Sorry for the long wait on this chapter! College has really been keeping me busy and unmotivated, so I've been having a hard time coming back to this. Anyways, thank you to everyone that favorites this story, and I hope this chapter continues to make the following grow. There is some angst in this and some alluding to even more horrible things.

Also, if there are any mistakes, message me. It was late when I finished this, and I didn't feel like checking it.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything fron Yuri! On Ice. I only own the characters you don't recognize.

The screen was paused on a thumbnail of a young man, his body hunched forward and drenched in sweat. For a moment, Desmond considered closing out his tabs, but this was something he needed to do. Seated by the window, he was aware of the midnight sky as he pressed play, a muffled beat flowing through his headphones.

The man was young, considered a boy by most, and he was in desperate need of a haircut. The curly strands flowed down his back, untouched by bleach and dye. Even then, his face was speckled with acne, but it wasn't near as bad as it was now. The darkness of his skin had disguised most of it, something that had faded once he moved to a much colder place.

When he had clicked on the video, he had expected to see a clumsy and awkward mess. Instead, he saw excitement.

There was a shine to the man's eyes, a joy that made his heart swell. Thinking back, he didn't recall the happiness skating had brought him, but this video had captured it perfectly.

He nearly choked on the breath he had been holding as he watched the man land on shaky feet. It wouldn't pass at a real competition, but there was pride in his movements, a desire to be better.

Anxiously chewing on his nail, Desmond let his eyes follow each turn and twist, and he tensed when the man leaped off the ice once more. It was agonizing to watch him fly through the air before his blades touched the glass surface.

There was a jolt and a skip, but he landed it well enough. As the song came to an end, Desmond watched the man lifted his leg, the rough blade so close to slicing his hand open. One wrong move, and there would be blood all over the ice.

"Oh, it's that guy from the video! The one who nearly sliced his hand open trying to lift his leg above his head!"

He scoffed and finally closed the video, letting his head fall back until it hit the chair. The headphones were pulled from his ears, and they slid down to his neck, silent.

"Fuck you, JJ. You act like you've never messed up in a program," he muttered.

At the end of that practice, Desmond had been proud of what he had accomplished. He hadn't cared about his brother filming it until he had a barrage of people messaging him about it. He hadn't expected it to get so popular, especially with how little everyone knew about him.

The video could've disappeared if he hadn't come here and put himself with some of the greatest players in the game.

His phone buzzed in his hand, and he sat up, smiling at the icon on his screen. Clicking the video button, he let himself relax when he saw his grinning mother.

"Ah, there is my handsome boy. You look exhausted. Are you getting enough sleep? Is Hanna working you too hard? What happened to your hair? I mean, it looks much better than before, but I thought you wouldn't let anyone but Heba touch it?" She questioned, her hands clasped together in her lap.

If Desmond remembered correctly, it had to be early where she was, and his younger siblings were at school. He missed walking them to the bus, and he wondered how they were doing in their classes.

He looked back at her, and his heart skipped. There was a glow to his mother that he had forgotten, and seeing calmed his buzzing nerves.

"I'm alright, mom. I'm getting enough sleep, and this hair was not my idea. Hanna brought in a hairdresser friend, and they basically forced me into the chair," he said. Something in him tensed at the lie of his sleep schedule, but he didn't want to worry her. "How is everyone?"

She launched into telling him all about the family. Her hands danced as she spoke passionately about her wife, explaining about how they had gone on a wonderful weekend in the mountains together. She mentioned that his older brother, Bryson, had married that "sweet, sweet boy with a heart of gold."

"Oh, your poor sister. Junie has been struggling lately when it comes to a relationship," his mother said as she shook her head, tucking back a strand of her silky hair.

"What about that one guy? The business man. What was his name?" Desmond drifted off as his mother went on another rant about her eldest daughter's failing relationships, only half-hearing her concerns about him.

"Des?"

He lifted his head and yawned, noticing her curious gaze. "Yeah?"

"Have you met anyone?"

The color drained from his face, and he chuckled softly, shrugging his shoulders.

"No one is interested in me, mom. Besides, I'm too busy for a relationship."

She flashed a crooked grin that told Desmond she hadn't believed a single word. No matter how much he tried, she would always know.

