This is set between episode 5 and 6 (because we all know they started banging then)

I was listening to 'Say Something' by AGBW the whole time I was writing this, which was also where the idea for this fic bloomed. (And admittedly, the major lady hardon I suffered during episode 7)

During that particular training session, and at that particular moment, Yuri hated being in the rink.

He hated being there with so much intensity that Victor didn't need to hear him express it in words, looking at the way he moved was more than enough to get that message across.

And sadly, Victor knew too well whom the message was directed to.

His movements were stiff, yet steady as he started over, skating his way around the medium to gather enough momentum for the piece they were practicing on all night.

His arms that were blindly moving back and forth with every rhythm collected at his abdomen in a cross, creating enough speed to supply the upcoming jump.

His body flew; his beautiful, graceful form was now in the air, twirling around itself thrice in a projectile. Victor's eyes sharpened as he watched his pupil carefully, predicting a perfect landing because there wasn't a single mistake to be spotted, but the moment Yuri's head turned, the moment his eyes opened and the raven locks floated past his vision to create a path for their gazes to meet, a hateful frown formed on the younger man's features and the balance was instantly broken.

He fell with a screeching sound, so loud and sharp as if his skates were screaming from abuse, the uncomfortable noise echoing through the rink around them.

Victor sighed, pinpointing the root of the problem, it was him; it was his presence that was causing all the harsh falls rather than Yuri's skills and perfection of the moves.

He was a distraction.

A while ago it would amuse Victor, even make him happy and content with being the distraction, but that was because a while ago Yuri didn't look at him with so much hatred.

A while ago Yuri would be flustered and confused when losing focus, whether by Victor's playful advances or seducing words, the boy would be simply too transparent, and very, painfully adorable while making these mistakes.

But right now, Victor wasn't distracting him in a good way, he wasn't, by any means, confusing the boy or making him nervous.

He was simply a source of irritation for him.

He wished it was a onetime thing, only tonight, only this session, only this jump, but the reality was so bitter and constant that Victor almost got used to it, he got used to the unfamiliar type of pain and frustration when it came to that particular man who was the culprit behind them.

It was during that one night; after Yuri achieved a graceful victory and earned a top spot at the last event before the Cup Of China, when something happened that Victor wasn't entirely proud of, something that might've destroyed their relationship for good.

He still didn't know whose fault it was, and perhaps he'll never find out.

Maybe if Yuri actually spoke to him he would.

It has been two weeks of this torture, and he didn't know how much more he could take.

Victor was becoming frustrated beyond sense with every passing second; he didn't want to be in that rink any more than Yuri did.

He wanted to go home and cuddle his poodle til the poor dog suffocated from his owner's desperate longing and need for affection.

Victor didn't deserve this; he didn't know why this was happening to him in the first place, or what was happening exactly.

He just knew that he was tired, he was so fucking tired of it all.

At this point, Victor wanted to go back to Russia or flee to any other country on the map, away from that boy, away from the suffering and never come back.

Victor almost laughed at himself. As if.

His tolerance to ill treatment was almost nonexistent, he realized, but then again, this shouldn't be happening to him, not without an explanation.

In a strange rush of alien sadness, he felt as if the six months they've spent together, developing such a strong bond and breaking all boundaries, returned into nothingness by the span of two weeks.

He crossed his arms across his chest, his hand applying too much pressure on his bicep.

Victor's mother might've raised a melodramatic, shallow, and self centered ass with the interest span of a gold fish, but she raised no quitter.

He wasn't going to give up on Yuri. Not until he won the Grand Prix.

He wasn't going to lose that event, not on his watch.

"Again." He said with a very strict tone, harsher than he intended, but with so many negative thoughts running around his mind, Victor couldn't help it, not with the sight of Yuri sprawled on the floor, breaths rigid, cheeks aflame, and mouth opened to release those silent pants.

Victor's fist tightened.

That night definitely wasn't his own fault, what was in front of him was enough proof of that.

Who would be able to control themselves after being around Yuri Katsuki for so damn long?

Yuri wasn't responding, in fact, he didn't seem to listen at all to what his coach was telling him.

Victor sighed, trying one last time to be civil as he skated his way slowly to him, offering a helping hand. "It's alright, we already trained two hours longer for today, we can end the session now and start over tomorrow."

The boy glared at him with so much spite that Victor almost shivered.

His hand was shaking when Victor drew it back, away from Yuri's vision, trying his hardest to hide the fact that one look alone affected him that much.

Gulping, he watched Yuri pick himself up, a familiar pain of rejection swirling in dark waves through his body.

Why, he repeated, feeling absolutely sick and unappreciated, why was this happening?

There was a peculiar burst of energy coming out of the boy, from where, his coach had no idea, but it was striking and full of rage, enough for his movements to punish the ice under them when he glided away from Victor, giving him one more lasting glare before picking up his speed and charging in his direction.

Victor almost felt like he was going to be attacked by the way Yuri was advancing toward him with so much speed, persistence, and hatred.

He flew past him, though, not sparing him another glance.

Victor turned around on his axis, and that's when he saw Yuri in the air, all angry grace, one full turn, two, three, four, hands raising like flags of war declaration, a head held high, and what had him gulping, was that perfect landing.

