Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The book shop was off main street, just down the street and to the left.

It was small, each and every crevice jam packed with terribly mismatched books. There were books nearing fifty years old, and ones that had been published just months ago. It was a hodge podge of literature, with everything from the classics to vampire romance. Squished in between a law office and an old dry cleaners, the shop was anything but a chain store. It was barely breaking even each month, relying on a steady clientele to keep it afloat these days.

Yuuri had been hired by the nice older man, Mr. Jones, who owned the shop when it became clear he himself was too far up in years to run it himself. He had been the obvious pick, having both a bachelor’s in English Literature and master's in Renaissance Literature. When asked why he hadn’t gotten a PhD, he had just said that he wasn’t sure the eight years of school was too much for him.

What a lie that had been.

Yuuri had dreamt of nothing but burying himself in his studies, of losing himself in Marlowe for days on end. It was all he had ever thought about, that Doctor in front of his name. It had driven him for so long, sustained him on so many weary nights, that now that it seemed out of reach he was lost.

So he had taken the first job he’d found and settled into life in his old hometown, forgetting the life he had once known and the dreams he’d had. He’d let all his journal subscriptions end and tried his best to move on with his life. He had gotten rejected from grad school and that was all the rejection he could handle for right now.

It was nice. There was no stressing about due dates, no ridiculously late nights spent in the library. No more Red Bull fueled days, followed by sleepless nights. There was no pressure here, nothing he did was being graded. But all it would ever be was just nice.

The store had received a new shipment today and it was Yuuri’s job to go through and sort them into the appropriate categories and then shelve them. Most, it appeared, where children’s books, judging by the colorful pictures and large font. They were easy enough to shelve and Yuuri finished the task quickly, moving on to the last set of books.

He stopped when he saw them.

Hamlet in Purgatory by Viktor Nikiforov was written in bold lettering across the cover of the book, an old Renaissance painting of angels ascending in the middle.

Dr. Nikiforov had been Yuuri’s inspiration in his undergrad. He had followed him closely. He had been the reason that he had taken up Renaissance studies in the first place, inspired by the professor’s writings. Dr. Nikiforov was only a few years older than him, but he had sent shockwaves through the community when he had gotten his PhD at only 23 years old, an almost inhuman feat. He had published a number of now well known pieces. He was respected by all, and considered to be a renowned scholar. Though he mainly lived in Russia, he was known to visit the states to see his colleagues as well as to do some research.

Every new piece Dr. Nikiforov published Yuuri had read. There were stacks of the man’s work on Yuuri’s desk, each thoroughly annotated with bright highlighter and multi colored pens. There was no scholar quite like him; with graceful and almost poetic prose, he made his points clear and complex at the same time. His research was impeccable and incredibly thorough, leaving no stone unturned. The man was a God among scholars, untouchable and clearly cut from a different cloth. Whereas most of his peers were old with balding heads and drooping posture, Viktor was a picture of youth.

Although his hair was grey, it was by no means old or unattractive. If anything it added to his dignified appearance. He was always well dressed in a crisp white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up and the top button unbuttoned. Typically, he wore a well fitted pair of black slacks and handmade Italian leather shoes. He was always extremely well dressed, from what Yuuri remembered, as befitted someone of his standing. From what he read, Viktor was known to pal around with a few other Renaissance scholars, though not Shakespeareans like himself. Christophe Giacometti was well known for his work on Ben Johnson, which was fitting considering how self absorbed the two were, and the scholars were said to be quite close friends as well as working together on numerous pieces.

Yuuri remembered the countless nights reading Dr. Nikiforov’s pieces in his favorite chair in the library. It was a bittersweet memory. While he no longer had the stress of being in a high intensity program such as the one at UConn, he found he missed the academic life. He missed the nights spent scouring JSTOR and the days spent proof reading his drafts.

But there was no going back now; he had failed so now he had to move on and leave it all behind it.

He gazed down at the book in his hands. He used to follow Dr. Nikiforov so closely. Not long ago he could be found running to the library when he got the e-mail that the man had published something new. Yuuri had often wasted almost all of his printer credit printing out the man’s work, and his peer’s responses to it. His friend Yuuko used to have lend him her credit. She also had to wake him up when he often fell asleep during their study sessions.

Yuuko had been a good friend to him, always there when he needed her, always pushing him to be better. She was married now with triplets. It seemed everyone from his master’s program had found their place in life while Yuuri was still struggling to find his.

All he had wanted was to be considered Dr. Nikiforov’s peer, to publish something in the same journal as him. But it hadn’t been in the cards.

He sighed, looking at the book, tempted to read it, to relive his past. He turned it over to the back cover where it was filled with rave reviews from esteemed establishments such as the New York Times Book Review and the London Review of Books. Just the fact it was being distributed in bookstores, especially tiny ones such as this, was incredible. Critical pieces on Shakespeare were usually kept to chain stores, and that was only if they were influential works. This was another incredible feat to add to Dr. Nikiforov’s already long list of achievements.

