Chapter One :: Karmic Retribution

…

The bar was faintly lit up by wall-mounted lights, dimmed to a warm glow. Patrons filled up the room with muffled chatter, slightly enveloping the jukebox music. It played some obscure electronic music from the 90's. It was melancholic and energetic, perfectly reflecting the mood of regular barfly Victor Nikiforov.

He leant on his elbows against the counter, drink in hand. His eyes scanned the room once or twice. Some men caught his gaze and glanced at him with a smile, inviting him for a conversation, but Victor was feeling picky that night. Not just anyone will do – not anymore.

A good-looking man like Victor with an abundance of charm could choose whoever he pleased, and he went along with that lifestyle for a while. "And why not?" He thought once. When a crowd of like-minded men fell to his feet so easily, he believed that there'd be a shot at finding love amongst them. Although, thanks to this, he came to live with his heart on his sleeve, putting all his efforts into these encounters with high hopes for something more… but it only made the backlash of failure that much more difficult to endure.

Victor thought he loved once or twice. But it always ended too quickly. He'd find himself lying in an empty bed, wordlessly watching his partner from that night shuffling back into their clothes and head for the door. No promises of a future. Not even the promise of breakfast. It'd start off with sweet whispers of passion, forming the hope for a love that Victor buried deep in his heart. Then it'd always end the same, a complete mood whiplash, as the once sweet words turned cold and distant… and so cruel.

With their desires sated, then there's no more use for someone like Victor. He was left alone, in a mess of his own doing, lamenting in self-hatred for falling victim to his own emotions yet again.

"How naïve can I be? Stupid… stupid… stupid…"

So, he decided once and for all – not anymore!

That night, he avoided all their lecherous stares as coldly as they had once treated him. Victor was hurt too deeply to keep going the way he had. This time, he knew for sure, it would be different. This time he would meet someone to hold on to, someone to cherish beyond what his body could offer, someone to genuinely connect with…

His thoughts broke apart into splinters when a sudden glaring sheen of light flickered across the room. It was fleeting, like the rotating flame of a lighthouse, and it immediately caught Victor's attention.

The crowd parted like the Red Seas, fluidly framing and revealing a lean figure in the entranceway. Unkempt raven hair. Slender shoulders beneath a plainly coloured trench-coat. Restless hands squirming in the pockets. A nervous-looking man – must be his first time in a gay bar. He kept his head lowered to hide his shy gaze, with glasses so large, it caught the dim room lights and reflected them like glinting sirens.

Victor brought the rim of his drink to his lips, but he didn't take a sip. His attention was too focused on this newcomer. Though he wondered why. It's not as if he's never seen this type before – men without confidence in their sexuality. Victor recognised it in the way he looked around anxiously like a lost child. He was young. Innocent and inexperienced. Hopelessly out of his depth. But intensely curious nevertheless.

He wandered aimlessly to the bar, purposely where it was most quiet and dark. He didn't want to stand out. He lurked on the side-lines, hidden beneath the safety of the shadows. He ordered a strong drink, most likely to calm his nerves. Every so often, he'd press his lips together and tighten his grip around his drink. He was lost in thoughts for the most part, and had only looked around the room once or twice before returning to face the counter. It didn't look like he had any intention of approaching anyone that night.

Of all the men in the room, Victor hadn't expected to be so interested in someone like this. He was completely opposite from his past lovers – so unsure of himself, with a forlorn expression casting an air of complex sorrow. There was internal turmoil within him, which was to be expected from a confused youth in an unfamiliar world.

But it wasn't pity that Victor felt for him. Though he was sympathetic, there were surfacing feelings of nostalgia that struck at his heartstrings. This stranger brought up deeply-buried memories of Victor's earlier days – the first time he discovered his attraction for men, the first time he was approached in this very bar, and the first sexual encounter he ever had… leading to the first cruel awakening to an empty bed the next morning.

Men can be merciless. And men can be weak. Victor learnt these the hardest way. When all he wanted was to be loved, he accepted any kind of love he could find. He came known to be an easy target to take advantage of. Night after night, he'd be chewed up and spat out, until it became a hopeless routine. And eventually, sex was the only kind of love he ever knew of.

