AN:

Welcome back!

Disclaimer: I do not own Yuri! On Ice

I'm having a lot of fun with this story, which is a little unnerving because I read somewhere that the more fun a story is to read or write by the author, the more boring and hard to read it is to the readers…

Chapter 2: Phone Numbers and Dreams to Stay

Victor glanced casually down the counter at his new boss while he wiped up a small puddle on the counter. A rushed and clumsy business woman in a frighteningly short pencil skirt left it behind on Victor's once pristine and shining counter, and it irked him. He was trying really hard with this job. Really hard. At other jobs, he would clean (albeit a bit half-heartedly), but at this job he was going to cleannn. Everything was going to be in its place at all times, everything was going to be so clean it sparkled, and every customer was going to leave with a perfectly made order and a smiling face if it killed him.

He was very passionate about this.

Part of the reason that he was so empowered to be the model employee was because he wanted to keep this job. Victor had bounced around between places of work and living for the past few years like a troublesome, misunderstood foster kid who just needed love and maybe some more sleep. He never really liked any place he stayed at, and nothing ever felt like living. It was like surviving, making it day to day, paycheck to paycheck, bussing tables and sucking up to customers for tips, hunting down coins in the laundromat with aching, blistered fingers— that wasn't living. He wasn't enjoying life— he didn't have time to enjoy life. He'd forgotten what his hobbies were, who is friends were, what it was like to sleep. What is was like to smile.

He worked at a few fast food places and contemplated sticking his head in the fryer daily. He worked as a waiter more often, and had to restrain himself from pouring the complimentary pitchers of water all over half the customers' heads. He worked retail, where he restrained himself from hulking out and throwing the cash register at his boss' face.

And now he had a job at a cute, successful coffee place where the customers were friendly and the boss was understanding. A fresh breeze danced through the shop all day, the list of drinks wasn't the longest he'd had to memorize, and the place wasn't two bus rides and a two mile walk from his apartment.

Speaking of his apartment, that wasn't bad either. He'd stayed at some pretty dank places. Dirty motels, moldy rooms on rent, the floor of random co-workers' homes (talk about the real MVP. Anyone who lets a co-worker they've known for a single day live with them is an angel sent from the homeless gods). He slept in his work places (illegal? Yes) and in vehicles. Or under park benches. Behind garbage cans.

He'd dealt with electricity snapping off in the middle of the night and the water crapping out. He dealt with neighbors who shouted so loud that the walls would shake, and everything on the tables and shelves would come crashing to the floor. He dealt with sketchy staff that would follow him around or steal his stuff, and neighborhoods dangerous enough that he felt nervous trekking through the streets even in the light of day.

And now he had a sanitary apartment that was a little plain, but livable. It had functioning windows, doors that could lock, a polite staff, and wifi that was achievable without standing on stacks of books and furniture. It was in a small town— but it was safe. There weren't gangs on every corner sharing drugs, or children disappearing by the dozen each week and the crime rate was relatively low. Also, the cops actually showed up the patrol the streets, which Victor appreciated immensely (he made a point to introduce himself to the first parked cop he saw and asked all sorts of soccer-mom "is my little Johnny going to be safe in this here town, Mr. Cop, Sir" questions).

He liked this safe and actually quite nice place. He wanted to stay. He really, really, really wanted to stay. And if he wanted to stay in the town, in the apartment, in the job— then he had to be freaking perfect. No excuses, no sick days, no mistakes. Perfection.

Victor shook his head at his rambling mind and tossed the now stained rag into a bucket of cleaner under the counter. He leaned against the glossy counter, tapping his fingers in a rhythmless beat against the mahogany surface. Rocking distractedly back and forth on his heels, he sent another quick look at his boss and bit his lip anxiously.

His boss, Toshiya, was busy unhooking empty bags of drink mix in the cabinet below smoothie machine, so he could clean the tubes that descended to hook to the bags. The shop owner sat on the floor, arching backwards into the cabinet so he could clean, looking almost like he was fixing the underside of a car. Victor began glancing back and forth between the shop door and Toshiya.

"Victor, do you need something?" came Toshiya's amused voice. Victor's eyes widened. He casually leaned against the counter and shot a charming grin to the shop owner, trying to pull off the CoolRelaxed&ConfidentLook.

"No, not at all—"

"Victor." Toshiya's no-nonsense tone was hard to deny.

