Ryuugazaki: Okay so I'm rewriting this fic because the perfectionist and completest in me is actually dying to rewrite the fic so I'm gonna do that. Nothing major about the fanfic is going to change. It's just that I've been making this up as I go along and very little things about the fic was actually planned out and now that I have mostly everything about the first section of the fic completed, I can go back and rewrite it and clean it up because this fanfic is messy.

Oh so messy.

Also, I'm working on the accompanying playlist for the first and second sections of the fic and that's really draining so I'm just trying to make this easy on me.

So yeah, some minor changes in narration and detail are going to occur. If you're reading the companion fic that Haru is (not laboriously) working on, there's going to be quite a few differences so I'm going to have to make them rewrite it because I'm rewriting this and I want things to be as on point as possible. Everything has to be perfect. I will not accept any less.

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, USA)

It was the first day of the new semester for Yuuri Katsuki. The figure skating season had begun in July and Yuuri was wholeheartedly dedicated to throwing themself into their studies and into their career as a professional figure skater. Their first class of the day was art history. The instructor of the class, Laura Heiner, was running late. Yuuri's fellow classmates were slowly filling the room. Yuuri, wanting to make a good impression on their professor, wanted to be early to class. And they were there, too. Phichit Chulanont, a fellow figure skater and their roommate, best friend, and platonic life partner was also taking art history this semester; Phichit, however, was taking art history on Thursdays because the Wednesday class was full and they had registered late. Yuuri was sitting to the extreme right of the classroom while most of their classmates were sitting to the left of them. Yuuri was doodling in their sketchbook, trying to draw the octopi from The Dream of the Fisherman's Wife. Whenever the door opened, Yuuri's eyes shot towards the door. They really wanted their 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 high ponytail. His long lashes partially obscured his sparkling turquoise eyes. He was wearing black jeans, a dark blue, striped cardigan, and Air Force Ones. He sat right next to Yuuri, placing his messenger back 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. Yuuri was gaping at him.

"Yes?" The silver-haired man asked as he looked at Yuuri. "May I help you?"

"No, I'm sorry," Yuuri murmured. "You just have very long hair." The man smiled. "It's nice." The man smiled harder. Yuuri decided to stop gaping at him and continued on with drawing the octopi.

It was 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 how the police were doing an investigation in her area of Detroit 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 the girl near the door a syllabus for the class and told her to pass it around. The girl did as she was asked. Yuuri 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. Yuuri didn't exactly tune their professor out, but they weren't necessarily paying attention, either. They took a break from drawing the octopi and looked up. Their professor was still talking. Then they looked to their left. Some students were on their phones. Then they looked at the silver-haired man. The silver-haired man was spaced out a bit, looking at something in Yuuri's direction – or out of the window. Yuuri quickly turned the page of their syllabus along with their class. They looked at the syllabus dubiously; it had to be longer than six pages.

"Next, I will be passing out samples of the types of essays I want to receive in this class," Professor Heiner said. She gave the same girl a stack of papers for her to pass around. Like before, Yuuri and the silver-haired man 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. Yuuri desperately wanted and preferred to be in an Asian art class – a place where they would truly shine – but the university didn't offer the type of art history classes Yuuri would be interested in. They loved Asian art because of their dearest elder sister, Mari. She would take them to the Fukuoka Art Museum and Yuuri loved being in that museum with the only sibling he's ever known.

Yuuri outlined the octopi in pen, deeming themselves to be done with the octopi. Maybe later they could get around to drawing the ama.

"Now, this is a three-hour class that meets once a week," Professor Heiner said. Yuuri 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 unexcused absences or else you will fail the class. I do not offer make-up classes or extra credit assignments." She walked to the other side of the room. "You will have to go to a museum once a week, pick a piece, and analyze and describe it. I will not accept any pictures of your chosen artwork."

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

Yuuri tentatively opened up the paper and read it. It had a series of large scribbles on it. They squinted and gave up. They weren't trying to read that right now. Maybe later. But not right now.

#

(Wednesday, 9 September 2015 – 8:00pm, Detroit, Michigan, USA)

Yuuri was skating in the ice rink at the Dearborn Gym. They couldn't focus on their coursework; they were very lost in their thoughts tonight. Earlier, the Madonna of Hasetsu Castle, Yuko, had told Yuuri that she was going to marry their childhood friend, Takeshi. Despite being very in much in like with Yuko as a self-conscious adolescent, the only thing that bothered them was the fact that they wouldn't be able to go to the wedding. Whatever feelings Yuuri might've had for Yuko – for anyone they found themselves pining for – had been, quite literally, ground into the ice.

But Yuuri wasn't thinking about any of that tonight. They were thinking about that handsome man who sat next to them in class. Yuuri was thinking about how they looked like Victor Nikiforov. They also spent a good while in the library after class trying to understand what that man wrote on the paper he tore out of his notebook. It looked like scribbles to Yuuri, but they were certain that it meant something. You don't tear out a page from your notebook with writing on it and give it to someone for no reason. Yuuri was certain that they saw him writing in Russian. "Maybe it's Russian," Yuuri thought.

