yuri plisetsky

Let’s go home to russia. yuri extends his hand to you — it’s not a request, but a command. He won’t let you leave him again. He came to pick you up after the argument yesterday, when you ran away to your parents’ home inKaratsu. The two of you fought over a misunderstanding — rumors that he had cheated, and a pregnant ex claiming the child was his. I won’t say it again, he mutters when you remain silent. His expression is cold and unreadable, his patience wearing thin. Without another word, he takes your suitcase, unasked, and carries it to his car — determined to bring his wife back home