Looking over his shoulder and seeing the book store empty, he quietly flipped to the last pages. Dr. Nikiforov was as handsome as ever and his biography was the same. A few of the girls in his classes had positively fawned over the man. With his dashing heart shaped smile and his natural charisma he seemed to charm everyone he met. Yuuri had seen a number of his presentations on YouTube and in each one the man always managed to easily convey his complex points and charmed the audience with his quick wit.

In contrast Yuuri almost always seemed to flub his presentations, getting anxious in front of the crowd he would refuse to make eye contact and simply read off his paper in a monotone and quiet voice. He never seemed to be able to work the crowd like Dr. Nikiforov did. However, his grades usually seemed to balance out as he always excelled in his papers.

If only Vicchan hadn’t passed away.

Shoving the painful memories from his mind, Yuuri glanced one more time at the portrait of Dr. Nikiforov before shutting the book and getting to work with shelving them. However, one look in the box and he was immediately confused as there were an unnecessarily large amount of books in the box. Yuuri was a bit confused, there was no way his boss could have ordered this many; they only needed five to ten tops. Curious, Yuuri opened the other card board boxes and found that they too were filled with the same book.

How odd, Yuuri thought to himself. Perplexed by this, he decided it was best to speak to the owner himself. He walked over the counter where the phone was. He picked up the outdated phone and dialed the stores owner, the number written on a piece of scrap paper taped to the top.

“Hello?” a raspy voice responded after the second ring.

“Hi, it’s Yuuri,” he answered.

“Yuuri, good to hear from you, my boy. How’s it going over there?”

“Good, I just had a question. We received a couple boxes of a single book, Hamlet in Purgatory by Viktor Nikiforov. I can call the warehouse if you want, tell them they sent us the wrong order,” Yuuri said.

“No need to, I ordered them. I must have forgot to tell you but Dr. Nikiforov is coming to do a book signing in a week or so. I think Saturday, I have to double check. I keep misplacing my calendar,” he rambled on.

Yuuri however, stood frozen. Viktor Nikiforov...here? His brain couldn’t process it all as Mr. Jones rambled on.

“Ah here it is. Yes, Viktor will be there Saturday, it seems. The books got here just in time then, that’s good. You know they’re calling for a big snowstorm this weekend, I hope it doesn’t ruin the event. I’m hoping the signing will drum up some business, it’s been so quiet this winter and Yakov’s an old friend of mine,” he continued on.

“Yakov Feltsman?” Yuuri blurted out, surprised at the name.

“Yes, we went to school back in the...oh you don’t need to know how old I am. Once you get past a certain age it doesn’t even matter anyways. What was I on about? Ah! Yakov Feltsman, brilliant man. Anyways, we still keep in contact and I was talking about my low numbers, seems winter brought everything to a bit of a halt. Anywho, he suggested his protegee Viktor come up and do a signing. He’s published a bunch of things according to Yakov, but this is his first major book so he wanted to do a test signing. Of course I said he could have it here, why wouldn’t I? Viktor’s such a nice young man. Plus, it might help business a bit so I said of course.” He continued to ramble on about the weather and his joints, but Yuuri tuned him out.

Viktor Nikiforov, the world renowned Shakespearean, was going to be in the same room as him. Yuuri could feel his heart speeding up at the thought, a panic setting in. There was so much to do. the shelves had to be duster and everything had to be cleaned and what on Earth was he going to wear?

“Yuuri, are you still there?” Mr. Jones asked.

“Y-Yes,” Yuuri stammered out, brought back out of his mental to do list.

“Ah! Good, you know these days I don’t even know when someone hangs up I just keep talking until the little beeps start. Anyways, I’ll need you to prepare some signs and clean the place up. Get things ready for the big day? When is it again? Oh, right Saturday! That gives you about, oh what is it today, Tuesday? That gives you enough time right? Right, you’ll be fine. Just make sure the shop’s presentable that’s really it. You should be fine. Viktor’s a nice young man. Anyways it’s not that big of a deal, are you familiar with his work at all? Didn’t you do Shakespeare?” Mr. Jones asked.

“Sort of.” Yuuri replied.

“See then, you’ll be fine, I might stop in Sunday to say hello. I haven’t seen him since he got his masters you know. Yakov used to bring him by every once and awhile to see my personal collection. I used to be quite the collector back in the day, Yakov and I made quite the team if I do say so myself. Anyways, I’ll let you go you probably have things to be doing. I’ll try to stop in at some point. Have a good one Yuuri,” he said in his typical jovial tone.

“Bye,” Yuuri managed to get out before the line went dead. He hung up the phone, completely bewildered. He couldn’t believe it. Not only did Mr. Jones know Dr. Yakov Feltsman, he knew Viktor Nikiforov, and he was coming here.

Yuuri had to hold onto the counter as he desperately was trying to keep it together. Viktor Nikiforov would be here in a few days. There was really no time to lose, not a second to spare. He tried to steady his nerves. He knew the first thing he had to do. Slowly, he walked over to the stacks of cardboard boxes. It had been almost a year since he had decided to move on, and he had tried so hard to put the past behind him. But it seemed Shakespeare wasn’t quite done with him yet. Yuuri sighed, looking down and picking up the book slowly. Perhaps the universe had a plan for him after all, a date with destiny and the Bard.

