He could remember the sound of the crowd chanting his name, the sight of roses and other objects raining down on the ice around him. He was on his hands and knees, panting on the ice from the physical exhaustion of his free skate program, his arms trembling and just barely keeping him propped up. The blood pumping in his ears drowned out most of the noise, and for a moment he was convinced that he would pass out right there on the ice.

Summoning all of his strength, Yuri Plisetsky willed himself to his feet, raising his arms over his head to wave to the crowd. They were on their feet screaming, waving their arms wildly, some holding up signs and banners with his name plastered on them. Looking across the arena, he could see Yakov and Lilia, the latter wiping tears from her eyes. He knew he did good, and he couldn't help the feeling of pride in his chest at the sight of his coaches happy with him.

Taking one last glance around the arena, he was about to skate to his coaches, when his gaze passed over a figure in a wheelchair. It was a girl with silver hair that fell in a braid past her shoulders, and suddenly the roaring of the crowd was gone. She was staring at him, her violet eyes spilling tears down her face. Yuri had seen countless girls crying after his performances, but she was different. Her tears weren't those of joy, but of sorrow, and he found that he couldn't look away from her.

An invisible force willed him to go to her, and he started to step forward when Yakov shouted, "Yurochka!"

He jumped as the screaming of the crowd came back to him, and he gave her one last glance before skating to his coaches. They greeted him at the edge of the ice, Yakov helping put the covers on his blades. Lilia put her hands on his shoulders, "Now that is how you dance."

He was still trying to catch his breath waiting for his scores. When they finally came up announcing him in first place, he nearly passed out again. He always put in so much work, more than some of the other skaters at the Rostelecom Cup, and finally it was starting to pay off.

But he couldn't get the sight of that girl crying out of his mind. Why was she crying like that? The scores proved that he wasn't bad, so why?

He watched stupid Pork Cutlet Bowl Yuri skate and almost blow his chances at getting to the Grand Prix Final. He probably would have killed him if he didn't make it. It was supposedly his last year skating, and Yuri would rather die than not be able to beat that Japanese idiot.

He also had to endure dropping to second place and being chased around by Yuri, but finally the night came to a close. He would be lying if he said he wasn't disappointed in not getting first, but as he was leaving the arena, he was too exhausted to even care anymore. Groups of people waiting in the lobby rushed to their favorite skaters as they came out to greet them, and Yuri was stopped by a crowd of girls.

"Can we get a picture?" They asked, one of them holding up their phone.

He shoved his hands in his pocket, shaking his head to get the bangs out of his eyes, and muttered, "Yeah, sure."

They squealed, handing their phone to a middle aged woman who he assumed must have been one of their mothers, and gathered around him. He put his arms around the shoulders of a petite girl with long black hair that framed her face, and a bigger-framed girl with glasses.

"Say cheese!" The mother said.

"Cheese!" The girls cheered.

But as the picture got taken, Yuri caught sight of a wheelchair in the crowd heading toward the exit. He felt his eyes widen just as the flash went off, and he unwrapped himself from the group of giggling girls. He ran forward without thinking twice, and later he would remember the girls calling him back to take a better photo.

He didn't care at that moment, though, all he wanted was to catch up with that wheelchair. Pushing through the crowd, he called out, "Hey! Wheelchair!"

The wheelchair stopped, and a pair of violet eyes graced him, "Yuri Plisetsky?"

He stopped in front of the girl with silver hair, catching his breath from leaping over so many people, and pointed at her, "You were crying!" He shouted, drawing attention from the people around them.

The girl stared up at him with a shocked expression, "Excuse me?" The right side of her face was scarred, like it had been burned. It ran down her neck and disappeared underneath her hoodie. He hadn't seen it on the ice, but it didn't change the fact that she was one of the most beautiful girls he'd ever seen and he just wanted to know why she was crying.

"After my performance, you were crying." He frowned, "You looked so sad. Why were you sad? I got second place, so you couldn't have been crying because I did bad."

Her mouth opened slightly, and then she said, "You saw me?"

"Uh, yeah," He crossed his arms, "you were looking right at me."

"I didn't actually think you were looking at me though." She said, looking down at the floor, "I wasn't crying because you were bad."

