Past Photograph [Viktuuri/Victuri] AU

Chapter One: Home Sweet Home?

"This is it, Makkachin," Viktor breathed out, "Our new home. Really beats the old apartment in downtown St. Petersburg, hmm?"

Viktor Nikiforov glanced down at his poodle, who was calmly sitting at his side, tail wagging like a hummingbird's wings. The platinum-blonde gave the dog a pat on the head, chuckling. "Yeah, I'm excited too, buddy." he said sweetly as he swerved his head back to the house he had just bought. The man who had sold the house to him, Yakov Feltsman, seemed rather eager and happy to get rid of the ancient place, and the young Russian male didn't really think much of it at the time. All Viktor knew, was that he had just gotten a beautiful, two-story, Victorian style house for a, surprisingly, low price. It really was his lucky day, wasn't it?

Viktor took a deep breath, his blue-green eyes, bright with excitement, gleamed as he clasped the old rusted key in his hand, gently pushing the metal into the old lock. He let out a satisfied sigh at the click that traveled to his ears. Pulling the key out, he slowly pushed open the mahogany door, dust re-awakening after the poor upkeep of the prior housekeeping. How they had rented this place out, and actually kept it in business, was a mystery to him. Makkachin swiftly bounded past his still 'swatting-his-hand-at-dust' owner, eager to explore his new playground. "Don't get into anything you shouldn't..!" Viktor shouted playfully, well aware he might have a few broken items in the weeks to come, a chuckle escaping his lips.

Closing the door behind him, he placed his bag of clothing and food down on the dusty floor, taking a deep breath. He smiled. "I've always loved the smell of these places--" he paused to sneeze. "But, it's too dusty.. This place needs a serious cleaning." He mumbled lazily, not looking forward to the work he knew he was going to have to do later on. He picked up the bags once more, walking down the hallway into the kitchen.

The kitchen was rather small, with an island counter standing alone in the center. Rickety chairs and a half-table adorned the left side. Old cabinets rested on the walls to his right. The fridge looked ancient (even though it was just one of those white ones; still ancient!), and the single-sink looked like it needed cleaning as well. Viktor let a pout stretch across his face. "If the rest of the house is like this, I don't think I want to clean," he muttered halfheartedly as he placed the bag of food on the island counter, kicking up even more dust bunnies. He sneezed again. "I still can't believe they rented this place out."

Viktor shook his head, instead opening the fridge and putting his hand in. Cold. "At least the fridge works..." He started filling the fridge with foods, mostly fruits and juices, things that he didn't have to cook. He would go shopping after he settled in a bit. The Russian turned as he heard scratching, smiling as Makkachin bounced into the room, tongue rolling out. "What is it, girl**? Find something?" he asked.

Sometimes, more than not, he would get strange looks from his neighbors, as he would talk to his beloved dog in public and on their balcony or on walks***. Yeah, those people thought he was crazy; and probably glad he had moved out.

The poodle whined softly, causing Viktor to chuckle. "Alright, alright, I'm coming." He closed the fridge, making a mental note to not forget that he still had to put the rest of the food away. He followed the poodle out to another hallway, which happily led him to a rather large back yard. "Wow..." Viktor gasped. "This is huge..! You have a big place to run around now, Makka!****" The blonde beamed down at the excited poodle, who was jumping up and down. "Alright, I'll let you out; just stay where I can see you, okay?" He opened the door, laughing as Makkachin bolted out of the house.

With a soft laugh at the playful poodle, he went back to the kitchen and finished putting up the cold groceries. He let out a sigh as he put up the last item, a carton of milk, and closed the fridge. The cereal he got had been placed in the old cabinets, the packets of oatmeal stashed behind the old jars on the counter. He stretched. "Now that that's finally done-" he muttered, his azure eyes looking out the window.

A knock on the door.

"Who the heck-?"

Viktor had jumped slightly at the sudden noise, and slowly brushed his hand through his platinum bangs. The Russian made his way to the door after another knock sounded through the house, calling out 'Coming, I'm coming!'.

Viktor opened the door, his blue-green haze meeting those of bright green muddled with flecks of amber. His hair was blonde at the top and a darker brown near his nape, and slightly tanned skin. "Uh- Hello?"

The stranger smiled, holding out his hand. "I guess you're the one who bought this old hunk; names Chris, nice to meet you!" He shook Chris's hand. " Viktor... Nice to meet you as well. But yes, I just moved in today. I'm guessing you live around here...?"

"I'm you're neighbor, yes. I really need to know; why did you buy this place? You have heard the rumors, right? About this place being haunted?" Viktor blinked. "Haunted...?"

Now this was news to him. He had, of course, researched the house, and discovered it had been owned by the Bolsheviks in their prime-time, but never had he heard that anyone had died here... Had he maybe looked over something? He scarcely recalls an article on the house about sudden flashing lights seen on the second floor, and phones being drastically drained, but he excused those for the old lights and bad charging. Never would he had thought this.

Chris nodded, his eyes widening. "Yes; the whole area knows it! Apparently there's a ghost that trapped here. I had a friend, Sara, that stayed here and she said she had seen a ghost... or something like that..." Chris looked up, suddenly questioning himself. Viktor frowned. "I see... I guess I really picked the prime house..." he said, his voice hushed. Was he really living in a haunted house? That would explain why the place had been up for sale for so long, and why Yakov Feltsman had been so eager to get rid of it; he didn't have to deal with the worry of having a haunted house under his wing now. The Russian sighed.

"Thank you, Chris, for telling me this. I'll probably go to the Library tomorrow and do some more research on this place." He gave his new friend/neighbor a thankful smile.

Chris smiled in return. "No problem. It was nice meeting you, Viktor. Maybe we could hang out sometime and become better friends?" "Sure, I'd like that." They shook each others' hands again. "See you around, Vik!" Chris called as he retreated back down the driveway, getting into a dark red pick-up truck*****. Viktor waved. "See you!"

After closing the door, he let out a deep sigh, his eyes scanning the old halls and rooms around him. "Are you hiding a ghost here...?" he asked out loud.

He got silence in return. "I guess a ghost wouldn't just come out of hiding, would it? Heck, I don't know anything about ghosts..." He ran his thin fingers through his hair again.

He walked back to the kitchen, his azure eyes now clouded, and eyebrows furrowed. He had a lot of research to do.

NOTES:

** - I believe Makkachin to be a female more than a male. ^^

*** - Makkachin and Viktor 'talk' to each other, as to represent their close relationship. ;)

**** - They lived in a Apartment, therefore Makka didn't have a big place to run around. :)

***** - I see Chris as being a more laid-back kind of guy. So, he has a dark red pick-up truck :p

I hope you guys liked this chapter! It was shorter than the original, but I just wanted to have Chris introduced as a major side-character, and a bit of foretelling ;)

I'll now put out a chapter every Friday/Saturday. Most will be 1-2K words. Maybe I will treat you guys with a longer chapter (around 3K).

Bye for now!

~P0RK-Cutlet-B0wl~