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Yuuri Katsuki stood on the mounting snow, staring at the frozen roads next to a park he had no interest for. The cold reminded him of home, yet it confused him of what he wanted home to be.
At some point, and Yuuri knew it, that he'd have to go back to the place where all his loved ones were, and they seemed happy with that fact.
Yuuri wasn't happy, though.
The one thing he wants more than winning the gold medal is to stay with Victor for the rest of his career, but of course, it didn't seem like anytime soon that Yuuri was going to achieve his goals.
He thought, and deeply, trying to psych himself up again and reconsidering the positives of his career. A small snowflake flew down to land on his open palm.
The Japanese skater breathes out, momentarily removing the mask from his face and immediately regretting it. His mouth feels like it's freezing up all of a sudden, which causes him to cover it back up again.
He hums in place of a sigh as he shoves his gloved hands into his pockets, I'm this close to the peak of my figure skating career, his thoughts feel as if they're being rambled together, and it makes me... Need the gold medal.
He knew, though, that the Grand Prix Finals would be his last chance to achieve the goal of taking the gold medal, as well as Victor back home when he was done with his career.
But Victor had an ongoing career that he stepped away from because of him. If Yuuri didn't win gold, then Victor will have to step down from being his coach. The thought of it made Yuuri's stomach knot from nerves.
All out of the blue, though, a sudden rush of footsteps alarmed the male. Before he could even turn his head to scream, a rushing flash had come in, so fast that it made Yuuri's head spin.
The next thing wasn't the last, though, the next thing was a perfect side-kick to Yuuri's rib, knocking the older male to the side and causing him to hold his rib in pain. He begins wheezing and coughing, scrambling to remove the face mask as the cold air dries his throat and chills his nose.
The figure stomps towards Yuuri, his face one of both disgust and anger. It made Yuuri want to puke, thinking that he might get another kick, but this time to the head.
Instead, the attacker raised his arm, and Yuuri flinched as it came down, preparing himself to take the blow.
"There you are, pork cutlet bowl!" Yuri Plisetsky exclaims as he pats the leg he'd kicked his victim with, huffing and puffing from exhaustion. He must've run a long way to find me... Yuuri thought to himself as the 15-year-old straightened himself up and stared at Yuuri dead straight in the eye.
