I am so, genuinely, sorry that I haven't posted anything. I have had a major case of writer's block, doubled with school work and laziness. This is only a short chapter, but hopefully it's okay for now. I don't know how long it'll be until I make the next chapter, but I have an ending in mind, so there will be more chapters.

Disclaimer: I don't own YOI or any other people/characters. I do own Kurai, but I don't own anything or anyone.

Kurai walked stiffly down the hallway, nervously rolling his week-old tongue piercing around in his mouth, trying to avoid and ignore the stares he was getting from the media, other skaters and their teams. He was well aware that he looked like a complete mess. He hadn't slept a wink last night, mainly because he was attempting to nurse an ill Lindsey back to health until four in the morning. And when he had finally gotten a break, he had ingested too much caffeine to be able to even sit down without getting hopelessly restless. He had spent those two hours of free time pacing in the kitchen of their rented apartment.

And now he was exhausted. The makeup covered the bags under his eyes, but he still looked paler than usual. Grumbling curses under his breath, he made his way toward the change rooms. He had barely touched the door handle when an all too familiar voice cut through the haze in his aching head.

"Katsudon!"

He froze mid-stride, not daring to turn around and face the Russian Punk. Shivers crawled down his spine as he tried to ignore the nickname he hated with a passion. Regaining his composure, he continued his current task and slipped into the change rooms without even glancing back at Yuri. Letting his bag strap slide off his shoulder and down his arm to his hand, he stepped soundlessly into one of the stalls and made sure to lock the door.

As he was pulling off his shirt, a loud bang came from the other side of the stall's door. Kurai crouched down a little and saw the angry blond's single shoe-clad foot standing in front of his stall. Another loud bang, again and again and again. Yuri Plisetsky was continually kicking his stall door. He shook his head, a faint smile ghosting his lips.

No matter how persistent the other skater was, Kurai wasn't going to open the door until he was changed. He shrugged the black t-shirt off his arms, letting it fall into his bag, before pulling on the top half of his Steampunk outfit.

When he finally did open the door, Yuri had disappeared again. He quickly zipped up his dark gray and red jacket over his costume, shut his bag in one of the lockers, and exited the change rooms, feeling slightly less crappy than earlier.

When he got to the warm-up area, he spotted a Yuri yelling furiously at a dazed-looking Viktor. He scoffed a little at the sight. Sure, Viktor was probably very traumatized from what he had experienced over the past couple of weeks. And Kurai did feel a little bad for the silver-haired man, but it was technically Viktor's own fault that all this had happened. A short chuckle escaped his throat as he shook his head and turned away from his ex-friends. Only to come face-to-face with his ex-best friend.

"O-Oh!" Phichit laughed nervously, giving the Japanese man a hesitant smile. "Hello Kurai, how are you?"

Kurai stared at the Thai skater for a moment, silently contemplating his options for a response. Then he let a small smile tug at the corners of his lips. He reached down and caught both of Phichit's hands in between his soft, warm ones. All eyes were on them, expressions of shock covering the faces of the media and fellow skaters alike. The fear in Phichit's eyes quickly morphed into confusion.

"I'm good," Kurai told the other young man. "I hope you are doing well too. Good luck on the ice."

He gave the other's hands a quick squeeze, before walking away to put on his skates and warm up, leaving Phichit to gape at thin air in shock.

Seriously short. I'm sorry.

Until next time,

Hanako xx