"Then why?"

"I was crying because you did so good." She smiled, and tears formed in her eyes.

He froze. Was she going to cry again? As soon as the question passed through his mind, tears spilled from her eyes. He gasped and waved his hands in the air, "Oh no! Don't cry! I didn't mean to make you cry again!"

"This just in," Yuri looked over to see a cameraman and woman standing in front of them, "Yuri Plisetsky, second place winner at this year's Rostelecom Cup, has just made a fan break down in tears. It looks like the Russian Punk is back to his old habits."

He balled his fist and shook it at them, "I am not!" Quickly he looked down at her, "What did I do? Did I say something?"

She laughed, wiping her eyes, "No, you didn't do anything."

"Then why are you crying?"

"My name is Emilia Hoffman." She said, and Yuri swore he had heard that name before, "I'm an American skater, or at least I was." She motioned to the wheelchair.

"Emilia Hoffman." He repeated, "Where have I heard your name before?"

"I recently made some headlines." He saw her hands clench, "My parents and I got into a bad car accident. They died, I lived."

That's right, America's new and upcoming star in women's skating. She had only competed in a few professional competitions, taking all of them by storm at the age of sixteen. She was due to compete for the world championships next year, but her time had been cut short by a car accident. She and her parents had been driving home from a competition when a semi driver had fallen asleep and drifted into their lane. The doctors had said it was a miracle that she was still alive, the only reason being that she had been lying down in the back seat of her parents' car.

The camera man and news reporter rushed up to them, the woman shoving a microphone in her face, "Emilia! Emilia! Tell us how your recovery has been going. Will you ever return to skating? How do you feel about your team taking on a new skater just days after your accident?"

Emilia looked flustered, bunching the blanket covering her legs in her hands, "I-uh-"

"Look!" Yuri suddenly shouted, pointing toward the exit, "It's Victor, he's returned to coach Yuri!" So it was a small lie, big deal.

"What?" The reporter turned around, and Yuri grabbed Emilia's wheelchair and started running. He didn't stop until they were out of sight of the media, around the corner next to the bathrooms. People who were lingering around stared at them as Yuri came to a stop, "I think we'll be safe here."

"Thank you." She said, "I didn't think anyone here would recognize me or my name. I'm not even famous yet."

"You were getting there, though." Yuri leaned against the wall, "Even I've heard your name, and not just because of your accident. Now answer my question, why were you crying? It's been bugging the hell out of me all night."

She looked up at him, "I was crying because you're the skater I've looked up to since the first time I saw you. I've never seen you skate in person before. It made me so happy and sad at the same time."

His eyes widened. She looked up to him? Another skater actually looked up to him, Yuri Plisetsky, and not Victor? "Why'd it make you sad?"

She looked down at her lap, "I just got done undergoing reconstructive surgery to fix my face. It was so scarred from the glass and fire that they weren't sure if they could actually fix it. The doctors told me I would be lucky if I could even walk again, never mind skating. I'll never skate again. I just watched my idol skate his best performance yet, and I'll never skate again."

Yuri pushed himself off the wall and crossed his arms, "So what, you're going to give up skating because you have a pair of bum legs?"

Emilia's eyes widened and she turned her head to look up at him.

He felt his blood boiling, "You're going to give up like that?"

"I..."

"You'll never skate again." He scoffed, and then shouted, "A true skater would never say stuff like that!" A group of girls turned their heads in their direction, holding up their phones. In the weeks to come, Yuri would realize that they were the start of it all.

Emilia was staring at him again, her mouth hanging open in surprise. He was right, she had given up, but what was she supposed to do when she could barely feel anything in her legs? She felt more tears coming to her eyes, trying anything to make them go away. Here her idol was, standing before her in all his glory, and she was crying. "I'm sorry." She said quietly, and he fell silent, "Things just seem so hopeless right now. I lost my parents and skating, basically my entire world is just gone." She smiled then, "That's why it was important to me to come to the Rostelecom Cup. I needed to see you skate so I wouldn't give up."

Yuri's face cleared, and somehow he looked younger. He shoved his hands into his pockets, seemingly calmer, "Why me?"

"What?"

