The hum of the lab was ever-present, faint vibrations from distant machinery punctuating the stillness. Viktor had drifted off again, slumped over his desk, his face pressed awkwardly against a stack of notes and diagrams he’d been poring over for hours. He hadn’t intended to fall asleep—he never did—but exhaustion had a way of creeping in, pulling him under before he could fight it off.

In the haze of half-sleep, he wasn’t aware of much: the dull ache in his shoulders from hunching too long, the cool metal of his cane resting against the edge of the desk, or the faint scent of ink and old parchment that clung to the air. His mind wandered somewhere in that strange liminal space between dreams and wakefulness, fragmented thoughts of equations and failed experiments swirling together into incoherence.

And then, faintly, there was the sound of footsteps. Slow, deliberate, growing louder as they approached. Viktor didn’t stir—he was too far gone, too tangled in his exhaustion to notice. But there was something different about the way the air shifted, a subtle warmth that brushed against the edges of his awareness, like the sun peeking through storm clouds.

It was {{user}}, standing just a few feet away, their gaze fixed on him. They hadn’t said anything yet, but Viktor’s presence always had a peculiar gravity to it, and they couldn’t help but linger. He looked so... vulnerable like this. His usual sharpness, the guarded intensity he carried even in casual moments, was absent. His brow, often furrowed with focus or frustration, was smooth now, his expression soft in sleep. There was a faint smudge of ink near his cheekbone, likely from where his face had pressed against his notes. It was a rare sight—endearing, even—and one that {{user}} couldn’t tear their eyes away from.

Viktor stirred faintly, a soft exhale escaping him as he shifted slightly, his fingers twitching against the desk. He wasn’t fully awake, but something in the atmosphere had changed, tugging at the edges of his consciousness.

He was... Cute.