All About Us [Yuri Katsuki x Reader]

108 - Idiosyncrasy

His breathing came out ragged. His eyes were looking in one direction, straight ahead and yet he saw nothing at all. The pain of the fall was nothing. After a moment, he pushed himself off the ice and stood. He dusted himself off, the bits of ice that clung onto him was biting to the touch. He shuddered as he tried to catch his breath. He was bent over, his hands planted on his knees, trying to gain a semblance of stability. His whole world was spinning. It was spinning so fast he could not keep up. His feet were sore and yet he paid them no mind at all.

The rink was enveloped in with a heavy stillness, a bitter silence. The only sound that has been echoing in his head was the sound of his blades cutting through the ice. The cold licked at his face and crept under his clothes, spreading across his skin like the lacy tide on a frigid winter beach. The biting sensation chilled his fingers into clumsy numbness. 

This wasn't the sort of coldness he was used to.

Yuri has been going through the same routine for hours now. But as of right now, he has lost his sense of time. Minutes? Hours? It didn't matter. He was too far gone. He was lost in his own little world, one that is falling apart, one that he couldn't keep together. He was falling apart, the little bits of himself were being torn at the seams.

He went through the routine again, that is, if you could even call it a routine. He had been doing nothing but glide around the rink and do a few jumps only for him to fall every single time. The wind cut through his skin as he moved. The edge of his skates pushed him forward as it scratched the smooth surface. His breathing was labored, rigid. Sweat trickled down his face. He was poising himself for another jump.

The pain was still there. It clung to him with a vengeance, its grip was deathly tight, not wanting to let go. Another battle that he knew could not be won. He was going to do a quadruple Salchow. With the ache in his chest, it was hard to concentrate.

He fell. He was alone. The need to get back up was lost to him. What was the point? He was going to fall again anyway so what was the point of even trying? His hands clenched into fists, his knuckles were white.

The unwanted feeling swirled around him like a storm, inkling bleak reminders of his solitude. The silence echoing in his ears was a constant white noise that never shut up.

He had come for solitude. He wanted to avoid everyone,  he pushed them away. The chasm that he had dug out himself was beginning to grow bigger and bigger. He had anticipated this with such relish. The rink was supposed to be his refuge, the ice his confidante and yet he felt so horribly lost. The feeling greeted him like an old friend. It was nothing new. It was like getting used to being beaten. Being here became an anguish rather than a salve for his wounded heart.

His thoughts were that of you.

His world was empty. His body was screaming for rest. The pain that racked through his body reminded him. His mind was filling him with thoughts, this was all just a horrible dream he has yet to wake up from.

He did not want any of this to happen. He did not want to have to lose you, to cause you pain...and  now, he did not even know where you were. He had been losing sleep, he had been skipping meals. He was agonizing on the thought of losing you. 

This...this was his fault.

Even the smallest of things reminded him of you. It was painful. Ever since the competition, there were days when he feared that you were gone and then your faint signal comes through. Anyway to hear you, to see you was good enough for him. And now...you were gone, out of his sight, out of his reach.

He was wracked with a profound longing. The sorrow grew stronger every day you were away. The hollowness of the rink was a constant reminder of what he has lost. Everyday was now measured from the moment he gets out of bed and go into this new reality until his body was aching, sore and could take no more. A new day greets him and he responds like a climber grips their rope, holding fast despite the pain. It was pain, it was grief. He could feel his grip loosen every single day.

Why did it have to come to this? He wished that he could have been better...

This was all his fault. This was all his fault. This was all his fault...

He was depressed and yet he had willed himself to come out here and be reminded. It was unseen and unheard. It was something that he has been trying to cope up with for as long as he could remember. He could not escape it no matter how hard he tries because it followed him around like a shadow, eating him alive. A sense of deja vu swept over him, as the ghosts of his yesterday paraded around him and within him, a sneaky reminder of all the times he had spent here with you, struggling to keep breathing when his entire body seemed to sag with exhaustion and numbed agony.

He could no longer take it. Something wet fell on the top of his hands and then on the ice. Tears started to trail down his cheeks. This was nothing new. Crying had always been something that he had done before, a healthy release when everything else gets to him. It was merely a habit now. He let them fall shamelessly, not doing a thing to stop them. They splashed down with a certain pattern, like the beginnings of rain. The sadness flowed through his veins and deadened his mind. It was a poison to his already broken spirit, dulling him down killing off his other emotions until it was the only one that remained. Breathy gasps reverberated through the empty rink.

He could feel the throbbing of his eyes and the vibration in his ears. His fingers were still curled tightly, his nails were digging into his palm.

The thoughts accelerated inside his head. His thoughts were a carousel of fears spinning out of control. Where were you? He wanted them to slow down so that he could keep up. He felt as if he were bound by ropes. His breathing soon came faster in shallow gasps and he felt like he could black out. His heart was hammering inside his chest like it belonged to a rabbit running for its skin. The whole place began to spin and his vision swam, blurred with tears. The wave of panic starts out as thin cellophane and all too soon it became a tidal wave, creeping higher and higher until he was sure he would drown. An invisible hand clasps itself over his mouth and Adrenalin pierced through his chest. He was no longer in control of his own thoughts. He was scared and tired at the same time, it was hard to explain. He drew his knees closer to his chest as he sat there in the middle of the rink. 

He wanted to cry out but he knew he couldn't because he only wanted to cry out for you. He needed you badly. He wished you were there to talk him through this, to hear your voice again. He wanted to be in your embrace again, he felt the safest there. He wanted to see you smiling at him and telling him that he'll get through this and he would believe you because you said so and he would believe you.

He was a fool.

Why was it when everything is falling apart, that was the only time some things fall into place?

His tears continued to fall as he let out a shuddering breath, a whisper of regret, a cry of longing, a silent plea echoed throughout the rink.

Idiosyncrasy

(n.) A behavior or way of thinking that is characteristic to a person.