Yuri Lupino

He was all over her, his hands warm and slippery and they whipped around her body. She kept gasping at the sensation of wherever his lips or teeth or touch would end up next, then his hand went into her underwear and she let her head roll back, wanting to feel lost. Perhaps if she felt lost enough in his touch, if he could make her feel, she could at least pretend to understand how he felt. 

Then his touch was gone, all at once, and she thought he was playing some kind’ve cruel trick. She opened her eyes, ready to moan and admonish him, but when she saw his hands pulling at his head, she softened. But softness only made her realize that she very much did not know how to make this better. And that whatever he was going through all she could do is watch. 

Her hand reached out and then she pulled it back. This wasn’t how this worked. “Yuri. Stop that. Explain.” Water rolled down her half-naked body as she stood there, keeping her voice convincingly strong as she questioned the man in front of her. 

Though he complied with her words, he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. He turned away from her, a hand reaching to turn the shower off. With his back to her, he stared blankly at the slate grey tile. 

Does he tell her everything? Should he? She had asked, ordered, he was to comply. But the ever looming thought of putting her in danger, frightened him. Fear was new to him. It was beaten out of him, and now it flooded every one of his senses. 

Taking in a deep breath, Yuri turned. Hands reaching for her’s. If he was going to tell here everything, it was best to do it when she is sitting. She may have handled that fact that he had just killed someone not even 30 minutes ago, but this. His life. It was a lot to take in. “It will put you at risk,” he explained. “They will hunt you down, destroy everyone and every thing. As both a mercy and punishment for my defectiveness, they will order me to carry it out.”  There was a pause between them, he wanted the words to soak in. Allow her to weight her options. “Do you still want to know?”

He was thinking about how to kill her. She could see it in his eyes. She didn’t feel afraid, uncertain maybe, for a moment or two, but not afraid. And then he pressed his lips against hers and she lost herself to the feeling of the air being pushed out of her lungs and her lips and teeth and chest crashing against his. 

Her hand remained on his arm, moving along his soft, wet skin. She didn’t mind the forcefulness, she wanted more of it, she wanted to snap him out of whatever was going on in his head, and if that failed, she wanted to be brought into it, twisted to match even for a moment, whatever he was feeling. 

The water from the shower nozzle was ruining her silk bra and underwear. That combined with the blood slowly washing from his face, bridging across their touching skin, and the fact that he would now doubt soon, hopefully, rip it from her body. 

He broke their lips apart, nuzzling the side of her cheek. He bit down the side her neck, as his hands smoothed down her sides, grasping her waist roughly. His skin burned unnaturally, the lingering need to destroy swirled within him. 

Her lips tasted of wine, her skin like silk. Yuri push her back, pressing her against the cool tile. His hands dipped down, slipping under the waistband of her panties. Russian spewed from his lips as he kneaded the soft flesh of her arse. 

The news that he’d killed someone should’ve shocked her, but she felt nothing, as she imagined he did as well. In fact, she felt a smug sense of satisfaction, good, Sebastian Adler was a prat anyways. She was right, she didn’t feel afraid, not even as his hand rose up to her throat. 

The idea that he was not Yuri, that hurt her. Of course he’s Yuri, my Yuri, She thought, though really what claim did she actually have to him. No matter what pull they felt, they knew very little about each other. She supposed as far as dark inescapable secrets went, he had her beat by a mile. And she still didn’t care. Maybe, that made him hers, if she was lucky. But right now this was not Yuri. 

He was apologizing for not killing her, so whoever it was who controlled him, must’ve been a fate worse than death. She felt a small spark of sick flavoured hope, at the idea that he couldn’t bear to lose her, that he’d shown up outside of her apartment, that he’d chosen her. 

Sick thoughts lead to sick actions. She laid a tight grip around his hand and pressed it firmer against her throat. She brought his eyes back to her. Water spilled down her hair, warm droplets falling all around them, “What’s stopping you?”

How cruel of her to play into his dark side. Honestly, he shouldn’t have been surprise, and even more honesty; he wasn’t. He had seen her, watched her, probably knew her than she knew herself. She was a wild child, yes. Broken beyond repair, though she pretends not be. It was the reason she played her games. Played into the thrill. 

He did nothing but stare darkly, her question echoing in his mind. It would be simple. Quick even, and on one would be the wise. Yet, instead of doing what he taught. He went against it, pulling forcefully on her neck till her lips met his. 

