Everyone and their mother has been asking me about Yuuri Katsuki. Everyone has something to say and I really don't want to hear it.

I was 28 and going through that phase in my life when people are beginning to settle down. You know the one! Where your high school friends, the ones that didn't make a career out of competitive skating, are getting married and having babies and probably not drinking vodka at two in the morning. I hate that, I was that same age and yet I felt I had never even had a brush with real affection, so it's hard to believe I met the love of my life in a coffee shop of all places. How cliche, am I right?

It was a sunny day in July, I think I'd remember the date, the time and the place even if I hadn't written it down on a calendar the second I got home. I had decided to visit this little bistro outside my hotel because I had actually been planning on having a nice, relaxing morning! It turned out to be anything but.

Can I tell you about him? Can I make you understand one iota of the affection I feel for my angel? Yuuri Katsuki was captivating with hair that was both feather light and inky black. He had a round cherubic face with puffy cheeks that were adorned with a soft pink, even now the only comparison that comes to mind is the goddess Aphrodite son Cupid. On that day his hair was slicked back and out of his face, a rare treat, as I would come to learn. The fine strands looked like they'd be stiff to the touch, no wonder seeing as they were adorably caked with gel, and I was already imagining messing his entire look up. Dark, acid wash jeans gripped his full ass and smooth thighs like they were the only thing keeping them up. The dark green hoodie he had on did nothing to hide the tight pink shirt underneath that left nothing to the imagination.

If you're wondering why I'm going into such detail, it's because you need to know exactly why my Yuuri is as precious as can be. Why I know I can't go back to a life without him. He caught my eye the second he walked in, the bell above the door chiming. His eyes darted around the room before landing on me. What really made my heart stutter was the melodious laughter that wafted over to me. I remain surprised that anyone in that shop was able to focus on literally anything else. Do you believe in love at first sight?

He already had my attention, he really didn't have to pour hot tea in my lap.

To be fair that part wasn't as perfect as the rest, I'd have preferred the first time Yuuri saw me without my pants to be in a more… romantic setting, but beggars can't be choosers and he didn't seem to mind. While I was leaning against the cold ceramic of the sink with my pants around my ankle and my briefs around my knees, I tried not to muse on more preferable situations. The man was only trying to help and I decided to not go out of my way to give him more of an eye full than he already had.

My dear sweet Yuuri was furiously wiping and trying to prevent burns that I was in no way in trouble of getting as I tried to explain repeatedly. The tea had long gone cold but he still wouldn't stop wiping with a handful of on hand napkins. The only thing I did was smile amusedly at his downturned head and red tipped ears.

Five minutes of rambling, sweating and blushing later I was leading the still apologizing Yuuri out of the bathroom and asking if he wanted to grab dinner with me sometime. The little sweetie looked surprised and promptly ran into a table, spilling hot coffee on another man.

We ran out of that coffee shop together, smiling and laughing, Yuuri shoving a handful of tea soaked napkins into his pocket.

Our first date was magical and I took pains to make it so. I pulled out all the stops for my little pork cutlet bowl (his favorite food!), a five star restaurant on the waterfront, a limousine to make him feel like a star, and a live orchestra to set the mood. Yuuri squealed at every turn and when I close my eyes I can still see the the blinding flash of his camera's flash, going off and documenting the entire date.

Later that night, I was holding him and moving slowly against him, rolling my hips, whispering, praising, loving in his ear. There was no place I'd rather be. I sobbed my release into his shoulder and he tore his teeth into mine. We fell asleep with an iron grip on each other and with our skin stuck together in the sweetest way possible.

Yuuri didn't want to leave the next morning, to my joy, I certainly didn't want him to go either! We spent the morning cuddling and taking more pictures. At one point he actually asked me if we could go skating. I can be honest now and say skating wouldn't have been my first (or second) choice, but I'd known him two days at that point and was willing to do anything for him. I gladly found us a rink near by.

It was summer and the off season, so I didn't have a private rink to take him to. He seemed fine with it though, beaming at everyone and tugging on my hand. He wrapped an arm around me and seemed so proud to be with me. Showing me off I believe, I smile just thinking about it. I offered to pay for his skates but he said it was fine, he didn't want to skate. Teasing him about why exactly he wanted to come, I immediately let off at the tight smile that crossed his face. I offered to teach him and inwardly my heart soared at the ides of gliding on the ice with his soft form in my arms. He didn't want that either though, so I came up with a new plan.

Pressing one last soft kiss to his lips for luck, I turned and slowly pushed my way to the center of the rink. Since I'm telling the truth and all, I'll tell you that over the years my love for the ice has withered. Nothing seems new, nothing seems exciting and nobody seems real. It feels like the challenge is gone and I don't need to, or feel like, working. I'm 28 and I feel I could stop altogether with no regrets.

But now…

I look up and see my Yuuri. I smile when our eyes meet, deep brown clashing with icy blue. I knew exactly what I wanted to show him.

Renewed passion filled my limbs, an excitement, an energy I haven't felt in years. My body remembers this routine it performed years ago, mechanically, but now I move as I did when I was only 17, having just found the feeling, the mood, the need to skate, to express. I jump, I soar, I twirl.

Eros.

My trustworthy routine from my fifth season, it earned me my fifth gold. I thought I knew what Eros was back then, but now I know differently.

Now I know.

