ALL IS LOST [hope remains]
@dorkonice
His stomach sinks with every step towards the rink, and he debates just turning around and going home. After all, Viktor probably won’t end up coming, what with the conclusion to their dinner last night. But then again, what if he does? Then Yuuri would be even more of a disappointment.
He keeps walking and notices the smooth expanse of white glowing beneath the first rays of early morning sunlight. There’s nobody around this early. Nobody around, including Viktor.
He sits down and tugs off his sneakers, surreptitiously stealing glances as if doing so will allow him to catch a glimpse of silver hair. But each time he notes only an expanse of lifeless snow and slush.
Of course he’s not coming. Of course.
There’s a bit of movement near a bench not too far from the rink. From here, it looks like a bundle of fluff. Yuuri blinks and notes the pile of fabric -- but that’s a person, isn’t it? He shoves his sneakers back on without bothering to tie the laces and runs, just barely managing not to trip.
Viktor Nikiforov, star skater and world champion, lies curled on the bench, hands balled into fists. Makkachin rouses from sleep and sniffs at Yuuri’s pant leg as Yuuri looks down at his coach. The Russian skater shivers a little in his sleep. “Viktor?” Yuuri tentatively reaches out a hand, letting it hover above Viktor’s shoulder before finally giving his coach a gentle shake. “Viktor, are you okay?”