Toska

Chapter One: Going Under.

"Ah! Yakov!", Viktor's happy Russian voice spoke into his phone, his eyes never once leaving Yuuri who was situating himself on the ice. Two whole days had gone by since the big showdown between both the Japanese and Russian skaters. Yuuri's performance had practically left him faint, his legs quaking, unable to rip his eyes from his protégé. Was this how everyone else felt while they watched him skate? Without realising, Viktor had already closed his eyes, letting the memories flood back and wash over him. So soft and cleansing. He could almost see every onyx eye lash flicker as he winked at him. His little Katsudon had had the audacity to wink at him! For goodness sake, what was the world coming to? Viktor had loved it. Loved it so much a wolf whistle, that he hoped nobody had heard, escaped his parted lips.

Suddenly jerking his phone away from his ear, Viktor winced as he listened to Yakov's screams and shouts about where was Yuri. Wait, Yuuri? But, why would Yakov care about Yuuri? Yuuri was righ-.

Finally, Viktor shocked himself awake and out of his little daydream with the pain of his front teeth bitting his lower lip. What on earth did Yakov mean by where Yurio was? How was he supposed to know? The teen had left before the end of the competition and Yuko had later told him he had left, acknowledging his defeat before even giving Viktor the chance to judge. The newly debuted coach of Yuuri Katsuki couldn't help but have mixed feelings about it in all honesty; since when did Yuri Plisetsky back off quietly? He had warned the teen, urged him to go back home, that he wasn't ready. Was it that hard for him to understand that Viktor was not in any condition to give him what he needed?

It was good wasn't it? That Yurio had finally chosen to heed his words? It was just, well, the manner and moment he had heeded Viktor's words nagged at the man, pulling at the strings of his subcounscious. Had Yuuri's magic on him been that obvious? Either way, Viktor had to concentrate. He could not allow his mind to wander, especially with the angry russian barking down into his ear.

"What do you mean Yurio never got on his flight?", Viktor repeated, confused, staring blankly ahead, not really seeing anything. Yurio was not in St. Petersburg nor was he in Hasetsu. So.. where? "I have to go." was all Viktor replied with, cutting Yakov off before he could finish taking his breath to set off another stampede of yells and curses at his irresponsiblity. Yes, Viktor was fully aware Yurio was only just sixteen, in fact, Yurio was not even sixteen yet. Fifteen, barely able to speak Japanese, clearly not on the flight back home. Just over forty-eight hours had gone by since he had last seen the kid.

Forty-eight long hours.

Where was Yuri Plisetsky?

For the first time in forever, Viktor cursed aloud, the bottom of his fist coming down on the side of the ice rink's banister; the skidding of Yuuri's skates against the ice came to a sudden stop. Viktor's cold eyes suddenly yanked his way towards the exit, and then at Yuuri, weighing his options. Forty-eight hours was such a long time, there was no point in going out to search for the blond. He, Viktor prayed it was just Yurio living up to his punk persona and had not actually, well, what was the worst that could happen to a foreign looking, loud mouthed, obnoxious fifteen year old? Too many bad things. That was for sure.

"Practice is over.", Viktor's voice rivalled Russian winters, his eyes were colder than snow itself. Cold. Dangerous. Lethal. "Yurio's missing."

_ _ _ _ _ _

The first thing the blond woke up to was a the stinging sensation on his cheek, as his eyes blurred, unable to focus on anything, blinking groggily. Sorting through his thoughts, was hard, as if he were trying to wade his way through cement that had nearly dried and quicksand simultaneously. The instant his eyes opened, Yuri had snapped them closed, so quickly, it was too bright. Wherever he was, was too bright. Forcing his eyes open again out of pure willpower, Yuri frowned, squatting against the light as he waited for his pupils to contract enough so burning would stop. As suddenly as it had started, the burning stopped, some form of shadow had covered his eyes, was that, was that a hand..?