Victor Nikiforov has and never will be the kind of boy to follow the rules.
Rules being a foreign concept to his juvenile mind.
He didn't see the point in not being able to chew gum in class, lips talking smack to the teachers like they were his equals.
And when he wasn't blowing on that bubbly confection, he always had a cloud of cigarette smoke to blow in their exasperated faces.
Because god, did he love the burning sensation of nicotine lighting up his twisted mouth.
And he did both of these things with, of course, his Doc Martens on top of the desk, his feet swaying back and forth like pendulums.
He also didn't see the point in waiting till he was 21 to drown his sorrows in cherry flavored vodka and whiskey that had you forgetting your first name.
Age defined nothing, darling.
And well, he (of course) didn't see the point in driving down highways at a speed between 40 miles per hour and 70 when he could speed to his heart's content.
The police on his tail and their sirens blaring over his loud stereo was no trouble for him.
In his own words, "they wouldn't give me a speedometer with the choice of a number between 1 and 200 if they didn't want me choosin'."
But of course, he knew that this rebellion of his was just silly child's play.
He did these things for fun and solely because he liked the fuming look it put on his teacher's and fellow high school student's faces.
And fuck, did he really like how it earned him some well deserved attention from his own family.
A family that could have given less of a shit about the platinum-haired troublemaker.
Because he did what he wanted, when he wanted, and didn't give people an explanation when they asked for one.
However........
Lidia Nikiforov, his fed up failure of a mother, was done asking for an explanation she knew she wouldn't get.
Especially when Victor's antics went from child's play to downright breaking the law.
That boy had walked way too close to the edge of a cliff one too many times, a cliff of impending danger and rebellion.
And it took one more bad decision for him to finally have the guts to jump off.
So of course, the only logical explanation Lidia could give her troubled son was a plane ticket to Nottingham, England.
Along with a paid tuition to an all boy's boarding school.
A boarding school by the name of Westview.
Which was a school that Victor would rather be caught dead in, and that his mother was more than happy to send him away to.
To her, he was just another waste of her time.
Because coming home drunk from the bar every night was exhausting enough already.
Especially when you'd come home only to find out that your teen son was waiting for some little ounce of attention that he wouldn't get.
However, if you had said that Victor's law breaking, not to mention record breaking, stunt he had pulled would have gotten him enough attention to send him to England.......
He would've said you were out of your damn mind.
And he would've, for once in his life, tried to lay low and out of sight.
But yet.........
There he was.
Standing at the forefront of one of the stone arch entrances........
With a button down shirt that was whiter than the privilege at this school.......
In his own opinion, of course.
Paired with perfectly ironed pants that fit exactly to his American charmed body.
And to top it all off, a burning glare was stuck on his face as he stood there with a popped hip,
tapping his foot against the concrete paved sidewalks that decorated the quad of this damned school.
And the amount of anger and disgust he could feel in this moment was almost inhuman.....
Suffocating, even.
"Fuck it," he said as he tore off his tie and threw it on the ground, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt and untucking it from his pants.....
Pants that he pulled down because he didn't need them so high up on his hips.
And because he already liked the idea of walking into school this morning with "bad boy" written right across his forehead in red sharpie.
"Much better."
But he knew that this joke of a uniform would only be complete with a cigarette in between his teeth, one that could hopefully cloud his brain enough to take away all of the hatred.
So he lit one up with the flick of his lighter and an inhale of smoke.
And he started up the walkway of the boarding school with expectations that were higher than the tall buildings in this damn city that they called Nottingham.
But before he could take one more step towards what he presumed was the entrance of hell, he was stopped by the sound of a fellow student's yell.
God....I haven't even stepped inside and I'm already feeling stuck, and his mind was spinning out of control with annoyance.
"Hey, wait up Americano!" the boy said as Victor watched him swagger over, his hair done up and his uniform on perfectly, almost as if he had ironed and patted down over and over again.
He could only assume that every other boy made it their one goal to look just like said boy in front of him.
Perfection seemed to be something that Westview boys worshipped.
