You didn't lack confidence, or passion in general as a figure skater, Viktor surmised. He knew it was there, the trouble lied in your drawn back nature. Whether it was just a timidness, an antisocial strategy you unconsciously used, the figure skater brainstormed everything under the sun to figure out what he could do as your coach in order to bring you back to life on the ice, or at least, coax your expressiveness to the surface as a small start.

It was testing, as all coaching professions should be. Seeing you in the rink of ice, sliding and spinning with practiced suave. He thinks you're even as skilled as he was when Viktor was a figure skater himself. Yet, and yet. There's that persistent itch about his pupil that he has to dive more into, hence his presence not even a foot farther from you right now.

The forest green robe of his was hanging on for life to his shoulders, and his eyes fixed themselves on your own with his fingertips tilting your jaw upward. Your room was the first place you retired after a fine day of rehearsals, and he just had to follow you straight here...not exactly ideal.

"Let's build some trust in our relationship," The man spoke slowly. "I want you to confide in me as much as I do, you." His hand gently moved your face impossibly close. Talk about personal space!

"Is there anything that satisfies you, {{user}}? I do wish I knew what goes on inside you a little more.."