No one could've done that quadruple Salchow any better.

Yuri skated in a lazy circle before stopping, and as a finale, he performed a mocking bow aimed at his coach before heading toward the exit.

Victor was left standing there, limp in his spot, his frustration and tiredness multiplying in intensity.

He was, indeed, what was causing the mistakes.

Why else did Yuri have his eyes closed the entire time?

Victor walked awkwardly with his skates toward the locker room, feeling the unwelcomed friction of the carpet under him, after all these years, stepping out of the rink and into solid floor was never comfortable, not with the huge contrast they had between them.

Almost like the bubbly world he was used to and this current labyrinth of vexation.

He headed there with determination, not wasting one more second, he was going to give that boy a piece of his fucking mind even if he had to pin him down; this needed to end and to end now.

He just had to apologize, didn't he?

Victor's teeth clinched. But he already fucking did that. Multiple times.

He wanted his piggy back. He wanted his goofy, adorable fanboy back. He wanted his Yuri back and not that constantly spiteful asshole that fed him glares all day.

God, he just wanted to talk to him.

He wanted to hear his voice, the voice that changed its tone whenever he talked to Victor, he wanted to hear his nonsensical words, the words that were always a tad bit more personal when they were aimed to Victor's ears, he wanted to touch him, damn it, feel how his skin gained heat when it came to Victor's constant advances and involuntary skinship.

The locker room, though, was so deserted that it almost matched Victor's emptiness.

Victor wanted to laugh again at his misery, Jesus Christ, the boy must've changed in light speed and took off running, just to avoid him at any cost.

He tried to calm himself down, breathe, slump his shoulders, and lean into something. That, however, managed to work for only a few seconds before Victor's fist flew to the nearest locker, the contact producing a loud BANG, leaving it with an ugly dent.

It hurt. It really fucking hurt.

And it certainly wasn't the pain in his bruised knuckles.

It became one of Yuri's duties to walk through the darkness of the night with bizarre objectives, at three am, mostly to look for his lost coach after hours of mysterious disappearance, which honestly weren't that mysterious, since he knew exactly where to find him, and exactly how he'd be when he found him; it was one of Victor's nasty habits that Yuri didn't entirely appreciate.

He was used to it, to say the least, Victor just had to indulge into questionable nights of drinking until he lost himself, but Yuri was reluctant this time to follow him.

He was pressured to go, even after he tried to convince his family to send someone else to rescue the skating star from ending up in a ditch somewhere, drunk out of his wits, but again, it was Yuri's duty, it was Yuri's problem.

The bright side of it was that he could finally escape the interrogation his family and friends put him through every time he was separated from Victor.

'What's going on between you and him?' they'll start subtly, 'Is there something wrong?' 'Did you two have a fight?' and then they'll go straight to the point, 'Why have you been at each other's throats lately?'

Those questions were always unanswered, in Yuri's case, or diverted slyly when Victor himself was under interrogation.

It's because he didn't have the answers, simple as that.

What happened, happened. No one can change that. And Yuri had tried his hardest to let it go, forget and move forward, not look back, but it was easier said than done.

Every morning he'll stare at his reflection in the mirror and tell himself, 'Act nonchalantly, Yuri, be nice to Victor, come on, we've talked about this!' then every night he'll come home after a disastrous day with his coach, and stare at himself with so much disappointed, mumbling: 'What the fuck, Yuri?'

Day after day, this was his routine; he tried all sorts of ways and methods to separate his personal life from the skating rink, but being near Victor just tossed all his plans out of the window, treating him badly became an unconscious habit that he hated.

That wasn't Yuri, it just wasn't something that he'd imagine himself doing in anyone's presence, let alone Victor Nikiforov; it was a mere fantasy of his to even be in the same room as him.

But he just couldn't act nonchalant; he couldn't avoid acting up on his feelings, and he couldn't treat Victor as if nothing had happened.

It was just way too personal.

He moved the small curtains away from his head and entered Victor's favorite bar, and surprise, surprise, there he was, drunk out his mind, face red and grinning while being surrounded by his fans, unsurprisingly all female.

Yuri, for some reason, stayed put in the entrance, enchanted, as always, by how beautiful the man was, he hasn't seen those smiles and grins in a while, and less so the breathtaking sound of his laughter.

Their absence was Yuri's doing, wasn't it?

Guilt resurfaced, and Yuri felt ashamed of himself all over again. That was his idol, the man he admired most of his life, he was lucky to even be acknowledged, let alone be trained by him. Yuri was the luckiest man in the world, he realized as he recited his now daily mantra, 'Be nice to Victor. Stop this teenage angst. Be a man and get over it!' and walked toward him with his goal set on letting everything go.

That was until he saw Victor, with a smile as wide as his face, holding a girl's chin and whispering things that made her blush to oblivion.

Yuri suddenly found himself standing behind Victor's stool, his dark aura causing all the women to pause what they were doing.

He grabbed Victor by the elbow, pulling harshly and uttering two words with a voice he didn't recognize. "Get up."

The circle fell silent, and judging by the squinty look on Victor's face as he turned, he didn't seem to recognize Yuri either. "And who the hell are yo-"

"Get up." He repeated, pulling even harder until Victor's drowsy brain registered what was happening. "Now."

