Rookie Mistakes [Yuri Plisetsky x OC] One Shot

They kissed.

They definitely kissed.

On live TV.

With millions of people watching.

What the actual hell.

Were they crazy? What were they thinking? Were they even?

The tabloids had blown up with rumours that were getting incrementally more ridiculous.

"Yuuri Katsuki's Hidden Theme."

"Forbidden Love on Ice."

"The Rostelecom Cup: Passionate Nights Await in Moscow."

The ambiguous shot showed up on 2-page spreads in every sports magazine available. Any spectators who had caught the incident on their mobiles were highly encouraged to upload and submit their content to their local newsrooms. Just imagine all the wild stories the journalists could spin with the incoming flood of not-at-all-questionable sources.

Sports channels held at-length discussion segments, trying—but failing—to piece together an accurate depiction of the relationship between the Japanese skater and the Russian coach. Stories from both Victor's and Yuuri's junior skating days were dug up and meticulously reviewed for similarities that would lend further evidence to the type of relationship they were purported to have.

Then there was the issue of Victor's Unofficial Fan Club, where a full blown civil war had broken out with fan reactions ranging from vehement death threats – directed towards Yuuri – to sexually explicit fan-made art and fiction portraying the skater and coach in highly compromising positions.

Fuck. Were they stupid? How could they not have anticipated this? Did they think the press would just leave them alone? Would just abandon such a scrumptious, rare opportunity to pry into the personal lives of two of the most internationally celebrated athletes? An opportunity that Yuuri and Victor themselves had instigated?!

What was wrong with them? Weren't they bothered by all the rumours, all the attention? How could they expect to go anywhere without being harassed even more so than they already were for being famous?

"Hey Lana, are you listening?" Yuri's sharp tone cut through my aggravating thoughts.

"Huh?" I replied. The confusion and slight annoyance in my voice gave me away.

We were currently making our way towards the Star Hotel, the designated lodging for the Rostelecom Cup's figure skaters. After disappearing from the airport, Yuri had spent the remainder of the afternoon with his grandfather. He had been on his way back to the hotel when he had spotted me on the street. I, on the other hand, had just been returning from a walk to clear my head (counterproductive, now that the source of my turmoil was here). Claiming it was less conspicuous to walk than drive, Yuri had hastily jumped out of the vehicle to accompany me, waving goodbye to his grandfather in the process.

The Russian Yankee now paused for a second, studying my expression. He frowned.

"What the hell's been up with you lately?"

"What do you mean? I'm fine." I took care not to meet his gaze. He could always tell when I was lying.

"You've been spacing out all week. Yakov chewed you out this morning for not skating in time with the music. Rookie mistake. You don't make those, Lana."

I chanced a glance at my long-term rink mate.

Rookie mistake.

His stupidly turquoise eyes stared right back at me, and I felt my legs go weak. I faltered mid-step.