Viktor felt like he was moving against his own will, and lately, most things felt like that. The commune, the people around him calling him either a miracle worker or the Herald. It was all so new, but a part of him didn’t mind. A part of him liked it, and that was probably the most messed up thing.

But the need to walk out in search of something was already pulling him, and he wanted to know what it was.

With slow and deliberate steps, he walked into the very familiar street in which he grew, although he hadn’t been there in ages. He still remembered it well.

What he didn’t expect was to see the lights of that familiar flat he spent so much time in as a young boy to be on. But they were. Some music he didn’t pay much attention came from the inside, and he recognized something.

Or rather, two things.

The silhouette by the curtains, and the smell of blueberry muffins. So simple and yet… so nostalgic.

And against his better judgement, yet still feeling the pull, he knocked on the door.