Chapter Text
Yuuri looks at his Bloody Mary and takes a reluctant sip, forcing himself not to wince at its empty spiciness while the barman watches him. He gives the man a small smile and nods in gratitude, exhaling in relief as the man moves on to serve other customers.
Yuuri doesn't even like alcohol but he can't simply take up a barstool without ordering anything.
So a Bloody Mary it is, overpriced, but fitting enough.
He wouldn't usually be so keen to sit at the bar, (especially since many find it an invitation to conversation, which Yuuri doesn't much care for) but in this particular venue, it's the bar that has the best view on the floor of the gay club.
It's the men in the club – that's what Yuuri cares for. They are his targets.
But not the talkative ones, not usually. They're overbearing and that's just one of their many flaws. They run their mouths too much, often to anyone, whoever or wherever they may be. Yuuri doesn't feel safe around them, as attractive and charming as they may sometimes be.
Yuuri doesn't exactly have any specific type he goes for – he only knows who to steer clear of. He sticks to his principles – it's kept him out of trouble so far.
Tonight, he doesn't have anyone in particular in mind, tonight, he doesn't care who it is. Tonight, on the evening of the 31st of October, Yuuri is at his wit's end, his month-long hunger reaching levels of painful starvation. He only seeks nourishment, anyone and everyone that could help him get through another few days. He only needs enough time to figure out the location of St. Petersburg's Blood Procurement Point, he'll happily walk off with just a few sips.
But he needs something, someone.
Thus, his search continues.
He's looking for someone inebriated, preferably alone, someone that could unsteadily sway his way into the men's bathroom (which he sees from his vantage point) and stay in there long enough for Yuuri to assume he passed out in the stall. He takes note of every man who enters and starts the stopper on his phone. The fifteen-minute mark is his signal to enter, a tall tale sign of a man who won't be leaving for a good while and the perfect opportunity for a snack.
Yuuri doesn't enjoy feeding this way, in fact, he hates it, but he's too weak to consider other, less immediate options, and too hungry to consider the morality of his actions. They hardly need all 5 liters of blood, they won't even notice that a 100 or so milliliters went missing, he figures. He hates the justification, the way he rationalizes it all, but he has to keep himself conscious somehow and some vodka and spicy tomato juice won't even begin to replace a proper meal.
His gaze falls upon a fairly tall man in the crowd, his silver hair reflecting the bright colors cast by the lights in the club. Yuuri immediately assumes it's a wig, albeit of better quality than everyone else's at the Halloween night. But there's a dissonance between the value of the man's costume and his hair; his outfit looks like something put together in 30 minutes, more for the sake of wearing something than actually dressing up. The man is wearing a black t-shirt with some writing that Yuuri can't read in the darkness of the club, alongside neon wrist and headbands and a number of glow sticks strapped to him. When Yuuri notices the dog ear headband on his head he can't help snorting with a stupid smile. Either the man has a terrible fashion sense, or he wasn't the one to choose the outfit. Yuuri has a feeling it's the latter.
He continues observing him and what he assumes is his small group of friends, all wearing either simple costumes or nothing festive at all. They've found a decently sized patch of the dancefloor and are unabashedly showing off their undeniable skills, spurred on by alcohol and each other's cheers. The only one not dancing is the silver-haired man, who instead chooses to sway uncommittedly, like most other club-goers. Yuuri would usually find such loud, shameless groups obnoxious, but there's something welcoming about them. Yuuri knows he shouldn't, that he must watch over the dancefloor and the bathrooms, that there are all too many reasons why he should stop looking, stop silently craving something he knows he can't have, but he gives in. He allows the man to become his distraction.
To his great dread, the man meets his gaze, grins easily and waves him over. Yuuri simply freezes, averts his eyes, turns back to his drink, hoping the man was waving at someone else, preferably someone coincidentally standing behind him. Yuuri's fears are confirmed when the man fills the empty barstool beside him, but he still takes a quick glance around, wondering if maybe by some miracle the man is actually approaching someone who just happens to be located nearby.
"Hey." The man calls in English amiably and enters Yuuri's field of view, shattering his momentary hope. "First time here? Wanna join us?"
Yuuri is immediately intimidated by two things: his proximity, and his accent. The former scares him because the man is, as he had somewhat assumed, exactly the type that Yuuri swore to avoid, the one that would be nothing but trouble. The latter – the all but regal British English with a gentle Russian lilt - only makes him self-conscious of his own Japanese accent that he's been trying to mask for the entire duration of his stay in the United States with mixed results.
