Byzantium

Soulmates. Yuuri Katsuki had always thought the concept was strange. He didn't understand how it happened. How did the skin on his wrist know his soulmates exact first words to him? So, instead of worrying over finding his soulmate, he decided to persue his dream to become a world famous ice skater.

He had began skating to become the best. To be the greatest. Better than his idol. Viktor Nikiforov himself.

But sometimes he was left wondering about the three words that form a question on his wrist.

"A commemorative photo?"

Those were the words he had been staring at for his entire life. He had always wondered who would say it and why. As a child, dreaming to be a famous skater, he had always imagined the situation as a fan asking for a picture. He had imagined that he had so many fans, and that was the only possible explanation. Right?

He had accomplished something, yet it was to his dissatisfaction. He made it to The Grand Prix Final. But failed miserably and came in last place. It was astonishing how he could have such a big accomplishment but such a big failure at the same time.

Yuuri had already cried in the bathroom, well, tried to. He had gotten confronted by Yuri Plisetsky, The Russian Punk.

The door was suddenly kicked, startling Yuuri from his crying fit.

"Sorry-" Yuuri said, opening the door, but freezing when he noticed who had kicked the door.

It was the Junior Grand Prix Final gold medalist... Yuri Plisetsky. Looking at him like he was a piece of trash.

"Hey..." the blonde began. "I'm competing in the senior division next year. We dont need two Yuris in the bracket. Incompetents like you should just retire already."

Yuuri was slightly confused.

Suddenly, the younger Yuri yelled, extremely close to Yuuri's face. "Moron!" and with that, he left.

Yuuri was stunned.

Even if he did leave the sport, there'd be tons of talented new skaters rising through the ranks. It wouldn't make a difference.

Yuuri began walking through the venue with Celestino. He was on his way to leave with his head down.

"Katsuki-kun!" Yuuri then hears his name. He turns around to see Morooka Hisashi, one of the announcers calling out to him.

"Don't give up! It's too early for you to retire!" he yells, seeming slightly angry.

"It's not like I made a decision. Please don't make assumptions." Yuuri stated, not wanting to deal with the uproar.

Morooka was still trying to talk to Yuuri, but it wasn't rendering to his brain. Yuuri turned back around, about to continue his way out of the building, but got distracted. He looked out the window lost in his thoughts. He then heard his name being called again. At least, he thought it was directed towards him.

"Yuri!" someone yelled.

Yuuri turned back around to see his idol, Viktor Nikiforov.

"About your free performance," Viktor said, walking beside Yuri Plisetsky. "Your step sequence could use more-"

"I won, so who cares." Yuri replied to Viktor, sounding bored. "Quit nagging, Viktor."

'Oh, the Yuri on the Russian team...' Yuuri thought to himself, slightly dissapointed. He found himself staring.

"Hey, Yuri!" Yakov yelled at the young blonde. "You can't talk that way forever!"

'If I do have a chance, someday I'd like to..." Yuuri thought to himself, but was cut off as Viktor looked at him from the corner of his eye. Yuuri gasped. His idol was looking at him, not in the eyes, but still at him.

Viktor turned to face Yuuri and smiled. And that's where Yuuri's world came crashing down on him.

"A commemorative photo?"

Yuuri completely froze. Looking wide eyed at Viktor. Those were the same three words that were written in an angelic looking byzantium purple on his wrist.

He brought his wrist foreward and exposed it, just to make sure that his mind was not tricking him.

The same words were there, still painted in the same beautiful calligraphy font on his skin.

He looked at Viktor and spoke, not towards the man if front of him, but to himself.

"You did not just say what I think you said." Yuuri said, just above a whisper. Viktor could still hear him, having moved closer in worry of why Yuuri was panicking.

"Oh my god..." Yuuri whispered. He looked at his wrist and brought it close to his chest, holding his arm while slightly doubled over.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Viktor asked, not knowing what to do in the shorter ones panic. He put his hand on Yuuri's back. "Was it something I said?"

Yuuri nodded.

"Did I offend you? I'm sorry. Is your arm okay? Let me see it." Viktor said, feeling bad for setting off the younger skater.

He took Yuuri's arm from the said boy's protective hold in his other hand, and looked.

"There doesn't seem to be any inju-" Viktor stopped mid-sentence, his eyes fixated on the soft yet dark shade of purple on the skin of the wrist. He kept rereading it.

"A commemorative photo?"

That was the first thing he had ever said to this man.

He glanced down at his own wrist, remembering that he also had writing on the limb.

"You did not just say what I think you said." it said, in the same elegant byzantium purple.

That is what the raven haired skater had said to him.

Viktor looked up from the arm he was inspecting and met eyes with Yuuri.

Dark chocolate brown met bright magnificent blue and suddenly they both felt like they've been struck with lighting.

The electric feeling of meeting your soulmates eyes over took them and to them, it was the best feeling in the world.

It felt like they were staring for hours into the others eyes.

"Well, Yuuri Katsuki, I guess that you are the one." Viktor said, smiling, breaking the silence.

"You are the one that deserves my heart."