(PLEASE LOOK AT THE NOTE BEFORE YOU START READING)

A/N:
Hi!
This is kind of a weird fic. I basically copied and pasted someone else's fanfic and then heavily edited and changed it a loooot to meet my preferences. Like a looooot. I made it about 15x longer.

Keep in mind that parts of this story are still the original author's writing (like the summary), although I'm pretty sure I changed every sentence of this fic.

Basically, I liked the original story so much I wanted to keep writing it :D
The original one is really, really good, of course. Go check it out. All credit for the story idea and stuff goes to them.

Link to the original story: /works/8663095 (The story is called If you need help you can always ask)

Link to the original author: /users/PushPin/pseuds/PushPin (The author's name is PushPin)

As for the warnings, there is attempted non-con in this. No sexual acts actually occur, but if you're sensitive to really creepy, suggestive scenes, maybe give this one a pass. There is a little bit of language because Yuri is the narrator and...well, you know what you sign up for when you read a fic from his perspective. I did try to keep the language minimal, though, I promise :)

I hope this kind of story is okay. I've never seen anyone do this kind of thing before, and I'm really sorry if I break a thousand rules while doing this and offend everyone. I just really liked this story and wanted to expand on it!

Enjoy!

x

Chapter 1

With all the excitement, anxiety, and anticipation of skate competitions, it was easy to forget just how much downtime there was during the actual event. To Yuri Plisetsky, the endless rituals he had to perform before his actual program seemed unnecessary, not to mention annoying as hell. The day of the event started with grueling early mornings, excessive warmups, costumes, and socializing with other skaters, all before he even got on the ice. Even after he finally performed, he still had to wait around after to indulge interviewers and listen to a lengthy critique of his performance.

Being fifteen gave him fewer options for escape, and he was usually at the mercy of his coach. At the behest of Yakov, he also had to indulge the whims of his current sponsors, which usually involved much more press time than was necessary. It was all an infuriating game to play just so he could skate.

Yuri had heard that his old friend (nemesis?) Katsuki Yuuri was skating at the event as well, but in a completely different bracket, so they hadn't crossed paths yet. Victor and Yuuri were probably inseparable, as per usual. Ugh. Idiots. Just being around them made Yuri want to murder someone every single time.

A loud voice suddenly interrupted Yuri's irritated musings. "Yuri, my boy! Your set was very impressive today! Glad to see all the time training is worth it!"

Yuri stopped his meandering and turned to the voice with mild confusion. The underground hallways were always empty during a competition. It took him a second to recognize the man calling him, but the American accent clued him in. He couldn't remember his name, but this man was definitely one of his bigger sponsors. They had met a few times during practice when he'd been forced to play nice for the man with the fat wallet.

Yuri groaned inwardly. He did not feel like having forced conversation with this guy.

"Where's your coach? I thought he'd be with you," the man said, glancing around the dark hallway as though he would find Yakov magically materializing near them.

"He's not my keeper," Yuri grumbled, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. "Probably still talking to reporters." He looked at him with narrow eyes as the man walked closer. He was intimidatingly taller than Yuri; probably around nine inches.

"Why not come up to my box and watch the rest of the competition with me? He'll be sure to find you there," the man suggested, putting a hand on Yuri's back and leading him towards the stairwell. "Maybe we can chat a bit about your funding. After your perfect performance tonight, I'd say you're up for a bit more pampering."

As the man pushed him forward, Yuri cursed under his breath in rapid Russian, then switched to English with a slightly more polite tone. "Sure, whatever." Shrugging off the hand, Yuri grudgingly followed him up and through the stadium, watching as the walls grew cleaner and more well kept the higher they went. When they reached the suite level, there were a few skaters and rich looking fans milling around, likely wandering from one party in one box to another.

He wasn't above admitting that the lure of more funding was always tempting. Life wasn't easy for his family, but money always helped. Most of his checks got sent home to his family, but he knew they weren't always enough, and in offseason without any prize money coming in, money was tight with his family and he had to rely on sponsors for funding, which often meant humoring idiots like this.

The man led Yuri into a dimly lit, empty box. The loud thumping of a bass-heavy EDM song could be heard through the wall, presumably from a party in the next room over, but it was quiet enough in the booth.

Yuri sat on a couch in front of the glass in the front row, leaning his arm against the arm of the chair. Someone he didn't recognize was currently skating, and he absentmindedly critiqued their poor form in his head while wondering if Yuuri had already gone. The man came and sat next to him on the soft sofa, putting an arm up on the back near Yuri's head, not quite close enough to be touching. Yuri watched him out of the corner of his eye while he shuffled away an inch, and pulled out his phone from his hoodie pocket. Did this guy have no sense of personal space?

