Afterward, I started looking at the video to take my mind off of what had just taken place, not nearly calm enough to drive myself back yet. Phichit and I had filmed informative clips over a week ago and had already polished them up, our project consisted simply of the interview and a quick response and reaction to the information provided.

I didn't glance at my phone until it started to vibrate, the time appearing on the lock screen above Phichit's name a startling five hours later than the last time I checked. I glanced at the progress on the new footage that I'd made, mildly content with the extent of it before I picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Yuri. So how'd it go?"

I frown. "Shouldn't you be on a plane?"

There was a pause before Phichit answered. "Well, yeah but I'm stuck in L.A. for the next hour or so. How'd the interview go?" He asks with excitement evident in his voice. "I bet you did amazing,"

"First of all, what is wrong with you? You didn't even warn me about your weird questions. You made me-"

"Wait, but what did he say?"

"About what?"

Phichit huffed. "How did he answer the questions? Did he at all? Did you even ask them?"

"You're just going to have to wait and find that out for yourself when you get back," I answer blankly. There was no way I was going to give him the satisfaction of that answer.

"You're no fun," he sighs. "Well, I gotta go. I'll talk to you again when I land."

"I thought you had to wait for an hour," He hung up before I had a chance to finish my

sentence. I look down at my phone, casting it the glare I wish I could send him instead.

I jump at the sound of someone knocking on the door, my phone clattering down onto the keyboard of my laptop. I watched as the window I had opened closed along with all the work I'd done. I hadn't pressed save in at least an hour. My soul leaves my body as I slowly close my laptop and pull myself away from my makeshift workstation to walk towards the door. Who on earth would be at my door? It shouldn't be house cleaning. It was too late for that, and I hadn't checked out of the place yet.

I open the door warily, a blossom of worry flowering in my chest at the sight of the men from earlier, Viktor's security.

"Yuri Katsuki you need to come with us."

"Why?" I ask nervously, narrowing how open the door was by a fraction, ready to slam it shut in a second.

"Because your presence has been requested," One says. I swallow as one steps closer to put a hand on the door, making sure I couldn't shut it. "Immediately,"

I nod in acknowledgment but don't make any effort to follow. I flinch away when one reaches for me, grabbing me by the shoulder and dragging me out of the room. "Don't touch me," I twist away from the hand.

I yelp when I'm grabbed, the world rushing past before I narrowly avoid getting my nose smashed into one of the men's back as I was thrown over a shoulder.

I'm going to die, aren't I? This is where I die, they're going to take me and I'll never see the light of day again. I can't cry, don't cry. You need to call for help, don't cry, please don't cry. Why am I not doing anything? I'm as useful as a sack of potatoes.

I'm having trouble breathing as the ground starts to move past, I can't force myself to speak, nothing will come out of my mouth even though I want to shout.

I stumble when I'm basically dropped, avoiding a collision with the floor only because someone was supporting me. I glanced up, taking note of the panel of buttons on the elevator.

When the doors open, maybe I can run, maybe I'll have enough time to find help, they wouldn't take me while there were witnesses right?

"Don't think about it,"

I flinch at the low voice and start moving as soon as I'm pushed forwards once the door opens with a cheery ding. "What's going on? Who are you?"

I'm not answered as I'm pushed towards a door that leads outside. I stop walking, trying to push back against the force forcing me ahead. If I go outside that door I might not ever see anyone again, this might be the end.

"What- Yuuri?" I turn towards the familiar voice. Viktor was standing a short ways away, looking confused as he glanced at the men holding me captive. "Let go of him," he ordered sharply.

I was released immediately and didn't hesitate to make a dash towards the more or less familiar person, only beginning to question whether that was the right thing to do after I was at his side. These men looked like they were Viktor's, so why were they trying to kidnap me? Maybe I shouldn't stop here.

"What part of asking entails forcefully dragging someone down to the lobby?" sharp blue eyes focus on the two across from Viktor, the men seeming unsure how to respond to the Russian.

"Ask what?" I mutter.

Viktor looks down at me, about to answer only for a voice to interrupt whatever he was going to say.

"Woah, Angel you look scared. What happened?" I recognizew Chris as he walks over, casting Viktor a look. "Are we still going to eat?"

Viktor looked like he'd been put on the spot as he shifted away slightly to turn towards me. "I apologize, Yuuri. I intended to invite you to dine with me. I never thought that such a simple task would be proven to be so poorly executed," he sends a glare at his men as they walk outside. I follow them with my eyes, watching as they get into the front of a car waiting just beyond the door.

"Why didn't you ask?" I regret the question as soon as it leaves my mouth, even more so when I don't even get an answer from the man across from me. Instead, he just stares at me for a few seconds as red creeps up my face. He seems a bit surprised by the question. "It's nothing," I say quickly to try and move away from the topic.