Along with hair that had way too much gel in it and shoes that were way too damn shiny regardless of whether people gave a shit or not.
"God, I almost forgot I was going to school with foreigners," Victor said to the boy as he watched him catch his breath, popping up seconds later with the biggest smile on his face.
"Yeah, and clearly you forgot that you were supposed to make an expected appearance at orientation yesterday," the mystery boy taunted with in a casual tone, acting as if they were not total strangers.
He never understood how these people could find it in their instinct to be casual with everything.
Casualness, to him, was a luxury.
"I'm sorry, but am I supposed to know you or something?"
"Once again, had you been at Orientation yesterday, you would've figured out that I'm your roommate new kid," his accent was laced into his words as Victor caught on to the Swiss tone almost immediately.
"You Swiss?"
"Yeah, you German?"
"Russian, actually. American raised."
"Ah, Mr. Rasputin makes his boarding school debut." The boy's green eyes were amused and his lips were giving off a conniving smirk as he held out his hand.
All Victor could do was roll his eyes and use every last bit of energy in him to hold out his hand for the
emerald-eyed boy in return.
"Chris, Chris Giacometti," he said as he shook Victor's cold hand, the hand of someone who he hoped would soon not be a stranger.
"Victor Nikiforov," and his tone was low and bored, obviously wanting to make it easy for the Swiss boy to figure out that he didn't want to be here. "Call me Rasputin again and I can assure you that you ain't gonna have a so-called roommate."
"Damn, you don't mess around, do you?"
"Raised in the south, Swiss kid. Of course I don't mess around."
Victor quickly got bored of just standing around and waiting for something to happen when he knew nothing would, so he started up the stairs of that damned school.
Stairs that were obnoxious in length, size, and style as he left the cool breeze of a cloudy, January day and entered into the dusty, closed-in halls of Westview.
"Oh yeah, rumor has it that you're Nashville's resident bad boy," Chris said nonchalantly as Victor desperately tried to figure out his way around the school, while listening to the lingering and sloppy footsteps of Chris behind him.
This school ain't even a school, it's just a fucking castle, he thought to himself as he listened to his "roomie" talk on and on.
"Jesus, I haven't even been here for a solid day and everyone's already got me stuck under a nickname," getting his feet moving again as he turned away from Chris to make it up another staircase. "What, are there not any other fresh faces to talk about?"
"Not many. Admission's been freakishly low ever since the whole Estelle epidemic, which I'll spare you the details of."
He said it as if that whole scandal wasn't a national sensation.
If there was anything Victor knew about, let alone watched the news for in the first place, it was the Estelle mystery.
But he didn't even think he could call it a mystery with his knowledge.
"Oh please, I know all about the little crime scene," Victor said as he glanced over at the ornate walls and lockers that complimented every single hallway and staircase. "It's not like it was small town news, Giacometti."
"Good point."
Victor didn't know what it was about Chris that made him so instantly tolerable.
In Nashville, he had wanted nothing to do with all the southern kids that only cared about being musicians or famous hockey players.
Those kids' egos could stink up a whole damn high school.
And so could their constant need for attention and sex.
But Chris was easygoing, and had this, almost, cool aura that was given off without effort, that being something Victor admired....
He had to admit.
So if this kid was lucky, maybe he wouldn't be ignored when it came down to Victor's picky, picky choice of who his friends, his lovers, and his enemies were.
Victor could already eliminate him as a lover and an enemy.
He didn't confuse one with the other.
"What class you heading to, man?" Chris asked comfortably as a way to fill the silent void between the two boys.
"Only thing I know is that it's in room 306 and that it's a waste of my time."
"God Nikiforov, you and your attitude should fit right in here at Westview."
"Yeah, I'm not here to fit in."
"'Course you're not."
Victor couldn't understand why these halls were so quiet in the dead hours of the afternoon.
It was eerie.
Hell, the school itself was as a whole.
It looked like something you'd find in a foreign, black and white vampire movie.
British accents included.
And the peeling of wallpaper and its dusty shelves that the sunlight fell down on, with their particles of dust swimming through the air, was enough to set him off.
