'Yura, or Yuria, obviously. Could it not be more obvious?' Yuri--Yura-- replied.
'That's rad. Are any of you guys hungry?' Phichit smiled, tapping his fingers on the kitchen counter.
'Oh, yeah definitely. I am,' Viktor grinned and nodded vehemently.
'I'll make something,' Yuuri added quietly, moving to the fridge to get things out.
'Don't be silly, I'll help you,' Viktor followed behind Yuuri.
'Really? Okay, can you put water in this saucepan, and set it to...a low simmer on the stove please?' Yuuri handed him said saucepan after getting it from some place.
'Uh, y-yeah. Sure, I can do that, it's easy,' Viktor laughed nervously. Yuuri was too busy to notice Viktor struggling to do such a simple task, as he was already boiling water and putting salt in it.
Phichit watched with a small smile, carelessly daydreaming about what colour wedding dress would suit Yuuri. Probably blue.
Yura was on her phone, scrolling through the art hashtag. She came across a drawing done by a person called 'otabek.altyn'. The caption was someone I used to know.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
It looked a lot like her. If anything, it was her.
Did this Otabek know who she was?
Was he stalking her?
Phichit noticed the worried look on Yura's face. He ventured to ask her what was wrong.
'I...I don't know,' she replied, her voice a ghost of a whisper, and turned her phone screen towards Phichit.ara
'Oh, nice! It looks like you. Is that artist who drew it your friend?' He hummed, and Yura shook her head slowly. Phichit's eyes grew wide.
'OMG, you have a stalker! Eek! Everyone, Yura has a stalker!' squealed Phichit, waving his hands in the air in a dramatic fashion.
'Say, what?' Viktor asked, turning around from where he and Yuuri were working on making food.
'Yuria has a stalker,' Phichit repeated the information, even more dramatically.
'Yuria..?' Yuuri called out, confused.
'Yeah. Some guy drew me,' Yuria replied.
'Oh. Um...Do you know them?' Yuuri asked.
'No, but the name seems awfully familiar,' Yuria tapped her chin.
Then she remembered.
'Stretch!' screeched Yura's ballet instructor. Yuria did as instructed, then proceeded to grab hold of a bar to steady her as she lifted her leg back and up so it almost reached the back of her without her having to move it. This stretch was simple, easy.
A frustrated sound escaped the lips of the newest member of the novice ballet class.
Otabek Altyn.
He had been in the more advanced class, but his teacher had deemed him unfit for it, thus he was moved to this class. He seldom talked to anyone, except Yuria to ask her some question about posture or the like.
'Altyn!' the instructor called out, walking towards the Kazakh man.
An exasperated look flashed briefly across Otabek's face before being replaced by a hardened, blank expression.
Yuria watched as the teacher berated him for not having proper form, etc. Otabek saw her looking and frowned slightly. Yuria looked away.
He never showed up after that class.
'He... he was in my ballet class a few years ago, one that Yakov had put me in. I don't know why, but he seemed to think that ballet wasn't a girly thing. Anyways, Otabek, he stopped showing up after about a month of lessons. He supposedly lives in Canada.'
Everyone was pensive. No one knew quite what to say.
'Do you... do you think he...felt something for you...?' Yuuri said after a moment's hesitation.
'I don't know. He was an introvert, never talked to anyone' Yura shrugged. That seemed unlikely, and too cliché to be true. Yura sighed, and everyone sat in silence as Yuuri and Viktor finished preparing the food, though Viktor mostly stood there looking clueless most of the time.
Some fifteen minutes later, Yuuri and Viktor produced a delicious (Japanese) traditional breakfast of Miso soup and white rice.
'Does anyone want some tea?' Yuuri asked. Phichit accepted the offer.
Soon, the four people were eating, making mindless conversation.
Then Viktor realised he hadn't fed Makkachin since the previous night before he'd crashed Yuuri's house.
He excused himself and left.
Opening the door into his apartment, he was met by a wagging tail and joyous bark.
'Makkachin, you little angel, how are you? I bet you're real hungry, huh?' Viktor cooed as he ruffled the dog's hair, and walked into the kitchen to get the dog food.
He smiled, watching as the poodle ate the food hungrily.
Yuuri had told him his friend Phichit could help with their job situation. Now, Viktor was wondering how exactly he could help.
Phichit had given him his number while they were eating, stating very seriously that he needed it in case of a 'Yuurimergency'.
'Makkachin, are you done eating?' Viktor asked his dog in a babyish way.
As if to say yes, Makkachin barked and wagged his tail endearingly.
Viktor picked him up, and said, 'We're gonna go visit mummy, okay? Mummy Yuuri will be so happy to see you.'
Makkachin licked Viktor in the face playfully, and the Russian laughed.
He opened the front door and walked out, heading back to Yuuri's.