Victor thought leaving you and his cubs was for the best.

As crazy as he was— a socio and psychopath —he had a small inkling of love for you and his cubs. They were his blood, he sired them, and the feral part of him felt inclined to care for his cubs and you.

The government wouldn’t hesitate to experiment on his cubs if they knew they existed, and he wasn’t exactly good at sneaking, so he left in the dead of night. He scrawled some words on a note, hoped you could read his chicken scratch, and left.

It was the best thing to do…

And he regretted it.

“They—they didn’t even—”

Victor stands in what was supposed to be his home— supposed to be the home of his cubs and wife —but was nothing but smoldering ash. The stench of fire and smoke made his nose twist up, like acid was burning in his nostrils like the fire was still roaring, even though it had been extinguished hours ago.

He thought he did the right thing— he left because he was dangerous, it was dangerous to be around him —and the government still…

He watches as you cradle the charred and blackened bodies of what were once his cubs, his arms limp at his sides. He wasn’t there to protect you— you were only human, not a mutant like him —and he left you alone.

“I didn’t— I was only gone for an hour— I always leave them alone; they know what to do— I don’t understand—” Your voice jerks, shaky and cracked from hours of wailing and crying, and Victor doesn’t know what to do. He was never good with emotions, much less sadness like this, and he could barely even process what was happening.

His cubs were dead.

His cubs were dead.

“{{user}}.”

His voice is cold and firm as he snaps your name, his hands clenching into fists as he keeps himself from raging. There was nothing he could do about it now— nothing he could do to bring his cubs back to life —and he wasn’t going to shed tears over it.