It was as if each hallway was a different entrance into the depths of hell.
Literally and figuratively.
And he had spent his whole morning in a cushioned seat across the desk from Principal Chaumont, the man who was in charge of these halls.
Talking about the transfer, the settling in, the room, classes, students, so on and so on........
So no matter how many times Chris said it, he had still gotten a good dose of Orientation.
And he hadn't even wanted it.
Let alone asked for it.
"Aye, where u goin?!" the platinum boy heard Chris yell as he stopped to turn, realizing how he had gotten stuck in his own thoughts.
That being evident considering the fact that he had made it all the way down the hallway without even realizing he had done so.
He not only was a bad boy, but a daydreamer.
"You tell me."
"Room 306 is right here," Chris' fingers pointing to an ordinary wooden door with golden numbers nailed into the middle.
Chris leaned in slowly to scope out the classroom with his shining green eyes through the single window, lighting up almost instantly at what was inside.
"Looks like you've got a fun group going for yourself, Nikiforov," his tone hinting at jealousy as he turned down the hallway and started walking off to god knows where. "Say hi to Phicit for me!"
Phicit?
What kind of name was that?
✣
Victor found himself barging into the classroom mid lesson with a single eye roll as almost every set of juvenile eyes fell on him.
Jesus Christ.
He watched the teacher look at him without saying a word, obviously expecting him to come to the front of the class for one of those cliché "new kid" introductions.
But Victor would not spend time any of his time being known as the "new kid."
Because that was a waste of his time and even more so, a waste of everyone's energy.
So without a care or damn in the world, he waltzed over to the stairs that would bring him to a seat in the back of the class, alone.
Not giving enough of a shit to catch a glimpse of some of these boy's faces.
Because dear god, who cares?
Finally, he sat down with that bad boy, Nikiforov flare and, of course......
His feet on the desk.
Doc Martens that had laces which were unkempt and disheveled, white socks sticking out at the ankles that were stained and no longer a certain bleach shade that people found acceptable
And before he could drift off, he found himself scanning the tall walls and rows of students in front of him....
Noticing how this classroom looked nothing like the ones you'd find in a southern high school.
He felt as if he had skipped his education to go straight into college, the oddly big and formal classroom being completely unfamiliar.......
But he was skipping his education anyways as he listened distantly to the sounds of the teachers monotone lecture and the excited whispers of the nearby students.
Popping a piece of bubblegum into his mouth as he leaned back in his chair to continue daydreaming.
And the three boys in front of him, unknown to his attention, engaged into a completely separate conversation that was of course, about the "new kid."
"That's a sight for sore eyes," Phicit Chulanont whispered into his friend's ear as he twirled a #2 pencil between his fingers delicately.
These boys couldn't go a single day without hot gossip and opinions coming out of their mouths like honey.
Phicit being a prime example of this.
Because he had a pretty face and a dirty mouth to go along with it.
"Phicit, write down some god damn notes, will ya?" his friend whispered in a reply, Luca Valiquette only having a mouth for intolerance.
He, unlike his two best friends, was only highly concerned in how his grades and actions came out on paper.
And everyone knew that Valiquette was the last name of their future Einstein, his fingers working pure magic on the keyboard of a computer and with a pen on paper.
He had the grades and the potential (not to mention the financial stability) to go and do anything he wanted.
So, if anyone lived comfortably, it was Luca.
Even though he barely knew the concept of the word comfort.
"Awe come on Val, you and I both know that I listen with my ears instead of write with my hands....." Phicit started with before his third member of the party let out a groan.
A groan that was bored and utterly unimpressed.
"I swear, if Mr. Whitney tries to make one more stupid history joke, I'll throw my paperweight at his god damn bald head," the boy muttered as he pressed his pen up against his bottom lip in concentration..........
With his eyes on the board and his ears listening in on his friends absentmindedly.
This boy being none other than the main attraction.....
Yuri Katsuki.
When it came down to this boy, you always found yourself giving him a second glance.
A second glance, a double take, a scan......
You name it.
Because once you caught sight of this boy, you would pray to the god's above that you'd never go blind.
And why is that you ask?