His coach snatched his arm away forcibly, groaning as he stood up.

To shock no one, Victor immediately lost his balance, and not wanting him one more second between those women, Yuri immediately grabbed him, putting Victor's arm around his shoulder and lifting him up.

He turned them around and navigated his way out of the bar, people still in shock as he held on to Victor's entire body since the bastard couldn't even walk a step alone.

A lot of incoherent words were uttered and Yuri only deciphered one mumble; something about a very not cute and evil Yuri that Victor hated. With that all the ie eugh yew's were I hate you's, he assumed.

As Yuri waited for a taxi, he met his own reflection across the bar's window, and his reverse mantra started replaying. 'What the fuck, Yuri?'

It was the hardest task to not let his default smile turn into blankness, especially with the fact that Victor was blessed with a headache the size of a mountain, knuckles that were burning in pain, and a heart swelling by someone's absence on the breakfast table.

Victor completely overslept and woke up an hour late for Yuri's morning jog, but that didn't give him the privilege to go jog alone, it was strange for him to do that, it was unusual, it was rebellious.

It was a threat.

Yuri might've been trying to get dependent so he could toss away Victor soon, he might even be looking for other coaches for all he knew.

On his fucking dead body. Victor bit his fork way too hard, his teeth hurting against the metal. No one is going to take Yuri away from him.

He was his inspiration, and not someone else's; the whole world should've known that by now.

Yuri's parents were amidst an animated conversation that Victor wasn't paying attention to, or even understanding, until he picked up on tiny bits of what Yuri's father was saying, "-this reminds me, did you hear all the shouting last night?"

"Oh, that," Yuri's mother put a hand on her cheek, Victor was interested, "Apart from shouting, there were some really vulgar words tossed back and forth."

"Ah, I remember."

"How unusual."

"It was very nasty, must've woke the whole village."

"Who knew Yuri and Victor could ever be this furious at each other?"

Victor almost choked on his food, he then realized that he was very gullible, considering that for a moment there, he was concerned that a robbery took place or someone attacked the onsen, he had completely forgotten about his drunken fiasco the night before.

He looked up, meeting two pairs of curious eyes shot his way, waiting for an explanation. He was being cornered the whole time!

Victor chuckled awkwardly, not knowing what to say, he himself didn't remember anything apart from Yuri dragging him out of the bar, but an apology to them was due. "Ah, gomén gomén, about that-"

"I'm home!" Victor was interrupted by a rasped voice, approaching the room they were in. "Good morning."

"Oh, Yuri," his father beamed, "Perfect timing."

"For what?" Yuri was in the process of taking off his shoes, Makkachin sprinting his way and Victor watching him carefully to know what the young man was up to.

He narrowed his eyes, grabbing a bowl and holding it closer to his mouth to continue eating.

"Last night-" his mother paused midsentence, eyes widening when she looked at Victor. "Oh my god, what happened to your hand?"

"What?" Victor's brows furrowed, he checked his right hand to see the pink, swelled skin. It looked as unflattering as he thought. "Oh, that."

"Don't tell me that you had a fight, Victor." Yuri's father said, very confused.

"Oh don't be ridiculous, Vic-chan can't hurt a fly." Was the mother's response.

Victor smiled gracefully. "It was a locker."

Her jaw hanged. "A locker attacked you?"

Yuri's father rubbed his chin. "Strange things happen every day, I guess, even lockers can't be trusted anymore."

Victor laughed at their ridiculous sense of humor.

"I was imagining someone's face on it."

Silence and confused looks engulfed him after that bold statement, and Victor just smiled thinly.

Footsteps neared in, and Yuri flopped down on his place on the table, his clutch on Makkachin looking almost painful. "That someone spent the whole night looking for him before he drank himself to death."

The malice in his voice was apparent, and Victor was shocked, never did he imagine that Yuri would be this daring and subtle.

Victor's smile widened as he returned his harsh words with harsher ones. "That someone didn't have to."

"You know what?" Yuri closed in, his pretty brown pupils darkening and the poodle
whining in pain under him, each word he let out next unsteady and loud. "If you want to spend your nights being a pervert with suspicious women, then have it, Victor!"

Victor slammed his bowl down, shaking the entire table with it, but his smile didn't drop, nor did he allow his voice to rise. "Oh, so now we're doing direct and civilized conversations?"

"I wouldn't call this civilized..." Yuri's mother commented, her husband nodding in agreement.

"Go!" Yuri held his arm at no particular direction, "J-just go! Do whatever the hell you want! I won't even bother caring anymore!"

Victor's heart dropped to the pit of his stomach, his entire face complexion changing into one emotion: pain.

Anyone with a good sight would be able to see how devastated Victor was by his words, it almost sounded like Yuri was kicking him out, almost, which was what he feared the most, but Yuri's verbal abuse didn't stop there.

"You're free, Victor! I'm done with you! G-go! Go tell them sweet words! Go seduce them! Go hug them! Go kiss them-"

"YURI!" his father shouted, "Enough!"

"Yuri." His mother was absolutely horrified at her son's outburst, "Why are you so angry? What's happening to you?"

