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Yuuri’s night was absolutely disastrous. From the pouring rain, to the rip in his favourite jeans, to the date that didn’t show. He thought “nothing could possibly make this worse…right?” Oh how the world loved to prove him wrong.
On the way back to his apartment he was bombarded by paparazzi, looking for the latest scoop on the renowned figure skater who did unbelievably poorly in the season’s Grand Prix Finals. He did his best to dodge them; to avoid any and all confrontation, to just get back to the comfort of his own home.
The World, of course, had other plans. The next morning every skating website and even a few skating magazines and news sites spun outrageous stories about a mysterious stranger he had apparently met up with last night.
He had to admit, some of the doctored photos were impressive. Most of the articles though, if not all, only really got his name right. One of them didn’t even get that right, calling him Yuuki Katsumi instead. Surely no one would believe this, right?
Hours later he was proven wrong once again when his best friend, Phichit Chulanont, called him in a frenzy. He was talking so fast that all Yuuri really caught was “a date???”, “was he cute??”, “I feel betrayed”, and “meet me at Starbucks tomorrow at 9” before Phichit hung up.
Yuuri put his head in his hands, not sure how to recount the embarrassing story—not sure he even wanted to try. Still he rested and made himself get out of bed the next day.
When he arrived at the café, he saw Phichit had already reserved them a seat. The moment he walked through the door, his friend had his eyes trained on him as he casually sipped a cup of tea.
Yuuri walked over to him, greeting him with a nervous smile. He knew there was nothing to be truly nervous about. This was Phichit, his best friend, the one who would accept him no matter what he finds out about him! He draped his jacket over the back of his chair and sat down.
“So….who were they?” Phichit asked, studying him as he tried to come up with a response better than “I don’t know”.
In a moment of panic he looked around the café and pointed at a random stranger. He realized moments later that this clearly was not the best course of action as Phichit called the man over.
Yuuri hid his face in his hands to conceal the embarrassed blush he was sure was on his colouring his entire face—probably up to the tips of his ears.
He internally hoped that the man would brush it off—god forbid he play along and make this situation worse.
Luckily for Phichit, the man did the latter. Yuuri hadn’t looked up since he pointed at random, and was clearly surprised to see none other than living legend Victor Nikiforov taking a seat next to him. Yuuri wished for nothing more than for the earth to swallow him whole.
“Ooooh. Interesting,” Phichit said, leaning forward. “I honestly didn’t expect this, but good on you Yuuri!” he cheered, patting his friend’s shoulder. Yuuri’s face only burned brighter.
“So, Victor. Could you tell us about what happened at your date with Yuuri last night? None of the articles ever mentioned you.”
Victor looked at Yuuri for a second, a smile on his face. “Well the night started with me picking him up,” he said, formulating his ideal date on the spot and hoping for the best.
Yuuri peeked through a gap in his fingers, absolutely incredulous. Victor Nikiforov, his childhood idol and long-time crush, was playing along.
“We had a stroll in the park with my dog Makkachin. Had a lovely dinner, wine and all. Yuuri was an absolute gentleman through it all! I’m very lucky to have had the opportunity,” Victor said, resting his chin on his hand and looking like a lovesick puppy.
Yuuri doubted that Victor really was a love sick puppy—his acting was probably just that great, yet another reason why Victor Nikiforov is impossibly perfect.
Phichit only asked a few more questions, mostly directed at Victor, before he was satisfied. He bade them farewell soon after, leaving Victor and Yuuri alone to discuss the whole incident.
Once Phichit was entirely out of sight, Yuuri cleared his throat. “Th-Thank you for playing along!” he said, embarrassed. He offered him a small bow to show his gratitude. “You didn’t have to…but it was very kind of you. So thank you.”
Victor laughed. Yuuri was sure he had gone to heaven, dying from embarrassment and now hearing a chorus of angels. Victor could’ve been an angel anyway—Yuuri wouldn’t put it past him.
Victor waved him off. “It wasn’t any trouble Yuuri. You seemed like you needed the help,” he said, a 5000-watt smile on his face. “Maybe in exchange we could fulfil that imaginary date someday?”
Yuuri nodded fervently, unable to form any words.
“Do you still have my number?” Viktor asked, a playful smile on his face.
Yuuri looked up, brows drawn together. “You’ve never given me your number Viktor.”
Viktor was equally confused now. “Yes you do! I wrote it on your arm at the night of the banquet!”
Yuuri’s eyes widened, remembering how he woke up the morning after said event slightly disoriented and very hungover. He had washed the number off without a second thought, and to think it was Viktor’s number! He groaned and hid his face in his hands.
Viktor chuckled. “It’s okay Yuuri. But since you lost my number, can I have yours?”