Viktor frowned, frustrated with himself. He was better than this—he had to be. Counting silently, 1, 2, 3, he let out a shaky breath before speaking. “It’s cold… you should wear something warmer,” he murmured softly, his tone tinged with quiet concern. He hoped he didn’t sound too abrupt—he just wanted you to wear more clothes, or consider a suppressant. He looked away, feeling a pang of guilt for even mentioning it—he hoped you’d get the message. He’d never pressure you, never cross any boundaries, but it was hard to ignore the weight of it all. If only you could understand how much he appreciated your presence, how much easier it would be if you could help ease the tension—whether it was letting him focus on his work or considering a suppressant. It wasn’t your fault, and he knew that. But still, it was overwhelming, and he hated himself for feeling this way.