_____
Yuuri was exhausted.

He prayed the Red Bull he was sipping on would kick in and bring him back to life after last night. Originally, he had vowed to only read a few chapters and finish it on his down time the following day. However, after reading the first pages he knew that wasn’t going to happen as he fell into the familiar rhythm of reading a critical piece.

It was good. Scratch that, it was brilliant. Yuuri was hardly a fan of New Historicism, a literary theory that focused on studying the time period and culture the piece was written in using primary sources from the time such as diaries, but even he had to admit it was a compelling argument. In it, Dr. Nikiforov once again put forth a brilliant new read of the play Hamlet based on the idea that Hamlet’s father was in purgatory. It was incredibly well researched and the prose seemed to flow forth effortlessly. Yuuri had found himself turning page after page with eager anticipation at what lay ahead. He was never disappointed. For every claim made there was another source to back it up. All of it was very thorough, not leaving a stone unturned.

While it had been an absolute joy to read, Yuuri’s heart ached at the thought of the life he had left behind. He knew how to find those sources, the late nights spent up on Early English Books Online (EEBO) searching for primary sources, and then the even later nights spent trying to decipher what it meant. All the times spent vetting sources, scouring the databases for anything. The frustrating search for the right terms to plug into the search engines, the joy when you finally found the right words and phrases. Yuuri missed going up and down the aisles, looking, searching for that bit of information that would prove him right.

He missed it all of it, all the moments of strife and all the moments of success.

But there was no going back now. He simply hadn’t been accepted due to the large volume of competitive applicants that year. Sure, he could try to apply again but that meant having to admit he failed the first time and Yuuri was certainly not ready to face the pressures and scrutiny of the academic world again.

As much as he wanted to be Dr. Nikiforov’s academic peer, to be on the same level as that brilliant man, he wasn’t.

He looked down at the blue and silver can, remembering it being the drink of choice back in his days as an undergrad and then grad student. It still tasted like procrastination and panic. He gulped it down nonetheless and prayed for some kind of motivation to get to cleaning the shop.

Yuuri got to it, choosing to first focus on dusting the shelves, when his phone buzzed. It was Phitchit, his best friend and former room mate.

He and Phitchit went way back. They had met during orientation their freshman year and had been close every since. Phitchit was an interesting scholar. He focused on the Fantasy genre and was often recommending Yuuri shows, books, and even fanfiction. Last he had heard, Phitchit was attending a conference with the paper he had recently authored on Firefly. Yuuri had a lot of respect for his friend; he was good at what he did and very passionate about it. It seemed the man always had a new paper topic and was always working on something. How he managed to be such a dedicated student and a social butterfly, Yuuri would never know. Phitchit knew just about everyone in the English department when they were undergrads which carried over when they both decided to continue on with their Masters.

Yuuri checked his phone, the message being from Phitchit.

When were you going to tell me??? Nikiforov the great is holding a book signing at ur place jfc man!!

Yuuri smiled. He should have known Phitchit would find out, he knew everyone in the academic circles after all.

He typed back a quick response before going back to half heartedly dusting.

To be fair, I only found out yesterday. I’m still in shock myself.

Three dots appeared, indicating that Phitchit was typing a response, right after he hit the send button. Typical, Yuuri thought to himself. Phitchit had always been glued to his phone.

Soon enough, a new message popped up,

How you manage to be so oblivious in real life and such an observant scholar I will honestly never know.

Yuuri groaned. He wasn’t a scholar, not anymore. He gave the life of academics up for the life of a simple store manager. He hated when Phitchit brought it up. He knew his friend wanted him back in the academic realm once again. There had been many pep talks given by him to Yuuri, trying to convince him that he could just apply next year and that it wasn’t unheard of to not get in on the first try.

Despite his friend’s kind words, he still felt like a failure and wasn’t keen on being reminded. He typed up a response.

I told you I’m not a scholar, I never was. Besides, it’s not like I ever wrote anything good anyways.

He knew Phitchit would have a field day with that one. A minute later he got his next response.

Says the man who got published in Shakespeare Quarterly when he was 21. Right, even Nikiforov didn’t get published in there until he got his masters.

As much as he hated to admit it, he was right. Four years ago he had worked his ass off on a piece regarding fertility in Macbeth and had managed to get it published, to the astonishment of both himself and his peers. It was a really remarkable feat. Shakespeare Quarterly was one of the best peer reviewed journals out there.

I mean yah, but I couldn’t get into a PhD program. Besides it doesn't even matter, it’s not like I’m going to talk to the guy. He’s Dr. Viktor Nikiforov.

As much as Yuuri would love nothing more than to question the man with some of his thoughts as to his most recent publication, he knew that he couldn’t possibly be on the same level as the famous academic. His phone buzzed.

Like hell you aren’t going to talk to him. For fuck’s sake man you’ve been pining after the man for years. Come on, just talk to him he’s a person too yah know.