"Well, sweet boy, I must go. I wanted to check up on you and make sure you were taking care of yourself. Please, sleep. I love you. We all do. Emilia and K.J. miss having you around, but they love that you're following your dreams. Tara is being as rambunctious as ever, but she misses you, too. "

His cheeks warmed as he nodded. "I love you, too, mom. All of you. Tell everyone that I miss them."

He felt an ache when the video disappeared, and he fell back, sighing softly. The world around him was still, the outside ambience ignored.

Hands were gripping his hips, keeping him rooted in place. Desmond stood still as Chris struggled to push off the stiffness in his bones. Since arriving here, Desmond had felt nothing but tension, and having his biggest crush so close didn't help.

"You need to relax, or you'll never portray the feelings you want to," Chris purred, his voice like warm chocolate. It was so easy for him to exude confidence and sex appeal, almost as if it were second nature.

"That's not so easy," he muttered, and his handsome companion chuckled.

"Well, what makes you feel sexy?"

Desmond felt his blood run cold as he pushed away from Chris, brushing his hands through the mop of hair on top of his head. He noticed the peculiar look the taller man gave him, and his stomach flopped.

"I don't ever feel sexy, Chris. It's just not my thing, and I've been okay with that until my brother decided to make the music for my program."

Tilting his head, Chris stared down at Desmond, sensing his growing discomfort. He was closing himself off from the world, his skinny arms curling around his body in the form of a hug. There was something in his eyes, an ache of a lingering pain that he refused to speak about.

"There's something else keeping you from achieving this, isn't there?" Chris asked, a frown pulling at the corners of his lips. He pushed forward, gliding over the ice until he could reach for Desmond. His slender fingers just barely touched the sleeve of the boy's shirt before Desmond darted away, tripping over his skates.

He hit the ice hard, his palms flat against the shiny surface. His body shook as he slowly twisted around, yanking off the demons surrounding his feet. They scraped across the ground, skidding to a stop in front of Chris, and Desmond rushed to his feet.

There was a panicked look in his eyes as he stared at Chris, gnawing on his bottom lip. Tears slid down his freckled cheeks, falling like broken pieces of glass.

"I...I shouldn't have thrown the skates. I'm sorry. Please, don't get m-mad," he said, visibly shaking.

Oh.

Chris approached the terrified boy, his heart cracking at the sight before him. He had never seen someone so scared, and the image would imprint itself in his mind. Not wanting to frighten Desmond, he moved at a slow pace until he could reach out and touch him.

"I'm not mad, Desmond. Why would I be mad?" He whispered.

"I-I'm not d-doing what you want. I'm j-just giving up."

A sigh fell from Chris's lips, and he shook his head. "I didn't expect you to get this on the first try. Desmond, what's going on?"

There was a rush of air, a scampering of feet. He heard the double doors slam shut as Desmond ran out, leaving behind his new skates and his bag. Defeated, Chris stared at where he had been standing, his mind a tangled web of questions.

It was nearly eleven when the knocking started. Torn away from her pleasant dreams, Hanna climbed out of her bed and slid her freezing feet into a pair of tattered slippers. The air had taken a vicious chill during the night, and she quickly stuffed her body into a thick robe. Shuffling down the hall, she listened to the knocking, wondering who thought it was polite to come at such an hour.

She stepped over the mess blankets and pillows surrounding the couch, the remnants of her grandchildren. They had been there not long ago, filling her house with a vibrancy it lacked.

Standing tall, she peered through the peep hole and frowned.

Why was Christophe Giacometti outside her house?

She yanked open the door and crossed her arms. "I hope you know what time it is, boy."

He offered a quick apology, trembling beneath the cold.

"Get your ass in here. I won't be responsible for a famous skater freezing to death."

Chris stumbled past her, furiously rubbing his numb hands together. She saw no sign of a car, and she turned to look at him, curious. Before she could get a word in, he was facing her, breathing hard.

There was sweat smeared across his forehead as he stood in the living room, and it didn't take much for her to realize he had sprinted here. His eyes were wild and dazed, a hint of concern in them.

"I need you to tell me what happened to Desmond."

Thanks for reading! I'm going to try and get out another chapter soon, but that all depends on what I have happening. Constructive criticism is always welcome!

Also, this story is going to have some darker elements to it. I'll put warnings up before every chapter to make sure no one is surprised.

Once again, thank you. Have a good day.