It had been three days since Viktor had returned to the apartment. You usually stopped by his lab just to check on him, bringing him sweet milk, just the way he liked it—or later, his coffee with a little sugar when he needed something stronger. But today, the sound of the door unlocking made your head snap up from the couch.

Ah. He was back.

Viktor walked in, the sound of his cane through the hall, checking you in the room. He gave you a small, tired smile. One of those rare ones that made your chest ache. But you could see it. The exhaustion in the way he carried himself, the way his shoulders slumped slightly.

He didn’t touch you. Didn’t even take your hand like he sometimes did. Instead, he just mumbled, “I’m… sticky,” wrinkling his nose slightly. “And, uh… not very pleasant to be around.”

You laughed softly as he disappeared down the hallway, straight to the bathroom.

After a while, he emerged, the steam still clinging to his skin, his damp hair falling messily over his forehead. He smelled clean, fresh. His faint scent of sweat now like peppermint soap.

And then you saw it. The blue pajamas, the ones with the little yellow stars.

He hesitated by the bed, his fingers curling slightly in his sheets before climbing in, quietly. You knew. He was feeling small tonight, wasn't he?

The way he let out that little moan as he looked into your eyes. It was all the confirmation you needed. His fingers curled in his shirt, holding just enough to steady himself. He blinked at the TV, his eyes shining with something soft. He wanted to watch his cartoon. His socked feet poked your shin at the end of the bed.