The young man in question stood up abruptly, embarrassment and anger apparent on his reddened face as he observed all three expressions directed at him, his parents' shocked and disapproving, while Victor's was just completely and utterly blank.

Yuri looked down, clinched his hands, and bolted out of the house in the matter of seconds.

Deadly silence stretched its distance around the room; even Mari was present a few minutes later, demanding to know what the ruckus was about and if it really was her brother who was shouting so uncharacteristicly.

Victor digested all of their worrisome looks, trying to compose himself for as long as possible, until he just couldn't take it anymore and planted his forehead on the table in complete despair.

"Vic-chan, it's OK!" Yuri's mother tried to comfort him, even using the only English word she knew. "OK?!"

Mari sighed, putting a hand on her hip. "He rarely gets angry, that boy." She said, "But when he does, it's almost dangerous."

"That's true," her father added, "But I've never seen him like that before."

Me and you both, Victor thought, and unfortunately, he was the one suffering from Yuri Katsuki's wrath.

If Victor knew one thing about the rink, was that it served as an emotional sanctuary for whoever knew how to use it right.

He knew, he knew quiet too well the meaning of the sounds that were echoing everywhere, even as far as the hallway that Victor was moving through.

It was a language only skaters understood.

Even the sound of the heels of his boots, rapid and vexed, could not outmatch what Yuri was unleashing inside.

The scraping and swishes were a reflection of desperate screams, almost like the ones Victor wanted to let out.

Yuri was skating so emotionally that Victor could hear digging against the ice, as if all matter was being cut by his mournful sensations, all of them concentrated on his skates.

Victor advanced, more sure and willful as ever, soon the rink was in display in front of him, and what he saw almost made him feel guilty.

Nonspecific choreography, unplanned movements, and messy gliding were taking place, but they were more expressive than most of the skits he had seen.

Yuri was biting his lips roughly, eyebrows knitted together, and his arms all over the place. Sweat was coating his visible red skin, but nothing could match the affect of his eyes.

Narrowed, dilated, and dark in color, the glint that they usually possessed had vanished, replacing it with the faint hue of helplessness.

Victor wondered if his own irises ever looked like that, he wondered if Yuri had seen them that way, seen all the self loath, or felt as crushed as he did at the view.

It wasn't Yuri anymore; it was Fury, Fury On Ice.

How fitting, he thought for a second before letting out his own fury too.

"Yuri!" he called him with the highest voice he can muster, the waves traveling through every inch of that empty rink.

The boy flinched, his flow getting disturbed. He glanced at Victor shortly before continuing what he was doing.

Victor stomped his way to the rail, his hands clutching around the glass when he reached it. "Yuri!"

He was ignored, for the young man kept skating round the rink in an aimless circle, his gaze lowering to the ice in reluctance.

Victor's teeth clinched, his grip on the rail so hard that it could shatter at any second, he had forgotten the last time he was this angry, if ever. "Just-" he lost control, whatever calmness he had disappearing from the core, he reached out, and just at the exact moment the skater passed by him, Victor grabbed his arm. "Knock it off!"

He earned a loud gasp from Yuri as he pulled him to his direction, tightening his hold on his bicep. The boy almost fell backwards, but Victor held them both before they crashed.

"What was that back there?!" Half of Victor's torso was suspended in the air, over the glass, but the adrenaline rush knew no limit as he forced him closer. And that little bastard still refused to speak to him, even tried to wiggle free and restore his balance. "Fucking talk to me!"

Yuri didn't, though, his stubbornness reaching a whole new level but Victor had lost any shred of patience left to tolerate him. He groaned, roughly tugging the boy until he was close enough to wrap his other hand around his side.

Victor's feet found the floor again, and as forcibly as he can, he lifted Yuri up, growling, his small body slid past the top of the rail until Victor had fully pulled him over to the other side of the rink, Yuri squealing the whole time.

Victor pushed him against the nearest poll without consideration. If Yuri's anger was dangerous, then he needed to know that his anger was lethal.

"You want me to go?" Victor slammed his hand on the body of the poll above Yuri's head, his voice was so low, but nonetheless threatening, as he hoped, and not as hurt as he felt repeating each of those words. "You are done with me?"

Fuck his whole existence, Yuri still didn't talk, his eyes looking at everything but his coach, his cheeks rosy, his lips tightly pressed together.

"Say something!" Victor demanded desperately as he grabbed his chin, bending his head upward, but their eyes still couldn't meet for the life of him. "Yuri."

The only response he received was a harsh slap.

Yuri didn't slap him in the face, although it felt a hell a lot like it, but the young man removed his coach's hand from his chin like it was poison.

"Oh." Uttered Victor soullessly, his heart breaking into pieces, his body becoming numbed. "It's... fine... it's fine... it's-" It wasn't fine.

His whole world was falling apart, and he couldn't do a damn thing about it.

He wanted to know why, he wanted to demand answers, but Victor couldn't handle the pain anymore, let alone look at that man in front of him for one more second.

He had gone back to the world of void that he resented with passion, the empty universe that he was sucked into before Yuri came into his life, the space of repetition and hollowness, in just mere seconds.

His inspiration was gone, his hope was gone, his soul was gone.

And he couldn't do a damn thing about it.

