i fucking warned you

[delecterable]

[ there had been no warning signs. which, with a full deck, should have been the first of many red flags. there should have been warning bells and flashes of danger but no, there was a tranquil quietness that settled around him.

he lived his live on a daily routine. wake, shower, breakfast, attend to clients based on an appointment book in his office, and then spend a few hours making one of the many recipes in the leaflets in his kitchen.

routine. mundane. charming.

but that was fine. or at least, be supposed it was. he had no other comparison, no other base line. so mundane it was and he lived by the clients in his book and the names sketched there.

one of which being one (1) will graham. which was fine, as he was oddly charming in the perplexing and convulsed way. a person who seemed oh so very simple but yet was impenetrable. an equal, of sorts.

so with a convenient lack of memories beyond the physical objects in his home... he prepared for his meeting for the day. whether or not it was ethical was still out to the jury. ]

Will, a pleasure to see you. Are you well?

witty title goes here when i think of one

[seasonoflove]

[ it wasn't that he was bad with directions. back home, yuuri had masterfully etched out a map of his town in his head - what was close to practice, what was closer to home, what places had the best pastries, what places were to be avoided at All Costs. things like that. streets didn't have names but rather fanciful memories in his heads; little pictures colored with fond thoughts or blips of conversations. it was enough to get by and while it had grown to be mundane to some degree, it was home. it was comfortable.

russia wasn't either of those things.

while the temperature was arguably colder than what he was used to, the characters on the street signs and the lack of memories associated with storefronts was the real change he had to struggle with. it was odd, undoubtedly, going from a plethora of memories neatly tucked away in the safety of his own mind and heart to a blank slate. and while he was certainly excited to fill that blank slate with memories of viktor, of makkachin, of their new life together and competitions to come it was -- a lot.

it was a lot and yuuri had always leaned on his family, on his friends, for that morale support. and while he was certain viktor would provide it, if needed, he felt bad yet again asking for something else. viktor had already done so much, been so much for him. yuuri didn't want to be greedy - he had already claimed that title early on in their interactions.

but there came a point where his suddenly sprouted ego could bare no more and he had to admit, plainly, that he was lost. he didn't recognize the storefronts, he didn't know which way he had come from, and his phone wasn't connecting to the cell towers. maps were useless and a cold sense of panic crept up on him, slithering down the back of his neck in the shape of sweat, to the point where his hands grew clammy and he nearly broke his phone clenching it.

deep breaths. he was an adult. he wasn't a child. surely he could navigate streets without having to call viktor to come save him. viktor wasn't his parent he was -- well, he was a lot of nameless things, and delving into that tangle of thoughts made yuuri's chest tighten even more. best not to make his panic blossom even more at a time like this. ]

Are you still at practice?

[ his fingers trembled from the cold - only the cold - as he reached up to adjust his glasses. he was fine. ]