Damaged love

Too cool for fun

“OMG! Please hurry, my uncle just collapsed!” I yelled into the phone. The man gurgled at my feet. Arching my eyebrow, I studied him.
“Where am I?” I turned around. “I, uh don’t know.” I allowed a small amount of fear and uncertainty into my voice.
“We just left the café on Hanover Street. We were going to the museum.” I upped the stress level in my voice. “Please hurry, I think he stopped breathing!”  I squealed into the phone. The man at my feet starred up at me. A few last gasps moved his chest up and down. His eyes fixated on me.
Just then an airplane came in for a landing over head. The noise should confuse the 911 operator on the phone. I hung up. Kneeling down beside him, I watched as the eyes glassed over. He was gone. “So long, dude.” I muttered. I stood up strolling over to the motorcycle I left sitting on the pavement. Carefully I eased out of the area. I couldn’t leave any tire prints. I drove away.
When I was crossing the bridge, I tossed the prepaid phone over the side. I had a new commission about five hundred miles away. It would be a nice drive. I decided to take the scenic route. Making good time, I stopped in a small family-owned diner for dinner. There was a garage next door. Making a quick decision I strolled up to the garage.
A blonde woman, nearly as tall as me, walked up to me. Her eyes licked over the curves of the bike behind me. I smiled pulling the dark sunglasses off of my eyes. “Hey there!” I called out. Her blue eyes blinked as she tore her gaze from my ride.
“Oh, uh hey.” She smiled tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“She's beautiful isn’t she?” I smirked.
“Yeah she is.” She agreed with me.
“I was wondering if you had tires for her in stock? I’m on a sort of cross country journey.” She grinned.
“Yeah actually I do.” She took me in to show me the tires she had in a back room. I selected the tires, paid her, explained I was going to diner. She told me she could have them on and ready for me when I was done. I thanked her.
Walking over to the café I stepped inside. It was fairly empty. A waitress called out for me to sit anywhere. I waved acknowledging her comment. Deciding to sit at the counter I picked up a menu that was stuck in between the napkin holder and the salt and pepper shakers.
Reading over the selection. Picking out a sandwich with fries and gravy. I ordered a coffee when she held up the pot. No one came to take to me. I slipped out my phone out to check any messages. Nothing new, it wasn’t like someone like me had friends. I checked some social media.
Once I finished eating I paid said good bye, before heading out to check on my motorcycle. It was refuled, oil changed as well as the new tires on. I thanked her, offered to pay for the extras she had done, but she waved me off. I gave her a hug, after asking her if it was OK, before heading back out.
A few hours later it began to grow dark. Not wanting to get in an accident I found a hotel to spend the night. I woke just as the sun was coming up. Breakfast was McDonald’s. I was on my way by nine. I had three hours to get to my next job.
It didn’t take me that long. As I pulled up to the restaurant I was to met my next employer about a half hour early. Driving around the parking lot, I checked where all the doors were, surveyed all the cars and made sure I had a good exit strategy. Pulling back up front, I parked the motorcycle.
Swinging off I locked my helmet and sunglasses in the small trunk on the bike. I strolled into the building. Glancing around, I saw the woman who I was to dine with. I slouched over, pulling the chair out, I dropped down facing her.
“I’m the hunter.” I said. I always enjoyed the codes these people came up with.
“I’m the swan.” She responded. Her witchy looking face contouring in disgust as she looked me over.
“You seem… young for this kind of work.” She commented. I smirked.
“Many people have taken that thought to their grave. You have the money, I’ll do what you want." I told her. Under the table she handed me a huge envelope. I slipped it inside my leather jacket.
“Do note, that if you do anything to piss me off, well my enemies, they get a free burial.” I stood before she could say anything else.
“He needs to die before he turns sixteen. The details….” I slammed my hand onto the table as I bent over her. Whispering harshly, I reminded her we were not to talk about the nature of our business. I stormed out.
I found a hotel not far away. Setting by the table in my room, I pulled out the envelope. Inside there was a picture of a blonde boy. He looked so young. Well, he was only fifteen. Those eyes though. He looked like he was trying to kill you through the camera lens. Solider eyes. I’ve seen them before. I read the letter. The kid was a dancer and figure skater. This woman wanted him killed simply because he chose figure skating over her ballet lessons. How insane was this woman? I cried. I slammed the envelope down.
Pacing around the room I tried to get my head around this. The letter went on to say that her ex-husband was the kids figure skating coach. She didn’t think he should be making money on the kid.  What the hell is wrong with people?