"I guess this is it, then." Victor swallowed, both the bile in his throat, and his entire pride as he turned, started walking away from him, and voiced the one word he hated the most in the world. "Goodbye, Yuri."

His blue eyes were still wide as he moved closer to the exit, his spirit still not accepting what just happened, his body and mind consumed with disbelief.

Say something. He was almost there, but he, Victor Nikiforov, pathetically, was still begging, begging for one more chance from the man that managed to color his life. Say something.

But he didn't.

He just didn't.

The saturated colors were fading, the lines were being erased, and the drawing that he had outlined for more than half a year was turning into that dull, empty piece of canvas again, repetitive, pointless, and grim.

Victor paused, turning to the sound of skates pounding on the carpeted floor behind him.

"Wh-where do you think you're going?!"

He saw Yuri, with his teeth bared and on an offense stance as he charged towards him, unlike yesterday, Victor knew that he was the target this time.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Yuri was already too close to him.

He pushed Victor with all his might, "You think this is a joke, isn't it?!"

"Yuri-"

"Shut up!" he pushed him again, hands firmly pressing on his chest and moving him backwards each time. "Just shut up!"

Victor was speechless, "Hey, Yuri! Stop it!"

"You-" his hands fisted the front of Victor's sweater, his voice breaking. "You KISSED me!"

And that's when Victor's memory went on rewind, back to two weeks ago, to the night that triggered everything, the night that haunted his every passing minute after it.

He didn't know what to exactly feel; Yuri had the tendency to ignore his coach's instructions whenever pressure was involved, often for nonexistent reasons.

He wanted to be mad, he wanted to continue scolding him all night, but he simply couldn't.

The reason that he wanted to hold on to this beautiful young man, was his ability to surprise him every time he stepped inside of the rink.

He had won fairly, went beyond everyone's expectations, and performed a masterpiece, a rebellious performance, surely, but still a masterpiece.

He was happy, Victor had realized, he was happier than he ever was for the past few years.

And he was becoming addicted to that feeling; he was becoming addicted to that wonderful being that was Yuri Katsuki.

He didn't know how to express his feelings without scaring him away, in all honesty, he had thought that he had himself under control, but when they were out of the public's eyes after the fireworks that erupted at the ending of Yuri's performance, holding back was becoming harder.

Victor found himself, as he attended to the bleeding of his nose, mesmerized. Yuri was still under the high, the high of taking skating to the extreme, and Victor simply couldn't look away.

Ah, how his hair was brushed back, making him times more attractive, especially with those few strands that escaped to shape his forehead in a perfect mess.

His cheeks and nose, flushed crimson from the cold and exercise, highlighting his face, made him look nearly too angelic.

Yuri's mouth was moving, but Victor couldn't hear a thing, the glint in his eyes as he talked was all he could see and appreciate, but when his gaze landed on his lips, self control instantly vanished.

He grabbed the back of his head, successfully shutting him up and pulling Yuri to him as if he couldn't command his body anymore, he just had to do it or he won't ever feel satisfied with himself.

Their noses brushed, and a moment later, Victor was tasting the lip gloss that he had applied earlier, appreciating his choice because it was simply too fucking delicious, yet, he doubted that the product had anything to do with that incredible sensation.

That's when he realize that he had gone way over himself, and was kissing Yuri with an intimacy he never thought he had.

A hand was planted on his chest, and suddenly they parted, Victor looked down, seeing that Yuri had pushed him away, when he met his eyes again, the flush had intensified, and Yuri was trembling, panting from fear and confusion.

Oh, Victor realized then, he messed up, didn't he?

"Wh-wh-what are you doing?" Yuri had asked nervously, and Victor just didn't have an answer.

He wanted to make the boy comfortable again, even if it was on the expense his own feelings, even if he had to oppress how strongly he wanted Yuri at that moment.

He wanted him so badly sometimes it hurt.

Although the ominous, entirely new feeling of rejection stroke him head on, he had apologized, almost immediately, gathering all the cool he can muster, despite how hurt he was.

To hell with him and his needs, Victor decided, he didn't want to scare Yuri away.

"Oh, I'm sorry." He had laughed, "I didn't mean to. I do that when I get too excited."

And that, that was the moment everything had been ruined.

Yuri had looked at him like Victor broke every single bone in his body before running out of the room without saying a single word.

And nothing seemed to repair the damage since then.

"Answer me!" Yuri brought him back to the present, pushing him again. "For once ever since we met, did you ever take anything about me seriously?!"

Victor put a hand on his forehead, already exhausted by everything thrown his way. "Now, what are you talking about? Of course I did."

"No!" Yuri pushed him one more time, and Victor was getting frustrated. "You didn't! If you did, you wouldn't have kissed me like that!"

"As far as I remember," Victor spat, his anger resurfacing. "I apologized. What else do you want?!"

"You think an apology can fix everything?!" Yuri countered, "You think it'll make all the pain disappear?!"

"Pain?!" Victor said, incredulous. "I was the one in pain! You pushed me away! You think it didn't hurt?!"

"P-pushed you away?" Yuri's eyes widened, his brows forming a frown a second later. "What did you expect me to do?!"

