Finally, the fandom is in FFnet. I don't like posting in AO3 actually, it's just because I'm awkward there.

Well, hello! This is fluffy and angsty and perhaps I will change the rating once we reach twenty chapters and so on. This doesn't follow the actual plot, but still is about skating. Enjoy!

The Broken and The Damned

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Life

Sometimes, Katsuki Yuuri might find himself in the odds of identity crisis.

Perhaps, well, he wouldn't call his dilemma as an identity crisis, he knew he was doing ― he just wasn't sure if he was on the right track of his life or not. Whatever it was, he hoped it wasn't the latter. For God's sake, he was twenty-three and yet, still a confused, wondering man.

And he wasn't one to brag about himself. Sure, he had talent ― but not one that rivaled a professional. In fact, he considered himself mediocre than anyone else. And he wasn't the most confident about his looks as well. What could anyone see within a twenty-year old man that looked slightly younger than his apparent age, with a gut slightly lumpier than an average skater and being a raven with eyes a normal shade of brown?

He was, he admitted, plain.

But who cares? Now, he had a degree to finish and skating classes to look forward too.

At the very least, his life wasn't as bad as anyone would've thought of.

Well, asides from his one and only companion in Yokohama had only recently passed away. Sure, it was just a dog ― one might thought, but to him whose entire family currently resided in Kyushu, located in an entirely different part of Japan than his currently home, happened to be the worst occurrence for the past few months.

And it felt cold, in midsummer rain, to idle outside for too long. He had done his job here, though he wished the landlady wouldn't find out about the mini burial and get himself kicked out of the apartment. He was already lucky enough to find a furnished apartment which allowed pets in Yokohama. In fact, he was lucky to have a part time job and a university and enough money to deal with food.

Yuuri might be lonely, but at least, he was fine.

The day continued to drizzle, perhaps even the skies crying tears for the loss of his dear poodle, Vicchan. He might as well cried a tear or two, but Yuuri was done being depressed and all. The last thing the raven wanted was a further breakdown. He slipped back into his apartment on the seventh floor, putting asides his shoes muddied from puddles and wet soil.

The apartment wasn't the smallest here, it was pretty pricey before the landlady (bless her) decided to put off a cheap discount for poor university student like him, but it was the scattered books and unwashed mugs that made the apartment looked slightly off.

A student's life, as they all said.

It would take another hour before his teaching hours, Yuuri might as well cleaned himself from the downpour. He checked the surroundings, one without his companion. There was a lacking of a familiar thump-thump-thump and the only barks came from his imagination. So far, so distant. He felt a stab in his heart.

Maybe, he do needed a change.

"Ah, Yuu-chan! You're early today!" The manager of the Kanagawa Skating Rink, Onoe Mineko, greeted him with her usual bubbly grin, "The kids will only arrive for about an hour from now."

"Yeah, I know. I just felt like freshening up my skills today," Yuuri responded with the same amount of courtesy. Mineko was a pleasant sunshine for a woman in her early thirties, although some might gossiped about the predicament of her marriage.

The brunette stretched her smile, albeit softened, to Yuuri. "Oh Yuu-chan, don't repent about what happened last year. You've got to be confident about yourself, you know. Although," she paused and lowered her stare, "You do need to get to work about your little chunk over there, but your skills are fine."

"Losing is an embarrassment, it's not that fine, Mine-san. . ." He deadpanned, but still smiling. "But I guess since Vicchan died yesterday, I might as well ease my loneliness with some work out. It's not wrong, right?"

"Of course," her eyes were that of sympathy, "But don't be too harsh on yourself, okay?"

The raven thought of it for a while, head lowered, before he answered thoughtfully, "I'm not, really."

After tying the last laces of his skates, and replacing his square-rimmed glasses with a pair of contacts, he glided his way to the centre of the rink. Without music, he glided and spun, only imagining the tunes by heart. He practiced a routine from a year back, preparing his body ― both stamina and skills ― for three jumps later on, and continued to proceed with his sequences. The first jump was led by successfully, but then came the second; one he wasn't fond of and have yet to mastered but he attempted anyway, pushing his energy to lift his feet and sprang and landed with a clumsy slip and crashed onto the cold ground. Yuuri whimpered, just as similar as how it would date back in 2015.

Japan Figure Skating Championships, live in telly throughout the whole Japan. Even his family had been watching him performed, and his friends who were much as better dancers and skaters than him.

