Shining Steel (Victuuri)

Class, Sans Chris

'Sorry, Victor'

I received that text the next morning, while I was still half asleep.

My mind began racing at a frantic pace, wondering why someone was sorry, and why they'd texted me.

Why now? Why me? Why? Why? Why? Wh-

Oh, another text.

This time I actually bothered to check the sender.

'I'm not coming to class today. If you need me I'll be having some fun with Phichit ;)
- Chris'

Okay, well that was a relief. No one was out to murder me or my family today. It was just Chris' inability to keep his dick in his pants.

For all I knew, he may have just been teasing me with innuendos, but this was Chris; anything was possible. He proved that at the ice rink while we were talking about Yuuri.

Yuuri.

Hot damn.

As much as my main intention was to charm my way into his heart, Chris' revelation had only amplified my desire to charm my way into his pants.

...

Look, Yuuri, Chris and I are all grown men, with normal...ish lives. It's perfectly normal to want romance with a side serving of sexual intimacy (or, in Chris' case, just the sexual intimacy).

Another thing I'd been pleased to learn through my best friend's sexual rendezvouses, was that Yuuri was clearly into men... to some extent. To what extent, exactly, I'd have to find out.

I was rather excited by the text, actually, since it meant that I would be all alone with Yuuri and the poles.

With newfound motivation, I stretched out my legs, ran a hand through my silver hair, stroked Makkachin and began to make my way to my front door. Makkachin bounded along behind me, completely ignoring the fact that I'd already walked her that morning, and sat down beside her leash.

"I'm sorry, Makka, but I haven't got time for a second walk today."

Makkachin began whining at my lack of movement to take her out again and picked up her leash in her mouth.

"Come on, Makkachin. I promise I'll be able to give you proper doggy-doting later though," I told her, reaching out and stroking the poodle's fluffy head.

After a minute of further whining, my dog eventually seemed to get the picture and trotted back to the living room. I felt bad, but I had somewhere to be.

With a audible sigh, I shrugged on a coat and began to open the door.

I stopped.

Out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of my face.

No. Way.

Oh my God.

My skin was almost completely perfect.

I'd clearly been half asleep whilst doing my skin routine in the dark that morning, as I almost missed the gloriousness of it all together. It was as though a magical spell had been cast over my face.

I took a moment to search for visible spots on my skin, before finding just one tiny, reddened bump within my sideburns.

And that was all.

After so many years of trouble, my skin finally had a day of near perfection.

I felt the tears welling up in my eyes. This was it, this was the face I'd dreamed of for so many years. So many years of my life spent in the makeup chair, wishing that it would just end, wishing that the cosmetics were not their paints, and that my face were not their canvas. It had taken nearly twenty years but I could finally see my true face without the blemishes that plagued me so.