Chapter 1
The slowly fading light of the setting sun threaded its way through the glass windows, mixing with the harsh lights hanging in the rafters far up in the ceiling. The softly glowing beams shone on the ice, causing the freshly smoothed surface to glow. The silver blades of Yuri Katsuki's skates cut shallow grooves of frost as the world-famous figure skater glided across the rink, as graceful as if he was just another dancing beam of light himself.
He paused in the center of the ice, letting out his held breath in a cloud of fog that resembled the mist that hung over the mountains of his hometown, Hasetsu every morning. His dark brown eyes darted left and right as he mentally mapped out the route he would take across the ice.
Yuri slowly moved to the starting point of his program. Then he was off, gracefully making his way through his carefully choreographed program that he and his coach and fiancé, Viktor Nikiforov, has spent countless hours creating, polishing and tweaking, until it was absolute perfection. All there was left to do was to perform it to the same level as it had been planned.
Yuri was lost in the infinitely dazzling melody of twists and spirals, in the leaps carrying him far into the air. He let himself be carried away until he no longer noticed the ice crystals being kicked up by his skates, fracturing the light into a million glittering colours that fell through the air. He was still conscious of his movements, but he hardly needed to dwell on them. To him, skating was simpler than walking.
He leapt into the glacial air once more, spinning, landing on one foot. And that was when disaster struck.
An unforgiving dagger of red-hot pain sliced through Yuri's leg as his left foot twisted to the side in an unnatural direction. He went crashing down onto the ice that had seemed so natural under his skates just mere seconds ago, but now it held nothing for him as his entire consciousness was devoured by agony.
Yuri's vision was blurred and hazy. He couldn't speak. He barely managed to comprehend the sound of a distant shout, someone calling his name. Yuri's brain managed to form a single competent thought before he blacked out.
Viktor.
Six Months Later
Yuri couldn't remember much of what happened that day.
He remembered waking up in the hospital, deep under the haze of anaesthetic.
He remembered a distraught Viktor, who had sprinted to the hospital the moment he had heard what happened.
Most of all, he remembered the feeling he had gotten when he saw his left leg, completely hidden by the cast that it was in. And then, the despair he felt when he heard the doctor's words, spoken to Viktor.
...skates broke, the blade fell off somehow.
...severely sprained, torn muscle.
...six months of rehabilitation.
Yuri won't be able to skate until it's fully healed.
He still had nightmares about it. Nothing had ever happened in his train wreck of a career compared to this.
Yuri dragged himself out of his thoughts, bringing the hospital waiting room into focus. Today he was finally being released. He stood in line waiting to fill out the release documents. After a full six months of rehabilitation, he was finally able to stand on his own. Mind you, standing was the least of his worries.
After signing the forms, Yuri thanked the secretary and walked out of what he had begun to think of as a prison as fast as he possibly could.
The automatic doors slid open before him, letting a gust of fresh air flood Yuri's senses. Viktor was waiting for him outside. When he saw Yuri, he looked at him as if it had been years since they'd seen each other, when in reality it had only been a day. Yuri practically leapt into Viktor's arms. Both of them were flooded with pure relief at seeing each other.
Yuri pulled out of the embrace to look at Viktor. Just so he could see him. Just to look into his beautiful eyes, just so he could see his face without the depressing backdrop of the bland hospital walls, and without choking on the sterile air surrounding them.
It's alright now. Viktor's here. It's all going to be okay.
Yuri was struggling to keep tears from flowing out of his eyes. Viktor clearly was as well.
Finally, Viktor spoke.
"Let's go home."