"Oh, no, I'm okay, really." Yuuri fumbles with his words. "I don't dance."
Yuuri does dance, he's a great dancer and he knows it, but he can hardly walk in his malnourished state. The last thing he needs is to bring attention to himself. It may be Halloween and the youth of St Petersburg may be set on dancing and drinking the night away but his collapsing on the dancefloor would not go by unnoticed.
"Oh, I see." The man taps his fingers on the bar, clearly looking for a way to continue the conversation. Finally, he smiles. "Bloody Mary? Very in-character, I like it."
"Yeah, I guess." Yuuri smiles politely and takes a sip, hoping the man understands more social cues than he lets on.
"So, what's a vampire like you doing in a place like this? Searching for prey?" he muses.
Yuuri swears that if his heart were still beating, he would get a heart-attack on the spot before remembering that he is in full stereotypical 1800s vampire garb after all. It's Halloween. Right.
"Oh, no, no, I'm just…" Yuuri flashes a nervous grin, before realizing how conspicuous that is. So, he rolls with it. "Actually, maybe I am."
"Maybe you're not the only one." The man chimes before chuckling. "Actually, you're definitely not the only one. You don't want to know how many guys tried to grind on me tonight. Everyone's thirsty on themed nights."
You wouldn't even imagine. Yuuri forces himself to repress a sigh. He chose the all-too-obvious costume on purpose, hoping to find someone who would secretly (or not so secretly) have a blood fetish, but he's not certain if this is the type of person whose attention he wanted to catch. It's time to shift the focus away from himself. "So, who are you dressed as?"
"Party animal." The man announces, one hand on his hips, the other one flicking one of his dog ears. "I lost a bet."
"I see." Yuuri holds back a chuckle. It's clever for a prank costume. Now that the man is only a foot away he finally gets a chance to read the text on his t-shirt. It says I'm here for the boos. Typical terrible Halloween humor. But it might work to Yuuri's advantage. "Would you like a drink?"
His type usually wants one of two things. They tend to leave him alone once they're satisfied. Yuuri doesn't mind spending extra to get rid of the man who could cause trouble.
"Oh, I'd love a drink, but..." The man sighs with a shake of the head. "Can't drink tonight. Lost another bet."
Yuuri is starting to see where this is going, and he likes it less with every second. He hates being rude, but he feels like the circumstances are enough excuse.
"So, is that why you're chatting me up?" Yuuri only musters a sad smile. "Is this another bet you lost?"
"No." The man denies and Yuuri struggles to see a lie behind the word. "I think you're really good-looking and it makes me sad to see you sit here all alone."
"That's very kind of you." Yuuri shakes his head, gazing into his glass. "But I'm alright. I might join you later if I feel like it."
"Alright." The man grins. "I'll be waiting."
It's a pity, Yuuri thinks as the man returns to enjoying the night with his group of friends, that he can't join him, can't have a good old time on the dancefloor alongside beautiful, friendly strangers tonight. But he knows his priorities, he's aware of his deteriorating physical condition more than of his need for company. He allowed the man to take his attention off the bathroom, so by now he's lost count of who went inside and how long they've been there. It's time to finish his drink and head off to the men's room in hopes of getting lucky – though in a different way than most men at the club.
Yuuri hadn't lied; if he does manage to get at least one nice gulp of blood then he's planning on joining the man and his friends – it's Halloween after all, and he deserves to enjoy the rare night out, especially on a holiday. The only issue is that the 'if' in this case is huge. Feeding off strangers is never easy.
As Yuuri pushes the door to the bathroom open, a man brushes past him on his way out. One person less, always a good thing. On the inside, Yuuri finds two more men – one using the urinals and one by the sinks. That is apart from the men in the stalls – Yuuri knows there are a few guys in there, but he can't exactly see through walls. He's quite certain one specific stall is occupied by two people going at it but it's none of his business, and the noise might actually help. All Yuuri needs to do is make sure that someone is passed out in the stalls – which will greatly depend on his luck – but once he manages to find someone, it's all a matter of waiting for the other men to clear out of the room.
He begins patrolling the stalls, as inconspicuously as possible checking the taken ones, when the malnutrition-induced dizziness gets the better of him and he finds himself slumping to the floor, his back against one of the stalls, head in his arms. He's beginning to panic now, his breathing erratic, his mind clouded as worries that he will fail to obtain food swamp his mind, dreading the future and paralyzing him in the moment.
