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When the Nightmares Began

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“Don’t worry, Yuura. I’ll come back for you soon.”

“Do you promise, Vitya?”

He hugged the 10-year-old tight. “I promise.”


-Present Day, Viktor-


He tried to hold on to the rapidly fading image of Yuura. A loud blaring destroyed the last remnants of the warm feeling he had. With a groan, he rolled over and turned off his alarm.

Words of the promise he made five years ago still echoed in his mind. Viktor tried not to think about the one he left behind in the orphanage by keeping busy with school and learning his father’s business. 

Mikhail Nikiforov was one of the most powerful and influential businessmen in all of Russia. The only one to rival the Nikiforov name was the Plisetsky family. That group was based in Moscow, though there were rumors surfacing of them expanding their reach into Saint Petersburg. A minor nuisance, but nothing they needed to concern themselves with. Yet.

Viktor went through the motions of getting dressed for school. His mind still wandered back to his dream. Holding Yuura in his arms that day was the last time he felt warmth spread through him. Ever since then, the expectations had piled up and he was not allowed to feel anything. 

He had to be stoic and unapproachable if he was to take over the family business one day. It killed him on the inside, but everyone else complimented him on how perfectly suited he was for his future role. It was all a façade. The only person who could see through his mask was the bodyguard sworn to protect him.

Otabek Altin escorted him to and from school each day. Otabek was gifted to his family in exchange for the Nikiforov’s protection against the rebellion against the Altin name. 

The stoic teen was the same age as him, but had far more experience in combat than he did. Together, they were a powerful team. Viktor had made his statement to his father’s enemies a long time ago. Every once in a while, he still had to dirty his hands, but he preferred to make Otabek do the rest.

His days were filled with routine and structure. Every minute perfectly planned and executed without room for argument. His mornings were usually relaxed. No one was there for breakfast. No one saw him off to school. Otabek was his shadow and not a friend. He wasn’t allowed to socialize much inside school, though he had plenty of people who admired him.

He treated them equally, not allowing them to get too close. They knew his family. What they were capable of. They were all faking their kindness toward him anyway. 

“We’re here,” Otabek announced. He looked out the window and sighed. Another day of drudgery. 

By the time Otabek opened his door, Viktor had a fake smile plastered on his face. As they walked to his classroom, there were several greetings thrown his way. He gave them a “good morning” in return. The day was already shaping up to be more of the same.

In the hallway toward his classroom though, he smelled something that caused him to freeze. Cherry blossoms. A scent that was so familiar even after all these years. He sniffed the air, trying to capture more of the intoxicating aroma. His feet guided him in the direction of where it was coming from. Outside his classroom though, it became muddled and mixed with a distinctive Alpha smell. 

It smelled wrong. He wrinkled his nose. 

“Sir?” Otabek asked, snapping him out of his daze.

He looked around. No sign of who he had hoped would be there. His heart sank. The dream had really fucked his head. Viktor walked inside the classroom, fully composed, pretending he hadn’t just acted abnormally.

Slowly, his classmates began to fill the room. The teacher entered the room a couple of minutes before the bell rang.

“We’re going to start a little early today. I want to introduce you to a new student.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow. There weren’t many new students in their school. Most of them came from upper class families of prominent figures in the community. Almost everyone had their own bodyguard for protection. 

He hadn’t heard of any new blood coming into the area. 


A blonde-haired teen walked into the room. Fierce green eyes hidden underneath the untamed mop. A leather coat thrown over the required uniform. He had a scowl on his face, but Viktor knew it was a façade. Just like his smile. 

“Introduce yourself,” the teacher urged. The teen scanned the room before staring at him. He met the teen’s gaze.

“I see you haven’t died, bastard.”

There were a few audible gasps in the room. Whispers soon followed.

“Who does this person think he is insulting Nikiforov like that?”  

“Doesn’t he know who he’s talking to?” 

The newcomer rolled his eyes at the chatter—something Viktor would be tempted to do himself if he were younger. 

He took a deep breath. “Yurio.”

“Don’t fucking call me that.”

He opened his mouth to ask a question when another person entered the room. Hair slicked back. Glasses perfectly in place. A beautifully tailored suit and black gloves over his hands.

“That was not how you were taught to greet people,” the newcomer scolded the blond teen.

Viktor was enraptured by the person standing beside Yurio. There was no mistaking his features. He took in a deep breath. All he could smell was Alpha coming from them. A strong smell that covered up any trace of cherry blossoms. 


“Fine. I’m Yuri Plisetsky. Nice to meet you.”

He curled his hand into a fist. So Yurio was now a part of a family his father consistently fought against.

“Where the fuck do I sit?”

“Take a seat next to Mister Nikiforov since you two are familiar with each other.”

At mention of his name, Yuura looked in his direction. They only made eye contact for a second, but he could feel the same draw he had felt all those years ago. When the Japanese teen broke the gaze, his chest tightened. 


The two made their way over to the empty seat beside them. Yuura pulled out the seat for the teen before retreating to the back of the room with the rest of the bodyguards.

Yurio gave him a disgusted glare before concentrating on the lesson.

Viktor couldn’t think straight. He had so many questions. Yurio had ended up adopted by the Plisetsky family. When? And Yuura was with him now. How?

He stole a glance behind his shoulder, looking at the person he had promised to come back for. Yuura looked different. He was cold, distant, and withdrawn. He also didn’t smell right.

What happened to you in the five years we’ve been separated? 

“Stop looking at him,” Yurio hissed. He took a look at the teen next to him. It was a surprise to see the younger teen in the same class as him. They were two years apart. However, he knew it was possible to skip grades. 

“I’m free to do as I like,” Viktor retorted.

“You lost the right to look at him when you broke your promise, bastard.”

His promise.

The words made when he was a hopeful child. One who didn’t understand what he was getting into when Mikhal Nikiforov waltzed into the orphanage five years ago to adopt a son. An heir. Someone to take over a family business built on drugs, guns, and death.


“Don’t worry, Yuura. I’ll come back for you soon.”

“Do you promise, Vitya?”

He hugged the 10-year-old tight. “I promise.”