Well, he had that raven hair framing his features without attention.....
Untouched skin and flushed cheeks......
Rosy, full lips that could talk smack and talk smart.
And you were fucked if you looked into those brown eyes that could enchant you.
Those eyes had been the downfall of so many young hearts and morals.
Not that he was exactly aware of his ability to bat his eyelashes and pucker up his lips without missing the attention of someone else..........
He was exotically and erotically pretty.
But every pretty thing has an ugly side.
That ugly side being his fragile and raging temper.
And god help the souls of the ones who would and had double crossed Yuri Katsuki.
"Are you guys seriously just gonna ignore the fact that we have a new, did I mention hot, transfer student sitting right behind us?" Phicit continued on with in a whisper as Luca elbowed him in the side casually.
"Ow, you bitch...."
"Are you just gonna ignore the fact that I'm trying to get into a fucking college?!"
"God, you are so boring....."
"And you're a freaking narcissist Chulanont....."
"At least I'm not a goody two shoes......"
"You would be so lucky as to......."
Yuri listened to his friends dish out insult after insult as he desperately tried to pay attention.
His attention not wanting to drift over to the immature boys on his left side.
Nor towards the "on the edge of retirement" teacher that was attempting to teach at the front of the classroom.
Or to any other person in the room.
Especially not towards the new transfer student that Phicit had decided to invest himself in completely the moment he had walked through those creaky, ancient doors.
The student that he had neglected to get a good look at when he heard the sound of footsteps up the aisle next to his uncomfortable seat.
He could have cared less about a new, meaningless face that had come to join in on the fun.
Everyone at this school was the same and he knew that this kid would be nothing different.
Nor special.
But as he listened to the sounds of bubblegum popping over and over and over again behind him........
Along to the sound of a pen clicking on and off and on and off.......
The bubblegum seeming to almost smack in his ears and sound/go off like a gunshot.
He found himself not being able to pay attention to anything but this kid.
Because he had less patience than a damn new born child.
And his tolerance could only stretch as far as the #2 pencil in Phicit's hand.
"Pop that gum one more god damn time and see what happens," Yuri said in almost a whisper, as if he was muttering it to himself instead of to the boy behind him.
Complete aggravation laced into his words like cursive writing.
But of course........
The culprit of his aggravation could hear him clearly.
Loud and clear, in fact.
"I'm sorry, what was that?" Victor taunted with as he leaned both elbows on the desk in front of him, Yuri hearing the slight movement and deep tone of voice echo quietly behind him.
You've gotta be fucking kidding me......Yuri thought to himself as he tried to turn around with a calm and collected stature.
But calm and collected were two words that one would never associate towards the brown eyed bombshell.
"I said..........
Pop that gum one more god damn time and see what happens."
Yuri Katsuki and Victor Nikiforov were now face to face as they stared into each other's eyes.
Yuri looking straight into the turquoise, juvenile iris of his eyes that screamed "rebel with a cause."
And Victor looking straight into those brown eyes that held the heat and hue of a million burning fires behind them.
Victor hadn't done a double take like all of the other adolescent faces that had crossed paths with Yuri Katsuki.
Because well........
He hadn't even looked away in the first place.
"Am I distracting you?" he asked the fuming boy in front of him as he leaned his smirking face into the palm of his hands, eyes glinting at how truly entertaining it was to watch the boy squirm.
"There's a difference between being distracting and just downright annoying. I'm sure someone like you would be familiar with that concept," Yuri sassed back with as he completely turned around in his chair, pen still playing with his peachy cream lips.
"I think that's more of a comparison than a concept, darling."
"Don't fucking call me that."
"Oh yeah, then what should I call you?"
Victor was now completely engaged with the ravenette, feet off the desk and head leaning forward with glinting eyes, gum still in between his teeth like the cigarette he had so graciously distinguished before entering the classroom.
He would wait until after syllabus day, at the very least, to bring out the nicotine.
But he was practically daring the boy to turn around in his chair so he could see those brown eyes again.
And god, was he loving the look he could put on that boy's face.......