"Okay, fine." Victor muttered, dropping the façade. He ambled over to Toshiya and awkwardly stood in front of the man whose whole torso was now inside a smoothie machine. He stood awkwardly for a moment, struggling with wording and whether or not he should he really ask this and what will Toshiya think and—

"I can hear you breathi—"

"So, Yuri." Victor blurted eloquently. Toshiya snorted from inside the machine and Victor crossed his arms self-consciously, glaring at his boss' legs (which were the only part of him visible).

"What about Yuri?" Victor gritted his teeth at the light, condescending tone but knew that it was all good fun. Toshiya liked to tease his coworkers, but it was no worse than a poking comment from a friend or a brother.

"Is he…" Victor swallowed hard and cleared his throat, fiddling with the hem of his apron. Toshiya crawled out of the smoothie machine and closed the double doors of the cabinet. He took one look at Victor and smiled kindly, the skin around his eyes crinkling.

"Let's close up and have a chat," he offered sincerely. Victor frowned in confusion at this. He glanced out the tall windows of the dining area and was shocked to see that it was pitch black outside. The air wafting in through the open windows was cool and smelled of the musk of night time. Victor had worked from the crack of dawn until midnight and he hadn't even noticed. Wasn't his break only, like, a few hours ago?

Time flies fast when you're not counting the ways to kill people on the job.

Following boss' orders, Victor began closing up shop. He edged around the counter and walked to the heavy oak door, pulling it shut and flinching delicately when it slammed loudly. He carefully locked it, so outsiders couldn't get in, but anyone inside the shop could get out and, once he was satisfied that he had locked it correctly, he turned around. And there was Toshiya smiling like a kind and understanding grandpa while holding two steaming mugs.

Toshiya eased into a tasteful patchwork chair made from blue, grey and white scraps of cloth and gestured to the chair beside his. Victor sat stiffly in a hand painted chair with images of an ocean scene done by a local college student. Toshiya grinned at Victor over a small vase of flowers on the aged table between them and sipped from his tie-dye mug.

"Now, what about Yuri did you want to talk about?" he finally asked with a knowing grin. Victor blushed, trying to find his voice.

"I'm just… curious." Victor mumbled quickly, grabbing his bright yellow smiley face mug. He sipped his drink to distract himself but had the feeling Toshiya saw right through him. Toshiya cocked his head with another understanding smile while Victor berated himself for using the word "curious" and screamed thunderously in his own mind for starting this conversation.

"I met Yuri when he was… seventeen, I believe," Toshiya began. Victor's interest piqued embarrassingly when he heard Yuri's name.

"Now, I can't tell you much about him, because most of it is his own story to tell," Toshiya warned. "But there are a few things I can still tell you. When we met, Yuri was very much a different person. He was scared… I think. He was clearly hurt and lost. It took a lot of coaching to help him get to where he is today."

"Where he is today?" Victor asked. Toshiya smiled sadly.

"He is able to smile." The man said simply. Victor had a sinking feeling about Yuri's past. "He can feel sad and know it will pass," Toshiya continued, brow furrowed as he continued to think of ways to explain his close friend's situation.

"He can panic and compose himself. He has connections, friends, people he can count on, people who love him. It took a lot to get him to where he is, and I just don't want to see him falling back… relapsing, you could say." Toshiya finished, his tone filled with unspoken threat.

"I... I'm sorry, but I don't—" Victor stuttered, slightly thrown off and terrified by the dangerous gleam in his once grandfatherly boss' eye.

"I saw how you looked at him," Toshiya explained with wistful grin. "I saw how he looked at you. I am an old man, but that doesn't mean I'm blind. Yet." Victor attempted a weak smile.

"What else can you tell me?" he begged. Toshiya laughed warmly at his enthusiasm.

"He is a very talented young man. Very athletic and intelligent, too. He trains for marathons and runs them almost weekly. But, little known fact," Toshiya said, leaning in conspiratorially with a secretive grin. Victor felt himself hopefully grinning like a child about to be let in on a huge secret.

"He was once an extremely popular and successful competitive ice skater."

Вот дерьмо. Victor felt a thrill run through his body.

Ice skating.

"What was he like?" Victor blurted, eyes glowing and grin widening. "When he skated? On the ice, what was it like? Tell me, tell me, tellmetellmeeverything!" Toshiya laughed boisterously at Victor's enthusiasm.