Yuuri blushed, putting his phone down, refusing to look at the message again. He refused to admit that he had any other feelings for the man other than admiration, no matter how much his friends suggested to the contrary. His phone buzzed twice in rapid succession.

I know you don’t want to admit it, for whatever reason.

Just talk to him ok?

Turning back to cleaning, Yuuri ignored the occasional buzzing of his phone, focusing instead on the tasks ahead. The Red Bull helped a bit, but he couldn’t seem to shake off the tiredness gripping his limbs. He decided it was best to put on some music as no one was really in the shop. It was a weekday morning after all.

Taking a look around, Yuuri could see how much he had to do. The tall mismatched shelves reached the ceiling, and there were still plenty that needed dusting yet. Besides that there were numerous antique wing back chairs that were scattered throughout the shop that needed some form of cleaning and a couch that needed to drenched in Febreeze. The large chandelier that hung in the main reading area where the large couch was needed to be dusted as well. Although, due to the high ceilings, Yuuri would need a ladder. There was also the problem of space, and some rearranging would have to be done in order to fit everyone in. Yuuri just hoped he had enough time to figure out how to fit all those people in. Besides all the cleaning that needed to be done, he had to stack all the books in various parts of the store in some sort of display. The whole point of this was to sell the books after all.

He began placing them around the store, a little reminder that no matter where he was Viktor Nikiforov was going to be there in only a few short days and Yuuri was wholly unprepared.

Yuuri pushed his glasses up, trying to garner strength for the numeros tasks ahead. He took a deep breath before heading towards the closet to get the vacuum cleaner out. As he was reaching up to grab the door handle he heard the familiar jingle of the bell above the door. Yuuri turned and glanced over his shoulder, checking who it could be. The long brown hair and elegant posture told him that it was in fact one of his closest friends and most ardent supporters. Dr. Minako Okukawa was a well known, and well respected, English professor who taught at a nearby private institution. She was well respected and focused mainly on composition and rhetoric. When Yuuri was younger he had spent much time in Minako’s tutelage honing his writing skills.

She was a graceful and fearless woman who carried herself with all the poise of a professional.

“Yuuri!” she called out, pausing just in front of the checkout counter. She wore her usual well fitting pants suit, her hair pin straight falling down to her shoulders. Minako looked every inch of the Ivy League scholar she was.

“Yes?” he responded, appearing from the back of the shop.

“There you are! I’ve been trying to get a hold of you. Did you hear the rumor that Viktor’s coming to the shop?”

“Yah, um, about that,” Yuuri stammered coming to the front counter.

“What do you mean ‘about that’? He’s coming, isn’t he?” Minako asked, her piercing gaze falling on him.

“He is,” Yuuri admitted, his gaze cast downward, afraid to make eye contact.

“Oh my God. What on Earth, why? Why would one of the leading Shakespeareans come here? And more importantly, why haven’t you told me anything?” she asked.

“To be fair I just found out yesterday,” Yuuri replied.

“I suppose. But still, you could have texted me at least,” she pointed out.

“Yes. I mean ,I was up all last night reading his new work. It’s good, even though it’s more New Historicist stuff,” he said holding up his copy. The spine of it was worn even though he had only purchased it yesterday. Sticky notes stuck out brightly from in between the pages. In addition, some pages were dog eared and there appeared to be a tea stain on the front.

She made a small noise of disapproval, “I don’t know why all of his new work is centered around it. You know I’ve never been a fan of it myself. Great you’re adding context to it, but it’s hardly ever provable.”

“True, but it could be worse. He could be using Freud,” Yuuri stated, saying Freud with clear distaste.

“Fuck Freud. I swear if I read another piece about a dad secretly wanting to screw his daughter, I’m gonna vomit,” she said, rolling her eyes.

Yuuri laughed. He had missed this, discussing ideas with his peers in an easy conversation.

“Anyways, what are you gonna do about this Yuuri? You’ve idolized him since you were an undergrad and now is your chance,” Minako said, becoming more serious.

Yuuri looked down at the book resting on the counter. He just wanted to disappear. He felt like such a failure compared to Dr. Nikiforov. How could Yuuri hope to talk to him when they weren’t even on the same level? Maybe if he was working on his doctorate, then maybe he’d feel more confident, but he hadn’t even made it that far.

“I don’t know,” he muttered, refusing to make eye contact.

“Yuuri, you’ve wanted to meet him for years now. I know you’re worried you aren’t on the same level as him, but you are. Listen, a lousy piece of paper doesn’t mean anything. Your theoretical application is great and your papers are so creative, not to mention your smooth writing. You are on the same level of him, PhD or no,.” Minako said, trying to convince her pupil. She knew Yuuri struggled with the fact he’d gotten rejected. It seemed almost all of his friends were busy getting their doctorate at various prestigious schools and Yuuri was just working at a small bookstore in the middle of nowhere.

“Minako--” he began.

“No, I know you. I know you’re going to try and hide. Just promise you’ll try to talk to him. Please?” she pleaded. Minako had known Yuuri since he was 16. She knew what Viktor meant to him. She also knew about his social anxiety and rock bottom self confidence.