He could stand back and watch the same fate fall to this stranger. A fresh target. A whole new body to soil. He could see the potential ruin as it happened to himself… it'd be so easy…

But he couldn't. Victor understood, more than anyone, how much the pursuit of love can hurt. The energy wasted in its efforts can tear away at a person's soul, leaving them as a hollow shell, swallowed in loneliness… it's too much… too much…

…

The bartender slid a cocktail drink across the counter, ripping the newcomer out of his distant thoughts. He stared quizzically, with his lips hung open with silent questions.

The bartender answered, "Courtesy of the creature to your left."

He blinked in bewilderment before turning over his shoulder. There, he finally met with the silver-haired barfly, smiling broadly.

And the glowering sheen of the stranger's glasses disappeared, revealing his large youthful eyes peering to Victor beneath a curtain of thick lashes. The warm glow of the wall-mounted lanterns reflected deeply within the umber colour of his irises – they glistened like the reflection of moonlight on water. His flustered expression brought rouge colours to his face as his lips tightened into a jagged line. For as tense as he was, Victor liked the look of him. He liked how his glasses would absently slide so slightly down the bridge of his nose. He liked the few odd strands of hair twisting in uneven directions. He liked how attractive it looked nonetheless. The stranger was unmistakably attractive.

"Thank you… for the drink." The stranger nodded, avoiding eye contact with Victor for a moment. His voice was quiet, evidently introverted, like it had caught in his throat.

Whilst Victor's approach was gentle, he was strikingly affectionate with his gaze, "It's fine. Looked like you needed it."

"…is it that obvious?"

"Only because I haven't kept my eyes off you from the moment you walked in here."

"I…" The boy flustered, with scarlet shades filling up his face to his hairline. Though he scrutinized Victor with a look of disbelief, he dismissed the man, "You're joking."

"I'm not." Victor smiled innocently, and pointed his slender fingers to the glass on the counter, "That's the same drink you ordered when you arrived, see?"

The stranger couldn't respond. This revelation dried up his mouth. And as if he'd been prompted, the boy took the drink to his lips and tilted his head back. Victor carefully observed the lump in his throat lift with every sip, elegantly revealing more of his strong jawline, effectively framing his good-looking profile. Victor unconsciously gulped – his throat had dried up too.

As the stranger finished his drink, sighing deeply to exhale his nerves, he commented, "…it tastes a little stronger this time."

"Might not be the exact same blend." Victor mused with a grin. And he confidently leant forward, with his chin rested in his palm, "Are you disappointed?"

The stranger spoke rapidly, anxiously aware of Victor's closeness, "No… no, it's just that I… I'm just a little… out of my depth…"

"I think you're doing well. You're here. That's a big step in itself. Takes a lot of courage to come into these places without accepting a few things about yourself." Victor assured him with his genuine kindness, "I mean it. It's really admirable."

For a moment, it seemed as though the poor stranger was enraptured by Victor's honest words, held by his intensely curious gaze… all because Victor couldn't find the will to reel back his emotions, like he promised he would. The boy was too endearing, unlike any of the men he's been with before. He was like the small spark of a flame that flared the beginning of an addiction. In turn, that nagging voice in Victor's mind which told him to ease off had quietened – burnt out by the flame.

The stranger remarked, "You seem… pretty seasoned."

"I suppose so. Is that an indirect way of asking if I come here often?"

"Oh, I… I didn't mean to, um…"

Victor laughed softly, feeling hopelessly sadistic in the way he enjoyed his reactions, "I'm just teasing you. It's not really something I can take offence to if it's true."

The stranger pursed his lips into a small pout, "Wasn't implying anything by it. You just seem so out of my league…"

"Wow, really?" Victor's eyes widened, genuinely surprised by this, "Then what league would you consider yourself to be in?"

"I don't know… maybe, third league… bottom of the division…"

Victor didn't scoff. He didn't react negatively. Instead, as the tiny voice of the stranger faded into the background with the jukebox music, the tips of Victor's fingers lightly touch over the shape of his ear, intimately stroking the loose strands of his hair caught by his glasses. The stranger inhaled sharply. He was frozen, struck by the burning sensation from where he had touched. His eyes, trembling like the ripples of disturbed water, met up with Victor's fierce gaze – gleaming with overwhelming sadness.