"Wouldn't you like to know...." Yuri said as he did no such thing as turn around in his seat, not having the willpower to look into his eyes.
God, I wish I could wipe that conceited smirk off of his face.......the pretty boy thought to himself.
"Oh, I'd very much like to know," his hand secretly reaching to the side of Yuri's face, and his fingers grabbing the pen from his lips and keeping it in his own.
"Are you fu...."
"You know, you're supposed to write with these things instead of make love to them," and Victor's smirk was growing with each comment and each sigh that escaped the brown eyed boy's lips.
"I'll do whatever I want or please to do with my pen, new boy," Yuri said as he finally felt daring enough to turn around, ready this time to actually wipe off the smirk when his hands reached out to grab the pen.......
Being unsuccessful in the attempt as Victor pulled it away from his grasp, an action that now had Yuri's arms draped across his desk along with a deathly glare.
"I'm not a fan of nicknames, ya know," Victor said, still just sitting there smugly with the pen in the palm of his hands.
"And I'm not a fan of conceited people like you," Yuri's hopelessly short arms still leaning over to grab what was rightfully his.
"You're awfully brave to assume my character within the first two minutes of meeting me," Victor taunted with as he leaned back again, still winning without any effort.
He was having way too much fun watching those brown eyes struggle for something as simple and as incoherent as a pen.
And he didn't know this at the time, maybe he'll never know, but he was doing this out of an unknown attraction to the boys fierce like fire attitude.
"Assume your character? Give me a fucking break, you're as easy to read as a predictable romance novel," Yuri practically spat out as he gave up and turned his back on the new student, knowing that his pen was as good as gone. Considering that it now belonged to a self dignified American.
"Wow, you're good with the metaphors and similes, it seems."
"Good? Oh honey, I could dish them out to you all day long."
"Try me."
"You fucking.........."
And it was only expected that Phicit Chulanont would get involved at this point.
He loved tension just (almost) as much as he loved attention.
And he'd get both in this mess of an introduction.
"You'll have to ignore hot rod over here, darling," he said as he rolled the balls of his chair over and cut Luca out of the circle, his fingers putting the #2 pencil down on the desk and now pointing to Yuri.
Yuri, who was this close to slapping the pale skin of that undoubtedly beautiful new kid with the blue eyes.
"He's too much fun to ignore," Victor said as he leaned over his desk and gave Yuri a charming smile, one that he did not accept and instead, turned his back on with a disgusted scoff.
What a damn child.......was all Victor could think to himself as he turned his attention over to the caramel skinned boy with the untouched hair.
"Care to give us the scoop into the new kid's life since Mr. Whitney so stupidly neglected that speech?" the boy asked as Victor watched a third pair of piercing blue eyes look at him from behind the Thai boy, eyes that were much like his own.
Yet, Victor's could only be described as a sparkling turquoise, that being the color that distinguished him from everyone else.
"God, at least give him an introduction first, you asshat. You're not the new one in town," the other boy asked with contempt as he pushed back into the circle that had quietly formed all by itself in the back of the class.
If you could even call it a class.
"Oh well, in that case, my name is Phicit Chulanont. And, I can proudly say, that I have been at Westview for 3 years," Phicit said with the upmost amount of pride as he shook the cold hands of the "new kid." "Oh, and this is Luca Valiquette. He's got higher standards than all of us, it seems."
Two boys out of three were no longer hopeless mysteries to Victor as he observed their characters closely.
"You damn wanker, I do not have...." Luca started with before, without even raising a finger, Phicit silenced him.
"Oh, and as you can tell, he's French as fuck."
"French as fuck and proud of that. And I can say that I've been at Westview for way too long of a time, and lived in Nottingham for even longer, it seems," and Victor could tell, just by the tone of Luca's voice and the way with which he phrased his words, that he had an unbelievable, scholarly amount of knowledge.
Something that he envied.
Along with the rest of the damn school.
"And so now we can get the inside scoop on you, blue eyes," Phicit said as he turned to Victor again with a held out hand and a beaming smile, just waiting for an answer.
An answer that he gave politely and graciously.
