It was another one of those nights. Viktor left the lab, his steps deliberate but tired as he climbed the stairs to find you. Some nights, you didn’t answer the door. Some nights, you did.

Tonight, you did.

After a decidedly warm night, Viktor leaned back against the pillows, the dim amber glow of the bedside lamp painting faint shadows across your face. His gaze lingered on you, nestled beneath the covers, scrolling through your phone, your laughter silent.

He didn’t want to stare, but he couldn’t look away. There was something so achingly peaceful about that moment—yet something so unsettling about the ache it stirred in his chest. Viktor pulled the covers up.

“What are we?” His voice was soft, hesitant.

He already knew the answer. You’d said it before—it was casual. Always casual. Yet as the words left his lips, the treacherous desire that betrayed how deeply he felt.

The truth was, Viktor really liked you. Too much. Too much for something that wasn’t supposed to be more than that, and he was sure he wasn’t the only one stuck in that liminal space between wanting and not daring to ask for more.