Perhaps, it was the nervousness. The anxiety that pulled from his chest. He worked his spin sequences rather fine, followed by the toe loop ― it was okay, he mastered it ― but when it came to a Salchow, his breathing just stopped and the fear rushed in. The next moment, he found himself slipping onto the ground. Yuuri rose bitterly with shaky limbs, and dreadfully drowned himself in the musters of the crowd.

In the end, he came off the second last place and defeated, then he stopped altogether to pursue a life as a student instead.

And that was why he was here in Yokohama, alone and beaten, to find solace just to end up tutoring kids ranging from ten-year old to fourteen-year old to skate.

He heard gasps, younger voices that weren't there a few minutes ago. Unfazed but shocked, Yuuri stood up to find his five students looking at him with a certain amount of concern.

The eldest amongst them, Uno Hiroji, went straight up to him to check if he was alright from the impact. Yuuri's left shoulder did felt a slight ache after all.

"Sensei, are you sure you're alright?" Hiroji swallowed, paled from looking at the brief perturb that crossed his teacher's face. "I mean we can still train tomorrow, we're all free on Sunday."

Yuuri shook his head. "It's okay. Skaters fall all the time."

He thought about putting ice later on, but not until he gave the five of them a short routine to work on.

Mineko checked on his shoulder a while after, gave him ice which followed with the predicted line of worried stares. Yuuri mimicked the frown marred on her face, though his was a purpose against hers, as his hands shakily fumbled on wiping his lenses clean.

"I told you not to be harsh on yourself."

"I'm not."

"Come on, Yuu-chan, we all can see that," she insisted, her voice sterner than the usual chirpiness, "Even Akane-chan could see that!" She said, mentioning the only ten-year old in Yuuri's skating bunch. "Perhaps, you should take a day off. Ruri and Daizo can tutor them for today."

It came off as an instruction, much to his dismay.

"But I'm ―"

"No, no, no. Day's off, still paying," she removed the ice pack and stood up from her seat, "Now go. You need to relax."

Within minutes, Yuuri found himself outside the arena. And again, he was left to brood on his thoughts alone.

What a disaster.

In some ways, Viktor Nikiforov was considered amongst the lucky ones throughout the figure skating history. That, or he was bound to be God damn talented and drop dead gorgeous, like the fame had fell in love within first sight and was now kissing his toes and worship his being since he was sixteen.

It somehow worked like that for the light-haired man.

Within years, he found himself rising as a champion within competitions, district levels to state to national and rose high after winning five consecutive times in the Grand Prix Final and World Championships. Not to mention, he was charming not just for his skating talent, but irresistible for his looks. . . or was it because he was just so damn charismatic and flirtatious as hell?

Simply to say, his life had already prepared everything for him.

Talent. Fame. Money.

All within his grasp from the effort he worked so elegantly for the past couple of years.

Yet, why did he felt like something was missing in his life currently? Viktor could confirmed that he was feeling rather fine, and was doing his usual routine; training, actively boosting pictures to Instagram ― mostly consisted of his face in every corner of streets he deemed interesting and his poodle dog, Makkachin ― eating out, socialising, gym exercising,Instagram again, maybe even Twitter. . .

It was his usual thing, after all, but for what reasons today Viktor felt a buzzing rush of tediousness to what he was doing.

He stopped his exercise midway, and glanced toward the Asian woman that had been counting his push-ups.

"Excuse me, pretty lady, mind telling me where do you come from?" His question followed by a mischievous wink.

The woman, just as he predicted, flushed a deep crimson colour against her pale skin and stammered her words. "K-K-Kobe, but I think my family moved to Yokohama last summer. . . I think they wanted a better city life?"

"I see," he mused, "Is Yokohama fun?"

"I. . . I guess? I mean, it's more fun traveling to other countries though," the lady whimpered, "Why did you asked, though?"

The gray-haired man paused for a moment, as if he was deep in thought, but then he smiled genuinely toward her. Not as genuinely as she thought though, Viktor was always the cunning type of man, and he spoke with a sheer amount of determination.

"Then, I'll guess I'll head off to Yokohama!" The statement followed with his signature, carefree smile ― beaming though, with the foolish decision he made.

"What?!"

Too bad, Yakov just made an entrance to the small changing room bringing news about an upcoming tournament before hearing the sudden outburst coming from the famous skater.

"What are you talking about, you idiot!" Yakov burst out, a steam of anger puffing through and the Japanese lady immediately rushed out of the room to avoid his further turmoil. Yakov was known for his temper, if not his good coaching.

