Voice | Yuri On Ice!! | Yuri Plisetsky

Prologue

A/N

' ' Your or a character's thinking, this is where subconscious mind thinks.

" " Voices of others,

** Sound effects

Sign language

Texts/written text

Important information

Yuri Plisetsky has one "u"

Yuuri Katsuki has two "u's "

Don't worry, soon Yuri will be called Yurio.

Yuri's signature word is "HAAAAA??" So, I'll be using that.

(L/N) Last name. (Y/N) Your name. (If you do not want to use your real name, you can use Tsunari Suzukami. (First name and last name) )

Note: This series contains depressing talks, actions etc. Proceed with caution....

ENJOY :)

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Yuri Plisetsky received silver for the Skating Junior championship, my dad seemed to be fond of him. I overheard mum saying that I should stay away from him. I sighed under my breath and ignored her last words. Someone honked our car, what happened next was too hard to remember. There were flashing lights of blue and red, noises, screams, apologies, regrets.

I'm sure I woke up to a dull room later hooked to wires? I lied back down and just stared at the dusk sky imprinted onto my window. It was so peaceful. A high pitched scream followed by sobs out the door crawls into my ears. I then realised my left leg was missing. A part of me, too, faded out that day.

I then lived with my aunty, who was never married, when I was released from the hospital. She was a billionaire alongside with my mum. She gifted me an artificial leg, she was too selfish to buy me a real one. Aunty was a model, my mum was a singer, my dad was a professional skater, I was a broken kid in a broken family. On my 9th birthday, aunty went out to buy me some presents. I waited with patience, but she never came back. It was then reported that she was murdered by an obsessed fan.

I was then sent to my cousin who was around his early twenties. He lived alone since his parents, which was my dad's sister, died from cancer and his dad left him because it was a teen pregnancy case. He would focus on studies and ignore me. Now that I rethink about it, he injects possibly heroin into his veins. This obnoxious man would yell and mistreat me when I disobeyed. I was relatively a good student, and once I turned 11, an ambulance arrived, and so did the cops. They questioned me about abuse, but I did what I was told. That cousin of mine died from a drug overdose. I since taped my mouth.

Soon, I was taken to my grandfather who was a severe alcoholic ever since his only blood related daughter died, which was my mother. He never wanted to get to know me, and so did I. We were living in the same place, but in different worlds. His food was garbage, but I couldn't complain, he was the last of my family. He would always be willing to shove his homemade food into my throat. Squealing and resisting would always be in vain. We got into an argument and he left. I went to find him, but returned with nothing. I reported this incident to the police once again. In the next month or so, I've lost hope that he'd still be alive. I spent my 13th birthday alone. The police came back soon saying they found him, decaying in the lake. He was possibly murdered by a robber or a psychopath, but it is still a mystery to this day.

Now, here I am, in an abandoned house filled with torturing slideshows of the past plaguing a theatre and running in a loop. The only difference was I was the only audience, waiting for "forever" to end. Out of self pity, I grabbed a paper and a greasy knife. Scribbling with my blood, I wrote my last note to the world.

I found an electrical wire and hung it around a durable lamp. 'So, what if I died?' I began to wobble on a chair, 'It's not like anyone would care anyways.' I swallow, possibly the last one in this life, 'It's not like my existence...' My neck extends to the noose, 'Makes any difference to this world.'

I kick the chair. It's like a pair of hands growing out from hell choke you. That moment was an immediate regret. But I've already done it, so there was no turning back.

'(F/N), do you remember who you are?'

No, I don't.

'(F/N), did you ever feel happy when someone dies?'

No, I didn't.

'(F/N), but I'd always see that smirk hiding behind your mask.'

No, you didn't.

'I did. And I liked it.'

Why?

'Because I like you, we are the same person, I have regrets, way too many to count.'

Ya?

'You are cursed.'

So what?

'You are useless'

So what?

'You have a terrible voice.'

So what?

'You have nothing good to say'

So what?

'You are dying.'

So what?

It's not like anyone would come and save me.

The wire untangles from the lamp and I fall face first onto the concrete floor. 'No one came...' I gagged. 'I really am nothing.' coughs soon died into cries, slowly and silently. 'There's nothing humane left in me.' I curled in, 'I fell.' After regaining consciousness, I stumbled to the ripped and tainted sofa, 'There's no one here to help.' I sigh as drops of my inner self slips down my cheeks, 'So I'd rather take the easier way out.'

A knock echoed outside the door, I answered and in came an officer that commanded me to pack up my belongings. I did as told. While in the vehicle, he said that a family has decided to have me for now, since I'm underaged, until they find a suitable family to permanently adopt me. How could I argue with him? I did call in and explained my existence.

Yuri Plisetsky, a famous young figure skater in all of Russia. A fourteen year old, with blond hair and green eyes. In the championship, he came second, I came first. His anger said it all, but my father and his mother talked. We didn't shake hands, nor even said a word. Since the accident, I never dared touch ice again.

Turns out,  someone named Nikolai was in charge of this. He wanted me to live with his family until the adoption centre finds an acceptable family for me.

However, instead of arriving at the correct destination, I was sent to an ice rink instead. There I meet the most well-known skater, Victor Nikifrov. They load my luggage onto someone's car as I explore somewhere that I haven't entered in years. There the first person I see was a man in a felt hat scolding someone oddly familiar leaning against the rink. I walk forward for my curiosity.

"You need to be more focused, do you hear me?!" The enraged man with the hat yells.

The boy disregards the wise words from this man and sips water.

'He looks familiar...'

"Oh! (F/N)!"

Looking back, I see a man from the seats. The man have grey and black hair, mingled together and is wearing a flat beret.

'Who the heck is this old man?'

"(F/N)! You're finally here! Let me introduce Yuratchka here, I'm sure that you two would get along!"

The mention of this name drops a weighty rock onto my back.

The blond kid scoffs, "(F/N)? That dumbass from five years ago?"

...

The blond scoffs, kicking the rink, "So, this is the person that'd be living with us?"

And for the first time in a while, that dull and colourless mask of your's crack and longed for light.

VOICE, to be continued~