The world had many different lenses they saw him in. To his fans, he was the Russian fairy gliding on the ice as if he was some otherworldly figure. To his mentors who trained him to overcome any challenges the professional world had to offer, he was the ice tiger of Russia that would not hesitate to bear his fangs and claws if necessary.

To the person he found himself bonding with as of late, he was a soldier who knew what he wanted when he wanted.

With these many different yet flattering images, one might think he was the epitome of a perfect human being. But, behind the scenes, it sends him in a spiral of confusion within himself.

As he neared the end of his teenage years, Yuri found himself lost in thought more often than not. Whether he was skating mindlessly in circles on the St. Petersburg rink or rubbing Potya's fur long after she fell asleep, He never knew what exactly brought on these thoughts or why they occurred more and more and this unsettled him.

His thoughts included what his career would become now that he was a world champion ice skater before hitting the age of twenty. Obviously he would continue his training and competing to beat Victor's five-time world record but what happens after that? Who will Yuri be if he isn't the snarky punk skater turning the skating world on its head?

From here, Yuri would wonder who he truly was. No one could deny that he had the shortest fuse out of anyone he'd ever met. In spite of that, Yuri had a soft side to him that showed whenever his friends (a word he used so rarely some didn't know if it was in his vocabulary) were in need. He would give pep talks (or lectures) to Yuuri when his anxiety was getting the better of him. He took every opportunity he could to visit his grandfather. He took time to give back to Yakov and Lilia by helping around their home and cooking meals his grandfather taught him. He was even less rude to Mila whenever her latest romantic venture wasn't so successful.

These things would identify him as a good person, but his bitter attitude always made him reevaluate that. Whenever he brought it up with his rinkmates, they would coo at him and tease him about growing up. They were in his position too, weren't they? They would tell him that he'll figure it out eventually but with every instance he snapped himself out of self-critical thoughts, he wondered how long that would take.

When his Russian companions weren't as useful as he hoped, he always had Otabek. The two had been close friends that periodically visited each other at their home rinks at least once per season. Otabek had this cool air around him that allowed Yuri to open up without restraint. His Kazakh friend was always very understanding and gave him advice when he needed it.

"I'm just like wondering how people see me is different from how I really am, you know?"

Yuri spun a straw through his latte slowly, watching the coffee swirl against the styrofoam. Him and Otabek had come to a cafe they frequented whenever Otabek came to St. Petersburg. It was still off season, so neither were as strict about their diets as they should have been. As a plus, the cafe was quiet and the coffee was good, making it a perfect atmosphere for catching up and spending time together.

"How do you think people see you?" Otabek asked before sipping his drink. His eyes were locked on Yuri even though his green pearls were staring downward.

"That crazy fanclub think I'm like a kitten they want to pet. It gets weirder the older I get," Yuri shuttered. "But, I'm not cute. I'm almost in my twenties for fuck's sake."

"There's a lot of cute people in their twenties."

"Ha ha, very funny. Cute isn't what I'd use to describe myself."

"And how exactly would you describe yourself?"

Yuri's hand stilled and he looked up at his friend. "That's what I don't know. A hard ass maybe?" He took a deep breath before continuing whatever thought he was forming. "Like I'm tough, right? I don't take people's shit like a little bitch. If you cross me, I'll come at you and Yakov and Lilia are always on my ass for every little thing I do."

"The Russian punk," Otabek said.

"Yeah, exactly. Like how can some people think I'm a fucking lost kitten and then others think I'm a step away from jail time?" he sighed. Two complete different sides of the spectrum and yet some people found ways to put him in both.

"What's so wrong about being both?" Otabek asked.

"It's confusing as hell! How can you be nice and a dickhead at the same time?"

"Isn't that how you are with your friends?" Yuri's head tilted slightly at the question like a confused cat would. Of course, Otabek wouldn't tell him that while he was questioning his existence and cuteness. "Well, as you said, you're a 'hard ass' and fight everything that walks."

"Gee, thanks."

"Oi, let me finish. If you were wholeheartedly a hard ass, then why would they be friends with you? We both know people who are insufferable and no one wants to be around them. But, you still have many close friends."

"Friends is a bit generous," Yuri muttered.

"Whether you admit it or not, they still see more than an asshole when it comes to you," Otabek shrugged. He took another sip of his coffee and watched as the Russian take in his words.

"I mean, I still don't think it's possible to be a nice dick. Don't fucking laugh at that, you ass," Yuri scowled when the Kazakh smirked slightly.

"I wouldn't write that off as being impossible, but you meant personality-wise, I imagine." He enjoyed the roll of those emerald green eyes at his childishness. "Anyway, you don't have to confine yourself to one personality. Aren't people more complicated than that?"

Yuri took a break from playing with his coffee to drink more of it. "Like how the pig is a nervous wreck one second and on top of the world the next?"

"More or less, yeah. He still gets anxiety a lot from what you tell me at competitions but he still has enough confidence to even beat you."

"Ugh, don't fucking bring that up."

"All I'm saying is that confidence and anxiety don't normally coexist and Katsuki has both," Otabek said.

There was silence at their table for a moment before Yuri chugged what was left of his coffee. "Otabek?"

"Yes?"

"What do you think of me?"

Otabek looked him up and down before finishing his own coffee. "I think you're a nice dick," he chuckled.

"I fucking hate you."

"And I wouldn't have it any other way, Yuri."

Author's Note

So I originally intended to write a steamy fic with a shy Yuri and it ended up being a weird teenage angst thingy. Welcome to my life where I don't even know what happens half the time. This is also my first time writing Otabek in any of my stories, so hopefully I did him justice XD Anyway, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!

Until next time, sayonara~!