I counted the money. All cash. Only half of what I told her I would do the job for. Was this really worth it? I picked up the photo. It was in color. Those green eyes were intense. I starred into them. This kid had seen shit in his young life. I bit my lip scanning every inch of his face. This kid…
(Yuri POV)
It was the second day of training. This all still felt weird. I couldn’t see or talk to Lila. Ugh so now we had some hag for the ballet lessons. I finished the last of the jump sequence Yakov barked at me to do. Skating to the side I noticed he wasn’t even there. Glancing around as I wiped the sweat out of my eyes I saw him talking to some dude dressed all in leather. Who was this clown? I pondered. Then intense brown eyes flicked up to survey me. A smirk curved the side of his mouth. What a dork! I thought. I turned my back on him. Heading back out on the ice I skated to my last year’s performance. It was early Yakov, hadn’t gotten around  to getting a new routine together for me.
As I glided over the ice I forgot about the stranger that the stupid coach was talking to. Instead, I lost myself in the music, in the scratch of my skates. Inside my own head was the only place I felt safe anymore. With Yakov and Lila's divorce it felt like I lost my parents as well. I guess at fifteen your coaches parented you as much as your parents were supposed to. My parents abandoned me. I still had grandpa, that was enough. The smile came to my lips involuntarily. It always appeared when I thought of him.
As I came out of a jump I started to glide around to a combo spin, when something bumped into me. My body flew over the ice. Only a second before my head would have smashed into the boards did I manage to get my arms over my head. The hit came to my fore arms. A second later I was on my feet.
Spinning to face the ingrate who got in my way I was yelling before my eyes focused on him. “What the hell do you think your doing?” I screeched. He was taller than me. Wide broad shoulders, sturdy chest that angled down into perfectly narrow hips. He stood with his hip out. Did he actually hip check me on purpose? My eyes narrowed as I took in his face.
The sides of his dark hair were shaved back. A flop on top gave him a bad boy vibe. The smirk on his face sent my blood boiling. I skated over to him. “Are you some sort of idiot!” I screamed.
“I’m Otabek Atlin, your new rink mate.” He stated holding out his hand to me. I slapped it away. A part of me knew, even as I did it, that I was acting like a child. Lila would have torn my head off for a move like this.
As his hand flew away from me something sparkled in his eyes. His smile changed from friendly, open to mysterious. If I had been anyone else I would have thought it was a look of respect. No one really respected me. I was just the young Russian punk who had too much attitude, not enough talent. That was until they actually stood in my way for the gold. My talent flowed in every fiber of my body. This dick wasn’t going to stop me. No one was.
“I don’t care who the hell you are, you could have hurt me!” I screamed.
“Yuri!” Yakov called from his place behind the boards. The old man didn’t even bother to come out on the ice to see if I was ok or not. Jerk! I thought. At times like these I thought often that I might have made the wrong choice! Figure skating or ballet. That was what they said the choice was about. It wasn’t though. They each wanted me in their sport. I was choosing between them! It wasn’t fair. Skating was my connection to my grandfather. All the hours he spent sitting beside the pond as I had lessons. All the days spent changing his own life to keep me in this sport. I had to win gold. I had to show him just what his sacrifice meant to me.
Glaring at Yakov I spun away from the hulking figure. Who cares if he was hot? Possibly the hottest guy I had ever seen, well next to the other Yuri. But Victor got to him first. I snorted.
“Just stay out of my way, Atlin!” I snarled.
“Yuri?” he called. I didn’t stop but looked back over my shoulder. A grin split his face. “I like your eyes. Soldiers eyes. Intense and strongly focused. Have you ever had fun, kid?” his laugh followed me into the locker room. What did he know about my life? The words screamed and twisted in my head.
Have you ever had fun, kid? Why did everyone see my age and not me. Why couldn’t I find love? I guess I was born to be hated by all. Quickly I changed out of my training gear. As I repacked my bag I heard someone come into the locker room. I didn’t look up.
He slammed his locker door, shuffled everything around as loudly as he could. I glanced up once, he was watching me. When he saw me look up he grinned again. Stepping around his locker he knelt beside me.
“So from what I understand, you’re the kid to beat around here. I mean other than the dream of Victor Nikiforov.” One large hand rested on his knee. The other he sort of held out toward me. “You are the closest to my age.” He put his head on his fist. “Okay that’s not true, but you’re the one that seems the most interesting. How about I enlist your services in showing me around this hole?” he ran a hand through his hair as he regarded me.
“Maybe we could even be friends?” he winked sexily. I jerked back. No one had ever asked to be my friend. No one had ever wanted to be my friend. Who the hell was this guy?
“What do you say, Plisetsky?” he held out his hand for me to shake again. “Care to be my friend?” he asked that disarming smile on his thick luscious lips. My mind went blank as I stared at him. My hand moved on its own.
His warm fingers curled around mine. They were thick like little sausages. My thin hand was swallowed up in his.
“I, uh, yeah I would like that.” I said. He grinned.
“Great. Let’s start with getting something to eat, I’m starving.” Otabek Atlin, who are you? I thought as I followed him out of the locker room to a waiting motor bike.