"Yuri on ice… is indescribable." Toshiya said with the shining eyes of a proud father. "He was like a butterfly gracefully floating across the ice. He came alive and was bright like a firework going off against a black velvet sky. His routines were intricate and complicated, which was just how he liked them of course. He was a cute kid, so he wasn't taken seriously at first, but he eventually started believing in himself. He did this one specific routine that almost won him nationals— sorry, I'm rambling!" Toshiya said sheepishly, but Victor shook his head.

"Don't apologize, tell me!" he pleaded. Toshiya looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Actually, if you have such an interest in ice skating— in Yuri and ice skating," Toshiya corrected with a twinkle in his eye. Victor blushed and nonchalantly sipped his coffee. "Why don't you ask him to share some of his old videos of his routines?"

Victor choked.

"I— wha— d-do you think he'd…" Victor trailed off, desperately trying to keep his childish hope at bay. Toshiya rolled his eyes.

"Have some confidence, child. He wants to get to know you, too." Victor felt his heart swell with those words. This morning he was a lonely, sad little single man and now, in the dim light of an awesome café he now worked at, he was fueled with hope and the knowledge that someone wanted to— wait a second. His brain stopped him.

Just because someone wanted to get to know him, didn't mean that they wanted to… hold hands and skip off into the sunset, or make daisy crowns for each other or whatever people did these days. Regardless, it was a start and his elated emotional side won the fight against his brain's logic side. Full of adrenaline and out of breath, Victor grinned widely.

"How— how do I… I mean, I don't have his number. I don't even know his last name to look him up…" Victor trailed off, wondering where he could find the nearest phonebook. Did people even use phonebooks anymo— oh wait. The internet. That's a thing. It has phone numbers.

Toshiya held up a finger in the universal "wait a second" sign. He pulled a napkin from the drawer of the table between their chairs, which immediately attracted Victor's attention as he didn't realize that there were napkins hidden inside the tables.

Toshiya bent over the napkin, pulled a pen from the pocket of his shirt and began scribbling across the napkin. Victor peered over the vase between them to see what Toshiya was writing, but the man smirked and hid his work with his free hand. When he was finished writing, Toshiya crumpled the napkin and dropped it to the floor.

Victor gave Toshiya a confused look and watched his superior stand up and walk nonchalantly to the counter, where he began cashing out the register like nothing had happened. Victor watched him for a moment, unsure of what he should do. Toshiya glanced up and, upon seeing Victor's lost expression, paused his work with the register and gave a faux sigh or exasperation.

"Victor," he admonished. Victor blinked, not following. "Didn't I tell you to sweep the dining area? Come on, boy! I can clearly see a napkin right under the table you're sitting at. Stop lazing around on the job and get to work! Honestly, what do I pay you for?" Toshiya exclaimed with a playful tone. Victor blinked.

"Oh…" he trailed off. "Oh," if Yuri's number just so happened to be written on a napkin that Victor found crumpled on the floor, he could call and play it off like he was calling to figure out if the phone number was meant to get to someone who might have dropped the napkin on accident and wanted it back— that's so smart. Victor completely underestimated his boss.

"Come back no earlier than noon tomorrow," the older man demanded with a wagging finger while Victor chased down the napkin ball. "I know your type, boy. Work, work, work is all you do, and you smile through everything. That's not good for the heart, the mind or the soul. Get some rest, child!" he demanded, shooing his newest employee out of the door.

Victor protested weakly, but Toshiya kept firing back with the importance or rest and self-care. Eventually, Toshiya had managed to gently push Victor out of the café and into the arched alcove of stone outside the buildings entrance.

Once he was standing under the light of the elegant street lantern close to the cafe, Victor began unfolding the napkin. Flipping it right side up, he found the neat, swoopy lettering of Toshiya's practiced hand. The first words written were a name:

Katsuki Yuri. It was followed by a string of numbers that Victor could only assume was a phone number. Victor grinned, heart swooping and excitement thrilling through his veins yet again.

Katsuki Yuri.

AN:

You know that part where Toshiya is talking about how Yuri skates, and he's like "Yuri on ice… is blahblahblah" part? Thought it was pretty clever, if I do say so myself. Also, how preciousss is Victor getting all excited about skating and Yuri and OMGYuriskating.

Feel free to let me know what you liked, what you didn't like, what you hated, what you want to see— I'm all ears (or I guess eyes, in this case)!