"Victor Nikiforov," and both boys shook hands with the feeling of comfort, knowing that they were no longer strangers.
"That's Russian, right?" Luca asked as he, likewise, shook Victor's oddly cold hand with an airy French politeness, and a raised eyebrow.
"Oui, ça l'est," and of course Victor couldn't have passed up the opportunity to express his ease of talent when it came to the French language.
"Mm, and you can speak mild French. I like you already nouveau gosse." Phicit's tone was flirty, despite the fact that he already had eyes for someone else.
But it was no secret that Phicit Chulanont was a flirt on legs.
A flirt on legs who had a disregard for other people's feelings and a deep interest in only his own satisfaction.
Which was a nice, not to mention fancy way, of saying that he was........
Well.......
Selfish.
"Seems someone isn't too fond of you, Nikiforov," Luca said as he picked up his notebook and got back to taking those worthless notes with a smirk after nodding towards Yuri.
Victor couldn't help but laugh at that true statement.
"Oh, god forbid I'm not brainwashed by his school boy charm," and that contrary, brown eyed boy that Victor just couldn't get enough of was now turned back around, his unbending mind not being able to avoid being a part of the conversation any longer.
"Awe, don't be so mean Yuri," Phicit said as Victor perked up at the single clue he had been given as to the name of the gorgeous boy in front of him.
"Ah, so that's your name. Yuri...." he taunted with as he twirled Yuri's pen in his hands with an almost devilish smirk. "Please, tell me more...."
"I'll tell you off, that's what I'll do....Victor Nikiforov," Yuri said strongly as he crossed his legs to prove a point, boring his brown eyes into Victor's as he put a smirk on his lips in return. "What kind of fucking name is that?"
"It's Russian. We've been over this..." Luca couldn't help but interject with as he took a quick glance away from his notes to look at the three entertaining boys that, much to his surprise, hadn't been paid much attention to by Mr. Whitney.
They weren't exactly subtle with their conversations and obnoxious noises.
However, teachers like Mr. Whitney didn't really have enough energy or, "concern," when it came to dealing with boys like that anyways.
"Could you be any more of a smart-ass?" Phicit turned to Luca with as Yuri continued to glare at Victor like he was the most disgusting and inconceivable person he'd ever met.
And Victor was definitely not the most disgusting and inconceivable person he'd met.
Victor Nikiforov was many, many things.
Other things..........
And all three of these boys would soon come to realize this.
It's just that, Yuri's temper and furious instincts, begged to differ.
"Phicit, can I say one thing without you feeling the constant fucking need to say something stupid?" Luca said with frustration dripping off of his chapped lips as Phicit listened absentmindedly.
"Of course not, Luca lovebug."
"God dammit....."
"Anyways, back to what matters. Where you comin' from, Nikiforov?" Phicit continued on with as he turned back around and quenched his interests in Victor, instead of in the quaint French boy.
While Victor tried to figure out why it was so habitual to use people's last names as their title in conversation as if it was normal......
And sure, he understood that this was no "out of the ordinary" concept that was only done in Europe.......
It's just that he felt no pride in his last name.
The last name that had been given to him and linked to his disaster of a family.
It was a burden for him, to say the least.
"None other than Nashville, Tennessee," and the platinum boy leaned back in his chair again with his Doc Martens crossed over and up on the desk, blowing and popping on his pink sugar bubblegum furthermore.
"Oh my god, no fucking way! So, you're the bad boy rumor that people can't stop talking about!" Phicit said with way too much excitement as Luca pretended to not be interested in the conversation, even though all he wanted was to ditch the notes and pick up the gossip.
Even Yuri couldn't help but perk up at this sentence.
He couldn't lie when it came to the fact that he was weirdly interested in the resident bad boy with bubblegum popping from his lips.
And maybe he was interested out of hatred, but there was always the possibility of something else.
Not that he'd admit it.
"As I've said before, I'm not a fan of nicknames. But if you wanna use bad boy....then I'd say it's cliché, true, and very much appreciated," Victor said with a smirk that fit perfectly on his lips, watching as Yuri clicked his tongue in resentment.
