Time to make the YOI fandom hate me! XD I was going to make something similar for a Mystic Messenger fic with Zen but changed my mind.
CHAPTER ONE
Otabek Atlin lets out a tired sigh. He had just finished practice and was ready to chow down. Of course he had to leave the ice rink first. While walking to the locker room he debated if he should get food or just go home and sleep. He soon plants his butt down on a bench and begins switching his skates to his shoes. He was more tired than he thought; bending over took the last of his energy away. He straightened up once his shoes were on and leaned against a locker, looking at the ceiling. He decided sleep would be best. After twenty minutes pass Otabek forces himself to stand, and gathers his belongings. With his bag clutched to his shoulder he walks out of the rink and into the evening air. As he walked in the direction of his house he silently watched everything around him; it felt great to be in his own country again. Before Otabek knew it, he had already made it half way home. Just a few more blocks and he could go on a date with his bed. His pocket vibrates causing him to half jump. Pulling the forgotten phone out, he glances down at it. A grin crosses his face when he sees who's calling him. Yuri Plisetsky. He quickly hits answer and places the phone to his ear.
"Hello Yuri," he says holding back his excitement.
"What? How'd you know…. Oh caller ID," Yuri says realizing what a stupid question he had just asked. Otabek lets out a small laugh. "Hey are you laughing at me!?" Yurio questions.
"Of course not Yuri," he lied. Otabek hears Yuri mumble to himself.
"You posted you were going to practice, how was it?" Yuri changes the subject. Otabek hides a smile even though Yuri couldn't see him.
"It went well. Though I'm tired now because I tried pushing my limits," he replied.
"So that's why you sound tired, practice is great but don't exhaust yourself," Yurio half lectures. He didn't want to sound too much like Yuuri.
"Do I really sound tired? I was hoping I wouldn't. Speaking of practice aren't you there now?" Otabek also changes the subject.
"Pcht. Yeah I'm there but so are Viktor and that pork cutlet bowl. Whenever they get a break they're sucking each other's face. It's disgusting."
"I'm sure Phichit would love to get pictures," Otabek says while laughing.
"That guy is weird. Oh Otabek I have to go. Yakov wants to lecture me," Yurio proclaims angrily.
"If you need to rant later feel free to call me," Otabek offers. He heard an inhale from over the phone. Yurio had definitely stopped delight from escaping his throat.
"Y-You too Otabek. I'll talk to you later," Yurio said.
"Yeah. Talk to you later," Otabek responded before they both hit the end button. Otabek was a little disappointed their conversation was so short but it couldn't be helped. He slides his phone back in his pocket and adjusts his bag before continuing his walk home.
Once Otabek steps onto his porch his whole body deflated. His bed was calling. His stomach reminded him they missed dinner which caused him to wrap his arms around his stomach. For some reason he nervously looked around. There was no one out at the moment so he gave a sigh of relief. All he wanted was sleep; his stomach would have to wait. His phone goes off at the exact moment he touched the door to enter his house. Deciding to check it before walking inside, he pulls the phone out and unlocks the screen. 'Even if you're tired don't forget to eat –Yuri.' Otabek smiled at the text from his friend. 'Don't worry I'll eat. Don't you forget either-Otabek.' He slides his phone back in his pocket once again before opening his door. However he only got one foot in through the door when he heard a loud shrill scream. He froze. Why was there a scream coming from his house? There should be no one there. Should he investigate or call the cops? Did he accidentally leave the T.V on? Something breaking brought him back to the present. There was definitely someone in his house. As quietly as he could, Otabek walked into his house. Keeping his body close to the wall he began searching, hoping to find nothing. He felt at ease when he found nothing but couldn't let his guard down because something wasn't right. His heart sank when he found a window in the kitchen broken; red stains glistening on the glass. He snapped his head up when the sound of footsteps entered his ears. Those footsteps were followed by a hard thud. Otabek was slightly regretting having an upstairs guest bed and bathroom. Otabek places his hand on the railing and scans upward. He couldn't move; his body wouldn't listen to him.
After yelling and urging himself to move he finally managed to plant his foot on the steps. So not to be heard, he tip toed the enter way. He hesitated when he got on the second floor. He mentally kicked himself for not being braver. Otabek jumped when he heard what sounded like someone pounding the floor with their fists. A shiver slithered down his spine when he heard the sound of choking. Going against his better judgment, Otabek swings open the door. Terror consumed him. Laying on the floor staring up at him was a man a few years older than him; blood pouring out of a wound from his neck. There was no life in his eyes. Otabek quickly looked up to find a woman in a waiter's uniform staring at him. She had long brown hair that was covered in dry blood. Her face was also painted in blood but it looked fresh and was even dripping from her chin. Her green eyes stared him down through her blood mask. Clutched tightly in her hand was a butcher knife drenched with blood. Otabek looked at the man on the floor and quickly back at the woman who now bore a devilish grin; her eyes wide with joy. Terror possessed Otabek forcing him to turn and run out of the room and down the stairs. Hope filled him when he saw the front door. However in his search earlier he had dropped his bag in the middle of the floor which now betrayed him. He crashed to the ground letting his face collide with the hard wood. When he raised his head blood gushed from his nose. Ignoring the pain, he pushed himself off the ground and made his way to the door. As soon as Otabek let his fingertips graze his front door a noise shattered his hearing and a sharp pain danced through his shoulder. He cupped his new wound and turned around. There she was pointing a gun at him. As he watched her with his back pressed against the door, he fumbled with the door handle trying to get free. A cackle escaped the woman's throat as Otabek slid down the wood of the door. His world turned black.