"No, it's not." Chris scoffed. "Something as small and sweet as you shouldn't be as scared as you look. What happened?" He demanded.

"Viktor said something about food," I insist, having no desire to recall the events from just moments ago. I'm stupid for implying that I want to go. I don't. I really want to go home.

"They didn't even let you grab a jacket." Chris objects.

"Chris," Viktor sighs, casting him a warning look. "Why don't you see Yuuri to the car, if he wants to come, that is. I'll be there in a moment,"

Chris doesn't react right away, but he nods before finally walking over to me, offering a hand. "Come dear, I promise you It'll be a fine night once we get all this behind us."

Chris and Viktor seemed like a strange pair, two people that you wouldn't think could get along. Chris was something near a ray of sunshine and Viktor . . . I'm not sure how to describe him. He hasn't really given away enough to make it easy to read him. He was careful.

"Okay," I say quietly and follow as Chris takes me to the car waiting outside. I join him in the back as we wait for Viktor, my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest. I try to convince myself everything is fine. I still find that nearly impossible to believe when Viktor joins us. He seems calm when he opens the door to the back and waits a moment as I scoot into the middle of the back seat so that he can join us.

"Tell me, Yuuri, did they grab you hard?" He asks, with a tone that I found slightly off, like my answer would ultimately mean something more than just yes or no.

I look over at Chris who's also studying Viktor closely. "I'm fine," I answer quickly as I turn back to Viktor. There was a pause before the man said something in Russian to the driver.

"I hope you are okay with Italian," Viktor adds a moment later.

"I like Italian," I say thinking of the Olive Garden Phichit and I like to occasionally frequent. Needless to say, I was not expecting us to pull up to one of the most upscale Italian restaurants in the area.

"Oh my god, Viktor I don't think I can even afford a glass of water here," I say looking at him before he opens the door. My heart is beating in my chest. Why here? Of course, he would choose here, he has money, but why me? Why did I agree to come?

He laughs, seeming to find my panic amusing. I can still read the judgment laced in the smile though. I should have been able to predict what he was about to say. "Oh, Yuri you don't have to worry about money. I think I can take our bill,"

I stare at him for a moment, nervous but suddenly enraptured by the look he was giving me. At least until Chris gave my sleeve a light pull to follow him out of the car before Viktor shut his door.

The hostess greets us when we walk in and takes us to a private table near the back. I sit across from Chris while Viktor picks the chair next to me before we're offered menus and water. It's quiet between us as I take my time to try and figure out what the food is that's being listed off.

"Hey, sugar daddy, why don't you help the little Yuuri out with ordering? He looks a little confused." Chris says.

I refuse to look up from my menu as the red creeps up my face. I didn't think I was making it that obvious I couldn't read Italian. And why would he call him that? Was it a joke between the two? Was it because Viktor was going to pay?

I tense when an arm comes to rest around my shoulder and pull me closer. "Well Yuuri, what are you interested in?" Viktor asks in all seriousness, blue eyes staring icily at the foreign words.

"It all s-sounds good, I just can't choose," I stutter a bit with my words while attempting to play off any antics. "What do you recommend?

"If you don't know what the menu says Yuuri, it is alright," Viktor says, pulling his arm away to look at me and rest his hand on my shoulder in a comforting way. "Are you allergic to anything?" I shake my head no as he takes the menu from me with his other hand.

His hand is a steadying weight on my shoulder and I find myself relaxing. It was as alarming as it was calming that a stranger could make me feel like that when I've lived most of my life with anxiety gnawing away at my happiness and composure.

"Shrimp, steak, or chicken?" He asks.

"The steak is amazing," Chris smiles as I glance at him. Viktor turns my head back to him.

"Don't let Chris persuade you into having something you don't want," Viktor said evenly. It was almost an order.

"Is the chicken good?" I ask quietly, he felt comforting, but the moment I look into his steel blue eyes I was confused. With one look he made me nervous again. He nods to answer my question. "I'll have chicken." It was unsettling.

"I will order something I'm sure you will like," Viktor pulls away with a confident tone.

"I trust that you won't get me anything that is bad," I mutter.

"Will you order for me too Vitya," Chris purrs from across the table as Viktor waves a waiter over for us.

"No," Viktor says flatly, not looking at his friend. Chris pouts a little as Viktor begins to speak with the waiter. I have no idea what he orders, but the names sound like they'd kill me if I'd tried to order from myself.

Chris gives his own choices before our waiter disappears.

"Aside from school, what do you do Yuuri?" Viktor asks.

"I help teach little kids how to dance," I say. "I'm like an assistant,"

"What classes do you help with?" He asks, tilting his head curiously. It's a funny thing to see from such a serious man.