There's a faint voice above him now but he can't discern the words. Then there's a hand on his shoulder and his own fingers squeeze around its wrist as its owner groans in pain. Looking up at the man, Yuuri recognizes him and he snaps out of it in an instant.
"Sorry." He pronounces softly, letting go of the man's hand. It's the same man from earlier – Yuuri couldn't mistake the silver (or is it platinum?) hair for anyone else's.
"Ouch." The man winces, flicking his hand as though pain is water that he can simply shake off. He finally places his hand in his pocket. "So, are you okay?"
Oh. He must have been the source of the voice. And that's what he was asking. Yuuri quickly pieces two and two together and decides on a strategy.
"I don't… feel great." He finally says, his legs wobbling in agreement as he stands, holding onto the side of the stall.
"Did you have too much to drink?" the man asks, the crease in his brow a sign of clear concern.
Yuuri hadn't had too much to drink since he was turned – not alcohol, at the very least. Alcohol loses its effects when one becomes a vampire. Naturally, Yuuri can and does drink, though he does wonder whether there's any point to it if he stays sober one way or another. Still, Yuuri likes where this conversation is going. "Yeah, I think so."
The man is not an ideal target, not by a long shot, but if he can get him alone and catch him off guard, he will do just fine.
"Where do you live? I can call you a taxi." The man promptly offers.
"I…" Yuuri pauses for effect, staring into space, hoping the man can't see through his act. "I don't remember the address. I moved here just a few days ago."
"Damn." The man sighs, running his hand through his hair. "I live within walking distance from here. Want to stay in my apartment until you feel better?"
Bingo.
"Are you sure?" Yuuri can't seem too enthusiastic about the idea, basic social norms still apply. "I don't want to impose… I'm sure I'll be fine, I just need to sit down for a bit…"
"You should lay down, not just sit." The man insists. "Come, it's a five-minute walk. You can leave anytime you want, I just don't think you should stay here in your current condition."
"But… what will you tell your friends?" Yuuri asks, and this time it's a genuine concern.
"That you don't feel well and I'm making sure you get home." The man explains. "They don't need to know whose home."
"Okay." Yuuri nods slowly. "I'll really appreciate your help."
"It's nothing." The man smiles softly. "I just can't leave someone who's not feeling well alone."
"I'm really grateful for your kindness." Yuuri smiles back.
He really is – it's the man's selflessness that will feed him tonight.
The man's friends are soon informed and the two of them make their way out of the club. Yuuri initially feels the need to lean on the man, but as soon as they're outside, he's hit by the early November wind and it helps, somehow.
"It's okay, I can walk on my own." He assures quietly. "Just show me the way."
The man complies, nonetheless making sure to look back and check if Yuuri doesn't need help or if he should lower the pace.
After a few minutes of the slow walk, the man finally announces: "It's just around the corner."
Yuuri nods in acknowledgement and perhaps he does it a little too hard because his dizziness returns, and he trips while trying to scale the curb. For the briefest fraction of a second, he's falling, until he's not, his body suspended by something warm and soft, his forehead against something harder. He looks up, slowly realizing the man has caught him.
"Are you sure you can walk alone?" The man asks and Yuuri becomes acutely aware that he's pressing him against the brick wall of a building with his entire bodyweight as his legs scramble back into position to support him.
"I'm so sorry." He quickly apologizes, standing up properly, but unsteadily. The man is still holding onto his forearm with one of his hands and Yuuri doesn't really want to let go. He looks to the man's face, looking for hints as to what the man is thinking and that's when he notices it. His lip. "Oh no."
"What's wrong?" The man simply tilts his head in confusion and blood wells in the cut in his lip.
"Your lip is bleeding." Yuuri exhales roughly, covering the man's lips with his hand and quietly chanting a melody of 'no's under his breath.
"And?" The man's voice reaches his ears despite being muffled under his hand. "Is a vampire afraid of a little bit of blood?"
"I'm not afraid, I'm starving." Yuuri blurts out, knowing he can no longer contain himself. He grinds his teeth, forcing himself not to bare his fangs.
"So, you're, uh… what do they call it." The man calmly pushes his hand away to reveal a blood-stained smirk. "Role-playing? Is that it? You're good, I must admit."
"I wish I was." Yuuri huffs, taking in gulps of air at once, hoping that he can still calm himself.
"Okay, so let's say you are a vampire." The man nods. "Do you want a drink?"
"Yeah." Yuuri breathes helplessly.
"Then come get it." He smiles.
"Please don't mock me." Yuuri manages even though his lips are tingling for the prize that's so close, so close. "I don't want to hurt you."