I finished my routine and noted belatedly, and felt a little embarrassed, that everyone else had evacuated the rink during my routine. All the bystanders go wild and the applause still rings in my ears today. A few people come up to me to talk, to flirt, to ask but I only have eyes for my beautiful Yuuri. I need to know that I've impressed, that he knows.

I see him leaning on the wall of the ice rink, his phone pointed at me and a small smile on his lips. I shoot one of my own to the camera. I love to dazzle, I aim to please.

On our way out he tells me he's seen the routine before and I apologize. I should've known he expected more.

I take him out to dinner to make up for it, we eat, we laugh, I pose. I take him home and ask for his number, he gives it but tells me he has no social media. A smile and a nod eases the tense look on his face. I press a kiss to his cheek and promise to call. He asks me to sign a couple (a few) things and I'm flattered. Although I want to stay over, I've got breakfast with Chris in the morning and am really so glad when he mentions that he'd love to come along.

I get home and dismiss the lack of a rubber in the trashcan.

In the morning we meet Christophe and I remember being a little nervous. Call it an intuition. The two most important men in my life have to like each other. I'd hate to lose either. They get off to a great start, soon discovering they both love the camera and the camera loves them. However, halfway through coffee Chris seems to wilt a bit and by the time the table's been cleared he's mostly just responding to Yuuri's questions with noncommittal grunts. We depart without plans to meet again, not for Yuuri's lack of trying however (so friendly!). I dismiss Chris' attitude as jealousy and endeavor to ignore him until he apologizes to my love. I get plenty of opportunities to ignore his calls.

Only a week later I'm on the receiving end of some very angry voicemails from Yakov. I'm shocked at the contents and it's no wonder Yuuri began sulking in our room for a bit afterwards. He stopped, luckily, when I promised not to call Yakov back.

The day Yuuri moves in is a sunny day in July. I remember it being one of the happiest days in my life. It's also the day I found one of my old skating outfits again, so a good day all around.

Reflecting on it now, I can see why people may have gotten a little snippy with Yuuri. He spent most of his time with me and any time we weren't together, he'd lock himself away, typing in the extra bedroom. It had almost become a study for him and I tried my best to respect his space. He didn't particularly like me going out without him, but I understood that. I felt at my best when we were together as well. As a result, I didn't get to see everyone as much but in the end i didn't really want to.

I think when that realization hit me was when I decided to quit skating altogether.

I called Yakov back for the first time but only to tell him of my decision. Skating may have no longer held interest for me but I wouldn't leave Russia high and dry, so I offered to come by to discuss a replacement and to maybe offer some tips for my successor.

It took Yakov weeks to not only realize I was serious but to realize I would not be willing to discuss my relationship with Yuuri. Eventually, however, he relented and asked me to meet a Yuri Plisetsky, a 15 year old blossoming skater, about to make his senior debut on the ice and Russia's next champion! Looking at footage I happily agreed that he had amazing potential and quickly planned on meeting t him.

I went out to my meeting while Yuuri was asleep (I still don't count it as sneaking out since he never said I couldn't leave). We met at an ice rink where he yelled at me and skated to my instructions. I gave him all the advice he needed and the nickname Yurio. I left the quiet rink feeling lighter than air now that I had more free time to spend with my Yuuri.

That feeling was shattered when I came back to a home with the lights on. The first thing I felt was guilt that my late night meeting had woken up Yuuri. I immediately tried to soothe him and suggest we go back to bed, but he was furious about something else though.

He screamed and shrieked and accused me of cheating. My heart dropped to my stomach and I tried to hold him, to assure him of my fidelity. No luck, he took a swing at me with a lamp and missed, so I kept my distance from that point onwards. For an hour he fumed and raged, storming through the apartment. I was genuinely worried that he'd hurt himself. When he finally calmed down I was relieved and immediately went to him. I lead him to the now askew couch and told him where I really had been. I told him about how my feelings for skating had changed and how I thought Russia needed a new champ, one who still loved the sport. I told him I was glad to quit and how I loved him. How deeply I was in love with him. And he didn't say a word. Not a one.

We got into bed, both emotionally exhausted but I was excited for the future. Our future together. I saw us maybe getting married. I'd buy us a house, a quiet one, somewhere in Russia. Maybe a child or two, something to lavish with love when Yuuri was away or not in the mood.

I was confused when I woke up to Yuuri packing up his things, understandably. I asked what this was about, I cried, I even tried to stop him but he wouldn't let me, wouldn't let me touch him.

I think I was hysterical at this point, it was all such a blur. When he was walking to door I made one last reach. One last attempt to keep him with me, I curled my hand around the doorframe to stop it from closing.

During our amazing, heartstopping, passionate month long relationship, there are certain things I can recall with ease. I can bring to mind the flash of his camera, the applause in the ice rink, the sound he made when he came. The sound the broken glass made during his rampage. The sound the bones in my hand made when he slammed the front door anyway.

He left on a sunny day in August.

I think I knew he would take my quitting hard. His favourite skater stops skating, yeah it might upset him. He wouldn't have anything more to put on his fan page (which I found and fawned over the same day we met), he'd probably lose a few thousand followers, but I thought he could deal. My Yuuri was the love of my life, and I'll admit to being a bit obsessed, but he was too. The little souvenirs he'd keep throughout our day could attest to that.

I think everyone at some point complained about him to me but I didn't care, I didn't care, but at the end of the day, when I had brought myself to the hospital, I still thought that wild look in his eye might've been love.

It could've been love.

AN: Shoot me a comment if you liked it or have any criticism?