"Yuuri!" Viktor called form across the rink as he saw his beloved raven-haired fiancé leaving the ice. "Where are you going?"
"Home." Yuuri smiled as Viktor skated up to him, leaning on the opposite side of the barrier. "Makka needs a walk and I need to sleep."
"I'll come with you." Viktor moved to exit the rink but was stopped by Yuuri's hand on his face and their lips connecting.
"And you need to work on you step sequence." Yuuri winked as they parted, keeping his chocolate eyes locked with his fiancé's azure ones. "You spend too much time focusing on me and not enough on yourself. I'll see you at home."
Viktor leaned in for another kiss, but found himself nearly toppling over the rink barrier as Yuuri turned and walked away from him. He felt his cheeks flush pink as he stared longingly after his beautiful fiancé, not wanting Yuuri to leave his sight.
"If you're not going to practice get off the ice." Yuri blew snow at Viktor's ankles as he teased the older man. "You see him every day, how can you miss him already?"
"Because love is a mysterious thing, Yurio." Viktor's voice took on that ever familiar dream-like tone that could only mean he was thinking of his Yuuri. His Katsudon. His lover. Yuuri disappeared through the change room door, prompting Viktor to look at the smirking boy behind him. "I hope for you to understand someday."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Yurio called after Viktor as he tore across the ice into a flawless quad flip, silver hair flying.
"You need to realise that what you have with Otabek is special." Viktor called as he worked through his less than perfect step sequence.
"I know that!" Yurio called back, defensively. He loved Beka, but he still didn't see how you could miss someone when they were in the same building as you. Yurio rolled his eyes at Viktor's cheeky wink, and got back to working on his combination spin. But with Viktor's words in his head, Yurio found his thoughts returning to Beka more and more. Goddammit.
Yuuri waved to Viktor and Yurio as he left the rink, receiving a grunt and a thrown kiss in return. He emerged onto the streets of St. Petersburg, deciding to walk home in the surprisingly mild evening air. The house he and Viktor shared was only a few blocks from the rink, so there was really no point in wasting money on a cab. Yuuri set off in the direction of home, feeling content. A hot bath after walking Makka sounded like a great idea; a great idea that would turn into a fantastic idea if he could persuade Viktor to take it with him. That wouldn't be too hard considering Yuuri had found his eros coming out more and more since he'd moved in with the beautiful Russian man. He was still the same, shy Yuuri in public, but at home, he and Viktor tended to eros the shit out of each other. He laughed at that thought, 'eros the shit out of each other.'
About halfway home, Yuuri began to feel uneasy. It wasn't an unusual occurrence, considering he'd always been an anxious person, so he ignored it at first. But as the feeling persisted, he decided to sneak a peek behind him. There were three men walking at a respectable distance behind him, talking and joking together. His first thought was to call Viktor, but he talked himself out of it. He was just being paranoid. These people were probably just walking home. He was overreacting. He was paranoid.
Nonetheless, he picked up his pace.
Yuuri pulled out his keys as he reached the front walk, and swiftly slipped in the door, slamming and locking it behind him. He felt his breath catch and his heart speed up as he peered out the front curtains, barely moving them aside to look out onto the illuminated street. The trio came into view, their behaviour unchanged from when Yuuri had first seen them. He stopped breathing all together when they were in front of the house, but they soon passed and Yuuri found himself letting loose a heavy sigh of relief. He'd been overreacting after all.
Yuuri dropped the curtains and shook his head, wishing he could be less paranoid all the time. His uneasiness was usually unwarranted.
Usually.
It was when Yuuri felt his head being rammed into the wall by a strong hand that he realised his anxiety had laid in the wrong situation.
The room spun, and Yuuri found himself on the edge of a panic attack, but the cold metal blade that had suddenly appeared at his throat, and the fist tangled in his hair kept him from struggling. He should have known something was off when Makkachin hadn't greeted him at the door. Why did he have to be worried about a group of people walking home the same way he was? Why couldn't he have realised he was in true danger before it presented itself in the form of a terrible headache and blood dripping down the side of his face? Why?
"Keep quiet if you want to see your boyfriend again." The man growled in Yuuri's ear. He felt his breath catch at the mention of Viktor. The one person in the world who cared as much for Yuuri as Yuuri did for him. The one person Yuuri had ever loved with his entire being. The one person Yuuri couldn't live without.
The knife was taken away and Yuuri felt the grip on his hair tighten, ripping out painful chunks, but he kept quiet. He was dragged upstairs by his hair, head spinning, but he kept quiet. Three more men were standing in the room he and Viktor shared as he was thrown onto the bed, but he still kept quiet.
"Scream goddammit, SCREAM!" he begged his mouth to move, for any sound to escape his throat, but he still remained silent.
By the end of it, his wrists were bloody and raw from being tied to the bedframe. His body was bruised and aching from each painful strike. His mind swirled with confusion, not knowing whether to feel anger, fear, shame or misery. He wasn't sure where the sweat ended and the tears began. He was unconscious, both from exhaustion and pain.
That was how Viktor found him.