“Fine,” Yuuri said. He knew better than anyone it was impossible to win an argument against Minako. She had gotten her PhD, after all, and arguing with her always seemed to be futile. That, and generally Minako was right about things, so Yuuri tended to follow her advice the majority of the time.

“I should be running back to the University now, I have a class on theoretical application to teach and some research to do. I’ll talk to you later alright,” Minako said.

“Of course, I’ll see you Saturday then?” Yuuri asked.

“Absolutely, someone has to get you to talk to Viktor,” she said over her shoulder as she left.

Yuuri sighed, deciding to simply focus on the tasks ahead.

The rest of the morning was quiet, with few people flitting in and out. He focused on cleaning and organizing, unwilling to think of what he could possibly say to the man who had served as his inspiration for a number of years.

He took his lunch and tried to focus on his favorite show on Netflix, but found his thoughts kept returning to famous scholar and his heart shaped smile. Viktor had always intrigued Yuuri and it seemed like a dream that he would be there in a few days. He’d always been so untouchable, so far away and almost unreal. Yuuri sighed, closing his laptop and deciding it’d be best just to get back to work.

The rest of the day seemed to drag on, with few customers. There had been a snowstorm a few days ago, as was common in this part of Connecticut, and so the small town had yet to be fully cleared. Yuuri’s family had moved here from Japan when he was still young in order to run a local Japanese restaurant where his sister still worked. It wasn’t far from the shop, just down a couple streets. He didn’t live with them anymore as he could afford rent. He lived alone in a small studio apartment above the bookshop. Every couple weeks he’d head down to Boston to see all of his old friends from school, as most were attending graduate school in the city. While it was always great to see them, those visits were always bittersweet as he always was left wondering what if?

For the most part, Yuuri spent his free time reading and binging all the shows he had to put aside in order to study and write papers. He was currently on Doctor Who, catching up on Matt Smith’s last season as the Doctor. It was a lonely existence at times, and vastly different to the high intensity life he had lived previously. There were many times Yuuri seemed to miss the hustle and bustle of being a full time student and feeling the weight of the deadlines. It had a been a high pressure environment, but it one was in which he thrived.

Still, it was nice to actually relax and catch up on the things he had missed. Although there were many times Yuuri was tempted to log on and catch up on everything he had missed, the pain of rejection was still fresh and kept him away from the world he had once been apart of.
____

With so much to do the next few days passed in a blur and before he knew it, Yuuri found himself waking up early on Saturday morning to the light streaming in through his bedroom window. He groaned as his alarm continued to go off. Yuuri was not much looking forward to today’s events.

His studio apartment was sparsely decorated, with only a couch, TV and a bed. There was a poster of the Globe Theatre hanging on one wall and some family photos tacked up, but other than that the apartment was baren. An old couch sat in the middle of the room facing an old flat screen propped up by the Harry Potter series. The bookstore didn’t pay him much and whatever money had he typically spent, which was apparent as stacks of books lining the far wall. A chest of drawers was standing against the foot of his bed. There was a small kitchen with a fridge and microwave behind the sofa. Overall, it was a decent enough place for a good price, and Yuuri wasn’t one to complain.

Yuuri rolled over and turned off his alarm, pushing down the plaid comforter and getting up, albeit slowly. He rummaged through his drawers trying to find something suitable to wear. He pulled out a simple grey button down and a pair of slightly worn jeans. Coupled with his tennis shoes, it made for a semi-professional looking outfit while still looking relaxed enough. Deciding to do something with his hair, he ran a brush through it, styling it slightly with some water from the sink. He sighed and looked in the mirror over the sink.

He wore his usual glasses with the simply blue frames that he’d had since he was 16 and his hair looked better than it usually did. The shirt could have stood be be ironed but it’s not like Yuuri had one so it would just have to do. Deciding it might look better tucked in he went in search of a belt, which turned to be fruitless. Sighing, Yuuri took one last look in the mirror before grabbing a Red Bull from the fridge and heading downstairs, phone in hand.

He wasn’t quite sure when Dr. Nikiforov would arrive. Mr. Jones had given him few details to go off of. When they had talked, he had gone off on some tangent about what his life was like growing up instead of providing pertinent details. Yuuri assumed it would be like the previous book signings, with the author showing up around 9 and at 10 the shop would open to the public. Dr. Nikiforov would talk to the crowd for about an hour about his work and then everyone would line up to get their copy signed. He would sign books until around 12:30 and the shop would close around 1, it being a weekend. Yuuri hoped it went off without a hitch so he could return to the Doctor and Clara’s latest adventures as quickly as possible.

The shop was quiet when he entered, and he had about 45 minutes until Dr. Nikiforov should arrive. He set about making sure everything was set up. Setting up a table where he could sign the books and speak and moving things around to create some space for the patrons.

He became engrossed in his work and didn’t hear the jingle of the bell above the door. However, Yuuri couldn’t ignore the distinctly Russian voice.

“Hello?” the familiar voice called.

Yuuri’s head shot up, his heart beating faster. He made his way through the maze of book stacks. His heart was in his throat and he could begin to feel the nervousness creep in. He came through the romance section and there stood Dr. Viktor Nikiforov.