"Don't worry!" Viktor was still beaming despite the mood he put Yakov in, "I'll just tell the media that I would be taking a year break and I'll go to Yokohama!"

"But I just got you into ―"

"Cancel them!" He disrupted, joyously and fled just as quick as he would gain the idea.

And that was how a couple of days later, he found himself in Yokohama, seeking out a comfortable apartment to stay in for a year. The media and his fans, in fact the whole wide world, was surprised by his sudden news. But Viktor had gave them a good excuse that would save him some peace for a couple of months.

Yokohama was indeed a nice city, but of course, he somehow had hoped that he settled in a much rural place. Silence was something he needed in life, but that didn't meant that Japan had not taken his immediate regard. In fact, he had been posting twenty pictures just the day upon arrival on every places he stumbled upon.

And now all he needed was a place to stay. One that included pets to stay freely inside his living abode. And perhaps, one that wasn't too far from a skating arena.

Sure, he had taken a break but that didn't meant stopping skating altogether. The only thing he missed, and he only sort of realised once he made a haste excuse which turned out not to be a half-assed lie after all, was inspiration.

Viktor Nikiforov might be famous, might be talented, but he was still human.

And humans were able to lack inspiration, as well.

It made him sick to the bottom of his gut, skating without a purpose ― was it just to win? Where was his passion? Was skating just a matter of gliding on ice that was led with jumps and spins and elegant waves of hand movements? Sometimes, the man might ponder the reasons he was skating, and he felt dull.

He needed something.

An anchor to bring back the purpose that led him to a deemed perfection which was his life.

A light to guide him back.

Katsuki Yuuri had never spent an entire night just to work on tedious, dreadful assignments. At most times, the stressed life of being a student was what made him wished he never quit figure skating before, and he found himself confessing that thought to his childhood friend, Nishigori Yuko who was running the arena back in Kyushu.

He was more than plain exhausted. He was homesick, and he wanted sleep.

But damn, morning had just yet to be a bitch and came to greet his eyes which became a shocking even to him in a spur of a moment ― because, what the hell, how much did he lost track of time anyway?

"Holy spirits ―" Yuuri had only another couple of hours before Sports Science class settle in.

And he had not fucking sleep, or shower or eat dinner ― breakfast, for the current state of the day.

Then, whatever loathing he had was disrupted by a barking sound that seemed to come from a nearby distant. His heart lurched from such sound, yet for now, it brought him distress and he wanted nothing more than to alert his neighbour that it was rude to disturb a shitty student's morning with loud barks.

Begrudgingly, and slightly overwhelmed and somewhat melancholic (he still can't get rid of Vicchan), Yuuri stepped out of his own apartment in nothing more but a simple tee and jogging trousers to knock on the neighbour's door. Actually, he sort of banged the door because he was, well, sort of pissed.

Well, one thing for sure, Yuuri had experiences on figure skating. So, he might as well had knowledge on the prodigies of such sport. Of course, he was familiar with the current star named none other than Viktor Nikiforov. Heck, it was his idol and inspiration and it used to be the reason why he started skating. But it wasn't in his knowledge that the one recently lived beside his own apartment was the figure skating star himself.

The door budged open, slowly as to create suspense to poor Yuuri, but soon revealed a top-naked Viktor in a sleepy state. His torso was bare, and damn, was he muscular and well-built and gorgeous.

Whatever Yuuri was thinking, whatever he was mad about a second ago ― screw them, he lost his purpose of banging his neighbour's door in the middle of an early sunrise morning.

Because he was standing face to face in front of Viktor Nikiforov, the one and only!

Yuuri pushed back his glasses to the bridge of his nose, to get his lenses clear and fixated at Viktor himself, who was yawning and stretching his arms before finally returning the stare with a childlike smile.

"Y-Y-You. . . You're V-Viktor, right?" The raven wanted nothing more than to confirm, to know.

And the response the gray-haired man was something he found relief on, somehow.

"Of course, and who could you be?" Replied Viktor, still smiling obliviously.

Oh God, oh God. . .

When Yuuri pleaded for a change, he did not meant having the one and only Viktor Nikiforov as his neighbour.

TO BE CONTINUED

X for love, O for hate! If you wanna see Chapter 2 and 3 it's actually already posted in AO3.

Visit me in Instagram, I'm lonely.

-Mozu The Mochi (2016)