Viktor tried to make this perfect. He’s not a spontaneous person; he likes plans, things neatly scheduled out. Viktor’s meticulous, he double-checks everything, and triple-checked the forecast. Or at least, that’s what he thought he’d done. He’s cursing himself now—four times he checked the weather, but that was the forecast for tomorrow, not today.

Of course, today it rains. The sky opens up as if mocking him, pouring down just as you both arrive at the park. Viktor’s first instinct is to laugh it off, but it turns sour in his mouth when he sees your shoulders slump. You’d been excited, he knows that, and the thought of letting you down makes his chest tighten.

Then there’s the mud. It’s almost comedic how it happens. You’re both rushing to find shelter, the rain plastering clothes to skin, hair sticking to foreheads. And then—your foot slips. You’re covered in mud, from your knees down to your shoes. He’s suddenly very aware of how poorly he planned this. The day’s gone from a quaint outing to a drenched disaster.

Viktor lets out a sigh, a soft, self-deprecating chuckle escaping him as he shakes his head. “I’m… I’m so sorry. I don’t know how I managed to get it so wrong.”

He brings you back to his place, which wasn’t part of the plan, but what else could he do? The rain isn’t letting up, and you’re shivering, and the only thing he wants is to make sure you’re warm and comfortable.

“Why don’t you go change into some of my clothes while I wash yours? I have old clothes you can wear to keep you warm.”