They stopped skating and breathed. While Phichit was away at events, Yuuri thought to start working on their Salchows. Coach Cialdini had told Yuuri not to practice their Salchows just yet, but Yuuri was an overachiever, a perfectionist, and a hair-splitter – just like their abusive grandfather. They had big dreams and one of them was to surpass Victor Nikiforov. Yuuri thought about doing that often, but – without jumps – they just couldn't see it happening.

But, right now, Yuuri felt a pair of eyes on them. They started to glide around the perimeter, trying to see if anyone was in the rink with them, but they saw no one. The thought of someone observing them as they practiced make anxiety congregate in their stomach. It was dark and only the moonlight illuminated certain areas of the rink. They stopped moving and looked towards the door. The door wasn't illuminated by the moonlight and they didn't have their glasses on so all they saw were large, ghoulish shadows. They took a few hesitant steps forward. They wanted to believe they were just seeing things – that would've been preferable to a person observing them while they were unaware. They were, for the most part, used to seeing things.

"Should I continue?" Yuuri tentatively asked. No one answered. "I'm going to leave now." Yuuri looked around the gym; they couldn't make out any human figures. All they could see were the large shadowy figures and the gentle shadows the objects of the gym made in the moonlight. The shadows Yuuri saw were never aggressive. They were, at best, an annoyance; at worst, they were horrifying and debilitating. Yuuri skated to the edge of the rink and started to take off their skates. They sat on the floor and changed into their Timbs. Luckily for Yuuri, it was a warm summer night and they didn't have to worry about freezing to death once they stepped outside. The shadows stayed behind and Yuuri walked back to the apartment they shared.

Phichit and Yuuri met at the end of Yuuri's second freshman year – as college goes by the number of credits you have and not by how long you've been there. Yuuri had loved the way Phichit was enthusiastic about everything and their extroverted nature; Phichit had loved and admired Yuuri's "inner calmness." When Phichit told Yuuri that, they didn't understand what he meant by "inner calmness" but they took it as a compliment. After that day, Phichit had made the decision that they should be roommates and Yuuri had no quarrel with that. They were looking to escape from the nightmare that was dorming. Yuuri honestly liked Phichit's calming presence and they wouldn't dream of anything changing between them.

After a brisk walk, Yuuri made it back to the apartment. Phichit told Yuuri that he was making pad Thai for dinner tonight. "Hey lapinou," Phichit said. "How was your first day?" Yuuri held up their hand and went into the room they shared to drop off their equipment. Then they came back into the kitchen. "So?"

"It was okay, I guess," Yuuri said. "My art history class is dull and my calculus class gives me a headache."

"Did you make any friends?" Phichit asked. Yuuri chuckled. "Yes? No? I don't know how to interpret your laughter."

"I interacted with one person today. Did I do good?" Phichit chuckled. Yuuri leaped onto the counter and sat down. "What about you? How was your day?" Phichit started talking about his day and the jokes he made with his classmates about the subject matter. Phichit kept talking and talking and then he stopped once he exhausted the list of things he did today.

"What about that one person you talked to, Yuuri?" Yuuri looked at him. "What did you say to the person?"

"I just told him that his hair is nice," Yuuri said. Phichit nodded, hoping for more. "That's it, really." Yuuri leaned their head back and let the back of their head touch the cabinet door. "Oh, and then he wrote something on a piece of paper and gave it to me. I have no clue what it says, though." Phichit shrugged.

"And how was practice?"

"It was fine until I started seeing the shadows," Yuuri said. Phichit moved the pad Thai from the eye of the stove to look at Yuuri. "I was skating and then I saw shadows and felt eyes on me. Then I left."

"Would you rather we discuss that now or later?"

"Whichever," Yuuri said.

"Okay, so now, then," Phichit said. Yuuri nodded. "Are you paying attention?" Yuuri nodded. "Tell Ciao Ciao about them. And tell Luzia and Noêmia, too."

"But I'm fine," Yuuri whined.

"Evidently not if you're hallucinating," Phichit said.

"The shadows don't even do anything to me," Yuuri said. "They just observe. No more. No less."

"And what if they decide to not just observe anymore?"

"That's not how visual hallucinations work, but okay," Yuuri said. Phichit sighed. "But fine. I guess I can tell Ciao Ciao or whatever."

"Good," Phichit said. He returned the majority of his attention to the pad Thai. "Do you want to take a shower?"

"Is the tub wet?" Yuuri asked.

"No," Phichit said. Yuuri leaped off of the counter and went into the bathroom. They could use a nice, hot, steamy shower to get their mind off of the day and the shadows and that man from their art history class.

Ryuugazaki: Surprise! You didn't have to wait at all!