"Oh god, I'm dying to know the story behind that," was the last sentence that came out of Phicit's mouth before he made eye contact with Mr. Whitney.
Mr. Whitney, who was now towering above all four of the boys with a yard stick in his hand and a scowl on his lips.
A shadow of disappointment over the boys as he smacked the so-called yardstick down right in front of Yuri, who couldn't help but flinch at the forceful action.
But he also couldn't help but think that he was now given the full blown opportunity to throw the paper weight at Mr. Whitney's fat and flushed face.
"You know, I get it. We've got a new kid that y'all just can't help but talk to and fawn over..........but I'm teaching right now. So save the small talk for some god damn other time," and god, was this statement said with the most stereotypical tone of a teacher.
All three boys had a pact that they would finally be the group that drove Mr. Whitney off the edge of retirement.
And it seemed that if they were to add Victor Nikiforov to the mix, that they would all do just that.
"And as for you. Victor Nikiforov is it?" Mr. Whitney said sternly as he brought his attention to those unfazed, blue eyes that were loving the attention.
"The one and only."
Of course, Victor said this with his undying smirk, with every pair of eyes on him as he oozed confidence.
A dry chuckle came out of Mr. Whitney's mouth before he started up his argument again. "Alright then, Victor Nikiforov. Tell me, do you really think that this a good first impression for you?"
Yuri and his intrusive friends watched Victor closely as those bubblegum lips curved up into a conceited smile, Yuri especially not missing the way in which his blue eyes practically glinted with mischief.
They had no idea what was coming next.
All they knew was that it was nothing fucking good.
And god, was he right.
"Oh, well you see.....I'm not here to make a good first impression, Whitney dear.
There's no fun in that, and you know........
That's what I'm here for.
To have a little fun.
And I don't see why I can't cause a little trouble along the way.
Do you?"
It was one of those moments in which the whole class would be at the edge of their seats, waiting for the punishment of the student who had the stage to come out of the raging teacher's mouth.
And that whole classroom was caught up in that very moment.....
But that moment never came.
Because Mr. Whitney was no such teacher.
He talked a big game but could never seem to start it.
"Get back to work," he whispered in the most villainous, most aggravated tone the boys had ever heard.......their eyes following him as he sternly walked down to his desk and continued to teach without his own knowledge.
All except for Yuri's eyes.
They didn't have the time or energy to waste on some exhausted teacher who never wore a smile.
They were too busy looking at Victor Nikiforov.
Because god, there was something about the blinding confidence in that boy that had Yuri speechless.
That had Yuri speechless and almost......intrigued.
Along with fully disgusted, as well.
"As I was saying before......." and the boys sat in contemplative silence as they listened drowsily to the rest of the pointless lecture.
The cold air coming out of the vents hit the whole class with a draft, making Yuri shiver as he turned around in his seat and tried to ignore Victor......
Ignore Victor and the fact that he could practically feel those blue eyes burning into his backside as he mindlessly jotted down black inked notes.
But he no longer had to ignore it when they all heard the sound of the ringing, red bell from outside of the classroom erupt, along with a disappointed sigh that came out of Whitney's mouth.
Every single pair of feet were shoving their textbooks and pencils into their worn out backpacks as they practically raced out the wooden door and down the corridor hallways of Westview.
Only 7 hours and 20 minutes to go......Yuri thought to himself as he followed behind the rest of the class and shot out into the hallway, in a desperate attempt to avoid the new boy........
While also trying to ignore the fact that Phicit and Luca were hot on his tail, and practically yelling his name.
But, despite his attempts......
He had unsuccessfully avoided the troublemaker when he turned the corner only to find him leaning against a bright, cherry red locker with a smile on his lips that looked like it would taste just as sweet as a cherry.
With of course, Yuri's pen still twirling possessively in his hands.
"Watcha think of me now, darling?" Victor said as Yuri waltzed up to him with eyes that held the heat of a thousand suns and a million emotions.
"God, you think you're so rebellious don't you?" and Victor observed how Yuri had his leather brown book bag perfectly fastened around his petite shoulders........
