Yuuri smiled as he piled the bags into the shopping cart. Japanese littered a laminated paper that was stuck to the metal bars. Yuuri's cheeks felt worn from smiling at the customers so much; this job was better than the one he had before (parsel), but it still wasn't necessarily fun. Over the span of his entire life, he never thought he'd be working at a grocery store. After work, he did get to do something he enjoyed doing, but it's not like he could make a living off of YouTube videos.

He'd liked his life more as a competitive skater, but he'd never admit it, due to Yuko's constant nagging and need to be right- he wasn't going to let her be right. Unless his life got so miserable he couldn't take it anymore, he wasn't going to go back to professional skating.

His entire life, he'd looked forward to someday skating and being like Victor. Now, he was working as a cashier at the grossest, most expensive, grocery store in Thailand. Yes, Thailand. He had gone down just to visit Phichit, but because of his money issues, he had to work for a few months to be able to afford the plane ticket.

Just a little bit ago, he'd gone into major debt. Phichit said he had to stay for a while (because he had a decently paying job) so he could pay of some of his debt so he didn't bury himself deeper. Yuuri, being easily flustered, couldn't even sleep in the same room as Phichit. He refused to even sleep on the floor- which is probably why Phichit was forcing him to stay longer.

Yuuri finished off with the last customer before his shift ended, tugging his nameplate off and shoving it into his pocket. His shift had gone over today, so he only had forty-five minutes to get home to his computer, eat dinner, get his gear on (thick pants, a t-shirt, and his skates) and get to the rink. His videos usually take about an hour to film, and he promised to have them out by seven P.M every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. It was Tuesday, so people had been waiting since Saturday. It was always two days between videos, but for some reason, he always got more pleads for videos between Saturdays and Tuesdays.

As soon as he got home to Phichit's, he grabbed a bowl of pork cutlet and wolfed it down. He thanked his (Phichit's) parents and ran to his room, closing the door absolutely loudly behind him. He sat down in front of his laptop and opened it up, going to his Instagram page. Due to his laptop being a mix between a tablet and computer, he had access to Direct Messages through it.

There was a one circled in red up in the right corner so, obliviously, Yuuri clicked it and pulled the Direct Messages onto his screen.

V-Nikiforov

Yuuri Katsuki, do you mind doing me a favor?

Yuuri stared for a second. Victor must have changed his user and a lucky someone grabbed it. He cautiously clicked the message, then clicked the profile.

V-Nikiforov

Posts                                    Followers                         Following

   92                                             2.5m                                   124

Seeing the follower count, it was confirmed that Victor fucking Nikiforov had messaged him. With wide eyes and a violently beating heart, he clicked the "Type" bar and entered: Depends what that favor is.

After a few moments, a wide smile spread across his face at Victor's reply. Of course, he immediately said, I'm heading down to the rink right now.

Yuuri closed his laptop, rushing out of his room. He grabbed his skates out of the closet downstairs and sprinted out of the door, wearing socks, sweats, and a t-shirt. He sprinted down the sidewalk, his phone bouncing in his pocket. He ran into the skating rink, tossing some currency onto the counter and hurrying to the ice.

Since the owner knew him, they let him come in for an hour after closing. They left the lights on and keys on the counter for him to close up. Because of these favors, they asked for some money to be left for them in the morning. He appreciated how cheap it was, mostly because it's strange to let someone in who isn't a family friend and trust them to close up and turn the lights off.

Plopping down in one of the chairs, he pulled his skates on and laced them up. Sliding onto the ice, he turned the recorder on on his phone, using the suction cup he had on the back of it to stick it to the plexiglass walls around the rink.

Yuuri took a deep breath as he stopped in the middle of the ice; he was finally back where he felt comfortable. He was where he could do what he wanted without fear of people judging him, because the people who watched and felt obliged to comment on his videos were his fans. The hate he may get about his form, landings, etc. wasn't something that really bothered him.

As soon as he started moving on the ice, his tenseness disappeared. The sound of the metal of his skates sliding swiftly across the ice cleared his head, as well as the overall cold-ish atmosphere. His sweats were tucked into his skates and his hair was hanging in its usual position.

~

Panting, Yuuri skated back to his phone and stopped the recording. He turned it off and put it back in his sweatpant pockets. He then stepped off of the ice and walked back to the bench he'd always used to take his shoes on and off on. He sat down and unlaced his skates, dropping them on the ground next to him.

Feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket, he pulled it out. There was another message from Victor.

V-Nikiforov

Hello, again. It's not late here, but I know it's late there. Knowing the usual length of your videos, you're just finishing up your routine or getting ready to start editing, but you should go to sleep.

Yuuri+k

Can't. I have to get the video out tonight. Sorry, Victor.

Yuuri watched massaged his heels for a few minutes, watching his phone. After about fifteen minutes of procrastinating going home to edit the video and type out instructions, add music, and make sure everything looks good. He always ended up cutting something out of the video so he wouldn't look too bad. Yuuri sighed and stood up, putting his phone back in his pocket and grabbing his skates off the ground.