"Why on earth would you think that? If only you could see how you look through my eyes, then you wouldn't think that way about yourself."

Victor's voice was low. Insanely seductive. The stranger felt hot, swelling with a mixture of flaring curiosity and embarrassment.

And he whispered, "…who are you?"

"I'm Victor, Nikiforov. Russian descent, with barely any of that infamous alcohol tolerance. But I'll have another round of drinks if you'll promise to take care of me tonight."

Finally, the young stranger smiled. Victor liked how his glasses lifted, and how the umber in his eyes warmed. He nodded and replied calmly,

"…alright."

From then on, their conversation flowed more naturally as first meetings usually do. The topics bounced from shared interests to profound discussions, from hilarious stories to personal experiences. The more drinks they ordered, the looser their lips became. Victor was sure he had opened up too much about one or two things, but it didn't look as if the stranger had minded. He appreciated that. He liked how hard he tried to keep up with the conversation. Victor could tell he wasn't an out-going person, but he really liked his modesty. His personality was a refreshing break from the usual overly-confident crowd. It was calming, welcoming, like the feeling of returning home.

And his jaw ached. Victor hadn't stopped smiling all evening. He couldn't remember the last time he smiled that much. He couldn't remember the last time he wanted to flirt that much. The young stranger responded so honestly, Victor didn't need to hear his voice as much as read his expressions – it was interesting how someone could be so reserved, and yet so blatantly exposed. It was captivating.

Especially when they danced. Victor's intoxicated state blurred his senses in spurts, so he couldn't even recall how they ended up there on the dance floor. But he couldn't give much thought to pretty much anything as the boy loosened up over the evening, and practically wrapped his arms around his shoulders, moving at a surprising rhythmic pace to the music.

Amongst the flickering neon lights and the dizzying allure of the stranger's movements, pressed up dangerously close to his body, Victor could barely form a single coherent thought, as the pace of his heart flipped over too many times to deny how good it all felt. It was fun – he felt himself come alive, like he hadn't lived prior to their meeting.

Eventually, fuelled by alcohol and adrenaline, they stumbled out the bar from the back entrance in fits of laughter. Victor had no clue when they'd began laughing. He'd no idea what was so funny to begin with, but regardless, he couldn't stop. The boy's laughter was infectious, and his smile so sweet. Victor's hands hadn't unlinked once from the youth as they staggered through the dim alleyway. He didn't want to let go. Through the blur of intoxication, he could only feel unconditional happiness, and the temptation to keep him close. They held desperately on to each other however they could… hands... shoulders… waists…

Victor suddenly fell forward, caging the stranger between his arms as they leant against a brick wall shrouded in shadows. Their laughter died down as their faces drew close. Faint muffled music sounded from an open window nearby – it was that same energetic song that had played when Victor first saw him. And when the youth held tightly on to Victor's collar, pleading in his silent way as his head slowly tilted, a fierce impulse shocked every remaining sense in Victor's body…

Though his awareness was shot and his cognitive skills were in shambles, Victor concentrated everything he had on gently cradling the boy's face in his hands, faintly lifting his glasses from his nose to slide into his hair. Blurred vision or not, Victor liked looking at his face all too much. The only exception he found better than that was when he leant slowly forward, and tenderly kissed him.

A fire. It burnt too passionately to take this too slow. They rushed the kiss with an unexpected urgency, as they suddenly parted their lips and hungrily pierced their mouths with quick and invasive tongues. Decency was disregarded as their hands swarmed through their hair, over their bodies, beneath their clothes, and they moaned responsively. Victor couldn't take it – his skin suddenly felt all too sensitive to touch, as if the peak of pleasure was breached already.

As their lips shaped together, the stranger groaned,

"…Yuuri."

"What?" Victor asked through the blaze of his kisses.

"My name. Yuuri."