With the novel The Great Gatsby sticking out of it, along with several other small books that he recognized as poetry reads.
He didn't know why, but he found that so damn intriguing.
And similar to Yuri's feelings about himself, he found it somewhat annoying.
"I don't think Yuri," his lips begging to say that name more times than needed and taking every chance he got to do so, "I know damn well that I'm rebellious. Following the rules is no fun at all.
Wouldn't you agree?"
Yuri didn't know what he was supposed to say to that.
Who would?
Sure, maybe Yuri found rebellion a thrilling sensation.
But that was the blind notion that he had created in his mind to make up for the fact that he had never experienced that sensation.
Yuri wouldn't admit it, but he was too scared.....too shy.....to break the rules.
His temper didn't make up for his lost courage.
He didn't want to be the kind of kid that his overbearing mother had warned him about getting involved with.
But it seemed that Victor Nikiforov was.
And here he fucking was.....
Talking to him in a dusty hallway on the first day of the second semester of hell.
"L-Look, did you have something to say to me....or are you just gonna lean against a locker and talk about your bad boy woes all day?" Yuri said as he swung his bag back around and situated himself to get ready for whatever god damn statement was coming out of this boy's mouth next.
"I have a proposition....." Victor started with as he gave Yuri a smile that was in between sweet and sly, still leaning back against that locker with bubblegum in his mouth.
But Yuri could see a pack of Marlboros peeking out of Victor's pocket, just waiting to be distinguished.
The platinum boy had been courteous, and generous enough to wait until the second day of school to pull out the nicotine.
Yuri always had this weird curiosity towards cigarettes, as all kids usually did.
He'd never tried one, and he'd never dared to.
Once again, he wasn't much for rebellion or nicotine fueled addictions.........
But he couldn't deny the fact that he wanted a cigarette between his lips more than he wanted alcohol in his system.
God knows he needed both with the kind of mother he had to live with.
"Bloody hell....." Yuri muttered as he waited for what Victor considered a "proposition." He could only imagine what this boy had the nerve to say right now.
"Still want your pen back?"
"You already know the answer to that, asshole."
"Oh yeah? Care to ask nicely then?"
"Look, can you just give me the pen and then we can do that thing where we pretend we'd never met and go on living our hopeless lives?" and you could see Yuri's obvious frustration from the other end of the hallway.
Maybe even hear it too.
"That's asking nicely to you, is it?" Victor asked with a laugh as he, without bringing attention to himself, walked closer to Yuri while still staying by the lockers.
The brown eyed boy didn't even notice.
And all he did in response was roll his eyes at the, in Luca's own words, damn wanker.
"Care to hear my little proposition then?" Victor asked as he now became fully aware of how they had somehow, naturally, gravitated towards one another.
"Oh, please tell me more," and Yuri couldn't have been more sarcastic if he tried.
"How about you walk me to my next class and then, and only then, will I graciously return your little pen? It's only fair," Victor said with practical puppy eyes as he tipped the pen towards Yuri. "Not only do I have bad boy woes, but I've got "new kid" woes darling."
Yuri tried not to blush out of embarrassment at the way Victor clicked the pen against his own chest in a teasing manner as Yuri dared to grab ahold of it.
But that god damn, black ink pen, just wasn't worth the trouble of talking to bad boy Nikiforov.
It just wasn't.
"Thanks for the offer, Mr. Bad Boy........
But that pen is all yours."
And Yuri couldn't resist grabbing the pen and holding it up to Victor's slightly open lips as those wide open blue eyes let out a shaky breath............
Leaving the pen in Victor's hands as he walked down the hallway with a conniving side glance and a strut that could put him on any runway in Paris.
And all Victor could think of as he watched that strikingly stunning ravenette walk down that dark hallway was............
God, I think I'm gonna like it here.
✣
Is it just me or is there sexual tension?
Hmm, I don't think it's just me.
The fun thing about this story is that I'm adding more interesting and entertaining characters alongside Victor and Yuri to add drama and comedy.
I'm excited to see how you guys like this book and the new kind of theme and characters I put into it.
Yay!