So the next day, Ivan made his way back to the library. And if anyone asked (not that anyone would), he was going to brush up on his 'English' as his sister had advised him to.

He went to the shelf nearest the entrance and grabbed the first book there was, and headed upstairs. To read it. Obviously.

He did the same the next day. And the day after. In fact he did it every day that week, and beyond that.

To brush up on his English, that is.

If he happened to figure out the Chinese man's exact library-visiting schedule, that was just a coincidence.

Ivan liked to tell himself that.

The fact that Ivan's visit to the library only ever coincided with the other's schedule was another total coincidence. Yeah.

But how could he help himself? Some days, he'll look up from the page he's not been reading to see the little smile or laugh on the Chinese face, others he'll see a deep set frown, eyebrows knit together as he stared blankly at the thick text book in front of him. Some days he had an iPod, which he hummed to as he flipped through cookbooks and recipes (Ivan still didn't know what the thing with the cookbooks was). One day Ivan swore he saw the other man wiping a tear away with his big red sleeve (he always wore some ridiculously huge red top).

And that was another peculiar thing, on top of the cake books he always had. He always, always wore red. It got to the point that in Ivan's head, he began referring to him simply as 'Red'.

Ivan felt himself growing illogically fond of Red, too. It was strange because he never really grows fond of people. The only people in his life he can honestly say that he's affectionate toward are his sisters. Their father left them when he was young and he can't really remember his mother, and the other children in his village growing up were undesirable as friends. But as he looks up now and sees that brilliant smile on the Chinese man's face, he can't help but smile too.

Great, now he's going soft.

Every so often, a cute Asian librarian (also Chinese, perhaps?) would come by and talk to Red, bring him books or take away the ones he's read. They would smile and talk quietly for a moment, and Ivan stubbornly ignored that possessive instinct of jealousy he felt in his gut. Chances were they were friends, and friends only. Maybe she was just a very friendly librarian? Either way, the array of pinks she worked into her outfit every day was mildly impressive.

That Tuesday, Red was sitting there, reading a book (which appeared pretty good, judging by how enthralled he was with it), when some guy walked by and recognized him. Ivan watched as he came up behind him as he was reading and got his attention. Red obviously recognized the guy as well, but not fondly. The guy talked to him insistently even as he turned back to his book, obviously uncomfortable. Red tried to tell him to go away (Ivan could tell because of his body language) but the guy ignored him.

Ivan felt the urge to intervene. He was just about to, in fact, when the guy gave up and left. Ivan glared at the back of his head as he went.

Now Red looked uncomfortable, even as he settled back into reading. He must have become very uncomfortable after talking to that guy, because he packed his things up and left about an hour earlier than he usually did on Tuesdays.

Ivan frowned as he watched him go. It would be awkward for Ivan to leave right after him, so he turned back to the random book he had grabbed that day. He couldn't help wondering, though, who that guy was and what he was saying that made Red so uncomfortable.

He read a chapter or so more of his book, and left soon after. Apparently he had picked up a book called Call of the Wild. Ivan had always liked dogs, so the book made him somewhat upset, and it was easy to put it down.

He collected his items and went home, where he heated up a microwave dinner before dressing for work. He put a long tan pea coat on over his black security shirt and locked the door on his way out.

It had been somewhat sunny when Ivan had left the library, but now it was sprinkling lightly and the wind had picked up. It would probably be pouring down rain by the time he got to Circes Island. He should've grabbed his scarf before he left.

About half way to the club, he was passing by a dirtier part of town with dark alleys and shady looking people on every corner. He kept his head down and looked up minimally.

Out of the corner of his eye, though, he caught a glimpse of red. He paused (totally not thinking that maybe it was Red) and turned around, easily spotting the red garment he'd seen. And sure enough, there was that silky ponytail spilling over the back of the Chinese man's red hoodie as he walked away.

Ivan was so stunned he stood there watching Red walk away, and before he knew it the man reached the corner and turned around it, out of sight.

Without thinking, Ivan followed. A bright red hoodie is anything but inconspicuous amongst the gray skies and people of Seattle. He wasn't walking very fast, and his stride was shorter than Ivan's, so he had to walk languidly behind in order to keep a safe, inconspicuous distance (though following someone who you've been watching at the library for weeks is really suspicious anyway, isn't it?).

Neither Red nor Ivan saw the man crossing the street toward Red until he called out.