"Not give up on me!" Victor answered immediately, "I do stupid shit sometimes, I know that, but I couldn't help myself! I apologized! I forgot about it! But you started hating me for it! You wanted to toss me away just a few minutes ago-"

"Wh-what?" Yuri started shaking, from anger, fear, or anxiety, Victor honestly couldn't tell. "I would never- How dare you say that?! How dare you make those assumptions?!"

"How else would you explain the way you've been acting with me lately, huh?!"

"You idiot!" this time, Yuri pushed him so hard that Victor almost stumbled against the wall. "How can you make everything revolve around you?!"

"So you're the victim?!"

"You just... have no idea..." his lips trembled, his eyes turning glassy with unshed tears. Yuri's chest was heaving, up and down, his frame looking tinier and tinier the more he let out. "No idea how much I love you!"

Victor heard a beep, a painful screeching in his ears, his entire world narrowing into Yuri, and Yuri alone.

There were so many things that weren't said between them, because they simply didn't need to be said, he thought Yuri was well aware of that. "I know, Yuri."

"No you don't!" he yelled, shaking his head furiously, "I have admired you ever since I could remember! I have loved you ever since I knew what love was!"

So now it's a competition? Victor glared at him.

"I won't argue about how long, Yuri, but why are you so sure that it isn't mutual?" he said, his own tone bitter in its own way. He was absolutely certain that it was obvious, yet, how come? "Why do you think so lowly of me?"

"You kissed me like it was nothing!" Yuri snapped, finally becoming undone. "You kissed me like it was something casual, something normal you do with anyone else. You kissed me like it was a damn joke, and you even said so! And suddenly you're hurt?!"

And that, was the final straw.

"Fucking bastard." He whispered menacingly, Yuri shivering at his tone before Victor grabbed his collar, whirled him around, and slammed him against the wall as roughly as he can.

Yuri's hands were flying to push Victor again. "What are you-"

God, just shut up. He grabbed his wrists, pinning them on each side of his head, anger fueling every move he made as Yuri squirmed under him and tried to release himself, but Victor was quick to stop him, pressing his lips against Yuri's, hard.

The boy tried to shake his head and avoid his approach, but Victor wasn't going to let him this time. His hold tightened around his wrists, bringing them higher, securing him with all his strength til their lips were completely locked together, and so his mouth started moving, every movement aligned with a beastly rhythm.

Victor made sure to be so brutal that even if Yuri wasn't doing it consciously, his lips were still moving and shaping every attack they received, in perfect sync.

The little idiot had this ridiculous idea that Victor went around kissing people just for the hell of it.

Fuck, that pissed him off.

He was going to kiss him until their mouths tasted the same; he was going to kiss him until he couldn't feel his fucking face anymore. He was going to show him what a ravishing kiss was like, the kiss that would leave him dazed, completely messed up, and unable to even stand anymore, a kiss that he would never dare forget.

He was going to make him regret ever accusing Victor of joking.

He was going to show him how merciless he can be.

He was going to suck him dry.

He was going to kiss Yuri Katsuki senseless, then ask him what 2+2 is, just for him to say Victor's name as an answer.

After all, he was just asking for it.

Ever the reckless one, Yuri opened his mouth to voice some complaint, which was immediately swallowed by Victor with no mercy, the vibration echoing inside his mouth, providing mere pleasure for the latter.

He was coming out so strong that Victor was sure the back of Yuri's head was aching from the wall behind him, but he didn't care, he had to show him, he had to make him understand.

Vibrations kept on coming and for some sadistic reason, Victor just went on, rougher by each second until he felt them turning softer. He thought that through all the haze, he was imagining Yuri's lips acting on their own accord, almost, almost with the same strength as his.

Victor thought he was imagining that beautiful sound that escaped from their mouths, resembling a moan. And the way Yuri's back was arching forward, his chest almost plastering against him? Definitely an imagination.

That was until he could literally feel the boy's heartbeat through their clothes, that Victor realized what was going on.

In a moment of shock and satisfaction, Victor's grip on Yuri's wrists loosened, lowering to his sides, putting pressure on each part of him until he reached the small of his back, bringing their bodies tighter against each other.

And to his utter surprise, Yuri's hands flew to his head, his fingers running through Victor's silver strands until he was fisting his hair in need.

God, he thought he could die right then and there.

Nothing, nothing in this whole fascinated him more than Yuri's Eros, and the fact that little fragments of that character was appearing, was more than just turning him on.

Victor slid his hands under those muscular thighs, appreciating the tights Yuri was wearing, hugging his legs and leaving no barrier to his touch as he lifted them up to his own hips. The metal of the skates scratched Victor's legs, undoubtedly leaving bruises.

Yuri's lower lip was caught between his teeth, and Victor couldn't just not bite it as sharply as he can.

Eros gasped loudly, and Victor loved that sound, especially with how the pleasure was lacing every bit of it. Yuri quickly wrapped his legs around Victor's torso, all reluctance gone.

Victor slipped his tongue inside that mouth, feeling a metallic taste of blood from the bite. Excitement coursed inside of him at how Yuri was rolling his own tongue with his even more hungrily.

He inhaled Yuri's sighs, swallowed his moans, and groaned at the boy's sudden movement against him.

It was so much.

