Author's note: I know what you're thinking, two updates in less than a week is crazy! But this chapter seriously came to me so easily and quickly that I had to get working on it. It's short, but it's all to set up the plot at this point. Chapter lengths should hopefully start getting longer from here, but they'll likely always vary from one to the next.
A quick note, during some of the research I've done on vampire lore indicated and one of Eastern Europe's theories on how vampires were "born" was that when one died but the spirit did not accept death (I'm guessing in the event of illness, murder, etc.) they reanimated as a vampire. Granted, the lore states that they were really more of a zombie-esque appearance of undead, so I'm taking artistic license here.
I did some very brief research on what men's cologne typically smells like (since I am a woman and therefore don't wear cologne) and found a list of 2016's most popular colognes. Victor's cologne is based on the cologne 1725 by Histoires de Parfums, since I feel like it would fit him nicely.
As always, thank you to my wonderful beta spicenee for taking the time to look this over and help me brain storm for the next chapter.
"Oh my God, you've got to be shitting me!"
Victor pouted as he waited for the cackles of glee on the other end of the phone to subside. "Yuri, I'm serious! I even tried to glamour him and everything!"
"This is fantastic," breathed Yuri, his glee still evident in his voice. "The almighty Victor Nikiforov was outsmarted by a fucking college kid."
Victor tapped his foot impatiently as his supposed friend devolved into another bout of hysterical laughter at his expense. He had initially called Yuri to get some ideas from the younger vampire; they had met at a hotel in a small European town several decades ago and kept in touch as much as one could when traveling. Victor didn't know the circumstances behind why Yuri had been turned at such an early age – perhaps he had died but hadn't accepted it in the afterlife – but it wasn't Victor's place to pry. The two had a friendship of sorts, but at times like this Victor wondered whether or not they really were friends.
"Are you done?" he snapped, his temper getting the better of him.
Yuri's laughter subsided somewhat as he responded, "For now. But seriously, what are you going to do?"
"I don't know!" Victor knew he was whining, but he didn't care. It had been nearly a week since his failed attempt at charming Yuuri Katsuki and he couldn't get the Japanese man out of his mind. "What do you think I should do?"
"For one, I'd get a new routine. A door-to-door salesman? Come on, Victor. I know you're old, but I didn't think you were that old."
"Take that back."
"Make me, old man."
Victor sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, his brows furrowed in frustration. "Are you going to help me or just keep making fun of me?"
"Alright, fine. I guess I can give you some ideas on what to do..."
Yuri proved to be helpful for a change and soon Victor had a plethora of ideas swimming around in his head. Now he just had to pick the right one and make his move.
Yuuri sighed as he rolled onto his back, his hooded gaze directed at the ceiling of his bedroom. It had been nearly a week since his thoughts had been taken over by a handsome sales man (not that he was counting or anything) and he still couldn't seem to get it together enough to care about anything else. He attempted to work on his thesis, but every time he found his thoughts wandering back to the man and his sudden – but incredibly intense – desires.
Bringing his right arm across his eyes, he inhaled deeply and tried to recall their meeting. He didn't remember much, which wasn't a surprise because he had barely paid attention to a word coming out of the man's mouth. What he did manage to remember was a charming smile, striking blue eyes and silver hair.
(Yuuri had briefly wondered if it was the man's natural hair color, but had dismissed the thought upon seeing several girls with their hair dyed silver around campus.)
He had also vaguely recognized some kind of accent – Russian or Eastern European perhaps? – but it was subtle enough that Yuuri was unable to pinpoint it exactly. Yuuri frowned as he felt a blush creep across his cheeks and rolled onto his stomach, shoving his face into his pillow with a heavy sigh.
It was doubtful that he would ever see him again, so why was he hoping so desperately to bump into him again? Maybe he should stop fixating on the mystery sales man and try to get on with his life.
A knock sounded on his bedroom door and Yuuri turned his head so that his gaze landed on Phichit, who was standing in his doorway, a concerned look on his face. "Yuuri, are you okay?"
"Peachy."
Phichit clucked his tongue disapprovingly and made his way across the threshold to sit on the bed beside Yuuri. "I don't know what happened to make you turn into some mopey, lovesick teenager, but you need to do something about it."
"I'm not lovesick!" snapped Yuuri. Sighing, he propped his chin up on his pillow, gaze directed at his headboard. "I just...I don't know what's happening to me, Phichit. I barely met the guy – he tried to sell me time shares for Christ's sake – and I know absolutely nothing about him, but..."
"But you can't get him out of your head?" Phichit's lips quirked into a small smile at the scathing look Yuuri shot him. "Am I wrong?"
Yuuri buried his face into his pillow with a groan. After a moment of silence, Phichit heard a muffled "No..." from his friend.
"Like I said, lovesick," teased Phichit. He rubbed soothing circles on Yuuri's upper back as his friend squawked in protest. "But lovesick or not, you do have to be an adult and go to work today."