"I'm not." The man insists, his features growing serious. "I mean it. Take what you need."
Yuuri still hesitates, on one hand getting what he wanted, on the other feeling like the man doesn't truly understand what he's doing. Soon, the man closes his eyes and rests his head on the brick wall, with a whispery. "Do it."
Yuuri can no longer help himself and is upon the man's lips in an instant. His tongue immediately finds the cut in his lip and rejoices at the vivid taste of fresh blood. There isn't much of it – it's a tiny cut that begins to clot almost immediately and there's only so much he can suck out of it but it's far better than nothing. Yuuri is half tempted to reopen the cut or create a new one – now that he's had a taste, a few drops are nowhere near enough – but he resists, instead finding himself mesmerized by the man's lips, soft and warm and welcoming as he kisses him, one of his hands softly wrapped around Yuuri's waist. Yuuri kisses back, the light metallic flavor still there as he savors the last of it, and loses himself to the kiss itself, the man's palm on his cheek gently guiding him further away from sanity.
It's the distant clicking of heels on the cobbled road that reminds him of their circumstances, of the fact that they should take this elsewhere. He slows, hoping the man will understand the message.
Finally, they part and Yuuri takes a step back. "Sorry." He apologizes quietly, his gaze falling to the sidewalk, somewhat ashamed of his loss of control.
"What are you talking about?" The man chuckles and Yuuri's eyes are on his flushed features once more. "That was awesome."
"What?" Yuuri blinks.
"Yeah." The man nods. "Seriously."
"You're not freaked out?" The question presses itself on his lips.
"Not really." He shrugs. "Well, maybe a bit, but in a good way! Trust me, I've known a dude who literally tried to chew my lip off every time we kissed, and he was definitely not a supernatural being. You're more than perfectly fine."
"Well, I appreciate that." Yuuri smiles lightly, not sure what else to add.
"So, tell me," The man's gaze grows sterner, though his lips remain stretched in a friendly grimace. "You're not actually drunk, are you?"
"I can't say I am." Yuuri winces. "Just… famished."
"Sounds good to me." The man shrugs. "I don't think you really have a reason to lie about being a vampire, but I'll go with it one way or another."
"Meaning?" Yuuri blinks in confusion.
"The invitation to my place still stands." The man reminds. "Maybe I can provide some… sustenance."
He deftly undoes the top buttons of his coat, subtly exposing his neck.
Yuuri wants nothing but to bite into it.
But this isn't safe. Not with a man like this. Not with someone who offers himself up so easily.
Yuuri has regained some strength now, he will probably manage to go on for a few more days – two at the very least – without another meal, he will survive without more for the time being. He is no longer forced to rely on the man. He has the option to say no.
But he's not certain if he wants to.
"Can I ask why you're so eager to do this?" Yuuri speaks up cautiously.
"Maybe I'm into that?" The man suggests. "Maybe I'm not, maybe I'm just bored. Most likely I'm just looking for variety. I definitely find you attractive. I'm certainly not afraid of experimenting. So that's probably why."
It's a weirdly convoluted answer but Yuuri can't say that it's dishonest. He doesn't think the man knows what he's getting into or why either. He thinks they might both regret their choices. It doesn't sound like a bad outcome, for a change.
It won't hurt to try – should something go terribly wrong Yuuri has enough strength to make a run for it now.
And there's always the option of something going terribly right. Yuuri wants to explore that possibility.
"Alright." He nods. "I'll go with you."
"Okay." The man smiles, before adding: "I'm sorry but I don't think I caught your name. Could you remind me?"
He couldn't have caught his name, Yuuri is starkly aware that they never exchanged names. Still, he appreciates the man's politeness.
"It's Yuuri. With a double 'u'." He explains.
"Yuwi?" The man pronounces with a confused smile.
"No, two 'u's." Yuuri can't help chuckling. "Yu-u-ri."
"Oh." The man laughs heartily when he realizes his mistake. "Alright. Yuuri."
"And you are?" Yuuri asks in exchange.
"Victor. With a C." The man replies.
"Alright." Yuuri nods and allows a stupid grin to rise to his lips, perhaps still carried on by the high of drinking the man's blood. "Nice to meet you, Cictor."
"Oh, fuck off." Victor elbows him in the side but he's laughing too and for the brief moment they share a camaraderie and a sort of comfort as though they've known each other long before.
They haven't.
But approaching Victor's apartment building, both of them are aware that tonight they'll become intimately familiar with one another.
The thought is most appealing.