Her hand smoother down his hair, also covered in blood. The look in his eyes was unnatural. She studied it as he asked her if she really wanted to know. When he warned her she’d be afraid, she thought a moment before replying. She’d known her response immediately, but had to think carefully about how to voice it. This was the first time he’d hesitated to what she’d said. She needed to be firm and detached, like him.

She removed his pants and looked him in the eyes as she peeled them down his body. “I’m not afraid. Nothing you’ve done up till now has made me afraid. So tell me. Now.” With that she took his hand and guided him under the water, watching the blood slowly start to drain down the porcelain. 

It was spraying all over, the floor, her dress, bits of water stained pink marking everything. With a sigh she peeled off her own dress and got in, closing the shower door behind her. “It’s just the two of us in here, You can tell me everything.” 

“You’re smart, i am sure by now you realize I am no ordinary waiter. In fact I’m not a waiter at all.” Was He really going to tell her everything? He doubted it would even matter, she would figure it out. If she hasn’t already.  “The man at the restaurant, the one who owns it, I was tasked with killing him; and I did.” 

Silence washed over him as he allowed the water to run over him. The man he killed, should not have affected him as much it did. The man was a terrible person, just as Yuri was. 

               Yuri.

“247, that’s my name. Yuri is just something they gave me.” Something to make him sound more human when he went out in the world. At least, that’s what he assumed. In fact, he didn’t know if anything about him was true. His birthday, his name, anything. Who really was he, if not Yuri Volkov? 

His hand crept up, gripping lightly to her neck. He applied no pressure, and his thumb ghosted over her jawline. “They would have me kill you,” he said darkly. “You are a distraction, they would say. And in some way they are right.” 247 pressed against her, nudging the side of her head with his. “By the rules, I should kill, but I can’t. I am sorry.” 

“I wasn’t going anywhere that mattered.” Waverly assured him, slamming the door behind him and bolting all the locks. It was just her and one other apartment on this floor, which she believed to be empty, but her mind was filled with paranoia and the recognition that whatever was happening to him, she wanted him to be safe. 

He told her to tell him to leave. She rolled her eyes, of course knowing that he’d respond to commands over questions any day. Some part of him was so militaristic, though it was clearly more severe than some Russian army training, or anything else she’d excused it with. “No, you’re going to stay here and let me clean you up.” 

Her purse was quickly abandoned on her kitchen counter. Then her shoes to the floor, bringing her eye level with him. Then she went to work on him, pulling his hands to his sides and began undoing the buttons on his shirt. “You’re going to get out of these clothes and we’re going to go wash you off and then these clothes will just get… burned, i don’t know, they don’t matter anyway.” 

Her hands were trembling as she undid every button on his shirt. Once it fell to the floor she took his hand, leading him upstairs to the master bath. It was a mess, which she hoped actually might irk him, snap him back to normal. Her vanity was covered in make up and hair and beauty products, and drugs. She let him alone, for his eyes to glaze over as she turned on her shower, letting the water run hot. 

When she turned back to him, she starred for a moment, intent on getting his pants off and getting him in the water to wash away the traces of blood and the night he’d had. “What happened?” She asked quietly, her hands going to his waistband, trying to pull him back to her, they rode up his chest to his face, her lips gently placed against his neck and his chin, his cheeks, his lips, “Tell me, please.” She said, tasting the blood marked on his skin and she continued to place kissing along his neck. 

He was wanted to retort to begging, but he knew better. She was not the school, but he knew arguing with Waverly was not at all the smartest thing to do. Yuri did nothing but stare pass her as she undid his shirt, letting it fall. 

He didn’t know when or how he got to the bathroom, and if it weren’t for the running water in the background he probably wouldn’t have noticed. He sure as hell didn’t pay the mess that was Waverly’s living quarters. 

“Are you sure you want to know?” It wasn’t an order, not yet. She said said ‘please’. She was asking, and if that were the case, he’d give her an out. Though, he surely hoped she wouldn’t be cruel nor smart enough to command him. The illusion of him would shatter and she would know what kind of monster he was. 

He felt nothing as her hands ran over him, laying small kisses along his neck. Perhaps this is way he fell back to Rosalie. She knew how to snap him back. Levi as well. He was a good friend, a good brother. “If I tell you, you will be afraid.”

As he grasped her hand Waverly let out a small sound of pain, no not pain, just surprise. This is just like any other time, she told herself, just like a friend on a bad trip. He wasn’t in his right mind that much she could tell. She herself had had a few drinks and done a line, but the sight of him at helped sober her up. 

Not the first. It was an admission that should’ve shocked or scared her. But it didn’t do either of those and it definitely didn’t surprise her. He was too smart, too cunning, too focused to simply be here in Very Beach to be a waiter. 

