Lone Wolf (Yuri on Ice AU)

Intro I

Intro
Viktor's POV

"Mom I don't need this..." I mutter halfheartedly once more, my eyes following my loving mother as she throws various types of clothes into a large bag of luggage. Two bags filled with similar necessaries and luxuries lay beside the occupied one. Both sitting straight up with handles pointed up to the sky. All one would need to do was wrap their hand around the cold metal and walk. Walk to where they wanted to flee to. Walk to where they wanted to vacation to.

Walk to a prison hidden under the label 'School For Troubled Children' or whatever it was.

"Viktor, you do understand why we are doing this. I know you do." My mother tiredly mumbles, her light blue eyes turning to offer me a look of understanding. For the millionth time, I found myself gawking at her beauty. With Snow White hair falling down to her butt and eyes that matched the worlds prettiest oceans, it wasn't hard to see why dad fell for her. "Your outburst Friday scared a lot of people."

Mother smiled gently at me before turning back to the task at hand. Too preoccupied with my clothes, she turns back to the closet and begins to sift through the now emptied space. Her eyes scan corner to corner for anything I had missed while packing myself.

My usually neat closet looked like a war zone. Hangers hung limply in the dark corner of my room. The door was left half open, flung to the side with my own past anger and my mother's rush to get everything together.

It had been a rather odd few days, that was for sure.

"It was one mistake!" I call out, groaning dramatically as I fell back against my fluffy comforter. The bed I lay on was lumpy and aged, the mattress unchanged even with years of overuse. No matter how comfortable it was, the dip halfway down always set you on edge. One imperfection on a mountain of clouds I called mine.

A low, almost silent chuckle from my mother could be picked out only seconds after my answer. I could imagine familiar lines forming along her forehead. Wrinkles of frustration, she called them. Frustration at me. Apparently, I caused my mother more stress than most of her other children ever had.

"A mistake that landed you in jail for a couple of hours." My mother's usually soft voice called out almost harshly. Her well-hidden anger seemed to seep through cracks of her words. A padding sound filled the room as she decided I had packed enough clothes. She was heading straight for me.

One glance revealed her signature worry pose. She leaned over me just slightly, arms crossed over her chest loosely. Her eyebrows were knitted together almost annoyingly, lips pursed just enough to be noticeable from this distance.

That look.

We all know it. Most teenagers have gotten that look from their parents at least twice. It got adults what they wanted. The worry - some sometimes disappointment - it seemed to portray made any teen fear the magic of their parents. That look could make a weak teen spill their darkest secret.

"Mom..." I sigh, forced to look away as she warily watched me. Her eyes just seemed to turn every situation around on me. The anger that had begun to boil in my stomach sizzled out. Suddenly steaming water turned to churning stones. Guilt. I felt guilty. "I didn't mean to hurt anyone. I was just mad..."

I felt the bed sag gently from beside me, a creak screeching through the room as my mother sat down beside me. With the sudden feeling of her hand on my leg, I knew what was going to come next. A soft sigh from the women beside me only re-enforced my theory.

"That's exactly why your father and I have decided this school is going to be good for you." Mother whispers softly. Her tone lacked any negative emotion. No matter how mad she Obviously was, she made sure I wouldn't pick up on a lick of it. "You changed after Jake passed and we are all worried for you."

Her voice seemed to coo at me, almost pitying with its tone and pitch. Of course, it was pity.

Wasn't it always?

That's all I was at this moment. In this town.

Pitied.

I was the one who lost his best friend. The child who couldn't get past his terrible and gruesome loss.

The child who was broken enough to feel the need to lash out when his friend's name was mentioned...

It seemed as if I would never get past that night... no one would let me.

One name and my mood did a full 180.

Another creak filled the room, this time from me. My mother's hand fell silently to the soft fabric of my comforter as I shifted from my back to my side. Too long legs slipped through cheap metal bars of the bed's bottom frame, hanging over lazily.

In front of my vision was a picture of the very person my mother was babbling about.

Jake Tow.

Star student once upon a time. The type to make straight A's on every report card and still manage to hate himself for bad grades. Every award sat right on the shelf he had plastered above his bed. Perfection radiate from the kid... who also just happened to be my best friend.

From the picture on my nightstand, his startlingly good looks were apparent. Black hair hung crazily to one side of his tan face, light blue eyes like my own shining through. His smile was soft yet perfect, his skin shining yet just dull enough to not raise suspicion. In his hand was a plaque like the hundreds he already owned. First place was written in annoyingly gold letters across the top of it.

Beside him stood me. Long silver hair was pulled back in a ponytail. The hairstyle had been one of my most favorite at the time. I held out a peace sign in front of my face, one arm thrown around Jake's shoulder. My albino-like skin and Silver hair stood out against Jake's darker look. My eyes were closed and hiding the one trait we had in common.

My mother fell silent as I let her hand drop to the comforter. There was an understanding between us, no matter how strained it was. Jake was something she didn't speak of. He was just something no one needed to speak of.

I could feel my mother's hand retreated from the bed as she sat up straight. She would leave me alone to wallow and pout however much I needed.

"Give the school a chance Viktor. One month and you can come home if you wish..." My mother whispered softly, patting my shoulder before standing from the noisy bed.

I could hear her pad softly along my carpeted floor. At the door I could picture her audible pause, eyes looking back at me with worry wrinkles taking place of the frustrated ones.

My ears picked up on her sudden intake of breath, my body instantly groaning at the anticipated question. A pause followed.

"Your plane leaves at four in the morning. That gives you about two hours to rest and get ready, I expect to see you at the door on the hour..."

The next thing I heard was the closing of my bedroom door.