Midnight Escapades || Yuuri x Viktor || AnimeTrashLord-007

Midnight Escapades

    His blades sliced across the ice, the sound echoing throughout the deserted stadium. Though it was the off season, Yuuri gave as much time as he could to his passion. Every chance he could steal, he would find his way onto a rink. He would slip away after dinner most nights to practice in solidarity. His early mornings weren't safe either; he would awaken every day at the crack of dawn just to feel his feet dance across that frozen plane he called his second home. Viktor didn't always approve of his midnight escapades as he would much rather spend the time together. After his many previous attempts to keep the skater to himself, however, he realised it was futile. While his pork cutlet bowl adored him with all of his heart, his love for figure skating couldn't be neglected for extended periods either. The only time he managed to retain his full attention was during their honeymoon, and after that the Japanese skater threw himself back into his work with even more vigor. Viktor admired his determination, it was such an integral part of Yuuri after all, and soon he chose to instead join him whenever his own duties allowed.

Tonight, however, was not one of those times and Yuuri found himself growing more paranoid with every passing moment. He couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't alone, even though the doors were locked. On occasion, Viktor would drop by to practice a routine or offer some outlandish idea to 'improve' his short program. Most of his ideas involved pushing Yuuri to his limits (which he didn't mind) but also lace and glitter (which he wasn't exactly fond of). Before departing that evening, he was informed by his beloved that he would be working late, narrowing the prospects of a surprise visit. His skin crawled with trepidation as he continued through his free skate. There could be no one else, he hadn't told anyone where he was skating that night and Viktor would have announced his presence with a wink and whistle by now. Landing his quadruple jumps with increasing precision, he tried to ignore the gnawing apprehension that seized the corners of his mind. The little figure he swore he saw seated within the darkness had to be an illusion, the soft laughter would just turn out to be his music echoing. It was a new arena, after all, and he had never tested how the music would resonate in such a large space. There was no way that he would allow such ridiculous thoughts and delusions affect his performance, so he powered through another combination spin. It wasn't until his music began to fade and he finished his program with arms reaching toward the heavens that true fear settled within the pit of his stomach. With a shriek, his fervent gaze scoured the entire room, searching for the source of the noise. There wasn't a single person in sight and yet he could without a doubt hear someone clapping. Each slap of their hands sent shivers down his spine as he tried to pinpoint the sound.

"Who's there? This is a private session, no one is meant to be here!" His voice cracked as he called out to the darkness, tension drawing his arms closer to his body in a tight hug. Eyes darting to and fro, he thought he could make out shapes that twirled and beckoned him but disappeared once his eyes adjusted to the lack of light.

He received no response other than an airy chuckle that he reassured himself was just the wind within the sealed room. His legs trembled as he raced across the rink. Yuuri wasn't a coward, but he wasn't stupid either and he didn't believe in tempting fate. When this happened in films, the worst thing to do was to wait around to be attacked. Tossing on his skate guards, he elected to leave his belongings and pick them up once the sun had risen. Viktor's jacket wasn't worth being maimed over (though his diva of a husband would disagree, it was custom made after all), and he had another copy of his musical composition at home. The item he desired most was his phone but, to his dismay, it had been left charging on his bedside table and offered no assistance in his current crisis. With no ability to call for help, he would have to rely on his athleticism and stamina once he reached an exit. He may not be as strong as a villain from those cliché slasher films, but his endurance could rival the best of them. He didn't stop to breathe, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he located the door. Fingers mere centimeters from grazing the handle, he gasped when it flung open and a figure bolted inside.

"YUURI!" A familiar voice boomed into his ear, tugging him into his outstretched arms with a relieved sigh.

"Vi-Viktor! What are you doing?" He mumbled into his husband's chest, his anxiety ebbing away with the newfound warmth.

"This stadium is haunted, Yuuri! That's why no one skates after dusk! You shouldn't have come alone! Did you see the ghosts? The locals say they screech all night! I told you to wait for me, I am your coach still after all and we should--"

"Don't be silly, Viktor. Ghosts aren't real," Yuuri bit his lip as he pulled back to stare up into those brilliant blue eyes, running a hand through his hair, "but I've finished, so let's go home!"

A grin spread across Viktor's face as he grabbed the younger man's hand, squeezing it within his own, "It's okay, Mr. Nikiforov, I'll protect my precious katsudon from the specters. So what happened? You saw something, didn't you? You shouldn't hide these things from your doting husband, Yuuri!"

Their voices began to soften as they left the stadium, and Yurio let out an irritated huff. He had spent hours recording himself slow clapping, not to mention how long it took to figure out when the skater would be alone. His effort hadn't been a complete waste, watching Yuuri freak out was entertaining to say the least, but he didn't count on his old rink mate showing up and cutting his prank short. With a low grumble, he collected his equipment alongside the possessions that the other two had abandoned. He'd have plenty of chances to embarrass his peer at a later date, he could let this one slide. Sauntering to the exit, a blurry flash clouded the edge of his vision. Cold sweat dampened his forehead as he looked back at the seat he had just occupied. A translucent silhouette seemed to hover within the darkness, taunting his sanity. Yurio didn't believe in childish things such as ghosts or hauntings, people would say anything for thirty seconds of fame and a quick payout. Assuming his harmless jest had increased his own paranoia, he didn't wait around for his mind to conjure more apparitions as he hightailed out into the bitter night.