Yuri and Otabek had been friends for about six months now, after meeting again during the Grand Prix season. Two months after the final, Otabek had moved into an apartment in Moscow when Yakov volunteered to coach him, after his former coach passed away.
After that, Yuri and Otabek began to spend a considerable amount of time together, whether it was staying at Otabek's house, walking around Moscow or at practice. The two of them were basically inseparable.
Yuri and Otabek had just finished training for the day, and were taking off their skates in the locker room.
Yuri faced away from Otabek as he pulled off his socks, not wanting him to see if his feet looked as horrible as they felt. They did. They were covered in blisters and scratches and bruises. Yuri swore under his breath and pulled on other socks, then his shoes, ignoring the stabbing pain as he did.
"What's wrong?" Otabek asked, hearing him swear. He swore quietly when something was wrong.
"Nothing." Yuri said quickly, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. Otabek frowned more, knowing that Yuri was lying, but decided to ask him about it when they got to his house. "You're so slow, Beka." Yuri complained, standing by the door. Otabek rolled his eyes and put his skates in his bag.
"I'm done," He said, standing.
"Приехать," Yuri said, opening the door.
"I am," Otabek said, walking through.
He and Yuri walked in silence to his motorcycle, Otabek noticing how Yuri limped like every step hurt. They put their bags in the little compartment under the seat and Otabek put a helmet on Yuri. When he clipped it, Yuri's hair got caught.
"Ой, Beka," Yuri said, pulling away.
"Sorry," Otabek apologized, unclipping the helmet. Yuri moved his hair out of the way and Otabek clipped it again, this time without getting Yuri's hair stuck.
