Ryuugazaki: I have come out of my fan fiction writing hiatus/break/retirement to write a (brief?) Yuri On Ice fanfic because a) why not? and b) none of these fanfics are satisfying me in the way I need to be satisfied. I need to be satisfied and the best way to get satisfied is if you do it yourself. So here we go.

Tumblr AU Prompt: Victor is harboring two hopeless crushes: one on the cute boy with glasses in his art history class and the other on the sexy, mysterious figure who skates alone on the local outdoor rink at night.

Chapter One
(Wednesday, 9 September 2015 – 8:45am, Detroit, Michigan)

It was the first day of the new semester for Yuri Katsuki. The figure skating season had begun in July and Yuri was dedicated to throwing himself into his studies and into his career as a professional figure skater. His first class of this day was Art History. The instructor of the class, Laura Heiner, was running late. Yuri's fellow classmates were slowly filling the room. Yuri, wanting to make a good impression on his professor, wanted to be early to class. And he was, too. Phichit Chulanont, a fellow figure skater and his roommate, was also taking art history this semester; Phichit, however, was taking art history on Thursdays because the Wednesday class was full. Yuri was sitting to the extreme right of the classroom while most of his classmates were sitting to the left of him. Yuri was doodling in his binder, trying to draw the octopi from The Dream of the Fisherman's Wife. Whenever the door opened, Yuri's eyes shot towards the door. He really wants his professor to come to class.

Instead of the professor walking through the door, it was a tall man with flowing silver hair that was kept in a ponytail. His long lashes obscured his sparkling turquoise eyes. He was wearing black skinny jeans, a dark blue, striped cardigan, and Nike Air Force sneakers. He sat right next to Yuri, placing his messenger bag on the back of his chair. The silver-haired man took out a notebook and leaned back. He chewed on his lip and played with his ballpoint pen. Yuri was gaping at him.

"Yes?" The silver-haired man looked at the Yuri. "May I help you?"

"No, I'm sorry," Yuri muttered. "You just have very long hair." The man smiled. "It's nice." The man smiled harder. Yuri turned around and continued drawing the octopi.

It's 8:50am now and the professor finally came in. "I apologize for my lateness, class. I was in traffic." The professor went on a spiel about downtown Detroit, talking about how the police were doing an investigation so she had to use the side-streets. "I originally wanted to do an icebreaker game, but, if I do it now, it would cut into the time I need to explain the syllabus for this course. So I apologize for that." Professor Heiner gave a girl her syllabus for the class and told them to pass them around. The girl did as she was asked. Yuri and the silver-haired man were the last two to receive a copy of the syllabus.

Professor Heiner explained her class, broke down the syllabus, and suffered the questions her students asked. Yuri didn't exactly tune his professor out, but he wasn't necessarily paying attention, either. He took a break from drawing the octopi and looked up. His professor was still talking. Then he looked to his left. Some students were on their phones. Then he looked at the silver-haired man. The silver-haired man was spaced out a bit, looking at something in Yuri's direction. Yuri quickly turned the page of his syllabus along with his class. How long is this thing? Six pages? He touched the packet. It felt thicker.

"Next, I will be passing out samples of the types of essays I want to receive in this class." Professor Heiner gave the same girl the bunch of papers and passed them around. Like before, the silver-haired man and Yuri were the last to receive them. She droned on and on, not once checking to see if her students were remotely intrigued by the prospect of learning about European art. I should've taken an Asian art class. His older sister, despite their awkward relationship, always made sure to give him the chance to imbue himself with art. Mari loved going with him to the Fukuoka Art Museum and Yuri loved being there with Mari. Why didn't I take an Asian art class? He mused. Then he remembered that they didn't offer that. He just had to accept that he couldn't have that and took what he could get.

Yuri outlined the octopi in pen, deeming himself to be done with the octopi. Maybe later he'll get to draw the ama.

"Now, this is a three-hour class that meets once a week." Yuri stopped drawing. "In order to be marked as 'present,' you must be here within fifteen minutes of the start of the class or else you will be marked as absent. You are allowed three absences or else you fail the class. There are no make-up classes." She walked to the other side of the room. "You will have to go to a museum once a week, pick a piece, and verbally analyze and describe it. I will not accept any pictures of your chosen artwork."

Yuri looked over at the silver-haired man. He was writing in an unfamiliar language in his spiral notebook. It looked to be similar to Ukrainian, except that it didn't have that Ї letter. The silver-haired man tore a paper out of his notebook and wrote on it. He folded it, passed it to Yuri, and smiled.

Yuri tentatively opened the paper and read it. It had a large scribble on it. He squinted and gave up. He wasn't trying to read that right now.

Ryuugazaki: This was fun. Maybe I'll write more.