It was so much that Victor's erection was getting too hard.

It was getting way worse because Yuri's eagerness was rubbing against his stomach, and he was grinding harder on Victor with each passing moment, god knew what it was doing to him.

Their lips finally parted, their tongues enjoying one last twirl before they were apart, each of them breathing a gallon of air to recover from what just happened.

Victor opened his eyes and fuck, he wished he hadn't.

Yuri was staring at him dead in the eye, no more resentment, no more anger, no more shame even. His tongue was still out, demanding more. Saliva was running down his jaw, his pupils so dilated that Victor couldn't see the brown in them anymore. His lips were crimson from the smudged blood and he was red, red all over like a disheveled rose; beautiful, attractive, and filled with thorns that were wounding him.

Yet Victor desperately wanted to pluck him out and make him his own.

With half shut eyes, he neared in again, sucking every bit of fluid around Yuri's mouth and leaving butterfly kisses down his jaw, hoping that Yuri now had more confidence in the legitimacy of Victor's feelings toward him. "Was that what you wanted, hm?"

"Victor..." He thought his heart would burst when he heard Yuri use that voice, accompanied with breathless huffs. "Have you... Have you ever kissed someone like this before?"

He thought he couldn't even speak anymore, both his Russian and English vocabulary almost disappearing. He ended up using the most negative Japanese word he knew. "Chigau."

"Good." Yuri then trailed his hand down the back of his head sensually until he was cupping Victor's nape. He adjusted himself, his legs tightening around his victim, his hips beginning to grind on him again. "Keep your eyes only on me, and I'll be more than enough."

How he did not cum at the spot, Victor had no idea.

He just knew that Yuri wasn't himself anymore, but rather, Eros had taken over completely. Victor looked at the two ends of the hallway, making sure no one else was present.

He couldn't begin to count the things he wanted to do with him.

"Yuri, listen-" was his final attempt to control the situation, more so himself, because this boy still didn't understand what he was getting himself into. Victor, however, could not manage one more word because his mouth were already shut, by a pair of surprisingly skillful lips, soft, swollen from the earlier vigorous makeout, yet so goddamn eager.

He sighed, giving in completely and enjoying the passion Yuri was initiating. Victor's hands reached out to grab his ass, pulling him closer.

Victor bent his knees slowly, Yuri's head tilting to the side to deepen the masterpiece he was performing with his mouth. They lowered to the floor until Victor was sitting, his feet stretched out, and Yuri on his lap, completely straddling him with no hesitation.

"Way better." He told Victor between kisses, not a shred of innocence shown.

This was dangerous, Victor realized during his buildup to sheer bliss, god forbid someone but him saw Yuri like this.

He clumsily unzipped the tight jacket Yuri was wearing, careful not to expose too much of him to the cold, the younger man, on the other hand, found the hem of Victor's sweater and pulled it all the way up, breaking the kiss to slide it off of his silver head and toss it aside.

Victor ran his hands gently from Yuri's stomach, to his chest, then to the side of his shoulders, loosening the opened jacket so he could see enough of his petite, athletic body, all under his mercy now.

Yuri shivered against his cold hands, moaning as he skewed his head upward, almost inviting Victor to eat him up.

His obliged, planting his mouth on his neck, licking everything in sight and sucking on the tender skin way harder than he planned to, but goddamnit, Victor couldn't stop himself anymore, not with Yuri's delicious scent engulfing his nose.

Yuri's hands wrapped around Victor's bare shoulder blades, drawing him closer. Between small shifts, he had already detected dark red spots on the places his mouth had worked on, the boy's skin was so pale and easy to mark, which was something Victor already found himself loving.

He felt a hand trailing his chest, then further down, until Yuri was shamelessly rubbing the front of Victor's jeans, his erection pulsing painfully with every touch.

Alright, fuck. Victor's teeth dug on the crook of Yuri's neck, receiving a gasp, followed by a whine from his precious. He was loving this, Victor could tell, yet he didn't know which one of them did more.

He pulled down Yuri's tights, trailing the rim of his boxers until he found his needy length, he was surprised to notice that Yuri was on the process of doing the same with Victor's.

He moaned when Yuri's hand wrapped around his throbbing erection, sending another shiver down the boy's spine as he breathed roughly against his neck. He began slowly moving up and down, and the man thought he would soon lose it.

Victor was happy to give what he was receiving, faster, harder, because Yuri just deserved more. When he looked up, he caught the boy's heavy lidded eyes aiming elsewhere.

Victor softened his gaze; the blush and lip biting, an attempt to prevent too much noise, were evidence that he was starting to get embarrassed, and Victor was loving it; this, this was his Yuri, the beautiful young man he fell in love with before he knew it.

"Look at you, Yuri." Victor whispered, finally seeing that flustered look he missed so much, he couldn't resist kissing him again, just for that.

He picked up speed, thumping Yuri's member as masterfully as he can, his mouth was now filled with sounds that Yuri was emitting into him, and god, it felt so good.

Yuri was keeping up, but soon it wasn't enough, their kisses turned sloppy, their thumping messy, their bodies needier and needier.

They rubbed their lengths against each other, hands all over the place, kisses planted everywhere, moans loudening, and incoherent shouts erupting in need and pleasure.