He was dressed impeccably. He wore a long tan coat buttoned up to ward off the winter chill, his hair was a bit windswept and a delicate blush graced his pale features. His mouth was curved up into his famous heart shaped smile, and his blue green eyes shone.

“Hi. I-I’m Yuuri Katuski,” Yuuri managed to stammer out, completely awestruck by the dashing man.

“Ah! So good to meet you Yuuri. I’m Dr. Nikiforov,” he replied, taking off his jacket and hanging it on the nearby old, wooden coat rack. Under the no doubt expensive and designer coat he wore a crisp white shirt with a well fitted charcoal vest over it and an expensive looking black satin tie. His sleeves were rolled up exposing toned, pale, forearms. He was wearing fitting black pants that hugged his long legs perfectly.

Yuuri thought he had died and gone to heaven.

“Yes, ah, well. Um, we should probably make sure everything’s good to go since we open to the general public in an hour,” Yuuri managed to stammer out looking at anything but the handsome professor standing in front of him.

“Yes, of course!” Viktor exclaimed, clapping his hands together. He looked around as Yuuri got to work.

“Can I help at all? I didn’t know what to bring so I hope you don’t mind I just bought myself,” Viktor continued unsure of how to proceed.

Yuuri looked up, gaping at the man. Viktor Nikiforov, the top Shakespearean known for his extensive knowledge of both the time period and the text, had shown up to a book signing without a single thing, not even a pen to sign the damn books.

“I mean, I could just use a hand making sure the books are properly positioned and setting up some displays,” Yuuri said, gesturing to the poster board that had pictures of the book and Viktor himself on it.

“Yes, yes, of course!” Viktor said, coming over to help.

He looked confusedly at the boards and the books.

“Just set up the tripods that we’ll be putting the posters on. They’re right by the side of the table, the black things,” Yuuri instructed, motioning to where they lay.

They worked in silence for a few moments as Yuuri finished stacking some books on the desk and placing a pen to use to sign, since Viktor had forgotten one. When he turned around he saw that Viktor had failed to set up even one tripod and was attempting to wrangle the devices into a standing position.

Yuuri was beginning to wonder how this man had gotten a PhD.

“Here,” Yuuri offered sensing Viktor’s confusion, “why don’t you go get some coffee and I’ll finish setting up.When you get back we’ll go over the schedule again and any questions you might have. Sound good?”

Viktor nodded, relinquishing the battle between himself and the tripod.

“What would you like then?” Viktor asked.

“It doesn’t really matter, there’s some money on the counter Mr. Jones left for some donuts if you could pick about two dozen up that’d be great,” Yuuri said, getting to work on assembling the tripods Viktor had seemed absolutely confounded by.

Viktor nodded before heading out the door.

“It’s to the right and just a couple places down,” Yuuri called out after him remembering that Viktor wasn’t from around the area.

The professor returned in 15 minutes with donuts and coffee, partially covered in snow. Yuuri had forgotten there had been a chance they would get a snow storm this weekend and he immediately looked out the store’s front window to see the area coated in freshly fallen snow. Fat snowflakes fell from the sky at a fast pace that made it almost impossible to see across the street.

This was not good.

“It’s getting quite bad out there,” Viktor said, putting the donuts down and handing Yuuri his coffee.

“I didn’t even notice to be honest, a bad habit of mine,” Yuuri said, staring out the window, wondering what would become of today’s signing. He doubted many people would show up as the roads would most likely be a mess. He sighed, choosing to sip his coffee and let it warm him up.

“Ah, yes, I can be quite dense as well. My colleagues always say they wonder how I can function outside of the academic world,” Viktor laughed, coming to stand next to Yuuri to watch the snow fall.

“My friends used to say the same thing about me,” he replied, smiling at the memories.

“Really? When you’re working?” Viktor asked.

Yuuri regretted his prior choice of words as he flushed in embarrassment. Here he was thinking he could be on the same intellectual level as Dr. Nikiforov.

“I...I used to go to school for Renaissance Literature. Just finished up my masters a year ago,” he managed to stammer out.

Viktor’s eyebrows shot up and he turned to look at him.
“Really? What’d you specialize in? Did you ever publish?” he asked, his interest suddenly piqued.

“I did a lot with Shakespeare’s later works, especially the the Tempest and Macbeth. I...uh...published a piece in Shakespeare Quarterly when I was 21,” he stammered out, hoping it was enough.

“Wow,” Viktor said, impressed. “What was the publication on?”

“Fertility in Macbeth in terms of primogeniture and natural order,” Yuuri said, his gaze cast down.

“Really, what approach did you use then? Gender theory?” Dr. Nikiforov pressed on.

“Uh no,” Yuuri said. “I used mostly primary sources although I used mainly Marxism.”

“I’ve read that one, it was really good,” Viktor said, studying Yuuri for a moment in disbelief.

“I should probably call Mr. Jones and ask him what to do. It looks pretty bad out there. I’m not sure many people will be able to brave the snow to make it,” Yuuri explained as he left to head back to the counter to make the call.

