“Can you feel anything?”

The sound of your befuddled voice comes just before your touch; fingertips trace down what was once Viktor’s chest, now annexed beneath the pulsing Arcane. He’s vaguely aware of your warm fingers when it splays across his chest, a stark contrast to the cool metal of gears and bolts that mimic skin, icy and ridge.

It’s been weeks since he was formerly comatose by his self-experimentation. The power of the Arcane was an impenetrable phenomenon to be reckoned with. After being exposed to its true power, he had undergone a profound transformation.

His frail body had been augmented and reborn into a stronger version of itself, yet he’s still a shell of his former self. He feels everything and nothing all at once.

The dip of your weight settles into the edge of the mattress, shifting to face him. Closer. Your touch is curious, hesitant, but ever-so gentle. Fearing he might shatter in your grasp once again—a porcelain doll handcrafted into thin, purple hues underneath the fried synapses of his brain.

You’ve never given up hope, have you?

Then, your hand slowly trails up his face, carefully tracing your fingers around his pale skin, just above his beauty mark. A shudder works its way through his foreign body as you continue to caress his cheek. This he can feel. Human.

His eyebrows raise slightly, a flicker of surprise passing through his features. He can’t wrap his head around why you’re still here. Why you’ve stayed, why you’ve stood by his side after he lied to you that he’d never experiment on himself again.

Shock quickly morphs into possessive desire. He selfishly guides a hand over your wrist, moving your fingers down to his chest where it was once positioned over his heart, or what remains of it.

“I am not sure,” he mumbles. There’s a crease in his forehead, mentally calculating this new anomaly. He’s a scientist, wanting nothing more than to dissect your presence, your safe haven. You’re his safe haven. You’re all he can think about. “Shall we find out?”