Rollerskates & Cherry cola (A victuuri AU)

Yuuri

Peace.

That's what I feel sitting here.

September by Earth, Wind & Fire playing in the background

If you were to enter the old dingy cassette shop, the first thing that hits you is the musty smell of old paper and plastic. But beyond the initial odor, there's a strangely calming aura that fills this space.

This shop, sitting on the high street, with its tattered brown sign and dusty shelves. I swear nobody has walked in here for months

Only god knows how we're still open.

Looking around, I only see dusty old shelves stacked with rows upon rows of cassettes, some of which are covered in faded labels and others that have lost their cases entirely. The walls are adorned with vintage posters of old music legends, each one seemingly telling its own story.

Despite the clutter, there's an oddly comforting sense of organization to this place. 

The cassettes are sorted by genre, with rock and roll on one old, metal shelf, soul and R&B on another, and jazz and blues on yet another. 

This is the kind of place that reminds me of home, of a simpler time when music was something you held in your hands and cherished.

Somehow I call Flashback cassettes a second home to me. I still remember when I first walked in, the atmosphere was comforting yet all the dust and that horrid smell made my lungs feel queasy.

 It still is comforting.

It was one of the first days of summer at the end of senior year, the sun was blaring hot and my mind was full of new freedom and ideas.

I set foot into the shop to apply for a job, this seemed to be the only place that was hiring at the time. Jackie, my boss, the girl with red colored hair and 58 nose piercings, and the owner of the shop decided to take me under her wing. 

I'm now forever grateful, I can afford a decent flat, my phone bill, and food. My parent's house is now far behind me, always lingering in my far-away memories.

I'm Yuuri Katsuki, I'm 19 years old and recently moved out of my parent's house. I'm a proud employee of flashback cassettes and a cherry cola enthusiast. My slicked-back dark hair, rip-off ray bans, and leather jacket made me the picture of a troubled youth with nothing to live for.

Yet that was my label.

To myself, I was so much more and when I save enough money I want to open a roller skating disco, uniting the lonely hearts of the world. I love drawing, dancing, and of course, roller skating. I still need to find a way to fund my hobbies.

 The year right now is 1981 and my life still stinks of a seventies groove. ABBA is consistently a member of the playlist I listen to on my walkman while dancing in my room.

And that's pretty much it up till here, I have friends. Few, but they're there.

I consider my closest friend to be Phitchit. He has a warm and inviting demeanor, which matches his caramel skin tone perfectly. His charcoal hair is styled in a casual yet effortlessly chic way, framing around his face and adding to his charm.

He has a love for small animals, especially hamsters, and his outgoing personality makes him the life of the party. (remember Instagram didn't exist yet) Somehow, he made friends with me, always dragging me to parties and what not. 

You can always spot him with a cherry lollipop in his mouth, adding a pop of color to his overall look.

His fashion sense is the definition of trendy and relaxed, with a preference for neon baggy T-shirts that show off his youthful energy. He pairs these with high-waisted jeans, which accentuate his slim physique and give him a modern vibe.

We met last year when I went to rent out my small flat but unsurprisingly, at the last second my landlord said I would be having a roommate. I didn't really have a choice. 

I think that's illegal actually.

However, who cares. I'm not good with legal bullshit and I want to continue being his roommate either way.

Speaking of the devil, it's only now I hear the rusty shop bell give out a sharp 'DING' before shutting up again. When I look over to the glass double doors I expect to see my best friend and roommate. Yet, I can't figure out why it isn't  Phitchit who entered the shop. The only reason people come here is to see me. I'm not JJ or anything, it's just that nobody wants these old broken vinyls.

No, it's not Phitchit who entered my second home with the ring of a bell...