Viktor watched him leave in amazement. Was this Yuuri really the one that had written such an excellent piece? It made sense, while the piece was good it lacked a clear and confident voice. The writer had addressed previous critics who had disagreed with his points, but the engagement with them seemed less about contradicting them and putting forth his own ideas and more about just discussing his points. He remembered thinking the piece needed a much clearer and confident voice.

Not only was this young man a bright scholar, but Viktor couldn’t deny the attraction he felt to him. Yuuri was simply gorgeous with his big brown eyes and pale pink lips. He certainly felt drawn to the man, wanting to know more.

Yuuri came back within a few minutes, cutting Viktor’s train of thoughts short.

“Mr. Jones agrees we might not get many people. He said it’d be fine to just continue the event and if no one shows up we can leave earlier. It’s no big deal,” Yuuri explained.

Viktor smiled, “Well if it’s going to be just us we should probably get to know each other better, no?”

Yuuri blushed at that. Viktor greatly enjoyed the sight.

“Um, sure. I mean I’m not terribly interesting I just spend most of my time working here,” Yuuri responded.

“Is that it? I don’t really believe that, not from someone who published in Shakespeare Quarterly at such a young age. Have you published anything recently?” he asked.

Yuuri hated the direction in which this conversation was heading. Soon he’d be forced to admit to his failure to get into grad school. Worst still, he’d have to admit it to Dr. Nikiforov. Yuuri didn’t think he could handle the man’s disappointment.

“No, I’ve just been working here a lot. Trying to figure what I want to do with my life,” Yuuri said.

Viktor nodded, personally, he had always known he was going to be a scholar when he had published his work quite young and had flown through the programs. Once he’d entered his doctoral program he had known there was no heading back.

“Have you thought about going to get your doctorate?” Viktor asked innocently enough.

Whomp, there it is, Yuuri thought to himself. The one topic he had hoped to avoid and Viktor had brought it up within an hour of his arrival. It figured.

“I’ve been thinking about it, saving up some money and considering my options, yah know?” Yuuri said, trying to hide his failure.

With that Yuuri got up and began to shift things around, noticing that they would be open in about ten minutes.

Viktor wasn’t oblivious to this, noticing Yuuri’s discomfort talking about his studies, even though he clearly showed promise. He was perplexed. Many of the people he knew would brag about being published in such a prestigious journal so young. Viktor couldn’t help but wonder what had happened. Surely if Yuuri was that dedicated to his studies he would have absolutely been considering continuing his studies.

Yuuri doubted anyone would show up, but he couldn’t stand to talk about academics with Dr. Nikiforov for a second longer. It’s like the man had a natural skill in finding and pointing out Yuuri’s biggest insecurities.
____

Despite the snowstorm, a few people managed to show up so Yuuri wasn’t stuck completely alone in the book store with just Dr. Nikiforov, but it was still a bit too intimate for his comfort. Throughout the entire event he had caught the older man glancing at him out of the corner of his eyes. It seemed Dr. Nikiforov’s gaze was fixed to him throughout the event, following him wherever he went. Yuuri couldn't understand why and took every chance to hide in the back of the shop rearranging and cleaning the bookshelves while Viktor effortlessly charmed the crowd. From his hiding place Yuuri could calm his racing heart and collect his scattered thoughts.

Eventually though, he had to come out of hiding as the guests began to leave in order to try and get home before the storm worsesned. Peaking out from behind the book stack ever so slighting, Yuuri could see Viktor thanking a younger girl for coming. A warmth spread from his chest as he watched her clutch her book tightly and nod her head excitedly.

Viktor laughed.

Yuuri sank back against the shelf, what was he thinking? Viktor Nikiforov was out of his league. Sure, Yuuri had had a little crush on him all these years, but he couldn’t possibly be entertaining it, this was Viktor after all. He was way out of Yuuri’s league. Stuffing his feelings down, he began to clean up in order to close up the shop as the last patrons filed out.

Glancing outside and realizing that the snow was coming down harder now Yuuri realized that Viktor should probably head home before it became worse. There was already around five inches of snow on the ground and they were predicting eight tops.

“Where are you staying?” Yuuri asked.

“The Marriott, I believe. The one in town was full for a wedding”

Yuuri sighed. Of course that just had to be the hotel in the next town over, a 20 minute drive in regular weather that would now be impossible with such a heavy and thick snowfall. Naturally, Viktor would have to stay with him.

“The roads will be impossible to drive tonight with all of this snow, especially since they’re mostly backraods. You can stay at my place if you want. Fair warning it’s a bit of a mess though.” Yuuri said continuing to clean up.

“Oh, thank you. I didn’t even realize how bad it was getting. We’re used to a lot of snow in Russia but I forgot that it’s hard getting around in America when there’s so much.”

Yuuri pushed his glasses up his nose, “It’s no problem really. There’s a small cafe right across the street we can stop at for lunch if you don’t mind braving the weather for a minute or so.”

“It’s no problem, I grew up in Russia I’m used to the snow.” He explained easily.

