he replied. "Break a leg."

"Very funny, Yuri."

And then we were off, beaming brightly at the crowd as we pushed away from the shadows in perfect synchrony. My stomach felt like lead. My legs were wobbly. But I could do this, I was meant to do this. I steeled myself and allowed my mind to drift to less stressful things; My cat, my apartment, Yuri falling asleep with me on the couch for the billionth time.

The music began. Somewhere out there, judges were watching. Watching and waiting to catch us slipping up. But we wouldn't slip up. Yuri boosted me, and I jumped, and Yuri caught me, and the two of us were spiraling together, perfectly on center. Yuri did a triple axel. I followed suit. I lifted Yuri into the air and held him there, arms spread as if he was flying, still wearing that winner's smile.

All the while I kept those lovely, simple things in mind, thinking of how I'd gotten to this point. My parents, once stubborn and standoffish, now beaming proudly from somewhere in the crowd. My home, back in (Y/c), left behind no more than a year ago when I'd packed my things and hopped on a flight to Russia, with no intention of returning. My struggles from years past, so distant now. So insignificant. So painful when they'd been fresh wounds, but necessary, vital in boosting towards where I was right now.

The finale was here now. The music slowed; I prepared myself for my final jump, that would hopefully win over some extra points from the judges. Backwards outside edge. Directional change; Forward outside edge; My leg swung up, my arms pulled back, and I threw myself forcefully into the air, spinning, floating. Sticking the landing, I rejoined Yuri's side - He'd just completed his final jump as well.

Now was the death spiral at the end, but it didn't feel particularly deadly. I was already feeling a creeping trickle of relief as the music faded. It was over. It was over, I'd done it, I hadn't flubbed any of my jumps or fallen or cracked my skull open on the ice. The music ended with a somber note, and the two of us followed along with it.

My chest swelled with pride as I waved enthusiastically to the crowd. This was what I'd fought for. This was what I'd worked so hard to achieve, what I'd broken my own heart and then mended it for. This bliss, this euphoric feeling of standing there in front of the crowd and being able to feel happy, being able to smile at them and be proud of what I'd done. Being able to stand next to Yuri and not have to worry that it might all come to an end one day. This was what I'd earned.

How much different would my life be right now, if I'd never done all of that stuff before? I wondered to myself, as we exited the ice after a final farewell. How unsatisfied with life would I be? And then, laughing to myself: How on earth did I have the balls to do all that when so much could've gone wrong at any moment?

It's like jumping, I decided, a metaphor coming to me immediately. Jumping on the ice was terrifying back then. And risky. And likely to end with me falling flat on my face and breaking my nose or possibly falling into a coma and never waking up.

But it was the same with all of the other things I'd done to get here. Everything could've ended badly. I could've been caught immediately when I'd started going to the skating rink. I could've broken my neck on the ice, instead of just my leg. Or maybe my leg could've been permanently damaged, and I wouldn't be able to do so much as walk ever again, let alone skate. I could've been whisked away from Russia without being allowed to even give my piece on the night I ran off with Yuri. It was sheer dumb luck that I'd been able to convince my parents to listen.

I could've avoided all of that entirely by never attempting anything dangerous in the first place, I told myself. But if I'd never taken the chance, I would never have gotten to where I am today.

Silly you, A poetic version of myself whispered in my head. You would never have been able to fly.