Yuuri heard an uncharacteristically childish whine escape his throat as he attempted to burrow further into his bed. "I don't wanna."
"But you have to. The rent's not going to pay itself, you know."
Propping himself up on his elbows, Yuuri glared at Phichit's smug look. "And what exactly are your plans for today?"
Phichit laughed nervously, knowing full well that it was a sore subject that Yuuri needed to get a part-time job to help afford the rent while Phichit's parents simply sent him however much money he needed to get by. "Well...I do have a class that I should probably go to today." Yuuri's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "And once we both get back, we're going out! If there's anything I've learned, it's that a few drinks will help anyone get over someone. Even mysterious sales men."
The color drained from Yuuri's face as he remembered what happened the last time he and Phichit had 'gone out for a drink'. "Phichit, no."
"Phichit, yes."
After a moment of staring at his best friend, Yuuri's shoulders sagged in defeat. "I'm not going to win this, am I?"
Phichit beamed. "Not a chance! Now get up and get ready for work," he chirped, patting Yuuri on the shoulder.
Yuuri flopped back onto his bed with a huff.
The room was quiet, only the sound of a squeaky cart wheel, papers rustling and the occasional muffled cough breaking the monotonous silence. Yuuri pushed his cart around the corner of an aisle and scanned the shelves for the correct section he was looking for. Usually, he thoroughly enjoyed the silence of working in the campus library. His conversations with visitors were few and far between and when he was approached by a patron, it was typically just to point them in the direction of the section they were looking for.
But today he wished he had something to distract himself from his own deafening thoughts.
Sure, he had tasks to complete before his shift ended, but searching for the correct section to put a copy of Tolstoy's Anna Karenina wasn't exactly thrilling. His brows furrowed as he squinted at the numbers on the book spines in front of him before slipping the book into it's proper place. Turning his attention back to the cart beside him, he ran his fingertip along the curved spines of the books as he double checked there weren't any others that belonged in the same section. Finding none, he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and grasped the handle of the cart. With some minor exertion, he pushed the cart down the aisle, wheels squeaking in protest.
He paused here and there, raking his gaze over an endless row of books and periodicals and slipping misplaced books back into their designated slots on the shelf. Slowly, he began to empty his cart of returned books as he silently made his way throughout the library. He was only approached by patrons a handful of times; Yuuri was thankful for the distraction from his thoughts as he showed them where they could find a particular resource or helped an elderly couple log on to the computers.
But it didn't matter what he distracted himself with because no matter how desperately hard he tried to ignore the thoughts mulling about in the back of his mind, he couldn't. His cheeks flushed when he remembered the fierce desire to throw his arms around the sales man's neck and capture his lips in a bruising, needy kiss. Shaking his head, he bit his lower lip as he forced the thoughts back to the recesses of his mind where they would eventually fade. At least, he hoped they would.
Determined to think about literally anything other than the silver haired man, Yuuri grabbed the last remaining book from his return cart and made his way towards the back of the library. Scratching the back of his neck, he idly wondered if he'd be able to get out of going to the local bar with Phichit that night. While he did enjoy cutting loose every now and then, he always ended up drinking too much when he went out with Phichit, which was usually...problematic.
Catching sight of the section he was searching for, he took a left and headed towards the end of the bookshelves, his eyes scanning the numbers as he went. Just as he caught sight of the spot he was looking for, he bumped into something hard.
No, not something.
Someone.
Someone who instinctively reached out to grasp Yuuri's shoulders, steadying him before he fell. Someone whose cologne wafted around Yuuri, enveloping him in a comforting embrace of lavender and just a hint of something inherently earthy.
Yuuri's heart hammered a wild tattoo in his chest, the sound so loud to his own ears that he swore the man before him could hear it too. His face and neck felt flushed and he just couldn't quite remember to breathe. His mind raced; the distinct scent of the man's cologne was so familiar, but from where?
"I-I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed, keeping his gaze trained on the book in his hands. "I wasn't watching where I was going and –"
Yuuri felt himself flush even more when the man chuckled softly, a soft melodic sound. He gripped the book in his hands so tightly his knuckles turned white as he tried to control his breathing. His eyes widened when he felt the man release his grip on one of his shoulders, fingers trailing up and along his jawline, leaving fire in their wake. He trembled as the man hooked his index finger under Yuuri's chin, the pad of his thumb brushing against his lower lip as his chin was tilted upwards until their gazes locked.
He inhaled sharply when his gaze met a pair of striking cerulean eyes, a mischievous twinkle in their depths.
"You... You're..." he stammered, finding that his brain had ceased all coherent thought processes in an attempt to keep his vital organs working.
A flash of stunningly white teeth, a sweep of silver locks and a low laugh caused Yuuri to nearly faint right then and there.
"Fancy meeting you again, Mr. Katsuki."