"You keep saying you wanted to see me skate, that I'm your idol." He looked away from her, "But why? All anyone's ever cared about is Victor. When people talk about Russia, the only name that comes up is Victor, never Yuri. So why do you care?"

She smiled, "I remember the first time I saw you skate on TV. You fell down twice and your coach was so mad it looked like he was going to pass out. But you were so confident. You still held your head high even though you came in third. Even though you fell, I thought your free skate was amazing. It's what made me work harder as a skater. Victor never did that, you did."

His eyes widened.

The phone sitting in her lap started vibrating, and she looked at it, then him, "It's my uncle."

"You should take it." He said, still trying to process what she had said.

"Hello?" She answered, and he could hear a deep male voice on the other line, "Yeah, it just got done. JJ won, Yuri came in second." She paused for a moment as he spoke. "Yeah, I'm actually talking to him right now." Pause. "Seriously." She held out the phone, putting it on speaker, "Say hi."

"Yuri Plisetsky?" The male voice asked.

Yuri leaned closer to the phone, "Yeah, it's me."

"Wow, I had hoped she was able to see you skate, but actually meeting you-" He laughed, "I can only imagine the story I'll get when she gets home."

"Uncle!" Emilia groaned, "Can you not?"

"Sorry Emmy, someone has to embarrass you."

"It looks like your doing a good job." Yuri said, "Her face is all red."

She quickly took him off speaker, "Okay, Uncle I'm going now. My plane flies out tomorrow morning, so I'll see you soon." Pause, "Okay, I love you too." She pressed the red end button looked up at Yuri, "Well, thank you for listening to me ramble about my problems. You better go greet all your fans out there, I can hear girls screaming."

He grinned, "Yeah, they do that a lot."

"I'll be watching you at the Grand Prix Final."

"You'll be there?"

"No," She laughed, "my uncle could barely afford to get me here, but he made sure I was. I'll be watching on TV." She waited for a response, and when she didn't get one, she said, "See you later. Good luck, Yuri. I'll be cheering for you."

He watched her start to roll away, trying to think of something, anything, to say. "Emilia!" She turned her head to look back at him, "Just call me Emmy."

He crossed his arms, "Don't give up, Emmy. I want to be the one watching you skate someday."

She looked surprised, and then grinned, "I start physical therapy next week." With that she started rolling away. "Wait!" He shouted again, and this time when she turned around, he was jogging toward her. He handed her a slip of paper, refusing to look at her. She took it, starting to unfold it, "What is-"

"Don't open it!" He shouted, crumpling it up while it was still in her hand, "Don't open it till you leave."

"Oh, okay." She said, "Then you better let me go so I can see what it is."

"Yeah, whatever." He pulled his hood up, walking past her, "Later, Wheelchair."

Emmy watched him go, the fans who were still waiting for him in the lobby starting to scream when he came out. They rushed up to him, and he immediately started signing autographs. She laughed, deciding to open the paper even though he'd told her not to. It was the corner of a piece of loose leaf paper, a series of numbers were hastily written in pen. She felt herself blush as she realized it was his phone number. When she looked up at his place in front of his fans, he was already looking at her, his own face flaming red.

She waved and mouthed, 'Sorry!'

The girls that had been in the corner the whole time on their phones, were whispering to each other and giggling. Emmy looked over, and saw that they were gathered around one girl's phone watching something. She dismissed it as a video of one of the skaters from that night, rolling out of the hallway and past the mob of girls, and even some boys, who had gathered to see the Russian Punk. With one last glance at him, she rolled out of the center and toward the street where a handicapped taxi had been patiently waiting.

She never expected to see Yuri Plisetsky again. Maybe she would try texting the number he gave her, just to see if she'd get a reply, but she wouldn't hold her breath. He was a rising star with more fans than he actually knew, and she was just an American who had been defeated before the battle even started.

Little did she know that in the matter of a week, she would be the subject of a worldwide phenomenon.

Thank you everyone for reading my first chapter! I just love Yuri P and finally I broke down and decided to write this story, largely due to him blessing us all with a pony tail in this week's episode. It's been an idea floating around inside my head for a while, so here it goes! I promise chapters will be longer after this!

Please review and tell me what you think!