Her (a Yuri Plisetsky x Reader fanfic)

3

(Okay quick A/N, since I don't like books that have a shit ton of author notes, I'm making a book called 'oof'. It's just updates, etc. on this book and others if I write another book. I think I'll reconstruct the book I started on my other account. It's a Tokoyami x reader for all my bnha dudes out there. It's pretty shitty so I'll redo it. Anyway, that's all.)

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Your speech will be in bold.
Yuri will be in normal font.

Your POV
   
As we enter my private studio, I see my cat Sammi, a female calico. Ambling over to her, I pick her up and scratch behind her ears. For some odd reason she likes that. I turn back to see Yuri staring intently at Sammi. Carefully, unsurely, he walks over.

“Is this your cat?” he asks. I nod. “Cute.” I hear him murmur beneath his breath, as if he’d hoped I wouldn’t hear it.

“Do you like cats?” He looks away but nods. “Good to know, I guess. This is Sammi.” He turns back towards us, eyes fixated on the cat. “Dude, you can pet her. Don’t get shy on me.” His face lights up a bit and he raises his hand before delicately petting Sammi. She purrs and he obviously fights back a smile.

“Hey, is it safe for her to be in here while we train? Will she get in the way? And what if she accidentally gets hurt?” I chuckle at how cute he is when he’s worried. After putting her down on the floor, I point to her tower, and she runs over, climbing to the top tier. “She’ll stay there?” Nodding, I motion to the bar for him to do warm ups. He does as I told while I start trying to perfect my step sequence. Still surveilling his warm ups, I tie my jacket around my waist. “Alright, that’s enough. Let’s start on the routine Lilia and I put together for you to practice before you get your programs finished.”

“I guess it’ll be easier than last year if you worked on it.” I smirk. ‘This fool.’ Putting on the song, I make my way to the center of the floor beside him. He understands my message and moves to the side. Once the song starts, I instantly begin the routine. Unlike last year, this won’t just be ballet. I do interpretive dance. He’ll need to express emotion if he wants to succeed. When it’s finished, I wave him over. “So you think you can do that?” Hesitantly, he nods. “Good.” I show him the first steps and ask him to do the same. After running the short segment of the dance with him, I step back to watch him do it by himself. “Technically, it was nearly acceptable, but I need to see emotion and your interpretation of the song.” We continue to run it, yet I spent most of that time yelling at him about emotion and such. I’ve shown him almost all of the routine. If we were going on technicalities, he’s almost perfect, but we aren’t. I let out a loud sigh, and apparently he hears it. He asks, “What’s wrong with it to make you sigh like that?” I give him a ‘you can’t be serious’ look. “What was wrong with it every other time?” He gets frustrated and starts yelling at me, “WELL SORRY IF I DON’T WANT TO SIT HERE AND TALK ABOUT MY FEELINGS,” I try to keep myself under control. “That’s not what I’m asking you to do. I’m asking you to show me your emotions.” I sigh. “Whatever, we’re done today. Just...get some rest.”  

I sigh. ‘First day and he already hates me. Great.’ Once I’ve made it back to my room, I look in the mirror and let a tear slip out, then another. I look down to the faint scars just below my elbow. I promised Lilia I wouldn’t do it again, and I’m determined to keep it. But what can one cut hurt, right? I stand with finality and slip quietly to the kitchen. After getting a small paring knife, I make my way back upstairs. I set the cool blade against my arm and press down. Pulling it across my skin, I can already tell the mark will be visible enough to have to hide it. (Time to overshare, yay! This is what I do so don’t tell me it’s unrealistic. Sorry for the suddenly depressing chapter.)