A Viktor's prize

Twenty-eight

I KNOOOOOOOOWWWW it's been forever T^T but you should all now by now I never have a plan and I'll write when inspiration strikes XD

"You're getting too old for this" Chris commented, putting thought to words as Viktor peeled back the thin layer of slipper socks from his feet. The elastic material served to conceal the painful mounds of blistering skin making an ugly mess of what once were the pillars of his strength.

"Do I really look thirty?" The platinum haired male asked even as his attention remained on each misshapen gash – fingertips grazing the scarred over sores.

In truth his mind was elsewhere, a smile forcing the slight upward tilt of his lips at the image of Yuuri's blatant admiration of him.

"Twenty-eight."

"Hmm?"

"Twenty-eight,' Chris corrected from where he stood in the doorway, duffel bag slung casually over his shoulder – eager to leave the studio for the day.

It was unrealistic to have been teaching for as long as he had and somehow still have any sort of expectations for their students. Had he paid close attention he would've known that Yurio's movements would be erratic – sharp even – as though his anger was a living, breathing being – an infection making his blood boil and see the world through a red looking-glass.

Despite his lack of grace and lack of emotional capacity the instructors were able to silently acknowledge his naturally flexible physique. Where his movements were flawed and easily comparable to that of a one-legged pigeon there was no denying the fact that the fiery-tempered male possessed a natural ability that allowed him to execute a perfect split. Only through the comparison of a mythical being – a fairy seemed the most plausible – could one understand and appreciate the beauty and inhuman perfection behind the seemingly simple exercise.

Should the hyperbole fail to convince you of such an undeniable fact then I would ask you to consider the almost comical silence that hushed the entirety of the room and its occupants as each individual spent the next sixty seconds to admire and feed Yurio's ego with awestruck expressions and string of incoherent praises.

Yurio knew he was good and he didn't fail to rub it in everyone's faces. There was just something so empowering about being so much better then those older then you.

Similar things could be said about the others.

Minami – The embodiment of youth and a thirteen-year-old yaoi fan's idea of a uke. However, like many clichés he lacked long-term focus.

Seung gil – The perfect combination of jock and closet gay – attentive, mysterious, focused but lacked charm and stamina.

Otabek – With an intimidation factor of 100 and a 0 for social skills Otabek proved to be stoic and persistent. However, he failed to express any sort of emotion both in his movements and his face.

Phichit – Like a kid in a candy store the Thai male showed eagerness, positivity and an ability to pick things up quickly. However, he lacked any sort of sensuality which was ironic considering the sex.

And then there was Yuuri.

Had there been time to spare, Chris could have come up with kinder words to summarize the male's inability to preform even at a basic level.

He lacked any sort of skill was putting it lightly.

Not only was he physically unsuited, he was the farthest thing from athletically capable. His movements sloppy, uncoordinated and distracting, his limbs lost in their own erratic rhythm. He lacked self-confidence and exposed his vulnerability, wearing it like a target as his frustration, self-doubt and humiliation were laid out for all too see in the heat of his cheeks and dew-like tears pooling at the corners of his eyes.