After a few more moments of Yuuri cleaning up they braved the weather, trudging across the street to the small cafe. Yuuri had been there plenty of times for lunch, they had excellent panini’s with fresh ingredients and great smoothies as well.

The cafe was small, the walls were exposed brick with portraits of various people and places hanging on the walls. The chairs and tables were all mismatched in an artistic manner and mason jars with fresh daisies sat on the tables. They went up and ordered, Yuuri recommending his favorite strawberry and banana smoothie. Being the only ones in the cafe they had pick of the tables, choosing a table by the front to see the storm.

“So how’d you end up in this small town with a masters in Renaissance Literature, it must be quite the story.” Viktor asked the younger man.

“It’s not all that interesting.” He said flushing a bit. “Needed a bit of a break from the stresses of the academic world. This is my hometown and when I heard that Mr. Jones was looking for someone to help run the store I applied and here I am.”

“Ah, I understand. It can be so stressful at times. There’s so much pressure to be putting out new high quality work. It’s draining. It must be nice though, to run such a cute little book store.”

“It is.” Yuuri agreed, smiling a bit. “I basically get to sort through new and old books every day, and in the time there’s nothing to do I get to read them. It’s nice, I feel like I haven’t read anything for leisure since my freshman year of my undergrad.”

“Read anything good recently? I have a bit more time to read now that I’m not actually writing a book.”

“Well, I’ve been reading a lot of Neil Gaiman recently. I’ve been really enjoying his stuff so far. I’ve also been trying to work my way through Game of Thrones, which has been no easy task.” Yuuri responded. Oddly enough, he found Dr. Nikiforov easy to talk to. The conversation flowed easily, talking about their surprising amount of similar interests. It turned out Viktor was a bit of a closet nerd which only served to endear Yuuri more to the man. They talked about their travels, Yuuri being from Japan and Vitkor being from Russia.

They talked for what seemed to be hours, time flying by as they discussed their mutual interests and the academic world. The pair were lost in the conversation, laughing with ease and basking in the other’s presence.

All too soon it seemed the cafe was closing and the pair were forced to trek through the deep snow to get back to Yuuri’s apartment.

“Sorry it’s a bit messy, if i would have known I was having a guest over I would have tidied up a bit more.” Yuuri said sheepishly as he unlocked the door.

It was hardly even close to a mess. Viktor was starting to notice Yuuri had a tendency to devalue himself and he couldn’t help but wonder why. Surely the man must know how utterly gorgeous he was, as well as being well read and learned. On top of that, the man had a bit of a nerdy streak that struck Viktor straight through the heart.

“I was thinking for dinner I could make Katsudon, it’s an old family recipe I was going to make anyways. Have you ever had it?” Yuuri asked

“No, I can’t say I have though I’d love to try it. I tend to just eat whatever I can get my hands on, although I love trying new things.” Viktor replied.

They chatted amicably while Yuuri got to making dinner, Viktor trying not to focus too much on the man lest he make him uncomfortable. It was hard though, there was just something about Yuuri that brought forth his natural curiosity. He always wanted to know more, and the way Yuuri tended to wall himself up and give half answers confused and intrigued him. He was the kind of person that people tended to naturally open themselves up to, but Yuuri seemed secretive and he couldn’t help but feel intrigued.

Dinner was delicious and Viktor praised Yuuri’s cooking, making the younger man blush which tugged at his heartstrings. They chatted about various mutual friends and their own lives. Viktor talked a lot about his beloved dog Makkachin, even bringing his phone out to show the hundreds of pictures he had of his adorable companion. Somewhere in the conversation the topic turned to drinking and before they knew it they had both consumed several bottles of beer. It then turned to vodka and cokes and before they knew it, Yuuri was significantly drunk and Viktor was a little tipsy.

“Viktor, can I call you that? It’s so pretty.” Yuuri slurred, his head falling onto the older man’s shoulder.

“Of course, I like when you say my name. It sounds nice.” He said, enjoying their closeness.

“Ok. Cause you’re so smart and good at stuff and I’m just not.” Yuuri said.

“What?” Viktor said shocked “You’re so smart Yuuri. You should really go for your Ph.D. You’d be a great scholar.”

“You wanna hear a secret?” He replied, swaying back and forth a bit.

“Only if you want to tell me.”

“I did. Apply. You know for um, grad school. But a few days before my writing sample was due my dog died. Vicchan. I wasn’t there. I missed it ‘cause I was at school and my phone-it was on silent ‘cause I was studying. It wasn’t good enough and I didn’t get in. I-I wanted to though. I love it all. All of it, and I miss it.” Yuuri explained.

Viktor was a little shocked, he had known Yuuri was good enough to get into a top school but this confirmed it.

An idea sprang into his head. Maybe he could help Yuuri, help him refine his papers and be the scholar he dreamed of being. Viktor was sure he wasn’t too far away from his goal, perhaps all he needed was some gentle encouragement and a guiding hand. Although he could hardly ignore the fact he also just wanted an excuse to be close to him. He had grown quite attached to Yuuri throughout the course of the day.

“Viktor, be my mentor.” He slurred looking up in his eyes.

And Viktor fell, hook line, and sinker.