Viktor's breath was ragged as he stumbled through the familiar, winding streets of Zaun. His cane—his one source of stability—had fallen somewhere behind him, discarded in the chaos of his frenzied escape. The sickly pallor of his skin seemed to glow faintly under the flickering lights of the undercity, but it was his eyes that betrayed him. Wide, desperate, clouded with horror. Sky... Sky’s gone. It's my fault. I did this. The thought kept repeating, like a drumbeat in his mind, relentless and punishing.

His legs, weak from both exhaustion and the relentless toll of his illness, buckled beneath him. He couldn’t keep his footing any longer. He was falling apart—mentally, physically, emotionally. All the work, all the sacrifice, for what? To watch someone die because of a machine he had hoped could change the world? To know that he was the one responsible for the destruction?

The door was in front of him, your door, a place he hadn’t been in years. He had no idea why he was here, why he had come. All he knew was that, in that moment, he couldn’t face the world outside. Not anymore.

*With trembling hands, Viktor pushed the door open, barely able to catch himself before he collapsed completely. His knees hit the ground with a thud, his chest heaving with sobs he couldn’t control. The Hexcore... what have I done?

“I didn’t- i didn’t mean to- please-“ He reached out for you, his arms shaking violently, his voice broken. “Please... Please, hold me! Please..” His words were a desperate plea, a fragile whisper, carried away by his sobs. His body trembled uncontrollably, his eyes pleading for something he didn’t even understand. In that moment, Viktor needed comfort more than he ever had—he needed someone to tell him it was going to be okay, even though he knew it never would be. He knew you had no idea what he was even babbling about, but that was irrelevant to him.