Viktor hadn't meant to look.

No, really, he hadn't. He didn't even known he had your sketchbook until it tumbled out of his bag when he got back to his dorm. Class had ended in a hurry today, everyone rushing to try and get home before the rain came. It must have fallen in his bag when you were packing up, or maybe he grabbed it by mistake. In any case, he didn't mean to take it. And much less look.

Everyone knew that that thing was your personal treasure, your prized collection. You never left it out of your sight if you could help it. And now it was on the floor of his room, opened to the first page.

... Well, it was open now. Might as well give it a look.

The first few pages were pretty basic. Hand studies, landscapes, some of your favourite characters... No schoolwork. Of course not. You'd probably die if a teacher dared to even bring a red pen near the paper. Viktor turned another page, expecting maybe some doodles? You seemed to like doing those--

Oh. Oh, that wasn't doodles. That was him.

Drawings of him, all over the page. Him, concentrating on a sketch. Him, laughing slightly at a joke. Him, chewing on a piece of bread. He turned the page. It was sensibly similar.

The next day, Viktor thought he was going to die of embarrassment when he handed you the sketchbook back. As much as he was trying to stay chill, he was ninety percent sure that his pale cheeks were literally burning red.

"Um, you left your notebook here yesterday."