The desperate yell of his name, followed by a plea of 'I love you' was enough to send Victor flying, high into the purest form of ecstasy.

Yuri wasn't just his inspiration, Victor finally realized amidst the madness, he was his happiness.

He sensed some very predatory vibes around him that couldn't go undetected, accompanied with silent rustling, surely meaning no good.

"Come here." Yuri heard a seductive voice behind him, and the next thing he knew, his back was attached to Victor's partly naked chest.

He gulped, trying to understand how goddamn fast Victor took the liberty to raid his room.

"Oh, Yuri," he cooed, nuzzling his neck. "You smell so nice after bathing."

He sighed, knowing all too well that Victor's old behavior was back; he possibly became even touchier than before.

Victor's hand slipped under his shirt.

Not possibly, definitely.

"Victor," Yuri cocked his head to the side, trying to get away from his distracting mouth. "Could you calm down for a second?"

"No can do." He grabbed Yuri's chin, forcing him to face him. What Yuri saw wasn't, in any way, pleasant, because that utterly fake smile Victor had on his face was almost as scary as his expression when he pulled his entire body over the rail in rage. Yuri shivered remembering that. "I'm going to stick by you like glue from now and on; we don't want you having weird thoughts again, like 'Victor doesn't love me' and 'Victor is playing me' now, do we? Hm? Remember that? Hm?"

That was a few hours ago, Yuri thought miserably, of course he remembered.

"Hey Victor," Yuri folded his hands together, doses of gloominess and guilt emerging again. His voice was faint as he spoke one, very prolonged sentence . "I'm really sorry, for everything."

"I know." Victor hugged him tightly. "Me too."

"I'm sorry for treating you badly," he looked at Victor's arms around him, his fingers reaching out to stroke his injured hand in remorse. "I don't know what was going on with me."

"I'm sorry for kissing you all of a sudden and saying I didn't mean it." Victor said softly against his shoulder. "I thought I was going to scare you away."

"I'm sorry for pushing you away when you did that," Yuri added. "I was just shocked."

"I'm sorry for not clarifying."

"I'm sorry I embarrassed you in front of your fans."

"I'm sorry I was getting touchy with that woman, but to be fair, she kinda looked like you."

What the fuck? "I'm sorry I shouted at you."

"I'm sorry I took you out of the rink so forcibly."

"I'm sorry I pushed you so many times."

"I'm sorry I gave you all of those hickeys."

"No you're not."

"True, true."

And they were laughing in glee again, like nothing ever happened.

It felt so surreal that Yuri was wishing it was not a dream.

"Yuri..." Victor hummed into the shell of his ear, pulling him even closer, "I can't get enough of you."

"O-okay." He honestly didn't know how to respond to that.

This was one eventful day, to be sure.

Yuri then released his hands and took off his glasses, resting them on the nightstand.

"What is that?" Victor tilted his chin toward the notebook he left there, freshly written on with bold Japanese letters.

"Oh." Yuri ripped off the page and brought it closer so Victor can examine it. "It's my theme for the competition."

He squinted at the foreign characters, obviously unable to understand any of it.

"Love." Yuri smiled shyly, "I decided that it would be about my love for you."

Victor stayed silent for a few moments, digesting what he just heard.

Within a millisecond, Yuri found himself pinned on the bed, Victor on top of him with a glint in his eyes. He saw some wet silvery strands moving in his vision before Victor started showering him with kisses, not one part of Yuri's face remaining intact.

He finally settled on his lips, and stayed there.

Unlike the emotional kisses they shared before, this one was sweet, calm, and full of appreciation, and Yuri honestly couldn't decide which one he liked more.

They drew back and remained breathless, looking at one another with matching smiles, admiring each other's beauty.

They stared and stared until Yuri couldn't handle the embarrassment anymore. "You should probably go to sleep."

"Alright." Victor smiled lovingly, and Yuri was surprised with how fast he gave up.

Until he noticed that Victor was adjusting his pillows.

Yuri sighed. "I mean in your room."

"Why would I do that?" Victor seemed absolutely puzzled, "I'm sleeping with you from hereafter, we're going to get domestic as fuck."

"No, we're not."

"Why?"

"It's way too inappropriate!" Yuri snapped, "And besides, my bed is too small."

"My bed can fit both of us just fine." Victor winked.

"Get up."

"No."

"We have training early in the morning!"

"No we don't."

"Uhm, yes we do."

"I'm your coach and I decide that we don't."

"Get up, Victor."

"Yuri, my sweet, sweet Yuri," Victor zeroed in again, his eyes getting dangerously mischievous, their mouths inches apart. "I have to sleep together with you, because we need to get you ready."

Yuri frowned. "What are you implying?"

"You know what I'm implying."

"No, I don't!"

"Listen," Victor looked away, carefully planning his next words. "You know how this goes; we need to stretch you out. We can't live on handjobs and mouths forever-"

SLAM!

"Yuri!" Victor grinned, wide, talking to Yuri's door after he was unkindly kicked out. "Come on, you know I was joking!"

"G-Goodnight!" was Yuri's annoyed answer.

Victor brought a hand to his forehead, a heated blush making its way to his cheeks.

God, he was so adorable.