"Listen, I was hoping we could talk a bit about your funding," the man started. His attention wasn't on the ice skating. It was laser-focused on Yuri. It made his skin crawl, but he stayed in place."You did such a good job tonight, just beautiful on the ice."

His voice was too close to Yuri's ear. He kept his eyes glued to his phone. Victor had posted a selfie on Instagram of him squeezing Yuuri against his side with the caption 'celebrating in suite 19 3'. Damn. He had missed Yuuri's performance already.

"I think we could work something out for some extra funding during the offseason if you could do something for me."

Yuri blanched when he felt fingers tugging on his hair tie, letting his hair down. He stared at a spot in front of his phone, his finger frozen mid-scroll. His hair fell over his face, but Yuri didn't look up or move, feeling cold that had nothing to do with the ice rink.

"You're so beautiful, Yuri. I couldn't believe it when I heard you were only fifteen…"

The fingers were combing through his hair now. Yuri felt a warm hand on his thigh, and his gut dropped as his body jerked under the unwelcome touch. He wondered briefly why his usual reaction of anger had abandoned him in this moment. He didn't know what to feel or what to do, and he was just staying frozen in place. Why the hell wasn't he moving?

"Give me your hand."

He felt a clammy hand close over his thin wrist and all at once felt small and young and very, very alone, a feeling he didn't have often and didn't welcome.

The fingers around his wrist were firm and when he tried to pull his arm away, the man squeezed his wrist harder and pressed it into the couch. He was surprisingly strong.

"Work with me here and I'll give you anything you want, any money you need to skate for the rest of your career. And you'll—you'll want this, I promise. You'll like it. Just—just—"

The man leaned into Yuri's face, and Yuri tried to pull back quickly, but his head slammed on the top of the sofa. He grit his teeth in pain. The man, apparently having given up trying to justify what he was doing, climbed on top of him and pinned him to the couch. His hand moved higher up his thigh. Yuri squeezed his eyes shut, his heart thumping wildly. He pinned Yuri's wrist next to his face on the couch. His other hand was on Yuri's hip now, and Yuri jerked as it moved up. That touch felt so wrong, sent shivers down every part of his body…

The man was leaning closer into Yuri's neck when suddenly the door behind them swung open and the room was flooded with light. The man threw himself away from Yuri immediately and cursed, scrambling away to the opposite end of the couch as quickly as he could. Yuri dragged himself away from him, pushing on the couch with trembling hands, He stared at the man, breathing heavily, his entire body shaking with each heavy breath he took.

"Oh, sorry! I'm in the wrong—" It was Katsuki Yuuri, so polite with his freshly washed hair and red face, walking into the wrong booth. He stopped short when his eyes locked with Yuri's terror-stricken ones. This was the most vulnerable or scared he had ever seen Yuri. Yuuri's brows furrowed in confusion as the silence dragged on awkwardly.

"This is a private booth, get out!" the man next to Yuri bellowed, red in the face, not making eye contact with either Yuri.

"Uh, sorry," Yuuri put his hands up in an apologetic gesture with a forced smile. He looked at the man, then back to Yuri, taking in the situation. "I…I think Yakov is looking for you, Yurio."

Before anything else could be said, Yuri vaulted over the back of the sofa and pushed past Yuuri through the door and into the hall. He bent down, his hands on his knees, staring at the floor. He felt like he could finally breathe out in the bright hallway. He only paused for a moment before taking off again, sprinting down the hallway.

"Yurio!" Yuuri slammed the door shut and ran after him. "Wait up!"

"I'm going to find Yakov," Yuri called back firmly, slamming the door to the stairwell open with more force than necessary. Yuuri managed to catch up with him, and he stopped behind Yuri as he started to walk down the stairs.

"Yurio, wait!" Yuuri called to him. Yuri paused in the doorway and turned around to face him, his eyes furious.

"Yakov—he isn't looking for you. I made that up," Yuri stared at him. "You just looked like you needed a reason to get out of there."

Yuri felt his face heat up, his grip on the doorway tightening. There was that anger he had so desperately needed only a minute ago.

"Yurio, what was happening in there?" Yuuri asked quietly.

Yuri stared at the ground.

"You don't have to be scared. I just want to help."

Yuri's head snapped up. "I'm—I'm not scared, you freak. I don't need your help," He promptly turned around, sprinted down the stairwell, and jumped down the remaining steps in just a few seconds. Yuuri followed at a slower pace, extremely concerned.

He caught up just as Yuri put his hand on the door and hesitated. "If you tell anyone about this, Katsudon. I'll make you regret it."

He violently pulled the door open and practically ran out, leaving Yuuri alone in the stairwell.