Victor smiled, wondering how a sound could be so beautiful. "Yuuri… Yuuri…"

He ventured his kisses from the boy's mouth to his jaw, and felt him shiver beneath his lips. Yuuri was melting, submitting so easily to the careful way that Victor handled him. His head tilted, and his breath came out ragged. If his back hadn't been supported by Victor's arm, crawling slowly around his waist, Yuuri's knees would have buckled. Victor felt it so evidently as he held his hips against his, shaking in anticipation…

So, Victor decided that night – he wouldn't make them wait any longer. And called up the nearest taxi… to the nearest bed.

…

4am.

Clothes scattered amongst the floor. Evidence left behind on the sheets. Drunken memories fragmented in splinters.

Victor stared at the digital clock on the bedside table, blaring violent-red numbers that made his head pound. Sobriety was slowly returning. He remembered pieces of conversation from earlier, most notably when Yuuri had given the address of his apartment to the taxi driver. Looking around the room, wall-mounted photos and discarded clothes indicated that's exactly where they ended up.

And immediately, Victor retreated. He buried his head in his hands, torn apart by confliction – he's never been brought back to someone's home before. He fool-heartedly expected to wake up in an unfamiliar hotel room like so many times before… definitely not a small apartment bedroom. It felt too personal, like he was seeing a side of Yuuri that he had no place to invade. Everything was moving to a pace he wasn't used to… it's too fast!

In a flurry of fear, Victor grabbed his clothes and yanked them on. He wasn't entirely sober just yet, so his steps were uncontrolled and clumsy. When he nearly fell forward into a bookshelf, his heart dropped to his stomach as he twisted towards the bed, hoping he hadn't woken up…

Yuuri.

He was passed out cold, barely making a sound as he slept amongst the dishevelled sheets. His shoulders lifted and fell at a peaceful rhythm, blissfully unconscious. Victor stared in bewilderment. Although he knew he shouldn't be, Victor was incredibly surprised by how uncomfortable this was – he'd never woken up with a partner still beside him. This situation was strange and frightening, like an unlawful breach in his morbid routine.

Suddenly, blinded by the alcohol in his system, Victor was angered by this: "Why did you bring me here? Why haven't you left me by now? This isn't how it's supposed to work!"

But the temper was short-lived. It always was. Victor kept his frustration within, overshadowed by the spontaneous sense to act.

He had to get out of there. The fear was too great. His heart didn't know how to respond to any of this. He only knew that he didn't want to get hurt. Not again. He didn't want the pain of rejection to return. His stomach turned over nauseously. Terror had overridden his woken state.

He'd met someone who ignited his life. It was uncomfortably familiar, and new all at once. He remembered this heightened feeling of attachment once before… so many times before… it was thrilling, it was everything he wanted, and in his panic, he refused it outright. He remembered all too well how the inevitable comedown from this ecstasy was too agonising. It ripped away at his innocence, tearing apart his heart into a hollow husk, leaving him broken and woefully cynical. Loneliness greeted him then. And it hurt, so much.

So, he grabbed everything he'd brought with him and left the apartment. He couldn't find the strength to look back. It may as well have been another world, as he escaped like his life was on the line. It definitely felt like it was.

The summer sun was barely rising over the skyline as Victor walked the empty streets. His steps felt light, like he was still within a dream. In this purgatory between consciousness and intoxication, a new feeling slowly settled within. Regret. Once he had cleared the apartment and escaped what he might've faced, he gradually realised the true extent of his kneejerk reaction…

He'd left Yuuri alone. Just as all of Victor's lovers had done before.

"Hypocrite… you're a hypocrite…"

Self-hatred in a new form set in. He'd been moulded by the men he had slept with. He'd become exactly like them. He took advantage of a confused young man and used him. Just another one-night stand. A casual fuck. Exactly what Victor had come to loathe.

Victor ran his hands through his messy silver hair and finally noticed himself trembling. He nearly laughed – really, how cowardly.

An internal conflict of fear and melancholy wrought his sobriety. Yuuri shook his world apart, and Victor let it crumble to pieces.

But still, despite the emotional scars of his past and his remorseful present… in his vain hope, Victor had left a scrap piece of paper with his phone number behind.

…

TBC.

Thanks for reading the first chapter! Second one coming up soon!