"Eh! Yao! Fancy bumping into you again! Must be my lucky day."

Ivan could see Red—Yao?—stiffen up from where he watched. And it was the same guy from the library, hailing him down. Yao visibly pretended to have not heard him, but that was not deterring the guy.

"Yao! Buddy, wait up!" he hollered, half-jogging up behind Yao, now that he'd reached the sidewalk. Yao deflated, and stopped to wait for the guy to catch up. As soon as he could, the guy threw an amiable arm over Yao's shoulders. Yao stiffened even further, but the man ignored it, and began talking. Ivan couldn't hear him anymore, but he could sense that Yao was uncomfortable, and that he wanted to get away from this guy.

He needed to intervene. They were on a relatively empty street, and if Yao got into danger with this man, there would be no one else to help him. Thinking quickly, Ivan picked up his pace so he was nearly behind the two as they walked awkwardly, the other man's arm still on Yao's shoulder. Ivan could smell the dope on the other man.

"Y-Yao?" Ivan asked, suddenly hesitant. Yao's head snapped back, glad for a distraction from the ugly man leaning on his shoulder. "Is that you?" Ivan ventured to continue.

"Uh… do I know you?"

The man leaning on Yao eyed Ivan over Yao's shoulder, sizing him up.

"Yeah, yeah we went to…" Ivan paused, trying to give Yao some sign to play along, "high school together." His eyes flickered over to the man with Yao, who had released Yao in favor of grabbing a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket and lighting one up. "I'm Alex? Remember?" Ivan stared imploringly into Yao's eyes.

Luckily, it clicked. "Oh yeah! Hey Alex! You're looking well."

Ah yeah. He was supposed to be giving Yao some kind of excuse to get away from his 'friend'. "Yeah, wow, you too. We should catch up some time."

His friend, catching on, had moved to lean an arm back over Yao's shoulder, but Yao moved away, letting the guy stumble. "Well, what do you know, I don't have anything going on right now. Why don't we go to a bar? Jay, man we'll talk some other time, okay?"

The 'friend' looked rather ruffled, but he just cursed and flicked his cigarette onto the sidewalk and walked away, taking the smell of pot with him.

"Ha," Yao rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "thanks for that. Did you really go to high school with me?" Yao asked as soon as the other was out of earshot. This close, Ivan could tell Yao was about eight inches shorter than him, and older than he had appeared from a distance. He was looking up at Ivan gratefully, and Ivan felt like he was going to throw up due to nerves.

"Er, no. I just - you looked like you'd like way out of… that?" Ivan shrugged, knowing that he sounded nervous.

Yao looked visibly relieved, but still a little weary now that his 'friend' was gone. He nodded gratefully and readjusted a book bag strap on his shoulder.

"Would you like me to… walk you to your home?" Ivan asked, concerned and wondering if he could help remove that stiff, uncomfortable posture Yao had.

Yao looked somewhat alarmed at this proposal though, and Ivan instantly regretted it. Did he use an awkward English phrase by mistake?

"Ah, yeah, no thanks. I mean, thank you, but I'm going somewhere." And with that he turned and left with an awkward smile back at Ivan.

Damn it, Braginski you fucked up big time now. I wonder if he recognized me? I don't think he did. He must never notice me, then. Ivan didn't know if he was disappointed or relieved by that thought.

Checking the time on his watch, he realized he had five minutes to walk ten blocks to the Circes Island now. Shit.

"Braginski, you're'a late," his boss said as he burst through the backdoor of the club. "Back up, bastard."

Mr. Vargas and Antonio, his boyfriend-or-something, appeared from a dark corner of the back room.

"Ivan, what the hell. You're twenty minutes late and I already called Sadiq in to cover for you. And you didn't answer your phone you damn bastard." If it was anyone else talking to Ivan this way he'd have a thing or two to say in response. But this was Lovino Vargas, and this was how he addressed people. "Berwald and Sadiq have it covered already. You can go home. Figure out how to pay Sadiq back."

Ivan took all of this in silently, and felt almost bad for causing such an inconvenience to Sadiq.

Antonio smiled and waved as he dragged Lovino off, out of the backroom and into the main dance floor room.

Now Ivan could go home and not have any distractions from thoughts of his embarrassing encounter with Red—or Yao, now that he actually knew his name—or he could go out to the bar and have a drink. A vodka did sound pretty good right about now.