"Ballet mostly. I grew up taking lessons in my hometown, and I needed money. They had an opening at a small studio here so . . ." I shrug.

"So, you are pretty flexible then. Right?" Chris smirks.

"Why are you asking? It's not like I'm going to show you," I say defensively, not even thinking. My heart jumps when I realize what I just said. "I-I'm sorry. I don't know where that came from. I just help teach like 6-year-olds, so I don't do much more than basics anymore." I rush.

"No, that's alright," Chris says. "I like to see you be a little sassy."

"You don't know me," I remind him.

"We want to get to know you," Chris's eyes flick over to Viktor. I glance up at the silver-haired man who was watching his friend intently before glancing down to meet my gaze. He gives me a forced smile that I brush off. It didn't seem like Viktor wanted to get to know me.

"What else do you do?" Viktor asks.

"I study and sleep. Not much," I say. "It's pretty average for a student."

"We used to go out and party," Chris smiles motioning to himself and the Russian next to me.

"No offense but you probably didn't have to worry about keeping grades up to keep scholarships," I say looking at him.

"How many scholarships do you have?" Viktor asks.

"I received 5 of them but I lost one recently as I went into my 5th year of a 4-year program."

"I can't believe they can do that," Chris says causing me to shrug.

"It's in the requirements and it wasn't much money anyways," I say, brushing it off. Really, that scholarship helped me out a lot but I wasn't going to say that out loud to them.

"Are there really children here?" Chris gasps in offense as one goes screaming by. "I have to behave if there are children around."

"You should behave no matter what Christophe," Viktor sends him a dirty look.

"Oh if I wasn't naughty every now and again your life would be boring, Sugar Daddy," he smirks leaning across the table towards Viktor. Chris and Viktor were close; it was easy to tell that. It feels like I'm intruding.

"Ne hrubyt" Viktor warns in what I assume is Russian.

Taking the initiative to change the subject. I look at Chris. "Where are you from?"

"Switzerland," he says, turning his attention to me after giving Viktor a look. "I met Viktor at college, we had a great time and when he went home after graduating to take over the family business i went with to go help him."

"Sounds like you guys are busy," I say trying to keep my voice level. One of the questions I didn't ask that was a follow up to questioning Viktors sexuality as if he was seeing anyone. It was looking a little obvious to what that answer was. It's not like I had (or wanted) a chance, but it figures someone as good looking as Viktor had someone like Chris. I feel so uncomfortable. I don't belong here. I don't want to be here.

I flinch when the kid goes running by again. "Yuuri are you okay, hun." one of them asks, trying to get my attention as I glance around the restaurant. We were towards the back so I could see everyone and suddenly the noise of it all was getting to me. I could hear the laughter and conversations all around us, the kid who started to scream while he ran laps. There was an argument between the parents of the child and the restaurant manager. Even the sound of forks and spoons bumping the glass plates and bowls was becoming prominent. I was cold, I was hot I couldn't focus on anything. I couldn't get myself to move. I felt stuck. I wanted to leave. I don't know these people, why did I come? Of course this is happening now, in front of these people. These important people. I'm humiliating myself, aren't I?

I yelp as someone bumps into me. Suddenly there's hot food and plates falling on me. I don't hear myself as I react before I try to get away from it all. As I scrambled to get up and away from the searing food. I feel myself hit something else. This thing catches me and holds on. I try so hard to hold back my tears.

I freaked out. I panicked. I shouldn't have panicked. Everything was going so nice, why did I ruin it? Why did I have to be like this? Nothing serious happened, so why did my body have to act like right now I was going to die if I didn't run away? I really wanted to leave, but I was too embarrassed to move.

"Yuri come back to me," the voice says softly. It felt far away. "Yuuri аngyehl, are you okay?" It didn't feel that way. I didn't feel that way now, crying in front of complete strangers. I just want to hide forever.

I don't quite understand what happens next as I'm helped to my feet and walked outside. I just want to curl up, hardly able to support myself which only makes my own horror worse as I continue to humiliate myself. I can hear them arguing, but I can't seem to understand a word they're saying. But maybe that's because they're not speaking English. Who am I to know.

Note: Hi this is Cynder, I have never let anyone other than Nyxx read my work. I am always super scared to share my work for being picked on. As Nyxx has very graciously helped me improve my writing and plot to the point I feel confident enough to start sharing my work. I have asked them to help guide me through editing and posting to get a feel for if my work is accepted. As scared as I am of everything backfiring, I would like to hear what I can work on, what is good, and I love the idea of being able to listen to my crowd to help give me inspiration. Now I will state right away I can not make every dream come true but I like putting little random things together. I hope I get a few people interested in my stories, I have a few. 

Author: Cyndersoul

Editor: Shadow-Assassin