Starless Boys ☆ Yuri On Ice

Game Of Life

"The guys are coming down soon, can you fire some popcorn?" He ends the question with a cough, padding out of his room texting on his phone. He's barefoot, in sweats and nothing else.

"Yea sure" I try not to stare as I reach for the cupboard overhead. Yuuri isn't defined like Chris but a demanding job keeps him slim, toned here and there. 

"Hey, do you have a phone?" He asks, putting his own one face down on the counter.

"No" the thought of a phone disgusts me. Phones are just ways of being found. I don't want to be found.  I don't want to be called. My phone is at my father's house where it belongs. Other than repellent a phone was never any use to me. It's used to connect with friends and family. I have neither.

"Do you want one?" He asks like it's normal to ask. I pause with the popcorn box in my hand, raising an unimpressed brow.

"No Yuuri. You sound like my sugar daddy" the thought of it makes me laugh. Really he's put me up, payed for my meals, given me a job. He could qualify as one without being one at all.

"Hm I do. But that implies you're giving something back no?" The sexiest expression I've ever seen becomes his face as he walks by, trailing feather light fingers along the small of my back before going to turn on the tv.

I grip the counter. I take a deep breath.

As I close the microwave and set the time I can still feel his fingers there, marking my back. I turn to watch him standing in front of the tv, flicking channels. I map his back with my eyes, his shifting shoulder blades, the dimples at the small of his back, the way it dips so cleanly to an ass I can't believe I haven't noticed. It's perfect. I imagine doing the same to him, tracing his back, marking him like he marked me, maybe going lower.

"Are you thinking about it?" Jumping in suprise, I focus my eyes and see Yuuri watching me, smirk playing on his lips, probably having seen the way I just mentally drooled over him.

I thought kind Yuuri was too much to handle. This is worse. And better.

Before I can retort with some blatant lie the door bell rings; Yuuri answers and in come Otabek and Chris. The contrast in their greetings is incredible; while Chris happily says hello and hugs Yuuri Otabek walks straight passed him like he didn't even exist, sitting on the sofa and watching the commentator introduce Rostelecom. The other two are completely unfazed.

Wait. Rostelecom?

"We're watching ice skating?" Images flash; spotlights, bright flashes, loud voices, cameras and posters and fans and microphones. And the crippling fear of failing, the praying that a bruised ankle won't ruin everything you slaved to achieve.

Then the loss. How it feels to skate off, defeated, how it feels to let down your fans, the weightlessness of not having a medal around your neck, even if all it was was a noose, the humiliation of the kiss and cry, the hand that gripped bruises into the shoulder. 

The torture of arriving home, where no one could see what my coach really was, but I got all the pleasure.

"You didn't tell him?"

"I um, forgot" he scratches his neck sheepishly. I know he did it on purpose.

"I don't know if I want to watch this" I instinctively step back, feeling the counter press into my body.

"Aren't you cureous? About what's happening in the skating world? At least do it for Yura" Yuuri pleads, coming closer. He wants to help. I know he does. He wants to get me out of hiding, because hiding will never be safe as long as your enemy still lives.