Chapter Text
Yuuri Katsuki always thought that home was where the heart is – and that’s not necessarily just one single place. He had a home in Japan - the house in which he grew up, the Ice Castle, and the hot springs … Those were all synonyms of home to him. However, Yuuri had a home in New York as well. And there was no better feeling in the world than coming home.
He smiled at his apartment. Everything was exactly in the same place as he left it six months ago; there was a thin layer of dust that would probably be a bitch to clean, but that didn’t matter right now. He dropped his bags to the floor and walked to his room – it was silly, but there was a part of him that wanted to see every room to see if it still existed.
Yuuri had returned to Japan for the first time in five years six months ago. He felt defeated. Drained, even. He had spent months of his life on a collection and the release was an absolute disaster. Clothes fell apart, models fell on the runway, and the critics were harsh on the Japanese designer. He’d always known he had an anxiety problem, but it got bad to a whole new level – that wasn’t something he liked to think about.
Back then, he had no idea if he wanted to carry on with his brand. It was a very hard decision; on one hand, he could have a quiet life working at the hot springs. On the other, he’d drop everything he fought tooth and nail to get. He knew he could never quit when he kept on sketching and designing even when he was supposed to take a break.
Yuuri threw himself on his bed, smiling at the ceiling. Maybe this time around it’d be different. He was feeling very refreshed and inspired. He had a general outline for a new collection. He promised himself to try again before giving up on his dreams. There was still a lot he could do, he felt. Maybe there was something waiting for him out there. Maybe something good would happen.
Maybe.
Yuuri got out of bed and walked to his sewing room. His apartment was a little too big for him – a spacey two room apartment for a single man in New York – so he turned the guest room into a sewing room. He had a small shop for when he was working with models but here was where the magic really happened. Yuuri smiled at the countless hours he spent sitting at his desk, sketching the hours away. His old sewing machine was not half as good as the one he used for work, but it was the one he learned how to sew with; it had sentimental value.
There was a pile of fabric and rejected projects in the corner of the room. His bin was overloading with paper. The room looked like it witnessed a fabric war and survived to tell its terrifying story. That was a visual representation of how stressed he was – he was usually extremely organized.
“It was probably a good idea to take some time off.” He sighed.
After walking around the apartment, Yuuri made a mental list of things he needed to do. He was probably going to spend the next few days cleaning and tidying up his apartment – and he didn’t even see his shop yet. God, why didn’t he leave someone a key to try and keep his place somewhat in order?
Ah, yes. Because he ran to Japan as fast as he could.
Trying to keep a positive mindset, Yuuri grabbed a broom and started to clean up. Even though he felt that dreaded heavy feeling on his chest because of the pressure of cleaning everything and trying to get the apartment back in shape, Yuuri felt truly okay for the first time in a while.