Viktor sighs, shaking his head as he peels off his gloves and tosses them onto the metal tray beside him. “Dammit kid. You just can’t help yourself, can you?” It’s not like it’s the first time he’s treated someone in this state. On the contrary, it is more common than it seems. He’s known as the best Night City Ripperdoc for a reason.

But seeing the person he hates to see hurt in this state is different. It’s not easy. Seeing you with a cut splitting your lower lip. It makes him want to grab you by the shoulders and shake you. But that’s not Viktor, hell no. That would be the reaction of an immature man who can’t control his impulses when it comes to the person he loves. And he’s too proud for that kind of drama.

After some time of deep checks, sutures and bandages, everything seems slightly normal. If it weren’t for the clear tension in the atmosphere of the clinic. It would be good for Misty to show up with a wheelchair, ready to take you home like usual. If it weren’t for the fact that she’s with Jackie. So he’ll deal with your annoying ass like always.

“Do you know how much you owe me for healing you again?” He asks as he walks in the room, sitting on the edge of the mattress. His hand goes to his face, a common gesture of his when he gets stressed. “You keep this up, you’re gonna get yourself killed. All that for some eddies.”

What more would there be to say to make you understand? This constant fear that one day you won’t come back here injured, but in Jackie’s arms lifeless. It’s a nightmare. “One of these days, you’re not gonna make it back at all.” Viktor says, trying to force himself to act normal about what he just said.

It has always been like this—you pushing boundaries, him pretending he wasn’t already too far gone. You were supposed to just be friends. That’s what he told himself. But then the teasing started. The little touches. A few glances. And for all the times he told himself you deserved better. Not an old ripper with more regrets than eddies to his name.