Left Behind

Chapter 1

Yuuri rested his back against the kotatsu that he had placed after moving aside tables in the dining room and sighed. A week ago it had been his birthday, he was now thirty. He hadn't really celebrated that day, what was the point since he was pretty much by himself.

Makkachin wandered into the room and made his way lazily over to Yuuri. Makkachin had gotten older as the years had passed, the fur around his muzzle growing grey fur and wrinkles forming around his eyes; He maybe had a year left. Yuuri relaxed slightly as Makkachin rested his head in his lap. He pet the old poodles ears gently and took a quick glance around the room. There usually weren't many guests, But recently there hadn't been any, leaving Yuri to spend his day being lazy around the resort.

He stared at the TV ahead of him, He didn't have it on. He hadn't turned it on for 7 years, Knowing that some how or another he would end up seeing his face, hearing his name, learning how well he was doing without him. Yuuri glanced down at his left hand and felt some of the memories flood back into his mind. His heart ached, It always did when he remembered. He reached his other hand up and grasped the matching ring that hung around his neck on a silver chain.

He released the chain and pat Makkachin twice on the head then gently manoeuvred the dogs head out of his lap and onto a pillow that he had found beside him and moved over for the old dog. He got up slowly and made his way the reception desk. He opened up the log and his eyes widened. There hadn't been a guest in almost 10 months. He couldn't believe it, how could he have not noticed. He saw drops of water hit the paper below him and blinked; He hadn't even realized he was crying. He felt his legs give out a little and clutched the desk. He looked up through watery eyes and finally took a good look around.

The dimly lit lobby was covered in blankets, pillows littering the ground. He walked around the desk and made his way to the bar, running a finger over the metal and pulling it back to see a patch of dust on his finger. Alcohol bottles were lying a round, some empty and some unopened. He started to walk down the hallway, noticing the rooms that seemed to hold only blankets and pillows, even the one with Vicchan's small shrine.

He walked into the open air hot spring and stopped in his tracks. The water wasn't steaming, the frog fountain wasn't pouring water; everything looked, dead. He slowly stepped forward and crouched down. He dipped a finger into the green tinted water and a shiver went through him. cold.

He saw his reflection slightly in the murky water and stood up quickly. He ran back into the resort and started opening any door he saw. He needed a sign, a sign that it wasn't true, it couldn't be true. He had taken care of it, hadn't he? He could remember. He would clean, converse with guests, even cook a little, but how long ago was that. He stopped just as he made his way back into the dining room. The tables and the room were covered in blankets and as he felt his foot nudge a pillow, the last 11 month came rushing back to him.

He had heard a guest mention Victor and soon everyone in the dining room had been talking about him. Something about training, something about a gold medal, and something about a fiancé. Immediately he had become depressed, stopped taking care of the resort and costumers had stopped coming. He would go to the store everyday to buy food and would see the same sale: buy a blanket, get a pillow for free. He would buy a blanket everyday, maybe even two or three, and after 6 months he stopped buying essentials; only cup ramen and blankets. He would bring them home and toss them down somewhere. The resort soon became filled, each room full of the different patterned blankets with matching pillows.

He wrapped his arms around his stomach for some sort of comfort and gasped as he felt his ribs poke his arms. He had only been eating a cup of ramen a day for the past soon to be four months. He stumbled forward back to the kotatsu and sat down clumsily. He looked straight ahead into the TV and saw his reflection. Lifeless long hair, thin face, and dark circles under his eyes. Had he been sleeping? He couldn't remember. His hands started to shake and he balled them into fists. He let out a weak cry and began to throw anything around him he could, That only being pillows.

One of the pillows he threw hit the TV remote that had rested on one of the tables. The remote fell and the TV was switched on. Yuuri stopped and stared at the screen, dropping the two pillows in his hands. Static, white noise, and a white glow of the pixelated snow came from the TV . He only then noticed the room had gotten darker. He fell to the ground and curled up into a ball, covering his ears. Makkachin, who had been laying where he previously was left before, finally pulled himself up slowly and shakily, took the couple of steps over to where Yuuri lay. The poodle rested it's head on Yuuri's side and Yuuri let himself cry silently.

What has my life become.