She looked left and right as he refused to talk her hand, “You, safe and sound inside my apartment? Yes it’s what I want. Come.” When he stood but still refused to take her hand she took the lead, reaching out to grab his arm, “You’re forgiven, now come with me before someone sees.” 

Oddly enough, saying those words again reminded Waverly of Monica DelSalvo, who’d gotten drunk at a party and puked down her own dress. Waverly, in a temporary bout of saintliness, had scurried her off to the bathroom to clean up. Monica had learned her parents were getting divorced, likely due to the fact that Waverly had slept with her father, which Monica didn’t know. But in Waverly’s defence, Monica had made out with her boyfriend. 

This not too fond memory passed through Waverly’s mind as she hastily unlocked the door to her apartment. This was entirely different circumstances. Whereas her seventeen year old self would’ve gladly left Monica propped in her parents en suite choking on her own puke, Yuri was… different. Though it caused her pain and confusion to admit it every time. 

“We need to get you cleaned up.” 

     Comply.

Was there ever a time he resisted? Yes, many times. Each one of those moments ended with someone he was close with being killed. Why wasn’t it ever him? It was his offense, why not him? He felt like he was suddenly drowning, falling further into the dark parts of his mind. .

“As you wish,” he said monotony, not even flinching when she took his arm. Her next words feel on deaf ears, as he merely followed. The fact that she wasn’t asking questions alarmed him, was she apart of the school?  No, no. She didn’t have the...what didn’t she have?

Yuri stood still, waiting for the next order. “Waverly,” he started. “Don’t. You were going somewhere, I’ll come back later.” Maybe. It was probably best for him to vanish. Yet, he found himself stuck in place. Not out of actual want in being there, but he was waiting for the order. He needed her to order him to leave. 

“Waverly, tell me to leave.”

He wasn’t looking up at her, which was a shame because she looked damn gorgeous. It took her a moment to realize that he was actually trying to hide himself from her, as if she wouldn’t notice him, as if she would just shrug and walk away, as if they hadn’t already proven to each other that they couldn’t do that.

She dropped her small purse defiantly to the ground and sank to her knees. “No, fuck you, you don’t tell me what-” She stopped herself. How long had he been out here? God, there was so much blood. She checked the carpet around him, it wasn’t his blood. That much sent a wave of relief running through her, now all that was left was questions, but she could ask those later. 

“Not your blood,” she whispered, eyes lifting up to him. Cautiously she reached out, trying to steady him. “You’re shaking.” She paused, “You’re cold, you’re covered in someone’s blood. You’re lucky I’m the first person to find you out here. We need to get out of the hallway, Yuri.” She stood holding out her hand to him, “You’re coming with me. Now.” Please. 

Every fiber in his body told him to run, actually they told him to kill her, that she now knew too much, saw too much, but he couldn’t do it. The fact that he brought himself her, for one reason or another, was proof that he couldn’t do it. He doubted he would ever bring himself to harm her. He’d rather take the bullet. 

His grip was harsh as he caught her hand. He hadn’t meant to, it was instinct. “Not the first,” he admitted with no context. She’ll figure it out, she’s smart and oddly calm. He let her go, shrinking into himself. 

“Is that what you want?” is that an order? He was used to orders. This concern for him, he didn’t understand it. He was a monster, a weapon. He will never be like Levi. 

     247, do you understand?

                  You are to comply.

Yuri stood, not taking her hand, as he faced her. “I’m sorry.” he apologized, not knowing if it was to her or the people who created him. 

LF: How are the situations similar?

Y: The fact that you are not apart of the school, is one similarity already. The fact that you are in contact with someone that is. If I were to list more it would make for a book.

Y: Too say in the least bit, I feel I would only scare her if she were to know the truth. She may be...different. Yet, this information is not something a person handles lightly.

LF: I feel like you're not going to like my answer, but yes, I was.

LF: I didn't know him in any other context. I just knew what he had done. But more than being afraid of him I hated him for who he was.

LF: It's taking me a long time to overcome that, but it's getting better. I used to be afraid if I did something wrong he would do something to me, now I'm scared in a different way, because I can't imagine a life without him there in it and I don't want anything to happen to him.

LF: But this is very different from your situation.

LF: I assume we're talking about the girl?

Y: That is fair. All things considering. I believe had I been in your shoes, and had not been raised how I was, I am sure I would feel just as you do.

Y: I thank you for your honest. It has helped, if you know it or not.

Y: The situation maybe different, yet there are similarities.