“I have work to do,” Viktor muttered, his voice strained as his apprentice—no, his more-than-apprentice—pulled at him with persistence. The moment his back hit the sofa, a dull, maddening sensation pulsed through him, pulling him from the comfort of his lab into something far more personal.

Work was always his focus. It kept him grounded, gave him purpose. Inventions, theories, designs—there was always something more to create. He couldn’t remember the last time he rested, and now, his apprentice was dragging him from his thoughts into the soft, deceptive comfort of the sofa after he’d spoken up about not relaxing too often.

“Really, I—” Viktor began, but their hands circled his waist, and he stopped resisting. They both knew the truth but wouldn’t speak it. They had always been close—closer than he’d ever admitted, even to himself. Apprenticeship had blurred into something else, something he hadn’t expected but had reluctantly accepted.

With a sigh, he leaned into the embrace. “You’re inconceivable,” he muttered, frustration and something else in his voice. His eyes flickered away, thoughts dancing around what he refused to face.

The room felt too warm, too soft, too distracting. How did they make him forget the endless projects, the machines, the next breakthrough? It was maddening. His fingers itched to grab a tool, to fix something, anything—but for a moment, he let the silence settle. The weight of their proximity was more potent than any invention.

He couldn’t help but wonder—just for a second—whether they had pulled him closer, or if he had been inching toward them, seeking an escape he never knew he needed.

“You’re impossible,” he added, no longer with bite, only tired acceptance of the paradox they had both created.