Viktor reached his hand out for the leaves that had fallen down. He was sat under the tree, staring into blank space. Maccachin barked, playfully wagging it's tail, waiting for it's owner to throw the stick once again. Viktor smiled. Quiet environments and Maccachin's company was all he needed, or so he thought.
It had been months since his writer's block and honestly, Viktor was pissed. He felt stuck and helpless and his mind was filled with useless thoughts. He hated it, he hated how he couldn't come up with a single line and how he had totally no inspiration at all.
"What am I going to do Maccachin? I have no inspiration anymore to write," Viktor asked his dog, who looked at him quizzically.
Viktor sighed depressively and stood up. Upon turning around, Viktor was faced with someone who was crouching and holding a camera near his face, his lips parting ever so slightly. Curious, the Russian slowly made his way near the other boy.
With his camera off his face, Viktor stared right at the black-haired beauty. He had these pair of amazing chocolate brown eyes that Viktor swore he could get lost in any day. His was pretty fit too, with pretty broad shoulders and a good physique.
Viktor mentally facepalmed himself when he realised that he had been staring for too long.
"Hi, do you come here often?", Viktor started.
The boy nodded shyly, a tint of red spreading across his cheeks.
"Oh! Where are my manners. I'm Viktor, Viktor Nikiforov."
"I know...", the boy spoke softly, fingers playing with the crevices of his camera.
Viktor's face immediately lit up. "Really? What's your name?"
"Y-Yuuri Katsuki... And yes, I-I love y-your poems and books," Yuuri replied, not daring to stare at the man in front of him.